Crunch Time

me very specifically not to phone him. And I’ll tell you something else. The very day after Ernest took the necklace? Humberto began a huge redecorating campaign. He stripped the rooms to the bones and started over. They’re almost done, too, which is amazing.”

“Who’s doing all the painting and whatnot?”

“The guards. They installed new appliances, new draperies, new lights, you name it. But they weren’t allowed in the bedroom when I was there. The furniture was replaced; there are new pillows, new fabrics on everything. And all the materials were brought in by the guards.”

“Why would he do all that?”

“I have no idea.”

“And you don’t have a clue what Ernest did with the necklace?”

“None.”

Another dead end. No necklace, no gold, no gems, and no key as to who had killed Ernest. Wait; keys. I asked, “Do you know if Humberto has access to the houses Donna Lamar rents out?”

Lolly rubbed her forehead. “You mean, Donna that rental agent who was at the party last night? All I know about her is that she has an office in the Captain’s Quarters.”

“I’m aware of that,” I said patiently. “But do you know if Humberto has access to her keys, or security codes, for her rentals?”

Lolly shook her head. “I only see Humberto when he wants to see me. But he owns the Captain’s Quarters, Goldy. And even though it’s not fully leased, Ernest said he followed Humberto very carefully and then broke into the building. He was sure the gold and gems weren’t anywhere in there.”

“But keys to the rentals that Donna handles?”

“If he told Donna he wanted some keys, he’d probably get them, especially if they were to empty rentals. Still, if Ernest was stuck to Humberto’s ass, don’t you think he would have seen Humberto going into one of the rentals, and found the gold and gems hidden there?”

“I don’t know.”

When Lolly saw my disappointed look, she said, “I’m sorry. But I can’t ask Humberto anything, or he’ll think I had something to do with the stolen necklace.”

I thought of Yolanda’s rental burning down right after Humberto had said he wanted her to spy on Ernest. I did not want to burden Lolly with any more, though. “Don’t apologize, Lolly. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, coming over here and talking to you about Ernest.” I hesitated before getting up to leave.

“What?” she said.

“Well,” I said hopefully, “my husband always asks if there’s anything out of place. Anything at all, he always says. Anything besides the redecorating that’s aroused your curiosity?”

She wrinkled her forehead. “Humberto is getting a delivery later this week. Friday, he told me. But he wouldn’t say what, only that it needs to be ‘installed’—his word—and I can’t come over that day.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, he keeps a pretty tight hold on his wallet.”

“I thought you said he’d been generous to you and your parents.”

“I don’t mean it metaphorically, Goldy. I mean when he’s dressed, he keeps a really tight hold on his actual wallet. He’s always checking to make sure he has it. One time when he was asleep, I went through it. All I found for my trouble was a couple hundred bucks plus three or four receipts. BFD.”

“Three or four receipts for what?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t look at them that closely.”

I had no idea what these might be, but even the slenderest of clues could offer something. “Does Humberto have a photocopier?” When she nodded, I said, “Could you copy the receipts for me? Don’t steal them. I’m coming to Humberto’s tonight, for dinner.”

“I know.”

“Will you be there?”

When she nodded again, I said, “Got any of that temazepam left?”

“I have one left. Oh, Christ, Goldy, don’t tell me you want me to drug somebody.”

“Are you and Humberto getting together this afternoon?”

She let her head drop back. “Yes. He says if we make love first, he has a better siesta. And before you ask, yes, we usually have a drink first.”

“So, you open up the pill and sprinkle a little bit in each of your drinks. Okay? Then you pretend to drink some of yours while he drinks his. When he’s asleep, you get the stuff out of his wallet, copy it, fold it up, and save it for me, just until tonight. Then you have a tiny bit of your drink and lie down next to Humberto, until you fall asleep —”

“Know what?” Lolly interrupted me. “I already saw Romeo and Juliet. As I recall? That dual-poisoning thing didn’t turn out so well.”

“This will have a happy ending,” I insisted. “He’ll wake up, and then he’ll wake you up, and even if he gets suspicious and sends the drinks off to be analyzed, you’re in the clear. Listen,” I said earnestly, “I need to see what Humberto’s keeping in his wallet, Lolly. Maybe it’ll lead somewhere.”

She sighed. “Please don’t tell Tom about my part in all this, okay?”

“I’m not even going to tell Tom what I’m doing. Hide the photocopy well, and don’t swallow much of that drink.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She led me to the door. “Don’t worry, I’m in the fix I’m in because of booze. I’ve learned my lesson.”

In the van, I checked my watch. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, but my stomach was rumbling. The Aspen Meadow Pastry Shop had survived the downturn, and I thought a buttermilk doughnut and a cup of brewed coffee would do the trick.

I still hadn’t heard back from Hermie Mikulski. Then again, I hadn’t been expecting her to be checking her voice mail. On the way to my doughnut, I decided to leave her another urgent message.

“Hermie Mikulski,” she answered briskly. Her gravelly, serious voice startled me.

“This is Goldy Schulz.” I coughed to hide my surprise. “Sorry.” I maneuvered the van into a spot on Main Street not walled off with plowed snow. “My husband, the sheriff’s department, e-everyone,” I stammered, “we’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been very busy, what with trying to keep this town safe for animals. Plus, my son’s nose is very bruised and swollen. He can only have soup, and I have to make it for him.”

“So, you’re at your house? May I bring some homemade soup over to you and Brad?” I remembered the mushroom soup that I was planning on taking to the Bertrams’ house. I could go home and make a double batch—

“No, thank you.” Her voice scraped my ears, and I cringed. “I am perfectly capable of making soup.”

“I understand.” I tried to make my voice soothing, when in truth I was desperate to ask, Where the hell have you been? “Actually, Hermie, I’m calling because you said you were a client of Ernest McLeod’s, and he was my friend—”

“Huh,” she interrupted. “I left a message at the sheriff’s department, saying Ernest McLeod was killed because he was in the process of helping me close down a puppy mill, which I am absolutely positive is hidden somewhere on the grounds of a legitimate breeding operation.”

“When did you call the sheriff’s department?”

She paused. “I reached your husband’s voice mail this morning.”

“Did you tell him where this mill was?”

“If I had known where the puppy mill was at that point, I would have told him. How stupid do you think I am?”

At that point? What did she mean? Not wanting to scare her into hanging up on me, I said, “Actually, I think you’re very smart, Hermie. That’s why I called you. You’ve been staying away from home—”

“I had been getting threatening phone calls,” she said. “You know, ‘Mind your own business, you eight-