Her green eyes filled and her voice broke. “Aren’t you…the wise one.”
“That’s why I get the big bucks.” He turned her toward a stool. “You sit, I’ll scramble, and we’ll plot strategy.”
She sat, truly trying to pull herself together, but she was not wholly successful. “What do we do…first?”
Good Girl! “First, I take a few days off from Care Wheels to work on this full time.”
“Then?”
“I talk to Judge Shepherd about what we can do legally.”
“Don’t bother. Lupe’s right. We don’t have a prayer against Kinkaid’s money and Dragon’s clout.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I have an idea.”
It wasn’t bad, nor the next one or the one after that. Doreen was soon her old quicksilver self. Thank you, God. As much as she wanted the boy back, he wanted this woman more.
“It strikes me, my red-haired darling, the chances of pulling this off are a bit like taking a swim without getting wet.”
”What else are we gonna do?”
He nodded. “I think it’s time you met Josh Kinkaid.”
“Can we trust him?”
“To quote someone I’m close to-”
“What else are we gonna do? One of my pithier remarks.”
“I simply adore pithy women.”
Byerly considered the El Paseo one of Santa Barbara’s treasures, a delightful maze of shops and restaurants off State Street, graced by fountains and flowers. It contained the authentic Street of Spain and the El Paseo Restaurant, where Josh and Addie were already seated when they arrived for lunch. Parcels surrounded Addie’s chair. She’d been shopping, obviously at Paseo Nuevo, a big, brassy mall across the way.
Now she arose. “I’m thrilled to meet you, Mrs. Byerly.”
“DeeDee, please.”
“I can’t thank your husband enough for all he did for me.”
“If you say any more I won’t be able get my head through the front door.” He shook her hand. “From the look of all those purchases you must have found an apartment.”
“Better yet, a house,” Josh said. “Why waste money on all that rent. This way Mums has a nest, and I have a place to come home to.”
“It’s just a small house on the Mesa, three bedrooms, but a grand view. Listed for $1.2 mil and they wouldn’t come down, if you can believe that.
Doreen pretended to be shocked, but he knew she wasn’t. “Maybe we should put our house on the market, dear, cash in on such foolishness.”
“We couldn’t afford to live here, then.”
Yakking about houses and furnishing them went on for some time, through drinks and ordering. Finally he steered the conversation to what they’d come for. “Josh, I need your help, at least some information. The other day a little boy was dropped into our laps.”
Doreen told the story. He added some details, mostly about losing Jamie last night.
“We have reason to believe both Jamie and his mother-her name is Amanda Sykes-are being held at the Kinkaid castle…"
“But why?” Addie asked.
He grimaced. “Mandy Sykes is the only one who can tell us for sure, and we can hardly ask her until-”
“They’d be in the tower,” Josh said, “and that place is-”
“Impregnable, you told me. Are there any windows?”
“At the top, facing the front.”
“Could someone scale the walls and drop down to-”
“Bars, Mr. Byerly, it won’t work. Strangely there’s no glass in the windows. I guess birds fly in regularly. When I was young I used to lob rocks inside, listen to them rattle around. Only I was caught and threatened with permanent banishment.”
“Why do they keep it locked?” Doreen asked.
“Secrets and locks are a way of life for some people. Granddad’s study was kept locked, although he let me in once.” He laughed. “All it needed was a few suits of armor-or maybe a roundtable for King Arthur.”
“We need to get into that castle, Josh. How about breaking in at night?”
“Tough. You’re talking walls, gates, sensors, cameras, three armed goons and a German Shepherd who’s pals with a Doberman.”
“We were thinking maybe we could get in posing as servants,” Doreen said. “They have servants, don’t they?”
“Not as many as you might think. Let’s see.” He actually counted on his fingers. “There’s a cook, Carmen, and her helper, Maria. You know her. Then there’s one maid, been with step-granny dearest a long time, and a housekeeper.” He thought a moment. “There used to be a butler, Jeeves, I think, no Jerome. Joy got rid of him and brought in this battleaxe, Hildegard Uberreich.” Josh laughed. “If you ever watch old movies, she’s Mrs. Danvers, only not as good-looking as Judith Anderson who played her in Rebecca.”
“Four women run the place?” Doreen asked.
“There’s the musclemen who act as chauffeurs and such, but they aren’t really servants. Oh yes, there’s a gardener.”
Doreen shook her head. “I still find it hard to imagine-”
“Oh, there’s lots of other help, day labor and per diems. I thought you wanted to know the live-in help.”
“Day labor? It might work. Who hires that?” She made a face. “Tell me it’s not the housekeeper.”
“It might be.” He shook his head. “No, I doubt it. Hilde isn’t from around here. She doesn’t know people.”
Addie said, “She probably calls an agency and tells them how many people she needs that particular day-or the next day, or by the week.”
Doreen beamed. “I ought to be able to find out what agency serves the Kinkaid castle.”
“Even if you could get hired on as day help, won’t they recognize you?”
I don’t think they’ve seen me up close.” She patted Addie’s hand. “In my checkered youth, I dabbled in amateur theatricals. Played a French maid in some outrageous farce once. I suspect with a proper wig and uniform I could give an encore performance.”
19: At The Gym
He held his tongue until they were in the car, then said, “You may want to play dress up, Doreen, but this is no college farce. Believe me, Dirk the Ninja is no French fop. He hurts people.”
“I know that, dear, but what else can we do?”
“We can go home to Monarch Lane and resume our nice, dull, boring and safe retirement.”
She made a face. “I thought we settled that. Jamie and Amanda need us. We can’t let them down.”
“Very well, but you just said the magic word, we. You’re not setting foot inside that place without me.” Again she made a face. “I mean it, Doreen.”
“Is this called putting your foot down? If so I don’t think I like it very much.”
“It’s called being a team, doing things together.”
She patted his cheek. “That sounds a lot better.” He stopped at the curb in front of her shop. “What are you going to do now?”
“Go home and try to come up with a plan so neither of us has to play domestics. It’s called appealing to better natures.”
“Always works with me.”
He dialed, got the machine, said, “Hi, machine, how are you today? This is Walt Byerly. Remember me? I’d appreciate it if you’d have Sid phone me as soon as he comes in. Thanks, you’re a good fellow, machine.” He’d always wanted to do that.
While he waited he forced himself to sit and read. It wouldn’t make the phone ring, but it would pass the time. On the front page of the LA Times he read: “THE METEORIC RISE OF JUSTIN WRIGHT.” Meteors fall don’t they? The sub-head read: “From Political Obscurity to White House Front Runner, Thanks to Well-endowed and Well-placed Backers.” One of them was well-endowed anyway. He read the names. A regular Who’s Who in right-wing politics, among them Karl Kinkaid and, surprise, surprise, Columnist Joy Fielding.
The phone rang and he heard Sid Rankin’s gravelly voice. “Two calls in the same week, perfesser, I may charge you a fee.”
“Think of all I’ve done for you.”
“My mind’s a blank. What’s on yours?”
”Justin Wright.”
“You’ve fixated on him.”
“Maybe with good reason. How do I go about talking to him?”