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“Jack makes great coffee,” Daniel said. “Why don’t you let him do it this time?”
Lou Lou shook her head. “Nope, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. See, Da
Elizabeth gave them all a sleepy smile. “I’ll go fetch Mary Lisa right now. If we’re up it’s only fair that she be up too.”
Jack waited for Elizabeth to leave the kitchen. “I was wondering why Mary Lisa wears what she wears to bed and you wear this.”
“Well, the thing is, we had a sort of slumber party last night after everyone left-what, around two a.m.? Thanks for shooing everyone out. Big problem though-a few people drifted back after you left, so we brought out the tarot cards and did readings until around four. Mary Lisa likes to sit cross-legged when she reads the tarot cards, and you can’t wear a T-shirt and sit cross-legged. So she put on her pj’s and that man’s extra-large sweatshirt you saw her in. Maybe that’s why she disappeared back to her bedroom. Anyway, some people crashed out on Mary Lisa’s back deck. Mary Lisa bought a whole bunch of aerobeds last year, so the deck was covered with bodies. I heard them talking about an hour ago. Carlo suggested the Belgian coffee shop, so off they went, after they made sure I was sleeping with Mary Lisa. You know, so she wouldn’t be alone and unprotected.” She scratched her elbow. “So was Elizabeth, once we managed to haul her off to bed. See, she was reading a Major Arcana and just fell over.”
The living room was a mess but the kitchen was spotless. “That’s the deal,” Lou Lou said. “Mary Lisa cleans up everything else if guests scrub down the kitchen.”
“Well, we don’t need any Belgian coffee shop.” Daniel whipped a bag from behind his back. “I brought donuts.”
Mary Lisa eyed that bag. “Mary Lisa can smell a donut from fifty feet.”
They heard Mary Lisa’s voice from the hallway. “Any glazed?”
The five of them were settling into the kitchen when Daniel got a call from the station. “I hate to spoil such a perfect breakfast, but I’m outta here. Puker Hodges just staggered in to the station. They took him to the hospital.”
“HE was a ski
Puker was going to be all right, a couple of bruises and a lump on the side of his head, and he was dehydrated. The hospital staff had cleaned him up, bagged his filthy clothes, and were currently dripping a liquid into his IV. Daniel sat on one side of his hospital bed, while Jack stood at the door, his arms crossed over his chest.
Daniel asked him, “It’s been three days, Mr. Hodges. Where did he take you?”
“Okay, move aside, you guys, I want to see the lame-brain here.” Mary Lisa slithered past Jack, who made a grab for her arm and missed. She stormed up to the bed, stared down at Puker, hands on her hips. “Well, you moron, I guess it’s lucky you’re still alive.”
“Mary Lisa! What-hey, I’m not a moron! I was developing some photos, minding my own business, in my own apartment-I called you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, to extort something from me. Then you tried him. Did you find out who he was? Try a little blackmail?”
“I didn’t try to blackmail anyone-”
Daniel rose. “You found out the guy’s name and you called him, demanded money, didn’t you, Puker?”
“My name’s Poker! Don’t call me Puker! You started it, Mary Lisa. Even the emergency room nurse called me Puker!”
“-So you made demands. Only the guy came to your apartment, clobbered you, only not quite hard enough, and got his hands on the photos, right, and hauled you out? He could have killed you, you idiot.”
Puker’s voice caught on a sob. “I thought he was going to kill me. He beat me up. It was awful!”
Jack said, “So why didn’t he? Kill you, that is?”
Puker shot a quick look at the big man. “I don’t know why he didn’t kill me. He hauled me out of my apartment and kept me tied up in some old, empty store. He hardly fed me anything, only let me loose when I had to pee. He hardly even talked to me, even when I tried to get him to talk about Mary Lisa.”
Mary Lisa nearly threw herself on him, but Jack caught her in time. “Let me go, Jack, I want to beat the stuffing out of this jackass. Oh dear, I just insulted an i
Puker was cowering, his head pressed back against the thin pillow. “It was only business, Mary Lisa, only business. I didn’t think he’d mind giving me a few bucks. Then I would have sent the photos to the cops and everyone would have been happy. I never dreamed he’d come to my apartment-”
“What’s his name, Puker? Do you know his name?”
“It’s Jamie Ramos. He drives a van with his damned name on the right side so that’s how I knew what it was. His phone number was on the side of the van too.”
“What was he advertising, this Jamie Ramos?” Daniel asked, leaning closer.
“He fixes motorcycles. There was a picture of a bike on the van.”
“And how did you know he was the one trying to hurt Mary Lisa?”
Puker waved his hand for the nurse to come in when she appeared in the doorway. She shot a disgusted look at Puker, passed over the cops and Mary Lisa, then did a double take. She stared and began to smile. “I know who you are. Goodness gracious, you’re Sunday Cavendish! I tape you every day and now your long-lost father is in town and-oh my, can I have your autograph?”
Puker whimpered. Daniel laughed, shook his head. “Mary Lisa, why don’t you go outside for a moment and give Nurse Ffalkes your autograph. We’ll keep Mr. Hodges company.”
“Would that be all right, Nurse Ffalkes?” Mary Lisa asked as she walked out the door beside her.
Nurse Ffalkes sent a short look back toward Puker. “Well, it’s not as if he’s going to die or anything. What did he do?”
“He’s a paparazzo who almost got me killed.”
A brief silence, then Nurse Ffalkes, her face flushed, said, “Hammer the putz.”
THIRTY-SIX
“I’m going to record this, Mr. Hodges,” Daniel said. “Is that all right with you?”
Puker continued to look pitiful and stare down at his clasped hands. He shuddered a sigh, and nodded.
Mary Lisa wanted to kick him out the hospital window, the drama queen.
“When did you realize this man, Jamie Ramos, was the one who was trying to kill Mary Lisa Beverly?”
“When I happened to be near Mary Lisa-not too close, of course, because of that restraining order-I noticed he was following her. I knew he wasn’t another freelance photographer-”
“Excuse me? Freelance what?”
Daniel frowned toward Mary Lisa, shook his head. “Yes, Mr. Hodges, please continue.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what I am. A freelance photographer. Anyway, I thought he was acting kind of weird, so I stayed with him. I figured he might be the guy who’d tried to run her down.”
“What do you mean he was acting weird?”
“He had this notebook and every time he stopped the van for a red light, he wrote in the notebook.”
“Did you ever see him make a move toward her?”
“No, but it was obvious to me he was pissed because he couldn’t get near her. She always had people around her. I saw him bang his fists on the steering wheel, and then he wrote something really fast in his notebook.”
“So you took his picture?”
“Yes, I took three snapshots.”
“Describe the man to me again, Mr. Hodges, in more detail this time.”
“He’s about five foot ten inches, maybe thirty, a little older, hard to tell. He always wore really dark sunglasses. I think he might be Hispanic, because he was all dark ski