It's Not a Pretty Sight (16 page)

“What
about
me?”

“Nina ever tell you why she wasn’t talking to Trini?”

“She never ‘told’ me, no.”

That was all she said.

“But?”

“But I’ve got an idea.”

Gunner waited for her to explain.

“Trini went through some of Nina’s stuff. And Nina didn’t appreciate it,” Causwell said.

“She went through some of Nina’s stuff? What, here at the House?”

“I guess so. Where else?”

“Why would Trini do something like that?”

Causwell shook her head. “I don’t know. Go ask Trini.”

“How is it you know about this? If Nina never told you what her argument with Trini was about—”

“I heard them talking about it once. Trini was trying to apologize, and Nina was trying to act like she wasn’t there.”

“When was this?”

“Like Angela said. About a week before Nina left. Something like that.”

“Where were they that you happened to hear the conversation?”

“I didn’t hear the conversation. I just heard the tail end of it.”

“Okay. So where were they?”

“They were down in the laundry room. I went down there to do some clothes and found them there, talking. They left as soon as I came in.”

“Do you remember what specifically was said?”

“No. I just remember what I told you.”

“That Trini seemed to be apologizing for having gone through some of Nina’s things.”

“Yes.”

“But you never heard why.”

“Why she’d done it? No. I didn’t.”

“You ever ask Nina about it later?”

“It wasn’t any of my business. If she’d wanted me to know about it, she would have told me.”

“And she didn’t tell you.”

“No. She didn’t.”

Gunner turned back to Glass, who had suddenly taken up Causwell’s former role as the silent observer. “I get the feeling you’re hearing all this for the first time yourself,” he said.

“I am.” Another shrug.

“So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“About what she just said. This business about Trini fooling around with Nina’s things.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what to think about it. Nina couldn’t’ve had nothin’ Trini would’ve wanted to steal.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No. Like what?”

“I never said she was trying to ‘steal’ anything,” Causwell said, correcting her.

Both Gunner and Glass turned around, expecting her to explain the distinction.

“I said she was going through Nina’s stuff. That’s all. She could have just been trying to
borrow
something, or take something back from Nina that Nina had borrowed from
her.
Something like that. She didn’t have to be trying to steal anything.”

“Except that Nina’s reaction would seem to suggest that she was,” Gunner said.

“Why? Because she got mad? Hell, I’d get mad too, I found somebody going through my things without my permission. I wouldn’t care why they said they were doing it.”

“Same here,” Glass said.

“That sort of thing happen around here often?” Gunner asked. “People getting into other people’s things, I mean?”

“Often? No, it don’t happen often. But—”

“Hey, look, this has been a lot of fun,” Causwell said, cutting in, “but enough is enough. I don’t want to answer any more questions, I’m sorry.”

Gunner looked at her, not quite knowing what to make of her sudden need to stop talking to him. “You don’t?” he asked.

“No. I don’t. You asked us to talk to you, and we talked to you. Now I’m tired. I want to go back to my room.”

The investigator shrugged, pretending not to care, and said, “Okay. Whatever you say.” He started fingering through his notes, taking his good sweet time about it. “If you’d just let me ask you one more question before you leave …”

“What?”

Gunner flipped over another page in his book, said, “Here it is. I wanted to ask you about Nina’s work in the field:”

“What about it?”

“I was wondering if she ever talked to either one of you about any bad experiences she may have had. Any run-ins with angry husbands or boyfriends, that sort of thing.”

Causwell sighed heavily and shook her head. “Not that I recall.”

Gunner looked at Glass.

“She had a girl pull a gun on her once. Is that what you mean?”

“What girl was this?”

“I don’t remember her name. It was somebody who left right after I got here. She was just a kid.”

“A kid?”

“Yeah. You know, a youngster. Nina said she was still in her teens. She called the House once after she went home, and Wendy sent Nina out to help her. Her boyfriend had taken her car and left her stranded somewhere, I think. It was something like that. Anyway, when Nina got there, the boy-friend was back and the girl was gettin’ in the car with ’im. When Nina tried to stop her, the girl pulled a gun on her, Nina said.”

“A gun?”

“Yeah. She didn’t shoot at anybody, though. Nina said the, girl just showed it to her to make her back off.”

“And Nina did.”

“Of course. She wasn’t crazy.”

“Did Ms. Singer know about any of this?”

“Wendy? I don’t know. She probably did, I guess.”

When Gunner started to turn toward Causwell, she said, “No. I didn’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t remember this girl’s name either.”

“No. Sorry.”

She wasn’t sorry at all.

“It was somethin’ that started with a V, I think,” Glass said. “Vicky, or Valerie … Somethin’ like that.”

Gunner wrote the two names down in his book.

“Aren’t you going to ask us where were we last Tuesday night?” Causwell asked.

Gunner looked up, smiling. “As a matter of fact, I was. Yes. Where were you?”

“Last Tuesday night?” Glass asked. Then, catching on: “Oh.”

Causwell looked at her disdainfully and said, “That’s right, Angela. The nice detective wants to know where we were when Nina died. Would you like to start, or should I?”

When Glass didn’t say anything, Causwell turned to face Gunner again and said, “I was here at the house. Watching TV and reading, up in my room. I was here all night.”

Gunner turned his gaze on Glass. “And you?”

“I was out,” she said. Trying to get her own smile back, but missing the mark considerably.

“Out where? For how long?”

“I was at the library.” She shrugged. “I was there three, maybe four hours. Tops.”

“Which library was this?”

“The one over on Vermont. Near the Coliseum. I like to hang out there sometimes.”

“Were you alone?”

“Yeah. I was alone.”

“Did you check anything out?”

“You mean a book?”

“A book, a record, a tape … Anything you would’ve had to take up to the counter.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t check anything out that night.”

Gunner nodded his head, like everything she was saying made perfect sense.

“And you got back here around what time? Do you remember?”

She shrugged again. “Ten-thirty, eleven. Somethin’ like that.”

“The library’s open that late Tuesday nights?”

“No. But I had somethin’ to eat after.”

“Ah.” He nodded again, careful to keep his eyes on her the whole time. Then he stood up and put his notebook away.

“Thanks for the help, ladies. You’ve been very kind,” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” Causwell said.

Happier to see him go than she had any right to be.

He dropped in on Wendy Singer for a brief minute before leaving. She had to shoo a middle-aged redhead with a black eye and an ankle cast out of her office to make room for him, but she seemed only mildly annoyed to be seeing him again so soon. He had to wonder if that wasn’t because she had been expecting to do so, all along.

“That would have been Virgie Olivera,” she said, after Gunner had repeated the story Angela Glass told him about the runaway Sister who had once pulled a gun on Nina. No moment of pause or hesitation to mull the story over, just
boom
, Virgie Olivera, like the name had been rolling around in her head all day, just waiting to get out.

“You remember the incident?” Gunner asked her, acting as if he was surprised to hear it.

“All but the part about the gun. Yes,” Singer said.

“Nina didn’t tell you about the gun?”

“No. Apparently, she didn’t.”

“Well. That would explain it, then, wouldn’t it?”

“Pardon me?”

“I was wondering why you didn’t mention it before. When I asked you if Nina had ever been threatened by anyone while working out in the field.” He paused to watch Singer’s eyes, then said, “But if you didn’t
know
…”

“I didn’t,” Singer said sharply.

Again, the black man paused to study her face before saying another word. “Would you know where I could find Ms. Olivera now?” he asked finally.

“Now? No. That was the last time any of us saw or heard from Virgie, to my knowledge. She might be at the same address she was then, but I doubt it. Virgie liked to move around a lot.”

“I see.”

“Again, Ginger will be happy to give you her address if you want it. But you might be wise to hear one word of warning first.”

“And that is?”

“I don’t think the gun was Virgie’s. If she indeed had one that day, it was probably her boyfriend’s. He’s got lots of them.”

“He’s like that, huh?”

“Yes. He’s like that.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ricky something is all I can remember offhand. His last name’s in her file, Ginger can get that for you. He’s in the Mexican Mafia. Very bad news.”

“And Virgie? She bad news too?”

“I’d be lying to you if I said she wasn’t.”

“Then this incident with the gun—”

“Doesn’t completely surprise me, no. She was a violent young woman, Virgie. Very angry and very emotional. We tried to help her overcome that, but …”

“She ever pull a gun on anyone here before?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But she did get into a fight or two.”

“One or two. Yes. But none with Nina, if that was going to be your next question. They got along, those two. They weren’t friends, by any means, but they got along. Which is more than I can say about Virgie and anyone else who was staying here at the time. I would never have sent Nina out after her alone otherwise.”

“But if they got along—”

“Why the gun? That’s easy. Because the boyfriend put her up to it. What else?”

“You sound pretty sure about that,” Gunner said.

“I know the nature of the beast. Like most abused women, Mr. Gunner, Virgie was a different person around her abuser. She was a violent person under the best of circumstances, as I’ve already stated, but under his influence, she was capable of almost anything. Nina was probably lucky to get out of that situation alive. No doubt that’s why she never told me all there was to tell about it.”

“Like her fight with Agnes Felker, you mean?”

“What fight is that?”

“The one that ended with Nina slapping the hell out of her. At dinner.”

Singer didn’t say anything.

“Or was that something else you were never told about?”

“I knew about that, of course,” Singer said.

“Then why didn’t you mention it to me earlier? When I asked you if—”

“I was under the impression you were looking for someone who could have held a grudge against Nina, and then killed her over it, Mr. Gunner. Isn’t that right?”

“More or less,” Gunner said. “But—”

“I don’t believe Agnes fits that description. She may indeed have held a grudge against Nina, but she certainly didn’t kill her.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s harmless. I told you that. She’s fifty-seven years old and stands five foot one in her stockinged feet. She’s a foulmouthed old woman with a king-sized chip on her shoulder. That’s all.”

She waited for Gunner to argue the point, but all he did was stare back at her.

“Again, I’d like to thank you for your assistance with Mr. Cagle earlier. You may very well have saved that man’s life. But if there’s nothing more I can do for you …” She stood away from her desk so that he’d know he was being dismissed.

Gunner said thanks and left.

ten

“Y
OU GOTTA GET YOURSELF A BEEPER
,” M
ICKEY SAID
. “Or a cellular phone.”

“I don’t think so,” Gunner told him.

“Man, I been tryin’ to get ahold of you all afternoon! You had a beeper, I could just page your ass once an’ forget about it, ’stead’a callin’ all over town
lookin’
for you.”

He’d met Gunner at the door of the shop and kept right on walking behind him to Gunner’s office in the back, like a stray dog the investigator had foolishly petted and now could not get rid of.

“I am not getting a beeper,” Gunner said, turning the lamp on on his desk as he threw himself into the chair behind it, exhausted. “End of subject.”

“Man, how are you gonna stay in business today, you don’t have a beeper or a cellular phone?”

“How are
you
going to stay in business, you don’t go back in there where the chairs are and cut somebody’s hair?”

“You see somebody in there waitin’ to get their hair cut? I didn’t.”

“Mickey—”

“I bet your competition’s got a beeper.”