“Was Mason Jones involved in this scene?”
“Oh, no. That was before Mason even enrolled.”
•••
I RETURNED TO THE office that evening and caught up on the paperwork. Gus was still in court. I like to make sure that my murder book is always up to date and already we had created quite a backlog. I find it meditative to collect all the information and put everything in perfect order. The office was quiet because of a crime scene downtown at the bus depot, so I had the place to myself. I got the updates, though. A homeless woman had snatched somebody’s baby in the women’s room. She’d held an opened cat food can against the baby’s neck and was keeping the kid hostage until someone turned over her disability check. Apparently, there had been some clerical mistake and she hadn’t received her benefits for six months and that’s why she was out on the streets and not on her meds. Her appeals had been ignored until now. When they checked, it turned out the homeless woman was on disability for mental illness and, just like she said, they hadn’t paid her for the last six months. Of course, the clerical staff found her files pretty quick today and delivered the check, all the last six months of her benefits, to the crime scene. I was relieved to get the final report that the baby and the homeless woman were unharmed during the incident.
When I got home, I could hardly move, I was so exhausted. I put some music on, Haydn’s 103rd Drum Roll Symphony. I laid on my couch for just a second and passed all the way out. When I woke up from snoring so loud, I found I was drooling and had left a wet mark on the brown leather of the sofa. Pancho perked me up with a wagging tail and wet kisses.
The phone rang. I didn’t intend to answer it, but then Coastal Eddy’s voice filled my house.
“Joan, it’s me, Eddy. I need to see you.” He waited for a moment then said again, “I need to see you, Joan.”
I picked up and told him to come over and to bring food.
Why had I done that? I didn’t know. I had to eat, I supposed, and I’d been too tired to pick anything up on the way home. Pancho gave me an expectant bark so I fed him and put on some music, Hank Williams. I took a shower and for a brief time I let the music take me away and I wasn’t in Los Angeles anymore. In my mind, I was back in the Ozarks and it was summertime. My grandmother was outside cutting the grass with a small push-mower. The blades spun round and round. My grandmother’s strong arms and body weight worked to guide it around the corners of her garden. I think she was ninety-three years old the last time I watched her mow the lawn of her garden. I prayed that I owned her strength, that it was somewhere in my DNA. If only I could access her mighty spirit and her genes at the same time, I’d be okay.
Eddy arrived that evening with white wine and Italian food. I had slipped on an oversize black turtleneck dress that came down to my knees. It was velvet and comfy and I hoped inviting. Pancho greeted Eddy with enthusiasm, his whole body shaking with joy. I took the wine and bag of food from Eddy so he could pet the dog with both hands.
“I think his name should be Demando instead of Pancho,” I said. “I need to take him for a walk. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
Eddy smiled, flashing bright whites. His eyes were soft and kind, his manner relaxed.
I reached for my Smith & Wesson, slipped it into the belt holster, and strapped that on around my waist.
“You’re bringing your gun to walk the dog?”
“Uh, well. I was. Is that a problem?”
“Do you relate to the whole world with that gun in your belt?”
“Sort of.”
“Why is that?”
“I dunno. Maybe it’s because I’m a cop.”
“How long you been carrying?”
“Since I was about ten.”
“Jesus. Ten? Were you in a gang or something?”
“No. I’m from the Ozarks. We don’t have gangs, okay? Or at least we didn’t back then.”
“Missouri or Arkansas?”
“Missouri.”
“Humph. That’s different.”
“Different from what? All the other girls you’ve humped?”
“Whoa. Turn it down, will you? You’re rough, you know that? Okay. Sure, bring your gun, I guess. If it makes you feel better. We might come across something you should kill.”
“It’s not like I want to kill things.”
“What else do you do with a gun other than kill things, people mostly?”
“Well, you can coldcock someone.”
“Hit them, you mean, with the gun.”
“Right.”
“That doesn’t strike you as strange that you think like that?” he asked.
“Hey, this isn’t the best neighborhood.”
“Okay, whatever. Let’s go.” Eddy insisted on taking the leash. “You relax,” he said, considerate as all hell. I liked it and maybe I softened a little.
The night was cool and quiet and I found it soothing. Pancho sniffed and peed and did his duty. Eddy explained that he had a Master of Science degree in marine biology and that he’d been living in Monterey until recently. It all sounded very civilized, nothing like my life and certainly not my past. I really couldn’t comment without sounding sarcastic or stupid, so I just said “hmmm” and “oh” and let it go at that.
“How old were you when you shot your first gun?” he asked.
“Ten, like I said.”
“Go on, tell me more.”
“Let’s see, I remember it well because things like guns are important to us mountain folk. My hair was long then, just like my mama’s. And my father, who always treated me like a boy, something I took great pride in, took me out to the fields behind our house to fire a silvery-blue shotgun.”
“Silvery blue?”
“Yes, it was well worn with a walnut stock that had an etched design on it and a switch to release the barrel.”
“It was your dad’s?”
“He had bought it for me, secondhand.”
“Yes, go on, don’t stop now.”
“Well, my father showed me how to stand. Legs slightly apart.” I demonstrated as if I held the gun in the stance. “I had been practicing with the shotgun under my father’s guidance so I already knew how to handle it. I cracked it open and inserted the shells, then snapped the barrels shut, released the safety, snugged the butt of the stock firmly to my shoulder, aimed, and fired. It knocked me five feet back on my ass. I’ve owned a gun ever since, over twenty years now. ‘Course, the Smith & Wesson I carry today is a lot handier than that old shotgun.”
I patted my gun. Eddy shook his head.
We had made it back to my alley when I happened to look toward my house and I saw someone in the yard. I pulled out my gun and took off running, leaving Pancho and Eddy in a state of bewilderment. But the culprit spotted me and was already gone by the time I got there. Pursuit in the jungles of Venice at night is treacherous. Besides, more than 80 percent of people who run from the police get away. I let it slide because I was tired and hungry and I knew who it was anyways. Some nerve that guy had. My front door was wide open but other than that it didn’t look like anything was disturbed. I heard Eddy and Pancho running toward the house and greeted them.
“What? What is it?” asked Eddy.
“Someone broke in; he took off running.”
“What’d he look like?”
“It was a big guy with dark hair. I know who it was.”
“Who?”
“The big bad bogey man. The one your parents tell scary stories about when you’re a little kid. You better be good. You don’t want the bogey man to get you. Hector. Hector Cardona. The guy I arrested at Addams’s party.”
I checked the door. Looked like a smooth job. He’d broken into houses before. In fact, I remembered that was why he was on probation. He’d jimmied the lock. No damage really, and nothing seemed to be missing. He didn’t have much time. The thought that he had been watching the house bothered me. I was pissed.
“I take back everyt
hing I said about the gun,” said Eddy.
“It’s okay. I can understand how it might get wearing. You don’t carry a gun, I take it.”
“Nope, never have. Never will.”
“How would you defend yourself if you ever…?”
“I take care of myself. You don’t have to worry about me.”
We calmed down and I served up the plates of the most delicious creamy pasta I had ever eaten. Eddy and I sat at the kitchen table and made small talk. Pancho was under the table at my feet. I found Coastal Eddy to be opinionated, political, and vigilant in his concern for the ocean and wildlife. In that moment, I understood Glenn Addams’s appreciation for Autumn Riley’s passion to save the environment. After dinner, we moved into the living room. Ever so often, I found myself looking out the windows and listening for sounds.
“That’s all real interesting,” I said to Eddy as I gave the scraps to Pancho. “Now, explain to me your connection to Autumn Riley.”
“I met her at the beach, on the boardwalk, and invited her to a Save the Bay rally. She was spirited, an admirable person. Very engaging. I don’t like what’s happened to her.”
“What did she do that was so engaging, exactly?”
“It’s hard to say, really. When she spoke, it was with great vehemence and indignation. I shared her outrage and I could see others respond to her. You got the feeling that if she fought for something, she would accomplish it. I was looking forward to having her on the team. I knew she’d be an asset.”
“And so then you also know Glenn Addams.”
“Not well, he was friends with an actress I knew.”
“Ginny Deavers? The star of his new movie?”
“Right. In fact, it was her who had invited him to the rally. Autumn and Addams hit it off right away and we didn’t see much of either of them after that. I was invited to Autumn’s party some time ago and though, no, its not my usual crowd, I went out of curiosity.”
“And De Sade’s Cage?”
“I went to the memorial and again, curious like you, I followed them over to the club.”
“Eddy, all I ask is please don’t hide anything from me and don’t get in the way.”
“I’m on your side, Joan. I am. I want to help. It’s not the sort of thing I normally do, but…”
He fell silent and his eyes took in the stack of the porno promo photos from the Dani murder scene on the coffee table next to Dr. Blanchard’s journal.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
“Research, could be evidence, so don’t touch it.”
“And that?” He pointed at Dr. Blanchard’s journal.
“The writings of some mad scientist in Haiti.”
He nodded, his eyebrows furrowed. “That the doctor Dewey worked for in Haiti?”
“You know Dewey?”
“I know he worked for a pharmaceutical company in Haiti and that he’s friends with The Barb.”
“How exactly do you know all this?”
“I told you. I’m an investigator, Joan. I usually investigate environmental crimes. I was concerned about the disappearance of Autumn so I scratched around a bit.”
“So tell me something.”
“The same pharmaceutical company that hired Dr. Blanchard and, subsequently, Dewey? They’re the same company that was doing new research and infected monkeys with the AIDS virus. An act of neglect allowed for the monkeys to escape. Then one bit a human.”
“What qualifies as an act of neglect?”
“Some say it was accidental, that a door was left open. Evidence would indicate otherwise. Lucky for the pharmaceutical company, because then they had a whole population of people desperate for a cure to experiment their drugs on.”
“If that were true, the pharmaceutical company responsible would have been indicted.”
“Working on it.”
“You aren’t like a conspiracy person are you? I mean, that sounds pretty wild. I understood that monkeys have always had AIDS and that an unusual strain was transmitted to humans. I thought someone ate an infected monkey or something like that. Never heard this pharmaceutical company doing research theory before.”
“Joan, you and I are charging up the same hill.”
“I don’t know about that. I don’t do conspiracy theories. If you’re going to make statements you better be able to back it up. No crazy paranoid talk is allowed in this house.”
“You sound just like a despot.”
“I’m just saying that you need some kind of proof if you want me to buy it. That’s all.”
“Proof is what I’m all about.”
“Good, I like that. Me, I’m a homicide detective. It’s really not political for me. It’s personal.”
“What I do is personal, too. People just don’t know how personal it is.”
“Okay, then. What do you want with me? You want to oversee the Autumn Riley investigation?”
“There’s a lot I want with you.” He smiled, but I didn’t. “I’m concerned about Autumn Riley but I don’t propose to oversee anything,” he said with a much more serious tone. “I won’t deny that I respect what you do. That’s not a bad thing, is it?”
“No. I wouldn’t say that was a bad thing necessarily.”
“What happened with Dani, anyway?” he asked.
“Unfortunately she won’t be getting up and walking away from her gurney at the morgue. Sadomasochistic theatrics and she’s dead, really dead.”
I showed him the picture of Dani, but then I regretted it immediately. It wasn’t exactly romantic behavior. It was mean of me. Working homicide, you sometimes resent that people take what you do lightly. Eddy studied the picture.
“I’m sorry,” he said as if she were someone I knew. In a way, she was. He handed the picture back to me in a tender, careful way.
“She wasn’t nice,” I said. “But she didn’t deserve that.” Something sank down from my stomach to my feet.
I went into the kitchen and dished out dessert: coffee ice cream sprinkled with pecans. Eddy followed me in and watched with tender eyes. I meant to dust the ice cream with powdered Dutch chocolate when Eddy took my hand, still holding a mound of the chocolate, and placed my fingers in his mouth. I caught my breath as a wave of pleasure flowed through my body. Chocolate dust spilled over his chin and my hands were dark brown where his mouth had been. He put his other arm around my waist and pulled me against him and I found myself melting into him. My body responded, feeling every muscle of his body. The intensity both ignited and frightened me. I pushed away from him with a moan. He pulled me back, kissed me full-mouthed. I tasted chocolate and felt his teeth, his tongue. He tightened his embrace. My hands were in his hair. I wrapped my legs around him and he bit my neck. Then my mouth was in his hair, the taste salty and fresh at the same time.
Sometimes death makes people want to affirm life with sex. It’s a reaction that I’m familiar with. A large weight struck me from the side, paws and dog hair and a long wet tongue was lapping my face. We broke it up to give the dog its proper attention and we both laughed a nervous laugh. The tension went out of the moment like air out of a balloon.
“God, that dog is big,” said Eddy.
“I know.”
“How long you gonna have him, anyway?”
“Oh, I take him in tomorrow and LAPD will give him back to his family.”
“That’s good.”
“Eddy, I’m glad we got together and all, but I really need to get some sleep.”
“I understand. I hope you don’t mind I kissed you.”
“No, it was nice.”
We walked to the door, Pancho trailing us every step and we all stood at the doorway for a moment.
“What I’d really like to do is get Tommy back to his family,” I said.
“I know. If anybody could, it’d be you.”
“Oh, Eddy.” My eyes teared up. I was tired. He put his hand on my neck.
“Goodnight, Joan,” he said and kissed me softly on the cheek.
<
br /> After Eddy left, I double-checked the house to see if anything was missing or stolen in case I missed it the first time. I don’t have many valuables in my place, just the usual television and CD player, but nothing I couldn’t replace except, of course, now I had my mother’s things. Hector had worked fast. It looked like nothing had been touched. Still, I wasn’t going to let this slide. My space had been violated. I checked the bedroom.
The spot on my bed where I keep my Raggedy Ann doll was empty. Hector had stolen my Raggedy Ann.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I WAS UPSET ABOUT the doll, so I brewed chamomile tea to calm myself. I was sitting on the couch letting the tea steep when my eyes fell on the stacks of evidence on the coffee table and I decided to study the porno promo shots from the Dani crime scene. Pancho jumped up on the couch and curled up, as much as a big dog can, beside me. He’d be back with his family tomorrow. I patted his head and he licked my hand. As I went through the promo shots, one in particular drew me in. It was a full-color glossy of a woman that I recognized—Kunda, The Malibu Psychic. She had on a purple dog collar and held her hands up in front of her like they were paws. The bottom of the photo indicated the film was a Spike and Barb production.
I stood up. Pancho picked up on my change of energy and jumped off the couch in readiness. The promo shots slid to the floor and I bent over to pick them up. My chest welled with hope for a lead as I stacked them neatly and stared once more into those purple eyes.
I pulled on a pair of black jeans and grabbed my badge, holster, and gun. On the way out the door, I picked up Dani’s photo and my cell phone.
“Pancho, you stay.”
As I drove up Pacific Coast Highway, I dialed Gus. The ocean reflected a shining sliver of moon and there was hardly any traffic so I was making great time. Gus was asleep and I had awakened him.
“How was court?”
“That lousy bastard is going away for life.”
“Good. Listen, I’m on my way to have a chat with the Malibu Psychic.”
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