Chapter 38 #2
He looked, and... “Oh, good. Lindsey just texted a photo of Clayton Spencer. She says it's a few years old, so picture less hair on the top of his head. And... apparently just last year he was the subject of an investigation into extortion and conspiracy charges that unfortunately went nowhere. But, damn Lindsey! Good work.” He sent her back a quick TY and an emoji heart. “She just sent me names and photos of ten, no eleven men who are alleged to be connected to Spencer, either working with him or for him.” He zapped the photos over to Rod, then looked up at Sam. “You wanna bet that if I show these to Rene or Cathy or Paula, they’ll recognize at least a few faces as being part of the estate’s so-called security team? ”
“I wouldn’t bet against that,” Sam agreed. “But there’s no crime in being hired for unnecessary security.”
“Yeah, but who do you think dug the graves in the garden?” Jules asked. “Certainly not Harper or even Spencer.” He swiped through Lindsey’s list. “Was it John Falkner or Peter Gates? Maybe Ivan Lenkovich?” This info was invaluable. He looked up at Sam. “I want a Lindsey Jenkins of my very own.”
Sam had the audacity to full-on laugh in his face. “Yeah, that’s one operative even you can’t steal from Tommy Paoletti. Lindsey loves Tom almost as much as Jenk does.”
“I didn’t say I was going to steal her,” Jules protested. “Just, you know, maybe borrow her for, I don’t know, four or five days a week?”
“Never gonna happen,” Sam said and the phone finally rang.
It was Rod, who didn’t bother with hello.
“I wasn’t sure if the photos were BOLOs or for a witness line-up, so I went for witness line-up.
Mick IDed photo number five as the man he saw in the lawyer’s parking lot on Wednesday when the alleged GPS tracking device was placed on his car.
And Emily thinks that nine was the shooter in the black SUV who clipped Mick in the arm. ”
That was helpful info. “Did either of them recognize the man in photo number one?” Jules asked, making a note of both of the other men’s names.
“No,” Rod said. “You want me to push?”
“Yeah, maybe, just a little, with Mick,” Jules said. “Guy’s name is Clayton Spencer—former LAPD.”
“Ah, Christ,” Rod exhaled his disgust. “I have arrested so many fucking cops over the years. We’ve got to start only hiring people who don’t want to be cops, because the assholes who do are fucking insane.
Jesus fucking Christ.” He exhaled hard again.
“All right. I’m back. Rant over. So we think Spencer’s working with Harper as the muscle behind some kind of inheritance fraud? ”
“We do indeed,” Jules said.
“Mick told me his theory,” Rod said. “He thinks Harper’s plan is to kill Emily and frame Mick for the murder, leaving Harper in place as executor.
I don’t know what the law is in California—that doesn’t sound right that Harper would keep control of the estate after a murder, but Mick says that Harper helped frame him before, back when he was a kid, so maybe there’s something there.
You want to fill me in on the details of that? ”
Jules quickly gave Rod an overview on Marina Santana’s hit-and-run death, and the doctored video that had precipitated Mick’s guilty plea—as well as his suspicions that Milt Devonshire the senior had died three years ago, and that Harper and possibly Spencer had been perpetrating fraud in order to keep control of the Devonshire fortune, by pretending the old man was still alive.
“We’ll know soon enough if there’re bodies in that garden. ”
“Even if there’s not,” Rod pointed out, “doesn’t mean you’re not right. Lotta other ways to dispose of a body. Still, if you do find one, you’re gonna want a DNA sample from Mick. Shall I get that for you?”
“Maybe wait til we get there,” Jules said. “FYI, Mick doesn’t know anything about that—the bodies in the garden. He’s been AWOL for the past coupla days, so we haven’t had a chance to fully fill him in.”
“He’s in the shower right now,” Rod said. “I’ll tread lightly when I ask him about Spencer. Unless you want to wait until you get here, let you ask him about it?”
“No, I’d love to get your take,” Jules said.
“It’s possible Mick never met Spencer, but he might’ve heard his name back when he was being charged for Marina’s death.
Spencer wasn’t officially involved with the police investigation—we’ve already checked into that.
But he was on the force at that time. I’m thinking someone—Harper, most likely—called him to help with the cover up. ”
“Got it,” Rod said.
“How’s Emily doing?” Jules asked.
“Still rattled, but mostly okay,” Rod reported. “She showered first. She’s on the sofa, talking to Kev. He made them grilled cheese sandwiches and... She’s wearing a pair of—” he cleared his throat “—Connie’s pajamas.”
Sam glanced at Jules, no doubt thinking the same thing. Jules put it to voice. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” Rod said quickly. “No, yeah. It’s... just a little... strange. Kevin’s been bugging me to give her clothes away, but...”
“Well, thank you again for opening your home to her. Mick, too.”
“I’m glad I can help,” Rod said simply. But then he cleared his throat again. “I’m on speaker, right?”
“You are,” Jules said.
“Can I not be?”
“Yeah, of course, hang on...” Jules found his phone in the cup holder and disengaged it from the car’s speakers, putting it up to his ear. “You are now off speaker.”
“Thanks,” Rod said. “I just wanted to tell you, privately, that, um, Kevin insisted on coming with me, you know, to pick them up. When he found out Mick had been shot... And I, um, I know you didn’t want him there, for safety’s sake, but.
.. Who am I to say no? At this point, we’re both civilians.
And I gotta be frank, I’m pretty sure he saved my life twice in the past year.
I was so fucking close to killing us both—Connie and me. ”
“Oh, God, Rod...”
“I know. But she was in so much pain, I didn’t know how to help her, so.
..” He took a deep breath, exhaled hard.
“I called Kevin and... He just dropped everything and came. I mean, he got his ass out here in hours. He knew exactly what to do, the painkillers she needed, everything. And how to manage the hospice system—all while making Connie laugh. I just... God, I owe him so much.”
“I’m so sorry that you went through that,” Jules murmured.
“And then, after she died, when I started drinking again,” Rod continued, “Kevin unleashed and completely kicked my ass.” He laughed a little. “I’m okay now. I am. But he refuses to leave because he knows when I say that, it’s a fucking lie.”
“You going to meetings?” Jules asked.
Rod sighed heavily. “I go, but I’m not really there, you know?”
“Yeah. How about grief counseling?”
“Are you going?” Rod countered.
“No, but I probably should,” Jules admitted.
“We... could go together. You could move to LA. Come work for me. Troubleshooters Incorporated. We have offices in San Diego and Sarasota, Florida. I’ll be in charge of a new LA branch.
Dig around for info about them, see if it’s something you can get behind. ”
Rod laughed his disbelief. “Fuck you, going all Jules Cassidy on me.”
“What does that mean?” Jules asked.
“I tell you this dark shit, and you fucking offer me a job. You seriously want me?”
“I want you even more because you told me that dark shit.”
On the other end of the line, he could hear Rod breathing. “I’m sorry, I gotta go,” he finally whispered. “But thank you. Really. I’ll, um, I’ll think about it.”
“I love you, man,” Jules whispered back. “I’m sorry it took me this long to call.”