by Ken Douglas
“Debra’s your sitter?” Horace said.
“No, silly. Carole is, but when her boyfriend comes over I go over to Debra’s, because they think I’m in the way.”
“How can you be in the way if it’s your house?” Horace said, still smiling.
“Exactly. That’s why I’m glad Debra moved next door. She doesn’t think I’m in the way. Margo likes me, too.”
“Did she change her hair?” Horace said.
“Yeah, but I still recognized her. I don’t think her mom did at first, but I did.”
“You’re pretty sharp.” Horace turned back under the hood, pretended to fiddle with one of the battery cables. “Fixed.” He closed the hood. “See ya.”
He couldn’t get in the car quick enough. No way could he do anything here. Not now, not after giving the little brat his real name.
Maggie took a sip of the hot tea, then set her cup on the coffee table. She watched as Debra did the same.
“My daughter,” Debra said, “my real daughter, died of SIDS, sudden infant death syndrome. She was a brand new baby, only two days old. I was pregnant when Gil went away. I wrote him about Margo right after she was born, but I couldn’t write him when she died. I should have, but I was only eighteen.
“I had a job working for your mother at this place called the Last Chance Motel in San Diego, she was the manager.
“One day she asked me if I’d mind staying in her place and watching her baby girls for a few days while she flew up to L.A. in a small plane with a couple of Marines. They were going to a Grateful Dead concert.”
“She was just going to leave two brand new babies with you?” Maggie said.
“We were friends, besides, she was a Deadhead. Maybe you had to be alive at that time to understand.”
“I know about Deadheads.”
“Yeah, I guess you would. Jerry Garcia’s gone now, but his fans are still just as crazy about him, more maybe.”
“We’re getting sidetracked,” Maggie said.
“You’re right.” Debra took a sip of her tea, then continued. “The next day I’d just put Margo down in her crib, but you had a runny nose and wouldn’t stop crying. I was pacing back and forth in the living room, patting your back with every step, when the doorbell rang. It was the police.
“They told me the plane had gone down in the ocean somewhere between the coast and Catalina. They couldn’t find the wreckage. They knew your mother was on the plane, because when they contacted the base, they found a friend of the pilot’s. They also knew about the babies.
“Margo asleep in the bedroom had the same name as the baby I’d lost. It seemed like fate, so I lied. I said your mother left you behind because you were sick, but that she took Margo with her.” Debra paused, took another sip of her tea.
“I always wondered why she took one of us on that plane and not the other,” Maggie said. “Sometimes I felt like there was something wrong with me, like she didn’t want me. But she didn’t take either of us. She left us both.”
“She was young.”
“So were you.”
“Yes I was.”
“So, did the police believe you, you know, when you told them she took one of the kids on the plane?”
“Without question. They bundled you up and left. The next day I packed and drove up to Huntington Beach, where I got a job waitressing and rented a small apartment a couple of blocks from the ocean.”
Maggie looked into the woman’s red rimmed eyes. It was wrong what she’d done, but she understood it. She picked up her tea, but put it back on the table without a sip. Silence ruled the room for a full minute, then she said, “Your husband never knew Margo wasn’t his real daughter, did he?”
“No. Gil loved her. He was a wonderful father.” She paused, started back up. “But he was only an okay husband. He was vain. He needed the fastest car in town, the biggest house on the block, the prettiest wife on the planet. He could buy a faster car every year and a bigger house every three or four, but he couldn’t stop his wife from aging, so he did the next best thing. He found the surgeons, arranged for the surgery. Gil Murrant’s wife never looked a day over thirty. And in the end, I suppose even that was too old, because he found himself a twenty-three-year-old honey.”
She took another sip of the tea, a pause for effect. “Her name was Gloria, she fancied herself a designer. But she killed him with a heart attack during sex. Now she gets nothing and I get her house.”
“Her house?” Maggie said.
“Yeah, can you believe this place?” She swept a hand around, attempted a smile. “I didn’t get clear title till last week. I’m gonna show it myself and drop the price ten thousand a week till someone buys it.”
“She lived here, the girlfriend?”
“Never got a chance to move in. I’m only living here because escrow closed on my house in Laguna Beach three weeks ago. As soon as I dumped this place, I was going to get a condo where Margo lived, you know, so I could be close. Now, tell me about you and what brought you here.”
Maggie started from when Virgil grabbed onto her shopping cart in the Safeway and told it all, right up till she knocked on Debra’s front door.
“So, you’re going to take over her life?” Debra said. “For Jasmine and for your baby. Fortunately, she had enough money, so you could do that.”
“It’s not about the money,” Maggie said. “You can have it. We can get along without it. We don’t need it.”
“Don’t be so naive,” Debra said. “It came from her father. It’s yours.”
“What are you saying?”
“In about two hours I’m supposed to meet Gil’s parents at LAX. Their flight comes in at noon and leaves at midnight. They were going to spend the day with Margo and me before flying off to a six week European tour. They’re in their late seventies and still in good health, but Gil’s death almost killed them. I can’t tell them Margo’s gone. I won’t.”
“You’re going to help me?”
“Years ago I made a mistake and it’s haunted me every day of my life. I played God with your lives, yours and Margo’s. In my defense, I was young, grieving and through all those years I loved Margo as if she were really mine. There’s absolutely nothing I wouldn’t have done for her and now there’s absolutely nothing I won’t do for her sister.”
“I’m going to need all the help I can get.” Maggie couldn’t believe how different Debra was from her first impression of her.
“I’ll make some excuse why Margo and Jasmine couldn’t come out to the airport. I’ll have dinner with them, tell them how wonderful Margo’s getting on and how great Jasmine’s doing in school. I probably won’t get back till 2:00 or 3:00. But first thing in the morning, I’ll pack and come by. Lord knows I’d rather stay with you than in this modern art mausoleum. I wanted to do that anyway, but Margo was afraid Jasmine wouldn’t get any school work done.” She smiled. “We do like to play.”
“Really?”
“I’m her other best friend. We’re the Three Musketeers, Jazz, Sonya and me.”
“I used to be in the Three Musketeers-me, Nick and Gordon.” Maggie sighed. “I should be getting back.” She wasn’t quite sure what she thought about Debra moving in. “The bus can be unpredictable and I want to be there before Gordon notices I was gone.”
“You took the bus?” Debra got up. “I’ll drive you.”
Maggie was hardly aware of the time as Debra negotiated her Mercedes through the traffic on Pacific Coast Highway. In what seemed like only seconds, Debra was signaling a left turn into the Sand and Sea Condos, Maggie’s new home.
“Mrs. Kenyon,” Danny said to Maggie, “your friend Gordon told me you lost your clicker, so I gave him one, I hope that’s okay.”
“It is,” Maggie said.
“My, we’re looking sharp today,” the guard said as he stepped out of the shack and looked in at Debra.
“Back at ’cha, Danny,” Debra said.
“Gonna be staying awhile?”
&nbs
p; “I was gonna stay in the new house till it sold, but I just couldn’t pass up seeing you every day, so I’ll be staying here till it’s off my hands.”
“Debra, you’re ’bout the best looking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Danny laughed, deep from the belly.” And now that your mourning time is over, we should give some serious thought ’bout stepping out, me and you.”
“What about Darnelle and the kids?” Debra laughed, too.
“Ah, them.” Danny was still laughing as he waved them on by. He turned. “How ’bout if I get an okay from the wife?”
“In your dreams.” She put the car in gear and drove through. Then, to Maggie, “Danny’s an old scoundrel, but he wouldn’t flirt with me if he didn’t know I enjoyed it so much.” She reached up to the visor and pushed a button on a garage door opener and waited while the gate slid open.
“You have your own clicker?” Maggie said.
“The condos come with two parking spaces. Margo only had one car, the spot next to it’s mine.” Debra parked next to where the Porsche should have been. Maggie was secretly thankful the parking space was empty. It meant Gordon, wasn’t back yet. She wanted a little time before she had to explain why she’d been out running around, when she’d promised she’d stay inside with the door locked.
“You really drove the car into the bay?” Debra said.
“I really did.”
“Margo would have freaked.”
“Yeah, well don’t think I didn’t.”
“I don’t know, it sounds like you handled yourself okay.”
“It was more reaction than anything else.” Maggie got out of the car.
“Okay, I accept your modesty,” Debra said. Then, “We’ll put our heads together in the morning, me, you, Gay and your friend Gordon.”
“Okay.”
Debra backed out of the space. Maggie stood and watched till she was through the moving gate and turning onto PCH. She was a nice person and Maggie thought she was going to like her.
Chapter Nineteen
Gordon paced the living room, doing his best to hold his temper. He hadn’t been in the apartment ten minutes when Maggie told him about the excursion to Debra’s and what she’d learned.
“I know I shouldn’t’ve gone out, but when I saw her mother was living so close, I just had to.” She leaned forward on the sofa, hands in her lap like a little girl.
“You could’ve wound up like Margo.” Gordon stopped his pacing, cut Maggie with a glare. What could she have been thinking?
“I said I was sorry.”
“Okay, you told me about your day, let me tell you what I found out. Your pal Norton was right about Nighthyde. He was arrested for breaking and entering when he was twenty-two. Striker was the arresting officer. He put in a word with the court and Nighthyde got probation.”
“We already knew that,” Maggie said.
“Here’s something you didn’t know. I did a check with DMV. Striker drives a black BMW.”
“So, he was the one who chased me into the bay,” Maggie said.
“Looks like it,” Gordon said. “And it seems pretty obvious Nighthyde is still working for him.”
“Brrr.” She crossed her arms in front of herself.
“So, I figured I’d talk to Nighthyde. I got his address from DMV and his number from the book. The guy’s some kid of hit man and he’s listed. Go figure. I called and his mother answered, apparently he lives with her. She said he wasn’t home. I told her I worked for the IRS and wanted to schedule an audit and needed to talk to him as soon as possible. She told me he was a process server and worked for the district attorney’s office, maybe I could get him there. Not only does he not work for the DA, there’s no record of him having ever worked anywhere. I called her back and she told me she’d just got off the phone with him. She said he was on his way to Mexico with a girl named Sadie and he wouldn’t be back till the day after tomorrow.” Gordon sat in one of the rattan chairs, looked Maggie in the eye. “So, it looks like we have a couple of days to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“I hate the thought that there’s somebody out there who wants to do to me what he did to Margo.”
“Maybe we should go to the FBI. I have friends in the Los Angeles field office. We could say you’re Margo and your twin sister Maggie was killed and that you think the killer’s coming after you. You could identify Nighthyde from the picture you saw in the mug book.”
“Nick would find out. He’d want to meet his dead wife’s twin. How would I face him? I’m already treading on thin ice as it is. I don’t think I could pull that off. And Bruce Kenyon would see right through it and take Jasmine. No, I don’t like that idea.”
“I thought that’s what you’d say, so I guess we’ll go with plan B.”
“Which is?”
“Tomorrow morning I’ll pay a visit to Striker at Nakano. I’ll tell him everything we know. I’ll tell him it’s all written down and in a safe place and, for added emphasis, I’ll tell him if anything happens to you, I’ll personally come by and cut his balls off.”
“I like this plan better.”
“But to make sure nothing happens to you or Jasmine, I’ll also have to tell him you’re letting it lie.”
“What do you mean?”
“They grabbed Margo here. They dumped her body behind the Whale. They followed you from the police station when you were Margo. They followed us from my house, where Maggie lived. Let’s face it, unless they’re stupid, they’ve made the connection between you and Margo. And they know they killed Margo. They know you’re Maggie and they know you’re masquerading as your sister.”
“I hadn’t thought it through that far.”
“I’ll have to tell Striker if he stays away from you, you’ll forget anything you might’ve learned about him, Nishikawa, Nakano and Nighthyde.”
“They get away with Margo’s murder?”
“And you get away with Margo’s life.”
“What about Norton’s mother?” She got off the couch, started for the kitchen. Stopped, turned back. “And… and, what about Wolfe’s little boy and his wife? What about them?”
“What about Jasmine? What about your baby?” He got up too, went to her, took her hands. “What about them?”
“It’s so unfair.”
“Yeah, well you know how that goes. Besides, we don’t know for certain they had anything to do with that. It could just be coincidence.”
“Norton said he doesn’t believe in coincidence,” Maggie said. “I don’t either, not anymore.”
“If you want to raise Jasmine and your baby here, you have to forget it.”
“I hate it.”
“I’m sorry, it’s the best I can come up with.”
“What if he doesn’t go for the deal?”
“He will.” He looked into her eyes, gave her hands a squeeze. “You’ll see. He’ll think you’re doing it for Margo’s money. That’s something he can understand. It’ll be over, really over.”
“I really, really hate it.” She let go of his hands, backed away, slumped on the sofa. “But I guess I don’t have any choice.” She looked fragile.
“I know it seems lousy, but sometimes you have to go with the flow. I’ll see Striker first thing in the morning. Then you can get on with living your new life.”
He came over to the couch, sat next to her and put a hand on her stomach. “I don’t feel anything.”
“You will soon.”
“It’s going to change your life, this baby.”
“My life’s already changed.”
“Yeah, I guess it has.”
The front door burst open and Jasmine and Sonya poured in. They were home from school. “Girl’s night out,” they squealed in unison.
“What?”
“Sonya and I decided you and me could go to the mall with Gay and Sonya,” Jasmine said. “We’re gonna have dinner, then the movies after.”
“Oh, we decided, did we?” Maggie said as Gay came through the front
door. “And it’s you and I, not you and me.”
“Yeah, me and Sonya. So, you should hurry.”
“Alright.” Maggie threw her hands up in mock surrender.
“I’ll get my coat.” Jasmine ran into her bedroom with Sonya right behind.
“Do you have a cell phone?” Gordon asked Gay.
She patted her purse. “Got an iPhone. I take it everywhere.”
“Keep an eye on the rearview. If you see a black BMW or anything else that looks suspicious, call 911.”
“You’re not coming?” Maggie said.
“Girls night out,” Gordon said. “Besides, I’ve got a call to make. You know, to set up that meeting for tomorrow.”
“What meeting?” Gay said.
“We’re ready,” Jasmine said as the girls came out of the bedroom.
“She can tell you all about it when there’s no little ears around,” Gordon said.
“I hate it when adults do that,” Sonya said.
“Tough break.” Gordon saw them out. The sun was hanging over Catalina Island, twenty-six miles away. It reminded him of Norton’s mother and Wolfe’s wife and son. Nobody should get away with murder.
He got Nakano’s number from information, made an appointment with Striker for 10:00 the next day. Then he stretched out on the sofa and closed his eyes, just for a minute. He opened them as the sun was going down. Hungry, he decided to walk up to Johnny Rocket’s and get a burger. He liked the ’50s art deco decor, the jukeboxes on the tables, the young crowd and the good food.
Horace sat outside at the picnic tables in front of the Taco Bell on Fourth Street in Long Beach and watched the sunset as the cars went by. On the table in front of him was his usual, five tacos and a large Pepsi, but he couldn’t eat. Half a day had passed since he’d talked to Ma on the phone and he was still seething. Someone had turned him into the IRS. It burned him. With every fiber in his being, he wanted to know who’d done it.
Lucky he thought fast. Telling Ma he was going to Mexico with Sadie bought him a few days, but it wasn’t enough. Once those IRS guys got their teeth into you, they never let go.
Maybe Striker could help him out. Those Jap business types he worked for must have plenty of high powered accountants on their payroll. Already feeling better, he chomped down on a taco. But that woman better be dead the next time he talked to him. He didn’t want to have to explain why she was still walking around if he was gonna ask him for help with one of those accountants.