Hoarded to Death (A Jamie Brodie Mystery) (20 page)

I thought about what I really knew about Kendall, and realized it wasn't much. We'd talked a lot at alumni gatherings, and I'd been to his shop a handful of times, but I didn't really know anything about him except superficial information. Kevin and Jon would be able to find out a lot more background information than I could.

It was hard to imagine that Kendall would have killed two people. And how would he have known Wally? I could guess what the motive was, though.

Money.

I was bleary-eyed the rest of the day, feeling like my brain was stuffed full of cotton. I didn't get much done. At 3:00, as promised, Jon came to the reference desk. He had a few private words with Liz while I was talking to the guys who were taking over at reference for a minute. Then Jon, Liz, and I went upstairs. We split at the door to my office. Jon said to Liz, "I'll see you in a bit," and followed me into my office.

I closed the door behind us. "Just in case."

"Good idea." Jon sat in one of the visitor's chair and rubbed his eyes. "Kevin took Paulo to the bus station. The kid says he's going back to Nevada."

"That's where he's from?"

"Yeah. Pahrump. His father kicked him out last summer when Paulo told his parents he was gay. But he has a sympathetic aunt living there, and she said he could come and stay with her. He needs to finish high school. So we bought him a bus ticket."

"He'll have to come back to testify."

"Yeah. He said he would. But he had absolutely no place to go here, and he's too old for the youth shelters now. So I plan to check in on him every so often. Anyway. Tell me about Kendall McEwen."

I handed him the pages I'd printed out earlier. "I don't really know him in depth. The reason I know him at all is that he was also a Rhodes Scholar. I didn't know him at Oxford, but I met him here at an alumni association get-together. We struck up a conversation about surfing and got to be friendly. But I really only see him about once a year, when the Oxford group has a big meeting."

Jon sat up a little straighter. "I didn't know you were a Rhodes scholar."

"Yep."

"I mean, I'd seen that diploma-" He pointed at my Oxford diploma on the wall- "but I didn't know how you got it. Did you play a sport?"

"Rugby."

"No shit." He looked at me with renewed respect. "I'll tell Belardo. He thinks he's hot shit because he played semi-pro soccer for a couple of years. Rugby is soccer on steroids."

I laughed. "Damn straight. So anyway, unfortunately, I don't know how much help I can be about Kendall."

"I did some investigating too - I can't get his financial records yet, but I talked to a couple of the booksellers we visited in December. There are rumors that McEwen is near bankruptcy. Which would provide a pretty strong motive."

I nodded. "I figured it had to be about money, considering what Paulo overheard."

"Yeah. But, you know, theoretically Paulo could have heard some other Australian. He doesn't know McEwen's voice. It could have been any Australian male. So we can't get any kind of a warrant at all yet."

“Didn’t Brashier have security cameras?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t hooked up.”

"So you have to just go talk to Kendall?"

"Yep. Ask him a few questions, see if he'll come up with an alibi for yesterday, see if he has an alibi for the shooting at Jennifer’s apartment, see if he admits to owning a gun. I thought maybe if you came along, it might open him up a little bit."

"Hmm. I don't know about that. But I don't mind coming with you."

"Okay, good. We'll have to do it tomorrow afternoon. Kevin’s got court in the morning, so he’ll meet us there. What if I pick you up here at about 12:45?"

I checked my calendar. "I’ll have to switch my reference shift, but yeah, that'll work."

"Okay, good." Jon stood up. “Oh, by the way. Paulo admitted to telling his friend, the delightful young lady we met the other night, that the university was looking for a page from a medieval Bible, and giving them your phone number. He said he didn’t have anything to do with the setup, though.”

“Do you believe him?”

Jon shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. I told him I’d drop that matter in exchange for his testimony, and he agreed.”

We said our goodbyes, and Jon headed for Liz's office. I finished up a few things at my desk and shut down for the day. I got home a little early. Pete was in the kitchen, just starting to gather ingredients for fish tacos, so I told him about the developments as he did.

By the time I'd finished, the tacos were ready. Pete put our plates on the table and we sat. I dug in. "Mmm, so good."

"Thank you." Pete ate for a minute. "Jon's right, it could be some other Australian guy. There are probably several thousand Australians in LA."

"Sure, it could be. But I doubt it, don't you?"

"Yeah. You know, when we were at his shop that day, I had a look around while he was examining the copy of the torn page. It didn't look like a lot of inventory had been moving recently."

"How could you tell?"

"The dust on the shelves. Nothing had been moved for a couple of weeks, I'd guess."

"So maybe he is having financial problems. Although, in that business, one big sale can probably keep you going for a while."

"True. But if you've grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, it's hard to economize when times get tough. Especially if he's got lovely ladies to impress."

"Yeah. I bet the lovely ladies in this town are hard to impress."

Pete laughed. "Yeah, I'd guess so."

We both had some work to do, then we watched a little TV. I was yawning my head off by 9:00. Pete dragged me to bed and I fell in.

Our sex life had suffered since Christmas. We were still practicing our “other skills,” but the frequency of our practice had dropped from four or five times a week to about two. I was hesitant to initiate anything, and Pete didn’t seem to be in the mood very often. But tonight he was, and pretty soon he had me stirred up too. Everything was fine until he rolled me over on my back.
Oh yay, the missionary position again
. The thought flashed through my head so fast that I barely recognized it; most of my attention was focused on my dick. But I must have twitched, or made a face, or something, because Pete raised up on his arms and said, "What?"

"What,
what?
Nothing."

He gave me a look, but I reached down and took hold of
his
dick, and pretty soon he forgot about "what."

Afterward, Pete fell asleep almost immediately, with his head on my chest. I went to sleep pretty quickly too, but I had one last thought before I did.

This therapy had better work.

The next day, Jon called at 12:30. “I’m running about 15 minutes late. Is that a problem?”

“Nope. Call me when you get here.”

At 1:00, Kevin texted me. “On my way. Tell Eckhoff ballistics from Brashier match Wallace and Lindsey.” Jon called again at 1:10. “I’m outside.” I went out and got in the car; he was driving an unmarked LAPD car today. “Sorry I’m late. Got hung up in a meeting with the lieutenant.”

“No problem.” I gave him Kevin’s message. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I figure we’ll go easy. Tell him about Brashier, tell him we’re looking at all of Brashier’s business associates, and ask him for an alibi. If he gives us one, we say thank you and call it a day. I’ll check it out, and if it doesn’t pan out, Kevin and his partner can go back and ask him nicely to come in for a lineup. If he refuses, they’ll take him in for questioning.”

I nodded. “Sounds easy enough.”

Famous last words.

We were at a stoplight on San Vicente when Jon’s radio came to life. “All units, shots fired.” She rattled off an address that sounded very familiar. “Customer being held at gunpoint. Suspect believed to be the business owner. Suspect armed and dangerous. SWAT responding.”

I looked at Jon in horror at the same time he looked at me. “That’s Kendall’s shop.”

“
Shit!
” Jon hit the lights and siren and pulled out into the next lane over. He eased through the red light and we started flying. When we got near Kendall’s address, the patrol cars already had the area blocked off. Jon slammed the car into park, checked his weapon, and got out. “Stay here.”

“Yes, sir.” I had no intention of getting any closer to whatever was happening down the block. I could see a cop with a bullhorn and heard the sound but couldn’t distinguish his words. In another minute, the SWAT van pulled up behind Jon’s car, and the SWAT team piled out and scrambled into position. I could see Jon, talking to one of the cops that was standing back a bit from the others. Eventually, Jon started back toward me. He opened the door and leaned in. “It’s Kendall with the gun, all right. A customer walked in and found him holding a gun on a woman. When the customer saw him, Kendall shot at the customer and missed, then grabbed the woman and put the gun to her head. The customer bolted and called 911.”

“Whoa.” I was stunned. In spite of what Paulo had said, I still hadn’t completely believed that Kendall had anything to do with the murders. “So it’s not looking good for Kendall.”

“No. The question is, who’s this customer that he’s holding a gun on?”

“
Another
accomplice?”

“Don’t know. We may not find out until this is resolved, and that might take a while. He’s refusing to come out. Can Pete come pick you up?”

“Yeah, probably. I’ll text him.” I sent the text – “Call me asap” – then peered out the windshield again. There seemed to be some action near the front of the store. Jon still had his door open, and I could hear the bullhorn voice clearly now. “Kendall McEwen. Let the woman go. Drop your weapon and come out. We can resolve this peacefully. No one has to get hurt.”

No response.

Another fifteen minutes passed. There was no sign of Kevin. I thought he might be at the other end of the block, or maybe he hadn’t gotten here yet. The guy with the bullhorn kept telling Kendall to come out, to no avail. I saw a SWAT cop with a riot gun position himself behind a squad car. Jon leaned into the car again. “They’re going to tear gas him.”

The cop shot the canister through the window. After a couple of seconds, the door to the shop flew open, and Kendall emerged, coughing. “Back off!” He was holding the gun to the head of the hostage, and using her as a shield. I got a good look at the hostage.

It was Jennifer.

I bolted upright. “
Shit!
Jon, that’s…”

“I see her. Stay put.” Jon closed the door and ducked down to scurry back to the cop he’d been talking to earlier. He said something quickly to the cop, who passed it on to someone else, who apparently passed it on to the guy with the bullhorn. “McEwen. Release Ms. Graham and drop your weapon.”

“No!” Kendall must have squeezed Jennifer tighter because she yelped. “All you mob, back off! This bitch has cost me a lot of money. I don’t give a rat’s arse what happens to her.”

Oh, God. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Once this was over, if anyone ever spoke the name Jennifer Graham to me again, I was going to run the other way. I hoped Kevin wasn’t in sight.

Kendall started inching away from the door of his shop, down the street, staying pressed against the walls and windows of the businesses he was passing, keeping Jennifer firmly in place in front

of him. Fortunately he was moving in the opposite direction from where Jon had parked. My cell phone rang, and I jumped so high I nearly hit my head on the ceiling of the car. It was Pete. “Hey, what’s up?”

“We’re at Kendall’s shop and he’s holding Jennifer hostage at gunpoint. SWAT is here, and Jon thinks I should probably get away from the scene. But we came in his car.”

“Wait,
what?
Kendall is holding
Jennifer?
At
gunpoint?
What the
fuck??
”

“I know. Do you have another class or office hours or something?” I knew Pete’s schedule, but I couldn’t call it to mind right now to save my life.

“No, I’m done for the day. I’ll come get you. How close are you to the shop?”

“About a block. We’re right outside the police blockade.”

“Okay. Sit tight, I’ll be there in a few.” He hung up. He’d have to walk home to get the car, but then it wouldn’t take him long. The shop wasn’t all that far from the Santa Monica city limits.

I slouched down in my seat a little, but not so far that I couldn’t see the street clearly. As I watched, Kendall came to the corner of the block. As he started to ease around the corner, things started happening fast. I couldn't tell for sure from a block away, but it looked like Jennifer might have stomped on Kendall's instep. At the same time, a SWAT guy yelled something at Kendall. Kendall howled. His grip on Jennifer loosened, and she ran back toward the shop. Kendall swung his gun around in the direction of the SWAT guy, and the SWAT cop fired. He hit Kendall in the shoulder, and Kendall went down. About four guys were immediately on him. Another couple of guys grabbed Jennifer and hustled her away. The cops had Kendall on the ground, restraining him, and he was yelling and thrashing. They finally got him restrained enough that the paramedics could come in and start treatment on his shoulder.

I sagged back into the seat cushions in relief. I saw Jon say something to the cop he'd been talking to, then he walked back to the car and leaned in. "Jennifer's kind of hysterical. I need to question her, but she's gotta calm down first. Think you can talk to her?"

Fuck
. "I'll try." I got out of the car and found that my legs were a little shaky. Adrenalin, I guess. Another ambulance crew on our end of the block, just outside the police barricade, was attending to Jennifer as she sat on the bumper of their truck. She was crying, like Jon had said, hysterically. As I walked toward her, I saw Pete pull up and get out of his Jeep. He headed toward Jennifer too, and we got there about the same time.

Jennifer looked up at me. "Jamie-" She stopped and gulped. "What are you doing here?"

"I was coming with Detective Eckhoff to talk to Kendall. What the
fuck
are you
doing
here?"