I called Jacob Green at exactly eight o'clock in the morning. He wasn't in. A disappointment, but no surprise. I knew he'd call me back. Then I left for my house and office, determined to get some work done. I had to, since I might be leaving soon -- if Paul got his way. I hadn't agreed to anything, but suspicions regarding why he suddenly felt I needed to leave were taking on overtones of every bad thriller movie I'd ever seen. It was conceivable I could rearrange my vacation time and do the two weeks in Montana sooner than later.
My parents' excursion to Victoria was a blessing. I would be undisturbed. I needed to put my anxiety over Beth Anne's letters and Paul's response to them aside and focus on how I could use Jonathan's letter. This felt a lot like my recent training problems with Blackie. I needed to focus on just where I planned on going and hope the other problems would be solved in the process.
At exactly noon my phone rang. It was Mr. Green, and he was his usual chipper, energetic self. His deep voice boomed through the telephone in a friendly greeting.
"Haven't found any more bodies, have you?"
"Well, sort of," I said.
"Uh oh."
"Yeah, much more of this and I'm changing my name to 'Miss Marple.'"
He whooped a laugh. "Say, did that woman have a first name?"
"I believe it was 'Jane.'"
"Ha! My wife's name. Doesn't suit you, though. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"
I explained the reason for my call. He had heard of Andrew's murder, of course, but was not familiar with the circumstances of the fossil thefts. Then I told him about Jonathan's letters to Whitaker and Paul. Much to my surprise, Mr. Green chuckled.
"He doesn't quite have the finesse down, has he?"
"I don't follow you," I said, miffed he would find this amusing.
"Mr. Woods. Sounds like he was trying to use connections to make himself look good and it backfired. Now he's trying to recover some status. I doubt he had anything to do with your boyfriend being suspected by the police."
"You don't think Jonathan's letter had anything to do with framing Paul?"
"Well, I won't say someone didn't use the letter, but it could have been any letter, if I understand you correctly, since there are regular requests for purchases."
"Don't you think there's a connection between Jonathan's letter and the fact the police were looking for that specific fossil in Paul's apartment and my house?" I wasn't going to tell him the fossil was actually at my house.
"Well, sure, but until we talk to the police we won't know if it was just coincidence or something more."
We agreed he'd pick up the letter from Andrea, give it to Detective Ross and I'd tell him what I'd learned.
"I'll give you a call after I talk to Ross. If you're free this afternoon we can probably meet at the P.D."
I changed into a plain, white summer skirt, floral print sleeveless top and sandals. Then I styled my hair, took some care with my makeup and stepped back from the mirror to study the effect. Good. A take-me-seriously outfit, without being too serious, or too take-me.
At a quarter of four I met Jacob Green at the Seattle P.D. North Precinct Station on College Way. I spotted the tall, wiry man the moment I pulled into the parking lot. He hadn't changed since I'd seen him last April. In fact, I think he was wearing the same ill-fitting, mossy brown suit. He waved and flashed his have-I-got-a-deal-for-you smile, then went back to jiggling the change in his pants pocket and rocking heel to toe while waiting for me to lock up and join him. If I didn't know he was one of the top criminal trial lawyers in the state, I'd have thought he was going inside the P.D. to be booked for selling cars with no engines.
"Got your letter right here." He patted the front of his jacket. "That Andrea Anderson sure is a nice gal. I'd ask her out to lunch if I didn't know my secretary'd tell my missus." He winked at me.
I'd have to be sure to tell Andrea about her good luck next time I saw her.
Detective Perschke was the first person I saw when we walked in. He grinned when he saw Green, and ambled over. He was better dressed than the older man, insofar as his slacks weren't an inch too short and his jacket's sleeves covered his wrists.
"Hey, Jake, how's it going?" He shook Green's hand and gave me a lightning quick once-over.
"Real good, Bill. You get to the Mariners' game last week?"
"Yeah, great game, too bad you couldn't make it. Thanks for the tickets. I owe you."
Huh. Baseball buddies.
He turned his attention to me. "It's Thea Campbell, right?"
"Yes." What a likeable guy.
"Did they ever get the trim painted on that house across the street from you?"
"Purple and yellow," I said, grimacing.
"Jeez, there ought to be a law. That's got to be a jolt every morning when you go out to get the paper."
"For my parents. They've been staying at my house for the past week."
"Oh, that's right, I heard." He scanned the lobby. "Did your mother come with you today?"
"No, you're safe," I said.
I spotted Detective Ross down the hall. He paused for a brief word with a uniformed officer, then continued toward us, his stride unrushed. Mr. Green extended his hand as he reached us and he shook it.
"Good to see you, Jake," Ross smiled. They all knew each other. I should have guessed. "Miss Campbell." He extended his hand to me, but his gaze scanned the lobby. "Is your . . .?"
"No, Mother's not here," I finished, accepting his handshake. "You're safe."
"Purple and yellow, Dave," Perschke said to Ross, giving him a light punch on the shoulder. "Pay up."
Ross winced and pulled out his wallet, handing Perschke a ten dollar bill.
I darted a shocked look from one man to the other. "You're betting on the color of the trim on my neighbor's house?" No one even glanced at me, much less answered.
"I'll bet you knew you lost days ago." Perschke grinned. "In fact, I'll bet I never would have found out if Miss Campbell hadn't shown up and told me."
Ross grunted. If grunts could sound sarcastic, that one certainly did. "Get me a grande -- triple, light on the chocolate. And I want the change this time."
Okay, so the ante was espresso drinks, but still … they needed to get a life if they had to resort to betting on house colors, no matter how peculiar, for entertainment.
"Let's go where we can talk," Ross said to Mr. Green and me.
We followed Ross through a set of doors and up a wide staircase to a room packed with standard gray office cubicles. His space wasn't far into the maze. He appropriated a chair from another cube and invited us to sit. Green maneuvered for the chair closest to the doorway although there was still no room for his habitual pacing and fidgeting.
"I understand you've come up with something," Ross said.
Mr. Green pulled Jonathan's letter from inside his jacket pocket and tossed it onto Ross's desk. Ross picked it up, examined both sides, and slid him an inquiring look.
"It's a letter to Paul Hudson from Jonathan Woods' office." His fingers tapped against his knee in a faster rhythm than his words. "Miss Campbell found it on Dr. Hudson's desk at the university. I believe it concerns the fossil you were looking for."
"I see you haven't opened it," Ross said. "How do you know what's in it?"
"Mr. Woods told Miss Campbell yesterday when he was informed of a possible link between the letter and some attention you're paying to Dr. Hudson."
Ross nodded, looked at the postmark again, then fished a pair of scissors from the top drawer of his desk and slit the envelope open. He read the letter and handed it to Green. I leaned closer to scan it for myself.
It was essentially what Jonathan had said it was. And it told me something about the original letter to Dr. Whitaker as well; it could not have been the one the police found on Paul's desk. There was no mention of any payment for his efforts. Ha! I knew it! There could be only one explanation. Scott must have fabricated the letter implicating Paul in the thefts.
"This clears Paul, doesn't it?" I asked unable to keep the triumph out of my tone. Even Mr. Green's compulsive leg jiggling didn't bother me. Heck, he could have been rocking and humming and it wouldn't have made a noticeable dent in my mood.
"Well, it certainly is a point in his favor."
"But it clears him, right?"
"It tells me he didn't see this letter. Now what that means, precisely, I have yet to determine."
My mood nose-dived to irritation. "Well, it means that he didn't know anything about that fossil you were looking for. The first letter supposedly went to Dr. Whitaker." A brilliant idea knocked me between the eyes. I grabbed it. "My guess is that his secretary Scott saw it first, got inspired and revised it to implicate Paul."
"You mean Scott Loch?"
I sat back, arms folded, my promise to Mrs. Peabody fulfilled. "Yes."
Ross nodded pensively. Green's fidgeting was beginning to annoy me.
"You definitely should be investigating Scott," I said, just in case he wasn't following.
"You think so?" he asked, one side of his mouth turning up.
Both sides of mine turned down. "He had access to Whitaker's mail, access to the archives, and I understand he needs money."
Ross nodded again, then rose from his chair. "We'll hang on to this," he said. "Thanks for coming in."
I remained seated. "That's it? Aren't you going to tell us what you're going to do?"
"Well," Ross said, looking serious -- seriously patronizing, that is. "I expect we'll take your recommendation under consideration."
"Oh?" Excuse me all to hell if I found it impossible to keep the skepticism out of my voice. He held my gaze. Yeah, I got the message. He wasn't backing down. I didn't intimidate him. I stood. "Good." Well, what else was I going to say? "How's the investigation of Andrew Fogel's murder going?"
Ross studied the floor for a moment, a hand to his mouth. When he looked at me again his expression was neutral. "The case is still open. I'm afraid I can't comment."
I followed as he led the way to the stairs. He caught Mr. Green's eye and one eyebrow jerked upwards. A corner of Green's mouth stretched.
Damn men.
"Later, Jake," Ross said, giving the attorney a friendly thump on the back. "Good-bye, Miss Campbell. Thanks again."
"Take it easy," Green told him.
"What was that all about?" I asked as we walked across the parking lot to our cars.
Mr. Green tossed his keys into the air, caught them, tossed them again and missed the catch. He bent to retrieve them from the asphalt.
"What was all what about?"
"You know what I'm talking about. The 'just between us' little exchange you and Ross had."
"Nothing," he replied with a sheepish grin.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Okay, okay, I told Dave you would probably cross examine him today. That's all."
"I didn't cross examine him," I snapped.
"No, you're right. It was more like directing the investigation."
"Sorry, but somebody's got to point out the obvious."
"Whatever you say," Mr. Green said cheerfully.
It wouldn't have surprised me if there wasn't a wager going on over my behavior, too. "I really think you should be treating this more seriously."
"I assure you I am treating it very seriously." He grinned. The man exasperated me. "Don't worry so much. You've done all you can, why don't you go home and pack?"
Oh great, it'd completely slipped my mind to look into changing my flight reservations for Great Falls. I'd lain awake last night trying to convince myself to ignore Paul's "suggestion" I rearrange my travel plans, only to admit how much I missed him. My parents wouldn't be happy I wanted to leave early for Montana. I'd have to be sure Uncle Henry could fit rides on Blackie into his schedule, and my clients needed to be contacted … this was a logistics nightmare. Maybe I'd stay home.
Mr. Green waved good-bye as he drove his ancient Chevy out of the parking lot. I wiggled my fingers in response. He'd gotten the driver's window fixed since the last time I'd seen him, but blue smoke still spewed from the tailpipe.
As I put my key in my car door lock, the implication of his parting comment hit me like a Looney Tunes double take. How did he know I needed to pack? I ground my teeth. I was certain I hadn't told him. Who had? Ross? How would he know? Andrea? I hadn't told her. In fact, I didn't know I might be leaving for Montana so soon until yesterday after Andrea left. I'd mentioned the possibility to Aunt Vi and Uncle Henry this morning, but they wouldn't have called Mr. Green. That left Paul.
Dammit.
Was I getting paranoid, or were people being just a little sneaky? First Paul's holding back, then Andrea kept secret her affair with Jonathan. It was obvious my uncle and Eric had some kind of gossip line going with Paul no one wanted me to know about. I wasn't even going to revisit the things my parents weren't inclined to let me in on. And now my attorney and very likely the detectives weren't being totally forthcoming. I chucked my purse into the passenger seat, cranked the engine over and shoved the air conditioner to high. Why was I putting up with this aggravation? Why the hell was I even bothering with this?
Damn him. I loved him. I wanted to help him. I could help him. Yet he didn't want me to -- that much was obvious.
God-freaking-damn him.
Well, Mrs. Peabody needed my help. She even asked for my help, unlike some people. I'd stop by and see her since I was more or less in the neighborhood. She would appreciate what I was doing.