Disorderly Conduct

by Mary Feliz

  Teddy snorted. “We call her the ‘ghost’ because she wears super-thick sunscreen. The mineral stuff with zinc. I think she’d had skin cancer. All those scars, right?”

  “Like, when Emily wears it, it’s cool, right?” David said, waving his hand in front of his face. “With the colors, like face paint. But on Katherine, it was just—weird.” Emily’s name was coming up in conversation around our house more and more frequently. I’d have to ask Tess if she knew anything about her. Parents like Tess, who’d lived in the area all her life, knew so many kids from sports, Mommy and Me classes, preschool, and every year of elementary school. To learn as much as those parents already knew about the local kids and local customs, I’d have to be more than a helicopter parent. I’d need to be tethered to my kids 24/7—not something any of us was striving for.

  Jason pulled my attention back to the matter at hand. “Is she married?”

  “Emily?” asked David, his face flushing.

  “No, Katherine,” Jason said. The kids looked at each other with eyebrows raised, communicating telepathically, or at least on a wavelength inaudible to adults. They conferred aloud, but their words were muffled. Finally, they shrugged as one and David spoke. “Maybe. There was a guy we saw pick her up sometimes. He had a van with one of those super-cool wheelchair lifts.” David had a fascination with anything mechanical, and with the clever adaptations that made life easier for people who might otherwise consider themselves disabled.

  “We saw her with this other person too. An older lady with white hair. Kinda round. Short.”

  “Do you know the names of either of these people?” Jason made a note with a stubby pencil in a dog-eared notebook that harkened back to the days of the early TV detectives, like Columbo and Sergeant Joe Friday from Dragnet.

  The boys shook their heads, but Brian then sheepishly added, “We called them Mr. and Mrs. Claus.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find their names. And you’ve given us more information than we had a few minutes ago. But...why do you think we should look into Katherine?”

  David seemed to have been silently appointed the group’s spokesperson. “There was something off. Like, she wanted Patrick to herself. She got antsy when he talked to anyone else, and especially tense when both Patrick and the wheelchair guy were around at the same time.” He waved his hand in the air as if waiting to be called on in class. “Sean. His name was Sean. Sean Philips. And her last name was McNamara or something. If they were married, they had different last names. He was old too. Older than Katherine.”

  “Way older,” added Brian. “More like Mrs. Claus’s age. Maybe he’s married to her?”

  I glanced at Max, and we communicated silently in our own way. It was time to get the boys moving. Jason was adept at reading subtle cues and must have agreed with us. “You guys want to go for a run? You missed your training last night and this morning.” He glanced at me for confirmation. “I’ll go with you, if it’s okay with your mom. Just to make sure you don’t get waylaid by gossipy neighbors or news vans. We’ll take the dogs.”

  So much for my hope to get us moved back home today. One more night at Tess’s house was in order. The boys leaped up from the table. “Dishes,” I prompted, and they gathered up their plates and silverware before bumping and caroming down the hall to get their gear together. Tomorrow, I promised myself, we’d move this herd back up the hill to our house, where we’d have more space and freedom from the news crews.

  Max had gotten a great start on the dishes by the time the boys came out and stood on one foot or the other as they tied their running shoes. “When you get back, get your stuff together, and we’ll load up what we can. Tomorrow you can sleep in your own beds.” He reached out an arm to encircle Teddy. “Maggie and I will act as your mom and dad for as long as you need us to be. You and Mozart can crash in the third-floor suite if you want. Or in Brian or David’s room. But you’re coming with us, no matter what, so you pack up your gear too, okay?”

  Teddy’s face revealed a series of expressions, showing he was grateful, embarrassed, reassured, and fearful about how long the situation might last.

  Brian, as usual, broke the tension. “Great. Just what every teenager begs for. More parental supervision.” His goofy face and melodramatic sigh made us all laugh. Jason ushered the boys out the door, and they stretched in the front yard. The sound of their friendly banter and the slap of their shoes on the pavement began loudly and then faded in the distance.

  I turned to Elaine and Max. “Let’s look at that list of suspects,” I said. “I’ve got a plan.”

  Chapter 15

  If you have children who’ll need to be picked up from a school, camp, or day care, be sure you know each organization’s identification requirements. In the chaos surrounding an emergency situation, volunteers may be told to rigorously enforce rules. And those volunteers may not recognize you or your children.

  From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald

  Simplicity Itself Organizing Services

  Tuesday, August 8, Morning

  A perfectly organized plan is no match for the reality of modern life. The night before, I’d hoped to divvy up our growing list of suspects, sharing the names and investigating responsibilities with Max and Elaine. In the end, the list and task of delving into the background of the people we’d identified as possible culprits was all mine. Today, Elaine would be held captive awaiting service on her aging air conditioner, so she agreed to comb through cyberspace gathering as much information as she could from the comfort of her own home.

  Max was in charge of our move back home. I hesitated to drive one of the cars to begin my investigation. Without the extra hauling capacity of my SUV, I feared it would take far too many trips to transfer all of our belongings and everything that Teddy would need to feel at home. Max reminded me that he and the boys were perfectly capable of completing the job without my help. The Olmos cats had suffered enough disruption, and would remain in their own house, where Elaine would check on them daily. The boys and the dogs might be a tad squished in Max’s car, but the journey between Tess’s house and ours was only a few miles, and they’d all be fine.

  Eventually, Max convinced me. I waved good-bye and set off. Robert Wu, Tess’s purported second-in-command, was first up on my interview list. I decided to drive to the real estate office directly, rather than speaking to Robert over the phone. In my experience, most people found it tricky to say no in person.

  Tess had given me a tour of her building a year ago, soon after we moved to Orchard View. She’d bought the property about ten years earlier. Originally built in the 1920s, it was centrally located downtown with plenty of nearby parking. While the working aspects of the building, including plumbing, electricity, and connectivity, were twenty-first century, the ambience was stable, comfortable, old-school California, designed to project an air of tranquility and comfort. I parked about two doors down and walked past a children’s bookstore and a jeweler toward the real estate building.

  As I entered a peaceful courtyard, a young Asian man with one foot out the front door shouted instructions at someone inside. He let the door swing closed behind him, lifted the strap of his computer bag to his shoulders, and took a step forward before he noticed me and stopped abruptly.

  “Sorry!” I apologized for startling him. “Mr. Wu? Robert Wu? Tess Olmos’s colleague?” That last word came out with a bit of a squeak I hoped wasn’t noticeable. I’d started to say “assistant,” but based on what Teddy had told us, that might put Robert on the defensive before I even began. “Colleague” was a more neutral word.

  Robert smiled widely, stepped forward, and held out his hand, looking down at me from the raised redwood deck one step up from the courtyard. “Good morning, Ms.—”

  “McDonald. Maggie McDonald. A friend of Tess’s and the Olmos family. Do you have a moment?” I glanced around the courtyard. A fountain tiled in cobalt blue
and yellow Italian ceramic bubbled quietly with what a sign identified as recycled water. Lavender, rosemary, and other drought-tolerant plants filled beds that surrounded the courtyard, while two of the corners sported cushioned garden chairs and low tables that seemed to invite conversation and relaxation. Tess had intended that her clients feel at home from the moment they decided to consult her.

  I lifted my chin toward the nearest seating area, where a paperback book, coffeepot, and mug gave the impression that someone had stepped away moments earlier.

  Robert scoffed, shifted his computer bag, and held out his right hand. “That’s staging. Tess’s idea. Let’s step inside, and I’ll see what I can do to help. Are you interested in listing a local home? Trading up?” His eyes were shining, and he stepped closer to me. Too close. It was a demonstration of the type of behavior that Teddy had struggled to describe. And no wonder. It was a creepy combination of avarice, unwanted sexual attention, superiority, and condescension. I squelched my desire to kick him in the shins, or worse, and looked up in what I hoped was a disarming fashion.

  He opened the door and invited me inside, where the décor continued the theme of a welcoming home. The room was appointed with wood flooring, a Persian rug, and two soft beige armchairs that sat in front of a white reception counter trimmed with crown molding.

  Robert nodded to the receptionist. I smiled and took a half step forward. The receptionist shook her head slightly and examined the desktop. I knew her well. She’d been a guest in my home, and I’d been present at the birth of her son. I felt hurt and confused by her apparent snub, but I honored Ketifa’s wishes. I winked at her and gave her a look that I hoped communicated something along the lines of “What’s up? We’ll catch up later, yeah?”

  Robert ushered me toward a comfortable arrangement of sofas and chairs surrounded by glassed-in conference rooms. Stairs to the left rose to what I knew to be the heart of the business’s operations, where phones, computers, and printers hummed, and agents worked in banks of modular desks designed for efficiency and ease of use. Clients never saw the upper floor, which was as streamlined as the downstairs was homey. But it reflected the needs of agents who needed to plug in, meet colleagues, and make calls.

  “Can I get you some coffee? A latte? Biscotti?” Robert examined his fingernails. Without waiting for an answer, he shouted to Ketifa, “Kitty! Coffee service for two.” He sat without adding a please or thank-you to his request.

  “Kitty”? Was Ketifa now using a nickname? It seemed so unlike the Ketifa I knew...

  “How can I help? We’re the premiere—” Robert’s question tugged me away from my focus on my friend.

  I chose a seat on a taupe sofa. “No. No. I love my house and have no plans to move. I’m here about Tess.”

  Robert frowned and pushed at his cuticles with a fingernail, then smiled using as few facial muscles as possible. No wonder Teddy had sensed friction between his mom and Robert. Tess had built a successful business focused on providing stellar service to her clients and the community. Being a good neighbor was good business in her book. And it had paid off. Neighbors who’d once asked her advice regarding home repairs, for example, often turned to her when it was time to sell.

  That service-focused notion was apparently one Robert had yet to master, or that he’d learned and discarded now that Tess was temporarily out of the picture. I’d already learned so much about this guy, and I had yet to ask him a question. It seemed my interview was off to a roaring start.

  “You said you were a friend of the family.” Robert brushed invisible lint from his thigh. “So you know that she’s been arrested and is in jail.” He failed to hide a smirk. “Please tell Tess that I’ve got everything under control here. I’m handling her clients and mine, and was actually on my way to meet up with a prospective seller.” He lowered his voice. “One of those dot-com guys up in the hills. He’s taken up flying and wants to move to Atherton, closer to the Palo Alto Airport. I’m hoping to handle both the sale and the new purchase.” He didn’t rub his hands together with glee, but he appeared to want to, desperately.

  “I won’t keep you. It’s just—” Now that I was here, I wasn’t sure how to begin.

  “Go on. How is Tess? It’s so sad. How is poor Timmy holding up?” Robert uttered all the socially acceptable words of concern for the bereaved, but he seemed more interested in fussing with a hangnail on his thumb.

  “Teddy seems to be doing well, under the circumstances. He’s upset about his father, of course. But he’s confident Tess will be cleared. As I’m sure, you are. It’s just these rumors—”

  “Rumors?” Robert watched my face carefully, as if he feared his helpful-friend-and-colleague performance was fraying around the edges. It was.

  “What have you heard?” I asked, leaning forward.

  Robert rubbed his thumbnail over his bottom lip and didn’t say anything for a moment, but then shrugged and mirrored my conspiratorial posture. “At one time, I feared that Patrick was getting in the way of Tess’s ambitions. He seemed to have a tight hold on her schedule. I had plans for taking this business to the next level and collaborating with Tess on a book that would establish us as the experts in real estate here on the Peninsula.” He patted the side of his computer bag. “I’ve got the outline ready to go, but Patrick thought she was already spending too much time at work. She was always reshuffling her schedule to look after Teddy whenever Patrick flaked out.”

  I pursed my lips and shook my head. I knew that the schedule shifting he described was a challenge for any good parent, mother or father, who was raising kids in a demanding modern world. If it wasn’t a universal problem, companies like Microsoft, Apple, and Google wouldn’t be making so much money on their calendar and scheduling apps.

  “I take it you have no children,” I said, making a supreme effort to keep the judgment out of my voice.

  Robert shook his head. “No children, no spouse, no girlfriend.” He smirked. “No boyfriend either, for that matter.” I fisted my hands. How could Tess have put up with this smarmy know-it-all?

  “I had plenty of time and energy to devote to this business and would have poured my heart into it, if Patrick hadn’t discouraged Tess from capitalizing on my ideas. I never thought Tess would actually kill him. But she was frustrated. It was so sad that she had to fight her own husband for the right to pursue her dreams.”

  My forehead wrinkled, and no matter how hard I tried to force those muscles to relax, they insisted on telegraphing my confusion and disgust over the portrait Robert was painting of Tess’s life. I soaked in the homey atmosphere of the real estate office, knowing that the décor was all Tess. There was no sign of Robert’s money-grubbing input, not on this floor anyway. Perhaps his influence was more visible upstairs than down.

  He waved his hand quickly. “Oh, I know that the story was they were happily married. But separate residences? Seriously? Who does that when they are ‘happily married’?” He waggled his eyebrows and leered. Ick. “Word was, he was having an affair. And bidding for a management position at his company’s outfit in Texas. He’d travel less and be able to buy a mansion for what he was paying on that tiny condo in Mountain View.”

  Anyone who knew Patrick would know the gossip Robert had repeated was a lie. I bristled at the negative portrait he painted of the life of my dearest friends. Luckily, Robert didn’t notice. He rubbed his chin and stared into the middle distance. “She called here a lot. The girlfriend. Worked with Patrick and would relay messages for him. Now, that was weird. What kind of secret girlfriend is so brazen that she calls the wife at work?” He shook his head. “It was straight out of a steamy soap opera.”

  “Do you know her name?”

  “Kate something. No. Katherine. Katherine McNamara. I met her once. Red hair, reed thin, pale as a sheet, and with scars.” He ran his left hand over his right arm and grimaced. “Like she’d been an addict. Or one of those cut
ters.” He made slicing motions on his forearm. “I don’t know what those scars look like, but they could have been from self-harm, you know?”

  I’d had enough. “So you think Tess killed Robert because of this woman?”

  Robert looked shocked. “Of course not. How did you get that impression? I’m only pointing out that the circumstances fit well enough. I can understand why the police or sheriff or whoever is interested in Tess.” He checked his watch. “I have to go, if there’s nothing else.”

  I tried to retract my claws and relax the muscles of my face. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Patrick? Or at least sideline him for a while? Maybe someone who tried to get him out of the way temporarily, but it went wrong? Could killing him have been a mistake? I’ve heard it might have been an accident.” So far, Robert had become my top candidate for the person who wanted Patrick sidelined.

  He spoke so softly that it took a moment for his words to penetrate my meandering thoughts. “...think of anyone who might have been willing to hurt Tess like that. Maybe Patrick was a problem, but anyone who knew Tess knew she doted on Tim—er, Teddy. Hurting Patrick would hurt Teddy, and that meant hurting Tess too.”

  Rats. If Robert sincerely believed those words, that would scratch him off my list of suspects. But what if his remorse had come after the murder? After he’d seen the terrible impact Patrick’s death had on Tess and Teddy? He could have realized how badly he’d miscalculated. I shuddered. The mind of a killer was a dark place. Not for the first time, I wondered why I was spending so much time there. I didn’t entertain the question for long. I had to find Patrick’s killer and free Tess. She needed to be home with Teddy. She wasn’t the killer. And that meant someone else was. Someone else who deserved to face the full force of Orchard View justice.

  Robert cleared his throat and examined his watch again. He stood.