Scheduled to Death

by Mary Feliz

  “Slender? Deep brown eyes? An infectious laugh and an offbeat sense of style with sensible shoes?”

  I burst out laughing. Stephen had nailed the description. Then my voice caught as I realized I’d never hear her laugh again. Nor be able to help her plan one of her teen-friendly events to draw more kids into the library.

  “I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure the police had notified everyone they needed to,” I said.

  “I’m sure it’s only a matter of minutes until our boy Bianchi calls Jason for advice. He’s been calling frequently, the past few days. Jason’s been trying to help him develop strategies for dealing with Gordon Apfel, the guy they brought in while Jason’s on sick leave.” I heard in the chill of Stephen’s voice exactly how he felt about the other detective. He coughed quietly.

  “Sorry. Have you met him?” he asked.

  “Oh . . . we’ve met,” I said, knowing that my tone of voice must be nearly as revealing as Stephen’s had been.

  He made a harrumphing noise, but didn’t say anything more.

  “Look, come to dinner and you can fill us all in on Apfel, as long as we keep the conversation clean enough for the boys to overhear. I’ll get Tess and Teddy to come too.”

  “Thanks, Maggie, you’re saving my life.”

  “Hardly, but that would make us even.”

  “I don’t know how long we’ll be able to stay. This will be our first trip, if you don’t count coming home from the hospital, . . .” Stephen’s voice trailed off and I guessed he was second-guessing his decision to eat with all of us.

  “Look, I get it. How ’bout this,” I suggested. “We’ll eat at the dining-room table. There’s that big archway between the table and the living room. We’ll fix Jason up on the sofa and he can listen in. We can even turn the couch around so it’s facing the dining room. If he needs to snooze, he can. And if it seems like too much to take him back home tonight, you can both stay or leave early—whatever you want.”

  “Perfect—or as perfect as things are going to get around here for a while yet. But if he gets so cranky I want to kill him, will you either stop me or help me get away with it?”

  “Of course! What are friends for?”

  We covered a few other details and hung up, but not before Stephen had a chance to ask me to convey his sympathies to Linc. I phoned Tess and we chatted quickly. I told her we’d evaded Detective Apfel, but couldn’t expect it to be so easy next time. I filled her in on Jason’s status and invited her and her son Teddy to dinner.

  I texted Max to let him know the hordes were descending. I knew he’d either join us or take the opportunity to get caught up on some work at his office. I also texted Paolo to let him know who all was joining us for dinner.

  Ten people. An easy fit around the big oak table. Chili, a fruit and cheese plate, and a few loaves of sourdough bread would round things out nicely. I had plenty of milk, beer, and wine. We were in good shape.

  I was headed out the door to get the chili fixings when my phone rang again. It was April, the principal at Brian’s school.

  “Hey, April,” I said. “Is Brian okay?” April and I had worked together on a number of projects, but, like any other parent, when the school called my first concern was the health of my kid.

  “Hey, Maggie. Brian’s fine. I guess you’ve heard about Sarah?”

  “It’s dreadful. I can’t believe she’s gone.” I didn’t tell April I’d found her body. The longer it took for that news to get out, the better, as far as I was concerned.

  “It’s horrible,” April said. “She was the healthiest person I know. And so looking forward to her wedding and moving in with Linc.”

  A silence grew between us as we both took a moment to think about Sarah. But April couldn’t remain quiet for long.

  “Look, Maggie, I’ve got a few things I need to go over with you, since you were Sarah’s chief volunteer. Do you have a minute?”

  “Actually, I was on my way out the door. I’ve got a gang of folks coming for chili tonight and I need to get it simmering soon. Do you want to come? We can talk then. Linc’s staying here for a bit and Jason’s coming over.”

  “Jason? That’s great. I thought he was still in the hospital. I’d love to come, but library funding is on the agenda at the school-board meeting tonight. Can you swing by my office when you drop Brian off at school in the morning?”

  I agreed and wished April luck at the meeting. In Orchard View, school administrators spent an enormous amount of time campaigning to keep essential programs alive.

  On a whim, I texted Elaine Cumberfield, a retired principal who lived across from the middle school. I hadn’t seen her since we’d worked together trying to tackle a spate of vandalism at the start of the school year. She knew everyone else who would be here tonight and it would be fun to catch up with her.

  I hung up and texted Brian and David to warn them that we were having folks over for an informal dinner. I told the kids that if they had homework they could bow out early. Our guests wouldn’t stay late. Everyone needed to work the next day.

  I hesitated a moment, wondering if I should let them know about Sarah. Brian probably already knew, since Sarah was the librarian at his school. Knowing the remarkable power of the teenaged grapevine, every high school student, including David, had probably also heard. Either way, there was time to fill them in before our friends arrived for dinner.

  I decided Max also needed to know. I sent him a text to call me if he got a chance. No one wants to get news of a friend’s death via a text.

  David responded quickly in teen text-speak—a language in which I was barely literate: Great. Got ride. See you.

  I didn’t hear from Brian, but that didn’t mean anything. He tended to check his phone frequently, but seldom responded to anything other than a direct question.

  The phone pinged again, alerting me to Max’s text. I wondered if I’d ever get out of my driveway, let alone to the store and back. He wrote:

  If I can’t get home in time I’ll call so you can fill me in. Sounds like something’s brewing.

  He knew me too well.

  Tess also texted her RSVP: As long as Detective Awful won’t be there, Teddy and I will she typed, followed quickly by I’ll bring dessert.

  Dinner would be fun, I thought as I dashed out the door. Or at least as much fun as anything could be with Sarah gone. But that’s what friends are for: sharing both joys and grief. We were a tight group with bonds formed during the disastrous weeks following our arrival in Orchard View. But we were clearly out of touch. We needed to comfort each other following Sarah’s death and catch up on the other minutiae that strengthened community ties.

  Chapter 4

  For casual entertaining, it pays to develop a signature dish you can throw together in a flash. One so easy, reli- able, and great-tasting that even your best friends won’t care that you served it the last three times they visited.

  From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald,

  Simplicity Itself Organizing Services

  Monday, November 3, 6:00 p.m.

  Linc was still asleep when most of our dinner guests arrived. As usual, when we had a large group with a whole lot to discuss, Stephen took the reins. After everyone had filled a plate with food, Stephen summarized Jason’s story and prognosis, then asked Jason to tell everyone what he knew about Detective Gordon Apfel.

  “Oh, man,” said Tess. “I couldn’t stand to see him adjust his pants or wipe his nose one more time. Please tell me he’s a better detective than he seems.”

  Jason, looking like he was having a little trouble focusing, probably because of the painkillers, shifted himself on the sofa. “’Fraid not. He’s had a long career of screwups. Started on patrol back in the late seventies. His grandfather and great-grandfather were cops and his father was a local politician.” Jason took a deep breath, winced, and adjusted his pillows. “Word was, his mom came from money—the kind of money that gets you a board seat on a foundation that writes h
efty grants to small-town police departments.”

  “Surely, over a forty-year career, someone must have noticed his incompetence,” Tess said, pouring herself a second glass of red wine.

  Jason nodded. “His family pulled strings to get him on the force and keep him there. Rumor has it he collects secrets that others would prefer to keep quiet. He had problems settling into the job, though. He started as a canine officer who couldn’t bond with his dog. He worked with schools and youth groups until complaints about foul language and inappropriate jokes piled up and they moved him to night patrol. No one wanted to work with him because he wasn’t reliable backup.” Jason leaned back against the cushions. Munchkin whined and nudged Jason’s hand with his nose.

  “Don’t worry, boy, I’ll live,” Jason said, patting Munchkin until the overprotective mastiff settled by his side. “During a downsizing effort following the dot-com bust, administration offered him a severance package that he couldn’t turn down and we were rid of him.

  “Unfortunately, that put him on reserve in a position to be reactivated when we needed extra staffing. Like now.” Jason nodded at his leg, which was sporting an uncomfortable-looking steampunk array of rods and steel rings. According to Stephen, the break had required complicated surgery and more than the usual amount of support from internal rods, plates, nails, and screws, in addition to the external stabilizers.

  “But why bring this Gordon guy back, if everyone knew he was no good?” Tess asked. “Surely there’s someone to promote or borrow from a neighboring force?”

  “You heard we have a new chief?” Jason asked. “He came up from San Jose and doesn’t yet know who he can trust and who he can’t. He’s going by the book and the book says we rehire Detective Awful. Love the name, by the way.”

  Tess raised her glass to him and smirked. “Anything to help the team.”

  “So what does that mean for us?” I said. “Linc wants to get back in his house and find out how Sarah died.”

  “And I don’t want Maggie involved in another homicide investigation.” Max’s deep voice rumbled across the front room and made my stomach do that little fluttery thing it always did at the sound of Max’s voice. I was glad he’d found time to phone me earlier. I’d already told him about Sarah’s death and about the friends who’d be at the table when he walked in the door.

  He dropped his backpack on the coffee table and loped into the dining room with nods of greeting to his friends, a kiss for me, and a pat on the back for each of the boys. Belle stood to greet him and he rumpled her ears. “Let me grab another bowl and I’ll join you. Does anyone need a beer? Should I open another bottle of wine? Turn on the coffee?”

  Drink orders taken, Max disappeared through the pantry into the kitchen. While he made trips back and forth, Jason added a few more key points.

  “The chief asked me to advise the team, but I can’t drive and will be spending most of my energy on physical therapy. The bulk of the investigation will rest on Paolo’s shoulders, so I’ll be helping to ease that load and with handling Apfel.”

  The front door opened again and Paolo stepped in as if summoned by Jason’s use of his name. That was the sort of friend Paolo had become—someone who could comfortably walk into our house without knocking. He said hello to everyone, grabbed a bowl and a beer, and stuffed a slice of sourdough bread in his mouth as he ladled chili into his bowl.

  “Is Linc around?” Paolo asked me.

  I shook my head. “He’s still asleep upstairs. Should I wake him?”

  “No, no, not at all. But if he’s not awake by the time I leave, can you let him know that I’ll bring Jelly by tomorrow? I got a call out to an accident scene while we were working at Sarah’s. By the time I got back, they’d finished. One of our techs took Jelly home with her. We’ll sort it all out tomorrow, if that works for Linc.”

  “I’m sure it will.”

  “I wasn’t able to get his clothing, either.”

  “No problem. I fixed him up with some sweats of Max’s. Now, sit. Your chili is getting cold.”

  Paolo perched on the arm of the couch near Jason’s feet. He dunked his bread in his bowl, took an enormous bite, and washed it down with a swallow of beer.

  “God, what a day,” he said. “Great to see you, Jason. I’m glad you’ve got my back. I’m fighting Apfel every step of the way. He keeps wanting to stop at some doughnut shop. Drives me nuts—both the stalling and the fact that he’s enforcing stereotypes of lazy cops eating doughnuts. He’s not doing anyone any good. And his sense of what’s important in this case is in direct conflict with what I think.”

  Jason closed his eyes and sighed. “I hear you, Paolo. But you can deal with it. You know how to handle the interfering public, like the folks around this table, right? That’s the most important thing.”

  Everyone laughed again. We’d become involved in Orchard View’s most recent homicide case following the death of a school principal back in September. Luckily, we’d helped more than we’d hindered the investigation.

  Jason cleared his throat and the room quieted. “I’ll find out which deputy district attorney will be assigned to the case and who will take lead at the crime lab. As soon as I know who the players are I’ll have a word with them. If we tell them to contact Paolo or me if they can’t get hold of Apfel, that should take care of things. He’s not known for returning calls. I’ll offer to help Apfel with paperwork he doesn’t want to handle. That will keep me in the loop.” He frowned and stroked his scruffy chin. He would need to shave soon or commit to growing a beard.

  “Paolo,” Jason said. “I’ve heard rumors that Apfel can be more than just an unattractive, lazy nuisance. It’s been said he cuts corners, is quick to blame his partner for his own mistakes, and is not above planting evidence. He’s fired on suspects at least twice.”

  “Is that a lot?” I’d grown up in Stockton, a rough-around-the-edges Central Valley city. While my family lived in a quiet neighborhood near a university campus, reports of gunfire were common.

  Stephen put his hand on my shoulder and cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Most of the Orchard View force retires without ever drawing a gun,” he said. “Both times Apfel was investigated after discharging his weapon, his family stepped in and he was cleared of wrongdoing.”

  Stephen scanned the room. “My take on the situation is that Apfel can be unpredictable and dangerous. Anyone near him should watch their back.”

  Paolo nodded at Stephen, who turned to me and frowned.

  “Maggie, you’re already in this up to your ears because you’re friends with both Linc and Sarah, and because you found her. But you’re going to have to stay far away from Apfel. Neither he nor the new chief will appreciate a civilian tangling with their investigation.”

  “But Paolo will keep us filled in,” Tess said.

  “I’ll keep you as informed as I’m able,” said Paolo. “First, I’m hoping you all can give me some background on Sarah and Linc so I can figure out what’s going on here.”

  We all began talking at once. The noise level amplified as we struggled to be heard. Paolo stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled, earning a grin of approval from Jason.

  “Here’s how it’s going to work,” Paolo said, drawing another laugh. It was one of Jason’s favorite phrases. “I’m the cop. You’re the civilians.” He looked at Tess and me. “And in some cases, the suspects.”

  I drew in my breath with a hiss. I’d not thought about any of us as suspects. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong and would never hurt Sarah. But Paolo was right. We would become the obvious suspects if we weren’t already.

  “Let’s talk about that,” I said. “Who else could have done this? Did anyone have a problem with Sarah? Seriously? They’d have to be nuts—”

  “Maggie,” said Tess.

  “I know, I know. Anyone who thinks killing someone is the simplest solution to a problem is, by definition, nuts. But really, who could have wanted Sarah dead?”

&n
bsp; “You’re right,” Tess said, “but I was going to say that if Paolo is talking about suspects, does that mean Sarah’s death is officially a homicide?”

  Paolo shook his head. “It’s not officially anything until we hear back from the medical examiner, but I don’t want to lose any time if we’re going to ultimately be investigating a homicide. Right now, the county team is examining the evidence and they’ll let us know what it tells them. For the moment, I’m trying to fill in some holes in the picture. Unless anyone thinks she was likely to have committed suicide?”

  A murmur rippled through the room. The consensus seemed to be that suicide was very unlikely, if not impossible. Small conversations erupted as they do among gatherings of good friends.

  “Detective Apfel is focusing on homicide and looking solely at Linc.” Paolo paused and held up the fingers of both hands to make air quotes. “Because it’s ‘always’ the boyfriend.”

  “What’s the story on Boots?” I asked. “I know she runs the community gardens behind the house, but there’s something cagey about her. She has easy access to Linc’s house.”

  “Boots is a character, all right,” said Elaine Cumberfield, who’d arrived just before Paolo and had been listening carefully, but saying little. “Maybe institution is a better word. But I think she’s completely honest.” Elaine passed around a plate of her famous gingerbread men. Each cookie sported a cast made of icing on its right leg. Each face bore a chagrined expression that Elaine had accomplished with a few swipes of her pastry bag. The woman was an artist with gingerbread cookies and I told her so.

  “Consider them an edible get-well card,” she told Jason as she settled into a Shaker rocker and smoothed her cloud of white hair. “For the rest of us, they’re a warning to look before we leap.”

  “Ouch,” said Jason. “Way to rub it in.”

  “What you did was stupid, Jason. You’re not in middle school any more. You’re not invincible and it’s time to stop acting as if you are.”