Address to Die For (27 page)

When bringing contributions to a potluck, label your serving dishes so you can be sure to get them back, and so your host will know who to ask for your wonderful recipe.

 

 

 

 

B
y Sunday morning, dozens of neighbors had dropped off casseroles, expressing their sympathy for our destroyed barn and wanting to hear the story of Flora's arrest. By noon, our refrigerator was full, the countertops were crammed with covered dishes, and I'd met nearly everyone who lived in the neighborhood.

The boys and I texted, emailed, or phoned dinner invitations to everyone who'd left their contact information with their casserole. The plan was to hold a potluck–open house on Sunday evening from five to seven o'clock, tell our story a few times, and encourage our guests to take their dishes home. We invited Adelia and her team, Stephen and Jason, Tess and Teddy, Elaine, April, and the boys' new friends.

I was about to make a list of beverages, chips, and other items we might need, when Stephen called. He offered to stop by the big-box liquor store and pick up everything. I readily accepted.

* * *

Before the party had officially started, our backyard was crowded with adolescents eyeing the remains of the barn and listening to Brian and David's story of their daring escape down the rope ladder.

I overheard kids exchanging plans for rebuilding the barn as a water park, a safari experience, a skateboard park, a clubhouse for young teens, or a horse-boarding facility. I decided I wouldn't be missed and returned to the house.

Stephen had opened bottles of wine and put cans of soda and bottles of water on ice.

He looked up as I let the screen door bang shut. “There are a few more six-packs,” he said. “Want to take care of them?”

I bent to pick up a twelve-pack of cans from the floor and my stitches throbbed. I'd ended up with six stitches above my eyebrow, along with a lingering headache and a garish purple bruise.

“How 'bout I do the chips instead?” I grabbed a few bowls and a pair of scissors. “When did chip bags become impossible to open without scissors?”

I looked up at Stephen. “Can you answer a few questions before everyone else gets here?”

“Fire away, but I don't believe you have only
a few
questions.”

I smiled. “How did Flora get into my house? I'm sure I locked the door.”

“Lock picks. Her daughter is a big fan of
Elementary
, the Sherlock Holmes show. Holmes has a wall of locks he uses to test his lock-picking skills and Jennifer wanted a similar setup. She left the pick set her dad bought her at Flora's store, and Flora taught herself during lulls between customers.”

I'd seen the locks at the store, and Flora and I had even talked about them, but I'd never incorporated the glaring clue into my index-card analysis. I slapped my forehead with the flat of my hand, and winced. “So, Flora filled the dishwasher with laundry soap.”

Stephen nodded. “She told Jason she'd wanted to keep you busy and away from the investigation from the beginning. She hoped anything she did would be blamed on the vandal and you'd decide to give up your detective work or leave Orchard View.”

“I nearly did.” I nibbled absentmindedly at a chip, realized what I was doing, and pushed the bowl away.

“So, more questions . . . did Jason ever figure out how Tess's and Teddy's fingerprints ended up on the cans and bottles in my basement and Miss Harrier's office?”

Stephen laughed. “That one confused us, but it shouldn't have. Javier Hernandez helped out at school functions. If an event generated too much recycling for the bins at school, he'd bring bottles and cans back here and put them out on garbage day. We figure a few cans from a school event escaped the recycling bins and they happened to be ones with Tess's and Teddy's fingerprints.”

“And Harrier's office?”

“Flora raided Tess's recycling bin on a Sunday evening and planted the cans to confuse Jason.”

“And Miss Harrier's iPad? Did Jason find it?”

Stephen nodded. “Thanks to Brian. When your heat came on, the vent in his room rattled and he dug out a screwdriver to fix it. The whole process reminded him of the rattling vent in Miss Harrier's office. He figured it made perfect sense that it would be rattling if Flora had decided to hide the iPad in the ventilation shaft and was screwing the cover back on when she was interrupted by a visitor. He called Jason to tell him to look there.

“Jason located the tablet pushed way in the back of the air-conditioning duct in Miss Harrier's office. He found it just before he got the second call from Brian to come up here to rescue you from Flora.”

“I did
not
need rescuing,” I said, but I smiled. Brian had been determined to find the iPad. Jason had put him off, but in the end, Brian had been instrumental in finding it and in getting the police to the house to arrest Flora. I was proud of him, but I knew that, more importantly, he was proud of himself.

“Did the iPad help at all?”

“It was a gold mine. Harrier had uncovered Umberto's fraud scheme and documented everything on the iPad,” Stephen said. “Finding her notes was a major break. Umberto was running scams full-time, from pushing Flora into illegal pot sales to absconding with funds from his own foundation, and to fraudulent contracts with the Orchard View school district. He created maintenance companies under false names. Those companies would bid low on district contracts and then perform shoddy work. His pest-control company sprayed water instead of pesticides. The water created mold problems, so another of his companies performed mold abatement. Where contracts required three coats of paint, his company would apply one. If a job called for ten nails, his guys would use eight. I'm guessing the Internal Revenue Service, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Cal-OSHA, and the state Department of Education will be crawling over the investigation before the week is out. Umberto and some of the other DeSoto siblings had a widespread scheme to bilk the city and the state out of thousands—possibly millions—of dollars of school funding.”

“So when Brian and other kids complained Miss Harrier spied on them at lunchtime . . .” I began.

“. . . Harrier was taking pictures of peeling shingles and other evidence. It was all on the iPad,” Stephen finished.

“Why put the iPad in the vent?”

“We don't know. Her iPad calendar showed she'd had a meeting with Umberto and folks from the school district to coordinate the schedule for renovating the playing fields.”

Stephen stopped speaking for a moment while he crushed empty soda cartons and put them in the recycling bin. “She could have been hiding the iPad from Umberto.”

“That's the best you've got? Wouldn't a desk drawer or her briefcase have taken care of that? What does Jason say?”

“Honestly? He has no idea. He's just glad to have found her notes.”

Grabbing another bowl and some pretzels, Stephen opened the bag without using scissors and without damaging any pretzels.

I thought for a moment. I was still angry about all the trouble Dante had caused. We'd fallen into the habit of referring to him as the lowlife brat. But he was only a few years older than David and had grown up on our street. His parents were my neighbors.

“What about Dante?” I said. “Does Jason have any idea why he was so angry? Why he decided to terrorize us?”

Stephen shook his head. “It's an incredibly tragic story. Dante and his brothers spent a great deal of time with their uncle, Umberto, who pressured them into running errands for him that ranged from unethical to illegal. Dante sold drugs to middle-school kids and vandalized stores in a protection scheme.”

I was shocked but thought about Flora's fear of Umberto and Diego's discomfort in talking about the events at the middle school. I wondered whether his black eye had truly been the result of a soccer accident or if Umberto had something to do with it. I gritted my teeth. I'd change a lot of things in the world if I ran the place, but bringing trouble to those who hurt children was at the top of my list.

Stephen continued. “When Dante balked, Umberto threatened him
and
his little brothers.”

“Go on,” I said.

“Jason thinks that Umberto found out that the boys were hanging out here with Mr. Hernandez and grew concerned that the caretaker's positive influence on the boys might undermine his own power over them. Dante told Jason that it was Umberto who forced him to start breaking the windows and inflicting other damage so it would look as though Mr. Hernandez wasn't doing his job. With Javier gone, Umberto figured he could use your house to store some of his illegal commodities. He told Dante to step up the damage or he'd hurt Elisabeth and make sure Mr. Hernandez was arrested for child abuse. Umberto told Dante and Diego that they'd go to jail too.”

It sounded to me like the scenario Umberto had painted for the kids was a complete falsification, and that any case against Javier Hernandez would have fallen apart when exposed to the light. I frowned and shook my head.

“Poor Dante,” I said. “If he'd confided in any adult other than Umberto, he probably would have gotten the help he needed to turn the situation around.” I swallowed hard and asked the question that was the most difficult for me. “Did Umberto kill Javier Hernandez?”

“We think so,” Stephen said. “Dante told Jason that Javier was going to drive Diego and Dante to the police station to talk to someone about what was going on. Umberto arrived at the house just as they were leaving. Dante thought quickly and told Umberto they were off to get ice cream, but Umberto told the boys to wait in the truck while he had a few words with Javier. They went into the house and after a few minutes, Umberto returned and told the boys that Mr. Hernandez had changed his mind about going for ice cream. Umberto kept Dante and Diego away from the house after that, and they never saw Javier Hernandez again.”

I laid both my palms on the table, trying to steady myself. I was shaken by Dante's story and by the horror of Umberto DeSoto. Stephen massaged Munchkin's ears and was otherwise still. I heard kids shouting and laughing in the backyard, while adults gathered in the front room and on the front porch. I needed at least a moment to regroup.

Like most situations, the truth behind the vandalism at our house was more complicated than I'd imagined. I'd thought of Dante as a lowlife brat instead of as a young man caught in a dreadful situation. Javier Hernandez befriended Dante and helped him look for a way out of his mess. He'd served as Dante's lifeline and Umberto had killed him. Dante had a right to be angry.

I wasn't ready to feel warm and fuzzy toward Dante, although I understood what had happened. I hoped he would get the help he desperately needed.

Stephen put his hand on my shoulder. “Jason suspects Dante will eventually confirm that Umberto has been systematically abusing the boys for years.”

I felt sick. “Not sexually?”

Stephen shook his head. “Probably not. Jason says Umberto has been a bully since grade school. He thinks intimidation was Umberto's game. Despicable, but not sexual.”

“Did the police ever find Javier's wallet and car? Did they figure out why he had no identification?”

“Jason's not sure,” Stephen said. “He thinks Umberto hid the car and the wallet to complicate the investigation. He's hoping Dante will help us find them.”

“And what about Javier?” I asked. “Why didn't anyone report him missing?”

Stephen rubbed the top of his head with his hand. “He told his wife he was going to stop by here to fix the windows and porch, and then he was headed off on a three-day fishing trip, alone. His wife only began to worry when he didn't come home on time.”

I pulled my hair back from my face and my head drooped. What a horrible, tragic mess.

“Will they be able to convict Umberto on any of this?”

“Jason's investigation has uncovered a ton of solid evidence. With help from Flora and Dante, and the information on Miss Harrier's iPad, he thinks the chances are good. That's the district attorney's job, though.”

Stephen picked up the tub of soft drinks and ice. “Jason asked me to pass along his thanks to you and Brian. You should take that as a great compliment, especially since he's been forced to admit that your snooping around was really helpful to the investigation.”

I snorted. “What on earth is he talking about? Flora nearly killed me and it was the police who filled in all the blanks. I didn't do anything.”

“Not so. Flora wasn't a part of the investigation until after Jason picked her up here in your kitchen. He'd given up on locating the iPad but Brian made sure he kept pursuing it. Without Brian he wouldn't have found it. And without the information that you provided from your conversations with Flora and Dennis, Jason wouldn't have had enough evidence for a warrant to arrest Umberto and search his home, businesses, and computers. You broke this case wide open and the police know it. Jason's not happy that it put you in danger, but even he has to admit that you provided a whole new line of inquiry.”

I started to respond, but Stephen cut me short. “But don't expect to get more than the thanks he's already given you. He told me to thank you and then to kill you. He's that angry.”

He put the tub of drinks on the counter and offered me his hand to help me from the chair. “That's enough of crime and mayhem. I'm starving, and I'll bet those kids outside are hungrier still. Grab those chip bowls and take them out. I need to check on the grill.”