Deceived (18 page)

“Yes?”

“Things are moving very quickly.”

“Did they find anything?”

“Like what?” Moss said.

Playing possum, this one was. “Wasn’t there supposed to be an autopsy?”

“Right,” Moss said. “There was. That was fast, too. I got the verbal on it. Accidental death. I’m very sorry, again.”

Liz tried not to look relieved. Toby had apparently come through.

“I would like to ask you just one more thing, if I may,” Moss said. “When you were out hiking with your husband, did you see anyone else out there?”

“No. It was pretty quiet.”

“Didn’t hear anything?”

“Like what?”

“Odd sounds. Sounds that shouldn’t be in nature.”

“Not that I remember.”

The detective knew about the biker body. Liz was sure of that now. They had found the man and wanted to see if she knew anything. Liz felt her pulse pounding in her neck and was sure Moss could see it, like little fists popping out under her skin. She took a breath and composed herself.

“So you didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary?” Moss said.

“No. Nothing. I was on a nice hike with my husband who is — ” Liz put a little catch in her throat, then lowered her head.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Towne. I know how fresh this is. I promise I won’t be much longer.”

You’ d better not be
,
or I’ ll be calling your superiors.
“Go ahead.”

“Well, it’s the strangest thing. Really, a terrible coincidence. Not very far from where your husband fell, we found a corpse.”

“A corpse?”

“Yes.”

“How awful. Who was it?”

“We’re looking into that. It was a man on a motorcycle. I wonder how he got there. That’s why I wanted to know if you heard anything. It was a Harley, so it would have been hard to miss.”

Liz shook her head. “It was as quiet as always out there.”

“It’s just very strange. It could have just been a guy out for a ride, he got a little careless and went over off the path. It’s happened to some kids on bicycles around here. But never something fatal.”

“I can hardly believe it.”

“Oh, and there was one other thing. His motorcycle had a couple of saddlebags on it that were empty. Not that that means anything, of course, but it’s just so doggone strange. You never know, you know? You stay in a job long enough.”

Liz nodded. A hot, dry wind blew across her face. It felt like the fever she had when she was twelve that sent her to the hospital. She remembered almost fainting because of it. But later she thought it made her stronger, because she never got that sick again. She refused to.

“I’m sorry, Detective. We didn’t see or hear anything. It was just supposed to be a nice walk. That’s . . . all . . .”

“I understand. Thanks for your time.”

“No problem,” Liz said. Sweet relief. But she kept herself from showing it and stood up.

Moss stood and started for the steps, paused, turned around. “Just one other thing. Do you have Arty’s cell phone?”

“What?” Liz said.

“Do you have it in the house?”

“Um, I don’t know. Maybe it’s at his office.”

“Oh,” Moss said. “Was he still working at, what was it?”

“RumbleTV.”

“That’s it. Do you have the address?”

Liz rubbed her right eye with the heel of her hand. “No, he hadn’t been there for a while. I’m just so upset. Do you mind?”

“No, of course not,” Moss said. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you so soon.”

Meaning what? You’ ll disturb me later?

At the foot of the stairs, Moss turned. “You’ll look for that cell phone, won’t you?”

“But why?”

“I don’t know exactly. I just like to clean things up.”

I’ll bet you do, Liz thought.

10:35 a.m.

How do you not look conspicuous?

Mac wasn’t any good at this, sneaking around. And he felt dirty. Was this deception? Would Jesus approve?

He had to get it right this time. Quit letting God down. Stick to the true.

He was parked in his pickup across from the school. He had a map of California open on the steering wheel, but he was not studying the map. He was looking across at the school yard, looking for his daughter.

Was this like a lie? To pretend to be studying a map? It was a dodge, in case someone thought a battered Chevy pickup with a guy behind the wheel just sitting there didn’t look right.

He was even ready to tell a cop or security guard that he was on his way to Ojai and wondered what the right way was.

And that would be a lie.

The children were out playing kickball. This was supposed to be Aurora’s school, at least it was the last time he’d ever gotten any useful information from his ex-wife. This was the school she had picked for their daughter to attend.

Of course, all he knew about Aurora was that she had red hair. And right now he didn’t see any girl that fit that description.

A teacher or an aide, a woman, came to the chain-link fence and looked directly at him.

He quickly turned his eyes to the map, even moved it a little as if studying.

Lord
,
help me. If this is wrong
,
I won’t to do it. But I need to see her.
Can you at least let me see her?

The woman was still there. She looked back at the kids, then at Mac.

Headache coming.

He was almost watching himself now as he crumpled the map in his hands. Made it into a wadded ball and threw it against the windshield.

It ricocheted off the glass, hit the passenger seat, rolled harmlessly to the floor.

God.

Please.

He fired up the truck and drove on.

10:48 a.m.

“Hi,” Rocky said into the phone. “Is Mr. Militi in?”

“Who’s calling?”

“Roxanne Towne.”

“Just a second.”

Rocky looked at Geena, who was smiling and holding up crossed fingers. “Go ahead and vibrate if you want to,” Rocky told her. “If you want to spin like a top, I won’t stop you. Remember the Tasmanian Devil on — ”

“This is Ermano.”

“Oh, hi, Mr. Militi. This is Roxanne Towne.”

“Yes?”

“I was just wondering — ”

“Oh, yes! Yesterday. Here in the lounge. You want to know, I know.”

“Yes — ”

“You got good pipes, you do.”

“Thank you — ”

“And that’s my job, you know. Pipes. You got ’em.”

“Thanks, I — ”

“You got some style, too. Maybe not as distinct yet. But you keep working.”

“I will work my heart out, Mr. Militi.”

“You do that, and sometime down the road, eh?”

Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach. “I can bring them in for you. I do a whole Cole Porter slate — ”

“I just don’t think it’s the right fit for the club at this moment in time.”

“Right fit?”

“You know, being around as you are, each club’s got a personality . . .”

Yeah, like yours is the Mafia, she thought. Then she told herself it was unfair. It was her face. Too distracting for the customers.

“So I want to wish you all the luck in the world, kid,” Militi said. “Truly.”

Before she could say another word, the connection cut.

Geena said, “Not good, huh?”

“Chalk up another victory for the singing career,” Rocky said.

“Rocky — ”

“No, it’s time I got it through my head that I am not going to make it in public. Better to sing in the shower because nobody can see me in the shower.”

“Come on,” Geena said.

“I’ll go back to the apartment today. Get whatever’s left and put it in the car and go find my own place.”

“Stay here with me,” Geena said.

“I don’t want to bring you anymore bad luck.”

“You haven’t brought me any bad luck, and anyway — ”

“Thanks for trying.” Rocky put her phone in her purse and started to leave.

“I’ll go with you,” Geena said.

“No,” Rocky said. “I want to be alone right now.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe I’d go to the park and scream at people as they walk by.”

Geena blinked.

“I’m kidding, cutie,” Rocky said. “Half kidding, anyway.”

“Don’t get drunk.”

She left Geena smiling at the door.

Rocky did go to the park, five blocks from Geena’s. The day wasn’t so bad. A little cloudy. They said it was supposed to rain later in the week.

Just not tomorrow, she hoped. Tomorrow when Arty’s rushed funeral would be held. She wanted it to be good for Arty, for his memory.

And she kept wondering about Liz’s conversion story.

Very, very convenient.

But what if it was true?
What are you missing out on
,
Rocky Towne?
Is there some sort of spiritual brass ring out there? Need to grab it?

She found a bench by the fountain and watched some kids playing on the slides. A little girl in a red jacket was being helped up the steps by her mother, who sat the girl at the top of the slide.

Rocky remembered her dream of Arty sliding down and disappearing.

The little girl on the slide, she was maybe three years old, whined. But her mother took her hand and said, “Hold on to me. I’m right here.”

The girl stopped whining. She took a breath and then she went. She screamed on the way down, a joyful scream. When she got off, she had a big smile on her face.

“Again,” she said.

It must be nice to have somebody right there, Rocky thought. To hold your hand on the way down.

She noticed a boy staring at her. Short black hair, like a brush. Six or seven years old.

“Hi,” Rocky said.

“What happened to your face?” the boy said.

Direct little fellow.
“A dog bit me when I was a girl.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No.”

“Not ever?”

“Maybe a little sometimes.”

The boy didn’t say anything.

“What’s your name?” Rocky said.

“Andrew,” he said.

“My name’s Rocky.”

“Rocky?”

She nodded.

“Is that a girl’s name?” Andrew said.

“Sometimes.”

“Okay. Bye.”

The boy turned and ran toward the slides. She kind of admired that. You say what you want, then get out. Ask your question, then go on about your business.

Good luck there, Andrew, she thought. I hope you have some good times. Somebody should in this life.

1:52 p.m.

Replacing a fuse for Mr. Hecht, Mac thought, People sometimes kidnap their own children.

He shook his head, almost as if trying to jostle the idea from his mind.

But it stuck.

Just take your own child and —

“Stupid,” he said.

“How’s that?” Mr. Hecht said. He was sitting in a lawn chair, reading the newspaper. Another one of the old church members, Mr. Hecht was. His wife had died a year ago.

“Sorry,” Mac said. “Just mumbling.” The new fuse in, Mac shut the box. He tried to shut his mind off the same way.

But he couldn’t stop the thought of running, getting away from this place, from Slezak and the courts and the rules. Taking Aurora with him.

Of course, he couldn’t. Not that he wasn’t capable. There was still larceny in his soul, he was sure of that. This whole new-creation business was slow on God’s part. Especially with the material Mac had handed over to him.

Stop thinking about yourself
,
stupid. Help Liz and Arty’s sister get
through this time.

“Can I run my washing machine now?” Mr. Hecht said.

“Sure can,” Mac said.

“And watch TV?”

“Yep.”

“I dunno,” Mr. Hecht said. “Maybe I’d be better off watching the washing machine. Not much worth it on television. Only that reality stuff, what do they call it?”

“Reality shows, I think.”

“Why’d I want to watch those?” Mr. Hecht asked. “I got enough reality as it is.”

You and me both, Sir, Mac thought. More than enough.

3:33 p.m.

Ted did one more crunch. His stomach was burning, but he felt no pain.

He was too busy thinking of her.

Resting now, in his apartment with the water-stained ceiling, Ted did his confidence-building exercises.

The book had said you have to self-talk it into being. That was the start.

You can be anything you think you are, if you say it to yourself and give yourself enough feeling.

The subconscious, the book said, can’t distinguish between a real event and an imaginary one that is vividly imagined.

So even though he was alone in an apartment in a lousy neighborhood, sweating through his T-shirt, for a moment Ted was on the prow of a ship, the woman of his dreams under his arm.

The woman. The only one he wanted.

“I am confident,” Ted said.

Wednesday

11:10 a.m.

Rocky stood apart from the small crowd starting to gather at the grave site. They were at a far corner of the cemetery. It ended at chain-link fence. On the other side of the fence were the dry brush and rocks of Pack Canyon.

The cemetery was a carpet of green grass dotted with markers. The sky was more forbidding than yesterday. Cloudy and cold.

She turned her back on the mourners and looked at the marker at her feet. A woman’s name,
Erin Gerber
. With the dates 1984 – 2001.

Beloved daughter
, the marker read.
She gave laughter and joy and
memories forever.

Seventeen years old. What memories was that enough time for? No one should die at seventeen.

Rocky had time for memories, and they flooded her head. Memories of the two girls from her high school who died on prom night. Drinking with their boyfriends in the back of a van. Making out one moment, smashed to death the next.

One of them, Billie Harper, was a secret friend. Secret because she was on the “A List” and couldn’t be seen consorting with an outsider like Rocky. But she did go out of her way to be nice in English Lit, where they found out they both hated George Eliot and loved Jane Austen.

Billie, who was going to be one of the golden ones. Her life literally came to a crashing and sudden end.