“He sweet-talked them into donating to his most recent gig, the vegan church. Some of them coughed up as much as fifty thousand bucks a pop. Apparently he’s adept at fleecing women with more money than sense. Lucky for us, there’s a paper trail. Most of them reported their contributions so they could take the tax deduction. I’m guessing they took whatever else Gailworth was willing to give them.”
“That sounds pretty sleazy.” I switched my phone to my other ear. “Do you mean what I think you mean?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Hard to understand why anyone would fall for his phony pitch. I’ve always imagined vegans and vegetarians to be smart people.”
“Most of them are smart enough to do their due diligence and follow proper guidelines.”
“So Gailworth was using his vegan church as a way to con women? Do you think he stopped after he married Melissa?”
“He had to, didn’t he? A wife would definitely cramp his style. That was almost three years ago.”
“Do you think he still has money stashed away?”
“Only if it’s well hidden, and I doubt he has much. His dwindling savings and his collection plate have kept him going. By now he’s probably desperate to get a grip on Natasha’s career.”
“But why, if Natasha Korba is the pot of gold he thinks she is, would he put her health at risk the way he did?”
“Lack of common sense would be my guess,” Nick said. “Gailworth has to keep up the vegan sham for the time being, but he and the girl’s mother obviously hadn’t done their research when it came to the nutritional needs of a growing child like Natasha.”
“We have to protect that little girl.” My jaw tensed with frustration. “I wish we knew more about her mother. I’ve tried a few searches and came up with nothing helpful. Not even her maiden name. Any chance of finding out more about her?”
“That’s a work in progress, lady. Stay tuned.” It had been a while since he’d called me lady. I liked the sound.
“What do you think we should do in the meantime?”
“What Korba wants. Keep the girl hospitalized until after the custody hearing and hope Korba and Natasha’s doctor can convince the judge to place her with her grandfather.”
“You know, Korba is single, and at least sixty. I doubt that’s going to work in his favor.”
“Does he date anyone?” Nick asked.
“If he does, I’ve never heard about it. You think a fiancée would help his case?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. A wife would be even better, but I doubt he could get that done in the next few days.”
I had to laugh. Nick didn’t know Korba. I wouldn’t put anything past him. But we had strayed off my reason for calling, so I pulled us back on topic.
“So are you available tomorrow night?”
“Symphony, huh? I’m tempted to play hard to get, but we both know I’m going to say yes. It sounds like you’re a little intimidated by this Korba character. I’d like to have a look at him.”
“I’m not alone. He probably intimidates a lot of people. I just want to make sure he doesn’t intimidate Natasha.”
“I get that. So what’s the dress code?”
I thought about Nick’s usually casual wardrobe. “A suit and tie would be nice.”
“I can manage that. Shall we make a night of it and have dinner first?”
“The thought of a romantic dinner with Nick filled me with visions of candlelight and a warm sense of hope for our future. “I’m going on a llama hike with Amah and Jack Saturday morning, but I should be home in time.”
“Great. What time does the symphony start?”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Then I’ll make reservations for five thirty and pick you up at five.”
Chapter 20
My Friday morning emails consisted of the usual requests for articles. I printed some for the patrons who liked to read words printed on paper and arranged for a courier to deliver them. The rest I sent out as email attachments. My agenda for the noon meeting of the CME Committee was finished, and the related addendums were gathered.
With those chores out of the way, I mulled over the hidden passageway Harry had discovered in Quinn’s bathroom and speculated about how many people knew it was there. Dr. Lowe, obviously. Cleo thought Quinn must have told Varsha and Sanjay. And anyone who knew about the false wall in Quinn’s bathroom probably had a key to the secret door on the third floor. If Quinn hadn’t killed Lowe, and Varsha hadn’t killed Lowe, that left Sanjay. Impossible? No, but highly improbable.
I wondered if Cleo had found a chance to question Varsha. I sent her an email with just a question mark. She emailed back an exclamation point. I left Lola busy photocopying agendas and hiked over to Cleo’s office. She looked up at me over her half-moons.
“Shut the door.”
I shut the door and slid into the chair across from her. “What? Did you get her to talk?”
“It took some convincing, but I played up her vulnerability in light of the shooting in Quinn’s office. I pretended to think that the only way the shooter could have gotten in there was through Varsha’s work area. I told her she should insist on a safe exit from her work station. I even implied that I would raise the issue at our next Department Head meeting and get home office involved if need be. At that point she swore me to secrecy and finally told me about the passage.”
I let out a breath. “What did she say? Does Sanjay know?”
“No. That’s the weird thing. I was sure if Varsha knew, he would know. But she said Quinn didn’t want to tell Sanjay until after his six-month probationary period, in case he didn’t work out.
“Who else knows?”
“According to Varsha, just she and Quinn.” Cleo’s forehead was creased, a sure sign she was worried. She almost never did that. She believed it caused wrinkles.
“What about Sanjay’s predecessor? Did she know?”
“Varsha wasn’t sure. She said when Quinn gave her the key, he told her not to tell anyone, so she and the former assistant administrator never discussed it.”
“Well, somehow Lowe got in there. And so did his killer. It’s beyond belief to suspect that Varsha lured Gavin Lowe in there and killed him, and impossible to conclude that Sanjay’s predecessor came from all the way across the continent to do the deed.”
Cleo’s eyes filled with tears. “Dear God, Aimee. This looks so bad for Jared.”
“I know.” I wanted to reassure her, but my heart was sinking, too. “There’s got to be some other explanation. Harry’s looking for whoever it was who did the construction work. Maybe that will give us a new lead.”
We both had noon meetings to facilitate, so I hiked back to the library and we each went about our workday.
The CME Committee’s luncheon meeting went smoothly with a new chair at the helm. The TMC library’s forensic consortium, a major part of my job description, was still in its early stages and I had worried that it might flounder without Dr. Beardsley’s influence. I was relieved when Quinn convinced Dr. Phyllis Poole to accept the chairmanship. She and I had been thrown together several months earlier in a precarious situation involving one of her patients. We weren’t chums by any stretch, but that incident had created a bond of mutual respect. Poole believed in the forensic project, and with her reputation for toughness, she could wield the necessary clout to win over the rest of the committee.
Quinn was conspicuously absent from the meeting, but the physician members were tactful enough to avoid asking about him. The entire medical community knew that Quinn was a murder suspect, and they were all aware that home office had placed him on administrative leave while the investigation was ongoing. Sanjay D’Costa sat in as the ex-officio representative of administration, but he spent most of the time texting on his phone and paid scant attention to the business going on in the room.
The committee approved my budget items: two new print journals and the newest edition of a pricey book titled Disposition of
Toxic Drugs and Chemicals in Man that was considered to be toxicology’s bible.
At quitting time Cleo called, sounding frustrated. “We need to get Quinn back to work as soon as possible. I’m getting complaints from the medical staff and from ancillary services. They’re not happy about Sanjay’s knee-jerk management style. I know he’s trying his best, but he’s no Jared Quinn.”
I commiserated until she’d finished letting off steam, and then tried to lighten the moment before ending our call.
“It’s Valentine’s Day and Sig is a romantic guy. Are you doing something special tonight?”
“Sig’s rehearsing with the symphony, but he’ll be home in time to go out for dessert later. I hope you haven’t forgotten about tomorrow night’s concert. Who did you end up inviting?”
“I haven’t forgotten. Nick’s coming with me.”
I heard her whisper, “Yes!” Then she said, “Speaking of Valentine’s Day, are you celebrating with Nick tonight?”
“Not tonight, but we’re going to dinner tomorrow night before the symphony.”
“Good. About time you two got back on the road to romance.” I knew she was smiling. I let her think it was a belated Valentine’s Day date. The truth was, both Nick and I had skirted any mention of the holiday for lovers. Maybe we weren’t quite there yet.
At home I checked with Jack and Amah about what to pack for the morning llama hike, then locked myself in and settled down with the TV remote and a turkey pot pie. And more pain pills. Amah called at eight thirty on the old landline phone Jack insisted I keep in my apartment.
“Sweetie, are you busy?” she asked.
“Not really, why?”
“Jack and I are going out to the Feed Bag for dessert and coffee and we thought you might like to join us.”
The Feed Bag was the best restaurant in Coyote Creek and boasted a great dessert menu, but Amah and Jack didn’t need a third wheel tagging along on Valentine’s Day. I declined with thanks.
Ten minutes later my landline rang again. I considered ignoring it, thinking Amah would try to persuade me to change my mind. After four rings, the answering machine came on.
“Aimee, this is Jared Quinn. If you’re home, pick up your damn phone.”
Chapter 21
Not good. I could think of only one explanation for the anger in Quinn’s voice. He knew about our invasion of his office. Should I pick up? Or should I call Cleo first to see what she knew. Definitely call Cleo first.
She didn’t answer. Of course not. She and Sig were going out for dessert after the symphony rehearsal. I tried her cell phone, but it went to voicemail. I asked her to call me. That left me with several difficult choices. I could ignore Quinn’s call and hope and pray he wouldn’t decide to come out to Coyote Creek and throttle me, or I could call him back and play dumb. The other option was to wait to hear from Cleo. I opted to wait, but that only worked for about twenty minutes, until Quinn’s next call. I let the machine pick up.
“Me again,” he said. “If I don’t hear from you by ten o’clock, I’m going to pay you a visit.”
I checked the time. Almost nine o’clock. The last thing I needed was an irate Quinn on my doorstep. If he was angry enough to cause a commotion, Jack might decide to shoot him. But Jack wasn’t home.
Minutes crawled by while I paced my small studio and glanced out my kitchen window watching for Jack and Amah to pull into their driveway, or for headlights to make their way down the lane to my home above the barn. Every call to Cleo went to voicemail. I needed to talk to someone. At ten minutes to ten, I called Nick, hoping he would answer but expecting to get his voicemail.
“Hey, lady, I’m glad you called. I thought you’d be all tucked in and resting up for tomorrow’s big llama hike.”
“There’s a problem.” I filled him in on Quinn’s calls and my attempts to reach Cleo.
“I’m on my way. Call me if he shows up before I get there.”
“No, wait. We can’t have a scene at my grandparents’ place. I’m going to call Quinn and get it over with. He doesn’t have the authority to fire me while he’s suspended. All he can do is read me the riot act.”
“He can do worse than that if he’s backed into a corner, especially if he really did kill that doctor.” I heard Nick’s quickened breathing. “Aimee, make your call, but do it from your cell phone, in your car, on your way here.”
“What about my grandparents? I told them I’d hike with them tomorrow.”
“Leave them a message. Tell them I talked you into spending the night with me. They’ll be thrilled. And you can go home tomorrow in time for the hike, unless you think Quinn’s a threat to your grandparents if he goes out there and finds you gone. If that’s the case, we need to get the police involved.”
“I can’t believe he’d try to intimidate my grandparents.” The thought took my breath away.
“I hope you’re right, but you’d better hurry up and make that call, just in case. It’s almost ten o’clock.”
I dialed the number Quinn had left for me. He answered on the first ring, sounding surprisingly calm.
“You cut it pretty close, Machado. One more minute and I’d have been on my way to Coyote Creek.” Something in his voice made me suspect he was bluffing.
“I don’t believe you, Quinn. You wouldn’t dare trespass on my grandparents’ property. One word from me and Jack would fill you with buckshot.”
Quinn surprised me with a laugh. “Hell, I forgot about him. Your call probably saved my life.”
“You could be right. No one messes with Jack.” I let that sink in for a moment, then asked Quinn why he’d demanded that I call.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Aimee. Cleo filled me in on your visit to my office during the fire drill at TMC. I want you to explain yourself, since I have no doubt you’re the one who came up with the plan.”
“Cleo said what? When?” I couldn’t believe she’d done that without alerting me.
“As soon as Varsha told me about her conversation with Cleo, I made it my business to find out what was really going on. It took some persuading, but Cleo finally caved and told me about your brother’s discovery. She said I’d have to get the rest of the details from you.”
There was no point holding back, so I confessed how Harry and I had worked out the floor plan of his office and how Harry had suspected a false wall and a secret exit. I swore none of us would give away his secret, that we had all agreed not to tell the police with what we knew.
“So Cleo said, but she did emphasize I should do that myself.”
“Then you haven’t told them yet?”
“No. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. How would their knowing about the passage help to prove my innocence? It’s more likely to imply that I’m guilty.”
“Still, if they find out later and think you were withholding information that could help them with the case, it would look bad for you.”
“I’ll take my chances. That passage is there to protect TMC’s patients and employees from shooters and other crazies. The whole point is that it’s a secret.”
“But if the police found out someone else knew about it, that would be a plus for you, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s the hell of it,” Quinn said. “No one knew except Varsha and me, and you’ll never convince me that she told anyone. Don’t you think I’d have come clean to the police if I thought there was some plausible explanation for how Lowe and his killer got in there?”
“What about the woman who was assistant administrator before Sanjay? What if she told someone? Maybe she let it slip accidentally and never mentioned it to you.”
“I’ve already been in touch with her. She insists she didn’t and I believe her.”
“Have you been in touch with the contractor who did the work? Maybe he talked.”
“He was paid well to keep quiet, so I doubt it. Don’t even ask me how I found him in the first place. I figured if I could find him again, and he could shed light on how anyone else m
ight know about the work he did, then I’d take it to the police.”
“Then tell them that, if you decide to talk to them. It might help to explain why you didn’t mention it right away. Are you having any luck finding the guy?”
“No. I’m still trying to track him down. I’m not even sure he gave me a real name. He said his name was Bob Smith and called his business Portico Construction Company. The work he did was top-notch, but the stairwell portion wasn’t included in the plans when the job was permitted, so it wasn’t strictly legal.”
“Did he file a permit?”
“He did, but only for the bathroom portion. That’s why he won’t want to hear from me. He’s a boomer who travels under the radar and keeps a pretty low profile. I may never find him.”
Boomer. I was familiar with the construction workers’ term because of Harry. A transient worker who travels from job to job. Indeed, he would be hard to track down, especially if he had done the secret passage portion of the job under the table. If he had used a phony tax ID or social security number, maybe even a phony business name, we might never find him. After all the trouble we’d gone to, it looked like a dead end.
“So how mad are you?” I asked. “Will I be fired when you get back to work?”
“I’m still deciding. Don’t tip the scales by giving me any more reasons.”
After talking to Quinn, I remembered I was supposed to be on my way to Nick’s place. I called him back, assuring him that I was fine, then told him about my conversation with Quinn.
“You believed him?” Nick asked. “You really think he’s innocent?”
“Nick, if you don’t trust my judgment about Quinn, at least trust Cleo and Varsha. They’ve both known him for five years, and neither of them thinks he’s capable of cold-blooded murder.”
“I’ll take your word for it, for now. Earlier when you called you said he sounded pissed at you. If he does anything again that makes you feel the least bit threatened, he’s dead meat. And you can tell him I said so.”
“Okay, but you’ll probably have to get in line behind Jack and Harry.”
Breach of Ethics Page 17