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“How did you get away, Mr. Hodges?”
“I’m sitting there, real hungry, when he comes in, hits me, leans against the wall, and crosses his arms over his chest. He says some other people saw him at the beach, tells me he’s heading out of town, that the bitch can die of old age for all he cares. He hits me again, and I start praying because I think he’s going to kill me right there. But then he says he’s going to blindfold me and drop me off in the van.
“I thank him. You know what he does? He looks at me and laughs and says something like, ‘They’re never going to find me, anyway. And you’re just a stupid paparazzo who can’t prove a thing. They might not even believe you. Nah, you’re not worth Murder One.’ He gives me this cocky salute and then swaggers out.”
“That’s it? He let you go?”
Puker nodded. “I was so grateful I would have puckered up and kissed the bastard, if he’d wanted me to. Anyway, he threw me out of the van in a parking lot and when I got my eyes free I realized I was in Santa Monica, off Delbert Avenue. I found an open coffee shop, got myself some bacon and eggs, then called 911. You know the rest.”
Detective Vasquez nodded. “You’ll find this interesting, Mr. Hodges. There are a lot of people named Ramos, but there’s no record of any Jamie Ramos, there is no van registered in that name, and there is no such business.”
“Well, what about my apartment? His damned fingerprints ought to be all over it. And all over me! Dust me down!”
“Actually, Mr. Hodges, your apartment was treated as a crime scene. We haven’t found any fingerprints that match our computer database. Except yours, of course.”
Puker raised his tearstained face to Daniel. “I guess he’s a criminal and he made up his name. That makes sense, doesn’t it? I don’t know, it’s what he told me. That was the name on the van.”
“Puker.”
His head snapped up and he looked over into the shadows on the far side of the hospital room. “Mary Lisa?”
“Why does he want to hurt me?”
“I told you, Mary Lisa, I don’t know. I don’t think his bulbs were all screwed in, you know what I mean? Most of the time I saw him, he was just pacing or eating pepperoni pizza.” He tapped the side of his head. “But he left, Mary Lisa. He said he was out of there. I think it’s over, for all of us.” He sent her a big toothy smile.
Daniel slowly nodded. He rose, looked over at Jack, eyebrow raised, but Jack shook his head. Daniel turned back to Puker. “We’ll keep someone outside your door, Mr. Hodges, in case Jamie Ramos decides to come pay you a visit. We’ll be inviting you down to the station when you’re discharged for a more formal interview. The doctor said you’ll be going home tomorrow. You’re going to be fine, Mr. Hodges.”
“Thank God. It was agony, believe me.”
“More like divine justice, you little whiner,” Mary Lisa said over her shoulder as Jack crowded her out the door. “And don’t think for a minute I believe that twaddle you made up.”
“It’s the truth, I swear it’s the truth! Oh, sweet Jesus, I hurt.”
Mary Lisa sent him a disgusted look. “I’d like to bean him with the bedpan,” Daniel heard her say before Jack closed the door behind them.
“Twaddle?” Jack cocked an eyebrow at her.
Mary Lisa opened her mouth, but Daniel came out of the room at that moment, his eyes on her face. “You’re right that it’s a just-so story. At the very least he’s holding back something.” Detective Vasquez paused a moment, streaked his fingers through his hair. “At least this Jamie Ramos isn’t a killer. And that’s a very good thing.”
“If there is a Jamie Ramos,” Mary Lisa said. “All right, if there was a guy, do you think he could have stolen the van and put some kind of logo on it? Then driven around in it?”
“Maybe, but it sounds stupid on his part, doesn’t it? Driving around something that identifiable doesn’t seem too bright, unless he only used the van a couple of times. And that starts adding up to a lot of coincidences.”
Mary Lisa suddenly smiled. “Well, finally. I’ve got a way I can help.” She turned and walked away, pulling out her cell phone as she walked.
“Where are you going?”
She said over her shoulder, “I’ve got an appointment in a few minutes, Jack. You heard Puker. It’s safe for me now.”
“Right. And I’m the Sheik of Aran.”
She gave him a cocky grin, tilted her head to the side, and said, “Hmmm. I thought that was a group of islands off the coast of Ireland.” She stepped onto the elevator, and closed the doors before Jack could get there.
Jack slammed his fists against the elevator doors. “Come back here, you twit!”
He heard whistling, growing faint.
Daniel said behind him, “I wonder who she’s calling.”
“It ain’t Ireland, that’s for sure.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
By 1940, soap operas represented 90 percent of all commercially sponsored daytime broadcast hours.
Daniel and Jack arrived at Mary Lisa’s house at exactly a quarter to six that evening, the exact time Lou Lou had made Daniel promise to be there when she’d called him two hours earlier. Jack had complained, and hadn’t stopped complaining when he stepped out of Daniel’s car.
“Why does she want us here at exactly”-he looked down at his watch-“five forty-five?”
“You heard me, ask Lou Lou. She said don’t bother trying to grill her like a cop and she started singing ‘Kiss My Earrings,’ that new funky song by some idiot I’ve never heard of that drives me nuts. I tried threatening her with handcuffs-”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll bet that really scared her. Knowing Lou Lou, I’ll bet she told you to bring them on.”
“Hmm, she did mention something about soft fur lining being nice. It’s their show tonight, Jack, so it’s their rules-at least this time.”
There were no parking places in the driveway so they’d had to park half a block away. They walked in through the open door to see a dozen people sprawled in Mary Lisa’s living room, all of them busy talking, eating Wheat Thins, cheese cubes, and deli food off huge trays, and drinking beers and soda. Jack carefully stepped over some remains of salsa and tortilla chips. Mary Lisa looked up, gri
Daniel watched Lou Lou dive for the last cheddar cheese cube, beating a tall, lanky guy he’d never seen before. He didn’t look like a movie star or a producer. Maybe he was just a regular guy, who knew?
Someone put a beer in their hands, offered them some guacamole dip and a bowl of thick greasy tortilla chips.
Lou Lou clapped her hands. “Showtime!” It was almost six o’clock on the dot. Everyone quieted, and the chewing noises grew faint as Mary Lisa clicked the remote to the local news.
The camera pa
Mary Lisa clicked off the TV and gave everyone a big fat smile and a bow. “Well, what do you think? It’s go