Chapter 20
Walking along Rose Avenue always gave me a sense of calm and belonging. Every house looked welcoming and gave a hint as to what was happening with the people inside. The Millers were having their windows replaced, two doors down, the grass was being taken up to make way for a drought tolerant rock and succulent garden. I noticed that the training wheels were finally off one of the kid’s bikes.
All this should have put me in a better mood but I’d had three hours of sleep last night and was operating on fumes. I should have slept like a baby knowing that Augie and his team had Snyder in custody and were hopefully roping Howard into the case they were building.
But despite my warm, furry bedmate, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jack. Now more than ever I needed to feel centered and focused on the things that really matter. All qualities that came naturally to him. Instead, I had this nagging feeling that everything was about to implode. I’ve had this before and have even given it a name: “impending doom.”
I tried to shake it off and put on a happy face as I entered Penelope’s house.
* * *
“Augie, let me put you on speaker, I’m with the girls and they all want to hear the latest,” I said, doing so and placing my phone on Penelope’s coffee table.
Penelope was hosting Wine Club that afternoon and it was her first time, so she’d gone all out. Lest you think that meant little cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off and scones because she’s English, you’d better think again. Penelope had been a world traveler as a student and was drawn to exotic locations and cuisines. Case in point, today we were treated to Vietnamese finger foods.
Penelope had a tray of rice paper spring rolls filled with veggies and mint served with a tangerine dipping sauce. There were fried wontons with a sweet and sour hot mustard sauce, pickled scallions and spicy prawns, and some sort of rice teacake that melted in your mouth. Her house was equally decorated with souvenirs she’d picked up while globetrotting. I saw old-looking batik fabric that was placed behind glass in a simple frame. There were several lengths of kukui nut leis from Hawaii hanging on a peg and a tapestry with religious art that looked like it could be from the Crusades. There were many other fascinating items that I couldn’t identify, and I made a mental note to ask her about them later.
“Augie, say hi to Sally, Peggy, Paula, and Penelope. You said that you had an update on this Slimy Snyder character?” I said.
“Yes, I do. First of all we dusted the rock for other fingerprints in addition to yours and we got a match with Snyder’s. He’d been in the system from an old arrest back in his ambulance chasing days. That gave us enough to bring him in for questioning. He admitted that he and the developer, Howard, worked together on a real estate project but denied that any part of the mineral rights acquisition business was a scam. Since he never got to complete a transaction with you or anyone else for that matter, there is nothing to prosecute. He still maintains that you are all sitting above vast amounts of oil.”
“I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night,” Sally said. “That guy needs to learn a new song.”
“What did he say about his fingerprints being found on the rock? Was he there that night with Carlos?” Peggy asked.
“He denies being anywhere near Carlos that night or any other. As for his prints, he says that he had taken samples from the basement trench for his sales presentation but that one was too heavy to keep lugging around, so he tossed it back.” Augie sounded tired.
Just as Marisol had called it. How far did her spying really extend?
“That’s about all we’ve got, Halsey, I’m afraid that this is a dead end. We know it was drugs and alcohol that killed Carlos, and frankly, I believe that Snyder and Howard had nothing to do with it. They may be scammers but that’s as deep as they go. For now, naturally we’ll still keep an eye on them.”
I had to agree but I hated it.
“If I remember correctly, Howard was caught with marijuana on him when he was a teenager working as an apprentice,” Paula said.
That perked us all back up again.
“You should check the records, Augie; this would have been around 1975.” Paula was suddenly a font of information.
“Good to know, but doubtful that I’ll find anything. He’d have been arrested as a juvenile and those records often get expunged. If you’re implying that Howard may have supplied this Carlos with the drugs, that’s a stretch, but I’ll follow up. Have a nice afternoon, ladies.”
With that the call disconnected.
“Wow, Paula, great save,” Peggy said.
“Yes, how on earth did you dig that out of the old attic?” Sally asked.
Emboldened, Paula poured herself another glass of wine.
Today Penelope was featuring a Francis Ford Coppola Sofia Rosé. Yes, that Coppola. It was the perfect accompaniment with its excellent concentration of fresh, juicy fruit flavors.
“I just remembered you telling me that Howard had worked for the neighborhood’s old contractor, Sam, when he was just starting out in the business. Sam had built our pergola over the back patio and I’d remembered him saying how disappointed he was in Howard. He told us the whole story. He said the kid was already a real hustler.”
Geez, these people are harder to nail than Jell-O to a wall. I resolved to amp up my efforts in this investigation. I was tired of the merry-go-round. It was time to hit the roller coaster.
* * *
The next day, I decided to pay Paula’s husband, Max, a visit at the small office they rent for the local historical society. This was my chance to talk to him without Paula being present. Plus, I’d been told that it was a really cool place.
The “office” was actually one big room that sat above the carport of one of the oldest homes on Grandview Blvd. The street was so named because it provided views of both the ocean to the west and the mountains to the east. It ran parallel along the top of the gardens and baseball fields. The only way to tell that the place existed was by reading a small brass plaque that was affixed to the white lathing above the garage. A circular wrought iron staircase led up to the entrance.
I knocked and then walked in.
“Well, hello, welcome to our little society.” Max was his usual jolly self.
The space was divided into four sections, separated by large wood bookcases brimming with everything from atlases, a set of encyclopedias, books of every shape and size, and a fascinating array of local artifacts. In the center of the room sat a long dark wood table that must serve as host for their monthly meetings.
“I’m afraid that we’re out of coffee, but I can offer you a bottled water.” Max pulled out a chair for me at the table.
“I’m fine, Max, coffee is not really my thing and it’s too early for wine,” I joked. “I won’t take up much of your time but wondered if you could tell me a bit about the research study you began some years ago on the history of Mar Vista? And also if you intend to continue with the endeavor?”
“Definitely not, that subject has been put to bed and locked away.” Max mimed turning a key.
“That is a shame, it sounded so fascinating. And with all the new building and development going on around us, I’m afraid the history of the area could be buried for good.”
“I agree, which is why we and this exist.” He spread his arms wide to the room. “But I believe that we stopped at the right place in the study.”
“Which was where?”
“Just before launching our investigation into the presence of oil in the area both historically and in modern times. It just got too dangerous.” Max shook his head in disappointment.
“Dangerous in what way, Max?”
“In every way imaginable. Bad things kept happening, they seemed like coincidences at first, but we realized that they were triggered by our activity in the investigation. I remember being up in the gardens to collect soil samples one day, there’d been a rare heavy rainfall for two days prior, and people had seen small pools of oil in places.”
“Wow, what were the test results on the samples?” I could have a baseline here to compare with the sample that I’d given to Frederick.
“That’s the thing, before I could get anything to work with, all the irrigation suddenly came on along with the main power hose. The mud quickly turned to slippery sludge, and the water force pushed me all the way down the garden path to the bottom of the hill. I got banged up pretty good.”
“Max, I’m so sorry. Something like that would deter anybody. Is anyone else interested in picking up where you left off?”
I heard a thud coming from one of the corners of the office, it sounded like someone had dropped a book. Seeing the frightened look on my face Max explained, “That’s Malcolm, come out and say hello to Halsey, son.”
It hadn’t occurred to me that we had company this whole time. Malcolm had been dead quiet, eavesdropping no doubt.
“Hi.” Malcolm showed just his head and neck from behind a bookcase.
“Don’t be shy, join us,” Max said. “Halsey is asking about the oil research.”
He sheepishly walked to the table and remained standing.
“Malcolm was also very interested in the oil portion of this study when he first joined us, so I shared all my notes but watched carefully to make sure that none of the bad omens that had plagued me would continue on with him.”
“None did?” I asked.
Malcolm shook his head.
“And has your research been able to add anything to the oil question, Malcolm?” I was excited by the prospect of new news.
“No, not really. I haven’t had much time to spend on it, we’ve been working for over a year now on cataloging all homes within a four-mile radius that were built before 1920. It’s an exhaustive process,” Malcolm proclaimed.
I’ll believe you, Malcolm, just as soon as those pigs go airborne. “Pity, everybody sure seems hell-bent on finding oil.”
Malcolm’s face paled.
“I’ve taken up enough of your time, Max. This project sounds like a bear and I’m sure that you both want to get back to it.” I rose to leave.
“You mean the 1920s homes?” Max asked, and I nodded while looking at Malcolm.
“We finished that one over three weeks ago, it’s at the printer.”
“Then congratulations are in order,” I said, walking out the door.
* * *
We’d never had consecutive Wine Clubs before, but tough times call for desperate measures. We’d gathered at Peggy’s and this was billed as a “wear your sweats, we’re having pizza and drinking cheap Italian wine” Wine Club.
Of course, with this audience cheap did not equal bad. Since I’d pressed for this meeting, I brought a selection of Puglia Primitivo red wines. They are full-bodied and the notes of dried fruit leather remind me of a Zinfandel.
I recounted my visit to the historical society office in the morning and my conversation with Max. It was a risk and I was hoping that Paula wasn’t going to go all cuckoorama on me. When I added that Malcolm was clearly listening in and then seemed totally disinterested in pursuing the study of oil in Mar Vista, both Penelope and Paula gave me their full attention.
“So while Howard and Snyder are still on the radar, Malcolm’s behavior slides him up into spot numero uno.” Peggy was on her third slice and loving all things Roman.
“He’s an interesting fellow,” Penelope said. “Did Jack and his dog ever pay him a visit?’
“I don’t know,” I quietly replied.
In no time they had circled the wagons around me. I’d told Peggy and Sally about the breakup but this was news to the other two. Sad news by their reactions. Paula proceeded to massage all my pulse points, which felt a tad creepy, and Penelope had brought her collection of Cadbury chocolates and wine gums. We all receded to the carpet and gorged on sugar and alcohol.
“What we need,” said Sally, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling, “is a clear motive for Malcolm to need to kill Abigail immediately rather than waiting the short amount of time for her to die of natural causes.”
“Hmm, what could that be?” Penelope was in the same prone position.
“Let’s talk it out, girls. That’s the best way to solve this.” Peggy had moved back up to the sofa.
“Maybe she had something on Malcolm that he didn’t want getting out? Maybe he wasn’t a relative after all?” Paula proffered.
“Good thought,” I said, “but we do have documents that prove otherwise. And nothing to the contrary has surfaced since her death.”
We fell back deep into thought.
“Maybe it’s not about Malcolm at all?” Sally suggested.
“Go on . . .” I said, knowing this was going somewhere.
Sally nodded. “What if what she had to tell concerned the deed and the ring?”
“Meaning she knew that they were fakes?” Penelope asked. “I know now that the ring indeed was.”
“Let me call Frederick and see if he can now confirm that the deed is also a forgery,” I said, reaching for my cell. I went into the kitchen to get better reception. The call went straight to voice mail, and the girls heard me leaving a message.
When I returned, Paula was up and pacing. “It’s Malcolm, I know it is. To think that he’s been in our home so many times, that he’s worked so closely with Max. MAX! I’ve got to get to him right away and warn him. I’ve got to go right now!”
She made a hasty retreat out the front door.
“It’s not even sunny out,” Sally said, shaking her head at Paula’s craziness.
“It is all starting to make sense,” Peggy said. “If Abigail had discovered or remembered that these relics were just another scam, the product of her and Malcolm’s carnival ancestors, then Malcolm would inherit very little.”
“Hence the reason she needed to be quieted,” Sally said.
“I would never have guessed that the little redheaded runt had it in him,” Penelope said.
“I’ve been wanting to ask for a while, Penelope, why do you dislike Malcolm so much? We’ve all seen it.” Now was the time, I thought.
“Oh that, well, I don’t trust him and I have good reason. I came home late from work one night and wanted to stretch my legs before going to bed, so I took a walk. When I reached his house, I saw that Malcolm was hard at work digging a hole in the soil in a corner of the front lawn. When I asked him what he was doing, he said that his cat had died and he was burying him. I knew that he’d never had a bloody cat. He can barely keep himself fed.”
Curious.