In Their Blood (9 page)

“I’d like that very much.

“I’m sure Rachel would have liked Jeremy following in her footsteps,” said Enrique.

Just then Irving Luria sidled up to his office, glancing off the hallway wall with his shoulder. Had he been drinking or did he just have poor balance?

“Morning, Irv,” Bud said.

Irv grunted. His seersucker suit and bow tie looked as though he’d slept in them. Jeremy remembered Irv from when he was a child. Irv used to laugh a lot then. A booming laugh that would carry across the room.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you up so early, Irv,” Enrique said. “And I see how fortunate I’ve been. You’re quite the bear.”

“Nice to see everyone else so bright eyed and bushy tailed.” Irv was about to slam his office door behind him.

“Irv,” Bud said, “one second. Jeremy’s here to help you with that project of yours.”

Irv looked at Jeremy like he was a cockroach crawling into his Scotch.

“Whenever he finishes up with you,” Bud was saying, “we’ll send him out to Castillo Enterprises.”

Irv scowled at Bud. Or maybe it was just a permanent expression— anger cast in stone. Then he closed his office door.

“Well, on to your first assignment, my boy.” Bud patted Jeremy on the back. “Irv’s bark is worse than his bite.”

Enrique shook Jeremy’s hand. “Come to dinner. Any time. You and Elise are always welcome.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Enrique gave a little smile. “You look good without the beard, Jeremy. I wonder if I should shave my own.”

Bud laughed. “Don’t you dare, Enrique. Your beard defines you. The last of the redoubtable Castillos.”

“Not the last, Bud. Don’t forget Carlos.” And the two men disappeared into Bud’s office.

Jeremy knocked on Irv’s door, then when he didn’t hear any response, knocked again. He knocked one more time, then opened the door. The room was dark: the blinds drawn and the lights off. Jeremy could make out Irv sitting behind his desk, putting something into one of the drawers, then slamming it shut.

“May I come in?” Jeremy asked.

“You’re a little late asking. Seems you’re already in.”

Jeremy stood awkwardly near the door. Irv didn’t invite him to sit down.

Years ago, Irv had been a much different person. He was gruff then, sure, but there’d been amusement in the bluish eyes that were now clouded by disinterest. He had always been an ugly man, reminding Jeremy of a gnome with his hunched back and oversized head. He probably would have scared Jeremy, except for the playful way his mother interacted with him. Jeremy couldn’t help thinking of Beauty and the Beast.

“What are you doing here?” Irv’s voice was jarring.

“I understand you have a project for me.”

“I don’t mean that. What are you doing working here?”

“Didn’t Mr. McNally tell you?”

“Sure. He fed me a line of bullshit that you’ve decided to become a responsible adult now that you have guardianship obligations. I want to know why you’re really here.”

Jeremy was glad the room was dark so Irv couldn’t see the blood rush to his face.

“Never mind.” Irv pushed his chair back, then rose as though the process was painful. “But let me tell you something. If you’re on some misguided quest, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Jeremy, his new laptop tucked under his arm, followed Irv to an area two levels below the main offices, on the eleventh floor. Irv hadn’t talked on the way. Now he unlocked a door and flicked on the switch. Like battle-weary soldiers, the overhead fluorescent light fixtures responded slowly with quivering, uncertain brightness. They were in a huge file room extending back maybe half the length of the building. There were hundreds of tall gray file cabinets and steel shelving units and papers everywhere. Despite its vastness, the room smelled close.

“This is the old file room,” Irv said. “We haven’t used it in years. Some of our partners were sentimental about parting with their
client workpapers. Now those partners are retired or dead and we need the space for all the new staff people we’ve been hiring.” He nodded his head toward a stack of unassembled cartons. “Box ’em up.”

“All of them?” Jeremy said.

“Yeah. And make a detailed list of everything.” Irv turned to leave.

“But this could take weeks,” Jeremy said.

“At least that,” the partner said and closed the door behind him.

Jeremy removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie. He couldn’t help wondering if this was supposed to be a test. Like Hercules being assigned to cleaning out the horse manure in the Augean stables.

He sorted through thick binders of dusty working papers, entering their contents into his new laptop, and then sticking them into the cartons he’d assembled himself. The edges of some of the covers were razor sharp and Jeremy stopped from time to time to suck the sting out of a paper cut.

Each binder contained hours of work by a PCM auditor, whose name and initials were clearly indicated on the cover. There were tests the auditors had done, their assessments, and their conclusions. Jeremy couldn’t believe the firm was just getting around to disposing of this stuff.

The sorting and boxing was mindless, menial work. It was also frustrating, giving Jeremy no opportunity to mix with any of the other staff. If he couldn’t talk to people, how was he going to find out anything about his mother?

His mind wandered back to the woman he’d seen leaving his mother’s office. She may have had a legitimate reason for being in there, but then, why had she acted so oddly?

By the late afternoon, he was relieved when he heard the door to the file room open and slam shut. Even Irv would be welcome. But it was Gladys who popped her gray head around the cabinets,
sniffing the air like a hunting dog. “I’ll bet a person could get cancer inhaling these mites and spores.”

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that, Gladys. If I do get sick, then I’ll sue PCM.”

She seemed to think that was funny and sat down on a filled carton. “Just like your mother. Such a kidder.” She wore thick stockings with her rubber-soled shoes. Support stockings, Jeremy’s grandmother used to call them. Gladys held something out for him. “I noticed you skipped lunch. Trying to get a gold star?”

Jeremy tore the wrapper off a granola bar filled with chocolate chips. He took a big bite. “Thanks, Gladys.” She was right about him being hungry, but how did she know he hadn’t left for lunch?

“I don’t know what Irv’s thinking.” Gladys shook her head as she peered down the aisle. “He was going to get the archive company to box the files, then when he heard you were coming, he changed his mind.” She reached into the pocket of her full skirt and took out two more granola bars. One she handed to Jeremy, the other she opened for herself. “He’s become impossible lately.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

She stopped chewing and frowned at him.

He backpedaled. “I was just wondering if I’ve done something to offend him. I don’t imagine this is the most glamorous job in the firm.”

Gladys relaxed. “Irv’s a crotchety old man. Not that he’s so old— not even sixty-three. But he’s angry at the world and that ages a person.” She stood up from the carton. Jeremy was surprised by the ease with which she moved. She was several years older than Irv, but except for the deep wrinkles on her face and hands, one would never know it. “And he was so different a few years ago. Such an inspiration.”

“What changed him?”

“What happens to people whose lives revolve around their
work? If they don’t have a little love, a few interests, they become narrow and bitter. Maybe they even start drinking a little more than is good for them. Because they know once they can’t work anymore, they’ll have nothing.”

Gladys handed Jeremy a third granola bar. How many more did she have hidden away in her pockets? “It’s almost five,” she said. “Why don’t you call it a day?”

He surveyed the endless file cabinets.

“Come on.” She patted the crumbs off her skirt and stood up. “It’ll all be here tomorrow.”

And he was pretty sure she was right about that.

Chapter 11

Jeremy didn’t have class until six thirty. He sat in his mother’s Lexus in PCM’s parking garage, trying to decide what to do for the next hour. Cars were backing out of parking spaces all around him. The five o’clock rush. It was hot in the Lexus. He turned on the ignition to let the air circulate, then took out Judy Lieber’s business card. This time, he dialed the number.

“Lieber,” she said, rushed or irritated.

“This is Jeremy Stroeb. Sorry to bother you.”

“Jeremy. I thought you’d left town.”

“No. I’m still here.”

“I see.”

“I was wondering if you have a few minutes to meet with me. I don’t have class until six thirty.”

“Class?”

“Yeah. At MIU.”

She hesitated for a second, then suggested a McDonald’s a few blocks from the campus.

It took Jeremy twenty minutes to get there. The restaurant was brightly lit and surprisingly clean. A party of eight or ten preschoolers were screeching around a clown making balloon animals while their mothers watched. Jeremy didn’t see Judy Lieber. The smell of fries made him realize how hungry he was despite the granola bars
Gladys had given him. He went to the counter and ordered a Big Mac, fries, and a coffee. He thought about Lieber. “Make that two coffees.”

He brought the food outside where the sound of the kids was replaced by that of heavy rush-hour traffic. There was an enclosed play area with a slide dropping off into a pool of brightly colored plastic balls. Jeremy bit into his hamburger. Chewy, prefabricated meat.

Lieber walked into the restaurant and looked around. Jeremy was relieved she hadn’t brought her partner along. She noticed Jeremy waving and came outside, giving him a quick nod as she sat down opposite him. She didn’t comment on the absence of his beard or his dress shirt, though she seemed to be taking everything in.

Jeremy handed her a cup of black coffee. “I ordered you this, but if you don’t want it, that’s fine.”

She cocked her head. “Thank you. That was nice of you, Jeremy.”

He pushed the packets of sugar and Sweet’N Low toward her.

“I don’t need any, thanks.” She removed the lid and took a sip.

A truck went by making a thunderous noise.

“My dad used to take me to this McDonald’s when I was a kid,” he said. “I remember when they put the play area in. I even had a birthday party here once.”

Lieber put her coffee down. “What’s up, Jeremy? You said you wanted to see me.”

“Right.” So she wasn’t interested in his reminiscences. He held out the French fries. “Want one?”

She shook her head.

“Well, you already know I’m taking classes at MIU,” he said. “I wanted to tell you, I also got a job at PCM— my mom’s firm.”

Jeremy was surprised by the lack of reaction on her part. Disappointed even. What had he been expecting her to say?
Very good, Jeremy. Your parents would be proud of you. I’m proud of you.

“I figured,” Jeremy said, “like we were talking the other day. It could be helpful to have someone on the inside.”

“Jesus. I hope you didn’t think I was encouraging you to be a mole.”

“Why not?” The restaurant door opened. Children rushed into the enclosed play area, shrieking. “It’s easy for me,” he continued. “I told the partners and registrar I wanted to work and go to school so that I can be a better guardian to Elise. No one suspects I have an ulterior motive.”

“How can they not suspect that? Working and studying in your murdered parents’ old stomping grounds?”

“I’m not planning on directly asking people if they know who killed my parents.”

“But think about it. The average person might not be tuned in to your game plan, but the killer would be hypersensitive to your sudden appearance. He’ll be watching you to see if you’re getting close. And when you do. Well, let me just say I’m not interested in investigating a third murder.”

So much for the pat on the back. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. I know how to handle myself.”

Lieber shook her head ever so slightly like his mother used to do when she disapproved of something Jeremy was doing but had decided to let him learn from his mistakes.

“I just want to find whoever did this to them,” Jeremy said.

A child let out a scream, then began to cry. His mother rushed forward and picked him up— the birthday boy, judging from his hat. “It isn’t fair,” the little boy sobbed.

“We all want to find whoever killed your parents, Jeremy,” Lieber said.

He watched the mother comforting the boy, smoothing his hair, kissing his pink cheek.

“You said you’re Elise’s guardian,” Lieber said. “I thought your uncle was.”

“Dwight was just named backup in case I didn’t want to do it.”

“How does he feel about that?”

“Not happy. I think moving to Lotus Island would have been good for his career.”

“I’m sure your sister is relieved you’re staying.”

He looked away from the play area. “Elise and I have been going through our parents’ papers, computer CDs, stuff like that. We figured since the murderer took the laptops, there may have been something important on one of them.”

“We looked for computer backups,” Lieber said, “but couldn’t find anything recent.”

“What about the key? If the murderer used a key, then it was most likely someone who knew my mom or dad. You said you checked the security guard’s records; did any of my parents’ colleagues come on the island that night?”

She shook her head.

“But you do realize it’s easy to get on and off the island avoiding both the security cameras and the guards? Joggers, bikers, someone in a small boat.”

“We’re very aware of that. It’s a problem.”

“And you’ve interviewed all the neighbors? Did anyone see anything unusual?”

She half-smiled. Her front teeth overlapped. “Still checking up to make sure I’m doing my job?”

“I don’t mean to sound like I’m second-guessing you.”

“Jeremy, I appreciate your efforts. But this is a murder investigation. Why don’t you concentrate on taking care of your sister and leave it to us to find your parents’ killer?”