By eight o’clock that evening I found myself dozing on the sofa, unable to keep my eyes open. It had been a long week and I’d given in to my emotions a bit too much in the past couple of days. I fell into bed and didn’t awaken until bars of sunlight began to infiltrate the bedroom.
Although I’d told Ron I might come into the office, when the weekend came I found myself uninspired to do so and spent the time putting the McBride case out of my mind by cleaning house, airing linens, and all that other spring stuff that domesticated creatures tend to do. By Monday morning I was refreshed and ready to face Dorothy Schwartzman or whatever else the office might deal me.
I was the first to arrive so I started coffee then checked the fax machine. Nothing from the bank, although that wasn’t really a surprise. I was deep into profit and loss statements for last month when Ron and Sally arrived, each popping in to say good morning before going on to other work.
“Doesn’t look like this is going to tell us much,” Ron commented an hour later, stepping into my office with a sheet of fax paper in hand. “Can you identify your man from this?”
I took the page and looked at the dark image. The face was too much in shadow for me to tell whether it was Willie. Neither the posture nor the hands, usually good indicators of a person’s age, told me anything either. The figure was in shadow, backlit by harsh light that cast the main image even deeper into darkness. He wore a ball cap whose bill blocked any hope of seeing facial detail. I thought a western hat was probably more Willie’s style, but couldn’t say for sure.
“That’s from the bank in Cruces,” Ron said. “Maybe the Phoenix bank will have a better one.”
I stared at the fax a bit longer but didn’t come to any conclusions.
“Maybe I’ll see something more in it later,” I told Ron, sticking the page up on my bulletin board with a tack.
“Shirley Mason on line one,” Sally’s voice announced.
My Realtor friend. “Hey, Shirley,” I greeted.
“Hi, Charlie. I apologize for not getting back to you on that north valley property. It completely slipped my mind until I came across a note on my desk. Give me that address again?”
I suppressed a sigh and told her Willie McBride’s address.
“Hold on a sec, I’m entering it into my database. I should be able to get you some comparables.”
Computer keys clicked in the background.
“Okay, something’s coming up,” Shirley said. “Looks like a piece of acreage down the road recently sold for $400,000. That was vacant land, so yours might be similar.”
Four hundred K wasn’t exactly a huge fortune, but it wasn’t peanuts either. And if Dorothy managed to get it all, rather than splitting with three other siblings it might hold her over tidily.
“Oh, wait a second, Charlie,” Shirley said. “I’m getting some additional information here. It looks like . . . um, let’s see . . . yes this is in the same neighborhood. Another piece of property nearby just brought a much higher price because of its mineral rights.”
“You mentioned that once before—what kind of mineral rights?”
“No details, so I don’t know what kind of rights they are. I’ll tell you though, the selling price was nearly triple that other one.”
Whoa. Now that might be worth killing for.
I hung up the phone, pondering just how Dorothy or Felix might be involved in all this.
It was three in the afternoon before the second bank fax came in and this one revealed little more than the first. The one thing I could say with relative certainty was that it was the same person. Same cap, same posture. This one had more light on the figure itself, but again the bill of the cap hid any features.
“I wonder if this is always a problem with these video cameras,” I said to Ron. “Seems like anybody who didn’t want to be recognized would know to just wear a cap like this.”
“You might be right,” he said. “Makes you wonder if someone like McBride would have the savvy to figure out how to disguise himself this way.”
“I doubt it. From what everyone tells me about him, and judging by his lifestyle at home, I picture him as a simple old man, happy to prowl around outdoors a bit and dig in the dirt in hopes of finding a treasure.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t seem like he’d be into outwitting the banking system.”
“So, what do you think? Did someone else use his card?”
“Could be, but look at this.” He pointed to the left hand of the figure in the Phoenix picture. “I’d say this is an old man’s hand. Seems kind of gnarled, a little out of shape.”
“You’re right.”
“Now, if McBride was abducted and killed it seems like the attacker would have had to be someone young and fit enough to overpower him. The odds are against one old man abducting another, I would think.”
“Most likely, although stranger things have happened.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why we never rule out anything in this business.”
“I think I’ll touch base with Melanie again,” I said. “I hope she’s surviving all right with Dorothy under her roof. Maybe I’ll drive over to her place.” If I phoned, I might get Dorothy on the line, like last time, and if she chose not to hand over the phone I’d be out of luck. At least in person, I’d have better luck getting Melanie first if it came down to a sprint for the front door.
I closed out my work for the day and backed up my files. I’d never been to Melanie’s house, but thought I could find it easily enough from the address in the phone book. She was in the area off Academy Road that had been heavily developed in the seventies. A previous case had taken me into the area several times.
On the way I stopped at a supermarket and bought a small bouquet of mixed flowers. Maybe Dorothy would act a little more kindly toward me if I came bearing gifts.
Melanie and Bob’s home was a cream stuccoed, tile roofed, squared pillared place in a neighborhood filled with the same. Albuquerque developers tend to find a look they like and do it to death. The homes in this section were old enough now that the landscaping was past the baby stage, but not much. Trees were just beginning to top the rooflines of the second stories and shrubs had reached the point where they might actually be in need of a trim now and then. Melanie’s tan Nissan sat in the driveway.
“Charlie! What a surprise,” she greeted. “Come on in.”
She stepped aside and waved me into a small foyer that opened into a formal living room.
“Did you bring the flowers for Mother?”
“Oh. Yes, how is she doing?”
A tiny grimace tightened one corner of her mouth momentarily. “All right, I think. She’s napping at the moment. Come on in the kitchen and I’ll find a vase for these.”
I followed her through the living area, which was beautifully decorated in Southwestern shades of tan, gold, and brown with accents of turquoise. The kitchen looked like a chef’s dream, with stainless steel appliances, cherry cabinetry, and massive granite counter tops.
“Bob’s deal,” she explained when she caught me gaping. “He may be an orthopedist by day but his weekend passion is cooking. Once we got him through school and could afford it, we splurged on a kitchen to die for.”
“It’s absolutely beautiful,” I said. Like I would know what half this equipment was for, me who does nothing more complicated than frozen or packaged foods that can be microwaved.
I told Melanie about the faxes from the banks. “Did your grandfather ever wear ball caps?” I asked.
“Well, not really,” she said. “His very favorite hat was a beat up old straw western thing. But I guess he did own a couple of ball caps. Does! Does own ball caps. I can’t believe I referred to him in the past tense, Charlie.” Her lower lids filled with moisture. “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for a box of tissues.
“It’s okay. I know what you meant.” I turned to look at a poster on the wall that showed glass jars full of pasta. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to figure
out what’s happened.”
“I know you are. And I really appreciate it.”
“Would you recognize this cap?” I pulled out the better of the two faxes. “I know it’s dark, but there’s something written on the front of the cap. Does it look familiar?”
“Hmmm, not really. The cap, anyway. But there’s something about the posture. The slope of the shoulder or something—I can’t really pin it down. But it could be him.” She handed me back the page. “I just don’t know for sure.”
“Hey, what you’ve told me is really helpful,” I assured her. “This is the first positive news I’ve had in days.”
I left a few minutes later, thanking Melanie again. Dorothy had not awakened from her nap during my visit—I was secretly glad.
It was after four when I left Melanie’s and I still had to traverse the horrid construction zone of the interchange or figure out a way to zig-zag through town and avoid it. With rush hour traffic, I opted for the latter.
I phoned Ron at home as soon as I’d settled in and popped my frozen low-fat dinner into the microwave. His answering machine picked up.
“I think I’ll drive back to Phoenix tomorrow,” I said to the tape. “Melanie thinks the fax photo is her grandfather, so I’m going to see what I can do.”
The drive would take about eight hours and this time I decided I’d be ready for the great outdoors. I ate my microwaved chicken and rice dinner then started gathering my provisions. Into a soft duffle bag went all my previous gear plus a warm coat with hood, gloves, and several military-style Meals Ready to Eat, left over from one of Drake’s flight jobs. Somehow in the back of my mind I didn’t think I’d actually eat any of the MREs—being a city kid born and bred, I had a vision of hopping back in the car and running out to the nearest McDonald’s when I got hungry. But common sense and Drake’s voice in my head warned me that I better be ready. I set the duffle near the front door and added a sleeping bag and Drake’s lightweight tent to the pile.
Although the most direct route to Phoenix from Albuquerque is to take Interstate 40 to Flagstaff and make a left on I-17, it would put me at the opposite end of the city from where I needed to be. And, if I took the southern route I could make a couple of stops on the way. I set my bedside alarm for six.
The sky was already light the next morning as I loaded my gear into the back of my Jeep. The early air was crisp and cool, with the smell of lilacs blooming overlaid by someone’s newly mowed lawn. I’d eaten a bowl of cereal, some heavy granola that would stick with me awhile, and poured a travel mug of coffee. Rusty stayed right with me, making sure he was invited.
It was thirty minutes later, after we’d cleared most of the early morning traffic, that I got the chance for the first sip of my coffee. An hour after that, we were entering the town of Socorro. I’d never spent much time here, usually just buzzing through on my way somewhere else. About all I knew about the town was that it housed the university and that the Very Large Array, those dozens of huge satellite dishes aimed outward in hopes of making contact with life outside our solar system, was somewhere near here. I’d never been to either place.
But the town wasn’t that large and I located the school without much trouble. Signs pointed me toward the right department and I wandered into a large building that was stuccoed to look like adobe. The corridors looked a lot like any college corridors and I followed my instincts until I located a door with DR. FELIX McBRIDE painted on the wavy glass upper panel.
A secretary with a pair of bright red reading glasses perched on her nose typed rapidly at a computer keyboard. Her super-short dark hair lay close to her head like a feather cap, accentuating a prominent chin and petite ski-slope nose. She finished typing a sentence before turning to look at me over the tops of the glasses.
“I’m looking for Felix McBride,” I told her.
“Doctor McBride is in a meeting,” she said pointedly. “Do you have an appointment?”
She knew perfectly well that I didn’t. She was that kind of secretary. She probably scheduled his time to go to the bathroom.
“I just need a few minutes. When will he be free?”
She made a production of flipping the page on an appointment calendar that she kept on the credenza behind her, well away from prying eyes like mine.
“He has a few minutes free at three-thirty this afternoon,” she said with a satisfied smile. Teach me to walk in here unannounced. “Shall I pencil you in?” She tapped a yellow pencil against the desktop.
Voices approached the door to the hall, which I’d left standing open when I walked in. One was definitely Felix’s. He turned to shake hands with another man at the doorway, just as I turned toward him. The other man continued down the hall and Felix walked in.
“Ms. Parker.” He looked surprised to see me.
“May I have a word?” I asked smoothly.
He shot his secretary a look and ushered me past her into his private office. I could just about feel her poison darts in my back.
Felix’s private office was the antithesis of the standard cliché for a college professor. A large cherry desk stood in the center of the room, its surface clear except for a leather bound blotter and matching pen and pencil set, a carved wooden name plate, and an IN basket. The basket had one sheet of paper in it. The back wall was lined in bookcases filled with leather bound sets, most of which seemed to contain ‘minerals’ or ‘geology’ in the title. Atop the cherry shelves sat a single geode, more than a foot in diameter, displayed to reveal its crystalline purple center. Felix dropped into his high-backed leather executive chair and indicated a wingback side chair for me.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Parker?” he asked, resting one elbow on the arm of his chair and smoothing his black mustache.
“I should have thought to ask you a few questions yesterday, when I saw you at your father’s place,” I began. “It’s just that you startled me.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Dorothy threatened to fire me on Friday. She felt I’d made some inappropriate judgments about your father’s character.”
“Had you?” he asked without moving.
“I don’t think so. Have you heard about the explosion in one of the mine shafts at White Oaks?”
“Recently?”
“Last weekend.”
“No, I guess I hadn’t.” His left elbow remained on the armrest, his fingers now petting the black sideburn that ran just a touch below his earlobe.
“Someone was apparently storing chemicals used to manufacture drugs in one of the mines up there. During the police investigation, they found a pack of outdoor gear that belonged to your father. Dorothy became upset, thinking I was insinuating that your father was involved with the drugs.”
“Was he?” Felix asked the question so matter-of-factly it took me by surprise.
“Well, I certainly don’t think so,” I said. “And I wasn’t saying anything of the kind to Dorothy.”
“Ah, I think I understand. Dorothy inferred something that wasn’t there and blew up.”
“Well, yes.”
“You have to understand that Dorothy places a lot of importance on appearances,” he said, shifting his weight, switching chair arms and elbows.
And you don’t? I thought, glancing around the room.
“Appearances in the sense of how people act. It’s always eaten away at her that her own father was so, shall we say, so uncouth as to go stomping about in the dirt, grubbing for bits of gold. My own interest in metals, conducted from within the walls of a university, wasn’t nearly as unpalatable to her.”
“I talked to Bea afterward,” I said. “She told me to keep searching for your father. Said she’d cover expenses if Dorothy refused.”
His eyes hardened just a touch. “Search all you want,” he said. “I think we all want to know my father’s whereabouts.”
He glanced at his watch just a fraction of a second before the intercom buzzed. He raised an index finger toward me as he reached for
the handset. A prearranged escape route from his secretary.
“All right, Miss Adams,” he said into the phone. He raised his eyes to me. “You’ll have to excuse me now.”
I walked out past Miss Adams and traced my way back to my car. While I hadn’t expected a miracle confession or anything I’d hoped for something a bit more factual from Felix. But I felt okay about it. I’d learned a lot about his character.
Chapter 18
My timing was perfect as I pulled into White Oaks right at lunch time. Randel’s parking lot had two other cars in it, both local I guessed by the amount of dust on them.
“Hey there, Charlie,” Keith greeted. “More of them chicken enchiladas for ya today?”
“Um, I think I better go a little lighter than that. How about a turkey sandwich?”
“You got it.” He poured me a glass of iced tea and headed toward the kitchen.
The other two people occupied a single table behind where I sat at the counter. They’d opted for breakfast food, I noticed, one with pancakes, the other a plate of huevos rancheros smothered in red chile. Their conversation had lagged when I walked in but picked up again after I’d placed my order.
“So, is the latest excitement over with?” I asked Keith as he set my sandwich down on the counter.
“Guess so,” he said. “Big city boys all went home. Even Buckman ain’t been in since yesterday.” He straightened salt and pepper shakers and wiped the counter slowly. “Sure was good for business though,” he said wistfully.
“Now don’t you go blowing up anything or starting any fires just to boost your business,” I joked. I took a big bite from my sandwich. He’d made it with smoked turkey and thinly sliced Swiss cheese, just the way I like it.
“No, guess I couldn’t do that,” he chuckled. “We’ll be into the tourist season pretty soon. Things get pretty busy in the summer.”
The other two men began scraping their chairs back, ready to leave. One of them handed some cash over the counter to Randel and wished him a good day. I worked on my sandwich until the door closed behind them.
Reunions Can Be Murder: The Seventh Charlie Parker Mystery Page 16
