Sue Grafton - V is for Vengeance

“I’m fine, thanks. I hope you don’t mind my calling you at home, but something’s come up. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Not at all. What’s happening?”

“I did something I shouldn’t have and now I don’t know how to make it right.”

“Wow, I’m all ears,” I said.

“You’re going to think I’m awful.”

“Would you just get on with it?”

“I will, but you won’t like it.”

“Vivian…”

“Friday morning, Rafe left on a fishing trip and he won’t be back until Sunday night.”

“I see.”

“I’m just telling you why he’s not here to help me sort this out. Yesterday when I went over to Audrey’s to meet the locksmith, a delivery truck pulled in. Someone overnighted a package to Audrey and the driver needed a signature. When I said she wasn’t there, he asked if I’d sign for it and I agreed.”

I said, “Ah.”

“I don’t know what got into me. It was one of those situations where an opportunity presented itself and I took advantage. Now I’m thinking what I did was wrong.”

“You know, I’m not exactly the person to consult when it comes to tricky ethical issues. I’d have done the same thing in your shoes.”

“But what am I supposed to do now? I feel so guilty. Rafe would have a fit if he knew.”

“It’s no big deal. Why don’t you call the company and tell them you made a mistake? Have them come pick up the package and return it to the sender.”

“I thought of that myself. The problem is I didn’t pay attention to the name of the courier so I have no idea who to call.”

“Isn’t there a label that gives the name?”

“Nothing,” she said.

“What about the locksmith? You think he’d remember?”

“He was changing the lock on the back door, so he didn’t see the truck.”

“Did you look in the yellow pages?”

“I did, but none of the names looked familiar. That’s the reason I called. I could open the package, but I didn’t want to do anything without talking to you first in case you wanted to be on hand.”

“Go ahead and open it. There’s no point in my driving up if it’s trivial. Are we talking about a box or a padded envelope?”

“A box, a big one, and sealed with so much packing tape it might as well be waterproof. Hold on a minute. I’m putting the phone down so I can tackle this. I can’t tell you how relieved I am you didn’t condemn what I did.”

“I’m happy to offer absolution if it makes you feel better,” I said.

I listened to a stretch of Vivian breathing and making remarks to herself, a running account of her progress, accompanied by the sound of paper tearing. “Okay, got the wrapping off. Oh, rats. The box is taped shut around the edges. Let me get a kitchen knife.”

A silence while she labored and then she said, “Oh.”

“‘Oh,’ meaning what?”

“I’ve never seen so much cash in my life.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I pushed the speed limit and an hour and a half later, I rang the bell and she opened the door, her face pale and drawn. She peered at the street behind me and hurried me in. She closed the door and leaned her back against it, saying, “Things just got worse.”

“What now?”

She moved to the living room windows and lowered the shades. “After we hung up, I assembled my embroidery supplies. I have my stitching group at three and my cousin is picking me up a few minutes before. I wanted to have everything ready.”

I made a rolling gesture with one hand, hoping she’d get to the point. “Next thing I knew, someone knocked on my door.”

“Why am I thinking Uh-oh ? Was this the courier?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t say so, but he implied he was. He said a package had been delivered erroneously and he’d come to pick it up.”

“Erroneously? He actually said that?”

“He did and it seemed like an odd choice of words. Aside from the fact he wasn’t wearing a uniform, I couldn’t see handing over all that cash to a man I’d never laid eyes on. It didn’t seem right.”

“So far, so good. I can’t wait to hear what you did.”

“I told him I didn’t have it. I said I notified the company a package was delivered to the wrong address and they picked it up half an hour before.”

“And he believed you?”

“I suppose. He didn’t seem happy, but there wasn’t much he could do.”

“Ah. So he didn’t know you’d opened it.”

“He might have. The box was sitting right there.”

I looked over at the dining room table, which was clearly visible from where I stood. She’d placed the lid upside down on the box to conceal the cash, but the wrapping paper was in plain sight. I crossed to the table and set the lid to one side. I stared at the money with the same admiration and disbelief she’d expressed on the phone. I nudged the brown paper wrapping, turning it over with the kitchen knife she’d used to cut the tape. The return address was a post office box in Santa Monica. I copied the number into my notebook and returned to a study of the cash. “How much do you think we’re looking at?”

“No telling, but I don’t think we should touch anything.”

“Hey, I’m with you. I don’t want my fingerprints showing up on this thing. Bad enough you handled the package before we knew what it was.”

The box was roughly twelve by twelve by twelve, packed with bundles of bills, the uppermost of which were hundreds.

Vivian said, “What do you think we should do?”

“Turn it over to the police.”

“And say what? Isn’t it against the law to intercept someone else’s mail?”

“Good point. It’s federal. I’ve done it lots of times but never netted anything like this. On the other hand, anyone who claimed the cash would have some serious explaining to do.”

“What about me? I can’t claim I just happened to come across it on Audrey’s porch, because the driver knows I signed for it and he put it in my hands.”

“You’ll just have to level with them.”

“ I will? Why not you?”

“Look at the logic here. Audrey’s dead. You’re her landlady, so it’s not out of line for you to pick up her mail, especially when you know she was charged with a crime. Isn’t that why you took the package in the first place?”

“Sort of. It was an impulse-a bad one, as I’d be the first to admit.”

“You did them a service. The police can use the return address to trace the package back to its origin.”

“This is making me nervous. I still don’t see why you can’t take care of it.”

“Nope. Don’t think so,” I said.

I was already picturing myself showing up in Cheney Phillips’s office with the contraband cash, which was most assuredly connected to Audrey’s shoplifting, which meant that Len Priddy would be apprised of it, which meant I’d be subject to the scrutiny of a man who didn’t like me to begin with. At the same time, withholding evidence of this magnitude probably constituted a crime far worse than mail tampering.

“What other options do we have?” she asked.

“Beats the hell out of me,” I said. “Situations like this, it’s better to do what’s right and take the heat. I’m not going to haul the money home and hide it under my bed.”

“I don’t suppose you could handle it without bringing my name into it. I don’t want Rafe to find out.”

“Sorry.”

“Well, shit,” she said, which seemed so out of character I laughed.

We took my car since Rafe had taken theirs. The only compromise I could think of was to deliver the cash to the San Luis Obispo County Sheriff’s Department instead of the city police. This had certain built-in advantages. The sheriff’s department and the Santa Teresa Police Department were separate jurisdictions. With luck, it would take time for one law-enforcement agency to communicate with the other. I didn’t think there was any rivalry between the two, but there was probably a pecking order and the usual bureaucratic bullshit standing in the way. The longer it took for Len Priddy to get wind of the cash, the happier I’d be.