“You’re a wonder, Mary. This is Irene Kelly. Irene, this is Mary O’Brien, who has been with our family for many years.”
“Kelly,” said Mary, “that’s a good name.”
“O’Brien’s not half bad either,” I said, and we smiled and shook hands.
Elinor thanked her and we stepped outside onto a small lighted patio. The patio held two large gas barbecues and some white patio furniture. It was surrounded by a low hedge. Pete was standing to one side, pulling nervously at his collar. I shot him a “this-had-better-be-good” look.
“Elinor Sheffield Hollingsworth, this is Detective Pete Baird.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Baird. I’ve brought you some sandwiches and coffee. It’s not quite the fare Miss Kelly will be dining on this evening, but I supposed it would be better than waiting for her on an empty stomach.”
“That’s very kind of you, ma’am. I know you’re very busy here tonight and I appreciate your letting me speak with Miss Kelly.”
“Think nothing of it. Do you wish this to be a private conversation?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. It’s nothing like that.” He turned to me. “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t need to worry about Hawkeyes anymore. I got a call on my radio a little while ago. He’s dead.”
34
WHO ON EARTH is Hawkeyes?” asked Elinor. “A man who seems to have followed us from Las Piernas to Phoenix. We think he killed two women there,” I explained. Again, that image of Elaine Tannehill came haunting me.
“Oh, yes, the story in today’s paper. What happened to him, Mr. Baird?”
“Department got a tip he was holed up in a little hotel down on Fifty-sixth. When they checked it out, he was dead. I don’t have any details yet. We might need for you to come in later and identify him as the guy you saw leaving the Tannehill place, Irene. But mainly, I just wanted you to know. Figured you’d be a little relieved.”
“A little.” In truth, I was wondering who was so thoroughly cleaning up after himself. “Thanks for telling me, Pete. I guess I’ll feel better when we know who’s really behind all of this.” I looked at him, standing there with his thermos and sandwiches. I never saw anyone look so out of place. “Aren’t you off duty?”
“Officially, yes. But I told Frank I’d keep an eye on you, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“I’m fine. Why don’t you go home and relax?”
“You’ll find out I can be just as hardheaded as you are. Go on and enjoy your party. Thanks for the sandwiches, Mrs. Hollingsworth. Sorry to disturb you.”
“Not at all, Mr. Baird. Good evening.”
He walked off across the gravel parking area. Elinor and I watched him in silence.
“What an amusing man,” she said after a moment. “I don’t think he came up here to tell you about this Hawkeyes fellow at all. I believe he was simply concerned about your safety.”
“I doubt that he worried I was in any danger in this crowd. He may have been checking up on me for other reasons-it’s a long story. Anyway, I suppose we should rejoin the others? Guy is probably wondering what happened to me, and I’m sure you want to spend some time with your other guests.”
“Yes,” she sighed, “I suppose so. But I’ve enjoyed myself. You must come out here sometime when there isn’t such a crowd.”
“I’d like that.”
We went back to the veranda. The others were just starting to move toward the hall, where dinner was about to be served. Elinor walked me over to Guy, who was talking with a local businessman.
“Thank you for loaning Miss Kelly to me, Guy, I’ve enjoyed her company.”
“I won’t say I haven’t missed her, but I’m sure the two of you got along famously.”
She left to go to her husband’s side and we moved to our table, which was shared by four other couples, all of them business leaders in Las Piernas. As I half-listened to their chatter about the effects of redevelopment on our downtown business district, I wondered at the net worth of the table (a fantastic sum, I’m sure), about what drew these people to these events (in a nutshell, power and influence) and if they really enjoyed them (highly doubtful).
Guy and I chatted amiably through dinner. I told him of my tour through the house. He remarked that Elinor showed very few people more than this modernized area, and that such a tour was a sign that she’d taken a great liking to me. One of the guests at our table said, “You’re Kenny O’Connor’s sister-in-law, aren’t you? I thought he mentioned his sister-in-law worked with his dad on the paper.”
Rather than going through the business about ex-sister-in-law and on-and-off reporter, I simply said yes, I was.
“Kind of surprised he’s not here tonight,” the man said. “He’s a regular booster of Hollingsworth.”
“He’s had an accident, I’m afraid. He may be out of commission for a while.”
Coos of sympathy all around while I tried to count how many lies I had just told. I hadn’t figured Kenny for having any political interest. He had a construction business, so maybe he needed to grease some wheels at City Hall. But I couldn’t figure out what a district attorney could do for him.
Dessert and coffee were served, then Andrew Hollingsworth rose and made a brief speech of thanks to his guests. As he spoke, I thought of how easy it must be for him to win over a jury. He had a way of mixing enthusiasm and forceful persuasion that made you feel as if he must be right about whatever he had to say. Perhaps only later would you realize that, unlike the warning on cereal boxes, the package had been sold by volume, not by weight.
The party gradually wound down. We took our leave, and I thanked Elinor again for the special treatment. Her husband and the mayor broke off a tкte-а-tкte when we approached to say our good-byes, and seemed quite happy that we didn’t linger.
As we walked out to Guy’s car he said, “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I tried calling Ann Marchenko. I’m not sure what’s happened to her. Her phone is disconnected and she seems to have gone out of town. I’m afraid it may be quite difficult to get in touch with her anytime soon.”
“Nuts,” I said. “She knows something, and now I may never find out what it is.”
“Yes, it’s all very strange, isn’t it?” he said. He paused as we got into the car. He started the engine and we drove out of the parking area and past the guardhouse. Pete had turned his car around and was waiting for us. I looked in the rearview mirror; sure enough, he was following us.
“I see we still have our shadow, eh?” said Guy. “Anyway, as I was saying, I thought there was something very strange about what had happened with Mrs. Marchenko. As I’m sure you know, bank employees who quit suddenly and then disappear from view raise our suspicions, so I did a little investigating of my own.”
I looked toward him. He had a grin of self-satisfaction.
“And?” I said.
“And I am convinced that she herself is not guilty of embezzlement or anything of that nature. But I think she saw something. As you know, she worked in our safe-deposit area. Do you know much about safe-deposit boxes?”
“I’ve never had much of anything worth keeping in one.”
“Then I’ll tell you something about how it works. The bank has one key; the customer has another. The customer must sign in, and the signature is compared to a signature card. The customer and a bank official walk into the vault, and the customer hands over his or her key to the bank official only long enough to open the small door behind which the box is kept. The two keys are inserted, and the box removed and handed to the customer; the customer’s key is returned. Usually, the customer is shown to a private viewing area. Under no circumstances are we allowed to see what the customer has in the deposit box, or to watch as he or she opens it.”