"Who's Noah?"

"Noah Kaplan."

"You mean Detective Kaplan? Is Noah his first name? I always wondered." My mind reeled in confusion. What was going on here?

Diane narrowed her eyes and growled, "I want Jeff back. If he's in jail, I'll be all alone, and who'll take care of me then, huh?"

Well, all right, then. That settles it. Let's just suspend every law of decency so someone can take care of Diane. Clearly, she needs a caretaker, or meds, or something!

"Aren't you afraid of your husband? After all, he killed Dax Martin in a jealous rage."

Her eyebrows pushed together in surprise. "What?"

"I know about your affair with your old boyfriend, Dax Martin, Diane. Don't deny it. Apparently, your husband also found out and killed him. If Jefferson's capable of murder, he could harm you too. Think about that."

She threw her head back and laughed a little too harsh and a little too crazy. In that moment, I knew the truth. How could I not have seen it sooner?

The woman standing before me resembled the description of Dax Martin's killer. She was tall, slender, and had light hair. If she wore loose clothing and pinned her hair up under a baseball cap, she could look like a man in the dark. What would account for the funny voice Graciela heard?

Then I realized my mistake. Jefferson Davis's British accent wouldn't be a flag for a non-English speaker like Graciela; all English speakers would sound the same to her. But a softer, high-pitched feminine voice would sound incongruous, or "funny," if she thought she was looking at a man.

What was Diane's motive? I swallowed.

"You killed Dax Martin, didn't you?"

Diane just glared at me. "n.o.body leaves me."

And there it was. Motive. Martin and his wife were recently overheard arguing about his affair with Diane. Maybe he tried to end the affair. Diane obviously didn't take kindly to anyone leaving her. She must have arranged to meet Dax that night. If she caught him off guard, she certainly could have incapacitated him with the first blow and then beaten him to death. Dax Martin was killed in a jealous rage, all right. Diane's jealous rage, not her husband's.

I looked at the brown stains on her shoes. Blood? Back splatter from when she beat a man to death?

"You killed Dax because he wanted to end the affair and go back to his wife?"

"Noah was right about you."

"What did Noah Kaplan say about me?"

"He said you have cop envy. You only sleep with a cop because you want to be one. He pities the stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.d who sleeps with you."

I'd file that away for future disclosure: Hey, Arlo, your partner tells other people you're a "stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.d." I just hoped I had a future. I had to figure out a way to get out of the house and get help. I no longer had Ed's gun.

"How did you end up throwing the murder weapon into Ed Pappas's backyard?"

"I called Jeff. He came right over to the field. Jeff always knows what to do. He knew which house belonged to that Pappas guy, so he threw the bat over the fence. He said everyone would believe your friend killed Dax because they had a fight. Then he called the police the next morning to place an anonymous tip."

That was it-the thing she had said earlier in the day that bothered me. She had known where Ed's house was and that the b.l.o.o.d.y baseball bat had been found in his backyard. However, the police had never publicly disclosed the exact nature of the murder weapon. Of course the killer would know.

Diane extracted a pair of gardening gloves from her backpack and put them on. "Your friend wasn't home tonight. He has a nice set of tools in his garage." Then she removed a hammer. "I'll bet his prints are all over this. When they find your body, they'll think he killed you. Then they'll release my Jeff."

Oh, my G.o.d. She means to kill me with Ed's hammer.

I needed to draw her outside. If we were outside, maybe someone could help me. Maybe there'd be a witness. Maybe she'd be afraid to be seen and leave. I turned and ran from the kitchen. I threw open the front door and ran outside, yelling as loud as I could, "Help! Help! She's going to kill me!"

I moved forward and managed to duck as Diane took the first sideways swing with the hammer. Instead of splitting open my skull, it clipped a gardenia plant growing in a pot on the porch. Diane's rage was now in high dudgeon for all to see. She obviously didn't care anymore about her plan to blame my murder on Ed. She just wanted to kill me.

She swore and raised the hammer over her head, preparing to create an opening in the top of my cranium.

"Help!" I yelled as I ran, praying her long arms couldn't reach me. I knew I could never outrun her, so I headed toward my car parked in the driveway, hoping to put it between the two of us.

I reached the far side of my Corolla just as the hammer came down on the windshield. It shattered with a resounding crack! The gla.s.s dissolved into thousands of shiny little pebbles.

"b.i.t.c.h!" she screamed. "Get back here!"

Thwack! The hammer came down on the car, again and again, as she chased me.

"I hate you!"

In the frantic circuit around my vehicle, I desperately looked for something to defend myself with. Then I heard a loud "meow." b.u.mper had followed us out of the house and into the front yard.

Diane stopped and looked at me with wild eyes. By now, she was completely off the rails. b.u.mper meowed again. She turned away from me and looked down at my orange fluff ball. Her lip twisted into an ugly snarl. "I hate your cat. I'm going to kill your cat."

"No!" I shouted. I ran over and jumped on her back, wrapping my legs around her and putting my hands over her face so she couldn't see.

Diane tried to shake me off, but I was way too heavy. We both fell to the ground. I landed on my back and she landed on top of me. I tried to get up, but she turned over and sat on my chest. Her knees pinned my arms to the driveway. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.

A nasty smile curled her lips. She raised the hammer. "You're dead."

I closed my eyes and waited for the end. I pictured the people who would be sad if I died. Quincy. Uncle Isaac. Lucy. Birdie. Beavers. Crusher.

Then I heard a loud bonk! It wasn't on my skull. I looked up.

Diane's eyes rolled back in her head just before she dropped the hammer and fell sideways.

"You okay?" wheezed Tony DiArco. He sat in his scooter next to me, holding a heavy green metal oxygen tank.

Sonia panted as she arrived and helped me out from under Diane's body, while Ron and Yuki's grandson, Parker, pulled out his cell phone and called 911.

I looked at the three of them. "How did you get here so fast?"

Sonia said, "The EAP. Don't you remember? When the spotter heard you screaming and saw you being chased out of your house, he called HQ. HQ called Tony, who was on patrol nearby. I heard the screaming and came out of my house. Looks like we got here just in time."

I'd forgotten all about the enemy attack plan. When I knew Barbara Hardisty was in custody and no longer a threat, I forgot to tell Sonia to cancel the EAP. Thank G.o.d! They must have been watching my house this whole time. If they hadn't been, I'd be as dead as Dax Martin right now.

CHAPTER 42.

Detective Arlo Beavers insisted on riding with me in the ambulance to the hospital, even though I told him I was okay. The ER doctor sent me for a full-body scan because I'd fallen on my back. Aside from the nasty green marks blooming on my upper arms, where Diane had pinned me down with her knees, I had no other injuries. But I knew I was in for a bad fibro flare-up because of the trauma my body had just gone through.

The doctor gave me an injection of Dilaudid for the pain and sent me home with a prescription and an admonition to "take it easy for a couple of days."

Between the Dilaudid and the fatigue, I don't remember exactly how I got home and into bed. I vaguely remember Beavers wiping the drool from the side of my mouth. I think Sonia was there too, along with Alex Trebek, but I can't be sure.

I slept until ten the next morning. The first sensation I became aware of was my bladder warning me I had exactly ten seconds to get up and pee. The second sensation was one of whiskers tickling my cheeks. I opened my eyes. b.u.mper's green eyes stared at me from two inches above my face.

When I rolled over to sit up, the third sensation hit me. Pain. My muscles and nerves were screaming, especially in my arms and back. I groaned like an eighty-year-old, pushed myself off the bed, and shuffled over to the bathroom, holding my right hip. The sound of the toilet flushing brought Lucy into my bedroom with a cup of coffee and a brand-new bottle of pills.

"Good morning, sunshine. From the looks of you, I'd say you're not doing so well." She thrust the bottle toward me. "Here. I sent Ray to get your prescription filled this morning."

"Thanks, Lucy. I don't remember much about last night. When did you get here?"

"Arlo called me from the hospital. I was waiting here when he brought you home. I put you in some clean pajamas and stayed the night in Quincy's room."

"What about Alex Trebek?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind." I looked at the label on the bottle. Inside were ten tablets of Dilaudid. I shook one out and swallowed it with the coffee. It must have been a lot milder than the injection, because I didn't slide directly into a coma. After about twenty minutes, I did go to a happy zone, way north of the pain. I mean, if the pain was located in Los Angeles, I was floating somewhere over the Yukon.

I put a bathrobe over pink pajamas printed with frosted cupcakes and stumbled in a daze into the living room.

Lucy sat me down on the sofa. "Just stay here and I'll make you some breakfast."

I glanced out the window and over to the driveway. The windows in my car were shattered and every surface was disfigured by huge dents. "Lucy! My car!"

"Better your car than your head. Don't worry, hon. Ray is going to take care of everything." She came into the living room and closed the drapes so I wouldn't have to look at the results of Diane Davis's murderous temper tantrum.

At eleven o'clock, Ed Pappas showed up at my front door with a huge flower arrangement, along with a humongous box of See's chocolates. He hurried to the sofa, where I sat with a dopey smile. He bent down and gathered me in grateful arms.

"You almost got killed, Martha. I'm so sorry. And to think it happened because you wanted to find the real killer and clear me. You're awesome. I'm so glad you're okay. I don't know what else to say. 'Thanks' isn't enough."

I smiled at him. "You'd do the same for me, right?"

"You know I would." He leaned in closer and whispered, "Crusher wants to come and see you. He's right outside. I'm tellin' you, if you don't let him in, he's going to explode. He told me to ask you for something called rachmunes and let him in."

I giggled. Crusher had used the Yiddish word for "pity" and "compa.s.sion."

"Oh, it can't be that bad," I slurred.

Ed just looked at me. "I've never seen him like this."

I felt hugely magnanimous in my happy place. "Sure, why not."

Ed rushed to the front door and motioned with his hand. In two seconds, Crusher was inside. He held a bouquet of fragrant flowers in one hand and a large brown sack from the deli. "I brought you chicken soup with matzo b.a.l.l.s and a loaf of deli rye."

He hastily set everything on the kitchen counter and returned to sit next to me on the sofa. I grinned stupidly at him and put my arms around his neck. "Thanks, Yossi."

The next thing I knew he was holding me and giving me a lovely, long kiss, which I was happy to return.

"Babe," he whispered, "you could have died."

Finally Lucy cleared her throat. "Okay, lover boy, put a sock in it. This woman's in no condition to give her consent. She's higher'n a kite."

Then she turned to Ed. "Take him back to your house and let him cool down. Hose him off if you have to."

Ed smirked and punched Crusher softly in the shoulder. "Come on, man. You can see for yourself she's okay. We'll come back another time."

Crusher gave Lucy one last pleading look, but she crossed her arms and jerked her thumb toward the front door.

As soon as they left, Lucy sat in a chair and fanned herself with her hand. "Dang, girlfriend, I see what you mean. The man is just crazy about you."

I grinned from ear to ear. It was all good.

At four in the afternoon, I took my second dose of Dilaudid. Beavers showed up ten minutes later, carrying a dozen yellow roses and a pink box of pastries from Eva's European Bakery. I was already flying over Portland, Oregon, in my mind.

Beavers asked Lucy, "How is she?"

Lucy took the packages from his hands. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Beavers came over to the sofa and sat next to me. I gave him a loopy grin and put my arms around him. He gathered me in a tender embrace and gave me a long, gentle kiss, which said, I miss you; I love you; I'm glad you're alive.

Of course I kissed him back. The Dilaudid made me do it.

Lucy returned and sat on a chair directly across from us, apparently determined not to let anybody take advantage of my diminished capacity. She looked at Beavers. "Down, boy. What's the latest?"

"Thanks to Martha, the murder is solved. Diane Davis suffered a concussion, but she'll survive."

"What about Jefferson Davis?" I asked.

"He's being held as an accessory to murder. We've handed off the rest of the case to the fraud division. The DA is looking into the shady deal over the baseball stadium."

"What about Barbara Hardisty? Why did she want to scare me away from finding the witnesses to Martin's murder?"

"Jefferson Davis called Detective Kaplan to find out how the investigation was going. Kaplan told his former headmaster the police were looking for two homeless witnesses. Davis was afraid the witnesses could identify his wife, Diane, as the killer, so he contacted Hardisty and told her to get rid of the homeless. When she found out you were sniffing around the wildlife reserve, she ordered Lawanda Price to scare you off. Then she hatched the plan to pay her husband with federal funds to bulldoze the area."

"Why would she agree to help Davis if she had nothing to do with the murder?"

Beavers shrugged. "She was up to her neck in conspiracy and fraud. If Davis was somehow involved in the murder and if he was caught, their corruption would be exposed. She had a stake in keeping Davis's secret because she had a lot to lose. Once we threatened to charge her as an accessory to murder, she gave us everything."

"Like how the stadium was allowed to be built in the first place?" I was approaching the Yukon once more.

"Yeah. Once Davis brokered a deal with Hardisty, he was instructed by certain trustees and big donors to set up a dummy company, SFV a.s.sociates. Money was then funneled through the company to pay off Hardisty by using Valley Allstar Construction. In addition, the Hardisty kids were given full scholarships to Beaumont, worth about one hundred thousand a year. The Hardisty boy was a.s.sured a place on the baseball team."

I yawned. "There has to be more to the story than that. What about permits, inspections, environmental impact reports-all the things the City of Los Angeles is supposed to oversee?"