“Yes.”
He ushered me into a small office that contained a desk and no dental equipment. There was a single chair at the desk and he motioned for me to sit there. I actually waited about 20 minutes for him to return. A picture of a young boy and girl sat on the desk. So did a picture of a woman, who looked wife-like. I looked around for more pictures, but didn't see any.
Dr. Harrington came bustling in, looking somewhat agitated, sat down on the edge of the desk and said, “Where did you say you were from…Lillian?”
I hadn't said. “North Carolina.”
“Is that where you knew Dr. Weiss?”
“Yes.”
“I heard that he died. From something very strange. A food allergy, I think.”
“He was allergic to shellfish. It was a long-time problem. I don't suppose your parents ever mentioned it.”
“No. But I remember meeting him a few times. I was a teenager when Fiat Money Madness was published. Dad had been working on a book, but I never heard a title. He suffered a stroke just before Fiat Money Madness was published. I dimly remember my mother being very upset about something-not just my Dad's condition-but I was fuzzy about the details at the time. Thinking back, it probably had to do with the book.”
“What is your mother's name?”
“Ellen. Maybe you know her. Do you live at the Silver Acres Retirement Community?”
“Yes.” There was no point in denying it. “I know an
Ellen Tooner.”
“That's her. That's my mom. She remarried after Dad died. Now my stepdad's dead, too, of course.” Dr. Harrington became lost in thought for a minute. “What are you planning to do with the information you found out about my father?”
“Nothing. I'm just a retired mathematics professor, not an economist. When Benny-Dr. Tokamatsu-told me you were living here in La Jolla I thought you ought to know, if you didn't already. He seemed reluctant to tell you, himself. I guess he was afraid you'd stir up ghosts.”
Dr. Harrington fingered his mustache. “I suppose I could stir up something. My mother didn't because she was too busy taking care of my father, and probably because she didn't like to cause trouble. But if I brought it up now half the economists in the country would vilify me. I guess I'm like my mother in that respect; I'm living a pretty good life and I don't want it to change.”
“Dr. Harrington, I'd like to ask you a question that's a little bit off the subject. Do you play bridge?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Did your parents play bridge?”
“They taught me how to play.”
“Did they ever play bridge with Gerald Weiss and his wife?”
“There was a faculty bridge group; they met at our house from time to time. I'm sure Dr. and Mrs. Weiss were part of it.”
“Gerald-Dr. Weiss-was playing bridge when he died. In fact, now I remember that your mother was sitting at his table. He had just been dealt a very unusual hand-13 diamonds.”
“Wow! I never had a hand like that.” His surprise seemed genuine.
“Somebody told me that Dr. Weiss had been dealt 13 diamonds once before. Do you remember your parents ever mentioning that?”
“No, I don't.”
I decided to shut up; I was beginning to sound like an interrogator. I thanked Dr. Harrington for his time. He thanked me for telling him about the book. I gathered that this may have supplied a missing piece to his perception of his father's life.
As I walked out of his office I wondered if his good life was about to change. I liked him and didn't wish him any ill fortune. It occurred to me that I could help to keep it from changing by doing nothing. Perhaps justice had already been served. An eye for an eye.
Nobody wanted me to be involved, anyway. Albert didn't. Tess didn't. Carol Grant didn't. The ladies of the lunch committee-the former lunch committee-didn’t. Why not just forget the whole thing?
Sandra, Winston and Mark impatiently waited for me in the parking lot. We had the rest of the day to enjoy ourselves in Southern California since we weren't flying home until the next day. I resolved to have some fun.
CHAPTER 16
“Okay, Tess, are you ready to review the evidence to date?”
“Ready when you are.”
Tess sat on my couch with her yellow pad, her pen poised for writing. We had just returned from our Monday morning water aerobics class and the endorphins flowed in our bodies. Or maybe acid flowed in our stomachs. Tess had decided that I was incorrigible and would never drop the case, so she saw her job as trying to keep me out of trouble. I poured her a cup of coffee, which she promptly smothered with cream and sugar. I poured myself a cup and left it black.
“Let's start with Gerald's will. First, he left $500,000 to Silver Acres.”
“A goodly sum of money. And people have been known to kill for an inheritance, but in this case that would be weird because the money is going to a nonprofit organization.”
“Right. Next, he's leaving $100,000 to his grandniece, who is apparently supporting a surfer. But she inherited the house she lives in and makes big bucks-or at least big compared to what our generation made. I did some chatting with her surfer boyfriend and asked him whether April had had a vacation recently-very innocently, as if I were concerned for her health. He said no, not for six months. She has taken some business trips, but nothing to North Carolina. There's no evidence that she has been here during the last two years or that she has any connection with anyone here.”
“Besides,” Tess said, making a note, “from what you've said about her, in some ways you wish she were your granddaughter instead of Sandra.”
I laughed. “Well, Sandra could use an attitude adjustment in regard to men. The other significant provision of Gerald's will-actually, an attachment-is forgiving Dora a $25,000 loan. Dora told me she didn't know about Gerald's forgiveness provision, which is actually more incriminating than if she had known about it. And from the way she almost fainted when I mentioned it, I believe it was a complete surprise to her.”
“And you said Gerald's copy of the note mysteriously disappeared.”
“I don't know how mysterious it was but the lawyer said he hadn't found it. Anyway, the fact that she owed Gerald money gives Dora a theoretical motive. Let's move on to other evidence. Ida-I believe the word is, allegedly-sleeping with Wesley, our beloved bridge leader. If Gerald had found out and threatened to tell Wesley's wife…”
“Now it sounds like a soap opera.” Tess made more notes. “Wesley could be an assistant or an accessory, or something. Instead of narrowing down the motives and suspects, it seems like they're expanding.”
“I know,” I admitted. “I guess I'm not cut out for this detective business. I prefer everything to be mathematically precise. And there's one more thing that I've only just touched on with you. Ellen used to live in San Diego and was married to an economist who worked with Gerald. And…Gerald apparently took credit for work Ellen's husband had done that helped Gerald get the Nobel Prize.”
“Aha! The plot thickens, as they say. So there's a revenge motive for Ellen. Didn't you say you talked to Ellen's son in San Diego? I wonder how she likes that.”
It didn't take us long to find out. A few minutes later the phone rang; it was Ellen. She got right to the point. “My son said that you talked to him.”
I admitted it.
“How dare you sneak around behind my back? How dare you talk to my son as if I were a murderer?”
“I didn't say you were a murderer. I didn't even say that a murder had been committed. But I did tell him
