Chapter 15

On Friday Aaron finally obtained from his friend Rafael the exact location and a rough sketch of the exterior and interior of the Sanders mansion. (At 16 rooms plus six bathrooms, it certainly qualified as a mansion in my book.) According to Rafael, Chez Sanders, as I was now thinking of it, was located on several wooded acres near Los Altos, a short commute down the Peninsula from San Francisco. That meant our party could indeed be billeted in San Francisco, with all the amenities that included. Although Aaron didn’t know the precise location of the violin in the house, there was some kind of “art gallery” there, which seemed like a logical place to display a rare musical instrument. I congratulated Aaron on the thoroughness of his research, and although it was Rafael who had furnished the information to Aaron, he gladly accepted the credit.

Aaron seemed to be mostly over whatever case of nerves he’d had, and in fact he was like a small boy embarking on his first day in school. He was an effervescent mixture of enthusiasm for a new adventure and dread of its unknown hazards. I impressed upon him several times that this was, at bottom, a business venture. It might succeed, and it might fail. Which result obtained would depend on the thoroughness of our planning, the precision of our actions, and a dollop of dumb luck. I urged him to keep his emotions in check and to concentrate on business. To his credit, I’m sure Aaron did his best to comply, and I had high hopes that he would prove to be a competent cohort, or at least would not totally screw up the works.

****

Getting Sara to cooperate was another matter. It was partly that, although she enjoyed being on the fringe of my more exciting capers, she had assiduously stayed away from the epicenter, and this smacked too much of placing her squarely at ground zero. But there was also a more practical issue: She had several engagements that would have to be cancelled or rescheduled on short notice if she were to take off for a two-week dalliance with me and Aaron.

“I understand the problem,” I told her as we shared evening coffee (there was no need for the wine this time). “And I’m sure we can get along without you. But I’d rather not. In addition to the fact that it would be fun to spend a couple of weeks in the Bay Area together, you’re my safety net, and I’d hate to cross that high wire without one.”

“I know, Flo, but it’s such short notice. I can reschedule things like the two doctor’s appointments, and I can cancel a meeting with my financial advisor. But you’ll remember I told you about that guy I met at the library, and he’s asked me out to a concert next Wednesday. I kind of hate to cancel a first date, if you know what I mean…” As I was well aware, to Sara having a good time was a high priority, and having a hot new boyfriend was the epitome of a good time.

“Sure, I understand,” I said. “So let me sweeten the pot here. Aaron has lots of money and doesn’t mind spending it. I’m sure he’ll put us up at the Fairmont in San Francisco or whatever hotel we want, and the whole trip will be first class. Two weeks all-expenses-paid, like they say on the quiz shows, in the Bay Area. And as for this guy you met, if he can’t wait a week or two to take you out, he probably isn’t worth the trouble.”

Sara thought about that while she sipped her coffee. As an attractive and “comfortably situated” single woman, she did not lack for romantic opportunities. And although this latest guy seemed a bit special, she knew I was right: If he couldn’t handle a brief delay in what he no doubt saw as the first skirmish in a short campaign leading to Sara’s bedroom, she was better off waiting for the next recruit.

“Okay, I’ll go,” she said at last. “It should be fun. And I’d hate to think of you out there in need of help with no one to call on, at least no one within a thousand miles or so.”

“Great!” I leaned over and gave Sara a hug. “I’ll tell Aaron everything’s set. We’ll all leave on Monday.”

The next day, Saturday, I spent poring over the plan of Chez Sanders and considering the kinds of information I was still missing. Of course, one crucial question was how Aaron and I would get into the house in the first place, especially as it apparently was gated with a security guard on duty. This wouldn’t be as simple as picking the lock on Donny Martin’s front door, or getting into Aaron’s room by impersonating a housekeeper.

Or would it?