“What is it?”
“Remember I told you Danny said he went back to the dressing room because a man’s voice called him? I told you he made it sound hollow and deep when he mimicked it, kind of like an announcer’s voice.”
“I remember.”
“Later on, I thought of something I’d noticed in the dressing room.”
Mike fixed me with his sheriff’s stare. “What was that?”
“An old-fashioned megaphone. It had been tipped out of the prop bin.”
“You’re thinking somebody should check the mouthpiece for DNA.”
“It’s worth a shot. The killer could have grabbed the megaphone on the spur of the moment, and not thought about wiping it off later.”
“I’ll call forensics first thing in the morning,” Mike replied. “They already picked up the bootlace and confirmed it was dipped in Lili’s blood, by the way. They’re going to wonder why I’m taking such an interest.”
“You’ll think of something to tell them, Mike.” I shoved back my chair and stood. “Anyway. It’s not my concern, not anymore.”
“I can’t believe you’re talking like that.” Mike drained his own bottle. “Say, where’s the El Camino?”
“Gone to a new owner.”
“What? You sold Brodie’s car?”
“No, I’d never do that. I donated it to the homeless shelter,” I said in a small voice. “They’ll sell it and use the cash. That way Brodie’s car will do someone some good.”
“So, what, you’re leaving town on foot?”
“I’m leasing a car, starting tomorrow.”
“I don’t know what to say. Brodie loved that car.”
I leaned over the stone wall, into the night. I could smell the ocean, the peculiar and pleasant blend of brine and tar characteristic of the Santa Barbara Channel. “I might as well tell you, Mike. I’m not waiting for the house to sell. I’m moving out next week, putting my stuff in storage, and closing down the agency.” Far below, a car alarm began to sound.
“Jaymie. Don’t do it.” Mike’s voice had turned flat and hard.
“I have to get away from all this. I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” He stood and kicked the chair away with his foot. “You know I love you. I’ve told you every damn way I can think of! Why do I stick around? Because I’m pretty damn sure you love me too. I don’t see it all the time—you make sure of that. But you slip up now and then.”
My eyes stung with tears I refused to release. “Mike, you and I—it’s not possible.”
“I just don’t get it! What is the problem?”
I left the patio and headed back to the studio, where I’d spent the afternoon curled up on Danny’s bed. I tried to close the door after me, but Mike pushed his way in. “Jaymie, for fuck’s sake, tell me! I’ve got a right to know.”
“OK, fine! Remember that night at the ranch?” I heard myself snarling like a cornered cat. “Up on the ridge?”
“I remember.”
“You were thinking about us having a kid—I know you were.”
“I thought about it, that’s all. One day in the future, you know?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.…” But then, I shut my mouth. In spite of my decision to leave town, I didn’t think I could bear to never see Mike again. That wasn’t part of my plan.
“Say it, Jaymie. I’m fed up with guessing.”
I felt myself cave in. “I don’t want to have children. Not with you or anyone. I’m just no good at caring for others.”
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t say that. Wouldn’t think that!” The color drained from Mike’s face. “Do you love me? Answer me, damn it to hell!”
“I—” Suddenly, I was mute. My mouth gaped open like the mouth of a beached fish.
After a moment, he turned his back on me and walked out the door.
Loneliness slipped into the studio. Loneliness—and a kind of relief. What I’d said to Mike was true, but there was more, further back, deeper inside me. Thank God I didn’t have to go there now.
An hour later Mike sent me a text: I’ll pick up the dog from the vet’s when he’s ready. You’re right about one thing—he’s safer with me.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, I stumbled up the office steps carrying an armload of knocked-down boxes.
“Miss Jaymie! At last you’re here. You—”
“Gabi, can’t you see my arms are full?” I peered at her through the screen door.
“Sorry!” Gabi squeezed past me to hold the door open. “What’s all this?”
I sidled in and leaned the boxes against the wall. “I’ve got more out in the car. Be right back.”
“Wait, this looks like—like moving day.”
“Be right back,” I repeated.
By the time I’d retrieved the rest of the boxes from the rented Honda and returned, Gabi had the coffeepot on. Two plump pastries, oozing with chocolate, rested on two pink Fiesta ware plates.
“Miss Jaymie, let’s please sit down right now, OK?”
We faced each other across the big desk, Gabi in the command position (she had a new favorite book, Feng Shui for Sure) and me in the hot seat, as Gabi had taken to calling the visitor’s chair.
“You haven’t been in for five days. I’m so glad you’re here, ’cause two new people already called. One was—”
“Gabi.” I set my pink cup in its pink saucer.
“Miss Jaymie, before you say anything—”
“Gabi? Me first.”
She dropped her head in defeat. “You’re the boss.”
“If you say so.” I smiled a little. “You’re a great PA. It’s what you were born to be, and I’m going to help you find another position. Because—”
“Now I’m going to interrupt you for sure!” Gabi jumped to her feet, nearly upsetting her coffee. “I got no papers, you know that. Cleaner, dishwasher, campesina. That’s what I was born to be!”
Now it was my turn to study the floor.
“I never thought you were a quitter, Miss Jaymie. Other people, never you.” The silence swelled.
“People are dying,” I finally said. “They’re dying because of me. First my brother. Now Danny. Even my dog nearly died. I need to back off and mind my own business.”
“Miss Jaymie, I got something to say. First, a dog is a dog. And anyway, it survived. And then…” Gabi obviously didn’t know what else to say after that.
“Yeah, the dog survived. Minus a leg.” I shook my head. “Let’s face it, I’m not much of an investigator. I get too involved.”
“You get involved, all right.” Gabi pushed her cup away. “’Cause you’re human, you know? And worse, you’re a woman.”
A lump formed in my throat. But the last thing I wanted to do was to feel sorry for myself.
“Please, I’m begging you,” Gabi persisted. “Wait a little while, OK? You got new customers, more business coming in—”
“I’ve already given written notice to the rental agency. I’m sorry, Gabi, but we’re out in less than three weeks. I plan on leaving sooner than that, but you can suit yourself. Would you hand me the checkbook, please, and a pen?”
Moving in slow motion, Gabi unlocked the top desk drawer with a key on her ring and removed a smaller key. She used that key to open the filing cabinet, then removed a locked security box. “This is a really good system I invented. But what does it matter now?” She unlocked the security box with a key she removed from a magnetic key-keeper stuck under the cabinet drawer, and opened it. Finally, she slid the checkbook across the desk.
I wrote out a check in silence, ripped it from the book, and handed it to her.
“Five thousand dollars,” Gabi squeaked. “Made out to me?”
“Your half of the retainer from Mrs. Richter. Another case I botched, by the way. The rich bitch got her dog back and the little boy is lonely again.”
“No. You can’t give me this.”
“Why not? I wouldn’t have gotten i
t in the first place if it wasn’t for you.”
Gabi bit her lip and stared at me. I could see she was thinking.
“OK, I accept. Thank you.” She started to say something more, then abruptly closed her mouth and dropped the check in her bag.
* * *
Already, the little house on El Balcón didn’t seem like mine anymore. The same mellow evening sun glazed the kitchen window in smoked gold, the same vinegar tang from the ocean drifted in through the open back door. But except for a few sticks of furniture, the small rooms were stripped bare of all that belonged to me.
I dropped down onto a kitchen chair, folded my arms on the table, and rested my head. I’d worked hard all day packing my life away—and Brodie’s life, too.
The van was coming in the morning at 7:00 A.M. sharp, to transport the stacked boxes to a storage facility. I was shedding my identity, the way a snake wriggles out of its tattered old skin. The new rattler would turn in the Honda for an RV and hit the road, heading who knew where.
I pushed away worries about gainful employment. I could always get a job writing meaningless newsletters or sending out urgent bulletins about tiny bugs, as I’d done for the grape growers. I’d been pretty good at that.
My eyelids felt heavy. A fly buzzed at the glass, seeking a way out into the declining day.
I must have fallen asleep. When I jerked awake, it was twilight. I raised my head and listened: I could hear a clanking of gears. Something—too big for a car, too small for a truck—was laboring up the drive.
I went to the front door and opened it. An ancient Vee-Dub van, painted white and glowing like the moon in the semi-dark, nosed over the rise.
In the driver’s seat was a disturbing apparition. The body was draped in a sack-like garment, and a dark hood covered its head. Two eye holes were cut in the shroud, and the holes turned to meet my gaze.
Charlie and Annie.
The van pulled up, and clunked and sighed to a stop. I descended the steps and walked up to the open window. “Charlie?”
“Come for my horehounds,” the voice rasped. “Last chance, I hear.”
My eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Only be sorry if you planned on runnin’ off without saying good-bye.”
“Sorry, no horehounds.” Now I was crying for real.
He extended his scarred hand through the window. “Take it easy, Jaymie. Take it slow.”
I took his hand in my own. It felt like a leather garden glove, all rough ridges and bands. “Charlie, do you want to come in?”
“No thank you, Jaymie girl.” He chuckled. “As they say, I don’t get out much.”
I smiled back at the hood, then looked away.
“So what’s this I hear about you ditchin’ town?”
I couldn’t ever lie to Charlie. It would be like lying at the pearly gates. “I’m slinking away,” I admitted. “Leaving the scene of the crime, in more ways than one.”
“Hmm.” In Charlie’s scarred throat, this syllable sounded like the rumble of distant thunder. “Like I always say, Jaymie, deep down you know what’s best.”
In the silence, the foghorn sounded: a heavy fog bank advanced on the coast.
“Just stopped by to say we’ll miss you, Annie and me. Been an honor.”
“No, Charlie. The honor was all mine.”
He waved my words away. “Now, you’re sure about this? Sure you’re doing what you know’s best? Annie wants me to ask you straight out, just to be double sure.”
“It’s best all the way around.”
“Right then, Jaymie. You know your own self.” The twin black pools glittered. “Until our paths cross again, may your way be smooth.”
“Charlie, wait. I need you to understand.” I reached in and grasped his shoulder, so bony and thin beneath the sacking. “What good am I to anyone? I have to let go, leave it behind.”
“Not possible, Jaymie. The past is part of you, all the good and the bad mixed in. You’ll never leave it behind, not none of it.” Gently, he removed my hand from his shoulder and held it. “We gotta be brave. We gotta keep plugging away, face our mistakes. That’s all there is to it.”
When the Great American Novel had dipped down the drive and disappeared from sight, I went inside and shut the door.
I poured myself a glass of velvet-red wine and wandered back outside to stand in the flower-and-ocean-perfumed night. As I sipped the elixir, a cricket sang its heart out and rats skittered in the brush covering the bank.
Without warning, the big white owl swooped out of the blackness and landed at the very top of the cypress. I held still as the rodents fell silent and the tree branch bowed a little under the exquisite weight of the bird.
Then I drank all the wine so it wouldn’t be wasted, pouring the sacred sweetness down my throat and pressing my mouth to my sleeve. When I looked up, I saw the heart-shaped face looking down on me.
“Forgive me,” I whispered. “I gave up, but it won’t happen again.”
I went inside and started unpacking.
* * *
Humpty Dumpty was going back together, but he wouldn’t look quite the way he had before the great fall.
I tried not to fret about Mike. He’d sent me another text stating he’d collected Dexter and paid half the hefty vet bill, and that was the last I’d heard from him. I knew he was furious with me. But I’d been honest with the guy, hadn’t I? What he did now was his call.
Tiff Tang was philosophical about the loss of a potential commission, and ripped up the contract. But the El Camino was another story. I contacted the homeless shelter and offered to buy Brodie’s car back, but they’d already sold it. The new owner, a sixties guy with a booming voice, remained firm on the phone. “She’s a great little ride, and now the deal’s done, I don’t mind telling you Dudette was a steal. These babies are hot down here in Laguna Beach.” His laugh was a snortle. “Guess the sellers weren’t so up on what’s cool.”
“No, I guess not.” I sighed. “So there’s no way I could persuade you to sell—Dudette—back to me?”
“Try me in a year or two, sweetheart.” He snortled again. “That’s about how long it takes me to wear out my girlfriends, know what I mean?”
The rental agency witch sneered a similar song. “I’m sorry, Ms. Zarlin, but your office suite has already been leased. We do have a refund check waiting for you, your deposit money—minus the cleaning fee, of course. Plus we had to do some repairs on the unit, so I’m afraid…” I held the phone out from my ear: the woman’s staccato sounded like bubble wrap popping.
I thought longingly of my office kitchen, swirling with the perfumes of strong coffee and Mexican pastry. “I’d like to talk to the new tenants. Who are they?” Meaning, maybe I’d convince them to change their minds. I could describe the termite clouds, the general air of decay, and the angry women and men who stormed in and out of the repo business next door.
“It would be unethical of me to reveal that information,” Ms. Kraft said starchily.
“I get it. You raised the rent.”
“In fact, no. The market would not sustain that at present. But the new tenant did pay six months in advance.”
“Whatever,” I huffed. “But don’t allow him to move in even five minutes before the end of the month, or I’ll toss him out on his ear.”
* * *
But changes had already begun in my absence, I realized as I wheeled my bike into the bungalow court.
My screen door was spray-painted pink. The solid door, now a purplish-blue, was open halfway. Indignant, I prepared myself to do battle. The new tenant had moved in early, just as I’d suspected he might.
I propped up the bike on its kickstand, yanked back the squealing screen door, and took a bellicose step inside.
What—was I dreaming? Within, all seemed business as usual: a delicious aroma welcomed me, and Gabi appeared in the kitchen doorway with a laden tray in her hands.
“Miss Jaymie! I was so happy to hea
r your message, that you would come in today. I got your favorite pastries to celebrate. How do you like the doors?”
“Very nice,” I said faintly. Looking past Gabi, I could see the kitchen was also transformed.
“Popsicle Pink and Plum Purple. Let’s sit down at your table! I haven’t painted the front room yet, next weekend maybe. I got lotsa paint. My prima’s brother-in-law is a painter, he had some left over and gave me a good deal.”
“Let’s … sit out here in the office, shall we?”
“Uh-oh, a little too bright? Mexicans like bright colors. Pink and purple are my personal favorites,” Gabi added unnecessarily. She stepped forward and set the tray on the desk.
“You know, it’s very exciting for me.” She smoothed her paint-speckled hands down her thighs. “I always wanted my own office. My very own!”
My mouth fell open. “Are you—you’re not—”
“Yes! I’m the new tenant. I used the check you gave me, the money from Mrs. Richter, you know?” She sat down in the command chair behind the desk. I observed that a newfound dignity had entered her bearing.
“I thought maybe I’d run my cleaning business out of here. Hire one or two people. And I got a new name: Sparkleberry Cleaning Service.”
“That’s very—nice.” I dropped into the hot seat, so appropriately named.
“It is, isn’t it? Sparkle, you know, cause everything’s so clean? And berry, ’cause of my favorite colors.” Bright-eyed, she studied me over the rim of her cup. “Miss Jaymie, listen. I got this idea. It’s against the contract, but who cares. Do you want to sublet from me? Cause something is telling me you’re gonna stay.”
I sputtered the coffee. “You mean share an office with—Sparkleberry?”
“Sure. Look at it this way.” Gabi beamed. “Your rent will be half what it used to be. I’ll still be your PA for free. And your office will always sparkle! That’s what they call a win-win.”
“I’m just not sure the two businesses are—uh—compatible.”
“Oh they are, believe me. I clean people’s houses, and you clean up people’s problems.”
“Well, that’s a thought.” I cleared my throat. “One thing’s for sure: next time I’ll think twice about quitting.”
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