Welcome to Paths Not Taken, the thirteenth Operation Quickline story. When a sting operation is set up on the resort owned by Lisa Wycherly’s father, she and Sid Hackbirn find themselves revisiting their high school jobs. And hoping their covers don’t get blown. You can read the first chapter here.
Monday morning arrived, and I was not interested in getting out of bed. Sid wanted to work the morning shift at the restaurant, so he was long up before I was. I still dragged myself up and out for a run, then showered and ate breakfast in the apartment.
It was a quiet morning. Mira seemed to have the housekeeping staff well in hand, but I figured I’d better do a few spot checks and while I was at it, search a few rooms.
I saw my first chance when Avery DiNovo drove off in his car, leaving his wife watching the kids at the playground.
I knocked on the door of Cabin Three. “Housekeeping.”
Dead silence. I used my passkey and entered the cabin. Mira’s crew had already been through, and it looked perfect from that perspective. Well, mostly perfect. I made a note on my clipboard, then got to work, searching drawers, under the beds and mattresses, in the closets and the kitchenette.
There were piles of papers on the little dining table next to the kitchenette, but they all seemed to be geological reports. I shot pictures of a few of them just in case.
Books littered one of the dressers, all of them very thick and various books on legal theory and cases. I couldn’t help thinking about how dry were the books I’d been reading the previous school year.
I did not find any floppy disks or anything computer-related at all, nor did I find any weapons or drugs. In fact, apart from their behavior, the DiNovo family seemed pretty clean.
I did a final check on my clipboard, then headed out.
I debated where to head next, but then saw Ms. Sanchez sitting by the playground, watching the children with obvious pleasure. I made like I was tidying the lounge chairs and worked my way around to her.
“How are you doing today, Ms. Sanchez?” I asked pleasantly.
“Enjoying a day off,” she said. She was wearing shorts and a short-sleeved button-front white blouse, and rolled her shoulders back, lifting her face to the sun. “I cannot tell you how restful this place is.”
I chuckled. “It hasn’t felt like it lately.”
“Yes. I heard about the problem Thursday night.” She shook her head. “I was working with my client, and they’d heard about it from the police. As I understand it, the gunman wasn’t even on your property.”
“That’s what the cops said.” I smiled nervously at her.
“That is the problem with the hospitality business. Guests don’t think.” She paused and smiled, slightly embarrassed. “I’m here as a consultant for a couple of the hotels across the state line. Mostly on building housekeeping teams.”
I couldn’t help a snort. “I could have used you here this past week.”
“You fixed it.” She chuckled. “It was kind of hard to miss the chatter, but then that’s my job.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s like all those idiots leaving last Friday and blaming the resort management because of something you could not have expected, let alone been responsible for. I didn’t leave because I knew you were handling it as well as anyone could and taking steps to keep everyone safe. But then, I work in this industry, so I hear and see things most people don’t.” She stretched again and smiled. “I promise you, even with personnel problems and kids screaming all over the place, it is so much nicer to stay here than some corporate property.”
“You seem to like kids. Do you have any?”
“Never got the chance.” She looked a little sad. “I married too soon, got dumped, then had to focus on feeding myself for so long, I never re-married. I am alone in life, but I have friends and that helps.”
“Where are you from?” I fidgeted with a lounge chair.
“From Cuba. I came when I was a child in 1960.” She frowned. “I was part of the Pedro Pan operation. Cuban parents sent their children to the States because they were afraid of what Castro would do to us.” She sighed. “The vast majority of us were reunited with our parents after a couple of years or so. I was one of the rare children who wasn’t. My father was already in jail for opposing Castro when I left. My mother apparently died of cancer that same year, or that was the letter I received from our neighbors in Havana. I was placed in a foster home and grew up in Denver.”
“That’s quite a story.”
She smiled. “I don’t tell it often. You have a family here whose parents immigrated around that time and your friends were born here. They know several Pedro Pans.”
“That’s interesting.” I smiled, but inside I was wondering why Lita hadn’t mentioned it. Then again, I hadn’t had a chance to talk to her since the week before.
I said goodbye to Ms. Sanchez, then made my way up to their room and found Lita inside. Pedro had the kids on a horse ride.
“I talked to Ms. Sanchez today,” I said.
“She tell you her story?” Lita looked a little guilty.
“Yes. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I haven’t seen you and…” Lita winced. “I wanted to verify it first. It checked out.”
“She seems clean otherwise.” I frowned and thought of something else. “You know, I may have a way of verifying where she’s working, too. Thanks.” I stopped. “And, Lita, thanks for being so nice to her.”
“It was a terrible time for us.” Lita blinked and frowned. “My dad still hates Castro.”
I hurried down to my parents’ house and Desmond. He said that he still had friends at the hotel where Ms. Sanchez was supposedly working and agreed to make a few phone calls.
“How’s Dusty doing?” I asked.
“Moping a lot.” Desmond shifted. “I think he’s going to try to bolt. I’m not sure if I should hold him.”
“That’s a good question. Let me talk to Sid, but if Dusty bolts before I do, page Nick and Frank and tail him, please.”
“Will do.”
I went back toward the restaurant. It was near the end of the lunch rush, and I was getting hungry as well. Sid, however, was not in the restaurant. Neither was Nick. I found them out back next to the dumpster bin.
“What’s going on?”
“I screwed up,” Nick yelped, obviously distraught.
“It wasn’t your fault, son.” Sid’s tone strongly hinted that he’d already told that Nick more than once. He hefted himself up and into the bin. “Good thing the trash guys came this morning. Here it is.”
Nick came over and took the trash bag. “I threw away somebody’s false teeth. They were wrapped in a paper napkin. I didn’t see them.”
“It happens,” Sid called from inside the bin.
“He was so mad.” Nick trembled as he opened the trash bag. “I hate this job!”
“I know, sweetie. Do you want me to help?”
“I know what to look for,” Sid said, climbing out of the bin, then dropping to the ground. “But why don’t you stick around?”
They found the partial denture wrapped in a paper napkin near the bottom of the bag. Sid sent Nick to the front desk to let the guest know.
As soon as the boy was gone, Sid took my arm and headed me toward the staff lodge.
“I found something,” he said quickly. “And I need to take a shower.”
“You definitely need that,” I said with a sniff.
Sid showed me what he’d found once we were in the apartment. It was a small, flat plastic case.
“A floppy disk,” I said.
Sid nodded. “I don’t know if it’s the right one, let alone how it got in that can. I found it in a bag of old wires.”
“You think Ty might have had it?”
“Possibly. The thing to do would be to find out if that’s the disk we’ve been looking for.”
“I’ll go talk to Hattie.” I took the disk. “Could Bracha have tossed it?”
“I’ll talk to her after I get changed. I’ve got to go back to the restaurant, anyway. It’s Janine’s day off and we don’t have a daytime assistant manager yet.”
“You know who also could have had it.” I pressed my lips together. “Donna. She was in that room and could have found it before she sounded the alarm on Lipplinger. Or maybe found it the day before and set the trap for him.”
Sid thought. “We know she’s got more on the ball than she appears.”
“I’ll ask her about it. She knows she’s not supposed to take things that guests leave, except obvious trash.”
I held my breath and gave him a quick kiss – he did not smell too good after being in the dumpster.
Hattie was in her room, fortunately, and all but pounced on the disk when I showed it to her.
“Where did you find it?” she asked.
“In the main trash bin,” I said, deciding not to tell her how. “We’re trying to find out how it got there. But if that’s not the right disk, it won’t make much difference.”
Hattie turned on her brother’s computer and we waited while it booted. A few minutes later, we had our answer.
“This is it,” Hattie said.
“Yeah.” I pointed at the screen. “There’s the correct spelling.”
Hattie sighed deeply in relief. “But how did it end up in a trash bin?”
“I don’t know yet.” I bit my lip. “It shouldn’t have, but let’s face it, Hattie. Not everyone knows what these things are. I’ve got some work to do. Um. Do you have a blank one I could borrow? Or one that doesn’t have anything significant on it? I may need to show it to some folks.”
Hattie nodded, gave me another of the plastic-covered disks. I also copied the plans onto a regular five and a quarter disk and left.
I found Donna finishing Cabin Eleven.
“No toys in the vacuum?” I said with a smile.
“Nope.” Donna grinned. “I think I’ve got that one. Finally.”
I pulled the smaller floppy from my shorts pocket. “Donna, would you have any idea where this came from?”
Donna’s brows creased. “What is it? Some sort of weird coaster?”
“Not quite.” I smiled. “One of the guests lost something like it and I’m trying to find out where the lost one might be.”
Donna shrugged. “I have no clue.”
Frankly, I thought the odds were relatively even on that point, but I let it go. I went to find Mira. She was finishing a spot check on Cabin One.
I looked around. “It’s looking really nice.”
Mira grinned. “Beatrice and Yesmenia.”
“Yesmenia? I thought she considered the second floor her personal domain.”
“I know.” Mira smirked. “But I convinced her that she might want to try something new. And Beatrice helped.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “Looks like you’ve got this down.” I shifted and pulled the disk out of my pocket. “Do you know where this came from?”
“I gave it to Ty,” Mira said.
“You what?” I blinked. “Where did you find it?”
“In three-oh-five. I did a deep clean right after the stiff happened. You saw me.”
“Yeah. But I didn’t see this.”
“It was behind the dresser. I think you’d left by then. Anyway, I had no idea what it was, so I took it to Ty, figuring he’d know. And the owner was dead, so…”
“I see.” I bit my lip. “Okay. Thanks.”
As I left the cabin, I looked back at Mira. I had to believe that if she was involved in the plans sale, it was only by accident. Admittedly, that wasn’t evidence. But it was enough to get me looking elsewhere first.
I did have to question Ty Larson. He had the most contact with Dusty. He had a boxy build with dark gray hair and more wrinkles than a cotton shirt that had spent all week in the dryer. I found him in the facilities shed instead of somewhere else on the resort.
“Hey, Lisa. Something plugged?” He knew that I tended to grab the plumbing equipment and take care of the plugged toilets myself.
“Not this time.” I pulled the plastic disk from my shorts. “Have you seen one of these recently?”
“That is the strangest coaster I have ever seen.” Ty shook his head. “Mira brought one by a couple, three weeks ago. I tossed it this morning. I’m trying to clean up around here.”
Which Ty did every so often. It rarely amounted to much, but he did try.
“It’s not a coaster.” I paused. “Did Dusty see it?”
Ty scratched his chin, which was covered with stubble, as usual. “Dusty? I don’t think so. I just dropped it on my desk. Found it under a bunch of papers I should probably throw out.”
I bit my tongue. Ty was, unfortunately, not very good at figuring out which papers were important and should be saved, and which he could toss. Which was why he seldom got any papers that should be saved.
The problem was, I couldn’t really see him under KGB control. Ty was utterly necessary to the resort in that he could fix anything much like Dusty could. But there wasn’t much beyond fixing things that seemed to interest him. It didn’t mean somebody hadn’t found his weak spot, but, again, I had to believe it made more sense to look elsewhere first.
I went to find Sid so that we could conference on what I’d found and anything he’d found. He was in the restaurant kitchen, but not in a good mood. I pulled him into the break room and shut the doors.
“Bracha recognized it as a floppy disk,” Sid said distractedly. “But she had no idea why it was significant.”
“Oh.” I sighed. “Okay. Do you want me to order dinner in from somewhere?”
“I don’t care,” Sid snarled. “I’ll be stuck here all night. I had to fire Lee.”
“Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes. He came in today, flying higher than the proverbial kite.” Sid paced the break room, utterly pissed. “We can’t have that.”
“No.” I started crying. “We’re going to be stuck here.”
“What?”
I glared at him. “We’ll be here for the rest of our natural lives. I’ll even bet Dale set Lee up so that he keeps getting stoned. Dale wants us here, dammit, and he always gets what he wants.”
“So what if we do?”
I all but screamed at him. “You’re having fun. I’m not! I hate working here. I hate the constant complaints about stuff we have no control over. I hate being on a walkie-talkie all day so that I can be reeled in on a moment’s notice to take care of some piddly problem. And I really hate that my father got pulled into stuff that he shouldn’t have, but it won’t make any difference because we’re stuck here.”
“I see.” Sid softened. “You’re feeling the stress, aren’t you?”
“And you’re not?”
He sighed. “Yeah, I am.” He chuckled. “But you and I have our usual avenue for relieving my stress.”
He meant messing around. We’d discovered that was his favorite way to release whatever stress he was feeling. It also worked for me most of the time.
“It’s not working for me right now,” I grumbled. I blinked back more tears. “The worst of it is, I do kind of want to be here. It was one of the things I’d planned on doing for a career when I was a kid. It’s not all awful.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “And with things being so messed up with my PhD program, maybe this is where God is sending me.”
“I don’t know about that.” Sid is an atheist. He pulled me into his arms. “I do know that I love you. I do know that things here in the restaurant are not that messed up. It’s just a matter of getting everybody trained. And I do know that whatever else is going on in terms of our side business, we will come out on top one way or another. We always have. It just won’t be as easy or as neat as we’d like.”
“It never is.” I sighed and leaned against him. “Maybe I am over-reacting.”
“We haven’t had a case yet where one or the other of us, or both, hasn’t had a solid melt-down. So, it’s your turn this time.” He lifted my chin, and I gazed into his gorgeous blue eyes. “It will be alright, my sweet, sweet Lisa. I believe that.”
I smiled in spite of myself. “Thanks. I almost believe it too right now.”
Oh, there was some very nice necking at that point, but, alas, it couldn’t continue to its natural conclusion. Sid did have to get back to the kitchen.
The next morning, I got up early and put on a nice skirt suit. I ate in the apartment kitchen. Sid was there to pour coffee and sit with me, then drive me to the airport.
It was time for the meeting with the department head at my school.
“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.
“No. They need you in the restaurant.”
“You’re more important.” He smiled softly and touched my cheek.
“Thanks, lover.” I blinked my eyes and took a deep breath. “I just want to get this over with. I’m so afraid they’re booting me.”
Sid pulled me up and held me. “And if that happens, then that may just be that sign from God you’re looking for.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. Sid may be an atheist, but he does know how I operate that way.
“Honey,” he said. “You don’t know that it’s about kicking you out. Weren’t you told that the department head was talking to all the candidates?”
“Yeah.”
“Hang onto that and we’ll work things out no matter what happens. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He said much the same thing as he put me on the plane to Los Angeles. I hung onto how much I loved him and how much he loved me. Once the plane landed, I rented a car because getting my own from the garage in the San Fernando Valley would take too long and headed up to the university where I was studying.
Dr. Chris Stevenson was a pleasant man in his mid-fifties, with a round figure and a gray beard. He didn’t keep me waiting, but brought me right into his office within seconds of me getting there.
“Alright.” He settled behind his perfectly neat desk and tapped a sheaf of papers on its bottom edge. “How’s your summer been?”
“Interesting. I’m helping my father out with his business.” I smiled nervously.
Stevenson looked at me and chuckled. “It’s not bad news.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. “Thanks.”
“The reason I’m talking to all of the PhD candidates is that we’ve had some personnel changes.” Stevenson cleared his throat. “We, eh, convinced Dr. Barber to retire, and Dr. Clemmins was so pissed off, he retired as well. He may have thought he would be the next to go.”
“Oh. Umm. I don’t know what to say.”
“Your complaint was the last straw for the Dean, and…” Stevenson cleared his throat again. “There may be other, um, complaints in process.”
I looked innocent, but had to figure that complaints meant ongoing investigations or lawsuits that Stevenson couldn’t talk about.
“It was about time.” Stevenson grinned. “Barber was resting on his laurels. Hadn’t produced any new scholarship in years. Clemmins’ student evaluations were getting worse and worse. We even got Miriam back with us.”
“That’s wonderful!” I smiled happily.
“However, I have to re-arrange the advisory committees, which is why I want to talk to everybody before I do.” He looked at me, then down at his notes. “Lisa, I have to tell you, we almost didn’t accept you.” He held up his hand. “I was the one who wanted you. The others were concerned about the gap between your master’s degree and now.”
“Well, it’s like I told you in the interview. I had to teach to earn enough money to get my doctorate. But then I got laid off and when I couldn’t get another job that year, I lost my confidence.”
“And I remember how hard it was to find work in eighty-one, eighty-two. But you got such stellar recommendations from your superiors and your teachers, and the way you went gangbusters during your undergrad and master’s, doubling up on credits, graduating early and getting your master’s in one year. Everybody thought you were going to be on the tenure track before you were twenty-five.” He looked at me. “What really happened?”
What had happened was the spy business, but I couldn’t tell him that.
I swallowed and looked away. “I did lose my confidence. After I couldn’t get a new job that year, I really wondered if I was cut out for academia. I was about to get evicted when I met my husband, and he offered me a job as his secretary. He even had me live-in. We weren’t sleeping together. He slept around a lot, and I didn’t sleep with anyone, period. We became friends, and I got to like the work, and then we fell in love.” I shrugged. “Things just happened. But two years ago, we’d gotten married, and I was having trouble getting used to the idea that I was a wife and mother. Sid was worried about me, and asked me one day what I’d liked so much about teaching. It was all about helping students.” I looked up at Stevenson. “Most people don’t realize it, but teaching someone to write clearly can change their life. It’s such an important skill, and I loved doing that. So, Sid talked me into going for my original dream.”
Stevenson pressed his lips together. “I can see where you might have gotten off-track. But I also know something that you didn’t at the time.” He looked a little guilty. “I happen to know Stacey Keating.”
“My mentor teacher.” I smiled. Stacey had also been the associate dean of the department at the community college where I’d worked. “She’s a terrific teacher.”
“She says you are, too.” Stevenson cleared his throat again. “But it wasn’t just that you had the least seniority at that college. There were two of you in that position. They kept Roy Church.”
“I didn’t know,” I said, my gut tightening. So, it hadn’t just been being new, and to lose out to that jerk? I couldn’t help feeling really angry, but tamped it down.
“Stacey is still pissed about that one. You were clearly the better teacher, and you had the most potential for finishing your doctorate. Roy’s still there, but he’s just skating along, hasn’t even finished the course work for his.” Stevenson took a deep breath. “I know you had a really tough first year here, although you did get your essay published. That was quite a coup.”
“And put me in Barber’s crosshairs.” I grumbled.
Stevenson looked at me again. “But you’re not that interested in Shakespeare.”
“I love Shakespeare!”
“Yes, but you love teaching more, and even just now, when you talked about it, it was in terms of teaching writing skills, not iambic pentameter.” Stevenson chuckled. “Your essay on keeping Shakespeare relevant was great, well-supported, with some excellent citations. But it was an opinion, not scholarship.” Stevenson smiled again. “I like your work, Lisa. I think you are an asset to this department. But I don’t think you have the right focus, and that’s where your problem is.” He again straightened his sheaf of papers that didn’t need straightening.
I thought about it. “Then what do I focus on?”
“That.” Stevenson cleared his throat. “How about English education? I’ve been talking about doing this for a while now, and I decided it’s time. I’d like you to be part of a new pilot program focusing on teaching writing skills, not just the skills, themselves, but how do we teach them better so that kids go out there ready to succeed? Your doctorate will still be an English degree, but in English education and you can keep Shakespeare as a minor, so your credits from last year will still count. I’ve talked with Carol Parsons, over in the Education department, and she likes the cross discipline approach.”
“Wow.”
“Don’t give me an answer now. I imagine you’ll want to talk it over with your husband. But you’ll also need to think about taking on a classroom assignment. In fact, I’m strongly encouraging you to.” He handed me a sheet of paper. “Here’s a list of openings. Tell the contacts that I sent you.”
I looked the list over and smiled. “My son goes to this one.”
“Your son?” Stevenson looked confused.
“He is only fifteen, and will be a sophomore in September at his high school. But he’s also a bridge student and takes classes at this community college you’ve got here.”
“Funny. You don’t look old enough to have a fifteen-year-old.”
I laughed a little. “Well, I am, but just barely. However, I adopted my husband’s son. He’s whip-smart and an absolute sweetheart. I’m so proud of him.”
“I can see that.” Stevenson did the throat clearing thing again. “You talk things over with your family then, and I hope to hear from you by the end of the week about how you want to proceed. I do have to get the graduate committees assigned.” He got up. “And if you have any questions, please call me.”
“I will. Thanks.” I got up and shook his hand.
The inside of my head whirled as I got the rental car returned and then to the right ticketing desk for the flight I wanted. There weren’t a lot of flights to South Lake Tahoe, but Lyle had given me a list the day before since I hadn’t known exactly what time I’d be heading back. I called the resort restaurant and left a message for Sid about what time I’d arrive, then hurried to catch my plane.
I was surprised to see Daddy at the gate when I got off the plane.
“Where’s Sid?” I asked.
“He asked me to come get you. He’s stuck at the restaurant.”
“Oh, no.”
Daddy shrugged and walked me out to his jeep.
“So, how did it go?” he asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“It was very interesting.” I looked at him and bit my lip. “Daddy, how badly do you want me to take over the resort for you?”
He laughed long and hard.
“I was serious!” I snapped.
“Lisle, baby, you weren’t ever going to do that.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t want me to.”
Daddy shook his head. “Of course. I’d love to hand my business over to my daughters. And maybe I’ll yet find a way to do that so that you two can have your own lives. But neither of you were ever going to join me in the business, and that’s fine.”
“I tried to,” I said, sulking. “I had this big idea that I was going to take over for you, so I tried to do everything on the resort.”
“You did.” Daddy chuckled. “You tried just about every job, and you hated every one of them. I’m glad you kept at the laundry and the store. And I really appreciated the way you stepped in on the housekeeping side that one summer. But it wasn’t your passion, and I didn’t think it should have been.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m in the hotel industry because my daddy was. When I was a boy about Nick’s age, I hated my daddy for saying that I was going to follow in his footsteps. Now, as it happened, I found out that I liked the business, and when it came time to get out of South Florida, that’s the business I bought. But I was never going to make my girls follow in my footsteps. And, thank God, you girls knew your own hearts and followed them.” He smiled at me, then turned his eyes back to the road. “Your mother and I raised you two to be independent and think for yourselves. We didn’t want you stuck like we were or like our parents were. So, don’t be afraid to follow your heart. You won’t disappoint me. In fact, I’m most proud of you when you do.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
Back at the resort, I found Sid in the restaurant kitchen, but could only reassure him that things had gone well with my meeting.
“That’s good to hear,” he said, giving me a quick kiss. “But we had two waiters call in sick tonight and we’ve got a full house. We’ll talk later.”
He went back to plating salads at the speed of light.
I hung around for a few, chatting with Kathy and Jesse in the dining room, only to see Sid come out of the kitchen and take an order at a table nearby. Oh, he was good as he smiled and chatted with the guests. He even flirted a little with the older woman, and she ate it up. I could well imagine he’d gotten terrific tips when he’d waited tables when he was younger.
Thank you for reading. For more information about the Operation Quickline series, click here.
Please check out the Fiction page for the latest on all my novels. Or look me up at your favorite independent bookstore. Mine is Vroman’s, in Pasadena, California.