“Which alley?” Audra asked.
“An old one. It runs behind some of the boarded-up places on San Pedro. I was on Crocker, near 5th heading back to Hi-Life. The next time I saw Greta, I knew Cheryl and the drug lady were the same people.”
“Why do you call Greta Miles the drug lady?” Bud asked, moving away from the window with curiosity.
Lizzie hesitated, then pushed on. “Because she supplies Mona with the drugs that Mona sells. Mona calls her the diner’s produce supplier, but she’s supplying more than just a few potatoes and heads of lettuce, let me tell you.”
“How are the dugs distributed exactly?” asked Audra. “Do people come to the diner for them?”
“Am I going to get in trouble for this?” asked Lizzie. “Maybe I should have a lawyer.”
“You have a right to a lawyer, of course,” Audra said, “but tell you what, Lizzie, talk to us and we’ll get you help. We’ll set you up in a drug program, get you a fresh start somewhere.”
“And if I don’t?” Lizzie asked, a worried look on her face.
“Then we’ll put you back out on the street and you can take your chances,” Audra told her, not sugarcoating it. “Providing, of course, we don’t find something to charge you with.”
“How long do I get to make up my mind?” Lizzie asked.
Bud looked at his watch. “One minute, Lizzie. Sixty seconds and this goes away.”
Lizzie glanced at Jeremiah and he gave her a nod of encouragement.
After taking another deep breath, Lizzie said, “Okay. Mona employs drug runners. People who deliver the drugs to customers. Mary was one of them.”
“How about you?” asked Audra.
Lizzie shook her head. “No, Mona never asked me. I only knew about it because Mary told me. The runners, all girls, never handled the money. The customers paid for the drugs in some way they didn’t know about. Mona would give them the drugs and tell them where to deliver them. Sometimes it was to guys in fancy cars stopped at street corners. Sometimes it was someone standing by a building, or seated on a bus bench, or waiting for an order at a lunch counter. It operated sort of like an ATM. The customers would give the girls a code and if it was the right code the girls would hand over the drugs.”
“Were the drug runners Ace’s girls?” Jeremiah asked.
“Not that I know of. Mary only became one after Ace cut her off because she got too old and ugly to work the streets. Some of them worked days, some nights. From what Mary told me, they got paid per delivery and on how big the order was. Some of them made good money, especially the daytime runners. A lot of businessmen from the financial district would come down on their lunch break to score drugs. Mary said business was really good on the first and the fifteenth of each month when a lot of those people got paid.”
“I don’t understand something,” Bud said. “If business was good, why did Greta pass herself off to Mary as her daughter?”
“I knew she wasn’t my kid,” came a hoarse voice from near the door to the room. Only Jeremiah looked up, trying hard to hide his surprise at seeing the ghost of Mistletoe Mary standing there with Granny.
“Look who I wrangled up for ya,” said Granny proudly.
“I don’t know really,” Lizzie said, answering Bud’s question. “Mary wouldn’t tell me where she worked or was living, but said the clients were coming to her instead of her being sent all over downtown. She said it was a sweet deal and she would soon have enough money to rent a decent place someplace else. She wanted me to go with her.” Lizzie smiled sadly, remembering. “She was always looking out for me, but she could barely take care of herself.”
“I did want you to go with me,” Mary Dowling’s ghost said to Lizzie even though she couldn’t hear her. “I had it all planned out.”
“I knew Mary had gotten herself into bad trouble the last time I saw her with that woman,” Lizzie continued. “There were some really bad vibes coming off her when she told me to leave her alone with Mary.” Lizzie started weeping. “I knew Mary was probably dead when I stopped seeing her around. But that’s all I know about anything. I swear.”
Jeremiah got up. “If you folks will excuse me, I need to make a quick call.”
As he passed Mary and Granny, he nodded at them to follow him.
Granny nudged the other ghost when Mary hesitated. “Go on with you. Jeremiah needs to get to the bottom of all this and can’t do it here.”
When he got in the hallway, Jeremiah asked a nurse if there was someplace he could make a confidential call. She gave him directions to a very small room near the elevator outfitted with a tiny table and a few chairs.
“Why do we have to talk here?” Mary asked after he closed the door and took a seat.
“Because,” Granny said, “he needs to ask you questions and couldn’t do it in front of the others. Sheesh. You do know you’re dead, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, you old bag,” Mary snapped. Granny looked ready to slap her.
“Okay, ladies,” Jeremiah said to the ghosts. “Calm down. Fighting won’t accomplish anything.”
He didn’t bother with his phone since they were alone, but he kept it ready in case anyone poked their head into the room or looked through the narrow window in the door.
“Mary,” he began, “do you know why Greta was pretending to be your daughter?”
“Sure. To get the drugs.”
“But I thought she supplied the drugs to you.”
“She supplied them to Mona,” Mary said. “I stole them from Mona.”
“That was a crazy thing to do,” Granny said to her. “No wonder you were whacked.”
“I am crazy,” she said looking at Granny and tapping the side of her head with an index finger. “Crazy as a fox. I took a lot of it, as life insurance and leverage.”
“Tell me about it,” Jeremiah said. “It will help Lizzie.”
Mary paced the tiny enclosure with its pale green walls, then finally said, “I didn’t understand why I couldn’t stay in the apartment with the other girls and Lizzie, but Ace and Mona said I couldn’t. They stuck me in that filthy laundromat with no running water. A place not even the rats wanted to live and put me to work delivering their drugs.”
“Lizzie said the runners were paid well,” Jeremiah said.
“Some made a mint, but not me.” She continued pacing back and forth like a wild animal penned for the first time. “But not me,” she repeated. “The only customers I got were those they could send to that filthy alley for pickup. The nickel-and-dime shit. The other runners got the big shots from the high-rise office buildings. The ones who bought big. We were paid on delivery and the size of the sale. I got cut out of all the good scores and left to rot in that laundromat.” She stopped pacing and grinned at Jeremiah. She had so many teeth missing, she looked like a Halloween ghoul.
“One day I went to the diner hoping to score some food. Sometimes Miguel, the graveyard-shift cook, would give me something. If he was alone, he’d let me come in. If he wasn’t, I had to wait in the alley.” She pounded a fist into her other hand. “Always the alley for me. Even with my johns.”
“Keep it going, Mary. Remember, this is for Lizzie.” Jeremiah knew Lizzie was in the clear, but he sensed Lizzie’s welfare would give Mary a motive.
“That morning I told Miguel that I needed to use the ladies room. He was alone, so he let me in. I used the bathroom and washed up a bit. It was glorious to feel hot running water, let me tell you. He fed me a hamburger and gave me some fruit. On the way out I walked past the office and saw the delivery from Milestone Farm. It was still all boxed up in Mona’s office, not in the kitchen where it belonged. I asked Miguel about it and he said Mona gave strict instructions that only she could unpack it and she’d been out when it had arrived the day before. Well, I put two and two together. I told Miguel I’d show myself out and since he was b
usy getting stuff ready for the morning shift, he went back to the kitchen.” She flashed her raggedy grin. “The cocaine was under a small flat of tomatoes. I took it and ran.”
“How did they know it was you who took it?” Granny asked. She was near the door, staying out of the way of the pacing ghost.
“They first accused Miguel of stealing it. Of course, he was innocent and confessed he’d let me use the bathroom.” She paused and her mouth turned downward. “I haven’t seen Miguel since.” As quickly as her mood changed from pleased to sad, it ricocheted to unconcerned and the ghost shrugged. “Oh well.” And she was back to her ghoulish grin. Granny and Jeremiah exchanged glances.
“I don’t understand why they didn’t kill you and take the drugs back?” Granny asked.
“Because she hid them, didn’t you, Mary?” Jeremiah said to the ghost.
Mary pointed at Jeremiah. “This guy knows the score, old woman.” Granny let out a low growl and for a minute Jeremiah thought one ghost was going to bite the other.
Jeremiah continued, piecing the puzzle together, “Greta had to have her own supplier and if a lot of drugs went missing she couldn’t pay him or couldn’t recoup her expenses.”
“I’m not as burned out as people thought,” Mary told them. “I’m sick and my body’s wasted, but I still have a few flashes of brilliance.”
“That so-called brilliance got you killed,” quipped Granny.
Before the two ghosts could tangle up again, Jeremiah said, “I still don’t understand why Greta posed as your daughter.”
Mary turned to him. “Because she thought I was a total burnout. She knew I had a daughter somewhere and that she’d grown up to be a lady.”
From behind Mary’s back, Granny looked at Jeremiah, pointed a finger at her own head, and turned it in circles, giving him the universal sign for nuts.
“She also knew I hadn’t seen Cheryl for years,” Mary continued, “so she tried to pass herself off as Cheryl to find out where the drugs were. Pretending to be Cheryl, she kept promising me that as soon as I gave Mona what I owed her, she’d take me to her house and I’d live there for the rest of my life.” She paused and looked from Jeremiah to Granny and back to Jeremiah, again pleased with herself. “I played along and told everyone I was going to live with my daughter. Until the last time that fake Cheryl and I met.”
“Was that the time Lizzie was with you and Greta sent her away to speak with you alone?” asked Jeremiah.
“Yes, that was the last time I saw Lizzie while I was alive. Greta and Mona came to realize that I was playing them as much as they were playing me, and Greta put it all out there. She offered me a lot of money to hand over the drugs and disappear. She said I could continue pretending to everyone I was leaving with my daughter.”
“So you gave them the drugs and they murdered you anyway,” Granny said, putting together the obvious scenario.
Mary thought about the outcome of her plan. “Yeah,” she said with confusion. “I guess I didn’t think that through. Greta and one of the other runners came with me back to the laundry place.”
As soon as Jeremiah heard about a third person, his ears pricked up like a German shepherd’s.
“I had the drugs stashed up under some of the dryers in their motors behind the front panels. I gave them to them. The runner shot me as soon as Greta gave her the sign.”
“Who was this other runner?” Jeremiah asked.
“I don’t know her name, but I’d seen her around.”
“Describe her,” ordered Granny.
Mary bobbled her head as she tried to remember as she came in and out mentally. “About Greta’s size.” She paused. “Kind of a bit butchy, you know. Very short hair. Wore a man’s jacket. One of those army jackets.”
“Are you sure?” Jeremiah asked, his heart sinking at the description, yet knowing Mary was probably right on the money. Beth’s new part-time job had been working for Greta and Mona as a runner with hopes of turning it into more.
“Pretty sure,” Mary said as she continued her pacing. “Like I said, I knew she was a runner. She worked daytime. At least I never saw her around at night.”
“And she was the one who actually shot you?” he asked.
Mary nodded.
Jeremiah stood up. “Mary, thank you, you’ve been a big help. Now will you do something else for me?”
“What’s in it for me?” the ugly ghost asked with attitude.
“Eternal peace,” Granny snapped.
“Granny’s right,” added Jeremiah in a softer voice than he’d been using with her. “We’re done here. You’re done here. Go with Granny, she’ll escort you to the other side where maybe you’ll find the peace you never had on earth.”
Mary looked at Granny and Jeremiah, then nodded to Granny. “Guess I am ready for some real peace. Let’s go.”
As soon as the ghosts had disappeared, Jeremiah returned to Lizzie’s room. “Sorry, but I have to go,” he told them. He looked at the scared look on Lizzie’s face. “Lizzie, you’ll be fine with Detectives Wilcox and Ornelas, and I’ll come back to visit you. Okay?”
With a scared look on her face, Lizzie bravely nodded.
It didn’t take long for Jeremiah to reach Skid Row from the hospital. There was no guarantee that Beth Jenkins would be hanging out where he’d last seen her, but like most people, the people on Skid Row were creatures of habit, and with Mona tied up, he knew she wouldn’t be busy as a drug runner today.
He found Beth on San Pedro almost in the same place, hanging out with one of the other women she’d been with the day before. There was no sign of Carmen, then he remembered that Carmen had a job.
“Hey, ladies,” he called as he got out of his SUV and approached them.
“Jeremiah,” Beth said, giving him a nod. She wasn’t wearing her field jacket, but a shorter black jacket of thinner material. The other woman acknowledged him but remained silent. In her hands was a lit joint. As before, there was no attempt to hide it.
“Have you seen Carmen?” he asked, knowing full well they hadn’t today.
“She’s working,” Beth told him. She seemed fidgety. “She works in some sweatshop down on Central.” The woman handed her the joint and she took a hit.
“Could you pass along a message to her for me?” he asked.
Both women nodded. “Sure,” Beth said. “What is it?”
“I know she’s friends with Bucket. Let her know he’s in the hospital. He’s not doing well.”
“I heard that pathetic dog of his died,” the other woman said.
“Yes, and Bucket’s not too far behind Lola. I just wanted Carmen to know, that’s all.”
“Sorry to hear about Bucket,” Beth said, the sentiment seeming genuine. “He was a crazy old coot, but usually pretty nice to people, unlike most down here.”
Jeremiah thanked them and started to leave, then turned around. “Beth, what happened to your jacket? Don’t you usually wear a field jacket?”
“It was stolen last night,” she said. “This is all I got now.” She pulled on the front of the thin jacket she was wearing.
“Get yourself over to the Angels office,” Jeremiah told her as he continued to his truck. “I’m sure Red can hook you up with another, if you want one. That jacket doesn’t look like it will keep you very warm.”
She nodded. “I might do that. Thanks.”
When he was back in his truck, he drove several blocks until he was out of sight, then pulled over and called Audra Wilcox. “Hey,” he said when she answered. “Have you gotten any ID yet on those clothes from the shooter?”
Audra snorted. “You’re kidding, right? Have you forgotten how long it takes to get stuff like fingerprints and DNA run? Or are you watching too many CSI reruns now that you’re retired?”
He chuckled back. “Sorry, I should have known better. Anyway, I’
ve been thinking about that jacket and I think I recognize it.”
“Who do you think it belongs to?”
“A vet named Beth Jenkins. She’s about Greta’s size with very short brown hair. She hangs out on San Pedro. I just saw her and she claims it was stolen yesterday.”
“Maybe she was your shooter from last night and not Greta Miles,” suggested Audra.
Jeremiah knew from Granny’s information that wasn’t the case, but said, “Might be worth checking out.” Jeremiah had to feed the information to Audra carefully, making it sound logical how he came to reach his conclusions. “She told me yesterday she has a new part-time job. Maybe she’s one of Greta’s drug runners and loaned the jacket to Greta.”
“Thanks for the lead, Jeremiah.”
“Go find Beth now,” he told her, “before she gets worried and rabbits. She seemed a bit antsy to me.”
“Got ya. We’re leaving the hospital now.”
He ended the call and pulled his vehicle back into traffic, turning it toward the Angels office. It was just past noon and he knew an attractive woman he wanted to take to lunch to make up for missing their date the night before. The police could handle everything else from here on out.
Chapter 17
The sun shone brightly as a handful of clergy and a few dozen people gathered to pay their respects at the Evergreen Cemetery in the Boyle Heights area of Los Angeles. A large grave, already covered in soil and a few flowers, including some bright red holiday poinsettias, was the centerpiece of the gathering as the clergy took turns saying prayers for the dead.
Jeremiah stood off to the back under a large tree with Rose, her arm threaded through his. With them were Jeff Sloan and Elizabeth Thompson. He’d invited Sloan and Lizzie out with them today, but hadn’t told them where they were going.
The Ghost of Mistletoe Mary Page 13