Body Copy - Michael Craven [86]
B O D Y C O P Y
He pulled out the little piece of paper Evan Mulligan had given him, the one with his number on it, and dialed him up. Tremaine sat in his car, concentrating on the matter at hand but looking at an old poster in the window of 20/20
Video for Blade II. Tremaine was in a stare-down with a Mohawk-sporting Wesley Snipes vampire when Evan said,
“This is Evan.” The standard at-work hello.
“It’s Donald Tremaine,” Tremaine said.
There was no immediate response from Evan. But then, just before the silence became an awkward silence, Evan said, “Sure, the P.I. I didn’t expect you to call. So quickly, anyway.”
Tremaine said, “I was hoping to talk to you a little more.” Tremaine, measuring very carefully his words.
Making sure not to say too little, not to say too much.
“Um, okay. What about?”
“About Dean Latham.”
“Dean Latham? The guy you asked me about? I told you, I don’t know him.”
This is where Tremaine had to be careful, had to make sure that what he said had the right result. Tremaine said,
“Dean Latham was having an affair with your former girlfriend, Kelly.”
What Tremaine got in response was another pause.
Now Evan exhibited a little edge, just a slight one, but it was there, as he said, “Okay. So? Are you calling to tell me I was wrong about her not being involved with someone?
Dude, I was just telling you what I thought.”
“Listen, Evan, will you meet me to discuss this further?
I want to tell you a few things, but I think we should meet in person.”
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“Listen, I don’t know Dean Latham, and if you’re sure Kelly was having an affair with him, then maybe you should look into him. But if you have questions for me, can’t you just ask me now?”
“This is about more than Dean Latham,” Tremaine said, at this point choosing his words with total precision, choosing them so they’d have just the right effect on Evan Mulligan. He said, “This is about how Dean Latham’s affair with Kelly led to her murder. I want to talk to you before I talk to the police, before I talk to anyone.”
“Why?”
“Because you can help me determine if I’m right.”
“Right about what?”
“Right about who killed her.”
“Where do you want to meet?”
“Wherever you want.”
Evan paused. Then he said, the edge in his voice gone now, “Why don’t I come to you. I don’t want any more memories of my girlfriend’s murder to be in my house.”
Tremaine said, “Do you know where Crystal Point is, in Malibu?”
“The public beach?”
“Yeah,” Tremaine said. “Why don’t we meet there.
There’s a couple benches, and they light up the sitting area at night. You can leave your memories there.”
“What time?” Evan said.
Tremaine hung up the phone, the Blade II poster still stared at him. The hustle and bustle around Rubio’s and the surrounding shops seemed liked a cartoon, everybody going on about their day, while he sat in a hot 1971 Oldsmobile Cutlass contemplating a case where he hadn’t had 272
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much help all along from the little things most detectives, private or otherwise, called facts.
Tremaine pulled out of the little parking lot, seeing the signs for 20/20 Video and Rubio’s Fish Tacos and the nail salon getting smaller and smaller in his rearview as he headed back to his trailer park, back home.
That night, as Tremaine drove to Crystal Point to meet Evan, he smoked a cig and tried to shut out the thoughts in his head. He knew now was the time to trust himself.
As he’d done so many times on the big waves back in the day. Trust yourself, Tremaine. It might seem crazy, what you’re about to do, but trust yourself, your mind is made up. Trust yourself.
Yeah, just enjoy the night air and drive, he told himself.
He looked out at the PCH, caught glimpses of familiar settings, noticed a Ford Mustang in his rearview. But the encroaching thoughts, the what-ifs, he tried to keep out of his mind. The work it took to shut it all out miraculously allowed him to relax a little.
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Tremaine pulled the Cutlass into Crystal Point, into the Malibu beach park. The lights the city had set up shone but didn’t cast