Death in a Wine Dark Sea

by Lisa King

  “We’ll try to work around that,” Roman said. “Shall we call Diane and ask her to come over?”

  “I’m not going near her,” Ivan said. “I want you to find out if she’ll play it my way. If she will, Jean can bring me the money and I’ll tell her where I put Wingo ashore.”

  Zeppo leaned forward. “How do we know you didn’t put him ashore at Marina Green and then leave? You could be making up the second drop to get the reward.”

  “Lying creates too much stress in my life. I do most of my business on a handshake. Anyway, I don’t need the money bad enough to piss you off, make you tell the cops about me.”

  “Even if it’s true, the police have to be able to make a case that’ll hold up in court,” Zeppo said. “You can’t expect Diane to pay the whole amount for information she may not be able to use.”

  “A few grand isn’t worth my time and aggravation,” Ivan said with a shrug. “I might as well sail back up north right now.”

  “How about $5,000 for the location and another five for the watch?” Zeppo said.

  Ivan gave it some thought. “Yeah, OK. I know it’s worth a lot more than that, but I can’t fence the thing and I never wear one.”

  “We’ll have to run it by Diane,” Zeppo said. “What’s your cell?”

  “I don’t own one. Those things stress me out. Give me a number.”

  Jean recited Beau’s number, and Ivan took a pen from his breast pocket and wrote it on his forearm near the faded tattoo.

  Roman gestured at Ivan’s tattoo. “I see you were a Marine. You’re the right age for Vietnam. Were you there?”

  “I was there, all right. Did three tours of duty.” He smiled wistfully. “Those were some good times.”

  Roman raised an eyebrow. “Are you staying nearby?”

  “I’m anchored over in Sausalito.” He stood. “Well, I should hit the road.”

  “We’ll talk to Diane today,” Jean promised.

  “Later, then,” Ivan said. “Peace.” He went out the front door.

  “This could be a major break,” Jean said. “Once we know where Martin went, we can work on how he met his killer.”

  “Zeppo may be right about Ivan’s story being a fabrication,” Roman said. “Wait and see what the money buys.” He looked at Zeppo with amusement. “How clever of you to get Martin’s watch thrown into the bargain. I see you’ve had some experience with this sort of transaction.”

  “Yeah. I graduated from the University of Martin Wingo.”

  “Now I’d better call Diane,” she said, dialing her mobile number.

  “Thank God, Jean,” Diane said. “I wish you’d get a cell. Where are you?” She sounded upset, and Jean could hear traffic noise in the background.

  “Beau’s.”

  “Can I come over? I have to see you right away.”

  “Sure,” Jean said. “Is something wrong?”

  “Can’t talk. See you soon.” She hung up.

  “Diane’s on her way over,” Jean told the two men. “Something’s up. Hey, how was the firing range?”

  “It gave me a headache, too,” Zeppo said. “I didn’t really like shooting a gun.”

  “Yet he’s not a bad shot for a man who’s probably legally blind without his glasses,” Roman said.

  “Check this out.” Zeppo handed her the newspaper he’d brought with him, pointing to a headline on page three: “Sculptor Accused of Sex Crimes.” The subhead said “Armand Setrakian Will Lose Lucrative Elan Commission.” They’d run a photo of Armand looking handsome and harmless. The byline was Helen Tang.

  “All right!” Jean exclaimed. “The shit has hit the fan.” She read the article. Helen Tang had tracked down the women Zeppo knew about, and three of the four had admitted being paid to drop the charges. A spokesman for Elan had announced they were withdrawing the commission, saying that “an investigation into recent allegations indicates that Mr. Setrakian does not embody the spirit of Elan.” Through his attorney, Armand had denied everything.

  “This is perfect,” Jean said. “Now we wait for other women in his life to come forward.”

  “Meanwhile, we’d better unpack the groceries so we can eat,” Roman said.

  The three of them worked in the kitchen until the doorbell rang. Jean let Diane in—she hadn’t looked this bad since right after the wedding. She was shaky and pale, her white jeans had a spot on the leg, her white and gold Hermès sweatshirt was rumpled, and she wore no makeup. Any residual anger Jean felt vanished. “Honey, what’s the matter?”

  “Oh Jean, the most terrible thing has happened,” Diane said. “They’ve arrested Peter for Martin’s murder.”

  CHAPTER 34

  “What!” Jean exclaimed.

  “It’s true. He came over yesterday with papers for me to sign, and he was so upset about breaking up with you that I persuaded him to take the rest of the day off and go sailing. After that we went to his apartment and he made dinner. We had some wine and talked until really late, and . . . I don’t know how to tell you this, but I ended up spending the night.”

  Jean sat down, stunned. “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s perfect!” Zeppo and Roman had come into the living room.

  “Jean, please. Then Hallock and Davila pulled him out of bed at six A.M. to arrest him.”

  “How awful.”

  “I should never have let it happen. But we were both feeling sorry for ourselves, complaining about your temper and your . . . bad habits, and I’m very fond of him, and I’ve been so lonely, and he was so sweet.”

  “Peter must be in shock.”

  “He is. We had no idea he was even a suspect. The police think he planned to kill Martin after I married him to get me and the money. They believe that whatever his plan was, he took advantage of the situation and pushed Martin overboard when he found him alone on the aft deck. Hallock was obviously trying to trick me when he told me they’d eliminated all the suspects on the boat.

  “The worst thing is, Peter’s fingerprints are on Martin’s boutonnière, on the satin ribbon and the backing. There are other prints, too, of course. Peter says he straightened it early in the evening, but the police think he grabbed it when he and Martin were struggling. And then Peter drove by Marina Green after Jean called to see if Martin was still there. He was the only one who was definitely in both places. They say he forced Martin into the car and killed him by hitting him on the head and throwing him off the pier at Aquatic Park. They think he changed Martin’s clothes so it would look as if he never got to shore, that Jean was making it all up.”

  “Why that’s . . . that’s outrageous,” Jean sputtered. “I was with Peter on deck. No, wait, we separated several times. Oh shit. When I gave my statement, Davila asked me about that. They must have suspected Peter for a long time.”

  “He thinks they’ve been following him at least since the autopsy,” Diane said. “He’s spent so much time with me, and they think we’ve been having an affair for months and just got sloppy last night. I can tell Hallock thinks I’m involved. At least I was able to get Rex Pfeiffer to represent Peter.”

  “Smart move,” Jean said. Pfeiffer was a high-priced, high-profile criminal lawyer who had a reputation for manipulating juries with courtroom theatrics. He was also known for winning. “So I guess you don’t want us to stop investigating after all.”

  “You’re right—I want you to keep going.”

  “We have some news that might help Peter.” Jean told Diane about Ivan. “But it’s up to you—are you willing to pay him off without involving the police?”

  “Yes, of course,” Diane said at once, “if that’s the only way he’ll tell what he knows. And I’ll be glad to get the watch back.” Diane ran a hand through her tangled hair. “I must look awful. What with tracking down Pfeiffer and being questioned and waiting around to see Peter, I haven’t been home yet.”

  “What did Pfeiffer say about bail?” Zeppo asked.

  Jean knew he’d been denied bail for Sarah’s killing and had spe
nt the entire trial in custody.

  “He thinks it depends on the judge,” Diane said. “There’s a bail hearing tomorrow morning.”

  “If you post bail it’ll confirm suspicions that you two are co-conspirators,” Roman said.

  “I know,” she said, “but no one else can afford it, and I can’t bear to let him spend any more time in jail for a murder he didn’t commit.”

  Jean reached over and squeezed Zeppo’s hand. She saw Roman watching her with his sharp black eyes.

  “Diane,” Jean said, “are you going to tell the police about the blue box?”

  “They let me see Peter for a few minutes at the jail, and we decided to wait until we find out how strong the case against him is. I’ll get into a lot of trouble for not telling them about it sooner. You and Zeppo will be in trouble, too, Jean. Of course if things look bad for Peter, we’ll have to tell them about both Ivan and the blue box.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Zeppo said.

  Diane’s cell rang and she carried it into the library, emerging a few moments later.

  “That was my chef, Celia,” she said. “Hallock and Davila are on their way here, and my house is under siege by the press.”

  “You can stay here,” Jean said. “There’s plenty of room.”

  “Thanks, I will. Can I take a shower? I feel awful.”

  “Come on upstairs.” Jean led Diane to the small bedroom down the hall from Beau’s. “Zeppo and I are in Beau’s room, so you can have the guest room.”

  “Why are you two staying here?”

  “Because your pal Hugh tried to run us down again last night, here in the city.”

  “I still think you’re wrong, Jean. I saw the paper today about Setrakian. He knew you were going to do that. It couldn’t be Hugh.”

  “So you think Peter pushed Martin off the boat.”

  “Of course not.” Diane sat on the bed, her head in her hands. Jean noticed that she no longer wore her wedding ring. “I don’t know who pushed him—I just know it wasn’t Peter or Hugh. I’m sorry about what I said. Please, I can’t stand to fight with you anymore.”

  “I’m sorry, too. Let’s agree to disagree about Hugh until I can prove it. Right now we have to concentrate on clearing Peter.” Jean got her a clean shirt and left her alone.

  Downstairs Jean could hear Roman rattling around in the kitchen. The smell of roasting chiles drifted out to the living room, where Zeppo paced, nervous and uneasy. She knew he dreaded talking to the cops again.

  “Hey,” Jean said, “it’ll be fine. Just be cool or they’ll think you’re guilty of something.”

  Zeppo took a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. I haven’t felt this stressed since Martin went into the bay.” He put his arms around her waist. “Normally I’d phone Hannah. But I like your brand of therapy better.”

  The doorbell rang within the hour and Jean admitted Hallock and Davila. “Hello, fellas,” she said. “Inspector Hallock, have you come to apologize?”

  “We need to ask you a few questions,” Hallock said, irritated.

  “If you’re polite, I may answer them.”

  “Is Mrs. Wingo here?” Davila asked. “We won’t bother her any more than we have to.”

  “Yeah, she’s here.” Jean showed them into the living room, where Diane waited, her damp hair braided and Jean’s T-shirt much too big over her white pants.

  “Mrs. Wingo,” Hallock said, “we have a few more questions for you.”

  “Very well, Inspector.” Diane was giving them her icy grande dame attitude.

  Roman leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. Jean was amazed at how a man could put so much hostility into the way he stood.

  Hallock eyed Roman. “You’re that guy from Bash Back, aren’t you? Villalobos.”

  “That’s right, Inspector.” Roman managed to be softspoken and insolent at the same time.

  “You live here?”

  “No, in the small house behind this one.”

  “We’ve been talking about you down at the Hall,” Hallock said. “A friend of mine from General Works is looking for whoever beat up a couple of sailors last Wednesday in North Beach. One of them has a ruptured spleen. It wasn’t a robbery. Looks like they were hassling some queer and got more than they bargained for. You know anything about it?”

  “It wasn’t I. When it comes to sailors I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  Davila looked at Roman with disgust. “Maricón,” he said under his breath.

  The harsh, ugly word startled Jean. Any attraction she’d felt for Davila evaporated in an instant. Roman gave the inspector a wicked smile and said something softly in Spanish. Davila’s face flushed and he took a step toward Roman, his hands clenched into fists.

  “Easy, Oscar,” Hallock said, grabbing his partner’s arm. “Don’t let the asshole rile you. Mrs. Wingo, why don’t you go in that room with Inspector Davila? I’ll stay here with Ms. Applequist.” Davila pulled himself back and accompanied Diane into Beau’s library, closing the door. Hallock turned to Roman and Zeppo. “If you gentlemen will excuse us? And Mr. Zeppetello, stay close by. We’ll want a word with you, too.” Jean could hear Roman chuckling as the two men retreated to the back of the house.

  Hallock asked Jean about Peter and Diane’s alleged affair, coming at it from different angles, but finally gave up. After questioning Zeppo briefly, he and Davila left, looking frustrated and annoyed.

  When the police had gone, Diane got on the phone with Rex Pfeiffer and the other three gathered in the kitchen to make dinner. Jean poured a rich, berry-scented Paso Robles Zinfandel for Zeppo and herself, and Roman sipped Bourbon, grinning broadly as he stuffed cheese into roasted chiles.

  “You look pleased with yourself, Roman,” Jean said. She handed Zeppo the rice cooker. “I guess it cheers you up to get the police all hot and bothered.”

  “Always. It’s not usually so easy to do.”

  “What did they want from you, Zeppo?” Jean asked.

  “It was all about Diane and Peter and whether they were cheating on Martin. I told them I thought it was bogus. It wasn’t so bad—Roman talked me down beforehand.”

  Jean looked at Roman. “You’re teaching him the correct attitude toward cops, huh?”

  “That’s right. In Zeppo I recognize a kindred spirit—another outlaw who has serious problems with authority figures.”

  “You know, I was really surprised by Davila’s attitude toward you, Roman,” Jean said as she cut up a cucumber. “He seemed so reasonable before.”

  “Nobody’s more homophobic than Latin males,” he said, “unless it’s Latin male cops.”

  “What did you say that got him so upset?”

  Roman grinned. “Just boy talk.”

  Diane came into the kitchen. “Can I help?”

  “Don’t let her near the food,” Jean warned. “How about setting the table?”

  They dined on chiles rellenos, salad, rice, and homemade venison tamales from Roman’s freezer. Diane, exhausted, excused herself and went to bed early.

  “Diane and Peter,” Jean said when her friend had gone upstairs. “It’s perfect. They’ll have a baby within two years or I’m Sarah Palin.”

  Roman smiled. “You’re quite a matchmaker, driving them into each other’s arms like that.”

  “Nice work, huh? I couldn’t have done a better job if I’d planned it.”

  “There’s nothing like a little adversity to make the sparks fly,” Roman said. “Look at the two of you.”

  “Let’s have the sparks without the baby, OK?” Zeppo said as he helped himself to another tamale.

  “That’s my plan, too,” Jean said. The phone rang and she answered it.

  “Hey, sweetheart, this is Ivan. You talk to the widow yet?” She could barely hear him over rock music and bar noise in the background.

  “Yes, and she says she’ll go along. How do you want to work it?”

  “Let’s meet in Sausalito tomorrow afternoon. Somewhere publ
ic.”

  “How about Spindrift Restaurant?” Jean said. “It’s right on the main drag.”

  “I know it. Be there around six. If there’s a problem, leave a message at the bar. Peace.” He hung up.

  “It happens at six,” Jean said.

  “Good,” Zeppo said. “That’ll give Diane plenty of time to get to the bank.”

  “What sort of place is Spindrift?” Roman asked.

  “It’s a touristy restaurant and bar on the water,” Jean told him. “Has a big singles’ scene.”

  Roman poured himself another Bourbon. “While you’re meeting Ivan, why don’t I borrow Nick Rigatos’ sailboat and take a look at the boats anchored in the harbor there?” he said. “If I can spot Ivan’s, you’ll be able to find him later.”

  “Perfect,” Jean said. “We may need him if things get ugly for Peter. But meanwhile we’ll work on getting the charges dropped before it even goes to trial.”

  “Let’s not forget the Castro Street Irregulars are on the job,” Roman said. “Regarding Peter, perhaps we should consider the possibility that the police are right.”

  Jean gave him a look. “That Peter pushed Martin off the boat? That he’s been screwing Diane for months? It’s preposterous. Neither of them would ever betray anyone. Even if I wouldn’t consider it betrayal, Martin sure as hell would have.”

  “It’s ridiculous,” Zeppo said. “The guy has a heavyweight job and he was sleeping with Jean. Where’s he going to find the time and energy for Diane? Besides, Martin and Diane were really hot for each other. They were so cutesy sometimes it made me gag.”

  “Maybe Peter and Diane weren’t lovers,” Roman said in his soft, reasonable voice. “What if Peter planned to kill Martin and then pursue Diane as soon as he’d dumped you, Jean? He knew he wouldn’t have to wait long for you to give him a reason. Diane needn’t have known a thing about it.”

  Jean shook her head. “Peter may be a lawyer, but he’s not slimy. How could he count on Diane falling for him? What if she weren’t interested? He’d have killed Martin for nothing.”

  “They spent a lot of time together. Maybe he could tell she was attracted to him, but wouldn’t do anything about it because of Martin and you. Did you see Peter straighten Martin’s boutonnière?”