by Lily Gardner
Now Dan’s room had the same pale yellow wallpaper as the hallway. The queen-sized bed stood unmade, a blue flower print comforter nearly off the bed, a spy novel twisted in the sheets. Two more novels sat atop a small desk in the corner of the room. Other than his scent this was a completely anonymous room. Even his books were something you’d pick up in an airport kiosk.
What would she do if he caught her snooping through his stuff?
Lennox swallowed that thought and opened the drawers of a mission style dresser. A neat stack of boxers, undershirts, black socks balled up. Underneath the socks lay a composition book with a black and white speckled cover. She opened the book. The first page contained numbers jotted in pencil and arrows pointing to other numbers. The next page had more numbers. She photographed both pages. The rest of the book was blank.
In the closet Dan’s designer suit peeked beneath a dry cleaner’s bag. More suits, trousers, and shirts in dry cleaning bags from a Fashion Cleaners in Chicago. Several shirts hung on the clothes rod with their high-end price tags dangling from the sleeves. What looked like an expensive pair of loafers, nice, soft slip-ons she’d swear were handmade, a couple pairs of athletic shoes and a pair of hiking boots stood on the closet floor. All together a fortune’s worth of clothes.
Lennox checked under the mattress. Nothing. Among the spent tissues in the wastepaper basket Lennox found four receipts from a Portland department store and an outdoor store on a Visa card ending in the numbers 4637. Lennox smoothed them flat and took pictures of them. A boarding pass from Chicago on Alaska Airlines dated last weekend and a receipt from Chase Bank for forty-five hundred seventy dollars charged on a MasterCard, numbers ending in 2331. Evidently Dan had flown back to Chicago two days after his mother was indicted and paid down a whopper of a bill. Lennox made a note to ask Ham about it, then took pictures. Fluffed the trash back to its original state.
Lennox opened the remaining doors off the hallway. On the other side of the hall, Delia’s office. Tommy and his gang had had their way with it. The desk drawers had been emptied, her computer impounded. They left the monitor, a dainty black flat screen, on her desk. Lennox made a note to ask Delia whether she kept a journal or a calendar. And what she kept on her computer.
Finally Lennox opened the door to the master bedroom. You could fit Lennox’s entire house inside the room and still have space left over. Everything in the room was off-white: the walls, the upholstery, the furniture, the carpet. The only color came from enormous paintings, five of them all together, that looked to Lennox like giant blocks of color. Red, orange, yellow, blue, and green. In a gallery they might have seemed like so what, but here in this giant white room they worked.
The carpet was vacuumed in neat lines. Lennox went to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Bill’s black socks rolled in balls in the top drawer next to a plastic change tray. Four dollars’ worth of quarters, an empty money clip, a Blazers ticket from late November. According to discovery this was the drawer where he had kept his inhaler. The other drawers were filled with clothes and nothing else.
Lennox moved to the walk-in closet. Delia’s perfume floated out into the room. On the hangers and tossed on the shelves were a jumble of clothes as if every night she wadded up her clothing and threw it at her closet. Dresses and jackets clung for their lives to their hangers. The only things that were properly buttoned and hung were under dry cleaning bags.
Just as Delia had said, a long narrow door ran alongside a bank of shelves. There was no knob or pull on the door; you simply pushed in and it released. It wasn’t exactly a secret cupboard, but it would do. How could anyone outside the family have ever known of its existence? Lennox stood inside Delia’s closet, breathing her scent, playing with the door catch. The longer she thought about it the more it seemed that only the family could have pulled off Bill’s murder.
The king-sized bed stood neatly made up.
Bill had fallen by the foot of the bed and died.
He’d had quite a night of it. Early on he had run into Alice Stapely. According to Sarge, just at the sight of Alice he had opened his safe and helped her to the tune of ten thousand bucks. Was that when he started drinking hard? The autopsy pegged his alcohol level at .115. Drinking hard would explain why he played kiss-face with his son’s girlfriend. He drank and drank until his blood alcohol was right up there on tilt. Did all the drinking cause him to be short of breath? It could’ve happened that when he used his inhaler, the insulin made him dizzy. Then he took another pull of the inhaler, and this one stopped his heart. He fell to the foot of the bed.
The imprint of his body had been erased by the vacuum tracks, long straight rows like a freshly cut lawn. Bill. A jolly, generous man, a man who appeared to have been guilty of bad things, a man whose weaknesses contributed to his death. His family was already anticipating the wealth he had created. Did anyone miss him?
Bill and Delia’s bathroom was predictable, huge and luxurious. His and hers vessel sinks made from burnished metal, a glass shower, quartz counters, a quartz Jacuzzi, yada yada.
Lennox opened the top drawer beneath Delia’s sink. A dozen lipsticks rolled about amongst the eyeliner pencils, mascara tubes and emery boards. The lipstick smudge on Bill’s inhaler the police lab identified as Dior’s Brown Sugar. There were two other tubes of the same color. One of them was nearly gone. Lennox noted the other colors. She closed the drawer and went downstairs.
A plate, fork and a glass residing in the sink, gas and insurance bills lying on the kitchen counter. The oil painting of the family that hung over the breakfront had been taken down. Lennox walked down the hall to Bill’s office. The photograph of Bill and Dan she’d noticed at the funeral was gone. It seemed odd for a grieving widow to remove all trace of her mate.
Bill’s office was stripped of computer and calendar. All the plaques, the team photographs, the memorabilia were gone. She went through every drawer in his desk, then pulled the drawers out and looked underneath them, looked into the cavities they made. What was left of Bill’s office was an assortment of supplies you could find in any office supply store. She made another note to ask Sarge what if any of Bill’s papers were in the evidence locker. Beneath a floor mat by the desk was Bill’s floor safe. The door looked about one foot square. She lifted the panel and tried the door. It was locked, of course. She needed to find out from Delia what Bill kept in the safe.
Lennox peeled off her gloves and stuffed them in the back pocket of her jeans and looked at her watch. Eleven forty-five. She’d been in the house three hours.
Lennox was locking the front door when a dark blue Cadillac Escalade SUV drove up followed by white Chevy pickup. Dan Pike parked the Escalade and got out, his look both puzzled and happy. It was probably what she looked like, too, only substitute embarrassed for puzzled.
“Hey there,” he said.
“Your mother gave me permission to take a look at the house,” she said. Would he realize she’d been in his room? That she’d been through his trash?
Dan’s attention strayed to the Chevy. He motioned to the driver. The driver’s door opened and out stepped John Resnick. Another man stepped down from the passenger side. Emory Zimm, dark with a long torso and short legs. The felonious parking attendants from the party. At no time were they in the house the night of the party or any other night— Lennox had checked.
“Give me a sec,” Dan said. He opened the door of the Escalade and leaned in. The garage door on the far right levered upwards. Dan motioned to the two guys and they started loading lumber from the garage into their truck.
“Brazilian Cherry,” Dan said. “It’s too valuable to keep on the site. I heard Mom hired you. That’s cool.”
“Do these guys work for you?”
“The Altar Boys?” Dan said. “They’re Mac’s guys.” Dan shrugged. “They’re hard workers.”
She watched the two men load the pickup. Resnick seemed determined to avoid eye contact.
“Look, off the subject, but you w
ant to go out for dinner tonight?” Dan said.
Her twelve-year-old self was shouting yes, yes, yes! Her thirty-eight-year-old self was clucking big time. What the hell, hadn’t she learned anything?
She wanted to ask for a rain check. Would that sound too eager? Face it: she was no good with “no.” But she made herself answer in the negative. “I can’t,” she said. “Not while I’m working for your mother.”
Chapter 10
Start with the hapless caterer, Alice Stapely. It must have been the very devil trying to explain to the cops why she was carrying ten thousand cash in her backpack the night of Bill’s murder. How would Tommy have played it back at the police station? He would have been flirty, used plenty of eye contact, nodded in that sympathetic way of his.
Tommy had probably gained every secret Alice possessed in short of an hour. Four hours of interview? He had her entire genome sequence. But if Tommy could persuade Alice to confess to an affair with Bill Pike, then surely Lennox could do the same.
Her background check showed Alice Stapely led a remarkably unremarkable life. She lived with her boyfriend, Gabe Makem, the redheaded waiter from the party. She worked two jobs: bartending four nights a week at the Blue Note and catering for Mina’s Parties two nights. She was a steady worker, rare for people who clock in at suppertime and don’t get home until three or four in the morning. Both bosses claimed she was a quiet girl and the customers liked her. During the day, Alice took business courses at the community college. Clean driving record, an okay credit score.
At first look her early life seemed as uneventful as her current life, excepting one little factoid. She was expelled from Saint Mary’s her freshman year and, according to Sarge, that would’ve been the year she claimed having a sexual relationship with Bill Pike. How had she met Bill in the first place? The one connection, and it was a beaut, was Bill’s cousin and business partner, Father McMahon. He happened to be Saint Mary’s pastor. But when she called Saint Mary’s the staff made it clear as clear Lennox wasn’t going to get any details of Alice’s expulsion without a court order.
And setting up an interview with Alice proved nearly as hard. Alice told Lennox no way was she going to cooperate in the investigation if it meant it would help the Pike family. Lennox pressed her case. Alice hung up.
Best chance for finding an unwilling witness at home? Wake them up. Lennox figured Alice for a late riser. She worked nights for one thing, and her classes were all scheduled in the afternoon.
So December 7th at nine in the a.m. Lennox ducked in the lobby door of the Cornerstone Apartments behind a dog-walker, rode the mirrored elevator up five floors to Alice’s apartment, walked down the carpeted hallway. The place smelled like the inside of a new car. Lennox would’ve guessed something older and funkier for Alice and her boyfriend. The carpet muffled the sound of the all-Spanish station behind an apartment door. Farther down the hall, someone practiced scales on the piano. There was no sound coming from Apartment 509, the abode of Alice Stapely and Gabe Makem.
After four minutes of persistent knocking, Lennox heard a woman’s voice say, “Give me a sec, babe.”
Alice cracked the door the width of the security chain, revealing a bleary eye, a flash of bare leg, a black tee shirt.
“Oh,” she said the way you do when you’re faced with a total stranger.
Lennox thrust a to-go cup up to the space allowed by the security chain. “I figured you for a mocha triple espresso,” she said. “Was I close?”
“Who are you?” Alice said.
“A friend. Leastways I could be if you give me half a chance.”
The bleary eye narrowed suspiciously. “You’re that detective working for Bill’s wife.”
“I heard you got a raw deal. Maybe I can help.”
Alice closed the door on Lennox’s face.
“I used to be a cop,” Lennox said through the door.
A brown-haired woman in a raincoat stepped out of the apartment next door.
Lennox changed strategy, raised her voice. “I’m not going away.”
The brown-haired woman locked her door, shot Lennox a puzzled look before she headed towards the elevator.
“I’ve got a good idea why Bill Pike gave you the ten thousand dollars.” Lennox’s voice near echoed down the long hallway. Apparently that did the trick. The chain slipped off and Alice opened the door.
Quiet girl, steady worker, the only extraordinary thing about Alice was her looks. She was tall, the same height as Priscilla. Bill Pike seemed to have a thing for tall, leggy brunettes, difference being while Priscilla was about four inches wide, the only word for Alice was voluptuous.
“You trying to get me evicted?” she said.
Her full breasts perched high in the Tex Mundi tee shirt she was wearing. Her thighs were curvy. Her hair a dark mass of curls falling past her shoulders.
“We need to talk,” Lennox said.
“Just what I need,” Alice muttered. “Another person sticking their nose up my life.” She left the door half opened.
Lennox followed her into a studio apartment. Large uncurtained windows dominated two walls of the room. One direction took in a half-finished glass high-rise, the other direction overlooked a transient hotel. A large drafting table covered with sketches and two ladder-back chairs furnished the room. Lennox glimpsed an unmade bed behind a paisley curtain. A stack of pizza boxes balanced over one of the burners on the stove.
Alice pulled a pair of jeans from the chair back, wiggled into them. “Gabe went to the market. He’ll be home any minute,” she said. “If we’re not out of here before he gets back, say you’re my friend from school.” She yanked a black sweater out of the closet and pulled it over her head. “Tell him statistics class.” She pulled on socks and black work boots.
“Doesn’t Gabe know about Bill Pike?” Lennox said.
“He does now.” She grabbed a wool jacket. “Just the same, I don’t need to remind him. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
Taking the stairs down five flights, not bothering to brush her hair, this whole business with Bill Pike must not have sat well with her boyfriend.
“Where are we going?” Lennox said.
“You want to be my friend?” Alice said. “Take me to breakfast.”
Lennox’s car was parked around the corner. Alice slumped low until they cleared the neighborhood.
“Where do you want to go?” Lennox said.
“Surprise me,” Alice mumbled.
“Cup and Saucer?”
Alice straightened in her seat. “Yeah, fine,” she said.
A delivery truck sprayed water across Lennox’s windshield. She asked, “How did you know Bill?”
Alice clamped her arms across her chest, stuck out her chin. “I already told the cops, Bill gave me that money straight up.”
The light greened and Lennox turned left off of Alder onto Fourth Avenue. “I understand you had a relationship with Bill when you were young,” Lennox said.
“Relationship!” Alice snorted. “That’s what you people call it when a middle-aged guy seduces a fourteen-year-old girl? Tell Fergusen he can go relationship himself.”
Nice Mr. Pike was relationshipping a fourteen-year-old and what really uncorked Lennox was the mystery person hired to make it go away. What did that say about Lennox? She halted her arm across Alice’s midsection. “Who is Fergusen?”
“He’s the Pikes’ lawyer.” Alice’s eyes narrowed. “How come you don’t know that?”
“I work for Delia Pike’s defense team,” Lennox said. “Bowersox, Kline and Hansen.”
Alice’s mouth stretched into a knowing grin. “Then Bill’s old lady has a different lawyer threatening me.”
“Different?” Lennox said. Then stomped on the brake microseconds before rear-ending the car in front of them. The light turned yellow.
Alice thrust her hand into an enormous messenger bag purse.
“See?” Alice waved Chuck Fergusen’s business card under Lennox’s nos
e. Fergusen’s firm, Delancy and Firth, was known for being conniving, slimy bastards. It appeared that Lady Pike was swimming with the sharks. Was she simply protecting her financial interests, or was it bigger than that?
You’ll be working for the defense, Tommy had said. At the time, Lennox had been feeling like the champion of the innocent, but how could Delia possibly think that Alice walked into her house for the first time and somehow between warming up the canapés and pouring champagne she went into Bill’s office, cracked his safe and removed ten thousand dollars? And what about Bill? Nice Mr. Pike? It was one thing to have an affair. Another thing to rape a kid.
Lennox Cooper, champion of the innocent.
Lennox crossed the Fremont Bridge to the east side, past Emanuel Hospital, past barbecue shacks and old houses broken into apartments, bicycles chained to their porch railings. Alice stuck out her chin. “He was my coach. Back then I thought I loved him. He made me feel special.” She blushed. “God, did I just say special? Okay, so I’m an idiot.”
If Lennox had to put money on it, she’d bet Alice was on the level. They reached Killingsworth and Lennox sighted a guy pulling out of a two-hour parking space a half block from the Cup and Saucer, a Christmas miracle in this part of town. Alice twisted in her seat to unhook her seat belt.
“Grab the umbrella,” Lennox said. “You can tell me what happened over breakfast.”
By the time their eggs benedict came, Lennox learned that Alice never considered reconnecting with Bill Pike, not until she saw the Pike Christmas party on Mina’s catering roster for December.
“When I finally saw him he wouldn’t look me in the eye.” She crushed the napkin in her fist. “I mean, he had to have looked at me, recognized me, right? Am I that pathetic?”