by Cindy Sample
He placed his arm around his wife's waist. “Let's go, Bonnie. It was nice meeting you, I suppose,” he added under his breath, as they left the room with disgusted looks on their faces.
I didn't blame them. I was disgusted with myself. I had absolutely zero skill in conducting a discreet inquiry. The senior Slaters left their plates behind on the table. They probably lost their appetite after speaking with me. I wish I had the same problem. My stomach was carrying on a conversation with itself and it didn't sound happy.
Maybe the reason my questioning was so incompetent was that my brain had been deprived of carbohydrates. I contemplated the gold-rimmed platters of desserts, torn between a piece of chocolate mousse cake and an apple crumble. Someone tapped me on my arm and I dragged my gaze from the delectable desserts to the new arrival.
"Hi, Peter. You disappeared so quickly from the service I didn't think you were coming to the reception."
"Sorry,” he said with a sheepish look. “I admit I was a little freaked out when you said you're now a suspect in two murders. I've got to admit it really takes guts to look for a killer."
Guts? Or stupidity?
I swallowed the piece of rumaki I'd been chewing. Peter could be a useful ally from a real estate standpoint. Not to mention the rest of my team had deserted me.
"When Jeremy and I were at dinner, he seemed concerned about the purchase of a vacation home in Tahoe. Did you handle his real estate transactions?” I tried to talk and eat a mini quiche at the same time. “By the way, how did you know him?"
"Jeremy is, I mean, he was my doctor.” Peter looked thoughtful as he gnawed on a carrot stick. “It was kind of surprising how many Centurion agents were his patients, but he really was an excellent physician. I'm not sure whom he worked with in our office. He never called me for any real estate advice if that's what you're asking.” He pushed his plate away. “I still can't believe his drowning wasn't an accident. You're certain the sheriff's department thinks he was murdered?"
"Absolutely. I have it right from the horse's mouth.” Although it was more like a horse's ass, as far as I was concerned.
"So, what's the next step in your investigation?” asked Peter.
"Yes, Nancy Drew, what is the next step?"
Busted.
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TWENTY-ONE
"Hi, Tom,” I muttered. “Have you met Peter Tyler? He works at Centurion with my mother."
Tom shook Peter's hand then turned to me. “Peter, would you excuse us? I need to discuss something with Laurel."
"Certainly,” Peter said. “I'll see you next week, Laurel."
"Can't wait."
Tom grabbed my elbow and I relinquished my plate of goodies as he led me into the living room, which appeared even more crowded than before.
I scowled at him, not sure if I was more annoyed that he had removed me from Peter's company, or that I'd had to leave my plate of appetizers behind. He glowered at me as a few people walked past giving us curious looks.
"Now what? Can't I have a conversation with a handsome cultured man without you dragging me away?” I said.
"Why won't you let me do my job without interfering? Don't you realize any one of these people could be the killer?” Frustration lined his face as he worried about dead bodies, dangerous murderers, and one stubborn female.
The hunk of my dreams stood in front of me. Begging me to stop meddling in his murder investigation. What indeed was my problem?
Stubbornness. Stupidity. I didn't even know the answer. All I knew was that this attractive and occasionally sensitive man was pleading with me to stop looking for a killer. Was there any other option than to acquiesce to his wishes?
Tom moved closer. My antenna quivered but not due to his presence. My gang of detectives had surrounded us en masse.
"Laurel.” Mother folded her arms across her chest. “Would you care to introduce us?"
My cheeks flushed. “This is Detective Hunter. He's in charge of the investigation into Jeremy's death. Tom, this is my mother, Barbara Bingham."
"I'm pleased to meet you.” Tom offered his hand and bestowed his high voltage smile on her.
Mother smiled back and kept his hand clasped in her own. “Detective Hunter, how nice to meet you.” She lowered her voice and I couldn't make out her next few words.
Tom shook his head. “I'm sorry but I'm not authorized to share that information. It's confidential police business."
She gave him the look that had terrified hundreds of her competitors. “Then I guess I'll have to ask Detective Bradford. I'm sure he'll accommodate me. Let's go, Laurel."
I looked sheepishly at Tom, but with my team surrounding me, there wasn't much I could do or say other than goodbye. He looked relieved that I was leaving. One less amateur detective to worry about, I guess.
Our group filed out the front door and down the steps. I was lagging behind the others when a heavyset man bolted out the front door and crashed into my shoulder. I lost my balance and grabbed hold of the first thing I could find, which happened to be the man's arm. Our eyes locked.
"Dr. Radovich!” I hadn't noticed him earlier at the reception. I wasn't sure if he would remember me from my brief visit to his office. He stared at me as if trying to recall my name. All of a sudden, recognition dawned.
"Ms. McKay,” he said, in that same brusque tone I remembered. “How is your leg feeling now?"
It felt fine before he crashed into me and almost pushed me down the stairs, but that didn't seem the most tactful response. “It's much better. You seem to be in a hurry this evening.” I jogged alongside as I attempted to keep up with his brisk pace down the sidewalk.
He raised his shaggy brows, muttered something under his breath, and proceeded to rush down the street in the opposite direction from my mother's car. The chirp of a remote entry key signaled he had reached his destination, a gas guzzling black Hummer parked at the end of the block.
"Laurel, let's go,” Liz called out, motioning to me from next to the Chrysler. I hurried down the pavement.
"Follow that car."
My quick-witted detective trio responded in unison. “Huh?"
Luckily my mother has excellent reflexes for a senior citizen. She jumped in the driver's seat, turned the key in the ignition, and had her right foot hovering over the accelerator by the time Liz, Stan and I were belted in.
We briefly lost sight of our prey, but caught up to him as he waited for the entrance gate to open.
"Don't get too close,” I said as Mother's front grille hovered a few inches from his rear bumper. My plan did not include plowing into the car of a murder suspect.
Liz peered over Mother's head. “Who are we following?"
"Dr. Radovich. He was acting in very suspicious manner."
"How do you know what's suspicious behavior for the doctor?” Stan asked.
"Um..."
We followed the SUV as it turned left on to El Dorado Hills Blvd. The doctor drove up the Highway 50 on ramp and headed east toward Placerville and the Sierras.
Mother sped up, remaining a few car lengths behind him. “What should I do? Do you have any idea where he's going? Where does he live?"
Three excellent questions. Too bad I didn't have answers for any of them.
"His practice is nearby. He must live around here somewhere."
"It better be close. I don't have time for a wild goose chase."
Like I did?
Three exits later, the Hummer moved into the right lane. We were right behind him. He turned on his signal and exited the freeway at an off ramp that dead-ended at one location.
The Goldenwing Casino.
The doctor pulled the super-sized SUV into a parking stall and jumped out, heading straight for the casino entrance. We parked in a stall a few cars down from his.
"It's somewhat unusual to go directly from the memorial service of your partner to a casino, isn't it?” Mother asked.
Liz bounced in her seat. “I forgot t
o tell you. Tara, their receptionist, mentioned two creepy guys stopped in the office the day after we did. That would have been Thursday. They didn't have an appointment but they insisted on speaking with Dr. Radovich. She said the guys could have starred in the Sopranos. After they left, Radovich cancelled all his appointments for the rest of the week. Tonight he told her he's going on vacation for a couple of weeks."
"I bet the doctor owes the casino tons of markers and they sent their goons after him,” Stan said.
I turned around and shot him my “puhleeze” look.
"It could happen. Don't you know there's Mafiosi everywhere?"
"You have got to stop watching all those crime shows,” I said.
"Hey, just cause I'm gay doesn't mean I spend my evenings watching the Home and Garden network,” Stan replied. “Although did you see Design on a Dime last night?"
"Amazing ideas for staging houses. Did you see the one the week before—Don't Break your Budget on your Bedroom?” Mother asked.
"I really liked the segment they did on Having Fun with your Futon,” Liz said.
"Guys,” I said. “Can you switch from designing mode back to detective mode?"
"What do you suggest, Miss Drew?” Stan asked.
I shrugged. I was running out of clever ideas. Not that I'd had any to begin with.
"Laurel, it's six forty-five. I told Brian I'd meet him at seven,” Liz said.
"Okay. I need to get home, too. There probably isn't anything further we can do here anyway,” I said.
"Hey, do you want me to come back and spy on the doc? See if he's a high roller?” Stan asked.
I hesitated. “Don't do anything that could be dangerous."
"Oh, c'mon. Tonight has been the most fun I've had since we went shopping together. I need a little excitement in my life."
"Okay. But be careful. I don't want him to suspect anything."
"I'll go home first and change into something more suitable. Maybe a tux—you know, the James Bond look. So I'll fit in at the casino."
I pictured my slight friend dressed in a black tux, playing roulette, surrounded by senior citizens in pastel sweat suits, the mainstay of the Indian casino.
Mother spoke up. “You know, it's hard to believe that two men so different could be partners in a medical practice."
I compared the charming, handsome Dr. Slater to his surly and somewhat scary partner. Not exactly two peas in a pod. I twisted around and looked at my two best friends. No one would put us in the same peapod either.
We pulled into the parking lot in front of the Starbucks. Liz started to climb out of the backseat then stopped. “Laurel, you know that bald man you saw with Jeremy the night he was murdered? What if the bald man left the River Inn after their conversation was over and someone else pushed Jeremy in the river?"
All eyes turned to the team leader. Master Detective McKay.
I slumped down in my seat. Liz had a point. Did the suspect list just increase by thousands of people who weren't bald?
Stan shoved Liz out of the car. “C'mon sweetie, I've got a stakeout at the casino. Don't worry, Laurel. You'll figure it out."
Liz and Stan exchanged farewells and I hugged my mother good-bye. “Thanks. You were a big help tonight.” I pulled on the door handle.
"Of course I was, dear. You children would have been lost without me.” I eased my leg out of the car as she imparted her standard maternal reminder.
"Don't forget your purse."
"I've never forgotten it. Yet. Good night.” I slammed the door shut then stomped over to my own car. Mothers!
Speaking of which, it was time this mother checked in with her offspring. I called the kids as I drove out of the parking lot. The phone rang five times before Jenna picked up.
"Hi, honey, everything okay?"
"Yeah, we're fine, but I'm on the phone with Katie. What time will you be home? Some guy has called you three times but he won't leave his name."
That was odd. It seemed like every male I knew had been at the service this evening.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes.” I heard my son hollering in the background. “Why is Ben yelling?"
"Oh, you know how Ben is, always whining. C'mon, Mom, Katie's still holding for me."
"Tell her you'll call her back. Put your brother on the phone."
Ben's shrill voice blasted out of the phone. “Mom, Mom, when are you coming home? Jenna is making me play with my Legos. I don't want to play with my Legos. She says I have to do whatever she says."
Honestly. I told Ben to put Jenna back on the line.
"What?"
"Ben said you're making him play with his Legos even though he doesn't want to play with them."
"I'm in charge so he has to do what I tell him.” I heard the implied “Duh” in her voice. It was obvious my daughter needed a few lessons in leadership training.
"Jenna, you can't dictate what toys he should be playing with."
"Why not?"
I counted to five. “As long as he isn't doing anything wrong, he can play with whatever toy he wants."
"Fine, whatever. Can I go now? I promised to call Katie back.” She sounded anxious to appease me and get on with her busy social life. I made a mental note to mentor her on her management skills.
The discussion about Legos reminded me that Garrett lived just a few blocks away. He was single and childless so I had no idea who his beneficiaries were, but it was possible his home might be listed for sale. I couldn't remember his exact address but if I could get in the entrance gate, I was certain I could find it again and see if there was a for sale sign on the lawn.
Sneaking into the subdivision proved to be a simple task. Someone must have crashed into the gate because it was propped wide open. I missed Garrett's street on my first attempt. If the roads all looked alike in the daytime, the starless sky certainly didn't enhance my ability to find his house. I finally turned on to his street and located his residence. The crime scene tape had been removed and a green “for sale” sign was posted on the front lawn. I grabbed a pen and paper and stopped to write down the agent's name and phone number. It wouldn't be difficult for Mother to arrange for us to look inside.
I made it back to the entrance without any unwanted detours. I turned right, heading east on Serrano Parkway. Once the tree lined parkway ended I turned left on Bass Lake Road. It should take me less than fifteen minutes to get home to Greenhills.
I drove down the two-lane road, my brain contemplating the tidbits of information we'd pulled together. None of which made much sense. Suddenly two beams of light radiating from a vehicle behind mine blinded me with their brilliance. The high beams of the truck or SUV flooded my car with enough megawatts to light up Arco Arena.
The vehicle moved closer and closer until it was inches from my bumper. I accelerated but it stuck to me like glue. I slammed the gas pedal all the way to the floor and my car shimmied to the left. I yanked the steering wheel in the same direction and my tires skidded on the gravel alongside the road. We were approaching a ninety-degree curve with a posted speed of forty miles per hour. My eyes flashed to the speedometer.
Crap. I was doing seventy. My hands were cemented to the steering wheel. If I didn't slow down, my car would never make the curve. I glanced in the rear view mirror to see how close my tailgater was.
I barely had time to scream when the tank riding my bumper slammed into me.
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TWENTY-TWO
I always wondered what the phrase “your life flashing before your eyes” meant. In my case it meant a whirling kaleidoscope composed of the faces of my loved ones superimposed over the oak trees whizzing past the windows of my car.
Bam. The Prius landed on a rutted dirt track. My first thought was if I survived this ordeal I would finally break down and replace the shocks. My hands were frozen to the steering wheel, stuck in the official ten and two position.
The screech of the brakes, which I had the foresight to recently
replace and which I now had the foresight to utilize, announced the end of our jarring journey. The car landed with a thud and a groan, the front bumper face to face with the massive trunk of one of those great old dowagers—the California oak tree.
Either my air bag was broken or it wasn't set to go off mid-flight. I sat there for a few minutes with my head pressed against the steering wheel. A pair of headlights approached from the opposite direction. The noise of the engine indicated the car was slowing. I prayed it wasn't the lunatic who had rammed me coming back to finish the job.
Neither a lunatic nor a Good Samaritan. The car rounded the curve and proceeded on its way.
I opened my door and eased out of the car. The midnight blue sky made it too difficult to assess the damage but if there was any, it was minimal. I breathed in the pungent night air. A few deep breaths and I started to calm down although my chest felt like a small elephant had careened over me. At least my back and neck seemed to have handled the impact okay.
This spot was way too dark and isolated to be hanging around so I climbed back in my sturdy little car, backed down the muddy path, and headed north once again. My eyes remained super glued to the rearview mirror all the way home. Once I was safely in my subdivision, I breathed a sigh of relief. I pulled into the garage, entered the house and to my amazement found Ben engrossed in his Legos.
Kids.
The next morning my chest still ached but that seemed to be the only side effect from the previous night's encounter. The rear bumper was slightly dented and there were some scratches on the front bumper from the tree I'd nudged, but the Prius had proven to be surprisingly durable.
The big question was obviously whether there was a connection between the SUV ramming my car and our detecting last night. Someone might have followed us from the casino. Or followed me home from Garrett's house.
Or it could have been a teenager out for a joy ride. I debated whether to call Tom to tell him about the incident but decided to wait until later in the day. It was too early for another one of his lectures on the perils of amateur detecting.