Blood Orange

by Karen Keskinen

  “Please. No more cases involving four-legged creatures. My life’s absurd enough as it is.”

  “I don’t know about no absurd. But Mrs. Richter, she’s gonna drop by this morning to thank you, she said. She’s so, so happy she got her dog back.”

  “Then you better get that tally sheet ready.” I retreated to the kitchen and picked up the next photo in the stack.

  “OK, you’re the boss,” Gabi called loudly. I heard something thump down hard on the desk.

  Five minutes later she entered the kitchen. “OK, here’s—Dios mío!” Her hand fell open and a sheet of paper, forgotten, fluttered to the floor. “No. Oh no.”

  “Gabi, I’m so sorry. I should have warned you.”

  “I didn’t—didn’t—those pictures are so horrible.”

  I slipped a hand under her elbow. “Take it easy. Let’s go outside.”

  “No. I won’t be a baby.” She drew a shaky breath, then tugged a tissue from her pocket and blew. “I—I thought this investigating business might be kinda fun, but it’s not, it’s just … just…”

  “Sometimes it’s fun. Sometimes it’s terribly sad.”

  “Oh my, that poor girl!” Standing in the kitchenette doorway was Darlene Richter, holding a large gourmet gift basket in her arms. Sitting prettily at her feet and wearing a turquoise-blue rhinestone-studded collar was none other than Minuet.

  I found my voice after a lengthy moment. “Hello, Mrs. Richter. It wasn’t necessary for you to come by.”

  “I realize that.” She held forth the grand basket. “Minnie and I just wanted to let you know how much we appreciated your help.”

  “Thanks.” Gabi jumped to her feet. “Here, I’ll just set it on the table.”

  “What a terrible shame.” Darlene Richter was staring again at the photos of Lili, and hardly seemed to notice as Gabi took the basket from her hands.

  “Mrs. Richter, let’s go into the other room, shall we?” I bent down and picked up the tally sheet from the floor. “I have a refund for you.”

  “A refund?” The woman still seemed unable to tear her eyes from the photos.

  “If you please,” I said firmly, “the other room.”

  I didn’t invite Darlene Richter to sit in the client’s chair. Shamelessly, I sat there myself, effectively leaving her no option but to stand. “I asked my assistant to total up our expenses on your account.” I glanced at the page. “Your refund totals eight thousand and twenty-one dollars.”

  “No, Ms. Zarlin.” Darlene smoothed her blond weave off her cheek. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re even.”

  “Maybe you think so. The thing is, Mrs. Richter, there’s a little boy who doesn’t see it that way.” I tried the filing cabinet and found it locked. “Gabi, would you please open this damn thing and get me the checkbook?”

  “What my boss really means,” Gabi said, stepping forward, “is that—”

  “I know perfectly well what your boss means.” Darlene Richter’s green eyes snapped. “Don’t bother, I don’t want your check. The two of you can use the money to go out and buy yourselves some new clothes.”

  Gabi gasped. “My boss Mrs. Victoria Terbell gave me this outfit. She bought it at Saks and only wore it two times, one time to—”

  But Darlene Richter had turned away. “You know, I had something to tell you just now, Ms. Zarlin,” she said as she opened the screen door. “But on second thought—”

  The door banged shut after the woman and her dog. She turned and scowled through the screen. “On second thought, you can just go to hell.” She ran a fingertip along the edge of the frame.

  “This door is filthy. What’s your name—Gabi? If I were your boss, I’d have you sacked.”

  “I’m not a cleaner when I’m here,” Gabi yelped. “I’m a PA!”

  “Oh, and by the way. Victoria Terbell? She’s well known for her taste—the absolute worst in town.”

  So Darlene Richter had something to tell me. What, something about Lili’s murder? It wasn’t likely that it amounted to much. On the other hand, to be honest, I needed all the help I could get.

  But by the time I’d squelched my pride and made it out to the street, Minuet and her mistress were gone.

  * * *

  By the end of the day, I needed to unwind. My two confidants were happy to assist.

  “Sangria. Best damn thing to come outta the sixties,” Mike mused.

  I sat down in the chair I’d carried in from the kitchen, and twirled the stem of my wineglass between my finger and thumb. “You know, I was thinking about what you said the other day, Mike. You were right: I need to share more. If something happens to me, no one will know what I’ve figured out so far.”

  “Knock on wood!” Gabi scolded as she tapped on the desk. “Nothing will happen to you, don’t say stuff like that.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen if you’re careful,” Mike added. “But I want to hear it, so share.”

  “Where should I start?”

  “Let’s start with Dex.” Mike leaned back in the Craigslist recliner. “The attack on your dog was a warning, Jaymie. That’s one thing we can be sure of: Lili’s killer attacked him.”

  “It was a warning,” I agreed. “And the person who butchered Dexter could be the killer. Or…” I took a deep breath. The sweet creamy scent of a nearby tobira bush was wafting in through the open window.

  “Or?” Gabi prompted.

  “Or, the killer could have manipulated somebody else into doing his dirty work.”

  “I guess that’s possible.” Mike leaned forward, balanced a smoked oyster on a cracker, and topped it with a chunk of cheddar. “But why look for a complicated answer when we’ve got a simple one that works?”

  “I gotta agree with Mike.” Gabi sipped her glass of the bloodred sangria. “Why wouldn’t the murderer just do it all by himself? Safer for him that way.”

  “Because everything’s layered with this guy. Don’t you see? Nothing’s straightforward, and that’s how he wants it. Complications make him feel safe.” I got to my feet and paced to the door and back.

  “Look, here’s the bottom line. I’m pretty sure the killer was an insider who planned to make it look like a passing stranger raped and killed Lili. When he realized Danny was in the building, he changed his strategy on the spur of the moment. He saw a better option, the opportunity to make the crime look like a psychotic act.”

  “He did a damn good job of it. The cops aren’t looking past Danny Armenta. I hear the trial date’s going to be set by the end of the week.”

  “Why can’t they just admit the obvious? Lili’s murder was fueled by cold and calculated fury.” I dropped down in the chair again, tipped back my head, and stared at the cracks in the plaster ceiling.

  “But you know what?” Gabi said quietly. “I don’t see how Lili could’ve made anybody that mad.”

  “I’ve asked myself that too,” I admitted. “Maybe she stood up for herself, you know? Maybe she resisted, and her resistance brought on the killer’s rage.”

  “Well, I’m still stuck on the question of how Lili got to the Guild warehouse in the first place.” Mike shrugged. “Until we—”

  “Oh. That’s one of the things I wanted to tell you,” I interrupted. “I found out how Lili got there: Jared Crowley gave her a lift.”

  “What! How the hell did you figure that out?”

  “Through Shawna Sprague, Jared’s girlfriend. Look, I realize this seems to put Jared in the center of the picture, Mike. But I still have my doubts. For one thing, I know for a fact he dropped Lili off and went straight back to the park. There just wasn’t time for him to have done all the things the killer did.”

  “What the hell, I’ll play along for a minute. Who looks better for it than Crowley?”

  “Wish I could tell you. Everybody has an alibi.”

  “Let’s take a look at your suspects.” Mike got up and went to the kitchenette doorway. “I see Stellato, Frayne, Wiederkehr—powerful men in this town.
You know what they say: power corrupts. Then there’s the one my money’s on, that squirmy little asshole Crowley.” Mike paused. “Now, that last one—Stellato’s son, right? What’s he doing up there?”

  “Lance Stellato coerced Lili Molina into having sex about a year and a half ago.”

  “Oh no,” Gabi gasped.

  “The hell he did! I’ll see he’s arrested for that if nothing else. He—”

  “Mike, no. He’d just claim it was consensual, and you’d never get a conviction. We have to stay focused on finding Lili’s killer.”

  “Yeah, well, that kid’s got a motive if ever I’ve seen one.” Mike folded his arms and leaned against the door frame. “What else’ve you been keeping quiet about?”

  “There might be something, as a matter of fact. Those interviews the cops conducted, Mike? I need to listen to the actual audio recordings.”

  “We’ve been over this before. Come on, Jaymie. You know I can’t do that.”

  “Just listen and I’ll explain,” I pleaded. “Danny’s improving, right? He’s stayed on his meds, thank God, and he’s beginning to move past the trauma. Last night he talked to me, just a little, about what happened that afternoon.”

  Gabi set down her glass and leaned forward. “Did my nephew hear something?”

  “Yes. Danny heard the killer’s voice. He went down to the dressing room because a man called out his name.” I reached for my pack and took out my spiral notebook, then thumbed through the pages.

  Somebody called me … a man. It wasn’t a kid, it was a man. He had a real weird voice. He said, “Danny, come here. Lili needs you to help her.”

  I held up a hand. “Now let me read it again, in the voice Danny used.” I dropped my own voice a couple of octaves: “Danny, come here. Lili needs you to help her.”

  Gabi half rose in her chair. “Mike, you gotta get those recordings for her. It’s crucial evidence!”

  “No, it’s not evidence. But yeah, it could be important.” Mike walked over and set his empty glass on the desk. “Jaymie, like I said, I’m not handing anything over to you. I’ll look into it myself. Now, you need to keep this latest development under your hat.”

  “But I want people to know about this, Mike. I want you and Gabi to tell people Danny’s coming around, remembering things. That’s what I’m going to do.” I gave him a wicked little smile. “Tell Officer Krause. She’ll spread the word, and I guarantee she’ll love you for the tip.”

  Mike didn’t bite. “You’ve got some theory about flushing out the killer, huh? Like he’s a coyote or something.”

  “Yep, something like that. If the killer thinks Danny might ID him, he could make a move and show his hand. Otherwise, he’ll just hole up till the trail’s cold. See what I mean?”

  “What I see is you waving a big red flag. Why do you think your dog’s at the vet, for Chrissake?” He stabbed a finger in my direction. “The coyote knows you’re the chicken that’s scratching up a cloud of dust.”

  “Tell you what. No coyote should underestimate this chicken.”

  “There you go. Just what a coyote loves: an overconfident chick.”

  * * *

  I biked home, then helped myself to a serving of melt-in-your-mouth chili rellenos. At dusk, Chuy and Aricela and I moseyed down to the beach, where the kids filled my pockets with damp sandy treasures. Later I chatted with Alma and then went to bed, just as a nearly full summer moon nudged over the lip of the Pacific.

  I didn’t see Danny that evening. I could have knocked on his door, but I didn’t. It crossed my mind, and I decided not to bother him. I reasoned he’d come out if he wanted company. But maybe, because I was tired, I just couldn’t be bothered.

  If I’d knocked on his door, it might have changed things. We’d have talked for a bit, or Danny might have stepped out, played a little with his brother and sister. Later, he might not have felt the urge to go out. He might have stayed home that night … stayed safe.

  If only. If only I had.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It’s better to walk in the dark, Danny thinks. It’s quiet at night, most of the people are inside their houses. In the daytime he doesn’t go out, it’s too crazy out there. Santa Barbara is dangerous, man.

  He used to go out with Joey and Eric, sometimes Victor too. They were safe together, they weren’t afraid of nothing. They used to go to the 7-Eleven. That’s where all the homeless guys and the winos hang out, but it was cool. He doesn’t know why, but his friends don’t wanna go out no more—they don’t wanna do nothing. Joey and Victor have jobs, maybe that’s why. Eric, he says … he says he doesn’t wanna hang no more, he doesn’t want—

  Whoa—that guy over there, he’s following. What does he want? Maybe the guy’s after him. But maybe it’s what they told him about, that paranoid thing. Just keep walking, move on.… OK, the guy went the other way. He’s not following now.

  Yeah. It’s better at night. If you walk fast and don’t stop, nobody bothers you. But you have to keep moving, that’s for sure.

  Last night or maybe another night he walked out on the wharf, out to the end. The moon was almost full. He’s gonna go to the wharf again, walk out to the end like he did before, then turn around and head back.

  One good thing: he likes his new place. He never had a room all by himself before. He can sleep whenever he wants and nobody bothers him. Jaymie’s nice. He hopes they get to stay with her for a really long time.

  OK, stepping onto the wharf. The big rough boards under his feet. Not boards, more like square telephone poles. You have to wear shoes. He remembers one time when he was little—hey, it’s that same guy. Is he following? He remembers one time—it’s OK, the guy’s gone, he just went to piss over the side.

  He remembers one time when him and his primo, when they were little they ran out on the wharf in their bare feet. They both got bad splinters, Eddie got his pulled out at Emergency. Danny’s mom pulled his out, and it really hurt.…

  Past the ice cream store. They used to hang out there, it was fun. When there weren’t any tourists around, Brittany Lopez used to give him free ice cream in a cup. She really liked him. Maybe if he went in there now, maybe she’d … Last time he went in, that was after, after he dropped out of school, she wouldn’t really look at him. Then Brittany whispered to the other girl and the girl said he had to leave right away.

  Look at the moon, how big it is. One corner’s missing, so yeah, it’s still not full. Look how there’s a path on the water, not silver but gold, it looks like you could walk on it. Now the wind’s ruffling up the waves, so it looks like a gold chain. He could paint that.… Hey, did he hear something?

  The Voices, they went away when he started the meds. But they could come back anytime. They never really went away, if you listened really hard, you could hear—

  “Danny.”

  Jesus. Jesus!

  “Over here, Danny.”

  That voice, he remembers!

  “Danny.”

  He spins around fast, tries to—tries to run, but the man’s faster. He pushes Danny hard with both hands on his chest and he’s falling. His back crunches on the edge of the dock, he twists and grabs the planks but the man stomps on his hand, so hard he

  SCREAMS

  FALLS

  COLD

  PLEASE HELP ME PLEASE

  CLAWS to the … CLAWS to the …

  Fights to get up to the—get up to the—

  so cold down here …

  Can’t … can’t … can’t …

  can’t

  * * *

  “So sorry to wake you,” Deirdre’s voice purred in Mike’s ear.

  He moved his cell a few inches away. For a moment there, he’d thought the woman was in bed with him.

  “Deirdre? What the hell time is it?”

  “Five forty A.M. Something’s happened, Michael. Something I know you’ll want to hear about right away.”

  She sounded almost eager. And that meant something was wrong.
r />   “Hold on a minute.” He returned his cell to the nightstand, sat up on the edge of the bed, and rubbed his face hard.

  “OK,” he said after a minute. “Shoot.”

  “Danny Armenta. You know, the Mexican guy who murdered the girl?”

  Mike tensed. “I know who you’re talking about.”

  “Well, he’s dead. He drowned himself. A jogger found the body on the beach, maybe twenty minutes ago.”

  Now Mike was wide awake, so awake he nearly bolted for the door. “Where, Deirdre? Where.”

  “Hey, take it easy. East Beach, near the volleyball courts. Looks like he jumped off the wharf in the night.”

  “Christ. Is the body still there?”

  “Yeah. Forensics just arrived. And we need to get it off the beach before some family on vacation decides to take an early-morning stroll. I’m getting dressed and heading on over.” She made her last statement in a low confiding tone, as if she were suggesting he might want to come over and dress her himself.

  “Deirdre, hold on. Have you informed the next of kin?”

  “Not yet. I’ll go around myself, after I’ve looked at the body. I—”

  “No!” Mike reminded himself to calm down, and took a slow breath. You couldn’t move Deirdre Krause by pushing her, he knew that. Only sugar would work.

  “I’ll take care of that, Deirdre. You need to be there at the scene. Armenta was a prime suspect in a murder investigation. This has to be done by the book, no loose ends.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She sounded flattered. “Michael, I’ve got to run. Will I see you down at the beach?”

  “Count on it.”

  “Good. And again, sorry I had to wake you up. I can just imagine how cozy you were.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mike parked his truck on Cliff and trudged up El Balcón. The day promised to be warm: already the sun blazed, and the blue waves flashed like mirror shards.

  When he got up to the top of the hill, he turned and looked back across the harbor. He could see a tiny patch of green at the far end of East Beach. That would be the canvas awning forensics had placed over the body.

  His cell rang and he jumped. Mike glanced at it: Deirdre again. He switched it off and slipped it back in his pocket. He had to take care of this now, or the bad news would be delivered by Krause. He headed for the house.