Sex, Murder and a Double Latte (26 page)

Now why did that sound familiar? I glanced over at my video collection under the TV set.

“Oh my God, Shannon, that’s it. In
Silent Killer
the first person she killed was in his car. She was hiding in the back seat. The first thing the victim noticed was that the rearview mirror was askew.”

“Did you not just hear me tell you he was drunk? He probably bumped into the mirror when he was crawling into his car.”

I threw my hands up in hopeless defeat. I reminded myself that I had no real interest in convincing Shannon of anything. “One more question. Who’s the other person who believes you?’

“Anatoly,” Shannon replied. “He’s as certain as I am that it wasn’t a suicide. If he wasn’t such an idiot he could help me prove that. Instead I’m left depending on you, as pathetic as that is. Now I really must go.”

“Wait, wait, what did Anatoly say… Hello? Shannon, are you there? Hello?” I slammed down the receiver. “She hung up on me. That cross-burning little tramp just hung up on me.” I wanted to call Shannon back and ask her about Anatoly, but I was afraid that I would just alienate her completely, and the truth was, I might still need her help. Best to call her after a drink. Or a partial lobotomy.

I turned on the television hoping to find something that would distract me while I waited for DC Smooth to call. As it turns out that wasn’t necessary because the buzzer distracted me instead. Had Mary Ann forgotten something? I hesitated before pressing the intercom. “Who’s there?”

“Detective Lorenzo. I hope this isn’t a bad time, but I need to ask you a few questions.”

Well, he was about the last person I had expected. I buzzed him up in lieu of a verbal response and greeted him at the door. He nodded as he entered the flat. His smile lacked the necessary warmth to make it appear friendly. I glanced at my watch. I really didn’t want him to be around when DC called.

“Going somewhere?” he asked before making himself comfortable at the dining table.

“I’m expecting a call from a friend. What did you want to ask me?”

“I assume you’ve seen the news about Baccon.”

I sat opposite him and pushed the newspaper in his direction. “Kind of hard to miss.”

Lorenzo looked at the picture with apparent disinterest. “It was a pleasure to arrest him. He’s a real pervert. But then, you know that, don’t you?”

I didn’t like the way this was going. “I visited him in jail after his arrest, if that’s what you mean.”

“That is what I mean. Why did you do that?” Lorenzo spotted Mr. Katz and made a little motion with his fingers. Mr. Katz took a step closer and allowed himself to be stroked.

Maybe I should have named him Judas.

“I went to see him because I wanted the opportunity to decide for myself if he was guilty or innocent.”

“And what did you conclude?” he asked.

“He’s guilty of being a prick, but I’m not convinced he killed Barbie.”

“Interesting.” Lorenzo stopped petting my cat and took out a notebook and pen. “Do you think he’s responsible for any of the things that happened to you?”

“I doubt it. He has no motive.”

“True.” He scribbled something down. This was getting boring. I glanced over at the TV, which I had left on. Montel Williams was asking why his guest wanted to marry a cross-dressing prostitute. “I was able to get the phone records for the day you claimed to have gotten all the prank calls,” Lorenzo continued. “There was one call from Ooh-La-La Salon, one from a telemarketer and several from pay phones in the Russian Hill area.”

So the caller had been nearby—that wasn’t good. “Marcus called from the salon. As for the pay-phone calls, I didn’t hear any background noise. Maybe something was placed over the receiver.”

“If you’re right about Manning and Baccon, the prank caller could have been a woman.”

I crossed my arms and tilted my chair back onto two legs. “I know you’re suggesting something, but I’ll be damned if I have any idea what it is.”

“One of the phone calls was made from a pay phone outside a nearby Starbucks.”

A gasp escaped my lips. “Anatoly was there that day. He had opportunity.”

“Oh?” Lorenzo laid his pen down beside the notepad. “I wasn’t aware of that. In fact, the only person I’m sure was there was you. You made an impression on the cashier.”

I almost fell backward in my chair. “You’re not suggesting that I made the calls myself.”

Lorenzo picked his pen back up. “You had opportunity.”

“And who do you think picked up the phone to answer the call? Casper, the friendly ghost?”

“I see you have an answering machine. Is that new?”

I shook my head so hard that I experienced a moment of dizziness. Not a good thing, since I was already feeling sick to my stomach. “So you think that I set this whole thing up to make it look like I was being stalked?”

“Your words. Not mine.”

“Yeah, well, they’re your thoughts. And there’s a problem with your theory. The last call I received was a little after 6:40 p.m. Less than ten seconds passed between the time I got that phone call and the time that Marcus Bettencourt came over to pick me up. Feel free to ask Marcus what time he showed up. Even an Olympic sprinter couldn’t run from a pay phone to this apartment in ten seconds.”

“But the last call came from your cell phone.”

Everything froze as I allowed the words to sink in. I had been in the shower, and after that I had had the hairdryer on. And when Marcus had come to pick me up I hadn’t been able to find my cell phone. But it had been in plain view when I got home. I had originally assumed that had been an oversight on my part. But that wasn’t it at all. Had the killer been in my bedroom? Or maybe the closet? My eyes met Lorenzo’s. He wouldn’t believe me. I knew that. And the more nervous I appeared now, the more convinced of my guilt he would become. I had to remain calm and be extremely rational. Most of all, I had to get him out of there.

“Detective Lorenzo, things have obviously changed a lot since the D.A. got those phone records for you. An arrest has been made in Barbie’s murder case, which is the only crime I have reported that has been investigated. With the exception of the statement I gave after Andy attacked me, and I think we can all agree that his crimes are completely unconnected to what happened to Barbie. Mark Baccon has been charged with that crime and is awaiting trial, which means that some, if not all, of the other detectives think he’s the guilty party, and the D.A.’s office obviously thinks it can convict. That means that you are doing this interview based on suspicions no one else in your department shares. And
that
means there is no real reason for me to subject myself to this.” Unless the police thought I was working with Mark…. But I didn’t want to verbalize that just in case he hadn’t thought of it. I rolled my shoulders back and tried to look confident. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m expecting a phone call.”

Lorenzo stood up and walked to the door. “From anyone I know?”

“Yeah, Mr. None-of-Your-Damn-Business.”

Lorenzo laughed, in spite of himself. “It’s always good talking to you.” He went to the door and stepped over the threshold. “By the way, we dusted your car for prints. The only fingerprints inside the car were Mr. Darinsky’s, who I understand drove the car to and from the station, and yours. In fact, some of yours were right around the slashes in the upholstery.”

“Obviously, I touched it after I found it torn up.”

Lorenzo flashed me with another one of his insincere grins. “Obviously.” He calmly turned around and walked down the stairs.

My bravado left with him. The fear I had been repressing washed over me like a bucket of ice water. My arms and legs were numb and my lungs felt like they were lodged in my throat. There was no sanctuary. I could no longer go to sleep without fearing for my life. The same went for showering or even washing my face. How many times had the killer been in my home? And how many times had he been here with me?

The phone rang and I nearly bolted out of the apartment before I remembered the scheduled interview with DC Smooth. I quickly closed and locked the door and crossed the room to pick up. I felt a rush of relief when the operator asked if I was willing to accept the charges for a collect call. Who would have thought that a call from a federal penitentiary could be so comforting?

“Yo, is this Sophie Katz?”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “DC Smooth?”

“That’s me. So what’s this about? They’re tellin’ me you’re some kind of private investigator. Who hired you?”

I stared out the window and weighed my options. I could lie. He might be more cooperative that way. But I was tired and stressed and I was bound to make an idiot out of myself. “Um, no. I’m a novelist. But I don’t want to talk to you about a book or anything. I just think that you’re innocent, I’ve always thought that you were innocent—”

“Yo, hold up. That’s cool of you to be throwing me your support and all, but I’m not talkin’ to fans. I don’t have an unlimited calling plan here, you know what I’m sayin’? I gotta save my minutes for my family.”

“No, wait, I didn’t explain myself well.” I started pacing the room. I couldn’t blow this. “I’m not just calling to give you support. I think that the person who killed JJ Money is still out there. I think he’s the same guy who killed Tolsky, and I think he just killed someone else I knew. I want your help so I can stop him.”

“That’s fucked up, man. I didn’t do shit and I’m doin’ fifty and the motherfucker who shot JJ Money is out there icing people left and right? He’s white, right? They wouldn’t let a brother get away with that shit.”

“I don’t really know if he’s white or not, but I think so. Did you ever meet a guy named Anatoly Darinsky?”

“I don’t think so. What’s the man look like?”

“Tall, about six foot two, dark hair, brown eyes, Russian accent.”

“Naw, I don’t think I know him. Is he the killer?”

“I don’t know. What about Mark Baccon?”

Silence.

“Look, I know this call’s probably being recorded. All I’m asking is if you know him.”

“I met him once or twice in Vegas. I don’t do business with the man. I think he hooked up JJ a few times, but that’s just me speculatin’ here. I don’t know nothin’ for sure ’cept the man’s bad news. People have their reasons for hangin’ with him, but if he didn’t have connections he’d have been ratted out and locked up a long time ago.”

I sat back down. “What kind of connections does he have?”

“You know, it’s like I was sayin’, he knew JJ, maybe a few other pop stars and movie people and shit. I’m not saying nothin’ for sure, though. That’s just shit I heard through the grapevine, you feel me? That’s all I know.”

“He’s in jail now. He’s accused of killing his ex-girlfriend.”

“Yeah? Well, he probably did it. Like I said, bad news. You think he shot JJ Money?”

“Maybe.”

“Fuck, that man has a history that makes mine look like a motherfuckin’ Disney movie. If there’s a chance he killed JJ, why the fuck aren’t the police checking it out? It’s because I’m a brother. The cops look at me and they see black. A black man who beat the system and made it big and now they’re trying to knock me down. This is bullshit.”

“You may be right,” I said. “I don’t know.” I looked out the window at the gray sky. “But I’m going to find out if he did it, or if not him, who did. I’m going to find evidence—I have to—and when I do, they’ll have to let you go. Racism aside, this is still a democracy. They can’t lock people up for no reason.”

“You’re a white girl, huh?”

“Half of me is really offended by that.”

“Look, you think you can get me out, go for it. You know I got a kid comin’?”

“Yeah, I think I read something about that.”

“My woman’s eight months pregnant. She’s havin’ a boy. I want to be there for my kid, you know? I don’t want my son takin’ shit because his daddy’s on the prison block. I’ve done some stupid shit but I didn’t do this, you hear what I’m sayin’?”

“Did you vandalize JJ Money’s car?”

“No, man, I never fuckin’ touched that man’s ride. After he was shot, they questioned me about that vandalism shit, but I was recordin’ that day so they couldn’t pin it on me. If the cops weren’t so set on fryin’ my ass they’d be lookin’ for the guy who did that. He’s probably your murderer.”

I nibbled on my thumbnail. I didn’t think DC was guilty, but the police did have some reason to think that he was, and it wasn’t just because he was black. “I know you answered some of these questions in court but could you tell me how it was that you ended up standing over JJ Money, with the murder weapon a stone’s throw away?”

“Hey, I’ve done some stupid shit in my time. JJ Money and I was never friends. The man was always doggin’ me, and I’ve said some stuff too, but the shit I said was true. So JJ called me that night all hopped up on some dope and he’s threatenin’ me. The motherfucker was even sayin’ shit about my family and my lady. That shit don’t fly with me. I told him he should say that smack to my face, then I hear him talkin’ to some guy in the background because you know that nigger never knew his own mind. Then he gets back on the phone and tells me to meet him at Nell’s.”

“But he never made it to Nell’s.”

“No, man, and that was weird. JJ Money was a pussy, but he knew how the game was played. You don’t challenge a brother and not show. Not in our world. That’s the kind of shit you don’t live down.”

If, while in a drunken stupor, I had called some guy with a violent criminal history to tell him off and that guy then asked to meet me, I’d be a no-show too. But that was me. “So you went looking for him.”

“Oh, yeah, and I found him all right. Fucker was bleedin’ all over the place. I should’ve just taken off, that would have looked suspicious too. There was no winning, you know? I was gonna call the police, but somebody else heard the gun-shots and had already made the call. So there I was. The nigger had been shot with his own motherfuckin’ weapon and they still pinned it on me. I had a piece. If I wanted to kill the man, why didn’t I use that? How the fuck do they think I got my hands on his gun? The whole thing was a setup and I walked into it.”

Mr. Katz hopped up next to me. I moved my feet from under me so as to make a flat surface for him on my lap. “You had your gun with you that night. How come?”