Oh no. I'd gone and broken a commandment.
"Jinxed."
"Tam!"
"Oh, all right. It's a coincidence," she said, clearly not believing it.
Time to change the subject, before Tam had a real estate agent at my door and my house on the market. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm bored to death," she said. "I'm missing TBS. Someone is keeping your desk orderly and stocking the fridge, right?"
I had no idea. "Yeah."
"Are you lying to me?"
"I'd never."
She sighed. "It's lonely out here. The hospital was much more fun. People always dropping by. Thanks for sending your mom, by the way. She's a blast."
I did have a pretty good mom, on the whole. "I'm glad I could share."
"How's Ursula doing?"
"BeBe likes her."
"BeBe likes everyone."
"She's fine," I said. "She'll do until you get back."
"Aww. I just got warm and fuzzied."
"How bored are you?" I asked.
"I just finished alphabetizing the spice rack. Why do you ask? Do you have something you need me to do?"
The eagerness in her voice made me smile. "I might." I explained about the accounting books.
"I'm your girl. Bring them by."
"You sure you're up to it?"
"Nina, don't make me beg."
"All right. Let me check on Riley and I'll be up, and I can stay for a while." I hated thinking Tam was lonely.
"Is he working, by any chance?" she asked.
"No, why?"
"I'm craving something earthy. Growl does a great earthy."
"Yuck!"
"Don't knock it till you try it."
"How about I stop there and bring you something. What do you want?"
"Surprise me. But nothing that's going to kill me."
"I didn't kill those people! Besides, if I were jinxed, you'd be long gone by now."
"True enough. All right. Thanks. Hospital food isn't my favorite."
Really, it was the least I could do. I just hoped Tam could shed some light on Growl's finances, and if they could possibly be a motive for murder.
Twenty-Three
By Wednesday afternoon I hadn't heard from Tam. I'd left her the night before with the books, a large bowl of Asparagus Delight, and a Dandelion Fritter.
I spun in my swivel chair and looked out the window behind my desk onto the garden showcase beyond. Despite the beauty of the cottage garden and the water garden, my gaze always went to the xeric garden. I zeroed in on a yucca as I thought about Greta and Russ, Bill and Lindsey, and Growl. From the get-go, a partnership between two complete polar opposites seemed doomed. Then why go into it?
What had they each gotten out of it?
Russ got the restaurant he'd always wanted.
And Bill? What had he been in it for? Money?
I spun back to my desk, looked at the design for the hummingbird garden. I'd spent most of the morning surfing the Net for just the right accessories. I'd printed out pictures and was doing my best to replicate them onto the design board, using paints.
Little tubes of water colors covered my desk, and I used a paper plate as a palate. I mixed yellow, orange, and brown until I came up with an acceptable bronze color.
I glanced at the phone. I hadn't heard from Kevin.
Or Bobby, for that matter.
When would I stop lumping the two of them together?
By the time I looked up from painting, it was four-thirty. Riley had to be at work at five.
I cleaned up, made sure everything was ready for the morning, and said good-bye to Brickhouse, the only one left in the office.
I hated to say it, but she was an excellent temp. She'd even managed to get Jean-Claude in on time that morning. How, I had no idea.
Riley was pacing the front porch when I pulled in. He jumped in the car before I even came to a complete stop.
"Sorry I'm late," I said.
"You're not."
"Not what?"
"Late."
I must have looked confused because he said, "I told you I had to be at work at five, but it's actually five-thirty. That way I'd get to work on time. For a change."
"That's sneaky."
"It worked."
I didn't want to know how long he'd been playing that game with me.
I pulled into Growl's parking lot and was surprised to see the Beast, aka Mr. Cabrera's 1970 Pontiac LeMans, parked there until I remembered Mr. Cabrera and Boom-Boom had made plans to stop by.
Riley jumped out of the truck before it came to a stop, and I turned off the engine and double-checked to make sure I had Bill's letters. It was time to put them back.
Tempting aromas of garlic and thyme welcomed me in. And I was tempted. But not crazy, so I didn't buy anything.
Mr. Cabrera and Boom-Boom, however, were in line, ordering from none other than Goosh himself.
Boom-Boom was saying, "I'll have the turkey burger with lots of mushies. I just love mushies. Don't you?" she asked Mr. Cabrera.
"No," he said. "I hate mushrooms."
He wore a light green shirt covered in mallard ducks and denim cargo shorts. His tone told me that Boom-Boom was wearing on his patience.
I said hello while I scoped out the place. So far, no sign of Bill.
Mr. Cabrera turned to me. "You gonna eat, Miz Quinn?"
I wondered what Mrs. Krauss thought of him saying things like "gonna." How those two got along, I'd never know.
"No, not my style."
He smiled. "No chocolate."
He knew me well.
"I'm just dropping off Riley. Thought I'd, uh, use the ladies' room."
I could feel the sharp corner from an envelope scratching my spine. I'd shoved the letters in my waistband.
Mr. Cabrera gave me an odd look.
Okay, it might have been Too Much Information.
"Donnie, dear. Pay the boy," Boom-Boom trilled (I swear she did), while tugging on Mr. Cabrera's sleeve.
"Donnie?" I asked.
"Don't say nothin'," he grumped.
I smiled.
"And stop smilin'! Don't you have a bathroom to go to?"
"All right, all right. Testy."
I inched away, making sure the coast was clear, and saw Riley coming down the hall, his name tag on. He must've just punched in.
He caught sight of me lurking. "No," he said.
"What? I just need to use the restroom."
"There's peo—"
Mr. Cabrera's shouts cut him off. "What kind of scam are you runnin'?"
Riley and I both rushed back to the dining area. Mr. Cabrera saw us and said, "Trying to charge me fifty bucks for two sandwiches."
Boom-Boom's eyes were wide, her hand on her heaving chest. "Donnie, maybe you misunderstood."
We all looked at Goosh. Red-faced, he said, "Fifteen?"
"No, no," Riley said. "It's on me. My treat, remember?"
"What a sweet boy you are," Boom-Boom twittered.
Mr. Cabrera still looked ready to jump over the counter and do Goosh harm. "The boy's not right," he said under his breath to me.
He wasn't. Wide pupils, scattered thoughts, herky-jerky movements. Where was Bill? Couldn't he see that his head cashier was on something?
Goosh said to Riley, "Dude, you sure?"
"Yeah, of course."
While Riley dealt with the mess at the counter, I moseyed down the hall. After checking to make sure it was clear, I dashed into Bill's office.
A third barrel of mushrooms had appeared sometime during the last two days, which meant there was nowhere to hide if I needed to.
Working fast, I put the envelopes back where they belonged.
My palms sweated, my heart rate tripled. I fumbled a lot.
I closed the closet door, ran to the office door, poked my head out. I heard voices. Male ones. Coming my way.
I jumped into motion, slamming through the swinging door. I pushed open the ladi
es' room door just as the swinging door revealed Bill and two suited men entering his office.
Letting out a deep breath, I couldn't help but notice how close that had been.
After a second I opened the door, peered out. No one was coming.
I edged down the hall, nudged the swinging door a smidge so I could hear what was going on in Bill's office.
From what drifted out, the men were with the prosecutor's office, asking questions about Russ's death.
Great. Was I next on their list?
"Hearing something good, Miss Marple?" someone asked, his breath tickling my ear.
By the drop of my stomach, I knew that someone.
"You shouldn't sneak up on people!" I said under my breath.
Kevin pulled me down the hallway. "You shouldn't eavesdrop."
"I wasn't eavesdropping."
"Then what were you doing?"
"Um, looking for the ladies' room?"
He bypassed the dining room, put his hand on my back and steered me outside.
"Care to explain?" he asked. It was a cloudless day. The sun made his green eyes sparkle. Or maybe that was his anger.
"Not really."
"Nina . . ." he warned.
I explained. All about the blackmail letters, how they ruled out my theory that Bill and Lindsey had wanted Russ dead.
"I was going to tell you about them," I said.
"When?"
"After I put them back in Bill's office."
"Nina . . ."
"What? I found them by accident."
"Where?"
"Um, in his closet?"
"Are you asking me?"
"In his closet, okay?"
"Not okay. You've got to stop getting involved like this."
"I didn't mean to get involved!"
"You never do."
"What are you doing here, anyway?"
He looked like he knew why I was changing the subject, and appeared as though he was about to argue, but sighed and said, "Thought I'd stop in and see Riley. And remind him that he's at my place this weekend."
His place. Not his and Ginger's place.
Funny how saying that didn't bother me as much as it used to.
I guessed it was true, that time healed all things.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Then why the pained face?"
"Cliché," I said.
He shook his head, grinned. "I'll never understand you."
"It's not your job anymore."
"And whose is it? Bobby's?"
Dangerous territory. "Maybe," I ventured.
"Look, I know I blew things with us."
I nodded.
"You don't have to agree so readily."
"Okay." I paused a few beats, then nodded.
"Better. Listen, Nina. I just want you to be happy."
This conversation was surreal.
Approaching footsteps caught our attention. Noreen.
"What're you doing here?" I asked.
Red-rimmed bloodshot eyes matched her glasses. "Bill called. Something about the prosecutor's office." She looked at Kevin. "Know anything about that?"
He shook his head.
He lied as well as I did. Scary.
Of course, I'd already known how well he lied.
I put my arm around Noreen. Grief surrounded her like Pigpen's cloud of dirt.
"Will you be okay?"
"Fine," she said, her upper lip trembling. "Sorry I didn't call you back, Nina. I've been—"
"It's okay."
"What did you have to ask me?"
I shot a look to Kevin. He folded his arms across his chest.
"Nothing that can't wait," I said.
"I'd really like to know too," Kevin said.
The two of them stared at me. "All right. I was wondering if Greta was the person who kept Growl's books."
Noreen nodded. "Russ was too cheap to hire out, even though Greta told him he should. Technology's just come so far since she worked."
Kevin stared at me.
I smiled.
"Why?" Noreen asked. "Did Bill ask you to ask me? I told him those books weren't in the house."
Kevin's eyebrows dipped dangerously low.
"Um, no. Bill didn't ask me. I was just curious, is all."
"Oh." Noreen looked confused.
"Yeah, oh," Kevin said.
Noreen touched Kevin's arm. "Any news on Greta's death, Detective?"
His eyes softened. "Nothing official."
Noreen perked up. "But something."
His tone softened. "Preliminary reports show she was poisoned."
"By what?" I asked.
"Looks like something she ate."
Noreen paled. "Poisoned?" Tears welled in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Kevin said.
She nodded, pulled open Growl's door and disappeared inside.
"Autopsy results are being released to the media tomorrow."
"Any suspects?"
He arched an eyebrow. "Why don't you tell me? What's with the accounting question?"
"Nothing."
"Ever heard of obstruction?"
I shrugged. "I saw some accounting books in the Grabinsky house. Bill had been looking for them."
"When did you see them? When you found Greta?"
"No."
"No?"
"Before that. They weren't there the day I found Greta."
"You looked, then."
"I thought it odd that Bill wanted the books back so badly, that Russ even brought them home in the first place."
"What made you ask about Greta?"
How much did I want to tell him? All. All of it. I didn't want to carry the weight of this around with me. I explained about Dale Hathaway and the blackmail. About Bill and the blackmail. About the one person who had the most to lose.
"Greta," he said.
"Exactly."
I could see him turning over the situation in his mind. "Yet she's dead."
"Exactly."
"I need those blackmail letters."
"You'd have to ask Bill about that. Did you talk to Dale today? After I called you?"
"Yeah. Said he'd been blackmailed by Russ to drop the HOA lawsuit. He tried but wasn't successful. He thought bluffing with Greta about having it dropped would get his pictures back."
"Did he show you his letters?"
"Said he didn't have them anymore. Had thrown them away."
My eyebrow rose. I very much doubted that.
"Yeah," Kevin said, "I don't believe him either."
The door opened behind us. Bill escorted the two men from the prosecutor's office out of the restaurant. "Anything I can do, gentlemen," he said.
The two looked at Kevin, nodded in that way men do when they greet each other. Their attention turned to me for a brief moment, but they continued on to their black Ford Taurus.
I had the feeling I'd be seeing them again soon.
I still hadn't heard from Bobby's cousin Josh. I thought maybe I should put a call in.
Kevin pulled Bill aside, but the summer breeze carried their voices.
"I've become aware that you've been blackmailed. I need to see those letters, Bill."
Clearly shocked, Bill stammered. "How . . . ?"
"You don't need to know that. Why don't you show me where the letters are?"
Bill's shock turned into something else. For a second it looked like panic. "Now?"
"Why not?"
"I'm, uh . . . no."
"No?"
Bill pulled back his shoulders, lifted his chin. "You'll need a search warrant for that, Detective."