Something's Knot Kosher (9 page)

C
HAPTER
15

Birdie sat in the front passenger seat holding on to the grab bar above the door. I sat directly behind her, with my Double Wedding Ring quilt on my lap. Jazz also sat in the backseat, holding Zsa Zsa's yellow carry-all.

Jazz's phone rang. “No, Johnny absolutely cannot wear yellow. It makes his skin look too sallow. He needs pinks and blues. Just tell him I said so.” He closed his phone and looked up. “Just between you and me, that man is beginning to show his age. It's a good thing I know how to dress him.”

Arthur lay between us, panting and drooling. Every once in a while, he leaned over and snuffled the yellow bag. The little white Maltese popped her head out and he nuzzled her face with his enormous black nose. Zsa Zsa sneezed and shook her head. Today she wore a pink bow and a miniature green cargo jacket with tiny pockets.

“Her traveling outfit,” Jazz explained.

Traffic crawled at fifteen miles per hour on Interstate 5 until we hit Sylmar in the north San Fernando Valley. Once we approached the truck route, the semis and long-haul trucks veered to another road on the far right, relieving the congestion on the freeway. Earl kept the hearse in the right-hand lane and increased his speed to fifty-five miles per hour, about twenty miles per hour slower than the rest of the cars whizzing past us. At this pace we'd be lucky to get to Stockton by nightfall.

The megalopolis of Los Angeles gave way to the parched summer landscape of the Tehachapi Mountains. As we got closer to the Tejon Pass, known locally as The Grapevine, semis and tanker trucks merged onto the freeway again, surrounding our small procession. Fortunately, the truckers kept a respectful distance.

Birdie relaxed and let go of the grab bar. “I think I'll sew a little.” She spread out her appliquéd rooster project and began to stitch a black and brown striped tail feather in place.

I quilted around a Wedding Ring pieced with two dozen wedges of different green fabrics.

Jazz watched my hands intently as I fell into the rhythm of running the needle in and out of the cream-colored background fabric. “Do you think I could try that sometime?”

His interest didn't surprise me. After all, he was a fashion designer and, judging from the workmanship on the silk Maltese shirt, a skilled tailor.

“Sure. You want to try now?”

“I'll wait until Zsa Zsa goes to sleep. She's feeling pretty frisky at the moment.” He relaxed back in his seat and gazed out the window.

For the next several miles, we sat in silence.

I sensed the nose of Lucy's Caddy tilting forward and looked up to discover we were heading into a steep descent toward the San Joaquin Valley. Prominent signs on both sides of the highway pointed to runaway truck ramps.

Birdie's hand flew to the grab bar again, and she scanned the road nervously. Once we reached the valley floor, without being crushed by an errant semi, she relaxed and glanced over her shoulder. “How did you and Russell meet, Jazz?”

I'd been dying to ask the same question but was afraid to. I didn't know what details about Russell's other life Birdie was prepared to hear.

“We met at a musical in San Francisco twenty-five years ago.” Jazz smiled wistfully.

Lucy glanced in the rearview mirror. “Ray and I went to a couple of those when we visited the Bay Area. We saw
South Pacific
and
Phantom
. Which show did you see?”

“A review at Finocchio's.”

“The drag club on Broadway?”

Jazz smiled. “Have you been?”

“I'm surprised Russell would take the chance of being seen in a club for gays.” Lucy held up her hand. “No offense, hon.”

Jazz shrugged. “I know what you mean. But Finocchio's was world-famous. All kinds of people came. Straights and gays.”

“Did you go there frequently?” Birdie asked.

“I should hope so. I worked there.”

“You were a female impersonator?”

“I wish. Those people earned a lot more money than I did. No, I designed and made all their costumes.”

Birdie shifted in her seat. “So how did you manage to meet Russell?”

“It was so romantic.” Jazz's eyes glazed over. “During a break, I went to the bar for a drink. I spotted this gorgeous-looking middle-aged man and sat next to him.”

Russell? Gorgeous?

“He smiled with those blue eyes of his, and my heart just melted.”

“What was Russell doing in San Francisco?” I asked.

“Attending some conference at the Fairmont. We dated every night for the next four days.”

“If you don't mind my saying so, there was quite an age difference between the two of you. What was the attraction?” Lucy had a knack for stating the obvious.

“He was fifty-one and so sure of himself. I was twenty-eight and still trying to make it in the fashion industry. When he offered to set me up with my own business in LA, I knew I had found my Prince Charming.”

And you'd also found a gold mine.
Would Jazz have fallen in love with the older man if Russell had been poor? I put down my needle. “Jazz, last night you never got around to telling us about your conversation with the FBI agent.”

He sat straighter and shifted to face me. “Right. She asked me about our friends, my boutique, every aspect of our lives, really. She seemed especially interested in our finances. It's only when she asked if someone might've had a grudge, that I remembered Cisco.”

“Who?”

“His real name is Francisco. Francisco Conejo. He owned the house next door. When the recession hit, he needed to refinance. Of course, none of the banks would give him money.”

“Why?”

“He didn't have a steady income, and his mortgage was under water.”

“Yes, that happened to so many people,” said Birdie. “Russell felt proud of the fact he kept his bank out of the whole bad loan business.”

Jazz nodded. “Exactly! So anyway, Cisco came to Rusty desperate for money. Rusty approved the loan, against his better judgment.”

I had a hard time picturing Russell as a mortgage Santa Claus. “That seems really out of character, doesn't it? Especially if Russell was such a fiscal conservative.”

“What can I say? Cisco was a friend and neighbor. I guess he caught Rusty in a generous moment.”

“Something doesn't make sense. Why did Cisco hold a grudge? Seems to me he'd be grateful to the guy who bailed him out.”

“He was. He used to bring us plates of divine Cuban food he cooked. Have you ever had fried plantains?
Délicieux!
Anyway, Cisco defaulted on his payments because he couldn't get a job. Between you and me, I don't think he looked very hard.”

“Did Russell call in the loan?”

Jazz nodded. “Rusty had to foreclose. That's when the guy flipped out.”

“Oh, dear!” Birdie tugged her braid.

“Cisco came over drunk one night, screaming and cursing. He said, ‘Nobody takes my house from me. I'll get even with you. When you least expect it.' Then he called Rusty a bunch of names. When he saw me getting ready to do some jujitsu moves on him, he stormed out.”

“When did this happen?”

“About a year ago. Agent Lancet promised to check his alibi.”

Now we knew of two possible suspects who could have hired Levesque to kill Russell Watson: his brother, Denver, and Francisco Conejo. But what about the attempted break-in at Birdie's last week? Why would Conejo want her dead, too? Or was he after something else?

I gazed at the arid landscape. Some sections of the once-green farmland of the central valley now lay fallow and brown. As the historic drought became more severe, the state resorted to water rationing. Farms and orchards in the San Joaquin Valley, the largest consumers of water, were taking the biggest hit.

We'd been driving for two hours when we saw a blue sign announcing a rest area in five miles. Birdie put away her sewing. “I need to go, Lucy dear.”

I sympathized. The older I got, the less able I was to go for long stretches without a pit stop. Lucy picked up the walkie-talkie and pressed a button. “Hello, Earl? Can you hear me?”

The radio crackled. “Roger that, young lady. Over.”

“We're ready for a break, hon. Pull over at the rest stop ahead.”

The right-hand turn signal flashed on the hearse in front of us, and Earl guided the vehicle off the highway to Buttonwillow. The truckers and other motorists walking around the area stopped and stared as he parked the slow-moving hearse discreetly at the far end of the parking lot. Lucy parked the large black Caddy next to him.

I couldn't wait to get out of the car and stretch my legs. My right hip ached from resting so long without moving. No wonder Earl walked with a limp. He'd spent his whole life perched in one position.

The Caltrans rest stop consisted of lavatories, a covered patio, benches, picnic tables, and a green space. A wooden display case covered in glass showed a road map of California. Next to a red dot on Interstate 5, a label in the shape of an arrow said
You are here
. According to the map, we'd covered a third of the distance to Stockton.

Lucy stood texting with a frown on her face.

I walked over to her. “Anything new?”

“Junior found a Beverly Hills lawyer.” Beverly Hills was the code for expensive and ruthless. “He'll try to get a restraining order preventing Tanya from taking the boys out of LA County until the custody issue has been resolved.”

“That should put your mind at ease, right?”

Her lips trembled. “Trouble is, we may be too late. Tanya left this morning with the boys and several suitcases. Junior has no idea where they went.”

“I'm sorry, Lucy.” If the boys were on a plane to Hawaii, no telling when the Mondellos would see them next. “Maybe they haven't left town. Maybe they're just staying at a friend's house.”

“I hope you're right.”

I gave her a little hug and walked over to the vending machines. I purchased a bottle of Arrowhead Mountain Spring Water and swallowed my fibromyalgia meds for the stiffness and pain in my hip. Then I gave Arthur a drink in his shiny aluminum bowl. Zsa Zsa drank out of a very small pink bowl with her name painted on the side. Her tags tinkled together on her rhinestone-studded collar as she lapped up the water.

“Is anyone else hungry?” Jazz asked.

When was I never hungry?

“I could eat.” Earl removed his cap and smoothed back his hair with one quick swipe of the hand. “There's a pretty good place in Coalinga.” He replaced the cap on his head and looked at Birdie. “It's about an hour farther up, if you can hold on that long.”

As we walked toward the far end of the parking lot, Arthur strained at his leash and headed for the hearse.

“No! Leave it.”

He must have smelled death coming from the back of the vehicle, even though Russell's casket was sealed tight. Police canines were trained to sniff out a lot of things, including dead bodies. Dogs could catch the scent of death from just a few molecules in the air. Seven months ago, Arthur dug up a human skeleton buried in someone's yard. I still hadn't told Beavers about that one.

An hour later we sat in the shade of an umbrella outside the Nothing Fancy Café. Arthur lay on the ground under the redwood picnic table, with Zsa Zsa at his side, waiting for clandestine handouts or a lucky crumb. I ordered a tuna sandwich and a Coke Zero. And to reward myself for not having eaten a burger with steak fries, onion rings, home fried chicken, or triple mac and cheese, I finished off my lunch with a slice of homemade apricot pie.

Earl barely spoke a word but kept sneaking glances at Birdie all during lunch. Finally, he took a sip of coffee and said, “So I guess you'll be living all by yourself now?”

Birdie sighed. “It takes some getting used to. My husband and I were together for over fifty years.”

“It's a shame, pretty woman such as yourself. I'm a widower, too.”

“You poor dear. I guess you know how it feels.”

Birdie had no idea that he was flirting with her.

Earl reached up to adjust one of his hearing aids and winced. A shrill electronic whistle came from the vicinity of his head. “Ouch. I guess I need new batteries.”

Lucy frowned. “You better fix that now before we get on the road, hon. In case we have to use the walkie-talkie again.”

He patted his breast pocket. “Don't worry. I brought a whole card full of the little buggers. 'Course, batteries ain't gonna help if the hearing aids go bad. They're pretty old. It's tough to get the VA to spring for new ones.”

Great. What if we have a real emergency on the road? What if his hearing aids suddenly die? I should've demanded Towsley find us a different driver when we had the chance. Now we were stuck with a deaf old man who kept hitting on Birdie.

C
HAPTER
16

We reached Stockton by five that afternoon. The recession had hit the city hard. Windows of storefronts gaped like empty eyes with
FOR RENT
posters. Foreclosure signs stabbed the weedy front yards of several houses we passed. Economic distress screamed from every corner.

Earl's voice crackled over the two-way radio. “Can you hear me, Mrs. Mondello? Over.”

Lucy pressed a button on the radio. “Yes. Can you hear me?”

“Roger. We're on Fremont Street. If you go straight, you'll run right into the Delta Waterfront Hotel. Your rooms are already reserved. Over.”

“Aren't you going there too?”

“Negatory. The hotel refused to let me park overnight. Even in the freight zone. Bad for the image. Over.”

“Well, how will we find you in the morning?”

“I'll be waiting for you outside the hotel at eight. We gotta get an early start. Stockton to Ashland's a long haul. We're gonna drive through the Cascades. Over.”

I leaned forward in my seat and spoke loudly so Earl could hear me. “What's the name of your motel?”

Static hissed again as he spoke. “Royal Palms. Have a nice evening, folks. Over and out.”

The red light pulsed on the rear of the hearse, and Earl slipped into the left turn lane. Lucy tapped her horn twice in salute as we continued toward the hotel.

The Delta Waterfront Hotel towered seven stories overlooking the Port of Stockton. The western sun reflected from a hundred glass windows on the tall structure.

We pulled up under the porte cochere.

“Very ritzy,” said Lucy.

The valet handed Lucy a green ticket. “Nice wheels. I seen one of these at a car museum once.”

Lucy unlocked the trunk, while the rest of us got out and stretched. A uniformed bellman wearing white gloves wheeled a rolling platform on a brass frame toward the rear of the Caddy, where he unloaded our luggage—five suitcases, two bags of dog food, and Zsa Zsa's leopardprint bed. I hoped Towsley remembered to book pet-friendly rooms.

We ended up in three ground floor rooms with garden access to accommodate the dogs. Lucy and Birdie took the double next to my room, and we left the connecting door between us open so Arthur could get to Birdie if Rene Levesque followed us to Stockton. Jazz and Zsa Zsa took the room on the other side of mine.

We met up again in the hotel restaurant at six-thirty. Birdie and I still wore our traveling clothes, but Lucy and Jazz had freshened up. Jazz wore a white linen suit with a lavender T-shirt and yellow scarf hanging loose around his neck. He smiled when he saw Lucy. She had changed into a pink blouse and slacks with the same yellow shoes from the morning. “You look très chic, darling. Very fresh. Emeralds would really pop with that outfit.”

“I'll be sure to ask Ray to run right out and get me some tomorrow.”

Birdie laughed. “He would, too.” She looked at Jazz. “What did you do with the dogs?”

He inclined his head in the general direction of our rooms. “They're keeping each other company at my place.”

The hostess showed us to a table covered with a white cloth and sparkling wineglasses. I draped my purse, with the Browning inside, over the back of my chair. Lucy kept her purse, with the Glock, on her lap.

“Is anyone besides me going to have a drink?” Jazz ordered a cosmopolitan. The three of us women shared a bottle of chilled California chardonnay. Half an hour later, our dinner plates arrived, along with a bottle of rich California burgundy.

All during the meal, Birdie kept looking at her watch and Lucy kept checking her phone for new texts. Jazz had just pronounced his dessert of crème brûlée
magnifique
when Birdie said, “It's nearly time for
Rizzoli & Isles
. I don't want to miss one of the few summer series I really enjoy.” She stood. “I already told them to put the dinner on my tab, so you can stay here as long as you like.”

Lucy stood. “Okay. This is my cue to say good night too. Let's meet in the lobby at six-thirty tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

“Lucy dear, you don't have to leave because of me. I'll be fine by myself.”

Lucy patted her purse with the gun inside. “I don't think so.”

Jazz and I watched them walk into the lobby.

He swallowed and turned to face me with deep creases between his brows. “There's something I have to tell you. But I need another drink first.”

While we waited for the server to bring him a cosmo, he drummed his fingers on the table. Finally, his ruby red drink arrived in a martini glass with a slice of lime perched on the rim. As the server placed a napkin on the table, Jazz said, “Bring two more.” He upended the glass and drained it.

His lips trembled and he fanned his face with his hand. “I need a little courage. I'm so ashamed of myself, I can barely say this out loud. You have to promise not to tell Birdie.”

Good heavens. Do I really want to hear this
?

I reached over the top of the table and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Is it so bad?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded vigorously. “I had to tell Agent Lancet, of course. But, in all fairness, I think one of you should know as well.”

The two cosmos arrived. He pushed one toward me. “You'd better have this.”

What could be so horrible that I'd need a drink to fortify myself?

I raised the glass to my lips and took a sip. The cranberry juice and triple sec masked the slightly medicinal taste of the vodka. But I was already slightly buzzed from the two glasses of wine. I put the drink back on the table.

Jazz swallowed half his cocktail. He couldn't meet my gaze. Instead, he looked at the table and twirled the stem of the glass. I waited patiently for him to speak, bracing myself to hear his terrible secret.

He took a slow, deep breath. I could barely hear him over the clanking of dishes and the chatter in the room. “I think I killed Rusty.” He glanced at me quickly to gauge my reaction.

“What?” Surely I didn't hear him correctly.

He drained the second half of his drink. If I had guzzled that much alcohol so fast, I'd be flat on my face. Jazz, however, merely seemed relaxed. I guessed that was one of the advantages of being a tall man. You could absorb more liquor.

“Why don't you tell me about it?”

“Promise you won't tell Birdie? I don't want her to hate me.”

I nodded.

“Pinkie swear?”

“Come on, Jazz, out with it.”

“About three months ago, a man walked into my boutique and said he liked what he saw. I thought he was just talking about the clothes. He ordered three custom suits and a half-dozen shirts. He was very friendly. Each time he came back for a fitting, he ordered more stuff.”

“What's so bad about that? Didn't he pay for the clothes?”

“Oh, yes. He had gobs of money, and I thought he'd be a great advertisement for my clothing line since he's in the public eye. Anyway, he kind of flirted with me and”—Jazz cleared his throat and barely whispered—“I kind of flirted back.”

He raised his hand defensively. “But it was innocent. I would never have cheated on Rusty. He was the real love of my life. Before I met him, I had the worst luck in the romance department. You know?”

“Unfortunately, I do. I helped put my ex-husband through medical school, then he cheated with someone else's wife and dumped me. None of my other relationships ended well, either. But, getting back to your story, how did your innocent flirtation lead to Russell's murder?”

“That client had a serious crush on me. He's young and famous, and I was flattered someone like him would find me attractive. I'm not getting any younger, you know.”

“Welcome to the club. Who is he?”

“I'm sure you'd know him. He's a rapper.”

“I seriously doubt that. The only rapping I'm familiar with is knuckles on the front door.”

His eyes widened. “You've never heard of Li'l Ape Man?”

I think I'm getting that parallel universe feeling again. . . .
“That's the guy's real name?”

“He's notorious! He's a great big blond Swedish guy. Sort of the Abba of gangsta hip-hop. Anyway, Li'l Ape wanted to hook up. I said no, of course, but he wouldn't leave me alone. Even followed me home one night in his red Porsche. That's when the trouble started.” Jazz rubbed his forehead.

I pushed my drink back across the table. “Go ahead. You need this more than I do.”

“You sure?” He didn't wait for an answer. After-dinner drink number three went down as fast as the first two.

“Li'l Ape got out of his car and followed me to my door. He was determined to come inside. Rusty heard us arguing and opened the front door. He told Li'l Ape to leave or he'd call the police. That's when the brute pointed to Rusty and said, ‘No one tells me what to do, old man. You better watch your back.'”

“How creepy.”

“
Vraiment!
Anyway, he turned to go and whispered in my ear, ‘No one ever says no to me.' Then he got in his car and drove away.”

“How long ago did this happen?”

Jazz began to slur his words. “Three weeks. Since then, he's driven by my house every night and bombarded me with texts every day. I begged him to stop. I told him we were keeping a record of everything and were going to show it to the police.”

“He sounds like a classic stalker.”

“The next day Rusty was murdered.” Jazz began to cry. “I think I'm the reason he's dead.”

So now there were three suspects with three very different motives. Russell's brother, Denver, who wanted something that didn't belong to Russell; Francisco Conejo, a neighbor who blamed Russell for losing his house; and Li'l Ape Man, Jazz's stalker, who wanted Russell out of the way. Out of the three suspects, Li'l Ape Man was probably the only one who could easily afford to hire an international assassin.

The big question still remained unanswered, however. Why would any of them send the killer Levesque after Birdie too?

“Your secret is safe with me, Jazz. Birdie never needs to know. Although, I'm sure she wouldn't think less of you. Of course, if it turns out the rapper was the one who hired Russell's killer, everyone will know.”

“Oh,
merci beaucoup
.”

“Listen, Jazz. If Li'l Ape Man had Russell killed, it wasn't your fault. I'm sure Russell would want you to focus on the good things. He loved you. If you ever doubt that, all you have to do is look at the extravagant ring on your left hand. He obviously wanted to get married.”

Jazz touched the ring and cried anew. “My life is in shambles. I'll never get over losing Rusty, and I'll never forgive myself for causing his death.” He dabbed his tears with the end of his yellow scarf. The he grabbed my hand. “I'm so glad we're friends.”

I took a deep breath. “Well, as long as we're sharing secrets, I've got one of my own.”

His eyes widened, and he blew his nose into a cocktail napkin. “I'm all ears.”

“You know Arthur's owner, LAPD Detective Arlo Beavers? He used to be my boyfriend, but we broke up a year ago. Then I started going out with someone else.” How could I explain my history with Yossi Levy, aka Crusher? “My new boyfriend wanted to marry me, but I was too scared. So he left too—supposedly for a work assignment. But I haven't heard from him in five months.”

Jazz reached over and brushed my arm in sympathy. “You poor thing.”

“There's more,” I said. “Now Arlo is acting like he wants to get together again. He's already texted me several times today. He claims he's checking up on his dog, but I think that's just an excuse.”

“That's kind of romantic.” He smiled.

I shrugged. “I've always been attracted to Arlo, but I don't want to cheat on Yossi if there's a chance we can still be together.”

“You should just call Yossi and find out if he still likes you. Otherwise, you might be waiting around for years for a man who's never coming back.”

“I've thought of trying to get hold of him again. But, in all fairness, even if Yossi comes back, I'm not sure I'm ready to get married.”

“You need to make a decision before it's too late. You never know when life can throw you a curveball. Look at Rusty and me.” He started crying again.

I was wrong about bigger men being able to hold their liquor. Jazz Fletcher was flat-out drunk. I helped him stumble back to his room and swiped his key card in the lock.

“You're the best, Martha.”

We found Zsa Zsa curled up in her leopard print bed. Arthur lay on the floor next to her.

Jazz touched Arthur's head. “Nice doggie.” Then he fell across the bed and almost immediately began to snore. I covered him with a spare blanket from the closet. Then I picked up the phone and ordered a wake-up call for his room. After taking the two dogs into the garden for their last potty break of the night, I returned with Arthur to my room.

As promised, Beavers called to check up on me. I managed to keep the conversation short. I was tired and in no mood to chat.

Lucy walked in through the connecting door. “Where've you been?”

“Getting an earful from Jazz. Have you heard anything more about Junior?”

“No, nothing new. What were you and Jazz talking about?”

“Is Birdie awake?”

“No.”

“Good. Jazz just dropped a bombshell, but he made me vow not to tell Birdie.”

Lucy sat on my bed. “Well, dish, girlfriend.”