Born to Be Wild (20 page)

On Sunday morning, shortly after eight-thirty, Mary Lisa made her way through her trashed living room to the front door.

The doorbell sounded again and a big fist pounded on it three times.

She threw it open to see Jack Wolf and Detective Vasquez standing side by side in front of her. The morning sun blasted her in the face.

“I can't believe you two are here at this hour. You were the last to leave the party. Go away. It's early, my house is wrecked, and I want to go back to bed.”

“We'll help you clean up,” Jack said and simply pushed past her. “This is important, Mary Lisa. We need to talk.”

She turned around and left them standing in her front door. Jack yelled, “I'm making coffee. Get your butt back out here in ten minutes or I'm coming in after you.”

Her bedroom door slammed.

Daniel looked after her, then back at Jack, a dark brow raised. “What's with you two?”

“I told you what she let drop yesterday, about wanting to become her own investigator. I tried to pin her about it last night, but she wouldn't talk about it. This is something we've got to nip in the bud, Daniel.”

“Yeah, well, on the other hand, it got a little wild here in the house last night—outside too—so I can understand her wishing we weren't here on Sunday morning.” Daniel looked down at his watch. “I go to ten o'clock Mass. I got maybe thirty minutes with her, tops.”

“Good morning, boys. How's things?”

Lou Lou walked into the living room, her hair tousled about her head, wearing a man's short-sleeved black T-shirt that came to the top of her thighs and nothing else. Well, maybe bikini panties, but Jack didn't want to think about that. She yawned hugely.

They heard another yawn and another woman appeared, this one wearing pale pink pajama bottoms that came to mid stomach and a dark blue short-cropped top. She looked over at the two men, nodded. “Good morning, Detective Vasquez. Chief Wolf. I forgot to ask last night—chief of what?”

Lou Lou laughed. “Don't shred his manhood this early, Elizabeth. He's the chief of police from Goddard Bay, Mary Lisa's hometown. He's here to assist Danny.”

“That's me, Danny's assistant.”

Elizabeth rubbed a hand over her very firm, tanned belly, both men's eyes on those moving fingers of hers. She yawned, streaked her fingers through her hair. “Good to see both of you again. But it's very early, you know.”

Daniel said, “Lou Lou said you were flying home yesterday, but you didn't get here until about one o'clock in the morning. What happened?”

“Lucky me, the plane was delayed.” She gave another huge yawn.

Jack was studying her, a slight frown on his face. “I thought this last night—you look familiar.”

Lou Lou laughed. “She's Elizabeth Verras. She's one of our local TV newscasters.”

Daniel Vasquez was walking toward the kitchen. “You want coffee, Lou Lou? Elizabeth?”

“That'd be nice, Danny. What are you two doing here? It's barely dawn.”

“I know you didn't expect us, but why don't you go cover yourself up a bit, Lou Lou, Ms. Verras? Detective Vasquez here was just planning to go to church.”

Lou Lou yawned again. She grinned now at Detective Vasquez. “Don't be a prude, Jack. Come on to the kitchen, I'll make the coffee. Elizabeth, you want tea?” Jack pictured her stretching up to reach the coffee or some mugs and made no move to join her.

“Jack makes great coffee,” Daniel said. “Why don't you let him do it this time?”

Lou Lou shook her head. “Nope, I don't think that's such a good idea. See, Danny, he knows all the voices are going to bring Mary out of her bedroom in a few minutes, and he'd better have a plan when he sees her. Jack's a guy, he can't multitask, so I'll make the coffee.”

Elizabeth gave them all a sleepy smile. “I'll go fetch Mary Lisa right now. If we're up it's only fair that she be up too.”

Jack waited for Elizabeth to leave the kitchen. “I was wondering why Mary Lisa wears what she wears to bed and you wear this.”

“Well, the thing is, we had a sort of slumber party last night after everyone left—what, around two a.m.? Thanks for shooing everyone out. Big problem though—a few people drifted back after you left, so we brought out the tarot cards and did readings until around four. Mary Lisa likes to sit cross-legged when she reads the tarot cards, and you can't wear a T-shirt and sit cross-legged. So she put on her pj's and that man's extra-large sweatshirt you saw her in. Maybe that's why she disappeared back to her bedroom. Anyway, some people crashed out on Mary Lisa's back deck. Mary Lisa bought a whole bunch of aerobeds last year, so the deck was covered with bodies. I heard them talking about an hour ago. Carlo suggested the Belgian coffee shop, so off they went, after they made sure I was sleeping with Mary Lisa. You know, so she wouldn't be alone and unprotected.” She scratched her elbow. “So was Elizabeth, once we managed to haul her off to bed. See, she was reading a Major Arcana and just fell over.”

The living room was a mess but the kitchen was spotless. “That's the deal,” Lou Lou said. “Mary Lisa cleans up everything else if guests scrub down the kitchen.”

“Well, we don't need any Belgian coffee shop.” Daniel whipped a bag from behind his back. “I brought donuts.”

Mary Lisa eyed that bag. “Mary Lisa can smell a donut from fifty feet.”

They heard Mary Lisa's voice from the hallway. “Any glazed?”

The five of them were settling into the kitchen when Daniel got a call from the station. “I hate to spoil such a perfect breakfast, but I'm outta here. Puker Hodges just staggered in to the station. They took him to the hospital.”

 

“
HE
was a skinny guy, slouchy jeans and T-shirt, dark sunglasses, a baseball cap turned backwards. He hit me and that's the last thing I saw.” Puker's hand was shaking as he picked up a Styrofoam cup of hot black coffee and drank it.

Puker was going to be all right, a couple of bruises and a lump on the side of his head, and he was dehydrated. The hospital staff had cleaned him up, bagged his filthy clothes, and were currently dripping a liquid into his IV. Daniel sat on one side of his hospital bed, while Jack stood at the door, his arms crossed over his chest.

Daniel asked him, “It's been three days, Mr. Hodges. Where did he take you?”

“Okay, move aside, you guys, I want to see the lame-brain here.” Mary Lisa slithered past Jack, who made a grab for her arm and missed. She stormed up to the bed, stared down at Puker, hands on her hips. “Well, you moron, I guess it's lucky you're still alive.”

“Mary Lisa! What—hey, I'm not a moron! I was developing some photos, minding my own business, in my own apartment—I called you, didn't I?”

“Yeah, to extort something from me. Then you tried him. Did you find out who he was? Try a little blackmail?”

“I didn't try to blackmail anyone—”

Daniel rose. “You found out the guy's name and you called him, demanded money, didn't you, Puker?”

“My name's Poker! Don't call me Puker! You started it, Mary Lisa. Even the emergency room nurse called me Puker!”

“—So you made demands. Only the guy came to your apartment, clobbered you, only not quite hard enough, and got his hands on the photos, right, and hauled you out? He could have killed you, you idiot.”

Puker's voice caught on a sob. “I thought he was going to kill me. He beat me up. It was awful!”

Jack said, “So why didn't he? Kill you, that is?”

Puker shot a quick look at the big man. “I don't know why he didn't kill me. He hauled me out of my apartment and kept me tied up in some old, empty store. He hardly fed me anything, only let me loose when I had to pee. He hardly even talked to me, even when I tried to get him to talk about Mary Lisa.”

Mary Lisa nearly threw herself on him, but Jack caught her in time. “Let me go, Jack, I want to beat the stuffing out of this jackass. Oh dear, I just insulted an innocent animal. Look at you, Puker, you look more like a reject from Jurassic Park. Don't you realize what a stupid thing you did?”

Puker was cowering, his head pressed back against the thin pillow. “It was only business, Mary Lisa, only business. I didn't think he'd mind giving me a few bucks. Then I would have sent the photos to the cops and everyone would have been happy. I never dreamed he'd come to my apartment—”

“What's his name, Puker? Do you know his name?”

“It's Jamie Ramos. He drives a van with his damned name on the right side so that's how I knew what it was. His phone number was on the side of the van too.”

“What was he advertising, this Jamie Ramos?” Daniel asked, leaning closer.

“He fixes motorcycles. There was a picture of a bike on the van.”

“And how did you know he was the one trying to hurt Mary Lisa?”

Puker waved his hand for the nurse to come in when she appeared in the doorway. She shot a disgusted look at Puker, passed over the cops and Mary Lisa, then did a double take. She stared and began to smile. “I know who you are. Goodness gracious, you're Sunday Cavendish! I tape you every day and now your long-lost father is in town and—oh my, can I have your autograph?”

Puker whimpered. Daniel laughed, shook his head. “Mary Lisa, why don't you go outside for a moment and give Nurse Ffalkes your autograph. We'll keep Mr. Hodges company.”

“Would that be all right, Nurse Ffalkes?” Mary Lisa asked as she walked out the door beside her.

Nurse Ffalkes sent a short look back toward Puker. “Well, it's not as if he's going to die or anything. What did he do?”

“He's a paparazzo who almost got me killed.”

A brief silence, then Nurse Ffalkes, her face flushed, said, “Hammer the putz.”

“I'm going to record this, Mr. Hodges,” Daniel said. “Is that all right with you?”

Puker continued to look pitiful and stare down at his clasped hands. He shuddered a sigh, and nodded.

Mary Lisa wanted to kick him out the hospital window, the drama queen.

“When did you realize this man, Jamie Ramos, was the one who was trying to kill Mary Lisa Beverly?”

“When I happened to be near Mary Lisa—not too close, of course, because of that restraining order—I noticed he was following her. I knew he wasn't another freelance photographer—”

“
Excuse
me? Freelance what?”

Daniel frowned toward Mary Lisa, shook his head. “Yes, Mr. Hodges, please continue.”

“Yeah, well, that's what I am. A freelance photographer. Anyway, I thought he was acting kind of weird, so I stayed with him. I figured he might be the guy who'd tried to run her down.”

“What do you mean he was acting weird?”

“He had this notebook and every time he stopped the van for a red light, he wrote in the notebook.”

“Did you ever see him make a move toward her?”

“No, but it was obvious to me he was pissed because he couldn't get near her. She always had people around her. I saw him bang his fists on the steering wheel, and then he wrote something really fast in his notebook.”

“So you took his picture?”

“Yes, I took three snapshots.”

“Describe the man to me again, Mr. Hodges, in more detail this time.”

“He's about five foot ten inches, maybe thirty, a little older, hard to tell. He always wore really dark sunglasses. I think he might be Hispanic, because he was all dark skinned, or maybe he had a really good tan. I never really saw his hair because he always wore a baseball cap, backward, you know?”

“Okay, he's got short hair since the cap covered it. When he spoke to you, did he have an accent?”

“Yeah, but I couldn't place it. It wasn't real thick, like he came to the U.S. when he was young.”

“All right, so you snapped his picture. You said you wrote down his name and phone number off the side of the van. You said there was a motorcycle on the side of the van. Any more writing?”

“Yeah, block printing, all black. ‘Motorcycle Repair.' There was a drawing of a Harley underneath it.”

“You took a picture of the side of the van?”

“Yes, but he destroyed it, along with everything else, the bastard.”

“Stay with me here, Mr. Hodges. What make was the van? Describe it.”

“An old Dodge van, I think, white but dirty, with windows only in the back.”

“Did you get the license plate?”

“No, I didn't see it.”

“Okay, then you went back to your apartment, processed the film, and called Mary Lisa, right?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“How long after you spoke to Mary Lisa did you call Jamie Ramos?”

Puker pleated the thin hospital blanket. “Well, ah, I wouldn't have called the guy, but I was thinking I wasn't really sure he was the right guy—you know, the one who tried to run Mary Lisa down. I only wanted to talk to him, make sure before I got him in trouble. I didn't call him to blackmail him, I didn't. I wanted to do the right thing. I didn't want to accuse the wrong guy.”

He looked up for a response from Detective Vasquez, but an arched brow was all he got. “Please continue, Mr. Hodges. You called the phone number on the side of the van?”

“Yes, I'm guessing it was a cell phone. He answered it right away.”

“Do you have that number, Mr. Hodges?”

“It was on the photograph. I'm not sure. Maybe it'll be on my phone record?”

“What did you say to him, Mr. Hodges?”

“I told him I'd seen him following Mary Lisa Beverly and I wondered if he was the guy who's trying to kill her. He was silent for at least ten seconds, then he offered to pay me five thousand dollars for the pictures and the film.”

“How'd he know you had pictures and film, Mr. Hodges?”

“Well, I guess I must have told him, you know, in the course of our conversation.”

Mary Lisa snarled.

“So before he went silent for ten seconds, you not only asked him if he was the guy but you told him you took photos of him and his van.”

“Yeah, I guess I did. But I didn't mean anything by it. I was nervous. I guess I blabbed it out.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, I told him that wasn't going to happen, that I didn't want to see Mary Lisa hurt and I was going to take the photos to the police.”

“Weren't you afraid of retribution?”

“I didn't really think about it. Besides, how could the guy know who I was?”

“You think he could have known you've been taking pictures of Mary Lisa for the tabloids? Or maybe caller ID?”

Puker looked down at his hands. “Oh shit.”

“And what did he say?”

“He hung up on me.”

“But you didn't call the police, Mr. Hodges.”

“No, not right away, but it isn't why you think, Detective Vasquez. I was just taking a little time to think it over, you know? All right, I thought making a few extra prints might be useful, you know, when I took the prints to the police, so I was in the darkroom when the doorbell rang. I thought it was Mary Lisa, only it wasn't. It was Ramos, and he hit me hard, knocked me down, then he kicked me, knocked me into the living room. I fought back, and we wrecked some of my furniture, but then he hit me with something hard in his hand—a sap, or something—and I was out.”

Jack stood beside Mary Lisa, his hand around her forearm. She sucked in her breath, pulsing with anger, but she managed to be still. He grinned at her and began to lightly rub her elbow.

Daniel sighed. “What happened then?”

“Like I said, when he hit me with that sap, I was out. When I woke up, I was in this empty room staring at a blank wall, tied to a chair.”

“Where did he take you, Mr. Hodges?”

“I didn't know then and I still don't know. Like I said, when I woke up I was there, tied up.”

“What color are his eyes, Mr. Hodges?”

“I told you, Detective Vasquez, he always wore sunglasses, never took them off, but like I said, maybe he was Hispanic, on the dark side, you know? He didn't look all that strong—kind of skinny, loose clothes, and his white T-shirt wasn't clean.”

It sounded like the description the California girl had given Jack on the beach yesterday afternoon.

“Was he there when you woke up?”

“No. I was alone, facing that wall. I don't know for how long, but it seemed like a long time before I heard him come in behind me. He hit me first thing, in the stomach, then in my face—see, I still have bruises on my cheek. He told me I shouldn't have gotten in the way, that he was going to make me pay for that. That's when I knew he was going to kill me.”

Puker began to cry.