“Well, it says Jasper here, but it’s Jaz, all right. I’d recognize that schnoz anywhere.”
David handed it to me. Jasper Cutler did have a distinctive nose. And I’d seen it before, I realized with a jolt. It belonged to the guy who was with Julia the night we went to Mondrian. Same curly hair, too, except without the bald spot. I wondered again if he’d been my attacker.
David was working his way through a stack of articles from The Light.
He shook his head. “I don’t get it,” he said.
“What?”
“Why Ed gave you this stuff. He must have spent hours collecting it all. What for?”
“He loves me,” I said. “Or he hates me. Hell, I don’t know.”
“I’m not sure it has anything to do with you, Copper.”
“Gee, thanks.”
David kept poring over the stories. “Did he say anything? Write you a note? Explain anything?”
“Nope.” I thought back to the time Ed had almost coughed himself to death in my cube. “He’s known Julia for a really long time, though.”
“Not surprising,” David said. “He’s one of the few native sons at The Light. He was actually born in Las Vegas.”
Without talking much, David and I kept reading stories, scanning court briefs, and looking at grainy photographs. The only obvious theme in all of them was that Julia fought like a bulldog for her clients, and in many cases, she won. That kind of record could definitely inspire the enmity of her opponents, but did it really make her a bad guy? Maybe Ed Bramlett hated her for the same reason he called the Sekhmet Temple women “a bunch of ball-busting dykes.” He was a card-carrying misogynist, and Julia Saxon was the kind of woman he despised the most. But that didn’t explain why he’d made such an effort to give me all this stuff. Ed was mean, but he wasn’t stupid. I was the stupid one. Something was staring at me, and I just couldn’t see it.
I was reading a story about Julia’s fight to keep the city from closing a shelter for battered women when the oven timer went off. David retreated into the kitchen to rescue his meat loaf.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he called.
“Want me to set the table?” I asked, joining him in the kitchen.
“Sure!” David said, handing me one of the two martinis he was holding. “Let’s eat in here so we don’t have to move all your Julia stuff.”
I arranged plates and silverware on the kitchen table, and as soon as the food was ready, David went back into the dining room. When he returned, he was carrying the two silver candleholders, which he had furnished with new white tapers. God, not only was he a guy who made meat loaf, he was a guy who bought candles. He found a match, lit them, and flipped off the ceiling lights. “Too dark?”
“No.”
“Too romantic?”
Yes! I felt like shouting, but I didn’t. I didn’t even look at him. I just sat there a moment, trying to let my heart rate slow back down.
“If I had to guess,” David said as he cut me a slice of meat loaf, “I’d say Ed was building a case. He knows something about Julia, but he doesn’t have proof. So he’s looking for guns and hoping he’ll find one that’s still smoking.”
“Why would he give all that stuff to me?”
“That is something I wish I could tell you,” David said. “Ed Bramlett isn’t known for sharing.”
“You can tell me who Jaz Cutler is.”
“He’s the heir apparent of a family that owns large chunks of downtown. He calls himself a developer, but he’s really just a flat-footed old rich boy who plays a lot of golf.”
“Flat-footed?”
“Well, I don’t know what’s wrong with his feet, actually, but something is. Sometimes he uses a cane. Always wears comfortable shoes.”
I thought about the white running shoes again. They were unusual to wear with a tuxedo, but not for someone who might need to be fleet of foot after committing a felony. Even so, dorky shoes alone were no crime, and staying friends with a high school chum was hardly a smoking gun. They obviously hadn’t robbed a bank together, or Ed would have provided documentation.
“Sorry I haven’t been much help,” David said.
“Oh, but you have,” I said. “I still don’t have any answers, but I feel as though I’ve got better questions.”
After dinner, David and I tried to read more stories about Julia, but somehow we’d lost our focus.
“Okay, enough old news,” David finally said. “Time for an old movie. Want to watch Magnum Force?”
“I guess,” I said. “Or maybe I should head home.”
“You have a home?”
Damn. I sure didn’t feel like I had a home, even with all my new loot. I looked at David.
“Sorry,” he said. “None of my business.”
I sighed.
“Well, you’re welcome to stay here if you want to, Copper,” David said. He paused and shot me a little smile. “Truth is, I’ve missed—” He paused again. “I’ve missed beating you at backgammon.”
David sat on the sofa to watch the movie, and I took his recliner chair. Ordinarily, sitting in a recliner guarantees that I’ll be sound asleep by the end of the opening credits, but not that night. David’s presence was like a continuous, low-level electric current, and it made me wish I hadn’t been so quick to jump into a one-person chair. Then again, maybe I was lucky I did. It was getting harder and harder to hear that little voice whispering, “He’s married.”
My restlessness was heightened by a nagging question. What was up with Daniel? Where was he? He hadn’t called me, and even though I try not to play too many games, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the one who should make the next move.
I can’t say Dirty Harry is my favorite hero, but I caught every last nuance of his personality along with every last lip curl and squint. When the film had run its course, David stood up.
“It’s pretty late, Copper. Are you sure you want to drive home?”
“No,” I said. “If your fold-out’s available, I’d like to take you up on it.”
I was looking straight at him when I said it, and as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt my face begin to burn. Damn!
I am positive David noticed my sudden pinkness. I know what I look like when I blush, and it isn’t subtle.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said quietly. Our eyes met.
“Thank you,” I said, mostly to keep myself from saying, “I was hoping you’d ask.”
“You’re always welcome, Copper,” David said. Our eyes met again, and I’m pretty sure his face had more color than usual, too.
“Always.”
Chapter 21
Lying there in David’s ex-wife’s ex-study, I couldn’t sleep. As I looked around, I noticed the sewing machine had vanished along with the red-flowered hat and the books about marital sex.
Daniel hadn’t called, and the more I told myself to forget about it and go to sleep, the more wide awake I became. Finally, I threw the covers off, turned on the light, and rummaged in my backpack for my phone. I obviously wasn’t going to get any rest until I broke down and called him.
I checked my phone. Four missed calls? I checked the ringer, but it wasn’t turned off. Damn! Why hadn’t my phone rung?
The first call was my mother.
“Copper! We’re worried about you! Please call!”
The second was Mom again.
“Copper! We just got your message! Are you sure you can’t get here tonight? It’s Christmas, darling, and we miss you. Well, we hope you’ll get here when you can. Love you!”
The third was Daniel.
“Hey. Thought I’d call to see what’s up. Call me back. Bye.”
I sighed. The words didn’t sound particularly apologetic, but his voice did. I felt my shoulders loosen a little.
Oh, Daniel. I don’t want to fight with you.
The fourth call was from Daniel, too. It had come in at about midnight, but that time he left no message.
I punched Daniel’s number immediately, but after four rings, his voice mail answered.
“Hi—it’s Copper.” I paused, wishing I had thought about what to say before I called. “I’m—I’m—” Why wasn’t he picking up, anyway? Where was he? But I guess that’s what he was wondering about me. “Call me, okay?”
Even though I was sure I’d never fall asleep, I set the alarm on my phone for six. I figured that would give me enough time to figure out how to make myself presentable enough to go to work. Neither my apartment nor the Golden Nugget sounded very appealing, but I was going to need a shower, and …
:: :: ::
Monday, December 26
A horrible dream woke me up five minutes before my alarm would have. I was hiking up a steep mountain to a house surrounded by a tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire. When I reached the house, no one was there. Suddenly I was on the outside of the chain-link fence, clinging to it. Rocky cliffs dropped off below me to water hundreds of feet below. I tried, but I couldn’t climb up. I would have to try to climb down.
Then, suddenly, I heard Daniel’s voice. I looked up, and he was clinging to the fence above me.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m here.”
He inched down alongside me, but before I could say anything, he smiled and—let go! He twisted into a dive, and he was gone!
I clung to the fence as the realization dawned that I could never get away alive. My arms were already weakening, I was alone, and—I woke up, my heart pounding.
The room was dark, but I could see light under the door. Good. At least David was up.
I threw on the bathrobe he had loaned me and joined him in the kitchen. He was wearing boxer shorts and a “Race for the Cure” sweatshirt.
“Hey,” he said, smiling at me in a way that almost made me feel better. “Want some coffee?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I’m still recovering from a scary dream.”
David filled a Harrah’s mug and set it on the table.
“Do you remember it?”
“Sort of,” I said. “Basically, I was about to die, so I woke up instead.”
“Sounds like a wise choice.”
“I got four calls last night, but my phone never rang.”
“Oh, I should have warned you about the little vale of silence on Palm Treasure Drive,” David said. “Cell service is notoriously weak right here. Drives me nuts.”
I took a sip of coffee.
“I think maybe I should have let that dream kill me,” I said.
David sat down across the kitchen table from me, his mug in front of him.
“Copper,” he said, “if there’s anything I can do … ”
“You’ve been great, David,” I said. “I owe you.”
David smiled. “And don’t think I won’t collect,” he said.
:: :: ::
I couldn’t face going to my apartment before work, and the Golden Nugget was out of the question until I resolved things with Daniel. That left going to work in the same clothes I wore Christmas Day, but fortunately there was some very nice herbal-smelling shampoo in David’s downstairs bathroom, and I found a hair dryer in a drawer. I always keep some mascara in my backpack, so only my teeth needed attention. I figured I’d stop at a drugstore on my way to The Light, but the first thing on my agenda once I was out of the no-cell zone was to call Daniel.
He answered on the first ring.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I said, trying to match his careful nonchalance. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Where are you?”
“On my way to work. Where are you?”
“Golden Nugget.”
It was one of those horrible conversations where every time you say a word it feels like you’re throwing a raw egg, and every time you hear a word, you feel like you have to catch one without breaking it. But in the end, we managed to agree that I’d pick him up at noon at the Golden Nugget and we’d get “a bite to eat.” Things had to be less awkward in person.
My second call was to the vicarage, where Michael answered the phone.
“What happened to you?” he said. “We were worried.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just couldn’t get there.”
“Turned into a real ice storm, eh?” Michael said.
“That’s a good metaphor for it.”
“Well, I hope you can come to dinner tonight, Copper. It’s Ted and Jackie’s last night in town, you know.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ll come right after work.” I paused. “Thanks, Michael.”
“We’re just glad you’re okay, baby sister. See you tonight.”
The “baby sister” grated, but when I think of all the justifiably outraged things he could have said, I decided it was a minor transgression. I hoped Sierra would be as forgiving.
A quick stop at a drugstore equipped me with a toothbrush and toothpaste, and I put them to use in the women’s restroom on the way to my cube.
I was just finishing up when Alexandra Leonard joined me at the sinks. She was the only person in the building who didn’t look like she’d overdone it at the wassail bowl. She was her usual perky chipmunk self.
“Hi, Copper,” she chirped. “Happy Boxing Day!”
“Hi, Alexandra,” I said, shaking off my toothbrush.
“Heard about Ed Bramlett?”
“What about him?”
“He got taken to UMC yesterday afternoon,” she said. “Intensive care. Pneumonia. May not make it.”
“What?” I tried to sound less surprised than I was.
“He’s really had a hard time with the chemo this time,” she said as she dried her hands. She smiled at me in the mirror as she smoothed her hair. “Well, anyway, have a great day!”
Ed Bramlett had cancer? I knew he was in bad shape, but—why hadn’t I heard about it before?
In my cube, I tried to get started on my morning calls, but thoughts of Ed Bramlett kept haunting me. He’d been gravely ill when he tried to get my cell number from David. Making sure I got that envelope might well have been the last thing he did before he was hauled off to the hospital. He wanted me to read it before Monday. Was something bad going to happen today that I was supposed to prevent? Or was he just trying to beat his own clock?
I sighed and reached for the phone. Mondays are busy, even the day after Christmas. Might as well get started. But the phone rang as I was about to lift the receiver.
“Copper!” Damn. It was Heather.
“Richard got swarmed this morning,” she said. “When I got here, there were eight cop cars crammed into the cul-de-sac. I counted. Eight.”
“God, what happened?”
“Somebody reported a gunshot, but Richard says he just slammed the door hard when some dude from the homeowners’ association came around to harass him.”
I thought back to the day Richard aimed a hose at the guy who’d tried to videotape him washing his car. It wasn’t difficult to imagine a dork like that telling the police that a slamming door was a gunshot.
“The cops hung around awhile and took a couple of Richard’s guns. They finally left, but they saw the house, including the new disaster area in Jason’s room.”
“Did they take him?”
“No, but it doesn’t mean they won’t. Copper, we’ve got to get him out of here. It really is only a matter of time before—”
“Okay, Heather,” I said. “Let me make some calls, and—” I had no idea what I was going to do, but getting Heather off the line was definitely the first step.
“Shit,” Heather said.
“What?” I could hear crashing an
d shouting in the background.
“Okay, bye,” she said, and the line went dead.
At least she said “okay,” I thought, and even “bye.” The shouts and crashes probably weren’t life-threatening.
I had actually succeeded in making a call to the Silverado about their January events calendar when David materialized in front of my desk.
“I’ve got some Ed Bramlett news,” he said.
“I’ve heard,” I said.
“That he died?”
Oh, my God!” I said. “No! I just heard he was in the hospital.”
“Yeah, well ... ”
“Really? He’s dead?”
David nodded.
“Damn,” I said.
“Yeah,” David said. “You weren’t finished with him, were you?”
I looked at him, and our eyes locked.
“No,” I said. “I wasn’t.” I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. “He was incredibly vulgar, and then he gave me that pile of stuff. Now he dies.”
“A bastard to the end.”
“I really wanted to talk to him today,” I said. “I was counting on it.”
“I know,” David said. “Hence my presence in front of your desk.”
“You have some new ideas?”
“No, but if there’s anything I can do, Copper, please—”
“Why didn’t you tell me Ed had cancer?”
“I didn’t know, Copper,” he said. “We all knew he was sick, but—”
“Alexandra Leonard knew he had cancer.”
“Alexandra Leonard knows everything.” David shrugged. “Ask Norton Katz if you don’t believe me. Whenever he’s short of good gossip for his column, he goes straight to her.”
David didn’t stick around. We both had way too much to do. As soon as he left, I checked my email and found a message from Greg Langenfeld, Editor-in-Chief.
“I regret to report that Edward Bramlett passed away at University Medical Center early this morning. I will let you know funeral details when they become available.”
And then it seemed as though everyone in the building felt responsible for informing me of Ed’s death personally. By the time the visitations began to diminish, I felt as though I were Ed’s grieving girlfriend instead of his last victim. Even J.C. Dillon, Ed’s obvious successor as resident male chauvinist, stopped by.
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