small bills.” Juhle drank again. “But I still don’t see you making your call to Hess, even if you had all of that-the contradiction about Neshek’s house, the motive.”
“Right. Still not enough. So I had a hunch. I knew that Jim Parr was on his way to Sunset, but either he never got there, or he got there and ran into somebody he knew who got him away.”
“Hess.”
Hunt nodded. “Hess. So I asked Carter if Hess had come back to Sunset that day after the memorial. He’d definitely been there and he’d know, and he told me she hadn’t. But she’d told Mickey she had.”
“There you go.”
“Well, again, there was a luck element. Mickey found the bar she took him to like a block around the corner from Sunset.”
“Okay, but why kill Parr?” Juhle asked.
“Basically same as Neshek. Jim knew from the old days that she had been doing Como. And he knew about the cash and the safe from his driving days too.”
“But Al Carter knew all of that, too, and she knew it.”
“So why didn’t she kill him too? I don’t know. Lack of opportunity? Or maybe she thought she’d convinced him-in fact I think she had-that she had nothing going with Como anymore. If it’s any consolation, Gina thinks that she would have gotten around to Al next. By this time, she was ready to go off on anybody who got close.”
“Actually, Wyatt, when you look at what she did, why she killed these people, maybe the insanity plea isn’t so far-fetched after all.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, the blunt instrument murders argue that she’s crazy. I mean, women don’t kill people with blunt instruments. They’re too unpredictable. Plus, you’ve got to swing really hard.”
Hunt chewed a moment. “Actually, I’ve thought about that, Dev, and it seems to me it’s more an argument for premeditation than insanity.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Well, I couldn’t figure out, if Hess had a gun, why she’d use a tire iron. I mean, on the face of it, as you say, that’s insane. But it’s not insane if you want to kill Dominic and at the same time make it look like Alicia did it because you hate her for stealing him from you.”
“Tire iron, limo, scarf.”
“Bingo. Alicia’s access to all of them. And by the way, it almost worked.”
“But not quite,” Juhle said.
Hunt let Juhle have his small face-saving moment. “And still, you know,” he added, “it came to getting her down to my place. She might have just blown off everything and waited it out, let you arrest Alicia, maybe get out of Dodge with her boy. It was then or never. I had to move, Dev. Had to.”
“Ever breathe a word of this to my partner, Wyatt, and I’ll deny it to my dying day, but I’m secretly glad as hell that you did.”
Wyatt Hunt heard what appeared to be lighthearted conversation as he mounted the stairs that led up to his office just after his first appointment of the day, which had been over at Gina Roake’s firm.
Now it was close to ten o’clock, and he had no appointments that he knew of scheduled for his office. Opening the outer door, he caught Tamara in midlaugh at something. Across the room from her, two middle-aged African-American men in black suits, white shirts, and black ties filled up the tiny reception area. They both stood when he entered, and now he was shaking both of their hands. “Mr. Carter, how you doin’? Good to see you again, Mr. Rand. Welcome to the Hunt Club, such as it is. What can I do for you gentlemen?”
The visit by these two men was a surprise, and far from an unpleasant one. Hunt had last seen them together during the small but very well-covered ceremony at City Hall where the mayor had presented the reward distribution money-two hundred thousand dollars to Al Carter, and fifty thousand each to Ellen Como, Cecil Rand, and Linda Colores. Though Lorraine Hess was still a long way from actually being convicted, there was no doubt that she had killed Dominic Como, and on this basis, Len Turner decided to release the reward funds before he was technically committed to do so.
It seemed that Al Carter was the spokesman for the two of them, and after a few more pleasantries catching up on life, they sat again on their chairs while Hunt perched himself on the side of Tamara’s desk. But no sooner had he sat than Al Carter half-stood again so that he could get at his wallet, which he extracted and from which he then produced a couple of business cards, which he handed over to Hunt.
Hunt looked down at the beautifully designed card, light blue with a colorful logo of a toucan, and the words “Toucan Limousine Service.”
“We realize that this is short notice, but we were hoping, Cecil and I, that since this is the first formal day of our new business-I don’t know if you’ve heard we’ve gone into partnership with two brand-new Town Cars-maybe we could drive you and your lovely associate here to the place of your choice and take you both to lunch.”
“We go by convoy,” Rand added. “All the way out to the Cliff House you want.”
Hunt half turned back to Tamara. “This is a tough call, but I’m thinking we need to close up for the afternoon, Tam. How’s that sound to you?”
She made a mock pout. “You’re the boss. If we have to.”
Hunt straightened off the desk. “You drive a hard bargain, but you gentlemen have got yourselves a deal. When do we go?”
“Tout de suite,” Carter said. “As soon as you’re all ready.”
Tamara was on her feet. “I’ll be right back. Just let me go and freshen up.”
As she disappeared back through Hunt’s inner office, Carter said, “There’s one other thing, Mr. Hunt. We’ve discussed this, Cecil and I, and we’d like to offer you free service in town if you need it, whenever we’re not driving paying clients.”
Hunt sat back down on the desk. His first thought being that this was like the old deal he’d had with Mickey when he’d been driving a cab, but better. And his second, that he couldn’t accept it. “Guys,” he said, “that’s extremely generous, but you’ll need your clients.”
“And we’ll get them,” Carter said. “But in the meanwhile, we’re at your service.”
“Would you let me at least pay for gas?”
The two men exchanged a glance and a quick nod. “Gas would not compromise our position too badly,” Carter said. “You can pay for gas.”
“Thank you.” Hunt shook hands with them again. “So what’s with the name?”
Both men smiled and Rand said, “Toucan.”
“Right.” Hunt still not seeing it.
“Mr. Hunt.” And then Carter said slowly, “Two con.”
Mickey had missed six weeks of cooking school because of his broken arm. He’d had the last soft cast finally removed earlier this week and though he was still stiff, he could at least raise it and move things around in the kitchen. And this morning, he was so anxious to get started that he woke himself up at a few minutes after six, had his coffee, and started his cutting-onions, celery, fennel root (why not? he’d thought), green beans, Brussels sprouts, potatoes-a cornucopia of just-purchased fresh produce overflowing the counter on both sides of the sink.
He’d gone down to the Ferry Building last week and ordered a fourteen-pound Diestel family Heirloom turkey that he’d picked up yesterday and soaked in the Chronicle’s famous “Best Turkey” brine. Truth be told, there really wasn’t much to cooking a turkey, as long as you didn’t overcook it, and even that was easy to time and guarantee with an instant-read thermometer. To his mind, the trick to the great Thanksgiving dinner was the stuffing, and since everybody had different tastes, he was making several kinds-prune, chestnut, oyster, bread, and sausage, and what he and Tamara had always called “plain old,” with celery, onions, stock, and poultry seasoning.
He was cutting the onions when he heard a scratching noise and he stopped and listened again. There it was again. A scratch and a soft tap.
Going out into the living room, he went over to the front door and opened it.
“I know it’s too early,” Alicia said, and then added all in a rush, “and the last thing I want to do is intrude on you or your kitchen, but I know how much you were doing today and I figured that since we were going to be eating here, our combined families, I mean, what there are of them, the least I could do would be to help you out a little, even if it’s early, although I haven’t really had much practice with exactly what to do on Thanksgiving, I mean,
