Peppermint Soul (Liza McNairy Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  "You're going to die tonight, Mr. Johm. Before you go, I need to you tell me everything you know about the twins."

  "Okay, lady... I knew those twins. Please don't shoot me again."

  He detested it when people started to whine, and here he was. Begging for his life. Just like they all did when they knew the end had come. He always told himself that death didn’t scare him. But it did. He was terrified. What if there really was a hell waiting for people like him?

  Jesus, I'm heartily sorry for having offended thee... for all those years I didn’t believe in You. Please take this crazy woman away. Let me live another day... maybe two. I'll be better. I promise. I won't hurt anyone ever again. I'll change. You know I will. I'll be the best man you ever saw. Please, Jesus, in the name of all that's holy, help me.

  "Good. Now we're making progress. Go ahead. Unburden your soul, Mr. Johm. Tell me more. Tell me everything you know. You're going to anyway."

  Chapter 20—Failing

  (Even at Failure)

  1

  He hated when she just took off like that. He wasn’t even sure if her driver's license was still valid. All he needed was for her to get picked up. Paula knew he'd take her anywhere she needed to go. Instead, he came home to an empty house and not even a note telling him where his wife had gotten to. He liked to be in control. That's what a man did. Wasn't it? He made the world a safe place for his family. Had he failed? Maybe. But like today he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

  It'd been a mistake to say anything about Johm. He knew that now but at the time he couldn’t see the harm. The name just came out of him before he could think. The drink. Goddamned booze anyway. Maybe he'd changed names again. Like he changed bodies. The kid had a knack for being in the right place at the right time... he had to give him that. That he was dating both his daughters at the same time and neither knew about the other seemed ludicrous at first. Why had he let it go on? That was the real question. He supposed he saw himself in Johm, or who he'd like to have been at that age.

  Allen fixed another drink—extra strong—and stared out the window even though he couldn’t see anything outside, out there in the darkness. Headlights. He was watching for Paula. Like he used to do, back when things had nearly gotten out of control. He didn’t like to think about those days. They haunted his dreams, however, and once lodged in his psyche stayed with him for weeks, sometimes months.

  She'd found someone else. Some asshole she worked with, or so she said. It'd been wrong to even let her take a job but they needed the extra income what with the business floundering and the girls growing older and the private school they attended being as expensive as it was. It all took money. So when Paula asked him about taking a position at the hospital as a physician's assistant at a good salary he couldn’t see the downside.

  She'd been a good looking woman in those days. Kept herself in shape. Even today she could put herself together. The years of drug abuse had sullied her, or perhaps she'd just gotten old on him. Still, a little makeup and she was one fine looking woman. Back then, he grew jealous if a man even looked at her, much less had a conversation with her. She used to get pissed about it, but fuck her. She'd led a sheltered life. She didn’t know about men. How they could be. What they wanted.

  "I have to tell you something, Allen."

  He still remembered her exact words. How sorry she was. The same old yada yada. It wasn’t him, it was her. She'd only done it the one time... never again. And always used a condom. All of it lies, and him knowing it even as she spoke. He'd been drinking before that, but mostly only weekend stuff, a binge now and again. Nothing serious. But thinking of Paula in the arms of another man, of him being inside of her, well... it made him physically ill.

  The liquor dulled the pain but didn’t quite quell it all together. His work started to suffer. Lost accounts that he couldn’t afford. Unhappy clients. Too many of them. He felt like a juggler in a circus who first dropped one ball and then another and pretty soon all those motherfuckers came crashing down around him, a hopeless rain, nothing but a mess.

  "Can you ever forgive me?"

  He honestly thought he could. They'd been married for how long? Forever. Right out of college. She was the only woman he'd ever been with, even to this day. He'd tried once. To screw someone else. Some whore he picked up in a bar. After Paula's infidelities. Her one time. To get back at her. But he couldn’t manage to do it. Yeah... Mr. limp dick, that was him. Hell, maybe it was better that way.

  He still loved his wife even though he should have left the bitch. Hired an attorney and divorced her loser ass. Hell, there was no community property to worry about. The house, mortgaged to the hilt. The cars, leased and due to be repossessed within weeks. The credit cards? All maxed out. He milked them for all they were worth. Called the companies and begged for larger credit limits and the fools obliged. Like they were in the habit of giving money away.

  So he took the only way out offered to him at the time. A long shot? Yeah. But the payoff was huge. Not only would it solve all the money problems but if the scheme worked his slut of a wife would learn the cost of fucking with Allen Picany. Not that she was smart enough to put it all together. But she'd know nevertheless.

  Moving to Santa Monica—to the tiny little house just off the beach—had made a profound impression on everyone in the family, including Paula. He had to hand it to her, though. She never once complained. Still, she no longer had her family over, either. She liked showing off the mansion in Malibu... not so much the little place in Santa Monica. That suited him fine. He never liked the in-laws much, though he wouldn’t have minded a run at the sister-in-law.

  Where the hell could she be tonight?

  2

  "Allen... wake up. The twins aren't home. Did you give them permission to stay over at one of their friend's houses? Allen?"

  He felt like he was coming out of a prolonged coma. Twins? What about the twins? What did Paula mean, they weren’t home? Didn’t she know? No, of course she didn’t. How could she?

  "Give me a minute, Paula..."

  "Goddamn it, Allen. Get up. Our daughters are missing."

  "They're not missing... they're with..."

  Who were they with? Jesus... what a dream.

  "So you know where they are? Come on, Allen... tell me."

  He really ought to quit drinking so much... either that, or find somewhere better to sleep it off than in his own bed. If he could just get a little more shuteye the headache would subside and his queasy stomach might settle. Paula knew how he got... she was being purposely obnoxious because he forgot to tell her... or rather, he couldn’t find the words.

  "What time is it, Paula?"

  "Time for you to get your ass out of bed and tell me where my daughters are. You know, don't you."

  "I can't remember. I think Missy said something about going over to one of her girlfriend's house."

  "You were drunk, as usual."

  "Well where were you, Miss High and Mighty? Out screwing some sleaze bucket again?"

  He was sorry as soon as the words were out of his mouth but there they were... the old suspicions rearing up again threatening to engulf their marriage. Was she really at work? Probably. But that didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of places to fuck your boss in a hospital.

  "You know damned well where I was, Allen. I trusted you with those girls. And what did you do? Get drunk. Hell... they could be anywhere."

  "I'm sure they're fine, Paula... and what did you expect? You come barging into my room screaming at me first thing in the morning. Of course I'm going to be cranky. I'm sorry I said that."

  "For your information, Allen... it's nearly noon. I'm calling the police."

  "The police? Why?"

  "To report our daughters missing. Their beds weren’t slept in last night and apparently you have no idea where they are. They're seventeen, Allen. What if..."

  "I'm telling you they're fine, Paula. Let me take a quick shower and we'll call around to their frien
ds. They're bound to be sleeping over. I'm sure they asked permission... I just can't

  3

  "Remember."

  How could he forget? They'd promised him the girls wouldn’t be harmed. His girls. But they lied. And he was in way too deep to be in a position where he might come to their aid. What kind of father did something like that to his own daughters? And why? To teach his ball busting bitch of a cheating wife a lesson?

  "I need your help, Hank. Something's happened to the twins. They're missing. I think..."

  "You think that Baker psychopath had something to do with it, don't you, Allen."

  "Yeah... I do. Can you do me a solid?"

  "You know I will, old buddy. I just hope it's not too late."

  But it had been. It'd been too late for years. It was the business they chose. Hank Lupo brought him in, promising to make him wealthy. But that was before Allen reckoned on the cost. Plucking strays off the street was one thing. But taking their own? No one clued him into that part. He'd simply assumed that sort of thing was off limits. But with the type of individuals they dealt with, he should've known better.

  The girls were just gone. Vanished without a trace. Did Paula suspect he had a hand in their disappearance? No... how could she even think such a thing? But there were times when he turned suddenly and caught her looking at him with something positively akin to hate bubbling up in her eyes and curling the edges of her mouth downward like the frown on a clown and he could swear she knew.

  It hadn’t been his fault. Not really. He never would've approved that scheme. They'd gone behind his back to work it. But of course no one would ever admit that to his face. Too late? Too late for what, Hank? But there was no need to ask that question. Allen knew the answer. And apparently it really was too late.

  He'd gone out looking for Jonathan Baker that night. Had he found him, Allen thought he might well have killed the boy. After making him tell about the girls, of course. Where they were. What he'd done to them. But Baker had seemingly vanished from the city. Everywhere Allen searched they said they hadn’t seen the boy lately. That he'd talked about taking a trip to Mexico. Did he have company? Two girls? Twins? No? Are you sure?

  A month later, Baker turned up dead. The kid had been the only real lead in Missy's and Melinda's disappearance and now he was gone too.

  Johm. Jesus, he hadn’t thought of that kid for twenty years. Nice boy. One of the few of the girls' boyfriends who Allen liked. Polite. Respectful. What was his first name? Or was that it? Whatever happened to him?

  Of course there'd never been a funeral for the girls. They'd simply sort of faded from the limelight. Once in a great while he'd run into some of their old friends and they'd ask about them. No, we're still looking. No news yet. But Johm? He'd never seen the boy again. Like he too dropped off the flat side of the earth.

  Johm. He hadn’t thought of that name for two decades... not until Danners Forthright wondered if the girls had any boyfriends. And that was the first name that came to him. He wished he'd thought of the name sooner... but now that he had, perhaps he could do a little research on his own. With a name like that, Johm couldn’t be too difficult to track down.

  Chapter 21—Overdosing

  (On Heaven)

  1

  Paula Picany surprised him by coming into the office and requesting all her records. Said she had decided to begin seeing another doctor. Steve Bertram, for God's sake... the quack over on Mulholland. The pill pusher extraordinaire. Of course he was one to talk. Though he tried reasoning with the woman, she was adamant. Had his assistant said something to piss her off? That had to be it.

  "I'm trying to wean myself off the Xanax, Dr. Olay. I appreciate all you've done for me over the years, but it's time."

  Sure. He'd heard that song and dance before. Most all his patients trotted it out every once in a while. Maybe it was a feel good moment for Paula. Hell, he couldn’t begrudge her that. But he figured she'd be back. They all came back, sooner or later. Yep. When she discovered the world was still just as big and bad as it always was, Paula'd be back.

  "Please be careful not to quit the Xanax cold turkey, Paula. There could be harmful side effects from a sudden withdrawal."

  Keep 'em laughing, make 'em think you care. That was how he handled all the women. Learned it years ago while going through medical school. Watching the old timers go through their rounds at the local hospital. Dry and coarse with the male patients but happy and frolicking with the females. Especially the young and pretty ones. Step into my parlor, Paula... allow me to fill your prescription. You know you want it.

  Then again perhaps the woman really was trying to dry out. She looked better than she had in years. Svelte. That was the word. Almost slinky. The thought of Paula Picany stretched out on his davenport in the back room surfaced not once but three times, especially when she bent over exposing that cleavage, those remarkable breasts.

  Had she had them done? If the light had been just a bit brighter he might have been able to tell but as it was the only way to find out was to examine the woman. Convince her she had developed some weird type of disease that only a breast exam could reveal. It'd worked in the past, at least on other women.

  Paula Picany smiled impishly as if to say maybe later, doctor. As if she might actually consider it. That was something. A bit of a victory. A bright sliver of future, perhaps. Or else she simply placated him to get her records. He hated giving her up as a patient but if he didn’t release her file the woman could make trouble. More than he needed right now. Let her go... that was the ticket. Sure, he could try sweet talking her but why bother?

  Had she heard something? Could be that rumors were spreading about his practice being in danger of being shut down and Paula Picany simply wanted to be assured of a supply of Xanax should his license be suspended. Like rats jumping a sinking ship. There was no loyalty anymore. Christ. He'd put his name on the line in order to help people like her and what happened? She deserted him when the going got tough.

  He fought down the urge to cuss her, to tell her what a cunt she was. Had to keep the temper in check. Couldn’t afford to let his feelings loose... not now, not yet. Too much might come out. Secrets. Things that could not only cause him to lose his right to practice medicine, but might well land his ass in prison for the remainder of his life. Yeah... that'd make dad proud. He'd roll right over in his goddamned grave.

  It was that smile of hers that set him off. Like she knew something. He wanted to grab her, to shake her like a child, to demand she tell him the truth. Slap it out of her if necessary, belittle her, bring the bitch down a notch. She seemed to sense his mood and actually revel in it. No fear. Not like he expected.

  "Don't worry, doctor... we'll stay in touch."

  It almost sounded like a threat. Was she on some sort of stronger drugs? Perhaps. Mixing and matching, most likely. Maybe she'd overdose. At least he could hope. Either way, he had to cut the woman loose. Even if she came back, he'd refuse to treat her. Of course it wouldn’t hurt to give her a physical exam... Christ, she was

  2

  Looking good today. Where had the time gone? Whenever he stopped for a moment and peered into the mirror, really looked, an old man stared back at him. When had that happened? And Paula Picany... twenty years ago he never would've paid the least bit of attention to a woman of that age. Now, here he was ready to cream himself over the thought of having her. Get a grip, Oscar... she's a patient of yours, or was. The authorities look askant at playing around with women you're treating and you know it. Especially the mentally fragile ones like Paula Picany.

  He'd take a trip. Clear his mind. Give the business a rest. Hell, he could afford it. Or rather, he couldn’t afford not to do it. Maybe jet to Europe. Spend January bumming around Germany and France. Take the Trans-Siberian Express across Russia. Pick up a few of those chicks from Ukraine. Drink gallons of vodka. Spend a week at Lake Baikal. Have some cheap thrills. He might even decide to stay in Russia. Buy a place on the Black Sea. Prope
rty there was cheap, or so he heard. So what if the entire country was a slum? That didn’t mean he had to live like that. Look at Los Angeles: ninety nine percent of it... pure ghetto.

  Once he'd made the decision to travel, he felt better than he had in ages. Leave the wife behind. All she did was nag. Hell, he must have bought her better than five million dollars worth of jewelry over the last few years... did she ever once thank him? No. Not even a nice sloppy blowjob. Just griped that she got this instead of that. The kids were the same way, all of them greedy wretches strung out on various kinds of dope they bought off the street. Not one of them knew what it was like to struggle... they'd all been pampered. He'd love to see what they'd do when the old man took off on their asses. Left them with nothing. It'd serve them all right.

  "Tell you what, Paula... give my assistant a little time to get all your records together. Perhaps you could stop back by the office sometime tomorrow? Say about six o'clock in the evening? I should have everything ready by then."

  "That'd be great, doctor. No hard feelings?"

  "None... I only want what's best for you. You know that, Paula. And if you ever feel the need to renew our acquaintance, you know how to reach me."

  "I do... I've got your private number."

  "Thanks again, Paula. I'll see you tomorrow at six."

  After entering down Paula Picany's name in the appointment log, Oscar poured himself a tumbler of Glenlivet, took a long pull from it, and then refilled the glass. From the window of his tenth floor office he could see the ocean frothy and blue on the horizon. The waves reminded him of the surfer girls. That's what they were called. No. The surfer twins. Whatever happened to them? Was Paula finally getting over the loss? He didn’t even want to imagine what it'd be like to lose a child, much less two of them.