The Dark and Deadly Pool (18 page)

“There it is,” Fran said, as we leaned over and stared into the empty planter. “The hiding place.”

Deeley called to us from the office doorway. “What are you two doing with that tree?”

Fran carefully lowered the ficus and its base back onto an inside rim that held it in place. “This tree needs a dentist,” he said to Deeley. “Definitely has a cavity, maybe even needs a root canal.”

Deeley frowned at him. “That’s supposed to be a joke?”

“He has a strange sense of humor,” I said to Deeley. I tried to act calm and composed, but inside I was jumping up and down with excitement.

Deeley went back into the office, and I said to Fran, “Now we can tell Lamar what we know.”

“Not yet,” he said. “We don’t know enough. We’re guessing that the stolen objects were hidden in the planter, but we don’t know how they were taken from here. A silver platter could go through the pool, but it wouldn’t help a painting.”

“Anyone inside the club could walk out through the
doors in the glass wall. They open from inside even when they’re locked. They just don’t open from the outside for people trying to get in.”

“So the thief could just walk out with the loot?”

I nodded eagerly. “Right around the pool and through the gap in the wall. Now, can we talk to Lamar?”

“One more thing,” Fran said. “How was the stolen stuff brought in here?”

I leaned back in my chair. “Darned if I know.”

The door from the hotel opened as Mrs. Bandini and Mrs. Larabee came in. Mrs. Bandini was carrying a box about a foot square in addition to her usual gym bag. They were dressed in almost identical purple jogging suits, and Mrs. Bandini had a green plaid scarf tied jauntily around her hair.

As soon as they spotted me they waved and yoo-hooed and bobbled toward us as fast as they could go. Their smiles grew even broader as they came to a stop. Fran and I got to our feet. I introduced him.

Mrs. Bandini included Fran in her smile. “I remember you. Room service,” she said.

“That’s right,” Fran answered.

“You’re a very nice boy. Pauly likes you,” she said. Then she turned to me, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve got two surprises for you, Mary Elizabeth. The first one you can enjoy right now.”

With great ceremony she put the box on the table and removed the lid. It was filled with homemade cookies, golden and crispy and rich with the fragrances of butter and vanilla.

“Wow!” Fran said.

“Try one! Right now!” Mrs. Bandini said to me. “I’m glad your young friend is here. He’ll enjoy some too.”

I wished she hadn’t said that.

Fran winced, but it didn’t stop him from reaching for a cookie. Under the bright light of her smile I tried a cookie too. It dissolved into soft, sugary explosions on my tongue.

“These are great!” I said. Fran didn’t say anything. He was busy reaching for more cookies.

The door banged open and one of the deep towel carts pushed through, with Art Mart guiding it. The cart rattled over the tiles, coming to a stop by the office door.

Art looked over at us, checked the clock, and frowned because it was only ten until three and there was nothing he could complain about.

Mrs. Bandini waved him over. “Come have a cookie,” she said. “Mary Elizabeth won’t mind.”

Art strolled over, looked at the cookies, and took one. “You made these, Liz?”

“Mrs. Bandini made them.”

“But they’re her cookies,” Mrs. Bandini said, “because I gave them to her for a present. They’re not as fancy as Mr. Kamara’s present, but they’re given with my fondest wishes.”

Art glanced sideways at me, the cookie suspended halfway to his mouth. “Mr. Kamara’s present?”

Mrs. Larabee, who had been quiet for too long and now saw a perfect opportunity to jump in, immediately said, “A lovely cloisonné locket on a gold chain. He gave it to her for saving his life.”

I closed my eyes and stifled a groan.

“When was that?” Art asked.

Mrs. Larabee and Mrs. Bandini rushed to give him all the details.

“You’re not wearing the locket,” Art said to me. “Where is it?”

“It wouldn’t look right to wear it at work with my
uniform,” I said. I glanced at the clock. “And speaking of uniforms. I’d better get to work. It’s almost three o’clock.” I didn’t want to show anyone the locket until I’d talked to Detective Jarvis, especially a jerk like Art Mart.

Fran said, “I’ll just take one more cookie for good luck, and I’ll see you later, Liz.”

“But how about—”

“Later,” he said. “Got to report to work on time.”

Deeley stood in the office doorway, plastic purse in hand, her eyes on me; so I thanked Mrs. Bandini again for the cookies, picked up the box, and hurried to the office. Art was right behind me. “Stack the towels on the shelves right now,” he said to me, “then call housekeeping for someone to pick up the cart.”

“I’ll just have a couple of cookies before I leave,” Deeley said, and reached into the box. “I was afraid your crazy friend was going to eat all of them.”

“Fran isn’t crazy,” I said, wondering why I felt so defensive. “He’s nice.”

“Any guy who fools around with the artificial trees, and says they’ve got cavities, seems crazy to me.”

“What are you talking about?” Art asked.

“That ficus tree next to the pool,” Deeley said. “It’s come loose, I guess, and her friend was poking around inside.”

Art scowled at me. “He didn’t break it, did he?”

“He didn’t hurt anything,” I said. I put the top on my box of cookies before they all disappeared, tucked it on the ledge behind me, and locked my purse in the bottom drawer of the desk. “See you tomorrow,” I said to Deeley.

“Bye,” she answered, and left.

Art left too. I didn’t ask if he’d be back. I was just glad the old grouch was gone. I was getting nervous about
that locket and list in my hip pocket. I decided if I couldn’t give them to Detective Jarvis, I’d give them to Lamar. Fran may have put Lamar on our list of suspects, but I didn’t agree.

I dialed the security office, and Tina answered. “Lamar’s out of the building,” she said, then lowered her voice as she added, “Marco Soledat had lunch duty today, but he didn’t show up for work. Lamar went to Soledat’s address, and found he moved his things out. The apartment was rented furnished, so Soledat didn’t have any trouble leaving in a hurry.”

“He must have been tipped off,” I said.

“Looks like it.”

“It’s Lamar’s fault,” I said. “He told too many people about it.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Tina began, but I interrupted her.

“Tina, some people are coming into the club, and I’ve got to take care of them. Will you ask Lamar to come here as soon as he gets back?”

“Sure,” she said, “but why?”

“Just tell him it’s important. Thanks.” I hung up just as a group sauntered into the office with bathing suits over their arms.

I handed them towels from the cart, then put the rest of the towels on the closet shelves. The cart was deep, and I was almost out of breath from all that bending and stretching by the time the last towel was tucked into place. I stood there staring at the towel cart while something wiggled in the back of my mind. What? Why should the towel cart make me feel so uncomfortable? I couldn’t answer my question, so I pushed the cart out of the path of traffic from the hotel to the health-club office. Things weren’t working out as well as I had hoped they would.
For one thing, I was disappointed about Marco Soledat. Lamar should have known better than to talk about it so much.

Per instructions I called housekeeping to pick up the cart, then set off for my usual beat in the pool area. Mrs. Bandini grinned at me as I neared her. “I didn’t tell you about my other surprise for you,” she said. “It comes tomorrow.”

“What is it?” I was beginning to be curious.

“My grandson Eric, who is very tall and very handsome. Didn’t I tell you I wanted to get the two of you together? Well, Eric is very interested in meeting you, after hearing all about you and what a lovely girl you are. He told me he would like to come to the club with me and meet you.”

I instinctively backed up so quickly, I almost fell into the pool. Meet Eric Canelli? It was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. Tall and handsome? Grandmothers are notoriously biased. I could imagine that Eric Canelli was even more horrible than his little brother. He’d had a few years more time to practice.

I smiled, mumbled something, and got back to work, wishing that Lamar would show up.

A few hours later, when the telephone rang, I grabbed for it eagerly. “Mr. Boudry?” I asked.

It decidedly wasn’t Lamar Boudry. This voice was high pitched and screeched with excitement. It took a few moments for me to figure out who was speaking and what she was saying. “Mrs. Zellendorf.”

“That’s what I told you!”

“You said somebody is in our house?” I gulped and tried to breathe again.

“Somebody
was
,” she said. “
Was
.”

“Oh, no! Did he rob the house?” I was shaking and
couldn’t stop. I clutched the receiver as though it were an anchor.

“You aren’t paying attention. Listen. I saw someone in your bedroom, but I knew you weren’t there, because I saw you leave for work. So I called the constable service. They came in two and a half minutes.”

“Did they catch him?”

“No, but they scared him away. As far as we could figure out, he didn’t have a chance to take anything.”

“Was he some kind of a nut? Did he trash the house?”

“Did he what? Oh. You mean make a big mess? No, except in your bedroom, and how much he did and how much you might have done I have no way of telling. I had two teenaged girls, and I know how girls don’t always clean up their rooms the way they should.”

“Mrs. Zellendorf,” I interrupted. My heart was beating loudly and I wanted to shout at her. “Are the police there? Should I come home?”

“No,” she said. “The burglar cut a little pane of glass in the back door, but I’ve got someone coming out in a few minutes to fix it, and I called your parents and reached your mother, and they’re taking an early flight home.”

“Today? But they’re supposed to come home Monday.”

“Would you stay if your house was invaded?”

“No,” I said, and then it occurred to me how much she had done. “Thank you, Mrs. Zellendorf. You were wonderful.”

“Just being a good neighbor,” she said modestly. “With so much crime in the world, we all have to look out for each other.” I could hear pleasure override the excitement in her voice.

I put down the telephone with shaking fingers. I was
glad my parents were on their way home. I’d be afraid to go into the house alone. I had to sit still for a few minutes until I knew my knees would work right and my legs would hold me up. The thought of some strange person in my own bedroom frightened me.

Everyone in the club seemed to be happily entertaining themselves and each other, so I wasn’t needed at the moment. I put in another call to the security office. Tina answered again.

“Lamar’s not back yet,” she said. “What’s the problem? Can I help you?”

“No. Just tell him to come here when he gets in,” I said, and hung up the phone.

I wished I could talk some more with Fran, but I might not see him for hours. I could feel the locket pressing against my hip. The content of that locket was driving me crazy.

Tina showed up in a few minutes, a few photo-ID cards in her hand. “It’s light on weekends,” she said. “All the convention guys have gone home.” She sighed. “Wouldn’t it be neat if some really good-looking guy joined the club and came in every day?”

I knew I could trust Tina. I had to tell someone. I had to get some advice.

“Tina,” I said, “I’ve got something to give to Lamar.”

“Cookies?” she asked. “I saw all of you on camera stuffing your faces.”

“Want some?” I asked, to be polite.

“No thanks,” she said. “I’m watching my figure.”

“Tina,” I stammered, “Mr. Kamara gave me a locket.”

“I heard about that.”

“And inside it was a picture of Dolly Parton.”

“Do you expect me to get excited about that?”

“Wait a minute. Behind the picture Fran and I found a
folded-up scrap of paper, and on the paper was a list of names and some other stuff about dates and places. I tried to get hold of Detective Jarvis, but he’s out of town, so I want to give that list to Lamar.”

“Want me to take it to him?”

“No,” I said, “I think I’d better give it to him myself.”

“Where is the locket?”

I just stared at her. Suddenly I was afraid of everything and everybody. I couldn’t answer.

“Anxiety attack,” she said calmly. “You’re wondering now if you should have told me about the list. You’re worried about what the list is, because you’ve dramatized it out of proportion.”

“You act as though it’s not important.”

“It probably isn’t. The guy who packed Dolly Parton’s pictures in row after row of lockets probably accidentally dropped it in yours and didn’t notice. Maybe it’s a list of his old friends or something from an appointment book.”

“Maybe.”

Tina took a few cookies—just to be sociable, she said—and left the club. I sat at the desk, studied, and filed the photo-ID cards.