The Gods of Guilt(14)

“No, it’s not a recorded system,” Cisco said.

“Cameras?”

“Nope.”

That could cut either way for La Cosse.

“Okay, when you’re finished there, I’ve got some stuff for you.”

“I can come back to this. The building manager’s being cooperative.”

“Okay, then. We’re all going to meet tomorrow at eight. Before that, if you can, I want you to run down a name. Gloria Dayton. You can get a DOB from the files Lorna has. I want to know where she’s been for the past few years.”

“You got it. Who is she?”

“She’s our victim, only the police don’t know it.”

“La Cosse tell you this?”

“No, I figured it out on my own. She’s a former client.”

“You know, I could use this as currency. I checked with the morgue and they had not confirmed the ID because the body and the apartment were burned. No usable fingerprints from either. They were hoping her DNA would be in the system or that they could find a dentist.”

“Yeah, well, you can use it if it gets you something. I just looked at the pictures on the Giselle-for-you website. It’s Gloria Dayton, an old client I thought moved to Hawaii about seven years ago. Andre told me he’d been working with her here for the past two years. I want the full picture.”

“Got it. Seven years ago, why’d she go?”

I paused before answering, thinking about the last case I handled for Gloria Dayton.

“I had a case that paid me well and she played a part. I gave her twenty-five grand if she promised to quit the life and start over. There was also a guy. She snitched him off to get a deal. I was the broker. It was just time for her to get out of town.”

“Could that have anything to do with this?”

“I don’t know. It was a long time ago and that guy went away for life.”

Hector Arrande Moya. I still remembered his name, the way it rolled off the tongue. The feds had wanted him bad and Gloria knew where to find him.

“I’m going to put Bullocks on that tomorrow,” I said, referring to Jennifer Aronson by her nickname. “If nothing else, we might be able use the guy as a straw man.”

“Can you still take the case with the victim being a former client? Isn’t that some sort of conflict of interest or something?”

“It can be worked out. It’s the legal system, Cisco. It’s malleable.”

“Understood.”

“One last thing. Sunday night she had a trick at the Beverly Wilshire that didn’t come through. Supposedly the guy wasn’t there. Go poke around over there and see what you can come up with.”

“Did you get a room number?”

“Yeah, eight thirty-seven. Guy’s name was Daniel Price. This all comes from La Cosse. He said Gloria claimed the room wasn’t even rented.”

“I’m on it.”

After I finished the call with Cisco, I put the phone away and just looked out the window until we reached my house on Fareholm. Earl gave me the keys and headed to his own car parked against the curb. I reminded him about the early start the next day and went up the stairs to the front door.

I put my stuff down on the dining room table and went into the kitchen for a bottle of beer. When I closed the refrigerator, I checked through all the photos and cards held on the door by magnets until I found a postcard showing Diamond Head Crater on Oahu. It was the last card I had received from Gloria Dayton. I took it off the magnetic clip and read the back of it.

Happy New Year Mickey Mantle!

Hope you are doing fine. All is well here in the sun. I hit the beach every day. You are the only thing about L.A. I miss. Come see me one day.

Gloria

My eyes drifted from the words to the postmark. The date was Dec. 15, 2011, almost a year ago. The postmark, which I’d had no reason to ever look at before, said Van Nuys, California.

I’d had a clue to Gloria’s subterfuge on my refrigerator for nearly a year but I didn’t know it. Now it confirmed the charade and my unwitting part in it. I couldn’t help but wonder why she’d bothered. I was just her lawyer. There was no need to lead me on. If I’d never heard from her, I would not have been suspicious or come looking for her. It seemed oddly unnecessary to me and even a bit cruel. Especially the last line about coming to see her. What if I had come over at Christmas to escape the disaster of my personal life? What would’ve happened when I landed and she wasn’t there?

I walked over to the trash can, stepped on the pedal to raise the lid, and dropped the card in. Gloria Dayton was dead. Glory Days was over.

I took a shower, holding my head under the hard spray for a long time. More than a few of my clients had come to a bad end over the years. It came with the territory, and in previous cases I always looked at the loss in terms of business. Repeat clients were my bread and butter, and knowing I had lost a customer never left me with a good feeling. But with Gloria Dayton it was different. It wasn’t business. It was personal. Her death conjured a raft of feelings, from disappointment and emptiness to upset and anger. I was mad at her not only for the lie she had perpetrated with me but for staying in the world that ultimately got her killed.