Lalla Bains 02 - A Dead Red Heart (19 page)

"Super-stealth hearing."

I blinked at a picture of Del with earphones on his head. "That's illegal, you know."

"Do I need to remind you what Brad said the other night?"

"The killer is a cop, but you've been holding out on me and I don't appreciate it."

"Baby, honey, sweetie—you know that isn't true. Anything for you."

"Right. If you don't trust your mom with me, at least let her talk to Caleb."

"Yeah, and I want to know how Pippa's involved with my cousin's murder, but I don't trust that dyke."

"Will you stop with the dyke stuff? The police want to question you about Billy Wayne's murder."

He shrugged. "Don't get your panties in a twist, and don't you go trusting Deputy Pippa, she's a cop, remember?"

"It's Officer Roulette to you, and Janice Bidwell said
you
can't be trusted, either."

"She would say that. Her and that
Officer
Roulette are both a couple of man haters."

"Another derogatory comment about women and I'm walking, you little creep."

He worked at wiping the merry humor off his face. "I'm joking, okay?"

I was struggling with my temper again. "Your mom? Jump in anytime."

"We'll get to my mom in a minute. Look, you've got to ask the right questions of Pippa. See, it didn't make sense until I went over the police roster."

"Yes?" Finally, he was coming up with something.

"Less than six months ago, Pippa arrives in town, and now Billy Wayne is dead. See what I mean?"

"That's it? Well that explains everything, doesn't it? You know we got ourselves a moratorium on new residents in Modesto. If anyone wants to move into town someone else has to die. You look surprised? I thought you already knew that. As for Jan or Pippa, if you quit propositioning every woman you meet, you moron, maybe they wouldn't want to rip your head off."

"I haven't had time to proposition Pippa, but I've got a hunch she's behind all my problems."

"You've got problems alright. Your aunt says you were the one who sold the story of your cousin's heart transplant to that sleaze rag."

"Of course I sold them the story. I'm a newsman, aren't I? How was I to know someone would…?"

"You really think someone murdered him because of his heart transplant?"

"It's true, but I have to prove it."

"And that's another thing; why didn't you tell me that Billy Wayne was your cousin?"

He shrugged. "I thought it best you should make up your own mind about my family, especially my Aunt Margery."

"Wouldn't have anything to do with that headgear she wears would it?"

He wiggled his stubby fingers up in front of his face in fearful pantomime. "I told her to go for the eyes. That's the only vulnerable part on their bodies."

"Aliens?"

His eyes twinkled. "Who else?"

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "You did this so no one would think she had a coherent thought in her head, she certainly couldn't be a credible witness, she's too crazy, right?"

He leaned towards me, and whispered, "I couldn't spirit both of them out of town at once. My mom thought of it. Great idea, huh?"

"Seriously, Del, you've got to talk to Homicide before they put out an APB on you for kidnapping. And what about your job?"

"You'll take care of the cops through Caleb Stone and let me worry about my job."

"Alright. Let's drop that for now, and you can tell me where you've stashed your mother,
 
and then you can let Caleb talk to her."

"Better that you don't know yet, then they can't torture it out of you." He ignored my eye rolling. "Look, I haven't got much time, so let's set up a secret password. You can call me later and tell me what you find out from Pippa. And, that's a big if, 'cause I don't think Pippa will show."

"No."

"No? But you said –"

"No secret password, and you're wrong about Pippa."

"Why not? It'll be cool."

"We are not in Dick Tracy land, and I'm not going to contribute to your suspicions about Officer Roulette."

"Baby, sweetie, I'm doing this for your own good. If I can listen in on a cell phone conversation, so can she. Brad was right, you know, Billy Wayne's killer is a cop. Someone's always listening, so we have to be careful. Reveal nothing over the phone, just a time to meet. Okay?"

"I think Brad could've made it all up simply to get back at me."

"I have no doubt he added the part about your boyfriend just to watch you squirm. But we both know he was right about the killer being a cop. Look cops rousting the bums isn't a crime, but beating them up is not exactly departmental SOP, is it? I know these guys, and most of them are good cops trying to get by in a recession with dwindling budgets. They have to moonlight, and there aren't enough security guard jobs to go around. The others get into minor stuff, like muscling in on a dope deal now and then or turning a blind eye to the downtown dopers. Also, most news people pay for inside information. But, not this time. They won't give up one of their own for some bum who's threatening to ruin their second income. One goes down, they all do; which is what I'm counting on, as soon as I can find the leverage to make it happen. Then, I'm going to have to bring him or her to justice before they can silence me."

Good grief! He was reading me copy for his next story. "Call me tonight at six and we'll talk."

"Will do. Roger, wilco and out."

Then Del's eyes went wide and he lurched into me, giving my shoulder a hard shove so that I spun around. Tilting off axis I tried to keep my balance by wind-milling my arms, then braced for the inevitable impact. I felt my right arm slide out from under me and scrape the ground as my head hit the cement.

Dazed, I were I was, then tried to get up, but could only manage knees and elbow.

Someone was yelling for me to run, someone else was growling and cursing, but since the concrete looked cool and inviting, I decided to lie down and wait till the arguing stopped. Just before I closed my eyes, I saw Del squirm out of the officer's grasp and run.

Chapter eighteen:

"Lalla! Lalla! Can you hear me?"

"Roger that." I wasn't exactly connected when I said it, and then when I did, knew it sounded goofy.
Del? Where's Del?

"Are you hurt? Lalla, answer me."

I was relieved to hear a woman's voice and see a pair of dark slacks kneeling beside me. Thank God, it was a policewoman.

Clutching at my savior's pant leg, I pulled myself up into a sitting position next to a bag of take-out boxes spilled out onto the pavement. Grace Kim. Her white shirt and black slacks must've made me think she was a police officer, though Modesto police wore brown, not black.

"Grace, how nice," I said, woozy from the head crack on the ground. "You brought me take-out."

With a tight nod at my feeble attempt to make light of the incident, she pulled me to my feet. When I winced at the painful scrapes on my elbow, she shifted her grip to my bicep and held on till I stopped swaying.

"I was across the street," she said, wiping at leaves clinging to my clothes. "This guy comes running out of the parking lot. That's when I saw you laid out on the ground. What the hell was that all about?"

"Did you get a look at him?" I asked, thinking it might have been Del running away.

"Sorry, Lalla, it all happened so fast, and to be honest with you, I wasn't prepared to chase down some mugger with a gun."

"He had a gun?"

"I don't know, but I assumed he must've had a gun to get the upper hand on you," She picked a leaf out of my hair and our eyes met—hers scampered off to settle on a speck of dirt on my shoulder.

 
I felt gut-punched. Grace was lying, but why?

"Look Grace, I'm fine, really." I straightened my clothes and then noticed that her bowtie was askew and there were dark smudges on her shirt. This was awkward. To hide my growing unease, I offered to help her pick up the delivery boxes.

"Don't be silly. You shouldn't bend over just yet, and you need to see about those scrapes."

If Del had tussled with someone, surely it couldn't have been a lightweight like Grace Kim. "There was just the one guy, then?"

"Oh. I don't know. I didn't see anyone else." She shook her head, her sleek hair swinging, exaggerating the negative. The smell of Chinese food and a mental image of Mr. Kim, squeezing off quick nods as he offered me a quick peek at the one secret message I had yet to decode.

She smoothed some of her hair behind her ears and said, "I'm sorry, I was just so shocked. I honestly don't remember seeing anyone else. I mean, this is nuts! Like what criminal in his right mind would attack women in broad daylight, much less in a place like this? Did he get your purse?"

"Purse?" Her lack of eye contact, her clothes in disarray—I had the very uncomfortable feeling one gets when a favorite elderly aunt passes wind at the dinner table and everyone's too uncomfortable to say anything. There was no doubt that Grace had saved me from something or someone, but what, or whom?

"Okay, wait here, I'll look around." She stooped to look under a few cars, then stood up and trotted over to hand me my shoulder bag. Since the heft of it felt right, I didn't bother to check if anything was missing. I was still puzzling over the last few minutes.

Grace astutely averted her eyes and bent over to stuff the boxes into the bag. "I hadn't thought to call the police, but I could do that for you now."

"Oh, no, not necessary," I said, remembering a clandestine meeting I had with a police officer who could get fired for allowing me into the evidence room. At least that was the plan—if Pippa hadn't changed her mind. "I'm good. Really. He didn't get my purse, and I'm not hurt."

"If you say so," she said, worrying the top edges of her paper delivery bag. The excitement of the last few minutes was enough to make anyone sweat, except that I recognized her unease for what it was. I should know, I had my own lies to deal with.

"Not worth the paperwork," I said.

At least her quick nod of relief was real. "Well, I do have these deliveries, but if you're still a bit woozy I could drive you home."

"No, no. Don't give it another thought. Where'd you say you left your car?"

Grace pointed across the street then gasped. "Oh, my God! I left it running and I'm double- parked. If you're sure you're okay?"

I gave her a thumbs up and a nod. "I'm good, you go on."

She nodded once then sprinted for her car.

I thought again of what I knew about Grace Kim, that she was a waitress and delivery person in the only viable establishment in a block of empty shells along a Modesto street known more for prostitutes and drug deals than food. It was also Billy Wayne's favorite hangout and where he was murdered, and last but not least, she was Mr. Kim's daughter.

Or maybe I was seeing this all wrong. Maybe what I was seeing was guilt by association. Like, if she stayed for the police that this dangerous black cloud I seemed to carry around might just scoot over into her space.

If I were her, I'd want to distance myself from me, too.

I should write down my impressions while they were still fresh in my mind, analyze the events of only a few minutes ago and evaluate the clues before anything slipped away.

I poked my hand down into my purse and felt around for the soft leather case of my notebook and came up empty handed. It was gone. Somebody had taken my notebook. I'd kept everything in it from Billy Wayne's dying words, to my list of possible suspects: Byron Bettencourt, Detective Rodney, and Brad Lane. And now it was all gone.

As much as I hated to admit it, Del was right. Someone else knew where I was coming today, and now there was no doubt in my mind that Grace knew who it was.

Chapter nineteen:

Inside the Modesto City Police Evidence Building I collapsed onto an industrial style plastic bench seat and studied the gray concrete walls. I was already late for my appointment with Pippa and still shaking from my dust up with a mugger. Why would Del run off and leave me to an attacker? And Grace Kim saying she found me after the mugger ran? Then why the bowtie tilted and her shirt dirty? Not the fastidious Grace Kim I knew from high school. Did she steal my notebook? Or was she covering for a someone; a cop friend, or a lover? Was that why she was here? Nothing fit and I was getting a headache.