I SAID GOOD-BYE to Officer Smiley and drove off, trying not to think about the nose prints that Walter was making on my pristine passenger-side windows. I couldn’t believe he’d made himself comfortable on the driver’s side instead of the nicely protected seat I’d assigned to him. Even though I’d relocated him to his proper place, he kept trying to worm his way back to my side. I hoped he couldn’t create too much chaos in the time it would take to get back to Harrison Falls. At least he wasn’t snuffling and missing his new best friend with the suspicious smile.
I was desperate to get the dog into someplace that wasn’t my car. And I needed to get back to searching for the Christie manuscript and seeing what I could dig up about Merlin. Of course, I knew that Karen’s attack was connected even if I couldn’t figure out how.
When I opened the door to Michael Kelly’s Fine Antiques, the bell jingled, Walter lurched ahead of me as if this were the best place ever, and Uncle Mick didn’t even blink.
As usual, it would take more than the unexpected arrival of a strange, and strange-looking, dog to throw Uncle Mick off his stride.
“Very practical, my girl. We’ll put him to work keeping out the thieves,” Mick said.
Walter had not the slightest talent in that direction, but I kept that thought to myself as well as the related thought that the thieves were all on the inside. You have to be careful with relatives.
Of course, the next time the door jingled and the long arm of the law appeared, Uncle Mick almost blinked. Really. I saw it with my own eyes.
“Tyler Dekker,” my new nemesis said, giving Uncle Mick what looked like a very firm handshake. Did I detect a flinch from my uncle? “Jordan’s told me so much about you. It’s a real pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Kelly.” He turned toward Uncle Lucky, now looming silently in the doorway to the back room, eyes narrowed. Uncle Lucky shook his head in what I assumed was astonishment.
I turned and mouthed, “I didn’t tell them a thing.”
Officer Smiley moved briskly across the crowded shop to the back door. “And you must be Uncle Lucky. Great to meet you.” He shook Lucky’s hand vigorously.
Uncle Lucky stared at his hand as if someone had squeezed a caterpillar into it.
I barely managed not to yelp, “I’ve been framed.” I was definitely going to have some explaining to do, although I had no idea how to explain it.
Smiley glanced around the shop. “Great little business you got going here.”
I felt doomed.
Fortunately, Officer Smiley couldn’t stay long, and Uncle Mick and Uncle Lucky seemed to recover.
“Not my fault,” I said as soon as the door closed behind him. “And there’s no need for a lecture if you are thinking of that. I am not encouraging him in any way, and I am certainly not talking about any of the Kellys to him. I never gave him your names. I don’t know what he’s up to, and whatever it is, I don’t like it either.”
With that settled, except for a number of wounded looks, I decided to get about my business. First, Karen’s phone. Of course, it was useless. Too far away from the base.
At least I got a serving of canned chicken noodle soup from Uncle Mick for lunch. He served it with pop-up dinner rolls—a culinary triumph. Perhaps that meant all was not lost in the family department. Unlike Officer Smiley, Walter was a hit with the Kellys. This came as a serious surprise to me because my uncles had never had a pet. I had never had a pet, even though I’d wept and pleaded for one as a child. But Walter had his own lunch, which was exactly like mine, only served in a bowl on the floor. I wasn’t sure what the vet would say, but then again, the vet wasn’t there.
When I was finished, I said, “I have to go back to Sal. He’s kind of let me down.”
They exchanged glances.
“It’s not good to push Sal,” Mick said.
“Not pushing, just bringing him up to speed. Thanks for lunch. Now, can you help me ditch the cop? He can only go in one direction at a time.”
Nothing would give either of them greater pleasure. Ten minutes later, with my blue Saab still sitting conspicuously in front of Michael Kelly’s Fine Antiques, Uncle Mick drove off in the white van of the same name. He headed west toward the interstate with Walter sitting in the passenger seat looking out the window, snorting and expecting adventure.
Immediately after, Uncle Lucky got into his classic Town Car and headed east. At about the same time, I took a few moments to change back into my original outfit: wide-leg dark denim trousers with a sharp white tee and Uncle Mick’s poor boy hat, and lip gloss, of course. I let myself out the back door. I sauntered two doors down to the garage where the uncles keep an extra vehicle for exactly this type of situation. It was an unremarkable Ford Focus wagon in faded black. I figured Officer Smiley would be either watching for me to emerge from the store and get into my own car, or he’d be following one of my uncles assuming that I was in that vehicle. That’s what I would have done in his shoes.
I headed back downtown to Sal’s and parked a block past the office. I arrived to find that Sal was his sartorially splendid self. I was glad I’d changed.
“Sorry to arrive on short notice,” I said, accepting the double-cheek kisses. “Circumstances are evolving and I need to deal with them.”
Sal would know about evolving circumstances. Dealing with them was how he stayed in business, whatever that business was.
We sat in the green leather club chairs, facing each other.
“Merlin,” I said.
Sal raised a well-groomed eyebrow.
“Does that ring a bell?”
He shrugged his elegant shoulders.
“You see, my contact who was going to give me information about the manuscript I am seeking was badly injured just before she was supposed to meet with me.”
A furrow appeared between Sal’s eyebrows. I figured this was high emotion for him.
“Who is this contact?”
I explained about Karen and what had taken me to the hall Sunday evening. Had it been only last night? I felt like I’d lived a week in one day.
“So you don’t think it was just a random robbery.”
I continued. “I believe it’s all connected. I think the person left her for dead. I may have been set up. The police think I had something to do with it, and I am being followed everywhere. Did I ever mention that the man who had my job previously was probably murdered?”
“And this Merlin is involved?” Sal said.
“Yes. I have heard that someone named Merlin might be the person behind the object of Vera Van Alst’s desire.”
He nodded. “And Merlin would be?”
“I don’t know. I think a fraudster, a con artist or possibly a thief. Now maybe a killer. Or he’s doing something to cause a killer to act. I thought with your connections in the world of, um, business, you might be able to help me out with information that will lead to him.”
Sal reached forward and took my hand. That gave new meaning to the word “unnerving.” “Jordan, my dear. I think you should back away from this one.”
“Thanks for the advice, Sal, but I really can’t. It’s my job, and Miss Van Alst will fire me if I don’t keep going.”
“Maybe you have to walk away from the job too.”
Oh boy. I didn’t think that Sal would understand how I felt about my perfect cabbage rose garret and the fabulous collection of books, the amazing meals and my opportunity to drive around in my Saab tracking down books while looking like vintage money. So I said, “It’s a matter of honor.”
I would have added “principle,” but I wasn’t sure it would carry any weight. Honor, now, that was different.
Sal nodded. “You are going to have to be very careful.”
I took a deep breath. “So you know something about this Merlin then?”
“I know nothing about him. Nothing at all. But there is one person dead and another one injured and you are connected to both of them. This is not something that happens every day in business. I have known you all your life, Jordan, and I would not like any harm to come to you. You must think of your family, your uncles. They lost your mother before her time. How would they feel if something happened to you? Do you not feel this responsibility?”
I hadn’t been feeling it up until that minute. I worried about my family running into trouble of one kind or another, not me.
“I’ll be careful,” I said. “Really.”
“It won’t be easy watching out for someone when you have no idea who he may be. Or as these are modern times, perhaps Merlin is a she.”
“I take your point. I won’t do anything risky. But I would appreciate any information you can find for me.” I felt a bit of déjà vu. Hadn’t this visit been essentially the same as the first one, with the exception of the information about Karen Smith? I was surprised that Sal, who had a finger on everything going on in the state, had come up empty.
Sal got to his custom-shod feet and adjusted his impeccable jacket.
“I will see what I can find out. I can dig a little deeper.”
I shivered. That phrase always makes me think of graveyards.
I was still feeling the chill as I left Sal’s office and climbed into my decoy Focus. I looked in every direction but didn’t see anyone or anything that looked unusual. Just in case, though, I made about two dozen unnecessary turns and drove down a few extra alleyways before I decided the coast was clear.
No sign of my new shadow.
* * *
MY CHALLENGE WAS to get into Karen’s house for a good long search without getting myself either murdered or arrested. Avoiding these fates didn’t seem as easy as it once had been. I lacked allies. My uncles could help protect me, of course, but with their track record it wouldn’t be good news if anyone in authority came across them where they didn’t belong. Tiff might as well have been on the moon. Vera Van Alst would have her own planet. I wasn’t sure what Officer Smiley was up to, and I was really hoping that he’d stay in Harrison Falls where he belonged. My school friends had pretty much all left the area. I had the dog, of course, but he seemed happy with my uncles, and I was pretty sure he’d need more protection than he’d give. Of course, my uncles had always advised me, don’t do what they expect. It was good advice if you could figure out what it meant.
In this case, I had an idea, and I decided to act before anyone watching caught on to the fact that while my Saab was parked outside the antiques store, I was not parked inside the shop.
I headed for the police headquarters (such as it was) in Grandville. I marched in and asked to speak to the officers who had attended the reported break-in at Karen Smith’s home. To my astonishment, they showed up within ten minutes and parked their black-and-white in front of the station. Grandville is a quiet town. No question about that.
I went out to meet them, smiling as though my face might break. “I hope you remember me. I was at Karen Smith’s place when you came along. I need to get back in, but I am very worried that whoever broke in might return. Might even be watching the place.” This was true enough. I added, “I need to get a few things for her in the hospital, a nightie, and toiletries. The poor woman is going to be desperate. Can you help me?”
The first one scratched his head. “Why are you asking us?”
“I need protection. And I don’t want anyone else to call the police on me. You see my problem.”
“What about your friend? The guy from Harrison Falls?”
“He’s been called in to work. And this is your town. Do you need to ask permission or something? I’m not in a hurry. I can wait if you do.”
Of course they didn’t need permission, and would never have admitted it to a civilian if they did. They swaggered off to their car, and I followed in my invisible Focus.
Shortly afterward, we arrived back at Karen Smith’s. Luckily the officers were easily distracted. As they went ahead into the back office area of the shop, I produced the empty soda can full of change that I’d been carrying. I threw it at the farthest part of the first-floor shop. I was taught this trick by Tiff. It was supposed to be useful when encountering bears in the woods or dealing with drunken, groping frat boys. Shock and awe, with a zero percent chance of casualties. As they investigated the rolling clatter, it bought me enough time to head upstairs and slip the receiver back on the cradle in the living room and let it recharge. Meanwhile, I went into the bedroom and selected what I thought Karen might want when she woke up. I didn’t want to think if she woke up. I found a small overnight case and filled it with the usual stuff: toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant, face cream, two nighties, slippers and clean underwear. I also put together an outfit that she could wear when, not if, she came home. I figured the clothes she’d been found in would be sitting in the evidence room at the cop shop. As I gathered up everything, I checked each surface and under the bed, behind chairs, everywhere I could think of, searching for a clue to anybody she’d contacted recently. I knew that whatever she’d found out for me, it had to have been within the last day and a half as I hadn’t even met her before Saturday. I found nothing. No messages. No notes. No scribbled telephone numbers. Nothing. Well, a note to herself. Buy dog food was scrawled on a napkin from Yummers, the concession at the book fair. I felt a little light go on over my head. That girl at the book fair, as mopey and dopey as she was, had a unique perspective because of her location. She could see everybody who came and went, and my guess was that most people bought something from her: coffee, water, rancid Danishes. Best of all, she had a clear view of Karen’s booth. She was in touch, but not in the same business. But how could I reach her? Would the people at Saint Sebastian’s have a contact? Would one of the vendors at the fair?
When I heard the cops arrive upstairs, I stepped into the living room.
“Nobody down there,” they said, sounding quite disappointed. I said to them, “That’s good, but I think I’d better go check the basement windows to see if they’re secure. Just in case. Maybe a person could get access that way.”
“We’ll do that,” the first cop said, putting me in my civilian place. As soon as they’d swaggered down the stairs, I picked up the receiver, which had recharged enough to use it. Karen had called only one number on Sunday, and she’d received only one call. As the cops didn’t show any signs of coming back yet, I called that number. No answer. It rang and rang. Someone with no services, I supposed. Or someone who wouldn’t answer the second line if they were on the phone. Then I tried again.
“Hello?” I said, when I heard the sound of a pickup at the other end. “I’d like to speak to you about Karen Smith. You called her yesterday.”
Well, thanks for that dial tone, dude.
I tried the number again. A male voice answered. He didn’t seem happy to get a call. I hesitated briefly and decided to go for it. I said, “May I speak with Merlin, please?”
“Who is this?”
I hesitated again. I didn’t want to tell the truth, but I had to pick the right lie. “I am a friend of Karen Smith’s. Who is this?”
“Why are you calling here?”
“I believe Karen spoke to you yesterday. I’d like to know what it was about.”
“I didn’t speak to her.”
“Your number is on her telephone. Someone called.”
A pause. “Are you calling from her house?”
Okay, this was tricky, but might flush him out. “I am.”
“I told you I didn’t speak to her. Don’t call here again.”
I listened to the dial tone. I was about to copy down the number when I heard the officers call out. On an impulse, I pocketed the receiver. It was time to head to the living room. The officers were already back upstairs and getting restless.
“That will do it,” I said, smiling brightly. “I have everything I need. I appreciate you both helping me. I would have been very nervous here alone.”
They both managed to look a bit bashful. That might have been cute if they weren’t cops.
Outside, they asked about my vintage Saab. “Waiting outside the shop,” I said, truthfully. “Sometimes I wish I was a mechanic,” I added. That was true too. Sometimes. They nodded in understanding, and we all waved as we drove away. I took my invisible Focus around the block. High fences with sprawling vines, clumps of lilac, and tall cedar hedges made this street pretty, but also private and perfect for hanging around unseen. I returned and backed the car into the driveway of the house next door. I angled the car so I could see through the yew hedge without being too noticeable myself. No one was home, judging by the flyers sticking out of the mailbox. This couldn’t have been the neighbor who’d called the cops. I hoped they would continue to stay away wherever they were. I wanted to be able to get out of the neighborhood quickly in case I needed to. I adjusted the poor boy hat, locked the car doors, slouched down in the seat and waited.
The minutes seemed like hours, but according to the clock on the dash of the Focus, it was less than a quarter of an hour later when I spotted a vehicle turning onto the street. A battered red pickup crept along past Karen’s house. I thought it was a Ford, but that was just a guess. Trucks are not one of my interests, even vintage ones. The truck rolled along and parked two doors down. That was exactly the type of trick I was employing, so I wasn’t really taken in by it. The person lumbered along, hugging the overhanging lilacs and vines. I couldn’t really see a face because he also had a baseball cap pulled low, but it was definitely a man and he seemed to have a limp. And I couldn’t make out the license plate on the truck, mainly because of the shadows and the distance. I squinted, straining to see while at the same time trying to remain as invisible as my temporary car.
I was distracted by another car turning into the driveway across the street.
In the time it took to turn and glance, the lumbering, limping truck guy had turned into the path toward Karen’s backyard and, I figured, the door leading to her apartment. I’d missed seeing his face.
Now what?
I was pretty sure that my phone calls from Karen Smith’s place had led to this guy’s arrival.
At that moment a whoop! cut through the air and a police black-and-white careened onto the street and parked, angled, blocking the path to Karen’s backyard. As I sat there with my mouth open, a familiar cop bounced out, leaving his driver’s-side door open. I heard him yell something. I rolled down the window—the Focus didn’t have automatic anything—to hear better. As my own personal officer Smiley hurtled down the pathway, I spotted the truck guy pull himself to the top of the chain-link fence behind the lilacs and drop to the other side. He might have been sinister and he might have had a limp, but he was definitely in good shape. Officer Smiley did not return. I sat there scowling, trying to figure out what kind of hornet’s nest I had stirred up. About two minutes later, I spotted a figure limp along the sidewalk, leap into the pickup and screech down the street.
Fifteen minutes later, Officer Smiley still hadn’t returned.
Was he all right? Had the truck driver injured him? From what I’d seen, that didn’t seem possible. The guy had practically catapulted over the fence. But where was Smiley? There was nothing to do in the backyard, so the obvious answer was, in Karen’s apartment. Why was less obvious. And winning the prize for least obvious was, why was he here in Grandville again?
I started up the Focus. Lucky me, I still had Karen’s receiver and it was close enough to her apartment to work. I made a 911 call and said nothing when it was picked up. I hung up, wiped off the receiver, tossed it into the neighbor’s koi pond and drove off, leaving Officer Smiley to explain himself. It was only much later that I realized that I should have copied down the telephone number I had dialed earlier, in Karen’s apartment.
* * *
I EASED THE car into my dusky parking area at the rear of the Van Alst house. I spied a note taped to the door and was focusing on it intently, stepping through the threshold of the back entrance, when Eddie, the mailman, appeared behind me. For that scary surprise he very nearly got a sharp kick in the shins.
“Jorduff, caan I spweechwff chew?” Eddie mumbled incoherently.
At first, I thought he might be drunk. Then I noticed the huge biscotti in his hand.
“Sorry.” He swiped at the crumbs spraying past his lips. “I was waiting for you when Fiammetta ambushed me with snacks.”
He held the homemade treat as evidence and smiled meekly.
I put down my bag and stepped back outside with Eddie. The early evening was casting heavy fuchsia shadows. He seemed shifty and nervous about being in the open. Perhaps he feared the ninja-like Signora Panetone would cram more biscotti into his empty mouth.
He looked me square in the eye and drew a long breath.
I would not have described this as a threatening situation, but I was very uncomfortable. “What is it about, Eddie?” I figured not a postal issue.
Eddie seemed to get even jumpier and edged away from me now, pressing himself into a forsythia bush as if to stay out of sight. Who was he hiding from? Vera? The signora? Eddie began to sputter quickly. “You had better be more careful, Jordan. Not, not, not just for your sake, but Vera’s too. She’s all alone out here.”
All alone out here? She was surrounded by paid helpers in a house with excellent security. Anyone who got past the gardener, the coded security system, Fiammetta and the damn cat, not to mention Eddie and me, would have to contend with Vera herself, who was about as helpless as a bear. On the other hand, she did live in a house that still held valuables, including her collection. How long would it take the police to get all the way out here if there were a break-in?
As if to answer my unspoken question, Eddie said, “The police would take ten minutes, minimum, to get here.”
Of course, Officer Smiley seemed to be able to teleport himself, but if he wasn’t available, the ten minute estimate was probably true, even optimistic. I was keenly aware that I was also “all alone out here” at the edge of town. Eddie’s nervous behavior was unsettling me. Was he on something? He certainly was twitching, and also he’d been hiding in a forsythia bush, which seemed unusual. But what did I know of the strange people connected with the Van Alst house?
“Just watch yourself!” Was he threatening me? I wasn’t particularly scared, but I was so frazzled, my instincts were suffering, but not so much that I couldn’t snap a picture of him with my iPhone.
That seemed to make him even jumpier. Whatever it was he’d been trying to accomplish, he gave up, darted ahead of me and slunk off into the house, shaking his head.
What the heck was that?
I stepped into the back entrance and shut the door on anyone else who might be lurking in the bushes. I started up the stairs, uncrumpling the note I hadn’t had a chance to read yet.
I would like to speak with you at my earliest convenience. That would be at dinner. Please bring your notes and research.
Sincerely,
Vera Van Alst
Oh yeah, that. I’d been so busy trying to figure out what was going on with all the people around me, I’d forgotten why I’d been speaking to them in the first place. Not for the first time, I asked myself what kind of mailman comes to your house at seven p.m.
This place was starting to give me the willies, and I guess, the Eddies too.