The Scent of Murder (17 page)

I
absent mindedly folded up the pages I'd been given and stuffed them in my backpack, as I walked out the door. I clicked my tongue against my teeth while I thought.

So Amy had been staying in a place that the Richmond family owned.

Interesting.

I wondered if Brad Richmond knew about it.

Then I wondered if the Starter jacket was his. But I didn't think so. Try as I might, I couldn't picture him wearing it.

I checked my watch again. It was almost four. Maybe Brad Richmond was back in his office. I used one of the pay phones on the first floor of the courthouse to dial the factory and find out. According to the receptionist, he was in.

“Shall I connect you?” she asked.

I told her I'd changed my mind, I'd call again tomorrow, and hung up. I needed to speak to Richmond in person. Talking over the phone just wasn't going to do it. Then, before I realized what I was doing, I reached into my bag, got out my cigarettes, lit one, and inhaled. Last one for the day, I promised myself, and headed for the door.

It had gotten darker out since I'd been inside. And gustier. I buttoned my jacket and turned up my collar, but the wind still found a way in. It tugged at my hair and whispered in my ears as I hurried to the cab. While I unlocked the door, I noticed clouds were building up in the west. We were in for another storm. I drove quickly, weaving through the increasing late afternoon traffic. The cars had their lights on. Everyone was driving fast, anxious to get home after a day at work. The sky was banded with streaks of pale pink, light grey, charcoal, and black. Road, median, grass, and trees all looked smudged in the dusk.

Because of the traffic, it took me almost half an hour to get to the plant. I spent the time thinking of what I was going to say to Richmond, wondering what he was going to say to me, and smoking another cigarette. I was about to light a third one, but I tossed it and the pack out the window instead. Then I was sorry I'd done it, but it was too late. Even I realized it would be suicidal to try and retrieve them.

When I got to the lot, I parked in one of the spaces set aside for visitors and entered the building. The receptionist wasn't at her station, which was fine with me, because I didn't want to be announced. I just opened the door to the offices and went inside. As I walked down the corridor, I caught sight of her chatting with a coworker. I'm sure she would have stopped me if she'd seen me, but her head was half-turned and she was deep into her conversation. I nodded at the people I passed and they nodded back at me. No one asked me what I was doing there.

Luck was with me, because Elizabeth Walker wasn't at her desk either. She was probably getting ready to go home. I could see Brad Richmond from where I was standing. He was sitting at his desk. His head was bent. He was reading a computer printout and making notes on a yellow legal pad he had in front of him. His head shot up when I said hello.

“How did you get in without being announced?” he demanded. He looked annoyed at being interrupted, or perhaps he was just angry at being made to look foolish.

“I walked in. No one was at the front desk.” I pulled over the leather chair from the side of the room and sat down.

That annoyed him even more. He placed his hands on the edge of his desk and pushed himself back. “Exactly what is it you want? Because I'm busy. I have things to do before I leave.” He gestured at the papers on his desk.

“I just want to ask you about the house.”

He did puzzled. “My house?”

“The one on Easton Avenue. The one that's held by The Maxwell Corporation.”

“Oh that.” He gave a small, little laugh. “We own a fair number of properties.” He put his pen down. He tried looking bored, but he wasn't succeeding very well. “What about it?”

“I was driving by and I noticed it was for sale. I was thinking of buying it.”

“Really?” Richmond raised an eyebrow to convey his disbelief.

“Yes, really. The realtor told me you had rented the place. I wanted to know how the arrangement worked out.”

Richmond rolled his pen between the palms of his hands. “I wouldn't know. You'd have to ask Gerri. She's the one that handles the rentals.”

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “I didn't think she had anything to do with the company.”

“Just this. It was Dennis's decision. Gave her something to do besides shopping.” Richmond put his pen down. “Of course now that we're selling the properties, she's going to be out of a job.” He gave a grim little smile of satisfaction.

“May I ask why you're selling?”

“I never liked the idea of diversifying in the first place. And since Dennis is no longer here, I'm going to put the money back where it belongs—in the business.”

“Doesn't Gerri Richmond have a say?”

Brad's smile grew broader. “Not when it comes to something like this. Now, if that's all. I really have to catch someone before they leave for the day.”

I thanked him for his time and got up to go. I was at the door when I turned around. “One last question.”

“Yes?” he growled.

“Did you know that Amy was staying there?”

He opened his eyes a little wider. “Was she, now?”

“Yes.”

“Imagine that.” He shook his head in amazement.

I couldn't tell if he was lying about not knowing or not.

On the way out, I spotted Elizabeth Walker and Charlie Richmond talking together. Elizabeth seemed to be fascinated with what Charlie Richmond had to say, and I couldn't help thinking, as I watched her, that she was going to go far in life. She definitely had the ability to say one thing and do another. He made another comment and she laughed and strolled away. She was almost at the corridor when she saw me. She did a double take and came over.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out, obviously surprised to see me.

“I just dropped in to have a little chat with your boss.”

A worried expression crossed her face. “You didn't have an appointment, did you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Because I didn't think you were marked down in the book.”

“I wasn't,” I assured her. “I just took a chance and walked in.”

She sighed in relief and placed a hand across her chest. “Good, because Mr. Richmond would really be upset if I'd forgotten to let him know.”

“So what did Charlie have to say?”

Elizabeth flushed and began to fidget. “He wants me to go out with him. It's tough,” she continued, when I didn't say anything. “I can't be rude to him, but he doesn't take no for an answer.”

“From where I was standing, it looked as if you were enjoying yourself.”

Elizabeth's mouth crumpled. “He gets really mad if I act like I'm not interested in what he has to say. It's really hard. Usually I try and stay away from him. But once in awhile, he catches me.” She gave a fatalistic shrug.

“Have you talked to anyone?”

“I don't want to make trouble. It's not like he has his hands all over me or anything like that.”

“Maybe you should talk to your boss. I have a feeling he might like to do something about the situation.”

“Thanks.” She leaned over and gave me a quick hug. “Thanks a lot.” She walked away, and I continued down the hallway. The office staff eddied and flowed around me. They were putting on their coats and chatting with each other as they got ready to go home. As I drove out of the lot, I called Gerri Richmond. I wanted to let her know about Amy staying at the house on Easton, but no one was home. I left a message on the machine and headed off to KFC.

“The least you could have done was call,” Tim grumbled, when I walked in the door. “You're two hours late. I can't do all of this by myself.” He gestured towards the boxes of cat products that needed to be unpacked and shelved.

I apologized and handed Tim his dinner. He accepted it grudgingly. “Did Manuel call?”

“Nope.” Tim went in the back to eat. Zsa Zsa and Pickles followed behind him.

Actually I wasn't expecting Manuel to. I figured he'd roll in somewhere between three and four in the morning. But I was wrong. He was waiting for me when I got home from work. He must have been listening for the car, because he opened the door as I was about to put my key in the lock.

“Listen,” Manuel began. “I know you must be really pissed and I'm really sorry about the way I've been acting for the last couple of days. If you'll just give me a chance to explain....”

“You've got to be kidding.” I stepped into the hall and put my backpack down on the table. “I want you out of here.”

Manuel tugged his pants up. “You've been real nice to let me stay here and I've been a shmuck.”

“No. You've been a liar. I spoke to TJ.”

Manuel became absorbed in studying the cracks in the floor. He twisted the heel of his left foot back and forth. “I guess you want to hear what's been going on.”

“Actually I don't give a shit.” I walked into the kitchen.

“Come on Robin, don't be like that,” Manuel pleaded, as he dogged my footsteps.

“How do you expect me to be?” I demanded. Then I stopped short. The counters were clean, the sink was gleaming, so was the floor.

“I did the upstairs too.” Manuel went over to the refrigerator and opened the door. “See,” he said, pointing to the pan sitting on the top shelf. “I even made us meatloaf. I figured we could talk while I heat it up.” I didn't say anything, but I was wavering, and Manuel knew it. “Please Robin,” he begged. “At least listen to me.”

“All right,” I conceded, sitting down. “But it had better be good.”

Manuel's smile lit up his face. He turned on the oven, put in the meatloaf, along with some garlic bread, and sat down across from me. He proceeded to spin a long complicated story having to do with a friend named Jamal, his girlfriend, the girl's brother, hiding out, an abortion, money owed, a flat tire, and a fight out in the parking lot at Fay's.

“You believe me, don't you?” he asked when he was done. He looked at me anxiously, while he waited to hear what I was about to say.

“Yes.” The story was too complicated and stupid for a lie.

“Good.” Relieved, he leaned back in his chair.

“Why didn't you tell me this in the first place?”

He shrugged. “I don't know.” James jumped up on the table and Manuel started to pet him. “I guess 'cause I didn't want you to think I was some kind of jerk. I mean these guys are my friends, right? What could I do?” He lapsed into silence.

I was about to say, “find some new ones” when the phone rang.

It was a collect call from Amy.

I told the operator I'd accept the charges. Amy got on a moment later. Her speech was slurred. She sounded drunk. Or stoned. She was rambling, but I didn't want to interrupt her because I was afraid that if I did, she'd hang up on me.

“I dyed my hair,” she told me. “Now it's black.”

“It must look nice,” I said, even though I was fairly sure it looked horrible. Black was the one color no one should ever dye their hair. It looked like shoe polish.

“No it doesn't. I hate it.” She started to cry. “Everything is so complicated,” she said, between sobs.

Manuel's head was practically resting on my shoulder, as he tried to hear what Amy was saying. I frowned and pushed him away.

“I didn't think it would be, but it is.”

I picked my next words with care. “Things do tend to get out of control.”

“People shouldn't lie.”

“No they shouldn't,” I agreed, looking at Manuel. He blushed and studied the ceiling.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could hear Amy's breathing. It was heavy, almost feverish. “I'm sorry I involved you in this mess. I didn't mean to. You have to believe that.”

“I do. You know your father's funeral is tomorrow.”

Amy didn't say anything.

“Do you want to go?”

She didn't answer, which was an answer in itself.

“Amy?” I said, after a moment had gone by. “Are you still there?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded far away. “I need to talk to you,” she told me. “Maybe we can meet.”

One of my grandmother's sayings popped into my head. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. By those lights, I should feel ashamed indeed. “How do I know you're going to be there?” I demanded. “You've run out on me what? ... Three times in a row?”

“I won't this time.” Amy apologized again. “I really need your help. Please.”

“This is the last time.”

“Tomorrow at three o'clock. At Carousel. In front of the Halloween store.” She hung up.

“I bet she doesn't show,” Manuel said.

“Bet you're right.”

I got a bottle of wine and two glasses out of the cabinet, went into the living room, turned the TV on, and slipped
The Shining
in the VCR Manuel and I watched it together, while eating his meatloaf. Then I went to bed.

 

 

When I got up the next morning, I briefly entertained the idea of going to Dennis Richmond's funeral, but there didn't seem to be much point, so I went to work instead. Business was steady and, before I knew it, Tim arrived and it was time to take off for the mall. I got there ten minutes early. Around Christmas, it could take you half an hour to find a spot in the parking lot, but now I got one close to the entrance. The place was huge. It had all the usual national chain stores, a food court, several movie theaters, and a carousel that seemed out of place, its hurdy-gurdy music plaintive under the mall's relentlessly bright lights. A cathedral to the American spirit of acquisition, the place had done well, throwing the other malls in the area into a steep decline. The area's population was static, and new stores and restaurants took customers away from older establishments in a never ending game of retail roulette.