Flipping Out (5 page)

'Hence,
the name,' High said. 'The LA Flippers.'

'But
here's the twist,' Charlie said. 'While the construction was going on, Nora
wrote a book about a murder that takes place in that house. You might think
it's drivel, but the first week
Murder at 2424
Horseshoe Canyon Road
came out, it went straight to the bestseller list. That's when the Flippers put
the house on the market.'

'I'm
guessing it sold rather quickly,' High said.

'Quickly?
There was a bidding frenzy over it. Five buyers wanted to live in the house
that's on the cover. It

sold
for a shitload more than they'd hoped to get.'

'Whatever
your mother-in-law lacks in literary talent, she more than makes up for in
business acumen,' High said. 'That is bloody brilliant.'

'It's
so brilliant that she decided to write a bunch of them. So now she has
The House to Die For
series. A new book and a new house to flip every
year. This time around Nora opened it up to a few of her friends. Terry's wife,
Marilyn, and Jo Drabyak are the two newest partners.'

'Actually,
Marilyn and Jo are more like investors with opinions,' Tony said. 'My wife does
most of the day-to-day work.'

'And
she gets a salary,' Charlie said.

'She
earns it. Wendy makes it sound like our wives are involved in something
crooked.'

'That's
not what I meant,' Wendy said. 'We all know that there are some real sketchy
characters in the contracting business. They cut corners, they bribe
inspectors, they hire illegal immigrants...'

'They
cash your cheque, don't show up to do the work, so I wind up moving in with my
partner,' I said.

'Here's
my point,' Wendy said. 'Some accountant hits on Jo Drabyak, she tells him to
buzz off, and he sends her flowers. What if the same thing happens on the
construction site with some illegal whose wife is still in Mexico? Maybe he
doesn't send roses. Maybe he follows her home and kills her.'

'So
now you're saying some horny Mexican killed her?' Tony smiled and shook his
head. 'Hey, as long as you're projecting what the Mexicans would do, would you
care to hear a point of view from a genuine Mexican'

'Go
ahead,' Kilcullen said.

'Jo
was in charge of publicity for the project,' he said. 'She didn't interact with
the workers. Even if she had, she was a total sweetheart who got along with
everyone. My wife, on the other hand, is a hot-blooded Latina with a short
fuse. She's the line boss. She screams at the crew all day. She insults their
mothers.'

He
smiled. We knew where this was headed.

'What
I'm saying is, if those workers took a poll on who to shoot, Marisol would win
unanimously.'

Nobody
argued the point. We all knew Marisol well enough to realise he was right. We spent
the next half hour tossing around theories. Since we all came from different
disciplines, we all had different ideas of who might want to murder a cop's
wife. Gangs. Organised crime. Rappers. I'm sure if we spitballed long enough,
OJ would have come up as a suspect.

By
seven thirty Terry and I were back on the 101, inching our way toward the
Valley.

'Long
day,' I said.

'It's
not over,' Terry said. 'We have to look into this house-flipping business.
Which means when we get home, I'm gonna have to interrogate my wife.'

Marilyn
and Diana were in the living room, a bottle of wine and two glasses on the
coffee table between them.

I
went over and kissed Diana. Marilyn got up and hugged Terry long and hard.

'There's
no dinner,' she said. Her eyes were red. 'I went to church, and now I'm having
some wine. I'm pretty useless. Do you know who killed her?'

'Not
yet,' Terry said.

'She
was such a wonderful person,' Marilyn said. 'Why? That's all I've been saying
all afternoon. Why?'

It's
a question Terry and I hear a lot in our line of work. We never have an answer.
Usually we just say
sorry for your loss
and stand there quietly until
the emotion subsides. But this was personal. Terry put his arms around her
again and whispered something in her ear.

'Hey,
Dad. Hey, Mike.' It was Emily, Marilyn's and Terry's youngest daughter. Emily
is sixteen, same red hair and green eyes as her mom, only on a smaller frame.
Her older twin sisters had just started college. Sarah had decided to spend a
year at LA City, so she was still living at home. But Rebecca was in St Louis
at Washington U, which opened up a bedroom for me and Diana. As usual, Emily
was being followed by Jett, the black lab my father gave her.

'Hey,
honey,' Terry said, not letting go of Marilyn.

'I
heard about Mrs Drabyak,' Emily said. 'I'm really, really sorry. But I know you
and Mike are going to catch the person who did it.'

'Did
you finish your homework?' Marilyn said, uncoupling from her husband.

'Yes
and no,' Emily said.

'Pick
one,' her mother said.

'Madame
Bouchard is making us write three hundred words describing an important event
in my life, so
yes,
I have the idea for my paper, but
no
, I haven't written it yet,
because I suck at French. And since you and Dad do not
parlez-vous frangais,
I called Carolyn Bennett, and she said she'd help
me out. Can I go over there?'

'I
know French,' Diana said.

That
was an understatement. Diana had lived in Paris for three years. So, yes, she
knew French. But she didn't know the teenage mind. Emily flashed her a look
that said,
Hey, lady, you're screwing up my plans to get out of the
house.

Diana
recovered quickly. 'Of course, it's mostly menu French. Escargot, quiche,
French fries, stuff like that.

And
even then, I really don't know three hundred words.'

'Too
bad,' Emily said, giving her a smile of relief. 'So then, Mom, can I go over to
Carolyn's house? I'll be back by ten.'

'Nine
thirty,' Marilyn said.

'Nine
forty-five.'

'Nine
fifteen,' Marilyn countered.

'OK,
OK, nine thirty,' Emily said. '
Merci beaucoup.'

'What
important event are you writing about?' Terry said.

'The
day Big Jim gave me Jett. Bye.' She turned and headed toward the front door.

'Nine
thirty,' Marilyn yelled after her. 'Not a minute later.'

'
Oui,
Maman
'
Door
slam.

'There's
no dinner,' Marilyn said.

'I
believe you mentioned that.'

'You
want some wine?' She reached for the bottle on the table.

'Why
don't the four of us go out to Mr Cecil's for ribs?' Terry said, removing the bottle
from her hand before she could pour. 'Give the wine a chance to wear off so
Mike and I can ask you a few questions about Jo.'

'I
don't know what I can say to help, but, OK,' Marilyn said. 'Just promise me one
thing. Promise me you'll catch the person who did this.'

Terry
has a voice that is magical. Soft and strong at the same time. It warms you,
comforts you, reassures you. People always tell him he should be on the radio.
His

standard
answer is, 'Well, I sure got the face for it.'

He
put his arms around Marilyn one more time. 'We'll catch him,' he said. 'I
promise you, we'll catch him.' He said it with total conviction, without a hint
of the fact that we were currently clueless.

'You
ready to answer a few questions?' Terry said, after we sat down and ordered
dinner.

'Who's
asking?' Marilyn said.

'Me,
Mike, does it matter?'

She
sat there, hands folded on the table. 'I'd be more comfortable being
interrogated by somebody who's not my husband.'

'Interrogated
? Jesus, Marilyn, it's just a few
simple...' He turned to me. 'Fine, you put her through the wringer. I'll just
sit here and be Bad Cop.'

'How
about you just be Quiet Cop,' she said. 'Go ahead, Mike.'

'How
much time did Jo spend at the flip house you're renovating?'

'Not
much.'

'Did
she have anything to do with the contractors, any of the workers?'

Marilyn
shook her head. 'You think someone on the crew did it? No, they'd rather kill
Marisol.'

'You're
the second person to say that,' I said.

'Well,
it's true. Marisol is on the crew's asses every day. She's a total bitch. Most
of those macho construction guys hate her, but she gets the job done.'

'So
Marisol is there every day,' I said, 'and from what I understand, she gets paid
extra.'

'Right.
Besides her partner share of the profits she gets a project management fee.'

'And
Jo doesn't work with the crew,' I said.

'Jo
and I are like the junior partners. This is our first house with them, so we're
still kind of learning the ropes. We got to sit in on all the meetings with the
architect, and we helped pick out the appliances and the fixtures. I worked
with the landscaper, because I'm good at that, and Jo is coordinating the book
launch party. It's supposed to be tomorrow night, but I spoke to Nora, and
she's putting it off till after the funeral.'

'What
about Julia? What's her role in it?'

'Julia
shows up when she wants to, which is mostly never.'

'Does
that piss the other partners off?'

'Just
Nora. This whole thing started because Nora was looking for something for Julia
to do with her life besides sit at home writing poetry. When she had the idea
for
The House to Die For
series, she bought the first house and set Julia up
to oversee the renovation. But Julia is a poet, a sensitive soul. If some idiot
connects the water heater to the septic system, you're supposed to scream at
the fucker to fix it, not agonise over the nicest way to tell him he made a
mistake. So Nora went out and hired someone who can kick serious ass. Marisol.'

'What
about Jo? Is there anybody you can think of that's involved with the flip house
that had a beef with her? Some guy who maybe had the hots for her, and she told
him to screw off?'

'No.
Nothing like that. A lot of these guys are illegals. There's no way they're
gonna make a move on some white woman whose husband is a cop.'

'They
knew her husband is a cop?' I said.

'Everyone
knows we're married to cops. We make a point of telling them. Plus we usually
make it sound like you guys are trigger-happy psycho coppers like Dirty Harry.'

Quiet
Cop couldn't keep quiet any longer. 'What about the partners?' Terry said. 'Did
they all get along with Jo?'

'No,
Terry. We all got together and decided to kill her. What kind of a stupid
question is that?'

'Hey,'
he said, 'we're down to the stupid questions, because we asked all the smart
ones, and we're still looking for a motive why anyone would want to kill this
woman.'

'Could
we not talk about this anymore?' Marilyn said.

'Fine
with me,' Terry grumbled.

'This
is going to sound dumb,' Diana said, 'but as long as we're down to the stupid
questions, can I ask one?'

'Sure,'
Marilyn said. 'Fire away.'

'These
houses that you renovate, they sell for a lot more than the market value,
because Nora makes them famous. Am I right?' 'Right.'

'And
how does she make them famous? She makes them the scene of some fictional
murder, right?'

'That's
the concept.'

'OK,
here's the dumb question,' Diana said. 'Do you think the price of the house
would go up even higher if there were a real murder connected to it?'

'Wow,'
Marilyn said.

'That's
pretty interesting,' I said. 'I can't wait till you come up with a smart
question.'

'You're
saying that somebody might have wanted to drive the price of the house up, so
they killed someone connected to it,' Terry said.

'I
don't know,' Diana said. 'It's just a weird thought I had.'

'So
maybe this has nothing to do with Jo,' he said. 'They just picked her at
random. They could've killed any one of the...'

I
couldn't stop him, and by the time Terry stopped himself it was too late. The
idea that the victim could have been any of the partners hit Marilyn hard. She
bolted from the table. 'I'm going to be sick,' she said, and ran toward the
ladies room. Diana ran after her.