I had an idea.
As I handed my credit card to the gas station attendant, I pointed a thumb back over my shoulder and asked, “Is that old Bonneville for sale?”
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” He grinned at me from under the bill of his cap. He balanced a clipboard against a denim thigh, ran the slider over my card, then turned the sales slip around for me to sign.
“My uncle bought a car like that the year it came out.”
“No kidding? It’s a classic, all right.”
“Does it run?”
“It will. I’m working on it now. The tranny’s in good shape. Needs a new starter motor, alternator, a little this and a little that.”
“Actually, I’d like to fool around with the engine myself. Kind of a project, you know?”
The gas station guy grinned again and seemed pleased by the idea. He told me to make him an offer, and I put up four fingers. He said, “You wish. That car’s worth a thousand if it’s worth a nickel.”
I held up the flat of my hand, five fingers waggling in the breeze.
“Five hundred bucks is my limit for a pig in a poke.”
The kid thought about it for a long moment, making me realize how much I wanted that car. I was about to up the ante when he said, “Okay, but it’s ‘as is,’ you understand. No guarantees.”
“You’ve got the manual?”
“It’s in the glove box. And I’ll throw in a socket wrench and a couple of screwdrivers.”
“Deal,” I said.
We high-fived, low-fived, bopped our fists, and shook on it.
“I’m Keith Howard, by the way.”
“And I’m Lindsay Boxer.”
“So, where am I delivering this heap, Lindsay?”
It was my turn to grin. Caveat emptor, indeed. I gave Keith my sister’s address and directions on how to get there.
“Go up the hill, then turn onto Miramontes and then onto Sea View. It’s a blue house on the right, second one in from the end of the road.”
Keith nodded. “I’ll drop it by day after tomorrow, if that’s okay.”
“Excellent,” I said, climbing back into the Explorer. Keith cocked his head and flashed me a flirtatious look.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere, Lindsay?”
“No,” I said, laughing. “But nice try.” The gas station guy was coming on to me! I was old enough to be his . . . big sister.
The kid laughed along with me.
“Well, anyway, Lindsay. Call me anytime if you need me to bring over an engine hoist or whatever.”
“Okay, I’ll do that,” I said, meaning just the opposite. But I was still smiling as I honked the horn good-bye.
Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July
Chapter 25
SEA VIEW AVENUE WAS a link in a looping chain of cul-de-sacs, separated from the curving arms of the bay by a quarter-mile stretch of dune grass. I opened the car door, and as Martha bounded out, I was almost blown away by the heady scent of rockroses and the fresh ocean breeze.
I stood for a minute, taking in Cat’s cheery house, with its dormers and porches and sunflowers growing against the fence in the front yard, before taking the keys from the niche above the lintel and opening the door into my sister’s life.
Inside, Cat’s home was a comfy hodgepodge of overstuffed furniture, crammed bookshelves, and gorgeous views of the bay from every room. I felt my entire body relax, and the idea of retiring from the force rose up in me again.
I could live in a place like this.
I could get used to waking up in the morning thinking about life instead of death.
Couldn’t I?
I opened the sliders to the back deck and saw a playhouse out in the yard. It was painted dusky blue like the house itself and was fenced all around with white pickets. I made my way down the back steps right behind Martha, who was running with her head down low.
I suspected that I was about to meet Penelope.
Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July
Chapter 26
PENELOPE WAS A LARGE Vietnamese potbellied pig, all black and whiskery. She waddled over to me, huffing and snoodling, so I leaned over the fence and patted her head.
“Hi, gorgeous,” I said.
Hi, Lindsay.
There was a note tacked to Penelope’s little bungalow, so I entered the pen to get a better look at “The Pig House Rules,” as “written” by Penelope.
Dear Lindsay,
This note is all about me.
1) I’d like a cup of pig chow twice a day and a clean bowl of water.
2) I also like cherry tomatoes, Saltines with peanut butter, and peaches.
3) Please come out and talk to me every day. I like riddles and the theme song to SpongeBob SquarePants.
4) In case of emergency, my vet is Dr. Monghil in town and my pig-sitters are Carolee and Allison Brown. Allison is one of my best friends. Their numbers are by the kitchen phone.
5) Don’t let me into the house, okay? I’ve been warned.
6) If you scratch me under the chin, you can have three wishes. Anything you want in the whole wide world.
The note was signed with big Xs and a pointy little hoofprint. The Pig House Rules, indeed! Cat, you funny girl.
I catered to Penelope’s immediate needs, then changed into clean jeans and a lavender sweatshirt and took Martha and the Seagull out to the front porch. As I ran through some chords, the fragrance of roses and the salty ocean tang sent my mind drifting back to the first time I’d come to Half Moon Bay.
It had been just about this time of year. The same beachy smell had been in the air, and I was working my first homicide case. The victim was a young man we’d found savagely murdered in his room in the back of a sleazy transient hotel in the Tenderloin.
He had been wearing only a T-shirt and one white tube sock. His red hair was combed, his blue eyes were wide open, and his throat had been slashed in a gaping grin stretching from ear to ear, nearly decapitating him. When we turned him over, I saw that the skin on his buttocks had been flayed to ribbons with some kind of lash.
We’d tagged him John Doe #24, and at the time I fully believed that I’d find his killer. John Doe’s T-shirt had come from the Distillery, a tourist restaurant situated in Moss Beach, just north of Half Moon Bay.
It was our only real clue—and although I’d combed this little town and the neighboring communities, the lead had gone nowhere.
Ten years later, John Doe #24 was still unidentified, unclaimed, unavenged by the justice system, but he would never be just another cold-case file to me. It was like a wound that ached when it rained.
Womans Murder Club 4 - 4th of July
Chapter 27
I WAS ABOUT TO drive into town for dinner when the late-evening newspaper landed with a whomp on the lawn.
I picked it up, shook out the folds, and felt the headline reach out and hook me: POLICE RELEASE PRIME SUSPECT IN CRESCENT HEIGHTS SLAYINGS.
I read the article all the way through.
When Jake and Alice Daltry were found slain in their house in Crescent Heights on May 5, police chief Peter Stark announced that Antonio Ruiz had confessed to the crime. According to the chief today, the confession didn’t jibe with the facts. “Mr. Ruiz has been cleared of the charges against him,” said Stark.
Witnesses say Ruiz, 34, a maintenance worker for California Electric and Gas, couldn’t have been in the Daltrys’ house on the day of the murders because he was working his shift in the plant in full view of his coworkers.
Mr. and Mrs. Daltry had their throats slashed. Police will not confirm that the husband and wife were tortured before they were killed.