This Old Souse (15 page)

“I'm a friend of the late Frank Purvis,” she lied to the smooth-voiced woman who'd answered the phone. “I've lost his address, and I want to send a sympathy card to his family. If you can't release that information, then I'll send the card to you and you can forward it. If it isn't too much trouble.”

“One moment,” said the voice. “I'm sorry,” she said after a full minute had passed, “we have no Frank Purvis listed as a member. There must be some mistake.”

“Is it possible that he lives in the gated community next to the golf course?” Judith inquired. “I know he has some connection to Broadwood.”

“I'm sorry,” the voice apologized again. “I checked
the residential listings as well as the membership rolls. We have no one named Purvis connected to Broadwood.”

Judith thanked the receptionist and hung up. Frank had somehow finagled an invitation to play at Broadwood. Was it for the sole purpose of meeting Phil French? Was it possible that Phil was an accomplice in whatever scheme Frank had concocted?

It was Friday. Joe would be home the following day, or Sunday at the latest. Judith had to act fast. Anna French was the only Bland family member with whom she'd established any sort of rapport. And Anna was about to leave town. She'd probably be working late. Six more guests—sorority sisters from Missouri—arrived and had to be settled in before Judith was able to dial Anna's office just before six o'clock.

Anna was in. “Yes, I'm stuck here until nine at least,” she informed Judith. “Can you make this quick?”

“Actually, no,” Judith said. “May I buy you dinner when you get off work?”

“Dinner?” Anna sounded surprised. “I don't know…I'll probably just want to go home and crash. I have to be back at the store by nine tomorrow.”

“This is important, Anna,” Judith said. “I met your husband today. I'm worried about him. Did you know that he knew the man who was killed?”

There was an audible gasp at the other end of the line. “No! I haven't talked to Phil since breakfast. Okay, where shall we meet?”

“Where do you live?” Judith inquired. “I'd like to make this easy for you.”

“We live over in Hamilton Park,” Anna said, referring to the upscale neighborhood near Broadwood. “We have a condo on the lake. It would be just as easy if you met me downtown. How about Julio's? It's close to the street I take to go directly to Hamilton Park.”

“Fine,” Judith said. “I'm on the south slope of Heraldsgate Hill. It'll take me less than ten minutes to get there. How about nine-fifteen?”

That worked for Anna. It didn't work quite so well for Judith, since she wouldn't be at Hillside Manor to lock up at ten. But time was of the essence. And if Anna was worn out, her defenses might be down.

“You call this dinner?” Gertrude demanded, looking at the tray Judith had brought to her. “I don't recognize anything but the plate.”

“I made a casserole out of the leftover chicken from the other night,” Judith replied. “It has noodles and broccoli and peas in it. That's a cheese sauce for the filling.”

“Cheese sauce?” Gertrude snorted. “It looks like motor oil. What kind of cheese did you use? Part of the moon? It's green.”

“You're looking at the vegetables,” Judith said. “You've got peanut-butter cookies, too.”

“They're stale,” Gertrude asserted. “When did you make them? April?”

“Monday,” Judith responded. “There wouldn't be any left if Renie wasn't allergic to peanuts and Joe hadn't left town. As it is, those are the last three. Mike and the boys love them.”

Gertrude fingered one of the cookies. “Too bad I can't skate anymore. I could use these for hockey
pucks. By the way, do you remember when I was in the Olympics?”

Judith stared at her mother. “As in mountains? Yes, of course. Daddy had his first teaching job in the area.”

“Oh. Sure he did.” But Gertrude looked bewildered. “Maybe they didn't understand.”

“Who?” Judith was feeling as confused as her mother.

“The movie people. I guess they thought I meant I'd been in the Olympic Games, not the Olympic Mountains. Anyways, they've got a part in the script where I won a silver medal in the 1928 Olympics in Amsterdam for the hundred-meter backstroke. I may be great, but I don't remember being that great.”

“You weren't. I mean,” Judith added hastily, “you didn't swim in the Olympics. You'd better tell them to take that out of the script.”

“Yes.” Gertrude rubbed at her wrinkled cheek. “I'll them it was the 1936 Olympics. That was in Berlin, right? Then I could say I beat the pants off of Hitler's Nazi amazons.”

“Why not?” Judith had given up arguing over the accuracy of the script. Apparently, so had Gertrude. Both the writer and the agent had told them that the character of Gertrude—who might actually be called by another name in the film—was a composite of several women who had been part of the Greatest Generation. For all Judith knew, her mother could end up being Eleanor Roosevelt.

Judith left the house at nine after asking Arlene and Carl Rankers to keep an eye on the place. In their typical good-hearted manner, Arlene and Carl readily
agreed to house-sit and to entertain Gertrude. Judith said she owed them—again.

Julio's was an intimate Italian restaurant with valet parking. Arriving first, Judith waited to order. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed before a waiter came over to her corner table and asked if she was Mrs. Flynn. Judith said she was. The waiter asked if she'd please take a telephone call at the maître d's desk.

“I'll bet my friend's still stuck at work,” Judith said to the waiter as he led the way to the front of the restaurant.

The maître d', who was appropriately suave, offered a cordless phone to Judith. “For privacy,
signora,
” he said, pointing to an alcove near the coatroom.

“Grazie,”
Judith replied, proud of herself for remembering the word from her travels in Italy. “Anna?” she said when she reached the alcove. “It's Judith.”

“I can't make it.” The words were rushed and barely audible.

Judith frowned at the near wall, which was decorated with a poster of La Scala in Milan. “Did you say you can't make it? Are you still working?”

“No.” There was a pause. “I'm being followed.”

“
What?
Where are you?”

There was no reply. The phone went dead in Judith's ear.

J
UDITH WAS FLUMMOXED
. There was no Caller ID feature on the phone she'd been given. She hurried back to the maître d', but he was showing a couple to their table. She tried hitting *69 on the cordless phone, but the call had been blocked. Then she looked at the main console on the desk. It did have Caller ID, so she pressed the button. An Eastside number came up. That couldn't be Anna; the area code was outside the city. Judith figured that another customer had phoned the restaurant after Anna called. Going on to the next listing, she saw “Security Screen—000-000-0000.” The time of the call was nine thirty-one. It was now nine thirty-six. The screened call must have come from Anna. Judith swore under her breath, then wondered if she should contact the police.

But what could she tell them? That a dark-haired five-foot-six well-dressed woman in her forties was somewhere downtown and thought she was being followed? That wouldn't do.

Judith had her purse with her. She had gotten her
valet parking stub out of her wallet when the maître d' returned.

“I'm so sorry,” she apologized. “There's been an emergency and we'll have to cancel.”

The maître d' nodded in understanding and was about to say something when Judith bolted through the front door. She handed the parking stub and a ten-dollar bill to the young attendant on duty.

“Hurry, if you can,” she said. “It's an emergency.”

Judith had no idea where the MG had been parked, but it careened around the corner and to the restaurant entrance in less than a minute. Thanking the attendant, she jumped into the car and headed uptown to the large underground parking garage across the street from Nordquist's.

The garage had four floors, each marked by a different Pacific Northwest symbol—a salmon, a deer, a spotted owl, and a wild rhododendron. It was the logical place for Anna to park, since the four-story shopping plaza aboveground was connected to the store by a sky bridge. Anna had mentioned that she wanted to eat at Julio's because it was on the street that led directly to her Hamilton Park neighborhood. Thus, Judith figured, she'd planned to move her car to the restaurant so she could head straight home.

But had Anna called from the parking garage by Nordquist's or from somewhere along the six-block route to the restaurant? Judith had no idea what kind of car Anna drove. Going on ten o'clock, traffic was light, but Judith still couldn't have spotted Anna's vehicle even if she'd known what it looked like. It might be the longest day of the year, but darkness had almost
settled in over the city. Judith's only chance was to ask someone at the garage if they'd seen Ms. French drive out. She must be a regular; somebody ought to have recognized her leaving.

Judith pulled into the valet parking lane. Two attendants were chatting near the curb. The younger one, a Hispanic with a name tag that read
TOMAS
, hurried over to the MG.

Judith gave the young man Anna's name and a brief description.

“Sure,” Tomas replied. “We all know Ms. French on this shift. She works late quite a bit. But no, we haven't seen her drive out.”

“Does she valet park?” Judith asked.

Tomas shook his head. “All the Nordquist employees have a special area on the deer level. They pay by the month. But Ms. French uses the east exit,” he went on, pointing to his right. “I guess that's quicker for her. She probably comes in that way, too.”

Judith thanked the attendant. “She may be having car trouble. Could you notify security? Meanwhile, if you don't mind, I'll drive down to the second level to look for her.”

Tomas grimaced. “We'll have to charge you the minimum.”

“No problem.” With effort, Judith smiled and started down the winding ramp to the deer level.

Since the garage had entrances on both sides of the block, there was some confusion about where one level ended and the other began, not to mention that each level seemed to be split into separate halves. On several occasions, Judith had had problems locating
her car, and Renie had once been forced to ride around on the security guard's cart to find Cammy.

With the stores closed and only the building's movie theaters and restaurants open for business, the parking places were sparsely occupied. Judith realized she was already befuddled when she passed the bank of elevators for the spotted-owl level. She had gone too far. Feeling frustrated and panicky, she managed to get back to the second level. So far, she had seen no one—not even a security guard. The gray concrete walls, floors, ceilings, and pillars struck her as vaultlike, evoking the stone crypts under an ancient cathedral. Even the handful of parked vehicles looked as if they'd been abandoned and should have been shrouded in dust and cobwebs.

She returned to the deer level. Except that it wasn't. She saw the salmon on the door to the elevators and realized she'd somehow missed the second level entirely. Reaching the second floor again, she felt as if the entire garage was full of echoes. But it wasn't just an echo. A car was coming down the ramp behind her. In the rearview mirror, she could see a dark blue—or maybe black—sedan. The windows were tinted. She couldn't tell who was driving.

But she was sure it wasn't Anna. There would be no reason for her to be coming back down into the garage. Judith pulled into a vacant parking place. The sedan—an Infiniti, she noticed—passed by. Slowly. Too slowly. Judith tensed and waited for the car to keep going.

To her relief, it did. Judith slumped over the wheel, gathering her composure. Her quest for Anna seemed doomed. Maybe she'd already left, and the attendants
hadn't noticed. It was absurd to try to find someone in a parking garage that made searching seem like looking for a needle in a haystack. Judith rubbed at her temples where a headache was incubating, and decided to go home. Assuming, of course, she could find her way out.

The thud on the passenger window wrenched a scream from Judith's throat. Anxiously, she looked up and turned to her right. A disheveled Anna French stood next to the MG.

“Let me in! Please!” she cried.

Judith reached over to unlock the passenger door. Anna virtually fell into the bucket seat. “Get us out of here! Quick!”

Judith reversed into the exit lane, driving at a speed most unsuitable for a parking garage. “What happened?” she asked Anna. “Are you okay?”

Anna, who was breathing hard, nodded. “I am now. Or will be, when we're out on the street. Thank God I saw you pull in! I couldn't believe it was really you!”

“It was. It is,” Judith said as they approached the pay box near the exit. Only then did she remember that parking stubs had to be taken to the cashier inside the building. “Damn! We can't get out of here unless we run through the barrier! I don't dare do that in the MG!”

“Here,” Anna said, groping in her handbag. “Use my monthly pass.”

The pass worked. The automated arm swung up. Three seconds later they had exited the garage.

Anna leaned back in the bucket seat. “Oh, my God! That was horrible!”

Rattled, Judith offered to pull over into a loading zone in the next block. “What happened to you?”

“Don't stop! Keep going!”

Judith pressed down on the accelerator and automatically headed for Heraldsgate Hill. “Can you talk about it?” she inquired of Anna.

The other woman nodded. “I walked out of the store and over the sky bridge, like I always do, since our offices are on the top floor. I took the garage elevators down to the second level.”

“Deer, right?” Judith asked, keeping her eye on the rearview mirror. It didn't appear as if anyone was following them, but with normal traffic moving along the same route, she couldn't be sure.

“Yes, deer,” Anna said. “I'd seen a bearded man in that kind of headgear they wear in the Middle East by the elevators before I got in.” She uttered a lame little laugh. “I know, it's silly, but these days you can't help but notice someone who reminds you of a terrorist. It's sad. Naturally, I didn't want to stare.”

To reach the bottom of Heraldsgate Hill, Judith had to change lanes. She noticed that the third car behind her—a sedan—also made the switch. She didn't mention it to Anna. It was probably a coincidence.

“No one else got into the elevator,” Anna continued. “We stopped once to let on some people who got off on the main floor where the cashier is located. By the time I got to the deer level, I glimpsed the bearded man exiting the elevator area. He must have taken one of the other cars and it hadn't had to stop. I didn't think much about it, so I started walking to my car, which is always parked at the far end. Before I got there, I heard
another car start up. I kept going, but before I could get to my parking place, the car came roaring up behind me, veering into the pedestrian walkway. I ducked behind one of the pillars, thinking that whoever it was must be drunk. I waited for the car to keep going, but it suddenly stopped and reversed. It was slowing down. I ran around the other side of the aisle and headed for the elevators.” Anna paused and sat up straight. “I was scared. I hadn't seen a security guard anywhere. There's an emergency phone by the elevators, but when I picked it up and pressed the button, nobody answered. I looked out into the lot and the car had stopped again. I pushed one of the elevator buttons, and luckily, the doors opened right away. I got in and poked the first button I could hit. Unfortunately, it was for the third level. I didn't know what to do. That's when I called the restaurant. Then I tried 911, but the battery had gone out on my phone, probably just as I hung up from talking to you. Oh, God, it was awful!”

Judith had turned onto the street that led up to Heraldsgate Hill. The sedan was still behind her, keeping its distance. But she still didn't mention the possible tail to Anna.

Instead, she interrupted Anna with a question. “There's a fire station at the top of Heraldsgate Hill. Shall we go there to report what happened?”

Anna emphatically shook her head. “No. Not now. I just want to get home. I'll call from there. In fact, I'll call Phil right now. Do you have a cell?”

“It's in my purse,” Judith replied. “Dig down as far as you can. It's always at the bottom.”

“After that, it was cat and mouse,” Anna said, delving into Judith's handbag. “I wasn't thinking properly. I felt dizzy and confused. I should have gone up to the main floor, but all I could think of was reaching my car and getting the hell out of there. I was still ducking and running when I spotted you. I didn't recognize your car, of course, but I could see you in the driver's seat. I couldn't believe you'd come to rescue me. It seemed like a miracle.”

“It seemed like the thing to do,” Judith replied. “Was the car a dark sedan with tinted windows?”

Anna nodded. “I'm not even sure if the driver was the man with the beard. Whoever it was started to open the car door just as I got into the elevator, but I didn't wait to see who got out. I was too terrified.”

“Naturally,” said Judith, though her attention was distracted by the sedan that wasn't going away. She couldn't take a chance on whether the driver was an innocent or a villain. The hill was honeycombed with dead ends and winding streets that would eventually lead her in the direction of Anna's Hamilton Park address. Thus she avoided Heraldsgate Avenue, heading instead for the main street on the east side of the hill. Anna seemed too caught up in figuring out how to use Judith's phone to notice the strange route.

“I'm so muddled I can't remember my own phone number,” she exclaimed in frustration. “I'll call Phil on his cell. He always leaves it on in case of a business emergency.”

Fillmore Street was wide, a good place to pick up speed. Halfway up, Judith shifted down, gunned the engine, and without signaling, turned up a side street
that went in two directions at the top. Instead of going straight ahead, she took a sharp turn to the right. If the sedan had followed her, the uphill climb was so short and so steep that the driver couldn't see where she'd gone. On the flat, she took a left, racing up another hill for two blocks, then taking a right. Changing gears on the level ground, she zipped along the residential thoroughfare until she had to stop at an arterial. To her relief, no one was behind her.

Anna had gotten in touch with her husband. “I can't explain right now,” she told Phil, “but I'm on my way home. A…friend is driving me. And no, I didn't wreck the car. I'll tell you everything when I see you.”

Judith had reached the six-way stop that led onto the bridge. “Is he upset?” she asked.

“Worried,” Anna replied, returning the cell phone to Judith's purse. “He probably thinks I had a crisis at work.” She took a deep breath. “That was some piece of driving! Do you always go so fast in this MG?”

“Never,” Judith admitted. “It belongs to my husband. I'm scared to death to drive it at all, but we've been followed since leaving the garage. I lost whoever it was on the side of the hill.”

“No!” Anna swiveled around, looking out the rear window. “All I see now is a Jeep. I should have guessed.”

Judith took her turn at the arterial. “I know how to get to Hamilton Park. Once we're there, you can tell me how to find your condo. Don't forget to call the police right away. Morris and Trash—the detectives handling the case—probably won't be on duty. But the homicide squad will want to know what hap
pened so they can pass it on to the investigating officers. I'm going to call, too, after I get back to Hillside Manor.”

“Hillside Manor?” Anna looked at Judith. “Oh—that's right. You run a B & B. I know that from your FATSO Web site.”

“Yes,” Judith replied. “It's questionable advertising for an innkeeper.”

“Some people say any advertising is good advertising,” Anna remarked. She shivered. “But a Nordquist buyer being chased by a lunatic wouldn't be good for the store's image. We're all about
nice.
”