Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three
Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six
Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen
Kiss him.
Kill him.
I was in the kitchen when I heard the screams. A mortar box had exploded, shooting across the warehouse, setting it on fire. Across. Not up. Not up and out the roof. Teddy and Steve and Gordie were trapped inside. Thick gray smoke tainted with black spewed from the warehouse windows. I raced outside, lost my struggle with the heavy warehouse door. Ashes filled my eyes, nostrils. Grit jammed my throat. Bells were ringing, sirens were screaming. A ghost jabbed tubes into my arm, told lies, assured me everything would be alright. Everything?
Steve didn't want a funeral. He wanted to be cremated. He got his wish. Sort of. There'd been no bodies, only a scattering of human fragments, bones, teeth, ashes. Teddy and Steve's and Gordie's ashes mixed together. I fingered the ashes and wondered which were Teddy's. Mourners, some who truly cared, some who were there for a morbid thrill or to brag they'd been a part of the memorial service. Fireworks companies from around the country sent flowers, cards, notes. Everyone cared. Everyone but Trent Summit. Who the hell cared? The sickening debris had to be cleared away. Bills had to be paid. Orders had to be canceled. Hartman's Insurance was sending out a representative to pay my claim. Eventually life would return to some semblance of order. I'd use the money to rebuild Cambridge. I hate Cambridge. I'd use it as it has used me.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Cambridge. Sorry as I can be. Your husband let the premium slip by him, I guess. We all do it, forget to pay our insurance. I've done it myself on my car insurance!" Bob Winters told me when he came to settle the claim.
"There has to be a mistake. Steve didn't pay the insurance. Steve didn't pay the bills. Gordie Horton was our bookkeeper. Steve hired him five years ago. Gordie wrote the checks. Gordie paid the bills. He'd have paid the premium. Gordie was very responsible. There's a mistake here. Take another look, please!"
"I have. I've gone over this and over this. No, the premium wasn't paid. We sent out a reminder notice but it was never acknowledged. I'm sick at heart for you. But there's nothing I can do. You can sell the good will of the company. And there's Steve's life insurance. It was a six-year plan. It was paid in one lump sum. Steve paid it himself before he hired a bookkeeper. $50,000. Not much by today's standards. It won't go far but at least it's better than nothing," Winters said.
Almost 'nothing' was what I had after I paid the outstanding bills. I put the rest of the bills in a basket. Three months. I'd give it three months. If I couldn't make it by then I'd have to sell. The land, the house, the good will of the business. None of it would bring much. The house was seventy years old, run down, needed repairs. Steve promised he'd hire someone. But the company came first and there was always something. The good will of Cambridge Fireworks had little value. The land would be worth the most. That is, if anyone wanted to drive forty miles to and from Scottsdale.
Three months dragged by. The ads I placed in the Scottsdale Progress and Arizona Republic cost eighty-seven dollars for a week. Not one phone call.
'If you ever need me, I mean really need me, I'll be there for you.' Trent's promise of years ago meant zilch to me. Where was he when I had Teddy? Where was he when Teddy had died?... 'if you really need me...' Pride. I have my pride. But pride doesn't pay the bills. I can't eat pride. Pride. He had his. His pride was enough for both of us.
My fingers trembled as I dialed his number. I started to replace the receiver on the sixth ring.
"Don't hang up, whoever you are! Hold on, I just got out of the shower. Be right with you!" she heard him say.
Damn him. Naked. He'd answered the phone naked. His body glistening with water. Rivulets running down his back, his shoulders, running down his buns, in between his legs. All of this had been mine. Only six months a widow and I'm horny. With any luck at all I could have one helluva orgasm. Six months a widow, over a year since I'd had sex. I can't remember the last time Steve and I'd made love. He was tired or dirty or busy or Teddy might hear. I'd withdraw, too angry to push myself onto him or beg for him to push himself into me. It'd never been very good between us anyway. But I was needy. I wanted it, good or not good, I wanted it. If I hadn't known better I would've suspected he was getting it from someone else. But he was home every night, most days, so there was little chance he was playing around.
For the fourth time in an hour I checked my watch. Trent was late. Or maybe he wasn't going to show up. I tugged at the hem of my tank top. It'd shrunk; what did I expect for three dollars? But it was blue and Trent loved me in blue, he said it matched my eyes. I ran my fingers through my hair, jerked on my bangs. I'd cut them myself. At least the lemon rinse I'd used lightened the dingy color. My white shorts came unzipped again. Convenient if Trent wanted to make love. Making love had always been so spontaneous, so easy. Walking to the east window I shielded my eyes, squinted, searching for a cloud of dust that would indicate a car driving towards Cambridge Ranch. It wasn't a ranch. Steve's father had called it that. The land, some nine acres, had belonged to the Pima Indians. Steve's father had bought it when a discrepancy in the title offered it for sale. I checked my watch again. Trent had changed his mind. He wasn't coming. The least he could do was call. But he'd sounded sincere. I'd told him about Steve and Teddy. I reminded him of his promise.
"I keep my promises. That's more than some people do," he'd said, with no attempt to hide his bitterness.
I went into Teddy's bedroom. It was just as he'd left it. Ninja turtles stood staring at me. His red Tonka dump truck, filled with M&M's, waited in a corner. Tonytiger, his favorite stuffed toy, wasn't there. He'd taken it everywhere he went. It had died with him in the explosion. I plopped down on the edge of his bed, touched his pillows. 'Boy, Mom, I really love these pillows! Spider Man pillows!'
"I rang the bell. Didn't you hear it?" Trent asked, leaning against the wall.
Dressed in khaki shorts and a purple tank top he looked more like a young college kid than a twenty-eight year old corporation attorney. His dark blue eyes were a stunning contrast to his blond hair. He was sun bronzed except for places where the sun couldn't reach. I could reach those places. I knew those places, knew every inch of him. I chewed on my lips; I wanted to rip off his shorts.
"You're late. I was beginning to think you weren't coming," I scolded.
"Yeah. Late. A half-hour. It's always something, isn't it?" he growled.
"What do you mean?"
"No matter what I do or how I do it, you're never satisfied or happy. We haven't seen one another for over five years. And...well, never mind. You called me. You said you needed me, wanted to see me. I'm here. It's a long drive out here. So what's this all about?"
"Money. It's about money. I'm in a lot of trouble," I admitted, motioning for him to follow me into the kitchen. "Do you want a glass of lemonade?"
"I'd rather have iced tea."
"Since when? You hate iced tea!"
"See what I mean? There you go again. Just forget the lemonade or tea. Water. I'll have a glass of water. And don't skimp on the ice."
I turned my back on him as I poured his water. "Let's quit the bickering and get down to my problem. As I said, it's money. The company wasn't insured. Steve had some life insurance but not much. $50,000. By the time I paid funeral expenses, bills, well, I'm almost broke. I'm sorry about your wife. Ashley, wasn't it?" I asked.
"Yes. Ashley. I can't believe she's been dead. Well, you know this feeling, don't you?" he said. "Ironic, isn't it, that both you and I have lost our partners. I'm sorry about Steve. And your son. Teddy. It was Teddy, wasn't it? How old was he? Did he look like Steve?"
"Teddy will be six. Would be six. No, he didn't look like Steve. Did you and Ashley have any children?"
"Ashley didn't want any. She said she hated the idea of being pregnant, being fat. And she didn't like children. She said they were little monsters. How about you? Did you like having a little boy?"
"I did. I do. I mean, never mind. It's just that I can't used to the idea of Teddy being gone. He was my world."
"What about Steve? Did he like being a father?"
"He was wonderful with Teddy."
"I'll never know what kind of father I'd be. I'm certainly not going to get married again. Once was enough. Now tell me more about your money problems. And pour me some more water. Do you have anything good to eat? Cookies, maybe?"
"No cookies. I used to bake dozens for Teddy. He was a real cookie eater." I suddenly remembered I was baking cookies that awful day. What happened to them? Standing on tiptoe I stretched my five feet to reach a jar of tea from the second shelf of a cabinet.
"Let's go someplace and get something to eat. You look like you could use a good meal. You're thin. You look good for twenty-eight but you're too thin."
"There's no place close. It's a long drive. Maybe I can scrape up something. How about a cheese sandwich? Oh, I threw the cheese away yesterday. It was moldy. I have soup. I can heat that up."
"I never eat soup in August. I don't care how far it is, let's go get something to eat. What's the matter, you look kinda sick."
"Nothing. I really don't go out much. Steve didn't like me to leave the house."
"What? How did you go shopping? Get groceries?"
"I didn't go shopping. Not shopping like I used to do. Just for fun. Groceries? Steve bought them. Sometimes I'd go along. Maybe we'd get a Dairy Queen."
"Sounds like Steve kept you on a leash. Were you happy?"
"Of course I was. I had Teddy, my home."
"So how was the fireworks company?"
"A small company. But Steve and his partner Gordie Horton did very well. Everything was fine until the explosion. I'll go. I am hungry. I'll just get my handbag and sunglasses. And a sweater."
"A sweater in this heat? Yeah, I guess you might need one. Some restaurants can be cold. After we eat we'll stop for groceries. Cookies? You bet!"
He sounded like Teddy. As I took a sweater from my closet I remembered Trent's teasing remark: 'remember, you've got my love to keep you warm'.
"Why are you being so nice to me? 'Feel sorry for me?"
"Nice? I'm always nice. Sorry for you? Why should I be? Your husband and son are dead, killed in an explosion. You're broke. You haven't a damn thing in your house to eat. And you're scared to go anyplace. Sorry for you? I'm just hungry. Get in the car.
We can talk on the way. Just what is it you want of me? You mentioned money," Trent said, giving me a slight push out the door and into his white Porsche.
"I want you loan me the money to keep Cambridge going."
"Does the company mean that much to you? Were you Steve's Girl- Friday?"
"Just the opposite. I was Steve's nothing. I want to keep the company going because, well, because I want to prove to Steve that I can!"
"To a dead man you're going to prove something? You're not making any sense, Penelope!"
"Don't call me that! You know how I hate it! I am making sense. You can't see it, you could never see what meant a lot to me. Stop the car. Let me out. I'm not going anywhere with you!"
"Keep that seat buckle tight and don't you dare undo it. You are not, I repeat not, getting out. We are going to get something to eat. Okay, if it means that much to you, I'll loan you the money. Whatever you want. Let it never be said that Trent Summit doesn't help little old ladies across the street! And one more thing, I'm going to have a double cheeseburger with onions. Raw onions."
I didn't respond. Trent knows I hate the odor of raw onions. He was baiting me, goading me in an attempt to start another quarrel. I wasn't up to it. When did he change? He was never like this when we dated. After six years of not seeing each other this reunion wasn't what I expected. Silly arguments about iced tea, raw onions.
"Looks like there's a Burger King up ahead. Shall we try it?" Trent asked.
"Fine with me. One place is as good as another."
"Order me a coupla cheeseburgers with everything, large fries, large coke. I want to use the men's room," he said, as we pulled into a parking place. "Here's a twenty. Time you learned how to manage money. In a way I'll be your boss."
Boss. As I stood in line waiting for our order I wondered how this was ever going to work out. He'd never been her boss. He was her friend, her lover. Only a few months ago she'd been wife, mother, teacher. Steve hadn't wanted Teddy to go to school. I could teach him at home. After all, Steve insisted Teddy was only in kindergarden. The interaction with other little kids wasn't a good idea, Steve argued. I felt just the opposite. Children need other children in their lives. But it was only kindergarden and it was a long drive to the nearest school. I could teach Teddy at home. He'd be fine. Next year when he was a first grader I'd insist he to go to school.
Trent interrupted my thoughts. "Well, are you going to pay the guy or stand there daydreaming? Hand him the twenty. I'll get us a table. Some place in the back where it's quiet and we can talk," he said, just as a group of little leaguers walked in. "There goes that idea! Well, at least I'll get us a table."
"How much do you know about the fireworks business?" I asked.
"Nothing except fireworks are pretty and make loud noises. Is there more to it than that?"
"Not much. Unless you call ordering supplies and knowing what you're ordering 'more to that'. Cambridge Fireworks wasn't a big operation. We can't compete with the biggies like Pyrotech, Fireworks by Grucci or Butler. But we did have low prices and we did service small events, the ones the biggies wouldn't bother with. Like store openings. Birthday parties. Weddings. Graduations. What about the name Cambridge? You're putting up the money to keep it going. Do you want to add your name?"
"No sense adding my name just to change it again after you pay me back. Here, take this napkin. You have mustard on your nose. I can't take you anywhere. I'll get started on the loan tomorrow. You should hire a coupla guys to help you run the place. I'm going to be one of those guys."
"You? You just said you don't know a thing about...What about your law practice? I mean, how can you just leave, walk out, take on a fireworks company? Aren't you a corporation attorney? In a big Scottsdale firm?"
"No problem. None at all. I bought fifty-seven percent of the firm a few months ago. There are six of us in the firm. Three are senior partners, still interested in their careers but close to retirement. The other three, and I'm one of the three, plan to expand, take on a different clientele. Crime. 'Going into criminal law. But this takes money. Big money that someone is willing to put up front right now. I'm that money man. So there won't be any problem with my taking time off to help you run the business. And I won't be leaving the firm shorthanded. I'll hire someone to replace me on a temporary basis. I have someone in mind. How much do you need for Cambridge?"
"I haven't a clue. The books, the records, are in Steve's office. I can go through them and figure it out. What about interest on your loan? Oh well, charge me whatever you want to."
"You're certainly trusting. A lousy businesswoman. But trusting. And I bet you're fair, too."
"Am I, Trent?" What would you know about fair? If you'd been fair Teddy would be alive.
"Have you always wanted to be a lawyer? Family thing? Was your father a lawyer, or should I say 'attorney'? Is this your last year at ASU? It's mine. Funny we haven't before."
"Here, I'll carry those for you. Family thing? Have I always wanted to be a lawyer? It was either that or the lead guitar in a rock group," Trent told me.
"So what happened? The law won out because...?"
"Because I can't play the guitar and I can't sing. Attorney or lawyer? I've wondered that myself. What about you? What are your plans for your future?"
"Politics. Maybe I'll run for the first woman President someday. Someone has to be first, it might as well be me. Will I have your vote?"
"Only if you'll have coffee with me. Now. At the Coffee Plantation. Agreed? Or do I have to campaign first?"
"Out and out bribery. You're my kind of voter!"
And so we began. We made love on our first date. Our bodies touched, blended into magic. We forgot the world. There was no world. Only ours.
We studied together, laughed together.
"Do you want to get married someday? After you're the first lady and I'm Clarence Darrow?" Trent asked me one night after we'd made love.
"Is this a proposal? If it is, my answer is 'yes'."
"What about being the first lady? Won't being married to me interfere? And how will I fit in with your White House duties?"
"I'd rather be Mrs. Trent Summit than the first lady anyday. And I'd rather live in our house than the White House. With you and our four children."
"Children? Not for me. I'm not planning on having any children."
"Ever? Surely you want children someday. I'm surprised. I thought you liked children.
Whenever we're around them you seem as if you enjoy them. You're kidding me, aren't you? Shame on you. You had me going there for a moment!"
"Actually, Mrs. Trent Summit-to-be, I'm not kidding. I do like children. As long as they aren't mine. I can't imagine myself burdened with kids. I have a career ahead of me. I can't clutter it with kids. It will be us, just you and I. We are all we will ever need. You and I. We'll be a great team! And I'll even vote for you twice!"
"Maybe you'll change your mind."
"About voting for you twice? I'll stuff the ballot box!"
"No, I mean about having children someday. Think how wonderful it would be to have a son or a daughter. You'll make a wonderful father. I can see you now. Playing with Trent junior or Pen the second," I said, wrapping my legs around him.
"I won't change my mind. I am definitely not having any children. I can't for the life of me see myself as a father. I can't see a Trent junior or a Pen the second. I told you, we won't need children. We'll have one another," Trent whispered, pulling me into him, touching his tongue to my breast. "You feel good. I like good. I like you. Forget children."
But I didn't forget. How could I? I was six weeks pregnant.
"Haven't I met you before? In Professor Oxnard's class?" Steve Cambridge asked me as I came out of Wal-Mart a week after Trent had told me he didn't want children.
"Oh, yes. I am in his class. A real screwball, isn't he? Half the time I'm not sure what he's talking about! How about you?"
"Same here. I just bought my nephew a truck. Take a look," he exclaimed, opening a sack and showing it to me. "Do you think Randy will like it? He lives in Rapid City. He's three. My sister's little boy. Three and a holy terror!"
"A holy terror and you adore him!"
"I do. I really love little kids. I'm going to have a dozen, that is, if and when I marry."
"What does your girl say to all this? Does she want a dozen, too?"
"She's noncommittal because she's nonexistent. I was about to have lunch. Want to, can you, join me? There's a Mexican place a few doors from here. Garcia's. Oh, I better introduce myself. I'm Steve Cambridge."
"Pen Parsons."
"We don't have to go to Garcia's I just mentioned it because it's close. We can go to Roma Gardens. That is if you'd rather. Anyplace is fine with me," Steve offered.
"Anyplace is fine with me, too. Garcia's sounds great."
It wasn't great. But it didn't matter. What mattered was Steve asked me to marry him six weeks later. After I told him I was going to have his baby.
Matt and Tim O'Hara knew the fireworks business like the back of a proverbial hand. They were surprised when I asked them to come to work for Cambridge. Almost everyone in the business was aware that Cambridge was in financial trouble after the explosion and would probably go into bankruptcy. People hated to see Steve's company die along with him. No one knew me very well. I'd kept to myself, taking care of Steve's little boy.
"I'm real glad to see Cambridge survive. And I'm real glad I'm going to work for you.
"Steve was a great guy," Matt told me.
"You can say that for me too!" Tim agreed with his older brother.
"Well, actually you won't be going to work just for me. I have a partner. Trent Summit. Trent's a Scottsdale attorney. A college friend of mine. Trent will need your help. He's new in the fireworks business. You'll be working for Trent. Here he comes now!"
"First day on the job and I'm late! Trent Summit. You must be Matt. And you're Tim," Trent said, extending his hand to each man. "Good morning, Pen. It's a beautiful day, isn't it? I brought groceries, the ones we forgot to buy last night. They're in the car. Plenty of stuff for lunch."
Leave it to Trent to offer me. Not that I minded preparing lunch. But it would've been nice if Trent had allowed it be my idea. "What time do you men want to eat?"
"Noon's fine. First I want Matt and Tim to give me a course on fireworks. Let's use Steve's office," Trent said. "I'll bring the groceries in. Meet you guys in the office."
"Looks like you bought enough food for an army, Trent."
"It's hotter than hell in here. What happened to the air conditioning?" Trent asked.
"There's a wall unit but it's really too small for the room. And it doesn't work most of the time. Steve said he'd buy me a larger one but he never did. It'll be fine, I'm used to it."
"It's not fine. It's hotter than hell and it's early," he complained. "Where do you hide your phone?"
"On the wall behind the shelf, next to the refrigerator."
"And the phone book?" Trent said.
"In the drawer underneath the shelf. You'd make a poor investigator."
"Me, poor? I'm not the one without any money. Call Sears. Ask for a guy named Burle Clancy."
"What shall I tell him?"
"Just ask for Burle. He'll do the rest. I don't have time to stand here and talk about it. I have two men waiting to teach me Fireworks 101!"
"How was your class? And what do you think of the fireworks business?" I asked as I put the lunch dishes into the sink. "Sears are bringing the air conditioner this afternoon. They put me on priority when I mentioned your name and Clancy's! I can't believe my kitchen will be cool! Thanks comes to mind." Not to my heart.
"No problem. The fireworks business is a lot more complicated and detailed than I thought. I have a lot to learn. Thank heavens for the O'Hara brothers. They really know their stuff. How'd Steve get into this business?" Trent asked, stirring ice into his glass.
"It's a family business. His father owned it. Steve worked for him after school, during the summer. His father and mother lived in Scottsdale, on McCormick ranch. It meant a long drive for his father every day but his mother didn't want to live out here and besides, it meant Steve could go to Scottsdale schools. His mother died when Steve was sixteen. His father kept the house in town and Steve lived there until his father died of a heart attack and until he and I got married. I'd hoped he'd keep it and we could live in it. But we never did. Steve sold it a few days after our wedding." I kept my voice steady.
"Both of your parents are dead, aren't they? Sorry about that. I liked them. Enough of my loafing. Matt, Tim and I are going over the books. Gordie, last name I can't remember, was your bookkeeper wasn't he?"
"Horton. Gordie Horton. Yes, Steve hired him as our bookkeeper. And he was Steve's partner, too. I guess Steve thought having a partner would give him more free time. But it didn't seem to."
"What are your plans for today?"
"After I clean up the kitchen I think I'll read. I love reading romance novels, especially the ones with intrigue. With Teddy gone there's not much for me to do around here. We spent time together. The air conditioner..."
"See you later."
I cleaned up the kitchen, anxious to begin the new book I'd had since Christmas. Steve had given it me. On the cover a sexy woman, all breasts and wild hair, was in the arms of a gorgeous bare-chested muscle-man. If Steve was trying to tell me something I got the message. I got it but he didn't give it. A sheer nightgown, or no nightgown, hadn't inspired him. He'd shown no interest or desire. The book was good news, bad news to me. The steamy love scenes made me wet with passion, wet with no one waiting. One scene in particular was so erotic I read it aloud several times, wishing it was me lying there with my legs spread apart. Steve was the one who should've been doing the reading. If only to spark his needs. That is, if he even had known what needs were anymore. If he wasn't concerned about himself couldn't he at least have satisfied me occasionally? He was hotter than hell to get me into bed after we'd met at that Wal-Mart! I hadn't really wanted him but I had to have sex with him to make it appear he'd gotten me pregnant.
Maybe he'd figured it out, knew he been tricked. Maybe he held it against me. Maybe he was angry that he'd married me. It hadn't been a good bargain for either of us. But I'd been a good wife, a wonderful mother to Teddy. He'd been a good father. But as a husband he was nothing.
I brought it on myself. Not by myself. Trent. If only he'd wanted children I wouldn't have had to marry Steve. We'd have been a family, a real family. And Teddy would be alive. There wouldn't have been a fireworks company. Any explosion. Any stench. Any fire. Any screams. Or fire trucks with their screeching bells.
"Mrs. Cambridge, Mrs. Cambridge! Sears! We have an air conditioner for you," someone yelled through the open door.
"Just a minute! I'll be right there!"
"I'm here to install your wall unit. The invoice says it goes in the kitchen. I'm George Conner," he said, tipping his cap, displaying his bald head.
"Am I ever happy to see you! Yes, it goes in the kitchen."
"Yeah, I'm sure you must be. It's a scorcher today. But then it's August in Arizona, so what do you expect? Of course, it's a dry heat!" Conner said, laughing.
"Do you need me for anything? Can I get you something cool to drink?" I asked.
"Not a thing, thanks. I keep a cooler with water in my truck. If I need anything, I'll let you know."
"Okay, I'll be in the living room."
I'd had read only a few pages when Conner entered the room. "I can't install the unit. The wiring has to be replaced. It's real old. In bad shape. Really sorry, it's so hot and your kitchen is a bake oven."
"Can't you re-wire it?"
"No, I'm not an electrician. I can get someone for you. Sears can send someone out. But you'll have to wait until we have someone available. Might take a few days."
"A few days? What about Burle Clancy? Trent Summit?" I namedropped.
"Burle? And Summit? Sure, sure! Are they friends of yours? I'll give a call. Burle's the man I need to talk to," Conner explained, punching numbers on his cellular. He turned his back to me as he spoke to someone. His voice was muffled, I couldn't understand what he said.
"I hope this Burle can get an electrician out here today. But if he can't, he can't. I've survived this heat for a long time, guess I can survive a few days longer," I said.
"Survive what a few days longer?" Trent asked, as he walked into the room. "I see Sears is here. Is the unit installed?"
"No. There's a problem with the wiring. The Sears installer is calling your Burle Clancy to get an electrician out here."
"I'm not surprised, this place is so run down. Well, Burle will take care of it. That's the good news," Trent said.
"Do I detect bad news?"
"Let's go outside. Yes. So what's the bad news? The bad news is that the company books show discrepancies."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean Gordie Horton may have been embezzling from Cambridge. I don't know for sure but I suspect he was keeping double entry books. One for Cambridge and one for himself. There's money missing. A lot of money!"
"What do Matt and Tim think? They must be upset and angry if it's true."
"Matt and Tim don't know a thing about it. We'd started examining the books together when I spotted a few entries that didn't jell with me. I told them I could do the books myself. They were glad to get out of it. They both hate paperwork. And they want to get started on building a new warehouse. Actually, we're not going to have to build one. We can have one put up in a day. A Pre-built. Save us a lot of time. The sooner we get a warehouse the sooner we can get back into business."
Conner walked in, all smiles. "Burle says he'll have a guy out here later today to replace that wiring. I'll be back early tomorrow morning and install your unit. By noon your kitchen will be icy cold! Say, aren't you Trent Summit?" he asked.
"Yes, I am. Thanks for taking care of this. Conner. George Conner. I owe you!" Trent exclaimed, offering his hand.
"No problem, Mr. Summit. See you tomorrow, Mrs. Cambridge," Conner said, with a wave.
"I'm really, really concerned about Gordie's bookkeeping, Trent. If he had been embezzling from Cambridge what do I -- we -- do?" I asked but I'm not sure I wanted an answer.
"I'm going to hire a PI buddy of mine to check Gordie out. If he was stealing from you, we need to know why. He might have been stealing just to be stealing. Or he may have had money problems. Divorce. Alimony. Child support. Gambling. Blackmail. The list is endless. How much do you know about Gordie? Where did Steve meet him?"
"He'd worked for Steve's father off and on. I know Gordie was divorced. I know he had two children. A girl and a boy. He might have been paying child support. He talked about his children a lot, said he missed them terribly. He was crazy about Teddy and Teddy adored him."
"Why did Steve hire him as a bookkeeper? From what I've seen around here Steve wasn't the kind of guy to throw money around. Why didn't he do the books himself? I'm sure he was capable of doing them," Trent said.
"I've thought the very same thing. I asked Steve about it once but he gave me double talk, no answer that made much sense. He did that sometimes when he didn't want me to know something. Like the time he sold his parent's house. We could have lived in it. I wanted to. It was beautiful. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a gorgeous kitchen. And central air conditioning! McCormick Ranch is a wonderful location. It would have been so nice for Teddy. He could have gone to a pre-school, had friends, learned to swim at the 'Y'. As it was, living way out here, none of those things worked out. And I was lonely. My friends didn't enjoy driving so far. When they did come out, Steve wasn't very hospitable. Sometimes I'd go into town but Steve didn't like for me to be gone. I know Teddy was lonely, too. He wanted little playmates. The only playmate he had was me."
"There are a lot of if's in our lives, Pen. Don't burden yourself with them. They only cause pain. What happened. You're a strong woman. You must be to have survived this far, this long. Tomorrow is tomorrow. Today is today. And today I'm starving! The kitchen's too hot to cook. How about a big salad? And ice cream? I bought lots of ice cream! Let's eat the ice cream first. Remember the time we bought Haagen-Daz butter pecan and each of us ate a pint?"
"And I gained about five pounds from it. Did you buy butter pecan?"
"You could use five pounds. You're skinny. I bought vanilla."
"If I didn't know better I'd consider that a compliment. But I know better by looking at your face and by the tone of your voice."
"What about my face? What about my tone?"
"Vanilla. All the way. Vanilla."
"What does that mean, what does 'vanilla all the way' mean?"
"You're the attorney, you figure it out."
"Speaking as an attorney, I have some papers for you to sign."
"What, no hand-shake deal? Don't you trust me?"
"I did that once. Once was enough. If you don't want to sign any papers, fine, we'll cancel our deal and call it a draw."
"What kind of papers, what are they?"
"An Agreement. It's called Buy and Sell. We'd be partners. The Agreement's funded by life insurance. If anything should happen to either of us the survivor is the beneficiary of the policy and sole owner of the business. The amount of the life insurance policy? One million. Or am I going too fast for you?"
"Why didn't you tell me this sooner? I thought you'd loan me the money, help me run the company. You didn't say a thing about an Agreement. You know I can't afford it. It seems to me..."
"It seems to you, it always seems to you. Afford it? I know you can't. I'm paying the insurance premium in a lump sum. The legal fees. The Agreement. Well, make up your mind, take it or leave it. I'm in or I'm out."
"You're in."
The face in Ashley Summit's mirror had new crinkles below its eyes. Ashley picked up a hairbrush and threw it against the bathroom wall. When would it stop! It would never stop, it would only get worse. Dr Stein, with his brilliant expertise, would create miracles with these lines. But he could do nothing to help her keep Trent. No one could. She was the only person in the world with any method of keeping him. That tall, gorgeous man, with his tight, hard body, golden from the sun. Just the thought of him made her crazy with want. But he didn't want her. He wanted that little snip, that damn bitch Pen Parsons. Pen Cambridge now. She'd married Steve Cambridge suddenly, out of the blue. Probably pregnant with his baby. Dumb bitch, she should've had an abortion and kept Trent. Kept Trent and saved Ashley the heartache of thinking for one moment that he loved her. She'd flown to heaven and back when he proposed after a whirlwind courtship. She'd walked down the aisle -- if not the most beautiful bride surely the happiest. Not for long. Within a few months she sensed his regret in marrying her. There was sex seven, eight times a week but the woman he lifted up and into him was Pen.
Ashley picked up the broken pieces of the hairbrush, dropped them into a basket. The hairbrush was dead, dead as hell. She wished Pen was dead, dead and in broken pieces. She could kill her! Who was she kidding. Ashley couldn't kill anyone.
The hum of the new air conditioner was a symphony. I had a peach pie baking, with a pan of double fudge brownies ready to go in the oven.
"Man, this place smells great! Peach pie? It's my favorite. Actually, whatever pie I'm eating is my favorite. Cool in here, feels good. I came in to tell you that I talked to my PI buddy early this morning about Gordie. He said he'll give it top priority and call me here. So let me know if he calls. I'll be outside measuring for the pre-built warehouse. Oh, I want to get a list of the company's clients. Later today I'm going to fax every one of them with a marketing incentive to order from Cambridge. When's the pie going to be ready to eat?" Trent asked.
"Pie at lunch. There's a list of clients in the computer. I think it's filed under Clnts. What's the marketing incentive? My homemade pie or my brownies?"
"I might offer every client a fresh pie for renewing with us. Brownies? They're all mine! The incentive I'm going to offer will be order from Cambridge with a pledge to order for the next twelve months and receive the first order free."
"Free? We can't do that. That would cost us a bundle," I argued. "Why did I think you knew what you were doing? Stupid."
"What I want is their pledge to order from us for the next year. This will assure people we're back and going to stay in business. That's important. People want to feel comfortable with a company. They want to know if they order today their order will be filled and delivered -- not put on back order or never heard of. Would you give a working man just a sliver of pie before lunch? You know, an incentive."
"Come back later. I might even throw in a cup of coffee. Especially since it's half your pie and half your coffee. That Agreement, you know."
Two hours later I hurried outside where Trent was working. "There's a phone call for you. I think it's that PI you're expecting to hear from."
"That was fast," Trent said, wiping his hands on a paper towel. "But leave it to Charlie Wong. He's good. I'll take his call in the office. Hang up when you hear me on the line."
Forty minutes later, Trent returned to the kitchen. "Gordie Horton is an embezzler. He has a prison record five miles long. Been in and out of prison practically all his life. He's a compulsive gambler. And a lousy one. Gets himself into trouble by over-betting. Way over his head and he can't cover his losses. Gangsters do not take kindly to this. Especially a Las Vegas mobster named Ton Leo. Ton Leo won't take 'no' for an answer. He wants paid. No matter where the money comes from. Gordie Horton or even you, Pen! According to Charlie, Ton Leo is rotten from the core. Not a guy to be in debt to. Gordie Horton? He's had more than one contract on his life. Luckily, each time he's managed to slip through and repay what he owed. Probably by embezzling from his employer. He's been stealing from Cambridge for years. No wonder you were broke when Steve died."
"But Steve hired him. Steve trusted him. Why wouldn't Steve know all about Gordie?"
"Go figure. Charlie's looking into it. There's more to tell you. You better sit down for this. It's bad, Pen, really bad."
"I'm sitting down. What is it, what's really bad?"
"Gordie Horton is not only an embezzler and a compulsive gambler. Pen, he's an arsonist."
Don't tell me this. Arsonist. Who did Steve hire? What has Gordie Horton done? "Gordie is an arsonist? Did he set the explosion that killed Steve? That killed my Teddy? That burned my precious little boy? Say it isn't true, say it isn't true. I can't stand it if it's true. It was an accident. Don't you know anything? You and your Charlie Chan or whatever his name is, it was all an accident! Gordie died in the explosion too. Would he kill himself? Would he? Of course not. What are you trying to do to me, Trent? Get even? Settle an old score? How cruel you are. Get out. I never want to see you again, get away from me!"
"Stop this! Knock this off. I hated to tell you about Gordie. But I had no choice. Yes, he was killed, too -- but I bet it was an accident. I doubt he intended to kill himself. Something went wrong. He messed up on the timing. How well was this investigated? Charlie says the police records are sealed. Charlie also says Steve and Gordie were partners with life insurance on each other's lives. Charlie and I think Gordie set the explosion to cover up his embezzlement and to collect the insurance. He didn't intend to kill himself or Teddy. The person he wanted dead was Steve."
"I don't know whether to believe you or not. The only proof you have is what Charlie Chan has told you. That's not really proof. Why are the police records sealed? I want to take a look at those records!"
"So do I. So does Charlie. Tomorrow we'll go into Scottsdale and examine them. Bring Steve's Social Security info. Driver's license -- that is if you have it. Your marriage license, birth certificate. The police may want lots of proof..."
"I wish you'd stop bossing me. When I need your advice, I'll ask for it. And that will be when hell freezes over. I should never have asked you to come. To buy the business. Look what's happened. Steve and Teddy are dead all over again. Only now it isn't an accident. It's murder. Can't you see what you've done? You've brought murder into my life. Teddy was murdered. I could kill you!"
"Yell and be damned all you want if it will help ease your pain. If I brought murder into your life it's because I had to. I had no choice. You have to face reality."
"And I suppose you think you're just the man to see that I do."
"I won't even try to answer that one. I'm going in the kitchen and when I come back I'll have a tray ready for you. A chicken sandwich, pie, coffee."
"I'm not hungry. Just coffee."
"What I bring you will eat. I can't take you into the police station tomorrow any thinner than you already are. The police will arrest me for neglect."
"They should arrest you for control. There isn't any chicken. We ate it yesterday."
"I'll make grilled cheese."
I didn't answer. I turned my head towards the wall and began to sob.
"Okay, so I won't make grilled cheese. I'll make peach pie with gravy."
I lifted my head and stared at him. "What?"
"Thank God you've stopped crying. I just hate it when someone cries in my pie with gravy!"
"You're absolutely impossible!"
"Yes, and I can cook, too."
"I'd rather starve than eat anything you cook."
"At least you've stopped crying."
If you only knew...
Ski Dombroski had his 'twenty years' in the Scottsdale police. Retirement sounded damn good. He'd go up to Roosevelt lake, camp out, fish to his heart's content. Maybe he'd even get married again. Maybe he'd meet the girl of his dreams at one of the Friday night single dances he was going to at the Senior Center.
"Hey, Ski, there are a coupla people who want to talk to you about the Cambridge explosion," Webbie Crane yelled.
"Tell 'em to come into my office," Ski yelled back.
"I'm Trent Summit and this is Pen Cambridge," Trent said as they entered Ski's office.
"Yeah, Pen Cambridge. We met while I was investigating your case," Ski said. "Sit down. What can I do you for?"
"Pen wants a copy of your investigative report. She was never given one. And she should have been. She has some questions," Trent said.
"Who are you and what questions?" Ski wanted to know.
"I'm her attorney. The questions? One question concerns the background of one of the victims. A Gordie Horton."
"Wait a minute. I have to get the files on this case. I can't remember every case I investigate for God's sakes. Webbie, bring that file on the Cambridge explosion. When was that exactly?" Ski asked.
"A little over six months ago," I reminded him.
"Webbie, it was about six months ago," Ski yelled. "You want some coffee? I can't guarantee how good it is. Depends on who makes it. My coffee? Forget it -- even my cat won't drink it."
"I'll take a cup. Black. What about you, Pen. Coffee?" Trent asked.
"No, I don't think so. What's taking so long, Mr Dombroski?"
"I'll get your coffee, Summit, and I'll find out what's taking so long. That Webbie can be as slow as molasses in January. Sure you don't want me to bring you coffee? Or maybe a coke?" Ski offered.
"No. What I want is that file. I should have been given a copy of it."
"Webbie can't locate that file," Ski said, returning with two cups of coffee. "Here's your coffee, Summit. Like I said, Webbie can't locate that file. It'll turn up. Why don't the two of you come back, say in a week or so? By then Webbie will have found it."
"I don't like the sound of this, not at all. Files shouldn't be 'missing'. Don't you have a computer, isn't the file on your computer?" Trent asked, allowing the disgust in his voice.
"Sure, but that's what I'm saying. Webbie can't locate it. It isn't missing. Just not located. No need to get huffy, Summit. You lawyers are all alike. I should know. I went through a divorce a few years ago. Cost me a bundle. Come back in a week. By then Webbie will have your file," Ski assured them.
"We'll be back. But not in a week. Tomorrow. And the file better be available. Don't give us the run-around. I doubt your Captain, Drake's his name, isn't it? I doubt Captain Drake will like what's happening here. If the files aren't available tomorrow, I intend to call him," Trent threatened.
"No problem. Except Drake's in Scottsdale North. Heart attack. Two days ago. Poor guy. Too much red meat, I guess. Or maybe stress. Who's to know these days?"
"We'll see you tomorrow," Trent spat.
"Tomorrow? Not me. I'm retiring. This is my last day here. My retirement dinner is tonight. A shame Drake's going to miss it. But he's seen a few retirements so it's no big deal," Ski said happily, sipping his coffee.
"Where are we going? This isn't the way home," I said, as Trent turned the car west.
"I know it isn't. We're not going home. We're going to Eddie's for lunch. It's one of the best places in the valley. We need to talk and we may as well do it over lunch. And coffee. That coffee Dombroski gave me was enough to kill me. Maybe that was the idea."
"What about those files? Are we really going to get them? Dombroski didn't sound as if he cared one way or another. He's retiring. And that Captain, Drake, yes, Drake, has had a heart attack. Somehow, Trent, I think we've met a dead end. I wish I'd known I needed that file. Maybe if I'd asked for it months ago, right after it all happened, I might have gotten a copy. But now, months later..."
"We'll get it. One way or another. I can subpoena if need be. Let's forget it for now and enjoy lunch. After lunch I'll call the O'Hara's and find out what's going on," Trent said, turning into Eddie's. "You're going to love this place."
I did love it but I'd never admit this to Trent. The ambiance, the service, the food. "Now tell me what the O'Hara's said when you called them. They're nice, aren't they? And efficient, at least at the jobs they like to do," I said, studying the dessert menu.
"May I take your dessert order?" our waiter interrupted.
"Come back in a few minutes. We haven't decided. All good news, Pen. Tim said the storage unit is up. He asked me drive up to Wickenburg to get supplies. He and Matt don't want to take the time to drive up there. So he asked me if I'd go and I said I would. You're going, too. I'm going to rent a truck, a big one, after lunch."
Get out of town. I liked the sound of it. "I'll need to take a warm jacket. It might be cold in Wickenburg."
"I'll remind you. I don't want a cold woman hanging around. Do I detect you looking at the dessert menu?"
"I can't decide which dessert. They all sound delicious. Any suggestions?"
"Three. We'll order three desserts and share."
"Three? What are you trying to do, fatten me up?"
"Among other things, among other things."
"You pick one and I'll pick two."
Trent high-signed the waiter. "Bring three desserts. Two chocolate and one a surprise," he instructed. "Tell me about Teddy. What kind of little boy was he? What did he like to play with? What TV shows did he like? I really know very little about him. Except he was a blue-eyed blond and very handsome."
"You saw his picture on the desk, didn't you? Yes, he is, was, very handsome. What kind of little boy? Nice. A nice little boy. Full of energy, inquisitive, bubbly. He laughed a lot, wonderful sense of humor. He loved trucks, Tonka toys. He filled them with M&M's. TV? Believe it or not, his favorite TV show was America's Most Wanted. He was too young to watch it but I couldn't keep him away. He said someday he was going to find someone who was lost or stolen. Oh, here's our desserts. To die for."
To die for.
"Do you realize this is the first time I've seen you laugh, really laugh, in days?"
"I hadn't thought about it, but yes, you're right. I haven't had much to laugh about in a long time, Trent. My life has been on 'hold'." Someday I'll tell you the truth about Teddy. I wish I could tell you now, this very moment, but the timing's wrong. I wish I could watch your face as I say you had a son. A son you'll would never know, never meet, never hold in your arms. If you'd done things differently, your son would be alive.
"I'll divide up. Large portion for Pen. Small for Trent."
"It's supposed to be the other way around. I will take the larger. How far is it to Wickenburg?"
"One star, two moons, and turn right at the Milky Way. Or is it left? We'll get an early start. Matt and Tim are anxious to unload what we bring back. They're just like a coupla kids at Christmas. Cambridge means a lot to those two Irishmen. We're lucky."
"Yes, Cambridge does. When we found them we got more than we bargained for."
"I think I know the feeling, Pen Parsons. Now we'll go rent that truck. I'll drive it out to your place. You drive the Porsche."
"The Porsche. I didn't notice your saying my Porsche."
"It isn't mine. Belonged to Ashley."
"And you expect me to drive your wife's car? Your dead wife's car? Well, I won't. You drive it. I'll drive the truck."
"You aren't thinking straight, Penelope. You can't drive the truck. Your feet won't even touch the pedals. Ashley's car is just a car. Big deal. Don't tell me your jealous? Of Ashley? She's dead. Dead. Got it?"
"I am aware that she is dead. Don't you think I know dead when I hear it? My son is dead. But I'm not dead. And I am not driving Ashley's car."
"I can't drive a truck and a Porsche at the same time. I'll take you home. Matt or Tim will have to help me."
"Help you? I didn't know you ever needed any help."
"There's a lot you don't know about me."
"And I don't care to know."
We drove home in heavy silence.
"Tomorrow morning. Six sharp, don't be late," Trent ordered as I jumped out of the car.
Controlling, bossy Trent. He'd even forgotten to remind me to take a jacket. It was just like him.
Just like him.
I wasn't ready when Trent arrived. I hadn't slept well. A semi had rolled over me, left me crunched, lifeless in a dead zone. I'd been right about not driving Ashley's Porsche. I'd gone a little overboard on my behavior. Maybe I should have been more matter-of-fact when I told Trent how I felt. No emotion, no flare up. Blasé, impersonal. Driving together to Wickenburg was going to be hell.
Trent walked in carrying pink roses. He handed them to me with a theatrical sheepish look.
"I should give you half, and you know what I mean," I said.
"Peace offering. I was wrong yesterday. I shouldn't have asked you to drive Ashley's car. I need to borrow a shirt. Just any shirt. I spilled coffee all over mine at Circle K. Got anything I can wear? I hate to drive all the way back to Scottsdale to change."
"You could wear one of Steve's shirts. I gave him a t-shirt for Father's Day. You could wear it."
"Great, you won't drive Ashley's car -- but it's okay if I wear Steve's shirt right off his back!"
"I don't want to hear this so don't start! I gave this shirt to Steve for Father's Day but it was never on his back. He never wore it. I took a snapshot of Teddy to Wal-Mart's, had it put on the front of the shirt. It's a one-size-fits-all," I said as I held up a white t-shirt with Teddy's picture in the center.
"I'll wear it!" Trent growled. "Let's go!"
"I'm not ready. I need to slap on some sunscreen, get a hat."
"And take a warm jacket or sweater. I filled a thermos with coffee and bought some cinnamon rolls. We can have them on the way. I figure we'll stop for lunch at some little cafe near Wickenburg. It's another beautiful Arizona day!"
I hated his being so nice. "That is if we don't have a monsoon. Don't you ever think of anything but eating? Cinnamon rolls have a million calories."
"I think of a lot of things besides eating. Get a wiggle on, don't dilly- dally around. Come on, we need to get started. We want to get back before dark so the O'Hara's and I can unload."
"What about the faxes you were going to send as an incentive?" I asked, rubbing sunscreen on my arms and neck. Trent had loved doing this. His rubbing became caressing, caressing became love-making. I screwed the top on the sunscreen tube, threw it into my bag.
"I'm glad I'm not that tube. I took the fax list to a Kelly girl. Actually, she's not a girl. The law firm has used her before. She's good. Efficient. Quick. It looks like Cambridge is back in business. With the incentives we've sent to encourage orders, with the supplies we're picking up today, bottle rockets, multi colored flares, firecrackers, those specially designed flags, and with the new storage unit set up, with the O'Hara's working for us -- yes, Cambridge is back on track! Hurry up, get in the truck."
"In just a few days you've done all this, put this together. A dream? Or maybe a nightmare. Maybe it will turn out to be a nightmare. Some things do." Some things do.
"Pour me a cup of coffee and hand me a cinnamon calorie," he said, turning on the radio. "Music. Music while we drive to Wickenburg and cinnamon buns to soothe our fat cells, can we ask for more?"
"I'm really tired. I didn't sleep well last night."
"Sit back. Take a nap. I'll wake you when we stop for lunch," he said, shifting gears.
Promises, promises.
"Wake up. Lunch," Trent said, several hours later. "You really slept! Take your sweater. It might be cold in the restaurant."
"Annie's Forever. Quite a name for such a small place on the side of the road," I commented, as we entered a red door and seated ourselves at a table by a window with white crisscross curtains tied with red sashes.
"Hello, folks. My name's Annie. I'm your waitress for the day and owner of this place for life! That's why it's named Annie's Forever. What'll you have, besides the best cup of coffee in fifty states! Say, that's a good picture of your little boy on your t-shirt, mister. He's a cute little boy, and nice, too. Doesn't eat much though. He hardly touched his cheeseburger when he was here with his grandparents," Annie said, swinging around to pick up a coffee pot. "Here you are, like I said, and Annie doesn't lie, the best cup of coffee in fifty states!"
"You must be mistaken. This little boy doesn't have grandparents. His grandparents are dead. And he hasn't ever been in your restaurant," I said, struggling to control my voice.
"Has been. I know kids. I love kids. And I know kids. He was in here alright. Let me think when. It was about six, seven months ago. He didn't have a lot to say. His grandparents did most of the talking. He didn't eat much of his cheeseburger, which surprised me because little kids love my cheeseburgers. I told him to take it with him -- I'd wrap it up. He said he probably wouldn't eat it but maybe his Tony would. Tony. Tony. Tiger. Tonytiger."
"I feel sick, I am sick," I moaned.
"Take her to my room. It's in the back, follow me. She'll be alright, mister. Give me a second and I'll get a cold cloth to put on her head," Annie said, as she went into a bathroom. "My mother always said put a cold cloth on the head. Feed a fever, starve a cold. Or is it the other way around, I never can remember."
I was dreaming. Not the dream a dream should be but a dream of sharp toothed ghouls wearing thin masks, so thin their sunken eyes protruded, each eye a different size. "Trent, did you hear what she said? Did you hear what I heard?" Of course he hadn't. Ghouls grab ears, steal words. Little boys burn and burn and burn.
"That can't be Teddy. Not from what you've told me. Maybe she has him confused with another little boy. Or it's a coincidence. There has to be an explanation of some kind."
'Confused with another little boy'. I want him. May I have him? Someone is asking me if I understand. Someone is insisting I answer. What was the question?
"I said there has to be an explanation. Pen. Listen to me. There has to be an explanation."
Today is the first day of the rest of...he's dead. He's not dead. My little boy is so precious no fire can harm him. "Of course there has to be an explanation. I know that! But what? Okay, a look-alike. Look-like. I have him back.
"Or maybe this lady, Annie, is just a nut of some kind. Maybe not even a nut. Just a very lonely lady. That little boy couldn't have been Teddy."
Don't tell me. Don't say he couldn't be. Tell me a lie. "It is Teddy, it is! Who else would it be? What other little boy looks like Teddy and has a Tonytiger?"
"Kids don't look alike to me, if that's what you're getting at," Annie said. "Here, let me put this cold cloth on your head. How are you feeling, little lady? Gee, I'm sorry I upset you. I didn't know my telling you about your son would upset you. Lay back and keep that on your head. It'll help," she assured me.
"Annie, tell us more about this little boy. How old do you think he was? And Pen, show Annie a picture of Teddy."
I'll show you his picture. But you mustn't keep it.
"Yes, let me see a picture of him. He was five. I know because I asked him how old he was. I always ask little kids how old they are. And I ask when their birthday is. I give kids a little bag of M&M's and tell them it's a birthday present, early or late birthday present," Annie said, looking at the picture. "Yeah, this is the little boy I saw with those two people. His birthday, let me think. January. January something. My sister Taralyn's birthday, and my sister Charlotte's. And my cousin Phoebe's. Then there's Peggy's and Marcia's, and Jane's, my best friend, lives just down the street. His birthday is the twenty- seventh. January twenty-seventh. I have this thing with dates..."
Sit up straight. Don't slump. Clench your fists, hold on. "These two people, the ones you thought were the grandparents, what did they look like? And do you know where they were going? Say anything, I'm not going to pass out. I'm that little boy's mother."
Annie fooled with a pencil behind her ear. "Just average looking. In their fifties, I'd say. The man was about five-ten. And the woman about five-four. He had on a hat so I don't know what color his hair was or if he had any hair for that matter. She was a brunette and she had plenty of it. Hair. One of those fancy puffy hairdo's, kinda like mine but brunette instead of red. She was fat like me. He was skinny. His pants just hung. No buns. When they left I looked. No buns. I didn't hear them say where they were going. But their car had Vancouver plates. I know because I watched them drive away. I was kinda upset about the little boy. He didn't eat much, I told you this. I dunno, I just had kind of a sad feeling about that little boy."
A large knife was cutting birthday cake and chasing ghouls away. "His name's Teddy Cambridge. He is five. And his birthday is January twenty-seventh. He was killed in an explosion in a fireworks warehouse near Scottsdale. His father and our business partner were killed, too. He's dead." Dead. Killed. Same thing? Maybe killed is not dead. Maybe burn, burn, burn doesn't mean dead.
"Dead? Killed? Lady, I saw him. Whatever happened to him, he wasn't killed. I saw him with my own eyes. He was alive and well. Sad maybe, but alive. What about that Tonytiger? Did your boy, your Teddy, have a Tonytiger?"
My little boy. "Tonytiger was Teddy's favorite toy. He never went anywhere without Tony. His favorite candy? M&M's. Teddy isn't dead. The couple from Vancouver must have him! He's waiting for me to come for him!"
"I'm not sure," Trent interrupted. "All this sounds odd to me. But if he is alive we'll find him, we'll get him back. Now Annie, are you sure you're not making this up? If you are, say you are. How can you remember all this about a little boy you say you saw for what, a half-hour or so? If this is true you're a fantastic woman, what a memory. But if you're not sure, if you're making this up, tell us," Trent said.
Annie shrugged. "I may be a lot of things. But I'm no liar. I make up stories, sure, I make up stories. Who doesn't? But I'm no liar."
"Okay, we'll believe you. I'm Trent Summit and this is Pen Cambridge. We're on our way to pick up supplies for Cambridge Fireworks. We'll scrub it, go back to Scottsdale, look into this. Take my business card and Annie, call me, call us if..."
"Somebody up there likes you. The fact that you wandered into my place. I'm telling you the truth. Every word. I wouldn't lie about something like this. I'm a decent woman. Well, not real decent. But decent enough to tell you the truth. I'll fix you something to go. One of my cheeseburgers. Me, I can't eat them. I'm a too fat-German. I make them, you eat them. You take one of my business cards, they're real swanky. I go for class! You can call me. I'm here most of the time. I sure hope you find your son," Annie said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Hang around a few minutes while I fix you those burgers. My sisters are always telling me I'm a nosy-rosy, a busy-body. Wait 'til I tell them about this. I might even be on a talk show. Maybe on Oprah or Rosie or the View? Can you imagine me on TV?"
Believe, believe. "How can you not believe her, Trent? She knew so much about Teddy. How would she know these things if she hadn't seen him? I wish we hadn't doubted her. She was so nice, so patient," I exploded once they we were on our way back to Scottsdale.
"I want to believe her. I know you want to believe her. And I did believe her at first. She had me going. But the more she talked the more I began to wonder and doubt what she said. Think about it, Pen. She saw the picture of Teddy on my t-shirt. Steve's t-shirt. She began a conversation with us. Drew us out. Look, she could have seen Teddy's picture in the newspaper. She could be one of those people who enjoy exploiting others by sensationalism. Makes her feel important. I doubt she has much of a life. You heard what she said about what her sisters say to her, that she's a nosy-rosy busy-body. And about being on Oprah, on TV. She's probably lonely and wants attention."
I want him back. Don't tell me I can't have him back. He isn't buried. Not really buried. "She did see Teddy. I know she did. Teddy has been kidnapped by that couple who live in Vancouver. You said even if you didn't believe her you'd check it out. Now you're having misgivings, you're unsure. How can I really believe in you, Trent? One minute you say one thing and the minute you say another. You don't need to get involved. I can find him, I will find him, by myself. If I have to scour every inch of Vancouver to find my son, I will!"
"I meant what I said back there. Part of me believes her, part of me doesn't. I hate to see you get your hopes up and then find out Annie is making all this up. You've gone through so damn much. I don't want you to go through anymore. You can't take any more!"
"Take any more? What do you know about what I can and can't take? Where were you when I was taking it? Just watch me, keep your eye on me. And keep your eye on the highway, you almost hit a cat back there! We don't need a dead cat! Or an accident. We do need the police. Definitely. Police. I'd call them now but I'd really rather talk to them in person. As soon as we get to Scottsdale I'm going to contact the police and tell them every thing Annie has said. With their sophisticated technology they may find Teddy in a few hours. My son may be back home in a few hours. You can't know what this means. You don't understand, how could you? You've never had a son." I was babbling and I knew it.
"There goes our weather and here comes the monsoon," Trent grumbled.
Rain pelted us relentlessly, beating the roof of the truck. Leaves littered the windshield, clogging the wipers. The blacktop shined with the slime of old oil. The road was a swollen river without banks or edges.
"I can't see a thing! We're going to have to pull over. Check the back window, is there a car behind us?" Trent asked.
I loosened my seat belt, pivoted around, got on my knees. "I don't see any headlights. Where can you pull over? Where's the road, the edge of the road?"
Suddenly I felt and heard metal twisting. I fell from my knees into the dashboard then onto the floor. The car was slipping, sliding, mud oozed onto my hands, slopped into my face, clogged my eyes and mouth.
"We're hit! We're hit!" Trent screamed.
We were spinning, rolling over and over. I shot from the floor to the top of the roof. Finally, we stopped.
"What happened, who hit us?" I asked, spitting mud from my mouth.
"A hit and run. Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay, I think I'm okay. I can crawl out."
"Use your cell phone, call 911! I'm hurt, Pen, I'm bleeding! I could die!"
He could die. I needed him. I couldn't find Teddy without him. Damn.
"I'm not going home. Take me to a police station. Time is critical. We've already lost a lot of time with that damn accident, that hit and run. 911 took forever. So did the hospital and the police, getting a rental car. Lucky neither of us were hurt. I wish the police had listened to me about Teddy. If they had, I wouldn't have to go to the station. After you talk to the O'Hara's, come back for me," I insisted.
"Alone? Are you going in to the police station alone? Don't you want me to be there?"
"Time is important. We don't have time to talk to the O'Hara's and drive back to the police station. I'm sorry we didn't pick up the supplies. I realize Matt and Tim will be disappointed. But it can't be helped. They can take the truck and drive to Wickenburg tomorrow. Explain it to them. Slow down, there's a police station up ahead. Just let me out. Oh, give me that card Annie gave you. I'll want to show it to the police. Come back for me as soon as you can. By then the police may have some news about Teddy."
I was sitting on the steps of the police station when Trent returned an hour later.
I walked to the car slowly, opened the door and stood looking at Trent. My voice was void of emotion.
"They aren't interested. They said Annie is a fake, a phony. The minute I showed them her card they knew who I was talking about. They've heard these stories before. She just makes up things. They said everything she told us about Teddy was what we wanted to hear. She reads stuff in the newspapers and tells customers she knows the people. You were right. But Trent, what if this time, this one time, Annie was telling the truth? What if she did see Teddy? She did know a lot about him, things that weren't in the newspapers!"
"Pen, she made it all up. Lots of little kids have stuffed toys, don't they? Probably a Tonytiger. I bet the stores sell hundreds of them."
"What about his birthday? Annie knew when Teddy's birthday was. How would she know that?"
"His obituary. Check it out and I bet you'll see that his birthday was listed. Did you put Teddy's picture in the obituary?"
"Yes."
"Okay. So I'm wearing Steve's shirt with Teddy's picture on it. Annie has seen the picture in the obituary column. She remembers it. A lot of what she said is what she read or heard on the news. I told you some people thrive on other people's grief. Annie's life is dull. She makes up things to help her cope. She fantasizes. Usually it doesn't hurt anyone. I don't think Annie means to hurt anyone. But this time she has."
"I'm going."
"Going? Going where?"
"To Vancouver. I know my son is alive. Annie may have made up stories about other things but this time she's telling the truth. She did see Teddy. Tonytiger was real. She did remember Teddy. He was with two people from Vancouver. And I'm going to find him!"
"You're a fool. Annie has made this all up. Teddy's dead. He died in that explosion. Don't do this to yourself. Accept the fact that Annie made this all up, it's just a story. Teddy is dead."
"How would you know? You've never even met him. He's somewhere in Vancouver. Waiting for me to come for him. I know. I have a mother's heart. My heart tells me he's alive. Don't argue with me, Trent. I'm going to Vancouver. I need money. I need a loan."
"When are we leaving?"
"We? Who said anything about 'we'? Just loan me the money."
"Do you think I'll let you take on Vancouver alone, Pen?"
"I'd rather go alone. You stay here and help the O'Hara's with the company."
"I can be in two places. Between phones, e-mails, faxes, I can be in two places. So when are we leaving?"
"Just as soon as we can get an airline reservations and pack. Drive me home."
"Here, use my cell, yes, I said cell, I got us a coupla of them. Get us a reservation. Start with Northwest. If they don't have anything call Pacific West. Take my credit card," he said, handing me his wallet. "We can pick up our tickets and boarding passes at the airport. It's cold in Vancouver. Do you have any warm clothing?"
"Not much. I'll take what I can."
"We can buy anything you need in Vancouver. What are you doing?"
"What business is it of yours? I'm crying. Just shut up."
"Great idea. Cry in Arizona where all your tears will be warm."
"What does that mean?"
"It means tears are warmer in Arizona than they are in Vancouver."
"Just shut up."
"I'm not absolutely positively sure I know what you mean."
It means I know what I'm doing.
Grant McConachie Way leading across Sea Island's Vancouver International Airport was killer in five o'clock traffic. An accident on the Arthur Laine Bridge lay mangled, pushed to one side of the road, waiting for wreckers, and causing one lane passage. Trent guided the rental Rivera past the scene across Marpole, to Granville, up to Shaughnessy Heights.
"There's an inn near Van Dusen Botanical Gardens. Hopefully we can get a room. I didn't call. Watch me on your side. I have to merge into the right lane."
"You certainly know your way around here. Have you been here before?"
"Yes. But I don't know my way around. I do know the way to the inn. Gull's Inn. It's on our right. White with twin turrets. Gingerbread Victorian. Built in the mid-eighteen-sixties. Bed and breakfast. And can I ever use breakfast. The food on the plane? What was it? See anything that even looks like twin turrets?"
"Not yet. At least the traffic is thinning out. When were you here? When did you stay at the Gull's Inn?"
"With Ashley. On our honeymoon."
"So now you expect me to stay at the same inn? You complained about wearing Steve's t-shirt but you expect me to stay at the same inn where you and Ashley honeymooned? Well, I'm not staying there. You'll have to find another place."
"There it is. Gull's Inn. What the hell, let's just stay tonight. We're here. Tomorrow we'll look for something else," Trent said, turning into a small parking area marked 'Gull guests only'.
"No. I'm not staying here tonight or any night. The next thing I know you'll ask me to stay in the same room that you and Ashley had."
"Stay put. I'm going in and see if they even have a room."
"I'm not staying put. I'm going in with you to use the ladies' in the lobby. Find out about another place for us to stay. A motel."
But there wasn't any 'ladies' in the lobby nor was there a lobby, only a wide foyer elegantly appointed in black horsehair chairs, a worn Persian rug, several honey beech tables and Tiffany lamps.
I slumped down in one the horsehair chairs and slid off immediately. Holding onto the arms, I sat down again.
"You're not dressed properly for horsehair. Years ago woman dressed like women, skirts, not jeans," a woman in her sixties scolded.
"Are you the manager?"
"I am. And the owner. I'm Gladys Gooch. Your husband says you want to stay at the Gull. He said he stayed with us years ago. Were you with him? I don't remember you. You don't look at all familiar to me."
I looked up into the woman's eyes. The color of the sea on a gray morning, they sparkled with hostility. Her auburn hair was twisted and knotted in a bun at the nape of her neck. Cameo earrings were her only jewelry.
"No, I haven't stayed here. It's just as well you don't have any rooms for us. I'd rather go to a motel," I said, rising from the chair. "As for full skirts compatible to horsehair chairs, I think they went out years ago. Jeans have been in for a couple of years or so. Where's the man I came in with?"
"Your husband has signed our register and is getting your luggage from your car, I believe."
I approached Trent as he was setting my bags on the driveway. "What do you think you're doing? I thought we had this settled. I'm not staying at horsehair- Gull-Ashley-Inn. So put the luggage back in the car and let's drive around until we find a motel. A Hilton or Radisson will do fine."
Trent pushed past her into the foyer. "Dinner's in fifteen minutes. Mrs. Gooch has invited us to join her for dinner. Lobster, crabcakes, potato patties. Some kind of chocolate dessert. Bring in your carry-on. We barely have enough time to freshen up."
I grabbed my carry-on and with my right foot kicked the car door shut.
"Mrs. Gooch, I'd like a room to myself," I demanded, struggling with the bag.
"A room to yourself? I don't offer rooms for singles. Maybe that's done in motels, commercial places, but Gull doesn't do singles. This is a couples' world. If you and your husband have had a tiff and you want to sleep alone, it won't be at the Gull. Dinner is in eleven minutes. You're in Eagles' Nest. Up the stairs to your right."
I dragged the bag up the stairs and into a room marked 'Eagles' Nest'. Two large windows, two tables, one lamp, a long oak dresser with a mirror, two chairs. One bed.
"You can have the windows, tables, lamp, dresser, chairs. I'll take the bed. There aren't any single rooms. Mrs. Gooch doesn't do singles. I thought we came to Vancouver to find Teddy. Not a beddy-bye reunion. You knew all along the Gull doesn't offer single rooms, didn't you? That's why you chose it. And the reason you wanted to come along with me is sex. Not Teddy! You don't give a damn about him. You don't even believe he's still alive. You came along for the ride and I'm the ride!"
"I admit I knew the Gull doesn't take singles or have single rooms. Okay, I admit it. But I do care for Teddy. What do you take me for? He's your son, isn't he? Of course I care for him. I didn't come with you just for sex. But for you and I to have a beddy-bye reunion, as you call it, what's wrong with it? We loved one another once, we made love two, three times a day, or have you forgotten? As for you being the 'ride' -- that's uncalled for and gross. I don't like to hear you talk that way. It isn't becoming."
"It isn't uncalled for. You're uncalled for. Sneaking around, making plans to get me back into bed with you."
"And so you hate the idea. My sneaking around, my making plans to get you back into bed with me. What's the matter? Don't you want me? I can remember when you couldn't get enough of me. Don't I appeal to you anymore?"
"Want you? Appeal to me? You appeal to me as much as a rattlesnake. We're going to be late for dinner. Where's the bathroom?"
"Down the hall to your left. Who or what are you afraid of? Admit you're wrong about why I came. If Teddy's alive, we will find him. Did you hear the word 'we'?"
"I heard it!"
"One more thing. You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the floor. Or we could use a bundling board, that is, if we had one."
"Take the floor. Keep the floor. I'll meet you downstairs. Look for me. I'm the one in jeans who slides off of horsehair furniture right into someone's honeymoon looking for a five-year-old!"
Take the floor. Take me.
Last night's riot at Point Kerrisdale police station had killed one and wounded six. Sixteen inmates had gone berserk, demanding their rights and better conditions.
"Lemme see your passports and driver's licenses," the cop on duty said as we attempted to enter the station's double doors. "You do have passports?"
Trent reached into his jacket pocket. "We sure do. Here you are."
I lowered my head. Passport?
"Okay, go ahead. We had a riot here last night. A bad one. So we have to be extra cautious about who gets and who gets out. What's your business? Maybe I can direct you?"
"Kidnapping. My son has been kidnapped. He was kidnapped in the United States. In Arizona. The kidnappers have brought him here to Vancouver," I explained.
The cop blew a slow whistle between his lips. "Don't say. Well, the man you want to see here is Harry Shoth. Ask at the main desk or better still, after you get to the main desk turn left. Shoth's office is the first one. He's our Deputy Director of Vancouver Police Affairs. Good luck. I hope you find your little boy. I have one of my own, sure wouldn't want anything to happen to him."
"My passport. When and how did you get my passport?" I asked Trent as we turned the corner into Harry Shoth's office.
"I went through your drawers the morning we left. You were in the shower."
"How did you even know I had a passport?" I asked, throwing Trent an angry look.
"I didn't know. In fact, to tell you the truth I didn't think you had one. Whatta relief when I found it. Why did you have one? It's never been used."
"We're looking for your Deputy Director Harry Shoth. I'm Mrs. Cambridge and this is Trent Summit," I said to a plainclothes man sitting at a desk in Shoths' office.
"Shoth? He's in the building but I don't know where. We had a riot last night. Maybe you heard about it or read it in the early morning edition? A group of inmates went on the rampage. About their rights. Commit a crime and then live in luxury, this is what they think they're entitled to. What do you want to see Shoth about? Maybe I can help you. I'm his assistant. Garrick Deveuox. Call me Garrick. My last name's a tongue twister."
"I hope you can help us. We're from the United States. I'm Pen Cambridge and this is Trent Summit. We're looking for my little boy. Teddy Cambridge. He was kidnapped in Arizona, Scottsdale, Arizona. By a Vancouver couple."
"Has the Scottsdale police sent us anything on this? I don't remember reading anything about a kidnapping in Arizona sent to us here in Vancouver. You say this was months ago? How old is your little boy?" Garrick asked.
"Teddy is five. No, the Scottsdale police haven't contacted you. We just learned that Teddy was kidnapped and brought here. I talked to the Scottsdale police but they weren't interested."
"Why not? Listen, why don't you sit down and let me fill in a full report. If you want coffee I have some. Keep a pot going all the time right here in the office. I'm addicted. I'll get some for the three of us. Black? Cream and sugar? I can offer you a croissant but I don't dare eat one. My girlfriend has me on a diet. This week it's tuna every day."
"Black for both of us will be fine. No croissants, we've had breakfast at the Gull," Trent said.
"The Gull? Nice place. Gladys Gooch runs it. Great cook. She's a spinster. No family at all. Or that's what I've heard. Me, I'm a local. Never stayed at any of the inns here. So now tell me from the beginning. I don't get the point. You lost me. If your son has been kidnapped in Scottsdale and brought here to Vancouver, why didn't we hear about it and why weren't the Scottsdale police interested," Garrick wondered, handing us our coffee.
"I'll start from the beginning. About seven months ago my husband's fireworks company, Cambridge Fireworks, had an explosion and a fire. My husband Steve was killed, our son, Teddy, was killed and my husband's partner was killed. The company was going bankrupt. I couldn't keep it going, it was about to fold. I asked Trent, Mr. Summit, to help me..."
"When I went over the books I found that the partner, a man by the name of Gordie Horton, had been embezzling from the company. To pay gambling debts, I suspect. I also learned Horton is not only an embezzler, he's an arsonist. And he had an insurance policy on Steve Cambridge. I strongly suspect he set the explosion, the fire, to kill Steve Cambridge, to cover his gambling debts. I don't think he meant to kill Teddy or himself. Something went wrong. Teddy and Horton were also killed.
"But a few days ago Pen and I drove to a small town to pick up supplies. We stopped at a small cafe just before you get to the town. A woman named Annie, the owner of the cafe, insists she saw Teddy. Alive. With a man and woman whose car had Vancouver license plates. This Annie said she recognized Teddy by the photo on the front on my t-shirt, one of those fad t-shirts, you know the kind I mean? She had a lot of information about Teddy. We're convinced that somehow Teddy is alive. That the Vancouver couple have him."
"When I went to the Scottsdale police with what we know, what this Annie told us, the police said Annie is a fake, a phony, that she makes up stories all the time. That they've heard of her before. They don't believe Annie, they don't believe me. They refuse to give us any help. They claim Teddy is dead. And Annie is a liar. We came to Vancouver on our own. We know Teddy is alive, we have to find out," I said.
Garrick picked up a pencil and tapped it on his desk. He leaned back in his chair, took a gulp of coffee, then put the pencil behind his ear. "I dunno. Doesn't sound right to me. This Annie. I mean we get 'Annie's' all the time. Women, men, kids who are lonely, just want attention. Want to be celebs, on talk shows. Their fifteen minutes of fame. If your Scottsdale police aren't interested, if they figure this woman is a liar, that your son really is dead, I don't see how on earth we here in Vancouver can help you. It costs money, big money, to take on a case like this. And if there isn't evidence, or I should say, any more evidence than what you're giving me, well, we can't help you. I'd turn your case over to Larry Larkin if I thought for a minute he could help you. But even he can't."
"Maybe when Mr Shoth comes in? Maybe he'll feel like our case has merit. I realize it seems to be just what you're saying. But I'm a mother. Teddy's mother. And I have a mother's heart. I know, I know, Teddy is here in Vancouver!" I asserted, holding back tears.
"Sure, I know how difficult it is. I see a lot of cases. I wish I could help. I wish Shoth could help. But he can't. Look, why don't you just accept what's happened. You can't change any of it. Accept the fact that your son, what was his name? That your son is dead," Garrick pleaded.
"Accept it? You don't even remember his name! Teddy. His name is Teddy. Is. Not was Teddy. You say 'accept it'. Get on with my life? Teddy is my life. And he's here in your city, your Vancouver. I'll find him. We'll find him. I never give up. Come on, Trent, let's go. I have a son to find."
Trent took my hand as we walked through the double doors. He tightened his grip, then pulled me to him. "I'm on your side -- and I'm not talking about a bed!"
"But you're probably thinking it! Right about now I could use your side. Oh Trent, what do we do now? I thought the Vancouver police would help us. They could care less. Garrick was nice, he was pleasant, he was kind. At least he didn't throw us out of the office. But none of this can help us find Teddy. What shall we do next? What about that private investigator, the one you call Chan?"
"Chan's working something for someone. Not for me. Let's put an ad in the newspapers. And order some fliers made."
"What about the kidnappers? What if they see the fliers, read the ad? Won't they be tipped off? Won't we scare them away?"
"This is the chance we have to take. We'll go to the copier first. Not to a newspaper. We'll have a thousand prints made at the copier with Teddy's picture and his description."
"Are you hungry? You always are. Should we get something to eat on our way?"
"No. I'm not hungry. Are you?"
"If you aren't hungry that must mean you're past the stages of worry. Which makes me worry. Hungry, me?"
"Hand me that map and the phone book I borrowed from the Gull. I want to locate copiers," Trent explained.
"You borrowed the Gull's phone book? I doubt you 'borrowed' it. More like stole it. Mrs. Beady-Eye-horsehair will be furious if she finds out."
"Yeah. I may lose the floor I sleep on. You know, we need a cellular phone in this car."
"Can we do that? Have one installed in a rental car?"
"Maybe. I don't know. But we need one. After we place our ad and get our copies we'll turn the car in and buy a car with a cell."
"Just like that. Buy a car so you can have a cell. Must be nice to have so much money. Has your law practice made you that much?"
"My law practice has made me a lot of money. But the real money, the big money, has come from Ashley's insurance. I guess I should tell you this. You'll hear about it sometime, someday, somewhere. It might as well come from me," Trent told me, holding a map in one hand and driving with the other.
"Her insurance? So how much? And what about relatives? Didn't she have any relatives? Parents, sisters, brothers?"
"Parents are dead. No brothers. One sister. Cass. She lives in Tucson. We've never met. She didn't come to our wedding. Why? I don't know. How much? A great deal. Here, hold the map. Find a street called Highgate. I think we're close to it. Has a copier, place by the name of Wilson's."
"Highgate? Yes, one more block. Was Cass older?"
"Ashley's twin. Identical. Highgate. Wilson's Copies. We're here. Get out your pictures of Teddy and decide on the one you want the copiers to print. Well, you can use more than one picture. A couple might be better than one."
"Don't park here. It's a no parking zone. We don't want a ticket, not here in Vancouver. Unless it would get us some attention and some clout to find my son. There's a place across the street, take it!" my voice was high pitched and shrill.
The Rivera barely fit in the small space. Trent had to back in, then pull forward several times before he finally positioned the car. I opened my door and had jumped out before Trent turned off the ignition.
"I wish you wouldn't do that. Wait until I've stopped and turned off the engine, will you?"
"Maybe when this is over and we've found Teddy. Do you need any change? I don't have any Vancouver coins."
"I have some. Get out Teddy's pictures. And figure what you want to say in the fliers. Something catchy."
"Like Most Wanted. Or Unsolved Mysteries. I wish John Walsh was here. He and his show are Teddy's very favorite. Trent, I'm shaking so badly I don't know if I can even open the door to this place."
"I can open it for you. Me, I'm good. I sleep on floors. I open doors for ladies. I help order fliers for lost little boys. I hold hands and stuff like that. When I'm allowed. Take my arm, I'll lead you inside this joint and astray if possible."
A slender man, probably in his late twenties, came forward. "What do you need?" he asked.
"About a thousand copies of fliers. To find my son. I have several pictures of him. And I can furnish you a bio of him," I offered, handing him the pictures.
"Okay. A thousand? Let me show you what we colors we have for paper and then we'll look at print types and colors. And print sizes. Nice looking little boy. About five, six? Custody case? Divorce?" he asked, looking from me then back to Trent.
"No, no, nothing like that. He's been kidnapped. Kidnapped in Arizona, in the United States, and brought here to Vancouver. By a couple. I'm his mother. My name's Cambridge. My little boy is Teddy. Teddy Cambridge. How long will it take you to print our fliers for us? We're anxious to get started...to put them in store windows."
"Well, I can have them ready for you by four tomorrow. But you have to have a permit to put them in stores."
"Permit? Where do we get this permit?"
"At the Vancouver Court House. It's in West Point Grey, near Pacific Spirit Park. On West 16th Avenue and Crown."
"I'll find it. We'll give you our order, come back tomorrow at four and pick up the fliers. By four we'll have our permit," Trent assured him.
"Suits me. Take a look at the books and select your paper, print size, print style. Or do you want me to suggest something?" he asked me.
Pen waved her hands. "I know nothing about printing. You suggest what you think our fliers should look like. Start with Teddy's pictures first. Where they should be placed on the paper and so forth."
"No problem, lady. I'm Wilson, Wil Wilson. I've been doing this for years. I'll set it all up for you. You come back tomorrow about four and I'll have a thousand ready for you," he said.
Trent opened his wallet and handed him a credit card. "Charge it all on this," he said.
"No need. I'll get it when you come back."
"You're trusting. How do you even know we'll be back?" I asked.
"You're hunting for your son? You'll be back! I know a mother when I see one."
"Trusting soul, isn't he?" I said to Trent. "Next to the court house for that permit, right?"
"Yes. It's way over on the other side of town. I'll need the map again. What's that on the windshield?"
I climbed out of the car and took something green from underneath the windshield wiper.
"A ticket. Parking violation. Improper parking. Guess you weren't supposed to park this big car in that small space. It says to report within twenty-four hours at any police station. The fine? Fifty dollars."
"Stick it in the glove compartment. We'll pay it tomorrow," Trent said, easing out of the small space and into traffic.
The ride to the Vancouver Court House took over an hour. One way streets going the wrong way, a right turn into the Pacific Sprint Park instead of a left turn and barricades placed inconveniently caused Trent to drive out of our way and back some ten miles.
"I think that building we just passed is the Court House. Make a U-turn and we've got it made," I said with enthusiasm.
"The sign back there said no U-turns. But what the hell, I'll make one anyway. If we get another ticket we'll just add it to the one we all ready have," Trent said, pivoting the car around.
"We're back to that Vancouver coin deal for the parking meter. Do you have any?"
"Sure. Take a handful and drop some in. Remind me to get some more change though, I'm running low."
"Say, I meant to ask you more about my passport, Trent. You said you went through my drawers while I was in the shower? Listen, I don't like that at all. You shouldn't be going through my drawers."
"Get out and let's go in. Pretty classy courthouse, isn't it? Looks new. If I hadn't snooped around and brought your passport do you know where you'd be right now?"
"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me. What floor is the permit office on? What does the registry say?"
"Second floor. Elevators to the right. You can't enter Vancouver without a passport. You'd be waiting on the dock. Room 211. That's us," Trent said, giving me a shove forward and out the elevator.
Trent spotted a pink sign in sheet placed by the door. He wrote our names, motioned for me to take a seat.
"Wonder how long this will take?" I asked, wishing I'd brought my jacket. "It's cold in here."
"Cambridge Summit," someone called.
"That's us," Trent announced.
"Room A. Mrs. Hodgins."
"Hodgins? Mrs. Hodgins? I'm Trent Summit and this is Pen Cambridge. We're here for a permit to place fliers," Trent said, offering his hand.
"You're in the right place. Now let me see. Are you residents?"
"No, we're visitors," Trent offered.
"How long have you been in Vancouver?"
"Just a few days," I said.
"You must be in Vancouver six months before we can issue a permit for placing fliers. Come back in six months. The fee is seventy-five dollars. You'll need proof of the six months residency. You can obtain a form in Room 212. But they've gone to lunch. Come back at three. Room 212 will be open by then," Hodgins instructed.
We were silent as we left Hodgins' office.
"What now? We have a thousand fliers to distribute and no permit. Six months. Is she kidding? In six months Teddy could be anywhere. Maybe we should go back to that first police station and ask for some help. You have to pay your parking fine anyway. Trent, are you listening? You act like you're miles away," I scolded.
"I am miles away. Trying to figure out just how we're going to get a permit. Not the police. No way. They won't help us. Maybe we can have one made up."
"You mean a counterfeit permit? Trent, for a lawyer you sure bend the law. First you go through my drawers and now you're figuring how to make a counterfeit permit. Haven't your heard about counterfeiting being a crime?"
"What happened to the elevator? I pushed the button. Of course I know about counterfeiting being a crime. Do you have any other ideas or suggestions? Push the button. Maybe you can get the elevator," he grumbled.
"One suggestion I have is to walk down. See that sign over there? It says the elevators don't operate after eleven-thirty and it's almost noon. Why don't we just forget the permit. Place our fliers wherever we want them?" I asked, heading for the stairs.
"Do you realize you almost took my hand? Slow down on these stairs. They may be treacherous."
"Treacherous? You use the word like it's your brother. You need to work out more. Take your hand? You wish."
"Let's go get something to eat. I'll drive and you look for a place. There should be someplace in the park."
"We have time on the meter. Let's walk. You need it."
"Maybe we'll find cotton candy and hot dogs in the park," Trent said hopefully. "Walk faster, I'm starving. Hey, I think I see a place to eat up ahead."
"That's a hamburger stand, Trent. Pure fat. No, let's look for a place with salads."
"One burger isn't going to kill us. Make us two cheeseburgers with everything, two fries, two cokes," he said as we approached a stand on wheels.
"We call our fries 'chips', mister. How ya doin'? You talk like Americans."
"Yes, we're Americans."
"Here on holiday?"
"Not exactly. We're here to find my son. Five years old -- stolen. Here, I'll show you his picture," I said, opening my handbag and withdrawing one of Teddy's pictures.
The vender dropped the chips he had started to give to Trent. "I know this kid. He comes here with his mother. He really loves my cheeseburgers and my chips."
"You mean you've seen him here? Are you kidding us?" Trent asked.
"No sir. I am not kidding you one little bit. This kid comes here, eats at my stand once a week, sometimes twice a week. I seen him with his mother."
"What's his name? Did he tell you his name?" I asked.
"Yeah, I think he did. Tony. I think he said his name was Tony."
"Are you certain he didn't say Teddy?"
"No, he said Tony all right. But he had a Teddy. Some kind of tiger he carried around with him. All beat up. Only had one eye. I guess little kids love their toys whether they're beat up or not. Me, I never had any kids. So what do I know?"
"Your name. What's your name? Where do you live?" Trent asked.
"My name's Simon. I call myself Simple Simon. Kids like it. It's not my real name. I live south of here. Horrible place. Not fitting but all I want to pay. What about this little kid, this Tony?"
"I am his mother. Not that woman you've seen him with. His name is Teddy. He calls his tiger Tony. Where does that woman live, the one who pretends she's his mother?" My voice was so high pitched it was squeaky.
"I dunno where she lives. I just see her and the kid once, twice a week. Maybe you oughta call the police. I ain't afraid of the police. I never done nothin' wrong. Me, I don't even make a move without the police givin' me a permit."
"Permit? Do you have to have a permit for selling out of your wagon?" Trent wanted to know.
"Sure, buddy. Everything has to get a permit. I keep mine right out in the open, see it? Right on the wall there. Had a permit for so many years nobody ever even checks it. What about callin' the police? You don't need a permit to call them."
"Pen, I need to put some money in the meter. Come with me," Trent ordered.
"What's all this about? Since when does it take two people to put money in the meter?" I asked as we walked away from Simon.
"Don't you get it? Didn't you hear him? He has a permit. A permit. Right there on his wall. I'm going to borrow it. You keep him busy."
"Do you know stealing from borrowing? Trent, you're not borrowing. Forget it. Don't involve me in your dumb ideas."
"Pen, do you want Teddy back?"
"Of course I do!"
"Then we have to borrow Simon's permit. And you have to keep him busy."
"Alright. I'll try," I agreed, walking back towards Simon's cart. "Simon, we want to thank you for your help. Yes, you're right, we'll go to the police. But don't tell that woman who pretends to be Teddy's mother about us, will you? I mean the thing of it is, if she finds out about us, about our looking for Teddy, she'll probably never come back here. Bad for us and bad for your business. We're staying at the Gull Inn. Here, take this card. You can call us at the Gull if you see that woman with my son. When we find Teddy, you'll get a reward, Simon," I promised, standing in front of Trent and keeping Simon's attention on me.
"Me a reward? Never got one in my life. I don't care about a reward. A medal. I'd rather have me a medal. How about a medal?"
"The best medal in the world. It will say, 'to Simon, a very brave vendor for his valor and his good heart,' " Trent said, pocketing Simon's permit.
"What's this valor stuff?" Simon wanted to know.
"That's for keeping your mouth shut around Teddy's pretend mother, Simon," I promised.
"Me, I got valor. Lots and lots of valor," Simon assured us as we walked away from him towards the rental car.
"And we have a permit. And a line on Teddy. Now all we have to do is pick up those fliers tomorrow at four, come back here and put a flier in every shop in this area. If that woman has brought Teddy to Simon's, she might have brought him to other places. The park definitely. Little kids love parks." Trent acted like I didn't know a thing about little kids.
"Trent, shouldn't we hang around Simon's and watch for that woman to show up with Teddy?"
"You bet. But in the meantime, while we're waiting, we should really alert the businesses here. She may not show up at Simon's for days, who knows? Simon's been warned to watch for her, to watch for Teddy and he has the Gull's phone number. I think we're on a hot lead. I can feel it, we're hot."
"I know we are. I wish I could cry or something. But I feel numb all over. I can't really believe this is happening."
"That mother's heart you keep talking about."
"I know one thing. You should get a medal."
"And what will it say? Something about 'valor'?"
"Maybe. With something added."
"What would that be?"
"You'll have to wait to find out!"
"You're an awful tease."
"Awful?"
"Okay. Just a tease."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"You'll have to wait to find out."
You'll have to wait...but while you're waiting...
Wil Wilson had no back-log of print orders. He took his work seriously, perhaps too seriously, according to his doctor. The order concerning the kidnapped child, Teddy Cambridge, was of great importance. This work had to be his very best.
Wilson set the automatic page counter on his graphic machine to one thousand, punched the start button and walked away to another print job. Twenty minutes later he returned to a completed and perfect pile of bright blue fliers with black and yellow print. One large picture of Teddy Cambridge and his name were placed slightly off-center to attract immediate attention. To its left and its right was a description of him and facts pertaining to his kidnapping. Gull Inn's phone number, Pen's home phone and address, Pen Cambridge -- mother of the little boy -- and the word Reward were placed near the bottom of the page with a small picture of Teddy. Along the edges of the fliers were the words 'find me,' I need your help,' remember my face,' 'I'm just a little kid' 'I want my Mother'.
We walked in as Wil packed the fliers into boxes.
"Your order is ready, I'm just boxing it up. Take a look at one of the fliers. If I do say so myself, the job turned out pretty well. Real catchy, don't you think?" Wil said.
We each picked up a flier.
"Wonderful! They turned out wonderful. The colors are eye appealing. And the words around the edges, well, you did an extra special job, Mr Wilson," I exclaimed. "Thanks very much!"
"Thanks, glad you like them. Did you get your permit?" he asked Trent.
"Sure. No problem. Do you keep it or make a copy? The fliers look great. We certainly appreciate your expertise. Now what do I owe you?" Trent asked.
"I don't keep it. Usually make a copy but in your case I won't need to. Call it an even fifty," Wilson said.
"Fine," Trent said, handing Wilson his Visa.
"If you need more fliers, call me. I'll keep the plates," Wilson said.
"We'll do that. It's a pleasure to do business with you, Wilson," Trent said, picking up two of the boxes while I took the third.
"Same here. Good luck finding your little boy," Wilson offered, holding the door for us.
"I can't wait to get started putting these in store windows," I said as Trent took the box and placed it in the trunk of the car.
"I saw a McDonald's back there. Let's start with it. This is a long way from the park and Simon's hamburger stand but who knows where that couple are living? Hand me that phone book. There must be a hundred McDonald's in Vancouver, Pen. Oh, and begin making a list of where we're putting the fliers," Trent ordered.
"I will if you'll buy me a notebook. I don't have a thing to write on. Unless I use one of the fliers."
"Yeah, we can spare one flier, I think. We'll pick up a notebook someplace."
The manager of the McDonald's was receptive and willing to place the flier in four places - two windows and by each door. He didn't ask for our permit.
"What about my permit? Do you want to see it?" Trent asked.
The manager shook his head. "Permit? I don't need to see it. If the printer handed you these fliers, that's good enough for me," he said. "Want something to eat? On the house?"
"No thanks. We really don't have time. We're anxious to get these fliers placed. Are all McDonald's as nice as you are?" I asked.
"Yeah, sure, I guess so, lady. See ya! Good luck," he said.
We sat in the car with the motor idling as Trent read through the list of McDonald's in the Gull's telephone book.
"See? You didn't need to steal Simon's permit. Now don't you feel bad?"
"I did not steal it, Pen. I just borrowed it. Simon won't miss it. You heard what he said about having it for years and never being bothered by the police. I'll put it back exactly where I found it and he'll never be the wiser or worse for it."
"Well, I don't think you should have borrowed it or whatever you want to call it. He might have loaned it to us if we'd asked. Darn, it's starting to rain. Hard, too."
Trent turned on the windshield wipers. "Look, Pen, if we're going to get Teddy back we are going to have to take chances. Pussyfooting around isn't going to get him back."
"Or win you that medal. Find another Mac's and Burger King."
"Where else do little kids hang out?" Trent asked, putting the car in gear and moving into traffic.
"Movies. Playgrounds. Schools, even in the summer. Schools have programs for kids in the summer. Give me the phone book and I'll look up schools. It's really raining hard now, you can turn the wipers to full speed. Their swish-swish drives me crazy. Oh, I see a Mac's up ahead."
"Wait for me. I'll take the fliers in this time. No sense in both of us getting wet," Trent suggested, stopping the car. "I'll leave the motor running. And with it that swish-swish you dislike."
Within a few minutes Trent returned with the fliers under his jacket.
"No dice. The manager was gone, the assistant manager insisted on seeing the permit, said it isn't valid. It's expired. Damn Simon, he let me steal a permit that's expired!" Trent ranted.
"That's what you get for stealing."
"Ever heard of forgery? Forge it. I'll have to change the expiration date. Not here. I need white ink to eradicate the invalid expiration date and a black pen to print in a new one. We need to find a shop with office equipment."
"Swell. So now we're into forgery. Is there no end to your crimes? Drive along, maybe we'll see an office shop of some kind. Or a stationery store. I think it would have what you need, don't you?"
"Possibly. In case I haven't told you, you make a great partner in crime."
"Partner in crime, yes. Partner in bed with you, no. Go back. I saw an office equipment store back there. That building with the green and white striped awning. And rain or no rain, I'm coming in with you. After you do your forgery and we put a dozen or so more fliers out I want you to take me to a mall. I'm freezing. I need to buy some warm clothes."
"Sure, sure, I can take you to a mall. Find one on the map. While we're shopping we can distribute fliers, too. What's the matter?"
"The shop. It's closed. 'Soon to be under new management'. Let's head for the mall. There may be a store there with the stuff you need to commit your crime."
"Good idea. I see a Mac's up ahead. Just for the hell of it I think I'll try putting a flier in there," Trent said.
"I need to use the ladies'. The mall I found is miles away. I better use the Mac's while I'm here."
Trent parked the car across the street from the McDonald's.
"You put the flier and I'll use the ladies'," I said as we made their way around a green Windstar and through a maze of children.
"That couple! With Teddy! There they are! I see them coming out of Mac's..." but before I could finish my sentence a white car brushed against me, knocking me sprawling onto the wet pavement. Uncaring and unaware whether I was injured, I struggled to my feet and yelled at Trent to follow me as I raced across the street into Mac's.
"Teddy! Teddy Cambridge!" I screamed. "It's mother! Teddy, where are you? Answer me!"
But he and the woman were gone. They'd left by another exit.
"Did you see them? Did you see Teddy?" I cried, grabbing Trent's shirt. "Did any of you see them?" I asked the crowd gathered around us.
People shook their heads. No one had seen Teddy or if they had they didn't want to be involved.
"No, I didn't see him," Trent said. "Are you all right? Are you sure you saw Teddy? Maybe you saw a little boy who looks like Teddy. Little blond kids all look alike."
"Are you out of your mind? All little blond kids look alike? That just shows how much you know about kids. Yes, it was Teddy. I know my son when I see him."
"That mother's heart thing again?" Trent said.
"The same one."
"Are you hurt? That car came from nowhere. Another few inches and you might have been killed, Pen. Maybe we should go to a hospital and have you checked over..."
"I'm fine, or at least I think I am. I'm just bruised. And dirty. My clothes are a filthy wet mess," I moaned, using Kleenex to wipe myself off. "Another few seconds and I would have had him. They went out the side door. Do you realize what I'm saying? I saw my son! I saw my son! He isn't dead. Annie was right. She did see him. He's alive. I've never doubted it, not from the moment Annie said she saw him! So near and yet so far. I almost had him! Now we know Teddy is here somewhere. It's just a matter of time before we find him. Let's ask the manager if that woman and Teddy come here often."
But the manager said no, he'd never seen Teddy or the woman before. He said he'd contact Pen and Trent if and when he did see them again. Why didn't they call the police, he asked. Trent just shook his head. We didn't want to tell that story again.
Trent asked him to put some fliers around but he insisted on seeing Trent's permit first.
"Can't place them without seeing your permit. Sorry. Tell you what though, I can put one on my car. That doesn't need a permit. Gimme a couple. One for my car and one for the wife's," he suggested.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Trent asked me as we walked across the street to the car.
"Exactly. I'm thinking exactly what you're thinking. Cars. If it doesn't rain again, the fliers will be fine. And I think we lucked out. Mac's are great places for our fliers. We'll place some more then we'll go to that mall, get me some clothes, and canvas the mall parking lots with our fliers. And eat. I'm hungry. I mean really hungry," I admitted.
Trent climbed in beside her. "Move over," he said.
I started to mouth questions but Trent covered my lips with his, ignoring my struggling. His arms held me, his chest pressed heavily against my breasts. I stopped struggling then brought my body into his, one arm around his neck.
"I could take you right here," he whispered. "Right here in the front seat!"
"And I want you to take me -- to find my son. Get away from me."
"For a few moments you wanted me. The way you kissed me..."
"Was a mistake."
"I don't understand you. To hell with it. How long will it take us to distribute the fliers? And shop?"
"Forget shopping. You take one-half of the mall parking lot and I'll take the other. We'll meet half-way then go back to the Gull for a shower and fresh clothes for me."
"I thought for a moment that's what we were doing, meeting half-way."
"Skip the lecture. What was that all about? I mean what turned you on? You attacked me out of the clear blue."
"I don't know. Unless it was cute face, dirty, but cute. Or that you said you were really hungry. Yeah, I attacked you. You need to be attacked. And you attacked back, or hadn't you noticed?"
Attack. Notice?
The front steps of the Gull were crisscrossed with barricades of ladders.
"What's going on around here? We can't get past to go to our room," Trent said to a painter standing at the top rung of a fifteen-footer.
"Painting. Today's the day for sprucing up the porches and rails. Can't let jobs like this get too far behind. The sea air plays havoc with wood, you know!"
"Yeah, I can see that. So how do we get to our room? Back door?" Trent asked.
"No. The back was painted this morning and it isn't dry yet. Come back later. Come back this afternoon. Late. Like six o'clock. Everything will be good and dry by then. Or maybe seven, yeah, you might want to make it seven just to be on the safe side. I take lunch pretty soon. Go home. My missus always has a big meal for me. Then I take a kip."
I nudged Trent as they walked away. "A kip? Is this the same thing as a nip? If it is, the Gull's in big trouble!"
"I think a 'kip' means a nap. Let's go to a motel."
"Is that the same thing as bed and breakfast without the breakfast? Fine thing when we're locked out of our own room. I need a shower and fresh clothes. Well, at least I can take a shower."
But there were no available motel or hotel rooms.
"Conventions, reunions. Not a room," Trent complained. "I guess we're shot down for now. We'll have to wait. Let's go back to the mall. You said you needed to shop for warmer clothes. Are you still hungry?"
"Past hungry and a mess. We might as well go to the mall. Or maybe a different mall this time. I'll use a Ladies' and clean myself up. We can put some more fliers on cars after we eat and I shop. I found another mall. Here, take a look at it," I said, opening the map and pointing a finger at a marked area. "The Granville Mall. Underground mall. Even if it rains we can shop."
"It's closer than that first one."
"Closer? I can do 'closer'. I can't wait to use a Ladies'. And shop. Maybe I'll find something wonderful, something I can't live without."
"You mean something besides me?" Trent asked, taking my hand in his.
Can't live without.
The entry sign at the Granville Mall said 'if you can't find it at Granville you don't want it or need it!'
"Hurry and find a parking spot, Trent!" I said, popping my seat belt.
"What's your hurry? Can't you wait until I've come to a full stop and parked this buggy? You're not anxious, are you?"
"No, I'm hungry and cold. I guess I got carried away thinking about shopping. We should eat first. What are you hungry for?"
"Besides you? Pasta. With lots of cheese. How about you?"
"I could eat pasta. But not too much cheese. And a salad. And something very chocolate. Should we just wander around until we find a place we like? There's a directory on the wall. Maybe we should look at it."
"Puccini's? That might be good. Want to try it?" Trent asked, checking the list.
"Yes, it sounds very Italian. Maybe with music."
Standing in front of the directory we must have looked like a couple of kids. Trent tried twice to take my hand as we walked towards an elevator leading to a mall entrance. Once at the top we turned right and began looking for Puccini's. We smelled it before we saw it.
"I think this is the place. Does it ever smell delicious. Order for me, will you? I want to use the little girl's room," I said, as a waiter walked us to a table.
Trent ordered, sipped Chianti and nibbled on garlic toasts as he waited for me to join him.
"I don't feel very well, Trent. I suddenly ache all over. Maybe that car brushing into me hurt me more than I realized," I admitted, sitting down.
"Should we leave? I've ordered but that's no problem. If you don't feel well, let's leave."
"But where can we go? We can't get into the Gull until six or seven o'clock. There aren't any hotel or motel rooms, we tried that. No, I'll just tough it out. I'll feel much better after I have something to eat. I'm not very hungry though. I was -- but now I just hurt so badly I've lost my appetite."
"We can always go to a hospital. We should have done that in the first place. Why don't we? Come on, let's go. I'll find a hospital close by," Trent insisted.
"No, I really don't want to go to a hospital. Let me eat something. After I have something to eat I just know I'll start feeling better."
Neither of us ate much of the pasta. Trent polished off his wine, I took several sips of mine.
"Shall we go?" Trent asked, folding his napkin and offering his Visa to their server.
"I'm ready if you are," I said, forcing myself to move.
"Are you still planning to shop?"
"Sure. You bet. Maybe for an hour or so. Then I think I'll be ready for that chocolate something."
"You act as if every bone in your body is broken. You really hurt, don't you?"
"I'll be fine. The first thing I want to buy is a warm jacket. And a sweater. And jeans. I don't think I'll try things on. Too much trouble. If you see a place with chocolate let's sit down and have something sinful."
"What you're saying is you hurt so damn bad you can't try on clothes. And you're ready to sit down again. Okay, okay. Far be it from me to argue with you. Whatever you want, you'll get. Me? I'm just along for the ride. And to pay the bills. Oh, Pen, I didn't mean that. Skip it, will you?"
"Oh my God, Trent! Trent!" I screamed, clutching his arm.
"What? What's the matter? Are you worse? You need to get to a hospital right away."
"No, no, that's not it. Teddy! I just saw Teddy and that woman coming out of Godiva's! Quick, hurry, hurry! They're up ahead of us! Don't let them get away this time!"
Trent took my arm and we began walking.
"I can't. I can't walk that fast, Trent! I hurt all over. Go ahead, find them, stop them! Hurry!"
Trent released my arm and rushed ahead, zigzagging his way through the crowd, looking for a small blond boy. But there was no small blond boy in sight. Finally, he gave up.
"What happened, where is he? Didn't you find him? He was there, I'm sure he was there. I saw him!"
"No, I didn't find him because I didn't see him. Him or any little boy."
"Did you look? Were you looking? How could you miss him? He was there! What's the matter with you? No, I just can't stand it! He's gone again. We had our chance and he's gone again. I can't stand it, I can't stand it," I groaned as I walked onto an escalator. Suddenly I lurched, my body was thrown forward, down, down the escalator's steps onto the bottom of the platform.
"Call 911! Get an ambulance!" Trent screamed, racing to my side. "Pen, Pen, can you hear me?"
A little girl about four tugged at Trent's sleeve. "Here's her purse, mister. Is she dead? My grandmother was dead. I saw her at the funeral home. And she looks like my grandmother. Dead."
"We're going to have to keep you overnight for observation, Mrs. Cambridge. You've had a nasty fall. And that car sideswiping you bruised you terribly. I don't see how you managed to walk. The fall on the escalator finished you off, your injuries I mean. You were lucky you weren't killed. If you need more attention or anything goes wrong, have me paged. Dr. Philip Jurgens.
"She will, Doctor. I'll stay here with her tonight. I'll sleep in a chair. We're from the United States. Staying at the Gull."
"The Gull? Is that still open? I haven't been there in years. Used to drop in for dinner occasionally, best food in Vancouver," the doctor commented.
"Is she going to be all right? I'm worried. Two accidents in one day. And she's under tremendous stress," Trent said to Jurgens, ignoring the fact that I was only inches away from both of them.
"What kind of stress?" Jurgens asked, taking a pencil from his pocket and reaching for Pen's chart.
Trent related the story of the explosion, the deaths, what Annie had said, that Teddy had been kidnapped, brought to Vancouver and finally that he and the kidnappers had been seen twice, twice today.
"Have you alerted the police?" Jurgens asked, making notes.
Trent shook his head.
"It's certainly no wonder that your wife is under severe stress. Collapse is more like it. I suggest you go back to the police. Once they hear your story they'll help you. And I think she will begin to feel better if the police are involved. You surely can't do this alone, the two of you. I mean, you can't find your son by yourself."
"We haven't so far. We really thought we could. The police? I doubt they'll help us from what we were told. But I could hire a private investigator. I'll do that right away," Trent said.
"Yes, that would help. But I still think you should try the police again. Well, if she needs me call me," he reminded. "I've ordered something for pain and something for sleep. Now, little lady, your husband and I will leave you alone for awhile. Let you relax. I'll send the nurse in with your medication. Come along with me, won't you, and let this little girl of yours get some rest."
Trent turned towards the door then retraced his steps and stood by my bed.
"Have the nurse call me if you need me. You get some rest. You'll feel better tomorrow morning," the doctor assured me.
"See you later. I'll sleep here tonight, in the chair," Trent offered.
"I can't say much for your Vancouver accommodations. Here or at the Gull. I'll be just fine. Give me a good night's sleep and I'll be rarin' to go again. We have to find Teddy. I can't believe he's so close, that I lost him again."
"I'm going to get us a private investigator. Obviously, we can't do this ourselves. While you're resting I'll phone my buddy in Scottsdale and have him give me some names of PI's here."
"Out, out, out! I'm giving your wife her medication. It's for pain and for sleep. Did you hear the word 'sleep'? So out of here. She can't rest with you in the room," a bossy nurse ordered, fanning her hands at Trent.
"Yeah, well, take good care of her. See you later, Sleeping Beauty. By the time you wake up I'll have a PI working on the case. We'll have Teddy back in no time."
"How long have been in Vancouver? The reason I ask is a private investigator can't work for you unless you've been here six months," Sully Corbel explained, holding out her hands to examine her nails. "Nails. I spend a fortune on manicures and just look. Polish chipping off. Doesn't last even a week. You guys are lucky you don't have to go through all the things we women do."
"Six months? That can't be true. And if it is, it's a stupid rule. What are people supposed to do when they need an investigator?" Trent complained, standing in the office of Alley and Brown Investigators.
"This is the way it is. Only way around it is to be the Chief Inspector and I doubt that's going to happen any time soon. Look, take my advice and get the police on this. Save yourself the cost of a Vancouver Private Eye. Most of them drink too much anyway to do you much good. Who are you looking for or is it any of my business? They call me Sully. I won't tell you my real first name," she laughed.
"A little boy. About five years old. My friend's son. It's a long story. She and I have been trying to find him ourselves. We've seen him twice. In one day. But somehow he got away from us. My friend is about out of her mind."
"Where are you from?"
"Arizona. Scottsdale."
"Never been there and hope I never have to go. I hear it's hotter than holy hell in the summer. Give me this Vancouver weather any day. How'd you locate us? Oh, never mind. Why am I even asking? After all, we're in the yellow pages. And we advertise. Why don't you hire someone from Arizona, from Scottsdale. He -- or she -- can work here anytime. Some kind of legal exchange, don't ask me what, I don't understand politics."
"I called a buddy of mine. Great guy, terrific investigator. But all I got was his answering service. He's out on a job someplace," Trent explained.
"You know, you're not a half-bad guy. Tell you what, I'll go to work for you. I don't have a PI license so that won't be a problem with the authorities. I know the ropes, heaven knows I've been hanging around PI's long enough. And I know Vancouver. I wasn't born here. But I know Vancouver. Born in Illinois. Danville, Illinois. Even heard of it? Yeah, I can help you out," Sully said, polishing her nails a bright red.
"I don't know. It might work out. I guess we could try it. What do you charge?"
"What you really mean is that I'm better than nothing. I charge a hundred a day and expenses. How does that sound?"
"Sounds okay. When can you start?" Trent asked.
"Five minutes ago. I started five minutes ago. Gimme a picture of your little boy. I'll need it."
"Pen has all the pictures. We had fliers made about Teddy. We put them on cars, mostly in mall parking lots. We ordered a thousand. I have them in the car. Teddy's picture is on the flier. In fact, two pictures. I'll go down and get...how many fliers would you like?" Trent asked.
"What do you think of this polish? Is it too red? Maybe I should change it? I have another red, it has more blue in it. How many fliers? I don't usually pass out fliers but in your case I'll make an exception. Bring me twenty-five. And it won't cost you extra."
When Trent returned with the fliers, Sully waved for him to put them down on a table. "I'm using the blue-red. Like it better? I sure do. Say, where's Pen and what's your name again? You told me, I think you told me, when you came in but I didn't listen. I'm not too good on names anyway."
"Summit. Trent Summit. Pen is in the hospital. All this is too much for her. Well, actually she was hit by a car yesterday. Brushed by a car. Then she fell down an escalator. I'm going to St. Paul's after I leave here and pick her up."
"Poor woman. Did you get the guy who hit her, I hope?"
"No. Hit and run."
"So where are you staying? Which motel?"
"No motel. The Gull Inn."
"Is that still in business? That place has been there for years! I heard it still has good food. Is that true?" Sully wanted to know.
"Yes, it's good. Now you have twenty-five of the fliers. What will you do next? I mean, what's your procedure? In the United States..."
"You're not in the United States. I do things my own way. Maybe we have a file for this little kid, your little kid."
"Why? Who would be interested in Teddy? Besides us."
"Look, are you trying to tell me my business? Because if you are, the deal's off! One PI on this case is enough as far as I'm concerned."
"No, I'm not trying to tell you a thing. You do your job whatever way you like. I don't give a damn how you do it, just do it, and find Teddy Cambridge!"
"Cambridge? I thought the name was Summit? A few minutes ago you said the name was Summit. What's going on here? Is this a divorce case? Because if it, I'm want out before I get in. Divorce cases are messy and I'll tell you what else. Dangerous. Divorce cases are dangerous. Forget it, buddy. I'm not getting involved."
"It isn't a divorce case. Far from it. It's a kidnapping. Teddy Cambridge is my friend's little boy. He was kidnapped in Arizona. I told you when I first came in that we've seen him twice, right here in Vancouver. We can't seem to get to him. That's why we need a PI. Are you sure there's a six-month waiting period before I can hire your boss?"
"Would I lie to you? I thought that woman was your wife? It doesn't matter. Not to me. I don't care as long as this isn't a divorce case. Me? See I've been through the divorce mill. So I know what I'm talking about and how lousy it is. If you're not snowing me about it being divorce I'll help you. Well?"
"It's not about divorce. It's about finding a five-year-old kid, a kidnapped kid. Snatched from Scottsdale about seven months ago. So where are you going to begin?"
"Look, Summit or Cambridge or whatever your name is, I'll tell you the details some other time. I don't divulge that kind of thing now. When I have something to report I'll call you at the Gull. Until then scram and let me get started. Oh, and don't call me, I'll call you!"
A group of candy stripers eyed Trent as he walked the corridor. "He's cute," one giggled.
"Trent, where on earth have you been? I've been dismissed. An hour ago. I phoned the Gull but our landlady wouldn't tell me a thing except to be careful of the ladder, whatever that means."
Trent plopped down in a leather chair and stretched his legs over the side. "I've been trying to hire a PI. Vancouver has another six-month rule. I have to be a resident for six months in order to hire a PI here. So I hired a woman who isn't a PI but claims she knows the business. I don't think she's really suited for the job...but she's the best I could do for now. How are you feeling? You look a lot better. Did you get any sleep?"
I swung both legs out of the bed. I was fully dressed. "Yes, I did get some sleep. Whatever they gave me knocked me for a loop. Took a long, hot shower. I still ache. These bruises are going to take awhile to heal. I'm ready to leave. Have my dismissal papers right here in my hot little hand. I'm glad you hired a PI. Anyone. You say it's a woman? Might be the best idea. A woman knows kids. Where do we go from here?"
"The Gull. I figured you'll want to shower, well, another shower, change clothes, do the make-up thing. Then we can start off again to distribute the fliers. I think I better call Wilson and order another thousand. He can hold them for us until we actually need them but at least we'll have a ready supply. What's the matter? Why the face?"
"The police. The parking ticket you got. It said you had to pay it within twenty- four hours! I just remembered it."
"That's the least of our worries. With so much going on how could I be concerned about a parking ticket? If worse comes to worst, we'll show them your hospital papers. Proof we had other things to do. Now take it slow, walk slowly. I can tell you hurt all over, poor girl."
"To hear you call me 'girl' is almost, note I said almost, worth the bruises!"
"Give me your arm. And slow down, don't walk so fast. We're not going to a fire, we're just going to the car."
Placed on the windshield was a red notice. 'Second violation. Report to any police station within twelve hours.'
"I can't believe this. A kidnapper is running all over Vancouver with my son and all the police worry about is parking. What's the sign say about parking here?"
"I don't see any sign. Oh. Yes. I do see one now. No Parking. Yeah, you're right. They worry more about parking and issuing tickets than they do stolen kids. Twelve hours. What time does the ticket say it was issued?" Trent asked helping me into the front seat.
I took the ticket from him and turned it over several times. "It doesn't say. So I guess we better go pay it right away."
"First let's swing by the Gull. You do your thing and I'll call Wilson and order more fliers. And maybe we'll be in time to eat. As I remember it, when Ashley and I were here, apple pie was on the menu. I could sure use a piece of apple pie. And another piece I can think of. A cute blond, battered and bruised."
"You are very vulgar. With a sweet tooth."
"Can you think of anything better?"
"A car with a cellular phone."
"What's that got to do with sex and sweets?"
"Nothing. I'm trying to change the subject, to get your mind off of things you can't have."
"Can't or shouldn't?"
"It's your mind, you figure it out."
"I'm staying clear of this, you're trying to entrap me."
"You wish. Now what about buying a car and having a phone installed?"
"Sure, fine, when we have time. So far we haven't had much free time. I'll put it on hold for now."
Gladys Gooch was waiting for us as we ducked under a ladder to enter the Gull.
"Don't you dare bring your wife in here! I don't allow drunks. Pack up your things and get out. Mrs. Summit, you are disgusting. There's nothing worse than a woman drunk," she spat.
Trent continued to help me inside the Gull and to our room.
"Didn't you hear me? I said for you to get out. Listen, I'll call the police if you don't leave. I mean it!" Gladys raged.
"Stand in line. You'll have to stand in line. The police all ready want us for two parking violations. But when you really need them, where in the hell are they?" Trent asked.
"And swearing. Not only bringing your drunken wife into my Gull, to make matters worse, you're swearing at me. Well, I won't allow it. I'm calling the police. So be prepared!"
"Fine. When they show up maybe I can pay my parking tickets in person, save me a trip to the police station. I'm wanted. You're in the company of a very dangerous parking violator. Oh, come off it, can't you see my wife has been injured? I just got her out of St. Paul's," Trent said in a hateful tone.
"Do you expect me to believe you? I didn't hear anything about it on the telly. I can tell a drunk when I see one," she assured him.
"Would you two quit? I hurt all over. Here, take a look at some of my bruises, Mrs. Gooch. And if you'll listen I'll tell you what happened to me." I pulled up my shirt and exposed my bruises.
"Well, all right. I'll listen. But be brief. Don't go into a long story. I'm not up to listening to it. Did you see the ladder outside? The painter hasn't come back to finish his work. He's on one of his drinking sprees. So now how am I going to get that job finished? And the ladder removed? It's the painter's ladder. Where am I supposed to put it? The Gull looks tacky. Simply tacky!"
"It doesn't look too bad. My story? Short but not sweet. First a car sideswiped me. Then I fell down an escalator. Both accidents were enough to bruise me and Trent took me to the hospital. Right now I'd love to soak in the tub," I pleaded.
"Well, you look and act drunk. But I suppose I'll have to take your word for it. I hope there's enough hot water for you to soak. I did a big laundry earlier this morning and used quite a bit of hot water. I don't know what I'm going to do with that ladder," she cried, rushing outside.
Trent walked me into our room and sat me down on the side of the bed. "Trent, slip off my shoes."
"And anything else I want to?"
"My shoes. I think I can manage the rest. Can you get my robe for me? It's on that hook in the closet."
"You bet. I'll go to the bathroom and run your hot water. Then I'll help you walk back down there."
By the time Trent had returned I'd undressed and had slipped into my robe. "The water. How is it? Hot?"
"For once you live right. Yes, it's hot. Walk slowly. I think after you've had a long soak you'll start feeling better. I'll come back and get you in about twenty minutes," Trent promised.
I was pruned wrinkled, the hot water icy...Trent didn't keep his promise. Finally, uttering groans, I lifted myself out of the tub. Slipping on my robe was a major operation. By walking slowly and occasionally grabbing the wall for support, I worked my way to our room.
Outside our window perched Trent on the highest rung of the ladder, a paintbrush in one hand and a bucket in the other.
I yelled out the open window, "What are you doing? Why didn't you come and help me out of the tub? I look like I need ironing."
"I'm finishing this paint job. It's the only way Mrs. Gooch would let us stay. She still thinks you're drunk. Not only drunk but a drunk."
"Tell her she's right. I am drunk. I've had one too many bruises and one too many close encounters like seeing my son and not being able to get to him in time. Speaking of time, you may be doing some. A Vancouver police car just stopped in front of the Gull. Two uniforms cops have climbed out and are walking your way. Weren't you supposed to appear at a police station within twelve hours? I think your hours are up."
Don't say I didn't warn you."
Your hours are up...
Gladys Gooch had prayed it wouldn't rain on the Gull's paint job. She had also prayed the bank would ignore the fact she hadn't paid her mortgage payment for four months. Now it had rained and who knows what would happen to the paint Trent Summit had slapped on? And she'd received a white slip from the bank...white in many cases indicates purity. In the bank's case white meant sudden death. To make matters worse, the Gull's front porch was filled with Vancouver police. What would the neighbors think?
"I'm real sorry, Mrs. Gooch. One of your tenants, a Trent Summit, has had two parking violations and hasn't made any attempt to pay them. You know Vancouver. We don't stand still for unpaid parking violations. We have to take him in. That's the rule," a tall, skinny, redheaded kid said.
"Homer Warnstaff. You know I don't have 'tenants'. Guests. The Gull only has 'guests'. Now what's this all about? One of my guests has a few parking violations? I've had a few myself. In fact, I bet your mother has had a few. So what are you and your boys doing scuffing up my front porch?" Gladys raged.
"It can't be helped. I'm sorry, but it can't be helped. This Trent Summit, your guest, has two parking violations. He's never made any attempt to pay either one. Look, Mrs. Gooch, you're a Vancouver resident. So if you have a coupla violations we all know you must have had a very good reason. But an outsider? An out-of-towner?
"We can't have this at all. I mean, what would the rest of the world think if we let every outsider just park any old place without permission? No, we can't allow it. The Captain sent me here to pick Summit up, bring him in," Homer said.
"I had you in my Sunday school class, Homer. I had your Captain, too. I must not have taught you boys very well. Don't you remember the Golden Rule? And 'turning the other cheek'? You run along now and tell the Captain I said to stop by sometime for pie. I think his favorite is lemon meringue. Well, isn't that a coincidence? I have a fresh lemon meringue pie just waiting for someone to enjoy a slice. Before you leave you boys step into my kitchen. And coffee. You know my coffee is the best in Vancouver. Pecan. I brewed pecan a few minutes before you arrived. Wipe your feet! No pie or coffee unless you wipe your feet!"
"Just a small slice, Mrs. Gooch. Laura has me on a diet again. Today I'm only supposed to eat fruits," Homer said, wiping his feet and motioning to the others to do the same.
"So tell me when lemon is not a fruit, Homer? Laura should let up on you. You're already thin as a rail. I'm going to slice you a extra large piece. What Laura doesn't know won't hurt you. Come in, boys, come in. That's right, wipe your feet. Mr. Summit, you better go upstairs and tend to your wife," Gladys ordered.
"Mrs. Gooch is one slick lady, isn't she? She sure knows how to handle cops. 'Turn the other cheek'. The Golden Rule. It was her lemon meringue pie and pecan coffee that really got us out of there. Where to? Shall we try the mall again? Or are you up to it?" Trent said as we drove away from the Gull.
"Not really. But I really do need some warm clothes. Jeans, shirts and a jacket. Especially a jacket," I said.
"I'll come in the dressing room and help you try things on," Trent offered.
"Men are not allowed in women's dressing rooms. I ache all over. Too much so to try on clothes. If they don't fit we can return them. Maybe we should put some more fliers on cars."
"Could. We could put some fliers near playgrounds, too. Think of some places for us to place the fliers. You're the mother, you should know a lot of places."
"Yes, playgrounds. Nursery schools. More malls. Parks. Where's the map?"
"In the glove compartment."
"I'm looking at the index. Points of Interest. Trent, there's a long, long list of parks. It will take us forever to canvas all of them. And there's a zoo. An aquarium."
"What else do we have to do? And don't forget the phone book. We've just gotten our feet wet, Pen. It's worse than a needle in a haystack. But you've seen Teddy twice. This woman, the one who kidnapped her, must know little boys pretty well. She takes them places little boys like to go. And she's nice. Or at least she seems to be nice. You know what I mean."
"I know what you mean. She's a kidnapper but a nice one. At least she isn't mistreating Teddy. Or is she? We haven't any idea how she treats him behind closed doors, in the privacy of her home. Child abusers often seem loving, kind, well, normal, on the outside. But in their own homes, alone, they do hideous things. This woman could be cruel, evil. Even torture Teddy. Forget the shopping. Drive faster, Trent. We have a lot of fliers to pass around."
Trent drove us through one park after another, placing fliers on windshields. I ached too badly to be much help.
"I have to take a break. Coffee. Or am I allowed?" Trent asked about eleven- thirty.
"You are. I'm sorry I'm not much help passing the fliers out. Look, there's a ferry boat out there."
"That's on Vancouver Island. Do you want to drive over there? We could take a ferry someplace." Trent suggested. "What we could do is incorporate the ferry into our plan. Eventually I figured we'd do the Island with our fliers. We can start now. Put some on the ferry. In the johns, in the eating areas."
"Is this allowed? Can we put fliers on a ferry? The police would just love it if you tripped up again."
"Oh sure. We can put fliers on a ferry. I can't see why not. Direct me to the landing, will you? Or I can stop and check the map. Don't get me lost," he growled as he threw me a dark look. "I remember the time we were in San Diego and you messed me up. Got me lost on the way to the airport."
"Lost? Me, get you lost? That was your own fault. You took a wrong turn. Not the turn I told you to take. You weren't listening to my directions. Talk about getting lost. You've been lost since we arrived. You and your dumb parking. You almost got put in jail. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Gooch you'd be in the slammer right now. Why don't I drive and you read the map?"
"What happened to you? Who turned you on? All I said was 'don't get me lost'! Can't you take a joke?"
"A joke, yes. But you weren't joking. So stop the car and let me drive. You read the map. If I get lost it will be your fault."
"I think you're beginning to feel better. You're back to your grouchy self. I'm doing the driving. And I will also do the navigating. All you need to do is sit back and count your blessings."
"My blessings? What do my blessings have to do with anything? What blessings are you talking about?"
"The first blessing is I just saw a sign indicating which way to the ferry. The second blessing is that you have me here taking care of you."
"So what are my other blessings? Since you know so much, tell me what are my other blessings?"
"That's the trouble with you. You're never satisfied. Figure them out. After all, they're your blessings aren't they?"
Once aboard the ferry the wind painted color into my cheeks. My aches seemed to subside. It had been a long time since I'd been on a boat. Cambridge Fireworks was miles and miles from water. I'd taken Teddy to Saguaro Lake for breakfast and a sightseeing boat trip several times. He'd loved it. But Steve said it wasn't a good idea, anything could happen, the boat could capsize.
"What's capsize mean, Mommy?" Teddy had asked.
"Turn over. But it won't. Don't worry, it won't."
Steve was adamant. No boat rides.
"What about swimming lessons? The 'Y' has a class for boys Teddy's age. It'll be good for him. Besides swimming he'll meet kids. He's lonely out here with no one to play with."
"You have enough to do without hauling him into Scottsdale, Pen. He's fine. He doesn't need to meet any kids," Steve had insisted.
I thought of this as I watched the waves splash against the ferry. Teddy would love this. When I get him back, when they were together again, things would be different. I'll take him to the 'Y' to learn to swim.
"A penny for your thoughts, no pun intended," Trent said, digging into his pocket and handing me a penny.
"I was thinking of Teddy and how much he'd enjoy all this. I took him to Saguaro Lake a few times. We had breakfast and then took a sightseeing boat around the lake."
"Was he a good swimmer?"
"He can't swim at all. He's only a little kid, he isn't even six yet, Trent."
"Even so, he should know how to swim. Never too young to learn. When we get him back, I'll teach him."
"I'd forgotten. You were on the school swim team, weren't you? As I remember it, you won the fifty in butterfly for us. We won State because of you."
"Long, long time ago. Anyway, I'll teach Teddy how to swim. If I'd had any children that would be one of the first things I'd do."
"Do you regret not having any? You said Ashley didn't want any. Did you ever? Want any?" Did you ever want our son?
"Me? No. I'd make a lousy father. What do I know about kids?"
"You know enough to want to teach Teddy to swim. That's something. Being a parent doesn't automatically come with directions, you know, Trent. Parents aren't given a how-to book."
"Skip the pep talk. I think the galley is open. Let's go get something to eat. How are you feeling, are you hungry? This fresh air will do you good."
"Better. I'm feeling better. And I'm hungry. I think I'll have a cheeseburger. With everything except onions!"
"Is that cheeseburger in memory of or in reference to Annie's Forever?"
"Actually it might be. After we get Teddy back why don't we take him to see Annie? Annie is responsible for this. None of this would be happening if it weren't for her. She's really our hero, isn't she?"
"I have to admit she is. There was a time when I didn't, couldn't have, believed any of this. We have to add your confidence in her. If you hadn't been so positive she was telling the truth we wouldn't be here on this ferry. Wouldn't be passing out fliers. Wouldn't have seen Teddy. I've never met him but I feel as if I'd known him all my life. Why don't you sit still and I'll go wait in line at the food counter. What else do you want besides a super deluxe cheeseburger? Fries? And what do you want to drink?"
"Surprise me."
"Close your eyes and open your hands. It's surprise, surprise," Trent said, returning with several bags.
"Onions? I suppose you got me a cheeseburger with raw onions -- which you know I hate. I may just eat them and punish you all afternoon by breathing on you, Trent Summit!"
"Open your eyes and open this bag before you accuse me of something I didn't do. Sometimes I think you sit around and dream up things I might do to annoy you. Dream on, open that bag."
"A jacket! It's wonderful!" I exclaimed, wiggling into it. White, with marine blue trim and the logo BC Ferries, the jacket fit me twice.
"I tried to get you a small but all the guy had left was a medium. You could be a fish. You swim in the darn thing. Should I take it back? I can. The guy said I could return it if you didn't like it."
"I don't care if it's a little large on me. Maybe I'll grow into it. Anyway it will cover me, that's for sure."
Trent handed me another bag.
"I smell onions. Just for that I will eat them. And stink. I may breathe on you."
"Best offer I've had in days. Are you sure your bruises aren't better? Maybe you should let me caress you all over. I've heard caresses are very soothing to bruises. Raw onions? We'll both stink. Don't get mustard on your jacket. Mustard won't come out."
"Know-it-all. I know how to get mustard out. Someday when I know you better I'll let you in on the big secret. My bruises are still painful. I haven't heard caresses are soothing to bruises. I think you made that up. Oh, is this burger ever good! What did you bring me to drink?"
"A chocolate malt. The reason your burger is good is because of the raw onions. Nothing like them. A burger just isn't a burger without raw onions. Now what's the matter? Why the face? Are the onions that bad? Well, say something, don't sit there staring ahead. Say, are you okay? Are you choking?"
"Don't turn around," I whispered, "ahead of me in a booth, is Teddy, a man and a woman. Teddy and the woman have their back to us. The man is facing us. Trent, did you see any policemen aboard? I know the police said they weren't interested but when they actually see Teddy they'll change their minds."
"I don't think I saw any police. I wasn't paying any attention. We'll have to handle this ourselves. The woman may recognize us. I dunno. But the man won't. Is he facing you? I wish I could turn around. Tell you what, I won't turn around. I'll get up slowly. As if I'm going to the food counter for something. Hand me your malt container. I'll act as if I'm taking it back," Trent said, rising slowly.
"Be careful. The woman may remember you," I warned, handing Trent the container.
Carrying the container Trent walked towards the food counter, past the booth where Teddy and his kidnappers were sitting. They were engaged in conversation and paid no attention to Trent. Trying not to attract attention, Trent looked them over. Teddy had obviously been crying. Trent heard the man mutter something like 'shut up, stop that bawling!' Trent continued walking to the food counter, waited a few minutes, then returned to where I was seating.
"Teddy's been crying. Damn that man. I hate the way he talks to Teddy. He told him to shut up, stop bawling. What kind of talk is that? I'm going to knock the holy hell out of that guy when I get the chance. I tried to hear what all they were saying but I couldn't. We have to make our move, Pen, as quickly as possible. The ferry is pulling into port in a few minutes. Once we dock, people will merge together to disembark and we could lose Teddy in the crowd. I'll get up to go to the exit. As I walk past them you walk behind me. Zip your jacket. My body will hide you from their seeing you. I'll meet you at the exit. You stand on one side and I'll man the other. I'll grab Teddy as they pass by and run down the gangplank with him. I, we, Teddy and I will meet you, let's see, we'll meet you at the souvenir stand on the dock. Teddy will be scared to death. I can't help it. He'll be fine once he sees you."
Trent rose from the table, motioning for me to get up and walk behind him. Cautiously, we made their way past the booth and towards the exit. People were beginning to crowd together, pushing and shoving to get off first. We each took a place by the open gangway. As the ferry was positioned close to the dock I felt a thrust, a shove into inky, cold Victoria Harbor. I could see a figure following me in the water. Suddenly, my oversized white jacket floated me to the surface, billowing out much like an inflated life preserver.
Trent grabbed a handful of fabric, tugging, jerking at it until he had me in his arms. Wedged only a foot from the pier, Trent brought my body into his, swimming furiously towards the pier to out-swim the docking of the boat.
"I thought the two of you were goners. Mister, you're one helluva swimmer! Anyone else would have headed away for the pier not towards the pier. You saved that lady's life!" someone said.
A crowd had gathered, members of the crew milled around. The Captain of the ferry appeared.
"Is she hurt? Come into the ship's office. You can fill out papers and a claim there," he offered.
Trent wrapped his arms around me. "Let's forget it. I want to get her home, someplace where she can change into dry clothing. We're staying at the Gull."
"Is the Gull still going strong? Great food. Come into the office. I can furnish you both with clothing, jeans, shirts. Too big for the lady. But at least they're dry. Are you sure you don't want to file a claim? What happened?" the Captain asked, worried about the company's insurance and reputation. He'd seen situations before where the people involved insisted they didn't want to file a claim, then later had changed their minds saying no one in the company offered them any help, let alone the opportunity to fill out forms.
"The dry clothes will be great. Give me the forms you mentioned. I'll look them over later. I'm an attorney. From the United States. Arizona," Trent told him.
An attorney! And from the United States. Hell to pay. "Certainly. Let's go into the office. Would either of you care for a mug of soup? I have some right here," the Captain offered. Soup was soothing. And 'soup' would look good in his report.
"Fine. I'm freezing and I'm she is too. Let's get her into those dry clothes," Trent said.
The soup and clothes helped. But neither helped untangle the reason why I went head-first into the harbor.
"What happened to Teddy? Did you see where he went? We've lost him again. I think I will just die, Trent. Or go crazy. Those people sound mean. Mean to Teddy. Especially the man. Now we may never have another chance to find him. Call that woman you hired. The one who isn't a PI but thinks like one. Trent, I didn't fall. I was pushed. I could feel someone pushing me," I said, as we drove back to the Gull.
"I'll call that PI dame as soon as we get to the Gull. Don't give up on our finding Teddy. Obviously, the kidnappers don't know we're looking for them. They take Teddy a lot of places. We'll keep looking. We'll have another shot at getting him back. I dunno if someone really meant to push you. People were shoving. How do you feel? Besides cold and wet? Your hair is matted like seaweed! You can use mine. If I were you, I wouldn't consider that hairstyle."
Trent eyed a 'thirty mile' zone and slowed down from doing fifty.
"You don't look so hot yourself. Other than still being cold and other than still being scared out of my wits, I'm fine. I don't feel any worse than I did. I've been cold since I got here. That was quite a life-saving job you did on me back there. How'd you ever figure out what to do? Most people would have pulled me away from the pier instead of into it."
"If I'd pulled you away from the pier or tried to...well, the boat would have run over both of us. By pulling you into the pier the rocking of the waves sloshed us into an open space. The boat couldn't wedge into that area, couldn't come any closer to the pier."
"How'd you know that? Were you ever a sailor?"
"Not me. How'd I know? It just figures. If I'd pulled you away from the pier, the dock, we'd both been sucked under, run over. Are you getting any warmer? I can turn on the heater if you like," he offered, taking my hand.
"Okay, turn on the heater. If we were Chinese you'd be responsible for me forever."
"Yeah, I've heard about that Chinese custom. That if you save someone's life you're responsible for that person forever. Since when do I have to be Chinese? I'll tell you, we have to go shopping. Your wardrobe is really terrible!"
"Where's my new jacket? The one you bought me on the ferry? It helped save me. It acted like a life preserver, it floated me to the top. Where is it?"
Trent motioned to the back seat. "I put our wet stuff in the back. Back? I wonder what Mrs. Gooch is going to say when she sees us in these get-ups? In a way, I hate to go to the Gull. No doubt she'll have something to say about our clothes. But she may also have some job she needs done. If I don't help her she'll throw us out. Look, she won't ask you to do a thing. Why don't you go in the front door and I'll sneak in the back door. If she asks where I am, make up some story. We can each get a shower, clean up, change our clothes. Sneak out the same way."
"Good plan. All we need now is lots of good luck. We're about due."
Mrs. Gooch was waiting for me when I walked up the front steps. Hands on her hips, she said, "I just knew it. I knew something was wrong with you. From the moment I set eyes on you."
"What on earth are you talking about?".
"He drowned, didn't he? Your husband. I saw it all on the telly. The announcer said you were both saved but your husband was really drowned, wasn't he? You're to blame.
"You dragged the poor soul down until you drowned him. Murder, that's what it was. You've murdered him. Now I'll never get my painting done. Did you see the ladder still standing against the porch? I really should call the police. And make you leave. I can rent your room, you know. Rooms are at a premium around here. Why did you do it? Money? Did you murder him for money? Or sex? Are you having an affair? You don't look like the type to have an affair. You're not attractive enough. Just look at you.
"Your hair is a tangled mess. And those clothes. No style whatsoever. Whoever the man is, the one you're fooling around with, well, he has no taste in women."
I figured by now Trent must be in our room.
"I don't feel like talking, Mrs. Gooch. If you don't mind, I'd like to go up to my room and freshen up."
"Evidence. You're talking like a murderer. 'I'd like to go up to my room'. I caught the word my. How long have you been planning to murder Trent Summit?"
Since my son was killed.
"It's over, Trent. Over. Now we'll never get Teddy back. It's on the TV. The story about my falling in and your saving me. Mrs. Gooch just cornered me. She thinks you're dead. That I murdered you. The man and woman who have Teddy will see the TV. And that PI person, that Sully, you've never heard a word from her. What is she doing? We'll never see Teddy again."
"Hold on. I gave our names as Summit. They'd know you as Cambridge," Trent said.
"But Teddy. He'd recognize me."
"Not necessarily. You looked like a drowned rat. Your hair was matted all over your face. And your clothes? That jacket billowing around you? Your own mother wouldn't have known you! Let's get showered, changed. Go to a bar. Watch ourselves on TV. We may get lucky. Maybe we won't even recognize one another. Our luck is changing."
"What do you mean? Why is our luck changing?"
"Mrs. Gooch thinks I'm dead. Do you realize what this means? How lucky can we get? As long as I can sneak in and out we're home free."
"Maybe. Maybe not. She was talking about throwing me out."
"No way. After you're changed go down and con her into thinking how great it is to have you here. You're a celebrity. Tell her she could make a fortune writing a book. Or going on talk shows. Remember what Annie said?"
"I can see why you're a successful lawyer. You have a very dishonest mind."
"Whatever it takes, whatever it takes. Now go do something with yourself."
"Watch it. Remember Mrs. Gooch thinks you're dead. That I murdered you. A 'drowned rat' am I? Call me a 'drowned rat'! There's murder in those words!"
"Name your poison. Do you want to go to another mall or would you rather go to some small stores? I can take you any place you want. Just as long as you get some new clothes," Trent said as we drove up Granville. "And sometime today I want to check in with the O'Hara brothers and with Chan -- Wong."
"I hope everything's going well with the O'Hara's. Leaving them in charge of Cambridge was a big step. Chan? I'm anxious to learn what he's found out about Gordie. Let's go to a mall. Small stores don't always have much to offer in petite sizes. There'll be more for me to choose from at a mall and besides, we can put some fliers on cars."
"You have the mind of a fox."
"I think you outfoxed yourself this time when you decided to play dead. Mrs. Gooch won't be expecting to feed you anymore."
"I didn't even think of this. You could give me half of yours. Sneak it up. Half won't fill me up but it's better than nothing."
"I think I'm starting to feel better. My bruises are sorry sights to look at and hurt like the devil but I am feeling better. I'm kind of excited, too. I know we're going to get Teddy back. I feel it in my sore bones. It isn't a matter of if -- it's a matter of when. I feel guilty about shopping. I shouldn't be shopping when my son has been kidnapped. I shouldn't be enjoying anything. But I admit I'm looking forward to getting some new clothes. How much can I spend and how long do I have to pay you back?"
"There's no limit to how much and the repayment plan is forever, never. I don't want it back. Tell you what, I'll take it out in trade. When your bruises heal."
"That's the kind of charge account most girls would love. What about interest? Or do you mean 'interested'? I am not. Interested."
"You may change your mind someday. That is if you still have a mind. Where do you want to park?" Trent asked, swinging into a mall parking lot.
"Change my mind? I saw a sign that said underground parking. Want to try it?"
"Which way do I go?"
"Turn left here, then a right. You should see a down ramp."
"I see it. Great. Check us out. Where are we? I don't want to hunt all over hell and back searching for the car when we finish your shopping."
"Lemon. Two. We're on Lemon Two. Remember that."
"How could I forget? You tried to force me into drinking lemonade when I wanted iced tea and it takes two to tango. Lemon Two."
"You're not going to force me into an argument so don't even try. Nothing will stop me from shopping this time. I'm going to shop 'til I drop and you run out of money."
Petite Preferred clerk Mary Agnes grinned like a kid. This was going to be a good day. It would make up for the two days she was off with the flu. The blue flu, the lie flu. Two whole days with Martin. This job be damned. But she needed the money. This customer was easy, she liked everything.
"Your total comes to four-hundred-seventy-eight and eleven cents, is this cash or charge?"
"Four-hundred-seventy-eight and eleven cents? Visa," I said, handing her Trent's card.
"Oh. This Visa is in the name of Trent Summit. Are you Trent?"
"No. He's here in the mall someplace. Downstairs."
"You can't charge on his card without him. He has to sign, I have to have his signature. I'll hold your purchases while you go get him. You can take the elevator. It's right next door to us. Quicker for you than the escalator."
"And a lot safer, too. I'm not too comfortable with escalators these days. Okay, I'll get him. We'll be right back. Hold onto to my things, will you? I don't want to have to try them on again."
"I can hold them for a half-hour. Store policy. But you'll be back by then," Mary Agnes said. "The elevator is out our front door then to the left. You can't miss it."
But I did miss it. When the door slid open I started to step into it the elevator but my foot felt nothing but open space. As I withdrew my foot I teetered, coming dangerously close to falling down the open elevator shaft. Grasping the edges of the door I righted myself, pushed my body backwards. Struggling to maintain my balance I threw my shoulder into a wall.
A small crowd had gathered. I heard someone say, 'that was as close a call as you'll ever want to come, lady!' 'There wasn't any elevator floor! Just open space!' And 'count me out. I'm taking the stairs!'
"What's going on?" Trent asked, as he walked towards me.
"That lady just about got killed. She was going to walk into the elevator. But there wasn't any floor," a young woman told him. "The floor was gone! I mean gone."
"Are you alright?" Trent asked, putting his arms around me.
"It wasn't an accident. I know it wasn't. Trent, someone is trying to kill me!"
The mall maintenance engineer discovered all the interior elevator buttons were jammed with chewing gum. When I had pushed the down button the gum had stretched, allowing a level selection but no actual floor. Whoever had placed the gum knew exactly what he was doing.
"The guy who put the gum there knew what and how. Maybe some demolition expert? You hear about these crazies a lot anymore. But I sure didn't expect one of our mall elevators would be rigged like it was. I've called the police. Their sending their special squad," the mall manager said. "I'll get someone here right away to rope off this area. We don't want anyone else hurt. Come down to my office. You'll have to file a report."
"You stepped into open space, Pen. Open space," Trent exclaimed.
"Yes, open space and certain death. Someone is trying to kill me. It may sound preposterous, Trent, but I'm convinced of it," I whispered.
"No, it isn't preposterous. I agree. There have been too many incidents, too many accidents. Someone is trying to kill you. The kidnappers! Of course, they've known all along we're here. We've been watching them and they've been watching us. And all this time we thought we hadn't been detected. By killing you they'd be getting rid of the last link to Teddy. They'll stop at nothing to get rid of you. Did you see anyone, anyone at all, near the elevator? And why did you start down anyway? I told you I'd come back to the store you were shopping in. What happened? Didn't you buy anything?"
"Yes, I did. I bought a lot of things. But the clerk wouldn't take your Visa without you, without your signature. I was on my way down get you, to bring you back with me. I can't figure out why the kidnapper did the gum thing. How did he know I'd take the elevator instead of the escalator? How did he even know I'd take either one? I could have used the stairs. Or you and I could have taken any one of them together."
"The law of averages. You had to take the stairs, the elevator or the escalator. Alone or with me. You wouldn't take the stairs, you aren't feeling that good. And you wouldn't use the escalator after what happened the other day. So that leaves the elevator. The gum job could have been meant to kill both of us."
"I'm frightened. Trent, I'm really frightened. Now it's us against the kidnappers. Now I know Teddy is alive. I have a son. But I also know I'm a sitting duck, a sitting dead duck. Teddy may not have a mother. Not if the kidnappers have anything to say about it."
"Let's go back into that store and get your new clothes. The manager and probably the police will want us to fill out forms and maybe file a claim. Let's forget it. That will give the kidnappers more information about us, more than they may already know."
"I'm back for my things. I can charge them on the Visa," I said to the clerk as we entered Petites Preferred.
Mary Agnes scowled. "I put them all back in stock. You didn't come back in a half-hour so I figured you had decided against them. Or couldn't use that Visa. Sometimes this happens, you know. We sometimes have a customer who can't use her husband's credit card but tries it anyway. Thinks she can get away with it."
Trent stepped forward. "This isn't one of those times. We'll take all those clothes. And my wife will pay in cash, lady, cash," he snapped angrily, reaching into his jeans and pulling out a wad of bills.
"Sure, sure. I'm sorry I put the clothes back. Company policy. Don't worry, I'll find them. Do you want to help me, lady? With two of us looking it will go much faster, don't you think?" she asked me.
"Yes, it will. There were quite a few things. Jeans. Shirts. A sweater. A jacket. Oh, and a denim vest."
All of the missing clothes were found. Tallying the total the clerk addressed Trent, "You did say cash?"
"I did," Trent told her, handing her five one-hundred dollar bills.
"One-hundreds? We don't take them. Company policy. Seems there are a lot of counterfeit one-hundred's floating around. You should really take those to a bank and have them changed into smaller bills. How about that Visa? I'll take it, I'll charge your wife's things on it."
"Fine," Trent said. "Pen, give her my Visa."
"I don't have it. Didn't I give it back to you?"
"No, you didn't. Maybe you dropped it?"
"Or lost it? I hope not. Where could I have lost it? Down the elevator shaft?"
"Did you have it in your hand when you were waiting for the elevator door to open?" Trent asked.
"I don't remember. I walked out of here, turned left to the elevator. Pressed the elevator door button after that everything happened so fast. A blur. I might have had it my hand. I might have dropped it down the open shaft."
"There goes my big sale, and all that trouble finding those clothes to boot," Mary Agnes complained. "Leave it to me to get a customer who runs around with hundreds and then loses her credit card." She started to void the register's accounting of the purchases when she saw a Visa card on top of the machine. Turning it over she read Trent Summit.
"We must live right. Here's your Visa. It was on my register. Guess I put it there when Mrs. Summit asked me to hold the clothes for her. We're back in business. Sign right here, Mr. Summit," she said, handing Trent the sales receipt.
"What's that noise? Those bells?" I asked, as shrill bells began ringing.
"Security. The Security is closing all the doors to the mall. Means a crime is being committed or there's something going on," the clerk said, handing me my packages.
"Isn't there any way out?" Trent asked.
"Yeah. Out the back way and down the fire escape. It's for employees only, though in a case like this."
"Where is it? Show us where it is. We have things to do, we can't wait around while your Security handles a crime in progress or whatever," Trent said, throwing up his hands.
"Can't show you. Company policy. The way out is for employees only. But I don't blame you for not wanting to hang around. You've all ready been inconvenienced. Oh well. I'm not supposed to but I will. I'll show you the way out. Follow me. But don't ever tell anyone I told you. I'd lose my job," she said, leading us through a back door.
"There. See that door, the one with the red exit sign on it? It's that door. It will take you to the fire escape and down to the parking lot. Remember, don't tell anyone I did this. Okay?"
"Okay, we won't tell a soul," I assured her.
Once outside we walked away from the building and into the parking lot.
"Where do you think we are? We're parked on Lemon Two. Where do you think that is?" I asked.
"I haven't the faintest idea. Anyway, if we try to find it, we may be back to square one. Security may not let us out until they finish whatever they're doing."
"There's a bus stop across the street. Let's take a bus someplace. Or just ride around Vancouver," Pen suggested. "There isn't much we can do now to find Teddy. Let's ride around, get the feel of Vancouver. Maybe we can figure out what else to do while we're riding."
"Great idea. I'll ask the driver for places we can go. Do you have any change?"
"No."
"All I have is those one-hundred dollar bills. Bus drivers don't take bills, they only take coins."
"Maybe it's one of those buses where you pay when you get off."
"We'll soon find out. Come on, I see a bus coming," Trent said, grabbing my arm.
"Do we pay now or later?" Trent asked the driver as we boarded.
"Later. Where do you want to go? What's your stop?" the driver questioned, shifting gears as he pulled the vehicle away from the curb, with one eye on a small TV set he had perched above him.
"We're out for a joy ride. Tourists. Take us anywhere," I said.
"To the police station. You're on TV. Wanted for questioning about something that happened back at the mall. Sit down. I don't allow people standing on my bus. All passengers must be seated. Company policy. You're ruining my route. I'll have to take you to the police station and this will foul up my route. My regular passengers are going to be mad about this," the driver snapped.
Trent doubled his fist and stuck it into his pocket. "Mister, stop the bus. What I have in my pocket looks like a gun, doesn't it? So stop the bus and let us off."
The driver slammed on the brakes, skidding the bus to a quick halt.
"Suits me fine, buddy. I don't want to louse up my route anyway! I've got my regulars to think of," he cried, as we jumped from the bus.
"Now see what you've done? I wish you'd carry some decent money. I feel like a criminal," I complained, as we started walking.
"Done? I haven't done anything. We aren't criminals. I guess we should have stayed put and let the cops ask their questions about what happened to you at the elevator."
"We can always go back. It's not very far. Why don't we?"
"We'll have to. We can't get the car out of Lemon Two unless we talk to the authorities. Give me your bag, I'll carry it. For Pete's sake, what's in it?"
"You were there. You saw what I bought. So now are you reneging about buying me all this stuff?"
"Paying for it is one thing. I didn't know then I'd end up having to carry it for miles and miles."
"Walk faster. It will make us get there quicker and it won't seem so far."
"I think I see the mall up ahead. Let's go in any entrance and turn ourselves in. After we file a report we'll find our car. Then we'll go to those botanical gardens, the Van Dusen Botanical Gardens. We can put fliers on cars and look around for Teddy. Little kids love places like the Gardens, don't they? Oh no! That's our car. It's being towed! There, up ahead, " Trent yelled.
"Stop, stop!" I screamed to the driver of the wrecker towing our car.
The driver slowed down, leaned out his window and asked, "Is this your car?"
"Don't haul it away!" I pleaded.
The tow truck came to a complete stop. "You'll have to come to Nate's Towing to get your car. It all has to do with the paper work. I just tow. I don't do paper work," the driver explained.
"How about money? Do you do money?" Trent asked him, handing him a one-hundred dollar bill.
"Probably counterfeit, isn't it? Well, I'll take a chance on it. I shouldn't but I will. My horoscope said today is a good day to take risks. Hand it over and you can have your car," he said, grabbing the bill Trent offered. "Your car was parked in the wrong zone. Lemon Two is only for certain mall employees. You missed the big excitement back at the mall. Some lady almost fell down an elevator shaft. She was lucky. But a little while after that some little kid, a little boy about five, I guess, fell headfirst down the same shaft. Teddy somebody. He was hurt real bad. Security roped off the mall, wouldn't let anyone in or out until the ambulance came."
Emergency at Vancouver Memorial Hospital was a war zone. We must've hit it during rush hour. The place was wall to wall people. Finally, a nurse approached us and asked if she could help.
"We're looking for a little boy who fell down an elevator shaft at one of the malls. Do you know anything about him? Is he here?" I begged.
"Name? What's his name?" the nurse asked, leading them towards a desk with a computer setting on it.
"Cambridge. Teddy Cambridge. But he may not be here under this name. You see, he was kidnapped. About six months ago. In Scottsdale, Arizona. The kidnappers may have changed his name..." I trailed off. It was obvious she wasn't following me.
"Are you his mother? Has this been reported to the police?"
"Yes. To both questions."
The nurse tapped keys on the computer. "Here it is. The file on the little boy who fell down an elevator shaft at the mall. Just happened. He was brought in by Turner Ambulance. I'm sorry. The little boy has died. Severe head injuries," the nurse said.
"His name. What was his name?" Don't tell me his name.
"Teddy. Teddy Crishom."
Matt and Tim O'Hara were worried about Cambridge Fireworks. Everything was going smoothly, too smoothly. Their supplies were delivered promptly. Orders were coming in almost faster than could be filled. Bills were being paid automatically by Venture Safe Accounting Service. Even the two of them were getting along. It was all too good to be true. Except for the fact that they hadn't heard from their new boss, Trent Summit. He'd said he call in seven days. Well, it was only six days, to be sure, but he could have called, couldn't he? He and Steve's wife were in Vancouver looking for little Teddy Cambridge. Or so they said. They'd left in a big hurry. Barely had said Goodbye. Rumor had it that Mrs. Cambridge and Summit had known one another at ASU. Known one another very well. Looking for Teddy was pretty far-fetched when everyone knew Teddy had been killed along with his Dad and Gordie Horton. Some people would invent any story to have an affair. And another thing, why would Summit put them, the O'Hara brothers, in charge of Cambridge? Summit didn't know a damn thing about them. Summit had money. Big money. Money he'd received from his wife's estate and insurance. Money could buy anything. So maybe Summit was just buying Cambridge as a toy, a toy to keep Mrs. Cambridge happy. She, for some reason, seemed to love Cambridge Fireworks.
Charlie Wong sat at his desk staring into space. The file for the Cambridge Fireworks case lay in front of him. Trent would be calling him sometime today for an update and he wouldn't be telling him good news. The news he would have to tell Trent was worse, much worse, than Charlie had suspected: Gordie Horton had committed nine arsons. Cambridge was his tenth. But even this wasn't the worst of it. Three of the fires Horton had set involved children. Two schools. One pre-school. The Quintard Grammar School in San Diego, the Oceanside Junior High in Oceanside, and the Linda Vista Pre-School in Linda Vista. All in California, all within a few miles of one another. The Cambridge fire was Horton's last because Horton loused up. He made a mistake of some kind. Summit had thought Horton accidentally involved the little Cambridge kid, that killing him was as big a mistake as killing himself. Not so. Horton meant to kill the kid along with Steve Cambridge and Mrs. Cambridge. But the missus didn't take whatever bait Horton might have used to con her into going into the warehouse that morning. Instead she had stayed in the house baking something. That baking had saved her life.
The morgue in Vancouver Memorial had a nasty smell. Doug Morris was sniffing coke again. Hanging around the morgue was reason enough to make anyone sniff. And last night's orgy with Mervyn and Claudie made him want it even more. That damn creep Claudie. Who the hell cares if he's a bi? Just because Mervyn went into the crazies over it, who the hell really cares? And Claudie had called Merv a queer. Merv was a queer, so what? Doug quit sniffing. Someone had come into the outer room.
"Is anyone here?" a voice called.
"Yeah, I'm coming. Gimme a moment or two," Doug yelled back, rubbing his hands on his pants. It was always something. He never had a minute to himself. And he sure needed help, an assistant. The bigwigs bitched there never was enough funding money. Not when it came to their salaries, though. For what they were paid he could have a dozen assistants! Those bigwigs didn't do a thing but sit on their asses and screw around with computers, paperwork, and every woman in their offices. And for that they got paid bucks. Bucks like he himself would never see. They drove the best cars, lived in the best houses. Had dozens of credit cards with unlimited credit. They ate at the best places, like the Wall Centre Gardens and the Vancouver Seasons. Now one of the hospital officials was here to check him out. He rubbed his hands on his pants again. No sense taking a chance on anyone noticing the coke.
"Hello! Is anyone here?" Trent hollered.
"Odd that no one is here. You'd think in a big hospital like this there'd be someone here, wouldn't you?" I said.
"Are you getting sick? Your face is dirty gray. The smell around here is enough to make a person sick, that's for sure. Do you want to wait some place while I stay here?"
"No, no. You don't know Teddy. You wouldn't be able to -- well -- no."
"Give me one of his pictures. Pen, maybe you shouldn't be here. This is a rough thing to go through. I can do this."
"Thanks. I appreciate your wanting to do this for me. But, Trent, I'm his mother. I have to do this. You understand, don't you?"
"Yes. You mean because you're all Teddy has. If his father was alive, well, that would make all the difference in the world, he could identify..."
"Yes, if his father were here." The irony of that statement struck me. Trent was starting to come undone. Almost like Teddy was his...
"Hello. A five year old boy. He was killed at one of the malls," I explained, as a young man entered the room. "I think he's my little boy. Teddy Crishom."
"This is highly irregular. We don't allow families here without someone from the hospital staff with them. Let me have your papers," Doug insisted.
"The doctor in charge of the case had an emergency. We don't have Teddy's papers yet," Trent said.
"Well, I can't show the deceased without the papers. I'll call upstairs and get someone to sign them and bring them down."
Trent started screaming. And screaming. "What are you trying to do to us? Our little boy is here and you need papers to allow us to see him?" He handed Doug a one-hundred-dollar bill.
Doug's head began to dance with euphoria. A hundred! U.S. money!
"Okay, okay. I don't usually show without the written but in your case I'll make an exception. What was the name again?" he said.
"Teddy Crishom," I said, holding my voice steady. It was important that the name be audible.
"Follow me," Doug ordered, leading us into a large room. "I'll just be a minute.
Teddy. "Here we have him," Doug said, pulling out a long tray and folding back a white sheet. "I'm supposed to warn you..."
I stood back from the child's body. Slowly, I came closer and closer, wanting to touch, wanting to hold him. He lay naked. Still. Cold. I leaned against Trent, grateful he was standing beside me. For the first time he was seeing his son. For the last time he was seeing his son. He would never know him, never hold him. So many nevers. I came closer. Closer.
Trent stared at the little boy. Blonde. His blond hair was crusted with blood. A slender little child. Long legs. His eyes were closed in sleep, waiting to awaken from a nap. His face was a golden tan, a beautiful face, one that surely should be smiling, laughing mischievously. His small hands lay at his sides, soldier-like, accepting their fate that they'd never play again. Trent placed his hand on the child's. Cold. Death is so cold. He was conscious of me standing beside him.
"Handsome. He's a handsome little boy."
I felt lightheaded. "But he isn't my little boy. He isn't Teddy, he isn't my Teddy."
"I want to go back to the Gull. Right now it's home. I want to go home, Trent. I'm sick, sick inside. That little boy, that little Teddy, wasn't my Teddy. And I'm grateful. I can't tell anyone how grateful. But he's someone's. And whoever she is, my heart goes to her. I feel responsible. It was my fault that he fell down the elevator shaft," I agonized as we left the morgue.
"It's natural for you to think like this, but of course you aren't responsible. Someone at the mall is responsible for not securing the area. The manager said someone would, remember? The real guilty person is whoever planned this, whoever put that gum. That's the guilty one. I can't believe this. I can't believe it isn't your Teddy. I really thought it was. I'm like you. Grateful, oh God, I'm so grateful that it isn't. But I can't believe it. You must be torn into pieces." Trent seemed close to tears.
"I am. I'm numb. I felt as if Teddy had died again. This time forever. Now that we know he's alive, well, I don't know where my feelings begin and where they end. Trent, I think we should go to the police again and try to get them to help us."
"We could. It wouldn't hurt. Maybe we'll be able to talk to someone who will listen this time. We'll go back to the Gull. You lay down for awhile. I'll go someplace and make a few phone calls. I want to call our O'Hara brothers and my PI buddy, Chan. His name isn't Chan, Pen. It's Wong. Charlie Wong."
"Wong? Why did you let me go around calling him Chan all this time?"
"You called him Chan. I let you. Who cares what his name is? I told the O'Hara's and Charlie I'd phone them today. After you rest and I make these calls we'll go to police headquarters. Maybe we can get someone to listen this time. It won't hurt for us to go to the police station," he said, as he tried to park in front of the Gull.
"The place is swarming with police! I wonder what's going on?"
Trent rolled down a car window as a young policeman came towards them.
"Officer, what's happening at the Gull?" Trent asked.
"We've roped off the area. Murder suspect. Hiding out at the Gull we think. Some American guy. Name's Summit. If you folks have a reservation at the Gull you might as well forget it for now because we're not letting anyone in," the policeman explained.
"An American? Murdered someone? Who did he murder?" I asked.
"His wife. Ashley Summit. He murdered her in the United States awhile back and got away with it. Until now. It happened in that Grand Canyon state. Oregon or some place, I never was good at geography. Now you folks will have to leave. Sorry about your reservation at the Gull. But you can probably find another place to stay. Vancouver has lots of motels."
Trent stomped on the accelerator as he pulled away from the Gull.
"Slow down! Getting a speeding ticket is a sure ticket to murderer's row."
"Murder? Me? Murder Ashley? How could this happen and why and who?"
"Right now we have to find a place to hide. What about those Gardens? The ones we were planning to go to. Dusen's."
"The Van Dusen Botanical Gardens. Yes, we might as well go there as anyplace, I guess. It's big. Has rock displays and lakes. Vistas of the mountains and the city. It's just the place for us to hide."
"I suppose you and Ashley went to the Gardens?"
"Yes. You suppose right."
"It's ironic. Ironic that today you learned you're wanted for her murder. And here you are. Once again at the Gardens."
"I didn't kill her. You believe me, don't you? You do believe that I didn't murder Ashley, don't you?"
"As much as I believe anything. Yes, I believe you. If you didn't kill her who did? Why would the police think she was murdered? Now, after all this time?"
"I don't know. All I know is that I didn't do it."
"To be ordinary, to be very mundane, could we stop at a little girl's room?"
"I join you in that idea. Not in the little girl's room, just the idea," Trent said, hoping to create some levity.
"It's started to rain. My jacket's in the back seat. I'll need it. Do you want yours, too?"
"Yes. It's in the back, on the floor. Grab it for me will you? I see a rest stop just ahead," he said, slowing the car.
I was sitting in the car waiting for him when he came out of the men's room.
"I didn't think I'd ever see the time when I'd beat you out of the john. You're all wet. Why don't you have your jacket on? What's that you have wrapped in your jacket?"
"Mommy? Mom? Is it really you?" Teddy cried, holding out his arms to me as Trent flung open his jacket.
I could not laugh nor cry. I sat without expression of any kind, as if my face had been fixed, frozen in shock. Trent had brought me my son.
"It's me, Mommy! Teddy! Don't you remember me?" he cried, putting his arms around her. "Did you forget me?"
"How could I forget you?" I stammered. My arms lifted, slowly, quietly, then wrapped Teddy inside, rocking him, sheltering him.
"Teddy, get down on the floor! We have to leave this area," Trent ordered.
Without hesitation Teddy jerked himself away from me and fell to the floor.
"As I went inside the john I saw this little blond kid washing his hands. He reminded me of Teddy. Then I knew. It was Teddy! I leaned down and whispered his name to him. You should have seen the look on his face. I wrapped him up in my jacket and here we are," Trent said when we were in the car.
Teddy was talking at the same time. "Jeff and I went to the men's. But I got finished first. I was standing there, washing my hands like you told me to always do, then this guy," he said as he pointed to Trent, "this guy whispered my name in my ear. Then he grabbed me, put me in his jacket. I was so scared. I thought I was being kidnapped all over again. How did you find me, Mommy?"
Words flooded me. "We've been looking for you. Teddy, I thought you were dead. In the explosion. I thought you'd been killed. This guy, this guy who found you is my friend, Trent Summit. He's been helping me look for you. We thought you were dead."
"I wasn't dead but I sure was dirty. My Dad? He's okay, isn't he?"
Should I tell him? Should I wait to tell him?
"I'm sorry. No, he isn't okay. He and Gordie. They were -- they died. You? What happened to you? Tell us what happened to you?" He was limp as I tightened my arms around him.
"My Dad is dead? And Gordie? I was going to help them. I was going into the warehouse. Dad said I could come in and help him, him and Gordie, pack some stuff. Then when I opened the door I dropped Tony. So I picked Tony up and boom!"
"That must have been when the explosion hit."
"I dunno. It was loud! Tony and I woke up in Jeff and Muriel's car. They said they were taking me to a hospital. But they never did. They never did. And Tony lost an eye. But they didn't care at all. We just drove and drove. Did you know I'm in Vancouver? I'm in Canada?" he sobbed.
"Yes, I know! You've been here for a long time." I was sobbing too.
"How did you know where to find me? And why didn't you find me sooner? I cried and cried. But you didn't come, Mommy."
"Remember that t-shirt we had made for your Daddy? The one with your picture on it?"
"The one we had made for Father's Day? And after we had it made we went to the Sugar Bowl for chocolate sodas?"
"Trent spilled coffee on his shirt so he borrowed that t-shirt to wear. We stopped at a place near Wickenburg for lunch. 'Annie's Forever'. You stopped there with those people. Annie saw your picture on the shirt Trent was wearing and recognized you. Annie convinced us you were alive, that you'd been in her restaurant. She said you didn't eat very much, that she gave you your cheeseburger 'to go' for Tonytiger. Do you remember her?"
"I think so," Teddy replied.
"Tell us about this guy Jeff and that woman named Muriel. Were they nice to you? Did they treat you well?" Trent asked, maneuvering the car away from a huge produce truck.
"Sometimes they were nice and sometimes they were mean. Muriel was the nicest. But Jeff! Boy, did he ever get mad at me a lot. Where's Tony?" he asked.
"Look inside my jacket. Is he in there?" Trent asked.
"I'm looking, I'm looking. No, he isn't here. He's lost! Go back! Quick, go back to that men's!. Tony is on the ledge, by the basin, where I washed my hands. Go back!" Teddy cried.
"I can't do that, Teddy. Jeff and Muriel are sure to be looking for you. We don't want them to know we have you. I'll buy you another Tony. Any Tony you want," Trent promised.
"There isn't any other Tony. I don't want another Tonytiger. Go back, please, go back."
"Okay. Okay. We'll go back. You stay on the floor. Pen, you lay down there with him and stay out of sight. Throw me my jacket. It's still raining. I'll pull the jacket around me to keep my face hidden. And I'll have to park down away from that john," Trent figured, as he pivoted the car around and headed back to the Gardens.
"Don't worry. Trent will find your Tonytiger for you," I assured Teddy.
But Trent didn't. Tony wasn't on the ledge. Or anywhere else. He was gone.
"I bet Jeff has him," Teddy exclaimed. "Jeff hates Tony. I bet he keeps for himself. He was always saying he would."
"If you want me to buy you another Tony, I will," Trent offered. He was dripping wet.
"Maybe we'll find Jeff and I'll get Tony back. I've had him all my life. Where are we going? Home? Are we going home?"
"Soon, honey. Not right now. Where are we going, Trent?" I prodded.
"I'm taking you two to the Gull. Or close to it. I'll have to let you out a block or so before we get there."
"The Gull? Isn't it dangerous for you to even drive within a block of the Gull?"
"Probably. But where else can I take you and Teddy?"
"And what about you? Where are you going?"
"I'll make my way back to the Gull. Meet you in our room."
"Mrs. Gooch may not let me in. She doesn't like me. You're the one she likes. But she thinks you're..." I stopped, careful not to say 'dead'.
"Mrs. Gooch is all we have going for us. Don't let her throw you out. Speaking of out, get out here. I'll see you later," Trent said, stopping the car.
"Where are we going, Mommy?" Teddy asked, putting his hand in mine. "Don't ever let me get kidnapped again, will you?"
"I won't. Believe me, I won't. We're going to an inn. An inn is like a motel but nicer. Trent and I've been staying there while we looked for you. The lady who owns it is Mrs. Gooch. But she doesn't like me very well for some reason. But she'll like you."
A uniformed officer approached them as they neared the Gull. "Sorry, lady, no one allowed past this point."
"Yes, I heard about this. My mother, Mrs. Gooch told me. I'm Pen, her daughter. Mother is very upset about what's happened, what's going on. She asked my son and I to come over and keep her company. Teddy, say hello to this nice policeman."
"Hi."
"Mrs. Gooch's daughter? I didn't know she had a daughter. And so this is her grandson? Yeah, go ahead. I'll tell you, she'll be glad to see you. She's pretty upset about all this. We haven't caught the guy. In fact, we haven't even seen the guy. You know what I think? I think he won't show his face around here. I mean, he'd have to be nuts to show up here. We've got this place surrounded. Tell Mrs. Gooch hello from Bert Howell," he said, stepping aside to allow us to pass.
"Mommy, you told lies back there," Teddy whispered.
"I know I did and I'm sorry. But this is one time when I don't have any choice. We have to have a place to stay and Mrs. Gooch's is all there is."
"Is that her? That lady standing at the door? The one with the big broom?" Teddy asked in a frightened voice.
"And just what do you think you're doing? How did you get past Bert Howell and his men? And who is this? I don't allow children," Mrs. Gooch said, her teeth clenched in anger.
"I'm Teddy Cambridge. I'm five years old. I was stolen but now my Mommy has found me. And I've lost my friend Tonytiger. Do you have any cookies at your house? I'm a boy who loves cookies."
"Do I have any cookies? Of course I do. Mrs. Gooch makes the best cookies in the world. You come on in. How many can you eat? Milk? I bet you like milk with your cookies. Say, what do you mean you were stolen but now your Mommy has found you? And who's this Tony person? Some friend of your mother's? You can come in too, Mrs. Summit. Teddy. You said your name is Teddy. It's a nice name," Mrs. Gooch said, leaning her big broom against a wall. "I'm sorry about your daddy," she added.
Teddy began to sob. "My daddy!"
"Don't cry, don't cry. Mrs. Gooch will let you make animal cookies. We'll make lions, bears, tigers..." she offered.
With that Teddy began to cry even harder.
"No animal cookies. I'll tell you what, you and Auntie Gladys will bake a pie. I'll let you roll the dough with my big rolling pin."
Just then she saw a familiar face peering in the kitchen window. It was Trent.
"You're dead! How can you be looking into my window? Look, Teddy, there's your daddy," she said, pointing to Trent.
"That's not my daddy," Teddy replied. "That's my mother's friend."
Trent looked sheepish as he entered the kitchen. He walked towards me. "I'm not dead, Mrs. Gooch. You made that up in your imagination. What I am is in trouble."
"Trouble? I knew it. That's all the two of you have been to me since you arrived. You'll have to leave! I run a decent place. I don't allow trouble."
"We can't leave. At least not quite yet. The police are after Trent. For murder of his wife. Ashley. Trent didn't kill her. But the Scottsdale, Arizona police think he did. Your police here are looking for him to send him back to Scottsdale. But murder isn't why we came here. Let me begin at the beginning," I said, pointing to a kitchen chair. "Let's all sit down and I'll tell you why we came to Vancouver."
"To find me!" Teddy piped up.
I told Gladys the whole story, from beginning to end. Gladys was a good listener. She didn't even interrupt when I took a breath and continued.
"We have to keep him safe until we get back to Scottsdale. But going back to Scottsdale presents another problem. Trent is wanted for murder in Scottsdale. Along with everything else, someone is trying to -- hurt -- me. There have been attempts. Here in Vancouver."
Gladys rose from her chair and went to the refrigerator. "I'd be an accessory to murder, wouldn't I? The three of you can't sleep in just that one room. You'll have to take the room next door as well. The two rooms connect. I have an idea about keeping all of you safe. Mrs. Summit, or whatever you call yourself, put on an apron and help me get dinner. Trent, you take Teddy upstairs for a nap before dinner. Then you come back downstairs. I have some chores for you to do. But don't go outside. Bert Howell is still manning his police post. Once we get dinner started I'll go out and talk to Bert. Tell him he might as well leave, that there's no murderer around my Inn. I'll box up some of my Snickerdoodle cookies for him to take home. Snickerdoodles are Bert's favorites. Mrs. Summit, say, what is your first name? I can't keep calling you Mrs. all the time. Start peeling those potatoes in that bag by the pantry. Peel all of them. Our two boys will want seconds on my smashed potatoes. And you won't need to worry about a thing now that you have Gladys. Well, you may have to worry but at least you'll do it on a full stomach."
Hidden in a clump of bushes Cass watched as Gladys backed her red Honda out of the Gull's driveway and sped away. She checked her watch. Seven- ten.
"It's up to you to fix our men a hearty breakfast, " Gladys had said. "I have a list of things to see to. And I have to buy gas. I'm low. I want to get an early start. I'll be back before noon."
Odd of the Gooch woman would leave so early. This was not her pattern. Maybe she was going to a market for groceries? Bacon, eggs, coffee? Just thinking of food caused Cass' stomach to hurt. There was a small cafe a few blocks north of the Gull. She'd have time to walk there, have a meal, and return to the Gull by the time Gooch returned and any activity happened.
"Sorry, miss, I'm closed," the cafe owner told her as she opened the door.
"Your sign says 'open'," Cass said, sarcastically.
"I haven't taken the time to turn it over to 'closed'. Had a water leak. Real bad one. Water everywhere. Well, not in the kitchen yet but it sure won't be long til it's flooded. Sorry. Come back another day," he suggested.
"Can't. I'm just visiting here. Tourist. I hate those fast food places. Fix me something to go."
"Well, yeah, I could do that. Where you from? What do you want?"
"Eggs, bacon, muffins. Coffee. I'm from California."
"Never been there and doubt that I will. I can tell you're from California. You're so tan. Are you one of those surfers? My daughter and her husband live in California. Carlsbad. They're both surfers. I have a son who lives in Panama City, Florida. He's not married. How about you? Any sisters or brothers? You get juice with your order. What will it be? Orange, grapefruit, cranberry?"
"I had sister. Twin sister. She died about a year ago. I'll have cranberry. Is there a bathroom I could use?"
"The cafe john is under water but you can use ours. It's up the stairs and to the left. How do you want your eggs? And how many?"
"Over easy. Three. And put in two large cups of coffee. Black."
Cass sipped coffee as she returned to man her post outside the Gull. A good breakfast was what she needed. This could prove to be a long, long day. Her attempts to kill Pen hadn't panned out well at all. She'd barely brushed her with the rental car outside that McDonald's. And Pen had somehow managed to avoid serious injuries from being shoved down the escalator and from the ferry. Then there was the elevator shaft. Pen ended up with only a few bruises. She and Trent were suspicious by now, they were on guard.
Suddenly it occurred to her that she'd walked away from the cafe without paying. The owner, busy with his water problem, hadn't mentioned a bill. Not that she minded a free meal. She didn't. But she did mind having a cop walk up to her with some kind of a warrant. She couldn't afford a cop on her tail. Maybe she should go back, pay whatever she owed? No, the cafe owner had said he was closing. In fact, if she'd arrived a few minutes later, the place would have been closed. He'd said he was closing but he hadn't said he would be gone. He was cleaning up after that water leak. He'd be there. Yes, she'd walk back, pay for the breakfast. Later. She turned to lock the car when a flash of red zipped by.
Gladys was doing fifty and she didn't slow down as she drove into the Gull driveway. Her brakes screeched as she stomped them to a jerky stop. Gladys was home...probably with the groceries...she'd have to fix breakfast for her guests.
"I'm back and do I ever have surprises for the three of you," Gladys said, handing Pen, Trent, and Teddy packages.
"What's all this, Gladys?" Trent asked.
"Is it Christmas in Vancouver?" Teddy wanted to know.
"Disguises! I've brought you each a disguise. With Trent being wanted for murder and Teddy hiding from those kidnappers, I figured the only way any of you can move around, get out and about, is to go in disguise. Teddy, you open your sack first," Gladys said.
"I can't wear these, Auntie Gladys. These are girl's clothes!" Teddy groaned as he took out a paisley dress, pink jacket, a jean hat with a sunflower, and pink sandals. "I can't wear these!"
"Certainly you can, of course you can. You want to be a free spirit, don't you? You can't roam around Vancouver looking like a little boy. I hope they all fit. I just guessed at sizes," Gladys said. "Put them on, Teddy. Auntie Gladys will help you with your buttons. Pen, you're next. Take your things out of the bag."
"Boys stuff? A ball cap, jeans, sweatshirt, Vancouver school jacket?" I said.
"You're so tiny and skinny people will think you're a young boy. You can't be a young woman, they're looking for a young woman," Gladys warned.
Trent reached into his sack. Out came a black jacket, black trouser, black shoes, and a white shirt with a separate white collar.
"Meet Father Trent. But don't get any ideas about converting me," Gladys warned.
"Gladys, I can't dress as a priest. There's a law about that kind of thing. They call it impersonation. Illegal impersonation," Trent explained.
"So who cares? You're all ready up for murder. Besides, I have the perfect solution to this. Halloween. You're planning to wear it for Halloween and you're just trying to get used to it. See, I've thought of everything. How was your breakfast and is there any coffee?"
"But Gladys, this is only the last of August. Halloween is months away. And there's the moral aspect of my wearing a priest's outfit -- garments, vestments," Trent countered.
"The breakfast was delicious. Not as delicious as yours, Gladys, but delicious. Yes, there's coffee. I just brewed a new pot. And I saved you some bacon and blueberry muffins. I'm wearing my disguise and happy to have it. I, for one, don't relish the idea of hiding out day after day inside the Gull with nothing to do. We'll be free if we wear our disguises. We can go someplace. How about the zoo?" I suggested.
"I'll be a girl, I'll wear this stuff. Can I eat a lot of junk at the zoo? Can I touch the animals? And are there any rides?" Teddy said, putting the hat on.
"I may as well go along with you. As Father Trent. Come on, let's go upstairs and change into our incognitos," Trent relented, picking up his sack.
"What's an incognitos?" Teddy asked.
"Jail-bait clothes, Teddy," Trent replied, giving him a hug.
"What should I go as?" Gladys asked. "I forgot about me. I forgot to get myself a disguise. Who shall I be?"
"The grandmother!" shouted Teddy.
"Could I?" Gladys asked. "Could I be the grandmother? Do you all think I could?"
"You can be anything, Gladys. Anything. And yes, you'll make a terrific grandmother," I told her.
"How shall I behave? Or walk? And how shall I talk?" Gladys asked.
"Like yourself. Be yourself," Teddy said, wrapping his arms around her. "But after this is over, I am not ever going to be a little girl again!"
"Once everyone is ready I'll take a picture of us dressed in our disguises. I have a new Polaroid. It takes pictures by remote, or something." Gladys told them.
"I'm ready, Auntie Gladys. See, don't I look awful as a girl?" Teddy complained.
"Beautiful. Darling. You look darling, Teddy. Pen, Father Trent, Teddy, take your places around the piano. I've got the camera set. Make room for me. And smile, say cheese. Isn't this fun? Look out zoo, here we come!"
Gladys' red Honda backed out of her driveway. This time there were three passengers. A priest and a young boy sat in the back. In the front, by Gladys, was a little girl. Funny, thought Cass, watching from her hiding place. She didn't remember seeing a priest, a young boy or a little girl check in at the Gull. Wait a minute. Of course, Gladys wasn't going to a market for groceries earlier. She was going to pick up these new guests, probably at the airport. Yes, this had to be it. Cass climbed into the front seat of her rental to follow them.
No, she decided, following those new guests wouldn't be of any value at all. She needed to follow Pen and Trent. But where were they? She hadn't seen hide nor hair of them this morning. Were they still asleep? If so, this might be a great opportunity to kill Pen. There wouldn't be any witnesses. Trent, alone with Pen, would be blamed.
The police were looking for him for one murder. Another wouldn't be difficult for them to believe. How to kill Pen? She'd figure this out after she was inside the Gull.
Cass took a dark green hat from her jacket pocket, put it on, and pulled it down, over her face. Walking on the edge of the driveway, she flattened her body into the bushes. Somewhere a cat howled. Cass hurried to the back of the Gull, hoping the cat's bellowing would cover any noises she might make. She turned the knob of the back door. Nothing. Pressing her left shoulder against it, she shoved the door - hard. Nothing. She'd have to use the blade of her pocketknife. Better not. A breaking and entering, perhaps Trent and Pen would hear her. Or if the police found the shavings the knife made it could be a possible defense for Trent.
She tried the door again, this time by holding the knob with one hand, placing a foot against the door and pushing with all her might. The door swung open. Cautiously, Cass stepped inside, mindful that she would encounter either Pen or Trent. Or both. With her hat pulled down, wearing dark glasses, Trent wouldn't recognize her as Ashley's twin. She'd introduce herself as a guest. Gain their confidence. She'd make up some reason to get Pen alone, then make her move. Scissors, a knife, a heavy object. A weapon wasn't going to be a problem. The inn was quiet. Pen and Trent must be late sleepers. Removing her shoes, she stuck them in her jeans pockets. Up a flight of stairs, moving from room to room, listening, listening. The inn was empty.
Quietly, she walked down the stairs, into the large, sunny kitchen. An oak table was set with white place servings, antique silver, blue thumb print goblets. In the middle of the table was a large cut glass bowl filled with fresh fruit. Cass took a banana, peeled it, and took a bite. A huge blue and yellow cookie jar sat in the far corner of the pine cabinets. Cass gulped the rest of the banana, threw the peelings in the sink and grabbed a handful of chocolate chippers from the jar. She wandered into the living room, impressed with its elegant and fine furnishings. She hadn't expected such grandeur from Gooch. On the desk was a picture too contemporary to fit in with the inn's appointments. It was a Polaroid. A picture of Gooch, the priest, the young boy and little girl who had driven away. Looking closely, Cass recognized them. The priest was Trent Summit. The young boy was Pen Cambridge. The little girl? Cass had no idea. Why were Trent and Pen dressed as they were? What was going on here?
Trent was wanted for murder. Every policeman in Vancouver was looking for him. A priest? A disguise. And Pen dressed as a young boy. A priest and a young boy and a little girl. The police wouldn't recognize Trent -- he was free to come and go as he pleased. Cass picked up the picture. She had to have it. She'd fax copies of it to the Vancouver and Scottsdale police. Damn it to hell. She'd missed killing Pen one more time. She should have followed them. But in doing so, she would have missed out on the picture. She'd find a fax machine, send the copies, and return to the cafe to pay for that breakfast.
The busy signal was driving Webbie Crane nuts. Larkin, Vancouver police, had promised to call him about their progress on locating Summit. But the telephone lines were out from those Arizona monsoons. Hell, he couldn't call out and no one could call in. He'd been checking his phone every few minutes and get the bzzzz. Larkin had phoned him earlier to say Summit had been seen but had given his men the slip.
Webbie lit a cigarette. He was on his third pack, hell, he had to quit! Maybe he'd try some of that nicotine gum? But if he quit the cigs he'd gain weight. So if he didn't croak from lung cancer he'd probably croak from obesity. There was no easy answer. He stubbed the cigarette out, picked up the phone and dialed Vancouver.
Finally. The line was open.
"This is Crane. Scottsdale, Arizona police. Lemme speak to Larkin. Oh. Yeah, hi, Larkin. Have you been trying to reach me? Yeah, yeah, big storms. Monsoons, we call them. So fill me in on what's what with our boy Summit."
Webbie let out a yell. Someone had sent Larkin a fax with a picture of Summit, a woman named Pen Cambridge, a little kid, and the owner of a Vancouver inn, a woman by the name of Gooch. Summit was dressed as a priest. It was obvious that he was holding this Pen Cambridge and the kid and the Gooch woman as hostages. No, no harm done to any of them so far. Summit was holding them at an inn, the Gull Inn in Vancouver. Larkin had put a stakeout on the place, a really good man by the name of Howell. Howell knew the area, the Gull, and Gooch. It was just a matter of time now until Summit was caught.
No sweat. Summit killed his wife, no doubt about it. Ashley Summit. Summit killed her. No, he hadn't received a fax. Maybe the monsoons knocked his fax machine out? No, he hadn't any idea who had called to tell him Summit was in Vancouver. The caller was careful to disguise his voice and hadn't stayed on the phone long enough to be traced. The caller was convincing, absolutely convincing, that Summit had murdered his wife. Summit had motive, opportunity, and the caller had the proof...proof that would be available once Summit was in Scottsdale police custody.
After Webbie hung up he thought about the name Cambridge. Then it hit him.
Cambridge was the lady who came in with Summit and asked for copies of the files concerning the fireworks company explosion. The ones that couldn't be found.
The very ones he was looking for. Cambridge. Her husband and little boy had been killed in the explosion. And someone else, too. Name, name. Webbie couldn't put a name on the someone else. An employee. Mrs. Cambridge, what was she doing in Vancouver? Little boy? A little boy? Mrs. Cambridge's little boy had been killed in that explosion. What was she doing in Vancouver with Summit? Had he forced her to go there with him?
Webbie wished he could locate those files about the Cambridge explosion. He'd searched until he was sick of it. But he hadn't found them. If only Ski Dombroski had used the computer. But Ski hated computers. He didn't understand them and he hated them. As for the missing files, it might be they'd never be found. Funny, those files disappearing like that.
Larkin had said it was only a matter of time now until Summit was caught. But what about the Cambridge woman? And who was that little kid? Webbie lit a cigarette. He wouldn't smoke the damn thing, he'd just hold it. Holding it didn't count and couldn't hurt. Maybe he should call Larkin back and tell him what he knew about the Cambridge woman? This information might be very valuable to Larkin. And Larkin would be impressed by his calling back, after all, in law enforcement one hand should scratch the other. Webbie picked up the phone and dialed Vancouver. Bzzzz.
Not again. He took a drag from his cigarette. He couldn't possibly quit now, not now, of all times in his career.
Matt O'Hara mopped up what he could. Most of the shipment had been drenched by the monsoons when the tarp that covered them blew off. Tim had driven into Scottsdale to buy electric fans and extension cords, as many as he could get his hands on. That was hours ago. He'd probably stopped at Pepe's for tacos and a little of Consuelo, Pepe's waitress. Matt looked out at the sprawling desert surrounding Cambridge Ranch. In the distance he could see a yellow truck, Tim's truck. Since the rollover accident, when they'd painted it yellow, it could be seen for miles. Tim was driving hell-bent. Not like him at all. Tim didn't drive fast, if any thing, he drove too slow. Ever since the rollover Tim wouldn't drive over thirty. But he was sure high-balling it now.
"You'll never believe me," Tim yelled from his open truck window.
"Believe what? I hope you're not going to tell me all the electric fans were sold out and the extensions cords, too? Why were you driving so fast? You were doing eighty, Tim. At least eighty," Matt yelled back.
Tim couldn't wait to get out of the truck. "I got the fans and the extension cords. Matt, I was listening to the radio and heard the damnedest. Some interference, I guess. Maybe it came in because of the way we re-wired the radio after my rollover? It was a telephone call between a guy in Vancouver and one of our Scottsdale police. They were talking about Trent Summit. That he's wanted for murder. Here. He murdered his wife! He's in Vancouver. There's more. Pen, our Pen. Summit is holding her hostage. Her and a little kid and some woman."
"You've got to be kidding. Our Pen? Our Trent Summit, the guy who hired us?"
Matt exclaimed. "Yes, he and Pen went to Vancouver."
"Right! And there's more. The Vancouver police got a fax from someone. A fax with pictures all of them, with Summit as a priest."
"Did I hear you say a priest?"
"You heard me, I did say a priest. Wait, I have more. Our Scottsdale police got a tip from someone who said that Summit had motive, opportunity and that he, this tipster guy, would give them proof. Matt, Pen is in danger. No doubt about it. We should call the police and tell them what we know."
"Yeah, we should. But what do we know? Did you get the name of guy in Scottsdale? What police station, Tim, did you know which one it was?"
"The guy here said his name was Crane. Which police station? I don't know. Crane didn't say."
"You call the different police stations while I get these fans going on the shipment," Matt said. "There can't be too many Cranes who just talked to Vancouver."
"Crane will be happy to hear from us about this," Tim said. "It's not everyday the police get a call from private citizens with pertinent information like we have. We'll be doing them a service. But most of all, we'll be helping Pen. In fact, our phone call may save her life. Hers and those other two people. Hard to believe, isn't it? That Summit is a killer. I don't think either of us suspected it. No wonder we haven't heard from him. Me, I liked the guy. I have to admit it, I liked the guy. He sure had me fooled. How about you?"
"Yeah, I liked him. He seemed decent enough. Treated us well. Treated Pen well, too. He had that air conditioner installed for her, remember? And when she went kinda nutsy and thought Teddy was still alive he agreed. Took her to Vancouver. Of course we know now why he agreed. Agreed with any and everything Pen asked, especially when she said she wanted to go to Vancouver. She was his ticket out of the United States. His ticket to freedom."
"We don't charge for priests or any one in their party, Father," the zoo attendant told Trent as he approached the ticket window.
Trent handed him a one-hundred bill. "No, I'd like to pay for our tickets. I appreciate your generosity but really, I'd like to pay."
"Sure, Father, whatever you say. Just don't be telling my mother. She'd never forgive me for charging a priest a penny for anything," the attendant replied, giving Trent his change.
"This is going to be a day to remember. By the way, have I told you that you look smashing as a priest?"
"I almost absolutely, completely immoral thinking the thoughts I'm thinking!"
"And just what are those thoughts?" I asked.
"That now that your bruises aren't so painful...how much I'd like to have you anoint you all over."
"With what?"
"Kisses. And..."
"And?"
Teddy came running to us. "Mommy, Trent, look, look!" he exclaimed, pointing to four elephants being hosed down by a man dressed in a tan jumpsuit. "Let's watch."
Gladys stood alone, watching Teddy, and laughing. I walked to her side then put my arm around her.
"He's quite a little boy, isn't he? Hard to believe that only a few days ago I wondered if I'd ever really have him back in my life. I have to tell you though, I'm paranoid, I'm so afraid he'll be stolen again. Coming here to the zoo, well, I almost said no. But I didn't want to spoil it for Teddy. I'd really like to go back to Arizona.
"I doubt that I'll ever, ever feel secure again, though. Those people that kidnapped Teddy might be looking for him. I want to go to the police but we can't. Not with the police looking for Trent. He makes a handsome priest, Gladys."
"Yes, he does. Well, he's a handsome man. You know, I think Teddy looks a lot like Trent. They look enough alike to be father and son. And they even act alike. Look at Teddy, the way he's standing. Honestly, if that isn't exactly the way Trent stands. The police won't ever catch Trent. The three of you can stay with me as long as you like. Forever. You can have the rooms free. If you feel crowded, we can switch rooms. You can have mine and I'll take yours. You and Trent aren't married, are you?"
"No. When we were young we planned to marry. But things didn't work out. I married Steve Cambridge," I said.
"Teddy's father?" Gladys asked.
"Yes, Teddy's father," I replied, looking away.
"He isn't, is he? This Steve Cambridge. He's not Teddy's father, is he? Trent is Teddy's father. I knew it the minute I saw them together," Gladys admitted.
I didn't answer. "Teddy, Trent, come on. Let's go to the monkey cage. There's a show in ten minutes."
"All the monkeys are not in the show. We have one right here," Trent told us, as he picked Teddy up and held him high over his head.
"Could we get popcorn and hot dogs and cokes and ice cream?" Teddy asked.
"Sure we can. And all get sick. Well, why not?" Trent said.
"Why not? Because if we all get sick who is going to take care of any of us."
"Me. I'll take care of you all. I can eat anything and never get sick. Trust your Gladys. She can eat anything," Gladys bragged. "Me, I'll start with a hot dog covered with mustard, onions and chili."
"Ditto that for me," Trent said.
"Ditto it for me, Pen Cambridge."
"Double ditto it for me, Teddy Cambridge. One thing I want to know though," Teddy said. "Can priests eat hot dogs or do they just eat fish?"
"Hot dogs. Every chance they get," Trent assured him. "Now how many hot dogs did you say you wanted?"
"I want two. The monkey show is about to start, let's go. We don't want to miss the beginning," Teddy said, somewhat cheered.
"Did I ever tell you about the time I was in a show? It was a long time ago, of course. When I was young. I was supposed to be the good little fairy on the stage at my high school. My costume was all white and I had wings sticking out of my sides. Well, I hated the idea of being a fairy so I wore red underwear and a devil's mask. Instead of dancing around the stage sweetly I danced around like the devil, hissing, and making scary grins at everyone," Gladys confessed.
"I bet you were good, Auntie Gladys," Teddy complimented.
"So good that I got kicked out of school. That's how good."
"Kicked out? Did they ever let you back in?" Teddy asked.
"Not until I apologized to my teacher and to the principal. Gosh, I wish I had a hot dog," she groaned.
"Trent will get you one. I think I'll have one, too. With everything. Hey, Trent, Mom, Auntie Gladys got kicked out of school. We're ready for our dogs!" Teddy yelled.
"Ditto. Double ditto," I yelled back.
Ditto on life?
The double doors of the Zoo gate closed as Gladys' Honda merged with heavy traffic. A traffic cop, swinging a striped stick, motioned them into the right lane.
"Bummer, I need to be in the left lane," Trent complained.
"You'll never get into it now. How about a change of plans? Instead of going to the aquarium, let's head for the Vancouver Trolley. There's a sunset tour. It leaves Gastown at seven. If we hurry, we can make it in time," Gladys suggested.
"Sounds fine if we can just sit down. My feet are killing me," I said. "I have my shoes off and I may never be able to put them back on."
"I'd like to ride on a trolley. Mom, have I ever been on a trolley in my life?" Teddy asked.
"No, this will be your first time. How do your feet feel? How are those new sandals?"
"Okay. Okay for girl's sandals. So are we going to ride on that trolley?" Teddy said.
"If we can make it in time we are. Gladys, how much farther is it to, what did you call it, Gastown?" Trent questioned.
"Gastown. You'll make it. Speed up a little," Gladys insisted.
"No way. Just because I'm wearing this collar doesn't mean I'm exempt from a speeding ticket. Besides, we don't want the police stopping us for any reason. I don't think I'd make a good priest. Wearing this collar isn't too comfortable. Maybe it's too small?"
Trent said, putting a finger in between the collar and his neck.
"Turn right at the next exit. Then take another right. Gastown is two blocks from there. Public parking. We'll have to walk from there. About three or four blocks," Gladys said, pointing to the upcoming exit.
"I hope I can get my shoes back on. My feet are really swollen," I said.
"We'll have to hurry if we're going to make it by seven o'clock. It's almost seven now. Why don't I let you all off at the gate, park the car and meet you?" Trent offered.
"Trent, your halo is showing. I'm in favor of that idea and my feet second it," I quipped.
"Just don't be late getting aboard the trolley. It will leave without you, Trent," Gladys told him.
"Pen, get our tickets, will you?" Trent asked, handing me a wad of bills as he pulled up in front of the trolley ticket office. "Don't leave without me."
Leave you...
"We didn't leave without you, we didn't leave at all. They won't take American money. Just Canadian. Gladys had some but not enough to pay for all of our tickets. So what now?" I said, as Trent walked toward us.
"Ask Gladys. What now? Is there anything close by that we can do or see?"
"Yes, there's a small museum nearby. If it's still open. It has an antique toy exhibit that Teddy would like. Want to try it?" Gladys offered.
"I do," Teddy said.
"Is everyone agreeable?" Trent asked, looking at each of them.
"All but my aching feet. But then what do they know. Next time I'll leave them at home."
The toy museum had been open and had been free. At eight o'clock Trent told me he thought we should wind it up. He didn't know about everyone else, but he'd had it.
I agreed. Teddy and Gladys bragged that they could go on forever.
"I have leftovers in the refrigerator. Or we can send out for a pizza," Gladys said, as we neared the Gull. "Better stop here, Trent. I see trouble ahead. Stop by Little's Cafe."
"I don't see a thing ahead of us, Gladys. What is it? What do you see?" I asked.
"A car hidden in the bushes. Or rather, the fender of a car. Trent, you and Teddy get out and walk to the Gull. Take the alley, go behind Little's. Pen, take off that hat and fluff your hair out, make yourself look like a girl, and act like a tourist. Like you're a guest of mine. Trent, we'll see you inside. I'll leave the kitchen door ajar for you," Gladys said, getting out of the back seat and sliding behind the wheel of the car.
"When we drive into the driveway, you scrunch back as if you're exhausted. Like you're tired. If anyone approaches us and they ask about you, I'll say you're my new guest. What name should I use and where do you want me to say you're from?"
"I don't care. One name is the same as another. Make up one. Where am I from? How about San Diego?" I replied. "At least I've been there."
"I see Bert Howell. That's his squad car hidden in the bushes with part of his fender sticking out. Wonder what he wants now?" Gladys said, rolling down her window as she slowed the car to a stop. "Hi, Bert, what's going on?"
"Looking for that same guy, that Trent Summit. He's around here somewhere. Now I have a coupla faxes. Larkin handed them out. Here, take a look for yourself," Bert said, handing them to Gladys through her open window. "Who's this?" he asked, looking at me.
"A new guest. Teacher from San Diego. Laura Turnbull. Laura, this is Bert Howell. Bert practically runs the Vancouver police department single-handedly. Oh, Bert, what's all this?" she screamed, holding up the faxes.
"See for yourself. One is about Trent Summit and a woman named Pen Cambridge. This Pen Cambridge may be a hostage of Summit's. Remember, Summit is wanted for murdering his wife. If he's killed once, he could kill again. The other picture is of Summit dressed as a priest, a young boy and a little girl and you, Gladys. What's this all about?"
"I have no idea. You say this priest is that Trent Summit you're looking for? I can't believe it. The young boy and the little girl are brother and sister. You've met them, Bert, they just live down the street by Little's Cafe."
"They do? No, I don't remember them at all. But I see a lot of kids. What are you all doing together? Where were you going?"
"Father O'Malley was taking us all to the zoo for the day. As a special treat for the children. They each did well in their catechism lessons. So you see Father O'Malley isn't this Trent Summit you keep talking about. Bert, just between you and me, is there a Trent Summit? I'm beginning to wonder. How'd you like the Snickerdoodles?"
"I liked them fine, Gladys. Gee, yeah, there is a Trent Summit all right. We'll get him, it's just a matter of time. Have a nice stay, Miss Turnbull," Bert said, tipping his police cap. "And be careful. I don't want to scare you, but be careful."
"Bert, if I see anyone who even resembles this Summit I'll let you know. Oh, and I'll bring you out some of my chocolate chippers. Stay put," Gladys said. "Let's get inside, quick. Pen, you didn't see the faxes. I wished you could have seen it. It's a fax of our Polaroid picture. How would someone get hold of our Polaroid picture? We just took it today, right before we left."
Trent and Teddy were hiding by the kitchen door when Gladys and I arrived.
"What took you so long? I was beginning to worry," Trent said, as we went inside.
"Faxes. Two faxes. Bert Howell showed them to me. One is about you and Pen. The other is a copy of our Polaroid picture we took this morning before we left. It was on the desk," Gladys said, heading for the living room.
Trent didn't need to ask any questions when she returned to the kitchen. Her face told him the picture was gone.
"It's not there. Gone. Someone has taken it. Someone has been inside this house. But how did he get in? I had the doors locked, I always lock the doors. What's that?" she asked, pointing to crumbs on the floor. "Crumbs. Cookie crumbs. Look, they lead right to the living room. Whoever stole the picture also helped himself to cookies."
"Why would a thief take that picture of us? Of all things to steal, that picture certainly isn't the most valuable possession you have, Gladys. Look around you. You have some beautiful antiques, valuable antiques. And eating? Since when do thieves eat? There's a banana peel in the kitchen sink. It wasn't there when we left," I said.
"And now we don't have our picture," Teddy said, making a sad face.
"The thief wasn't after Gladys' valuable possessions. Think about it. Nothing was taken except the picture of us. A few cookies. And a banana. After he stole the picture he faxed a copy to the Vancouver police. The thief knows who I am. Knows I'm wanted for murder in Scottsdale. That's why he faxed the picture to the police. There's more. The thief wanted the police to see me in disguise, see me dressed as a priest. Don't you get it? The thief didn't want to take a chance on the police not recognizing me as a priest. I'm being watched. Someone knows me and is watching me. And whoever it is, hates my guts," Trent spat.
"Maybe it's the same person as the guy who's been trying to kill me. We thought for awhile it was one of Teddy's kidnappers, remember? But I don't think they know where we are, so let's eliminate them from our list of suspects. What about Ton Leo? I haven't forgotten him. I didn't want to think about him. It could be him or one of his henchmen. Am I making any sense at all?"
"Yes, in a round about way, you are. But I think we're at square one. You're right though, it might be Ton Leo or one of his men. I may as well tell you all that I think I should give myself up. We can't continue this cat and mouse game very long. I'm putting you all in jeopardy. Let's face it, the Vancouver police are going to get me sooner or later. They already have a bead on me. That fax of the four us, with me dressed as a priest, isn't going to fool them for very long. Someone is bound to figure it out. And figure out who Pen is. What did you tell your policeman friend about Pen? Who did you tell him she is?" Trent asked Gladys.
"I told him she was my new guest from San Diego. Laura Turnbull. A school teacher," Gladys said.
"I hate to give in, give up. But in addition to the sure-fire fact that the police here are going to get me, I'm worried about the thief. Not so much about the fact that he's a thief but, let's get real, this guy is after Pen. To kill her."
"Mommy, is someone going to kill you?" Teddy sobbed.
"No, no. Trent, you're scaring Teddy," I scolded, shaking my head at Trent.
"He may as well know what's going on, Pen. We can't hide these things from him," Trent warned. But I wasn't so sure. He'd been through enough.
"So if you give yourself up you think this will protect Pen somehow?" Gladys asked.
"I hope so. I don't know. We'll have to return to Scottsdale. Well, the Vancouver police will see to it I'm returned to Scottsdale. Pen and Teddy will return on their own," Trent explained.
"On their own? That sounds like 'alone' to me. No way," Gladys said. "You're not going to go home alone. Wouldn't whoever is after you just love that. No, you can't travel alone. I'll go with you. With Gladys on the job no killer in or out of his right mind would try to get near the two of you. And when you are home you'll need me to take care of Teddy. You'll have to go back and forth to the jail. And help Trent with his case. And keep an eye on you, Pen."
"Trent is going to jail?" Teddy asked, wide-eyed.
"I may have to. The police think I murdered someone. My wife. I didn't, Teddy. Believe me, I didn't. Gladys, you're right. Pen and Teddy can't go home alone. And they'll certainly need you once we get back to Scottsdale. But what about you? What about the Gull?" Trent wondered.
"I can close this place any time I want to. You're the only guests I have. And I don't expect any more. There is one thing though, Trent. I have a favor to ask of you," Gladys said.
"Anything, Gladys, anything," Trent replied. "I have a favor to ask of you. I borrowed a permit from a vendor named Simon. He calls himself Simon, Simple Simon. That isn't his real name, he just calls himself that. I borrowed his permit. Could you see that he gets it back?"
"When you say 'borrowed' are you talking about the same 'borrowed' as in my phone book? I know Simon. Sure, no problem, I'll see that he gets his permit back. It's way out of date, you know. Doesn't mean a thing. But the police don't bother him. My favor is for you to turn yourself into Bert Howell. He's a good friend of mine. A good cop, too. As long as you're turning yourself in, it might as well be to Bert. It will help his career. Help him get a promotion," Gladys explained.
"Sure, I understand. Is he still outside? I can turn myself over to him right now," Trent offered.
"Could we have pizza first? As a family?" Teddy asked.
"I'll order the pizza. Then I'll ask Bert in. He can join us. His dessert will be you -- you turning yourself in. A little different than my cookies or homemade pie. Speaking of pie, Pen, get out my big Pyrex bowl and large saucepan. I'll whip us up a lemon pie..."
"Could you make something else besides lemon? My life is going sour enough, Gladys," Trent spoke up, flashing a grin.
"Nope. It's going to be a lemon pie. What is it they say? 'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade'? Something like that. Let's see, Barney's Pizza's phone number is 423-0427. We want three sixteen-inchers with everything but anchovies," Gladys said, as she dialed the phone. "Pen, what are you doing?"
"I'm starting to make your pie crust recipe. You promised you'd teach me how to cook, remember? I may want to take a pie to Trent when he's in jail. A pie with a get-out-of-jail saw in it. A man who's charged with murder needs a pie like that. I know I would. Not that I've killed anyone, but I have thought of it from time to time."
Thought of...
Larry Larkin's wife was giving him a surprise party. The two things he must not do was to be early or to be late. Timing was everything. Bert Howell had phoned in a few minutes ago with something about hanging around, not leaving. He'd agreed with Bert, right now he'd agree with anyone, but he was outa here. First though, he better clean up his desk. He hated to come to work and find his desk a mess. It started his whole day wrong.
"Larry! I have him! I have that murderer from Arizona!" Bert said as he walked in the office.
"Are you kidding me? Come on, Bert, give me a break. How would you have that guy? Are you talking about the Arizona wife murderer?" Larkin asked, after he took a look at Bert's face.
"Yeah, that's the one. Summit. Trent Summit. He killed his wife in Scottsdale, the capital of Arizona. I have him in custody. He turned himself in to me."
"Now I know you're kidding me. First of all, Scottsdale isn't the capital of Arizona. It's Phoenix. Or is it Prescott? Begins with a P. Turned himself into you? Summit, the guy we've been tracking, has turned himself into you? Tell me another."
"Stand right there. Do not move," Bert ordered. "I'll be right back. I have someone in my squad car that I'd like to show you."
"The tooth fairy?" Larkin suggested with a sneer.
"Bite your tongue, Larkin, and take a good look. Meet Trent Summit," Bert said, giving Trent a shove through Larkin's door.
Behind him stood Gladys, Teddy and me.
"Gladys, what are you doing here? Bert, what's going on? Why is Gladys here? And who are these people?" Larkin asked.
"Summit was holding them as hostages at the Gull. Isn't this true, Summit?"
Trent didn't reply.
"Summit, I asked you a question. You were holding Gladys Gooch and these two guests as hostages, weren't you?" Bert asked.
Trent still didn't reply.
"Bert, I thought you said he turned himself in to you. What's going on here? This guy won't say a word!" Larkin fumed.
"Okay, Summit, make it hard on yourself. Larkin and I are willing to go along with you. You turned yourself in to me. Right?"
Trent said nothing.
"Damnit, Bert. What did he say to you? Tell me everything he's said to you. From word one," Larkin insisted.
"Come to think of it, Summit hasn't said anything. He hasn't even spoken to me. Gladys asked me in for pizza. Barney's, it was real good, too. No beer though. Gladys won't serve it. I didn't know anyone. Summit here was dressed like a priest but he isn't a priest at all. Never was a priest. Not even a Catholic. That's what Gladys told me.
"Gladys said he was planning to wear it for Halloween and was getting used to it. It wasn't until after we ate that I learned his name. Gladys said she wanted to introduce me to Trent Summit from Arizona. She said the name a coupla times. Then it hit me. It was the Trent Summit we've been looking for. I called you and here we are."
"So Summit hasn't said anything to you? Not one word?" Larkin asked.
"Not one word," Bert assured him.
"He's from the United States. Miranda. We don't have Miranda here but maybe we should read him some rights. You've heard the drill, Bert. You know the drill. And so does Summit. Anything he says, no matter how trivial, anything, can be used against him later. He's smart. As a tack. He isn't saying one thing, not one word. So the way you knew he was turning himself into you was just Gladys's introduction? He probably forced Gladys to do this. To let him give himself up but not utter a sound. Well, Bert, this will certainly be a feather in your cap. You'll get a citation for it. Your wife will be real, real proud! Your wife! My wife! My surprise party. What time is it?" Larkin yelled, checking his watch. "Oh, am I in trouble. I'm late for my own surprise party."
"Go ahead home, Larry. I can do the paper work on Summit," Bert said.
"Go home? I don't dare. I'm safer right here. Bert, you'll cover for me about your bringing Summit in now, at this time. Timing is everything," Larkin murmured.
"Want me to call Scottsdale? Or should I fax this?" Bert asked.
"I'll call. Put Summit in a cell. Better cuff him. Doesn't he have cuffs on? You mean to tell me you didn't cuff him?" Larkin raged.
Bert looked sheepish, "I sort of hated to in front of the little boy. Really scares little kids to see someone in handcuffs. Besides, Summit isn't violent. Gladys said he wouldn't be, didn't you Glad?"
"He isn't the violent type, Bert," Gladys said. "And I don't think he murdered his wife or anyone. He's not the type. He's been my guest at the Gull, and a nice one, too. So it's all a mistake. You'll find out. But for now he's a wanted man. Poor soul. Wanted. You might as well get the credit for bringing him in. Someone was going to get it. It might as well be you, Bert. Bert, will you do me a favor? A big favor?"
"Sure, Gladys, ask me. I'll do anything for you," Bert told her.
"Watch the Gull for me, will you?"
"Watch the Gull? Why? Aren't you going to be there?"
"No, I won't. I'm leaving. I don't know how long I'll be away."
"Away? Gladys, you never go away. Where are you going?"
"To Scottsdale, Arizona. With Pen and Teddy. And Trent Summit. I'm going to take care of Teddy while Pen goes back and forth to see Trent in jail. And I'm going to teach Pen how to cook."
"Have you lost your mind, Gladys Gooch? Have you lost your mind?"
"Yes, and my heart along with it."
Pacific West flight 840 had troubles enough without 'technical difficulties'. A passenger on a flight last week had brought his pet squirrel aboard hidden inside a carryon. How it managed to get through security was a mystery. About an hour into the flight the squirrel wiggled out of the bag, ran up and down the aisles, onto and into laps, screeching loudly but not as loudly as the screams and yells from everyone aboard. Finally someone had the good sense to scatter open packages of peanuts in the middle of the aisle and order people to sit tight, shut up and stay still. Pesky calmed down for the feast, the pilot threw a blanket over him, zipped him inside the carry-on.
A few days ago 840 had blown a tire while lined up for take-off. Now 'technical difficulties'...the electrical system. The seat belt signs flickered, went off, flickered again, then nothing. A tall, buxom flight attendant had announced that no one was to worry, this was not a serious problem. The repair crew would arrive momentarily. There would be a slight delay but the pilot would make up the time because of favorable wind conditions. Snacks and beverages would be served immediately after they were airborne. No one would be allowed to use the bathrooms at this time. Please remain seated. And thank-you for flying Pacific West.
I leaned out from my first class seat hoping I'd catch a glimpse of Trent.
Trent, row 12, window seat, in coach, was completely hidden from me. Seated on the aisle and handcuffed to him was his police escort, Olaf Swensen. Olaf hated to fly and usually got air-sick. But this was a freebie flight to Phoenix, Arizona, and he had a sister living there. Actually, his sister lived in a town called Mesa. Once he'd delivered Summit, Olaf would have a day off before he had to return to Vancouver. Seeing his sister and a little of Arizona was worth the barf bag. That is, if they ever took off. He hoped this delay wouldn't eat into time with his sister. What really worried him was the meeting with some guy named Crane. He sounded weird on the phone. A real big ego-type that required handling with kid gloves.
The handcuff attached to Olaf Swensen bit into Trent's wrist every time Swensen moved. It was obvious to Trent that his jailer was no frequent flyer. The guy was so nervous he couldn't sit still. Trent wished he were sitting in an aisle seat. It would have been more comfortable and he might have been able to see Pen in the first class section. Pen was taking this all rather well. She was making an effort to be brave, partly for him, partly for herself, but mostly for Teddy. He was very upset that because Trent was handcuffed and that they couldn't all sit together. For a little kid he'd been through a lot. And Pen, she was one helluva woman.
Teddy and Gladys, seated next to me, were coloring pictures in a book I'd had bought at a store in the Vancouver International Airport.
"Mommy, do you want to color with us? Mommy, when are we going? When is the plane going?" Teddy said. "Are the lights going to be on or off?"
"Yes, I'll color. The plane will be leaving soon. The lights will be on. Hand me a page from your book, Teddy. And some crayons."
"When that lady lets us get up, I'm going to take some crayons and a page from my book to Trent. Wouldn't that be okay, Mommy?" Teddy asked.
"That would be great. Trent will just love it, won't he, Gladys?"
"You bet. Just what every man handcuffed to another loves. Ah, I hear engines starting up. I think we're ready to go," Gladys said, as she began clapping.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. Pacific West 840 is now ready for take off. Fasten your seat belts, put your tray tables in place, your seats upright. No smoking," the flight attendant issued.
As the plane lifted then leveled off a sigh from passengers swept over the plane. In a few hours flight 840 would touch down at Phoenix Sky Harbor.
"Here we go. Guess luck is with us," Olaf remarked, removing a barf bag from its elastized holder. "Better for me to have this ready than to try to grab it in time. I never really know if I'll need it, Mr. Summit. I hope I don't have to use this."
'Scottsdale TV channel 12 was first in news, first in...Sidney Stewart broke into Rosie's talk show: 'Pacific West flight 840 bound from Vancouver to Phoenix has been lost to radar and is feared down at some point north east of us. Rescue crews, helicopters, ambulances and a number of police vehicles are standing by now, waiting for information that will alert them to 840's location. On board is Trent Summit. Summit, as many of you know, is said to have killed his wife, Ashley, a year ago in their Paradise Valley home. Summit is said to have been hiding in Vancouver and has held two Scottsdale residents hostage. The hostages were Penelope Cambridge and her five-year-old son, Teddy. Details concerning flight 840 are sketchy at this time. Stay tuned for further developments.'
Business in Wickenburg had been brisk. Tourism had returned and the townspeople were offering western events which included riding, roping, rodeo shows, cow and goat milking. Silversmiths were making belt buckles. The Vulture Gold Mine had re-opened and allowed panning for gold for the first time in several years. People on their way to or coming from Tucson, Phoenix, the Grand Canyon, even Lake Havasu, were anxious to try their luck.
Every Wickenburg shop and eatery felt the financial benefits, including Annie's Forever.
Annie enjoyed the money but most of all she enjoyed the people. She'd seated a family of seven and had taken their order when a news bulletin flashed on the small TV she had perched above the counter. Something about a plane crash. Right here in Arizona. One of those big planes, a Pacific West that flew from Vancouver, headed for Phoenix. The reason for the crash was not officially known but terrorism hadn't been ruled out. There were two hundred twenty seven passengers. Ten crew members.
"Would you mind turning the sound up a little?" someone asked.
Just as Annie reached up to the volume control faces of passengers of flight 840 were shown on the TV screen. There in front of her, close enough for her to touch, were the faces of the man and woman who'd come to her place asking about their little boy, the little boy whose face was on the t-shirt. The same little boy who was with that couple from Vancouver. What was the announcer saying? Something about survivors.
"You folks will have to cook for yourselves. Clean up and lock the place when you leave. I have important telephone calls to make. That plane crash? I think special friends of mine were aboard that plane. I need to find out if there are survivors and where they were taken," Annie said, untying her apron strings.
"Hey, what about our order?" someone hollered.
"I can help with the telephone calls. I have a cellular phone," one man offered, reaching in his pocket and bringing it out.
"Mine is my car. I'll go get it," a young woman said. "With three of us calling we should be able to locate your friends. What did you say their names are?"
"Summit. Trent Summit. Cambridge. Pen Cambridge. There might be a little boy too. Tony. No, not Tony. Teddy. Teddy Cambridge," Annie said.
"Listen up. More news," someone yelled.
"This is Sidney Stewart for Channel twelve with a bulletin concerning Pacific West flight 840. One moment please." There was a deadly pause. Channel twelve blacked out. Then: "There are survivors! I repeat, survivors! Taken to Scottsdale North are: William Becket. Eleanor Browning. Charles Devone. Norma Roberts. No, not Roberts. Robertson. Trent Summit. Hold on, I've just been given additional names for Scottsdale North...Penelope Cambridge. Teddy Cambridge. Gladys Gooch. Cass Hinckley. Survivors taken to..." Annie had snapped off TV.
"I'm on my way. Thanks for your help. Oh, somebody hang 'Closed' on the door as you leave, will you?"
Scottsdale North had recently undergone extensive remodeling. While the interior had been completed there were still major problems with the parking lots. The bulldozers had hit caliche rock, rock so hard it was like hitting mile- deep marble. Even with their expertise, many of the workmen weren't able to penetrate its walls. And when they did, they'd experience elephant-sized boulders wedged deeply into the soil.
The dozens of ambulances and rescue vans were having a difficult time getting near North's emergency doors. They were forced to park one block, even two, from the entrance. Carrying their victims from this far away took time -- precious time. Some of the most critically injured were taken by helicopter to North's helio roof pad. It was a small area, one that could handle only two choppers at a time. Each chopper was set up to bring in two victims.
The rescue squads were opting to take some of the injured to Mayo's East, only a few miles from Scottsdale North. Many of those on flight 840 had all ready been transferred to Scottsdale Osborne, even farther away.
Dr Ward Richt stood on North's rooftop watching a helicopter land. Those chopper pilots were heroes. If he weren't a doctor he'd be a chopper pilot. "What have you got for me?"
"A man. In his twenties. Has a handcuff stuck in his chest. Yeah, that's what I said. A handcuff stuck in his chest. It may have punctured his heart."
Ward said, "I'm ready for him. Bring him to seven."
"Doctor, seven is all ready set up for a triple by-pass," a nurse reminded him.
"Can we move the triple to any other room?" Ward asked.
"We don't have time, doctor. Our triple has a time factor with refusal for a code blue. Eight is available for your patient. I've assisted in a deeply imbedded scissors case. May be similar. I can work with you on this if you need me."
"I do. What's your name?" Ward asked, without looking at her.
"Thompson. Jane."
"Did you get the patient's name?"
"Summit. He's the guy they say murdered his wife. Brought back from Vancouver to stand trial. Handcuffed. He was handcuffed to a policeman. One handcuff on each."
"So where is he? Where's the policeman? The other handcuff?" Ward asked. "Is he injured?"
"No, doctor. He's dead."
"We save this Summit guy so he can be tried for murdering his wife," Ward said to Jane Thompson.
"Is that in the Hippocratic Oath, Doctor?" Jane murmured.
"Got me." Ward replied. "But he murdered his wife. Murder is murder and we don't want Summit to slip through the system."
Channel twelve's Sidney Stewart squirmed in a chair and pulled a hospital blanket over herself. She was freezing. Why were hospitals so cold? Did someone think by keeping them germs this cold the little critters would die? They wouldn't dare. They'd been admitted without insurance. She'd been told no news would be given out at this time. All reporters were to remain in the visitors' waiting room. Lucky her, she'd found a blanket and a chair. Every bone in Sid's body ached as she stood up. Cafeteria coffee wouldn't help the aches but it might help her disposition.
Sitting in the cafeteria were Peters from channel ten and from channel three, Lindsay somebody. She was new and Sid couldn't remember her last name. Sid loved her job but not other reporters. It was dog eat dog, kill or be killed, just get the story. Steal, borrow or beg. And the facts needn't be letter perfect or absolutely right. There could always be a retraction.
Peters waved her over. "Long night? Me, too. We couldn't even get near the visitors' room. It's packed with newspeople. Horrific crash. I heard it might have been a bomb. What have you heard? Oh, do you know Lindsay Donahue? Lindsay's from Toronto."
"Sidney Stewart. Yes, long night. Yes, I heard it might have been a bomb. How's the coffee?"
"Almost. Almost fresh, almost hot. I wonder if any more survivors have been brought in?" Peters fished.
Sid shrugged. "I haven't any idea. You're right about the coffee. Almost. That's how we news people get our coffee. I should go to decaf, but I never will. See you, Lindsay," she said, walking away. Same old seven and sixes, nobody knew anything. Her best bet was to wander around the hospital and ask questions. Hospital employees were usually willing to answer questions, especially if they thought they might see themselves on TV. Hospital personnel were another story. They dreaded having to answer questions for fear they'd say something they shouldn't and add to the confusion or lawsuits. So far all Sid had been able to get was that Pacific West flight 840 had crashed northeast of Scottsdale. There were two-hundred-twenty-seven passengers and ten crewmembers. This could be right or it could be wrong. An unknown number of passengers, survivors, had been brought to North. No one knew the exact count. It was too early to believe anything. Maybe Admitting would know something.
"Any news about that airline crash, that Pacific West 840?" she asked a middle aged woman standing behind a desk.
"Are you a relative of someone on the plane?"
"No, I'm not. I'm from channel twelve. Sidney Stewart."
"I think you're supposed to be in the visitors' waiting room."
"I know it. I was up there. But I haven't heard a word about the crash. And it's freezing, that room is freezing."
"Sidney Stewart from channel twelve? Didn't I see you doing a piece on women and divorce? How we women get the shaft?"
"Yes, that was me," Sid said.
"I was in the middle of a divorce during that piece. Well, I can tell you, you helped me a lot. I learned from you, Miss Stewart. You saved me money on my attorney's fees and I got more alimony. I'm no spring chicken. I need every penny that my ex sends me. So what is it you want to know about the airline crash?"
"How many survivors? The last time I heard there were nine. And one of them was that suspected murderer, Trent Summit. Have any more of 840's victims been brought in? And what condition are they in?" Sid asked, allowing the excitement to show in her voice.
"We're getting more and more. I don't know how many. It's always hard to tell in a case like this. Tell you what, I can give you a written pass that will allow you freedom of the hospital. That way you can find out for yourself what's going on with the crash. The reason I'm doing this for you is because of what you did for us women. Women, divorce and the shaft."
"Are you sure? You won't get into any trouble, will you?"
"In case someone stops you, I'll give you a badge and a pass. Take that freight elevator up to the waiting room of surgery. You'll find out a lot about the victims up there. Here's your badge and your pass. Don't tell anyone I gave you this. My name's Shirley, by the way."
Sid was relieved that the freight elevator was empty. Shirley was confident that the written pass and the badge she'd given Sid would allow her into the inner sanctum, the visitor's waiting room of surgery of Scottsdale North. But Sid knew she didn't belong there. That room was for the families. Still, the pass and badge were valid. She might as well take advantage of them.
The room was crowded, standing room only. Some people were sitting with their hands in their faces. Others were simply staring into space. One or two looked up as Sid came into the room but said nothing. Many were sobbing. Sid walked to a far corner of the room and leaned against a wall just as several doctors and nurses entered.
"To all of you, we at Scottsdale North offer our support. I have a list of victims from the crash who are our patients, and their condition as of now. I have assigned a nurse to each family. Please raise your hand when I call the name of your family member." One by one, names were called, their condition given, an assigned nurse escorted them away.
No one responded to the names Trent Summit, Pen and Teddy Cambridge, Gladys Gooch, or Cass Hinckley.
One of the doctors approached Sid. "If your family member isn't here at North, he or she may be at Osborn or at Mayo's," he offered.
"You didn't read the condition of Summit. Or the Cambridges. Or Gooch. Or Hinckley," Sid told him.
"Summit is here, doing as well as can be expected. So are the Cambridges. The woman is badly bruised. The little boy is fine. Gooch? Broken arm. Hinckley, bruises and a slight head wound. Who are you? Are all these people relatives of yours?" the doctor wanted to know.
Sid lowered her head and whispered something inaudible as she hurried from the room.
"Don't you want a nurse?" the doctor asked.
Shaking her head, Sid continued walking until she reached the freight elevator. Once inside she whipped out a notebook and pen: 'No one claims five Northwest crash survivors at Scottsdale North. Five not claimed. And one of them is suspected murderer Trent Summit!'
I went from room to room searching for Trent. A nurse touched my shoulder, motioning me to follow her.
"What are you doing here? Visitor's hours are over," she whispered.
"Yes, I know. I'm a patient here myself. I was in that plane crash. Pacific West 840. Trent Summit. He's here in your intensive care unit. I want to see him," I whispered back.
"Are you a relative? You'll have to come back during visiting hours."
"Now. I want to see him now. Tell me his condition. I want to hear it from you. All I know is what I've heard from your hospital grapevine and television. They said he's in a coma. That his chest was pierced with a handcuff, close to his heart. A heart specialist was brought in. Tell me, please tell me how Trent is."
"I'm sorry. You'll have to leave. Don't make me call security."
"Leave? Would you leave? If someone you loved was here -- alone, badly injured, would you leave? Would you, could you, wait until visitor's hours? Or haven't you ever loved anyone? Loved someone so much you sometimes hurt inside with the joy of loving that person? Loved his smile, his laugh. The way he holds his head when he's talking to you? Loved so many little things about him, little things like how he opens the newspaper and takes out the sports section first thing. Or how he kicks off his shoes the minute he comes home. Loved the excitement in his voice when he wants to make love? Haven't you ever loved anyone? I have to see Trent. I have to touch him, hold him. What if he dies?"
The nurse rolled her eye, and then said, "Follow me and please, be very quiet. I'll let you see Mr. Summit. But only for a few minutes. Do you understand? Appears he's in a coma. We haven't been able to awaken him. He's had surgery to remove the handcuff. His condition is..." the nurse's whisper grew hoarse.
Death and Trent were holding hands. His face, a waxen grey, wore a tight mask. I pressed my lips on his, lips once warm, were now ice.
"It's Pen. Penelope. You have to wake up, Trent. What a sleepy-head you are. It's time to wake up. Have I told you how much I love you? I do love you. I never stopped loving you. I only married Steve because you told me you didn't want children. I was pregnant with our son. Pregnant. And scared. I met Steve, he said he wanted children. I went to bed with him. I lied. I told him the baby, our baby, was his.
"All these years I've hated you. When Teddy was killed in that explosion I wanted to kill you. If you had wanted children, we would have married. Our son would have been safe. Safe from the warehouse, the explosion. When I called you, asked you to help me with the business I had a plan. I knew about a Buy and Sell Agreement. I was certain you knew about it. I had a plan. To kill you. Collect the insurance. Compensation for what you'd done. To me. To Teddy. For Teddy dying. Then we met Annie. She said Teddy was alive. You were wonderful about finding him, if it hadn't been for you I'd never have found him.
"I fell in love with you all over again. Little by little. I love so many things about you. Have I thanked you for finding Teddy? Have I told you how much I appreciate your taking care of us? How great you are with him? How much fun you are? How much I love fighting with you? How I want you, even with all my cuts and bruises, I want you? I've never stopped wanting you. I need you. Teddy needs you. You have to wake up, Trent..."
The nurse had approached. "You're out of time. And you're making too much noise. You can come back at the regular visitor's when..." She stopped. "Mr. Summit! You're eyes are open. You're awake! Do you know where you are?"
Trent's voice was barely audible, "No."
"You're in a hospital. In Scottsdale. You were in a plane crash. Do you remember being in a plane crash?"
"No."
"Can you tell me what I just said?" the nurse asked.
"Hospital. Plane crash." Trent repeated.
"I'll phone your doctor, he'll want to hear such good news. Miss, you really do have to leave. Come back tomorrow, there is a tomorrow."
There is a tomorrow...
Teddy, Gladys and I spent three days in Scottsdale North. None of us were seriously injured but our doctors insisted we remain for observation. Pacific West was footing the bills -- they didn't want any repercussions. There were repercussions enough. Of the two-hundred-twenty-seven passengers, three had been killed. Many had suffered serious but not life threatening injuries. Some had only cuts and bruises. All of the crew had survived. Investigators were combing the wreckage for any clues that would point to the reason the plane crashed. Mechanical failure, that old stand-by reason for a plane crash, was what probably caused the plane to go down, the airline's representative claimed. The black box had been retrieved with the voices of the pilot and Sky Harbor tower talking about the lights, there'd been a delay in landing because of the lights going off and on.
A few minutes before landing at Sky Harbor all the lights on 840 had gone out, the plane lost power, altitude, and began to nose dive. As suddenly as the power was lost, it was restored. The pilot was able to land in a field north east of the airport, only a few miles from Scottsdale North. Sabotage couldn't be completely ruled out. Maybe someone had tinkered with the lights? Security had been tight, especially since that Concorde crash. But what about the ground crew, maintenance, the men and women who serviced the plane with supplies, food, beverages, paper products? Even Pacific West's own magazine? Explosives were easy to place, easy to detonate. What seemed impossible a year or so ago was now child's play. If a person didn't know anything about explosives all he or she had to do was listen to the announcers on TV.
Trent's condition had been upgraded but he was still in ICU. His cardiologist, brilliant internationally-known Carl Clayton, had traveled from Arizona Heart in greater Phoenix daily to check on Trent. Trent would have been Clayton's and Arizona Heart's patient if the crash had not happened so close to Scottsdale North. Most of the handcuff, dangerously close to Trent's heart, had been removed. A few pieces remained and were a threat. The pieces were abstractly lodged, difficult, if not impossible, to excise. Clayton determined tissue would grow around these pieces eventually, holding them intact. Monitors watched for infections, any serious developments.
One at a time, we visited Trent. Teddy wasn't allowed.
"I don't see why kids can't go in. I want to see Trent just as much as you do," he argued.
"I agree, Teddy. But rules are rules and neither Auntie Gladys or I make them." Yeah, right. I've been breaking them for days. "Besides, in a few days Trent will be moved from ICU to his own private room and you can see him then."
"How are we going to get home? You said Trent's car, his, what did you call it, Mom? His car is too small for the three of us. So how are we going to get home?" Teddy asked.
"Porsche. It is too small for the three of us. I'm going to have to rent something, I'm afraid. Home. Won't it be nice to go home, Teddy? You haven't been home for such a long time. Your room is just as you left it."
"All but my Tony. He's gone. I wish now I'd left him at home. He'd still have both of his eyes and he'd be safe. Is Auntie Gladys going to stay with us?"
"You bet I am, Teddy. Even with only one arm I can...say, who's that woman? The one coming at you, Pen, like a bull out of a china shop?"
A tall, square woman with high, back-combed hair the color of flame waved frantically screaming at the top of her voice. "I finally caught up with you, Mrs. Cambridge! Been trying for days, ever since I heard about that airline crash. But the hospital wouldn't allow me to see you. I told them I was 'family' but they didn't believe me. Don't you remember me? I'm Annie. Annie's Forever. From Wickenburg. And this is Teddy. See, I told you he was alive. So you found him!"
"Annie. What on earth are you doing here? Gladys, this is the Annie I've told you about. Teddy, this is the woman who saw you with Jeff and Muriel and the one who recognized your picture on the t-shirt Trent was wearing. If it hadn't been for Annie we never would have known you were alive or that you'd been kidnapped and taken to Vancouver. Gladys Gooch, this is Annie Forever. Annie, you've already met Teddy."
"Yes, I'm the one. I saw you on TV, your pictures. I've closed Forever and come down here to help you. How's your husband? How's he doing? Or whoever he is. The newspapers and TV said he had a handcuff pierce his chest, was in a coma, and was doing as well as can be expected. And that he's wanted for murder. How about you and Teddy? I can see that Gladys here has a broken arm."
"Both Teddy and I were lucky. We've come out of this fine, except for the mental trauma. This isn't something a person ever gets over. I don't know if I'll ever be able to fly again. Gladys was lucky, too. Trent's doing very well, considering. He's still in ICU but we expect him to be moved to a private room," I said.
"And then I can visit him," Teddy exclaimed.
"What about this murder stuff?" Annie wanted to know.
"Trent's accused of killing his wife, Ashley. He didn't, of course he didn't. It will all be straightened out now that we're back in Scottsdale."
"I've here for the duration. I plan to stay as long as you need me. I can take care of Teddy, cook, whatever you need."
"I'll be taking care of Teddy. And doing the cooking and everything else," Gladys spoke up.
"And just how do you think you're going to be able to cook with your broken arm? It's your right arm. I suppose you're right-handed. Tell us how you think you're going to be able to cook?" Annie asked Gladys.
"As a matter of fact I am right-handed but a broken right arm is no big deal. I can cook any time," Gladys warned.
"And drive? You can't drive. I can cook, drive, well, you name it and I can do it. Listen, a friend of mine, Maudie, had a broken arm and she couldn't do diddly. She couldn't even put on her own shoes. Or get dressed. I went over to her house two, three times a day. Then I brought her to my place. She stayed nine weeks. So don't try to tell me about a broken arm," Annie warned back.
For a woman who had been alone for six years, suddenly I had become worth fighting over. I loved it.
"Why don't you both take care of me? And both of you cook? Auntie Gladys, you can be my Auntie and Annie, you can be my Grammy," Teddy suggested.
"I'd rather be the Grammy," Gladys said.
"No, I saw Teddy first. I should be the Grammy," Annie insisted.
"Take turns, take turns. Haven't you ever watched Barney on TV?" Teddy said.
"Barney? He's our pizza man in Vancouver," Gladys said.
"See. What do you know about little kids?" Annie blasted.
"I haven't even said you could stay, Annie. Oh, I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Of course you can stay. Having both of you will be wonderful, that is, if you don't kill each other first. We'll unravel who's who later. Actually, you could both be the Grammy. And the Aunts. I have to get a cab to take me to Sky Harbor so I can pick up Trent's car."
"Cab? You won't need a cab with me on the job. I'll drive you to Sky Harbor. You can all ride with me. I have a Cherokee. Silver. And two hands," Annie bragged.
"So I'm to ride with an Indian," Gladys blurted.
"Not with an Indian. In an Indian," I giggled.
"Same thing. What can I expect now that I'm in Arizona -- the wild, wild west?" Gladys complained.
"You can go back to the Gull and make cookies and pies for everyone," Teddy suggested.
"Or stay here and be scalped," Annie said.
"Think of an Indian name for me," Gladys demanded.
"How about 'Gladys-One-Arm'?" Annie said.
"Will you two behave yourselves? Look, there's a coupla policemen getting on the elevator. I wonder what's going on?" I said.
"Probably just visiting someone," Gladys offered.
"I'll be happy when Trent gets moved to his own room. Then I can visit too," Teddy clamored.
"Yes, once Trent has his own private room you can visit him, Teddy," I agreed.
But he couldn't. Trent had been officially arrested for murder. Armed policemen would stand guard outside Trent's room. Visitors under the age of sixteen were not allowed inside.
"Let's go get Trent's car. I'll call his law office to tell them it won't be necessary for anyone to help me. Where'd you park, Annie?" I asked.
"About a block away. The parking lot is under construction so I had to park a block away. How do you all feel? Can you walk or should I try to come back for you? What about you, Gladys?" Annie asked as we walked toward the Shea Boulevard side of Scottsdale North.
"I can walk. It's not my legs that are broken. Say, there must be something going on! Look outside at all the people," Gladys said.
As Annie pushed the door open a throng mobbed them. 'Give us your story. How did it feel to go down? Did you know you were going to crash? Was there any warning? Do you think it was sabotage? What are your feelings about being one of the survivors? Will this change your life?'
Sid Stewart had pushed her way to the front of the reporters. "Give me an exclusive and I can promise you honest coverage. Channel twelve. Sidney Stewart, here. Shoot!" she exclaimed, motioning to her photographer. "Shoot, Jim, shoot!"
"Maybe there's a back way out," I said to Annie, Gladys and Teddy. "Pivot around and we'll make a run towards the back."
The media was quicker and more experienced. They blocked any getaway.
"Follow me to my car as best you can. And don't answer any questions. Not for free. Talk shows will pay plenty to interview you. Move it, buster, move it, can't you see you're on the losing end? Get too close and I'll smack you with my purse," Annie warned as the media closed in.
"And I may be one armed but I'll smack you with my purse. So move it," Gladys yelled. "Move it."
"For a one-armed lady, you're not half-bad, Glad," Annie complimented.
"Who said I was a lady?"
"Mommy, I'm afraid. I don't like all these people pushing me. I can't breathe. They're going to run over me, Mommy," Teddy cried.
I took Teddy in my arms, lifted him high. "Hang on, we're almost to Gram Annie's car. Then we'll be safe. Just hang on, Teddy."
Pushing, shoving, we made our way to Annie's Cherokee.
"Get in, quick. And lock your doors," Annie ordered. "I may have to run over a few news people to get out of here. Now, where to? Where's your house, Pen?"
"South and east of here. Turn right. Take Shea to the Beeline. My house is about forty miles. In the boonies. Look behind us. The media is following."
"Pull over and stop," Gladys said, opening her purse with her one good hand, the fingers poking out from her cast.
"What's that?" I asked, as Gladys got out of the car and reached for the roof.
"One of my Vancouver police friends gave it me. It's a red flashing light. Fits by suction right on the top of the car. Really does the job scaring people away. They think you're the police."
"Is it legal?"
"Who cares? It sure does the job. See, look behind us. The media isn't following. They've backed off. Teddy, are you okay? I was worried about you," Gladys offered.
"I know what I want for Christmas. One of those flasher lights," he exclaimed.
"I think I'll ask Santa for one, too," Annie said.
"Include me, I'm the mother. Oh, look behind us. It's a flashing light. I think it's the police. On a motorcycle."
"Let me do all the talking. I know how to deal with the police. I do it all the time in Vancouver," Gladys reported.
The fine was two-hundred dollars. And a visit to the court. And driving lessons.
"I don't think much of your American ticket system," Gladys griped. "In Vancouver all it would have cost would be cookies or pie," Gladys complained, putting the flasher in the glove compartment. "You Americans certainly have a strange justice system."
Matt O'Hara shielded his eyes with his hand. In the distance he thought he saw what appeared to be a silver bullet headed towards them.
"Tim, come out here and take a look," Matt called to his younger brother.
"Yeah, what is that? Maybe it's one of the Lone Ranger's bullets headed our way. It's a car, a silver car. I hope it's not bad news about Pen or Teddy. Or Trent. Maybe someone is coming out to tell us bad news. The FBI or CIA or airline reps."
"It might be the Scottsdale police."
"The Scottsdale police? Driving a Cherokee? Since when?" Tim questioned.
"On a special assignment. Maybe they're using silver cars for special assignments?"
They'd know soon enough. Annie's Cherokee was pulling up in front of the house.
Annie got out first and helped Gladys with her seat belt. The drive had lulled Teddy asleep. I started to lift him to carry him into the house but Tim was motioning for me to give Teddy to him.
Whispering, Tim started to ask me questions but stopped short. Conversation might awaken Teddy. All this could wait.
Matt stood by the door, holding it open for Tim as he carried Teddy to his bedroom and placed him on his bed.
I was shaking as I removed Teddy's shoes. Eons ago I'd sat on this bed waiting for Trent. Eons ago we'd left for Vancouver to find Teddy. Now he was in his bed, asleep. Safe. I wanted to cry, cry for all that had happened. There was plenty of time for tears. The time now was for joy.
Gladys and Annie had introduced themselves to the O'Hara brothers. Annie had started a pot of coffee. The four of them were all talking at once.
"I see you've all met one another. I don't know where to start. Matt, Tim, tell me what's been going on here."
"We tried to visit you at the hospital but couldn't get in. Only family. You look fine, Teddy looks fine. You were sure lucky. All of you were except Trent. How's he doing?" Matt asked. "Cambridge is doing great. Really great."
"Good. I knew it would with the two of you taking care of it. It was touch and go there for awhile. He was in a coma. He's out of it now. The handcuff has been removed, well, not all of it. There are fragments as I understand it, still in him. He'll wear a beeper thing to monitor them. I've spoken to him -- he's alert. Still in ICU. But in a few days he'll be moved to a private room."
"I'm not sure about visiting him, Pen. I'm not sure I want to. He's wanted for the murder of his wife, isn't he? I mean, after all, the guy is a killer," Tim said.
"He isn't a killer. I know him. He couldn't kill a fly. All of this about his killing Ashley is a mistake. Trust me on this, I know Trent isn't a killer," I said. "He hasn't even been arrested. The police haven't arrested him because deep in their hearts they know he isn't guilty."
Tim spoke up, "That isn't what the news reported. Just before you came there was bulletin on TV. Trent's been arrested. He's under guard at the hospital. The warrant for his arrest was for the murder of his wife Ashley. She died over a year ago."
"He couldn't kill anyone, wouldn't kill anyone. Where's the proof?"
"The Scottsdale police really know their job. Those guys are good. If they didn't have proof they wouldn't arrest Trent, they wouldn't be sticking their necks out, just asking for a lawsuit. After all, Trent is a lawyer," Matt said.
Tim pointed out. "His wife was heavily insured according to the papers. Did he buy the law firm with the insurance proceeds?"
"How can you work for Trent feeling this way about him?"
"We're working for him, but we're doing it for you and for Steve. Trent hired us, sure, and to tell you the truth we both like him. He's a likable guy. What's not to like about him? And I'll tell you something else. When he hired us we didn't think for a minute he could be a murderer. But still water runs deep. You never know what lurks in the hearts of men..." Tim said.
"What Tim says makes sense. What do you really know about him, Pen? What does anyone really know about him?" Matt said.
"I'm a good judge of people. And I can tell you all that Trent is no killer," Gladys spoke up.
"His wife's dead. Did it ever occur to you that you might be next? That is, if the police hadn't intervened?" Tim suggested.
"Stop that kind of talk. Kill me? Why would Trent want to kill me? We aren't married. There's no money, no insurance money. No motive."
"Motive? Maybe just for the thrill of it. The planning of it, the getting away with it. Or revenge? There are reason, reasons, a long list of them," Matt said.
"All Trent has ever done is to be wonderful to me. And to Teddy. He took me to Vancouver. He helped me find Teddy. I couldn't have found him without Trent. If I didn't need you, if Cambridge didn't need you, believe me, I'd fire you and throw you off this place."
"Well, we wouldn't go. And we won't be fired. Cambridge needs us. So no matter what, we're staying. I'll tell you one thing, Pen. We're on your side. You really believe in Trent. Okay, that's good enough for us. If it'll make you feel any better, we'll help you in any way we can to prove Trent is innocent," Matt said.
"We sure will," Tim agreed.
"So will I," Annie added.
I broke in. "First I need to know what proof the police think they have. And I need to talk to Trent's attorney. I think I'll call his law firm and oh, I need to tell someone there not to bother with the car. I'll ask who's going to represent Trent. I'll make some more coffee. I'm sure we could all drink more. And I'll fix us something to eat. That is if we have any groceries in the house. Do we?"
"Plenty. I did the shopping myself. Bought out the store, enough for you to make us one of your homemade pies, Pen," Tim said, laughing.
"Pen can make pies?" Gladys asked, with disbelief.
"Best in the West," Tim assured her.
"Oh, the West. Indian country. Doesn't mean a thing," Gladys said.
"Pen, you make your phone call to Trent's law firm and I'll fix the coffee. If you fellas bought me some fresh fruit I can whip up one of my quick specialties," Annie said.
"Go to it," Matt urged her.
I turned from the telephone and covered the mouthpiece. "Trent will have the best defense lawyer in the United States. A man by the name of Nick Huntleigh. Have any of you ever heard of him?"
"Nick Huntleigh. I saw him on America's Most Wanted. He defended a serial killer. A guy who killed seven, eight people just for the thrill of it." Tim said.
"So what happened?" Gladys asked.
"Nick Huntleigh won. The serial killer is free, roaming around free," Tim finished.
"I have Nick Huntleigh on the line now," I said, waving for everyone to be quiet.
"What did Huntleigh say?" Annie asked, after I'd hung up.
"He said he'd take Trent's case. His fee is three million. Half of any book proceeds and one thirds of any movie or TV rights."
"The guy will be richer than Midas. Three mil? Book proceeds? TV, movie rights? And talk shows. Lectures. Think of it, Pen," Annie raged.
"I am thinking of it. Where am I going to get that kind of money? Cambridge won't bring much. I don't know how much Trent has. He's never said how much Ashley's insurance was. I'd like to have this Nick Huntleigh represent Trent, but how?"
Trent turned on his left side to look at the view from the hospital window. Four Peaks, some fifty miles away -- majestic, ominous, held memories and secrets he'd shared with no one. It had been in May, the twenty-eighth to be exact. Two months before Ashley died. Ashley hadn't wanted to hike that day but he'd talked her into it. The hike had been a way of getting her alone where they could talk. Subterfuge on his part.
But he knew when he told her he wanted a divorce she'd go into the crazies. There'd be crying and screaming, fit throwing. She'd tear her hair and bang her head against a wall. Pound her fists against the first object she encountered. Ashley was not a woman who would listen to anyone, anything, unless what was said pleased her. And telling her he wanted a divorce wouldn't please her. His reason, she'd claim, was his old flame, that Pen Parsons. Pen Cambridge. Trent stilled loved her. He'd been seeing her, having an affair with her. Even when he was home, in their bed, making love, he was thinking of Pen.
He hadn't been seeing Pen. But he might as well have. Pen was in their bed and in Trent's arms. With every rise of his body it was always Pen that he took, never Ashley. They'd hiked two miles when he suggested a rest stop. She'd gotten into the swing of the hike and was beginning to enjoy it.
"I'm glad you talked me into this, Trent. I guess I needed to get away, to be in the mountains more than I realized," she said, unlacing her boots and re-tying them. "I think these boots are too heavy. Maybe I'll go shopping some time this week and buy a lighter pair. How are yours?"
"Fine. Ash, I wanted us to take this hike so we could be alone. We need to talk. I need to talk. Our marriage isn't working. We both know it. Let's end it, get a divorce. Each make a new beginning. There's no sense in our staying together. We're young. We have our whole lives ahead of us. Why waste any of them on a relationship where neither of us is happy?" Trent had pleaded.
"You'd like a divorce, wouldn't you? So you could be free, free to go to your whore, that bitch Pen Cambridge! I know what's been going on behind my back. I know you've been sleeping with her. What does her husband, Steve, think? Or does he know about it? Maybe he should know about it, maybe I should tell him...
"Well, I'll never give you up. I'll never agree to a divorce. You're my husband and you're going to stay that way for the rest of your life, for the rest of my life. Is she better in bed than I am? I doubt it. You have to admit I give you what you want. And I do things to you, for you, that I doubt she can match.
"You know, Trent, you aren't too smart. She has a little boy. You don't like children so tell me, what do you think your life would be like with a little brat hanging around? You wouldn't be important to Pen. The little boy would. Think about it. You'd be second. With me you're first. You could have me right here. I'll give you the kind of sex you've never even dreamed of. We've never done it in the mountains."
Where were her tantrums, her screams? Why wasn't she crying? She was too calm. Too rational. Sarcastic, yes, but not throwing a fit. Calculating. He'd expected her crazies.
He wished she was dead. He felt like killing her. He couldn't take any more of her.
Perhaps he'd move out, give her the house. Have his own life. Pen was married to Steve, happily so, as far as he knew. There was nothing he could do about that. At least he'd be living without the stress he was experiencing living with Ashley. But before Trent finalized his plans for moving, Ashley was dead. Suicide. And he was three million dollars richer. She'd taken an insurance policy on her life only a few days before their hike. She'd known the day they'd hiked that he was going to ask for a divorce. And she had her answers well prepared in advance. But why had she taken out the insurance policy on herself? She'd named him beneficiary. Knowing he didn't love her, why would she name him beneficiary?
Why not her sister, Cass Hinckley? Ashley drove to see Cass in Tucson several times a month. She'd never asked him to go along. Ashley was secretive and peculiar in so many ways he simply accepted the fact she obviously didn't want him to meet her sister. And Cass had never shown any interest in meeting him. Even after Ashley's death, even at her funeral. But they must have been close in some way. After all, Ashley went to see her several times a month.
"Mr. Summit, shame on you. You know you're not supposed to be on your side. I'll help you turn over on your back. How are you feeling? I bet you're glad to get out of ICU!" a nurse said.
"Am I ever. Are my two guards still posted outside my door?" Trent said.
"Yes, and from what I understand they're going to be there, or rather, someone is going to be there, as long as you're here at North."
"I'm surprised you're not afraid of me. Haven't you heard I'm a murderer? That I murdered my wife? I did it all for the money. So I can pay my hospital bill. What about the press? Anyone from the press hanging around?"
"Downstairs. They're not allowed here. If they could, they'd put on a nurse's uniform and sneak into the operating room. Anything for a story. I'm going to give you a bath. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"
"I think I could do a better job," I said.
"Oh, Mrs. Cambridge, I didn't hear you come in. Guess you cleared it with the guards. I can come back. You only have fifteen minutes, you know," the nurse reminded.
"I can do a lot in fifteen minutes," I bragged, after the nurse had left. "How are you? You look pretty good to me. Has your doctor been in?"
"Early this morning. In fact, he woke me up. I feel okay. Just sore as hell. What about you? And Teddy and Gladys? How are she and Annie getting along?"
"I'm sore, too. Gladys' arm is giving her fits but she doesn't say too much about it. She and Annie are worse than two kids. Teddy's fine. Really happy to be home. He won't go near the new storage building, though. School starts in a few days. I registered him by phone. First grade. I hope he can handle it. He's never even been to school. Not kindergarten or pre-school or anything. Not even Sunday school. Steve didn't like the idea of him going to school."
"Steve was the one with the problem. Teddy will be fine. Remember, he's one tough little kid. Kidnapped for months. Dragged around Vancouver. He had to deal with Jeff and Muriel. Then in an airplane crash. So don't worry, Teddy can handle the first grade."
"The Scottsdale police and the Vancouver police finally believe he was kidnapped. Now they're looking for Jeff and Muriel. About time. Teddy gave the Scottsdale police a description and they've faxed it to Vancouver. I have a hunch Jeff and Muriel will be caught fairly soon. And the Vancouver police are going to look into finding the guy who was trying to kill me.
"Nick Huntleigh called again. He's planning to come by sometime today. He wants to talk about our lawsuit against Pacific West. And about representing you in the murder trial. Have you thought any more about his fee for this? He wants it up front."
"If you mean have I figured out how I'm going to come up with what he wants, the answer is 'no'. I think it's way out of line. I'm an attorney and I know damn well it's out of line."
"What about selling the law firm? How much could you get for it?"
"Cash? He's got to be kidding. How much can I get for the firm? Anyway, I'd hate to sell it," Trent said, reaching for a glass of water.
"I can get that for you. What about the insurance money from Ashley's policy? How much did you get from it?"
"I wondered when you'd get around to that! Three million. Ashley committed suicide. You know that. Most policies have a suicide clause. If the insured commits suicide the company won't pay. Ashley's policy voided the suicide clause because she paid a five-year premium up-front. The company took a gamble and lost."
"Three million. Trent, tell me what the problem is. I just don't get it. I've been worried sick about how we, you and I, are going to pay Nick's fee and all this time you've had millions, minus whatever the law firm cost. And you could sell the law firm. So what's your problem? As I see it, you don't have a money problem."
"Will you drop it? None of this is really any of your business. I can take care of it. I don't need your advice," Trent said. "Butt out! I mean it, stay out of it! I don't need your advice!"
"And you sure don't need me. I'm leaving. Now you can ring for the nurse to give you that bath. I hope she pinches your jewels!"
"Best offer I've had in days. Don't go. Quit behaving like a spoiled brat. Just because I won't agree with you or let you run my life, boss me around, you're mad and you're walking out. Oh, hi, Nick, come on in. Pen was just leaving," Trent said.
Nick Huntleigh and I had never met. I hadn't given a thought to what Nick looked like. All that mattered was his expertise and his fee. Now, standing in front of me was Mister Drop-Dead Gorgeous.
"Don't leave, Mrs. Cambridge. Pen. I'm glad you're here. I'd like to discuss your suit against Pacific West with both of you. And we can certainly use your advice concerning Trent's case," Nick said. His voice was rough velvet.
"You better get going, Pen." Trent seemed a little nervous all of a sudden. "I can discuss our suit with Nick. You don't need to hang around," Trent insisted.
"Nice to meet you, Nick."
"She didn't even tell me goodbye," Trent grumbled.
"Let's get down to business, Trent. I'll agree to represent you in the murder case and you, Pen, Teddy and Gladys Gooch in the Pacific West crash. Separate fees of course. The murder case is primary. We both know how long it could take to collect from the airlines. Do you have any questions you want to ask me or anything you feel you want to talk over?"
"Yes. Your fee for representing me for murder. It's out of line, Nick. And you know it."
"Probably. But you know I'm worth every penny. That is, if you want to be acquitted."
"Why the big fee? What are you trying to do to me? I asked you to join my firm on a temporary basis and look what you're doing! Lawyers don't screw one another. So what's going on?"
"Who told you lawyers don't screw one another? What's going on? You're in trouble. And I'm the man to get you out of it. For a price. Isn't your life worth three million? You've got it. You had a nest egg, quite a nest egg, already piled up before Ashley's death. Add the proceeds you got from her insurance policy. You bought the firm. Fifty-three percent. For two mil. Not cash. Twenty-five years. And during those twenty-five years you'll have great earning power. So don't con me, don't poor mouth me. You see, I happen to know you can pay me what I'm asking for. I could make a deal with you."
"Like what?"
"Part of my fee in cash. The rest? The law firm."
"Go to hell, Nick!"
"Does that mean you're not interested in my deal?"
"We're not back to anything. Back? Back out the door. I'm firing you before I even hire you."
"Murder becomes you, Trent. You just locked yourself in prison. Without a key!"
Nick rode the elevator to the basement then took the stairs to a back door leading outside to doctor's parking. He expected a few media to be handing around but saw no one. Losing Trent's case hurt. The money to be sure, but also the publicity. A case like Trent's wasn't unusual or difficult to come by. But tying it in with the airline crash certainly was. Nick had already pocketed six other survivors. Trent would have made the seventh survivor that Nick had pocketed since the crash. Reduce his fee? No problem. Eventually, he'd call in his 'friendship' chit and ask to be a partner in the law firm, Nick thought, walking to his new Jag. Yes, this entire scenario was turning out very, very well. He reached for his cellular and hit re-dial. "Room 820, please, " he said to Scottsdale North's operator.
"Trent, Nick here. I've been thinking about that fee. It is a big one. I don't feel right about taking that much money. After all, we're friends. Friendship to me is worth more than money. So I'm going to forget the three mil and represent you, old buddy, for one. What do you think of this? What do you mean you've found another attorney? I just left you a few minutes ago. How'd you find someone else? And so fast? Well, who is he? Who did you find to represent you?" Nick slammed the phone into its cradle. Damn Trent Summit. Dumb son of a bitch. Stupid. Trent was going to represent himself. He'd be sorry. Trent's girl friend. Pen Cambridge. Lovely little lady. No, more than lovely. There was something unique about her, different than the any of the many women he'd been dating. She wasn't prettier, more beautiful, or had a better figure, but there was something. He'd call her, ask her to dinner.
They needed to talk about Trent and his ridiculous decision to represent himself. He might even steal her away from Trent. Wouldn't Trent be mad if his little lady belonged to none other than his old 'friend' Nick Huntleigh? By defending himself Trent could lose Trent his freedom and his little lady. Lawyers don't defend themselves, Trent surely knew this. What was he thinking of? Money? Probably the money.
"That lawyer called here again. He left a message. About dinner tonight. He wants you to meet him in the lobby of the Phoenician at seven," Annie said as I struggled through the door carrying grocery sacks. "Here, let me take some of those...You must have bought out the store. How's Trent?"
"Who cares? I don't. I tried to help him but he doesn't want my help. I was so disgusted I left. The attorney, Nick Huntleigh, showed up just before I walked out. Has Trent called me?" I asked, handing Annie some of the sacks. "Where's Teddy? And Gladys?"
"They're both asleep. Teddy's worn out from playing. Glad isn't feeling too well. I think that arm hurts her more than she leads us to believe. Besides not wanting your help, how's Trent feeling? No, he hasn't called you. How's he feeling?"
"Better. Sore, he said he was sore. I really didn't have much of a visit. I'm only allowed fifteen minutes. I tried to talk to Trent but he's such a hard-head. We wasted most of my time arguing. Then Nick Huntleigh walked in."
"What's he like?"
"Young. Handsome. Looks like a movie star."
"He's asked you to dinner tonight. What's this about? I'm fixing Swiss steak, in case you want to know."
"Does that ever sound delicious. Serves Trent right. He'd love your Swiss steak. Sure beats his hospital food. I wonder why Nick asked me to have dinner with him? Did he say anything?"
"Just that he wanted you to meet him in the lobby of the Phoenician at seven. Maybe you better phone Trent. Maybe something happened between Trent and this Huntleigh," Annie suggested, as she sprinkled flour on the steak.
"I don't feel like talking to Trent. You call him."
"I can't. My hands are covered with flour. I don't blame you for being disgusted with him. Men can be so stubborn. And all you're trying to do is help him. Just let him stew in his own juice for awhile. It'll serve him right. What an ego. Only a few days ago at death's door."
"You could call. Wipe the flour from your hands. You could call, Annie."
"Not me. I'm not one to get involved in a lover's quarrel. Wait until Glad wakes up. We'll get her to call. Let's not even tell her that you and Trent have had a spat. Or Teddy, we can have Teddy call him. Or both. Somebody's at the front door. I'll answer it," Annie offered, wiping her hands on paper towels.
"What is it, Annie?"
"A florist's shop! A guy just delivered a whole florist's shop to you!" she exclaimed. "Roses! Yellow. Pink. White. Dozens of them!"
"Is there a card?" Pen asked.
"Let's look."
"I found it, Annie."
"What's it say?"
"Seven dozen. See you at seven. Nick."
"What do you and this Nick have going for you? What did you two do when you met in Trent's hospital room?" Annie asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about or even thinking of, Annie!"
"So why did he send you seven dozen roses?"
"I haven't any idea."
"Courting. He's courting you. I know courting when I see it. A man sends flowers when he's courting. And seven dozen roses. Delivered all the way out here in the boonies."
"Who died? This place looks and smells like a funeral home!" Gladys said, walking into the kitchen. "What are you making, Annie?"
"Some movie star sent Pen seven dozen roses. I'm making Swiss steak," Annie said, as she peeled onions.
"Yes, seven dozen roses. How's your arm, Gladys?" I asked.
"Doesn't hurt too much. Roses? Trent sent you seven dozen roses? Now isn't he the sweetest man. And they say he murdered his wife. Annie, put those onions under running cold water and they won't make you cry. Whew. Between the onions and the roses, the smell around here is something else. How's Trent?"
"Why don't you call him, Gladys? I know he'd love to hear from you," I said.
"I think I will. I'll cheer him up. Poor soul, eating hospital food."
"Let me dial the number for you. Ask for room 820."
"Room 820 please. Hi, Trent, this is Gladys. My arm? Okay, I guess. How are you? Say, those roses you sent Pen are beautiful! But why so many? It looks like a funeral home in here. Annie's making Swiss steak. Chopping onions. The roses and the onions really smell up the place. Say, what about that attorney and his big fee? Oh. Oh. Do you want to talk to Pen? She's standing right here. Okay. Bye."
"What, what?" Pen exclaimed.
"Trent said no, he didn't want to talk to you."
"What else? What was your 'oh-oh' about?"
"Trent says he fired that Nick Huntleigh. He's hired someone else."
"Who? How much?"
"Himself. He's going to represent himself."
"He's a fool. What on earth is Trent thinking of? Money. What am I going to do? That fool-headed, hard-headed Trent. He should know better. This is his life we're talking about. Murder one. And he can't post bond. There's no bond on murder one. I know. I've seen this on LA Law. So how does he think he can represent himself when he's in jail and can't find the evidence that's needed to acquit him? Maybe he thinks that if he's his own lawyer, that if he represents himself, he'll be allowed bond? He's gone too far. He's really gone too far. I'll tell you, Annie, Gladys, I'm afraid. Save me some Swiss steak. I'm having dinner at the Phoenican. Now I have to go through my wardrobe and find a dress to wear. With Nick Huntleigh, Gladys. He's invited me to dinner tonight."
"How about something flowery. With long sleeves," Annie suggested.
"Or a suit? Something tailored?" Gladys said.
"How about something sheer, black and cut very, very low in the front. So when I lean over my boobs will practically fall in Nick Huntleigh's lap. Ammunition to get Nick to take Trent's case practically free."
"Do you have a dress like that?" Gladys asked, wide eyed.
"In the back of my closet. Never worn it. I hope it still fits."
"I'm handy with a needle. If it needs letting out or taking in I can do it," Annie said.
An hour and thirty-five minutes later I twirled my way into the living room, swishing the skirt of a sheer black dress that almost had a bodice.
"You won't need to bend over to show them," Annie said.
"You're about to fall out!" Gladys groaned.
"So how do I look?"
"Mommy, you look beautiful. But where's the top of your dress?" Teddy asked, blinking sleep from his eyes.
"I'll drive you to Sky Harbor to pick up Trent's Porsche. A Porsche is exactly what you should be driving wearing a dress like that," Annie said.
"What do you call that kind of a dress, Mommy?" Teddy asked.
"Ammunition. You call it ammunition, Teddy."
Fire when ready...
Cass popped her eighth vicodin. Maybe she'd made a mistake by signing herself out of Scottsdale North. The doctor said she should stay a few days longer, have more tests, but she'd insisted she was fine, she could be dismissed. Now she wasn't so sure.
Just the short drive from the Tucson airport to her home had been torture. She climbed into her unmade bed and flipped the TV remote. Sid Stewart, channel twelve, was giving an update on Pacific West's crash...'seriously injured Trent Summit, of Paradise Valley, was recuperating well from his surgery. His condition had been updated, he'd been moved from ICU to a private room. Summit had been stabbed in the chest by a handcuff attached to his guard. The guard had died in the crash. It was believed the handcuff had come loose, had swung around with centrifugal force, piercing Summit's chest. Summit had been extradited from Vancouver. He's suspected of murdering his wife, Ashley. Ashley was found dead over a year ago. Her death was listed as suicide.'
Thank God. Trent was alive. Alive to stand trial for Ashley's murder. Alive to be convicted. To overturn that verdict of suicide. To change the beneficiary of Ashley's insurance policy. Ashley shouldn't have named Trent, she was her sister, Ashley should have named her, she should have been beneficiary. The suicide verdict had to be overturned. The verdict had to be murder, Trent had to be convicted of murder.
Cass' head hurt more than ever now. She didn't dare take any more vicodin. Maybe a drink would help. She poured herself a double jigger of Johnnie Walker.
The colors of her nightmare, reds and yellows mixed with black, floated around her. Red for blood, yellow for sunshine, black for death. My blood stills, I'll see no more sunshine, death is so dark. But I changed my mind. Ashley was screaming. She and the colors were screaming. I changed my mind!
Cass lay bathed in sweat. The overhead fan chilled her. Shivering, she pulled the covers around and over her, more like a shroud than a cocoon. The following morning her cleaning woman found her unconscious on the floor.
Nick's head was splitting. Too much to drink last night. Pen, and the night and the music, something like that. Pen looked gorgeous. That black dress. Her breasts.
And she was so easy. He'd had no trouble at all convincing her Trent should reconsider, should retain him.
"I've even offered to represent Trent for only one million, for friendship's sake. I thought about Trent and I, good friends. The only decent thing to do, of course, was for me to offer myself for one mil. Trent refused. Naturally, he'd refuse. But it's out of the question. Lawyers can't represent themselves. They lose every time," Nick said.
"I don't know anything about the law. But I'm sure you're right about a lawyer representing himself. I'll talk to him. He'll listen to me. You know, Nick it's very sweet of you to take this attitude," I complimented, leaning forward.
"Not at all. As I said, what are friends for?" he said, ogling her breasts. "I think you're the one who's sweet. Sweet to meet me like this on such short notice. Sweet to agree to talk to Trent. Would you like to dance? They're playing 'That Old Black Magic', it's my favorite."
"I'm still pretty sore from the crash. But yes, just this one, since it's your favorite."
He loved the way she fit, the way her small body meld into his. Her breasts brushed him, he could picture them rosy and firm.
"You're a marvelous dancer, Pen," he whispered.
"I haven't danced in years."
"I'd never know it. You're a natural, born to dance," he said, pushing himself into her.
A natural? Born to?
"What are you thinking?" Nick asked.
"How much I'm enjoying this. But it's getting late. I should be going."
"I'm enjoying it, too. And I wish it didn't have to end. Can we do this again. Can I see you again?"
I stepped off the dance floor, walked to our table and picked up my handbag.
"It's been lovely. I'm sure I can convince Trent to reconsider."
"I'll walk you to your car," Nick said, hopefully.
"No need. I valet parked. Call Trent tomorrow afternoon. He'll be ready to talk to you by then. Thanks for the flowers and dinner."
"Trent called you. About an hour after you left," Gladys said, as Pen walked in.
"Teddy took the call. So how did your black dress go over? Your ammunition?"
"I think I won the battle but lost the war," I said, kicking off my shoes.
"What does that mean? You'll have to explain it to me. I don't get it."
"I almost did. Get it. Nick was so overwhelmed, so bowled over, he wants to see me again. And not for legal reasons. I think I overshot my mark. My dress went beyond its call of duty."
"What about Trent's case? Is Nick going to represent him? Did you talk him into it?"
"I did. He was very cooperative and understanding. He's going to call Trent tomorrow afternoon. By then I'll have Trent softened up."
"Don't plan on it," Gladys said.
"Why not?"
"Trent called here about an hour after you left. Teddy took the call. He told Trent about the flowers, about Mommy going out to dinner at the Phoenician, and about the black dress Mommy had on, the one with no top."
"Did Teddy tell him who I was meeting? Did he say who I was meeting?"
"He told him alright. Not once -- twice. I took the phone and tried to make light of the whole thing. I told him it was business, strictly business. That the flowers were really for Annie from her friends in Wickenburg. That the black dress was a rag, looked dreadful, especially with that cheap black shawl you wore. I said you had no pretty clothes, poor thing. That Teddy was just a little kid, what did he know about any of it?"
"Wonderful. You're wonderful, Gladys. Did Trent believe you?"
"Not a word. He knows me too well by now. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes the next time you visit him," Gladys said.
"What do the two of you think I should do? Besides hang myself?"
"My mother said to feed a fever, starve a cold, or something like that. But she didn't mention anything about a situation like this. How about taking him some of that Swiss steak, you know how he loves to eat. And wear something sexy," Annie suggested.
"Well, I can't wear that black dress."
"Wear a tight-knitted shirt. No bra. Short shorts. Oh, and take some of those roses."
"Anything else? Do either of you have any suggestions?"
"Tell him to move over. You're climbing in with him. If he gives you any static, say 'excuses, excuses, the next thing I know you'll say you have a headache!' And don't take no for an answer," Annie ordered.
Trent was hidden by a newspaper when I walked into his room.
"Catching up on your reading? There's more about our Pacific West crash. Gladys has been saving articles about it for you. How are you today?"
"The question is 'how are you today'? After your big date last night! How was it? Teddy said you wore a black dress with no top!"
"My date was fine. If you can call it a date. Actually, it was a meeting. Nick wants you back as a client. Maybe you should reconsider his offer. Defending yourself, is it the best way to go? Isn't it risky for a lawyer to represent himself?"
"What smells so good?" Trent asked, folding the paper and setting it aside.
"Swiss steak. A sandwich. Annie sent it to you. Made homemade bread and all the fixings."
"Did she include some of the roses she got from her friends in Wickenburg?" he said, sarcastically.
"So what are you going to do about Nick? Are you going to give in and let him represent you?"
"Stop that! What's going on? Is that a beef sandwich I see? I doubt the doctor will allow you to eat that. You're still on a special diet, no red meat, you know," a nurse ranted as she came into the room.
"Have a heart. I haven't had anything good to eat in days," Trent begged.
"Absolutely not. Hand it over," the nurse demanded.
"Never mind. I'll eat it," I said. "Trent, you should have some fruit. Could he have fruit? Miss Owens, isn't it?"
"Owens. Yes. Fruit? Certainly. I'll order you some. But don't go near that sandwich!" Miss Owens insisted, as she left.
"Grab a coupla bites while you can, Trent. You are going to retain Nick, aren't you?"
"Don't you have any confidence in me? Don't you believe I can defend myself successfully? What I'm asking is: don't you believe in me?"
"Of course I do. I don't believe in the system, in your defending yourself. Nobody who defends himself wins! A lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client. You've heard this. And..."
"There's always an exception to any rule. Give me another bite of that sandwich before ornery Owens catches me."
"Well, if won't change your mind, if you're adamant about representing yourself, if I can't talk you out of it, I'll have to help you. You can't do it alone. Anyway, won't you be in jail? Murder one, there's no bail for murder one, is there? Or does that apply if you're your own counsel?" Pen asked.
"You sound like a lawyer, a criminal lawyer."
"I do watch TV, you know."
"I'll have to have that reduced to second degree or manslaughter. There are a number of things that I need done. You could help me. You'll be on the outside. I wonder when I'm going to be dismissed from here?"
"And then to jail. You have it better right here. Tell me about Ashley. Even the smallest detail."
"And you didn't even want to drive her car."
"Never mind about that. I need to get to know her. She committed suicide, didn't she?"
"Yes. I'd asked her for a divorce. She refused. Shortly after that, she killed herself."
"Poison. She poisoned herself, didn't she?"
"Yes. She put poison, dieldrin, in her packets of Sweet 'n Low."
"Why on earth would she do that?"
"To make it look like I poisoned her."
"Because she wouldn't agree to a divorce?"
"Right."
"What happened? I'm mixed up."
"Ashley put the dieldrin in the Sweet 'n Low packets. But she wanted to make it appear that I had done it. For some reason, and I may never know what this reason is, she changed her mind. She left a note telling what she'd done. Her twin sister, Cass Hinckley, found the note and Ashley's body. Which really surprised me then and still surprises me because her sister never came to visit her. Or at least, that's what I thought."
"Have you talked to her? This Cass, what was her last name?"
"Hinckley. Cass Hinckley. No, I've never met the woman. She didn't even show up for Ashley's funeral. She's the one who called the police to say that Ashley didn't commit suicide, that I killed her. That's what started all this."
"Why would she do this? What reason would she have? You say the two of you have never even met. What reason would she have to stir this up? Over a year after Ashley's death?"
"Money. Ashley named me as the beneficiary of that insurance policy. If I had killed her, I couldn't inherit. The proceeds would go to Ashley's next of kin. Who happens to be her sister, her only sister, and her only living relative. Cass Hinckley."
"But why did Cass wait so long? Why didn't she accuse you or killing Ashley sooner? It's been over a year."
"I don't know for sure, but I suspect she didn't know until recently that if I was convicted of murdering Ashley, that Ashley didn't commit suicide, that I killed her, I couldn't inherit the proceeds, that as only living relative she'd be in line to receive the proceeds of the insurance policy."
"So you think that Cass found out about this just recently?"
"I don't know. I think so."
"And now she wants Ashley's suicide to be a murder. And you as the murderer. A nice little bundle. Do you think Ashley planned this insurance thing? I mean, three million! If my husband was going to divorce me, I wouldn't buy a three million dollar insurance policy and name him as my beneficiary. And what about suicide? I thought an insurance policy wouldn't pay off if a person committed suicide."
"Ashley thought of that, had the suicide clause voided by paying the premium five years in advance -- big, big money. The reason she named me her beneficiary? I'm sure she wanted her death to appear as if I'd killed her for the money."
"What proof do the police have that you killed her? That she didn't commit suicide? You said her sister found her body and a note. What did the note say? Was it in her own handwriting?"
"It was her handwriting, alright. I identified it. The note said she couldn't live without me. That death was better than divorce."
"What's changed? What's caused the police to think that anything has changed? Do you know?"
"Not yet. The police aren't saying. I may not know, not until the DA steps in."
"The DA? When will he step in?"
"When I've been arrested. It will be the DA's case then. Clint Neeson's case. I know him personally. This will be a tough case for both of us."
"And as soon as the doctor says you can be released from the hospital you'll go to jail, won't you? I can't stand the thought of your being in jail. And Teddy? Gladys? Annie? Your law partners, friends? It's going to be terrible."
"Speaking of partners, how are the O'Hara's doing? What's happening with Cambridge? I've been in a coma, so I haven't been keeping up too well," Trent said.
"The O'Hara's are doing a wonderful job. They've even been doing the bookwork, much as they dislike it. Or rather, Tim's been doing it. They can't believe Teddy is alive. No one can. Least of all me. He and Annie and Gladys do things together. When I left, they were playing Chutes and Ladders. Annie says she'd going to buy a computer for him. I said to wait. He's too young."
"Not at all, the sooner little kids learn about computers, the better."
"When this is over, when you're free, you can teach him."
"Give me another bite of that sandwich."
"Not on your life, Mr. Summit. I can't trust you for even a few minutes," nurse Owens complained, striding in and putting a bowl of fruit on a table. "It's too late now, I can see that, but don't let me catch you eating a no-no again. I'm off duty now so behave yourself!"
"Every chance I get," Trent promised her.
"Getting back to Ashley's handwriting. Do you still have any samples of it, Trent?"
"Some place. Why?"
"I'm not sure. Do you still have any of Ashley's things?"
"Her books. She loved books. There's boxes of them. I have them stored in a closet."
"Do you mind if I look through her things?"
"No, I don't mind but I don't understand why you want to."
"I don't really want to. I need to. I told you I need to know more about her. I need to get the feel of her. Did you love her a lot?"
"I didn't. I didn't love her a lot. In fact, I didn't really ever love her. I liked her. We met when I was still vulnerable. I needed her. I needed someone. We met and were married before either one of us really knew what had hit us."
"She loved you though, didn't she?"
"Yes, she did love me. I think she did. Love me."
"Could I have a key to your house so I can look around? Maybe I'll find something, a clue. Something that you might not have noticed."
"There's a spare car key and a spare house key in the glove compartment of Ashley's Porsche. You did get the Porsche from Sky Harbor, didn't you?"
"Oh sure, I got it. Annie drove me to the airport so I could pick it up."
"When was that?"
"Last night."
"On your way to or from your date with Nick?"
"To. You keep calling it a date, Trent. It was a business meeting. Anyway, let's forget about it and concentrate on your case."
"Teddy said you wore a black dress with no top."
"Would I wear such a dress? Teddy goes to school tomorrow. His first day. Gladys, Annie and I are taking him. I wish you could come with us. Teddy would love that. I hope I hold up."
"Hold up? About Teddy going to school for the first time? Why wouldn't you? Never mind, I think I know why. Your mother's heart?"
"That's it."
"Getting back to your date with Nick..."
"When did you ask Ashley for a divorce? And where were you?"
"We went on a hike. I suggested it so we could talk. It was in May. The twenty-eighth. I talked to her about our marriage, how it wasn't working. That we were both young, that we should give it up, go on with our lives. I fully expected her to go into her one of her crazies but she was, for Ashley, relatively calm and rational. She said she'd never give me up."
"Her crazies. What were these?"
"She'd go berserk. Screaming, crying, banging her head on things. Crazy. But she didn't behave this way on the hike. As I said, she was relatively calm and rational. Mad, stubborn, but not crazy."
"No divorce."
"Right. No divorce."
"When did she take out that insurance policy on herself?" Pen asked.
"That's the damnedest part. She took it out a few days before we went on that hike, before I asked her for a divorce. She must have known I was going to ask her for one. I've thought about it."
"So what were your plans? What were Ashley's? Or did you know?"
"I decided I'd move out. But before I did, Ashley killed herself."
"And left you three million dollars richer."
"I don't like the tone in your voice, Pen!"
"You like the money though! See, see, I'm baiting you just like the prosecutor will. And did you ever bristle. I can tell I'm going to have to coax you. You need acting lessons."
"You've been watching too much television. Acting lessons."
"I think you better watch some of the same TV that I do. It won't do you any harm. Think about it, the prosecutor will bait you. To get a rise out of you. To make you angry. To put you out of control. Then you'll say things you'll wish you hadn't or say things in a way you wish you hadn't. The jury will love it. And they'll remember every word. You have to be careful what you say and how you say it."
"A chocolate milkshake. That's what I need. You could get one from the cafeteria and sneak it up to me," Trent said in a sweet voice.
"I've all ready gotten into trouble bringing you that Swiss steak sandwich. Fruit. Eat some fruit. It will do you good."
"Ornery Owens has left, don't you remember she said she was leaving? Come on, be nice to me. I'd do the same for you."
"You're changing the subject. Okay, just this once. It's two 'til. Turn on TV and listen for any news that we've missed. Channel twelve has a sixty-minute update at two 'til all day."
"Tell them to make it thick. Double the ice cream, double the chocolate syrup," Trent ordered.
"I could hear you all the way down the hall, Trent Summit. What are you yelling about? So it took longer than we thought. Here's your milkshake. The guy said he made milkshakes thick enough."
"Channel twelve's two minute 'til. Cass Hinckley. She was on the plane, our plane. Pacific West 840. She overdosed on something and had to be taken to a Tucson hospital!"
"Cass Hinckley? Ashley's sister? On our 840? On our plane? Overdosed at home? Is she dead?"
"No."
"I think we just found out who was trying to kill me while we were in Vancouver."
"Cass Hinckley."
"Cass Hinckley. Call the Tucson hospital and ask how she is."
"Tucson General. Yes, okay. Operator, give me information. Tucson. Tucson General. Please, yes, dial it for me. Information. It's ringing," he told Pen.
"I can't believe any of this."
"I'd like an update on the condition of Cass Hinckley. A relative. No, I'm with the Tucson police. No change? Thanks."
"I heard you. No change. Why didn't you say you were a relative? You are, or rather, you were at one time. Brother-in-law."
"Two reasons. One: I don't want to be even remotely related to her. And two: I don't want her to know I've called."
"Is that called playing it low? Or playing it close to your chest?"
"Your chest! Now about that dress you wore last night. Teddy said it had no top..."
"Drink your milkshake. It's getting watery and thin. Which is more than I'll be able to say about you if you keep eating this way!"
"Watery?"
"No. Thin!"
"I'm going to notify the Vancouver and Tucson police about Cass," Trent said, sipping his milkshake.
"We don't have any proof. All we have to go on is that she was on our flight."
"True, but it's a good start. The Vancouver police know about the incidents, the unexplained accidents that happened to you. If they can put Cass in the same areas at the same time they'll certainly have something to work on."
"Why would she want to kill me? I've never met her, at least I don't think I've met her. What could she have against me? Enough to want me dead?" I asked, taking Trent's empty milkshake carton.
"Maybe because of me. Ashley was violently jealous of you. She blamed the failure of our marriage on you. No doubt she shared this information with Cass. Maybe Cass hated you because Ashley hated you."
"Was I -- am I -- to blame for your marriage failing?"
"Indirectly. Ashley, as I've told you, was violently jealous of you."
"But you and I hadn't seen one another in years. How could she be jealous of me? I was married -- had Teddy."
"She thought we were seeing one another."
"What? How, why, would she think this? Did you give any reason to think this?"
"No. She'd made up her mind that I was seeing you. And nothing would or could change her mind once she made it up."
"I'm sorry she felt this way. She must have been miserable."
"She was. And she made me miserable along with her. Speaking of miserable, have the media been dogging you? I know they're downstairs just waiting to pounce on you or anyone who was remotely connected with the crash."
"I've found a secret way in and out of the hospital. Through the kitchen, out to doctor's parking. The crash isn't the only thing they're interested in. They want Teddy's story. I haven't given any interviews about it. Promises, promises. I know I'll have to come across sooner or later. So far I've been lucky to escape all the hoopla and hype."
"How'd you do it? Escape it?"
"I think the media believe I've already given an exclusive to someone. So they figure the story will be aired, why bother?"
"Where'd they get this idea?"
"Annie. We were struggling to get to her car the other day and I think she said something to the press."
"What'd she say?"
"You'll have to ask her!"
"It is quite a story. In fact, it's an incredible story."
"Yes, and one with a happy ending. Gladys and Annie suggest I keep mum for now. Write a book about it."
"And go on talk shows? Twenty twenty. Oprah. Rosie."
"Or start a talk show of my own with Annie and Gladys."
"Where do I fit in?"
"In? Believe me, you fit in," I said, laughing like a silly fool.
"Woman, are you mad? What are you laughing about?"
"You with a headache. The next thing I know you'll say you have a headache!"
Cambridge Ranch was deserted when I arrived home from my visit with Trent. Annie had left me a note on the kitchen table. Gladys was shack-wacky and had to get away from the house. The three of them had gone into Scottsdale to see Pocahontas. They didn't call me at Trent's hospital room because...because. I was still laughing when I answered the front door. More flowers from Nick, probably. Hopefully, not the media! They were bound to pursue the 840 crash and Teddy's kidnapping - rescue even though I'd diverted them by agreeing to interviews later. Later to them might be now.
"Who are you?" I asked, attempting to shut the door as quickly as I'd opened it. "Move your foot! You can't come in here! Who are you?"
"My name's Ton Leo. I was a friend of Gordie Horton. He worked here for you, didn't he? Or for your husband. Same thing."
"He's dead. Gordie is dead. He was killed months and months ago. So get out!"
"Yeah, yeah. I know Gordie's dead. He owed me big bucks. Gambling losses. I know he's dead an' I know when an' I know how. I also know he worked for youse. I also know youse were in a plane crash. Pacific West 840. So I also know youse are gonna collect from the airlines. An' I wanna share of this. I figure I'm deservin' of it. After all, Gordie owed me an' he was workin' for youse when he got himself killed in your big explosion."
"You figure wrong if you think for one minute that I owe you anything. Gordie owed you. I don't owe you a cent. So you might as well get out. If you don't, I'll call the police," I threatened, knowing it meant nothing at all to Ton Leo. I was cornered. From the window, in the distance, I could see something silver driving toward the house. It was Annie, Gladys, and Teddy. I had to stop them.
"Whatcha' lookin' at out there? A car? Yeah, yeah, a car, comin' this way. Good, just what I need, more people. It's your kid, isn't it? Your little boy. I know youse have a kid, see, Ton Leo, he keeps up with the news. You stand there by the door like youse are waitin' for your kid and whoever is with him. Don't mouth off. If youse do, I'll knock your stupid head off. Play it cool, play it quiet," he ordered, waving a gun.
Annie, Gladys and Teddy were singing as they walked towards the house.
"Mommy, you're home. We had the best time. We went to see...who's this guy?"
Teddy asked, backing away from Ton Leo.
"Get in, all of youse, get inside and shut your big mouths."
"Do as he says. He has a gun. His name is Ton Leo. He was a friend of Gordie Horton, Steve's partner. Gordie owed Ton Leo money, gambling losses. Ton Leo thinks I should pay them."
"Youse got it right. So now all of us set down and have a talk. Just so we understand one another," Ton Leo demanded. "Sit down."
"Not me. I'm not sitting down. I've been sitting down. At the movie. Me, I'm making a pot of coffee. Who wants coffee? And pie? Blackberry," Annie said, walking toward the kitchen.
"Lady, youse is makin' me mad! Get back in here and set down like I told youse to do."
"Or what? Or you'll shoot me? Well, go ahead and shoot. I told you I'm not sitting down. I'm making coffee. Who wants their pie with ice cream?" Annie asked.
"Annie, Ton Leo isn't kidding. You better do what he says. He has a gun," I warned.
"An' I know how to use it!" Ton Leo assured Annie.
"I know, I know. I've seen all this on TV or in a movie at one time or another. Of course youse know how to use the gun. About the ice cream, do you want one scoop or two on your pie? It's blackberry. Me, I always have to have two on mine, Leo," Annie said.
"Two scoops. And don't call me Leo. My name's Ton Leo. Get it? What's the matter witch youse? Aren't youse afraid of me?"
"Sure I am. You've got the gun, haven't you? But I know people and I can tell you are a reasonable man," Annie said.
"I am reasonable? How do youse figure?"
"Like I said, I know people. An unreasonable man would have come here with three, four, maybe even six men with him. My pie only cuts six pieces. There's five of us. One piece of pie leftover. To go. You can take it with you when you leave."
"Leave?"
"Now, Ton Leo. Now and with me," a policeman said, stepping into the room.
"Youse tricked me, youse tricked me," Leo screamed at Annie as he was dragged outside.
"Annie, how did the police get here? How did you know Ton Leo was here?" I asked.
"I heard about Leo, Ton Leo, on my police scanner in the car while we were driving back from our movie. He'd been in a bar on Camelback, talking about Gordie Horton and threatening to hit somebody up for what Gordie owed him in gambling losses. The police were looking for Ton Leo. When I saw a strange car parked outside the house I remembered you talking about a Gordie Horton and I put two and two together. I phoned the police from my car. I drove on in. The policeman is new on the job and didn't know how to find Cambridge Ranch. I thought about letting Gladys and Teddy out someplace but both Gladys and Teddy said no, they wanted to be here with you. We sang at the top of our voices to distract Ton Leo," Annie explained.
"You're incredible, Annie. You really saved us all. Especially me. Wait until I tell Trent. This was bound to happen, this situation with Ton Leo. In fact, there was a time when Trent and I suspected him as the one who was trying to kill me in Vancouver. But something has turned up to make us think it was someone else. After we put Teddy to bed I'll tell you about it."
"This someone else. Has he been caught? I still get chills thinking of the attempts he made on your life. I can't wait to hear what you have to say. And after we put Teddy to bed you can tell us about your visit with Trent. Did you?" Gladys asked.
"Almost. It was one of those 'almosts'."
"I wonder what Trent will have to say about this? No, not the 'almost'. Ton Leo being out here. It's scary out here. We're three women alone with a little boy. I think we need security," Annie suggested. "If I hadn't been listening to my car scanner this might have turned out very differently."
"Maybe we should move into town," Gladys suggested.
That made me stop and say, "I'm all for it. Teddy will be going to school. Living in Scottsdale would certainly be more convenient for all of us. After we take Teddy to school tomorrow why don't we look at real estate?."
"There are too many memories here. Not all good. Living in Scottsdale will give you a new start. What about us, Annie and I? Do you want us to visit awhile longer?" Gladys asked.
"Of course I do. We just found one another, we can't lose us."
"I want everyone to live together. Trent, don't forget Trent," Teddy said.
"Right. We don't want to forget Trent. Let's have pie and ice cream. And after that Teddy, it's into bed. Tomorrow is a big day for you. I'm excited about your going to school but I'm going to miss you around here."
"How did you live while I was kidnapped and had to live with Jeff and Muriel?" he asked.
"I didn't, Teddy. I didn't live. Don't get me started. I'll cry."
"Like Annie does when she peels onions?" Teddy asked.
"Not at all. Different tears," Annie broke in. "I'm ready for that pie ala. Gladys, you go sit down and I'll bring it to you."
"Cut me a big slice with two scoops. I want to check my answering machine," I said, walking to the bedroom.
"The Vancouver police!" I shouted from the bedroom. "They've caught Jeff and Muriel!"
"Where, when?" Teddy asked, waving his spoon for joy. "What about my Tony? Did the police find him?"
"I don't know. They didn't say. All the message said was that Jeff and Muriel had been caught. For me to call Vancouver tomorrow. Ask for Bert Howell."
"Bert Howell? Our Bert? My Bert? I knew it. He's been promoted. Wait until Trent hears about all this. Well, Teddy, you'll sleep tonight, won't you?" Gladys said.
"He will if he doesn't bash himself on the head with that spoon!" Annie teased.
I turned away so no one would see my tears. It was over. Teddy's kidnappers had been caught. He was safe. He was free and he was safe. I was safe but I'll never be free. Free of my anger, my hurt, my hate.
Teddy had been read to, hugged, snuggled, kissed and had fallen asleep. I showered, slipped on blue cotton nightshirt with daisies on the collar. Finger drying my wet hair, I plopped down on the sofa.
"He looks like an angel," I said.
"All mothers think their children are angels one minute after they're asleep. In Teddy's case it's true. Isn't that Ton Leo a character? Walked right in and insisted you to pay off that Gordie's gambling debts. Now tell us about the guy who tried to kill you in Vancouver," Annie said.
"It was a woman. Trent's ex-sister-in law. Her name's Cass Hinckley. She lives in Tucson. Now for the big news, the rocker. She was on our Pacific West flight."
"You're kidding? I'll get the paper. There's a list of survivors," Gladys said, heading toward her bedroom. "Here, you read it. It's difficult to turn the pages one handed," she said, handing me the paper.
"H...Hinckley, Cass. Tucson, Arizona. Yes, there she is. She was in Vancouver all the time Trent and I were there. Watching every move we made."
"How'd you know she was on our flight?" Gladys asked.
"She was on the news. Trent heard it. She overdosed on medication and was taken to Tucson General. I think she tried to kill me time after time," I said, purposely leaving out anything about Ashley's insurance money and her death. It might be prudent to say nothing about this. Trent might not want to discuss Ashley, even with Annie and Gladys.
"Cass Hinckley is the one who turned Trent in, who told the police Trent killed Ashley. She's the one who sent the police the fax with that polaroid picture of us the day we were in our disguises. Annie, Gladys told you about this, didn't she?"
"Did she ever. I wish I could have seen you all. And she said someone stole the picture. So it was this Cass who stole it? And faxed it to the Scottsdale and Vancouver police?" Annie asked.
"She's the one. She broke into Gladys' house. That's where she got the picture of us. And she's the one who put the bee in the police's bonnet about accusing Trent of murdering Ashley. Now, after all this time, Cass has told the police Trent poisoned Ashley. It's murder one. Trent really needs a good lawyer like Nick Huntleigh."
"Has Trent decided to have Nick defend him?" Annie asked.
"No, Trent has a fool for a client. He's going to defend himself. I don't see how he can. There's no bail. He won't be able to gather any evidence while he's sitting in a cell. The DA will be taking the case once Trent's indicted. He and Trent know one another but that may not have any influence or help Trent. I told him I'd help in any way I can. And I already know the two of you will help. The police have motive, opportunity and proof. The motive is money, we all know that. Or it would be if Trent was the murderer. Opportunity. That's easy. Trent was around. In town. He had plenty of opportunity. Now comes the proof. What proof? Cass Hinckley has accused Trent. From what Trent understands, she claims she has proof. What this is, Trent doesn't know. He doesn't have a clue."
"What if she dies? From that overdose? What about the proof she claims to have?" Annie asked.
"If she dies? I don't know. Maybe she's already given her so-called proof to the police. Who knows? If she dies and hasn't given it to the police, the police may strike out on their own to find it. Then again, if she dies and hasn't given the police any idea just what the proof is, well, Trent could be freed in a moment. I've been thinking and thinking about all of this. I'm no detective but if there is proof and I could figure out what it is or find it, all of this would be over. I'm going to go through Ashley's things, the ones that Trent still has."
"After we take Teddy to school, and talk with a Realtor about finding you a house, do you want us to help you look through Ashley's stuff?" Gladys asked.
"Sure, fine. I can use all the help I can get."
"Maybe we should do to Cass Hinckley as she has done to you," Annie suggested. "What I mean is, she broke into Gladys' house. Let's go to Tucson. Let's break into her house. Maybe we'll find something she doesn't want us to find."
"I think that's called 'breaking and entering'. We could all go to jail. I have an idea. She's never seen me. I could go to her house, pretend I'm the Avon lady or something. With a giveaway. Sweet talk her, manage to get inside her house," Annie suggested.
"No break in but it's still 'entering'. It's still against the law. Besides, she's in the hospital."
"So we're back to square one. As far as I can see it, we have no choice but to break in. And I for one don't feel badly about it. She broke into my house. Stole our picture. It's an eye for an eye," Gladys claimed.
"All's fair in love and war. This is definitely war. Love? Speaking of love, Pen, tell us what happened. Did you climb in with Trent?"
"I'll never tell." Climb in? Every inch of me screamed to climb in. To be touched, to kiss, to be held.
To kill.
Cass had messages on her recorder when she arrived home from Tucson General. Nick Huntleigh wanted to represent her in the Pacific West crash. Call him. A mass memorial for the victims, survivors, families, and friends was going to be held in Tempe at the Cactus High School, Thursday at ten a.m. She was feeling better, groggy, but better. The doctor said she'd had a close call. Why did she take so many vicodin? And why did she mix them with alcohol? Why, why, why! Why was she so dumb? Her head hurt. Her brains were slush. Why? Who knows? She had a slight concussion. Rest. Take two vicodin only every six hours. She'd be fine in a few weeks. She returned Nick Huntleigh's call and was told he was out of the office.
"Tell him yes, I do want him to represent me in the Pacific West airliner crash," Cass told Nick's secretary. "He'll be in touch? Fine." He'll be in touch and she'd be rich. Airlines pay big bucks. The problem was when? Airlines were known to be slow settling claims. Trent's conviction and the proceeds of Ashley's insurance would be sooner.
The memorial for the victims, survivors, families, and friends of the Pacific West crash was to be held Thursday morning. The doctors wouldn't allow Trent to attend. Teddy? I wondered if he should go.
"He's doing so well. If he has any trauma, I haven't seen much of it. Teddy was asleep when the plane crashed and I'm not sure he was even aware of what had happened. I'm darned if he goes to the memorial and darned if he doesn't," I said. "But I'm leaning more towards his going because I don't want to deny him closure. Maybe not for now but for later."
"It's a hard call. Yes, he should go. As you say, for closure. If not for now, for later. When I look at my broken arm, I can't believe this is all that happened to me. And you and Teddy with barely a scratch. Trent's lucky he's alive. And so are most of the passengers. I think we should take flowers, don't you?" Gladys said.
"Definitely. There is one thing though. I can't be in two places at once."
"Most people can't. In other words, you feel you should be with Trent and you should be at the memorial," Annie said.
"You read my mind, what there is left of it. I'm really torn," I admitted.
"If it makes you feel any better I've been torn in the same direction. Maybe I should be with Trent, too. Maybe we all should," Gladys acknowledged.
"But you should also be at the memorial. Why don't Gladys and I take Teddy to the memorial and you go to the hospital to be with Trent? How does that sound?" Annie suggested.
"It's the best idea so far. Makes sense," I said.
"Let's take flowers to the memorial. From each one of us," Gladys suggested. "We can pick them up on the way to Tempe. I'll be glad when this is over, to tell you girls the truth. I wish Trent was able to come with us, that all of us were going to be there together."
"The doctor says he isn't strong enough to go. Then too, there's the emotional impact. The man guarding him, the man attached to the other handcuff, was killed. It will be better for Trent if he watches it on TV," I suggested.
"With you holding his hand," Gladys said, her eyes sparkling.
"What did he say when you told him you're going to look for a house?" Annie asked, putting her feet on the coffee table.
"I haven't told him yet. I though I'd wait until we actually found something."
"What are you going to do with Cambridge Ranch?" Gladys asked, frowning at Annie's feet.
"I've been thinking, if the O'Hara's want to they could live here. As it is now, they live in Fountain Hills and have to make that long drive out here every day. It's just an idea," I admitted.
"You can ask them. What time is it? Shouldn't we be leaving in a few minutes? We don't want Teddy to be late for school," Gladys warned.
"Yes, let's go," Annie agreed, swinging her feet from the table.
"It's about time," Gladys commented.
"Come on, Teddy, time to leave for school. Get your stuff together, we're leaving," I hollered.
"When we move into Scottsdale I won't have to leave so early for school, will I?" Teddy asked, putting his arms through the straps of his red backpack.
"Right. We're going house-hunting again today. Hopefully, we'll find something we like. And I'm going to visit Trent. Do you want me to tell him anything?"
"Tell him I'm going to try out for soccer," Teddy said. "And Mom, are you going to buy us a house with a swimming pool?"
"I don't know. First I have to the house. A pool would be nice though. I suppose you want a pool, don't you, Teddy?" I asked, adjusting the straps on his pack.
"Yes. I could learn to swim."
"Come on, let's go," Gladys urged. "Everybody out and into the car."
"Keep your pants on," Annie said, swinging her car keys. "That is, if you're wearing any!"
"Annie, sometimes you can be so vulgar," Gladys scolded.
"I know, aren't I fun?" Annie spouted.
"You are, Annie, you are. You have a great sense of humor. I hope it lasts," I told her.
"Lasts? Why won't it?" Annie asked.
"I'll tell you about the scratch down the right side of your Caddy later," I told her as she locked the front door. "I don't want you to lose your sense of humor before we get Teddy to school."
Annie started to get out of the car to look at the scratch but changed her mind. "I'll look at it later. Right now I don't want to know how bad it is. Up ahead, isn't that a yellow car or truck coming? The O'Hara's, I think it's the O'Hara's."
"Yes, it is. Stop for a few minutes so I can talk to them," I said.
Annie's silver bullet slowed to a stop as the O'Hara's truck came along side.
I rolled down a window. "We're off to take Teddy to school. What about you two? What are you doing today?"
"We're quitting. We're sick and tired of driving out here. That Beeline highway is due for more construction. We've had it, Pen, sorry, but we've had it," Matt snarled.
"I may have the solution. How about living here? I think I'll move into Scottsdale."
"I dunno. I have a lady-friend in Fountain Hills," Tim said. "I don't think she'd like me living so far away from her."
"Yeah, Tim, and how long is this lady-friend stuff going to last? I think it's a great idea, us moving here. That is, if we can afford it," Matt said.
"I'll make you an offer you can't refuse. Think about it, Tim. We have to get going or Teddy will be late for school. Think about it. We'll talk later," I said, rolling up the window.
"Well, if that isn't timely. But if Tim has a lady-friend in Fountain Hills, he may not be interested in living this far away from her," Gladys figured.
"It's not only the distance, it's the hassle. You heard what Matt said about the construction. Enough to drive you nuts. Get it, 'drive you'," Annie said, laughing at her self.
"The Godfather clause. I'll have to come up with the Godfather clause," I confessed.
"Is he going to be a relative of mine, too?" Teddy asked.
"Sort of a kissing cousin," I told him.
"Like my cousin Randy? But I never see him," Teddy replied.
"You don't get to see Randy because his Mommy remarried and lives far away from us," I explained.
"Maybe I'll get to see more of the Godfather," Teddy said.
"Don't count on it, Teddy," Annie said.
"After we drop Teddy off at school, let's look for a Realtor. Might be better to have a Realtor instead of trying to find a house by ourselves," I said.
"Like Century 21? Do you know what area you want to live in?" Gladys asked.
"I've always liked McCormick Ranch and Gainey Ranch in Scottsdale. Trent's house is in Paradise Valley. Maybe I should consider Paradise Valley. You know, we really need to go through Ashley's stuff. Let's do that first," I suggested.
"You're worried, aren't you? About Trent and his case," Annie said.
"Very. If he'd hired Nick Huntleigh I'd feel better. But I'd still be worried. As it is, with him representing himself I don't see how on earth he can do justice to his own case."
"That's where we come in. Yes, let's make his house our first stop. We'll go through Ashley's things. Maybe we'll find something, some clue, who knows?" Gladys said hopefully.
"We're not going to be able to go through Ashley's things if I don't get her house key from the Porsche's glove compartment. Annie, I'm sorry, but you'll have to go back to the house," I complained.
"I think I am going to be late for school. Aren't I?" Teddy said.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, we have to go back so your Mommy can get that key," Annie remarked.
"I'll only be a minute. After I get the key why don't you go ahead? I'll drive the Porsche. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have two cars. I'll meet you at Teddy's school," I promised.
Just as I started the engine of the Porsche the phone rang. It was Nick Huntleigh.
Have lunch with him, help him convince Trent to take him back. I really didn't have time, I'd made my plans for the day. Well, alright, I'd meet him. At Chang's, near the Scottsdale Fashion Mall. At eleven. It would solve a lot of problems if Trent would come down off his high horse and allow Nick to represent him.
"Did Teddy want you to walk in with him?" I asked Gladys and Annie when we finally arrived at Saquaro Elementary.
"I don't think he wanted us to but we did anyway. He barely made it on time. And I forgot to give him any money," Annie groaned.
"I gave him money last night. I told him to put it in his book bag. There's a little pocket inside for money. So wipe that worried look off of your face, Annie. Teddy has his Auntie Gladys to take care of him," Gladys said with sarcasm.
"He's a kid who's loaded. I gave him money this morning."
"Lucky little guy. Where's Ashley's house? In Paradise Valley, wherever that is. I love the name. What street is the house on?" Annie asked.
I withdrew the house keys. "Trent told me it was on Wren Cove. Number One Wren Cove. I think I can find it. Do you want to follow me?"
"Can't we all go in one car to Ashley's house?" Annie asked.
"We could but Nick Huntleigh called and asked me to have lunch. He wants to talk about convincing Trent to reconsider and retain him. I'm to meet him at eleven."
"Nick Huntleigh? Eleven? That doesn't give us much time to search Ashley's house," Gladys complained.
"No, it doesn't. We'll just do the best we can. If we have to we can come back. Or I can come back."
"Let's go if we're going. I'll follow you, Pen. Watch for me in your rear view mirror. Oh, and one more thing," Annie said, helping Gladys in the car, "Nick Huntleigh is after your body. He's interested in getting Trent to reconsider but that's not his prime concern. Listen to your Annie. He's after your body, Pen. That's why you're so popular with him."
"There's no such thing as a free lunch," Gladys threw in.
I trembled as I turned the key in Trent's front door. Fan-shaped white wooden louvers shut any light from filtering in. "We need some light in here," I said, adjusted the slats of the louvers, revealing an elegant living room.
"I'll say one thing for Ashley. She sure has good taste," Gladys said with admiration.
"A little too elegant for me. No place to put your feet. But it is beautiful, I have to admit, it is beautiful," Annie offered. "Where should we look first?"
"The bedroom probably. If Ashley had hidden anything, the bedroom would be just the place," Gladys noted.
"This is even more elegant than the living room. Look at those windows," Gladys squealed. Ivory silk sheer panels crossed five huge windows looking out on a garden.
"Those draperies cost a fortune. Silk. And don't they blend beautifully with the comforter and bed-skirt?"
"I do admit this is a pretty room. I like the furniture," Annie agreed, pointing to the ivory stressed cabinets.
"Yes, Ashley had excellent taste. Let's each take a cabinet. I feel like a cat burglar," I confessed.
"Me too and I love it. But really, there's nothing here of Ashley's. This drawer is almost empty. What is here is men's stuff. Where are Ashley's things? Did Trent say?" Annie asked, closing the drawer.
"He said there were some boxes. Books and things like that. He got rid of Ashley's personal things. Or I guess he did," I said, hoping my voice didn't reveal the emotions I was feeling.
"Did Trent say where her books are? Or should we keep on with our cat burglary? Me, I'm enjoying this. I wish Trent hadn't gotten rid of her personal things. I'd just love to see her clothes. I bet she dressed to kill. I bet she was Neiman's, Nordstrom's, Saks -- labels, labels, labels," Annie said.
"I'm sure she was attractive. Trent likes attractive women. Not that I'm attractive -- but well -- you both know what I mean. The house is beautiful. More so than I expected."
"From the looks of her house, I'd say she dressed to the nines. But I doubt that she had a black dress like our Pen, the one you wore the other night. The one with no top. And if she did have a dress like that, I doubt she could fill it as well as you. You were overflowing."
"That dress almost got me in big trouble with Trent. He keeps asking me about the top. Or the lack of top. Teddy really painted a picture of it to Trent," I said, opening a closet door. "I wish I had a ladder, I'm too short to reach the shelves in here."
Annie came forward. "Call me your ladder for the day. Gladys, why don't you check out the kitchen? But be careful of that arm."
"Annie, you are so bossy," Gladys complained.
"I know it," Annie admitted, feeling around on the closest shelves. "Here, take these boxes I'm handing you," she told me.
Struggling with a pile of boxes I staggered to the bed. "Don't hand me so many at one time, Annie. You take some and I'll take some. Look through them very carefully. You might find something valuable to Trent's case."
"Like what? What am I looking for?" Annie grumbled.
"How about the poison? I'm only kidding. Trent said he kept a lot of Ashley's books. They're stored in the closet. He didn't say what closet. I forgot to wear my watch. What time is it?"
"Ten-thirty," Gladys said.
"Ten-thirty? I better go. It'll take me twenty minutes to drive to Chang's," I said.
"We'll have to come back to finish this."
"You'll barely have the time you need to primp for Nick," Gladys said, looking at her watch.
"My ammunition is at home. I'm certainly not very dressed up. His lunch date caught me by surprise. I wish I'd worn something besides jeans," I admitted.
"On you anything looks good," Annie complimented.
I started laughing. Trent would have said 'on or off'!
"What are you laughing about?" Glady's asked.
"I wouldn't answer that if I were you, Pen, " Annie suggested.
"You have a good point, Annie. Where shall I meet you girls and what time?"
"Well, Annie and I are going to have lunch someplace. And I'd love to get my hair done. I can't do it myself. Not with this arm," Gladys admitted.
"I think I'll have mine done, too. At the same time. What about the Realtor? And Teddy? He gets out of school at three-thirty. And Trent?" Annie said, helping Gladys walk.
"It's my arm, not my legs, Annie. I don't need help walking," Gladys shot out.
Annie released her. "Whatta grump."
"After lunch I'll go visit Trent. Then I'll contact a Realtor. I'll get some listings and we can go over them tonight. I'll pick up Teddy at three thirty," I told them.
"No, let us pick him up. We want to take him to the Sugar Bowl for a chocolate soda. And to Toys-R-Us, too," Annie added.
"I may need to borrow some money from one of you," Gladys admitted sheepishly.
"Sure, any amount. As long as you let me lead you around," Annie told her. "Say, do you have money problems?" she asked, searching Gladys' face.
"I'll tell you about them over lunch," Gladys said. "And I'm buying. With your money."
Annie helped Gladys into her Cherokee.
"I'll meet you at Cambridge Ranch," I yelled, waving to them. "Behave yourselves."
Scottsdale Fashion Square parking was at a premium. I tried valet first but was turned away. Even parking under the deserted Bullock's was filled. I circumvented the mall several times until finally a white Jeep backed out of a space by Dillard's.
Nick was waiting inside Chang's. As I approached he walked toward me, took my hand, then gathered me to him. "I was beginning to think you might not be coming," he said.
"Parking. I had a difficult time finding a parking space. Where did you park?"
"Across the street. It's Tuesday, coupon day for mall shoppers. One of the waitresses told me. That's why it's so crowded. Next time we have lunch I'll suggest a place that that has no parking problems. I thought you might enjoy Chinese food and Chang's has the best. I've all ready ordered. The ginger chicken and lemon peel shrimp. Our table's waiting for us," he said, reaching for my hand again and allowing me to precede him as our host led the way.
I said nothing about his holding my hand. I wanted to withdraw it. Why cause a scene? Besides, what harm is there in a little hand-holding?
"Have you spoken to Trent again about retaining you?" I asked, getting right down to business.
"No. I'm hoping you have some ideas about my approaching him on this. He's not easy to talk to. He's made up his mind that he's going to represent himself. Do you want hot tea?"
"Yes. I don't have any ideas about convincing Trent to retain you. None that I haven't already used. I was hoping you had some ideas! You're the lawyer."
Nick didn't reply. Their waiter had arrived with steamy dishes of food.
"Everything smells delicious."
"Doesn't it?" he agreed. "May I serve you?"
"Please do. As I said, you're the lawyer. Don't you have some clever ideas, tricks of the trade, to get Trent back into your camp? I don't see how he can possibly represent himself. Won't he be in jail? For murder one? And murder one doesn't allow bail, does it?"
"Where'd you hear that?"
"It doesn't, does it? There's no bail is there?"
"No. But I'm going to appeal for a lesser charge. Manslaughter. Trent can get out on bail if the charge is manslaughter."
"Trent knows this, I'm sure he knows this. He's just getting into criminal law. Have you been in it very long?"
"Five years or so. Actually, my practice is diversified. Unlimited. Trent's practice has been corporation law, taxes, charters, ethics and so on. He's bought the law firm. He intends to go into criminal law. But why am I telling you all this? You know more about what Trent's interests are than I do."
"I've heard if a lawyer represents himself has a fool for a client. I know Trent is no fool. Even so, I'm concerned, I'm worried. It seems to me he'd be taking on a great deal if he tries to represent himself. If you were in his shoes, would you represent yourself?"
"No, I wouldn't. And I'll tell you judges do not like it at all when lawyers represent themselves."
"Why not?"
"They feel it's a conflict of interests. It's almost like talking to yourself, about yourself, praising yourself on one hand and on the other hand you're saying he, not me."
"I understand what you mean. Are you going to talk to Trent again? I think I've said everything I can say. I believe it's up to you from now on. I wish I could be of more help but..."
"I'll call him. Now, about you and me. I'm delighted you agreed to have lunch with me. Sorry it had to be so early. Eleven is early to meet for lunch. But I have a client coming in at one. From Tucson. In fact, she was on your Pacific West flight. Head injury. You might have heard about her on TV. She overdosed on pain-killers and had to be taken to Tucson General. Cass Hinckley. She's coming in today for our appointment and staying in Scottsdale a few days. The memorial service for Pacific West is Thursday, isn't it?" Nick asked.
I kept my head down, my eyes glued to the ginger chicken. "Yes. The memorial is Thursday. Say, what time is it? I forgot to wear my watch."
"It's only eleven-forty. Where are you going? You haven't finished your lunch."
"I forgot. I have a hair appointment. I don't dare be late for it. Thanks for lunch. Good luck talking to Trent."
The gas gauge on the Porsche leveled at three-fourths full. That should be enough to get me to Tucson. With Cass in Scottsdale this was a perfect time to break and enter her house. That is, if I could find it. I wasn't familiar with Tucson and I didn't have a map. I'd buy one on the way or in Tucson. And I'd phone the city directory for Cass' address. I know phone books often omit certain numbers, unlisted ones, for example, but the city directory might have a listing. If not, I'd phone Tucson General, make up some story and get the information I needed. Now I had to call Trent and tell him why I wouldn't be visiting him this afternoon. And I'd call Gladys and Annie on Annie's cellular.
Trent's hospital line was busy the first few times. "Hi, I've been trying to reach you. For a sick man, you're very popular. Your line's been busy for ages. Yes, I did have lunch with Nick Huntleigh. Gladys told you? Talk about? You mostly. How we both wish you'd reconsider and let him represent you. You're being very unreasonable, Trent. Am I coming to see you? That's what I'm calling you about. No, I'm not. I'm..." I slammed the phone into its cradle. Trent had hung up on me. To hell with him. And darn that Gladys. Lunch with Nick hadn't meant anything, why did Gladys tell Trent about it?
I eased the car into the left lane to exit highway ten and enter Ina Road. Hopefully, I'd find a shop with maps for sale. Up ahead I saw a Circle K. I pulled into a parking spot and got the finger from a truck driver. He must think he owns the place. The clerk pointed me to a rack of maps.
"I need a Tucson phone book."
"In back, next to the pay phones," the clerk told me.
Cass was listed as C. Hinckley, 2829 Laurel Canyon. Opening the map, I fingered down until I located 'Laurel Canyon'.
"How far do you think Laurel Canyon is? According to the map it's close to Sunrise and Swan," I said to the clerk.
"About ten, twelve miles. Follow Ina. It curves east then south. Cut off at Skyline, then intersect Sunrise and Swan. Laurel Canyon is just past that..."
I thanked him, paid for the map, bought a coke and started for the door.
"Lady, you took my parking place," the man with the finger complained.
I parked several blocks from Cass' house. I didn't dare park too close. A neighbor might see Ashley's Porsche and remember it, mention it to Cass sometime. I walked to the back of the house. A five-foot wrought iron gate fenced off any entry. If only Annie was here. I could climb on Annie's back and jump inside the yard. I walked to the front of the house, eyeing the front door.
"Are you Miss Hinckley's new maid?"
"What?" I blurted. "What?"
"Are you the new maid? I'm Miss Hinckley's neighbor. I'm supposed to give you a key. I'm glad you showed up today. I'm leaving on vacation tomorrow morning and I've been watching for you, hoping I'd catch you before I left. I'm going to be gone three months, I'm visiting my children," she said, handing me a key. "As soon as you enter, press the security code or bells will start ringing. The code number is 721."
"Thanks. Have a great trip," I said, putting the key in the lock and twisting the knob.
"Oh, wait a minute. Where are your cleaning supplies?" the neighbor questioned.
"Miss Hinckley bought all new products. She's very particular. Wants me to use certain ones. Such a nice lady. I love working for her. Have a great trip," I repeated.
"I will. Don't work too hard."
What a stroke of luck. I can search to my heart's content. That is, if I can wade through this place. What a mess. Magazines, newspapers, books, clothing, coffee cups, and empty food cartons littered every room. Cass doesn't need a maid, she needs a plow. Searching this place was not going to be easy. And where to start...the bedrooms. I rummaged through drawer after drawer but found nothing of any interest or value. The medicine cabinets in both bathrooms were filled with bottle after bottle of medications. A curio held glassware and empty liquor bottles. I walked into the kitchen and walked right back out. There couldn't be any clues in that kitchen. A small room between the living room and the master bedroom appeared to be a den. A large TV set, a very worn leather chair and footstool. A long wall of bookshelves and storage units. The storage units held playing cards, boxes of stationery, letters, birthday and Christmas cards. I scanned the bookshelves. Reader's Digests, National Geographic, poetry, novels, how to books on self-improvement, how to gain friends, improve your personality, the way you walk, talk...handwriting. 'Change Your Handwriting and Change Your Life'. Change your handwriting. Handwriting. Ashley's suicide letter had been in her own handwriting. I opened the book and turned the pages. Many had been marked with notations, 'make a larger loop,' cross the small t higher up, underline heavy, place a small dot over. Stuck inside the book were several sheets of paper with Ashley Hinckley Summit written several times. Ashley Summit and Ashley had been written over and over. Notes adjacent to the names said the A is too large, make the big S lean farther to the right, cross both little t's at one time, trace the y.
Practice sheets, these were practice sheets. Cass had been practicing Ashley's handwriting. I replaced the sheets in the book and closed it. I searched through the storage unit looking for anything that had Cass' handwriting on it. I found a leather notebook with poems written for and by Cass Hinckley. I forced myself to return to the kitchen for a clean sack or bag of some kind but found nothing. I lifted my shirt and stuck the two books under it, hoping to hide them from view as I left the house. If only I had a jacket. But my jacket was in the car and the car was parked several blocks away. I could use a towel but a towel with the lumps from the books might appear suspicious, as if I was stealing something. I had no choice. I'd have to wrap the books in a jacket belonging to Cass. I took a jean jacket from a bedroom closet. At least it was in keeping with my jean skirt. Carrying the jacket with the hidden books inside, I locked the front door, put the key in my pocket and began walking toward my car.
"I can give you a lift. Are you through already?" the neighbor yelled through her open car window, pulling her car to the curb and stopping along side me.
"Thanks for the offer. No, I'm not finished. I just need a breather. Thought I'd take a little walk," I yelled back.
The neighbor waved and drove off. I increased my pace, anxious to get to the safety of my car. I'd barely positioned myself behind the wheel when I saw what looked like the neighbor's car coming toward me. I threw myself down on the front seat, wondering if my actions had been quick enough. I waited a few minutes, then drove away. On the floor beside me was Cass' jean jacket with the two books wrapped inside. Books that might hold proof of Trent's innocence.
I drove straight to Scottsdale North from Tucson. No one was home when I phoned Cambridge Ranch so I left a message.
"Cass forged Ashley's suicide letter. Look," I said," as I entered Trent's room and handed him the two books.
"Forgery? Handwriting?"
"I drove to Tucson. Got inside Cass' house. Look, Cass was practicing Ashley's handwriting so she could forge it. She wrote that suicide note. When the note's examined by a Graphologist her forgery will be revealed. She killed Ashley. For the insurance proceeds. Ashley fouled her up by leaving it all to you. The only way Cass could get the money now was to have you convicted of Ashley's death. You can't inherit if you killed her. She's next in line. What was the date on her suicide note and where's the note? Cass' forged note? When did Ashley die? What was the date and the time?"
"The date on the suicide note was June sixth. Ashley died June seventh at noon. The suicide note? I threw it away. It broke my heart. So I threw it away," Trent said.
"You're dead. We don't have any evidence to compare with Cass' practice sheets. They don't mean a thing. I'm going home. I've had a long day."
"Don't leave."
"I'll be back tomorrow," I promised, picking up the books, not bothering to hide my despair.
Now what? Cass had evidence of some kind, which must be damaging or she wouldn't have called the police about Trent. Probably forged evidence but the police would accept it. Trent was as good as convicted. Without that suicide note he was as good as convicted. The music on the car radio made me crazy as I drove home. I wasn't in the mood for this new age stuff with its thumping. But the thumping still blared when I turned the radio off. A flat tire, I had a flat tire. Just what I didn't need. I activated the emergency lights, pulled to the side of Shea, praying the policeman behind me would stop.
"What's your trouble? Oh, a flat tire. I'll fix it for you, miss," he offered, climbing from his squad car. "Give me your tire key."
"Tire key?"
"Porsche's have a special tire key. It's probably in your glove compartment. Small, black, L shaped."
"Is this it? Oh, my God!"
"Yes, that's it. Is anything wrong?"
"No," I said, handing him the key with one hand and holding an envelope with the other. The envelope was addressed Trent. I was shaking as I opened it. Inside were two handwritten notes:
'Trent,
I can't live without you. I'm putting poison in my Sweet 'n Low packets and will use some in my coffee. Now. Today. I know this is a coward's way out. I love you.'
It was signed Ashley. The date was June sixth.
The second note read:
'Trent darling,
Yesterday I wrote you a suicide note. I'd planned to kill myself with poison in my Sweet 'n Low packets. But I've changed my mind. I want to go on living. Even without you, Trent, I want to live. I'll make a new life. I love you.' It was signed Ashley. Its date was June seventh, eleven a.m.
"It must feel wonderful to know you're free, Trent," Annie said, as she helped Gladys put on her shoes. "We're not real sure just how this all unraveled. And can you believe our Pen, driving to Tucson and getting inside Cass' house posing as a maid?"
"I can believe it. When it comes to Pen I can believe anything. Yes, it feels wonderful to be free. Not only for my sake, but for Pen's. If it weren't for her I doubt Cass would have confessed that she poisoned Ashley. Cass saw her chance to kill Ashley when Ashley showed her the suicide note she'd written and said that she'd put poison in the Sweet 'n Low packets, intending to stir some into her own coffee. She'd told Cass about her three million dollar life insurance policy. Cass thought Ashley had named her as the beneficiary. Then to Cass' dismay Ashley told her she'd changed her mind about killing herself, that she wanted to live. Cass figured she'd thrown the suicide note away so she forged one. What Ashley didn't tell her was she'd put her suicide note along with a new note, the one saying she wanted to live and wasn't going to commit suicide, in the glove compartment of her Porsche. Ashley had dumped the Sweet 'n Low packets with the poison in the trash. Cass retrieved them, replaced them in Ashley's sugar bowl. She put the forged note along side.
"She'd been practicing Ashley's handwriting for a long time so she could write checks, use Ashley's credit cards. Now she figured she could have more, much more. Three million. She tried to kill Pen for two reasons. One because Trent was in love with Pen and not with Ashley. If this doesn't make sense keep in mind that blood is thicker than water. Sisters are sisters. In this case twins. Identical twins. The other reason she tried to kill Pen is because she wanted the law to believe I did it, to make Ashley's death seem like I murdered her. The Vancouver police have an eyewitness that Cass was there. She didn't pay for a carry-out order from a cafe down the street from the Gull. The owner remembers her well. His place had a water leak, the cafe was a mess but she insisted he fix her breakfast. On top of that, she didn't pay for it.
"Get this: Nick Huntleigh wants to represent her. She has no money but he'll cut a deal with her for the publicity, the book rights. He's a clever guy. Not a nice guy. But clever. Who knows, maybe he'll get her off."
"I'm glad you're taking over our Pacific West case. I never did trust that Nick Huntleigh," Gladys admitted.
"After I borrowed your phone book and Simon's permit? And lied to you? You trust me to represent you?" Trent joked.
"Sure. After all, you were a priest for a day."
"The O' Haras really like my Godfather clause," I said.
"How could they refuse? Live free at Cambridge Ranch. Half ownership of the company. Tim's lady-friend has a sister for Matt and they love the idea of all living out in the boonies together. What's not to like?" Annie asked.
"We still have to find Teddy and me a new house. Meanwhile we're going to live with Trent. You and Gladys, too. I thought it would bother me to live in that house. And in a way it will. But it won't be for too long. And it does have a pool for Teddy."
"Gladys will be overjoyed. She's nuts about the interior decorating. I don't want to say the word Ashley but I have to. Ashley's decorating," Annie said.
"Trent told me about that when I commented on it. He did it. He did the decorating."
"Did he? I'm impressed and I know Gladys will be when I tell her. Speaking of decorating, I asked Gladys about her place in Vancouver. The Gull Inn. Nice name. From what she's told me, it must be lovely. I asked her why it didn't go over too well. She said only some of the townspeople really cared about it anymore. She traded pies and cookies for repairs, painting. But sometimes this didn't pan out, no pun intended. People would start a job and then not come back. At the Gull there's no cable TV, no food allowed upstairs, no children, no singles, and no hot tub. And no feet on the furniture. I've loaned her the money to pay her back mortgage payments. She's going to put the Gull on the market. She'll get that airline settlement someday. Meanwhile she has her Annie. And I have her. I think I'll sell Annie's Forever. Gladys and I know you want us to live with you and Trent and Teddy and we like the idea. For awhile. Until we get a place of our own. The three of you should be just the three of you. When we have our place you can leave Teddy with us. You and Trent can do whatever your naughty little hormones tell you! You can run around naked..."
***
"Did you know we've all been asked to appear on Oprah and Rosie? The View. Maybe Geraldo. Larry King. And write a book," Annie exclaimed, as she handed Trent a dish of peach cobbler.
"Yes, so I've been told. Sounds terrific. This cobbler is delicious. Gladys has outdone herself. I suppose I can have seconds?"
"Sure you can."
"I'm glad you and Gladys are going to live in Scottsdale," Trent said.
"Yes, well, you need two old broads like us," Annie said. "We love taking care of Teddy. But we don't want him to take that school bus. He insists he can and will. So he's going to take the bus and we're going to meet him at the other end to be sure he's okay. He was impressed with the memorial service. It was beautiful, wasn't it? We were sorry you and Pen weren't with us, that you had to watch it on TV. But it was best for you, Trent. None of us will ever forget it. Or what happened. Teddy put his flowers right alongside ours. He waved at the TV cameras, hoping you and Pen might see him from your hospital room."
"I thought I saw a little blond boy waving at us," Trent said.
"Gladys' arm is killing her. She's lying down. She and Teddy. After they get up we're going to a movie and have dinner someplace. Do you and Pen want to go?" Annie asked.
"No, I know Pen doesn't want to go. She's engrossed in a romance novel. I don't want to go either," Trent replied.
"She loves to read romance novels, doesn't she? Well, we'll go and leave you two alone in the house," Annie said, with a grin.
"Alone? Alone is good, we can do 'alone'. Stay for a double feature."
"What happened that woman PI in Vancouver?" I asked, laying aside the book I was absorbed in.
"How's the book? That's quite a cover! Big breasts, wild hair, bare-chested men. Sully? I faxed a termination notice to her. She wasn't much good, was she? Speaking of PI's, I got a letter from my buddy, Charlie. Your Chan, my Wong. He's on a case in Hong Kong. Involves a woman named Jadepearl. Quite a beauty. She came from the boat people, was stolen, met the owner of a string of whore-houses. She became his trinket, his kickshaw, as she's called. He fell in love with her. Now she owns a house, the largest fashion house in the Orient," Trent commented. "We should go to Hong Kong someday. I faxed Charlie about our getting Teddy back. About Jeff and Muriel."
"I'd love to see Hong Kong. Jadepearl. Beautiful name. Well, it's certainly helped our case that Jeff and Muriel have admitted they kidnapped Teddy. Muriel had a little boy. He died years ago, when he was four. When she saw Teddy walking on the highway after the explosion she figured he was her gift from God. She made Jeff pick him up. Finders-keepers. Those affidavits I signed, is that all I have to do? Don't I have to testify?" I asked.
"Those affidavits are your testimony. It's over for you."
"I can't help but feel sorry for Muriel. I think she loved Teddy."
"In her own way. But she stole him from you. Remember your heartache, Teddy's fears and loneliness."
"A couple of talk shows want us to appear."
"Annie told me. That's fine, but they'll have to wait until we get back."
"Get back?"
"From Hawaii. From our honeymoon."
"From Hawaii. From our honeymoon?"
"Yes. Annie and Gladys are taking care of our son, Teddy Summit."
"How long have you known? Do you hate me?"
"I think I've known since the moment we started looking for him. A feeling I had inside."
"You mean like a mother's heart?"
"Must be. A father's heart."
"Do you hate me for marrying Steve? For not telling you about Teddy?"
"I could never hate you. I'm to blame as much as you are for your marrying Steve. For your not telling me."
"I hated you when I found out I was pregnant. Remember, we were talking, just making conversation, you said you didn't want children. So I married Steve for convenience. Sometimes I think he knew. But I can't be sure. He loved me when we got married. I didn't love him. I wanted to love him but I was too full of hate. After Teddy died, I hated you. I wanted to kill you. I planned to kill you. When I phoned you, asked you to help me financially I knew about The Agreement. I had an idea you'd suggest it. I had it all figured out. The Agreement. The money, you dead. Money and revenge. What I hadn't figured on was Annie. Finding Teddy. You helping me find him. Or my falling in love with you all over again. We'll have to tell Teddy that you're his father. He deserves to know."
"Yes, we'll tell him. You and I will tell him."
"We've lost a lot of years together, you and I, the three of us."
"We can't get them back. What's done is done. If we look back we'll only hurt one another. Let's look ahead."
"Together."
"Together," he whispered, reaching under my skirt and fingering my panties.
"You were magnificent as a priest. You really turned me on. I felt absolutely immoral."
"We talked about my anointing you all over. Do you...?"
I pulled him into me, opened his zipper, caressed his hardness. My lips and tongue took his.
Bless me.
To learn about other books Awe-Struck publishes, go to the Awe-Struck E-Books website at http://www.awe-struck.net/