Bobby's Diner (20 page)

“You see that’s just it, Van. I
remember him telling me it was all talk. Harold never really did anything about
preserving the land because no one around here seemed
 
to
 
care too much one way or the other. He thought he could rally people for
a preservation trust but the idea sank before it even got started. Other things
came up—bigger issues that people cared more about— school levies, sales tax
increases, water issues. So, he dropped the ball. It’s been town land from day
one with no easements on it, no
 
preservation classification. People assumed he’d followed
 
through because he talked about it so often,
but he hadn’t. It was just town land sitting there, held in investment. But,
what I don’t get is how he could sell it without causing a stir. It must have
been real hush-hush even to the people around him.

“You’ll see he was traveling a
lot. Every time he went down to Phoenix he took with him a contract to be
signed and every time he returned he brought back a commission check. I have
this gut feeling this Pinzer guy was somehow involved in the attacks on the
businesses in your
 
strip. I can’t
imagine Harold would allow violence. But, I guess I really didn’t know him very
well, did I?” She took a long thoughtful swallow from her glass and dabbed at
her upper lip daintily to catch a drip of scotch left there. Helen stopped
talking now. We were letting her words sink in. I looked at Van and then back
down at all the documents.

Four hours later, around two that
morning, we had a plan. We’d go to the authorities and explain what Helen had
found. We’d tell them together—stand together— because Helen had a huge stake
in this and Vanessa and I weren’t going to let her go down alone for this if our
suspicions were right that Harold was somehow behind the whole thing. After
going back and forth on the particulars several times, we finally agreed to
meet at Helen’s house the following
 
morning at nine and drive down together.

***

I’d spent the morning with
Gangster going over my lines, my part in the discussion. I kept repeating the
facts as I knew them to be from my perspective. And, what Helen had told us
sure seemed a viable reason for the brief crime spree felt by our little
community.

But, when I got to Helen’s the
next morning like we’d planned she wasn’t there. The door was locked the
house
 
was dark. I rang the doorbell
checked the backyard—nothing. The garage was closed and when I looked into a
window to see if her car was there it was empty—no car either. I began to panic
but then remembered Vanessa would be here shortly too and to hold off
 
making any assumptions about Helen’s
whereabouts.

After thirty minutes I started to
worry again, so I left a note for Vanessa on Helen’s front door:

I
went home. Come meet me when you get this note. Where’s Helen?

I got to my phone and immediately
called Vanessa’s house. Roberta answered the phone.

“Carlisle residence.”

“Hi, honey. It’s me. Is your
mother there?”

“I thought she was meeting you
and Helen?”

“Well, she didn’t. I waited at
Helen’s a good thirty minutes. I’m a little frazzled, Roberta. Helen wasn’t
there either.”

“Weren’t you all supposed to meet
at the police station? At least, I think that’s where she said she was going?
What’s going on, anyway?”

“Oh, shit! I screwed up. I
thought we were all supposed
 
to meet at
Helen’s. Oh, thanks, Roberta. I spaced
 
that one small little detail.” My voice was strained but managed to have
a sarcastic quality as well. “Jeez, Georgie. I’m
 
the one with amnesia but I remembered that!”

“Yeah, thanks. Gotta go. Talk to
you later, honey. Bye.” I’d successfully avoided telling Roberta what was
happening hopefully without offending her and raced well over the speed limit
to the police station. Helen and Vanessa were waiting for me outside.

***

“I never would’ve guessed,
Helen.” Vanessa was only learning the depth of Helen and only before her
possible move away from here.

“She carries a journal around
with her, Van.”

“It’s no big thing. I’ve only had
one poem win anything at all. But, you’re right, it’s kind of exciting to see
your work in print.” Helen beamed through tired eyes. We all drove over to the
diner for a bite. It was Monday and we didn’t have to work. So, we sat with the
lights off in the bright sunlit room and made some sandwiches. We were all
drinking ice tea, the caffeine boost was needed from the previous late night.

“Well, I think we did the right
thing. The police will let us know their progress and hopefully we’ll get to
the bottom of this.”

“I’ve been praying it turns out
Harold isn’t involved, but those documents look pretty damning.”

“Well,
 
you
 
make
 
good
 
on
 
paying
 
back
 
those commissions and people will see what a
decent person you are, Helen.”

***

After we went our separate ways I
still felt my friends were close with me. I had a sense I’d always have them
close one way or another, in my heart. And, when I got home and saw my message
light blinking on the phone I couldn’t have been more pleased by the sound of
the voice on the other end. But, after I heard her words I knew there was
trouble brewing. And, the warm blush of
 
camaraderie I’d felt just moments before was threatened in an instant by
the nettling news she was leaving on my recorder.

Gangster flew from the bedroom
into the kitchen to see me and rubbed against and through my legs.

“You hungry, buddy?” He purred
out a yes. It’d been an entire day since I’d filled up his kibble bowl only a
few crumbs rested in its bottom. His water looked dingy and floated with hair
and spittle from not refreshing it for over twenty-four hours, or was it the
day before that? After tending to him, Gangster greedily ate the oily fishy
smelling crunchy nuggets his head mantled over the bowl like he’d just killed
another baby rabbit. When he was finished he jumped
 
back
 
up onto the travertine counter to offer his thanks. While I stroked his
fur, one of my hands rested on the counter. It never ceased to amaze me how the
marble stayed so cool in this desert’s heat.

My other hand automatically
joined the petting. His back arched along my fingernails as I scratched from
his nose down his back and off the tip of his tail. He had a little knot of
matted hair down near his rump and my mind settled to a memory of how Bobby
used to scratch my back for hours every Sunday morning without fail, our
precursor to love-making. But, then my mind wandered back to the blinking
message. I’d had too many messages lately all delivering bad news. I wasn’t
sure I could handle anymore trouble this soon.

CHAPTER 31

“We’re here to speak with a Mr.
John Chariot, he’s expecting us.” Detective Mark had been with Sunnydale only a
few years when his wife insisted they moved north out of the crime-laden city
to a smaller town where the kids had a better chance of avoiding urban peer-
pressure. He and Willy met at Chariot with two Phoenix detectives he’d had the
pleasure of working with during his stint here a few years back. They’d all
first met at the station downtown to go over details of
 
their impending interviews with Chariot and
Pinzer.

“He’ll be right with you.” The
receptionist remained cool even though she knew the men in front of her were
officers of the law and even though Willy was donning his Sunnydale police
uniform. She turned back to her keyboard and began typing without missing a
beat. Another
 
phone call, she pressed a
button and spoke into her head set as she typed.

“Just a moment please, may I say
who’s calling? Thank you.” She pressed a code into the switchboard keys and
transferred the call.

Just then John Chariot came into
the lobby and greeted the men. He shook each of their hands strongly and
quickly.

“Hello, detectives, officer.
Let’s talk in the conference room, shall we? Tamara, hold my calls, please.”
“Yes, Mr. Chariot.”

Chariot turned and led the four
men toward a lush room laden with leather and mahogany wood.

“Can I get you anything? Water,
coffee?”

“Nothing, sir. We need to ask you
a few questions. Would that be okay?”

“Absolutely. What can I help you
with?”

“Are you familiar with the land
purchase between Chariot and the town of Sunnydale?”

Chariot’s face tightened and
became red. He spoke trying to mask his outrage with Pinzer. “Yes and no.”
“Will
 
you
 
please explain what you mean, Mr. Chariot?”
Detective Mark spoke deliberately and with little inflection.

“I remember one of my VPs was
drawing up documents for its purchase. But, I intercepted them because the
property, the land is corridor land. And, our mission is to build boutique
malls within areas with an already established demographic. We don’t try to develop
 
areas,
 
we
 
situate
 
ourselves
 
in
 
already developed areas, like
Phoenix, Carefree, Scottsdale, La Jolla, San Luis Obispo—areas like that. My
mission has never been to try to develop a town, understand?”

“So,
 
what
 
you’re
 
saying
 
is
 
you
 
didn’t
 
have knowledge of the purchase?”

“No, I did not. I told Zach to
renege on the agreement. To tell the mayor we were going to have to pass. What
has the mayor said about all of this? Did he say I was involved? Because if he
did, he’s lying. I never wanted this transaction to happen.” Chariot was
spilling like people do when the law is sitting staring them in the face.

“The mayor is dead.” “What?”

“He was killed in an automobile
accident on his way to Sunnydale back from Phoenix.”

“Oh, dear god .”

Chariot seemed completely
surprised by the mayor’s death and sincerely angered about the land purchase.
“So, sir, you
 
knew nothing about this
purchase.

Money was exchanged, commissions
paid.”

“I only knew Zach wanted this.
Nothing more. Do I need a lawyer?”

“If you feel you need one, sir.
We’re here to try and get to
 
the bottom
of a sudden burst of crime in Sunnydale. This information about the land just
came to our attention yesterday.”

“Well, talk to Pinzer. I had
nothing to do with this.”

***

Leyla leaned into Detective Mark
seductively when she brought each of the men a bottle of water.

“Mr. Pinzer will be right with
you, officer.” She said it close to his face.

“It’s detective.” He spoke
without humor and absent of facial
 
expression. Leyla stood straight when he corrected her.

“Well, he’ll be right with you,
detective.” Her more professional demeanor returned upon Detective Mark’s curt
retort. The men all looked at each other when Leyla turned her back on them to
head back to her desk.

Fifteen minutes passed and the
men had yet to meet Zach Pinzer. He’d been hiding out in his office too long when
the men waiting outside his door began to whisper quietly among themselves.

That’s when Detective Mark stood
and straightened his pants.

“Tell Pinzer we’ll return with a
warrant and compel him to meet with us… downtown.” The others stood to leave
when Leyla realized the seriousness of them being there.

“Wait, just a minute, I’ll call
him again.” She dialed his extension and turned away to whisper the urgent message.
Then, she hung up the phone. “He said he’ll be right out.”

The men preferred to stand rather
than sit again and looked impatient in the next few moments before Zach Pinzer
appeared. He opened his door slowly, coolly. Pinzer appeared to Detective Mark
clean-cut, perhaps too clean-cut.

“Gentlemen. So, sorry about the
delay, it’s crazy here today. Do come in.”

Detective Mark let the others
enter Pinzer’s office before following them. Zach held the door open and when
they were all well inside he followed them in.

“Leyla, hold my calls, will you?”

“Yes, Zach.” She said it
seductively and let their intimacy seep into the comment. Zach pressed a look at
her that meant for her to Stop! She looked at the papers in front of her when
he closed the door behind him. Detective Mark
 
caught it all and remained standing while Zach moved to a place that put
him behind his desk, his barrier from the men in his office.