No. If she did, she’d have taken her with her. Her mom was a scatterbrain, but no way would she have left her behind, not if she knew the Ghost was in town. Jasmine could hardly wait till tomorrow. She was supposed to be back then. Tomorrow everything was gonna be okay.
She’d miss hanging out next door with Sonya. No restriction on television time. At home, she could only watch for an hour a night. No broccoli, no cauliflower, no string beans and no spinach-her mom would hate that. Jasmine smiled, what her mom didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her.
She stuck her lower lip out and blew her hair back from her forehead. Still, as much fun as she was having at Sonya’s, she wanted her mom back. Every second she was gone, worried her more. What if the killer had gotten her?
Down below, the Ghost looked out the door, almost as if he knew the two girls were watching. He seemed to be looking out over the ocean, but Jasmine wasn’t fooled. Those spooky eyes saw everything. It was scary. He walked to the fence between the condos and the sea, bent down and picked up a handful of sand, then he stood and let it slip through his fingers, almost like she did when she played at the beach everyday. Why’d he do that? He turned, went back to the condo, but just before entering, he glanced up at the clubhouse and for a second, Jasmine imagined those ghosty eyes could see through the wall. She shivered, but he went into her house and she couldn’t see him anymore.
Gay Sullivan was singing “My Girl” along with Smokey Robinson as she turned off the Pacific Coast Highway and into the drive for the Huntington Beach Sand and Sea Condos. “Beach Front Homes on the Sand,” the sign said. She braked at the security gate, turned off the CD player. The dashboard clock said 3:00, she checked her Rolex, 3:15. The dash clock was still slow, and they said they’d fixed it. She sighed. A classic XKE Jaguar was like a boat, you paid for the maintenance, then you paid to have it done again.
“How’s it going, Mrs. Sullivan?” the guard at the gate said.
“Okay for me, Danny boy.” She knew it pleased him, his name said that way.
Danny wore a frown. He was a fifty-eight year old black man with skin dark as Gay’s, who claimed never to have had a bad day in his life. He was the eternal optimist. So the frown worried her.
“What’s wrong?” Her first thought was of the girls.
“The police are back. They want to see Mrs. Kenyon. Now they think she’s missing.”
“She’s not missing. Margo’s off on one of her retreats. Jazz is staying with me.”
“You know it and I know it, but the cops don’t know it.”
“You didn’t tell ’em?”
“I don’t talk to cops.”
“Danny, I’ve got a feeling Margo’s in trouble.”
“Me too. You know what it’s about?”
“Nobody told you? You’re supposed to be the security here.”
“I guess the real cops don’t have much use for guys like me.”
“Well, I sure do, so listen up. Margo was standing in line at the check out behind Frankie Fujimori, at a convenience store in Long Beach, when some guy walks in, pulls out a shotgun and blows Frankie away. Guy pointed the gun at her, apparently changed his mind, then took off. Nobody saw the shooter’s face except Margo.”
“I saw that on the news. Nobody told me Mrs. Kenyon was there.”
“You’re surprised? You know how she felt about Fujimori. She would’ve walked barefoot through hot coals if it would’ve helped put him back where he belonged.”
“She’s a tough one alright.” Danny had that wistful look in his eyes. Gay thought she smelled marijuana. Ah well, God didn’t put her on this earth to judge others. She had enough trouble keeping care of Sonya and her own self.
“Yeah, she’s tough, but that shotgun in her face really shook her up. A cop had to drive her home, guess it was after you got off or you would’ve known. I had to drive her to the police parking lot in Long Beach the next day to get her car.”
“She left that brand new Porsche in a parking lot all night long? In Long Beach?”
“Police parking, but yeah. That’s how shook up she was.”
“I should know this stuff.” Danny narrowed his eyes. The faraway look was gone now. He was one hundred percent concentration.
“The cops want to keep it quiet. I think Margo does too. So don’t tell her I said anything. But it’s stupid of them not to tell you. I mean, what if the killer found out? What if he tried to get by you? You know, to get to her.”
“Nobody gets in here without a tenant clears him. But just the same, I’m gonna be twice as careful now that I know.” He slapped his holstered pistol, a gunfighter ready for battle. “And don’t you worry, I won’t let on you told me.”
“Good.” Gay smiled at him as he waived her past. Stupid cops, not telling Danny, how dumb.
She used her clicker to open the gate for tenant parking, found her spot and parked. At her condo, she saw the door next door was open. She clenched her fists, tensed. She didn’t like the thought of police in Margo’s home. She wasn’t a criminal.
“Yo.” Gay recognized Bruce Kenyon’s voice. He must’ve come in right behind her and parked in the guest parking. She turned and waited. “So, what’s the deal?” he said. “The guy at the gate says there’s cops here to see Margo.”
“I don’t know anything about it.” Gay sighed, she didn’t like Margo’s ex. She didn’t know anybody who did.
Bruce walked into Margo’s apartment without knocking. Gay followed. They were in the living room, making themselves at home. The Hispanic one sitting in one of the rattan chairs had his hair pulled back into a ponytail. The other one, the albino, was sprawled out on the sofa. Gay could spot a cop in a crowd any day, but these two would’ve fooled her.
“Mr. Kenyon.” The one in the chair got up, hand extended to Bruce, but it was the albino on the couch who didn’t get up that caught Gay’s attention. He seemed too relaxed, too at ease, as if he had every right to be where he was, as if he were sitting in his own home, in his own living room. She wondered if anything ever fazed him.
“How’d you get in?” Bruce took the offered hand, shook it. Gay saw the look on Bruce’s face. Contempt.
“Alvarez, Jesse Alvarez. Homicide, Long Beach. That’s my partner, Abel Norton on the divan.”
“I asked how you got in,” Bruce said again, voice tough, like he was brow beating a witness on the stand. Lawyers, Gay didn’t like them, never had.
“Door wasn’t locked.” Norton made no move to get up. The albino had shoulder length white hair, whiter skin and pale grey eyes. A pair of hippy cops.
“You have a warrant?” Bruce said.
“We need one?” Norton shifted on the sofa, caught Gay’s eyes, smiled. It was sincere.
“If you don’t, you’re gonna be looking for a new job.” Bruce had a sneer in his voice now.
“Relax, counselor.” Alvarez tapped his chest, indicating he had the warrant in his inside coat pocket. “We’re covered. As we were when we came in the other day and looked around.”
“You were here Monday,” Gay cut in, “but you didn’t go in her house.”
“We came back Wednesday, about 2:00, 2:30, something like that,” Alvarez said.
That figured, she thought, Danny’s day off. He’d have told her, had he known. “We were at the movies, me and the girls. My daughter and Jasmine.”
“Say again,” Norton said from the sofa. He looked so relaxed in his rumpled cord sportcoat, brown over a plain yellow shirt and faded brown Dockers. The other one seemed uptight in a three piece suit.
“You got a hearing problem?” Bruce said, confrontational. He was a big man, probably a bully when he was in school, Gay thought.
“Sorry,” Norton said. “We thought your wife and daughter had disappeared. Now I hear your daughter is still around and I’m curious.”