April laughed. “I'll remember that next time I feel like plowing into somebody.”
Between stops at the dry cleaners, the bank, the supermarket and assorted other places, we carried on a running conversation about Gerald. I told her all I knew about Gerald's life at Silver Acres.
April said, “I was 20 when Uncle Gerry moved to North Carolina. Before that, I had lived close to him all my life. My mother was his niece. Although I don't have much memory of her I suspect that he looked at her as the daughter he never had. When she died he transferred his affection to me. He was always doing things for me, buying me things. He even helped pay for my college education. I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised about his will.
“I wanted to go back for his memorial service, but the company I work for didn't consider him a close enough relative to give me time off and the airlines weren't too keen on giving me a bereavement fare, either.”
April parked and dashed into a store. She did everything at top speed, including talking. When she returned I asked, “Do you play bridge?”
“Yes. In fact Uncle Gerry taught me how to play.” She giggled. “I played a lot in college-when I should have been studying.”
I told her about the hand Gerald held when he died.
“Thirteen diamonds! Wow, that's fantastic. I never had a hand like that.”
“Neither have I.”
I was about to tell her that the hand had been a fraud and lead in to the possibility that Gerald had been murdered-she seemed to have a level head on her shoulders and I thought she could take it-when she said, “You know, Uncle Gerry was dealt a hand like that once before.”
I was immediately all ears. “Thirteen diamonds?”
“Yes. It was a long time ago, before I was born. But he used to talk about it all the time. And the strange thing was, he considered it to be bad luck, not good luck.”
“Why was that?”
“Because the man who was his partner when he got the hand was killed in an auto accident two days later.”
“Did he ever tell you the name of the man who was killed?”
“If he ever mentioned it, I have forgotten it.”
“How about any of the other people he was playing with that night.”
April shook her head as she drove through a light that had turned pink.
I told her about my theory concerning Gerald's death, hoping that it wouldn't make her driving any more exciting than it already was. The news naturally upset her and she asked questions. This led to a discussion of the shellfish and I asked if she knew about his allergy.
“It doesn't ring a bell. I guess it wasn't something he talked about every day.”
“Have you heard of a professor named Maxwell Harrington?”
“No.”
I decided not to tell April about the possibility that Gerald had appropriated Dr. Harrington's work as his own. Instead, I asked, “Do you know of anybody-associates, friends, acquaintances-who had a reason to dislike him?”
She thought about this for a while but couldn't come up with any names.
Before we returned to her house she drove me to the beach where we took a stroll near the pier. A hotel there featured bungalows on the pier, sitting directly above the water. Various types of people walked, ran or biked on the path by the beach, including a man with a dark tan wearing a long, flowing Indian headdress and little else, especially in back.
April laughed when I did a double-take at his retreating backside and said, “So you still look at buns.”
“I’m not dead yet.”
We returned to her house; I helped her carry in groceries and told her that I was expecting a call from Sandra at noon to confirm when the touring trio should pick me up. April asked where they were and I told her.
“I love the San Diego Zoo!” she gushed. “And I haven't been there for ages. Have you ever been to the Zoo?”
“Yes, but not for a long time.” I had gone with my husband, Milt, and Albert, when Albert was young.
“It's been greatly improved. You've got to see it again. Why don't we go right now?”
“We'll miss Sandra's call. And there's no guarantee we'll run into them there. It's a big place.”
“I'll put a message on my answering machine telling them where we are and to meet us at the entrance at four. It will take them that long to see it all, anyway.”
Modern technology is wonderful when you use it properly. April changed the message and then decided she had to change her clothes. She put on another T-shirt that was too short; it didn't reach her navel. When she came close to me I saw that the reason her navel looked funny was because she had a ring in it. Ouch! I'd heard of other places where girls wore rings that would have shocked my friends at Silver Acres. April also had on a red miniskirt with a slit. As if it needed that.
However, I caught her enthusiasm. Suddenly I wanted to go to the zoo more than anything else.
We ran into the others beside the mountain goat exhibit. Mountain goats rank high among my favorite creatures; they exemplify freedom to me by being able to bound effortlessly up and down the steepest cliffs. I, myself, have acrophobia and prefer to stay in the valleys.
Sandra and Mark held hands. With his free hand Mark pushed a sleeping Winston in a rented stroller. I introduced April to Sandra and we joined forces. It was one of those beautiful sunny days, for which Southern California is famous. Fortunately, the dry air kept the heat in check and the tree-lined paths and roads provided some shade.
I walked much farther than I usually do, even negotiating the hills without much trouble. When I got tired we took the bus tour and saw even more. The animals were well cared for and the zoo was clean. Some of the rarer animals no longer existed in the wild and the San Diego Zoo played an important part in preserving them.
When I absolutely couldn't walk any more I suggested that we all eat dinner together. April asked if she could bring her boyfriend and I let her call him on my cell phone. We met him at a pizza place. Pizza wasn't served at Silver Acres and my mouth watered for some pepperoni.
April's boyfriend was named Ron. He looked like a beach boy, with his long blond hair and deep tan. A surfboard fastened to the top of his old car completed the picture. He wore cut-off jeans and a shirt with the sleeves also cut off. It's a good thing we weren't dining at Tres Chic. He did not emanate the aura of a job. It appeared that he had a sugar mama in April.
We hadn't left the animals at the zoo. The pizza place was full of screaming young humans; apparently a birthday party was in progress. In order to have a prayer of hearing any conversation I insisted we sit in the corner farthest from the ordering counter.
When the pizzas came, everybody dug in with youthful appetites. Even Winston ate small pieces fed to him by Sandra and made it clear he wanted more. He gravely watched the children racing around but didn't take part in the noise-making. He was a cut above that sort of nonsense. As a doting great-grandmother, I predicted a bright future for him.
The other four adults also drank beer, in addition to eating pizza, but Sandra just sipped hers, as she attended to her motherly duties.
When the pace of eating slowed down, Mark said, “Lillian, Sandy filled me in a bit on what you're doing here. When you took advantage of me in the bar you didn't tell me you were investigating a murder.”
“I didn't know whether it was a murder,” I said. “In fact I still don't.”
“From what you've told me,” April said, “it looks very suspicious. Since I'm almost the only surviving member of Uncle Gerry's family, I owe it to him to get to the bottom of this. I'll help you in any way I can.”
And because Uncle Gerry was very kind to you in his will, I thought. I thanked her.
Mark said, “I was a little flip when you asked me whether I could recognize the lady who bought the lobster. I didn't take your question seriously. I've thought more about it; if I could get a good look at her and perhaps hear her speak, I might be able to identify her.”
