Remember Me, Irene

I nodded.

“I admired that set of plans,” Keene said. “I told him so. You know what he said? ‘I had to do something I’d be proud of.’ I knew exactly what he meant. Exactly. So I put my heart and soul into building it.”

I considered what he had said. “You’re talking to me now. Maybe your reflection was wrong.”

He smiled a little. “I wouldn’t bet on it. I’m doing this in a pretty chickenshit fashion.”

We were quiet again.

“I think Lucas was murdered,” I said.

“Oh yeah?” He shifted a little.

“You do, too, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know how they did it-I didn’t even like to think it could be murder at first-but it was just too convenient, you know? And after the lady at the shelter got hurt, I said to myself, ‘Keene, someone is shutting people up.’”

“It’s why you’re talking to me.”

“Yes. Maybe whoever did this to Lucas and the shelter lady will come after me and Corbin. Ben killed himself, but Corbin and I, we aren’t the type for that. Not so obliging. Still, no one’s been arrested yet, so I’m not feeling so safe.”

I had no argument to give him. “What is it you think I can do for you?”

“If something happens to me,” he said, “I don’t want them to get away with it. I don’t want my kids to find out what I’ve done, but I’d rather have that than just go quietly, if you know what I mean. I go, this whole thing is blown wide open.”

I looked at him sharply. “You’re pla

He nodded.

“And you plan to let them know that?”

“Not unless absolutely necessary. Not unless they try something with me.”

“Christ, Keene, do you think they’d have any more trouble getting rid of me than they would you?”

“None, and I’m sorry if it’s put you in danger.”

“Sorry!”

“Yes, sorry! But I couldn’t think of any other way to work it.”

“You’re putting me in the line of fire!”

“You were in it anyway. All those phone calls you’ve been making? You’ve stirred up the hornets’ nest all on your own. Do you believe for one moment that your car window was broken by a thief?”

I was silent.

“No, missy, you’ve got something that worries somebody.” He slanted a sly look toward my hands. “I’ll bet it’s in one of those envelopes.”

I clutched them tighter.

“I’m not your thief,” he said. “You’ve figured that out by now.”

“Why don’t you get a lawyer and go to the cops? Try to get immunity.”

“Immunity means I still have to open up a can of worms. A lot of people would be hurt-and not just my kids. Corbin would be hurt. His kid would be hurt. So would investors, officials, my workers, lots of people.”

“You have a big goddamned ego, you know that?”

He smiled. “I do.”

I looked up at the cherubs, smiling down at us. The last of the i

If I wanted to stay healthy, I had to find a way to open up that can of worms he worried over-without breaking my promise to keep what he told me off the record. The “cleanup man”-as I was begi

I could think of only two ways of exposing it. One would be to find the original data, have a statistics expert look at it, and hope the expert could find the holes in Selman’s study.

The other would be faster-which appealed to my desire to live. I could find Lucas’s hidden papers and pray that they would be enough to get Selman and his buddies in trouble. Maybe the hidden papers would indicate which figures were changed. That in turn might show which numbers to question in the study on file with the Redevelopment Agency. I might still need a statistics expert, but it would take less time.

Time. I looked at the long windows across from the staircase. There were still a few hours of light left.

“I have a request,” I said.

He looked over to me.

“I want to look around in the Angelus for a while.”

“By yourself?”

No, not by myself. But I didn’t want him with me while I looked for Lucas’s papers. “I guess so,” I said.

He was about to answer when my pager went off, startling both of us.

“Sorry,” I said, “I thought it was set to just vibrate.” Lydia’s number was on the display. “Could I use your cell phone?”

“Sure, let’s go out to the car.”

I locked up behind us, not knowing if the phone call would mean I’d have to leave. If not, I’d ask Frank to pick me up at the Angelus. If I had to go back to the office, it was probably because Wrigley had figured out who passed out his pager number.

“Lydia? It’s Irene. I need to make it quick. I’m on someone else’s cellular phone.”

“I’ll transfer you down to Geoff then. Your friend Lisa is here.”

“Lisa Selman?”

“We told her you weren’t in, but she seems pretty upset, so I thought I’d call you, let you talk to her.”

“Okay, transfer me.”

Keene had heard me say Lisa’s name. “Don’t tell her I’m with you!” he said, panicked, looking around. “I need to get out of here.”

Geoff came on the line, handed me over to Lisa.

“Irene?” She sounded as if she were on the verge of tears.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to talk to you. About Roberta. I was sorting through some boxes in my old attic room at my father’s house. I found some papers. I-I think they have something to do with Lucas and Roberta. I thought-this is such a mess! I think Andre’s-I can’t even say it. I need your help. I borrowed Jerry’s car. Can I meet you somewhere?”

“I can be back at the paper in a few minutes,” I said.

“I don’t want her to see my car!” Keene was whispering furiously. “She might tell her father!”

At the same time, Lisa was saying, “No, no. We can’t talk here. Not in front of other people.”

I sighed. Keene and Lisa waited.

“Do you know where the Angelus Hotel is?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“I need to look around there. I just got a set of keys from Keene Dage’s kids.” The lies started coming easier. “I told them I was doing a story about the restoration of historical buildings. Give me about twenty minutes to get there,” I said, and hoped she didn’t hear Keene’s sigh of relief.

35

I BORROWED KEENE’S PHONE to make one more call, and left a message for Frank saying I’d get a ride home from Lisa.

Keene started to get into his car, but went back to the trunk. He pulled out a big flashlight. “Take this. We don’t have the power on in there yet, and once you’re off the first floor, it gets dark…but I guess you know that.”

“Thanks, Keene.”

“You sure you’ll be okay waiting here?”

I nodded. “I’ll lock myself inside the gate.”

He stood there, looking at his own keys. “Anything else you need?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Yeah. Well, thanks.” He gave a little smile. “I mean, confession really is good for the soul. I don’t feel like mine is spick-and-span or anything, but it’s a weight off, you know? I’ve never told anyone about it before.”

“Thanks for trusting me.”

He glanced up at the hotel. “I’ll ask my sad angels to watch over you, Irene.”

“Hope they do a better job for me than they did for you.”

“Me, too.” His face became serious. “I really wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Don’t get an attack of conscience over it or anything, Keene.”

He laughed. “Piss and vinegar. That’s what I like about you.”

He waved and drove off.

I LOCKED THE GATE and walked across the grounds to the front steps. While I waited, I went back to Ben’s calendar. The depression, or whatever it was that kept him from making entries, lasted a little over three weeks. There was nothing written from August 9 until then. I looked again at the note from Jeff McCutchen. Six numbers. What did they mean?