Self-Defense (48 page)

“Lovely folks,” he said. “The type who
pretends not to smell the gas chambers.... Okay, so now we know for sure
Sanctum was the last place Karen was seen. But—”

“No proof of any crime. I know.”

“Not without a body.”

“So far Lucy’s dream’s been panning out,
Milo. So the body might very well be right there.”

“After all these years? I can see them
stashing her there short term, Alex. But why would they be stupid enough to
leave her?”

“Arrogance. I’m sure Lowell sees himself
as above the law. And when you get down to it, it’s a pretty safe place. Who’d
think to look for her there? Even if they did, with all that land, who’d know
where to look?”

A sick feeling hit me. “Oh, boy.”

“What?”

“My meeting with App, yesterday. If he
goes checking and finds out my biography story is bogus, he’ll start to suspect
something. If the body is still up at Lowell’s, it could get moved pretty
soon.”

“Don’t scourge yourself, I don’t see that
it makes any difference. Even if no one touches the body, we can’t. Not even
close
to grounds for a warrant. And after all these years, there’s probably
no body to speak of. Animals get hold of bones, scatter them. If App’s smart,
he’ll sit tight and not attract attention to the place.”

“Maybe, but in the past he hasn’t sat
things out. He and Lowell eliminate people who get in the way.”

“So why haven’t they bumped off the Sheas
and Doris? Answer: They’re discriminating. If Gwen’s story is even true. Don’t
forget, all you’ve got to connect App is the Ferrari. Anyone could have been
driving it.”

“But Lucy remembers someone ordering
Lowell around. App would have been in a position to do that.”

“So would Trafficant. And now that you’ve
tossed Mellors into the heap, we’ve got
four
bad guys. So let’s not
start thinking of the dream as gospel.”

“Okay,” I said. “But it’s
maddening—getting so close and not being able to grab it.”

“Join the club. Anyway, let me look into
Mr. App.”

I gave him the producer’s Century City
office.

“At the time of the party his home was in
Malibu,” I said. “On the beach side, no doubt.”

I called Lucy. No answer. I got in the
Seville and headed south to Topanga Canyon.

Just a quick look to see if any cars other
than Lowell’s were parked in front of the lodge house, then I’d turn back.

Or maybe, if it seemed right, another
visit to the old man. Checking to see how he was coping with his loss. At
worst, he’d curse me and kick me out. If he was taking one of his long naps,
I’d try to cajole Nova into another walk.

Into the forest.

Lacy trees.

When I came to the intersection at Old
Topanga Road, I had to stop for an oncoming truck. As I waited to turn left, I
noticed a car parked in the lot of the market across the road.

Blue Colt. A young woman behind the wheel.
When the truck passed, I U-turned and pulled over next to it.

Lucy looked out the window, shocked. Then
she smiled.

We both got out of our cars. She had on a
plaid shirt, jeans, and hiking boots. Her hair was pulled back in a bun.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

She looked back at her car, guiltily. On
the seat were an empty coffee cup and a donut.

“Not much of a lunch,” I said.

“I—you’ll probably think it’s stupid, but
I’ve decided to go up there and face him.”

“Not stupid,” I said, “but the timing
couldn’t be worse. In the last two days I’ve learned things that indicate Karen
Best did disappear at the Sanctum party. And your father paid some people to
keep quiet about it. Other men were involved, too. Other people may have died
because they knew about it.”

The color left her face in patches. “Why
haven’t you
told
me any of this?”

“I’ve tried to call you several times.”

“Oh... I’ve been out.”

“With Ken?”

“No, just driving around by myself. He had
to fly up to the home office. He’s been good to me, but I’ve been happy for the
peace and quiet. Even though all I do is think about Puck.”

Biting her lip, she crossed her arms and
hugged herself.

I stepped closer.

She moved back. “The hardest part was the
funeral. Seeing them throw the dirt over him.... The funeral’s what
crystallized things for me. The way
he
showed up in that horrid white
suit with his bimbo. Making a show of himself, like the whole thing was a big
performance.
Even at a time like that, he couldn’t be decent. It brought
home to me how he keeps doing rotten things and getting away with them. It’s
time someone stood up to him. I’m sorry for not consulting you first, but I
finally need to do
something
for myself.”

“The way I see it, you’ve always been
pretty independent.”

“No,” she said. “Just alone. And now I’m
going up there. Please don’t try to stop me, Dr. Delaware. What’s the worst he
can do? Try to run me down in his wheelchair? Sic his
bimbo
on me?”

“Lucy—”

“And what are
you
doing here?” She
smiled. “You were going up yourself, weren’t you?”

“Lucy, these people are dangerous—”

“Who
are
they? What are their
names?”

“The main guy is probably a film producer
named Curtis App.” I described the way he’d looked twenty-one years ago.

“That doesn’t sound familiar,” she said,
“so maybe he was the one with his back to me... but who was the one with the
mustache?”

“There are at least two possibilities.
Trafficant or another writer named Denton Mellors. Big light-skinned black man.
He had a mustache, though it was skimpy, like Trafficant’s, and blond. He was
one of those murdered, possibly because he knew what had happened to Karen.”

“No,” she said. “The man I saw was
definitely white. And the mustache was thick and dark.”

“Your dream may be accurate in some
respects but not in others.”

She turned and opened her car door.

I held her wrist. “I met with App
yesterday, gave him a phony story about doing a biography of Lowell. He may
find out I was lying and get nervous. He or his henchmen could be up there
right now.”

“No, they’re not. No one’s gone in or out
of the place all day. I’ve been watching the entry from before daybreak.”

“You’ve been staking the place out?”

“Not intentionally. I was sitting there,
building up my courage. I came down here to get some coffee and use the ladies’
room. I was just about to head back.”

“How can you be sure no one spotted you?”

“No one did, believe me. No one even came
close. I was the one doing the watching.”

“You sat from daybreak till now?”

“I know you think I’m being stupid, but I
need to stand up to him and get him out of my life once and for all.”

“I understand that, but this just isn’t
the time.”

“It has to be. I’m sorry. You’re a
wonderful man. I trust you more than anyone—you and Milo. But this is something
that’s been building up my whole life. I can’t put it off any longer.”

“Just a little while longer, Lucy.”

“Till when? You’ve got no evidence on
Karen’s death. The police will never have a case.”

“Till we know it’s safe.”

“It’s safe now. There’s no one up there.
Besides, my going up there won’t look funny to anyone. He wanted to meet with
me. What’s the big deal about a daughter meeting her father?”

“Lucy, please.”

She patted my shoulder. “The patient doing
things for herself. That’s therapeutic progress, right?”

“My only therapeutic goal, right now, is
to keep you safe.”

“I’ll be
fine.
The prodigal daughter
returned. Maybe I can’t solve any crimes, but I can try for personal justice.”

“What kind of justice?” My voice was
sharp.

She stared at me and laughed. “No, no, I’m
not going to play Dirty Harriet—search me for weapons if you like. I just need
to see him. To show myself I don’t need him.”

She got into the Colt. “Maybe I’m making a
mistake, but at least it’ll be mine.”

The car started. “I have to do it now,”
she said. “I may never have the guts again.”

She pulled out of the lot.

I waited until she was out of sight. Then
I followed her.

She drove slowly, and I had to hang back.
When I reached the honeysuckle at the mouth of Sanctum’s entry road, she was
nowhere in sight. I began the upward crawl. A speed-walker could have beaten me
to the double gates. Lucy had left them open. The second pair of gates was
unlatched, too.

A few more bumps up the shaded path, then
the trees parted and I saw the big lodge house, brown as the trunks of the
bristlecone pines that nestled it. The Colt was parked nose out, as far as
possible from Lowell’s Jeep and Mercedes.

No other vehicles in sight.

The front door to the house was shut, and
I figured she’d already gone in. But then she appeared from around the back of
her car—taking something out of the trunk?

No, nothing in her hands. No pocket
bulges.

Her mouth opened as I pulled up.

I said, “Think of it as an extended house
call.”

Expecting anger, but she stared past me.

Blank and focused at the same time.

Hypnotic.

When she put a hand to her mouth, I
thought she’d lost her nerve and I felt relieved, yet sad.

Then she walked quickly to the house,
stomping up the wide porch stairs.

I was next to her as she knocked hard on
the front door.

No one answered. She tapped her foot and
knocked harder. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.”

I looked through the dusty windows. The
big front room was unlit and uninhabited.

Lucy began pounding the door with both
hands. When there was still no response, she dashed off the porch and stood in
front of the house, taking in its bulk.

Walking toward the right side of the
building, her steps were fast and deliberate, scuffing the dust. Another brief
pause; then she continued. Toward the back. Toward the high thicket that rose
behind the house like some great green tide.

I found her staring at the overgrowth.

“Back there,” she whispered.

A voice above us said, “What’s going on?”

Nova, framed by a second-story window, her
face grayed by a screen.

“Hi,” I said, taking Lucy’s icy hand. “We
knocked but no one answered.”

A finger poked the screen. The expression
above it was hard to gauge. “So you decided to come.”

Lucy’s fingers dug into my hand. “Sure,”
she said. “We were in the neighborhood and decided to pop in. Is there a
problem with that?”

Nova tented the screen with her
fingertips. “No. Not unless
Daddy’s
got one.” She gave a strange laugh.
“Come around the front.”

She was waiting for us, holding a glass of
lemonade. The copper in her hair shone like electric wire.

“He wasn’t in any great mood when he went
to bed, but I’ll tell him you’re here.”

“I’ll tell him myself,” said Lucy, walking
past her into the front room. Taking in the stuffed heads, the shabby
furniture, the emptiness.

Staring at the log walls.

Nova seemed amused. Nothing nurturing
about her. Why had she chosen to care for a feeble, cruel man?

Kindred souls, just like Trafficant and
Mellors?

What was her particular brand of cruelty?

Lucy made her way toward the staircase,
moving slowly and cautiously, like a trapper on ice, passing under the steps,
then continuing toward the back room.

Nova put her hands on her hips and
watched, rubbing one foot against the other.

She wet her lips with her tongue and
glanced at me.

Her eyes returned to Lucy and satisfaction
filled them.

Lucy’s discomfiture turned her
on.

Lucy looked up at the ceiling, then the
floor.

Then back to the walls.

Stopping short. Arms straight at her
sides, her face frozen.

She stared at the left-hand door.

Nova said, “That’s right, Daddy’s back
there, dear.”

Despite her smile, tension in
her
voice.

Competition—mock sibling rivalry?

Wanting Lucy to come here, certain it
would destroy her?

I took Lucy’s elbow. She shook her head
and moved her arm out of my grasp.