by Gina Cresse
I’d spent a long time thinking about Wright’s assessment that Bradley Parker wasn’t guilty of killing his wife. I’d also thought about Craig’s comment that the drug dealer who’d hidden the purse looked guiltier than the husband. I questioned my own intuition and thought it couldn’t hurt to pursue the possibility that my first assumption could be wrong.
“Spencer. Can you do me a favor?” I asked.
“I knew it,” he complained.
“What?”
“You never call just to shoot the breeze. You always want something. I’m nothing but a channel of information for you. You use me like a pawn in a chess game. You take advantage of my good nature. I don’t know why I continue to be your friend.”
I tapped my pencil on the table. “Are you finished?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Good. Here’s what I need.”
Spencer tracked down the name and current address of the previous owner of my Explorer: William Mendenhal—R.J. Donovan Correctional Facility at Rock Mountain. Spencer helped cut through the red tape so I could get a visitation date to see Mr. Mendenhal. I had questions that only he could answer.
I sat opposite Willy Mendenhal. There was a short wooden barrier placed vertically on the table between us. He had no idea who I was or why I was visiting him. He was not an attractive man. His eyes were small and beady and set too close together. His hairline landed somewhere in the center of the top of his skull. The thin, dry, frizzy hair he had left was brown and tied in a ponytail at the back of his head. He was gaunt and his cheekbones stood out like shelves on the sides of his face. His teeth were crooked and yellow from neglect. It hurt my eyes to look at him.
He leered at me. “You one of those gals lookin’ for a prison pen pal?”
“No,” I replied.
“Too bad.” He pointed to an inmate across the room who was visiting with another woman. “Guy over there just got engaged to his pen pal. Never even met her till she decided she wanted to save some poor soul from the grips of the devil.”
The thought of a relationship with the creature seated in front of me turned my stomach. If he had a soul to save, I wasn’t going to be the one to take on the challenge. “I bought your Ford Explorer at an auction.”
He stared at me with a blank expression.
“The orange one,” I continued.
“So?” he replied. “You want your money back? Talk to the jerks who put me in this place.”
I leaned forward on my elbows and spoke quietly. “I had a little tire trouble—the spare,” I said.
His stare intensified. “Yeah? What kind of trouble?” he asked.
“I found the purse,” I told him.
His beady eyes shifted around the room. “I don’t know nothin’ about no purse.”
I expected this response. I was prepared. “Funny. My friend who works for the DOJ found your finger prints all over it, and the duct tape holding it to the rim,” I bluffed.
He looked like he wanted to cry. He leaned in closer to me and whispered as desperately as he could. “I didn’t have nothin’ to do with that lady they found. I swear it.”
“Then why’d you hide her purse in the tire?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
I pressed a little. “I think you pushed her over the edge. I bet the police would agree.”
He shook his head. “No way. I found the purse and used her credit card before I saw on the news that she was dead. I knew if they traced her card to me, I’d be lookin’ down worse charges than stealin’ and dealin’.”
Getting information out of this guy was easier than I thought it would be. Only problem was, he could be lying through his teeth.
“I still don’t see why you hid the purse,” I said.
He wiped the orange sleeve of his prison overalls on his forehead. “Bennie told me Jocko snitched on me. The narcs were on their way to my place. Bennie has a tire shop downtown. He helped me stash the purse. I read that letter—you seen it?”
I nodded.
He continued. “Looked to me like the lady’s old man probably off’d her. I figured I didn’t want to lose track of the purse, in case someone tried to pin the lady’s fall on me. I’d get that letter and show ‘em who they ought to be lookin’ for.”
“So you never told anyone about the purse?” I asked.
“Why would I? No one ever said anything about the lady.”
I tapped my fingers on the table. I thought he could be telling the truth. “How’d you get the purse in the first place?” I asked.
His eyes shifted around the room again. “Lady’s car sat out there for a couple days. I figured it was deserted. Had a decent stereo—and a bunch of CDs sittin’ on the seat. I busted the window to snatch the stuff. Just thought I’d check the trunk. The purse was in there. Had some cash—and the credit cards I told you about. Easy pickin’,” he bragged.
I thanked Willy for the information and pushed my chair out from the table.
He winked and flashed his slimy-toothed grin at me. “Sure you don’t wanna be pen pals? Gets awful lonesome in here, if you know what I mean.”
I forced a pained smile. “No, thanks.”
As I headed for the exit, he called across the room. “Then can we just get married? I think I might love you.”
I waited impatiently to be let through the exit doors before Willy launched any more proposals across the room. I felt a powerful urge to stop at the store and buy a bottle of anti-bacterial soap.
I’d never seen anyone’s face turn the shade of red that Sam Wright’s did as I sat across from him at his desk.
“You did what?” he hissed.
“I went to see Willy Mendenhal. He’s the previous registered owner of my Explorer,” I replied.
“I know who he is.” Wright glared at me. The veins in his neck popped out and I could see his jaw clenching again. “I want to know why you would do such a stupid thing.”
“It wasn’t stupid,” I defended. “In fact, he was very helpful.”
The pencil Wright held in his clenched fist broke in two. “And furthermore, how did you even know how to find the guy? That’s not the kind of stuff you get from the phone book.”
I felt the pace of my heart speed up a little. I couldn’t tell him how I got the information or Spencer would be in big trouble. “That’s not important. Last I checked, it’s still a free country, and I can go visit whoever I want—prisoner or not.” I moved to the edge of my seat and glared back at Wright. “What is important is that you have not gone to see Willy Mendenhal. You’ve done absolutely nothing with the evidence I’ve given you. A woman is dead, and you’re sitting here on your big…muscles, doing nothing!”
Wright picked up the two halves of the broken pencil from his desk and broke them again. I had the feeling he’d get some satisfaction doing the same thing to my neck. He took a deep breath. “As it so happens, I was on my way to see Mr. Mendenhal when you showed up and dropped your little bomb in my lap.”
I sat back in my chair. “Good. Then you’ll probably want to talk to me after, so we can compare stories.”
Wright dropped the broken pieces of yellow pencil on his desktop and cradled his forehead in his hands. “Tell me what he told you,” he moaned.
“Right now? I thought—“
“Yes. Right now, before I wring your little neck and you won’t be able to talk at all,” he snapped.
“Why are you so hostile? I’m only trying to help.”
Wright pushed the broken pencil pieces off the edge of his desk into a trash can. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a fresh new pencil and proceeded to sharpen it. “Before I joined the force, I was a building contractor up in L.A. County. I used to give people two versions of every bid. One price to do the job—another price, doubled, to do the same job if the customer wanted to help.”
I studied his face. The red flush crept up from his shirt collar. “You need to relax, Detective Wright. Take it from someone who knows.
You’re on your way to a massive coronary.”
He reached into his desk drawer again and pulled out a bottle of aspirin. He popped two in his mouth and washed them down with a swallow of Pepsi from an aluminum can. “Just tell me about your conversation with Willy Mendenhal.”
“Well, first of all, he didn’t kill Diane Parker,” I said.
“You’re kidding. He told you that?” Wright interrupted, not hiding the sarcasm in his voice.
“Can I finish?” I asked.
“Go ahead,” he allowed.
“He also thinks Bradley Parker pushed Diane off the cliff.”
“Well, there you go. Mystery solved. Let’s all go home. The drug dealer answered all our questions and did our job for us.”
I glared at the arrogant man across from me, rocking back in his swivel chair. I’d have given a hundred dollars to see that chair go all the way over, knocking the wind out of his sails. “It’s a wonder you can solve any crimes at all, considering how narrow minded you are,” I said.
He forced a smile. “I have half a mind to arrest you for interfering with a criminal investigation. You won’t like spending the night in the lockup.”
“According to you, there was no crime, so how can there be an investigation for me to interfere with?”
Snap. The new pencil was now two short stubs. “I’ve reopened the investigation. Stay out of my way. Let me do my job. Do not help. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly,” I replied.
“Good. Now tell me what Mendenhal said.”
I stared at Wright for a long moment, but didn’t say anything. I glanced down at my jeans and noticed a loose thread. I tugged at it to break it free.
“What are you doing?” Wright demanded.
“Not helping. Isn’t that what you want?”
“Jeez Louise! You are the most exasperating woman I’ve ever come across. Do you irritate everyone this way, or am I just lucky?”
I smiled at Detective Sam Wright. He would be a challenge, but eventually, I’d get to him—if he didn’t kill me first.
Chapter Five
I scanned through microfiche records looking for all the newspaper accounts of Diane Parker’s death. Her body was found on the rocks at the base of a cliff near Point Loma. A young couple discovered her when they were climbing over the rocks trying to get back to the trail that led up to higher ground before the tide came in. The reports didn’t provide many details. She was wearing running shoes and appeared to be a jogger. It was the fall that killed her, not a stroke or a bullet. She was covered with bruises, but those could have come from the fall. She had been dead two days before being discovered. Her vandalized car was found shortly after she was. The location where her car was found was described, and a picture of it, with its broken window and open trunk, appeared in the lower corner of the page. I printed out the last article and gathered up my things.
I slid into the Explorer and slammed the door, then checked my watch. Craig was working at the hospital and wouldn’t be finished with his patients until later in the evening. I didn’t want to do what I was considering doing by myself. I slid the key into the ignition and started the engine, then cringed when I heard a loud grinding as I shoved the gearshift into reverse. I resolved to practice my clutching skills before I did some real damage.
I parked in front of Jason’s Appliance and Repair Shop. Jason was busy attaching the canvas strapping around a large side-by-side refrigerator so he could dolly it into the shop. He saw me approach and smiled. “Hey, Dev. Give me a hand?”
I stopped and grinned. I couldn’t resist. I began applauding.
“Very funny. I mean help me. Rocky went out for donuts, and this thing’s too big for me to handle by myself,” Jason complained.
I stepped up to the big appliance. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Just get on the other side and push the top over when I tell you to,” he instructed.
“Okay,” I said, placing my hands against the refrigerator.
Ever since leaving the library, I wondered how I would convince Jason to help me. He’d never go along if he knew what I was up to. As we maneuvered the big refrigerator through the doors, I started my pitch. “Can you get away from the shop for a little while?” I asked.
“What for?”
“I need you to help me with something,” I replied.
We rolled the dolly around a corner and Jason stopped. “This is good, right here. Let’s let her down,” he instructed. “Help you with what?” he asked as he untied the straps around the appliance.
“I want to go check out something at Point Loma. You know that area pretty well, don’t you?”
Jason eyed me suspiciously. “Yeah. What is it you want to check out?”
“Just something I saw in the paper. I know there are cliffs and rocks out there. I’m not sure about the tides. I don’t want to get stranded or fall off a cliff or anything,” I explained.
“What about your hero, Craig? Can’t he help you?”
“He’s busy at the hospital, saving lives. You’re just here fixing refrigerators.” I winked at him, knowing he wouldn’t be offended by my remark. We’ve been friends too long.
“Uh huh.” He squinted at me. “I can’t leave the shop till Rocky gets back.”
I nodded. “Right. With the donuts. Thought you were gonna give those up.”
“No. I said I’d cut back on the donuts. I never said I’d give them up.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Whatever. So you’ll come with me?”
Jason folded his arms across his chest. “Will I regret it?” he asked.
“Will you regret seeing my body being fished out of the surf because I fell off a cliff or got caught in the tide?” I retorted.
Jason screwed his face up into a painful-looking contortion. “God I hate it when you do this.”
“Do what?”
“You know what. I know you’re up to something, otherwise you’d come out and tell me what’s out at Point Loma,” he complained.
“I’ll tell you the whole story on the way. Hey, you want to drive? You haven’t seen my new Ford yet,” I baited.
“Yeah? You picked it up at that auction?” he asked.
“Yep. Explorer. Got a good deal.”
The bell on the front door rang and Rocky came strolling into the shop with a pink bakery box. I followed Jason out to the show-room floor.
“Watch the shop for me, Rocky. I’ve gotta help Dev with something,” Jason said.
Rocky stuffed half of a glazed donut in his mouth. He nodded, unable to speak. His mouth was so full he could barely close his lips. Jason peeked in the pink box and grabbed a maple bar. He motioned to me. “Help yourself,” he offered.
I smirked at him. “No, thanks. Wouldn’t want to deprive you of your sugar fix.”
I handed Jason the keys as we stood next to the Explorer. He gawked at the writing on the door, then laughed. “The Sunkist Mobile. You bought this?”
I walked around to the passenger side door. “It was a great deal. You want to drive or not?”
Jason started the engine and stepped on the clutch. The awful grinding sound pierced the air as he put it into reverse. “Jeez. I think you better have the transmission checked out,” he said.
I nodded. “I thought it was just me. I’ll take it into the shop when I get a chance.”
I waited until we were nearly to Point Loma before I pulled the printouts of the newspaper articles out of my purse. I read the description of the location where Diane Parker’s car was found to Jason. “You know where that is?” I asked.
“Yeah. That’s where we’re headed?”
“Yes,” I replied.
Jason pulled over to the side of the road and parked. I gaped at him. “Why are we stopping?” I asked.
Jason pointed his finger in my face. His eyebrows nearly met in the deep furrow between them. I’d seen that look on his face before. He was angry. “We aren’t moving another inch until you tell me the wh
ole story,” he announced.
“I told you. I just want to go look around.”
Jason opened the driver’s side door and stepped out. He started walking back the direction we’d come from.
“Where are you going?” I demanded. I piled out of the passenger side door and chased after him. He kept moving.
“Back to the shop. Find someone else’s life to mess up today. I’m not interested in another one of your fiascoes.”
I stopped and watched him march down the street. I racked my brain for some way to stop him. I called out to him. “If I tell you the whole story, will you come with me?”
He didn’t miss a step. He kept walking.
“Jason! Please. I’ll tell you everything, but I’m scared. I don’t want to go out there alone,” I pleaded.
He stopped and turned. “You tell me the story, then I’ll tell you whether I’ll go or not.”
I told him about the purse in the spare tire, the letter Diane Parker wrote to her husband, the visit out to the Donovan State Prison, the confrontation with Sam Wright, and I showed him the copies of the newspaper articles I’d gotten from the library. He studied the papers and shook his head. “I can’t believe you, Dev. Why don’t you listen to that detective and stay out of this?”
“Because I think someone killed Diane Parker. I think maybe her husband killed her, but mostly, I want to find out the truth.”
Jason took my shoulders in his hands and gave me a gentle shake. “The police will get to the truth. They don’t need you to get in the middle of it. You could get hurt.”
I shook his hands off my shoulders and took a step back. “She’s been dead for over a year. The police aren’t looking. Someone owes Diane Parker’s sons the truth. Someone owes Diane Parker her life. Someone has to find justice in this.”