For a Song

by Morales, Rodney;

  As we neared Lanikai I slowed down even more. I let Mia’s green Mini Cooper and the Dodge get a bit ahead, so I was out of their rear-views.

  When I rolled quietly toward the house I saw that Mia had slung a backpack over her shoulder and was trudging quite slowly up the stairs.

  I watched the guy who was tailing her get out of his car. He wore a navy blue windbreaker. He gave her a few seconds, then began walking up along the fence.

  I took my cell out and phoned Mia.

  “Listen carefully,” I whispered. “I’m outside of Les’s house.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. It’s happening again. Just stay put. Don’t answer the door. And don’t call anybody.”

  “OK….” I could smell her fear.

  I hung up, pulled one of Ted’s hand-me-down golf clubs from the trunk, and followed the man up the stairs.

  When he neared the door Marvin came out. He jumped. Marvin approached him to rub against his leg. He kicked Marvin away with that same leg.

  I came at him with the club, which I realized was a nine iron.

  He went for his gun, which was held in place with a safety strap. Shit, he’s a cop. “Your hand touches the gun,” I told him, “I’ll break your arm in pieces.”

  He put his hands up. “Let’s be cool here. I’m a cop.”

  “Like that’s supposed to stop me.” But then, it did.

  He kept his hands up, still open, at face level, palms facing me. Something seemed to register. “Wait. Who are you?” he said, his neck jerking back slightly.

  “You’re on private property so I’ll ask the questions. What are you doing here?”

  “Investigating a murder.”

  Shit. He’s a Homicide cop. He opened his windbreaker just enough to flash the badge attached to a lanyard. I lowered the club till it was parallel to the ground, ready to swing it like Tiger if I had to.

  “Whose murder?”

  He squinted, examining my face. “I remember seeing you around the station. You used to be a crime reporter. Apana, right?” He reached for a cigarette.

  “Yeah.”

  He pulled out a lighter and lit up. “Heard the ace reporter had turned private eye.”

  Loved the sarcasm. “Yes, there was a career change.” I lowered the nine iron further. He blew out some smoke in my direction. I waved the smoke back at him.

  “Prompted by a little controversy, if I’m remembering right. And I happen to have a photographic memory.” He took another deep drag, blew out smoke again, then dropped the cigarette on the step.

  “Say, isn’t there a new smoking law where you have to be twenty feet away from the building?”

  “Not that I’ve heard, and, gee, whadaya know, I’m the law.” He crushed the cigarette with his patented cop shoe.

  “There’s littering laws too.”

  “All I know is, you got fired.”

  “Your photographic memory’s failing you. I resigned.” He looked at me like he was sizing me up, like he was wondering if he could take me if he had to. Not a chance. “Whose murder?”

  “You know you’re lucky you didn’t just whack me. ’Cause you’d be a dead man.”

  Yeah, talk tough when the club is down. “Whose murder, detective?”

  “Must have been tough times, transitioning.”

  Transitioning. Now where did I just hear that word? “I’d love to engage you in that discussion one of these days, but, for the last time, I would like to know whose murder, and why are you here?”

  “Unless you happen to live here—and I really doubt that you do—I don’t have to tell you shit. Hate to say it but my business trumps yours. That is, if you have any business being here.” He pulled another cigarette out from his shirt pocket and lit it. “What I don’t need is some screwed-up PI screwing around with my case.”

  I wanted to utter something about what a dumb movie line that would be. But I just stared at him. I wasn’t giving him an inch till he answered my question.

  He took a couple of deep drags, like it was a vitamin or something, then threw down the cigarette and mashed it with that same shoe.

  “You first.”

  “You’re wasting a lot of cigarettes.”

  “That’s my business. You tell me why you’re here, then I’ll tell you whose murder.”

  “I was hired to look for Caroline Johnson.”

  He folded his arms. “That’s who I’m looking for. And a Matthew Serrano.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m investigating the murder of Gerard Plotkin, director of stage plays. Ever heard of him?”

  I shook my head “no,” very slowly, like I was pondering. “That’s a name I’d remember, detective—”

  “Richards. Mel Richards, if you care to know.”

  “—so why are you here?” I pointed at the walkway beneath our feet.

  “Heard that Mr. Plotkin, a small-time director, was acquainted with the big-time director that owns this spread. And both Ms. Johnson and Mr. Serrano, who are known to spend a good deal of their time here, are known associates of both men. You sure you never came across that name?”

  “I’m pretty sure.”

  I didn’t want to tell him that I drank martinis with the dead guy on the last night of his life, though I was sure he’d eventually dig up some information about him spending his last hours at Indigo with a guy that resembled me. Hmm, let’s see, I give him two months to get to that point.

  “Got any suspects?”

  “No. Just asking questions. So you’re saying that Caroline Johnson is missing?” He unfolded his arms and stretched, pulling his shoulders back.

  “Like I said, I was hired by her mom to find her.”

  “And Serrano?”

  “No one’s seen him lately either.”

  “Well, I may have just solved your case. I followed Caroline here.”

  “That wasn’t Caroline you were following. That was her friend, Mia.”

  “That’s Caroline’s car.”

  “I can vouch for the driver.” Caroline’s car?

  He took out a pocket notebook. Flipped it open. “Mia Hwang?”

  I nodded.

  “She’s on the list too. Friend of the couple. I could talk to her. Since I’m here. You sure that wasn’t Caroline?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Why don’t we check?”

  I pulled out my cell phone.

  “What are you doin’?”

  “We got a scared and very tired woman in the house. She won’t open the door unless I tell her to.”

  Richards folded his arms again.

  I rang Mia. When she answered I said, “It’s all right; he’s a cop. Open up.”

  Some moments passed. I was getting edgy, ready to call again, when I heard the locks being disengaged. I felt Marvin brushing against my leg. Three of us stood by the door. When it opened, Mia shooed Marvin away and led us in.

  “Holy crap,” Richards said when he saw the vast interior.

  Mia motioned for us to sit down. She still held her cell phone, fumbling with it unconsciously. We sat on separate couches, spaced a little too far apart for intimate conversation. I got up and sat next to Mia. Detective Richards slid closer on his couch, still perpendicular to us. Mia seemed subdued, yet a little anxious.

  “Is that your car, the Mini Cooper?”

  “Les owns it, but it’s like a company car.”

  “One of two Minis,” I added. “One copper, which is a convertible, and the green one you just saw.”

  “Anyone who’s staying here has use of it,” Mia continued. “We all have keys,” she added through a yawn.

  “When you say all, are you including Caroline?”

  “Caroline, Matthew, me, Mrs. Loo, though she doesn’t drive….”

  “Mrs. Loo?”

  “She’s kind of a caretaker,” I put in.

  “Is she around?”

  I hadn’t thought about it. A house this big, you could hide for days in it befor
e someone would notice.

  “No,” Mia said. “She has her own place…. She usually comes during the daytime, and leaves in the late afternoon.”

  “When did you last see Caroline?”

  She glanced at me and rolled her eyes.

  “Her favorite question,” I told the detective.

  “She must have a good answer by now.”

  “Late April.”

  “You know the date?”

  “April twenty-second, twenty-third. I dunno. Somewhere around there.”

  For someone who had thought about it a lot, that was an intentionally fuzzy answer.

  “Caroline and Matthew left for Vegas on May third,” I told Richards.

  “I just wanna hear from her.” He looked at Mia.

  “Yeah, they left on May third. That I know because they took the copper Mini to the airport and I went there later on the bus to pick it up.”

  “Why Vegas?” Richards asked.

  “They were meeting with some people. Investors for their film.”

  “So they’re show business people?”

  “You could say that.”

  “And here I was looking for, let’s see”—he took out his notepad, flipped back a couple of pages, then read: “—a community activist and a lifeguard.”

  “They both have a range,” I said.

  Richards reached in his shirt pocket for a pen. I placed the nine iron I still held next to me on the couch and pulled out my own notepad and pen. Richards looked at me and frowned. I shrugged. He wrote something down, then nodded as he looked around the room, his notepad still open. “When was the last time you talked to her?”

  “May seventh.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “She called to cancel an appointment.”

  “You talk about anything else?”

  “Nope. Well, she did ask about my training.”

  “Your training?”

  “She does triathlons,” I put in. “You know run, bike, swim, but in reverse order.”

  He ignored me. “Did she have any man trouble?”

  She laughed. “Fending them off, maybe. Look, since she’s been with Matt she’s been pretty secure in that area.”

  “Did she seem to be in any kind of trouble?”

  Why was he asking these questions? Why would Kay’s problems have anything to do with the Plotkin case?

  “Not that I know of.” Now Mia seemed bored. She took a quick glance my way without meeting my eyes, then gazed at the rug.

  “Did she ever mention someone by the name of Gerard Plotkin?” He gave me a look. I knew he wanted me to keep my mouth shut.

  “You mean the guy who was murdered,” she said to him flatly.

  “You think Kay had something to do—,” I began to say.

  Richards gave me the stop sign with his hand. “I’m not thinking anything. Just asking questions.” He looked at Mia. “Did you know him?”

  “Not really. Our paths might have crossed. I just don’t remember.”

  “You were in a play he directed.”

  Mia moistened her lips. “It was a small part. We hardly interacted.”

  “In fact, you were Caroline’s stand-in. And you played the lead in … let’s see”—Richards looked at his notes—“in Much Ado About Nothing, when Caroline was ill.” Richards moved in closer. “Look, Mia, I know you had nothing to do with his death, so you don’t have to lie to me. You were part of a circle of friends that included Gerry Plotkin.” He now called him Gerry.

  Mia leaned toward Richards. “Like I said, I hardly knew him. And I wasn’t part of that so-called circle.” She eased back, put an elbow on the armrest. “Sure, I hung out with Caroline, but she was the one who was close to Gerard, not me.” She folded her arms. “People act like we’re twins or something. We’re very different. She does her thing, I do mine.”

  “Where are they, Caroline and Matthew?”

  She looked at me, like it was the dumbest question ever. “Beats the shit out of me,” she said to Richards, emphasizing every word.

  I was taking notes almost verbatim, thanks to old habits. Stopped when I found myself shorthanding the phrase, shit out of me. I flipped my notepad shut. Richards, on the other hand, had hardly written a word, his notepad still dangling in front of him.

  “Last year, she went to Thailand with Mr. Plotkin, right?”

  “Two years ago.”

  Richards flipped a few pages. “Oh yeah, right. Were they working on some project together?”

  “Not that I know of.” Flat tone again.

  “And now he’s dead and she’s missing.”

  I wanted to jump in with the questioning, but Mia was someone I was watching out for, not a suspect. As much as I didn’t want to stymie any Homicide investigation, I wanted to make sure that Mia wasn’t falling into some kind of trap. Not till I knew more.

  “And you last talked to Caroline on May seventh?”

  “Yes.”

  Mia’s cell went off. It had sunk into the crack between the sofa cushions. She pulled it out and opened it. Looked at who was calling and clicked it shut. She showed no expression, but she had also lost the color in her face.

  “What was that?” Richards said.

  “Nothing…. What were you asking?”

  “‘When did you last see her?’”

  “Oh yeah. A couple nights before Kay left we had drinks at Ward Center. That place, uh … E&O Trading Company.”

  This was news to me.

  “Did either of you use a credit card to pay the tab?”

  “I don’t remember. I think she treated.”

  Richards made a note of that. “We’ll look into whether there’s a record of a transaction on that date. Or thereabouts. You live here?”

  “It’s not my primary residence. I house-sit for Les. He likes to employ house sitters when he’s out of town, since he’s out of town a lot. Doesn’t like the house being empty.”

  “Have you talked to Caroline on the phone since May seventh? Keep in mind that we can track phone calls. It’s easy for us to find out where you called and when.”

  Mia looked annoyed. “You can look at my phone.” She held it out. “It’ll show all my calls with her and how long they lasted. And please note that all my outgoing calls show only time enough to leave a message—’cause she hasn’t been answering.”

  Richards tsked it off, saying, “You could have used another phone.” He wrote something down. “Haven’t seen her since the twenty-second or twenty-third of April. Haven’t talked with her since May seventh.” He looked her straight in the eye. “Hope you’re telling the truth.”

  “I am!” I am: Mia. Curious anagram.

  Richards looked at her like he didn’t believe a word. He pulled out his wallet and extracted a card from it. Offered it to Mia. “That’s my number. Call me if you remember something.”

  Mia nodded as she grasped the card.

  Richards got up to leave. I escorted him to the door. Mia stayed sitting, absently rubbing the card with her thumb and index fingers. I left the nine iron on the couch. We didn’t shake hands. When he opened the door, Marvin scurried in. I was about to shoo the cat back out but Mia said, “Oh, let him in. He has the run of the house.” As soon as Richards was gone she looked at me as if to say, What the fuck was that about?

  I shrugged. I had questions to ask, but I knew she needed a moment. If not a day.

  “Night golfing?” She was trying to be light, but that wasn’t going to work.

  “Yeah. Keeps me in shape…. We need to talk, Mia.”

  “I know, I know,” she said, waving me off. “But I really need a shower. Can I do that first?”

  “Yeah. No problem. I’ll just work on my swing.”

  I could hear the shower going, but I would bet she wasn’t in it. Her cell phone wasn’t on the table. She had to be calling someone. But who?

  I thought about Mia’s connection with Plotkin. She had been in at least one of his plays. As Richards said,
we got a missing girl and a dead acquaintance. Mia has got to be more involved than she’s let on. More informed.

  Mia returned from her “shower” wearing a pareu, which covered her from just below her neck to just above her knees. A towel was wrapped around her hair. Maybe she really did shower.

  She preempted my burning question by blurting out, “Yes, I did know Gerard. But I don’t know any more than I’ve already told you. Besides, he’s not the type you get close to.”

  “Caroline did.”

  “Yes, he loved his star.” Did I detect some jealousy? Was Mia going to move from ally to possible suspect in my mind? Suspect in what? A kidnapping? A murder? A cover-up?

  “Amber,” I said. “Know anyone in the acting world named Amber?”

  “Fuck, they’re all named Amber … or Tiffany … or Britney … or Lisa….”

  “Redhead, sort of auburn. Possibly Slavic … Slovenian.”

  “Sorry, I’m really not part of the scene. I don’t even know what a ‘Slovenian’ looks like.”

  “Know a Penelope Langham?”

  “Hmph. Penny Lane.” She smirked disapprovingly.

  “What does that mean?”

  “That’s what Kay and I used to call her. Heard that she’s Jerry Herblach’s latest concubine, or whore, or whatever the current term is.”

  “E&O? You never mentioned that.”

  “Thought I told you.”

  “No way.”

  “A week after the Lanikai Tri—”

  “—You ran the course with Kay. That’s what you told me.”

  “Yeah, and we ate after. At E&O.”

  I sighed. “Well, one thing we do know, is who’s been following you. Better the cops than—” I jumped, then I realized Marvin was brushing against my leg.

  Mia laughed. “Jeez, you’re jumpier than I am…. I think Marvin is beginning to like you.”

  I had no answer for either comment.

  Mia stepped away and returned with a brush and began somewhat absently combing her hair. “You should spend the night here. It’s really late. And I don’t want you sitting in your car outside all night.”

  “I wasn’t planning on sitting in my car all night.” Weariness was setting in.