9 Hell on Wheels (22 page)

Twenty-six

We didn’t go home.
Instead, we stayed put, agreeing that it seemed unlikely that Kevin left the game just to sit on his butt at home. Either he was packing and about to hit the road or maybe he was waiting for whomever he called. Maybe it was both.

“My money is on Ann Tanaka showing up,” Greg said, taking a sip of water from the bottle he kept in the console’s cup holder.

“Who will show up first?” I asked my hubs. “Ann or Detective Martinez?”

“If it was Ann who Kevin called and she left Altadena immediately, she should be here soon.” He opened his door and grabbed for his wheelchair, which was stashed behind his seat.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To talk to Kevin,” he said, setting up the chair and swinging his butt into it. “I’m getting to the bottom of this once and for all.”

“Not without me you’re not.” I started to get out of the van.

“No, stay here,” he told me, talking across the front seat of the van. “See if Ann shows up or Martinez.”

“Not on your life,” I told him. “If Kevin is involved with Peter and Miranda’s murders, I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

“And if he is,” Greg snapped back at me, “I’m not letting you near him.”

“Let’s not forget that I took a ride with a contract killer yesterday.”

“Yeah, and your luck is running out, Odelia. Let’s not press it any more than we need to.”

Ignoring him, I got out of the van, but as soon as my feet hit the curb I heard Elaine telling me that one day I’d pay for being on the side of right all the time. Maybe she was right. Maybe Greg was right.

“What if he pulls a gun on you?” I asked Greg.

“He could pull a gun on both of us,” was his response. “I’d rather he only have one target.”

“No sale.” I stuck my cell phone in a pocket, then lowered my window a few inches to give Wainwright air and shut the door behind me. I stood on the curb waiting for Greg, clearly not budging until he gave in on the matter.

Greg took a deep breath and said something under his breath, then something to Wainwright. After closing his door, he locked the van and set the alarm. The beep of the alarm sounded like a final high-pitched swear word.

The complex Kevin lived in was large and nicely landscaped and made up of both single and two-story buildings. It had to be an older complex. Newer ones weren’t being built with this much green space or in single stories. With Greg leading the way, we moved along the wide sidewalk until we reached the pool area. Greg stopped and looked around. “It’s one of these along here to the right,” he whispered. “The carports are in the back.”

I trotted ahead, looking over the front doors for clues or names, finally pointing to one that had a ramp built where normally a few steps up to the entrance would be.

“I think you’re right,” Greg said, joining me.

“If we ring the bell,” I asked, “what are the chances he’ll make for the back and get away while we stand here?”

“Could happen,” he said.

“Why don’t I go around back and so he can’t escape that way?”

I could tell Greg didn’t want me out of his sight. He didn’t mind if I was out of sight in the van, just not out of sight nosing around. Finally, he said, “Okay, but if he does come out the back, don’t get in his way if he’s armed, and keep your cell phone on.”

“Give me a minute before you ring the bell,” I said, taking off down the sidewalk to the end of the building. I went around the back to the driveway that led to the carports. The townhouses in this section were all single story and had a double-covered carport and a gate leading to a back patio. I spotted Kevin’s vehicle in its cubby and waited. On his back gate was a painted arts and crafts sign that read
not handicapped, handicapable
. I waited by the sign. A few minutes later I heard Greg say, “Come on in, Odelia. It’s okay.” About the same time, the gate to the back of Kevin’s place opened and Kevin invited me in.

We stood by the kitchen table just inside the back sliding door. If Kevin had a weapon nearby, I didn’t see it.

“I was just on my way out,” he told us. He seemed edgy and brittle, with none of his usual confidence. On the table was a duffle bag half filled with clothing. A shaving kit and other clothing were waiting to be packed.

“Where are you going in such a rush?” Greg asked.

“I need to go to my parents. They live in Ojai. It’s a family emergency.” He looked at Greg, then me, and said, “Hey, isn’t Odelia’s mom sick?”

“Our family emergency is just as fake as yours, Kevin,” Greg confessed.

“Did you call Ann Tanaka before you left the gym today?” I asked, not giving him time to process our lie.

“No, I didn’t,” he said, a bit too quickly. “Why would I call her?”

“To give her a heads-up that the police will soon know that she was at the tournament when her brother died,” Greg said.

“Ann wasn’t there,” Kevin stressed, looking from me to Greg again. “She was nowhere near there. She was playing tennis that day.” His face grew red as he tried to convince us.

“Someone must have lied to the police about her alibi because we have a photo of you and Ann arguing,” Greg told him. “The San Diego police have it now.”

“That wasn’t Ann,” Kevin said. “It was…it was someone else.” He grabbed the clothing still on the table between his two open palms, using his damaged hands like salad tongs, and forced it into the duffle. He did the same with the shaving kit. “Now I have to go. Really, guys, we should all go.”

Greg rolled close to him, using his own wheelchair to block Kevin’s path. “How are you involved with Tanaka and Miranda’s deaths?”

Kevin’s eyes popped. “I’m not involved. Not at all. How can you even think that?”

“The woman you were arguing with in San Diego was involved. We believe it’s Ann and that she killed both of them.”

Kevin shook his head back and forth hard, like a dog shaking off water. “No. Ann would never do a thing like that any more than I would.” The passion in his voice was strong and assured.

I moved closer to Kevin. “Are you involved romantically with Ann Tanaka?”

Kevin closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he slowly nodded. “Yes, we’ve been secretly dating off and on for several years. It started right before Peter took off for Canada. Her mother doesn’t approve, so it’s tough. She thinks we broke it off a long time ago.”

“But what about the other women you’re seen with?” I prodded.

“These days they’re mostly friends helping me cover up my relationship with Ann.” He glanced nervously through the living room and out the front window like he was expecting someone. “Like I said, Ann and I have been off and on in secret for a long time. We broke it off again when Peter returned from Canada.”

“I take it he didn’t approve either,” said Greg.

“Not really. The mother has a problem with me not being Japanese—at least that’s what she says. Peter had a problem with his sister being with a gimp.” He scoffed. “Strange, huh? He’s good enough for the women he dates, but I’m not good enough for his sister.” He took several deep breaths before continuing. “I begged her to move in with me when Peter showed up again. He smacked her around. Did you know that? He did it for years.”

Greg and I nodded, almost in unison.

“That monster of a mother of hers wouldn’t lift a finger to stop it. It wasn’t so bad when Peter went to Canada; then Ann only had to deal with her mother treating her like a slave.” Another deep breath. “I begged her to come live with me and not look back. I told her I’d protect her.”

“Why didn’t she?” I asked.

Kevin smacked his dining table with his fist. “Because of the damn money! There’s a trust her father set up. She and Peter were to come into the money in just a couple of months.”

I stepped forward, curious about an idea that had just occurred to me. “But why couldn’t she move in with you until the trust matured?”

Kevin rubbed his hands over his face. “Because the mother controls the trust, and she didn’t want Ann leaving her and being happy.” He took another deep breath, as if each explanation was a punch to his gut. “There’s a morals clause of some kind in the trust,” he told us. “If Mrs. Tanaka feels either child is behaving in a way to bring shame on the family, she can extend the maturity of the trust by five years.”

“If that was the case, why wasn’t Peter penalized?” Greg asked. “He’s done all kinds of things to shame the Tanaka name, including blackmail and drug charges.”

“Because, honey,” I told Greg as the pieces fell together for me, “that’s her hold on him. I’m thinking it’s probably why he came back to California. After she bailed his butt out on the Canadian drug charge, she probably told him he had to come back or forfeit the trust for five years.”

Kevin was nodding. “That’s pretty close to what’s going on. The way I understand it, she would have done anything to keep Peter close to her. I wouldn’t even put it past Mrs. Tanaka to enforce the clause anyway. Meanwhile, Ann has been towing the line, playing the dutiful daughter, trying to get to her next birthday and to the money. I’ve told her over and over that I don’t care about the money; we’ll be just fine without it. But she feels it’s all she has left of her father. She feels she’s earned it in some sick way and is refusing to leave home without it.”

“Ann told us pretty much the same thing,” Greg said. I could see from his face that it was falling together for him too. “She said she was going to leave as soon as she came into her inheritance.”

“Yes,” Kevin confirmed. “She was leaving Southern California. In a few months I would follow, and we’d get married.” For the first time, a small smile crossed his lips. “My parents love Ann. They can’t wait to welcome her into the family.”

“So it was Mrs. Tanaka who killed Peter and Miranda.” I said it not as a question but as a statement.

“I honestly don’t know,” Kevin told us. “But I wouldn’t put it past the old witch. Ann told me that Peter was leaving town as soon as he got his inheritance, too. Even though he smacked Ann around, he was also close to her.” He looked at us with disgust. “It’s sick, I know.”

“Did you know that Peter Tanaka was blackmailing Miranda Henderson about being a call girl?” Greg asked.

“Not until this past week,” he told us. “When I asked Ann about it, she said she knew but didn’t want to tell me, knowing Rocky was a friend of mine. She was also worried that her brother would go after me if he thought I knew. Even though we were friends, he could be pretty vindictive. He was particularly mad about not getting back on the Lunatics.” He sighed. “As for Rocky and Miranda, I knew they’d had some problems, but nothing as bad as it turned out to be.”

Greg rolled his chair back to allow Kevin more movement. Kevin moved his wheelchair deeper into the living room so he could keep watch out the window. Like most homes where a resident is in a chair, it was uncluttered, with wide spaces in which to navigate. We followed, and I took a seat on the edge of the sofa, perching carefully instead of getting comfortable just in case I needed to move quickly.

“How did you come across June Tanaka at the tournament?” Greg asked Kevin.

“It was a fluke, really,” he explained, still nervously glancing out the front window.

“Is Ann on her way here?” I asked, noticing how antsy he was.

“Yes,” Kevin admitted. He looked at me. “You’re right. I did call her after I heard about the photo of me with her mother. I told her it was just a matter of time before her mother was hauled away by the cops and to get out of the house now because there’s no telling what that crazy woman would do once cornered. She finally agreed with me and is coming here. Then we’re going to my parents’ house.”

“In Ojai?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you know that Mrs. Tanaka killed Peter?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not right off. When I saw her last Sunday, I’d gone out to my Jeep to get something and she was crossing the parking lot. At first I thought it was Ann and called to her, but when she turned around I saw it was Mrs. Tanaka.” He lifted an arm up and swiped at his hair. “I wish I’d never seen her. She came up to me and started yelling at me to stay away from Ann. In fact, she told me she was there specifically to tell me she knew what was going on and for me to leave her daughter alone or else. I really thought that was why she was there, at least until Peter died. But even after he died, I thought it might just be a coincidence because of all the evidence against Miranda. But now I know I was just being a fool. I didn’t want to believe someone would kill their own child.”

Greg pounded a fist on his knee and nearly shouted. “Why didn’t you tell the police about Mrs. Tanaka?”

“Because,” Kevin explained, his voice twisted in anguish, “she threatened to hurt Ann if I told anyone that she was there or about our conversation, including Ann.” He moved his arms around with uncurbed restlessness. “I didn’t tell Ann about it until I called her today. Until now I think Ann always thought Miranda killed Peter.”

“Not anymore. I made sure she knew the truth.”

All three of us turned to the figure that had slipped silently in through the back door while we were talking in the living room. It was a slender middle-aged woman with black hair, wearing jeans and a gray hooded sweatshirt. She moved like a cat burglar, deliberately and with stealth. In her hands was a gun.

Twenty-seven

“Ann’s not here, Mrs.
Tanaka,” Kevin said, turning his wheelchair to face the crazy woman.

“I know that,” June Tanaka said. Her lips immediately pressed together into a tight red slash. “I managed to talk some sense into her. She sent me to tell you she’s not coming and to leave her alone.”

“What have you done to her?” Kevin screamed at her. He rolled forward but stopped short when Mrs. Tanaka leveled the gun at his chest.

“We had a little mother-daughter chat, and mother always knows best.”

“Put the gun down, Mrs. Tanaka,” Greg told her, inching his chair forward a few inches. “Let’s discuss this.”

“Stay where you are, Mr. Stevens,” Mrs. Tanaka told him, “or I might have to kill your wife as a warning.” The gun was now aimed at my chest. I held my breath, then let it out, nice and slow.

“It’s clear it was you who slipped into Peter’s van and put the cyanide into his water jug,” I said, staying put. “But why? You seemed to adore your son.”

“Because he was going to leave me again,” she explained. “The night before he left for San Diego, I confronted him about his plans. We argued.” With her free hand she lifted the front of the sweatshirt to expose a trim belly with several large bruises. They reminded me of Steele’s injuries but weren’t quite as bad. “I can abide many things, but I will not tolerate this.”

“He hit you?” I asked.

“We argued. Then Peter cornered me and started punching. He didn’t stop until I hit him over the head with a book I grabbed from a shelf.”

“Where was Ann?” asked Kevin

“Not home. Probably out whoring around.” She gave Kevin an icy-cold look of accusation. “And even if she was home, I doubt she would have stopped it.”

I wanted to feel sympathy for June Tanaka but was having trouble mustering any. She’d created the monster that was Peter Tanaka, and she had let him slap Ann around for years. I wondered if the irony had occurred to Mrs. Tanaka that she had been attacked by her beloved house pet that she’d personally trained.

“But why did you have to kill Miranda Henderson?” asked Greg. “She did nothing to you.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” she explained, lowering her sweatshirt. “After I left Peter’s van, I crouched behind a car and watched and listened as the Henderson woman and Peter met.” She cackled. “I almost ran into that dimwit whose wife plays rugby. He was also spying on them but gave up after a few minutes.” She continued to hold the gun steady on me. “Miranda handed Peter an envelope, then helped him refill his sports bottles while they talked—actually, argued. She told Peter she was leaving town and this would be her last payment. He said he would go to her husband, and she told him she didn’t care anymore. Frankly, I didn’t know if she was stupid or simple, helping her blackmailer like that with his chores, but what better fool to take the fall? Especially after leaving her fingerprints all over the place.”

“But why kill her if you’d already set her up?” I asked, pushing for answers.

“Same reason I threatened to hurt Ann if Kevin talked: she saw me,” Mrs. Tanaka explained. “Miranda didn’t see me in the van but near it and soon enough after I left the poison to be suspicious and tell the police after Peter died. I couldn’t have that.” She edged closer to us all, moving the gun from me to Kevin. “While everyone was in the gym watching the game, I went back to Peter’s van and got his gun.”

“Keys.” Greg said the word in a simple sharp tone. “You had Peter’s extra keys.”

“Of course. I knew where he kept the spares for both his van and the vault in his van and made good use of them.” She paused and took a deep breath, almost a cleansing yoga breath. After, a small, peaceful smile crossed her lips. The woman had clearly popped a mental wheelie.

“I saw Miranda go to her husband’s van after she left Peter, so I knew which one it was. Before I could approach her, she went inside to watch the game. I waited, not sure what to do but knowing I had to do something. Then everything fell in place.” Another peaceful smile. “Miranda conveniently came rushing out of the gym, crying hysterically, and hopped into the van. While she fumbled to get it going, I jumped into the passenger’s side with the gun and told her to drive. She had no idea it would be her last trip until it happened.” Mrs. Tanaka paused and pursed her red lips. “Pretty but not a very bright girl. It’s almost ludicrous to think that vain, flighty thing was smart enough to plan a murder.”

“You must have had an accomplice,” Greg said to her. “How did you get back to where you parked your own car?”

Mrs. Tanaka shook her head. “You underestimate me, Mr. Stevens. I’m in pretty good shape. Although my bruises made it more difficult, I simply jogged a short ways to where I could catch a cab back to where I left my car. Which, by the way, was nowhere near the gymnasium but in another part of Balboa Park.”

It was becoming clear it was a standoff—three of us but only one of her. The gun tipped the scales in her favor. She could have easily nailed all three of us with three quick blasts before any of us reached her. The men were in wheelchairs and I was slow on my feet. We stood before her like ducks in a carnival shooting gallery just waiting to be picked off so she could claim a prize. We had to stall and hope Martinez was on his way and hadn’t just made Kevin a tic on his calendar for follow-up tomorrow.

“I don’t get it,” I said, spreading my hands out in front of me. “How did someone like you get hold of cyanide, anyway? It’s not like it’s on sale at Target, two for five dollars.” I used the same sarcastic line Steele had used on me and hoped it didn’t cause her to start shooting. What I hoped it would do was appeal to her obvious need to be in control and smarter than everyone else. Kevin stared at me with wide eyes, sure I’d signed his death warrant. What I could have told him and didn’t was that his death was a sure thing if we didn’t do something drastic.

When I saw a smirk cross June Tanaka’s face, I knew I’d bought us some time—probably not much but some. “It’s amazing what you have laying around the house after years and years,” she said to me, “even cyanide. My late husband was a jeweler. He utilized it quite often in his work. Of course, now jewelers don’t, but years ago they did quite often. Some even died from exposure to it in the workplace.” She winked at me. I noticed she wasn’t gripping the gun as tightly now that she was in a chatty and bragging mood. I hoped Greg noticed that too.

“Your husband,” I said, continuing with the topic. “Did he die of cyanide exposure?”

She gave a shrug. “It happens, even to those who are careful.”

At that point my cell phone rang.

“What’s that?” Mrs. Tanaka asked.

“It’s my cell phone,” I told her. “It’s in my pocket.”

“Let it ring,” she told me.

“People will be expecting us,” Greg told her, picking up on my stall tactics. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

“Let them wonder,” she said.

“If I don’t answer,” I said, “they will know something’s wrong. I always answer my phone. ”

“They’ll find out soon enough on the evening news.” Again she graced us with a small smile. My blood stopped flowing, and I felt my head would explode from the backup.

She waved the gun at me. “You—you’re coming with me.”

I pointed a finger at myself. “Me? You’re taking me hostage?”

“More for insurance.”

Greg edged forward a little. “Please, Mrs. Tanaka, take me instead.”

“Sorry, Mr. Stevens, but from my experience wheelchairs aren’t convenient for getaways.” She looked at me. “Dump that phone and come over here, and don’t try anything or I’ll shoot your husband dead in front of your eyes.”

Slowly I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dropped it to the wood floor. It landed with a clunk. Then, with a quick glance at Greg, I started walking slowly toward June Tanaka. To get to her I had to pass Kevin, who was positioned closest to her. I approached Mrs. Tanaka like a woman heading for the electric chair, walking that long last mile instead of a few yards. Kevin stared at me, frightened, tight jawed, and wild eyed. I begged him with my eyes not to do anything stupid. I even shook my head the teeniest, tiniest bit trying to get my point across. Whatever went down, him playing hero right now might only make it worse.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the memo.

Like Mrs. Tanaka said, wheelchairs aren’t convenient for getaways. While they could be fast on the hardwood floor of a gymnasium or on smooth pavement, they took time to gain momentum, especially if the person in it doesn’t have full use of his hands. Using his wrists and forearms, Kevin rolled his chair at Mrs. Tanaka as hard as he could. What he did have in his favor was the element of surprise. With her focus on me and Greg and on getting out of the place with me as insurance, she’d almost forgotten about Kevin or had dismissed him as not being a threat.

Just before I passed him, Kevin bumped me out of the way and headed for June Tanaka, plowing into her like she was an opponent on the rugby court. She didn’t go down completely but was knocked off-balance as he clipped her legs with his chair. As he passed her, Kevin wrapped his powerful arms around her torso and hung on, trying to wrestle her to the ground. She was right. She was in good shape and stronger than she looked. Her right hand, the one with the gun, wiggled free and gestured wildly in the struggle, looking to take aim at something.

“Get the gun, Odelia,” shouted Greg.

Even before the words were out of my husband’s mouth, I lunged after the tangle of metal and flesh that was Kevin and Mrs. Tanaka. Kicking one of her legs from under her, I gave Kevin the leverage he needed to drop the woman onto the floor. I threw myself on top of her, trying to pin her, and grabbed at her gun hand.

Under me June Tanaka was a madwoman possessed by the devil, writhing, kicking, and screaming with unexpected strength. The whole place was alive with screams and shouts—loud enough, I hoped, to bring help. Kevin and Greg surrounded us, trying to help. Mrs. Tanaka got off a powerful and lucky jab with a sharp knee that landed in my soft middle, causing me to double up. She wiggled away from me and kicked again, this time with a foot, knocking the wind out of me. I rolled off her, gasping for air. Then her foot came down in my face, but instead of hitting me square in the middle, it glanced off the side of my nose and left cheek, scraping the skin and making me scream in pain. She aimed the gun at me, but before she could pull the trigger, Greg launched himself at her from his wheelchair, pulling her down to the floor again. They rolled around until he was on top of her, using his powerful upper body strength to subdue her. She screeched and flailed. Kevin was rolling his chair into the melee, trying to use the wheels to strike her, but with little success.

I struggled to get to my feet or at least to my knees to help. Blood was gushing from my nose. I swiped at it with the back of one hand and gathered myself for the next attack. I looked in time to see Greg make a grab for the gun still clutched in Mrs. Tanaka’s hand as if welded there permanently. And that’s when I heard the shots. There were two of them.

Everything went silent, like in a slow-motion movie sequence. One of the shots had gone wild and hit the flat screen TV on the wall, shattering it. The other had hit flesh. I watched in horror as my darling husband—my life—grabbed his chest and fell off of the madwoman.

A scream rose in my throat like burning bile—a single word scorching its way upward like a firestorm, expelled in horror and disbelief. “
Greg!
”