Glass Houses (23 page)

“Stay with them,” said Birdie. “There are three options coming up, stay the course, take the ten east or westbound.”

But it was already too late. Once the CLS hit the straightaway of the freeway it was gone. Speed, agility, red taillights. Thom punched the steering wheel.

They rode in silence as the adrenalin burned off and Thom took the I-10 west toward the Bird House.

“At least we have something to work with,” she said. “Remember what Lawrence's aide, Gordon, told George? That Lawrence worked with councilman Fontaine on housing issues. Jelena could've easily spied for Todd. She said in the interview that living with the Lawrence's was hard. They were tough on her and she seemed resentful that the twins got away with shit. She also had opportunity to destroy the computer files and steal the flash drive.”

“Yeah, she just got upgraded from person of interest to suspect.”

forty-two

Birdie moved her eyes
from the computer monitor and looked up at Thom. “Will you please stop pacing?”

“George should've called by now. Jelena, Kidd, and Gordon all gave official statements today. We need that information.” He pointed at the board where they'd been whittling out the pieces and parts of the four crime scenes. He flipped his wrist. “It's nearly midnight.”

Yeah
, thought Birdie,
almost a new day.

“He probably thinks you're sleeping.”

“Bullshit. He'd know I'd be up.”

“Call him.”

“I did. My calls went straight to voicemail.”

“You're out on personal. Maybe he's taking that seriously.”

“All George knows is that I'm off the case. He doesn't know anything about the personal time. Craig can be a jerk, but he doesn't talk about employee matters.”

“How would Craig know?”

“Personnel forwards leave requests to supervisors for approval.”

She threw a piece of gum at him. “Chewing helps.” He ignored it and it fell to the floor.

“He's probably sleeping then,” said Birdie. “He loves his beauty sleep.”

Thom snapped his fingers. “That's right. He's probably getting laid. He and Anita, the Santa Monica detective, made a connection.”

“There you go,” said Birdie. “He'll call in the morning. Now relax. Go to bed. Sleep.”

“Too keyed up.”

“Go downstairs and sweat it out.”

Thom spread his hands as if to say,
what?
me, work out?

“I need a smoke.” He made for the door.

Birdie felt wired as well. These days she didn't have the capability to slow down. She filled hour upon hour with exercise, her search. The busywork having become a narcotic; a replacement for booze. She slept four hours on a good night. Averaged three. She was once an eight-hour gal. The hyperactivity took a physical toll. Her bloodshot eyes were in a constant state of fatigue. Headaches, muscle aches, stress in the neck, jaw pain from gum chewing. The only time she relaxed was when she was with Ron.

Ron. He never called her today.

She left Thom a note:
bath,
bed, see you in morning
.

Upstairs, she ran a hot bath, added sweet pea-scented skin softening oil and started the jets. She placed the phone on a hand towel, undressed and slipped into the blissful water and took a deep breath. She called Ron's house phone.

After a few rings he answered with a sleepy voice. “Hey, baby.”

“I woke you.”

“That's okay.”

“How'd your day go?”

“I'm too old to get wasted like that. I don't know how Noa does it.”

“He's bigger.”

“And younger by a few years.”

“There you go.” Birdie moved her right foot directly in front of the jet. It tickled.

“I'm sorry I didn't call. I spent the day on the couch in a semi-coma, TV binge.”

“Ron Hughes being lazy? I don't believe it.”

“Sounds like you're taking it easy, too. Is that the tub I hear?”

“Yeah, I'm trying to relax. Had a busy day helping Thom with his case.”

“What happened to wanting to write about the scruffy guy in the newspaper?”

“Turns out, he's connected to Thom's case and I interviewed him this evening.”

Ron chuckled. “No one can accuse you of wasting time.”

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“I'd choose you over sleep any day. What's on your mind?”

“I'm wondering how long you're going to stick around.”

Ron sniggered. “Seriously? You doubt me?”

“I've been thinking about Thom and Anne. The core of their problem is lack of intimacy.”

“Is that what you're worried about? Because we aren't having sex, I'm going to fall out of love with you or screw some barrack babe?”

“It can happen. You have physical needs.”

“One day, we'll be together again and we'll satisfy each other's needs. Meanwhile, I have a hand and an active imagination. It's not like you to feel insecure. What's going on?”

“I like the way you say we. Like, it's not my problem, it's our problem.”

“Babe? Answer the question.”

“I don't know what's wrong.”

That wasn't true. She did feel insecure of the relationship and worried that it wouldn't survive the confrontation with Matt. Birdie felt tears welling. She loved Matt completely and he left her. She loved Ron completely and was afraid he'd leave, too.

“I'm not going to quit you.”

“Even distance and a phone signal can't stop you from knowing what I need to hear.”

“It's true.”

“What if I quit you?”

Silence.

Finally Ron said, “What's worse, to have loved and lost, or not to have loved at all?”

“Cliché, but okay.”

“I can't afford to worry about that. You hold my heart in your hands and there are but two choices. You'll nurture it or you'll squash it.”

“You give me too much power.”

“You think?” said Ron. “I have no other view. I'm an over-eager puppy around you and you're the jaded mother hound that puts me in my place.”

“Do I really? That's so sad.”

“You laid out the rules of our relationship that first day I spent with you. Nothing has changed since then.”

“A lot has changed.”

“Not really, no. The essence is the same. You have an agenda I don't agree with, but my opinion be damned.”

“Please … let's not go there.”

“Alright. But be honest with yourself and admit one thing. You're feeling mopey because you're torn about the decision you'll have to make one day. Because he is the only thing that stands between us and you know I'm not going to share. I won't do a threesome.”

“Ron …”

“Don't say anything, Birdie. I'm not asking for an answer. Just be honest with yourself. Someday you're going to take a trip. You'll either come back or you won't. Then I'll truly know where I stand.”

“You know I love you.”

“I don't doubt it. Birdie Keane is not the kind of woman to say a thing she doesn't believe. But you'll have to decide who you love more.”

“It's not fair.”

“What the fu—? Never mind. This conversation took a wrong turn.”

“Don't hold back.”

“Look, baby, I'm glad you called, but let's hang up now. We both need some good sleep. I know you're afraid to take the meds, but cut one of the sleeping pills in half. Just to take the edge off. Put your head on the pillow and rest easy for a change. Okay?”

“Okay. Goodnight, Ron.”

“Goodnight, Birdie. Sleep tight.”

As soon as the call disconnected, she burst into tears. Suddenly, Thom's case lost all importance. She did have work to do. All the colliding thoughts and theories and schemes no longer mattered. She needed to focus her energies on herself.

Tomorrow.

Right now, she'd stay in the tub until the water turned cold.

Then she'd take Ron's advice and swallow half of a pill.

She'd go to sleep and dream about making love with Ron.

And then tomorrow everything would be different.

Tomorrow.

forty-three

Wednesday, May 16

Thom knocked on Birdie's
bedroom door.

“Come in.” She sat up, stretched, checked the clock. Six-fifteen.

Thom entered the room with a cup of coffee and placed it on her nightstand. Gave her a good morning peck on the lips, sat on the edge of the bed. He was dressed in jeans and, despite being out on personal, still wore his firearm and handcuffs. Habits die hard.

“Coffee. Such service. Thanks.”

“Sleep good?”

“Great. I took half a pill. You?”

“Naw. I got a couple hours on the couch. I worked on the case most of the night.”

“Any development?”

“George called. He's on his way. Bringing breakfast burritos. Want to sit in?”

“
Yeah.”

What happened to taking care of Birdie? It's tomorrow.

_____

“He said, ‘It's going to be nice working with a two again,'” said George. “It was practically the first thing he said to me.”

“What an ass,” said Thom.

“I don't get it,” said Birdie.

“It was a slight,” said Thom. “Seymour is a D-three, I'm a D-three. George is a
new
D-three.”

“It was his way of putting me in my place as if I were a rookie,” added George.

“Rookies don't work in RHD,” said Birdie.

“Thank you. Someone who appreciates my worth.”

Breakfast over and yet the three of them were still at the breakfast table in the glassed kitchen nook. Birdie stared out the leaded glass windows at the malaise that is Southern California's annual May Gray. This year's season has been especially heavy. Angelenos haven't seen the sun in over a week because the onshore flow was so strong. The sunless depression began to wear on her.

“This room is cold,” said Birdie. “Let's move to the living room and light a fire. I'm sick of this weather.”

“I'm with you,” said George. “I'll bring the coffee service.”

Thom and Birdie went ahead to the living room.

“He's so agreeable this morning,” said Birdie.

“Like I said, he got laid,” whispered Thom.

“You going to ask him about her?” said Birdie.

“Hell, no. He's very private about stuff like that. He'll joke occasionally, but he never tells. He's never even admitted to having sex with you and you guys dated … what?”

“Six months.”

“Point made.”

Birdie opened the flue and used the gas lighter to start the blaze. Ron had laid the fire the week before last. He always had one ready. In Ron's Oceanside Craftsman he had a two-sided fireplace made of river rock in the middle of the great room. There was always a fire at the ready. This past winter they enjoyed them often. Fires were nice, but she was looking forward to sunshine and summer heat. That would be August through October, once they got past the May Gray and then the June Gloom. She curled up in the chair.

George carried in the coffee service and placed the tray on the coffee table. He poured for Birdie first, then Thom, then himself.

“Labs came back,” said George. “The pubic hair in the blood belonged to Dominic. The bullet lodged in his kidney was a twenty-two. Dominic was not the father of Rachel's baby.”

Thom spread his fingers. “What's the punch line? We didn't need labs to tell us that.”

“Okay, how's this?” said George, “The owner of the cigarette butt left at the Deats crime scene was a paternal match for Rachael's baby.”

Thom and Birdie exchanged glances of possibility. Todd Moysychyn?

Thom gave George a small envelope. “I collected that last night.”

George looked inside. “A cigarette butt.”

“I witnessed the smoker discard it. He was on his own private property and would have a legitimate expectation of privacy considering I had to go through a locked gate to get in. It was still smoldering when I picked it up.”

“You get permission?”

“Of course not. I'm on leave. I was a private citizen when I picked it up off the ground. He didn't know I was a cop. In fact, I was
never asked what I did for a living.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Birdie. “We never had the
what do you do for a living
conversation.”

“You were there?” said George.

“Yes. I told you Thom and I were going out. He was my date.”

“Who does this belong to?”

“I can't tell you that,” said Thom.

“Do you think he's our killer?”

“Hard to tell. Birdie?”

“Fifty-fifty.”

George leaned away from Thom as though he had cooties. “This was illegally obtained. How am I going to get this in without a case number? Even if it was determined to be a match, it'd taint the prosecution.”

“You keep forgetting that the case is already tainted. Craig saw to that when he wouldn't release me after I told him I was compromised. Now it's a serial. He's the screw-up here.” Thom pointed at the envelope. “Find a work around and submit it. See what shakes out.”

George nodded and slipped it into his portfolio. “Speaking of which …” He handed Thom a CD.

“What's this?”

“That's Craig telling you about the IA.”

Thom's brows raised in confusion.

“Remember showing Craig the murder book?” said George.
“The war room was being used so we ducked into an interview room?
When Craig asked me to leave I thought … well, I went to the monitor
room and recorded it.”

“You've had this for two days and said nothing?” The carotid artery pulsed in Thom's neck. His face turned red.

“It was my moral dilemma. I wanted to protect you, but I didn't want you to know I invaded your privacy.”

Thom jumped up and aimed straight for George's face. George held up his hands in defense, but Thom shoved them away and planted a big kiss on George lips. “I love you, partner. This is going to save my ass!”

“George is blushing,” said Birdie.

“This gives me the leverage I need,” said Thom. “Thank you.”

“Alright,” said George. “Might as well take these as well.” He gave Thom three more CDs. “Interviews. I've been forbidden from telling you about them. But there must be a reason there's a duplicating tower in the monitor room, yes?”

“Did Jelena and Kidd get a glimpse of each other beforehand?”

“Unfortunately not. The choreography wasn't timed right.”

“Give me the abbreviated version. Did their stories change?”

“Dominic's aide, Gordon, gave a statement that matched exactly what he had previously stated. Jelena's changed slightly. She now remembers turning off the alarm clock. Said she misspoke when she initially told Officer Cross about what she touched.”

“Remind me,” said Birdie, “who is Cross?”

“Cross ran the log. As first responder he asked her what she touched when she arrived at the scene. She admitted to touching the doorknob when she unlocked the front door, a magazine in the great room, and the doorknob to the master bedroom.

“When I interviewed her she said the reason she went upstairs is because she heard the alarm clock beeping, but she didn't mention to Cross that she turned it off. Yesterday, she admitted to turning it off.”

“Which means,” said Thom. “She got a close-up look at the bod
ies.”

“Other than that detail, it was exactly the same. When asked why she didn't tell Officer Cross about turning off the clock she said she must've been in shock. She didn't even back off from her dislike of the twins.”

“And the bartender, Kidd?” said Thom.

“His story changed. He told us he
did know
Jelena. She's a regular at Hank's. That's where they initially met. They hook up occasionally at his place. He also admitted to seeing her the night I visited. He said that one of the perks of being a young bartender is lots of women. He gets laid consistently. Oftentimes on the premises. His story got interesting. Seems Jelena is always looking for a mark. An older, rich man. She's money hungry. Looking for a sugar daddy like the one her friend has.”

“What friend?” said Thom.

“Some Asian chick she went to school with. Kidd said he only saw her once, but that Jelena talks about her all the time.”

“And I walk in and she marks me,” said Thom.

“Yes. According to Kidd, she watched you and eventually moved your way.”

“How did Jelena respond to Kidd's representation?”

“Her interview was first.”

“Now everyone knows about me,” said Thom.

“No,” said George. “She only knows you as an older gentleman named Thomas. Remember, she never got your last name. She'd never met you before.”

“How does Kidd feel about Jelena marking men?” said Thom.

“He could care less. He gets his rocks off,” said George.

“May I ask a personal question?” said Birdie to Thom. “How did you explain the gun when you were with her?”

“I never wear one when I go out,” said Thom. “I keep it locked in the car.”

“Smart,” said George. “If anyone were to ever figure out you were a cop, they couldn't claim malfeasance or coercion.”

Thom clicked his teeth. “Exactly.”

“I need another reminder,” said Birdie. “Who asked who?”

“She asked me,” said Thom.

“And she reiterated that yesterday,” said George. “I played this up in the interview. At some point Thom's identity will come out and we'll have two independent statements that she targeted you. Hers and Kidd's.”

“Not a setup after all,” said Thom. “Anything else?”

“That's it. So much for me being forbidden from talking to you about it.”

Thom said to Birdie, “Since we're exchanging gifts should we give George ours?”

“Yes,” she said. “I'll get it.” Birdie went to the office and came back with yet another CD. “These are phone messages left on my extension at the newspaper. I believe they belong to the serial killer.”

“What? Why didn't you call the police?”

“I thought they were crank calls. They were out of context until I happened upon Thom's case file, you know, the one you collected from me last night? You know me, an unattended file, an active imagination … and well … you are the police. Now I have to tell the paper.”

“This might've just busted open the case.”

Birdie grimaced. “Not sure about that, but hey, go to town. Take it to the bosses. Have them work it out.”

Thom felt Noa's phone vibrating in his pocket. “Excuse me,” he said. He went to the bathroom and answered. “Hello?”

“Aloha, Thom. This is Noa. Did I wake you?”

“I've been up awhile. So … it's you.”

“Live in Memorex. Seems you passed the point of no return yesterday when you fulfilled my terms. I want to meet you in person before we take the next step. Tonight. Seven p.m. Chinatown. Have paper and pencil? You'll need to take down directions.”

“I'm not in a place I can write.”

“Okay. Hang up. I'll call back and leave a message. Still have that password?”

“Yes.”

“Terrific. See you tonight. And Thom? Don't forget the Benjamins and come with an appetite. Aloha.” The call disconnected.

“What if I wasn't available tonight?” whispered Thom.

He returned just in time to see George off. They hugged. “Good luck with Dominic's office today,” said Thom. “Don't forget the IT guy.”

“Will, do. Take care.”

“Walk me down?” said George to Birdie.

She escorted him downstairs. When they got to the bottom of the stairs he kissed her on the cheek. “I'm sorry again for last night.”

“The George Silva I know wouldn't have crossed that line.”

“Guess I was impatient.”

They said goodbye and Birdie rejoined Thom upstairs in the office. He had a phone to his ear and was scribbling notes. After he disconnected he said, “Noa. We're meeting tonight.”

“He got his money and isn't wasting time. That's good, I think, gives you less time to back out.”

“I couldn't even if I wanted to. He's going to judge me. Make sure I'm not crazy. If he chooses not to take my case I get the money back. But if
I
change my mind, he keeps it. Listen, I want to be at home when the kids get back from school today. They need a daddy fix just as much as I need a kid fix. I have to be out of here by two-thirty. Help me keep the schedule?”

“Of course. When are you going to tell George about Jelena getting into Moysychyn's car?”

“Not sure. Maybe she marked her previous landlord as well.”

“Who's making theories now? Maybe she killed for him, too.”