Drop Dead Lola

by Melissa Bourbon

  “Tell me,” Manny said.

  I recounted the strange staring and creepy vibes, and about what Aaron had said at the baseball game memorial. I ended with, “Something’s not right with him.”

  Reilly sat down at the conference table, riveted, and rested her chin on her fist. “You think he could have killed Philip and made it look like suicide?” she asked.

  I stared at the whiteboard and my notes. After a few seconds, I nodded my head. “I do.”

  Manny rocked back on his heels, arms folded over his chest, the case file still secure under his arm. “You need to eliminate suicide, Dolores. Can you?”

  In my mind, I already had, but now I moved to a blank space at the left side of the whiteboard and wrote down my thoughts discounting the idea of Philip taking his own life.

  Difficult—or impossible—for Philip to climb up the tree during a storm and secure the rope

  No motive—unless…late bills? Financial trouble?

  Ready to settle down: proposed to Gemma, told friends he wanted to be a father, even did genetic testing for that, Gemma has wedding gown

  No sign of depression

  Had just started business

  Family that loved him

  Marnie might also be a victim

  That last point was the strongest. Well, and the storm. But if someone had actually tried to kill Marnie because she was poking around—or had gotten me to poke around—in her son’s death, then obviously Philip hadn’t died by suicide.

  I capped the pen and turned to face Manny and Reilly. “There’s not exactly a clear path. Yet.”

  Reilly stared at the board, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Couldn’t Philip have climbed the tree to hang the rope himself?”

  “I don’t think so. I climbed that tree. I needed a boost—”

  “Ooo, from Jack?” Reilly asked, but I ignored her.

  “—and even then it was really tough. Getting down was worse. Scary.”

  Manny’s eyes turned to slits, but whatever he was thinking, he refrained from saying it.

  “Could he have put the rope up before the storm hit?” Reilly asked.

  I’d asked myself the same question. “Of course it’s possible, but look. He’d have to have kept the rope piled on the branch so nobody would see it. A noose hanging down would draw some attention. So let’s say he did that. Scaled the tree, tied the rope, and wrapped it around the branch or piled it on top. When he came to the park to do the deed, he’d have to be able to get it down again so he could use it. He could have climbed the tree, but not in that storm. At least I don’t see how.”

  “Maybe he brought something with him,” Reilly suggested. “A pole with a hook.”

  I’d thought about that, too. “But nothing like that was found, and he couldn’t have made it disappear.”

  Reilly frowned. “Oh. Right.”

  Manny looked from me to the whiteboard, and back to me. “Keep at it. The path will become clear.”

  I certainly hoped so.

  “So, what’s next?” Reilly asked after Manny disappeared back into his office.

  That was a good question. “I’m going to go through the baseball roster—just in case there is a serial killer on it, or something.”

  Reilly feigned horror. “God, I hope not!”

  “Yeah, unlikely,” I said, although Aaron popped into my head unbidden.

  “Any, you know, adventures up and coming? You know, like a nudist resort or a salsa club?”

  Compared to a few of my past cases, this one was on the dull side. “Not that I can think of. Sorry.”

  But then an idea came to me. “Unless…”

  She jumped up from her chair. “I’m in. I am so in. I’m in, Lola.”

  I laughed. “Um, Reilly, are you in?”

  “So. In.”

  “Don’t you want to know what it is first before you commit?”

  She tapped her lips with her index finger and looked at the ceiling. “Nope,” she said after a five second pause. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”

  “Just kidding, Reilly. Nothing to buy in on right now.”

  Reilly’s face fell. “Don’t do that to me, Lola. I was so excited.”

  I squeezed her hand. “The next big adventure I think of, you’ll be the first to know.”

  That placated her some. She nodded, satisfied.

  “Working hard, I see,” someone said from behind us.

  We turned at the voice only to see Sadie Metcalf waltz in, red nails as sharp as claws and matched to her lipstick. I hadn’t laid eyes on her since I’d learned about Quetzal, the little miniature pistol of a daughter she shared with Manny. Now, I looked at my coworker with new eyes. She was attractive, I couldn’t deny that. She could have been Reese Witherspoon’s sister, only with short choppy hair. And a nasty disposition.

  But if I thought about it objectively, why was Sadie so nasty? Was that really her personality, or was it just the side of her we got to see thanks to the baggage she shared with Manny and the dark side she brought out in him? They must have been in love once upon a time. They’d been married, shared a business—and a daughter, but now they were divorced. Sadie had to see her ex all the time. That had to be hard. And it had to bring out the worst in her when she was here.

  “Just helping Lola on a case,” Reilly said. She either hadn’t registered—or was choosing to ignore—Sadie’s tone.

  Sadie crooked her finger, beckoning Reilly. “Can I see you for a minute? Please.”

  Reilly lifted her eyebrows as she shot me an Uh oh, I’m in trouble now look, but she just sighed and followed Sadie to the small kitchen in the back. I was dying to know what the big secret was, but I’d have to wait.

  Not for long, it turned out. Sadie strode out of the kitchenette and waltzed right past me with a fluttery wave of her fingers and a, “Ta ta, Dolores.”

  Reilly came out after her, her normal zip gone from her step. She looked suddenly distressed.

  “What was that about?” I asked her after I was sure the front door had closed behind Sadie.

  She glanced at Manny’s closed door before turning her back to it, then dropped her voice to a low whisper. “She wants my help with something.”

  I matched my voice to hers. “What kind of something?”

  “It’s about…Quetzal.”

  Anything involving the little girl Sadie shared with Manny, and secretly involving Reilly, couldn’t be good. “What about her?”

  “Custody,” she said in a raspy hiss.

  “As in, she wants more?”

  Reilly threw another backwards glance at Manny’s office. “She wants all. Full custody.”

  I stared. “No way. She wants to take Manny’s daughter from him?”

  Reilly’s eyes flew open wide. She pressed her finger to her lips. “Oh my God, Lola, shhh!” But it was too late. Manny’s door flew open, the slats of the blinds on the window rattling from the force his energy.

  He stopped short for a moment. Reilly and I both froze, but he didn’t seem to actually see us. Had he heard? Ay dios. It looked like he’d heard.

  Reilly spoke tentatively. “Jefe?”

  Manny walked past us.

  I tried. “Manny?”

  No response. Oh yeah, he’d definitely heard me. He rounded the corner and a second later we heard the door swoosh closed. In a flash, Reilly and I ran after him, stopping at the glass windows. I stared. Reilly pressed her palms and the tip of her nose against the glass. Her shoulders sagged. “Is he going after her?”

  God, I hoped not. The rage in Manny’s eyes—and the flames that might shoot from them like a weapon—was not something I’d wish on anyone—even Sadie. Maybe especially Sadie, given that she was the mother of his child.

  “What is Sadie thinking?” I asked. “Is she claiming h
e’s unfit? What would make a judge change their custody agreement?”

  I hadn’t expected Reilly to have an answer for me. She didn’t disappoint, but she did prattle on about what she did know. “We weren’t here when they were married, but I think I know what happened between them.”

  “You do? How?”

  “Hang around detectives long enough, you start to pick up some skills. And you know, I’ve been spending a lot of time—I mean A LOT of time—with Neil. I ought to be fully licensed at this rate.”

  “So what happened between them?”

  As she always did before she was about to give some chisme, Reilly scanned the room and looked over her shoulder to make sure we were still alone.

  “They didn’t sneak back in without us seeing,” I said, wanting her to spill the gossip.

  She brushed back a few wayward strands of her lavender-gray hair. “You can never be too careful with those two, Lola. Manny’s a master detective, and Sadie, well, she’s a master something.”

  I couldn’t have said it better myself. Sadie was a study in contradictions. She was snarky and biting and seemed to have a special disdain for me, always so ready to cut down my detective skills. But she could be helpful, too, if she wanted to be. Granted, it had only happened once, but the fact that it had happened meant she had a heart in that tiny pixie body of hers somewhere.

  “How long were they married?” I asked.

  “El jefe never told me, and Sadie just said that she’s blocked out those years, so I don’t know. I do think she’s a good mother though.”

  “What makes you think so?” I said, but deep down, I suspected that she was probably a great mother. I knew from my own family, and from Gracie’s newborn, that a mother’s love for her child knows no boundaries and is instantaneous. The moment that little bundle comes into the world with sweet little puckered lips and curious eyes, it was nothing but love. Sadie would be no different in that respect.

  “I’ve seen her with Quetzal. She talks to her. Normal, not like she talks to anyone here. She’s nice. She’s sweet, even.”

  And there you had it. It was a side of her that we didn’t see, but motherhood had apparently—and not surprisingly—brought out the best in Sadie. Except for the fact that she apparently wanted to strip Manny out of his daughter’s life. That was no bueno.

  “Are you sure she wants full custody?” I asked.

  Reilly ticked off on her finger as she spoke. “First, when I was babysitting for her at her house—”

  “She has a house?”

  “Yeah. Little bungalow in Land Park. I think el jefe forks over some hefty alimony.”

  Huh. I wouldn’t have thought that he made enough with the business to support himself, his daughter, and his ex-wife. “Back to your story,” I said. “You were babysitting…”

  “And I answered the phone while she was gone—”

  “She has a landline?”

  Reilly’s eyes opened wide. “I know, right? Who has a landline, but she said she keeps it in case of emergency. Anyway, I answered the call and it was a family law attorney.”

  “Okay,” I said. That didn’t prove that she was trying to change the custody agreement, though.

  “The lawyer told me to tell Sadie that she’d gotten her message and would work on the new arrangement.”

  Again, I thought, that didn’t prove anything. “Did this lawyer say what the new arrangement was? Maybe it wasn’t about custody at all.”

  “When I gave Sadie the message, she snatched the note out of my hand and tried to brush it off. She said, and I quote: ‘Not everyone is cut out to be a parent.’”

  That did sound like a slam against Manny.

  “Second,” she said, ticking off another finger, “Quetzal told me she wasn’t seeing her dad as much. So Sadie’s already started cutting him out.”

  There could be a lot of reasons for that, I thought. Manny could be busy. He could be working a case we didn’t know about.

  “I know every single case we have,” Reilly said when I told her my thoughts. “No way is he working something—”

  “Unless it’s off book,” I said.

  She looked horrified, as if the idea of Manny working a case she was unaware of was worse than Sadie trying to take custody of Quetzal. “You mean under the table?” She shook her head, strands of hair breaking free from her ponytail. “Uh uh, no way. He wouldn’t do that.”

  I wasn’t as convinced as she was. “Why not?”

  “Manny Camacho may look like a gangster, but he’s a businessman. He does everything—and I mean ev-ery-thing—above board. Losing time with Quetzal is going to kill him,” she said.

  “So you answered a phone call from Sadie’s lawyer, and Quetzal hasn’t seen as much of her dad lately. Do you think Sadie’s keeping her away from Manny?”

  Reilly nodded and ticked another item off her fingers. “Third, I was supposed to babysit for Manny twice, and he cancelled.” She looked at me pointedly. “He said Sadie had ended up keeping Quetzal.”

  I paced the length of the conference table, raking my fingers through my hair before spinning to face her again. “Reilly, none of that proves anything. What if Manny’s going to confront Sadie right this very minute, and she’s not even thinking about changing the custody agreement?”

  “The lawyer, Lola. I talked to her lawyer.”

  “That could have been about a case, not necessarily about their own situation.”

  Reilly’s jaw dropped and her face paled. She slapped her hands against her cheeks. “Oh my God, Lola. You’re right. We have to stop him.”

  We did? “We do?”

  “Yes! He can’t confront Sadie when I don’t even know if I’m right!” She jumped up, snatched her purse from the drawer in her desk, and flew out the door.

  I was right on her heels. “Where are you going?” I hollered.

  She stopped at the passenger side of my car. “We, Lola. We have to catch up to Manny.”

  “Okay, wait, how did I get involved in this?”

  “You’re the one who announced the custody battle so el jefe could hear!”

  I started to object, but slammed my mouth shut instead. She was right. She’d whispered, but I’d blurted it out at full volume. The fault belonged to both of us. I unlocked the car with a beep and jumped in the driver’s side. Reilly got in the passenger side. A minute later I was driving, and she was directing me to Sadie’s house in the Land Park area of town.

  From the looks of Sadie’s bungalow, the house couldn’t have been more than a thousand square feet and maybe two bedrooms. Manny’s truck was parked right in front. Reilly hung her head. “I’m gonna get fired,” she moaned.

  “No you’re not,” I said, although I sounded more confident than I felt. I was not at all sure Manny wouldn’t fire us both for sticking our noses where they didn’t belong.

  Slowly, as if we were two death row inmates walking the green mile toward our executions, Reilly and I made our way up the walkway to the front door. We could hear faint voices coming from inside. I couldn’t tell if they were agitated or not. My gut was saying they were, and that it was my fault. My fault. My fault. My fault. The refrain kept repeating in my head. I gave Reilly a withering look before I raised my hand and knocked.

  The door yanked open. Reilly and I jumped back. Her feet tangled under her and she lost her balance. I grabbed hold of her elbow, bent my legs, and used my body weight to keep her upright.

  Sadie stood in the threshold glaring at us. No concern for Reilly and her near fall. No curiosity about our presence on her doorstep. Just outright disdain.

  “Sorry to barge in,” I began, but she held up her palm and the words caught in my throat.

  Before either Reilly or I could say anything more, Manny appeared behind Sadie. Looking at them together in such a different setting than the office was
disconcerting. Suddenly I could picture them together as husband and wife, even if neither of their expressions gave any sense of that being part of their history.

  A high-pitched scream came from somewhere in the house and a second later, a young girl who looked to be around seven, scooted herself in front of Sadie. I’d seen the girl’s olive skin and rosebud mouth when I’d caught a glimpse of her in the back of Manny’s truck a while back, but now, up close and personal, there was not a single ounce of doubt who her mother and father were. In fact, I’m not sure how I could have ever missed it.

  “Ry-Ry!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Reilly.

  Reilly returned the hug, then ruffled the little girl’s hair. “Hey, sugarplum. Why are you home from school?”

  The little girl made a show of sniffling. “I’m sick.”

  Reilly ruffled her hair. “Aw. Poor little thing.”

  I expected Sadie to roll her eyes, but she didn’t. She laid a gentle hand on her daughter’s shoulder and said, “She’ll be just fine in no time.”

  The little girl looked up at me. “Who is she?” she asked, pulling back and pointing at me.

  Sadie offered up the answer. “Someone Mama and Papa work with, lovey.” Her voice sounded much softer and sweeter than I would have expected given the renewed terseness of her expression.

  Mama and Papa. Sadie and Manny. ¡Vaya! Just, yeah, wow. There was nothing else to say. They were mama and papa to this little girl.

  “Quetzali,” Manny said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it, “go check the chickens, mi amor, ya?”

  The chickens? As in…chickens?

  “Check the chickens, collect the eggs, check the chickens, collect the eggs,” Quetzal said in a sing-song voice. She scampered off, singing at full volume.

  Reilly leaned over and whispered in my ear. “They have chickens.”

  The arch of my brows and my nod told her I’d figured that bit of information out for myself.

  “What are you doing here?” Sadie snapped the second Quetzal was out of earshot.