The Hammett Hex

by Victoria Abbott

  Still, in the interests of being objective and not ever being blinded by love again (long story for another time), I reluctantly wrote Tyler’s name on the list. I’d been fooled before, and even though I felt he was not “about money,” I had to keep an open mind.

  With a heavy heart, I wrote

  SMILEY

  on a card, although I realized that was showing my bias toward him. And I moved on quickly. Under his name on the card, I wrote:

  Inherit?

  Yes, it was silly, but fair’s fair. I put my own name there too.

  JORDAN.

  I had no connection to anything that was going on, except as victim of some close calls. Or at least if I had a connection, I had no idea what that link would be. I liked Gram, and I was not likely to benefit from her in any way, except through Tyler and the fact she made him happy.

  I went back to following the money.

  His parents might be bitter and possibly vicious, but presumably they weren’t in the will. Or were they? However, how would they even know one way or the other?

  I put

  TYLER’S PARENTS

  on the list.

  Under the heading I wrote:

  Inherit? Not likely, but possible.

  I could find no link to Gram’s money and any of the other suspects I’d identified. The hotel manager seemed an unlikely heir as did everyone on the cable car. I wrote

  No known link

  on each of their cards. The black Prius continued to be an unknown. I wrote

  Possible link???

  on that card.

  I stared at my random collection of cards and bit my lip.

  What about Zoya? I didn’t know for sure but Gram seemed rather fond of Zoya. And so there was a good chance that Zoya would stand to gain if something, say terminal, were to happen to Gram. I’d need to find out about that although I wasn’t sure how the conversation would go. If Zoya was favored in the will, say, a share—even a small share of what was probably a large estate—it might be in her interest to hire people to scare the old lady and to scare us off too. She hadn’t been so very badly injured in the invasion and being hurt was a good cover. It could throw us off the scent.

  There you go,

  ZOYA.

  You’re on the list.

  On her card I wrote,

  IN WILL? CHECK.

  And that was it. Or was it? Hadn’t Gram told Tyler, “We’ll have to invite your new cousins”?

  Who were these cousins? Were they the second husband’s grandkids? I had assumed they were the toddlers in the photos.

  Whoever and wherever they were, they not only stood to gain if something happened to Gram—say for instance she was scared to death by armed men—but also had something to lose when Smiley showed up to reconnect with Gram. Big time.

  It was obvious that Gram cared deeply for Tyler. Did the cousins know this too? Had they been told? Overheard? Maybe Zoya spilled the beans to them?

  I sat up straight. I was on to something now. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?

  The cousins could have hired those home invaders with the idea of shortening Gram’s life before any wills could be changed. That was a stretch, because I had no idea who was in Gram’s will now. I was pretty sure that Smiley wouldn’t have to be aware of being in the will for it to be valid.

  So, the cousins, then. Things were looking up. I liked suspecting them much more than Smiley.

  COUSINS

  went on the list, next to ZOYA and under WILL. I also gave them their own card. It was getting complicated.

  I had a few misgivings, though. Did the cousins search our hotel and tear up the room? Maybe they were hunting for that photo album that Gram gave to Tyler. That could make sense if there was something pertaining to them. But why attack me? Unless, it was to scare me away from San Francisco and have him follow me home. After all, they didn’t know either of us.

  I added

  Scare us away?

  to the COUSINS card.

  For sure, the cousins were looking more plausible.

  Not that I had the faintest idea what they actually looked like. Were they tall men with trench coats and stockings over their faces? Would I have seen them somewhere? Might they have been on that cable car? Or lurking in the hotel hallway? On the elevator? Or brandishing weapons?

  I stared at the cards for

  HOME INVADERS

  and the

  HOTEL ATTACKERS.

  For the first time I wondered if they could be the same people. I tried to remember what I’d noticed about them. Could they all be the cousins?

  Their motive, of course, was money, greed, just like all the others. What other motives for the type of violence we’d experienced were possible?

  Face it, the other key motives—jealousy, sex and revenge—didn’t seem to work here. There wasn’t a political or class aspect that I could see. Drugs and criminal activity lay behind much violence, but I couldn’t imagine a connection here.

  Still, at the end of my list, I noted some possible motives that I would need to think more about: property disputes, vendettas, someone who hated the family. Old secrets.

  Since I was considering unknowns, I went back and added question marks next to

  HOTEL MANAGER

  I didn’t know how he was involved, but there was something weird going on there.

  Next, short of the police and Gus and his boys, I was out of people that I could name.

  Hmm.

  I decided to add Gus and the boys to the list. They had access to the house and would have known how to break in and make it look like outsiders. But on the other side, Gram knew everyone in that family and so did Zoya, so it would be hard to disguise themselves. They did have distinctive silhouettes (three large, one small), but no boys had been our home invaders.

  Gram really liked Gus. Might she have earmarked some trinkets or a small amount of money to him? Gus and the boys had a booming repair business and the home invasion plus the hotel rampage would have been very risky. In fact, neither crime had netted the perpetrators a thing, except to scare us all silly. Still, I left Gus and the boys on the list. It didn’t cost anything. On the card, I wrote,

  Will?

  As for the cops, the unknown fool in front of the house may have been involved. I put

  STUPID COP

  on the list and made a note to ask Officer Martinez to see if she had any more ideas about who he might have been.

  My list was getting longer and messier and my cards were getting even worse. I told myself that was why detectives used boards, so they could see connections and draw lines with dry erase markers.

  I stalked around the house trying to clear my head. I wandered back upstairs. I was wearing the chiffon dress again. It had lost some of its glamour on day two.

  Gram waved to me from her front bedroom. “No smiles today?”

  I managed to produce one, by some small miracle.

  “Come in, my dear. Where is our boy this lovely sunny day?”

  Lovely sunny day? I hadn’t even noticed. A quick glance out the window confirmed it. Across the street, Sierra, looking well put together as always, was waving good-bye to her husband and taking the baby for a walk. Her biggest worry would be to walk up the hill to an artisanal coffee roastery or down the hill to an almost identical one. A beautiful day in San Francisco. Perfect for dodging would-be murderers.

  I would have liked to join her, but I had stuff to do.

  I slid William’s recliner over to the vast bed and leaned forward. I said, “That was awesome oatmeal this morning. I’d never had anything like it.” I didn’t mention the Froot Loops or Count Chocula I grew up with. Gram beamed at me.

  I said, “You might not be smiling when this is over, but I need to ask you some questions that may be uncomfort
able and even unfair.”

  “I’m a tough old bird,” she said with a chuckle. “What’s that they say nowadays? Bring it on?”

  I brought it on. “I need to know about your will.”

  She blinked and the telltale family flush started at her neck and rose higher.

  “I realize that it’s rude to ask, and I’m sorry, but we need to figure out what is going on with people breaking into your house and threatening you.” I left out the missing dog, Zoya’s injuries and everything that had happened to us.

  “I’m sure it has nothing to do with my financial affairs,” she said as the blush spread.

  “Maybe not, but let’s rule it out then. They do say, ‘Follow the money.’”

  She looked at me shrewdly. “Fine. What do you need to know?”

  “Exactly who stands to benefit.”

  “Oh. Well, Tyler, of course. He’s always been my heir, since my husband died.”

  “I had assumed that.”

  “I’ve never really discussed it with him. Perhaps I should.”

  “Who else? His parents?”

  Her lips pursed. “No way. Most of what I have, and I’m very comfortable, is because William, my second husband, built a successful business. I helped by investing the rather small amount my first husband left me. He made it work for both of us and we never looked back. Tyler’s parents cut me off and, worse, cut me off from Tyler, so, no, they won’t be getting a cent.”

  “Right,” I said.

  “And if you’re thinking my first husband should have left some money to his only son, you’re right. He should have and he did. My son couldn’t stand that I’d use what was rightfully mine and move on with my life.”

  “Okay then. So not Tyler’s parents. Good.”

  “Why good?”

  “Because the more we eliminate, the more likely we are to figure out who is behind these attacks.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “What about Zoya?”

  “Zoya! Surely you don’t think—”

  From the door, I heard, “Zoya vat?”

  We both whirled. I said, “Surely Zoya will have found out something about this morning.”

  She squinted suspiciously and waved her arms. “No Asta. Novere. Should call police.”

  That was bad news. We all wanted Asta back.

  Gram rolled her eyes. “By all means, Zoya. See where you get with the police, although they haven’t been much help sorting anything else out.”

  Zoya stomped away and down the stairs. Gram exhaled. “Yes. She will get a certain amount. Enough to get by on. But she’ll lose her home and her meals and everything she has here. She’d definitely need to get another job soon. It might not be as good as this one.” Gram glanced at me and pursed her lips.

  “I understand her situation,” I said. After all, it was much like mine, except that my work was more interesting and my boss was not as nice.

  Gram sighed. “I think I am going to have to revise that will to make sure Zoya’s looked after better. I’m all she has in the world.”

  “You might want to wait until we figure out what’s going on first.”

  Gram’s blue eyes flashed just a bit. “I’ll make that decision.”

  “Oh course, but before I go, by any chance is there anything for Gus or the boys?”

  “In my will?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course there isn’t. Why would there be?”

  I used “police talk.” “Just eliminating suspects.”

  “Suspects? Really, my dear. Gus is not a suspect. He’s as honest as anyone I’ve ever met, and his boys are big chips off the little block.”

  “Well, that’s good news, isn’t it? There couldn’t be any issue with an unpaid bill or something he feels entitled to?”

  “There is no issue!”

  “Have there ever been any valuables missing from the house?”

  “Are you accusing—”

  “No. Just eliminating people, as I said.”

  “Well, except for Gus, you haven’t eliminated anyone.”

  That was true. “What about relatives on your second husband’s side? I think you mentioned cousins.”

  She took a breath. “There are some. I’d been hoping that Tyler could meet his cousins one of these days, although they’re really step-cousins.”

  “So exactly who are these cousins?”

  “First of all, the real relatives are my late husband’s nieces, Clara and Janet. They all live in New York State. We weren’t close, in any way. Janet has a daughter and Clara has a son. Unless it’s the other way around. I did make some small provisions—money and heirlooms—for all four, just as my husband had in his will.”

  “But they might be upset about the will favoring Tyler?”

  “They probably would be, but how would they know? I didn’t tell them. As I said, we’re not all that close. We’re in touch maybe once a year. Nothing’s changed. Tyler was always the one. And if something were ever to alter that, the money I’d be leaving to him will go to a foundation to maintain parks. I don’t remember the name right off.”

  “Would they know that?”

  “They wouldn’t know anything, unless one of them is a mind reader. Now, I think I need to close my eyes. This has been quite upsetting.” I noticed she didn’t call me “my dear.”

  “I’m sorry. I had to ask, but that should be the end of it.”

  I felt like a creep as I tiptoed away. Tyler appeared in his doorway suddenly, stretching. “Nothing like a full hour’s sleep to get a guy going.”

  “Are you staying up?” I asked.

  “I think so.”

  In the middle of our conversation, a text came in, just a bit of silliness from Lance. But after it, I spotted a text I must have missed from Farley Tso: Jordan, I have your item. I felt like dancing. Must have been just a lookalike on the news. Although I’d only met him once, my knees felt weak with relief. Farley was alive and I could collect Red Harvest for Vera. “I’ll go to the hotel. I’d like to get my clothes and check on everything there.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you going by yourself.”

  “Well, you’re better to defend this place than I am.”

  “Still, who could you take with you?”

  Officer Martinez was long gone. Gus and the boys were hammering away doing something good at least. Zoya was in no shape to do anything. Gram was out of the question.

  “I’ll be fine. And I’ll stay in touch by phone or text.”

  “Better take a cab and be really careful.”

  * * *

  I USED MY phone to book an Uber. There were several drivers in the area and I chose the closest one. Soon I was zooming along in a white Prius with my driver, Steve. Steve was in his late twenties and good-looking in that “short-haired with a large but well-trimmed mustache and suspenders” way. Also he was polite and just friendly enough. I couldn’t help noticing that he had a copy of On the Road in the passenger seat. I felt a kinship toward him as another reader of classic books. He didn’t insist on chatting. That was another point in his favor. We drove down the long hills past elegant row houses. I felt that vacation feeling for a brief moment.

  My shoulders sagged thinking about it. San Francisco was so beautiful and charming and scenic, and yet behind the walls of these stately residences and down these whimsical back streets lurked duplicity and danger. We had no idea who was being duplicitous and where the danger was coming from. It was as dark and deadly as a scene from Hammett’s own mind. Not the fun-filled Nick and Nora type of adventure, but a Sam Spade or Continental Op in which maybe no one would get out alive. As we neared the area of Farley’s Finest, I had a vision of Vera’s face. I was awfully glad I wouldn’t be going home without Red Harvest. Whoever was making this the holiday from hell was not going to give
Vera the ammunition to make me miserable at home. As we hurled along the busy streets, I reached into my satchel and fished out the antique handkerchief box that Farley had given me. I’d been too busy staying alive to think much about it. I opened it up. It had a hint of cedar and one crisp white hanky inside. Obviously the hanky was not original, just a sweet touch. I pulled it out to dab the sweat off my lip, elicited by thoughts of Vera. The corner remained in the little box, wedged in a gap along the base. With a slight tug, up came a false bottom. Sitting underneath was a gorgeous Art Deco rhinestone necklace. This was too much! Farley had hidden yet another gift inside and I hadn’t even noticed until now. However, considering all that had happened in two days, I suppose I could be excused. I held the necklace up to the light; it was a stunner. Just amazing quality and a nice weight to it. Even as costume jewelry this must have been worth over a thousand dollars. And now that I was considering it, perhaps Mr. Tso had not intended to give me this gift, even if he was a “friend” of Mick’s. As gorgeous as it was, and as much as I would have loved to, I decided I would not keep it. It was either a mistake or far too generous a present.

  As we approached our destination, I leaned forward and asked Steve, “Can you stop there and wait for me? I just need to pick something up.”

  “No worries,” Steve said.

  I settled back and relaxed a bit. The windows were open a bit and I enjoyed the soft touch of the wind on my face. It felt so normal. A touch of normal life would do me good, clear my mind to work on the problem we were facing. Not that Farley’s was normal in any way.

  When we reached the Dali Mural, Steve found a nearby place to park. “I don’t think you can park here.”

  He said, “No worries,” again. A mantra perhaps. “Just message me if I’m not here when you come out and I’ll swing back soon as I can.” He settled back with his copy of On the Road, Kerouac still being pretty good company after all these years.

  “I shouldn’t be long,” I said, slipping out of the car. He gave me a businesslike smile, undermined slightly by his suspenders and mustache, and returned to his reading.

  On this afternoon there was much less hustle and flow than previously. There was no intoxicating smell of churro nor was there a puppet lady, and when I reached the alley, I was saddened to see that the men on stools were not there either. I put on my “don’t mess with me” stride and clicked my heels toward Farley’s. The daylight from the street wasn’t strong enough to reach the depths of the alley, and steam poured from a low vent.