by Leena Clover
I walked up to the small desk and talked to the blond young girl who sat there, filing her nails with an emery board. She must have been about eighteen.
“Hi, I called yesterday to ask about some recycled paper?”
She looked up at me.
“Unh-hunh.”
“I wanted to talk about it.”
“Unh-hunh.”
“Can you show me some of it please?”
“Unh-hunh…”
I wondered if this girl spoke anything else. She slowly got to her feet and went behind a screen. After about five minutes, she came out with a ream of paper and handed it to me. She sat down and got back to her filing.
I ruffled the pages and held them up to the light. There was a watermark on it, looking very like the one on the letters.
“Can I use your phone?”
The girl looked doubtful.
“Please, it’s important.”
I called Stan at the police station, hoping he would be at his desk. After giving a quick update on where I was, I asked him to read the watermark. Parts of it matched. I hung up, promising to bring a sample of the paper back.
“Do you know what these numbers mean?” I asked the girl, pointing toward the watermark.
She shrugged.
“Who would know?”
“My boss. He had to go to the bank.”
“When will he come back?”
She shrugged again.
I told her we would be back in an hour. We walked out, and my feet turned toward to the bakery. We gave their donuts a trial run and I packed a couple dozen to take back home.
Tony gave me a look.
“What? They’re that good.”
There wasn’t much happening in the mall or the parking lot. We saw a car drive up and park in front of the paper place. A man got out and went in.
“I think that’s our cue,” Tony said, pulling me up.
We walked into the store. The man greeted us and asked us what we wanted.
“We were here earlier. We talked to a young girl.”
“Oh, you must mean Candy. She’s off to school.”
I explained what I was looking for and asked about the paper. The man brought some of the paper out and I asked him about the watermark.
“Oh! That’s just a way of tracking the stock. See? These first two letters are for the company. Every paper they make has them. The next two are the product code and the five digits after that refer to a production batch.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Been in this business all my life, missy. Going on 35 years now. That’s what I told the other woman.”
“What other woman?”
“The one who came looking for this kind of paper? Looks like it’s the latest fad among you ladies.”
Chapter 28
“What did she want?” I asked eagerly.
“She wanted to know who had bought this kind of paper.”
“That’s exactly what I want to know. This is very important. I am working with the Swan Creek police on an investigation.”
“I don’t want any trouble,” the man shrank back.
“You can help us solve two murders. Two innocent women were killed in the past two weeks. Please, we need your help.”
The man looked resigned.
“Alright, what do you want to know?”
“Do you remember who bought this paper from you in the last few months? Especially in Swan Creek?”
“I can do better than that. Remember the batch number I told you about? I keep records of everything we sell.”
He pulled out a thick ledger from a shelf and showed me the entries.
“Date, Batch number, Buyer’s name, Date, Sale Price … it’s all there,” he said proudly.
“That’s great,” I smiled at him.
The cops could go over the ledger and corroborate facts. I wanted some quick information.
“Could you tell me offhand who’s your biggest customer in Swan Creek?”
“The High School, of course. They got some kind of special aid for being part of some program. I don’t know what. They have to do some environment friendly things like recycle soda cans, use recycled paper for printing and so on.”
“Who did you deal with at the school?”
“There was an older lady. She was a special consultant they hired for this program. I don’t remember her name.”
“How much paper did you supply?”
The man shrugged. He quoted a big number.
“So I suppose the woman could easily have pulled out some fifty sheets for her own use?”
The man laughed.
“She wouldn’t have to.”
“Why?”
“She was a weird one. She said something about walking the talk. She wanted to buy some of this paper from me for her own use.”
“Did she? I guess you only sell in bulk?”
“That’s right. I told her that but she insisted. Counted out dimes and quarters to buy 50 sheets from me. Did some kind of math standing right there where you are standing. Asked for a discount too. Wily old bird!”
“What happened?”
“I gave her the paper. She was scandalized. Thought it wasn’t proper. It took me a while to convince her.”
“Can you tell us exactly what batch you gave her?”
The man beamed. He pointed to the ledger.
“It’s all right here.”
“The police will follow it up with you. Now, about that other woman you mentioned?”
The man’s face clouded.
“She was mean. Threatened to close down my business. I’m not a pushover, let me tell you. I have been here in this mall, doing honest business for thirty five years. No way I’m going to let some rich dame come and yell at me.”
“Why was she yelling? Did you argue with her?”
The man made a classic gesture.
“She stank of bourbon! Could barely stand on her feet.”
“Did you tell her what you told us?”
“She didn’t stay that long. She turned around and left soon as I said the school bought the paper from us.”
“Can you describe her?”
The man thought a bit.
“Tall, thin, stylish, like my wife would say. Drove one of them fancy German cars.”
“Would you recognize her from a photo?”
“I think so,” the man nodded.
I thanked him for his help and scrambled into the truck. Tony and I looked at each other and said one word.
“Naomi!”
Tony played Devil’s Advocate.
“A doctor taking lives. Really?”
“Let’s not rush ahead. I guess this shows she suspected Dot.”
We drove back to Swan Creek, trying to stay calm.
Stan Miller almost fell out of his chair in shock when I told him everything that had happened.
“How do you do it, Meera? I just don’t know.”
“You have a lot of things to cross check, Stan,” I said. “And one suspect.”
“You think Naomi got a letter too.”
“I think we can safely assume that Naomi got the letters. And my guess is they referred to her addiction.”
“But you don’t think she killed the women?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
“I don’t want to believe she did it.”
I was having a hard time imagining Naomi Lucas as a cold blooded killer. She was a bit snotty and high handed, but she was also an eminent surgeon. Doctors are such a league apart. They save lives. And almost everyone knew Naomi was an alcoholic. There was nothing secret about that.
We walked out of the police station. I was trying to feel good about having made some progress.
“Where to?” Tony asked.
“Home. You want to watch a movie or something? My brain’s fried with all this stuff.”
“I have to be somewhere …” Tony began.
My face must have shown my disapp
ointment because he changed tracks almost immediately.
“Kidding! What could be better than watching a movie with my best friend?”
Sally and Motee Ba were slicing tomatoes in the kitchen.
“Oh, you kids are back!”
“What’s for lunch, Granny?” Tony grinned, giving her a hug.
I echoed his question, declaring I was famished.
“Well, your mother and I were just going to make some sandwiches and open a can of soup.”
“I can eat a sandwich,” Tony said.
“You can order a pizza if you want,” Motee Ba said.
“No need,” I interrupted. “We’ll open a couple more cans of soup and I will grill some sandwiches.”
I pulled out some veggies from the refrigerator and cut them in strips. I made paninis piled high with peppers, chicken and provolone cheese. Served with some creamy tomato soup, they made the perfect lunch, along with some chips and pickles.
“Did you find anything new?” Motee Ba asked.
Sally leaned forward to listen in.
“More than we had bargained for,” I admitted. “Can we talk about it later?”
Tony and I walked over to the guest house. We popped in a disc for Road Trip and settled back to watch it. It was exactly the kind of diversion I needed.
I was rummaging around the freezer looking for some ice cream sandwiches. Tony was nuking some popcorn. If you haven’t tried warm buttered popcorn with frozen dessert, you’re missing a lot.
“I just thought of something,” Tony said as the credits began to roll.
I sighed and signaled him to go on.
“I thought we decided Dot didn’t write the letters.”
This had been nagging at me all day.
“But the paper leads us back to her?” I asked Tony.
“Right.”
I sat up straighter and chewed on a handful of popcorn.
“I’m sure Stan will confirm that the paper from the notes is the same as the paper we found in Dot’s house.”
“So if Dot didn’t write it,” Tony continued, “who did?”
“Who else had access to that paper, Tony?”
“We are back where we started. Good luck finding out who borrowed paper from Dot.”
“What if they didn’t borrow it?” My eyes gleamed with a fresh idea.
“You think they stole it?”
“No, Tony. Neither borrowed nor stole. What if they just took it?”
“That’s stealing in my book.”
“Not if you live in the same house, you dimwit!”
Tony’s expression cleared as he connected the dots.
“Someone living in Dot’s house wrote the notes.”
I spread my hands wide and rolled my eyes.
“Why didn’t you think of this before, Meera? You went there several times.”
That brought me down my high horse.
“Who lives there all the time? Walter and Atticus.”
“Do you want to bet Dot shared everything with her husband?” Tony asked. “That’s what married people do. Especially old ones.”
I knew that first hand, even if I had been raised by a single parent. My grandma talked about every little thing that happened during the day, and Pappa just grunted and switched the channels. I don’t know if he ever heard a word of what Motee Ba said, but we sure did.
“So Dot shares what’s going on in her life with Walter. Many times, it is what people have told her in confidence. Stuff they hold close to heart. Atticus hears them.”
Tony stared at me, a smile spreading across his face.
“Atticus Brown! Rabble rouser, alcoholic, gambler, trouble maker overhears private things about people.”
“Atticus Brown who is always short of money,” I added.
“He decides to blackmail people!”
“People suspected Dot because she was the only one they had taken in their confidence. And she must have been clueless. Just think Tony, all these people were blaming her for something or the other, breathing venom, and she had no idea.”
“She was just happy she was finally going to England,” Tony finished.
I felt a rage rise within me. Dot Brown hadn’t deserved to be killed. She hadn’t deserved to be maligned for something she didn’t do. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I wanted to rush to Henry and Mary Beth and tell them Dot hadn’t betrayed them. She had remained loyal to them till the very end. She was the good friend they had relied on all their life.
The first person I wanted to share this with was Motee Ba. I wanted her to plan a memorial service for Dot, something to celebrate her life and honor her. Tony and I almost jogged the few meters to the kitchen door.
Sally was cutting the crust off cucumber sandwiches.
“We don’t have watercress but this will have to do,” Motee Ba said, adding some tea bags to a hot kettle. She set the kitchen timer and looked up at me.
“The British are very particular about their tea. Pity you didn’t bake those delicious scones of yours, Meera.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s all last moment, but I can put up a good British tea. Learned it as a bride, you know, before your father was born.”
“What’s going on?” I repeated.
“Walter’s here,” Motee Ba beamed. “He’s come to say goodbye. Of course we have to put up a nice tea for him.”
I looked at Sally. She was spooning chicken salad over bread, making a fresh batch of sandwiches.
“Don’t just stand there, Meera. Get those cookies out of the pantry and arrange them on a plate. Don’t forget the doily.”
I turned to look at Tony but he was already making strides toward the living room.
“Meera! Wait…”
For once, I ignored my grandmother and rushed out to the living room.
Pappa was sitting on the couch, next to Walter, wearing a flat woolen cap, tapping his cane. He wears that cap when he’s feeling particularly British or feeling nostalgic about the good old days.
Walter Brown sat next to Pappa, dressed similarly, also wearing a cap. They were reminiscing about the time they were new in Swan Creek.
“Of course we didn’t have this big house at the time,” Pappa boomed. “We lived out there by Willow Springs Lake.”
Walter was nodding happily. He seemed sharp as a tack.
“Let me settle down on my estate. Then you must come visit us this summer. You and the missus both.”
Pappa bobbed his head, nodding and laughing at everything Walter was saying. He looked up and saw me standing there.
“Where’s our tea, girl? My throat’s getting dry.”
Sally came out, holding a loaded tray.
“Let me help you with that,” a voice said, and Tony and I whirled around.
Atticus Brown was rising from a chair, ready to help Sally. He looked fresh and clean and his clothes were new. I took two steps and jabbed him in the chest.
“You! You piece of scum. You killed your Mom!”
Atticus shrank back and collapsed in the chair, looking bewildered.
The blood was rushing in my ears. All I heard was the tap tap of Pappa’s cane as he started berating me.
“You silly girl. Stop this nonsense right now.”
Chapter 29
I felt Tony’s arms around me, holding me tight.
“Calm down, Meera. Calm down.”
I was spluttering, unable to control my anger. Just the sight of Atticus Brown, looking ship shape and happy riled me up.
Sally took my hand and led me to another couch. She made me sit down and sat next to me, gently stroking my back. Tony stood right beside us in a protective stance.
Motee Ba had heard the commotion and come out.
“Meera? Are you okay? What’s the matter, sweetie?”
Pappa pointed his cane at me.
“Where are your manners, girl? These are my guests. Apologize right now.”
“I will do no such thing!�
�
I glared at Atticus Brown, my hands folded on my chest. He wasn’t looking too confident. The perpetual smirk he had on his face had finally subsided.
“What is she saying, boy?” Walter croaked.
He sat slumped next to Pappa, looking crumpled like a deflated balloon.
“If there’s any truth in what she’s saying, you can forget about inheriting the title. I will write you off.”
“Shut up, old man! Of course I did not kill Mama.”
A car pulled up outside and someone knocked on the door. It was Stan Miller.
“Just in time…”
“Look now, let’s talk about this. No need to get the cops involved.”
Atticus had begun to sweat.
Stan had probably come by on one of his routine visits. But Atticus didn’t know that. Stan pulled out a couple of pages from a folder.
“Atticus Brown, are you familiar with this paper?”
“That’s that recycled paper my Dot brought over,” Walter spoke up.
“Atticus, have you seen this paper before?” Stan pressed on. “We can always take you to the station and you can talk there.”
Atticus nodded sullenly.
“Like he said. My Mama brought that paper from somewhere. It was in her desk.”
“Have you used it before?”
Atticus barely nodded, looking at the floor.
“So you wrote those nasty letters, hunh?”
Atticus squirmed.
“I wouldn’t call them nasty.”
I flew out of Sally’s grasp and roared at him.
“So what would you call them? Love letters?”
Tony pushed me down, and I landed back on the couch with a thud.
“It was just a bit of fun.”
“Fun?” Stan asked softly.
“Yeah,” Atticus raised his voice again. “Just a bit of fun. No harm no foul right?”
“Do have any idea…” I began again.
Tony shushed me up.
Stan looked at Atticus.
“How much money did you earn off them? Was it the same standard payment for everyone? Or did you change it depending on how deep their pockets were?”
“What money are you talking about?” Atticus looked scared for the first time.
“Why, the blackmail money of course,” Stan told him. “You did threaten to reveal people’s secrets. What was the price you charged for keeping quiet?”