Who Killed Jenny Schecter? Ch. 29

"Close the door," Lauren said. "Half the night shift in the building will be in here if they smell this."

They ate silently for a few minutes, because the food was just too good to talk. Lauren moaned several times. "You okay over there?" Carmen asked.

"Just having multiple orgasms," Lauren said. "I'll try to be quieter." A few minutes later she handed her empty plate to Carmen. "Do me again," she said. Carmen laughed, and gave her the second helping of chicken, rice and tortillas, and re-filled her own plate, too.

When they finally started to slow down eating, Lauren asked, "Back when you and Jenny were a thing, and you and Shane, did they get to eat your mom's food like I do? Did they gain 20, 30 pounds while they were dating you?"

"Jenny liked my mom's cooking okay, but she was never that big a fan of Tex-Mex and Southwest cooking. A nice Jewish girl from the Midwest. Shane loves it, as you know. Born and raised in Texas. But they never put on too much weight because I kept both of them on strict regimens of vigorous exercise."

"Fucking like rabbits. I should have guessed."

"I prefer to think of our workouts as healthy, invigorating cardio," Carmen said. "Want another beer? Foreplay? Slap-and-tickle on the conference table?"

"You have noticed we have an entire wall of glass windows," Lauren said. "You have noticed people walking by from time to time, right? Yes, I'll take another beer, but it's my last one. How many did you bring?"

"Just four. Were you making any progress while I was out?"

"No, not much. Just checking things and doing my day report. Nothing new on the BOLO, like we told Marybeth. I was just about ready to start on Carla."

"Well, if I can't help with the police work at least I can keep you supplied with coffee, food and neck massage, Tylenol, mopping the sweat from your brow. Be right back."

Carmen took the carton of dinner debris to her car, stopped in the break room to get two cups of coffee, and reappeared in the conference room. She handed one cup to Lauren and sat down to begin reading through the reports and files for the fourth or fifth time.

***

At 11:23 p.m. Lauren smiled at her computer screen. Slowly she stood up, linked her arms over her head, slowly twisting her torso and neck, working out the kinks and cricks. She looked over at Carmen, who was asleep, her head cradled in her arms on the conference table. Her mouth was slightly open and she was breathing deeply. Not snoring ... but almost. Lauren allowed herself a few moments of lewd thoughts and speculation, then snapped herself out of it. She walked over to Carmen, leaned down, shook her shoulder.

"Huh? Wha?" Carmen sat up in her chair, rubbed her eyes. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Sorry I fell asleep. What's up?"

"Time to go home. We have a big day tomorrow. Road trip."

"Oh. Okay." It took Carmen a minute to wake up all the way. She frowned. "You found her."

"Yup. Pack an overnight bag. We're going to Oregon."

***

"This better be good," Marybeth said, waking from a sound sleep to answer her cell phone.

"What are you wearing?" Lauren asked.

"Very funny. Wait a minute." Marybeth sat up, turned to sit on the side of her bed, turned on the lamp by her bedside. The "What are you wearing?" line told her it wasn't an emergency, no one was dead, so don't trigger the adrenaline rush. She glanced at the time: 11:44 p.m. She glanced back at her husband, sound asleep, oblivious. That was often the life of a law enforcement spouse. "Okay, I'm awake."

"I found Carla McCutcheon a few minutes ago. She lives in Oregon City, same town as when Shane visited them. It's a suburb of Portland. I want to fly up first thing in the morning."

"Okay," Marybeth said. "You still in the office?"

"Yes. You know what my next question is."

"You want to take Carmen along. And what about Shane?"

"Yes and yes. Who pays for their airfare and travel expenses. Room, food."

"We do," Marybeth said without hesitation. "It's a multiple murder case. Multiple jurisdictions. They've both met Carla, they may have insights and questions to ask her. Anyway, that's how I'll sell it upstairs, so don't worry about it. Just put everything on your expenses. It's late, but you still better call them."

"I'll call Shane. She's a night owl, anyway. Carmen just left here. I sent her home, told her to pack a bag."

"Carmen was there all night, too?"

"Yes."

"Doing what?"

"Reviewing files. Keeping me company, mostly. Fetching dinner, keeping me primed with caffeine. Sleeping."

"She really is a keeper, isn't she? Okay, what do you think about Shane coming along."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm not sure she'll want to talk to Carla. Carmen thinks there's still some bad blood between them."

"It may be tough on her, but I'd still like her to go with you, if she'll do it. Tell me what you found about Carla."

"She has a rap sheet in Oregon, some petty stuff, minor drug-dealing and using. She's been in and out of rehabs and jail a couple of times, all for drugs, starting when she was a teenager, and then later when she hooked up with Gabe. He did some scams and grifting, and she's named in a couple of them as his associate. They beat the grifting charges but both got nailed for drugs, mostly petty stuff. It looks like she finally got clean a few years ago, and is now a drug counselor with a rehab outfit in Oregon City."

"She got clean, finally? That sounds promising, like she'll cooperate."

"That's what I think, too," Lauren said. "It's mainly a question of whether she knows anything that would help."

"Yes. Okay, call Shane, go to Portland. It'll take you most of the day just to get there, rent a car, check in with both Portland and Oregon City police before you even get to Carla. Sounds like an overnighter. I'll call ahead in the morning, tell them you're coming. I'll see you when I see you. Check in as necessary."

"Will do."

"When you call Shane, just don't ask her what she's wearing."

***

Lauren called Shane and after a couple of rings it went to voicemail. Lauren was leaving a message when Shane called her back. Apparently she wasn't wearing anything.

"It's me," Shane said. "I didn't answer because I was in the shower. What's wrong? It's almost midnight."

"Sorry, not an emergency, nothing wrong. I didn't mean to get you worried."

"Oh. Okay. Just a minute," Shane said. Lauren heard her talk to somebody in the room. "I have to take this," Shane said to whoever it was, "throw me that towel." There was a pause, either Shane or the other person leaving the room. "Sorry, I'm back."

Yes, and not alone, Lauren thought, and equally predictably naked as well as wet. "No problem. I just got off the phone with Marybeth. I found Carla. She's working as some kind of drug rehab counselor in Oregon City. That's where they lived when you went up there, right? Anyway, I'm going up there first thing in the morning to talk to her, see if she knows anything about Gabe's whereabouts. Carmen's coming, and Marybeth would like you to come, too, if you can and if you're willing. I'd like it, too. I know you and Carla aren't on good terms, but you knew her, at least a little bit. And you're the one with the great Spidey senses, my reliable lie and bullshit detector. And you know were they lived, back when you visited them. I'd like to check out that residence. The department's paying, don't worry about expenses."

There was a long silence on the phone. Lauren didn't worry about it. Shane was processing.

"Fuck," Shane finally said. "Okay, I'm in. When are we coming back?"

"Probably day after tomorrow."

"I've got something tomorrow night but I'll have to cancel it. Did you find anything about Shay?"

"Shay?"

"My brother. Step-brother. Whatever."

"Oh. No, I wasn't really looking, but you're right, I should be. Good call. What's the last time you talked to him?"

"The day that asshole took him back away from me. I tried a couple times over the years to find him, but I'm not good at it. I never found out anything more about where he was. And I didn't want any contact with the asshole."

"I understand. I'll start on it. Meanwhile, I'm going to start booking our flight. I'll text you with details when I get something. I know it's late, but we can both get more sleep on the plane. I'd like to get to Oregon City as soon as we can."

"Okay. See you in the morning," Shane said.

"Good night," Lauren said.

"Roger, ten-four, copy that, over and out," Shane said.

Lauren laughed and hung up.

***

The first flight Lauren could get them left at 10:39 a.m. She picked up Shane and Carmen so they only needed to take one car to LAX. Because Lauren didn't want to go through the hassle and paperwork of carrying her gun on board -- especially since she had no good reason to do so, and because they didn't have time -- she had to put her overnight bag in checked luggage because it contained the hardened, locked case for her gun, empty clips, and the ammo she took out of the clips. They all had TSA Pre-Check, and a friendly TSA agent and Lauren's badge got them through quickly. Lauren got lucky on seating and booked seats as far forward as possible, so they boarded early, sat three across, and all fell asleep before the plane pulled away from the terminal. It was a two-and-a-half-hour flight and when they got off the plane they were starved.

"I'm was hoping to get down to Oregon City as soon as possible, but fuck it, I could eat a horse," Lauren said.

"I'm up for a palomino, maybe an Arabian on rye, swiss and spicy mustard," Carmen said.

"Spicy mustard. Who didn't see that coming," Lauren said. "Let's grab something fast." They saw Kenny and Zuke's deli near the security checkpoint at the juncture of Concourse B and C, and baggage claim was right downstairs. It was nearly 2 p.m. and there was no major lunch crowd. They wolfed down sandwiches and Carmen used Lauren's credit card to get their rental car while Lauren got her bag from baggage claim. Twenty minutes later they were on the 205 headed south, Lauren at the wheel and Carmen reading her Google map directions.

Carmen glanced over her shoulder at Shane, who was riding in the back behind Lauren. "You okay?" she asked quietly.

"It's gotta be done," Shane said. "I'll survive." She turned to look out the window. A minute later she said, "Carmen?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

Shane shrugged. Typically inarticulate. "Worrying about me, I guess."

This was one of those invisible, wordless conversations that Shane could have with no one but Carmen.

I know this is hard for you, dealing with Carla after she dumped Shay on you. I know it hurt when Gabe took him away. I know you are conflicted about Carla.

Thank you. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad I don't have to do this alone. I don't think I could do this alone.

Lauren's here, too, you know.

I know, and that's good. But she doesn't get me like you do. She doesn't know. How it hurts. She doesn't know ... me.

She knows. You just don't know she knows.

Uh ... okay, I guess. I know you guys have talked about me.

Yes, of course we have.

Does it bother you? About me and her? Way back ... when Harvey died? And ... afterward.

No, of course not. That was a decade before we ever met.

Uh, okay. Good.

I know what's bothering you. What you want to ask. Go ahead. It's all right. You can ask.

No, it's none of my business.

Right. It isn't. But it's driving you crazy. You think about it all the time. And here's what you don't want to ask, here's the question you don't want to --

Carmen, I'm not asking.

Yes, you are. Don't lie to me. No, change that. Don't lie to yourself. The answer you are so fucking of afraid isn't what you thought. Here it is. No. We aren't. We haven't. We want to. But we haven't. Not yet. Maybe not ever, even. Yes, we've thought about it. Are you fucking crazy? Of course we have. But she won't. She got burned once. I don't know. Maybe that's why she won't. Maybe 15 years ago she slept with somebody and got burned. I don't know. I'm not inside her head, like I am inside yours. But no. We haven't.

Okay. I shouldn't ... it's none of my business.

Stop saying that. It doesn't mean anything.

I'm sorry.

Stop apologizing. You are who you are. I accepted that a long time ago.

I ... I just never know what to say.

I know. It's not a problem. Let it go.

Lauren drove in silence. She knew there was a silent conversation taking place; it was like eavesdropping on two strangers speaking a foreign language, a language so foreign you couldn't even tell which one it might be. And she had to keep her eyes on the road, so there was no reading faces, no reading body language. But it was all right. She didn't have need to know.

***

Carla waited for them in the meeting room. There was a ring of folding chairs and at one end, near the door, there was a table with a full coffee station on it, coffee, hot water, tea bags, sugar, artificial sugar, powdered creamer, bottled water. Whatever it took to get you through the meeting.

They had checked in at the desk of the rehab center, where a bearded young man at the desk told them Carla's session still had a few minutes, and would they mind waiting? He said Carla had told him they were coming and were expected. Lauren didn't flash her badge; it didn't seem necessary. There was a bench across from the young man and his reception desk, but it was only large enough for two. Lauren and Carmen sat; Shane was too wired to sit. She stood, and read everything on the bulletin board. Menus, schedules, whatever. She had no idea what she was reading. The noise level inside her head was about a 4.

Lauren had called Carla that morning, a conversation as full of long silences as anything that passed between Shane and Carmen. Lauren explained who she was, and that she wanted to talk to Carla about Gabe's whereabouts. Carla said she had no idea. She could have asked Lauren what this was about, what had Gabe done now? But she didn't ask, and Lauren understood. She asked if she could come talk to her, and bring along two people she knew, Shane and Carmen. There was a long silence. "All right," Carla finally said. "Is 4 o'clock all right? I have group from 3 to 4."

Yes, Lauren said.

After a few minutes Carla's session ended, and a dozen people came out of the room, some talking quietly, some not at all. They ranged from 19 or 20 to mid-40s. Men and women. Some seemingly "normal," whatever that means, and some a little ... stressed. They were a cross section of America. Several nodded and smiled at Lauren, Shane and Carmen as they passed by. Lauren and Carmen could tell one or two of them were wondering who they were, which one was the addict. Most likely the anxious one reading the bulletin board. One young man looked at Lauren and made her as a cop, just as she made him. Sometimes people just know things, just as the hunted recognizes the hunter.

Carla stood when they entered. "The Three Amigos," she said.

"Carla, I'm Detective Lauren Hancock," Lauren said, coming forward to shake hands.

"Hey, Shane," Carla said. "You're looking well. Better than the last time, huh?" Carla was trying to be friendly.

"Carla," Shane said quietly. No shaking hands, no hugs. Carla understood.

"Hi, Carmen. Long time no see."

Carmen came forward, smiling, and shook Carla's hand. "Yeah, it's been a while."

"You guys have a good trip up? There's coffee, tea and water on the table. Help yourselves. Come on, don't be shy. I need a little caffeine myself." She went to the table, took a paper cup from a stack, and poured coffee into it from a tall coffee urn. "We go through this stuff here like you wouldn't believe." She had her back to them, putting powdered creamer and a packet of Sweet-and-Low into her cup. "So. What did the son-of-a-bitch do now?" She turned to face them. "Bad? Bad bad? Really bad bad bad?"

"He murdered four people," Lauren said.

Carla's hand froze, the cup halfway to her mouth. She lowered the cup, walked to one of the folding chairs in the circle, and sat down. Carmen went to the coffee station, poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Shane, who hadn't moved. Shane seemed to awaken, and went to put creamer and sweetener in it. Carmen poured another one and handed it to Lauren after she'd put creamer and sweetener in it. Then she made one for herself. Lauren sat one seat away from Carla, turned toward her. Shane sat across from them on the other side of the circle. Carmen sat down next to her.

They could all see Carla was processing it. "I was prepared for bad bad. Even really bad bad bad. But not that." She looked at Shane and Carmen, confused. "You two are here ... but I can't think why. Is it Shay? Is he all right? Did Gabe ... "

"So far as we know, it has nothing to do with Shay," Lauren said. "We don't even know where he is. Do you?"

Carla shook her head no. "I haven't seen him since ... since that night. When I left him at Shane's."

"Why not?" Lauren asked. "You're his mother."

Carla smiled sadly. "No," she said quietly. "No, I'm not."

Carmen caught her breath. Shane looked at Carla, her mouth half open. She was frowning.

"I'm sorry, Shane. I know we all lied to you. Even Shay, maybe. That part's complicated. But the lie had nothing to do with you."

"You better start at the beginning of all that," Lauren said.

Carla nodded. "I'd known Gabe off and on for, oh, 18, 20 years, something like that. We did drugs, way back when. He wasn't the one who got me hooked, but he kinda took over from the motherfucker who did. Over the years, we had this thing going, you know, shacking up, then breaking up, all the usual drama. Anyway, he taught me how to run scams. That's what we did, we were a grifter team. That is, when we were together, and straight enough to pull our act. Usually what happened was we'd pull off a scam, we'd have some money to buy drugs and one day he'd be gone, out fucking somebody else. I really had no idea. Didn't much care. Then he'd be back, we'd straighten up a little, pull another couple scams. Rinse, repeat. So anyway, one day he shows up, and he's got this kid with him. Shay. He was four years old. Who Shay's birth mother was I never knew and Gabe wouldn't talk about it. Anyway, I started shacking up with him, because Gabe needed this mother figure, and so I became Shay's quote unquote mother. We never told Shay to lie or anything, but we just told him to call me mom, I was his new mom, blah blah blah, and he believed it because he had no way of telling the difference. And a big part of the scam was just welfare stuff, getting assistance from the city and the state, you know, whatever we could. Food stamps, all that kinda thing. It helped to say I was his mother. Gabe knew a guy, and we got a forged Oregon birth certificate, me as the birth mother, and Gabe as my husband, because schools always want to see birth certificates. The thing is, I liked Shay, and I did my best to be a good stepmom. I think -- no, I know. He liked me, too. I don't know, maybe 'love' is too strong a word. Maybe not. Anyway, me being his mom was much more than the scam part."

She took a sip of her coffee. "So anyway, one day I was reading this magazine, and there was this article about Shane opening this beauty salon in a skateboard shop. All hip and trendy and pitched at young people, you know? The article made it sound real cool. And the name McCutcheon, right? So I showed it to Gabe, like, you know, hey, here's a coincidence. This woman has the same name as you, and her name's almost like Shay, too. And he looks at it and says, 'Yeah, that's my daughter, from back in Texas. I didn't know she moved to California.' So I say, 'So she's Shay's sister?' and he says, "No, half-sister.' And at first he seems uninterested, and then he picks the article up and starts reading. And the wheels start turning in his head. He says, 'I bet a business like that generates a lot of cash. Rich hippy kids at the beach.'"