FOLLOW THE LEADER - Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Joy Rollins lived in a loft in Mission Bay, an area in the midst of a comeback. In its heyday it was a big shipbuilding center during World War II. Trains chugged in with steel, and trucks hauled produce out of the San Joaquin Valley from places like Visalia and Tulare and Sanger. Now most of the factories were closed and sat like grey ghosts along the water. Their cracked windows gazed out at rusty oil barrels and empty yards. Other than being an easy walk from the Giants stadium I couldn’t see the appeal. I suspected Joy Rollins was paying a bundle for the place, even after splitting costs with her roommate.

         She buzzed me in. The new elevator sped to the second floor so fast I didn’t have to check my fly or run my index finger across my teeth or anything else guys do before meeting a pretty woman. Bang. I was there.

         Ms. Rollins was at her door to meet me. I walked along the long cement hall, my crepe soles squeaking loudly. As I got closer I saw that Joy Rollins looked a lot like the lovely actress Nicole Kidman, who was starring in Moulin Rouge. She had the same friendly face and coloring. Joy’s nose was pink, however. Was she suffering from a cold or hay fever? What about rosacea? As I drew closer I smelled the liquor. She’s a drinker. Who wouldn’t be in he situation? She still looked chic in her green cotton belted jump suit.

         We introduced ourselves. Out of the blue she said, “You used to be a boxer.”

         “How did you know that?”

“I Googled you.”

“Figures. I can’t see a gal like you hanging around The Cow Palace to see pugs like me going at it.”

“Some women like boxing. What’s wrong with that?”

“Do you?” I asked.

“No. I think it’s stupid. No offense.”

“None taken.” 

“So you’re the P.I. that Mike hired.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She was giving me mixed messages. She seemed to like my looks, but probably I didn’t match the picture of a detective she had in her mind.

         “Something wrong?” I asked.

         That got me a bitter laugh.

         “With me, I meant.”

         “No. Come on in.”

She led me into the kitchen. There was an open bottle of red wine on the table, along with an empty wine glass. The wine smelled heavenly.

         “Care for a glass of wine?” she asked.

         “Why not?” 

         She poured me a glass of cabernet, then filled her own glass. 

         “To your investigation.”

         “Yes.”

         We toasted.

         “Before we get into the grim stuff, tell me about yourself.”

         “Not much to tell.”

         “For starters, you’re not the typical detective with a license and a gun.”

         “Is that okay?”

         “So far. Mike told me zilch about you. Only that he heard you were good.”

         “I try.”

         “So how did you get into this?”

         “It’s a very long story.”

         “The evening is young.” She glanced at her watch. “Okay, maybe not too young.”

         “Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll tell you about myself—the nutshell version—but after I take care of business. And by that I mean, I need to hear your version of what happened that day in Death Valley. As much as you can remember.”

         Her body sagged. The boozy good cheer vanished in a heartbeat.

         “Trouble is, I can’t remember one damn thing other then what I told the cops.”

         “Let’s take it back. So the big dust cloud blew in. What were you doing at the time?”

         “Just preparing for the day. Packing my daypack. I was furious at Katherine, I remember that. I mean, we had gone to all this trouble to get out of the city and see the wildflowers blooming. Mike told her to invite Amy, just in case Katherine didn’t want to traipse around in the desert. He was right about that. She hated the idea of it, to start with. Then when we got there, she was pissed off that there was no greenery. It was getting to Mike. Finally he says,“It’s the goddamn desert, Kate!”

         “She was a kid,” I said. “Probably nothing personal.”

         “I know, I know, I keep telling myself that.”

         “Okay, you and your husband were pissed. What else can you remember?”

         “Just what I told the sheriff.”

         “Then tell me what you told him.”

         “Just that… Kate left us there that morning. Said she was going to get a real cup of coffee. Didn’t ask Amy to come along. I could see Amy’s feelings were hurt. As far as we knew, she came along just to be with Katherine.”

         “Did Amy know that Zack was pissed at her.”

         “Of course. They shared everything, and I mean everything.”

         “Mr. Rollins said that Katherine called you from the coffee shop.”

         “She did.”

         “What did she say? Can you remember any of it?”

         “Just that she thought the coffee was ‘hella good,’ as she put it and she had met a really interesting girl there. You know, as opposed to us boring losers.”

         “Did she mention her new best friend’s name?”

         “She might have. But I don’t remember it. And I didn’t remember it afterward, either.”

         She must have seen my disappointment.

         “I’m sorry, but that’s all I can remember from before…” 

         “The storm.”

         “Yes.”

         Shit! 

         No time to push it, I thought. Smile and be on your way.

         “You have my card. If you do think of something, call me. Please.”

         She sighed. “All right, but don’t hold your breath.”

         “Last time I tried that, I fainted.”

        
Minutes later I was driving back to my home/office, poking along Caesar Chavez.

         My cell phone rang.

         “Yes?”

         It was Terry.

         “Joy Rollins just called here,” said Terry. “She said she’d just called you but you didn’t answer. Is your phone on?”

         Oops.

         “Maybe I left it on vibrate.” Weak.

         “Whatever,” said Terry.

         “What does she want? I just came from there.”

         “No clue. Better call her back. It sounded important.”

         “Okay,” I sighed. I slowed down and pulled into a gas station and turned around.