by Maria Walton
“What? Oh. I was lost in thought. Just trying to figure it all out. I don’t get it though. You’re implying that it was Richardson that murdered his wife but what was his motive? Hell, what was Esteban’s motive? You said nothing was fucked up at the house, right?”
“Right. The cops said that Esteban’s motive was sexual. That he wanted to have sex with her. Richardson said he’d seen Esteban leering at his wife before.”
“But you said there was no sign of struggle. If Esteban really wanted her he would have forced himself, or at the very least have touched her somehow, somewhere.”
“Well he had the gloves on.”
“Right. But wouldn’t there have been DNA or something? Some other scraps of his clothing on her.”
“That’s what I think too.”
“What about the dirt? You said the gloves were dirty. Did she have any dirt on her body?”
“No. No dirt on the body. Like I said before there were no signs of struggle.”
“Fuck. I don’t get it,” Vi said. He leaned back in his chair and began to pick at the salmon in front of him. Katie hadn’t touched her duck. She looked away then back at him.
“Well there’s Mr. Richardson still.”
“But what was his motive. You said that a lot of men kill their wives but that doesn’t mean he did it.”
“It didn’t mean he didn’t do it either.”
“But where’s the proof? Where’s the motive? Does he even have any?”
“I found her phone.”
“You found her phone? It wasn’t there at the scene?”
“No.”
“How did you find it?”
“Well after I left the jail I went to the Richardson’s and I waited.”
“Ah a stake out! How exciting. Was it everything like I expected? Like everything I’ve seen in the movies?”
“Yeah and more. I sat in my car for 6 hours. Richardson watched a football game. I could see it through the blinds. He was rooting for the 49ers. Ugh.”
“Not a big fan of San Francisco?”
“The city, it’s okay. A bit overrated. All the techies, all the new money, it’s driving people out.”
“People who own their houses are getting better money though. Their property values go up.”
“Hardly anyone in the bay owns their houses, just rich folk in Berkeley. Most of West Oakland got bought out by REO homes. When all the houses got foreclosed on a few years back they just swept in and bought out all the houses.”
“That’s how capitalism works. If the owners had managed their money better, they wouldn’t have their homes foreclosed on.”
“They were given subprime loans.”
“What?”
“Subprime loans. You didn’t know about this? There was the housing bubble that increased all the prices of all the real estate in the Bay. People took out loans they couldn’t pay for. Houses were foreclosed.”
“So, they were unable to pay for their homes.”
“They were unable to pay them because they’d taken out faulty loans.”
“Maybe they shouldn’t have bought the houses then.”
“Everyone dreams of a house.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Well then how can everyone dream of a house?”
“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”
“We’ve gone this far.”
“I watched him watch the game and then I watched him leave. He got into his car. I followed him. It surprises me how often people are oblivious to being followed. It’s not like in the movies where the driver immediately recognizes that they are being followed. Rather it’s they are oblivious. They don’t pay attention to what others around them are doing.”
“Maybe he’s bad at recognizing cars,” Vi said.
“He’s a cop. They look at cars all day. Fast cars, slow cars, cars that don’t stop for signs, cars that weave and swerve drunkenly, cars that are in accidents.”
“Where did he go?”
“He went to a flea market. The one in East Oakland. It’s not far from my place.”
“You followed him?”
“Of course.”
“What did he do?”
“He pulled out a phone. Then he sold it to one of the stall workers.”
“Melanie’s phone.”
“Yes. His wife Melanie’s phone.”
“Did you get it?”
Haggling at the flea market had taken her a half an hour. The market was large and following Richardson had been annoying. He’d made a bee line for the stall that he sold the phone at but Katie had to mosey her way through the crowd. She didn’t want to be spotted. The stalls sold all sorts of knick-knacks and paraphernalia form keychains to socks to switch blades. When she reached the fence, she knew she’d have to fork over some money. She’d seen the man Richardson had sold the phone to before. Tony had dealt with him, although Katie never had. The two had haggled for 15 minutes. Katie was nearing the end of her nerves and was ready to just steal it when the man finally agreed on five hundred dollars.
“Yes. I paid a pretty penny for it. I had to haggle for a half an hour for it. I paid $500 for it.”
“Did you unlock it? Was it wiped?”
“It wasn’t wiped. Her code was her birthday. It opened up. Having her phone was like having her diary. People’s phones are part of their bodies now. It’s like having their limb, or a piece of their brain.”
“What was on it? Did you find anything out?”
“Yes and no.”
“Yes and no?”
“Yes, I found out that she was going to leave.”
“Where was she going?”
“She’d decided to sell the house. She’d been talking to a realtor. The house was in her name. She had a flight just a few hours before her death to Los Angeles. Her family lives down in Orange County.”
“Did the family know that she was coming to LA?”
The funeral was held in Piedmont at the cemetery at the end of Piedmont Avenue. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Melanie Richardson was dead. Katie had arrived late, although she suspected the viewing had been closed casket, who wants to see a bruised body jaundiced with fruit sized bruises. In the photographs, even Melanie’s face had been damaged. Nothing had escaped Richardson’s wrath. He was all smiles though at the funeral. The widower gave an emotional speech about how Melanie was the first and only real love of his life. The other men in the crowd nodded their heads in silent agreement while Veronica, Melanie’s sole sister shook her head.
Katie went up to her afterwards.
“Hi, I’m looking into your sister’s death. Can I ask you a few things?” Katie asked.
“What is there to ask? It’s obvious. Money, hatred, jealousy all synonyms for one word – Richardson.”
“Had things been rough between the two of them for a while?”
“Rough,” Veronica said with a laugh. “She wanted to sell the house. Melanie was trying to get away from that asshole. They got a good deal on the house. She got a good loan on it. He’d had terrible credit – gambling at the Oak’s Card Club is what she said. Melanie had put the house on the market. Someone had put a bid on it sight unseen – It’s the bay area. She was coming down for a visit the day she died. I warned her about him when they got married but he had white teeth, tanned skin and seemed like he came from good stock. Look what a good breed got her.”
“So, you think he did it?”
“She didn’t even know the Mexican. She couldn’t tell one wetback from another. Excuse me.”
With that, Veronica cut off Katie. Her black uniform merged into the rest of the small crowds. Many in the funeral party were crying. Katie could even see a small tear running down the face of Richardson. He was wearing black slacks, a black shirt and a gold chain. Katie watched the funeral party crowd around the coffin. When the box was lowered into the crowd it was Richardson who put the first pile of dirt on. He was also the first to leave
.
“I went to the funeral. Her brother, her parents they were weeping. Her sister though, all she did was glare. I wasn’t even that close to the party and I could see and feel the intense wave of hatred coming out of her eyes.”
“Staring at Mr. Richardson.”
“Of course.”
“The sister knew. The sister knew everything. The marriage had gone to seed a long time ago. He drank too much. Worked too much. She was unhappy and cut off. He didn’t allow her to leave the house. He read her emails. She constantly had to reset her phone password to keep him from prying.”
“Okay, so there’s the motive now but can you place him there?”
“No but you can.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that she hired a car, an uber to pick her up from her house to bring her to the airport. That uber was you. It was your blue Volkswagon bug. The one that is sitting outside right now. Same license plate and everything. “
Vi didn’t like driving others around, it made him feel like Morgan Freeman in Driving Miss Daisy, except he was Asian instead of black and his voice wasn’t as deep and throaty as Morgan Freeman’s. It was easy money. He didn’t think much of the ride at first. He’d gotten off of work at the shop and afterwards when Mr. Richardson had slid into the back seat still slightly splattered with blood Vi thought it all wasn’t happening. Life was sliding by him. It wasn’t something that he had control over.
“Take me to the warehouse,” Richardson had said.
“Uh not to the airport?”
“No. Not to the fucking airport. Take me to the fucking bar.”
“Okay, okay.”
“You see anything?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it might be worth your while not to have seen anything,” Richardson said. He took out his wallet and started to pass Vi cash. “We’ll stop at the bank as well.” And they did. Richardson took out several thousand dollars, more money than Vi would make working a month driving or working the mechanic job.
“Ummm… how do you know that,” Vi said to Katie.
“The receipt was on the phone and your car showed up in the surveillance footage from the bar,” Katie replied.
“That’s interesting.”
“What’s interesting is that you ended up giving Mr. Richardson a ride to the bar. What’s interesting is the repeated phone calls to Mrs. Richardson’s number from your cell. What’s interesting is finding out how much Mr. Richardson paid you off.”
“I’m not guilty,” Vi shifted his eyes away from Katie. He didn’t like how intently she was staring at him.
“I’m not accusing you of a crime that hasn’t been done before. You know where Esteban was? Why he didn’t have an alibi? It was easy to find out. I just got a hold of his phone. Anita hadn’t even thought to look at it. He’d had a mistress. A woman that sells horchata in the neighborhood. Anita knew her. I knew her. Everyone knew her, not everyone knew about their affair. Esteban was willing to go to prison to keep Anita from finding out. He was guilty of cheating but innocent of murder.”
“So….”
“So, you’re like Esteban, guilty of one crime while innocent of another.”
“I saw him. I walked up to the door. I could hear him beating her body. I could see it through the curtains. He raised the bag of oranges and brought it swinging down on her. She just laid there. Not even begging. Not crying. “
Vi’s father was a drunk. He liked to gamble with his uncles. When he lost though he took out his problems on his mother. She didn’t raise her voice at her husband. It wasn’t her place. Vi didn’t either. He would watch his mother get smacked by his father when his father had too many drinks, when his father had lost too much money.
His father had stopped raising a hand to Vi when Vi was the same size as his father. The son’s eyes had hardened against his father and Vi had left the house early, much earlier than most other Asians. His sister though, she stayed. He tried to get her to leave but she stayed. He didn’t know why. It was painful for him. Vivian, his sister, would have the same bruises as his mother. He asked her why she didn’t leave home. She wasn’t a baby and she wasn’t married to their father. “It’s my duty as a daughter,” she said to Vi. “And it’s your duty as the oldest son to take care of the family.” He didn’t like being reminded of his duty. He didn’t like being reminded of his responsibility to his sister and mother who were constantly being beaten by a despot of a father.
“I’m trying too, and that’s why I think you should leave,” Vi would tell her over and over. She stayed though. When Vi watched Richardson he thought of his father. He thought of his mother. He realized why his sister just stayed and watched like she was caught in some perverse bystander effect.
The drive in the car had been in silence once the money had been exchanged. A dead weight hung on Richardson and Vi after the money negotiations were done. Before he got out of the car, Vi gave the white man some napkins to clean up with. Richardson dabbed at the blood on his face and cleaned himself off.
“Mrs. Richardson was so broken. Mr. Richardson, he saw me looking and he came rushing out of the house. He demanded a ride and an alibi. He threatened me. He said that there was money in it for me, that if I talked that the entire police force would go after me.” Vi had begun to sweat. Droplets of water had formed on his forehead and slowly ran down his face like the legs of alcohol in their wine.
“He’s not wrong there. The entire force would be riding your ass for sure. You’re not one of them.”
“So, what do you propose we do?”
“The cops, the city, they’ll never prosecute one of their own. Richardson will never see a jail cell. What we need to do is get Esteban off. That’s what I was hired to do. That’s all I care about.”
“How do we do that?”
“One lie to replace another,” Katie said matter of factly. She poured herself another glass of wine and took a sip. Her lips reddened.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you will testify that you gave Esteban a ride from one workplace to another. That he didn’t have gloves with him. You’ll give him an alibi.”
“But there are records. There is a paper trail,” Vi said pointing at the table. He took out his phone and pointed at it as well. “There were calls made. Money was taken out. It won’t take much searching to figure out that everything is a cover.”
“Yes and Mr. Richardson and everyone else knows that if they look into it, it will just point back at the cops. They won’t want to do that. It will be bad press. The Oakland Police Department already has enough woes and worries,” Katie rebutted.
“You think that Richardson will go along with this?”
“He has to.”
“But if I flip it just means that I’m not a credible witness.”
“You are not, but the paper trail will say otherwise.”
“Did you know this all the time? When we met…”
“Yes.”
“How could you? Why would you? You’re blackmailing me.” Vi’s voice was pitched high with tension.
“I’m rectifying things.” Katie’s was voice was level, and consistent. It was as if none of this bothered her at all.
“Why did you sleep with me if you knew,” Vi was confused. It showed on his face. He didn’t know who he was talking to. He didn’t understand her motives. Why was she here with him?
“I wanted to see. I wanted to understand what you were thinking about. I guess it’s like the scientist for the Stanford Prison Experiment. I wanted to know what you were thinking. How you were feeling.”
“I’m not thinking about anything. I’m just thinking about survival,” Vi said.
Vi didn’t mention the mounting bills from his father’s actions. The cost to care for his sister and his mother had gone up. His father had quit working but demanded the same household luxuries. He also demanded that Vi’s mother didn’t work, she needed to stay home and take care of him, Vi’s
father had said. Vi didn’t mention anything about the pressure of his family -the way in which the tainted money might alleviate some of the suffering of his family. “I just needed the money.”
“Which is why this is the best option. You can call the cop shop from here. Would you like the number?”
“You said he wasn’t at the bar. You lied. I brought him there. You must have seen him later in the tapes.”
“I lied.”
“What makes us any different? What makes what you did different from me?” There was an anger to Vi’s voice. It was the same accusatory tone he used with his mother and sister when he demanded that they leave the house for good.
“I didn’t supply a murderer with an alibi,” Katie replied calmly.
“That’s just a matter of degrees. Esteban lied, Richardson lied, you lied, I lied, even Mrs. Richardson lied to her husband about what was going on.”
“Life isn’t really a game of truth is it,” Katie said. She swirled around the wine in her glass. The liquid was thin and red waterfalls coated the glass.
“Did you even want me? Or was that part of finding out about Richardson,” Vi asked.
“I did and it so happened that you were wrapped up with Richardson.”
“Which came first? Anyways, you don’t know anything about what’s going on with me. I had bills to pay. This was a good opportunity for me. I hope to God you didn’t fuck it up. I don’t want to have to work my entire goddamn life. I don’t want to have to foot other people’s bills. I don’t want to handle other people’s fucking responsibilities.”
Vi waved down the waiter and paid the bill. His wallet was full of one hundred dollar bills. Katie raised her eyebrows when he set down two bills onto the table. Vi flushed with shame and then got up. His eyes showed his inner conflict. They looked everywhere but at her. It seemed as though if he looked at Katie again he would break.
“It doesn’t repulse you?” he said standing above the dinner table. Their half-eaten food was getting cold. The wine was gone and both of their lips were stained with red. Katie could see a tinge of purple on Vi’s tongue when he spoke.
“We’re all criminals Vi. Some of us just commit larger crimes,” Katie said as Vi walked away.