7 Madness in Miniature (17 page)

“Why do the police think you did, Leo?”

He hung his head, slumping down again. “It was my stationery. The notes were written on my personal stationery. They’re right about that.”

I’d never given a thought to the stationery, other than to wonder about fingerprints. It had seemed to me rather ordinary kind of paper from a notepad, off-white in color, standard size, about four by six inches, unlined.

“How did they trace the paper to you? Are your prints on it?”

“I have a watermark on each sheet of my notepads.”

Imagine that. Everything about Leo was status and class. Why was I not surprised? Didn’t watermarks go with gold cufflinks, designer clothes, a high-end briefcase? I wondered if watermarks were registered, but didn’t want to ask and risk sounding like the plain-Jane, small-town folk I’d become. I hoped Leo would explain, but he must have assumed I had my own watermark and knew all about them.

“What can I do for you, Leo?”

“Well, I’m okay for now. I convinced them that I leave my pads around and anyone could have lifted one from the meeting room at the store or from my briefcase or my hotel room. It’s not like I have document control on the sheets. It’s just a notepad.”

A very expensive notepad, I guessed. Not like the small ones I picked up at the dollar table in an office supplies store. I still didn’t have an answer to why Leo was sitting in my atrium in the confessional seat, where Catherine, Bebe, and Jeanine had sat before him.

“The police must have believed you if they let you go.”

“Yeah, but these guys, the cops in this town, they…” Light dawned as he saw the folly of insulting the person he’d come to for help, the cherished aunt of one of the cops. “I’m just afraid it’s not over—I’m sure they’re trying to tie the notes, and me, to Palmer’s murder, and I’m alone here. I have an attorney at home, of course, but I need someone on my side. Someone local.”

“You’d be surprised how little that matters.”

Leo leaned toward me, his dirty elbows on my table. “Listen, Geraldine, I’m at a loss here. I know how it works when everyone knows everyone else. I don’t mean to keep disparaging your town but don’t you see that the cops have been going down the list, accusing anyone associated with Craig? First one of your own, then Catherine. Well, she’s still their top one, I guess, since she’s still in jail, but as soon as her lawyer gets wind of how they questioned me, he’s going to have her out of there. The cops are acting like, like…”

“Keystone Kops?” I said.

“Who?”

“Never mind. I still don’t see what I can do for you, Leo. You’re free.”

“And I want to make sure I stay that way until I can get myself back home. All I want is for you to corroborate my position that”—Leo held up his fingers and ticked them off—“one, you saw my pads all over the store, especially the meeting room; and two, I had no reason to harass Catherine, especially no reason to want her out of town. I just wanted
me
out of town. I’m much better off if Catherine stays here forever. I’d love for her to settle down with her Video Jack.”

“Jeff,” I said. “The man’s name is Jeff Slattery.”

Leo didn’t acknowledge my correction. I didn’t even blink, so accustomed was I to the SuperKrafts managers’ culture of the New York way or the highway. Nevertheless, I’d have no problem supporting Leo in his two assertions, if it came to that. I had certainly seen Leo’s notepads, though I’d never noticed a watermark (so what was the point of the personalization?) and as far as I knew, Catherine and Leo had shown no more animosity toward each other than any other two SuperKrafts employees, all of whom seemed to be at each others’ throats more often than not. But I didn’t have to make it easy for Leo. Since he was on my turf, and here to beg a favor, I thought I might as well bargain with him.

“I can certainly make sure Detective Gowen knows about the ubiquity of your notepads and I can tell him about the interactions I observed at meetings,” I said. “In return I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Leo sat back and threw his palms open in the space between us. “Go ahead.”

I wished I’d had a little warning and time to prepare for this cooperative spirit on Leo’s part. I thought of Leo’s row on Maddie’s capital-C Chart. She’d put a question mark under his location; all I had was hearsay that Leo and Craig had stayed in the SuperKrafts building after the afternoon meeting ended. Filling in the Leo row seemed as good a place as any to start. “Where were you during the earthquake last Saturday?” I asked.

“You mean while someone else was bashing in Craig Palmer’s head?”

“If you need to put it that way, yes.”

“Sorry. That sounded pretty bad. We had our disagreements, Craig and me, but I’d never wish that on him, or anyone.” He shook his head. “It was a horrible way to go.”

“The earthquake hit at six thirty-two. Where were you?” Gerry the interrogator, not easing up—I’d learned from the best.

“I was at a ‘gourmet’ ”—here he’d drawn quotes in the air—“supermarket near my hotel in San Jose picking up dinner. And yes, I have a receipt because I turn everything like that in with my expense sheets.”

I supposed Leo had already been through this with the LPPD, but I needed to evaluate him for myself. And for The Chart.

“Did anything in the supermarket fall over during the quake? Anything break?”

Leo gave me a confused look. I didn’t blame him. “No, it wasn’t that big a deal. That’s what the locals down there said, too. The dude at the register called it ‘puny.’ ”

Not even our earthquakes measured up to Leo’s standards.

I was out of questions. As pushy as Leo had been since I’d met him, I had a hard time labeling him a killer in his current state. Maybe that was his plan all along. Maybe I should join Jeanine in her psych courses.

I was about to let Leo out, without even offering him a drink, I realized, when Maddie crept up beside me, her clipboard in her hand.

“What’s the name of the store?” she asked Leo.

Leo looked flustered for a moment. Perhaps Maddie was more intimidating than the LPPD? But he recovered, and before I could react, he bent down, too close to Maddie’s face, I thought. I pulled her back from him. “One of those chains with a big orange sign and a take-out section in front,” he said.

I would have expected him to use the word “chains” with more fondness, given his association with one. Leo turned and walked down the driveway toward his car, his off-putting strut resurfacing. Maybe he’d already forgotten he’d come for my help.

Back in the atrium
with Maddie, I looked over her shoulder and saw that she’d filled in Leo’s row with “San Jose Store.”

“Should we call the store and check it out, Grandma?”

I was sure we could figure out which orange chain was closest to Leo’s hotel, but was it worth it? Leo had been grilled and re-grilled by Lincoln Point’s finest and I was sure they were more than capable of checking his alibi if they hadn’t already done so. A call more pressing to me was one to Jeanine to learn more about the Curious Case of the Watermarked Paper.

Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz.

Saved by lunch? Surely it was Bev this time. Maddie hopped to the peephole and I used the time to punch in Jeanine’s number.

“Hey, Mrs. Porter.” Jeanine sounded rightfully anxious over the phone. I would have bet money that she and Dana had made no plans about taking their story to the police.

“Jeanine, I have a question for you.”

Her hesitant “Sure” sounded the opposite.

“Where did you get the paper for the notes you wrote to Catherine?”

“Oh, I thought you were calling to ask if I’d contacted the police yet.”

How smart is it to remind me?
I wanted to ask. Jeanine was still losing ground on my list of favorite teens. And Dana, her co-conspirator, had never made it to the list. I thought of calling Loretta at KenTucky Inn to let her know that one of her employees had taken advantage of her position to collude in what might now be construed as a crime. Wasn’t it stalking to slip a threatening note under someone’s door?

“It’s Uncle Skip, Grandma,” Maddie called from the entryway.

Not what I wanted to hear until I’d decided when and how I’d share what I knew about the notes. And besides, I was expecting his mother, with lunch.

“Mrs. Mellon gave me the paper,” Jeanine said.

I drew in my breath. The notes were taking on a life of their own.

“Hey, Aunt Gerry,” Skip said, then when he noticed I was on the phone, “oops, sorry.”

I gave him a smile, turned my back, counting on Maddie to entertain him, and whispered to Jeanine. “Mrs. Mellon gave you the paper for the notes?”

“Yes, she was very specific about that, too. I thought I told you. She said it had to be on that paper. That was part of the whole joke, well, not a joke.” Jeanine chuckled, then turned it into a cough when I didn’t join her.

Bebe certainly had access to Leo’s fancy notepads. It must have given her quite a thrill to see his personal paper used for her purposes—framing Leo for sending the notes to Catherine—Bebe’s only possible motive being to hassle both her perceived enemies with one shot. She couldn’t have had Craig Palmer’s murder in mind at the time, but she got a dividend when Palmer was killed and the notes were seen as connecting Leo to the crime. I was embarrassed for my fellow citizens. Bebe, Jeanine, Dana. Could I blame the influx of New Yorkers for what some of them had turned into?

“Aunt Bev says to tell you she’s running late but she’ll be here soon,” I heard Skip tell Maddie. “And June’s coming over, too.” I gave a thumbs-up to that though no one was watching.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

A call from Henry, waiting. I was through with Jeanine anyway, in more ways than one. I thanked her for answering my question and switched to Henry’s call.

“I left a message for you this morning,” he said. “Figured I’d try again.”

“It’s been a kind of hectic day.” If you can call a parade of people hectic.

“No problem. Are you and Maddie home now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay if we come over?”

“ ‘We’? You mean…?”

“Taylor and me.”

I looked at Maddie, playing some kind of slap-my-hand game with Skip, a big grin on her face. Did I want to spoil things? “Uh…”

“It’s all good,” he said.

Because I trusted Henry, I relaxed and a smile crossed my face. “Have you had lunch?”

“Thought we could take you to lunch. That was my message earlier.”

“Hold on, Henry.” I covered the phone mic and said to Skip, “Can you call your mom back and tell her to bring lunch for seven?”

The day was looking up.

* * *

I gave
Maddie the task of setting the dining room table. I was on pins and needles about the Maddie-and-Taylor reunion (which sounded like an album I used to own) and about telling Skip what I knew about the notes. Leo Murray was the last person I ever thought I’d be defending, but even though I wasn’t legally bound to share what I knew, I felt obligated in every other sense.

With Bev, June, Henry, and Taylor on the way, this was my best chance to pull Skip aside. Before I talked myself out of it, I motioned for him to step into the atrium while Maddie was clattering around between the kitchen and the dining room with plates, glasses, and silverware.

Skip took a seat and crossed his legs. “Is this about me and June?”

“Should it be?”

“Uh-uh. We’re good, thanks.” He made a circle with his thumb and index finger: A-OK. Just like that? If he could move on, so could I. “You want to know about my day with Maddie?” he asked.

“Eventually, but not right now. Tell me about watermarks,” I said.

“Ha. You first,” he said.

“Okay, we don’t have a lot of time. I had a visit from Leo Murray.”

“Of course you did.”

“Why are you always saying that to me? Am I that predictable? Never mind. Before Leo came, I entertained Jeanine Larkin.”

“Who?”

“I’m sure you’ve met her. Maddie’s baby-sitter, now a SuperKrafts employee.” Skip nodded. “She’s the one who wrote the notes to Catherine Duncan.”

I always enjoyed surprising my nephew. He looked at me intently and scratched his head. “What? I’m all ears.”

I gave Skip the short form of Jeanine’s story.

“Way too weird,” Skip said. “If this is true, Bebe needs help. If she can’t eliminate her enemies, she pits them against each other?”

“It looks that way. Are you going to check it out?”

“You bet.”

“Are Jeanine and Dana in a lot of trouble?”

“Don’t worry. You absolutely did the right thing telling us this time.”

“This time?” I asked.

“I’m assuming you saw the notes, before we did.”

I cleared my throat. “What makes you say that?”

“From the way you talked about them. You didn’t say, ‘Catherine got some notes,’ or ‘There were some notes.’ You talked about them as if you’d already dealt with the fact that the notes exist. Jeanine was telling you who sent them. Leo was just giving you information about the paper. My guess is that Catherine showed them to you right when she got them. How am I doing?”

“I told Catherine immediately that she should take them to you. I didn’t—”

Skip held up his hand. “I’m sure you tried to get her to do the right thing. We’ll check out Jeanine’s story, but it’s looking like some stand-alone unfortunate play on Bebe’s part, taking advantage of a couple of unthinking teenagers only too willing to accept easy cash. There doesn’t seem to be any connection to Palmer’s murder.”

“So all we need to do now is find out if Catherine really is guilty.”

“Aunt Gerry, when I say ‘we’ I don’t mean you and me.”

“Point taken. I’m still curious about the watermark. How did you find it?”

“Through the usual analysis, looking for prints or any distinguishing marks on the paper.”

“Why would anyone use one in the first place? I thought they were for security, like on passports or bank documents or something official.”

“Also for status. You’d be surprised how many we see.” Skip started to laugh. “Want to know what Leo’s mark was?” I nodded. “The head of a lion with his initials,
L.M.
making a wreath around its neck. Gotta love those proud, roaring New Yorkers.”

I tried hard not to, but ended up joining in Skip’s laughter. We were having such a good time, I almost forgot that Catherine was still in jail. Our loud glee brought Maddie running. She’d been so intent on getting the table set up perfectly, she’d forgotten she was missing something big in the atrium.

My guilty pleasure, making fun of Leo’s personality traits, was cut short when I realized I hadn’t told Maddie that Henry and Taylor were coming to lunch. I revisited my invitation to them, especially with other guests here, familiar as we all were with each other. Maybe I’d been too quick to respond, before I knew what Taylor had in mind. How sure was Henry that Taylor was ready to make up, and not simply about to make things worse with the equivalent of a Dear John letter?

“I have something to do in my bedroom,” I told Skip and Maddie. I needn’t have worried; they’d already picked up their hand-slapping game. As I passed the dining room I noticed the long table set for five. I told myself that making room for two more would be a very happy task.

I sat on the chair next to my bed and punched in Henry’s number.

“We’re on our way,” he said. “I stopped to pick up some dessert. That chocolate cheesecake that Maddie likes, from the Swiss bakery.”

“Henry, I have to ask—”

“I don’t blame you for being anxious, Gerry. But I promise. If Maddie will accept Taylor’s apology, everything will be fine. Taylor was very moved by Maddie’s letter and she wants to tell her in person. Oh, and, by the way, no young males involved. Whew.”

“ ‘Whew’ is right. Okay, see you soon.”

I hung up feeling a little better—the word “apology” sounded better at least than “discuss,” which was too much like the ominous “We have to talk.” I still wasn’t sure whether I should give Maddie a warning.

Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz.

My doorbell and phone were making lots of decisions for me lately. If that marked me as a faltering, irresolute character, so be it. I heard shouts of “Welcome” as I walked toward the front of the house and saw Bev and June arrive together, each carrying a sack.

“Good thing I was handy,” June said. “Bev brought enough food for an army.”

“Or for seven hungry people,” I said, causing everyone to either raise eyebrows or count or both.

I made a decision and this time it was Maddie I coaxed to the side. I led her to her bedroom, watching her eyes grow larger and more wary with each step. She sat on her bed, leaving the rocker for me.

“Taylor’s coming?” she asked. Smarter than I was ready for, every time.

“Is that okay? Uncle Henry told me she’d like to apologize.”

Now I was worried her eyes would never go back to normal. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. It might be a little tricky with everyone here, so that’s why I wanted to let you know ahead of time.”

“Wow,” she said.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz.

Maddie jumped as if we were sitting on the epicenter of at least a seven-point-five.

“You might want to wait—”

But Maddie was already on her way to answer the door. I felt like hiding in her room until peace had descended on all couples in the universe.

* * *

Coward
that I am, I waited a few minutes in Maddie’s bedroom, pretending to be busy at my computer. Hadn’t I done enough for all the affected parties out there, buzzing around my house? I’d come forward with key information for Skip regarding Catherine Duncan’s notes; June and Skip thought I’d been a big help with their relationship issue; and I was providing my home for a reconciliation lunch for Maddie and Taylor. I’d earned a little respite.

I’d had about two minutes of it when Maddie, Taylor, and Henry came to find me.

“Grandma, we were looking for you,” Maddie said.

“I was just a few steps away,” I said, with what was probably a foolish grin.

Taylor gave me a big hug. “Aunt Gerry, I missed you. Thanks for inviting us to lunch.”

“Let’s go eat,” Henry said to me.

I took his arm, mock-formal, and we left the room, leaving the girls behind. So far, so good, but I expected a full report at bedtime with Maddie. Then Henry stopped to hug me, and all was well.

* * *

The
lunch fairies, led by Bev, had rummaged in my cupboards for platters and bowls and had arranged sandwiches and enough sides to fill a deli counter—fruit salad, potato salad, leafy greens, a tomato and mozzarella mix, and a creamy cole slaw. In the center sat a huge chocolate cheesecake.

In the kitchen, I helped Beverly prepare the drinks. “It looks good for Taylor and Maddie, huh?” she whispered. I nodded and showed her crossed fingers.

Bev was six years younger than her late brother Ken and I, but with her fair skin and her hair a lovely shade of red, she looked at least ten or twelve years younger, as I’d often told her.

“It all comes in a bottle now, Gerry,” she’d say whenever I complimented her hair especially. “You, too, can be gray-free.”

“Maybe on my next salon visit,” I’d say, though we both knew I’d never spend the time and energy on hair maintenance. I’d stick with admiring the outcome on someone who did.

Conversation around the table was understandably rife with cross-talk, making it fun, but difficult to follow one thread for very long.

“Where’s Nick?” Skip asked his mom.

Bev raised her chin and looked at me. She delivered her answer smoothly. “He’s out buying shoes.”

“Funny,” I said.

From another corner I heard Maddie and Taylor.

“Really?” Maddie had just said.

“Yeah, and I’ll use yours for a week,” Taylor replied.

“Grandma, Taylor said we can swap phone cases for a week. Hers is really cool.” She held it up for me to see. “It has all these really sparkly crystals.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said, dutifully.

Skip and June, at the other end of the table from me, shared their plans with whoever was listening.

“We’re going to take a vacation as soon as the Palmer case is closed,” Skip said. June nudged him. “And also, matching the time to June’s workload,” he added.

Bev gave a thumbs-up to her son. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“Tahoe,” Skip and June said together. A good sign.

The very large Lake Tahoe, a four-hour drive from Lincoln Point, was once ranked “Best Lake in America” though I still preferred the Finger Lakes of upstate New York, where Ken and I had visited often. But Tahoe was handier, and offered all the water sports Skip and June loved.