“Keep on going to the end. My office is the corner one. Let me take your jacket.”
“That’s all right, I can’t visit for long. I had to come downtown today so I thought I’d stop by for a minute. I have a quick question, if you can answer it.”
“Please, have a seat.” He ushered me into his office and sat behind his desk, leaning back in a plush ergonomic chair.”
“Actually, I wanted to show you something. I’m hoping you recognize this.” I unzipped my purse and pulled out the bracelet. I’d rewrapped it in tissue paper. I wanted to show it to Rob without its Rochecault box, to gauge his reaction.
“It’s something we …” A little white lie, but I didn’t want to tip anyone off that I’d searched Moira’s apartment alone. “Something we found in Moira’s apartment, and Geneva thought it might belong to Brooke.” I placed it in the middle of his desk and unwrapped the tissue. Rob looked at it for a moment and said nothing.
“Could this by any chance belong to Brooke?”
“I don’t think so. At least, I don’t recognize it. Where did you find it again?”
“In a drawer in Moira’s apartment. It looks like sapphires and small diamonds and something else too.”
“Well, you know, it could be a fake, some kind of iolite quartz or something.”
I pushed the bracelet closer to him across the desk. “It appears to be the real thing to me. And I’m sure the setting is platinum. Here, have a closer look.”
Rob picked up a pair of reading glasses from his desk and slipped them on. He lifted the bracelet in its bed of tissues and held it under the desk lamp for a closer examination.
“I don’t know what to say, Julia. I’ve just never seen this before, so I don’t think it’s Brooke’s. She does have a few nice pieces in a safe at home. I can ask her. But if it’s Moira’s, I really can’t imagine how she would have been able to buy anything expensive.”
“I thought it was worth a try to ask. I’m sorry to bother you at work.”
He shrugged. “I’m no jeweler. I don’t know if I could tell real from fake anyway. Maybe you should have it appraised.”
“That’s an idea. I just thought I’d ask before I gave it back to the Learys. I left a message for Brooke, but please tell her not to bother.”
“Yes.” Rob looked down at his hands. “She’s … having a very tough time of it right now. You can understand.” Then he glanced up. “Listen, I’m just about finished with this.” He waved his arm over several stacks of paper on his desk. “Why don’t you join me for lunch?”
I hesitated. I had to admit to a certain amount of curiosity about Rob. Besides, I thought I might be able to pump him for more information about Brooke and Moira’s relationship.
“Sure. Why not?” I smiled.
“Great. Tell you what. Let’s go to the Palace, the Garden Court Restaurant. I haven’t been there for a long time. How does that sound? You can help me celebrate my proven innocence, thank God.”
“The Palace? Wow. You know, I haven’t been to the restaurant since it was renovated. I’d be happy to.”
“We can take my car. It’s parked downstairs, it’ll save us the walk. I’ve got to be back here in a couple of hours for a meeting anyway.”
The Palace Hotel is old, and some say it’s haunted by its builder. It’s one of the few remaining structures in San Francisco that survived the great quake of 1906, only to be burned in a later fire. A recent restoration returned the hotel to its turn-of-the-century grandeur, complete with Austrian crystal chandeliers, marble columns, potted palms, and a center courtyard restaurant topped with a stained glass dome. The original builder, William Ralston, had not lived to see his dream realized. When a run on his bank in 1873 left him destitute, he was seen thrashing in the Bay while taking his daily swim. A few days later, his body surfaced. Autopsy results indicated he died of a stroke, but history buffs still claim it was suicide.
The maitre d’ seated us quickly even though we had no reservation. I hoped Rob was footing the bill and glad I hadn’t worn jeans. I decided to splurge on the glazed duckling. Rob opted for oysters.
Once the waiter moved away, Rob said, “Brooke and I have decided to bring Ashley to the wake whenever it’s held, but just for a little while. The hell with Dan and what he thinks. It may sound strange, but children can have a hard time dealing with death and this may make it easier for Ashley.”
“So do adults. Have a hard time, I mean. But why does Dan seem …
I guess what I’m asking is, what happened to cause Dan’s bad feelings toward you? Was he always like that?”
“I believe so. On Dan’s part, at any rate. Frankly, I think he’s jealous.”
“In what way?”
“Of my success. Of the money I make now. I think it’s a working class attitude toward someone who’s raking in big bucks. But believe me, I didn’t always have a large paycheck, especially when I worked for the DA’s office. That was a pittance.” He laughed. “Look, Julia, just between you and me …” He hesitated. “I don’t think Dan’s the nice guy he pretends to be. The family won’t admit this, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t somehow involved in drugs with Moira.”
Steve the mechanic’s remarks about Moira and her brother flashed through my mind. “Do you know something you haven’t told the family?” I asked slowly. “Dan seems …”
“I know. Like a really regular guy who works hard for a living. Runs his own business and all that stuff. But he and Moira used to hang out a lot together and she never had any money, so how did she afford some of her habits?”
“I understand she caused some trouble for Brooke in the past.”
Rob grimaced. “You better believe it. One time, she stole Brooke’s credit cards and went on a binge. She ran up thousands of dollars before Brooke discovered their loss.”
“What did Brooke do?”
“Well, she didn’t realize it at first. She reported the cards as stolen, and then later figured out it was Moira. God, I was pissed. Brooke wouldn’t press charges and paid off all the cards. That was the kind of crap Moira pulled. You can see why I didn’t trust her around Ashley.” Rob put down his silverware and took a sip of water. “Frankly …”
“Yes?”
He hesitated for a moment and then made up his mind to speak. “This might sound terrible, but hear me out.”
I waited.
“Both Dan and Moira stand … stood … to gain if Brooke were to die.”
I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth. “What are you saying?”
“Brooke has the money in our family. Certainly more than I do. She has a trust fund set up for Ashley, and I’m the executor of that, but a good part of her money is in trust for her mother, and Dan’s the executor. If something happened to Brooke, God forbid, Dan would get his hands on it. He could go through everything.”
“What does this have to do with Moira being shot?”
Rob hesitated. “I know this will sound awful … but what if …” He hesitated again. “What if it was Brooke, not Moira, who was the intended victim? Brooke goes down to the garage every night to let the dog out. What if they intended to shoot her, but ended up taking a shot at me?”
“They?”
“Whoever was there in the garage with Moira.”
“That’s horrible. I can’t even conceive of that, Rob.”
“I know. I hesitate to even say it. But the thought has crossed my mind. Julia, that night …” Rob trailed off. “Was Moira able to speak? Did she say anything to you?”
I didn’t want the picture of Moira bleeding to death to flash in front of my eyes. I did my best to push it away. In retrospect, though, I was almost sure she was gone before I even reached her. “No. Nothing.” I shuddered. “Can you think of any reason she would have had to be in the garage in the middle of the night?”
“Anyt
hing’s possible. Andy’s car was there. They’d been fighting all day. Maybe she was thinking of taking off. Maybe she was meeting someone.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I just don’t know.”
“I spoke with Moira’s ex-boyfriend Steve, and Rita, the waitress who worked with her at the Alibi.”
“You did? Why?”
“Geneva asked me to help her find out what was going on in Moira’s life. I thought maybe people would speak more openly to me than to someone in her family.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“Not really. Rita thought Moira was involved with someone besides Andy. She saw someone pick her up one night. And her ex-boyfriend Steve seemed to think she was cheating on him when they were together.”
Rob was thoughtful for a moment. “There’s another thing that really stumps me. How did Dan get to the house so fast after Moira was shot. I was pretty much in a state of shock, but still, looking back, it seems like he just appeared right away … ” Rob trailed off.
“Andy called him.”
“Even so, the guy lives over by Lake Merced. With no traffic, it would still take him twenty or thirty minutes to get to our house. I wasn’t paying attention at the time, but he arrived pretty quick.”
I remembered Dan’s explanation—that he’d been close by, at a bar—but I didn’t want to volunteer anything that might add fuel to the fire between Rob and Dan.
Rob continued. “For all we know, maybe Andy and Moira fought and the gun went off. Maybe it was an accident and he panicked.”
I thought about that one. “Possibly. But Andy seemed relatively calm, especially at first, considering what went down. I think he wanted to believe Moira would pull through, or maybe it was shock or denial. I don’t know.”
“Yeah. And if he did do it, how did he get rid of the gun? I’ve thought about nothing else the past few days.” Rob reached over and put his hand over mine, a curiously intimate gesture that sent a shock up my arm. “It’s haunted me, Julia.” I could see tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get so emotional. It just catches me off guard sometimes.”
His cellphone rang. “Excuse me for a sec.” He looked quizzically at the caller ID. “Rob Ramer.” He listened for a moment, then stared at me and the color seemed to drain from his face. “I’ll be right there.”
“Is something wrong?” I asked as he slid his cellphone into a pocket.
He looked at me a long moment before he spoke. “My wife’s just been arrested.”
twenty-seven
“Julia, I’m sorry, I have to go. Will you be all right on your own?”
“Of course. Don’t worry.”
Rob reached into his wallet and placed a couple of large bills on the table. His hands were shaking. “This should cover it. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. Please don’t worry. You need to go.”
He stood and stumbled slightly. I saw him signaling to the valet as he neared the front door.
I was just as stunned as Rob. My half-eaten lunch sat in front of me but my appetite was gone. What a waste. I was tempted to ask for a doggie bag, but the idea of dragging leftover duckling around town wasn’t very appealing. I signaled to the waiter to bring the bill. He deftly swooped down and left a small leather case on the table. After I added the tip, there wasn’t much change from Rob’s cash.
I pulled my cell phone out and dialed Mary’s house. No answer. The machine picked up. I had no idea who had contacted Rob, but I hesitated to leave any message on the off chance the family wasn’t yet aware of Brooke’s arrest. I left the restaurant, crossed Market, and trudged up the hill on California to the parking garage. By the time I got there, the muscles around my shoulder blades were in spasm. Undoubtedly from my adventure of the night before. I wondered if Kuan was free this afternoon. I could certainly use his services. I paid the parking fee and picked up Grant Avenue heading into North Beach, grateful I could still drive.
There was no sign on Kuan’s door when I arrived. I breathed a sigh of relief. I rang the bell and he opened the door immediately. The strain must have shown on my face. Kuan didn’t say a word but pointed to the treatment room, where I changed into a cotton robe. He felt my pulses and touched my shoulder blade and ribs in various spots.
“How did you do this?”
“It’s better if I don’t tell you.”
Kuan shook his head. “You’re too reckless, Julia. Your grandmother worries about you all the time, even if she doesn’t say much.”
“I know she does, but really, I’m fine. Is she upstairs right now?”
“No. She’s out. Your secret is safe.”
I lay on my stomach on the treatment table, my face peeking through the padded donut hole while Kuan inserted acupuncture needles into my neck, my shoulder, and next to my spine. He was so adept, I didn’t feel them at all. The fragrant odor of the mugwort stick filled the room as he heated the needles with the burning herb. I felt the change. Now I could breathe deeply without a twinge. It was heavenly.
When he finished, he said, “Get dressed and come in the kitchen. I have some special tea for you. It will help.”
As I sat up, I could still feel the heat in my tender muscles, but everything felt relaxed and back in place. I dressed and headed for Kuan’s immaculate kitchen, where fresh herbs hung from a rack above the counter. He placed two handmade pottery cups on the table and poured from a small teapot.
“This has something to do with the murder after the wedding, doesn’t it?” he asked.
“Let’s put it this way. I was snooping and had a choice of getting caught or escaping. I managed to escape.”
“Hmm.” He sipped carefully from the hot mug. “Did you learn anything?”
“I’m not sure.” I relented and filled Kuan in on the facts as I knew them so far. I knew that nothing I told him would go any further.
“The most intriguing fact is where this murder took place,” he said after I’d finished.
“How do you mean?”
“Why the garage? Was this woman who was killed familiar with that space for any reason?”
“She spent a lot of time at her sister’s house. But no one knows why she was in the garage, of all places.”
“Yet the only person whose regular habit it was to go down to the garage was the woman of the house, correct?”
“Yes, to let the dog out to her run.”
“Very interesting.”
“What does that mean?”
“I have no idea.” Kuan smiled suddenly. “It was just a thought. A juxtaposition.”
“Thank you for the treatment. I’d like to pay you.”
“I refuse payment. Go home. Get some rest.”
I gave him a kiss on the cheek and a hug and headed out to my car.
twenty-eight
I tried Geneva two more times as I drove toward the Avenues. When I reached the top of the hill on Geary, I remembered the shopping bag in my trunk. As much as I disliked dealing with Celia, there was no time like the present. I decided not to call this time. Why give her a chance to make the errand more difficult?
I cut across Golden Gate Park and picked up Sunset. Celia’s house was set back from the wide boulevard on a street that never seemed to be busy with traffic. I pulled up in front and climbed the stairs. Celia hadn’t worked in many years. After Michael’s father died, she was fortunate in that she could still afford to live in her home. The front lawn was perfect, a postage stamp of lush, brilliant green bordered with hydrangeas. No leaf would dare be out of place in Celia’s garden. I lugged the shopping bag up the stairs, forcing myself not to think about the remnants of Michael’s life that I’d packed away. After all, the very least she could do would be to open the door and say thank you.
When I reached the top of the stairway, I rang the bell and waited. I waited a few
minutes more and then rang the doorbell again. She was home, I was sure of it. She simply refused to have anything to do with me. That old familiar ache rose in my chest. The orphan with her nose pressed against the window looking in on a life she couldn’t hope to have. Angry at my automatic reaction, I rang the bell a third time. Finally, I gave up. Okay, Celia, you win. I placed the bag at the front door and returned down the steps.
As I was opening my car door, someone called my name. I turned back. It was Maggie, Michael’s sister.
“Julia. Wait.” She rushed down the stairs, out of breath when she reached me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the bell. I was upstairs.” She gave me a warm hug.
“Hi Maggie.” I smiled. “It’s great to see you.” I’d always liked Michael’s younger sister. I’d never known their father, but they both must have taken after him. There certainly was no spiritual resemblance between them and their mother. “How are you?” I asked.
“I’m fine. I was just visiting at Mom’s.” Her smile faded. “Julia, I’m sorry she’s treating you this way. She’s home. She just won’t answer the door.”
“Maggie, I gave up a year ago, wondering what she held against me.”
“It’s not just you, I’m afraid. She won’t talk to anybody in the family. Doesn’t see her old friends. She rattles around that big old house day and night. She’s made a shrine of my brother’s room. I think she spends most of her time there.” Maggie shrugged. “I’m really worried about her, but I just don’t know what to do. That’s why I try to stop by whenever I can.”
“I wish I could help, but I’m likely the last person she wants to see. You don’t have to apologize for her.”
“I know that. I just don’t think you need to be treated like that. We all hurt. It doesn’t help to be cruel to you. Michael really loved you. I just hope you always remember that. Don’t let my mother’s behavior color your feelings about him and what you had together.”
All Signs Point to Murder Page 17