Scheduled to Death

by Mary Feliz

  But Jason wasn’t in his usual spot on the sofa in the front room. Munchkin raced to greet me, tail wagging. I knelt down to give him a thorough hug and massage his ears.

  “Where are your people, Munch? They didn’t leave you alone, did they?”

  Elaine walked into the room from the kitchen, drying a tumbler with a white kitchen towel.

  “Good morning, Maggie. I hear you had a rough night. Do you have time for coffee?”

  “I’d love to sit and chat, but Stephen called me a little while ago about picking up the reports he ran for me on our likely suspects. Is he around?”

  “Come on back to the kitchen,” Elaine said. “I’ve been baking and I’ll pack up some of the cookies for the boys.”

  She turned and I followed her. “Have a seat,” she said, pulling out mugs and plates even though I hadn’t said I was interested in coffee.

  “What’s going on, Elaine? Has something happened I should know about?”

  Elaine sighed. “I don’t know who called you, but it wasn’t Stephen.”

  I waited for her to say more. She looked out the kitchen window, then back at me.

  “Did you hear that Jason’s back in the hospital?” she asked.

  “What happened? He’s going to be okay, right?”

  “He spiked a fever late yesterday. Stephen made him an appointment with the doctor, but when his fever hit a hundred and four early in the morning, Stephen drove him to emergency.”

  “I must have talked to him just before that. Have you heard anything since then? Can we help?”

  “Pray if you’ve a mind to,” Elaine said. “And if you don’t, think good thoughts, wish them luck, cast a spell, do nice things for other people—whatever works for you. I’m praying my heart out and scrubbing their grout.”

  “That ought to keep you out of trouble. Do you have any updates on his condition?”

  “It’s not good. Stephen’s been texting me and he’s worried. Jason’s leg was swollen and they’re not sure whether it’s a reaction to the materials in the rods they put in, a local infection of the surgical wound, or a systemic infection called osteo—osteo something.”

  “Osteomyelitis? That’s serious.”

  “That’s it. They’re pumping him full of antibiotics. His stomach is upset and he’s hallucinating from the fever, so they’ve got him on antiemetics and tranquilizers to keep him from thrashing about.”

  “Oh . . . wow,” I said, kicking myself for having no words that were more appropriate to the situation.

  “I know. Stephen says our patient is off in la-la-land. I asked if he wanted us there, but he said there’s nothing we can do. He called the orthopedic surgeon from the Veterans Hospital, who apparently plays golf with the trauma surgeon who initially treated Jason at Valley Medical.”

  “Is that where his is?” I asked. “Valley Medical?”

  “No, Stephen drove him to Stanford. They’ve got an infectious-disease doctor looking in on him, on top of all the surgeons.”

  “I can understand why Stephen doesn’t want anyone else there. Will you let me know if he needs anything? Anything at all?”

  “Absolutely.” Elaine poured the coffee I hadn’t wanted and I held the warm mug, soaking up the warmth and comfort. Today’s cookies were molasses with white frosting hearts on them.

  “Good choice,” I said, saluting her with one of the cookies.

  “Yet another way of praying, in my opinion.” Elaine’s voice broke and she stared into her coffee mug, not meeting my gaze.

  I gave her a moment. I needed one too. I thought about how terrified Stephen must be. I pondered my next step and wondered who had tried to contact me. I tried to remember what the caller had said, but the words had been so garbled. I pulled my phone from my pocket and looked at the call log. I found the one call I’d received earlier. It listed the caller as UNKNOWN.

  I showed it to Elaine. “It definitely wasn’t Stephen, or even Stephen’s phone. Since he’s in my contact list, his calls always display his name. I wonder why I didn’t notice that before?”

  Elaine patted my hand. “With all the things you have going on, I’m surprised you remember how to use a cell phone. But who would have called with a message that made you assume it was Stephen? And why?”

  I told Elaine about the explosion at Stanford, the wild car chase, and Linc’s accidents. Her eyes widened and her hand went to her throat.

  “I’m amazed you’re both unhurt.”

  “I was expecting Stephen or Jason to phone this morning. Stephen said he would when I talked to him last night. It was a bad connection, but I could tell it was a man calling and I just assumed it was one of them. Max, Linc, and Paolo were at the house with me.”

  “Could it have been that detective?”

  I snorted. “He’s had nothing to say to me other than ‘stay out of my investigation.’ And the voice sounded upbeat, just as if it were someone whose call I’d been expecting.”

  “Why did you come here? Did he give you an address?”

  I took another sip of the coffee. “I can’t believe I thought I didn’t want this. It’s wonderful. Just what I needed.” I took another cookie from the plate. “If he’d given an address, I’d have been suspicious.” I dug around in my memory, but couldn’t be sure what the caller’s exact words had been. “He must have said something like ‘Come by the house,’ and I assumed he meant to come here. But why?” I put down the uneaten portion of my cookie and brushed the inevitable crumbs into my hand and transferred them back to the plate. “Maybe it was someone calling on Jason or Stephen’s behalf? Should I text and ask? Or should I not disturb them?”

  Elaine shrugged. “If they’re in the midst of something, they won’t return your text. But if Stephen’s sitting around worrying while the doctors work with Jason, he might appreciate the distraction. Go ahead.”

  I typed on my phone with my right index finger. I’d yet to manage the double-thumb technique my sons used. Did you phone me with database results earlier? Do you have them? No rush. Got a weird msg from unknown phone. Were you calling from hospital?

  A distinctive bloop told me the message was sent. With nothing to do but wait for an answer, I looked at the plate of cookies. “If I sit here all day, I’ll eat cookies all day. Do you have more grout for me to scrub?”

  Elaine laughed. “I’m nearly finished and I’m not sharing. Do you really think it was a call from the hospital? Wouldn’t Stephen have used his phone or Jason’s if he were going to call from there?”

  I smiled. “Rats. You’re right. I was thinking way back to the olden days, when we had pay phones. You know, those things you put dimes into? Or quarters, I guess.”

  “It changes almost too fast to keep up. But I keep trying.”

  “If this were happening on television, it would turn out that someone had fiddled with the cell phones. What do they call that? Cloning? I should ask Paolo or David about cloned phones. Do you think someone’s been listening in on my calls and knew I was waiting to hear from Stephen and Jason?”

  “Slow down, Maggie. Take a breath. I think you’re making this way too complicated. Where were you when you called Stephen? Did you mention his name? Could someone have overheard you?”

  “You’re right. I was outside Linc’s lab after the explosion. I was in a huge crowd of students who wanted to see what the fuss was about. Any of them could have overheard me. I was probably talking too loudly anyway. What is it about cell phones that make people do that?”

  Elaine shook her head.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “I had that creepy feeling of being watched when I was in the crowd. I moved across the parking lot closer to the lab building and looked back to see if anyone was staring at me. But, of course, they were all staring in my direction. The building and the parking lot were where all the action was.”

  “Well, there you have it. You know how, but not who, or why. The person must have known you well enough to know your name and find your phone number. Or
do any of your suspects already have your number?”

  I thought for a moment.

  “Think out loud, Maggie,” Elaine said. “I want to follow along.”

  “Linc’s lab assistant has my card.”

  “You’re making enemies all over town. Who else?”

  “Boots has my name, it would be easy to look up my number. I guess the same would be true for Linc’s colleagues at Stanford. I introduced myself when I picked up Newton. And the kids at the garden, they could probably find any phone number on the Internet.”

  “Too many suspects and not enough answers.”

  “Elaine?”

  “What is it, dear?”

  “Would you be interested in doing some snooping at the community gardens with me? If you’re not too busy?”

  “I’d be delighted to, but how would that help? Are you just missing Tess? She’s been running around like a madwoman trying to find an alternative to using Linc’s house for her event.”

  “No, no. I really need your expertise,” I said. “Well, your expertise and your car. Something is going on there that I can’t put my finger on. I was hoping you might spot something I’d missed. You might know some of the older people who work the plots. They may well have been parents of students from your time at the middle school. The volunteers aren’t that much older than your former students. If you give them your principal look, it might make them come clean with what’s bothering them. I riled Boots when I was asking questions, and I thought with you there she might not be as dismissive. I’m hoping she has a copy of Linc’s mom’s will that we can look at.”

  “The will?”

  “Boot believes Linc’s mother’s will left him the house only as long as he wanted to live in it. Upon his death or if he were to move, she says the house would go to the community gardens—or maybe the three garden groups that run the land.”

  “Boots has leadership positions on all three groups, so essentially, the land would go to her and her pet projects,” Elaine said. “Are you thinking that would make her a suspect? I’ve always thought of her as beyond reproach.”

  “I know, but we don’t even know if she’s right about the will. If we knew for sure, it would help tailor the investigation.”

  “And you don’t trust the police to do this, because?”

  “You heard us talking about Detective Awful. He’s the one who arrested Linc. And now that the DA has released Linc, Awful is more determined than ever to put him behind bars. He’s every bit as dreadful as we described, maybe worse, and Paolo has neither the clout nor the job security to overrule him.” I took a sip of my coffee, sighed, and combed my hair with my fingers. “Jason says Apfel has ties to political movers and shakers all over the county. It’s only a matter of time before he finds some other way to go over the head of the district attorney.”

  “Okay, but what else?”

  “Huh?”

  “There must be some other reason you want me to go over there with you. What else are you looking for?”

  I couldn’t answer right away. I hadn’t slowed down enough in the last few days to think my reasoning through. Elaine waited.

  “I guess.”

  “Don’t guess, dear. Tell me what you know.”

  I liked Elaine, but sometimes she made me feel as though I’d been sent to the principal’s office and she would get the truth out of me, no matter what.

  “I told you that I had the sense that the volunteers I spoke with, the two young girls, were hiding something. Will you please come with me and see what you can get out of them? And see if you pick up on anything else? I think I’m missing something.” I paused, feeling as though I should come up with something more solid to answer Elaine’s question. “I guess I just want a second opinion.”

  “I can do that. I just wanted you to firm up your thinking. Let me grab my keys.”

  Elaine left a note on the table in case Stephen came back to find her gone. She picked up her purse and we headed outside. Blue sky extended as far as we could see with little wind and low humidity. At a balmy 72 degrees the weather was more reminiscent of early spring than late autumn.

  “After last night, I’ve been a little nervous about continuing this investigation,” I told Elaine as we walked to her car. “But Detective Awful is not going to give up on Linc—not unless we find out who actually killed Sarah.”

  “Why do you care so much, dear?”

  Before I could answer, a silver pickup careened around the corner with its wheels squealing.

  Chapter 17

  No one has time for doors that don’t unlock easily. Houses settle, locking mechanisms wear. There are lots of reasons for a lock in your home to become difficult to work. But there’s no reason not to fix it right away. Call a handyman or locksmith if you don’t have the skill to take care of it yourself. An easily working lock will save you time, frustration, and be safer for everyone.

  From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald,

  Simplicity Itself Organizing Services

  Friday, November 7, 11:00 a.m.

  I grabbed hold of Elaine’s arm and pulled her back toward the house. The truck continued down the street and disappeared from view, but we could hear its tires squealing as it drove way too fast for the narrow lanes in a residential neighborhood.

  “That’s the truck that chased us last night,” I told her, reaching into my backpack for my phone and breathing heavily as if I’d just run a mile or two. “He knows where I am, Elaine. We have to get out of here.”

  “I’m surprised that truck is still running, after all the damage it did to your car,” Elaine said, grabbing her own phone from the front pocket of her purse. “Do those trucks have reinforced side beams and bumpers? Maybe I need to get one.”

  I shook my head as I dialed Paolo’s number. “I have no idea. All I know is that the driver is crazy and probably a murderer. I need to tell Paolo we saw him.”

  I stared at my phone. “The line’s busy . . .” My voice trailed off as I realized I had no idea what to do next.

  “Are you okay, Maggie? Do you want to go back inside? You had quite the shock last night, little sleep, and now this.” I didn’t answer, so Elaine continued: “Try the number again. Could you have misdialed? Why would a police line ring busy?”

  I frowned. “I was tired before, but now I’m steamed. That silver truck guy must have been the one on the phone. He was watching me at Stanford, listening. He lured me here with that garbled phone call. He might have killed us. Or one of the dogs. Or a mom and a baby out for a walk.”

  “I’m thinking that if he’s working so hard to stop you from investigating, or doing whatever it is that you’re doing, then we’d better press on. He’s not targeting the police in Orchard View or Stanford or the county crime team. He’s after you, Maggie, which means you must be on to something. Something he wants to keep a secret.”

  “So, you still want to go to the garden?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We climbed into Elaine’s car. I buckled my seat belt and felt my heart pounding from the adrenaline rush of the silver truck’s appearance. I could no longer pretend that what I was doing was safe. Whatever information we were close to uncovering was worth killing for. I didn’t know how all the violent events of the last week were connected, but I was sure that they were. I just needed to prove it, and prove that Linc was as much a victim as Sarah.

  I dialed Paolo’s number again. I kept getting the “press three to reach dispatch” message. I didn’t want to talk to dispatch and several minutes had passed since we’d seen the truck. It would be useless to call Paolo now. I sighed and returned the phone to my backpack.

  I took a deep breath. Was I being reckless to pursue this case? Was I endangering my family? I shook my head, trying to clear it. I thought of the alternative. I could leave the investigation to Detective Awful, but what good would that do? The chief had apparently told the district attorney he’d assign someone else to the case. But that hadn’t happened yet. And who
ever took Awful’s place would need some time to get up to speed. We could all be dead by then.

  I thought of my dreams for my family and my business. Did I want to live in a town where someone could murder a school librarian and get away with it? Sarah and Linc had been planning a future together. Their dreams had ended. I was afraid to continue, but I was even more terrified to live in a world where a person this evil could thrive.

  I looked at Elaine, who had paused in the process of inserting her key in the ignition. “Are you still game?” I asked.

  “To boldly go . . .” said Elaine as if she knew what I’d been thinking. “We can do this.”

  We spent the entire drive across town searching for the silver pickup with the scraped-up sides and crumpled front end.

  I wondered how Jason was doing and hoped we’d get an update soon. Stephen must be frantic. I was sympathetic to both of them, but a small, unattractive part of me was frustrated because Stephen hadn’t had time to do background checks on my suspects.

  I bit my lip and scolded myself for my self-centered thinking.

  “That was a heavy sigh,” Elaine said. “What’s up?”

  “Elaine, you’ve lived here forever, right?”

  “Since the days of the dinosaurs, dear.”

  “I didn’t mean that, but you were with the school district for a long time.”

  “Is there a point to this or are you reviewing my history so you can write my eulogy after Mr. Silver Truck tries to run us over and I leap in front of you, sacrificing myself to save you so your sons don’t grow up motherless?”

  I snorted. “That’s some imagination, Elaine. Why do you get to be the heroine?”