Coffee & Crime (9 page)

I popped the final bite of hotdog into my mouth and started on the onion rings. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're a little on the nosy side?"

Ted furrowed his brow and leaned back. "Sorry, is this a sore subject?"

I sighed. "Sometimes things you expect to happen don't. And things you don't expect to happen do. Know what I mean?"

He laughed. "Not really." He grabbed an onion ring and popped it into his mouth. "You care to explain that, or do you like being mysterious?"

Now it was my turn to laugh. "Mysterious? Are you kidding? I'm an open book."

He polished off his Yoo-Hoo and stared at the alley that ran behind the building. "Okay, mysterious it is."

"Don't take it personally. We just met." I tapped his arm and grinned. "Do you really want to hear all my problems?"

He touched my hand again. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

I gathered up our trash and put it all into the cardboard carton our food had come in. "I think you've helped more than enough." I held his gaze. "Why did you do that? Fix Zelda's car?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, maybe I'm just a nice guy." I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you don't believe in nice guys?"

"I've heard they exist." I propped an elbow on the table and rested my chin on my cold hand. "Zelda thinks it's because you want to date me."

Ted looked at his big hands and grinned. In the dim light it was hard to be sure, but I think he blushed. "That Zelda is quite a girl." I said nothing. His eyes slid back in my direction. "Maybe I was trying to tip the odds in my favor. A little."

I gaped. "Wow, that's an expensive dating technique. Most guys just offer to buy you a drink."

He hunched a shoulder. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. And the accident was my fault."

His admission made me uneasy. "So helping damsels in distress, is that your thing? Do you do this often? Are you stalking me?"

Ted recoiled. "No! I've never done anything like this before. You two seemed so lost and upset. And fixing the car seemed the least I could do. I felt bad. I just wanted to help."

I scrutinized him. "So the dating part was an afterthought? Like, hey I fixed their car, maybe I could get a little action too?" I gathered the trash and started for the dumpster. "Gee, I’m so flattered."

Ted followed me. "No, it wasn't like that. Do you have trust issues?"

I pivoted back toward him. "Screw you."

I stomped to the dumpster but he caught up to me in two strides and grabbed my arm. "Scotti. Stop." I stopped and stared at the ground fuming. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. You're right, it's weird. Who does that? Nobody, right?" He tilted my chin upward to look at him. "I can't explain it. I knew I had to find a way to see you again." He shrugged. "I mean, look at yourself. Can you blame a guy for trying?"

I looked into his eyes and saw only sincerity there. Still, I wasn't ready to throw caution to the wind. "Okay. Sorry I said, screw you. That was rude."

The rain picked up and my hair was like a sponge soaking it in. I pulled up the hood of my parka. "Let's dump the trash and go."

We walked to the dumpster, Ted lifted the lid and I pitched in the trash. Then the dumpster yelped. I got up on tip-toes to look inside. "What was that?" The dumpster growled. "Crap, I hope it's not a raccoon."

Ted pulled a pocket flashlight out of his jacket and shined it inside. "I'll be damned."

I tried to see inside but the dumpster was too high for me to get a good look. "What is it?"

Ted hoisted himself over the edge of the dumpster and reached down inside. "Come here, boy. It's okay. Don't be scared." When he propelled himself off the dumpster, he had a tiny, scared and very dirty dog nestled in the crook of his arm. "Definitely not a raccoon."

I reached for him. "Oh, puppy!"

Ted stepped back. "You should be careful, he might be sick or worse."

I ignored Ted and snatched the dog away from him. "What's your name, little boy?"

The poor little thing trembled but he licked my face and wagged his stub like I was his best friend. "Doesn't anybody love you? Well I love you. You're coming home with me."

His stub wagged double-time and he yapped a happy bark. He weighed about eight pounds, was black with brown markings on his snout and his floppy ears reminded me of a Disney cartoon character. He had no collar and was skin and bones. Clearly nobody cared what happened to him. It didn't matter if he climbed into the dumpster for food and warmth or had been thrown away like a piece of trash, I wouldn't abandon him. I unzipped my jacket and tucked him inside. "Poor thing, he's freezing."

Ted walked me to the car and unlocked the door. I climbed inside holding the little dog to my chest. When Ted got in on the driver's side, he handed me an old sweatshirt. "Wrap him in this. It'll warm him up a little." He started the car, turned the heater on full blast and backed out of the parking space. Ted glanced over. "Are you going to keep him?"

I wrapped the dog in the sweat shirt, using the sleeve to wipe the dirt off his snout. "What else?"

Ted pulled out onto La Brea and eased into traffic. "A shelter?"

I held the trembling creature close to me and felt his little beating heart. "He needs a home and I always wanted a dog, so no need to bring a shelter into it." I hugged the little guy to my chest. "You're not a piece of trash, you're my puppy, right Boomer?"

Ted snorted. "Boomer?"

I grinned. "It's as good a name as any." I peered through the rain-streaked window. "Now, we need to find an all-night drug store so we can pick up supplies."

<<>>

By the time we got back to my house, it was three a.m. but I was wide awake. I zipped around the kitchen like a new mother bringing baby home for the first time.

Boomer didn't like the bath in the kitchen sink or the blow dry afterwards. But once he was clean and dry and wolfing down a can of dog food, he seemed right at home.

Ted and I sat at the butcher-block island, drinking coffee. I beamed at the bundle of fur at my feet. "Isn't he adorable?" He was too. After a serious clean up, Boomer was one shiny, fluffy, little canine.

Ted nodded and grinned. "If I climbed into a dumpster would you rescue me?"

I blushed in a girly way. "Are you asking me to give you a bath? Because I'm pretty sure you won't fit in the kitchen sink."

But the sound of bumping and stomping turned our attention toward the living room. Zelda stumbled into the kitchen fisting her eyes. "What the hell time is it?" She shuffled over to the coffee pot, poured herself a cup and slumped in a stool at the butcher-block. "Morning."

"Go back to bed, it's not time to get up."

"You're up." She made a face at Ted. "What's he doing here?"

Boomer yapped and got into a fight with Zelda's slipper. "Is that a dog?" She shook her foot to free her slipper.

Boomer scurried over to me. I scooped him up and put him in my lap. "This is Boomer. Our dog. Boomer, this is your Aunt Zelda."

Zelda looked around in confusion. "How the hell long was I asleep?"

Thursday morning, Zelda and I rode with six other servers in Marsha Conroy's catering van. We all wore the universal catering uniform of tuxedo shirts, bowties and black trousers
—
hair pulled back into tight buns, no jewelry and unpolished fingernails. Marsha ran a tight ship and was a big fan of the seen but not noticed school of thought when it came to her servers. We were to blend rather than stand out
—
ubiquitous but unmemorable.

I didn't mind, her approach generally prevented drunk guests from hitting on you and offering you big tips for items that weren't strictly speaking, on the menu. She paid well, so the lure of tips was inconsequential and the anonymity made it easier to do the job. It was a four-hour gig — three hours of serving and one hour of clean up. Then back in the van to her office, where we'd get two hundred bucks each and maybe a bonus if the service went well.

The van bumped along on crappy L.A. roads and I hoped it was a short ride because riding in the back of a paneled van reminded me of that one time Zelda and I were sent to Juvie. The van slowed and turned, reducing its speed even further. Zelda squinted trying to see through the front windshield. "We must be here."

The van came to a stop and the driver said, "End of the line ladies."

A few seconds later, the driver slid the door open, and we stepped out onto a paved parking pad at the rear of the property. I stopped and shook my head. The large art deco house was pale yellow with chocolate trim. "It can't be."

Zelda's mouth hung open. "Are you kidding me?" She whispered, "Am I crazy or are we working George's funeral?"

<<>>

Marsha greeted us in the kitchen, donning a headset and carrying a clipboard. She stood almost six feet tall and wore her usual red power suit, with a skirt so tight I wasn't sure how she managed to walk. Her dark her was cut in a chin length bob and shined like polished ebony. "Okay ladies, we're set up and ready to go. We're doing a buffet for the main course so service is for wine and hors d'oeuvres." On the counter behind her silver trays of hors d'oeuvres and glasses of wine stood waiting. "Grab a tray and circulate. And bus as you go. We have tables set up in the great room, solarium and the back patio so be sure to stay in the designated areas. This is a wake, so we don't want to do anything to upset the family." She smiled and clapped her hands twice. "Chop chop."

Like a well-oiled pack of food robots we moved in unison, grabbed trays of wine and hors d'oeuvres and marched toward the door.

"This is going to be fun," Zelda mumbled as we left the kitchen.

"Yeah, fun, that's what I'd call it."

<<>>

If I didn't know better, I'd have thought the wake was a fund raiser for saving baby seals or starving children in a third-world country. We swooped in with trays of hors d'oeuvres and aperitifs, and the mourners broke off into cliques of specific interest.

We couldn't work side by side but Zelda and I kept each other in sight, while keeping the other eye out for Maggie Manston. It would be difficult to explain ourselves if she recognized us. Although she was so unimpressed when we brought the flowers a few days earlier I doubted she would. Still, I didn't want to push my luck.

There was also the problem of Lily. She'd made a point of seeking us out at the funeral home and clearly knew who I was, so avoiding her was going to be tricky.

When our trays were empty, Zelda and I met at the buffet, under the guise of wiping spills and whisking away the random crumb or bamboo shoot.

Zelda, who was forever hungry, eyed the food. "Damn, look at all this stuff." She stared at the puff pastries piled high in a heating tray. "I could eat that whole tray."

"You could eat the whole of anything." I looked around, worried that guests would notice our lack of circulation. "But don't do what you're thinking."

She smirked. "What am I thinking?"

"That you're going to stuff your pockets with those."

"Buzz-kill."

I scanned the room afraid of discovery. "We can't keep standing here, drooling over the food."

Zelda's eyes darted around the room. "From the looks of it, George's death ain't breaking any hearts."

I had to agree. The crowd buzzed and it wasn't with sadness. It might as well have been a Hollywood after party. I scanned the crowd and my gaze stopped on Lily. My stomach clenched when she looked right at me. But then she looked away, and went back to being the center of attention. "And look who's falling all over Lily," I muttered.

Zelda glanced over her shoulder then looked back. "Lily and Jake? She was all teary-eyed the other night, now she's putting the moves on daddy's partner? This family gets weirder and weirder."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of red and felt Marsha hovering. I pushed off from the buffet table and away from Zelda. "Red suit, heading this way."

I moved to the outer edges of the room, picking up empty glasses and buffet plates on my way. Zelda went off in the other direction doing the same. Marsha lost interest in us and stopped to speak to Maggie Manston, who'd entered the room without my notice.

I caught Zelda's attention from across the room and hooked my head at the exit. But as we closed in on our escape, Maggie and Marsha headed in the same direction. We each careened away from the exit and detoured to the French doors that led out to the patio. I stepped through and Zelda followed a few seconds later.

"Jesus."

I pulled her away from the doors. "Quiet!"

"What?" Zelda looked around. "There's nobody out here." She hugged herself and shivered. "It's too damned cold. Why did they set up tables out here?"

Though it hadn't rained yet, cast iron clouds poised overhead threatening retribution. Still, there were empty glasses and plates littering the tables. "Well somebody likes the bracing weather." I crossed to a back table that held empty bus trays and grabbed one. "Let's get to it."

Zelda grabbed a bus tray too and we cleared the tables. "Is it time to leave yet?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. We're not allowed to wear watches and rich people apparently don't believe in clocks." I looked up to the depressing gray sky. "I can't even tell if it's still afternoon."