Knot My Sister's Keeper

by Mary Marks

  “Sorry! Sorry. I should’ve checked before I left.” I promptly replenished his bowl and set it back on the floor.

  The cat licked the water once and sauntered away in a clear reprimand.

  I called Quincy to see if she had taken my advice about saltine crackers for morning sickness.

  “Hi, Mom. I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. Did you forget to turn on your cell phone again?”

  “No. I left it at home in the charger. Is everything okay? Did the crackers work?”

  “A little, but morning sickness is the least of my worries right now. It’s Noah.”

  “What has he done? Is he backing out? If he hurts you in any way, I’ll kill him.”

  “Relax! He’s not the problem. It’s his father. Eli went ahead and booked the Hillcrest for the wedding. He doesn’t care what we want. He and Noah had a huge argument. Noah was furious and disinvited his parents altogether. Now nobody is speaking to anybody else. I thought managing my dad was going to be a problem, but Eli is much worse. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Didn’t Noah tell him that it’s the bride’s family who’s responsible for planning the wedding and paying for it?”

  “You’re living in the last century, Mom. Those rules don’t apply these days. What Noah did tell Eli was that he trusted your judgment completely.”

  “He said that?”

  Kaplan had resisted me on every murder investigation I’d been involved in. When did he go from nemesis to ally?

  “Noah really respects you, Mom. He said you’re one of the smartest people he knows.”

  Wow. I thought my recent discovery of the bank account in my name had turned my world upside down. But this declaration from Kaplan sent my head spinning into a parallel universe.

  “Look, honey, I’m sure we can work out some sort of compromise. This should be a joyous event. It’s time for me to meet Noah’s parents anyway. Why don’t we all have dinner and talk this out? You and Noah, his parents, your father, Yossi—if he’s in town—and me? And if you still want Giselle to host the wedding at her estate, I’ll ask her to be there, too.”

  “I’m sure Eli will insist we meet on his turf at Hillcrest.”

  “Then I’ll ask Giselle to host a dinner. It’ll be a good opportunity for everyone to see where the wedding will take place, and it’s sort of neutral ground.”

  “Not exactly neutral, Mom. She’s on our side of the family, and she owns an oil company. Better we do it here, at Noah’s house.”

  “Don’t you worry about your Aunt Giselle, honey. If she’s capable of bringing Saudis to the bargaining table, she can handle someone like Eli Kaplan. By the way, what does Eli do?”

  “He owns Kaplan Manufacturing. They make batteries for electric cars.”

  CHAPTER 25

  No sooner had Quincy ended the call then my phone rang again. “I hope you haven’t eaten yet, Sissy. I’m on my way over the hill to take you and Yossi to dinner. Don’t expect me anytime this century, though. Traffic is crawling.”

  “Yossi’s working late tonight.” I checked the clock. “Why did you choose to drive over the hill at this time? Five-thirty is smack-dab in the middle of rush hour, G.”

  A half hour later, Giselle stomped through the front door and tossed her purse on a chair. “You should’ve asked for more money in your divorce settlement. You could’ve bought a house in the city and saved us both from having to make that heinous drive over the Sepulveda Pass!”

  “Are you blaming me for the traffic, or my ex-husband?”

  She glared at me. “Your divorce attorney. I need some wine.”

  I opened a bottle of my favorite Ruffino Classico Chianti and poured us each drink in the red Moroccan tea glasses with the gold curlicues. “How did your meetings go today with the Saudis?”

  Giselle removed the jacket of her black power suit and slumped back on the sofa. She tossed her straight red hair out of her face and took a long drink. “It went well. We managed to break the stalemate and broker a good deal. As soon as the Saudis left, I rushed right over here because I’m dying to find out what you and Lucy discovered today. Then we’re going out to celebrate. Harold will be joining us. He wants to meet you.”

  I led her to the murder board in my sewing room, where I’d pinned up the reconstructed baby photo of Quincy and the two notes—one from Eliza Shiffer demanding more money and one from my mother asking him to stay out of my life.

  Giselle tapped her finger on the note from my mother. “According to this, he opened a savings account in your name. Apparently, he handed it over when you turned twenty-five. How come you never mentioned that?”

  “Because he disappeared two weeks before my birthday. We never had a chance to meet, so I never learned about the money.”

  “Your mother never mentioned it to you?”

  “I don’t know if she even remembered. She was never a friend of reality.”

  “Do you know what happened to it?”

  “That part was surprisingly easy to look up. Quinn had been actively depositing money for fifteen years. After his disappearance, the account became dormant. Three years later, B of A handed the account over to the state. One-point-eight million dollars has been sitting in trust for me all these years.”

  Giselle gasped. “That’s a lot of money! But I’m not surprised. The Daddy I remember was always giving me presents. One year he had a real pony delivered to our front door. A little pinto with a white mane. It wasn’t even my birthday or Christmas. He bought it for me because he said he loved my green Irish eyes.”

  “The more we learn about Quinn, the more complex he seems. On the one hand, he was a compulsive womanizer and a liar. But he had another side, which Jayda Constable pointed out. He cared about his children. At least he had a sense of responsibility toward us.”

  I took a moment to sip the room-temperature Chianti, enjoying the full-bodied fruity flavor. “And that got me thinking about his so-called gambling problem. He may have liked to take the occasional trip to Atlantic City, but I don’t believe he was a compulsive gambler.” I paused for effect. “I believe he used his so-called gambling debts as an excuse to hide what he was really doing with the money—providing for his illegitimate offspring.”

  “That does sound like something Daddy would do. What about Figgy? Did she open up to you today?”

  “Big-time. She admitted to spying on everyone.” When I saw the shocked look on my sister’s face, I added, “She was only being protective of you and your mother.”

  I told Giselle what the housekeeper overheard in Quinn’s phone conversations with my mother. A wave of sadness washed over me. “Apparently, he was looking forward to meeting me and Quincy.”

  “Oh, Sissy. I’m so sorry.”

  “Figgy also witnessed your grandmother snooping through Quinn’s office more than once. When Detective Rohrbacher returned the key ring from the abandoned Caddy, Figgy said your grandmother was finally able to open a locked drawer in Quinn’s desk. That’s where she must’ve gotten her hands on his private papers and photos.”

  “Okay, now we know how those papers got on the back of the quilt, but so what?”

  “At the very least, we now have a clearer picture of how complex a person our father was. Unfortunately”—I chose my next words carefully—“Quinn’s behavior could’ve provided anyone in your family with a motive for murder. Including your housekeeper.”

  She waved away my comment. “Just because it’s possible doesn’t mean it happened that way. You don’t seriously think any of them could’ve killed Daddy, do you?”

  “According to Figgy, after Quinn left the house on the day he disappeared, your mother locked herself in her bedroom and your grandmother hung around to look after her. But your grandfather could’ve easily arranged a hit. That would explain why Chief Nelson shut down the investigation.”

  “I’m beginning to think we’ll never find out since both of them are long dead. Face it, Sissy. We’re down to one lead. We’ll f
ind out this week if Wolf is our half brother. Jayda said Daddy liked to spend time with his son. We know Wolf remembers Daddy because he said so. I think he knows more than he told us.”

  “He was only nine when Quinn disappeared, G. How much could a young boy possibly know?”

  “Maybe he overheard Eliza’s threats. Maybe he saw something.”

  “What if he refuses to cooperate?” I raised my eyebrows.

  Giselle sighed. “Eliza’s dead, after all. Nothing bad can happen to her now. Money is a strong motivator. I might have to allow him to sell one of Daddy’s paintings in exchange for the truth.”

  We finished our wine and Giselle pulled out her cell phone. “We’re late. I’ll text Harold we’re on our way.”

  I remembered my sister telling me Harold was the CFO of Eagan Oil and her study partner from their student days in business school. When Jerome Eagan died, Giselle hired Harold to help rescue the failing oil company. Together they guided it back from the brink of bankruptcy.

  Fifteen minutes later we walked into Noro, an upscale sushi restaurant on Ventura Boulevard in Studio City. A bald man in a black suit and black-rimmed glasses stood just inside the door. As soon as he saw Giselle, his eyes lit up and he covered the distance between us in two strides.

  Giselle put her hand on his shoulder. “Martha, this is Harold Zimmerman, my right-hand guy.”

  Zimmerman? Jewish?

  “Pleasure to meet you, Martha.” His hands were smooth, but his handshake was firm. “I’ve noticed a change in Gigi since she met you.”

  “You call her Gigi?”

  He turned his head toward Giselle, revealing a strong jaw and pleasant profile. When he spoke, his face softened along with the tone of his voice. “It’s an old nickname from Philly.” He referred to their time at the Wharton School in Pennsylvania. “She only lets me call her that when we’re among friends.” He signaled the maître d’. “Our table awaits.”

  Harold guided Giselle through the dining room, gently cradling her elbow in his hand and leaning slightly toward her. His body language broadcast volumes, but my sister seemed oblivious. When we sat down, I quickly inspected his ring finger. Empty. I’d grill him first, of course. But unless he was gay or committed, I knew what I had to do.

  Harold gave me a knowing look. “I know you’re somewhat concerned with kashrut, so I figured you wouldn’t have a problem here.”

  I knew it! Harold was a member of the tribe. The term kashrut referred to Jewish dietary laws and wasn’t generally known by non-Jews. And he was right. Fish with both fins and scales were on the permitted list and on the menu of every sushi restaurant.

  He immediately assumed the role of host and ordered warm sake for the table to start off the evening. My usually bossy sister seemed satisfied to sit back and let him take over the dinner order, too. Maybe the Chianti had calmed her down. Or maybe it was Harold; clearly a good sign.

  We spent the rest of the evening sampling rice balls covered in raw yellowtail and tuna. Harold expertly picked up a piece of salmon roll with his chopsticks, dipped it in a slurry of soy sauce and wasabi, and popped the whole thing in his mouth. I liked the fact he wasn’t a dainty eater.

  At one point Giselle asked, “What kind of food does Quincy want at the wedding? Does it have to be kosher?”

  I cleared my throat. “Um, we’re not exactly sure about anything at this point. It seems that Noah’s father, Eli, booked the Hillcrest Country Club.”

  Giselle tossed her chopsticks on the table. “And just what is wrong with my place?”

  “I gather the only thing wrong with it is that Eli isn’t in control. Plus, he wants a huge production with at least three hundred of his closest friends.”

  “But didn’t the kids say they wanted a small, intimate affair?”

  “As far as I know, they still do.”

  “Well, if they change their minds, I can expand the guest list. We can easily accommodate five hundred people.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not the only problem, G. Noah and his father are no longer speaking.”

  “Problem solved.” She brushed her hands together. “I’ll just go ahead with my plans and the heck with Eli.”

  “We can’t just write him off! We need to make things right between Noah and his family.”

  “What’s the father’s name again?” Harold asked.

  “Eli. Eli Kaplan.”

  “I’m also a member of Hillcrest. Maybe I know him. What does he do?”

  “Manufactures batteries for electric cars.”

  Harold’s eyes widened. “That putz? He’s brought more lawsuits against the oil industry than any other alternative-energy wonk. He even filed a suit against Eagan Oil over alleged pollution.”

  Giselle frowned. “Really? How come I never heard about this?”

  Harold covered her hand with his. “Because it was a minor annoyance that legal took care of. I’m the one who sweats the small stuff, remember? You have enough on your plate.”

  Great. Now I had to deal with bad blood between the elder Kaplan and my sister. Could this wedding get any more complicated? “What happened?”

  “It was thrown out of court, like most of his other lawsuits.”

  “So, if he loses all the time, why does he do it?”

  “Because he can. The irony is, his battery yard has been cited multiple times for polluting the environment with heavy metals.”

  “So, his objections to having the wedding at the Eagan estate have more to do with his failed lawsuit?”

  He dipped his head in the affirmative. “That and the fact we’re competing energy providers.”

  When the waiter brought the bill to Harold, Giselle headed for the ladies’ room.

  As soon as she was out of earshot I said, “I notice you don’t wear a ring. Are you married?”

  He briefly shook his head. “Never found the right one.”

  “So, what do you think of my sister?”

  “Huh?”

  “You and Giselle.”

  He reddened and briefly looked away. “Gigi and I’ve been friends forever. That’s all.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I rested my hand on his arm. “I can see right through you.”

  “Wow. You may not look like sisters, but you have a lot in common. You don’t hold back, do you?”

  “I’m a little more subtle when I have to be. Have you ever told her how you feel?”

  “Don’t say anything to her. When Ryan died, Gigi said she could never love anyone again.”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s over that by now. If I were you, I wouldn’t take the chance that another Ryan might come along and sweep her away.”

  Harold stared at me. “Do you really think . . .”

  Just then Giselle came back to the table. “What did I miss?”

  I winked at Harold. “Nothing,”

  She gathered her purse and turned to go. This time he placed his hand ever so lightly on the small of her back.

  CHAPTER 26

  The following morning was Quilty Tuesday, and Giselle arrived early, gliding through the front door in a white, pin-tucked linen shift. “I know just what you can do with the money Daddy left you, Sissy. Move into a better neighborhood. Did you know this area is crawling with homeless people? I just saw one panhandling on the Balboa Boulevard off-ramp.”

  I bowed deeply at the waist and swept my arm toward the living room. “Was the drive over the hill any better this morning, your highness?”

  She ignored the jab. “I came early because I need to talk to you about something.” She yawned. “And I need more coffee.”

  I poured her a cup of Italian roast and we moved to matching easy chairs in the living room. “I’m listening.”

  “Something happened last night. When I arrived back home, Harold was parked in the driveway, waiting for me.”

  So he took my advice!

  She stopped and looked for my response, but I kept my expression neutral. “Go on.”

  “As soon
as I parked my car, he got out of his and said we needed to have a serious talk. He looked really worried. Naturally, I thought something was wrong with the business, so I went over to where he was standing and asked, ‘Is everything okay?’”

  “And?”

  “And he kissed me.” She took a gulp of coffee and stared at me over the rim of her cup.

  “And?” I smiled at the thought of Harold finally releasing all those years of unrequited love.

  “And he spent the night.” She grinned and raised an eyebrow. “I guess it’s true what I’ve heard about Jewish men. We hardly slept.”

  I wagged my head and sighed. I guessed if Jews had to suffer being stereotyped, that wasn’t such a bad one. “I’m happy for you both.”

  “You know, Sissy, I always wondered why Harold never got married. I mean, he had girlfriends, but none of them ever stuck. I began to suspect he might be a closet gay. But when I asked him about it last night, he said he could never get serious with anyone because he’d been in love with me ever since our days at Wharton.”

  “I’m surprised you never picked up on that, because it was glaringly obvious to me last night how he felt.”

  “Looking back, I think I did and I didn’t. He’s been my best friend since college, and more a partner than employee. But if I’m honest, I have to admit I’ve always felt a sexy vibe with him. He’s such a hunk, don’t you think?”

  “But you never acted on those ‘sexy vibes’?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Dumb, huh?”

  “I’m sure last night changed everything.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Being with Harold feels right. You know? And, boy, is he great in the sack.” She took another slug of caffeine. “Here’s the thing, though. He wants to get married, and right away! He even talked about starting a family. I’m only forty-four. He says, with the help of modern medicine, there’s still a chance we could have a baby, but we’d need to get started soon.”

  “Marriage? A baby? Is that what you want?”

  She shrugged. “I know it’s sudden, but I like the idea of being married to Harold. I just don’t know if I want to start over again with another child. I already have a son who will graduate from Harvard Law in another year.”