Elizabeth C. Main - Jane Serrano 01 - Murder of the Month (18 page)

Tyler and Minnie nodded in agreement. The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder facing me like an amateur modern version of
The Three Musketeers
. They might lack finesse, but they were gutsy and loyal. Besides, they were all I had.

Twenty minutes later I settled onto my living room couch and emptied my mind of everything but the next step. If and when I finally worked up the courage to punch in the number of the Russell County District Attorney’s office, I didn’t want any trace of anxiety to sound in my voice. I breathed in and out deeply several times, making use of the relaxation techniques Bianca was always urging on me.

I had insisted that my co-conspirators remain out of earshot in the kitchen while I made the call. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee now told me that Minnie would keep Tyler and Alix occupied by serving the coffee with the snickerdoodles she had thoughtfully tucked into her oversized knitting bag this morning. No, probably she would insist that Tyler drink a big glass of milk instead. She seemed to think it quite normal to bake cookies before breakfast so they’d be fresh for her meeting. Not only had the Knitwits lost their cable stitch instructor, they had also lost their snickerdoodles.

Dragging my chaotic thoughts back to the task at hand, I closed my eyes and tried to think like a con artist. Nothing came to me. Then I tried to think like the most cynical person I knew: Alix. That did it. I knew just how to proceed, so I placed the call. Waiting for Gil’s secretary to answer, I counted the rings to distract me from the nagging of my conscience. I promised myself I’d return to my usual law-abiding tendencies after I found my daughter.

“
Good morning,” I said briskly. “This is Sandra Samuels calling Gilbert Fortune from the Oregon Department of Justice, Fraud and Abuse Division. To whom am I speaking, please?”

“Frances Norris, Mr. Fortune’s secretary.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That matches our information. We’re doing a routine check of time management and—”

“
Do you wish to speak with Mr. Fortune?”

“
That won’t be necessary,” I said, as my heart rate jumped. “I’m sure you can give me the answers just as well.”

“
Oh, good, because he’s attending a noon Rotary meeting in Sisters.”

I checked my watch. Perfect. We had plenty of time. I continued with my cover story. “You are Mr. Fortune’s confidential secretary? You manage his schedule?”

“
Yes, of course. Look, Ms. Samuels, is there something wrong? Maybe I’d better check with Mr. Fortune—”

I forced a laugh through my rapidly constricting windpipe. “No, nothing wrong, at least not in Russell County. It’s just that … and I’m sure I can rely on your discretion in this matter … some district attorneys have been using work time to conduct personal business and—”

“
Mr. Fortune is absolutely scrupulous abut separating his work from his personal activities.”

“
Exactly. That’s our information, too, but you understand that we have to check with all the counties before issuing—”

“
You’re talking about the Grant County D.A., aren’t you?”

“
I really can’t say,” I murmured, “and I must ask you to keep this call to yourself, at least until the news breaks.”

“
Of course. You be sure to check out Phil Tanaway in Harney County, too, while you’re at it.” Apparently Gil’s loyal secretary wasn’t above a little gossip.

“
Sorry, I can’t say more, but … very soon.” I rustled the pages of yesterday’s
Juniper Journal
for effect. If I didn’t redirect this conversation fast, Ms. Norris’s fertile imagination would indict half the district attorneys in the state. “Tell me about … oh … let me pick a day at random, Ms. Norris—”

“
Call me Frances.”

“Frances, then, thank you.” This was going better than expected. Maybe I had an unexpected flair for deception. “Well, Frances, how about Wednesday, August eighth?”

Frances gasped. “That was the day Gil’s wife died.”

“Oh, what an unfortunate choice, but it will do just fine for our spot check. Our records show that Mr. Fortune was out of the office on personal business for most of the day. Is that correct?”

“
Yes, it is. He used his own car, signed out for the hours he planned to be gone, everything.”

“
He sets a fine example.”

“
He’s wonderful. We’re hoping he’s going to be the next Attorney General of Oregon, you know.”

“
Sounds as though he already has your endorsement. So, Frances, let’s just get the details and I’ll let you get back to work. With all the recent growth in Russell County, you must be pretty busy.”

“
We certainly are.” Frances lowered her voice. “I really don’t know how Gil’s kept going, in spite of everything. With the news coverage and all, I guess everyone in the state knows—”

“Yes, such a sad situation. The poor man must be devastated. Now, about that day—”

“
Let’s see. He left here about ten, signed out for a realtor’s open house on a place that he and his wife were thinking of buying. Isn’t that sad? He was there when he heard the news of her death. Naturally, he didn’t return to the office, so that’s about all I can tell you. Will that help?”

“
More than you know,” I said sincerely. Now that I knew Gil’s whereabouts, all I wanted was to end this conversation. “Thanks again for everything, Frances. Remember, mum’s the word.”

“It’s Jim Farber in Gilliam County, too, right?”

“Frances, you’re a shrewd one,” I said, and hung up.

As the others clambered out of my Volvo, parked on the far side of the field behind Gil’s house, I sat for a moment behind the steering wheel. Just how crazy were we to be here?

Tyler appeared at my window. “Are you all right?”

I managed an imitation smile. “Fine.” I climbed out of the car and pulled on a pair of black gloves that were way too hot for this summer day.

“
You look kinda green.”

“
Nope. I’m fine.”

“
Are you sure I—”

“
We already settled this, Tyler.” I didn’t intend to add a charge of corrupting a minor to my already-overburdened conscience. It was bad enough that he was even here. For the first time, I was glad that Laurence was in the hospital so I wouldn’t have to face him. To soften the blow to Tyler’s sense of manliness at being left behind, I repeated my strongest argument. “Your grandfather doesn’t need the emotional stress of having you commit a felony, or whatever this is. Remember though, you’re our lookout.”

“Your daughters wouldn’t approve of what you’re doing either,” he grumbled.

“
That’s right,” I agreed. “They probably wouldn’t even bail me out.”

“
Do you suppose the Knitwits would bail Minnie out?” he asked.

“
Depends on how desperate they are to learn that cable stitch. Just do your job and nobody will have to bail anybody out.”

The waving crop of alfalfa didn’t provide much cover, but it smelled good. No other houses were near enough to make detection by a curious neighbor a problem.

Minnie had underscored the seriousness of our venture by discarding her trademark floppy hat in favor of a black knit watch cap from my hall closet. A muted paisley scarf was slung over one shoulder. Alix was her usual elegant self in a sleek black tank top and matching capri pants. Just what was the proper attire for housebreaking? Tyler and I looked remarkably nondescript in shorts and tee shirts next to the other two.

“
You didn’t tell Gil’s secretary who you were, did you?” Minnie was having second thoughts.

Alix said, “She even asked Gil’s permission to search his house.”

“
You didn’t!” Minnie’s mouth dropped open. “That’ll spoil everything.”

“
She’s joking,” I said.

Minnie clapped a hand over her heart. “My stars! Don’t do that, not at a time like this.”

I started across the field, with Alix and Tyler beside me. Minnie hung back.

“
Shouldn’t we crawl?” she asked.

“
You can if you want,” Alix said over her shoulder, “but Gil’s not home, so I’m walking.”

“
It doesn’t seem right,” Minnie mumbled as she fell into step beside Tyler. “Where are you going to be?” she asked him.

“
Somewhere I can watch both the driveway and the road in front. That’s where the cops’ll come from if there’s an alarm or something.”

“
An alarm. I hadn’t thought of that. How can we tell, Jane?”

I shrugged. “Have to get up close and look, I guess.”

“
Oh, dear. I don’t like the idea of an alarm.”

“
Didn’t you bring your bolt cutters, Minnie?” Alix asked.

“
I did,” announced Tyler, holding up a wicked looking implement.

Minnie was shocked. “We’re not common vandals.”

I stopped and faced her. “Look, the truth is that we might have to do some damage to get into the house.”

“
Did you think Gil would leave the key under the welcome mat for us?” Alix asked.

“
Well, no,” Minnie said, “but—”

“
Stay out here if you want,” I said. “At this point I’m not going to worry about breaking a pane of glass.” I turned on my heel and marched toward the house.

“
For heaven’s sake, Jane, let me finish.” Minnie trotted along behind me as fast as she could, catching up just as I reached the back door. “That’s not what I meant at all. I simply don’t see the need for violence.”

She pulled a crochet hook out of her pocket. Bending to the lock, she inserted the pointed end and twisted. The door swung open. “See?”

“
Cool!” Tyler breathed. “Where’d you learn that?”

“
After I locked myself out of the house a time or two, I figured it out.”

“
Why don’t you just hide a spare key to your house?” Tyler wanted to know.

“
Why, bless your heart. That’s a good idea,” Minnie said, “but not nearly as much fun.”

“
I know what you mean,” Alix said, pulling a slim black implement out of her pocket and holding it up for inspection. “Not
all
of my encounters with the police have been unproductive.”

“
Wow!” Tyler exclaimed. “What’s that?”

“
Picklock, “Alix said. “A detective I once dated gave me this instead of flowers.” Her sly smile indicated that he had made a wise choice. “Showed me how to use it, too.”

Minnie and Tyler crowded close. Minnie showed a professional interest in the slightly different shapes of their respective housebreaking implements, and Tyler was fascinated. I’d certainly led a sheltered life. How had I gotten mixed up with these people?

“
C’mon. Let’s get this done,” I urged. “Tyler, let us know if you hear anything, but don’t come inside.”

The cool interior of the house stood in stark contrast to the heat of the summer afternoon. Our stealthy footsteps provided the only sound as we tiptoed into the back entry hall and on through the kitchen. I surveyed with surprise the sleek granite counter tops, the glass-fronted cupboards filled with crystal, and the oversized gas range. How could Gil afford all this on his salary? Tony’s career as a civil engineer had provided us with a comfortable standard of living, but our blue-and-white farm kitchen was more suited to toasted cheese sandwiches served on paper towels than the elegant dinner parties that went with this set-up.

Poor Vanessa. Her state-of-the-art kitchen hadn’t done her much good. I felt a twinge of guilt that I had all but forgotten about her death in the confusion following Bianca’s disappearance. Now, surrounded by the emptiness of what had so recently been a showcase home for the seemingly ideal couple, I felt a renewed sense of sadness for Vanessa. Had she been murdered? If so, would we ever be able to prove it? Only Bianca had even thought to raise the question.

I caught my breath at the sudden fear that Bianca might disappear with just as much ambiguity. No. That wasn’t going to happen. I would find her.

I wandered around the kitchen, wondering what to look for. The clues unearthed by the dog detectives in
Prove It, Puppy!
were totally unrealistic. Besides, all I had in real life was poor one-eyed Wendell, who was presently recuperating at the High Desert Animal Clinic. Even had he been here, I suspected he’d be more interested in the shiny metal kitchen garbage container than anything else. On a whim, I stepped on the foot pedal and glanced at the sack inside, but found only the remains of a T-bone steak dinner. In the midst of his supposed grief, Gil was eating well.

Leaving Minnie to explore the kitchen further, Alix and I went through the living room and into the bedroom wing. While Alix checked out the spare rooms, I ventured into the master bedroom and to the bath beyond, opening cupboards at random, but finding nothing of interest.

Apparently Alix and Minnie were having the same experience. We all arrived simultaneously in the living room and turned, as one, to gaze at the professional portrait of Vanessa on the wall. Serene and lovely, she looked out at us from a rose garden. The picture must have been painted elsewhere, since the roses didn’t appear frostbitten. Juniper’s capricious summer night-time temperatures played havoc with gardens.