by M. Z. Kelly
“Did Shulman take one of the company’s drill bits when he stole their tools?” I asked.
“The foreman couldn’t say for sure but a couple of expensive drills were missing,” Glade said. “It’s possible the drill bit was in one of the cases. They’re a pretty common accessory.”
“Any word on Shulman’s whereabouts?” Edna asked.
“We asked around at the plant and a couple of guys confirmed what the foreman told Kate, that he’s a gym-rat. We thought we’d hit some more of the local gyms and workout clubs. Pearl’s going to meet up with us later this morning.”
Edna looked at me and Charlie. “You two go with them. I want us to move quickly on this before Shulman knows were onto him, maybe leaves the state. The news about our victim being in the hotel’s water tank has been all over the local TV stations and papers.”
I asked Edna if I could talk to him privately for a moment as the others began leaving. On the way out the door, Gooch said to me, “Maybe later you can give me a little background on Natalie and Naw-naw for our lunch. I’d like to be conversationally prepared.”
I chuckled. How could you prepare anyone for Natalie and Nana? “No problem. You’re not going to believe what I have to say.”
The brothers high-fived their way out the door and closed it behind them.
“Knuckleheads,” Edna said after Gooch and Glade left. He turned to me. “What gives?”
I took a breath, tried to choose my words carefully. “I want to take one last crack at the Rose case.”
Edna gave me a vigorous head shake. “The DA filed against Mumford late yesterday. We’ve got a suspect who had the murder weapon in his possession. We’re out.”
“But we don’t have a solid motive.”
“Jezzie was famous, Mumford admitted he wanted a part of that, just like Ralston. Maybe the angle was jealousy. The DA will put their people on it, flesh it out. We need to move on.”
“I’d like one more opportunity. Just give me the afternoon to go back to the Roses and have one last conversation. If nothing comes of it, I’ll drop it and move on. I promise.”
Edna studied me for a moment, then heaved a sigh. “I must be getting soft in the head from being around Gooch and Glade. One last fucking interview, then we’re done. No exceptions.”
***
I called Flo Rose and asked her if she and her husband could meet me for a few minutes that afternoon. She said that Al was at work but agreed that I could come by her house, telling me that she needed to pick up a few things anyway. I learned they were still staying with Flo’s sister, hiding out from the press. Jezzie’s murder and the arrest of Shane Mumford had been the lead story on every TV station and newspaper in Los Angeles.
Bernie and I found a small army of reporters on the street in front of the Rose’s house when we arrived. I was driving Olive, my older model Ford, which drew little attention to us, except when my car coughed and sputtered to a stop at the curb.
We waited in the car until Flo arrived. She drove directly into their garage and closed the door behind her. I called her cell phone and we arranged to meet at a side door to the residence, leaving the reporters behind on the street.
“Sorry about the hordes out there,” I said after she let me inside and I took a seat at the kitchen table. Bernie circled twice and settled at my feet.
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “But it has been a little crazy with all the press coverage.”
Flo took a few minutes, heating water for tea, while we chatted. She then brought over cups and tea bags and took a seat across from me. The sun streaming in from the kitchen window caught some lines in her face that I hadn’t noticed before, or it might also have been with everything that had happened over the past few days she’d aged.
“I do hope the reporters go away soon,” Flo said, dunking a tea bag in her cup. “I’d like to come back home and have a life again.”
I brought out a notepad while my tea brewed. “I’m closing out some paperwork and just wanted to ask you a couple of questions.”
She shrugged, sipped her tea, then set her cup down. “Okay. What’s a few more questions at this point?”
“I wanted to ask you about something that Jezzie’s friend Sandra Weimer told me a couple of days ago. I think I mentioned before that she said there was a man hanging around after Jezzie’s practices. She described him as being a bodybuilder type and having a brown ponytail.” I looked up from my notepad. “Since we previously talked, does anyone meeting that description come to mind?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, no. Jezzie was very popular, especially after winning her medal. Maybe it was somebody who was attracted to her.” She put her tea bag on her saucer. “Why does any of this matter since Mumford’s been arrested?”
“Just tying up loose ends.” I smiled. “A police department runs on paperwork, if nothing else.” I went on after referencing my notes again. “Sandra said that Barry was angry about the guy who was hanging around. Did Jezzie ever mention anything about that?”
“Barry was…very controlling. As I said before, their relationship was off and on. But no, Jezzie didn’t specifically mention anyone who was creating a problem.”
“Do you have any idea why Barry would say that Jezzie wasn’t the person everyone thought she was?”
“What? Who told you he said that?”
“He said it to me, just before he died.”
Flo took a moment, sipping her tea, probably considering what I’d said. “I can’t imagine what he meant. Jezzie was…she was kind and good and…” She made a vague sound in the back of her throat. I gave her a moment but she didn’t go on. She seemed stuck, unable to finish her thought.
“What about Terry Gibson?” I finally asked. “Was Barry jealous of him?”
She recovered enough to chuckle. “I don’t think so. He probably thought Terry was gay, like everyone else.”
“What about Chucky Wilson? I understand he was coming around her yoga classes, making Jezzie uncomfortable.” I set my cup down. “He’s a big guy, pretty scary.”
“He’s a bully. I know that he and Jezzie had a falling out and she fired him. If he was coming around he probably wanted money.” She took a sip of her tea. “I can’t say for sure. But if he was threatening her and she was afraid of him, she never said anything to me.”
“When we arrested Wilson he said something about Barry Ralston putting a hit out on Jezzie.”
“I’m sorry?”
“A contract for murder.”
Flo’s brow knitted together. “That doesn’t make any sense. Barry and Jezzie’s relationship might have been up and down, but having someone…” She shook her head. “it just doesn’t add up.”
I scanned my notes again, now stalling. I knew that sometimes, given enough time, people spontaneously say things that can break a case. After a lengthy silence I decided that Flo wasn’t going to talk.
I finally said, “Is there anything else you can think of, anything about Jezzie’s life before she died that might be important for us to know?”
Flo shook her head, sipped her tea again. She moved her cup around the table and finally said, “It’s hard for me to say, Detective. Our family was very close, but as Jezzie’s success and fame grew, things changed.”
“In what way?”
She fussed with the buttons on her blouse for a moment. “I called it the fame monster.” Her eyes came up to me. “It’s a strange thing about notoriety. I think sometimes it changes a person’s priorities”
“Are you saying that family was not as important to Jezzie because of her success?”
She shook her head. “No. Family was always first, but I think our relationship changed.” She huffed out a breath. “Maybe it was also because Jezzie was growing up, getting older. She didn’t confide in me like she did when she was younger.”
“I understand. My mother and I drifted apart during my teenage years. It’s a tough time for families, but I guess it’s a natural part
of the separation process.”
Tears were in her eyes for the first time that afternoon. “Jezzie…she never even mentioned…the pregnancy…” Her eyes were heavier, big wet tears spilling down her cheeks. “It’s so hard to understand.”
“It must have been a difficult time for her,” I said, getting a box of tissues from the counter.
She blew her nose before going on, “Even with all the fame, Jezzie stayed close to her father and brother. But the two of us…” She shrugged, blotted her eyes. “I guess things were just different after she won the medal.” She put a hand on her forehead, the tears coming harder. “If I could only go back in time and change things.”
I touched her shoulder. “What would you change, Flo?”
Through her tears, she said, “I’d just like to have been there for her, to be closer. In the end, the medals and the fame didn’t matter to me like they did to Al. The only thing that mattered was my daughter.” After a hesitation, she brushed away her tears and added, “There’s really nothing else I can tell you about Jezzie that would be helpful.”
I thanked her and took my cup over to the sink. I turned back to her and said, “Before I go, would it be possible for me to look at Jezzie’s room one more time?”
“Why? I’m not sure I understand.”
I took a moment, trying to find words to explain my actions, maybe trying to also justify to myself what I was doing. “Maybe it’s just closure for me. I’d like one final look at your daughter’s room before I close out my case.”
Flo nodded. “I have to get some things anyway. Take your time.”
Bernie and I spent the next half hour rummaging around Jezzie’s room. After I spent several minutes looking at medals and awards, and then glancing through boxes of photographs in her closet, it occurred to me that something was missing.
There were lots of photographs of Jezzie through the years, but each photograph was taken during a competition. I couldn’t find one single image of Jezzie Rose’s childhood unadorned by the accolades of athletic endeavor. It occurred to me that the young woman simply was never allowed to be a child.
Bernie and I were placing the photographs back in the closet when something caught my eye. It looked like part of a label that had come loose or been torn off, maybe from a box top of some kind. The partial label read: ythro
I had no idea what it meant, if anything, but slipped it into my pocket. I then took a final look around the room, brushed a tear, and said to the child that Jezzie was never allowed to be, “Goodbye sweet girl.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I’m starting to get a few hits from the website,” Charlie said, smacking his gum as he drove us to Monroe’s Gym in Hawthorne the next day. Yesterday, some of the locals had said that our suspect in the Juanita Sanchez murder, Jeremy Shulman, sometimes worked out at the club.
“Are you talking about something to do with a suspect?” I asked.
Another gum smack. “No. Hook-Up-Happy. A lady named Gladys liked my profile page. She wants to meet for a drink tonight.”
“Gladys?”
“Her profile says her mother liked old fashion names.”
“With a name like that she could be one of Nana’s friends.”
Our octogenarian landlord had called last night and said she was coming home today. Natalie’s boyfriend had promised that he’d lay in an extra supply of Chica Loca for the homecoming.
“Funny,” Charlie snorted, turning off the freeway. “She’s forty-three, but looks about half that age.”
I did the math. “Let’s see, that would make her old enough for you to have been her teenage father.”
After five minutes of the silent treatment, I moved on and told Charlie about my meeting with Flo Rose. “She admitted that she and Jezzie had grown apart in recent years. I got the feeling they weren’t close at all.”
“Maybe that explains why Jezzie never said anything to her about the pregnancy.”
“I also took another look at Jezzie’s room.” Bernie stuck his head up from the back seat and nuzzled me, a sign that he wanted some air. I cracked my window. “It looked to me like her entire childhood was consumed with sports. Everything in the room was connected to her running. She was never allowed to be a little girl.”
“Probably the sacrifice it takes to be a big time athlete these days.”
I thought about Jezzie’s lost childhood, my own difficult years after losing my dad. “It’s a big price to pay.”
I turned away from Charlie, taking a moment to breathe in the cool air from the open window. I knew we were missing something in the Rose case. But I had made a promise to Lieutenant Edna that I’d let it go if I didn’t come up with something solid. I closed the window, knowing that I had no choice but to move on.
We found Monroe’s Gym in an industrial area of Hawthorne. It looked like the building, turned trendy gym, had once been some kind of manufacturing plant with lots of piping and storage tanks.
As we walked through the parking lot, I updated Charlie on what Natalie and Mo had found out about Ryan Cooper.
“He’s going by the name John Felton, apparently doing makeup work on a part-time basis for Northridge Studios over in the valley.”
“At least we know he’s still in the area. You’d better let Duncan in the Cold Case Unit know.”
“Done. He said he’d look into it. In the meantime, I’m worried about Natalie and Mo trying to track Felton down, getting themselves into trouble.”
We saw the brothers and Pearl waiting for us near the entrance to Monroe’s as Charlie said, “Those two couldn’t stay out of trouble if you paid them.”
“I’m starting to have a reoccurrence of TSSD,” Kyle Gooch said after we met up with him and Glade and began walking toward the club. “Just being around a gym and I’m having a Club Z flashback.” He shook his head like he was trying to shake off the traumatic memory of having Newt’s private parts in his face.
“Maybe tomorrow’s lunch with Natalie and Naw-naw will help,” Glade suggested.
“Speaking of that,” I said. “Naw-naw just got back into town from Vegas.”
“Did she have like some major fashion show there?” Gooch asked. “Maybe put on one of those see-through dresses and prance down the runway?”
“It’s possible, given her sense of style,” I said, putting a hand up to my face to keep from bursting out laughing. “I do know that she spent some time with an entertainer while she was there.”
“You were going to give us some background on Natalie and Naw-naw,” Gooch said. “So that my bro and me will know their interests.”
“Well, let’s see. Natalie’s only real interest is sex.” Okay, I didn’t say it. Instead, I said, “Natalie likes men, fashion, and food, in that order.”
“No problemo,” Glade said. “We might not be tens on the fashionista scale but we’re off the charts in the other two categories.”
“As for Naw-naw…” I paused, searching for something appropriate to say. “She’s kind of an international woman of mystery. Her tastes are very eclectic. I think you’ll find her to be unique, maybe even one of a kind.”
“Wow, we’re like the perfect match for both those hotties,” Gooch said to Glade. “We’re going to make this a date to remember.”
Oh, you have no idea just how memorable it’s going to be.
The brothers high-fived one another and started to argue about which one was going to hook-up with Naw-naw as the club’s manager came over. I showed Avery Chilton my ID and explained why we were there. He was a little on the heavy side, which surprised me given his position.
After Chilton checked a computerized database behind the reception counter he came back over to us. “Yes, we have a record of Jeremy Shulman being a club member, but I don’t personally…”
“I know him,” a young woman said from behind the counter. “He’s usually here on the weekends. He sometimes works out with the trainers.”
I walked over to the blonde twenty-something
woman and read her nametag. “Can you tell me anything about him, Madison. Maybe who he works out with, his friends?”
“I can tell you that he’s not very nice. He was in an argument with one of the trainers a few weeks ago and nearly started a fight.”
“Who was the trainer?” Chilton asked. As if to explain the question, he turned to me and said, “We pride ourselves on keeping a professional working environment.”
“It was Andy Cecil,” Madison said. She turned back to me. “I think he’s upstairs if you’d like to talk to him.”
We found Shulman’s former trainer in a weight room doing a group session with a half-dozen people. After filling him in on why we were there, Cecil said, “I think I saw his Hummer in the parking lot yesterday.” He scratched his bald head, flexed. “Wait a minute. I think it was still in the lot when I got to work this morning.” Cecil went on to tell us Shulman was a bully, always looking to cause trouble.
While Charlie and Pearl went with the trainer to check the parking lot, the brothers and I began asking around the gym about Shulman. Several club members knew of him and nothing they had to say was very flattering. One man described him as being two hundred pounds of mean.
I got a radio call from Charlie that they’d found Shulman’s Hummer. He was telling me they planned to impound it and get a warrant when we heard someone screaming on one of the upper floors of the club. Bernie immediately alerted, pulling against the leash in my hand.
“I hope this isn’t another Newt-type situation,” Gooch said as we all scrambled over to the stairway. “I might have to go out on a stress leave if it is.”
“I’ll watch your face if you watch mine,” Glade offered.
We found a woman at the top of the stairway, blathering incoherently. I handed Bernie’s leash to Gooch, went over to her and said, “Take a breath. Tell me what’s happening.”
She gulped in air, her voice a high-pitched squeal. “It’s some kind of accident…there’s blood…oh God…” She pointed down the hallway where a door to what looked like one of the private workout rooms was open. “I think someone’s…de…dead.”