Welcome to book fourteen in the Operation Quickline series. When old evidence is uncovered in the long-unsolved murder of Sid’s mother, he and Lisa end up mired in one of the messiest cases of their careers. You can read the first chapter here, or check out the other chapters here.
The next day, after Sid, Nick, and I got home from mass, Sy called. I picked it up in the breakfast room.
“Stella wants a day to herself,” Sy told me. “And I am happy to accommodate her.”
“Do you want to come here for the afternoon?” I asked.
“Yes, thank you. I think that would be a most excellent idea.”
I debated asking him what he meant, but decided that he’d tell us when he got to the house. When he did, Sid and I got him settled in the library. Nick and Josh had taken the bus to the beach to go skateboarding. I got out my knitting as Sid went off to get the coffee he’d brewed for me and Sy, Bowser puppy following him. Motley sauntered into the room and flopped down next to me. Fritz, a gray tabby, decided to nap on the back of the wingback chair where Sy had settled. Blueberry, a gray, fluffy cat, had sacked out on the walnut baby grand piano’s bench.
“Damn it, Bowser!” Sid hollered from the hallway.
“Bowser?” Sy asked.
“The puppy Stella talked us into taking last summer,” I said, adjusting a stitch marker. “He keeps getting under Sid’s feet.”
“Further confirmation that a cat is the most preferable of all animal companions.” Sy chuckled as he brushed Fritz’s tail from his face.
Bowser trotted into the room. He’s a good-sized dog in spite of his short stature – about fifty pounds, with a rough coat, dark on his back and tan underneath, and the head, ears, and stubby legs of a basset hound.
Sid had the coffee mugs on a tray. He served Sy his, then set mine next to me on the lamp table between the two wingback chairs.
“Ahhh,” Sy said after a sip from his mug. “Nectar of the gods.”
Sid settled onto the piano bench, gently edging Blueberry over. Long John wandered in and made a beeline for Sid’s lap.
“It truly is,” Sy continued in his usual ponderous fashion. “There are few things more elegant and gracious than a well-made cup of coffee, and few things more rare. Sid, you are a master.”
“Thanks, Sy.” Sid shifted. “How is Stella doing?”
Sy shook his head. “Sid, my boy, you know perhaps better than any of us just how firmly and deeply Stella holds her convictions. Yesterday was quite the rude awakening, but one she needed. She is dealing with it about as well as one might expect. Nonetheless, it is not easy for her, any more than it was, and is, for you.”
Sid frowned. “I can imagine, but…”
“I cannot entirely endorse the way Stella kept her past from you.” Sy shifted and took another sip of coffee. “At the same time, I do understand it. I had thought that my family was quite the collection of miserable wretches, and they were. However, the horror of Stella’s family eclipsed mine several times over.”
“Your family?” I asked.
“I am the youngest of three sons. Coddled from infancy and indulged. It is only now, from the vantage point of old age, that I begin to see and understand my brothers’ resentment. They are, alas, gone. As are their wives. I have three nieces and two nephews, but we are not close, largely thanks to my brothers’ fears that I would somehow corrupt them.” Sy waved his hand. “But as I just now said, what Stella and her sister endured was far, far worse than what I had known.”
“Did you know Sheila?” Sid asked.
“Oh, yes.” Sy shifted. “I had returned from my studies abroad shortly before you were born, Sid. Stella did not want me to live with her because she was teaching in the public school system, and in those days, she could have gotten fired for living in sin.”
“But she gave up that job,” I said.
“Yes. However, after it was clear that Sheila was going to remain in residence, I decided that I did not wish to move in with them.” Sy winced. “Sheila was extremely manipulative, and for all she could be very, very charming, she was not a pleasant person. And to be honest, I did not fancy living with a small infant.”
“I can hardly blame you for that.” Sid shrugged.
“Still.” Sy shifted in the chair and again brushed Fritz’s tail from his face. “I must point out that Stella and I had planned on procreating at one point. Which made your presence, Sid, only a minor deterrent. Sheila was the primary one.”
“Stella told me about trying to get pregnant,” I said. “She was pretty upset that she couldn’t.”
“She was devastated.” Sy gazed at his mug. “Then Sheila arrived, looking for an abortion. I was quite happy to provide for it. I knew a good doctor, too. But Stella wanted you, Sid. She wanted you desperately. So in deference to Stella’s desire, I kept my silence. I will confess to no little surprise that Stella had convinced Sheila to support the three of you. But as time went on, I began to see that it was one odd little mess. I think the term today is dysfunctional. Sheila seemed to hate her sister. She bitterly resented Stella’s hold on her, and yet, could not leave her, either.”
“Or was it her son?” I asked, then flipped my knitting over to start a new row.
“I highly doubt that.” Sy chuckled ruefully. “Stella was completely accurate in her assessment of Sheila’s care for you, Sid. You would cry, at two months old, even, and Sheila would become quite enraged, and I saw her slap you more than once. And yet…” Sy winced. “She could also be quite tender with you, especially as you got older. She’d play with you. Admittedly, not often, but she would. And she even volunteered to watch you during the days so that Stella could go back to teaching. Which, quite fortunately, as it turned out, Stella had that fall that Sheila was murdered.” Sy squeezed his eyes closed. “I was convinced that Sheila was getting ready to abandon the two of you.”
“I wonder why she didn’t sooner, if she hated being around me and Stella so much,” Sid said.
“She didn’t want to be alone,” I said.
“I do believe you’re right, Lisa,” Sy said. He again brushed the cat’s tail from his face as he gazed unseeing across the room. “There was one fight in particular. You had to have been around nine months old, Sid. Stella and I had gone to lunch together. Sheila had agreed to watch you. However, when we came back, you had been left alone in your playpen. Two hours later, Sheila returned. Stella was furious and threatened to kick Sheila out. Sheila begged her not to, promising that she would do better, that she would not leave the baby alone.” Sy shrugged. “She did again, but not for many months later. You would have thought Sheila had the upper hand, in that Stella was dependent on her for support. Remember, women with infants at home were expected to stay there, not support themselves.”
Sid frowned. “Sy, you said just a minute ago that you thought Sheila was getting ready to abandon us. What made you think that? Did you know about Congressman Van Blinn?”
“I did not. But Sheila was growing more confident and cockier around Stella. More likely to directly cross her. And she’d drop hints that she’d found someone who could take care of her better than Stella could. We had no idea that she was considering taking you with her.”
Sid’s eyebrow lifted. “Do you think Van Blinn could have killed her?”
“I have no idea what to think about that.” Sy heaved a deep sigh. “If life with Sheila around had been fraught with annoyances and angst, it was nothing compared to those weeks after she was killed. Stella completely shut down. Utterly numb, and yet, I could tell that she was grieving. But the worst of it was your reaction, Sid. You kept crying for She-She. That’s what you called Sheila. She-She. ‘Want She-She, want She-She.’ It was utterly heart-rending. Stella took it to mean that you knew your true mother was dead and that she was only an inadequate substitute.”
“Oh, poor Stella,” I gasped.
“Obviously, Sid, you were simply upset by Stella’s grieving and that someone you knew was gone.” Sy shook his head. “I could not convince Stella of that, however. And yet, after Sheila’s death, Stella hung onto you even more tightly. She was terrified that someone would declare her an unfit mother, never mind that she had little choice but to work to support the two of you. Her fears were not eased until the two of you moved to San Francisco a little over a year later.”
“Hm.” Sid sipped from his mug. “That puts an interesting perspective on things.”
“As I hoped it would,” said Sy.
Sy stayed for dinner that night, then left after Stella called to thank Sid for providing someplace for Sy to go.
“She thinks that Sundays are going to be the toughest to get used to when it comes to having Sy around full-time,” Sid told me as we slid into bed that night. “She really likes having some time to herself once a week.”
“I can understand that,” I said.
“She’s gotten used to having him around during the summers, but now she’s got to get used to having him around during the year, too.” He snuggled up to me.
“How are you feeling?”
His eyes glittered. “Horny.”
“Besides that,” I laughed.
Horny is pretty much a chronic state with him. Not that I’m complaining. [You never have. – SEH]
He nuzzled my ear. “Okay, I guess. Sy’s perspective is really interesting, and that he witnessed a lot of it adds credence to what Stella has told us. On the other hand, it doesn’t shed much light on who killed Sheila, or on our official mission, which is keeping an eye on Van Blinn.”
“You’re right. And there isn’t much we can do about any of it, either.” I touched his cheek. “I’m just a little worried about you being messed up by it.”
“And I’m glad you are.” He gently held my fingers and kissed them. “But we’ll get through. We’re good that way.”
The next morning, I took Nick and Josh to school, then made a pickup. As in met another courier to get something that would either be passed on to someone else, or in this case, was meant for us. Sid was waiting for me when I got back to the house.
“Well?” he asked.
“Looks like a list of the guys that Van Blinn has been looking at,” I said, handing him the envelope. “According to Steve and Ray, Van Blinn’s looking at these folks because they donated to his campaign last fall, and they don’t live in his district or share the same party affiliation.”
Sid looked disgusted. “So why would they be trying to get Van Blinn elected unless they want something from him?”
“Exactly. Most of the guys are in New York. We’ve got two here in Southern California, but that’s it.”
“Who?”
“Mason Brightman and Earl Manotti. Both are CEOs at different S&Ls.”
“Manotti…” Sid’s brow creased. “Isn’t he that guy with the most trusted banker in L.A. commercial?”
“Oh, him.” I scrunched up my face. “I hate that commercial.”
“I can’t stand him, either.” Sid made a face. “He lies like a bleeping rug.”
Um. He didn’t say bleeping.
“Anyway,” Sid continued, pulling his pocket watch from his khaki dress slacks. “I’ve set up a meeting over at Frank and Esther’s in about… forty minutes.”
His eyes looked over the jeans and sweater that I was wearing, and he sighed. He was wearing a dark sports coat over a lavender Oxford shirt with a tie – Sid’s idea of casual.
“That gives me…” I frowned, ignoring him otherwise. “Shavings. Not nearly enough time. Never mind. We’ve got to get this taken care of.”
I could see Sid biting his tongue. He preferred business wear during work hours. I wanted to be a college professor so that I could wear jeans to work. Okay. There were other, better reasons behind being a college professor.
Part of the issue with my clothes is that I started out as Sid’s employee. That made it a lot easier for him to require business wear on weekdays, which wasn’t a bad idea. Working at home makes it a lot easier to slack off, and dressing more formally works against that. After we’d become partners in both the writing and side businesses, it was a lot harder for him to carp when I did not feel the same need to Dress for Success. Worse yet, my work ethic was pretty solid no matter what I happened to be wearing, which gave him even less room to complain.
Frank and Esther were waiting for us when we got to their place. Kathy and Jesse arrived within minutes. They settled Keshon into a playpen they’d brought, which did not go over well with Keshon. He immediately began fussing until Sid picked him up and started rocking the eighteen-month-old.
“He doesn’t like being on the floor anymore,” Kathy said. She’s tall, slender, with dark brown skin, and was wearing her hair in tiny braids. “He wants to be up where he can see everything.”
“Have we got anything?” I asked.
“It sure would help to know what we’re looking for,” Esther grumbled.
“Trust us, you don’t want to know,” I said.
Esther shot me a quick glare. “The car hasn’t gone anywhere, except yesterday.”
Sid looked at Jesse and Frank, who shrugged.
“He only went to church,” Frank said. “That big one out in Anaheim Hills. He didn’t stay very long, either.”
“What about Saturday?” Sid asked around Keshon’s hand.
“Well, the car we have the tracker on didn’t go anywhere,” Esther said.
I looked at Sid. “I wonder if we should put a tracker on the three other cars there.”
“I don’t think he’s going anywhere,” said Jesse. “He’s been making a lot of phone calls, which means he hasn’t had time to go anywhere. And the times we can confirm that he’s not making phone calls, the car has been gone. Usually to that country club up the highway.”
“Who’s he calling?” Sid asked.
“Mostly his offices in New York and D.C. But he’s also been trying to reach an Earl Manotti, who is not returning his calls. The target also called Mason Brightman, and that was very interesting.” Jesse shifted. He held up a cassette tape. “Here, let me play that one for you.”
We heard the phone ringing from the player next to the monitor, then a secretary announced that he’d reached Mason Brightman’s office. Van Blinn introduced himself and asked to speak to Mr. Brightman. The secretary put him through.
The other phone picked up. “Jimmy! Is that you?”
“Yes, Mason. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“It has. It has. I see you’ve come up in the world.”
“And you have, too. How many branches does your savings and loan have?”
“Only five.” Brightman laughed. “But we’re working on expanding. So why are you calling?”
“Eh. Two reasons, actually. Do you remember Sheila from Jane Smith’s house?”
Sid and I looked at each other.
“Sheila… Oh, yeah. She was that pretty little Southern kid. A real charmer and a damn good roll in the hay. Wait. She got killed, didn’t she?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t me.” Brightman laughed. “But seriously. They ever catch the jerk that did it?”
“No, they haven’t. Some new information has come to light, though. Jane’s ledger was found.”
“Oh. That could be sticky.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much. The clients’ names are all in some odd code. Even I can’t decipher it.”
Brightman laughed. “I didn’t say I was worried. That was – what? Almost forty years ago.”
“Something like that. That doesn’t mean Sheila’s family has forgotten her.”
“She had a family?”
“Yes. They’ve been located, too. In fact, that’s why I’m here in Southern California.”
Sid started to curse, then glanced at Keshon and bit back the stream. The others looked at Sid and me, obviously wondering what was going on.
“I’m hoping to work with them to find out what happened to Sheila,” Van Blinn continued on the tape.
“That idiot!” Sid snarled.
“Sure,” Brightman said. “But there isn’t much I can do. I barely remember her, let alone what happened to her.”
“Well, maybe you’ll think of something. Maybe something one of the other boys said.” Van Blinn let out a soft cough. “Oh, and the second reason I wanted to talk to you. I saw your donation to my campaign last fall. It was very generous.”
“That’s just the kind of guy I am.”
“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to get the impression that your gift will have any effect on how I choose to vote on various issues related to, say, the banking industry.”
“You were always a stick in the mud, Jimmy.”
“True. But I sleep better at night when I am.”
Van Blinn proceeded to tell Brightman where he was staying and gave him the phone number while Sid and I groaned. Keshon fussed a little, and Kathy took him. I could hear Sid cursing Van Blinn out under his breath.
“He’s out here investigating a murder?” Esther asked.
“And not just any murder,” Frank said, watching both Sid and me.
Jesse chuckled as he began to catch on.
“Wait a minute,” said Kathy. “Sid, didn’t you tell us at some point that the reason Stella raised you was that your mother had been murdered, and that she’d been a call girl?”
“I must have.” Sid shrugged. “And, yes, Sheila was my mother. That’s why we’re stuck with this stupid case. Because I have a visible reason to be talking to Van Blinn.”
“Okay,” said Jesse. “Is the case about the bribery attempt or the murder?”
“The bribery attempt,” Sid grumbled, and began pacing. “But, yeah, I’m also interested in the murder. Mostly because Stella’s hot on the trail. And damn it, she got shot at on Saturday.”
“Oh, no!” Kathy gasped.
“We’re all fine.” Sid looked at Jesse. “You recorded this, when? Friday?”
“Yeah. Eleven-fourteen a.m.”
Sid’s curse was a hair louder.
“Well, this won’t make you feel any better,” Kathy said, handing Keshon to Jesse. She pulled some papers from her bag. “I got the campaign finance reports last week. The good news is that they are clear. I was also able to look at the campaign accounts, and they squeak, they’re so clean. I haven’t been able to get into Van Blinn’s personal money, but something about that call makes me think he’s behaving himself.”
Esther grinned. “I could try to get into his bank’s system. Shouldn’t be that hard.”
Kathy winced a little. Esther wasn’t always as concerned as perhaps she should have been about how legal her methods were.
“I am so close to wrapping this one up,” Sid said with a sigh. “But if I do, you know that’s when Van Blinn is going to do something stupid.”
Of course, at that moment, Esther spotted the car moving. I offered to take a turn doing visual surveillance on Van Blinn, then hurried home to get my blond wig and my ID for my alter ego, Linda Devereaux.
Thanks to Esther’s monitoring system, which had something to do with triangulating satellites, I was able to catch up to Van Blinn at a small diner. He sat in a booth near the back, with a plate glass window behind him, writing away in a black notebook. A plate of pie sat in front of him, and next to a cup of coffee. The counter wound around the dining area, and there was a seat near his table where I could keep an eye on him.
Once I settled in, I heard him chatting pleasantly with the waitress, thanking her for her attention, and no, he didn’t need anything else. The waitress slid behind me to her side of the counter and got out her ticket book. I ordered a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich and a cola, figuring I could take that with me if Van Blinn left. It didn’t sound like he was going anywhere any too soon, but as soon as you make that kind of assumption, you know what happens.
I was a little bummed that I couldn’t get any of my reading done. It would have been just too engrossing, no matter how boring I sometimes found it. So I made notes on what I wanted to cover in the two classes I’d be teaching the next day, then added notes on some things I wanted to look up for Shakespeare’s problem plays.
The man who entered the diner next startled me. He was on the small side of average height, slender, with dark hair. He looked very familiar, although I simply could not place him. His eyes swept the diner with the “oh, so casual air that was anything but” of a professional operative. I smiled at him as he looked at me. He smiled politely, but without recognition, then promptly dismissed me when he saw Van Blinn.
Van Blinn saw the newcomer as he approached the table and smiled.
“Noah! What are you doing here?”
Noah slid into the booth as Van Blinn waved the waitress over.
“I called the house where you’re staying.” Noah’s eyes swept the diner again and again, dismissed me. “They said you liked coming here for lunch.”
The name tugged at my memory, but I still couldn’t place it. The waitress placed my sandwich in front of me, then went to the table.
“Please put Mr. Taplin’s order on my check,” Van Blinn told the waitress.
The penny dropped. Taplin was regular CIA. I’d run into him on another undercover case around two years before. He’d been rather obnoxious, but then that’s how people from the Company tend to be. The Company is what we call the CIA when we’re not using ruder terms. I wondered how he knew Van Blinn.
“So what brings you to Southern California?” Van Blinn asked after Taplin had declined to order anything.
“Checking things out.” Taplin’s voice almost lowered. “They’re looking at you.”
“That’s no surprise.” Van Blinn closed his notebook. “Things are going exactly the way I said they would when they passed that bill. Nobody likes hearing I told you so, even if I’m not saying it.”
Taplin snorted. “Well, since we’re both in town, I came to warn you. Maybe see if I can spot who’s doing the surveillance.”
I kept my face straight and eyes riveted on my notes. Taplin paid no attention to me. Admittedly, I didn’t look like I had when I’d met him. But he should have at least caught the same thing I had when he came in.
“I’m not worried,” Van Blinn said. “In fact, one of the reasons I’m here is to make it very clear to certain parties that I have not been bought.”
“Which is why they’re looking at you.”
Van Blinn shrugged. “Then they’ll have to keep looking.”
Taplin snorted again, then got up, his eyes yet again sweeping the diner, and yet again missing me. He strode from the place. I ordered a piece of apple pie. Van Blinn finally ate his, then left. It was good pie. I finished mine, then called Esther to get Van Blinn’s location – he was headed back to Wanzyck’s place. I followed him as far as the outside of the complex. I pulled around to the part of the street overlooking the back of the house, and stopped my truck just long enough to look through my binoculars at the sliding glass door to Van Blinn’s room. Van Blinn went in, settled in front of the television, and picked up the phone.
I took off, keeping an eye out for Taplin or anyone else.
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.