Mission Canyon (13 page)

‘‘It’ll just be a minute,’’ she said. ‘‘Can you tell me what is up with him? He came in saying he had to see Mr. Rudenski Senior about a murder.’’

‘‘Yep, I’ll bet. Can I go back and find him?’’

‘‘Who got murdered?’’

‘‘His brother.’’

‘‘Oh.’’ Her mouth blossomed. ‘‘That’s horrible.’’ She blinked several times. ‘‘Did it happen here at Mako?’’

‘‘No.’’ I looked at her frightened face, realizing she was new, and may not have known the flurry about Brand. ‘‘Is this your first day here?’’

‘‘Yeah. Diamond Mindworks laid me off.’’ She shrugged. ‘‘It’s okay; things are getting weird over there. The doughnuts are gone, and the Coke machine. I’m like, Hello, the doughnuts didn’t make Mr. Diamond go cardiac; do we all have to suffer?’’

Then I did hear the noise, coming from beyond the security door. Men’s voices raised in anger. I looked through the window and saw Adam in the hallway, arms in the air, talking at Kenny Rudenski. I heard him mention Mako’s computer records. Kenny pointed a finger and Adam swatted it away as if it were a buzzing fly.

I said, ‘‘Amber, unlock the door. Now.’’

She froze. ‘‘I don’t know. . . .’’

‘‘Come on.’’ I peered through the door. Adam was yelling. Kenny crossed his arms. He looked starchy in a white shirt and designer tie. His expression combined recalcitrance and condescension. I pounded on the door. Adam frowned at me and kept talking.

‘‘Evan.’’ Harley came into the lobby, her heels hammering the linoleum. She was sculpted into an Armani suit, swinging a handbag as small and sleek as a blackjack.

‘‘Be nice if we could stop Kenny and Adam from coming to blows,’’ I said.

She looked at Amber. ‘‘I’m Harley Dawson, Mako’s counsel. Open the door.’’

Amber jumped up. ‘‘Yes, ma’am.’’

She came around the desk and punched a code into the keypad. Harley opened the door and we went in.

Adam was saying, ‘‘You can’t brush me aside.’’

Kenny shook his head. ‘‘I’m not. But you can’t just barge in here and commandeer our records.’’

Harley walked toward Adam with her palms up, trying for conciliation. ‘‘Dr. Sandoval.’’

Kenny raised his hands and backed away from Adam. ‘‘Here you go, amigo. Put your demands to our attorney. ’’ He looked at Harley. ‘‘He claims we’ve been sitting on proof of murder for three years.’’

Adam said, ‘‘I’ve told his father, it’s all in your computer systems, proof that Brand killed my brother deliberately. ’’

Harley said, ‘‘That’s a strong accusation, sir.’’

‘‘It’s the truth.’’

She shoved her silver hair away from her face and looked around. Several secretaries, the cluster of men at the vending machine, and Amber were watching us as though we were an amateur production of
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

She pointed at Kenny. ‘‘In your office.’’

We marched past his wide-eyed secretary into a corner office that faced the beach and the university. It had sofas and soft lighting and an ostentatious desk. Adam stalked in and planted himself in the center of the room. He was not going to be moved until he was ready.

Harley said, ‘‘Dr. Sandoval, I’ll look at any documentation you provide, and—’’

‘‘I’ve already given it to the police. I want Mako to preemptively protect their records so nobody can tamper with them.’’

Kenny said, ‘‘Data protection is our bread and butter. Why don’t you dial the intensity back down into the visible spectrum?’’

Harley’s nostrils were wide. She was struggling to maintain her composure. ‘‘You’ve already been to the police?’’

I said, ‘‘That’s where you take evidence of a crime, Counselor.’’

She looked from me to Kenny. She said nothing, but her aura was emanating,
Crap-o-rama.

Adam said, ‘‘I’m talking about doing the right thing. You shouldn’t have to wait for a warrant or a subpoena; you should stand up.’’

Kenny said, ‘‘You have nothing to worry about. Mako has severed all ties with Franklin Brand.’’

A golf club was leaning next to the desk. Kenny picked it up and took a swing. Watching him work on his grip in the face of Adam’s righteous grief, I decided that if Adam took the club and bent it around Kenny’s neck, I would put my finger on it so he could tie it in a bow.

I said, ‘‘I saw you give Brand a ride from the jail to his motel the other day.’’

Harley said, ‘‘What?’’

I said, ‘‘Did you put up his bail bond?’’

Harley said, ‘‘Don’t answer that.’’

Kenny ignored her. ‘‘No, I didn’t.’’

I said, ‘‘Why did Brand look so unhappy when you dropped him off?’’

Harley pointed at him. ‘‘Don’t. This conversation is finished.’’

She looked tighter than a high wire. For a second I felt remorseful. She was on the verge of losing control of the situation. But I’d just caught Kenny in a lie.

Kenny said, ‘‘He wanted money.’’

Harley hissed out a breath.

I said, ‘‘Why?’’

‘‘Because he’s a butthole.’’ Backswing, stroke, follow-through. ‘‘He claims Mako owes him his annual bonus for the year he disappeared.’’

Harley said, ‘‘Why didn’t you tell me this?’’

‘‘I told Dad. It wasn’t a legal issue; it was greed. I told Brand to piss off.’’

Adam looked as though he were having trouble swallowing. ‘‘Why did he come back? What does he want?’’

‘‘I don’t know.’’

‘‘You know who the woman was, don’t you? The anonymous caller, she’s from Mako, isn’t she?’’

Harley said, ‘‘Kenny, don’t even speculate.’’

He took another swing. ‘‘I’ll tell you what I think. I think there wasn’t any woman in the car with him.’’

The same thought had occurred to me, but that’s not why his statement surprised me. ‘‘When did you concede that he was the driver?’’

He shrugged. ‘‘Three years on the run? At some point, denying it started sounding lame.’’

Adam said, ‘‘I thought he was your friend.’’

‘‘So did I.’’ He stopped swinging the club. ‘‘But he’s a leech. He latches onto things and sucks them dry. I’m talking business, friends, women.’’

I said, ‘‘Do you think the woman was an ex with a grudge?’’

‘‘Here’s what I think,’’ he said. ‘‘The caller was some chick he tricked into picking him up after he set fire to his Beemer. You know—‘Hey, baby, the car broke down. Can you come get me?’ She shows up and he smells like smoke and gasoline. Later she hears about the hit-and-run, puts two and two together. Decides she doesn’t like being made a . . .’’ He snapped his fingers. ‘‘What do you call it, Harley?’’

‘‘Accessory after the fact,’’ she said.

"He’s a user. Capital U. And I ought to know, since I’m the idiot who brought him on board at Mako.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘Never hire somebody more ambitious than yourself. They’ll stick the blade between your ribs every time.’’

I tasted acid in my mouth. Kenny thought this was about him. If he felt any anger, it was at being betrayed by Brand. I saw no evidence of sympathy for Isaac.

His phone rang. He answered it, talked. ‘‘Dad wants to see us, Harley.’’

Adopting a serious expression, he turned to Adam. ‘‘Brand’s caught in the court system. And the police have all the information you turned up. It’s out of our hands.’’

His gaze settled on Adam’s crucifix. ‘‘Mexican silver, right?’’ He reached out, took it between his fingers, and started rubbing it. ‘‘Looks like you got a higher power you should be calling on right now.’’

Adam raised a hand and removed the cross from Kenny’s fingers. His eyes looked like arrowheads.

He said, ‘‘Let’s go, Evan.’’

We walked out of the office. Kenny’s voice followed us.

‘‘Light a candle, Doc. That’s what you should be doing. Saying Hail Marys.’’

Outside, Adam stalked toward his pickup truck. He carried himself as though he were expecting a punch, ready to clench a fist at the slightest provocation.

‘‘Pray to the Virgin. Treating me like a campesino, thinking I wouldn’t know I was being insulted.’’ He wheeled on me. ‘‘And what were you doing here? Did you think I was going to tear the lobby apart, or pour gasoline over myself and strike a match?’’

‘‘Please, that’s not it.’’

‘‘Franklin Brand murdered my brother. I cannot repeat that word enough. Murdered. Murdered. I am not overreacting.’’

‘‘I know you’re not.’’

‘‘I’m not suffering a breakdown, or going fuzzy-headed. To the contrary, I’m seeing things with astounding clarity.’’ His hands clenched and released. ‘‘Don’t worry about me. Take care of Jesse. He needs you now more than ever."

"Of course I will."

‘‘He was run down and left to die because Brand was after Isaac. He was treated like litter.’’ He put a hand to his forehead. ‘‘It’s ghastly.’’

He looked toward the beach, the university sitting on the bluff in the distance.

‘‘George Rudenski is going to look into things,’’ he said. ‘‘For what that’s worth.’’

‘‘That’s good.’’

‘‘Not good enough.’’

Cue the straight line. ‘‘What would be good enough?’’

He looked at me. ‘‘Brand’s head on a pike.’’

Half a second after I started the Explorer, Amber Gibbs bounced through Mako’s front door. She looked like a kid set free for recess. I started to call to her and changed my mind, not wanting Mako people to see me asking her questions.

She unlocked a blue Schwinn from a bike rack and pedaled away toward the shopping center up the road. I beat her there, and was waiting when she puffed in and dismounted. When she strolled into Jerry’s, I was behind her.

Diners crowded the Formica tables. The TV in the corner was showing the Dodgers game. While Amber read the menu on the wall, I ordered a taco. I sat down and heard her tell the counterman, ‘‘Burrito, two tacos, large pintos with extra cheese. And a Diet Coke.’’

She turned around to find a seat.

I said, ‘‘Pull up a chair.’’ She sat down at the table. ‘‘You’re having quite a first day on the job.’’

‘‘No lie.’’ She smoothed her unruly hair.

‘‘How do you like Mako so far?’’

‘‘It’s complicated. There’s all these departments, and two Mr. Rudenskis, and an internal computer network with a million security rules.’’

I tried to look sympathetic. ‘‘Well, cybersecurity is Mako’s business. Didn’t Diamond Mindworks have security rules?’’

‘‘ ‘If a reporter phones, hang up,’ ’’ she said. ‘‘ ‘And if anybody comes in looking for Mr. Diamond, tell him he’s gone for the day.’ ’’

‘‘Be glad you don’t work there anymore, Amber.’’

Her forehead crinkled with confusion.

‘‘Lucky you got another job so quickly,’’ I said.

‘‘Mrs. Diamond put in a good word.’’

‘‘Mrs. Mari-with-the-yapping-Chihuahua Diamond?’’

‘‘For all of us who got laid off.’’ She played with her hair. ‘‘I know what you’re thinking: She’s scary. She is. But, because of the circumstances, she did it.’’

‘‘What circumstances?’’

The counterman called our orders. Amber’s selections took up three-fourths of the table. Her burrito was a glistening package the size of a cat.

I said again, ‘‘What circumstances?’’

‘‘The divorce.’’

My taco looked magnificent, with the shredded chicken and salsa and cheese. I didn’t even take a bite.

‘‘Whose divorce?’’

‘‘The Diamonds’.’’

‘‘When did this happen?’’

‘‘The day of his heart attack. That’s what they were yelling about in his office before he collapsed, I heard.’’

I put my taco down. Thinking, But I’m the one she slapped that day. Or maybe just the last one she slapped.

Amber twitched on the plastic chair. ‘‘What you told me, about your friend whose brother died? What’s going on with that?’’

‘‘He was run down and killed by Mako’s former VP of business development.’’

She put a forkful of burrito in her mouth. ‘‘Who?’’

I looked around and saw a pile of newspapers on a table. I got them, riffled through, and found a photo of Brand at the courthouse. She looked at it, chewing.

‘‘I know him,’’ she said.

‘‘You do?’’

‘‘He’s the dog guy.’’

I watched her chew. ‘‘What dog guy?’’

‘‘Who gave Caesar to Mrs. Diamond.’’

She took another bite. I waved my hands.

‘‘Her Chihuahua,’’ she said.

‘‘How do you know this?’’

She wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. ‘‘I took some papers to the Diamonds’ house one time. He was there, and Mrs. D was all gushy over this puppy, about the size of a shaved mouse. She said he gave it to her. He . . .’’

Her face went stark. She was looking over my shoulder, at Kenny Rudenski standing in the doorway.

He hooked a finger at me. ‘‘Come on, Gidget. Let’s go for a drive.’’

The last bit was the easiest, though the road was steep and curving. With the hairpin turns Kenny had to slow the Porsche, and I could keep him in sight. It had been tougher following him on the freeway, because he liked to gun the Porsche in and out between cars, as if daring me to keep up. His vanity license plate read KPS3CUR— keep secure—which fit with Mako’s work but not with his driving.

‘‘Follow me,’’ he’d said. ‘‘I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.’’

I wanted to know about Franklin Brand, and Kenny’s connection to him.

We were now north of Foothill Road and winding upward toward the mountains. The tall grass was yellow in the ravine below. Avocado orchards unrolled green across the foothills, and La Cumbre Peak stretched toward the sky. Houses clung to the slope, huge places with jutting balconies. Downshifting around a switchback, I watched the Porsche brake and turn into a driveway. I followed.

Kenny’s villa was a Mediterranean fantasy of palms and gold stone, nestled between the road and the ravine. The view took in the city and the Channel Islands. The ocean was a carpet of light, sapphire brilliant.