The Popsicle Tree (4 page)

That caught me a little by surprise. “I suppose. Any place in particular?”

“Yeah, I accidentally threw away my school registration schedule. Could we drive out there so I can get a copy?”

“Will anyone be there?”

“Sure, they have some night classes going on all year round.”

“Okay. But first I'd better try to call Carlene's ex.”

“I'll go run feed the fish while you're on the phone.”

When he'd disappeared into the kitchen, I tried calling the number in Carrington that Carlene had given me. There were two rings, then, “I'm sorry, the number you have called is no longer in service.”

Assuming I'd misdialed, I hung up and tried again. Same message.

“Jonathan,” I called toward the kitchen, where I could hear him talking softly to the fish as he fed them—“Hey, they don't get out much,” he said once—“do you have Carlene's phone number?”

“I wrote it on the inside cover of the phone book.”

I found it and dialed, telling Carlene about the disconnect message and verifying that I had, indeed, called the right number.

“That's really odd,” Carlene said then paused. “I…I certainly hope she hasn't decided to move and follow me here! But with the note and all….”

“Do you have her work number? I can call them tomorrow to see if she's still working there. It can't hurt. Oh, and I'll need her last name.”

A very hesitant, “Are you sure you don't mind? I can't imagine her quitting her job; she's been there since we moved to Carrington. I'm probably just overreacting to all of this.” She paused. “Just a minute, I'll get the number for you. And her last name is Houston, Jan Houston.”

When she returned with the number, I wrote it down.

“Jonathan and I have to run out for a while tonight, but we shouldn't be too long. I'd suggest that unless you're expecting someone, you don't answer the door if someone should knock.”

“I always check the peephole first.”

“Good idea.” I said.

*

It was a beautiful windows-down night for a drive, warm, with a nice light breeze. After we'd picked up the registration schedule from the college, I remembered that the address Bil Dunham had given me for Judi Cramer wasn't far from our apartment, and asked Jonathan if he'd mind if we made a run over there. There was no particular reason to go, other than it was a nice night for a drive, and I knew I'd probably want to drive by at some point, just to get a feel for where and how Judi lived.

I'd rather expected she lived in an apartment—the area she lived in was mostly smaller apartment buildings sprinkled with older single-family homes. I was rather surprised to find Judi's address was a neat little bungalow on the corner of a block of apartment buildings. The lights were on, and as we turned the corner, I saw a driveway and garage behind the house on the side street. But what surprised me even more was that there were two cars in the drive, Judi's Chevy and, behind it…an older model Dodge station wagon.

Surprise, surprise!
I thought.
This must be one of the double shifts Arbuckle's wife said he was always working.

I drove down the block and pulled into a parking space along the curb.

“What's up?” Jonathan asked as I took the keys out of the ignition to open the glove compartment.

“I need to get a picture.” I took the camera and the roll of low-light film I'd been smart enough to buy earlier out of the glove compartment. I'd only taken a couple of shots on the daylight roll, but figured it was worth the sacrifice, so just clicked the shutter and wound forward until they were all exposed, then took out the roll and replaced it with the low-light film.

“Be right back,” I told Jonathan.

Getting out of the car, I walked back toward Judi Cramer's house. A streetlight at the corner cast enough light on the driveway to make me pretty sure the pictures would come out. I hoped no one would see me, and especially that Arbuckle wouldn't pick this particular moment to leave.

When we'd driven up, I'd noticed lights on in the front and rear of the house, but now noted that the rear lights—a bedroom, maybe?—had been turned out.

I took several shots from various angles, then hurried back to the car.

“Get what you needed?” Jonathan asked.

“Yep. I think this will be a fairly short case.”

On the way back to our apartment, we stopped at an open drugstore for more daylight film, and Jonathan replaced the low-light roll as we drove. I wanted to be at the lot when Arbuckle and Judi arrived the next morning, to see if history might repeat itself.

*

There were no messages on the machine when we returned to the apartment, so I assumed Carlene hadn't been contacted by her ex.

It wasn't quite time to go to bed, but Jonathan disappeared into the bedroom, emerging a few minutes later with our Polaroid.

“How about a little game of The Oversexed Photographer and the Nude Model? Me photographer, you model.”

I got up from the couch. “Well, if you
insist
,” I said with a totally fake put-upon sigh, at the same time slowly unbuttoning my shirt. “But I'm afraid we'll have to change the name of the game to The Oversexed Photographer and the Equally Oversexed Nude Model.”

“I can work with that,” Jonathan said with a grin, snapping the first picture as I slipped my open shirt off my shoulders.

*

I was waiting at the lot, camera ready, when Judi Cramer drove into the alley behind the office and parked. While I really didn't use the camera all that much for my work, I was glad that when I bought it, I'd spent the extra money for a built-in zoom lens.

Judi sat in her car until Arbuckle's station wagon pulled in a minute or so later. Apparently they had their arrival schedules down pat. They both got out of their cars as I lifted and focused the camera. She came quickly over to him and their faces were about six inches apart when another car turned into the driveway and they quickly moved away from one another. Luckily, I'd already started snapping pictures and figured an almost-kiss was close enough, combined with the evidence of Arbuckle's car in Judi's driveway.

Judi hurried into the office as Clint pulled into a parking spot. Arbuckle was just lighting a cigarette, and they exchanged a few words before Clint entered the office. I couldn't resist taking a shot or two of Clint just on general principles.

Maybe you should have Bil Dunham get Clint's address for you
, my crotch suggested innocently.

I told it to shut up.

*

I dropped the three rolls of film off at a one-hour photo place near work, and went to the office. I decided to try to call Jan Houston first thing, though I really wasn't sure what I'd say to her if she was there. Oh, well, I dialed.

“Parker Precision Products.”

“May I speak to Jan Houston?”

There was a pause, then, “Miss Houston is on vacation this week. She'll be back on Monday. Would you care to leave a message?”

“Ah, no thanks. I'll reach her later.” And I hung up.

Vacation, eh?
Then why is her home phone disconnected?

Well, short of driving up to Carrington to try to locate her, there really wasn't much more I could do at that point. I'd just have to caution Carlene to be very careful, and try to keep an eye on her when she was at home.

Around ten thirty I took a walk to the one-hour photo place to see if the film was ready. It was, though the clerk informed me I'd better check my camera because most of the three rolls were blank.

I'll say it again—a good camera's well worth the money, especially in my line of work. Every photo I took turned out, including the almost-kiss, which didn't leave much doubt as to what was taking place. I set the ones with Clint aside, debating what I should do with them. I didn't think Jonathan would be overly happy to have me taking pictures of another guy. I sighed and tore them up.

Wuss!
my crotch said disgustedly.

When I returned to the office I called Cramer Motors and asked to speak to Mr. Cramer. When he came on, I told him I had some news for him and asked if we could meet for a few minutes somewhere other than at the lot. He suggested Coffee &, a diner in The Central, about three blocks from the lot. We agreed to meet at noon.

The clock over the counter showed 11:50 as I walked in the door of Coffee &. I didn't mind being early because, being in The Central, there were always several select pieces of eye candy around. I wondered if Clint, from Cramer's lot, ate there.

Down, boy! Down!

I took a booth against the wall and ordered a cup of coffee from a cute little waiter who was so androgynous it took me a minute to figure out his gender.

About ten after twelve—why am I always early and everyone else always late?—I saw George Cramer come through the door, looking first at the clock, then around the room for me. Seeing me, he came over.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me. “Dean needed me to close a sale.”

“No problem,” I said, as the cute waiter came over with a full coffee pot and another cup.

“Hi, Mikey,” Cramer said with a grin.

“Hi, Georgie,” Mikey replied, leading me to believe Cramer may be a regular here.

“Did you want menus?”

“I'll just have the regular,” Cramer said, “small salad with lemon, fat-free French dressing on the side.”

“I'm proud of you!” Mikey said, grinning. “We'll be swapping tank tops in no time!”

He then turned to me with a suggestively raised eyebrow. “And do you know what you want?”

Are those double-entendres really there, or do I just insist on seeing them?

“I'll have a cheeseburger and fries.” I chose not to return his serve, if it was one.

“So Arbuckle's a good salesman?” I asked when Mikey had gone off with our order.

“I don't hire bad salesmen,” Cramer said with a smile.

“What do you know about him? About his personal life, I mean.”

Cramer thought a moment. “Not too much. No reason to. I checked his references before I hired him, same as I always do. He's moved around quite a bit, but that's not uncommon in this business. Got a wife, two kids. And I get a feeling he's got something going on the side.”

“Yeah? What makes you think that?”

“Well, a couple of times his wife's called the office on days he wasn't working wanting to talk to him.”

“And you told her he wasn't working?”

“No, I don't like getting anybody into trouble. I'd just tell her he wasn't available right then. She called last night, as a matter of fact.”

“So you don't have him working double shifts or overtime, then?”

He shook his head. “I might if somebody was out sick, but we've got two salesmen on the lot at all times. I wish we
were
busy enough to need them to work double shifts!”

Mikey brought Cramer's salad and a small pitcher of dressing. “I'll be right back with your cheeseburger.” He had a really cute smile.

Hardesty!

“Do you mind if I start?” Cramer asked. “I don't like to be gone too long from the lot.”

“Please.”

He squeezed a lemon slice over his lettuce, then looked at me.

“So tell me what you've found out.”

I did. About Arbuckle's new car and his wife's explanation of how he got it, about seeing his work car in Judi's driveway, and I had just opened the envelope of pictures when Mikey came with my cheeseburger. When he'd gone, I slid the envelope across the table to Cramer, and he opened it a bit hesitantly. His face went from pink to grey to red as he looked at them, one after the other, then again. Then he sat the photos down and slapped himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand.

“Now,” I said before he could speak, “there may very well be a simple explanation for all this. Arbuckle may have come into money from another source—gambling, maybe, and he didn't want his wife to know. And maybe he and your niece are really in love, or…” I shrugged, “maybe he conned Judi into somehow doctoring the books to give him money…‘for a divorce' would sound like a good reason. I don't know, but I really feel you or I should have a talk with both of them to see what's really going on.”

“Thanks, but I'll do it myself. I'll talk to Judi first, and if it's true that she has been shaving money from the company for
whatever
reason…well….” He sat silent for another minute, shaking his head. “Why didn't I
see
it?” he asked, more of himself than of me. “Judi's a sweet kid, way too innocent for her own good. She's always been painfully shy. She's never had a boyfriend, that I know of. And I've noticed…
now
I notice…that lately she seems to have become more outgoing…happier. Why the
hell
didn't I
see
it?”