“He’s afraid his mother will gossip. Tell people he’s here on a job,” Allie said, her voice expressionless. Zeph glanced at her to check for anger or hurt.
“Well, he is.” Lincoln looked over his glasses at Zeph with fake sympathy. “Did you really think you were undercover?”
“I thought there might be one or two people in town who didn’t know. And maybe that might include the one I’m looking for. Silly of me.”
“Pretty much.” Lincoln nodded. “But you’re quite correct. Right now, it’s only gossip. You don’t need your mother confirming everyone’s suspicions.”
“Definitely not. I think I better get back to Betty’s and see if I can minimize the damage.”
“Too late,” Allie said. “Your mother just got back.”
Zeph controlled an urge to bang his forehead against the wall. When his mother bounced into the room, he cut off her chatter. “Who did you talk to?” he demanded.
“Well, hello to you, too.” She put her hands on her hips. “You mind your manners, young man. You’re not too old to spank.”
“I am so. Too old and too big.”
“I think,” Allie said, “that he might be right.” She gazed up at him and Zeph lost his train of thought for a moment at the heat in her eyes.
“Never mind. Zephram, I didn’t teach you to be that rude.”
“No, I learned that all by myself. Mom, this is important. Who did you talk to and what have you told them?”
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake. You’re acting like it’s a matter of life and death.”
If he admitted that some of his cases got to the near-fatal point, he’d have a full-fledged hysterical tantrum to deal with. If he didn’t, she’d never tell him. “Mother, could you for once take my word for something and just answer the damn question?”
“Well, really,” his mother huffed. “I spoke three words to Betty, who had already found my phone. All I said was, ‘Bet you didn’t expect me back so soon. Just couldn’t stay away. Oh, but isn’t Judge Wentworth just the nicest man, his house is so lovely.’ And then I told Betty I’d left my phone, but she had already gotten it out from behind the counter and held it out to me and said, ‘Oh, I knew right off it belonged to you, that cover with the zebra design and all red and purple, that’s some big city stuff you don’t see the likes of around here so I just set it back—’“
“Enough,” Zeph roared.
“No wonder you’re a man of few words. She talks even more than Betty.” Lincoln’s voice held admiration and sympathy.
Zeph took his mother’s arm and led her to a chair. “Sit down, Mom. Who else did you talk to?”
“Well, no one. Oh, except for that nice man.”
Zeph gritted his teeth. He knew what was coming.
“He said he’s the mayor. Is he really the mayor, Lincoln? He didn’t seem much like a politician to me, just so nice and friendly and I couldn’t imagine the mayor of Los Angeles being so sweet and wanting to hear all about my visit and he was so interested that I’d decided to surprise you and—what did you say, dear?”
“Never mind,” Zeph snapped. He took a deep breath and willed his voice to pleasant inquiry. “Mother, did you tell him I was here to investigate something?”
“Well, no, of course not, dear, you told me not to say a word, so all I said was that I came here thinking you were here to work and then Betty told me about Allie but I didn’t think you ever went anywhere just for fun, except well, you never went anywhere just for vacation except skiing and Club Med, which I’m not supposed to know about, anyway, then—”
Zeph over-rode her gentle voice. “I get the picture.”
“Does she do that all the time?” Allie asked.
“Yes. And I sincerely hope that is not fascination I’m hearing,” Zeph said.
“So do I, Allison,” Lincoln said.
“I can’t imagine what you all are talking about,” Zeph’s mother said, projecting injured innocence. “I only—”
“I don’t suppose Monty would consider solitary confinement for the rest of her visit,” Zeph said to Lincoln.
“Not a chance. I’ll just have to keep her busy while you’re—ah, not working. Would that suit you, Elena?”
Zeph’s jaw dropped when his mother blushed. He shot a narrow look at Lincoln, who didn’t seem to notice. Had Allie noticed? He edged over to her side. “What’s going on?” he whispered.
“Something. Took you long enough to catch on,” she whispered back with a wicked little smile.
“Would he be petty enough to hit on my mother because you and I...”
Anger sparked from Allie’s eyes and her reply came in a furious whisper. “Of course not. What a rotten thing to say. How can you even think such a thing?”
It must be everybody-hate-Zeph day. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve never seen her act like this before.”
Allie shrugged and led the way to the kitchen. She crossed the room to do something involving brussels sprouts.
“Dinner. Good.” Winn thumped down the back stairs and rummaged in the refrigerator. “I thought I’d have to do it all.”
Zeph accepted the potato peeler along with enough potatoes to feed an army. He settled at one end of the kitchen table and started peeling while Allie and his mother and Winn and Lincoln acted like they knew what they were doing. He looked over at his mother, busily rolling pie crust and dimpling up at Lincoln.
When the pie had gone in the oven his mother bustled over to him. “You’re certainly quiet this evening. Did you do something to make Allie mad? She hasn’t been near you...”
“Forget Allie. You’re acting like a teenager. You’re flirting with him,” Zeph accused.
Twin dimples winked beside her impish smile. “Yes, I am.”
Unable to think of an answer to that, Zeph picked up another potato.
“I’m not that old, you know. There’s no reason I have to be alone all the time. I can enjoy the company of a member of the opposite sex, you know. I don’t know why you think you have a monopoly on such things. You might give a thought to that if you weren’t always running through women like a lawn mower through high grass—”
“Did it ever occur to you to stay out of my—” He broke off. He couldn’t say “sex life” to his mother. The rudeness of “mind your own business” would probably get him a swat on the side of the head. “Love life?” Yeah, except as a certified bachelor and man about town, love and serious made him flinch. Well, except for Allie, and that was so new...anyway, having his mother messing in his—whatever—was the problem.
“No, it didn’t. You are my business. And besides that—”
“Besides that, nothing. Don’t talk to people. And stay away from Allie.”
“Right. Like that’s going to happen,” his mother snorted.
“Dream on, hotshot,” Winn said from behind him.
****
After dinner, Allie’s phone shrilled just as she stacked the last of the dishes by the sink. After a short conversation, she pulled off her apron and tossed it to Zeph. “Sorry, folks. You’ll have to take care of this without me,” she said, and zipped out the door.
“Here, honey. Let me do that.” Zeph’s mother took the apron. “You can dry, Zeph, and let Lincoln and Winn put things away. After all they know where everything goes and we don’t. Martha will get so annoyed if...”
Yeah. Dry and answer questions. Zeph tuned out the rest of her rambling and braced for the interrogation he knew would come.
“Where did you and Allie meet?” His mother began the inquisition as she washed the wine glasses.
“Don’t start,” Zeph said.
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Zephram. I’m your mother. And it’s not as though I’m asking you for state secrets. After all, I’m only making idle conversation with another adult. It’s not as though I’m being nosy or—”
“Like you’d ever be nosy,” Zeph grumbled.
“Really, dear. Asking where and how you met this lovely young wom
an—who is obviously very important to you, I might add—is scarcely being intrusive. It’s not as though I’m reading your diary—not that you ever would keep one—or snooping through your drawers, or questioning your friends—”
“All right,” he shouted. “All right, Mother. Allie and I met at the home of mutual—uh—friends.” He dried a plate for the fifth time.
Lincoln took it from him and set it in a cabinet.
“And what are you smiling about?” Zeph growled.
The last, stubborn traces of grin gave away Lincoln’s amusement even as he said with an almost-straight face, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Well, that’s nice, dear,” Zeph’s mother went on as though she hadn’t heard them. “It’s always so helpful for a couple to have friends in common. And how long have you been dating? I would think that would be something of a problem if Allison lives here. You must spend half your time driving back and forth—”
“Mother,” Zeph said. “Stop. Just stop.”
“Oh, but dear, I would really like to know just how serious you are about this girl. She’s a lovely girl. You must be so proud of her, Lincoln.”
“Of course I am.”
“Now, Zeph. You didn’t answer me about how long—”
“We’ve known each other about six months,” Zeph said between gritted teeth.
“Well, that’s nice, dear. But how in the world have you managed the distance problem?”
Zeph put the dish towel down on the counter. “Mother—”
“Well, you’re so busy that I can’t imagine you coming clear up here every weekend. And you’re always so good about calling me every week and you’ve never once mentioned being here, so I can’t help wondering—”
“We met several times while she was at horse shows,” Zeph said. “And that’s it—”
“I don’t think he wants to talk about it, Elena,” Lincoln interrupted. The amused smile he flashed at her didn’t cover the interest in his eyes. “But I do have to admire your technique. You’ve actually gotten him to answer questions. You’d be amazing in a courtroom.”
“Only if judges allowed non-stop rambling,” Zeph muttered.
“I’ve had to learn. He’s a good boy, but there are always so many girls flocking around him that I have to—”
Lincoln moved closer to her, his head bent as he listened.
Zeph had had enough. He handed the dishtowel to Winn. “Here. You can dry. And chaperone. I’m outta here.”
****
The next morning, Zeph tiptoed down the stairs. With any luck, his mother would still be asleep—
“Good morning, dear,” she called from the kitchen. “Coffee’s ready. Come have a cup with me and we can talk—”
“Sorry, Mother. Gotta meet Allie,” Zeph lied as he rushed—fled—to his car. Did he dare eat at Betty’s? The news would probably get back to Lincoln’s before he’d half finished the meal, and then his mother would have hurt feelings.
He stopped to let a dog cross the street. Now what? Breakfast didn’t seem to be on the menu, too early to go to Allie’s, and no way would he go back to Lincoln’s and sit helplessly while the parents behaved like moon-struck teenagers.
Might as well get some work done. He canvassed the town looking for Rodriguez, to no avail. Seeing Mabel striding down the street toward the library reminded him that she might know. He pulled up beside her. “How about a ride?”
“Sure. Always wanted to ride in one of these fancy cars.” She settled into the seat and looked expectant.
Right. He punched the gas and the Carrera rocketed the two blocks to the municipal parking lot. A skidding stop at the foot of the steps finished the thrill ride and left Mabel smiling.
“How’s it going with Rodriguez?” Zeph asked. “He happy with the stuff you’re learning?”
“I think so. I’d like to be able to help him. He works so hard. He didn’t get back from a job site until late last night, and had a meeting this morning before work…”
Zeph stopped listening. He hadn’t found Rodriguez because the guy wasn’t around. Talking to him had been a good idea. Searching his office sounded like a better one. He had time before he met Allie. He said goodbye to Mabel and took off, careful to let the car do a snarling acceleration and sliding turn onto the street for her benefit.
He could at least drive by the Blanton office.
The parking lot was empty when he got there. He stopped behind the building where his car couldn’t be seen from the road. Any evidence he might find wouldn’t be admissible in court, but he needed a chink in the case, just a little hint, so he’d know where to concentrate his efforts.
Slipping a handkerchief over his hand, he tried the back door. To his surprise, it opened. He shook his head. Small towns. At least this time the small-town attitude worked in his favor.
He stepped inside and looked around the room. This must be where the office work happened. File cabinets lined the walls except for the space occupied by a desk covered with tidy stacks of papers. He glanced at his watch. He couldn’t count on more than half an hour. He picked up a pile of letters and riffled through them but didn’t see anything suspicious. All were inquiries about future work.
The next batch turned out to be invoices, useless by themselves.
What did you expect? A list titled “Jobs We Cheated On”?
He glanced out the front window. Nothing moved, so he went back to snooping. After the papers, he turned to the large calendar over the desk. The entire year had notes for jobs done. A heavy black line circled July fourth, the day Blanton had been arrested. The weeks after that didn’t show any change from the first part of summer. He’d expect work to slack off come fall. Instead, in late September, the calendar showed a surprising upswing in work. Jobs that just might be the ones that resulted in complaints, which resulted in the hiring of Frank Fitzgerald, which resulted in Zeph’s presence. He pulled out his camera and snapped a picture of the calendar.
He needed to see the files, and that meant more midnight work, and more arguing with Allie, if she found out. If a partnership wasn’t so close to being reality, he might think about a different job.
The crunch of gravel alerted him. He looked out the window and saw Rodriguez’s truck pull into the lot.
After a quick check to be sure he’d left no traces of his presence, Zeph shot out the back door, pulling it closed behind him, and managed to be leaning against the Carrera by the time Rodriguez parked next to him.
“Señor Granger. An unexpected pleasure. What can I do for you?”
“I had a little time to kill before I meet Allie. Thought I’d drop by and see if you’re hiring at all.”
Surprise lit Rodriguez’s face. “I heard you might move to Stone’s Crossing?”
Zeph shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Just thought I’d ask.”
“I hire sometimes, carpenters, drywall, like that. Rodriguez looked at Zeph’s hands. “I do not think you lay brick. Or dig,” he said with an apologetic shrug.
“Office work?”
“Not office. I do. I have a friend who helps sometimes.”
“Mabel?”
Rodriguez scowled. “Why do you think that?”
“She’s reading up on the construction industry. I thought that might be on your account,” Zeph said. “No insult implied there, amigo.” He prodded with a few more questions, to no avail. “I’d better get going. Thanks anyway.”
When he pulled out on to the road, he looked in the rear view mirror. Rodriguez stood, legs planted, arms crossed, looking as though it would be a cold day in Hell before he left the office unlocked again.
Zeph could handle that.
Chapter 11
After breakfast, Zeph stayed at the clinic with Allie. His visions of a pleasant day of dalliance evaporated with the ringing of the phone. “This is a bad one,” she said. “Horse trailer versus semi. Can you stay here? Edith’s coming by to pick up her cat. Paperwork’s on my desk.” Before he could answer, she�
��d grabbed her bag and gone.
Zeph settled behind Allie’s desk to review his case notes. With Lincoln off the suspect list, he could concentrate on the remaining contenders: Rodriguez, Mentrine, Bartelett, Wendover. No, not Wendover. “Rodriguez, Mentrine, Bartelett,” he repeated aloud. Maybe if he said it often enough, he’d get a clue. “Bartelett, Mentrine, Rodriguez.” And what about Hunnewill? Maybe all of them were in it together, like Murder on the Orient Express. He threw the notes down in disgust just as a red Honda skidded into the drive and stopped crookedly in front of the porch.
A disheveled woman moved clumsily, trying to get out without letting go of something on the seat beside her. He realized that the shit had hit the fan—clinic plus wild-eyed stranger equaled just one thing: emergency.
He ran down the steps to help and discovered the something was a dog. Medium sized, unconscious, wrapped in a blanket. What he could see of it was mostly long hair matted with blood. The front seat looked like a slaughterhouse, and the woman had a hand clamped on the blood-soaked towel that wrapped the dog’s front leg.
“He got hit by a car,” the woman said in a tear-choked voice, and Zeph realized it was Margaret Bartelett. He took the dog—Bongo—and moved toward the clinic door. Her hand slipped on the dog’s leg and Zeph shifted to apply pressure to the wound.
Margaret muttered disjointedly, “His leg…never should have moved...where’s Doctor Allie...going to die...Bill shouldn’t have...women...that white sale...” She didn’t make much sense, but shock made people sound wonky sometimes.
The hot, metallic scent of blood sparked his adrenaline. He kept his hand clamped around the spurting leg and strode up the steps, through the open door, and into the surgery. Shit. What could they do with Allie gone?
The phone had a button clearly labeled, Cell—Emergency. He hit it and the speaker-phone buttons without easing pressure on the wound.
Allie came on the phone. “What’s wrong?”
“Margaret Bartelett is here with a blood-covered dog.”
“It’s Bongo, Allie,” Margaret said. “He got hit by a car.”
“Tell me what’s bleeding. Does he have other injuries?”
Zeph Undercover Page 17
