He gave me a conspiratorial wink. “Better off out of it when the girls are in a rush.” He crossed the room and held open the door to the outside. “Shall we?”
I could see why his patients doted on the guy. Dr. Bruce made you feel he truly wanted to help, wanted you to be every bit as happy as he knew you could be.
“I’m sorry,” he said pleasantly as we passed back through the garden. “My wife is terribly particular in what she serves to her guests. Didn’t your menu follow her instructions, my dear?”
“I’m not the caterer, Dr. Wiederkehr.” I halted and turned to the gangly man. I noticed Sarah had inherited her unfortunate chin from her dad. “I’m a private investigator.”
“You’re—what?” He withdrew his warm hand from my shoulder. “But how did you—”
“Get inside your house?” I smiled engagingly. “Actually, Celeste Delaney called your wife for me. Don’t worry, I’m not here to investigate your family, Doctor. It’s just the solstice party I need to know more about.”
“Celeste—that old crow.” Dr. Bruce laughed, and his Adam’s apple, which was large and pointed, bobbed nervously. “Well, you’ve explained it. Nobody dares turn down her requests, not even Cynthia.” He beamed. “But please, don’t tell Celeste I called her an old crow. I’d be socially dead in this town if she heard.”
I smiled and played along. “She is kind of scary. And she’s going to be very annoyed with me if I don’t ask my questions.”
“Go right ahead then, ask away,” Dr. Bruce said in his best bedside manner. “But first tell me, why is Celeste even interested in that sad business? Just between you and me, she isn’t what you’d call the caring sort.”
I turned what I hoped were guileless eyes upon Dr. Bruce. Two could play at his game, after all. “I wish I could tell you. But she’s kind of secretive. Personal reasons, I guess.”
“Celeste Delaney does play her cards close to her chest. Just when you haven’t heard from her for ages and—sorry to say it—you think she might be dead, well, that’s when she pops up.” He smiled, rested his hand again on my shoulder, and squeezed. “Why don’t we walk on toward the gate, Jaymie? I’m in no hurry, I just think it might be best if Cynthia sees you’re gone. At times she can be a little…”
“Jealous?” I asked innocently.
“Jealous?” The affable mask slipped just a little. “No, edgy was what I was about to say.” His hand slipped to my shoulder blade and applied forward pressure.
The good doctor had only one goal, and that was to send me packing. It was now or never. “About your party, Doctor. You host it every year?”
“Oh yes.” He actually chortled. “In the old days, the party was hosted by both active and retired members of the Triune. Why, even Cynthia’s father once held Solstice Rising. The name is rather pretentious, but that’s what we’ve always called our private shindig, you know. My own father held the record for the most number of hostings, and by now I’m a close second. This property, which I inherited from him, is what you might call the perfect party pad.”
“It’s no small pad, Dr. Wiederkehr. So your wife’s father was a member of the Triune?”
“Yes. Caughey, the good old stick, they used to call him. Because he was such a—good sport.” Even Dr. Bruce heard the weakness of this comment, apparently. An awkward silence ensued.
“Well. Here we are, then.” He punched a code into a panel mounted on a stone pillar, and the copper gates swung soundlessly open.
I made a step forward, then stopped and turned back. “Oh! It’s been so nice talking with you that I forgot to ask my main question.”
The smile had already slid from Dr. Bruce’s face. I had to hand it to him: the guy tried his best to pin it back on.
“Well, go ahead then, Jaymie. But briefly, if you don’t mind.”
Time to stop being nice. And since he’d called me Jaymie, I’d follow suit. “I want to know about individual comings and goings at your party, Bruce. Particularly between two P.M. and four P.M.”
“Well, you have to understand, I was quite busy. I—”
“Vincent Stellato, for example.”
“Vince? Oh, that’s easy. Vince never left. He was here with Maryjune, of course, and his son, Lance.”
“You seem very sure.”
Dr. Bruce forced a laugh. “You know when Vince is around. Let’s just say he’s the life of the party.”
“I can imagine. How about Sutton Frayne? The Third,” I added, allowing myself a smidgeon of sarcasm.
Bruce decided to try on a glower. “You know, it sounds as if you’re checking my friends’ alibis. That’s ridiculous. Besides, we all accounted for our movements with the police.”
“You don’t have to answer,” I said quietly. “It’s entirely up to you.”
“Oh, I don’t mind—anything for Celeste.” He shrugged his bony shoulders in an obvious attempt to seem nonchalant. “It’s just that it’s a waste of time. But for the record, let me be clear. Neither Vince nor Sutz left the party, as far as I’m aware.”
“And their family members?”
His voice remained calm. “Now you really are crossing a boundary, don’t you think?”
I had to hand it to the guy. He was playing the part of the uninvolved bystander to the hilt. Mr. Nothing to Hide.
Just then a car engine started up around the side of the mansion. Come on, Brucie, I thought. Answer the question, that’s all I ask.
“All right. Let me get this over with, once and for all. Frayne has no family of his own, except for his mother, Caroline, and Celeste, who I’m sure you know is his aunt. He brought Caroline along that day, though I don’t know why he bothered—the woman is practically gaga. To give her an outing, I suppose. I doubt Caroline moved out of her armchair the entire time she was here, and Sutz had to attend to her, off and on.”
“And the Stellatos?”
“Vince, Maryjune, and their son were here the entire time. As was I, by the way. And if you are silly enough to wonder about Cynthia or Sarah: they did not leave at any point. I recall Sarah playing tennis out in the back with Frayne. That went on for over an hour.” He smiled slightly. “I believe she thumped the old boy quite soundly.”
“Youth often wins out in the end, doesn’t it, Bruce?” A big gleaming white Lexus SUV curled around the drive and approached us. Princess Sarah on her way to golf.
It was pure instinct that prompted my next—and what I knew would be my last—question. “Speaking of the younger generation, how about Jared Crowley?”
The blood drained from the doctor’s face, and he put out a hand to the pillar to steady himself. “What does he … I don’t see what…”
I knew, of course, that Jared hadn’t attended the party. It was Bruce’s reaction I was after, and damn, had I scored.
“Dad, would you get out of the way? I’m in a hurry,” Sarah shouted out the car window. The Lexus blasted on through, riling up a snake cloud of dust.
Chapter Thirteen
“Can’t a man get a cuppa joe around here?” Mike grabbed the folding chair off the side of the ancient Vee-Dub and snapped it open.
A battered old drive-in restaurant tray emerged through the open window. “Fit this on here, will ya, Cowboy? Neuralgia’s acting up.”
Mike took the tray from the scar-gloved hand and wedged it into the door frame. “Sugar, Charlie, no cream.”
“My brains ain’t gone soft. I remember.”
Mike turned his chair to face the beach and flopped down in it. “What’s going on down here, Captain?”
“Can’t fool me, Mike. You’re a cop when you’re not being yourself. Nothin’s goin on here a-tall, and if it was, I wouldn’t tell ya.”
“Fair enough.” A chipped mug steaming with thick brew appeared on the tray, followed by a silver sugar bowl and spoon. “That bowl must’ve been Annie’s. Too fancy for an old coot like you.”
“That sugar bowl is Annie’s. Came from the Longstreet family, those sons-a-bitche
s.”
“Is. I stand corrected.” Mike swirled a spoonful of sugar into the mug.
“Say, saw your girlfriend not so long ago. She brought me horehounds, by the way.”
“Sorry I’m empty-handed. I’m not as nice as Jaymie. Guess you know that by now.”
“You and Jaymie are the yin and the yang. Annie thinks the same as me about you two.”
Mike settled back in the chair and sipped at the sludge. It was Tuesday, and there were no tourists in sight. A few locals ambled along the hard sand just above the waterline, their mutts rummaging through the seaweed wrack. Maybe a dealer was plying his trade in the caves under the bluff, but Mike couldn’t see it from where he sat.
“Actually, Charlie, it’s Jaymie I came to talk to you about.”
“Figured as much. Fine young filly. You won’t do better.”
“I know that. I’m stuck on her, I guess you could say. Just wish she was stuck on me.”
“Give it time, Cowboy. You’re the only one for her. She don’t completely know it yet, is all.” Charlie coughed harshly. “But you got somethin’ else to say, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Did you hear what happened to Jaymie’s dog?”
“I heard. Some people are worse than animals. No animal woulda done that. Dexter gonna pull through?”
“The little guy’s tougher’n shit,” Mike said. “The vet had to amputate his hind leg, but he’ll survive just fine.”
“Dex was Brodie’s bud. For Jaymie’s sake, I’m glad he’s gonna make it.” Charlie coughed again. It sounded painful this time, like the ripping of strong Velcro.
“Charlie? Here’s the thing. What happened to Dex was a warning. Jaymie’s too involved in the Molina case. She said she’d back off, but I know she won’t. I’m worried she’s going to get hurt.”
“Oh boy. You think the girl’s killer hurt Dex?”
“Most likely.” Mike got to his feet and thumped the empty mug down on the tray. “But Jaymie won’t listen to me. The more I say on the subject, the more she ignores me.”
“You know why.”
“Sure, I know. What happened to Brodie, she still blames herself.”
“Nothin’ to do with her. She did her best like always. It was a crime. A goddamn crime.”
“You said it.” Mike jammed his hands in his pockets. “She’s trying to make up for it by helping the Armenta kid—and by the way, I encouraged her in the beginning. Why won’t she get smart, though? This is evil she’s brushing up against now, pure evil.”
“Jaymie is smart, Mike. Smarter than the two of us put together. And she’s brave.” The scarred hand slipped through the curtain and closed, stiffly, around the empty cup. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s gotta be a couple of the things you love about her.”
“No comment, Chief. That’s kinda personal.”
“No comment necessary, Mike. No comment at all.”
Mike watched an angry gull chase a crow off the beach. The crow cruised off with the spoils, what looked to be a dead crab. “She dumped me, you know.”
“What’s that you say?”
“A couple of years back. Jaymie dumped me.”
“Didn’t know that, Cowboy. Thought the two of you were just takin’ a breather.”
Mike snorted. “Damn long breather, I’d say. It’s taken me all this time to stop being pissed.”
“Looks like the two of you decided to try it again.”
“Mainly me. I thought, well, Brodie’s been gone for a while now, you know? Maybe Brodie’s death was what was bothering her the first time around. I decided to give it another shot.”
“Yep,” Charlie rasped. “’Cause she’s worth it.”
“Yeah, that and the fact that no other woman seems to measure up. But I don’t know, Charlie … something’s still holding her back.” Mike got to his feet. “Like I said, though, it’s personal. I shouldn’t be talking about it, not even to you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I don’t go around flapping my lips in the breeze.”
“I know that. Thing is, I can’t wait forever. Life goes on, you know?”
“Life goes on,” Charlie rumbled, “like it or not.”
* * *
“Danny? It’s me, Jaymie.”
“And me!” Chuy pounded on the door with both hands.
“Not so loud, Chuy.” Danny was continuing to improve, to come back to himself. Even so, his vulnerability was still raw.
But when the door opened, Danny was actually smiling a little. “Hey, Chuy. I can hear you.”
Chuy pushed past his big brother and raced into the studio. “You got your own TV—lucky.”
The studio had acquired a lived-in look. Apparently Danny didn’t like to throw things away. His trash was stacked neatly on the small table—disposable plates and cups, even a small mound of chicken bones. And the pile of clothes in the corner was tidy enough, too. But it wouldn’t take many more days before the small space would be overwhelmed by Danny’s collections.
“Do you get Curious George on this TV?” Chuy asked.
“Probably,” Danny said. “What channel?”
“I think twelve. Or maybe ten.”
Danny picked up the remote from the bookshelf and handed it to his brother. “You try.” He glanced at me. “Dexter … is he back yet?”
“Not yet. Soon, though. The vet wants to keep him two or three more days. Maybe they’ll send him home on Saturday.”
“What … happened to him?” Danny looked confused. He’d asked the question before, and I carefully repeated my answer.
“Well, when Dexter wandered off, he got hit by a car. It’s sad, because I’m afraid he lost his back leg. But the vet says he’ll be OK. I went to visit him today, and he’s standing up. He’ll be running around on three legs in no time.”
Chuy had seated himself on the floor and was engrossed in a cartoon show. “Maybe a bad guy kidnapped Dexter, and took him up in a spaceship, and then Dexter pushed open the door with his paws and jumped out.”
“That’s a good story, Chuy, but it’s not what happened.”
“Maybe,” he replied.
“Danny, can we go outside for a minute? I want to ask you something.” It was time for me to speak seriously with him, and I didn’t want little Mr. Big Ears listening in.
It was evening, and just as we stepped out through the doorway, a large white shape lifted from a nearby cypress and drifted away like a slice of the moon.
“What—what was that?”
“A barn owl. So beautiful, and they’re good to have around—they keep down the rats.”
“Rats … we had rats at our other house.”
I nodded in the semi-dark. “Santa Barbara is full of rats.” I clasped my hands behind my back. “Danny, I want to ask you a question. I won’t talk very long, because it’s hard to think about. But there’s something I need to know.”
“O-OK.”
“It’s about the day Lili died. I know you didn’t do it, Danny. I’m trying to figure out who did.” I looked away, out over the darkening channel. The lights on the oil rigs twinkled like stars afloat on the water. “You said Lili came and said hi to you while you were drawing, and then she went off to the dressing room, right?”
“Uh-huh…” His voice was low and hesitant now, as if it required effort for him just to speak.
“OK. So tell me, why did you go down to the dressing room later on?”
“Somebody—somebody called me.”
I bent my head to hear him better. I didn’t want to step any closer, in case he felt threatened.
“Somebody called you? Did the person call out your name?”
“Yeah … he said my name.”
“Was it Lili? Did Lili call you?”
“Lili?” He shook his head stiffly. “No. It was a man.”
“OK, a man called your name. Did you recognize his voice? Was it somebody you already knew?”
“I don’t … think so.”
“A
re you sure? Could it have been Jared—Jared Crowley?”
“Jared?” Confusion crept into his expression once more. “It wasn’t a kid, it was a man. He had a real weird voice. He said it like this: Danny, come here. Lili needs you to help her.” Danny cupped his hands around his mouth and deepened his voice as he spoke the words.
“OK. Thanks, Danny. You’re doing good. I’m sorry for this last question, but I have to ask. Are you sure the voice was real? Not a voice in your head?”
“It was a real person, really loud. And…”
“Yes?”
“The voices I hear in my head? They’re real too.”
* * *
I tossed and turned through the night, grappling with the details surrounding Lili’s murder and the brutal attack on Dex. Finally, around 5:00 A.M., I tumbled into a deep sleep. At six thirty my alarm squawked in my ear. By the time I got to the office, my mood was what you’d call edgy.
“Good morning, Miss Jaymie,” my PA called out cheerily. “That was Señorita Darlene on the phone just now.”
“Morning,” I grunted. I walked through to the kitchen, opened my bag, and pulled out a dozen or so crime-scene photos I’d printed from the disc Celeste Delaney had given me. “Oh yeah? And what did the rich bitch want?”
“She said she’s coming around. Miss Jaymie? I don’t think I ever heard you use the b-word before, either.”
I taped the first photo to the wall. “Guess I’ve got a bigger vocabulary than you thought.” I stepped into the doorway and set my hands on my hips. “I’ve got a task for you, Gabi. Add up our expenses on the dognapping. Subtract them from ten thousand dollars and draw up a check, made out to Mommy Warbucks, for the difference.”
“Mommy who?”
“I’m talking about Darlene Richter.”
“Wh-what! Miss Jaymie, excuse me, but this is a business, remember. Since Mrs. Richter, only two new cases came in: the Kimuras, their son’s been missing for eight years and you’re not gonna find him tomorrow, and another missing dog.”
I grimaced. “You didn’t tell me about the dog.”
“I was gonna break it to you when the time was right. Word gets around, people hear how you found Minuet. You got opportunity knocking.”
Blood Orange Page 17