Something's Knot Kosher (5 page)

C
HAPTER
8

I suggested we take the contents of the safe into the kitchen and examine everything in the light. Back at the farm table, we counted the cash. Each of the five stacks contained one hundred Benjamins, ten thousand dollars. I lined them in a neat row. “Fifty thousand dollars seems like an awful lot of emergency money.”

Birdie nodded. “I agree. But Russell feared natural disasters. He always said if the city were destroyed by an earthquake or a dirty terrorist bomb, we'd have to pay dearly for any supplies.” She inspected the contents of the envelope then handed me the stack of papers. “Are these what I think they are?”

I examined them twice to be sure. “I'm pretty sure these are bearer bonds, each issued for ten thousand dollars. Some of them date back to the 1940s. There are twenty of them, and they all have interest coupons attached. They're worth two hundred thousand plus interest.”

Birdie wagged her head. “Heavens! To think he kept them in this house.”

Bearer bonds were as good as cash. Because they didn't require verification of ownership, anyone possessing the certificates—the bearer—could redeem them. “Maybe this is what the tattoo guy was after.” I handed them back to Birdie. “Who else knew Russell had these?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Even I didn't know.”

We opened the red diary. Inside were pages of handwritten letters and numbers divided into three columns. The first column contained letters, the second was a mixture of letters and numbers, and the third contained all numbers. “Birdie, you're good with puzzles and codes. What do you make of these?”

“Russell and his blasted secrets.” She turned the pages slowly. “The middle column looks like it might be dates. Beyond that I haven't a clue.”

I rotated the key in my fingers. “This isn't a door key. There's a number engraved on top. I'm sure this opens a safe deposit box. Do you have one?”

“I recall Russell brought home a bunch of signature cards for me to fill out a few years ago. The box is probably at First Encino Bank.”

“If you're on the card, you'll have access to the box. We can go there today if you think you're up to it.”

She frowned and twisted the end of her braid. “I am curious, of course. But that's the spot where Russell was murdered.” Her eyes filled with tears.

I tried to make sense out of my friend's reaction. One moment she became wistful and teary, clearly grieving over her husband's death. The next moment she sounded bitter and annoyed about the secrets he kept. Maybe mixed-up feelings were all part of the grief process. And maybe in the midst of her emotional roller coaster she found comfort in sticking to the structure of her usual routines, like baking first thing in the morning.

The doorbell rang and Arthur barked once, tail wagging. I stood. “Stay here. I'll go. Be ready to hide this stuff in a hurry if you have to. I looked around and pointed to the huge bag of dog food. “In there.”

Birdie nodded, still stunned by the valuable items lying in front of her on the kitchen table.

I spied Lucy waiting on the front porch and unlocked the door. She wore a blue V-neck T-shirt and jeans with a crease pressed down the front. Small lapis discs hung from her ears. Blue was her best color; it made her orange hair look more authentic. She breezed into the room with her long-legged stride, gold bangles jingling on her wrist. “I thought I recognized your car parked in front. You've been there since last night.” She spotted Arthur. “What's he doing here?”

I told her about the man with the spiderweb tattoo in the surveillance video and in front of Birdie's house.

“You should've told me. I'd have brought over your favorite Browning semiautomatic.” Lucy teased me about the time she lent me a gun to protect myself and I had to use it against someone who tried to kill me.

I stroked the dog's head. “Who needs a gun when they have Arthur?”

We joined Birdie in the kitchen. Lucy stared at the cash and papers on the table. “What in the name of Mother Teresa?”

I told her what we discovered in Russell's safe. She gestured toward the table. “So you think Spider Man is after this loot?”

Despite the horror of the situation, I smiled at her nickname for the killer. “It's a possibility. We need to get this money out of the house.”

Lucy helped herself to a cinnamon roll. “No problem. This stuff will be more than secure in our gun safe. The thing weighs a half ton. Plus you'd have to know the combination to get inside—if you can get past Ray.”

I knew that safe. More than a year ago, we hid some valuable quilts inside while investigating the murder of the quilt maker friend.

Twenty minutes later, we returned to Birdie's kitchen, minus the cash and bearer bonds. “Thank you so much, Lucy dear. I feel much better knowing all the money is out of the house.”

Lucy opened the little red book and frowned. “I don't get it. What's this?”

“Some kind of code.” I shrugged. “We need a lot more information to figure it out.”

She examined the key. “Don't you want to see what's in the safe deposit box?”

“Yes, but I don't know if I'm ready to step foot inside the bank.” Birdie shuddered.

“We'll go with you. You're going to have to go sooner or later, hon.”

Birdie sighed. “You're right, Lucy dear. The president of First Encino has called me every day. I'll ask him to gather Russell's things and meet us there.”

“Great idea,” I said. “Why don't you also ask him to make copies of your bank records while he's at it? You'll need them for probate.”

Three hours later, we walked through the front door of First Encino. Birdie leaned heavily on Lucy's arm. I spied the strip on the doorjamb that measured the killer's height. In the ceiling, I also spotted the camera that recorded the video now being broadcast on every news station. A man in a yellow golf shirt stood in front of one of the teller windows.

We walked across the terrazzo floor to an attractive dark-haired woman sitting at a desk.

She looked up from her computer. “May I help you?”

Birdie's voice came out in a whisper. “I have an appointment with Ivo Van Otten.”

The woman's eyes widened with comprehension. “You're Mrs. Watson?” She jumped up. “My name is Gail. I'm so sorry about your husband. Mr. Van Otten is expecting you. I'll tell him you're here.” She disappeared into the office I recognized from the video as Russell's and quickly emerged with a tall man in an expensive blue suit, with silver hair cut military style.

He marched up to us with a look of deep concern and extended his hand. “Hello, Birdie. It's been a long time. I can't tell you how devastated we all are. I don't know what we'll do without him. What a terrible loss.”

Lucy and I introduced ourselves, and he whisked us away to Russell's office, where we sat in prim wooden armchairs upholstered in black vinyl. “May I bring you a cup of coffee, or maybe some water?”

When we declined, he looked down and slowly rubbed his hands together. His voice cracked when he finally spoke. “As you know, Russell was more than a friend to me. He was my mentor. If not for him, I'd never have become president of this bank. His loss is deeply personal.” Van Otten worked the muscles in his jaw.

Birdie studied the man in front of her and said in a soft voice, “I know, dear. Russell spoke fondly of you. We shall both miss him, won't we?”

I smiled at the tall bank president. “Actually, Mr. Van Otten, the sooner we can conduct our business and leave, the better. As you might imagine, Birdie isn't really comfortable being here so soon after . . . so soon after the incident.”

He nodded gravely. “Of course.” Van Otten pointed to the top of the desk, where a banker's box sat, a white carton the size of a file drawer with a lid. “Inside are all of your husband's personal effects and copies of the bank records you asked for. I can carry this out for you when you leave. Would you like to access the safe deposit box now?”

“If you don't mind.”

Van Otten gave Birdie a log to sign then led us to a small room, which he unlocked with a key. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with little steel doors. The tallest were about twenty inches high and located on the bottom level. They grew smaller in size with each ascending row.

Birdie handed Van Otten her key. He checked the number, stopped in front of a door in the middle row, about twelve inches wide and six inches tall. He selected a similar key from half a dozen others on a ring and inserted them both in the twin keyholes on the top of the door. One key turned clockwise, the other counterclockwise, and the door swung open.

Behind the door sat a red metal container. Van Otten reached in, grabbed the wire handle, and pulled. A lid concealed the contents. He carried the box to a wooden table and chair in a cubicle with a privacy door. “I put another carton in there in case you want to remove anything. I'll wait out here.”

Birdie smiled. “Thank you, Ivo. I don't think this will take long.” I closed the door to the cubicle, anxious to see what other secrets Russell Watson hid from his wife. She lifted the lid and we looked inside. I stopped breathing.

Holy crap!

C
HAPTER
9

A small crystal ring box with gold hinges on the lid sat on top of a stack of manila envelopes and file folders. Something sparkled inside. Birdie lifted the lid, and we stared at a dazzling gold band encrusted with at least three carats' worth of diamond baguettes.

Lucy gasped and raised her hands to her cheeks. “Birdie, I didn't know you owned such a beautiful piece of jewelry.”

Birdie's eyebrows plunged toward each other, creating deep creases. “Neither did I.”

Lucy and I glanced at each other.

“So this isn't your ring?” I asked.

“I've never seen it before.”

Birdie reached for a card-sized envelope resting under the crystal box with the word
Jazz
written on the front, and opened it. Lucy and I crowded closer to get a better look.

Still gaping at the note, Lucy flung her arm around Birdie's shoulders in a supportive gesture. “No!”

Poor Birdie. We had just discovered another bombshell secret—Russell Watson had carried on a twenty-five-year affair with a woman named Jazz. The note read “anniversary.” Did this mean he'd married the woman? Was he a bigamist?

I had serious trust issues with men because of my own cheating ex-husband, and this discovery only fueled my cynicism. Bright red anger blossomed in my brain on behalf of my friend. “I'm so sorry.”

Lucy held the ring up to the light. “Don't you think this looks like a wedding band? Something's engraved inside, and I forgot my glasses. What does it say, Martha?”

I read aloud the script written inside.
Russell and Jazz Fletcher-Watson.
“There's also a date. It's for two weeks from now. He must have been planning to give the ring as a surprise in the near future.”

“What kind of name is Jazz, anyway?” Lucy's lip curled in contempt.

I shrugged. “Maybe her father played the saxophone.”

Birdie reached out for the ring and slid into the only chair in the small room. She stared at the glittering band. “I had no idea he'd taken things this far.”

So she knew about the woman?
I studied her face and concluded she must be in shock. For a woman who'd just found out her husband had been cheating on her for twenty-five years and had possibly even married the woman, she displayed a remarkable lack of outrage.

I spoke gently. “It sounds like you were already aware of this situation.”

“Is Martha right, hon?” Lucy asked. “Did you know about the affair?”

Birdie took a deep breath. “It's a little more complicated than that.”

Lucy put her fists on her hips. “How much more complicated can it be? That little weasel betrayed you. For twenty-five years. If I ever found out Ray cheated on me, I'd throw his rear out so fast, he'd break the land speed record.”

Birdie stood and began transferring the contents of the safe deposit box into the carton Van Otten had supplied. “Let's take all this back to the house and I'll explain everything.”

With the bank president's help, we transferred both cartons to the trunk of my Civic and then drove to Birdie's place.

Back inside her kitchen, we settled around the farm table with fresh cups of coffee and slices of lemon pound cake the quilty ladies had brought the day before.

Birdie relaxed in her chair. “I never thought I'd have a chance to say this to the both of you, but I'm so relieved I don't have to keep Russell's secret anymore.”

Lucy rummaged around in the cartons until she found the crystal box. “What I don't understand is how you could put up with his unfaithfulness.” She easily slipped the ring on her finger. “I'm a tall person, and I have rather large hands. But this ring is big even on me. Either Russell misjudged her size, or Jazz Fletcher is an awfully big woman.”

Birdie smiled faintly. “His secrets were always safe with me, but he's dead now, so there's no more reason to protect him.”

Lucy stopped twisting the ring and leaned forward. “You have my full attention, girlfriend. Dish.”

“Our marriage has always been more of an arrangement between two friends rather than lovers. We loved each other, but not in the way you and Ray do.”

Birdie's disclosure confirmed my earlier suspicions and so many other things—like separate bedrooms and separate lives.

Lucy stared at the ring hanging loosely on her finger. “This ring would fit a man's hand.” Suddenly she looked at Birdie. “Oh my God! Is Jazz Fletcher a man?”

Birdie nodded.

“Russell was
gay?
” Lucy considered her gaydar to be well-developed since her son, Richie, had a boyfriend. But Birdie's revelation had clearly blindsided her.

“How long have you known?” I asked.

“I've always known. Russell and I dated in college. After graduation, we got caught up in the whole idealism of the sixties and joined the group that started Aquarius right outside of Ashland.”

“You mean the commune where
everyone was married to everyone else?
” Lucy curled her fingers in air quotes.

Birdie smiled. “Like I explained before, the sixties was a time of breaking rules and experimenting. That's when Russell finally admitted he preferred men. In those days, society didn't make it easy for people to acknowledge to themselves—let alone the world in general—they were gay. Remember, until recently, the law in most states considered homosexuality a crime you could go to prison for. Russell had successfully buried those feelings until we got to Aquarius.”

“How did his being gay make you feel?” I asked.

“I was happy for him because I went through a liberating experience of my own.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows. “No! You're gay too?”

Birdie laughed. “The word is
lesbian,
and no, I'm not. But I found a passion with his brother, Denver, I never experienced with Russell.”

Lucy curled her fingers in air quotes again. “You mean the big ‘O'?”

Dear God
.

I reached for another slice of pound cake; to heck with Weight Watchers. “So we know you went to India with Denver for six months, and yet you came back, left the commune, and married Russell. Why?”

“Russell wanted to work in the world of finance but knew he'd never have a chance if he stayed at Aquarius. So he cut his hair, put on a suit, and landed a great job in Portland. He had a real opportunity to move up the corporate ladder, but only if he fit the image of a happily married straight man. He knew I'd keep his secret, so he begged me to marry him.”

“But you loved Denver?” I asked.

“Yes. However, the whole experience in India changed me. I needed stability. Denver was too restless and wild. In the beginning, I found that quality so attractive. But I couldn't live with the anxiety that went along with his lifestyle. When Russell heard we were back at Aquarius, he drove down and proposed to me again. He said I could have the best of both worlds and promised to always take care of me. I could continue to see Denver—or anyone else—as long as I was discreet. And he could do his thing and still remain in the closet.”

I wondered how angry Denver might have been when Birdie moved to Portland with Russell. Angry enough to want payback fifty years later? “Didn't you already tell Lucy and me Denver tried to talk you out of marrying Russell?”

“Yes. He thought I'd be throwing my life away. But he calmed down when he realized we could still be together. Denver stayed at Aquarius, making regular trips to visit me in Portland. At the same time we had our thing, he also fathered a child with Feather.”

“Weren't you angry?” I asked.

“I wasn't surprised. Rainbow knew about my arrangement with the Watson brothers. She used to call me regularly with the latest gossip on Denver and Feather. Rainbow hated her. Feather once boasted she was going to deliberately get pregnant and make Denver leave the commune with her.”

I recalled the photo Birdie had shown us. “You mentioned before that Denver had a son with Feather.”

Birdie sighed. “Yes. Her plan worked. Once the boy was born, Denver felt obligated to go along with her. He wanted to give his son a stable environment, like the one he had growing up. So they got married and moved back to McMinnville. I never saw him again.” Tears escaped and ran down her cheeks.

Lucy asked, “So how did things sour between the two brothers?”

Birdie shook her head. “I'm not sure of the details. It happened around the time their mother died. The father had been dead for years, and Russell and I had already moved to Encino. I remember Russell argued with Denver over the phone. As far as I know, we never heard from him again.”

Russell's brother must also be elderly. Clearly, a man in his seventies didn't rob the bank and shoot Russell. But he could have hired someone to even an old score. “Is there some way to contact Denver?”

“Actually, he phoned last night before you showed up, Martha.”

“What?” Lucy and I both spoke at the same time.

“He heard about the shooting on the nightly news. He wants to see me.”

So Denver is alive! What could he want with Birdie? “Did he say why?”

“He just said we have to talk about something Russell had that didn't belong to him. Something he wants back, but he wasn't specific. I told him I'd see him at the funeral.” She stood stiffly and excused herself to visit the restroom.

Why did Birdie seem so reluctant to talk about Denver?

As soon as she left the kitchen, Lucy whispered, “I wonder if she's still in love with him.”

I lowered my voice and leaned toward Lucy. “What I'd like to know even more is how far he'd go to get something back from Russell. Until we know if he was involved in the murder, we've got to protect Birdie.”

“Denver's too old to be the killer.”

“That doesn't mean he wasn't involved in some way. Meanwhile, a guy fitting the description of the bank robber skulked outside Birdie's house the same day of Russell's murder. She's not safe here.”