Trifecta (6 page)

A
fter Robin left Julia at Cedars Sinai Hospital,
the judge was extremely angry when he finally raced into court, straightening his
tie and very late.  The judge glowered at him under bushy, angry brows and Robin
feigned the correct emotions; contrite, properly respectful and sorry that he had
held up the proceedings, citing a family emergency as the reason for his tardiness. 
The judge ominously said he would let it go, this time.

The only thing Robin was actually sorry about was that
he couldn't be in two places at once.  He had not wanted to leave Julia.  Especially
with that pig-headed, arrogant prick of a  boyfriend with his thinning hair and
air of superiority. 

On the other hand, Robin was eager to present his case. 
He was defending a young man who declared that he did not beat and stalk his former
girlfriend.  They were serious charges.  Robin believed him.  The boy was only twenty
years old and his girlfriend, piqued that he had ended their relationship, had brought
the charges against him as a sadistic revenge.

Robin got up when it was his turn to speak to the district
attorney, explaining that this young man would not even eat a shrimp.  Robin paused
dramatically and then explained that because his client loved and respected all
living things, he was a vegetarian.  Now he was accused of assault against a woman. 
Robin made a careful summation of the reasons he believed that it would be wrong
for the young man to be remanded to jail, and for this case to go to a jury trial. 

As Robin left the courthouse later that day he felt confident
he had done a good job.  The man he was defending had an excellent chance of beating
the false charges without going to jail or through a jury trial.  The district attorney
had believed Robin, and his client was out on bail.  The case might not even have
to go to the grand jury.

When Robin went back to the office he did paper work on
several other cases, made telephone calls, prepared depositions, and arranged for
an independent medical exam in a workers' compensation case, but his thoughts were
with Julia Monay.  It was hard for him to believe that she really might have something
going with that obnoxious, supercilious doctor.  He wanted to give her credit for
a little better taste in men.

He realized later, when he called out for food, that he
had been waiting for her phone call all day long.  He'd checked his home number
for messages about ten times, but he decided to try one more time.  It was almost
nine o'clock.  He was tired.

Robin impatiently waited two endless days for Julia to
call him.  Then he called the mechanics at the service station to find out what
Julia's plans were for her BMW.  Julio told Robin that the lady had directed him
to make preparations to send it back to Boston, as she was already home.

Robin was disconcerted because Julia had promised that
she would call him.  Now she was thousands of miles away, and probably had no intention
of contacting him.

Well, Robin thought, he would be eating crow with his friends
Tony and Jay for a while.  But that didn't matter.  He made immediate plans for
a date with Sarah, a sizzling redhead, thinking, Hell with it.  He could have any
woman he wanted.  He would have a damn good time tonight and forget the golden haired,
stuck-up snob from Boston.

The next morning, when the telephone rang at his office
he grabbed his head in misery.  He had fled to work on a Saturday to escape Sarah,
who was probably still asleep. 

Robin had had a bad moment, when he got up that morning,
disoriented and hung-over, seeing Sarah in his bed.  It had somehow been all wrong. 
He never brought women to his home anyway, but rather stayed until the wee hours
at their places, and then always left before dawn.  This morning he had taken three
aspirin and driven to the office, in too much of a rush to escape to even to consider
making coffee.

He had a pounding headache.  But it had been worth it,
he thought, as he reached for the damn telephone to stop the ringing which reverberated
painfully throughout his cranium.  He thought it was worth it, anyway, and believed
he had had a good time, but the memory was a little fuzzy.  He had one hell of a
hangover.

"Is Robin there?"  A crisp Boston accent.  It
was Julia! Robin clutched at his head, glad his secretary was not there.  She would
have answered, Law Office, and given him away. 

"This is Robin," he answered, hoping that he
was thinking straight through the gigantic throbbing.

"This is Julia Monay, in Boston."

Act casual, Robin thought to himself.  "Yes?"

"Do you remember who I am?"

"Of course," Robin said.

"Well, I wanted to ask you some questions about the
circumstances at the hospital, with my brother, Brian."

"Oh?"

"I was thinking about what you said.  At first I thought 
there was a cover up.  But then I remembered that you told me not to say anything
about Brian's last words.  And I thought maybe there was something more.  That perhaps
this was not random violence, and you were trying to keep me quiet so I would be
safe."

"Ah-huh."

"Are you okay?  Should I call back another time?"
Julia asked.  She sounded impatient.

"No!  Don't hang up.  I really don't have anything
concrete to tell you."

"You saw that something was wrong.  And either my
brother's death was hastened by a routine hospital mistake, or..."

"Or what?" Robin asked.  This woman was smart.

"Or he was murdered."

"What makes you think that?" Robin asked.

"The way you were acting.  The cover-up at the hospital. 
The fact that his body was taken away from the place where he was beaten...and dropped
somewhere else."

Her voice almost broke and he felt very sad for her.  "Maybe
it would be better if you just let it go, Julia," Robin said gently.

"I tried, and I can't.  I know it won't bring him
back." Julia's voice was now a whisper.  He could tell she was trying hard
to control herself, not to cry.  "We had the funeral yesterday.  I finally
decided I had to know."

"It might not be wise to stir things up."

 Julia went on as though he had not spoken, "I'm going
to walk in his shoes, do all the things he did, and find out for myself.  I'm coming
back tomorrow."

Robin thumped the speaker on his phone so he could massage
his temples.  "I don't think that's a good idea."

"My brother was on an assignment, working for Aaron
Quijada.  He was ghost writing an autobiography.  I called and persuaded Mr. Quijada
to let me try to complete the work."

Robin said, "I'm afraid that's a very bad plan."

"So you actually think he was murdered?"

"I think you should forget the whole thing."

"It's true, then," Julia said.

"You should stay home.  You might put yourself in
danger."

"I appreciate your concern.  But I'm arriving tomorrow."

"Listen.  I know this Aaron Quijada.  He'll be running
for governor in the next election.  This is very hush, hush information, because
he hasn't declared himself a candidate.  He's a powerful man."

"I know about him," Julia said.  "I did
some research.  But I need to know what you found out at the hospital."

"I'm not going to tell you."

"Well then, I'll have to find out for myself."

There was no way he could deter her, Robin decided.  He
did want to see her, of course, but not by having her come to Los Angeles and set
herself up in some seriously jeopardizing circumstances.

"Listen," Robin said, "why don't you stay
in Boston.  I'll  come, later in the week, and tell you what I know.  I'll go to
Cedars-Sinai Hospital, first, and ask around.  Hell, I'll even go and speak to Aaron
Quijada myself."

There was a long pause.  "That's a generous offer. 
But now I know I have to come.  The police believe it was a robbery and won't look
into it any further, because there isn't any physical evidence for them to think
otherwise.  If you would just tell me what you heard, or saw, when you went back
to Brian's hospital room that morning?"

"I will.  But only if you tell me what Brian said. 
His last words."

"Not over the phone," Julia answered.

"I'll pick you up at the airport."

"Julio's driving my car there.  Then I was planning
to go directly to Mr. Quijada's residence."

"Julio, from the service station?"  Robin was
surprised.  He thought they were sending the car back to Boston. 

"Yes.  Let's meet at the Polo Lounge some evening. 
I'll be staying at the Beverly Hills Hotel."

That could be disastrous, Robin thought.  There were too
many people he knew that might casually come over to say hello. And then she would
find out that he was not a mechanic.  But that was foolish now, Robin reflected. 
This whole situation was getting too serious for silly pretensions.  He would have
to tell the truth about himself as soon as he saw her.  Still, he didn't want to
meet with her at the Polo Lounge.  "Tell you what.  I'll start looking into
this situation.  It would be better if we're not seen together." 

Robin got her reluctant promise to come to his place after
she saw Aaron Quijada.  She was not happy about it, but seemed to think it preferable
to his coming to her hotel room.  She wanted his information very badly.

F
or once, Julia was glad to be away from her beloved
city of Boston.  The memories there had been too painful, Brian's absence felt in
each familiar street she was on, each old building she passed.  And it was wonderful
to drive her own little car again, even in this enormous, sprawling city of Los
Angeles. 

She was exulting that her car was responsive and seemed
to be in perfect mechanical condition as she took the 101 Freeway toward the Sunset
Boulevard exit ramp.  Robin had not been wrong when he had advised her about where
to fix the car.

She hoped Robin would not be a problem when she finally
spoke to him tonight, as he had been on the phone.  He had been very obstinate. 
Face to face, they would trade information. 

Julia was puzzled because Robin did not seem at all like
her  stereotype of a typical mechanic.  She couldn't quite picture him guzzling
beer and scratching his belly as he watched football games with his cronies.  No,
Robin was obviously intelligent, well educated, articulate, likeable and very stubborn. 
But Julia felt confident that she would find out everything he knew, eventually. 
He had a gigantic crush on her.  Otherwise he wouldn't have made the offer to come
to Boston, or to start an investigation on his own.  But this infatuation would
not prove to be a problem either.  She had devised a plan to cool his obsession. 

As Julia exited the freeway, she reminded herself that
she would be gentle.  Robin had been kind and extremely helpful.  Besides, she liked
him and didn't want to hurt his feelings.  She smiled when she thought about him
in his special suit for going to court.  Her best friend, Linda, whom she had known
and traded secrets with from the time they were both five years old, would have
considered him a hunk.  But Linda hadn't seen him in old torn jeans with grease
under his fingernails, or that awful truck he had been driving.

Thoughts of Robin were supplanted by those of Aaron Quijada,
whom she was going to meet in a few minutes.  She had to get the job that Brian
had begun, writing Quijada's memoir.  From that vantage point, taking brother's
place in Los Angeles, she might be able to piece together information about what
had really caused his death.  The funeral had been just yesterday and she still
felt she was in a sad daze, but she reminded herself that she had to concentrate
foremost on getting the job. 

Julia had come on this quest as a means of resolving things
for herself so she could get on with her life.  If she didn't find out, she knew
she would always regret it.  And she was angry enough now that she wanted revenge
against the person who had beaten Brian and ultimately caused his death.

Julia passed through West Hollywood, with it's gigantic
billboards, the Hollywood Hills to her right, with their twinkling lights in the
beautiful homes in the hills, and through the 'flats' of Beverly Hills.  Sunset
Boulevard became curvy as she headed toward Bel-Air, where Aaron Quijada lived,
during the quiet hours of twilight.  Certain parts of Los Angeles were very beautiful,
Julia mused, a little surprised at the lush vegetation and rustic, country-like
loveliness as she turned right into the Bel-Air Estates, on Bel-Air Road, from Sunset
Boulevard.  She drove slightly uphill for several miles until she reached the correct
address.

A closed iron gate barred entrance to the Quijada estate. 
She got out of the car and found a speaker phone in the enormous brick posts which
held the gate.  When she picked up the receiver a male voice at the other end asked
who she was and Julia identified herself.  The gates opened up and she got back
into her car and drove down a long driveway as the gates closed behind her with
a loud, ominous clang, audible even in the car. 

Now she was entering into the place where she believed
there might be clues about what happened to her brother.  She drove slowly.  The
large estate, which she estimated must encompass several acres, was enclosed by
thick stone walls which were at least six feet high.  For privacy, she assumed.

The home itself was huge, several tall stories, also with
a stone facade and peaked slate roofing.  The large front windows were leaded in
tiny diamonds.  It was a forbidding structure, almost like a medieval castle.  Enormous
oaks surrounded the home, adding to the sinister illusion.  There were flower gardens
which extended around to the back, but they were all in shadows at the end of the
day and did not brighten the exterior of the place.  The drive was a wide circle
and she could see behind the house for a moment, when she made the expansive curve. 
There was a large patio, a swimming pool and tennis courts beyond the house.

As Julia stopped, the front door opened and a man stood
haloed in the light from inside the house.  He was heavy and dark.  Beside him stood
a massive dog.  She couldn't make out the man's features, but they gradually became
defined when she walked up the steps toward him.  He was probably in his fifties,
with thick black hair that was slicked straight back from his face.  The eyes were
the most extraordinary feature in the rather heavy face.  They were so dark they
reminded her of blue black plums.  His mouth was large and sensual, but Julia had
stopped looking at the man because the dog was moving forward toward her, a low
growl in its throat. 

Julia had never seen such a large animal.  Normally not
intimidated by dogs, she stood there, perfectly still, until the dog came up to
her with his head lifted and sniffed audibly at her.  Its nose was wet, she could
feel the moisture as the massive head bent down to snuffle at her hand.

"Bruno," the man said sternly.  The dog did not
turn around but backed up, stiff legged, until he stood by his master again.

"He's just a sweet, big puppy," the man said. 
"Now he knows you are female.  Bruno would never attack a woman."

Wonderfully comforting, Julia thought.  It wouldn't be
easy  sneaking around with that enormous dog on the premises.  Julia felt certain
that the mystery of what had happened to her brother would be revealed here.  There
were secrets that were hiding.  She planned to explore every crevice of the place. 
If she got the job.

Aaron Quijada introduced himself and led her into his home. 
The entrance hallway had a fountain with the statue of a nude boy and girl in the
center, holding hands.  They walked around it and down a few steps into the sunken
living room, which seemed spacious as a football field.  Aaron indicated a white
brocade couch for her, and he sat down in a leather chair.

He had obviously been expecting her and a silver service
with coffee was on the table in front of her, with several plates offering cakes
and cookies.  Aaron poured her a cup of coffee and took one himself.

"You have a strong resemblance to your brother,"
Quijada said, as he settled back comfortably.  "I was surprised and saddened
by his death.  We had become good friends."

Julia nodded and waited.

"We had been working together for a couple of months,
as you know.  I'll take you back to the cottage where Brian was staying.  You can
look over his notes.  I have to admit, I didn't know if this was a good idea, your
finishing up his work, until you told me that no one else could decipher his writing. 
I went back there and tried to understand what he had written down, and could not
make out one word."

Julia sighed deeply, unaware that she did so.  "We
made up a kind of shorthand, when we were just little kids.  Each figure represents
a thought rather than a word.  It's almost as fast as typing.  But no one else can
read it.  He would have transposed those notes to his computer, though."

"Yes.  Well, I know computers, and that was a mystery,
too.  He didn't seem to have much written down, although when we were together he
took copious notes."

Julia wasn't surprised.  Brian always used codes when he
was writing a first draft.  Until you knew the code and put it in the computer,
the work would not show up at all, even in the computer's directory.  Brian had
not liked anyone seeing his writing until it was complete.  She just hoped she could
figure out what the codes were so she could gain access to his files.  Then she
would have all of the information.  Maybe there would be cryptic messages buried
within that would disclose more about his death.

"I understand that you are under some pressure, because
the publisher is expecting a first draft at the end of the month," Julia said.

Quijada nodded.  "Another reason why I wanted to find
someone who could work quickly.  Brian said he was almost ready to send the first
few chapters to the publisher for editing, but now I can't find them.  If we agree
that you will take over, you could stay here, if that would be acceptable.  There
are guest bedrooms, or the cottage that Brian was using."

"I would be totally at your disposal," Julia
answered, "but I would rather stay in a hotel.  I have reserved a room at the
Beverly Hills Hotel.  It's just a short drive from here, and I have my own car,
so I can accommodate any schedule you like."

She could tell he was still undecided and was surprised
by the thought that it was because she was a woman.  Why, the man is a chauvinist,
she decided, startled that he could have lived so long in the United States and
still have antiquated ideas about the ability of the female sex.  Of course, Aaron
had been brought up in a very male dominated culture, being of Mexican descent. 

Julia had dressed in a business-like fashion, as she always
did when going out for a job.  She had on a grey tailored suit and had tucked her
hair into a severe bun at the back of her neck.  But that was not enough to impress
him with her professionalism.  She had to prove she could do the work.

Julia opened her briefcase and took out a portfolio.  She
put it on the coffee table between them, moving the silver tray out of the way. 
She presented several articles that she had written for newspapers and magazines,
and then showed him a collection of photographs that had been published.  She had
been working as a photographer, but often wrote the text as well.  The pictures
exhibited exotic animals in Africa, mosques and minarets in Istanbul, and ruined
castles in Northern Europe.  Her specialty, though, was portraits of everyday working
people and she had pictures, some very poignant, from all over the world.

"Brian mentioned he had an older sister who was a
photographer.  I didn't know you could really write."  He actually seemed impressed,
and she didn't know whether to be insulted or amused.

Julia held back a smile when Quijada got all animated,
looking over her photographs, and pulled out his own heavy albums from a shelf across
the room, going over them in minute detail with her.  He had a large family, most
of whom lived in Mexico.  Then there were many pictures of himself on movie sets
in romantic locations around the world, producing motion pictures.

He was a very charismatic person and she was uncomfortably
aware that he found her attractive.  She wondered why there were no pictures of
an immediate family, with a wife and children, but she was sure she would find out
if she was hired.

"I'd like to change the slant on the book my brother
was writing," Julia said.  "Make it more pictorial.  In all of the photographs
from your albums, you stand out dramatically.  Your coloring, and a certain masculine
charm.  We could make this a book that would really be different, one that would
be easier for people to pick up and look at, rather than a dry dissertation of your
rise in the movie industry.  Your ideals could be shown much more graphically." 

Aaron Quijada immediately saw the wisdom in the proposal,
as Julia though he would.  He wanted publicity and many more people would buy the
book in the format she suggested. 

It would also give Julia much more freedom, prying into
his life, if she could roam around and take pictures.

"You know I'm running for governor in the next election?"
Aaron asked.

"My brother hinted at it," Julia said.  That
was not true, but she wanted him to think she knew more than she did.

They discussed the book she would do at some length, with
the problems of using more photographs and the likelihood that the publishing company
would go for the changed format.

While they talked, the big dog seemed to be asleep at Quijada's
feet, until Julia made any movements.  Then he would look up with little yellow,
bloodshot eyes.  She felt she did not trust either the man or the dog, but decided
she better make friends with the dog if she was going to be roaming around the grounds
of the estate.

When Julia got up to leave she stopped and dropped to her
knees, waiting for the monster to come to her.  He finally slunk over.  She petted
him, while he slobbered on her hands.  The big dog seemed composed entirely of muscle
and gristle.  He finally lay down beside her and rolled over for a tummy rub, making
happy little grunts, which sounded more like growls, when she whispered baby talk
and patted the enormous hairy chest.

"I told you he was just a puppy, a pushover for a
beautiful woman," Quijada said.

When she got up the dog gazed at her with slavish devotion
and also with sadness that had she stopped her ministrations, which was supposed
to inspire guilt.  The big dog was so funny that she laughed and started stroking
him again.

"You have the job," Aaron said, as he watched
her with his puppy, admiringly.  Julia was very beautiful when she relaxed and laughed. 
"If you would be good enough to come here tomorrow morning, I will take you
to the cottage where Brian was working and you can get started."

Julia smiled with satisfaction when she left.  Her first
goal had been accomplished.  Now she just had to get Robin Chavier to reveal what
he knew about her brother's death.