Trifecta (10 page)

"I absolutely forbid it," Julia said.  "You
are my employee and I don't want you messing with dangerous drug dealers.  Besides,
if you try to finance this yourself and they find you don't have money for the buy,
they might kill you."

"You've watched too much television.  I'm going to
impress them, by luring them with the promise of a lot of cash.  Try to learn who
Quijada's top men are.  You actually happen to be in a much more dangerous situation,
Julia.  You're not just messing with a drug dealer, you're working for the boss
of them all.  And he's a lot more dangerous than the people on the streets selling
the stuff, believe me."

Julia looked at him calmly and seriously.  "This is
an order.  I do not want you to buy any drugs.  Especially heroin.  Period."

"Want me to search in the library?"  He was angry. 
Nobody gave him orders.

"That's preferable," Julia said.

She had her nose in the air again, Robin thought with annoyance. 
"You think you will be all safe and cozy, working for Quijada.  But you just
see the superficial.  The beautiful home.  The dandified man with impeccable manners. 
But he's a shark, and you're in the pool with him, now.  I want to resolve this
as quickly as possible.  That means getting one of his men to talk, and getting
you out of there."

"A mafia drug dealer, if that's what Quijada really
is, would kill anyone who blabbed to you," Julia answered angrily.  "Then
he would kill you.  Why do you think my brother was murdered?"  She was getting
more and more angry.  "Because he found something he wasn't supposed to know. 
Now we know where that information is.  But no.  You have to go hang out on street
corners, and try to buy a bunch of drugs, acting like a drug king yourself, when
all we have to do is find out what's in the safe."

"You just write the goddamned book," Robin said,
getting really pissed himself.  "I'll handle Quijada and this investigation."

"Who gave you the right to say how this operation
is going?  I hired you."

Robin took his wallet out of his pocket, opened it up and
retrieved Julia's check.  He put it on the table in front of her and said very softly,
"Take your damned money.  I certainly don't want it."

He was surprised when she suddenly burst into tears.  Her
expression didn't change, she didn't make a sound, but giant tears coursed down
her cheeks and her nose turned a cute pink color.

"Oh hell.  I'm sorry," Robin said.  He searched
in a pocket and came out with a handkerchief.  He gave it to Julia and watched her
wipe her eyes.  She really gave them a good rub and then blew her nose and handed
it back.

"You really don't wear any make-up at all?" Robin
said.

Julia shook her head.  "I guess I don't fit in very
well, here in Los Angeles.  Maybe I should use some lipstick."

"No.  Don't.  I think it's wonderful," Robin
said.

"I want to have a friend here," Julia said slowly 
She took a deep breath.  "And I want to catch my brother's killer.  But I don't
want to be the instigator in a situation that would put you, or anyone, in terrible
danger, just to satisfy myself that there was justice in Brian's death.  I didn't
mean to sound highhanded.  You scared me, talking about buying heroin and all that."

"There was one terrible tragedy, and you don't want
another.  I understand that," Robin said gently, smiling into her wet eyes. 
The black eyelashes had droplets of moisture, like dew.

"So how do we resolve this?"

"Do you trust me?" Robin asked.

"Yes.  Strangely enough, I do."

"Then we'll have to compromise.  I'll try to find
someone who will speak of the terrible thing that happened to Brian.  Some people
obviously know.  And they might be people who will go to Quijada's home.  If you
can, try to get the names of the people who visit him while you're working there. 
Also, their license plate numbers.  I can check them out that way."

Julia nodded.  "I'll be wandering around the grounds
with my cameras.  I can take pictures."

"Good.  But you must be cautious.  And, like you did
today, call me on your car phone or your cell.  Don't make any phone calls from
the residence.  I'll start making inquiries of the police.  See if there are records
of anyone investigating Quijada for drugs, or any type of illegal business.  I'll
bet there's something hidden from his past.  If I go for his relatives and friends,
I might turn up something."

"So you won't deal with the druggies on the streets?"
Julia asked.

"I'll put it off for a while.  Concentrate on his
legitimate business associates.  There must be some people he has angered in his
cut-throat dealings who would be willing to talk.  He's done some mighty hostile
takeovers.  You don't get where he is without making enemies."

"Thank you, Robin."

"And you promise me," Robin said seriously, "that
if you find the safe and how to get into it, you tell me.  I'll help you, although
I think that would be a stupid and dangerous operation."

Now Julia was smiling brilliantly and he couldn't help
responding.  To counter the smile, he said, "You just spoiled all my fun. 
I was looking forward to disguising myself, hanging out with the night people; the
pimps, prostitutes, wino's and drug dealers."  He managed to appear as though
she had snatched away an amusing toy.

Julia laughed and they both got up to leave.  As they walked
out, she noticed Sarah watching them from across the dining room with predatory
interest.  Julia gave her a small sweet smile and a wave, to rub it in.

As Robin went over to his enormous, ugly yellow truck,
Julia was wondering just what kind of mechanic wore costly designer suits and carried
around expensive monogrammed handkerchiefs.

J
ulia was writing, editing and printing the manuscript
most of the morning when she discovered that the Thermos she had filled at the hotel
was empty.  She really didn't need any more coffee, but she wanted an excuse to
go inside the main house and meet the people working there.  She could do interviews
and, during her exploration of the house, try to figure out where the safe was located. 

Julia had felt like a hermit, working assiduously in the
little cottage on the grounds, and purposefully staying away from the main house. 
She had taken many pictures of the front of the home when visitor's cars were parked
there to get the license plate numbers.  And she had worked late each night, so
that when Quijada had business associates over she could take pictures of the people
entering the home with her telescopic lens. 

She called the license plate numbers in to Robin every
night from her hotel room.  Most times she felt frustrated because she had to leave
the information on his answering machine.  She had not seen him in five days and
had only spoken to him once, very briefly.  Julia was annoyed that he hadn't given
her any updates on his own investigation.  He did send a package to her hotel room,
which contained a can of mace.

Julia developed the pictures she had taken of people entering
Quijada's residence herself, afraid to give them to a lab.  She copied them and
then faxed the pictures to a number Robin had given her.  He might find a drug connection,
because Quijada seemed to have meetings every night, sometimes very late at night. 
She didn't think those clandestine meetings were related to his running for governor. 
The people who came appeared rough and foreign.

Now Julia felt it was time to begin her own research. 
She needed to find out how many people were working inside the house in the daytime,
and where, in case she would have to look behind pictures on the walls, or pull
up a corner of the carpet to find the safe.  If she was caught snooping by a loyal
family retainer she could find herself in deep trouble.

Julia took a tree lined walkway that curved around the
tennis courts and then past the Olympic sized pool.  It was a gorgeous, sunny day
and she wondered if Quijada would let her swim.  She had never seen anyone in the
pristine waters.  Julia knew she accomplished more when she could get some strenuous
exercise to relieve the tension of constantly sitting at the computer. 

She had been spending most of her time there because she
found only notes for the last few chapters of Brian's book, so she had to do the
writing herself, working hard to make the transition from Brian's writing to her
own seamless.  She didn't want anyone to guess that another person had finished
the book.  Brian had died writing the book and compiling the information; he deserved
to be sole author.

Julia knocked on the back door and could see a heavy-set,
dark haired woman moving toward her through the pane of window glass in the door. 
Julia smiled, holding her thermos in prominent view, and said, "I ran out of
coffee..." when the woman opened the door.

"Ay que la!"  The woman had put both hands to
her face in shock, quickly backing up a few steps.  Tears flooded her eyes.  "The
little sister.  My, oh my.  Come in.  Come in.  You took me by surprise!" 
The woman was brushing away tears in her enormous brown eyes.  "Such a resemblance
to Brian!  Same black eyebrows and red-gold hair."

The woman went on, "Poor little girl, losing her big
brother.  Such terrible sadness." 

Julia was going to mention that Brian had been her little
brother, but now the woman had an arm around Julia's shoulders and was leading her
from the utility room, into an enormous, yellow tiled kitchen.  Julia was practically
pushed down into a chair, by soft strong hands, at the kitchen table. 

"Now you just sit right here.  I'm Rosa, and I know
just what you need.  Skinny young girl, just like Brian was a skinny little boy. 
Dios, the lord sometimes gives such burdens to bear."  Julia could feel tears
in her own eyes at the woman's warmth.

As she was talking, Rosa was pouring coffee into a large
mug.  Then she popped a covered dish into the microwave oven.

"You don't have to go to any trouble.  I just wanted
to get a little coffee," Julia said, smiling at the woman.

"No trouble.  No trouble.  I give you a little treat. 
Brian used to come in every morning.  I miss him so much.  No young people here..."
Rosa said.  She had taken the dish out of the oven and placed it in front of Julia. 

It looked like rolled up tortillas.

"You try.  Brian's especial favorite," Rosa said,
sitting down with her own cup of coffee, smiling happily that she had someone to
feed.

Julia closed her eyes in bliss when she took a bite.  It
was a fluffy white tortilla, crisped brown, with butter, sugar and a dash of cinnamon. 
There goes my diet, she was thinking, as Rosa began telling Julia stories about
her brother. 

Rosa went on and on about funny pranks Brian had executed. 
The shark fin in the pool.  He always executed an Irish jig, right here on this
kitchen floor when Rosa fed him.  Brian had helped Rosa's husband, Manny, prune
the rose bushes in back.  There was no end, it seemed, to her stories about Brian.

"...and," Rosa was saying, eyes widening with
happy, innocent importance, "he even interviewed me for the book!"

Julia perked up.  She had read about Rosa in the manuscript,
and knew she had worked for Quijada for years.  "I would like to go on with
the interview.  And if I could take a picture or two, would you mind?"

"Me?  Oh no."  Rosa looked startled, and then
suddenly shy.

 "Tell you what.  I'll take the pictures, and if you
don't like them, I won't use any of them.  Okay?

"You promise?  I would want to fix my hair.  Ay Dios. 
I am a mess."  Rosa was smoothing her thick, black hair back from her round,
unlined face.  She looked like she was in her middle forties, heavy, round and wholesome. 
Julia suddenly wished she had a mother just like her.

"I could put it up for you," Julia offered. 
"You have such beautiful hair."

"You think it would be better up?" Rosa asked,
sounding worried.

Julia nodded.  "Very dignified for the pictures. 
We can take them right here in the kitchen."

Rosa took her on a tour of the whole house.  The ground
floor was composed of the living room, dining room, pantry and kitchen.  There were
two guest rooms complete with private baths.  There was a game room with a pool
table.  A wide covered terrace overlooked the whole back of the estate. 

Below the first level of the house, Quijada had made the
basement into a huge screening room where he could preview his movies for groups
of at least a hundred people.  There were popcorn machines and counters for candy,
just like in a real movie theater; even a men's and woman's restroom were situated
close by. 

A small room beside the theater was a professional photography
studio.  It had movable lights in the ceiling and several cameras were set up for
still shots.  There was a professional movie camera, as well.  Julia wondered what
Quijada needed it for.  She wished she could use it herself, because it had a dark
room attached, but he hadn't even mentioned it to her.  She wondered why.  Quijada
knew she had rented a studio to copy the pictures from his albums and to develop
the film she had already taken of the grounds.  She could have done the work right
here. 

Rosa took Julia upstairs where the bedrooms were located. 
She showed Julia the master bedroom, which was palatial in size, with a giant bed. 
At the next bedroom Rosa crossed herself as she motioned Julia inside.  "Mrs.
Quijada's bedroom," Rosa said with reverence.  It was pink and ruffled, like
it had belonged to a young girl, quite unlike the oppressively dark and heavy decorating
in the rest of the home.

Julia wondered why the wife would have a separate bedroom,
but didn't ask, as it was unnecessary.

"Senor Quijada snores," Rosa said, and she giggled. 
"Something wrong with his nose.  A septum?"

"Deviated septum?" Julia asked.

"That's it.  He does not smell very good either." 
Then she laughed.  "I mean he does not have a good sense of smell.  When Marina
could not sleep, she came in here."

Julia nodded politely, but she was thinking that that must
be reason Aaron Quijada wore such horrible cologne.  He had no idea when the scent
was overpowering or obnoxious because he really couldn't smell it.

"So sad.  About Marina," Rosa said, sighing. 
"No one knew she was so unhappy."

"She left a note, I believe," Julia said.

"Oh yes.  But the note was not Marina's note."

"How did you know?"Julia asked.

"Marina would have written in Spanish.  She came from
Mexico and could speak English very well, but she did not write so well.  But you
won't say so in the book?  Because the note was true.  She was sick.  Marina was
Catholic, of course, and could not have children."

"It is very sad," Julia said.  "But sterility
isn't a sickness."

"For her it was.  She wanted children and could not
have them.  So it made her sick," Rosa said simply.

They went through a couple of more bedrooms, one obviously
decorated as a nursery.  Then Rosa opened the doors to a library and office space,
Aaron Quijada's study. 

"This is where Senor works so hard," Rosa said. 
"The Drawing Room."

There it is, Julia thought surprised, right there in plain
view.  A big ugly, black safe was standing independently in a corner of the room
on squat curved legs.  It was ornate and appeared very old and extremely heavy. 
The combination lock mechanism was built into the door.

Julia made comments about the extensive library and then
she remarked, very casually, that the safe appeared to be an antique.

"Senor doesn't keep much in it.  But it's very safe,"
Rosa said.

"It looks like a safe safe," Julia said, a little
inanely as she walked toward the massive thing.

"It would be if Senor did not keep changing the combination
every few days, then leaving the instructions in plain view."

"Really?" Julia asked startled.

Rosa nodded.  "A few times he changed the combination
and then had to get safe crackers to open it.  He had hidden the combination and
forgot where he put it."

Julia turned around and looked at Rosa, who was nodding
at the large desk in the corner.  Rosa was rolling her eyes, as if  saying, Aren't
men fools?

"Let's go fix your hair," Julia said.

"Oh, yes," Rosa looked pleased as she turned
to take Julia to her own bedroom.  On the way out, Julia looked quickly at the desk
top.  She didn't see a slip of paper with a combination, but it could be hidden
under the telephone or the blotter.  She would have to come back and search.  Julia
felt guilty because she would be using the information that Rosa had so gullibly
and innocently given her. 

Rosa's hair almost reached her waist, and Julia tried out
different styles, enjoying being with such a sweet woman.  She finally pulled all
the hair straight back, rolled all under and pulled the edges around into a perfect
bun, which she pinned to the top of Rosa's head.

"Oh, yes," Rosa said, holding a mirror and admiring
it from the back view.  "Very dignified."  She walked back to the kitchen
carefully, holding her head high at a stately angle, afraid to jiggle and ruin the
beautiful style.

Julia hurried back to the cottage and got her cameras and
camera bag with extra rolls of film and lenses.  As she ran back again, Bruno, the
big dog, thought she was playing a game and kept bumping her, almost knocking her
down a couple of times.

"My, you young people are so fast," Rosa said,
turning around with exaggerated care when she heard Julia.

Julia was snapping pictures as Rosa turned.  Then she took
shots of Rosa while she began preparing dinner. 

"I want to go around and take pictures of the theater
and the other rooms.  Mr. Quijada said it would be all right."

"Sure.  Sure," Rosa said, waving her spoon. 

Rosa told her that the home was usually empty except for
a cleaning service, which came three days a week.  This was one of the off days. 
She also learned that Aaron Quijada would not be returning for a few hours.

Perfect, Julia thought to herself, and started at the bottom,
taking pictures in the projection room overlooking the theater.  She would save
the safe for last.

Most of the home was quite dark and she had to spend time
fixing the lighting in each of the rooms for the photographs.  Time flew by.  Finally
she went into the study. 

Julia looked around and turned on the lights, like she
would be taking pictures.  They would be useless without Quijada sitting at the
desk, but she could figure the best shots while she snooped, she thought, heading
toward his desk.

She heard Bruno bounding up the stairs, his collar jangling
dog tags, as she moved the corner of the blotter up so she could look under it. 
Not there.  She glanced up guiltily when she heard a noise, her heart thumping heavily. 
Bruno was standing in the doorway.  He was snuffling, panting and drooling copiously,
like he always did. 

She started searching under some papers on the desk.  Nope. 
Maybe it wasn't here on the desk at all.  She picked up the telephone and looked
under it, finally deciding that the slip of paper was probably in one of the drawers. 

Julia was pulling on the handle of one of the top desk
drawers, muttering to herself, damn thing is locked, when Aaron Quijada walked into
the room.

"Are you looking for something?  Perhaps I can help?" 
Quijada said in his deep resonant voice.

Julia dropped her large camera case, on purpose, and ducked
behind the desk for a moment to retrieve it.  Even before she stood up again, she
could feel she was visibly starting to shake.  She realized she was frightened of
the man now staring at her with watery unblinking black eyes.