Beware False Profits (21 page)

Today the aunts had outdone themselves. In addition to the usual, they had made gnocchi. I looked at my number, then I listened for the next one to be called. There were ten people between me and the dwindling supply, and I hoped that half of them got tired of waiting. I even checked the floor, just in case somebody farther up the line had thrown a number away—even though that wasn’t exactly fair or kind. Fortunately for my better self, everyone thought gnocchi was worth waiting for.

I steeled myself to accept linguine and went to choose vegetables to go with it.

Marco found me among the lettuces. I refrained from asking when he planned to marry my sister.

“Aggie.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder, and I very nearly swooned. Although he and Joe Wagner are big Italian guys, Marco has an edge in the rugged good looks department. There’s just something about his eyes and his smile. Nothing I could ever adequately describe.

We chatted. Marco has two little boys, and we compared notes. Then he helped me choose an eggplant and three succulent zucchini. I told him I was planning a sauce for linguine since it looked like the gnocchi would be gone before I got to the counter. He left and came back with a package from the back and confided that he always put a little extra aside for his favorite customers.

Being one of Marco’s favorite customers was enough good news to take me through the rest of the day.

He walked me to checkout, and I dove into the other reason I had come. I told him about my conversation with Rube, although I didn’t tell him the problem in question might be our food bank.

“My friend was just making a guess,” I said. “But I wondered if you’ve ever seen anything like that here? Does it really happen? People show up with food you can buy at a discount as long as you don’t ask where it comes from?”

“It definitely happens. Last week a guy showed up with a refrigerator truck of freshly slaughtered beef. The truck had a Texas license plate. I’m guessing cattle rustler.”

“Really?”

He smiled, an awesome thing to behold. “We pride ourselves on knowing exactly where our food comes from, so we never buy through the back door, no matter how steep the discount. But it’s still not unusual to be approached.”

“How about locals? People you recognize?”

“That never happens. If locals are selling inventory on the sly, they’d be crazy to do it here. They’re probably selling it three states away.”

We said good-bye and I took my groceries out to the car. They deserved refrigeration, so I made a stop at home. I was heading out the door again when the telephone rang. No surprise there. I was sure the phone had heard me opening the door, ready to exit. From now on I would have to parachute from a second-story window.

My curiosity is insatiable. I could no more let it ring than I could stop myself from trying to find Hazel’s murderer. Maura was on the other end.

“Aggie, do you have a moment?”

Unfortunately my lamb mug was in the dishwasher, and my hangnail was covered with a Band-Aid. I leaned against a counter, squeezed my eyes closed, and visualized waves at the seashore.

“I haven’t heard from Joe,” Maura said.

“I’m sorry. I hoped he would call by now.”

“You haven’t discovered anything?”

Of course I had. I considered whether to tell Maura about Rube and Joe’s secret past, but unless I really had to, or Rube insisted, I thought I would keep that under wraps. I still hoped Joe would come back and tell her the truth himself.

“Nothing that will lead us to him,” I said truthfully. “But I’m still looking. I was just on my way to the food bank.”

“Oh, are you going to be there all day? Because I need a favor, but if you’re going to be gone…”

“What do you need? I’ll help if I can.”

“I have an afternoon appointment with Tyler’s doctor. She’s going over some procedures with me, so I’ll be up-to-date. I thought I had to tell her Joe is missing. I guess this could have effects on Tyler’s blood sugar so she wants to have a heart-to-heart. Oh, and we got the camp application all squared away.”

I was impressed. Really, right before our eyes Maura was evolving. She had responded appropriately to a crisis and displayed admirable maturity. I felt a sliver of pride that I was helping her along that path.

I also wanted the name of a doctor who took this much interest in her patients.

I made the phone call easier for her. “Do you want me to pick up Tyler at school? It’s no problem.”

“Would you? I’ll call the middle school and ask them to alert him. When you drop him at our house, just remind him he needs to test and do his shot.”

“You don’t want me to stay?”

“Well, I’ll be home by four. He
should
be okay.” She sounded hesitant.

“Not a problem. I’ll hang around. He’ll probably have stuff to show Deena, anyway.”

“That’s great. Thanks so much. When I gave you my key, I didn’t know you’d need to use it so soon.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

We hung up, and I sprinted for the door. As I was getting into my van, I thought I heard the phone ring again. I backed out as fast as the law allowed.

Cilla was alone at the file cabinet when I walked through the door of the Helping Hands executive office. Today she wore a tight blue T-shirt with black jeans and flip-flops. Her toenails were a glittery scarlet, and I noted a tattoo peeking under the hem of her jeans. I wondered if Joe had been attracted to her, or if there had been something sizzling between them? I’d come away from our last conversation sure that Cilla was in love with Joe. But did Joe know it? Were the two of them having an affair? Somehow I didn’t think so. Again, Joe was just too responsible.

“Cilla?”

She spun around and almost left a flip-flop behind. “Aggie? I’m sorry. You startled me.”

“You were a million miles away.”

“Worrying about Joe, I guess. Where the hell is he?”

“That’s part of the reason I’m here.”

The reception area was surprisingly roomy. The walls were a buttery cream, and both of the windows wore attractive plaid curtains that coordinated with a sofa sporting half a dozen needlepoint pillows. A rust-colored armchair sat catty-corner and all the bookcases, file cabinets, and end tables matched Cilla’s oak desk.

“Wow.” I walked over to the sofa and picked up a pillow. “Let me guess. Maura did these.” The pillows featured fruits and vegetables and were beautifully designed.

“She decorated the whole room and bought the furniture.” Cilla made that sound like one of many sins.

Except for the boxes stacked high around the edges, the room would be an almost perfect place to work. I had noticed more boxes in the outside hallway as well. I was surprised Maura hadn’t draped them with handwoven tapestries.

I pointed. “Not enough room in the warehouse?”

“The temperature there’s quite a bit higher than the temperature here. We can’t afford to keep it as low as we should for some food supplies. Anything that needs to be kept cool but doesn’t need refrigeration ends up in our offices. Sometimes here, sometimes the conference room, sometimes Joe’s office.” She inclined her head toward the closed door just beyond us.

“At least you always have snacks available.”

“You’d be surprised what ends up in the office building. Fresh baked goods. Chocolate and other candy that melts.”

“Yum.”

“It goes out as fast as it comes in. Right now these boxes have day-old doughnuts to serve at a party for the community gardeners tonight.”

“It seems pretty quiet up here.” I had noticed there were more offices farther along the hallway.

“It’s traditional for people to take time off after Mayday! Of course this year with Joe gone, that means the few of us who are still here are swamped. But you didn’t come for chitchat, did you?”

I heard the message. She was busy, and I needed to get straight to the point. I joined her at the filing cabinet and opened my purse. “I found these papers in Hazel Kefauver’s pocket.” I explained about the rummage sale. “I wonder if you’d look at them and tell me why Hazel had them?”

Cilla took the papers and quickly scanned them. “I think this is her handwriting.” She handed them back to me. “They look like something she copied, maybe from the warehouse files? Or maybe they’re notes from a board meeting?”

“Why would she copy something like this?”

“Well, it looks like a list of donations. Maybe the board was discussing expiration dates or moving inventory around at a meeting, and she wanted the facts.”

Since no one else was around, I felt free to continue. “Put aside your better instincts. Let’s pretend Hazel really was trying to find some problem here. Right before she died she told me there were some big developments in the wind for the food bank. I got the feeling she wanted to expose a problem.”

“I told you she was out to get Joe.”

Unfortunately I had a photo at home to confirm that. “Maybe there was more to it. Or maybe Joe
was
involved in something.”

“Don’t you think I’d know? He’s a straight arrow.”

I didn’t point out the tiniest little kink in that arrow, the monthly trips Joe had lied about to everybody.

“Okay, then think like Hazel,” I said. “You find these figures and they seem important enough to copy. Why?”

She considered a moment, then shook her head. “I think you have to ask the guys in the warehouse. Chad will probably know.”

“How do Chad and Joe get along?”

Something changed in her eyes. She had seemed perfectly open, but now some part of her was locking up for the afternoon.

She closed the file drawer just a shade harder than she should have. Then she went to her desk and squirted a few drops of hand lotion into her palms, as if to stall. I recognized the jasmine scent, which seemed to be an intrinsic part of her.

“I guess they work well together,” she said as she rubbed her hands together. “Chad’s something of a goof-off, but Joe knows how to make him toe the line without being obvious about it.”

“I’ll take this over to the warehouse then.” I inclined my head. “But I get the feeling you’re not fond of Chad?”

“I really can’t say more. I don’t want to lose my job.” She paused. “Not that I’ll want the job if Joe doesn’t come back. They’ll probably make Chad director, and I don’t want to work for him.”

I persisted. “You don’t like Chad?”

“He’s not Joe. What can I tell you?”

I heard more than a simple preference. “How about why you’d
really
prefer not to work for Chad?”

She hesitated. “Okay. Because I think Chad has wanted Joe’s job for a long time. Chad’s doesn’t pay that well, although I guess that doesn’t matter because he comes from money. His parents are loaded, and they give him everything he wants. His salary is pocket change. You should see his apartment, his car…”

“Then why would he want a harder job?”

“Prestige. And the work might be harder, but a lot of it is public relations. He’s good at charming people. It’s second nature. What women haven’t already gone to bed with him might flock to his door.”

“Ouch. That sounds personal.”

“Don’t look at me. I’ve had the chance but not the inclination.”

“Cilla, why should wanting Joe’s job, which sounds pretty natural, make Chad a bad boss in the future?”

“I would always wonder if he helped the process along.”

“You mean you think Chad might have something to do with Joe’s disappearance?”

With every sentence she sounded more disgruntled. “No, but he might have slipped a word or two to Hazel or other board members about problems here. And knowing him, he would do it in such a sneaky way they didn’t even realize what he’d done.”

“
What
problems?”

“I really don’t know anything specific. I could even see Chad making stuff up, dropping hints to make Joe look bad.”

“But you’ve never seen or heard him do that or heard Joe complain?”

She gave a single shake of her head. “I just know that in his personal life, Chad’s a loser. He’s a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy, only by the time he leaves, the women are glad to see him go.”

Now Cilla’s tone bordered on bitter. I wondered if this was more personal than she had admitted. Or maybe she really was just being protective of Joe. But I could tell this subject had come to a close.

I wanted to get into Joe’s office in the worst way. If he paid his bills here, as I guessed, he would pay them from his own computer and desk. Everything and anything personal would be filed there.

“I guess that’s Joe’s office?” I nodded toward the closed door.

“When he’s here that door is always open. Joe has nothing to hide.”

“Have you looked through his files? To try to find anything that might help us figure out where he’s gone?”

“Then I’d be as bad as Hazel Kefauver. I keep that door locked and nobody gets inside.”

I was tempted to ask Cilla to give me access, but as much as she wanted Joe to come home, she hadn’t been as helpful as I hoped. She had appointed herself Joe’s guard dog, and nobody was going to mess with Joe on her watch, including me. He would return and find everything exactly the way he had left it.