Fourth Wall (An Anthony Carrick Mystery Book 8) Page 5

  “Or just invited out for a party,” I offered. “Perhaps they were musicians. Hip hop musicians.”

  “Oh no, I don’t think so,” she said. “I know African American musicians. I’ve seen the likes of Harry Belafonte and Sammy Davis Jr. These men were no musicians. Hoodlums more like it.”

  “I see,” I said. “Did you see any of these men there last night?”

  “I don’t remember. Not that I can specifically say. I mean I didn’t see everyone who was there. I’m never invited, am I? But if she was murdered I bet they were.”

  She might have been an older woman, but I was still getting tired of her racist undertones.

  “Do you think they might be murderers because they’re black or because you saw them commit murder, Ms. Fitch?” I asked tersely.

  “It has nothing to do with the color of their skin, Mr. Carrick, I can assure you. But they are definitely the type that would commit murder.”

  “At this time,” said Roberts, having not long ago finished his bear claw, “it looks like an accidental drowning.”

  Fitch looked at him.

  “Well, that doesn’t surprise me at all. She often looked like she might be on drugs. I’m sure they all are. And why not? When you’ve been given such an easy path in life you don’t appreciate it, do you? Not like Paul and I. No, we had to work for years to build ourselves something.”

  “What did your husband do?” I asked.

  “He owned several antique furniture stores in California. Fitch’s Furniture it was called. Sold it shortly before he died seven years ago.”

  I nodded, I had seem them in town.

  “I’m familiar with the store. Though it’s changed names now, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes, and been run into the ground too. Eurostyle Furniture they call it now.”

  I nodded again. That’s exactly what they were called, and they attempted to compete against IKEA with cheaper prices and shittier product.

  “Getting back to the party,” said Roberts. “What made you call in the noise complaint?”

  “Well, I was up, as I don’t sleep very well ever since Paul passed. I suffer insomnia you see. I can only get snatches of sleep here and there. Anyway, it was around midnight and the noise from the party had spilled out into the driveway. I was in my private lounge, which is just down the hall and faces the street when I heard loud noises coming from Anna’s place. I looked out through the window and saw a couple of men arguing and yelling. They started to get into a fight when I called the police.”

  “And who were these men?” I asked, still leaving my strudel uneaten on the plate.

  “It was that musician that Anna used to date, Rip Peso and that wonderful actor William Orpen. Anna was there too, trying to break it up.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes, but I’d never done something like that. Instead, I swallowed my incredulity like a smooth stone.

  “I see, and what happened?”

  “By the time I was off the phone with the police, others had come out and they’d broken it up. Everyone, except William Orpen, looked like they were either on drugs or drunk.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “The way they were slurring their words or staggering around. It was quite obvious. Except for William Orpen, of course, he’s such a handsome young man and so pure of heart. I don’t know what he’s doing hanging out with that sort.”

  I ignored the character witness.

  “Did you hear what they were fighting about, Maria?” I asked.

  “Oh yes. Quite clearly. That Rip Peso is terribly uncouth. He was calling Anna all sorts of horrible things. He was calling her a slut and a bitch and even worse. I’m sure you can imagine. And he told her that if he couldn’t have her then no one could. William was telling him to calm down and that’s when they started fighting. He accused William of sleeping with Anna and that it meant nothing to him, it was just another notch in his belt as everybody knew. But I just can’t believe that. I don’t believe William Orpen is like that at all, despite what the tabloids say. You know how sensationalist they can be just to sell papers.”

  I didn’t. But I pretended to.

  “What do they say about him?”

  “Well, it’s rather crude. But they say that he wants to bed more women than that beastly man Gene Simmons from that rock band. I don’t know what they’re called.”

  “Kiss,” I offered.

  She nodded.

  “Anyway, William has naturally denied it all whenever he’s been asked in interviews and when they ask him why he’s never seen with someone out in public more than a few times he says that he’s just unlucky in love. It’s hard to find the right person, he says. And I believe him. If it wasn’t for Paul, I might never have married.”

  What I wanted to believe was that people didn’t actually pay that much attention to the vacuous lives of overpaid beautiful people.

  “When the police arrived did they arrest anyone?”

  “No, everyone had gone back inside by then. Not Rip Peso, of course, he went on his own way with some floozy he’d brought with him. A lady of the night if you ask me. William Orpen and Mary Beale and Anna and the others had gone back inside. I think William and Mary would make a wonderful couple but they’re just friends. God only knows why she married that director. Old enough to be her father. Must have been for the money. What else could it have been for?”

  Fitch was having a conversation with herself. She wasn’t asking Roberts or me for any input. And I had none to give. Marriage was a puzzle that I hadn’t figured out. And in spite of her protestations to the contrary about her neighbors, she seemed like quite the gossip groupie.

  “And after that, everything went back to normal?” I asked.

  “Well, yes. I didn’t hear much of anything after that and I was able to get a few hours sleep. I was up again by about four and I peeked outside through the window and it appeared as though the whole house was quiet. No lights were on.”

  “And this morning? You’ve seen nothing unusual?”

  “No, nothing at all. Not until I heard some commotion when you all arrived. Then I saw a couple of young women standing outside talking to the police and gesticulating towards the house.”

  “What time was that? Do you recall?”

  “Oh, I can’t be certain, but I’m sure it was between eight and nine this morning.”

  “Might it have been around eight thirty?”

  “Could have been, if you say so.”

  I didn’t have anything more to ask of Fitch. I looked at Roberts and lifted the strudel to my mouth. I was about to drool all over it. Roberts got up. I hadn’t even quite finished my coffee.

  “Thank you, Ms. Fitch. You’ve been most helpful,” said Roberts.

  He fished a business card out of his inside jacket pocket and handed it to her. She took a moment and looked at it.

  “I hope I was helpful, Captain,” she said.

  “Very,” he said. “If you remember anything else, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

  He started to walk outside. I hadn’t touched my strudel. But I was damned if I was going to leave it behind. I took my napkin and picked it up with that. I followed him out.

  After we’d said our goodbyes and Fitch had closed the door on us I took a bite of my strudel. It was fresh. Baked this very morning. I’d put money on that.

  “You didn’t finish your pastry?” he asked, looking at it with his hands stuck in his trouser pockets.

  “Not when you had me doing all the jabbering,” I said.

  Roberts shrugged.

  “I’m heading back to the house to finish up. Care to join?” he asked, and started down the driveway. I fished my phone out of my pocket and looked at the time. It was just a little past eleven thirty.

  “Can’t,” I said. “I’ve got to see that movie with Aibhilin. Starts at noon thirty. I promised to pick her up at noon.”

  We walked across the road to my car and Roberts bid me farewell. I promised to catch u
p with him later in the day if I could. He told me not to worry as he’d keep me in the loop.

  SIX

  Vampires at Venice

  WE were walking down towards Venice Beach. It’s not far from the pier. Not that I head down to Venice Beach much, but there’s a great little gelato place called Giovanni’s Gelateria on Ocean Front Walk not far from Muscle Beach. North of Muscle Beach. I was walking with Aibhilin.

  “You really like that William Orpen, huh?” I asked her.

  “Yes, Daddy, he’s wonderful. He’s a terrific actor and he’s so very handsome. He’s the kind of man I’d like to marry one day.”

  I didn’t say anything. If he was the last man on Earth he wouldn’t be marrying my daughter.

  “The newspapers say different things about him,” I said, trying my hardest not to poke the bear.

  “They all say nasty things about the best people,” she said. “They do that to sell papers.”

  “But they can’t make up lies,” I countered.

  “Dad,” she said, dragging out the vowel like it was stuck way deep inside of her on a fishing line. “We have a thing called freedom of speech in this country in case you’d forgotten.”

  “I hadn’t forgotten, Avy,” I said, using the nickname she hated me using. I also dragged the first vowel out of my throat like it was stuck on a piece of fishing line. “It’s called the first amendment to our constitution, but it also does not protect against libel, which is defamation in printed form.”

  Aibhilin looked at me and rolled her eyes.

  “I hate it when you call me that, you know that too.”

  She crossed her arms as we continued to walk towards the Gelateria.

  “I’m sorry, babydoll,” I said. “I’m glad you enjoyed the movie. But just so I understand it properly. He’s a vampire right, but he can only marry another vampire and Betty’s not a vampire, so how does that work?”

  Aibhilin looked at me cautiously like I was a pedophile asking her to help search for my lost puppy.

  “Yes, that’s right,” she said at last, “but he can make her a vampire by sucking her blood, and then that way they can get married. That’s why he bit her at the end.”

  “So there’ll be another movie in this series probably.”

  “Yes, Daddy, most likely and we’ll have to see it when it comes out. Promise me.”

  I put my hand around her shoulder and pulled her in towards me. I leaned down and kissed her on her head.

  “Of course, babydoll,” I said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  We walked in silence a little bit longer. I had to unwrap my arm from her shoulder. I guess I wasn’t cool enough to be seen showing affection to my own daughter. Most likely she was going through a stage. Lately she’d been going through that stage for what felt like years.

  “I was at another famous actress’ place this morning,” I said. Trying to sound cool.

  “Who was it?”

  “Anna Ancher?”

  “Really?” she asked. Aibhilin stopped and looked at me and grabbed my arm. “How come you got invited. It wasn’t for something sad was it?”

  I looked at her and immediately regretted having said it.

  “Um, I’m afraid it was.”

  “Something happened to her?”

  “Uh, yeah, she’s no longer with us,” I said.

  Aibhilin brought her hands up to her face.

  “No, no, no,” she said, and I thought she might start crying. “She was one of my favorite actors.”

  Her eyes were wet with emotion like a baby seal fresh out of the water.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Can’t we talk about something nicer. You know that William Orpen and Mary Beale were there too, the night before. She was having a party for her friends.”

  Aibhilin was having none of it.

  “What happened to her?”

  “You know I can’t tell you, babydoll. Not until we’ve figured it out properly.”

  She sighed and looked away and we carried on walking towards the Gelateria. I had a sour taste in my mouth like she’d just stuffed it with lemons.

  “I can’t believe it. Why do all the good people have to die?”

  She was talking to herself. I tried again.

  “She has a very nice house,” I said, trying to turn the conversation from the wreck it was becoming. “A big pool in the front and the hills of Serrania Park right up agains the back.”

  Aibhilin didn’t look at me, she was kicking small stones on the path as we walked.

  “I don’t care about her house. I have a nice house you know. Artero makes a lot of money.”

  I’d just been slapped with a bucket of ice water across the face. She had just used my heart as a pin cushion. I didn’t know what to say about that.

  I wanted to tell her that Artero was an asshole who’d been fucking her mother while I was on the job trying to protect the assholes of LA from bigger assholes. I wanted to tell her that Artero probably made his money at least in part illegally and that I was gonna figure it out one day. I also wanted to tell her that Artero was probably banging his fucking secretary while her mother turned a blind eye because she couldn’t bear to face the fact that she’d fucked up in the first place. Instead I said:

  “I know. It’s a very nice house.”

  And that was that. I didn’t have anything left in me to say to Aibhilin. We walked the remainder of the distance to Giovanni’s Gelateria in silence. I put my mind to work on the case.

  Beers to salted peanuts, there was gonna be a cocktail of drugs in her. But whether Anna had self induced her own drowning or had it aided by nefarious accompli was yet to be known. My gut was with Beeves on this one. This was gonna be a homicide. How did I know? I didn’t. It was my gut and intuition from years on the job. You get a sense, not so much a sixth sense. No, I preferred to call it my sick sense.

  The Gelateria was busy. It always was. But today the line up was out the door and down the building by about fifty feet. We waited patiently in line. I was thinking about Anna Ancher. She was a beautiful young woman, probably in her early thirties. Cut down in the prime of her life. Why? She might have been a coke head and a vacuous bimbo, but that didn’t give me a reason as to why she was dead. Could be Rip finally did what he’d been promising. But that seemed too easy. It happens, don’t get me wrong. If you promise to kill someone, there’s a good chance you’ll do it. But it’s by no means a promissory note. You couldn’t cash it nine times out of ten…

  “I like your home too, Daddy,” said Aibhilin.

  I hadn’t been paying attention. I looked down and saw her mother’s brown eyes looking up at me. I couldn’t be mad at that angelic face. I smiled at her and stroked her hair.

  “Thank you, babydoll,” I said. “But it’s our home. Yours and mine. Even if it’s small, your bedroom is always there and you’re welcome anytime.”

  Aibhilin looked down and kicked her sneakers at the ground. Then she looked back up at me.

  “Maybe I can stay over tonight?” she asked.

  “You can stay over anytime you want,” I said. “But you’ve gotta ask your mom if it’s okay.”

  “She’ll be fine with it, Daddy,” said Aibhilin, grinning at me.

  “Ask her,” I said.

  Aibhilin fished out her smartphone from her pocket and dialed. I listened while her mother gave her a hard time. I knew what was coming. A hard time for me to. Aibhilin offered me her phone.

  “Mom wants to talk to you,” she said.

  I smiled at her and took a deep breath. I put the phone to my ear.

  “Hi Racquel,” I said. “So it’s okay if Aibhilin stays over at my place?”

  “You know it’s not your turn, Tony,” she said, knowing that I hated being called that. “Artero wanted us to have a nice family time together tonight.”

  “He’s not family,” I said, not able to stop myself in time.

  “He’s her stepfather whether you like it or n
ot. I’m going to allow it this time, Tony. But don’t try and pull this shit on me again. I can easily tie you back up in court and limit your access to her if you want. And you know I’ll do it.”

  “You’re a real humanitarian,” I said.

  “I want her back by eleven tomorrow.”

  “Alright,” I said.

  I hung up and gave Aibhilin her phone back.

  “Your mom’s real happy we’re getting this time together,” I said to her, grinning like a cheeky elf. Aibhilin smiled at me.

  “You’re lying,” she said. “What did she really say?”

  “Doesn’t matter, babydoll. The thing that matters is that we’re going to have a fun night together. What do you want to do?”

  “I want to order pizza and watch a movie with you.”

  “But we just saw a movie,” I said.

  “But we can watch another one,” she said.

  I nodded.

  “Whatever you want my angel.”

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at it. It told me it was Johnny Rotten.

  “I have to get this real quick,” I said to Aibhilin.

  She nodded.

  “Speak,” I said.

  “Speak,” came the reply. “From abrupt to downright rude.”

  But there was laughter on the other end.

  “Just had the honor of speaking with my ex,” I said.

  “‘Nuff said.”

  “What’s up?”

  “We got the autopsy results back,” said Roberts.

  “That’s quick.”

  “Yeah, Dr. Stratham wanted to make it a priority. She thinks it’s unlikely Ancher was drowned accidentally. Had a whole cocktail of different drugs in her. OxyContin, Xanax, Valium and Ativan at high doses, which could have been enough to kill her on their own if she hadn’t have drowned first.”

  “I see,” I said. “Still doesn’t mean she couldn’t have taken them herself.”

  “Not likely,” said Roberts. “Looks like there weren’t any residual pills in her stomach content. Stratham thinks she was given them either ground up in the booze or freebased, but there’s no sign of freebasing, so we’re gonna check out the champagne and glasses see if anything shows up.”