“That’s him,” she squealed as the figure disappeared from the tape frame.
The ferry executive stopped the video and began to play the one with passengers getting off in Catalina. She leaned forward, scrutinizing the people as they walked down the ramp off the boat. She pointed at a figure and said something. The man replayed the tape, froze it and enlarged the figure. But Emily slumped. False alarm—it wasn’t Bradley. When the last person went down the ramp, the man shut off the tape.
He asked her if she was sure she hadn’t seen anyone that might have been Bradley. She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry,” he said. No one said it, but I think we all knew there was only one other way Bradley could have left the boat.
“What about his car?” I asked.
“I was just going to bring that up,” Detective Brower said. There was just a hint of annoyance that I had beat her to the punch. The ferry executive offered to take us through the parking structure in a golf cart so Emily could check for Bradley’s Suburban.
We found it on the second level. The doors were unlocked and the keys under the seat. Emily prepared to climb in, insisting she was fine to drive it home.
“You’ll need the parking ticket to get out of the lot,” the man said. Emily checked the dash, around the seats and even the glove box, but there was no ticket. “Not to worry,” the man said. “I’ll follow you to the cashier and tell her to waive the fee and let you out.”
At that point I headed for the greenmobile. I needed to get back to Tarzana.
Before I went into the bookstore, I stopped by Dinah’s. She and the kids were folding laundry. E. Conner and Ashley-Angela looked like they were having fun.
“Aunt Dinah, where does this go?” Ashley-Angela said, holding up a towel that was coming unfolded. Dinah pointed toward the hall closet she’d converted into a linen closet.
She leaned close and whispered that it didn’t matter how perfect their job was; for now it was teaching them to take part in the chores of the house.
Dinah had just made coffee and gave me a cup that I sorely needed after the Long Beach trip. She told the kids to take a break and she and I sat down together, while they went off to the den to work on puzzles.
Dinah wanted to hear everything about everything and I started by telling her about my company the night before. “It’s about time those men waited on you,” she said when I mentioned waking up on the couch. I reminded her that Mason was always doing stuff for me.
“I knew one of them needed to do something for you,” she said in a remark pointed at Barry. I was never one of these people who insisted chores be divided down the middle. I knew that Barry was often so exhausted he could barely stand up. I was hardly going to ask him to load the dishwasher when he was in that condition. Besides I preferred the help to come like this, unsolicited.
When I told her about Bradley, she was shocked.
“He jumped off the Catalina ferry?” she said in surprise. “Not my first choice of suicide routes, but who can figure?” I filled her in on all the details, including how the coast guard was searching the whole area between Long Beach and Avalon Harbor on Catalina.
Finally I got to the part about finding Bradley’s Suburban in the parking structure. “Something about it doesn’t seem right,” I said.
Dinah misunderstood and thought I was concerned that no one had noticed it was parked for so long, and she tried to explain. “People probably leave cars there for several days all the time when they stay over on Catalina.”
“That’s not it,” I said. “It’s about the parking ticket. It wasn’t in the car.”
Dinah shrugged. “He probably took it with him.”
“That seems really odd,” I said. “If you were going to get on a ferry and jump off somewhere, and you went to the trouble to leave your SUV unlocked and the keys under the seat, why would you take your parking ticket with you?”
Dinah started to speak and then realized she didn’t have a pat answer. “Yeah, why would you?”
CHAPTER 8
“MOLLY,” MRS. SHEDD SAID, GRABBING ME AS I rushed into the bookstore. “What happened to you yesterday? You were supposed to bring in the crocheted snowflakes. When I left for the day, there was no you and no snowflakes.”
“I did come back to the bookstore. I’m afraid I’d forgotten all about the snowflakes, but when you hear what happened, I’m sure you’ll understand.” I walked farther into the store and she seemed very agitated as she walked with me.
She gestured toward the entrance area. “I thought you were going to put up a sign for the holiday event and a countdown sheet for the book launch. We want to generate as much excitement as possible. It would be terrible if the trucks rolled in with the books and there was no one waiting for them.”
I broke the news that I didn’t have the snowflakes with me this time, either. Mrs. Shedd sighed in frustration, but before she had a chance to chastise me, I stepped close to her.
“It’s about Bradley Perkins,” I said and she let out a little yelp. Mr. Royal was watering the Christmas tree and looked up at the sound. She covered her mouth and seemed even more agitated.
“Tell me it’s good news,” she said. “I’ve been trying to call his office and all I get is his voice mail or a woman who offers to take a message.”
I didn’t know quite how to tell her what happened, so I went the direct route and told her about the suicide note and my trip to Long Beach. The color drained from her face and I pulled up a chair and had her sit.
“Oh, dear,” she said, putting her face in her hands. She took a few deep breaths and sat upright. “You can’t tell anyone about this. Joshua was against it, but Logan Belmont kept raving what a miracle man Bradley was with money. Other people had lots of good things to say about Bradley, too. It wasn’t as if I was dealing with a stranger. Bradley lived in the area and everyone knew him. I kept hearing that he coached a kids’ sports team, was active in the local school and chamber of commerce. I was sure Joshua was wrong. I just gave Bradley a little of my savings at first, but when I saw the kind of return I was getting on it, I turned over more money to him.” She swallowed hard before she continued. “I used the store’s credit line and borrowed one hundred thousand dollars to give to him. Then a few weeks ago, I heard someone say they were having trouble taking their money out of Bradley’s fund. It made me nervous, so I called him last week and told him I wanted to pull all my money out. Bradley tried to talk me into waiting for a couple of months, but when I persisted, he said he’d need a little time. Something about his special method of investing made it impossible for him to pull out money at a moment’s notice. It didn’t seem right to me, but what could I do?”
I asked her who she’d overheard, but she didn’t remember.
The store was getting crowded. Mr. Royal had left fiddling with the tree and was helping a customer. Mrs. Shedd stood up and said we needed to take care of the bookstore’s business. Just before we parted she said, “Molly, you’ve done detective stuff before. Please find out what’s going on. You understand that if I can’t get at least the hundred thousand dollars back to pay off the bank, the bookstore might go under.” There was something desperate about her farewell squeeze of my arm before she put on a brave smile and went to help a couple standing near the local history books.
“THAT SOUNDS BAD. WHAT DOES SHE EXPECT YOU to do?” Dinah asked me later as I sat down at the table at the bookstore café. Mrs. Shedd had asked me to keep everything she’d told me to myself, but telling Dinah didn’t count. My friend had called about meeting and for once I actually noticed that my cell was ringing. Dinah said she needed my help with something.