by Lea Wait
“How awful! I knew there were incidents against Muslims after 9/11, but I didn’t know there were any here.”
“They kept it pretty quiet. I asked around, but couldn’t come up with anything. I remember the mother though. A pretty blonde lady who was having a rough time. One son murdered by terrorists, and then the other son accused of terrorism.”
“I can imagine.” Maggie hesitated. “I heard Abdullah’s mother killed herself.”
“I didn’t know that!” Al looked past Maggie into the gym where Abdullah was taping the inside corner of one of the booths. “Poor kid. He has had a rough time. I’m glad he’s back in school.”
“I’m glad he decided to come and help us; maybe he’ll make new friends.” Maggie turned toward the other gym, then turned back.
“Al, did you say Abdullah’s mother was blonde?”
“Yup. Lots of curls, too.”
“Then she wasn’t Saudi?”
“No, I don’t think so. I asked about her husband, and she sort of fudged around. I don’t think she was married. But she did say the father of her sons was Saudi. They’d met in college. She didn’t mention working, and she stopped in during the day. I sort of assumed the guy in Saudi Arabia was supporting them.”
Maggie nodded. “That’s interesting.” She checked her watch. “I’ve got to see how Will is doing. The electricians should be leaving about now.”
As if on cue, Will came out into the lobby. “I thought I heard my lady out here. The electricians are cleaning up for the day. That gym is wired, Maggie.”
“Great! They’ll just have the second gym to do in the morning, and we’ve almost finished the taping.”
“Claudia ordered all that Chinese food for lunch. If you’ll let me contribute, why don’t I order pizza for all of us for dinner,” said Al. “You two, and me, and Claudia and the three young men. We’re all tired and I suspect the young people could use some sustenance.”
Will and Maggie looked at each other. Earlier they’d thought of something a bit more special. But now they were both exhausted. And Gussie and Ben had the steak to eat at home.
Maggie voiced Will’s thoughts, too. “Maybe pizza would be good for all of us. That’s kind of you, Al.”
“I’m not that altruistic,” said Al. “I’m starving, too. I’ll go ahead and order several pizzas with different toppings. The pizzeria should be able to deliver within half an hour or so.”
“Why don’t you walk through the gym I’ve been working in to make sure everything is the way you want it, Maggie,” Will said. “I’ll go and deliver the good news that pizza is on its way and see how the rest of the crew is doing.”
Maggie walked through the first gym quickly. All was in order: booth boundaries marked on the floor, and electrical power outlets in the booths that had paid extra for it. So far, so good; they’d finish marking off the booths in the second gym, and then everyone could go home and get a good night’s rest.
Except for Al, who was sleeping here.
Right now it looked as though all the planning was paying off.
The setup was on target. Nothing unexpected had happened. The police were no doubt right: threats were nothing unless actions followed them.
By the time she got back to the lobby she felt much more relaxed. It seemed everyone else did, too. The pizza was on its way, and Eric and Will were sitting on the floor and chatting quietly, while Claudia was walking through the gym, picking up pieces of tape and paper that had fallen on the floor. Abdullah just stood, stretching a bit, watching the others. Hal was checking his watch. Maybe he had to be back at Carole’s at a certain time.
“Your help has made the work go so much faster this afternoon,” said Maggie. “Hal, I saw you looking at your watch. If you need to go somewhere, please, go ahead. Although we’d love for you to stay and have pizza. And help us finish this room!” She touched Hal’s arm lightly.
“I’m happy to help out. I don’t have any other plans for right now.”
Maggie nodded. “Great! And, Abdullah, I’ve been meaning to ask you . . . I’m grateful, but why did you volunteer to help with this antiques show? Most students don’t want to spend their vacation time on campus!”
“Adoption is a good thing,” Abdullah said.
“A lot of people think so,” Maggie said carefully, thinking of the threatening letters and telephone call. “Especially when they’re involved with adoption in some way. Like Eric, over there with Will. He’s adopted, you know. And Hal, you were adopted.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m thinking about adopting a child.”
Abdullah looked at her. “I wondered if you were. Why else would someone do so much work for an adoption organization?”
“Maybe because, even if I decide not to adopt, I’m impressed by everything OWOC does. They help children all over the world come home to families who want them. That’s a wonderful purpose for an organization.”
“Children who don’t have families can be in difficult situations. Or they can be well cared for by institutions,” said Abdullah.
“Organizations and institutions may be well meaning, but they can’t always give the individual attention and love that children need and deserve.”
“But to do that families must understand the individual needs of the children,” added Hal.
“Exactly!” Maggie nodded. “If you don’t mind my asking—were you adopted, Abdullah?”
“No!” His voice was louder than necessary. “Do I look as though I were adopted?”
“You can’t tell someone is adopted by looking at them,” said Maggie. “I just wondered whether you had ties to adoption, since you were taking so much time to help us.” Abdullah looked uncomfortable, and Maggie felt bad for pressing the issue just to satisfy her own curiosity.
“Pizza’s here!” called Al from the door of the gym.
They sat on the lobby floor and focused on who wanted plain slices, and who wanted mushrooms and onions. Important issues. Issues that could be resolved.
Al’s phone rang once.
He walked away as he answered it.
When he got back, he said quietly to Maggie, who had just finished her second slice of fully loaded vegetarian pizza, “That was the police. They wondered how long everyone would be here tonight. They’re keeping track of cars in the parking lot.”
Maggie hesitated. “Have they seen anything suspicious?”
“No, not at all,” Al said. “They’d just thought we’d all be home by now. I told them I was staying the night, and which car was mine. The rest of you were finishing up and I thought you’d be gone by seven thirty or so.”
Maggie nodded. “I hope so. Everything’s gone better than I thought it might today. And we all need some rest before tomorrow. The gymnasium should be quiet for the night.”
“I’m hoping so.” Al smiled. “Now I’ve had dinner, and there’s candy in a machine for dessert, and no competition for the showers. I even brought in a portable TV. So I’ll be set. I figure every couple of hours I’ll do a walk-through, unless I hear something in the meantime. The police know I’ll be here, so they won’t worry about a light or two. And they’ll drive around the parking lot a few times during the night. None of us expect any problems. Tomorrow is the real test.”
“I don’t even want to think about it,” said Maggie. “This has been such a lovely, peaceful, productive day.”
At that moment the gym shook. A loud explosion erupted close by. Claudia screamed; Maggie froze. Al dialed his cell phone as he ran to the window overlooking the parking lot.
“We need fire and police help outside the Whitcomb Gymnasium at Somerset College. Stat. A car in the parking lot’s just exploded, and it’s burning.” He hesitated. “No, thank goodness. No injuries.”
Chapter 31
Godey’s Fashions for December 1872. A double-fold, hand-colored engraving from Godey’s Magazine, illustrating the latest fashions from Paris for American women. (It also often included patterns f
or trimmings and embroideries.) This unusual print features a bride, in the center of the page, being handed a black mantilla by a sad-looking woman in an elegantly embroidered dress. A woman and a young boy wearing purple, the light color of mourning, are to the side. Has the bride just learned of the death of someone close to her? The question is raised, but left unanswered. 8.75 x 11 inches. Price: $65.
Al immediately turned to the six people who were still eating pizza in the lobby of the gym. They could all see what had happened through the large glass window overlooking the parking lot.
“No!” Maggie whispered, her hand over her mouth. Will put his arm around her and tried to turn her away from the view, but she refused to move. Abdullah sank down to his knees, covering his head.
How awful. He must be reliving the explosions at the World Trade Center. Eric, who had also lost a brother, knelt down and put his arm on Abdullah’s shoulder. Hal just stared, in shock or fascination.
“What the hell happened?” asked Claudia, running toward the glass window. “Maggie’s van just blew up!”
“That’s exactly what happened,” said Al. “I’ve called 911. Everyone, get back as far as you can from the window. If there are any other explosions the glass could shatter.”
They all moved back, but everyone kept watching in fascination. Parts of Maggie’s blue van were all over the parking lot. What was left of it was burning in a blaze of fiery gasoline as high as the gym. The van was gone.
The next question was, would it take anything else with it?
Thank goodness the gym is made of steel and concrete, Maggie thought. Her van was in the center of the parking lot, about fifteen spaces from the building. Three other cars were in the lot. They must be Al’s, Claudia’s, and either Abdullah’s or Eric’s.
The one closest to the fire was a small red sedan.
“How the hell could this have happened?” said Claudia. “And how fast will that fire department get here?” Her usually animated face was pale, her wavy hair flying in all directions. She pointed toward the parking lot. “The red car near Maggie’s. That’s mine.”
Its body was already scarred by flying fragments.
“Was there anything in your van that would fuel the fire, Maggie?” asked Al.
“Nothing except the gas in the gas tank,” she said. “I hadn’t packed my van for the antiques show yet.”
Will’s arm tightened around her shoulders. She had lost her van. It had been part of her life for ten years, and she would miss it. And not relish having to buy another. Tears of grief and anger filled her eyes. But at least she hadn’t also lost thousands of dollars worth of prints. And she was still alive. Maggie started to shake when she realized that in another forty-five minutes or so she and Will would have been in the van.
As they watched the pyre, two fire engines and three police cars converged on the parking lot.
“Maggie,” said Al. “Can I see you for a moment?”
Chapter 32
Untitled. Three women crudely whittled out of wooden pegs; each has a painted face and black hair and a colored peg “body.” Each ends in a rough squared-off peg apparently for display in some sort of stand. From Czechoslovakian Folk Toys by Roberta Samsour, folio printed in Prague, 1941. 8 x 10.5 inches. Price: $40.
Will followed Maggie into the small room Maggie had used for her meeting with the facilities management staff only three days before. Al closed the door.
“I assume your friend knows what’s happening?” Al said to Maggie.
She nodded. “Will knows what I know. I’m not sure that covers what’s happening now.”
“I don’t want to alarm any of the younger people.”
Maggie felt old. Claudia was thirty-two, but, indeed, under these conditions, in Al’s mind she was as much a “young person” as Abdullah or Eric or Hal.
“I know you haven’t been home all day, but you said you had a friend there.”
Maggie nodded.
“If any threats or messages had been called to your home, then you would have heard about them.”
“Gussie said she’d answer my phone. She didn’t have a telephone number for the gym, but if something were critical, she would have driven here.” And thank goodness she hadn’t, Maggie thought.
“And I’m assuming if the agency had heard anything, they would have found you.”
“Everyone on the OWOC staff knew I’d be here at the gym today.”
“So let’s assume there were no additional warnings. No additional threats.”
Will put his hand over Maggie’s. “You’re ruling out the possibility this was some sort of automotive malfunction. You’re assuming someone blew the van up intentionally.”
Al nodded. “Absolutely. You can be thankful it wasn’t set to explode when you turned the ignition on.” He glanced at his watch. “It blew at about six o’clock. The van’s been parked here all day, right? You got here about eight thirty.”
“Yes. But I left from about ten thirty until eleven thirty.”
“And I used the van about one o’clock to go and buy some duct tape,” added Will. “So the van has only been parked there since about one thirty.”
“Then whoever put something in it or on it or under it did it after one thirty.” Al nodded. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure we all agreed on a time line before the police started asking questions.”
There was a knock on the door. It was Abdullah. “Excuse me, but there’s a cop out here who wants to see you, Professor Summer.”
They all went out into the lobby. In the short time they’d been away from the window, the fire department had covered Maggie’s van with foam. The fire was under control. At least Claudia’s car hadn’t been demolished, too, thought Maggie, trying to take solace in something.
“Hi, Al,” said Detective Luciani. “And Professor Summer. And . . .”
“This is my friend Will Brewer, Detective. From Buffalo, New York. He’s here for the antiques show.”
“Will, do you think you could get the others away from the windows and see if you could all finish up taping the floor for the show?”
Will hesitated.
“Please? They don’t need to hear and see everything now. The excitement is over. And it would really help if you could finish the floor.” Maggie looked at him meaningfully. “I’m all right. Really.”
“I’m not sure doing more to get this place ready for an antiques show is a good idea,” said Will. “But all right. For now.” He went over to where the others were silently standing, staring out at the parking lot, and headed them back into the gym. None of them wanted to go back to the work they’d been doing all afternoon.
“Remember when I told you chances were that threat you received was just talk?” said Detective Luciani.
Maggie nodded. “Right.”
“Well, now we’re beyond talk. Have you heard or seen any new threats today?”
Al and Maggie shook their heads. “So far as we know, there’s been nothing,” said Maggie. “Unless something was received at the agency.”
“We’ve already been in touch with Mrs. Drummond. She hasn’t heard anything new. And it was your van that was blown up, Maggie. That had to be intentional.”
“Was it a bomb?” asked Al.
“Some sort of detonating device, I’d guess. We’ll get the experts in to decide officially,” said the detective. “Did either of you see anyone in the parking lot this afternoon?”
“The car was parked in that spot about one thirty,” said Maggie. “Will did an errand and left it there.”
“How long have you known Mr. Brewer?” asked Detective Luciani.
“About a year,” said Maggie indignantly, “and there’s no way he blew up my van! He’s a close personal friend.”
“He just got here today from Buffalo?”
“Early this morning. His RV is parked in front of my house right now. He’s a dealer doing the show this weekend. He came early to help set up.”
“And he was the las
t one you know was in your van.”
“Yes.” Maggie’s voice was wavering. “But that doesn’t mean he blew it up!”
“I didn’t say he did. But we have to know who’s been here.”
“I haven’t been watching the parking lot all afternoon, but I did look out whenever I walked around. I’ve been keeping an eye on doors and windows and such,” said Al. “I didn’t see anyone in the parking lot who isn’t here now.”
“Who, other than Mr. Brewer, are these people?”
“My secretary, Claudia Hall. She works here at the college in the American Studies department,” said Maggie. “And Eric Sloane.”
Luciani nodded. “I recognized him. He’s the brother of the boy who was killed earlier this week. I’d think he’d be with his family now.”
“It was his choice to volunteer to help out here. He also works here at the college. The antiques show is supporting the agency which placed him, and most of his brothers and sisters, in their family. He could have stayed home. I certainly would have understood. Maybe he wanted to get away from home for a few hours.”
“And the other two men?”
“Abdullah Jaleel. He’s a student here. He also volunteered to help out with the show. And Hal Hanson. He was adopted by a couple here in town ten years ago, but they were killed in a fire last winter. He’s staying with Carole Drummond and her husband. All four of them have spent the whole afternoon in the gym, measuring out booths. They weren’t wandering around the parking lot!”
“And whose cars are out there? Besides yours, Professor Summer.”
“Mine is the blue Plymouth over in the far corner,” said Al. “The red sedan belongs to Claudia.”
“Glad we got here fast enough so that one didn’t blow, too,” said Luciani. “And how did the other three volunteers get here? There’s only one other car out there. A gray Honda.”
