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Tuesday, December 31st
Charlotte spread the blueprints for the Garibaldi lab on the big library table. The site survey revealed nothing, but the drawing of the barn, as it existed before the renovation, did show what looked like basement steps in the area where the lounge was now, along with the word “cellar.” Jack’s email with the GPS link from the tunnel was also informative. By zooming out, she could see that they had been standing roughly half way between Bishop Hall and the lab. The tunnel, then, almost certainly ran from Bishop Hall to the former barn, and not to the Garibaldi house.
The latest incident, of Gani’s brake line being cut, begged the question: why would anyone want him dead, or at least out of commission?
The cross burning was generally perceived as a warning to him. But the only person that expressed any particular warning to him was Janice—who later changed her mind.
It seemed there was a connection to drug-running bikers—yet even then they were more interested in having Gani do work for them than doing him bodily harm.
Janice needed Gani in order to fulfill Alonzo’s hybridization contract—and to possibly grow cannabis for the extra money Alexa needed, should she decide to go that route.
Alexa needed Gani for the same reason.
Yet someone wanted him out of the way. Why?
Gani was not a physical threat to anyone. He had skills that were in demand, both legal and illegal. He had his own investment in the lab, both as Alonzo’s business partner and as his friend and lover; he was willing to do something illegal, if needed, to raise money for Alonzo’s daughter’s transplant. Unless Gani knew something and was holding it over someone else, there was no reason Charlotte could think of for someone to hurt him.
Yet the Sawyer brothers who cornered him the other night weren’t happy about “being taken for fools,” saying that Gani was trying to pass off the buckeye plants as cannabis. This meant they had received the plants stolen from the lab. Gani had no reason to destroy his and Alonzo’s work, or to do something as idiotic as passing the plants off as cannabis.
The plants, therefore, were stolen by someone who did think they were cannabis, and that pointed back to Janice—and Hewey Sawyer.
Charlotte had no difficulty imagining Hewey backing up his new white panel truck to the greenhouse loading area and filling it to the brim with every plant he could get his hands on, convinced it could be sold for thousands of dollars. He would naturally take it to his brothers, who had the know-how to process and sell it. The brothers were unlikely to have stolen the plants themselves, because they would have known immediately that the buckeyes were not cannabis.
The Sawyer brothers likely would not have known about the lab at all if it wasn’t for Hewey. He was the link.
But why would Hewey steal the plants on the day Alonzo was murdered? What happened between the time Alexa and Gani left and when Alexa returned with Charlotte? Alonzo was shot somewhere, then moved to the floor of his office, and the greenhouse was robbed. The fact that Alonzo’s body was moved from wherever he was shot suggested that there was a cover-up. The robbery of the plants that both Janice and Hewey thought were cannabis also seemed like part of a cover-up, to make it look like Alonzo was shot in the course of a robbery.
Did Gani know this? If not at the time, did he eventually work it out? Did this knowledge make him a threat? Perhaps that is what the cross-burning was, to threaten him to stay quiet, or the big bad biker guys would lynch him. If Gani figured out that Hewey stole the plants for his brothers, he would realize that it would backfire, and the repercussions from the loss of his and Alonzo’s work on one hand and the bikers finding themselves with a lot of non-cannabis would explain his seething fury the night of the cross-burning.
His anger, however, was specifically directed at Janice and Alexa, not Hewey, suggesting that they perhaps had a more active role in whatever was going on. Charlotte knew by now that Alexa was single-minded in her search for a kidney, and had the feeling that nothing, not an old friendship, not her relationship with her parents or concern for them or Gani or Hewey was going to get in the way.
Janice, however, was another matter. There were secrets there, despite her anything-goes history. Janice seemed most concerned about Alexa, money, illegal activity in the tunnel, and Hewey. Alonzo told Hewey that she was afraid of tunnels, and Hewey believed him. Alonzo did not want Janice to know about the tunnels being used again. And one thing in Gani’s account of what Alonzo said tugged at her: Janice had gotten into some kind of trouble when she was in college, and Corton wanted her to get out of town for a while.
He also said that Alonzo said Janice was psychotic.
Janice was wayward enough that her doting grandfather thought it was necessary to keep an exceedingly close eye on her, one that included spies, investigators, and informants. Just how bad was Janice’s behavior—or Corton’s obsession with her?
Barnes said the spouse is always looked into in a murder case, and for good reason. Spouses can have motivations ranging from money to hatred to revenge. What would be Janice’s motivation for killing Alonzo?
The way Alonzo kissed Gani, for one. Alexa herself said it looked like they were in love. Janice had long since accepted Alonzo’s sexual proclivities, but he had never left her for anyone, as far as Charlotte knew, emotionally or otherwise. Love never had anything to do with those encounters. Love, however, was clearly in play with Gani. And it wouldn’t be implausible that, at long last, Janice felt betrayed. Had she finally felt she came in second, or even third place?
The fact that Alonzo made Gani an equal, a partner, in the business only confirmed Janice’s change in status. She would no longer inherit the entire business as Alonzo’s wife, but only his half ownership of it. And all this at a time when her daughter needed a kidney and a lot of money.
Which way would Janice benefit more: Gani out of the way, so that she became the sole owner of the laboratory, or Gani continuing to operate the lab for the hybridization contract and possibly the cannabis, as well?
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CHARLOTTE REALIZED it was time to run a very special errand and to start thinking about the evening ahead. She still hadn’t heard from her daughter. What did Ellis think of Donovan? It wouldn’t change anything if she didn’t like their relationship, but Charlotte still hoped that she at least didn’t hate it. She gave Ellis a call.
“Hi, kid, what are you up to?”
“Hi, Mom—I’m with Emily and Kayla at Ramona’s Resale. We’re picking out something for tonight.”
“That sounds like fun. Are they going to Jimmy’s party, too?”
“They are now. They weren’t going to and then I told them Nathaniel Bahn will be there.”
“Who’s that?”
“Mom! That’s Jimmy’s grandson. He told us about him at Amaretto’s. Nathaniel is like this amazing violinist and he’s mad hot. So they’re going to turn up.”
“Interesting. I bought my own dress there.”
“That’s what Aslan said. You going with Donovan?”
“Yes, I am. Sorry to spring that on you, by the way. It just sort of happened.”
“Yeah, that was crazy. What’s up with that, anyway? I thought you were dating Simon for a while, and then you stopped talking about him.”
Charlotte kept the explanation simple. “Simon is amazing, but he’s just not that into me, and that got to be a real downer. Once I stopped being so focused on him, I realized the right guy was in front of me all along.”
“Sounds like the plot of a hundred different movies.”
“Yeah, and for good reason. If it’s hard to keep a dating relationship alive, you won’t stand a chance at keeping it alive on a more serious level.”
“You’re probably right.” Ellis paused. Charlotte’s motherly radar picked up a tone in Ellis’ voice that was a preamble to her wanting to talk about something that was bothering her. “You remember me mentioning Jean-Luc?”
“I do indeed. And then you stopped talking about him some time ago.”
“I did, didn’t I? So what’s worse—realizing the guy just isn’t that into you, or doing crazy stuff to get his attention?”
“Both are unpleasant. But I would say doing the crazy stuff is worse. Realizing he isn’t into you is disappointing, but trying to change that by going to extremes is humiliating. You don’t want to humiliate yourself. But if you catch yourself doing that, then it’s important to stop as soon as possible—and forgive yourself. And move on.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, but there’s no Donovan to catch me, at least as far as I can tell.”
“I hear Paris in the spring can be pretty inspiring.”
Ellis laughed. “I’m gonna get you back, Mom. Right about the time you come over, I’ll be falling in love with someone.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. It happens when it happens, and you’re a young woman now. A very young one, but a woman.”
“Well, thank you for that, Mom, but tonight my friends and I are just gonna have fun, you know?”
“Sounds like a terrific idea.” She heard the girls talking in the background.
“Gotta try this on. Later, Mom.”
“Later.”
It was three in the afternoon when Donovan called.
“Charlotte, sweetheart, look out the window.”
She hurried over. Donovan was leaning against a shiny black Audi TT coupe, waving at her. She pushed up the window sash and leaned out into the cold rose-colored air.
“It’s perfect! I’ll be right down!” She closed the window, grabbed Donovan’s present where it hung on the Christmas tree and ran straight out.
It was him she had eyes for first, and he wrapped her inside his coat since she ran out without putting one on, kissing her as deeply as a soldier home on leave. Oh, she was so happy he was back.
His glasses almost fell off and he laughed as he caught them, and left them off as they kissed again.
“I go and spend serious money on a sexy car, and all she wants are my kisses. I’m a lucky guy.”
Charlotte nodded and nuzzled closer. “Uh-hm. And don’t you forget it.”
Three preteen boys sauntered by. One of them yelled something disgustingly explicit, then another threw a dirty snowball at them and they ran off, laughing.
Donovan smiled and put his glasses back on. “Nice to see kids being kids. But you’re gonna freeze. Whatd’ya think?”
Charlotte knew very little about cars, but the coupe was one she was considering buying before things went haywire financially. “I love this car—I actually test drove one earlier this year.”
He opened the passenger door for her to get in, and went around to the driver’s side, started it up, and ran the heat.
“It’s used, but like new, low miles. Half of what it would have been through a dealer, a fact I happen to be very proud of.”
“I would be, too! I bet you enjoyed driving it home.”
“Took a bit of getting used to at first, but yes. Jimmy knew a guy who was selling this and a few other good cars.”
“It’s really comfortable,” said Charlotte, snuggling into the leather seat.
“Wanna take a drive?”
“Yes! But lock the apartment door first.” She handed him the key she’d had made on her errand, to which she had tied a red plaid ribbon, and a tag that said “Donovan.”
His hand trembled for a moment as it sunk in, as did that little muscle on one side of his mouth. He looked up at her, wide-eyed and almost childlike at first, then burst into a smile. “I—I’m honored,” he stammered. “I love you. I—I love you.”
“I know,” said Charlotte. “I love you, too.”
They kissed again. Donovan got out to lock the apartment door, which took a few tries until he got the feel for it, much like Charlotte herself had to do the first few times.
Then he got back in—and drove. He took the car out on the highway, driving into the sunset, then turned onto a county road that gradually led back to Elm Grove. It was clear that Donovan was in his element, and Charlotte just leaned back and enjoyed the ride, the confident way he took the curves and the hills, the smooth sensation of riding in a sports car driven by someone who knew what he was doing.
By the time they entered the city limits, it was dark, and the holiday lights glittered brightly. They hadn’t said a word to each other during the entire ride, and only now did he reach over to take her hand. He looked at her appreciatively, and she smiled back and nodded. She understood.
Lester’s Sporting Goods had the smell of things made out of rubber, canvas, metal, and wood, with an occasional whiff of musk. There was a large free-standing fireplace in the middle of the cavernous building, crackling with burning oak logs. Dozens of customers wandered through the place, taking advantage of post-holiday sales and stocking up on winter hunting needs. Lester’s was also an official check station, as they had deduced from a couple different pickup trucks with dead deer in the back.
Upon asking for Dorene Sawyer, they were led to an office behind the Customer Service counter.
Charlotte knew from her research that Dorene was about eighty years old, but she looked like she was still in her sixties—slim, trim, blond, and with an attractive laugh and smile as she talked to someone on the desk phone, concluding by wishing the caller a Happy New Year.
When she looked up at them, however, it was easy to see the resemblance to Janice Garibaldi, or at least a Janice with much harder, street-smart eyes. “Hi there, I’m Dorene. Have a seat.” She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. “What can I do for you folks?”
Donovan felt that Charlotte was likely the best one to talk to Dorene, and he would speak just occasionally, especially if the discussion began to include the other members of the Sawyer clan.
“Okay, I’m here about Hewey Sawyer, who I believe is your son, am I correct?”
Dorene’s eyes narrowed, and she nodded. “What’s this about?”
Charlotte introduced herself, and explained her connection to Janice and Alonzo Garibaldi through Alexa and Gani, and introduced Donovan as a friend who was helping her sort things out.
Dorene went quiet at the mention of Janice, and Charlotte seized her chance.
“In the course of looking into the history and relationships of the individuals involved in Alonzo Garibaldi’s death, it has come to my attention that you are not only Hewey’s mother, but that you are probably also Janice’s mother, and Edward Corton was her father, not grandfather.”
Dorene’s expression remained neutral. “Well, now that I don’t have to say, it’s not anybody’s business.” Not a denial. So far so good.
“I agree that under normal circumstances it is nobody’s business. The reason why it is my business at the moment, however, is that Janice’s daughter, your granddaughter Alexa, is in dire need of a kidney transplant, and one from a family member would be greatly preferred. Janice is not a match, she has the wrong blood type. But if Hewey is Alexa’s uncle, he might be. Or if you have any other blood relatives, they might be, as well.”
“So Alexa is sick?” Bingo. Donovan was right—Momma Sawyer would come forward if a young family member was ill.
“Yes. She’s at stage four kidney failure, and it looks like it’s getting worse.”
Dorene said nothing, but her eyes were moving over the items on her desk as she took in this information.
Charlotte continued. “The other element that concerns me is that Hewey seems certain that Alexa killed Dr. Garibaldi. I think he could be covering up for Janice. They are very close.”
At this Dorene’s eyes scanned her desk again, but she still didn’t say anything.
“Your family has a long history with the Cortons, going back to over ninety years ago, when your father, Dodie Mahon, was one of Edward Corton’s foremen on the bootlegging tunnel project. The other two foremen were your husband’s father and uncle, Bud and Emmet Sawyer. But only your father remained in Corton’s employ long after the tunnel project was completed. Perhaps this was because they were good friends—or perhaps as a way of keeping your father from telling the world about Corton’s involvement with you.”
Dorene shook her head, then, as if it was nonsense. “My daddy didn’t have a mean enough streak in him for that.”
She paused again, then seemed to decide there was no point in denying anything anymore. “Eddie was a charmer—I would go ‘round to see him myself, and one thing led to another. Daddy was upset, of course—I think he even gave Eddie a black eye, that was the maddest I’d ever known him to be, but he calmed down and got practical. Eddie offered to take the baby and have his son and daughter-in-law raise it as their own, and I guess they agreed to it. But when Alexander was killed in Korea, his wife didn’t want to take in the baby anymore, and Eddie had a hard time getting her to change her mind. I think he paid her or made some crazy promises, because by the time I had Janice, things were in place.
“Eddie paid for my schooling, too, so I learned bookkeeping, and he made sure Daddy and I never wanted for anything. I didn’t get married, though, until years later, and I didn’t have Hewey until some years after that, when I was thirty-nine. He was a surprise. But I’ve always worked as a bookkeeper, made my own way.”
Dorene was showing her age now, looking sad and defeated by the memory, and drifting more toward the past than the present.
Charlotte spoke again. “Does Hewey know that Janice is his sister?”
Dorene shrugged. “If he does, I didn’t tell him.”
“Did you know that he has been helping her out from the time he was a kid?”
“That I did know. He was such a shy boy. I was working full-time and had my hands full with a sick husband and rowdy step-kids. It seemed a good thing for him.”
“Dorene,” said Donovan, “are you aware that Dr. Garibaldi’s partner, Dr. Serapio, was approached by your stepsons or their sons about using the laboratory to grow marijuana?”
She looked up sharply. “No I wasn’t. When did this happen?”
Donovan looked at Charlotte for confirmation. “What was it, about a week ago?” She nodded.
Dorene snorted in exasperation. “Those dumbasses. I know why they did it, but just wish they wouldn’t. This economy is a mess, and some of them aren’t real bright.”
Donovan followed it up. “Not long before that, there was a cross burning outside Dr. Garibaldi’s lab, and the kind of cross that was burned was once associated with your stepsons’ biker group years ago. Then someone posted photos of the incident on a hate group website.”
Dorene’s eyebrows went up. “You are joking.”
“That brings me to another thing,” said Charlotte. “The day Dr. Garibaldi was shot, someone stole a large number of plants from his research laboratory. They looked like marijuana, but they weren’t. There is a strong possibility that Hewey took them and gave them to his brothers or nephews, possibly for the money, I don’t know. Or possibly to make it look like Dr. Garibaldi was shot during a real robbery, to take the suspicion off of himself and Janice.”
Dorene’s mouth was hanging open now. “I don’t believe this. I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him, but just how much trouble can one boy get himself into? And at his age?”
Donovan extended his sympathy. “As one who has gotten himself into all kinds of trouble without ever looking for it, I can really sympathize with Hewey.”
“Mrs. Sawyer, Dorene,” began Charlotte. “Hewey shouldn’t have to be in trouble if he’s gotten in over his head, especially if he hasn’t hurt anyone. And he might be able to help your granddaughter, too.”
“I’ll see what I can do. He’s slow and gullible, but he’s not entirely stupid—especially when I tell him that his niece needs a kidney. He always did like to take care of sick and orphaned animals.”
They thanked her and left the office, making their way through the store toward the entrance.
“Well, if it isn’t Donald and Cheryl! How’re ya doin?”
It was Bill Sawyer, the guy from No Trace Bar. He was putting up a poster for a talk on how to claim American Indian heritage in order to draw revenue from a land-based casino—and he was stoned.
“What’s that, then?” asked Donovan.
“Just what it says. Good stuff. Can’t take advantage of it, myself, but maybe others can.”
“You’re not Native American?”
“Oh, but I am! Not Indiana Indian, though. My Grandma Sawyer was a Callahan, a bona-fide Ridgetop Shawnee from Harlan County, Kentucky. We got native blood from ‘way back, maybe some darker stuff, too.”
“So that’s why you want to lose those tattoos?” Charlotte nodded toward the ones on his wrists.
“Yeah,” Bill nodded sheepishly. “Grandma Dorene was pissed off when we all got the tats, so she educated us on our heritage. She knew all about the Callahans and a buncha other families. Good stuff. You take care, now—and you still gotta play a game of pool with me, Cheryl.”