Murder in Miniature (11 page)

I admired the energy of the people gathered, but didn’t feel swayed one way or the other by their rhetoric or their methods. I thought of one of my favorite Abraham Lincoln quotes: “When the conduct of men is designed to be influenced,
persuasion
, kind, unassuming persuasion, should ever be adopted.” I’d never seen that quote on a public building.

“We have rallies like this all the time at home,” Maddie said, more disgruntled than I’d seen her since she was two years old. Though I tried to blame her mood on the traffic jam, I suspected it had more to do with me and my rush to avoid presenting her detective work to the LPPD.

I took the opportunity to engage (read: distract) her. “What kinds of things do they rally about in your neighborhood?”

“I don’t know exactly. But Mom says it’s what makes this country great.” Maddie didn’t catch my eye in the mirror as she usually did, but had her eyes down, as if she couldn’t bear to look at me. I had some work ahead of me to win her back, I knew.

In spite of the traffic hassles, I was proud of Mary Lou and her point about the benefits of being able to have rallies like this. My daughter-in-law put her time and energy into causes she felt strongly about. During one visit to Los Angeles, I was recruited to help her distribute information on the inadequacies of the art program (or was it that there was no art program?) at Maddie’s school.

In general, I tried to stay out of politics. As with this issue, there were complexities that no one ever talked about. Certainly the politicians didn’t explain them in their colorful, boilerplate brochures. Case in point: if I wanted a new police department or library, I had to endure enormous condo complexes, lose the city’s green spaces, and, for all I knew, favor some clause in fine print that took away funding for after-school music lessons.

This fall, we’d be voting for new city council members, who would in turn appoint the planning commission. Although the council was the deciding body, the commission had great influence over how much attention any referendum received, whether it passed or failed. And that would be determined by who was using this as a stepping-stone for an office at the state or national level, and other political factors beyond my comprehension. So what was the point? It was always the voters who had to compromise.

Stopped at a light, my car and all the others I could see were approached by the ralliers. All were very polite, probably following strict city guidelines against harassing the public. Leaflets from both sides were slipped through open windows, with “May I offer you some literature to help you decide on the issues?” When windows were closed tight in air-conditioned cars, such as mine, the marchers knocked politely and held up the flyers, mouthing a request to open the window.

I rolled down my window and took a leaflet from the first person to approach. After that, I had Maddie hold it up and shake her head. Something like, “I gave at the office,” I thought.

“Are you cool enough back there?” I asked Maddie. “Shall I crank up the fan?”

“Dad says that’s not the way it works. You don’t crank anything.”

I looked in the rearview mirror. Maddie’s frown said she hadn’t forgiven me yet for denying her a moment of glory with her Uncle Skip.

My only grandchild would be leaving in a couple of days to return to her Southern California home. We needed to talk. This was one debate I couldn’t avoid.

I turned left down the next unblocked side street, Gettysburg Boulevard, and headed home.

Maddie had gotten into the habit of pulling my cell
phone from my tote and plugging it into the charger as soon as we returned home. Partially as a thoughtful gesture, and partially because she didn’t trust me completely to remember such a high-tech chore. Today she went straight to her room. I did the task myself and decided to give her a little time to cool off, in all respects, before our heart-to-heart.

I knew Linda worked a seven-to-three shift on Tuesdays at the Mary Todd Home, one of three care facilities where she was employed as a nurse. Linda hadn’t been able to get a full-time job at any medical establishment, so she put together what amounted to one and a half jobs, splitting her time among three locations. All the facilities were within county limits, at least, but still Linda had a tough working life, often pulling double shifts. The Mary Todd was closest to Linda’s own home. She went straight home from there as a rule and, when she could, took a nap until dinnertime.

When to call? Later in the evening, when she’d be rested, or while she was tired and vulnerable? Something in between? Nasty as it seemed, I wanted her to get my message as soon as she arrived home. I punched in Linda’s number, ready to leave a message, turning on my air conditioner at the same time. I hadn’t quite recovered from the oppressive heat of the police station, and had a new desire to vote for progress if it would get us renovation funds for the LPPD. Talk about an easily swayed voter. An uncomfortable morning sent me one way; a small traffic jam another.

“Hello.” Linda’s dull, tired voice.

Now what? I had prepared myself only for a cryptic voice message. “Linda! I thought you’d be at work.”

“Then why did you call?” Still tired, but also grumpy.

Flustered (Ken said I always let her get to me), I came up with, “To…uh, leave a message so I wouldn’t forget.”

Could I sound any dumber?

“So? What’s your message? Shall I hang up and let you talk to my machine?” There was not the slightest touch of humor in her tone.

All at once, Linda’s bad temper got to me. She had asked a lot of me lately, told me nothing, made no effort to sound friendly or tell me why she was home on a scheduled workday. After I had practically committed a felony or two (I wasn’t sure about this, but so what?) to protect her privacy. I gathered my wits and found my voice.

“This whole thing has gone on long enough, and—”

“What
thing
?”

I hit the air-conditioning panel again, for two degrees lower. “The
thing
with Just Eddie.”

A long silence. Which I interpreted as
her turn to be flustered
.

I tried to wait her out, but couldn’t. “I’m worried about you, Linda. Can’t you understand that?”

“Can I come over?” she asked, subdued.

Interesting. No denial of a
thing
with Just Eddie. And a measure of humble pie in her voice.

“Of course. I’ll put on some coffee.”

“Iced tea would be better. And I’ll need about an hour. I’m in the middle of something.”

Apparently the old Linda hadn’t disappeared completely.

Maddie’s door was closed. I had a sinking feeling that
she had written her grandmother off as deceitful, dishonest, corrupt, and five other synonyms I hated to think of. I remembered her father at that age, more likely to be angry with Ken than with me. He’d close his door and crank up (I still liked that obsolete phrase) the volume on his stereo. Nowadays, with all the new electronics, at least the loud music went directly into the child’s ear. Better for parents, and possibly for the hearing-aid manufacturers of the future.

I thought about my next move. Maddie and I needed that heart-to-heart, but first I had to talk to Beverly.

“Wow,” was all my sister-in-law could say when I caught her up. Then, “Wait. You think Linda and Just Eddie…?” We laughed as if it were junior high and we’d found out two unlikely friends were kissing in the school- yard.

I figured Beverly had an image in her mind similar to mine: Linda and Eddie were both on the chunky side, with Linda at least a head taller. I was immediately ashamed that any of that would matter if they really were dating, and was glad I hadn’t said it out loud.

“It’s a theory. I don’t want to get Skip involved yet,” I said.

“Understood. Good for them, I say. We all deserve a little…something.” We laughed again.

“I hate to do this, Bev, but do you think you could take Maddie this afternoon while I talk to Linda? She’ll be over in about an hour.”

“No problem. I had a good rest this morning and I feel great. We can go to the pool and I can rest some more.”

I sighed with relief. “Have you had lunch yet?”

“Not if you’re offering to pack one.”

Two tuna-salad sandwiches, two apples, two bags of
potato chips, a bag of celery sticks, and four cookies later, I got the courage to knock on Maddie’s door. “Maddie, are you ready for some good news? Aunt Bev is going to take you to the pool.”

I heard a few computer sounds, then her shuffling to the door. She opened it, stepped out, and hugged me. I smelled something vaguely nutty and chocolate and guessed that Maddie had picked up a snack on the way to her room. “I’m sorry I was mad at you, Grandma.”

My heart lifted at the feel of her warm body and tight embrace. “Were you mad at me, sweetheart?”

She nodded, her head rubbing up and down against my waist. “I wanted to be the one to tell Uncle Skip.”

So that was it. No felony charges forthcoming, at least not from Maddie. “Did you think I would take the credit for your amazing detective work?”

“I know you wouldn’t. I don’t know why you have to talk to Mrs. Reed first, but it’s okay, I guess.”

We hugged for a long moment. I drank in the smell of the grown-up non-baby shampoo I’d let her use. With each visit, my granddaughter seemed smarter, but this time she was more than that. She was mature.

It often occurred to me how bright most kids were these days. Their parents talked to them and included them in conversation almost as if they were adults. Not the way I was brought up, living a kid’s life apart from my parents, probably barely knowing how to count and sing the alphabet when I entered first grade. Whereas, at four Maddie could name the planets and all the dinosaur species; at five she was reading a child’s guide to anatomy (from Richard) and a child’s guide to fine art (from Mary Lou). I doubted there was a school or museum program in greater Los Angeles that Maddie hadn’t been enrolled in.

But I’d wanted more for her. I wanted her to be pleasant to be with, understanding, and forgiving. Now she was all of those, putting me to shame.

I thought of the politicians rallying in town. Maybe instead of trying to groom Maddie for a career in surgery, I should be looking at her as a future president. I hoped she’d be able to skip over the planning commissioner step.

I put out a pitcher of iced tea and a platter of Linda’s
favorite Brie and crackers on the atrium table. I’d showered and changed out of my police station clothes, and into shorts and a Stanley Elementary T-shirt from Maddie’s school in LA. Whatever Linda did before her arrival, it wasn’t changing clothes. She was in her nurse whites (still required at the Mary Todd), except for bare legs and tan huaraches. Wisps of her beehive had escaped their perfect V formation on her forehead and threatened to obscure her vision.

After a few nibbles, I got the ball rolling. “I know Just Eddie was involved with that trip on Saturday morning, Linda. I saw his truck on a surveillance tape. And we both know that the murdered woman was found close to where you and he were. So you might as well give me your side of the story.”

I didn’t quite say that I wielded some influence over the police investigation, but I hoped that’s what would come to her mind.

“What do you want from me, Gerry?” Obviously the intervening hour had given Linda time to recover her reticence and defensive attitude. “I’m doing my best. I work very hard, I have Jason to take care of, I’m barely making ends meet with three jobs, and I’m all alone.”

“That’s just it, Linda. You don’t have to be alone. You could ask for help.” But that would take trusting someone, I added mentally. “Now if it’s just a coincidence that you and Eddie had a date in the same area as the—”

Linda’s loud, sudden cough took ages to subside. She got up and helped herself to a glass of water from the door of my refrigerator. “A date?” More coughing as she came back to her atrium chair. “Me and Just Eddie? Oh, Gerry, I should get up and leave right now if you think me and Just Eddie are an item.”

Just Eddie and I
. But who was keeping track? Evidently my theory was off the mark. “Okay, then enlighten me. What was Just Eddie’s truck doing at the crime scene, a few yards from the phone booth?” I tried to give
phone booth
all capital letters with my inflection.

Linda fanned her throat with a paper napkin, as if to preparing to talk again without choking. “I’ll tell you what happened, but you have to promise you won’t talk to Skip.”

“I can’t promise that, Linda.” (She didn’t have to know I already had practice in the withholding-information arena.)

A deep sigh. “First, I don’t know anything about the woman or the murder.” She looked me straight in the eye, pleading. “You know I could never kill anyone.” Then she gave me a rare smile. “Not that I haven’t fantasized about an ex or two.”

Linda was grumpy, yes. A chronic complainer, hard to get along with, never satisfied. But not a murderer. I smiled back, and took her hand (another rarity, since Linda and I were not touching buddies). “I know you couldn’t do this.”

The moment passed, and we were back to arm’s length.

“It’s all about Jason. Remember that robbery at Crane’s a week ago? I think Jason was involved.” Linda whispered the last sentence.

This was the closest Linda had ever come to admitting a wrongdoing by her son. I felt sorry for her and tried to smooth over the embarrassment she must have felt. “Are you sure? I know he cut his classes that morning, but—”

Linda held up her hand to stop me. “I found a gemstone, a very pricey sapphire, in the drawer of my Governor Winthrop desk. I knew Jason must have put it there.” My slight gasp didn’t stop her. I felt Linda needed to get a great deal out in the open, without interruption, so I let her talk. “It was the same day as the burglary. He was in my workshop, around my crafts table, which he never is. I walked in and he said he was looking for some glue or something. I didn’t put it together until I was working on the desk at the fair and I found this beautiful sapphire.” She held her hands in the shape of a globe. “So I went out to the parking lot to call Jason.”

Linda stopped for breath. She used both hands to lift her glass, as if it took all her strength to get a sip of tea. The fact that she hadn’t touched the Brie (Linda could eat more cheese and crackers in one sitting than anyone I knew) was another sign of her distress.

If this were Beverly telling me such a story, we would now embrace for a long time. But it was Linda, and our relationship was not the hugging kind. I did the best I could to encourage her, to remain nonjudgmental.

I cut off a thin wedge of Brie, placed it carefully on a plain water cracker, and put it on her plate. I gave her my calmest voice. “Take your time, Linda. I really do just want to help you.”

I saw a slight lowering of her shoulders as she took another breath. “When I went out, that was right after you left the table to work up front.” She took a bite of cracker and Brie.
Progress
. “I never would have left the tables, Gerry. You know that.”

I believed her. I put my hand on Linda’s arm. Her eyes teared up. I responded by spreading another slab of Brie onto a cracker and handing it to her. I also moved a box of tissues closer to her.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I couldn’t reach Jason. When I got back to my table, Just Eddie was going through my things. I knew he must have been looking for the gem. I had no doubt he was involved in the robbery and probably lured Jason into being his accomplice.” Another sniffle and a bite of Brie. “I tried to push him away and accidentally cut him with my Exacto knife, which made him madder.”

The bloody cloth. Another loose end taken care of (if I believed all this, and it was just outrageous enough that I did). “How could all this have gone on in a crowded hall?”

Linda blew her nose. “Everyone was distracted and busy setting up. You were checking people in. He kidnapped me.”

She’d slipped in that information so simply, I almost missed it. “Kidnapped?”

“Well, he told me if I didn’t go with him, he’d go straight to the police and tell them Jason pulled the Crane job on his own. He poked my ribs like with a gun. I remember thinking maybe he just wanted me to
think
he had a gun, but I wasn’t going to call his bluff. He’s too crazy. Then he drove me out to this disgusting trailer he lives in.”

“Near that phone booth?”