Death at a Fixer-Upper (18 page)

His eyes met mine with that steady gaze. “I'm going to level with you, Sam. All I know is Richie asked me to swing by and pick them up. I pull up to the strip mall and the three of them come running. There's a guy down on the ground. We lit out of there and went to Richie's place. They had a garbage bag of cash. Sweet Jesus. One hundred and seventeen thousand four hundred dollars in big bills. The number's burned into my brain. Doesn't seem like a lot today, but it meant everything back then. Clothes. Cars. A way out.”

“A way out from what?”

He blinked. “Nothing. Not what I meant to say. Anyway, they decided they should lay low, maybe take a trip out of town and split up the money then. They moved the cash to a duffel bag.”

“And then?”

“Not thirty seconds later, the police broke down the door. Me and Richie and Ray were down on the floor in cuffs and leg shackles. One of the scariest moments of my life. Vito went out the bathroom window. We didn't see him take the money, but it was gone.”

I pushed myself off the bunker wall and paced around. “You think he came to California. To Arlinda.”

He nodded. “Vito came from here. He was always talking about the family estate in California. His mom, she was the old guy's niece. She moved East when Vito was fifteen and died a few years later of cirrhosis. But while she was alive she filled him with stories about his rich great-uncle. He figured he had a big inheritance coming his way.”

“What about you?”

Again with the eyes, clear as glass. “They dismissed most of the charges against me, but I got stuck with aiding and abetting and did a little time in jail just like I told you. Richie and Ray, they had them on video from inside the bank, and Richie'd hit a guy. They went to state prison. Loretta went back to work at the bank and stayed there until it closed a year later. The manager never said a word—didn't want to lose his job. I hit the road. I needed to make a fresh start.”

“Come off it. You figured Vito was headed west and you followed him.” I lined up the times in my head. It all fit. I'd met Wayne just about fifteen years ago, at a coffee shop in downtown Arlinda. He'd been charming, handsome, a little dangerous. Very attractive. We'd married a few months later, a small service: just family, a justice of the peace, and each other. I looked him over appraisingly. Very little remained of the man I'd known back then. He'd lived hard and fast.

He noticed me looking and flashed me a smile. This time I let it roll off me.

“Guess that brings us up to the pizza,” I said.

“I really loved you, you know.”

Red dots began to dance in front of my eyes. I bit back the response that rose to my lips and said, “Just finish the story.”

“You won't understand.”

“Try me.”

“I had to protect you,” he said. “You and Max.”

I gave a bark of laughter. “Oh, that's perfect. Mr. Nobility.”

“See?”

“Okay, okay. Protect us from what?”

He stared at the ground, his lips moving.

“What? I didn't catch that.”

“Loretta,” he said. “I saw her. The night I went for pizza. In Arlinda. I knew she was there looking for me.”

“Well, why shouldn't she? You being old friends and all.”

“She would have killed me if she'd found me. And maybe hurt you and Max. I hopped a bus and left town. You'd kept your name, so I figured you'd be safe. I'd have led her back to you if I'd stayed.”

“I don't buy it. I've met her. She's no killer.”

“Open your eyes,” he said. “You've seen what she wants you to see. Who do you think killed Richie and Ray?”

Loretta? I thought of the dark-haired woman who'd dropped off the gift basket. And she was certainly on the spot when Ray was killed. Still…

“I'm having a hard time with this,” I said.

“You don't know her like I do.”

“Oh? And how is that?” My God, was I
jealous
? I made a mental note to go for electric shock therapy as soon as I could fit it into my busy schedule.

“She was just part of the crowd. What about Max?”

“You got a lot of nerve.”

“I have to see him.”

“Why?”

He drew a deep breath. “He was everything to me. It felt like my heart'd been ripped out of my chest when I left him. I never stopped thinking about him.” A water droplet trickled from the corner of his eye. A tear? No, moisture that'd collected in his hair. The brief respite was over; a storm was coming.

I opened my mouth to speak but didn't get the chance. Loretta Sacchi strolled around the bunker wall. Her left hand was resting in her pocket in a way that made my stomach clench.

“Sorry to interrupt this happy little reunion,” she said. “But I have some business to take care of.”

The color drained from Wayne's face. He looked at me. “You said you weren't followed.”

“Oh, I didn't follow Sam,” she said. “I followed you. I picked you up at the corner of Bay and South G. You bummed a ride from a blue pickup all the way to Salmon Bay, then walked the last couple miles. I parked at the Coast Guard station and watched you go by.”

“Shit,” he said.

Loretta laughed. Even here, in the sand and mist, she was smartly dressed, wearing a coffee-colored silk jacket that was belted at the waist. Her feet were in black patent-leather boots with a three-inch spiked heel. She saw me looking and made a face.

“What's with this climate?” she asked me. “I don't get it. You couldn't pay me to live here.” To Wayne she said, “You owe me a new pair of boots. I'll never get the sand outta these.”

He edged away. “What do you want?”

“Hard to say. Maybe to set the record straight. And pay a few old debts.” Her hand shifted in her pocket and my heart jumped in my chest.

Loretta turned to me. “Oh, by the way, I suppose this is the right time to sever our professional relationship.”

“Consider it done. Sorry things didn't work out.”

“Oh, but they did. At least for me. Not for my friends, I'm afraid. But they weren't the brightest coins in the fountain. Never were.”

“I guess you and your, uh, associates came to Arlinda together,” I said cautiously, watching to see if her mood changed. So far she seemed amiable enough, for a stone-cold killer.

“You ever see that movie with Sid Caesar and Spencer Tracy? The one where everyone's racing to California to find money under the big W? That was Richie's great plan, if you can believe it. Our fearless leader. What a jerk. Treated himself to a posh bed-and-breakfast while the rest of us bunked at the Motel 6. He's the one who came up with our cover stories. I told him no one would swallow mine, but he said real estate agents were brainless bottom-feeders, blind to everything but their commission. He was right about that, anyway.” She smiled at me.

“Now just a minute. I—”

She waved me off. “Whatever. So that was the grand scheme. We'd all come to town. The boys wanted that money. They'd earned it, after doing their time. We figured Vito must have stashed it somewhere on the estate before he disappeared. Imagine my surprise when I spotted Wayne here. Guess he was thinking along the same lines. It didn't take a genius to figure out he was keeping an eye on you, so I talked the boys into hiring you as our agent. That was a kick.”

“You were searching the house.”

“From top to bottom. The lady who lives there, she doesn't leave much. So we handled it this way. Richie let me and Ray in and we went through the first floor. Then Ray and Richie searched upstairs while I kept you occupied. We had to lay low for an hour after that, since Ray couldn't get the one o'clock time slot. What a baboon.”

“Which one of you killed him?”

She reared back in mock horror. “Sorry to disappoint, but it wasn't me. It wasn't Richie, either. We were cooling our heels in the bushes.”

“Who, then?”

She shrugged. “Never saw a soul. I thought it was an accident.”

“You find the money?” Wayne said.

“Not a trace.”

“Vito probably used it to run to Mexico.”

She shook her head. “Doubtful. The police tried to track him down. Believe me, they wanted him found. Eventually they stopped looking. I hired an ex-security guy I knew to do a search and he came up with nothing. No bank records, credit-card applications, major purchases. His driver's license had expired and he never renewed it.” She snorted in disgust. “I could kill that little prick.”

Some of the color had returned to Wayne's cheeks. “That's what happened, isn't it?”

“What?”

“You did find him. And killed him.”

She threw back her head and laughed.

“Come off it,” he persisted. “You were here in town not long after he disappeared. I saw you.”

“True. But I wasn't looking for Vito. I was looking for you.” She turned her cool gaze to me. “I suppose our friend here has told you his sad story.”

“I'm guessing he left some stuff out.”

“Maybe you're smarter than you look. Did you ask him why he got off so light?”

We both looked at Wayne. He seemed to shrink in stature, pressing his body against the graffiti.

“He testified against Richie and Ray,” she said. “They gave him immunity for that.”

I shrugged. Nothing would surprise me at this point.

“And then he left town,” she said. “Cut and run. That's always been his style.”

A little warning bell went off in my head. “That's true enough. But how do you know that?”

“Because,” she said, “he's my husband.”

I couldn't possibly have heard her right. “He's what?”

“My husband. As in married. For going on twenty years now, not that I'm expecting a candlelight dinner for our china anniversary.”

“But that's not possible. He was married to me.”

Her lips curved in a cruel smile. “One little word makes it possible. Face it, honey. He's a lying sack of shit.”

I turned to Wayne and he flinched at my expression. “Tell me this isn't true.”

“Loretta swore she was getting an annulment.”

She shrugged. “Never got around to it.”

The blood was pounding in my head, echoing the dull roar of the surf. “I married you. Had a baby with you. I fucking
divorced
you.”

“This is fun,” Loretta said.

I took a step toward him. “I had to run a notice in the paper for thirty days. Send off letters to your last known hangouts and sign an affidavit stating I didn't know your whereabouts. Cost me fourteen hundred bucks.”

“I'll pay you back.”

“I raised our son alone.” Something was happening in my head: synapses fired and muscles were activated almost against my will. My vision dimmed until all I could see was the pale oval of his face. There was a blur of motion. I heard a crunching sound and a shriek. My hand throbbed.

I opened my eyes and saw Wayne on the ground, his palm clapped to his face. Blood dripped from between his fingers.

“Jesus, lady, you ever tried anger management?” Loretta said.

“I think I'm cured.” Indeed, I felt calmer than I had in years.

“You broke my nose,” Wayne said, his voice muffled.

“Don't be a baby.” I handed him a tissue from my bag.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Loretta said. “Time to take care of business.”

She pulled her hand from her pocket. No gun. She was holding a sheaf of papers.

“You remember that crummy little place we bought in the valley?” she said to Wayne. “Next door to the mini-mart?”

He nodded mutely.

“Well, I hung on to it. I lived there for a few years, then rented it out to some friends of mine. Six months ago, they tore down the mini-mart and the two houses on the other side. Turns out they want to put a shopping mall on the block. An agent called and offered me three-fifty on the spot. We only paid sixty-five.”

My real estate instincts got the better of me. “You countered, I hope.”

“Got 'em up to four and a quarter, and that's where it stands. But Wayne's name is on the deed and I need his signature on this quitclaim. Line thirty-eight.”

Wayne made a move as if to speak, but I forestalled him. “What if he doesn't want to sign?”

“Then I tell all of Richie's and Ray's relatives where to find him. And you. I'm not saying they'd do anything to you. But they're not so happy with Wayne here. Hate to say it, but they're the type to hold a grudge.”

“Maybe you'll tell them anyway,” Wayne said.

“On the contrary. I keep my word. Point of honor.”

Wayne held out his hand.

Loretta handed him the document and a pen. “Just sign where I marked there at the bottom. Try not to drip on the paper. I wouldn't want the lawyers to think you signed under duress or anything.”

“Don't sign it,” I said.

“I have to.”

“Your son may want to go to college someday.”

“We'll figure something out.” He dashed off his signature and handed the deed back to Loretta, who tucked it into her bag. I opened my mouth to tell her she'd need to have it notarized, then closed it. She wasn't my client any longer.

“Well, I'll leave you two to sort things out,” she said. She turned on her heel and was gone.

“You son of a bitch,” I said.

He held up a hand as if to ward off another blow. “I know. Believe me, I didn't want any of this. How many times can I apologize?”

I suddenly felt very weary. The wind had picked up and lashed my face. I was chilled and stiff. My knuckles needed ice.

“I'm leaving,” I said.

“Wait! Just wait.” He struggled to his feet, brushing the sand off his clothing. He dabbed at his nose, balling the used tissue up in his fist.

“If Loretta managed to follow us, someone else might be waiting,” he said. “Let me at least walk you to your car.”

“The consummate gentleman.”

He stared at the ground. “I suppose I deserve that.”

We walked to the parking lot in silence. It was deserted except for my van. Wayne examined the dented bumper and shook his head. “I'd like to know who's behind all this.”

“You and me both. Loretta was suspect numero uno in my book until ten minutes ago.”

“Don't cross her off your list just yet. Loretta's hard as nails. There's nothing she wouldn't do for money. Trust me.”

“You knowing her so well and all.”

“Don't start.” He removed one shoe and knocked the sand out of it. “I suppose if I asked for a lift to town, you'd say no.”

“You suppose correctly.” I opened the driver's door and climbed in, checking the back for any bogeymen. All clear.

He rested his hand on the door pillar and leaned in. “I need to see him.”

I just looked at him.

“Have you told him I'm in town?” he persisted.

“I told him.”

“What'd he say?”

I let out my breath with a sigh. “He wants to meet you somewhere.”

“Really?” The look on his face softened my hard little heart the tiniest bit.

“Yeah.”

“Tomorrow? At the public library?”

“He's in school till three.”

“Three-thirty, then.”

“I'll tell him. None of my business, but you might consider cleaning up a tad.”

“I'll grab a shower and shave at St. Vinnie's.” He reached out and touched my arm. His nose had the shape and hue of a canned ham, and his cheeks were puffy.

“Thank you,” he said.

I reached over and slammed the driver's door shut. He snatched his hand away just in time. The engine roared to life. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I checked my rearview mirror. He was still standing there.