“Dorothy, I’m going to hang up now before I say something I shouldn’t.” I clicked off before I could blow.
My hands were balled into tight fists, I realized. I had to make a conscious effort to unclench my jaw. Have my license! This from the woman who insisted I work for her, even after I’d told her I wasn’t a private investigator. The woman who’d invited me to her home for dinner, who called me whenever there was a problem. Who wanted immediate results on an impossible case. I took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully.
In times of stress my penchant for neatness tends to surface like oil on water. I slowly gathered the stack of receipts beside my calculator, tamping them into a tidy pile. I filed them in their proper folder. The few pieces of correspondence went into a nice, neat sheaf beside the computer, ready for me to write the letters tomorrow. I began arranging my desktop items, telephone precisely aligned with the edge of the glass top, stapler and tape dispenser close by. I came to the small plastic cube filled with paper clips, and then I lost it. I picked up the little box and squeezed it until the corners dug into my palm, then I flung it across the room. It hit the open door just as Tammy walked in.
She let out a small shriek.
I let out a ferocious growl.
Rusty jumped up from his prone position on the rug, ready to do battle on my behalf.
Tammy’s wide eyes watched the dog nervously.
I took another deep breath. “It’s all right,” I assured her calmly. “Everything’s fine now.”
Rusty took his cue from my tone and lay down again on the rug.
“I just came to say goodnight,” Tammy told me, a twitchy smile trying to form on her lips. She looked at the splatter of loose paperclips that had showered the floor when their container burst open. “Shall I . . .?” She glanced down.
“It’s fine.” I handed her the final paycheck I’d drawn up. “Goodnight, and have a nice life.” I sat with my hands clasped primly on my desk until I heard the back door close. Then my head went forward and I grabbed it with both hands, running my fingers down each side and squeezing two fistfuls of long hair. I’m just tired, I told myself. Not enough sleep, that’s it.
“Charlie?”
The male voice, coming from right in front of me, sent my heart pounding.
“Ron! What—” I reached for my stapler, came up with a pen instead, and threw it at him. “You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?”
“C’mere,” he coaxed, rounding the desk to stand beside me. “What’s wrong, Sis?”
He took the hand that had just thrown the pen and pulled me into an embrace. His clothes smelled like woodsmoke. He patted my back and I let my forehead burrow against his shoulder. He made soft little there-there noises.
“A client just threatened me,” I sniffed.
“What?”
“Well, not physically. She just said she’d have my license.” I started to giggle between sobs. “Stupid old cow, she knows I don’t even have a license. She’s been a gigantic pain since day one, and I don’t know where her father is, and Tammy just quit, and Rick Hastings was mad at you so I had to fix that.” I took a jagged breath. “And Drake is out there, god knows where out in the sticks, risking his life to fight a fire that some jerk probably set because he didn’t think the fire restrictions applied to him . . .”
“Haven’t had much sleep, have you?” he said, backing away to look at my face.
“No, I guess not.” I felt a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.
“C’mon, you’re gonna drink a cup of tea while I pick up these paperclips.”
Rusty rubbed against my legs, adding his own brand of comfort. Ron led me downstairs to the kitchen where he nuked a mug of water and peeled open a tea bag wrapper. I dunked the bag a few times then sipped at the tea gratefully.
“What are you doing here, anyway? You weren’t supposed to get home until Wednesday.” We settled into two chairs at the kitchen table.
He shrugged. “Just had a feeling, I guess.” My eldest brother may be a little on the chunky side with hair that’s getting sparse on top, but he’s there for me.
“You look like a wreck,” I told him. “Your pants have a big soot mark on them and that fishing hat looks like a car ran over it. And you smell like a campfire.”
“I cleaned fish right before I drove home. Want a whiff of my hands?” He stretched them toward my face.
“Uh, no! Get ’em away!”
“At least you’re smiling again,” he teased. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Oh, gosh, maybe eight o’clock this morning.”
“Well, Miss Always-Preaching-Nutrition, don’t you think it’s time?”
“Pedro’s? A margarita might really hit the spot right now.”
“Think he’ll let me in, smelling like I do?”
“He lets Rusty in, doesn’t he?” I pretended to give it some consideration. “Well, you better at least wash those hands.”
We stood up and I rinsed my mug at the kitchen sink.
“You scrub on those hands awhile, I’ll go clean up the mess I made in my office.”
I was down on my hands and knees, stuffing silver clips into their container when the phone rang. Without thinking, I reached for it.
“Charlie, is that you?” Dorothy’s whiny voice continued without pause. “Of course it is. Charlie, I’m still very upset about your insinuation that anyone in my family might be involved with drugs. I’m just not sure I still want you on this case. You just don’t seem to be doing anything for me.”
“Dorothy,” I began, fighting to keep my voice steady, “did anyone ever tell you that it’s not always about you? Frankly, I don’t give a shit about how this affects you, anymore. I’m not doing it for you. There are members of your family who genuinely care about Willie, like Melanie, like Bea. And I’m doing it for Willie. Did you ever stop to think what he might be going through? That he might be lost, or cold, or afraid? No, Dorothy, this isn’t about you and people . . . like you.” I’d nearly blurted out what I knew about Felix and the changed will. I clamped my mouth shut.
“Well!” she huffed.
“Dorothy, I apologize for the rant. It’s been a very long day. You think about it. If you want us to continue on the case, we will. Ron is back in town now and we’ll do our best. Just keep in mind that you may not like the outcome. Sometimes the truth isn’t what we’d like it to be.”
There was a long silence on the line.
“We all care about my father,” she finally said tightly. “And we want him found. Please keep looking for him.”
Ron walked in just as I hung up.
“Did I hear a teeny little note of anger?” His eyebrows went up as he looked sideways at me.
“I hope I did the right thing,” I said. “It probably isn’t smart to yell at a client.”
“But she still wants us on the case, right? You know, bullies will usually back down when you stand up to them.”
“Well, she didn’t back down by much.”
“Tell me about it over some enchiladas,” he said, steering me toward the back door.
Back at home, later, I felt curiously light. I was glad I’d taken a stance with Dorothy, and it felt good to have Ron back, if only to listen and ratify what I’d done so far. My brief rant had released the right endorphins, apparently. The two margaritas probably hadn’t hurt my mood a bit either.
I was actually humming as I undressed. The phone rang just as I was getting ready to step into the shower.
“Hi, hon, how was your day?” Drake asked.
I recapped it quickly, glossing over how much Dorothy had upset me. “How about yours?” I asked.
He described a fire out of control, with flames leaping a hundred feet or more into the air. His small helicopter was being used for recon by the fire management officers, while large tankers dropped load after load of fire retardant. As they began to get the fire under control they would use his smaller water bucket to catch spot
fires and flare-ups before they could take hold.
“Take care, sweetheart. I miss you like crazy,” I told him before we said goodnight.
Ten minutes later, after a quick shower, I slipped between cool, clean sheets. Rusty settled onto his rug beside the bed.
The dream felt very real, although I was aware that I was dreaming even as it unfolded. We were in a courtroom. I sat behind a table, alone. Dorothy Schwartzman stood behind the other table, tall and imposing in a severe pin-striped suit, much as I imagined she would have during her high-power law career.
“Your Honor,” she was saying, “I submit that the defendant was hired to locate my father and to bring him back to me alive and well.”
I tried to object that ‘alive and well’ had not been mentioned at the time, but my voice wouldn’t come out.
Dorothy kept talking. “You see, Your Honor, I have important papers for him to sign. I need him here.”
“She wants him to sign a new will, cutting out all her siblings,” I tried to shout. Again, my mouth moved but nothing came out.
“I further submit that the defendant acted as a private investigator, without a license and without the skills to properly complete the job.”
“You hired me for the job! I told you to wait for Ron! I told you!”
She sent a smirking look toward me.
I looked at the judge but he didn’t appear to realize I was in the room.
“I therefore, Your Honor, ask that the defendant be sentenced to life in prison for her crimes.” She set her notepad down and took her seat.
“So ordered!” The judge rapped his gavel twice.
“Wait! You can’t do that! I get to say something.” I rounded my table, ready to get in the judge’s face, but a bailiff grabbed me by the arm.
“Sorry, miss,” he said, pulling my other arm forward, ready to put handcuffs on me.
“No! Wait!”
Wait . . . I struggled to consciousness gradually, thrashing against my restraints. Wait . . . I woke to find my arms tangled in the sheets. My legs were kicking ineffectually against my nonexistent opponent. My breath came in gasps.
Exhaling loudly, I flopped back against the mattress. I slowly turned my right arm until it became free of the fabric. The left came away easily once I stopped resisting. My heart was beating double-time and sweat coated me. It took a conscious effort to slow my rapid breathing. I lie there for a minute, getting my bearings, my first thought being Thank God it was a dream.
After a couple of minutes I sat up, then decided to get a glass of water from the bathroom. The cooling sweat made me shiver and I slipped on my terry robe. I sat on the edge of the bed, hoping the unsettling feeling would go away and I’d be able to fall asleep again. But my thoughts wouldn’t slow down.
“Why did I agree to stay on this stupid case?” I said aloud.
Rusty stirred, stretching his legs straight out, but didn’t awaken.
I switched on the bedside lamp, bringing a peachy glow to the far corners of the room and dispelling the ominous shadows. The dog raised his head partway, eyes slitted against the sudden brightness. When he saw I was still on the bed, he dropped his head back to the floor.
Dorothy, clearly, was an enemy. The elementary symbolism of the dream was telling me not to trust her, that she’d turn on me in a moment. Well, yeah, I thought. She already did that this afternoon on the phone. Her threat to ‘have my license’ wasn’t an idle one, I realized.
I got up and went to the kitchen. Without consciously deciding to do it, I poured some milk into a mug and stuck it into the microwave. While it heated, I paced.
We should go carefully from now on, I decided. I’d fill Ron in on every detail I’d learned so far and we’d create a case file with him authorizing me as his assistant to interview witnesses and perform certain duties. I’d talk seriously to him tomorrow about taking over from this point, conducting the rest of the investigation himself.
I took the warm milk from the oven and added a packet of hot chocolate mix. The clink of the spoon in the mug brought Rusty from the bedroom. Ears perked and tongue lapping tentatively out, he displayed frank interest in the mug.
“Not for you, pal,” I said, reaching out to scratch his ears.
He ducked, not wanting to be distracted by mere affection. I pulled a crunchy dog biscuit from the cupboard and offered it. He snatched it eagerly.
What else could I do to protect myself against Dorothy? I should have known, from day one, I chided myself. Anybody as pushy as she’d been, and a lawyer to boot, was bound to get nasty when things didn’t go her way. I carried my hot chocolate to the living room where I turned on a soft light and burrowed into a corner of the sofa, my feet tucked under me. Rusty followed me, laying his chin on the sofa, doing his best to look adorable while not taking his eyes off me.
For some reason, Melanie’s face came to me. She’d been so worried over her grandfather. And Bea, so unlike her sister. Actually, aside from Dorothy and Felix, they weren’t such a bad group. And of course there was Willie himself. I still didn’t have any idea whether he’d turn up dead or alive, but he deserved to have someone out there looking.
The warm drink gradually calmed me. I’d talk it over with Ron tomorrow. He’d probably have some ideas. I couldn’t let Dorothy scare me off now. Especially knowing what her motives were. I couldn’t let her attitude put me on the defensive—she was the one in the wrong. I drained the dregs of the cup and took it to the kitchen sink.
I could probably sleep now.
Chapter 16
“She can’t have my license pulled,” Ron said matter-of-factly. “You’re acting as my assistant, gathering information is all.”
“Even though I’ve been in contact with a law enforcement agency down south?”
“Buckman actually enlisted your help a couple of times, didn’t he?”
“Well, yeah, identifying the shirt, especially.”
“Okay. Let’s just let Dorothy cool off and we’ll keep doing the job. She didn’t actually say we were fired, did she?”
“No, she said she wanted her father found.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. What do you suggest we try next?” he asked.
“I think we ought to stay in touch with Buckman’s office and see if they get an ID on that second body in the mine. Maybe you could do that,” I suggested. “I’m going to call the other sister, Bea, and find out if she got her statement notarized about that unsigned will. I don’t know how much weight it would hold in court, but at least she’s making the effort to be sure Dorothy and Felix can’t magically produce a signed one if Willie is dead.”
“Good idea.”
“Another area where you might get more answers than I could is in checking out Felix’s credentials.” I explained my theory that with his knowledge of geology Felix might know something important about the mineral rights on Willie’s land. “Think you could find out whether he’s been checking around, making any specific inquiries about that piece of land?”
“Will do—Chief.” He gave a little salute.
“I guess I better handle a few domestic matters,” I told him. “Talk to Sally this morning about how we’re going to redistribute Tammy’s workload now that she’s gone. Or did you want to try getting another part-timer to replace her?”
“Whatever you think. I certainly defer to your expertise there,” he said. “You ladies are the ones who’ll feel her absence.”
“Or not. You know, in some ways it was actually more comfortable with just you, me and Sally here.”
He nodded a ‘whatever,’ and I left his office to head downstairs. Ron and I had come in early this morning, wanting to get caught up before the phones started ringing and the day officially started. I went into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee and was just pouring it when Sally came through the back door.
I broached the subject of Tammy right away and we decided that the two of us could manage without another helper.
“I can c
ertainly take some work home with me,” she offered. “I can do letters or case files on my own computer, if you don’t mind. Main reason I can’t put in more time at the office is because of Ross’s schedule. We’d agreed that one of us would always be home with the baby.”
I agreed with Sally’s assessment and decided I, too, could reorganize my work.
That bit of business off my mind, I placed a call to Bea in Seattle. She sounded sleepy when she answered.
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I’d completely forgotten about the time difference,” I apologized. I asked her about the notarization and she assured me she’d done it.
“Bea, I don’t know how all this is going to turn out,” I began. “Dorothy was pretty upset with me yesterday. Stopped just short of firing us from the case.”
“Well, don’t worry about that,” Bea said. “Dorothy rarely has anyone stand up to her, but when somebody does she’ll usually back down. And if she does fire you, I’ll simply hire you myself. I’m not going to sit by and let those two play any games with Dad’s will and his property. I hope you find him alive so he can boot them out face to face.” She laughed. “Now that was a really strange mixture of old clichés, wasn’t it? Guess it’s still too early for me.”
“I’ll let you get back to sleep then,” I said. “And, Bea? Thanks for believing in me.”
I hung up, feeling better, finding a new determination to find Willie McBride. I really wanted to see the good guys win this one.
I could hear Ron’s voice on the telephone in his office, so I settled in to answer some of the correspondence that was waiting for me.
“Charlie?” Sally’s voice came over the intercom. “Randy Buckman’s on the line, says he’s returning Ron’s call, but I thought you might want to take it.”
“Hi, Randy, what’s up?” I greeted.
“Who’s Ron Parker?” he asked. “I wasn’t sure what he was calling about.”
I explained that Ron was my partner and we were just catching up on shared duties since he’d returned to town.
“What we were calling about was to find out whether you’d had any more luck in getting an ID on the other body in the mine,” I said.
Reunions Can Be Murder: The Seventh Charlie Parker Mystery Page 14
