“Tell me again how well you know Bondesky?” he asked as he began to rummage through the drawers of Bondesky’s desk.
I felt behind the file cabinet for the metal box that held the key and covered my action with saying, “Oh, for years and years. I used to come here with my father when I was a little girl. Bondesky’s computer was the first one I ever saw. Of course, it’s changed now. Modern computer. Bondesky says Dell is the best. That’s what I have. A Dell and a Dell laptop. Seems strange to see his computer turned off. I don’t think I have ever seen it off before.”
As I babbled, I opened the file cabinet and went straight to the file marked Huckleberry. Instead of the huge, thick file I remembered from previous visits, there was only one neon orange file with my name on it. “What kind of computer do you have?” I asked to the man across the room as I reached inside the color-screaming file.
“What are you doing over there?” He started across the room.
I palmed the object in the file and turned just as he approached. “I thought I would find something in here. This is his special client file, but my file is empty. See?”
“My name is not here.”
“Maybe you’re not special,” I guessed.
Hamra gave me a disgusted look and continued to rifle through the files. “All this is garbage. I bet he kept the real info on the computer. See if you can get it to work.” It was a demand, not a request.
I sat down behind Bondesky’s desk — a first for me — and switched on the computer, which did its buzz and hum to wake up. “Its password protected,” I told him.
“What does that mean? Password protected?” Hamra hovered over my shoulder to look at the screen.
“You’re computer illiterate, aren’t you? I should have guessed when you didn’t answer about what kind of computer you had.” I was sure some smugness had seeped into my voice. After all, I had owned and operated my own computer system for over two months now. I was a pro. I went into my instructor voice, à la Evelyn Potter, who had taught me the basics. “All PCs — that’s personal computers — have the option to be secured by their owners. You can choose to input a private code word so that someone else can’t access your files.”
“Skip the lecture, Honey. I understand codes. So, what’s Bondesky’s, do you think?”
“Now, Mr. Hamra, how on earth would I know?” I could guess, but I wasn’t going to share that info with the Jolly Green Giant.
“How much money do you have?” he asked unexpectedly.
“You’re going to rob me?”
“God, of all the ditzy dames to run into . . .”
“Because if you are, I have only twelve dollars and thirty-two cents on me.”
It was amazing to see Hamra run his hand over his bald head like he had a full head of hair. He said in what was obviously a very patient voice, “I asked because if you’re in the same situation I am, you want to know what happened to Bondesky and what happened to your money. And if you want to know as badly as I do, you’ll start trying to figure out Bondesky’s security password. Now.” And he shouted the last word.
“Okay, okay. I’ll try.” And I keyed in the obvious: Bondesky. Then, Steven. Followed by Money, Secrets, Legal, and Illegal. Nothing. I tried Dell and then the word Password. All were rejected by a buzzer, which sounded like a wrong answer on Wheel of Fortune. I even vainly put in my name, but to no avail.
“What about his date of birth?” asked Hamra.
“I don’t know his date of birth,” I told him.
“I’m going to look in the gray file cabinet. Maybe there’s something in there about him.”
While he was across the room, I typed in the word Clover, and the computer came to life with a tinkle of ta-da music.
“What was that?” Hamra wanted to know.
“It means we’ve overloaded the computer,” I replied as my right knee pushed the glowing red button at the side of the desk. The screen groaned and went dark.
“We’ve killed it?”
“Yep. I wouldn’t know how to get it back,” I lied.
“Damn, and there’s nothing here in these files that gives me a clue, either,” he said.
“Well, this has been fun and all, but I’ve really got to run now,” I told him.
Hamra put a restraining hand on my arm, “Not so fast. You’re my only clue.”
I’ve been called a lot of things — happens when your first name is Honey — but never a clue before. “No, I’m clueless,” I retorted. “And I’m outta here.”
“How will I find you?” he asked.
“You’re the pie, you figure it out.” I snatched up my purse and ran out of the building.
FIVE
“Where’s Bailey’s key?” I asked as I ran into the house.
Janie walked into the foyer. “Ask him. He hasn’t left it for a minute.”
And there was the blond lab, sitting patiently by the tall shelves, right where I now remembered I had put the key that came in the mail.
I was astounded. “He knows it’s for him?”
“Obviously,” Janie replied. “And he ate the envelope. But what did you find out at Bondesky’s?”
“That he’s gone, and I met the most awful man who’s also looking for him. And I found this key.” I held up the object I had found in the colorful file that had my name on it.
“A key? Is it the same key?”
“I’m going to find out now.” I reached for the key just as the telephone rang.
I looked at the caller ID. It was my best friend Steven Hyatt in Hollywood. Ordinarily, we played a word game with unknown poets when we talked to each other on the phone. It was a habit we had started back when were both misfit teenagers and each other’s only friend. Corny, I know, but an affectionate habit we still delighted in.
But not today. I was impatient as I answered the third ring, “Yes? Steven? What?”
To my surprise, he didn’t react to my rudeness. “I have bad news,” he said.
Well, that would explain his lapse in the game. Mine was due to the two keys I held in my hand, trying to figure out if they matched.
“Oh, no. What?” I asked as I folded the keys together in my palm.
“The movie sucks. Big time. The preview audiences hate the ending. We’ve canceled the opening. I am so sorry, Honey.”
The reason Steven Hyatt was expressing his regrets to me was that I had invested a lot of money in the film he had directed, which had been scheduled to open in New York next week.
The news was a real shock. “What are you going to do, Steven?”
“Well, I’m going back to Australia and shoot another couple of scenes. I think I can fix this,” he answered, and I could imagine him running his bony hand through his wiry brown hair, dislodging his glasses with the gesture.
“What? And not have the dingo dogs eat the survivors?”
Steven sighed into the phone. “I know. I know. That part always bothered you. Okay, you’re right and I’m wrong. But I can fix it, honestly. It’s just a matter of looking at the scene with another angle in mind.”
“I trust you,” I said quickly. Steven could get so depressed without encouragement. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow. The sooner the better, and the time window is right. I can get the principals back for a quick shoot if I go now. I’ll write the new ending on the plane. I should have it in the can by end of next week.”
I kept up the encouraging. “Well, that sounds wonderful. Just a little glitch and delay. No big problem.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, there is. Honey, I hate to ask you, but do you think you can advance me another couple of hundred K?
“I would love to, Steven. You know that. But I can’t.” I hated saying that to him.
“I understand, and I don’t blame you. You’ve already given me too much. Don’t worry. I’ll figure out how to get the additional backing. Somehow.”
Janie had been standing by my side. She nudged me in the arm and said, “A
sk him for some money.”
I put my hand over the phone. “Hush, I can’t. He’s asking me for some.”
She raised her eyebrows in a question mark. “Oh? Well, it was a thought.”
I said into the phone, “Steven, its not that. I would love to give you the money, but . . .”
“Honey, it’s okay. And I’ll get by. And you’re right. It’s time I stood on my own two feet,” was his reply that interrupted my explanation.
Well, now, that part was true. Steven had a habit of loping through life like a bunny across. the fields. Whatever he found in his journeys he used and enjoyed and then hopped off to another adventure and opportunity. He kept telling me I needed to grow up, settle down. Maybe it was time the shoe was on his foot.
I swallowed my original retort and said, “Well, I wish you all the luck in the world, you know that.”
“Yeah. And Honey, you know I love you.”
This declaration of love and affection from Steven Hyatt was a recent development. We had been friends for so long. It was still hard for me to realize that he cared for me in a new way. I was still sorting it out, but I just said, “Yes, Steven. And I love you, too.” And I did. I just didn’t know which kind of love.
Steven was still talking. “I know that you’ve been involved with Harry for a long time, and that he wants to marry you. And I like Harry and all. It’s just that when I realized that you might marry him that I got to thinking. That’s when I knew that I loved you and wanted to marry you. I don’t want to lose you, Honey.”
Now it was my turn to say, “I know. I know. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m not lost. I’m right here. And I haven’t made up my mind about anything. Actually, that’s a little hard to do, anyway. Harry is still in England. I think. Steven, no matter what my answer to you is, I have to see Harry first.”
“That’s only fair,” he responded.
“Anyway, nothing will happen while you’re in Australia. I promise you that.”
“I love you, Honey,” he said again. “And I’ve got to go. Plans to make and miles to cover. Remember, ‘Success is failure turned inside out . . .’ ”
Now that was more like it; Steven was playing our poet game. “Right, and ‘It’s when things seem worst that You Mustn’t Quit.’ Good luck, sweetie,” I said, and I meant it.
I hung up the phone, and Janie pounced on me with questions. “What on earth happened to Steven? Why was he asking for money? Why didn’t you tell him about Steven Bondesky’s disappearance?
“Hold on. He’s had a setback in his movie release, but he’s on his way to Australia to fix it. And he wanted more money for the extra expense. I didn’t tell him about our financial problems because there is nothing, he can do about it, and I didn’t want to worry him while he was on location.”
Janie said, “Oh, my,” as she took in the information.
Then she asked, “What about the other key? Where did you say you found it? What’s it to?”
I remembered the keys I held tightly in my fist, their sharp edges making a red imprint in my palm. “In Bondesky’s office. In a special file with my name on it.”
“Is it the same as the other one?” she asked.
“No. No, they don’t match, except that they are both brass keys. And now I’ve forgotten which is which.”
SIX
We sat at my dining room table and tried to sort it all out.
“Bottom line,” said Janie. “How much money — how much cash — do we have?”
“Bottom line, I have about two thousand dollars in cash. Oh, and twelve dollars and change in my purse. I know that will cover the utilities and get us through the grocery store checkout line. But for how long?”
“Hopefully,” she replied, “long enough to find Steven Bondesky.”
“Right, but what if we do find him, and there is still no money?”
“Hmm, maybe you shouldn’t have quit your job?”
I had. Quit, that is. Several weeks ago. When things were going well, and I had planned to travel. I hadn’t wanted to leave my employer, Constant Books, out on a limb while I chased through England looking for the lost Harry. Someone else had already taken on my book route through south Texas. I had tried staying on for a while, becoming Constant Books’ computer liaison between the company’s inventory and small, local bookstores that were just beginning to set up computerized systems. I had enjoyed the work but still didn’t think it was fair to stay on if I was planning to be gone so much.
And of course, then I had the money. The four million dollars.
“If I hadn’t insisted you get that money out of the house, we’d still be okay,” said Janie ruefully.
“No, you were right. No one should keep four million dollars in their upright piano.” I tried to joke. “Not if they’re planning a concert career, anyway.”
Janie shook her head. “You found the money in the house. It should have stayed in the house. And it’s not like you can even play chopsticks.”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere. Where’s that list?” I asked.
“Here.” And Janie moved her notebook to expose the written suggestions we had agreed upon. “First, we call Silas Sampson at the police station and report Bondesky’s absence.”
“Let’s wait on that one, Janie. When I was there, I found I could get into Bondesky’s computer. I want to check what I can while the office is still ‘open.’ ”
“Okay, next is find Evelyn Potter. I know she’s missing, too, but I can’t fathom them — Steven Bondesky and her — together.”
“I can. Evelyn had designs on Bondesky from the start.”
“Poor choice for her, I’d say.” Janie shook her head at the image of the grizzly accountant with the immaculate secretary.
I pointed to Evelyn’s name on the list “At least I know where I can start looking for her. I’m sure if she’s not with Bondesky, she’s in the Hill Country with Kantor.”
“Honey, you’re getting so good at this. Of course, Kantor.”
Kantor was the older gentleman who had relinquished his book rep route to an untried, green English major fresh out of college: me.
Before he had turned me loose on his precious customers—mostly small-town, local bookstore owners — he had given me a lesson on bookselling and on life. The love of independent bookstores and their devoted owners that I possessed came from Kantor’s respect and friendship with them. He had tried hard — and successfully — to instill that same respect and affection for his work in me before he had given up his job at Constant Books to build a prefab cabin deep in Texas’s Hill Country, a dream of his come true. That’s what he said, but in actuality, he was afraid of the computer explosion that had hit the publishing industry.
I had recently invited my former mentor to join me in Jacksboro, Texas, when I had converted a small bookstore to a computer inventory system. Evelyn Potter had really been the ramrod of the work group I assembled for the job. Computer-shy though he was, Kantor had had the good nature to attend, and an interesting relationship had developed between him and the older but sexy secretary.
“Maybe she’s teaching him how to compute,” I told Janie.
She put a check mark after Evelyn Potter’s name. “Okay, I’ll try to reach her at Kantor’s. I’ve already tried her home. No answer. What else?”
“There’s these two keys. Now, we know one came for Bailey, so we’ve got to figure that it was from someone who knows him.”
Janie’s eyes widened. “Harry, you think?”
“Possibly. We know Bailey went berserk when he smelled the envelope and the key. So, yes, possibly from Harry. Let’s see what he thinks now. Here, Bailey,” I called.
The Lab didn’t have far to go. He got up from his resting position at my feet and shuffled over. I held out the two keys for him to sniff, but he just licked my hand and gave me a questioning look. “It’s too late,” I said. “Whatever smell was on the keys is gone. I’ve handled them too much.”
Janie defended the
dog. “Well, there was that initial reaction. We can’t forget that. Yes, I like the idea that the key that came in the mail was from Harry. I wish Bailey hadn’t eaten the envelope though.”
“I looked at the envelope pretty carefully this morning. I don’t think it would have told us anything anyway.” I patted Bailey’s head to show him it was all right that he had eaten a clue. He just sighed a heavy sigh and lay back down at my feet.
Bailey wasn’t my dog. Not really. When my friend, customer, and lover, Harry Armstead, had left for England a couple of months ago, he had shipped the Labrador from his home on South Padre Island to me in Fort Worth. He’d closed his bookstore, Sandscript, on the island and just enclosed a quick note and Bailey’s records with the crate that was ultimately delivered to my house by a taxi.
Just as I had become accustomed to having my friend Janie living with me, I had become fond of the dog who was never far from my sight and who shared a pillow with me at night.
“So, if the key is from Harry, what’s it to? What does it unlock?” Janie asked.
“Well, the only place I know that Harry knows is the bookstore on Padre Island. I’m betting it’s to Sandscript.”
“I thought you already had a key to Sandscript.”
“No. Oh, Harry wanted to give me one, but it seemed too personal,” I replied.
She stared at me, “You two were lovers for several years, and a key to his bookstore was too personal?”
“It was his home too,” I said defensively. I’m not as weird in my actions and reasons now as I was then. Suddenly it seemed a silly thing for me not to have accepted the offer of a key. I’ve come a long way.
Janie shrugged. “Okay, but now we do have the key. So, I guess this means we go to Padre and see what’s there?”
“Maybe,” I mused. “What I can’t figure out is why a similar key was in Bondesky’s files. I have a feeling the two are connected somehow.”
Janie suddenly screamed. It wasn’t the same scream she uses when she sees a dead body, but it was enough to startle both me and the dog at my feet. “What? What?”
The Complete Honey Huckleberry Box Set Page 37