“You won’t even know I’m there, I promise. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse and won’t leave my room.”
“I don’t think so.”
Karen stopped walking and gently grabbed Lowell’s arm. He stopped too. “I wouldn’t ask, except that, well, I’m kinda broke right now and it took all my dough to get here. I really don’t have enough for a hotel room.”
“Why don’t I just pay for a room for you?”
She shook her head, her short brown bangs flip-flopping across her forehead. “I could never take charity, and it would just take too long to pay it back. Besides, I’m hiring you. It wouldn’t work if you paid for things. This way if you’re ever in L.A. you can call on me to return the favor for anything you needed. You can always stay at my place.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Please? Just think about it, okay? You won’t regret it, I promise. Do you live around here?”
“No. I live uptown off of Lexington Avenue, in Carnegie Hill.”
“Don’t know where that is. This is my first trip to New York since I was twelve. Come on, I’ll drive you home. The car’s down this street.”
They turned down Twenty-fifth Street toward Second Avenue. “Why do you have a car in New York?”
“How else was I supposed to get here?”
“You mean you drove from L.A.?” Lowell was incredulous.
“Yeah. It’s not so bad when you got company. Here’s my car.”
“Company? What company?”
They were stopped next to an old, beat-up, gray Toyota, vintage 2000 or so. Karen opened the door with a key and clicked the lock-release on the driver’s door. “Get in.”
Lowell walked around to the passenger’s door and opened it. It squeaked from rust and old age. He stuck his head into the car and his face was immediately slobbered on by the largest, black dog he had ever seen. “What the hell?”
“That’s Luigi. He won’t bother you. Just push him into the backseat. He’s a pussy cat, really.” She got into the driver’s seat and grabbed the dog by the collar. “Go on, you big baby, get in the back. That’s a good boy.” She looked out the passenger door. “You can get in now.”
Lowell was wiping his face with a handkerchief as he got in the car. “What do you intend to do with him?”
“What do you mean? He’s staying with me. I wouldn’t leave my buddy for all the money in the world.” She looked at him sheepishly. “Nobody’s going to let me stay in a hotel with him. Now do you get it? What do you say?”
“You’ve been here for a few days already, haven’t you? Where have you been staying?”
She waved her hand around the Toyota. “Welcome to Chez Sweeney.”
“You’ve been living in your car?”
“Yep. But I got Luigi for protection.”
Lowell was used to being alone, especially since his divorce. He had guests infrequently, though on one occasion he had to house his entire staff at his townhouse during a particularly dangerous case. But he really didn’t like being around people that much, especially strangers. And while on a case he preferred to stay in his office. But he wouldn’t allow a stranger to stay in his townhouse without his presence, which meant that he would also have to stay at the townhouse. But this woman was Wally’s friend. He couldn’t let her sleep in the car. And he did have one serious weakness—animals. He loved them all unconditionally. This was the main reason he was a vegetarian. He looked at the monster in the backseat, its sad eyes watching his every move, as if he knew Lowell controlled his future.
He sighed and nodded reluctantly. “Alright. For a few days. Why are you doing this and risking so much?”
“The detective that was killed?”
“Broad.”
She nodded. “My name is Karen Broad Sweeney. He was my mother’s brother and my favorite relative. And I loved him very much.”
Chapter Twenty-one
“What makes you think Williamson had anything to do with your uncle’s death?”
Karen was sitting on the couch in the living room of Lowell’s townhouse, Luigi asleep at her feet. “I don’t know. I’m just following the trail. The last time I spoke to him he told me that he had discovered something strange about a case he was working on and he needed to follow it up.”
“He didn’t tell you what he found out?”
She shook her head. “I only know that he came to the East Coast for a few days, and then flew back to L.A. I got one short phone message while he was here.” She took her cell phone from her pocket, pushed a few buttons, and gave it to Lowell.
He listened. “Hi Karen, I’m in a hurry, I’ll call you later when I have more time.” There was the sound of rustling papers. “I’ve got the weirdest case I’ve ever had. Things aren’t at all what they seem. Listen kid, if anything happens to me I want you to take the keys I gave you last year, go to my N.Y. apartment and get the mail. I sent something to myself and if I can’t get there for any reason, you must check it out.” He could hear a door opening. “I gotta go. I’ll call you soon,” said in a whisper. Then the message ended.
Lowell handed her the phone. “Doesn’t tell us much. Not even if it was Williamson he was talking about. Maybe he was looking into something else altogether.”
“That’s possible. But I’m going to follow my uncle’s footsteps until I find out what happened.”
“If Williamson was involved, he lives and works in New Jersey. Why are you in Manhattan?”
“My uncle was born here and grew up on the Lower East Side. He always kept his rent-controlled apartment to use when he was in New York. He held onto it for decades, even after he moved to California, and that’s where he was staying when he was here. He went back to L.A. right before I received this message, and he was dead forty-eight hours later. That’s all I got to go on. Sometimes all we have is our instincts.”
“If your uncle has a place here…”
“Why aren’t I staying there?”
Lowell shrugged.
“I went down there and saw the super when I first got here. No dogs allowed. And he was very unbending and nasty about it. He said that if he found a dog living in one of his apartments he’d call the cops immediately. And I think it would be pretty difficult to hide Luigi.”
“I see.”
Lowell’s live-in housekeeper, Julia entered. She was originally from Brazil and went to work for Lowell soon after her husband died, almost seven years before.
“Mr. Lowell, the guest room is ready.” She looked down at Luigi, her displeasure quite apparent. “What do you want me to do with him?”
Karen bent down by Luigi, who rolled on his back so she could rub his belly. “Don’t worry about him. He’s as gentle as a cow.”
The housekeeper nodded. “And twice as big. You got food for him?”
“I’ve got a fifty-pound bag in the car.”
“And what are you going to feed him tomorrow?” She turned to leave. “Bring it to me and I’ll take care of him.”
“I’ll do it,” said Karen. “After all, he’s my dog.”
“Oh, no you won’t. He may be your dog but it’s my house. I’ll be in the kitchen if anyone needs me.” She went down the hall.
Lowell watched with amusement. “Look, Karen, I’ll try to help you find out what happened to your uncle in any way I can. Feel free to ask any of my staff for help as well. I’ll let them know tomorrow. But I have to separate your situation from my case. I can’t let it interfere with my investigation.”
“I understand. I appreciate any help you can lend.”
Lowell got up. “I’ve got some work to do downstairs in my office. Will you be alright here for a while?”
“Sure. I’m real tired anyway. Luigi and I will watch some TV and then turn in early. We haven’t had a good night’s sleep since we left L.A.”
She yawned and tilted her head f
rom side to side, stretching her neck muscles. “I’ve got some phone calls to make early in the morning. Also, there’s a guy in Queens who might know something. Last time I spoke to my uncle he mentioned a name and an address in Queens, New York. Where is that? Queens? And how do I get there?”
“It’s that way.” Lowell pointed east. “But it’s a big borough with lots of different neighborhoods and you don’t know your way around. Let me know if you decide to follow up on it. I’ll have my driver take you.”
“Really? You mean like a chauffeur?”
“Exactly like one. Just call my office a few hours in advance and let Sarah know where you need to go. Andy will pick you up and take you there.” He handed her his card.
“Cool.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Lowell awoke at five, as he always did. He went into the kitchen and found Julia had left the coffee maker ready to go, as she always did. He pushed the brew button. Then he went to the front door, opened it, and retrieved the New York Times. When he returned to the kitchen the smell of fresh coffee permeated the air. He took a mug from the cupboard and poured a cup. He added a spoonful of organic brown sugar, a dollop of milk, and with his coffee and paper in hand, opened the door from the kitchen to the backyard. He was about to close it when Luigi appeared. He looked up at Lowell with his seemingly sad eyes.
“You’ve got to be walked, don’t you? Okay, big guy. Come on. Where’s your mommy? Still asleep upstairs, I’ll bet.”
He grabbed several plastic bags from under the sink, took the leash that was hanging on the front doorknob, and hooked it up to the dog’s collar. Then he took Luigi out and they trotted up Ninety-third Street. When he was done with his business they went back into the townhouse. Lowell picked up his coffee cup and headed toward the backyard, Luigi at his heels.
“You want to come outside?”
Luigi seemed to grin.
Lowell opened the screen door and Luigi plodded down the porch steps. He sniffed around the tiny property marking his territory on the wooden panels.
Lowell put his coffee on the table and sat smiling. “You’d better not let Julia see you do that.” His love of animals was absolute. They could do no wrong. He always tried not to place human restrictions or expectations on his four-legged friends, as so many did. ‘Never get mad at a dog for being a dog,’ he was fond of saying.
When Luigi was done he walked over and lay down with his head on Lowell’s feet. Lowell unconsciously leaned over and rubbed his gigantic head. “You are a sweet thing, aren’t you?”
He opened the Times and began catching up on the world’s events. The front page showed a horrific sight he would probably never forget. It was the carcasses of hundreds of elephants slaughtered in the most barbaric ways with their tusks sliced from their bodies. He read the story, his heart racing, his anger swelling up inside. Armed militia, some backed by the governments of small African nations, were using automatic weapons and even grenades to kill these magnificent beasts. The demand for ivory, especially in China with its newly expanded upper and middle classes, had grown to insane proportions. In one nation the elephant herds which had once numbered in the tens of thousands were down to about 500. There had been no pups born for several years, the fear and understanding of what was happening to them took away even the desire to procreate. Elephants, he knew, were highly intelligent creatures who mourned their dead. This once magnificent herd was mourning their own extinction.
He shook his head, put the paper down, and leaned over to rub Luigi’s belly, as if some contact with the animal world could alleviate at least a tiny bit of his disgust at his own species. The dog rolled over onto his back, his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth, a smile on his face.
Julia came out of the house. “I’m making breakfast for you, Mr. Lowell.”
“No thank you, Julia. Coffee is all I really want. And how many times have I told you to call me David?”
“Yes sir, Mr. L…David.”
“That’s better.”
“They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I’ve got eggs and toast cooking. I’ll bring it out in a few minutes.”
“I really don’t…”
“I’ll bring it out in a few minutes.” Her determination was unbendable.
Lowell sighed. “Alright, I guess a small breakfast won’t kill me.”
She went back into the house. He went back to the Times.
Luigi was bored. He began roaming the tiny estate, sniffing everything. Lowell paid him no mind. He was reading the op-ed page when Julia came out with his meal. Two hard-boiled free-range eggs, multi-grain toast, and jam. She placed the tray on the table.
“This looks wonderful, Julia. Thank you.”
“More coffee?”
Lowell looked at his cup, almost empty. “Yes, I could use another.”
She went back inside briefly and returned with a silver pot. She poured some into his cup and left the pot on the table. She turned to go back inside, but something caught her eye.
“What are you doing!” she shouted.
Lowell turned his head and saw what she was looking at. Luigi was digging a hole.
“My rhododendrons. My beautiful rhododendrons. Why, you monster.”
Luigi picked his head up and looked at her, then looked back at the hole. He lay down prostrate, face to the ground, with his front legs stretched out in front of him, a look of chagrin on his mug.
Julia’s face was flush. “You wait here, you, you dog you.”
Luigi looked up at Lowell.
He shook his head. “Nothing I can do for you, big guy. You’re on your own.”
Julia went inside and returned with a broom. When Luigi saw it, he got up.
“I’ll teach you to dig up my garden.” She went for him with the broom, but Luigi was too quick for her. He bolted past her, receiving a passing swat on his backside. She chased him around the garden twice. Try as he might, Lowell could not contain his laughter.
Julia stopped in front of Lowell. She had sweat on her brow. “My beautiful rhododendrons. Oh Mr.…David. Why, why did he have to dig up my garden?”
Lowell could barely contain his amusement. “Because he’s a dog.”
“Well, you don’t have to enjoy it so much.”
He tried to put on a concerned face. “I’m sorry, Julia. We’ll get you new bushes, I promise.”
“Oh whatever. I’ll be glad when he’s gone. And that woman, too.”
“Yes, me too.” He didn’t like his routine disrupted. Still, he did enjoy the company of a dog and wondered if he would ever again own one. He couldn’t stand to lose them, and every time he had to bury one of his beloved canine friends it broke his heart. That’s why he finally decided on turtles. They live a long time.
Julia lifted the broom and resumed her attack. Finally Luigi leaped up the stairs, past the open screen door, and into the house with Julia and her broom only a step behind.
About thirty minutes later Lowell finished the Times, picked up his coffee cup, and headed into the house. He walked through the kitchen and into the living room. Julia was asleep on the couch. The broom lay on the floor next to her. Luigi was also asleep on the couch, his head resting in Julia’s lap—the picture of total contentment.
Lowell needed to get to his office and learn more about Officer Sweeney and Mickey Broad, and to find out who was after whom.
And if Dr. Williamson was a killer as Karen thought.
Chapter Twenty-three
“Sarah, get me Detective Wally Samuels in L.A. You’ll find his number in the files.”
“Okay, Boss.”
A few moments later his intercom buzzed. He picked up the phone. “Lowell.”
“Hey David, nice to hear from you.”
“Wally, how’s the left coast?”
“Still here. Why? Do the
stars say it’s time to leave?”
“Not yet. But if we don’t change our ways, it shouldn’t be long before Arizona is beachfront property.” He laughed.
“What can I do for you? I assume this call has to do with our dear Karen Sweeney?”
“Yes,” said Lowell. “I’d like to thank you for dropping her in my lap.”
“Now David, you’ve met her. Do you think there’s anything I could have done to stop her?”
“Tell me about her.”
“She’s willful, arrogant, and can be nasty.”
“Uh huh. Is she a good cop?”
“One of the best,” said Samuels. “She’s tenacious and focused, and she can take care of herself.”
“That I know.” He told Wally about the carjacking incident.
“That’s our Karen, always sticking her nose into everything. She’s a whiz at martial arts. I think she’s overcompensating for her size.”
Lowell could hear a lighter flick. “Still smoking, huh?”
“I’m trying to quit. I’ve tried gum, hypnosis, doctors, everything. Hell, right now I’ve got my office door locked, and I’m almost hanging out my window. I feel like a criminal every time I light up.”
“Good luck with it.”
“You ever smoke?”
“Briefly, in my late teens. But I never really liked it and I quit very early on.”
“Well, I wish I could. Especially living here in L.A. where everyone’s into all this health crap. You should see the looks I get.”
“What do you think about all of this?” asked Lowell.
“You mean about Karen being in New York?”
“Yes. Do you think there’s something to it?”
He heard Wally take a big puff. “Karen is usually clear-headed and very professional. I know she seems to be a bit of a firecracker, but when it comes to police work she’s one hundred percent. But this business is something else. She tell anything about her uncle?”
“Not much.”
“I think it’s a difficult subject for her. Mickey Broad was more than just her uncle. Karen’s father died when she was about ten and in many ways her uncle filled the void. He was close to his sister, Karen’s mother, and would often be at their house. He took Karen to ballgames, and sometimes on stakeouts. I think he’s the reason she became a cop. She took his death very hard.”
Evil in the First House: A Starlight Detective Agency (Starlight Detective Agency Mysteries Book 3) Page 10