“Oh right, the item that sparked everything.” She picked up a thin file and handed it to me. “I’m real sorry about that. I had your information tucked right over here. I made copies of the documents for you, and I guess my colleague didn’t realize it. Things got a bit hairy here on Saturday, and I must have stuck your envelope in the wrong place. We were up to our patooties in . . .”
I borrowed Dominic’s word. “Jackasses?”
She threw back her head and laughed. A few readers glanced up in surprise. “We call them patrons. But that particular group is a bit special.”
“I figured that out. So do I owe you anything for the copies?”
“All part of the service.”
I took the envelope to the nearest table, carefully keeping my back turned to a man I suspected of being in the crabby crowd from Saturday. I sat down and opened the file, with a mounting sense of suspense. The first photocopy was an article about Crawford titled “Woodbridge’s Wandering Son Dead at Thirty-Six.” The second was a copy of an obituary.
My reading was interrupted by a strident voice from across the reference room. “That’s her, all right. I’m surprised she’s not in jail.”
“Just a matter of time, I hear,” another voice answered, then sniffed.
Luckily my spine was already straight. I raised my nose and sailed out. That would be my last trip to this particular library.
As soon as I passed through the door to the fresh air, I lifted the obit, reading as I went. My hand stopped in midair. My mouth went dry.
Henley, Crawford Lincoln.
Accidentally in San Diego, CA, Dec. 3, 1970, in his thirty-sixth year. He was predeceased by his parents James Washington Henley and Cecily Beryl Crawford of Woodbridge. He is survived by his wife Laura (Lo Bello), his infant son, Dominic, and his cousins Helen Henley, Randolph Henley, and 0livia Henley Simonett. Private services will be held in Woodbridge and in San Diego at a later date.
Keep a complete outfit in your closet, ready for unexpected social events.
17
I gripped the steering wheel of the Miata so hard it should have bent. What a dimwit I’d been, letting Dominic Lo Bello lead me on. Just plain empty-headed.
Take our time, indeed. Meet his
mom
. Oh yeah,
right
. And would she be Laura Lo Bello? Mother of Dominic Henley? Crawford’s infant son would be now in his late thirties. You didn’t have to be a detective to figure it out.
I hated to think how far things might have gone if I hadn’t found out Dominic was probably the Henley heir. Correction: I mean if I hadn’t found out he was a lying slacker who
wanted
to be the next Henley heir.
I zigged and zagged a block from the library then decided I’d better pull over before I rammed an eighteen-wheeler to let off steam. I sat in my little car and yelled. I pounded that poor steering wheel until my hands hurt. A passing dog walker gave me a startled look and scuttled off toward the wooded hills at the end of town. I took a long series of deep breaths. Was there something about me that attracted cheating creeps? And why did Dominic lie in the first place? What could he gain by hiding his relationship to the Henleys?
A new and awful thought hit my brain like a grenade. Dominic had already been in town when Miss Henley died, clearing a serious impediment to Olivia’s fortune. Had he killed her? Had I given him some information that would make whatever nasty plan he had even easier? I’d told him about Pepper. Maybe
he’d
tipped off the police and alerted the media.
I closed my eyes and leaned back on the headrest. It gave my bruised fists a break, but it didn’t help much. I needed someone to talk to, but everyone I might expect to vent to was unavailable. I left long crabby messages for Jack, Sally, and even Margaret. I gave my opinion about Dominic’s character and shared what I intended to tell him to his face at the Henley House at seven. The calls didn’t dissipate my anger; in fact, they helped me to develop a few new choice phrases to fling at the dirty little liar.
I’d no sooner hung up from leaving the last message when Jack called back.
“He wants you to meet him at Henley House?” he said. “Have you forgotten you found a body there? Listen, I’m meeting a guy at five thirty about some security installations for the shop. I should be free before seven. I’ll meet you at Henley House. Don’t go in without me.”
“I need to do this myself. I’m a big girl.”
“You’re a tiny little big girl. I don’t plan to hold your hand when you tell that spotted snake what you think of him, but I’ll be there for you. Make sure you wait for me.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Uh, promise.”
“Fine, I promise.”
Spotted snake? I liked that.
Ramona must have tried to call while I was talking to Jack.
“Charlotte? Ramona here. You sure stormed out of here like your tail was on fire. I hope you weren’t sick or something. Anyway, you left the rest of the file I had for you. I’m not sure if you read it. It has some additional information about Crawford Henley and his family. Interesting, if tragic. It’s at the information desk with your name on it. Tell them it’s on the second shelf, in case I’m not around and they’re playing three blind mice.”
I was steeling myself to drive back to the library when I caught sight of Lilith loping along on the other side of the street. She looked more forlorn than ever. Her hair had wilted in the drizzle. She bent forward under the weight of an overstuffed backpack. I had a pretty good idea what that meant: obviously, some people had way more trouble than I did. So what if I’d been deceived? Big whoop. Lilith had been fired unjustly, she’d lost her car and had her bike stolen, her education was threatened, and unless I was wrong, she’d lost her apartment. I made a U-turn and pulled in beside her. Up close, her eyes were swollen and red. Not such a good look with the purple hair. The stench of smoke clung to her.
“Hop in,” I said.
She gave me a sullen look. “I don’t need you taking pity on me.”
“Actually, I’m kind of hoping you’ll feel sorry for me.”
“You? Why?”
“Total absolute betrayal. I need a shoulder to cry on. Are you available?”
She brightened. “Bring it on.”
Together we barely managed to stuff Lilith’s backpack into the Miata. I had a sick feeling we were carrying everything she’d been able to salvage. I raised an eyebrow.
She shrugged. “My apartment’s toast.”
Before I could say anything, she said, “And I’ll survive.”
She lowered herself into the passenger seat and we spun off. For obvious reasons, I wanted a café where I hadn’t gazed into a certain person’s cheating eyes.
“How about Betty’s?” I said. “It’s far enough out of town that I might not be recognized.”
“Sounds good.” Lilith managed a pale smile. “I love diners. And no one recognizes me anywhere anyhow.”
I smiled back at her. Whatever problems I had, I had family, luckily far away, friends, luckily close by, a career, which might someday recover from the setbacks of the last week, a lovely secure place to live, and two velvety dogs to snuggle up with over the next couple of days as I sulked over Dominic’s duplicity.
Who did Lilith have aside from me?
As far as I could tell, not a single soul.
Betty’s was a happening spot for truckers, retired guys, and anyone who liked a genuine retro bargain. Inside was an ongoing homage to 1956.
“But why would he lie about who he was?” Lilith said, as we raced a pair of long-haulers to the last empty booth.
“I have no idea.” I slid onto the cracked red leather banquette. Betty herself began her slow shuffle over to take our orders.
Lilith picked up the plastic-coated menu. “Would you have avoided him if you knew he was one of the Henleys?”
I didn’t even need a menu. Betty’s club sandwiches are the stuff of legend. “Probably not. It wouldn’t have made any difference to me. So why the deception?”
“He’s a scumbag, for sure. Some guys are like that. But you were bound to find out.”
I nodded. “I guess that didn’t matter to him. He planned to move on.”
“That’s real sleazy.”
Betty might be pushing eighty, but she was quick enough with the famous club sandwiches. Unfortunately, by then, just thinking about Dominic’s deception had ruined my appetite.
Lilith picked up one of the giant hand-cut fries. “Would he inherit from Miss Henley too?”
“She wasn’t really wealthy and she left most of her estate to St. Jude’s for the scholarship fund.”
“Oh right. I hear they’re calling it the Helen Henley Memorial Scholarship Fund.”
“Then her own home and Henley House go to the historical society along with some money for renovations. Maybe Dominic could challenge the will. I’m not sure. But you know what’s worst of all?”
She shook her head and popped the fry into her mouth.
“I actually sent him out there to Stone Wall Farm.”
Lilith interrupted. “What do you mean, you sent him? He’s been around before, taking pictures.”
“But I told him to cozy up to Olivia.”
“He’s already spent lots of time with Olivia.”
“What?”
“Sure. She liked him just fine. He brought her flowers once. Another time he took her for a spin in her wheelchair in the garden. I’ve seen them chatting.”
I gasped. “That’s his scheme. He gets to know her, then eventually she finds out who he is, and abracadabra, she changes her will in his favor. Maybe that’s why he lied. He’s keeping it a secret from
Olivia
until the time is right.”
“Once again, I’ve got to ask, why deceive? Olivia would love to have a nice nephew to leave her money to. She’s all alone in the world.”
I said, “And the only reason she’s alone in the world is because Helen died.”
“Well, yeah. And Randolph, of course.”
“But that was a while ago. Why did you mention Randolph? Did you know him?”
“Sure. He used to visit Olivia all the time. He made her laugh. He always made sure she got out of the building. For a walk, if she was stable enough. He’d wheel her in the chair if she was having a wobbly day. The same kind of thing that Dominic was doing recently, only it was a lot more fun with Randolph. Balloons on the wheelchair, party hats, noisemakers, that kind of thing.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“You look surprised.”
“I am. Miss Henley told me he was cruel and miserable.”
“No way. He used to join her in the dining room for dinner. He’d play card tricks and tell jokes. We were all bent over laughing. He’d even take the time to talk to Gabe. He might have been a funny old guy in these weird suits that needed cleaning, but everyone liked him. Olivia was crazy about Randolph.”
“I remember the suits, and the grubby ties. But I had a totally different impression.”
Lilith curled her lip. “Consider the source. Originally, I think Olivia was planning to leave Randolph a pile of money. I heard that she changed her will to include Stone Wall Farm only after he died.”
Lilith stopped talking and took a large bite out of her club sandwich. I had a pretty good idea she hadn’t eaten that day at all.
After chewing and swallowing, Lilith said, “Olivia changed a lot after Randolph was killed. This last year has been very hard on her. And then Helen’s death upset her even more. Helen didn’t come much when Randolph was alive, but she did her duty afterward.”
“Wait a minute. You said after Randolph was killed. He died before I moved back to Woodbridge. Did you mean that someone murdered him?”
“He had a terrible accident. He tripped as he was crossing the street and got hit by a truck. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, just a sad thing. But it’s not like dying in your bed at ninety-nine.”
“But it makes me wonder.”
Lilith stared at me over her cup of hot chocolate. “You mean what if someone pushed Randolph?”
“Face it, with Randolph and Helen gone, there’s no one between Olivia and Dominic.”
“So what will you do? Go to the police?”
An image of Pepper, face skeptical and arms crossed, flashed through my brain. “I’m pretty sure they won’t believe my speculations.”
“And stay away from that guy, Dominic.”
“I intend to after tonight. I’m meeting him tonight at Henley House, of all places. He’s got something to show me, and I plan to tell him to get lost.”
“Meeting him at Henley House? Real bad idea, if you ask me.”
I chuckled. “It would be, but my friend Jack’s riding shotgun.”
“I’ll come along too, if you want.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I’ll be fine with Jack. But in fact, I do have a small errand I need done. Can you pick up a file for me at the library? It’s more information on Crawford Henley’s family. Second shelf behind the reference desk. My name is on it. If there’s any question about it, just call me. Does your cell phone number still work?”
She patted her pocket. “Yup. It’s about all I have left.”
“Excellent.” I handed her a business card. “Can you drop the file off at this address later?”
“Piece of cake.”
“Speaking of cake,” I said, “Betty’s known for her devil’s food special. And chocolate is my drug of choice.”
Just when I expected that nothing would ever go right for me again, my phone rang.
“This is Glenda Baillie.”
“Oh!”
“You called about my mom, Wynona Banks?”
“Yes, I am very sorry for your loss. I am told that your mother was a wonderful woman. That she was extremely kind and caring in her dealings with Mrs. Simonett.”
“She sure loved Olivia.” I heard a quaver in her voice as she spoke. “In your message you said that you thought her shooting had something to do with Helen Henley’s death.”
“Yes, I do. And I have some—”
“The police didn’t seem to think that.”
“No. They prefer to think it was random. But Olivia Simonett has a huge fortune, and I think someone is getting rid of anyone in the way of it.”