Читать книгу Too Many Crooks Spoil the Plot - Sarah Osborne - Страница 12

Chapter Five

I closed the door and walked down the hall to the kitchen, searching for Lurleen. The kitchen was spotless. Everything was out of sight—including Lurleen. I found her in the backyard cleaning up. The yard looked like a tornado had touched down.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for all this,” I said.

“Entirely my pleasure. You would do the same for me, and I loved every minute.” She stared at me intently. “What’s wrong? I know you’re upset about your friend, but Detective Garrett seems like a very competent man. He’ll find the person who did this. Why do you look so worried? I used to have a boxer, and when he was upset his little forehead would wrinkle, just like yours is now.”

I smiled and attempted to smooth out one or two wrinkle lines. “It’s not the image I’m going for, but I am worried.”

“About what, chérie?” Lurleen stopped searching the grass for candy wrappers and stood up to give me her full attention.

“Lucie isn’t telling us the truth about her father or where Jason got his Transformer.”

“Hmm,” Lurleen said, one hand on her slender hip. “This deserves some thought—and maybe another piece of cake when I’m done here. You think best while you’re baking. I think best while I’m eating.”

“Sounds good. I’ll finish up here. You go inside and relax.”

“Nonsense. Two hands are better than one. Make that quatre mains.” She raised her hands, wiggled her long fingers, and began picking up baguettes from our bowling game.

“It’s a shame to waste all this French bread,” she said. “Waste not, want not, as my aunt liked to say.”

“We’ll leave it for the birds. They’ll be thrilled.” I helped Lurleen break up the pieces of bread and scatter them around the yard. Together we untangled the Eiffel Tower from the Japanese maple and carried it carefully to her car where it just managed to fit into the back seat.

“Do you need help on the other end unloading this?”

“No, no. I’m stronger than I look thanks to my interval training and body-sculpting classes.” She flexed her muscles to show me some very fine biceps. “I love not working. It gives me time for all the things I do enjoy. If I missed a single exercise class, which I wouldn’t, my instructor Wendy would e-mail me to make sure I was all right.”

We packed the rest of the supplies in her trunk and passenger seat while I thanked her again for her magnificent party.

“It was nothing. Rien du tout. If I’d known children could be this delightful, I’d have had a couple.”

We walked together up the driveway to the porch. She settled herself in the swing and looked up at me expectantly.

“Of course, the cake,” I said. I grabbed a cup of coffee and a slice of cake for each of us from the kitchen and put them on a tray Lurleen had given me for Christmas. I’d just moved back to Atlanta, and Lurleen insisted I’d finally moved home. She gave me a tray with the picture of what she called her spiritual home. Paris, of course. A black-and-white photo from the fifties shot at night. The city looked like a sparkling jewel.

I left the house door open, so I’d hear the kids if they stirred, and sat beside Lurleen. The sky was an intense blue, and the temperature was perfect. Early April in Atlanta—one of my favorite times in a place that got too exuberant by June and too hot in August. My giant Southern magnolia was getting ready to display her creamy white blossoms. The small patch of lawn in the front yard needed mowing, but that could wait another week.

Lurleen and I rocked gently back and forth on the swing, sipping our coffee and eating our cake. One of the many things I loved about Lurleen was that she was never in a hurry. She could get anxious and buzz around like a copper-colored dragonfly, but when it came to friendship, she had all the time in the world.

She waited for me to begin.

“I’m worried about the kids,” I said. “They may be in danger.”

“In danger?” Lurleen leaned toward me. “What’s going on?”

“You missed some of the conversation with Mason.”

“Mason?”

“Detective Garrett. He told me a detective was killed last week. Someone who worked in the Cyber Crimes Unit and talked to Ellie two weeks ago. Who knows what Ellie got herself into this time? And I have a gut feeling Lucie is lying about where Jason got his Transformer. She says it wasn’t from her father, but I don’t believe her.”

Lurleen looked thoughtful. “She must be scared,” she said. “I know—not from personal experience, mind you, just from what people have told me—that sometimes a kid is threatened into keeping secrets.”

“I know that too from my work,” I said. I looked at Lurleen, and I wondered for a moment if she might be talking about herself. She never mentioned her childhood and changed the subject whenever I asked about it.

Before I could continue, my cell phone rang. It was Tommy.

“Hi, Mabel. Didn’t hear from you, so I’m calling you back. You thought about my plan?”

“I’ve been busy, Tommy. There’s a lot going on here. A lot of bad stuff. You remember Ellie Winston?”

Tommy, never at a loss for words, was silent for a couple of beats. “Sure I remember Ellie. The girl you were glued to growing up? The one who wouldn’t give me the time of day? Yeah, I remember her.”

“Well, she died. She was murdered two days ago. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.” Tommy wasn’t exactly an ambulance chaser, but he did keep up with people who might need his services. He was always on the lookout for a case that would put him on the news as an up-and-coming Alan Dershowitz. “Oh, no,” was all he said.

“I’ve got her two kids with me.”

“I’m sorry, Mabel. Do the police know who did it?”

“No.”

I filled him in on what the police did know. “Don’t spread it around that the kids are with me, okay? I’m just not sure how safe they are.”

“Who would I tell? Of course I won’t say anything,” Tommy said. “If I can help, let me know. I really liked Ellie.” He sounded genuinely sad.

“So did I. Thanks. I haven’t thought any more about your proposal, but my answer won’t change. I’m not selling the farm.”

“Let’s talk about that later. Let me know if I can help you out. I could babysit, whatever you need.”

“Babysit? You, Tommy? I’ve never seen you around kids.”

“You underestimate me, Mabel. You always have. You think I only care about myself, but you’ve got that wrong.”

I did think Tommy cared entirely about himself. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try to revise my view. How about dinner tomorrow night, so the kids can meet you and then we’ll see about your babysitting later on.”

“Let me check my calendar.” Silence. “Sorry, Mabe. Can’t do it tomorrow. Booked. Booked all week, but next week looks good.”

“Next week they may not even be with me. I gotta go.” I hung up on him.

Lurleen gave me that look that said she understood about siblings even though she didn’t have one.

“I just don’t get Tommy,” I said. “One minute I think maybe he really does have empathy for other people, like when I told him about Ellie. He sounded genuinely upset. Then he offers to help and takes it back as soon as I ask him to follow through.”

“He’s a man with secrets,” Lurleen said to me. “Maybe someday he’ll share them with you.” She swept crumbs off her lap and gave me her full attention. “Now, tell me about everything I missed in your conversations with Detective Garrett, or should I say Mason?” She smiled innocently at me.

“Some men were threatening Ellie. The note we found in Jason’s Transformer—on a Sandler’s note pad—warned her that the kids would be harmed if she didn’t give them what they wanted. Lucie described one of the men—someone named William with a scar along his forehead.”

Lurleen put her half-eaten cake down on a side table near the swing. “How does Sandler’s figure into this?”

“I don’t know. Ellie said she used to work at Sandler’s and they were going to make her a nice severance offer. I mentioned that you used to work there, but she said she didn’t know you.”

Lurleen ran a hand through her thick hair and pushed a few auburn curls behind her ear. “I have a good friend, Marie Vanderling, who still works there. She knows everyone and everything. Whenever anyone left Sandler’s, Marie said another one had gotten ‘over the wall.’ I felt bad about leaving Marie behind, but I think she has her own reasons for staying. And she can help us now.”

“Help us?” I said.

“Solve the murder of course. Marie loves intrigue. She has the scoop on everyone at Sandler’s, and she’ll be glad to help us. You can be Nancy Drew and I’ll be your faithful sidekick. Nancy did have a sidekick, didn’t she? Remember, you and I watched that old movie of hers, Nancy Drew and the Hidden Staircase.”

“I think the sidekick was named Ned.”

“A minor problem.”

“Lurleen, this is too dangerous to play around with. Two children have lost their mother. They may be at risk.”

“Point taken. I sometimes get carried away. It’s just that I have access. Access that Detective Garrett might not have. And I didn’t tell you the most vital piece of information.”

She waited for effect. I waited too. It was a standoff between old friends.

“All right, I give,” I said after several seconds. “What is your vital information?”

“Lucie mentioned a man named William with a scar. I know one man with a scar like that, and his name is Billy Joe Sandler. We used to call him the Triple B, for Bad Boy Billy. He’s William Sandler’s grandson. At one point he was being groomed to become the next CEO, but that was before he got into all kinds of trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Drugs, alcohol. Small stuff. Although I did hear he beat someone to a pulp in a bar. That almost got him put in jail for a while. Sandler Senior got sick of his bad behavior.”

“Wow!” I said. “You think he’s William?”

“Has to be. Probably trying to seem more grown-up with a new name. But a new name doesn’t change old behavior. Plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose. He’s the same old Billy Joe.”

“We have to tell Mason,” I said.

“Right. Mason.”

“Detective Garrett.”

“By all means.”

I dialed his number. He didn’t pick up, so I left a message.

When I was done, Lurleen took both my hands. “I think he’s lovely,” she said. “Your detective,” she added when I gave her a blank look. “And I will plan the wedding.”

“Don’t you think that’s jumping the gun a bit?” I asked.

“Why? Is he married? Do we have to go through a troublesome divorce?”

“His wife died a few years ago,” I said. “But I’ve known him two days.”

“I see,” Lurleen said. “Of course, for the French this would not be a problem. You’d have an affair, see where things went, and decide later if this was a permanent or temporary relationship. But you Americans are so much more cautious.”

“We Americans?”

“You know what I mean, chérie. I may be American by birth but certainly not by temperament.”

I nodded my agreement and smiled. “You really like him?” I said.

“Ooh la la, I think he’s perfect. For you, that is. He’s not my type, so no worry there. I like my men a little more out there. And your Detective Garrett is quite self-contained. Steady I would say. Kind.”

Lurleen was a very good judge of character.

“I like him too,” I said. “But I can’t think about a relationship right now, and I haven’t had good luck with men.”

“What are you talking about? Sure, you had that ridiculous date from Match.com, but who cares about that? And then there was someone else, I forget his name, who soured you on all men. That was years ago, and I could have told you he wasn’t a keeper.”

“You mean Phil Brockton?”

“That was his name. Phillip Brockton the fifteenth or something like that.”

“Phil Brockton the fourth. What do you mean you knew he wasn’t a keeper?”

“Phil was always about Phil. And so serious about the Civil War. Of course, the ‘War of Northern Aggression’ will never be over—not if you live in the south. But Phil took it to a ridiculous level. Dressing up like a Civil War general—”

“Colonel,” I said. “His great-, great-, great-grandfather was a colonel in Cobb’s Legion. Phil’s uniform has buttons from the colonel’s coat.”

“I rest my case, chérie. He spent more time traveling to Civil War plays than he ever did with you.”

“They’re called reenactments, not plays,” I said. “And plenty of people spend their lives doing that.”

“Well, I’m sorry for their wives if they have them.”

“I thought you liked Phil.”

Lurleen shook her head. “Not really. I didn’t say anything because you seemed to love him, but you deserved much more. When he left, I thought, Good riddance, bon debarras. Don’t repeat that—it’s very rude in French, but it’s the right expression for him. I didn’t know you’d be so crushed and give up on men all together. It’s a terrible waste, Ditie. You have so much to offer.”

“Speaking of Phil, I got a letter from him two days ago. He’s coming to Atlanta sometime soon.”

“You’re not going to see him!”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, Ditie, how can you be so clearheaded about so many things and so totally confused about this man? Here is Detective Garrett, ready and willing. And you think about Phil Brockton?”

“I did throw away his letter. Maybe that will be the end of it.” I studied her. “How do you know so much about Detective Garrett and his intentions?”

“I saw the way he looked at you during the party. I’ll bet he wants to take you out.” She smiled. “I can tell by the look on your face I’m right.”

“It’s the wrong time. He said so too.”

Before I could say more, Lucie appeared at the door with Jason beside her. Lurleen and I made room for them on the swing. I cuddled Jason, and Lurleen put an arm around Lucie.

“I bet you two are hungry for dinner,” I said. “I wondered if you were going to sleep all night. Why don’t we go out to eat? After all, it’s still Jason’s birthday. Would you like that?”

Both children nodded enthusiastically.

“How about the Varsity?”

The children stared at me as if I were speaking Swahili.

“The Varsity? Hot dogs? Onion rings? What’ll ya have? What’ll ya have?”

No signs of recognition.

“Okay. Well, the Varsity is a tradition in Atlanta. They claim to be the biggest drive-in restaurant in the world. We’ll make it a birthday tradition. Maybe Lurleen will join us.” I looked over the children’s heads at Lurleen.

“Ah, I would love to, mes chéries, but I am stuffed like a French sausage. No room.” She patted her flat belly. “Remember, I will pick you up after school tomorrow and then the fun we’ll have!”

We all got up at once. Lurleen kissed each of us on both cheeks and we watched as she folded her long legs into her tiny Citroën and drove off down the street.

I asked if the children were ready to go, and Jason looked at me.

“Can Mommy come with us? I want to wait until she comes home. She’ll be hungry.”

“Oh, Jason,” I said, sitting back down on the swing. He climbed onto my lap.

“Mommy missed my birthday party,” he said, and with that he started to cry. Lucie wasn’t far behind. She cuddled next to me, rubbing her eyes and her nose from time to time. I grabbed some tissues out of the box on the table next to the swing. One for Jason, one for Lucie, and one for me.

We didn’t talk. We just sat in the swing, barely moving, crying our eyes out. Hermione joined us, aware that something was terribly wrong, and settled at our feet. Even Majestic jumped up on the swing next to Lucie and crept onto her lap. We were as sad as we could be, but we were a family. I knew at that moment that I couldn’t bear to let these children go, and I prayed to God I wouldn’t have to.