by Nancy Bush
I was going to have to look for her off-site.
Creeping downstairs, I listened at the salon keyhole. Reyna appeared from the kitchen and looked at me. I waved and she simply turned away.
“…Didn’t hear about this yesterday,” Jazz was saying, his voice a bit higher than normal. “I really want Jane to hear this. I’ll go find her.”
“She’s locked herself in the bathroom,” Roderick said lazily.
“And she’s not working for us,” Cammie added. “Pay her any amount you want, Jazz. You want to buy women, go right ahead. But don’t expect cooperation from the rest of us. Personally, I think she should be held liable for Nana’s disappearance. If anything’s happened to Nana because of that woman…” She left the thought unfinished but my heart clutched.
“You think Reyna should be held liable, too,” Jazz stated.
“What are you talking about?”
“She just said you blamed her.”
“Oh, she’s a…” I couldn’t hear the rest but Cammie sounded fit to be tied.
James had a Rodney King moment, saying something about everyone needing to get along.
“Let’s get back to the matter at hand.” Neusmeyer’s voice came through the door, cool and smooth. Sweat broke out on my skin. “I’ll keep a copy of the POA. With everything in order, things will continue to run smoothly. But, of course, finding Orchid is of utmost importance.”
POA? Orchid had signed the Power of Attorney? My mind flew to possibilities. Had someone coerced her to sign it?
“That goes without saying,” Garrett told Neusmeyer. “We’re all terribly concerned for her.”
“And we’ve alerted the news media, too,” Dahlia said.
“When did you do that?” Jazz was surprised. He wasn’t the only one. I wondered who’d initiated that part of the bargain.
Dahlia tried to fob him off with, “You act like we’ve forgotten about her. She’s my mother.”
“I’m getting Jane,” Jazz responded and this time his footsteps strode my way. I hurriedly scuttled to the kitchen and jumped on a stool. Reyna was making dinner. She glanced at me but kept her own counsel. Jazz appeared a few moments later, his cheeks suffused with color. He said with relief, “There you are. They all act like I’ve heard things before, but I don’t think so. Maybe it’s because I can’t remember. I don’t know. It’s so frustrating.”
I wanted to ask him about the Power of Attorney. When had Orchid signed it? Yesterday they were all about it. Today, it was suddenly just there?
“She signed a POA,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “Can you believe that?”
“When was this supposed to have happened?”
“I don’t know. They’re saying they already told me. Did they? I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Come with me,” he said, urging me to follow him. I stood where I was, and he stopped at the kitchen door. “You know this isn’t right. Nana didn’t sign anything.”
“No…but…I wasn’t with her the entire day yesterday. I saw her in the afternoon. The papers were there for her to sign.”
“You think she signed them?”
My gut instinct was to say no, but I really had no idea. It seemed too opportune. “I’m just saying it’s possible, time-wise, I guess.”
“They never told me,” Jazz stated emphatically. “I would have remembered something this important. They’re using my memory loss against me.” I thought he might be right, but there was no way of knowing. “Dahlia just dropped the bomb this morning,” he went on. “She’s the attorney in fact. James witnessed it.”
Reyna shared a look with me as I followed Jazz into the entry hall. We entered at the same time Neusmeyer and the rest of the Purcell gang spilled out of the salon. Before I could prevent him, Jazz clasped my hand and dragged me forward. He introduced me as Jane Kelly to Neusmeyer with puppy-like eagerness, as if he really wanted to impress the man with how he’d handled this whole Nana problem.
The attorney shook my hand and stared at me. My insides felt like ice. I’d forgotten how short he was until I realized if we were to stare straight at each other I would be gazing at his forehead. But I didn’t meet his inquiring look. Instead, I kept my focus off to one side, as if I were kind of lost in thought, not completely in the moment. I didn’t want anything to cue him that we’d met before, and I’ve found sometimes being purposely vague helps make people remember your behavior over your appearance.
I could see his brow furrow but he didn’t put it together. It probably helped that my V-neck was discreet and there was no hint of cleavage. Last time he’d been more interested in my boobs than about anything. This time I just smiled a little when he introduced himself. Jazz said my name was Jane Kelly.
Nobody else in the family showed me much interest, which was fine by me. I practically bolted out of there. Since I’d convinced myself Orchid was not in James’s rooms, there wasn’t any reason to hang around. Maybe he could have had her hidden somewhere, but there wasn’t a lot of space for much besides his “art.” And it felt more like he would want to hide his curious obsession with knives from his mother than subject her to it day and night. And what point would it be to confine her anyway?
No, I sensed Orchid was off the premises. Where, I didn’t know, but I intended to find out. I just hoped she was still alive.
Chapter Nine
Jazz gave me a good-bye hug and said he’d call later. I strode quickly to my car, feeling like I was poised on the brink of a relationship. I asked myself if that’s what I really wanted as I drove out the Purcells’ exit to Chrysanthemum Lane. I didn’t have an answer.
Glancing over to the roof of the house just visible above the maple trees, I recalled the elusive thought I’d been unable to grasp earlier. It was the vision of Nate inserting my phone number into his cell phone with such alacrity, as if he were a born computer programmer. I don’t have the love of electronics that seems to voraciously infect young men. Some young women, too. I’ve never actually reviewed the CD about “You and Your Cell Phone” that the salesman had heralded as an absolute must, but I’ve fumbled my way through learning all the menus, tweaks, bells and buzzers. I’ve always felt I could be good at it, if I just cared a little more.
Now I pulled over, parking the Volvo cockeyed at the end of another long, tree-lined drive to a home I couldn’t see. Dragging my cell phone from my pocket, I turned it over in my hands. Orchid, the prisoner, hadn’t had a phone in her room, but she loved, loved, loved Logan, who’d spent every moment that I’d been around him glued to his Game Boy. I suspected he possessed a cell phone as well. If not his own, then he probably had Jazz’s from time to time.
And Orchid liked to spend time with Logan. He was her favorite.
So, how do you keep a kid like Logan interested? What do you talk about when you’re in your eighties and he’s barely a teenager? You engage him in a discussion—or possibly even a demonstration—of something he loves. Or, maybe you just sit there and he, lost for something to say to you, decides to show you all about the wonders of the cell phone.
And Orchid loved menus.
I cursed myself for not viewing the How To CD and learning to be more cell phone savvy. But I wasn’t completely at a loss, either. I pushed the button with its green phone icon and got a list of recent incoming and outgoing calls. I didn’t recognize all of them. I didn’t have them cataloged on my contact list like real cell phone whizzes do. I picked out an outgoing number from yesterday afternoon with a Lake Chinook prefix but no identifying name and pushed the call button.
“Lake Chinook Adult Community Center.”
Bingo! I was almost surprised that I was right. After a moment’s hesitation, I responded, “I’m looking for Orchid Purcell.”
The voice, momentarily welcoming, took on a careful tone. “May I ask who’s calling?”
Since I’d learned the Purcells had alerted the police and apparently the media, I didn’t see any reason not to be forthright myself. “My name’s Jane Kelly. I�
��m a…private investigator hired by the family to help find Orchid. I’m sure the police have already contacted you about her disappearance…?”
“Oh, yes, yes. But we told them we haven’t seen Orchid for months. Ever since the family decided it wasn’t a good idea.”
“She hasn’t contacted you?”
“No, ma’am.”
My cell phone said differently. It had been stuck inside the cushions of Orchid’s couch, and since I knew I hadn’t made the call, someone who’d been in Orchid’s rooms had. It made sense that it was Orchid herself.
“Were you working yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re the person who most often answers this number?”
“Well…yes, I suppose.”
“And Orchid did not call anytime yesterday?”
“No. Of course not. I would have told the police that.”
“Could she have called when you were away from the desk?”
“No one left any messages, if that’s what you mean.” Her tone grew tart. “I don’t leave the desk unattended. There’s always someone here.”
“Who would be there, if it wasn’t you?”
There was a moment of silence. I could tell she was trying to outguess me. I didn’t want to alienate her, but I needed the information. “I told the police that none of us had heard from Mrs. Purcell in months.”
“What about friends? The police must have asked who she would contact.”
“I gave them a list of her friends.” Now, her tone was out and out frosty. I was apparently questioning her ability and she didn’t like it one bit. I sensed that if I asked for the same list she’d tell me where to stick it.
“Oh, good,” I said enthusiastically. “Hopefully the police plan to give that list to Garrett. He’s so upset. He’s really on the warpath. I told him I’d tried to jog things along, you know, so that we could keep the family involved. The police are great, but it’s kind of a long grind, y’know? So much protocol. It’s just so difficult. We’re all so worried.”
“I can imagine…” Her tone warmed a fraction.
I pushed a little harder. “If you could do anything to help speed up the process…?”
“There aren’t that many people who come to the center who know Orchid. And she hasn’t been well for a while now, bless her heart, and when she did come she sometimes said things that were hurtful, not that she meant to.”
“She hasn’t been herself lately,” I said, adding, “but she was always a gracious woman.”
“Exactly. Tell Garrett I gave them William’s name and address, and Bonnie’s.”
“Could you give them to me, too? So, Garrett doesn’t have to bother?”
“Let me see…” She put down the phone and returned a few minutes later, rattling off both addresses and phone numbers.
I was about to hang up, but then asked, “Were either William or Bonnie at the center yesterday afternoon?”
“Both of them were here for lunch.”
I thanked her profusely, then did a happy dance in the Volvo bucket seat. I was feeling pretty damn smug about my investigative skills. I possessed the same information that the police had with the added knowledge that someone had called the center yesterday from my phone, presumably while it was inside Orchid’s suite.
There was, of course, the off chance that someone had used it somewhere else, but that someone would have had to be able to stuff it back inside the cushions where I discovered it. That someone would have had to do it deliberately, and that would mean there was an out and out plot to hide Orchid. Now, I was betting the answer was far simpler. My money was on Orchid.
Both Bonnie Chisholm and William DeForest resided in Lake Chinook, and both of them also lived in First Addition, not far from the Adult Community Center. I drove out of Dunthorpe and back to Lake Chinook proper, cruising through First Addition, admiring the Craftsman-style cottages, counting up the new developments of condos and larger homes that were muscling out some of the older, smaller houses. I wondered which place was home to the vandal who was giving Lorraine’s friend such fits.
I drove past an apartment building undergoing major reconstruction, possibly in the throes of a condo conversion. The builder’s name was on a sign with a telephone number. Someone had tossed eggs at it, and the yellow, runny yolk had slid over the letters and numbers in a nasty obscuring slime. I realized the apartments were owned by the guy I knew. If I needed more information, I would contact him and see who he thought was behind the vandalism.
Bonnie Chisholm’s house was a dilapidated cottage about four blocks from the Adult Community Center. A fortyish man was mowing the front yard using a push mower. He was making small headway against a thriving field of daisies and buttercups, but he seemed determined. Laurel bushes looked like they were about to swallow the house from all sides. He was going to need serious clippers to get those monsters under control.
I pulled in the drive. When the man turned his mower in my direction he looked up at me and frowned.
I got out of the car. He mowed to the edge of the driveway and stopped. “I’m looking for Bonnie Chisholm.”
He was in pretty good shape, a tad paunchy maybe. Wiping his brow with the back of his wrist, he said, “My mom’s at a doctor’s appointment. Something I can help you with?”
“I’m working for the Purcell family. We’re trying to locate Orchid Purcell, who’s a friend of your mother’s. She’s missing. Have you seen it on the news?”
“No. What happened?”
“We don’t really know. She seems to have walked away from the family home.”
“She the one who’s batty?”
“She’s suffering from some dementia,” I agreed.
He leaned against the mower’s handle. “I don’t think my mom likes her much. She’s always complaining about her. The Purcell woman thinks she’s too good for everybody, or something. They’re all just old and kinda, you know…” He twirled a finger beside his ear.
“Think I could talk to your mom later on?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “She’ll be back later this afternoon.”
“I’ll try to stop back by.”
Clearly the police hadn’t checked with Bonnie, yet. Or, if they’d tried, they hadn’t connected. I climbed back in the Volvo and headed to William’s house, which was on a corner lot and built of red brick faded to a rose color. It was a two-story, commanding residence with high, mullioned windows and a mansard roof. It looked out of place among the cottages and I felt it must be far newer than its appearance would lead you to believe. The yard was manicured and edged. Little mushroom-shaped lights lined the walkway to the front door, which was surrounded by narrow, beveled windows—lights, as they’re called in building parlance. The doorbell was a brass lion’s head with a lighted circle in its mouth. I pressed it and listened to a long, tolling peal fit for announcing His Royal Highness.
It took awhile to get any response. I rang again and was about to push the bell for a third time when I saw movement through the sidelights. I half-expected some somber butler, or a maid in a black dress with a frilly white cap and apron to open the door. Instead I got a stooped, older gentleman in a dove gray sweater and matching slacks. His hair, too, was gray—what was left of it—and it lay in greased-down, comb-over strands across his head. He wore wire-rim glasses, rather natty and hip, and he looked straight at me through suspicious, intelligent blue eyes.
He opened the door a crack and asked, “May I help you?”
“Are you William DeForest?”
“Yes. Who might you be?”
I introduced myself to him as I had to Bonnie’s son. William’s eyes assessed me with unwavering criticism as I gave my spiel. I was therefore surprised when he suddenly swung the door wide and bade me to follow him down a hall to the TV room.
He swept some books and papers from a leather La-Z-Boy for me, then settled himself onto a couch covered with a red and green knitted afghan. The La-Z-Boy’s leather
felt warm, as if a body had recently been sitting in it. The Daily Crossword was folded, half done, and left on a nearby table next to a pair of glasses.
“I haven’t had the TV on today,” William said. “I didn’t know about Orchid. Wha’d she do? Walk off again?”
“Again?”
His brows were gray and bushy. When he drew them together he looked like a Schnauzer in glasses. “Didn’t they tell you? She’s wandered off a time or two. Damn near fell over the cliff once. That caretaker girl caught her, but one of the family was supposed to be watching her.” He smiled smugly. “I called the police myself, that time, when Orchid told me. Warned them about her kids.”
“She’s actually wandered off the grounds before?” I was picking my way carefully, trying to discern what was real and what wasn’t. I hadn’t heard that from the Purcells. And William struck me as the kind of guy who liked to embellish and place himself in the hero role at every opportunity.
“Now, I didn’t say that. You’re putting words in my mouth, girl. But Orchid’s not the lady she once was, more’s the pity. Still a beautiful woman, but she’s confused a lot now.”
“You’ve known her a while.”
“I’ve known her a hundred years.” He chuckled. “Knew Percy—James—too. What a rascal. You know about him, don’t ya? Him and his little ladies?”
“I…don’t think so.”
He flapped a hand at me. “Well, it’s all old news now. Orchid’s a fine woman, but she deserved better. And after what he did to his own flesh and blood. Sending her to that place. I felt sorry that Violet left, too.”
“You mean…Lily?”
William gave me a sharp look. “Percy didn’t want to admit that Lily was just like him. That’s why she went to the Haven of Rest.”
I was a bit confused, wondering if this was his euphemism for death. “He thought she was just like him how?”
