Something's Knot Kosher (13 page)

C
HAPTER
22

The state police field office in Springfield, Oregon, was located right off Interstate 5. A narrow strip of verdant lawn lined the sidewalk in front, and a row of alders delicately camouflaged the small one-story facility. Once inside the station, curious stares greeted our little group—three senior women with a German shepherd and a tall man carrying a tiny Maltese with a rhinestone barrette.

A blowsy secretary snickered as we passed, but a hard stare from Franklin shut her up. Somewhere between Cottage Grove and Springfield, he'd gotten rid of the Copenhagen, and his lip was flat again. He opened the door to a conference room and gestured for us to enter. Then he and the young trooper joined us.

Lucy, Birdie, Jazz, and I arranged ourselves in a protective huddle at the far end of a long table laminated in brown wood-grained plastic.

Jazz leaned over and whispered, “I'm surprised, with all the trees in Oregon, they don't use real wood for their furniture. And what's with these beige walls? Don't they realize that color paint, along with those fluorescent lights, sucks the life right out of a person's cheeks?”

Franklin cleared his throat. “The ETA for the feds is about a half hour.” He crooked his thumb toward his young partner. “Posner here will stay with you while you're waiting. I'll be back.” He left abruptly and closed the door.

Young trooper Posner stood awkwardly. “Is anyone thirsty?”

Jazz flashed a smile. “It's three in the afternoon. We normally take tea at this time. Maybe some scones and crème cakes to go with?” He turned his face to us and winked.

Posner didn't get the joke. He nodded, stuck his head out the door, and shouted, “Madonna!”

The blowsy secretary shouted back, “Yeah?”

“I need you!”

A minute later, she appeared in the doorway. “What?”

Posner whispered something under his breath. She thrust her neck forward and stared at us. “Seriously?”

“Just do it, please.”

Ten minutes later, we each had a disposable cup of tepid water, with a Lipton tea bag floating inside, and a small package of chocolate chip cookies from a vending machine.

“You know, I've been thinking.” Jazz opened a packet of sugar and stirred his tea with a white plastic spoon. “Trucker Chic is too casual. I mean, how would I dress Johnny for the Oscars? I'm getting a whole new take on his wardrobe. Detective Debonair. I'm going to redo the Smokey Bear trooper hat in forest green felt and stick a partridge feather in the brim. Luckily, I've been saving a bolt of dark green cashmere for just the right project. I think that fabric would rock in a suit with wide lapels.”

Lucy sipped her tea. “Sounds an awful lot like Robin Hood to me, hon. And way too matchy-matchy.”

Birdie and I looked at each other in disbelief. Could this be our Lucy speaking? The one who always dressed with a theme? The one who had an extensive collection of color-coordinated shoes that matched every outfit in her closet?

Jazz pursed his lips. “Hmm. I see what you mean. Maybe I could do the whole look in midnight blue instead. With a peacock feather and an iridescent shirt.”

Lucy nodded with approval. “I think you're on to something.”

Trooper Franklin came back in the room around four, followed by two male FBI agents wearing gray suits and blue ties. They introduced themselves as Tucker and O'Neal.

“Make yourselves comfortable, folks. We're going to be here awhile. We're waiting for Agent Lancet's flight to land in Eugene.”

Birdie raised her hand. “Have you apprehended Li'l Ape Man yet?”

Tucker shook his head. “No, ma'am. But authorities in all the surrounding states have been alerted. Unless he drives his car into the Pacific Ocean, we'll catch him.”

Over the next two hours, the agents interviewed us one by one. During that time I received a worried call from Beavers.

“Kay told me about the accident. Are you hurt? Is Arthur okay?”

“We're fine, Arlo.”

“I can fly up there tonight.”

Dealing with Arlo Beavers was the last thing I wanted to do right now. “Please don't. Honestly, we're fine. I'll give you an update tomorrow.”

We ordered pizza from a local restaurant. I requested one with anchovies, instead of pepperoni made from pork, and shared it with the dog. Despite his owner's instruction not to feed him people food, in my book, Arthur deserved a treat for being so well-behaved.

Agent Lancet finally showed up as we finished the last of our dinner. “I've just come from the forensics lab down the hall. The second body has been positively identified as Rene Levesque from a thumbprint they managed to lift from the corpse. Clearly, you can stop worrying about him as a threat. However, the person who hired him is still at large.” She looked at Birdie. “We have to assume he might come after you, even now.”

Jazz picked up the last slice of pizza with a paper napkin. “Don't you think he just did?”

Lancet blew out a breath. “Yeah. I'm leaning toward the Swedish rapper for obvious reasons. Running you off the road was a desperate act.”

“He really became obsessed with me,” Jazz said. “Like Glenn Close in
Fatal Attraction
.”

I wasn't convinced that such a violent man would bother to hire someone else to do his dirty work. Besides, how did he, or anyone else, for that matter, get access to Russell's coffin? “So, are you ruling out Russell's brother, Denver, and Jazz's neighbor Cisco Conejo as the possible mastermind? Seems to me they both held equally strong grudges that could've led to murder for hire.”

Lancet shook her head. A strand of brown hair slipped out of the bun at the nape of her neck and fell down the side of her face. “The problem is, we haven't found any evidence linking them to the murder. But we do have clear proof the rapper attempted multiple murders today. Yours. Sometimes the simplest explanation is the best. Li'l Ape Man is our most likely suspect.”

She was right, of course. The creep did attempt to kill us today. Still, I wasn't ready to eliminate the other two suspects from my list. Not until we knew for sure what was in that diary.

Soon Birdie would come face-to-face with one of the suspects. Russell's brother, Denver, said he'd meet her in McMinnville. What if Agent Lancet was wrong about the Swedish rapper? What if Denver Watson hired Levesque to kill his brother and steal back the bearer bonds? Now, more than ever, Birdie needed to break the code of secrets in Russell's red diary.

Birdie reached over and grasped Jazz's hand. “What about Russell, Agent Lancet?”

“The body's in Clackamas right now.” Lancet's voice softened. “You can arrange for him to be picked up tomorrow.” She looked at her watch and addressed Trooper Franklin and her colleagues at the FBI. “It's eight. Why don't we let these folks go to a hotel now? They've been through a rough day.”

Franklin reached in his shirt pocket and returned the keys to Lucy's Caddy. He also handed over her two guns. Then he gave us directions to the nearby Hilton Garden Inn. “We've booked separate rooms for each of you. They're not a pet-friendly hotel, but they won't give you trouble about the dogs.”

I ruffled the fur on the back of Arthur's neck. “How'd you manage that?”

He grinned. “I asked for professional courtesy.” The bump was back under his lower lip. As we left, I thought I saw him slip a small piece of paper to Jazz.
Really?

Arthur and I stayed in a single on the ground floor, near an outside door. I walked him for the last time that night and left a bowl of water on the floor in case he got thirsty. Then I took a long, hot shower in hopes of easing the soreness in my muscles, climbed into a clean pair of flannel pajamas, and took another Soma. My room phone rang.

“Are you feeling any better, dear?” Birdie's voice sagged with concern and fatigue.

“A little. I'll feel a whole lot better after a good night's rest.”

Birdie yawned as she spoke. “I know what you mean. But as tired as I am, I can't seem to settle down. I'm going to work on the diary for a while. I'll meet you at eight in the morning for breakfast.”

I turned off the lamp next to my bed, and Arthur crawled up next to me, burping anchovy breath in my face. The phone rang again. I opened my eyes, surprised to find the room flooded with morning sunlight.

“Hey, girlfriend, you all right?” It was Lucy. “We've been waiting in the restaurant for the last fifteen minutes and got worried when you didn't show up.”

The digital clock on the nightstand read eight-fifteen. Even if I hadn't seen the clock, my bursting bladder would've confirmed I'd slept more than ten hours straight. My body hurt all over. I was in for a few bad days from the trauma of the accident. Every nerve ending burned and ached. “Oh, crap! I forgot to ask for a wake-up call. Can someone come and walk the dog while I get dressed?”

At twenty minutes to nine, we ordered big breakfasts from a laminated plastic menu. I looked around the booth and realized nobody wore denim today. Even Birdie. If all went well, we'd be burying Russell this afternoon.

Lucy and Jazz each wore peach linen. Birdie wore a long cotton dress left over from the seventies, printed with yellow flowers on a soft blue background.

When she saw me staring at it, she fingered the fabric on her sleeve. “This was one of Russell's favorites.”

I also wore a cotton dress, only mine was calf-length and rather plain. I purchased it because the solid green brought out the color of my eyes.

I ordered two eggs sunny side up and a stack of pancakes soaked in melted butter and syrup made from Oregon marionberries. A half hour later, I added milk to my third cup of coffee and sank back in the red leatherette cushion of the booth. “What do you want to do now, Birdie?”

With the back of a teaspoon, she spread the last drop of marmalade from the little plastic bucket onto the crust of her English muffin. “I called the mortuary in McMinnville last night to explain why we didn't show up yesterday. They'll pick up Russell from the medical examiner's office this morning and be back in McMinnville by the time we get there. I told them to be sure to wrap him back up in his quilt.”

“And I called Agent Lancet this morning,” said Lucy. “So far, nobody's spotted the red Porsche.”

Jazz smoothed the sleeve of his peach and white striped shirt. “I'm worried that he's still lurking around somewhere watching us. I had nightmares all night. Poor Zsa Zsa didn't know what to think.” He looked around the restaurant to make sure nobody else was watching. Then he reached into his yellow tote bag and caressed the little Maltese.

Today Zsa Zsa wore a dress sewn from the same peach and white striped fabric as Jazz's shirt.

Lucy took out her cell phone and sent a brief text. In the frenzy of events yesterday, I had completely forgotten about Ray Junior's missing wife and children.

“What's the latest, Lucy? Any news from Tanya and the kids?”

She closed the phone, looked up, and sighed. “Trey called his dad last night.” Trey was what they called Ray Junior's son, Ray Mondello, III. “They're okay, but they're understandably confused. Junior's flying to Hawaii today to try and talk Tanya into coming home with the boys.”

The sadness in Lucy's eyes tore at my heart. I began to get an idea about how I could help her. “Does this kung fu guy have a name? What do you really know about him?”

“His name is Nick Evans. He's originally from Hawaii. Tanya met him two months ago. That's all we know.”

Two months didn't seem like a long enough time to be familiar with someone. “What kind of man runs off with a married woman and her children after such a short time? He's up to something bad.”

Lucy frowned. “I don't think you'll ever convince Tanya of that.”

“Then we need to find some dirt on Nick. Something Ray Junior can use to persuade Tanya to come home.”

“How are we going to uncover something a private investigator couldn't find?”

“Don't worry,” I said. “I've got a plan.”

I scooted out the end of the booth. “We should probably get going. Since I overslept, I still have packing to do.” I had left Arthur in my room eating his morning kibble out of the stainless steel bowl. He'd need another walk before we got started. “Arthur and I will meet you guys out in front in twenty minutes.”

As I folded yesterday's clothes and put them in my suitcase, I kept thinking about something Birdie just said. She'd asked the mortician in McMinnville to be sure Russell was wrapped up in her Baltimore Album quilt again. I revisited the scene of yesterday's disaster in my head and realized, with a sinking feeling, that wasn't going to happen.

When Levesque's body was added to the casket, the prize-winning reproduction of a Watson family heirloom had been removed. Birdie's Baltimore Album quilt was missing.

C
HAPTER
23

It was Friday and, once again, I'd be missing Shabbat dinner that night with Uncle Isaac. I called him on my cell phone as we headed north on Interstate 5 toward McMinnville.

“Shabbat Shalom, Uncle Isaac.”

“Good
Shabbos, faigela
. So how did it go yesterday, the funeral?”

There was no way I was going to tell him about the accident and the extra body we found. “Uh, we ran into a little glitch on the highway and ended up spending the night in Eugene. But we're on our way now.”

The anxiety in his voice was instantaneous. “
Nu?
What kind of glitch? Are you okay?”

“It was nothing. A flat tire and a busted thingamajig. We had to wait overnight for a part.”
God forgive me for lying to an old man.

“
Baruch haShem
. For a minute, I was worried. I heard on the news yesterday some
meshuggena
celebrity tried to run a bunch of elderly people off the road in Oregon. They say he's still on the loose.”

What nerve! Elderly? To the media, anyone over forty was elderly. “What else did they say?”

“They said he's Swedish. I'm surprised. They're usually such a quiet people.”

“Don't worry, Uncle Isaac. Oregon's a big place. Chances are we'll never run into him. I'll see you when we get back to LA next week.”

I closed my phone and caught Lucy looking at me in the rearview mirror. “Flat tire? Waiting for parts? Don't look now, girlfriend, but your nose is growing longer.”

“I know, I know.” I rolled my eyes. “But what was I supposed to tell him? Apparently the whole thing was on the news last night. Thank God they didn't divulge our names.”

I called my daughter, Quincy, in Boston but only got her voice mail. I wished her a Shabbat Shalom and asked her to call me later.

“Oh, for pity's sake! Why didn't I see this before?” Birdie waved a sheet of paper in the air with alphabets written in pencil. “I think I've broken the code.”

Thank goodness. Birdie was a seasoned puzzle solver. Her years of working cryptic crosswords were about to finally pay off.

“Just as I thought.” She beamed. “It's a simple substitution code. A shift cipher with a key phrase. It works like this. First, you write out the alphabet in the usual way. Then right under each letter you write out the cryptic alphabet, beginning with a key word or phrase, which can have no repeated letters. After you write the key, you insert the rest of the letters of the alphabet in their normal sequence. You still end up with twenty-six letters, but they've been shifted over.”

“Huh?” Lucy glanced at Birdie.

“Remember Russell wrote the words ‘C
razy
P
lot
' in the front of the diary? That phrase was the key that unlocked the cipher.”

I reached forward. “Can I see that?”

Birdie handed me the sheet of paper on which she had written:

“Congratulations, Birdie, this is brilliant.” I handed the sheet back to her. “So, what does the diary reveal, besides dates?”

She sighed. “Give me some time to work it out. I've only just cracked the code.”

“I think we're in trouble.” Lucy kept looking in the rearview mirror. “We're being followed. Black SUV. Two cars behind.”

Jazz and I turned in our seats and strained to look out the back window. Sure enough, the SUV trailed directly behind a white Prius. “I see him. How can you be sure he's following us?”

“After yesterday? I'm constantly checking the road. He's been pacing our speed, only allowing one car between us the whole time.”

Jazz hugged Zsa Zsa and stroked her nervously. “Do you think Li'l Ape Man changed cars? Do you think he's still after us?”

I pulled out my cell phone. “We're not going to take any chances. I'm calling Agent Lancet right now.” She picked up on the second ring, and I put her on speaker. “I think we're being followed again. We're approaching Albany.”

“Describe the car.”

I twisted around in my seat to look again. “Black SUV. Lucy says it's been on our tail since we left Springfield.”

She laughed. “Don't worry. You're quite safe.”

The car pulled out from behind the Prius and sped up. “Oh my God, it's coming after us. I'm getting the Browning out of my purse.”

“Are you crazy?” Lucy shouted. “If I get any bullet holes in this car, Ray is going to kill me.”

Jazz looked horrified. “You and a gun? Not again!”

“Did I hear someone say they still had the Browning?” Lancet was still on the phone and had heard everything we just said.

“No!” we all said together.

The SUV pulled up next to us and the window on the passenger side slowly rolled open. A woman's right hand waved from the passenger seat. Then I saw her face. Agent Kay Lancet.

She spoke into the cell phone she held in her left hand. “You didn't think we'd let you go back on the road without providing security, did you?”

“Good grief!” Lucy's hands loosened their death grip on the steering wheel and she slumped in her seat. “She could have warned us. I almost had a heart attack.”

A wave of relief washed over me, and I started breathing again. “You're on speaker. We can all hear you.”

“Keep your guard up. You're doing great. Mrs. Watson, I called the ME's office in Clackamas. They released Mr. Watson's body to Yoder Brothers Mortuary early this morning. Everything should be ready for you by the time we get to McMinnville.”

“How long will that be?” Lucy asked.

“Not more than an hour and a half. Relax, folks, and enjoy the beautiful scenery.” Lancet ended the call and the SUV dropped behind us once again.

Lucy turned off the highway into the Walmart in Albany for a pit stop. The SUV pulled up next to us in the parking lot, and Agents Lancet, Tucker, and O'Neal got out. “We'll be going in with you.”

Jazz shrugged. “Fine with me.” He turned to Agent Tucker and offered a friendly smile. “Does everyone in the FBI wear gray suits?”

“Don't know. Never thought about it.”

“What about off duty? Do you ever do colors?”

“No.”

Jazz raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you ever decide to branch out, consider sticking to slightly grayed pinks and blues. You're definitely a soft summer.”

Tucker grunted in response and gestured for O'Neal to accompany Jazz into the store.

I touched Agent Lancet's arm and indicated I wanted to talk to her alone. We waited until everyone disappeared inside Walmart.

“Agent Lancet, Kay, there's a problem I'm hoping you can help me with.”

“I will if I can.”

I told her about Lucy's daughter-in-law, Tanya, running off to Hawaii. “She took the boys out of state without their father's permission. The thing is, she's only known her kung fu instructor for two months. What kind of man would run off with a married woman and her three children? I'm certain he's up to no good.”

“This sounds like a civil matter to me, Mrs. Rose.”

“Please call me Martha. Isn't it kidnapping? Isn't that a federal crime?”

“No. It's a federal crime only if they were taken against their will. But if she went willingly, it's a matter for the family courts.”

“Lucy's son is flying to Hawaii to persuade Tanya to come back home with the boys. I thought that if he had some dirt on the kung fu character, Ray Junior could convince her that she'd made a big mistake.”

“Well, they could always hire a private detective to do some digging.”

I groaned. “They did, but he turned up nothing. You, on the other hand, have access to all kinds of databases.”

She pulled her head back. “We don't investigate people when no crime has been committed, Martha. You're asking me to use the resources of the federal government to spy on one of its citizens.”

“Please, Kay. Just take a look. If you turn up nothing, nobody needs to know you looked in the first place. But what if he's done this before? What if he's a serial killer? What if this is a huge scam designed to extort money from the Mondello family? Wouldn't you want to catch the guy?”

She briefly closed her eyes then frowned at me. “Tell me everything you know about him. Name, where he worked. A photo would help. I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise anything.”

I gave her an impulsive hug. “Thank you! The Mondello family has been torn apart by this. They'll be so grateful.”

She held up her finger. “This is totally off the record. Do you understand what I'm telling you?”

I nodded. “I won't even tell Lucy about it. This is just between you and me.” I felt a sudden sense of lightness as we turned and joined the stream of shoppers headed toward the entrance of Walmart. If Nick Evans was a bad guy—and I was sure he was—the FBI would have a record of him somewhere.

Once again I had noticed Lancet's stunning cheekbones and large eyes. I suspected when her long brown hair wasn't bullied into that severe bun, she'd turn out to be quite an exotic beauty. I cleared my throat. “So how long have you known Arlo Beavers?”

“Why?”

“I don't know. He said the two of you go way back.”

She continued walking, looking straight forward. “We do.”

I hesitated asking my next question. She'd have every right to shut me down, but I took a deep breath and asked anyway. “You seem to be on very friendly terms. Did you ever date?”

She slowed her pace and stared at me. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I used to go out with him. Now he seems interested in rekindling a romance. I just wondered what your experience might have been.”

She stopped walking altogether and regarded me for a long moment before she spoke. “If you must know, we used to be married.”

My mouth fell open. This was Beavers's ex-wife? While I dated him, he never spoke about her except to say he had once been in a bad marriage. I had just assumed he had been a victim of some floozy. But how bad could it have been? Kay Lancet seemed like such a decent, capable woman.

With a flash of insight, I understood. Lancet wasn't the kind of woman who'd allow herself to be manipulated, and neither was I. The problem was, Beavers had a hard time tolerating not being in control. After all, didn't the same kind of power struggle end my relationship with him? If Crusher were truly gone forever and I were foolish enough to start dating Beavers again, chances were history would repeat itself. But I still needed confirmation that I was seeing things clearly.

“Did you ever think he might be a little overbearing?” I asked as we entered the store and headed toward the restrooms.

She gave a short laugh. “Oh, yeah. But Arlo's a decent guy. And a hell of a good cop. I really don't care who he dates. I've got no skin in that game anymore.”

I nodded and pushed open the restroom door. Neither did I.