either in or out of it over the years, from what I understand. Tiffany was his wife. Ed’s his son. I heard he was married once before. But beyond that, Don didn’t have much real family. But he was Uncle Don to a lot of people. Like me, I guess. People he took under his wing. He really wasn’t a bad guy, despite what some people said about him. He was like a father to me.”
There was a strange mixture of innocence and weariness in her voice, and it made me wonder how old she was. She could have been seventeen, but her body said twenty-five. I asked the only thing I could think of. “So how long have you lived here?”
She thought about it for a second. “About three and a half years. I moved in on my eighteenth birthday. Don said I couldn’t move in until I was eighteen.”
I did the math quickly and tried to process her comments. The whole thing made me want to ask a million questions that had nothing to do with why I was there. I took my hands out of my pockets and really wished I had something to write with. A list of names wouldn’t do me a damned bit of good if I couldn’t write it down. Rather than stand there like an idiot, I asked, “What about your family?”
She smirked and rolled her eyes. “If you saw the shithole I grew up in out in Northridge, you’d move into a place like this the first chance you got. Believe me.”
I had to stop myself with that. I ran my eyes over the smooth curves of her calves as she crossed her legs and turned toward me. “So, back to the party,” I said. “Who was here. We’d like to chat with as many people as possible who might have seen the cops arrive. Who might have seen anything at all?”
She took a deep breath and started rattling off names. “Well, Pete was in the room when Don got shot. I was just outside the room. I’d been talking to Pete right before it happened. Then there was Duffy, and Rick and Tony. Most of the girls were here.” She proceeded to rattle off a dozen more names that I knew I would never remember. I’d obviously have to go over the list with her again sometime. It was a thought I enjoyed more than I knew I should.
When she was done, I asked, “What were you and Pete talking about right before it happened?”
“Nothing, really. I was pretty drunk. I think I was just pestering him. He got kind of annoyed and said he needed to talk to Don alone and they went into the office.”
“Do you know what they were talking about?”
She shook her head and shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Pete. Pete and Don were always having private conversations, ever since Pete started coming around a few years ago. They were weird together. Don always gave Pete a lot of attention. So, anyway, they went into the office to talk and a minute later Don got shot.”
“Where were you when it happened?”
“I was back in the living room. No one even noticed the gunshot. Just all the sudden Pete came running into the room with blood all over his hands. He was hysterical. Then the two cops came running in from the deck. Then all hell broke loose. When people saw the cops they thought it was a bust.”
Brianna’s eyes shifted to look at something behind me and I turned to see Jendrek lumbering across the deck. He was wearing a cynic’s grin, and he ran his fingers through his gray hair, swooping it back over his head. I could see his eyes darting back and forth between Brianna and me. He was obviously more interested in her.
I made the introductions. “Mark, this is Brianna Jones. Ms. Jones, this is Mark Jendrek.”
She held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mark.”
Jendrek grinned down at her and then gave me a sideways glance, beaming and bright-eyed. “The pleasure is ours,” he said. He gave me a look that said we had to go, so I took out a business card and handed it to Brianna.
“I’m sure I’ll be back in touch to ask you some more questions about the party. But in the meantime, if you remember anything at all that you think we should know, call anytime. My cell number is on here as well.”
She took the