before the police get here,” he whispered impatiently, “then they’ll still be committing an illegal act. And with ReeAnn keeping the real file, your husband’s lawyer can still have the information he needs.”
“He’s my ex-husband, okay?” I hissed fiercely. “And I thought you said it would be a Medical Management lady coming here today. What has Human Resources got to do with checking billing? Does Brandon ever do that?”
Chris shrugged grandly. “They’re scared.” And then, balanced precariously on his cast, he lumbered off after Brandon.
“Don’t remove anything, fellas!” I called after them. “My husband’s a cop and I’ll tell on you!” To ReeAnn I said softly, “The sheriff’s department is on its way?”
“Supposedly.” She eyed the telephone on the marble counter, as if debating which friend she should complain to next.
“Uh, I guess we’ll be going,” Macguire announced. His face was as sallow as I’d seen it since he’d been living with us. Despite his words, however, he didn’t seem to have the energy or the will to move.
“ReeAnn,” I whispered as I scooped up the back copies of Architectural Digest she’d spewed on the floor during her first manic phone call. “Can we please talk for a few minutes? It’s for Arch.”
“I don’t know where his homework is.”
“Please.”
“I have to answer the phone.” “I know you were romantically involved with my ex-husband,” I improvised. When I said this, ReeAnn shot Macguire a withering look. “It’s okay,” I added.
“I’m involved with somebody else right now, not an old geezer. And I was with him all Friday night. My new boyfriend can vouch for me, and I told the cops that, too.”
“Fine.” I tried to think. “Just tell me ? What was Suz Craig working on that she was trying to delegate? Delegate to you, I mean? It seems odd she’d ask you to do work for her, when she had a whole army of secretaries to choose from at ACHMO.”
ReeAnn snorted again, her trademark. “I’m not a secretary, I’m an assistant. And the stuff Ms. Crank had me do was penny-ante. ‘Make our dinner reservations.’ ‘Call Aspen Meadow Nursery. Get them to come out and fix my steps.’ “
When she seemed reluctant to go on, I prompted, “That’s it?”
“Well. Not exactly.” She bit the inside of her cheek, then confided, “It’s what John Richard told me she tried to delegate to him that was really weird, if you want to know the truth.”
“The truth would be great.” She leaned close. “She wanted him to put some stuff ? I guess it was papers or something ? in a safe place, somewhere the ACHMO people couldn’t find them.”
“What stuff? How do you know it was papers? The kind of papers they’re trying to find now?” Suddenly I remembered what John Richard had said to me on the phone: Suz had some kind of delicate material… . What material? I’d thought it related to Ralph Shelton, but was that wrong? “Are you sure it was papers?”
She shrugged indifferently. “Who knows?” The phone rang. ReeAnn answered it and started to redirect another patient. To my surprise Brandon Yuille suddenly appeared at my side. He flashed me his movie-star smile.
“Goldy? May I talk to you for a minute?”
“More Thai sauce?” I said brightly. “Please. Just right outside the front door. Just for a sec, if you don’t mind.”
I walked outside with him. I’d tell him what he wanted to know ? maybe ? if he’d answer a couple of questions, too. I made my voice pleasant. “Brandon, I was wondering… Was Suz Craig as hard to work for as some people say?”
His fine-featured face bloomed pink. “Some people thought she was… difficult.” His tone grew guarded.
“So, what people are we talking about?” He brushed my question away. “Goldy, there’s something important I need to ask you, but it’s… delicate.” Man, they all loved that word, like they had to rinse out some lingerie. “You know how folks going through a divorce will sometimes hide assets from each other? Like money?”
I laughed. “Of course I do. Who’s getting the divorce?”
He squirmed. “I … can’t say. But you know about hiding assets?”
“Sure. One person in a marriage hides assets, the other gets to hire a forensic accountant, as I had to do, to go through the books of the person doing the hiding. Sometimes you find the stash and sometimes you don’t. Lucky for me, I did.”
Brandon’s eyes, ordinarily deep brown, turned almost black. His voice became painfully earnest. “I promise, Goldy, if John Richard has given you anything to hide… we … I … need to know.”
I almost laughed again. I imagined a list of intimate ? make that delicate ? questions: Have you had cosmetic surgery? Do you dye your hair? How much do you weigh? which could develop into How much money do you make? Now, apparently, to that invasive list I could add: Has your abusive ex-husband given you anything incriminating to hide?
“Brandon,” I said with equal earnestness as the phone pealed again inside, “if my ex-husband had given me a bald eagle that he had shot and stuffed, I wouldn’t tell the ACHMO honchos.”
Brandon Yuille, my foodie buddy, turned on his heel and strode away. I immediately felt bad. I liked Brandon; I didn’t want to alienate him. From inside the office ReeAnn said, “What? Who? Yeah, she’s here. Goldy!”
When I went back into the office, Chris Corey had not reappeared and Macguire was still slumped in one of the chairs looking catatonic. As soon as Brandon found out the call wasn’t for him, he brushed past ReeAnn on his way back into the file rooms.
“Man!” ReeAnn exclaimed, gesturing with the phone. “What is his problem? Anyway, the phone’s for you.”
I sighed and walked back to the counter. “Yes?” I said tentatively into the receiver.
“Miss G.” Tom’s warm, calm, reassuring voice. “I had a feeling you’d be over there. Bad news, I’m afraid.”
“Go ahead.” “I warned you. The judge did it. John Richard made bail. He’ll be out in two hours, probably back up in Aspen Meadow by noon.”
“No.”
“Yes. Now listen, you’re a witness in this matter. He’s been warned not to talk to any witnesses, but you know how poorly this guy follows directions. If he shows up at the house, or does anything to try to contact you, you ignore him, understand? Call us. We don’t want this case ruined before it even starts.”
?Okay.” My voice was on novocaine.
“Goldy? Don’t want to press a point here, but you’re in danger. You found the body. You saw him drive up with the flowers. You’re the main person who can testify about his physical abusiveness. He’s in some kind of mental state, and he may just want to rid himself of you altogether. Is Macguire there? I thought we agreed you weren’t going to go poking around through files.”
“I’m just here at the office for a few minutes. And I’m not doing any poking through files. The people poking are the ACHMO folks. Are your people on their way? ReeAnn said they were.”
“They should be there in five minutes. Be sure you’re in your kitchen in two hours, okay? I’m warning you, Goldy. I don’t want you hurt. Okay, please put me on with that secretary so I can get her to kick those ACHMO guys out until our people get there.”
I handed ReeAnn the phone, then told her that Macguire and I had to go. She tossed her ponytail in a suit- yourself gesture. But Macguire and I were not going straight home. We had someone else to warn.
18
As we drove away from the office, I waited for a barrage of questions from Macguire. Ordinarily, the teenager took great interest in criminal cases. But he regarded me dully when I said we had one further stop to make.
“You don’t want to go right home?” he asked. “You’re always talking about how dangerous the Jerk is.”
“I promised Arch I’d ask a few questions.” He shrugged and was silent. When we rounded the lake, spumes of dust were rising from the LakeCenter parking lot. The doll-show organizers had arrived. Without enthusiasm, I realized I needed to talk to them, too, before I went home, so that made two stops. I pulled into the lot of the sleek wood-paneled Lakeview Shopping Center, a two-story, L-shaped constellation of boutiques and offices that had recently been constructed on the old site of a gaudy saloon. Before the saloon went bankrupt, it had boasted a
