Sex, Murder and a Double Latte (25 page)

“But earlier in the video someone paints a gang insignia on a car, right on the driver’s side door.”

The veins in my hand bulged as I tightened my grip on the armrest. Mary Ann had her hands clasped in front of her and was simply beaming as she waited for me to respond. I opened my mouth, then closed it, trying to figure out what words would fully capture the feeling I was experiencing. “Well…shit.” I kind of thought those words summed it up rather nicely, but Mary Ann wasn’t mollified.

“Did you hear me? I said…”

“I heard you. I guess there isn’t any doubt anymore. The murders are connected. This guy has a pattern—mess with the victim’s car and then…well, then kill them.”

“Did anything happen to Tolsky’s car?” I couldn’t help but be irked by the enthusiasm in her voice.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.”

“I’m sure it was vandalized. I’m just sure of it. JJ Money’s and Tolsky’s murders are linked to what is happening to you and I am the one who figured it out.” She looked like she was going to burst into a set of cartwheels.

“Congratulations, Mary Ann, that’s great. Too bad I had to become the target of an intended homicide in order to prove your genius, huh?”

Mary Ann’s shoulders dropped from their elevated position. “I’m sorry, that probably sounded insensitive.”

“A tad.”

“It’s just that I think I might have a gift for detective work, and that made me feel kind of good about myself, like I was…like I was smart.”

I sighed and reached my hand out to her in apology. “I’m sorry, really. I’m just exhausted, that’s all. You have been indispensable in all this. I never would have made the connection between me, Tolsky and JJ Money without you.”

Mary Ann was beaming again. “Thank you.” She hopped onto the cushion next to me. “This is so neat. It’s like I’ve discovered this secret talent, kind of like when I first got into makeup. I mean, I can look at someone and immediately know if they’re a spring or a summer or—”

“So, did you find out anything that would link Anatoly to JJ Money?”

“No, nothing to link Anatoly or Jason other than the fact that JJ Money did live in New York and you said Anatoly did too.”

“That was never in question.”

“Yes, well, I confirmed it.” She leaned over to pet Mr. Katz, who was gently kneading her nylons. “Oh, but I did find something to connect him with Mark Baccon.”

I slowly pushed myself to the edge of the love seat. “What?”

“I said—”

“I know what you said—what did you find?” Could I have been wrong? Was it possible that the police had arrested the right guy and I wasn’t the world’s worst judge of character?

“I found something to connect Barbie’s ex with—”

“Listen to what I am asking.” I stood up so I could better resist the urge to shake her. “What did you find that connects JJ Money to Mark Baccon?”

“Oh. I was looking at some pictures of JJ Money that had been in the magazines and there was one taken at some club or party in Las Vegas, and in the far background I was able to make out Mark Baccon. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t just looked at a picture of him in this morning’s newspaper. He looks so mean. Do you think they try to find pictures of criminals that make them look mean or do they always look like that? I’ve always wondered—”

“Mary Ann, do you realize what this means?”

She sunk her teeth into her lower lip the way she always does when she discovers herself to be completely lost.

“Mary Ann, Mark could be our bad guy after all.”

“But you said the police were wrong about everything.”

“No, I said the police sometimes make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean they’re not right a lot too. Maybe this is one of those ‘right’ times.” Please, God, please let it be a “right” time.

Mary Ann freed her lip. She pulled Mr. Katz onto her lap and methodically scratched him behind the ears. “It would be nice if neither you nor Dena had been going out with a killer.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” I glanced down at Mr. Katz, who was now in a purring frenzy. I scratched him there all the time and he never reacted that way for me. “You know what would be even nicer? Knowing that the man who was after me is locked up behind bars and ain’t ever getting out.”

“Unless he breaks out. Oh my gosh, Sophie, what if he already has?”

“It’s pretty hard to break out of jail, Mary Ann, plus it would have been on the news.”

“Are you sure? Remember when we watched that movie
Copycat?
Harry Connick Junior escaped and was out long enough to kill two armed guards and he almost got Sigourney Weaver and I don’t think that was on the news, otherwise Sigourney Weaver would have seen it coming. Oh, and in
Bandits
Bruce Willis just jumps into a cement truck or something and drives out of the prison. He didn’t even plan ahead for it.”

“Mary Ann?”

“Yes?”

“Those were movies.”

Mary Ann started at my rise in volume, thus upsetting Mr. Katz’s little massage session.

“I’m sorry…again.” My hand went up to my temples. “Really, like I said, I’m just very, very tired and on edge. I’m trying to cope with all this but…but…God, it’s just so much.”

Mary Ann removed my unfaithful pet from her skirt and encircled me in her ballerina arms. “It’s okay, Sophie. It’s all going to be over soon. We’re going to figure this out and everything will be okay again. In the meantime, just remember it could always be worse.”

“Someone may be trying to kill me and I don’t know who. How can it be worse?”

“Well…there could be
a lot
of people trying to kill you.”

I disengaged myself so that I could obtain enough distance to gawk at her. Her teeth went down on her lip again.

“Not helpful?” she asked meekly.

“I think I’m going to bed now.”

CHAPTER 15

“One man’s tragedy is another man’s apocalypse.”

—Sex, Drugs and Murder

I
woke up the next morning groggy but less ornery than the night before. Despite my insults, Mary Ann had volunteered to spend the night. I did feel safer with her there. After all, if the killer broke in, Mary Ann could try to engage him in conversation, and then the two of us could quietly make our escape while the intruder was trying to pick himself up off the floor.

I threw on a robe, crept past the guest room where Mary Ann still slept, and went down to the lobby to collect the morning’s paper. When I unrolled it a few minutes later on my dining table I was greeted by a six-by-eight color photograph of Mark Baccon. This was going to get a lot of publicity. Despite what people thought about big cities, people didn’t often get hacked up in public parks. Homeless people died in the streets, gang members shot each other, an occasional wronged spouse opted for a gun rather than a divorce attorney…but going after someone with a hatchet, now that was thinking outside of the box.

The phone rang and I nearly went screaming for the door. Mr. Katz looked at me in bewilderment as I placed a shaky hand over my heart. This would be a good time to start smoking pot. I listened to my voice rattle off the greeting before the beep. “Soph, honey, you home?”

I snatched up the phone. “Marcus, if you are calling to berate me for not personally calling you after finding Barbie—”

“I’m calling to admit that I’m a stupid little shit. I wouldn’t blame you if you dumped me and replaced me with some rising star at Vidal…although that would be a mistake because I know your hair like no one else ever will. But I’m a little shit, nonetheless.”

“Why are you a shit?’

“You came to me for advice and guidance and I told you to lighten up, let your guard down, and then look what happened. God, honey, I could have gotten you killed.”

I sighed and pulled a box of sweetened puffed rice cereal from the cupboard. “First off, I didn’t come to you for advice. I came to you for a deep condition and trim, you just gave the advice as a little unwanted bonus.”

“Go ahead, rip me apart, I can take it.”

“Marcus, there’s nothing to take.” Mr. Katz hopped up on the counter so he could glare at me at eye level. I put the cereal down and went for the kibble. “I would have eventually come to the same conclusion you did. Maybe it would have taken a few extra hours, but in the end I would have called Dena, apologized and made a date to meet her at the park. Nothing would have been different, except you’d feel less guilty and I’d need a haircut.”

“Still…”

“No stills. It wasn’t your fault.” I put the bowl down and managed to remove my hand before Mr. Katz inadvertently ate it. “You do believe me now, though, right?”

“You can definitely count me among the believers.”

“Mmm, too bad the police aren’t.”

“Ugh, the police. They just always have to have their evidence.”

“Well, I’m trying to get some of that.”

“Are you playing sleuth?”

“Pretty much. I’m playing Alicia Bright.” A few grains of the handful of cereal I had attempted to shove in my mouth fell to the floor. Thank God I didn’t have video-conferencing.

“Oh, how fun. Can I play? I can be, I can be…does Alicia Bright have a sexy gay sidekick?”

“Nope. But I am the author. I could add you in.”

“Oh, definitely add me. Look, despite what you said, I really do feel awful about Tuesday. Can I take you out for lunch today as an apology? We could work on your mystery.”

“What the hell. Maybe you can help me make sense of everything because I’m sure as heck not doing a very good job of it on my own.”

“One-thirty, then? Lulu’s? I haven’t been to Lulu’s in ages.”

“Lulu’s it is. I’ll meet you there.”

I hung up the phone just as Mary Ann glided into the kitchen. She looked impossibly sexy in the oversize T-shirt I had lent her and her hair had this tousled “come hither” thing going for it. I, on the other hand was modeling long johns, fuzzy socks and a hairdo that was somewhat reminiscent of a mushroom cloud. I managed to swallow enough of my jealousy to give her a halfhearted smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“Gosh, no. I tossed and turned all night thinking about everything. Can’t you tell?”

Life was so unfair. “Mark Baccon’s in the paper today.” I lead her over to the dining table and tapped the front page.

Mary Ann leaned over it and examined the photo. “Wow, he looks like a total criminal.”

“He is a criminal.”

“Well, yeah. I don’t know if you could look like that and expect to find a nice job. You know, this is why I think people should be more open-minded to the idea of men wearing makeup. If he just had a little under-eye concealer, maybe some foundation to lessen the appearance of that scar…”

“I’m meeting Marcus today. I’m going to bring him a little more into the loop. Maybe he’ll think of something we haven’t.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I don’t know, I haven’t thought of it yet.”

Mary Ann nodded solemnly. “I wish I could stay, but my shift starts at one.”

“Too bad, we really could have used your brain power.”

Mary Ann smiled and excused herself so she could go make herself “presentable.” I took the time to stuff more rice puffs in my mouth.

By ten-thirty Mary Ann had taken off and I was left alone to contemplate my life, whatever was left of it. I dialed the numbers for Margaret Tolsky and left messages. This time I said that I could prove that some of the things that came out in the press after Alex Tolsky’s death were incorrect and I wanted to be sure she knew the truth so her lawyers could go for a libel suit. That
had
to pique her curiosity. She may be an elitist but she was also human.

I was slipping on my coat with the intention of grabbing some coffee before I met Marcus when the phone rang. Bingo. I grabbed the receiver. “Hello? Mrs. Tolsky?”

“
Miss
Tolsky,” Shannon corrected. “DC Smooth will be calling your house today at twelve o’clock Pacific time.”

“Wait, you—” I checked my watch. “But that’s in less than an hour. When did you make the appointment?”

“Yesterday, before I left the office.”

“So why are you just telling me about it now?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve been busy?” The words squeaked out at a couple of octaves above my normal pitch. “I’m trying to prove that your father didn’t commit suicide, I thought you wanted that.”

“I do, but I also have a life to live. Besides, this idea that DC has any connection to my father’s death is just inane. He lives across the country, and he was in the middle of a murder trial when my father was killed. As far as I can see, you’re wasting everyone’s time.”

I stared at the phone. If I threw it across the room it might break, and then I’d miss the call from DC Smooth. I’d have to find something less important to smash. “If you think I’m wasting your time, why are you helping me at all?”

“I don’t think you’re doing any major harm. Plus, you’re one of two people who believe me when I say that my father didn’t commit suicide, and if you’re going to try to convince more people of that, then I will try to be as cooperative as possible.”

“Cooperative would have been calling me at the time you made the appointment.”

“Do you
not
want the appointment now?”

“No, don’t be—” I stopped myself before I said something that would piss her off as much as she had pissed me off. “I want the appointment. I’ll be here at noon.”

“Good. You’ll let me know if you discover anything useful?”

“Oh, yeah, at least within the first forty-eight hours. I do have a life to live, after all.”

“Goodbye, Sophie—”

“Wait.” I held the receiver in both hands as if that would keep her from hanging up. “I need to ask you something.”

“What?”

“In the months before he died did anything happen to your father’s car? Was it vandalized, stolen, broken into? Anything he might have mentioned would be helpful.”

“Nothing happened to his car that I’m aware of. Unless you count his paranoia over his rearview mirror.”

“Meaning?”

“We had a business lunch about a month before he died. We got in a disagreement, as usual, and I left halfway through. Fifteen minutes later he called me, irate, accusing me of readjusting his rearview mirror. He was drunk, of course.”