Chapter 23

In my younger days, being asked to step aside would have kept me awake all night. I would have spent the night fitfully shadow boxing the detectives’ comments about my actions with retorts of my own about the department’s ability to be misled by people like the doctor with his generous donations to the Police Protective League. As it was, I didn’t sleep a wink. Not because Romero had made it very clear LAPD didn’t need my help, but because I felt Billy did. And if what Eli and Christina had told me about the doctor’s will was true, then Amy and the baby were in trouble. And Amy had no idea.

My first thought the following morning was to call Lupe and find a way for her to remove Amy from the house. Maybe take her back to Lupe’s own small apartment, where she might stay until I had a chance to clear her name and find whoever was behind Jared’s death. But the longer I thought about it, the more I knew the answer wasn’t that simple. While Dr. Conroy may not have known where Lupe lived or ever been to her apartment, he did know that Amy was friendly with the housekeeper. The moment the doctor couldn’t find Amy, he would question Lupe about the girl’s whereabouts. And Lupe would fold, as might my investigation if the doctor were to have any idea what I was really up to.

My second thought was that I had no proof or clear idea who had killed Jared. My brief encounter with Matthew had left me with as many questions as it did answers. Yes, the boy felt guilty. It radiated off him. But was it because he was involved or just suspicious about his cousin’s death? As for Lupe’s eyewitness report of Matthew standing in front of Jared’s dresser, that too wasn’t enough to prove he had replaced Jared’s pollen-free cologne with one more potent or that he had messed with Jared’s EpiPen. Nor was the fact Madeline had shown up at the mansion with her son and the party bus prior to Jared’s party. All of it suspicious, but evidence? As the detective would say, “None of it enough to drag into a court of law.” On the other hand, the doctor was clearly bipolar, but even in a darkened state, would he have been crazy enough to kill his own son? It was hard to imagine. My thoughts swelled with possibilities.

It’s times like these that I’ve learned to let go and let the universe take over. As a respite, I returned to my garden and tended to my herbs. There’s something about planting, pruning, getting my hands dirty that does wonders for my mind. I knew it wouldn’t be long before something would break, and when it did, I’d be back in the game again. Invited by LAPD or otherwise.

I couldn’t have been in the yard longer than an hour before my cell rang. I put my trowel down, and as I pulled my phone from my apron, my hand tingled. Like a small electrical charge, it ran from the tips of my fingers to my heart. I had felt the sensation before, always with clients with whom I was close and always in situations of great stress. I knew without looking the call was from Carlene.

Her voice was shaking. “The doctor tried to kill me!”

“What?” With one hand on my thigh, I pushed myself to my feet. Getting up and down wasn’t as easy as it once had been. “Where are you? What happened?”

“I had an accident. I nearly drove off a cliff last night in Malibu. The police arrested me, and I spent the night in jail. I called an Uber this morning to pick me up. I was going to call Amy, but I didn’t dare.”

I closed my eyes and had a mental picture of Carlene huddled in the back seat of a car with the phone beneath her chin.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“I’ll be okay, but my car’s totaled. It’s a miracle I’m alive. Someone must have tampered with the brakes. I just had the car in for service.”

“Where are you going now?”

“I have a college friend who has a ranch in the north valley. I called her and told her I needed to hang out for a while. I’m scared. It’s the doctor, I know it. He knows who I am, and he’s on to me.” Carlene sounded out of breath.

“Slow down. Tell me everything that happened, and start at the beginning.”

Carlene sighed and began again. “Yesterday I got this call from Joe, the manager at Mastro’s where I did Jared’s bachelor party. He said a friend had called him, some VIP who works with a lot of celebs. Joe didn’t tell me who, only that whoever was calling was working with some actor who had been in the restaurant the night of Jared’s bachelor party. He left before all the excitement, so I guess he didn’t know Jared had died. He only saw the setup and said he liked it. Anyway, this actor wanted to know if whoever had planned the party might be available to plan a classy event—a birthday party—for the guy’s wife at their home in Malibu. It was all kind of mysterious, but then, that’s Hollywood, right?”

I agreed it wasn’t unusual. The really big stars had personal assistants who seldom used the star’s name when booking hotels or checking out potential contractors for various events. Often times, not until there was a real need to know, was the celeb’s name revealed to the potential hire.

“Anyway, Joe wouldn’t give me the name, and I didn’t think much about it. He set up a meeting at Geoffrey’s in Malibu at seven p.m. and told me he’d given my description to whoever it was. He said I’d recognize the client when he walked in, and I could thank him later. Two hours passed, and when no one showed, I gave up and started back down the canyon. That’s when my brakes gave out. The police said it was a miracle I hit the mountainside and didn’t drive off the cliff.”

“I assume you told the police you thought someone had tampered with your brakes.”

“A lot of good that would do. I couldn’t prove it, and even if I could, you think I’d risk bringing charges against the doctor? The police asked me if I’d been drinking, and when I said I’d had a drink at the bar while waiting for a client, they did a sobriety test. I wasn’t drunk, but because I admitted I had a drink and was pretty shaken, they charged me with a lesser offense. Called it a wet and reckless and that it came with an automatic overnight at the gray bar hotel. Fun, huh?”

Carlene didn’t have to be sitting in front of me for me to know she was still reeling from last night’s experience. She had barely paused to breathe the entire time we talked.

“The thing is, I took Kanan Dune from the valley to Malibu, and the car was fine. But as I drove home, back through the canyon, something happened to the brakes. When I tried to slow down, my foot went straight to the floorboard!”

“And you’re convinced it was Dr. Conroy?” I asked.

“I didn’t see him do it if that’s what you mean. I didn’t have to. The doctor would never get his own hands dirty. He has people who do that kind of thing. Always has.”

“But surely somebody would have seen something? What about the valet? Didn’t you park in the lot?”

“No. I parked on PCH and walked up to the restaurant. I didn’t want to pay a valet.”

Not an unusual practice. Lots of visitors to the area parked along the Pacific Coast Highway to get a better view of the water and save the valet fee.

“I assume you locked the car?”

“I did, but I’m not the only one with a set of keys. The car was my mother’s, a Mercedes diesel sedan, a gift from the doctor. It’s at least twenty-five years old. My mother gave it to me when I graduated from high school. Dr. Conroy always kept an extra set of keys around, probably still has them in the desk in his office.”

Everything Carlene told me fit like a piece to a jigsaw puzzle. Including the idea Conroy wouldn’t have done his own dirty work.

“You think the doctor arranged to have you go out to Geoffrey’s, had someone follow you there, and while you waited around, messed with the car’s brakes?”

“I’d bet my life on it, and something else too.”

“What?” I asked.

“He wanted me to know it was him.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because of Jared’s cologne. I smelled it when I got in the car. In hindsight, I should have gotten out right then, but I didn’t think about it. Jared had been in the car with me a dozen times. I’d smelled that cologne off and on so often I guess it didn’t register. But after the crash, I remembered the scent, and I knew it was no accident.”

A chill ran down my back. Taste and smell can trigger a memory, and in the most traumatized state, crack open an awareness deep beneath our consciousness.

“I started to think back, and I realized there was no way the smell of Jared’s cologne would have still been in the car. The only possible reason was that the doctor wanted me to know this wasn’t an accident. Whoever he hired to tamper with the brakes had sprayed the cologne inside so that it’d be the last thing I smelled before I drove over the cliff.”

My stomach dropped. “Do me a favor. Go stay with your friend, and don’t tell anybody, even Amy, where you’re going. I think it’d be a good idea if nobody knew where you were right now.”

“But what about Amy?”

“I promise you, whatever’s going on, I’ll find out...and it’s going to be okay. Until then, you need to go somewhere safe. I’ll call you when it’s over.”

I hung up and wondered about the doctor and his hired hand. Had the man in the gray sedan also followed Carlene to Malibu and tampered with the brakes of her car? If so, I had a strong feeling that I hadn’t seen the last of him.