The apartment he occupied turned out to be located on top of a shabby beauty salon called Short Cuts. It was within walking distance of Gerri’s house. I couldn’t help thinking that Amy had probably snuck over here to buy her stuff, and I wondered if her father had found out what she was doing and threatened Frank, and he had retaliated by killing Dennis. The other two deaths had followed from that act. I guess I’d find out soon enough. As I rubbed my arms and stamped my feet to keep warm, I noticed the lights were on in Frank’s apartment. Either the guy had insomnia, or he was an early riser, or he was cleaning up from his earlier activities. Probably it was a combination of the first and third items on the list. I would imagine that after a night like Frank had had, it would take more than a warm cup of milk to settle you down enough so you could fall asleep.
I was just thinking that I wasn’t going to have that problem when I finally crawled into bed, when I saw the door to Frank’s apartment open. I scrunched down. Frank walked outside and looked around suspiciously, checking out the street. Satisfied that no one was out, he turned and headed towards the back of the apartment. He was carrying a plastic garbage bag in his hand. When he returned a few minutes later, his hands were empty. Then he went inside. A few minutes later, the light in his apartment went out. I was just getting out of the Taurus to investigate when Connelly pulled up. He’d made better time than I thought he would.
“I should have known,” he said, when he saw me. “Is he in there?”
I nodded. “And I’d check the dumpster in the back if I were you. He just threw something out.”
“Probably yesterday’s pizza.”
“Or the gun Toon Town was shot with.”
Connelly grunted. He wasn’t going to give me anything if he didn’t have to. “Stay here,” he ordered. Then he drove up in front of Frank Richmond’s door and got out. He moved stiffly, as if his joints hadn’t had time to adjust to being awake yet. I followed, taking care to keep a good ten feet or so behind.
Connelly turned and frowned at me. “Don’t come any closer,” he warned. Then he turned and knocked on the door.
Startled by the noise, a rail of a cat dove under a car. The light upstairs went on. Connelly knocked again and identified himself. A few minutes later, the door opened, spilling a stream of light out onto the pavement. Connelly stepped in and closed the door behind him. I did the only thing I could do: wait. Ten minutes later, he and Frank Richmond stepped outside.
Richmond’s gait was smooth, his shoulders were erect, he looked tired but confident. Then he caught sight of me. The color drained out of his face.
“You should wear less cologne,” I said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered.
Connelly motioned for him to get in the car. Frank Richmond did as he was told. Connelly slammed the door shut, got in on his side, and drove away. Maybe it was because I was so tired, but the sight of Frank Richmond being brought in for questioning wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be.
On the way home, I kept thinking about Amy and what was going to happen to her, and I couldn’t let go of the thought that there was something I had missed. Something important. It was right there, but I couldn’t get hold of it. It kept sliding away from me. I hit the steering wheel in frustration and got a sore hand for my troubles.
Except for two other cars, Genesee Street was deserted at four thirty in the morning. Houses were dark and stores were closed. When I was in my twenties, I liked being up at this hour. I enjoyed eating breakfast and watching the city wake up. But now all I wanted to do was go home and go to bed. As I pulled into my driveway, one of my neighbor’s kids was getting into his car. He had an early morning paper route and had to arrive at the collection place by five at the latest, if he wanted to get people their papers by six thirty. He waved at me and I waved back. As I got out of my cab, I could hear him trying to start his Plymouth. It was a rusted out piece of junk that groaned and wheezed every time the kid turned on the ignition. Finally, he got the thing started and pulled out into the street, and I went into my house.
Zsa Zsa came running down the stairs to greet me. She was hysterical with delight at seeing me, and I petted her and told her what a marvelous girl she was for a good five minutes before I went up to my bedroom. By now, I was so tired that my bones were aching. I went past Manuel’s room on the way to mine. His door was ajar, and I could see he was sleeping—something I hoped I was going to be doing very soon. The moment I got in my room, I shucked off my shoes and headed straight for my bed. I sighed with pleasure, as I lay down. Zsa Zsa hopped up next to me and snuggled into my side. I gave her a quick belly rub and called George, but he wasn’t home. He was probably still downtown. I hung up and looked out the window. With the leaves off the trees, I could see some of the houses built on top of the hill above me. As I watched, the lights came on in two of them. I was just closing my eyes, when the phone rang. I reached over and got it.
“About the diamonds,” Connelly began. I guess he didn’t do preliminaries.
“What about them?”
“Richmond said you have them.”
“I wish.”
“That’s what I figured.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“He’s confessed to the three homicides.”
“That was short.”
“Sometimes it goes like that. I’m getting ready to take his statement. You’re going to need to come down later. Let’s say around two.” Connelly hung up.
I replaced the receiver and went back to staring out the window. I could hear the roar of a garbage truck climbing up the hill. Today was garbage day. I should have taken mine out, but I was too tired to move. I turned on my side, hugged Zsa Zsa to me, and closed my eyes. A car that sounded like my neighbor’s kid’s Plymouth clunked by. A moment later, another car honked, and I heard a door slam. I put my pillow over my head. The neighborhood was getting ready for the day, and I was trying to end mine. But every time I closed my eyes, I started replaying scenes from last night. I couldn’t seem to get them out of my mind.
I kept seeing Amy tottering on the edge of the roof, Amy curled up in a ball crying, the doctor getting out of his car, Connelly taking Frank Richmond away. Then all of a sudden, I knew what was bothering me. It was the Plymouth Sundance that I’d passed on the way to Richmond’s house. I’d seen that car two other times. It had been parked in front of the Mortuary School. And Manuel had gotten into it in front of Noah’s Ark. I jumped out of bed and ran into Manuel’s room. Suddenly I wasn’t tired anymore.
“Manuel, Manuel,” I cried, as I shook him awake. “Get up.”
He groaned and opened one eye. “What time is it?”
“Early. Listen, the other day someone picked you up from the store in a Sundance. Who was it?”
“You’re angry. I’ll replace the Scotch we drank.”
“Manuel, I don’t give a fuck about the Scotch. What’s his name?”
“Her name.”
“Fine. Her name.”
“It’s Dee.”
“Dee?” I blinked. “What kind of name is that?”
“That’s her nickname.” Manuel yawned. “It’s short for Doodlebug.”
“What’s her real name?”
“Lisa.”
“Lisa what?”
“You got me. Why do you want to know?”
I swear, Manuel and his friends could be poster children for the War On Drugs. “Where does she live?” I demanded, impatiently.
“On Oak Street. Right off of Lodi.”
“What’s the number?”
“I don’t know. It’s the pink house in the middle of the street. She lives downstairs. You’re not going to talk to her, are you?” Manuel demanded, panicking. “Because I don’t want to get her in trouble.”
“You haven’t. Go back to sleep.”
“What’s this about?”
“Nothing important,” I lied, and I headed down the stairs before Manuel could a
sk me any more questions. Then I grabbed a jacket, told Zsa Zsa to guard the house, and headed out the door.
The sky had lightened. Bands of grey and pink and pale yellow showed in the east. The grass, stiff with frost, crunched under my feet, as I hurried to my car. People were out now. Some of my neighbors were setting out their trash and others were pulling out of their driveways.
Dee. I’d heard that name before. Where? Amy had scribbled UB in her notebook. Those letters had stood for Brad Richmond. It wasn’t him. But they had to do with him in some way. I lit a cigarette and backed out of my driveway. Manuel had said her real name was Lisa. As I turned onto East Genesee, it hit me. Of course. Brad Richmond had called his secretary Dee. Lisa. Elizabeth Walker. She’d been so helpful. She’d told me all about Charlie. She’d even hugged me when I suggested she go speak to Brad Richmond about Charlie harassing her. Unbelievable. As I drove by a phone, it occurred to me that I should let Connelly know where the diamonds were. I stopped and dialed his beeper, but he didn’t reply and, after a few minutes, I gave up.
Maybe I should have waited to get in touch with him, but I was pretty sure that if I did, Elizabeth Walker wouldn’t be around for Connelly to find. She had the money, she had her ticket to Cancun, if she were smart—and she was—she would be gone very soon. In fact she might be already. I got back in George’s car and sped off. As I drove, it occurred to me that with Elizabeth Walker in the picture, all the loose ends fit quite nicely. She was the circle that linked all the strands.
I wondered, why hadn’t Frank given her up?
I wondered, what would make him take the fall for her?
Ten minutes later, I was on Oak. I spotted the house Manuel had described immediately. Unfortunately, the Sundance wasn’t in the driveway. I parked, walked up to the apartment, and rang the bell. No one answered. I tried the door. It was locked. The living room blinds were up, so I cupped my hands over my eyes and looked inside. I couldn’t see anyone moving. I straightened up and listened for footsteps or a radio going or some sign that someone was home, but I couldn’t hear anything. It looked as if I were too late. Elizabeth Walker had left. I stopped at the nearest phone and left a message for Connelly. Then I went home.
Manuel was waiting for me.
He didn’t look happy.
Chapter 34
Manuel was standing framed in the kitchen door when I came in. “I’m sorry,” he wailed.
“You should be.” I was about to say something else, when Elizabeth Walker stepped out from behind Manuel. She must have been hiding in back of the kitchen door. I caught my breath.
Manuel appeared ready to cry. “She’s got a gun.”
“You called and told her I was coming?” I could hear my voice. It was incredulous.
“I didn’t know,” Manuel cried. “I thought you were going to yell at her because of what we were doing. I wanted to warn her.”
I guess all those articles about how communication is important between two people are right, after all.
“You have any rope in this house?” Elizabeth demanded. She sure didn’t look sweet anymore. I wondered why I thought she had. It was the way she dressed, I decided. The flowered print dress and the pink nail polish.
“I think I have some in the basement.”
“Let’s go get it.” Elizabeth motioned for Manuel to move.
He took a couple of steps and I could see the gun she was holding to his back. I heard muffled barking as I opened the basement door. I looked around. “Where’s Zsa Zsa?”
“Locked in the downstairs bathroom,” Elizabeth Walker said. “Let’s go.”
The three of us went down the stairs slowly. I tried to think of something I could do, but I couldn’t. By the time I got to Walker, she would have shot Manuel.
“I’m really sorry,” he whispered to me, as I clicked the basement light on. “I thought she liked me because I’m a good dancer.”
I remembered the woman I’d seen him dancing with at the club. It had been Elizabeth Walker. Then I thought about the empty pizza boxes, the crushed cushions, Manuel’s unexplained absences, the telephone conversations that had been cut short when I went out of the room.
“You’ve been seeing her all this time, haven’t you?” Manuel hung his head. “And you’ve been telling her what I’ve been doing.” He didn’t look up. He couldn’t bear to meet my eyes. I glanced over at Elizabeth Walker. Her smile told me everything I had to know. “You know,” I said to her, “they have Frank in custody down at the PSB. He’s already confessed to the three murders.”
Elizabeth shrugged. We could have been talking about a problem with her carburetor.
“So that isn’t going to do you any good.”
“He won’t say anything about me. He couldn’t stand the thought of my being in prison.”
“How chivalrous.”
“Frank’s a chivalrous guy. Now get the rope.” She pressed the gun muzzle into Manuel’s back to make sure I got the message. As I looked at Elizabeth Walker, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she’d pull the trigger.
I did what she asked. Then she told me to tie Manuel’s hands behind his back, and I did that, too.
“Tighter,” she snapped, after she tested what I’d done.
“Any tighter and his circulation is going to be cut off.”
“It’s not going to matter.”
Manuel blanched as I drew the rope in. What was about to happen to us was finally penetrating. Then we all went back upstairs.
“You really are a piece of work,” I said to Elizabeth Walker, as we trooped into the hallway.
Elizabeth turned up the corners of her mouth. “My grandmother used to say that.”
“I take it she didn’t mean it as a compliment.” I know mine never had.
“She worked as a maid in a motel all her life. Why should I care about what she thought?” She opened the door and glanced out to see if anyone was outside. Evidently no one was, because she told us to get in the Taurus. “You drive,” she told me. “And I’ll sit next to Manuel.”
I stole a look at him. He was biting his lip to keep from crying. I wanted to tell him it was going to be all right, but I couldn’t. Instead, I asked Elizabeth Walker where her car was.
“In your garage.” She prodded Manuel along. He stumbled slightly as he walked and banged his head getting into the car. Walker got in next. “What are you waiting for?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I looked around, hoping that one of my neighbors hadn’t left for work yet and was phoning the police, but I knew that they had left already. Then I got in.
The front seat was cramped with the three of us sitting in it—not that that was going to matter much. I had a feeling we weren’t going to go very far. Elizabeth Walker told me where she wanted me to go. The area she indicated was about ten minutes outside of Syracuse. It was mostly marsh and I couldn’t help reflecting, as I pulled out of the driveway and headed down East Genesee for possibly the last time, that it might be awhile before anyone found our bodies. It was going to be a perfect late fall day, I decided. The sky was cloudless, the temperature felt about fifty, everything was bathed in a golden light. I thought, if I’m going to die, I’d rather do it when it’s grey and cloudy. Then I tried not to think about that.
“What about Amy?” I asked Elizabeth Walker.
“What about her?”
“She knows about you.”
“Not really. She knows about Frank. Frank’s her supplier. Frank beat up her boyfriend.”
“Why did he do that?”
“Because he thought Toon Town was sleeping with me.”
“Was he?”
“Not really. I used to go down on him once in awhile. That’s not really sex.”
Right. It was one of those distinctions I’d never quite understood. What had he said to me? I just want a little candy. Elizabeth Walker was the candy. “When he called, he thought you’d show up.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“But you sent Frank.”<
br />
She smiled. “I had to do my laundry and pay my bills. I hate paying late fees on my credit cards, don’t you?”
“Absolutely. And it was Frank who shot Toon Town and shoved some acid down Amy’s throat and put her on the roof.”
“If I had both hands free, I’d clap. Amy’s never seen me do anything and, even if she had, her head is so screwed up I don’t think any court in the universe would listen to anything she has to say. No prosecutor would risk putting her up on the stand.”
Unfortunately I had a feeling that what Elizabeth was saying was true.
“Get on Thompson,” she ordered.
I snuck a look at Walker as I drove by The Springfield Garden Apartments. She was thin. A little too thin, really. Except for a slight overbite, her features were regular. She was okay looking. But not remarkable. Average would be the word I would use, certainly not a woman men would kill for. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
“How do you do it?” I asked.
“Do what?”
“Get men to do what you want?”
I’d never been able to get Murphy to do the dishes, let alone anything else.
Elizabeth laughed. “The usual way. I tell them what they want to hear. I make them think they’re the most important thing in the world to me. I pretend they’re the greatest thing in bed ever. I ask them for their advice. I let them think that I can’t do anything without them, isn’t that true Manuel?” she cooed.
He cringed and looked down at the floor. Even though I shouldn’t have, I felt bad for him. Dying is bad enough. Dying because you’ve been a moron is terrible. I turned on to Thompson. The road was filled with people going to work. Right now I wished I were one of them.
“Did you plan this whole thing out?” I asked Elizabeth Walker, as I sailed through another green light. It was incredible. Today I was making every single light. Usually I never make any.
“No.”
“At least tell me what happened.”
The Scent of Murder Page 24