by Kathy Krevat
“I’m really sorry. I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just trying to figure out what happened to my friend.”
I heard shuffling near the door and tried another tactic. “Can you tell me one thing? Why did you complain about Twila’s puzzles?”
“They were wrong,” Tod said. “There was more than one answer. There has to be one right answer.”
“What did she say when you complained?”
“She apologized and fixed it,” he said. “I helped her solve puzzles.”
“Did you ever meet her?” I asked.
“No.” His voice became more agitated. “I need my food.”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said. “I’ll go.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” I put my card on the linoleum floor near his food. “Can you contact me if you think of anything that might help me figure things out?”
“Like a puzzle?”
“Yes,” I said. “Like a puzzle.”
He seemed to consider it before answering. “Maybe.”
I headed down the stairs, realizing why Norma had wanted me to stay away from him. He was a shut-in of some kind, perhaps even agoraphobic.
Maybe he was helping Norma somehow. Tod really liked puzzles. Could he be helping Norma solve the puzzle of Twila’s murder?
He said he solved puzzles for Twila. Did he solve the wrong puzzle?
Chapter 18
Soon I was on the road back to Sunnyside. For the first time I appreciated just how pretty it was. No smelly garbage. No graffiti. People kept up their houses and yards, even when their plants were drooping in the summer heat.
Was I ready to become a small-town girl? I wasn’t sure. Was Elliott? At some point, we’d have to decide.
But in the meantime, I had one more errand to do.
I’d set my GPS to Bert’s office. It was on the outskirts of Sunnyside, set in a one-story building filled with small offices, including a business offering meeting rooms for rent. I tried the glass door to Suite 103, with Merritt Financial painted on it, but it was locked.
I knocked and nothing happened. I put my hand up to shield my eyes and looked through the tinted glass. All I saw were a few empty desks with computers sitting on them. Someone had placed neat stacks of paper beside them, but it didn’t look real. It looked more like a movie set of an office than an office where real people worked.
It was close to eleven, certainly too early for lunch, even for a Friday. What was going on?
The security panel was right there. I tried a few buttons. It didn’t sound anything like musical notes at all, just faint clicks.
Had Bert really been at the activity center that night?
I was about to take off when I saw someone drive in. I waited for a woman about my age to get out and walk toward Suite 104, which looked like a tech company. “Do you know when Merritt Financial opens?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I haven’t worked here long, but I’ve never seen them actually open.”
What was going on?
* * * *
I didn’t have time to figure it out. Fridays were half days at Elliott’s camp, so I picked him up and we went out to lunch to give my dad some time with his friends. I noticed that he had a hole in his sneakers and two hours later, we’d picked up new shoes and a few theater T-shirts.
Elliott was in an unusually subdued mood. I’d decided not to ask about him contacting his father; as each day went on without a response, it would only hurt to have me remind him. But I couldn’t help but wonder how he felt about it.
“Everything okay?’ I asked yet again and he nodded.
“I hope Grandpa feels good enough to see the performance next week,” he said.
“Me too,” I said, not wanting to give him any guarantees. “He’s much better today.”
We drove into the driveway in time to see Annie come out from the house. “Colbie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, giving Elliott a brief hug. “I was having too good a time with your dad and his friends and I totally forgot about my big box delivery from Joss. Can you guys pick it up for me? I’d really appreciate it.”
I remembered that Joss sold organic produce in a subscription service. “You mean the organic veggies?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “His newsletter says he’s including strawberries and I don’t want them to go to waste.”
“Sure,” Elliott said, the prospect of seeing the chicks brightening his face. “I’ll get it.”
“I’ll come too,” I said.
“Mom,” he said. “The guy who was bothering me is dead. I can go alone.”
I answered mildly, “I haven’t seen the chicks in a while.”
Annie must have let Joss know we were coming because he was waiting on the porch. “I could’ve brought it down.”
“It’s no bother,” I said. “Elliott wanted to see the chicks.”
He didn’t respond to my smile. “Go ahead, Elliott,” he said. “I need to talk to your mother.”
We both waited for him to walk through the pen into the chicken coop. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, not looking at me. “I can’t have you, either of you, coming over here.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “You want to tell me why?”
He pushed his hand through his hair, his frustration making me feel marginally better. “My ex-wife called threatening to tell the judge that my home is not safe for Kai since you and Elliott…”
“You mean, because known criminals like me and my twelve-year-old son stop by once in a while to see your chicks?” I couldn’t keep the anger out of my voice. “Is she watching you or something?”
He shook his head. “I mentioned something to Kai about you guys. I shouldn’t have. My ex takes every advantage that she can.” He didn’t seem to like it any better than I did.
“Well, great,” I said. “That’ll really make Elliott’s day. After all the crap he’s had to go through.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. But Kai comes first.”
“Wonderful,” I said, getting louder. “Perhaps you could’ve thought of that before you messed with my son’s head. Did he tell you he contacted his biological father? And now he’s going to have to face the fact that not everyone wants to be a parent like you. And what about me?” I was really losing control. “I’ve been both of his parents his whole life and now I have to worry that his dad, who has never contacted me in thirteen years, may want to swoop in here and take him away from me. So, thanks. Thanks a lot for all of that.”
Joss’s face looked stunned. Then his eyes moved to something behind me.
I whirled around. Elliott was standing there. Heartbreak was all over his face. “You don’t have to worry, Mom,” he said. “He messaged me back.”
I took a step toward him, my heart breaking along with him.
“My ‘dad’ doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Tears started spilling from his eyes.
I clumsily opened the gate. “It’s okay,” I murmured.
He stared at me like I was crazy. “But that’s just fine with you, right? You get to keep me all to yourself.”
I gasped.
He started crying in earnest, and pushed right by me, angry, embarrassed, and grief-stricken.
I stared after him, stunned. “I don’t think I could have messed that up any worse,” I said to Joss.
* * * *
I barely pulled myself together to greet my dad’s friends before heading up to my room. I dug around in the closet until I found one of the few boxes I hadn’t put in storage when we moved in. It was labeled “Hoodies.” I’d never been the kind of mom who made scrap books, but I had kept every hoodie of Elliott’s that represented a stage of his life. There was one from his last play, Joseph and Amazing Technicolor Dreamc
oat, the jacket from fifth grade when he’d decided to try the local swim team, and the one from Lion King, the first Broadway San Diego show I’d taken him to when he was six. I’d watched him notice how young the star was, and right at that moment, he’d fallen in love with the idea that kids could do theater.
I could create a book with this box. Elliott’s Life in Hoodies. All the way back to the first one when he was a newborn. Impossibly small, it had “Tough Guy” printed on it.
I looked up to see Elliott in the doorway. He gave me a sad smile. “You still have all those?” He walked in and picked up one that said “Future President” over an American flag. “You can probably toss that one,” he said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “From what I hear, politics is a heck of a lot like theater.”
He sat down on the bed and at the same time, we both said, “I’m sorry.”
I moved some jackets out of the way to sit beside him. “Let me go first.” I gathered my thoughts. “My feelings about you contacting your dad were selfish, and that wasn’t fair to you.”
He shrugged one thin shoulder. “Mine were selfish too.”
“You want to talk about it?” I asked. “Your father, I mean.”
He got a faraway look in his eye. “I guess I wanted the Hollywood ending, you know? But he’s just a big—.” He cut himself off, probably not wanting to use that kind of language in front of me.
“What did his message say?” I asked, tentative.
“Just that he has no interest in having a relationship with me.” His voice was more resigned than sad.
“That’s it?” How could someone be that callous? I thought of the kid who held my hand in the university library and wanted to surf all the time. He must have changed.
I threw my arm around his shoulder. “You know it’s his loss, right?”
“Oh yeah.” He smiled. “Cause I’m awesome.”
* * * *
Lani and Piper came over to celebrate my dad’s return to health, bringing Chinese food and cheap champagne. I refused to talk about anything having to do with Twila, or murder, or anything not entirely positive. Elliott entertained us with bits of his musical, and backstage stories; some were from other musicals that he’d never told me before.
The cheap champagne made itself felt the next morning, and it took me longer than usual to get out of bed and get ready for the Little Italy Farmers’ Market. Even Trouble seemed a little cranky and refused to wear her hat. Normally Saturdays were busy, but San Diego’s “June Gloom” had started and the sky varied between a heavy marine layer and drizzle. Only my most devoted customers showed up. When some heavier rain started that was not in the forecast, I joined the other businesses who were packing up to go.
Sue stopped by to cuddle Trouble, and we both limited our conversation to small talk. I’d had just about enough drama lately. With my dad on the path to being healthy again, life should be going back to normal.
As I was loading the final box in the car, I got a text from Elliott. Grandpa is going to the pub.
I texted back Are you going too? I knew my dad was feeling better, but overdoing it at the pub is what put his health over the edge just a few days ago.
Elliott texted back Just got Rot and Ruin eBook from library. Can I stay home and read it?
I texted Annie to see if she could go with my dad—she replied that my dad had already invited her and she was delighted to—before letting Elliott off the hook.
Trouble meowed from her carrier. He deserves a break.
Sunnyside lived up to its name—I hit clear skies as soon as I crested the hill in Mission Trails Park but the day was still cool. I decided to stop at the grocery store and pick up everything to make my dad’s favorite meal—broiled lamp chops with mashed potatoes and corn on the cob.
Trouble meowed, agreeing. If one of those chops is for me, I’ll wait quietly in the car.
Then Quincy called when I pulled into a parking spot. I answered, letting the car run so the Bluetooth wouldn’t be cut off. “Hi, Quincy.”
He didn’t bother with a greeting. “Where did that prospectus come from?” he asked.
“A friend has her money in that fund,” I said. “Why?”
“Well, tell her to get it out immediately,” he said. “It’s bogus.”
“Wait. What?” I asked even though some part of me thought, “I knew it.”
Trouble meowed at me from her carrier. I knew it too.
“I ran the numbers, and even had a colleague take an independent look at them,” he said. “There’s no way they match what’s happened in the market. It can’t possibly be getting the kind of return the documents are claiming.”
“So what is he doing?” I asked, feeling breathless.
“It’s most likely some kind of pyramid scheme,” he said. “If you like, I can report it to the Sheriff’s Financial Crimes Division.”
Holy cow. “Um, yeah. I guess you better,” I said.
An older woman walked by carrying empty grocery bags and gave me a funny look. Shoot. Could she hear what we were saying?
“I will,” he said. “But call your friend before all the assets are frozen. And don’t tell anyone I said that.”
I was about to call Fawn, but then I had a terrible thought. Sharon also pushed this fund to all of us. Was Sharon the SPM member Twila was concerned about? Had Twila done what I did and asked someone else to look into it? My mind skittered away from what that might mean.
Todrick Walker. He said he solved puzzles for Twila. Had he solved this one? I searched my phone for all the times I’d tried to call him, and dialed it. He didn’t answer so I left a message. “Hi, Tod. This is Twila’s friend Colbie. Did you solve a financial puzzle for Twila? Can you call me back immediately? It’s important.”
I sat there, thinking through all the possibilities, willing Tod to call me back.
Nothing.
I texted him the same question, hoping that responding by text would be easier for him.
“…” appeared on my screen and I held my breath.
He texted. Yes.
Did you call her that night? I typed. I just couldn’t type the night she was killed.
He texted back. Yes, with a sad-faced emoji. And then he typed a bunch of sad-faced emojis.
I’m so sorry, I texted. Can I stop by tomorrow? Maybe he could give me more info in person.
He texted. Yes.
I rested my head on the steering wheel for a moment. Had Twila confronted Sharon about the bogus fund? And had Sharon killed her for it? I pulled out of the parking spot.
Trouble meowed. But what about my lamb chop?
“It’ll just have to wait.” I used the stop light to dial Norma’s number to tell her what I’d learned.
* * * *
As soon as I got home, I let Trouble out of her carrier and yelled upstairs. “Elliott! Come on down.”
No answer.
I ran up the stairs. He wasn’t there. Oh no, did he go visit the chicks? That was not going to make Joss happy. And going alone? I dialed Elliott and heard the phone ring from under his pillow. He didn’t take his phone with him? He knew that was our number one rule.
I ran down the stairs and yanked open the front door before rushing down the street. My nervousness grew with each step. If he wasn’t with the chicks, where could he be?
I let myself into the pen and opened the door to the coop, and heard him cooing to the chicks. I suddenly felt I could breathe.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
The chirping chicks grew silent.
“Shush,” he said. “You scared them. And me.” He looked at my face. “What’s wrong?”
“You came here when you weren’t supposed to and you left your phone at home,” I said, not knowing where to start about Sharon. “You’re still not supposed to go an
ywhere alone.” I hadn’t told him that Joss didn’t want us here.
“Sorry.” He didn’t mean it. “I brought Charlie home. And geez, I’m like, a block from the house.” He lifted a chick to his face and it started pecking at the hair falling in his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be home yet.”
“I left the farmers’ market early,” I said. “Come on. I need to make some calls.”
“Okay,” he said in a long suffering tone and placed the chick gently on the table.
I opened the door to the incubator room and saw that the outside door was closed.
“That’s weird,” Elliott said, going over to it immediately. “Joss only closes that at night. To keep out the coyotes and foxes.” He pushed on it and it didn’t move. “Shoot.”
“Joss?” he called out.
I joined him. “Joss!”
Then I heard a voice.
“Joss isn’t here.”
I recognized that voice. It was Sharon.
Chapter 19
“Sharon?” I called out. “What’s going on?” I could hear her footsteps walking away.
I pulled out my phone, dialed 911, and handed it to a scared looking Elliott. Then I pushed him toward the incubator room.
“Hello?” he said quietly into the phone and closed the door.
I called out Sharon’s name a few times, hoping to block her ability to hear Elliott, and then I heard her come back. The smell of gasoline crept through the rough door. “Come on, Sharon, this joke isn’t funny. Elliott’s in here with me and he’s scared.”
“Then you should’ve kept your mouth shut,” she said, “and he’d be safe and sound.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“I heard you at the grocery store,” she said. “Right through the car.”
“What do you mean?” I acted dumb.
She didn’t fall for it. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone. You had to keep digging. You have only yourself to blame.”
“For what?” I asked, my heart beating fast. “I found out your husband’s fund isn’t handled well. That’s not the end of the world.”
“You think I’m stupid?” she asked. “I was smart enough to shut up Twila and point the cops in your direction.”