“Michael, did you call to harass me?”
I could hear the amusement in his voice. “Actually, I’ll be here awhile longer. I was going to offer to ride along the next time you have to do one in a vacant house.”
“I guess I’ll have humble pie with my coffee.”
“Have two helpings,” he offered.
I supposed I deserve that. “Listen, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something to do with Mrs. Jasper.”
He groaned. “I’d rather face a bunch of congressional investigators.”
I realized I hadn’t asked him about his trip to DC, and he said that when he got home he’d pick me up for a trip to Java Jolt to discuss it. He neatly sidestepped Mrs. Jasper, but I had no plans to let go of my idea about her having a possible motive.
That evening Scoobie came over and he and Aunt Madge and I played cards. She wiped both of us out in a game of hearts.
SCOOBIE WAS AT JAVA JOLT when we arrived there the next day. He said a polite hello and left, and Michael, perhaps reflecting on my anger at his earlier comments, had none. He had a lot to say about the accusations about his firm.
“The funny thing is, we weren’t one of the companies that withheld energy supplies from California to get higher prices. Of course,” he took a sip of coffee, “those firms had to pay a lot of that back.”
“Pay back to whom?” I asked.
“Ultimately, consumers.” I zoned out somewhat when he described the complexities of making that happen, and tuned in more fully when he started talking about his partners. “Apparently, they figured everyone was paying attention to the California energy crisis, and decided to overcharge for what we sold after that.”
“But you weren’t in on that,” I said.
He nodded. “But I was in charge of all in-house operations, and I hired the auditors every year. It never occurred to me to suspect what was going on, and I guess my partners hid it well enough that the auditors didn’t pick up on it.”
He shrugged. “Frankly, I’d gotten bored with all of it. If I’d been as involved in things as I should have been, I might have recognized what was going on, at least enough to dig deeper myself or point the auditors toward the mess. When I did start to figure it out, Mom was already sick and I just told my partners I wanted out.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Mom being sick made me think about health insurance, so I said all I wanted was a couple weeks or a month to buy some health insurance.”
“So that’s why you said you were leaving but hadn’t stepped down?” I asked.
He nodded. “It was really the chicken-shit approach. Mother urged me to report it, and I didn’t want to. Those guys were my friends.” He grimaced. “Used to be. That’s what we were talking about the night Elmira saw us at Newhart’s.” He stopped, as if trying not to tear up. “Mother’s death made me rethink some things.”
“Are you saying these DC investigator types didn’t spot all this on their own?”
He took another sip of his coffee. “I heard they had an anonymous tip.”
“OK, I won’t push.”
He raised his eyebrows. “But the bottom line is, the investigators don’t believe you were involved in the overcharge stuff, right?” I asked.
“Apparently one of my partners told the government investigators that. If I find out which one, I might offer to let him bunk with me when he gets out of prison.”
“Wow.” This was way beyond Robby’s level of malfeasance. “So, what do you do now?”
“I’ll go back to Houston and supervise things until they get sorted out.” He looked at me directly. “Want to spend some time in Houston?”
“I…don’t know about that.” I looked away for a moment, and then back at him. “I’m not sure we have a lot more in common now than we did in high school.”
It was his turn to look away. “Maybe,” he said, reaching for my hand, “we’d have more in common if we spent more time together.”
I felt the same surge of warmth that his touch had prompted in me before, and half of me wanted to pack up Jazz and go with that feeling. The other half figured I might just be back in Ocean Alley a couple months after that. “Maybe.”
He slowly released my hand, and his tone was more detached. “Not a very strong maybe.”
I shook my head. “It’s just, everything, and I mean all the stuff with Robby, too, is just so…new.”
“Am I pushing too hard?” A smile played at the corners of his mouth.
“Do you know how not to?”
He shrugged. “Probably not, but I do know some good things are worth waiting for.” I must have looked pleased at that, because he added, “But I’m not good at waiting too long.”
“Gee, why am I not surprised?” I stirred my coffee, not sure what to say next, so I opted for a complete change of topic. “I wanted to talk to you about Mrs. Jasper.”
His gesture was impatient. “You need to give the stuff about my Mother a rest, Jolie.”
“I would love to. I just…can’t.”
“Learn,” he said, shortly, and louder than what my Mother would have called an ‘inside voice.’
I noted Joe Regan look at us and leaned a bit closer to Michael. “Just hear me out. Please.”
He looked at his watch. “I have to leave in ten minutes to take my dad and Honey to the airport. You can have that much time.”
“Gee, thanks, sir.” Feeling that I should probably not irritate him too much, I launched into my thoughts about why Mrs. Jasper might want a larger share of his Mother’s estate, and how she could get it if Michael were guilty of Ruth’s murder. He listened, saying nothing.
I plowed on. “She once told me that her work with the church was ‘her life.’ What if she wanted a lot more money for those causes? What if she did go to the house that night?”
His look was skeptical. “And if that’s all true? It doesn’t prove,” he lowered his voice, “that she murdered Mother. Even if she was there the night before, she would have left. Someone was in there the next morning,” his voice tightened. “Someone stopped her breathing.” His voice caught and he stopped.
“I know,” I said, in my most gentle tone. “But what if she put something in your mother’s tea the night before, and then came back to see if it had killed her?”
His fingers drummed the table. “The key words are ‘came back in.’ I didn’t let her in, and the house was locked.”
“But the alarm was off. I’d bet any amount she had a key.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Mother would never have given her one.”
“What about when she helped her redo the den?”
He thought about that for a moment. “It just doesn’t seem likely.”
“But she could have,” I persisted. “Maybe to let in a delivery person, or…”
“Jolie, you’re grasping,” he was getting more irritated.
“We need a way to get her to admit she was there the night before, that’s a start.”
“Why would she do that?”
“That’s where you come in.” I had thought about this a lot since my time on the bathroom floor in that little house. “Tell her you want to talk to her about your Mother, you…”
He laughed. “I’ve spent the time since my Mother’s death avoiding her. You want me to call her?”
It took me five more minutes to get him to agree, but in the end, he said he would invite Mrs. Jasper over to take the shoeboxes of costume jewelry to the thrift shop, and ask her if she wanted a couple of pieces for herself. When she was there, he would mention that he had thought she was coming over that night, and ask her about his mother’s last evening. Finally, he would say he was collecting any keys neighbors and friends had, so there weren’t any outstanding when Arts Council moved in.
I told Michael I would walk back to Aunt Madge’s, and he left to pick up his father and Honey to go to the airport. In honor of convincing him to at least talk to Mrs. Jasper, I selected a chocolate-coated glazed donut and poured a second cup of coffee. Joe Regan grinned at me. “OK, Jolie, one free donut.” I stuck out my tongue at him.
It wasn’t long before I was aware that people were stealing furtive looks at me from time to time. I considered just standing up and announcing that yes, I was that Jolie Gentil, and no, I did not have a magnet on my back to attract trouble.
AUNT MADGE WAS FURIOUS that Michael had let me walk back to Cozy Corner alone. “What could have gotten into him?”
“Common sense. He knows I’m probably not too much of a target walking from Java Jolt to here in broad daylight.” When she jammed a teacup into her dish drainer and didn’t say anything, I walked up behind her and hugged her around the waist. “I have a better chance of being arrested for forgetting to take a pooper-scooper when I walk the dogs than of running into Pedone again.”
“That’s wishful thinking.”
It might have been, but it worked for me. I insisted she let me finish the lunch dishes and told her I was going over to Harry’s. She didn’t argue. Poor Aunt Madge. Her life was a lot simpler before I showed up.
En route to Harry’s I saw Scoobie walking along B Street, knapsack on his back, his head bowed against the wind. He accepted my offer of a ride to the library, but did not look too comfortable as he sat beside me in the front seat.
“You mad at me, or something?” I asked.
“Nope. Just wish you’d be more careful.”
“Honest, I think that guy was just trying to scare me.”
“What guy?” he asked.
Reading the paper was apparently not on Scoobie’s to-do list. I explained about Pedone, and he was upset. “You’ve got to stay away from that guy.”
Duh
. “I’m not looking for him. Besides, I thought you knew about it. What did you mean about being more careful?”
“I meant about that Riordan guy.”
I had to suppress my smile. “He’s not as dangerous as he looks.”
Scoobie grunted. “His kind never looks dangerous. They just suck the souls out of people around them with their stuck-up attitudes and penny loafers.”
I wasn’t about to tell him he made no sense, so I played along. “What about the penny loafers?”
“They walk all over you.”
I pulled up in front of the library and he got out. Before he shut the door he leaned back in. “You should watch out for the other guy, too.”
AS IF TO MAKE UP for sending me to Pedone, Lester had called with two more houses, both occupied, both in the popsicle district. Lester was hot, and interest rates were low. It was a good combination for appraisers.
I couldn’t do the houses for another day or two, so I drove by to look at them and then went to the courthouse to research their prior sales and some comps. As I was leaving the Register of Deeds Office, George Winters stopped me.
“What I want to know is, was your life this exciting in Lakewood, or did you just decide to spice it up after you moved here?”
He had his reporter’s notebook in his hand, so I nodded toward it and asked, in my most charming voice, “Are we on or off the record?”
He grinned. “We can be off the record.”
“Then I’ll be happy to tell you what you can do with your question.” I shoved open the courthouse door and started down the steps.
“Come on, Jolie. I know we got off on the wrong foot.” I kept going. “Okay. I’m sorry I wrote that article that implied you and Riordan were lovers.”
“Apology accepted,” I said.
“But, since you’re my sister and all, I thought I was in the loop.”
I stopped, hand on my car door. “Look, I’m sorry I used that name when I called Kenner.”
His laugh was more like a whoop. “I love it. You aren’t sorry you impersonated a reporter, just sorry you got caught.”
“In a nutshell, yes.”
As I turned back to open my car door he put his hand on it and opened it. “Listen, who was this guy last night? I mean, I got his name and past record from the police, but why was he after you?”
“My soon-to-be ex-husband owes him some money.”
“And so he’s after you?” He flipped open his notebook.
I slid into the front seat. “You agreed we were off the record.” I smiled as I pulled away, and it really looked as if he was about to throw the notebook at me.
MICHAEL HAD LEFT A message with Aunt Madge saying he’d had an unexpected call from DC and had to go back overnight. This annoyed me, as it meant that he wouldn’t be able to talk to Mrs. Jasper for a day or two. Patience is not one of my virtues.
When Aunt Madge was sitting with her guests during their four o’clock tea, I called Mrs. Jasper.
“Jolie, I’m glad you called back,” she gushed. “I was so worried when I read about you in the paper.”
“Thanks. Listen, I have a favor to ask.”
When she assured me she’d be delighted to help, I launched into my rehearsed script. Michael was wrapping up things at the house and wanted her to select a couple pieces of his mother’s costume jewelry for herself (this drew a gasp) and then take the rest to the church thrift store. He’d been called away unexpectedly, and I had foolishly left my key to his house inside it and locked the door on the way out earlier today. She had one, didn’t she?
There was a long pause before spoke. “A key? No. But…” She stopped again, then continued. “But if Michael hasn’t changed the security code on the side door near to the garage, we might be able to use it to get in.”
And all this time I had thought only about a key. There was only one door with a keypad. I had noted it during the appraisal, but it hadn’t registered as an entry point for the murderer. “That would be great. Shall we meet over there in half an hour?”