“Who else will we be trying to see?” Travis asked.
We. That was what I wanted, right? “I want to talk to Dr. Curtis and a priest at St. Anthony’s.”
“Which priest?”
“The one who said your father’s funeral Mass.”
He stopped climbing. “How could you possibly be sure his funeral Mass was at St. Anthony’s?”
“Your mother went to it.”
“And how could you possibly know that?” a voice called from above us.
We looked up to see Jim McCain leaning over the railing near the top of the stairs.
“Shit,” I said. How long had he been listening?
Travis looked between us.
“Travis Maguire,” I said, “meet Detective Jim McCain, LAPD Homicide. He’s investigating your mother’s death.”
McCain smiled and said, “Glad to see you’re all right, Mr. Maguire.” He looked at the bandaged hand and added, “Or are you?”
“Have you found the driver of the car?” Travis asked.
“No, I’m sorry, not yet. We’re working on it, though,” he said. “Even on the weekend.”
“At the beach?” Travis replied.
McCain stopped smiling. “Wherever it takes me. Perhaps Ms. Kelly would be so kind as to let us continue this discussion in a more private place?”
“Sure,” I said. “You never know who might be eavesdropping around here.”
“People with nothing to hide-” McCain began.
“-still enjoy their constitutional rights,” I finished.
We walked in silence most of the way to the house, but just before we got to the front door, Jack came roaring down the street on his Harley, back from whatever errand he had taken care of for Travis. He stopped in front of the house and called, “Everything okay?”
I nodded, and he watched as we went inside.
The first few minutes were spent with McCain telling Travis almost as little about the accident as he had told me; when Travis complained, McCain looked over at me and said, “Perhaps some other time.”
“You suspect Irene?” Travis asked in disbelief.
“This investigation is still in its early stages,” he said, and before Travis could say more, asked him if he was aware that his mother had willed her entire estate to me.
Travis stared at him, then laughed. “Of course I know!”
“What?” McCain said.
“My mother made sure I knew all about it.” He glanced over at me. “You know the Maguire temper, Irene.”
“But…” McCain began.
“The date on that will, Detective McCain, will be just before my mother moved to her last apartment.” He paused, all the amusement of a moment before gone. “I’m ashamed to say that we parted in anger.”
“And why would that be?” McCain said.
“Travis,” I said, “maybe you should call your attorney.”
He ignored me, and answered, “You know about my parents’ bigamous marriage?”
“Yes,” McCain said.
“Because my mother never forgave my father for that, she forbade me to have contact with him. When I grew past the age when she could forbid it, she simply resented it. She tolerated it, though, until I told her I was accepting money from my father. At that point she said she would no longer live with me, and told me, quite dramatically, that if I was taking anything from him, I’d get nothing from her. That was when she produced a handwritten will leaving everything she owned to Irene, and waved it under my nose.”
“So the last time you saw your mother alive was when?” Detective McCain asked.
Eyes downcast, he said softly, “I helped her to move into her apartment. She didn’t speak to me.”
Whatever else he might have told McCain was interrupted by my barking dogs, up on their feet and scrambling before I heard an imperious knock at the door.
Rachel came striding in before I could warn her-but apparently she already knew McCain was here. “What the hell is going on here, Mac?”
“Hello, Rachel. I was wondering if I’d get to see you today.”
“What’s going on?” she repeated.
“A murder investigation. You have a problem with that?”
She made a show of looking around. “I don’t see a lawyer.”
“Don’t need to read the card to anybody at this point-or have you forgotten all about how law enforcement works?”
“I remember exactly how it works. Which is why I’m asking you to get out. Now.”
“I was invited in,” he said.
Her hands were on her hips. “I don’t care who invited you in, I’m inviting you to get out.”
“You don’t live here.”
“Okay,” I said, “then I’m the one who’s asking you to go.”
He started to say something, looked back at Rachel, then shook his head. He stood up, which didn’t give him too much height on her, and said softly, “You turning your back on your old friends, Rach?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
He turned to Travis. “Mr. Maguire, did Ms. Kelly ever tell you how it was possible for her to know that your mother was at your father’s funeral?”
“Out,” Rachel said.
“A holy card,” I answered, causing McCain to laugh out loud.
“Forgive me, Ms. Kelly,” he said, “but that’s a new one on me.”
Rachel started to speak but Travis held a hand up and asked, “You think a holy card from my father’s funeral Mass is something funny, Detective McCain?”
McCain gave Rachel a look of utter frustration, but there was nothing disrespectful in his tone when he said, “No, Mr. Maguire. No, I don’t. You happen to have this holy card, Ms. Kelly?”
“It’s in your room,” I said to Travis. “Mind if I get it from there?”
“Of course not.”
McCain started to follow me, but Rachel blocked his way. “Oh, no, Mac. You stay here and keep me company.”
Travis went with me. I found the holy card and let him take a look at it. He ran his fingers over it, but didn’t speak.
“It was in her coat pocket,” I said.
“She always got cold easily,” he said, and swallowed hard. “Do we have to give this to him?”
“Yes,” I said.
When Travis handed it to him, McCain asked, “Anybody see you find this, Ms. Kelly?”
“Rachel. And my aunt Mary.”
He scowled. I felt a little bit of sympathy for him. Sometimes my leads don’t go anywhere, either. But Rachel was the one who hit him where it hurt.
“Face it, Mac,” she said. “Two things are sticking in your craw right now. One, you did a lousy search of the apartment and missed some important items. Two, Irene found her cousin before you could. You keep wanting to believe she had something to do with her aunt’s death, but you don’t have shit to prove it. Not even a motive. Well, better luck next time.”
He tucked the holy card away, smiled and walked to the front door. He stopped, turned back and said, “Don’t be too sure about what I do and don’t have, Rach.”
He closed the door softly behind him.
“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy,” Rachel said quietly.
“Jack call you?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“That reminds me-” Travis said. “I’ll be at Jack’s place for a few minutes.”
“We need to get going soon,” I said.
“This won’t take long,” he said.
When he came back, he was carrying a small cellular phone. “It’s supposed to be activated,” he said. “What’s the phone number here?”
I told him and he dialed it. The phone rang.
“Great!”
“You had Jack buy a cell phone for you?” Rachel asked.
“I bought it, but Jack agreed to put it in his name for a while.”
“How did you talk him into that?” I asked.
“I gave him the money for it. And I think he knows you won’t let me rip him off.”
“You’ve hardly known him for a day. How do you know he won’t take your money and run?”
“Same reason-I know you won’t let him rip me off. Besides, I could see you trust him. Jack’s great.”