Chapter Thirty-Three
“You got the exact address downtown, boss?” said the cabbie as they entered the outskirts of El Cajon.
Lance told him.
“No way, mister, that ain’t downtown, that’s Dodge City.”
“Well, that’s where we’re going.” Maria reached for Isobel’s arm in the back of the cab, the realisation that Lance’s forebodings were real now dawning.
The driver pulled in to the curb. “And I said, no way. There’s no white cabbie in the county will go there, even the cops stay away. You’ll need to get out and flag a Mex cab down. The fifty bucks are on me.”
“Listen, friend,” said Lance, slow and deliberate, “you’ve got two women in the back there and I know the licensing laws around here. So get moving or you’ll be kissing good-bye to that badge on the dash within a week.”
The man looked around at Isobel and Maria. “You should’ve said where you were going before you got in.”
“Then we’d still be hailing cabs on Orange Avenue. Now move it.”
The man pulled away from the curb with a screech of his tyres. “I’m straight in and straight out. How you get back is your problem.”
Lance turned to the two women. “You still up for this?”
Isobel nodded as Maria chewed down on her lip.
They turned off the main road and the further they got from it the shabbier the surroundings became. Pawnshops and payday loan offers came and went, their neon signs flickering behind steel mesh grills. Between derelict looking blocks were patches of wasteland with burned out cars, where stray dogs roamed looking for scraps. As the cab drew to a halt Lance pulled out a wad of cash and counted off three hundred-dollar bills. “We’ll need you to wait.” The cabbie eyed the money, but Lance turned to Maria and handed it to her. “You stay here, Maria. No need all of us getting mud on our boots.” She took the notes, relief written bold on her face.
By the time Lance emerged from the cab, Isobel stood nervously on the pavement, looking around in all directions. A few metres away a homeless old man with a crimson face and long grey beard shuffled towards her pushing an empty supermarket cart, the stench of stale urine preceding him. He put out his hand but Lance pulled Isobel under his arm. “Don’t even think about it, or you’ll have a posse of tramps waiting when we come down.”
He led her into the tenement block, past two young men in sleeveless vests sitting on the steps smoking joints, their unshaven faces the only exposed flesh not decorated with body art. The closer one nodded and held up two fingers in a peace sign as Lance passed. He called the elevators cut into the grey concrete walls but neither responded. “Thought as much,” said Lance, “the stairs it is then.”
The only lighting on the stairs came in through cracked and broken windows. Isobel followed Lance up, her hand in his, stepping around used condoms and spent syringes. They arrived without interruption or incident on the eighth floor at the unit that bore Juanita’s name and number.
“So far so good. But if the guy is inside this might be tricky,” said Lance. “You better stand to the side.”
They waited a full minute before anyone came to the door. “Who is it?” said a voice from inside. Lance nodded to Isobel.
“It’s me, Isobel.”
They listened as locks were turned and latches lifted. The door opened a few inches, a chain still attached. Through the gap Isobel could see Juanita’s black and swollen left eye.
“Are you alone in there?” asked Lance.
She nodded. “Yes, just me and Clarita.”
“Please, can we come in, Juanita?” said Isobel.
The girl let off the chain and the door swung back. She turned and they followed her into a one-room apartment with a kitchenette separated by a curtain, and an unmade bed in one corner. Signs of a fight were littered around, with broken and damaged pieces of furniture scattered about and one forlorn table leg lying splintered by the door. Juanita’s face carried the marks of a recent beating, the bruises still red and puffed. Despite whatever recent mayhem had occurred, Clarita slept soundly in her cot.
“I’m sorry, I should know to listen to you, señora.”
“I take it Pablo did all this?”
She nodded. “He came here in a rage. He wanted money but I would not give it. He beat me but still I did not, and then he tore everything open and apart till he found it.”
Lance stood at the sink running cold water onto a cloth. “Do you have ice?” he asked.
“Si, señor, in the fridge behind the curtain. I am sorry that my home is the way it is, it is not how I like to live.”
Isobel took the cloth and the ice and began to nurse the bruises, causing Juanita to flinch. “Don’t worry about the mess. Is anything broken? Do you have any internal bleeding or anything?”
“No, I do not think so. Just what you see.”
Lance paced the apartment as Isobel tended Juanita, righting upturned furniture and picking up fallen and broken objects.
“If you ever need to speak to Pablo,” said Lance, “where would you look for him?”
“If he has money then a bar in town, or the pool hall.”
“Do you remember the name of the bar?”
“La Cartuja, next to the pool hall.”
Isobel continued with her nursing. “You’re not a pretty sight, Juanita. This can’t go on.”
Juanita flinched as Isobel pressed a ball of ice against her cheekbone. “I cannot stop Pablo. He comes and goes as he pleases.”
“I thought I was bringing you good fortune when I helped find you the work in the gallery but instead it has brought you misery. There’s no point working for more money if Pablo is only going to drink it. You know that.”
“But the extra work is my only hope. And without hope I have nothing. And I wish so much for a better life, free of Pablo.”
“Then you must move out of here. Please. There’s a car downstairs. Pack what you need and let me take you to the safe house in La Mesa. You don’t have to stay there if you don’t like it but just give it a try. Please?” She could sense Juanita torn between the familiar and the unknown. “All you have to take is what you need for you and Clarita for a couple of days, till we’ve thought this through. And don’t worry about money, Pauline owes you another fat commission.”
“The lady from Torrey Pines?”
“Yes. And from the lady on Ocean Boulevard. I found out today you sold another of my pictures.”
For the first time Juanita smiled. “It is the window, señora, that is the secret.”
“You’re the secret, Juanita. The window is just a pane of glass. Now gather up what you need or the taxi driver will abandon us, and Maria with him.”
Lance led the way down carrying Juanita’s battered and bulging suitcase. As they rounded the final stairwell the two men who had been smoking on the stairs barred their way forwards. One brandished a baseball bat, thumping it into the palm of his hand like a drum beat. A dull thud sounded as Lance dropped the suitcase; he spread his arms to hold the women back.
“You boys looking for something?” said Lance, still two steps above the men.
“Your wallet for a start,” said the man holding the baseball bat.
“And then?”
“And then you and the Mex can be on your way and we’ll have a bit of fun with the lady. Now throw down your wallet.”
Lance did as commanded, dropping it between himself and the thug with the bat. “And a juicy thick one too,” said the man, keeping one eye on the man above him. As he stooped to pick it up, Lance lashed out with his right leg, connecting under the man’s chin and sending him and his bat careering back against the wall. Isobel shuddered and turned away at the sound of the heavy shoe crashing into flesh and bone.
“Now get out of my way,” he said to the other, “because there’s plenty more where that came from.”
The second thug stood his ground and pulled a six-inch blade from behind his back. “You’re not going to live long enough to regret that,” he said, crouching in a combat position and inching forwards.
Lance pulled a revolver from under his jacket. “Pick up your friend and get going or he’ll be picking up your body when I’m gone.”
The thug didn’t flinch. “You ain’t got the balls, man.”
Lance fired into the concrete between the man’s feet. In the confined space the blast resonated around with the force of a cannonball shot. The stink of cordite filled the air. He raised the gun to shoulder height, his arm extended. “You want to bet your life on that?”
When they left Juanita in the refuge in La Mesa, Isobel still trembled from the shock of the confrontation.
“It’s been a hell of a day,” said Lance. “What say we grab a cocktail, a birthday drink?”
“Can we get back home?” asked Isobel. “I’ve had more than enough excitement for one day.”
“Actually, my nerves could do with some help,” said Maria. “A cocktail works for me.”
“Your nerves? You weren’t part of the gunfight at the OK Corral.”
“It wasn’t exactly a picnic waiting in the getaway car. I nearly died when that shot rang out.”
“How about we compromise?” said Lance. “We get back across the bridge close to home, and enjoy a happy hour drink. Maybe at Il Fornaio. It is your birthday after all, Isobel.”
“Don’t worry, I’m never going to forget this one.”
“That’s settled, then, Il Fornaio it is.”
They took their seats outside on the terrace on a high round table that afforded a view straight across the bay. The afternoon sun flashed back from the opaque glass skyscrapers that defined the downtown skyline.
“And now, happy birthday,” said Lance, raising a glass of sparkling wine. “We seem to have survived it.”
Isobel had a hundred questions she wanted to ask Lance but decided to bide her time before raising them. But Maria had no such qualms. “Do you always carry a gun?”
“No, and today is the first time I’ve ever fired one other than on a range.”
“So how come you had one today?”
“I keep one locked in the glove compartment. Today just seemed the right day to take it with me. I’m licensed to carry it and I would have been within my legal rights to have used it today.”
“But you wouldn’t have shot that man,” said Maria with certainty.
“My way of thinking is you don’t carry a gun unless you have a compelling reason and you never carry one unless you’re prepared to use it. But, more to the point, what do you want to do about the lowlife knocking Juanita around for fun? We don’t want another day like today.”
“What can we do?” said Isobel. “You heard Juanita. She’s still adamant she won’t involve the police.”
“I heard. But the police aren’t the only solution.”
“Whatever do you mean?” said Isobel.
“Someone needs to make the Pablo problem go away. I know people who can take care of that.”
“Take care of?” repeated Isobel, feeling like she had been transported into some Mafia movie. “You mean warn him, frighten him?”
“No, I mean make him go away. Permanently. Scum like Pablo don’t back off because you wave a big stick at them. You have to use it.”
“I can’t believe I’m listening to this,” said Isobel.
Lance laughed mirthlessly. “I’m not saying we put Pablo to bed with the fishes. Just that we make him go away and not come back.” He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “I found this photograph in a broken frame as I tidied up. So we know everything we need to know, his name, his face, and where he hangs out. One telephone call and Pablo will be out of Juanita’s life forever and she need never know we lent a helping hand. And Pablo won’t know what hit him either—he’ll just be gone. A clean solution for everyone.”
“A legal solution?” said Isobel.
“No laws will be broken. And no bones will be broken. Just trust me to do what’s right for Juanita and the baby.”
“Can we not talk about something else? I’m trying to put what happened today behind me and get back to enjoying my birthday. Though I do appreciate your support today, the risk you took for Juanita, whom you hardly know, but…”
He held up his palm. “And I’m sure Juanita appreciates you ladies giving up whatever your birthday plans were today on her behalf.”
“We can catch up on our plans tomorrow. Spin out the celebrations.”
“And you have plans for this evening?”
“We’ve booked a sundowners’ dinner cruise on the bay,” said Maria.
If Maria had intended it as an invitation for Lance to join them he did not pick up on it. “A great choice, it’s something you’ll enjoy.” He looked at his watch. “I need to be going myself. Can I drop you back on Orange?”
Isobel welcomed the opportunity of respite from Lance’s company. Despite that earlier she had felt secure with the protection of his arm around her, that her body had tingled at the warmth of his skin on hers as he had led her up the stairwell, the violent confrontation had caused her to doubt everything. It had reminded her just how little she really knew about him. “You’ve already done too much. We’ll stay and finish the cocktails.”
Lance picked up his keys and his phone. “Do you have plans for tomorrow? I have tickets for the Padres game. It’s a grudge match and seats are harder to get than for the Super Bowl.” He looked from Maria to Isobel and back again.
“I’ve never been to a baseball game,” said Maria, filling the silence.
“Well, no need to decide now. Think about it over dinner, and let me know.”
They all rose and Isobel accepted his hand and a kiss to her cheek. “It’s been an emotional day.”
“All’s well that ends well,” said Lance. “Maybe we’ll catch up tomorrow then?”
“We just have to go,” said Maria, as soon as Lance had left.
“I guess Chrystal can’t make it,” Isobel replied.
“Isobel! What does the man need to do before you cut him some slack? We’re going to that game.”
“But we can’t just ignore what happened today. Someone could have been killed and Lance would have been doing the killing. And right now you and I could be accessories to a murder charge.”
“So you don’t believe what he said about today being the first time he’s ever used a gun in anger?”
“I just might have done if it hadn’t been for what he then said about ‘fixing’ the Pablo problem. A shiver went down my spine at the thought of what he seemed to be suggesting. And think about what else he said and about that photograph, how he tricked Juanita into telling him where he could find Pablo, and how he had the presence of mind to look for a picture while pretending to tidy around. We need to find out who the real Lance Denning is before we find ourselves in more hot water.”
“And how do we do that, Detective Roberts?”
Isobel hesitated, afraid to be melodramatic but too anxious to be otherwise. “Could you have Arnie’s research people run a check on him, see what they come up with…”
“Do you think that's wise? No one likes people poking through their laundry.”
“I’m not suggesting anything invasive, no bank statements or medical records or anything like that, just his background and his business interests.”
“But what if he finds out?”
“I’m ready to take that risk. You didn’t see what I saw today. It’s not just that he carried a gun and had the nerve to pull the trigger. He didn’t flinch for one second facing up to that cutthroat. I tell you, the man has ice in his veins.”
Maria shrugged. “On your head be it. I’ll call Arnie when we get home. Maybe we’ll get something back before the game.”
Isobel laughed. “You sure have made up your mind we’re going, haven’t you?”
“Yes I have. Now open that card from him that you’ve been carrying around all day before I die of curiosity!”
Isobel picked up the envelope and turned it back and forth.
“Well go on,” said Maria, “it won’t bite.”
Isobel ran her nail along the seal and took out the birthday card. A smaller envelope dropped to the table.
“The baseball tickets, do you think?” said Maria.
Isobel opened the second envelope. “Nope, a document.”
“And?” Isobel ran her eyes down the paper, her brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it.
“It’s a lease extension for the place I’m in. Lance is giving me the opportunity to stay on in the beach house?”
“Does he own it or something?”
“No, the landlord lives in Utah.” Isobel looked at the paper intently again. “It’s drawn up by the leasing agency. Ready for my signature. Lance has pulled some strings somewhere.”
“He’s a real Mr. Fix-It, isn’t he? Anything else?”
“Only that the rental is showing still at the winter rate. It should more than double for the summer months.”
“Maybe that’s a mistake.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, one thing's for sure, the glamorous Chrystal aside, Lance is hell-bent on keeping you from leaving Coronado.”
“So it seems. I guess we’ll find out more at the game.”
Maria brought her carefully manicured hands to her face, unable to disguise her delight.