Chapter 25
T
HROUGH THE NIGHT,
I couldn’t seem to get the Mumfords and Sykeses out of my head. In one dream, Natalie and Mitzi were going at it, hurling insults and tubes of lipstick. In another, Ellen and Norah laughed and danced around town while igniting candles in paper bags. In a third, Willie and Sam yelled in unison at Manga Girl. The poor woman cowered in a cage no bigger than Tigger’s travel case. I awoke from each dream bathed in perspiration.
By 6:00
A.M.
I was drenched. No more double chocolate soufflés with warm fudge sauce at night for me
.
I rolled out of bed, peeked in the mirror, and gasped. My hair stuck out in all directions. The top looked like a hamster had nested in it. I threw on running clothes, donned a baseball cap, and headed out for a quick jog to clear my brain.
Still leery of running on the road, I walked and ran on the sand. To the east, the sun cast a shimmering band of gold over the hills. To the west, seagulls circled above the placid ocean, each squawking eagerly for its morning meal. To keep my brain occupied so I wouldn’t dwell on thoughts about murder, I counted my strides to and from my destination. I drew in deep breaths of air through my nose and exhaled through my mouth. By the time I returned to the cottage, I was rejuvenated and ready to face the day.
For the heck of it, seeing as I was feeling plucky, I dialed the precinct and left a message for Cinnamon. Supposition or not, she needed to know what was going on in my head. Maybe one of my theories would trigger one of her own.
After I hung up, I made myself a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. Why? Because halfway into my exercise, I’d had such a craving for comfort food that I could barely stand it. As I sat at the kitchen table to eat—the sandwich was delicious—Tigger leaped onto the table and rubbed his cheek against the Lucky Cat’s. I shooed him away and eyed the statue. If only I could resolve the issue about the key and the gold coins. I wouldn’t be fully released from my past until I did. I thought of my father. I had started to mention the key to him that day when we met on The Pier to pole fish, but then I’d caught sight of a man who I had fleetingly believed was David. Why hadn’t I remembered to consult my father again? He had a duplicating key machine at his hardware store. He might know what kind of key I had.
I dialed his home number, but he didn’t pick up. When the call went to voice mail, it dawned on me that perhaps he was otherwise occupied. With Lola. A rush of embarrassment coursed through me. My cheeks flushed. Like a little kid, I wanted to put fingers in my ears and sing, “La-la-la.” Too much information. I stabbed End without leaving a voice mail, grabbed Tigger, and flew to work. I would deal with the key later.
The moment I arrived, my aunt handed me a wad of twenties.
“Bank. Now. We need singles and fives,” she said. Many of our customers paid in cash. “It’s your turn to go.”
“Where’s Bailey?”
“She had a hankering for a double espresso.”
“So much for being off caffeine.”
“Some people don’t have that natural get-up-and-go like you.”
I didn’t tell her that, until I had downed a decent breakfast, my get-up-and-go had gotten up and went.
I settled Tigger in the stockroom and hurried away on my bicycle. I passed a number of serious cyclists on the road, heads down, dripping with sweat. Other riders looked as happy as I was to be enjoying the breeze and drinking in the morning sunshine. As I parked the bike in a bicycle stand outside the bank, removed my helmet, and secured both with a lock, the last dream I’d had replayed in my mind: Willie and Sam with Manga Girl trapped in a cage. Bailey had said the bank teller was key to the investigation. The word
key
made me flash again on the mysterious key. I assured myself that I would get personal answers
soon
.
I marched into the bank to make my transaction. Near the end of the line, I caught sight of Norah. She was unfolding the creases from a piece of paper. “Making a deposit?” I said.
“My last paycheck. My boss finally found the will to fork it over.” Norah shook the check. “All it took was seventeen phone messages and a bit of screaming.” She grimaced. “I’m so tired of automatic voice-answering thingies. You know the kind. Press one to hear a menu. Press two to go back. Press three to reach a real person, but then a real person never materializes, only another prompt.” She altered her voice to sound like a machine: “
If you feel you’ve reached this recording in error
. . .
” She laughed.
So did I. A companionable silence fell between us. I broke it. “I heard that Willie died earlier than first believed. Probably around nine o’clock.”
“Really? I thought he called you at ten.”
“The police have determined that the killer might have made that call.” Okay, my vow never to lie just flew out the window. It was a white lie and, therefore, acceptable, right? “Your alibi covered from eight-thirty on.” I went silent, hoping she would elaborate.
“Yes, it did.”
I remained quiet.
Norah frowned. She regarded the tellers and returned her attention to me. “You don’t trust me. I get that. You want to know every detail? Fine. Bebe was hungry.”
“You said she felt ill.”
“That was after we went to a drive-through coffee place. You know, the one that specializes in strawberry frappes. Bebe loves them. I got her a kid’s-size drink and, right after, she felt icky. We went to the hospital straight from there.”
“Next customer,” a teller said.
“That’s me,” Norah said and strode away.
Guilty or not? I couldn’t tell.
I scanned the other teller windows. I didn’t see Manga Girl. Rats. When I approached a teller, I asked about her and was informed that she and her boyfriend had fled to Reno to elope. Her parents were distraught, but what could they do when it came to true love?
So much for that lead. I handed over the twenties and requested change.
As I was leaving the bank, I heard someone say, “Jenna.” I surveyed the line of customers and saw Tito, chest puffed, twirling his keys around his index finger. What was it with those keys? Had he seen some macho guy in a movie doing it? He wasn’t the one who had called my name; he was chatting up the frothy blonde next to him while lapping her up with his eyes.
Good luck with that
, I thought.
So who had called out to me? I glanced toward the far end of the bank and spotted Rhett sitting in a chair beside the new-accounts desk. He waved.
I joined him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m bringing in a partner for Bait and Switch, which means I have to make my personal accounts separate. Corporate transparency and all that.”
“Why do you need a partner?” I asked, concerned.
“I don’t. I simply don’t want to work so hard. One of my regulars, a trust-fund baby, wants in. He’s a good guy. Taking on a partner means I’ll have time to go on a vacation now and then. How about you?”
“Vacations? Not for a year, I’m afraid.”
“No, I meant what are you doing here?”
I waggled the money bag. “Small denominations.”
“I know the drill.”
“Hey,
chica
,” Tito said, interrupting us. He paused at the far end of the new-accounts table. He nodded to Rhett. “Hey, bro.”
“Congratulations on making it to the final round in the Grill Fest,” Rhett said.
“That’s something, huh?” Tito jammed his keys into his jeans pocket. “Let’s hear it for cuisine à la
mexicana.
” If he weren’t always flexing his muscles and acting like a braggadocio, I would probably like Tito. His journalist pieces were funny—in writing, he had a Comedy Central–style of humor—and, like me, he enjoyed food, cookbooks, reading, and exercise. How did I know? Bailey had stumbled across Tito’s computer-dating personal page. Too funny. “Hey,
chica
—”
And then there was that
.
“Tito, call me Jenna, please. Not girl.”
“
Sí
,
sí.
Lo siento
. . . Sorry
.
Jenna,” he said, the
J
soft. “I was wondering, what do you think about a triple-layer grilled cheese with jalapeños and bacon?”
“Sounds good. What if you added pico de gallo and avocado?” Those were two items I had wanted to add to my comfort food breakfast, but I hadn’t had them on hand.
“Good idea.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “I think I’ll head to the gym. A workout always helps me rev up my creative juices.
Adios.
” He paused and faced Rhett. “Hey, bro, it’s okay if I speak of my creations in front of you even though you are a judge, isn’t it?”
Rhett nodded. “I can’t stop you.”
As Tito sauntered out of the bank, ogling women to see if they were checking him out, I thought about what he’d just said. He was going to the gym. To work out. I flashed on the clue on the bottom of the Lucky Cat:
Everything will work out.
Was it possible that the key David had given me—the key to his heart—belonged to a gym locker? He had been an exercise fiend—mornings before work and evenings after work. He liked the adrenaline boost, and he wanted to be heart healthy. Following his death, I hadn’t cleaned out his gym locker. His mother had begged for the chance. She’d said doing some of the final chores would give her closure. Though I’d assigned her a number of duties, she hadn’t reported back on any of them. I had no idea what she had or hadn’t accomplished. I’d let so much slide back then.
Quickly I bid Rhett good-bye and raced outside. In private I dialed David’s mother on my cell phone. It was early for her—the woman could sleep more than an invalid—but I didn’t care.
“Jenna,” she said, apparently seeing my name or number on her phone. “How are you, dear heart?” She called everyone
dear heart,
her pet phrase.
I greeted her, my voice tight. How could I simply blurt out my question? I couldn’t. I had to make small talk. I asked about her cat and her garden and her daughter. David’s sister was an eminent endocrinologist. His mother loved to go on about her accomplishments. Five minutes into the conversation, she said, “Why have you really called, Jenna?” She wasn’t naïve, just sluggish.
“David’s locker at the gym,” I began. I didn’t want to tell her about the gold I’d found within the Lucky Cat because, well, I wasn’t sure about its source. “Did you ever clean it out?”
Silence. I heard her hum and lick her lips. “No, I don’t think I did. I didn’t even cancel the membership. I’m so sorry. Have you been receiving bills? I’ll be glad to compensate—”
“No,” I cut in. “That’s fine. I simply wondered if you would mind if I emptied the locker myself.”
“Of course.” She coughed, but I knew she was covering a whimper. “I miss seeing you, dear heart. Will you stop by when you’re up in the city?”
“I’ll visit soon. Promise.” I wasn’t sure I would. I didn’t think I could bear seeing pictures of David everywhere. Lying to his mother to protect her feelings, I reasoned, was an acceptable custom.
I bicycled back to the shop and told Aunt Vera my plan. She was more than supportive.
