Quilting Mystery: Knot In My Backyard Part 18

"I'm calling from Rafi's place. He let me use his phone."

"Stay where you are. I'm coming to get you."

I threw on a short-sleeved T-s.h.i.+rt and a pair of jeans. The waistline wasn't uncomfortably tight anymore, just snug. Did I lose some weight this past week? I was tempted to jump on the scale, but I decided not to take the time. I slipped into my pink Crocs and grabbed my keys.

Four hours had pa.s.sed since I took my medication, and I felt clear-headed enough to drive. I drove south to the Boulevard and located a parking s.p.a.ce in front of Rafi's Falafel.

Hilda sat inside with a gla.s.s of cold water. Her fingers drummed anxiously on the table.

Rafi frowned at me. "Who do such a thing? It's not enough these people have no house? Where is government? Where is haganah, the protection? Where they go now?"

I sat and shook my head sadly. "I don't know, Rafi. We tried to help yesterday by giving them blankets and other personal items. Our mitzvah may have actually triggered what happened today. I think someone was afraid we might be down there asking questions, so they forced everyone to disappear."

Rafi lowered his voice. "I don't know what you involved in, but you must be careful. If they get rid of people who can answer questions, maybe they try to get rid of people who ask questions."

Actually, that thought had crossed my mind-although I didn't sense any immediate personal danger. I was determined to unravel the tangled threads connecting the Beaumont School, the Army Corps of Engineers, Valley Allstar Construction, and the brutal murder of Dax Martin. And for what they destroyed this morning, I wanted badly to hurt them all.

Who knew? If we could blow the conspiracy wide open, maybe we could even compel the engineers not only to rebuild the reserve but to also tear down the offending baseball stadium while they were at it. They might be shamed into restoring the land to the public green s.p.a.ce it was meant to be.

"I want to go to the wildlife reserve. Will you go with me, Hilda?"

"What for? It's done. I'm sick, I'm mad, and I'm ready to give up."

"Because I need to see for myself."

I parked my car on the shoulder of Burbank Boulevard, right where I parked the day before. My abandoned athletic shoes were gone. Hilda and I didn't have to walk down the access road to see the devastation. All the brush was gone, and we could clearly look down at the reserve from Burbank. The heavy construction equipment was gone and the dust had settled. Only the scorched earth was left.

Hilda and I walked down the access road to the bottom. More than eighty acres were sc.r.a.ped down to the bare dirt. Trees that once sheltered birds, animals, and human beings were now just low stumps with jagged edges. I walked over to a mound of topsoil where the lake once was. The corner of the half-buried green-and-white Windmill quilt stuck out of the dirt like a dead hand, shredded beyond repair. What would the young boy do now for warmth this coming winter?

Silence hung heavily where only yesterday I listened to the trilling of birds. All I heard now was the sound of cars whoos.h.i.+ng down the nearby freeway and the harsh cawing of several crows circling overhead. My heart broke.

"I'd sure like to know what your uncle Isaac has to say about this," Hilda said quietly. "If there's a G.o.d, He wasn't much use this morning, was He?"

"I don't know what Uncle Isaac would say. I'm not going to let them get away with this!" My head was roiling with anger as we walked back up the hill toward Burbank Boulevard. When we reached the top, an army jeep was parked behind my Corolla.

Lawanda Price leaned against the door of the jeep, arms folded across her chest. She leveled a hard look at my face. "I saw you on television last night. Did you enjoy your fifteen seconds of fame?"

It took all my self-control not to slug her. "What you did here today-destroying this place and driving those poor people away-was criminal. I'm going to make it my business to see you pay for this."

Price was surprisingly unruffled. She pointed to my pink rubber shoes, her voice eerily calm. "I remember you from the park the other day. I know who you are, Martha Rose."

"So you know my name. So what?"

She stood straight and smiled slightly. "I also know where you live." Something in her eyes blew a chill through my body.

Price turned her malicious gaze toward Hilda. Then, without another word, she climbed in her jeep and drove off. Hilda grabbed my upper arm and swung me around; her eyes were wide with fear. "Did you hear that? She threatened you!"

I still shook a little. "It didn't escape my notice."

Hilda wrung her hands. "Neither one of us is safe. I know how to disappear, but you have to hide, Martha. She's coming after you."

Four months before, I'd been in a similar situation and hid out at my friend Lucy's house for a few days. I didn't want to make a habit of p.i.s.sing people off and then running away to Lucy's for protection. I'd have to figure out a way to handle this situation differently.

"Hilda, I'm worried about you. Come back to my house."

She threw her hands in the air. "Are you nuts? She knows where you live. Your house is the last place I want to stay."

"Well, at least come back with me until we can figure out a safer place for you. Your community is scattered. You're too vulnerable to be outside on your own."

"Everyone's vulnerable. Now they need my help more than ever. Don't worry about me, Wonder Woman. I have a superpower of my own. I know how to become invisible."

I suddenly felt bereft at the thought of losing touch with Hilda. "How will I find you again?"

"I've still got your phone number. I'll keep in touch." Then she teased, "And I know where you live." Neither one of us laughed.

I dropped Hilda back at Rafi's place and drove home. Something hung from the handle of my front door. A sc.r.a.p of the green-and-white Windmill quilt was tied to the doork.n.o.b. A message. Lawanda Price wasn't kidding. She really did know where I lived.

Okay, now I was officially scared.

CHAPTER 30.

The fragment of quilt had been cut with a knife. As soon as I got inside the house, I set the alarm and threw the dead bolt.

I instinctively wanted to call the police, but if I asked for police protection, I'd have to tell Beavers the rest of what I knew. I wasn't ready to do that just yet. First, I needed to find out how close Aiken was to getting political asylum for Javier and Graciela. Once our witnesses were secure, they could emerge from hiding and clear Ed. Then I could tell Beavers every rotten detail I suspected about Beaumont and the Army Corps of Engineers.

The clock read one in the afternoon, and I was starving. Fear made me hungry. Anxiety made me hungry. So did sadness, anger, boredom, excitement, and happiness. I pulled two sweet corn and cheese tamales from the freezer and stuck them in the microwave for five minutes.

The light blinked on my phone, alerting me to new voice mail. My daughter, Quincy, left the first message. "Hi, Mom. I may be getting a new job as the West Coast reporter for NPR. I might even be based in Los Angeles. How cool would that be? Call me back."

Quincy lived and worked in Boston. I missed my only daughter and worried about her being so far away. This message was the first really happy news since the day I discovered Dax Martin's body. I tried returning her call, but only got her voice mail. "Hey, honey. Sorry I missed you. This is great news. You know I'm thrilled at the thought of your living in LA again. Call me when you can talk. Love you."

Pastor Sandoval left the second message. "h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Rose. I don't know if you heard what happened in the Sepulveda Basin this morning, but I've got a big crisis on my hands. My church is filled with homeless refugees who're dest.i.tute and scared. The couple we talked about is convinced what happened was a warning to them. They plan to drive north tonight. I won't stop them, but I did persuade them to talk to you before they leave. Please call me at this number."

No! If Javier and Graciela leave town, there'll be no one to give Ed an alibi. No one to identify the real killer. The DA will arrest Ed and charge him with murder.

Sandoval answered on the second ring. A din of upset voices filled the background. He must be in the storefront with many of the displaced people. I pictured Christ in the mural stretching his arms out over the crowd. "Pastor Sandoval, I'm sick about what happened this morning. I just came back from surveying the damage."

"The people we talked about, they're leaving after dark. If you show up here at nine tonight, I'll arrange for them to speak to you just before they go. You must come alone. I'll be here to translate and ensure their safety."

"What if we can get them political asylum and put them in protective custody? I have an attorney working on safe haven right now."

"Mrs. Rose, the United States government destroyed their homes this morning. Do you think the same government will protect them?"

How could I argue? Powerful people were connected to the Beaumont School, and the school was in bed with the army. They might even be in bed with the US Attorney's Office. Maybe Sandoval was right. Maybe the witnesses wouldn't be safe in protective custody in Los Angeles. Maybe they would be better off escaping north.

"You may be right, Mr. Sandoval. I appreciate your help. I'll meet you at your church at nine."

Next I called Ed Pappas. Five minutes later, Ed showed up at my door, with a brown leather computer bag slung over his shoulder. Light brown hair hung in his eyes and deep concern creased his features. He placed the bag on my coffee table, reached in, and pulled out his laptop and a gun.

"I've called Crusher. He's arranging for one of us to be with you twenty-four/seven. I'll be here until he closes the shop. Then he's coming over. This gun goes wherever you go. What happened?"

I told him about visiting the Sepulveda Basin in the morning with Hilda after Valley Allstar Construction destroyed the area and drove out all the people living there. I filled him in on the conversation I overheard between Lawanda Price and her boss, Barbara Hardisty, a few days ago. Then I told him about the confrontation with Price and her threat of "I know where you live." I showed him the piece of mutilated quilt I found tied to my front door.

He clenched his fists. "I wish I'd never let you get involved in this."

I removed the tamales from the microwave and put them on a plate. They'd gone from frozen to hot and back to cold again. Ed refused the offer of food. "I've eaten. You go ahead."

I handed Ed my cell phone, picked up a fork, and tucked into the first tamale. "Ed, can you show me how to take photos and use this as a tape recorder?"

He laughed. "I a.s.sume you're not heavy into communication devices."

"Ummff," I answered, nodding with a mouthful of food.

He walked me through the remarkably easy steps and I took his photo. "Now I can look at your handsome face whenever I want," I teased.

We sat in the living room for the next couple of hours; Ed worked on his laptop while I picked up the Dresden Plate quilt and resumed quilting.

Tires squealed outside and I looked up. Two squad cars stopped in front of Ed's house; an unmarked car blocked the street. Detective Kaplan, Beavers's younger partner, got out with his gun drawn.

"c.r.a.p! Ed, go hide in my bedroom. The cops are at your house."

He got up and walked toward the window to look. "What the-"

"Stop! They'll see you through the window. Go quickly." I pointed down the hall. "My bedroom's in the back of the house. They won't be able to see you back there. Close the drapes."

I sat in the chair and watched. When the police determined Ed wasn't home, they got back in their cars. Kaplan looked around, spotted my house, and swaggered toward my door. He knew where I lived, all right. Four months ago, he'd arrested me right on this very spot. I had no choice but to open the door when he knocked, but I didn't let him come in.

"What do you want now?" I demanded.

"Pappas. He's not at home. Do you know where he is?"

"Yes. He's in a cheap motel making love to your mother."

Kaplan's dark eyes snapped. He looked past me into my living room and caught sight of Ed's gun on my coffee table.

He pointed his finger accusingly. "Whose gun is that?"

"Mine. For protection."

"I think you're hiding Pappas. I'm coming in." He took a step forward.

I held out my arm. "Not without probable cause, you're not. Get a warrant, Kaplan. Better yet, get a clue." I slammed the door in his face.

I quickly called Beavers. "Arlo, your smarmy little partner, Kaplan, was just at my front door, and he wanted to search my house without a warrant. He had some crazy idea Ed Pappas is here." I looked up. Ed stepped out of my bedroom into the hallway. I put my finger to my lips.

"Why would he think that?"

I cleared my throat. "He may have seen a gun on my coffee table."

Silence. Beavers was probably remembering the time four months ago when I borrowed a gun from Lucy to protect myself against a killer. Finally he said, "Again? You think someone's after you again?"

"Did you hear about what happened in the wildlife reserve this morning?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember what I said about someone in the engineer corps not wanting the police to find the witnesses to Dax Martin's murder?"

"Yeah, but destroying the wildlife reserve seems like an extreme measure to make a couple of witnesses disappear. So, who's after you this time?" There was a certain mocking tone in his voice.

"Lawanda Price threatened me this morning."

"How did she threaten you?"

"She said, 'I know where you live.'"

"That's it?" He clearly wasn't convinced I was in trouble.

"Then she tied a cloth to my front door."

"A cloth? Sounds downright menacing."

I ignored the sarcasm. "Listen, I know stuff about her and her boss, Barbara Hardisty-criminal stuff that may be connected to Dax Martin's murder. I'll be happy to tell you everything after I tie up a few loose ends this afternoon, but you have to get Kaplan off my back."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because I've been right before. Just give me twenty-four hours."

"Kaplan seems to have a special animosity toward you. Do you know what that's all about?"

"No idea. I've always been nice to him."

Beavers grunted. "If you really are in danger, go to your friend's house. Don't rely on a gun."

"I've got bodyguards."

His voice lowered a notch. "Levy."

"Let's not go there, Arlo. Let's wait to have that conversation when we both have the time."

"You mean when we both have the bandwidth?" He threw my expression back at me from our conversation yesterday.

"Arlo, Kaplan was going to arrest Ed."