Try Darkness (19 page)
“Hey what?” I said.
“I need to talk to you.”
I studied his look, tried to think of what business he would have with me. Then I said, “You wouldn’t be James, would you?”
His eyes opened wider, so I guess the original look was a glare. How very observant I am.
“How’d you know that?” he said.
“And Lana talked to you. That’s how you found me.”
“That’s pretty good, man.”
“Yeah, well, I imagine things aren’t pretty good for you right now.”
He looked at the ground as he shook his head. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill her. I loved Avisha.”
“You talk to the cops?”
“No way. They’ll take me down. I can’t go down. I got two strikes. That’s why I’m talkin’ to you.”
I looked around the parking lot. Like I expected to see a deputy sheriff or Brosia, or even a security guard named Petey watching us through binoculars.
“Let’s go inside,” I said.
“Where?”
“You drink coffee?”
HE DID. MCNITT
fixed him up with a regular cup and left us alone at a back table.
“I really loved her, man,” he said. There was real pain in his voice. “I wasn’t there to protect her.”
“Where were you?”
“My brother’s, Inglewood.”
“You have a last name, James?”
“Kingman.”
“How’d you find me?”
“Reatta told Avisha about meeting you here.”
I nodded. “What do you do, James?”
He hesitated, wrapped his hands around his cup, and wiggled his fingers. “Don’t laugh.”
“Hey, I’m a lawyer. I get abuse all the time. I won’t laugh.”
“Standup,” he said.
I laughed.
“See?” he said.
“But you want laughs. You’re a comedian.”
“I’m tryin’. You know how hard it is?”
“What do you do in the lean times?” I asked.
“That’s like all the time. I pick up jobs. That’s how I met Avisha. She and some of the girls at Night Silk had a party. I did some catering for it.”
“How long had you been with her?”
“Over a year. She was gonna quit the trade.”
“Why were you at your brother’s the night she was killed?”
“We had a fight. She was nervous lately. She wouldn’t tell me why. I wasn’t working. She didn’t want to do what she was doing anymore. She said she was working on something, but she wouldn’t say what. I got mad at her for that. I wish I didn’t.”
“You don’t know anything about what she was working on?”
“She said it was a score. That’s all. It was gonna be a score.”
“Drug deal?”
“No way. She never did any of that. Me neither.”
“Anything else she might have said about it?”
He thought for a moment. “She called it an operation. Like Operation Spice Deal or something like that. Pepper or ginger or something.”
“Spice Girl thing?”
“Spice Girls? They still alive? No, that’s not it.”
I said, “When’s the last time you saw her?”
“It was Wednesday. We had a big fight and I was yellin’ and screamin’ and she was givin’ it right back to me and I left and drove to my brother’s place.”
“How long were you there?”
“Three days, I think. Yeah, three.”
“Can you account for your time there?”
“Like how?”
“Anybody besides your brother see you?”
“Some guys came over that night. I tried out some material on ’em.”
“How many guys?” I said.
“Three, four maybe.”
“No maybes. I want a definite answer. You have to think definite from now on.”
He nodded and gave it some thought. “Four guys. One guy left early.”
“I hope he didn’t walk out on your routine.”
“I wasn’t too on. Hard to make people laugh when you just had it out with your woman.”
“Show business, huh? Now, do you know the names of these guys?”
“A couple I remember.”
I rubbed my eyes. “Did you try to call Avisha?” I said.
“Nah. I was waiting on her. I wasn’t gonna make the first move.”
“Very male of you.”
“What do I do now?”
“You want my advice?”
“Yeah.”
“You need to turn yourself in.”
He shook his head.
“You’re an obvious suspect in a murder,” I said. “You stay outside, it’ll look like you’re guilty.”
A sound came from his throat. Muffled anguish.
“Look at me, James.”
He did.
I said, “You tell me you can cover yourself, where you were at, with more than your brother doing the talking. Think real hard before you answer.”
There was definitely thinking going on, for about a minute. Then James said, “Yeah. I can.”
“Because they will check out your every move.”
“You gonna help me?”
“I don’t work for free.”
“Oh man, I don’t have lawyer money.”
“What kind of money do you have?”
“Chump change.”
“How much of a chump are you?”
“You serious?”
“When it comes to my fees, I’m very serious.”
He frowned and reached for his wallet. Opened it and fingered the contents. “Like thirteen bucks,” he said.
“Give me ten.”
James hesitated.
“Give me ten dollars,” I said.
He took out two fives and handed them to me. I put them in my shirt pocket. “Now it’s official. Now I’m your lawyer.”
“Just like that?”
“You’re going to help me out, too. You’re going to try to come up with some names for me. You’re going to think real hard. Do you think you can think hard for me, James?”
“I can try, man.”
“Good. Write out your brother’s name, address, and phone number. Tell him I’ll be talking to him. And here’s some free advice. You lie to your lawyer and it’s very bad. Do you understand that?”
“Yeah, man, you don’t—”
“Are you lying to me, James? In any way?”
“No!”
“Okay then. Now we call the deputy at Malibu station and we take you in. You are going to say that you didn’t kill Avisha, and that’s all. I’ll take it from there.”
James nodded.
DEPUTY BROWNE SAT
us in an interview room and James told him he was innocent. I told Browne I would do some checking and when I found out some useful information, I’d let him know.
“Sure,” he said, like he didn’t believe me.
And why should he?
Browne requested that James not leave the county.
I thought they only said that on TV.
Then I took James to his car outside the Ultimate Sip and went back to St. Monica’s ten dollars richer.
What a roll I was on.
THE NEXT MORNING
I took on Sister Mary again on the court.
This time I brought my A game.
I was hot. In a zone. When I played high school ball I was deadly from fifteen feet. Automatic. Had a silky shot I modeled after Larry Bird. A little fadeaway that was unstoppable.
Today it was going in, and Sister Mary didn’t like it.
We played one on one and I took her down, eleven to four.
“Just thought you should see the game when it’s played right,” I said afterward.
Sister Mary, in her gray sweats, said, “I’m ready. Show me.”
“You didn’t see the sweet jumpers? The perfect spin on the ball?”
“Was that you?”
“What does a guy have to do to get appreciated around here?”
“Eat more fruitcake.”
“I’ll take the dis instead, thank you very much.”
“Okay,” she said, “I can handle that.”
She bounced the ball a couple of times. I kept wondering what she would have been if she hadn’t given her life over to the church. A reporter maybe, one who could dig out facts, a bulldog.
Or maybe a cop or private investigator. She could get people to open to her. She had a way of making you feel comfortable and when she listened, she really listened. She didn’t have a personal agenda.
Maybe that’s what they make you pack up when you get here, your agendas. Leave them behind for God.
Which brought to mind Sister Hildegarde.
“Come with me a minute,” I said.
Sister Mary paused, then rolled the ball to the side. The basketball court backs up against the hill at the edge of St. Monica’s. There’s a dirt path up the hill to the perimeter wall, which has a wooden gate they keep unlocked. Something about trusting St. Benedict and his devotion to hospitality.
Which worked for me.
I opened the gate and that brought us to the crest of a hill. From here we looked out over the northern section of the Santa Susana range. Undeveloped land. About sixty acres of it was owned by St. Monica’s.
“It’s pretty today,” Sister Mary said.
“Imagine what it’ll be like when the development goes up just over there.”
“What development?”
“Homes, of course. Big, new, jammed together, designer McMansions. Dogs and kids and cars.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The dream village of Sam DeCosse Junior, with the cooperation of Sister Hildegarde.”
She faced me. “Can you get to the point?”
“Sister Hildegarde has made, or is about to make, a deal to sell off some of this land. To the DeCosses, so Junior can get into home development. They want to make money. Apparently Sister Hildegarde does, too. Now why would she do that?”
“You know why. To pay for health care for the older ones. Like Sister Perpetua. But we are supposed to take care of our own, not sell off assets and hire somebody else to do it.”
“Can Sister Hildegarde just decide to sell?”
“Oh, it has to go through a council vote, and technically the archdiocese has to approve. But in reality Sister Hildegarde can pretty much have her way. I’m just sick about this.”
“What if I talk to Sister Hildegarde?”
“You?”
“Yeah. Lawyer talk. Get her all confused.”
“That would be pouring gas on the fire, Mr. Buchanan. Best not.”
“Is there anything you can do? Protest? Take it to the cardinal or the pope or something?”
“Maybe I’ll write a letter. To Sister Hildegarde. And a copy to the archdiocese.”
“There you go. A little protest.”
She shook her head. “No protest is little to Sister Hildegarde.”
“Now, that I can believe,” I said. “But don’t let it be said that a nun who can throw an elbow on the court—”
“I don’t throw elbows! I use them judiciously.”
“Fair enough. You don’t strike me as someone who’ll back down from anything if she believes in it.”
“Neither do you.”
“Then think this through with me. How does a woman living at the Lindbrook Hotel, a DeCosse property, come to connect with Father Bob, who happens to live on the grounds of a monastery that owns land about to become
another
DeCosse property? And then end up dead?”
“Because she found something out?”
“It would have to be something big enough to put a contract out on her. I mean, she was getting evicted illegally. So what?”
“Or maybe it’s a coincidence. I mean, it’s not surprising that DeCosse owns properties all over.”
“Think about it,” I said. “After we play another game. The irresistible force versus the immovable object.”
“Which one are you?”
“Irresistible, of course.”
“And I shall not be moved,” Sister Mary said. “I’ll even let you take it out.”
SISTER MARY AND
I brought Kylie to the Ultimate Sip on Monday morning. I got them both hot chocolate with whipped cream and had a Darwinian for myself. I was starting to get hooked.
I made some calls. One of them to Detective Brosia. Left a message.
Sister Mary said, “We need to talk about Kylie’s schooling.”
“Do we?” I said.
“I want to go to school,” Kylie said.
“You ever been?”
Kylie shook her head.
“We need to get her caught up,” Sister Mary said. “I want to undertake tutoring for a time.”
“What’s cootering?” Kylie said.
“It’s something nuns do with rulers,” I said.
“I ought to slap
you
for that,” Sister Mary said.
“Slap who?” Kylie said.
“No one,” Sister Mary said. “If Mr. Buchanan can focus for a moment, I would like to ask him a legal question.”
“Oh, goody.”
“Goody!” Kylie said.
“My question is as follows, Mr. Buchanan.”
“Ty, please.”
“Mr. Buchanan, what are the legalities involved in private tutoring vis-à-vis the truancy laws?”
“Did you just say
vis-à-vis
?”
“What if I did?”
“That’s good. Usually I have to write those kinds of words down.”
“Your answer?”
“I don’t know the answer.”
“Can you find out?”
“It’s what I do. What about public school?”
“In Los Angeles? Are you out of your mind?”
“Touché. Parochial school?”
“Yes, when she is brought up to speed.”
“Speedy,” Kylie said.
“I don’t think it will take long,” I said. “Go for it.”
BROSIA CALLED ME
back. “What have you got?”
“Maybe we can trade a little information.”
“I don’t do that. You can tell me what you have and I’ll let you know.”
“That doesn’t sound exactly fair.”
“I’m not interested in fairness.”
“You don’t sound like you like me anymore,” I said.
“I don’t like the fact that there are two dead women and you’re involved with both of them.”
“You call what I’m doing ‘involved’?”
“What would you call it?”
“Interested.”
“There’s nothing worse than an interested lawyer. You’re not an investigator or a cop. You’re going around sticking your nose in places it shouldn’t be. And you’re not licensed to do that.”
“Detective, you know as well as I do that a license is not required when working as a lawyer. Now, I could hire an investigator, but I figure with the money I save doing it myself, I can go to Starbucks.”
“If you end up making things tougher on me, that could mean obstruction.”
“I know what I’m doing. The question is, do you?”
“Listen—”
“Have you talked to any of the people at the Lindbrook yet?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Have you figured out how somebody could get in wearing a big rainbow hat and get out and nobody saw him?”