Tahoe Deathfall

Spot and I were waiting outside of Jennifer’s school at three o’clock. She came out and walked straight to her locked bicycle. I beeped the horn.

  Jennifer looked up and came running over to the Jeep. She grabbed Spot’s head and hugged him. “What a surprise!” Then she got serious. “Is everything all right?”

  “Sure. I just had a couple of questions. Give you a ride?”

  “I’d love it,” Jennifer said. She unlocked her bike and we put it on the roof rack. Jennifer sat sideways on the front passenger seat so she could reach back and pet Spot as we drove out of the school lot.

  “Your caretaker,” I said. “Did he ever have a girl­friend or speak of young women?”

  Jennifer laughed. “Sam? No. I mean, I think he’s heterosexual, but I can’t imagine him having a girlfriend. He’s too awkward and nervous.”

  “Did he ever mention someone named Maria?”

  “No. Sam was fiercely private. He interacted with us only enough to do his job. Who is Maria?”

  “Just a name someone mentioned in connection with Sam.”

  “The dead body!” Jennifer said. “The body that Street took samples from. That was Maria, wasn’t it!”

  I didn’t see any reason to withhold the answer. “There was a bracelet on the body with the name Maria engraved on it.”

  “Was there a last name? Maybe I’ve heard of her.”

  “No.”

  “If Maria’s name was connected to Sam and now she’s dead right when he’s disappeared, that makes it look like he killed her! And with Sam being strange around women...God, it all fits, doesn’t it!”

  “Jennifer, it is best not to jump to conclusions.”

  “I get it. We should focus on what we know rather than on what we can speculate about.”

  “I think you might be too smart for your own good,” I said.

  “I’ve been told that before. Sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about.”

  “Okay. Next question,” she said.

  “I need a boat,” I said. “I need to test something.”

  “You have a hypothesis about the murder?” Jenni­fer asked.

  “Street does,” I said. I thought about whether it made sense to tell her. Often I don’t divulge the details of my investigation to my client. It seemed especially inap­propriate with a kid who might be frightened by the information. But Jennifer was already frightened and, if she were lying to me, telling her where my investigation was going would be a good way to tempt her into a pro­test of sorts if she knew I should be looking another direc­tion.

  “Street’s hypothesis is that John Smithson pushed his wife off the rock slide to inherit her money. Your sister saw him do it, so he pushed her off, too. He realized that two bodies could only look like murder and not an acci­dent, so he climbed up the rock slide that night and retrieved his wife’s body. He carried it away by boat and faked her death up on Mount Rose. I’m wondering if such long hikes and the long round-trip boat ride would require more hours than an August night provides. If I rented one of your boats, I could test it.”

  “Of course!” Jennifer said. “But you won’t rent it. You and I will go together. We have two boats. An eigh­teen foot runabout with an outboard. And a thirty-two foot powerboat. It’s got a big inboard engine. It’s very fast. You could use either one.”

  “With Gramma’s permission? Or you could get her permission to take one of the boats out and then pick me up down the shore?”

  “Oh, to heck with Gramma. I’m tired of living under her control. I give you permission.”

  “If Gramma called the cops on me, I’m not sure the courts would agree,” I said. “They are no doubt techni­cally Gramma’s boats. I’d probably need Gramma’s tech­nical permission.”

  “Then I’ll buy a boat.”

  “They are expensive,” I said.

  “Four hundred million should give me some choices,” Jennifer said.

  “Good point. But maybe we can borrow Gramma’s anyway.”

  “When?” she said.

  “Whenever you think it would cause the least problems. When - dare I suggest it - Gramma might be somewhere else and not even know.”

  Jennifer excitedly slapped her hand on the car seat. “Tonight! Tonight would be perfect because Gramma goes to play bridge at Auntie Ethel’s.”

  “Auntie?”

  “She’s not really my aunt. But I’ve known her all my life and I’ve always called her Auntie Ethel. She always sends her driver to pick Gramma up on Friday nights. They play bridge and drink tea until around ten. By then we’ll be long gone.”

  “Won’t Gramma panic if she comes home to find you gone?”

  “She won’t know I’m gone. If my door is shut and my light is off, she’ll assume I’m asleep. I can even bunch up some clothes under my blanket so it’ll look like me in case she opens my door.”

  “Sounds too risky,” I said. “Better to go in broad daylight. Better to have Gramma know in advance.”

  “It’s not risky at all. It will work perfectly.”

  Jennifer said it with the marvelous conviction of youth.

  “Where will Helga be?”

  “Helga never leaves Gramma’s side.”

  “Gramma won’t check the boathouse when she gets home?” I asked.

  “No. I can set the alarm panel so it looks like the boathouse hasn’t been touched.”

  “How will we get the boat back in the boathouse late at night? Older folks don’t sleep soundly. Won’t the noise wake them up?”

  “No. We can turn off the boat motor when we get close. Then we paddle in. I can sneak into the house and you can run down the beach to the park where you’ll leave your car. Besides, Gramma always takes a Nembutal before bed. She loves her drugs because they make her sleep like a baby.”

  I thought about it as I drove. The gated Salazar driveway appeared on the left. I pulled off on the shoulder and parked. “It seems a big risk for you,” I said. “A bigger risk for me if I’m caught with a minor. They’d get me for kidnapping and boat theft.”

  “Remember the affidavit I wrote you,” Jennifer said. “If that doesn’t give you protection, I’ll hire the best lawyers in the country.”

  “You’ve got some of your grandmother’s fire in you. She threatened to run me out of town.”

  “She did?! Why that... You should have told me! That does it! I’ll call you at home this evening and tell you when to come. If Smithson is the man stalking me then I won’t let Gramma stand in the way of your investiga­tion!” Jennifer was indignant. She got out of the car. Her face was flushed. “Sometimes that old woman drives me nuts!”

  I got Jennifer’s bicycle off the roof rack. She rolled it through a tiny space next to the wrought iron gate. “I’ll call,” she called out to me as she climbed on her bicycle and began to ride down the drive.

  “You will not!” a loud voice answered from nearby.

  Jennifer was so startled that she jerked to a stop and nearly fell off her bike.

  We both turned to see Gramma Salazar step out from behind a tree.

  SEVENTEEN