P.J. Morse - Clancy Parker 01 - Heavy Mental (28 page)

Fake Jorge had somehow escaped police attention. He was probably long gone from Colma and looking for small-time cons elsewhere. In a weird way, I was glad. If it weren’t for him, either Mr. Buckner or Dr. Redburn would have won.

I looked at my favorite headline one more time:

“HEIRESS RISKS LIFE FOR THE GIANTS.”

And Sabrina Norton Buckner did. There was no disputing it. Sabrina Norton Buckner—she’d probably drop the “Buckner” soon—had finally stepped up to the plate for once in her life, and, when she did, she hit the ball clear out of the park. Clayton Crespo had already extended his personal thanks and visited her hospital room for a photo-op, even though Sabrina had no idea who he was. Nurses were having trouble handling all the flowers sent by the fans.

Amazingly enough, other than the bullet-riddled body of Dr. Craig Redburn, Sabrina Norton Buckner was the only other person seriously hurt in all the madness. Mr. Buckner’s bullet shattered one of the ticket windows but left the employees unharmed. The popcorn guy ducked just in time and was smart enough to stay down. Dr. Redburn’s body struck an unlucky churro vendor. The vendor suffered a broken arm but was treated and released. Sabrina Norton Buckner took two bullets from Dr. Redburn, one in her arm and one in her side, which would require a longer stay.

The nurse told me I could visit Sabrina. I brought a little bouquet of wildflowers. I stepped inside the room. “Hi there, Sabrina. How are you feeling?”

Sabrina was pale, but her hair was still tidy, and she somehow managed to put on a little mascara. “I’m all right.” She paused and thought for a moment. “Yes. I’m all right.”

I sat down. “These are for you. It’s nothing much.” I handed Sabrina the modest cluster of flowers.

They looked bedraggled against all the professional arrangements in the room, but Sabrina treated them like she’d received a present from a royal. “Why, thank you!” she gasped. “How lovely! They look like something you would give.” She kept looking from the wildflowers to me. “You went far for me. He could have shot you, too.”

I laughed. “It would have made sense if he shot me. I’m his enemy. You were his sugar momma! He wasn’t thinking!”

Sabrina looked back at the flowers and touched some of the petals. “I wasn’t thinking, either. His words sounded good to me. The trustees were fit to be tied that I almost gave him the necklace. I gave all of my jewels to them until everything blows over.” She became sad. “If it ever blows over.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. You should be proud of yourself. I bet the trustees were impressed that you took one for Clayton Crespo.”

Sabrina laughed. “I hardly know who he is. A baseball player? He visited me. He said I was a MILF.”

I started laughing, too. “Take that as a compliment.”

Then Sabrina became serious. “What happened, though? No one has told me. They just say my husband and my doctor were stealing from me.”

I was glad that she asked me. It would have been hard for anyone to figure out. “It all started when you started seeing Dr. Redburn. Your husband saw an opportunity to commit you and take your money.”

“That’s what he always wanted, right?” Sabrina recalled.

“Yep,” I said. “Only he hadn’t gotten the ball rolling yet. When he figured out that you were going to give Dr. Redburn your necklace, he got greedy.”

“That necklace is most of my value,” Sabrina pointed out.

“Yep,” I said. “And if he lost his job as chancellor, he was going to need as much money as possible.”

“Why did he want the necklace?” Sabrina asked. “Was it his secretary?”

I remembered what the Real Jorge Vazquez said about Mr. Buckner’s skanky assistant. “I’m sure some of the money went to her, but he was greedy in general.” I decided not to tell Sabrina about her husband’s unpaid bill at the Gold Coast BBQ.

“He wasn’t the only greedy one,” Sabrina sighed. She looked at the wildflowers.

“Well, your husband figured out Dr. Redburn pretty quickly. Takes one to know one, right? He heard Peggy gave Dr. Redburn money, and he guessed you were next. When Peggy stole the necklace, he thought Dr. Redburn did it, so he hired some thugs to retrieve it.”

“The receptionist?” Sabrina asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Mr. Buckner was in a hurry to get this done, so he just bought off Jorge. Jorge was already working for Dr. Redburn, and he brought his buddy Travis on board. But they weren’t that bright, so your husband hired me as insurance against them. It was pretty smart. He could get evidence that you were crazy, and he could get more reliable reports on the doctor. If Dr. Redburn hadn’t figured out what Jorge was up to and fired him, it might have worked.”

“Did Jorge and Travis kill Rosa?”

I paused a moment. The next revelation was going to be tough. “No. The police think that may have been your husband.”

Sabrina inhaled and looked away. “She was always so kind to him.”

“They think it was your husband because Rosa was hit by a blue van that matches the description of a UC Sacramento facilities van. They haven’t found the van yet. It’s probably at the bottom of the bay.”

“Why would he kill Rosa? Of all people?” Sabrina asked.

“I think she was trying to warn you about your husband. She was always worried about you.”

“And that is how he thanks her,” Sabrina sighed. Then she asked about the other man in her life: “What about the doctor?”

Fake Jorge hadn’t lied to me that day in the rehearsal space. I said, “The police found an airplane ticket to Buenos Aires and a passport on Dr. Redburn’s dead body. Your necklace was his retirement.”

Tears filled Sabrina’s eyes. “One airplane ticket?”

“Just one,” I replied.

Sabrina sighed, “Well, at least he wasn’t going to take Peggy. There’s some consolation in that.”

She seemed so sad that I had to say something. “Look, you did something brave with that scream. You knew he could kill you, but you did it anyway. You saved lives.”

Sabrina said, “Yes. But now it feels like I have no one.”

I replied, “Then you start over. On your own terms. You have money, you have beauty and the only person who can stop you is … you.”

Sabrina smiled. “After all I’ve spent on shrinks, that’s probably the best line I’ve heard. Have you considered going professional?”

“Are you kidding? With a cheesy line like that?”

“Yes. I am kidding. Just not very well. I’m new to the joke thing.” Sabrina smiled again and stared right into my eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“Any private eye could have done it. But I don’t think they would have enjoyed it as much as I have!” I picked up my satchel, reached in, and pulled out another business card. “Call me if you need me. Even if you don’t need me. I want to hear how it all turns out for you.”

Sabrina nodded and sighed deeply. She was looking sleepy. “I will, Clancy. I promise. Say hi to your mother for me. I hope she’ll keep inviting me to her parties. I should go to more parties.” Her head lolled on the pillow.

I stood up. “I will. I’m on your side.” With that, I departed the room, and Sabrina Norton—minus the Buckner—was left to begin the task of rebuilding a real identity for herself.

CHAPTER 38

SOUTH OF THE SLOT

I
N
D
ECEMBER,
I
HELD MY
hand to my forehead to block the lights that were shining in my face. I had tuned my guitar, and I was ready. The sound guy wasn’t especially cooperative, and I wished the crowd were a little more attentive, but I’d take it. The Marquee Idols were opening for Highbrow/Lowbrow at South of the Slot, and I hadn’t felt that kind of adrenaline rush since my adventure through the baseball park.

I looked to my left, my right and behind me. Wayne was looking goofy and high, almost like he’d forgotten what it was like to be in front of a crowd, but he was smiling and nodding with a few friends of his who had staked out the front of the stage. He’d emerge from the haze when the music started. He always did.

Muriel had turned her back to the crowd, which was her habit from playing with the Thunderpussies. Then again, she hadn’t performed with the Thunderpussies for a long time. Based on how much Muriel was hanging out with Shane, I was thinking that the Marquee Idols was fast becoming Muriel’s main gig.

 Shane was giving the drums an occasional pounding. He was in his standard show uniform, which was nothing more than a pair of swim trunks. Only a beefy, jovial guy like Shane could pull that sort of look off. Some sweat was glistening on his face, and I wasn’t sure if it was the stage lights or nerves. It had been a few months for all of us.

Whenever a person is on stage, she can’t see the crowd well, save for the really devoted fans or pals lining the stage. But I could tell shapes at the bar. Mom was there, sticking out like a sore thumb in her fine attire, but I was positive that the bartender was taking good care of her. Harold was right by Mom. He’d just checked out a political history on the relationship between JFK and RFK from the library, and he took it with him to the show. I guessed he was squinting at the pages, trying to get in more reading before the show began.

Mom and Harold were still recovering from their sudden field trip to Sausalito. When Larry picked up Mom, she refused to ride with Dad, and she wouldn’t go anywhere without Esperanza, so Hans had to take them both in his Volvo. Once the caravan reached Sausalito, Mom and Dad pouted when Larry demanded everyone’s cell phones and threw them on the roof of the cottage. Even worse, Mom sprained an ankle while walking up the steps to the cottage’s front door, but that just meant that everyone fawned over her and gave her a little extra attention.

Mom even got along well with Harold, who helped everyone pass the time with games of Trivial Pursuit and charades. Apparently, Mom and Dad were better at communicating with each other in hand gestures than they were with words, and they had two civil conversations, according to Harold’s count. Hans gave everyone free back massages, and Esperanza said the Sausalito trip was one of the best times she’d had in her life.

I could also barely see the rounded shape of a turbaned head. Anmol drove his new ice-cream truck down to South of the Slot. Since the weather was colder, he wasn’t moving much ice cream, so he was distributing hot chocolate instead, and the audience was pretty happy to see his truck outside the club’s entrance. Anmol was smart and had lavishly insured the old ice-cream this time around.

Dad couldn’t make the show due to a produce conference, but he’d called earlier and wished me good luck. Once my name got in the papers after Dr. Redburn died, he grudgingly admitted that he admired my work. He said, “It was the first time a Parker made it in the paper without buying ad space or paying a PR flack. Or without being your mother. Nice job.”

And I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw a tall, lanky figure near Anmol leaning against the bar. Tall, lanky figures were common at rock shows, but Larry had called me the day before, saying he might be able to take a night off from his intense studies to check out what he called “Marquee Idols 2.0.” After I checked in with him about everyone’s Sausalito experience, he revealed that he actually let himself have a little fun. He said that he could see where I got all of my attitude after dealing with my mother for a few hours. Ever since, he’d been calling every few days, just “checking in,” he said. I remembered how rich and melodious his voice was, even through the Crackberry, which made everything else sound like it was coming through tin cans and twine.

I didn’t expect to get back together with him, but I was glad that the rift was healing, at least a little, and that he accepted my choices. I swore that, after he helped me out, I would give him less crap for being a lawyer. Maybe when he settled down, he’d look back on his little Sausalito adventure and his brief affair with a rock ‘n’ roll detective with fondness. I grinned, struck the opening chord, and stepped to the mic.

FREE PREVIEW OF EXILE ON SLAIN STREET

CHAPTER ONE

ESTABLISHING SHOT

T
OPAZ WAS BITCHING ABOUT GETTING
her weave wet when I first noticed Kevin’s body floating in the pool.

“I paid good money for this, and I ain’t bustin’ it,” she said, pointing to the roots of her honey-streaked, flowing, fabricated locks. “It is not worth winning a challenge.”

I had it with all these women and their hour-long beauty routines that kept me waiting to use the bathroom. “Shut up! I don’t care about your weave!” I yelled.

“Repeat that,” Topaz dared me.

I was tempted to do so, but I refrained. I could show Topaz what having a weave torn out felt like another time. Instead, I pointed out what Topaz and everyone else missed. “There is a body in the pool!”

Even though it seemed we had a drowning on our hands, my fellow reality-show contestants looked from one to the other. Like Topaz, they didn’t want to get wet, not even if it were a matter of life or death. If the body in the pool had belonged to Patrick, the rock star we were all supposedly fighting for, every one of those women would have been making like Pamela Anderson in Baywatch.

I ran for the pool while the other women stood to the side in their miniskirts and hot pants cut up to their choo-chas.

“They didn’t say the challenge started yet! It starts at 10:00, and it’s only 9:45! Not all the crew is here!” Lorelai shouted. “This might be part of the challenge! It might be a dummy!”

Lorelai was wrong. I knew the challenge that day had nothing to do with the pool. Earlier that morning, Kevin, who was the executive producer of “Atomic Love 2,” had tipped me off that the cast members would be forced to drink shots of Pepto-Bismol mixed with orange juice and hot cocoa blended with tomato soup. By drinking these noxious beverages, the contestants would prove their everlasting love to the aging rocker who was the star of the show.

Whoever had the strongest stomach and didn’t throw up earned a big date and an escape from a hothouse full of jealous, drunk women. All of the contestants were craving a brief moment of freedom, possibly even more than the chance to spend time with a relatively famous musician.