The Night Visitor (6 page)

“Do what he wants,” Tom said to the guard.

The guard set his weapon on the stage floor and raised his hands.

“Everyone off the stage,” Danny said.

Tom and the guard moved to stand on the steps.

“Say it, Ro,” Danny said. “Tell them how you shot Junior, how you made him and our family victims, same as the people you’re giving this party for. Say it. Then we’ll see justice done right now. Right here.”

Below, in the audience, Evelyn wailed and reached toward the stage as Leland pulled her away. Richie and Paige had already fled. The head table was empty.

The photomontage of Anya was still being projected. Sensuous lips. Heavy-lidded eyes.

“Say it!” Danny lifted Rory off her feet, strong in spite of his emaciated body. She squirmed in his grasp as they shuffled closer to the edge of the stage.

A police helicopter buzzed in the sky overhead. Sirens in the distance grew louder.

Tom remained a few yards away, his hands raised. “What do you want?”

“You don’t even know who I am, do you?” Danny said to him. He lowered Rory so her feet were on the ground, but he still tightly held her.

The doves were gone, but other visions appeared in Rory’s mind. Hazy images that looked like snippets of film taken with an old Super 8 home movie camera. Something told her to watch, watch with all her might. She pressed her eyes closed.

“Hey, Rory.” Danny nudged the gun more forcefully under her chin. “Open your eyes. Be here. Junior, let her go.”

“Pepitas,” Rory said, opening her eyes, frowning, confused why that word had entered her head along with an admonition:
Say it
.

Police were swarming in now, taking position. A police officer on a bullhorn was talking to Danny.

Rory looked beyond the chaos. She was there and not there. Nothing existed except her, Danny, and the visions.

“Pepitas. You’re walking from a corner market. A neighborhood place. You and Junior. You’re around five or six. Junior would be…what? Eighteen. He buys you a bag of those salted pumpkin seeds.” She smiled. “Pepitas. That’s what they’re called.”

Tom watched Rory, horrified and bewildered.

Rory again closed her eyes. “You love your big brother. I see it in your face, the way you look at him.”

“Stop it!” Danny yelled.

“He lets you carry the bag, and you’re shoving seeds into your mouth. You’re passing a bottle of cold orange Crush back and forth. It’s a hot day.”

Tears ran down Danny’s face. “Don’t do this to me, bro. Come on. It’s not gonna change what I gotta do.”

The police officer’s voice through the bullhorn made as much sense to Rory as if he were a barking dog.

Rory said, “You’re walking on the curb, trying to balance. The curb is high. You slip off it and twist your ankle. Junior picks you up. He carries you all the way home. Junior loves you, Danny. He wants you to be happy.”

“Not fair, bro.” Danny cried harder, his tears dropping onto Rory’s chest. He moved the gun from beneath her chin to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.

There was the snap of a gunshot.

Rory was jolted back to the here and now.

Danny’s body slumped against her.

Rory screamed.

Danny dropped the gun and began to fall forward with his arm still around her, his grip reflexively tightening.

Rory tried to push away but was being dragged. She was aware of Tom and others running toward them, but she knew they would get there too late. She felt a whisper of air as she went over the edge of the stage.

There was an audible gasp as people watched in horror as the two bodies fell six feet to the dance floor. Danny hit first and Rory landed on top of him, her head smacking against the wooden tiles, her body rolling to rest beside his. Blood spread across the floor.

13

Police rushed in. Richard Tate stepped from his hiding spot in the hydrangeas behind the stage with his hands up, still holding his Para
-
Ordnance pistol.

Tom ran from the stage and kneeled over Rory in the spreading pool of blood. She was breathing but unconscious. Tom didn’t know whether the blood was hers or Danny’s. Danny was clearly dead.

Paramedics rushed to Rory and Danny. News helicopters competed for airspace above the estate.

“Mr. Tate, very slowly set the gun on the ground in front of you,” an officer said, his gun drawn. “Clasp your hands on top of your head and slowly back away.” Other officers were in position, their guns raised.

Richard followed the officer’s orders. As he stepped back from the gun, he said, “Hi, John. Hey, Bernie, is that you over there?”

When Richard was a few yards from the gun, the officer who’d spoken to him holstered his gun and approached. “Kneel on the ground, Mr. Tate.”

Richard dropped to his knees. “I don’t believe I know you, Officer.”

“I’m Officer Glen Shortall.” He pulled one of Richard’s wrists behind his back, cuffed it, and did the same to the other wrist. “You have the right to remain silent…”

Another officer recovered the pistol, picking it up with a pen in the trigger guard, and emitted a wolf whistle.

“Guys, I saw my shot and I took it,” Richard said when Shortall had finished reciting his rights.

“Looked like darn good shooting to me,” said the officer who was admiring the pistol.

“How’s Rory?” Richard was still kneeling on the lawn behind the stage. He tried to peer around it. “Will somebody please find out how my stepdaughter is?”

“Will do, Mr. Tate.”

A sergeant approached. “What are you doing, Shortall? Get the cuffs off him.”

Shortall quickly complied.

“That’s okay, Alex. Er, Sergeant Burke,” Richard said. “Man’s just doing his job.” He took the hand that the sergeant offered to help him to his feet.

The sergeant said, “We’ll have to ask you a few questions, Mr. Tate.”

“Ask as many as you need.” Tate brushed off the knees of his tuxedo pants.

Leland Declues approached and said to the sergeant, “I’m Mr. Tate’s attorney.”

Sergeant Burke seemed surprised that an attorney was already there.

Evelyn and Tom quickly walked beside the gurney on which Rory was being transported to a waiting ambulance. Evelyn shouted to Richard, “She’s alive but unconscious. I’m going with her.”

“Sir, we’ll need to ask you a few questions.” An officer jogged to catch up with Tom.

“Sure. Of course.” Tom returned to stand with Richard, reluctantly watching as Rory was taken away.

An EMT spread a tablecloth over Danny’s body.

Richard shook his head. “Can’t imagine what possessed that young man to do that. I didn’t want it to end up like this, but I didn’t see any other way.”

Leland clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Great shooting, Richard.”

Above the scene, on the big screen, the images of Anya were being projected, over and over. Her beautiful, melancholy face seemed to know it all.

14

“Graehme, please go out there and tell the paparazzi something. Anything. My mind is mush.” Evelyn pulled a chinchilla stole around her bare shoulders and hunched forward in a chair in the ICU room where Rory was to be moved. The chinchilla was the only fur she kept out of storage during the summer to use during the cool Southern California evenings.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be fine. You know me. I’m always fine.”

Graehme smoothed a lock of her red hair into place. “Yes, you are.”

“You’d think I’d be used to those vultures by now, but they never cease to amaze me. What a way to make a living, waiting for something bad to happen to prominent people. There were reporters hanging around outside the ICU, for goodness sakes.”

“The hospital’s been fabulous. They’ve assured me that no one unauthorized will get to Rory.”

“They should be accommodating. The Tates have given a bundle to this hospital over the years.”

Graehme squeezed her shoulder through the plush fur. “I’ll go give a statement to the press. I’ll be vague. What else can I be? We don’t know anything yet.”

“Don’t mention Danny Lara. His family might not know what happened. I don’t want the news to come from us.”

“That’s considerate.”

“Considerate? I just don’t want them to sue us. I don’t owe that family a thing. The one son murders Anya and the other tries to murder Rory. And all that sister of theirs does is sing the blues about how horrible the Tates and the Langtrys are. I’m so sick of them and their drama I could spit. Why in the world would I want to be considerate to them?”

“Absolutely no reason, honey.”

“Have you heard from Richard or Tom?”

“The police are still talking to them.”

“Still?”

“And the guests who saw the shooting. The police won’t let them leave until they interview every last one.”

“What a nightmare. I’m giving people their money back.”

“Bull, Evelyn. TOV shouldn’t lose out because of this. We’ll call all the guests and give them the option. I bet everyone tells you to keep the money.” He put his index finger under her chin and raised it. “Chin up. It’s going to be fine.”

She smiled wanly, wishing she believed it.

“I’ll keep you posted.” Graehme left.

Now alone, Evelyn waited. Time in the ICU seemed frozen. After a while, a nurse came in carrying two large plastic bags with handles.

“Mrs. Tate? These are Rory’s belongings. The hospital doesn’t want to be responsible for them.”

“Of course not. Thank you.”

“Especially the gorgeous necklace and earrings. None of us could believe that they’re real.”

“They’re real.”

“Rory has such an eye.”

“She does. Of course I’ve always said that all you need to be well dressed in L.A. is a good purse and a big diamond ring.”

The nurse laughed. “Can I bring you coffee or juice? Tea?”

“Aren’t you dear? Coffee, please. Thank you.”

“Cream and sugar?”

“Black.”

“Would you like a sandwich or—”

“Thank you, sweetheart, but I couldn’t eat a thing.”

The nurse lingered. From years of experience, Evelyn knew what was coming.

“Mrs. Tate, this is a bad time, I know, but I wanted to tell you that I’m a big fan of yours. You look fabulous.”

“Thank you.”

“When they show your movies on TV on Saturday afternoons or in the middle of the night, I watch them whenever I can.”

“Aren’t you sweet? Thank you.”

The nurse left, her footsteps a little giddy.

Evelyn picked through the bags, wrinkling her nose. Rory’s beautiful clothes and shoes were covered with blood. In a smaller bag were the borrowed necklace and earrings of emeralds and pink diamonds. There were flecks of blood on them. She imagined Noah in his shop watching the news and wondering what had happened to his jewelry. She’d give the pieces to her housekeeper, Rosario, to clean before having them returned.

She found Rory’s watch, a vintage piece that had belonged to her grandmother. It was not expensive but it had sentimental value. In an envelope was Rory’s engagement ring—a square-cut yellow diamond surrounded by small sapphires. Evelyn held it in her palm. The ring symbolized hope for the future, dreams realized, new life. She wondered if all that had been taken from Rory, just as easily as the ring had been slipped from her finger.

“Don’t go there, Evie.” She closed her eyes, willing the tears away. She put the jewelry back into the bag and crammed it into her purse.

An older man entered the room. His white coat was embroidered with Dr. Gaspar in navy blue over the pocket.

“Reece,” Evelyn said with relief. She stood and embraced him. “I’m sorry to get you out of bed at this hour.”

“Don’t give it a second thought.”

He pulled a chair close to Evelyn’s and sat. She sat also, her apprehension growing.

He took her hands between his. “Rory has sustained a moderate concussion. I’ve called in one of our top neurologists, Dr. Toshiko Ballard, who will be able to give us a better idea of the scope of Rory’s brain injury. She’s with Rory now. Luckily Rory’s fall was broken by the young man. She’s bruised and may have sprained muscles and tendons but thankfully no fractures.”

“Thank God. A concussion. Reece, that’s not so bad, is it?”

“Head injuries are not to be taken lightly. Based on the tests we’ve run so far, there’s no evidence of bleeding inside her brain, which is excellent news. However, there is cerebral edema. Rory’s brain is swelling in response to the injury. This is important to control because the increased pressure can lead to brain damage. Dr. Ballard will try to assess whether damage has occurred by running tests to determine her level of consciousness.”

“Level of consciousness? But Rory’s conscious. In the ambulance, she came around and opened her eyes. She was trying to talk to me.”

“That’s a good sign, Evelyn, but we’re far from out of the woods. Rory is confused and agitated. She’s disoriented and speaking incoherently. Her responses are inconsistent and inappropriate. She falls back to sleep very easily. She’s not completely conscious. We might say she’s in a light coma.”

Evelyn squeezed the doctor’s hand. “She’s going to get better, isn’t she? She’s going to be okay.”

“It’s still touch and go right now. Dr. Ballard will be able to tell you more.”

Evelyn lost her struggle with her tears.

15

Detective Henry Auburn chewed on a toothpick as he watched Danny Lara’s body being hoisted onto a gurney.

“You know him?” Detective Gabe Rodriguez asked.

“Yeah. Got to know the whole Lara family pretty well when I was working the Five Points shootings.”

“How was he?”

“A great kid. Whole family’s great. Hardworking. Just going day by day. Back then Danny was a senior in high school. A running back on the football team. Popular. A girl magnet.”

“What happened?”

“Beats me.”

The ball guests, band members, catering workers, and event staff were gathered into a corner of the upper garden, where the police were interviewing them. Paige Tate, Evelyn Tate’s daughter-in-law, had picked up the hostess gauntlet and was extracting as much as she could of the prepaid goods and services.