Crystal dumped four heaping teaspoonfuls of sugar into her cup and stirred. “He killed himself, didn’t he? Suicide?”
“No, that’s not true.” I set the cup down in the saucer. “Danny was murdered too. And my job is to figure out who killed them both.”
“OK. Hold your horses right there.” She waggled the spoon at me. “Look, I hate Vince with a passion, OK? But I gotta tell you, it wasn’t him, if that’s what you’re thinking. No way José.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, he’s nasty when it suits him.” She shrugged. “He’s mean to his poor little wifey and mean to me too, if I let him. It’s always Vinnie’s way or the highway. But.”
“But?”
“See, Vince would never kill anything. Too sentimental. I had this old cat that got hit by a car. I was ready to put Ziggy down, but not Vince. Oh no, he paid I don’t know how much to get that cat’s leg set and his shoulder stitched up. Course, Ziggy was so damn mad he pissed on everything from then on out, the couch, the bed, you name it. But Vince didn’t care.” She shook her head. “The man couldn’t kill a gopher, I swear to God.”
“OK, I hear you. But sometimes men kill after they rape, because they don’t want the woman to identify—”
“Stop right there. Rape? Not Vincent Stellato, not ever.”
“Crystal, I know Vince is a bully. How can you be so sure he’d never rape anyone?”
“Look. I hate it that I’m defending the bastard. But it’s just the plain truth. Vince wouldn’t rape cause he wouldn’t see any reason to do it. If some woman refused to have sex with him, he’d just figure she had some kinda problem.”
“Not short on self-confidence, huh?”
“Honey, Vince thinks he’s irresistible. His mom was a lot like Maryjune, from what I’ve heard. And Vinnie was her little darling.… He believes women love him to bits. Actually, what they love is his money.” She thought of something and laughed out loud.
“What is it?”
“See, Vince doesn’t understand what part of his pants women want to get into. It’s not his fly, like he thinks. It’s his back pocket, where he keeps his wallet.”
“He wouldn’t be the first old guy to make that mistake.”
“Oh, believe me, honey. When you’re a waitress, you learn a helluva lot about men.” Crystal sipped her heavily fortified coffee. “Anything else you want to know?”
“Did you ever meet his son, Lance?”
“Uh-huh. Vince brought Lance into Nonni’s every once in a while. The kid never guessed who I was, least I don’t think he did. See, Vince liked to talk about the kid, and he wanted me to see him so I’d, you know, have a picture in my mind.”
“What about Maryjune? Did you meet her?”
“Sister Maryjune? Yeah, I made sure I bumped into the nun once or twice. And I gotta admit, a couple times I called the house just to stir up trouble. Once I even phoned and told her straight out that I was Vince’s girlfriend.” Crystal grimaced. “I’m not proud of it, you know? But that was years back, when I was young and stupid. In love with the jerk.”
“It’s funny, though,” I said. “Maryjune doesn’t seem to think her husband has a mistress.”
“Yeah, well. About three years ago, Vince told her he gave me up. That’s when he made me promise to quit calling. I guess she believed him, the ninny.” Crystal tried to run her hand through her tangled coiffure, then gave up. “I used to hate that woman. I thought that softness of hers was just a big act. But you know what? I think she’s probably a pretty nice person.” Crystal winked at me. “Unfortunately, if you know what I mean.”
I laughed. “Yeah. It’s hard to dislike the Maryjunes of this world. Look, Crystal, do you think Lance could have killed Lili Molina?”
“What?” Crystal leaned back in her chair. “Lance is just a kid. He’s real spoiled, but … hey, don’t ask me. I don’t know him at all.” She frowned and set her cup on the table.
“Look. I don’t want to make things up and get people in trouble. Just because I know Vince inside and out doesn’t mean I know the rest of them, capish?”
“Capish.” I shut my notebook and snapped the elastic band. “You’ve been helpful. Thanks for your time.”
“Know what? I’m feeling better now. You kinda took me outta myself.”
“Sorry for the crack I made about your house. Actually, it’s a palace compared to mine. I like it, especially the sandstone fireplace.”
“No offense taken. Now that Vince is out of the picture, I can decorate it any way I want, can’t I?” She walked with me to the door. “I could do it that new midcentury style. He’d hate that for sure.”
“Crystal, before I go. Can I run three more names past you?”
“Shoot.”
“Jared Crowley, Bruce Wiederkehr, Sutton Frayne. Did Vince ever talk about any of them?”
“Crowley I never heard of. Wiederkehr, yeah. Vince called him a pansy. But Frayne—what a turd!” Crystal flushed and put out a hand to the wall, to steady herself.
“Hey, take it easy.” I took her by the arm and led her back into the living room, easing her down to the couch.
“Jesus, my blood pressure. I’ve managed not to think about that asshole Frayne in months!”
“Breathe evenly. Don’t talk till you feel OK.”
After a minute or two, she looked up and met my eyes. “I’d love to tell you Frayne’s the guy you’re looking for, Jaymie. ’Fraid not.”
“Just tell me what you know about him, then.”
“Not much, actually, not so fucking much considering how he messed with me. See, about a year ago Vince and I were on the outs, OK? And somehow Frayne hears about it. So he comes into the restaurant where I work, makes a big play. The guy’s handsome, kinda like Robert Redford used to be. I’m an idiot, being on the rebound, and before I can think straight he takes me down to the Coronado Hotel, wining and dining. Next he charters a plane, I kid you not, and flies us up to the wine country … that man is loaded. Loaded, I’m telling you.” She picked up a glass figurine, a poodle, off the coffee table and cradled it in her hands.
“This is kinda embarrassing. But actually it’s funny too, now that I think about it. See, outta the blue, the guy dumps me. One night he comes by the house and calls me a broken-down slut, yadda, yadda. And get this: he claims that’s why he couldn’t get it off with me anymore, because I was so—so—‘dirty and used up.’” Crystal shook her head and laughed.
“Nice guy,” I observed.
“I’ve known my share, honey. I have known my share.”
I was getting into the Honda when Crystal opened the front door again and hurried down the walk. “Hey, Jaymie. I got a hunch Robert Redford maybe did the same thing to that Wiederkehr guy’s wife. Just something he said once, something like ‘that woman’s so damn hungry it’s disgusting.’” Crystal made a face. “That bunch. It’s like incest, know what I mean?”
Chapter Seventeen
I’d just left Ventura and pulled onto the PCH when Mike called. I was so deeply immersed in my thoughts that I didn’t respond to the ringing at first. When I finally picked up, the phone had gone to voice mail.
Mike’s words didn’t exactly radiate friendship. He wanted to meet me in an hour at the Mission, but he wouldn’t say why. I texted him back with a yes.
I arrived early, so I parked and wandered into the Mission rose garden. The beds had just been watered, and delicate French perfumes wafted up on the warm moist air.
I drew in a slow deep breath to calm myself. Nature took its sweet time, and I needed to do the same. A few feet away, the rich earth bubbled as a mole inched forward in his safe dark world.
Mike’s truck approached up Los Olivos. When I waved, he lifted his hand an inch above the wheel.
I watched as the truck pulled into the parking lot. Mike got out, then walked around to the passenger side. When he reappeared, he was cradling something in his arms. He set the something down on the asphalt. It began to move forwa
rd, like a broken rocking horse.
Dex! With every step, the little mutt halted. Patiently, Mike stayed at the dog’s side.
I began to walk toward them. But Mike called out, “Wait there on the grass.”
Fortunately Dexter was on the lawn before he realized it was me. He gave a sharp bark and broke into a gallop, forgetting he had only one hind leg. The cow dog pitched forward and landed on his muzzle. I put a hand over my mouth: it hurt just to see.
“Whoa, boy. Take it easy.” Mike lifted Dex to his feet.
I didn’t know if it was the dog’s stumble or the man’s gentle response that caused my eyes to prickle with tears.
“Dex.” I knelt down and pulled the mutt close. He slobbered on my cheek. I looked up at Mike. “I want my dog back.”
“He likes riding shotgun. You’re not getting him, not for a while.”
“Come on, Mike. You just like having a regular bed partner,” I teased. But my words were met with a flat-out glare.
“Listen,” he said curtly. “Did you hear what happened an hour ago? Claudia Molina.”
“What! Please don’t tell me she—”
“No, the girl’s fine. Except for a black eye and bloody knuckles.” Mike gouged out an errant weed with the toe of his boot. “It’s Lance Stellato who got the worst of it.”
“What? They fought?”
“Yeah. They’re both cooling their heels in juvie as we speak. They got into it in the high school parking lot. She had an old knife on her, and I guess she scratched him up a little.”
“Her father’s switchblade. You know why Claudia went after Lance, don’t you? She found out what he did to Lili a year and a half ago. My fault. Claudia was in the office—she read it on the board.”
Mike shrugged. Subject closed, apparently.
I gave Dex one last ear rub and got to my feet. “He’s better off with you for now, I admit. I’m not sure I could protect him.”
“The question is, can you protect yourself?” He scowled and looked away. “Not that it’s any of my concern.”
“Mike? Can we talk? Because if—” I saw his expression, and my voice withered midsentence.
“I’ve got something to say to you, Jaymie. For once, it’s not the other way around.”
“OK,” I said in a small voice. I knew this wouldn’t be good.
“You and I are done.” His eyes were gleaming and hard as two slivers of obsidian. “You don’t need to worry, I won’t be chasing you anymore.”
I’d expected a tongue-lashing, but not this. “Mike, I don’t really see—”
“You didn’t think about me, not for a minute, when you decided to run off.” With each word, his voice grew louder. “I got a real good look at how much I mean to you.”
“Mike, I—”
“I risked my job for you, do you know that? It was stupid, handing that info over to you. Damn stupid. But I trusted you, Jaymie. Trusted you, damn it!”
“And did I betray your trust? How? I haven’t told a soul!”
“How? I’ll tell you how. Something goes wrong, and all of a sudden you’re hightailing it out of town. No discussion with me, not even a heads-up.” All traces of Mike’s impassive stoniness were gone: his furious voice boomed out over the rose garden. “Like I’m nothing to you, nothing but a way to get what you want!”
“Don’t blame me. I didn’t chase after you!” I was getting a little warm myself. “Why did you give Gabi my card in the first place? Admit it, all that talk about seeing justice done was bullshit. Just a ruse to start up with me again!”
“A little of both.” Suddenly deflated, Mike shrugged heavily. “What does it matter now? It’s finished, that’s all. Not that it ever was on.”
I looked over to where Dexter was lying on his belly, digging furiously in the soft dirt of the rose bed. “At least he’s having fun.”
Mike shrugged in dismissal. “Dex, time to go.”
The dog shoved his muzzle into the ground, then pulled back and looked at us: tiny pink mole hands waved on either side of his jaws.
“Mike, please. Can’t we be—”
“What, friends?” His voice was flinty, his mouth drawn in a tight line. “No, we damn well can’t. And you know it.”
Dexter stood there with his prize. He looked at me, then looked at Mike striding off, his head bent, hands stuffed in his Windbreaker pockets.
“Go, boy,” I said softly. “He needs you even more than I do right now.”
* * *
A tense-looking Cynthia Wiederkehr hovered just inside the old teak gate. She wore beige linen slacks and a taupe silk top, accented by a black pearl necklace and matching earrings. I caught a whiff of her understated, elegant perfume.
“Did you park behind the hedges, as I asked?” The woman clasped her hands together, as if to keep them from flying off. “I don’t particularly want my family to know we’re meeting.”
“My car’s hidden, Mrs. Wiederkehr. There was a gardener back there, though.”
“Armando, no doubt, having a smoke.” Cynthia wrinkled her aquiline nose. “Smoking isn’t tolerated on the grounds, and I believe he has quite the nicotine addiction.” She pressed the gate latch and waved me through. “We’ll go to the tank house. I want our talk to be uninterrupted—and preferably brief.”
I followed Cynthia through a natural section of the property, along a narrow gravel path. Insects hummed and butterflies lazed through the air. Though the area seemed overgrown and wild, each shrub and tree was perfectly placed.
“Wonderful garden,” I said to Cynthia’s back. Sure, the woman had an army of worker bees. But still, she deserved some of the credit.
“Two acres of California natives, nothing else.” Cynthia strode forward, educating the air. “Montecito Elementary School uses this area for their nature study. The native plants attract native insects and birds, of course.”
We circled an ancient live oak and entered a clearing. An old two-story-high redwood water tower, weathered to a soft silvery brown, stood at the center. Cynthia stopped and turned to me. “Are you interested in native species, Ms. Zarlin?”
“Sure. I wish I knew more.” Surprisingly, I was beginning to like this woman, silk, pearls, scent, and all.
“I know what you mean. Our California flora and fauna are so diverse.” Her voice softened. “Just recently we discovered a population of southwest blind snakes living right here, under the tower foundation.” She took out a key ring and stepped onto the sandstone threshold. “They’re beautiful, silvery. And so small—they fit in the palm of your hand.” She opened the door and stepped through, motioning me to follow.
The single airy room was filled with lab tables and chairs. A large whiteboard was mounted to one wall. “So this is a classroom?” I asked.
“Yes. The base of the tower, this space, was originally a storage room. I had it converted for the school. The water was drained out of the tank upstairs nearly a hundred years ago—in 1923, I believe.”
I followed Cynthia across the orange and blue vinyl floor to a rough-hewn door, which opened into an enclosed redwood staircase. We climbed to the second level and stepped out onto the original open catwalk, which circled the tank. A few steps along we came to a door set in the tank wall. A new padlock secured an old iron latch.
Cynthia fiddled with the padlock. “That’s odd. It’s turned back to front, and no one comes here but me. In fact, I have the only key.” Then the door fell open, and we entered a circular high-ceilinged room.
The floor was made of thick redwood planks, blackened with time, and the walls and ceiling were lined in cedar. The heavy exposed beams in the ceiling were also of redwood. A series of tall, narrow fixed windows looked out to a wavering blue and green world.
“A magical space,” I murmured. Then I told myself to cut it out. It wasn’t my job to praise the possessions of this wealthy woman.
“I suppose it is, yes. Anyway, the tank house is private, and that’s why I’ve brought you here.” Cynthia wa
lked to one of the windows and stood looking out, her back to me. “You know, when you asked about Sutton on the phone yesterday, I wasn’t really surprised. Somehow I knew my indiscretion would surface.” She turned toward me. Her figure was dark now, illumined from behind.
“I decided to speak with you because there’s something I want you to know about him. Something you might find useful.”
I heard a bitterness under her words, and knew exactly why she’d agreed to talk to me. Cynthia couldn’t care less about being helpful. No, what she wanted was revenge.
“Sutton Frayne isn’t what he seems, is he, Mrs. Wiederkehr.”
“No. No, he’s not. Dear old Sutz is something of a manipulator. It’s—somewhat embarrassing, actually.”
“I’ll be discreet.”
“I certainly hope so.” She let out a puff of air. “It was like this: Sutton pursued me for five or six months. He wined and dined me, he took me to cozy little hideaways.”
“And then?”
“And then?” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Once he got me on the hook, he dropped me. He had the nerve to drop me flat.”
“Did he say why?”
“Not really. He had the gall to blame me, though—I didn’t measure up in some way or other.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“You can try. I may choose not to answer.”
“With Frayne … how was the sex?”
Cynthia barked out a short laugh. The bark was high-pitched, like a shih tzu’s. “Sex? In Sutton’s case, we’d have to define the term, and I’m not going to—”
“Tell her, Mom!” a high girlish voice rang out from the open door.
“Sarah! I thought you were going out!”
Sarah Wiederkehr wore black calf-length tights and a pleated skirt that barely covered her ass. “Armando. He told me this—this person came in through the back gate. I’m kind of surprised you’d bring her here. Isn’t this where you used to meet Sutz?”
“But—how did you know?”
The young woman strode across the room and flipped a switch. Harsh light flooded the room. “He told me all about it, Mom. He told me how you came on to him, how he didn’t want to say no. How pathetic!”
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