Unlock the Truth (8 page)

Zeke pressed his lips tight, impressed that Dena had worked into her conversation how long they’d known each other. Why she’d said that she was his girlfriend he had no idea, but somehow it was an odd comfort.

“Don’t look like his type,” Stanton said, with a sliver of sarcasm. He stepped around Zeke and opened the front door.

“Oh, and what is his type?” Dena asked.

“He goes for them fiery redheads, small country-type gals, not city slickers. Always has, haven’t ya boy?”

Zeke continued to walk through the courtyard, not about to succumb to Stanton’s jibes. Outside the courtyard gate, Detective Quimby and another officer leaned up against the Sheriff’s vehicle, deep in conversation. Several officers lingered in the driveway. Deep down he wanted to fight back, to lash out verbally and physically. He had to play the game. Go through the hoops. Listen to Dena’s advice from yesterday.

“Hey Zeke, want me to drive you to Indio, save Deputy Stanton’s time?” Dena asked.

She acted natural, and her heels clicked on the Spanish pavers. Zeke realized he liked the sound. It had been way too long since a woman had worn heels in his house.

“Nah,” he said. “I’ll go in with Dave.”

Dena smoothed her skirt. “I’d planned to go back to Los Angeles, to the office today, Deputy Stanton. But now I’ll stay over, of course.”

Zeke watched her. She must be desperate to find Carli’s murderer. He admired her spunk, and she got under Stanton’s skin and that felt good. It satisfied him on some deep inner level. She shot a grin his way. He couldn’t smile back, much as he wanted to, his face had frozen.

“See you downtown, babe,” she said, hurried over and pressed a soft warm kiss to his lips. Then she spun on her heel and waved a hand toward her car door. “See that hole in my car, Deputy Stanton? That’s from a gunshot.”

Stanton’s eyes widened.

Zeke tried to hide his surprise at her kiss. He touched the tips of his fingers to his lips. She really liked goading Dave. Huh, how about that? Now he could smile. Then Stanton shoved a hand on his head and pushed him down and into the back seat of the cop car, erasing all smiles. Imagine that…being transported in the back…in the freakin’ cage.

“No need to unpack my stuff, Irma,” he heard Dena call out as the door slammed. “I’ll do it when I get home.”

He looked back toward the courtyard. Irma stood huddled inside. She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. Manny stood behind her, his young face worried, and beside him Bob Carmine gripped a soda can. What a weird scene. Zeke sensed the beginning of something new and big. Bigger than anything he’d ever known.

Stanton slammed his car door shut. Zeke settled into the seat and closed his eyes for a second.
Dena kissed me? And she’s staying at Three C’s? How is that going to work out?

He turned and looked through the rear window as the cop car drew away.

Dena slid into the driver’s seat of her car. Several officers came around from the back of his house and climbed into another car. His heartbeat pounded with indignation.

Had they expected him to run?

No sirens blared or lights flashed as the cars spun around in the driveway and headed out to the main road. That was a plus. Zeke swallowed hard against the nausea that rose in the back of his throat. His head pounded again and he closed his eyes. Susie was dead, murdered.

He could remember her smile and her scent; his first love. Regret tore through him that they’d argued. He should have tried to work things out. Why had he requested that restraining order on her? How long ago had that been, three months, or four?

His eyes smarted and he closed them tighter and leaned his head back against the headrest. This had all the makings of being a long day.

Chapter Five

Would this make the papers in L.A.? Dena pressed her mouth tight. The local paper for sure. Yep, this would be all over the
Los Angeles Times
. And if the cops took her statement, well, her name might be mentioned. She’d have to call her boss before he called her. She owed him that.

The cops took a back route. They were way ahead of her but she could still see their cars. Desert landscape mixed with farmland surrounded her. She slowed down, looking for a safe place to make a call. Everything was so flat. Occasional roadside stands that featured grapefruit, dates, and oranges at reduced prices flashed by her windows. She slowed, thought twice about stopping then hit the accelerator.

The long road ahead shimmered with a haze from the afternoon sun. Now she’d lost sight of the cop cars and a tiny tingle of panic began to rise in her chest. She passed by several huge concrete block fences. Each development had wrought iron gates manned by a security guard house; fancy estates with Spanish names. All she could see beyond the tall fences were rooftops. At least she’d reached civilization.

She pulled into a strip-mall parking lot and reached for her cell phone. With the new California laws about hands-free cell calls, she knew she’d have to buy one of those Bluetooth thingamajigs, but who had time to shop? She blew out a puff of air, made sure her car doors were locked, and pressed the number in her auto-dial.

“Tell me this again,” Steve said, and his angry voice grew louder. “You’re working for him without a contract. You said you’re his girlfriend. You entered a restricted crime scene
and
you want me to take over the case.
And
I’m to fire you as of Friday?”

Dena winced at the anger in Steve’s voice. He rarely yelled or showed how upset he was, but with every sentence his voice rose higher. She was in deep, serious trouble. She pulled in a breath and let it out. “That’s about it.”

“Did you reveal that you’re Carli’s sister?”

“No. Not yet. I’ll do that on Monday. I swear Steve, I just need this weekend and—”

“Whatever situation you’ve gotten yourself into Dena, it’s your problem,” Steve said coldly. “I advised you before you left that this could be a conflict of interest.”

“I know,” Dena said softly.

After what seemed an interminable silence, he cleared his throat. She straightened her shoulders, held her breath. While she wanted out, she also wanted to end their relationship on a positive note.

“Dena, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to let you go.”

“I understand—”

“I’m not sure you do. I’m tired of this obsession of yours. Those late night classes you’ve taken have cut into your day-after alertness. You’ve lost your spark. The only thing I’ll agree to is you were fired on Friday.”

Dena didn’t even flinch. “Okay.” It was what she’d expected and she didn’t blame him. In fact, she was relieved, except for one thing. “You won’t take Zeke on as a client?”

“No. From all accounts, he turned you down then you convinced him to let you work for him under duress. I want no part of that.”

“Would you reconsider if he called you?”

“Maybe,” Steve said, and his voice softened. “Look, you’re throwing away your career by playing detective. You’re an excellent communications specialist. I don’t get this—”

“It’s okay. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“You’ve put me in an awkward spot. So, what is your plan now? Did you research Cabrera’s competitor?”

“Not yet, but I’ll stay at Zeke’s estate for a few days. The cops might want to talk to me. I told them I was the reason we were on the hotel property—”

“You’re staying at his home? Is that wise?”

Dena laughed. “I’m his girlfriend, remember?”

She heard Steve pull in a long breath and waited.

“Will he have to post bail?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Dena said. She hadn’t thought about that. “You know what, I don’t think so, but I’m going to the police station now. I’ll notify his lawyer.” She swallowed hard. She wouldn’t tell Steve her car had been shot at.

“Yes, good idea on the lawyer,” Steve said. “I’d do that right away if I were you.”

“They’ve got nothing on Zeke,” Dena said. “They’ll look over his phone transactions. Probably tell him not to leave town because they might have more questions. The local cop was strong-arming him, just being a jerk.”

Steve let out a frustrated sigh and she imagined him smoothing his hair. He always did that when she annoyed him. Like somehow she’d made his hair stand on end, and she probably had, but still.

“Look, I was angry before. I’m sorry…you sure you want to be fired?”

“Absolutely,” Dena said. “I’ve already told the cops that I’m a student taking courses in private investigation and I intend to open my own business. It’s the truth, Steve. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time, just here sooner than anticipated.”

“You’ll have some vacation pay. That should help for a while,” he said, his voice quiet.

“Thanks.”

“You were right about Wendy, she has talent,” Steve said, his voice cheerier. “I’m glad you put in the time to train her. She was way over-qualified for that receptionist position. She handled BJ well on Friday afternoon. But, listen, if you ever change your mind—”

“No, I won’t,” Dena said, and knew she spoke the truth. This was where she was meant to be, it was what she had to do. “Thanks, Steve. I’m sure this is the right decision all around. If my involvement is mentioned in the papers, your agency will be off the hook—”

“Sorry that I lost my temper—”

“No problem.”

“Take care, Dena.”

“Thanks.” Dena clicked off. Then she dialed Zeke’s lawyer and got a message machine. She left her cell phone number and a brief message, told him where Zeke was and why.

Almost out of the parking lot, Dena swung the car into another vacant spot, cursed the missing Bluetooth, and hit auto dial.

“Mom, how are you? You sound happy.”

“I am,” her mother said, and gave a short laugh. “A lady…a neighbor…popped in for coffee. How are you?”

Dena shook her head. That was a surprise. “Good. Um…I’m fine. This is just a quick call.” It was time to come clean. “I’m in the Palm Springs area, for an appointment with a new client. I’ll be home in a few days.”

“You’re in the desert?”

Dena heard the slight rise in her mother’s voice and winced. She’d known what the reaction would be but couldn’t handle any more evasions, plus she might be here for a while. She steeled herself. “Yes.”

“Your Aunt Ruth is coming to stay for a week,” her mother said in a rush of words. “She arrives tonight.”

That was interesting. Dena wondered when that had been arranged. What a piece of luck, although she knew that luck often came with problems. “I don’t want you to drive to the airport.”

“She booked a rental car.”

Fabulous! That would have been the last thing Dena would want, her mother doped up on medication driving to LAX. “That’s good. You’re happy about this? Last time you two argued and—”

“We made up. You know how sisters are.” Her mother’s voice went soft. “I fired the helper.”

“What? Why’d you do that?”

“I told you I don’t like her. Anyway, now I’ll have Ruthie.”

Dena checked her temper. “So how much do I need to pay the woman? Is there severance pay?”

“No. I gave her an extra hundred. She was glad to go.” Her mother laughed. “The woman probably danced all the way to her car—”

“Listen,” Dena said sharply, then quickly softened her tone. “I’ll be out of town for a few days but you can call anytime on my cell phone. Please, please, don’t argue with Ruthie. If you get steamed up, call me.”

“Sure, but we won’t be home much this week. Ruthie has all kinds of plans for us.”

Dena breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness her mother was doing fine, although she did sound breathless and giggly.

“Have fun. Give my love to Aunt Ruthie. I love you, Mom. ’Bye.”

Bless Aunt Ruthie. Her mother would be one less problem to worry about. She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and eased back onto the road, deep in thought. Ruth was their only relative. How sad was that? Their family had almost shriveled up. Her mother had been spoiled by her father. Ruthie often had a problem with her sister’s self-centeredness, but deep down she loved her.

Dena figured she was more like Aunt Ruthie than her mother. But she was also a lot like her father. He’d been a big handsome man. Handsome was great for a man, but not so much for a woman. She’d always felt gawky around Carli and her mother. Not that she was that tall, she barely hit five-five, but compared to their five-two and delicate bone structure—

She ran a hand over her cheek, massaged the side of her face for a moment. Realized she had no idea where the Indio P.D. was. Next car she’d get a GPS, that’s for sure.

She laughed out loud. “Next car, hah, I’m unemployed. I’ve got a sick mother to take care of. I can’t even afford a bike.”

She pulled into a gas station and eased up alongside a Latino male who stood at the gas pump. The tires on his white truck were as tall as the top of her Mustang. He leered at her. He was the only customer.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Can you tell me where the Indio Police Station is?”

The man flashed a grin her way. “You in trouble…preeety lady?”

She didn’t have time for this, but replaced the beginnings of a scowl with a smile. “I’m picking up a friend.”

He leaned toward her window and she was thankful she’d let it down only a quarter of the way.

“He gonna have to make bail?” the man asked, and stared at her handbag.

She shook her head. “No, he’s not in trouble. I just have to pick him up.” Sweat beaded on her brow. Maybe he thought she had wads of money in the handbag that sat in full view on the passenger seat. She started to pull away.

“Don’t worry,” she called out. “No problem, I’ll find it.”

“Eees that way,” the man said, and stepped away from her car. He pointed to the east. “One eleben.”

She gave a quick wave and took off. She’d heard and read about the crime in this part of the valley. It was no worse than in L.A. This was just a smaller population, so it seemed worse.

She headed in the direction he’d indicated. Minutes later she pulled up at a red traffic light and saw a green street sign that read Highway 111.