She tossed the water bottle to me and left. I listened to her footsteps fade, then closed the door, locked it, and went through my desk. Nothing seemed disturbed, and nothing was missing.
27
PACIFIC PALISADES LAY at the edge of the world where Los Angeles kissed the sea. Safe and secure between Santa Monica on the south, Malibu on the north, and Brentwood on the east, the Palisades offered a desirable location for affluent Angelenos. The Riviera Country Club made the location even more desirable. Rich people liked golf.
The address for Nora Gurwick led along gentle streets lined by gracious homes into hills overlooking the ocean. Most of the homes were immaculate Spanish or Mediterranean villas, reminiscent of an earlier time and rich with genteel elegance. More Ross Macdonald than Raymond Chandler.
Nora Gurwick lived on a cul-de-sac. The buy-in price was steep, but Nora’s home was neither elegant nor genteel. It was newly built, ugly, and faced with marble, granite, and steel, as out of place on the lovely street as a fly in a glass of juice.
I cruised to the end of the cul-de-sac, looking for Tyson’s car, but no aging brown Volvos were present.
An older woman wearing breeches and riding boots pushed a stroller out of a driveway and into the street. I stopped to let her cross. She smiled, thanking me. I smiled, saying take your time. A tiny hand reached from the stroller and waved at the sky.
When the woman and baby were out of the street, I idled back to the house.
Black concrete steps the size of small patios climbed to a courtyard entry with an oversized steel door. Bright green bamboo inside the courtyard towered above the door and the house. Black camera domes watched the street and the courtyard from white marble walls. A keypad entry topped by another dome waited beside the door. I walked up the steps, pushed the ringer, and waited. I felt like I was back at the Slausons. A lot of ringing, but no one answered.
“She’s gone.”
The woman with the stroller was across the street.
“Nora?”
“I think she’s in Banff. Or maybe it’s Aspen. She travels.”
She made a little smirk when she said it. I liked the smirk. The smirk told me she had more to say and might be willing to say it if I gave her the chance.
I made my way down the oversized slabs and joined her. The baby arched her back, and smiled.
“Your baby’s a doll.”
The woman adjusted the baby’s blanket.
“My granddaughter. Number three, and a fourth on the way.”
“Wonderful news. Congratulations.”
I wiggled my fingers and made a face. The baby laughed and kicked, and her grandmother and I laughed along. We were all so happy, I asked about Amber.
“Actually, I’m not here to see Nora. I’m looking for Amber. Has Amber been around?”
The laugh and the smile faded.
“Is that poor girl in trouble again?”
Trouble.
“A friend of hers. A boy. I’m hoping Amber can help.”
“Like mother, like daughter. What a mess.”
I introduced myself and gave her a card.
Rae Bracken’s grip was firm, and her manner was relaxed and casual, like a person who was comfortable with herself.
She studied the card and handed it back.
“I’ve never met a private detective before.”
I tried to give modest.
“The others are kind of a letdown.”
She blinked, and then she laughed.
“You’re funny. I like funny.”
“Good. A girl’s first should be special.”
The laugh became a grin.
“And a flirt. I’m liking you even more.”
Mr. Likable.
“Has Amber been around? I need to ask her a few questions.”
She made a ‘who knows?’ face.
“I haven’t seen poor Amber in months. They fight.”
“Amber and her mother?”
“All three. It’s like a reality show over here, the trashy mother with all the ex-husbands, duck lips out to here—”
Rae held a hand a foot from her mouth to show me.
“—one drama after another, all the fighting and nagging and craziness. No wonder those girls are a mess.”
Girls.
“Does Amber have a sister?”
“Jazzi. Jazzi’s older. She got out of Dodge as soon as she could. And who could blame her, all the fighting.”
“Is Jazzi’s last name Gurwick?”
“Reed. Same as Amber. Reed was the first husband.”
She arched her eyebrows and tipped her head at the house.
“Dick’s the fifth.”
“Dick is Nora’s husband?”
“Was. Past tense. Probably got sick of those lips.”
The baby began to fuss. Rae picked her up, and bounced her.
“Amber could be with Jazzi. When the fighting got really bad, Amber would stay with her sister. She should’ve moved out sooner, you ask me. Maybe she wouldn’t’ve been such a mess.”
Amber being a mess reminded me of something she mentioned earlier.
“You said Amber’s been in trouble.”
She frowned at the house, but whatever caused the frown was hidden by marble and granite.
“One thing after another, to hear Nora tell it. Drugs, boys, all the acting out and wild behavior.”
“Was she ever arrested?”
“I don’t think so, but I don’t know. They’ve only lived here the three years.”
Rae stroked her granddaughter’s head. She snuggled the baby close as she looked at me.
“She tried to kill herself. Twice that I know of.”
“Amber?”
She nodded.
“The ambulance woke us. I thought she’d done it again when I saw the police.”
She glanced at the house when she said it, and I glanced with her.
“The police were here?”
“Yesterday. Someone broke in.”
“Yesterday during the day?”
“I guess. I was at the barn. When I got home, the street was blocked, and I thought, oh my God, Amber has finally done it. I couldn’t get past the police cars.”
“Scary. Did the officers tell you what happened?”
“Just that someone broke in and I shouldn’t worry. I guess the alarm went off. They didn’t say very much.”
“Have you seen a black sedan recently, here in the cul-de-sac?”
“Like a limo?”
“Could be, I guess. A four-door sedan with dark windows. Black.”
She made a half-hearted shrug.
“A car is a car.”
“Would you have a phone number or an address for Jazzi?”
“No, but Nora left her cell. She says to me, if Dick shows up with a truck, call me right away. Can you imagine, like I want to get involved in their divorce?”
“Drama.”
The baby kicked and fussed, and Rae bounced her again, but this time the bouncing didn’t help.
“Let me give her to the housekeeper and I’ll be back with Nora’s number.”
Rae Bracken bounced her granddaughter into her house, and I returned to Nora’s. With all the cameras dotting her home, Nora Gurwick almost certainly subscribed to a security service. I found their sign by the garage. WHITE SHIELD HOME PROTECTION. Twenty-four-hour surveillance. Armed response. I studied the camera domes on Nora’s house, and liked what I saw. The Slausons’ surveillance cameras had snagged a picture of Tyson, so maybe Nora’s cameras returned the favor. Maybe they recorded the person or persons who broke into Amber’s house, and White Shield was willing to share.
Rae Bracken returned with Nora’s number a few minutes later. I called, and got the inevitable voice mail.
 
; “Hi, this is Nora. Please leave a message, and I’ll return your call.”
Nora’s voice message surprised me. She sounded normal.
I left my name, number, and a message I hoped she couldn’t resist.
“Rae Bracken gave me your number. I have information about Dick you’ll find helpful.”
I put down the phone, and thought about White Shield. They probably wouldn’t share with a private investigator they didn’t know, but Dave Deitman might have better luck. I called him.
“I need some info about a White Shield account. You have an in over there?”
“One or two, maybe. Whatcha need?”
I gave him Nora’s address and explained.
“The house is covered with cameras, so they’ll have video. I need a shot of the people who entered. Two cameras in front look like they cover the street. If they caught a black sedan roll past, I want it.”
“This tied in with the Slausons?”
“If it’s who I think it is, yes. If a bunch of teenage girls broke in to party, then no.”
Dave told me to give him a few minutes, but I waited for almost twenty before he called.
“Wasn’t a bunch of girls.”
“Two men? Big guys?”
“No video. They got nothing, bud.”
“Waitaminute. I’m outside the house. I’m looking at cameras.”
“Somebody put’m to sleep. Near as White Shield can tell, somebody hacked the homeowners’ system through the Wi-Fi, which isn’t easy to do.”
“What about the alarm? The police rolled out.”
“Pool boy called’m. You know who did this?”
“No.”
“You telling the truth?”
“When I know who did it I’ll tell you.”
“Must’ve been something real nice inside.”
“Why?”
“It takes custom equipment and rare skills to do what they did. People like these, they’re for real. Not just anyone can do this.”
I hung up and stared at the house.
One big, one bigger, smart, with rare skills.
The two men found Nora’s home a full day before me. They found the Crenzas before me, Louise August before me, and Alec before me. If they found Jazzi before me, their winning trend would continue. Maybe they already had, and Tyson and Amber were dead, but I did not believe it.
Since I wasn’t smart and didn’t have rare skills, the answer was obvious. The only way I could find Tyson was with Tyson’s help.
I figured out what I wanted to say, and tapped out a message.
The men who killed Alec want a laptop you stole. They killed a woman named Louise August to find you. Google her. They know who you and Amber are, and where you live. They’ve searched your homes. If your mother had been there, she would be dead. You can’t run or hide from these people. Remember the Terminator? They are the Terminator. They will find you and Amber, and it won’t matter whether you have their computer. You understand this, right? They do not leave witnesses. You’re smart. Think. Talk to me.
I sent the text, and waited.
The phone didn’t buzz.
Tyson didn’t respond.
After a while I felt stupid and angry, and put the phone aside.
Not just anyone can do this.
I started my car and got on with the hunt.
28
TYSON CONNOR
THEY WERE SEATED on the patio of a popular vegan café in West Hollywood. The patrons around them were young, hip, and stylishly posed, sipping herbal tea from Peru or Spanish soy lattes. Tyson felt like a kid at the zoo, spying on exotic beasts who could not see him. When Tyson and Amber arrived, the sidewalk had been crowded with people waiting to be seated, but Amber grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd to a girl with a clipboard. Two minutes later, they were shown to a table.
Amber said, “I love this place. Isn’t it great?”
Tyson said, “Yeah.”
Tyson covered his phone when the waitress delivered their food. A wild mushroom tofu scramble for Amber, avocado toast with black bean chorizo and cashew crema for him. Everything was organic, plant-based, and contained no animal products. Tyson didn’t think he would like it.
The waitress spoke to Amber.
“Can I bring you anything else?”
Amber made this amazing smile.
“This looks fantastic. Thank you so much.”
The waitress glanced briefly at Tyson.
“You okay?”
“Fine. Thanks.”
Amber said, “I love your earrings.”
The waitress rolled her eyes.
“Boyfriend medicine.”
“Girl, don’t I know!”
They laughed together like besties forever. Tyson had seen Amber’s magic too many times to count, but it still left him awed. People fell in love with her.
When the waitress left, Tyson uncovered his phone, and turned it so Amber could see.
“Do you know this lady?”
Amber glanced at the picture.
“She kinda looks familiar.”
“She lived in Venice, close to the flea market. It says she was a regular. Maybe you and Alec met her.”
Amber studied the picture, and slowly nodded, like she remembered, but wasn’t positive.
“Maybe, yeah. Who is she?”
“Her name was Louise August.”
Tyson glanced at the picture and article he’d found online.
“She was murdered. Like Alec.”
Amber frowned and pushed his phone away.
“Please stop reading this stuff. It makes me sad. It makes me sad and upset, and I don’t want to be upset.”
Posts about Alec had been appearing on Facebook, and then Cole mentioned Louise August. Tyson Googled her, and learned she was a seventy-six-year-old woman who sold handmade pillows, dolls, and stuffed animals at the flea market. Beloved by neighbors and known for her kindness, she had been bludgeoned to death.
Tyson lowered his voice so the people nearby wouldn’t hear.
“My mom was right about Alec. What if they’re connected?”
“She isn’t right. Not how you mean.”
“Alec was shot!”
A dude at a nearby table looked, and Tyson felt himself flush.
Amber said, “Yes, and I’m really upset, but Sophia said it was road rage. You know what Alec was like. He probably flipped off some crazy gangbanger.”
Sophia knew Alec from his job waiting tables. Tyson had seen her post on Alec’s Facebook page the night before, and searched for more. None of the posts mentioned the burglaries, but Tyson was worried. The facts he found fit with the claims his mother and Cole had made. He even thought about sneaking home to see if their house had been searched, but decided against it. The police might have set a trap. Or Cole.
Tyson said, “The road rage thing is just a theory. The police don’t know what happened. They said so on the news. They’re investigating.”
Amber leaned across her tofu. She opened her eyes really wide, as if her eyes were saying this should be obvious.
“Nobody. Knows. Who. We. Are.”
Cole knew. And according to Cole, the men who killed Alec knew.
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m right. If they knew, we’d be in jail.”
“Not knowing works both ways.”
She shook her head and spread her hands.
“Confused. I have no idea what you just said.”
Tyson lowered his voice even more.
“We don’t know who we robbed. We walked into houses. We don’t know who lived there. What if we robbed the Godfather? The Godfather doesn’t call the police. He sends Luca Brasi. Hitmen.”
Amber straightened. She pursed her lips
, and her pretty face grew hard.
“You’re really becoming a pain.”
“I’m not trying to be a pain.”
She picked at the mushrooms.
“You started all this. You and your stupid mother.”
Tyson felt himself flush again, and stared at his food. He didn’t want Amber to be mad. Amber was the greatest thing that ever happened to him.
They sat in silence, and Tyson stared at his food until Amber finally spoke.
“These mushrooms are really good.”
Tyson tasted the black bean chorizo. The texture was weird and the cashew crema left a film in his mouth.
“This chorizo is really good, too.”
“The Godfather didn’t kill Alec, all right? That’s a story your mother made up to fit your confession. You wrote the script for her.”
Tyson felt embarrassed, but kinda angry.
He said, “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
“Don’t freak, okay? That’s how people get caught.”
“I’m not freaking.”
“Talking about hitmen sounds like you’re freaking. Hitmen.”
She rolled her eyes.
“All I’m saying is we should find out what happened to Alec, and whether my mom is right about anything else.”
Amber put down her fork.
“No, you’re saying you want to go home to Mommy and turn yourself in.”
Tyson hated the word ‘mommy.’ A man had a mother. A child had a mommy. Amber called her mother Nora. Like they weren’t even related.
“I don’t want to go home.”
“Well, duh. How else can you find out what’s happening? Was your house really searched? Go home and see. Did the Godfather kill Alec? Go home. You and your mommy can ask the police.”
“I’m not going home.”
“Then stop going on about it.”
Amber picked up her fork, hesitated, then put it down.
“You broke my heart.”
Her statement dropped out of nowhere and rocked him.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.”
“I trusted you, and you betrayed me. You betrayed all of us. When you confessed.”
Tyson’s face and neck burned with shame.
“I didn’t tell about you. Or Alec.”