by Marc Jedel
The wannabe lost his enthusiasm, but, still eager to show his professionalism to a potential colleague, he finished his report to the officer. “They paused outside your door for a little while before going into Mr. Samerson’s office. They didn’t have enough time in the office to touch anything. They must have hurried straight to the bathroom and shut the door.”
“My bathroom?” Samerson’s face twisted in disgust as he imagined what we might have done in there.
I didn’t like whatever he must have been thinking, so I blurted out, “She’s my cousin—” I broke off when Samerson recoiled again as he looked at me.
“Hey! You’re that … Aren’t you that engineer? The one from Rover, right?” So busy trying to protect whatever secrets were hidden in his office, he hadn’t registered my face until now.
I kicked myself. If I hadn’t spoken, he might never have realized I was about to become a Sirius employee he could fire. With an unhappy frown, I gave him a curt nod. Yes, that engineer. The not-so-bright one.
As Samerson realized his security goons had tailed us closely and we hadn’t taken anything from his office, his face formed an unpleasant facsimile of a smile. “Officer. He’s basically an employee here, so there’s no crime involved. We can handle things internally—as a personnel matter. There’s no need to press charges.” He attempted a more pleasant expression as he reached out to shake the officer’s hand and dismiss her. He no longer needed her services.
The officer, however, didn’t work for Doug Samerson. She took his hand, then pushed him out the door. “Thank you for your assistance. We’ll let you get on with your very important meetings and finish up in here on our own.”
Without saying a word, her partner maneuvered the two security guards out the door right behind Samerson, then leaned on the closed door to keep them out. Mace needed to take notes—this was how partners should work together.
The female officer turned back to Samantha and me, still sitting in our chairs. “So, what were you doing in his office?” Although her tone was still calm, the intensity had returned.
I settled on the truth and, almost, the whole truth. “I wanted to show my cousin the gold bathroom in Samerson’s office.” True, if incomplete.
“Gold bathroom?” The officer sounded confused. This was an office building, not some palace. Looking around this glass-walled conference room and the typical office hallway outside didn’t alert one to the existence of a private gold bathroom.
Despite myself, I got excited. “Yes. It looks real. I mean, maybe it’s just gold leaf, but still, that’s crazy. Even the toilet is gold. And the toilet paper holder.”
Before Samantha could speak, the officer leaned in closer to me. “You do realize this wasn’t okay, don’t you?” She looked hard at me, trying to discern whether I was certifiable or just an idiot.
I chose idiot and gulped. “Yes. I mean no. I mean I know it wasn’t okay.” I ran out of steam. To go any further would mean talking about Isabella and Larry and my theories about the conspiracy to kill them. Coming up with those theories was fun, but I didn’t want to go to jail for them. Or the insane asylum. I admitted to stupid, not insane.
Samantha tried to help. “Officer, it was my fault. I’ve been teasing him since I got to town and he wanted to show me the gold bathroom …” Then, she stopped too, clearly not sure where to go next.
“Well …” The officer dragged out the word, trying to figure out what to do with us. It was evident she’d assessed our threat level and concluded we were harmless fools. On the other hand, the police had been called to handle a possible burglary, so she didn’t seem willing to let us walk away with no consequences.
Before she could select an outcome we wouldn’t like, I took a stab to see if I could help resolve this in our favor. “Officer, I’ve been consulting with Sergeant Mace Jackson on a case that may be related to Sirius.”
She looked at her partner and smirked. “Is that so?” Her partner snorted from his post blockading the door.
No guts, no glory, right? Even though she didn’t respond as I’d hoped, I doubled down on this approach. “Yes. We, uh, worked together to solve a murder last month.” At least I managed to avoid using the “partner” term that Mace insisted I never use again.
“Well, let’s just check out this little story, shall we?” She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number.
From five feet away, I could hear Mace’s response to her question clear as day. “He said what?” He must have lowered his voice after that, because I couldn’t make out any more of their conversation.
Her smirk now turned into a bemused smile as she hung up with Mace and looked at us. “Sergeant Jackson has requested the pleasure of your presence. He wants us to bring you in.” She jerked her head to the door. “Right now. Let’s get going.”
My worst fear was coming true. Jail.
She kept up the rear guard. She might not consider us dangerous, but she wasn’t going to let us out of her sight.
Our unusual procession made its way down the hallway past all those staring eyes, crowded in for an awkward elevator ride, piled out into the lobby, then loaded into a black and white squad car. The officer wasn’t interested in our request to follow them in Samantha’s car, so we sat in their cruiser’s uncomfortable plastic back seat.
Beside doors with no handles.
I was going to jail.
My phone buzzed—Meghan calling to chat before she flew home from her business trip. I hated not to answer, since we were in a new relationship and all, but I let it go to voicemail. I needed more time to come up with a good story to explain what had happened to us this afternoon. I’d see her tomorrow morning, and then at Laney’s house, where we were supposed to help out with trick-or-treat duty. If I wasn’t in jail.
*****
I spent the ride staring at the metal sheeting that shielded the officers’ seats from their backseat “guests.” We could barely see them through the super-thick shatterproof plastic separating the front from the back. The windows were barred and covered with wire mesh … a preview of my future living arrangements?
With my one call from the police station, who should it be? My kids were on the East Coast and still in college, so not my best options. Laney might decide to bail out Samantha and leave her brother in the clink overnight. That left Meghan, but she wouldn’t land at SFO for hours. Brooding over my fate and poor options for rescue, I sat absorbed in my own world.
My phone’s buzzing startled me. Raj had sent me a text. Raj, my buddy! Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of dependable old Raj to bail me out? I started to tap out a response when the car pulled to a stop and the engine turned off.
My heart raced. I wasn’t ready to face this. I took a deep breath and looked up to greet my destiny.
Starbucks.
Instead of the police station, we’d stopped at the same Starbucks where I always met Mace. Perhaps with all the cutbacks, he no longer had an office at the San Jose Police station? Maybe the Starbucks kitchen had a secret entrance to the county jail. Would Brody bring us our meals?
I stilled my overactive imagination as the officers opened the doors and escorted us inside to Mace’s table in the corner. This was it. The next few minutes could determine whether I slept behind bars tonight or in my own comfortable bed. I hugged myself to keep my shaking from showing.
“Sergeant. Here they are,” said the female officer, standing erect yet not quite saluting Mace.
He rubbed his chin as he examined Samantha and me. “Thank you. You can leave them with me. I’ll take it from here.” Mace dismissed the officers, who left without saying goodbye. He scowled at us, not speaking or moving for a few moments.
Brody bustled out of the kitchen, saw us, and gave us an enthusiastic welcome. “Hey there. Want your usual, John?”
Mace answered for me with a brusque shake of his head. Brody gave me a confused look but easily shifted his sunny smile to his next customer, calling out a greeting to him. Sure, he
could smile, he wasn’t on his way to the Big House. Through my fear, I felt a pang of disappointment that I wouldn’t get my last triple venti half sweet non-fat extra-hot caramel macchiato. Even condemned men got to choose their last meal. Despite years of not drinking coffee in favor of tea, I’d developed a taste for this unusual brew after some confusion at the Starbucks pickup counter last month.
“Sit,” Mace commanded. His gruff, angry tone resembled his typical rumble, but I knew the difference.
We sat.
Mace surprised me with his first question. “You still haven’t told Brody your real name?”
I stammered, “I-I did—”
He interrupted, “Never mind. I don’t want to hear it.” Looking back and forth to both of us, he asked, “What on earth were you thinking?”
Well, I didn’t think we’d get caught.
While I was busy not saying aloud what I was thinking, Samantha answered, “We wanted to see who killed Izzy.”
Mace blurted out, “Killed? Who’s Izzy?”
Despite my fear of what lay in front of us, I jumped in. “Isabella worked at Sirius Innovation. She was the executive assistant to the CEO.” I clenched my fists. “That’s the same place where Larry worked.”
“I’m sure a lot of people work there.” He squinted at me. “You’re not the police. You’ve got to stop this.”
“But look at this—her notebook shows she knew Larry.” Samantha pulled out Isabella’s notebook from her purse and showed it to Mace.
He didn’t look at it. Instead, he stared at Samantha. His voice grew dangerously quiet. “Where’d you get that?”
She pulled it back. In a quiet voice of her own, she admitted, “From Izzy’s office.”
His eyes never leaving hers, he shook his head again. With clipped precision, as if explaining to a child, he said, “You are not the police. You cannot sneak into places and search them. Or steal things. These pretend investigations have to stop. Or we’ll have to stop you more permanently. Now, what were you doing there?”
My chest froze. Was he threatening us?
Mace spoke into the silence. “We could move this to the precinct, if you’d prefer.”
I took a shuddering breath as I realized his definition of “permanently stopping” us had meant jail, not death.
The oxygen coursing back through my blood gave me courage. He had to listen to me. We’d solved that case together last month. In fact, I’d come up with my brilliant plan right here in this Starbucks. It hadn’t gone quite to plan, yet it wound up working in the end. And all’s well that ends well. “Look, first Larry’s death is suspicious, and then so is Isabella’s. Larry was working on a project with the chief of staff, and his office is right next to Isabella’s cube. And she wrote in her notebook that she planned to see Larry soon.”
Mace’s forehead crinkled in concentration.
I was convincing him. He was listening.
“Give me that notebook.”
I had done it. We were partners again. Now Mace could bring the awesome power of the San Jose Police down on Sirius Innovation and bring the villains to justice.
Samantha slid the notebook across the table, not wanting her hands to get too close to Mace in case he decided to use his handcuffs.
Mace picked up the notebook and, without opening it, dropped it into his backpack by the side of his chair.
I hadn’t done it.
“But?” I said, shocked. “Aren’t you going to help investigate? I think Sean Peters—he’s the chief of staff—is guilty. He was working on a secret project with Larry, and he sits right next to Isabella. He probably got jealous that Izzy liked Larry and so he killed them.” I hesitated as Mace’s expression turned incredulous. I rushed to finish before he interrupted. “And Gloria. She works at Sirius too. She was also part of the secret project and she used to date Larry. I think. She could have killed him because he got interested in Isabella. Or maybe they each killed one of them. I don’t know for sure, but we’ve got to do something. You should question them.” I pounded my fists on the table, almost knocking over his coffee.
“Do you even hear yourself speak? You’re nuts. This isn’t some make-believe mystery story. Everything isn’t a conspiracy. You’ve got to cut it out or you will spend some time in jail.”
I sat back, frustrated, until his words penetrated and I realized he wasn’t taking me to jail. Well, at least I wouldn’t need to beg someone to come bail me out today. Besides Raj, the others might leave me there after they heard why I was locked up.
“Can’t you do something about Izzy?” Samantha’s quiet voice interrupted Mace’s scowl.
“She’s the one who died in the parachute accident?” asked Mace, his voice now closer to its normal low rumble.
Samantha burst out, “It wasn’t an accident. She was an instructor. She had hundreds of jumps under her belt. No way she messed up packing her chute and had a problem with her backup on the same jump.”
“Okay. I don’t know, but it’s not our case. The accident …” Seeing her face darken, Mace altered, “…her death took place down in Hollister, right?”
“They’re only a tiny town. The whole department was there for the event. What if …” Samantha paused as she considered her words. “What if the killer is from San Jose? Wouldn’t you, shouldn’t you, help catch him or her?” She sat back, looking hopeful.
Mace scrunched up his face, clearly not excited about getting involved. After a moment, he sighed in surrender, his commitment to helping people outweighing his displeasure. “Look, I’ll call down there and see if there’s any reason to believe it wasn’t an accident and find out if they have a suspect from San Jose. But you can’t be involved with his craziness.” He waved a dismissive hand in my general direction.
I resented the implication. Samantha was every bit as crazy as me. She was family. It was a genetic thing.
She accepted her little victory. “Okay, thank you for helping.” With her voice cracking from emotion, she cleared her throat and added, “This was no accident. Izzy was too good for that.”
After that, there was nothing else to say. Grateful we were set free with only a lecture, I stood up to leave. It was time to get out while the getting was as good as it was going to get. After all, I fought the law and the law won.
Brody lingered by the door, taking far longer than necessary to straighten the posters hanging on a bulletin board so he’d be there when we left. “Hey, dude, everything okay?” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth so Mace couldn’t see us talking.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “Thanks for asking.” I glanced back to see Mace already preoccupied with more paperwork. I pulled up my Rover app to order us a car. The police officers had dumped us with Mace, and I didn’t want to press my luck by asking him for a lift back to Samantha’s rental car.
Brody moved a flyer so it wouldn’t overlap with a larger, colorful one advertising this weekend’s Half Moon Bay Art and Pumpkin Festival. When I was growing up, this festival took place in early October. With California’s long-term drought, lots of things had changed. Besides more wildfires and needing to take short showers so I didn’t use up my water allowance, pumpkins took longer to grow. As a result, the festival had moved to the end of October.
Brody followed my glance. “You going?”
I scoffed. “Sit in traffic for over an hour each way across the mountains so I can walk around an overcrowded street and look at crap artwork? I don’t think so.”
Brody held his arms out wide. “Dude. Don’t be a Debbie Downer. It’s ginormous pumpkins, a Halloween costume contest, and alcohol. What’s not to like? Besides, if it’s too gnarly, I’ll just catch some wave action.”
I shook my head in disgust. All those crowds and traffic? “Not interested.” I could stop at the local pumpkin patch if I wanted to look at a bunch of pumpkins. I added, “Besides, I’m supposed to be at Laney’s by 5:00 p.m. to help with trick-or-treating.”
“Sounds radical,” Samantha chimed
in. Her exaggerated California surfer accent cracked me up. Even Brody laughed.
With my kids grown, I missed trick-or-treating. I didn’t like to admit it, but after all these years, I was looking forward to going with my nieces. Meghan had wanted to come too. With no kids of her own or young relatives nearby, she said it gave her the perfect excuse to enjoy Halloween like a child again. It was no surprise we were getting along well.
I still needed to pick up a costume before going to Laney’s house, but I wasn’t in the mood after today’s fiasco. Perhaps Meghan and I could stop somewhere after we had brunch in the morning.
My Rover app signaled me. “Oh, it’s here.” Turning to Samantha, I said, “Let’s go.”
Brody gave us both fist bumps as we left.
As Samantha and I got into the Rover car, she looked at me. “Cuz. You and that cop. That was impressive.” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you always this crazy or just when I’m around?”
14
Saturday Morning
When I stumbled half-awake out of my room in the morning, the door to Samantha’s room was open. On the kitchen table, I found a note saying that she’d left early to drive up to Napa to toast Izzy and would be back later this afternoon. After our debacle yesterday, she’d given up on doing any more private investigations. As for me, since Meghan had been gone all week on her business trip, I wasn’t disappointed that Samantha had taken off. Meghan and I didn’t have anything planned yet besides meeting here to hit a brunch place nearby.
After showering, I waited for Meghan outside the apartment building. The weather was still warm in late October, so I didn’t need a jacket to go with jeans and my new Hawaiian shirt. Meghan didn’t seem to be a big fan of my other Hawaiian shirts, so I figured a new one would win her over. She loved Renaissance Faires, so I ordered a Hawaiian shirt online that had more of a Robin Hood theme with green, yellow, and brown leaves intertwined with bows, and arrows sticking out of pineapples. Hawaiian shirts had to have a pineapple or a palm tree. After all, I didn’t want to be uncouth.
