Liar

He laughed until he was wiping tears from his face, but didn’t contradict her.

She dropped him off at his car, telling him she wanted his parking spot-which, of course, ensured that he had to drive off. He was no sooner out of sight than Rachel said, “Be careful around him. He suspects you-if not of murder, of-well, I don’t know what.”

“How can you tell that? He never talked about the case this morning.”

“I know him. He doesn’t trust anybody.”

This time, when we came up the porch steps, I could hear the noise of neighbors at home. The parrot in apartment one was calling out “Stick ‘em up!” The phone was ringing in apartment four, but this time it was answered after two rings. Briana’s apartment was silent.

I reached into my jeans pocket and took out the key ring; it had three keys and the medallion on it. I used the smallest key to open mailbox number four, the one with nothing but a sticky rectangle where “B. Maguire” ought to have been. The mailbox was empty. Now that we weren’t being watched by the LAPD, I took out my notebook and wrote down the other occupants’ names and their apartment numbers. Rachel watched me, but didn’t say anything.

“Is that a Christopher medal?” she asked, as I moved to the door of apartment number four.

“Yes. I was sad when Christopher got taken off the A-list. All the surfers used to wear the medals anyway.”

“I never did any surfing, but maybe he deserved to get ousted. He was supposed to protect travelers, right?”

“Right.”

“Your aunt couldn’t make it from here to the store.”

I shrugged and put the key in the lock.

Above us, a door opened and an elderly woman stepped out on the landing. She was wearing a thin housecoat and a pair of slippers; her white hair was in wild disarray. “Just hold it right there!” she called, coming down the stairs at such a fast clip, I feared for her safety.

She pointed a finger at me. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m Briana’s niece-”

“Hah!”

“She is!” Rachel protested.

“Let’s see some identification,” the woman said.

“All right, Mrs. Woolrich,” I said, using the name from the tag on the mailbox. I pulled out my wallet as she continued to eye me suspiciously.

I showed her my driver’s license. She pulled a pair of reading glasses out of the pocket of the housecoat and put them on. She looked between me and the license. “Irene Kelly… you’re Mary Kelly’s grandniece?”

“Yes. And this is my friend, Rachel Giocopazzi.”

“I’m Esther Woolrich. Miss Woolrich, by the way, which is something no mailbox can tell you,” she said with a wink. More solemnly, she said, “Mary told me she’d be sending you by for Briana’s things. I’m sorry for your loss, although from what Mary tells me…”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “Well, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

She didn’t move. “Sorry if I was a little brusque, but twice in the last few weeks, someone has tried to rob this apartment. Now that the cops are going away, we don’t want anyone to start trying to break in again.”

“Mary mentioned something about break-ins, but-only this apartment?”

“Yes. I’ve told the police about it, but they don’t do a thing.”

“You told the homicide detective?” Rachel asked.

“No, no. As I said, this was before we knew what had happened to poor Briana. Started not long before she died. I called the regular number, not homicide. They think I’m some old crackpot. You’d think I’d have to wait until the thieves actually broke in.”

“You came down those stairs thinking we were burglars?” Rachel asked. “Miss Woolrich, next time, it might be better to call the police. If we had been here to commit a burglary-”

“You probably would have run off. That’s what the others did.”

“What others?” I asked.

“First time, it was a man. Come right up to the front door, bold as brass. I’d seen him here before-parked out front. Casing the joint, that’s what he was up to then. That was before Briana died.”

“I’m confused-did he try to rob Briana’s apartment while she was still alive?”

“Yes. He parked out front and watched her leave, then came up and read the mailboxes, just like you did.”

“You couldn’t see that from your apartment,” I said.

She sighed, then startled us by calling out, “Open the door, Ruby.”

Behind us, the door to apartment number one opened a crack, and a short, stout woman who appeared to be near Esther Woolrich’s age peered out.

“Put the gun away and come out and meet Mary’s grandniece,” Esther said.

Rachel and I quickly exchanged horrified looks.

“Oh, don’t worry! She’s trained to use it,” Esther said.

We were not entirely reassured. Anyone with a parrot that had learned to say “Stick ‘em up” might be a little trigger-happy. But when Ruby stepped out into the hall, she greeted us warmly, with no sign of any intention of shooting us.

“You ever ridden with Mary in that car of hers?” she asked me as she shook my hand.

“Several times,” I said.

Rachel looked at me questioningly.

“A cherry ‘68 Mustang convertible,” I said, getting nods of agreement from Esther and Ruby.

“I’ve got to meet this woman,” Rachel said.

“Who lives in the other apartment?” I asked, pointing to the one across the hall from Esther’s.

“Oh, that guy. He’s spending a month back east with his grandkids,” Esther said, then added with a note of disapproval, “He’s like your aunt was-he keeps to himself.”

“But I take it you all keep an eye on one another?” I said to Ruby.

“Yes. That’s how we caught the burglars. Esther scared them off- didn’t have to use my little semiautomatic. Only a twenty-two, not much stopping power. But it will do in a pinch. I must say I’m relieved to have you take Briana’s belongings away from this place.”

“Tell us more about these attempted burglaries,” Rachel said. “The first time you saw him, he parked out front, came up to look at the mailboxes, then left?”

“Yes,” Ruby said. “Esther spotted him first, and called me. We watched him while he was watching the place. But he didn’t try to get in that time. Later, we sat down and figured out that it had been just before the accident.” She shook her head. “I feel so terrible about that! Briana kept to herself more than most, so we didn’t always know what she was up to, if you know what I mean. We knew she wasn’t home, but recently she’d taken to leaving for a few days at a time, and we just thought she might have gone visiting some friends or relatives. But then to find out…” Her voice trailed off as she caught Esther’s censorious glare.

“To answer your question,” Esther said, “the man showed up just before Briana died, and watched the place. Then he came by again, after the accident, but before we knew what had become of her. He had a set of lock picks with him.”

“Lock picks?” Rachel said. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Ruby said. “Saw them plain as day through the peephole.” She pointed out a small opening in her apartment door.

“I scared him off,” Esther said. “And I got a good look at him, too.”

“Mind describing him for me?” I asked.

“He’s tall,” Esther said, “about six foot, I’d say, and handsome enough, I guess.”

“Hoo!” Ruby exclaimed. “A regular silver fox!”

“Control yourself,” Esther said, but added, “To be fair, he was a somewhat attractive man. I’d put him in his mid-to-late fifties. Broad shoulders. He must have been dark-haired at one time, but mostly gray now. Cut short. And he was clean-shaven.”

“I smelled booze on him,” Ruby added.