CHAPTER THREE
"So, what are you wearing?"
A smile teased the corners of her mouth. Just having him on the phone and knowing he was safe, calmed her. She snuggled deeper under the covers. "Logan," sleep made her voice husky, "I'm still in bed." Veronica paused for a beat before adding, "naked."
His sharp intake of breath sent delightful shivers down her spine. "Veronica." Her name was a protracted groan, equal parts of pleasure and pain.
It was enough to chase away the last vestiges of sleep and the events of yesterday rushed back to her. Really, Veronica? Phone sex with Logan when Piz was just killed? "Oh my God, Logan."
"Already? That's a record, even for me."
"Piz came to see me."
"Wait, what?" The playful, sexy banter was gone and the tone of his voice cooled by a few hundred degrees, "Piz is there?" It was a terse question spoken through a clenched jaw.
"No. Someone killed him Logan."
"Really, a murder in Neptune? Has the sheriff been by to arrest me yet?"
Veronica frowned. It was their way, to deflect with humor, but she didn't feel up to trading quips with him this morning. It was a rough night with very little sleep to be found. Her body felt bruised and tender and she couldn't get comfortable. Then when she did fall asleep, something inevitably woke her- a bad dream, a trip to the bathroom, Wallace snoring on the sofa.
"Are you okay?" It was the quiet, serious Logan now, the man and not the boy. She used to catch glimpses of this Logan hiding behind the snide remarks and snarky comments; the soft, tender side that was reserved just for her. There was no real answer to his question. "I don't have any more leave time, but I could talk to my XO…"
"No, I don't need you to do that."
"Veronica Mars never needs anybody." It was said without rancor, but his words instantly brought the past to mind and she started to cry. Logan slammed his fist against the phone, "God, V, don't cry. I'm sorry."
"I do need you." It was barely above a whisper, but she knew he heard her.
"And I'm thousands of miles away acting like a jerk. I want to be there with you, I love you Veronica."
"I know you do." The entire idea that she could keep their conversations light and breezy while he was gone was suddenly absurd. What exactly was she waiting for? What if something happened to him and she never got the chance? She was overwhelmed by the pressing need to tell him how she felt. "And I love you."
Laughter rumbled across the line and it was beautiful. It wasn't sardonic or mocking or forced. There was something so pure and innocent and joyful in the sound of his laughter she almost started to cry again. He was happy. This was Logan, happy. "As usual Mars, your timing is excellent." She could hear the smile in his voice and she felt an answering one spread across her own face.
"We aim to please, Lieutenant."
A siren started to wail behind him, electronic klaxon bells growing progressively louder and more insistent. "I've got to go Veronica, I love you." And he was gone.
Please be safe, Logan.
She couldn't erase the smile from her face. For a little while she just wanted to lie in bed and feel happy, but she knew that wasn't possible. Face it Veronica, you're living in a Dickens novel- best of times, worst of times, deal with it.
She climbed out of bed, grabbed her bag and padded down the hall to the bathroom. It was funny how one moment could change your life. Five words from Logan, I need your help Veronica, ended her future law career before it began and ended her relationship with Piz. It reconnected her to Logan; a man she thought lost to her forever. It brought her back to Neptune, allowing her to find the Veronica she missed. And now those five words brought her here, to this new life-changing moment.
Unlike the shower in their old apartment, the water was nice and hot and Veronica had to force herself not to linger. The smell of cooking bacon, helped hurry her along. She swept her things from the edge of the sink into her bag, quickly got dressed and vacated the bathroom. The closer she got to the kitchen, the worse the bacon smelled. She wrinkled her nose, "are you sure that's not rancid?"
"These here are perfectly cooked strips of pork heaven."
"I'll pass."
"Good, more for the rest of us." Keith put the platter of bacon on the table. "You got in very late last night?" Veronica could feel his gaze on her; intense and prodding, assessing her mood, and gauging her reactions. She kept her face averted and hoped his bullshit detector was still under-the-weather like the rest of him. "I'm sorry about Stosh, honey. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine Dad. Where's Wallace? And what do you mean 'us'?"
Keith pointed at her, "Ah, there are those sharp observational skills that earn you the small bucks and make me so proud."
A huge platter of bacon, table set for five, Wallace missing- shit. "What time does their flight arrive?" An awkward phone conversation with the Piznarskis followed by an even more awkward breakfast? Not bloody likely. "Doesn't matter." There was no way she was sticking around for Meet the Parents.
He started shaking his head, "Veronica, you just can't..."
"Tell them I'm sorry I missed them." She grabbed a slice of toast, kissed Keith's cheek and made a dash for the door.
Her plan was to be at Wallace's apartment close to the time of the shooting so the scene would be the same. It was a good thing she'd escaped when she did, or those best laid plans would have gone awry. Avoiding the Pisnarksis was just an added bonus. Of course if yesterday's phone conversation was any indication, she was sure they didn't want to spend the morning with her either. Despite her warm and endearing personality, she was not their favorite person. Wallace should've made the call. Now not only was she the woman who broke their son's heart, she was also the person who told them he'd been murdered. Murdered while he was in Neptune to see her and win her back. That, my friends, is the hate trifecta.
Veronica made a right on Mission while thinking about Caltrans cameras. Most of the traffic cameras in California only offered still images, but there were a few with streaming video, thanks Jake Kane. It wasn't really a question whether or not Mac could access the system, the question was would it be useful?
Mission Avenue was an interesting drive. It was symbolic of Neptune itself. If you traveled from one end to the other, you moved from the neighborhood of have-not to the land of have. There was no middle ground in between just a wide swath of undeveloped land acting as both a barrier and a reminder to stay on your side. It's where the proverbial tracks would run and Wallace's apartment complex was on the wrong side of them.
Once she passed the Jiffy Lube she entered the five block stretch that in recent years had become "trendy," which really just meant that the wealthy kids deigned to hang out there. It was reminiscent of Melrose Avenue in West Hollywood with its vintage clothing stores, funky boutiques, foodie restaurants and tattoo parlors. The building was your typical California stucco with red barrel tile roof construction replete with palm trees in the front and a courtyard.
She maneuvered the BMW into the small tenant's only parking lot behind the building and took Wallace's spot. Eight apartments, eight parking spaces, each conveniently numbered to match its apartment. Veronica shook her head; let's just announce to everyone, I'm not home. Unfortunately for her, most of the spots were already empty.
Now on foot, Veronica circled back to the front of the building and scanned the avenue. A dark and closed self-serve frozen yogurt shop was on the far-left corner. Next to that was the creatively named Ink tattoo parlor with a pulled down grate. The Chic Boutique, also closed, shared building space with a store called Boots. Wonder what they sell here on state- the-obvious street? A small restaurant took up the right corner, its sign faced down the street away from her so she couldn't read it; please let it be Food or Eats or Chow. She jogged across the street to get a better look at the sign- The Cellar. The name was disappointing, but the sign under it "closed for renovations" gave her hope that maybe it would come back with a name banal enough to fit the rest of the street.
The only place left with a decent view was the bookstore-cum-café across from where she stood and diagonally across from Wallace's building. Lights in the windows of Books & Beans were a good sign. A small bell announced her entry, but no one came running to offer assistance and the counter with the cash register was empty. Three relatively wide aisles of books led toward the back of the store. Veronica sidled up to the counter and looked out at the street.
If someone had been at the register yesterday morning they had a good, unobstructed view to Wallace's front gate. "Can I help you?"
Veronica whirled around to face the new arrival. She pegged him in his mid to late fifties, a generous amount of grey mingled with his brown hair and his middle was turning to paunch. He was holding a stack of books, the top one open as if he'd been reading it and he was staring at her over the top rim of his glasses. "Are you not open yet?"
"We're open. Every day at eight." He set down the stack of books and waved his arm toward the back of the empty store, "for the breakfast rush."
She rewarded his attempt at humor with, what she liked to call, her 'girl giggle' and in her best perky voice said, "Well if my husband and I decide to move here you'll have two new regulars."
"Great, I'll start planning my retirement now." A misanthropic book store owner? Maybe she would become a regular.
"Have you been in this neighborhood a long time?"
"Were you actually planning on buying any books?"
She giggled again, "of course I am. Do you have anything about babies? My husband, I just love saying that, my husband and I just got married- newlyweds and we're getting ready to start a family."
He literally rolled his eyes at her. Yes, this was definitely her new favorite spot. "Follow me." He led her down the center aisle to the back of the store and pointed to rows and rows of books about making babies, having babies, and raising babies.
"Wow that's a lot of books for such a tiny baby. Can you make any suggestions?" He handed her Getting Pregnant, then What to Expect When You're Expecting, The Expectant Father, and The Everything Get Ready for Baby Book. "I'm not sure I need all these."
His look clearly said that he disagreed with her assessment of her mothering potential. I'll have you know I did a fine job raising my plastic baby in health class. That is, when I remembered to take her out of the car and feed her. He walked away, leaving Veronica to trail behind him. "So the neighborhood, is it a good one? My husband and I were looking at an apartment in that building over there." She pointed through the window at the apartment complex.
"Someone was murdered in that building yesterday."
She dropped the books on the floor, gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. "Murdered? How do you know? Did you see it? Were you here? When did it happen?"
He scooped up the fallen books and put them on the counter. "It was yesterday morning right after I opened up the store. I'd just finished reshelving some books when I heard gunshots."
"Were you here at the counter?"
"Not at first, I was in the back of the store, but as soon as I realized what they were I rushed up here."
"Wow that was really brave. I would've stayed in the back and waited for the police. Weren't you scared?"
"I wanted to see where the shots were coming from and if anyone needed my help." Veronica wasn't sure if Mr. Misanthrope cared about helping or if he was more interested in having a good story to tell.
"And did you? See where the shots were coming from?"
He shook his head, "but it was definitely inside that building. The Sheriff's Department was there all day."
"Did you see anybody on the street or any cars that were unusual?"
His gaze narrowed at her and Veronica suspected her ditzy blond routine was coming to a close. The silence stretched on as he rang up her purchases. "That will be $59.87."
She pulled the last three twenties out of her wallet and passed them to him. He made change and handed it to her with the receipt. Veronica picked up the bag and started to turn away.
"There was one thing. A really expensive sports car. You don't really see cars like that down here at that hour; the debutantes don't make their way down here until well past noon."
"Do you know what kind of car?"
"It was a convertible. A Mercedes, maybe a BMW, and it was dark blue."