Spiral, page 31
part #13 of John F Cuddy Series
”Spiro. He called me several hours ago, claiming that you told him something you hadn’t yet told your client.”
A little edge there. ”Colonel, it’s a lead I’ve been developing for a while, but it just fell into place this morning.”
”What is it?” the edge growing sharper.
Before I could answer, there was a knock at the door. Helides called out ”Yes?”
Delgis Reyes opened the door with one hand while balancing a tray with what looked like three lemonades in the other. She hesitated, maybe sensing the tension in the air.
Using a gender tone, the Skipper said, ”Delgis, please come in.”
As Reyes nodded shyly and moved toward us, I addressed Helides and Tranh. ”I’ve found out what Malinda Dujong did.”
Tranh started to speak, but the Skipper rode over him. ”Did to whom?”
I shook my head. ”No, sir, what she herself found out”
”About—Oh, thank you, Delgis,” accepting a glass from her. Tranh and I did the same. As Reyes left us, Helides tilted his mouth to the left and took a sip of his lemonade, swallowing carefully before saying to me, ”Found out about what?”
I was speaking with the Skipper, but watching Tranh. No reactions visible.
”Your granddaughter’s death,” I said.
Nicolas Helides drew in a breath. ”Then let’s have it.”
”I can’t, Colonel.”
A jump in his eyes, like I’d just slapped him across the cheek. ”I... I couldn’t have heard you right just now, Lieutenant.”
I looked up at Tranh, his eyes a little wider as he glanced down first at his employer, then stared at me.
”Sir, what I’ve found out is still just logic until I can put some proof to it, but I’ll have that evidence by tomorrow.”
”Mother Goose!” Helides tried to bring himself under control. ”Then why did you come to my son with the information this morning?”
”Because it was something he said that closed the circle.”
”The circle?”
”Of the logic, Colonel.”
Helides moved his good hand up to the functioning side of his face. ”Lieutenant, are you all right?”
”I believe so, sir.”
”I mean”—the hand went back down to his lap—”that concussion in the fight you had with... His name again?”
”Ford Walton.”
”Walton, yes. Are you sure you’re now thinking clearly?”
”Reasonably, but I’m not absolutely certain. Which is another reason I want hard evidence before I spell out anything further.”
Duy Tranh spoke for the first time. ”If you are concerned about evidence, Mr. Cuddy, perhaps you should consult with a lawyer.”
”I plan to call Justo Vega.”
”If you can’t reach him,” said Nicolas Helides in an iron voice, ”he’ll be here tonight by seven, and so should you.”
”Mr. Cuddy, wait!”
In the corridor outside the den, I turned around as Duy Tranh closed the door behind him. After six determined strides, he reached me.
”I have things to do, Mr. Tranh.”
”In addition to what you already have done to the Colonel?”
”What I’ve done to him?”
An angry flash from the black irises. ”He loved his granddaughter, for all her faults. And ever since Veronica’s death, he has lived for the moment someone will bring him her killer. But just now, in that room, you... teased him.”
”How do you mean?”
”I mean just what I said! The Colonel is a proud old man with one remaining, defining goal. And you play games with that, and with his feelings. Even in front of a house servant like Delgis.”
An awfully good deflection, but then, I’d come to believe that Duy Tranh was a very clever player. ”I’m sorry if it came off that way. Not every investigation progresses in a direct, linear—”
”I am not talking about your methods of investigation. I am talking about the spirit of an elder whom you serve in one way and I serve in others. That spirit must be nurtured, not... toyed with.”
”Mr. Tranh, take this one to the bank: I’m not toying with anyone involved in Veronica Held’s murder.”
”God, talk about the bad nickel.”
I watched Cassandra Helides come around the opposite corner at the back of the house. She wore a thong bikini bottom and not much more on top, the implants she’d mentioned standing unnaturally forthright under the faux-leopard fabric.
”Mrs. Helides.”
She stopped two feet in front of me when, given that we were outdoors and not sharing a secret, three feet would have felt more comfortable. But then, I didn’t think Helides was trying to make me feel comfortable.
Her left thumb and forefinger went up to the spaghetti strap of material running from her shoulder toward her breast. Then the fingers slid down the strap like a firefighter going down a pole. ”I figured I missed you.”
”Missed me?” I said.
”Coming here. After Spi called in a huff a couple hours ago, I waited to see you, but I had an appointment that I don’t like to miss.”
”At the tennis club.”
A saucy smile. ”At the spa, actually.” The right hand stroked her thigh as she gracefully shimmied toward the grass, then back up again, the hand following suit. ”Wax job. Go ahead, feel. Smooth as silk.”
”I’ll take your word for it.”
”Your loss.” Saucy gave way to coy. ”So, what did you find out about Very, our little dead lesbo?”
”The same thing Malinda Dujong did.”
”The fortune-teller? What could she know about it?”
”I thought you were the one who recommended her to Jeanette Held?”
”I did.” Helides changed hands and straps, but the effect was the same. ”A couple of girls I know at the club swore by her. And I even talked with Malinda a few times myself.”
”Until?”
”Until she told me things I didn’t need to hear.”
”For instance?”
The left hand came over to me, its fingers doing the same thing they had been on her bikini. ”That I should ‘close’ one chapter of my life and ‘open’ another. Love ‘people,’ not ‘things.’”
”Meaning?”
”Meaning turn my back on a fortune and instead settle for short money that wouldn’t last me five years.” Her fingers pinched a littie, playfully so far, urgently soon. ”I’ve waited this long for the lottery, though, I can wait a little longer.”
”For your husband to die.”
”For nature to take its courts.”
I stayed on the point. ”Like it did with Veronica Held?” Cassandra Helides withdrew her hand. ”Mister, you didn’t know Very. I did. And given the way she acted, I’d say her getting killed was pretty natural.” She turned and walked toward the back door, each buttock rolling independent of the other in her caricature of a showgirl. Reaching for the handle, Cassandra Helides glanced back at me. ”Nature’s a fucking dangerous place to live, you know?”
I didn’t stay to watch her climb the steps.
One of the houses down the street from the Skipper’s had the look of a family off on vacation, though if somebody lived on the Isle of Athens, it was kind of hard to see how they could improve their recreational hand by traveling somewhere else. I backed the Achieva into the driveway far enough that its snout became hidden by some large, red-blossomed bushes.
I waited only thirteen minutes this time before Cassandra Helides blew by in shades and a baseball cap, the Porsche Boxster probably hitting sixty before I could start after it.
I nearly lost her three times.
Once was thanks to a delivery truck that Helides almost sideswiped but that pulled out after the Porsche and blocked my view of it. I could hear the driver’s curses, though, even from fifty feet back and over his engine and mine. The second was when she came within a hair’s breadth of clocking a couple of kids on skateboards, other cars swerving to avoid the chain reaction she’d set in motion. The third time was another two miles on, when Helides started taking side streets in a quartering way northwest. At first I thought she’d spotted me, then I realized where we were. Chalking up her evasive tactics more to a shortcut that avoided traffic lights, I arrived at the gate of the tennis club just as her car bounced over the most distant speed bump.
A different guard asked if he could help me. This one was African-American and very polite, his nametag reading benjamin.
”I’m here to see Shirley Nole.”
”And your name, please?”
”John Cuddy.”
Benjamin dialed, waited, and spoke into the telephone. Then he turned to me. ”Ms. Nole wants you to tell me who you were here with last time.”
Cautious lady. ”Police Sergeant Lourdes Pintana.”
A nod as Benjamin went back to the receiver, and another nod as he hung up. ”You know her building, sir?”
”I do, yes.”
”I don’t, no.”
We were sitting in Nole’s apartment, and I’d just asked her if she knew of any special relationship between Cassandra Helides and Malinda Dujong.
”Shirley, how about between Cornel Radescu and Ms. Dujong?”
”No. I mean, you say ‘special,’ and maybe that’s what’s throwing me. We all know each other here, but Malinda’s so much better than Cassie, and Cornel’s so much better than Malinda that they’d never play together.”
”Actually, I was looking for any relationships beyond tennis.”
Nole seemed troubled.
I said, ”I already know about Mrs. Helides and Mr. Radescu.”
”Then what don’t you know that you think I could tell you?”
”Any arguments, or the opposite. Did Ms. Dujong ever mention Mrs. Helides to you, that sort of thing.”
”Well, no. I mean, nothing special, the way I think you mean. But maybe you should talk with Mi Soo.”
”Malinda’s tennis partner?”
”Opponent, more.” Shirley Nole relaxed just a little. ”They’re still young enough to play singles.”
”You want a drink?”
”Iced tea would be great.”
At the patio tiki bar, Mi Soo Temkin put in my order and hers, the male bartender saying, ”You have time to let me brew some fresh?”
I nodded from my stool, and Temkin said from hers, ”Fresh, Joe, thanks.”
Then she tilted the sun visor back on her forehead. Early thirties and Asian, Temkin wore a conservative swimsuit under a short robe. I wouldn’t have known how tan she was except for her bare feet, which were pale enough where anklet tennis socks must cover that they reminded me of the white paws on the Helds’ Australian shepherd.
Temkin said, ”Shirley tell me about you trying to find where Malinda is.”
”Any ideas?”
”I don’t see her for maybe three days now. I worry, because Malinda never break a match with me unless she call first.”
”Any problems between Ms. Dujong and Mr. Radescu?”
”Cornel? Why he have problem? He have life of Riley.”
I must have looked at her oddly.
Temkin smiled knowingly. ”I too young for those shows, but in Korea, I learn English from Americans at Army base. I never read Shakepeare except in my language, but television, movies, I could be on Jeopardy game.”
”So, no problems between—”
”—Malinda and Cornel? No, I think she tell me.”
”How about Ms. Dujong and Mrs. Helides?”
”Ah, different story. I don’t think they give each other Christinas presents.”
”Do you know why?”
”I ask Malinda once. She tell me, Cassandra not like the way Very—her granddaughter—behave here sometimes. Cassandra think maybe Malinda tell her bad things.”
”That Ms. Dujong told Veronica Held bad things?”
”Yes, but not about Cassandra. More like, advice for life.”
”Advice for Veronica’s life?”
A nod as our iced teas arrived in plastic beer cups. ”I think Very talk to Malinda, ask her questions.”
”About what?”
Temkin tried her drink, then reached for a sugar packet. ”Malinda never say. She is professional, not tell on her clients.”
”Veronica was a client of Ms. Dujong?”
A shrug as Mi Soo Temkin stirred in some sweetener. ”That was word Malinda use.”
When Cornel Radescu opened the door to his unit, I said, ”No need to get me a drink. I brought my own.”
He stared down at what was left of my iced tea, then back up at me. Radescu wore a dirty T-shirt and raggedy shorts. There was plaster dust in his long black hair, the kitchen behind and over his shoulder all torn up.
I said, ”Renovating?”
”What do you want?”
A familiar voice behind him said, ”Me, probably.” Radescu’s eyes closed for just a second. ”Cassie, I told you not—”
”Oh, Cornel, the bastard’s a detective. He can probably sense I’m here, just like Malinda can.”
I spoke to Radescu. ”May I come in?”
He stared at me a little more, his features so blank I really didn’t know what answer he’d give. ”Why not? It seems to be the way of my life now.”
The living room beyond the kitchen was a lot bigger than the one in Malinda Dujong’s place. I didn’t see any bedrooms, though there was a four-by-four hole in the ceiling that a man with an eight-foot vertical leap could have jumped through.
”Cornel’s putting in a spiral staircase.” Cassandra Helides had taken off her sunglasses, but was still wearing the ball cap. And, at least so far, a sleeveless mauve pullover and skin-tight white slacks. Rolling her shoulders against the back of the sofa in basically the same way she’d rolled her rump at the back of her house, she said, ”Very romantic, don’t you think?”
I took a barrel chair that contrasted nicely with the colors of the other furniture. Radescu stayed on his feet.
”Mrs. Helides, you mentioned Malinda Dujong.”
”Yeah. That’s your flavor of the day, right? I mean, when that call from Spi came in this morning, you’d have thought Nick finally got the word that those Vietdongs had won.”
Only half-correcting her, I said, ”They did win.”
A flip of her hands. ”Then whoever.”
Radescu said, ”You asked us yesterday after my match about Malinda. Now everyone around the clubhouse says she is missing.”
”So far as we can tell, nobody’s heard from her since sometime on Wednesday.”
”We?”
”The police are involved, too.”
Helides started doing leg lifts, knees locked, toes pointed toward the hole in the ceiling. ”I wouldn’t worry about the cops. They still can’t figure out who dunked our little Very, and there weren’t more than a dozen of us in the house that day.”
I waited a bit before saying, ”You don’t seem worried about Ms. Dujong, either.”
”Hey, like I told you back on the Isle, I didn’t have much use for her advice, so I’m not exactly holding my breath till you find out what happened to her.”
”What makes you think anything has?”
Dropping the leg lifts, Helides began rotating her feet while keeping the calves stationary. ”The way you keep coming back here.” The coy smile. ”Unless it’s just to see me?” Radescu said, ”Only Mr. John Cuddy comes to this unit, not yours.” Then, in my direction, ”What is it that you want, really?”
”To know who killed Veronica Held, and what’s happened to Malinda Dujong.”
”Very died five, six miles from here, and Malinda was not even at the party that day.”
”But a lot of other people were,” I said, ”and maybe one of them was worried that Ms. Dujong would find out something.”
”What?”
”The same thing I have.”
Radescu stared at me searchingly, then finally smiled. ”You’re bluffing.”
”Why would I?”
A broader smile. ”He’s bluffing, Cassie.”
From the sofa, Helides said, ”How would you know?”
”I crawl on my belly under the guns of border soldiers, I know when somebody can shoot you and when they can’t.” Radescu turned back to me. ”And you don’t have any bullets in your gun.”
”We’ll find out tomorrow.”
A cloud came over Radescu’s eyes. ”Tomorrow?”
”When I’m going to get the hard evidence to back up what I’ve already figured out.”
”It’s still a bluff,” but without the smile now.
”You’ll be the first to know.”
As I walked toward his door, I could hear Cassandra Helides say behind me, ”Hey, Malinda’s so into New Age shit, maybe she can just beam you a message from her brain.”
There was a parking lot for some charitable organization fifty yards west of the tennis club’s gate. A dozen or so people were moving boxes and clothes from car trunks and pickup trucks into a building. Most of the people were black, one white and one Latino. Two of the blacks and the Latino asked if I needed help carrying anything in for the ”drive.” I said, thanks but no, I was just waiting for someone to come back out.
And, in a way, I was.
Traffic ebbed and flowed through the club entrance, but I knew Radescu’s Checker and Cassandra Helides’s Porsche. I also figured her boyfriend would be pretty distinctive behind the wheel of any vehicle, even at my distance from the gate.
At least, that’s what I figured.
After two hours, neither showed. I told myself I’d give it another.
When my watch read 6:30, I started the Achieva and headed back toward the Isle of Athens.
The January sun was long down, so sitting outside didn’t seem a viable option. I was getting pretty tired of the den, but Nicolas Helides seemed to prefer it over his living room. And, given that latter area was where he’d last seen his granddaughter alive—despite what she’d been singing to him about, and how—I could understand the preference. What I couldn’t understand was Justo.
From his signature chair, the Skipper looked at a clock on the big desk for maybe the third time in five minutes. Seven-forty-five p.m. now, the news from it not getting any better.
