I signed all the petitions to Congress to correct the situation, and donated money for the project, but I didn’t want to go off on that tangent right now. I decided I wanted to brain-storm with her, after all. I read out my checklist.
“That is curious, especially about the van driver,” she said. “I’ll keep my ears open at the station.”
That’s what I hoped.
I had one more thing to run by Beverly before she left. I helped her on with her jacket. “I’m a little worried about Richard,” I said.
“What for?”
I told her about the Stanford Medical Center envelope.
She waved her hands. “He’s a doctor, Gerry, and that’s what they have at Stanford. Doctors. I’m sure he’d tell you if there was anything wrong. You worry too much about people.”
I took that to refer to both Richard and her, that I worried too much about their health.
Again, that’s what I hoped.
Chapter 12
Maddie was in rare form on Saturday, and not a good rare. A pouty why-do-we-have-to-go-to-a-ball rare.
“You’ll love it,” I told her at breakfast. “Uncle Skip has all our tickets already. The police department is one of the sponsors. Imagine how disappointed he’d be if we didn’t show up. And you have that great drummer boy costume.”
My granddaughter held her spoon like a grinding tool and stirred her oatmeal with unnecessary force. She picked out a raisin and put it on her place mat, squishing it with her thumb as if it were a bug. Correction: she’d never squish a bug. She’d be more likely to put it in a jar and on a shelf in her room. “It’s going to be boring.”
“I thought you liked raisins.”
“You’re changing the subject. My dad does that, too. The ball is going to be boring.”
“Have you ever been to a ball?”
She frowned and licked a drop of juice from her upper lip.
“No, I didn’t think so. Let me tell you what fun it is. I know for a fact that the postmaster—Mr. Cooney, remember?—is going to perform with his puppets. He’ll be showing Punch and Judy. And there’ll be games and prizes and presents for kids throughout the evening. I wouldn’t take you to a boring party.”
“How long will it be?”
I laughed. “I guess you’re not impressed.”
Linda arrived on the dot at ten o’clock. She had already submitted her Victorian bedroom to the ball’s silent auction committee, but she’d put together an extra room box in case there was an empty spot. She carried it in to show me, Jason trailing behind her.
“Christmas dinner,” she said, clearly proud of her creation. And rightly so. Linda had prepared a sumptuous miniature meal for twelve. A lavish six-inch cherrywood table was set with the crafters’ clay equivalent of fine china, wine-glasses, and an elaborate centerpiece of candles and holly. The tiny standing rib of beef seemed to send out a rich aroma, especially when combined with the Yorkshire pudding, oysters, and mincemeat and cranberry pies.
“It’s beautiful, Linda.”
“It took me many, many hours.” She set it down on my atrium table and gave it an affectionate glance.
I turned to find Maddie, who I knew would like the scene, especially the tiny Santa Claus figures at each place. She and Jason were deep into conversation by the jade plant.
“I went last year,” Jason was saying as I tuned in. “It’s not so bad.”
“Is there really stuff for kids?”
I sighed. What happened to the little girl who believed everything her grandmother told her?
“Yeah, they make up a little band, where every kid gets to play an instrument, like the fifes and whistles and this weird thing called a jaw harp.”
Maddie’s face softened. “I’m going as the Llittle Drummer Boy.”
“Cool.” Jason emptied his backpack of books. I hoped he noticed the adoring look from Maddie. I was sure he didn’t get many of those looks in his life, unless it was from his mother. “Oh, yeah, and every kid gets a toy that was popular in the, you know, past. But some of them are still around. Like pickup sticks, except they called it jackstraws or something. And marbles, except they’re, like, little stones.”
“Can we play right there at the ball?”
“Uh-huh. There’s a lot of space in the new community center, so it will be even better this year. They already contacted us older kids. We’re going to have little groups and”—Jason threw his shoulders back—“we’re in charge of the games.”
“Maybe I could be in your group.”
“Sure,” Jason said. “Cool.”
Linda, who had joined me in eavesdropping, poked me in the arm and gave me a big smile. “He didn’t tell me he was in charge of anything. I thought he was dreading the ball. He said he’d only go if I took him for driving lessons.”
“I guess he’s as good a negotiator as Maddie.”
I was happy that Maddie now looked forward to the ball, but even more thrilled for Jason, who had grown up with few admirers. He’d had more than his share of people who considered him a nuisance and were only too anxious to blame him for all mischievous deeds within his reach whether he committed them or not. Now some enlightened people on the Mary Todd Ball committee had the foresight and the confidence in kids like Jason to entrust them with jobs. Responsibility instead of detention. I liked it. I’d never seen Jason in this role of kindly big brother, and it warmed my heart.
I carried my Victorian living room out to Linda’s car. She’d offered to deliver it to the community center for me, since I’d be busy with Jason. The tiny crystal beads on my lampshade danced on their nearly invisible strings and caught the sunlight beautifully. I allowed myself a moment of pride. All the rooms were for sale at the ball’s silent auction, including the boxes displayed in the downtown windows. I hated to let this one go, and considered bidding on it, but under an assumed name.
“Jason has been doing so well lately, Gerry. I’m almost afraid to be relieved, you know? But maybe that awful phase has passed. Now if we can just get his English grade up . . .”
I caught the “we” and realized I had to make it work with Jason and me.
I hated to tear Jason away from a groupie (he and Maddie were comparing soccer stats) and was glad that Beverly did it for me. She arrived to take Maddie for an excursion to pick up her drummer boy costume at the dress shop. Lori Leigh had offered to make some alterations—it seemed the outfit in stock was not made for a skinny ten-year-old girl.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been alone with Jason except for the occasional quick pickup from school if Linda was tied up. He was really a thoughtful boy (I considered taking his empty soda can to my recycle box thoughtful) with a lot of potential. I chided myself for not giving Linda more credit for sticking by him when he got himself into trouble.
Jason took his latest English paper out of his backpack and, with a sheepish look, handed it to me: “Themes in Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men,” for which he’d received a capital F, written in red and circled. Then he made himself comfortable in front of the television set and flipped channels while I read through it. I thought about what grade I would have given him. Probably the same. But I liked to think I’d have been clearer about the assignment so that an F would not have been necessary.
I could see the problem Jason’s teacher had—the paper was a summary of the story rather than an analysis of themes. A typical misunderstanding on the part of high school students. My idea was to show Jason how this paper might have gotten a better grade and explain how he could use my outline as a guide for his next paper.
“English teachers love it when you tie things together,” I told him, pointing to a list of themes the teacher had provided: friendship, loneliness, control, and a string of others. “Can you connect the theme of control to the title of the novel, for example?”
It took a couple of tries, but Jason got it. “Even when you plan ahead, sometimes things go wrong,” he said. “Like, how Lennie killed Curley’s wife is how the man destr
oyed the mouse’s home. They didn’t mean to do it.” Jason smiled. “We had to read the poem, too.”
“Excellent,” I said and drew an A in the margin of his notebook.
By the time we finished discussing how “the best laid schemes of mice and men” applied to Steinbeck’s characters—neither Lennie, nor George, nor Curley, nor anyone else in the novel was able to fulfill his dream—Jason had the broadest smile I’d ever seen on his face. It wasn’t just teachers who liked connections, but the human spirit in general.
“What do you think?” I asked him. “Does it make sense?”
He nodded. “It’s cool.”
High praise, I thought.
I felt I’d done my part and thought it wouldn’t be too manipulative of me to try to get something out of Jason. I set out another soda and a bowl of grapes (he’d finished a plate of cookies) and sat across from him with a cup of coffee. I glanced at Jason’s watch, almost large enough to see across the room if I had to. Eleven o’clock. Linda was due any minute. I had to work quickly.
“How’s your part-time job going?” I asked him.
“Okay.”
“What do you do at the video arcade?”
“Just stuff.”
“Do you clean up?”
“Sometimes.”
“You work with Gus Boudette, right?”
“Yeah.”
“What does he do?”
“He works the register and fixes the machines. Sometimes he lets me help.”
Jason had begun nibbling on grapes. I felt it was more to keep busy and avoid my eyes than that he was hungry or a big fruit fan. Maybe this was why he was so chubby. His reticence wasn’t helping my cause. I needed free-flowing conversation to provide a good segue for me. I thought of the ladies of my Mary Todd crafts class and went for a non sequitur instead.
“Does the Video Jeff’s arcade have a van?” I asked.
“Huh?”
“Do they have a minivan or some other kind of van that the store uses? Maybe to transport the machines?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Aha. “What does it look like?” By now, Jason was squinting, giving me a funny look, as well he should. “I’m interested because I thought I saw one of my former students driving it and I wanted to get in touch with him.”
Jason relaxed his gaze. “Oh. Well, it’s kind of big and dark blue and it has this cartoon picture of a guy with a joystick sitting in front of an old-fashioned computer. It’s very retro.”
“Hmmm. That doesn’t sound like the van I saw. I guess I made a mistake.”
Linda was back shortly after eleven, hardly through the front door before asking how her son fared in the session.
“He’s very smart, Linda.” Always the best way to start, though this time it was true. “We made a date for next week after school. I think he’ll do much better on the next paper.”
She gave me a quick hug, which was major for her, and addressed Jason. “Did you say ‘thank you’ to Mrs. Porter?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Your bike is in the trunk, in case you want to ride it home. I have a hair and nails appointment at noon.”
Jason hiked up his pants and took off, as if “hair and nails” were equivalent to “hairshirt and spikes.”
“I have some news, Gerry,” Linda said, taking a seat. “After I dropped your living room off at the community center, I stopped in at the Mary Todd to pick up a bag of crafts supplies that I left in the lounge. So I had a cup of coffee with Marlene and the girls. They’re all talking about the Munizes, of course. Sofia is being kept in a special room in the care center.”
“The blood results aren’t back yet?”
“Nope. But you can tell they’re pretty sure it’s going to be a match because there’s a guard at the door to the room. A young cop. Dolores is furious about the security, but she ought to be glad her grandmother isn’t in jail.”
“How is Sofia?”
“The old lady seems to be slipping rapidly. I’ve seen this before. Someone seems fine, maybe a little on the edge, and then an incident like this happens—well, not murder necessarily, but one time a woman’s son died, and she just let go and was never fully coherent again.”
“Do you think I could speak to her?”
“You’d have to get by Dolores, which is harder than getting by the guard. She finagled some way to keep everyone away. You have to be on a list. She’s afraid of reporters getting a whiff of this though it’s obviously under her control at this point.”
“What about Gus?”
“The van driver with the earring?”
I nodded. “Does he work on weekends?”
“He’s supposed to, but he didn’t come in today.”
Though Linda moved on to other topics—color details of her upcoming hair and nails appointment, speculation about the food at the (life-size, not miniature) banquet, and another round of gratitude to me for taking on Jason’s future as a literature scholar—my mind was at the Mary Todd.
It was time for me to visit Sofia Muniz, my crafts student and the woman I’d spent a good amount of time looking for.
Chapter 13
I walked with confidence to the reception desk at the Mary Todd and signed in to visit Sandy Sechrest. Half true. It was my intention to visit Sofia Muniz, also, but I didn’t think it was necessary to include that small detail.
My tote was overflowing with flowers and candy for Sofia and Sandy. I decided to start with Sofia, in case Linda’s assessment of her rapid decline was accurate. I took the elevator to the third floor of the care-center wing and followed the path we’d taken on Thursday, passing only an orderly with what looked like a medicine wagon—rows of paper cups with various colored pills.
I didn’t know the number of the room to which Sofia had been moved, but I figured there would be only one with a guard.
Sure enough, as I rounded a corner to a part of the floor we hadn’t covered the other day, I saw a young woman in an LPPD uniform.
As I approached she stood and cleared her throat.
“This is a secured area,” she said, her hand slipping down to a baton hanging from her belt. Out of habit and training, or to compensate for her childlike, high-pitched voice, I assumed, and not because my new Irish knit coat sweater gave me a threatening look. I was prepared for security, and had rehearsed lines about being the aunt, practically a second mother, to LPPD Detective Skip Gowen.
Before I could embarrass myself that way, Dolores came out of the room. Not surprising that she’d be here on a Saturday.
“It’s okay, Jen,” she said to the officer.
“I have flowers for your grandmother,” I said, reaching for one of the nosegays in my tote.
Dolores folded her arms across her chest. In casual slacks and a loose sweater, she was no less an imposing figure than in her city hall suits. I imagined Sofia with that kind of strength and comportment in her youth, even as I snuck a look at her, aged and limp, in her V-shaped hospital bed.
“I’m sure you’re here for more than a flower delivery. Were you actually going to interrogate my grandmother in this state?”
Jen had moved aside, and returned to her newspaper, probably wishing she had a modicum of Dolores’s commanding presence to go with the equipment on her belt.
“I want to talk to you, not only your grandmother, Dolores. After all, you did bring me into this situation, and I think I have a right to some answers.” I wasn’t sure how forceful this sounded given the bouquet of pink and lavender flowers in my hand, but Dolores responded with a resigned sigh.
“Let’s go out here,” she said, motioning me to a bench in the hallway.
“You told me you talked to your grandmother on Wednesday night, and not after that. But I have reason to believe you saw her on Thursday morning.” She didn’t have to know the reason was attached to the mutterings of Emma and Lizzie, two residents who couldn’t keep our class schedule straight (and whom I couldn’t keep straight). “Did you see your grandmot
her in the garden on the morning she disappeared?”
Dolores looked defeated. She moved her lips in a tense fashion that told me she was weighing her answer carefully. I locked onto her face and looked straight into her eyes—a technique that always worked with Richard, fully aware that I was taking advantage of her vulnerable state. She probably had not had much sleep the last couple of nights.
“Yes, I was with my grandmother, but not in the morning,” she blurted out. “Well, after midnight on Wednesday, so technically, yes, it was morning.”
“Why on earth didn’t you tell me? Or the hospital? Anyone? It would have made some difference to know that Sofia was alive and well and in her home well into the night.”
“I thought they wouldn’t look for her if they thought I’d just seen her a few hours before. It’s only because they thought no one had talked to her since after dinner the night before that they even considered sending that van. You know that’s true, Geraldine. They would have said she’s wandering the corridors visiting friends.”
“Didn’t you have to sign in at the desk?”
“There are ways into the garden that the general public doesn’t know about.”
“Why did you come at that hour?”
“I heard she was acting up. I’d already been told by the staff that they wanted me to consider moving her back to my house. I needed to calm her down.”
“I heard you were arguing, not calming her down.” Dolores bit her lip. “I refuse to dignify that with an answer.” You already did, I thought. A long sigh from Dolores, then, “Not that it’s any of your business, Geraldine, but I’d take my grandmother home in a minute if I thought I could take care of her.”
“I believe that, Dolores.” I considered letting up on her, but instead kept at it. “You said she was allegedly acting up. How?”
“Just wanting to get away from the Mary Todd. She said there were bad people here and she needed to escape.” Dolores looked up into a corner of the hallway and frowned, as if the specter of evil lurked there.
Instead we saw the orderly with the medicine wagon (my term), who had caught up with me and stopped outside Sofia’s door. He checked a chart with a photo at the top. Dolores explained.
Mayhem in Miniature Page 12
