If I were the police, one lie would be enough to discredit Rosie completely. But I was her friend; I had to give her the benefit of the doubt in spite of the trashed locker room, the tiny mirror in David’s suite, and the failed alibi.
The concierge came back to his desk and I made one last stab at rescuing my faith in Rosie. “Is this brochure up-to-date?” I asked him.
Young enough to be Aaron’s twin, he scratched his stylishly bald head. “Yeah, pretty much. Something in particular you’re interested in?”
“What time does the fitness center close?”
“Midnight.”
A sigh escaped. “Thanks.”
“That do it for you?”
“I’m afraid so.”
I was in dire need of someone to talk to. That person had always been Ken’s younger sister Beverly, Skip’s mother. Now that she was “going steady” with a retired cop friend of Skip’s, I saw her less and hesitated to bother her.
“Nothing has to change,” she’d told me. “I’m always here for you.”
True theoretically, and I thought Beverly believed it, but in fact, much had changed. No more late-night tea klatches, no more last-minute taking care of Maddie. This weekend, for example, when she would have been an enormous help to me, she was in Seattle with Nick’s family.
What hadn’t changed was that we were a close family and wanted the best for each other. I had pangs of guilt over my selfish thoughts and was glad she wasn’t aware of them. I knew that if I really needed her and told her so straight out, Beverly would be at my side in a minute.
It was hard to ask for more.
The Duns Scotus brunch buffet was as lavish as any I’d ever seen outside of pictures of Victorian-era banquets. A beautiful table was spread with breads and fruit; at a separate station a chef made omelets to order; at another station one could be served slices from an enormous leg of lamb, roast pork, or a side (it seemed) of beef. As Ken would say at a feast like this, “Many a man would call it a meal.”
“Wow,” said Taylor and Maddie almost in unison as they saw the oversize éclairs. Taylor’s blond pixie cut was wet, as Maddie’s red curls were, from a quick after-swimming shower. The girls sent sprays of water drops onto their shoulders in their excitement.
The éclairs and other pastries could each feed a family of four. I made a note to leave room for a dessert or two and therefore skipped the carnivores’ table in favor of a mushroom-and-cheese omelet. Calorie for calorie, there probably wasn’t a lot of difference.
“Isn’t it funny?” Taylor asked Maddie. “Your grandma and my grandpa only live a few blocks away from each other in Lincoln Point, but we’re all hanging out in San Francisco.”
The thought had crossed my mind, too.
“Why did the witch need a computer?” Maddie asked, out of context.
“You’ll have to tell us, “ Henry said.
Taylor and Maddie burst out laughing.
“We planned it,” Taylor said. “We’re not going to tell you the answer until next week.”
“When we have lunch together in Lincoln Point,” Maddie said.
Henry and I glanced at each other across the table, both seeming to catch on to the ploy—the two girls plotting to get together. I worried about Maddie’s becoming too attached to Taylor when she had just a few weeks before she’d be leaving Lincoln Point. Would this be another wrenching separation, like when she had to leave Devyn and her other friends in Los Angeles?
It was only ten miles to Maddie’s home in Palo Alto, I reminded myself. We could have playdates. Not the same as being in the same school and joining clubs and teams together, but we’d make it work.
There were many fewer reunion people here than at the banquet. I imagined many had been anxious to get home and get ready for the workweek. A couple of students we hadn’t seen yet came over to chat, but otherwise there were no new incidents. No one fighting, no one jumping out of bushes. Still, I kept my everyday shoulder purse on my lap instead of hanging it from the back of the chair as I usually would.
“It’s a real shame about David. I keep thinking about him,” Henry said, during one of the girls’ trips to look at the dessert table. “And poor Rosie, caught up in it all.”
“What have you heard about Rosie?” I said, jumping past sympathy to detective mode.
“I called my daughter, Taylor’s mother, this morning to give her our timetable and apparently it’s all anyone’s talking about in Lincoln Point. Way more than yesterday. She says she heard that the police want to talk to Rosie and she’s nowhere to be found.”
“I don’t think for a minute that she’s guilty,” I said, skipping over the part that I knew where to find her.
“I’m sure you’re right. I used to do business with her father, Larry Esterman, when he had his own place in town. At the time, all of us trades teachers used to get together and pool resources and network with the Lincoln Point tradesmen. Larry was always ready to take on a promising student as an intern and I placed a lot of kids with him. Most honest guy around.”
My experience complemented Henry’s. I’d had many dealings with Larry during Rosie’s high school years. He was as dedicated a single parent as I’d ever met. I now saw him occasionally in the bookshop, though we never had extended conversations.
“I don’t remember exactly what business Larry was in,” I told Henry. “He’s retired now, isn’t he?”
“Refrigeration,” Henry said.
I gulped. “Refrigeration?”
“Uh-huh, good-size company, too. But he retired and now he works off and on for Callahan and Savage.”
“You don’t say.”
For a minute I reverted to Maddie-land and wondered, how many refrigerators does it take to cool a town?
Back in our room, packing to leave, I had a brainstorm. With Maddie distracted by last-minute computer work (a drag-and-drop interface, she called it), I went into the bathroom. I pulled all of the tissues from the box on the sink and unrolled a long strip of toilet paper. Together they made a wad I hoped was big enough to stop a toilet. Then I threw the wad into the bowl and flushed.
I was surprised that I got it on one try. The water rose to the rim and stayed there.
Oops. Time to call a plumber.
“We’re about to check out,” I told the woman who took my call. “But we still need to . . . you know.”
“Oh, of course. I’ll send someone right up.”
When the knock came less than five minutes later (something for the plus column on the Duns Scotus evaluation card), Maddie went to answer it. She knew enough to ask who it was and check for my approval first.
“He says he’s a plumber,” she called back.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I forgot to tell you the toilet is plugged up.”
Maddie opened the door. I was relieved to see that Mike the electrician didn’t double as a plumber. Rather, a gentle-looking Enrico introduced himself and entered the room with a large toolbox.
“Thanks for coming,” I said. “This just happened a few minutes ago.” I left out, “by my own hand.”
Enrico looked at the mess and produced an industrial-size plunger and a gallon of something apparently toxic enough to require a skull and crossbones on its container.
I suspected it wasn’t often that Enrico’s clients stood over his shoulder while he worked. “Such a shame, losing your boss yesterday,” I said. The concerned guest.
“Yes, yes, it’s a shame, very sad. A young man, Mr. Bridges.”
“I’m surprised at your quick response to my little problem this morning, since I also heard that someone quit yesterday?”
“Yes, yes, Ben, he walk out with no notice.”
“Was he a plumber, too?”
“No, Ben was what you call a supervisor.”
I laughed. “I’ll bet he didn’t work as hard as you do.”
I tried not to pay too much attention to the details of Enrico’s recovery program at our toilet, but I noticed that he never turned to me, nor d
id he lose his work rhythm as he talked.
“I wonder if Ben and Mr. Bridges got along. I guess that’s not unusual, though. For a boss and an employee to have disagreements.” No comment from Enrico. “You’re such a good worker, I’ll bet you get along with everyone.”
“I mind my business, you know? But Ben, he’s what you call ambitious.”
“Ah,” I said, with a small tsking sound. “And Mr. Bridges didn’t like that?”
“I mind my business,” Enrico said again. “All done here.” I had the feeling he was referring to more than the plumbing.
Thwarted.
It made sense that the electricians and plumbers of the Duns Scotus wouldn’t share company politics with guests. Too bad for me they all took their training to heart.
Enrico stood up and did a test flush. All went smoothly. Next time I’d have to create a bigger problem. All I’d gotten from this little exercise was news of Ben Dobson’s ambitious streak and his position as supervisor.
Enrico packed up his tools and glanced back at Maddie, still deep in the computer zone. “Gotta watch these kids, huh?”
I smiled and threw up my hands. “What are you going to do?”
I didn’t tell Maddie she’d been blamed for a problem she knew nothing about.
“You didn’t get to see my apartment building that Grandpa made me when you were in the shop last time, Mrs. Porter. You should come by and see it.”
That was Taylor, trying to prolong her departure from Maddie as we piled our two cars with duffels and garment bags.
I couldn’t believe we’d spent the better part of a weekend in San Francisco without seeing any of the sights outside the hotel. No Golden Gate Park, no Coit Tower, no Ghirardelli sundae, no ferry to the redwoods of Marin. Not even a cable car ride to the bay. Checking into things here and there, though not all that productive, had eaten up all the time I’d had in between reunion events. Not to mention having my personal space violated a couple of times.
I needed a new hobby.
Maddie took a turn at securing the four-way friendship. “My grandma has lots of crafts rooms, Mr. Baker. You should see the furniture she has.”
“We get it,” I said.
“And we like it,” Henry added.
I felt a twinge of pleasure. Because Henry might be able to help me figure out connections between Mellace Construction and the Callahan and Savage refrigeration business.
That was the only reason.
Chapter 10
We left the San Francisco skyline and the clanging cable cars behind and drove home to Lincoln Point, Maddie now happily old enough and heavy enough to sit in the front passenger seat and not relegated to the second-class, as she thought of it, backseat. My pangs of guilt intensified as the wharf and Ferry Building, along with Ghirardelli’s earthquake sundae receded. I resolved to take Maddie back for a fun-only weekend.
“I’m ready for an update,” Maddie said, her posture erect, eyes straight ahead.
“What’s that, sweetheart?” As if I hadn’t heard her.
She twisted to face me. “C’mon, Grandma. Do you think I don’t know why I was dropped in the water so many times?”
“You make it sound brutal. Like child abuse. I thought you liked the hotel pool. Wasn’t Taylor with you a lot of the time?”
“Yeah. But she’s a little young and I didn’t want to talk to her too much about the case.”
“Isn’t she the same age as you?”
Maddie grinned. “I’m four months older. I did most of the case stuff on my own.”
My granddaughter made a criminal investigation sound like child’s play, like making miniature furniture or wallpapering dollhouse rooms. “What kind of case stuff did you do?” I asked her, gritting my teeth. Images of her parents scolding me loomed before me.
“The Lincolnite is lame,” Maddie said, referring to our once-weekly newspaper. “They don’t even have their own website. They’re just online with a whole lot of other small newspapers so you only get a summary, not full stories, and you don’t get to see any archives. But I read a little about the case. I know the man’s body was found in the woods out past the high school, and he was beaten.”
I didn’t like hearing crime scene words from my granddaughter. I felt irresponsible that I didn’t monitor her computer use more carefully. Or at all. That I didn’t know a lot about how to do that was no excuse. Standing over her shoulder, instead of wandering around as if I had a PI license, would work.
“What else?” I prodded. At least I could find out after the fact what she already knew before being pressured to dole out bits of information of my own.
“Mostly, I worked on the computer while you were out snooping at night.”
“I was in the ballroom, dancing.”
Maddie coughed, pretending to be choking on that tidbit. “And drinking at the bar, too, right?”
We were in stop-and-go traffic on the 101, giving me a second to glance over at her. “You got me.”
“I found out all kinds of things about Callahan and Savage. The stories were in the big newspapers so you could actually read the articles online.”
I’d planned to search through Google again for more information on Callahan and Savage, and to talk to Henry about them, but as expected, those who were born into the electronic age worked much more quickly.
There were worse sites that Maddie could have been browsing, I guessed, than the San Francisco and greater Bay Area newspapers. If Richard or Mary Lou looked back on Maddie’s history, I hoped it wouldn’t be obvious that their daughter had been searching for information on a murder case. I imagined having my grandparent visiting rights revoked until Maddie turned thirty.
“Did you find anything interesting?” I asked.
“Lots. Like, did you know that construction companies compete with each other for contracts to do buildings and stuff? I found a list of the contests, which ones they won and lost and who beat them.”
I couldn’t imagine more interesting reading outside of a Great Books class. “Did you save the information?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a vigorous nod. “I’m going to give it to Uncle Skip when he takes me on the tour of the police department after we get home.”
I checked to see if Maddie, the great negotiator, had her teasing grin on. Sort of.
“I’d like to see the list,” I said. “And I’m the one who’s going to get you home in the first place.” I could negotiate, too.
“And?”
“And get us pizza for dinner.”
“And?”
I wondered who taught her these skills.
“And if you cooperate, I won’t send you back to Palo Alto early before computer camp is over.”
“Technology camp. Okay, I’ll show you. I was going to anyway.”
I knew that.
I was still waffling about whether to talk to Linda and take a look at the Callahan and Savage data before seeing Skip. I came close to letting Maddie extract a promise to take her with me so that she could have her tour of the police station, but I was saved by a phone call.
“I’m home,” Beverly said. “We took a really early flight this morning. I’m exhausted, so I’m just sitting here getting reentered.” I pictured her with her long legs stretched out on the lounge chair by her pool, a glass of ice tea in her hand, a luxury she allowed herself only after a string of stressful days.
“How did everything go?” A silly question when asked of funeral services, but somehow obligatory.
“It went as well as it could have. You know, everyone was sad. Old Saint Nick, that’s what they called Nick’s grandfather, was ninety-seven years old.”
“That’s a lot of life to celebrate.”
Beverly and I knew each other so well that we were able to cover a lot of ground in a few minutes, from the family gathering in Seattle to the tragic death of David Bridges in Lincoln Point.
“Nick, my Nick, that is, was so glad I was with him, Gerry, but I’m sor
ry I couldn’t be here to take Maddie, especially after what happened.”
“You can make it up to me right away,” I said.
“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” I asked Maddie once she’d had a snack. I was too full from brunch to think about another bite, but Maddie had apparently worked off her three desserts in the car on the way home. “Too bad the air conditioner isn’t working.”
“I’m going to Aunt Beverly’s pool, aren’t I?”
Such a bright child.
Only time with her Aunt Beverly could bring on such good spirits from Maddie when she knew she was being left out of the loop on an interesting project. (I hesitated to say “case” lest it seem, even to myself, that I was doing unsolicited police work.)
Once Beverly and Maddie went off together, I called Linda.
“Rosie’s still here,” she said. I could almost see her wringing the starched collar of her white uniform or twisting the ends of her hair. That seemed to me the only purpose of the long, stiff coils she arranged below the beehive on top of her head. “It’s pretty tense, Gerry.”
“I’m coming over,” I said.
I couldn’t take the chance that Rosie would go somewhere out of reach. Or that Linda would have a crisis of conscience and—dare I say it?—do the right thing and turn Rosie in before I got to talk to them.
I changed into hot-weather clothing and drove the short distance north of my neighborhood to the Mary Todd Home. I was very familiar with the residence facility, having taught seniors crafts classes there since it opened a few years ago.
I entered the ornate front lobby (too rococo for Lincoln Point, was architect Ken’s judgment), greeted Olara and Tim at the front desk, and asked for Linda. I knew where the guest wing was, where relatives of residents could stay for short periods, but preferred not to attract attention by walking back there myself.
Linda came to greet me in the lobby. With her level of nervousness over these relatively low-stakes circumstances (no global nuclear implications, that is), she’d never graduate from spy school.
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