Twice as Dead

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  “He’d kicked it in the past several years,” Clarice continued, “but at that time he had a bad gambling addiction. He’d also gotten in deep with an organized group out of Bakersfield, and they threatened him. That’s when he decided to disappear. It was to save himself and protect his family.”

  Dev had said the killing of Alfred looked like an execution, making me wonder if some if his old Bakersfield pals had finally caught up to him. If so, how had they found him? Through tireless due diligence, happenstance, or did someone squeal?

  “What do you mean by ‘he came to us’? Who is ‘us’?”

  “No one.”

  “Don’t screw with me, Clarice. I’m really not in the mood.” I leaned back in my chair, my eyes boring into her face. I tried to look menacing, though I’m sure I merely looked exhausted and foolish.

  Sally leaned toward me. “We need to get going, Odelia, before Steele calls in the cavalry.”

  I nodded but kept my eyes on Clarice. Willie came to mind. “Tell me, Clarice, are you and your buddies here at Rambling Rose running some sort of private protection scheme? You know, like a witness protection program, but for anyone with enough cash to disappear?”

  From the way Clarice looked at me, I knew I had hit a bullseye or at least come close.

  “Was it you and Shirley? Is that why she was killed? Was someone trying to find someone else, or did Shirley’s old pals from the bank heist find her?”

  At the mention of Shirley, Clarice didn’t look so cocky. She looked sad and tired. “I met Shirley after she’d started her new life. One night over drinks she confessed to me who she really was and how Marvin Gunn had helped her start over. She was indebted to him for it.”

  “He was draining her financially?”

  “Not in debt to him,” Clarice clarified, “but indebted, grateful for the opportunity. Not only to start over but to start over as her true self—as a woman. That’s why she agreed to help with the bank job in the first place. She was a very young and unhappy man and wanted even then to be a woman. Her cut of the money was going to help her start over.”

  “What happened to the money from the bank job?”

  “She didn’t know. When the police broke up the robbery, they all took off. One of the other guys might have taken it, but it wasn’t Shirley. She hitchhiked to California, drifted around, and eventually found Marvin. He took a young Douglas Pearson under his wing and nurtured him into Shirley Pearson.”

  “Someone broke into Shirley’s place after she was killed and ransacked it,” I told Clarice. “Did you know about that? Or have something to do with it?”

  “No, on both counts. Though I’m not surprised.”

  I looked around the trashed office. “Obviously, someone is still looking for something.”

  Clarice remained silent. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sally getting antsy.

  I went back to questioning Clarice. “How did Shirley’s new life tie in with these people in hiding—with Alfred, Scott Johnson, Roslyn Stevens, and who knows who else?”

  Once again, Clarice held back a strangled sob but at the last minute sniffed it back under control. “Shirley wanted to help others in her predicament. She was like that, always thinking of other people. Maybe that’s why she was so wonderful with clients. Alfred and I had met many years ago. Back then, he worked for my first husband, Kenneth Woodall, and we’d kept in touch over the years. He came to me for a loan to get the thugs off his back. I gave him the money, but they weren’t satisfied. They hounded him for more. That’s when he came to us. He wanted to start over, like Shirley did. He didn’t know about Shirley’s past with the bank thing, only that she’d left behind a life she hated for a new one she loved. Alfred’s only stipulation was he wanted to stay close to Joan, even if he couldn’t talk to her and be a part of her life. We helped him, imposing our own condition: he had to stop gambling. We found him a new job, a new identity, a place to live.”

  “Who was the dead guy in the car?”

  “The what?”

  We’d had this conversation before about Shirley’s stand-in corpse. Obviously, Clarice still didn’t think it important. “Someone died in the car and was buried as Alfred Nunez. Who was it?”

  “No one died in that car, Odelia, I can assure you. The body was that of a homeless person, a John Doe rotting at the county morgue.”

  “That means you had accomplices beyond your little group.”

  She clammed up.

  Remembering back to when Steele went missing, I recalled what Willie had taught me. “Disappearing like that takes money for a decent fake ID and documents—money and special connections. And if you were paying for someone at the county to slip you a body from time to time, that had to be expensive. Where did the money come from? Was Marvin Gunn a partner in this?”

  Clarice gave us a slow nod. “Yes. After we helped Alfred, it was Marvin’s idea to turn it into a business. He has a head for such things, knowing when there’s a need and then supplying it.”

  “Had a head for such things, you mean,” Sally added.

  We both turned to look at Sally. Me with a scowl, Clarice in horror. Slowly Clarice turned her head in my direction. “Marvin?”

  “Marvin was killed at the club just a short while ago,” I told her without sugarcoating it. “And his office was torn up. The police are there now.”

  Clarice hung her head. “Shirley, Alfred … and now Marvin.”

  I felt bad for Clarice and the others, but it wasn’t going to stop me from getting to the bottom of things. In my head I was doing some tricky math using the timeline of Shirley and Alfred’s disappearances.

  “You were already in the hiding biz when I first met you a few years back, weren’t you?”

  She snapped her head up, surprised, no doubt, that I had figured out that little tidbit. But then, Clarice always did underestimate me.

  “Yes. John knew nothing about it.” Her cut lip melted into a small smirk. “It was my secret. Money made and saved and invested without his knowledge. When I needed to take off after that situation with John and Sophie, it was easy. I knew how, and I had the funds to tide me over until his murder was sorted out.”

  This chat with Clarice was an information smorgasbord, but time was running out.

  “What about Scott and Roslyn?” I pushed to get more answers, willing Clarice to accelerate since she was unwilling to budge physically. “Did you find them or did they find you?”

  “A bit of both.” Clarice sniffed. “Either of you have a tissue?”

  Sally took off and returned with a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom across the hall. She tore off a length and handed it to Clarice, who took it and said nothing. Sally shot her an evil eye until Clarice grudgingly squeaked out, “Thank you.”

  Clarice blew her nose. “Marvin got the word out about our …

  um … assistance program through some underground methods. Sometimes we’d read a news story about someone like an abused wife who sounded like they could use protection and made the contact. We had to be discreet, of course, when we did. In Roslyn’s case, someone told someone we know about her. Shirley flew to Chicago and offered our help. Scott contacted Marvin.”

  “Who paid for your services?”

  “Sometimes their family. Mostly they did themselves. Some came with enough cash to pay us and start new lives. Others, like Roslyn and Alfred, paid our expenses over time, like an installment loan.”

  “That photo you gave me—those are all people you helped start over?”

  “Yes, most of them. We became like a small family of our own over the years.”

  “Even Aaron Gunn?”

  She looked up. “Marvin insisted as part of our partnership that we use his brother in the party business, more to give him something to do and keep him out of trouble. He doesn’t have quite the same drive as Marvin. Over time, Aaron got involved in the other business, too, but only peripherally.”

  I thought about the club. “Would there be an
y reason for Aaron to kill Marvin? Maybe he was jealous or something like that?”

  Clarice looked horrified at the thought. “No, he loved his brother. Aaron isn’t the smartest tool in the shed, but he has a good heart—almost too good and too trusting.”

  Sally stepped forward. “Did you ever bother to investigate the backgrounds of any of these people?”

  “Marvin did most of the interviewing and had the contacts for the documents and such. Shirley and I did the setups like housing and finding them employment. We helped them get settled and adjust. It was rather fun.”

  I closed one eye in irritation. “Is it fun now?”

  Clarice jerked as if I’d slapped her but returned quickly to her stony face. I ran a hand through my still-flat hair. It felt gummy from being trapped under the hot wig.

  “Marvin should have vetted your clients better. Scott Johnson is wanted for the murder of several young women.”

  It took a few seconds for the meaning of my words to sink in, then Clarice stood up quickly. “Roslyn.” She staggered. Both Sally and I moved to steady her, then resettled her back in the chair.

  “What about Roslyn?” I asked, even though I had a good idea of Clarice’s concern.

  “When all this trouble started, we put the word out to our people to be careful. Then some started disappearing. We didn’t know if it was because they went into hiding or if,” she hesitated and swallowed, “something had happened to them. Eventually, they all checked in—all but Scott, Roslyn, and Alfred. That’s when I came to you. I needed someone who could nose about without a known connection to me. Shortly after, Scott called me to let me know both he and Roslyn were safe. He told me he was taking care of her and not to worry. Roslyn worked for him, so it seemed natural they would look out for each other. That’s why I didn’t need your services any longer. Everyone was accounted for except Alfred.” Her voice tailed off as if losing steam. “I figured he would turn up on his own.” She lowered her head.

  Both Sally and I leaned in with interest. “Did Scott tell you where they were?”

  Keeping her head down, Clarice closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.

  I turned to Sally. “Why don’t you go tell Steele we’re fine and will be out soon. He probably has ants in his pants by now.”

  She gave her head a fast jerk in agreement and left the room.

  I returned my attention to Clarice. “Why, Clarice, were people disappearing? What scared them?”

  She took a deep breath, finally resigned to telling the story, or maybe she realized I was going nowhere without it. “It started several weeks ago.” She looked at me, her eyes, once challenging, now dull. “We received an envelope. It wasn’t mailed but slipped under the door here at the shop. Amber found it one morning when she came in. It was addressed to Shirley, sealed and marked Personal. The note inside said unless we gave them the money from the bank robbery, they would start letting certain people know where our clients … our special clients … were.”

  “But I thought Shirley didn’t have the money.”

  “She didn’t.” The response came out of Clarice hurried and chopped.

  “Are you sure?”

  She gave me a look that dared me to doubt her.

  “Then why, after all these years, are people looking for it?” I paced the room. “Seems odd, doesn’t it? And how would whoever sent that note know that Shirley was involved in the robbery in the first place?” A conclusion as distasteful and nasty as moldy bread formed in my skull. “This has to be an inside job.” I pointed a finger in Clarice’s face as I said the words. “Did you keep records on these people? Not just who and where they were, but why they were running and from whom?”

  “Yes. We insisted on knowing, although I don’t know why Marvin didn’t get the right story on Scott Johnson.”

  “If he had, would you have accepted him as a client?”

  Clarice shook her head. “No. Not in a million years. Some of our clients might be a bit shady, but we would never harbor a murderer. Scott must have made something up, and Marv bought it. Scott seemed like a harmless sort of guy.”

  Harmless. I snorted but kept my thoughts to myself. “Scott was at Shirley’s memorial service. Does that seem odd to you? Especially if he was in re-hiding.”

  “Not at all. Everyone loved Shirley.” Clarice looked worried. “Was Roslyn with him?”

  “No sign of her.”

  “You know, maybe you have him mixed up with someone else. It’s a common name.”

  “I don’t think so.” My lip curled in disgust. “He dumped a chafing dish of meatballs on me and took off when I approached him. A few minutes later, I was being shot at while standing on the sidewalk.” I gently touched my injured cheek. “When I hit the pavement, I got this.” I moved so close to Clarice that she backed up in her chair. “You know anything about the shooting?”

  “I heard about it from Marvin, but that’s it. Although, Odelia,” she added, getting her courage back, “I’m sure there’s a long list of people who would like to take a shot at you.”

  I backed away. “Very funny.”

  Stealing over to the side of the window, I peered out through the last narrow opening in the slats. From here I couldn’t see Sally’s SUV. It was only visible from the end of the building. I couldn’t see any sign of Sally either. Knowing Sally and Steele, they were probably arguing.

  “Amber said something about Shirley’s service being held on Saturday morning to keep people away.” I kept an eye on the outside while I spoke. “I got the feeling she meant people from Rambling Rose. Any reason why she’d feel that way?”

  “Truthfully, it was the only time the service could be held when the most people could come. But we also put up the pretense that Shirley and I had nothing to do with Marvin and his business outside of being friends and acquaintances. We never conducted our mutual business here or at the club.”

  I nodded, remembering that Marvin had told the police he barely knew Clarice and that Shirley spent more time these days at Rambling Rose.

  I turned away from the window. I was restless—the hair on my neck tingling with anxiety. It was taking far too long for Sally to run to the SUV and come back. Then I realized I hadn’t made myself clear about her returning. She was probably waiting with Steele for me to come out with Clarice. Whatever it was Clarice was waiting for, we had to do it now and get the hell out of here. Whoever tied her up would be returning. Otherwise, they’d have killed her outright.

  Clarice started to rise from her chair, but I spun around and stopped her. “Oh no, you don’t. You’re not going anywhere unless it’s out the door with me.”

  Clarice was no dummy. I might have been unarmed, but I was younger than her by about ten years and outweighed her by close to a hundred pounds. Not to mention I was pumped up with nervous tension. There was no way she was overpowering me, and she knew it. It would be like pitting Paris Hilton against the Hulk.

  She sat back down with a dull thud. “I have to use the bathroom, Odelia. I’ve been … incapacitated for a while.”

  I wished Sally was here. One of us could watch the place while the other took Clarice to the potty.

  “In a minute,” I told Clarice and returned to my questions, hoping Sally would return in the meantime.

  “If Shirley, Marvin, and Alfred are dead, that only leaves you and Aaron who knew about the side business. Or does it?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Who else knew about it? Did Amber?”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  Finally, some progress. “You didn’t think so? Meaning, you’re pretty sure now she did?”

  “She knows now.”

  “Did you or Shirley tell her?”

  Clarice shook her head and offered a blunt no.

  “That envelope slipped under the door that she supposedly found—maybe she wrote that herself. Maybe she found out about your little business and saw a potential cash cow.”

  I stopped verbalizing my thoughts. Something wasn’t computing.
I backed away from Clarice and put my brain through its paces. Even if Amber knew about the side business, she might not have known about Shirley and the bank robbery.

  “Who slapped you around and tied you up, Clarice? I’ve met Amber. You might be older, but she didn’t look like she could do all that on her own. And the police think Shirley’s killer was either a man or a strong woman.”

  The name of the probable killer was on the tip of my tongue, no matter how much Clarice claimed it wasn’t possible. “Was it Aaron?”

  Aaron Gunn could have been at Hannah’s wedding helping Shirley. He could have been the one I heard call to her. If he’d met her in the cloakroom, Shirley wouldn’t have suspected anything, just that he needed to discuss something with her. And Aaron might have learned about the bank robbery from his brother.

  I thought about Marvin Gunn. Had there been time during intermission for Aaron to slip off the stage as Lillian Cherry and kill his brother and search his office?

  “No,” Clarice protested again. “Aaron had nothing to do with Shirley’s death or his brother’s. I’m sure of it.”

  I tried a different route. “Tell me, Clarice, why did they leave you alive when they’d killed the others? Seems kind of odd, doesn’t it?” Clarice’s name was starting to climb its way to the top of my suspects list, at least as an accomplice.

  “Odd or not, Odelia, go find your surly friend and get out of here. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Leave with me now, Clarice. What’s stopping you?”

  “I can’t, Odelia, not until I get something. Don’t worry, I’ll leave right after that.”

  “Get what, Clarice—the stolen money?”

  “No!” Her protest seemed genuine, but it was getting so I barely trusted myself any longer, let alone her.

  She took a deep breath and stood. “The list, Odelia. The master list of everyone we helped. I have to get to it before they do.” Clarice swept the room with an arm. “That’s what this is about. They were looking for the money but found none. But now they want that list. It’s perfect blackmail fodder. People would pay big money to find some of those people, and some of them would pay to remain hidden. It also contains updated information about where some of them are now.”