Who Killed Jenny Schecter? Ch. 27

"I hear you, Jack," Lauren grinned. "Say, if I come back to homicide, can I get a raise? Nights and weekends off?"

"Absolutely," Jack said. "Work 9 a.m. to 3 or 4 p.m., beat the rush hour traffic, take two hours for lunch. I'll give you a corner office, windows on two walls."

"Deirdre, take this psychopath out of my office," Marybeth said. Everyone laughed, and Jack and Deirdre stood up to go.

Jack stopped in front of Shane and Carmen. He wasn't smiling. "You two have done good. But listen, if Lauren tells you to back away, run away, you do what she says, not even immediately but even sooner than that. You're civilians, you have no badges, no guns, no training. Either of you own a gun? Carry one? Got a carry permit? No, I didn't think so. Anything happens to either of you, it's Lauren's ass, Marybeth's ass, and my ass, and of the three, mine's the prettiest. We on the same page? I need you to make affirmative noises."

"Same page, yessir," Shane said.

"Do I have to agree to the part about the prettiest ass?" Carmen asked.

"You betcha," Jack said, turning to go. "Marybeth, keep us posted," he said over his shoulder as he went down the hall.

"What's wrong with my ass?" Deirdre asked herself. "Later, Marybeth," she said, walking down the hall.

***

"Lauren, kick the door shut, please. Thanks," Marybeth said. "Shane, spit it out. I can see from the look on your face you're pissed. I'm sorry. They had questions about you, and you didn't need to be in the room. They didn't want you in the room. It's as simple as that. If you want to blame someone, blame me. Lauren and Carmen didn't know about it."

"I'll get over it," Shane said, "and yeah, I figured they didn't know. I'm not even mad at you. I guess I just get tired being a suspect. And I feel like a fifth wheel, like I'm a drag on the investigation. Like I'm not pulling my weight."

"Okay, I understand," Marybeth said. She glanced at Lauren and Carmen. "You guys just shut up. I got this." She paused, getting Shane's full attention.

This ought to be good, Carmen thought.

"First, Shane, knock off the self-pity shit. The mere existence of this investigation is solely and completely because of you. It was you who roped in Carmen, and both of you who roped in me. And because of that we've re-opened Jenny's murder case, we're going to get Alice out of jail, we now have Max's murder to work on, which none of us even knew about, and we probably have two more murders in Mexico we didn't know about. And finally, in a couple of days we may very well have the killer's DNA and, god willing, maybe even a fingerprint. We have exposed and documented a major blackmail scheme no one else but Niki -- no one else alive, anyway -- knew about. And she'd have never come clean about it if it weren't for this investigation. Shane, about ninety-nine point ninety-eight percent of that is on your shoulders. And since you and Carmen both know the same batch of major players, you have just as much insight into the people and personalities as she does. So, please, try to spare us the self-pity, okay? We are a long, long way from finishing this thing, and you have just as much valuable input as anyone else."

And you're about to have a helluva lot more if the DNA comes back as Gabe's, Lauren, Carmen and Marybeth all thought to themselves, but couldn't say.

"Okay," Shane said. "Thanks. I'm sorry if I was Debbie Downer."

"Don't worry about it," Marybeth said. She glanced at her watch. "It's lunchtime, and it's Friday. I think you guys should go out, have a nice, long, maybe liquid lunch somewhere, maybe somewhere the waves are lapping at the shoreline, and not come back to work until Monday morning. You've been working long hours, no thanks to Lauren waking you people up at four or five o'clock in the morning. Lauren and Carmen have already worked a seven-hour day and its only lunchtime. You guys have weekend plans?"

"I'm DJing a quincinera tomorrow," Carmen said. "It's the daughter of my oldest sister's best friend. It's been on my calendar, I swear I'm not kidding, for a year. We checked my cruise calendar eight or ten months ago to make sure I was gonna be available. I should start prepping for it."

"Shane?"

"I've got a cocktail party thing tonight I have to go to, and two events tomorrow, and one Sunday afternoon," Shane said.

"Jesus," Marybeth said. "You guys are workaholics. I though us cops were bad. I thought EYE was bad. Okay, I'm changing my previous suggestion that you get out of here to an outright order. You, too, Lauren. Go on, beat feet. Try to get some food, drink, sex, rest, and sunshine, not necessarily in that order. See you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Monday morning. Go. Go."

When they left Marybeth took out a rubber glove, carefully removed from the trash can the bottle of water Shane had been drinking from, put it in an evidence bag, filled out the request for DNA from saliva traces under the cap, and gave it to one of her people to rush it to the crime lab immediately. They'd need Shane's DNA to test paternity against any DNA on the cigarette butts they'd found in Scofield's garage.

***

They went to the conference room to straighten up their things and depart for the weekend. Shane finished first, and hung around by the door. "I'll walk out with you," she said.

Carmen's face showed the tiniest flash of annoyance, and of course Shane, of all people, saw it.

"Uh, I wanted to talk to Lauren for a second," Carmen said. "I'll be right with you." It was now her turn to see a look of annoyance on Shane's face. "And no, it wasn't to talk about you. It has nothing to do with you."

"That's not what I was thinking."

"Then no, we're not sleeping together."

"Hey, guys, don't do this," Lauren said quietly. "I can hear you, you know. I'm in the room."

"Shane, I was going to ask Lauren if she wanted to come over for dinner tonight. The quincinera is tomorrow and Mom is having about nine hundred people over for dinner tonight. Some friends and relatives from out of town. I thought Lauren might like to meet some of them, and they'd like to meet Lauren. It's as simple as that. I just didn't want to have that conversation in front of you. I'd invite you, too, but, you know. Mom would shoot you on the spot. So would ten or fifteen of my relatives and in-laws. Okay? You happy now?" She spun to Lauren. "Would you like to come for dinner? There's gonna be a bunch of people. They'd like to meet you. And of course, there's always Mom's cooking."

Lauren looked from Carmen to Shane and back to Carmen. Shane turned away abruptly and walked down the hall toward the elevator. "See you Monday," said over her shoulder.

"Well, that was awkward," Lauren said.

Carmen said nothing, staring at the tabletop in front of her. She was biting her lip.

"What time?" Lauren asked.

Carmen looked up, and let a moment go by. "Six."

"Okay. Can I bring anything?"

"To my Mom's house? Salad, dessert, wine? Is that what you mean?" She was laughing now, finally. Lauren grinned. "We have enough food and drink on hand to feed half the barrio. You can bring Pepto and your strap-on, if you want. Other than that, Mom's got it covered."

Lauren smiled and nodded. The smile faded.

"What?" Carmen asked.

"Shane thinks we're sleeping together," Lauren said.

"I know. So what?"

Lauren shrugged. "I don't know. So nothing, I guess."

"I also wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to the quincinera. Have you ever been to one? I thought it might be an interesting cultural experience for you if you've never been to one. There'll be a ton of food, partying, and I hear they've got the hottest, smokin' DJ this side of the Mississippi. C'mon, it'll be fun."

"Don't you think it might be a little awkward? You bringing someone home to meet the family?"

"I know. And it worked out so well last time I did that. Seriously, no one will think anything. You've already met half of them, and most of them know about the investigation. But hey, if you don't want to, that's okay, too. No pressure."

"Won't they be uncomfortable with a police officer on the premises? Even off duty?"

"Only if you're wearing your gun and a flak jacket. You'd leave them in the car, right? Anyway, there will be two Marines and an assistant Orange County DA there. She's the quincinera girl's aunt, I think, I'm not sure. But no, it won't matter to anybody."

Lauren thought it over. "Okay, what time? When and where?"

Carmen told her. "You heading out now?" she asked. "Marybeth told us to get the hell outa Dodge."

"I know. But I have a couple things I have to do. I need to put Gabe McCutcheon into the system, put out a BOLO, do a search, all that kinda good stuff. I couldn't sleep a wink if I left it all wait until Monday. I also want to open up communications with whoever we need to talk to down in Ensenada. They may have an open missing persons lost-at-sea case they don't know could be a double homicide."

"Sounds like you could be here until midnight."

"Oh, no. I'll be out of here in time to go home, shower, put a couple drops of seductive perfume behind my shell-like ears, strap on my strap-on and be at your mom's house by ten of six. Remember, I'm motivated to be there."

Carmen laughed. "Wow, I guess you are! What are you wearing, your snow white Don Johnson blazer with the purple T-shirt, or the pale, pale robin's egg blue Don John blazer with the puce T-shirt?"

"Am I really that predictable? I must be in a rut. No, I was thinking of letting my freak flag fly a little. I was thinking about coming naked except for my strap-on under my Clint Eastwood Good-Bad-Ugly serape. What do you recommend, flip-flops or fuck-me pumps?"

Carmen closed her eyes, savoring the vision.

"Too much of a fashion statement?" Lauren asked.

"Not for me," Carmen said. "I have to run home now and take a very, very cold, longer-than-usual shower. See you at six. Bye!"

***

Carmen's phone rang a few minutes after 11 on Sunday night. "'Lo?"

"Hey, Car, it's Lauren. Did I wake you?"

"Uh, not quite. I was in bed, lights out, just about to go to sleep after having sex."

"Oh. Hope it was good." Lauren didn't know if Carmen was kidding or not.

"The best word might be 'workmanlike.' Or perhaps, 'adequate.'"

"Not up to your usual standards. Anybody I know?"

"My fuck buddy, Mr. Hitachi."

"I've heard of him. He gets around, although I missed him at the quincinera. How was he?"

"Like most actual men. Quick, efficient. Emotionally unavailable. No foreplay. Like I said, adequate. Unlike a real guy, he never gets soft and I have to manually turn him off. Then he rolls over and goes to sleep."

"They should invent one of those things that gets you off and then cuddles for half an hour. They could make it talk to you, like Siri and Alexa. 'Wow, that was amazing. You're incredible. And did you like the flowers I had special-delivered to your office?'"

"It would sell faster than the new iPhone. I'd get one, the lesbian version."

"Me, too."

"Since we're sexually bantering, I take it this phone call wasn't an emergency?"

"No, no emergency. But I just got some news, and I couldn't wait until morning, I had to call you."

"The DNA results came back."

"Yep. And we have a match."

"Oh, my god," Carmen whispered.

Gabe McCutcheon had killed Jenny. Max, too. Carmen knew in her bones it was true.

"Can we use it in court?"

"No. It's just some cigarette butts, and we can't even date when they were dropped into the jar. The DNA match isn't even good enough for a case where we can establish time and location very well. They think they're maybe two years old, but even that's not clear."

"Do they know what kind of cigarette?"

"Marlboro."

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah, just about the most common kind there is. Do we know what Gabe McCutcheon smoked?"

"I don't. Maybe Shane might. The night before the wedding fiasco, he and Shane went out for a drink, and they would have lit up. But we have to think about how we ask her, and how we tell her what we've found."

"Yep."

There was silence.

"What are you thinking?" Lauren asked.

"I thought you were going to ask me what I'm wearing."

"I know what you're wearing. I'm trying hard not to think about it."

"Uh-huh, I bet. Well, what I'm wearing and what I'm thinking are just about the same: Not much of anything. I want to process it all. Gabe killed Jenny and Max, he was the blackmailer, but we can't prove it."

"Not yet we can't, but we will. First we have to find him."

"Shane might be able to help with that, too."

"Think so? She'd help get her father arrested?"

"For murdering her best friend and lover? Fucking A she would. And for a lot more besides that. Conning ten grand from Helena. Fucking up our wedding. Dumping her brother on her, then yanking him back. For being a general asshole. You bet she would."

"Good, good. One other thing. I just wanted to tell you the quincinera was fun, and thanks for inviting me. Friday night dinner, too."

"Oh, you're welcome. Glad you had a good time."

"Anybody say anything about me? You and me, I mean? Maybe I'm paranoid, but I got the impression a few people were sizing me up. Is she or isn't she."

"Yeah, they probably were. Everybody knows I'm out, way, way out, now, ever since the wedding thein went south. Since then, I could help a ninety-nine year old widow in a wheel chair across the street, and half the barrio would wonder, 'Hmm. I wonder if Carmen's doing her.'"

Lauren laughed.

"My sister caught my eye, nodded her head at you, and raised her eyebrow. That means, 'Well, are you?' And I laughed at her and shook my head no. Then she made a sorrowful, sad, crying, face. So it was an entirely wordless conversation that only sisters can have. Later I was dancing with my brother-in-law, and he said, out of the clear blue sky, 'I don't know if you are, but I would, in a heartbeat.' I said, 'Pablo, what are you talking about?' But I knew, and he knew, so I said, 'Hey, take your best shot at her.'"

"Oh, thanks."

"He never would. For one thing, he still loves Patricia like a teenager, and anyway she'd cut his balls off, and he knows it. It was all just kidding each other."

"I figured."

"But now that you mention it only two or three times, remind me why we aren't sleeping together?"

"Oh, that. It's because I am a highly professional law enforcement officer conducting a serious murder investigation, and Marybeth and Jack and the ADA would have my ass on a platter, and not in a good way. Kind of like when you are off being Julie on the Love Boat and management doesn't want you fucking passengers. I mean, you yourself told me that. Well, my management doesn't want me fucking people I'm working a case with. Or suspects, either, not that you are one."

"Good to know," Carmen said. "I was worried it was something really serious, like maybe you aren't attracted to women with three tits."

"You have three tits? I never noticed."

"I don't like to brag. Was there anything else?"

"I could also mention that I live in Los Angeles and you live in San Francisco, which is only slightly closer than your other heart-throb who lives in San Diego, and living 400 miles apart makes Date Night problematic. I think you're the one who told me that. And you're at sea eight or nine months in a row, and I work nights and weekends and irregular but very long hours, and neither one of us could go that long. Well, I could, because, you know, I am a Woman of Steely Discipline. And if we got it on, you would fall hopelessly in love with me, and when you're at sea like the Ancient Mariner you would pine for me and neglect your work, and who wants a cruise director and DJ who has a poor attitude, is all mopey and distracted and feeling sorry for herself, and quite possibly even suicidal from acute, chronic, unrequited horniness. They probably would have to fire you. I know I would."

"I understand completely," Carmen said. "You don't want me to jeopardize my job. You're only thinking of what's best for me."

"Exactly."

"So it's nothing personal."

"Well, I don't much like your mom's cooking. I don't want that to come between us."

"You are such a liar."

"I know! I think the reason you caught on was I'm not very good at it. It's the same reason I don't beat confessions out of suspects. I punch 'em and then I run to get some band-aids and a bag of ice to put on the bruise. In the police academy, I failed Good Cop/Bad Cop and had to go to summer school. What gave me away?"

"I saw you eat three helpings of her Achiote-seared gambas with habanero pickled onions and then lick the plate."

"Dead give-away, huh?"

"That part about being a highly professional law enforcement officer was good. I very nearly bought about five percent of it."

"I didn't know you were that gullible. By the way, the quincinera was the first time I caught your DJ persona. You were fantastic. I see now why you were the hottest, smokin'est DJ that LA ever saw. LA's loss is San Francisco's gain. The cruise line, too."

"Oh, now you're gonna make me blush."

"I wish. How long have you been DJing?"

"Since right after high school. It's a long and sordid story. Maybe I'll tell you some time."

"Sordid? Oh, god, I wish you hadn't told me that part. Now I can't wait."

Carmen laughed, and started singing the Carly Simon song, "Anticipation ... is making me waiting... ."

"Oh, you bitch. Okay, I'll let you go back to your sex orgy. Mr. Hitachi has had time to rest up. Maybe he's ready for a second round."

"Very funny."

"Hey, Car?"

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to say, you're the one who broke this. Most of the good ideas and leads were yours."

"Uh, no, I ... uh..."

"No. This was mostly all you. I know it, Marybeth knows it. She was right Friday when she said it was all Shane who started it. But once it got started, it was you. You did good, kid."

"Well, thanks, I guess."

"Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

"Okay. Hey, what are YOU wearing? You alone, or do you have an appliance nearby? A weaponized Sybian, maybe?"

"A Sybian? I don't need a steenkin' Sybian. Piper Perabo said she might drop over tonight, so I put it in the closet."

"Bitch," Carmen said. "Now you're making me both horny AND jealous." She heard Lauren's quiet laugh as the phone call disconnected.

Piper Perabo. Carmen had long had a crush on Piper. Carmen turned Mr. Hitachi back on.

***

Carmen and Lauren were sitting in Marybeth's office at 10 a.m. Monday morning when Shane arrived. Lauren had texted Shane and asked her to meet in Marybeth's office, because they had news to share. Carmen and Lauren had arrived at 9:30 so the three of them could discuss what they wanted to tell Shane, and how. Marybeth's door was open, so Shane walked right in.

"Hey, guys," Shane said. She looked around the room and saw their faces. "What's wrong?"

"We've got some news," Marybeth said. "Close the door. Come sit down."

Shane closed Marybeth's door and sat in the chair between Lauren and Carmen. "I've got bad vibes," she said. "Tell me."

"We think we know who killed Jenny and Max," Marybeth said. "There's no easy way to tell you. We think it was your father."

Shane looked at Marybeth, her face blank. She said nothing. She was processing. A minute went by, and Marybeth was about to say something, but Carmen made a tiny, almost unnoticeable hand gesture, stop, that both Lauren and Marybeth caught. They said nothing.

A tear ran down Shane's cheek. "That motherfucker," she whispered. "Motherfucker. Motherfucker. Motherfucker. I'll kill him." She turned toward Carmen. "I will. I'll fucking kill him."