Trail of Echoes (17 page)

“Not for you,” I said. “Anything else?”

“No DNA results on anything have come back,” Colin said. “But since this isn't a TV show, that's no surprise.”

Lena pushed away from the dinner table. “And now I suddenly want to go home.
Layla tov,
my dears. Sam Seward, would you be a gentleman and walk me to my car, please?”

I narrowed my eyes at Lena.
What are you gonna say to him?

“I should go, too,” Colin said, retrieving his bag from the living room. “Gotta head back to pick her up—”

“Before the wings are gone and all that body glitter starts clumping?” Lena asked.

Colin pointed at her. “Joke's on you. I
never
eat at a strip club.” He winked at her, then said to me, “Thanks for dinner.”

Sam left the dining room to get his jacket.

Lena stooped near my chair and whispered, “He passed.”

I squinted at her. “What?”

She canted her head. “Sam passed my test. Do you really think I'd barge in on you for no reason? I had to test his tolerance and patience for your people. And he passed. Now, get your freak on, girl.” She winked at me, then tottered out of the dining room.

I stayed at the table and stared at the puddle of pesto in the bottom of the French porcelain bowl, at green beans drying on plates, at candles burned down to stubs. My mind zigzagged between thoughts of Sam, Lena, and the monster. Work won. Again.

He had pulled out Chanita Lords's tooth and had then placed it in her hand.

Was he—Raul Moriaga, maybe?—telling us that she was no longer a child or…?

The night had certainly turned.

As for Normal Living—guess my visit was over.

 

Friday, March 21

 

23

I awoke early Friday morning—5:17 glowed on the nightstand's digital clock. Raindrops tapped at the windowpane, and on the other side of my bed … cold sheets.
You shouldn't have sent him home. You should've guzzled another glass of wine, pushed work out of your head, and … You shouldn't have—

“Oh, shut up,” I muttered, closing my eyes.

I'd call Sam at a decent hour. I'd apologize again for Lena and Colin. I'd offer him a redo. I'd send him cupcakes.

Truth be told, I wasn't ready for overnights, spooning, or early-morning fumbling in the dark followed by sunrise head. I wasn't ready to share my … pie. Truth be told.

I turned away from the place Sam should've lain and pulled the comforter over my head. Thankfully, I was exhausted enough to doze until the eager sun, fresh from that trip to Fiji or Antarctica, pushed aside the clouds and brightened the bedroom with copper-colored light.

A day without rain. Maybe.

As I tugged on my blue wool slacks, my cell phone rang.

Ewoks.

I answered the call. “Good morning, Gregory. I don't have a lot of—”

“Time to talk,” my ex-husband finished, smoky-voiced. “I've heard that before. I know the drill. But Arianna What's-Her-Face, our Realtor? I fired her and hired someone else.”

“Great,” I said, stuffing the tails of my gray shirt into my pants.

“I know you're busy, but this is important. Let's get together.”

“Get together with
you
or with the Realtor?”

Greg paused, then said, “Well, with me first. To talk about a few things.”

I gritted my teeth, tired of this back-and-forth with him.

“So?” Greg said. “When can we talk?”

I buttoned my pants. “Sunday.”

He sighed. “You know, Lou, I—”

“And we're no longer married and I don't have to listen to you complain about me anymore. And now, I'm going to hang—”

“Is it because you're … busy?”

“Yes.”

“You see
Avengers
yet?”

I shoved my left foot into the right loafer. “I did.”

“With Sy and Lena?”

“Nope.”

“I'm working on this cool game you're gonna like.”

I reversed feet, then tried again. “That's nice.”

“It's steam-punk meets—”

“Uh huh, that's nice.” I grabbed a suit jacket and a pair of hiking boots from the closet. “Greg, I need to—”

“Who'd you see
Avengers
—?”

“Gotta go. See you Sunday.”

Outside, puffy white clouds speckled the clean blue sky. Driving south, I glanced in the rearview mirror: sunlight glinted off the Griffith Park Observatory's golden dome. It was cold—fifty-three degrees—but it was good cold. Face-lift cold.

As I opened the door to the detectives' bureau, the peace abruptly ended. The March Madness board had been updated—Texas had defeated Arizona State, and Villanova beat Milwaukee—and that was the only nugget of order. Not even eight o'clock yet, and men in cheap suits shouted into telephones, into radios, and at each other. The copy machine shuttled reams of paper around its drum. Metal desk after metal desk held haphazard stacks of folders, rap sheets, BOLOs, and other detritus found in busy bull pens throughout the galaxy.

My desk served as a monument to organized chaos: Sam's flowers, a stack of color-coded folders, bulging accordion files in the credenza, and one sticky note left by Colin slapped onto my computer monitor.
With Luke. Krispy Kreme for surveillance video … and donuts!!!

“Detective Norton?”

A round-faced, round-bodied black man appeared at my desk as though Scotty had just beamed him down from the starship
Enterprise
. He looked clean and neat in his JCPenney dress shirt and blue and silver sales-rack necktie—the costume of a bank teller or customer-service rep at the gas company. His earnest brown eyes flicked here and there, out of sorts with the environment but not wholly uncomfortable with it, either.

“You left a message with my sister yesterday,” the man said now.

I squinted at him. “I did?”

He nodded. “About Nita. Or Regina. I'm Maurizio—”

“Oh. Yes. That's right. Maurizio Horsley.” I directed him to sit in the empty chair beside my desk. “You and Regina dated.”

“I guess so.” His legs jittered, and he placed his hands between his knees. “We broke up two months ago.”

I grabbed a pen and pad. “Mind telling me why?”

“I caught her forging checks from my bank account.”

My pen paused, and I cocked my head. “Really?”

He wiped at the beads of sweat on the bridge of his nose. “I didn't know she was a thief—we didn't live together. I still don't know where she lives. We always met at places.”

“And where did you first meet?”

“At the bank where I work. I met her daughter only once. Unfortunately.”

“And you say ‘unfortunately' because…?”

“Because one time Regina used her to distract me.” He shook his head. “Gee was tearing checks out of my checkbook while Nita was showing me pictures she'd taken on her camera.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Wow.”

He nodded, and tears filled his eyes like he'd just learned he'd been conned minutes ago.

“You press charges?” I asked.

“She begged me not to. Three strikes.”

I studied him—clean nails, trim mustache, nerve pinging near his left temple, fists clenching and unclenching. “How much she take?”

“A little over a grand.”

“And you just…? You're a nice guy.”

“Her people are…” He swallowed. “I don't want any trouble.”

“And you think Chanita was in on the con?”

He shrugged.

“You hate them?” I asked.

His eyes dropped to his clenching fists. He sighed, then nodded.

“Do you know that Chanita's dead?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have anything to do with her death?”

His eyes widened. “Me? Oh Lord, no! Never. No.”

“Would you be willing to give me a DNA sample?”

“Sure. Yes. Please.” He opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

I chuckled. “Hold on a minute.” I glanced around the room—Pepe was hunched over the copier drum, fixing a paper jam.

A minute later, Maurizio Horsley and Pepe disappeared into one of the interview rooms.

Alone again, I turned in my chair. On the whiteboard, Maurizio's name had been written beneath “POI.”
No wonder he kept wetting the bed.
I placed a check by his name, then found the Web site for MmmGrace Cupcakes. I ordered a dozen salted caramel, to be delivered to Sam Seward with a note:

You are Magic.

 

24

Cupcakes ordered. Spit taken. One suspect down, countless more to go.

Lena texted:
Sam! Plz tell me u are basking!! #afternoondelight

I texted back:
Maybe next time.

She responded.
What are you waiting for?? #ColonyonMars??

I chuckled, then let my fingers dance across the phone's keyboard.
Enough time to bask! #afternoondelight

Colin banged into the office, cell phone to his ear, green and yellow necktie untied. “I had fun, too … No, you're…” He laughed. “Well, I have work to do, darlin'…” He dropped his bag to the floor. “Yep … Yep. I'll let you know.” He tossed the phone on the desk, then plopped into his chair. “Morning, sunshine. You look happy.”

“But you're here,” I said, smiling. “Alas, my joy is short-lived.”

“Ha,” he said, knotting his tie.

“You look nearly recovered.”

He swiveled in his chair. “All thanks to my little hottie.” He found a picture on his phone and showed me Carly, all done up as a naughty nurse.

I snorted. “She doesn't look a day over sixty.”

“She works that pole, though.”

“Well, she's been workin' it since the Prohibition.”

He flipped me the bird. “So, after gettin' some tender lovin' care from
her,
I'm now the picture of health. Never underestimate the power of a woman.”

“One more cliché.”

“I'm strong as an ox.” He stopped swiveling and pointed at me. “You know? I like Sam. You two are a good match. Like peas and carrots.”

I blinked at him. “I hate peas and carrots.”

“You'd eat 'em if you used more butter,” he said. “And you and Sam? You two got lots of butter.”

I rolled my eyes. “So the Krispy Kreme security footage?”

He gave me guns fingers. “Every three days, the manager tapes over shit. So Friday's tape is long gone.”

The muscles in my body felt weighted down—this case was pulling me under, threatening to drown me.

“And Luke has the donuts,” he said.

“And where's Luke?”

“Stopped at Bang Bang's. Dealing with Chanita's phone and e-mail and all that.”

“You left Luke alone with a box of donuts?”

Colin logged on to his computer. “Fat jokes, Elouise?”

“No,” I said, “Pepe told me that Luke now has whatever germs
you
had. And Luke never, ever covers his mouth when he sneezes.”

Colin winced. “So what's on today's agenda?”

“Back to Bonner Park since there's a break in the weather.” I forwarded my desk phone to my cell phone in case Zucca or Brooks called. “Let's get goin' before the rain starts again.”

Usually on sunny weekends at Bonner Park, fifteen-year-old Hispanic girls wearing wedding gowns the color of Jolly Rancher candy posed by the Japanese bridge and waterfall. Her sixteen attendants, each wearing more Jolly Rancher candy–colored gowns, and boys wearing zoot suits, all waited to say “cheese” for the professional photographer.

But this rainy weekend, there would be no
quinceaneras
here.

The only people at the lake now were the old codgers. Each man wore a baseball cap—Steelers, Lakers, Raiders, Best Grandpa Ever. No New Orleans Saints. I relied on that hat—nothing else in Vanessa's picture had been as clear and obvious as that hat.

Colin parked in the community center's empty lot. “Wasn't the sun out when we left? Like, ten minutes ago?”

I glanced at the sky—rain clouds the color of S.O.S. pads had hijacked the friendly clouds and the sun.

“Think the park ranger's in today?” Colin asked.

No other car was parked in the lot, and the community center looked dark. The lower portion of Bonner Park was no longer cordoned off by yellow police tape. Wind whistled through the oaks and eucalyptus trees, and the creak of oil dickeys just over the hill carried on the wind.

Colin's teeth chattered as he shoved his hands deep into his jacket's pockets. “Feels like Colorado today. Thought I left that weather behind.”

I opened the trunk and grabbed the hiking boots. Colin yanked at the center's door—locked. He peered through the iron grate covering the windows, then knocked on the door. “Maybe he's out stopping bears from stealing pic-a-nic baskets.”

I stomped my feet—the boots were warm and dry—then glanced up at the trail that led to the dump site. “Ready?”

“Can't we drive some of the way?”

“We need to see everything—can't do that in a car.” I smiled and elbowed him in the abdomen. “Show me your stuff, Mountain High.”

Ten minutes into our hike, my cell phone vibrated.

An e-mail from Dr. Zach.
Detective Elouise Norton, I have so much to ask you. What kind of coffee do you like? Books or movies? Rom-com or adventure? Boxers or briefs? I'd like to find all these things out
.
But when? I'm in clinic all day but call or email me anytime.

My face flushed. “This guy.”

“Sam?” Colin asked.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket. “No. Just this guy I met.”

Colin shook his head. “You're a little slut now that you're divorced.”