by Bulock, Lynn
“Does he see his father very often?”
“They talk on the phone a lot. And for several weeks every summer he’s there, as well as alternating holidays. This year he’ll spend a good chunk of Christmas break with his father and grandparents and their various spouses.” I didn’t tell Dot that in all honesty I wished Ben spent more time with his father, but less with his father’s scrapping, blended family. It wasn’t the blended nature that bothered me, but the constant arguing. There never seemed to be a time when everyone was speaking to each other, and it made for some mighty contentious visits for Ben.
“So how do you feel about that? Is it hard to share him with them?” Even without me telling her the whole story, Dot seemed to know how I felt.
“It was a lot harder when he was younger. I wasn’t happy about Ben flying alone, even as an unaccompanied minor on reliable airlines, until he was eleven or twelve. So there were quite a few uncomfortable meetings at midpoints between St. Louis and Memphis where Hal and I would be stiff and just barely civil to each other at some restaurant right off the highway as we traded Ben back and forth.”
Dot shrugged. “At least you tried to be civil. I’ve seen too many cases where that didn’t happen.”
“Whatever other faults I found in Hal over the years, I have to say he put Ben first most of the time. After the divorce was final, that is.” I shook my head to clear it. “But this is a pretty grim topic of conversation. Why don’t we talk about something else?”
“That’s a good idea. What are you going to bring to the Christian Friends holiday potluck next Sunday? I’m trying to decide between green bean casserole and broccoli salad.”
I made a face. “I have to check with Linnette to see what I signed up for. I have no idea what kind of dish I’m supposed to bring.” So the conversation drifted on to more pleasant things and eventually I drifted back to the apartment with a couple of cinnamon rolls that Dot sent with me for Ben.
Of course when I got back there I could hear Ben showering. It was after 10:30 in the morning, but before noon; a reasonable time to expect a college freshman to roll out of bed. After a short while—at least short for him as far as showers go—he came into the living room. Damp hair curled around his temples making him look boyish, but the Pac-Oaks hoodie and that awful goatee were both pure college man.
If the kid asks me what I want for Christmas, I’m tempted to tell him that a clean-shaven son would be wonderful. I can’t imagine that happening until after the New Year begins, though. The only one who will be more aggravated by his facial hair than I am is Hal’s mother, and unlike me, she will let Ben know frequently what she thinks of it all. I imagine he’ll keep the goatee through the holidays just to vaguely aggravate his grandparents and give them a topic of conversation.
While Ben was still polishing off one of the cinnamon rolls and a cup of coffee as he studied, I heard a car door close outside. When I looked out there was a familiar unmarked sheriff’s department vehicle in the driveway with Ray Fernandez standing outside. Of course, what would a Saturday morning be without a visit from the detective?
He went toward the front of the Morgans’ house. I figured it was probably only a matter of time before he came back around this way. Sure enough, about twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door. I’d already warned my son that Fernandez was in the area, so Ben wasn’t surprised when I opened the door and welcomed him in.
“I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee on. Would you like a cup?” I asked as soon as the pleasantries were over. “Ben, why don’t you clear off half of the couch so that Detective Fernandez can sit down?”
“I’ll take you up on the coffee, but don’t pour me a full mug. I don’t have time to visit today after I’m done asking the two of you a couple questions.”
I noticed that Fernandez wasn’t back to his “call me Ray” routine. Maybe we were back to formalities since he considered Ben a suspect in this murder. That was fine with me—I didn’t really want to be on a first-name basis with anybody who thought my son was capable of something like that. I would, however, continue to offer him coffee. That’s sort of like the “cup of cold water” we’re supposed to offer folks, I figure.
I went in the kitchen and poured him the requested partial mug of coffee and brought it back into the living room. Fernandez was showing Ben a group of photographs. Ben shuffled through them, brow slightly wrinkled in thought.
“Yeah, definitely, that guy was here all the time. He was Frank’s helper. He was usually here every day but Friday,” Ben said, stopping at a picture of Darnell.
“Unless the surf was running just right somewhere between Santa Barbara and Malibu,” I chimed in, putting down the coffee in front of Fernandez on the coffee table.
“That’s already been pointed out to me,” he said. “How about the guys in the other pictures?”
Ben flipped through the stack again. “These two I can’t say for sure. Maybe Mom will have better luck telling you. But this guy, definitely. He wasn’t here nearly as much as Darnell or anything. I think he worked with the plumbing crew.”
Fernandez took the photos Ben handed him, holding them in such a way that I couldn’t see which ones Ben indicated were parts of the crew or not. He shuffled them a little and passed them to me. I sat down in the armchair next to his end of the couch. “What is this all about?” I thought I knew, but it was better to have things clarified.
“I wanted to show you and Ben some pictures to see if you recognized some of the young men that we’ve identified as part of the construction crews. All of the people I’m showing you worked for one contractor or another, but not all of them necessarily worked on this job. Mrs. Morgan was very helpful, but as the actual tenant of the apartment, you might be able to add details.”
He took a sip of his coffee and looked at me while I began to study the pictures. Those golden brown eyes could certainly focus with an intensity that made me antsy. I tried to get my attention on the photos instead of the man watching me. I looked through them, reordering the group. The first two were easy. “Ben’s right, Darnell was here all the time. And if this second guy was here at all, I don’t remember him.” I handed back those two photos.
The other two were more problematic. “I have to admit that I’m not sure how often I saw this young man on the job here, but I know who he is. I met him at the funeral home during Frank’s visitation, and I’m pretty sure that I’d seen Bob Leopold around here on at least one occasion with his dad’s plumbing crew.”
Fernandez looked at me over the rim of his coffee cup. “Okay. Fair enough,” he said, putting it down. “What about the fourth one?”
I studied the remaining photo. The young man was incredibly ordinary looking, with brown hair and a thin sort of face. His eyes looking out at the camera seemed to be focusing on a point in the distance and he wasn’t smiling. He could have been any one of a dozen kids that came through the Coffee Corner on a daily basis or were part of one of the construction crews. “Honestly, he looks familiar but I can’t tell you exactly why. I couldn’t tell you that he was definitely working on the apartment, Detective, because I’m not sure where I’ve seen him before.”
“But you have seen him?” That golden intensity was back in his gaze.
“I think I have. Like I said, though, I couldn’t tell you where. Between the Coffee Corner, Ben’s dorm and the ongoing parade of workers who’ve come through here on the remodeling job, I see a lot of young men in their late teens and early twenties.”
“That’s okay, Ms. Harris. All I wanted was for you to give it your best shot. Your answers don’t have to please me. They just have to be the truth.” He stood to leave and I stood with him.
“Does this mean you’re focusing on people other than Ben in your investigation now?” Ben gave me a look behind Fernandez’s back that seemed to tell me to sit down and shut up. I cheerfully ignored him.
“We are, to tell you the truth. Of course we still can’t rule anyone out at this stag
e of the game. However there are several individuals I need to talk to whose prints have shown up where Ben’s didn’t. Or yours, either, for that matter.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Had he really considered me a suspect at any time? I couldn’t imagine it, but with Fernandez it was hard to tell. “I mean, I’m glad my prints didn’t show up anyplace strange, not that you’re considering the young men on the construction crew. I imagine most of them have mothers who will be just as upset as I am to know their sons are suspects in a murder.”
“Probably so. Somewhere out there is one mother who won’t be at all surprised when we come knocking on her door. Few murders happen out of the blue.”
Fernandez’s words made me shiver. What would it be like to think someone as close to you as your son was capable of murder? It was difficult for me to imagine.
“How much chance do you have of solving this one? I’ve always heard that homicides that aren’t solved in the first few days are less likely to be solved at all.”
Fernandez pointed a finger at me. “You’ve been watching those cop shows on TV again, haven’t you? That’s not necessarily so. Some crimes, like gang shootings, usually need a witness who’s willing to talk or something else that has to come up quickly. But a lot of the rest are solved by good old-fashioned police work and sometimes that takes time.”
He gave me another look on his way out that told me that when it came to solving this murder, Ray Fernandez would take all the time he needed. Once more I was glad that Ben no longer seemed to be his primary suspect.
Chapter Eleven
Sunday began quietly. I got up and read my passages for women’s Bible study class, which I should have done days ago but hadn’t. I savored a couple cups of hot coffee while I read, waiting for Ben to get up. He’d told me the night before that he would go to church with me if I didn’t go to the earliest service possible.
I had showered the night before, so we didn’t have any squabbles over the hot water when he finally got up, about half an hour later than I would have to make it to church at 9:30 a.m. Still, he managed to be ready only five minutes after I was hoping to leave. When we got to the Chapel he actually found a couple of other Pacific Oaks students to hang out with while I went to my Bible class.
I sat with the usual suspects in Sunday school. Most of them belonged to Christian Friends. I was a little surprised to see Tracy Collins slip into the room just before class started. If she saw Dot motion for her to come sit by us, she ignored it. Instead she slid into an empty chair in the back of the room. I don’t think she said a word the entire hour, but she was there and I hoped she’d gotten something out of the class. If anybody could use the comfort of Scripture right now it had to be Tracy.
She was still in the room when class broke up, and Dot went over to say hello. I followed her, not sure whether I should say anything or not. I didn’t have to worry; Dot did most of the talking and I was free to stand there and keep them company.
“I guess you’ve heard the latest,” Tracy told her. “The police say Frank was definitely shot with one of his own guns. I told him more than once he shouldn’t keep that thing in the cab of the truck. But my advice wasn’t something he listened to on anything else. Why should this have been different?” There were circles under her eyes dark as bruises. I wondered if she’d slept since the funeral.
“I knew that much,” Dot admitted. “That detective working the case, Ray Fernandez, has been out to ask me questions more than once. He was at the house yesterday to show me pictures and have me see if I knew any of the men in them. Apparently most of them were on one or another of the crews that worked with Frank.”
“Yeah, that same detective told me they were trying to narrow down suspects because there were other prints on the gun besides Frank’s. But I told him what I’ve been telling everybody else, that there were so many people that Frank owed money to or had cheated one way or another in business that I could give him the names of about fifteen suspects.”
Dot’s eyebrows raised. “That many? How?”
Tracy’s shoulders sagged. “It’s like a broken record on the phone messages, with people telling me how much money they need from me by next week. And Frank’s books are so sloppy I can’t tell what he really paid anybody and what he was trying to lie his way out of paying. How we will keep the house is going to be anybody’s guess.”
Dot patted her on the shoulder. “You know, we’ve got several people here at the Chapel who are good accountants. They offer their services to members in trouble sometimes. I’d say you definitely qualify. Maybe you could call Pastor George and ask him to link you up with somebody.”
Tracy seemed to perk up for the first time. “That sounds like a good idea. I can’t afford to pay a good accountant, or even a mediocre one. Even though I’ve done lots of bookkeeping this mess is beyond me. There are so many other things to sort through and settle that I could spend all my time on other problems anyway.”
“Besides the bookkeeping, what’s the worst of your worries? I’ll check tonight with my Christian Friends group. Maybe we could help you out.” I almost nudged Dot in the ribs to tell her not to get us involved in more than we could handle. But then, considering what the Christian Friends had done for me, and for Heather, maybe they could handle just about anything.
Tracy sighed again. “Probably the worst of it otherwise is Frankie. He’s staying out until all hours and I know he’s cutting classes during the daytime. At thirteen he won’t listen to me, and when he does come home he spends all his time at his computer. I know this is hard for him to handle, but I don’t need more problems right now on top of what I’ve got.”
“I hate to sound sexist, but this sounds more like a job for a man, maybe. Do you think Frankie could handle some of the chores around the kennels at our place? I know Buck could use a hand, and he’s willing to pay for the help. It might give Frankie some incentive to shape up.” Dot smiled faintly. “I know if he works at the kennels very long it will tire him out enough that he won’t have much energy to stay out late.”
Tracy’s answering smile was even fainter than Dot’s, but it was there nonetheless. “I’ll work on him. It might not sound good to him at first, but he knows we could use the money. Even if I let him keep everything he earned it would probably come in handy because I wouldn’t have to give him money for school and things he thinks he has to have. Thanks, Dot.”
“Anything that I can do to help I will. I’ll let Buck know what I’ve gotten him into so he will be ready to talk to Frankie.” They chatted a little while longer about the best times during the week for Tracy to bring her son over, and I drifted toward the door to avoid eavesdropping on any more of their private conversation.
Dot caught up with me a few minutes later near the coffee urn in the fellowship hall. “Sorry if I seem to be giving away some of your hours around the kennel, but I figured you wouldn’t mind terribly.”
“Especially not for the next week while I’ve got finals,” I told her. “Besides, I know Tracy could use the help with Frankie, and the money, far more than I need it.”
“You’re right there. I know you need it, too, Gracie Lee, but I figure one of these days Dennis’s probate case will work its way through the courts and maybe you’ll get back what he owed you.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “To tell you the truth, Dot, it’s not something I’m counting on anytime soon. Someday, perhaps. It would certainly provide more of a cushion for me and for Ben while I finish school.”
“True. But even if we cut your hours around the kennel, you know that you’ll have cheap rent as long as you need it.”
I was so touched by Dot’s words I teared up a little. Making a go of it as a single mom has never been easy, and right now with a limited income and not much to fall back on, it’s more of a challenge than ever. I’d gotten Dennis’s insurance company to settle a portion of his small life insurance policy. He’d named his mom as beneficiary, but then she died shortly after
he did. With Lexy’s help as an attorney, I’d convinced the insurance company that I was entitled to some of the proceeds of that policy. Right now that money was about all I had to fall back on when I needed it.
Getting the thirty thousand dollars that Dennis had bilked me out of would be enough to tide me over without worries until I finished my degree and got a counseling position somewhere. But so far I’d done all right trusting that God would keep things together. I knew it would be fine as long as I didn’t make any stupid decisions. I could hardly believe that Dot and Buck cutting my hours back a little each week was against God’s plan if it helped Tracy and her family.
Before I could think about it all anymore, Ben stood next to me in the fellowship hall. “Come on, Mom. I want to get into services while the praise band is still playing. They’re really good and I want to listen a while,” he said with more enthusiasm than I expected. I wondered if that meant there were cute girls in the praise band. I guess that makes me a cynical mom, but he’s been a teenager long enough for me to understand his motives far more often than I’d like.
By the time evening rolled around and it was time for my Christian Friends meeting again I was plenty ready for the friendly adult companionship. Ben had studied all afternoon, and instead of joining him I’d gotten called in for a shift at work.
Fernandez hadn’t called or come over today; I didn’t know whether to think that was a good thing or a bad thing. He wasn’t asking Ben or me questions right now, but he hadn’t made any other big announcements that I’d heard, either.
After filling in for another server all afternoon, I went straight to Conejo Community Chapel alone. I’d gotten used to a different routine all summer when I was only taking one class and working shorter hours at the coffeeshop. Then Dot and I had driven to meetings together most of the time. Now it seemed like I drove around in the dark alone a lot. California might not be cold in the winter, but this area got dark just as early in the evening, or almost afternoon, as the Midwest did in December.