I slammed my fist on the desk. I wished I knew what he’d been about to tell me. I stared at my phone. I found Cody’s number and texted him.
Pls let me know how it went with Gifford. And stay safe.
I didn’t hold out much hope of him replying, and he didn’t. Back to packing for me. Murder or no murder, I was getting on that plane tomorrow, homeward bound.
Chapter 51
After I finished packing, I took myself for a stroll around Carmen’s neighborhood, soaking up the sight of flowers and other plants that simply didn’t grow outdoors in Indiana. I returned to change into the dress I’d worn to the reunion, plus leggings and a sweater. The wind from earlier hadn’t let up, and it felt like the milder weather of this week was about to take a more wintery turn. California winter, that is.
I didn’t see Liz’s VW in the parking lot of the Green Artichoke, but I went in, anyway. I was a little early. She’d been right. The bar was hopping. No hostess stood behind the counter in front, but I thought I spied a familiar face on the other side of the bar area and headed there. Sure enough, Grace Fujiyama stood around a beer-glass-filled high-top table with a half dozen men and women, all in snug yoga clothes. Paul’s roomie caught sight of me and waved.
“Hey, Robbie.”
“Hi, Grace.” I smiled. “Is this the beer-and-yoga group?”
“You got it. I teach an extra-strenuous Bikram class on Friday afternoons and then we head over here to reward ourselves.”
“And reverse all the benefits,” a lithe man said, his tan the dark golden color of wildflower honey.
“Not all of them,” Grace objected. “Do you want to join us?” she asked me.
“No, thanks. I’m having dinner with a friend, but she’s not here yet.”
Grace turned her back on the group and took a step away, motioning me to accompany her, lowering her voice. “Have you heard anything else about . . .” Her voice trailed off.
I shook my head. “Not really.” I didn’t think Paul’s poisoning was public knowledge yet, and I couldn’t break Mel’s trust, at least not with Grace.
“They questioned me some more today, the Gifford dude and another guy.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “The detective wanted me to go to the station, too, so he could record the interview. He was totally pressing me about who could have gotten into the apartment, about Paul’s friends, about how I knew him. It was crazy.”
“How did you come to share the place with Paul, anyway?”
“I’ve been friends with Taylor, his sister, for years. She comes to my classes and stuff. He told her he was looking for someone to share his apartment. I’d recently gotten divorced. It worked out fine.”
“The house where you live does seem a little, well—”
Grace laughed. “Shabby? It is. The landlord doesn’t care about the condition of the building very much, unfortunately. And frankly, the door locks and the windows aren’t very secure, but it’s also cheap rent. The place has always felt safe to me, but if somebody wanted to get in through the back or the side, I’m sure they could. You can’t see a thing through that huge firethorn hedge between the houses. Which I told the detective. He wasn’t very happy about it.”
She might have been at the station at the same time as Cody. “Did you happen to see a kid there, I mean, a college-age dude, longish blond hair?”
“In uniform? Like a cadet or something?”
“No, he was being questioned, too. He’s, uh, an acquaintance of mine.” I didn’t need to go into who Cody was.
She bobbed her head once. “Maybe I did see him. When an officer was showing me to the interview room, another one was taking a guy who looked like the one you described to the men’s room. He wasn’t in handcuffs or anything, but it looked like the officer was making sure he wasn’t alone in the hall, either.”
Whew. At least Cody hadn’t been arrested. I caught a movement in my peripheral vision. Liz was waving at me from the hostess station. I waved back.
“There’s my friend. Good to see you, Grace.”
“You, too. Enjoy your dinner.” She turned back to her friends.
Liz was now following the hostess to a table. I walked slowly to join her. Someone could have broken into Grace and Paul’s kitchen and put the stuff in his food. Someone who knew what Paul’s lunch box looked like. Zoe. This must have been why Gifford was asking Grace about the locks.
I reached the table where Liz had just sat and summoned a smile I wasn’t feeling. I slid into the chair opposite her.
“Hey, Robbie. I’m glad this worked out.”
“Me, too.” I took a second look at her. Liz’s silver hair looked tired tonight, and her slender shoulders slumped under a rainbow-striped knit tunic.
“Did you see somebody you knew in the bar?” she asked.
“Sort of. It’s Grace Fujiyama. She and Paul shared an apartment.”
“How do you know her?” Liz looked confused.
“I stopped by there the other day and we had a little chat. I don’t know her any more than that.” I focused on the menu. “I ate at the bar here with Jason Wong earlier this week. This looks like a more extensive selection. What do you recommend?”
When she didn’t answer, I looked up.
“You’ve been investigating, I can tell.” Her gaze was intent. “Does Grace know something about Paul’s death?”
“Actually, not a thing. Except she said the apartment’s locks and windows aren’t very secure.”
“So somebody could have broken in. But did the police ever figure out if he was poisoned?”
Our server showed up. I smiled to see it was Debbie again.
“Ladies, good evening,” she said.
“Hi, Debbie,” Liz said, clearly also acquainted with her. “This is my friend Robbie.”
“We actually met a few days ago. Hello, Robbie. Can I start you both
