Cool Cache (20 page)

He shrugged off the criticism. “What can I say? I’m easily bored.”

“Will Lisa corroborate your alibi?”

“See, there’s your problem. I don’t need an alibi.”

“Actually, Brad, you need a couple of them. One for Thursday, the night Lupe Ortiz was murdered, and one for last night, when your ex-wife got another one of those late-night hang-up calls.”

“I didn’t kill anybody. And as far as those calls are concerned, we’ve discussed that already. Why would I waste my time calling Helen?”

“Because you’re a control freak. You had your life all planned out. When the time was right, you were going to leave Helen and start a new life with wife number two. But she screwed up the plan by hiring a forensic accountant to find all the money you’d squirreled away. I think that stuck in your craw.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. He put his hand on the door as if he planned to slam it in my face. “This conversation is over. Get out.”

“I’ll leave, but I suggest you stop harassing Helen, or I’ll make a few calls of my own—to the police.”

“I’ll take your suggestion under advisement.”

“Don’t mess with me, Taggart. Phone companies keep records and don’t say it was your daughter who made those calls. She isn’t going to commit perjury to save your sorry ass. Keep playing this game and things could get ugly. It could even make the newspapers. I suspect your company won’t be impressed by the negative publicity. Your wife won’t be, either. Or Lisa Leather Pants.”

He stared at the door for a long time before responding. “Okay, so I might have called Helen a few times. I probably forgot about the time difference. I didn’t want to disturb her sleep, so I hung up.”

“But you won’t call her again. Right?”

Taggart’s jaw was clenched so tight I thought I heard one of his molars crack. “Right.”

Then he slammed the door. As predicted, it was loud. I decided to leave before somebody came to investigate. I picked up my car from the valet and made it back to Culver City by three.

Charley was in his office, studying the list of Lupe’s clients I’d gotten from Jay-Cee. Eugene hadn’t been in for four days, and Charley’s office looked as if it had suffered a direct hit from a category-five hurricane. Files were stacked on the floor, and wood chips from his pencil sharpener were scattered around the desktop like mulch in a fall garden. I pulled Eugene’s dusting glove from his desk drawer and started to tidy up.

Charley whistled. “I never thought I’d see you doing housework, Sinclair.”

“Treasure the moment, because you won’t see it again.”

“I stopped by Radio Shack to see what I could find out about the cell phone charger Eugene bought. The clerk remembered him coming into the store, but nothing more.”

I herded the wood shavings into a wastebasket. “Guess where Brad Taggart was last Thursday night.”

“I assume he wasn’t in a spinning class.”

“Nope. He was screwing somebody who’s not his wife.”

“No shit? How did you find out?”

I put the dusting glove back in the plastic bag. “I followed him to a room at the Montage. He was with some blonde, and they weren’t wearing clothes. He admitted to making those calls to Helen. He made up some flimsy excuse. Said he forgot about the time change.”

“Did he say anything about the kid?”

“He said Eugene never called him. I tend to believe him. He was sort of low on bargaining chips at the time.”

“There’s still Bob Rossi,” Charley said. “The guy has a criminal record for spousal abuse. Eugene knew about his parking feud with Helen. He might have gone to see him.”

“When can you talk to him?” I said.

“As soon as I contact these Jay-Cee customers.”

“Look, I have some free time this afternoon,” I said. “I can talk to him.”

“I don’t know, Sinclair.”

I returned the glove to Eugene’s desk drawer. “Don’t worry, Charley. I’ll be careful.”

Bob Rossi’s restaurant wouldn’t be open until dinner. That left me just enough time to take care of another urgent matter. Joe Deegan.

Chapter 25

I’d made a promise to Riley to discuss the rift in her relationship with her brother, and I intended to honor it. When I told Deegan I wanted to talk, he told me he’d taken the day off and invited me to stop by his house. I hesitated at first, wondering how I’d feel about being at his place again with its Carly McKendrick-inspired French cow plates and the baby grand piano he owned but didn’t play, but I finally agreed.

Deegan grew up in San Pedro, which he and everybody else in the ’hood pronounced San PEEdro. The medium-sized town is home to one of the busiest deep-water ports on the West Coast and a diverse, close-knit community comprising longshoremen, entrepreneurs, doctors, and lawyers from multiple ethnic and cultural backgrounds.

Deegan had overcome the pedestrian architecture of his small 1960s-style ranch house by using taupe paint on the wood siding and accenting the sash and trim with charcoal and white, a color scheme that enhanced the curb appeal and gave the place a solid, no-nonsense feel, sort of like that of its owner.

He answered the door wearing a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. Braced against his hip like a football was a blond-haired baby who looked to be around a year old. He had round blue eyes and pillow lips and wore a long-sleeved shirt and a diaper that looked as if it might blow off in a strong breeze. I was taken aback by the sight. I’d never considered Deegan father material, but watching the tenderness with which he held that baby made me realize there was a side of him I’d never seen before. A side I would never see.

“Excuse me,” I said in mock surprise. “I must have the wrong house. I was looking for a homicide detective by the name of Joe Deegan.”

Deegan glanced at the baby and smiled. “My nephew Andrew. It’s Claudia and Matt’s anniversary, so I’m babysitting for the day. Come in. We were just eating. Weren’t we, Rookie?” He threw the kid in the air, which produced waves of giggles and a string of drool.

All of my senses were on alert as I stepped inside the house. I scanned the living room, searching for the scent of unfamiliar perfume, a fashion magazine that didn’t belong, or a pair of black lacy panties forgotten between the cushions of the couch. Instead I saw the familiar bleached oak floors, black leather sectional, two sleek accent chairs, and the white sheepskin area rug beneath the glass-and-chrome coffee table. Off in the corner was Deegan’s baby grand piano.

I followed him into the kitchen and watched as he put Andrew in a low scooter on the floor next to his retro aluminum-trimmed kitchen table.

“Did Eugene come back?” he said.

“Not yet.”

“Did you report him missing?”

“It’s complicated.”

Deegan seemed puzzled by my comment. “So, then, what can I do for you, Tucker?”

It was jarring to hear him call me that. Before things went bad between us, he had always called me Stretch because I was long and lean like a stretch limousine. It had been his nickname for me from the first day we met.

“I want to talk to you about Riley,” I said. “She says you’re not speaking to her.”

Andrew didn’t like being confined in the scooter. He began to fuss. Deegan tried to quiet him with a few empty promises, but that didn’t work, so he took a set of keys from his pocket and dangled them in front of the baby’s face. Andrew grabbed the keys and began to pound them on the tray. He seemed to find this amusing. I found it loud and irritating.

“Riley was out of line,” he said.

“She doesn’t like your fiancée. She’s entitled to her opinion.”

“I don’t care who she likes or doesn’t like. That’s not the way to handle things.”

“She’s trying to protect you. She doesn’t want to see you hurt.”

Deegan reached for a jar of baby food on the counter. “Do I look like I need protecting?”

I didn’t answer right away because I didn’t want to state the obvious, that everybody needed looking after now and then. Even Deegan. Maybe even me.

He twisted the lid of the glass jar. The vacuum unsealed with a whoosh. The food inside was an unappetizing pumpkin-colored puree interspersed with green chunks. He put the jar in the microwave and set the timer for twenty seconds.

“Riley is a great kid,” I said.

“Yup, she is.”

“She thinks you want her to give up Luv Bugs.”

He took a spoon from the drawer. “What Riley does with her life is up to Riley.”

“Starting a new business is hard. I’m trying to help her, but she needs your support, too.”

The timer on the microwave went off. “I’ll tell you what I told her. She needs to get a life and stop interfering in mine.”

He took the baby food jar from the microwave and squatted in front of Andrew’s scooter. He loaded food onto the spoon and aimed it for the baby’s mouth.

“Aren’t you going to test that to make sure it’s not too hot?” I said.

Deegan cocked his head. “Excuse me? You’re telling me how to feed a curtain climber? Have you even seen one of these little guys before?”

“Okay, so I’m not an expert on babies, but I read in a magazine once that you’re supposed to test the temperature so you don’t burn his mouth.”

Deegan stuck his finger in the jar. “It’s fine.”

“You’re supposed to test it on your lips. Lips are more sensitive than fingers.”

“I’m not going anywhere near that line.”

“Okay, at least blow on it.”

He tried but failed to suppress a smile. “Your offer is tempting, but no.”

Deegan aimed the spoon for Andrew’s mouth. At the last minute, the baby turned his head. The spoon hit his cheek. Pumpkin puree spilled down his face and onto his shirt. Deegan grabbed a nearby towel and wiped the food from the baby’s face.

“Would you please talk to Riley?” I said.

“I will, but first she owes Carly an apology.”

I wanted to defend Riley, but Deegan was right. His sister hadn’t handled the situation with much grace. In Deegan’s defense, I knew what it was like when a family member hated the person you loved. I’d been engaged back in college to a man named Evan Brice. My mother thought he was bad news. It was painful to know she didn’t trust my judgment, but as it turned out, she was right. Evan was bad news. I couldn’t help believing that Riley was right about Carly McKendrick, too. She
would
break Deegan’s heart again.

“When you love somebody,” I said, “sometimes you just have to forgive them. No strings attached.”

Deegan parted his lips as if he was going to say something, but he remained silent. His expression held no clue to his emotions. He set the jar of baby food on the tray and fixed his gaze on me. We studied each other for what seemed like a long time, searching for cues to what might happen next.

The silence was broken by a loud clatter. We both turned toward the scooter. Andrew had crashed the keys against the jar of baby food and toppled it over, spilling the pumpkin puree. He slapped his hand in the food, splattering it all over the tray and all over his uncle. Deegan stood and picked up the towel again, wiping the front of his shirt.

“Were there any tips in that magazine article about how to get vegetable-chicken dinner out of a clean shirt?” he said.

I put my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. “I guess I should have read the whole thing.”

There was a glob of food in his hair. Without thinking, I took the towel from his hand and wiped it off. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there watching me with those smoky bedroom eyes of his and an expression I couldn’t quite read. We were standing so close I could smell the aroma of fabric softener on his shirt.

I don’t know what came over me, but the next moment my arms were around his neck. It was as if a memory chip had malfunctioned, the one that said Deegan and I weren’t together anymore, that he was engaged to somebody else. My lips brushed against his. I felt his hesitation and then release as he pulled me closer. We stayed like that for a moment, rocking together in some sort of penance dance. I knew it could be more than that if I wanted it that way, but he wouldn’t make the first move. That would be up to me.

My credo had always been once a cheater, always a cheater. Now I was on the verge of initiating Deegan into that select club. I thought about the consequences of making love to him. It would feel good until Carly found out. She’d be shattered. I knew because I’d been on the receiving end of an unfaithful boyfriend. I couldn’t inflict that pain on another woman, not even Carly McKendrick, who knew a thing or two about cheating.

I backed away from Deegan’s embrace. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

He took a deep breath and lowered his gaze to the floor. Andrew squealed. Deegan turned toward his nephew to see what was wrong. I used the diversion to make my way to the front door.

I sat in my car for a few minutes, wondering if Deegan would come after me. If the closed door was any indication, I might be waiting forever, so I headed to Beverly Hills to interview Bob Rossi.

Chapter 26

My car was stopped at a red light at the corner of Santa Monica and Wilshire boulevards when my cell phone rang. It was Jordan Rich, asking if I got the flowers. I’d almost forgotten about them.

“Yes. They were beautiful. Thank you.”

“You sound upset. Is something wrong?”

“I have a lot on my plate right now, that’s all.”

“Did you find your friend?”

“Not yet.”

There was a long pause. “I’m sorry. How can I help?”

The light turned green and I headed into the intersection. “You can’t, but thanks anyway.”

“I have an airplane,” he said. “I can fly you anywhere you need to go, or I can just sit with you. I wouldn’t even talk if you didn’t feel like it. I’d just be there if you needed me.”

“I’ll let you know.”

Jordan was quiet for a moment.