Deceived (21 page)

A prospect she dreaded.

It was an odd feeling. Shopping for one. No longer needing to think of what Arty liked. No more Doritos and salsa. No more Hormel chili. Frosted Mini-Wheats? Good-bye.

Yet wheeling down the breakfast aisle, she found herself stopping in front of the cereal boxes. Why? It was almost as if she’d been halted by an invisible wall. The cereal boxes themselves seemed, for a moment, to have voices. Making an eerie music from miles away.

She told herself not to go crazy. Not now, not ever.
Get out.

“Mrs. Towne?”

She almost yelped. She turned and faced a man. He was smiling at her.

“I thought I recognized you,” the man said. “I’m Bill Olson from church.” He was a bit under six feet tall, mid-forties. He wore a casual blue pullover sweater and khaki slacks. Sharp but not pretentious.

“Oh,” Liz said, “then we must have met on Sunday.”

“There were a lot of people around,” Bill said. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you. I just wanted to say how much I thought of your husband.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope you won’t hesitate to call on any of us if you need anything.”

“I’m doing fine for now, but thank you again. Everyone has been so nice.”

“That’s what a church is all about. We’re a little community within the community. We look out for each other.”

“That’s a great comfort to me.”

“Listen,” Bill said, “I wanted to drop off some firewood that’s been in my truck a couple of weeks. I was going to give it to the church, but I think maybe you can use it.”

“Firewood?”

“It would mean a great deal to me, for Arty’s sake, if I dropped it off.”

“You don’t have to — ”

“I know. But I think you’ll see that receiving gifts at this time will help your healing process.”

She didn’t want any more interaction with the people from church than necessary. Then again, a little bit was good. They had to see that she was open to their help.

“All right,” she said. “That would be very nice. I’ll be home in about twenty minutes.”

“I’ll wait,” Bill said, “and follow you.”

Half an hour later, Liz pulled into the driveway. Bill helped her in with the grocery bags. She put them on the counter in the kitchen. Then she offered him a soft drink. That was a good, churchy thing to do.

“No thanks,” Bill said. “I’ll just unload the firewood. Where do you want it? On the side of the house?”

“Yes, there’s a small bin there.”

“Sure,” he said. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yes?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He used his thumb on it. A curved, shiny knife blade appeared.

“I think you have something that belongs to me,” he said.

10:05 a.m.

As Mac worked on Clyde Dean’s garage door opener —
I can’t get my
car out! I need to get to the bank!
— he prayed. Prayer and work. It was a good combination.

Pastor Jon had told him about a man named Brother Lawrence. He was an obscure monk way back in time. Worked in a kitchen. But he had this idea about practicing the presence of God. Sort of like he was your partner on patrol in a battlefield.

A good idea, but hard. Mac kept wanting to do it, and he’d start off well. But then other thoughts would start crashing around in his head.

But now was the time. He’d manually opened the garage door for Mr. Dean, who happily backed out his huge, vintage Cadillac with a relieved grin.

Now it was just Mac alone with the chain of the garage-door opener and God.

He decided to pray out loud this time. Maybe that would make a difference.

“Okay, God. Here it is. I want to be able to see my daughter. Is that so wrong?”

He paused, waiting for a voice from heaven.

Nothing.

“Sorry, God, I guess I’m a little anxious here. Don’t mind me.”

Wait a minute. Wasn’t God in the minding business? Wasn’t that the whole point of prayer?

“Just make it your will, God. Your will be done. I’m all for that. From now on. No. Wait. Wait, I’ve got it. Something for me. Can you get Slezak off my back? Can you have him reassigned or something? I’m not asking for a car accident or anything. I’m not asking for him to go off a cliff. Of course, if it’s your will. No. Wait. I’m sorry. Sorry I said that. You have the way. You can do it.”

He tightened a nut with a socket wrench.

10:09 a.m.

“Please,” Liz said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man who called himself Bill sighed. He was standing in front of her after ordering her to sit on the sofa. He twirled the knife casually in his right hand.

“Stop it,” he said.

“Please — ”

“Do you think I’d be here if I didn’t know exactly what I was doing?” His voice was soft, each word spoken precisely.

Liz turned on a small trail of tears. She sniffed.

“You don’t have to do that,” Bill said almost comfortingly. “I also find it a little annoying, and I would rather not be annoyed at present.”

Instinct told her to scale back. Only a little.

“Now understand this,” Bill said. “You don’t ever have to see me again. All I want is what’s mine, and you can just hand it over to me. It will be that simple and that quick, and then I’ll be on my way.”

He smiled. He had crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Liz said, “Honest, I don’t know what you mean — ”

“You’ll have to try another — ”

“Dear God, please!”

Bill held up the knife as a teacher might hold up a ruler. “Do not interrupt me again.”

Liz decided she’d better be quiet. For now.

Bill’s mouth twitched once before he spoke. “The facts are these: Your husband died in an accident, if it was an accident, not very far from where a colleague of mine died in an accident, if it was an accident. In his case, it was. He was careless that way. But what he was carrying with him is gone. Just gone. Some items of interest and value. ”

She tried to keep her face looking innocent as she shook her head.

“So,” he said, “let’s see where we are. Either you know what I’m talking about, or you don’t. I think you do. You give me what belongs to me, and I’ll go away. We’ll just forget this whole thing happened. On the other hand, you may be telling me the truth. I doubt it, but there you go.”

“Please — ”

“Quit saying
please
.”

She looked at his close-set eyes. Sized him up, the way she would Mama’s clients back home when they came in the shop.

There was a time to listen and a time to speak. A time to turn things around. Now was that time.

“I know what you want,” she said.

He looked surprised. And then satisfied. “And what would that be?” he said.

“Why don’t you sit down,” she said.

“Why — ”

She said, “Sit down and shut up.”

He hesitated. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to hit her. She braced for it. But something stopped him.

She knew that something was her. She had him.

“You want those rocks, right?” she said.

“Well now, that’s exactly — ”

“Then do what I tell you and sit. Now.”

He paused, smiled, then lowered himself into a chair. “Okay then, ladybug, I’m listening.”

“I’ll tell you how it’s going to be. First, you tell me how you got such a nice stash.”

“I don’t see as I have to tell you anything.”

Liz said, “You will tell me because that’s the only way you’re going to ever get anything. Don’t bother to pose. Don’t bother to threaten me. You could kill me, sure, but you would never find the diamonds and whatever else is in those sacks. You would never find them because I’ve hidden them, and nobody is ever going to find them except me. So don’t be trying any intimidation, because I’m not going to take it.”

She waited for him to respond. He just looked at her. He blinked a couple of times. “That was very good,” he said. “I see that you think you are the smart one here. You know what? I like you. I almost want to ask where you’ve been all my life.”

“Listen, you can have some of the stones.”

“Some
of them?”

“Or none of them. You choose.”

He smiled again. “I really do like you.”

“Yes or no?”

“And what if I say yes? How are we going to handle our little transaction?”

“We’ll handle it the way I say we will.”

He shook his head. “Ah, you know, I think you’re going to try to cheat me. I think I’m not happy about this at all.”

“I don’t really care what you think or what you’re happy about,” Liz said. “That’s the way it is.”

“What if I just beat it out of you? Not that I’d take pleasure in that, but I can inflict a lot of pain. I’ve learned how. You’d be surprised what I’ve learned.”

No doubt, she thought. “It won’t work on me,” she said.

He got to his feet. “Here I thought you were supposed to be this nice churchgoing girl, and what do I find?”

“The wrong woman.”

“The woman of my dreams,” he said. “Great possibilities.”

Liz said nothing.

“Yes,” Bill said. “Your grieving widow act is superb.”

“That’s enough now.”

He paced a semicircle around her, nodding. “Don’t think that’s a bad thing, sweets. No, I admire that. I wonder what we could do together.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Hear me out,” he said. “You want to hear me out? You want to know how to get a lot more money than you ever dreamed of?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Why don’t you sit back and relax,” Bill said. “I’ll lay the whole thing out for you. You are going to like what I have to say. And if you don’t, we call it quits. How’s that for fair?”

10:15 a.m.

Instead of heading back to her apartment — that was going to be a real pain, dealing with the lease, because Boyd was
on
the lease, and she didn’t need any more pain right now, thank you very much — Rocky drove to Pack Canyon.

She wanted to see where Arty died. Investigation, that’s what she did. She wanted to start at the scene.

Who knew what she’d find?

The little voice was prompting her. She had to do something.

She took the highway and got off at Pack Canyon Road. It wound down through the hills, through the little strip of town, past the white church Arty was part of.

She wondered if Mac was there. She wondered why she wondered.

Then there was the street you turned on to go to Arty’s house. What was once Arty’s house. Now it was Liz’s house.

Rocky felt cold just driving by.

A mile or so later she saw the sign for the turn into Pack Canyon Park. The small lot held a couple of cars, including a sheriff’s cruiser.

She parked, got out, and started walking. At least she was ready for a hike. She had jeans and Nikes and a sweatshirt, courtesy of Geena.

There was a brown sign with white lettering and two arrows pointing in opposite directions. Trail One and Trail Two. Not very original but it got the job done.

So which one? She wanted to walk along where Arty had fallen but wasn’t sure which way to go.

Where was Dorothy’s scarecrow when you needed him?
Some people
do go both ways.

Thanks
,
straw man.

Life was luck, bad or good, so she decided on the right-hand path. Fifty-fifty chance.

She started walking.

She remembered how Arty liked the outdoors. Always had. She was the indoor type, and the darker the lighting the better. Maybe that was the difference between them, and when you were an outside person you found God somewhere.

She looked at the sky and the clouds and found nothing.

She walked on.

She wasn’t sure where Arty had fallen, except what Mac had told her. He said the place was where Arty took him once on a hike. A place with a killer view — Mac had caught himself when he said that — that seemed on top of the world. As much as you could be on top of the world in the westernmost part of LA County.

She kept walking, expecting to see other hikers, but saw none. It was ten minutes uphill before a dirt biker pedaled by. He wore tight little bike pants and waved at her. He was coming on fast, with downhill speed.

She stepped aside and he whizzed by, not even looking at her. If he crashes, she thought, it won’t be a pretty sight.

She kept going, up and up. She came around a bend and saw a deputy sheriff standing on the trail. Wearing sunglasses, arms folded across his chest.

He looked at her as she approached.

“This must be the place,” she said.

“I’m sorry?” the deputy said. He was young and in good shape. He could have been on a recruiting poster.

“The scene of the accident, as they say.”

“Is there something you want, ma’am?”

“May I see it?” she said.

“See what?”

“The scene.”

“There’s an investigator there now, so I’m afraid not.”

“I’m the sister of the man who died.”

He looked at her. At least his shades were pointed her way. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “If you were to come back later, around — ”

“Never mind.”

“If you’d like to give me your — ”

“No thanks.”

She walked past him, on up the trail. She had no intention of waiting for anything. This was a big wide area and the deputy couldn’t watch it all.

As soon as she couldn’t see him anymore, she stopped and assessed. If she went off the path to the left, she could circle back around to where Arty had fallen, but from the other side. That wouldn’t do much good, because as soon as they saw her they’d move in.

Or maybe she could find a place to watch. Then get closer and . . . do what? What was she intending on doing?

She stepped off the path and started down.

10:46 a.m.

“In short,” Bill said, “I’m keeping you out of a long stretch in prison and offering you the chance to make money and live free.”

“Yes?” Liz said.

“Your first problem will be having to act in a way that doesn’t arouse the suspicion that the cops already must have.”

“So?”

“You think you can do it. You’re a pretty confident woman. But sooner or later it’s going to catch up. That’s why you need a partner.”