Monster in Miniature (5 page)

“Oh, dear,” Linda said, her eyes widening.

“What is it?” I asked her. “Do you know Oliver Halbert?”

She blew out a loud breath. “He’s Susan’s brother.”

Now all of our eyes widened.

 

 

There wasn’t much else to talk about besides Susan
Giles and Oliver Halbert. I was commissioned to call the LPPD to be sure that Susan had been informed about her brother. Once I got clearance from a former student, Officer Drew Blackstone, Gail punched in Susan’s number and got her answering machine again. This time the message Gail left was more specific: “We’re all here at Gerry’s, thinking of you, and hope to hear from you soon, Susan. We’re so sorry to hear about your brother. Please let us know if there’s anything we can do.”

“I remember Susan’s talking about a brother who also relocated to this area from their hometown in Tennessee, but I never met him,” Mabel said.

Except for Linda, with whom I’d been close for many years, the rest of us didn’t socialize a lot with each other outside the miniatures community. For the most part, our crafts nights were special times, when we took ourselves away from the stresses of our personal and work lives. We considered ourselves friends, but knew each other’s families chiefly through anecdotes and an occasional meeting at a fair. And, of course, through the room boxes and miniature scenes we created for them.

I had a flash of memory of a room box we’d watched Susan make “for my only sibling,” she’d told us. It was upsetting and sad to think that same brother was now in the Lincoln Point morgue.

Within minutes, everyone’s crafts focus changed as we made a sympathy card for Susan out of supplies on the table. Anyone might have thought we were assembly-line workers while we designed and created the card: flowers from Linda wrapped in chiffon from Karen—glued to the best ivory paper from Gail’s stack book, topped off with a beaded sticker. Maddie used her newly learned calligraphy to write out a message of condolence.

It was too late tonight, but we all thought of a time when we could stop off and visit Susan. Gail took on the task of calling a friend at the local paper to get advance notice about a service.

Too much in shock to contribute much, I provided a first-class stamp for the handmade card.

“I couldn’t help it, Grandma. I was thinking about it so
much,” Maddie said, by way of excusing herself for leaking the news about Oliver Halbert. “And now we know something more about the case, right? We know Mr. Halbert was Mrs. Giles’s brother.” She gave me a sleepy grin from her pillow. “Maybe you should thank me.” Even halfway to dreamland, Maddie was making deals. “And it will be in the paper tomorrow, anyway.”

“There’s no paper tomorrow,” I said.

“Well, at Sadie’s, then. It will get all over town one way or another. Dad says, ‘bad news travels fast.’ ”

Leave it to my son to give the old negative saying new life. “And you might as well be the one to start the bad news on its journey?” I asked.

She shrugged, causing the soccer balls on her pajamas to roll around on her shoulders. “If we really, really had an important secret, I would never tell, Grandma.”

I knew that. I supposed this reaction of Maddie’s was better than her having nightmares about the ugly images of the day. Once she got over her philosophical problem with death in general, she seemed to be able to handle the particulars. Did it help that she’d lined up six miniature, somber-looking witches, their glued components drying, on her dresser?

“Are you ready to sleep?” I asked her.

“Uh-huh. Tomorrow I’ll do the ghosts. They take a lot of glue, you know.”

In fact, they were all glue—gobs of it, piled into a white heap, shaped, and accessorized. “We might have to go to a crafts store,” I said.

“Straight,” she said.

“What’s straight?”

“That’s what some of the kids in my school say. It means okay, fine.”

Living with Maddie was like having a word-a-day calendar with up-to-the-minute slang.

“Okay, fine,” I said and watched her drift off.

 

 

I had a feeling Skip would come by as soon as he thought
Maddie was asleep. I’d already replenished the cookie plate and put on water for coffee (him) and tea (me) when the doorbell rang.

“I knew you’d be ready for me,” Skip said, stepping into my atrium and, three seconds later, popping a cookie into his mouth. “I was waiting until my little squirt would be asleep.”

Were all families this predictable? I wondered. Or was I just lucky?

“I can’t believe he was related to Susan Giles,” I said, as if there had been no interruption in our talk between the Sangamon River Road crime scene and my home many hours later. “Did you see Susan?”

“Yeah, I was the one to give her the news about her brother. She was getting ready to meet all her friends here for the ‘girls’ night in’ crafts session, and instead I had to bring her to tears. I hate doing that. It’s the worst part of the job, Aunt Gerry.”

His bright mood hadn’t lasted long tonight. His handsome young face took on a dispiriting look.

“I’m sure it is.”

We took our drinks to the living room since my atrium was too chilly for me this evening. As warm as fall days could be in the Bay Area, nights were always cool. Skip sat across from me on an ottoman, the better to reach the plate of cookies on my dusty mahogany coffee table. I wasn’t the only miniaturist who preferred keeping house on a one-inch scale.

I pictured Skip approaching Susan’s home, knowing she was one of my friends, preparing to deliver news that would change her life. I thought how good my sensitive nephew would be at a time of sorrow and crisis, as much as he dreaded the task.

Eleven years old—Maddie’s age—when his father died, Skip told his mother not to worry, that he would take care of the house from then on. He asked his uncle Ken, my husband, to teach him how to do basic plumbing, since that seemed to be at the heart of many breakdowns in his home, and to help him find a job. He never did master plumbing, but he became the neighborhood errand boy and problem solver.

Seeing him in my living room, in full detective mode, if not dress, I imagined how proud both his father and his uncle would be—he’d gone from serving and protecting his mother to doing the same for the whole Lincoln Point community.

“Where did you go, Aunt Gerry?” Skip asked, waving his hands in front of my face.

“To the nineties,” I said. “But I’m back.”

“I was asking if you even knew Susan had a brother, since you didn’t recognize him at the scene.”

“She talked about him and made a miniature for him in our group, but I’d never met him. Maybe the name Oliver should have struck a chord when I heard it from you, since it’s not that common, but with a different last name, I never made the connection. Oliver was her baby brother. He moved here a few years ago from Tennessee, after his divorce.”

“Yeah, Susan told me that. I guess those photographs in his wallet—the ones of a happy nuclear family—were from days gone by.”

“Susan said the breakup was hard on him. Their parents were gone, and Susan was out here.” I thought a minute. “And both his girls had come to the West Coast for college. I guess he wanted as much family around him as he could muster.”

“That would be why Susan is blaming herself,” Skip said. “She’s thinking that her brother would have been alive and well if she hadn’t moved here and lured the girls here, too.”

Poor Susan. Why was it that at any death there was someone taking the blame, usually not the right person? For a moment I found myself thinking, if Maddie and I hadn’t taken so long over our ice cream at Sadie’s, maybe we would have been at the Fergusons’ in time to save Oliver. How, I had no idea. Nor did I want to dwell on the notion that if we’d arrived at the wrong time, we might have suffered the same fate at the hands of a killer, if there was one.

“Do you know yet how Oliver died?” I asked. “I mean, other than a bullet hole to his head.”

“It’s too soon for an official report, but the ME at the scene said she couldn’t rule out suicide. I’m sure that will be hard for Susan to take.”

“No harder than murder,” I said.

“True enough.”

“Have you looked into anything that might suggest her brother was murdered, in case that’s the ruling?”

“Yeah, you know we drop everything, even sleep, when there’s a murder.”

I gave him a sympathetic look, knowing he was only half teasing. “Poor dear.”

“As long as you appreciate us. It’s only been a few hours, but we found a few things that raised some flags.”

“Anything of interest to the general public?” I asked. Skip gave me a crossways look. I rushed to reassure him. “I’m not going to get involved. Susan’s my friend and I’m curious.”

“Straight.”

“You, too? I thought that was for schoolkids.”

“The word’s making the rounds. It seems Oliver Halbert was the chief witness in the DA’s case against Patrick Lynch.”

“The big developer?”

Skip rubbed his palms together as if he were cold, though he usually preferred a little chill in the air. “The same. There’s talk that Lynch will be indicted for bribing a city inspector, the guy who had the job before Halbert. That would be Max Crowley, who’s also about to be indicted.”

I followed local news, but often didn’t remember specifics. I tried to be informed at voting time, but wouldn’t have wanted to take a quiz on the day-to-day political maneuverings unless they concerned me directly.

“And Oliver was going to testify against both of them?”

Skip nodded and took a deep, loud breath. He rubbed his hands together again, and I remembered the other trigger for that gesture: delivering unpleasant news. I studied his face. There was more to his visit than giving me an update on the body on the Fergusons’ porch.

“There’s something else you should know about, Aunt Gerry.”

My stomach clutched, for no reason other than I knew my nephew’s every “tell” and this one was as loud as the ALHS cafeteria on the day before a holiday.

“I’m listening.”

“We looked through Halbert’s papers. He dug up some stuff, going back a few years.”

“How many years?”

“Maybe five or six.”

A time period that would include when my husband worked on projects for the city.

Skip’s expression grew very serious. “It’s one of the main reasons I came over so late.”

Now I was really worried. I drew my own deep breath.

“Are all the people who put up buildings crooked?” The question came from a small voice in the hallway.

“Hey, look who’s up,” Skip said, scooping Maddie close for a hug. He got to her so quickly that I assumed he’d been on cop alert even though he looked relaxed in my living room. Either that, or he’d been hoping for a way to stall giving his announcement. “Were we too loud for you?”

“Nuh-uh,” Maddie said. “I just figured you’d be coming by, Uncle Skip, so I tried hard to stay awake. I fell asleep for a little bit, but”—she spread her arms and took a bow—“I’m up now.”

“So you are,” Skip said. “How did you know I’d be visiting?”

Maddie grinned. “The case and all.”

“Why are you asking about crooked builders?” I asked Maddie. Had she been following the local news more closely than I had? I was only peripherally aware of the potential indictments coming up.

“I heard you talking about a developer. He’s the person who builds houses and then sells them, right? Aren’t they never honest? My dad says you can’t trust them.”

Too many negatives, but I knew what she meant. Also, I’d have to have a talk with my son. Unrealistic as it was, I wished Richard would keep to happy talk with his daughter.

“What makes you think that?” I asked Maddie. “Your grandfather was an architect, remember, and he worked with people who put up buildings.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Skip’s head drop to his chest. I swallowed hard. Did I want to know the answer to the question forming in my mind—what was the bad news signaled by Skip’s body language?

“I forgot about that. Grandpa was honest. I’ll bet he was the most honest person doing buildings.”

I thought Skip’s palms would smoke if he rubbed any harder.

“You’re right, Maddie. But please go back to bed, sweetheart. I need to talk to Uncle Skip,” I said, struggling for control of my voice.

“I need to talk to him, too. I want to show him my deep search techniques,” she said. “They might help with the case.”

I was used to Maddie’s wiggling herself into her uncle’s cases, offering her newly learned computer skills. Usually I let her and Skip work it out, but not tonight.

Skip sat back, waiting, I knew, to see who’d win. I had the feeling he was rooting for Maddie. I was surprised he hadn’t taken the opportunity to slip out of the house.

“Maddie.” I gave her a look that said I meant it. She probably hadn’t seen this look on my face since she was a toddler. “Maddie, please go back to bed.”