“How?”
I opened my purse, found the small mirror I kept there for vanity purposes and pulled it out. “Tie the string around this mirror and lower it into the duct. Then shine the flashlight on the mirror. When it is at the correct angle the light will reflect around the bend and we should be able to see in the mirror if anything's there.”
“Are you some kind of scientist?” Joe asked, with a hint of admiration in his voice.
“I'm a mathematician. But I know that with light rays the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection.”
Joe laughed and did as I suggested. I watched to make sure he tied the string around the mirror in such a way that the mirror wouldn't come loose and drop out. But he was obviously clever at this sort of thing and tied it securely, like a package.
He lowered the mirror down the shaft while I held the flashlight. Our heads were close together. In my former life I would have been thrilled, but time had taken its toll on my hormones.
I was actually somewhat dubious about how this would work because I thought it would be difficult to control the mirror, but Joe was very dexterous. He soon had it resting on the curve of the duct at the proper angle so that I was able to reflect the light of the flashlight off the mirror and around the bend. As I steadied the flashlight I caught my breath. Even my old eyes could see an object reflected in the mirror.
“It looks like a plastic container,” Joe said. He looked at me. “Lillian, you're a genius.”
The words had a sweet sound, coming from him. “Thanks for your help, Joe,” I said. “Now I'd better go.”
“Go where?”
“Well…to the police. They need to be here when the container is retrieved. There may be fingerprints…”
“We need to tell Carol,” Joe said, emphatically.
I had almost forgotten about Carol. “Does Carol need to know?”
“Of course. She's the boss.”
He left no room for argument. “Okay, you tell Carol,” I said. “I…have to get home to cook my son's dinner. We can call the police later.” I headed for the outside door across from the recreation room, the one we had exited from when the fire alarm went off.
“Come with me,” Joe said. “You're the one who had the brainstorm. You can explain to Carol why you thought there was something in the duct.”
Again, Joe left no room for argument. I whipped out my cellular phone and punched in Albert's number. He wasn't home yet, but I got his answering machine and left a message, saying that I was in Carol's office and that I would be home soon. I emphasized the word “soon.”
As we walked back down the hallway I desperately tried to think of what to say to Carol.
CHAPTER 27
Carol was talking on the telephone when we walked into her office, but she hung up almost immediately and said, “Well, hello, Lillian. I understand you attended the bridge club today.”
Did she have spies reporting every move I made?
“But aren't you here a little late?” she continued. “Albert will be expecting his dinner.”
I didn't like her tone. “I was just headed home now,” I said, trying to keep my voice pleasant. I remained standing.
“We found something,” Joe said.
Carol immediately turned her attention to him and said, “What did you find?”
Joe gave her a brief rundown of our activities. I watched Carol's eyes for a flicker of something, but I saw nothing.
When Joe finished, she said to me, “So you're still doing your detective work. I thought you had retired from that.”
“Almost.” I felt very uncomfortable. “But you're right. I really do have to get home.” I turned to walk out of Carol's office.
“Wait!”
Carol's voice hit me like an electric shock. I stopped in my tracks.
“We need to discuss this,” she said. “Joe, close the door please.”
The walls of Carol's office became prison bars.
“Sit down,” she said, and we both complied. “Now, Lillian, tell me exactly what you know or suspect.”
I looked at her and said nothing.
“When you leave here, what are you going to do?”
“Go home and cook Albert's dinner,” I said, automatically. “He's expecting me.”
“Will you go to the police?”
I remained silent.
“Don't you think we ought to go to the police?” Joe asked.
“Shut up!” Carol snapped at him.
He shut up but looked uncomfortable.
“Okay, let's go through this,” Carol said, suddenly looking edgier than I'd ever seen her. “We know that somebody put shellfish in the casserole and that's what killed Gerald. I'm sure it was an accident, but nobody has owned up to it, which has made you suspicious. It would have been easiest for Harriet to do, assuming she knew about Gerald's allergy, and she has a possible motive, but there is no evidence that she did it.”
I glanced at my watch. Albert would be getting home and wondering where I was and why dinner wasn't ready.
Carol saw my action and said, “You'll be home soon enough. Your theory, apparently, is that the shellfish was added to the casserole during the fire alarm evacuation. You went all the way to San Diego to dig up some dirt on Ellen, but she has an iron-clad alibi. So who does that leave as a suspect-Ida?”
I didn't dignify her question with an answer.
Carol looked me straight in the eye and said, “I suspect that you suspect somebody other than the people we've named so far.” The pencil she had been playing with snapped. “Let's investigate this a little further. You took the trouble to find out that Gerald's bequest to Silver Acres was $500,000, not $100,000, as I had said.
“Then somehow my calendar book disappeared from my purse at Albert's house and then reappeared at my office. This sort of thing doesn't usually happen without some human intervention. And Wesley is suddenly scrutinizing the Silver Acres books, even though he's shown little interest in them during the year-and-a-half he's been president of the residents' association. However, he won't find anything.”
“What are you driving at?” Joe asked.
“Lillian thinks that I had something to do with putting the shellfish in the casserole.”
“But that's not true!” Joe said.
“Of course not. But you know how these old ladies are when their minds start to go.”
“We were both in our offices when the alarm went off,” Joe said, looking at Carol. “Somebody turned on the alarm switch by the reception area, but since Ophah was at lunch we don't know who. We were both on the phone and by the time we hung up and came out of our offices the person had disappeared-apparently down the corridor leading to the dining room. Or maybe the alarm switch was faulty.”
That sounded suspiciously like the gospel according to Carol.
Joe continued, “The established procedure is for Carol and me to clear everybody out of the building. We started at the reception area and covered the whole building.”
“Do you each have your own route to clear the building,” I asked, trying to gain some control, “or do you go together?”
“We go separately,” Joe said before Carol could speak. “It's faster that way.”
“Was Carol carrying anything when you started out?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Joe said, positively.
I hoped that Albert would call and I wanted to waste time, so I said, “Clearing the building reminds me of a
