“-- it meant Laurie must have taken something that belonged to my mother,” Liz concluded, “which is why my mother attacked Laurie and not the others.”
***
Liz listlessly pushed the uneaten food around on her plate. She wasn’t really hungry. Her meeting earlier today with Eve and Kate Stanton had left her more rattled than she cared to admit. For one thing, although she had fully expected to hate them on sight, she found that she couldn’t. Sure, Eve had been defensive about her daughter, but that was hardly surprising, given the circumstances. And there seemed to be something fundamentally decent about Kate Stanton. She didn’t know what to make of her feelings for the Stantons any more than she could figure out why her mother had been at Kate Stanton’s house in the first place. Hoping that a walk would help put things into perspective, she opened her front door and was surprised to see Otis standing there.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked guardedly. Liz had tried calling him to tell him about the surprise visit from the Stantons, but he never returned her call.
“Sorry I didn’t call back,” he told her. “I’ve been kind of busy.”
“That’s okay,” she replied coolly. “You don’t have to explain.”
“Yeah, right,” he mocked her, “like I can’t feel the temperature in the room suddenly take a nosedive.”
“What do you want, Ote?” she asked, not feeling up to a verbal sparring with him. “I was about to go out for a walk.”
“It can wait,” he told her firmly. Stepping into her apartment, he closed the door behind him. “I have to tell you about my day.”
She gave him a scornful look. “Not that you give a shit about mine.”
“If I didn’t give a shit about yours, I wouldn’t have been out there today on my day off, busting my ass doing detective work,” he retorted.
“Detective work?” she asked blankly. “What detective work?”
He looked shamefaced. “The kind that went down in flames.”
Without another word, she planted Otis on her sofa and went and got him a plate of freshly-made oatmeal cookies. “Okay, spill your guts.”
He picked up a cookie and brought it up to his nose, inhaling deeply. “Mmmm. Pure ambrosia.” He finished off the cookie in two giant bites. “I felt kind of guilty about what you’d said to me the other day about friendship so I decided to play gumshoe.”
She looked at him sharply. “What?”
“Well, remember that guy whose car was stolen and used in the hit and run?”
Liz nodded. “A guy called Paco something or other.”
“Ramierez,” confirmed Otis, helping himself to another cookie. “Anyway, I found him in Compton. He drives a bus for the city.”
“How did you manage that?” she asked in amazement.
“It wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “Do you know how many listings for Ramierez there are in Compton?” Without waiting for her answer, he continued. “Anyway, I went to his house, and asked to speak with him.”
“Like he would want to talk to you,” she cut in.
“His wife thought I was a reporter,” he told her sheepishly.
“A reporter!”
“It wasn’t like I lied to her or anything,” he clarified quickly. “When I told her I was following up on the whereabouts of Paco’s car, she jumped to the conclusion that I was a reporter.”
“And you just never bothered setting her straight,” Liz concluded.
“Do you want to hear what happened or not?” he asked.
“Continue.”
“Anyway, she was the one who told me her husband drove a bus for the city and even gave me his route. I got on his bus after lunch, rode around for a while, and when his bus was almost empty, I asked him to meet me for a cup of coffee after his shift ended.”
Liz’s eyes were big as saucers. “And he agreed?”
Otis grinned at her. “His wife had already called ahead and warned him I was coming so yeah, he agreed to meet with me.”
“What did he say?” asked Liz impatiently, eager to hear the rest of it.
“I’m getting to that part,” he told her with exaggerated patience. “Do you have anything to wash down the cookie?”
Liz jumped up and got him a can of soda. “Now will you continue?”
“Well, this is the part where I crash and burn.” He took a healthy slug from the soda can. “I hate to admit it, but Paco seemed on the up and up. Over coffee, he gave me the condensed version of his life story about how he came from Mexico with his wife and three kids. His first job in L.A. was working under the table as a restaurant busboy while his wife worked as a maid for an industry couple over in Pacific Palisades. He later quit his bussing job to go work as their gardener. Then the Bauers, that’s the couple, split up and both he and his wife were out of a job. They cut their losses and moved to Compton where the city had an immigrant apprenticeship program which he got into once they became naturalized citizens. Eventually, Paco got a job driving a city bus. He seems like a nice enough guy who’s happy with his life.”
“Did you ask him how his car got stolen?” Liz asked.
“Yeah, I asked him,” Otis confirmed. “He told me it was stolen from the parking lot at Ralph’s while his wife was inside buying groceries. When she came out, it was gone. Actually, Paco’s pretty bent out of shape since he found out his car was used in a hit and run.”
“So, all that work basically led to a dead end,” said Liz dejectedly. She gave Otis a grateful hug. “Thank you for trying.”
“Fat good it did you,” he remarked balefully.
“Well, I have to admit that between your detective work and my meeting with the Stantons, I’ve got more questions than answers right now.”
“Did you say the Stantons?”
“I’ll tell you while we’re walking.”
“Everyone at work misses you, by the way.” Otis looked at Liz closely. “How much longer do you plan on not talking with everyone?”
“I talk to our friends,” she told him defensively. “You make it sound as though I’ve shut myself off from everyone.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” He reached into his back pocket and held out something to her. “It’s from all of us.”
Liz stared at the ticket in his hand. “It’s for Jericho’s Last Stand at Sins nightclub!”
Otis was beaming. “Yup. And we’re all taking you for your birthday. Luckily, Kim’s boyfriend’s a bartender there and he was able to hook us up with some tickets, otherwise we would’ve been shit out of luck. They’re the hottest tickets in town.”
Liz had completely forgotten about her birthday next week and was touched that her friends had remembered. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll come.”
“How can I refuse an invite like that?” she asked softly.
“All right!” he exclaimed, picking her up and twirling her around before planting a kiss on her lips.
“What was that for?” she asked breathlessly.
“I guess I was winging it.”
Smiling up at him, she kissed him right back.
“What was that for?” he asked, a dazed look on his face.
“I guess I was going with the flow!”
CHAPTER 29
Karen was on edge. She was in the shallow end of the pool and about to get out when the patio door finally opened and Spic came out.
“Hey,” she called out.
“Hey yourself,” said Spic. “Nice view you got here.”
“I’m used to it.” Karen watched as Spic turned and glanced towards the house nervously. “You can relax. Mom’s at a meeting downtown and our housekeeper doesn’t give a shit about who comes and goes.”
“Who said I was uptight?” asked Spic, finally sitting down by the edge of the pool.
“It’s actually Laurie who my mother doesn’t like,” Karen confided. “She doesn’t have problems with any of my other friends.”
Her words
seemed to make Spic a little more comfortable. Karen had purposefully picked a time when she knew her mother wouldn’t be at home. Had Eve known what Karen was up to, she would’ve wanted to be there but Karen needed to handle this on her own. Although Spic hadn’t been around the day the woman was killed, she figured Spic would know the deal with Laurie. The two of them had always been tight.
“There’s something you need to know about Laurie.” Spic trailed her good hand through the water.
The mention of Laurie’s name had obviously done the trick. “Oh yeah?” Karen pulled herself gracefully out of the pool, forcing herself to act as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Grabbing her towel, she tied it around her middle before going to sit beside her friend. “What about her?”
Spic looked away, nervously fidgeting with the ring on her wet hand. “She did something.”
Karen’s heart missed a beat. “What did she do?”
“Something pretty much fucked.” Spic lit a joint, inhaled deeply and offered it to Karen.
“That’s hardly a big surprise.” The last thing Karen wanted to do was mess up her head, yet knew that Spic would become suspicious if she held back. She took a quick tote, trying not to inhale. “So what’d she do?”
Spic took another deep drag, before exhaling slowly. “She stole something.”
Karen played along, trying to keep it light. “Is that all? It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“You don’t fucking get it.” Her friend shook her head in agitation, trying to fight the effects of the grass. “She stole the old lady’s necklace!”
“What old lady?” Spic made to get up but Karen grabbed her arm. “Come on, Spic. Which old lady?”
“The one who was killed,” Spic whispered. What was left of the joint was close to burning her newly sewn finger but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Are you shitting me?” By this time, Karen’s heart was hammering against her ribcage. She could hardly breathe. “She fucking stole something from the homeless woman?”
Her friend nodded. “A necklace made from some coins.”
“That stupid bitch!” Karen’s eyes blazed with fury. The time for being cool was over. “I even asked Laurie about it but she lied to my face! That stupid lying bitch!”
“I guess the old broad was going to leave it in the mailbox but then you guys interrupted her. Laurie found it in the pocket of her pants when she searched her.”
Karen closed her eyes for a minute, trying to process what she’d just heard. So the woman’s daughter had been right all along. “That’s just great! Laurie had something of the woman’s all the time.
“Not on her, she didn’t,” Spic told her. “Laurie hid it just outside the gate, under the trash cans while you were chasing the old broad. That’s why the cops didn’t find it.”
“Meanwhile, my family thinks I’m lying to save my own skin.” Suddenly, Karen jumped up, knowing what she had to do. Her mother would be pissed she was taking matters into her own hands but she’d get over it once Karen had the necklace.
“Where are you going?” asked Spic, following her.
“Where do you think I’m going?” Karen asked sarcastically. “To get back the necklace.”
“No!”
Karen stopped dead in her tracks. “What do you mean by “no”?”
“I mean that if you just show up and demand the necklace from Laurie, she’s going to freak out and not give it to you.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Karen admitted. She looked at Spic in desperation. “What am I going to do? I’ve got to get that necklace back.”
Spic looked at Karen strangely. “What’s the big deal about some stupid necklace?”
“That necklace may be the answer as to why someone wanted to kill that woman.” She made up her mind. “Okay. Scrap Plan A. I think I’m just going to let the cops deal with Laurie.”
“You can’t!” Spic looked at Karen. “If Laurie thinks she’s cornered, she may even get rid of it and then you’ll never see the necklace again.”
“What am I going to do then?” Karen wailed. “I’ve got to get my hands on that necklace!”
“I know how to get it back,” Spic told her. “Let’s call it Plan B.”
***
The morning had gone well enough. Kate had spent it with her crew of volunteers sorting through the countless boxes of donations for the auction. It was amazing how many costumes, gowns and memorabilia had been amassed. It all had to be sorted, laundered, catalogued and housed before the auction and while today’s efforts put them well under way, there was still a lot of work that had to be done. The problems all started when Kate had come into the office in the afternoon. One of the buyers for a prime piece of property in Malibu wanted to back out, there was a problem with the escrow papers on a Brentwood listing, the photocopier was on the blitz and Beth, who had the Midas touch in dealing with problems such as these, was out sick.
As Kate dealt with each problem, she found herself thinking about the young woman, Liz Farrell. She wasn’t all that much older than Karen and while Liz had certainly put up a tough front, especially when they’d first arrived at her apartment, that toughness had eventually fallen away, revealing a vulnerable young woman with expressive, pain-filled eyes.
The exact nature of Liz’s relationship with her mother was also an enigma, as far as Kate was concerned. She had professed a deep love for her, which appeared to be genuine, and yet her mother had been living on the streets, despite her mental incapacity, or maybe because of it. Liz appeared to have the means to look after her mother, if her apartment was anything to go by, yet the want ads she’d seen on Liz’s coffee table had bothered her. Had she lost her job recently or had the circumstances surrounding her mother’s death somehow resulted in Liz becoming jobless?
Kate wasn’t one to over-analyze a situation but maybe it had been guilt or just the realization that their office could use an extra body that had prompted her to offer Liz a job as their office assistant a few minutes ago. While Eve hadn’t been crazy about the idea when Kate had first raised it, it hadn’t taken much coaxing on her part to make Eve come around. Liz, on the other hand, had been caught off guard by Kate’s offer and had requested a few days to think about it. Kate sighed. It was ironic how life had a way of working out sometimes.
***
Eve Stanton drove through the gates of the Swanson Estate. She had another showing scheduled in fifteen minutes and hoped it went much better than her last one had with Calvin Davidson. Eve had just pulled up in front of the house when a limousine braked quietly behind her. She got out of the car, smoothing her skirt over her thighs before walking over to greet the male occupant alighting from the limousine.
Irving Johnson was impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit that could have rivaled that of any corporate shark on Wall Street. He possessed an air of control and exuded confidence in every movement he made, befitting the owner of Reinhart Studios.
“Mr. Johnson,” Eve held out her hand, “how very nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Stanton.” His handshake was as no-nonsense as his demeanor. “I hope my not going through the usual channels didn’t cause you undue difficulties.”
“Not at all,” Eve replied pleasantly. “I hardly would’ve expected you to, given your studio’s relationship with Paul Wagner and his production company.”
“Yes,” he acknowledged candidly, “Reinhart’s relationship with Paul has proven to be quite profitable for both of us.”
“Have you known Paul long?” she asked.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he began walking. “Paul and I had worked together on several projects when we were both young men, just starting out in the industry,” he told her companionably.
Eve digested this piece of information in silence. “Shall we walk through the grounds first?” she suggested.
“By all means,” he concurred, letting her lead the way through the well-manicured lawns to where the impressi
ve infinity pool sparkled in the California sun.
“Makes quite a statement, wouldn’t you say?” he asked, his razor-sharp eyes missing nothing.
“This estate leaves its owner wanting for nothing,” Eve told him, keeping conversation to a minimum.
“I never dreamed this estate would be so expansive,” he muttered to himself as his eyes darted this way and that. He pointed off to the left. “Is that an orchard?”
She nodded. “Oranges and lemons with the odd swan or two.”
“A tree or two, I expected,” he confided to her in delight, “but an entire orchard is quite remarkable really, just like all this wisteria clinging to everything.” He fingered the delicate blooms with gentle fingers.
“That’s exactly what I thought when I first saw the house!” Eve told him excitedly.
“Reminds me of the early days when the first pioneers of film came to California with nothing more than their dreams. All that was here in those days was sunshine and orange groves,” he reminisced.
“I would think those days were before your time,” Eve quipped.
“True enough, young lady,” he acquiesced, looking directly at her. “Although I must admit I’m closer to that generation than to your own.”
She found herself blushing at his blatant appraisal. “I think any generation can appreciate the beauty of this property which, even for this city, is a rarity.” She pointed to the other side of the lawn. “To the right of the pool and cabana are extensive formal gardens. We can view the gardens with the golf cart, unless you’d rather walk.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I’d prefer to see the interior for now,” he told her, wiping the sweat from his brow with a pristine handkerchief. “I have a particular weakness for Tuscan architecture.”
“Then we should go inside,” Eve suggested. “Paul’s done extensive renovations to the house yet he’s managed to maintain much of its integrity and charm.”
Eve opened the front door and waited expectantly for his reaction. She was not disappointed.
“Quite magnificent, actually,” he enthused. “That painting compliments the foyer rather beautifully, doesn’t it? It creates the illusion of the vaulted ceiling soaring up to the heavens.”
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