10 Tahoe Trap (25 page)

“Let me guess. A fruit, not a vegetable.”

“Yeah. Go down to the lake.” Paco pointed, showed me where to turn at the end, pointed out the house.

I pulled into the drive and parked. “You should come with me to the door,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because you’re my credibility. They know you, right?”

“Not really,” Paco said.

“But they’ve seen you.”

“Yeah.”

“Then they’ll be more likely to talk to me. Your presence will give them comfort.”

Paco thought about it, then opened his door and got out. We left Spot crammed in the back seat and walked to the front door. I rang the bell. Chimes sounded far off.

Paco pointed at the lock. “Cassie has a key. We just go into the kitchen.”

I nodded.

The door opened. A woman wearing a smock and holding a rag and bottle of Windex said, “May I help you?” Then she saw Paco.

“Paco! What are you doing here?”

“Hi, my name is Owen McKenna. I’m a local investigator.” I handed her my card. “I’m here with Paco because we have bad news. I’m sorry to tell you that Cassie Moreno, your Field To Fridge woman, was murdered three days ago.”

The woman immediately paled, hugged herself, and looked horrified. “Paco! I’m so sorry!” She bent down and hugged him. He didn’t move as he was engulfed by her embrace.

The woman looked at me. She stuttered, “Wh... Wh... What can I do to help?”

“You work for Rob Tentor?”

“Yes, I’m his hou...housekeeper. Bridgett Jordan.”

“Is Mr. Tentor home?”

“No, he’s in Spain. He won’t be back for two weeks.” As she said it, I understood how easily Cassie was enticed into forwarding travel information that people gave freely.

“When did Mr. Tentor leave here?” I asked.

“A week ago last Tuesday.”

“We believe that Cassie’s murder may have something to do with her Field To Fridge business.”

The woman’s look turned to fear. “I... I... I can’t believe that. We all love her. She’s a dear friend. She feeds us.”

“Were Cassie’s arrangements with Mr. Tentor primarily handled by him? Or did you make the arrangements?”

“Well, Mr. Tentor first called her after Mrs. Swanson told him about Cassie. But after the first visit, I was the one who dealt with Cassie.”

“What was involved in your dealings?”

“Nn...Nn...Not a lot. Mr. Tentor was on her ‘Just The Basics’ plan. Every week she showed up with tomatoes and peppers and persimmons, broccoli, asparagus and spinach. The fruit was usually bananas, apples, and oranges. Now and then she would add other produce. She used her judgment on what was tastiest in any given season.”

“Did Mr. Tentor get along well with Cassie?”

“Oh, he loved her. I mean, he loved her service. He rarely ever saw her. But he was very taken with the whole concept. I loved what she did, too.”

“Any disagreements or tension?”

The woman shook her head.

“What about her as a person? Did you and Mr. Tentor find her to be as personally agreeable as her business service was?”

Bridgett frowned. “Well, I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“Did you like Cassie?”

“Y... Y... Yes. Ab... Ab... Absolutely. She maybe wasn’t super chatty and friendly. Just real business-like. She did a great job.”

“How often did you talk to her?”

“Once a week when she came. That’s all.”

“Did Mr. Tentor see her each week?”

“N... Not most weeks. Cassie comes early. Mr. Tentor is usually still in bed.”

“Who paid Cassie’s bill?”

“I did. Every four weeks, she would bring an invoice, and I’d write her a check out of the household account.”

“Was Cassie’s weekly visit your only contact with her?”

“Of course. She lived down in the Central Valley. Where else would I have contact with her?”

“Where do you live?”

“Carson City,” she said.

“Did you ever tell Cassie about Rob Tentor’s travel plans?”

She frowned. “No. Why would I do that?”

“Maybe she just asked you casually. Something like, ‘So where is Mr. Tentor these days?’ Like that.”

“I c... can’t ever think of any time we talked about such a thing.”

“You’re sure.”

“Of course, I’m sure,” she said in an irritated voice.

“Tell me,” I paused, “did you consider the amount that Cassie charged a fair price for her product and service?”

“W... Well, I d... don’t know that I could judge that.”

“Why not? You buy fruits and vegetables in the store, right? If you add a delivery fee, and add for Cassie’s time, did the result seem appropriate to you?”

Bridgett Jordan paused. “I may just as well tell you the truth, Mr. McKenna. Cassie’s p... produce was probably the most expensive in the world. Many times I’ve wondered why I didn’t think of such a business. I mean, how hard can it be? You go and buy some nice veggies and deliver them in a nice-looking basket. Then you charge ten times what they cost. It was a real racket, this business of Cassie’s.” Bridgett stopped abruptly as she realized that her voice had gotten an edge to it.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, her voice softer. “Mr. Tentor loves the service. He’ll be d... dismayed to hear that Cassie is gone.”

“And you?” I said. “Are you dismayed?” It was a pointed question to which I expected an angry, defensive response.

Instead, Bridgett said, “Yes,” her voice quiet. “I’m very dismayed.”

I pointed at the card in her hand. “If you hear of anything that might be useful in our investigation, please give me a call.”

She nodded, and began to close the door. Then she opened it and spoke to Paco. “I’m s... so sorry, Paco.” She gave him another hug.

We left.

Back in Street’s Beetle, I started a new list.

1) Rob Tentor – Nasa inventor – Out of town. Housekeeper Bridgett Jordan was Cassie’s main contact. Envious of Cassie’s business success. No travel discussed.

The next person up the East Shore was romance novelist Jayleen Swanson, the Mrs. Swanson who Bridgett said first told Tentor about Cassie’s business.

Jayleen Swanson lived in Uppaway, the exclusive gated community just south of Glenbrook. I pulled up to the gate, punched Swanson onto the keypad and the machine dialed her phone. After five rings, her answering machine picked up.

At the tone, I said, “Hi, my name is Detective Owen McKenna. I have important information about Cassie Moreno, the owner of Field To Fridge. Please give me a call at your convenience.” I left my number and was about to push the disconnect button when I stopped. I added, “If you prefer, you can call Commander Mallory of the South Lake Tahoe Police Department. Thank you for your time.”

As before, Paco said, “Cassie knows the code. We just go in.”

“No doubt,” I said.

I updated my list.

2) Jayleen Swanson – Romance novelist – Unavailable.

The third person on my counter-clockwise trip around the lake was the ball player for the Oakland As. He lived in Glenbrook, just north of the Uppaway entrance. I drove to the Glenbrook gatehouse. The woman on gate duty gave me a stern look. With a Great Dane stuffed into the back of a little Beetle, I was clearly not someone she recognized. She probably spent a good part of every day asking house gawkers to turn around and leave.

I pulled close to her open window and gave her the name of the ball player and explained who I was.

“He’s a famous ball player,” she said. “Not like he’s sitting around at home waiting for visitors.”

“Can you try him, please?”

She frowned, reached for the phone, and punched in a speed-dial code.

After what couldn’t have been more than two rings, she hung up and said, “I’m sorry, he doesn’t appear to be home.” Then she noticed Paco sitting beside me. She leaned forward to get a better look at him. It was obvious that she recognized him.

“Are you sure you let it ring enough?” I said. “Maybe he’s in the shower.”

She hesitated, thinking. “He’s got it set on auto. So I know he’s gone.”

Maybe it was true. And if not, there wasn’t much I could do.

“Can I leave him a message? Even a famous ballplayer will think it’s important.”

“If it’s important, you should email him. That way you know he’ll get it.” She made a flat, little grin, no doubt knowing that I didn’t have his email.

I thanked her and turned around. I stopped before pulling back onto the highway.

3) Ball Player – Unavailable.

As we drove away I said, “She just lets Cassie drive right in?”

Paco nodded.

Our next three on the list were all in Incline Village, on Lakeshore Boulevard, vacation home central for Bay Area tycoons.

We drove up the East Shore and turned off on the grand route that on more than one occasion has been written up in the Wall Street Journal for having the most expensive home for sale in the country.

The first was the rock star, front man for a group that had sold 90 million albums in the last ten years.

Paco showed me which drive to pull into. I stopped at a huge gate. Behind the gate, the drive made a gentle S-curve through the trees and went out of sight. The lakeshore house was not visible from the entrance.

To the left side of the gate stood a stone post with a doorbell at the right height to push from a tall SUV.

I looked at Paco. “How did Cassie get in?”

“She pushes the button. When the machine starts talking, she says, ‘it’s Cassie,’ and the gate opens.”

“You mean, it’s got voice-recognition software and it’s programmed to know her voice?”

Paco nodded.

I pushed the button.

“Hello,” came a pleasant robotic voice that had been programmed to sound very snooty, upper-crust British. “Thank you for calling. Unfortunately, the master is out, so please have your agent call our agent, and perhaps we can set up a meeting.”

Just before it could say ‘Goodbye,’ I spoke in a high voice, “It’s Cassie.”

But the ‘Goodbye’ came, and the gate didn’t open.

4) Rock Star – Unavailable.

TWENTY-EIGHT

The fifth person on Cassie’s list was Mike Kalili, the producer of documentaries. Because the name Kalili sounded Hawaiian, I had an unreasonable picture in my mind of a beautiful tropical beach with a sprawling spread of thatched-roofed buildings.

Paco showed me the drive three blocks down. This house was not on the lake, or what Hawaiians call the makai or ocean side of the road, but was instead on the mountain side of Lakeshore Boulevard, the mauka side of the road. Instead of a tropical design, the Kalili residence was a simple unfenced, timber-frame cabin of maybe 8000 square feet. We pulled in under the portico. As Paco and I walked up to the five-foot-wide door, it occurred to me that no mere documentary filmmaker would earn enough for such a crash pad. There must be something else adding to the income stream.

Another woman answered the door, this one dressed in a suit and looking very trim for her sixty years. “Paco!” she said, clearly glad to see him. “What a surprise. This isn’t your delivery day, and,” she turned to me, “this isn’t Cassie.”

I gave her the same introduction and the same explanation of Cassie’s death that I’d given Bridgett. The woman in the doorway gave me the same reaction that Bridgett had given me but without the stutter.

“I’m so sorry! I’m Mrs. Kalili, Mike’s mother. Mike is busy right now.”

I asked some of my questions about Cassie and her business. The woman had no useful information.

“Were there times when Mike was gone and you saw Cassie during her delivery?”

“Yes, a few. I remember having some conversations with her.”

“What did you talk about?”

“I have no idea. Vegetables, I suppose,” she said.

“Cassie was involved in a travel project,” I said. “Those times when Mike was gone, do you recall ever talking with Cassie about Mike’s travel plans?”

“Again, I don’t remember. But it’s not like he was protective of information about his whereabouts. With Mike, everything is pretty much public. Not that I approve. Things that I think should be private, he puts on his website. And on his Facebook page. So there’s not much that I could reveal about Mike that he doesn’t reveal himself.”

“You said that Mike is busy, but would you consider asking him if he will see me?”

“Mike is in his editing room. I normally hate to interrupt him, but let me go ask. Please give me a minute.”

She left us standing in the large entry. Paco sat down on a long leather seat that was built into one wall.

“You’ve met Mike Kalili?” I said.

Paco nodded. He pointed over toward the dining room. “That’s one of our baskets.”

On the dining table was a large basket filled with gorgeous red tomatoes and green peppers and orange peppers and yellow apples. The colors were so intense, they shimmered. I walked over to admire it.