Something's Knot Kosher (11 page)

C
HAPTER
18

We caravanned back to Interstate 5, and our solemn procession moved at a stately fifty-five miles per hour in the far right-hand lane. Once we hit the open road, the other cars passed us at considerable speed. Several red cars flew by, none of them a Porsche.

Jazz cleared his throat. “Birdie, I have something to tell you. I hope you don't think any less of me because of it.”

She looked over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows. “What is it, dear?”

Jazz told her about Li'l Ape Man. “It's only fair you know, since he might be following us. I'm so sorry if I've put everyone in jeopardy.”

“Jazz dear, it's not your fault you have a stalker. Let's just hope you're wrong about spotting him earlier.”

Jazz brought his fingertips to his lips and threw Birdie a little kiss. “Thank you.” He picked up my Double Wedding Ring quilt again and began stitching. I turned awkwardly in my seat so I could watch out the back window for a red Porsche. I barely noticed the farms, orchards, and ranches of the north Sacramento Valley. We reached Red Bluff around one and cruised by an old brick building built in the neo classic style with fluted white columns and a carved stone pediment. Beyond that lay a row of stores with false fronts straight out of the early twentieth century.

The walkie-talkie hissed to life with Earl's voice. “Just to your right is Peggy's Picnic Palace. It's famous around these parts. If it's okay with you folks, I'll park around the corner and meet you there. Over.”

Lucy pressed a button on the two-way radio. “Will do.”

We stopped in front of a wooden storefront painted white. A sign in blue letters announced
PEGGY'S PICNIC PALACE, GOOD OL' HOME COOKING.
Light blue and white checked curtains hung in the window.

“It's charming,” said Birdie. “I hope they'll let us go inside with the dogs.” We pushed the glass door open and trooped inside.

“Nope. No dogs allowed,” said Peggy, a heavy middle-aged woman in a hairnet. Her gold polyester uniform strained over her large breasts.

“I can see why you'd be concerned.” Jazz looked around and flashed a dazzling smile. “Your restaurant is perfect.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “And it smells divine in here.”

The woman's frown disappeared under the handsome man's compliments.

He leaned in a little and bent his head closer to hers. “It's just that this is no ordinary German shepherd. He's a decorated police canine and extremely well behaved. What if we sat right by the door and put him under the table? If at any time you change your mind, I promise I'll take him outside. No arguments.” Jazz failed to mention the tiny Maltese hiding in the yellow tote bag over his arm.

Peggy gave him a coy grin. “Well, I s'pose just this one time. But if he barks or disturbs my customers, out he goes.”

He gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “You're the best.”

About twenty diners chatted around tables covered with checked cloths matching the curtains. None of them seemed a bit concerned over Arthur's presence. Earl joined us and removed his cap before sitting down. “Friend of mine recommended this place. Said the food's real good.” He smiled at Birdie. “I hope it meets with your approval, little lady.”

She smiled. “I'm sure it will.”

“Good, because I can't tell anymore.” He patted the package of cigarettes in his breast pocket. “The smokes destroyed my sense of taste and smell.”

I ordered Peggy's Wednesday lunch special: three crispy pieces of fried chicken, potato salad, corn on the cob, hot biscuits, and apple pie for dessert. Peggy cooked everything from scratch with fresh ingredients. It was beyond good. All during lunch I slipped tidbits under the table for Arthur.

Earl looked at Birdie. “I'll bet you're a good cook. You know what they say. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.”

Lucy put down her fork and nudged me under the table. “I thought you couldn't taste or smell.”

I avoided her gaze to keep from laughing.

The old man shrugged. “That's right. But if anyone took the trouble to cook for me, I'd show her a lot of appreciation.” He winked at Birdie and finished the last of his coffee. Then he pushed back from the table. “We better git to gitten, folks. We've got at least another three hours of driving ahead.”

Birdie insisted on paying the bill and gave Peggy a generous tip.

Peggy wrapped a couple of biscuits in a paper napkin and handed it to Jazz. “For the dog.” On the inside of the napkin was her name and a hastily written phone number.

Back in the Caddy, I turned sideways to fasten my seat belt and caught a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. A sudden jolt of electricity traveled down my spine. A Porsche? I whipped my head toward the back window for a better view, but whatever I had glimpsed was gone.
For heaven's sake, Martha, stop being so paranoid.
I decided not to alarm the others just yet.

Back in the car, Jazz made a phone call. “Did that shipment of silk from Thailand come in yet? Only seven bolts? Call Pradeep and find out where the other three are.” He ended the call and rolled his eyes. “I leave for five minutes and everything falls apart. I swear, you can't depend on anybody these days.” He sighed. “That's one of the many reasons I loved Rusty. He was so steady and reliable.”

“I know what you mean, dear. That's why I loved him too.”

Wasn't that why Birdie married Russell in the first place? She needed an anchor to ground her after that traumatic near-death experience in India.

By four in the afternoon we reached the town of Yreka and entered the Cascade Mountain range.

“There's Mount Lassen.” Birdie pointed to a majestic snow-capped peak in the distance. “We'll be in Ashland in another hour.”

I had been too busy glancing out the rear window to enjoy the forest scenery. My muscles had tensed rock solid with anxiety. The fibromyalgia had blossomed into a full-blown assault.

I swallowed my pain meds, sank back in the seat, and closed my eyes. Every muscle in my body ached and my head throbbed.
Please don't let there be any more drama. Just let me crawl into bed soon.

“Wake up, Martha. We've reached Ashland.” Jazz gently shook my arm.

My jaw had fallen open and my chin was wet with drool. I hastily sat up and wiped my face with the back of my hand. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“Really, girlfriend?” Lucy stared at me in the rearview mirror. “I never would have guessed from your snoring.”

“I don't snore!”

Jazz bobbed his head rapidly. “Yes, you do, but not a lot.”

Ashland, Oregon, was the home of the renowned annual Shakespeare Festival. Theater lovers came from all over the country to enjoy the professional performances. Towsley had booked us into the Hotel Falstaff near the site of the festival grounds. Earl gave us directions to the hotel over the two-way radio. “I'll pick you folks up again at eight in the morning. Over.”

“Where will you be staying?” Lucy asked.

“I'm bunking overnight at the Alas Poor Yorick Mortuary.”

It's a good thing I'd eaten a large lunch. The hotel served only one menu item each night. Wednesday's choice was bangers and mash—pork sausage, mashed potatoes, and mushy peas. Since I didn't eat pork or mushy peas, I just ordered coffee and dessert, a pasty English pudding made with raisins and currants called Spotted Dick.

Don't ask.

We didn't have adjoining rooms this time, so Arthur and I stayed in the double, guarding Birdie while Lucy slept down the hall.

Birdie barely spoke through dinner and just pushed the food around her plate. When we got back to our room, I heated some water in the coffeepot and handed her a cup of tea. “How're you doing?”

She sighed. “I've often dreamed of coming back here. But nothing's the same. This town is unrecognizable from the little place it was in the sixties. There's no place for me to park my memories.”

“Do you want to visit Aquarius?”

She looked down and massaged her hands together. “It's much too late for that, dear.” Tears coursed down the wrinkles in her cheeks. “I made my choice a long time ago. I traded the only man I truly loved for a life of safety and stability.”

My heart squeezed in sympathy. “This must be very hard on you. Are you having second thoughts?”

She wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Not just today. I've often wondered over the years if I made the right choice.”

“But didn't you tell Lucy and me before that you and Denver continued to see each other as part of your arrangement with Russell?”

“Yes. It wasn't the best situation, but it was the only one we had.” Birdie stared into the distance, wrapped in old memories. “We were so passionate. But everything stopped when Feather got pregnant. Denver wasn't happy about leaving me, but he wanted to do the right thing for the sake of the boy. ‘Set a good example. Give him a stable home,' he said. In his own way, Denver turned out to be as conscientious as Russell.”

Conscientious? Sleeping with two women?
“So that was the end of your romance with Denver?”

Birdie dabbed at her eyes with the tissue and nodded. “He did the responsible thing.”

“Are you prepared to see him tomorrow?”

She wrung her hands again. “I'm worried sick.”

“Birdie, do you have any idea what Denver meant when he said he wanted something Russell had that didn't belong to him?”

She pushed her brows together. “The only thing I could think of were the bearer bonds. I think they belonged to Russell's parents. Maybe Denver believes he's entitled to those bonds, or at least half of them.”

“What'll you do if he asks for them?”

Birdie sighed. “Whatever's right.”

Could Denver Watson have had Russell killed for hoarding the bearer bonds? Could he have sent the killer to Birdie's house to retrieve them? If Birdie decided to keep the bonds, would Denver try to harm her?

The three of us would have to stick to Birdie like glue once we got to McMinnville. We couldn't allow Denver to get her alone. We couldn't let the wolf lure the sheep away from the safety of the herd. Thank God for the Browning and the Glock.

While I waited for Birdie to finish taking her shower, my cell phone rang.

“Everyone okay? Where are you?” Beavers.

“Arthur's fine. We're staying in the Hotel Falstaff in Ashland.”

“I've been thinking. Maybe I'll meet you in McMinnville. It's not that far from the Rez over on the coast. I haven't visited my cousins in a while. You might like to see it, too.”

Oh my God!
Beavers was referring to the Siletz Indian Reservation where he grew up with his grandparents. He often talked about taking me there when we were dating.

“I don't think that's a good idea, Arlo. You and me.”

“Think about it, Martha. We could start out slow. Just friends. See how things develop. We were so good once.”

He was partly right. When we were dating, we were great together, at least in the beginning. I felt safe. Cared for. He treated me with respect, but not like a person with her own opinions and desires. Eventually I came to feel constrained by his rigidity. Beavers had to be the one in control at all times. In the end, I couldn't live with that. And he couldn't live with my independence.

“I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted, but my first obligation is to Birdie. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Just think about it.”

C
HAPTER
19

I woke up Thursday morning with a roaring appetite. The breakfast buffet at Hotel Falstaff included a full English board of eggs, sausage, bacon, kippers, baked beans, broiled tomatoes, mushrooms, toast, butter, marmalade, and tea. I avoided the pork and the beans but loaded my plate with everything else. My mood soared after such a satisfying meal, and I looked forward to a pleasant drive to McMinnville.

Lucy kept texting all through breakfast. Finally she turned off her phone and pressed her lips together.

I poured some milk into a fresh cup of tea. “What's the news?”

“Junior hired a private detective. So far they know Tanya and the three boys boarded a flight to Oahu two days ago.” She looked at me and set her jaw. “She paid for
five
tickets with her credit card.”

So Tanya
did
run away with her kung fu instructor. I had never seen my tall friend look so pissed.

After breakfast, Lucy rolled my luggage out to the front of the hotel while I took Arthur for one last walk. Five minutes later the German shepherd and I joined the others waiting outside. Overnight temperatures had dipped to fifty degrees, and the morning air was still chilly. Lucy wore a faux mink vest over a long-sleeved T-shirt. Birdie wore a blue cardigan she knitted about ten years ago. Jazz was dressed in a gray suede jacket with a lavender wool scarf hanging around his neck. Zsa Zsa wore a matching lavender sweater with a rhinestone barrette holding her topknot.

I was glad I'd brought my thick Aran cardigan. “I'm surprised at the cold.”

Birdie pulled her sweater tighter around her body. “Don't worry, dear. It's July. Even though the nights are cool, daytime weather in these parts reaches the upper eighties.”

Lucy looked around. “Where's Earl?”

Jazz rubbed his hands together. “It's eight-fifteen. Shall we call that mortuary where he's staying?”

“I don't think that's necessary.” I pointed to the long black vehicle driving slowly up to the curb. Earl parked and walked toward our group, limping a little more than usual. The circles under his eyes and sallow skin suggested he'd suffered a bad night. “Sorry I'm late, folks. My sciatica. Didn't get to sleep until the wee hours. Overslept.”

Birdie tilted her head. “You look a bit peaky this morning. Did you manage to have some breakfast?”

He removed his cap and smoothed back his sparse white hair. “No time. But I stopped at Tony's Tacos and got a breakfast burrito and large coffee to go.”

I guess if you'd lost your sense of taste and smell, a breakfast burrito was as good as kippers, eggs, and mushrooms.

Earl shifted his weight to one side and winced in pain. “You folks ready? The drive from here to McMinnville will take all day. If we don't stop too many times, we'll make it by late afternoon or early evening.”

When we got back to LA, I'd give Towsley a piece of my mind for sticking us with a sick old man. “Earl, are you sure you're up to the trip?”

Instead of answering my question, he turned to Birdie and winked. “Don't you worry, pretty lady. This old dog has a lot of life left, if ya know what I mean.”

Lucy rolled her eyes.

Jazz sidled up to Birdie and put a protective arm around her shoulder. “Lively old dog? Kudos to your veterinarian.”

Back in the Caddy, Lucy continued to drive, Birdie brooded over the code in the diary, and I quilted my Double Wedding Ring.

Jazz made a phone call. “What did Pradeep say about the missing shipment from Thailand? Omaha? As in Nebraska? They're not even in the same zip code. Whatever. Just make sure we get them back before they get blown away in some tornado.”

Jazz closed the phone and gazed out the window. “Everything's so green. Rusty often talked about how beautiful it is up here. I think he missed it more than he'd admit.”

Birdie turned sideways in her seat. “Wait until we get farther north. That's where the really dense forests are. You can pick wild berries starting in late spring.”

Jazz held Zsa Zsa to his chest and stroked her under her chin. “Rusty said his family came here in a covered wagon over the Oregon Trail. Where is that, exactly?”

“Let me see.” Birdie ticked off her fingers. “The trail started in Independence, Missouri, and cut through Iowa, Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, and Idaho before ending in Oregon City.”

“Where's that?” he asked.

“Near Portland. Russell's ancestors traveled due west from there and claimed farmland in the area around McMinnville. His roots go way back.”

I put down my needle and snapped, “But not as far back as the Native Americans!” Arlo Beavers was half Native American. He had talked about how poorly his people were treated by the American government, even as late as the 1970s. He maintained that his people were the true owners of the land. “Russell's family—along with every other settler, miner, and industrialist—stole from the Indians. That's hardly something to be proud of.”

Birdie sighed. “I know what you mean, Martha dear. How the pioneers treated the Native Americans was always a sore point between Russell and me. Basically, his ancestors stole their land.”

Jazz nodded. “I agree. Plus, you could say that about every square inch of this country, couldn't you? None of it rightfully belongs to us.”

Oh my God. Jazz and Birdie were just alike. Russell Watson had a type!

Lucy squirmed in her seat. “Good grief!” she exploded. “I'm stuck in a car with a bunch of bleeding hearts. Get over it! What do you want? To give this country back to the Indians? It's far too late for that. You can't take back the past. You just have to move on.”

Whoa!
Normally, my Republican friend avoided political conversations with Birdie and me. Her distress and worry over her son's family had shortened her temper and fouled her mood. We sat in awkward silence following her angry outburst.

We passed Medford and approached Grants Pass when the two-way radio crackled to life with Earl's voice. “Do any of you folks need to stop? Roseburg is more than an hour ahead.”

Birdie spoke gently. “Please tell him yes, Lucy. Better safe than sorry.”

Just as we pulled off the road into a gas station, a red sports car sped past and disappeared around the corner. We stepped out of the car and I tugged on Jazz's suede jacket sleeve. “Was that you-know-who?”

He attached a lavender leash to Zsa Zsa's collar and put her on the ground. “I couldn't tell. Shouldn't we contact the FBI agent?”

I shook my head. “And tell her what? If it is Li'l Ape Man, he's playing a stalker's game. He's showing just enough of himself to make you afraid but not enough to be identified. Keeping you in the dark is all part of the psychological torture. On the other hand, it could be a coincidence that a red sports car passed us just now. If we're going to contact Agent Lancet, we need more than flashes of red.”

During our break, Lucy walked away from us for a private conversation on the phone. Then she walked past us and sat in the car by herself.

I whispered to Birdie, “I don't know what's upset her more. Our conversation, or Ray Junior's missing wife and children.”

Birdie adjusted the strap on her overalls. “Best to just let her work it out on her own right now. She'll talk when she's ready.”

Ten minutes later, we headed north again on Interstate 5. The air in the Caddy was thick with resentment. My hopes for a pleasant ride to McMinnville vanished. Birdie appeared to be writing something, and I resumed my quilting. Jazz produced a sketch pad from his tote bag and drew jackets with wide lapels and baggy slacks with pleats.

Lucy finally broke the silence. “My bad feeling is coming back. Did anyone get a close look at Earl back at the gas station? He seemed sick to me.”

I knew what she meant. The old man's appearance hadn't improved, despite the breakfast burrito and coffee. His hands seemed a little shaky, and beads of sweat had peppered his upper lip.

Birdie raised her hand. “Yes, I saw the same thing. I asked him if he was all right, and he assured me he felt fine.”

Forty-five minutes later, the hearse started to drift toward the left-hand lane in front of us.

I gasped. “Holy crap! What's he doing?”

Lucy honked her horn, and the hearse jerked to the right in a sudden corrective move. “Something's not right.”

I sat at the edge of my seat on high alert, straining forward against the seat belt. Jazz and Birdie did the same thing. After another minute, Lucy slammed on her brakes as the hearse in front of us veered to the right and shuddered to a stop on the side of the highway.

Lucy steered the Caddy off the road and parked in front of the black hearse. “I
told
you I had a bad feeling.”

We all jumped out of the car and rushed to the driver's side of the hearse. Earl opened the door and stood. The skin on his face had turned an ugly color of green. He removed his cap and loosened the skinny black tie around his neck. “I think I'm going to be sick.”

The four of us immediately jumped backward. Earl staggered on shaky legs toward the brush on the side of the road, leaning on the car for support. He clutched his stomach, bent forward, and puked into the bushes. He stood, spat a few times, and pointed to the driver's seat. “Water.”

Lucy, Birdie, and Jazz stood still, unwilling to breach the inside of a decedent vehicle. Who could blame them? I took a deep breath and walked to the open driver's door. The inside of the hearse smelled like a mixture of beans, coffee, stale cigarette smoke, and something else. I retrieved a bottle of water from the console and handed it to Earl.

He rinsed his mouth, spat again, then drank a few sips. With shaking hands, he pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and mopped the sweat from his face.

Birdie responded with her customary concern. “Do you think it was the burrito?”

Earl clutched his left shoulder and slumped against the fender. “Pain. Can't breathe.”

Jazz covered his mouth. “Oh my God. He's having a heart attack. I'll call 9-1-1.”

Lucy ran over to the old man and put her arm around his shoulders. “You have to tell them where we are.” She looked around frantically. “Where is that, anyway?”

Birdie scowled in concentration. “I think we're about fifteen miles outside of Roseburg. By the time the paramedics figure out where we are and respond, we could already be at the hospital. It'll be faster if we take him ourselves.”

Lucy opened the passenger door of the hearse and settled Earl into the seat. She slammed the door shut and stood back and scowled at me. “Martha, you have to transport him.” All eyes turned in my direction.

I shuddered. “Seriously? Why me?”

Lucy put her hands on her hips. “I have my own car to drive. Besides, hanging out with dead bodies is your specialty.”

Jazz and Birdie both looked at the ground, avoiding my gaze. Lucy was still angry, but I had to admit she was right. Even if Birdie hadn't lost her license, it would be cruel to ask either her or Jazz to chauffeur Russell's body. Like it or not, I was going to have to transport Earl to the hospital.

Jazz said he'd use the GPS on his phone to guide us to the hospital in Roseburg. I slid into the driver's seat and attempted not to think about the big mahogany casket behind me. The leather was still warm from when Earl sat there just a couple of minutes earlier. I adjusted the rearview mirror, brought the driver's seat slightly forward, and pushed the button on the walkie-talkie. “Okay, let's get this show on the road.”

I pulled onto the highway behind the Caddy and rolled down my window. The air inside the hearse was stale and unpleasant. At first I sat stiffly behind the wheel but relaxed when I realized that piloting the big vehicle wasn't any more difficult than steering an extralong station wagon. The old man sat gasping and moaning next to me. I reached over and tried to give him a reassuring pat on the hand. “Hang on, Earl. We'll be at the hospital in just a few minutes.”

His words came out in a raspy voice. “Going too fast.” I glanced at the speedometer. Lucy was eating up the road at seventy miles per hour, and I was right on her tail.

“That's the whole idea, Earl. We're rushing you to the emergency room. Hardly any cars are on the highway right now. Just try to relax and focus on steady breathing.”

“Someone needs to call my wife.”

“You're
married?
”

Earl moaned in response.

The chutzpah of this old guy: lying to a vulnerable widow while he was away from his wife! Was there no one left in this world who was faithful? Almost every man I'd ever been with had cheated on me. Except for Yossi Levy, my latest romantic interest. And since I hadn't heard from him in over five months, I could only assume he'd found someone else too. I briefly thought about calling Beavers and accepting his invitation to go to the Rez, just to spite Yossi. But I just as quickly rejected the idea and focused instead on staying a safe distance behind Lucy's Caddy.

Twelve minutes later Lucy turned on her right blinker. On the side of the highway, a blue sign with a big
H
pointed us in the direction of a nearby hospital.

We followed the arrows on the big red
EMERGENCY
signs in front of Mercy Medical Center. A team of doctors and nurses waited for us right outside. I discovered later that Jazz had the presence of mind to phone ahead.

Lucy got out of the Caddy and pointed them to the passenger side of the hearse. After a moment's confusion, they opened the door of the death vehicle and placed the living Earl on a gurney.