Hiding in Plain Sight (10 page)

I tucked the card into my wallet, hoping I'd need it.

O
fficer Doucet had spoken to only two people — Darla Rhule and Angi Alexander — while he was at NUTEC. Naturally, this made me very curious, but there was no way I could find out what he'd wanted with them.

I spent a few minutes fantasizing about having fancy equipment like they have in movies. Hidden micro-phones or surveillance cameras would sure come in handy. I could picture myself playing back a tape and hearing the right bit of information. Nothing obvious, though. You know — the phrase that seems innocent and doesn't mean a thing to anyone else but that the really sharp detective catches and explains the significance of to everyone else as he solves the crime.

I think I might have been getting a bit carried away with myself. Fortunately, the fact that I truly
hadn't a clue helped put me back in a more humble frame of mind.

At least there was one good thing that came of Officer Doucet's visit. Before that, I'd been feeling pretty down and hopeless. Nothing was falling into place in my head, and the chance that I'd suddenly stumble onto an answer seemed bleak.

Seeing Officer Doucet again reminded me of how I'd felt exactly the same way in the past, and more than once, too. In spite of that, clues would start to make sense and everything would fall together like a big jig-saw puzzle. That helped me a lot because I got a bit of confidence back. All I needed was to actually have the solution come to me.

Angi came out of her office not long after Officer Doucet left. She came over to the reception desk, leaned down, put a finger over her lips for a few seconds, and then whispered, “Is the copper gone?”

“Yeah, the coast is clear,” I whispered back.

“I thought they had me this time for sure,” she said, expelling her breath in a way that made her cheeks puff out. “I guess I'm just too smart for them after all.”

“So, you admit your guilt,” I said. “How do you know I won't turn you in?”

“I'll deny it,” she said with a wink. “You got nothin' on me.”

I laughed.

“Anyway, now that I've given them the slip, there's something else I need.”

I waited while she made a show of looking around, like someone might be hidden in the corner listening. “Magenta,” she hissed at last.

“Magenta?”

“Ink. For my printer. I'm out and I happen to know that Janine keeps an extra one in her bottom desk drawer. You get it for me, I'll slip you a mint, and it will be our little secret. You can be bought for a mint, can't you?”

“Is it chocolate-coated?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then we have a deal.” I opened the drawer and found the right colour among a bunch of ink cartridges. She took it, looked it over, winked again, and reached into her pocket. She produced a small brown paper bag, like a miniature lunch sack.

“Here you go,” she said, passing me a plain white Scotch mint.

“Hey! This isn't chocolate-coated,” I protested.

“You just want to be thankful it's not covered in lint,” she laughed. Then she was gone back to her office.

I popped the mint into my mouth just in time for the phone to ring. Even though I pushed it into one cheek with my tongue before answering, my words weren't quite clear.

“I can't hear what you're saying. Is this NUTEC?” a woman's voice asked. She sounded annoyed.

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, letting the mint drop with a sticky plop into the palm of my hand.

“I need to speak to Marion Thompson,” she said.

“Uh, Mrs. Thompson is on holidays,” I said. “Would you like to speak to the person who's filling in for her?”

“No,” she said without hesitation. “When will Mrs. Thompson be back from holidays?”

“I'm not exactly sure.”

“Well, approximately.” She sounded pretty exasperated.

“I'm sorry, but I really don't know, ma'am.” I was about to ask if there was a message I could pass on but before I could say anything further there was a click and the dial tone began to hum in my ear. I sat the phone back in the cradle.

“How do you stand impatient or unreasonable people?” I asked Janine, who arrived back from James's office just then.

She shrugged. “Doesn't usually bother me, though once in a while I'd like to give someone a piece of my mind. Mostly, I just … hey, what's that in your hand?”

“Oh, a mint.” I stuck it back in my mouth and looked for a tissue to wipe my hand.

“Looks like one of Angi's mints,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Okay, what did you give her?”

“Ink,” I admitted, feeling like a kid confessing to cookie theft.

“Well, go wash your hands, for goodness' sake. And try not to be bribed so easily the next time. I always get a mint
and
something else, like this.” She pulled open a desk drawer and pulled out a cute little caricature sketch of herself painting her nails.

“There was supposed to be chocolate,” I said lamely.

“Second lesson.” Janine shook her head sadly, as though there was little hope for me. “Never give up the merchandise until
after
you get your payoff. That Angi can't be trusted. She'll promise you Belgian truffles and end up giving you Hershey's kisses.”

“So I found out.” I went to wash up, all the while thinking of how much Greg would like to have a caricature of me. I wondered if another opportunity would present itself, or if I could just ask her to do one for me. Since she'd fibbed about the chocolate, I figured she kind of owed me.

As I was leaving the washroom, I noticed a small plastic watering can on the floor near the sink. I filled it with water and took it with me.

When I got back to the reception area Janine was on the computer playing spider solitaire. I went over and watered the poor, neglected spider plant hanging in the corner. I was picking off some dead leaves when Janine spoke.

“I wish Debbie would take her stupid plant home. She never takes care of it.”

“It used to be in the conference room, didn't it?” I asked, thinking of the pictures of the crime scene.

“Mmhmm. Caused a problem, though, because Darla had put a fern in there first. Later on, Debbie brought this one, put it where Darla's plant had been, and moved the fern to another spot. There was an argument over it, and Darla was pretty mad that Debbie had moved her plant. I guess they both wanted the best light for their own plants or something. To tell the truth, I didn't pay much attention. I thought it was a pretty dumb thing to fight about. In the end, they both took them out of there and this is where the spider plant ended up.”

I'd been waiting for her to ask how I'd known that the plant had ever been in the conference room, having realized my mistake as soon as the words were out of my mouth. For some reason, and to my relief, that did-n't seem to occur to her. I changed the subject quickly, just to be on the safe side.

Janine gave me a few tasks to complete, simple chores that took neither brains nor concentration. It was while I was in the middle of one of these little jobs that a niggling thought started to worm its way up. You know the kind, when you can actually feel a thought or word or idea coming to the surface, and you know it's
the answer to some question you've been trying to puzzle through — and then something happens to distract you and you lose it.

In this particular case, what distracted me was Janine knocking over a paper clip holder, scattering what looked to be a thousand of them all over the floor. She claimed that she couldn't pick them up because of her nails, so I got down on my knees and scrounged around the carpet until I'd gotten them all. All that I could see, anyway.

After that, no amount of concentration would stir up whatever idea had been trying to form. I guess something had triggered it, and without whatever that had been, it just wasn't going to happen.

The rest of the day was uneventful, and by the time I'd made my way to see Mr. Stanley and then gone on to Betts's place, I'd forgotten all about the nagging thought that had been trying to come to the surface.

“
T
hat cat,” my mom said as I walked into the kitchen when I finally got home, “is the strangest animal I've ever seen.”

“What did he do?” I asked, not at all eager to hear the answer.

“Well, for one thing, he got up on the couch when I was doing the crossword this afternoon, up on the back of the couch to be exact, and then he tried to drape himself on my head.”

“On your
head
?” I tried but failed to suppress a giggle.

“On my head. Then, not half an hour later, Julia Pernell stopped by for a visit and he took some kind of fit, positively hurled himself from the room and hid, if you can believe this, behind the toilet of all places. Wouldn't budge an inch until she'd left, and even then
I had to coax him out with a smoked oyster.”

“You fed him a smoked oyster?” I wondered but didn't ask whether she'd opened a can especially for him. “Did he like it?”

“I'd say he did, since he almost head-butted a dent in my leg demanding another one. I told him they were too rich for him to be eating a bunch of them but he wouldn't listen.”

“So, how many did you end up giving him?” I asked suspiciously.

“Three.” At least she looked embarrassed admitting it.

“Uh-huh. Well, if he gets sick, I'm not cleaning it up. I've been good about feeding and brushing him and cleaning his litter, but I can't be held responsible for what other people do.”

“I don't think we need to worry. He started to wash up after the last one and then dozed off on your father's recliner. He's been passed out ever since.” Mom's face looked all fond and proud talking about him, even before she added, “He's really quite, well, unusual.”

“Maybe after Ernie goes back home, we could get a pet,” I said. It seemed like the best possible time to approach the subject.

“Maybe,” was all she said in reply. “Ernie is a kind of unusual name for a cat. I wonder how he came to be called that.”

“I dunno, I'll ask Mr. Stanley tomorrow when I go to the hospital.”

“You go to see him every day?” Mom looked surprised.

“Yeah. He doesn't have many visitors — mostly just his daughter when she can find time to go there. She works and has kids so it's kind of hard for her.”

“Well, that's really sweet of you, dear. I'm sure it means a lot to him. Time can go by pretty slowly when you're in the hospital. There's so little to do, the high-lights of the day are meals, and they're not always what you'd call great.”

“That reminds me — I wanted to take him some fruit and other snacks. He doesn't care too much for the food, and from what I've seen of it, I really don't blame him. Can you help me make up a nice basket?”

Of course Mom agreed to that. She's a bit of a do-gooder, so she loves any chance she gets to do something nice for someone, whether she knows them or not.

She happened to have a wicker basket that was perfect for what I wanted, so a quick trip to the grocery store was all we needed. Then she arranged the stuff — pears, apples, oranges, bananas, kiwi, grapes, a few kinds of chocolate, wafers, and fancy crackers. It looked beautiful when she was finished and had done it all up in cellophane and ribbon.

“I'll pick you up after work tomorrow and drop you off at the hospital with it, if you like,” Mom offered.

“That'd be perfect — thanks!”

“No problem. Oh, it almost slipped my mind. Greg called a while ago. He left a number if you want to call him back.”

“Of course I do! Where is it?”

“In the kitchen, on the fridge. I put it under the frog magnet.”

I ran to the kitchen and snatched the number out from under the magnet and punched it into the dial pad. I was so excited to be calling him that I had to do it three times before I got it right.

“Shelby, I feared you had forsaken me,” Greg said, by way of answering the phone.

“I take it they have call display,” I giggled.

“Perhaps they do, or perhaps my loneliness has sharpened my senses and heightened my…”

“I miss you too,” I sighed. “A lot.”

“Yeah, well, that's what I was
trying
to say when you so rudely cut me off. I'll have you know that I was even going to work in the word
bereft
.”

“Good word,” I said. “Were you going to say how you were all bereft without me, or what?”

“Well, you've ruined it now, so I guess you'll just never know, will you?”

“I guess not,” I said, strangely unperturbed by the loss. “So, are you guys still having a good time? And has your dad decided anything about when you're coming home?”

“Yes and no. We're having a good time, except for the one of us who's bereft, and even he is managing to put on a brave front. And no, nothing definite about the return trip, but I suspect we'll likely be on the road by Monday or Tuesday.”

“So you'll be home early next week, probably?” It was Wednesday, and I counted the days on my fingers. Six or seven more days! It seemed so far away.

“Probably. But he could just as easily decide to stay for the rest of the month. I'm just guessing.”

“I'm not even going to let myself think about that,” I insisted. “Talk about something else!”

“Uh, okay. How's the investigation going? Any headway?”

“Not yet. I just can't seem to get anything to come together in my head. Honestly, the closest thing I have to a clue is that there were a couple of plants in the room when the robbery happened.”

“And they're not there now?”

“No. They were moved later on. But it's not as though they could have anything to do with the robbery anyway,” I sighed. “I wish you were home. Missing you is probably affecting my ability to think straight.”