You Say Goodbye

by Keith Steinbaum

  “Find out for me.”

  “Will do, but what I wanted to tell you is a little while ago I saw him working with a deck of cards that was missing the Jack of Hearts.”

  “It was?” Maldonado asked. “Are you sure?”

  “One hundred percent. He threw them in the trash can before he left the room, so I took them out and went through every card, ending with the fifty-first. I still have them in my pocket.”

  “That is very interesting news.”

  “And the cards have the same blue Bicycle design on the back.”

  “Okay...okay,” Maldonado said, his voice taking on a sudden animated tone. “Tell me everything it says on the card.”

  Sean reached into his pocket, reading the card’s entirety out loud.

  “We’ll run a second background check on that name. Maybe something noteworthy will show up that we missed the first time. The man does parties and conventions, so we’ll need to take another look at the victims’ backgrounds, things they may have attended in the days leading up to their murders. Let’s see if any of them could have known him previously. It’s a shot in the dark, but a possible lead nonetheless. Good work, Sean.”

  Sean leaned back and rested his head against the window as he eased his body between the door and the edge of his seat. Understanding that a short time ago he may have conversed face to face with Merissa’s murderer turned his stomach into a logjam of knots and nerves.

  “Are you really able to find out if they went to any conventions or parties or whatever it might be that had a magician? That sounds like a shitload of work.”

  “Do we have any other choice?” Maldonado shot back, his voice rising. “Welcome to the world of shitload, Sean. This is what it takes. This is what we need to do.”

  “Of course,” Sean replied, his voice softening.

  “Try to find that card, all right? We’ll see if we can check it for prints and match them against the rest of the deck.”

  “When I get home tonight I’ll look for it,” he answered, spotting Anita Peterson, sans Roger, walking toward the entrance. He looked at the time on his phone and realized he needed to end the conversation. “I better go, Ray.”

  “Answer me something first,” Maldonado said. “If you called to tell me about your suspicion of Stan, a guy you previously didn’t know, then why’d you tell me I could be right about Miss Franklin’s murderer being somebody you knew?”

  Sean looked toward the club entrance and saw people arriving at a faster rate. “Because of what Stan told me about Adam.”

  “What Stan told you about him? Did you know they knew each other?”

  “Not until today,” he answered. “He told me they attend the same church. He also taught him card tricks.” Closing his eyes, he shook his head in confusion and, as he recognized now, in fear as well. “Now I’m thinking Adam could also be the one.”

  Sean described what he’d been told--about the private magic lesson and how Adam returned Stan’s deck of cards one Jack of Hearts short of a full fifty-two. The coincidence seemed too great to ignore and the detective agreed, intrigued by these new revelations and complimentary of Sean’s help in uncovering them.

  “It’s about six-thirty now,” Maldonado said. “Can you call me back at nine? I just want to know if you make any further observations tonight.”

  When the conversation ended, Sean remained in his car another few minutes attempting to calm his emotions. The lingering light of a breezy July early evening allowed an extended visibility of the guests continuing to arrive. Spotting Darryl, one of the singers performing that night, standing by the entrance as his parents approached him, he reminded himself that despite his current distractions, playing a few basic chords on an acoustic for a nervous kid at a fundraiser required nothing more than a small percentage of his focus. But as he reached for the door handle, engulfed by his sudden knife-edged distrust of Adam and Stan, he realized one percent might be all he had to give.

  Chapter 23

  After entering through the open-air overhang off the parking lot, Sean watched two staff workers greet a couple at the sign-in table. After presenting them with a Mid-Valley Youth and Family Directional Center coffee cup and ball cap, they directed them to the courtyard, pointing toward the walkway on the right side. Recognizing Sean, they smiled and wished him luck as he walked by, guitar case in hand. Rounding a corner to the courtyard, he observed groups of people milling around long rectangular tables as they perused the donations for the silent auction. Ever the salesman, Elliot stood among them, gesticulating, talking, and passing his hands over the various gifts. At the end of the table nearest Sean, the signing paper under a wrapped basket of what appeared to be kitchen supplies blew to the ground after another strong breeze. A bald man with a flowery shirt leaned down to grab it, but as he started to rise, another paper flew off. After tucking both sheets under their respective gifts, the man walked toward Elliot and started speaking with him, pointing to the area where he’d just been.

  As Sean turned and headed for the stage, he saw the Michaels family waving their hands from one of the dining tables. Waving back, he started walking in their direction, glancing to his left as Stan performed a trick for two men and two women standing near him. Placing his guitar at the base of the microphone, he greeted the Michaels and told them he’d return after getting some food.

  Closing the sliding lid to the lasagna platter, he looked toward the card on the table signifying what the next enclosed container held.

  “Try the chicken wings,” a familiar voice said. “They are messy but delicious.”

  Turning, he smiled at Anita Peterson, looking noticeably weary despite the makeup.

  “Hi, Anita,” he said. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

  “It’s for a good cause, so why not? We were here for the last one, too, thanks to...well...thanks to Merissa.”

  Sean acknowledged the remark with a smile and nod.

  “I was in my car when I saw you walk in by yourself. Is Roger here?”

  A sorrowful expression overtook her face.

  “I told him I didn’t want to be with him tonight,” she explained. “He’s supposed to be at home reflecting on what an asshole he can be, but who the hell knows? She looked down at his plate. “Oh, I’m sorry, Sean. Finish getting your dinner.”

  “I admit I better eat soon,” he told her, glancing at his food. “I’m playing for some budding young superstars who’ll be singing tonight.”

  “Looking forward to it,” she said, offering his elbow a light squeeze. “Now go eat.”

  As she walked away, Sean realized he wanted to know. He needed to know.

  “Anita, wait!” After she stopped and turned, Sean beckoned her with a tilt of his head.

  “Need help finding the chicken wings?”

  “So why’s he at home?” he asked. “Tell me.”

  Anita stared at him, her expression a blank canvas. “Your food’s getting cold, Sean.”

  He leaned forward, placing his face close to hers.

  “Just tell me he forgot about your anniversary, or came home late when you cooked a special dinner for him, something like that, okay? Tell me that the marriage counselor stuff is working and your unhappy facial expression had nothing to do with his past bullshit.”

  A momentary appearance of moistness appeared in her eyes, transforming into a look of defiance. “It wasn’t an anniversary,” she said, “it was a birthday. His birthday. And as a surprise I bought him the bowling ball he’s been wanting. I had to lug his old one into the store so they’d know the size of the finger holes, right? What a wife, huh?” Anita turned away, her hand first covering her mouth and then moving up to wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. Heaving a deep sigh, her shoulders rose then dropped like a scream ride at an amusement park. “When I lifted the old ball out of the bag, I discovered a little surprise inside, hiding at the bottom.” A bitter smile emerged on her face. “A pair of handcuffs.”

  Sean felt
the plate loosen from his grip and whipped his other hand around to steady it from underneath.

  “You look pretty shocked,” she said. “But considering how Roger’s asked me more than once to try that kinky shit before, I had a bad feeling about them. I mean, if he couldn’t get his porn-star jollies from me, why’d he have them? And what were they doing at the bottom of his bowling bag? Wouldn’t surprise me if one of the women you bowl with is Roger’s new fling.” Gazing down at her feet, she shook her head and laughed. “So when he came home from work and I asked him about it, he actually tried to convince me he was learning a magic trick with them. Can you believe that? So I asked him to show me what he’d learned so far. He just sat there and looked at me, not knowing what to do.” She swallowed hard and stared into Sean’s eyes. “When he couldn’t even fake it, I knew. That’s when I told him to leave. I’m not sure what time it was when he came back but it was late and I was already asleep.”

  Sean shook his head. “Sorry for what you’re going through, Anita.”

  She reached out and grasped his shoulder. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, Sean,” she said. “It’s my burden to bear. Good luck tonight, okay?”

  Sean realized a missing piece of information needed an answer.

  “What night was this?” he asked. “Was it this week?”

  Anita stopped and looked at him, her head tilting slightly. “Why that matters to you I have no idea,” she said. “But since you asked, yes, it was Tuesday.”

  He watched her walk toward the silent auction tables, his mind a brewing cauldron of speculation and suspicion. As he struggled to clear his thoughts for the moment about Roger, in addition to Adam and Stan, he realized he’d better concentrate on the matter at hand to make it through the show. Turning back to the buffet, he helped himself to some chicken wings before returning to the Michaels family.

  ***

  “You should have seen Amazing Stan the Magic Man!” Kayleigh exclaimed, wearing her Mid-Valley Youth and Family Directional Center cap. “Wow!”

  “Yeah!” Randy shouted. “He did a trick where I picked a card and signed my name, and it wound up inside a sealed envelope!”

  “And he turned a scarf into flowers!” Kayleigh said. “And he took Daddy’s watch off and put it in his pocket, and Daddy didn’t even know!”

  Sean finished another mouthful of lasagna. “Sounds like you guys had a great time.”

  “Elliot was a very gracious host,” Stephanie said. “He knew Kayleigh wasn’t strong enough to walk everywhere so he let her use a computer in the office until we came back for the magic show. And now he has us sitting here center stage because he knows how much Kayleigh wants to see you up there.”

  Sean smiled and winked at his snow globe-headed little friend, a picture of beaming joy under her cap. “This isn’t the Sean Hightower Band you’re going to hear, Kayleigh,” he explained. “Just a little background guitar for the kids who are going to sing.” Observing how her smile hadn’t waned, and concluding that nothing he’d say mattered, he resigned himself to her excitement. “But I’ll try not to let you down.”

  “She loves her new guitar, Sean,” Stephanie said, looking at her daughter. “I heard her practice today and she’s really improving.”

  “Don’t forget my lesson tomorrow, Mr. Music.”

  “Have you been working on those chords I showed you?”

  Kayleigh nodded her head like a rapidly dribbled basketball.

  The schedule called for the first of the three singers to perform at eight o’clock. When Sean saw Elliot walking toward the table he checked the time, verifying another fifteen minutes remained. More food remained on his plate and he intended to finish the rest.

  “How’s everybody doing over here,” he asked, placing his hand on Kayleigh’s shoulder.

  “We’re having a great time, Elliot, thank you,” Jason answered.

  “I hope these wind gusts aren’t bothering any of you,” he said. “I’ve had to use this to keep the silent auction papers from blowing away.”

  Sean had his head lowered, eating another chicken wing with one hand while reaching for his napkin with the other.

  “Well that kind of tape will sure do it,” Stephanie said.

  The instant Sean looked up, Elliot captured his full attention.

  “Let’s hear it for our ever-handy miscellaneous supply box,” he explained, chuckling. “From sponges to hammers to rope to tape, you never know what might come up. It’ll take a hurricane to scatter them now.”

  Sean continued staring at the nondescript object in Elliot’s hand, wondering if the item meant anything at all. After all, it was only duct tape. Common, store-bought duct tape.

  Chapter 24

  “I’m in the parking lot.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I’m in the parking lot,” Maldonado repeated. “I’m here to talk with Stan, full name Ulysses Stanley Claybourne.”

  “So that’s what his initial ring stood for, huh?” Sean replied. “I assumed it meant the school.”

  “Ulysses Stanley Claybourne, forty-eight years of age, born and raised in Medford, Oregon. Attended the University of Oregon from 1978 to 1980 but didn’t graduate. Eventually took up residence in Los Angeles in 1991. None of this tells us a damn thing, but I’m curious as to why somebody who worked with Miss Franklin and claimed a strong fondness for her didn’t attend her funeral. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation, but it’s still a question worth asking.”

  Sean sat in the darkness of his car, holding the phone in his left hand while his right thumb rubbed circles along the inside portion of his fingers. From his vantage point, most of the parking spaces remained occupied, but he knew the reason for one of the vacant ones. Stan left the party an hour earlier at eight o’clock, and despite Sean’s lack of true familiarity with Jenny, he liked her and felt a deepening fear for her safety.

  “Stan’s not here anymore,” he said, his heart starting to race. “He went to pick up Jenny to take her to some party that hired him--or at least that’s what he claimed.” Sean lowered his head, clutching his forehead in worry. “Ray, I’m asking you to get over there fast if you think there’s any chance he’s the man you’re looking for.”

  “Who’s Jenny?”

  Sean swallowed hard, his throat drying more by the second. “She’s a woman I met recently. She told me she’s gone out with the guy before so I don’t know what to think.”

  “Do you know where she lives? An address?”

  “Dammit, Ray, no!” he replied, fist pounding his thigh. “But it can’t be too far. I heard him talking to her on the phone and he said it would take twenty to thirty minutes from here.”

  “Give me her last name. We could get addresses of all names that match and try it that way.”

  Sean stared through the windshield, dumbfounded at the sudden realization.

  “I never asked her, Ray.”

  Silence.

  “But her sister’s here tonight. She may wonder why I’m asking but I could get the address from her.”

  “You’ll either have to lie your way through some awkward bullshit or tell her the truth and open up a whole can of panic we don’t want. I don’t like either choice.”

  Sean closed his eyes, trying to think of another way. “Wait!” he cried out. “Jenny told me that Elliot has the mailing addresses of everyone that donates stuff here and she’s done it a few times. He’ll have it in his records somewhere.”

  “That’s better, but we’ll obviously have to tell him this in private.”

  Sean opened his door. “Meet me at the entrance.”

  “No,” he answered, “I shouldn’t be seen. Bring him to my car so we can talk without people around. I’m in the southeast section of the lot. When I see you, I’ll flash my lights. The one thing I’ll do now is get Claybourne’s car and license plate information to notify patrol units. Maybe we’ll get lucky that way.”

  Sean hurried back through the entrance
and stood by the silent auction table, scanning the grounds for Elliot. Seeing the Michaels family approaching, with Jason cradling Kayleigh against his chest, he felt trapped, knowing any time spent talking with them could literally be a life or death difference for Jenny.

  “Kayleigh’s hit the wall,” Stephanie said. “But we had a great time, Sean, and she loved listening to you. Thanks.”

  Sean looked at Kayleigh, giving him a weak smile and wave.

  “Good...good,” he said. After a high-five slap with Randy, he approached Kayleigh and repeated the same motion, offering a soft hand-to-hand touch instead. “I’ve got to go talk to Elliot, but I’ll see you tomorrow for your lesson, okay?”

  With a single nod of acknowledgment, Kayleigh’s eyes fluttered, struggling to remain open.

  “She hasn’t skipped a day of practice since you gave her that guitar,” Stephanie told him.

  First turning his right thumb upward, Sean waved goodbye and started walking away before stopping, wheeling around, and hurrying back. “Hey, Stephanie,” he called out, catching up to them, “did Jenny tell you we saw each other here this week? She brought in some things to donate and I spotted her in the parking lot.”

  “I haven’t talked to her since sometime last week,” she answered. “Between a new work project she’s taken on and moving into a new apartment, I know she’s been pretty busy.”

  “Yeah, she told me she’s moving,” he replied. “Have you seen the place?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Well, hopefully she’s not moving too far. I know how fond Kayleigh is of her Aunt Jenny.”

  “Fortunately, it’s not much of a move at all,” Stephanie said. “It’s just a few blocks from where she’s been living.”

  “We’ve gotta go, Steph,” Jason said.

  As they walked away, Sean whispered a curse before voicing to himself what he should have asked: “A few blocks from where she’s been living? Where was that, Stephanie?”