9 Hell on Wheels (20 page)

I thought about Willie and how he could magically conjure up information authorities would take weeks or even months to discover.

“Does the description of the killer sound like anyone you know?” I asked.

“Nope,” Elaine answered. “That was a pretty general description, but I’m confident it wasn’t a professional hit or a random crime. Mark my words: that was personal. Your friend Miranda probably knew her killer. But at least now you know it wasn’t a suicide.”

“But I can’t go to the police with what I’ve just found out. They’d never let up on wanting to know how I learned it.”

“True.” She looked at me. “I have faith that you and that good-looking husband of yours will figure out a way to ferret out the killer without jeopardizing innocent people. If I didn’t, I would never have taken you there today.” She laughed. “Lisa may think you’re dumber than a box of rocks, but I know better.”

After several miles, Elaine pulled into the parking lot of a small strip mall and parked on the far end. Lisa pulled in behind us and waited.

Pulling out my cell phone, she handed it to me. “Get out and call someone to come get you,” she told me. “You can’t come with us, and I can’t risk driving on the 5 with them, especially with that checkpoint just north of here.”

I looked over my shoulder at the back seat. Carlos was playing with some action figures while his mother looked anxiously out the window. I knew she wouldn’t relax until she reached her family.

“I want to argue with you,” I said to Elaine, “but I know you’re right.” I looked into her eyes. “Thanks for everything—not just for what you’ve done for me, but for what you’re doing for them.” I jerked my chin toward the back seat.

She gave me a half grin. “Just stay out of my business in the future, okay? I’m getting used to doing you favors, and that’s not good for my reputation.” She pulled a five-dollar bill out of the middle console and handed it to me. “I know you gave them all your cash, so here—buy yourself a cup of coffee while you wait. If you go to that fast food place over there, you might even be able to buy yourself lunch.”

While I watched, the SUV exited the parking lot, with Lisa guarding the rear. I fired up my cell and called Greg. Before I could even say hello, he was all over me. “Where are you, and are you okay?” His voice was high pitched with worry and stretched to breaking.

“I’m fine, honey,” I assured him. “But I need a lift.”

Twenty-three

When Greg’s van pulled
into the parking lot of the burger joint ninety minutes later, I almost leapt into it before it had come to a complete stop. We’d been in touch by phone during his drive, but I’d refused to discuss what’d I learned until I saw him in person. Instead, I used the time to grab an iced tea and think about who might have killed Miranda. Borrowing a pen from the girl at the counter, I scribbled notes and possible suspects on a bunch of napkins while I waited for my honey.

“I’m sorry I pulled you away from work,” I said to Greg after giving him a hard kiss on the mouth and patting the dog. I was so happy to see the two of them.

“I wasn’t getting much done worrying about you,” he said, his voice strained. “Besides, it was kind of quiet today.”

He didn’t make any attempt to put the van into gear and leave. Instead, Greg stared out the windshield, his jaw taut, and I knew I was about to get an earful. “You nearly gave me a heart attack today, Odelia,” he finally said, straining to keep his voice even. “What were you thinking, meeting that woman like that?”

“She said she had information about Miranda’s death, Greg. And I really didn’t think she’d hurt me.” I paused. “She says I remind her of her sister.”

“Yeah, that’s what she told me when I asked her why she was helping.” He looked at me. “Do you believe her?”

“Yes,” I said, then told him about Dottie.

“It explains a lot about the woman, doesn’t it?” he finally said after thinking about what I’d just told him. “But most people still wouldn’t turn into contract killers. You have to be pretty bent to do that.”

After another moment, he put the van in gear and asked, “You hungry? Or did you eat lunch while you waited?”

I shook my head. “Just an iced tea.” I looked at the clock on the dashboard. “You can drop me off at home,” I told him, “then head back to work. No sense you losing a whole day because of me.”

“It’s really okay, Odelia. I told Emily to close up if I don’t come back.”

“Then let’s grab something, and I’ll tell you what I learned.”

After consideration, we decided to eat closer to home and headed for The Gull in Huntington Beach. It was a café on Pacific Coast Highway across the street from the beach. It was also the place where Greg and I had had our first meal together. We still frequented it. I didn’t know if he suggested it today out of sentimentality or because it was close to his business and he could check up on things on the way home. Emily could close up, but Greg would feel more comfortable if either he or Chris battened down the hatches for the evening.

“So who do you think the killer is?” he asked after I filled him in during the hour-and-a-half drive back to our neck of the woods.

“I’m still not sure. Elaine thinks that it was not drug related. She thinks it’s personal and that Miranda might have known her killer.”

“How about that sister of his?” Greg asked. “She could pass for a small man.”

“I thought about her, then remembered Dev saying that the police had looked into her already—she had an alibi for that day.”

“They were wrong about how Miranda died. Maybe they’re wrong about Ann Tanaka.”

“But she wasn’t at the tournament, so she wouldn’t have been anywhere near Tanaka’s drinks that day.”

“By the way,” Greg said, “I heard from Rob Rios, the coach of the Vipers.”

That got my attention.

“He confirmed,” Greg continued, “that Peter usually brought and drank his own sports drink during games and practices, sometimes supplementing it with water supplied by the team but always using his own drinking bottles.”

“Who filled them for Tanaka?”

“Coach Rios said Tanaka usually brought a few pre-filled bottles and if he ran out, he refilled them himself from a larger jug in his van.”

“Which we already knew.”

I looked out the window, watching scenery fly by that I’d watched going in the opposite direction just a few hours earlier. “So both Ann and June Tanaka would have had access to the jug and water bottles, but not on the last day of the tournament.”

“The mother is definitely on my list,” Greg said dryly. “I’d bet if both Ann and Peter are out of the way, she’d get all their money. She could have hired someone to put the poison in the jug.”

I shivered. “I know mothers have been known to kill their kids before, but she seemed obsessed with Peter. It’s hard to believe she’d remove him from her life permanently, considering she was having trouble cutting the apron strings. Besides, Dev said Martinez looked into both of them.”

“If they’re clean, then my money is on someone else Tanaka might have been blackmailing, and Miranda got in the middle of it somehow.”

“That’s a good possibility, honey, but he could have been blackmailing most anyone. Maybe we can ask some of the players tomorrow.”

Greg nodded his agreement, then said, “I found out something else from Coach Rios.”

Again I looked at my husband with interest.

“Seems he and many of the players weren’t happy with Tanaka’s unsportsmanlike behavior during the tournament. Rios told me he was going to call a team meeting to vote him off the Vipers.”

“Maybe one of his teammates took things into their own hands.”

“Could be, but when I asked how Tanaka got along with the other Vipers, Rios said in general Tanaka was well liked and made an effort to get along, almost like he was trying hard to make it work.”

I snorted. “Tanaka probably realized if he failed on the Vipers, he’d have a lot of trouble playing for any team again.”

“He did love the sport,” Greg commented. “Not being able to play would have really been a big blow to him. He would have to move someplace that had a team where he wasn’t well known.”

Still holding my cell phone, I scrolled through the photos taken last weekend. Tears welled in my eyes when I reached one in particular.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

I sniffed back the tears. “I was just looking through photos from last weekend.” I showed him the one that had stopped me cold. It was of Miranda and Rocky together, smiling for the camera. “It’s so difficult to believe that they are both gone in such a short time.”

Greg reached over and patted my knee softly. “I know, sweetheart.”

Lunch was great, if somber. We both wolfed down burgers and sweet potato fries along with cold beer. After, we sat sipping espresso while holding hands and watching the ocean across the street. It was chilly outside, but we’d opted for dining on their patio near one of their outdoor heaters so we could do just this and so we wouldn’t have to leave Wainwright in the van. The loyal dog was currently sleeping under our table.

Our peace and quiet was short-lived when Greg’s phone rang. “I’ll bet that’s the shop,” I said, with the realization that our slice of quiet was coming to an end.

“It’s not the shop’s number,” he said, looking at the display. “It’s Lance.” He answered and soon after said, “See you soon.”

When the call ended, Greg paid the check. “Lance wants to talk. He’s coming to the shop around closing time,” he told me. “Do you want to go home or sit in on the meeting? I’m sure he won’t mind, but I know you’re exhausted.”

Exhausted, still not showered, and wearing my morning walking getup, I felt grimy and disgusting but said, “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

Greg winked at me. “I knew you’d say that.”

Ocean Breeze Graphics closed at four on Saturdays. I holed up in Greg’s office until then, playing with my scribbled notes and trying to fit together the pieces while Greg finished his workday.

Another possibility that came to my mind was that Miranda was killed by whoever handled her call-girl bookings. Dev had told us that the evidence had suggested she worked alone, but if that was true, how did she make contact with potential clients? Prior clients could be booked as repeat business, but what about the marketing end of things for new clients? I wrote
contacts?
under Miranda’s name on the sheet I was scribbling on. She might have been killed by her competition or by the competition’s handlers. But if so, who killed Peter Tanaka, and were the two deaths connected? Maybe someone was watching Miranda, looking for a chance to find her alone and vulnerable. After fleeing the game, she might have been distracted long enough for someone to stalk and kill her.

Around four o’clock Greg wheeled into his office with Lance Henderson. He looked even more haggard than he had when we’d last seen him a few days before. I got up and went to him, giving him a warm hug. “I’m so sorry,” I said in a soft voice.

He hugged me back. “Thanks, Odelia. And thanks for letting me come by. I wanted to talk to you guys and needed to get out of the house for a bit.”

“Take a seat, Lance,” I told him, indicating one of the chairs Greg kept for visitors. I took the other. “How are your parents doing?”

“As well as can be expected,” Lance said, running a hand over the stubble on his face. He looked like he hadn’t shaved or showered in a week. “My mom had to be sedated after Rocky died. My dad just stares into space. You know, after Rocky survived his accident, the last thing they expected was for him to die like this.”

There was a moment of silence, then Greg asked, “Can I get you something, Lance? I have some beer, soft drinks, and water.”

“No, thanks,” Lance said. He fidgeted, then asked, “Have you heard that they’ve ruled Miranda’s death a suicide too?”

“Yes,” I told him, “but we’re still not sure that’s true.” I didn’t want to tell him about what Carlos had seen, at least not yet. I exchanged looks with Greg, noticing he seemed to be on the same page. “We both have a gut feeling something’s missing.”

“Yeah, me too,” Lance said, looking down at his shoes. “Like maybe why she was working as a hooker?” He looked up. “That just about killed my folks when they found out. All this has been way beyond their understanding.”

“What about
your
understanding?” Greg asked. “I’m sure the cops told you they found a stash of money and travel information in Miranda’s car, along with suitcases of expensive, flashy clothing.”

“I knew Rocky and Miranda were having a rough time of it and had been for a while,” he told us. “Rocky’s business was failing. He was moving heaven and earth to keep it afloat.”

“We heard that,” Greg said. “He had asked to speak with me after the tournament, but we never got the chance. Do you think it was about that?”

“Yeah, it was,” Lance said. “I had suggested that he pick your brain for advice since you’ve been so successful with Ocean Breeze.”

I had a delicate question to ask and swallowed before voicing it. “Do you think Rocky knew anything about Miranda’s side business? Maybe she was doing it to get them over their financial problems.”

“No way,” answered Lance. “I know he’d asked her to try to pick up more hours at the dental office or to find another job with more hours, but she never did.” He looked at each of us. “Did you know that they separated several months back?”

“No,” I answered for the both of us.

“It didn’t last long, but it was longer than the other times,” Lance told us. “They’d actually split up several times before, just for a few weeks at a time, but kept getting back together. They kept it pretty quiet; even my folks didn’t know. I kept telling Rocky that Miranda was no good for him, but he loved her and kept taking her back.”

“What was the problem?” Greg asked.

“Miranda was never satisfied,” Lance said. “She was always wanting bigger and better. They got underwater in their house because she wanted a fancier place than they could afford. They were about to lose it when this happened. They were going to move in with me until they got back on their feet. I’ll bet Miranda was going to leave before that ever happened. It would be like her to cut and run when Rocky needed her most. Even my mother told him before he married her that she thought Miranda was immature.” Lance ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, from what the cops told me, the money she had stashed in her car would have been enough to keep the wolves from their door. She must have been working on her back a long time and saving almost every penny. But did she give any of that to help my brother? Not a damn cent that I knew of.”

It occurred to me that maybe losing Miranda wasn’t Rocky’s only reason for wanting to check out. His business and his marriage were failing. He was losing his home, and Peter Tanaka had probably landed the final blow by telling him his wife was a call girl. I shut my eyes, thinking of all the pain and stress Rocky was shouldering in silence.

“Did you know that Peter Tanaka was blackmailing Miranda?” Greg asked.

He nodded. “The police told me they think that was the case. Their theory is that Miranda had arranged to meet Tanaka at his van between games for a payoff, and she took the opportunity to slip him the poison. But when Tanaka used her secret to get the upper hand in the game, she fled, then killed herself.”

That made no sense to me, even if I didn’t know about what Carlos had seen. “But why kill herself?” I asked. “I would have just driven home as fast as I could, grabbed my own car with the cash and my stuff, which was already packed, and hit the road.”

“Guilty conscience, maybe?” suggested Lance.

I knew better. If Miranda felt guilty it was because her husband might have found out her secret. I still wasn’t buying that she killed Peter Tanaka.

“And what if Miranda didn’t commit suicide or kill Tanaka?” asked Greg.

Lance gave a shrug that was slow and heavy. “So what? It won’t bring my brother back, will it? As far as I’m concerned, both Miranda and I have Rocky’s blood on our hands. I let him know I had a gun in the house, and she gave him a reason to pull the trigger.”

“This was not your fault, Lance,” Greg told him with conviction. “Not your fault at all.”

Lance gave a half shrug that let us know he didn’t believe it. “What I really wanted to talk to you about,” Lance said, “was the funeral—or, rather, funerals. We’re contacting as many people as we can, but it’s tough. Could you guys contact Rocky’s team and any other athletes you think would want to know and tell them? The service for both Miranda and Rocky will be held at the Congregational Church in Corona del Mar at ten o’clock on Wednesday morning.” He got to his feet like an old man. “I’ll text you the exact address and details tonight.”