Blood Orange

by Karen Keskinen

  “Sarah, for God’s sake, what do you know about these things? You haven’t even—even—”

  “What, you think I’m still a virgin? You know nothing about me, nothing! I have a lover, OK?”

  “Sarah! Who is he? Tell me the boy’s name this instant!”

  “He’s not a boy. He’s a man, an older man, and it’s none of your business! You’re so out of it, Mom, and your head’s stuck in the sand. You don’t even know about Dad!”

  “What do you mean? There’s nothing to know about Bruce. He—”

  “Dad’s gay,” Sarah spat.

  I could hear their rough breathing, as if mother and daughter had just taken time out from a bout in the ring. Their eyes were locked, and both seemed to have forgotten I was there.

  “Don’t you dare say that,” Cynthia rasped. “I’m married to him. I think I’d know.”

  A charged silence swirled in the circular room.

  When Sarah finally spoke, her voice had changed: she sounded like a little girl. “You didn’t want to know, Mommy. I always knew, but you never wanted to know.”

  “That’s not true,” Cynthia said dully.

  “Yes, you know it is. These days Daddy likes that horrid bleached-blond boy.…”

  Cynthia suddenly sprang to life. She spun around and focused on me like a rattler about to strike. “You. What do you want from us? Why in God’s name are you here?”

  “You know why, Mrs. Wiederkehr. I’m investigating the murder of Lili Molina. I came to ask you questions pertaining to her death.”

  “But why us?” Cynthia snarled. She needed a sponge to absorb her rage, and apparently that sponge would be me. “Answer me! What could my family possibly have to do with the murder of a little Mexican whore?”

  “Mrs. Wiederkehr.” Now I struggled to rein in my own anger. “You’re talking about an innocent young—”

  “Get out! And get off my property, you little nobody!”

  * * *

  “I screwed up, Gabi. I got tag-teamed by a mother-daughter duo.”

  “Screwed up? Sounds to me like you learned really a lot.”

  “Oh, I did. Information buzzed around me like a swarm of Africanized bees. But I never got the answer to my main question.”

  “What was that?”

  “‘How was the sex?’”

  “Hm. So you think Sutton Frayne’s got some kinda problem?”

  “Could be. He seems to make it a habit to turn against his sexual partners. I suspect it works in the beginning for him, as long as he’s in control.”

  “Well, I can see why you never found the right moment to ask about that.” Gabi filled the office sink with hot soapy water and pulled up her sleeves. “So you burned your bridges, huh?”

  “Yeah. I won’t get much more out of Cynthia.”

  “Rich stuck-up bitch.”

  I grinned. “The worst kind of bitches are the rich ones, aren’t they.” Then I rested my head in my hands and groaned. “I’ve got to start eliminating suspects, Gabi. The more I look into this business, the guiltier everyone seems.”

  Gabi swabbed the cups and saucers energetically. “So maybe they are all guilty. All in it together.”

  “They can’t all be killers.” I picked up a dish towel and a dripping cup.

  “Rich people got stuff to hide. Cause they got the power to do bad things.”

  “No doubt about that.” I raised a hand and popped up one finger at a time. “Lance Stellato has something to hide: he manipulated Lili into having sex with him. Vince has two things to hide: his girlfriend, Crystal, and the fact that his son abused Lili. Married gent Bruce Wiederkehr—well, he’s having sex with Jared. Jared, he’s having sex with Bruce, and they’re being blackmailed. Sutton Frayne the bloody Third: he plays nasty games with the wives and girlfriends of his friends.”

  “If you ask me, the women are worse.” Gabi yanked the plug, and the water gurgled down the partly clogged drain. “They act like nothing’s wrong. Otherwise, the men would have to behave better.”

  “Hm. What you just said about the women…”

  “Miss Jaymie? You’re gonna wear a hole in that cup.”

  “What? Oh, here.” I thrust the cup and towel into her hands, and reached into my pocket for my phone. “You talking about women made me think. There’s one I’ve got to make contact with.”

  * * *

  “These are hardly the sort of matters I discuss on the phone, Jaymie. Surely you, as an investigator, can understand.”

  “I’ll come visit you if you like, Miss Delaney.”

  “That is inconvenient, I’m afraid. In fact, I am planning to go out myself this afternoon, to visit an acquaintance around four. I suppose I could stop at your office or home on my way there. We could go for a little drive and talk in my car.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll be at my office. Can I give you directions?”

  “No, I know where it is. Well then, half past three.”

  * * *

  “Get out of the vehicle and walk on the beach, Ken. Exercise is important for the aging body. Make certain you cleanse your clothing and breath of cigarette smoke before you return.”

  The back of Ken’s neck purpled. “Yes, Miss Delaney,” he said tonelessly.

  “He hates me, of course,” Celeste Delaney observed once Ken had closed the driver’s door. “It’s best that way—no misunderstandings.” She turned to me. “Don’t you agree?”

  “If you hold absolute power, Miss Delaney, I can see how that would work.”

  Celeste Delaney laughed thinly. “Observant of you. If the balance of power slips, well then. All hell breaks loose.”

  “After me, the deluge?”

  “Indeed, and already the waters are rising. But the rich will continue to get richer for a time longer. Certainly there will be time enough for me.” She plucked at the afghan covering her lap. “Do you see what is happening, as I do? Society has begun its decline. Our institutions are crumbling, both those that do good and those that are evil. For better or worse, chaos awaits at the door.”

  “There are times when I see it that way,” I admitted.

  “Times when you are honest with yourself, you mean.” The old woman gave a short laugh. “Now, you said you wanted to ask about Sutton. My curiosity is piqued. Whatever for?”

  “I do understand he’s your relative, Miss Delaney. But I have to go where my inquiries lead me.” I watched Ken advance along East Beach, a wisp of cigarette smoke trailing after him. “Apparently your nephew is not the easygoing fellow he seems.”

  “No? Well, I don’t suppose any of us are what we seem, my dear. So, you want to ask me about him. But to what purpose? Sutton is not a suspect, surely.”

  “I can’t rule anyone out. Not yet,” I said carefully.

  “You disappoint me, Jaymie. Why are you overlooking that vulgar boy Jared?”

  Celeste Delaney had an ear to the ground, that was for certain. “Crowley’s still in the picture.”

  She inclined her head in my direction. “And the Stellatos, father and son? My sources tell me they may have had what is called motive.”

  How the hell did she know all this? The sun was beating down on the shut windows, heating the limo like an oven. I’d broken out in a sweat.

  “Vince Stellato was at the Wiederkehrs’ party—he has an alibi. He was front and center most of the time. Lance’s alibi is wobbly. He was at the party too, but a lot of the time he was out of sight. I get the sense he liked Lili, though. For what it’s worth,” I added lamely.

  “Oh, intuition can be useful, as far as it goes. Though it does not trump facts, as I’m sure you’d agree. But if all these people are innocent, as you seem to believe, might that not lead us back to Danny Armenta? Alas, now we cannot speak with the poor demented boy.…”

  “It wasn’t Danny, Miss Delaney. That I can promise you. And the money you put up for bail will be returned later this week. Again, thank you.”

  “You know, I was thinking about that, Ja
ymie. You should have a portion of the money.”

  “Me? What for?”

  “You’ve worked so very hard, my dear, and asked for nothing for yourself. I have my connections, naturally, and they tell me the case is soon to be closed. It is only right you should receive some compensation.”

  “Miss Delaney, would you mind if we opened a window?” I needed to slow things down, to think. What game was Celeste playing at—and why?

  “Oh, are you too warm? I’m sorry, but I am elderly, you know, and must avoid drafts.” She rearranged the afghan in her bony lap. “So what do you say, Jaymie? I was thinking in terms of fifty thousand dollars.”

  Fifty thousand dollars? To me, a king’s ransom! And certainly too much to have no strings attached. “Miss Delaney? Exactly what are you asking me to do?”

  “To do? Simply to move on, my dear. To close your little investigation. Come now, you and I know that no one associated with the Guild killed that girl. A preposterous thought! Yet by investigating, you are troubling people, creating suspicion. And my dear, I simply can’t have you troubling my crowd.”

  I admit I was tempted. The investigation was going nowhere, and fifty thousand dollars would pay for so much. I could keep Gabi on, invest a portion for the Molinas and the Armentas. It would change their lives. College fees for the kids, for example. I dreamed for a moment.… And then I woke up.

  “I can’t do it, Miss Delaney.” I shrugged. “It’s a matter of uncovering the truth.”

  “The truth? The truth is this: once upon a time, Jaymie, your self-centered actions and inactions contributed to the death of your own brother. What drives you now is not a thirst for justice, my dear. It is guilt.”

  “What? How do you know about that?” Abruptly I was squishy with sweat, struggling to think straight.

  “Stupid girl.” She swiveled her head to face me. “I am growing impatient with you. Do you not see by now that I can discover anything, should I choose?” Her face grew dark, suffused with blood.

  “Get out! Walk back to town. Lesson one: the powerful ride, the powerless walk.”

  The black limo, silent and smooth as a hearse, whisked by me a few minutes later. It came so close, I felt the wind of its passing on my bare ankles.

  * * *

  “I’m coming over.” Mike sounded tense. “There’s something I need to show you.”

  Shamelessly, my spirits lifted just at the sound of his voice. “Will you bring Dexter?”

  “Dex goes everywhere with me now. I registered him as a service dog.”

  “Dexter, a service dog? Are we talking about the same mutt?”

  “Dogs get trained to do all sorts of things nowadays, Jaymie. Like sleep with a diabetic kid. If the kid’s blood sugar drops too low, the dog trots down the hall and wakes up the parents.”

  “That’s wonderful. But I can’t see Dex working out. He thinks a little too much, know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, Dex would be calibrating the kid’s sugar intake and the time of his last shot. He’d figure the kid had another hour, easy, and go back to sleep.”

  The joke wasn’t very funny. But I laughed, just happy Mike was actually talking to me again.

  “Jaymie, before I come over I just want to say … I’ve decided you’re right, we can be friends. I mean, why the hell not? We’re grown-ups.”

  “Uh—OK.” There was something else, I could hear it. His words were peaceable, but his voice was strung tight as a banjo.

  “So, I want you to hear this from me.” Seconds passed. “I’m thinking about—whatever they call it now. Dating.”

  I drew in a sharp breath, and my blood pressure zinged. He hadn’t wasted any fucking time! “So who’s the lucky lady, or isn’t it any of my business?”

  “There’s no lucky lady. I just think it would be a good idea. You know, to move on.”

  “Is that all you want to talk to me about?” I snarled. “Because if it is, you don’t need to come over and bother me with it.”

  “No, it’s not. Like I said, it has to do with the case. I just wanted to set matters straight. I don’t want there to be any—you know—misunderstanding between us.”

  My, wasn’t he on the high road. “Whatever. Suit yourself.”

  * * *

  My heart began to thump out an angry rhythm when I heard Mike’s truck powering up the drive. Maybe I was getting what I’d asked for, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

  I went to the front door and opened it. Mike got out, then lifted down the scrappy little cow dog. Dexter hop-skipped one way, then the other, nose to the ground. Then he looked up and saw me standing there. He raced forward and stumbled.

  “Dex, how are you, boy.” I knelt down and wrapped him in my arms. “He looks happy, I have to admit,” I mumbled into the dog’s fur.

  “He’s got scars, though. And not just the visible kind.” Mike followed me inside, Dexter tight on his heels.

  “Want a cup of coffee?” I tried to keep my voice flat.

  “What the hell, Jaymie? It’s seven P.M. No beer in the fridge?” His voice was so damn hearty. Trying out this new friendship thing, I supposed.

  “I’ll get you a Sierra Nevada.” I disappeared into the kitchen, my face hot. I didn’t know if I wanted to hug the guy or show him the door. It was confusing, and I damn well didn’t like it.

  When I returned to the living room with the beer and a rawhide chew, Mike was smoothing out a piece of paper on the coffee table. “So here’s what I want to talk to you about. Recognize this guy?”

  I tossed Dex the chew, and the pup scuttled out of the room. I sat at the far end of the couch and picked up the paper. The picture was blurred, but I knew instantly who it was.

  “Ken. Don’t know his last name, but he works for Celeste Delaney. Real sweetheart.”

  “Ken Utman. I knew Utman was here in town—I’ve seen him around a few times. But I didn’t realize he works for Delaney now, not until this morning.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “Utman’s a dirty cop from LA Narcotics: he was on the take and in the trade, too. He was fired down there, hell, must be five years ago now. A buddy of mine from downtown phoned to tell me Utman came into the station today and met with Chief Wheeler.”

  I sat forward on the edge of the couch. “Celeste must have sent him. He’s her errand boy.”

  “No doubt of it. Right after Utman left, Wheeler called in the detectives working the Molina case.”

  “And? Don’t keep me guessing.”

  “Basically, the chief told everybody to wrap it up pronto. Far as he’s concerned, Danny Armenta killed Lili Molina, then killed himself. End of story.”

  I frowned. “Why should Celeste Delaney’s opinion matter to the chief of police?”

  “Come on. Were you born yesterday?” Mike took a swig of beer. “Maybe because she’s powerful enough to have his operating budget diced and chopped? Or because she has the clout to get the city to fire him?”

  “OK, I get it.” I stared at Utman’s ugly mug. “One thing’s for sure, Celeste has changed camps. She was all for helping Danny in the beginning. That was back when I was looking for an outsider. But now that she knows I’ve put the Guild Triune under the microscope—”

  “What—you told Delaney that? No wonder she’s calling a halt!” Mike banged down his bottle and got to his feet. “Jesus, you’re taking a risk.”

  “I don’t see why. I—Mike? Where’s Dex?”

  “I might have left the door open. Guess he’s outside, just sniffing around. I’ll get him.” His words were casual, but he moved quickly. I followed him out the door.

  We hadn’t walked more than a few paces, calling for the cow dog, before Dexter scuttled out from under the truck. His tail was tucked between his legs.

  “Something’s spooked him,” Mike said.

  “Maybe he wandered around to the back—to where he was tied up. I’ve cleaned it twice, but he can probably still smell everything.”

  Mik
e opened the cab door and lifted the little dog up into the driver’s seat. “Let’s go take a look.”

  Usually I avoided the site of Dexter’s torture. But I nodded and followed.

  “Those dark stains on the steps. Is that Dexter’s blood?”

  “Yeah. He was spread-eagled, tied to the posts.” My throat constricted. “The tendons in his hind leg were severed. In other words, he was butchered.”

  “And his muzzle—you said it was wrapped in tape.”

  “Yes. He could breathe just enough to die a slow death. I—damn!” I pressed a hand to my mouth. “I can’t believe I was so dumb.”

  “What?”

  “I was so freaking upset, I didn’t think to ask the vet for the tape after she removed it. Plastic tape—stuff sticks to it. Who knows what evidence got tossed?”

  “When things get personal, it’s hard to think straight.”

  “Isn’t that the truth.” I knelt down and ran my fingers through the long grass sprouting at the edge of the steps. Suddenly my pulse took a hop.

  “Look at this! The gods must be smiling.” I extracted a crunched ball of clear tape from the grass. “This is it, the same tape the guy used on Dexter’s muzzle.”

  “The asshole must have tangled that part, then rolled it into a ball and tossed it.”

  “Maybe,” I replied. “Let’s go inside and have a closer look at it.”

  In the kitchen, I placed the ball of clear tape on a clean paper towel. There was no point in trying to unravel it. The adhesion was too strong.

  I found a magnifying glass in a drawer. “Dirt. Seeds, probably grass. And something else. Reddish-brown … fabric? Some sort of fuzz?”

  “Dexter’s fur?” Mike was so close I could feel his warm breath on my cheek.

  “No. Too short, wrong color. OK, I think I know. Material off a glove, maybe a leather gardening glove. And—shit!” I jerked up and we bumped heads. Mike winced and I looked away.

  “OK. Before you head-butted me, Jaymie, what did you see?”

  “Look for yourself.” I handed him the magnifying glass.

  “Two curly blond hairs approximately one and a half inches long.” He peered closer. “Dark roots, not quite black. More the color of a bay horse.”