Elaine Orr - Jolie Gentil 05 - Trouble on the Doorstep (18 page)

“HOW NICE TO SEE you, Jolie.” He said this as if he’d run into me at Java Jolt.

“Can’t say the same,” I said, and stayed wedged in the closet.

“You can come out. I can assure you I’m not some kind of thug who means you harm.”

I walked out and looked at the second person.
I thought he was on the maintenance staff at Silver Times, but wasn’t sure. I had a vague memory of him putting kitty litter on some of the hot dog residue at the end of the contest.

“What do you want?” I asked.

Brennan gestured that I should sit in Harry’s desk chair.
I was glad to, as I was almost shaking. As soon as I sat I regretted it. Brennan towered over me.

He perched on the edge of the desk.
“Since your boyfriend hasn’t run a story about our bidding process, I assume you have not given him whatever notes you took when you made your unannounced visit to my file cabinets a few nights ago.”

Damn, there must be a camera in the office.
How could I have missed that?

“I gave them to George.”
I said this very quickly. If my face was as red as it felt, he’d know I was lying.

“Highly unlikely,” he said, dryly.
“George Winters never called me. If you’d given him your notes he would have at least called with another banal set of questions.”

“You’ll have to talk to him about what he’s working on.”
I stared directly into Brennan’s eyes and willed myself not to blink.

He stood and nodded toward my purse.
“Look in there,” he said, to the young man.

“I’m not touching anything.
You do it.”

Brennan gave him a harsh look and walked to the table.
“No one is going to look for our fingerprints because she isn’t going to want to admit that she broke into my office.”

“Technically I didn’t
break
in.” He first pulled my small makeup case and wallet from my purse, followed by a small baggie of dog biscuits and, finally, the folded notes I’d made in the small room in his office.

“Break in, sneak in, I’m sure the police won’t quibble when they put the handcuffs on you.”
He slowly looked at each page of my sloppy writing. “Did you make any copies of this material?”

There was no point in pretending, so I just shook my head and wished I had made copies.

He turned to the younger man. “We won’t need your skills to get out.” He pointed toward the general area of the back door and walked into the hall without saying anything else. His companion glanced at me, and it almost seemed he was going to say something, but he didn’t.

When I heard them close the back door I leaned back in Harry’s chair and shut my eyes.
You can’t say a damn thing to anyone because he probably could get you arrested
.

The phone rang and I jumped almost an inch off the chair.
“Steele Appraisals.”

“Jolie?
“Hi, it’s Dana Johnson. Did you just dial 9-1-1?” she asked.

No point in lying.
“I did, but it was a mistake.”

“A mistake.”
She apparently said this to someone she was standing near, as she had taken her mouth away from the receiver.

“I came into Harry’s office and the back door was open.
I thought someone might be in here, but…”

“I’ll be right there.”
She hung up.

“Nuts.”
I turned on my phone. There were two calls from an unidentified number, which I took to be the police station.

I stood slowly and walked to the front door, and opened it, so I could look out the storm door.
I put my head against the door glass and enjoyed the coldness.
What are you going to tell Dana
?

She pulled up less than a minute later, thankfully without sirens blaring.
When she saw me at the door she took her phone off her belt and talked into in for a second, and then came onto the porch.

“Since you were in the door I could see you weren’t hurt,” she said, as I let her in.

“Do you always make house calls?” I asked.

“Only to people who’ve been knocked down in their back yard and had someone murdered in their kitchen,” she said, as she glanced around.
She turned back to me. “Really, why did you call?”

I like Dana.
If I’d run into her off duty I might even be tempted to tell her Brennan and company had apparently picked the lock in the back and invited themselves in. But she’d have to tell Morehouse and, even worse, George would get wind of it.

I gestured down the hall and started walking to Harry’s kitchen in the back of the house.
“The door was open. I was afraid someone had broken in. But they obviously didn’t.”

“Obviously how?” she asked, her eyes sweeping the neat kitchen.

“The computers are still here, and Harry’s TV. He must not have locked the door.”

“Doors don’t open on their own.
Did you check upstairs?”

I shook my head.
“I’ve never even been up there. He’s still working on it.”

“Stay here.”
She unholstered her gun and walked toward the large center staircase. “If you hear a boom, call 9-1-1 again.”

I followed her slowly and stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened to her walk through the second floor and open closet doors.
Harry’s going to kill me
.

She kept her gaze on me all the way down the stairs.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“When I realized I probably didn’t need 9-1-1, I canceled the call.
You know, by hitting the off button. I didn’t know I pushed it so hard that it turned off the phone.”

She stood with her hand on the doorknob and regarded me.
“I don’t believe you, but you look okay. You know that story about the boy who called wolf, don’t you?”

I nodded.
“I promise, if I call again it won’t be a false alarm.”

She nodded and left and I shut the front door.
Maybe I could just move. Then I wouldn’t have to tell George I’d had the bid information and been forced to give it back to Fred Brennan.

I PROBABLY SHOULD have moved. One of Scoobie’s classmates dropped him at the Cozy Corner. When he came into the great room I knew he wasn’t going to let me off the proverbial hook.

“See, the way I know you’re hiding something is you act nonchalant.
You aren’t a nonchalant person, Jolie.”

“Hello to you, too.
How were your classes?” I asked.

“Dana called me,” he said.

I jumped off the loveseat. “She had no business doing that! I’m not some kid who has to be minded.” When Scoobie just stared at me, I sat back down and leaned back. Jazz jumped from the floor to the back of the loveseat and tried to climb onto my neck.

Scoobie sat in one of the chairs across from me.
“Why did you call 9-1-1?”

“I heard someone coming in the back of Harry’s house, and since Harry’s on an ocean somewhere, I knew it wasn’t him.”

“Mediterranean Sea at the moment. Who was it?”

“Whatever.”
I stared at Scoobie for a couple of seconds. “Fred Brennan and some jerk maintenance guy from Silver Times.”

“Why would Fred Brennan look for you?”
Scoobie was looking more relaxed. Apparently he didn’t consider Brennan a threat.

“He was looking for something.”

“Cut it out, Jolie! Something frightened you. What was it? And how did he get in without you letting them in?”

“My guess would be that the guy with him has some lock-picking skills.”

“Now answer my other question,” Scoobie said.

I rested my head on the back of the loveseat and Jazz swatted my head before she jumped down to the floor.
“It’s complicated.”

“So, talk slowly,” Scoobie said, speaking like a vinyl record on the wrong speed.

“Brennan knows that I’m, uh, interested in the bid that Nat Markham made, and he wanted to talk about it.”

“Bull,” Scoobie said.

“He knows that I actually saw what Nat Markham gave them.”

He frowned, “George said it’s not public info.”

“George would be right. I looked in Brennan’s file drawer.”

“Who let you do that?” Scoobie asked.

“I think ‘let’ would not be the right word.”

“You what, broke in?”

“No. I kind of stayed in.” I told Scoobie what I had done, and he didn’t change his expression for even a second as he listened to me.

“Why didn’t you tell that to Dana?” he asked, after staring at me for a few seconds.

“Because then I’d have to say I stole the information. And I think Brennan has it on his security tapes.”

“What did George say?” he asked.

“He doesn’t know.”

“Maybe he can pressure Brennan to…Wait, you mean he doesn’t even know you had the numbers?”

My expression probably was enough of an answer. “I didn’t see him right away, and I knew he’d be mad about how I got them, and then, well, then it was too long…” I didn’t bother to finish the sentence.

Scoobie sighed.
“You gotta tell him. The only reason he hasn’t figured out you’re keeping something to yourself is because he hasn’t known you as long as I have.”

I shook my head.
“I’d never hear the end of it, and he’d be really mad that I didn’t tell him right away.”

“Not as mad as he would be if he heard it from someone else.”

I KNEW SCOOBIE was right. George had spent the night last night, but I just couldn’t work up the nerve to tell him. Really, there was no way he could know I had had the information. Fred Brennan wasn’t going to tell him.
Why make George mad?

The lone guest had checked out and I was finishing the breakfast dishes when I remembered that Nat Markham had said that Lance Wilson had gotten the board to put a hold on awarding the contract.
I didn’t really want to drive out to Silver Times to talk to him.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee at Java Jolt?” I asked, when Lance picked up his phone.

“Kind of cold for these old bones to drive into town. Why don’t you come out here?”

“I’m pretty
much
persona non grata
out there,” I said.

He gave a small chuckle.
“That would make us quite the pair.”

“How about if I pick you up, so you’re getting into a warm car?”

“I can’t talk you into a cup of coffee out here?” he asked.

“I wasn’t kidding.
I think Brennan would throw me out.”

“Good for you.
What time are you picking me up?”

JAVA JOLT ISN’T really a good place for a quiet conversation. It’s quiet enough, but it’s so quiet people can overhear you pretty easily. But George is all over town all day, and I figured it would be really odd if I ran into him someplace I don’t usually go. He really shouldn’t have such a suspicious nature.

We talked only about Harvest for All as we drove into town.
It wasn’t until we had our coffee and were settled that Lance said, “I take it you heard that I talked to a couple of people on the board.”

“I did.
Good for you.”

“And you’re wondering if they asked why I would have a clue that the bidding process might have been bupkes.”
He said this as a statement, not a question.

“I know you wouldn’t confess to my pilfering,” I said.
“But yes, I did wonder how you did it.”

“It wasn’t as hard as you might think.
One of the board members lives across the hall, and I just asked him how they knew they were getting the best price. He said he and one of the others, Margo, the dietician, I think, had talked about that.” Lance gave me a slow smile. “So I just said that after all those years working as an accountant I took fiduciary responsibilities way too seriously, and he probably had nothing to worry about.”

I laughed.
“You dog. But why did Nat Markham say you placed a hold on things?”

“My neighbor is not a brave man.
He said I asked him a lot of questions and it made him think about whether they were getting the work done for a fair price.”

“And they’re going to hold up the contract for a couple of weeks or something?”

“I doubt that long,” he said. “I’m sure your friend George will be out there asking questions. Maybe you can join him.”

“Nope.” I told him about Fred Brennan’s visit to Harry’s office.

He gave a low whistle. “I never thought of him as gutsy. Or stupid.”

“I’m the one who was stupid.
What was I thinking, sneaking into his office and copying from those files?”

“Not stupid, but not cautious either.”
He swirled his coffee with a spoon. “Brennan doesn’t know that you have Steve Oliver’s bid information. He also doesn’t know what a good memory I have.”

“You remember all those numbers I showed you?” I asked.

“No, but I did write a couple pages of notes after you left. If they try a switcheroo I’ll find a way to mention other dollar amounts that Markham Construction put in.”

“That’s terrific.
Now what?”

“Now you give me Steve Oliver’s information — a copy, please, not the original — and I attend a special meeting of the board that is open to residents.
This evening.”

“Tonight?
How will people even know about it?” I asked.

“Surely you don’t think Hank Bauer would let this pass without telling everyone in the complex.”

SINCE THE MEETING was open to all residents, George was going.
He tried to talk me into going with him, but I thought that would be pushing any luck I had. I said I had to clean the house because Aunt Madge and Harry would be home on Monday. He was actually pleased that I didn’t want to go and left to work on another story before heading out to Silver Times.

Cleaning didn’t keep me from worrying about whether Brennan would drop some kind of hint that would let George know I had been keeping something important from him.
I stopped in the middle of emptying the vacuum bag. I could almost hear Scoobie or George asking me if I realized the world didn’t revolve around me.
What else am I going to think about?

Just before I turned on the vacuum the doorbell rang. Mister Rogers beat me to the front door and Miss Piggy barked from her spot on the rug by the sliding glass door.
I hoped that when Aunt Madge got home the dogs would remember they weren’t supposed to run to the door.

“Good afternoon, Jolie. May I come in?”

Andrew Markham was the last person I expected to see on the doorstep. But there he stood, in an expensive camel hair coat and handsome scarf. “What is it, Mr. Markham?” I didn’t move to let him in.

“I wanted to ask your consideration for my son.”

The concerned-parent routine
. If I had doubts before, it was clear that Brennan had told Markham about my raid of the file cabinets. “I’m not sure why you’re asking me.”

“Please, I’ll only take a minute.”
He smiled engagingly.

I stood back to let him enter, and pointed through the open doorway to one of the breakfast tables.
I wasn’t going to let him into Aunt Madge’s living area.

Markham sat and I sat across from him.
Mister Rogers must have believed that he was there to welcome a guest, as he raised a paw as if he wanted to shake hands. Markham reached down and took the paw, and then gently let it go. Mission accomplished, Mister Rogers lay down on the floor, very close to Markham.

“I’m not sure what you want,” I said, trying not to sound too brusque.

“I think you figured out that Nat put in a bid for the repair project that was higher than it might have been.”

I avoided snorting, and kept looking at him.

“He’s been having some financial problems and they, well they have two small children.” He stopped again, and when I still didn’t say anything he continued. “I helped him put the bid together, but of course I didn’t realize how much the costs were inflated.”

“I guess you’ve been out of the business for awhile,” I said, trying not to let my sarcasm show through.
For just a second I saw anger in his eyes, but it quickly vanished.

“I have, but as a parent I still want my son to succeed.”

“Good for you.”

Now he really was irritated.
“That may be a hard concept for you to grasp, but parents tend to look after their children, even sometimes when they are old enough to take care of themselves.”

“Not always a bad thing,” I said.
“What is it you want from me?”

“Fred Brennan mentioned that you had some information on the initial bid Nat presented to Silver Times.
What do you plan to do with that information?” He asked this as if he were a strict teacher telling students to make sure everything was off their desks before an exam.

So, Brennan didn’t mention his little visit to Steele Appraisals
. “Surely he told you I don’t have that material any more?”

His surprise seemed genuine.
“No, I don’t believe he did. What, uh, did you do with it?”

“Fred can tell you,” I said, without smiling.
I stood. “Look, Mr. Markham, I was just doing some cleaning, so Aunt Madge comes home to a B&B that’s as tidy as she left it.”

He stayed seated.
“Did anyone else see the numbers? It hasn’t been in the paper.”

“I’m not Elmira.”

“True, true.” He looked up at me and finally stood, hands now in his coat pocket. “You realize I know a lot of people in Ocean Alley. People in real estate.”

Is he threatening me?
“I don’t doubt that you do.” I stared at him very directly.

Markham’s face was turning beet red.
“House prices are all over the map now. If I were to suggest that a firm other than yours had a better grasp of real estate values…”

That did it for me.
“As far as I’m concerned, and I’m sure I speak for Harry Steele, you can take your opinions on real estate values and put them, put them in a dark corner of some crummy house you built.”

“I see, missy, that you have no regard for…”

There was a loud banging on the front door. I jumped and turned in that direction.

“Now what?!”
I walked to the door, Andrew Markham following a little too closely for my comfort, and looked through the opaque panel on the door.

Nat Markham looked agitated.
He saw me peering out. “I know my father’s in there. Let me in!”

Like I’m that stupid
. “Go away! You can meet him at home or something.”

“It’s not what you think.
Let me in!”

I backed up a couple of feet and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket.

“Don’t do that,” Andrew Markham said, softly. He stood in the doorway that led to the breakfast room. “We need to finish talking.”

“We’re done,” I said, curtly.

Nat peered in the small window at the side of the door. “Leave her alone, Dad.”

“My son is foolish.
Please don’t call the police.” He gave me a look that was a cross between calculating and pleading.

“Maybe he’s beyond your help.”
I nodded at the door, which Nat Markham was now beating on with his fists.

“Lemme in!”

I pushed the 9 and in two steps Andrew Markham reached me and knocked the phone from my hand.

“What are you…?”

Andrew Markham spoke with barely controlled fury. “You really don’t want to involve anyone else.” He started to place a hand on my shoulder, but I backed up a couple of steps.

“Get away from him!” Nat Markham shouted.

Nat was beginning to look like if not the lesser of two evils, at least a variation. I remembered something important. “It’s unlocked!”

In a second Nat Markham was in the small hallway and had his father backed against the wall.
“It’s over,” he said, far more quietly than I expected.

“This is a simple business matter,” Andrew said.
“If you just…”

“Did he hurt you?” Nat asked, looking at me.

I just stared at him.

“Are you all right?” Nat asked.

“Yes,” I said, still not certain what was going on between father and son.

Nat turned back to his father, and repeated.
“It’s over. We’re going home.”

I couldn’t totally fathom Andrew Markham’s expression, but it was either really angry or almost crazed.

“Home?” he said.
“To the home I gave you or the one I can barely afford?”

“I made a lot of mistakes,” Nat said, “most of them a good while ago.
They aren’t going to get any bigger.” He grabbed his father’s arm and the older Markham pulled away.

“You can both go,” I said, pretty quietly, given how I felt.

Andrew Markham reached into the pocket of his coat and Nat grabbed his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Stop being so melodramatic.
It’s just money,” Andrew said.

“You have money?” Nat released his grip and looked puzzled.

“I have some today,” Andrew said, and withdrew a large wad of bills from his pocket. I had vaguely noticed the bulge, but assumed it was a glove.

“Damn it, Dad.
If Brennan gave you that, you’re just compounding everything.”

“I don’t want your money,” I said.
I wasn’t sure why he was offering a bribe, if that’s what it was. Surely he knew there would soon be a meeting at Silver Times. Whatever was going to happen out there was beyond his control. Imagine me, recognizing that?

“You don’t understand the world of business, never have,” Andrew said, looking at his son with an expression that showed distaste.

“I need to sit,” I said, and parked my fanny on the bottom step of the first landing of the staircase. That put my mobile phone about two inches from my foot.

“I understand how crooked you work within it,” Nat said.

As they shouted, I put my foot over the phone and slid it to a point just below my hand.

“Everything I do is to benefit this town!”

“Make everybody think you’re the grand benefactor of this town,” Nat said.
“You do it for your ego more than for anybody else.”