Relatively Dead (16 page)

Kyle disappeared for a few minutes, and then returned with a small gun and some bullets. He showed me how to load it and unload it, and put the safety on and off, and then he had me go through those procedures until he was satisfied I knew what I was doing. At least he didn’t make me do it blindfolded.

I asked him about getting a permit. He said to go through normal channels would take forever, but not to worry. He’d take care of it. I hoped he was right. As I left he gave me a hug and told me to be careful and keep in touch.

***

My cell phone rang while Rigo and I were cuddling on the bed at my new motel, watching a movie. We weren’t having sex because my poison oak still precluded that. I reached over to the nightstand and glanced at the number. It was Jason’s. Why was he calling me at ten p.m.? That irritated me. I turned off the ringer and set the phone down.

“Who’s that?”

Rigo’s question annoyed me. I told him it was nobody important. An hour earlier when we came to the motel after having dinner together, the first thing Rigo saw was Jason’s T-shirt sitting in my open suitcase, because in my hurry to pack at the cabin I’d thrown it in.

“That’s not my T-shirt.”

“I borrowed it from Jason to sleep in.” I spoke without thinking, and immediately wondered how that sounded since I’d borrowed shirts from Rigo and used them to seduce him. I tried for damage control. “I wore knickers with it.” I hoped he didn’t remember “knickers” was Britspeak for panties, and was picturing something more substantial. Men were so touchy.

He didn’t say anything but was acting cool, so I got him on the bed and tried my best to minimize the incident in his mind by showing him how much I cared for him without exacerbating my poison oak. That was working when the cell phone rang, which is why I didn’t tell him Jason was calling me late at night.

A little while later Rigo left, saying he had to work the next day. I kissed him, watched him walk to his car, and then returned to the room to listen to Jason’s message, still annoyed and irritated by men.

“Hi, Carol. I’m back in Redondo at the same motel. Give me a call tonight if you can, doesn’t matter how late. Otherwise, I’ll speak to you in the morning.” He gave a room number.

It was now past 10:30. I wasn’t about to call him tonight. Why had he returned? I wasn’t curious enough to find out. I watched late-night TV until I got sleepy and then went to bed, not wearing anything.

***

“I wanted to be in on the kill, so to speak. If the scammer turned out to be Jason’s killer, also, I wanted to be here to see it.”

Jason II’s face was animated. He looked like a man with a purpose. I was glad he was there, now that I was with him. I’d called him when I woke, knowing he got up early. He suggested we have breakfast together. We were eating at one of the few restaurants serving breakfast in Los Angeles that wasn’t part of a chain you’d find in every major city in the world and not a few minor ones.

“I liked your breakfast better. I’m glad you came. I’ve got your T-shirt in my car. Anyway, I saw the guy. He came into the store, but something spooked him and he left and disappeared. We couldn’t find him.”

“Would you know him if you saw him again?”

“Only by his hands. He was wearing gloves, apparently to cover his skin condition. Other than that, he was medium height, medium age, a few pounds overweight, wearing a baseball cap and dark glasses and looking like a million other guys here.”

I went into some more detail about the stakeout and search for the scammer. I’d already told Jason the short version on the phone. I wondered why he didn’t call me yesterday before he came all this way. He read my mind.

“I had something else to do here, anyway, so I decided to drive down after I finished some chores in Idyllwild. I’m too impatient a person to just wait around for news.”

“I know what you mean. I’m the same way. Anyhow, he got away clean. I called Officer Watson later. He disappeared into thin air. They couldn’t even trace him on the bus.”

Jason took a sip of coffee. “Since I’m here, perhaps there’s something we can do together. I’d like to have a talk with Marcia, Jason’s fiancée.”

“She didn’t take a liking to me.”

“She and I aren’t exactly lovey dovey, either. I got the impression she tried to keep Jason away from me. She avoided me at the memorial service. I don’t think she wanted me to find out about the syndicate.”

“What do we do, a good cop, bad cop routine? Try to get her to confess to Jason’s murder?”

Jason II laughed, and then became sober. “I’m not very good at playing bad cop, and I bet you’re not, either. No, we’ll both play good cop. We won’t play cops at all. We’re sympathetic friends. We won’t treat her like a suspect, although we’ll certainly try to get information out of her. The fact that we know about the syndicate should give us some leverage. She doesn’t want us blabbing about it to the police.”

“Still, I can’t see either one of us calling her and asking for an appointment. I’ll bet it will be a cold day in Death Valley in July before she’ll agree to see us, voluntarily.”

“I know where she works.” Jason II pulled a business card out of his wallet. “Jason gave it to me.”

“You mean she has a real job?”

“Yes. She works for one of those too-humongous-to-fail financial institutions bailed out by your tax dollars during the recent crisis and recession, making the big bucks because of her MBA.”

“Then why is she involved in the syndicate?”

“Greed. Don’t we all have a touch of it? Anyway, I’ve checked out her building on the Internet. It has parking underneath. We’ll catch her when she walks to her car. She’ll be isolated and vulnerable.”

***

We rode in Jason’s SUV to the Century City building that housed a division of the corporation Marcia Mathewson worked for. It was a struggle in the afternoon traffic of Los Angeles, and I was glad Jason was driving. I’d driven in enough traffic since I’d been here to last me a long time.

A driver behind us honked his horn when Jason hesitated before making a right turn on red. Jason scowled. “It’s easy to risk someone else’s life.”

He drove along Avenue of the Stars, once part of the Twentieth Century Fox movie lot, into the underground parking garage, and took a ticket from the machine. There wasn’t anybody behind us so he stopped, got out, and ran around the glass box housing a cashier to ask him some questions. Then he returned and drove down a ramp to a lower level of the garage.

“The employees park on P1. Visitors park on P2. We know where she’s going to get off the elevator.”

I’d called Marcia’s work number earlier while Jason and I were walking along the beach, and got her voice mail. It stated she was in the office today, and to leave a message. I didn’t leave a message.

Jason II said Jason III told him Marcia was a workaholic and often stayed in the office until six or later—sometimes much later. It was now 5:30. We might have a long wait. On the other hand, we hoped she hadn’t left early. That was the gamble.

We took the elevator up to P1 and got off. We were dressed in casual business attire. I wore the slacks I’d worn at the memorial service. However, we wondered how to remain inconspicuous in this concrete dungeon where humans standing around instead of going to and from their cars would be suspicious.

We camped out near the elevators. When somebody came or went, as soon as we knew it wasn’t Marcia we started walking slowly, pretending we were heading to a car. We guessed the jobs of the people we saw, and how much money they made. When I suggested a man who was dressed shabbily was the superintendent in charge of washing coffee cups we laughed, drawing a look from him.

At 6:15 I was getting hungry. I ate some peanuts I’d placed in my purse and offered Jason some. At 6:30 I was hungrier and tired of standing. Jason was leaning against a car. As he liked to say, standing was much harder than walking. Most of the cars had gone.

“Shall we give up?” I was all for hitting a local eatery.

“Call her and see if she’s still here.”

I couldn’t get a signal on my cell phone. Jason agreed I shouldn’t go outside. He didn’t want us to split up.

“Five more minutes.” Jason sounded tired but determined. “It’s a lot less hassle to wait a little longer than to come back another time.”

True, but I had no intention of coming back. We waited ten more minutes. Eleven, Twelve. We heard the ding of the elevator. I recognized Marcia immediately when she walked out of the elevator. She was dressed in the same no-nonsense style she’d displayed at the party. Not a hair was out of place. She carried an attaché case. She strode swiftly in our direction, car remote in her hand, observing the safety rules for navigating parking lots.

When she recognized us she stopped, looking momentarily flustered. Then antagonistic. “What do you two want?”

Jason took the lead. “We just want to talk to you, Marcia.”

“We’re trying to gather information.” I tried to keep my voice level and non-threatening.

She had her cell phone out in a flash. “I’m calling building security.”

“Your phone won’t work here.” I spoke with the voice of experience.

She quickly realized I was right. She took a look around. Nobody else was on this level. She started walking back toward the elevator.

I played my ace. “I doubt that your company will take kindly to knowing you’re involved in a Ponzi scheme.”

That stopped her. Then Jason spoke in a soothing voice.

“Have dinner with us. We have the same goal I’m sure you do, to find out who killed Jason. We’ll share information.”

We were playing good cop, bad cop, after all. And I was the bad cop.

***

“Your name is no more Aiko than I’m the man in the moon. Who
are
you?”

We were sitting in a booth at an upscale restaurant with low lighting that was supposed to provide the proper ambiance, and which had high prices to make sure we understood how good this place was. Marcia was sitting between Jason and me. Marcia insisted on driving her car, and kept her cell phone handy. She trusted us about as much as she’d trust a hungry great white shark.

I took my British driver’s license in the name of Aiko Murakawa out of my purse and slid it in front of her. “I lived in England before I came here.”

She looked at it, dubiously, and handed it back to me. “What’s your relationship to Jason?”

She didn’t say which Jason. The living Jason answered. “We’re friends. Aiko and my grandson never met. She’s done some detective work before, so I asked for her help.”

She appeared to feel better about the fact that Jason III and I never met. “You think you two can solve the case when the police can’t?”

A waiter came to the table. Marcia ordered an expensive bottle of wine. She must be high maintenance. After the waiter left, Jason answered.

“We don’t know what we can accomplish. I just want to do everything I can to find the murderer.”

Marcia was silent, looking as if the statement were an accusation. “I want to find Jason’s murderer, too. I’m not the kind of person who goes around wailing and gnashing my teeth, but I loved him. It may be hard for you to believe.” A tear shone in her eye.

I actually felt sympathy for her. “Maybe if you’d just tell us everything that happened during the party from your point of view.”

Marcia started speaking, hesitantly, but she built up steam. She was interrupted by the waiter bringing the wine, which she sampled and okayed. She didn’t say the party was to recruit investors. She just called it a party. She said everything was going smoothly.

I interrupted. “I heard you and Jason had an argument during the party.”

She looked darts at me. “It was a discussion, not an argument. Jesus Christ, can’t I talk to my fiancé without having it blown out of proportion?”

Jason II said, “Did you say Jason was your fiancé?”

“Yes, we were planning to get married. We hadn’t shared it with the world yet.”

She calmed down and continued. When she got to the time when Jason had apparently gotten killed, we both listened attentively.

“We staged a dance contest on the other side of the roof from the ladder. Everyone got very involved. I was talking to someone and not paying much attention. Afterward, I realized I didn’t see Jason during the dancing, even though he enjoyed that sort of thing. I don’t. He must have gone down the ladder. As far as I know, nobody saw him go down—except the murderer. I don’t think anyone saw who killed him. The shot must have been covered by the noise and confusion of the contest.”

She choked up, unable to say anything more. I could almost believe she had feelings like a real person. Jason asked her some questions but she stuck to her story. It pretty much coincided with what I’d been told by Nelly and Evan, Jason’s roommate. I knew I wouldn’t make a good interrogator. I was inclined to believe everything she said. I did have one question I felt needed to be asked.

“How much of a role did Jason have in the syndicate?”

Marcia obviously didn’t want to answer. We ate our way through a salad course with her being evasive. I referred again to it being a Ponzi scheme.

She flared up. “It’s not a Ponzi scheme, and you can’t prove it is. Jason was the brains behind it. He’s brilliant, your grandson.” This remark was aimed at Jason II. She corrected her tense. “He
was
brilliant. In fact, we’ve decided we can’t run the syndicate without him. We’re closing it down. All investors will get their money back.”