Bones

CHAPTER 34

Alma Reynolds bounced on my couch and laughed. “You’ve actually got one. If leather could talk.”

I placed the attaché case on the floor between us.

“What’s that,” she said, “the altar of eternal truth? I’m supposed to see it and buckle?”

I moved the case aside.

“No matter what you think, Sil was a man of principle. He may have taken the money but he didn’t spend it.”

“The police went over his apartment carefully. Where’d you find it?”

“What’s the difference?”

“He was murdered. Everything matters.”

“Can’t see how that does but fine, in his car, okay? In the trunk, right out in the open. Which is my point: It was nothing he was ashamed of. There’s no big mystery here. People sent in minor cash donations and rather than go to the bank all the time, Sil saved them up so he could deposit them in the marsh account.”

“The small stuff.”

“So you actually listen.”

I said, “He told you about the money?”

“No, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Sil controlled the account.”

“Sil created the account. He was Save the Marsh, I already explained that to you. Every penny went to maintenance.”

“Except for his salary.”

“He never gave himself a raise, we’re not exactly talking rampant materialism. Now that I’ve seen how you live, I understand why you can’t seem to get that. This place, all the Sunday supplement contempo California living. I know what this neighborhood costs, money’s your thing, but it wasn’t Sil’s. The fact that he left the case right out in the open is proof positive there’s nothing corrupt about the money.”

“How much is in there?”

“Fifteen thousand. Yes, I counted it. Who wouldn’t?”

“Including the pearl?”

She flushed. “Keep the damn pearl, it didn’t fit me anyway and it’s obviously jammed a burr up your butt. Hell, give it to your wife, if you have one.”

Thankful Robin worked in a separate building, I said, “The pearl’s yours, why shouldn’t it be?”

“Aw, gee, how tweet of you. Forget it. I’m washing my hands of the whole damn mess. Sil was right, filthy lucre does stain permanently.”

I said, “The money could very well be yours, too, unless he left a will bequeathing it to someone else.”

“Well, he didn’t,” she said. “Neither of us had wills. We made a joint decision to avoid pathetic attempts to control things from the grave.”

“Then I’d say it’s yours. You were his significant other.”

“Are you dense or just being manipulative? I don’t want it-and don’t try to tell me the cops won’t try to confiscate it. Isn’t that part of the racket? The entire so-called-war-on-drugs is nothing more than a revenue scheme.”

“The cops I work with are out to solve murders. And Detective Sturgis’s skin tones don’t go with the pearl.”

“Oh, aren’t you charming,” she said. “Probably had a soft upbringing, always got your way because you were oh so cute. This is the last time I’m going to say it: I don’t want the money and I don’t want the damn pearl. Hell if I know what got into me in the first place. So stop harassing me-tracing me to that damn jewelry store, unbelievable. You’re like one of those Homeland Security scammers.”

“ Alma,” I said, “I’m just trying to figure out what happened at the marsh.”

“Tracing me. That crack about my mother-you actually found that jewelry store?”

“Lots of motivation, Alma.”

“Well, bully for you-if you must know, I didn’t go in there intending to buy anything expensive. Just a trinket, something to remind me of Sil. Why the hell not? I was grieving.” She sniffed. “He’s so damn gone … you try filling hollow hours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Like hell you are. You’re toying with me right now.”

“What I’m trying to do is figure out who murdered the man you loved. And a whole bunch of other people.”

“Who says it’s the same person? And even if it is, talking about the money isn’t going to accomplish anything. It’s what I said, small donations.”

“Fifteen thousand worth,” I said.

“It adds up.” Less confidence in her voice.

“Are the bills of different denominations?”

No answer.

“It’s easy enough to check.”

“Twenties, okay?” she said. “It’s all in twenties.”

“Kind of a coincidence.”

“So at some point Sil changed it into twenties… to make the count easier.”

“If he went to the bank to change bills, why not simply deposit the money?”

She shot to her feet. “My hands are clean. Forget all that Catholic crap, I was never into self-flagellation.”

I said, “Sil was seen taking an envelope from a man.”

“What?”

“In the parking lot behind his office.”

“Seen by who?”

“A witness.”

“Who?”

“I can’t say.”

She smirked. “One of those ‘anonymous sources’? Like the government always happens to find?”

“A witness with no motive to lie.”

“So you say.”

“It may not have been ominous, but it happened, Alma.”

“Someone delivered a donation in person. Big deal.”

I described the man with the blond hair and the reconstructed face.

She said, “Sounds like your typical L.A. guy.”

“You have no idea who he is.”

“Why would I? Good-bye, and don’t spend it all in one place.”

I said, “One more thing.”

“With you people there’s always one more thing.”

“Us people as in…”

“Representatives of the state.”

I said, “Everything’s political.”

“You’d better believe it.”

“Does that include the knife in Sil’s gut?”

Her arms turned rigid. “Oh, you’re a beaut. Coming across all sensitive but there’s a cruel streak you bring out at will.”

“I’m trying to get to the truth. I thought we might share that goal.”

“Truth is bullshit. Truth changes with context.”

“Context is exactly what I’m looking for, Alma. If you want to canonize Sil, fine. But if you can open your mind long enough to consider an alternative, we might actually find out who murdered him.”

If she’d walked out, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

She stood there. “What alternative?”

“Consider the possibility that Sil was paid off. Nothing illegal, maybe just to bend the rules. I think whoever paid him also lured him-someone who knew the marsh and believed Sil had to be silenced.”

“Rich bastards,” she said. “Everything is political.”

“Any rich bastards in particular?”

“How about those movie crooks for a start? Money corrupts and they have obscene amounts of money. They funded STM but I’ll bet they’ve never stopped lusting for the land. Sil took their money but he despised them.”

“Would Sil have gone out in the middle of the night for one of their lackeys?”

Silence.

I said, “Who did he trust, Alma?”

“No one. Sil wasn’t a trusting person. I’m the only one he confided in and even then, he could be guarded.”

“About what?”

“He was moody, could close up like a turtle, just be unreachable. But that doesn’t mean he sold out. That damn bunch of mud was everything to him. Besides, what would anyone pay him off for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, neither do I. Good-bye.”

I popped the case, took out the jewel box, pressed it in her hand.

She shook her head violently but didn’t push it away.

“Depending on how things shake out, I may be able to get you the money, as well.”

“I don’t wa-why the hell are you doing this? Who the hell are you?”

“Just another guy with a soft upbringing.”

She studied me. “If I was wrong about that, sorry, but it doesn’t change facts on the ground. You’re a government agent.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I’ve been pressuring you.”

“Yes, you have.” Her hand closed around the box. “It’s been hell, I need to get through it.”

As I walked her out, she studied each room we passed. When we got to the VW, she said, “The only possible thing Sil could’ve been… no, that doesn’t make sense. That wouldn’t be worth fifteen thousand stinking dollars.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“There’s another way into the marsh. Clear on the opposite end of the official entry, on the west side. It was intended as the original entry, but too many plants grew there and Sil insisted it not be touched. If it was up to him, the entire place would be off limits to visitors.”

“Where on the west side?”

“Dead center, it’s overgrown, impossible to see from the street, but if you push your way through, there’s a gate. Sil kept it padlocked. He liked to go there-his secret place. Sometimes he took me there.” Blushing. “It’s beautiful, huge willows, high reeds, little brackish sub-ponds where tadpoles and frogs colonize. Lots of birds because it’s closer to the ocean.”

“How often did Sil go there?”

“I don’t know. He only took me three, four times, always at night. We’d spread a blanket, be looking up at the stars, and he’d say, ‘This is a billion-dollar view, if people only knew.’ But that was rhetoric. Who’d pay fifteen thousand for a picnic spot? And why would that put Sil in danger?” She shook her head. “You’re chasing your tail.”

“Thanks, anyway.”

“For letting my mind run wild?”

“It’s called creativity,” I said. “Lord knows, we could use more.”