Address to Die For (21 page)

One of my guilty pleasures is watching
Game of Thrones
with Max. I love that the Stark family motto is based on being ever vigilant, organized, and prepared for what's ahead.

 

 

 

 

A
fter lunch, I phoned a heating and air-conditioning technician Tess had recommended. As soon as I mentioned Tess's name, he said he'd drop what he was doing and come out. In some of the first good news we'd had in a long time, he gave our system a clean bill of health. He cleaned the filters, tested the main unit, examined the ducts, and said it was all ready to turn on as soon as the weather grew cold enough. Usually, that was sometime around Halloween, but the weather could turn nippy before then.

Of course, having a working furnace probably assured us of the warmest fall on record. But it was nice to know
something
in the house—and in my life—was working as expected.

I checked my phone. Still no answering text from Tess. I needed to ask about Pauline and Dennis. At minimum, they were odd birds. But were they dangerous? I needed to talk to someone who knew them. I wanted to bounce some ideas off Tess and hoped that I could convince her to call another meeting to help us shine some light into the darkest corners of Orchard View. Those corners almost certainly hid one or more people who might be murderers—or at least be thriving on spreading the kind of fear that tears communities apart and keeps young boys and their mom awake at night.

My phone rang. I glanced at the screen. Tess.

“Tess, I've been trying to get hold of you all day. How are you?”

“Sorry, Maggie. I had a client meeting, followed by a meeting with Teddy's dad, trying to figure out how to fit in all the after-school activities he wants to try, and still have time for each of us to see our kid.”

“Teddy's dad?”

“My husband, Patrick. He's a love.”

“I didn't know you were married.”

I did, of course, Flora had told me. But Tess didn't know that, and I didn't want her to know I'd been talking about her behind her back.

“Oh, we don't live together. He lives in Mountain View, in an apartment with a building concierge to look after him.”

I wasn't quite sure what to say to that. While California was full of people living alternative lifestyles, the vast majority of couples I knew were pretty darn ordinary. A married couple living apart was new to me.

“We love each other and we love Teddy. We just can't stand living together. I'm a complete slob at home, but want my clothes picture perfect when I go out. He's the exact opposite. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure I understand our relationship, but it works for us.”

I heard slurping, as if Tess was sucking down a smoothie. As an organizer, my job is often about developing systems to help households of diverse personalities and cleanliness standards get along. But now did not seem the time to mention that to Tess.

“So, spill. What's so important that you sent me three texts?” she said.

“Do you have time to meet me before school gets out?” I asked. “David's got band, but I've got about forty-five minutes before I need to pick up Brian.”

“Not really. That client meeting? It's for a firm bringing in a bunch of engineers from Texas. They're flying them in tomorrow and I have no idea what to show them. I've got tons of research to do.”

“Rats. I've talked to a bunch of people lately, many of them strange, and I wanted to get your take on them, since you've known them longer. I was also hoping you could call another meeting for me. They'll show up for you.”

“Maggie, I'd love to help, but I don't have time this week. Can we meet on Monday for coffee after the kids are in school?”

I didn't want to wait that long. For all I knew, the vandals might have destroyed our house by then and more people could be dead. But that wasn't Tess's fault. She had a business to run with meetings that couldn't be rescheduled or postponed. I was disappointed, but I understood.

“Okay, Tess,” I said. “I'll let you get back to it. See you Monday?”

“Monday,” said Tess. “With the dogs.”

I hung up the phone and spent a good three minutes feeling sorry for myself and hunting for cookies in the cupboards.

I couldn't find any cookies, didn't really need any, and it was almost time to pick up Brian. If I couldn't have Tess as a sidekick, I'd need to tackle the problem myself. I'd talk to the people I knew. If that didn't work, I'd try to find some other leads.

* * *

It wasn't until after both kids were home, finishing their homework after dinner, that I had time to talk to Stephen over tea in the kitchen.

I filled him in on what April had told me about Brian and asked Stephen to talk to him and assure him that several officers were keeping on eye on the camera feeds. I'd tell Brian the same thing, but I thought it might mean more coming from Stephen. I hoped we'd both be able to reassure him enough so that he could get a good night's sleep.

“Is Jason making any progress?” I asked.

Stephen grabbed one of the chocolate-chip cookies he'd brought over—leftovers from a meeting at the VA hospital. He looked thoughtful or as if he was going to try to dodge the question. I wasn't sure which.

He surprised me. “Some new evidence has come to light,” he said, smoothing out the corner of a place mat and aligning it with the edge of the table. “Fingerprints.”

“Whose fingerprints?”

Stephen cleared his throat. “Here's the thing,” he said. “Jason's team collected fingerprints from your basement when he investigated Javier Hernandez's death. They did the same in Harrier's office.”

“And?”

“Fingerprints belonging to Tess Olmos and her son Teddy were found at both locations.”

“Tess?”

“And her son, Teddy.”

“That's ridiculous. It can't be them.”

“I agree. But let's look at it as if we didn't know them. Teddy's parents are separated. They both want the best for their son. Like a lot of Silicon Valley parents, the message is that they expect their kid to do well—really well. Some kids crack under that kind of loving pressure. There are kids all over town who are cutting or self-medicating. Teddy could be one of them.”

“But we don't think he is, right?” I said. I hadn't met Teddy yet, but the quirky lifestyle of his parents seemed to be a model for being the person you wanted to be and finding ways to make it work. But what did I know? Tess and Patrick's parenting methods could have backfired and Teddy might be letting off steam by blowing up porta-potties. And if I really stretched, I could concoct a scenario in which a group of kids convinced themselves it would be funny to get their principal unknowingly drunk. Liquor, combined with tranquilizers they didn't know Harrier was taking, could have resulted in an unintended consequence, a deadly consequence.

But it didn't fit. Not with the Tess I thought I knew.

“No, I don't think Teddy is guilty,” Stephen said. “But sometimes, trying to stretch your brain to make sense of evidence is a good exercise. Sometimes, it brings other possibilities to light.”

Stephen stood and started pacing. Munchkin lifted his head, wagged his tail, and went back to sleep with a sigh. “For example, maybe Teddy didn't do it but some other child did. If that's the case, how did soda cans and water bottles with Tess and Teddy's fingerprints make their way to the office and your basement?”

“Tess volunteers in the office . . .” I said. “But she seemed mesmerized when I showed her around the house. If she'd been here before, I don't think it was recently. It's a good question to ask.”

“Don't get that glint in your eye,” Stephen said as I picked up a pen to make a note on my legal pad. “And don't make a note to ask Tess or Teddy. Jason told you to stay out of it.”

“Surely there are kids in town living under more pressure, in much worse circumstances than Teddy?”

Stephen thought for a moment. “Well ...” he began. “No, never mind. Forget I said anything. Leave it to Jason.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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M
y phone rang the following day just after I'd finished dropping off Brian. I was on my way to a decorator fabric store Adelia had recommended. I glanced at the screen: Tess. I pulled the car to the side of the road and answered the phone.

“Maggie, I'm so sorry about yesterday. I didn't want to put you off. I've carved out some time this morning and wondered if you'd like to walk the dogs.”

“I'm doing some errands. If I don't get them done, I'll be holding up Adelia's schedule. Would you be willing to meet later this morning? Maybe ten thirty at Starbucks?”

“Great! See you then.”

Tess must still be rushed. By the time I said goodbye, she'd disconnected. It was one of the fastest conversations she and I had ever had. But it made sense—we were getting together shortly. Anything we had to talk about could wait.

The fabric store I visited was a treat for the eyes and fertilizer for ideas I didn't have time to put into action. Steeling myself against distractions, I found likely samples for curtains and cushions. I plunked down a deposit for three sample books and made an appointment to have a sales rep measure for curtains and suggest hardware options.

I finished more quickly than I expected, so I drove straight to Starbucks and found a table in the shade. I ordered a medium latte, a spinach-cheese croissant, and a giant cup of water for Belle. Belle slurped. I sipped and pulled out my yellow pad to examine my lists while I waited for Tess.

I needed to ask her about Pauline and Dennis. Were they benign oddballs or as volatile as they seemed? And how did Tess and Teddy's fingerprints get on the soda cans at school and in my basement? Had they been in our house? Did they know Javier? If so, why hadn't Tess told me?

If Tess had known Javier Hernandez and neglected to tell me, what else might she be hiding? What else might she know? And who else might have known him and also neglected to tell me? I needed to start finding out more about him. I shivered and savored the comforting warmth of my coffee cup. I hated the idea that someone might have murdered an elderly man and gotten away with it.

“Maggie!” Tess called from the doorway of Starbucks, waving and making hand motions that seemed to indicate she'd get her coffee and then join me.

“No Mozart today?” I asked as Tess plopped purse, coffee cup, and keys on the table and dropped into the chair opposite me.

“Nope. Not in the BMW and not with clients. I think Belle's been wearing him out. He's at home, asleep with his head under the couch looking like he's nursing a hangover.”

Belle's tail thumped at the sound of her name.

“I'm sorry about yesterday,” Tess said. “You sounded like you needed to talk. What's up?”

“I feel like I need an anthropologist to decrypt the local culture,” I said, shaking my head. “I just don't get some of these people.”

“Ahh. Which people?”

“Pauline Windsor and Dennis DeSoto, for starters.”

Tess laughed. “Pauline is harmless. She has no filter on her mouth, a bit of an entitlement complex, and can be self-centered. Err, not self-centered exactly . . .”

Tess took a sip of her coffee and I told her about how Pauline berated me on the first day of school and said I'd stolen her parking space.

“What an introduction to Orchard View,” she said, shaking her head. “Like I said, she's not self-centered exactly—she's always drumming up money for various charities and she'll take on projects that everyone else has refused. It's more like once she's involved in a project it becomes the most important thing in the world, and she's astonished that other people might have other things to do.”

“And the parking space?”

“She bought the right to park there in a silent-auction fund-raiser when her oldest child was at the middle school. It was meant to be a six-month permit, but she's staked a permanent claim.”

“Can she do that?”

“No, but we let her because she takes on the really nasty volunteer projects and raises a ton of money.”

“Okay, I get it. Don't park there unless you want to take over Pauline's volunteer responsibilities.”

“Exactly.”

“And Dennis?”

“Oh boy,” said Tess. She leaned back in her chair, took a sip of her coffee, and looked around to see whether anyone was in earshot. There was no one near us, but she leaned forward, lowered her voice, and whispered.

“That whole DeSoto family is a piece of work,” she said. “I'd tread carefully.”

“Why?”

“The DeSoto family is the closest thing Orchard View has to an aristocracy. Their family goes back to the days of the Spanish dons and land grants from the king. They used to own all of the land on the west side of Interstate 280 between Stanford and Cupertino. Even now, the DeSoto family members are the biggest landowners in Orchard View. They're generous to the community, though. Dennis's brother Umberto runs that foundation I told you about. His sister is on the board at the children's hospital. Colleges and universities all over California have DeSoto buildings.” Tess stared into the distance. “There's something, though . . .”

“What kind of something?”

“In the last six months or so, Dennis has changed. Normally, he's a big presence at school and town-council meetings. It's like he gets a kick out of thinking that you can't plan a project or run a meeting without him.” She paused for a moment, leaning back in her chair. “You know how every high school has a kid who tries to be in every yearbook picture? That's Dennis. He's always got his picture in the local paper: breaking ground, cutting a ribbon, presenting a check, shaking hands with a dignitary. Dennis is the king of the grip-and-grin photograph.”

“But you said something changed?”

Tess nodded. “Last spring, he was late to a bunch of meetings. This fall, he's missed meetings completely. I heard that his oldest son was in trouble and maybe ran away from home, but it was hushed up. It was one of those rumors that comes and goes too quickly for most people to notice. I'd forgotten about it until now.”

“I remember that when we met at Elaine's, Dennis kind of blew in and then blew right back out again.”

“Exactly. That never would have happened a year ago. He would have come in and taken charge of the meeting.”

“What do you think changed?” I asked.

“I'm not sure. It could be almost anything. It's a big family—very proud and very secretive. Someone could be sick. Someone's business could be in trouble. It's impossible to say. They stick together, the DeSotos. Dennis was a year ahead of me in school, and one of his sisters was two years behind me, so I didn't know them very well. But Umberto was in my husband Patrick's class. Patrick always uses Umberto as an example when he's talking to Teddy about how to shut down bullying.”

“Does this Umberto have a driver and ride around in a big SUV?” I asked. “I saw someone like that outside Flora's shop. She called him Umberto.”

“One and the same. He was arrested for driving under the influence a few years ago, but I think he likes the look of being important enough to have a driver. He still likes to throw his weight around.”

Belle scrambled to her feet as if she'd just realized we were entertaining. She pushed her nose into Tess's lap. Tess laughed and rubbed Belle behind the ears.

“Once a bully, always a bully?” I asked. “Do you think Umberto could still be terrorizing people?” I thought of how afraid of him Flora had been when he drove down the alley in his intimidating car. She hadn't wanted to talk about it, but she'd been terrified to the point of shaking. He'd seemed like an okay guy to me, but at the time I didn't know he had connections to anything else.

“Maybe,” said Tess. “Like I said, tread carefully. If he
is
still a bully, he might be dangerous. If what Patrick says is true, he had a mean streak that went beyond pranks and harassment.”

Tess took another sip of her coffee and shifted the subject away from Umberto. “You said you'd talked to a bunch of people. Who else is on your list to psychoanalyze?”

I started to protest, saying I was just trying to get a sense of who was who, but then I recognized Tess's teasing for what it was.

“I talked to Elaine, and she suggested that I consider everyone a suspect, even her. But I can't imagine Elaine killing someone. Or nailing a squirrel to the wall.”

Tess shuddered. “That whole squirrel thing creeped me out even more than the possible murder. It makes me sound callous, but think about it. At least on TV, when there's a death, there's a motive. Something happens that leads a damaged person to believe that the only option open to them is arranging someone's death. But killing a squirrel? What did a squirrel ever do? And you've got to stalk one in order to kill it. You could hardly claim a squirrel killing was a crime of passion or revenge.”

I laughed although Tess was right. It wasn't funny. It was disturbing.

“What about Stephen?”

“
Stephen?
”

“Well, Elaine said to look at everyone.”

“Okay, she's right.” Tess continued stroking Belle's ears, and Belle was nearly groaning with pleasure, her eyes half closed. “Stephen . . .”

“Would he kill to protect Jason?”

“Maybe, if Jason's life was at stake. But honor is a pretty big deal to him. I think if he'd killed someone he would admit it and take the consequences.”

“What else might make him angry?”

“Anyone who didn't respect the contribution those military dogs have made,” she said. “He works so hard with them.”

She tapped the side of her coffee cup with her index finger. “Probably the angriest I've seen him was when he was working with me and Mozart before I adopted him. Stephen wanted to make sure that Mozart and I were a good match and that I took my responsibilities seriously. We were talking and Mozart was sniffing at some bushes. Miss Harrier came out of nowhere, hit Mozart over the head with a newspaper, and told Stephen to keep his scruffy dogs and their stinking poop off of school grounds. Stephen turned, I dunno, purple? And then went pale. He called Mozart to heel, took on that extreme military honor-guard posture, and in a very low, very quiet voice he told Miss Harrier that Mozart was a decorated war hero and deserved her utmost respect.”

“Oh, God. What happened then?”

“He said he hoped he would never hear her disrespect a veteran again. He clipped Mozart to the leash and the two of them marched off with military precision. And Miss Harrier was speechless. Literally. She walked back to her office without saying a word. She treated Stephen very carefully after that.”

“So you don't think she'd do anything else to make him angry enough to kill?”

“Not knowingly,” Tess said. “But . . . no, I don't see it. Stephen has said he saw too much warrantless killing in Afghanistan. This is a hard thing to say, but I honestly believe he'd kill himself before he'd kill someone else.”

“Which brings up the suggestion of suicide in Miss Harrier's case. Was she the same way?”

Tess ran her hand through her hair. “I don't know. Miss Harrier was an extremely difficult person and difficult to get to know. She was prickly. You didn't want to get too close.”

None of my questions had uncovered anything to move the investigation forward. Should I mention the fingerprints to Tess? Jason and Stephen hadn't told me to keep the information from her, but on TV, the detectives always held something back from the suspects, and letting that information out damaged their ability to make an arrest.

I picked at the lid of my coffee cup. I was being ridiculous. Tess could not be involved in any murder.

“Tess,” I began. “I talked to Stephen. He says they've identified fingerprints that showed up at both my house and in Miss Harrier's office. They may prove a link between the two crime scenes, but they don't make a lot of sense . . .”

I felt awkward, as if I were accusing Tess of not one crime, but two. And not only Tess. Teddy's fingerprints were in all the same places Tess's were. I tried to think how to continue without damaging our friendship.

I needn't have worried. Tess got a text message on her phone, glanced at it, drained her coffee cup, gathered up her purse and keys, and smoothed her skirt. As usual, her business came before mysteries, murder, and gossip.

“I'm sure they'll figure it out,” Tess said. “Orchard View PD is small, but the best. Sorry, Maggie. Got to go. Are we still on for Monday with the dogs?”

I nodded, uncertain whether to feel happy that her departure had saved me from continuing a difficult line of questioning, or frustrated because Tess had dodged questions to which I still needed answers.