Mix-up in Miniature (5 page)

I thought how I’d been on my own in the years since Ken died, and essentially alone during his two-year illness. Ken’s sister, Beverly, had been a great help, as was nurse Linda and all my friends, but at the end of the day, I was by myself and responsible for myself. I’d become used to it.

When Henry first came into my life, I resisted his solicitousness, but I was finding it easier every day to accept his steady, caring presence. I hoped I’d brought half as much to his life.

“Okay,” I said, enjoying Henry’s surprised look.

“Wow, just like that?”

I kissed his cheek, patted his nearly bald head, and prepared to slap a condition on my acquiescence. He gave me a look that said he expected nothing less.

“Just like that, but I need to make a stop on the way.”

“You want to go home and change?”

“Not exactly.”

Dum, ta da dum, ta da dum, ta da dum.

A call from Maddie on my marching-band cell phone.

I considered not taking it, but I knew Maddie’s persistence and I didn’t want to hear marching tunes all evening. One of these days I was going to learn how to silence my ringer. If she’d teach me.

“Hi, sweetheart. Lucky you, hanging around an ice cream shop. And on a school night.”

Maddie blew a raspberry as only an eleven-year-old could. “Uncle Henry made me come. I wanted to hear about Uncle Skip’s new case. It must have been a case, right? The way you were talking.”

“You’ll hear about it soon enough.”

“Aunt Kay says she might have to do another errand but I think she’s stalling. Can we come back now?”

“Don’t forget to pick up Sadie’s double chocolate for Aunt Beverly in case she comes by.”

“Now you’re stalling, Grandma. Nuts!”

I couldn’t resist. “No nuts, just plain chocolate sauce for me.”

I heard an involuntary laugh. “Okay, okay.”

Oh, dear. A
nuts
followed by a double
okay
. My poor granddaughter. These were standby expressions she’d abandoned a while ago. That she was reverting to her younger self was a sure sign of stress.

And I was about to make it worse.

“Let me talk to Aunt Kay, please, sweetheart.”

I heard Maddie’s loud, meaningful groan, then Kay’s greeting.

“I have a big favor to ask, Kay,” I said. I looked at Henry to be sure he was listening also, since this was the condition I was placing on letting him drive me around town. “I know you’re anxious to get back to your office—”

“Not anymore. Bill called to say the deal’s settled.
Ta da
. I married a genius. He’s on his way home. What do you need?”

“I’m going to coax your dad into taking me on an errand. You can come home anytime but, sorry to say, you’ll have to deal with Maddie when she finds out we’re not here.”

Kay laughed. “It’s a good thing I’ve had practice with the little blond clone here. We’ll be fine.”

How had I managed to find a second unbeatable family?

When
I
returned
from a quick freshening up, Henry had on his leather jacket and held his keys in his hand.

“Let’s go,” he said, holding out one of my warm coats that I left at his house for emergencies. Another small advance in the mutual domesticity that had evolved within the past few months.

“If you don’t mind, I think I have time for an errand before we head for the police station,” I began.

“I know. I figured we’d be able to brush up on our Spanish on the way to the Heights.”

“How did you know?”

He gave me a sideways look. “When are you going to realize how wonderfully predictable you are?”

“I need to pay my respects to my friend’s family.”

“Of course you do,” Henry said, his expression telling me he was aware of my full agenda.

I also had to find and talk to Corazón.

In my mind I was on this mission for Maddie as much as for myself. Neither her parents nor I were happy about the fact that she was so captivated by law enforcement, relishing “cases,” a word she’d picked up when she’d barely reached the age of reason and had loved ever since.

Her favorite trip by far in recent years was not to one of the many California theme parks we’d taken her to at great expense. No, her dream trip had been to the Lincoln Point police building for a tour Skip had arranged. The treat, complete with snacks in the officers’ lounge, was part of a bargain she’d made when her computer skills helped him on a case.

The best strategy to secure a gun-free future for my granddaughter was for me to clear up the part of Skip’s case that I was directly involved with and then withdraw, taking Maddie with me.

Thanks to my nephew’s stubbornness, I never got to tell him about the argument I’d overheard between Varena and her nonexistent brother and another man. With any luck, the police would find the brother, determine what the fight was about, and solve her murder quickly.

For the rest, I hoped the library auction would benefit from one midsize Tudor given in Varena Young’s memory.

A few small details to send the police in the right direction, and I was done. Then there’d be no case for Maddie or me.

“Corazón Cruz, be warned,” Henry said as we buckled our seat belts.

I couldn’t have said it better. His accent was impeccable.

—

The
Robert Todd Heights visitors’ list hadn’t been updated since I’d visited this afternoon, so we had no problem at the checkpoint. Henry drove his white SUV along the perimeter of the properties and into Varena’s semicircular driveway where my own car had been only a few hours ago. Several other vehicles dotted the blacktop area now, a couple of which I recognized from the Lincoln Point PD fleet.

The stately ambience had been adulterated with crime scene tape and a uniformed officer. I’d expected this scenario and wasn’t too worried about its cramping my style. Between the large pool of ALHS graduates who’d been my students before they entered the police academy, and the number of Skip’s colleagues who’d benefited from my tins of ginger cookies, I had many friends among the local law enforcement community.

As we pulled up closer to the front door, I saw the first good omen—indeed the officer on duty was one of my former students, Renee Hirsch. When I saw her sashaying back and forth along the path, begging for a visit from an old, beloved teacher, I knew things were going my way.

I tapped lightly on the side window of the SUV as a way of pointing her out to Henry.

“Class of 2000,” I said. “Not the most insightful student, but she wrote a very good paper on how the Great Depression impacted Steinbeck’s female characters. A solid B-plus.”

I knew that Henry, who’d taught shop at ALHS as many years as I’d taught English, would understand my shorthand and wouldn’t be surprised that I remembered a thirty-ish alum.

“Kids?” he asked, trying to help me reconnect with her.

I thought back. “I’ve got it. What’s that sport where they hit a ball that’s sitting on a post?”

“T-ball. Go for it.”

“Thanks.” I opened the door to step out of his car.

“What do you want from me?” Henry asked.

“I’d rather you stay here for now,” I said.

“I’ll just walk around a bit so they know you have backup.”

“Six-shooter drawn?” I asked.

“Whatever you need.”

It was what I had come to expect.

I got out of the car and began another journey to Varena’s front door, this time with a heavy heart.

Except for the sound of the wind, which had picked up considerably since this afternoon, it was deadly quiet on the hilltop. Traffic noises from the streets below were barely a whisper and the birds and the beasts that lived in the surrounding woods seemed to have retired early this evening, perhaps in honor of the recently, dearly departed.

I pulled my coat close and made my way to Officer Hirsch. I wondered who owned the vehicles that weren’t unmarked Lincoln Point PD inventory. I knew very little about cars but I could tell spanking new from old and weathered, and ordinary hood ornaments from high end. I was back in top-of-the-line country.

My eyes were drawn to the east side of the house where I knew the Morleys’ elegant miniature home was situated. I remembered one of the last things I’d seen before the fight broke out upstairs—place settings with delicate eggcups that, according to local miniaturists’ lore, had been painted with a one-haired brush. Although those details seemed trivial now, I wished I were returning to see more of the dollhouse’s treasures. I wished their owner were alive and vibrant in her red dress, as she had been this afternoon.

“Officer Hirsch,” I said with a tiny salute, as Renee, all five-three of her, started toward me.

“Hey, Mrs. Porter?” she said, surprise and a touch of student-teacher intimidation in her voice, as if I’d come to collect much-overdue homework.

It never failed that students reverted to their classroom days and attitudes when they saw me, as if tests were never really over and a teacher could pull a grade and lower it, revoking a diploma, no matter how much time had passed. Over the years, the phenomenon had come in handy.

“Nice to see you, Renee. I read about your son’s team taking the T-ball championship. That must have been pretty exciting.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks. He takes after his father. I told him to go pro and make it possible for his parents to live up here.”

“Not a happy place now, though,” I said.

“I know.” Renee took off her hat and swung it to encompass the Rockwell Estate, her expression turning serious. “Awful thing, huh?”

“Yes, I was here just this afternoon, visiting Ms. Young.”

“I heard that.”

Of course she had. I took a deep, sad breath. “I was hoping I could have just a minute to pay my respects.”

I waved in the general direction of the yellow tape, as if that flimsy piece of plastic, and not police department protocol, were all that stood between me and my friend’s grieving family.

“I don’t see why not, Mrs. Porter. M.E., evidence people, everybody’s gone anyway. Even your nephew, the Skipper.”

How well I knew. “It would mean so much if I could make a short visit with anyone who’s available.”

“Tell you what, go right up and give a quick knock. I’ll be over there a ways if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Renee.”

High school teachers’ salaries were low, but you couldn’t beat the perks.

—

For
the second time today, Laura Overbee answered my knock. She was wearing a black sweater set this time, clearly following the protocol for mourning, and she wasn’t pleased to see me.

“Mrs. Porter,” she said, laboriously, as if I’d been trying to sell her a set of household brushes. She was understandably unaware how easily I could be dismissed. “Did you leave something behind?”

My first thought, which I held back, was,
Yes, I forgot to take the midsize Tudor my friend Varena wanted me to have.

“I wondered if I could please speak to Ms. Cruz for just a minute?”

Forceful as ever, was I.

A heavy sigh from the much-beleaguered Ms. Overbee. “This is not a good time. I don’t know whether you’ve heard, but Ms. Young has passed away.”

Ugh. Why hadn’t I thought of expressing condolences first?

“Yes, and I was so sorry,” I said, a little late. “It’s certainly a great loss for all of us.”

“Indeed,” said the stiff Ms. Overbee, who was too young for that usage.

She moved the door a few inches closer to its closed position. I forced myself to remember that this gatekeeper was young enough to be my daughter. She was slightly shorter than I was. Only my diffidence made her seem to tower over me.

For courage, I turned slightly to see Henry, bigger than both of us, a mere few yards away, and Renee a little behind him, armed.

I steeled myself, leaned in and wedged my elbow, laden with my clunky purse as leverage, into the doorway.

“I just need a few minutes with Ms. Cruz and I’ll be on my way.” I waved my hand in the direction of the lowlands, to where I would happily retreat after my brief interview with a member of the household staff.

Ms. Overbee’s jaw tightened. I could tell she was struggling to maintain the decorum fitting her role. “Ms. Cruz is not here.”

“Please, it’s very important that I talk to her, Ms. Overbee. Can you tell me where I can find her or when she’ll be back?”

Suddenly, we were not alone. Through the narrow crack Ms. Overbee allowed me, I saw a tall man come up behind her.

“Trouble here, Laura?” he asked. His voice was deep and carried an air of authority.

“Nothing I can’t handle, Charles,” she said, her flustered behavior not matching her words. “This is Varena’s friend, Mrs. Porter.”

He moved her aside and opened the door, showing his full height, eye level with me, but with higher and whiter hair. This must be the man Skip had mentioned as Varena’s financial manager.

“Mrs. Porter, Charles Quentin here.”

I took his hand and gave it a quick shake before he knew what was happening. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, in the manner of a Varena Young Regency romance heroine.

“Yes.” He let out a grunt that sounded more like confusion than annoyance, but I knew he was on the edge. “If you must know, Mrs. Porter, Ms. Cruz is no longer in service here.”

It sounded as though the Rockwell Estate had disconnected Corazón Cruz, as if she were a telephone number.

“Can you tell me how to reach her? It’s very important.”

Mr. Quentin—his bearing inspired me to think of him as Lord Quentin—sized me up. What exactly he was assessing, I didn’t know. IQ? Threat level? Whatever the numbers, I must have measured up because he invited me into the foyer.

Barely.

He dismissed Laura with a wave and stood with me at the foot of the grand double staircase. No invitation to sit in the music room as Ms. Overbee had granted me this afternoon.

“You were visiting earlier today, Mrs. Porter. Is that right?”

“Yes, I was.”

“We’re very sorry you had to be here for this tragedy. I hope you didn’t hear anything or were witness to anything that would upset you?”

“No, not at all. I left about a half hour before—” I paused and changed tack. “Ms. Young was about to give me—”

“Ms. Young was very generous and gave to many charities. I’m sure yours is listed and will be taken care of once the estate is settled.”

“But, I—”

“Now please excuse us while we deal with family matters.”

One more try. “I would very much like to get in touch with Corazón Cruz,” I said. “And then I won’t bother you again.”

“We don’t expect any further contact with her.”

“Perhaps you have an address where you’ll send her severance check?”

“Thank you for stopping by, Mrs. Porter. Have a good evening.” Charles Quentin led me to the door, his hand on my elbow. He closed the door on me with a smooth, firm motion.

First there’s no brother, now no contact with Corazón?

As I stood on the wrong side of the enormous door with its lion’s head knocker, the wind whipped around my head. I could have sworn I heard an owl in the distance. It was all too easy to think of Heathcliff and the moors. I nearly laughed.

Had I wandered into the land where Lord and Lady Morley dwelled?

—

Henry
drove off the Rockwell property and stopped at a lookout on the road home. The night sky was beautiful over the mostly dark hills, providing some comfort after a disheartening hour. No better place for us to sit and try to make sense of what I’d just been told.

I put my hand to my forehead, frustrated with myself. “Why didn’t I think of asking Ms. Overbee or Mr. Quentin about Varena’s brother?”

“From what you’ve said, neither one of them was inclined to answer any questions anyway,” Henry said. “Look at the bright side. Neither one claimed that Corazón Cruz doesn’t exist.”

“True, but small consolation.”

“Maybe she ran away because she killed the lady,” Henry suggested.

“Or she witnessed the murder and is afraid for her own life.”

“Is she illegal?” Henry asked. “She might have split knowing there’d be all kinds of law enforcement snooping around.”

“I can’t imagine Varena using anyone who wasn’t here legally. She was too public a figure.”

“Many a public figure has been brought down by just such an oversight,” Henry reminded me.

“Good point. But wouldn’t she have run sooner? Corazón has already been interviewed by Skip.”

“The heavy-accent incident.”

I made a face, close to one Maddie might have put on. “So he says. Maybe I can persuade him to give me her contact information since apparently he has no intention of using it.”

“Another possibility is that Corazón was Varena Young’s favorite and once she was gone, her kids fired the lady. For all we know, they fired all the current help, to bring in their own. It happens.”

I nodded. Worth thinking about, though it seemed to me that would be pretty fast action. “Skip said Varena’s daughter was there this evening and they were waiting for her son. I wish I’d met her children. Alicia and Adam.”