Leave a Message for Willie

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Leave a Message for Willie Page 18

by Marcia Muller


  I had stopped at home for the gun, and then Willie and I went to Sam’s house. Carolyn, very pale and looking like she hadn’t slept in days, told me where to find Sam. I left Willie with her and walked over to the beach.

  Now Sam said, “Carolyn tell you where I was?”

  “Yes.”

  “I said she should tell anyone who came. I’m not hiding anything; I’m not trying to avoid responsibility. I just came over here because I couldn’t sleep.” He paused. “You guessed all of it, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “From a few things people said. And one you did.”

  “About Jerry Levin being bald under that skullcap.”

  “That’s right. I should have noticed it at the time. You said you’d only seen him once, at David’s with Selena. He wouldn’t have taken the cap off there; you had to have seen his head the way I did.”

  “With his brains blown out and the cap on the floor next to him. Yeah.”

  “Carolyn caught it too. Did you tell her about killing him?”

  “I had to. It was so pathetic, the way that little cap rolled off his head after he fell on the floor.”

  “And that’s why you can’t sleep.”

  “I haven’t been able to sleep for years.” He crumpled his beer can and stared at its mangled shape. “What else made you realize I’d done it?”

  “Well, it would have been easy for you to get keys to Willie’s house. And Willie told me you suspected he was having an affair with Carolyn. You knew he wouldn’t be home that Sunday afternoon. I wouldn’t have understood how you got hold of Monty Adair’s gun if Adair hadn’t told me he kept illegal things – hot merchandise and controlled substances, he called them – stashed in Willie’s garage.”

  Sam looked surprised. “So that’s whose it was. I went there looking for some kind of proof about Willie and Carolyn. I know now that she was telling the truth when she said there was nothing between them, but at the time I was sure I’d find something. I wanted to drag it out in front of her, shove it under her self-righteous nose. Instead, I found this nice little stash. But I couldn’t figure out whose it was; I knew Willie never did drugs and wouldn’t own a gun. Monty’s, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “In a way it’s kind of funny.” But he didn’t look amused.

  “Sam,” I said, “why Levin? Why did you have to kill him?”

  “I didn’t have to. It just happened.”

  “How?”

  “He came in through that side door from the passageway. This was right after I found the stash. I heard him coming and hid. He started poking around in the garage, looking for something – those Torahs, I know now.

  “I’d grabbed the stash bag and taken it with me when I hid. The gun was there in it. I pulled it out, sneaked up behind Levin. And then I…I blew him away.”

  “Why, Sam?”

  “I don’t know. It was like a flashback. I was trapped there, and all of a sudden it was like being back in ‘Nam. I didn’t even think about it, I just blew him away.”

  I shuddered, picturing the cold-blooded act.

  Sam opened another beer. “I know what you’re thinking – that it was horrible. But it wasn’t, not really. I’d done so many worse things in ‘Nam. And he was lying there, kind of peaceful. If it hadn’t been for that hat falling off, and his pathetic little bald spot…”

  “What did you do then?”

  “Wiped the gun off so my fingerprints wouldn’t be on it. Messed the house up so it would look like a robbery.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking so clear. I guess it occurred to me that if the police thought he was a burglar they wouldn’t look so hard for whoever killed him. Then I got out of there, but I couldn’t go far; I wanted to see what would happen. And, man, things did.”

  “Like what?”

  “First Mack Marchetti showed up, only about fifteen minutes later. He went in the same way Levin had, and came out fast. I could see his face was white, even from where I was parked across the street. It made me feel good; Marchetti’s such a macho son-of-a-bitch; it’s good to know he couldn’t take it.”

  Unfortunately, it also meant he hadn’t the presence of mind to search for the Torahs – the exact location of which Adair had neglected to tell him – and had to come back the next night, when Alida spotted him. I didn’t want to remind Sam of that, however. “Then what happened?”

  “Marchetti took off. Willie arrived about six-thirty. He didn’t go in, though, just stuck the sign on the door about being at the Oasis. A few minutes later Roger Beck came by, and right after him, Monty. They both saw the sign and split.”

  “And then?”

  “Alida showed. That shook me. I figured she had keys to Willie’s house, and I didn’t want her going in there and finding Levin. I mean, Alida could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but she was really a very nice lady. She didn’t deserve that kind of trouble.”

  “So you went up there and asked her to take your cash to Willie at the Oasis.”

  “Yeah. I watched to make sure she left and then I split too. I figured Willie would be the next person to go into the house, and I knew he could do whatever had to be done.”

  I sighed. There it all was. Senseless. As senseless and sad as the war that had crippled Sam Thomas’s mind and made all of this possible.

  He continued drinking beer and looking out to sea. The sun had cleared the hills by now, and I could feel its warmth touching my shoulder. Above us gulls wheeled in the sky, looking for breakfast.

  “Sam,” I finally said, “why don’t you come with me and we’ll talk to the police.”

  “Not yet. Just let me stay here a little bit more. They’re going to put me away for a long time.”

  “Maybe someone can help you.”

  “Nobody can. Carolyn couldn’t.”

  No, I thought, she couldn’t. But did she really try?

  We sat there, watching the fog lift and the sun highlight the water. Finally Sam finished his last beer and stood up. He took a final look at the sea, and then we walked back to his house together.

  24.

  I lifted the lid of the pot, let the steam clear, and then sniffed its contents. Something was not right here. “Oregano,” I said, “maybe it needs more oregano.”

  “I’d be careful; that’s powerful stuff.” Willie sat at my kitchen table, drinking beer and – by all intents – supervising.

  “Garlic, then?”

  He just looked at me.

  “Well, I don’t know. I wanted to make a nice dinner for Don when he comes back and announces he’s got the job at the radio station. But I can’t make this sauce smell right!”

  “Sit down and have some wine.” Willie reached for a bottle of Chianti and poured some in a glass.

  I put the lid back on the pot and flopped down at the table.

  “How come you can’t cook?” Willie asked.

  I glared at him and picked up my wine. “I can. I bake terrific bread.”

  “So?”

  “This is different. With bread it’s like playing with a chemistry set – everything is timed, and the temperature has to be just so.”

  “That sounds harder than marinara sauce.”

  “Not really. You just follow directions, plus you get to play with the dough, kneading it.” I stared glumly at the pot on the stove, then checked my watch. Don had said he would be back by five, and it was quarter of now.

  Willie went to the racing-striped refrigerator and got another beer. “You were going to tell me the latest word on Marchetti and Adair.”

  “Oh right. I got so carried away in my culinary efforts that I forgot. They caught Marchetti down near Santa Barbara; probably he was heading for Mexico. He’s not talking, but they canvassed the area around your house and came up with a couple of witnesses who can place him there at the time of Alida’s murder. One even saw her following him, so I think they can build a pretty strong case. The
police agree with my theory that she saw him leave your house, followed to see what he’d taken, and he killed her to keep her from reporting it.”

  Willie’s face darkened and he took a swig of beer, but he didn’t say anything. Characteristically, he was keeping a tight rein on his emotions regarding Alida’s death.

  “Anyway,” I went on, “the police have also tied Marchetti to the theft of the Torahs and the Levin business because he had two sets of keys to your house on him – the one he used, and the other that he took off Levin’s body.”

  “Why’d he bother to do that?”

  “Didn’t want any link at all; in case Selena talked, there wouldn’t be any proof Levin had ever had the keys.”

  “That’s another thing I don’t understand – if Levin knew he was going to get those keys, why did he put on that act for you and make the appointment to meet us?”

  I shrugged. “Insurance, probably. If for some reason he couldn’t find the Torahs at your place, he could then try to talk you into hunting for them and turning them over to him.”

  “Do you think he was sincere about this religious conversion?”

  “I don’t think we’ll ever know. Selena thought so, but she’s a romantic and also pretty gullible. But on the other hand, Monty Adair believed it, and he’s as cynical and hard-headed as they come.”

  “Speaking of Monty, what about him?”

  “For starters, the police have him on kidnapping. Plus, there’s his complicity in the thefts.”

  “Good. I’d like to see the little weasel put away for a long time.”

  “He will be.”

  “A lot of good that’ll do me, though. I’ve lost two runners, and after this mess, the cops’ll be watching every move I make.”

  “At least you’re not in jail for murder.”

  “There’s that.” He was silent for a moment, and then his face brightened. “Actually, I been thinking. Maybe it’s about time I went legit.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I’m a damn sharp trader, and if I didn’t have to mess with phony receipts and deposits – not to mention the kind of scuzzballs I’ve got to deal with – well, there’s no telling what kind of bucks I might make.”

  I was pleased, but I said only, “You should think it over.”

  “I am. Yes, ma’am, that might be just the way to go. It’d be sure to put the cops’ noses out of joint if they were never able to get anything on me.”

  I grinned. “It certainly would.”

  Finishing my wine, I got up and went back to the stove. The mixture in the pot smelled the same. I was stirring it, hoping a little agitation would produce an improvement, when I heard the front door open. Don called out and came down the hall. He was carrying a bottle of champagne and a conical package from a florist’s shop.

  “You got the job!” I dropped the spoon in the pot and hurried over to him.

  “Yes – and it’s even better than I thought. Here.” He thrust the flowers at me. They were red-and-white carnations with one perfect rose in the center.

  I set the flowers carefully on the table and hugged him. “I’m so glad. Really I am.”

  He kissed me lightly, then studied my face. “You mean that, don’t you?”

  “Yes. We’ll have that talk soon, and then you’ll understand.” It was the truth: the last few days had reminded me that there are far worse things to fear in this world than the failure of love. I’d just have to learn to cope with emotional fear the way I did with the physical variety.

  He kissed me again and said, “Let’s break out the champagne.”

  Willie stood up. “I think I better be going.”

  Don waved him back into his char. “Stay. You’ve got reason to celebrate, too.”

  He popped the champagne cork while I got glasses. The wine bubbled over, but he got it poured in time. We toasted – to Willie, to me, to Don’s new job.

  “So tell us about it,” I said.

  He smiled broadly, tipping back his chair. “I’m not going to be just any d.j.”

  “Oh, no?”

  “No indeed. You are looking at the host of KSUN’s new celebrity talk show.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I’m not. They liked my demo tape, but the thing they liked most was the way I handled the teenage callers.”

  “Amazing.” The callins were the part of the show Don hated most. There was no way he could do them wearing earplugs.

  “Well, they did, so they proposed a talk show. I get a celebrity on there – someone who’s performing in town and looking for publicity – and ask him questions. We’ll take callins too, but they’ll be carefully screened.”

  “Is it good money?” Willie asked.

  “The best. Of course, I’ll still have to do a rock-and-roll show, but several times a week I’ll get to do the other. And they said to make it as controversial as I like.” His eyes gleamed, and I knew he was thinking of how to Create radio’s most embarrassing moments. For a man who hated rock-and-roll as much as Don, the job had fascinating possibilities.

  “Well, here’s to fortune and fame.” Willie raised his glass. “When do you move?”

  “As soon as I can find a place large enough for my baby grand piano.” Don glanced at me and winked.

  I gave an inward sigh of relief, not returning the wink because I never winked at anyone. The last hurdle had been crossed; he didn’t intend to move in with me. He understood my need to go slowly and carefully.

  “So what’s for dinner?” Don stood up and went to the stove.

  “Um, it was going to be lasagna,” I said, “but I’m not too sure about the marinara sauce.”

  Don raised the pot lid.

  “I’d take it kind of easy,” Willie said.

  I glared at him.

  Don sniffed at the sauce, drew back, and then sniffed again. “Come here,” he said to Willie.

  Willie went over there and Don pointed at the sauce, indicating he should smell it. Willie looked hesitant. Don said, “I insist.”

  Willie sniffed gingerly. Then he straightened up and looked at Don.

  “What do you think?” Don asked.

  Willie shrugged.

  “No, really.”

  “I think we should continue this celebration over dinner.”

  “Right.” Don turned toward me. “Babe, would you do us the honor of accompanying us to dinner tonight? There’s a wonderful little Italian restaurant that just opened over on Union Street…”

  We hope you’ve enjoyed this McCone mystery. Now check out the rest of Marcia Muller’s SHARON MCCONE series – all available as ebooks and audiobooks from AudioGO!

  1 Edwin of the Iron Shoes

  2 Ask the Cards a Question

  3 The Cheshire Cat’s Eye

  4 Games to Keep the Dark Away

  5 Leave a Message for Willie

  6 Double

  7 There’s Nothing to Be Afraid Of

  8 Eye of the Storm

  9 There’s Something in a Sunday

  10 The Shape of Dread

  11 Trophies and Dead Things

  12 Where Echoes Live

  13 Pennies on a Dead Woman’s Eyes

  Plus two short story collections: McCone and Friends, and The McCone Files.

 

 

 


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