by Judi Lynn
“What can I do for you?” The sale was final. She wasn’t sure why he was calling.
“A Detective Gaff got in touch with my sons and was curious if they’d taken any paperwork out of Cal’s house when they inherited it. He was hoping they had some of Cal’s personal files. Unfortunately, they didn’t bother with any of Cal’s belongings. They simply came to River Bluffs to sign papers, give the renter keys to the house and shed, and leave. You haven’t found any papers, have you?”
“No, the house was trashed when we bought it. The renter sold anything of value. Every antique was gone.”
There was a slight laugh. “Can’t blame a man for trying to make a buck. My sons weren’t interested in them.”
Was he serious? Did he realize how beautiful Cal’s furniture and artwork must have been? Jazzi’s mom said that Cal bought some of his paintings in Europe. She guessed that the nephews wouldn’t know an antique from a flea market find. Or else they never stepped inside the house and didn’t care.
Pretty callous. Didn’t Cal’s family value him and the things he loved? “Your wife didn’t want anything to remind her of her brother?”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. We were close to Cal until we moved to Battle Creek when the boys were six and eight. But when he took up with that low-class woman, Katherine had to draw the line. Cal had no sense of propriety.”
“And Cal and Katherine never reconciled, not even after Lynda disappeared?”
He sounded offended. “How could Katherine forgive him for choosing a gold digger over her?”
A gold digger? Aunt Lynda enjoyed men with money, but she didn’t stalk them. Jazzi struggled for something to say. “It’s sad to see a family torn apart.”
“That was Cal’s choice. He came to regret it.”
The more she talked to this man, the less Jazzi liked him. “If I find any papers here, I’ll let Detective Gaff know.”
“Good, I’ll let him know I contacted you. I like to cooperate with the law.”
When she hung up, she went over their conversation again. Cal’s brother-in-law had seriously annoyed her.
Ansel studied her face and frowned. “Is everything okay?”
She repeated the conversation. “The man didn’t have any feelings for Cal at all.”
“It sounds to me like his wife is the hard-ass.” He paused and reached down to scratch George behind the ears. Had his words reminded him of Emily?
Hard-ass was putting it mildly. If Jazzi never met Katherine, that would be fine with her. But Tim had made her curious. She wanted to know more about Cal and his family.
Chapter 6
On Friday, Jazzi told Jerod about Tim Carston’s phone call while they finished emptying rooms. “And why did he call me in the first place? Why didn’t one of his sons? They inherited the house.”
“Probably didn’t want to go to the bother,” Jerod said. “They must have been miffed they had to drive to River Bluffs to get their money.”
Upstairs, she and Jerod threw the twin bed out the window into the dumpster, along with the cheap chest of drawers. They carried down a few treasures they’d found in the attic. Jerod’s Franny could restore those.
They stopped for a quick lunch and then started gutting the upstairs bath. They’d nearly finished when Detective Gaff gave a quick knock on the front door, then wandered up to find them. He looked at Jazzi. “Tim called you about Cal’s papers?”
“I’m guessing the renter pitched them.” She felt like a limp mop, melting from the heat. She stepped into the hallway with him and pulled down her face mask. The worst of the dust was behind them. Soon, she wouldn’t need it. The heat had built and built during the day, draining her energy. Thank heavens, it was almost time to call it quits.
“A pretty gutsy thing to do. That would aggravate some family members.”
A bead of sweat dripped into her eye and stung. “Not Cal’s. If I understood Tim, they didn’t give a darn about Cal or anything he owned.”
“That’s the impression I got. The guy was a little too ready to be helpful when I called him. Made me wonder.”
Jerod wandered into the hallway and motioned for them to follow him. He led them to the kitchen with its window air conditioner.
Jazzi wrinkled her nose. “Tim struck me as fake, the type who’d smile to your face and stab you in the back.”
Gaff undid his top two buttons. “That’s how Cal’s friends described Tim when I talked to them.”
That intrigued her. “Who were Cal’s friends?”
“Business cronies and golf buddies, people who worked with him on committees and charities. I talked to quite a few of them.”
Jerod wet a paper towel and plastered it to the back of his neck. “My dad said that lots and lots of people liked Cal.”
Gaff nodded. “I’d heard he had an office at home. I was hoping I could find a paper trail so I could fit timing together better—when Cal left for his business trips and when Lynda died—but it’s been twenty-six years. I knew I was pushing my luck.”
Jerod went to grab a beer out of the cooler. It wasn’t much more comfortable on the first floor, even with the air conditioner, but it was better than the rooms upstairs and the attic. “You might have had a chance if the nephews had shown any interest in this place.”
Jazzi frowned. “My mom told me once that Cal had one of the most beautiful rolltop desks she’d ever seen and hand-carved wood filing cabinets. I bet the renter got a lot of money for those.”
“Either that, or somebody handed him cash, then sold them for a huge profit.” Gaff turned toward the front door. “I’m on my way home. I’ll let you two finish up. If you hear or find anything, let me know, will you?”
“We’ve got your number.” Jerod raised his arm to swipe sweat off his forehead.
When Gaff left, Jazzi glanced at the stairway. “We can finish ripping out the bathroom trim on Monday, then start on the floors, but I don’t want to climb those stairs again and wilt. I’ve had it. But since you’re taking things home to Franny, when we went through the house the first time, I thought I saw some pocket doors in the basement. They must have gone between the kitchen and the dining room. I think Franny might like them.”
“Pocket doors? We could put those in our house between the living room and sunroom. You can tell there used to be some there, but they’re gone. Franny and I could sit in the sunroom while the kids watch TV.”
“Let’s hope I’m right. They were propped against a wall on the far side.”
They went down the wooden steps and took a left. Jazzi walked to one of the high windows and pointed to the doors leaning beneath it.
“Solid oak. These are in great shape. Franny’s going to love them.”
A rusted burn barrel sat in front of them to hold them in place. Jazzi grabbed its rim to tug it out of the way. It didn’t move. The darned thing was heavy. She looked inside it and her jaw dropped.
“What is it?” Jerod came to look, too.
“I think we found Cal’s papers. All of them.” The barrel was almost full. Whoever took the office furniture must have tossed all of their contents in here. She doubted it was the renter, probably whoever bought the antiques. He must have felt uncomfortable tossing serious documents, and there was no place to put them upstairs.
Jerod reached for his cell phone, but Jazzi shook her head. “Let me look through these first.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Gaff asked me to give them to him, and I will. Just let me have them over the weekend. I deserve to be able to tell my family what happened, and Gaff might not share everything with us. His men searched the house. They didn’t find them. We did. I won’t keep them.”
Jerod grinned. “My sweet blond cousin, bending the rules. I’m shocked, but I can live with it.”
“Thanks. I’ll help you carry out the pocket doors if
you help me carry out the papers.”
“Done.”
It took four trips, but when they locked up the house and left, they each took treasures with them. Jazzi couldn’t wait to wade through Cal’s papers.
Chapter 7
Jazzi was on her own tonight. Usually, when Ansel’s girlfriend had to work, he dropped in for supper, but Emily took tonight off, so he was taking her out to eat. Jazzi ordered a pizza, opened a beer, and started digging through Cal’s papers. She spread them out on her farmer’s table and began putting them in order.
The papers at the top of the pile must have come from the last files. They were over thirty years old, from when Cal had the house built. She sorted each stack of receipts and ledgers by year and clipped them together, along with Cal’s appointment calendars. When she reached the year that Lynda disappeared, the pizza came. Good timing. She nibbled on her supreme while she flipped pages in Cal’s date book.
The man was organized . . . and busy. Every square on every page had something scheduled on it. Meet Chuck for lunch—12:30—The Oyster Bar. Supper at the Country Club. Airport at 4:00, 3 days in Barcelona, meetings. She glanced over the pages as she turned them until she reached May. Buy ring for Lynda—Fingers crossed. And later: Talk to Lynda. Set date. Everything was written in smooth, flowing cursive until she came to August. Then the handwriting changed. It shrank in size and became sharper. Lynda wants a year off to think—a year. Followed a few days later with: Have Isabelle buy plane ticket for my trip to Europe—can’t stay here alone Then: Landed in Paris—too depressed to leave room. The date for three days later was circled in red. Lynda leaves for New York. Sad day. A month later: No word from Lynda. Then: Got a postcard, no real message. Months of different cities and appointments followed that. Then finally: Year’s up. Time to go home. Time to marry my Lynda.
Jazzi switched to a glass of wine. She closed the pizza box and carried it into the kitchen. The leftovers would be breakfast tomorrow. It hurt to read the next notations. Cal went from She’s late to Tried to call her. No answer. To Is she ever coming home? Why won’t she just talk to me?
By the time the book ended, Cal had come to terms with the fact that Lynda had met someone new and wasn’t even going to tell him about it. Then he got the postcard from Tampa in December and knew that his suspicions had been right.
The next year’s appointments were all straightforward business meetings, but at the beginning of the year after that, Jazzi found an occasional Meet Isabelle for supper note. Still, she knew his entire life story. He never married anyone else.
She kept stacking each year’s papers into piles and clipping them. She’d flip through every appointment book, but year after year, Cal met Isabelle, traveled, and took care of business.
Her eyes started to burn at midnight. She had only a few more years to go before Cal died. She decided to plow through them. She came abruptly awake when she picked up the book for this year and skimmed to Cal’s last entries. Saw Maury today. Made me think. Could Maury have been right about Lynda giving up a baby? Hired a private detective to find out. A few weeks later, she read: He tracked down the unwed mother’s home where Lynda stayed. Closed now. But will search for records. Later still: He found him, Lynda’s son. Not like the old days. No closed books. Noah Jacobs. 28. I have his phone number. Going to call. The very next day, Cal wrote: Noah happy I called. Wants to hear about his mother. Flying to New York to meet him. Won’t tell his parents. Loves them. Doesn’t want to hurt them. There were no notations in the squares for the next five days. Then: We instantly clicked. A wonderful young man. He’ll drive to River Bluffs to visit me. Can’t wait. After that, Cal rushed to get through projects at work so that he could take a week off to spend it with Noah.
Jazzi couldn’t stop reading. Cal said that Noah only told his parents he had a friend in Indiana whom he wanted to visit. Noah was bringing his tools with him to help Cal with small repairs around the house. Noah liked fixing things. Cal circled the day Noah would arrive. He wrote: Feel like a kid at Christmas. Can’t wait for Noah to get here. In the next day’s square: No Noah. Never came. Tried to call, but no answer. Must have changed his mind. Just like his mother. The handwriting practically drooped.
Jazzi rubbed her forehead. She wanted to reach out and hug Cal. Had Noah’s parents found out? Talked him out of coming, out of having anything to do with Cal? Couldn’t they at least have let Cal know? A short while later, Cal wrote about traveling to San Diego on business. It was the last entry in the book.
Jazzi took a long breath. She’d call Gaff tomorrow. She should call Jerod, too. He’d want to hear the news. She’d have to tell her mom, but she didn’t want to do it at their Sunday meal. Lynda and Cal’s history was depressing.
Chapter 8
Gaff wasn’t thrilled with her. She’d sent him a text when she got up. Jerod, too. She knew his kids got him up early. They both came as soon they got them.
Gaff stood, ramrod stiff, bristling with temper. “I asked you to hand Cal’s papers over to me.”
“And I am.”
“After you read all of Cal’s notes. Did you find anything interesting?”
Jazzi glanced at Jerod. Her cousin looked amused. Gaff was obviously annoyed with her, but what could he do? She was handing him evidence his team didn’t find.
She offered them both mugs of hot coffee. “I found a few things. According to his appointment book, Cal left River Bluffs before Lynda and traveled all over Europe to meet with different businessmen for a year. This year, he remembered that Maury told him that Lynda had a baby. Cal hired a private investigator, and the PI found Lynda’s son, Noah Jacobs. Cal flew to New York to meet him, and they liked each other so much, Noah meant to come to River Bluffs to visit Cal. He didn’t tell his parents. He didn’t want to hurt their feelings.”
Slightly mollified, Gaff turned that over. “Noah meant to come here. He didn’t?”
Jazzi shook her head. “He was a no-show.”
“Poor Cal.” Jerod looked at all of the papers carefully arranged on her table. “He finally met someone who wanted to be family with him, and it fell through.”
“Was his sister his only sibling?” Gaff turned a page in his notebook.
Jerod nodded. “She was younger than him. When he asked Lynda to marry him, she disowned him. He never saw her or her family again. My dad went to Catholic school with both Cal and Katherine when he was growing up . . .”
Jazzi stared. She put up a hand to interrupt. “Wait a minute. Your dad went to Catholic school and mine didn’t? What happened? Did the nuns kick out Dad?”
Jerod barked a laugh. “If any brother got banned, it would have been my old man. No, Arnie and Dad both learned their catechism, but Grandpa got laid off for a few months in 1958 and ran out of money. Catholics don’t teach religion for free. My dad says Doogie, being the youngest, got lucky. The nuns were drill sergeants back then. His knuckles got whacked with rulers so many times, he thought he’d get arthritis when he turned sixteen. The minute Dad graduated, he was done with church.”
Jazzi could see that. Jerod’s dad was as irreverent as he was.
Jerod went on. “Anyway, Cal was three years ahead of Dad. Dad went to trade school to become a mechanic, and when he graduated, he got a job working on foreign cars. Cal and his friends always had money, bought expensive models. Dad worked on most of their repairs, kept in touch with Cal and his buddies that way. They thought Cal was nuts when he hooked up with Lynda, but they’d never turn their backs on him like Katherine did.”
Gaff looked up from his notes and glanced at Jazzi’s leather couch. She nodded for him to take a seat. “When I called Cal’s nephews, they said they hadn’t seen Cal in years.”
“Katherine’s a snob,” Jerod said. “My dad said she chased dollar signs harder than greyhounds chase rabbits.”
Jazzi snorted. “And Katherine called Lynda a gold digger!�
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Even happier with the notes he’d taken, Gaff turned to Jerod. “Does your dad know Tim?”
“No, Tim’s not from River Bluffs. Katherine met him in college. Married him because she thought he was going to make big bucks. Instead, he ran three businesses into the ground, almost went bankrupt, but Katherine still acts like royalty. Thought Lynda was beneath her.”
“Beneath her?” Jazzi stared. “How?”
“She never went to college and attended public school. Katherine called her a ‘commoner.’ Guess how we’d rate?”
Did people still care that much about status? Katherine obviously did. Jazzi grinned. “Do you care?”
“Do you have to ask? But Katherine would take one look at your nails and snub you.”
“Forget Katherine.”
Gaff took a minute to collect his thoughts. “When I talked to Cal’s friends, they said he never got serious about another woman after Lynda.”
“Sad, huh? When I read his notes, he had dinner with Isabelle a lot, but only thought of her as a friend. Lynda was like a wrecking ball, wasn’t she? She knocked men off their feet and left them off balance when she moved to the next guy.” But who was she to talk? She’d moved in with Chad and couldn’t make it work. She thought they were on the same page, but once they lived together, he pressured her to stay home to cook and clean and have his children. Not her style.
Gaff leaned back against the soft leather, resting his arm on the back of the sofa. “His friends said Cal was devastated when Lynda decided to go to New York.”
Chad hadn’t been overjoyed when Jazzi moved out and found an apartment either.
Jerod started to the kitchen. “I need something to cool me off. Got any iced tea?”
“Top shelf of the refrigerator.”
“Sugar?”
“Yup, it’s sweet enough for you.”
“Want some, Gaff?” he called.
“Wouldn’t mind.”
