Margaret Grace - Murder In Miniature

“You’re really asking, did I kill him, right?”

I wasn’t that dumb. There was only one answer. “No, of course not. I was hoping to get a lead on who did.”

“You a cop?”

Ask your friend, Mike. He asked me the same question, I wanted to say. Instead I smiled as politely as anyone in a state of quiet hysteria could.

“Not exactly. But my nephew is a cop. He’s expecting me any minute.”

Ben laughed, before I got to “He’ll send out the fleet if I don’t show up.” A lame survival technique. “Yeah, right,” he said, possibly not even believing the first part of what might be my dying declaration. His laugh wasn’t as evil as I had imagined it would be. I settled down a bit, though my jaw was no less tight and my hands grasped the steering wheel as if I’d applied tacky glue to both.

“Look, Ben. Right now, one of my close friends is the only suspect in David Bridges’s murder. I’m grasping at straws, trying to figure out who really killed him. I thought you might be able to direct me to someone who had a motive. Maybe another one of his employees.”

“We weren’t that close.”

“What about his personal life? I know he’s divorced and estranged from his son.”

Ben shook his head. “Don’t waste your time on them. Debbie has moved on. She’s married to a Hollywood pool boy and could care less what Bridges does anymore. And him and Kevin-they’re not estranged.” He stumbled over the word, as if it were as unfamiliar to him as what a ticket cost to the annual fall miniatures show in San Jose. “Kevin took his mother’s maiden name, Malden, and lives in Carmel in some artists’ colony. Bridges could never get over that the kid didn’t want to play football like his old man, so he pretends the kid is estranged but they still kept in touch from a distance.” A little more trippingly that time.

“I thought you weren’t close.”

I immediately wanted to retract that flip remark, but Ben seemed to let it slide. “Look, I’m in your face for one reason. To let you know that you’d be better off going back to your dollhouses.”

I swallowed hard. How did he know my hobby? What else did he know about me and, especially, Maddie? The last thing I wanted was for the conversation, such as it was, to take a turn to the personal.

I cleared my throat. “I’m just curious, Ben. Didn’t I hear you tell David that you could”-I drew quotation marks in the hot, still air between us-“burn him.”

“I was blowing smoke. He didn’t give me a big enough raise and I was mad at him.”

My first, unspoken, response was what Ben himself had just said: “Yeah, right.”

“Is there anything to the rumor”-I made up one on the spot-“that your boss was involved in some kind of preferential treatment for certain contractors?”

“Who told you that?” Ben asked.

“It’s public knowledge that the awards for all the recent projects at the Duns Scotus, like remodeling and equipment upgrades, have gone to Mellace Construction here in Lincoln Point. It’s either a coincidence or something shady is going on.”

“Shady, I like that. But I wouldn’t know anything about it.”

Between the miserable weather and the barely abating fear I experienced from having Ben Dobson in my car, I was ready to give up. Maybe my recollection of the incident between David and Ben was exaggerated, made into something it wasn’t, out of a desire to lay blame for the murder on anyone but Rosie.

I took a breath, amazingly calm and sure I wasn’t in danger from Ben. Not at the moment anyway. “Can you tell me one thing? What were you doing in the woods just now?”

Ben got out of the car, closed the door, and leaned in. He gave me a wicked smile. “You’re too much of a lady for me to tell you.”

I couldn’t help smiling back, though I didn’t believe him for a minute.

I wasn’t ready to face Skip or Rosie. Thanks to very poor decisions today, I was hot, bothered, and hungry. A quick side trip to Sadie’s would take only ten minutes if it wasn’t too crowded. I’d get a chocolate malt to go and imbibe while I drove to the police station. So far there was no California law against eating while driving.

My parking spot facing the woods was right behind Sadie’s. I got out of my car and left it unlocked, the windows down. There was nothing worth stealing and it would be much better than coming back to an even hotter car.

I wished I had time to get the car washed, inside and out, to erase the presence of Ben Dobson. Though I hadn’t been as afraid of him at the end of the exchange as at the abrupt beginning, I still had an uneasy feeling. Maddie would have called the whole meeting creepy.

With long legs and the image of a chocolate malt spurring me on, I reached Sadie’s in less than five minutes and joined a short line. I fished my wallet out of my purse, licked my dry lips, and waited, feeling guilty that I wasn’t already on my way down Springfield Boulevard toward Rosie.

My turn at last. “The usual, Gerry?” Colleen asked.

“Yes, but I’m on a very tight schedule today.”

Most days I enjoyed chatting with Colleen, Sadie’s lovely Irish daughter-in-law, especially about her graduate school classes in political science. Today, she caught on quickly to my pressing need and prepared my malt in record time. I couldn’t wait to take that first long sip of the thick chocolaty liquid.

“Hi, Mrs. Porter,” a girl’s voice said. “We just saw you. Where’s Maddie? Isn’t she out of class by now?” I turned around and nearly tripped over Taylor. I followed her pointing finger to a table in the back where Henry sat with a sundae in front of him. “Come back and eat with us.”

Not again. This would be my third strike today if this were a game with Henry Baker. I went back and forth about how I’d spend the next hour. Did Rosie really need me? She hadn’t called, so maybe everything had been resolved without me. Didn’t I deserve a little ice cream break with friends? But what if Rosie was in custody?

My better self won. “I’d love to,” I told Taylor. “But I really can’t right now. I have a very important errand to do.”

Taylor’s face fell. Her pout was a lot like Maddie’s-therefore, nearly irresistible. “Just till you finish your shake?”

I hoped she caught the sadness in my sigh. “There’s someone waiting for me. In fact that’s why I don’t have Maddie with me.” I laughed and gave her a playful poke in the shoulder. “Do you think Maddie would ever let me come here without her if I weren’t on my way to a very serious meeting?”

Her face brightened. She got it. “I guess not. Maybe we’ll see you later.”

“For sure,” I said.

I caught Henry’s eye and waved. He gave me a thin smile and waved back, then put his head down and turned his attention to a pile of whipped cream.

I left the shop, still without a sip of malt. I felt I owed Henry an explanation, though I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if I’d broken a date. Maybe because I wished I’d get a chance to.

I recovered quickly from my stress over Henry, and by the time I reached my car, half the shake was gone.

I placed the rest of my lunch in the cup holder, but only after one more long drag on the straw. I threw my purse on the passenger seat over my jacket and prepared to start the engine. After the fact, I noticed something under my jacket. The sound my purse made indicated it fell on something other than soft cloth. I looked over and saw a manila folder under the jacket, so flat it seemed empty. The folder certainly wasn’t mine. Had Ben left it? By mistake? On purpose? No, I was sure I would have seen it, one way or the other, if he’d had it. Besides, Ben and I had already shared so much (a big wink here), he wouldn’t have delivered this in secret.