Played to Death (18 page)

Tuesday, June 30

Scott

Ethan hadn’t called after his visit to Jamie or later in the evening. He hadn’t responded to Scott’s text saying good night. By the time Scott finished his workout and showered the next morning, Ethan had texted, asking Scott if he’d like to help Ethan move into his office at USC Thursday afternoon, then have dinner. Scott had agreed, but he wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.

Scott had never been a fan of hot-and-cold behavior. The first week after they met, he’d heard from Ethan two or three times a day. Since then, they’d had sex once and made the trip to Oceanside yesterday.

Scott felt like he was losing control of the situation - if he’d ever had control at all. He cared about Ethan more than Ethan cared about him.

Something was going to have to give. Maybe he should ask Jamie for some pointers on Ethan management.

When the phone rang, his heart leapt. Scott chastised himself for overreacting and looked at the caller ID.

Jon Eckhoff.

Scott sighed and answered. “Hello, Detective.”

“Hi, Scott. Would it be possible for us to come to your place this afternoon? Around 1:30?”

“Um - sure. What’s this about?”

“We’ve gotten permission to have you set up a meeting with Oliver’s dealer.”

“
Oh
.” Thanks to dealing with Ethan and Dave Brodie, Scott had nearly forgotten that Tristan Oliver was setting up his dealer for another buy. “Okay. Do you want me to do anything before that time?”

“No. We’ll do it all while we’re there. See you then.”

“Right.” Scott hung up.
Damn
. He needed a clear head to deal with this dealer, who might also be tied to Elena’s murder. At the moment, his head was anything but clear.

He climbed to his loft, took the cello and bow out of their case, and began to play.

The door buzzer sounded, jolting Scott out of his reverie. He glanced at the clock. Right on time. He went to the intercom and asked the concierge, “Police detectives?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Send them up.” Scott opened his front door. Thirty seconds later the elevator doors opened and deposited Kevin and Jon.

Scott waved them into his living room. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Jon said, “Water’s fine.”

Scott brought three bottles of water from the kitchen. “Have a seat.”

Kevin said, “We finally got Brian Dalziel to talk to us.”

“How’d you manage that?”

Jon grinned. “Turns out our supervisor went through the police academy with Pasadena’s chief of police, who plays golf with Brian’s father. Conversations were had, obstruction of justice was discussed -
voila
.”

Scott had to laugh. “Good. What did he have to say?”

Kevin sat back, letting Jon tell the story. Jon said, “First, we proved to Brian and Dad that Brian couldn’t have killed Elena. We had the hand measurements from the medical examiner and matched them to Brian’s hands. He’s got really small hands. For a guy.”

Scott nodded. “That’s fine for a violist. For cello, it helps to have bigger hands.”

“Makes sense. Anyway, that calmed them both down some. I think they believed that we suspected Brian. Which we did, but anyway. Turns out that the reason Brian was flushed when he returned from break was that he’d had a quickie from one of the wedding guests.”

Scott snorted. “I bet Dad was thrilled to hear that.”

“Um - yeah, thrilled is not the word I’d use. One of the guests was a girl he knows, daughter of one of the grooms’ friends. They’d made arrangements to hook up at this wedding. They thought it would be awesome to pull it off, so to speak, at a fancy house full of people.”

“So did he actually know anything about Elena?”

“Not much. Remember, he’s in high school. He did remember the Hello Kitty bag and said it was the first time he’d seen it.”

“It wasn’t her usual purse.”

“No. He had also guessed that she was pregnant. They’d played a morning wedding a couple of weeks previously, and she’d run off in the middle of rehearsal. He found her puking in the bushes. And he’d noticed that her already-impressive rack was becoming more impressive.”

Scott shook his head, laughing. “Observant kid. His father must have loved that, too.”

“Oh, yeah. I think Brian’s going to be grounded for a while.”

“Was that it?”

“Yeah. He didn’t have any idea who the boyfriend might be. He’d overheard her arguing with your pal Wiley a couple of times, but Brian himself had argued with her a couple of times, so he didn’t give much credence to that. He confirmed your impression that she was a bitch.”

Kevin said, “You still have your friend’s copy of the Isaacson duet, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Jon set his water bottle on the coffee table coaster. “Grab your laptop.”

Scott went to his office, his stomach sinking. When he returned he sat on the sofa between Kevin and Jon and booted up the computer. Jon said, “Log in to the new chat site. Let’s see if Percival has posted anything.”

When Scott had logged on he searched for @CPercival - and found a post from late last night.

“Looking to buy original Isaacson cello duet,
Andante and Vivace
. Anyone interested in parting with one?”

Scott hesitated, his fingers over the keyboard. Jon nodded encouragingly. “Go ahead.”

“@CPercival: maybe. How much are you willing to pay?”

They only had to wait a minute. Percival must have been monitoring the site for a response.

“@eastman02: $500.”

Jon said, “Play hard to get.”

“@CPercival: That’s not enough.”

“@eastman02: $650.”

Jon said, “Make a counter-offer.”

“@CPercival: Make it $800.”

There was a pause, then, “@eastman02: Deal. IM your phone #.”

Scott said, “Oh,
hell
, no. I am
not
giving my phone number to a murderer.”

“Of course you’re not.” Jon handed Scott a smart phone that looked like one of the original models. “We use this one for these situations.”

Scott clicked on Percival’s name, then the IM icon. When the box opened he said, “Percival?”

“Here.”

Scott typed in the phone number Jon gave him. Percival responded, “Great. Here’s mine. Can you meet Thursday evening? 8:00.”

“Yes. Where?”

“Hotel Bel Air, in the bar.”

Kevin said, “He must be planning to take the score right to Oliver to get his money.”

Scott answered, “I’ll be there. How will I know you?”

A pause then, “I’ll be the one looking for the guy holding a music score.”

Kevin snorted. “Funny guy.”

Scott typed, “Ha.”

“Will text you if plans change.”

“OK. See you Thursday.”

“Right.”

Jon said, “Close the chat box but don’t log off yet. Read some other posts. Don’t act like you were just on here to arrange a deal.”

“Right.” Scott went back to the message board. “I assume this will work like the last time?”

Kevin said, “Same plan, different cops. Detective Garcia will still be there, but this time he’ll be with Detective Pinter, also from our division.”

Scott didn’t care for that. Neither Garcia nor Pinter would have any interest in keeping him safe. He’d like to think that Jon and Kevin would. “Why won’t you two be there?”

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “That’s the night of Jamie’s wedding rehearsal.”

Oh
. Scott opened his mouth, then closed it.

Jon stood. “Don’t worry. They’ll have your back.”

Kevin stood as well. “Detective Garcia will call you Thursday to finalize the details.”

“Fine.” Scott sighed, then got to his feet. “If this goes to trial, will I have to testify?”

Jon grinned. “Trials are expensive. We always go for a confession.”

Jamie

Mid-morning, I got a text from Scott. “How late are you working this evening?”

“5:00. Why?”

“Need to talk to you. Can I come by around 4:00?”

“Sure. Anything I should know?”

“No. Just need some answers. See you then.”

At 3:55, Lance called to let me know that my visitor was here. When Scott appeared at my door, I waved him in. “What’s going on?”

He got right to the point. “How did Ethan get that scar on his torso?”

I hadn’t been expecting
that
. “Um - did you ask Ethan?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t talk about it. All he would say is that he made the mistake of getting involved in one of your cases.”

I had to laugh. Leave it to Ethan to avoid taking responsibility for chasing a stolen manuscript halfway across Europe. “It wasn’t my case, it was Ethan’s. He got me involved, not the other way around, and he’s the one who put himself in danger by doing exactly what the police and I told him not to.”

“What happened?”

I gave Scott a synopsis of the
Ars Scientiae et Medicinae
business and how Ethan had come to be stabbed by Fritz Roewer in the parking lot of a Mexican restaurant in Palo Alto. “We told him not to come to Stanford, and he came anyway. Roewer followed him. When he saw that Ethan had a copy of the Ars, he tried to take him out. If Pete and I had left first, Ethan would be dead.”

Scott drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. I said, “Why is this important to you?”

“Because Ethan’s giving me grief about working with Kevin and Jon on Elena’s murder. He doesn’t want me to have anything to do with it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Being a little bossy, isn’t he, for having dated you - what? Three weeks?”

“Two weeks, two days.” Scott scowled. “And yes, he’s being bossy.” He threw his hands in the air. “The first week after we met, we saw each other every day. We find out that we have you in common, and I don’t see him for five days. Then he calls, we have dinner, he says he wants to go talk to your dad. Then he starts getting possessive.”

I leaned back in my chair. “You know, when you two first got together, I figured you’d have the upper hand. But now…”

Scott scoffed. “That’s a laugh. I’m telling you, Jamie, I don’t need this shit.”

“Then don’t take it. Tell him to get lost.”

Scott’s expression was dismal. I said, “Unless… You’ve already fallen for him, haven’t you?”

“
Yes
, damn it.” Scott jumped to his feet and started pacing, then turned to me. “You know him better than anyone. What should I do?”

“Ethan needs to be managed. You don’t have the upper hand?
Take
it. Manage him. If he doesn’t like it, it’s not too late to say goodbye.”

Scott took a deep breath. “All right. We’re having dinner tonight. I’ll tell him that I’m working with the police until they don’t need me anymore. Period. If that’s a deal breaker for him, he doesn’t have to stick around.”

“Excellent. Go get ‘im.”

“I will. Thanks.” Scott gave me a sharp nod and strode out of the office.

Oy
. I rubbed my temples. No way was I going to continue to hand out relationship advice to either of those two. One thing about it, though - any residual feelings that I might have been harboring in my subconscious for Ethan were well and truly dead.

Scott deserved better.

Scott

Scott pulled into Ethan’s driveway, cut the ignition, and sat there for a minute. He’d never been much of an actor, but he didn’t want to talk about what he had to do on Thursday until dinner was over.

He’d just have to try hard to keep his face from giving anything away.

He picked up the gift bag with the wine and stepped out of the car.

When Ethan opened his front door, the aroma of pasta sauce drifted out. Scott sniffed the air appreciatively. “That smells fantastic.”

“I haven’t made it before, so I hope it tastes as good as it smells.” Ethan accepted the wine with a smile. “Thanks. Come on in.”

Scott had thought he might busy himself with helping to set the table, but it was already set, right down to the cloth napkins which were folded into an intricate ruffle on each plate. He said, “Did you fold those napkins?”

“Yeah.” Ethan blushed a bit. “The cook we had when I was growing up taught me how.”

Scott trailed after Ethan into the kitchen. “Do you need any help?”

“No. Now that you’re here I can boil the pasta, and we’re all set.” Ethan tossed a couple of handfuls of angel hair pasta into a boiling pot then lifted the lid from the sauce pot and stirred a couple of times. “What did you do today?”

Scott tried to keep his tone light. “Ran errands. Thought about what to pack for next week.”

“Next week?”

“Ah, I thought I told you. I’m attending a week-long master class in San Francisco, beginning next Monday.”

“Where are you staying?”

Scott named his hotel; Ethan nodded. “Good choice. I - ah - don’t suppose you’d care for some company, would you? I’ll get my own room.”

Scott’s heart flipped - then he thought,
This doesn’t constitute taking control, Scotty
. “I’d like that, but I’m going to be in class six hours a day. You’ll be bored.”

“Nah. I have textbooks to read and syllabi to write for the fall, and I can look up some old friends.” Ethan gave the angel hair a stir and switched off the heat under the sauce. He uncorked the wine, poured two generous glasses and handed Scott one. “To San Francisco.”

Scott lifted his glass, then took a long drink. Maybe if he had a slight buzz, his news would be easier to tell.

They talked of other things during dinner, mostly other cities they’d visited. Ethan, like Scott, had been all over Europe, and they compared notes. Scott had two glasses of wine and was beginning to feel better.

Maybe Ethan wouldn’t react badly.

They cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher; Ethan refilled their glasses and gestured with his toward the back door. “Come on. Let’s sit outside and you can tell me what’s been bothering you ever since you got here.”

And he thought he’d been doing so well. Scott grimaced. “It’s not exactly bothering me. It’s just that I have to take a rain check for Thursday evening, and I don’t think you’re going to be happy about the reason.”

Ethan’s expression grew somber. “Why?”

Scott took another gulp of wine and a deep breath and plunged in. “I’m going to meet with the dealer of the stolen Isaacson solo.”

Ethan’s expression didn’t change. He said slowly, “Tell me you are kidding.”

“No. It has to be me. I’m the only one that can talk to the guy without him catching on to what we’re doing.”

Ethan sucked in a noisy breath through his nostrils and studied his wine. “Did Jamie talk you into this?”

“What?
No
. Jamie has nothing to do with this. Kevin’s supervisor and another detective are going to be backing me up.”

Ethan’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. “Backing you
up?
You’re not a fucking cop.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware of that. It’s not going to be dangerous. The guy’s just a dealer.”

“I was nearly
killed
by a medieval German scholar.” Ethan thumped his wine glass onto the side table and yanked his polo shirt up, displaying his scar. “
This
is what happened to me.”

Scott thumped his glass down, too. “
That
is what happened to you when you went haring off by yourself. I am not going to be by myself. There will be cops all over the place. It’s just one night, for God’s sake. You’d think I’d cancelled next week the way you’re behaving.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.”

Scott was dumbfounded. “
Seriously?
I break one date and you want to break
up?
”

“
It’s not about the fucking date!
” Ethan leaped to his feet. “Is that what you really think? That I’d be in a snit because you cancelled a date? Is that
all
you think I’m concerned about?”

Scott stood too. His stomach was roiling, and he was afraid that if he didn’t get out of there he was either going to pass out or throw up. He said tightly, “I have no idea what concerns you, Ethan. We have a great night, then you pull away. You throw hints around about the future, then you say you’re not sure. You drag me down to Oceanside, you keep going back to see Jamie - I have no fucking idea what concerns you and what doesn’t. I’m not at all sure that you know. I think maybe you need to figure that out.” He picked up his wine glass, walked into the house and set the glass in the sink.

Ethan was right behind him. “So that’s it? You’re just walking out?”

Scott picked up his car keys from the kitchen counter where he’d laid them and turned to face Ethan. “A young girl is dead. She wasn’t necessarily a wonderful person, but she had a family that loved her. People are grieving because she’s gone. Someone is responsible for that. If the police think that I can help bring that person to justice, then that is what I’m going to do, and I don’t particularly care whether you approve or not. If you don’t, I have to ask myself what kind of person you truly are.”

He walked to the front door and opened it. Ethan followed him, silently. Scott turned in the doorway. “Thank you for dinner.”

Ethan shook his head slowly. Scott walked to the driveway, got in his car and drove away.

He wasn’t sure how he got home. By the time he pulled into his own garage, he was shaking so badly from anger and frustration that he could barely turn off the ignition. He sat for a minute, gripping the steering wheel, then took several deep breaths and got out of the car.