Quilting Mystery: Knot In My Backyard Part 8

Ed pointed to a man sitting alone in a chair. "This is our friend Simon Aiken. He's also my attorney. Fortunately, he was here when the cops arrested me. He stuck with me during the interrogation and eventually got me out without being charged."

Simon Aiken acknowledged me with intense dark eyes. He had a raptor's nose, high cheekbones, and dark hair. Instead of biker leather, Aiken wore a gray Italian suit, with a tie of sky blue silk loosened around his neck.

Ed finally introduced me to a young woman, with very long brown hair, wearing gray linen slacks and a blue cotton blouse. The Prius probably belonged to her. "This is Dana Fremont, Simon's a.s.sistant. Simon has to be in court this afternoon, so we only have these two for a short time. Dana's going to be taking notes."

Dana smiled and wiggled her fingertips before looking back down at her iPad.

Ed provided a cardboard container of Starbucks coffee and pastries from Eva's European Bakery in a pink box. Next to the pink box sat a white box from Western Donuts with six apple fritters. I glanced up. Crusher watched to see which box I'd choose. I took a fritter. Crusher smiled.

Dear G.o.d.

I took a seat in a brown chair so large that my feet dangled awkwardly above the floor.

"Okay. Let's review the facts." Simon Aiken took control of the meeting. "Martha, can you tell us about finding the body and the homeless camp? Then maybe you can walk us through the details of your search for those possible witnesses. Start at the beginning."

All eyes turned toward me and I put down my coffee and fritter. "I discovered Dax Martin's body Monday morning behind the Beaumont School ball field on the riverbank. He died where he lay. Looked like he was beaten to death." I explained my theory about how, since Martin was a bully, he wouldn't have gone outside the perimeter fence alone-unless he knew his attacker and felt safe.

Ed nodded in agreement. "The guy was a tool."

I took another sip of coffee. "You know how the sides of the river back there are covered with stucco? Well, on the far side, the riverbank is overgrown with bushes and small trees. Before I discovered the body, I noticed a couple of bedrolls, a metal pot, and other camping items hidden in the underbrush. I wonder if whoever slept over there witnessed the attack on Sunday night. I learned there were two of them, a man and a woman."

Simon typed something on his laptop. "Tell us how you found that out."

I reviewed my conversation with Hilda and her setting up the ten o'clock meeting with Switch. "You probably are all aware of what happened afterward."

Simon circled his index finger in the air in a gesture for me to continue. "I want to hear it from your perspective. Don't leave out any details."

"I contacted Yossi and-"

Dana looked up, confused. "Who's Yossi?"

Crusher s.h.i.+fted in his seat and grunted. "Me."

Dana looked at him, raised her eyebrows, snorted, and then bent once more to her typing.

"I contacted Yossi and asked him to back me up. He came up with the plan to hide on the off-ramp while I talked to Switch. I brought my friend's German shepherd with me for protection. Switch told me the possible witnesses were Hispanic, Javier and Graciela. He said he collected rent from them. He also led me to believe he knew where they were. That thief charged me four hundred dollars for the information. Then he grabbed my arm and tried to drag me into the bushes. You know the rest."

Ed looked shocked. "You paid him four hundred dollars of your own money? Wait right there." He briefly left the room and returned with four $100 bills. He kissed my cheek. "You're really awesome."

Aiken looked at Crusher and Carl. "Tell me again for the record what happened."

Crusher leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "As soon as that guy touched Martha, me and the boys went in. Maybe five, ten seconds is all it took us. The dog attacked and Switch cut him. In the scuffle, the little slime ball was disarmed and he got cut too." Crusher looked around the room, but he avoided my eyes. "Maybe a few times. Meanwhile, some of his guys came out of the bushes, but we fought them off. Carl's job was to take care of Martha. As soon as she got out safely, we left too."

Aiken turned to Carl. "Tell me what you did."

"Like Crusher said, we got there in only a few seconds. I grabbed Martha's shoulders from behind and dragged her around the other side of her car and told her to go. She wouldn't leave her dog. So I helped her get him inside the car and she laid rubber getting out of there. When those punks saw Switch bleeding on the ground, they ran. That's when we jumped on our bikes and booked."

Aiken turned back to me. "Do you have any more ideas about how to find this homeless couple?"

I'd just taken a large bite of apple fritter; the flakes of sugary glaze clung to the corners of my mouth. I held up my hand, stalling a moment to take a sip of coffee and clean my face with a napkin. "I watched a groundskeeper mow the edges of the field yesterday. I think we should talk to him. Since his job takes him all around the property, he might have observed something. He's one of those anonymous guys who labor quietly in the background. They may be unnoticed, but they still see a lot of stuff that goes on."

Aiken made another note on his laptop. "Dana, see if you can get his name and schedule."

Ed pointed out his living-room window to the field beyond. "No need. I think he works Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. I usually hear his mower then."

I raised my hand a little. "Tomorrow's Friday. I can go talk to him. I find people are more likely to open up to a senior-looking citizen than to a biker-looking guy."

Aiken smiled for the first time that morning. "I can see why Crusher likes you. You're one fearless little lady."

Crusher turned redder than normal and refused to meet my eyes.

I actually felt sorry for him.

"I'm pretty sure I uncovered a real suspect yesterday."

Everyone stopped smiling and looked at me. Even Crusher.

"Out by the field, I came across a young woman standing at the fence, crying."

I told them about Diane Davis-her previous romantic history with Dax Martin and her possessive, controlling husband, Jefferson. "This may be farfetched, but if Mrs. Davis had an affair with Martin, maybe her husband killed him in a fit of rage."

Aiken nodded slowly. "That possibility could raise serious doubt in the DA's mind and keep Ed from being arrested and charged with murder. It could also raise doubts in a jury's mind if this ever goes to trial."

Ed slapped his hands together once and pointed at me, arm straight in front of him. "I told you she was good at figuring things out."

Aiken turned to his a.s.sistant. "Dana, see what you can find on Jefferson Davis and Diane Davis. Ed, you told me you uncovered something funny involving the school, the city, and the Army Corps of Engineers."

Ed talked about the lack of permits, inspections, or an environmental report on file with the city. "So I tried to get information from the Army Corps of Engineers about the land they lease to the Beaumont School, but they refused to make any doc.u.ments available."

Aiken scowled. "They can be compelled to disclose under the Freedom of Information Act. I'll put some pressure on them and see what I can find out. If this baseball stadium was built illegally, we want any future jury to see Ed as a concerned citizen trying to save his neighborhood from the bad guys-not as a villain out to kill a baseball coach."

He looked at his watch and stood. "Good work, everyone. Keep digging. Let's meet back here tomorrow evening, say at seven?"

I also stood. Donut crumbs fell from my lap to the floor. "Not tomorrow evening. I'm having dinner with my uncle Isaac. I'm available Sat.u.r.day."

"Sat.u.r.day good with everyone?" The rest agreed. "Okay, let's meet here at ten on Sat.u.r.day morning." I walked outside and watched Aiken put on his helmet, stow his laptop in a carrier behind the saddle, and ride his Harley toward the Van Nuys Courthouse.

Simon Aiken inspired confidence with his take-charge att.i.tude. I was sure we'd get to the bottom of what went down among the Beaumont School, the city, and the Army Corps of Engineers. If Dax Martin's murder had anything to do with it, we might even discover his killer.

CHAPTER 15.

Before I reached my front door, Sonia Spiegelman rushed over from her house across the street. She wore tan cotton trousers and a loose paisley blouse from India. Thin bangles clattered on her wrist. Her smile was genuine, but her eyes had a certain hungry, wolverine quality. Sonia was sniffing around for news. "Hey, Martha. I see you have a new guy coming to your house. You know, the big biker. I thought you were dating a cop."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Really? I have all types of friends. Like you, for instance."

"So I see Ed Pappas is home now. Has your cop friend told you anything new about the murder?"

Of course Sonia would ask. No matter what happened in the neighborhood, she needed to know about it. Despite this annoying compulsion, Sonia deserved props for organizing The Eyes of Encino-a neighborhood watch that patrolled our community in times of, well, peril. Since Dax Martin's murder, the Eyes had been walking and driving up and down our streets at night, carrying their walkie-talkies and wearing matching yellow T-s.h.i.+rts, with a big eyeball logo on the back. Sonia's idea.

The patrol leader was Ron Wilson, a Korean War vet, who lived with his wife on the next street over. Ron's military crew cut had long ago turned white and spa.r.s.e, but he and some of his fellow geezers took community safety very seriously. Even old Tony DiArco joined the patrol on his Chair-A-Go-Go scooter, oxygen tank strapped to a holder in back. They shortened his s.h.i.+ft to one hour because the scooter's batteries were unreliable.

Sonia could be pesky when she nosed around in someone else's business. As far as I could tell, though, she never meant anyone harm.

"Ed's okay. He's been through a lot, poor guy."

"Like what?"

"Well, I'll leave it up to Ed to decide how much he wants to tell other people about his business."

A shadow of hurt crossed Sonia's face.

"I can tell you his spirits are good and he has a strong support network."

Sonia reached up and adjusted the tortoisesh.e.l.l clip holding her long brown hair in place at the back of her neck. I had recently been in Sonia's house and saw her with her hair hanging loose. She looked a dozen years younger then, and the wrinkles became softer around her eyes and mouth. That was also the day I saw a photo of her with Mick Jagger in her younger, groovier days.

"So, do the cops think a homeless person is the killer?"

How much does she know about the homeless couple, and where does she get all her information, anyway?

"I wouldn't know what the police think. I did see evidence someone lived in the bushes across the river from the crime scene. I don't think it's possible they killed Dax Martin."

Sonia leaned forward in eager antic.i.p.ation. "Why do you say that?"

I explained my theory that Martin would never have gone outside the field with someone he didn't know and trust. "I just think it's more likely they witnessed the crime and fled the scene out of fear."

"Those poor people. I can't stand the thought they actually live without decent shelter. Sure, the weather's dry now in the summer, but what do they do when the weather's cold and rainy? I wish we could give them blankets or something. . . ."

Bingo! I looked at Sonia and smiled. "We can."

"Can what?"

"Give them blankets." I explained how our guild gave away quilts to hospitals, shelters, and the homeless. Maybe we could organize some kind of distribution. With Switch gone, I wanted to get into the wildlife reserve in the worst way so I could try to find out where Javier and Graciela had disappeared.

Sonia looked doubtful. "n.o.body's going to go anywhere near the place, Martha. It's way too dangerous."

"Things may have changed recently." I wasn't going to tell Sonia about Crusher putting Switch out of business. "I'll check with some friends of mine to make sure, but I think that with some help, we could go in there and do some real good."

Sonia smiled and stood a little straighter. "Well, I'm a pretty good organizer. I'll be glad to help you."

"Sure! I'll call you later."

I phoned Lucy the minute I got inside. I sat on the board of the quilt guild and my friends sat on the philanthropy committee. "Hi, Lucy. Are you still doing charity at the guild?"

"Yeah. Birdie and I still go once a month to help tie quilts. Why?"

I told her about my idea to organize an outreach in the Sepulveda Basin and to look for Javier and Graciela at the same time.

"Were you not listening yesterday? Did you not vow to change your ways? I thought you were through with your obsession to solve the murder and save your friend Ed."

"Yes, I listened. I'm no longer obsessed." I wasn't going to correct Lucy and remind her I made no such vow. "Anyway, I think I stumbled upon a real suspect."

"Get out!"

I told Lucy about Diane and her husband, Jefferson Davis, the headmaster of Beaumont School and Martin's boss. "So you see, if Davis thought his wife had an affair with Dax Martin, that cradle-robbing control freak could have killed him in a jealous rage."

"But that's pure speculation on your part."

"Doesn't matter. As I understand it, we don't need to prove he actually killed Martin. Finding proof is up to the police and the DA. We only want them to look at someone other than Ed Pappas. In the worst-case scenario, if Ed is arrested and goes to trial, we want to have enough evidence to convince a jury someone else could have done it. We need to create reasonable doubt."

"Well, good luck with that."

I ignored the sarcasm. "You remember my neighbor Sonia?"

"The one we met the other day? The former disco queen-slash-flower child?"

"She's not so bad. She came up with the idea to distribute blankets to the homeless. Does the guild have any quilts to give away?"

"At the moment, we only have about five completed, but we've been gearing up for Veterans Day in November. We've at least ten more quilt tops ready to tie."

Not all quilts were st.i.tched together. To save time, many quilts were tied together every few inches. Strong yarn or heavy thread was st.i.tched a couple of times in place through the three layers of the quilt and cut, leaving two-inch to three-inch ends. Then the ends were tied together to make a permanent suture. Using this method, one person could finish a bed-sized quilt in just a few hours.

"I'm going to ask Hilda to help. Today's Thursday. The longer we take to arrange this outreach, the less chance we have of finding Javier and Graciela. So let's aim for Sunday as the day to give away the quilts. What do you think?"

"We'll have to call an emergency meeting of the committee to tie those other tops. We could end up with fifteen finished quilts by Sunday."

"That'd be great, Lucy. Could you please get started right away? I'm off to find Hilda."

My homeless friend was fanning herself in the shade near her usual s.p.a.ce on Ventura. She wore a short-sleeved T-s.h.i.+rt, which had a picture of a hairy dog and the words I LOVE MY LABRADOODLE. The pockets of her chambray pleated maxiskirt were bulging and the hem was frayed. Hilda parked her shopping cart in front of Rafi's place, where she could see it. We sat at a table near the window and each ordered a falafel combo plate, with a.s.sorted cold salads.

She stood. "I gotta go wash my hands." This wasn't the first time I noticed that even though she didn't have access to regular facilities, Hilda worked to keep herself reasonably clean. When she returned from the restroom, she'd also washed the sweat off her face and combed her tangled hair.

She tore off a piece of pita bread and swiped it through the baba ghanouj, a puree of roasted eggplant, olive oil, lemon, and garlic. "I heard what went down the other night. You and your friends really did a number on Switch. I also hear he's cuffed to a hospital bed."

She went on to describe how, after the brawl, the homeless people banded together and forced the other thugs to leave. "It's a lot safer there now."

"I'm glad, and I'll tell you why. The weather won't be hot like this forever. In just a couple of months, it'll be cold out and the rains will come. I'd like to help those people prepare for the winter, so here's my idea. We go into the reserve on Sunday with blankets to distribute. While we're there, we can look for Javier and Graciela."

"You should go soon. I heard someone say a couple was looking for a ride to Mountain View. I don't know if it's them."

The town of Mountain View sat four hundred miles north in Silicon Valley. If Javier and Graciela left Los Angeles, we'd never find them. We needed to visit the reserve before they fled.

Hilda tilted her head. "You know, these people down there could use other things besides blankets."