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Authors: Dorien Grey

Tags: #Mystery

The Popsicle Tree (8 page)

BOOK: The Popsicle Tree
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“I was really worried about him,” Samuel said, “but he'd call every now and then just to let us know he was all right. And then he met you, and…well, I'm glad he did. He needs someone in his life.”

“Thanks, Samuel. That was nice of you to say.”

He shrugged. “Truth's truth,” he said.

*

I'd volunteered to run to the store to pick up a few things Jonathan decided he needed for dinner, and I ran into Carlene and Kelly coming into the building just as I was. Kelly was carrying a large children's book.

“Look what I got!” he exclaimed happily, holding the book out to me. Since he obviously wanted me to take it, I did, switching the grocery bag from one arm to another. Its whimsical, bright cover practically jumped out at you—a monkey and a penguin standing paw-in-flipper in the jungle, looking up at a beautiful tree laden with Popsicle fruit. The name of the book was
The Popsicle Tree
, and I was surprised that I immediately recognized the artist's style. Sure enough, there under the author's name was “Illustrations by Catherine Tunderew”—the ex-wife of an ex-client.

Small world, eh, Hardesty?
I thought.

I handed the book back to Kelly with a smile.

“That looks like a great book!” I said. “Maybe you'll let Joshua read it sometime.”

“Read it to me now!” Kelly urged. Luckily his mother stepped in.

“Dick's busy right now, honey. We'll read it when we get upstairs.” She looked at me with a smile.

“It's been a long day,” she said.

*

Dinner was pleasant, and Jonathan had gone out of his way to make it special. It was clear that Joshua was getting tired, since he found it hard to sit still, constantly turning around to look at the fish, and he played with his food more than ate it. He had insisted that Bunny, his stuffed rabbit, have a chair next to him, and kept trying to give it some of his carrots. And after dinner, as soon as his father told him he could leave the table, he hopped down and raced back into the living room. A few minutes later he came back into the kitchen carrying a children's book. He came over to me—for some unknown reason—and handed me the book as Kelly had done earlier.

“Read me this,” he said.

Sheryl looked at him until she caught his eye. “Did you say ‘please'?” she asked.

He turned back to me. “Please.”

“Well, I'll tell you what,” Sheryl said to Joshua. “Why don't we go get you ready for bed, and then maybe Uncle Dick will come in and read to you.” She turned to me. “Would you do that, Dick?”

“Sure.” I'd noticed all day that both Sheryl and Samuel had gone out of their way to encourage Joshua to feel comfortable around us. I knew Sheryl was strongly torn about this whole vacation thing. On the one hand she was excited about having probably the first chance since Joshua was born to be alone with Samuel for more than a day or two; on the other hand, she was extremely hesitant to be apart from Joshua for ten whole days.

Since we only had two double beds in the apartment, Joshua would be sleeping with Samuel and Sheryl. That way, he'd get accustomed to what would be “his” room and bed while his folks were gone, and give him a special last night with Mom and Dad.

Jonathan, Samuel, and I were in the living room when Sheryl came out of the bedroom with Joshua, dressed in Dr. Denton pajamas (with the drop-seat feature and built-in slippers) carrying Bunny in one arm and his book in the other.

“Ready for your story?” I asked, and Joshua nodded.

“Can I come, too?” Jonathan asked the boy.

“Okay,” Joshua said.

We both got up and escorted him into the bedroom for story time.

*

Everyone was up early the next morning to give us all time to shower, get dressed, and have breakfast. Sheryl was nervous, though she tried not to show it, and Joshua was too busy playing with his cereal to notice. Sheryl, Samuel, and Jonathan would take Joshua to day care, meet the women who ran it, and make sure Joshua was settled in. Then they would come back to the apartment, get their things, and continue their trip to California and Hawaii, while Jonathan went off to work—he'd told his boss he'd be about an hour late.

The four of them left before I did, after a minor tantrum by Joshua—quickly squashed by Samuel—over the boy's insistence that Bunny go to school with him.

I shook hands with Samuel and got a hug from Sheryl, both of whom thanked me again for letting Joshua stay with us, and then they were gone.

And the adventure begins!
I thought.

*

At the office I did my morning coffee/newspaper/crossword puzzle routine waiting for the DMV offices to open, then called Bil to ask him to check on the license plate number Carlene had given me.

He called back within the hour with the information. The car belonged to one Frank Santorini, 10335 Kurt Street. I recognized the name. I thanked Bil, and as soon as we hung up I reached for the yellow pages, looked under “Investigators, Private,” and found the listing I was looking for, Santorini Detective Agency. I dialed the number.

“Santorini Detective Agency,” a very female voice announced. Well, he obviously was doing better than I was; he had a secretary.

“Is Mr. Santorini in?”

“He's on the phone. Would you care to wait?”

“For a minute.”

There was a click, and the tinny strains of “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?” came over the wires.

Muzak!
One of my mind-voices whispered in a dutifully awed tone.
The guy has a secretary
and
Muzak!

It was a
long
song, and I was about to hang up, having long since determined that not only did I not know the way to San Jose, but had no desire to find out, when there was another click and, “Frank Santorini.”

“Mr. Santorini, my name is Dick Hardesty. I'm a private investigator. I have a client who claims you have been following her. I was wondering what you might tell me about it.”

There was only the slightest of pauses, and then, “What is your client's name?”

“Carlene DeNuncio.”

Another pause, then, “Sorry, never heard of her. And even if I did, as you know I wouldn't be obliged to tell you.”

So much for professional courtesy,
I thought. “I see,” I said, mildly pissed. “Well, I just hoped you might be able to help me.”

He chuckled. “Well, Mr. Hardesty, that's why we get paid the big bucks, to find out things on our own. Good luck.”

And he hung up.

*

I was just getting ready to go home a little early when the phone rang.

“Hardesty Investigations.”

“Dick. It's Jonathan.”

Well, of course it is!
I thought, until the tone of his voice sunk in. He was speaking very calmly, but something was definitely wrong.

“What's wrong?”

“I came to pick up Joshua, and the Department of Children's Services was here. They took Kelly!”

“Took Kelly?” I echoed. “Why?”

“I don't know,” he said, his voice still calm, though I knew it was difficult for him.

“Where's Carlene?”

“I don't know! Can you call someone and find out what's going on?”

“Of course I'll try.” I was trying to mask my own concern. “Do you know where Carlene works?”

“Richardson Engineering. She told me once.”

“Well, you take Joshua home, and I'll meet you there. I'll see what I can find out before I come home, so if I'm a little late…”

“I understand. I'll see you at home.”

I immediately looked up Richardson Engineering and dialed the number, hoping someone was still there.

“Richardson Engineering,” a woman's voice answered.

“Yes, I was wondering if Carlene DeNuncio might still be there?”

There was a long pause, and then a very strained, “May I ask who's calling?”

I did not like the way she sounded. “A friend, and I really would like to speak with her if she's there.”

Another long pause. “Let me transfer you to Mr. Richardson.”

Maybe Richardson Engineering didn't allow their employees to accept phone calls, and I was about to be chewed out. That's what I'd have liked it to have been, but my gut told me otherwise.

“Emmet Richardson.”

“I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Richardson, but I'm trying to reach one of your employees, Carlene DeNuncio. I'm a friend. My name is Dick Hardesty.”

Silence, then a clearing of the throat, and, “I'm terribly sorry to tell you this, Mr. Hardesty,” he said, causing my heart to drop into my stomach, “but Ms. DeNuncio was struck by a car on her lunch hour. I'm afraid she's dead.”

CHAPTER 4

Oh, JeezusJeezusJeezus!

I left the office immediately and headed for home. I didn't know how I was going to tell Jonathan. I knew how sensitive he was, and how easily his emotions get the best of him. But with Joshua there…I just hoped he could hold it together.

And even as I was thinking this, I knew I was going to be calling Mark Richman at police headquarters to find out everything I could about Carlene's death. It may have been an accident, but something told me it wasn't.

Jonathan and Joshua were in the living room, playing with some of Joshua's toys. Jonathan got up quickly and came over to give me a hug.

“What did you find out?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Let's go into the bedroom a minute.” He looked at me with a mixture of questioning and apprehension, but didn't say anything, following me as I left the living room. Joshua was busy talking to G.I. Joe and didn't notice. I closed the bedroom door quietly.

“What?” Jonathan demanded when we got into the bedroom, and I told him. I could just as well have punched him full force in the chest. His eyes went wide and he sat back down on the bed, hard, his eyes filling with tears.

“But what about Kelly?” he asked, his voice breaking. He clamped his lips together tightly so he wouldn't make any noise. I moved quickly over to him and pulled him to his feet and hugged him while he made soft
mmmph-mmmph-mmmph
sounds, his face buried against my neck.

“Uncle Jonathan!” Joshua yelled from the living room. “Come play!”

I sat him back down on the bed and said: “I'll go play with Joshua for awhile, while you get it together, okay?”

He nodded and I left the room, closing the door behind me.

“Hi, there, Joshua!” I said, going over to him.

“Where's Uncle Jonathan?” he asked, looking around.

“He's busy for a minute.” I sat on the floor beside him. “What are we playing?”

He reached over and handed me a cowboy doll—okay, okay, an “action figure.”

“Soldiers.”

*

As he had done with his mother when she was dying, Jonathan did a good job of hiding his feelings for Joshua's sake and I managed to keep my own concerns in check. Dinner itself was something of an extended skirmish. We had to use the suitcase-as-booster-seat so Joshua could reach the table and he took full advantage of his folks not being there to see just what he could get away with.

Jonathan lifted him into the chair and turned to the stove for something. Joshua immediately got down and followed him.

“You've got to sit down so we can have dinner,” Jonathan said.

“Why?”

“Because you can't eat standing up.”

“Yes I can,” the boy said matter-of-factly.

“No, you can't,” Jonathan replied calmly, picking him up and putting him back in his chair, then turning back to the stove.

As soon as Jonathan's back was turned, Joshua started to swing his legs to the side of the chair, preparing to get down again.

“Joshua,” I said, using the same calm but firm tone Samuel had used to get his attention.

He looked at me quickly, but stopped in mid-motion.

Dinner itself was macaroni and cheese and hot dogs, which Jonathan had learned from Sheryl was Joshua's favorite meal. As soon as the plate was set in front of him, he grabbed the hot dog and began eating it from his hand.

“Here, Joshua,” Jonathan said, reaching for the hot dog, “let me cut that up for you so you can use your fork.”

“No!” Joshua said, moving his hand—and the hot dog—out of Jonathan's reach.

This really was not a good time for a battle of wills, under the circumstances, but Jonathan handled it like a pro.

“Big boys always use a fork. I thought you were a big boy.”

“I am!” Joshua said a bit petulantly.

“Then…?” Jonathan asked, and with obviously great reluctance, Joshua put the hot dog back on his plate, where Jonathan cut it into several pieces for him, and handed him the fork.

BOOK: The Popsicle Tree
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