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  “I hope so,” I said. “May I go now?”

  He backed up a step and gestured that I could pull away, saying, “I appreciate your patience.”

  “And I appreciate your courtesy,” I replied.

  I rolled up the car window, started the engine, and pulled into the street, my attention riveted on the road in front of me. It wasn’t until I turned the corner that I let out a deep breath and then shivered as the tension drained away. I could feel a cold damp patch under each arm and I knew the flop sweat would be scented with anxiety.

  I reached the office, ready for some peace and quiet so I could compose myself. As I pulled into the drive, I saw Detective Nash sitting in his parked car. He spotted me, and by the time I emerged from my car, he was getting out of his.

  I paused. “Didn’t I just talk to you?”

  “Something’s come up.”

  “I’m having a hard day. I don’t suppose it can wait.”

  “Could, but I was in the neighborhood.”

  I unlocked the office door and left it ajar, resigned to his following. No need to invite him in when he was intent on tagging after me. I dropped my shoulder bag on the floor behind my desk and settled in my swivel chair. He took a seat in the same guest chair he’d occupied before.

  “Fire away,” I said.

  “I had a conversation with Ari Xanakis.”

  “How did that come to pass? Did you call him or did he call you?”

  “I confess I called him. Ordinarily, I’d keep my nose out of it. His relationship with Teddy is his to deal with, but given their rancorous history, I thought he should be aware of that business in Beverly Hills. If she’s cooking up trouble for him, he should be forewarned. I gave him the broad strokes and he said he’d prefer hearing the story from you.”

  “I’d have to think about that. I’m not opposed to lousing up Teddy’s life, but I don’t want to get caught in the middle of their hostilities. From what I’ve heard, the two have been battling for years and this is just more of the same,” I said.

  “That about sums it up.”

  “What have you told him? Does he know about the marked bills?”

  “I gave him a quick sketch of the situation. I was reluctant to brief him on an ongoing investigation, but I didn’t think I had much choice. I didn’t want to put you in the position of having to lie if he asked. I told him you did a job for her and that’s how the two bills came to our attention.”

  “Speaking of which, I’m still out a hundred bucks on that score.”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about that.”

  “So what does Ari want from me?”

  “He understands it was your detective work that put Teddy in touch with Satterfield. He’d like to hear your assessment.”

  “My assessment? I met the woman once and everything she told me was a lie. I know what I saw, but I can’t begin to guess what she’s up to. Why doesn’t he ask her?”

  “Asking is usually a bad move where Teddy’s concerned. If she’s scamming him, she’s not going to ’fess up.”

  “I’ll talk to him. Once. And let’s hope that’s the end of it.”

  “Thanks. I owe you one. I’ll get back to you.”

  30

  Tuesday morning, as I was leaving the studio, I found Henry poised on my doorstep, his hand raised as though to knock. I could see his station wagon idling in the driveway. Edna was standing on the far side wearing a black winter coat and a jaunty red knit hat, her pocketbook clasped in front of her like a brown bag lunch.

  Henry said, “I’m so glad you’re here. I was worried you’d be gone by now.”

  “Late start this morning. Where are you off to?”

  “Edna has a dentist’s appointment. I’m tied up with my accountant this afternoon, but in the meantime, I volunteered to ferry her to and from. Someone was supposed to stay with Joseph, but the woman called just now and said she was coming down with a cold and didn’t think she should expose either one of them. Could you keep an eye on him?”

  I flicked a look at Edna, whose interest in our conversation was sufficient to persuade me the plan was hers. No one had agreed to “mind” Joseph. Edna was making that up. She’d left arrangements until the last minute, counting on Henry to press me into service. She knew for a fact I wouldn’t have stepped in on her account. She also knew I couldn’t refuse Henry’s asking me to do anything. We exchanged a look. A sly smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

  “My alarm system goes in today and I have to be there. How long will this take?”

  “An hour and a half. Mr. McClaskey’s due shortly to inspect for leaks, so I’d appreciate your leaving your studio unlocked.”

  “I can do that.”

  Next thing I knew, Henry was pulling out of the drive with Edna seated placidly beside him and I had no choice but to trot next door as agreed. I knocked twice as a courtesy, then opened the door a crack and put my head in. With Joseph in a wheelchair, it seemed inconsiderate to make him push himself through the house to let me in.

  “Hello?” I stepped into the living room and closed the door behind me. “Mr. Shallenbarger?”

  A massive television set dominated one end of the living room, currently tuned to a vintage Western filled with cowboys who looked like they were wearing lipstick. Sound thundered—blazing guns and horses’ hooves. I could hear water running in the next room.

  I raised my voice. “Mr. Shallenbarger? It’s Kinsey from next door.”

  “In here,” he called.

  This was the first time I’d been in the house. The Adelsons owned the property long before I moved into Henry’s studio. For years, Dale Adelson taught English literature at UCST. The previous summer, he’d taken a job at the University of Virginia in Richmond. The move had delighted the couple because her family lived in the area and they looked forward to the proximity. Meanwhile, the house had been on the market and sitting empty until the Shallenbargers bought it and moved in.

  The place looked cluttered despite the fact that the furnishings were sparse. Sealed U-Haul boxes were still lined up along the walls. A big rag rug sat in the middle of the room, one of those soiled flat braided ovals you sometimes see abandoned at the curb. I’d always heard that for those in wheelchairs, carpeting and stairs were frustrating obstacles, best avoided where possible. I crossed to the kitchen and peered in.

  Joseph had his back to me. It was the first time I understood how heavy he was. He’d pulled his wheelchair close to the sink, where he was washing dishes by hand. The faucet gushed noisily. Henry would have flinched to see water run at that rate, but Joseph seemed oblivious. A small plastic wash bin had been placed in the sink and it was piled high with dirty pots and pans on top of glasses and plates. The counters and sink were at an appropriate height for most adults, but at a level that created difficulties for him since his chair was uncomfortably low. He looked like a little kid seated at a dinner table. He could barely see what he was doing, and in the process of moving dishes from the rinse water to the rack, he’d trailed water on the floor and across his lap.

  “Why don’t you let me do that?” I said.

  “I can manage.”

  I moved to the sink and turned the water off. “I’ll just take a quick turn as long as I’m here,” I said. “You go watch the movie. The good part’s coming up.”

  “Well. You sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. It won’t take me long.”

  He rolled himself away from the sink and did a three-point turn. Over his shoulder, he said, “That too loud for you?”

  “A bit.”

  He wheeled himself toward the door to the living room. The frame was narrow and the wooden threshold between the two rooms was another impediment. I crossed, took the wheelchair handles, and gave him a sufficient push to bump him over it. I waited to see what he’d do about the rag rug
and noted that he rolled right over it.

  He’d left the remote control on a small table near the end of the couch. He picked it up and aimed it at the set. He pushed the volume button repeatedly to no effect. He banged the remote against his palm without persuading it to work. “Batteries is wearing down,” he said irritably.

  “You have fresh ones?”

  “Maybe in the bedroom. Edna would know. You can turn the volume down at the set if you want.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine,” I replied.

  I returned to the sink and stared at the daunting accumulation of cookware. I decided I’d start from scratch. I removed pots and pans from the hillock and set them to one side so I could get to the plates and cutlery at the bottom of the heap. Through the kitchen window, I could see the back deck, which extended along the width of the house. Edna had managed to scrape and sand chipped white paint from a short stretch of wooden handrail. I was guessing she wouldn’t finish the job unless Henry and I pitched in. I would have vowed not to participate, but I knew she’d con Henry into helping and I’d end up volunteering my services on his behalf.

  I tilted the plastic bin and emptied the soapy water, which by now had been reduced to a cold murky lake. I far preferred washing dishes to chitchatting with the old man. With the sound from the television set still blaring, I had no trouble following the action, right down to chairs scraping the saloon floor as the villain leaped to his feet, his six-shooter drawn.

  China and glasses didn’t take long, but I realized I’d have to dry them to make room for the cookware. The only dish towel in sight was damp. I tried a few drawers randomly and finally crossed to the doorway to ask Joseph where the clean linens were kept.

  His wheelchair was empty and there was no sign of him. I peered to my left, where I could see the transverse hallway that led to the bedrooms and the adjoining bath. Where had the man gone? I padded across the living room and checked the hall in both directions. Joseph was in the bedroom to my right, standing in front of the chest of drawers while he struggled with the seal on a package of double-A batteries. He picked at the wrapping and finally nipped a tiny hole in the cellophane. He extracted two batteries and tossed the package back in the drawer.

  I retreated in haste, and by the time he returned to the living room, I’d completed the four giant steps to the kitchen. I picked up the damp towel and swiped at a plate, trying to decide what to make of it. Neither he nor Edna had ever actually said he was completely disabled, but that was the impression I’d been given. I’d assumed he wasn’t ambulatory, but this wasn’t the case. I tucked the information away, thinking it was good he wasn’t quite as helpless as I’d imagined. Also thinking I’d keep the discovery to myself.

  There was a long pause. I allowed time for him to arrange himself in his wheelchair and replace the batteries in the remote. The volume diminished dramatically, and shortly afterward, he rolled into view.

  I turned. “You found the batteries?”

  “Drawer in the side table by the couch,” he said. “How’re you doing?”

  “I could use a dry towel.”

  “Basket in the pantry,” he said, waving in that direction.

  I waited, expecting him to return to the living room, but he kept his attention fixed on me. This created an irresistible urge on my part to make nice.

  I flicked a look at my watch. It was 8:03. “What time do you think she’ll be home?”

  “Depends on how long she has to sit there.”

  “I thought she had an appointment. Isn’t she having her teeth cleaned?” I asked, thinking what the hell else would you be doing in a dentist’s chair at 8:00 A.M.?

  “Naw. This’s an emergency. She has to have a crown replaced. She said if she called first, the lady at the desk would make her wait two, three weeks. She goes in, they’ll make sure the dentist sees her right away so it won’t look bad to the other patients.”

  “Doesn’t a crown take hours?”

  “Oh, I imagine she’ll be back by noon,” he remarked. “If not, she said to ask if you’d fix me lunch.”

  An involuntary sound escaped my lips.

  He rolled himself away. “I better let you get back to work. I don’t want to slow you down.”

  I finished the dishes, brooding darkly. I’d just wandered back into the living room when I caught a glimpse of the plumber’s truck pulling into Henry’s drive. “The plumber’s here and I have to run next door. Henry gave strict instructions to let him in the minute he arrived. Will you be all right? It shouldn’t take long.”

  He waved me off. “I’m fine.”

  I found Mr. McClaskey standing at my front door. He lifted the brown gimme cap as soon as I appeared. “Morning.”

  “Hey, Mr. McClaskey. Henry’s off running an errand and I’m babysitting the guy next door, but both our doors are unlocked and you can let yourself in. You’re looking for leaks?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Starting with the commodes. Mr. Pitts says he has no complaints, but it never hurts to check.”

  “I have two toilets—one up and one down—and neither seems to be running.”

  “Good to hear. Comes to a leaky toilet, you got a couple ways to go. Failing flapper, plunger ball, float ball, or fill valve. You hear hissing or a trickling sound, it’s a good bet that’s where your problem lies.”

  “I hope you’ll find a problem for my sake. Every time the meter goes up, he looks at me like I did it.”

  “If he’s losing water, it’s most likely the irrigation system. Also possible the leak’s in your service lateral, which is the underground pipe runs between the house and the meter out there. He says his is right there along the property line. Easier to get to before he put in that two-car garage. Once I find the shut-off valve, if the meter’s still running, means you got a problem somewhere between the two. Valve itself could have a leak; common with these older bronze gate valves.”

  “Sounds like an expensive repair.”

  “Can be. Most of those old galvanized iron pipes are sixty, seventy years old. You get a break, it’s costly to locate and even worse to replace. Sewer or water lines break on a homeowner’s property, it’s up to the homeowner to remedy the problem. It’s more like I do the fixing and the homeowner pays. Any rate, possible I won’t finish my inspection today, but I’ll be back first chance I get.”

  31

  Henry didn’t return with Edna until twenty minutes after one. I had to call the alarm company to push back the technician’s arrival by two hours, but I was at the office in time to let him in. I left him to go about his business with his drill, his ladder, and the wiring he had to run. He said he’d mount a panel near the front door and a second one in the kitchenette, assuring me he’d give me a quick lesson in its use when it was done. I found it distracting to have someone going in and out, but he was cheerful and he seemed efficient. The locksmith arrived shortly thereafter and changed the locks on both doors.

  Cullen had been on the premises less than an hour when he paused to have a word. “Your friend’s here.”

  “My friend?”

  He pointed to the window behind me. “She pulled up a few minutes ago and she’s been checking the front door, so I figured she was waiting to pick you up. You want, I can tell her you’re on your way.”

  I turned in my swivel chair and looked out. A silver-gray sedan was parked at the curb with a woman at the wheel. I didn’t recognize the car. She’d parked on the near side of the street instead of the far side, so I couldn’t see her well enough to determine if she was someone I knew. Cullen was correct about her interest. She leaned forward and studied the front of the bungalow. All I saw was long, dark hair. April? I sat for a moment more and finally got up. “I’ll go see what she wants.”

  I went down the walk, and as I approached the car, she lowered the window on the passenger side. I leaned forward and rested my hands on th
e open window. “You’re April.”

  “I am, and I came to apologize for yesterday. I had no idea my dad would call the sheriff’s department.”

  Up close, I could see what a sweet face she had: large brown eyes, a hesitant smile. A swathe of freckles lay across her nose and fanned out over her cheeks. She’d had to slide her seat back to accommodate her belly.

  “That was irksome, but no harm done,” I said. “You want to come in?”

  “Would it be all right if we talked out here? I’ve been watching those guys go in and out and I’d prefer privacy.”

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  “You gave your name on the phone. You also said you were a private investigator, so I looked you up in the yellow pages. I would have called, but I was afraid you wouldn’t talk to me.”

  “Does your father know you’re here?”

  She laughed. “I hope not. Is this a good time to talk? I don’t want to interrupt if you’re in the middle of something.”

  “This is fine. Why don’t you give me a minute and I’ll bring out the mailing pouch?”

  “Thank you. I’d be grateful.”

  I returned to my office. The technician was somewhere in the back of the bungalow, whistling as he worked. I pulled the carpet aside, dialed the combination to the safe, and opened it. I retrieved the mailing pouch and then went through the reverse of the operation, closing the safe again and rolling the carpet into place.

  By the time I reached April’s car the second time, she had opened the door on the passenger side, allowing me to slide right in. Before I could give her the mailer, she held up a hand.

  “Let me say this first. I should have known better than to call my dad. He’s touchy where my mother’s concerned. I’m really sorry.”

  “You had a right to be suspicious. We’ve all heard about scams that target the bereaved,” I said. “Usually not twenty-eight years after the fact, but there you have it.”