by Marja McGraw
“Right. At the museum.”
“Well, there’s not much more to it. We’ve looked for clues about what happened to him, but there wasn’t much to go on.”
“Was he murdered?” Mikey asked, somehow reminding me of one of the Hardy Boys. Although Chris wasn’t his biological father, there seemed to be a bit of him in my son.
“It looks like it. It appears that someone hit him on the head.”
“That’s what I thought. I mean, he probably didn’t dig a hole and then fall into it and die. Somebody must have put him there. And if he wasn’t murdered, then they would have just called the police or something.”
“That’s a very good deduction, Mikey. You’d make a heck of a detective. Come see me when you’re a little older.”
“Don’t put any ideas in his head,” I said. “Chris does enough deducting for both of them.”
“Your husband sure looks familiar to me,” Janet said. “I wish I could place him. I’m assuming he’s never been in trouble with the law, right? I’m not linking the familiarity I feel about him to my job.”
“Did you see the article about the body in today’s paper?”
“Not yet. I haven’t had time to read the paper yet. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m sure you’ll figure out why he makes you feel like you’ve seen him before. It’ll come to you when you least expect it.”
“He looks like – ”
“Mikey, hush up. Let Janet figure out this mystery on her own.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror and my son was grinning.
“Okay, Mom.”
Janet glanced from me to Mikey and looked perplexed. “Is this a challenge? You two seem to be getting quite a kick out of this.”
“Yes, but it’s an easy challenge. You’ll feel silly when it finally dawns on you. Trust me on this one.”
Most of the ride home was filled with childlike questions from Mikey about being a copper, uh, police officer. Janet answered his questions easily and seemed to enjoy talking to him. I liked her more all the time. And then things turned quiet. We all seemed to be talked out for the moment.
As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that Janet had an intent look on her face and she seemed to be ticking items off on her fingers. I watched her, curious about what she was thinking.
“I’ve got it,” she said.
“Got what?” Mikey asked.
“I feel like the biggest dope on the face of the earth. And I call myself a detective. One of the other homicide detectives has mentioned your husband. I should have made the connection right away, especially given the way he talks. Rick Mason talked about Chris after that murder last year.”
I grinned at her. “That’s when Chris and I met.”
“They call him the Bogey Man, don’t they?”
I laughed. “I call him that all the time. And, yes, so do other people.”
“The resemblance is astonishing, but with him wearing modern, everyday clothes, it kind of threw me off.”
“I knew it would come to you eventually.”
The three of us headed into the house. After assuring me that he didn’t have any homework, Mikey took his things upstairs and headed out to join Chris and Don. Janet and I set the table before we wandered outside.
“How are the dogs getting along?” I asked, looking at Don.
“Humphrey Bogart,” Don replied.
“Ask a silly question…” I smiled at him.
He turned to Janet. “I can’t believe you didn’t see it right away. I mean, he’s the spitting image.”
“I know, I know.” Janet grinned at her boyfriend. “I should have seen it. Actually, I did, but I couldn’t put my finger on who he resembled. I’ll have to tell Rick Mason who we had dinner with tonight. He’ll get a kick out of it.”
Chris perked up at the mention of the name. “Rick Mason? You know Rick Mason? I’m surprised he remembers me.”
“He seems to think you’re unforgettable,” Janet said. “I have a feeling that he’s probably right.”
Chris excused himself to check on the ribs, and Don and Mikey went with him. Men seem to enjoy talking over the top of a barbeque grill. It’s a guy thing. Mikey was learning early, thanks to Chris.
I turned to Janet and tried to be as nonchalant as possible. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “So, Janet, what if Chris and I decided to look into Charles Blakely’s death? Would you have a problem with that? Would we be in your way?” I crossed my fingers behind my back like Mikey might do.
“Honestly? This is being given a very, very low priority right now. We have a couple of high profile cases that we can’t ignore. There isn’t really much to go on, but you’re welcome to take a look at it. I take that back. I can’t condone a civilian getting involved. But I guess what I don’t know can’t hurt me. And there’s certainly no rule about you researching Blakely and that house. I can’t stop you from doing that.
“But tell me, why do you want to investigate this case? Do you have a personal interest in it other than the house being the location for your new restaurant?”
“Midge Meyers and her daughter asked us to look into it. They understand that, at least for now, no one is going to take a close look at Blakely’s death. Midge read about Chris’s involvement in that murder last year and thought maybe he could do something to help find out what happened.”
“You talked to Midge and Pidge?” Janet, it turns out, is very good at stifling a laugh when all she wants to do is let loose. Her lips were quivering even as she spoke the two names. Of course, she’d met the women when she notified them of Blakely’s death. It seemed like there were a lot of things she wanted to laugh at, but she always held back. I wondered if it had to do with her job.
I was not so talented and burst out laughing. “Yes,” I said, taking a deep breath, “they were here this morning. All three feet of them. And that’s combining their heights.”
Janet couldn’t contain herself anymore and started to laugh. “They sure are little women, aren’t they? Like little China dolls.”
“Little oddly named China dolls. Midge and Pidge?”
Sometimes something can just hit you just right so that you laugh yourself silly over it. This was one of those times.
Chris and Don walked over to see what we were laughing about. “What’s going on?” Chris asked.
“Midge and Pidge. That’s what’s going on,” I replied, almost choking on their names.
Chris looked at Don and asked, “What’s funny about them?”
“Who cares?” Don asked. “I don’t get to see Janet laugh this hard very often. I like it. By the way, what are a midge and a pidge?”
“Little teeny tiny women,” Janet said, “who want a murder solved. Oh, my goodness, we shouldn’t be making fun of them. They seemed like nice enough people.”
“You’re right,” I said, starting to sober up. “I don’t know what set me off – their names, I guess. They were actually pleasant, and they just want to know what happened to their relative. And that’s not funny since he was murdered.”
“You told Janet about our visitors this morning?” Chris looked surprised, even as he curled his upper lip under.
The lip maneuver made Janet start to laugh all over again. “She did. And I have no problem with you and Pamela doing a little research.”
Chris looked at me. He knew we’d be doing more than a little research if we could. I winked at him. It was time to keep our lips buttoned and dummy up. I didn’t want Janet putting the kibosh on our project.
The rest of the afternoon was relatively quiet with two couples getting to know each other, and by late afternoon we were seated at the table gnawing on ribs. I put out lots of napkins and wet cloths.
Janet shared a little information with us. They hadn’t found much at the house, but at least they had the wallet and the page from a letter. It turned out to be a letter that Blakely was writing to his sister.
“Can you tell me what it said?” I asked over
dinner.
“Oh, these ribs are so good that they should be illegal,” Janet said, moaning. “It was only the beginning of the letter. He started out saying that things were turning around for him. Apparently he was having trouble finding a job, and it looked like he had a good prospect. He also said he was thinking about moving out of the boarding house. Oh, I forgot to tell you that the house was being used for a boarding house.”
“Pidge told us about that,” I said.
“Okay, well, Blakely said he was having a problem with someone at the house. He didn’t say what the problem was or who it was with because he never finished the letter. Other than that, we don’t have anything to go on.”
Chris rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So, we need to quit dopin’ off and get to work on this.”
Janet raised her eyebrows and Chris saw it.
“Dopin’ off means we’ve been asleep at the wheel. From what the Bobbsey Twins, Midge and Pidge told us this morning, it sounds like Blakely was probably a good Joe who got a raw deal.”
“Where should we start?” I asked.
Chris leaned back and rolled his lip again, while I rolled my eyes. Sometimes the Bogey Man could be a bit much, but then I was used to him. Janet and Don were eating it up, so I held my tongue.
“I’d say we need to start with who owned the house while it was being used as a boarding house, don’t ya think?”
“I agree,” Janet said. “Maybe you can find out who was living there; who the tenants were. You could sure save me a lot of time and energy. I’m assuming you will keep me updated, right?”
“Of course,” I said. “And if you find out anything else, you’ll share with us, right?”
“Maybe.”
“Huh?”
“Pamela, to quote your son I’m a copper, and I have a job to do. I know I said this is low priority, but… Well, it’s not a game. It depends on the direction this takes. I hope you understand my position.”
“I do. I might not like it, but I do.”
Don sat quietly and took in our conversation before becoming involved. “I know I’m not a homicide detective, but I am a detective in the burglary division. I do a lot of research, and sometimes I waste a lot of time. Look at it this way, Janet. These people can do the legwork for you. With as little as you have to go on, if you solve this case you’re going to be walkin’ in tall cotton. They’ll feel fulfilled and you’ll be showing what a great job you can do. It’s a win-win situation, if you ask me.”
“Yeah,” Mikey echoed. “Win-win.” I’d almost forgotten that my son was sitting with us and listening to everything. I hoped this wasn’t more fodder for his stories at school.
Janet smiled at Don. “Have I told you lately what a smart man you are?” She touched the tips of her fingers to his cheek.
Don put his arm around her and pulled her close.
“Okay, starting tomorrow Pamela and I are on the case. Look out goons, and look out world. Here comes the Bogey Man. Oh, and his wife, of course.”
I didn’t like being an afterthought. We’d discuss that later. I could see by Chris’s sheepish grin that he knew what I was thinking. We’d only been married for a little over a year, but we read each other like we’d been married forever. This was a good thing and it worked for us.
Chapter Thirteen
When I arose the next morning, Chris was already seated at the computer downstairs in the spare bedroom doing research. He wasn’t going to let any grass grow under his feet, and neither was I.
After I poured myself a cup of coffee, let the dogs outside and joined Chris, I peeked over his shoulder, taking a look at the screen. “Have you found anything yet?”
“I have a feeling this is going to take some legwork. There’s so much available on the Internet, but not what I’m looking for; or maybe I just don’t know where to look. I thought about checking with the county assessor to find out who the previous owners of the house were. What do you think?”
“That’s a good idea. I wonder if the Hall of Records might have something, too. Maybe we could even look at old rental ads in the newspaper. They should be available at the library. It would be a long shot, but – ”
Chris interrupted me with his own thoughts. “Actually, I think back then they used to stick a For Rent sign in the yard and hope for the best.” Chris took my coffee cup out of my hand and took a sip after entering a new search on the computer.
He was probably right. Things were different in the old days. Life was simpler and For Rent signs were hammered into the ground. Maybe a few ads went in the newspaper, but like I said, things were simpler. There were no freeways and there were a lot fewer people. Los Angeles was a different place. People weren’t in a rush all the time.
I left him at the computer and poured myself another cup of coffee before I let the dogs back inside, thinking we needed to put in a doggie door. I saw that Chris had already fed them. We always brought their bowls inside at night, and they were now sitting on the back porch. He must have gotten up very early.
It was time to wake up my son.
“Watson, go get Mikey.”
She barely glanced at me before bounding up the stairs, creating a ruckus. I could hear laughing and figured she was gently nipping at his toes. He’d told me that she always tickled his feet when she did that. The giggling finally ended and some grumbling could be heard. Since I was downstairs, I figured I was meant to hear it.
By the time Mikey came down, I had breakfast on the table. “Go get your dad,” I said. “Tell him breakfast is ready.
“Dad!” he yelled, leaning out of the kitchen doorway. “Come and get it.”
“I could have done that, Mikey. Next time try actually walking down the hall to get him, for heaven’s sake.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He plopped down in the chair and waited for Chris so we could all eat together.
“So what’s up for today?” Mikey asked over a forkful of pancake that was dripping with syrup.
I smiled. “Other than you going to school, not much. We’ll probably do some research, but you couldn’t help with that. If I know you, you’d rather sit and play computer games anyway. Besides, you’d be bored to tears.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. What kind of research?” He dipped another forkful of pancake in syrup.
“We’re going to try to find out who used to own the restaurant.”
“Does that mean you really are on the case? I thought you were just talkin’ through your hat last night. I was gonna double-dog-dare you to take the case, but now I don’t have to.” That boy really did watch too many old movies with Chris – although I wasn’t about to complain about his use of the forties slang. There were so many worse things he could say. Maybe we really were setting a good example for him.
“Yes, we’re on the case, but I double-dog-dare you not to talk about it at school. Get my drift?”
“Gotcha. Good breakfast, Mom. I looove pancakes.” He finished a glass of milk and leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach like he’d seen Chris do.
“I know you do, son, and I love you.”
“Ah, Mom. Don’t go gettin’ sappy on me.”
I patted him on the head, figuring I could be just as sappy as I wanted, at least for a few more years.
Chris sat quietly and ate his breakfast. I could see him trying to stifle a grin. “I’ll take Mikey to school this morning, Pamela. You take it easy.”
I was speechless. No one ever told me to take it easy. This was a moment to end all moments. I stood up to take my plate to the sink, but stopped and kissed the top of Chris’s head first. My man, I thought, what a guy!
In the middle of washing the dishes it struck me. This task wasn’t part of taking it easy. I rolled my eyes and glanced over my shoulder at my boys. They were sitting, heads together, making small talk.
When Chris and Mikey left for school, I put the dogs outside and sat down at the computer, trying to do a search of my own. I didn’t have any better luck than Ch
ris, so I pulled out the phone book and called the County Assessor’s Office. After listening to menus and punching in a lot of numbers, not to mention plenty of waiting, I finally reached a real live person. She was friendly, and I was off to a good start.
“Good morning,” I said. “My husband and I bought an old house that we’re renovating into a restaurant. I wondered if you could tell me how to go about finding out who the previous owners were on the property.”
“Do you have an address?” she asked.
“I do,” and I read it to her.
“I’m going to put you on hold while I see what I can find for you.”
I heard Chris pull in the driveway, and when the front door opened I could hear him whistling.
“Who are you talking to?” he asked, pulling a chair up next to me and rubbing his cheek against mine.
“The County Assessor’s Office. She’s looking up the address for me.”
Chris sat patiently while I waited. I was about to give up, thinking she’d forgotten me, when she came back on the line.
She gave me a parcel number and said she would fax me some deed references, and said I’d need to take the information and check with the County Recorder. I should be able to find what I needed there.
“I can’t thank you enough for your help,” I said. “I honestly didn’t think it would be this easy.”
She laughed, but it wasn’t a sound of humor. “You’re only beginning. Check with the Recorder, and good luck. They’re pretty busy over there.”
Chris and I decided to drive over to the Recorder’s Office and see if we could find any information. It was early, so maybe we would arrive ahead of the crowd. In Los Angeles, the county offices are always busy.
We found only a short line waiting for us. Glory be! Unfortunately, the person at the head of the line took a long time. Fifteen minutes passed – then five more. Chris left me waiting while he went outside to get some air. I finally made it to the front of the line, only to have an older woman dash my hopes.
“Fill out this form. We’ll get to it as we can,” she said. She had longish grey hair, held back from her face with a clip. Her mode of dress was severe, and she had the pinched lips of an uptight and cranky woman who was ready to retire and probably couldn’t. Okay, so I tend to make up scenarios to go with people’s appearances.