“That’s pretty late in her term.”
“She hid it well,” she replied but didn’t feel like that was enough. “We don’t have the best relationship,” she added.
She didn’t like the direction this conversation was going and decided to shift it away from her.
“Did they find the Portillo boy yet?”
“Not yet.”
“I never thought he was the violent type but I guess you never really know what people are capable of doing, do you?”
I let that go unanswered until she looked up at me.
“You want me to play along to help you feel better?”
“Excuse me?” she shot back.
“You know that kid had nothing to do with Morgan’s murder. But if you want me to talk you through it to ease some of your guilt I am happy to oblige. Is railroading Nelson part of whatever plan the family is cooking up?”
“It is not,” she conceded. One thing I admired about Meredith was when I called her on something, she was always big enough to acknowledge it. “And no, I don’t actually think that boy had anything to do with Morgan’s murder.”
“Hire me,” I said.
“What?”
“You don’t believe any of this nonsense being flung around about Nelson Portillo being a murderer. And I don’t get the sense you approve of whatever plan is being cooked up.”
“I already hired you, didn’t I?” She was trying to make a joke out of it to make it go away. I didn’t let her.
“I can find your daughter. I’m close to finding her now. I need your help, Meredith.” She nodded. I couldn’t tell if I was actually getting through to her or if she was just buying time before shooting down my offer. “It’s never too late to turn that relationship around,” I added.
“You and me disobeying Dad?” she dreamed. “He would have a conniption.”
“Let him.”
She tilted her head back and stared out the large slider like she was watching a movie of some fictional world on the other side of the glass.
“Look at him,” she said, pointing at Sami who sat on the edge of a chaise lounge just outside the sliding door. I hadn’t noticed him. He periodically glanced in like someone pretending not to be very interested in what was being said on the other side of the reflection.
“Does he sleep at the foot of the bed, too?”
“No,” she laughed, “but I might ask him to. You’re mean,” she said after some reflection but meant it as a compliment.
“Why are you shutting him out?”
“This is a family matter.”
“So why am I here?”
“You won’t be for long,” she stated.
***
I showed myself out. Meredith was my last hope, but even she couldn’t resist the pull Valenti had on anyone connected to him. I took a moment to take in the cool air trapped under the thick marine layer before heading out on the long drive back to Eagle Rock. It roughly worked out that every three miles equaled one degree warmer on the thermometer. By that calculation it would be ninety-five in my neighborhood.
“There is something happening,” a voice said behind me. Sami scraped through two dwarf palms. He remained close to the wall of the house and safely out of the sightline of the front windows. “Jeanette contacted them,” he said.
It seemed to me he was taking an unnecessarily conspiratorial tone, skulking in the shadows like a daylight robber.
“When?”
“Last night. Meredith got a call from her father. I don’t know what they talked about but it was a long conversation. I tried to ask Meredith afterwards. I didn’t want to push it.” But clearly he had tried. I waited for the response. “She told me it wasn’t any of my concern.”
“Who did Jeanette contact — her mother or the old man?”
“It sounded like her grandfather got the call,” he said. “She is going up to the family house tonight.”
“Jeanette is?” I asked, both elated at her potential return but wary of that same return.
“No, Meredith.”
The family circle was tightening as Meredith and Valenti closed the ranks. It didn’t sound like Jeff made the cut. Fathering Jeanette apparently didn’t qualify for full membership benefits. Jeff would be strung along like the stray following the wagon train to California. He’d never get a seat in the carriage but I think he was content with that arrangement. It was a better situation than the one for interlopers like me and hangers-on like Sami who were shut out completely, left off at some depot in Topeka.
Sami wasn’t taking it very well. He lingered among the prickly palm fronds as if afraid any movement would slice open his bare skin. He had foolishly led himself to believe he’d earned his way in. All the free booze and morning romps and promises of financial support had lulled him into believing it was real. He looked at me with plaintive eyes as if my sensible car was his last ticket out and last chance to catch up to the train.
“If I learn anything, I’ll call you,” I said, which sounded very much like an empty promise. I subconsciously glanced up at the bank of windows above him. This sent him reeling.
“Did she see me?” he stammered.
Before I could reply he retreated into the cut of drought-tolerant plants and out of sight altogether.
THE FINAL DAYS OF THE GAO LI EMPIRE
The dismantling of the empire that Gao built was executed with methodical precision. This was not a job for pyrotechnic experts and their molar-rattling blasts. This one called for precision, like an army of ants tasked with the dismemberment of the unfortunate cricket who had wandered into its path. While one piece was cut away and carried off, six more were loosened for their eventual removal. It was clean, tidy, and cold-hearted.
The opening move was, on the surface, nothing more than a random event. But in isolation they would all feel that way, until you strung a few together and started to get the feeling that there was some grander force behind them choreographing each move.
Overnight, Proposition 57 emerged from the bowels of the Times local section. Polls dedicated to the issue bubbled up. Interviews on local radio with both proponents and opponents spanned the dial. There was big money behind the blitz and although the slant was fairly even with a slight tilt in favor of the NO supporters, it felt bigger than anything Gao and his cohorts could muster.
I texted Claire: “PR machine in full swing. Yours?”
Her response spoke volumes: “We’re on lockdown.”
When the PR plan is underway you don’t want any interference from your own ranks. The word had gone out to the troops. This was clearly coming from Valenti’s side.
Gao himself was featured in several debates and interviews for both TV and radio. At once he was both anywhere and everywhere and consistently with the same headshot. I realized later, as he must have after it was too late, that he walked right into the trap. The free publicity was a boon for his cause, which he greedily took advantage of at every turn. But he did not realize that his visibility was the goal all along. He needed to be recognized before he could be cut down.
The breaking story came just in time for the evening news. Helicopter footage showed the dilapidated roof of the Victorian in Alhambra with a long line of police streaming into the front door of the house. The street was cordoned off to allow a string of ambulances to come and take the “residents” of the house to a properly-sanctioned medical facility. The news outlets alternated between three sets of footage on continuous loop: the overhead shot of chaos and traffic jams, the image of a hysterical Chinese mother wheeled out on a stretcher while a female EMT carried a swaddled baby in her arms, and the arrest photo of the impassive-faced woman at the helm. She looked dour in person and downright grim in a mug shot. It wasn’t long before someone conjured up the name, “The Baby Mill.”