by Mary Feliz
We laughed, but Elaine silenced the room with one of her “I’m the principal” looks.
“Here’s what I know about Boots,” she said. “Her real name is Claire Domingo, but she wears those goofy boots everywhere, so she earned her nickname accordingly. She was a foster mom for many years and she’s now helping kids who’ve aged out of the foster system. So many of them are cut loose as soon as they reach their eighteenth birthday. With no skills and teenaged judgment, they tend to fall through the cracks and Boots is trying to stop that. Many of her unofficial charges work volunteer hours at the garden.”
“So, what are you saying?” I asked. “Is she like that guy in Oliver Twist who was running a ring of young thieves?”
Elaine smiled. “Nice literary reference, Maggie. But no. She’s been known to skate close to the legal edge, but always for a good reason. I can’t see her doing something blatantly illegal any more than I can see her wanting to hurt Sarah—or Linc, for that matter. Are we sure Sarah was the target here?”
We all turned to look at Paolo, who leaned back a little under the onslaught of attention. “Like I said,” he began. “There’s no official manner of death until we hear from the medical examiner.”
Elaine frowned and leaned forward. “It’s difficult to imagine what could possibly make someone angry enough or desperate enough to resort to murder.” She paused and bit her bottom lip. “Although . . . tensions are running high over the need for a new school site. If you combined the gardens with the land from Linc’s house you’d have just enough square footage for a public elementary school close to the downtown center.”
Uncomfortable laughter filled the room and Stephen said what we were all thinking. “Given the opinions being shared on online forums and letters to the editor, folks around here certainly care enough and are crazy enough to commit murder to find available land.”
“I’d say I’d never read such vitriol-filled comments,” Elaine said, nodding. “But it’s just the angry issue of the moment. The other matter that has folks riled up is the proposed curriculum changes. The back-to-basics crowd, the ones who say we should stick to teaching, readin’, writin’, and ’rithmetic has been especially vocal this year. I’m sure most of that crowd is peaceful, but when a group of them are at a board meeting, their comments grow particularly strident. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to believe one of them decided the best way to put their ideas into action would be to take out a librarian. Our district is the last one in the county to employ full-time librarians. Their salaries make for a hefty line item the back-to-basics crowd would love to eliminate.
I shivered. “There’s a vast difference between crossing out a line item and eliminating a person. Have we all had too much wine? This discussion is getting really creepy. I know that I said we should think about who might have wanted to hurt Sarah, but if we continue speculating like this, none of us are going to sleep tonight. Let’s shift gears. We’ve got Elaine’s cookies and I think that Tess stopped at the Japanese bakery. Does anyone want more coffee with their desserts?”
While my guests began clearing our first course off the table, I went into the kitchen to start the coffee. Tess followed me. “Maggie, we’ve got a problem.”
“Bigger than Sarah’s death?”
“Of course not, but serious nonetheless. All the pre-publicity for my holiday tea has gone out. My schedule is locked up.”
I stole a cookie from the dessert plate Tess was creating. She slapped my hand. I chewed the slightly salty chocolate cookie and thought about what to say next. My business plan depended on the exposure I would get from participating in Tess’s holiday tea and upon endorsements from Tess and Linc.
Tess looked up as she peeled the fluted paper off of a cupcake. I raised my eyebrows.
“What?” she said. “It wouldn’t fit on the plate.”
“You can’t be thinking of sticking to the schedule,” I said. “Surely that’s impossible now. Will anyone want to buy a house where there was recently a fatal accident or a homicide?”
She wiped chocolate frosting from her lips. “We’d disclose it, of course. The law requires it. But it would probably get us a record number of lookie-loos—the gruesome sort who would get a thrill out of Sarah’s death.”
It made my stomach ache to think of Sarah’s memory being defiled by people who were looking to turn Linc’s home into some sort of haunted house.
Max came into the kitchen carrying empty chili bowls. “Everything okay in here? Can I help?”
“I’ll get these out on the table,” Tess said, grabbing her dessert trays and heading back to the dining room. I handed Max another basket of bread. “In case anyone is still eating,” I said.
“The boys are,” Max said. “But I expect they’ll be done as soon as they see Tess’s contribution.” He picked up the carafe of coffee that had almost stopped brewing. I winced as drops of coffee hit the heating element and hissed, emitting the smell of scorched grounds.
“This won’t last long,” said Max, lifting the carafe. “Can you start another pot?”
I nodded and he disappeared through the pantry into the dining room. I began loading dishes into the dishwasher. Tears welled up and stung my eyes. I grabbed a paper napkin from the stack on the table and buried my face in it before I had a chance to realize how scratchy and uncomfortable it was.
By the time I’d recovered enough to venture back into the dining room, Elaine had left and Jason was asleep with Munchkin snoring beside him. Belle was curled next to Munchkin, but awake enough to look up and thump her tail when I entered the room.
I gestured to Tess, Paolo, and Stephen to follow me into the kitchen, where we could speak freely without waking Jason. The boys had moved upstairs to finish their homework.
Just as we sat down, we heard Linc and Newton trudging down the stairs. On the last step, Linc yawned and stretched. Newton pushed past him and sniffed at Belle’s empty food bowl.
“How long was I asleep?” he asked. “What day is it? Is it always so busy around here?”
I laughed. “It’s Monday evening. I probably should have warned you about all our visitors, but you were sound asleep and I didn’t want to wake you. Can I get you anything? Leftover chili? A sandwich? Dessert?” I pulled out a chair for him at the table.
“Coffee would be great, Maggie,” he said. “Thanks.”
I fed Newton some of Belle’s food while Max poured coffee into a mug for Linc. He clasped Linc’s shoulder in a manly display of sympathy. I put a few cookies on a small plate in front of him, hoping to tempt him into downing some extra calories. I wasn’t sure when he’d last eaten.
Everyone chipped in on the cleanup while Linc went through the motions of sipping his coffee and nibbling on a cookie. Paolo filled Linc in about Jelly’s location and apologized for the confusion.
We’d all joined Linc at the table when Stephen glanced at the kitchen clock, comparing the time with his watch.
“It’s nearly time for Jason’s next pain pill,” he said. “I hate to wake him, but I need to get him home. Thanks so much for this evening, Maggie, Max.”
Stephen, like Max had done, clasped his hand on Linc’s shoulder in silent sympathy.
Max helped Stephen get Jason settled in the car. I stood on the bottom step of the porch stairs to wave good-bye.
“Please call, day or night, if you need anything,” I told Stephen. “One of us will be here.”
Stephen nodded. “Let me know if there is anything I can do for Linc while I’m home with Jason. Make phone calls, maybe?”
“Of course.”
He opened the back hatch of his SUV for Munchkin and then settled into the driver’s seat. Jason waved from the open window, his teeth clenched. It looked as though it was past time for those pain meds.
Max sighed as they turned at the end of the driveway to make the trip down the hill.
“You can’t help everyone, Maggie,” Max said, putting his arm around my shoulders. “I’m not sure there ar
e enough hours in the day for you to do all you want to do with your business and help Jason and Linc too.”
“I know,” I said. “But it’s not every day that a dear friend dies, either. I feel like I have to do something. April called earlier too. I’m so afraid she’s going to ask me to expand my volunteer hours to help keep the library staffed now that Sarah is gone.”
“We can talk it over later if you like, and figure it out together,” Max said. “For now, let’s see to the rest of our guests.”
Back inside, Tess and Teddy were getting ready to go and our boys were getting ready for bed. Paolo and Linc were hunched over steaming mugs. Linc looked up as I walked in.
“Maggie, do you still have the electronic calendars you were working on for Sarah and me? They’d help Paolo map out Sarah’s daily life and highlight what might have changed over the past few days.”
I looked from Linc to Paolo. I knew Paolo was a friend and had Linc’s best interests at heart, but he was still a cop and under the disagreeable thumb of Detective Awful, who I was certain would take the laziest and most direct route to nabbing a suspect. I didn’t want to do or say anything that would harm Linc. The guidelines of my profession dictated that my loyalties were to the person who hired me. But my clients’ confidentiality wasn’t protected the way certain conversations with priests and doctors were.
Max shook his head as if he’d been reading my thoughts.
“Linc, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to hand all that over to the police without checking with a lawyer first,” I said.
Paolo’s head whipped around and he glared at Max and me as though we’d betrayed him. I wished I could find a way to help both Paolo and Linc at the same time.
“But Linc’s cooperating,” Paolo said. “I need him to help me find out what happened to Sarah.”
“Maggie’s right,” Max said. “Linc, let’s have you at least talk to a lawyer tomorrow. My college roommate is a criminal attorney in San Francisco. If he isn’t the right guy to help out, he’ll know who is—more so than any of us, anyway.”
Linc closed his eyes, turned away, and said nothing.
I went to him and touched his shoulder. “Linc, no one is suggesting you did this or that you stop helping the police. But Jason said that Detective Apfel can’t be relied upon to do the right thing. I think it’s a good idea to get advice from someone experienced and objective. If a lawyer tells you it makes sense to talk to Paolo and Jason, and gives you some language you can use to avoid talking to Detective Apfel, fine. But if he or she thinks that’s a risky way to proceed, then you’ll know. And you’ll have someone in your corner in case you have questions later.”
“Max, could you call your lawyer friend, please?” Linc said. “Paolo, I’ll give you as much help as I can. Maggie has my permission to pass along all the records she has as soon as the lawyer approves it. You could get all that with a warrant, anyway. Talk to her so you know what we can offer. For now, though, I’m going to bed.”
He stood, gave Max and me a tiny bow, and climbed the back stairs, followed closely by Newton.
I turned to Paolo, who still looked furious.
“I need to say good night to the boys,” I said. “But after that, if you can wait, I’ll give you a list of the files I have for Sarah and Linc. I can give you the complete files after Linc talks to the lawyer or after you get a warrant, but for now, you’ll at least know what we have.”
Paolo nodded, but I could feel him shooting angry looks at me as I followed Linc up the stairs.
Today had started out in the worst possible way. Now, nearly everyone I knew was a little ticked off at me. Paolo thought I was undermining his investigation. Max thought I was spreading myself too thin. April almost certainly wanted more volunteer hours from me than I could spare.
I needed time to figure out what I wanted to do, and what I could do, as well as what I should do. And figuring that out was going to take time. Time I didn’t think I had.
Chapter 5
I recommend spending time on Friday afternoons cleaning up your desk, filing stray papers, and organizing your Monday to-do list. It will help speed your transition back to the work world after the weekend.
If you’ve had a hectic day midweek, the same technique can help you feel more in control of your work environment and is well worth the time spent.
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald,
Simplicity Itself Organizing Services
Tuesday, November 4, 6:00 a.m.
The next morning, we were all dragging. When we woke at six, Max texted his friend Forrest Doucett to explain Linc’s need for legal guidance. Forrest phoned back and insisted on talking to Linc immediately. I took Linc coffee, toast, and the portable phone. I knew from careful monitoring of the light on the kitchen extension that they ended up talking for at least an hour.
At 7:30, Max called up the stairs to the boys. “The bus is leaving in five minutes, guys. Hustle up.”
By bus, Max meant my car and his. Orchard View had given up buses in the 1970s.
Max was taking David to school this morning while I’d take Brian, then stop in to see April. I’d fallen asleep in the midst of going over my schedule with Max the night before, but the quick gist of our talk was that he was willing to do more of the kid transport and help out in other ways if it would give me more time to tackle projects that were piling up. He still hoped I’d say no to any suggestions April made to increase my library hours, but left the decision to me. We’d agreed to carve out more time to talk this evening and discuss solutions to the fact that physics dictated I couldn’t cram more than twenty-four hours’ worth of tasks into a twenty-four-hour period.
The kids’ footsteps pounded down the back staircase into the kitchen. They were followed by Belle, Newton, and Linc, who was shrugging into his jacket while carrying his backpack and was in serious danger of getting stuck in the stairway. Belle looked back at him and whined. She’d apparently adopted him as part of her pack and thought he was taking too long to rejoin the group. Newton chewed on Belle’s ear, then dropped it and barked as if asking for someone to please tell him what was happening next. He tilted his shaggy head and wagged his tail, indicating he was game for anything, so long as he was included. Some days, I wished I were a dog.
“Can you drop me at the house, Maggie?” Linc asked. “I want to pick up my car and stop by my lab before I meet with the lawyer.”
I agreed and pulled out my phone as we headed out to the car. I texted April to see if we could move up our meeting, and she responded immediately, telling me to head on over.
I scrolled through the rest of my texts while Brian, Belle, Newton, and Linc got settled in my small SUV.
I was about to put my phone back in my purse when it pinged with a text from Paolo, asking if I could meet him at the school library. He wanted me to look around and see if I could spot any clues to problems in Sarah’s life that might have contributed to her death.
“Mom, hurry up,” Brian said. “We’re gonna be late.”
Brian’s words knocked me out of the digital world and into the real one. I handed my phone to Linc, started the car, and backed out of the driveway.
“Linc, can you text Paolo and tell him I’m dropping you at your house, but after that I’ll come straight back to the library to help him out?” Linc typed at lightning speed. I’d set up his phone earlier with texting, scheduling, calendar, and reminder apps. For clients like Linc who had trouble remembering a schedule and who found phone conversations stressful, the features of a smartphone were a godsend. Linc had taken to texting as if he’d been doing it since birth.
Brian yawned loudly in the backseat and so did Belle, which made us all laugh so hard I had trouble keeping my eyes on the road. It wasn’t eight o’clock yet and we already needed the stress relief of laughing at something that wasn’t particularly funny. It didn’t bode well for the rest of the day.
“Mom, are you going to work in the library?” Brian asked. “Can you s
till pick me up after school?”
“Pick you up after school, definitely,” I said. “It’s the best part of my day.” Too soon, he’d be driving himself everywhere and I’d miss these precious minutes in the car. We might speak only a few sentences, none at all, or Brian would chatter nonstop about his day. It didn’t matter. I learned more about my kid—and whether he needed help or encouragement or praise or guidance—in those few minutes at the start and end of the school day than I did at any other time in any other setting.
“Is Jason going to find out what happened to Sarah?” Brian asked. “Who is Detective Awful? Is that really his name?”
“Of course Jason will figure things out,” I said. “Just because his leg is broken doesn’t mean his brain doesn’t work. He can analyze the evidence from home as well as he can from the police station.” I dodged the question about Detective Awful. The derisive nickname helped me deal with him, but I wasn’t proud of using it, especially in front of my youngest son.
I pulled up at the school. Brian grabbed his backpack, lunch, and trumpet case. He kissed Belle on the top of her head, patted Newton, pushed at the top of my head, and jumped out of the car. “Later, Mom. Bye, Professor.”
He pulled his backpack higher up on one shoulder, lengthened his stride, and stood up straighter as he joined a group of band kids waiting to stow their instruments in the music room. I pulled away from the curb and tried to be patient as the queue of minivans and SUVs crept toward the parking-lot exit.
“What did the lawyer say this morning?” I asked Linc as we turned left onto the main road.
“Forrest? Linc asked. “He does think we need help, or I need help, anyway. He doesn’t want us to hand anything over or talk to the police until he has a chance to come down here and find out more about what’s going on.” Linc looked at his watch. “I’m supposed to meet him around eleven. He has a deposition in Palo Alto and will call me after that. Turn at the next block to avoid the school traffic.”