They saw each other every
week, had a nodding acquaintance, but had never exchanged names.
"Those ballet shoes sure wear out fast, don't
they?" Munch said.
"Yes," the woman said. "And last week
the stupid maid put them in the washing machine."
" Imagine," Munch said. She couldn't think
of anything else to say The woman checked her diamond-studded watch
and left. Munch kept her hands in her pockets. It wasn't that she was
ashamed to be a mechanic. She just didn't want anyone to see her
hands, not make the connection, and think she was dirty. There was a
difference between stained and dirty.
The dance class finished the final exercise. Before
the last strains of music had died away, Asia was at her side,
pulling her arm, cheeks flushed.
" Remember, you promised," she said.
"I didn't forget," Munch said. She smiled
down at Asia. The little girl's clear brown eyes brought a swell of
warmth to her chest. What perfect skin she had. "There's nothing
I'd rather do in the whole wide world than spend the day with you."
They walked hand in hand back to the car. The day was
warm, gently breezy. "How about the park?" Munch asked.
" Yeah! " Asia yelled, leaping high and
swiping at something imaginary in the air. They went to the little
park on Alla Road near Marina Del Rey. The little girl played on the
swing set and made new friends, quickly establishing herself as their
tribal leader.
How does she do that? Munch wondered, wishing she'd
remembered to bring a set of overalls and a sturdier pair of shoes
for Asia. Miss Diesel Mercedes probably had the maid pack a suitcase
whenever she went out.
After the park, they went to Uncle John's Pancake
House for lunch and had the usual argument over the value of french
fries as a vegetable. They compromised on scrambled eggs and hash
browns. Munch ordered coffee and finished what Asia left.
They got home at noon. The first thing Asia asked
when they turned up the street was also the burning question on
Munch's mind. U .
"Where's the limo?" the girl said.
Munch's first theory was that it had been stolen. The
idea following that initial supposition made much more sense. Ellen.
Fucking Ellen.
Munch pulled into the driveway and got out. She
walked over to the spot where the limo had been parked and noticed
puddles ringed with soap suds on the asphalt. Asia let herself out of
the car, walked up to Munch, and grabbed her hand.
"Let's go inside and see if anyone left us a
note," Munch said, unlocking the front door. Once across the
threshold, Munch pointed Asia toward her room, and told her, "Change
your clothes. "
Seconds later a scream erupted from Asia's room.
Munch was there in less than a second. Asia pointed at the line of
what appeared to be human heads adorning her dresser. Two wore wigs,
the third was bald and on closer inspection turned out to be made of
Styrofoam. A suitcase lay open on the floor.
Munch lifted one of the wigs—the blond one—off
its form and held it out for Asia's inspection.
"See? Just a wig."
" Whose stuff is this?" Asia asked.
"My friend, the one I was telling you about."
"Where is she?"
" That's what I want to know. Change your
clothes. I've got some calls to make."
She sat down at the dinette table that doubled as the
limo office. When she reached for the phone, she saw a sheet of limo
stationery folded in half. Her name was scrawled across the front.
She recognized Ellen's handwriting.
Hi, we got a job. Your honey, Derek, helped me get
the limo ready. Is he a hunk or what?Anyway, the guy said he would
pay cash and that the two of you had an arrangement. I am not back by
tonight, I'll call in. Thanks again for everything. I will make you
proud.
CHAPTER 5
Detective Mace St. John of L.A.'s elite Robbery
Homicide Division stood at the entryway of the apartment, studying
the scene before him. He liked to orient himself for a minute before
the first walk-through of a homicide scene. Detective Tiger
Cassiletti loomed behind him, rocking on the
Learning to Kill: Stories