Deader Homes and Gardens Part 14

"I don't want to hear this," I said. "It was a mistake, and thank goodness you left without getting caught. Prowling is against the law, too."

"We didn't exactly leave," Inez said as she came into the room and handed Caron a piece of limp toast. "We waited half an hour and then did it again, just to see what would happen. The second time, the cop was surly and the security guy was on his cell phone with some technician. They opened and closed the patio door a bunch of times. They went inside, set the alarm, and left."

"So we did it again," Caron said through a mouthful of crumbs. "You should have heard the cop. He made such a fuss that the dog ran over and nipped him. It was so incredibly funny. This big old cop, trying to defend himself without kicking the dog, was hopping around the patio like a drunken kangaroo. He finally yelled at the security guy to deactivate the alarm. The security guy said he couldn't without the owner's permission, and the cop threatened to arrest him for some trumped-up charge, and then the dog bit the security guy and they both left."

I struggled to maintain my maternal steeliness. "Don't ever do anything like that again-and I mean it."

Caron smiled smugly. "Why would we? The alarm is off and the patio door is unlocked. Are you coming with us or not?"

I went into the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I lacked f.a.gin's scraggly hair and poor posture, but I was as guilty as he'd been. He'd recruited orphans to become thieves and pickpockets. I'd reared one. If she made it through college, her only hope was to become a politician. I splashed water on my face, squared my shapely shoulders, and mentally rehea.r.s.ed my lecture as I went back to the living room.

They were gone. I ran through my list of Anglo-Saxon profanities as I hurried down to my car and drove to the neighborhood of faux Tudors, contemporary antebellums, and stately pleasure domes. Caron's car was parked a block away from Angela's house. I parked nearby and walked along the sidewalk, feeling so far out of my comfort zone that I needed a pa.s.sport. I went to the front door and knocked, waited for a moment, and then dodged around the corner of the house to a gate. I let myself in and was immediately greeted by a hysterical dog that believed I was Anubis incarnate.

"Down, Flopsy," I said sternly as I closed the gate behind me. Caron and Inez were nowhere in sight, which was not good. The patio door was slightly open. Flopsy continued to jump on me and splatter my ankles with s...o...b..r as I went inside. "Caron! Inez! I'm going to call the police myself if you two don't get in here right now!"

I hurried through the sunroom, the kitchen, and was in the foyer when Inez came bounding downstairs. "You've got to see her shoes, Ms. Malloy! There must be two hundred pairs of them on special shelves in her closet."

"I have no desire to look at shoes. Where's Caron?"

"In the office upstairs."

I continued to the second floor. The master bedroom was royal purple, violet, lavender, and all shades in between. The four-poster bed had a canopy of tapestry with dribbly fringe and mounds of carefully coordinated throw pillows and shams. The next bedroom was decidedly green, and the next pink and pinker. Winston and Terry had not solicited her decorating advice. The last room had been converted into an office with a large desk, filing cabinets, shelves of supplies, an array of computer equipment, a printer, and arcane wonders.

Caron was sitting on the floor, surrounded by stacks of papers and manila folders. "About time," she said with a sniff. "I have no idea what I'm looking for. This real estate stuff is stupid. I can't believe they use paper. Do you realize how many trees died just because she didn't keep all these records on her computer? We're talking entire national forests."

"Put it all back where you found it so we can leave," I said with impressive self-control. "If you're so concerned about trees, volunteer on Arbor Day. Let's go-now!"

"Yeah, we're not going to find anything." She began to cram papers back into folders. "I didn't see anything marked 'Hollow Valley' or 'love letters.'"

Inez came into the room, holding Flopsy in her arms. "n.o.body writes letters. Let's check her old e-mail."

I looked out the window at the street, where a white van was backing out of a driveway. Cars cruised sedately by, and children on bicycles ventured into the street. "We are not going to do anything to her computer. The security company may be sending over an electrician to search for a faulty breaker. It will be hard to explain why we're in the house, ransacking Angela's office."

"I did not ransack anything," Caron said as she rose to her feet and sat down in front of the computer. "This will only take a second, Mother. Why don't you go play fetch with the dog?" Her fingers began to flit across the keyboard. "I need a pa.s.sword. Inez, see if you can find her pa.s.sport or birth certificate. A lot of people use their birthday or maiden name for their pa.s.swords."

"Try Flopsy," Inez suggested.

I was mesmerized by Caron's fingers. Her handwriting was illegible, but her manual dexterity was superlative. Evolution was in high gear. Kindergarten children would never learn to hold a pencil or memorize the multiplication tables. Why bother, when computers and calculators replaced their pudgy little hands. Emotions would be reduced to emoticons. As an anomaly from the twentieth century, I would not be LOL.

"I'm in," Caron announced. "There must be a hundred e-mails. She has more doc.u.ment files than the Library of Congress. This will take forever." She leaned forward as she continued to type. "Garden parties, fashion shows, dinner invitation list, charitable contributions, business expenses, photos from at least ten different addresses, lawyer stuff, travel destinations, somebody's baby shower registry-this is ridiculous!"

Inez put Flopsy on the floor and peered over Caron's shoulder. "Look at all the kennels that sent information. Oh, and there's a file from a private detective agency. Open that one."

I raised an eyebrow. "Does it concern her husband?"

"Yeah," Caron said, "but the last report is dated six months ago. What a sleaze her husband is. Can you imagine staying at the Chez Amigos Motel? There are bullet holes in the door."

I let them gasp and giggle while I looked around. There were no plats pinned to a wall or rolled up in a pile. The lack of tangible evidence did not negate the theory that Angela knew about Danny's plans for Hollow Valley. I noticed that the answering machine was blinking frenetically.

I pushed the b.u.t.ton. The messages concerned an upcoming fund-raiser for the local symphony orchestra, a bridal shower for someone named Penelope, and a reception in honor of a dean at Farber College. Angela was invited to be on a steering committee, arrange flowers, pick up Sylvia's coffee urn, tell Jessica to stop being such a b.i.t.c.h, shop for shoes, and have lunch at an absolutely fabulous new cafe. In the middle of these, my messages began to intrude. The receptionist at the real estate company left perky messages; Bartleby's messages were blunt. The last twelve messages were from me.

"Mother," Caron said, "come read this. It's an e-mail from her husband from a week ago."

I took her seat in front of the computer. The e-mail had been sent the previous Tuesday morning, less than an hour before Angela had picked me up to show me the house. It read: "This is a waste of time and money for both of us. I will agree to the settlement proposal already on the table. You can have the d.a.m.n house if it's such a big deal, and the furnishings except for my personal stuff. I'll take the lake house. You get the country club membership. I get the season football tickets. I don't give a s.h.i.t about the jewelry, so sell it or whatever. Take the d.a.m.n dog, too. The financial a.s.sets will be divided as laid out in the proposal. You're getting every G.o.dd.a.m.n thing you want, Angela. The only thing you have to do is stay the h.e.l.l out of my business. If you screw up the development, this offer's off the table. You mess with me and you can kiss your a.s.s good-bye. Danny."

"I wish he'd been more specific," I said, disappointed. "Even his threat is vague."

Caron nudged me aside. "Let's see what she e-mailed him. It'll be in her sent-mail box, most likely the evening before he sent her that one." She tackled the keyboard. "Okay, here it is. This ought to be enough to nail him."

Angela's e-mail read: "Guess who I talked to tonight-Terry Kennedy. He's willing to sell his house to one of my clients. Put that up your nose, jerk."

I grinned at the screen. "That's it! She got to him, and he was so desperate that he capitulated on the divorce settlement. We have his motive. Now Jorgeson can subpoena all the paperwork concerning the Hollow Valley development. Danny doesn't have an alibi for Sat.u.r.day or Sunday."

"Did he murder Terry, too?" asked Inez.

"It makes sense," I said. "He thought that kidnapping and murdering Angela would solve all of his problems. Then I found a way to get in touch with Terry, so his precious plan was still in peril. He snuck in the house and left the poisoned vodka."

"How did he do that, Ms. Malloy?" Jorgeson asked from the doorway. His smile was strained and his voice chilly.

"Didn't your mother teach you to knock?"

"I might ask you the same question. I'm not implying that you didn't knock, Ms. Malloy, but only as a gesture. You knew that no one was here to invite you and the young ladies to come inside and hack into this computer."

"We did not hack," I said in an offended voice. "Hacking implies violence. We did nothing more than turn it on. Shouldn't you be having one of your men print out the e-mails?"

Jorgeson gave me a glum look. "We'll print them out, but they can't be used as evidence at a trial. The defense will claim that they might have been tampered with by a civilian. If we'd taken the computer to the PD, our tech would have opened them. The only fingerprints on the keyboard would have belonged to the victim."

"Okay, okay," I said. "I'm sorry. However, you know perfectly well that we didn't tamper with anything. We found Danny's motive, Jorgeson. All you have to do is find out who tipped him off Tuesday afternoon that Angela and I were at Winston's house."

"I fear that I have other things to do as well." He looked at Caron and Inez, who had backed into a corner. "For the moment, you two may go home and stay there. I will do what I can with the city prosecutor, but the decision is his."

"I can't stay home," Caron protested. "I'm going to the lake with Joel. He borrowed a kayak from his uncle."

Jorgeson shrugged. "Then I apologize for the inconvenience. You are free to choose whether you prefer to remain at home or accompany us to the police department. I must warn you that the soda machine is broken and the reading material is limited to hunting and car magazines."

Caron rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Inez. Let's go to my house and do some online research about the legality of detaining juveniles." She stomped out of the room, with Inez following obediently.

"As for you, Ms. Malloy," he said with a long-suffering sigh, "you and I need to resume our interview in my office. Please give your car key to this nice young officer. I am reluctant to let you out of my sight until Deputy Chief Rosen is back."

I raised my eyebrows. "Why, I'd be delighted to ride with you, Lieutenant Jorgeson. Is there a chance we might swing by a coffee bar on the way for lattes and biscotti? My treat, of course."

I did not get my latte and biscotto. Once I was seated in Jorgeson's office, I forgave him for his petulance and said, "What did the medical examiner determine about Angela's time of death?"

Jorgeson took his sweet time before responding. "She's unable to do more than offer an approximation. The body was kept in cold storage for some period of time, so the standard measures are unreliable. She was killed elsewhere more than five days ago, and put in the ground within six hours of discovery." He put up his hand to stop me before I could blurt out the obvious question. "Blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Something heavy with a flat surface. Bits of dirt and debris in the wound. No indications that she fought back."

I was amazed at his willingness to share the medical examiner's findings. Peter would not have offered an observation on the weather. "Does Danny have an alibi for Tuesday afternoon and evening?" I asked.

"Yes, and it's been verified. He was at his office until five and then had drinks and dinner at the country with a group of friends. His, uh, friend says the two of them spent the night at his condo."

"Then his accomplice did it," I said. "A couple of days later, Danny and the accomplice drove Angela's car to Maxwell County to muddle things."

"Well done, Ms. Malloy. If you'll give us the name of the accomplice, we'll have this wrapped up before the evening news."

I was not amused by his flippancy. "The Farberville Police Department has adequate resources to identify the accomplice, while I, a civilian of no great consequence, am powerless and can only watch with awe and respect. Is that all, Lieutenant Jorgeson?"

It was not. I offered Jorgeson a mult.i.tude of means, motives, and opportunities that could be applied to every last person I'd met since the day Angela showed me the perfect house. Some plots required convoluted conspiracies, bribery, blackmail, psychotic breaks, and/or s.e.xual misconduct. I gave him grudges galore. After I finished a theory in which Nattie was Bartleby's ex-wife and Jordan was their love child, Jorgeson suggested that we take a very long break.

"What about Caron and Inez?" I asked him. "I am more than willing to sit here the rest of the day and explain why it was necessary for them to gain ingress, however the means, so that-"

Jorgeson's gaze was a wee bit unfriendly. "I will make a note that they went inside to rescue the dog. The computer hacking need not be mentioned as long as I don't come across their names in any future reports. Is there any hope that you and I can settle for the same arrangement?"

"Of course," I said merrily. "There is one thing, though. I promised Jordan that she could come spend the night with Caron and Inez, so I'll need a letter of pa.s.sage to pick her up."

He scribbled out a note that ensured my safety behind enemy lines. His parting words were desultory, leading me to wonder if he was unwell. The previous day had been exhausting for both of us, I thought as I drove home and parked next to Caron's car. She and Inez were cross-legged on her bed, texting silently like Zen adherents. There seemed to be so many texts zipping through the atmosphere that it was a miracle there was adequate oxygen for respiration. If everyone was sending them, who had time to read them?

I called Peter and was composing a message when he said, "Claire, is something wrong?"

It was a poser. I opted for innocence. "Everything's fine. I told Jorgeson what I know, and now it's his headache. We're not going to get the house, so I've decided to move on. Later, I'll go get some magazines with house plans. But how are you? Do you know how long you'll be stuck up there?"

"No idea. Most of the agents are out in the field. I'll meet with the bra.s.s from the trucking company and their insurance people and then partic.i.p.ate in a conference call with the feds. The truck driver's not talking. I could be here for at least a couple of days." He stopped for a moment. "I've got to go. Can I trust you to stay out of the investigation just this once?"

"You can always trust me, darling."

I made a peanut b.u.t.ter sandwich and poured a gla.s.s of iced tea. I was brooding on the balcony when Caron came out.

"If I'm going to prison, I'm not going to bother with the summer reading list," she said. "It's not like we'll sit around in a cell and discuss No Exit. Do I need to start packing anytime soon?"

"Jorgeson said that he'd overlook our minor escapade if we keep a low profile."

"Can I go to the lake with Joel? Inez wants to come, too."

"Yes," I said, "but you have to be home at four, and not one minute later. I promised Jordan that she could come spend the night. You can take her to the mall, and I'll give you money for pizza. After everything that's happened out there lately, she deserves a respite. She was with me when we uncovered the body."

"Cool," Caron said. "Yeah, we'll be here at four. Inez says that Jordan has body piercings and a tattoo. I've never met anyone like that. She probably has some really neat stories."

The peanut b.u.t.ter solidified in my stomach. "Don't even think about it. If you so much as draw on your skin with an indelible marker, you're grounded for the rest of the summer. I mean it, Caron. You are not going to make the same mistakes she made."

Caron grinned, then went to her bedroom to confer with Inez. I drowned my worries in iced tea, calling good-bye to the girls as they went downstairs. In a year, I reminded myself for the umpteenth time, Caron would make her own decisions. If she made the wrong ones, Peter and I would not leave a forwarding address.

Rather than descend into depression, I turned my thoughts back to the matter at hand. Danny Delmond claimed to have alibis for the day when Angela disappeared and for the six-hour period when her body had been transported and buried. Angela's low opinion of the young woman was less than impartial. She might be a respectable sort, who had a good job, called her parents every week, and sang in a church choir. Or she might be a s.l.u.t. Jorgeson had not mentioned her name, and he most likely would not do so if I called him.

I'd agreed to keep a low profile, but I hadn't promised to spend the next few days polishing silver. Angela had told me that she'd amended the divorce pet.i.tion from the standard "irreconcilable differences" to the ever popular "adultery," and named Danny's girlfriend as a corespondent. I found Angela's briefcase under a chair and took out the doc.u.ments from the lawyer. All things Delmond v. Delmond were covered, including property division proposals, vitriolic notes from Angela that contained references to Danny's manhood, conciliatory letters from her lawyer, D. W. Hendrix, and preliminary rulings. Not one listed the name of the corespondent.

I found D. W. Hendrix's office number in the directory and dialed it. When a receptionist answered, I launched into an impromptu speech. "I'm with KLMNOP, your local all-news station. As you surely have been informed, Angela Delmond's body was found yesterday, and the police are investigating it as a murder. To give depth to our report, we're running background stories about Mr. and Ms. Delmond. I've located the divorce pet.i.tion filed by your office, along with the amendments. If you could just give me the contact information for the corespondent, you'd save me a trip to the courthouse." I paused and then lowered my voice. "You know how bosses can be. Mine thinks I can drop everything to fetch him coffee or run errands. Last week I had to take off a day because my child was ill, and I nearly got fired."

The receptionist was immune to my offer of feminist camaraderie. "In that the information is a matter of public record, her name is Nanette Campbell. I have no further information concerning her. What station are you with?"

"Thank you so very much," I said and hung up. I held my breath while I looked up the name in the directory, then exhaled when I spotted it. Nanette lived in what I suspected was an apartment in the historic district. It was unlikely that she was home in the afternoon, but I had nothing better to do. A few minutes later I parked in front of a house with four mailboxes next to the front door. Nanette resided in 1-A. I knocked a couple of times, then gave up and paused on the porch to decide whether I should leave a note in her mailbox. The odds that she would call me were close to nil.

A portly man with a furled umbrella came up the steps. "May I help you?"

"I'm looking for Nanette Campbell."

He gave me a disappointed look. "Oh, yes. She works at the local library. Would you like to come in and wait for her? We could have a gla.s.s of sherry."

"No, thank you." I surprised both of us when I gave him a kiss on the check, then went back to my car. She might work in the children's area, I told myself without optimism. There was no reason to a.s.sume that she'd peeked over my shoulder while I read about the Terry Kennedys on the computer. Even if she had, she wouldn't recognize the significance of the name. I could have asked about deeds for a genealogy project. Furthermore, not everyone lunged to conclusions with the agility of a gazelle.

I went inside the library and stopped at the main desk. "Nanette Campbell?" I asked quietly.

I was directed to the reference desk, where the same young woman who'd helped me almost a week ago was seated. She recognized me. "Good afternoon. Do you need to use a computer again?"

"No," I said, "but I'd like to speak to you about another matter."

"If you need a.s.sistance in the genealogy department, Caroline will be happy to get you started. She has a great deal more experience than the rest of us. Let me go find her for you."

I sat down next to her. "Have you heard about Angela Delmond?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I heard she was murdered. One of the patrons saw it on the news and pa.s.sed it on. Ginger, who's a volunteer, burst into tears in the break room. Why are you asking me about it?"

"Because of your relationship with Angela's husband. You're named as a corespondent in the divorce." I smiled brightly. "You were, anyway. Now the divorce is no longer an issue."

"Is that so?" She didn't seem surprised.

Considering my reputation as an amateur sleuth, I was getting tired of the question. "You've already spoken to the police about Danny's alibi last Tuesday night. Are you certain about the date and time? I'd hate to see you cited for interfering with a police investigation or committing perjury on the stand."

"Are you helping the police?"

"In a manner of speaking," I said firmly. "Danny told the police that the two of you met for drinks and dinner, and then you spent the night at his condo. Will that be your testimony at the trial?"

"What trial?" She was beginning to squirm, and she glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot before she said, "Danny isn't going to be charged with anything. He said that the police don't have any evidence that he did anything wrong."

"That depends on your testimony, doesn't it? Subverting justice is a serious crime, and perjury can result in up to five years in prison."

If her office chair had had wheels, Nanette would have been pedaling backward as fast as she could. "I didn't lie about anything! Danny and I were together from six o'clock in the evening until we left for work the next morning. There's no way he could have left the condo without waking me up. I'm a very light sleeper."

"Okay, then what about the weekend? You were supposed to go to the lake house with him, but you didn't." I felt as if I were a shark circling in on her, one ripple at a time. I would have bared my teeth had it not been unsightly.

Perspiration glinted on her forehead. "That was the plan, yeah. I'd bought sunscreen and a new bikini, packed a suitcase, and was waiting for him when he called to say he couldn't make it. I was royally p.i.s.sed. A friend had an extra ticket to a rock concert in Tulsa, but I'd turned it down. I was stuck home all weekend."

I patted her knee. "What a c.r.a.ppy thing to do to you at the last minute. Where does he get the nerve to ask you to lie for him? Men!"

"He didn't ask me to lie," she muttered. "If he had, I would have told him what he could do with it."

"Did he bother to send you flowers after you told him about my computer search last Wednesday?"

Nanette swept back her hair with a dramatic gesture. "Our library has a strict rule concerning confidentiality. We never discuss our patrons."