"I can see how that could happen, especially if it was someone who didn't know much about sets of clubs."
"Those minor employees at places like this are all foreigners these days," Bunting complained. "None of them have a brain in their heads."
Mel had to paste a fake smile on his face. "If you could describe it, I could ask around. It's probably in a secondhand store by now."
"No, thanks. I'll hunt for it myself."
"Suit yourself. Listen, I think I hear someone calling you," Mel lied.
Bunting went back inside. Mel walked away from the door and down the alley behind the theater and took out his cell phone. He called his office assistant, giving what the assistant probably thought were very odd instructions to do searches. And what to do with the evidence if it was located.
He went back into the theater, looking for Jane. He found her sitting in the front row of seats, needlepointing. She had something weird on her
head, like glasses with little flashlights at each side.
"That's cute," he said.
"It isn't cute at all," she said with a laugh. "But it lets me see what I'm doing. Why are you here tonight?"
"Just snooping around again. Have the caterers come yet?"
"They should be here any moment. Shelley just went to look for them in the alley. Good ones are getting thin on the ground. She's still hoping to find at least two that are really good, and is only pleased with one so far."
A few minutes later they saw Shelley at the edge of the stage, telling everyone that the snack supper would be ready in ten minutes.
"Are you going to be a taster along with me?" Jane asked.
"I will. I haven't had dinner. I might stick around and eat all the leftovers."
"I have plenty of good leftovers at home," Jane said, taking off her headgear and bundling up her needlepoint project. "I planned to have them with the kids when I get home. Want to join us?"
"I'll be a taster and eat again with you later. I'm really hungry."
"How's the investigation into Denny's death going?" Jane asked as they strolled toward the side steps to the stage.
"Fits and starts. No solid evidence yet."
"And you still can't get an answer from Denny's parents?"
"Nope. And I'm driving the local cops crazy, checking to see if anyone is finally at home. I hope I never have to meet them in person. They'd probably want to beat me senseless. I wouldn't blame them."
Shelley agreed to Mel tasting the snacks, and soon after eating, he and Jane left the theater in separate cars. When they arrived within moments of each other at Jane's house, her kids were already tucking into the leftovers. Mike had made a huge sandwich with a thick slice of meatloaf, mayo, and tomato. Todd had made a more modest sandwich with a thin slice of meatloaf and no tomato. He claimed that tomatoes gave him spots. Katie had picked at a tuna salad Jane had made before leaving for the theater. There was plenty of everything left for Mel.
Jane had seldom seen Mel eat so much at one time. He restrained himself from gulping it down, but ate steadily, complimenting Jane as he finished off the last of the tuna salad. "Do you have any dessert?" he asked.
"Only York peppermint patties."
"One will do."
They left the kids to clean up what was still left, and went to sit in the living room.
"I feel like one of your cats who just consumed a muskrat. But unlike them, I won't throw up on
the sofa or the patio," Mel said. "I don't remember ever being as hungry as I was tonight. I can't be sure, but I don't think I had anything to eat all day except a small bag of potato chips."
Jane turned the television on to a music station playing light classical and said, "A long day for you, then? Have you learned anything else?"
"No, but I'm close now. Those Roth people are bound to come home sometime, and I have some other searches going on."
His cell phone rang, and he stood up with an overstuffed groan and fished in his trouser pocket. "VanDyne here — yes!" He paused to listen for a while. "Good. Arriving when? Thanks for going to so much trouble to help us."
He turned off the phone and subsided on the sofa. "I ate too much. I feel as if I've turned into the Michelin Man."
"That sounded important."
"The well-traveled Roths finally came home. They're on a plane to Chicago as we speak. I'll have to meet them at their hotel at ten-thirty. Meanwhile, I need to walk this meal off."
"Let me know what you find out, if you can," Jane asked as Mel practically fled to his car.
"Who was that man who just ran through our kitchen?" Mike called out to his mother.
Mel went back to his office and did some research on the Internet before going to meet the Roths. He
was standing at the door of their hotel, holding a sign that said "Roth," when a taxi pulled up and unloaded a ton of luggage. An excruciatingly thin middle-aged woman emerged and said harshly, "Who are you?"
"I'm Detective VanDyne. I'm in charge of your son's case. Your room is confirmed. You don't need to check in and your luggage will be delivered."
"Who killed him, and why?" she demanded.
"We're not sure yet. I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am. I know you've had a very long, hard day, I'll take you or your husband to officially identify him first thing in the morning, and then we'll have to talk about him."
"I can't imagine why we weren't told sooner. My aunt in Portland, Oregon, had our schedule with telephone numbers, and my brother in Nebraska had them, too."
Mel was dumbfounded by this remark, but merely said, "Mrs. Roth, we didn't know you had an aunt in Oregon or a brother in Nebraska. How could we have reached them? I made several calls a day and your answering machine refused to record them. Is that all of your luggage?"
Her husband approached, lugging some of the bags. Mel introduced himself again and said, repeating himself, "I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr. Roth. I know you've had a long day. Unfortunately, I'll need one or both of you to identify
your son in the morning and then be interviewed."
The man, his eyes red and downcast, said quietly, "Yes. I see. What time in the morning?"
"Let's say ten o'clock?" Mel suggested. "I'll meet you right here. I'm sincerely sorry that you have to go through this, and will try to make this as easy on you as I'm able."
He had to tip the taxi driver, who was still standing by his vehicle with the trunk open. And then Mel tipped the valet who was loading up the luggage. Mel seldom let himself make snap judgments, but it was clear that Mrs. Roth was a type of woman he'd met before. An angry woman. One of those women who wanted full control of the lives of her family. And when she and women like her lost that control, they placed the blame on someone — almost anyone — who crossed their paths. Mrs. Roth was angry that the police hadn't solved the murder of her son. She was angry at Mel in particular. She was probably mad at her husband for no reason. Mel wasn't looking forward to dealing with her tomorrow. He wished he could deal with her husband, who was obviously grieving. He was more likely to want to talk about his son.
Twenty-one
The needlepoint group was really making progress. Sam had taken out all his sections that were too tight and redone them. Shelley's sampler was more than halfway done and looked gorgeous. Jane was only slightly behind Shelley. Jane, like Sam, had been forced to remove one section that hadn't worked out, and discovered that it was harder to work with canvas that was slightly limp from already being used. Jane and Sam sympathized with each other over this unpleasant surprise.