Muller, Marcia - [10] The Shape of Dread (v1.0) (html) (59 page)

She was silent, still looking down at where her fingers were trapped
between her knees.

"Lisa," I said, "you left San Francisco because of something that
happened at Café Comedie that night. Will you please tell me about it?"

"That's not true. I left town because I… wanted to. It didn't have
anything to do with… anything. Tracy got killed, and I'm sorry, but
there's nothing I can do about it."

"I don't think you're sorry she got killed."

Now she raised her head, lips parted.

I added, "I know about the character she based on you—Ginny the
waitress. And I know how upset you were about it. And what went on
between you and Tracy before that."

She compressed her lips and closed her eyes. It was a moment before
she said, "Okay, I hated Tracy. She used me and made me feel… like some
lab animal she'd experimented on. But that doesn't mean I killed her."

"I'm not trying to say you did. But I think you know more about that
night than you're admitting. And the knowledge is scaring you."

She shook her head vehemently, eyes still closed.

"Lisa, a skeleton has turned up in a remote place where Tracy used
to go in Napa County. They've had some difficulty identifying it, but I
think it will turn out to be Tracy's." Strange, I thought, that I felt
a wrenching as I spoke the words. I supposed that in the back of my
mind I'd harbored the unrealistic hope that I'd find George's daughter
and somehow things would work out—in spite of all evidence to the
contrary.

"Someone shot her," I went on. "But it wasn't Bobby. That means the
person who killed her is still at large—and a danger to anyone who has
the slightest knowledge of her murder. For your own sake, as well as
Bobby's, help me!"

She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, and tears slid down either
cheek, forming symmetrical tracks. I remained silent. After a moment
she leaned forward and rooted around on the floor for a Kleenex box,
wiped her face with a tissue.

"Okay," she said heavily. "I guess I knew it would catch up with me
someday. So I'll tell you. But first you have to promise you won't let
him find out it was me that told."

"Who?"

She shook her head. "Just promise."

"I do."

"Okay. The way it was, Bobby and I were friends, sort of. We talked
a lot. That night I ran into him on my break, about
eight-thirty. There's a room in back where the employees put their
stuff and hang out. Bobby was there. I could tell he was high—he'd been
doing crack—and really upset. I asked him what was wrong, and he told
me about… him and Tracy. Do you know about that?"

"Yes."

"Well, he didn't seem to realize why she'd done it, but I could
guess she'd used him, just like me. It made me furious. She'd done this
horrible thing to both of us. And everybody knew she was fucking Jay
for what he could do for her career. And then there was Marc: she'd
broken off with him, but whenever she wanted anything, all she had to
do was whistle. Anyway, Bobby went back to work, and I sat there
getting madder and madder. And then there was Tracy, the star, breezing
in to do her routine."

"Did you confront her?"

"Damned right I did! I told her what a cunt she was, and that I was
really on to her now. And I said I was going to tell
everybody—including Jay." Lisa paused, head cocked to one side. "You
know, I thought she was a tough one, but that really threw her. She
started to cry. And that only made me more furious. Why should she cry,
when she had everything? I stormed out of there and waited for the
chance to talk to Jay."

"And did you?"

"Not right away. He was busy. The Sorianos came in, first Kathy and
then Rob. They met some people, investors in the real estate business,
I think. I didn't get to talk to Jay until nearly closing, in his
office."

"And that was why you seemed upset to Kathy later on, when you were
sitting at the bar."

"Upset? That's mild. Jay totally freaked out." Lisa's voice grew
hushed, the memory cowing her even now. "He demanded to know all sorts
of things—when, how many times, you know. And then he started hurling
stuff around the
office. I was terrified, all I could think was, What if this guy just
grabs me and rips me apart? I mean, my father used to beat me when I
was a kid, and a couple of the guys I was with before I turned off men
were pretty violent, but Jay—I never knew he had it in him."

I hadn't suspected that, either.

Lisa was watching me with worried eyes. "You see why you can't tell
him it was me that told. After I heard Tracy had disappeared, and about
the kidnapping, I was so scared I couldn't go back to the club. Because
he knew that I knew—"

I held up my hand to slow her down. "You think it was Jay who killed
Tracy?"

"Who else? He was so furious, so violent. And he knew where she was
going that night."

"He knew she was going up to the Napa River?"

"Uh-huh. The way it went, Kathy and I were sitting at the bar around
closing, waiting for Rob. I guess she told you that. She'd offered me a
ride home, since it was pouring. Jay came out of the office to get
something from behind the bar and asked Kathy what she was still doing
there. She told him she was waiting for Rob because she'd loaned her
car to Tracy so she could go to the cottage. And right away Jay said,
'The cottage on the river?' So I know he knew—"

"Wait a minute! Kathy loaned Tracy her car?"

Lisa looked blank, the shock in my voice stemming her gush of words.
"… Well, sure. Kathy said Tracy'd already called Marc and tried to
borrow his car, but he'd said he needed it the next day."

"Let me get this straight. Kathy told me Rob's assistant in the real
estate business was with them that night, and that it was his car that
was stolen off the lot that night. He testified to that at Bobby's
trial."

"I don't know anything about any stolen car or any assistant. I'm
just telling you what I heard."

"You didn't follow the news stories on the case, hear about the
stolen car that eventually turned up in the mountains with bloodstains
inside it?"

"I didn't follow it at all. I didn't want to know anything about it.
It was only by chance that the TV at the club was on the day they
sentenced Bobby, or I wouldn't have known about that."

"What kind of a car did Kathy drive, do you recall?"

"A Volvo, blue. I rode in it quite a few times, to the bus stop or
home."

I didn't know whether to believe her or not. It made no sense for
Kathy to loan Tracy her car, then turn around and have Jim Fox report
it stolen. I said, "Wasn't loaning her car out of character for Kathy?
She doesn't strike me as a particularly generous woman."

Lisa shrugged. "Kathy liked Tracy. And I think she knew Tracy was
going to make it big; when she did, Kathy wanted for them to be
friends." She paused, thoughtful. "Actually, Kathy's not so bad. She
came around to see me that week when I was afraid to go back to the
club. I told her I wanted to get out of town and why. She said it was a
good idea, on account of Jay not being too stable. And you know what?
She gave me money. A thousand dollars and a plane ticket, so I could
get started down here. She even drove me to the airport."

I considered that for a moment, balancing it against what Kathy had
told me. Of the two, I tended to believe Lisa. I said, "What kind of
car was she driving when she took you to the airport?"

Lisa frowned. "Not the Volvo. Another foreign model, more expensive.
It was the one Rob was driving when they took me home from the club
that last night."

Probably the Jaguar I'd seen parked in their driveway earlier today.
I asked, "Did you ever see a gun in Jay's possession?"

"He kept one behind the bar. Marc used to complain about it, because
he doesn't like guns. But Jay said it had to be there for protection."

"Do you know anything about guns?"

"Yeah. My old man was a cop."

"What kind was the one at the club?"

"A handgun, thirty-eight."

Same as the bullets found in the remains and in the Volvo.

I stared at the blank TV screen for a minute, thinking of the dental
records that had been used to identify those remains as Lisa's.
Thinking of how Marc Emmons, who presumably had known where Tracy had
been bound that night, had suddenly become one of the "stars" at Café
Comedie in the aftermath of her disappearance. And wondering about Jay
Larkey and Kathy Soriano, off-and-on lovers because, according to him,
"it makes the lady feel better."

Or did it make the gentleman feel more secure?

Lisa said, "What if he finds out I told you?"

"He won't. He has no idea where you are. As long as you stay right
here, you'll be safe."

I would call Stan Gurski as soon as I left her, tell him what I'd
found out. He would want to question her, probably would have her taken
into custody, but Lisa didn't need to know that yet. I suspected that
the policeman father who had beaten her had left her with a deeply
ingrained aversion to the authorities.

I wanted to say something reassuring to her, but I could think of
nothing to offer. Finally I repeated my statement that she would be all
right if she stayed at home, and took my leave of her.

After I called Stan Gurski and relayed the information about
Mclntyre (and ruined his evening by dashing his previous conceptions
about the case), I gave some thought to hunting up a copy of the
two-year-old L.A. Times that I needed. A call to the nearest branch of
the public library proved it to be closed—by budget cuts, I supposed,
similar to those that kept San Francisco's libraries on shortened
hours. The best place to try would be the Times itself, but first I
decided to make my reservation for a return flight north.

As it turned out, USAir's departures were less frequent at night;
there was only one seat available on the nine o'clock flight, and after
that I'd have to take my chances on standby. Since the Times was
located downtown, there was a distinct possibility that I'd miss all
the flights and end up spending the night in L.A. I hesitated for only
a moment, decided it was more important to be at the focus of my
investigation, and reserved the last seat at nine.

On the return flight I sipped an unaccustomed bourbon and water and
tried to reconstruct what had happened to Tracy on that
rainy winter night, based on yet another set of new facts.

She'd arrived at the club and had the confrontation with Lisa.
Uncharacteristically upset, she'd broken down and cried. Prior to that
she'd worried about no longer being a good person; now she saw her
world coming apart as a result of her shabby treatment of others. If
Lisa told Jay everything, at the very least he'd break off their
affair. He might even attempt to have her contract with the club
invalidated. But worse than that, she'd be exposed as an unfeeling
opportunist. Her impulse was to flee—to a place where she often went
for solitude and contemplation.

But to do that she needed a car. At first she turned to Marc, but
he'd refused, saying he needed his the next day. Next she approached
Kathy. Kathy had driven to the club separately from her husband, so she
agreed to let Tracy borrow the Volvo. Tracy had probably taken the keys
from the valet parking box when she left after her performance, but
then she'd had her second confrontation of the evening, with Bobby
Foster.

Why, if she was so upset and shamed by Lisa's threat of exposure,
had she blurted out to Bobby the truth about her motive for sleeping
with him? Possibly she assumed he'd find out soon, anyway. Maybe
because she was hurting, she wanted to lash out and hurt someone else.
Or because she was in a hurry, she said the first thing she thought of
that would make him let her go. At any rate, she retrieved the Volvo
from the lot and drove to Napa County. The two "sightings" of Tracy
that the police had investigated most thoroughly were probably genuine;
she would have had to travel via the Bay Bridge, where the former
classmate claimed to have seen her, and could very well have stopped
for groceries at the convenience store outside of Berkeley.

But that wasn't quite right. It left too much time unaccounted for.
What had she done between ten o'clock and twelve-thirty A.M., when
she'd supposedly driven across the bridge?
Gone home for the keys to the cottage. And gone to Emmons's apartment,
as she'd told Bobby she intended to do? No way of knowing.

Then what?

If I followed what Lisa had told me to a logical conclusion, in his
rage Larkey had taken the gun from behind the bar, driven to the river,
shot Tracy, and concealed her body. The shooting had taken place in the
Volvo—perhaps she'd been trying to escape—and after Jay told Kathy what
had happened, she'd decided it was less of a risk to leave the car at
the cottage temporarily than to reclaim it and attempt to clean the
bloodstains. I was sure Kathy had had no difficulty convincing Jim Fox,
Rob's assistant, to report it stolen. But how had she explained that to
her husband? Wouldn't she have had to tell him who was using the Volvo
when they'd driven home from the club together the night before?

I thought about the relationship between the Sorianos. The one time
I'd seen them together, they'd seemed to be in different worlds. She
prattled on, he barely listened. Given that type of interaction, she
also would have had no difficulty convincing him he'd misheard, that
she'd actually loaned the car to Fox.

All right, I thought, at that point it's safe to assume that Kathy
became an accessory. She aided Jay in fabricating the so-called
kidnapping. And it would have required two people to move the Volvo
from the cottage to the isolated ravine in the Santa Cruz Mountains.
Later, when police attention focused seriously on Foster, she made sure
the notebook he'd used for his GED studies—and she and Jay had used as
a blueprint for the ransom note—was passed on to them. After I
discovered Tracy's remains, Jay switched her dental records with those
of a frightened young woman whom Kathy had given money to leave town
for good. Their reasoning, undoubtedly, was that lacking a positive
identification of those
remains, the conviction against Foster would stand.