P is for Peril (46 page)

“How's Blanche doing?”

“She's fine. At least she's had peace and quiet for the afternoon. Andrew's picking the kids up after supper tonight . . . assuming we live that long.”

“Mind if I use the bathroom?”

“There's one off the kitchen. You can help yourself.”

“Be right back,” I said.

Fiona returned to the living room and I could hear her issuing orders about the cleanup. The kids even seemed inclined to cooperate.

I walked through the kitchen and unlocked the door leading into the three-car garage. It was dark outside and the yawning space was gloomy. There was a BMW parked in the nearest space, but the other two were empty. She'd told me when Dow came to visit, she made him pull into the garage each time so the local tongues wouldn't wag. I flipped on the overhead light, which didn't help that much.

I took the flashlight from my shoulder bag and crossed to the far wall. I imagined myself sitting in Dow's silver Mercedes. I looked to my left and calculated the trajectory of a bullet fired from the front seat through the driver's head, through the car window, and into the wall. Right about there, I thought. I'd have bet money she never bothered to pry the bullet out of the dry wall. She'd had enough white paint on hand to cover any evidence of what she'd done. Who'd even think to look here? The cops with their metal detectors would be scanning down the hillside as far as the road.

In the light of the faulty overhead bulb, the wall appeared to be smooth. I ran a hand lightly over the finish, expecting to feel the faintly irregular patch of plaster fill. The wall was unblemished. Not a mark anywhere. I shone the light at an angle, hoping for the roughness in the surface to jump into bas-relief. There was nothing. I made a circuit of the space, but there was no indication whatsoever that Dow had been shot to death here before the car was moved. No fragments of glass, no oil patches on the floor where his car had sat. I stood there astonished. I wanted to wail with disappointment. This had to be right. I had been so sure.

The door to the kitchen opened and Fiona appeared. She stood and stared at me. “I wondered what happened to you.”

I looked back at her, mouth suddenly dry, desperate for an explanation that would cover my behavior.

“Detective Paglia was up here earlier, doing exactly the same thing. He checked the walls for a buried bullet and found none.”

“Fiona, I'm sorry.”

“I'm sure you are.” She paused a moment. “One question, please. If I'd actually killed Dowan, why in the world would I hire you?”

I could feel my cheeks grow warm, but I knew I owed her the truth. “I thought you needed to have the body found to collect on the insurance. If you hired me, you'd appear to be above reproach.”

Her gaze bit into me, but she never raised her voice. “You're a very arrogant young woman. Now get out of my house.”

She withdrew, closing the door behind her with a sharp report.

I let myself out. I got back in my car and started down the hill, reeling with shame and embarrassment. What defense did I have? I'd been wrong about her. I'd been wrong about Crystal and Clint Augustine. I'd been wrong about Mariah, who'd made a fool of me. I turned left at the intersection. I'd driven a block when I caught sight of a familiar figure walking backward along the side of the road. Paulie, with her thumb stuck out. Jeans, hiking boots, the same black leather jacket I'd seen her in before. Nice quality leather, too, and I wondered if she and Leila had paid for it with a portion of the stolen thirty grand.

I slowed and pulled over on the berm while she hurried to catch up. By the time she reached the car, I'd opened the door for her on the passenger side. “Hop in. Are you on your way to see Leila?”

“Yeah. She's staying down at the beach.” She got in and slammed the door, smelling of dope and cigarettes. Her hair was brown and straight and might have been shiny if she'd kept it clean. I could see raindrops, like sequins, sprinkled among the strands. She had unconventional looks, but there was something haunting about her eyes, which were large and dark brown. “You can let me off in town. It's no problem finding a ride from there.”

“I don't mind driving you. I could use the air,” I said. I waited for passing traffic and then pulled onto the road. “You're lucky I came by. I'm usually not over in this area. Were you up at Lloyd's?”

“Yeah, but he was out and I couldn't find the key. I didn't want to wait for him in the cold. Aren't you sick of this fuckin' rain?”

I let that one pass. “The two of you are friends?”

“Kind of, because of Leila.”

“How's she going to feel about it when he moves to Las Vegas. Think she'll miss him?”

“Big time. She was really bummed when she heard.”

“Is she back at school?”

“Not until Wednesday. Her mom's driving her down.”

“Well, maybe she'll get to visit Lloyd once he's settled,” I said. “When's he taking off? He said a couple of days.”

“Something like that. I'm trying to talk him into taking me along.”

“You'd leave town?”

“Well, sure. I don't give a shit about this place.”

“Don't you have family here?”

“Just Gram is all and she wouldn't care. She lets me do anything I want.”

I looked over at her. “Have you ever
been
to Las Vegas?”

“Once when I was six.” A smile lit her face and her expression became animated. “We stayed at the Flamingo. Me and my sister swam in the pool and ate so much shrimp cocktail she barfed in a bush. Afterit got dark? We went around and finished all the drinks people left on the tables. What a blast. We were acting like nuts. We couldn't even walk straight.”

“I didn't know you had a sister.”

“I haven't seen her or my mom since.”

I was curious about that, but I'd already asked a lot of questions and I didn't want her to think I was interrogating her . . . though I was, of course.

“I'd have a hard time with the heat.”

“I like it. Even in summer, I bet it wouldn't bother me a bit. I could live there easy. What a hoot.”

“Seems like money would be a problem.”

“Not at all. I have lots.” I could hear her hesitate, pondering the slip. Clearly, she'd told me more than she intended. “I could probably get a job parking cars at one of the big casinos. Something that paid good tips. This guy I know says a parking valet can make up to a hundred a day.”

“I thought you were sixteen.”

“Everybody says I look older. I got a fake driver's license says I'm over eighteen. Nobody checks. As long as you show up for work, what do they care?” She thought she had street smarts, but her notions of how the world worked were wishful thinking on her part. “You think I don't know how to take care of myself?”

“I'm sure you do.”

“I'm fine on my own. I'm used to it by now. I'm living on the street half the time, anyway, so better there than here. Maybe Lloyd'll get a place and I can live with him.”

“You think that's appropriate?”

She gave me an indignant look. “I'm not
banging
the guy. He's just a friend.”

“What will Leila do if you leave? I thought the two of you were inseparable.” What I was really thinking was how easy it would be for Lloyd to tuck the girls in the car with him before he left the state. I didn't believe Paulie would go anywhere without Leila. I glanced at her and watched her struggle with her response.

“That's her problem. She'll figure it out.”

We reached Crystal's beach house. I pulled into the gravel parking area and Paulie got out. I didn't think Crystal would be glad to see her, but she'd probably be polite. I figured Leila and Paulie, inseparable as they were, would end up in jail together within the next few hours. So much for Vegas and her fabulous career as a valet car park.

I left the engine running, waiting while Paulie rang the bell. I noticed the house next door had a SALE PENDING banner now affixed to the FOR SALE sign. Crystal came to the door. If she objected to Paulie's presence, she seemed to keep it to herself. Maybe Leila was easier to get along with in Paulie's company. Crystal caught sight of my car and waved. I returned the wave and backed out of the drive, my headlights washing across the open carport where I could see the Volvo and the convertible. The slot on the extreme left was empty and I was guessing that was the space where Dow had kept his car. I felt a tiny jolt of electricity. I made the turn onto Paloma Lane, drove half a block, and then pulled the VW over to the side of the road. I got out and walked back to the house. As I moved into the drive, my footsteps crunched on the gravel like someone chomping on a mouthful of ice.

Crystal had closed the door and the area was dark. I could smell ocean. I could hear the pounding of the waves. The quiet was like nectar wafting through the still night air. The rain had left the heavy scent of seaweed, pine boughs, and solitude. I swear the very dark had an odor of its own.
Dare to be stupid,
I thought to myself.
Some people think you're stupid, anyway, so what difference does it make?

As I had at Fiona's house, I placed myself in a spot that approximated the location of the Mercedes' front seat, picturing the car parked as it would have been had Dow pulled in that night. Maybe Crystal had promised him sexual treats, spelling out the possibilities in such succulent detail that he'd bypassed his scheduled visit with Fiona and come home to his wife. He must have pictured her coming out to meet him in a flimsy nightgown . . . something diaphanous . . . a thin, silky fabric that the ocean breezes would lift flirtatiously, exposing her legs. Crystal knew how to use her body to good effect. She could have retrieved the Colt Python .357 on an earlier occasion. She'd told the cops Dow kept it in his desk at work or in the glove compartment of his car. She had access to both, especially with Griffith's visits to the nursing home. Even if she appeared wearing sweats and running shoes, all she had to do was open the car door, lean across the seat, and kill him as sweetly as a kiss. Driving the body up to the reservoir was a nice piece of misdirection—the risk of being spotted on the highway apparently less important than this chance to put Fiona in the soup. Given the amount of money Fiona stood to gain, the police would naturally pursue the notion that she'd killed him herself.

I looked to my left and calculated the trajectory of a bullet speeding in that direction. After all, if a shot had been fired from a Colt Python across the space of the front seat and through the kindly doctor's head, one could only imagine the bullet traveling right on, smashing the car window, crossing ten feet of space, and plowing through the shingle siding of the house next door.

I crossed the patchy stretch of grass that lay between the carport and the structure next door. It might have once been a detached garage, joined to the house now and converted to a guest wing or family room. I took out my flashlight and turned it on. I moved the bushes aside and swept the beam across the rough-hewn shingles. The bullet hole was big, as black as a spider sitting on the side of the house.

I retraced my steps across the gravel parking pad to Crystal's front door. I rang the bell. She opened it a moment later, with an expression on her face as if I might be someone soliciting for charity or selling door-to-door. She said, “Oh. I didn't expect to see you. What's going on?”

“I'd like to use your phone.”

She seemed puzzled but stepped back and let me pass in front of her. She was barefoot, wearing sweats, her hair pulled up on the top of her head. She peered out. “Where's your car?”

“It's parked on the road. The engine cut out and I need a way to get home.”

“I can do that,” she said. “Hang on a minute and I'll grab my keys.”

“No, no. Please. I wouldn't want to trouble you. I have a good friend nearby and he's an experienced mechanic. I'll just ask him to take a look. Maybe he can fix it right there and send me on my way.”

“Well, if that doesn't work out, I can always run you home.”

From upstairs, I could hear the thunder of music being played at top volume. I pictured Paulie and Leila planning their escape. I really hoped the cops would show up before they made good on their “getaway.” I wasn't sure where Rand was. Maybe off in the bathroom, getting Griffith ready for bed.

She showed me into the den and then stood in the doorway while I took a seat at the desk. I smiled at her briefly and said, “This won't take a minute,” hoping she would leave. I picked up the receiver and dialed Jonah's home number. If Camilla answered, I was screwed. On other occasions, she'd left the receiver on the table and walked off, refusing to tell Jonah I was on the line for him. When the call was picked up, he said, “Jonah Robb.”

“Oh, hi. It's me.”

“Kinsey?” He sounded puzzled, as well he should have.

“Yes, it is.”

“What's up?”

“I'm at Crystal's beach house. I've got a little problem and I'd love to have you take a look.”

“All right,” he said, cautiously. “I'm buying this. Like what?”

“No problem. I can wait. Is that convenient for you? Because if it's not, I can always try Vince.”

“Well, you know, I'm right in the middle of something. Is this important?”

“Completely. You have the address?”

“I know the place. Are you in trouble?”

“Not yet, but I could be. I'll see you shortly and thanks. I appreciate this.”

I replaced the receiver and when I looked up again, Anica had joined Crystal in the doorway. The two stood close together, Crystal in front, Anica slightly behind. Anica's hand was on her arm, and I suddenly understood what I'd been looking at all along. Anica said, “Is there a problem?”