Melissa Bourbon Ramirez - Lola Cruz 01 - Living the Vida Lola (25 page)

Reilly snickered from her corner.

Sadie shot invisible evil-eye darts at Reilly’s back, then made her voice sweet as pie. “We’re a team, Dolores. You need to remember that.”

Over Sadie’s shoulder, I saw Manny look at us.
Ah-ha
. He
was
all-knowing, all-seeing. I knew it.

Sadie studied my whiteboard, her hand on her hip, a picture
of perfect posture and perfectly messy hair. “What about that corporation that owns the tattoo shop?” she said after a few minutes. “I could find the principals for you.”

Manny walked out of his office and came toward us. “Good idea, but Dolores can do it.”

Her voice turned flat. “No,” she said, “I can do it.” She laid her hand on my shoulder and gave a light scorpion squeeze. “Take help when it’s offered, Dolores.” Then she lifted her steely gaze to Manny. “You never know when things will suddenly change.”

Ice shot through my veins, but I forced a smile. “Okay, thanks.”

Sadie’s eyes flashed as she went to her computer. She cued up the search screen and began typing rapidly.

Manny turned on his heel and went back to his office.

And I popped an Advil for my pounding head and aching stomach.

I laid my purse on the conveyor belt at the L Street entrance of the domed capitol building and stepped through the metal detector. Ryan Case’s office, marked with a green name tag on the wall, was on the fifth floor, off the beaten track. He was low man on the totem pole.

I paced up and down the hallway, psyched myself up, and turned back to Case’s door.

A sparring session later might chase away the heebiejeebies that were taking up residence in my body. I did not like being a target.

I steeled my nerves and burst into Case’s suite. A startled assistant popped up from his desk just inside the door. “Can I help you?”

I’d been planning on playing it straight.
My name’s Dolores
Cruz. I’m looking into the death of Emily Diggs
—blah, blah, blah. Screw that. I went with my spastic mood. My new piercing gave me the perfect cover story. “I need to see the assemblyman,” I said, letting my voice inhabit a strain of the hysteria I felt deep inside.

He shot me a
you’ve got to be kidding
look before glancing at his day planner. “I don’t see an appointment, Miss—”

“I don’t have an appointment, but I need to see him.” I wagged my finger at him. “I’m a voter, you know.”

“What’s this regarding?”

“What’s this regarding? What’s this regarding? Let me show you.” I yanked up my shirt to show him my navel piercing. “Just look at this!”

He sputtered, and I glanced down to see what color my stomach had turned to in the last couple of hours. Bluish green with a hint of sickly yellow. Gross. Perfect.

A door opened at the end of a narrow hallway, and a man walked out. His eyes zeroed in on my discolored navel.

I recognized Case from his photo in the
Bee
, although he looked years older now. “Assemblyman,” I said. I didn’t want security called, so I curbed my hysteria slightly. “Just the person I want to see.”

His heavy cheeks pulled his mouth into a perpetual frown, but his eyes lit up. Why not? Here I was, his constituent, in the discolored flesh. “Yes?”

The assistant, looking put-upon now, stepped forward. “She doesn’t have an appointment, sir.”

I shot him the evil eye.
Back off, buddy
. “I have a right to see my assemblyman,” I said. “He works for me, you know.” I looked at Case with his saucer cheeks and slicked-back hair. Yuck. But I managed a smile. “It’s not an unreasonable request.”

“I only have a minute, Miss—”

“Cruz.” Damn. It came out without thinking. Rule number—I don’t know—five or something: Never give your identity away if you don’t have to. I’d been advertising my name all over town. No wonder someone was out to kill me. I’d made myself an easy target. Rookie mistake.

Case just nodded politely. Had his daughter passed on the messages that I’d stopped by his reelection headquarters and that Emily Diggs was dead? There was no way for me to know, but if she had, Case wasn’t letting on.

He flashed a well-practiced toothy smile. Career politician. “It’s fine,” he said to his assistant. “This way,” he said to me, leading me into his office. “What can I do for you?”

I went with my hypothesis. Imagining myself as Emily, I launched into a tirade. “Regulations on tattoo parlors. That’s what you can do for me,” I said. “There needs to be rules that make it safe. Just look at this.” I yanked up my shirt again and pointed to my piercing. “Just look at what he did to me.”

Case brushed a stray strand of slick hair back into place. His face turned the color of my stomach. “Ms. Cruz, please.”

“That tattoo guy said everything would be fine. And look at me now. I know I have an infection! I just know it.” I collapsed onto a straight-backed chair that faced his desk. “He’s a liar,” I sobbed. “I may never be normal again.”

He frowned, his cheeks pressing down on the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps a doctor would be better suited to help you deal with this, Ms. Cruz. Or a lawyer. May I suggest the yellow pages?” He started toward the door. “Now, if there’s nothing else…”

I needed to know if Emily had talked with this man. I went fishing. “A lawyer can’t help me. I have a friend that just died because of a tattoo from the exact same tattoo parlor. I was stupid to go there—” The truth. I faked a sob. “Now I might die, too.”

The sickly greenish-yellowish color drained from his face. “Your friend died of a tattoo?”

“That’s right. And nobody did anything.” I jumped up and pointed at him. “You have to write a bill or a law or something so it’s safer to get tattoos. I can’t believe no one’s ever asked you about this. Isn’t this your
job?
” My voice rose. “There have to be other concerned people. Look at my stomach. Who’s going to want me now?” Besides Jack, of course, which was a given. Except he’d left for Sarah. Argh.

“Miss Cruz,” Case said, opening the door. “You should see a doctor.”

Oh no. I wasn’t leaving yet.
Think, think
. “My friend saw a doctor after her son died. He said it was true. It could happen.” I covered my face and wailed. “Oh God, I’m going to die!” I gave a big sniff and calmed myself down. “I shouldn’t have gone there. Not after poor Garrett—” I looked at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Emily.” I buried my head in my hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.” I squinted and peered at him through my lashes, wondering if my sob story would soften his heart any. Or if Emily’s name would ring any bells.

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What are you talking about?”

Bingo!
“Poor Garrett never saw it coming. One day he’s getting a tattoo, two weeks later he’s dead.” I jabbed my finger in the air again. “That’s not right, you know. His mother was so upset.” My adrenaline was pumping. I tried to bring it down, to ease my tension.

The color had returned to Case’s face, but his tone was guarded now. “His mother?”

“Poor Emily. She knew that tattoo killed Garrett. She
knew
. Why didn’t I believe her?” I sank into a chair and shook my head. “But I didn’t believe her. I just thought she was grieving and n-now
I’m
going to d-die. Just like Emily and Garrett. Why, oh why was I so stupid?”

“The mother’s dead?” He swept back another wayward strand of hair.

I nodded, running my fingers under my eyes. “She drowned. So sad.”

His Adam’s apple slid up and down in his throat as he checked his watch. He walked toward the door. “Miss Cruz, I’m sure you’re not going to die. I’d love to be of some assistance, but I haven’t taken a position on the body art industry—”

“She said she talked with a man who could help her. A politician, she said. It wasn’t you?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid she must have spoken with someone else. I’m very sorry that Ms. Diggs and her son are dead, but I’m sure it’s unrelated to Tattoo Haven.”

Ay, Dios
. I tried not to let my shock show on my face. He’d called Emily Ms. Diggs
and
said Tattoo Haven—all in one breath, but I hadn’t mentioned either by name. He knew the details, so why was he lying?

His face grew hard. Uh-oh. Had he realized his slip?

I jumped up from the chair. Time to end this meeting. “The industry needs regulations,” I said. “You can be the first to demand it.”

Case’s shoulders hunched as he followed me out of his office and into the reception area.

I flashed him my awful-looking navel again before I dashed out the door into the main corridor. “You can save lives, Assemblyman. Think about it.”

I
maneuvered my car into a spot along the curb in front of Mary Bonatee’s house, taking a second to peer up and down the sidewalk. No suspicious characters lurking about. No Muriel. No Case. Thank God.

I stepped along the cracked sidewalk up to the hidden door. My plan was to determine if Emily might have been blackmailing Mary or her father. My pretense in stopping by was to grab some more of Sean’s toys to take to him. Poor kid needed familiar things around him.

Bea pulled the door open with a flourish. “Did you find her?” she said with her first breath. Before I could answer, she wagged a long-sleeved arm at me. “The cops—” Her voice cracked with emotion. “—they say she’s—she’s—dead.”

My heart broke for Emily’s friend. It was true that it’s the people left behind who suffer the most. “I’m so sorry, Bea. I’m doing everything I can to find out what happened.”

She lifted her chin, peering at me from under the brim of her cap. “I know you are. That’s good,” she said, nodding. “That’s real good.” Her gaze dropped to my hands. “Where’s Emily’s notebook? Do you still have it?”

“The journal’s really helpful, Bea. I still need it.” I didn’t elaborate that Manny had handed the original over to the police and that I was using a copy.

She didn’t respond, but just shuffled back to the sitting room and stared at the muted, flickering television. I stood there feeling like I’d let her down. Bea had really cared about Emily.

I pushed my sunglasses to the top of my head, stepped inside, and closed the door. Cool air washed over me. Air-conditioning. God, I loved it. A moment later, Mary walked down the stairs, looking fresh and crisp. I tried not to pat my hair. The leftover curls from my salsa dancing night gave me a Girls Gone Wild look. Mary, on the other hand, was like a mannequin, her short plastic-looking hair staying put even when she shook her head.

“Hi,” I said. Great opening. I blamed my lack of cleverness on my sexual frustration.

“Hi.”

Huh—seemed she suffered from the same ailment. Maybe repressed orgasms were an epidemic. God help us, but we’d survive.

I cut right to the chase. “You heard about Emily?”

She nodded, but her mouth stayed shut.

I wasn’t in the mood to beat around the bush, not considering how she’d held out on me at our first meeting, so I went for the jugular. Mary Bonatee needed to start talking. “Sean’s father,” I started.

She stiffened and tried to set her lips in a hard line, but they wavered. “What?”

“Do you know who Sean’s father is?”

Mary’s shoulders drooped as if she’d suddenly lost the will to fight her conflict. “What does it matter?”

“Everything matters when someone dies violently.” I folded
my arms as if I were a disappointed parent. “You neglected to mention that you and Allison Diggs went to school together. You knew Emily before she moved in here.”

“I played with Ally, so yes, I knew Emily.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this last time I was here?”

Mary’s deer-in-the-headlights gaze dropped to her twisting hands. She was nervous, sure, but my gut told me she wasn’t the enemy. “It didn’t seem important.”

I wasn’t sure it was important either, but it felt more like a lie than an omission. “Did you know Emily and your dad dated?”

She nodded. “It started after my parents got divorced, but it didn’t last very long. Sh—she—”

“You think she broke up your parents?” I finished for her.

Mary hesitated, but finally muttered, “Yes.”

I studied her—could her blame for Emily have turned to hate? She bit her lip, and a flurry of tears slid down her cheeks. “That’s what you meant when you said that thing about parents not understanding the impact they have, right?”

She smeared her tears across her cheeks with her fingertips and nodded. “Sean has my father’s eyes. His features. Does he think I’m stupid? That I wouldn’t put it together?”

I leaned against the staircase. As gut-wrenching moments went, this was spectacular. She was really hurting. “I’m sure he knew he could trust you to be good to Sean.” She stayed silent, so I went on. “Is it possible that Emily could have been blackmailing your father?”

She thought about this, wiping her eyes a final time. “Blackmailing him with what?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Can we go through how Emily came to live here one more time?”

She sighed. “My dad called me at the end of June and said he wanted to let the room to someone. But he
knew
my friend was living here. He had no right to kick her out.”

“But he did it anyway?”

“Oh yeah. Took her to dinner and broke the news. She ended up moving back in with her parents, and believe me, she did not want to do that.”

“Why do you think it was so important to him that Emily move in here?”

Mary shrugged and shook her head. “He said everything depended on it. That I just had to understand.”

“But she lived in Sacramento, right? Why’d she need a new place?”

“She used to have some sort of corporate job, but when she was living here, she worked at a café.” Mary’s brows pinched. “She moved a long time ago, before Sean was born. Took Ally and Garrett and just left. They were in Sacramento still, but I don’t know where. Ally called now and then, but she never said much.”

Maybe it was her obsession with finding out why Garrett had died that prompted the career change as well as her return to her old stomping ground. I went back to my original question. “Could it have been blackmail?”