by Steph Cha
She was making a phone call now, and I called Rubina and got a busy signal. I started my car and drove it into the cul-de-sac between Sixth and the library, where I could wait for Lusig to come out. Her car nosed out of the lot, and I followed it down Hope, keeping a safe distance.
Rubina called almost as soon as I’d started moving.
“Looks like you heard from her,” I said.
“Yes. Did you see her?”
“I see her right now. She just left the parking lot.”
“Do you have anything to report?”
“She was wearing a suit,” I said. “She changed when she got back to her car.”
“A suit?” she asked with genuine puzzlement.
“Any idea as to what she might have dressed up for? I’m guessing she wasn’t going on a job interview.”
“I haven’t the slightest clue.”
“What did she say to you when she called?”
“She said she would be at the doctor’s in ten minutes. I told her I was on my way home, and that she could forget about the appointment. She apologized.”
“Sincerely?”
“Yes. She did seem very sorry.”
“So, what now?”
“I’ve asked her to come to my house.”
“She’s going there now?”
“Yes. And I would like for you to come as well.”
I felt my eyes widen. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said. “I would like to confront her.”
I pictured the jagged family scene and wanted to object. “With me there?”
“You can say no,” she said.
“I’m aware.”
“But I would like to have you there. Please.”
There was no supplication in her voice, only the neutral tone of a stated preference. I found it difficult to resist.
“Sure,” I said. “Should I follow her?”
“No. I would like you to beat her here if possible.”
She gave me an address in Glendale, and I sped ahead of Lusig.
*
Glendale was technically its own city, a separate entity from neighboring Los Angeles, though surrounded on almost all sides. It was heavily Armenian, even more so than Little Armenia, which was smaller and less defined, sharing most of its space with Thai Town. It wasn’t far from where I lived, but I rarely ventured that way unless I had a pressing need to visit a Nordstrom Rack or an Ikea.
Rubina’s place was a mansion in the hills, a beautiful white house with a perfect lawn trimmed with perfect flowers. I didn’t know too much about real estate, but I guessed this house cost a few bucks more than my apartment. I parked and stared at it for a few seconds before plugging the address into Zillow. A cool two million, sold two years earlier. Someone here had more than young doctor money, or at least ready access to generous parents.
I rang the doorbell and Rubina let me in within two seconds. She was wearing a smart, conservative gray wool dress with low black heels. She could have been a politician’s housewife.
“Nice place,” I said. “You could raise five kids in here.”
“One will do for now.”
I gave her a tight smile and cracked my knuckles. The entryway echoed with the pop of my bones.
She wrinkled her nose and sniffed. “You’ve been smoking.”
“I didn’t know meeting Lusig was part of the plan.”
I flapped my shirt to air it out, and she frowned. “Well, come in,” she said. “I’ll make us coffee.”
She led me into an immaculate kitchen, where she bade me sit in a breakfast nook that was too new and spotless to be quite cozy. She stepped across cold tile to a massive chrome-colored espresso maker, then pressed a button and brought the sleeping beast to life. Its groan displaced the silence in the room.
“Milk? Sugar?”
“Black’s fine,” I said. “Thanks.”
She sat across from me and folded her arms on the table, keeping her back straight.
“So,” I ventured. “What’s the plan here?”
“I’m going to come clean, then I will ask her where she went.”
“Are you sure this isn’t a private conversation?”
“Are you not a private investigator?” She forced a smile and I saw that this was as close as Rubina ever came to cracking a joke.
I dropped that line of inquiry. “So I just sit here and what, like, testify when called?”
“Yes,” she said. “Essentially.”
I sipped at my coffee. It was unusually good, and it gave me something to do.
I was almost relieved when the doorbell rang and Rubina sprang up to answer it. I geared myself for an unpleasant scene, making sure there was enough coffee left to fill a few pauses.
“Where have you been?” Rubina’s voice traveled loudly from doorway to kitchen.
“I told you,” said Lusig. “I was in Marina del Rey.”
“What for?”
“Lunch. It ran long, and then there was terrible traffic.”
“Who with?”
“Derek. I don’t think you know him.”
“Where’d you eat?”
“We had burgers. What is this?” Lusig’s tone was annoyed now, even righteously petulant. If Rubina didn’t have proof her cousin was lying, Lusig’s tack might have worked. “Why are you interrogating me about my lunch? Lay off.”
“You missed the appointment. I have a right to know why.”
“I told you why, and I said I was sorry. Now will you get off my back? I have my own life. I am literally just doing you a favor and that gives you permission to be on my ass all the time?”
“We had a doctor’s appointment!” Rubina was shouting now. “And thank you, by the way, for reminding me of your favor. As if I wanted to leave this to you. As if there were any chance I wouldn’t be happier carrying my own baby to the doctor.”
Lusig was silent.
“Please don’t lie to me,” Rubina said, in a calmer tone of voice. “Where were you?”
“I was getting lunch with Derek,” she said, enunciating each word.
“Come here.”
“Hey, ow!”
I looked up and saw Rubina march in, dragging Lusig behind her by the wrist.
“I know you’re lying to me,” she said.
A strange pallor came into Lusig’s complexion, and I could see it turn into a shade of recognition, an acceptance of defeat. “How?”
“I didn’t trust you, so I’ve been tracking you.”
“What does that mean?”
“I put a GPS device on your car.”
Lusig’s eyes widened, and she started to say something before breaking into a loud, indignant laugh. “What? Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious. And I know you were in downtown half an hour ago. You lied to me.”
But Rubina had given up her advantage. I could see the emotions running across Lusig’s face—if there was any contrition there, it was drowned out by betrayal and fury.
“You spied on me. That’s crazy.”
“I was right to spy on you. You’re hiding something from me.”
“I’m entitled to live my life however I see fit.”
“You have no right to run around town endangering my baby. Now, tell me. What were you doing?”
Lusig shook her head in disgust, and she looked at me, registering my presence for the first time. “Who’s this?” she asked with a sneer.
“She’s my friend. I asked her to be here.”
“You don’t have friends,” she said coldly. “What is she, some kind of intervention expert? This is bullshit.”
I winced. My sister had been dead for years, and I’d almost forgotten the tone of open cruelty that entered certain familial disagreements—the abandonment of restraint that results from assured forgiveness, the bitter truths spoken in anger, shot with unerring aim. I recognized it immediately.
I took a long sip of my coffee and cracked my thumbs.
“Hi,” I said, gett
ing up, when it was clear Rubina wasn’t about to introduce me. “I’m Juniper Song.”
“And what are you, Juniper Song?”
I smiled. “Korean?”
“Not what I meant.” She colored. She had white liberal written all over her, and I’d knocked her off-kilter.
“Rubina? It’s your move.”
“She’s been following you,” Rubina said with a light sigh. “For me.”
I raised my hand in a brief wave. “I’m a private investigator.”
Lusig turned white, then red with anger. “You’re a what?”
“You know, like a detective?”
She turned to Rubina with a vicious stare. “You care so much about this fucking baby? How about sparing me the emotional stress of an ambush?”
Rubina let out a quiet panicked sound that might have been the compression of a shriek. She pulled out the chair across from me and commanded, “Sit down.”
I half-expected Lusig to stand until fainting to make a point, but she sat.
“So,” she said, looking at me. “You’re a professional snoop, huh?”
I shrugged. “That’s more or less accurate.”
“You feel good about yourself?”
“I sleep okay. How about you?”
“I sleep like shit, what do you think? I’m up to my throat in baby.”
“Lusig,” Rubina interjected. “Stop being a snot.”
I smiled. There was something humanizing in this whole exchange, and I realized Rubina was a different person with Lusig in the room. She couldn’t manage to be formal, and her emotions, so skillfully checked on the phone with me, were ranging around in a way that was downright messy.
Lusig took a deep breath, and I saw for the first time that she wasn’t much more than an exhausted pregnant woman. “You had no right to spy on me, Ruby.”
“I did what I had to do.”
They spoke in reasonable tones for a few minutes, before anger reentered the conversation. I sat with my coffee while their argument ebbed and flowed, retreading the same hurt dignities, the same defenses. By the time they noticed me again, I was pretending to sip from an empty cup.
“You have to tell me what you were doing,” Rubina said. “Song saw you get in your car downtown.”
The mention of my name wrenched me back into the conversation, and I nodded attentively.
Lusig shrugged, her upper lip sulky.
“Take your sweatshirt off,” Rubina said.
Lusig laughed. “Why?”
“I saw that you changed,” I put in. I didn’t feel like listening to a five-minute fight about her sweatshirt. “You were wearing a suit. You’re still wearing that blouse.”
“You saw that I changed? You mean you watched me change.”
“Sure,” I said. “I watched you change in a public parking lot. For my own pervy gratification.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“Tell me what you were doing,” Rubina said again.
Lusig sat in sour silence for a full minute.
“I have a guess,” I said.
“Please.” Rubina was trying to recuperate her formal tone.
“She was looking for Nora.”
Lusig’s eyes met mine at the mention of her friend’s name.
“Downtown?” Rubina asked, glancing from me to her cousin. “Why would she be downtown?”
“Not like, hiding in a library carrel. I mean looking for her, trying to track her down. Sort of like what I do. Am I right?”
Lusig was silent, but she bit her lip in an expression that looked acquiescent.
“Lu?” Rubina nudged with a suggestion of gentleness.
“Okay,” Lusig said. “I’ve been looking for her.”
Anger spread across Rubina’s face. “You’re eight months pregnant! You shouldn’t even be lifting heavy objects, and you’re running around town, piling on physical and mental stress?”
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I’m being safe, okay? I’m not actually running, and I’m definitely not lifting any heavy objects. Plus, you want to talk about mental stress? My best friend has been missing for a month. Have you maybe thought that this is how I’m dealing with that?”
Her speech touched and chilled me. I’d started my career as an amateur sleuth, wrapped up in the problems of people I loved. Those people were all dead or dead to me now, and I knew firsthand that I’d taken beatings in search of bad truths.
“I have thought about it. I’ve thought about it constantly, Lu, of course I have. Which is why I have a proposal,” Rubina said. “For both of you.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Lu, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s too hard on you, and it’s unfair to me.” Lusig started to object again and Rubina stopped her. “Just hear me out. I just told you, didn’t I? Song here is a private investigator.”
My heart rate jumped. I realized I’d been sitting there, quietly, waiting for this.
“I remember. What’s your point?”
Rubina widened her eyes and slumped her shoulders in mild exasperation. “I’m willing to hire her to find Nora.”
Something like ecstasy coursed through my body, a strong and immediate relief from a tension that had built up inside me for days.
“The police haven’t been able to find her. Why would she?”
“And why would you?” Rubina retorted.
“Because I give a shit and no one else seems to.”
“What a terrible thing to say. We’re all worried about Nora.”
“Who’s we all? The Armenian collective? They can take kebabs to Mrs. Mkrtchian all day, but it won’t do anything to help Nora.”
“I’m telling you I care. I want her found. I just don’t think you have to be the one to find her. You’re eight months pregnant, Lu, and the baby you’re endangering isn’t even your own.”
“Jesus, I’m well aware of how pregnant I am. And like I said, I’m not endangering anyone’s baby.”
“Please. For my peace of mind. Isn’t that worth anything to you?”
Lusig bit her upper lip as if to seal it shut.
“I know what that’s like,” I cut in.
“What are you talking about?”
“To lose someone and need answers. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve lost.”
“What do you mean, ‘lost’?”
I hesitated. There was no reason to call attention to the specter of murder when there was no body to confirm the worst. “I wasn’t always a PI. I only got my license after I threw myself into something that turned out to be a case. A really personal, debilitating case. So I speak from experience when I say it’s not worth it. You should let me handle it. I’ll listen to whatever you need to say to me, and I’ll keep you posted. Rubina, does this sound okay to you?”
“I don’t expect Lusig to forget Nora is out there. I only want her out of harm’s way.”
I nodded. “Lusig?”
The sound of an engine floated into the kitchen, followed by the rolling rumble of a garage door opening. Rubina and Lusig grew visibly attentive.
“Someone coming home?” I asked.
“That’ll be Van,” said Rubina. “My husband.”
“Does he know about all this?” Lusig swirled her index finger in a way that indicated something distasteful that encompassed my presence.
Rubina opened her mouth, then looked down with a wry smile I hadn’t seen on her before. “I was going to tell him eventually. This day didn’t go exactly as I’d planned.”
She looked up again and met Lusig’s disbelieving eye, and after a tense moment, the two cousins broke down laughing.
“Oh, shit, Ruby,” said Lusig with a mirthful sigh.
“Honey? Is somebody here?” They fell silent under the disruptive call of this masculine voice, directly followed by the entrance of a man.
Van Gasparian was in his late thirties or early forties, with the tired expression of an older man. He kept his black hair short, but
I could see it was sparse and speckled with gray. He was tall and wiry, about six-foot-one, even with bad posture. He had dark eyes, dark brows, and a dark complexion, and in spite of evident wear and tear, he was compelling, if not decidedly attractive. I wondered if my assessment was influenced by the knowledge that he operated on brains for a living—I was raised by a Korean immigrant, after all.
His eyes found Lusig and widened in startled surprise, before turning to me with some puzzlement. “What’s going on here?” he asked.
“Hi,” I said, in my second awkward first encounter of the hour. “Juniper Song. You must be Mr. Gasparian.”
“Doctor,” he said.
I smiled. “Sorry, my mistake, Dr. Gasparian.”
“It’s all right. Reflexive, I suppose. It’s just that ‘Mr.’ is inaccurate. Anyway, how do you know my wife and cousin?”
I looked at Rubina. I felt like the voyeuristic producer of some soapy reality show.
“I’m hiring Song to find Nora,” she said. “For the safety of our child, Van.”
Van blinked at his wife, and his face twisted into an incredulous smile. “You’re what?”
“She’s a private detective. She’s been very devoted so far.”
“Let’s talk upstairs,” he said. “Nice to meet you,” he added curtly, glancing back at me. Then he turned around and left the kitchen.
Rubina followed him, leaving me and Lusig sitting at the table. I decided I’d help myself to more coffee.
I walked to the machine and asked, across the kitchen, “Do you want any?”
“No thanks.” She scowled. “No caffeine.”
“Right.” I smiled tightly and walked slowly back to my seat.
She watched me intently while I drank, trying not to avert my eyes. It was another minute before she spoke.
“So you think you can find her, huh?”
“I can’t make any promises,” I said. “I can’t say I’m smarter than the entire LAPD.”
“I sure hope you are. They’re a bunch of fucking losers.”
I shrugged. I didn’t particularly care for the police. Every month it seemed like a cop was Tasering, or pepper-spraying, or raping someone or another. They were definitely frisking minorities every day, sometimes killing them for nothing. But the one police officer I’d ever really dealt with seemed decent enough, and was definitely sharp enough to inspire some confidence. I made a note to call her later, though I doubted she’d want to hear from me.