5
Sure, Madeline told
me that Dan and this Doctor Gerard character were having dinner
that night at a place called Piece. But she’d failed to mention
the time, and I’d been so worried about Dan (not to mention my
noticeable lack of circulation and how I was certain it was just
the first of the many ugly signs of hypothermia), I’d forgotten
to ask. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of watching
me stand in the middle of Graceland to try and call her back from
wherever it was ghosts went when they weren’t bugging me. It
would brand me as unprofessional, and something told me she would
enjoy that far too much.
There might have
been tiny drifts of snow on my shoulders, and yes, I was frozen to
the bone, but I knew what I had to do. Instead of worrying about
Madeline or about Dan’s dinner time, I came to grips with the
fact that my tour group was long gone, found my way out of the
cemetery, and hailed a cab.
Never let it be said
that Pepper Martin is not committed to her investigations. Even the
ones she doesn’t want to be involved with in the first place. I
got back to the conference hotel and took a very long, very hot
shower. Even before I could feel my hands and feet again, I was
bundled in jeans, a wool sweater, and the chunkiest,
flattest-heeled, most utilitarian shoes I owned (which were not all
that chunky, flat-heeled, or utilitarian, of course, but would have
to do). Thus prepared, I decided to go to the restaurant early and
stay late if I had to. It was the only way I could hope to catch
Dan and Doctor Gerard together, and maybe in the bargain, find out
if Madeline knew what she was talking about.
With that in mind, I
arrived at Piece Brewery and Pizzeria a little before five. There
was already a waiting list, and the tiny entryway was packed.
Luckily, it was no longer snowing, but the wind was still as icy as
it had been at the cemetery. When I stepped back onto the sidewalk
to wait, it hit me in the face, and I cursed whoever it was who’d
planned a February conference in Chicago rather than one in some
nice, civilized place like West Palm. My teeth were knocking
together and so were my knees. I hunkered down, stuffed my hands
deep into my pockets, and nestled my chin into the scarf I’d
bought at the hotel gift shop.
I know, I know . . .
gray is not my color and acrylic is definitely not my fabric of
choice. I was hardly making a fashion statement, but at that point,
I didn’t much care. The scarf cut some of the chill, and, more
importantly, like the matching gray felted bucket hat I had pulled
over my ears, it provided a bit of camouflage. I wasn’t ready to
let Dan know I was in Chicago, or that I had my eye on him. Not
yet. Not until I had a better understanding of what was really
going on.
“It’s
cold.â€
“No kidding.â€
I’d already answered before I pulled my gaze away from the warm
paradise that lay just on the other side of the front door of the
restaurant, and saw that the person standing on the snow-pocked
sidewalk next to me was a guy with a scrawny beard and hair that
stuck out in weird spikes from beneath his battered baseball cap.
The first thing I noticed was that he looked too young to be
homeless. He did not, however, look too clean. His standard-issue
green Army jacket hadn’t been washed in forever, and his jeans
were torn. His face was streaked with dirt. Even so, he had nice
eyes. They were as brown as a teddy bear, and just as warm and
friendly looking.
Nice eyes or not, no
way this guy was waiting for a table. Even before he spoke, I knew
what was coming.
“You got any extra
cash?†he asked.
As it happened, I
did. I also had enough experience in the downtown shopping
districts of cities far and wide to know that like ghosts,
panhandlers are persistent. I couldn’t afford to be pestered
while I was trying to go unnoticed and keep an eye on the people
filing into and out of the restaurant. I felt around in my pocket
for one of the dollars the cab driver who brought me to Piece gave
me as change. I pulled it out.
Homeless Guy almost
looked embarrassed. “Most people just give me quarters,†he
said.
“Sorry, no
quarters.†I held out the dollar, and I swear, he hesitated for
so long, I actually thought he wasn’t going to take
it.
He gave in; I knew
he would. With an embarrassed smile and a mumbled word that might
have been “Thanks,†he reached for the dollar. That’s when
something spooked him.
I can’t say what
it was, because as far as I could see, nothing had changed. Or had
it? There were still tight knots of people standing on the sidewalk
on either side of us. There was still traffic crawling by on the
narrow street just to the other side of the cars parked nearby. I
was still as cold as hell, and I wished he would just take the
money and get it over with so I could put my hand back in my
pocket.
Call it a hunch, or
maybe it was detective’s instinct, but I knew something was
suddenly wrong with the picture when Mr. Homeless snatched the
money out of my hand, tugged his jacket sleeves down around his
bare hands, and took off for parts unknown. At that moment, a cab
rolled up to the curb. A thin middle-aged man with high cheekbones
and salt-and-pepper hair got out first, and a couple seconds later,
Dan Callahan emerged from the backseat of the cab. While the older
man paid the driver, Dan waited on the sidewalk not twenty feet
from me.
I wasn’t going to
take the chance that he’d see me. Not this early in the game. I
thanked those detective instincts for the scarf I was hiding
behind, and spun around to face the front window of the restaurant.
For once, I didn’t focus on how warm the people inside looked. I
was too busy watching Dan’s reflection.
Here’s the quick
skinny on Dan: he’s cute (I may have mentioned that before).
He’s got nice blue eyes and brown hair that’s sometimes a
little too shaggy, and he wears wire-rimmed glasses. They must have
fogged when he stepped out of the warm cab, because he took his
glasses off and rubbed the lenses with one corner of the
houndstooth scarf he was wearing with a black leather jacket and
jeans that were nicely worn and even more nicely
tight.
“Well, are you
just going to stand there like a lump? Or are you going to do
something? Like follow them, maybe?â€
There was no
reflection in the window next to mine, but when I glanced to my
side, there was Madeline in her boxy skirt and her lab
coat.
My scarf covered my
mouth, so in the great scheme of things, I was glad I’d plunked
down my MasterCard and bought it. At least I could talk to her
without looking too loony. “I am doing something,†I pointed
out, though I shouldn’t have had to. “I’ve been standing out
here freezing, waiting for Dan. Now he’s here
and—â€
“They’re going
inside.†Even before the door closed behind Dan and the man who
must have been Hilton Gerard, Madeline was headed that way.
“You’ve got to follow them, Pepper. It’s the only way
you’ll find out what’s going on.â€
She was right, and
shit, but I hated when ghosts did that! Keeping an eye on Dan and
the doctor, I sidestepped my way through the crowd and was nearly
to the door when I realized I wasn’t alone. Not ten feet away,
Homeless Guy stood with his hands in his pockets. He was looking
exactly where I’d been looking.
And I’d been
looking at Dan.
Surprised, I stopped
in my tracks and glanced from Mr. Homeless to Dan and back
again.
By the time I did,
Homeless Guy was gone.
Peculiar, yes? But I
didn’t find it nearly as curious as the fact that Dan and Doctor
Gerard were already being seated by the time I walked into the
lobby. While the rest of us were still waiting? I was not a happy
camper, and Madeline’s sudden appearance atop the hostess stand
didn’t help.
With her fists on
hips that were curvier than mine and must have made it hell to buy
jeans that actually fit, she looked down her nose at me, the better
to convey her opinion at the same time she found me in the thick of
the crowd. “Now what?†she asked. “You’re not just going to
let them walk away, are you? Just like that? What kind of detective
are you, anyway?â€
“A damned good
one.†I’d already snarled back at her before I realized the
people standing closest to me would not appreciate odd
pronouncements from a woman whose teeth were chattering. “A
damned good thing there’s just enough room in here for all of
us,†I added quickly, and sent a sparkling smile toward the man
standing closest to me. I was glad to see the old magic still
worked. He was so busy smiling back, he didn’t look worried about
my sanity. He did, however, back up a few paces to give me a better
look, so when the door opened again and a stream of people filed
in, there was just enough room for all of us.
“Penelope!â€
Doris from Detroit pulled me into a hug almost before I had a
chance to recognize the people who’d walked in as the folks
who’d been on the cemetery tour with me. When she divested
herself of the red scarf and the pink mittens and pulled off her
hat, I saw that she had a head full of springy curls that were too
dark to be natural. “We were so worried about you, honey. What
happened? You didn’t get back on the tour bus!â€
“Er . . .
I—â€
“We were all set
to call the police. I mean, you can just imagine how frightened out
of our minds we were. And worried, too. But then somebody...it may
have been Myra. You know, the one from Dayton, not the Myra from
Albuquerque . . . Myra suggested we call the hotel first and good
thing we did. The front desk clerk told us he’d just seen you
walk through the lobby and go up to your room. Thank goodness!â€
Doris pressed one hand to her heart. “I wouldn’t want to be the
one to tell Ella that we’d lost her star
employee.â€
“That’s good.
I—â€
“And it looks like
while you were back at the hotel, you took the time to read over
the conference program schedule. That’s good work, honey.†She
patted my shoulder. “That’s how you knew we were meeting here
for dinner. Good thinking, Penelope!â€
“It is nice to see
you again.†Grant was right behind Doris, and practically before
she was done talking, he stepped forward and pulled off his
stocking cap. It was the first I realized he had a comb-over. I
stood transfixed, fascinated and appalled all at the same time, and
I guess he misunderstood. He stepped closer. “We can sit together
at dinner,†he said.
“We can. We
will.†I tried for the sparkling smile again. This time, it fell
flat.
Doris came to my
rescue. “We’ve got tables reserved upstairs,†she told me at
the same time she tugged at my sleeve to drag me
along.
With no choice, I
dutifully followed, wondering the whole time how I’d slip away so
that I could go in search of Dan. As it turned out, for the first
time in my investigation, which wasn’t much of an investigation
at all, my luck changed for the better. Our table overlooked the
main floor exactly at the spot where Dan and the doctor were
sitting.
As soon as I caught
sight of them, I jockeyed for position near the railing that
surrounded the loft area. I guess I couldn’t blame Grant for
thinking I was scrambling to sit next to him. That would explain
his smile when I sat down and stripped off my wintry
outerwear.
“So, you ordering
beer?†The way Grant wiggled his eyebrows when he said it, I got
the impression that beer drinking was something he saved for his
wilder moments, like cemetery conferences.
“I’m not much of
a beer drinker,†I told him, at the same time a chipper waitress
came by. I ordered coffee, and fortunately, there was a pot nearby.
She handed me a steaming mug, and I wrapped my hands around it and
soaked up the warmth. Of course, the whole time, I kept an eye on
Dan.
Or at least I
tried.
It was pretty hard
to do surveillance on anyone or anything when the cemetery crowd
kept interrupting.
“Resurrectionists.
Oh!†The aforementioned Myra from Dayton sat on Grant’s right,
and in her excitement, she nearly swooned. “I can’t wait to
hear your talk, Penelope. The Resurrectionists are part of the
reason I got into the cemetery field. I read about them when I was
a teenager, and I thought... well, some people would say it was
morbid, but I thought the whole thing was absolutely
fascinating.â€
I was supposed to
reply to this. I took a drink, instead, and pretended I didn’t
want to be rude and talk and drink at the same time. Not that it
mattered. A round middle-aged man at the other end of the table
took up the subject, and my companions were off and running. They
drank their beers and ordered pizza. While they did, I watched Dan
and Hilton Gerard chat and wished to hell my Gift included bionic
hearing. Then I’d know what they were talking about. What I got
instead was an earful of cemetery chatter.
“So, are you
finally ready to admit I was right?†Madeline popped up from out
of nowhere. She was definitely not responding to Grant’s most
recent comment, which as far as I could tell (since I wasn’t
really listening) had something to do with the benefits of sod over
grass seed at new burial sites. Madeline perched on the railing.
“I told you they knew each other.â€
My menu in hand
(just in case I needed to duck behind it), I turned slightly in my
seat, the better to look down to the floor below. Doctor Gerard had
just put down his menu. As if he’d decided not to order, he waved
away the waitress and then sat back in his chair, sipping a glass
of white wine. Dan sat across from him. He had a dark beer in front
of him.
“Having a drink
together doesn’t mean anything. Not anything illegal, anyway.â€
I mumbled this while I took another sip of coffee.
She shot me a look.
“You need to get closer so you can hear what they’re talking
about.â€
“Not a
chance.â€
I didn’t know how
loudly I’d said this until I realized everyone at the table had
stopped talking. I swiveled in my seat and found them all looking
my way. My smile was sheepish. “Sod,†I said, and scrambled to
remember everything I’d ever heard about the subject back at
Garden View. It wasn’t much. At least not much that I’d paid
any attention to. “In our climate, there’s not a chance we’d
use sod. It’s a lot more difficult to grow. It’s grass seed for
us. Every time.â€
“Just what I
thought!†Doris grinned as if I’d revealed the combination to a
Federal Reserve vault. “I always wondered how you folks at Garden
View keep the grounds so pristine. Grass seed, eh? What
variety?â€
I took another
drink, stalling. And in the next second, it really didn’t matter,
because a woman way down at the end of the table said something
about fescue and they were lost again in discussing the fascinating
intricacies of grass varieties as they applied to hillside burials,
old tombs, and mowing around headstones.
“You’re wasting
time.†Madeline was not happy. Like a sure-footed tightrope
walker, she paced back and forth on the railing, looking down at me
as she stepped past. “Who knows what’s happening between Danny
and Hilton! And instead of finding out, you’re too busy sitting
on your butt, talking about all the silly things you’re
interested in.â€
“Just for the
record, I am not interested in fescue.†I delivered this
information just as the waitress brought our pizza and everybody
was so busy oohing and aahing over it, no one heard me.
“Landscaping has never been my thing.â€
Madeline plunked
down on the table in front of me. Right on top of one of the three
pepperoni and mushroom pizzas that had been ordered for the table.
“Look, Danny is nodding in response to something Hilton said.
What do you suppose they’re talking about?â€
I looked where she
was looking and shrugged.
Not the response
Madeline wanted. Her already sour expression turned positively
tart. “Commitment-phobia,†she said, the word so sure and
precise, it was more a pronouncement than a simple comment.
“You’re feeling it now, aren’t you? You’re breathless,
dizzy. I’ll bet you’re nauseous, too.†She leaned nearer and
looked at me hard. “Are you sweating excessively?â€
“No.†I sat back
and tucked my arms against my sides, defending myself and my
personal hygiene just as Grant asked if I wanted a glass of beer. I
wondered if he noticed that I turned down his offer with more force
than it called for. Or that I was glaring at the pizza. Just as
quickly, I decided I didn’t care.
I slipped my napkin
off my lap and then bent to pick it up. While I was down there, I
looked up and made sure to tell Madeline, “I don’t have issues
with commitment. I’m not afraid of a relationship with Dan.
We’re not even talking about a relationship with Dan. We’re
talking about—â€
“Commitment
phobics—CPs—don’t just focus on interpersonal relationships.
Their fears . . . your fears, Pepper . . . are rooted in the
possibility of lost options and the dread of making poor decisions.
Most CPs show signs of commitment fears across many areas of their
lives. You probably don’t even recognize these indicators in
yourself, but remember, I’m a trained professional. I can see it
as clearly as I can see you now. That’s why you’re avoiding
Dan. And this investigation.You’re feeling sick, aren’t you?
Your mouth is dry, your hands are shaking. How about heart
palpitations? Are you having those? It’s all a natural response
to your condition, so don’t be afraid to admit
it.â€
I came up holding my
napkin as tightly as my temper. “I’m not—â€
“Sure, that’s
what they all say. At first. Until they learn to come to terms with
their problem. Counseling would help. You know that, don’t you?
With the right therapist, you’ll feel safe, and it’s the
perfect place for you to finally confront your fear of being hurt,
and your fear of trusting another person. There’s the fear of
sacrifice, too. Is that why you’re willing to stand back and
watch Danny go to jail? You think getting involved will
inconvenience your little life too much?â€
I tossed my napkin
on the table, and cemetery conference goers or not, I was about to
give Madeline a piece of my non-commitment-phobic mind. My words
stopped short when I saw Hilton Gerard reach into the inside pocket
of his suit coat. He came out with a fat envelope that he slid
across the table to Dan.
I sat up a little
straighter. I leaned farther forward.
Just in time to see
Dan open the envelope and peek inside.
And I was in just
the right spot to see what no one else in the restaurant could
see.
That envelope was
stuffed with money.
“See. I told you
so.†Madeline leaned over the railing. “There must be a couple
thousand dollars in that envelope. No way you can pretend that’s
innocent, Pepper. I’m right, and you know it. Danny’s getting
caught up in something illegal. He’s not going to be able to get
himself out of it, either. Not unless you help.â€
“I don’t know
what to do!â€
“Just sit back,
sweetie!†Doris had been anointed official pizza-hander-outer,
and she waved a wedge-shaped spatula in my direction. “You
don’t have to do anything at all, just hold out your plate and
let me at that pizza!â€
Doris closed in on
the pizza, and I aimed a dirty look in Madeline’s direction. She
got the message and slid off the table—and our pizza. There was
no tomato sauce on her butt.
“They finished
their drinks. They’re getting their coats on.†Madeline’s
back was to me, but I couldn’t miss the urgency that edged her
voice. “You’re going to miss your chance. They’re going to
leave, and you’re not going to—â€
“Excuse me.†I
pushed back my chair and was out of it and slipping behind
Grant’s chair in an instant. “I’ll be right
back.â€
I was almost over to
the stairway and on my way down to the first floor when I heard
Doris call to our waitress, “Miss! We’ve got a problem. This
pizza . . .†I turned in time to see her lay a hand on the pizza
on the table in front of where I’d been sitting. “This pizza is
ice cold!â€
Â
Â
Outside, I made sure
to stay well out of Dan’s line of vision as he and Hilton Gerard
waited for a cab. Madeline had no such constraints. As soon as we
were back out on the sidewalk, she drifted over to where they were
waiting. She was back in a minute, and she didn’t look
happy.
“This is even
worse than I thought.†She chewed her lower lip and glanced over
her shoulder to where Dan and the doctor stood. “That money Dan
accepted is for the special study he’s helping Hilton with. I
heard Hilton say so. It’s for supplies and
expenses.â€
“And that’s bad
because it’s money they shouldn’t be spending.†I nodded,
confirming the worst to myself, and I would have thought Madeline
would have at least been happy that I was finally getting on
board.
Instead, she stomped
down the street, far from where the bright restaurant lights
colored the snow. “You’re just not getting this, are you?â€
Her words were as desperate as the look in her eyes. “Danny’s
getting himself in big, big trouble, and all you’re worried about
is money?â€
I was glad to be
away from the restaurant crowd and in the shadows. I didn’t have
to talk between my teeth. Or keep my voice down. “What else am I
supposed to be worried about? It’s all you’ve told me.†And
when she looked away, I added, “Come clean, Madeline. Something
else is going on, and you better understand right here and now, if
I don’t know the whole story, I’m not going to
help.â€
When she turned back
around, she had the decency to look guilty. “I thought if I told
you about the money . . . I thought that would be enough to get you
involved. But I see that you need more. The truth is . . .†She
twisted her hands together. “Hilton has been interested in brain
activity for years. He picks certain patients at the clinic . . .
those who show abnormal brain function or those whose aberrant
behavior can’t be fully explained. Those patients are funneled
into a special study. That’s what Danny’s been helping Hilton
with all this time, and now, I just heard him say that he’s going
to come onto the clinic staff as a full-time
associate.â€
“And this is a bad
thing because . . . ?â€
Again, Madeline
hesitated. I guess the fact that I took a step toward her, fire in
my eyes, helped her make up her mind. “That special study?†Her
voice was small. “Hilton’s been working on it for quite some
time. I know the particulars, Pepper. And I know that some of the
people he recruits to be part of it... some of the people who go
into the study are never seen or heard from again.â€