“I see. What do you do when that happens?”
“It can get pretty ugly, especially if they have children. I don’t want to evict them, but we can’t let them stay for free either. We collect as much as we can, but we usually let them stay a couple extra weeks for free before evicting them.”
“That’s not how I hear it. My sources tell me that Mr. Browne makes those people pay him about half the going rate, under the table, for those so-called free weeks. I’m wondering if you’re pocketing some of that money too, maybe to avoid the IRS?”
Kraft wrinkled his brow. “I don’t mean to be rude, Detective, but there are plenty of legitimate tax deductions without doing things like that.” His eyes were steady, his hands and facial expressions at ease.
“Okay. That may be true for you, but what about Mr. Browne? I hear he cuts side deals with your tenants. Doesn’t it bother you when he gets money that should go to you?”
“I know he charges tenants ten bucks here or there for doing them favors, but I don’t make a big deal out of it because the economy has been difficult for him too.”
Delores’s eyes narrowed. “Ten bucks? I’ve heard it’s more like thousands.”
“Dixon wouldn’t do that. We go back a lot of years. He knows I’m sick and how badly the building is doing.”
“Weren’t you suspicious when he got that nice new car?”
“Why should I be? His family sold a vacation house up by Lake Tahoe and he used his share to buy the vehicle. So what?”
“Did you check it out?”
“Check what out? There’s no reason to distrust him.”
“Did you know that his real name used to be Dominik Braun?”
“Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?”
“I’m sure, alright. I’m also sure that we’re talking about some very serious crimes, such as rape.”
“Rape? No way. He doesn’t have to rape anybody.”
“Didn’t you find it odd that he had so many women living with him?”
“Not really. He’s a bachelor and a lot of nice-looking eligible woman come around a property like Cal-Vista. A fellow in that situation doesn’t need to rape anybody.”
“Did you know he married quite a few of these same women?”
“He used the term married from time to time, but the women came and went so often I thought it was just his way of saying he was sleeping with them.”
“Oh, it’s much more than that. He charges them a lot of money to live with him, and to be his wife. Any idea why he’d do that?”
Rodger Kraft stared at her as if he’d suddenly realized there might be something to her allegations. “I didn’t know he was charging them anything. I probably should have gotten that money. Just how many marriages are we talking about?”
Delores hesitated. Rodger Kraft’s manner and compassion were not the signs of a guilty man. He wasn’t smug or avoiding eye contact. It was time to level with him. “At least five,” she said. “Maybe as many as twelve.”
“Twelve marriages?” Kraft frowned. “Quite honestly, I doubt that. Where’d you get your information, anyway?”
“A couple months ago, I went undercover and rented one of your apartments.” She tugged on her blouse. “I dress differently when I’m there.”
“Oh. I thought you looked familiar.”
“The truth is, Mr. Kraft, Dixon Browne has been taking advantage of you. I’m afraid your old buddy is going away for a long time. It would look a lot better for you if you were on our side.”
Kraft lowered his head, sat silent for a few seconds. Then, “I’d say this is hard to believe, but now that I think of it, Dixon has been causing trouble lately. He even threw paint all over the parking lot just to blame it on somebody else. He’s never done anything irrational like that before. I guess I should have paid better attention, but I was too distracted by my own problems. Cancer does that to a guy, you know?”
“I’m sure it does and I’m sorry about that, but now we’ve got us a mutual problem and I need you to put together a list of all the women with whom Dixon might have had intimate relations. I need names and contact information.”
Kraft blew out a deep breath. “I’ll do whatever I can, but I looked upon a few of them as long-term house guests so I never made them fill out any paperwork.”
“Alright, get me what you have and let me know if you think of anything else that might help to track these ladies down.”
“Certainly.”
Delores made a note, then raised her head. “Just a couple more things before I let you go. I need you to keep this meeting to yourself until we make our move. We don’t want him to get spooked.”
“Sure. When is that?”
“We don’t know yet, but not long.”
“No problem. This is a bit of a shock, but I guess he deserves whatever he gets.”
“I’m glad you think like that, because I have another favor to ask of you. As you know the rent is due.”
“What of it?”
“I’m expecting him to come see me very soon and I don’t want him groping me as he’s done before. It would make things a lot easier on me if you’d advance me the rent money. Naturally, we’ll note the serial numbers and I’ll give you a receipt.”
“Of course, Detective. Whatever I can do to help.”
“Good. Thanks. I’ll give the money to Dixon and hopefully he’ll give it back to you.”
Kraft stared aimlessly at the floor. “Those poor women.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
It had been two weeks since Stump wracked up his knee and was essentially forced to give up on his desire to help people make their homes safer. After that he missed so much school there was a genuine chance he wouldn’t pass the tenth grade. He tried to knuckle down, but he still had other, bigger problems distracting him.
After school, he pedaled Ol’ Ug’ to Cal-Vista and found the big boss at the office. “Hello, Mr. Kraft,” he said as he filled in his time card. “What do you have for me today?”
Mr. Kraft spoke of the meter room, down the hall. “Each of the seven buildings has a similar room and none have been painted since the building was new. The first thing you need to do is straighten up the room and then paint it. After you’re done, move on to the next building and do the same thing. By the time you finish the last one, you should be ready to paint the trim on the outside of the buildings.”
More painting? Oh, well. About 40 minutes later, Stump was well into his work when he heard the building’s main door open. “Couldn’t keep your mouth shut, huh?” Dixon said. “The old man says you blamed the parking lot paint on me.”
“I didn’t have to blame anybody. Mr. Kraft is smart enough to figure out you did it.”
“Look here, rich boy. I can turn some powerful people against you. Trust me. You won’t like that.”
“We already went over that. You got more to lose than I do so you ain’t gonna do nothing.” Stump stood toe to toe with Dixon and smiled. “You should have never made that notebook, but I guess you weren’t smart enough to keep track of your activities without it. That’s too bad for you.”
The muscles in Dixon’s jaw tightened. His face reddened. “Trust me, you’re going to be sorry.” He spat at Stump’s feet and spun to walk away.
“Good riddance.”
Seconds later and alone Stump was pleased with himself for standing up to Dixon. He threw a rag on the spit puddle, kicked the rag to the side and went back to work. In the meantime he had to figure out what, if anything, he should say to Maria about Dixon being her biological father.
Each time he imagined the dialogue he arrived at the same conclusion: There was no way she was going to believe him without proof and a few scribbles in a notebook wasn’t enough. Then Stump had an idea.
He grabbed his cell. As usual, Google had the information he wanted. He rolled up the rag with Dixon’s spit in it and stuffed it in his back pocket.
Later, when his shift en
ded, he met Maria at the picnic table near the pool. “There’s something I want to talk about,” he said. “It’s something important. In fact, it might be the biggest piece of news you’ll ever hear.”
“Good news?”
He hesitated. Then, “You always want me to be honest with you, right?”
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
“It has to do with you and Dixon.”
She scrunched her eyebrows. “I hate that guy.”
“I know you do, but there’s something you need to know about him that might change your mind.”
“Not even if he kissed a hundred babies.”
“Okay, then, here it is.” Stump swallowed and shifted in his seat. “I found something in his notebook that has to do with you.”
“Me? He never did anything bad to me.”
“He never would. In fact it ties into why he gave you that bracelet with your birthstone in it.” Stump’s forehead felt hot. “I guess I might as well just come right out and say it. The truth is Dixon is your biological father. Your real dad.”
“Ha ha. Nice try, but I ain’t falling for your little joke.”
“It’s no joke. Honest. I confronted him and he admitted it. Trust me. It’s true.”
She shook her head. “Impossible. I already told you about my papa.”
“I know how we can prove it.”
“I don’t need to prove nothing. I know the truth.”
“Just hear me out. Would you, please?”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “This is ridiculous.”
“I know it seems like that, but I did a Goggle search and found a home DNA test that’s designed just for things like this.”
Maria folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t care what you say, I’m not related to that man.”
“We could prove it, one way or the other, within a week.” Stump tugged the rag out of his back pocket. “I’ve already got his DNA. Saliva. I just need you to give some too.”
Her eyes bounced off the rag, then back at him. “Eeeew. That’s disgusting.”
She was cute when she said things like that. “I’m not asking you to touch it. Just go along with me. I’ll take care of everything. A lab will analyze the results and we’ll know for sure.”
“It’s a waste of time.”
“But what if you’re wrong? You might change your mind about having Dixon arrested.”
“I’ve already told you what I want.” Her voice grew louder. “How many more times do I have to tell you?”
What could Stump expect? “Before you make a final decision, there’s something else you should know.”
She put her hands on her waist. “You never give up, do you?”
Stump looked over his shoulder, then back. “Dixon’s been saving up money for you to go to college.”
Maria turned her head. Looked deep into Stump’s eyes. “That’s not very funny.”
“It’s no joke. I promise. It’s at Chase Bank. It was all in his notes. Pretty cool, huh?”
She looked at the ground and then into his eyes. “How much is it?”
“Over twenty thousand dollars. That’s enough for a small college if you live at home and pick up a grant or two.”
“I have twenty thousand dollars?”
“Either he’s your father and you have a lot of money or neither of those things is true. That’s why I have to get your DNA. I can get the kit here in a couple days. You just have to give a sample of your saliva.”
“Spit? You want me to spit?”
Stump grinned. “You just wipe the inside of your mouth with a swab, that’s all. It’s easy.”
She hesitated and then sighed. “I still think this is stupid, but okay. You can order the kit.”
“Great. There’s just one more thing. The kit is ninety-eight dollars. I don’t suppose you have any money to pay for it until my next payday?”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Like most brides-to-be, Delores was excited about getting a marriage license, but she may have been the only woman who’d ever hoped the procedure would terminate her relationship with her fiancé. Dressed as Lorraine Martinez, Delores had just watched Dixon waddle up the courtyard toward her apartment. He wore a nice shirt and long pants for a change. “You ready?” he asked without dillydallying.
“Where is this place?” she asked.
“Registrar’s Office.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “But first I want a kiss from my bride.”
“But you might get carried away.”
“Look, all I want is a single kiss—to start the day off right. You’re not backing out, are you?”
“No, but I want to get started,” she fibbed.
He grinned and leaned in. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll make it quick.”
It wouldn’t look good to deny him a single kiss on their big day. She closed her eyes and let him kiss her. Predictably his claws went right to her rear end. She cringed and reminded herself that other women had to do worse things with him. She secretly counted to ten and then pulled away as gracefully as possible. “Okay, let’s go.”
In the Caddie, with her recorder going, Delores figured that Lorraine would be nervous and prone to ask questions and some of them could lead to some useful information. “How long does it take to get a license?”
“Not very long. Then we can go back home and finalize the deal.”
She winced at the thought.
“What about an ID?” she asked. “I don’t have a driver’s license.”
“Won’t need it.”
Additional questions generated similar curt and confident replies, which indicated that Dixon had employed his formula before. Words such as fraud and conspiracy came to mind. She avoided smiling.
An hour and a half later, they rolled into a parking lot inland from Santa Monica. Delores recognized the four-story office building but had never been in it. After parking, Dixon made a call from his cell. “We’re here,” was all he said.
He took her hand and led her inside to the cafeteria and then to a corner table, away from other customers. Five minutes later a tall, pepper-haired white guy in his fifties joined them and introduced himself as Louie. “Let’s make it quick. I’ve got a lot to do,” he said, placing a thin packet of papers on the table. He eyed the top sheet and addressed Delores. “I take it you’re Lorraine Martinez?”
She nodded and wondered if this guy really worked in the building or if he came from someplace else. “Don’t you have an office where we should do this?”
“He’s doing us a favor,” Dixon said. “It’s best to do this right here.”
Louie looked at Dixon. “You’re Devin D. Brown with no e, correct?”
“Yep. Devin D.”
Hmm. That was interesting. Another one of Dixon’s aliases. She wondered how many other names he and Louie might have used. “Devin?” she asked. “But I thought your name is Dixon?”
“Dixon is my middle name.”
She shrugged as if she bought his explanation.
Louie asked a few additional questions about Lorraine’s date of birth, her parents’ addresses and so forth but he didn’t ask whether she or Dixon had ever been divorced. Too bad, ’cause she was curious how Dixon would answer that one. A few minutes later Louie reached the back page of his custom-made packet and stamped it with a notary seal indicating his name was Lewis Drabble. “Okay, that’s it,” he said.
Amused by the brevity of the ritual, Delores looked at Louie. “A friend at work told me that the license is just permission to get married. She said there would be a separate ceremony by a judge or priest. When do we do that?”
Louie looked at Dixon, who took over. “Ceremonies are optional, and too expensive. We’re not going to waste the money.”
“What about a ring?” Delores asked, holding back a mischievous grin. “My friend said I’m supposed to get a big diamond.”
“It’s on order,” Dixon said.
Louie glanced around
the room before sliding his hand, palm up, toward Dixon. “You got those other papers?”
Dixon nodded, reached in his back pocket and slipped his friend a sealed envelope, presumably Louie’s fee for making everything look almost official.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Nothing that concerns you.”
Louie stuffed the envelope in his shirt pocket, rose and moved toward the door. Delores waited until he reached the hall before she sprang to her feet and turned to Dixon, “I gotta go to the bathroom.” She hustled out the room and into the hallway in time to see Louie press the “up” button on the elevator. Good. It shouldn’t be difficult to find him later.
From there, she found the restroom and made a call to Rodger Kraft who agreed to watch for her and Dixon to return to the Cal-Vista in a couple hours.
As she and Dixon returned to Palmdale, Dixon drove quickly, spoke excitedly and made exaggerated hand gestures. He reminded her of a twelve-year-old on his way to Disneyland. At the Cal-Vista parking lot, she observed Rodger Kraft’s car and hoped he was standing by. Once parked, Dixon grabbed her hand and led her toward his apartment, but there was no sign of Rodger Kraft.
At Dixon’s apartment, he disregarded the tradition of carrying the bride over the threshold and opted to pull her inside like a caveman. He quickly pulled the curtains closed then twisted the deadbolt and reached for the buttons on Delores’s blouse. “Let’s begin our honeymoon right now.”
With still no sign of Rodger Kraft, she pushed Dixon’s hand away and clung to her purse. “Wait. I have something to say.”
“This ain’t no time for conversations.”
“But my priest said that what we did today wasn’t really getting married. It was just permission to get married.”
Dixon’s scowled. “What priest? He must be talking about a church wedding. Ours wasn’t that kind.” He sounded like a big kid on the playground who was ridiculing a younger kid who didn’t know the rules to a game. He reached for her blouse again. “You owe me and I’m done waiting.”
She hugged her purse. “But I got some money from the church I can give you.”
Dixon stood motionless for a few seconds and then looked her in the eye. “You’ve been sandbagging me again.” He nudged her backwards. “Won’t work this time. We’re going to the bedroom.” His tone was firm and eerie; saliva had gathered at the edge of his lips.