Diamond in the Buff (17 page)

I strode into the holding cell, yanked a chair in behind me, and shut the door.

“You are in a lot of trouble,” I said.

Her face quivered. From cold, or fear? About Kris, or something else?

“Possession of one ounce of a controlled substance is a felony.”

“I didn’t—”

“You were growing ten acres of it up there in Humboldt.”

“Not me. I live in Berkeley.” Was that relief on her face? Relief about the Berkeley excuse, or at me asking about drugs rather than murder?

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter where you live; you
own
the land on which cannabis is being grown.”

“I rent it out.”

“Your name is on the deed.”

“Yes, but I don’t live there. I have a renter. I don’t go up there. On the lease it says I can’t come onto the property without notifying him first.”

I let out a laugh. “Leila, a stipulation like that is an announcement that you know exactly what’s going on in those fields.”

The skin around her mouth tightened. “My tenant, he insisted on that; I didn’t. I have no idea what goes on up there.”

I leaned back, slowly shaking my head. Few attitudes irritated me as much as this righteous air of irresponsibility. Particularly when the speaker was lying. But Sandoval was giving me such a first-rate show of “not me” that the act blurred what it was she was covering up.

I said, “The issue of the land is between you and the Humboldt County sheriff. And, of course, the CAMP authorities.” I fingered the file. “Too bad it’s up there.”

The look of panic on her face told me I didn’t have to explain the difference in attitude up there. Her fear of CAMP was the real thing. She took a deep breath, as if to bring herself under control, looked straight at me, and said, “What are you offering?”

I almost laughed again. So much for the helpless featherhead. “There’s a big range in how they can handle you. A woman who does massage on Telegraph Avenue is not going to be a sympathetic figure in the Eureka courthouse. You know that.”

She nodded, all business now.

“But a woman who has supported the police effort here, she’ll have a much better chance of being believed when she testifies about her tenant and his use of her land. A woman who has cooperated in a murder investigation …”

She stiffened. The reaction seemed too slight for the first discovery of a murder. But reactions vary.

I chose a tack and said, “You don’t seem surprised that there’s been a murder.” If she’d killed Kris, she’d had since the middle of last night to get accustomed to the idea of him dead. And she’d had the three hours or so since Hallstead picked her up to plan her reactions to these questions. And, it was clear to me already, Leila Sandoval was an accomplished actress.

“I’m stunned. I’ve known about Kris for a while, but I’m still stunned.”

“How’d you find out?”

“A friend called.”

“From Berkeley?” That would be a message unit call, one that would be on the friend’s phone bill.

She shook her head. “No. A friend up north. Someone called him.”

I smiled sardonically, “A series of calls which can’t be checked.” Before she could comment, I said, “Tell me about Kris Mouskavachi. You brought him over here. Why?”

She sat there, tapping those marmotlike teeth together. “The thing about Kris,” she said, thoughtfully, “was that he was on Bev’s last expedition. Bev’s been worried about this new expedition. And it isn’t easy for her living with Has-Bitched. I thought having Kris here would make it easier for her.”

I nodded, slowly, at the same rate she had been tapping her teeth. “That’s a nice story. Now what is the truth?”

Those wrinkles on her face looked deeper, darker, and lots tighter. She sighed, and said, “Okay. I guess it was naive to expect you to believe I was just interested in making things easier at Has-Bitched’s. You probably think I was out to get him. I can understand that. And God knows, I would get him if I could think of a way. But this is different.” She leaned forward and looked straight at me, with what I figured was her Earnest Look. “Do you know about Bev’s last expedition? Three people died.”

I nodded.

“Well, Kris was on that. Kris was convinced that they wouldn’t have died if the leader had been competent. I know Bev, and that lack of planning, and the arrogance that made her think that no matter what happened, she could pull things out. When she leads this new expedition, she’ll be just as arrogant and just as scattered. The only difference is that there will be more people involved, more people who may die.”

“The word on her last expedition is common knowledge.”

“No, that’s not quite true,” she said, reaching a hand toward me as if to touch my arm. Her face was more relaxed now, but there was an urgency to her posture. “Only a little is knowledge. Most of what’s known is rumor. You’re talking about something that happened halfway around the world, on the side of a mountain, where the climbers are not only cut off from the outside world, but frequently from each other. Accidents are common. Facts vary depending on who you’re talking to. So most of what’s circulating in the climbing community is conjecture. And Bev’s a pro at dealing with that. She may be scattered, but she’s also a performer, a salesman. And that arrogance of hers gives her an air of competence.” Leila reached out a hand again, again drawing it back at the last moment. “I’ve seen Bev give lectures and do fund raising. She talks about using computers to determine the number of porters it will take to carry the supplies to base camp, and the number from there to advance base, and from there to Camp One on the mountain, and having the computer factor in the increased amount of grain needed if the weather is ten degrees colder. It sounds like NASA is doing the planning. Businessmen can barely keep themselves from throwing checks at her. Other climbers begin to think the rumors must have been wrong. Bev’s the best at this. If no one contradicts her, she’ll get her backing, she’ll get other climbers—not the best ones, the ones who know better; she’ll get the less experienced, the ones with good enough credentials to appeal to the sponsors, the one who won’t have a chance if things get desperate up on the mountain. If no one contradicts her, these people will die.” Now she did put an “earnest” hand on my arm. “Bev,” she said, “is a pro at conning people.”

Coming from Leila Sandoval that was quite an endorsement. I was tempted to ask, “A pro at conning Hasbrouck Diamond? Luring him away from you?” But I didn’t want her focusing on that, not yet. Instead, I sat watching her. She pulled her hand back. It was shaking. If Leila Sandoval was lying about Bev, it was a great act. I said, “So you brought Kris Mouskavachi here to contradict Bev? At her reception today?”

She nodded. “Kris was on the expedition. He was friends with one of the Sherpas who died. People would believe him.”

“But Bev must have known that.”

“To her, he was just one of the porters, a little more valuable because he spoke English.”

“Bev said they were close friends. She gave Him her new wristwatch.”

Leila laughed. “Bev
gave
somebody something? Giving is not her style. She figures her presence is gift enough. She gave Kris a wristwatch? Maybe
she
thought they were friends. No, wait, no, Bev’s not that thick. Kris’s friend was one of the two Sherpas. And Kris blamed her for his friend’s death.”

I jotted down a note and said, “Then it seems very odd indeed that when Kris suddenly turned up here, that she was pleased to have him come and stay at Diamond’s with her.”

Now Leila smiled. “She didn’t have a choice.” She ran her hands down over her thighs in a little self-congratulatory massage. “You know all about my squabbles with Has-Bitched, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, one thing I’ve learned from them is timing. That story about him thinking my client letting out his emotions was a wounded cougar howling in the hills, that wouldn’t have even made the paper if he hadn’t made the call in August when there’s no other news worth printing. I’ve had plenty of time to think about that. So when I brought Kris over here, I made sure it was at the right time—when Bev had just left for a month in the Alps. A month was plenty long enough for Kris to ingratiate himself with Has-Bitched.”

“Wait! How could you be sure Diamond would take to him?”

She looked surprised. “Everyone likes Kris. You knew him.”

“But when you were planning this, before Kris came, you didn’t know what he was like.”

She pressed her front teeth together.

“Or did you?” I asked. “You did, right? You had to know that Kris could charm Diamond. How did you know what Kris was like?”

“Bev told me.”

“Bev, to whom Kris was just another porter? Come on.” I waited, and when she didn’t reply, said, “Our deal here is dependent on your giving me the truth. Don’t put me in the position of telling Humboldt you lied to me.”

In the meeting room what sounded like a battalion of feet trod across the floor. Morning Watch (7:00
A.M.-
3:00
P.M.)
was winding down. Patrol officers had come in, preparing to write up reports, pass on the word of suspicious cars parked off Sacramento Avenue, of crazies on the Avenue to the Evening Watch guys who’d be rolling soon.

Leila tapped her teeth ever more slowly. Finally, she said, “I know Kris’s cousin.”

I waited till she said his name. The cousin, of course, was Cypress. Cypress, who looked like Kris. I found myself tapping my pencil in rhythm with her tapping teeth. “You’d better tell me about this from the beginning.”

“The beginning with Cypress?”

“Wherever the beginning is.”

She leaned back in the spare wooden chair and pulled her ankle up onto her knee. She looked like the post-massage version of the nervous woman who’d answered my initial question. “Well, I guess the beginning was with Has-Bitched and the tree. I never thought he would actually be able to force me to top my tree. I mean, this
is
Berkeley, for heaven’s sake; trees do have rights. His winning that ruling took me completely by surprise. There was no recourse, no way to get even with that bastard. So I did the best thing I could think of. Under the law I was the one who chose the tree trimmer. Has-Bitched had to concur, but I chose. So I checked around and found the most irresponsible, least qualified tree trimmer and told him to charge Has-Bitched a fortune. I figured he’d do a lousy job, which he did, and the tree would be an eyesore from Has-Bitched’s deck, which I’ve been told it is.”

“But it’s your tree!” I exclaimed. I did note that Diamond’s assessment of the situation concurred with Sandoval’s story.

Leila laughed. “Eucalypts are hardy. Besides, once a tree is topped, we’re not talking aesthetics anymore. And, since I’m giving you the truth, I don’t care a hang about trees. The only benefit of those eucalypts is that they save me from having to see Has-Bitched parading around in his baggy birthday suit.”

I looked through the window, watching as Murakawa strolled across the meeting room, dark hair disheveled, a disarming smile on his face, not unlike Kris Mouskavachi’s had been. “Since we are dealing with the
whole
truth here, when did you get the idea of having Cypress gouge out the crotch of the tree and add the bacteria?”

It’s odd what suspects balk at admitting, often the least incriminating facts, often facts that have nothing to do with the case. I wouldn’t have expected Leila to freeze on this one, but she did. She shook her head slowly and said, “I can’t say what Cypress did. I didn’t watch him on the tree. But I do know bacteria spread from tree to tree, and it’s almost impossible to keep them out of stagnant water.”

“And you do know that Diamond is liable for any expense caused by the tree topping.”

She almost smiled, caught herself, then nodded.

“And after this affair,” I said, “you signed a rental agreement with this man whom you knew to be probably the most unreliable gardener in Berkeley. You gave him control of your land in Humboldt, and agreed to stay off the property so you wouldn’t see what he was doing.
And
he paid not a cent of rent for a year. That’s quite a hefty thank-you. What was it all for?”

“For Kris. For the chance to warn the people who would otherwise be climbing with Bev.”

I shook my head. “The truth!”

Her face colored just slightly. “That is the truth, or part of it,” she added with a tentative smile. “Bev is a danger. But okay, it wasn’t all altruism on my part. The thousand dollars for travel was a lot of money, and money isn’t something I have much of. But I was pissed off at Bev. After all she was my friend originally, and then when Has-Bitched offered her a free room, she acted like we’d never been friends at all. It appealed to me to do something decent—warn people—and to get her at the same time.”

“And to get Hasbrouck Diamond, your former lover?”

She shut her eyes and didn’t move. Slowly she shook her head and her eyes opened. “The mistake of my life.” All she had said before may have been part of her act. Every reaction may have been fake. But this, I was willing to bet, was bedrock truth. “Climbers talk about the Big Mistake. You can guess what that is.”

From Bev’s lecture, I knew what that was. Bev had also referred to it as the Last Step.

“Well, that dalliance with Hasbrouck Diamond was my Big Mistake. Hasbrouck turned my life upside down. Then he shook me out.” She paused, watching me for reaction.

I had the feeling she’d told this story often enough before to know when to stop and gather in offerings of sympathy, that for her even the truth became part of the act. And the act became the truth. It made her almost impossible to read. I nodded for her to go on.

“And as if that wasn’t enough, then he started on me about my house, and how shabby it was. As if he didn’t know how little money I had, and why. And then his friends parked in front of my driveway—”

“And so, to get back to your bringing Kris over here to expose Bev,” I said, to cut into this rehash of the feud, “it appealed to you to make a mockery of Bev’s presentation, and particularly so because Hasbrouck Diamond had set it up, in his own house?”

Leila couldn’t control the smile. It was a big infectious grin. “The thought did occur to me. I kind of hoped he’d have invited a couple of those Hollywood types he tries to impress.”