* * *
We were very busy the next week with yard clean-up, leaf removal, and multiple daily trips to the recycling yard. Hard freezes brought the leaves down, and it seemed that everyone wanted their yards done at the same time, so I added extra crew and we worked longer days. It was this way every year and, as we were prepared for it, I actually looked forward to the fall cleanup push, and I was pleased if it lasted for weeks. Work this time of year was very welcome; I felt like a squirrel putting away nuts for the winter.
Liz Burzachiello wanted to talk about the case, but when I explained what Henry Wade had said about confidential information, she understood we couldn’t discuss what he told me. She didn’t like it, but she understood. I felt I could tell her that some of the things that we had thought were going on were true, plus or minus a few particulars. I could fill her in on the all details when Henry Wade caught Barry Correda.
I felt that I could tell her that I’d made the decision that I was going to talk to Andrea Brubaker. From that first look at the IEREA website I knew that the next executive meeting was coming up in a week or two in Denver, the next city in the rotation. A subsequent look showed that Andrea Brubaker was on the program for the final Saturday night banquet. Now I was sure Andrea would be there, and I would somehow devise a way to talk with her.
“D you think she’ll tell the truth, for once?” Liz asked.
“I guess I’ll find out if she’ll talk at all,” I said as we finished loading the trailer. Wanda needed dumping at the recycle yard again before I could hurry home to finish making dinner for friends coming over that evening.
“So, you’re cooking tonight?” Liz asked.
“Grilling chicken thighs. Marinated them overnight in Thai ingredients. With papaya with a little squeeze of lime.” It felt good to be cooking again. I’d eaten up the frozen Texas chili and soups I’d prepared in advance for the long work days, and was ready for something new. “What are you all having?”
“Louie’s coming up from Denver, and Emma’s cooking tonight. She’s really good at making burgers!” said loyal Liz Burzachiello about the inexperienced cook. “Nico and Crisp are coming over, too, ‘cause they love Emma’s burgers! She’s got the time; she’s taking a couple of days off. I wish she’d just quit. Her job is driving her into the ground!”
“Sounds like it’s getting worse.”
“Yeah, I wish I could get her to come work with us for a couple of days. She’d see how it could be. Louie loved it the last time she worked with us. Do you still need her for the cleanup next week? Where are we going?”
“It’s a new client way out in the boonies, out in the mountains west of Bellvue. They got our name from the Finnigans, who nicely gave us a high recommendation. I talked to the guy last week, and he wants a cleanup of the whole property before they return from their trip. Guess they’ve been away for a long time, and there’s a lot to be done. We’ll need Louie.”
“She’ll be here. I’ll have to remind her about bringing a lunch. What day is it again?”
“A week from Monday, if the weather holds. The day after I plan to be in Denver talking to Andrea Brubaker at her conference. I’m sure after that little chat I’ll be more than ready to be outside working in reality!” I said. “Oh, and get this: when I was checking out the IEREA website to verify the meeting info, I saw that Andrea Brubaker is being presented with an award. An awards banquet is something they do every year at the fall meeting.”
“Oh, come on! For what? Ms. Most Money of the Universe? Jeez, she gives all the good realtors a bad name!” Liz protested, her hands rocking together in front of her before exploding apart on the last word. Even the way she hunched her shoulders showed disbelief.
“No, the Humanitarian Award of the Year. For her funding of Ayudar a los Oprimidos.”
Liz Burzachiello looked at me, speechless. I had planned to say something funny about the irony of Andrea Brubaker getting a humanitarian award, but it didn’t seem humorous anymore, or even fit for sarcasm.
All Liz Burzachiello could manage to get out was “Ack.” I agreed completely.