Quilting Mystery: Knot In My Backyard Part 19

"Correct. The DA's ready to prosecute Ed Pappas for the murder of Dax Martin."

"Why? The evidence is circ.u.mstantial."

"There's pressure from the US Attorney's Office to wrap up the investigation."

"And you buy that?"

"Not necessarily. Mostly because of what you just told me, but if you know where Ed Pappas is, you should have him surrender with his attorney." Beavers never asked me if Ed was actually at my house or if I knew where he was. He knew me too well. Beavers trusted me to do the right thing. It was a sign he might be thawing-too bad it was too late.

I hung up the phone.

"Is it safe to come out?"

"Let me close the drapes in the living room first."

We sat at the kitchen table, drinking wine. I told Ed about my conversation with Beavers. "The good news is he no longer believes you're a suspect, but he says you need to call your attorney and surrender yourself voluntarily. Arlo Beavers is a smart detective. He'll get to the truth, especially if we give him all we know."

Ed rubbed his forehead. "We should ask Simon, especially since I'm about to be arrested."

Ed called Simon Aiken and told him about the cops coming to arrest him. Then he handed the phone to me. "Simon wants to talk to you."

"Hey, Martha. You don't want to be arrested for harboring a fugitive. I'll be there at five-thirty to pick up Ed and surrender him to the police. Dana just called to alert the DA, so the cops shouldn't be bothering you again, even though they have a warrant. If they do show up, just let Ed go quietly. Make sure they see you recording the arrest on your cell phone. That should keep things peaceful." Aiken referred to the LAPD's reputation for shooting suspects at the slightest provocation.

"Okay. Simon, did you hear what happened at the wildlife reserve this morning?"

"No."

I filled him in on the devastation of the area by Valley Allstar Construction, the confrontation with Lawanda Price, and her threat. "Simon, I'm not sure working with the Feds to get refugee status for Javier and Graciela is the safest thing to do right now. The Army Corps of Engineers took extreme measures to get rid of and intimidate any possible witnesses today when they destroyed the homeless community. Detective Beavers confirmed the DA is being pressured by the US Attorney's Office to prosecute Ed and wrap up the investigation."

Aiken swore. "You're right. Since the US Attorney's Office is working to protect the engineer corps, we can't let them get their hands on those witnesses."

I told him about Pastor Sandoval's call. "I've got a brief opportunity to speak to Javier and Graciela tonight before they leave Los Angeles. I'm going to show them Ed's picture and then I'm going to record what they say. That's probably as much as we'll ever get from them."

"It won't be good enough in court."

"Trust me. It'll be good enough for Arlo Beavers."

CHAPTER 31.

Simon Aiken and Crusher converged on my house at the same time later in the afternoon. Aiken wore a navy blue suit; his engagement diamond sparkled in his ear. "Martha, you're going to interview the witnesses tonight at nine?"

I nodded.

"Good. Hopefully, they saw enough to rule out Ed as the killer. If they do rule him out, we should be able to get him back home tomorrow."

Ed reached in his pocket for his house key, which he placed on my coffee table next to his computer and his gun. "Hold on to these for me?"

"Of course." A lump filled my throat.

Aiken clapped a hand on Ed's shoulder. "You ready, dude?"

Ed nodded.

"Then let's do this."

I rushed to Ed and threw my arms around him. "Don't worry. I'm going to do everything I can to help get you out of this. Detective Beavers doesn't think you're guilty either. He'll find the real killer."

Ed Pappas held on to the hug for a long time. He whispered into my ear, "You're my Jewish mom, Martha." Then he kissed my cheek and looked at Crusher. "Take care of her, bro."

Crusher nodded and they did that dancing-hand thing guys do.

Ed squared his shoulders. "I'm ready, man."

Twenty minutes after they left, the doorbell rang. Detective Kaplan and the four uniforms behind him accounted for five firearms in five hands. He flashed a warrant. "I know he's here, Ms. Rose. Step aside so we can bring him in." Clearly, no one thought to tell Kaplan that Ed was turning himself in to the police at six.

I stepped back in disbelief and did as I was told. When Kaplan saw Crusher, he barked, "Hands on your head, Levy!" Insidious fingers of a migraine slowly squeezed my forehead. Could this day get any worse?

Crusher looked at me, rolled his eyes, and complied. He'd discreetly slipped Ed's gun out of sight. One of the uniforms trained his gun on us while the others rushed through my house and searched every room.

I heard them, one by one, yelling, "Clear."

Kaplan reappeared with a scowl on his face, demanding, "Where'd he go?"

"You must have missed the memo, Detective. Ed Pappas just turned himself in to the police with his attorney. If you want to find him, you'll have to go back to the station."

Kaplan's face turned red and he pulled out his cell phone. After a brief conversation, he said to the uniforms, "Pappas is in custody."

As they walked out the front door, I said to Kaplan, "How's your mother?"

He slammed the door and my head started pounding.

Crusher took Ed's gun out of the computer case. "Technically, as an ex-con, I'm not allowed to touch this." He picked up the gun, made sure a round was chambered, and slipped it back into the computer case.

I rubbed my forehead and went straight for my meds, washing them down with a gla.s.s of water from the faucet in the kitchen.

Crusher looked at the brown plastic prescription bottle in my hand. "What're those for?"

"Headache. Bad."

He stepped close to me and gently kneaded my neck and shoulders. I slumped into the comfort of his large hands working the hard knots in my muscles. In his deep voice, he quietly murmured, "You've had a bad day, babe. I could make it a lot better."

I looked at him. A picture of Kerry Andreason in a hot-pink minidress shaking her tail flashed through my mind, and I was tempted, but not for long. I said the first thing I thought that might discourage Crusher. "I'm in love with Arlo Beavers."

Crusher was n.o.body's fool. He must have sensed my relationship with Beavers had completely tanked. He brushed back one of my curls and his eyes searched my face. "How's that working out for you?"

It wasn't working out, of course, and we both knew it. Arlo laughed at me yesterday and then kissed that flirty blonde, Kerry Andreason. Later in the day, when I said the L-word, he told me we needed to talk about it. He probably wanted to tell me it was too late. Then this afternoon, he didn't even mention talking at all. He just told me to go to Lucy's house if I thought I was in danger. I turned away-anger and hurt burning in my cheeks.

"You need to get some rest, babe. Go lie down. I'll wake you when it's time to go. No one can hurt you while I'm here."

The rumble of his voice was surprisingly rea.s.suring. I walked to my bedroom and climbed under my Ohio Star quilt; b.u.mper joined me on top of the bed. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to oblivion.

Two hours later, someone gently rubbed my back and shoulders, waking me from a deep sleep. Crusher sat on the side of my bed, causing me to roll toward the big dent he made in the mattress. "It's eight-thirty, babe. How's your headache?"

I opened my eyes and smiled. "Gone. Thanks, Yossi." I gestured toward the door. "Just give me a couple of minutes."

"Dang. Our first time in bed together and it was so brief."

I got up, splashed cold water on my face, and eventually made my way to the living room, where he waited.

Crusher tucked Ed's gun inside his leather vest and made sure no one lurked outside the house. Then he hurried me into his truck and we took off for Van Nuys.

We arrived at the church five minutes early. Pastor Sandoval waited inside. He looked at Crusher and stood. "Mrs. Rose, I asked you to come alone."

"I'm sorry, Pastor Sandoval, but I've been threatened too. This is Yossi Levy. He's my friend and bodyguard. He was the one who drove supplies to the homeless on Sunday."

Sandoval relaxed and offered his hand. "They told me 'un gigante rojo' came to give them blankets, but I thought they were exaggerating. Now I'm looking at the red giant with my own eyes."

I looked around in panic when I realized the three of us were alone. "Where are all the people? Are we too late?"

"No. I managed to find temporary shelter for most of the homeless with church families or in shelters. The Acevedos are still in the safe house. I'm going to drive you to where they're staying."

Crusher stepped forward. "I'll drive my car. We'll follow you."

Sandoval pressed his lips together. "You said someone might be after you. If they followed you here, they'll follow you to the safe house. I can't let that happen. There's a back entrance to this building. We'll slip out the door and walk to the next street, where my car is waiting."

Crusher nodded and pulled out the gun as we followed Pastor Sandoval out the back door into a dark alley. We ducked between two apartment buildings, weaving our way through a line of foul-smelling plastic garbage cans to the street beyond. A dark blue Chevy sedan was parked at the curb. Crusher sat up front with Sandoval and hid the gun again. We drove two blocks down the street with the headlights off and turned north. Just before we merged into the cross traffic on Sherman Way, Sandoval turned on the lights.

He drove evasively, with one eye in the rearview mirror. We turned up and down streets, doubled back, then ended up at a small house on Saticoy Street, near White Oak Avenue.

Crusher put his hand on Sandoval's shoulder. "You handled that like a pro. Where'd you learn those tactics?"

Sandoval smiled. "We're only a small stopover in an underground railroad, Mr. Levy. With the help of G.o.d, we save innocent lives."

A minute later we were in the tiny living room of a California bungalow built in the 1940s. A striped Mexican blanket hung over the back of the old blue sofa, and every flat surface in the room was covered with school pictures of four children progressing through the years. The remnants of a spicy dinner remained in the air, and my stomach juices churned in hunger.

Sandoval shook hands with a man I recognized as the one who gave up his seat for me on Sunday afternoon. The wife's long black hair was pinned back into a bun and she wore an ap.r.o.n with a bib over a simple flowered housedress. The man turned to his wife and nodded. "Bueno, Ana."

Ana disappeared down a narrow hallway and came back followed cautiously by a young man and woman: Javier and Graciela Acevedo. At last I'd found the people who witnessed Dax Martin's murder. People who could clear Ed Pappas.

They were small in stature, with the distinctive nut-colored skin of the Indio. Javier was about twenty years old, and I guessed Graciela was still in her teens. She looked to be about six months pregnant. When they saw Crusher, they instinctively clung to each other, glancing frequently at Pastor Sandoval for rea.s.surance. Crusher took one step back in a gesture of peace.

I asked Sandoval if they knew why we were here, and he said they did. I pulled out my cell phone. "I want to record what they say. Is it okay?"

He conferred with the couple, turned back to me, and nodded. "They don't want you to take their pictures. Just ask your questions and I'll translate."

"Buenas noches." I smiled. "You know why I'm here. All I need to know from you is, did you see the murder of the man across the river from your camp?"

Sandoval spoke in Spanish and then turned back to me. "They did see the murder. They are very upset and afraid."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"They said two men walked in back of the ball field to the river's edge. At first, they seemed to be friendly, and the victim laughed. Then suddenly the killer pulled out a baseball bat he carried behind him and hit the second one in the head. The man went down and the killer hit him a few more times."

"Can they describe the killer?"

"They were too far away to get a look at his face in the dark. Plus, he wore a baseball cap."

I pressed a b.u.t.ton on my cell phone and pulled up Ed's picture. "Is this the man you saw?"

Javier and Graciela studied the picture for a long time. Finally they shook their heads and shrugged.

"They can't tell for sure, because of the darkness. It could have been him."

Could have been him?

"Can they remember any details about him? Color of hair, build, how tall?"

"They say he was as tall as the victim and thought he had light hair under the baseball cap. The night was cool and he wore a sweatshirt, but they could see he was slim."

c.r.a.p! This doesn't look good for Ed.

Both he and Dax Martin were around six feet tall. Ed was slim and his hair was light brown. Their testimony wouldn't help. In fact, it would only make Ed look more guilty.

"Is there anything else they can tell me? Anything at all they might have noticed?"

Both Javier and Graciela thought for a moment. Finally Graciela spoke.

Sandoval looked at me. "She thinks the man in the cap had a funny voice."

"Can she be more specific?"

Graciela just shrugged again and I knew I had gotten all the information they possessed.

Okay. Maybe Ed resembled the killer, but so did thousands of men. Plus, Ed's voice was normal, which ruled him out as far as I was concerned. Was Martin killed by an angry school parent because his kid didn't have enough time on the field? If so, that would give a whole new meaning to the word hardball.

What about Jefferson Davis? I'd never actually seen him. Was he tall? Slim? Did he have gray hair? Gray hair would look light under a baseball cap. Time to get a good look at the headmaster of Beaumont.

I thanked the couple for the information and wished them G.o.dspeed.

Sandoval drove us back to the truck. "Did you get what you needed?"

"Yes and no, Pastor. I know my friend didn't commit this murder, but except for the voice thing, he fits their description of the killer. The good thing is, we now have more details than we had before."