Hoarded to Death (A Jamie Brodie Mystery) (18 page)

On the way, we talked about school, the differences and similarities between kindergarteners and college freshmen, and other neutral topics. Jennifer still seemed more tense than usual, but I figured she was just anxious about how much money she’d get for the books. And it occurred to me that I really didn’t know what “usual” was for her.

The transaction went well, and Jennifer left the bookstore with a check for $6,000. She seemed satisfied, but she was quiet on the way back west. I finally decided to ask. “You’re awfully quiet. Aren’t you happy with the sale?”

She glanced at me. “Oh, no, that’s not it. I’d done some research, and I figured it would be about this amount. It’s just that it’s a drop in the bucket towards paying off my debt.”

“Six
grand
is a drop in the bucket? How much do you owe?”

She cringed. “Nearly $300,000.”

“Holy
shit!
For
what?
Just the stuff in your apartment?”

“Um – I have a storage unit too. And a car loan, and a student loan, and a few payday loans…”

Dear God.
“Well, you’ve just got to chip away at it. Every bit helps.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But I really wish I knew about how much I was going to get for the manuscript page. I’m getting calls from collection agencies.”

“Well, you’ll know soon enough. Gillian said all the experts were dropping everything to work on it.”

“Good. That’s good.” But she was still distracted. I shrugged inwardly. Not my problem.

The following Saturday, we'd invited Liz and Jon Eckhoff to come hiking with Kevin, Abby, Pete, and me. We met up in the parking lot at the base of the trail. Jon and Liz had beaten us there, and they walked over as we were all getting out of Pete’s Jeep. Jon said to Kevin, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Kevin laughed. “Yeah.”

Pete said, “You guys have been spending some time together, huh?”

“Yep.” Kevin lifted his backpack out of the Jeep. “Including most of the day yesterday.”

I was intrigued. “Did you turn anything up?”

"Actually, yeah. We were stuck, so we took a deeper look at any associations that Wallace – Wally – might have had with any of the other players in the case. And we learned something
very
interesting."

The rest of us all said at the same time, "
What?
"

Jon laughed. Then he got serious. "Wallace is divorced, for two years now. He and his ex-wife have a nine year old kid. After the divorce, the ex got custody and moved to Palmdale. But when the kid was five years old, they were still married, and their kid went to kindergarten at Stoner Avenue Elementary. Guess who his favorite teacher was?"

My mouth dropped open. Pete said, "You are
shitting
me."

"Nope." Jon looked grim. "So, we talked to Wallace's ex-wife about that a little. Turns out Wallace was a great dad, went to parent-teacher conferences all the time. The kid had a couple of instances of acting out in school that year, and the parents both went to the school and met with Ms. Graham when that happened. So both Wallace and his ex got to know Ms. Graham pretty well, at least in terms of Ms. Graham being their kid's teacher."

Pete said, "That fucking
liar
." I said, "You'd asked Jennifer whether she'd known Wallace before, right?"

"Of course. And she said no. So Belardo and I brought her in for another conversation yesterday. Kevin watched from the observation room."

"What did she say?"

"She caved immediately, said yes, she'd met Wallace at the school, and more importantly, knew what he did for a living. That he was a junk man and had knowledge of the value of old things."

Pete said, "I cannot
believe
this." Kevin said, "I can." I said, "Holy
shit
. So she'd talked to him about her hoard?"

"Yep. She'd called him and told him she was going to sign up for the show, and that she'd like him to look at her books and papers as the cleaning took place because the old lady had told her there was valuable stuff in the boxes."

Pete was speechless. Abby was laughing. "The way you guys have talked about her, the way Valerie talked about her at Thanksgiving, I am not surprised. This sounds really typical of her."

Pete said, "Yeah, it does. But she's not stupid, or at least I didn't think she was. Lying to the police in a homicide investigation is a whole 'nother layer of crazy."

I said, "But she'd asked me to do the same thing."

Jon said, "Yeah. She was covering all the bases, basically, hoping that if there was anything of value in the boxes, at least one of you would find it."

Pete said, "So when Wally was working slowly that first day, we thought it looked like he was sorting through stuff. And he was."

"Yep. Although Ms. Graham was clear about the fact that she'd told Wallace that the valuable stuff was in boxes. So he had no reason to be sorting through anything that first day."

I said, "Just hoping he'd find something else, probably."

Jon said, "Yeah. So when he didn't, he decided to come back early the next day and have a look himself, before anyone else got into the boxes."

Pete said, "But he brought someone else with him. He'd told someone else."

"Yep. Now we have to figure out who that person was, and if there’s a connection to Brashier. We have another meeting set up with the ex-wife tomorrow, to see if she has any idea of who Wallace would ask to be an accomplice in something like this."

I said, "I bet Belardo was pissed."

Jon laughed. "Oh,
hell
yeah. He put the fear of God in Ms. Graham when we brought her in to the station. Very clearly informed her that if she didn't come clean, she was going to jail. He was rough on her. She was pretty shaken when she left."

Abby said, "Had she told anyone else?"

"She swore not. I tend to believe her this time, but if nothing pans out with the Wallace angle, we'll have to talk to her about it again."

Pete shook his head. "That is just…
fucking unbelievable
."

We all agreed.

On Sunday, it rained. Pete and I stayed in. He cooked for the coming week; I cleaned and did laundry. Around noon, Jon called; he and Belardo had been out to Palmdale to talk to Wally’s ex-wife again. She couldn’t think of anyone that Wally might have used as a partner in whatever scheme he had cooked up, and she’d never heard Brashier’s name. But, as she had pointed out to Belardo and Eckhoff, it had been two years since she’d had any knowledge of who Wally might associate with.

The most interesting thing she’d said was that Wally was falling behind on his child support payments.

On Tuesday, I had my first appointment with the counselor that I’d chosen from our provider list. I didn’t want to tell Pete about this just yet, so I made the appointment for my lunch hour. Right before noon, I walked down to the professional building next to UCLA’s hospital at the south end of campus, to the office of Dr. Tania Bibbins.

Dr. Bibbins was a tall, elegant African American woman, with the closely cut to the head hairstyle that I thought looked great on women of a certain age. She was probably in her late forties. She smiled and shook my hand. "Jamie, welcome. Come in, have a seat. Would you like some tea?"

I'd lived in England long enough to pick up the tradition of thinking that a cuppa could solve the problems of the world. "Yes, please. As long as it’s not chamomile – I have asthma."

“Ah. No, it’s Earl Grey.” Dr. Bibbins poured from a pot sitting in an alcove that contained a hot plate and refrigerator. "Sugar?"

"No, thank you."

She returned and handed me my cup, then sat down in the chair opposite me, rather than behind her desk. “So. What has prompted you to seek therapy?”

I’d thought about how to phrase this. “I need to learn how to deal with the frustration that I feel toward my boyfriend in terms of our sexual compatibility.”

“Ah. And why are you sexually incompatible?”

“We’re not, entirely. But…” I told her about Pete’s history, and my hopes for our sex life. “I’ve done some research on survivors of sexual abuse, and I know I’ll never be able to ask him for what I’d like. And now he’s afraid that I’ll eventually leave him because of it, even though I’ve promised him that I won’t. But to keep that promise, I have to learn how to deal with this.”

“Does Pete know that you’re here?”

“No, ma’am.”

She looked at me sharply. “Ma’am?”

Oops
. “I’m sorry. I was raised by Marines.”

She smiled. “Ah. Then you’re forgiven. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

“I won’t.” I almost said ma’am, and caught myself.

Dr. Bibbins could tell, and she looked amused. “Is Pete in therapy?”

“Yes, since he was fourteen. And he’s a psychologist himself.”

She looked surprised. “I see. Is he in practice?”

“No. He’s full-time faculty at Santa Monica College.”

"Okay." She took a few notes. “Before we discuss your relationship, I’d like to hear about you. Tell me about your background.”

So I did. She nodded and took notes along the way, occasionally asking a question. When I stopped, she said, "You're close to your family."

"Yes."

"You speak with them often?"

"A couple of times a week, at least, and we all text each other almost every day."

"Okay. So you have a very strong emotional support system outside of your relationship."

I'd never really thought of it in those structured terms, but... "Definitely."

“And you’re used to sharing things with them.”

“Yes.”

“But this is a burden you can’t share. The weight is all on your shoulders this time.”

I hadn’t thought about that, but she was right. I couldn’t talk to anyone about this, ever. Suddenly I felt ten years older. I said weakly, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m here.”

Dr. Bibbins nodded sharply, but her eyes were sympathetic. “Yes. Now, why don't you tell me your relationship history.”

"Yes, m…um…I met Pete when I first moved to LA. He was my brother Kevin's partner on the police force. They did stuff together outside of work, hiking and going to Dodgers games and playing on the LAPD baseball team. So Pete and I were around each other a lot. But when we met, he was dating someone else. It wasn't until a couple of years later that we actually started dating, after Pete had left the force."

"And who initiated the relationship?"

I smiled in memory. "He did."

"Did you immediately accept?"

I laughed. "Yes."

"Then what happened?"

"We dated for about eight months. We got along great, but I guess we kind of got into a rut, a little bit? And he was in grad school, so he didn't have a lot of free time, and I had started working at my job and was making a lot more money than he did, so there were some strains there. And then his old boyfriend came back and wanted to get back together, and Pete left me for him."

Dr. Bibbins' eyebrows rose in surprise. "You say that so calmly."

"Well, I do now, but I wasn't very calm at the time."

"Ah. So what did you do?"

"I started dating other people again. I didn't see much of Pete for a while, because my brother Kevin really didn't like the old boyfriend. I'd never met the guy, but I definitely didn't want to be around him either."

"Understandable. So your brother was upset by the fact that Pete had broken up with you."

"Yes."

She nodded. "So how did it come about that you got back together?"

"Pete broke up with the old boyfriend again after about a year, and started coming around again, but I was dating other people and was a little reluctant to get involved with him again. It wasn't until just this past June that we got back together. And that wasn't intentional, at least not on my part...I got burned out of my apartment and went to stay with Pete while it was being fixed, and...I never left."

Dr. Bibbins nodded and made a few more notes. “Did you live together the first time you dated?”

“No.”

“And this time, you jumped right into living together.”

“Yes.”

“What are your thoughts on that?”

“Um…at first, I guess, it felt really temporary to me. But now it’s been six months, and I – I’m feeling more secure. But now Pete’s the insecure one.”

"I get the sense that you hadn’t entirely resolved your insecurity. And now you’ve had another abrupt, life-altering shift in your relationship, but this time you feel that you have to be the solid one. And that’s a new role for you.”

I sighed. “That’s exactly right.”

“Okay.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m afraid our time is up for today, but we’ll pick this back up next week. Until then, I have some homework for you. I want you to tell Pete that you’re seeing me.”

Ack
. “You think that’s a good idea?”

“Yes, I do, for two reasons. First, it’s particularly important in this phase of your relationship that you not keep things from each other. Second, seeing that you’re willing to work on this issue may help him feel believe in your commitment to the relationship.”

“Okay. That makes sense.”

“Good.” Dr. Bibbins stood. I followed suit, and we shook hands. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Yes, m...um, thank you.”

She saw me out with a smile.

Heading back to the library, I was mulling over everything Dr. Bibbins had said when I remembered that I hadn’t turned my phone back on yet. I did, and immediately saw that I had a text message from Kevin.

“Q. Brashier found shot to death. Shop assistant missing. Call me.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Oh,
fuck
.” A couple of passing students looked my way and snickered. I hit the “call” button and Kevin answered on the first ring. “Hey.”

“Hey, I got your text. What happened?”

“Brashier’s last known customer left the shop yesterday at 4:15. Around midnight, the shopping plaza security guard made his first sweep past the shop, and noticed that the lights were still on. He went to check it out, and the Closed sign was turned, but the front door was unlocked. He walked in and found Brashier behind the counter. Shot three times in the chest. Nothing else was disturbed in the shop, although we don’t know if anything’s missing. Except for the assistant, who is nowhere to be found.”