“By all means I’d like to talk with your friend,” Mason said.
Never one to miss an opportunity, Lurleen glanced at her watch and pulled out her cell phone.
“It’s after ten,” Mason said.
“She’ll be up.” Lurleen started to dial. “And she’ll love to hear the info about Billy Joe. She’s the one who gave him the nickname Bad Boy Billy. As to Charlie Flack, she’ll find out about him in a heartbeat.”
“Where does her loyalty creed come in?” I asked.
“She’s super loyal,” Lurleen said proudly, “to herself and to a few close friends like me. She has so much dirt on everyone, her job is secure for the next twenty years if she wants it to be. She talks about leaving, and frankly there are a dozen people who would pay her big bucks to get her out of there. But she has her own reasons for staying. I think she’s involved with someone. Someone high up. She’s never come clean about that. Marie knows when to keep her mouth shut.”
Lurleen listened to her phone for several seconds. “Call me whenever you get this, night or day,” she said and hung up.
Mason handed Lurleen his card. “When she does call you back, please give her my number and ask her to call me.”
“Bien sur,” she said.
Mason stood up. “It’s been a long night.” He looked over at Dan, who seemed to be settling in for a comfortable evening next to Lurleen. “I’m sure you have work to do outside to secure the area.”
Dan jumped up as if he’d been shot. “Yes, sir,” he said. He wasn’t being lazy—I think he’d just forgotten for a moment he was on the clock. Lurleen’s presence can do that to a person.
Dan gave Lurleen a tender look that said he’d take care of everything and she was not to worry about any intruder.
Lurleen reached up and squeezed his arm, indicating that such a strong young man could provide all the protection she could ever need.
I walked Mason to the door. He leaned in close to me, leaving me a little breathless. “We’ll catch these guys,” he said. “We’ll find Ellie’s murderer and keep the kids safe.”
“I know.” I backed away from him. There were too many pheromones zipping around the room.
He looked a little hurt but left without another word.
Chapter Nine
We all woke up bleary eyed the next morning. Everyone except Jason, that is. He was running around the house at six in the morning shouting at Hermione to be still and wait for him. Apparently, my infinitely patient dog had grown weary of being a launching pad for Jason’s action figure adventures. I stumbled out of the guest room, gave Jason a peck on the head, and put coffee on. I was pretty certain Lurleen wasn’t an early riser, so I shushed Jason and made sure Lurleen’s bedroom door was shut tight.
There wasn’t a lot to eat in Lurleen’s kitchen. No wonder she stayed so slim. I told Jason to sit tight while I dressed and then he could help me with a mission to bring food from my house. He thought that was a great idea. I took the world’s quickest shower, dressed in two minutes, and was back in the kitchen pouring coffee in five. That was apparently enough time for Jason to disappear. I could feel myself starting to panic. How could I lose a five-year-old boy inside a house? Had someone broken in? Nothing looked disturbed. Hermione stood at the front door, sniffing and whining.
Outside I found Jason and Dan whispering on the porch.
Thank God.
“There you are,” Dan said. “It was quiet all night. I drove over to your house. Quiet there as well. Jason says you’re headed that way. Need a lift?”
“I wouldn’t mind the security,” I said, walking toward my car. “Let’s take my car. I’ve got Jason’s booster seat in the back.”
“I don’t need no booster seat,” Jason said.
“It lets you see better,” I said as I buckled him into the back seat. I scanned Lurleen’s street. No black truck. No cars of any description on the road. It was just beginning to get light. “It seems safe enough.”
We were there in three minutes. Outside my front door was a florist box. Dan said it wasn’t there when he checked on the house and insisted on looking it over before he gave it to me. Inside was a yellow rose. Thinking of you, the note said. I’ll call later. It wasn’t signed. Yellow roses are my favorite flowers. Could Lurleen have told Mason that? And why would Mason be sending me flowers? Was this his idea of taking things slow?
I stuffed three grocery bags with everything I thought the kids might want to eat. Dan and Jason carted the bags out for me. I carried the box with the yellow rose.
When we got home, Lurleen was standing at the front door, hands on her hips. “Where have you been?” she said to us. She looked a little like the Madwoman of Chaillot, and I said as much. That seemed to calm her down. She patted her mass of unruly curls, wrapped her bathrobe more tightly around her body, and smiled. The smile was meant primarily for Dan.
“I thought you had deserted us,” she said to him.
He blushed. “No way.”
Lurleen opened the door just wide enough to allow Dan to squeeze through with his bags of food. He couldn’t avoid brushing up against her.
“Silly me,” Lurleen said. “I haven’t given you any room to breathe.” She moved about an inch to one side. Jason scooted in behind Dan a second before Lurleen let the screen door slam in my face. It wasn’t intentional—she just had other things on her mind. She floated after Dan to the kitchen while I struggled with the catch on the screen door and my florist box.
Lurleen finally registered my existence as I was searching for a bud vase in her butler’s pantry.
“What are you looking for, chérie? Are you inspecting my kitchen for some reason? Do you now work for the board of health? The children will get no germs from me, I can assure you.”
“I know, Lurleen. The kids could eat off the kitchen floor.” And it was true. Lurleen was as tidy as she was prompt.
“Did you tell Mason about my passion for yellow roses?” I asked, showing her the box.
“Not me.” She examined the rose and then the card. “Nice note, but why didn’t he just sign the card?”
“I don’t know.” I found a crystal bud vase for the rose and left the card beside it on the sill above the sink.
“Good choice,” Lurleen said, pointing to the vase. “A gift from Jacques many years ago.”
“Jacques?” Danny asked.
“A boyfriend from long, long ago. I was little more than a child at the time. Nothing to worry about.” Lurleen smiled sweetly at him. She stood close to him at the island where he was unloading the bags. “I was just whipping up some crepes when Lucie came into the kitchen, wondering where Jason was. Well, that set my head dans tous ses etats.”
“Set her head in a tizzy,” Dan translated. “Desole,” he whispered to her as he started to unload the bags. I joined him, opening cupboards to decide where everything might go. Lucie stood quietly at my side, putting the cold things in the refrigerator.
“You should apologize to Lucie not me,” Lurleen said with a touch of righteous indignation.
Lucie remained silent.
“I’m sorry, Luce,” I said. “All my fault. I thought I could run over, get some food, and be back before you woke up. I won’t do anything like that again.”
“It’s okay,” Lucie said. “When I saw you were gone with Jason, I didn’t worry so much. I knew you’d take care of him.”
“Thanks, honey. Now, what is this about your fixing crepes for breakfast?” I said to Lurleen.
“Ah chérie, you think I am just a little puff of French pastry, but every respectable French woman must know how to cook.” She poured some batter into a crepe pan. “Don’t you remember I went to the Cordon Vert for a course last summer?” she whispered.
“The Cordon Vert?” I asked. “You mean the Cordon Bleu.”
“No,” she said and sigh
ed. “They made a special course for me. Vert for beginner. Bleu will be next year I hope. Anyway, I now make very good crepes.”
I smelled something burning.
“Oh, no,” Lurleen cried. “My crepes!”
I grabbed the pan off the stove but not in time to save her charred crepe. “Everyone out of here,” I ordered, “so Lurleen and I can fix breakfast. Lucie, you may stay and help.”
Jason and Dan seemed only too willing to leave. Lurleen gave me a look and her lower lip protruded suspiciously.
“Did I rain on your parade?” I asked.
“Un peu. I wanted to show Dan I could cook, and then you swept in and took over.”
“I’m sorry. Bad habit of mine.” I tasted her batter. “This is delicious. Do you want Lucie and me to stay out of your way?”
“No. They sent me home with the recipe for the batter if I promised not to darken their door again anytime soon,” Lurleen said. “I only lasted half a day.”
“Well, you got the best part of the deal,” I said. “May I help you with the cooking part?”
Lurleen nodded. “I followed the directions exactly,” she said. “I mixed the batter last night and left it in the refrigerator. And then the desastre.”
“Not to worry.” I pointed Lucie in the direction of the refrigerator. “Find some strawberries, Luce, and wash them. We’ll slice them up, sweeten them, and put them in the middle of our crepes. Let’s work on the crepes first. The secret is to be quick and confident.” I washed the non-stick pan, heated it, coated it with butter, and added the batter to the center, swirling it around the pan. I flipped the crepe over in thirty seconds. In another ten seconds it was done. Lurleen watched my every move as if I were a brain surgeon. “Now your turn, Lurleen.”
After two or three tries, Lurleen produced the perfect crepe. She beamed. “I’m a French chef! Look, Lucie, I’m a real French chef!”
Lucie patted Lurleen’s arm the way you might pat a younger sibling who had just learned to tie her shoe. “Great job.”
Lucie and I finished with the strawberries and invited the boys in for an excellent breakfast. Dan and Lurleen cleaned up while I talked to the kids.
“No school today. I brought home the work you’ll need to do. The teachers know you’re going to be out another day.”
“Why?” Jason asked.
“You know the truck that chased us yesterday?” I said.
Jason nodded.
“The man in the truck may be a bad man, so until the police catch him, I want you to stay with Lurleen. Are you okay with that?”
“I can find the bad man,” Jason said.
“I know, but right now I want you to take care of Lucie and Lurleen. Will you do that?”
Jason nodded solemnly and then took off to get his superheroes. When he was gone, Lucie whispered to me, “I’ll help you take care of Jason. Don’t worry, Aunt Di.”
I said goodbye to Lurleen and Danny and managed to get to work early. Vic took a moment to ask about the children. I said hi to the volunteer docs from the Centers for Disease Control and nodded at the interpreters, who were chatting in the waiting room.
I loved the clinic, and it was good to be back for a full day of work. A microcosm of the world, it took care of some of my wanderlust. I suppose it was most of all the underlying warmth of the place that attracted me. Every day was unexpected, full of surprises, but amid the chaos we were all working together. The families knew it, and we knew it.
By noon, I’d seen one child from Burma with undiagnosed hearing loss, two from Afghanistan who were basically healthy but undernourished, and a worrisome infant from the Congo with severe malnutrition and failure to thrive. This one we sent on to the hospital. In between scheduled appointments we had walk-ins and follow-ups. Every interaction took time. I couldn’t rush, and I couldn’t be half there. I didn’t have a minute to worry about the kids at home. I checked in with Lurleen at lunchtime.
“So glad you called. Marie got back to me and does she have news! Can you talk? Is it private? Can anyone overhear us?”
“I’m in my office, and I’ve just shut my door. No one can hear us. Tell me.”
“Well, Marie doesn’t know Charlie Flack—she’s checking on that—but she did know Ellie. Are you sure you want to hear all this? You may not like it.”
“If you’re going to tell me Ellie was up to something, I think I already know that. You don’t have to spare me.”
“Okay then. Here goes. Ellie started working at Sandler’s about six months ago as a receptionist in the new products division. It’s a pretty high-security place, so Marie isn’t sure how she got the clearance to work there or who recommended her. Sandler Senior normally wouldn’t allow a new employee anywhere near that division. Especially when there is a product in the pipeline, and boy is there a product in the pipeline! Marie says it could revolutionize the company, set it on a totally new track. All about health and good taste.
“Anyway, Ellie met a lot of bigwigs. They seemed to take a real interest in her, if you know what I mean.”
“Ellie was beautiful. And if she turned that smile on you, look out. So you’re saying people got interested in her romantically.”
“Exactly.”
“That would explain all the clothes in her closet. They looked expensive and dressy. Perfect for a night on the town with some executive.”
“She started to make the party scene according to Marie. Showed up everywhere with all sorts of men. Billy Joe was one of them. But he wasn’t the only one. She didn’t necessarily go home with the man she came in with, and that made a lot of the wives mad.”
A knock on my door interrupted our conversation. A nurse said we had several walk-ins and asked if I was available to help. I nodded yes and mouthed, Five minutes.
“I’ve got to go, Lurleen. I’ll be home as early as I can to hear the rest. You gave Marie Mason’s number? And the kids are okay?”
“Of course. You worry like une vielle poule.”
“An old hen? That’s a French expression? I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”
Lurleen paused. “Perhaps I made it up,” she said in a small voice.
I realized I’d hurt her feelings by challenging her French authenticity. “Well, it’s a good phrase,” I said. “I do tend to worry like an old hen. I’ll see you soon.”
I hung up worrying about my dear friend. For all her bravado, Lurleen had the sensitivity of a wounded child, and I wondered who it was that had been cruel to her when she was young.
The nurse knocked once more, this time with a patient for me to see.
The afternoon was as busy as the morning. A family of five children from Ethiopia appeared without an appointment. Vic managed to triage them to various available staff. I met with the oldest girl, Beza, fifteen. She’d been in the US for several months. She spoke excellent English, but she couldn’t seem to be specific about her complaints. Her stomach ached. Her head hurt. She had no fever, no cough. When I asked her about what was going on at home, she burst into tears. A new uncle had come to live with them. She wouldn’t tell me more. Vic and I consulted and got a refugee social worker on the case. She would look into things. This was a hard one. Sometimes, medicine couldn’t fix things. I finished up around five-thirty and turned my attention to home.
There was quite a reception waiting for me at Lurleen’s. Mason’s Jaguar was out front. The kids met me on the stone walkway with Hermione in tow. Mason, Dan, and Lurleen stood more demurely in the doorway. Everyone was smiling, even Hermione. It’s not every dog that can smile, but when you find one who does, you know you have a treasure.
Chapter Ten
Jason ran along the walkway to me, arms wide open, wanting to be picked up and swung around. I happily obliged. Lucie waited patiently until Jason was back on terra firma, and then she grabbed my right hand and skipped along the grass n
ext to me. What a joy to see both children acting like kids again.
Lurleen, Dan, and Mason stood near the doorway and ushered me inside. Mason brought me a glass of white wine once I sat down on the couch. I half expected Hermione to trot up with a pair of slippers. Instead, Majestic leaped up and settled in my lap.
“Something smells delicious,” I said.
“I helped cook,” Lucie piped up. “It’s beef burg onion. Did I say that right, Lurleen?”
“Close enough. Boeuf bourguignonne,” Lurleen replied with a pronunciation that sounded exactly like Lucie’s.
“You made boeuf bourguignonne?” I asked.
Lurleen blushed. “Not exactly. Danny is the chef. But I was the sous-chef. I chopped the onions.”
Dan smiled modestly. “How ’bout I take the kids outside for a little while and give the dish a few minutes more to simmer. Y’all can talk.” Lucie took Dan’s hand, and Jason pleaded for a piggyback ride. Dan hoisted him up one-handed.
Mason sat down beside me. “How was your day?” he asked.
“Busy. The way I like it. Those kids and their families struggle with so much. A new country. A language they sometimes don’t understand. Thank goodness we have all the support we do in the clinic. One girl in particular worried me today. Fifteen. Trouble at home with some newly arrived ‘uncle.’ We’ve got a social worker looking into it, but who knows what’s going on at home.”
Lurleen sat very still as I told them both the story. “Social workers can only do so much,” she said. “Their caseloads are enormous.”
“You’re right, but we have a good one. She’s paid by the clinic, and I’ll follow up with her.” I watched Lurleen pull on one strand of hair and then another. “Are you all right, Lurleen?”
Too Many Crooks Spoil the Plot Page 8