Chapter 2
“Hello? Anyone here?”
Morning jolted with a start. She froze as she stared at the canvas, her gaze narrow. “Sorry. I’m coming,” she yelled.
“No problem. Just wondered if you were here.”
Dimly, in the back of her mind, she recognized the voice of one of her new guests. Just then Geir popped his face around the doorway. She stared at him in surprise. “Guests aren’t allowed in here.”
He nodded, but, instead of backing up, he stepped into the room. He looked at all the paintings she had set aside, potentially for the gallery, and he didn’t look quickly. Instead, he picked up each one, studied it, put it down, picked up another one.
She could feel herself not breathing, waiting for his comment, whether it was disparaging or complimentary. But he didn’t say a word. He studied them all, put them back, turned to look around, saw the futon, then came up behind her. She froze. She hated for anybody to see her paintings in progress. She knew it came from her well of self-doubt, worrying how each wasn’t a masterpiece. She could see what she wanted in her mind’s eye, but she hadn’t been able to get her fingers to match that same image on a canvas. Yet.
She stepped back until she stood beside him and turned her gaze to the canvas on the easel. She frowned. What the hell? Had she done that? Just then her grandfather clock chimed downstairs, and she realized it was four o’clock. She gasped. “It can’t be that late already.”
Geir slid her a glance. “Well, it is.”
Horrified, she looked at him, glanced back at the painting but couldn’t comprehend what she saw. She walked to the sink, cleaned her brushes and washed her hands.
When her hands were paint-free, she pulled off her smock and returned to take another look at the painting. It wasn’t just good. It was stunning. She knew it wasn’t finished, but, for the first time, she knew what was supposed to go next. It was an early morning sunrise, peeking through the clouds, adding light and lightness to a cherry blossom tree opening its buds. It was mostly done. She had a few more highlights to add. Several more hours probably because she always slowed down at this stage. But it was everything she could have hoped it to be.
At the same time she wondered if she was just caught up in the euphoria of a new project and not seeing it clearly. Then she turned to look at her nice paintings and knew there was no comparison. This wasn’t so much nice as it was demanding. It sucked you in and held you there.
And still Geir hadn’t said anything. He stood silently at her side, staring at the painting.
She walked to the door. “I’d like you to come out of there now please.”
He glanced at her, his gaze piercing as he said, “If you can paint like this”—he motioned to the canvas on the easel—“why do you paint like that?” He pointed to the pictures on the floor.
She stopped and looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“The level, the intensity, it’s tenfold in this painting. This one draws you in. I want to be there on that cherry blossom branch, watching the sunrise. It’s full of possibilities. It’s full of hope. Those others are flatter, still pretty, but this …” He returned his gaze to the canvas in front of him. “It’s stunning.”
Inside she felt some of the walls she’d built over her art dissolve. Some of her own insecurities came crumbling down. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I have to come up with some paintings to take to a gallery owner on Friday. And I was unhappy with what I’d already done. I was looking for something that defined me, who I am. And I honestly don’t remember very much about the last few hours. I got so caught up in the painting.”
He walked toward her. “So that painting is going in a gallery. It’ll be for sale?”
She nodded. “Hopefully. If he likes it.”
“If he doesn’t like it, I would like to buy it.”
She turned and looked at him. He nodded. “I’m serious. It’s really beautiful.”
Her heart bursting with happiness, she practically danced her way downstairs into the kitchen.
As Geir followed her, he said, “Tell me about the gallery showing.”
She shrugged as she pulled out the preparations for her shepherd’s pie, knowing she had to work fast. While she talked, she got the meat cooking, chopped up vegetables and put on the potatoes. “Not a whole lot to tell. A friend of a friend got me the invitation, and I was feeling uncomfortable, thinking I didn’t earn it on my own.”
“Some of the best breaks in the business world come from word of mouth,” he said neutrally. “You can’t let that stop you from taking advantage of it.”
She shrugged. “I’ve always been self-conscious about my art. I felt like I couldn’t quite connect to that part of my soul that needed to express what was in my head and in my heart. But with that painting, the most recent one, I feel like maybe I finally made a tentative step in that direction.”
“It shows incredible promise.” He looked around. “Any chance of a cup of coffee?”
She nodded. “Absolutely.” She put on a pot and returned to chopping the vegetables.
Twenty minutes later, she had the meat browned, all the vegetables collected, and a thick gravy just waiting on the potatoes. He saw what she was about to do and said, “Let me drain those.”
He took the pot off the stove and drained out the moisture, took off the lid, and, while she poured in cream, butter and spices, he mashed the potatoes into a nice thick topping for the vegetables and meat. It took another ten minutes to get it all assembled into the pan and into the oven.
She exhaled and smiled. “Phew! That’s done.” She turned the temperature up on the oven. “Dinner will be in an hour.”
“Absolutely,” he said with a smile.
“How did your afternoon go?” she asked.
“Actually I wanted to ask if Jager was here. I haven’t seen him since this morning.”
“I haven’t seen him either.” She turned and looked at Geir. “Is that a problem?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I headed off to meet someone, but he didn’t show. Now I can’t connect with Jager.” Clearly Geir was frustrated. “So far it feels like today has been a complete waste. I was hoping Jager had better luck.”
“I’m not sure I can do anything to help you in your reason for being here, but I haven’t seen Jager since you left. Then again, I didn’t hear you leave, so …” She held out her hands. “Did you check his room?”
Geir nodded. “He’s not there.”
“Vehicle?”
“Did you call him?”
“He hasn’t answered his phone.”
She leaned her hands on the edge of the counter and stared at Geir. “Is this serious? Do we need to call the police?”
He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be the police I’d call because what we’re doing here is private, for lack of a better word. I need to give Jager time to get back to me.” Then his phone rang. He smiled and held it up. “Jager. Hey, where are you?” Instantly he froze. “I’m on my way.” He walked out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “You may have to hold plates for us.”
She trailed behind him. “Why? What happened?”
“Jager just called. He was tracking somebody we know.”
“And?”
Geir turned to look at her. “He found a body.”
Geir hopped into his truck, pulled out into the traffic and headed downtown. His phone rang again. He clipped it on the dashboard and hit Talk. “Jager, I’m on my way.”
“Good. So are the cops.” His voice was dry. “I’m not in a very good position here.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“No, but, according to somebody I just talked to, he was a friend of Poppy’s.”
Geir’s back stiffened. “How good a friend?”
“That’s the thing, isn’t it? Apparently Poppy is well-known for his friends.”
“And that would include Mouse, I presume?”
“I asked him about Mouse, and he said he’d seen him around. But not for a few years.”
“Well, he’s been dead for two. He was in our unit for a third so how many does a few years mean?”
“He disappeared before he could answer anything else,” Jager said. “I have a good idea where he went though. It might be worth our while to give him a good shakedown, see what else he might have for information.”
“Was he close to the body?”
“Yes, but he took one look, then tried to bolt. I grabbed him, told him that I didn’t have anything to do with it.” He shrugged. “That body has been here for a while.”
“And of course he didn’t call for help?”
“Pretty sure he figured there was no point in trying to help because there was no help to be given.”
“According to the GPS, I’ll be there in seven minutes.”
“I’m in the back alley, so park on the main street.”
“Will do.” He ended the call, returning his attention to the traffic. Did one ever get used to heavy traffic? He followed the traffic until he came to the end of the GPS line. Seeing where the alley was, he waited for somebody to pull out from the main street, then nipped in and took a spot. Not knowing how long he would be here, but realizing there would be loads of cops, he put change into the meter, then walked around to the alley. “Jager?”
“Yep, keep coming this way.”
“Cops here?”
“Not yet.”
Geir shook his head. “Cop response time is different here, I presume?”
“Seems like it. It’s been at least thirty minutes.”
Almost before he got the words out, the sounds of a siren filled the air.
“Why the sirens now?”
The black-and-white pulled into the alley and stopped at the entrance. Geir stood beside Jager and waited. The cops approached. “Are you the ones who called us?”
Jager stepped forward. “I did.” He pointed to a heap of clothing beside a Dumpster bin. “That’s where I found the body.”
“Did you check if he was dead?”
“I did. I’d say he’s been dead at least a couple hours.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because rigor has set in.”
The cop sent him a hard glance. “Are you a doctor?”
Jager shook his head and just stayed quiet.
Geir understood. Jager had been the best medic of all of them in the unit. He had patched them up time and time again. And, if Jager said it was this many hours, then Geir believed him. But the cops would just get suspicious. And no one in the unit wanted to rehash who they were and how they came by their knowledge. Still, it was something that would likely have to be clarified at some point.
Geir stood silently while the cops talked to Jager about what he’d seen and heard.
The lead cop asked, “Do you know who it was you spoke to?”
Jager shook his head. “The guy disappeared around the corner.” He shrugged. “I’m pretty sure it was a homeless guy.”
“In this area, most likely.” The cop turned his attention to Geir. “And you?”
“I came down because he told me what he’d found.”
“Curious?”
“Supporting a friend,” he clipped out.
The cop nodded. “We need your contact information. Then you better clear out. We’ll have the coroner here in no time.”
Both willingly handed over their details and cell phone numbers. And, when they were free to go, they walked down the street and stood beside Geir’s truck. Jager’s Jeep Wrangler was parked around the corner.
Geir looked at his buddy. “I don’t think we should leave until we track down the guy you talked to. Look for a few more answers.”
“As long as we’re not seen,” Jager warned. “We know perfectly well the cops will look at us suspiciously if we get into their investigation.”
Geir nodded. “But chances of coming back here tomorrow and finding this homeless guy are not good.”
Jager agreed. “Lead the way.”
Together they sauntered down the block, turned right, went up a block to what looked like an old storefront with the windows busted out. Jager stepped to the door and pushed it open. Inside they stilled and listened. The sound of scurrying footsteps could be heard off in the far right corner. Moving quietly, they slid up the stairs and confronted two people sitting in the corner, a jug of booze between them. One man yelped, ready to run.
Jager held up his hands. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
The other guy froze and picked up his booze bottle, taking a big slug. “I don’t know nothing,” he said.
The first man shook his head. “And I told you all I did know.”
“We’re looking for Poppy,” Geir said. “Where can we find him?”
The guy shook his head. “You don’t want to find Poppy.”
“Why is that?”
“Poppy doesn’t like cops.”
“We’re not cops,” Geir said.
“You look close enough to it, and you won’t fool Poppy.”
Geir knew that was probably true. “We’re trying to find information about a friend. His nickname is Mouse,” he said, a part of him knowing perfectly well the Mouse they were after had died in the accident that had left Jager and him and the others badly injured. But, on the off chance there were two men called Mouse, Geir wanted to make sure they covered all the bases.
“Haven’t seen him in years,” the man said, then belched aloud, an offending odor wafting Geir’s way.
“Who could we ask for more information?”
The guy shook his head.
Jager pulled out his wallet, and, all of a sudden, the man smiled. “Well now, if you got a little bit of money there, I might tell you something.”
The second man nodded his head. “We got information.”
“Yeah, really? What kind of information? We’ll pay you, depending on how valuable it is,” Jager said, his voice hard. “Poppy and Mouse. What can you tell us?”
The words spilled out. “Haven’t seen Mouse in a couple years—maybe three or four,” one man said. “Poppy is around. At least I haven’t heard anything different. I avoid being anywhere he is, so I haven’t seen him in a long while.”
“Mouse is that tall skinny guy, right?” the second man asked.
Geir nodded. “Yes, that’s him. Would have been about twenty-five, twenty-six some four years ago.”
“He was Poppy’s boy.”
“I know. That’s why we’re trying to find Poppy.”
“You don’t look like you prefer boys,” the second man said.
“We don’t,” Jager said. “But we do want to find Mouse.”
“Is he a friend of yours?” the second man asked, his eyes blurry, his face red.
Geir nodded. “A very dear friend.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have said it that way because both of the winos looked at him suspiciously. He raised both palms. “No, we don’t want him for that reason.”
Both men shrugged. “Mouse and Poppy have been together a long time.”
“Since Mouse took off, who does Poppy hang around with?”
“Others,” the second man said. “Lots of others.”
“And, when he was with Mouse, were they together-together?”
The second man nodded. “Seemed like it. Like I said, I haven’t seen Poppy in a while. He went back to his old ways.”
“What were the old ways?”
The second man froze, looked at the other guy.
The other guy picked up the story. “He likes lots of young boys. When he was with Mouse, he seemed to be stable. But, after Mouse left, he went back to little boys.”
“And the cops never caught him?”
“No, he’s looking for another Mouse. Somebody he can groom for the long term.”
“So, another boy looking for a father figure, love and attention, plus three square meals a day,” Jager said, his tone harder than before.
Both men nodded. “Exactly,” the second man said.
“So you need to help us find Poppy, so we can help these boys.”
The second man picked up the jug and took a big slug. “Check out the school.”
“Which one?”
“Around the corner,” he said. “Sometimes Poppy brings them there.”
Geir looked around at the deserted building, the drafty windows, and thought about a man bringing a young boy desperate for attention to a place like this. “For booze, drugs or sex?”
“All of them. Depends what the kids need.”
With a grim nod, Jager asked, “Do you know anything about Mouse?”
“He was tight with Poppy for a long time. And then something happened. And Mouse left.”
“Do you know for sure he left? Any chance Poppy might have taken him out?”
Both men shook their heads. “Poppy doesn’t kill,” the first man said. “He’s the kind that’ll bawl and beg before he’ll kill anyone.”
“So is that why he went off the wall after Mouse left? Grief? Broken up over the breakup? Had to find a replacement?”
The men nodded again.
“Any idea who killed the guy outside?”
Both men shared a glance and a shrug. “No,” said one of them.
“Was he a friend of Poppy’s?”
“No, but it’s not hard to imagine another man or a family member getting upset at somebody Poppy may have touched,” the other man said.
“Why haven’t they caught him?”
“Because he’s slimy and ugly on the inside, but you don’t see that on the outside,” the first man said.
Geir stiffened. “And when you say, around the school, you don’t mean hanging around the playground, looking to lure a young boy. What you mean is working in the school, don’t you?”
The second man nodded. “Yeah, he works there. You can’t miss him. He’s the one the kids all love.”
“Hence the name Poppy?” Geir surmised.
“And what’s Poppy’s real name?” Jager asked.
Both men shrugged. “I think you’ve had enough information for whatever money you’re passing our way,” the first man said.
Geir and Jager exchanged looks.
“They have been helpful,” Jager said in a low tone. He pulled forty bucks out of his wallet and stepped forward, handing each of the men a twenty.
Instantly the money disappeared, and both smiled up at him. “Thanks very much. If you ever need any more information, you know where to find us.”
“Well, considering there’s a dead man outside, you might want to change your location,” Geir said. “Somebody else might not pay you with money in return for information. They might decide to pay you by shutting you up.”
The men’s gazes turned to beady-eyed ferret-looking things. “We’ll be moving real fast,” the second man said, finally understanding.
“What killed him?” the first one asked.
“Don’t know. His head was bashed in.”
“Shit. I really liked this place. We’ll have to leave it for at least a month now.”
“Well, that’s how long we had to leave it last time,” the first man agreed.
At that, Geir asked, “How often have Poppy’s friends been killed?”
The men glanced at him. The first man said, “He goes through a lot of friends.” After that he shut up, wouldn’t say anymore.
Back downstairs and out on the street, Geir had to think about that. “So, if it’s not Poppy killing people, who is it?”
“And are any of them connected or is it just a random issue—or is Poppy hiring people to do his dirty work?”
“We’re just starting this investigation, so it’s too early to tell.”
Jager checked his watch. “I suggest we go talk to the school.”
“Well, Minx’s friend Agnes led us to a JoJo Henderson aka Poppy in the halfway house in Texas, but that went cold once he moved on. And we find no paper trail of a JoJo Henderson here in San Diego. We still have to find out what name Poppy is using here,” Geir said, falling into step beside his buddy. “But I guess working at a school would be a great place to find your next victim, wouldn’t it?”
“And potentially a lot of very angry parents, if you picked the wrong student.”
Geir nodded. “Sounds like he’s trying to replace Mouse though. Particularly if he managed to get Mouse into the navy. Poppy could be very lonely.”
“That brings up another point. We never did ask if there was any physical reason Mouse couldn’t join the navy. Maybe we need to follow up with Minx some more.”
“Would she know? He apparently was physically scarred from all these years of bodily trauma, but it’s also quite possible he wouldn’t pass the shrink exam.”
“I’m surprised any of us passed some of those tests,” Jager said quietly.
“Exactly.”