The Popsicle Tree (22 page)

“Estelle?” I asked tentatively.

“No, this is Bonnie Bronson speaking. How can I help you?”

“Ah, Bonnie…yes. This is Dick Hardesty calling, and I wonder if we might arrange to meet privately within the next day or two. I realize you're very busy, but I thought we might talk for a few minutes about the Carlene DeNuncio matter.”

“And you have come up with concrete evidence that there
is
a ‘Carlene DeNuncio matter,' then, I assume?”

For some reason I got a quick mental picture of Queen Victoria saying, “We are not amused.”

“I'm still not a hundred percent certain, but it's looking more and more as if there is.”

“I see.” Her tone strongly implied that she did not. There was a pause before she continued. “Yes, I would like to hear what, if anything, you've found out, and how soon you are planning to draw this thing to a close.”

I really couldn't blame her for being impatient. She was trying to look out for her sister, and the fact is that hiring a private investigator
is
something of a crapshoot. There's almost never a timetable, and no time cards to look over at the end of the week, and I'm sure any private investigator so inclined could pad his bill quite easily.

Since I didn't want to commit myself to an end date just yet, I avoided her last statement by saying, “So when could we meet, then?”

There was a slight pause, during which I heard kids shouting and laughing in the background, then, “Estelle does our grocery shopping Saturday morning, and she has a few errands to run as well. We could meet here at, say, ten o'clock. I assume it will not take long.”

Not one second longer than it has to, lady,
I thought. If she was implying that it wouldn't take long because I didn't have much to tell her, she was pretty well right.

“Ten will be fine. Thank you, and I'll see you Saturday morning.”

“Very well. Good-bye.”

I didn't take it personally, but I suspected I was not one of Bonnie Bronson's favorite people.

Obviously, I couldn't call back and hope to have Estelle answer the phone, so I gave Jonathan a call at work, asking him, if he got the chance to speak to Estelle alone while picking up Joshua, to have her call me.

*

That evening, Joshua brought home a drawing he had made at school, which Jonathan had immediately scotch-taped to the refrigerator door. As soon as I entered the apartment and we'd had our group hug, Joshua insisted I accompany him to the kitchen to see it. Actually, I was pretty impressed. There was a large animal that I assumed to be a horse with a small stick-like figure on top of it. In front of it were two larger figures, one with long hair. There was a large yellow blob over the horse's head with yellow lines coming out from it, and there was purple grass.

“That's great, Joshua,” I said, picking him up so he could touch it and point out details. “I'll bet that's you riding him, isn't it?”

He nodded happily, then pointed to the horse.

“That's Bill. My daddy's going to buy him for me when we get home.”

I knew without asking that the two other figures were his mother and father, but lest I had any doubts, Joshua pointed to each of them in turn.

“That's mommy, and that's daddy.”

Every time Joshua talked about his parents, I could see the pain in Jonathan's eyes, and felt a knot in my own gut.

I gave him another hug. “Well it's a wonderful picture, Joshua, and you're a very good artist!”

I set him down and he went running off into the living room while Jonathan got out a glass for my Manhattan. I pulled him to me and gave him another hug, too. “How are you doing, Babe?”

He gave me a semi-sad smile.

“I'm okay. Every time I look at Joshua, I see Samuel and Sheryl, and that makes me feel better, somehow. I know part of them is still here and always will be.”

He backed his head off my shoulder to look at me. “Does that make any sense?”

I pulled him closer again.

“It does, and I'm proud of you for being able to think of it like that.”

We broke the hug and I fixed my Manhattan while Jonathan started dinner.

*

Jonathan had relayed my message to Estelle, and shortly before ten Friday morning, she called. When I explained I'd like to talk with her privately, she said, “I have grocery shopping and errands tomorrow morning, but one of them is in The Central and I could put that one off till last. I could meet you at Coffee & again around noon, if you'd like.”

Juggle time,
a mind-voice observed.

“Well, I have a meeting in the morning, but I think I might be able to make it if it doesn't run too long. Or we could make it sometime early next week if you prefer.”

“I find it very hard to get away on weekdays, as you can imagine. And I am very curious to hear what you've learned. I'll arrange to be at Coffee & at noon, and if you're not there by twelve thirty, I'll assume you couldn't make it.”

“Well if you're sure you don't mind…”

“Not at all. I have so little time for myself, I enjoy having a few minutes to just sit and have a cup of coffee.”

“I'll do my best to be there.”

We exchanged good-byes and hung up.

*

Jonathan had been home, what…three days?…and it hadn't been exactly easy. We were both trying to get things back to normal, which of course was impossible, since our “normal” had never included a four-year-old boy. I decided what we really needed was a few hours just for the two of us, so on a whim I called Tim and Phil. I knew Tim would be at work, but Phil said he wasn't working until next week, so took a chance on his being home, and he was.

We talked for a minute or two about how things were going for each of the four of us, and I finally broached the subject.

“I was wondering if you had any plans for tomorrow night?”

“Nope. We're going out to dinner tonight with some friends, Karl and Johann—I think you met them over here once—but tomorrow's a stay-at-home. Did you want us to look after Joshua?”

“You wouldn't mind?”

“Not at all! It'll be fun. He's a great kid.”

“It'd be just for a few hours. I thought we'd go have dinner at Napoleon, just the two of us.”

“That's a great idea. Joshua can have dinner with us.”

I paused on that one.

“Uh, are you sure? He can get a little wild if he thinks he can get away with it.”

Phil laughed. “So can Tim. But I'm sure we can handle him.”

I gave a sigh of relief. “Well, if you're sure. What time shall we bring him by?”

“How about six? We can have a drink and talk awhile before you go.”

“Great! We'll see you then. And thanks.”

*

When I told Jonathan of my plan for Saturday, he was at first a little hesitant about imposing on Tim and Phil—and, I knew, of not having Joshua with us at all times—but the idea of a partial evening with just the two of us overcame his objections. Joshua had spent enough time with Tim and Phil to feel comfortable around them, and he liked them. And he looked forward to the prospect of spending some time with their fish.

*

I left the apartment before ten Saturday morning for my meeting with Bonnie Bronson. The more I thought about her relationship with her sister Estelle the more curious I got. I reflected on the fact that it had been Bonnie who had told Jan Houston where Carlene lived, and wondered as to her motivation for doing so. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't good.

But again, as far as Bonnie Benson being a prime suspect, how then would Frank Santorini, the dead detective, fit into the picture? Bonnie would have had no reason to hire him…she knew where Carlene lived. To keep tabs on Carlene and Estelle? Unlikely.

And I realized that I'd never really given serious thought to there being any connection between Carlene's death and Santorini's. Considering Santorini's reputation, any number of people could have killed him. There
are
such things as coincidences, and I didn't want to go chasing after what I think the detective novels call “red herrings.”

To play it safe, I stopped at a gas station close to Happy Day and called to be sure Estelle had left on her errands. (If Estelle answered, I'd pretend it was her I wanted to talk with, and verify our noon meeting.) But it was Bonnie who answered, and when she said Estelle had left shortly before, I told her I'd be right over.

She met me at the front door and I followed her through the house to the back porch, which had two comfortable padded lawn chairs and a small round table sitting beneath the kitchen window.

“It's such a nice day, I thought we might sit out here. Would you like a glass of iced tea?”

“If it's no trouble.”

She motioned me to one of the chairs and turned back toward the door into the house.

I sat down and looked out over the large yard, smiling when I saw the sandbox and remembering Joshua's story of his battle with the monster who lived beneath it.

Bonnie returned with a tray holding two tall glasses of ice cubes and a pitcher of tea, which she set on the small table. When she'd poured the tea and sat down herself, we each took a sip before she said, “And what did you want to talk to me about?”

I was rather relived by her obvious desire to cut right to the chase.

“I understand you spoke with Jan Houston some time ago, and it was you who gave Jan Carlene's address here. I was curious as to why.”

She set her glass on the small table and leaned back in her chair. “Why I called her, or why I gave her Miss DeNuncio's address?”

“Both, actually.”

“I was protecting my sister.”

I couldn't help but ask, “From what?”

She reached for her glass and took a long drink. “From probably being hurt. From herself,” she said without looking at me.

I cocked my head. “I'm sorry. I don't follow.”

“Estelle is…well, gullible…and naive. She's always followed her heart rather than her head, ever since she was a child.”

Yeah, but she's not a child anymore. You're not doing her any favors by treating her as if she can't look out for herself.

“When I was much younger,” Bonnie continued, “I found myself in a situation not unlike Estelle's, with a young woman not unlike Carlene DeNuncio. After falling hopelessly in love, I found out she was just out to use me and get whatever she could from me. I vowed it would never happen again, and that I would never let it happen to Estelle.”

“So you called Jan Houston to…?” I left the question incomplete.

“To find out whatever I could about Miss DeNuncio from the person who was in a position to know her best, frankly.”

Surely she couldn't have expected a recently dumped—for however valid a reason—and embittered ex-lover to give her a glowing recommendation! And why give Jan Carlene's new address? But I said nothing and took another drink of my tea.

“I know what you're thinking,” she said after a moment. “That I was trying to stand in the way of Estelle's happiness.”

Well, not exactly,
I thought,
but close.

“But nothing could be further from the truth. I love my sister, and I want her to be happy. I just don't want her to be hurt.”

Well, that little statement could open the door to a very long philosophical debate, but I chose to leave it closed.

I decided to toss a pebble into the pond to see what sort of ripple it might create. “Have you ever heard of a man named Frank Santorini?”

She looked at me very strangely, then raised an eyebrow and gave me an odd half-smile.

“I do read the newspapers. Why in the world would you ask me about him?”

Ooops. Tread carefully, Hardesty.

“Were you aware he had been following Carlene before she was killed?”

She took another long drink of her tea, which was now nearly gone.

“No,” she said, putting her glass down and not looking at me. “I had no idea. Though if a detective was following her, it only supports my belief that I was right to suspect she was not who or what she presented herself to Estelle as being. Do you know why she was being followed?”

“I have no idea,” I said, truthfully. And I wondered again exactly how much she knew of Estelle's relationships with other people.

“And exactly how much longer do you expect this to go on?”

I knew what she meant by the question.

“Not too much longer. I do have a few more people I need to talk to, but I'd say no more than two weeks.”

She nodded. “Good. And I assume you will give Estelle a detailed accounting of your time? I don't mean to appear rude, but I'm sure you understand my concern.”

“Of course,” I said, and I did. I looked at my watch, then took another drink of my tea, finishing it. “Well, I should be going, before Estelle gets home. Thank you for talking with me.”