Murder Alfresco #3 (13 page)

They gathered their shoes and socks from the sundeck and hastily put them on. When they joined Joel outside, he was trying to remember the name of the person he’d spoken to when he called the police to ask for permission to come out to Heidi’s house. The officers were listening, but they looked skeptical.

“Let’s just see if we can reach Heidi’s father before we do anything else,” said one of the cops. He turned to Sunny. “And you are?”

She introduced herself and handed over her driver’s license. “Is this your current address, in St. Helena?”

“It is.”

“And you were acquainted with the deceased?”

Sunny nodded.

“How did you come to be in her house today?”

“I came with Joel.”

“You came with this gentleman. How do you know Mr. Hyder?”

Sunny blinked. “We met this morning. At the beach.”

He ran the same questions by Rivka, who provided identical answers. The two officers conferred, then the talker told them to wait while he went to make some calls. His partner stayed behind to make sure nobody went anywhere. He and Joel struck up a conversation about surfing, something the police officer had always wanted to try. It was hot and there was nowhere to sit on the front gangway. Sunny was bathed in sweat by the time they heard the sound of the other officer’s heavy boots clomping loudly up the dock. He handed them their IDs.

“I wasn’t able to reach Mr. Romero to confirm your authorization.” He made eye contact with each of them. “That means I’m going to have to ask you to get your things and leave. If you can confirm the family’s authorization in writing, you can come back later. Otherwise, if I catch you out here again, I’m going to have to cite you. What I’m going to do now is give you a warning. You only get one, and this applies to all three of you, so no more visiting unless you are in the company of a family member or have written authorization from the current owner of the property. Do not remove anything from the property other than what you brought with you today, even if you believe it to be your own possession, as this house and everything in it is still part of an ongoing homicide investigation. On that note, if I wanted to, I could get real nasty about this, and if I get called out here again, rest assured I will do so. For now, let’s just pack up, move out, and lock up.”

“Who called you this time?” said Joel.

“They chose not to identify themselves.”

“Ah, one of our bolder citizens.”

The officer finished filling in the blanks on the forms on his clipboard and handed them each a citation. “We’ll wait while you get your things.”

They locked up, stowed the key under the planter, and walked down the dock followed by the two policemen. There were mercifully few witnesses. Only the preppy trash guy was outside, hosing off his front step. He gave them a friendly wave as they went by, oblivious to their police escort.

In the parking lot, Sunny and Rivka said a terse good-bye to Joel Hyder within earshot of the two officers and walked to the truck. Sunny was about to back out when she saw a white truck pull into the parking lot behind them. Dean Blodger, stone-faced and staring straight ahead, drove past, the Pelican Point Harbor logo on the side of his truck nestled in a circle of arched type. Sunny stared after it.

“Did you see that?” said Sunny.

“What?”

“Dean Blodger driving a white pickup truck with a circular black logo on the door.”

“Who is Dean Blodger?”

“The harbormaster we met this morning. He’s driving a truck exactly like the one I saw on Wednesday night.”

“I thought you couldn’t remember anything about the truck.”

“I remember it was white and had a round logo on the door. That could be the truck.”

“Nine out of ten work trucks are white, and logos are either circular or square. It’s like looking for a medium-sized dog with brown fur.”

“But this white truck belongs to a man who knew where Heidi lived. I could tell for sure if it had its lights on. What time is it?”

“Not late enough to wait around until dark. I vote for getting out of here before things get even more complicated. I’m too fried to deal with the police again, or Dean Blodger, or even Joel Hyder, who must be sitting in his car right now wondering who the hell we are and what we really want. He knew we were lying. Anyway, if that is the truck, we know where to find it.”

Sunny drove out to the freeway and headed north. She floored the gas on the old truck to little effect going up the grade between Mill Valley and San Rafael. Rivka slumped in her seat with her knees propped up against the dashboard. They chugged up a second hill and over the other side. “I think the harbormaster must have called the cops,” said Rivka in a sullen voice.

“Joel Hyder also made a phone call,” said Sunny. “If the harbormaster were concerned enough to nark on us, he would have done it right after we got there. And if he did, it wouldn’t have taken the fuzz four hours to respond. Whoever called did it right about the time we left for our canoe ride.”

“Like around the time Joel made his call.”

“Exactly.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if the harbormaster didn’t mind us being there initially,” said Rivka, “but after a while he figured it was time for us to clear out?”

“Maybe, but it seems like a stretch. Another option is a stakeout. There could be somebody watching the place. If I were law enforcement, I’d watch to see who comes by snooping around. It’s a cliché that criminals return to the scene of the crime, and clichés always have some truth to them. Steve explained it once. He said that crimes rarely go exactly as planned, assuming they are planned at all, so the perpetrator almost always has to rush
or improvise at least part of it. That opens up the possibility of mistakes. Imagine if you committed a serious crime and wondered afterward, ‘Did I leave the stove on? I know I turned off the iron, but did I leave clothes in the dryer?’ They can’t stand it. They have to go back and check.”

“If they were watching, why did it take so long for them to bust us?”

“Maybe someone is just swinging by periodically to check things out,” said Sunny. “Let’s leave that for the moment. There’s something else. I wonder if Steve knows about that key under the aloe vera. If everybody knew she kept a key outside, anybody could have made a copy. Or let themselves in and waited inside. For all intents and purposes, she did not lock her door. Also, that upstairs window looks like it’s always open.”

“You’d need a ladder to get in that window, and if you used a ladder, somebody would see you,” said Rivka.

“Somebody tall and strong enough to pull themselves up might be able to do it.” Sunny turned off the freeway and headed east toward Sears Point. “But they’d have to be small. Joel would never fit through that tiny window.”

“Why would Joel want to climb through the window? You don’t actually suspect him?”

“I don’t know what to make of any of this right now, but all that talk about evil and crushing bones was a little off.”

“His friend was just killed. I think it’s a little harsh to accuse him of murder just because he said some strange stuff.”

“You liked him!”

“I didn’t
like
him, I just don’t think he’s a murderer. He seemed like an okay guy to me.”

“I wonder how much of this Steve has turned up. I mean, does he know about Dean Blodger’s truck? And Joel Hyder? And the guy Heidi was seeing on the down low?”

“You’ve got me. All I know is I’m done thinking about Heidi Romero for the day,” said Rivka. “I’m beat. All that sun and relaxation took it out of me.”

Sunny spent the rest of the drive turning over the facts in her head, and trying to think of a reasonable way to find the guy Heidi had been seeing. If she couldn’t turn up anything more than his first name, she would never find him. Maybe it wasn’t important. That was one person the police would track down, assuming he needed tracking down. Somebody close to Heidi had to know who she was dating, and the police would find them. Next she considered Joel Hyder. Despite her initial impressions, he seemed like a nice enough guy. And yet something about him bothered her. She couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t the rough tattoos or the fact he’d lived in Japan. Plenty of people lived in Japan. That didn’t make them ikebana experts any more than it made them adepts of Japanese bondage. It was something more subtle. A feeling. She searched her mind for what had triggered the sensation of distrust. Why didn’t she trust Joel Hyder? He’d certainly bent over backward to help them. She went over their conversation. Other than his come-ons to Rivka at the beach, nothing in particular leaped out at her. He said he’d gone to Japan after he and Heidi split up. How bad was it? Did she break his heart? Could he be harboring a deep vein of resentment for Heidi Romero? Suddenly the thought clicked. That was it. That was what didn’t fit. Heidi Romero would not have dated Joel Hyder. Sunny pictured the sweep of long black hair falling across Heidi’s chest and the delicate feet with the perfectly pedicured toenails. She may have been a tomboy, but she had a feminine side. Sunny wished she’d taken a look in Heidi’s closet when she’d had the chance. She was sure there would be sexy high heels and short dresses mixed in with the Tevas and fleece.

“I just can’t imagine Joel and Heidi together,” said Sunny. “He doesn’t seem like her type.”

“You never know. He has nice eyes,” said Rivka. “And he seems thoughtful. Sensitive, at least. He’s a good talker.”

“I can’t say why, I just don’t see him fitting the bill.”

“He didn’t. It sounded like she jilted him.”

“I wonder what her story was. She was twenty-six, had a college degree, was obviously very capable and disciplined, and yet she still worked retail. She couldn’t have made much money at that job.”

“She didn’t need to. I bet she didn’t pay her dad much rent.”

“Of course! Her dad owns the houseboat. She was being subsidized. She didn’t need a real job.”

“If you ask me, he subsidized more than rent. That place reeked of Trustafarian. There was about a thousand bucks’ worth of high-end face and hair product in the bathroom.”

“Really. I didn’t check.”

“I always check. Bathroom products reveal all. Alex’s bathroom, for example, contained generic supermarket shampoo, a bar of soap, and a razor. In Heidi’s case, she may have been riding waves on Saturday morning, but she was cruising the Neiman Marcus makeup counter in the afternoon.”

“That lends more support to my theory about Joel Hyder. This is a girl who dates guys with money.”

“Maybe it’s a girl who can afford not to.”

Sunny smiled. “Indeed. Well said.”

Well said or not, she didn’t believe it. Something told her that sporty, rugged Heidi Romero liked to be wined and dined. Rivka sunk down even lower, curled up like a fetus, and closed her eyes. Sunny went back to mulling over the day. What was she to make of Dean Blodger? He was an uptight guy and a neatnik who
probably took it upon himself to alert the police to strangers at Heidi’s house, but was there more beneath the surface? Was there a way to tell how far a person was capable of going?

The first step was to get a look at the taillights on his truck. That was a problem that patience might solve. All she would need to do was drive down to Sausalito and wait around until he drove home after work, presuming it would be late enough to be dark. It wasn’t the most appealing way to spend an evening, but it would be worth it to know one way or the other. She thought about Wednesday night and how the truck’s headlights had illuminated her face as she stood by the side of the road. If that was the same truck, then Dean Blodger had now seen her twice. He’d even been introduced to her. In the unlikely event that he was the man who killed Heidi Romero, and if he recognized Sunny from that night, then her excursion to the houseboat had neatly bridged the gap for him. Instead of an unknowable, untraceable, anonymous witness, she was now a face with a name. It would be easy enough for him to find her. She silently cursed herself for being so careless, so foolish. How could it not have occurred to her before that showing her face and introducing herself all around Heidi’s neighborhood might not be such a great idea? She drove the rest of the way staring sullenly at the road ahead.

Rivka let herself into her apartment and waved a weary hand. Sunny drove straight home. She tried to put the death of Heidi Romero out of her mind, thinking instead of the hot bath she would soak in, followed by the hot chocolate she would make herself, rapidly followed by the bed into which she would burrow, oblivious for a few hours to the existence of Heidi Romero’s killer. Visions of domestic bliss evaporated as she pulled into Adelaide Avenue and spotted Sergeant Harvey sitting in his squad car outside her house.

Sergeant Harvey watched her
in the rearview mirror as she pulled in behind him and parked. He got out of the car when she did. “Good evening, Sunny. Mind if we have a word?”

“My pleasure. Want to come inside?”

“Let’s talk in my car.”

Sunny went around to the passenger side and got in, sneaking a look at the squad car’s array of black gadgetry.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning,” said Steve, “wherever that is, and explain everything up to the point where you and Chavez trespassed on Heidi Romero’s property, dressed up in her clothes, and went for a spin in her canoe. Oh, and while you’re at it, you might as well cover the part where you lie about how you know her.”

Steve stared straight ahead, occasionally flexing his fingers against the underside of the steering wheel, while Sunny recounted the day’s events. The dispatcher’s scratchy communications interrupted her periodically, as did Steve, who showed interest when she mentioned that Joel said Heidi had been seeing a guy named Mark.

“Nobody we talked to knew about any boyfriends,” said Steve.
“I thought that seemed odd. Pretty girl, single. There was bound to be somebody.”

The story—especially the part where she and Rivka changed into Heidi’s shorts—didn’t sound too good, even to herself. When she was done, Steve said nothing for several seconds that felt more like minutes.