Wrapping up the events of "Hot Dogs" here.
Disclaimer: I don't own Veronica Mars. If I did, I'd be richer than I am now.
X X X X X
Hmmm. That was a twist I never would've seen coming.
Why would Vanessa Mencken threaten Lynn Echolls? She got her money and she hadn't seemed deranged back when she was trying to blackmail Logan.
Of course, if everyone who was out of their mind acted like it, the world would be a much better place. I mean, no one would have pegged Beaver Casablancas as a sociopath, either.
At least, of the two potential killers in Neptune, it wouldn't be any trouble tracking her down.
Jessamyn von Esterhaus, with a name like that, wasn't much harder. A quick check of the phone book said she lived at 11 Paradisio Lane. I'd never heard of the street, and I knew most places in Neptune. A quick hop online and a minute later, thanks to Mapquest, I had directions. Doing a quick websearch of her name led to the fact that she also had an Aaron Echolls web shrine, complete with an appropriately garish and morbid obituary page for Aaron and a "Note concerning the lies of Lynn Echolls."
"Lynn Lester was an actress of marginal talent and even less beauty when Aaron married her. One of the few lapses in taste in an otherwise amazing life (the less said about Road to Dead, the better). That she would try to bolster her own fading career by lying about him doesn't surprise me in the least. Someone needs to get the truth out there about this bitch's lies -- actually, someone needs to get her to shut up. Anyway --"
And then followed a "refutation" of what Lynn had said at the press conference -- one part wishful thinking, two parts hero worship, stir well. The only thing noteworthy about it was its comparative literacy.
I wrote her an email thanking her for exposing the truth behind Lynn Echolls' 'lies' and got an autoreply back: "I am unable to respond to email right now because I broke my glasses and without them I'm functionally blind. I will answer you as soon as I can. Jessamyn." She must have had someone type them in for her. And the functional blindness would explain her being a fan of Aaron Echolls.
I'd have to wait until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest to visit with her, though. Vanessa Mencken I could, and would, confront tomorrow.
Dad was scheduled to be on time getting home today, so I made the best meal I could essentially one-handed. My shoulder wasn't hurting me quite so much when I raised it anymore but I could tell it was a long way from fully healed.
When he finally got home, I had a couple of tuna salad sandwiches and a microwaved box of frozen vegetables all ready. Okay, so I'm not Julia Child. Shoot me.
"Tuna salad," Dad said. "What's the occasion?"
I stuck out my tongue. "Didn't want you to have to do all the work around here," I said. "Besides, I used my secret recipe."
"Your secret recipe involves Italian Dressing," Dad said.
"Well, if you tell everyone it's not going to be a secret, now, is it?"
After dinner was done, I went into my room to do homework. A half hour later, while in the middle of researching something for English, Meg called.
"We got them!" she said excitedly.
"You got them?"
"Yes!"
"Well, then, tell me what happened."
"We met the man in the dog park by the beach – nice, public area, a lot of people around. Just like the rest of them, he didn't speak any English. I handed him the envelope – he looked through it to make sure the $2,000 was in there –- and he handed over Fellini's leash. While Duncan walked him over to Mrs. DeRyan –"
"Mrs. DeRyan was there?" I asked a bit incredulously.
"You said you wanted more witnesses. And I didn't want to have to drag around an innocent little dachshund with us, or leave him locked up in Duncan's car. Anyway, as Ramon – that was the guy's name, Ramon – was leaving I started to ask him a couple of questions." She laughed. "You should have seen his face when he went all 'no habla ingles' and I switched right on over to Spanish."
"Well, to be fair, you hardly look the part."
She laughed again. "True enough. Anyway, I asked him who'd hired him and he didn't answer. I asked him again and he started to walk away."
After a period of silence, Veronica said, "I hate it when people telling me stories try to draw things out for dramatic effect."
"Not being dramatic," Meg said. "Being embarrassed."
"About what?"
"About how I got him to stop walking." Then there was an inaudible mumble from the other end of the phone.
"What was that?" I asked.
"I bribed him."
I couldn't help myself; I started laughing.
Meg misunderstood why I was laughing and said, sounding a bit offended, "It worked!"
"Not why I'm laughing, Meg. I'm laughing because you thought it would bother me."
"It doesn't?"
"Well, I'm not saying you want to start paying off the low-level henchmen every time, but whatever works, works. Are there dognappers in jail?"
"Yes."
"Did Mandy get Chester back?"
"Yes. I was right about that, by the way. Any dog whose reward wasn't big enough to be worth their time they simply took the collar off and sold them to another home. Then they kept the collar in case the original owners came in."
"There you go, then." After a second, "So what happened after you paid him?"
"After I took down the information, that's when Duncan and I went to the Sheriff's Department."
"And Lamb listened?"
"Not at first. But I didn't bring your name up – I told him Duncan and I had been working on something about the story for the Neptune Navigator and the TV station – and when he still seemed reluctant I told him maybe busting some dognappers might be good for his image, which as you know has taken a terrible hit recently."
"That did the trick."
Meg confirmed it. "Yes, it did. I talked him into letting us follow him down there. mostly by getting Duncan to agree to give him a good write-up in the Navigator –" now there was a man desperate for good publicity – "And watched while he and that really cute young deputy –"
"Leo D'Amato," I said. Talk about a path not taken.
"Went through and cleaned house. Lamb got kind of suspicious of a "contagious diseases" section of the place – pointed out that most dog diseases weren't communicable by humans –"
"How the hell did Lamb know that?"
"He has a dog," Meg said. "Maybe one of the other reasons he helped us out."
Don Lamb owned a dog. I couldn't wrap my head around the concept. Of course, the idea that Don Lamb was a member of the same species I was was a struggle on most days.
"And," Meg went on, "There were the other missing dogs. Except for the ones not worth keeping," she said, practically spitting out the last couple of words. Then, in an abrupt change of tone, she said, "I do feel sorry for the people who adopted those dogs, though. They didn't do anything wrong, they've opened their hearts to a new pet, and now it's going to be ripped away from them."
Ah, Meg. Heart as big as the sun.
"Anyway, I noticed they weren't there and the pound employee once again said they were all dead, and I explained why I didn't believe them, and the Deputy said to him, 'People don't think much of animal abusers in prison. Would you like that rumor to get spread around?' and that's when he confessed."
"Well, disjointed narrative aside, it sounds to me like you did fine. The bad guys are out of commission, the dogs are or will be returned to their rightful owners, and you figured it out all on your own."
"The reason I'm worried about the bribe is that it wasn't using my brain, or cleverness, or anything like that. It was just me peeling off a wad of hundreds."
"And that wasn't using your brain?" I said. "You needed him to talk. He talked. As far as I'm concerned, any way of getting someone to talk short of actually beating them unconscious is fine. Whatever works, works. This is investigative work, not gymnastics. We don't get style points."
"But –"
"But nothing. I'm not saying you didn't make a minor mistake or two along the way, but Meg, you solved the case. That's all that counts."
"But will it be good enough when it really matters?" she whispered.
"There's really only one way to find out, Meg," I said. "If you want a second run-through, I'll supervise the next school-type case I get too. We can do this as long as you think you're not ready."
"Thanks, Veronica."
"No problem."
X X X X X
Larry Holtz hadn't wasted any time getting Dick Casablancas cleared of the attempted murder charges; it was the big headline in the paper the next day. "Sheriff busts alleged dognapping ring" was relegated to A7.
Poor Donnie.
It was Logan's turn to drive me to school.
"So, how'd the Cybermage facedown go?" I asked.
"Incomplete. We both kept getting killed -- I think she was maybe a bit ahead when we had to break it off, but that's it." He paused. "I can catch her on this one, Machiavelli. I know it."
"I wish you luck."
"You don't have confidence in my computer-game skills, do you?"
"Logan, I think you could kick the ass of 98 of the gamers on the planet. With Mac, however --"
"Feelin' the love," he said.
"Wait until we get to the parking lot and you'll be feeling some love."
"Are you trying to get me arrested for speeding?" Then, in all seriousness, "How's your investigation coming?"
"Meg found the dogs."
"Not that investigation."
"Oh. That one."
"Yes," he said a little irritably, "The one where you're trying to find someone who shot you! And who could be coming after either my mother or your father."
"Just a friendly word of warning, Logan," I said. "I get all the overprotectiveness I need from my father. I'm not in the market for more."
"I'm not so sure he's wrong on this one." Then he sighed. "But I don't suppose I can lock you in a safe deposit box until this all goes away." After a bitter chuckle, he said, "But I still want to."
"And I appreciate that. But try to stop somewhere short of actually doing it, okay?"
"Okay." Then, "So, how is it coming?"
"Unfortunately, Logan, I think the target is more likely to be your mother." I told him what I'd learned so far, minus the vandalizing of Lynn's car, since she'd asked me to keep that a secret.
"You want help with Vanessa Mencken?"
"I think I'm good there, thanks," I said. "She can't really run away from me here. If she decides to be uncooperative, I'll bring you in. Where I could use your help, though, is this afternoon when I try to find Jessamyn von Esterhaus."
"So I'm your chauffeur?"
"Think of it more like 'getaway driver.'"
"Think making it sound more macho is going to make it any more appealing?"
"How about, 'you're doing it because you're my boyfriend and you love me?'"
"Always gotta play that trump card, don't you, Mars?"
"But it works so well."
As it happened, I didn't run into Vanessa Mencken that day; she was out sick. Senioritis, probably, since we were in the last couple of months of the school year and her parents the mystery writers were doing a book tour that had them away from Neptune for a couple of weeks. Ah well. The best laid plans and all that.
Given that, the school day itself was no more or less than exactly that: a day of school. Some friendly competition at lunch between Logan and Mac, some making out with Logan, some further hashing things out with Meg.
I got into Logan's X-terra after school and, once he'd gotten in, snapped my fingers imperiously. "11 Paradisio Lane, Driver," I said. "And try to avoid the potholes this time. The ride this morning was beastly."
He gave me a dirty look as he started the vehicle. "If you're going to act like Miss Daisy, you can ride in the back." After a second, "Or on the roof."
"Any more attitude like that, driver, and there will be no sex for you tonight."
"Yes ma'am," he said.
It was no wonder I'd never heard of 11 Paradisio Lane; it was on a street in Neptune Gardens, an assisted living facility. Jessamyn von Esterhaus had her own cottage.
"May I help you?" she asked, squinting, when she opened the door. She must have been at least 85. She was short and thin and her hair was completely white, but her voice was that of a much younger woman.
"Yes, actually," I said, "Assuming you're the Jessamyn von Esterhaus who runs the Aaron Echolls Shrine?"
"I am," she said.
"I'm Vanessa," I said. "And this is my boyfriend, L--Lloyd."
Logan looked at me and mouthed, "Lloyd?" with an expression that clearly indicated, "That's the best you could do?"
"Well, come in, Vanessa, Lloyd," she said. "I'm sorry about the lack of updates to the page, but I broke my glasses a couple of days ago and without them I can't see much of anything." Which was the only reason I'd decided to come over rather than call -- she wasn't likely to recognize us if she couldn't see who we were. If she'd opened the door and she had glasses I would have said, "Sorry, wrong cottage," and kept going.
"Thanks," I said, "We had been wondering. After all, we're big fans of Aaron Echolls, too, and when we found out you lived right here in town and you also thought Lynn Echolls was lying, we just had to come and visit you." An entire wall of her cottage was posters from Aaron Echolls movies, or autographed photos. She had a computer set up in one corner that Mac would have envied.
"Yes" she said, "That bitch. I couldn't believe it when Trina Echolls -- lovely woman, nothing like her stepmother --" thank God, I murmured to myself -- "Mentioned on that discussion board that Lynn was going to say such horrid lies about him. It made me want to kill her."
"You didn't try, did you?" I asked in a horrified tone.
She laughed. "Oh, no," she said. "I wasn't the one who tried to shoot the nasty woman. Not that I might not have thought about doing it if I'd been thirty years younger, and could still see, and could actually drive, but I watched the whole thing on television."
"Me too," I said. "How horrid. You know, I heard someone might have hired whoever took that shot."
"I wish I could give them money," she said, "But whatever doesn't come to Neptune Gardens I put into my computer and memorabilia collection."
"And what an impressive collection it is," I said, gritting my teeth. And for the next fifteen minutes, until Logan and I could politely extricate ourselves, I had to feign enthusiasm for the collected works of a serial adulterer and murderer.
"Come on back sometime," she said as we left. "I love discussing Aaron. What a great man he was!"
When we got to the car, I told Logan, "I need to go wash my mouth out with bleach. I feel nauseated."
"Veronica," Logan said tightly, "The next time you talk to someone who thinks my father was a god, leave me out. I don't have the stomach for it."
"How do you deal with Trina?"
"I try not to."
Okay. Jessamyn von Esterhaus hadn't done it. I was rapidly running out of suspects.
Logan's phone rang. "Hello -- What? We'll be right there." He hung up.
"What is it?"
"Someone just took another shot at my mother," he said.
Sometimes I hate being right,