A punishing breed, p.16
A Punishing Breed, page 16
“I finally managed to get away. But it was terrifying.”
“It makes me furious someone would try to hurt you.” He looked into her eyes. “This attack, it will live with you for a while, but after a time, it will fade. You were really brave to escape.”
“Was I?” No one said she had been brave, that the attack would stay with her, haunt her. Not the Campus Safety Officer, not the police. She didn’t even get a chance to tell her friends. Her fellow students and ex-boyfriend had already left Hesperia for early fall break.
Danny reached out to wipe away an errant tear. Her skin was velvet, the tear wet.
He couldn’t stop looking at her.
“Hey, you’re safe now, you’re here with me.”
Fern felt tears flood her eyes. Without thinking, Danny pulled her close again. Miraculously, she melted into him, her cheek again his chest. That scent again of honeysuckle. It felt good to hold someone, it felt amazing to hold Ferencia Lake.
She could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. Danny wasn’t a boy; he was a man. She breathed in his scent, clean like soap; her skin grew hot where he held her. A thick, slow bead of desire slipped down into her belly, a warmth grew up her back, her neck, reached her face. Leaning into him made her feel everything would be all right.
“When was the last time you ate something?” He reluctantly pulled back and looked at her with concern.
Fern took a deep breath.
“I don’t remember.”
Danny knew she was in need of a good meal, a place to sit down and gather her thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to spend a few hours with her in a parallel world where he was a regular guy who could walk on campus and meet a girl. But the longer he delayed revealing the truth of who he was, where he spent the last ten years, the harder he’d fall from grace. He pulled back, keeping his hands on her arms to make sure she was steady.
“Let’s get you some food and coffee,” he said. “Maybe the cafeteria is open. The police will still be here when we get back.”
The young woman needed to eat. And the cafeteria where his mother had worked for years would be the cold splash of reality he needed. A server would recognize him. Ask what he was doing in civilian clothes. He would be forced to tell her then and there. And that would be that.
“Okay,” she said quickly. Fern smiled up at him; Danny could feel the pull of her beauty, the long hair that brushed his arm, her scent that drew him in. She had a gravity that anchored him to a different world.
“Wait,” said Fern. “Are you here to see the police about the murder?”
“Yeah,” said Danny. “I knew the victim, Will Bloom. Not well.”
“Wow, they are bringing everyone in, aren’t they?”
“This detective is thorough,” said Danny. “No loose thread, no stone unturned.”
“Oh,” said Fern. The shadow of Thursday night darkened her face.
Did the police already know about Professor Bounty? She didn’t think Bounty would say anything. It would ruin his career, her senior year, and worse, her father’s trust and belief in her. But maybe someone had seen her leaving his house. That night she had the feeling of being watched.
Looking up at the man standing before her, she felt that meeting Danny Mendoza was going to change her luck, maybe her life. He didn’t have to know that she’d slept with a married professor, did he?
“Hey, are you okay?”
“I am really hungry,” Fern said. “Ravenous.”
“All right, Ferencia Lake,” Danny said. “Let’s find you something to eat.”
He held out his elbow, she slipped her hand through his arm.
Danny knew this would end badly. Women expected a better life, a better man. A college graduate might tolerate a starving artist, but not a man who pulled weeds, picked up garbage for a living. Definitely not a convict.
They walked together down the steps to the Hesperia cafeteria arm in arm. Danny savored every second. For the moment, he wasn’t an ex-con, a maintenance man, or the callous, grasping college student he once was, but the man he could have been, might have been if life had a different fate in mind for him.
CHAPTER 28
Thorn
DJ Arias walked out of Sliming with Evidence in tow. Several industrial-size cement planters containing Palo Verde trees were housed on the patio surrounding the building. He lifted Evidence inside one to do her business.
While the dog was otherwise engaged, DJ googled Japanese swords on his phone, compared them to the photo he’d snapped yesterday. He knew from the conversation with Hoa Phan it was from World War II. That narrowed its provenance. As DJ swiped through screen pages of samurai swords, he came upon a shin guntō sword, produced just before World War II by master craftsmen. They were the highest quality weaponry Japanese soldiers carried. Their contemporary guns and other equipment proved inferior in combat with their Western adversaries. According to several websites, the swords sold for anywhere between $1,500 and $3,000.
“Pardon me, aren’t you the police detective?”
DJ looked up and saw the silhouette of a woman against the sun. His immediate impression was caramel skin wrapped in a tight black T-shirt and white jeans.
“Yes. I’m Detective DJ Arias. And you are?” DJ moved counterclockwise around the planter for a better look. He recognized the woman.
“We met briefly yesterday. I’m Ravi LaVal,” she said, smiling. “Professor of history and chair of the faculty council.” She was medium height, with dark sparkling eyes and full coral lips that revealed perfect teeth. She held a white rose in one hand.
“Is this your dog in the planter?”
“This is Evidence,” said DJ.
“Really,” said Ravi LaVal. “Now that is interesting. Does the dog play good cop? Disarm your suspects?” She had a British accent and a mocking smile.
“It’s a good idea,” DJ said. “Where are you headed this Saturday morning, Professor LaVal?”
“Call me Ravi. Third floor. I have another emergency meeting with the president. They’re becoming a regular occurrence. But do let me know if I or any faculty can be of help or answer any questions.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
To be surrounded by so many beautiful, intelligent women was disconcerting to DJ. How did Will Bloom, with his proclivities, manage his impulses? DJ reminded himself that Bloom was dead.
“The faculty appreciates your efforts,” said Ravi, taking his hand, “to keep this horrible incident away, as much as possible, from the students.” She held his fingers a beat too long; her version of a handshake.
DJ had done nothing to keep students out of the murder investigation. So far, the one cohort Will Bloom was not diddling were coeds. Supposedly, he had learned that lesson from a former job. But who knew, the investigation was still young.
“You’re welcome,” said DJ, taking back his hand. He noticed a wedding band on her ring finger. “How well did you know Will Bloom?”
“He was a charming scoundrel. But harmless.” She flashed her brilliant smile of even white teeth.
DJ was distracted for a beat by the radiance of that smile.
“Poor Will,” she said, the smile fading. “It’s such a tragedy.”
“Most murders are,” said DJ. “I do have a question for you. I met with Hoa Phan this morning.”
“Well, that must have been a treat.”
“She knew confidential details of the murder scene. When I asked her how she knew the particulars, she said Hesperia is a feudal village, a cloistered world, and there are no secrets. Do you agree with that?”
The smile disappeared. “So, you met with Hoa Phan,” she said. “How lucky for you, and so early in the day.”
“What about her metaphor?” asked DJ.
“Is it metaphor or analogy? I wonder. How did she describe herself? Princess or courtesan?”
“I take it you don’t like Ms. Phan?” asked DJ.
“Oh dear.” Ravi twirled the rose in her hand. “I hardly know her. I’m sure she is a fine person, if a bit young.”
“For Will?” asked DJ.
“For her job, Detective,” said Ravi LaVal.
“She seemed capable. So is Hesperia a feudal village?” asked DJ. “Where everyone knows each other’s secrets?”
“Well,” Ravi said, “a Japanese sword through the back is quite shocking. That news is not easily contained.”
“So you know too,” said DJ.
“Hesperia is full of secrets, connections, skeletons in the cupboard,” said Ravi. “I’m sure there are a few staring you right in the face.”
“You mean people having affairs?” asked DJ.
“Detective, you might be more imaginative,” Ravi LaVal sighed. “Not what I meant. Besides, the word affair is so bourgeois.”
“I’m just a cop, toiling outside the walls and social mores of Hesperia,” said DJ. “Help me out?”
“Is this college a feudal village? I’d say, more like an inbred, airless cloister. Faculty, the intellectuals, are practically indentured servants. The administrators are vassals who scrape and bow to the entitled aristocracy; that would be the president and senior management team. And finally, there are the trustees, like gods of old, trying to solve the problem of our existence in the modern world.”
“And have they?” asked DJ. “Solved the problem?”
“Detective,” said Ravi, “we don’t want to be solved. We’re a private liberal arts college, not an engineering school. We don’t ‘solve’ a problem. We focus on the question, each one spurring myriad deeper inquiries.”
“Sounds like a cult,” said DJ.
“Unlike the military or the police?” The mocking smile reappeared. “At Hesperia, we provide an intellectual grounding for essential truths, not the solution of the day. We explore ideas, issues, facts. I tell my students every day to think critically on the nature of things.”
“I missed that in college,” said DJ. “I went to Cal State LA.”
“Nonsense,” said Professor Ravi LaVal. “Critical thinking is central to all college educations.”
“Most of the students I attended college with just needed a job,” he said.
DJ stared at the scarlet flowers of a bougainvillea spilling over a retaining wall.
“Education is not only about vocation, Detective, it’s purpose, passion. That spark that makes you want to jump out of bed in the morning, that makes life feel heightened.”
“Is that how you feel?” DJ asked. “Working at Hesperia, teaching your students.”
Her face darkened. “Not on days like this.”
Ravi brought the rose to her face, inhaling its scent.
“Days like this will break your heart.”
DJ thought he knew who Ravi LaVal was thinking about.
“So how well did you know Will Bloom?”
“Oh, everyone knew Will,” said Ravi. “He was quite the presence on campus.”
“Did you spend time with him?” asked DJ. “One-on-one. Have meetings or other types of contact?”
“What a funny question.” Ravi didn’t smile.
“I’ve heard he liked beautiful women,” said DJ. “I have to believe he must have liked you?”
“Are you paying me a compliment?”
“Was your relationship with Will Bloom strictly professional?” asked DJ.
“I liked Will and he liked me,” said Ravi. “But for the last two or three months, I barely saw him. Besides, I don’t kiss and tell.”
“I’ll take that as a yes?” asked DJ. “So, Mr. Bloom became otherwise engaged and left you hanging?”
Ravi stood up straight, the playful manner evaporated.
“I’m devastated Will is dead. It’s awful. But I haven’t done anything illegal, and I don’t believe in immoral.” She was now the professor and head of faculty council, smarter than DJ and dismissive. “You will have to leave it at that.”
“And you have an alibi for Thursday night?” asked DJ.
“Yes,” she said. “I was in a spin class on Colorado with my husband and then we ate Mexican food at Cacao Mexicatessan for dinner. We sat on the patio. It was quite a windy evening.”
“We will check your alibi,” said DJ.
“I expect nothing less,” she said, holding up the flower. “This is a cutting from my garden.”
“Nice.”
“I brought it for Will.”
“For Will Bloom? White for friendship? Surrender?”
“White is sympathy, Detective. I thought I might leave it at his office door. In memoriam.”
“Like a shrine?” DJ had an image of flowers and teddy bears, demarcations of a traffic fatality on a lonely road.
“A remembrance of days past.”
The stem was wrapped in a paper towel.
“Sorry,” said DJ. “The bottom floor of Sliming is a crime scene. No one in or out.”
“Well, I’ll leave it with you then,” she said. “Perhaps you can put it in an appropriate place.”
She thrust the flower in his hand. A thorn poked through the paper towel, pricked his finger. A drop of blood bloomed against the white.
“Here’s my card if you need to reach me. About feudal villages.”
“Thanks,” DJ said, taking the offered card, smudging it with red.
Ravi LaVal walked into Sliming. He wondered about Professor LaVal, her husband and their supposed mutual alibi. Was the husband brightened or burned by his wife’s fire? And how did Ravi LaVal really feel about being dumped by Will Bloom for a younger woman? DJ stood there for several minutes before lifting Evidence out of the wide planter, setting her back on the ground.
He brought the injured finger to his mouth, tasting the salty blood on his lips. His grandma had taught him thorns grow downward to stop predators from reaching the flower.
He studied his finger.
It was a puncture wound.
CHAPTER 29
Lau ’N Dry
“You’re bleeding, sir.”
DJ looked up. Talbot had his car keys in hand.
“Where are you going? Isn’t that student, Fern Lake, coming in?”
“She texted me,” Talbot said. “She changed her appointment to this afternoon. I’m heading to the dry cleaner, Lau ’N Dry. Browning and Butter are manning the command post.”
DJ suspected Fern Lake was lying about something. Now she was avoiding them. He looked down at his hand; the paper towel had stanched the bleeding.
“Lau ’N Dry?”
“Yes. Mr. Bennet Lau is the owner.”
“Is he expecting us?”
“Us? I just spoke to Mr. Lau. He’s expecting me in . . .” Talbot checked his watch. “Twenty minutes.”
“All right, Talbot, let’s go.” DJ, tired of interviews, wanted to take action.
“You mean me and you?”
“Why not,” said DJ. Evidence barked.
“You heard from the vet?” asked Talbot. “About the dog . . .”
“We can check out that lead after Mr. Lau.”
“Nice rose,” said Talbot.
“Yeah,” said DJ, “but it bites.” He threw the flower in a trash container.
Talbot drove. DJ rode shotgun with Evidence on his lap in the younger detective’s Dodge Charger. DJ reported his conversation with Professor LaVal.
“Do you think she’s a suspect?” asked Talbot.
“We’ll have to check her alibi. Said she was with her husband at an exercise class, then went to a restaurant. I’d say she was involved with Will Bloom before Miss Hoa Phan came into the picture. I think the professor was dumped. Add her to the list, and maybe the husband.”
“I’ll have B&B check their alibi.”
The two officers, Browning and Butter, were good cops, ambitious and methodical. Their names reminded DJ of Thanksgiving dinner. Talbot and DJ drove in silence for a few minutes. Evidence hung her face out the window, communing with the wind.
“So how did you get the nickname Bobby?”
“It’s not a nickname,” said Talbot. “My official name is Bobby. It’s on the birth certificate.”
“No shit,” said DJ.
“Yes, sir.”
“After Bobby Kennedy? Bobby McFerrin? I think they were Roberts.”
“I was raised by a single mom. She named me after that song. ‘Me and Bobby McGee.’ It was her favorite. She was a backup singer in her forties when she had me. Mom has the vinyl record by Janis Joplin.”
“Great song,” said DJ. “Written by Kristofferson.”
“Yeah, she knew Kris Kristofferson back in the day.”
“And that’s why she named you Bobby?”
“She said listening to Janis Joplin on vinyl was like hearing God sing.”
“So that’s what God sounds like,” said DJ.
“According to Mom.”
“Well, she sounds way cooler than Charity,” said DJ.
“Who, sir?”
“No one.” DJ stared out the window.
Bobby slowed down and pulled into a large parking lot of a Smart & Final. At the northwest corner, adjacent to an intersection, was a small white building. Painted on one side were the words Lau ’N Dry Cleaners.
“Smart & Final and Lau ’N Dry,” said DJ. “I guess that’s a kind of symmetry.”
Bobby parked the car in front of the dry cleaner. He wondered if this interview would be an embarrassment. Mr. Lau had sounded uncooperative on the phone. DJ opened his window, left Evidence in the passenger seat where he could see her.
The establishment had two open doors, one as they entered on the south side of the building, the second on the west, facing the street. The two entrances formed a wind tunnel, one’s hair and any errant papers were at the mercy of the breeze. There was a bell, DJ rang it without hesitation. Talbot thought, Okay, here we go.
A thin middle-aged man wearing a short-sleeved guayabera shirt appeared from behind the automated racks of clothing. He had very straight posture, his hair and mustache were jet-black.
“Mr. Bennet Lau?” asked Bobby Talbot.
“Yes,” said Mr. Lau. “You are the policeman I spoke to?
Bobby hesitated but DJ was quiet. He was letting Bobby take the lead.
