Spiral, page 26
part #13 of John F Cuddy Series
I said, ”You reached him?”
”Yessir. Mr. Floyd thinks seeing you again might prove to be... interesting.”
Lenny gave me simple directions to the right building before raising the gate.
"You’re sort of lucky to catch me, John.” Don Floyd tilted his head behind him. ”I was about to walk over to Court One, watch an acquaintance of yours play some.”
Floyd Was dressed in another tennis outfit, and even the same Kangol cap, I thought, but the sweater vest of the day was a lemon yellow. ”I appreciate your vouching for me.”
”With Lenny at the gate? The visitor procedure’s a necessary precaution, but I remembered how you kind of stirred things up last time, so I figured you might be worth a second look.”
The wide smile that made him seem twenty years younger, but he dropped it when he looked down at my bandage. ”What happened to your arm?”
”Just a cut.” I lowered my voice. ”Actually, Don, I’m a little worried about someone else.”
”Who?”
”A resident here, Malinda Dujong.”
”Malinda? Fine woman, and a wonderful player. Won a couple of tournaments till she started spending more time on that spiritual advising she does.”
I explained about Dujong trying to reach me, then not returning my calls.
Floyd ruminated. ”Well, now that you mention it, I haven’t seen her around the courts for a few days, and that’s a mite odd for the lady, even with all her advising lately.” He looked at me squarely. ”Come on.”
We walked to one of the Mediterranean-style buildings, Floyd going up to a first-floor door and knocking. He put his ear to the wood, shook his head and knocked harder. ”Nothing?” I said.
Floyd looked at me, then walked over to the next door. His knock was answered this time, though I couldn’t see by whom.
”Why, Don,” said a very pleasant female voice through the open doorway.
”Shirley, how you doing?”
”Just fine. And you?”
”Couldn’t be better.”
”What brings you visiting?”
”Gentleman here’s been trying to get hold of your neighbor, Malinda. You seen her these last few days?”
The door opened wider, and an attractive woman in her sixties smiled out at me.
”John Cuddy,” I said.
”Shirley Nole.” Her face darkened. ”You know, Me Sue asked me that same question just this morning.”
I wasn’t sure I got the name. ”Me Sue?”
”Another player here, from Korea. She spells it ‘M-J S-O-O.’”
Floyd said, ”Did Mi Soo tell you why, Shirley?”
”I guess she had a game scheduled with Malinda for ten, but Malinda never showed up.”
Now Floyd darkened, too. ”That’s not like her, would you say?”
”No, not at all.” Nole looked from Floyd to me and back again. ”I have a key to Malinda’s door, for deliveries or watering her plants if she’s traveling.”
I said, ”Ms. Dujong ask you to water the plants recently?” A pause. ”No. No, she hasn’t.”
Don Floyd let out a breath. ”Shirley, I think maybe we should use that key of yours.”
Nole disappeared briefly, then came through her doorway, key in hand. We walked over to Dujong’s, Nole knocking and calling out ”Malinda” twice before sliding the key into the lock.
As she pushed the door open, I braced myself for that sickly sweet odor of decaying flesh, but all that greeted us was heat and stuffiness.
I touched Nole on the arm. ”Maybe I should go in first.” She turned sideways and let me pass.
I entered a foyer, kitchen to the right, living and dining areas in front of me. No sign of a struggle or even a search. In fact, everything was orderly to the point of immaculate, though the air felt as though the windows had been sealed for a year.
Behind me, Nole said, ”Malinda likes it warm in here, but not this warm.”
I walked by a closed closet door on the long wall to the left, tennis trophies dominating an adjacent entertainment center. Most of the other decorations were exotic, including some beaded, pendant talismans, I assumed from the Philippines.
I turned around. ”Can we check the bedroom?”
Nole nodded, gesturing to the left.
Just past the trophy shelf, a doorway stood open. The furnishings were very feminine. Bed made, plush comforter on top. Again, nothing out of the ordinary.
”Bathroom?”
”Master bath is that way,” said Nole.
I walked into the alcove for sink and mirror, separate shower beyond. Big enough for two people, with frosted glass doors so you couldn’t see into it.
I moved over to the handle, hearing Floyd and Nole coming up behind me. I slid open the door.
Nothing.
I leaned in to touch tile and soap, then checked the towel on a brass hatrack. All dry as a bone.
I looked at Nole. ”You said master bath?”
”Excuse me?”
‘You said ‘master bath’ before. Does that mean there’s another?”
”Oh. Yes, back this way.”
She led us to what I’d taken for a closet, but the door opened onto a separate suite with bath to the right and bedroom to the left. The bed was stripped, the bathroom feeling sterile.
I asked, ”Ms. Dujong doesn’t use this part?”
Floyd said, ”These two-bedroom units were designed so that owners could rent out a section during our high season.”
”Does she do that?”
”Not for a while,” said Nole. ”At least, I think I’d have noticed.”
The feeling in the air backed her up.
Don Floyd stared at me. ”So, John, what do you think?” I moved past them and into the living room. ”Ms. Nole-”
”Oh, Shirley, please.”
”Shirley, where are these plants you water?”
”Out there, on the porch.”
I crossed the living room to draperies on a pull cord. I drew them open. Beyond the sliding glass door, a six-by-twelve, screened porch contained eight or ten large plants in colorful pots.
Unfortunately, the pots were a lot more colorful than the plants.
”Oh, no,” said Nole. ”They’re dying.”
Several looked okay, but most were drooping or worse. As Nole went toward the kitchen, I said, ”Shirley, how long would it take for these to get like this?”
Over the sound of running water, she said, ”The southern exposure really bakes plants, though it also helps them grow faster. Malinda’s always had me come in every morning.” I’d seen Dujong late on the afternoon before, at Spi Held’s house. ”Could they get this way within twenty-four hours?”
”Maybe, but I don’t know for sure.”
Floyd said quiedy, ”I don’t like what I’m feeling, John.”
I nodded.
Nole came out with a plastic can, sticking its snout under leaves and sprouts. ”But I can tell you that Malinda would never have left these long enough for them to get so parched without asking me to tend them.”
”Anybody else she might have contacted?”
”Mi Soo, but like I said, she hadn’t heard from Malinda either.”
I could see an answering machine on a lower shelf of the entertainment center. ”Maybe we could listen to Ms. Dujong’s tape messages.”
Floyd and Nole exchanged troubled glances. She said, ”Her telephone calls, you mean?”
”Yes.”
Floyd shook his head. ”That’d feel mighty like intruding on Malinda’s privacy.”
Shirley Nole nodded, and I guessed I couldn’t blame either of them.
Don Floyd said, ”What else do you think we should do, John?”
Only one more thing. ”What kind of car does Ms. Dujong drive?”
The three of us walked separately over the entire parking area, but nobody could find Dujong’s yellow Toyota Celica. When we met back at her building, I told Floyd and Nole that I’d call the police, but not to expect much of a response, given the absence of evidence that anything suspicious had happened to her. As they thanked me for my concern, there was a loud cheer and some sustained applause from near the clubhouse.
Floyd looked in that direction. ”Well, somebody seems to have won their match.”
I said, ”The one with Cornel Radescu in it?”
”Timing’s about right.”
”I’d like to talk to him again.”
Don Floyd smiled. ”And I’d like to see that, but I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check. My bride and I scheduled an early supper.” He stuck out his hand. ”You need anything, John, you call me, hear?”
I thanked him and Shirley Nole both, then started walking toward the clubhouse.
There were about twenty people in the patio area between the pool and the tiki bar, but I spotted her right away. She stood behind him at one of the umbrellaed tables, kneading his neck muscles the way I’d seen her do once before. Though it’d been for her husband then.
From ten feet away, I said, ”Mrs. Helides.”
Both of them looked up at me. Cornel Radescu, shirt-less, opened his mouth, but his masseuse beat him to the punch.
”We ought to charge you for a membership. You’re here as much as I am.”
”I doubt it.”
There was a chair across from Radescu, and I sank into it.
From under his dark brow, he looked at my bandaged arm but just said, ”Why have you come back to this place?”
”Couple of reasons. Let’s start with Malinda Dujong.”
”Malinda?” said Helides.
”Yes. Either of you seen her recently?”
Radescu looked confused, Helides just vacant.
He gestured toward Dujong’s building. ”She lives over there, on the ground—”
”We’ve checked. No sign of her, and some indications that she hasn’t been in her unit for a while.”
Radescu put on a wary expression. ”If already you know this, why do you ask us?”
”Originally I thought the killing of Veronica Held was an isolated incident. Now I’m not so sure.”
Helides stopped the massage and came out from behind Radescu. ”Malinda was just giving Jeanette ‘spiritual guidance’ or something.”
”Partly because of Veronica’s death.”
”Yes,” said Radescu. ”But Malinda was not even there at the party that day.”
”So she told me.” I looked up at Helides. ”Do you know why?”
”Why what?” she said.
”Why Ms. Dujong wasn’t at your husband’s house.” Helides nearly stamped her foot. ”It’s my house, too, Mister.”
”But do you—”
”No!” barked Helides.
I noticed six or seven people turn to stare at us. ”Ms. Dujong told me she’d received a call to meet someone, supposedly referred to her by Jeanette Held.”
Radescu said, ”What difference does it make, the reason Malinda was not at the party?”
”It was a woman’s voice on the phone.”
”Okay,” said Helides. ”Maybe I’m stupid, but I don’t get what you’re talking about.”
I waited a beat. ”Did you make that call?”
”Me?”
”Yes.”
Fists to hips now. ”Why would I need a ‘spiritual advisor’?”
”Wait a minute,” said Radescu, coming forward in the chair, muscles bunching. ”Are you saying somebody kept Malinda from the party on purpose, and now has done something to her?”
”Pretty good summary.”
Helides looked to him, then back at me, the expression on her face like a kid accused of stealing a piece of somebody else’s candy. ”Well, I sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with it. Why would I?”
Time to test the waters. ”Sundy Moran.”
They exchanged looks again, but it was back to confused and vacant, respectively.
”What is this, a name?” said Radescu.
”Of a young woman killed within hours of Veronica Held.”
Helides said, ”Never heard of her.”
Radescu worried his hands atop the patio table. ”Why do you tell us about this thing?”
”Sundy Moran was probably the daughter of Tommy O’Dell.”
The tennis pro shook his head, now more exasperated than confused. ”Another name I do not know about, or care about.”
Helides glanced at him. ”He was Spi’s drummer.” Radescu said, ”What?”
”In the original band.” She came back to me. ”He wasted himself with drugs.”
Her certainty stopped me. ”I thought that was long before you knew even the Colonel?”
”It was, but I’ve heard the guys talk about him. Only, what the fuck does somebody dead twenty years have to do with Very or this Moran girl?”
”Actually I was hoping you two. could help me with that.” Helides glared at me as Radescu drew back in his chair, arms folding across his bare chest.
She said, ”What’s that supposed to mean?”
”You used to drive Veronica here for tennis lessons with her”—I glanced at Radescu—”teacher, right?”
Now Helides crossed her arms, too. ”So?”
”So then you stopped, and Delgis Reyes had to do it. I’m wondering why?”
”Because that’s the little wetback’s job.”
I bored through the slur. ”But there must be a reason why you decided to stop bringing her to see your mutual instructor.”
”Okay, mister.” Helides raised her voice again, and other conversations around us halted abrupdy. ”You think Cornel was hitting on our poor little Very, right?”
Radescu shuddered. ”Cassie, please don’t—”
”Well,” she continued, a few decibels louder. ”Let me tell you, that wasn’t it.”
I said, ”Veronica was hitting on him.”
Helides actually smiled, but cruelly. ”No, mister know-it-all.” Then she leaned down, nearly hissing out her words. ”The little bitch started hitting on me.”
I didn’t say anything.
”That’s right.” Helides straightened up again. ”I was driving her here one day for a lesson with Cornel, and Very moves her hand over to my thigh. Then she starts walking her fingers toward the secret garden.”
I could hear people at the tables around us speaking in low tones as they pushed back their chairs. ”Mrs. Helides—”
”No fair, mister. You asked for it, now you’re gonna hear it The little bitch says, ‘If that feels good, you want to do it to me?’ And I slap her hand away, tell her what an incredible cunt she is, and she clouts me—me—across the face. Well, I’m halfway to punching her lights out when I decided instead to do a U-ey and take her back to granddaddy, let him know what his little angel tried on step-grandmummy.”
”You told the Colonel that Veronica—”
”No, of course not. It would’ve fucking killed the poor old guy.” Cassandra Helides rocked her head side to side like a clown making a discovery in center ring at the circus. ”But that, mister, is how come I stopped driving precious little Very to her tennis lessons.”
Radescu said, ”Cassie, I do not think we should say anything more to this man, no matter what your husband told you about cooperation.”
”Fine,” replied Helides quickly. ”I’m even sick of looking at him.”
I got up from my chair. ”The police may be by about Malinda Dujong. I hope you have a better story for them.”
”We don’t need any story,” said Radescu, standing also. ”And you better remember the last thing I told you on the tennis court.”
His threat about nobody taking away what he’d worked so hard to acquire. ”Actually, that reminds me. Who won today’s match?”
Cassandra Helides moved toward Radescu. ”Cornel, six-three, six-one.” She slipped her arm around his, like links in a chain. ”And to the victor belongs the spoiled.”
I almost corrected her before realizing she was right.
Outside the gate of the tennis club, I called the direct cellular number on Sergeant Lourdes Pintana’s business card. When her voice mail kicked in anyway, I left a message about Malinda Dujong trying to reach me and what I’d seen with Don Floyd and Shirley Nole in the apartment. After clicking off, I tried to think of someone else to see before going to the Skipper’s house and telling him—and possibly Justo Vega—about Sundy Moran.
Just one name came to mind. Directory assistance gave me the telephone number, but a man answering told me the woman I wanted was home sick.
This time I drove in slowly enough that the dust cloud stayed below window level on the Cavalier. I brought it to a stop near the man in the straw hat and overalls, lighting his pipe. When I opened my door, he spat in the other direction before saying, ”Information booth’s still open, but this late in the day, I’m on overtime rates.”
I took a five from my wallet anyway. ”As a repeat customer, I’m entitied to a discount.”
He looked at the bill disdainfully, then reached out and took it. ”Reckon I’ll have to charge the next one double.”
”Her trailer?” I said.
He used the stem of his pipe as a pointer. ”Four down on the right, puke-green siding.”
”Thanks.”
”Don’t be too hasty.”
I got back in the car and drove. My guide was dead-on about the color of Donna Moran’s trailer. I had thoughts about whether Ford Walton might be in there as well, but only one vehicle slouched in front of it, and I couldn’t remember if the multiprimered Dodge was one of the many clunkers I’d seen outside Billy’s the day before.
Cement blocks created a stoop leading to an aluminum door. I knocked on it.
”Go away,” came more through an open window than from behind the door, but it was her voice.
”John Cuddy, Ms. Moran. Yesterday at Billy’s?”
Now the sound of bedsprings and heaving weight. I could hear someone pad to the door, then had to step down as it swung open at me.
”Jesus,” I said.
Donna Moran looked out through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. The closed eye and both cheeks were that purplish yellow of a recent beating.
She coughed. ”Got you to thank for this.”
”Luke and Hack?”
