She said to the Hoffmans, “I can’t promise that I’ll adopt your grandson’s case, but I have a couple of days free and I’ll talk to the detective in charge. Whatever I learn, I’ll make sure you know. But you need to understand that there might not be any new information. The police may not have any suspects, or if they do but can’t prove it, they’re not going to share that with me.”
Penny nodded, wide-eyed. “Of course. I just really appreciate your time. I know you’re very busy.”
She dismissed that comment. Everyone was busy, she no more so than anyone else. “Do you have your son and granddaughter’s contact information? I may need to talk to them.”
“Yes, right here.” She pulled her wallet from her purse.
Henry put his hand on Penny’s, but looked at Max. “Mike isn’t going to appreciate us getting involved. I talked to him after Jess’s visit, and he was very angry that Jess had worried us. This is her wedding. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Nor do I.” Max couldn’t tell him that what she learned wouldn’t impact Jessica’s wedding or divide their family. What she wanted and what usually happened whenever a murder was close to home rarely matched.
Henry seemed to understand. His eyes watered. Penny was a bit more clueless.
“I can walk away,” Max said. “Tell me now, and I’ll leave the case alone.”
Penny looked panicked. “No, please—”
Again, Max focused on Henry.
He let go of Penny’s hand. “The truth is better than not knowing,” he said quietly.
Max believed it, but few other people did. Most people said they wanted the truth, but few appreciated it. Many people hated her for telling them the truth—truths that they asked for.
She thanked the Hoffmans and walked out, melancholy and unsettled. But she wasn’t thinking about Jason Hoffman. She was thinking about Lindy.
No one was asking her to look into Lindy’s murder. If anything, people wanted her to steer clear of it. Detective Beck. William. Andy. Max was the one who wanted the truth. Could she live with the truth if she uncovered it?
* * *
Max had enough time before the funeral to check out Evergreen Construction. The main office was in downtown Redwood City near the county center, but there was no one in the office today. In this economy, a construction project would be working weekends, and since Jason was killed at Atherton Prep that’s where she would start.
She considered calling Jasper Pierce, or even her great-uncle, Archer Sterling, but decided to use that card when she needed it. Gather information first. Besides, Archer was her grandmother’s brother—he would tell Eleanor everything Max was doing.
She wanted to get a feeling for the business. Maybe someone would talk—it had happened to her more than a few times. Share what they know. Give her a direction, a lead to pursue.
Nostalgia hit her when she drove through Atherton to her high school campus. It was a beautiful campus, most of the land donated by the Ames family, who’d once owned a large chunk of the town. The Sterling Pierce Sports Center was on the south side of the campus—it had once been grass and trees; most of the trees remained, she was pleased to note—the complex made good use of the open space for the substantial footprint of the building.
She used the construction entrance, not the main school entrance. She was surprised at how quickly the building was being constructed—the sign out front boasted that the gym would be open in December. Right now, they had a basement dug out—according to the plans posted near the entrance, the basement would house the wrestling room, weight room, locker rooms, and practice gym. She felt a little thrill at the excitement of the project—what a remarkable facility. She would love to see it when it was complete.
Construction sites had valuable equipment, not just machinery and tools, but wiring, pipes, heating and AC units. Had something been delivered that weekend? Valuable enough to kill for, Max supposed, but in the construction thefts she’d read about they usually went in and out late at night, at a site that wasn’t guarded or had no security cameras, and took what they could haul off in a few hours. The thieves were about low risk/high reward—murder wasn’t usually a result.
As soon as she got out of her rental sedan, Max was approached by a burly fifty-year-old in a hard hat. “Can I help you with something, miss?”
She handed him her card. “Maxine Revere. I’m a freelance reporter working on an article about theft on construction sites. I’m also an alum of Atherton Prep. I wanted to talk to the manager about the theft here last year.”
“I’m the foreman, I run this project, but you’d probably want to talk to Mr. Robeaux. He won’t be back until Monday.”
“Actually, I’d rather speak with you.”
He didn’t like the idea of talking to her. “I’m really busy. We run on reduced labor over the weekend, I have deadlines to meet and—”
“Five minutes. I promise.”
He sighed, and said, “You can’t quote me, not without Mr. Robeaux’s permission.”
“Agreed.”
“What paper?”
“Freelance.”
“So you don’t have a job.”
Max was amused. “I’ve had my work published in the San Francisco Chronicle, The New York Times, the Los Angeles Times—most major newspapers, in addition to numerous magazines.”
“You mean they still have papers?” He laughed. Max did not. She followed him into one of the trailers. A young woman, not more than twenty, was sitting at a desk typing on an electric typewriter, a stack of triplicate forms next to her. She glanced at them without slowing down.
“So, Ms. Revere, what do you want to know?”
He sat behind a cluttered desk with a partially obscured nameplate. She pushed aside the paper blocking his first name. Roger Lawrence.
She pulled out her notepad. “According to my research, there were a total of twenty-eight construction thefts in San Mateo County last year. This robbery was the only one that resulted in a death.”
“Jason.” He shook his head. “Loved that kid.”
“You knew him well?”
“I’ve worked for Mr. Robeaux for fifteen years. Jason loved the business. He loved building design, creating structures that blended in with their surroundings. Not really my cuppa, but he had me sold—just the way he talked about it.” He jerked his thumb toward the door, but Max had no idea what he was referring to. “That big oak in the courtyard? We were going to remove it. The law says we have to preserve as much as possible, a minimum number of trees and such, but not everything. Jason tweaked the plans so the tree could stay, and honestly, the whole place is going to look better for it. He would have made a terrific architect. Gordon Cho, our architect on the project, was particularly devastated by Jason’s death. He’d been Jason’s mentor for years.”
“I haven’t been able to reach the detective in charge of the case, so I don’t have a copy of the police report yet. Do you remember what was taken?”
“Nothing—that’s the thing, there was nothing to take. We’d surveyed the site, were ready to break ground and do some preliminary work that wasn’t dependent on weather. I always thought the thieves were after something in the school, or that they saw Jason lurking around and thought he was a guard or whatever. I don’t think we’ll ever really know.”
“Why was Jason here late on a Saturday night?”
“I have no idea. Honestly, Ms. Revere, I don’t know why he was here, other than he loved the project and was excited to start working on it. We’d planned the ground breaking on Monday morning, by the oak tree. He and his uncle had spent most of Saturday here—oh, you know, the trailers had been delivered to the site the Wednesday before. Maybe the thieves thought something was inside.”
A lot of maybes and what-ifs.
As Roger spoke, Max noticed that the secretary was typing slower. More deliberate. The girl was eavesdropping. Max wanted to talk to her, but not here, and not in front of Roger.
“W
hat about security? About half the construction sites had some surveillance, the others took their chances with lock and key.” Max was making up those statistics—she had no idea whether that was true, but she couldn’t quickly think up another way to question Roger about Evergreen security.
“We were putting in a state-of-the-art security system—part of our agreement with the school and financing company. But it wasn’t in at that point.”
Roger grabbed his ringing phone. “Sorry, but this is a supplier, and he’s been calling me for the last three minutes.”
“Not a problem. I have another appointment. Thank you for your time.” She stood and let Roger answer the phone. She walked over to the girl. There was no nameplate on her desk. “Hello,” she said quietly. “Maxine Revere.”
“Dru.” She glanced at Roger. “I can’t talk.”
Max slipped Dru her card. From behind her, Roger said, “Dru! Take these contracts to the post office now. They have to be there by Monday.” He put an express envelope on her desk. “Excuse us, Ms. Revere, we’re really busy right now.”
“I understand.” She walked out and glanced back at the trailer as she drove off. Dru was getting into a bright yellow VW Bug with the package.
The secretary definitely had something to say. Max was going to find out what.
* * *
Max waited for Dru outside the closest FedEx office. What was truly odd about the exchange is that most businesses had a shipping account that picked up packages, even on Saturdays. It certainly wasn’t cost-effective to send staff to the storefront for daily shipments. Had Dru not left the construction site, Max may not have gotten suspicious, but it was clear to her that Roger didn’t want Max to talk to the secretary, and that made Max twitch. She sent David a message with Dru’s license plate number, her employer, and her description, and asked him, when he had time, to dig up what he could on her, as well as Roger the foreman.
David sent back a message: Have any last names for me, or are you trying to make this particularly difficult?
She smiled and responded: Roger Lawrence. Nada on Dru.
Dru walked out of the shipping office and toward her car. Max was parked next to her, but Dru didn’t notice her until Max stepped out of her car. The girl jumped, then glanced around.
“Hello, Dru.”
“Did you follow me?”
“No.” Not technically. She’d made an educated guess as to where she’d go to mail the package. Considering it was already preprepared in a FedEx pouch, it wasn’t difficult. “Let’s talk.”
“I can’t.”
“Roger isn’t here.”
“Roger?”
“He didn’t seem to want you to talk to me.”
She shrugged it off. “He’s just protective of Evergreen and Mr. Robeaux. There were a lot of people hanging around after Jason’s murder.…” Her voice trailed off. “I have to get back.”
Max walked around her car and put her hand on Dru’s door as she tried to close it. “Dru, don’t you want to know what happened to Jason?”
“He’s dead. I’m sorry, really—I liked Jason a lot. But I don’t want to get in the middle of this.”
“You’re already in the middle of this. If you know anything, you need to tell me.”
“I thought you were a reporter, not a cop.”
“Jason’s family wants to know who killed him.”
Dru stared at her like she was crazy. “I really gotta go.”
“Dru, please—”
“I can’t talk to you!” She was beginning to get scared and her voice increased in pitch. Several people looked over at them.
“You have my card. Call me. I promise you, keeping secrets will tear you up inside.”
Dru drove so fast out of the parking lot she ground her gears.
Maybe Max should have a talk with Jessica today and follow up on the conversation that Jason’s sister had with Detective Santini.
She looked at the time. Dammit, if she didn’t go straight to St. Bede’s, she’d be late for Kevin’s funeral. Jason’s murder was going to have to go on the back burner until tomorrow.
Chapter Seven
Max sat in the pew to the left of the altar during Kevin’s funeral service at St. Bede’s where she could watch who came to pay their respects. Anita Gonzales sat near the front with several elderly women who were probably Kevin’s neighbors. In the back, as if to make a quick getaway, were a hodgepodge of casually dressed young people, who Max suspected were Kevin’s coworkers at the coffee shop. A few other people dotted the pews of the large church, including Kevin’s mother, Helen, who sat in the back and didn’t talk to anyone except Jodi. His father hadn’t shown up at all.
Mrs. O’Neal had aged greatly. They’d moved out of Atherton after the trial, and Max didn’t think either Helen or Rob had truly recovered from the stigma of having a son on trial for rape and murder. Adding to this was Kevin’s subsequent drug and alcohol abuse and now, his suicide. But the least Mrs. O’Neal could have done was to help Jodi deal with the mourners, with the church, with closing up Kevin’s apartment. Max considered her selfish in her aloofness, letting a nineteen-year-old handle the pressure of the funeral. Mrs. Gonzales showed more sincere affection for Jodi and her grief than Jodi’s own mother. It was clear that Jodi was trying to do everything for her brother, who had few people who cared whether he had a funeral or not.
Jodi had asked her to give a eulogy, but Max declined. What could she say about him? She hadn’t spoken to him in more than a decade. And she certainly couldn’t talk about his suicide or what she’d found in his apartment. She hadn’t even told Jodi yet, waiting for the right time—which was not going to be now. The girl was a bundle of nerves as it was.
After the readings, Jodi walked up to the pulpit to talk about her brother to the church that sat six hundred and fifty, but currently had only thirty people in the cavernous space.
“Kevin was my big brother. He always supported me and encouraged me to pursue my art, even when our dad said I’d never make any money from my drawings.” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a half sob. “We both loved books, shared them all the time. Kevin particularly loved science fiction and fantasy, and he used to laugh at my collection of Nora Roberts books. But you know, I always wanted the happy ending.”
As Jodi spoke, the rear doors opened and William entered, taking a seat in one of the back rows. Though Saturday, he was dressed in a suit and tie and looked like the lawyer he was.
Before Lindy’s murder, William and Kevin had never been best buddies, but they’d gotten along because they all hung out with the same people. In some ways, Lindy had been the glue of their extended group. She knew everyone. She organized every party, every event, served as class president, had been homecoming queen. Max often wondered if Lindy’s life was one long checklist of things to do. Swim team, check. Student body president, check. Date the high school quarterback, check. Max wasn’t surprised she hadn’t maintained any friendships from high school, other than her cousin, because after Lindy was killed, no one in their school would talk to her because she sided with Kevin.
She’d never forget what Caitlin Talbot had said to her the first day of Kevin’s trial, after the judge closed the courtroom to everyone except those who needed to be there. Max had been sitting on a bench outside, waiting for information. Caitlin was there—maybe to give testimony, or to show support to Mr. and Mrs. Ames, Max didn’t know at the time—and stood in front of Max.
“Lindy always said you were her best friend, but you’re showing your true colors now.”
“True colors? What do you mean by that?”
“I hope Lindy haunts you for the rest of your life. She always defended you and stood up for you even when you were a total bitch. No one trusts you. You’re siding with the enemy. A killer. Kevin raped and strangled her, and it’s going to be proven in court. I told her you were white trash, and this proves it.”
“Proves it?”
“You shouldn’t h
ave the Revere name. Oh, but wait, you don’t even know what your real name is, do you?”
Caitlin had always been good at pulling out the most hurtful thing she could say and using it when a person was at their lowest. Max had always prided herself at being able to verbally defend herself, not letting Caitlin or anyone else get under her skin. But that day, it had. That day she’d wondered if she was betraying Lindy in some way. What else could she have done? Kevin looked her in the eye and swore he hadn’t killed their friend. Max believed him.
William caught Max staring at him, and he looked away. Max took a deep breath and focused on Jodi talking about how Kevin used to take her to the park every Sunday afternoon, just the two of them, and how she’d never forget him pushing her higher and higher on the swings.
She half wanted Olivia Langstrom to show up at the funeral, but so far she was a no-show. Last night, when she couldn’t sleep, Max had dug around and learned that Olivia was living in nearby Palo Alto, married to a college professor who looked at least fifteen years her senior.
For a long time, Max didn’t believe Kevin about his odd relationship with Olivia, but she kept coming round to the fact that Kevin didn’t have to tell her. She’d believed him when he told her—and the jury—that he’d been home when Lindy had been murdered. There was no reason to confess that he’d really been with Olivia, except that the guilt of his lie had been too much for him to keep to himself. Olivia had been part of their clique, the daughter of a respected and feared town council member; her testimony would have removed any cloud of doubt. In fact, Kevin would never have been charged had Olivia come forward.
The more Max thought about it, the more confused she was about why Kevin lied, why he told her the truth—if it was the truth—and why Olivia never spoke about that night. There was definitely something more to that part of the story, which now only Olivia Langstrom could answer.
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