Quilting Mystery: Knot In My Backyard Part 12

Uncle Isaac looked at each person sitting around the table: Hilda, Sonia, Crusher, and me. "You're all in this blanket mitzvah together?"

The four of us nodded.

"Well, I'm so relieved. I don't feel so guilty now."

What did my uncle mean? "Guilty about what?"

He grabbed my hand and squeezed. "Well, faigele. I know my Martha pretty well. You were acting pretty shifty tonight, so I thought maybe you were up to something crazy again. You know, like the murder you were involved in four months ago. Thank goodness I was wrong."

Crusher cleared his throat and looked at his plate. Sonia took a sip of water, and Hilda found something interesting to stare at across the room.

Uncle Isaac narrowed his eyes. "I was wrong, wasn't I?"

"Don't be silly, Uncle. You've got nothing to worry about."

CHAPTER 21.

Morty came by after his date to pick up Uncle Isaac. With her bedroll still in the dryer, Hilda spent the night in the guest room.

She helped wash the breakfast dishes while I made her a sandwich-to-go from the leftover brisket and challah. The sack carrying her clean clothes was now fatter with several pieces of Quincy's old wardrobe. Her clean bedroll was a little brighter with a pretty red-and-yellow tied Windmill quilt; she asked to keep the rose soap.

"Thanks for everything, Wonder Woman. I enjoyed sleeping in a real bed again. That quilt reminds me of one my grandma made that I loved so much. Maybe one day you'll show me how to make one just like it."

"I'd love to. Seriously." I thought about asking Lucy and Birdie to include Hilda in our weekly group. If there was anything a quilter loved, it was teaching someone new how to quilt.

"Your uncle's such a sweet old man." Hilda briefly touched my arm. "You're cut from the same cloth." She laughed. "Get it? It's a quilter joke."

I chuckled. "I get it. And you're right. He's special."

I handed her a piece of paper with my phone number. "Keep this. Call me anytime, for any reason. If you decide you want to get off the streets, I'll do everything I can to help." Then I drove her back to Rafi's place to retrieve her cart.

I arrived at Ed Pappas's house in just enough time for the ten o'clock meeting with his attorney, Simon Aiken, and Ed's other biker friends. Ed's wood-and-chrome dining-room table sat to the right, loaded with refreshments. I poured myself some Starbucks coffee from the disposable carton, but I pa.s.sed on the apple fritters from Western Donuts.

People were lounging in Ed's living room to the left, sprawled on his brown leather sofa and matching easy chairs. I sat in one of the empty chrome chairs from the dining room. We had all agreed to meet this morning for a progress report, and I couldn't wait to tell everyone what I found out from the groundskeeper.

Simon Aiken wore jeans, like everyone else, on this Sat.u.r.day morning. A new diamond stud sparkled on his earlobe.

Dana Fremont sat next to him on the sofa. Her long brown hair hung in two thick braids and her size-four skinny-legged jeans hugged ankles as slender as my wrists. A big new diamond sparkled on her finger.

Aiken reached over and briefly caressed her forearm.

Ah! Dana doesn't just work for Aiken; they're a couple. Have they recently exchanged diamond engagement rings?

Crusher wore a brown bandana on his head this morning. His six-foot-six, three-hundred-pound frame completely filled one of the large leather easy chairs. He stood to offer me the chair. He might've been a golem, but he was a golem with manners and "hidden depths," as he hinted last night. I declined his offer and stayed seated in the smaller chair, where my feet could touch the floor.

Carl, the young biker who helped save Beavers's wounded dog, waved; a smile creased his handsome face.

Ed Pappas, whose legal defense was the topic of this meeting, sat in the other easy chair, studying his laptop. Ed wore his uniform: a blue-and-white striped tank top showing off his tattoo of the Greek flag, cargo shorts, and a three-day growth of light brown beard.

Aiken cleared his throat. "Okay, everyone's here, so let's get started. I'll go first. I talked to the DA, and she's convinced she can make a case against Ed based on his threat against Dax Martin and the b.l.o.o.d.y baseball bat found in Ed's backyard. Although he hasn't been arrested and formally charged with the murder yet, we need to be prepared for when she comes after him. She hinted it was only a matter of time."

Ed's face paled; the skin around his eyes tightened and his mouth formed a hard line. My pulse quickened at the bad news.

Aiken looked at me. "Martha, I hear you talked to the groundskeeper yesterday. Could he tell you anything about the witnesses Javier and Graciela?"

"He wants to remain anonymous. He'll lose his job if the school ever finds out he talked to me. Anyway, he knows nothing about the homeless couple, but he did give me a juicy bit of info. He confirmed Dax Martin carried on an affair with the headmaster's wife, Diane Davis, in the stadium office there." I pointed through Ed's sliding gla.s.s doors and beyond to the maroon-and-gold building looming like a permanent insult sixty feet away. Dana typed quickly on her iPad.

"He also said he heard Martin and his wife arguing a week before he was killed. Martin's angry wife informed him she told Jefferson Davis about the affair with Diane."

Aiken nodded. "That would give Davis a motive to kill Martin. That's more ammunition to help us establish reasonable doubt in court. Good work, Martha."

"Thanks. There's also been a new development since our last meeting." I told them about the plan to go down in the wildlife reserve on Sunday and distribute quilts and supplies to the homeless. "While we're down there, we'll look for Javier and Graciela."

Dana looked at me and smiled. "Nice idea. Will you be safe?"

Crusher sat forward in his seat. "Now that Switch is gone, I hear things have changed for the better down there. I'm going to help Martha take the stuff in my truck. We need the Valley Eagles to ride in and keep the peace." Valley Eagles was what these motorcycle buddies called their club-hence the big purple V E on the back of their jackets and vests.

"I'm loading the truck tomorrow morning at ten, at Martha's house. We'll caravan from there down Burbank Boulevard at around eleven."

"I'm in," said Carl and Ed at the same time.

Aiken cracked his knuckles. "Yeah, Dana and I'll be there." He turned to Ed. "Anything new?"

"I went to the website for the Army Corps of Engineers. The chain of command is pretty short. Specialist Lawanda Price is the coordinator for the Sepulveda Basin. She's the one who actually comes to the area and physically supervises the properties for compliance and maintenance-including the parks, wildlife reserve, and ball fields."

Crusher took a gulp of coffee. "She's the one who approved the building of the stadium?"

Ed scratched his neck. "No. I think that's way above her rank and pay grade. She's basically a low-level field grunt. A couple links up the chain is a civilian, Barbara Hardisty. She's the real estate a.s.sets manager and the one who has broad authority over all the federal real estate in California. This Hardisty woman is likely the one who approved the stadium."

Aiken narrowed his eyes. "Interesting."

Ed shifted in his seat. "There's more. I went fishing around the Beaumont School website to see what I could find out about Martin, the stadium, the athletic program, anything really. I found a roster and photos posted of the students partic.i.p.ating in each sport. Guess which soph.o.m.ore is on the baseball team?"

Everyone looked at Ed.

"A boy named Jason Hardisty."

Crusher stopped just before he bit into his second fritter. "Any connection to the lady who approved the building of the school's baseball stadium?"

Ed shrugged. "I don't know. Beaumont records are confidential. In order to get a list of students and their parents, I'd have to hack into their computer system or break into their offices."

Aiken stretched his arm out like a traffic cop. "Stop. I'm sure you're speaking hypothetically, right? You can't say things like that with other people in the room, even if you're kidding. Attorney-client privilege extends only to the two of us when we're alone. If you're arrested and we have to convince a jury you're innocent, we don't want anyone here forced to testify you said anything incriminating."

Ed looked chagrined. "Okay. Got it."

Aiken waved his hand. "Anyway, that information is easy enough to get. Every family is listed in the school directory. All we have to do is find a parent with a directory. I know someone at Beaumont who might give me a copy, but they're out of town until Monday."

He turned to Dana. "Tell everyone what you discovered about the headmaster and his wife."

She made a few swipes on her iPad. "I did some cyber sleuthing on each of them. Diane Davis appears to have her own a.s.sets. She comes from money. Jefferson Davis reports about half a mil a year from his job and another two hundred thou from a personal holding company called 'SFV a.s.sociates. ' Probably stands for San Fernando Valley."

Ed looked at me and back at Dana. "Do we know what his company does?"

"Yeah. SFV a.s.sociates incorporated more than two years ago, right before the Beaumont Stadium project began. They just happened to make the winning bid to build the stadium and then subcontracted with Valley Allstar Construction to do the work."

I spoke up. "Makes sense. As headmaster, Jefferson Davis was in a position to know what the other contractors bid on the stadium. He might even have suggested to them a number to bid on, knowing it would be high. Then his company came in at the last minute with a lower bid, undercut their prices, and got the job. Davis pocketed a percentage and, with the rest of the money, hired a contractor, Valley Allstar, to actually build the stadium."

Carl still looked lost. "How does this tie in with Martin's murder?"

I refilled my coffee cup. "Maybe the murder wasn't about an affair. Martin was closely tied to the stadium project. Maybe he knew from the start, or maybe he found out from Diane Davis, how her husband got the contract. Dax Martin didn't come from money. He had three kids to support and another on the way. Maybe he saw a way to get more money and tried to blackmail Davis. It's obvious to me that Davis is a control freak. He'd never stand for anyone having power over him. It's possible Jefferson Davis killed Martin to shut him up."

Aiken nodded. "Davis has two reasons for wanting Martin dead-jealousy and money. Of course, at this juncture, this is all speculation, but it's substantial enough to cause reasonable doubt if the case ever goes to a jury."

Maybe Beavers might be less angry with me if I could give him this useful information we were uncovering. Maybe he'd see I was right all along about Ed's innocence. Maybe he'd even forgive me.

"Shouldn't we give what we have to the police? They might decide to pursue these other leads right now and leave Ed alone," I suggested.

Aiken shook his head. "Not yet. The police are building their case against Ed, and the DA isn't in a mood to listen. We've got to present them with more than conjecture. We need additional hard evidence. The information against Davis is our ace in the hole, and we're not going to play that card until it'll do the most good."

I was disappointed over losing the opportunity to contact Beavers, but I knew Aiken spoke the truth. Ed's freedom might depend on a surprise defense.

I asked, "Simon, what happened with your contact in the US Attorney's Office? Were they able to get the Beaumont doc.u.ments from the Army Corps of Engineers?"

"So far, the district commander has failed to return his calls. It's the weekend now, so nothing more is going to get done until Monday. We'll just have to exercise some patience and wait." He cleared his throat. "Let's review where we stand."

I said I'd search for Javier and Graciela in the wildlife reserve the next day, and Aiken said he'd pursue the Army Corps of Engineers/Beaumont/ Hardisty connections with his contacts on Monday.

Aiken stretched and stood. "Good work, everyone. And good luck tomorrow. Let's touch base again here at Ed's on Monday evening. Hopefully, we'll have more answers by then."

Crusher also stood, towering above me by a good fourteen inches. Hebrew letters and a familiar red logo spread across the expansive chest of his x.x.x-Large T-shirt. "I'll walk you home."

Walking next to Crusher, I felt as light as a feather and completely forgot about Dana's size-four jeans.

"Thanks again for dinner last night."

I jumped at the chance to find out more about this enigmatic giant. "How do you know so much Torah? Do you really keep your head covered for religious reasons? And how did you land in prison?"

A curtain twitched in Sonia's window across the street. Before Crusher could open his mouth to answer, Sonia stood in front of us. Her gaze never left his face. She wore green eye shadow and batted lashes coated in black mascara. She reminded me of an eager lizard.

"Martha, Yossi, how nice to see you again so soon after such a lovely dinner."

Crusher put his arm around my shoulders and hung on for dear life. "Huh? Yeah. Martha here's a real balabusta." He used the Yiddish expression for "domestic G.o.ddess/kitchen maven" and squeezed me like toothpaste for emphasis.

She tilted her head. "I'm also a pretty good cook. . . ."

I SO did not want to be in the vicinity of this conversation, and I didn't want Crusher hiding behind me-as if he could hide behind anybody. I wriggled out of his grasp.

"Uh, Sonia, are we expecting any more donations today?"

"Lots, and I've got a few pickups I promised to make." She looked hopefully at Crusher. "I may need a little help."

Crusher smiled apologetically and touched his forehead as if he'd just remembered something. "You know, I'd like to help, but I've got to get back to my shop. I'll call Martha this evening after I close to see how things are going."

He rapidly walked back to his Harley and strapped on his helmet. The very large black-and-chrome bike rumbled past us like a Brahma bull, and Crusher briefly flashed the palm of his hand in salute.

Sonia sighed. "There goes one gorgeous hunk of man. I was surprised last night to learn he's so religious. Do you know what was written in Hebrew on the front of his T-shirt?"

Yes, I did, although it had taken me a while to figure it out.

"Budweiser."

CHAPTER 22.

Sonia returned home, and I was just about to walk in my front door, when an army jeep drove down the street and turned toward the baseball field. A late-model black Jaguar wasn't far behind. The jeep must have been from the Army Corps of Engineers. Ed said Specialist Lawanda Price managed the Sepulveda Basin. That could be her.

I moved quietly around my house to the back, hiding under the drooping branches of the pepper trees, hoping to blend in with the foliage. The jeep parked next to the field and a woman with a red ponytail, wearing army fatigues, got out. The Jag pulled up next to the jeep and a brunette in a green linen pantsuit got out. Was that a Beaumont parent driving the expensive car?

The two of them walked toward the shade of the trees in the nearby parkland. "Ponytail" started talking and "Pantsuit" crossed her arms over her chest.

I moved as quickly as I could in my pink rubber Crocs, darting from behind one bush to another, skulking like the Pink Panther. Luckily, the women were hotly engaged and didn't notice my approach. They made no effort to keep their voices down.

"I know all about Beaumont," said Ponytail. "I could ruin you, Barbara."

Oh, my G.o.d. The woman in the green pantsuit must be Barbara Hardisty, Lawanda Price's boss and the one who approved the building of the baseball stadium!

"You'd better keep your mouth shut," said Hardisty.

"It'll cost you."

"I'm warning you. You're in way over your head." She gestured toward Ed's house. "People who get in their way-"

The pollen from a nearby acacia made me sneeze. They stopped talking and looked in my direction. I quickly stepped back onto the path and pretended to be walking toward the park. As I approached, they both glanced at my distinctive pink shoes.

Note to self: get dark-colored Crocs to wear in public.

I smiled and waved my hand in greeting. "Hi, ladies. Looks like we're in for another scorcher today." I got close enough to read the name tag sewn onto the pocket of Ponytail's uniform: Spc Price. I was so right about who they were.