I burbled, “We’ll head off to our suite now. And we thank you again for that.”
It was hard not to collapse laughing in the elevator, but I managed to look like a normal person until we reached the ninth floor, opened the door to our suite and let the laughter out.
“I won’t sleep a wink tonight anyway,” I said to Smiley, five minutes later, shortly before stepping into my bedroom, keeling over on the bed and slipping from consciousness.
It had been quite a day.
CHAPTER NINE
Use what you can find and find what you can use.
—The Kelly Rules
“BAD NEWS,” SMILEY said, knocking on the door. I opened my eyes with a start. Like every morning it took me a moment to figure out where I was.
“What?”
“No one got in when we were sleeping. So we’re no closer to figuring out the mystery.”
“That’s too bad and I suppose they didn’t murder us in our sleep either?”
“Correct.”
“Well then, Officer Dekker, I suppose we have no choice but to drown our sorrows in breakfast. Let me get ready. Why don’t we call room service and you can show me the photo album without anyone else getting a look at it, in the unlikely possibility that’s why our rooms were trashed.”
He scowled. “Room service? That sounds—”
“Decadent? Yes, it does, but in this case, also sensible. Anyway, it can be my treat. Eggs Benedict and OJ? It’s supposed to be a specialty at La Perla.”
A half hour later, we were sniffing the sea air and eyeing the trolley that the room service waiter had maneuvered onto the balcony. I love the decadence of room service and this hotel did a beautiful job, from the snowy linen napkins to the large pot of coffee and the gerbera daisy in the little vase. We were instructed to take our seats on the balcony while the server uncovered our plates with a flourish. The Bennies were perfect with Canadian bacon and English muffins, the eggs medium, the way we like them. The Hollandaise sauce was excellent, buttery and rich with just a hint of lemon. Everything had survived the trip to the ninth floor. The meal came with a lovely fresh fruit salad—melon, orange and strawberries—and memorable sourdough toast with butter and jam.
We had no complaints about this meal, even though toward the end Smiley seemed to be getting a bit morose again.
“We agreed. No more secrets. Tell me what’s bothering you now.”
“It’s just that my grandmother called when you were in the shower. She’d like me to go see her again today.”
“You must go see your grandmother again. I realize how important this reunion is.”
“And she’d like you to come too. I’m not sure that’s how you want to spend your vacation.”
“Well, it is now. She’s part of the San Francisco experience. Are you going to waste that sourdough toast? Because I’m still here.”
He laughed. “It’s all yours and I guess you’ll have plenty of opportunity to walk it off, but first we’re going to the International Spy Shop. It’s not far from here. Let’s see what’s new in bug sweepers.”
“Oooh, and here I thought we’d be unscrewing lightbulbs and checking behind smoke detectors and maybe taking off the trim . . .”
“I’ve already looked everywhere. These are modern times, Jordan. Let’s see what we can turn up.”
A half hour later we were at the cashier of the International Spy Shop with a small laser bug detector and a small batch of cameras ready for purchase. I loved this shop. My uncles would have approved of the detour, provided they were on the right side of the camera, if you get my drift.
The equipment set Smiley back a few hundred dollars but the damage could have been much more worse. Anyway, he was in a Nick Charles extravagant kind of mood, even though it was the wrong town. There were many other types of detectors and some ran into the thousands, but Smiley said we had a good chance of finding any of the simple types. “We’ll make do with what we have. After all, our burglar and my assailant weren’t the most sophisticated of criminals—they didn’t care if we knew they’d been there.”
“No kidding.”
“If someone is checking out our room, they won’t be expecting this.”
I had invested in a miniature video camera, which I thought would capture anyone who was prowling around in our living room, and one for the bedroom too. And I’d found an adorable and chic little pen camera that I thought Uncle Kev’s special friend, Cherie, would just love. Cherie hadn’t been on my gift list until the moment I saw the perfect item for her.
We left the shop with a spring in our steps, laughing and nudging each other.
It was a great start to the day as Smiley installed his unit in the living room and I happily placed mine behind the thermostat in my bedroom.
If someone managed to get in there again, we’d have a record of it.
* * *
WE SPENT SOME time strolling on the Embarcadaro, soaking up the atmosphere and walking off the Bennies. Unfortunately, the stroll and the air on the waterfront made us hungry. We fixed that with the gelatos we’d missed the night before. Smiley went off on a Hammett tour and I fiddled about in fun little shops. It was a rough life.
* * *
THE INVITATION TO Gram’s was for a late lunch: a crab casserole and green salad. Very nice.
I played with the little dog, whistled to the cockatiels and avoided the mean parrot while they chatted. “Come here,” it said. I didn’t.
“Pet, could I get you to take care of some business for me while you’re here?” Gram asked.
Smiley said, “Name it.”
Perhaps he spoke too soon because Gram had a prepared list that involved him dropping papers off here, getting signatures there and even going to her bank to sign documents that added him to her accounts.
“It’s all set up. You only need to turn up and sign. And I’ve arranged a quick meeting with my financial advisor, just to introduce yourself. I’m not so sure about him and I’d like you to give me your opinion as a police officer.”
Quite the list. I got the impression that Gram had been waiting a long time to get these things sorted out.
* * *
WITH GRAM PLANNING a nap and Tyler on his errands, I was off the hook and I was itching to continue exploring the city. So everyone would be happy. I might be happier than Smiley because I would be having fun and not doing boring tasks. But I had a nagging bit of worry about Gram. I didn’t know why. She’d obviously done just fine without us all these years. But maybe it was Zoya’s nervous ways. And my own nerves were jangled over the things that had happened to us since we’d arrived. I knew it was silly.
On my way out, I spotted the television flickering in the kitchen. Zoya had her TV addiction, I’d already heard. A local news item about a murder was on the screen and I stopped in my tracks. A photo of a familiar face flashed across the screen. There in better days, the victim looked horribly familiar. I knew those twinkly dark eyes and that dramatic hair with the silver streak. Still, somehow I wasn’t surprised that it had been a mug shot.
Zoya switched the channel just as the announcer intoned, Police said that the victim—
“Get the channel back, please!”
“Vat? I don’t know vat channel. Too late. Go avay.”
It was too late. And I did go away, but I had a heavy heart as I thought that perhaps the twinkly Farley Tso might be no more. A mistake, I told myself. Not at all likely that it was Farley. There are plenty of handsome men in late middle age with splendid manes of hair. And there was one way to find out.
* * *
AS I LEFT Gram’s, I was happy to spot the pretty young neighbor across the street, sporting a new active wear outfit, aqua and gray. She was either heading into or out of her home.
She lit up when she saw me and waved. I crossed the street (not that easy mid-block) to chat.
She gushed. “It’s so nice that you’re moving in. I told Michael—that’s my husband—and he’s so happy too. Everyone on the block is at least a hundred. So, no kids of your own yet?”
“What? Oh. I’m not—”
“I know you’re not a hundred. I can’t wait until you’re here.”
“I’m not moving in.”
Her lovely luminous face fell. I felt like I’d told some innocent child there was no Santa Claus. “You’re not? But you and your hus—”
“Not my husband.”
“Sorry. Partner.”
“No. Not even partner. Well, maybe, it’s early days. Anyway, we’re just here on vacation. We’re visiting his grandmother. She lives here.” I pointed up the stairs.
“Oh.”
“It’s a really happy visit for my, um, friend. And his gram can’t be a day over eighty-five.”
She giggled. “Better than the rest of them then. Well, it’s too bad. We just moved in last week. I was looking forward to having friends on this block. And Harry would have liked little friends too.”
“Harry?”
She rolled her eyes. “The little beast was up every hour all night long. We are bushed. And now he’s quiet.” She pointed to the stroller where Harry was covered up and sleeping off another awake night. He’d be waiting a long time before I provided him with playmates.
“Well,” I said, “I hope you find some friends in the neighborhood soon.”
“Hmm. It can be quite boring.”
“You’re very friendly. I’m sure it won’t be long.”
“By the way. I’m Sierra.”
“Jordan.”
“How long are you here, Jordan?”
“Another four days.”
“Oh well.” She seemed to lose all interest in me. I figured maybe I wasn’t worth the investment of time as I wasn’t moving into one of these multimillion-dollar properties. Easy come, easy go, as Uncle Mick would say. She yanked up the stroller and prepared to open the glossy black door with the antique brass knocker.
But I had an idea. A fairly good one with no downside that I could see.
I said, “It must be so difficult taking care of a child all the time. I had something I wanted to ask you but—”
“More like so boring, but anyway . . .” She lifted her perfectly sculpted eyebrows in question.
“Right. I just wondered. We are a bit worried about Gram, that’s Tyler’s grandmother, of course.”
“Only eighty-five,” she said.
“Yes, but we are worried about who might be trying to influence her and all that. Would you . . . oh really, I shouldn’t ask.”
“Would I what?”
Of course, she’d said she was bored.
“Just keep an eye on the place.”
Her mouth turned down. From our previous conversations, I gathered that old people were not her cup of tea. “You mean visit?”
“No, no, no, of course not. Just observe.”
“Well, I’d like to help but I don’t really . . . well, I can’t be tied down. I have obligations. Harry and Michael and other things.”
“Of course you do. I shouldn’t have asked.” What obligations? I thought. To get those perfect nails done? To jog to the gym? To think about finding a nanny for Harry?
She said, “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t give it a moment’s thought. I was out of line to even ask. Forget I mentioned it.”
I waved and stepped away to start my walk to the cable car.
“Wait,” she called out.
I turned, not wishing to utter another batch of groveling apologies.
“What exactly would be involved?”
By now I was feeling ridiculous. “Nothing really. Just keep an eye on anyone coming and going.”
“That wouldn’t be all that often really.”
“True. And I’d only ask if you were comfortable doing it.”
“I see. Because it is kind of spying on the neighbors.”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way. I thought it’s more like keeping an eye on a vulnerable”—I paused, not wanting to say “old lady” because I knew that wasn’t a selling point—“and charming person.” The charming part was true and possibly the vulnerable part was too.
“Hmm.”
“Look, don’t worry about it. I was out of line even suggesting it. I just thought you could give me a call if someone who wasn’t the housekeeper or me or Tyler came to the house.”
“Tyler is your partner? The one I met when you were walking up the hill?”
“Yes, sorry. I guess I never mentioned his name.”
“I know what he looks like, so cute with those baby blues and the smile. But I’ve never seen the housekeeper.”
I described Zoya as kindly as I could in words that Sierra would appreciate “Dark red lipstick and nails, dark hair in a bun, very slender, well-dressed and with a tendency to wave her hands in the air. And shout.”
“Would there be any risk?”
Risk? What risk could there be letting your eye rest on someone just long enough to describe them and then calling me with that description?
“None,” I said with what I hoped was an air of gravitas. “Absolutely none whatsoever. Not a scintilla.” That was rather a bit of verbal overkill, but she seemed to buy it.
“That’s good,” she said.
“All I’d want would be for you to call or text me if—and it’s a big if—you saw something. You might say, um, write, ‘The postal carrier was here with something today,’ or whatever, from the safety of your own home, by phone. First of all, no one would be at all worried about you or suspicious of you.” I gave my biggest fake smile. Who knows why it was so fake when it was all true? “We’re just a bit worried that some people may be trying to intimidate her.”
“That’s awful.”
“Yes.”
“Who are they?”
“We don’t exactly know.”
“What do they look like?”
“There you have me. I have no idea what they look like. I don’t know why I’m worrying.” Of course, there had been no suggestion of anything wrong at Gram’s, but I worried that perhaps we might be bringing trouble to her. There was, after all, the photo album, which Smiley had returned at lunchtime. It was probably silly to connect these events, but for some reason I chose not to tell Sierra about the Prius, the cable car and the trashed room.
“I’ll do it.”
“There’s a good chance that you’ll never see a single human at that door and that will be fine too.”
“I guess you better give me your cell number before I change my mind.”
I jotted my number down on a paper, got Sierra’s and made a big show of thanking her before heading on my way.
“Thank you!”
Sierra was no kind of security system, but because I’d done something, I felt better.
* * *
I HAD JUST reached La Perla after a fun bit of exploration when my cell phone rang and Sierra’s breathless voice floated out.
“I see someone!”
“Who?” I realized that was a ridiculous question even before it was out of my mouth. How could Sierra know the answer?
“I’m not sure. Actually I have no idea. I mean, how would I know?”
“Silly me. Not sure why I said that.”
“Anyway, they went in!”
I barely stopped myself from shouting and managed to keep my voice calm. “Was it a man or a woman?”
“Two men, I think. It’s hard to tell sometimes.”
Really? “What did they look like?”
“Like ordinary people. Maybe thirtyish. Tall. Not too thin, kind of big . . .”
“And not too fat,” I interjected nervously.
“Well, this
is San Francisco.”
“True. Fair? Dark?”
“I couldn’t really tell. They had umbrellas and hats. And raincoats, like, you know, trench coats.”
Umbrellas as well as hats? Trench coats? If that wasn’t suspicious, I didn’t know what would be. And what thirtyish couple wore hats? Of course, this was, as we’d agreed, San Francisco so maybe trilbies or fedoras or were those no longer hip enough? Anyway, it all sounded like a B movie or maybe a scene from a Hammett page turner.
While we were talking, I was struggling into my denim jacket and desert boots using one hand. In case I had to leave in a hurry.
“Did the housekeeper turn them away?” That was my hope. Zoya to za rescue.
“I didn’t see the housekeeper.”
“Oh. Did they leave yet?”
“No. They just went in. The door opened but I didn’t see anyone behind it and they just disappeared inside.”
“No one answered? But you can see the door from your place, can’t you?”
“Oh sure, but I didn’t see anyone come to the door and I don’t think anyone was there. I mean why would the housekeeper be hiding?”
“Right. When was this, Sierra?”
“Just before I called you.”
“Great. Keep an eye on the house, and I’ll get up there and see what they want.”
Sierra’s voice rose. “What could they want? She’s a little old lady, isn’t she? It’s not like she could get into any trouble.”
What a foolish statement. Vera might technically qualify as a little old lady, but she got (and got me) into boatloads of trouble on a regular basis. The same might apply to Gram.
“I’m on my way.” I sprinted down the hotel corridor to the staircase and clattered down it, trying not to think about having a blanket tossed over my head. My head was thundering as I hit the ground floor and exploded into the foyer. The concierge looked up in surprise. “Taxi,” I said, “and it’s urgent.”
“Did you say urgent?” Sierra squeaked. Oops. She was still on the phone.
“No no. Just a cab. I’ll get there soon and check on her. Probably nothing at all.” I raced after the concierge, who had somewhat magically made a cab appear. These people had power.
The Hammett Hex Page 10