When You're Expecting Something Else (17 page)

When I pull into the restaurant’s gravel parking lot, I’m thrilled to see Stan waiting for me.
Lakeside Bobs
isn’t much more than a shack with gray weathered siding and old windows. Picnic tables are scattered in front, but Stan guides me to a seating area in the back by the lake, facing west, where huge boulders frame the view. Sunlight casts an orange glow to the side of the rocks. Reflections in the water double its effect.
  

“Wine or beer?” Stan asks, leading me to the only empty picnic table. I give him my wine order. “Wait here, I’ll get our drinks.” When he returns, he hands me a plastic glass of Chablis, the house white wine. He slugs Sierra Nevada beer from the bottle. “They have chicken or ribs in the basket when you get hungry.”

We sit side by side on the picnic bench, hardly talking, and watch the sun disappear below the horizon. “So, what’d you do today after lunch?” he asks conversationally.

I tell him about seeing Jared and talking to Maggie, seeing Dr. Matthews, and what Jared said about Aunt Margaret. “I think he’s being over medicated, too. Something feels bad about the whole thing, but I hardly know the guy, so I’m not sure how to interpret anything.”

Stan listens silently for a long time while I ramble on about my gut feelings. “Well,” he all but drawls, “I don’t know Jared, and I hardly know you, but I do know about gut instinct, and from what you’re telling me things don’t add up. It sounds like Jared could easily be victimized in his kind of circumstances. You planning to talk more to Maggie, try to get to the bottom of it?”

“I feel like I have to. Jared said to help Maggie. He said it as clear as day. I plan to call her tonight and tell her about seeing Jared.”

“Better call her now. The time change is three hours and you might want to catch her before it gets too late,” he says. “I’ll go order some food. You want chicken or ribs?”

Suddenly ravenous, my mouth waters for barbecued chicken. I call Maggie while Stan places our order. Maggie sounds more composed than when I talked with her earlier. Her voice becomes loud and wild when I tell her what Jared said about me helping her, and that I thought maybe he was being over medicated.

“I called Bradley Lawton earlier. He says that Jared’s in good hands with Dr. Matthews, but says Jared’s house was being used for a party last night. I’m worried sick. I’m coming out tomorrow afternoon. Are you really willing to help me sort things out?” she asks.

I assure her that I will. We make plans for me to pick her up at Norman Mineta International Airport in San Jose at three-forty tomorrow afternoon. When Stan comes back, he’s balancing a basket of chicken, fries and coleslaw for me, ribs, fries, and beans for himself. He goes back for seconds on wine and beer, and then we settle down to eat and talk.

We sit together at the picnic table until long after the sun is gone. A crescent moon glows against black sky where countless glittering stars twinkle against the backdrop. Stan holds my hand. He tells me he’s originally from Texas, which explains his slight drawl.

“You’re something else,” he says gently. “You care about things and people. So many of the women I meet only seem to care about themselves and material things. I hope I’m not being too forward, saying it too soon, but I really like you Connie Harrison.
 
I want to see a lot more of you.”

Color me happy!

Chapter Nineteen

Bradley Lawton tossed and turned with the promise of a sleepless night. He knew something was wrong, just didn’t know what, and he definitely didn’t know what to do about it. Maggie Martin had called him earlier to discuss Jared and her worries. Jared had no Aunt Margaret, yet this Aunt Margaret had supposedly hired a whole team of healthcare professionals to take care of him, even provided the hospital with all the right paperwork and documentation. How was that possible?

“What’s wrong, honey?” Bradley’s wife woke up and turned to face him. “Are you worried about
Blue Kettle
without Jared?”

“I’m worried about Jared,” he said. He liked to protect Kelly and the girls from his worries, but this was different. Once he started talking he couldn’t stop.
 
He told her everything he knew: About the party atmosphere at Jared’s house the night before, how pale and listless Jared looked with his bandages and medical equipment, about the mystery of Aunt Margaret, and even about the nurse Jared had been in the accident with.

Kelly sat up in bed. “Wow, that is all very troublesome. I thought you said you believed Jared was in good hands with Mark as his neurologist.”

“That was before I talked to Maggie, before she talked to Connie Harrison. She’s the nurse Jared was in the accident with. Apparently, Connie called her back after she saw Jared. She thinks he’s being over medicated,” he said.

“On purpose? She thinks Jared is being overmedicated on purpose? Now, that adds a whole new dimension to this whole scenario… like evil... evil preys on the vulnerable…” Kelly whispered, shivering slightly.

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Bradley said, pulling her close.

“I’m wondering about Shannon Tanner now. You know I don’t approve of her arrangement with Jared, but how does she fit into this whole picture? Shouldn’t she be checking up on Jared?” Kelly asked, wondering now about Jared’s casual friend and sexual partner.

“You’d think,” Bradley said. “Maggie’s coming in tomorrow and meeting with Connie Harrison. I’ll try to get a hold of Shannon before hand, see if she knows anything.” He paused, deep in thought. “Art Wilkinson called earlier today, too. He left a message on my voice mail. I’ll call him back tomorrow. He plays tennis with Jared.”

Bradley pulled Kelly closer. “I wish you weren’t so judgmental about Jared and Shannon. They’re consenting adults and it works for them. Now, let’s both of us try to get some sleep.”

*****

Maggie Martin calls me when she arrives at Norman Mineta International Airport. It’s three-forty exactly. I only live ten minutes away. “I’ve arrived,” she says.

“I’ll be right there. I’ll be in a red Honda Accord,” I say, rattling off my license plate number. “I’m wearing a bright yellow shirt, in case my car is hard to see.”

Everything goes like clockwork. Maggie wheels her two large designer bags curbside just as I pull up. I jump out of my car so she can see my bright yellow shirt. She’s wearing the pale blue pantsuit she’s described to me. We recognize each other instantly, make brief introductions, and then together we hoist her two large suitcases into my trunk.

“I have a room booked at The University Inn in downtown Palo Alto. It’s not far from Jared’s. Why don’t we go there first so I can check in. We can talk before going over to see Jared.” Maggie barely takes a breath, and then adds, “I can’t thank you enough for helping me. I know something is very wrong.”

We ride along in companionable silence for the first few miles. Maggie looks much younger than I expected, and it throws me off. “How are you related to Jared? I know you told me, but tell me again.” I expected more of a motherly figure. Maggie looks more like she could be Jared’s older sister. She’s very pretty.

“I was hired to be Jared’s babysitter when he was five. After his parents died. I was young myself then, barely eighteen. I raised Jared while his grandfather worked until they moved out here to Atherton when Jared was seventeen. We were all in the Boston area. I didn’t come out with them. By then Jared was old enough to be on his own,” Maggie explains. She’s older than she looks. I hope I look that good when I’m her age.

“And you’re still in touch with him regularly?” I persist, not meaning to sound suspicious, but there’s still so much I don’t know about Jared. I want to be sure, and I don’t want to be suckered into any more mystery than already exists.

“Pretty much. We talk by phone once a week or so, and send emails back and forth, but Jared gets sidetracked sometimes. He can be absent-minded like his grandfather when he gets going on a design. That’s why time got away from me. I thought it odd that Jared wasn’t calling me or returning my calls or emails, but in some ways, that’s how he is, both dependable and unreliable all rolled into one.”

Makes sense, I think.

“You said you were in the accident with Jared. Tell me what happened?”

“Well, it all happened very fast. I had just met Jared the night before. He was taking me to Stanford to show me some artwork, some sculptures there. Jared swerved so as not to hit a bicycle rider. That’s all I remember about it.”

“So, you and Jared were dating?” she asks.

“We’d really only just met,” I say again, hesitantly, this being territory I don’t really want to get into. I’m ashamed for having gotten drunk and allowing Jared into my bed that night. I don’t want to slip and reveal that information to anyone.

“Here we are,” Maggie says, pointing to her hotel when we arrive. I pull into the circular driveway where a uniformed bellhop immediately appears to take Maggie’s luggage. Maggie follows him inside to register while I wait in the car. Minutes later, she’s back in the passenger seat.

“Let’s get some coffee. There’s a nice coffee shop down on University Ave. We can talk there. I’ve arranged for Bradley Lawton and a man named Art Wilkinson to meet us there. They’re both friends of Jared. I’ve met Bradley before, but not Art.

Suddenly, I get the feeling that Maggie doesn’t quite trust me yet. That’s okay because she hasn’t earned my trust yet, either.

*****

Stanley Miller gets up from his computer, goes into the small condo kitchen, and returns to his desk with a cup of coffee and a box vanilla cookies. He can’t get Connie Harrison out of his mind. She’s such a cute, young gal, and so sweet, and she was so worried about this fellow Jared, who’d been in the accident with her. Jared Wise is
 
a familiar sounding name.

He types the name into his
people search
engine. As an investigative reporter he has tools of the trade the ordinary guy wouldn’t likely have. At times he’s felt like he has more resources available to him than the federal government because private industry doesn’t have the same restrictions as the feds.