I stopped the video recording as Slade walked past me. He joined Laurette at a table in front of the coffee shop, a couple yards or so from my bench, which made it good eavesdropping range. He pulled out a chair and helped himself to her coffee.
“Well? What did she say?” Laurette asked.
He shrugged and set the coffee cup on the table. “She was surprised to see me. She thought I was going to stay longer in New Orleans. I don’t know that she’s that thrilled.”
“I’m sorry things are tense between you and your mother,” Laurette said. “Why wouldn’t she be happy that you’re home? Besides, this is just a road trip. We’re going back to New Orleans eventually. Right?”
Slade glided around the subject of returning to the Big Easy, his voice taking on an aggrieved tone. “It’s that jerk she married, the guy who calls himself my stepfather. It was just the two of us after my father left, and we were fine. Then she met Byron.” He spat out the name as though it tasted bad. “He took over her life and he turned her against me.”
“I’m so sorry.” She reached over and put her hand on his. “If there’s anything I can do…”
“Thanks. You’re good for me, you know that.” He smiled at her and I could see how she had been taken in by him. At that moment he looked sweet and vulnerable, emitting charm like pheromones. I might have bought that persona if I hadn’t seen his interaction with his mother.
Laurette stifled a yawn. “I’m really tired. And I want a shower.”
“Hey, I’m the one that did all the driving. Never mind. Let’s head on down to Oakland and get settled.”
“How long are we going to stay? I really want to do the things we talked about, like going down the coast to see Monterey and Carmel. And Big Sur and Hearst Castle. So much to see before we go back to New Orleans.”
“We’ve got to see San Francisco first. How can you come all this way and not see San Francisco? We need to stick around Oakland for a little while, though. I gotta get some money first. For the trip, you know.”
He’d just gotten money from his mother, I thought, wondering how much Millicent had handed over.
“My cousin Marsh is holding some cash for me,” Slade continued, standing up. “He lives in Oakland. After we get a place to stay and settle in, I’ll connect with him. Then we’ll do the tourist thing.”
“At some point we need to do laundry. And I need to call my sister. She’ll definitely want to see us.”
“Will she?” Slade’s mouth twisted. “I don’t think your sister likes me any better than your folks do.”
Laurette’s voice took on a placating tone as she got up from the table. “Now, I can’t come all the way out to the West Coast without seeing my sister. Family’s important, you know.”
He gave a derisive laugh. “So they tell me. That’s your family, not mine. Come on, let’s go.” He pulled the car keys from his pocket. Laurette tossed the coffee cup into a trash can. Then she and Slade walked to the Ford.
I got to my feet and disposed of my coffee cup. My Toyota was across from the Ford. Slade got into the driver’s seat and Laurette the passenger seat. He backed out and headed for the exit. I followed. Slade got onto westbound Highway 24. Once through the Caldecott Tunnel, he headed for downtown Oakland, taking the exit for Telegraph Avenue. He turned left and drove south, turning left again, onto MacArthur Boulevard. There were several motels on this stretch of MacArthur. Slade turned into the parking lot of one of the motels. I followed suit, pulling into an empty parking space. I watched as Slade and Laurette went into the motel office. A few minutes later, they came out and got back into the Ford, moving it to the rear of the building. Slade backed the Ford into a parking spot. They both got out and Slade opened the rear hatch. He grabbed a guitar case and an amplifier, carrying them into the first-floor motel room they’d rented. I got out of my car and put on an A’s ballcap, all in the name of camouflage, in case Laurette remembered me from the coffee shop in Lafayette.
I walked with my head down. The motel room door was open, and I took a sideways glance inside, where Laurette was checking out the room. “I’m so glad they have a coffeemaker and a fridge,” she said. “I like having my first cup before I get dressed. But I like milk in my coffee, so we need to get some.”
I was past the door now. When I reached the soda machine at the end of the walkway, I stood there, pretending to look at the offerings, while Laurette and Slade ferried their possessions into the motel room. I fed some quarters into the machine and pressed the button that got me a can of ginger ale. When I turned away from the soda machine, I saw Laurette outside the room, maneuvering a wheeled suitcase. “As soon as we’re done,” she said, “I’m going to take a long, hot shower. And a nap.”
Slade, standing in the doorway, nodded. “That’s cool. You grab your shower. I’ll go get a few things. Milk, beer, some snacks. What else do you want?”
“I’ll make a list,” Laurette said, heading into the room.
Slade unloaded the last of the stuff from the Ford and headed inside. The door shut and I figured that Laurette was having that shower she’d talked about. I walked past the room to my car, got in and sat for a moment. Slade came outside. There were a few markets in the neighborhood, the kind that had a few staples as well as liquor. One of those was nearby, walking distance from the motel, near the corner of Telegraph and MacArthur.
But Slade wasn’t walking. He got into the Ford, cell phone held at the side of his face as he made a call. He ended the call and tossed the phone on the passenger seat, then started the car, and drove out of the motel lot, onto MacArthur Boulevard. He headed downtown, winding up at Lake Merritt, where Grand Avenue curved around the edge of Lakeside Park. He parked near Euclid Avenue. I did the same. Carrying a tote bag with some items for camouflage, I followed him as he headed into the park. On the path that bordered Lake Merritt, Slade stopped, his back to me. He was meeting someone.
Cousin Marsh.
I recognized Marshall Spencer from the music videos of the Flames that Antoine and I had watched on the Internet. He was a few inches shorter than Slade, with a wiry build, dressed in faded jeans, torn at the knees, and a green Oakland A’s T-shirt. His sandy brown hair curled at the nape of his neck and straggled untidily over his high forehead. Seeing him in person, this close, I could believe he was a drummer. He fidgeted, constantly in motion, moving his weight from one foot to the other and back again, as though dancing to his own internal rhythm. As I watched, his left hand went up and tugged at his earlobe, just as it had in the videos.
My steps slowed. I had my cell phone in my hand, the camera rolling, but my fingers playing on the screen as though I was typing a text message. Then I stopped a few feet from Slade and Marsh. I looked at my watch, then the path ahead, hoping that I looked like I was meeting someone who was late.
Marsh glanced at me, then dismissed me. I strained, listening to see if I could pick up part of the conversation and hoping the microphone on the phone was doing the same.
Slade’s voice was heated. “That’s not good enough, Marsh. I need that money, now.”
Marsh raised both hands in a gesture of supplication. “I get that. But it’s not like I got that much cash with me. It’s in a safe deposit box. No way can I get to the bank and get the cash now.”
A woman approached, pushing a stroller, a toddler at her side. The little boy emitted an excited cry and ran a few steps ahead and onto the grass, heading toward a pair of geese with a brace of fluffy yellow goslings. Mama and Papa Goose both hissed a warning, heads down as they moved to intercept the child. The goslings scuttled away. His mother caught up with him and grabbed him by the arm before the geese could go on the offensive.
Slade took a few steps, heading away from me. He was saying something that I couldn’t quite make out. Marsh caught up with him, gesturing as he talked. But I couldn’t hear. I risked a few steps in their direction, though I couldn’t exactly hang over their shoulders and eavesdrop. I sidestepped a runner who was pelting along the path. The runner swerved to avoid Marsh and Slade, who were headed back this way. Now I could hear Marsh. He tugged on his earlobe again, his voice earnest. “Chill, man. I can get it tomorrow. Just tell me where to meet you.”
Slade was coming toward me. “Chill? That’s a laugh. Things are too hot in New Orleans, and I’m not talking about the weather. That’s why I left. I had to get out of town.”
“Why bring the girl with you?” Marsh asked. “She’s baggage, man. She’s slowing you down.”
“It’s complicated.”
“So, what’re you gonna do?”
As they passed, I stepped onto the grass, checking where I walked, because the geese that inhabited the park were notorious for their copious droppings. I had a paperback book in the tote bag and now I pulled it out, glancing at my watch again before opening to a random page.
Slade mumbled something, then I heard, “She wants to see the coast. I want to go north, to Canada. She wants to go south, you know, Monterey and Big Sur, down to LA and San Diego. Then head back to New Orleans.”
“But you’re not—” Marsh interrupted.
“Going back. Hell, no. She doesn’t know that, though. I told you things are hot. I’m wondering if I should leave the country for a while. You know, get close to a border, whether it’s Canada or Mexico, and just go over. Lay low for a while. She can do what she wants. I’ve got the keys to the car. That’s all I need. That, and money. If I’m going to disappear, I need money to do that. You owe me, Marsh.”
Marsh sidestepped the issue of the money. Obligation or not, he didn’t seem interested in parting with any cash. “What the hell did you do, man?”
He glanced up and saw me, frowning, as though I’d gotten too close. I had my nose in the book, then I raised my phone to my ear, answering an imaginary call. “Where are you? You’re late. Ten minutes? Okay. I’ll be here.” I gave an exasperated sigh and walked a few feet down the path, away from Slade and Marsh. I’d heard enough.
As it happened, the conversation between the two cousins was over. They walked together toward Grand Avenue. Slade headed for the Ford. Marsh crossed Grand at the light, heading up Euclid Avenue. He turned to the left and entered a three-story apartment building, one of many that lined the street. When I looked back, Slade was still sitting in the Ford. I quickly got to my car and followed him as he checked oncoming traffic, then pulled away from the curb. He cut over to Lakeshore Avenue, went under the freeway and turned right into the Trader Joe’s parking lot, ready to get those supplies on the list Laurette had given him.
Poor Laurette, I thought. It sounded like Slade was planning to ditch her as soon as he got the money. It appeared he had engineered this so-called road trip to get back to California to collect money from Marsh. Laurette’s involvement had been the Ford, obviously. It had been purchased mostly with Laurette’s money, and the trade-in of her Honda. I wondered if he’d ever cared for her at all. Moving into her apartment had been his way of dealing with getting evicted from his own. Laurette was a means to an end and she was about to get hurt. I had to tread carefully. How best to warn her? More evidence that Slade was an opportunistic creep—and criminal?
He was certainly trying to outrun his past, but I wasn’t going to let him.
Further investigation of Cousin Marsh would help. I turned around and doubled back down Grand to Euclid. I was familiar with this neighborhood, called Adams Point, because I’d lived in an apartment here for many years before buying my house in another section of town. I checked out the apartment building I’d seen Marsh enter, finding the name spencer on the mailbox for a third-floor unit. Now that I had his address, I could do more research on Marshall Spencer when I got back to my office.
In the meantime, I had a phone call to make. I punched up Davina’s number. When she answered, I said, “Laurette and Slade are in town.”