Rosie shouted at the phone. “Huh? That’s what you must be looking at since YOUR HEAD IS UP YOUR ASS!” An impressively large gob of spittle shot from the woman’s mouth and hit the computer monitor. She picked up the phone and slammed it down. Mary heard a dial tone and then nothing.
The woman turned to Mary. “Sorry about that, but we were playing the Jenkinses,” the woman said. She lowered her voice. “I can’t stand Rhonda Jenkins. The woman is a total bitch. And I absolutely despise losing to her.”
“A competitive drive,” Mary said. “That’s good. So listen, my uncle was murdered,” she said. “Brent Cooper?”
The woman’s mouth snapped shut. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” the woman said.
“Don’t worry about it. I just want to see his apartment,” Mary said. “Condo. Whatever you call it.”
“I’m sorry about that yelling,” the woman’s face had turned red.
“Hey, don’t apologize,” Mary said. “You’re entitled to enjoy your Golden Years any way you want to,” Mary said.
“Tell that to the jackass upstairs,” the woman mumbled.
“My uncle’s apartment…” Mary said.
The woman shook her head. “The police said I can’t let anyone in. They’ve been in and out of there a couple times. It’s sealed shut.”
“I’m sure they didn’t mean everyone,” Mary said. “Family is certainly allowed in.”
“Um…I don’t know…”
Mary whipped out her p.i. license which she’d put into a slick little leather number that let her flash it like detectives flash their badge. There was something about flashing a badge that made people more…malleable.
“Not only am I a grieving family member,” Mary said. “I’m also working as an adjunct with the police. So you actually have to open his condo for me.” She wasn’t really sure what an adjunct was, but she knew the term was vague enough to avoid any charges of falsely impersonating a cop. But hell, Sergeant Davies did that every day and never got busted.
“Okay, okay. Nothing’s more important than family,” the woman said. An interesting comment coming from a woman who had just finished verbally abusing her husband, Mary thought.
The woman reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a set of keys. “By the way, my name is…”
“Rosie,” Mary said. “Your husband mentioned it when you two were chatting.”
“And you are…”
“Mary. Mary Cooper.” They shook hands and then Rosie led the way to the elevators. On the wall across from the office a bulletin board held flyers for classes and programs offered to the residents of Palm Terrace. Rosie noticed her looking at the board.
“People think us old folks just sit around and watch the Wheel of Fortune,” she said. “That’s bull. We write, we paint, we take classes…”
“Any anger management courses up there?” Mary said.
Rosie shot her a look but then the elevator doors opened.
“You remind me of Brent,” Rosie said.
“No need to get nasty,” Mary said.
The door was posted with an LAPD notice, but it wasn’t sealed. Mary thought it was probably because it wasn’t technically a crime scene. In any event, Rosie used her key and opened the door, then followed Mary in.
“Do you mind if I stay?” Rosie said.
Mary did actually mind, but she wasn’t about to antagonize Rosie and have her put in a call to the LAPD about a nosy niece. Besides, Mary wanted to keep an eye on Rosie until she was gone.
“Make yourself at home,” Mary said. “Throw a fondue party. I don’t mind.” Mary said, and took a look around.
There wasn’t much to see. A small, outdated kitchen. A decent sized living room with a leather couch and beige carpet. There were some posters on the walls, old handbills of comedy shows Uncle Brent had probably been involved in. She couldn’t help but a feel a little bit of pride for the old man. He may have been abrasive, but he could be pretty damn funny. It pissed her off to see the apartment, see the small amount of success her uncle had experienced. To see how he’d put it on display, and to know that someone had cut his life short. And for what?
Mary followed a short hallway that led to a bathroom and two bedrooms. And that was it. She didn’t honestly know what she expected to find. Some letters threatening his life? A diary filled with notes about a person wishing Brent harm? A damning piece of evidence that would let her wrap up this case and get back on with her life?
Yeah, that would happen right around the same time she and the Shark would become