“Is there no way to send them back?”
“It’s beyond my abilities. Besides, they don’t want to go. I’ve spoken to a dozen trolls in my lifetime, and they all fear returning to their home, although none of them remember why.”
“Okay. It’s not rude to call a troll ‘it’?”
“They prefer it. They take as much offense at being told they have genitalia as they do at being told they have eyes.”
“And he’s... it’s lonely?”
“Every troll is lonely. They seem happiest that way. I don’t think they like their own kind much. They live beneath bridges and they don’t want to have any other kind of connections.”
“It’s still early,” Albert said. He looked down at his phone. “Earlyish. Where to next?”
“Home. We still haven’t spoken with everyone yet, and we won’t be able to until the morning. We still have a lot to learn about the work Aloysius was doing and his sudden change of personality.”
They got into the car and began to drive home. After several blocks, Marley said, “Albert, dear, who do you think is following us in that car?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Bitter Accusations Politely Made
Albert glanced into the rear view mirror but couldn’t see anything except headlights. “No clue. What would you like me to do?”
“I’m sending the address of the nearest Dick’s to the GPS. If it’s still open when we get there, pull into their drive-through.”
The hamburger place was still open and the drive through only had two other cars in it. After Albert got into line, he watched the trailing car—a Civic—get in line behind them. The headlights still prevented him from seeing much detail, but he could tell it was a compact car, painted blue.
“Let me out, dear,” Marley said. With the motor running, he climbed from the car and opened her door. She climbed out.
“What do you want me to do, Aunt Marley?”
“Order something off the menu. The fries are quite good.” She walked toward the restaurant entrance. Albert closed the back door, glanced at the blue compact—the driver was searching for something in the glove compartment, conveniently shielding his face from view—and got behind the wheel again. He watched his aunt rap gently on the glass door until one of the customers stood out of his chair and opened it for her.
After that, Albert lost sight of her. He felt a bit nervous until he remembered that, in all the dangers they’d faced so far, he’d been largely useless. Aunt Marley had handled them almost without effort; the only worthwhile contribution he’d made was by carrying things, pulling on doorknobs, and driving the car.
Albert couldn’t bring himself to feel embarrassed about it. His aunt had introduced him to a new world, and he was still learning the rules.
He asked for a large order of fries that he didn’t want, paid, then pulled up to the window to pick them up. Marley was standing there, behind the counter, looking into a monitor. She frowned and spoke to the woman in a paper cap. As the woman handed Albert his order, she said: “Your aunt wants you to park out front.”
He did, shutting off the engine and rushing to the building to open the door for Marley. Together, they walked over to the Lexus. “I don’t recognize him,” Marley said. “I wonder whether he’s someone you know?”
Albert and Marley both watched the man in the Civic drive around the corner of the building, creeping along at barely a mile an hour. He saw them looking directly at him and, after a moment’s indecision, sighed and shrugged. He turned the wheel hard, pulling into a spot three spaces over from their Lexus.
“Don’t freak out,” he said as he climbed from his Civic. He held up both hands to show he was only carrying a take out bag. “There’s no reason to get all freaked out.”
He was a short man, maybe five-foot-four, with a sizable belly and a neatly-trimmed beard. His clothes were tidy but so nondescript they were barely noticeable. He opened his long coat and reached inside.
Albert immediately crouched and stepped forward, adrenaline surging. “It’s all right, Albert,” Marley said, stopping him. “Isn’t it, dear?”
The driver stared at them, his mouth hanging open, wondering if things were about to get violent. “Just getting a business card.”
“I don’t need one,” Marley said. “You’re a private investigator, aren’t you?”
He sighed. “I knew I shouldn’t have gotten into line behind you, but the fries here are so good—even if they do rip you off by charging for ketchup. Oh, well. Give me a moment to contact my client.”
“Just what I was going to suggest, dear.”
The investigator set the bag on top of his car and made a call. Judging from the part of the conversation they could hear, his client wasn’t happy. The man said “I do not know that,” at least a dozen times before finally asking if Albert was in the police or military.
“Military,” he answered.
The man repeated that into the phone. “I am good at my job, but I’m not invisible. Someone who has been trained can spot me, and that’s what happened.”
Albert did not have the chance to explain that wasn’t at all what happened, because the man immediately said, “Would you like to meet with my client tomorrow? I can arrange something in my office for, say, ten?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Marley said. “My days are much too busy for that. If your client wants to meet with me, she can come here, right now. I’ll give her thirty minutes.”
The private investigator relayed that message and winced at the response. Then he hung up his phone. “She’s on her way,” he said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
Marley asked what it was like to be a private investigator, and he rolled his eyes before starting a litany of his woes, from the weight he’d gained after sitting all day to clients who won’t pay their bills. Albert offered him a second bag of fries when his first was finished—which he accepted with both guilt and gratitude—and he finally introduced himself as Kevin Fletcher.
Eventually, a pearl-colored Seville pulled into the lot and a woman climbed from behind the wheel. Her expression was carefully neutral, and it clearly required great effort to keep it that way. Luckily for her, she had a lot of practice pretending to be calm and rational. As she passed Kevin, she said: “I certainly hope I will not be seeing a bill from you.”
“Oh, you’ll be getting a bill,” he snapped back. “And you’ll pay it, too.” Then he folded his arms and leaned against his car, scowling.
She turned her back on him and found herself facing Marley. Suddenly, she seemed unsure what to do next. “My name is Celeste Salkin.”
“I know who you are, dear.”
“I would prefer,” she began, sounding brittle, “that you not refer to me with that word, or any other term of endearment.”
“I like to keep my conversations friendly, but I suppose that’s too much to expect for the moment.”
“Much too much. I suppose you’re wondering why I had you followed.”
Silence.
“Well?” Marley prompted, becoming annoyed. Celeste hesitated. During the drive over, she’d planned and practiced what she wanted to say, but suddenly she didn’t have the courage for any of it. Worse, she couldn’t think up something that did not require courage. “Oh, come on,” Marley finally said. “It’s late and we’re all standing out in this chilly parking lot. This is no time for cold feet.”
“I think your nephew was selling drugs,” Celeste blurted.
“Do you, now? And what makes you believe that?”
“Never you mind. I just do. And I know he was murdered and my... I’m concerned about the... I know you’re up to something.”
“Up to something! Well, how perceptive you are, Celeste. Of course I’m up to something. Someone murdered my nephew! Should I sit at home and cry?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know what steps you would have to take.”
Marley peered at Celeste’s pinched, disapproving expressions, trying
to understand where this was all going. Albert was surprised to see his aunt looking confused, so he leaned down to Marley’s ear and said, “She thinks you were helping Aloysius.” When that was clear enough, he added, “Sell drugs.”
His voice was quiet, but not so quiet that Celeste and Kevin couldn’t hear. Celeste’s expression turned a little more self-righteous, as though being understood was the same as being proven right.
Marley took hold of Albert’s arm as if to hold herself steady, then laughed long and loud. Kevin fought the urge to laugh with her and Celeste began to look a little sick. Marley finally caught her breath. “And to think I was actually worried about this!”
“Laugh if you must,” Celeste said primly, “but your nephew was murdered and right after that your house was burned to the ground. And I know about you and your parties!”
“How could you know about my parties, dear, when you’ve never been to one? I invited you once or twice, didn’t I? After that lovely summer picnic Marjorie threw? But you never even RSVP’ed and I took the hint. Now I’m dying to know what you heard that kept you away.” Marley couldn’t hide her delight. “Was it something salacious?”
In the long drive to this meeting, the one thing Celeste had not imagined was that Marley would laugh at her. “I don’t think—“
“No, no! Enough of that!” Marley said. “What did you hear that kept you away from my parties? Tell me.”
For a few moments, Celeste was still taken aback, but when she spoke it was with the conviction of someone finally airing a long-held grievance. “I heard about your yoga event.”
“Oh, yes, that was a benefit for earthquake victims, I believe. What of it?” Marley had thought that gathering had been rather tame, but perhaps there had been an incident no one told her about… if such a thing was even possible.
“Well, what I heard was that it was partner yoga,” Celeste said with distaste. “You made people, some practically strangers to each other, get together and touch each other.”
After a lingering moment of astonishment, Marley’s delight evaporated, leaving only sadness. “Yes, Celeste. Fully-clothed human beings touched each other in a platonic way. Thank goodness you stayed away. I’m sure it would have been hideous for you.”
“I don’t need to go to parties,” Celeste said. “I have my daily schedule: my trips to the gym and my reading routine and—“
“You didn’t go to the police,” Marley interrupted, sounded even sadder. “Who do you think Aloysius was selling drugs to? Not your children. At the picnic you told me they’re all grown up and living on the east coast now, I remember. So... your husband?”
Celeste stood there, silently grinding her teeth. Marley stepped toward her, but she stepped away.
“Celeste, of course I’m not selling drugs, at my parties or anywhere else. I do want to talk to... George, was it?”
“Oh no you don’t.” Celeste’s voice was suddenly loud. “You keep away from him. Otherwise I might have to start talking to people about what I know.”
“Celeste, I’m not your enemy and I don’t mean any harm to you or your family, so before you start spreading rumors you might want to call your lawyer. Ask her what it will cost you to lose a slander case. Try to get a dollar amount. Then you can decide how you want to proceed.”
Celeste didn’t like that idea. “You can try to pretend all you like, but I’m on to you and soon everyone will be. Keep away from my husband.” She turned and marched back to her car, climbed in and drove away.
Marley turned to Kevin. “I’m sorry to have caused you any trouble. You may have a hard time getting your fee from her now.”
Kevin shrugged. “That’s what collection agencies are for.” Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he said: “So, is it true that you can hook me up with—“
“No.”
The flat finality of her tone was extraordinarily convincing. “Okay! All right! Fair enough. You folks have a nice night.” He also got into his car and drove away.
When he was out of sight, Marley took out her phone and made a call. “Frederika, when you get this in the morning—Wednesday morning—I’d like you to do me a favor. Dig up George Salkin’s phone number or email or something and contact him for me. It appears that he had a relationship with Aloysius, and I’d like to step in and help him.” She hung up. “There’s yet another person to check out. This list is supposed to be getting shorter, not longer.”
Albert opened the door and let her into the car, then got behind the wheel. “Home?”
“Home.”
They pulled into traffic. Albert glanced into the rearview mirror at his aunt. “She’s another ghost.”
Marley sighed. “She is, but she doesn’t have to be. There must be a way to draw her out. I’ll put my mind to it later.”
“Another name for the list of people to save, huh?”
Marley looked at his expression in the rear view mirror. For once, she was unsure what he was thinking.. “Very much so.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Chains Forged in Life
When they woke Wednesday morning, they found Weathers in the kitchen, brewing coffee. Marley asked him to prepare a hearty breakfast; she had a lot of people to see that day and her appetite was fierce.
She first placed a call to Elaine, discovered that the environmentalists she hosted would be arriving soon, and made arrangements to meet with them. Before the call was even finished, another came in from a number she didn’t recognize. It was George Salkin, and he wanted to meet with Marley immediately, wherever she was.
Unwilling to let him know where she was living now, Marley proposed alternate plans to meet him at a coffee shop beside the Fisherman’s Terminal.
An hour later, Albert opened the door of the cafe for his aunt, and a trim, sixty-ish man in a pale green polo shirt and cream-colored dockers hurried toward them. “Marley Jacobs! George Salkin. Of course I recognize you—we have an awful lot of friends in common—but isn’t it strange that we don’t know each other?” He was grinning a thousand-watt smile, but it couldn’t disguise the calculating look in his eyes. Albert disliked him immediately.
Marley was well-practiced at hiding her own dislike. “I suppose this is our chance to remedy that, don’t you think? I’m just sorry it has to be under such terrible circumstances.”
“Ah. Yes. Please accept my condolences.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s a private room back here that I reserved for us. Can I get you a coffee?”
“No need.” She went to the counter, ordered a single tall latte with a sprinkle of nutmeg, then paid. Albert ordered a regular coffee, and waited for the order to be ready while George led Marley to the little conference room at the back of the cafe.
Then he closed the door.
While Albert stood anxiously at the counter, waiting to rejoin his aunt, Marley graciously let George pull her chair back for her, then smiled when he sat beside her and made an excuse to touch her hand. He hoped they could be good friends, and he leaned forward as he spoke, holding her gaze in his. Marley noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
Albert pushed open the door and set Marley’s coffee beside her. “Thank you, dear. Shut the door, would you? The three of us have a lot to discuss.”
“Three?” George said, looking put out. “Well, okay. I mean, that will be fine. It’s just that I have to talk about something sensitive...”
“Business arrangements often are.”
“But not illegal, I swear.”
“Of course not. But Aloysius is gone and you want to continue to do business. Well, I called you because I want to help. So I’m going to ask you some questions, and if you want even a chance to continue your business arrangement, you’ll answer honestly.”
“Well, all right. I guess your first question is going to be what I paid him.”
“Not at all. I want to know what he was selling you.”
George put his hands on the arm of his chair, intending to sta
nd and walk out of the room. If the boy’s aunt didn’t even know the product, how could she take over deliveries? Still, he hesitated. He wanted it. He really, really wanted it. “Okay. It was a special drink. A smoothie, really. It made me feel confident and... and persuasive.”
Marley seemed to understand immediately. “Ah. It was white and chalky, I’m assuming? But slightly sweet?”
“Yes!” George’s smile became bright and hopeful. She knew what the boy was selling after all. In fact, it almost sounded as though there might be other products on offer. He would have to remember to ask about them later. “Yes, I have a big negotiation coming up, and I was relying on this week’s delivery—“
“When did he make deliveries to you?”
“Er, today was the day. Every Wednesday morning at ten-thirty sharp. He was very punctual.”
Marley nodded. “I understand completely. You realize there won’t be a delivery today. I know what he was giving you but he didn’t get it from me. That’s why I don’t have any prepared.”
George licked his lips. His charming manner was starting to crack. “Sure. I understand. I guess.”
“Do you know who was preparing these smoothies for Aloysius?”
“No clue. I assumed it was something the boy put together. He was a clever kid, your nephew.”
“He never mentioned any names?” George shook his head. “Not Zoe?”
“He didn’t. Sorry. When I said I assumed he was making the smoothies, I mean that’s the impression he gave. He wanted me to think it was something he made.” George licked his lips and rubbed his mouth. This wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped. “Are you sure you don’t have any smoothie for me? It’s just that the real estate market has been difficult this past year. Business-wise. I’ve hard a hard time making the deals I used to.”
A Key, An Egg, An Unfortunate Remark Page 16