by M. Z. Kelly
“That’s not possible,” I said, pulling my bathrobe tighter around myself. Bernie had followed me out of the house and was growling at Krump. “We’ve just started packing.”
“Either move out in two days or the authorities will physically remove you from your homes and put your belongings in the street.”
Natalie came over and eyeballed the short, stocky lawyer who had once represented us in similar proceedings against the park after she’d sunbathed in a skimpy bikini. We’d won that case, but Krump was now a partner with a lawyer who advertised on TV, calling himself Mean Gene, The Suing Machine. In a short period of time, the youthful attorney had transformed himself into a legal pit bull, with no redeeming qualities.
“You need to leave our property immediately,” Natalie said, wagging a finger at Krump. “If you don’t, we’ll have you arrested for trespassin’.” She looked at me. “And we got us a copper who will make good on that promise.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Krump said, cutting his dark, beady eyes in my direction. “You can’t arrest me.”
Mo came over and put her hands on her ample hips. “Not only can she arrest you, she’ll make sure you spend the night with Sugar Bear.”
Krump blanched. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talkin’ ‘bout you finally losing your virginity in lockup to a big guy who likes ‘em young and pudgy.” She poked Krump’s belly with a finger.
Krump backed away from her. Either her physical bearing or what she’d said must have impacted him because he farted as he moved toward the road. “You need to be gone in forty-eight hours. You can’t stay a minute longer.”
Tex and Howie went over as he got in his car. Just before Krump rolled up the window, Howie waved a hand through the air and said to Tex, “Did you get a whiff of that? It smells like a lawyer’s aftershave.”
“Eau de toilet,” Tex agreed.
After Krump was gone, I went over to my friends and sighed. “What are we going to do now?”
Mo answered. “I’ll see if we can get into the Craven house earlier than we planned, but they’re still shootin’ a movie there.” She eyeballed me. “You look like you been mugged.”
Natalie came over to me. “Did you and that Ross bloke finally go for a roll in the hay?”
She was referring to a detective I’d been seeing. I shook my head. “I just had a long night at work.”
“We heard that detective you work with ate it last night,” Mo said.
Mo had lots of contacts on the police force, so it wasn’t surprising that she knew all about the murder of Mel Peters. I nodded. “She was a friend.”
Tex and Howie came over, offering their help with the case. Natalie’s brainy boyfriend delivered a brief discourse on the subject of homicide. “The tendency of the human species to inflict fatal bodily harm is without equal in the animal kingdom. Homicide, fratricide, filicide, nepoticide, and matricide are all variations on death at the hands of another. It sounds like Kate’s possibly dealing with a chumicide.”
“What’s that?” Natalie asked.
“Murder at the hands of a friend.”
Howie was apparently still reeling from his encounter with Krump and paraphrased Shakespeare. “The first thing we do, is kill all the lawyers.”
“That’s a bloody good idea,” Natalie said. She lowered her voice, her hazel eyes growing wider. “We could use a machete on Krump, then dissolve his body in a tub of acid like they did on that TV show Breaking Bad.”
I groaned, rubbing my head. “It’s too early in the day to contemplate murder, even if we’re talking about our former attorney.”
“Why not come over for a cuppa and some scones.” Natalie looked at Tex and Howie, probably sensing I’d had my fill of them. “You boys need to run off and find someone to electrocute. Me and Mo got girl business with Kate.”
After Tex and Howie reluctantly sauntered off, I went home and took a shower before stopping off at my friends’ mobile home for coffee. As Bernie settled at my feet, I slumped down on the sofa and said, “I’ve only got a few minutes before heading off to work.”
“Do you think your crazy ex-police chief, whacked your friend?” Mo asked, while running a pick through a red afro. My friend suffered from wig addiction, so it wasn’t uncommon to see her wearing a different colored wig every day.
“We’ll need to talk to him today, but I’m sure Dunbar has an alibi.”
Natalie sipped her tea, then offered her opinion. “Chief Dumbbell might have done it, but it also coulda been one of them gigolos Mel was seein’.”
“How did you know about that?”
“We got more sources than the White House press corps. You really gotta ask?”
I sighed. “I guess not.”
“Rumor on the streets is that she had a secret life, hooking up with lots of guys,” Mo said. “It might be that one of ‘em did a double D and went too far.”
A double D was a domestic disturbance. “It’s possible, but, so far, there’s nothing to indicate that.” Mo had lots of street contacts, so I added, “Let me know if you hear anything more from your sources.”
“Speaking of domestic situations,” Natalie said, looking at Mo as she broke off a piece of her biscuit for Bernie, “Mo’s been gettin’ the leg over with Cleo.”
Mo stopped working on her wig for a moment and smiled. “My favorite plumber’s got all the right equipment and he works for free.”
“I’m happy for you,” I said. “He seems like a nice guy.”
Natalie was still giving Bernie most of her breakfast. “So how are things really goin’ between you and Ross?”
“I haven’t talked to him since my display of public nudity.”
My friends shared a laugh at my expense. We’d recently gone to dinner with Nana, our former landlord, at her new restaurant in Malibu. Tex and Howie had also come along, and I’d brought Ross Adams as my date. Unfortunately, Tex had brought along his new virtual reality goggles that made everyone at the table appear completely nude, including yours truly and Ross. I wasn’t sure if I would ever live down the humiliation or ever see my date again.
“I’ll betcha Ross is like a dog wantin’ a bone after seeing you at Nana’s dinner party,” Mo said, when she finally controlled her laughter.
“Or maybe he’s more like a guy with a boner,” Natalie said. After she and Mo had another fit of hysterics, she changed the subject. “Me and Mo put Tex to work on findin’ your daddy’s offshore bank account. He’s a wiz with numbers, so he should track it down in a jiff.”
“Like I’ve told you before, if it’s drug money, I don’t want any part of it.”
“You don’t know if it’s drug money,” Mo said, finally finishing up with her wig. “Besides, haven’t you had enough of that life of poverty you been living?”
My divorce from a couple of years earlier, which had left me in financial ruin, came to mind. “My life is a wreck, so what’s the difference?”
Mo looked at Natalie. “I think Kate’s on the verge of the big PP, as in Pity Party.”
Natalie agreed with her and said to me, “You want me to whip up some cocktails, get a bag of junk food?”
I shook my head. “It’s way too early in the day for drinks and carbs.” I released a long breath and dragged a hand through my hair. “But there is something that happened last night I need to tell you both about.” I took a couple minutes, filling them both in on Harlee Ryland showing up at my mother’s house and what she’d said. “It pretty much confirms that Harlan Ryland is my father.”
My friends looked at one another with wide eyes. Natalie spoke first. “If that’s the case, you’re gonna be in line to inherit half of Ryland’s fortune when the old bastard goes tits up. You’re gonna be rich.”
“I don’t want any part of Ryland’s money.”
Mo studied me with one eye in that way she had. She finally said, “I think there’s more to the story.”
I looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“You said that Harlee told you to think of her as family. If her grandfather is your bio-dad, she woulda been more direct about it. You gotta track her and her granddaddy down and get to the truth.”
I stood. “Easier said than done. I’d better be going.”
I took my coffee cup over to the sink. When I turned around, I hadn’t realized they’d both followed me and I nearly bumped into them. My eyes narrowed on them. “What gives?”
“We need your opinion ‘bout something,” Mo said. “Me and baby sis got us a million dollar idea.”
“If things go the way we plan,” Natalie said, “we’ll cut you in as a partner and you won’t need either of your daddies’ dirty money.”
This wasn’t the first time my friends had a get-rich-quick scheme, and I didn’t have the time to hear it. “I’m already running late. Can this wait until tonight?”
They glanced at one another before Mo said, “Okay, but you gotta promise to hear us out when you get home tonight.”
“We’re gonna make a ton of quid,” Natalie said, clapping her hands together. “We’ll probably be able to move out of the Craven house before the Ghost of Lola gets us.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about and I’m not sure I want to know.” I looked at Mo. “Don’t forget to check with the management company about us moving in early. If we can’t move, we’ll be living in a homeless shelter.”
I was headed for my car with Bernie when my phone rang. I saw that the caller was Joe Dawson and decided to walk my dog through a grassy area as I answered. “I hope this is good news.”
“Not unless you consider no news good news, Buttercup,” Joe said.
I’d become friends with Joe over the past year, letting him take liberties with the nickname he’d chosen for me. I’d previously filled him in on everything Harlee Ryland had said to me last night. “You mean there’s no word on Harlee’s whereabouts?”
“It’s just conjecture at this point, but we think she might have slipped out of the country on a private jet, headed back to Brazil.”
“And Pearl, anything?”
He took a moment before responding. “We’ve got agents on the ground, but they’ve come up empty. I’m worried something might have happened to him.”
Pearl was my friend, one of the best detectives I’d ever known. If he’d been harmed or killed while trying to reveal those who had been in league with Harlan Ryland in my adoptive dad’s murder, I wasn’t sure if I could ever get passed it.
“It all sounds pretty hopeless,” I said, releasing all the air from my lungs.
“Something might still break, so don’t give up the ship. I’ve also got the number crunchers still working on that offshore account.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “I’m going to be in your neighborhood later this week. Maybe we could have dinner.”
“That would be nice. Let me know your schedule.”
After ending the call, I continued to walk Bernie, thinking about what he’d said. If Pearl was gone, it meant that I’d probably never know the true story behind my adoptive father’s murder and the possible drug money he’d left behind. I’d be left with more questions than answers, knowing that Harlan Ryland was probably my biological father.
I glanced up at the sky, seeing that rain was beginning to fall—a rare event in Southern California for this time of year. It only darkened my mood. As I walked to my car with Bernie, I realized there were tears in my eyes. They were tears for both the adoptive father I’d never known, and for Pearl.
SEVEN
Lizzy and Haley
Present Day
“What are you thinking about?” Dr. Beverly Tanner asked.
Haley Robinson’s luminescent blue eyes had shifted as she thought about the psychiatrist’s question.
It had been almost twenty years since she was the little girl who had gone swimming off the coast of Newport Beach with her sister on that long-ago fateful day. The wiry, awkward girl had blossomed over the years into a beautiful young woman. Haley’s hair was darker than when she was a child, her lips now full and pouty. But her skin was still mocha, a color that her mother had once said was like chocolate and milk.
Maybe it was the fact that she was passing through the city where her psychiatrist had practiced that caused Haley’s mind to tumble back in time and remember Dr. Tanner’s question. The memory that now invaded her thoughts was a session she’d had with her psychiatrist three years after Lizzy had died. She had been fifteen at the time, a girl on the cusp of womanhood. Haley remembered sitting in Dr. Tanner’s home office and looking out the window into the shrink’s back yard.
“I’m not really thinking about anything,” she had said to the psychiatrist. “I was just admiring the trees and the mountains. They’re beautiful.”
Dr. Tanner’s rambling residence was in the foothills of Pasadena, on a large parcel of land. As always, her mother had dropped her off for the session and had gone shopping.
Haley thought the psychiatrist was probably in her forties. She had blonde hair that was cut short. It had occurred to her that Dr. Tanner was a lesbian, but Haley had no way of knowing for sure. Once she’d thought about mentioning it to her mother, but decided against it. Mother never wanted to talk about her sessions with the psychiatrist, other than to ask her if she was starting to remember what really happened when her sister had been murdered.
“Let’s talk about your sister,” Dr. Tanner said.
Haley blinked several times before her gaze moved back to the psychiatrist. While they had talked about Lizzy a lot after that day on the boat, their sessions had been less frequent over the years, and they hadn’t talked about her twin sister in months.
The psychiatrist continued. “Do you think about her?”
Haley’s mouth was dry as she swallowed. “No.”
“Why is that?”
Haley’s bright blue eyes fixed on Tanner. “She’s...she’s gone. Thinking about her won’t change that.”
Dr. Tanner nodded in that thoughtful way she had that made Haley’s anger spike.
“I know that thinking about her won’t change anything, but...” Dr. Tanner took a breath and lowered her voice in that confidential way she had when she wanted to get a point across. “What happened to your sister...the crime was never solved. Surely that must be something that you think about.”
Haley lied. “Not really. Thinking about it won’t bring my sister back.”
“That’s true, but I think you have a lot of anger about what happened that you don’t talk about.”
Haley continued to stare at the shrink. The anger that she felt earlier now mushroomed. Despite what she was feeling, she kept her voice even. “Really.”
Tanner nodded. “It’s been my experience that if you don’t talk about your feelings, they become more entrenched. And it becomes increasingly difficult to deal with those feelings as you get older.”
Haley suppressed a smile. “Are you speaking from experience?”
Dr. Tanner flinched. “No, I’m...I’m speaking as your doctor. Feelings and thoughts must be expressed. If they aren’t, they fester like an open sore. Sometimes those feelings even make us believe things that aren’t true.”
Haley’s smile blossomed. “Would you like to know what I’m really thinking?”
“Of course.”
“I’m thinking about pulling out the knife that’s hidden in my purse. I’m thinking about holding you down and gutting you. I’m thinking about hearing your screams as you die, just like Lizzy screamed.”
Haley drew in a long breath. The fantasy had grown stronger over the years, but she hadn’t said any of those things she was thinking. Instead, she had simply told the psychiatrist that she missed her sister. As always, she pushed down her thoughts, but now she had another thought—maybe Dr. Tanner had been right. What she was feeling had been like an open sore. And she knew that her anger could only fester for so long before she acted.
Haley’s thoughts completely surfa
ced from that long ago meeting with her psychiatrist. That day had marked a turning point. She realized that she was sick of the lies her mother and the shrink had told her.
In that moment, she had known it was only a matter of time before she avenged Lizzy’s murder.
EIGHT
I got to the station a little before noon and took a seat across from Leo.
“I hope you got more sleep than I did,” I said.
Despite our long night and late start on the day, my partner looked none the worse for wear. “Couple hours.” He regarded me, maybe sensing my mood. “Everything okay?”
Bernie finally settled at my feet after pacing the floor. “Let’s see, I’m being evicted from my home, in a couple days I’ll either be moving into a residence formerly occupied by a serial killer or I’ll be homeless, and Pearl...” I didn’t go on, feeling my emotions surfacing again.
“What about Pearl?” Leo asked, the concern in his voice obvious. He’d been good friends with Pearl and had worked with him years earlier.
I took a couple deep breaths and filled him in on what Joe had said, adding, “He’s gone missing, and Joe’s worried.”
Leo took a moment, probably feeling the impact of what I’d said. “Pearl can take care of himself. Let’s not give up on him.” His voice softened. “And I’m sorry about your living situation. I hope things work out.”
I nodded, looked toward Olivia’s office, where our crime analysts were gathering. “What’s the latest?”
Leo stood. “Olivia wanted to meet when you got in, so let’s go find out. My guess is that Reginald Dunbar will be at the top of today’s list.”
When we got to the conference room that adjoined Olivia’s office, we saw that Darby and Woody were already seated. After Bernie trotted off to a corner for a nap, Jenny Durst, Section One’s new crime analyst, settled at the table across from me. Jenny was in her thirties and attractive, with blonde hair and blue eyes. I’d quickly learned she was not just a pretty face after she’d demonstrated lots of insight and hard work on our last case.