They walked across the parking lot and around the corner until they found another entrance on a side street.
“What about the security cameras?” Rory nodded toward one pointed toward the metal gate.
“Scarecrow was busy watching something on his phone when we walked in. I bet he doesn’t even glance at them. If we look like we belong here, he won’t even notice.”
Rory typed the code in the keypad and the gate slid open. They quickly slipped through, walking as fast as they could to the nearest row of units, and followed the signs until they were standing in front of a two-story building.
Liz pointed at the range of unit numbers painted on its side. “Looks like it’s on the second floor.”
They walked up the stairs and searched each hallway, checking the number written on the wall above each unit until they found the correct one.
“Here goes.” Rory slipped the key in the padlock and twisted it open. She handed the lock to Liz and pulled up on the metal roll-up door.
They studied the five foot by five foot space, about the size of a small walk-in closet, three-quarters full of cardboard boxes, piled two high in some places. Rory tilted her head to read the writing on the sides of each neatly labeled box: kitchen, bedroom, living room, books.
“He must have put everything in storage when he no longer had a place to live,” Liz said.
Rory spotted an antique table leaning against the back wall. “Not much furniture. Probably sold as much as he could. We’re looking for paper, photo albums, anything that might tell us his name or lead us to a relative. You take the right side. I’ll take the left.”
Dividing the space down the middle, the two set to work. They started with the boxes on top. When they didn’t find anything of interest, they put them out in the hallway to get to the ones underneath.
“I’ve got pictures and some photo albums,” Liz said.
Rory abandoned the box she had just opened and went over to stand by her friend.
“Here’s a wedding album.” Liz took a white eleven-by-fourteen album out of the box and held it in her hands so Rory could look at it with her. Embossed on the front was a date and the names Zoe and Christopher.
Rory pointed to the names. “Zoe. That’s the name on the photo Kit had.”
“And Kit could be short for Christopher. No last name though.”
They flipped through the album, looking at photo after photo of the smiling couple. Formal shots were mixed with more candid ones of guests at the reception.
“Looks like a nice wedding,” Liz said. “I don’t recognize anyone. Do you?”
“Not a single person. And the reception could be at any ballroom in any hotel anywhere.”
“They look so happy. I wonder what happened to her,” Liz said as she put away the album.
“Maybe one of these other boxes will give us some answers.”
After going through every box, they still hadn’t found any papers or items that might give them a last name. They were returning the ones they’d put out in the hallway to the storage unit when Rory’s foot bumped into the table. It tilted forward, revealing a small box behind it.
“Eureka!” she said when she opened it. “We’ve found the mother lode. File folders filled with papers.” She was about to open a promising folder labeled “Insurance” when they heard voices.
“That sounds like Scarecrow,” Liz said. “I think he’s coming this way.”
“Help me get the rest of these boxes inside. We can take this with us and look through it later.”
They shoved the boxes that were out in the hallway inside the unit and rolled down the door. Rory was reattaching the padlock when they heard footsteps coming toward them.
They ran on tiptoe to the end of the hallway and peeked around the corner. Scarecrow led another man down an adjoining hallway. As soon as the two men had their backs toward them, Rory and Liz ran as quietly as possible toward the exit, racing down the stairs and across the pavement to the metal gate where Rory entered the exit code and impatiently waited for the gate to slide open. Walking as fast as they could, the two headed up the street toward the safety of their car.
“Whew!” Rory said when they were pulling out of the lot. “Let’s head to my place and go through the box there.”
The smell of baking cookies greeted them when they got back to the house. Rory took the contents of the box and spread it out on the coffee table in the living room, dividing the folders into three neat piles.
When Teresa brought in a plate of chocolate chip cookies, Liz crossed her index fingers, creating an X, and held them out in front of her. “No more cookies. I’ll have to jog from here to Malibu and back to get the extra weight off.”
Rory picked one up and waved it in front of her friend. “Such chocolaty goodness. How can you refuse? Me want cookie! Me want cookie!”
“That is the worst Cookie Monster imitation I’ve ever heard. It’s not fair. You’re a lot taller than I am. You get to eat more.” After a moment of indecision, Liz gave up, grabbed a cookie and munched on it as Rory assigned each of them a stack.
“What are we looking for?” Teresa picked up her pile of folders.
“Anything that will give us Kit’s last name or that talks about relatives. He mentioned someone named Zoe once. We now know that’s his wife, so look out for anything to do with her.”
They munched on cookies as they worked, opening folder after folder.
In the last folder in her pile, Rory found a single piece of paper. “I know what happened to Zoe,” she said. “She died. I’ve got her death certificate here.”
Liz looked up from her work. “Really? That’s sad.”
“At least we know Kit’s full name now. He’s listed as next of kin on the death certificate. Christopher Laughlin.”
“What did she die of?” Teresa asked.
“Cancer. A year ago.”
“That seems to go with these bills I found from a hospital in Santa Barbara.” Liz passed a piece of paper over to Rory. “Looks like they went to collections.”
She looked at the dollar amount on the bill. “Wow. That’s a lot of money. I wonder if that’s why he’s homeless.”
“I’ve heard of people losing everything after a major medical issue. That would fit,” Teresa said.
“Well, we know we can’t find Zoe. I haven’t found anyone else who might be a relative. What about either of you?”
Teresa held up a greeting card. “Here’s a name. Angel Portrero. Probably a relative or a friend.”
“Portrero’s a Hispanic name, isn’t it? Might be a man. Angel’s a pretty common male name in Spanish-speaking countries,” Liz said.
“Man, woman. Whichever they are, maybe they’ll know of some relatives. It’s an unusual enough name. Let’s see what we can find out.”
Rory headed to her work area where she typed “Angel Portrero” and “Santa Barbara” into a browser. She thought she had struck pay dirt when she found a phone number online, but when she called it a gruff-voiced man answered and denied knowing anyone by that name before hanging up.
“You would think this Angel would have left more of a digital footprint,” Rory said. “I’ve tried various social media sites and Google, but haven’t found anything.”
“We don’t know how old he or she is. Could be older and not really into going online,” Liz said.
“I’m sure if I had access to other databases I could find something.”
“You know who might be able to help—Candy.”
“Of course,” Rory said.
“Who’s that?” Teresa asked.
“She’s a private investigator we met a while ago. She was working for this other PI while she was studying for her own license,” Rory said.
“She probably has access to all sorts of information. She has her own license now. I�
��ve sent lots of work her way. She owes me a favor,” Liz said.
“Call her,” Rory said. “See if she’s willing to help.”
Liz dug around in her purse and pulled out her cell phone. After she hung up with Candy, she said, “She’s on a case, but she’ll talk to us. Let’s go.”
Teresa looked at the other two women. “What should I do?”
“Look through everything again and see if we missed anything.” Rory grabbed the death certificate and followed Liz out the door.
Chapter 26
Rory and Liz approached the black SUV parked on a street across from the Akaw hotel. A woman with lavender hair styled in a bubble cut sat behind the wheel, a camera with a zoom lens in her hand, her gaze fixed on the hotel entrance. Liz knocked on the passenger window. Candy glanced over and motioned to indicate they should get in the backseat before returning to her surveillance.
Liz had barely closed the door when the private investigator said, “Got you, you pig.” She raised her camera and took several shots of a man and a woman kissing in front of the hotel.
“Duck!” Candy motioned with her hand for them to scrunch down in the backseat. They made themselves as small as possible, only sitting up again when the PI declared the coast to be clear.
The woman put the camera on the seat beside her and turned to face them. “Divorce case. Or it will be soon anyway. What can I do for you ladies?”
“We’re looking for some information on these two people.” Rory handed over a printout of the photo she had on her phone. “Their names are Zoe and Christopher Laughlin.”
Candy studied the photo. “Cute couple. What have you got on them so far?”
Rory handed over Zoe’s death certificate and a piece of paper with everything they had learned about the two of them. “Christopher had been homeless for a while. Everyone called him Kit. He passed away recently, and we’re trying to find his next of kin. We haven’t had much luck so far so we were hoping you could help.”
“Happy to do what I can. People should know when loved ones die. What else?”
“We think someone named Angel Portrero might be able to help. He, or she, knows them, but we’re not sure if they’re related or just a friend,” Liz said. “We don’t even know if Angel is a man’s or a woman’s name.”
Candy nodded. “Angel Portrero. Got it. I’ll see what I can do.”
“You can call either one of us when you find something,” Liz said.
When they returned to the house, they found Teresa still in the living room sifting through the folders. She looked up from the stack she had on her lap. “I’ve looked through most of these again, but haven’t found anything new. What about you two? What did the PI say?”
“Candy’s looking into that Angel person and searching for next of kin. She’ll let us know if she finds anything,” Liz said.
“Now that we have Kit’s full name, we should call the coroner’s office and tell them what we know. They might be able to find his relatives.” Rory sat down in front of her computer and pointed her browser at the county website. A few keystrokes later, she found Kit’s case in the unidentified persons section. “I’ll call them right now.”
“We’ll start getting donations for a funeral in case we can’t find any relatives.” Liz settled down onto the sofa in the adjoining living room to make her own calls while Teresa went into the kitchen to make tea.
After giving the woman on the other end of the phone line the case number, Rory waited while the coroner’s office representative checked the records.
A few tap tap taps of the keyboard later, the woman repeated the string of digits Rory had given her. “That’s the case number you’re interested in, right?”
“That’s right.”
“We have his name on file already. Haven’t had a chance to update the website yet. The body’s been released to the next of kin.”
“Who?”
“His brother-in-law.”
Brother-in-law? Rory sat up straighter in her desk chair. “Do you have a name?”
“Let’s see.” A few more taps on the keyboard and the woman had the answer. “Interesting name. Tripp. Tripp Keating.”
Rory stared at her phone in disbelief. “Did you say Tripp Keating? You’re sure?”
“That’s what it says here. He made the arrangements earlier today, and the mortuary already picked up the body. Is there a problem?”
“No, no,” Rory said. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t realize he was taking care of it. Thanks for your time.”
Puzzled by what she’d learned, Rory hung up the phone and stared off into space for a moment before she walked into the living room where Liz and Teresa sat side by side on the sofa, sipping tea and talking about starting a GoFundMe page. The two looked up from their notes.
“What’s wrong?” Liz said.
Rory settled down into the chair next to the sofa. “We may not need to raise any money after all. Someone already claimed the body.”
“Who?” Teresa asked.
“Tripp.”
“Our Tripp? Why would he do that?” Liz said.
“Apparently, they’re related. He’s Kit’s brother-in-law.”
“And he never told you?” Liz stared in bewilderment at her friend.
“He never said a word to me. He insisted he barely knew him.” Rory thought back to the time in the hospital when she had found Tripp reading to the unconscious man. “I did get the feeling he cared about him though, more than you would expect from an acquaintance. I wonder why he lied to me.”
“Maybe he didn’t,” Liz said.
Rory stared at her friend. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe he lied to the coroner’s office, said he was Kit’s bro-in-law. He wasn’t in any of the wedding pictures we saw. Wouldn’t he have been if Zoe was his sister?”
“But why would he lie to them?”
“He might have been afraid they wouldn’t release the body to him otherwise.”
“That would explain it,” Teresa said.
“I’m not buying it. I think they require proof of the relationship before releasing the body.”
“You’re not going to find out the truth talking to us.” Liz pointed toward the front door. “Go, talk to him. Ask him about it. There’ll be a nice dinner waiting for you when you get back.”
Rory thought about calling Tripp but decided this was a discussion they should have in person. She wanted to see his face when she asked him why he’d lied. She headed to the church where he was currently living to see if he was there. She found him in the sanctuary with Reverend Paulson. As she walked toward them, she heard the words “service” and “eulogy.”
“We were just talking about you,” the minister said when she was within earshot.
“Oh?”
“We’re planning Kit’s funeral. We were wondering if you would say a few words,” Tripp said.
“I’ll speak if you want. What about relatives?” she asked, giving him a chance to come clean.
“I wish we had better news. We haven’t found anyone yet,” Reverend Paulson said.
Curious. Tripp hadn’t even told the minister about his relationship with Kit.
“Why don’t the two of you discuss the details? I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
As soon as the minister left, Tripp turned to her. “What’s wrong? You seem a little on edge.”
“You tell me.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“I called the coroner’s office to see about Kit’s burial.”
A mixture of concern and confusion shown in his eyes. “But I already made the arrangements.”
“I didn’t know that then. They told me his brother-in-law had claimed the body.”
“Oh.” Tripp sat down heavily onto a wooden pew and placed the pad of paper
he was holding on the seat beside him. Rory sank down on the pew behind him.
“Why didn’t you tell me you two were related? You acted like you barely knew him,” she said in a soft voice. “Or did you just make that up so they would release the body to you?”
He stared down at his hands before twisting around in his seat to look at her. He put his arm on the back of the pew and looked her squarely in the face. “When I saw Kit, I didn’t realize it was him until he told me. He’d grown a beard and lost some weight. We only met a few times.”
“But he was married to your sister.”
“Zoe and I lost touch years ago. I got a little overprotective, thought she was too young to get married. When I told her that, she told me to mind my own business. After that, she didn’t want anything to do with me. Wouldn’t answer my letters or take my calls. I was out of the country when they got married. She never told me. I had to hear about it from a friend.”
That explained why he wasn’t in any of the wedding photos, Rory thought. “That must have been hard.”
“It was. We’d been so close growing up. I left her alone, hoping she would come around some day, but she never did. Not until it was too late, anyway. Zoe…passed away a while back. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, not wanting to tell him she already knew.
“I was her big brother. I was supposed to take care of her.”
Rory briefly laid a hand on his arm. “It’s not your fault she got cancer.”
“I know, but I didn’t even know she was sick. I was out of the country, working with Doctors Without Borders. By the time I returned to the States and found out, she was…gone.”
“How did you find out?”
“She wrote me a letter. Sent it to the last address she had for me. It eventually made its way to a friend who gave it to me when I got back in the country. She wanted to mend fences, but by the time I got the letter, it was too late. I looked for Kit, but he’d moved away. I figured I would never find him. I had no idea he was in Vista Beach when I came here.”
“When you realized who Kit was, why did you leave him on the streets?”
A Palette for Murder Page 20