Crunch Time

object. “I was thinking about Ernest’s appointment being changed, and Dr. Parker saying he couldn’t remember the name of the secretarial service he hired. Well, there’s only one secretarial service in town, and it’s run by a woman I know from Saint Luke’s, or at least from when she used to come to the food pantry. Her name is Charlene Newgate. I’ve already sent her an e-mail, and we’re going to see each other at the physicals today. Her grandson is a student at CBHS. He must be new because I haven’t seen him at any school functions—”

“Miss G., what are you saying to me? You want to know if she worked for Dr. Parker? You want to question this woman about Ernest’s appointment? And wait, you want to wear a wire, too?”

I sipped the coffee and tried to think. “No, I just want to know if it’s okay with you. That I talk to her, I mean.”

Tom shook his head and sighed. “Be very careful. And be nice—”

“I’m always nice.”

Tom chuckled. “Right. If she worked for Parker, we’re going to figure that out anyway. But don’t press her, got it? I want to hear what she has to say, and in particular, how she acts with you.”

Boyd knocked softly on our door. When Tom answered, Boyd said he needed to get into the garage to get the toolbox. Tom gave him the code, said he’d be right there, and came over to give me a kiss.

“See you, Miss G.”

“Thanks, Tom. You know I’m only trying to help Yolanda.” I sipped the coffee again. In a moment, banging began to echo up the stairs. “And one more thing—”

Tom slumped. “Only one more?”

“Is there a laptop up here? I don’t want to use your computer in the basement, and I don’t want to use the one in the kitchen. I want to use one up here.”

He quirked an eyebrow at me. “There’s that new desktop in Arch’s room.” When I didn’t mention why I needed it, Tom said, “Oh, man, Miss G., don’t I know you.” It was not a question. “You want to start a file, make a list of what’s happened, that kind of thing, right?” I pressed my lips together and looked out the window. Tom went on. “And you want to be up here to do it, not in the kitchen, because despite what you say about loving good old honest Yolanda, you want to keep what you’re putting down to yourself.”

I shot him a glance. “Yeah, okay, I’m just being, well, circumspect. Do you know how to password-protect a file? I don’t want to mess up Arch’s stuff.”

“Wouldn’t he just love you for that. Come on, I’ll show you.”

While Tom booted Arch’s Mac, I looked around my son’s room. His memorabilia crowded the shelves above his desk. There were pictures of Arch with Julian on a fishing trip, Arch smiling broadly with the Christian Brothers fencing team, another of him brandishing his new epee. Another photo showed him in front of a cake on his sixteenth birthday, flanked by his best friend, Todd Druckman, and his newfound half brother, Gus Vikarios. We called the trio the Three Musketeers. Most amazingly, to me, anyway, were the fencing trophies between the photos. DENVER AREA FENCING CHAMPIONSHIP, THIRD PLACE. BOULDER FENCERS, THREE-TIME KING OF THE HILL. WESTERN REGIONAL RUNNER-UP, UNDER-EIGHTEEN EPEE TOURNAMENT.

This was, all of it, a sea change from Arch’s life up to a few years ago. In elementary and middle school, he’d been steeped in misery—not unlike little Otto Newgate, who had taken his grandmother’s last name. Otto was even younger and smaller than Arch. For his part, Arch had been unathletic, bullied constantly, addicted to role-playing games, and torn apart by my divorce from the Jerk. But in a gradual change, he’d turned away from Dungeons and Dragons, secretiveness, and despair, and made friends besides Todd. At CBHS, he’d ventured into fencing. He’d focused and concentrated at school and, best of all, started to gain confidence, even joy. And then my heart twisted in my chest, because I realized at what point this change had begun to occur: It was when the man in front of me, now busily tapping on Arch’s keyboard, had come into our lives, and stayed.

“Thank you, Tom,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just a file. Here you go, Miss G.” He stood and held out the desk chair for me. “Your password is Havana. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see if any of Ferdinanda’s breakfast dish is ready. Don’t be long, ’cause Boyd and I do have to do some work today, as in down at the sheriff’s department.”

“Wait. I have a quick question regarding Yolanda’s problem with Kris. If he was threatening her, and she could document it, couldn’t he be charged with menacing?”

Tom nodded. “She made a report, remember? But in order to sustain a charge of menacing, Miss G., we need documentation and evidence. Same with harassment. We have to have something to go on, and she didn’t even make a sheriff’s department report when he hit her with the broom.”

“And the investigation at Ernest’s house? When will you know about accelerant, what’s been destroyed, canvass of the neighborhood, ballistics on the gun that shot him, that kind of thing?”

“Today or tomorrow.”

“And you’ll tell me?”

Tom crossed his arms and smiled. “If you can keep it to yourself.”

“Thanks. I’ll be down in a few.”

Once Tom had quietly closed the door, I stared at the screen.

1. Ferdinanda: Mid-June, victim of hit-and-run. Was she a target? If so, why? What was she doing in Denver that she won’t divulge? Or is she just naturally difficult? Hates Kris. Loved Ernest. Ask her about Humberto.

2. Yolanda: Beginning of July, moves in with Kris. Mid-August: VD diagnosis. He hits her with broom; she moves out. While in rental, strange things happen; she thinks Kris is stalking her but has no proof. Twice, she and Ferdinanda see shadowy form at window; makes police report. Lost job at end of August, won’t give specifics about why Humberto gave her 17K in cash, found at Ernest’s house. (Did the cash burn up? Find out.) Won’t talk about Humberto; acts evasive. August 26: Rental mysteriously burns down. Unifrutco oil can nearby. Next day, she moves in with Ernest McLeod. She claims she is afraid of some of his clients: Hermie who’s missing fingers but loves puppies; some divorce clients; Juarez, who’s missing gold and gems. Ernest decides to leave her the house. Why? After Ernest is shot, his house is burned by arsonist. Why?

3. Humberto Captain: Being investigated by Ernest for theft of gold and gems from family of Norm Juarez. According to Tom, HC is slimy and uncooperative. Can a little export-import store provide him with the extravagant lifestyle he is rumored to have?

4. Kris Nielsen: Wealthy. Tells everyone he started a company and selling it made him rich. But he drunkenly confessed to Penny Woolworth, the cleaning lady, that he had inherited wealth. Penny tried to find out more about running a business, but Kris clammed up. Tom is trying to find out name of company Kris sold. Worse than all this: Yolanda says he is obsessed with her. He was unfaithful to her, gave her VD, hit her. Is he involved in the murder of Ernest? In the fire at Ernest’s house? If so, how? And why?

5. Brie Quarles: Being investigated by Ernest. Why? Is she the one with the messy divorce?

6. Hermie: Trying to close puppy mill. Are the beagle puppies from that mill? Is this why Ernest was killed, because he had discovered it?

7. Ernest McLeod: Investigating Humberto. Surveilling someone with messy divorce. Following Brie Quarles. Investigating puppy mill for Hermie. Why was Ernest growing marijuana in his greenhouse? Why did Ernest change his will? Why was Ernest killed?

I stared at that last question and thought if I could figure that out, I’d know who had shot Ernest while he was walking to his non–dentist appointment. I glanced around Arch’s desk, as if looking for clues there. All I saw was the bright orange flyer he’d designed for the athletes’ lunch today: Yes, There Is Free Lunch! (But You Have to Have a Physical First). And then there was a cartoon of a doctor listening to the chest of an athlete, who in turn looked longingly at a steaming plate of food that was just out of reach. Oh, Arch, I thought as I picked up the flyer and stuffed it into my pocket. You must have gotten your sense of humor from Tom. I saved and closed the computer file, then raced downstairs for breakfast.

Yolanda looked as if her night’s sleep had not rested her at all. But she didn’t complain; she merely hugged me when I came into the kitchen. Ferdinanda rolled around the kitchen with purpose, giving Yolanda staccato orders for setting the table and making coffee. I wished she would not ride Yolanda so hard, but that issue was not,