“Not so perfect.” Sophia’s voice carried an enthusiasm known to Max—it stemmed from digging for dirt and finding it. She continued, “Clara’s father had a tough time making a match—even with his money. Clara was evidently no beauty and rather frail. Regardless, James Summerfield asked for her hand in marriage to fill his coffers. Clara wanted the marriage, as James was handsome and younger than her father’s pick, but Clara’s father turned him down and married her off to the older man with money, land, and status.”
Sophia caught her breath. “Clara’s husband had a reputation as a mean drunk. He became sick, chronically so.”
“That’s interesting.”
“A couple of years later, he died. No children were born. The property, including Clara’s dowry, went to the dead man’s brother, who sent Clara back to her father’s house with nothing but her clothes. James Summerfield asked again, and this time, Clara’s father accepted. By the time they married, Clara was mid-thirties and James nearly a decade younger. James Jr., their first son and Mercy’s brother, was born soon after they married, in 1862, but Clara had trouble conceiving after that. She gave birth to Mercy nine years later. The pregnancy nearly cost her her life.”
Max added, “Good job! Anything else?”
“Nothing other than James Jr. seemed like an upright lad. Hard-working from all accounts, and he doted on his sister. Their father was stern. Their mother, like I said, frail and distant.”
“Thanks, Sophia. I appreciate your help.”
“No problem. Librarians—like cops—have bloodhound noses and love to sniff out the scent of a trail. It gets our blood boiling.”
“I know what you mean.” Max laughed. “Now it’s our turn to follow the scent of the trail. Talk to you later.”
Joy, Max, and Steele crept from hedge to hedge and tree to tree, ever vigilant and peering through their infrared binoculars. The graveyard basked in the light of a nearly full moon, but dressed in black, they formed shadows that blended with other shadows and disguised them well.
They reached the steps of Mercy’s tomb, where they could sit below ground level and use infrared binoculars to keep watch on the Tranquil Heart. They had no idea where Bear would be, but they took turns scouting the perimeter and other sections of the graveyard.
The first hour passed easily, the second less so, and into their third, Max grew restless.
Steele stretched. He had a muscular build, a scrappy nature, long brown chestnut hair in a ponytail, a mustache, and a day’s worth of stubble.
“Refill?” Joy whispered.
Max and Steele set down their cups, and Joy refilled them with hot, potent liquid from a thermos.
“Good coffee, babe,” said Steele.
Max whined, “You can’t call her ‘babe’ on a stakeout.”
“Thanks, babe.” Joy taunted Max.
Max opened a bag to offer them donut holes. “A hole.”
“Excuse me,” said Joy. “Did you just call me—”
Before she finished, Max grinned in the dark. “A donut hole?”
“Right? That’s what you meant—my butt.” Steele reached in and grabbed a few. “Good one.”
Joy passed.
Steele popped one in his mouth. “Man, these are good. Habit forming.”
“Glazed puffs of doughy-heaven,” Max whispered back. “A sugar-coated cloud that melts in your mouth.”
Steele had brought a bag of homemade venison jerky. He opened it and offered it to Joy and Max. “Jerky, babe?”
Max grabbed a piece. “Thanks, babe.”
Joy let out a giggle. She grabbed a piece too.
Max gnawed into the meat and chewed.
Max’s whisper rose in volume. “Oh, man! Who would have thought jerky and donut holes were the perfect food combination?”
“Shhhh,” reprimanded Joy. “This is a stakeout. Not a food festival.”
“Movement. Twelve o’clock,” whispered Steele, peering through his binoculars.
Joy and Max grabbed their binoculars. A large figure set down a box and started digging.
“He’s closest to the break in the north hedge. I’ll sneak around the hedge on the right,” whispered Joy.
“We’ll flank the left,” whispered Max. “We’ll meet up at the break.”
Max led the way. He and Steele ducked down as they skirted outside the hedge. The moon cast enough light that they did not need the binoculars.
Max’s senses sharpened. He smelled grass and dirt. Something about being on the hunt had opened his nostrils to smells, his ears to sounds. His heart beat faster.
Max, Steele, and Joy reached the break in the northern hedge simultaneously.
Steele lay on his belly and peered through his infrared binoculars. Not twenty paces in front of him, Bear dug before a headstone.
Max whispered, “Go time.”
Steele jumped to his feet.
The trio marched between the hedges with Joy in the middle. They flipped on their flashlights and strode forward like storm-troopers with light sabers.
Bear peered up and squinted. He threw his hands up over his eyes, temporarily blinded, but he didn’t move.
Flashlight beams roamed in an eerie examination. Inside the box lay a dead cat and a gray bird with white around its eyes and red tail feathers.
Max turned off his flashlight. “Drop the shovel, Bear.”
Steele and Joy turned off their flashlights too.
Bear recognized them.
Joy asked, “Care to explain what you’re doing digging in the graveyard at midnight?”
Bear threw down the shovel. It hit the ground with a thud. “This is Mrs. Willoughby.” Bear pointed to a grave marker. “And that’s Hermione, her African Grey Parrot. Mrs. Willoughby was the last person buried here before this cemetery was abandoned a couple of decades ago. Mrs. Willoughby wanted Hermione buried with her. The bird just passed. My people believe that animals, like people, have spirits. But few cemeteries allow animals and humans to rest together at death. And this cemetery is abandoned anyway.”
Joy asked, “And the cat?”
Bear sighed and frowned. “Jingles belongs to a client in the new cemetery. I’m heading there next.”
Steele asked, “This is a side business?”
“No,” said Bear. “I take no money. I offer to bury the animal with its caretaker. I did this as a favor to a family three years ago at the new cemetery, and word-of-mouth has gotten around. I inter small animals—larger animals must be cremated. I prefer to inter ashes, but who’s going to spend money to cremate a hamster? Besides, if it’s ashes, that’s easy to sneak in and sprinkle on your own wherever you want—which is what I recommend to people.”
Max scratched his head. “But it’s illegal?”
Bear answered, “Many states have legalized ‘whole-family cemeteries,’ but not California. Not yet.”
Joy let out a sympathetic sigh. “Look guys, I don’t know about you, but if Bear finishes this last job, and he takes a hiatus until the law changes, I’m for calling it a night.”
“I can live with that,” said Steele.
“Me too,” Max added. “I like the spirit of what you’re doing, but don’t do it again. If you’re caught, you’ll be the one who pays the price.”
Bear nodded. “I understand. I appreciate your kindness.”
Max, Joy, and Steele walked back to the crypt and grabbed their gear.
As they strolled to the car, Joy said, “I’d want Monty to be buried with me. I’m totally looking into it. Maybe I’ll even start a petition.” She glanced at Steele. “You okay with cuddling up to me and Monty?”
“I like the sound of that,” said Steele.
“I don’t need Ayahuasca,” sneered Max. “You two are going to make me puke.”
14
The following morning, Max and Joy lined up their day over coffee. Max sucked in the delightfully bitter scent, all he could do to enjoy it until the brew cooled down. Even the steam rising from his mug mysti
cally drew him in with promises of pep and savory joy. He opened the white bakery bag and pulled out a crumble donut. He’d polished off the last of the donut holes on the way home last night. He bit into the cake, relishing the taste of the sweet sugar and cinnamon crumbles that rolled around in his mouth.
Joy sipped her black coffee and watched him. “You do enjoy your food, Max.”
Max grinned. “I do.” He sipped his coffee, still too hot, but the small taste produced a new blend of flavors that satisfied him deep down.
“You eat to live. You don’t live to eat. Ever hear that one?” asked Joy.
“Sure. I’m just selectively dyslexic and prefer—I live to eat and eat to live.” Max shoved the last bite of crumble donut in his mouth. He chewed and washed it down with coffee, like a kid relishing his first Oreo cookie, taking it apart and savoring each nibble and speck of cream, bit by bit, until the last crumb disappeared.
Max had no sooner swallowed than his phone rang. “Detective King.” Max paused to listen. “Sure, we’ll be right there.” Max hung up. “Gunner wants to see us.”
Gunner lived in an apartment complex at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac. Max parked his car in the nearest guest lot, and he and Joy strolled along a curvy sidewalk between several white two-story buildings. A few chirping birds, the verdant grass, and blooming flowerbeds created a peaceful, meandering stroll. A lone tree stood in the courtyard outside Gunner’s end-unit, ground-floor apartment.
Gunner had found a serene space in which to heal.
Max knocked on the door.
Gunner opened it. “Thanks for coming. Come in. Any news on Jared?”
“Not yet. How are you doing?” Max stepped inside, followed by Joy.
The apartment was entirely military—functional and minimalistic. No pictures graced the walls. No pillows or knickknacks adorned the beige sofa or wooden coffee tables. From the stubble on his chin, Max knew Gunner hadn’t shaved since Jared’s death three and a half days ago.
Gunner ran a hand over his short hair. “One day at a time.” He sat on the sofa. He wore cut off sweat pants and a U.S. Army T-shirt.
Joy sat in an armchair. “We heard that Val took an interest in Jared. Stared at him during the Ayahuasca and Mabon ceremonies.”
“As a matter of fact, I noticed that too. At the Ayahuasca ceremony, everyone got there on time except for Alizon. Jared and I stepped outside. Val joined us. It was weird. I mean, girls stare at Jared. That’s nothing new. But she could not take her eyes off of him. She tried to smile, but it seemed forced. Before we drank the brew, I asked him, ‘What’s up with her?’ He laughed it off and asked if I was jealous. Typical Jared. But the next morning, he called me. Real scared and upset. He asked if he could come by, said he needed to talk. I made us some anxiety tea. But by the time he got here, he said he’d smoothed the waters and everything was fine—more than fine, he said. He promised he’d tell me the whole story after the Mabon ceremony. Everything. No secrets anymore.”
Max asked, “Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”
Gunner expelled a lungful of air that sounded like air escaping from a tire. “I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t when you came to see me in the hospital. I needed time. One thing is for sure—Jared was scared. I know that look.”
“You think he was scared of Val?” asked Joy.
“I don’t know, but I just remember the way she looked at him at the Ayahuasca ceremony. It wasn’t a look of love.”
“Thanks for calling us. You did the right thing.” Max rose to his feet. “Gunner, I didn’t serve. But I’m appreciative that you did.” Max extended a hand and shook Gunner’s.
Gunner rose and shook Max’s hand too. “You serve every day, Detective King, Dr. Burton.”
Max nodded. “Be strong.”
Gunner let one side of his mouth turn up in a half smile. “A funny thing about me is that when I’m at my lowest, something inside me keeps on fighting. Sometimes, I wish it would surrender, but it hasn’t yet.”
“I think that something is called friends,” said Joy. “Even if they’ve passed and you’re still here, Brandon and Jared kept you well, safe, and happy. My father isn’t here anymore, but he keeps me going.”
“Same here,” said Max. “Dad’s ghost would kick my butt into tomorrow if I even thought about giving up.”
Back at the station, Joy punched the buttons on her keyboard. Valerie Valdez had told the truth. She’d lived in San Jose prior to arriving in Vinoville. “Max, Valerie Valdez had a sister. Haley Valdez. Deceased.”
“How did she die?”
“Accidental shooting.” Joy tapped more keys. “She was a magician. Haley the Hypnotic.” Joy stopped typing and read the screen. “Haley’s most famous trick was the ‘bullet catch,’ where her assistant fired a rifle at her, and she caught the bullet in her mouth. The rifle had two chambers—one fired a real bullet, which was used in the demonstration; a hidden chamber just underneath the barrel fired a blank the second time around. But the weapon malfunctioned.”
“Was the assistant charged?”
“No. He was deemed innocent. In the act, Haley referred to her husband as ‘Jared the Judge.’ Max—look at the picture.” Joy swiveled her computer around.
“He’s younger, but that’s Jared.”
Max added, “Valerie had a strong motive to kill Jared. Revenge for her sister’s death. A lie of omission is still a lie.”
“Sometimes, it’s the biggest lie of all.”
Max punched his fingers into his keyboard. “Val owns a gun. Let’s go pay her a visit.”
Max and Joy met Valerie at her rented condo. Although she’d just moved to town, the posh white walls, black framed posters of magic shows, vaulted ceilings, granite fireplace, and posh, white acrylic furnishings gave the house a lived-in appearance.
Joy commented, “For someone who just moved here less than a month ago, this has the markings of a professional decorator.”
“Thank you,” said Valerie. “I am a decorator.”
Max sat on the white sofa, uncomfortably conscious of the soil-free fabric, and immediately withdrew his notebook and pen from his pocket. For once, he appreciated his hacienda—and his father’s red plaid sofa and chairs, the wagon-wheel coffee table, and the dark furnishings that could be plopped on, stretched out upon, and lived on. “You didn’t tell us that you knew Jared from before.” Max used a tone meant to chastise her for not coming forth earlier.
Valerie, dressed in a floral cotton maxi-dress, crossed one leg over the other. “I was afraid. I knew it would make me look suspicious.”
Joy got to the point. “Jared killed your sister.”
“It was an accident.” While Valerie used those words, her tone scraped against them.
“What happened?” asked Max.
“Mother married a magician, Sully the Sorcerer. He had a daughter, Haley, who worked as his assistant. We’re seven years apart, but no one could have been a better sister. We called ourselves ‘Hal the Hypnotic’ and ‘Val the Invincible.’ During a daring and dumb publicity stunt to revive his flagging career, Dad attempted to revive Houdini’s underwater escape trick in a river. He preached, ‘The bigger the trick—the better the magician.’”
Val leaned back into the sofa. “Mom, Hal, and I watched our dead father being dragged out of the river on the end of a crane, like a limp fish on a metal rod.” Valerie paused as she remembered it. “Mom fell to pieces. Val started her own act a few years later. I just kept going. Hal auditioned for assistants. Jared came in, and she hired him. They fell in love and married. Five years later, the bullet-catch trick went awry, and Jared killed Hal on stage at a performance in Austin, Texas.”
Joy pried, “What are you leaving out—I know there’s more.”
Valerie’s hazel eyes met Joy’s. “Hal was pregnant. Jared never wanted children. He was going to leave Hal.”
Max pushed her. “You don’t buy that her death was an accident?”
“I did at fir
st, but Mother passed away last year. I found a shoebox in her closet. It contained a letter from Haley explaining that she’d altered the firing mechanism. She asked Mother and me for forgiveness.”
“I’m sorry,” said Joy.
Val continued, “I believe my sister manipulated the gun so that Jared would take her life. Physically kill her like he had killed her spirit. She wrote, ‘I’ve made my life through misdirection and illusion—but Jared is the best magician of all.’” Valerie’s cold eyes stared blankly ahead. “I’ll tell you what I’m leaving out—I came here to kill Jared. I watched him at the Ayahuasca ceremony. He showed such compassion for Gunner. Such kindness for Gregor and for me. But none of that mattered. He’d cut Haley off.”
Max asked, “You own a gun.”
Val nodded. “I figured that if I kept quiet, I’d have a chance to kill Jared during the Ayahuasca ceremony. I had my chance when Alizon used the bathroom, and Gregor stepped into the kitchen to fetch some tea. I pulled the gun out of my backpack and aimed it at Jared. But he was out of it! It wouldn’t be fair. The next morning, I went to see him.”
Val drifted off in a strange waking trance—as if reliving a specific moment in time that she dragged out of the recesses of her mind.
Val rapped her knuckles against Jared and Ruby’s white door.
Jared opened it and welcomed her inside.
Val stepped into the green-and-white living room and sat down on the sofa. She set her backpack between her legs and unzipped the top. “Where is everybody?”
“Out for a walk, but they’ll be back soon.” Jared sat in an armchair. “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Tea? Are you excited for the Mabon ceremony?”
Val reached into her backpack and withdrew her gun. She pointed it at Jared’s chest. “I’m excited to kill you. Do you know who I am? I’m Valerie—Haley’s sister. You killed her, and I’ve come here to kill you!”
Jared hung his head. “Blessed be!” He pulled off his shirt.
“Stop! Wait! What are you doing?” yelled Valerie, nervously fingering the trigger.
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