The Clockwork Teddy (17 page)

“Brad and I were coming into the city this morning to meet our daughter. That’s why we’re all dressed up.” She gestured at our clothing. “But we were so worried about you and your son that we ended up looking for Bronsey.”

“For the police?”

“No, for you. You were one of my main inspirations for becoming a teddy bear artist and I just couldn’t stand the idea of a bad man like Bronsey harassing you.”

Lauren’s eyes softened a little. “Did you find him?”

“Yes, and we talked to him. It turns out he’s as scared as you are.”

“Why?”

“Because he wasn’t working for Lycaon. He’d been hired by another toy company—probably the one that Rhiannon contacted—to buy Patrick from your son.”

“It that’s the case, why was he hounding me to tell him where Kyle was?”

Ash sighed. “That was apparently your son’s idea. Bronsey said that Kyle offered him two thousand dollars to harass you and make it look as if Lycaon was responsible.”

“I don’t believe you. Why would Kyle do that?”

“He thought that if you’d been victimized, it would make Lycaon look bad if it ever came down to a lawsuit over who actually owned Patrick.”

“That’s a lie!” Lauren slapped the chair’s armrest.

“For your sake, I wish you were right. But why would Bronsey make something like that up?”

“That’s obvious. To have an excuse for robbing me.”

“But, that isn’t an excuse. He implicated himself . . . and Kyle.”

“And you’d take the word of that thug over my son’s?”

“Right now we have to, because the police can verify an awful lot of things that Bronsey said. For instance, Bronsey and his partner didn’t break into that room to rob Kyle. Your son knew they were coming. He’d called them. Bronsey went there to buy Patrick and he’d brought a lot of money.”

“This is insane. I think you should—”

“Lauren, Kyle has been feeding you a bunch of big fat lies. And, as a mom, I know how much you don’t want to believe your child could do that to you.” Ash’s voice was stern, yet empathetic. “Now, we’ll leave right now if that’s your decision, but I at least wanted to offer you the opportunity to hear the truth.”

Lauren looked as if she’d just sucked on a lemon, and her knee was jiggling up and down like crazy. At last, she said, “What else did that filth say?”

It took every molecule of self-control I possessed not to raise both my arms and give my wife a series of worshiping bows. Ash had accomplished her mission of moving the interview into the informational Mother Lode and hadn’t had to use fear or intimidation as an impetus. With a start, I realized that I could learn more than a thing or two from her.

Ash said, “Now, I suppose you’re wondering why we believe Bronsey. Brad and I both know that he’s a congenital liar. It would have been easy for him to point the finger at Kyle for the murder, yet he didn’t.”

“This is making no sense.”

“It will. Bronsey told us that he was in the process of testing Patrick when a man with a gun jumped out of the bathroom to rob them. He was wearing a ski mask—”

“That wasn’t a man! It was Rhiannon!” Lauren’s voice was fierce and exultant.

Ash raised a finger to caution her. “We don’t know who it was. Bronsey was pretty certain it was a man wearing a ski mask and a black coat.”

“Take my word for it, the only one it could have been was Rhiannon. God, Kyle is lucky that she didn’t rob him, too.”

“Actually, Bronsey said that Kyle also pulled out a gun.”

“That’s impossible. He doesn’t own a gun.”

Ash glanced at me to respond and I said, “Unfortunately, that isn’t true. The police have proof that Kyle purchased a forty-five semi-automatic pistol about a month and a half ago. That’s a large caliber pistol. Not the kind you use to plunk at tin cans. Guns like that are intended for one purpose only—to kill people.”

Lauren turned to Ash. “Kyle couldn’t shoot anyone!”

Ash nodded. “I hope you’re right. But Kyle
did
help whoever this person was in the ski mask to rob Bronsey and his partner of four hundred thousand dollars.”

“Four hundred thousand dollars!” Lauren looked wild.

“I’m sorry, Lauren. I know this is hard, but you need to know the entire story. Kyle ordered Bronsey and his partner to throw down their guns and hand over the bag of cash.”

“No.” Lauren pointed accusingly at Ash. “That didn’t happen. It couldn’t have. Or if it did, it was because Rhiannon said she’d shoot Kyle if he didn’t cooperate.”

“I suppose that’s possible. But didn’t Kyle tell you that he and Rhiannon were
both
implicated?” Ash gently countered.

“Oh, my Lord, what has she gotten him into? How . . . how did the man get shot?”

I nudged Ash’s knee with mine to let her know that I thought it was probably best if I replied to the question. There was no point in muddying the interview by telling Lauren that Bronsey had accidentally shot Uhlander.

I said, “Bronsey’s partner pulled a gun and the person in the ski mask immediately opened fire. Then it turned into a general gun battle. The detectives are still trying to figure out the sequence of events after that.”

“Bronsey ran from the room with Patrick,” said Ash. “He fell and dropped the bear in the motel parking lot. But he didn’t stop to go back for Patrick, because there was still gunfire coming from the room.”

“And it looks as if Kyle and the other suspect were in such a hurry to get out of there before the cops arrived that they didn’t see Patrick on the ground,” I added.

Lauren held up her hand for us to stop. “But you haven’t answered my question. How was the man killed? Was it with this gun my son supposedly has?”

I said, “No. The victim was shot in the back of the head execution-style with a different caliber gun. The detectives think it was the person in the ski mask that did it and I’m inclined to agree.”

“It was Rhiannon. Just like she must’ve been the one who convinced Kyle to pay Bronsey to rob me, the scheming little bitch.”

I shrugged. “Even so, that still doesn’t let Kyle off the hook.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll try to explain. Right now, it looks as if Kyle and someone else—Rhiannon if that will make you happy—engaged in a conspiracy to commit an armed robbery.”

“But Kyle didn’t shoot anybody!”

“It doesn’t make a difference who pulled the trigger. As far as the law is concerned, both people committing the robbery are equally culpable of murder,” I said somberly.

I declined to add that the district attorney could also allege that “special circumstances” existed in such a case, which potentially meant the death penalty. The poor woman had enough on her plate as it was.

There was an element of panic in Lauren’s voice as she said, “But what if Rhiannon forced him to do it?”

“That’s not what he told you, though. Not that I expect you’d testify in court to Kyle saying anything about assuming responsibility for the murder. After all, you are his mother.”

Lauren’s cheeks flushed.

I continued, “Kyle’s problem is that it looks as if he’s on the run with four hundred thousand dollars after committing a murder. He’s the only one who can change that impression.”

“By talking to the police,” said Ash.

“But they’ll arrest him.”

I nodded. “Yeah, they probably will. But at least he can give his version of the shooting first and cut a deal with the prosecutor. And I can assure you that if Rhiannon is taken into custody first, she’s going to dump a world of crap on your son.”

“But—”

“Hang on, because I need to share one of the ugly realities of the criminal justice system: Juries don’t like to convict women of violent felonies. It’s just the way most people are. They’d rather believe that an evil man led the poor woman astray. Guess who the evil man will be this time?”

“So, Kyle should do the smart thing and surrender himself to Inspector Mauel,” Ash quickly added.

“Can you call Kyle?” I asked.

Lauren looked as if she might be ill. “I would, if I thought he’d answer.” She turned to face Ash and I could see the misery and hopelessness in her eyes. “But Kyle told me that he thought Lycaon had figured out the number he was using, so he was getting rid of the phone.”

“So, you don’t know when . . . or if . . . you’re going to hear from him again. I’m so sorry,” said Ash.

I said, “What can you tell us about Rhiannon? Do you know where she lives?”

“Saratoga, I think. Kyle said something about her having a condo there,” said Lauren, naming a city that was about fifty miles south.

“Do you know what kind of car she drives?”

“I only saw it once, at Kyle’s apartment. It was a dark blue Acura, I think. A sedan. I don’t know the license.”

“That’s all right. Just knowing what kind of car is helpful. And unless you think of anything else we need to know about Rhiannon, I think we’re done,” I said.

Lauren looked exhausted. “And I suppose the first thing I have to do is find my son a good defense attorney.”

“At the risk of offering unwanted advice, can I make a final suggestion?”

She rubbed her eyes and nodded slightly.

“Kyle’s a man now and maybe it’d be best if you let him clean up the huge mess he and Rhiannon have created . . . the mess that they sucked you into.”

Lauren mulled my words for a few seconds and then frowned. Looking up at me, she said, “You might be right. Maybe I have babied him a little.”

I bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying:
Oh, you think?
Instead, I asked, “And are you comfortable staying here alone?”

“Bronsey isn’t going to come here, is he?” There was a fresh tremor of fear in her voice.

Now that we had the information we needed, there was no point in keeping the knowledge that Bronsey was in custody from her. I said, “No. He’s in jail and not getting out anytime soon. But there’s a possibility that the people from the other toy company might come here looking for their money.”

“How likely is that?”

I had a sudden inspiration and replied, “Once this story hits the media—and it will if someone drops a discreet dime to an old reporter friend at the
Chronicle
—not very. The other company won’t want to run the risk of bad publicity, so I expect they’ll write the money off as a bad investment and bring their goon squad home.”

“Good. I’m not going to become a prisoner in my own home.”

“That’s an excellent attitude, but I’m also concerned about Kyle showing up here with Rhiannon.”

“Obviously, my son has made some terrible mistakes, but I know that he’d never hurt me . . . or let someone else hurt me. Besides, I have the feeling I may never see him again,” Lauren said sadly.

“Why?” Ash asked.

“He said ‘good-bye’ at the end of his last phone call. We never use that word. He always says, ‘Love you, Mom, and see you soon.’ ”

“Where do you think he’ll go?”

“I don’t know and I’m going to try not to care.” Lauren pulled a tissue from a box on the end table. Dabbing at her eyes, she said, “Well, he’s a man now and he’s got to live with his decisions. It’s time for me to cut the apron strings.”

Ash stood up. “It’s a difficult decision, but I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“I hope so. Ashleigh, thank you for enduring my temper tantrum and telling me the truth.”

“It wasn’t that bad, but I’m not going to say ‘my pleasure, ’ ” said Ash with a sad smile.

“And Brad, I’m sorry . . .”

I used my cane to pull myself from the overstuffed couch. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You believed you were looking out for the safety of your son, so there’s no way I can fault you for that.”

“So, what are you going to do now?” Ash asked.

Lauren looked toward the stairs. “I’m going to pour myself a big glass of wine, go up to my sewing room, and get as far away from the real world as I can by working on my teddy bears.”

“They are kind of magical that way, aren’t they?” Ash asked.

Lauren gave my wife a shy look. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Ash glanced at me and I shrugged. She replied, “Nothing, I guess.”

“Then how would you like to come over and work on teddy bears with me? There’ll be no talk about Kyle or any of this other insanity. We’ll just have a girls’ day, playing with the mohair. I’d really like that.”

“So would I,” said Ash. “What time?”

“Make it early and you can stay for lunch.”

“I’d be delighted.”

As the women exchanged hugs, Lauren said in an envious tone, “Oh, and please bring one of your bears. I’m dying to get a closer look at how you do your lip-sculpting.”

Fifteen

We drove out of the neighborhood and I pulled into a convenience store parking lot to call Gregg, who I assumed was in Redwood City by now. There were a couple of teenaged boys loitering in front of the store and you didn’t need to be an expert on adolescent behavior to recognize they were waiting for an accommodating adult to buy them some beer. I guess I still look like a cop, because the kids took off when I turned my Ray·Ban aviator sunglasses on them and treated them to my best don’t-make-me-get-out-of-my-police-car stare.

Ash watched the silent episode. “Having fun?”

“Just a little. It’s nice to know I still look the part, even if I can’t back it up physically anymore.”

“I don’t know . . . there are some physical things that you’re still
really
good at.”

“I love it when you bolster my fragile male ego.”

She patted my knee. “Brad honey, I hate to break this to you, but your ego is anything but fragile.”

I pressed the number for Gregg’s phone and he answered on the first ring. “Inspector Mauel.”

I said, “You owe Ash, big-time. I think she’s broken the case.”

“Really? What did Lauren say?”

“Her new version of the story is that Kyle was seduced to the dark side by his gold-digging girlfriend, Rhiannon Otero. He called his mommy this morning and seems to have half admitted that he and his lady love were responsible for the murder.”

“So Rhiannon might be our person wearing the ski mask?”

“Lauren is convinced of it. However, I don’t think we should jump to conclusions. I’ve got no doubts that Lauren also believes Rhiannon is responsible for the crash of the
Hindenburg
and the eruption of Krakatoa.”