Blood Orange

by Karen Keskinen

  “Yes?” The door opened halfway and a thin blond woman of about my own age peered through. She was beautifully put together, as if she were modeling that afternoon for American Riviera magazine.

  “There’s a fire up on the mountain!” I pointed. “Please, call 911.”

  She looked at me doubtfully, her glance shifting to my hair. I put a hand to my head and discovered a stick with leaves attached. “Look. It’s a long story, and I don’t have time. Please, just make the call. And this is really important: two older ladies are trapped in the Stonecroft mansion, just below the fire.” Doubt lingered in her expression.

  Impulsively, I reached out and grabbed the woman’s arm. My hand left a dirty smudge on her pale blue linen blouse. She looked at the mark and cringed.

  “If you’ll just step out here, you’ll see it! Promise me, will you phone?”

  “Yes, all right. I’ll phone.”

  “And after that, can I use your cell to call for a ride?”

  Her face changed. “I really don’t think so. I don’t even know you. Maybe you should—”

  “OK, OK.” I backed away. “Never mind about that. Just call 911 and don’t forget to tell them about the women at Stonecroft. Please.”

  I’d only make matters worse by sticking around. I turned to go.

  At that instant, through the bougainvillea, I saw the black Maserati rip past. It did not slow.

  * * *

  In less than ten minutes, the Montecito fire brigade roared past me, heading up the mountain. Before long, other fire engines followed: Santa Barbara, Goleta. As I neared the lower Riviera, a stream of cars joined me going down. Two women trotted past on horses. Nobody had forgotten the recent big fires: the Tea Garden, the Jesusita, the Gap. I was witnessing the beginning of a fresh exodus.

  When I reached the city streets, I slowed to a hobble. The pain in my knee was persistent now, too strong to shove out of my mind. The traffic was slow, but I needed a lift. I stuck out my thumb several times, but no one gave me so much as a second glance.

  I needed to call Mike, to warn him about Frayne. I stopped a kid skateboarding past and asked if I could use his cell. “Sure. But the networks are jammed.” I tried Mike’s number several times, then Gabi’s, before I gave up. I limped on.

  Dusk was creeping into the city, and the wind had reversed its direction and was accelerating. I allowed myself one long look up the hill. The smoke rose in towering pillars, and in the gathering dark you could see angry orange lines racing along the ridges. The devil’s playtime had arrived once again.

  Think, I ordered myself. Think like a cold and calculating killer. Where in hell would you go?

  If I were Frayne, I’d want to get as far away, and as fast, as I could—but no. Maybe not so far after all. I’d only need to cross the border. Mexico would be my kind of country: a land where cash is king and no questions are asked. Just feed the mordida, señor, then do as you please.

  Mexico, and perhaps later, points further south. Once Frayne got to Mexico, he’d be free—free of the law, free to rape and kill. And the fastest and surest way for him to get there was in his boat.

  I took off at a gimpy trot through the city streets, heading down to the marina. Twilight was deepening, and small crowds were gathering at vantage points to watch and photograph the fire. People pointed their cell phones, not saying much. Quiet, waiting. Waiting to see how far down the mountain the fire would rage.

  * * *

  Frayne hadn’t bothered to hide the Maserati: I found it parked near the marina at a crazy angle. He was in one hellish rush to get out of town.

  I stepped off the parking lot to the sand and sank to a sitting position. I was exhausted, and by now my injured knee felt as if it were pierced with a red-hot skewer. But I knew I had very little time.

  I tore off my shoes and then my socks. Bare feet would be best: silence was everything. I filled one sock halfway with sand, and tied the top in a knot.

  The wire gate at the head of the dock was locked as usual. Cleverly designed to foil intruders, the gate was edged with razor wire and extended out over the water on both sides. I was thinking about easing myself into the brine and swimming around it, when a thoroughly drunk couple tottered up.

  “Hi!” I said merrily. “I left my keys at home. Can I come through with you?”

  The guy looked me up and down. “Well, I don’ know,” he deadpanned. “No socks, no shoes, no serv-serv—”

  The woman shrieked with laughter. “He’s jus’ kidding. Come on!”

  I entered hard on their heels. The gate clanged shut. The couple engaged in a sloppy kiss and I moved around them, fading into the dark.

  The Icarus’s berth was out near the end of the dock. I’d gone fifty yards before I got a good look at her. The lights were off, but the beam of a strong flashlight shifted about on the deck. I edged closer, hugging the shadows.

  Now I could make out Frayne. I watched as he strapped a storage box to the rail, then untied the line to the dock and tossed it on board. A minute later he descended into the cabin, closing the door behind him. Even then he didn’t switch on a light, but continued to work by flashlight. I could see him through the portholes, preparing for departure.

  It was now or never. I whispered a prayer for assistance, figuring it couldn’t hurt.

  I crept forward and jumped the widening gap between the Icarus and the dock. I landed with a thud and froze, willing myself not to scream with the pain in my knee.

  I held my breath as the agony subsided. Nothing had happened. So far, so good.

  I slipped across the deck, pausing with each step until I reached the gas tank at starboard. Thank God, the cap wasn’t locked. It took some elbow grease, but I managed to unscrew it.

  The daylight was nearly gone. Only a reddish light tinged the horizon, just enough to see by. I untied the knot in my sock, weighing the sand.

  But then I heard a noise above me. Frayne was in the wheelhouse. Fearing he might see me, I crouched down on the deck as the engine roared to life and the cabin lights flared.

  The Icarus backed out of its berth, swerved right, and headed out of the marina. Within minutes we were in the harbor, heading for the open channel. I’d have to work fast.

  I turned my attention back to the gas tank. The boat had slowed, but I couldn’t waste time wondering why. As I reached for my sock, the sand spilled onto the deck. Damn! I worked frantically, pushing it into a little pile.

  “Sand play, investigator? Freud would have approved.”

  Slowly, I turned. Pointing straight at my head was the barrel of a gun. “Mr. Frayne—”

  “Shut up. Raise your hands over your head.” Frayne bent down until his face was inches from my own. His heavy cologne made me gag.

  “Seasick already?” He lifted my lip with the tip of the barrel. “No, it must be fear.”

  Fury boiled up in me. “It’s the smell of you, Frayne.”

  Quick and smooth as the strike of a snake, the gun lashed the side of my head. I sagged to all fours.

  “On your feet. Get down below.”

  My brain swirled as I descended the cabin steps. Frayne was right behind me, his gun prodding the small of my back. I clung to one thought: the Icarus must not leave the harbor.

  “Ever tried bondage, sweetheart? I’d start right now, but we’d never get out of the channel.” Frayne flashed his movie-star smile. “See that Saarinen chair? I’m going to tie you to it. It’s an original, so please don’t puke or shit in it later, when we play our games. Actually, you might find you enjoy the experience. I know I will.”

  “What kind of monster are you?” Unfortunately my voice wasn’t as confident as I wanted it to be.

  “‘Monster’? I expect a little respect from my girls, if that’s what you mean. And if I don’t get it, the sluts get what they deserve. That’s reasonable, wouldn’t you say?”

  My brain had cleared well enough for me to grasp one vital fact: if I let Frayne tie me up, I was as good as dead
. All I could think to do was to talk. “Just tell me something, will you? Why were you blackmailing Jared? Not for the money, obviously.”

  “Obviously. For the fun of it, I suppose. I knew the little freak would turn around and ask Wied for the cash. I enjoyed seeing them sweat.”

  “What do you have against Bruce? It wasn’t enough to screw the man’s wife and daughter? Your sister and niece, by the way.”

  Frayne tipped back his head and laughed. “Jaymie, you’re showing off. And you are clever up to a point, I have to admit. But speaking of Crowley, you never noticed his hair stuck to the tape I used on that ugly little mutt of yours.”

  “Oh, I saw it, all right. I just didn’t fall for it. You tend to overplay your hand.”

  Frayne’s smile disappeared. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. After all, everyone cooperated so nicely. That idiot Crowley delivered the girl to the warehouse for me, just as I’d devised. And I’d planned to implicate a drifter—in fact, I had one likely fellow picked out—but the Armenta boy offered me an opportunity too good to pass up.”

  “So why did you kill him?” I fought to keep cool. I wanted to scream in his face, gouge out his eyes.

  “Well, you know the answer to that, Jaymie. Armenta was going to talk.”

  I knew I had to keep Frayne engaged, until I could come up with a plan. “Yes, you were clever, I have to admit. Your alibi, for example.”

  He looked amused. “And you never figured that out.”

  “I did, actually. An old-fashioned shell game, right? You thought if you kept rotating between your mother, Sarah, and various party guests, everyone would assume you were with somebody else during the hour you were away.”

  “Jaymie, I’m touched. You understand me.”

  “I understand you’re sick, if that’s what you mean.”

  But I’d gone too far. The muscles in Frayne’s jaw tightened as he trained the gun on my chest. “Shut up. Question-and-answer time’s over. Now put your ass in that chair.”

  As I turned toward the chair, I took a step closer to Frayne, bent low, and drove my head up hard under his chin. He grunted, and the pistol went flying as his neck snapped back. I scrambled after it, but just as I reached out to pick it up, he kicked me in the back of my knee—my injured knee. I screamed and fell on top of the gun.

  Then Frayne made the mistake of trying to kick me off the weapon. In spite of the pain I was ready for that, and grabbed his foot and twisted, sending him crashing. He cursed, spitting with rage.

  But as I struggled to my feet, I rolled off the gun, and Frayne grabbed it. Before I could lunge for him, the gun was pointing straight at my head.

  “Get—back—up—on—deck. Now.”

  Cold ferocity shone in the man’s eyes. I knew I was walking to my execution.

  “First it’s downstairs, then it’s up. Make up your mind, Frayne. Admit it, I’ve rattled you.”

  “You know, I like that about you, Jaymie. You just never give up, do you. Not even when it’s hopeless.”

  I ascended the steps with the gun digging into my back. A horrifying phrase entered my mind: dead woman walking.

  “I’m sorry we’re skipping playtime, Jaymie. It would have been fun, hearing you beg. Now get over to the rail.”

  I stood facing the mountains. The sundowner wind was now in full force. A tracery of fire illuminated the hillside. “You set that, Frayne,” I shouted into the wind. “How dumb can you get? You burned your own family home—with your mother in it!”

  “I set the fire so I could escape, to keep the plods busy. Caroline? I did her a favor. The old cow’s better off dead.” The gun barrel dug into the small of my back. “Step closer to the edge. I don’t want your blood messing up my—”

  At that moment, the Icarus pitched. I saw my chance.

  I grabbed Sutz by his chambray sleeve and launched us both over the side.

  The cold sent a shock wave through my brain, and I sank. When I surfaced, I could hear Frayne sputtering nearby. I sucked in a big breath of air and dropped under again, trying to breaststroke away from the boat. When I came up I could still hear him, but we were farther apart.

  “I’ll kill you,” I heard him scream. “I’ll kill you just like the others!”

  I closed my ears and began the long swim to shore.

  * * *

  The California Current, flowing down from the North, twines its icy fingers into the Santa Barbara Channel. The cold water, and all I had been through that evening, gradually took its toll. I thought about Danny, and wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I washed up on the beach.

  Then a wave hit. I bobbed under, swallowing seawater. The second time it happened, I thought about staying down.

  And at that moment—the moment when I began to give in—the magical dream began.

  A boat lit with garlands of party lights waltzed out of nowhere on the choppy waves. It came so close I could hear Louis Armstrong crooning on board. I used what strength I had left to bleat for help.

  Somebody called back. Louis fell silent, and a beam of light struck me full in the face.

  The party boat maneuvered side on, and a chorus of voices urged me to catch hold of the rope ladder.

  I managed to grab it and hang on as four or five people reached down and hauled me on board. I was immediately wrapped in a silvery cape. Then an elixir of steaming clam chowder was held to my lips.

  “There’s a killer out there,” I croaked. “Call Harbor Patrol.”

  * * *

  “Jaymie, you’re a superhero.” Mike leaned in through the squad car window and gave me a shoulder squeeze. “A wet one,” he added with an odd little smile. He looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry.

  “What I feel like is a drowned rat. I just want to go home and curl up in my dry little bed.”

  “It won’t be much longer now,” Mike replied. “Listen, I just talked to Gabi. Wait till you hear what Claudia dug up about Frayne. Thank God the Coast Guard pulled that scumbag out of the drink—drowning would have been too easy on him.”

  “But will the charges stick? We’re still short on physical evidence.”

  “The report came in yesterday: Frayne’s saliva was on the megaphone, just like you said it would be. Matched his DNA. He slipped up—wonder why?”

  “Arrogance, I’d say. Frayne probably thought we’d never connect the megaphone to the murder.”

  A pretty young woman wearing a summery cotton dress—and Mike’s Windbreaker—stepped up to the squad car window. “Hi, Jaymie. I’m Mandy Blaine. I think we met once? I work in the sheriff’s office.”

  Oh, how I wanted to say, Fuck the hell off! And if I hadn’t been so exhausted, that’s just what I might have done.

  But I heard myself say, “Sure, Mandy. How are you?” Because of course I remembered her. I remembered her because she was the only nice person in that viper’s nest, the one to go to if you needed some help. I glanced over at Mike. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and he was studiously looking out to sea.

  Suddenly I was conscious of my hair hanging in wet clumps around my seawater-washed face. Hell, for all I knew, I had seaweed stuck in it.

  “Mike’s told me all about what happened, and I think it’s awesome, what you did.” A small frown crossed her face. “Oh, I didn’t mean all about it—he would never talk about confidential stuff!” And I swear to God, she turned and squeezed Mike’s arm.

  “Does she have to be so damn nice?” I muttered. I pulled the silver cocoon up over my head, leaned back, and shut my eyes.

  Postscript

  “Jaymie, Jaymie. I arrange a surprise trip to our fiftieth state, with only a few strings attached. Last night you see your green flash. And back in SB, all turns out for the best: the case against Sutz is airtight. What more could you want, petulant one?”

  I opened my eyes and looked deep into his. We were sharing a beach towel, lying on our sides face-to-face. I reached up and brushed a silvery glitter of Big Island sand from hi
s cheek.

  “Not everything turned out for the best, Zave.”

  “Hey. I thought we agreed not to talk about the deputy.”

  “I’m not talking about him. Or thinking about him, either.” That was a flat-out lie, but it was best to pretend.

  “So what’s subpar? The pile of evidence surrounding Frayne is reaching to the sky. He’s not buying his way out of this one, and there will be further charges on down the line.” Zave propped himself up on an elbow. “Did I tell you? Janet and Caroline are happy campers over in Casa Serena. You know, they took your suggestion and left Celeste off their approved-visitors list. I think they’re secretly glad Stonecroft burned.”

  “It’s good they’ve settled in. And Casa Serena will benefit in a big way from Caroline’s donation. Thanks for taking her on as a client.”

  “No, baby, thank you for the rec.” Zave ran a finger under the edge of my bikini bottom. “So I repeat, what’s not good?”

  I sat up and looked out over the bright turquoise sea. Pert little waves flirted and danced. “Well, the Armentas. Gabi told me they aren’t doing so well in Mexico. Chuy’s OK, but Alma and Aricela can’t seem to get past Danny’s death.”

  “It’s early days, Jaymie. Time will heal.”

  I shut my eyes against the relentless glare off the water. “Lili and Danny are dead. The truly innocent ones, you know? And Celeste Delaney—not a scratch on that she-monster.”

  “Time to let it go, sweetheart.” Zave took me by the shoulders and gently pressed me down on the big beach towel. His hands drifted over my body. His caresses were so sweet they made me shiver, in spite of the scorching sun and the black sand steaming all around us.

  Zave bent down and touched his lips to mine, then fell back on the towel and groaned. “Let’s go take a nap in the condo.”

  “OK. In a few.” I got to my feet, wobbled a little, then skittered across the scalding beach to the water. I let out a sigh as the cool wavelets lapped at my ankles.