He chewed happily for a moment. "Yeah, beepers. Must be pulling down some bucks too. He invited me and a couple other guys out to play golf at this big-deal private country club up there last month. I tell ya, Callahan, I could get used to that kind of life."
We chatted aimlessly for a few more minutes, mostly about cop-shop politics and office gossip. Finally Bucky looked at his watch and laughed.
"OK, Callahan. We been shooting the shit here for forty-five minutes. You wanna tell me why you came looking for me tonight and what kind of favor you're needing?"
Honesty is one of Bucky's finer traits.
"You're right. I admit it," I said, signaling Tinkles to bring another round. "I do need a favor."
"Is this the kind of favor that could get my butt canned?"
"Only if you're dumb enough to get caught."
The niceties aside, I filled him in on what I needed. A check on the National Crime Information Center and the Georgia Crime Information Center, to see if Kristee Ewbanks had a record. I also gave him the description I had of Lilah's missing jewelry and the coins from her husband's collection. I knew Bucky could check the computerized records local pawn shops file with the cops every week. He wrote everything in tiny block letters on a bar napkin, folded it, and tucked it in the breast pocket of his bowling shirt.
"I don't guess these people have called in a report, have they?" he asked.
"Uh-uh. They're rich, Bucky. And the rich are not like you and me. They don't want any publicity or hassle. All they want is for me to find this chick and get her to hand over their stuff."
Bucky rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know the type. OK. Now, is there anything else?"
I mentally scrolled down my to do list. "You might ask around quietly about this developer, DuBose Beemish. I think he's involved in something hinky."
"Hinky or kinky?" Bucky demanded, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.
"Both, probably. But I already know he screws around on his wife. I need to know now what he's done out of bed that someone might want to blackmail him over."
The wolfish grin faded fast. He leaned over until his face was inches from mine. The onion breath damn near killed me. "Look, Callahan. I don't know what you're getting yourself involved in here, but it sounds like a lot more than just tracking down a petty crook. I know you won't do what I tell you, but I'll say it anyway. You need to clean these people's house and tell them to go to the cops for the really dirty work. Seriously."
"Can't do it," I said lightly, hopping off the bar stool and digging in my pockets for some folding money. "I need these people's cash. Two of my girls have been out of work, and my van is making very expensive-sounding noises. Besides, this one is a cinch, Bucky. I can find this chick in my sleep, practically. As long as you help me out."
I pulled a ten and a five out of my pocket and placed them on the bar between us.
"Gotta go now, sweets," I told him. "Can you get that stuff tomorrow, do you think?"
He shook his head in mock disgust, but I knew he'd do it. I started to walk out, then had a thought.
"Hey, Buck, you still living in that rat hole over on North Highland?"
He tried to look offended. "If you mean my pied a terre, certainly. Why?"
"Leave the key up on the right corner of the door ledge day after tomorrow. I'll send one of my girls over to shovel the place out. Hell, if you leave her some clean sheets, she'll even make your bed for you. My treat."
"Outa sight," he said. "You got a deal."
8
I WAS READING MY HOROSCOPE in the Atlanta Constitution and enjoying the quiet. Edna had left early to pick up some cleaning supplies from the wholesale house. There was coffee in the pot, and outside the kitchen window I could see a blue jay angrily trying to defend the bird feeder from a squirrel. The window was smudged. Maybe I would clean it. Maybe not. It was only 8 A.M., after all. Too early for real work. Too early for our clients to start calling and wanting me to reschedule the rest of the week just so they could get their refrigerator defrosted immediately.
And it looked like a good day for us Leos. "Long-pending arrangements will result in financial windfall," the horoscope said. "Domestic situation should improve dramatically."
I was pondering what that could mean when I heard the sound of a heavy car door slamming. Actually, it sounded more like it came from a pickup truck. Coming up the driveway I heard the soft slapping sound of slippers against bare feet. I'd heard that sound before. "There goes my domestic situation," I said out loud.
I glanced toward the screen door. A tall woman with frizzy, bleached-blond hair tied in a ponytail stood on the other side of the door, smiling a lopsided kind of smile. She was missing a tooth in front, on the bottom. As usual, she had on dark glasses and smeared red lipstick that made her upper lip look unusually large. She was dressed in tight pink polyester shorts topped by a pale pink House Mouse smock. The fishbelly-white legs, crisscrossed with varicose veins, ended in fuzzy pink house shoes.
"Come on in, Neva Jean," I said. "I see you got a ride home."
"Let me just tell Swanelle to go on," she said, and, turning, she waved giddily to the red truck in the driveway. "Woo-ooh, Swanelle, you can go on; Callahan's here. Don't forget to pick me up at five-thirty, now."
The truck backed out of the driveway, doing about forty mph. I listened with satisfaction as I heard the axle hit the bump at the bottom of the driveway.
Neva Jean stepped back inside, cha-chaed over to the refrigerator, and stood there with the door open, surveying the contents. Her lips formed a pout. "Now, who's been drinking my Mountain Dew? I put a six-pack in here last week and it's gone. Edna knows I like a Mountain Dew in the morning before I go to work."
I was back at the kitchen table by then, checking the daybook to see what Edna had planned for the girls.
"I don't know who drank your Mountain Dew, Neva Jean," I said evenly. "I myself wouldn't touch a drink that looks like carbonated antifreeze. Welcome back, by the way. I take it you and Swanelle made up?"
"You could say that," she said, winking broadly. "Took all night, too. Lord, I'm sore in places I didn't know I had."
I looked up from the book and tried to fix her with a serious stare. "Well, you tell that asshole husband of yours the next time he abandons you a hundred miles from home the night before you've got a full day's work lined up, he can kiss his wife's job good-bye."
I wasn't that mad, really. Neva Jean's always pulling stuff like this. This was the way you have to talk to someone like Neva Jean. "Like you talk to a mule," Edna had explained. "With a two-by-four upside the head."
Neva Jean sat down at the table opposite me, chastened, a little, and took a swig of the Nehi Orange she'd found in the fridge.
"You didn't cancel the Mahaffeys or the Greenbergs, did you? Mrs. Mahaffey especially wanted me to clean out her butler's pantry and scrub it down today. And the Greenbergs—if you miss a week there, the next time you go it's like a month's worth of cleaning. I swannee, those people don't even empty their own trash in between times."
"No, you're going to catch them both today," I said. "And after you're done with them, there's a condo in Inman Park. It's a new job. You can hit that on the way back from the Greenbergs. It's only five rooms."
I reached over to the pegboard on the wall in back of me and handed her a tagged door key with the address of the condo on it.
"They said they'd leave the check on the kitchen counter," I told her. "And you can tell Dottie Mahaffey that if she wants special cleaning like her pantry emptied and scrubbed, it's gonna be fifteen dollars extra. We're not running a charity here."
"Yeah, right," Neva Jean said, reaching for the horoscope page I'd been reading.
I snatched it out of her hands. "Neva Jean," I said, trying to sound stern. "I want that fifteen dollars extra in a check. You know, if you take tips from these people for extra work without reporting it, it's the same as stealing money right out of my purse."
Before
she could answer that, we heard honking in the driveway and a loud backfire.
Edna was back from the wholesale house.
We hurried outside to help her unload the van. By the time we finished, two more of the girls, Jackie and Ruby, had pulled up to the curb and were gathered in the kitchen. They all wanted to hear about Neva Jean's exciting escapade in Macon, and the trashy details of how she and Swanelle had made up again. It was almost noon before I had everybody's schedule straightened out and had delivered Neva Jean to the Mahaffeys. Her car was in the shop, as usual. I put up with a lot from Neva Jean, but the woman can not only clean, she can lift heavy furniture.
When I got back home and walked into the kitchen, Edna was just hanging up the phone.
"Oh, Jules, the lady from that nanny agency in Utah just called," she said. "Here's the number. She said she'd only be in for a few more minutes."
"Save me some time here," I said. "What else did she say? I know you asked her about Kristee."
Edna was shameless when it came to meddling. "She about popped a rivet when I told her one of her holier-than-thou Mormon girls was out here stealing people blind and sleeping with everything in pants."
"You didn't really tell her Kristee was screwing her employer, did you?"
"Hell's bells, why not? It's true isn't it?"
I reached for the phone. "Remind me not to fill you in on any more confidential client matters," I told her.
Myra Murphy, the owner of Nannies Unlimited, answered the phone on the first ring. "Oh, yes, Miss Garrity," she said. "Your mother has been making some accusations about a person named Ewbanks. I want you to know she is not one of our girls. None of our girls has ever been involved in anything sordid like this. And I'd appreciate your making it known to the family that hired her that most Mormon nannies are fine, upstanding, responsible employees."
"No, no, Mrs. Murphy," I said, interrupting her. "I'm afraid you misunderstood my mother. She certainly wasn't suggesting that Kristee Ewbanks was one of your girls. I'm only calling you to see what you know about the agency that placed her."
"Well, thank goodness for that," she said. "No, the name your mother mentioned, and this Ardith Cramer: I never heard of them. But I'll talk to my girls, and I'll call the other agencies around Salt Lake City and see what they know. Most of us started out working for the same agency seven or eight years ago, and we're very protective of our business. Our reputation is everything, as I'm sure you can understand."
"Of course," I said, trying to reassure her. "It would be wonderful if you could do some checking for me. I don't suppose the state of Utah has a regulatory agency that licenses nanny agencies, does it?"
The voice on the other end of the line lost its friendly tone. "Why, no," she said. "What would be the need of that? We're all Christian women here, trying to perform a service for upstanding families. I can assure you, we've never had any trouble of this kind from any of our girls."
"I'm sure," I said, trying not to let sarcasm creep into my voice. "It's just that I wondered how Ardith Cramer got into this business, and actually placed at least one girl, without any of you knowing anything about her."
"I wonder the same thing," Mrs. Murphy admitted. "Look, I've got to go out for a business appointment now, but I'll make some inquiries and call you back if I find out anything."
I thanked her and hung up. The phone rang again instantly.
"House Mouse."
The person on the other end exhaled slowly. "Good Lord, that's a silly-sounding name," she said. "What on earth possessed you to use it?"
"Actually, Lilah Rose, I bought the business with the name, and as our clients are used to it, I decided to hang on to it. Now, what can I do for you?"
"Have you found the slut yet?"
I looked at the kitchen clock. It runs twenty minutes fast, but Edna and I are the only ones who know that. It helps get the girls to their jobs on time.
"It hasn't been twenty-four hours yet," I pointed out. "Even Sam Spade takes longer than one day."
"Who?"
"Never mind. No, I haven't located Kristee yet. I was just on the phone to Utah before you called, trying to find out something about Nanny Finders and Ardith Cramer."
"Oh. That reminds me why I called," Lilah said. "I've got some information that might help. I looked through the telephone bills for the last couple of months, and there are some long distance numbers I don't recognize."
"Any with a Utah area code?"
"Well, no," Lilah said. "I thought that was odd, so I dug around until I found the number where we originally reached Nanny Finders. It had been disconnected, and the phone company wouldn't tell me when, or if they had a new number. It's funny, because Kristee distinctly told me she'd been in touch with Ardith Cramer. I think I once walked into her room when she was talking to her on the phone, come to think of it."
"Have you called the phone company to ask them about the long distance numbers you're not familiar with?"
"That's what we're paying you to do," she said. "Here, I'll read them to you."
She gave me the numbers and the dates they were called. One, with the area code of 803, I recognized as being in South Carolina. The other two numbers were from the 912 area, which could be anywhere in the southern half of Georgia.
"Have you thought of anything else that might help me find Kristee?"
"Yes," she said slowly, "I found a picture of her." Her voice wavered for a moment, and I almost thought she'd put down the phone. "I decided to look through Bo's dresser drawers. I found one, all right. It's of her, dressed in an orange thong bikini."
"Any idea where it was taken?"
"It's no place I recognize, but then, hopefully, Bo wouldn't have the balls to take her anywhere we'd be seen as a couple."
I thought about the sofa in her study, but I didn't volunteer anything.
"I'm looking at it right now," Lilah Rose said. "She's definitely sitting by a swimming pool; you can see a little bit of the water. It's probably a club or a hotel, because there are a lot of chairs and tables around. Oh, yes, and I'll bet it's in the south. You can see some pine trees and some azaleas in bloom."
"Very good, Lilah," I said, surprised at her observations. "I'll come over this afternoon and pick it up, if that's all right."
"Fine," Lilah said crisply. "Bo'll be home early, around five-thirty. Come a little earlier than that, and I'll give you the picture. Of course, I don't want him to know I've given it to you, so let's keep that between us. And another thing, Callahan. I hate to tell you this, but Bo is seriously thinking of calling in another private investigator. He told his attorney a little bit about what's going on here, and the attorney gave him the name of some man in Miami. Bo told me on the phone that he intends to call this man tomorrow unless you come up with something solid right away."
I managed not to swear until after I'd hung up the phone. I felt doomed. I had about four hours to come up with enough information to let the Beemishes know they were getting results for their money. I must have sat there in a funk for at least five minutes.
"All right," Edna said finally. "Tell me what the problem is with the Beemishes. They're bitching about your cleaning, aren't they."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Lilah didn't even mention the house. No, the problem is that son of a bitch Bo Beemish. He wants to call in somebody else, some guy from Miami. I've got until five-thirty today to come up with some kind of concrete information about Kristee Ewbanks."
For once, Edna was quiet. She screwed her eyes shut as she took a long drag on her cigarette and then exhaled noisily through her nostrils. The eyes popped open.
"Fuck 'em," she said, pushing a yellow legal pad across the table at me. "Look, I know you don't want me getting involved in this, but it strikes me that we could get some serious detecting work done with two of us working on the case. You just write down on the pad who you want called and what you want asked. We'll divide it in half. I'll make calls on the house phone while you use the company p
hone in here. We can dig up something, I'm sure."
She stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray at her elbow and reached over and patted my hand—a rare gesture. "Come on, Jules, this money is too good to give up without at least trying."
Edna didn't know just how much we really did need the money. We stood to lose at least $2,000, maybe even more, if I lost the case. Normally, I wouldn't have been so panicked, but lately we'd had a run of unexpected expenses. In addition to the van, I'd just finished paying withholding taxes for my employees, and there was a nagging medical thing I didn't want Edna knowing about. We'd sunk most of our savings into the House Mouse. We definitely needed the Beemishes' money.
"All right," I said, trying to sound reluctant. "But just phone calls, you understand? No stakeouts, no wiretapping, no interrogating witnesses. Nothing. You hear me?"
She cupped a hand to her ear and bent forward. "What's that, dearie? I can't hear a thing you're saying. I'm just a deaf old bag with arthritis and a daughter with a severe attitude problem."
9
BY THE TIME I GOT TO THE BEEMISHES, I was feeling fairly confident about my ability to retain the job. We'd gotten some impressive information in a fairly short amount of time. It didn't tell us where Kristee Ewbanks was, but it did give us an idea of how we might find her.
A black maid in a white uniform answered the Beemishes' door. She was in her twenties, very pretty, with long curving red fingernails. Her index fingernail on both hands was gold. Didn't look like she'd been doing any dust-busting.
She led me back to the study. The Beemishes were there already. Bo Beemish had draped his sport coat over the back of the desk chair and was sitting there scanning the stock pages of the Wall Street Journal. Lilah Rose had been talking to him in what sounded like a peeved voice, but she broke off when she saw me in the doorway. She had on one of those flowered-chintz Laura Ashley jumpsuits with the empire bustline and balloon legs. Her hair was pushed back with a matching headband. She looked about twelve.
Beemish put down the paper when I entered but didn't stand. Lilah motioned me to sit on the sofa beside her and asked the maid to get me a drink. I asked for Perrier, just to let them know I wasn't a total savage.
Every Crooked Nanny Page 5
