“So why are we buying time?” Syd asked.
“I wanna know what’s in Jack's safe. Don't you?”
Chapter 26
Syd scrambled out of the shower and brushed her teeth before she could digest what Jim had said about Olivier. She considered if he could have had something to do with the plane accident. He was here in the Gorge right before the accident and he had been in Clarence's plane. The fact that he knew how to fly added to his potential guilt. Syd looked out the bathroom window up to the winery. The doors stood open, and Jim had not emerged yet. Olivier might be sweating it out under Jim's pointed questions. Jim could be overbearing, and Olivier had let on that he really didn't enjoy his interrogations.
Charlie waited in the living room while Syd was in the shower. She was pacing when Syd entered a moment later, her hair still wet.
“About time! Sheesh, let's go.” Charlie grabbed her jacket, keys, and a bottle of Uncle's private reserve. Syd was wearing some fresh clothes that Charlie had brought down for her.
“What are those?” Charlie asked, looking over Syd in her favorite pair of jeans.
“My jeans. Why are you looking at me like that?”
Charlie reached down and pulled the waist band of her pants. They gapped a full four inches from her stomach.
“What can I say? Grief is a good diet.”
“And you hardly ate your lunch. Great. Now I have to add nursemaid to an anorexic to my list of Sydney nanny tasks.”
“I've got the flu, for fucksake.” Syd said in her defense, but she secretly noted the concern in Charlie's voice and made a vow to pay more attention to her appetite. Charlie strode out the door in her long strides, with Syd trotting to keep up. They looked in the direction of the winery for signs of Jim as they climbed into Charlie's Jetta. In spite of everything, Sydney felt a thrill of excitement, just like she used to when she and Charlie were out on a naughty adventure.
“Okay, so what makes you think you can get into that safe, Charlie?” Syd asked.
Charlie coasted stealthily down part of the driveway, trying to not make too much sound in the gravel.
“I talked to Becky this morning,” Charlie said.
“Yeah? I'm pretty sure Jim did too.”
“Mmhmm. He did. Only Becky doesn't like him much. She thinks Dad looks down his nose at Jack. She's right, of course. Anyway, she didn't say much to Dad. And she was pretty shook up. I'm thinking that after hours of cleaning up she may have recovered a bit and she might have more to say to us girls. Especially for a bottle of that reserve. It's her fav. She had four glasses of it at the memorial.” She turned and winked at Syd.
~
They discovered Becky on the floor behind Jack's desk ten minutes later, muttering to herself. As usual, Charlie's instincts were dead on. Becky had been stacking loose papers all morning, dealing with insurance agents and police while trying to field the calls for Jack from concerned clients. She looked completely frazzled.
Charlie poked her head in the door. “Hey, Becky. Need a hand?” She had her hands in her pockets and sauntered in the room with her stiff-legged nonchalance that made Syd nearly burst into a fit of giggles. Her lack of subtlety was lost on Becky.
“Oh, hi,” Becky stammered. “Uh, I guess I could use a hand.” She brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She was nearly the same age as Syd and Charlie and had gone to school with them. But she adopted the dress and mannerisms of local females that made her appear a decade older. She wore a nondescript office wardrobe heavy with gray gabardine and polyester, Dansko clogs, and wild-printed socks. Her hair was done in a new style; long layers with a few colors of a fresh weave striping her flat-ironed tresses. Her nails were fake acrylics with a french polish and rhinestones. She wore heavy makeup and her eyes were streaked with tear-stained mascara.
Charlie plopped down on the ground next to her like a long-limbed six-year-old and began sorting papers. Syd slid inconspicuously into the room, feeling uncomfortable about pumping Becky for information while she was in the middle of a crisis.
“Hey,” Syd said shyly.
Becky sat up on her heels. She squinted with suspicion, glancing at them one at a time. “Okay, you two. I didn't just fall off the turnip truck. What's up?”
'So...we were wondering,” Charlie began. Syd stood by the doorway, feeling disgusted. She felt bad for Becky.
“I had a prowler last night too, Becky,” Syd said, speaking before Charlie could continue. “Some guy peeping into my house. I think it happened before he got here. The same guy, I think. Alejandro, our foreman, ran after him with a bat and scared him off. I'm not sure he would have stopped at burglary if he had gotten in either, by the way. He wanted something that your boss had, and something that I have too. So it must be something to do with Clarence's will. Or his papers. Either way, we need to know what’s missing here.”
Becky listened blankly. She sat still, digesting the thought for a full minute in silence. “And what about Jim Yesler?”
“The Sheriff is on another trail right now,” Charlie said. And then she whistled a cliché version of non-complicity, rolling her eyes.
“Right,” Becky said, smiling. She crawled over to the safe a few feet away and worked the dial. “Jack put all of Clarence's stuff back in here the day before yesterday. I shouldn't do this, by the way. Client privileges and all that. But I’m guessing you’re the client now.” She opened it and pulled out a stack of papers and files, including the red file of Clarence's will. “So I don't think the guy got what he was looking for. The safe wasn’t opened.”
“Cool, thanks,” Charlie said, sounding more than a little surprised that the plan was working.
Syd rifled through the stack carefully. “Well, don't just stand there, help me,” she said with mock exasperation. Both women jumped to it, grabbing files and poring through them.
“What are we looking for?” Charlie asked.
“A medical report for insurance,” Syd said. “It would be separate from the policy, I think. In a fax? Somewhere in this stack, maybe?” The women searched the entire stack of files, looking through the papers page by page after a cursory look didn't pan out.
“He said it was here,” Syd said more to herself than to the women in the room. She jumped at a knock on the open door.
“Sorry if I'm interrupting anything, Becky,” said Paul Renquest, appearing suddenly at the door. “Hello, Sydney. I've got the glass guys on for the insurance claim. We'll get this window fixed up by close today. Geez! What a mess.”
“Hey, Paul,” Syd said. Just then she had a sudden epiphany. “Hey, Paul. Did Jack have a chance to meet up with you on Tuesday?”
“Yup. As a matter of fact, he did.” His expression changed at her question and he looked tight-lipped and reluctant to talk to her.
“Something about a falsified medical report?” she asked.
He threw up his hands in defense. “Now, Sydney. I'm not really at liberty to discuss–”
“Come off it, Paul. I met with Jack on Tuesday morning. I know all about it. Do you have it?”
“Yup,” he said, giving up.
“Have you contacted Feldman?” Syd demanded.
Paul shook his head.
“Oh, God!” Becky interjected. She covered her mouth with her hand.
“Oh God what?” Charlie asked, alarmed and having trouble keeping up.
“Hans Feldman. He came by right after you left, Sydney. He was really pissed off. He left the office screaming at Jack.”
“Did you tell the Sheriff this?” Charlie asked.
“I've been a little preoccupied,” Becky answered cagily.
“Preoccupied?” Charlie raised her voice.
“And,” Becky took a deep breath, “and Jack told me not to tell anyone about it.”
“Why on earth would he tell you that?” Charlie demanded.
“Because Jack was a benefactor in the same life insurance policy,” Syd said. “That could potentially incriminate him too.” Paul n
odded silently.
“But if he didn't know about it–” Charlie asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Paul said. “He’d stand to gain from it and it would look really bad for him. We were trying to find a legal way to clear Jack before investigating it. The signing doctor is conveniently on sabbatical and I haven't heard back from the medical director.”
“Okay, so Hans Feldman came and threatened Jack,” Charlie said, hands on her heels and sitting back. “Any other nefarious plots unfold that you aren't telling us about?” She glared at Becky, who was sinking into the mauve carpet.
“A phone call,” Becky said. “A man asking Jack if he had all the files for Clarence's will, I think.”
“Jack told you this?” Charlie asked.
Becky looked guilty again. “I listened in from my desk. I don't usually do that, but after Hans threw something at Jack and stormed out...he threatened him. I was concerned.” She pleaded.
“Who was on the phone?” Syd asked.
“I didn't get on the line soon enough to hear. But he asked if Jack still had something. Jack said it was none of his business. The guy laughed and said it was entirely his business. Jack told him to go fuck himself. Called him a weasel. I've never heard Jack say anything like that before. Then he just hung up.” Becky shook her head in shock, looking unglued. Charlie crawled over and put her arm around her.
“God, I'm glad you’re a nosy bitch, Becky Sanford.” Charlie kissed her on her forehead. Becky managed a meek smile.
Sydney sat on the ground, perplexed. “What did Feldman throw at Jack, Becky?”
Becky shrugged her shoulders. “This, I think.” She picked something up from the desk that Syd hadn’t seen earlier. Syd held out her hand. Becky gave her a small ivory figurine roughly carved into a female sitting in a chair. It was the white queen chess piece from an Isle of Lewis chess set.
“Feldman had opened a box that Jack had for him. It was from Clarence's will.”
Syd worked the piece in her hand, remembering the feel of the ivory in her fingers. The weight of it. A queen's sacrifice. She held it up to Charlie to see.
“Well, first I think Dad needs to pay Hans Feldman a visit,” Charlie said, looking pleased with herself.
Chapter 27
The women rolled back into the driveway, only to find a massive 18-wheeler blocking the road. Olivier and Jim were loading barrels from the semi into the back of the ancient winery flatbed truck, working together in silence. The 18-wheeler couldn’t make it up the steep gravel road to the winery, and the forklift could not be driven on gravel. The ritual of unloading barrels and large pallets of bottles in the middle of the driveway had become a common event at the winery. The two women got out of the car and watched the men for a moment before Syd swung her leg up and climbed up into the container of the delivery truck. She started to roll out barrels wrapped in plastic wrap with the driver. She counted a dozen more with Blackwell written in blue marker on the plastic.
She rolled the barrels expertly, end over end. She stopped each barrel when it reached the lip of the truck, where she eased it down to the two men standing ready. Olivier grabbed the barrel end by the head, and Jim caught the other end as they took the weight off the trailer. They hoisted the barrel onto the flatbed behind them while Charlie righted it on the barrel heads in the flatbed. They managed to unload over a dozen barrels in less than ten minutes. Syd dropped down from the container onto the gravel, feeling dizzy. She steadied herself on the bumper. She looked up to see Olivier watching her with a frown. Charlie and Jim were glaring openly at each other, the silent hostility with which they worked for the last few minutes now in danger of breaking into a screaming match.
“I'll sign it,” Syd said in an overly cheerful voice when the driver presented the invoice to the Sheriff. Apparently, the driver was as unnerved by the Sheriff unloading barrels as they were. Syd felt sorry for Jim for a moment, always intimidating people before he got a chance to show his sweet side. But at the moment, he wasn't exactly making friends.
She walked back over to the flatbed after chatting with the driver. There she found Charlie and Jim snarling at each other through clenched teeth. They were equally matched, as far as she could see. All three stood on the flatbed, working the barrels close together for the short ride up the gravel drive to the winery.
“I said to stay out of trouble, young lady,” Jim growled as he butted the barrels closer together with demonstrative violence. Syd jumped up into the bed with them and timidly helped Olivier with the ratcheting straps.
“Face it, Dad. Becky wasn’t going to tell you all this stuff. We helped you. Besides, you were too busy looking in the wrong place.” Charlie stood with her hands on her hips. Olivier adjusted the barrels that Jim moved into place gently and in silence, keeping his head down.
“I would have taken her in for questioning if she wouldn't talk to me,” he growled.
“Nice, because she deserves that. Her boss tells her to stay quiet and he nearly gets himself killed. And then her office gets trashed by some maniac. And what do the cops do? They take her away in a cruiser. And you wonder why the general populace loves ya’, Dad.” Charlie stared her father down, almost eye to eye.
“I would have asked her nicely,” he sneered back at her, but he was losing steam.
“Right. Interrogating the victim is a nice thing to do.” Charlie smiled, aware she was gaining the upper hand.
“Yeah, well I'm trying to keep you girls from being victims too.”
“Are there any girls here, Dad? Because as far as I can see, Syd and I are two grown women. We’re in our thirties for fuck sake.” Charlie smiled to soften the blow, but Jim looked truly beaten.
Syd finished tying off the loose end of the strap and patted Jim on the back. She suspected that Charlie had gained them enough ground to warrant their participation in the investigation for a few hours at least. Jim was crestfallen that his girls had accused him of being patronizing or over-protective. Syd guessed that Charlie would play it out as long as she could, but their time was limited. In the meantime, she would have to play along with Charlie and let Jim brood a bit. She stepped toward Olivier to help with the last strap.
“Why are the barrels so late?” she asked.
“The cooperage in Napa was behind. And then I postponed the delivery last week. I forgot the truck was coming today.” He avoided her eyes and looked toward Jim.
“It's blocking the cruiser, at least,” she smiled back at him. “And the way to the airport, in case you were planning on flying out of here.”
Olivier closed his eyes and shook his head. “So the fact that I flew here and stopped for a day before I flew up north makes me a murderer?” He looked tired and weary. She regretted saying anything.
“I have no idea what to think, Olivier. I don't know anything about you. All that I know is that you’re busting your ass to hold this harvest together in all of this chaos. And I’m grateful for that. I'm going to try to help more, I promise.”
“You might have to. He asked me down to the station. I don't know what that means.” he said, looking a bit lost.
“Well, Charlie just bought you some time. And I need help unloading these barrels.”
“Okay. So who buys a forklift that can't go in gravel?” he teased, looking relieved.
“A man who’s too cheap to trade in for a better model.” she answered.
“Or one who’s too sentimental to get rid of the one his daughter painted.”
“Niece,” she said, correcting him. But she knew that he made the mistake on purpose.
~
After they unloaded the barrels up on the crushpad, they all stood around leaning on the barrels. Jim listened to Charlie and Syd recount the details of their conversation with Becky and Paul with surprising patience and interest. He entertained their theories with equal patience. However, he drew the line when it came to his visit to Hans Feldman later that afternoon. He was going alone. He made the girls promise to stay put. T
hey had no intention of interfering with the questioning at any rate, so it wasn’t difficult to comply, although Charlie made a show of it anyway. Syd was beginning to understand the complexity of the dance that Charlie could play with her father when she needed to. Charlie handled the man with deft manipulation, without compromising his feelings or best intentions. She managed to turn him around by the time he had left them, unconsciously bolstering his fragile paternalism with genuine affection. Syd marveled at their relationship.
After Jim steered his cruiser down the driveway, the women strolled down back to the house and rummaged through the refrigerator for beers.
“Do you think your dad will take him in?” Syd asked.
“Take who where?” Charlie asked, opening a beer and shuffling into the living room.
“Feldman to the Sheriff's station,” Syd said impatiently.
“Oh. Maybe, yeah.” She frowned again and plopped down onto the couch.
“At least Olivier’s safe to do punchdowns tonight,” Syd joked. “I'm so weak I might faint.”
“Mmhmm,” Charlie mumbled, sipping her beer.
“Okay, where are you, Charlie?” Syd asked.
“Something Marcus said to me last night,” she said, pausing in thought as she sipped her beer. Syd waited patiently for Charlie to finish. “It's probably nothing. You should call him though. Maybe share your dreams with him?” she teased.
Syd blushed in spite of herself.
Chapter 28
Jim returned to the house frustrated. He and Charlie were discussing his visit with Hans Feldman at the table when Syd came looking for the voices that had awakened her from a nap. She had gone to bed that afternoon with a throbbing headache and a painful throat. She may have napped for a few hours. She woke up with a large pool of saliva on her pillow and a dry mouth. Her sinuses were as stuffed up as ever, and she had to breathe with her mouth open in her sleep. Jim and Charlie sat with plates, beers, and a few paper bags of food. Syd's mouth watered as she sat down with them. She was grateful for the burritos and spicy hot sauce from her favorite taco stand, compliments of the contrite man in uniform. Syd listened as she took a seat and loaded her plate. She popped the top off a sour beer.
A Tainted Finish: A Sydney McGrath Mystery Page 16
