“Oh, goodness gracious. Another old wives’ tale. When are you going to stop believing that man? Of course she didn’t have a copy of Finkelstein’s Romeo and Juliet. No one does. The director destroyed every single print of that movie. Everybody knows that.”
“So you don’t think she was going to hand over a copy to Dan?” asked Chase.
“Of course not! There are no copies. A pity, naturally, because by all accounts it must have been the most amazing picture. It established Maria Power as a leading lady straight out of the gate, and destroyed the career of its director in the process. A beautiful story, don’t you think? Out of the ashes of Rupert Finkelstein’s career rose the most wonderful actress the world has ever seen. A little bit like A Star is Born, though without the dreadful music.” He heaved a sigh and showed us his arm. “Look. Just talking about it gives me goosebumps.”
“So you wouldn’t know anything about Heather Gallop or why she was in town to meet Dan?”
“Don’t know and don’t care. If you ask me she’s probably an old flame of Dan’s—the man is an inveterate Lothario, even at his advanced age. She must have told him she was leaving him for another man and he must have flipped. Goory has the most horrendous temper. But you know that, don’t you, dear?”
Odelia said, “Actually, I don’t. And I must say I don’t recognize the Dan I know in your description.”
“Then you’ve been very, very lucky, Miss Poole.” He gave a little shake of the head. “By the same token that dead woman could have been you.”
Chapter 12
Tex arrived home feeling only slightly more uplifted than when he’d set out for the office that morning. Examining strange and multi-colored spots on patients’ backs and gazing deeply into hairy earholes, infected throats and even poking his (gloved) fingers into one man’s backside for a prostate exam were all things designed to take one’s mind off any problem vexing it, and so by the time he’d sent his last patient on her way he’d almost forgotten that some dastardly demon had absconded with his gnomes the previous night.
Almost, but not quite.
And so by the time he’d changed into his Bermudas and loud Hawaiian shirt and was standing in his backyard surveying his domain, his melancholy was back in full force.
He’d asked his brother-in-law to investigate the case but hadn’t heard back. He’d asked his future son-in-law the same thing and hadn’t heard back either.
Fat chance the police would put every last available officer on a case as inconsequential as the theft of a few gnomes. Still, he’d hoped for more. After all, he’d practically been feeding Alec from his own purse ever since the man’s wife died, and he’d clasped Chase to his bosom, even going so far as to allow the young man to call him ‘Dad.’
He shuddered at the thought, then spotted movement from the corner of his eye and wandered over to the fence that separated his patch of suburban heaven from the next.
“Hey, Ted,” he said a little morosely as he leaned on the fence and addressed his neighbor Ted Trapper, who was busy polishing one of his own garden gnomes.
It was a hobby both men shared, and Tex liked to think it had brought them closer.
“Hey, Tex,” said Ted, looking a lot happier than Tex was feeling. “How was your day?”
“So so,” said Tex. “Yours?”
“Oh, you know. Dealing with office politics all day long doesn’t exactly uplift and inspire. But then I come home to find these sweet precious babies and any thought of strangling my psychopathic boss goes right out the window and I’m sane again.”
Tex idly glanced in the direction of Ted’s ‘babies’ and was surprised to find that they looked almost exactly like his own, now absent gnomes.
“Say, Ted. Your collection seems to have grown considerably,” he said, staring at one gnome that looked the spitting image of the crowning piece of his own collection. It was one of those fat jolly gnomes with its face stuck in a rictus grin and its apple-cheeked features just a little too happy for comfort. In fact he could probably feature in a Patterson novel as a serial killer about to slay victim twenty-three in a most gruesome manner.
“Yeah, I’ve been splurging,” said Ted, sounding a little guilty but not much. “Marcie isn’t too happy about it, let me tell you. And I did promise her I’d stop now. She feels my collection is about as big as she’ll tolerate, so there’s that. And some of these guys don’t come cheap.” He chuckled. “Listen to me go on. Of course I don’t have to tell you. You have some of the nicest gnomes in the neighborhood. Pride of your collection and all that. I have to confess, though, Tex, that living next door to you and seeing your frankly fantastic collection has given me that boost to go the extra mile myself.” He grinned. “Nothing like a bit of healthy competition between neighbors, eh?”
A look of suspicion had traveled up Tex’s face and he now asked, “Can I see that big one over there for a moment, Ted? Yeah, the one with the pea-green bib.”
Ted dutifully handed Tex the big gnome with the pea-green bib and Tex turned it over in his hands. When he saw the big red T on the gnome’s undercarriage he snorted wildly.
“What’s wrong, Tex?” said Ted, cautiously taking the gnome from his neighbor’s hands.
But Tex was too overwhelmed for speech. Instead he was breathing loudly through both nostrils, like a bull about to charge a matador and gore him.
“Do you want me to get you a doctor?” Ted laughed and slapped his brow. “Oh, silly me. You are a doctor! What am I saying?”
Tex finally found speech again, but when he opened his mouth, expecting fire and brimstone to pour out, instead a long drawn-out scream erupted: “THIEEEEEEEEEF!”
“What?” said Ted, stepping back a few paces.
“YOU’RE A THIEF!” Tex screamed at the top of his lungs. “YOU STOLE MY GNOMES!”
“What? I did not!” said Ted, retreating even further from his fire-breathing neighbor.
“That is my gnome and you know it!”
“Are you crazy? This is my gnome,” said Ted, cradling the gnome, as one would a baby.
“It still has the big red T I wrote on the bottom! Check it!”
Ted checked it and frowned. “Gee. There is a T.”
“That’s my T! I write T on all of my gnomes. T for Tex. So I can catch filthy thieves like you in the act—THIEEEEEEEF!”
“But, Tex, really,” said the man, growing a little white around the nostrils. It’s never pleasant to be accused of theft, and especially not by a neighbor having gone berserk.
“You stole my gnomes—confess, you THIEF!”
“What’s going on here?” asked Marcie, coming out of the house, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“Tex says I stole his gnome,” said Ted, now looking like a kicked puppy.
“Is this true, Tex? Are you accusing my husband of being a thief?”
“Yes, Marcie, I am,” said Tex. “Because that’s what your husband is. A filthy THIEF!”
“Oh, will you stop shouting,” said Marcie with a frown.
“He says I stole this gnome,” said Ted, showing his wife the gnome in question.
“There’s a big letter T on the bottom of that gnome. I wrote that,” said Tex, breathing stertorously. If a doctor had been present, and that doctor had been a different doctor from the one now looking close to a heart attack, he would probably have advised Tex to take it easy. But since there wasn’t, it was up to Marcie to take the sensible approach.
She opened the little gate a previous homeowner had once installed and that connected both gardens and said, “Tex, come over here a minute, will you?” Once Tex had complied, she added, “Now sit down. You too, Ted.”
Both men reluctantly sat down at the garden table, Tex shooting fire with his eyes, insofar as a mild doctor can shoot fire with his eyes, and Ted sitting at the edge of his chair, ready to bolt if Tex made the slightest move to violate the physical integrity of his person.