She was happy to see that the couple had resolved their differences and were back together again.
“I interviewed the manager of that fitness club yesterday,” said Uncle Alec, applying a thick layer of butter to his bagel, “and showed him pictures of the entire Gardner family. No dice. And none of the Gardners are members at the club either. I also talked to the girl’s mother, and here is where it gets interesting.” He shifted in his chair. “She claims that her daughter supplemented her income by giving private lessons to select clients. Unfortunately she didn’t know who these clients were—nothing was official.”
“What I find curious is what Marcia Gardner was doing at her brother’s house in the middle of the night,” said Chase.
“Probably discussing this succession business we’ve been hearing so much about,” said Uncle Alec.
“What did you do with that goatherd, Mom?” asked Odelia now.
“I didn’t throw it away if that’s what you think,” said Mom. “It’s in your father’s old office, waiting for him to glue it back together.” She gave her husband a pointed look, causing the latter to slightly wilt.
“I was going to do it this weekend,” he murmured.
“So the security guard for Garibo Enterprises keeps sending you mysterious letters,” said Charlene, summing things up, “the Gardners are locked in a succession battle, a girl was found dead who bears a striking resemblance to a woman who went missing twenty years ago… I really can’t make heads nor tails of this whole business.”
“All I know is that a murder was committed, and I’m going to find out who did it,” said Uncle Alec. “All the rest… is just noise as far as I’m concerned. Stuff designed to distract us.”
But this noise, Odelia thought, was what made the whole thing so fascinating—and so difficult to figure out.
She glanced down at her cats, who were lazily lounging underneath her chair.
“Max,” she whispered when Charlene wasn’t looking, “how would you feel about an assignment?”
“Sure,” said the large blorange cat. “What do you want me to do?”
She quickly glanced in Charlene’s direction, but the Mayor was too busy talking to Uncle Alec, giving her opinion on the case.
“I want to pay another visit to Bobby Garibaldi—this time without subterfuge. And I want you and Dooley to join me.”
“Sure thing,” said Max, and she tickled his fuzzy neck in gratitude.
She rejoined the conversation, and discovered that the atmosphere had turned a little acrimonious.
“You disparaged my watch!” Gran was saying, pointing an accusatory finger at Chase.
“I did no such thing!” said Chase.
“I said it was war, and I meant it. Which is why Scarlett and I will do whatever it takes to find Vicky Gardner, and prove to you once and for all that the watch can run rings around your police department. Rings, I tell you!”
Chase let out a curt bark of laughter and shook his head.
“And now he’s laughing in my face!” said Gran, throwing up her arms.
“I think Chase is simply relieved that you’re not actually waging war against him, Gran,” said Odelia.
“What do you mean?” asked the old lady with a frown.
“When you said it was war, he thought you might sneak into our bedroom at night and murder him in his bed.”
Now it was Gran’s turn to laugh an incredulous laugh. “Me? Murder your fiancé? Are you nuts? I’m the most peace-loving woman on the planet. I abhor violence. I detest it. I’m the kindest, sweetest soul on the face of the earth!”
Now they were all laughing, much to Gran’s indignation. Even Max and Dooley were giggling, and Brutus and Harriet, who’d been sleeping under Gran’s chair.
“Ma, you’re a sweetheart, don’t get me wrong,” said Uncle Alec, “but peace-loving and non-violent? I don’t think so.”
“This is too much,” said Gran, and got up and threw down her napkin. She darted angry glances at all those present. “You mark my words—my watch is going to solve this case. And you’ll all eat crow!”
And then she was off.
“Just promise me you won’t get yourself arrested again!” Uncle Alec yelled after her.
“Oh, go to hell!” Gran yelled back.
And then the most peace-loving woman on the planet slammed the screen door—hard.
Chapter 39
Bobby Garibaldi lived in a pretty sweet condo in a new apartment complex near his factory. As Odelia had correctly surmised he was still home when we rang his bell at ten o’clock on the dot. And when he appeared in the door, he was toweling his hair, only dressed in aquamarine boxers with a pink elephant motif.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, not sounding overjoyed. “Anastasia Kuranova, was it?”
“My apologies again for the ruse, Mr. Garibaldi,” said Odelia as she walked into the apartment, Dooley and I right on her heel. “It’s just that someone told us that you don’t talk to reporters or cops, so we had to find some other way of approaching you.”
“Who told you I don’t talk to reporters?” he asked with a frown as he walked up the stairs, presumably to put on some more clothes.
“One of your security guards,” said Odelia.
“I talk to reporters all the time,” Garibaldi called down from the landing, then disappeared for a moment, before returning, this time wearing a nice powder-blue shirt that he was buttoning up. “As the CEO of a candy factory, I give press conferences. I give interviews. I even organize press junkets every time we launch a new product.”
“The story was that you hate reporters for the stories they wrote about your aunt,” Odelia explained. “And the police because you accuse them of botching the investigation.”
Garibaldi was finally dressed, and sat down in a small salon near the window, which offered a nice view at the courtyard of the apartment complex, complete with rock garden and landscaped greenery. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. I didn’t like the way you people wrote about my aunt. That she’d run off with my uncle’s money and some lover and had disappeared to Mexico or the Bahamas or wherever. There was never any proof of that. And the police seemed to believe the same lies, so…” He shrugged. “But I was a cocky kid back then, and as far as I’m concerned it’s all water under the bridge now.”
“What do you think happened to your aunt?” asked Odelia, taking out her notebook and a pencil.
Garibaldi placed his hands behind his still wet head. “I think she was kidnapped and murdered. Or maybe sold into slavery by human traffickers. My aunt was a very beautiful woman, only a couple years older than I was at the time, and I can see how she would have attracted the attention of some very wrong people.” He got up swiftly and walked over to a cabinet adorned with knickknacks and picture frames and picked one up, then carried it over to Odelia and handed it to her. “This was taken three months before she disappeared.”
I glanced up at the portrait, and had to admit that Bobby Garibaldi had a point: his aunt had indeed been a very attractive woman.
“Do you think she’s still alive?” asked Odelia.
“I doubt it,” said the man, placing the picture on the coffee table, where also a very large coffee table book lay devoted to ‘Candy through the ages.’ “If she were still alive, she would probably have been found by now.”
“Your uncle… he really suffered, didn’t he?”
“He still does. I don’t think he ever got over it. He hired a bunch of private detectives over the years, but they all came up empty-handed. I think he pretty much gave up.”
“Do you and him… get along?”
Bobby Garibaldi smiled. “What are you implying, Miss Poole?”
“There’s rumors of a succession war.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard those rumors myself. But I can assure you that we are a very united family, and that the succession war, as you call it, has been fought and dealt with years ago. I’m in charge of the company, and as soon as my uncle decides the time has come, he’ll step down as chairman, assign his shares to me, and then I’ll be fully in control.”