“Yeah, okay,” Mary said. “Thanks for the Jewish education there, Yentl.”
Davies ignored her and said, “Let’s take this out into the hallway, unless you want to do this downtown.”
“You know, it doesn’t really matter where we go,” Mary said to Davies. “As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Once the paramedics had checked out Mary, and the crime scene techies had arrived, the questioning began.
“So Mary,” Jake said. “Why don’t you just start at the beginning?”
“Because I don’t want to?” Mary said.
Jake just watched her, his face committing nothing.
Mary sighed and explained how she had come to be at Kenum’s apartment, leaving out the Catalina side trip, and the little kid with all the information. Just enough to satisfy them, not enough to actually tell them anything.
“So you want me to believe,” Davies said. “That there was murder and an assault on you by a bunch of old men wearing Richard Nixon masks?”
“It’s just so weird,” Jake said. “Nixon masks.”
“Yeah,” Mary said, nodding toward Davies. “Almost as scary as the one she’s wearing now.”
“Cute,” Davies said.
A coroner’s assistant walked past them and down the stairs, carrying a camera and a thick sheaf of notes. Moments later, the body of David Kenum passed by them on a gurney.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Mary said to the corpse. “Now, are we done here?” she said, looking at Jake.
“Could you excuse us, Detective Cornell?” Davies said. Jake looked between the two and then turned to head down the stairs.
Mary turned to Davies. “I’m glad you got rid of him — he’s such a third wheel!”
“Shut up, Cooper,” Davies said. “Listen, I could care less about you and your pathetic little games with Cornell, but once you start messing with my job then I get angry. And if I find out that you’ve withheld information or kept me out of the loop on anything regarding this case, you will never work again as a private investigator,” Davies continued, her teeth clenched. “You’ll just be a desperate old maid.”
“That threat’s as tired and worn out as your dildo collection,” Mary said.
Davies spun on her heel and pounded down the stairs. Her footsteps echoed in the empty hall.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
It hurt to open her eyes, to sit up in bed, to realize how much she’d had to drink the night before. But most of all, it was agonizing to remember the nightmares: horny old men coming at her from all directions.
The capper, the image that had finally jolted her wide awake at five o’clock in the morning: Richard Nixon. Standing on the steps into the Presidential helicopter. His arms held wide, his fingers forming two giant peace signs.
And he was buck naked.
Mary sat on the edge of her bed. She didn’t want to stand up, but she didn’t want to lie back down.
And she wasn’t going to lie to herself. The Shark’s departing shot at her had hit home: ‘…a lonely old maid…’
It wasn’t that she was lonely. Some days? Sure. Once in a while. But it was more the fear that she would become lonely when it was too late to do anything about it. That did trouble her.
The doorbell rang, forcing her to make the decision to stand up.
She walked slowly to the door, her head feeling like an Alaskan buttercup squash.
“Hey,” Chris McAllister said when she opened the door after first looking through the peephole.
“Hey,” Mary said, her voice flat and tired.
“Um, I was going to walk up to Peet’s Coffee — did you want me to grab you a cup or anything?”
Jesus, this guy was unbelievable. And blessed with perfect timing.
“Yes,” Mary said. “The biggest, strongest coffee they have, please. Here, let me grab my purse.”
Chris smiled. “No, no, it’s on me. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“Okay, thanks,” Mary said.
She closed the door and made her way to the bathroom. She popped three Tylenol then stood under a blazing hot shower for as long as she could stand it.
By the time she was dressed in jeans and a UCLA sweatshirt, Chris was back with her coffee.
They sat together at the kitchen table, both slightly angled toward Mary’s view of the Pacific.
“I like this side of the building better,” he said.
“The view could be worse,” Mary said.
“I wasn’t just talking about the view,” he said. And smiled at her.
“Ordinarily, I love morning innuendo,” Mary said. “But this coffee is the only thing separating me from rigor mortis.”
“Rough night?” he said.
“Rough day. Rough night.”
He nodded and sipped his coffee. “I hear you’re a private investigator,” he said. He smiled, his eyes conveying the excitement he felt of talking to a real-live p.i.
“I’m afraid I am,” Mary said. “I got my license through correspondence school. I had a double major: private investigation and seamstressing.”
“What’s your current case? Or can’t you tell me?”
“Umm, it’s…”
“I was kidding, you don’t have to tell me…”
“No, it’s just, it involves family, and someone was hurt, and I’m trying to find the person who did it.”
“Oh, wow, I didn’t mean to pry. Are you…close to catching him?”
“It sure doesn’t feel like it,” Mary said, rubbing her head. “Sorry, I don’t have a lot of anecdotes…”
“Hey, that’s okay, maybe next time we…” he paused, embarrassed about what to say. “…have dinner, you can tell me some stories.”
“I don’t have good stories. Good neighbors. But not good stories.”
He actually blushed a little bit.
“You know what happened between us, the other day…” she said.
“Did something happen?” he said with a small smile.
“Yeah, well — ”
“Okay, Mary, I understand,” he said.
“You do?”
“Yeah, I know what happened isn’t common for you. And it sure as hell isn’t common for me.”
Mary set her coffee down and looked at him.
He got her sense of humor. He was handsome. He seemed to be nice.
Uh-oh, she thought.
I’m in trouble.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Later that afternoon, she was outlining the progress of the case and still thinking about Chris McAllister when Jake called.
“Let’s get some sushi,” he said.
“Let’s not.”
“Oh, come on. You love raw fish and seaweed.”
“Stop with the sweet talk.”
“Sushi King sound good?”
The Sushi King was a cheap sushi place on Wilshire she and Jake used to go to on a regular basis. Not the best place in L.A. for sushi, but not the worst, either.
“Is salmonella all I’ll get out of this deal?” Mary said.
“What, now you need a special reason to see me?”
“Actually, I just need a reason to see you.”
“Why this sudden shift in Jake policy?”
“Because it strikes me as odd,” Mary said. “I haven’t gotten a lunch or dinner invitation from you in quite some time. I believe one of the reasons you fell so desperately in love with me was my curiosity. And as you can see, it still functions quite powerfully. So I’m wondering, why the offer now? Are you looking for a little quid pro quo?”