Lalla Bains 02 - A Dead Red Heart (27 page)

I shrugged off the surly comment. Another cup of coffee, and he'd go from surly to just crabby. I figured Shirley Hosmer had yet to see this cheery side of my dad.

Juanita gave me a quick smile. "You wan' some breakfast, Lalla?"

I begged off breakfast, but asked my dad to sit tight until after I'd made a couple of calls. Then I called a friend of mine at Imagine Charter schools, and with my suspicions confirmed, called the county tax assessor's office and got the information I needed.

Then I sat down at the table and told my dad about the property south of our landing strip, who it belonged to, and how we might be able to give Junior Margrave a stiff kick in the butt with my newfound knowledge. It was nice to see his face crease up into a smile so early in the morning.

After that, I left for Roxanne's.

Roxanne motioned me to a booth, and I weaved through tables, stopping now and then to say hi to first one person and then another. Most folks could spare me a kind word or two.

"Sorry for your troubles, Lalla," said Tommy Johnston. "Barb says hi and hang in there." His wife, Barbara Johnston, née Bettencourt, was Byron Bettencourt's sister and pitcher on my softball team. I was beginning to think that most folks here, in spite of the news on TV and in the paper, were holding out some hope that I might be an innocent party in all of this.

Roxanne sat down across from me and asked, "What's going on with you?"

I blinked, still mentally turning over my latest theory about revenge. "What do you mean?"

"Hello? The paper only said you're no longer a person of interest in Del Potts' death. But do you think to call and tell your friends what's going on?"

"Oh, that. I'm off the hook 'cause he's not dead."

"Not dead? Then how…?"

"No longer an issue." I told her about how Del had cheated death and how Detective Rodney had Caleb by the short hairs and that I'd given Caleb his ring back, at least until this was all cleared up.

"Remember that school that I thought might go up at the end of our runway? Turns out I've been sweating bullets for nothing." I told her about the dirtbag competitor by the name of Junior Margrave and all the antics he'd been doing to run me out of business this last year.

"I don't suppose you're going to wait on karma to show up and settle the score. Because he will get his, you know."

"I've already worked out my revenge for Junior, but you'll be happy to know it's nothing that involves violence. Turns out he owns that piece of land at the end of our property with the school sign on it, but there never was going to be a school there.

The good news is that the acreage is going up on the auction block for back taxes next week, and Noah Bains will be there to make sure we're top bidder. All of which got me to thinking about revenge and my brother, Leslie, and what you said."

"You mean when I asked you what you would do if your brother lost his chance at a heart transplant because it went to a convicted felon in prison?"

"Yeah, that. Now I'm wondering if Billy knew that he was marked for this sort of bizarre justice and was trying to tell me the name of his killer."

"Huh. So 'The more there is, the less you see' wasn't a poem, but his way of telling you he knew why he'd been stabbed?"

"I wish I could get another good look at his snowflakes again."

"Aren't they with the police?"

"Pippa got me a quick peek in the police evidence room," I said. "Though she might prefer to keep her distance since Del Potts was found in the trunk of my car."

I was thinking I could call Caleb, but if he had to ask Rodney, I might as well forget it. Rodney will never let the box go if he knows I want to see it.

Roxanne was picking crumbs off the tabletop, wiping fingerprints off the salt and pepper shakers, rearranging the silverware, the sort of thing she did when she was seriously thinking of how to broach an uncomfortable subject

"What?" I asked.

She rubbed a hand over her chin and said, "Don't suppose you've been exactly circumspect in your criticism of Detective Rodney, have you? Could that be why he leans on you so hard? You want my advice? Stay out of his way. Let Caleb and the feds do their job."

"I can't, Roxy, don't you see? Billy Wayne's snowflakes were his last desperate effort to get someone to listen, and all I did was sic Caleb on him. The clue to who killed Billy Wayne is somewhere in that box of a hundred or more paper snowflakes, I know it. If it's a policeman or the investigating detective, we'll have it in Billy Wayne's own handwriting."

"So you think Billy Wayne wrote some kind of message to you on those snowflakes?"

"I don't know. The few I read with Pippa in the evidence room were a complete surprise. They weren't the love poems he left on my windshield wipers, they were Edgar Allan Poe and that drunk, what's his name…?"

"Dylan Thomas. So you think another look might be of some help?"

"If Rodney has anything to say about it, I'll never see those damn snowflakes and Caleb… oh well."

"Humph. We'll see about that," she said. "I'll be right back."

While she was gone, I wolfed down a stack of dollar-sized pancakes and two eggs over medium. When she came back, I was licking syrup off my fingers.

"Sorry, sweetpea. I was going to get you that box, but looks like it's already up and gone. Think Caleb had it picked it up after all, just to please you?"

"I wouldn't think so, since we're on the outs again, but it was nice of you to make the attempt, even if it didn't work out."

"Of course I would. You're my children's godmother, aren't you? And it don't look good on their college application to have jailbird after 'Godmother.'"

I borrowed Roxanne's cell and called Jan. "Speak," she said, her voice a breathless rush.

"Did you find out if Grace Kim has left the country?"

"The SF and Oakland airport police were already checking passports for young Asian women leaving the country. If she did leave, she did it on someone else's passport. You really thinking she'd run?"

"I'm not sure, but her dad would rather lie about it than cooperate with the police."

"Okay, I'll call you if I find out something. Gotta go."

"Wait Jan, where's Del?"

"Working." She hung up on me.

He said he'd be working under cover. But then I was probably feeling jealous. At least they had a love life.

Chapter twenty-five:

Taking a side trip to the AM/PM, I loaded up on peanuts and candy bars, then parked next to Mr. Kim's alley and angled my view to include his door to the alley. I lined up my goodies—least favorite to favorite, thinking that way I might be able to avoid actually eating that Snickers bar way over on the other side of the driver's seat. This was as good as any place to sit and wait to see if Grace Kim showed up, and there was, I noticed, a blue Camry in the alley.

I didn't have long to wait. Mr. Kim's wizened head poked out of the back door, looked both ways, and then retreated back inside. Then Grace stepped out into the alley, opened the door to the Camry, got in, and started to back out of the alley.

I started up the truck and eased in front of a double-parked delivery truck where I could watch her from my rear view mirror. She passed me going towards downtown.

I pulled out and followed, keeping several cars between, which also meant that I sailed right past her when she pulled into a parking garage across from the Stanislaus County Courthouse. I circled the block and pulled into the busy lot, took a ticket, and followed the ramp up until I found her late-model blue Camry parked on the fourth floor.

I peeked through the car window then tried the door handle—it was unlocked. Inside a folded map lay on the front seat, a large suitcase lay on the back seat and a Chinese good luck symbol on a red silk tassel swung lightly on the rear view mirror.

I jogged towards the stairs hoping I might catch sight of her crossing the street, then skittered to a stop when I saw her leaning against the hood of a Honda next to the stairwell.

She couldn't have been more surprised.

For a moment I thought she would bolt, but then she planted her feet, her tone defiant. "What're you doing here?"

"You got some 'splaining to do, Lucy."

Her eyes darted around the empty garage. "Lucy?"

"You know what I'm talking about; you helped someone stuff that reporter in my trunk. You stayed to make sure I was okay but lied to the police about being there, and now you're leaving town?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. "I'm not running away if that's what you think."

"Then what're you doing in this parking garage?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm here to meet someone who can help us."

"A lawyer?" I asked, remembering that the garage was a favorite for lawyers working across the street at the courthouse.

Her laughter was bitter. "No lawyer will be able to help us."

"Then your dad
can
ID the killer!"

"Oh, please! Pops saw a glint of light shining off something.
 
He couldn't identify the killer if his life depended on it."

"What about you, Grace? Could you identify the killer if your life depended on it?"

Her lips tightened into a hard line. "I heard you were the one who got a warning. Perhaps you should be the one to leave town!"

My jaw dropped. The D-O-A note on my dad's door. "How did you know? Who told you about that?"

She shook her head, the black bob swinging.

"At least tell me why you're hiding!"

She flapped her arms impatiently. "I told you, I'm not hiding!"

"Fine," I said, reaching out for her arm. "Then come with me, and you can tell Detective Rodney how you lied to cover your own butt."

She pulled away and glared at me. "Can't you just leave us alone?"

"No, I can't. I want to return the favor you did when you saved me from a mugger."

"Some favor. Next time I see you on the ground, passed out, I'll keep going."

Frustrated with her refusal to tell me the truth, I tried with a lie of my own. "Oh? Aren't you just a bit worried that the button you're missing on your work shirt will match the one the police are looking at as evidence?"

Her quick intake of breath confirmed my suspicions. Grace was worried alright. "You're involved with a killer, Grace. Someone who murdered once isn't going to let you off the hook, just because he's a cop, or because he says he loves you."

Doubt and puzzlement flickered across her face, her brows twitched once, and then her expression flickered from sullen to surprise, and finally panic.

She turned on her heel and ran for the stairs.

I was stunned. "Grace! Wait up!" I pocketed my keys and took off after her, following the rapid, metallic clatter on the risers as she flew down the open stairwell.

She was turning from the third onto the second floor when I heard strident voices echoing up the walls.

I hesitated, waiting.

Had someone stopped her? Someone she knew? I heard voices again and then Grace answering impatiently. She was arguing with someone. The muffled voices rose and fell in the echo chamber of the stairwell, and then the light footfall doubled and faded until there was nothing.

I clambered down the stairs and onto the street. I was seconds too late to see anything but a blur of a car rounding the corner in a squeal of burning rubber.

She was gone and so was my chance to find out what she knew. Now, with only more puzzling questions that I couldn't answer, I would
have
to call Caleb.

The driver's door of Grace's blue Camry was wide open. Rodney glared at me, then said something to Caleb and walked off.

Caleb motioned for me to squat down at the open door, but not to touch anything. Then he went around the other side to lean his elbows on the doorframe so he could talk to me through the open window.

"Is this the car you saw Grace driving?"

Even now the smell of Chinese food clung to the upholstery.