Dig One Grave, page 7
"We were talking five years ago," Erin says. "The Romanian police need a hint. Maybe we can find out what hotel Denise was staying at. It could narrow down the search. These guys are not bright. They are in a foreign country. Here's a thought. Maybe they found the body, but she is a Jane Doe."
"I'll call Romania," David says. "We have to be sure that Denise Kellogg is dead. I don't want to charge these guys with murder and have her pop up alive and well."
"She's dead," Grace says.
"Denise Kellogg is dead, and these creeps did it," Erin says.
CHAPTER 19
Grace's house is a small ranch-style place in a quiet neighborhood on a tree-lined street in San Fernando Valley. The lawn could use mowing, and the flower beds are just dirt. An older Ford SUV pulls into the driveway. Grace climbs out. Erin pulls into the driveway behind an SUV. Erin climbs and leans against the car.
The front door crashes open. Allen Epstein is twelve, wearing jeans, sneakers, and a tee-shirt with the words. I PAUSED MY GAME TO BE HERE. He runs up to Grace and hugs her.
"Hey, Mom!" Allen says.
“Hey Kiddo, how was school?” Grace asks.
"Okay, Debbie Klein thinks I like her." He says, stepping back.
“Do you like her?” Grace asks.
"Mom!" He says, looking embarrassed. "Hi, Aunt Erin."
"No hug? I'm crushed." Erin says.
Allen gives her a hug. "Grand made her world-famous meatloaf. You want to stay for dinner?"
"I know why it's world-famous and not for its taste," Erin says.
“You just gotta use a lot of catsup.”
"Tempting, but I'll pass. Besides, I've got a dinner to get to."
"Aw, stay. I wanna ask you something."
“Ask now.”
"Oh God, here it comes," Grace says.
"You won all that money last year, and you got interviewed by the news and stuff?" Allen asks, sounding excited.
“What? You want a loan?” Erin asks with a laugh.
"No, Mom says you went to dinner with George Clooney." He says.
"Not true. I went to a fundraiser for climate change. George and his lovely wife were there. We chatted for about two minutes. I chatted with a lot of people. They all wanted me to donate." I don't like where this is going. You want to meet George Clooney. I think he lives in Italy."
"Yeah, but you met him," Allen says.
“So?” Erin asks.
"I've got to live with this," Grace says.
"I still want to change my name," Allen says.
"Why do you want to change your name? I like Allen." Erin asks.
"Allen is okay, but Chance Iron. Now that rings." He says with confidence.
"Chance Wayne," Erin asks in an amused tone. "Kid, no one would believe your mother named you Chance. Is anyone really named Chance by a mother?"
"You're not changing your name," Grace says firmly. "Allen Epstein is a perfectly good name. It was good enough for your grandfather. It is good enough for you."
"For an accountant or undertaker," Allen says. Not the next James Cameron."
"The next James Cameron? What do you want from me? To front your first film?"
"I would like to point out," Grace says. "That Steven Spielberg has done very well with his name. He's a nice Jewish boy."
"Maybe," Allen says, ignoring his mother. "I'm thinking maybe you can introduce me to George Clooney or someone else in the business."
"I didn't know you were a fan," Erin says, looking surprised. "His movies aren't really for kids. I might be able to get you some pictures and movie posters."
"Aunt Erin, I know how the business works. It's who you know. I need contacts to jump-start my career." Erin says, sounding very earnest. "I know you. You know Clooney. All I need is the intro. I can handle the rest."
"I chatted with the man for two minutes," Erin says. "That was mostly to his wife. He mostly stood there looking handsome and being very charming."
"But you met him," Allen says, looking up at Erin.
"Okay, I'm out of here," Erin says, opening her car door.
Grace pulls Allen back toward the house.
“Is that a yes or no?” Allen yells.
"I'll think about it, you nut," Erin yells. "I have to protect my contacts.
"I understand. Sleep on it. We'll talk tomorrow." He yells.
Erin closes the door and drives off. Grace leads Allen to the front and sits him on the porch.
"Think she'll do it," Allen asks.
"She will do what she can," Grace says. "She loves you, but doesn't bug her about it." Grace sits by her son and puts her arm around him. "All right, let's go choke down Grand's meatloaf."
“How about Deacon Holmes?” He asks.
"Oh God, spare me..." She says, looking up at the sky.
CHAPTER 20
Venice Beach is a famous place not just for the sand and food but also for Broadway, where you can buy sunglasses, shirts, posters, and anything else a tourist would want. Erin walks onto the sand and looks at a large crowd, most of whom are playing drums. There are all kinds of drums being played. People danced to the beat on the outer rim and in the center. She smiles and walks over. Steve Scott is in his late thirties, wearing shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and glasses. He beats on a large drum in the middle of the crowd. Erin walks up to him. He smiles. Erin begins to dance to the beat. Steve howls as she dances close to him. Then, he moves away. She begins to dance with two young ladies. They are soon bumping and grinding against each other. Erin is really into it.
The drum circle is breaking up. Erin is walking with Scott, who is carrying his drum.
"Glad you came by," Scott says.
"I am, too," Erin says, glances back, and waves at the young girls.
“We gonna have sex tonight?” He asks with a big smile.
"I hope so. That's what I came for."
"Good, that takes off the pressure. You okay?"
"Long day. Hey, you know anything about Watershaw Accounting?" Erin asks.
“Erin, I haven't been an accountant for years.” He says.
"Scott, do you know them?" Erin asks, sounding impatient.
"Yes. Clever guys."
“Why clever?” She asks.
“You know what the Big Eight is?” He asks.
“No.”
"The Big Eight are the big accounting firms." He says, sounding like a teacher. "They get the big business, corporate accounts, and people who might have questionable reputations. Then, people like you go to smaller firms because you want that personal touch. At the bottom are people like me who go to H and R Block. That leaves the upper middle class. Not rich enough to go the Big Eight but too rich to go to H and R. Along comes Watershaw Accounting. They help these guys."
“So we're talking millions?” Erin asks.
"Closer to hundreds of millions. Why are you asking about them? They have a good rep, but I would stay with the firm you are with. They understand your needs. They know you want to buy stuff but will help you not go crazy and blow all your money. Many people win the lottery, and it ruins their lives."
"Hopefully not me," Erin says.
"Not you. You're smart. You kept your job even though you don't need to."
“I like my job.”
"Why are you asking about Watershaw?"
"One of those clever guys got murdered last night. While we were investigating that. We uncovered the other officers were ripping off their boss' trust fund."
"Ripping off a trust fund is hard. There are a lot of checks and balances. You would need the trustee. That is the guy who oversees the account. You get him, and you could pull it off. Still, someone at the bank would start asking questions. If something was going on, would they contact the beneficiary? If the beneficiary has hundreds of millions. He might not notice the money going out of his account, but the bank would. They would need a way to keep the bank off their backs."
"He is a she," Erin says. "We are talking two billion. Supposedly, she is traveling."
"You think these guys killed her to protect their crime? Someone would notice her missing. Family. Friends."
“No family. She was in Romania five years ago. Hasn’t been seen or heard of her since.”
"They kept the illusion of her still being alive for five years. That is impressive, but it would eventually fall apart like all scams. Annoyance and greed are almost always the reason scammers get caught. The bank would ask questions if they thought something irregular was happening. If they are pretending to be her. The smart thing would be to keep her alive. The only reason to kill her would be if the scam was falling apart."
"We think one of them was about to blow the whistle on the others. So they killed Arnie." Erin says. "We almost broke them, but then they yelled lawyer.
"You'll get them." He says. "You two always do."
“Yeah, yeah, we do.” She says. “Grace is the best.”
"Want to go up to my place and mess around?" He says, taking her hand. Erin lets him pull her toward the boardwalk.
CHAPTER 21
Greg kisses Stella at the door of the penthouse. She pats his chest and smiles. "Greg, I can't do this anymore. Arnie is dead. The cops might think I had something to do with his murder...Seriously. I know about triplets. So we are done. I know you just want me for sex. I going to stop while I still have some self-esteem left. Good night."
Greg just shrugs as he watches her leave before closing the door. There is a knock on the door. He smiles, goes back, and opens the door. "Change your mind?"
CHAPTER 22
Grace comes into Allen's room and smiles at the movie posters. She stops at his computer and looks at the screen. It seems like he's working on a screenplay. Grace shakes her head and turns it off.
Allen sits up and asks. "Is something wrong, Mom?
"Oh good, you're awake," Grace says.
“Hard to sleep with you stomping around.”
“I wasn't stomping.” Grace sits on the bed and looks at Allen. “We’re doing all right. Aren’t we?”
"Yeah," Allen asks. "Why are you asking that for?"
"We never really talk about your father dying," Grace asks.
"I don't know. It happened so suddenly. Dad went to work. Gets shot. Dies. I don't understand why another cop would kill him. It made no sense."
Grace lets off a deep sigh. "You remember when your father and I were fighting. We both were drinking. One night. I was drunk. The next morning, I woke up in bed beside him. I don't remember if we had sex. He says we did. Your father did the same thing. It was a wake-up call for both of us. We went to counseling and started talking again."
"You work everything out," Allen said. "You both seem happy the last couple of years. Did this guy think if Dad was dead? You would get back together with him?"
"Yes. I guess the jerk didn't think the police would be caught. The moron forgot your dad's body cam was on. The whole thing was caught on video."
“How come he isn’t in prison?” Allen asks.
“He is out on bail until the jury reaches a verdict.”
“When will that be?”
"Honey, they just started discussing the case today, and that was just for an hour. They will likely convict him tomorrow.
"Good. Mom, I am okay. You have been great. My friends have been really nice." Allen says. Then smiles. "How strong are you against the name change?"
"Really? Now? We were having a moment." Grace says, looking at him. "I guess the moment is over. Good night."
CHAPTER 23
Greg, wearing only his underwear, his hands, feet, and mouth are duct taped. He twists around on the kitchen floor. Someone is pouring water all over him. Greg sobs while pleading around the duct tape gag. When Greg is soaking wet. Wearing thick winter gloves, the killer grabs his feet and drags him into a walk-in freezer. The door is shut. The killer is wearing boots and a parka. A half-full brandy sniffer and a lit cigar in a saucer sitting on a small table. There is a wooden chair beside this. The killer picks up the brandy and cigar. The killer blows smoke rings into the air.
Greg twists and turns around on the floor. Frost is already starting to form in his hair and his face.
CHAPTER 24
Dennis, sweaty, clothes rumpled, steps into the room. Hilda steps up in a black leather outfit with high leather boots, bringing a riding crop to his face. "You are late."
"I know. I have been a bad boy. A naughty boy." Dennis says in a child-like voice. "I need to be punished."
"Punished?" Hilda says, bringing the crop down against her hip. A loud crack fills the room. "Yet, here you are dressed. Standing there like you have nothing to be sorry about!"
"I am sorry, mistress." Dennis whimpers, dropping to his knees. He starts to unbutton his shirt."
Tara stands by the door of a room that Randy has set up as a place to paint. There are several oil paintings of landscapes and three of Tara. His work is alright, but he will never be a famous artist. Randy stands in front of an easel with a blank canvas on it. He looks back. "Are you going to pose or not?"
"It's late. I'm not in the mood." Tara says with a pout. "I was in the mood an hour ago."
"I'm sorry. I had to work late."
"Was it work," Tara says, walking over and stopping before him. "Or were the cops talking to you about Arnie?"
"Yes, I was at the police station," Randy says. "It's very stressful."
"If you are stressed," Tara says, pulling off her top and cupping her breasts. "I know how to make you relax. Are you stressed because of poor Arnie or the masterpieces you bought with money that wasn't yours?"
"You know about that?" Randy says, sounding surprised. He can't take his eye off Tara as she pinches and pulls on her nipples. "Oh God, what am I going to do?"
"Tell me everything," Tara says, taking her hands off her breasts. She puts his hands on her breasts. "Tara knows what you need. Let's go to bed, and I'll give you what you need. You confess all your sins to me."
Tara grabs his tie and pulls him closer. She plants small kisses on her neck and lips. "Tell me everything."
With a pout on her face, Tiffany sits in a chair, staring into the fireplace. Sean stands behind her.
"Tiffany, I said I was sorry," Sean says.
"We were supposed to go to the theater." She says. "You promised."
"Something came up." He says, sounding desperate.
"Something is always coming up." She pouts. "Now the police have come to our home. I want no trouble. Maybe I should go home."
Sean falls to his knees, takes her hands, and kisses them. "It is nothing. The police won't bother you again. Look, I'll take the day off tomorrow, and we'll go shopping and then to lunch at that cafe you like."
Tiffany looks down at him and smiles. "I have to go to the spa in the morning. I need a massage after today. We can after that, yes?
"Yes, yes. We can." Sean says, still kissing her hands. "I will do anything for you. Anything."
"I forgive you. Come." Tiffany says, stands, takes his hand, helps him up, and leads him out of the room.
Wilford is down in his wine cellar. Constance comes down and looks at the small table with chairs set up. An open bottle of wine with wine glasses is set up on the table. She smiles.
"You have let the wine breathe too long," Constance says, coming over and sitting down.
"It couldn't be helped," Wilford says.
"I know," Constance says, taking his hand. "The sign of a true gentleman is how he handles a crisis. I am here for you. Come."
Constance helps him up and leads him up the stairs. She stopped and kissed him on the lips. "Be strong."
CHAPTER 25
Erin sits at her desk, working on her computer. She is wearing a plum suit with a black silk turtleneck. Grace, a lovely black pantsuit with black sneakers, walks up. Erin looks up and stares. Grace gives her a look. "What? You are the only one who can wear nice clothes to work."
"It's the sneakers," Erin says.
“They are comfortable. We all can’t afford whatever you are wearing.”
"We are being a little bitchy today," Erin says. "Care to share."
"It's just the kid," Grace says. "He is growing up too fast."
"I've heard that, but having no kids of my own. I can only guess."
"So where are we at?" Grace asks, sitting down but looking over at the coffee maker. "Should I take a chance on the coffee?"
Erin takes a STARBUCKS cup out of an open drawer and holds it to Grace. "I got your back."
"You are the best partner," Grace says, taking the cup and drinking it. Sorry, where are we?"
"I called the police in Romania," Erin says. "They were very nice but had nothing to tell us. We need a picture. They will check their Jane Does and see if they can get a match. One thing: he wanted to send us some info on a guy they are looking for. Ran a high-end brothel for the very rich. Apparently, not all his employees were there willingly. One night, it burnt down. The guy who owned it disappeared. The ladies who worked there all vanished."
“We talking mass murder?” Grace asked.
"That's one of the questions they want to ask him. They got a tip he might be in Los Angeles. Moving on. Our surveillance reported that Greggie and Stella went up to the penthouse. She came down after a very short time. Greggie stayed and spent the night at the penthouse. He's still up there.
“Let's go see what Greggie is up to.”
CHAPTER 26
Grace and Erin walk into the penthouse and stop at the sight of Greg's clothes piled on the floor.
"I am really hoping Greggie was in a hurry," Grace says.
"Optimist," Erin says. "I am thinking this is not a good thing. Mr. Tullington! Sheriff's department! Make yourself know!"
When they get no answer. They pull their pistols and move into the front room. Erin points toward the kitchen. Grace nods and moves beside her. "Mr. Tullington! Sheriff's department. Make yourself known!"
