Come Twilight (19 page)

“But it didn’t?”

“No, it didn’t.”

“How did your dad feel about that? Did he take it personally?”

“He was disappointed, but I don’t think so. I even went to him and asked if he could help a little more. I knew he’d already given Joe a lot, but I thought maybe if he could just see him through a couple more months until the business picked up, that might be all we needed.”

Jen waited before asking the next question, to give Lucinda a chance to continue. She did.

“There was another investor who pulled out at the last minute,” Lucinda said. “After the last minute, really. Right when the opening was happening. Joe thought it was too late to postpone again, that it would cost more than going through with the plan.”

“This other investor,” Jen said, sounding as if the question were an afterthought, “is he someone your dad knew?”

“No. Goran was someone Joe worked with before. At one of the restaurants where he was assistant manager down in Laguna. I think Goran was the co-owner or something.”

Jen hadn’t written anything on the notepad. While Lucinda hadn’t seemed to notice the gradual transition into the formal part of the interview, she was surely aware of it now. Unless Jen wrote constantly, Lucinda might take notice of the specifics she was discussing when the notes were taken and be able to discern what information Jen seemed to find most interesting.

“Did you know him? Goran?” Jen asked.

“I met him once, years ago, when Joe worked for him, but I hadn’t seen him since then.”

“How did your dad take it when the business failed?”

“He was okay. He felt bad, of course, but he was actually really supportive. I never told Joe, but he helped us with mortgage payments a few times afterwards.”

“It didn’t seem to hurt him financially, your dad?”

“No, I don’t think so. He wasn’t rich or anything, but he always told me to never invest anything you can’t afford to lose. So I don’t think he ever did.”

“Are you going to be okay with the house payments now?”

“I hope so. We’re supposed to meet with Dad’s lawyer about his will. I keep putting it off. But I think we’ll be all right.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that,” Jen said warmly. “It sounds like your dad gave you guys a lot of support.”

“He did. But not just money. It wasn’t like that. That wasn’t even the most important part. He was always there for us, you know?” Her voice cracked on the last few words of her sentence. She’d been fine with the financial stuff. This was more abstract. Now, she was dealing more palpably with the loss.

“Do you need a minute?” Jen asked.

“No, I’m okay.”

“I talked to a lot of the tenants in your dad’s building. They liked him. A few of them said he was the best landlord they ever had.”

“Yeah,” Lucinda said. “He was like that.”

“Do you know any of them?”

“Not well. I’ve met Harold a few times. He lives in one of the studios? A few others, but just to nod or say hi to.”

“Did you know Kobe?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She thought about it. “Kobe, like the basketball player?”

“Yes,” Jen said. “He was renting the other studio.”

“Oh, he was the young Asian guy, right?”

“Yes, that’s him.”

“I’ve seen him once or twice. Why? Do you think he had something to do with my dad’s death?”

“We don’t know. But we do need to talk to him. He hasn’t been home lately.”

Jen kept talking to Lucinda, but she’d gotten most of what she wanted. Her goal with the close was to fade out the same way she’d faded in. A few minutes later, she said, “Thank you very much for coming in, Lucinda. It’s really been a big help.”

“I wanted to. I want to help,” she said, sounding almost sad about the interview coming to an end. The dynamic wasn’t unusual. When someone felt like they could contribute to the murder investigation of a loved one, an interview often gave them a way to feel useful, as if they were making a difference, and sometimes they were sorry to let go of that feeling. Unless they were guilty or holding something back. Then they usually felt so glad to be done they couldn’t hide their relief.

When I took the earbuds out and closed the files, I knew Jen had aced the interview. Honestly, she did much better than I likely would have.

I also came away convinced that Lucinda didn’t have anything to do with her father’s death. That gave me some comfort, until I remembered I was off the case and what I thought didn’t really matter at all anymore.

The stack of files and the notes I’d made about them before were waiting for me, but I tried to ignore them while I logged on to Motortrend.com and started shopping for a new car.

I’ve never really cared that much about cars. Megan helped me choose the Camry and I hadn’t really considered another car since then. For most people, a new car is a big deal, a major change. Maybe even a fresh start.
This is a big deal,
I told myself,
it matters.
I decided to treat it like what mattered most to me—an investigation. By the time Lauren came to pick me up at five thirty, I’d pretty much narrowed it down to three choices.

One, just get another Camry. It was the easy choice, even if it was lazy. My old Camry had served me well, if not very excitingly. Aside from a single flat tire and a one-time-only dead battery, I’d never had a problem with it. I just got in and started it up, and it took me anyplace I wanted to go for well over a decade. Also, Jen’s dad had spent his entire career working for Toyota and I wasn’t sure I could face him at the anniversary party if I bought another brand. Still, I also wasn’t sure loyalty to the model and a desire to avoid a bit of social awkwardness were enough to overcome my desire to try something new and different.

Two, opt for the equivalent model from Honda, which every car writer and their mother said was the far superior choice. It had been on
Car and Driver
’s ten-best list for like a hundred years. But that equivalent was the Accord, and I was fairly certain that all the white Accords I had imagined were following me in the last week had caused me to develop a conditioned stress response to the model. I might be okay with it, though, if I never looked at it over my shoulder or in a mirror.

Three, the Subaru Legacy. It wasn’t quite as popular with the auto-magazine staffers as the Honda, but the customer-loyalty numbers were through the roof. And while it didn’t impress the
Road & Track
crowd very much, the
Consumer Reports
guys were keen enough on it to make it their midsized sedan “Top Pick.” I was also pretty sure it came with granola and a kayak, both of which would probably be good for me. And Julia had a Subaru. Hers was a Forester, though, and I’ve never been much of an SUV guy. But I couldn’t buy the same model as her anyway because that would just be weird.

When I explained the situation to Lauren in the car on the way home and asked what she thought I should do, she looked at me like I’d just asked for advice about which knitting needles would be best to use to make some booties for my grandbabies. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m glad there won’t be another Camaro in the parking garage.”

When we got back to Jen’s house, I was surprised to see a Sheriff’s Department Yukon parked in front. There was a K-9 insignia on the side.

Lauren went first up the driveway, calling out “Hello, anyone here?” loudly enough for anyone in the backyard to hear. As I followed her up the driveway, my foot slipped off the edge of the concrete and I nearly stumbled onto the lawn.

Around the corner came Steven Gonzales, the bomb-squad deputy who’d swept my duplex for explosives last week, with a dog at his heel. God, had it really only been a week?

“Beckett?” he said, spotting me behind Lauren. “Heard you might show up while I was here.”

Patrick must have told him. And asked him to check the house, too. I introduced him to Lauren. He held her hand too long and said, “Call me Steve.”

She waited for him to let go while looking directly at the scar on his face. “What happened?” she asked.

“Iraq,” he said, releasing her hand.

“It sure left a mark,” she said.

“That’s not the only one.”

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at some ink on his bicep that extended below the cuff of his short-sleeved uniform shirt. I wondered if the LASD still had their no-visible-tattoos policy.

Gonzales said, “That’s my Explosive Ordinance Disposal badge.”

“The scars weren’t enough of a reminder?” she asked, touching the tattoo. “Are those wings?”

“It’s a wreath,” he said. I think I saw him flexing a bit.

I gave them a few seconds in case either one of them wanted to engage in any more flirtatious banter. Neither did, so I said, “Is the house going to explode?”

Gonzales looked down at the dog as if to confirm his assessment and said, “I don’t think so, but if you’ll let us inside, we’ll make sure.”

He and the dog walked through the house, then the garage and Lauren’s place in back. After he’d cleared them all, I walked out to the SUV at the curb with him. “I’ll let Glenn know everything’s secure,” he said, opening the back door and letting the dog in.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” I knew what he was going to ask.

“What’s the deal with Terrones?” At least he pronounced her name right, all three syllables. He even got the Spanish inflection that I could never manage to.

“She’s a good cop.”

He nodded. “You think she might want to—”

“I’ll ask her,” I said.

“Thanks, man.”

He drove away and I went back inside and found Lauren in the kitchen. “I thought you had a girlfriend,” I said.

“I do.”

“Gonzales wanted me to give you his number. You want it?”

“Not really,” she said, surveying the open refrigerator in front of her. “But why don’t you text it to me so you won’t have to lie when he asks.”

Julia came over again. Honestly, I was embarrassed that we had to keep seeing each other at Jen’s house. I suggested we hold off for the night, but she wouldn’t hear of it. It felt like being in high school again—sitting on someone else’s couch with a girl and hoping not to get caught. At least I’d convinced Lauren that we’d be okay with her out back in her own place. She’d told me that it didn’t feel right hanging out at home while she was technically on the clock. Especially after Jen had texted her saying she’d be home late and that Lauren should keep an eye on me. Eventually I’d worn her down and convinced her to give Julia and me some privacy.