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.
If I wasn’t exactly paying attention when Sid took a call the next morning, it was because I was hip deep in grading Basic Comp papers. It had been a frantic morning, with Sid trying to show Nick how to shave. They both gave up before too much blood was shed. Sid wrote a note for Nick, explaining that shaving around Nick’s cleft chin was not something that could be learned while rushing to get ready for school.
I was thrilled to be focusing on something besides family angst when the call came through. Sid picked up the handset, so I only heard his side of the conversation, which was the usual greeting, then lots of hmms and hahs. He also typed several names and phone numbers into a file on his computer, which is why I didn’t pay any attention initially.
“Well, thanks, Jay,” Sid said, and I looked up. “If you can give me whatever information you get on the contacts on your end of the country, I’d appreciate that… I’d be happy to work with you on the story. I, uh, would just rather keep my personal connection out of it… There’s that, but it’s, uh, Stella. As you can imagine, she’s not dealing too well with this. I think she could use some privacy, if you know what I mean…” Sid laughed. “Okay. Well, thanks again. I’ll keep you up to date with what I find out.”
He hung up and looked at me.
“What’s that about?” I asked.
He made a face. “Jay Fedders. That research he’s been doing on the women listed in the ledger. He told us about it at lunch that first day. Remember?”
I thought for a moment. “Not really.”
“Well, he got it organized today and suggested that the two of us work together on a story about the case. There are eight women in the ledger, right?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Sid rolled his eyes and smiled at me. “Well, three of the former hookers now live out here in Southern California. Four are on the East Coast. And the last passed away about four or five years ago. Anyway, Jay said that he’d talk to the ladies on his side of the country. But he asked me to talk to the three that are here, plus Jane Smith’s daughter.”
“Smith. That was the madam, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah.” Sid nodded. “And that was her real name, too, apparently. That’s one of the twists in the case. Within a week or two after the murder, Smith sold the house and moved to Los Angeles, supposedly because her daughter had a deal with one of the movie studios. Or maybe she got the deal after they got here. Jay isn’t sure which. But the daughter did get one and made quite a career. Her name is Hannah Davis.”
My eyebrows rose. “I have no idea who she is.”
“Definitely on the B-list.” Sid chuckled, referring to Davis’s status in Hollywood. He went over to our office bookshelf and pulled the movie almanac off it. He flipped through the pages, then raised his eyebrows. “Looks like Jay wasn’t exaggerating. She’s been working pretty steadily since Fifty-three.”
“Wow. Does it say how old she is?”
“Born in January ‘Forty-three.” Sid shrugged. “Even odds that’s true. So, she would have been nine or ten when Sheila was killed.”
“I wonder if she remembers it.”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
“What about Jane Smith?” I frowned as I bit my lower lip. “It seems to me that she’d remember something.”
“If she were alive.” Sid replaced the almanac. “Jay said that’s what Davis told him when he talked to her a few months back. And hung up right after that without saying much more.”
“What?” I couldn’t help chuckling. “Davis didn’t want to talk about her mother’s infamous past? Who knew?”
Sid chuckled, too. “Still, we should probably look up the death certificate and verify it.”
“Probably.” I looked over my papers. “Who else have we got?”
“Rhoda Farber, Tina Goetz, and Earline Spinner.” Sid slid back into his desk chair and frowned at the screen. “I’ve got phone numbers for Farber, Goetz, and Davis. Jay said that Spinner didn’t come up when he called directory assistance for the California area codes. Or when his intern did.”
“Then how does Jay know that Spinner came out here?” I frowned at the paper in front of me. The student’s handwriting was worse than Sid’s, and his is pretty awful.
“One of the other women, a Miranda Stoddard, kept in touch with some of the others. Not sure why. Jay said that he got the impression from Stoddard that Jane Smith was very protective of her girls. And come to think of it, there is emergency contact information for almost every woman in the ledger, including Stella.”
“Another way to find them?”
Sid shook his head. “Jay already tried. That’s how he got to Stoddard. But most of the contact people have long since died. Or the woman remained cut off from her family.”
I studied him, but again his face was not readable. “You okay?”
I looked at him again, but then Conchetta Ramirez came in with the mail. She’s our housekeeper, about medium height, with gray-streaked black hair she generally wears in a long braid down her back. That morning, she had on a gray hooded zip-front sweatshirt over a black long-sleeved t-shirt featuring the latest Ramones tour. Conchetta has an incredible collection of hard rock and heavy metal t-shirts, mostly from concerts she’s been to.
“You got a package today,” she told Sid, handing him the large, flat box with the FedEx logo on it.
Conchetta picks up our mail from the rental box every morning before she comes in.
“Thanks,” said Sid with a smile.
Conchetta shrugged and left without another word. She’s pretty cantankerous, especially when we get friendly with her. Unfortunately, thanks to her previous employers, she has good reason to be. Sid grabbed the letter opener out of the pencil cup next to his computer and went to work on the box.
“Is that what I think it is?” I asked, sighing as I looked at the stack of papers still to be graded.
“It’s got Reilly’s name on it,” Sid said, struggling a little as he got the box open.
When the last of the tape fell away, he pulled out a black three-ring binder, three inches thick and stuffed with paper, and a manila envelope full of black and white photos.
“Wow,” I said.
“This is it, alright.” Sid thumbed through the photos, then opened up the binder. “Looks like there are notes here on everyone Reilly, Senior, interviewed.” He fell silent as he read. “Huh. Looks like Van Blinn was their number one suspect.”
“Hm.” I frowned. “And what do you think?”
Sid winced. “Well, we both know that when cops focus in on a suspect, it’s more often than not with cause. The problem is, I just didn’t get that guilty feeling from him. Which means he either has so thoroughly convinced himself of his innocence, he doesn’t act guilty, or he didn’t do it.”
“And if he did, does that have any effect on what we’re supposed to be looking at him for?”
“Who knows?” Sid rolled his eyes, shook his head, then looked back at the binder. “I suspect that we might have to say something if it becomes obvious he once literally got away with murder. Or maybe not. At this point, it’s not up to us, especially without some solid evidence, which we do not have.”
“True.” I looked at the stack of papers again and sighed.
“You okay?”
“It’s just that I’d rather be looking at that casebook than grading papers. But if I don’t stay on top of the papers, I’ll be drowning in no time, not to mention my other courses.” I shut my eyes. “I’m glad I’m doing this. I really am. But I’m also having one of my ‘what am I doing?’ moments.”
Sid laughed. “I believe it. But like you kept telling me when I got stressed out over my masters work, it will be worth it in the long run.”
“You’re right.” I glared at the papers again, then took a deep breath. “Okay. Let me burn through these, then maybe I can spend an hour reading the case book before I do my reading for tomorrow’s class. Oh, and I’ve got to go to the copy store, too, sometime today.”
The phone rang again, and in deference to me, Sid grabbed it.
“Uh-huh,” he grumbled. “Yeah, I got it… I know, but, Stella, we’re not cops. We have to believe that someone out there got away with murder a lot of years ago and is not going to be happy about us poking around. And if he already killed once… Yes, I do want to know. And I totally understand why you do… Well, excuse me if I want all of us to come out of this alive…” He sighed deeply. “I’ll get you the copies. Do you want the photos, too…? Fine… I’ll talk to you later.”
He slammed the phone down.
I looked up at him. “She wants to see the casebook, doesn’t she?”
“She wants full copies.” Sid groaned and got up from his desk to pace. “She doesn’t get it. This is dangerous.”
“I know.” I closed my eyes. “But we are sort of like cops.”
“BFD,” Sid said. Okay, he did not use the acronym. “Fedders gave her the same list of contacts he just gave me. What the hell was that idiot thinking?”
“The same thing that Jane Reilly is thinking? The more eyes on this, the better?” I made a face. “He may even have a point. And if we share what we have with Stella, what are the odds we can keep tabs on her and keep her out of trouble?”
“How about nil? Zip. Zero.” Sid shuddered. “Plus, we’ve got Van Blinn to worry about.”
“Sid, she got the same information from Fedders that we did. You know she’ll get into bigger trouble if we don’t work with her.”
Sid’s language got exceptionally foul, even for him, and his pacing grew faster.
“And I can’t tell her I won’t get the casebook copied for her.” He cursed again. “I should have. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I got up and pulled him into my arms. “Even if you had told her no about the copy, she would have found some other way to get the casebook. Let’s be thankful that we’ve got the skills to keep her as safe as can be.”
“You’re right,” he said, squeezing me tightly.
“Let me get through these papers while you’re reading the casebook. Then I’ll take it to the copy store. I’ve got copying to do anyway.” I put my hands up as Sid sighed. “You know I’d buy the book if I could. But the student bookstore says that it’s out of print, and there don’t seem to be any used copies anywhere. So I’m stuck with the library copy, and they’re not going to let me mark it up and keep it all semester. And what if I need it for my dissertation?”
“I get it.” Sid pulled me close to him. “Why don’t I help? It will go faster and be more interesting, anyway.”
“Fine.”
We kissed lazily but then had to go back to work. I was done grading just in time for lunch. After Sid and I ate, we headed to the copy store, where we went to work copying both the casebook and Jane Smith’s ledger, and then the book that I needed for my project on teaching Shakespeare’s more awkward plays for modern audiences, such as Othello and Taming of the Shrew. I finished with the book first, then grabbed the copies of the ledger and started feeding them into the copy machine. Sid was waiting for more change.
“Sid,” I said as he came back to the machine next to me. “I just had a couple of thoughts. Didn’t Van Blinn say he was staying with a friend named Earline?”
Sid frowned as he fed quarters into the machine. “You know. I think you’re right.”
“Earline Spinner was one of the people that Fedders couldn’t get a phone number for. She would almost have to be the friend that Van Blinn was talking about.”
Sid made a face. “Which means we’re going to be talking to Van Blinn again. I can’t wait.”
“And here’s something else.” I held up a sheet from the ledger. “That code. You want to try and crack it? Or we could send it up to San Francisco.”
We have a code expert living there.
“That’s a good question.” Sid shook his head. “Why don’t we hold off? We also have a cover to keep intact. It wouldn’t be good to know too much about that sort of thing.”
Nick was home from school when we got back to the house. He told us that Sy and Stella would bring Darby home from the music school after his violin lesson.
“What’s going on with your homework?” I asked, sorting papers out on my desk while Nick hung in the office doorway.
“I gotta study for a biology test,” Nick said, smoothing out the two Band-Aids on his chin from that morning’s shaving lesson.
“Uh-huh.” Sid chuckled and looked at his son with some skepticism.
Nick, being very gifted in the sciences, doesn’t usually need to work that hard.
“Well, I do need to go over my notes,” he said, grinning.
“And what else do you have?” I asked.
“An essay on Merton for religion.” Nick didn’t quite roll his eyes. His class was reading New Seeds of Contemplation by the monk Thomas Merton.
“I liked that book,” I said.
Nick sighed. I couldn’t blame him. When you’re fifteen, almost sixteen, and your mother is more excited about one of your textbooks than you are, it can be tough to take. Sid smiled and shook his head. He’s an atheist because that’s how Stella raised him, having lost her own faith in the Catholic Church thanks to her father’s abuse.
“What else?” Sid asked.
“Reading to do for English.” Nick heaved the sigh of the utterly beleaguered. “And questions for History. It’s, like, so boring!”
I smiled at him. “But it’s an important part of being conversant in our common culture, not to mention understanding where we’ve been helps us to avoid making the mistakes of the past.”
“Mom!” At that moment in time, no teen boy was half as put upon as my darling son.
“Nick, go do your homework,” Sid said, smiling.
Our boy made a face. “I have to before Darby gets home anyway. I’ve got to help him with his geometry homework. And he promised to help me with my essay.”
“Then hop to it,” said Sid.
Nick slumped off. Sid watched him go with a look of utter satisfaction.
“I needed that,” Sid said.
“What do you mean?”
“There was just something so incredibly, wonderfully normal about that exchange just now.” He slid into his desk chair. “Honestly, Lisa? I cannot believe how much I love that little squid.”
Um. He didn’t say squid.
“He’s not so little,” I said, laughing.
Nick was almost six feet tall at that point and taller than either Sid or me.
“Nope.” Sid laughed. “Who knew I was going to come to such a bad end?”
That’s when the phone rang. Sid picked it up, said yes a couple of times, then held his hand over the mouthpiece of the handset.
“Jesse and Frank have a report for us,” Sid said quietly. “They want to come over.”
“Sure,” I said. “The whole crew?”
Meaning Jesse and Frank’s wives, Kathy and Esther, plus Jesse’s toddler son, Keshon.
“Nah,” said Sid. “Keshon’s got a cold, and Kathy says she’s getting it, too. And Esther got in late last night from Vegas, so she wants to keep watching for movement on Van Blinn.”
“Okay.”
Frank and Jesse arrived on our doorstep within twenty minutes and sat with us in our office with the door shut.
“Esther’s fancy tracker seems to be working,” said Jesse. His skin is the shade of cocoa out of the box, and he keeps his hair in a relatively short but round cut. “I was on the radio with Frank all the way to Newport Beach, and our locations matched. Well, close enough.”
“That’s good to know,” said Sid.
“Anyway, the target landed at a house in a gated community,” Jesse continued.
“He hasn’t gone anywhere since he got there yesterday,” Frank said, yawning and scratching the back of his dark hair. “I took over visual surveillance from outside the gates. There’s a road overlooking the house from the back, and I was able to see through the sliding glass door into the room where the target was. He turned out the lights at nine p.m. sharp and went straight to bed, which is when I took off.” He winced. “You did say not to stay too tight on him, right?”
“Yeah, we did.” Sid smiled at Frank.
“Once I get home, I’ll take over monitoring.” Frank sat up straight. “Esther wants to go out to the community and check out the electronic security on the tract and maybe the target’s house. She thinks she can get the code for the security gate, too.”
“But here’s the interesting part about that.” Jesse leaned back and chuckled. “We may not need that code. I got in today without problem. I told him I had an appointment with a client, and the guard just looked at my ID and waved me through. Didn’t write the name down or ask with who.”
“That’s convenient,” I said.
Sid shifted in his chair. “I’m willing to bet that security is a lot tighter at night. We probably won’t need it, but it would be good to have that gate code.” He glanced over at me. “Why don’t I take a turn at visual surveillance tomorrow morning?”
“Oh, and we have a license plate number for you,” Jesse said, handing me a slip of paper. “Along with the address on the house.”
Sid got up. “Great. Thanks, guys. I’ll touch base with both of you in the morning.”
Sid and I walked Jesse and Frank to the door. Back in the office, I looked at the paper Jesse had given me.
“I’ll have some time between classes tomorrow,” I said. “I can go to the library and look up that phone number you have for Van Blinn in the reverse directory.” I checked my watch. “It’s a bit late for a DMV search on that license plate, though.”
“We’ll need a case number anyway.” Sid sank into his chair and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Are your eyes bothering you?” I asked.
Sid is very near-sighted and wears contact lenses.
“A little.” He blinked.
I put my hand on the phone. “I’ll call Lillian.”
Lillian couldn’t give me a case number right away, but said she’d page me when she got one.
Darby hollered that he was home at that moment. Sy and Stella had just dropped him off and didn’t come in. It was dinnertime, and the conversation at the table was mostly about the boys’ homework and how insanely boring their history teacher was.
After dinner, we all retreated to the library, where the boys usually did their homework unless it needed to be typed. Then they’d retreat to Nick’s room, where he had a computer and printer set up. Sid had several magazines he wanted to read. I had my homework reading to do. The boys squabbled quietly as they helped each other, but I only had to remind them not to call each other names a couple of times. All in all, it was a very pleasant evening.
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.