Ginny Page 7

  “Speaking.”

  “Richard here.”

  “Richard?”

  “The apartment manager.”

  “May I call you Dick?” Ginny smiled and winked at Molly.

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  “I bet you have, Dick, now what can I do for you?”

  “I was just checking the number.”

  “So? Listen, I’m busy now, we’ll talk later … If you hear from George, call me, OK?”

  “Sure sweetheart,” he said and hung up.

  The smiling Ginny pushed back in her seat and sighed.

  “You’re some kind of babe, Ginny,” Molly said.

  Ginny gave her a quizzical look, admiring her friend’s profile. “You know, if I were built like you, I’d get any man.”

  Molly took a deep breath, extended her chest and said, “If you had these boobs, you’d get every man.”

  Both laughed, as the rain began to fall again.

  They arrived back on campus minutes later.

  “Who are you calling now, Ginny?” Molly asked.

  “I’m sending that pizza I promised Charlie. Pull over and park, I think I’m gonna take a short snooze, got to recharge my batteries, ha,” Ginny said.

  “You should call Charlie and set up an appointment with Dunford’s boss.”

  “Later! It’s getting late, maybe tomorrow,” Ginny said, slumping down on the seat.

  “How long did I sleep?” Ginny asked.

  “About an hour, are you feeling better?”

  “Molly, I’m still tired, but the investigation must go on. This car isn’t the most comfortable place.”

  “You’re lucky that I let you sleep in my car at all. Hey, the weather is clearing, let’s get going,” Molly suggested.

  Molly moved the big Buick away from the curb. “It’s a large campus. Where do you want to start?”

  “Head for the northwest corner, up on the hill,” Ginny ordered, pulling a site map from her bag.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “My attorney gave it to me when I was hired to look into this matter.”

  They came to a steep grade. The rain began again, and the windshield wipers were having trouble keeping up as they moved to the top.

  “Molly, I don’t know why you don’t dump this heap and get something more modern.”

  “Watch your mouth, this is a classic!”

  “No need to get all mad, Molly, I’m just kidding around.”

  The road leveled off for another hundred yards; it began to rise again. This time the wipers sputtered and stopped, making it almost impossible to navigate the winding road.

  “Let’s stop here,” Molly said, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I should replace that vacuum hose like the mechanic suggested.”

  “This inclement weather will never let up.”

  “We’ll wait a while; I have more questions,” Molly said.

  “Shoot.”

  “Father Joseph, what’s with him?”

  “What do you want to know?” Ginny smiled, giving her most effective Cheshire Cat look.

  “Ginny.”

  “We’re just friends, Molly, I already told you that.”

  “Amuse me.”

  “You mustn’t reveal this to anyone, including Jacob,” Ginny said, “Promise.”

  “Promise,” Molly said. “Why are the police holding him?’

  “He’s innocent, I tell you. I have proof.”

  “Start from the beginning: it looks like it’s going to pour for hours and I’m a good listener,” Molly said.

  “OK, we met about two years ago when I was going through one of my dry spells. Well, maybe that’s not one hundred percent true. That’s when we got it on, so to speak.

  “Now before you get all puritan on me, hear me out. We worked together on a charity drive, got along fine and had several innocent lunch dates. He’s a psychology professor at the college. He’s interesting and oh so handsome. You know Molly, how I get when I’m with a good-looking guy. Well, he found me fascinating, but he, being a priest and all, I could not make a move on him, I thought, till I got into one of my moods.”

  “Moods?”

  “Yes, I hadn’t been laid in over a month, was feeling blue and sorry for myself, so I called him, crying.”

  “Crying? I don’t believe it,” Molly quipped.

  “You think I’m cold-hearted, but I’m not. Sometimes my feminine side comes out.”

  “Do tell,” Molly mocked.

  “If you’re not careful, I’ll stop here,” Ginny warned.

  “All right, I’ll be good. Please continue.”

  “Joe came over; he thought I was going to end it all … my life … you know. Said I sounded awful on the phone and he was worried. He held me close, trying to comfort me and before long, we were lying naked in bed covered with perspiration! Go figure,” Ginny sighed.

  “I’ve heard enough,” Molly said.

  “Good,” Ginny said, “Because you aren’t a saint, ha, ha, Miss Goodie Two-Shoes.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Molly asked.

  “You screwed a rabbi!” Ginny mocked.

  “Cantor.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind,” Molly said. “Besides, that was long ago.”

  “Thirty years, right?” Ginny asked.

  “It was thirty-nine years ago,” Molly said.

  “You sure started young.” Ginny smiled.

  “Enough.”

  “Let’s get back to business, OK?” Ginny asked.

  “Good. Then why are the police holding Father Joseph?” Molly asked.

  “He was the last person seen with Sister Mary Agnes the day after Thanksgiving. It was the day she went missing, and he gave no alibi,” Ginny answered.

  “You say you have proof of his innocence?”

  “I know where he was that night,” Ginny said.

  “And?”

  “As it turns out, the good priest has a regular girlfriend.”

  “And that girlfriend is you, right?” Molly asked.

  “Good guess, but no. She’s a Mrs. John Smith, no kidding. Can you believe that?”

  Molly covered her mouth. “Ginny, I’m flabbergasted; anyway, you’re incorrigible.”

  “You say that because it’s true, but I have proof. That’s why I’m such a good detective, sweetie.”

  “Very good, ha,” Molly laughed.

  “After our—me and Joe’s—romp, he ignored me. Therefore, I spied on him and caught him red-handed with another bimbo. They were meeting twice a month at a cheap motel on Sunset, usually on Friday nights. They meet on the first and third Fridays to be exact. These rendezvous had been going on ever since our little fling.”

  “So, you saw them together on that Friday in question?” Molly asked.

  “No, I didn’t, but he has an alibi and won’t implicate Mrs. Smith. He’s too much of a gentleman for that.”

  “How about the nun, what’s his relationship with her?” Molly raised her eyebrows.

  “Don’t change the subject, OK …” Ginny paused. “She’s a straight arrow. Sweet, sincere, she wouldn’t get involved with any man, let alone a priest.”

  “Talk about a tangled web, Ginny,” Molly mused.

  “If I had time, I might have been able to dig up more dirt on Joe, but I got my scoop with just one phone call to the illustrious Mrs. Smith and conned her, through my trickery, to confess.”

  “I can only guess,” Molly said with a chuckle.

  “You’ll have to guess, because I won’t give up my secrets, ha. Besides, he’ll get his, I’ll make sure of that,” Ginny said.

  “Knowing you Ginny, I’m sure he will. Look, the rain is letting up a little. Let’s get back to work,” Molly said, starting the engine. She moved the Buick up the hill toward the outbuildings.

  “Pull over here, Molly. This is as good as any place to start
.”

  “Should we stay together?” Molly asked.

  “I’m the one carrying, packing heat, so stick with me. You have an umbrella?”

  “Yes, right here,” Molly, said, pulling it from under her seat.

  “Let’s do it.”

  “OK,” Molly said, as she moved around the car to Ginny, holding up the umbrella. They walked around the first building with caution, crowded together under the scant protection.

  “There has to be a better way,” Ginny joked, moving from beneath the temporary shelter. She stepped in front of Molly while holding the site map above her head for protection.

  “This light mist is going to give you a bad hair day, Ginny.”

  “Follow me,” she ordered, ignoring the comment, while leading Molly to the back of the building.

  “No vent pipes here,” Molly observed.

  “Let’s try that shed,” Ginny said, pointing, as they began the walk up a ten-foot muddy path.

  As Ginny approached the shed, she noticed it’s size. It was nearly twenty feet high, made with corrugated metal siding covered with a patina of rust that must have built up over decades. On the door was a much newer metal fastening strap secured by a heavy-gauge padlock.

  “How are we going to open it, Ginny?”

  “I left my lockpick kit in my car.”

  “What should we do?” Molly asked.

  They made their way around the right side of the shack. “We can’t get by here. The brush is too thick, but I think I see an air vent pipe through the bushes,” Ginny said.

  “We’ll go this way.” Molly said, turned left with Ginny behind her. They got to the rear of the small building when it hit them, the putrid smell of decaying flesh.

  “Ginny, I could go an entire lifetime without experiencing this again,” Molly said, covering her nose and mouth from the stench.

  “Molly, you’ve been around, I see,” Ginny choked, pushing Molly back in the direction they came from.

  The three sat at Molly’s kitchen table, sipping a strong brew, when Jacob spoke, “You gals did a fine job last week.”

  “Thank you, Jacob, but it was Ginny, L.A.’s finest detective, that solved the case,” Molly said.

  “You’re both being too modest,” Jacob grinned.

  “The good news is that Dunford did us a favor by hanging himself before he could harm anyone else,” Ginny said.

  “We’ll probably never know his true motive,” Molly added.

  “Oh, but I do,” Ginny said with confidence.

  “So?” Molly asked.

  “When Dunford’s sister came to collect his remains, I interviewed her.”

  “And …”

  “To make a long story short, Dunford hated nuns,” Ginny continued. “I understood, from his sister, that he had a run-in, or several, with a nun with by same name, Sister Mary Agnes, when he was attending Sunday school, years ago. She slapped him around in front of the class too many times. So, he skipped out, got caught by none other than Sister Mary Agnes and was given a harsh hand-thrashing with a wooden ruler.”

  “My goodness,” Molly said. “I’m glad I’m not Catholic.”

  “Good for you, now back to the story. Seems thirteen-year-old Dunford … very big for his age, according to his sister; he ran off with a carnival shortly after his last encounter with the good nun. The family didn’t hear from him until years later when he assaulted a nun in Arizona. By the way, her name was also Sister Mary Agnes.”

  “Nice guy,” Jacob said.

  “A creep, that’s for sure,” Ginny said. “Every nun with the name Mary Agnes was a potential target for him.”

  “What’s going to happen to the priest, Father Joseph?” Jacob asked.

  “He’s going before the Cardinal this week. He’ll be lucky to keep his priesthood, let alone his teaching job,” Ginny said with a squeal.

  “You didn’t?” Molly asked.

  “I sent Joe’s full dossier to the Cardinal the day we saw Dunford swinging from the ceiling.”

  “Father Joseph crossed the wrong broad,” Jacob laughed.

  “At least, you have Richard,” Molly said with a wide smile.

  “Dick!” Ginny exclaimed, smiling back; and then they both broke out laughing.

  When Ginny got her control back, she asked. “Oh, by the way, did you receive the check from Ernst and Ernst?”

  “It came the other day, thanks,” Molly replied.

  “We’ll have to work together again, for the big bucks, ha,” Ginny chuckled.

  Ginny came back to reality, observing Reid, content in his slumber. She sat on the edge of the bed, a saddened expression on her face. “Reid, wake up,” she said in a soft tone, touching his shoulder.

  He stirred, opened his eyes, stretched and said, “It’s morning?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  He rubbed his eyes, switched on the lamp and said, “Why the sad look?”

  “I was thinking of us,” Ginny said.

  “Everything’s fine … isn’t it?”

  “You tell me,” she mumbled.

  Reid put his arms around her. “Everything is OK. I’m your steady man … I hate that expression … boyfriend. After all, I’m forty-three, too old for that expression.”

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s shower and go downstairs, OK?”

  “We’ll dress before going to the lobby,” he chuckled.

  They arrived at 10:15 p.m. in the lobby, finding the restaurants closed. They settled in a corner booth of the Gallery Bar and Cognac Room, where they ordered drinks and appetizers, which were consumed in rapid fashion.

  Reid put his right arm around Ginny and pulled her to him with a tight squeeze. “I get a shot of electricity when I touch you.”

  Ginny queried, “Been reading those romance novels again?”

  “Hey, I get most of my pick-up material from—”

  “Reid,” she interrupted, “you’ve already picked me up.”

  “True, my dearest, now, let’s plan our future,” he said.

  “I don’t like pet names, you know that, don’t you?” she reminded him.

  “You mean, the one name I came up with, all by myself, Baby Cakes will be unacceptable? Ha. Ha. Ha.” Reid laughed aloud.

  “If you think the broken nose I gave you hurt, call me Baby Cakes and you’ll regret it.”

  “Ginny, you win, you always do,” Reid said, leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.

  They sat in silence, each lost in thought. A few minutes passed. Finally, Reid broke the lull in conversation.

  “Ginny, I’ve left the department.”

  “What? When?”

  “After we talked.”

  “What are you going to do for a living … and with Isabelle?”

  “Ginny, listen,” Reid put his fingertip to her lips. “I’ll find something. I left Isabelle and rented a studio apartment in Hollywood and now I’m ready to …”

  “Reid!” she shrieked, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him.

  “We should go back upstairs,” he said, returning the kiss.

  “First things, first,” Ginny began. “Is the department through with us?”

  “We lucked out, so to speak. There aren’t any witnesses to our little mishap, so I think that we’re in the clear. The investigation never found the identity of the two shooters, except for their point of origin, which is Eastern Europe, probably Armenia or Turkey, who knows. And all others involved have mysteriously disappeared.”

  “I have my own theory,” Ginny added.

  “And that would be?”

  “Think about it for a moment: Epstein, Gufman, Wertz, Anna and John Wong, and Blagoian’s brother Gregory, all missing, so where does that leave us?” Ginny asked.

  “It’s your theory, so you tell me.”

  “Well, I had a lot of time to think about it, and then it dawned on me. Remember
when I was on the phone to you while waiting for a cab in Oxnard?” Ginny asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Gufman and Wertz dropped me off several blocks from the Oxnard house where Peter Blagoian was hiding. I phoned a cab. While I was waiting and talking to you, the taxi arrived. I mean, Oxnard is a small town, but the chances of getting a cab in two minutes, in the rain, was odd.”

  “Coincidence?” Reid asked.

  “No. I think Epstein set me up.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe Epstein, Peter Blagoian and the Wongs were cohorts,” Ginny said.

  “You mean Epstein ripped himself off?”

  “Could be,” Ginny said.

  “Oh, then you come along and fuck up the whole scheme; ha, I love it,” Reid said.

  “Bingo.”

  “So, to save his ass, Epstein has the two foreigners follow us, and that’s when he makes mistake number two, trying to bump off one of L.A.’s finest and one crack P.I. It didn’t fare well with Pressman, I guess?” Reid questioned.

  “Let’s stick to simple facts,” Ginny said.

  “Yeah, I get it, then Pressman gets rid of the lot to protect himself,” Reid said.

  “That’s about it, my friend.”

  “A far-fetched idea,” Reid added.

  “Yeah, all this thinking is giving me a headache.”

  “Hey, you’re not supposed to get headaches till after we’re married, ha,” Reid laughed.

  Ginny awoke, sitting up with a jerk into reality; a reoccurring bad dream left her in a funk. “Damn!” she screamed, waking Reid.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Pressman,” Ginny said.

  “What about him?”

  “I dreamt that his big Russian girlfriend was choking me.”

  “Monika.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s one mean-lookin’ bitch, that Monika is, my dear,” Reid said.

  “I’ve only seen her once, and that was enough to turn my blood cold,” Ginny shivered.

  Reid sat up and switched on the light. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Yes. While you were in the hospital, I stayed with my lawyer,” she began.

  “Define stayed!” Reid interrupted.

  “Jealous?” she asked. “Don’t be. Our relationship was purely platonic and professional.”