by Terry Odell
“Lowenthal,” Sam said. “Although I doubt you’d remember them. They weren’t close friends. We knew them from shul. And they retired to Florida while you were still young children.”
Justin furrowed his brow. “Sorry. Can’t help.”
“Neither can I,” Megan added.
“What about you, Sam?” Gordon asked. “What did Benny do for a living?”
Sam sipped his tea, apparently shifting gears from worrying about Rose to remembering people from decades ago.
“An architect, as I recall. And a successful one. Not a modest man, by any means. But not obnoxious. He didn’t flaunt his wealth, but he did go on how much money he’d made doing this, doing that. Always hounding me to invest.” Sam’s eyes widened. His mouth dropped. His hands trembled. “Mein Gott.”
“Opa, what’s wrong?” Justin grabbed Sam’s tea before it spilled all over the table.
Gordon almost knocked his chair over rushing to Sam’s side. He searched the room for a doctor. This was a hospital wasn’t it? Where was the medical staff?
Sam gripped Gordon’s hand. “Nein, I am all right. I just remembered. That is all.”
Chapter 17
Gordon jerked forward and covered Sam’s hands with his. They were as cold as Rose’s had been hot. Sweat droplets beaded on Sam’s forehead. Was he having a heart attack? “Sam? Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?”
Sam shook his head and pulled his hands out from under Gordon’s. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his brow. “Nein, nein. I am fine. I now realized what Rose must have been trying to remember. And how stupid I was not to think of it when you first told me about the bones in the woods. Our property, it wasn’t always ours.”
Gordon scrutinized Sam’s features. He seemed lucid, and his color had returned. But his statement made no sense. Of course the Kretzers’ property wasn’t always theirs. They’d bought it over fifty years ago.
“Sam, I don’t understand,” Gordon said. “What do you mean?”
Justin held the mug of tea aloft. “Take a sip, Opa. Relax.”
Sam did as Justin asked, then exhaled a shaky sigh. “I apologize. My brain knows what I’m thinking, but the words don’t come out the right way.”
“We understand,” Megan said. “We’re all stressed, and our brains aren’t making all the right connections. What were you trying to say? Start at the beginning and take all the time you need.”
Gordon waited as Sam collected himself, relieved there wasn’t going to be a second patient to worry about.
Sam set his mug on the table and folded his hands in front of him. He took another breath. “When we first came to Mapleton, we had little money. Married less than two years, and trying to start a business. We found a house we loved, and were fortunate that we could rent with an option to buy while we saved our money. But then, the house was on a much smaller piece of land.”
Sam unfolded his hands and curved them around the edge of the table. “Talking about Benny reminded me. Always, he was saying, ‘Real estate will make you rich. Invest in land.’ When the opportunity to buy the vacant lot next to ours came along, we tightened our belts and bought it. Until now, I had not thought about it. The payments were combined with our mortgage, and it’s been so long. Rose kept the books. I’d forgotten that part of our land is newer than our original purchase.” He glanced to the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Rose.”
“When did you add the land?” Gordon asked.
Sam seemed to think for a moment. “Before Meggie came to us. Maybe 1980? I would have to find the papers.” Sam gazed around the table. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember. If I had, perhaps Rose—”
“Stop that, Sam,” Megan said. “It’s not your fault you didn’t think of something that happened years ago, especially when you’re worried about Rose. And even if you had, that wouldn’t have made a difference. Rose got sick, and you had nothing to do with it. You can not blame yourself.”
Sam’s despondent expression said he disagreed.
“Megan’s right,” Gordon said. “If Rose remembered, she would have mentioned it when I was there with the coroner, asking questions.”
Sam hung his head. “But I should have understood what she meant when she was rambling. At least tried harder to figure it out, since it was obviously upsetting her that she couldn’t make herself clear.”
“Tell you what,” Megan said, with more cheer in her tone than Gordon had heard in a while. “You go up first. You tell her you remembered, and that you told Gordon. That should make her feel better.”
Gordon slid his chair back. “One more question, and then I’m going to get back to work. Who did you buy the property from?”
“Again, I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I was young, wasn’t paying attention. I think Benny himself might have told me the land was for sale. That wouldn’t be surprising, since he was always pointing people to investments. We went through a real estate company. Never dealt with owners, not like when you buy a house and see who you’re buying it from.” He peered at Gordon. “You want I should go get the papers now?”
“Don’t worry,” Gordon said. “I can find all that out. It’ll be on record. You may have given me a strong lead, so thanks.”
“It should have been sooner,” Sam grumbled.
“Don’t kick yourself,” Gordon said. “Go upstairs. Smile, give Rose a kiss for me, and call if there’s anything else you remember.”
Gordon set his empty mug in the bin and almost jogged out of the hospital. He halted as he passed the gift shop. Damn, he’d forgotten to order flowers. He went inside and, thoughts of the mayor churning through his brain, went straight for the biggest arrangement in the shop.
Rose’s words replayed in his head. It’s the thought that counts. He set the elaborate bouquet back on the shelf and took a minute or two to peruse all the offerings. One, a modest mix of multi-colored flowers that looked as if they could have come straight from Rose’s garden, caught his eye. Perfect. He paid for his selection and gave them Rose’s name. “She’s in ICU. Bed seven.”
The clerk paused, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry, but they don’t allow flowers in ICU. If you’d like, we can hold your order until she’s in a regular room. We have a special book we check every morning, and as soon as a patient is moved into a room, we’ll see to it that the gifts are delivered.”
Gordon was afraid he’d forget to reorder if he waited, so he accepted the clerk’s suggestion. Once he passed through the hospital doors, he jogged across the parking lot to his SUV. With what Sam had told him, he now had a lead to the owner of the bones. Or maybe to the person who put them in the ground.
In his office, he dug through paper until he found the records for Rose and Sam’s house, but he couldn’t find anything about their secondary land purchase. Sam had said he’d paid for the properties along with his mortgage, so Gordon assumed the same bank or mortgage company covered both the house and the land. According to what he had, their mortgage had been held by Mapleton Title. But Mapleton Title was no longer around. He figured Mapleton Title had been bought out at least four or five times since the Kretzers had bought their property.
He called Laurie and explained his problem.
“No problem, Chief. That information will be with the county tax records. I wasn’t looking for property, only homes. I’ll get it for you.”
“Just like that?”
“I’d make it sound a lot harder if I thought it would do any good. Like get me a raise.”
“If I could, I would.”
“I know that, Chief. Maybe after the next election?”
“Fingers crossed.”
Chapter 18
Megan tiptoed into Rose’s cubicle in ICU. The entire room hissed and bleeped as machines monitored patients. Rose slept peacefully, and Megan berated herself for feeling glad that she wouldn’t have to talk to the woman who’d sacrificed so much to raise her. But Sam and Justin had taken turns all day, and Megan had vol
unteered to stay until visiting hours were over.
Selfish, ungrateful child.
It was so hard to keep her spirits up. Sam said Rose had calmed once he told her that he’d understood what she’d been trying to tell him. And unless things took a turn for the worse, the doctors said she’d be in a regular room tomorrow. The new antibiotics had finally kicked in.
Focusing on the positive, Megan settled herself in the chair beside Rose’s bed and opened the book they’d been reading to her. Much easier to read someone else’s words than think of the right ones on your own. She found the bookmarked page, cleared her throat, and began reading.
Several pages later—she wasn’t sure how long she’d been reading—Rose’s voice, rough with sleep, jerked Megan away from her narration.
“Something is wrong, Meggie?”
How does she do that? As a child, Megan assumed all parents knew what their kids were up to, and knew she could never fool Rose for long. But now? Reading aloud from a book to someone who should have been barely aware she was in the room, much less speaking?
Megan closed the book over her finger. Maybe Rose had been dreaming. Megan smiled. “Hi, Rose. Sam said you’re doing better. Would you like some water?”
Rose nodded, and Megan adjusted the flexible straw in the covered plastic cup, holding it so Rose could drink. Rose sipped, then pushed the cup away. “You didn’t answer my question, Liebchen. Something is troubling you.”
Megan placed the cup in the center of the bedside table. “Of course something’s troubling me. You’re in the hospital. In Intensive Care. I’m worried about you.”
“Worried about me, you’d be trying to be cheerful. Your voice has no inflection, and you’re stumbling over words.” Rose adjusted the blankets over herself. “You couldn’t lie when you were five, and you’re no better at it now. Close your eyes, pretend I’m not here, and speak your troubles.”
Megan was five again, still raw from the recent death of her parents. Rose’s technique had helped her open up then, but Megan was thirty-two now. Far too old for such games.
Yet, because it was Rose, Megan closed her eyes.
Might as well jump right in. “I’m planning a career change.” And, the way Rose had when Megan was a child, she said nothing. Rose wasn’t there.
“I wasn’t happy at Peerless anymore. All the travel, all the huge events. The personal touch was gone. I started thinking about moving in the opposite direction—you know, going smaller. Nowadays, people use computer event services for kids’ birthday parties. They don’t have the time to send personal invitations much less organize the event, so they turn to an impersonal email. I want to fill that niche. Go back to the old ways. Take what I know about event planning, but do everything on a small, personal scale. The only person to interface with a computer would be me.”
The machine above Rose’s bed bleeped a steady rhythm. Either she was asleep, or nothing Megan had said so far had upset her. Gee, it would have been nice to have had something like that when she was little. She went on.
“I’m waiting to hear from the bank for a small business loan.” Where was her brain? She knew better than to discuss money with Rose. That’s why she hadn’t talked about her job situation—okay, part of the reason, anyway. There was that whole failure thing, and the being blacklisted thing, but when it came to Rose and Sam, it would always come down to the money thing. And she was not going to let them bail her out.
Did the bleeping get faster? Megan slitted her eyes open. Rose’s were closed. Was she asleep? Dreaming? Or responding to Megan’s slip that she was applying for a loan? Megan waited a moment, assuming that if the faster bleeping meant trouble, a nurse would be right in. But no one came. Megan decided it would be safer to go back to reading. She reached for the book, but Rose’s hand darted out.
“The book can wait. It’s your story I want to hear. Are you still working at Peerless while you plan this new career?”
“No. I quit.” Megan gave Rose the abbreviated version, omitting the part about her new—now ex—boss’s sexual advances. That would be going too far. And would probably upset Rose enough to red line her bleep machine.
“Where do you plan to start this new business?” Rose said.
Tears sprang to Megan’s eyes. No judgments, no admonishments about abandoning a more lucrative career. Total acceptance. And now Megan felt guilty about not saying something sooner.
“I’ve been testing the waters around Mapleton and the surrounding towns,” Megan said. “I’ve spoken to several Bed and Breakfasts about simple weddings, parties, small family reunions and the like. They like the idea. We’re not far from Denver, and I can tap that market for florists and specialty shops if there’s not enough locally. The whole idea is to give the event a home-based touch rather than an impersonal ‘Option 3b’ cookie-cutter party.”
Rose reached up, and Megan extended her hand. Rose held it, squeezed it gently. “I know you will succeed. And if you need any financial support, Sam and I will be proud to become investors.”
“Thanks, but no. I’m going to succeed, and I’m going to do it on my own. You and Sam have already done so much for me. You deserve to enjoy your savings.” She lifted Rose’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “There is one thing, though—”
“Name it, and it’s yours.”
Megan chuckled. “Don’t offer something you might regret. I was wondering if you’ll part with your Apfelkuchen recipe. I know it’ll be a huge hit.”
Rose laughed, which set off a fit of coughing. Megan jumped to her feet. “Should I call the nurse?”
Rose waved her off, pointed to the water. Megan offered the straw, and Rose took a long drink. “Coughing loosens things, the doctor said.” And took another sip. “And of course you can have my recipe. It shouldn’t die with me.”
“It’ll be a long time before you have to worry about that.”
“When I’m home, we will bake it together,” Rose said.
“I’m a terrible cook.”
“You were always busy playing sports. I never insisted you learn. But now I shall.”
Megan settled back into her seat, a warm feeling wrapping around her heart. “I look forward to it.”
“I still want to invest,” Rose said.
“And I’m still going to refuse. Take whatever money you would invest in my business, and as soon as you get well, you and Sam take that vacation. A cruise. The Caribbean, or maybe Alaska. I’ve heard that’s a gorgeous part of the country. And I still have contacts in the business. I can get you a deal.”
Rose smiled and adjusted her nasal tubes, taking in a few breaths before speaking. “But if I invest in your business, I know I’ll get the money back. Vacation money is gone forever.”
“But you’ll have the memories.” Sudden images of Rose’s lingerie flashed behind Megan’s eyes.
No, no, no. Don’t go there.
Megan needed to change the subject. Fast. She studied Rose, looking for any signs of fatigue or stress, but if anything, Rose looked better than she had when Megan had entered the cubicle. “Gordon’s following up on the information you gave him. It makes more sense that nobody sneaked in and buried bones in your yard while you were living there. That’s creepy. The police were digging when I went to get your things—” Great. Here came those images again.
To shove them away, she concentrated on visualizing the modest sleepwear she’d packed. “Gordon said they’re having a bona fide crime scene team do the excavation. Who do you think the bones belong to?”
Rose tsked. But her eyes brightened, and Megan didn’t think it was because of the fever.
Megan leaned forward, her own heart thumping faster than Rose’s bleeper. “Do you think you might know?”
Chapter 19
With a sigh, Gordon transferred the last piece of paper into his out box. He dripped another dose of drops into his burning eyes. Would reading glasses help? But they were for the over-forty set, and he was still years outside that demograp
hic. Laurie tapped on Gordon’s half-closed door. He shoved the eye drops into the desk drawer, blinked, and invited her in. “You have the owner of the property?”
“Yes and no,” Laurie said.
“Explain.”
“It’s a corporation, not an individual. Roger, Suben and Clark, Inc. The good news is that it’s a Colorado corporation, so I should be able to track it down without too much trouble. The not so good news is that all I’ll get is the name of the company’s registered agent. There could be dozens of employees, any of whom might have a connection to that specific property. Or the bones. If you want more, I’ll have to dig for it.”
“Please do. But take care of the filing first.” He gestured to his outbox. When Laurie peeked at her watch, Gordon checked the time. After four? Where had the day gone? Right. Bones, mayor, and hospital. Those extra-curricular activities sucked up the hours. “You can deal with the corporation research tomorrow.”
Laurie paused at the door. “That it?”
“That’s it. Have a good evening. See you in the morning.”
Right after Laurie left, Connie came in. “Chief, I’ve gone through Irv’s transmissions for the last three weeks. He’s a little… informal… at times, but I didn’t find anything I’d have suggested discipline or retraining for. Looks like what you heard was the exception, and since you spoke to him, he’s gone totally by the book. I can go back further, if you’d like.”
Gordon rolled that around for a moment. “Can you find a night where something more urgent came through? I’d like to know how he handled a higher-stress call. On the off chance he freaks when things get dicey, I need to know about it.” Since Connie had trained Irv, Gordon assumed she’d have noticed anything unacceptable before she’d recommended him for Dispatch, but people—and their performances—changed, and today’s Irv might not be the Irv Connie had approved.
“Will do.” She paused. “Any word on the bone case? The airwaves have been quiet.”
“Good. That’s the way I want it. And no, nothing new.”
