Margaret Grace - Murder In Miniature

“So, you don’t think he killed David?” I whispered, though there was no one within earshot. The only people in the vicinity were three smokers who stood on the lower steps of the building in a tiny spot of shade that spilled over from a tree on the sidewalk.

“You said you have a couple of things to share with me?” Skip said, leaving me hanging as to whether Larry was considered a suspect by the LPPD.

Larry had dropped off my own private list. What killer marches over to confront another potential victim with an unloaded gun? Strangely, even before I knew the gun wasn’t loaded, I’d lost interest in Larry as a suspect-he seemed more like a desperate old man with the means and the motive, but not the will to do anything as horrible as commit murder.

I imagined Larry devising a con, much like the one perpetrated on his daughter thirty years ago-let Barry think he was about to be shot, then say something like, “April Fool,” and walk away. Too bad Barry didn’t appreciate the turnabout.

Now I was faced with a decision about talking to Skip without Maddie.

He’d called me; he’d asked me to share. I ran through my defense to my granddaughter, who’d be getting out of class in a half hour.

“I’ll be right up,” I said.

I reentered the building by the side door on the east end of the plaza, to avoid Rosie and/or her father. I expected to hear repercussions later.

On the way to Skip’s office, I called Beverly and asked if she could pick up Maddie at the Rutledge Center and bring her to the police station.

“Absolutely,” she said, with more gusto than usual. I knew she’d been feeling bad that she’d let me down by not showing up for late night atrium visits. I hadn’t had a chance to tell her that for two nights in a row she’d been replaced by murder suspects.

Skip was waiting for me at the head of the interior stairs and escorted me back to his cubicle.

“No cookies, I suppose,” he said. I shot him a “naughty boy” look. “We need to get this case over with so you can get back on schedule.” I knew he was aware that his grin would soften me.

“Your mom will be bringing Maddie by in about a half hour,” I said. “Your cousin once removed has some things she wants to tell you herself.”

“No problem. And I have a big surprise for her. Lavana is going to give her a special tour of the building. How’s that?”

“She’ll love it.”

“So, just tell me everything and I’ll act surprised later, okay?”

How could I do that to my granddaughter?

Easily, it turned out.

After Skip made a very brief trip to the cold-drink machine for both of us, I started my report on the interview with our Duns Scotus housekeeper, Marina. Maddie hadn’t been too involved in that aspect of my snooping, except to translate my overblown language into ordinary English.

“You just happened to stop by a hotel in San Francisco two days after you’d checked out?”

“We missed it. But, the point is, isn’t Cheryl’s story revealing?”

“It is.”

“And you’ll file it under ‘things that tend to clear Rosie Norman’?”

“I will. What else?”

I felt underappreciated. I’d uncovered the mystery of the anonymous caller who directed the police to the location of Rosie’s trashed scene. I expected more. But I wasn’t eleven years old, so I moved on.

“There’s the matter of the RFP material and contract awards.” I told Skip what Maddie had uncovered, how David had been granting Mellace an award on one day, and asking for competitive bids the day after. “You may not even need all this if Barry has spelled it all out for you.”

“Not true. We need something solid like this. Barry clammed up. My guess is that he thinks he can contain what he told you.”

I didn’t mention Cheryl’s visit to my house. I did produce the folded sheet Larry Esterman had marked up, however, and wished him luck putting the whole case together.

Not that we were any closer to determining who killed David Bridges. For that, I was hoping this evening with my crafters would settle the matter and we could put everything to rest by morning.

Maddie bounded into Skip’s cubicle, nearly knocking over the partition. Behind her was Beverly, and behind her their escort, Officer Lavana Rollins, taller even than Beverly.

Maddie gave me a suspicious look. “How long have you been here?”

Skip spared me and took over. “Your grandmother has done nothing but go on and on about the cool work you did on this case,” he said, waiting for the beaming smile that followed. “She wanted to wait but I browbeat her”-he held his fists up, boxer style-“until she cracked.” He threw punches into the air and did surprisingly fancy footwork in the cramped quarters. “Bam, bam. Bam, bam.”

Maddie laughed when the last “bam” landed on her nose. I doubted I’d have been able to smooth things over as easily.

More kudos to Maddie as Skip spelled out how because of her work, a judge might now allow them to dig even deeper into all the finances of the bad guys. “If you hadn’t noticed that your grandmother Googled Callahan and Savage”-he threw up his hands-“I don’t know where we’d be.”

Skip let Maddie explain how she kept digging into Callahan and Savage and then went on to a state business site and finally put everything together in order to construct the time line. She elaborated on how she quickly noticed the dates were off. Maddie’s story was somewhat embellished and quite creative in parts, but no one critiqued it out loud.

Her summary was brilliant: “I’m sure I could do even better next time if I knew a little more about how a police department works.”

“Let me think about it,” Skip said. He rose from the chair and snapped his fingers. “I’ve made my decision. Officer Rollins, would you be so kind as to take Ms. Porter on an insider’s tour of the building?”

Beverly and I stood by. I knew she was marveling as I was, at the performance of the two best negotiators in the family.

Officer Rollins saluted, for probably the first time since her induction.

“The jail, too,” Maddie said.

“The jail, too, Ms. Porter,” Lavana Rollins said, scaring me. “Of course, it’s illegal for anyone under eighteen to be within the confines of the jail, but you’re eighteen, right?”

Maddie screwed up her nose. “Not today,” she said.

I didn’t care whether Lavana was stretching the truth, or outright lying, for that matter, as long as Maddie saw nothing that might give her nightmares.

Back home, Maddie couldn’t stop talking about her tour. She told me about the fax machines, the meeting rooms, the records storage area, and the copiers. (ALHS had all of these, also, but I doubted she’d have been as impressed to see them in a school setting.)

Not available at ALHS were many other highlights, however. “Officer Lavana has the coolest job, Grandma. She works with judges and lawyers and dogs,” she said.

Officer Lavana had showed her the dispatch center with its enormous map of the city, the booking area, and the two kinds of interview rooms, one for suspects and one for witnesses.

I took it all in, nodding pleasantly and uttering words and syllables of interest-uh-huh, hmmm, oh-having resolved not to pass judgment. The last thing I wanted was for Maddie to choose a career just because it wasn’t what her grandmother had in mind for her.

“They took my picture,” she said, producing mug shots of her adorable face.

She showed me the set: one in profile and one face front, a placard around her neck. I doubted any criminal who’d been photographed by the LPPD had such a wide smile for the camera. The sign around her neck had LINCOLN POINT POLICE DEPARTMENT in caps, today’s date, and a long string of numbers, not unlike that of a Swiss bank account. I hoped the number on the card was a made-up one and wouldn’t be entered into the system by mistake.