Marjorie Thelen - Designer Detective

“No.

“Want to meet somewhere and talk?

“How about the Taverna restaurant on Washington Boulevard in Westover Village? What time?”

“In half an hour.”

Jake was sitting at a window in the restaurant. October dusk had set in. Perpetual little white lights strung around the top of the walls and wound around the fichus trees made the Taverna twinkle like a fairyland. Everyone looks better in soft lighting.

“I'll have the tabbouleh,” I said. “And a glass of red wine.”

“I'll have the steak and Lebanese salad. Just coffee.”

“No wine this evening?” I asked Jake.

“I'm on the wagon.”

“I should be, too, but I so love the taste of alcohol.” I smiled happily when the waiter set a goblet of wine before me.

“I did, too, until it got away from me. But that's another story. What did you think of Opal?”

“I loved her immediately. What a smile that woman has.”

“She's something, isn't she?”

“Yes, I was impressed. We worked all the details out for the library redo. I'll arrange for the work crew this weekend. By the way, she said it wasn't me that did Albert in.”

Jake laughed. “She is something else.”

“Here's a clue for you. Did you know that Albert had a lady friend?”

“Yes. I'm working that one.”

I was a little disappointed that wasn't breaking news. “Okay, how about this. The hedge around the fountain off the solarium is clipped in the shapes of hearts, clubs, diamonds, and spades.”

Jake tucked his face into his neck in disbelief. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Don't you think that’s unusual? I mean, how many houses have a hedge of card suits?”

He shrugged like he didn't care. “I don't see a fit.”

“It might be a clue. Did Albert’s wife play cards?”

“Don't know.”

I thought this was an important clue, but Jake apparently didn't. I changed tactics. “Did you notice there's no security on the front door?”

“Yes, there is.”

“No. Someone turned it off because every time I've let myself in the front door, I didn’t have to push any buttons to disarm the security. Albert mentioned nothing to me about it when I met with him.”

Jake rubbed his chin. “I never go in that way.”

“Which way do you enter?”

“Through the back entrance.”

“I wonder why I was given the front door key.”

He shrugged. “I'll take a look. Thanks for the tip.”

“See, I’m helpful.”

He laughed.

“Who do you think did it?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. Opal's convinced someone gave him the overdose, that it wasn't self-administered.”

I told him what Opal said about Albert being very precise about his medication.

He nodded. “Right. Someone very precise wouldn't accidentally overdose in normal circumstances.”

“The key words are normal circumstances.”

“Right.”

“Did Opal say who she suspects?”

He shook his head. “No one specific, but she's convinced it’s family. Problem is there's so many of them, and they are all over the globe.”

“What do you mean there are so many of them? I thought there were no children. And there's only Opal, the sister.”

“Opal and Albert had eight brothers and sisters, and she is the only one left. But there are lots of nieces and nephews. Mrs. Lodge's brother in South Africa is still alive and has three children, plus the grandchildren. There's a sister in England who has a child. I'm doing background on all the nieces and nephews.”

“But, wait, couldn't you narrow it down to the ones who live around here? After all, they'd have to know Albert pretty well to know about his blood pressure medication and what would kill him and when to do it.”

“Here's the thing. They always had relatives visiting. Mrs. Lodge loved to have people around. She was a lot younger than Albert and had the money to entertain.”

“And Opal made her money in ranching?”

“She married a wealthy rancher. No children. There's money at stake and not all of the family is wealthy. There'll be the usual money scramble now that Albert and Olivia are both dead. The question is who gets the money.”

“What does the will say?”

“I don't know. Opal’s meeting with the lawyer on Tuesday.”

“Opal doesn't look like a rancher's wife somehow.”

“She is. Has a real pretty spread in Harney Valley, Oregon. God's country out there. That's where I met her.”

Jake and Opal had God’s country in common. There was an interesting twist.

The food arrived and I savored the tabbouleh. I considered another glass of wine and decided not to get too wild and crazy this early in the evening.

“Are there any relatives in McLean?” I asked.

“There is a married niece living in Arlington. She has one daughter. She was a frequent visitor after Mrs. Lodge died. She looked in on Albert to make sure he was okay though Hudson took very good care of Albert.”

“So the niece is suspect. Is Hudson a suspect?”

“Everyone is until I determine who had the motive.”

“I'm still on the list.”

“Pretty far down. Motive is weak.”

“That’s comforting.”

At that point, my cell phone vibrated. I looked at the caller ID. My romance writer friend, Olympia. I remembered we had made plans to go to a movie this evening. I checked my watch. We had decided on the late show of the latest Viggo Mortensen movie. My favorite fantasy man.

I finished my wine, arranged my knife and fork on my plate, and smiled over at Jake. “I've got to be going. I've got a date tonight.” Of course, I wasn't going to tell him it was with a woman friend.

“Okay,” he said. He didn’t seem at all disappointed.

“But let me ask again. Who do you think did it?”

Jake puckered up his lips and thought. “I suspect Albert took an overdose.”

“What?”

“I don't think he was as happy as Opal seems to think. But I got to follow all the angles first.”

“But why?”

“Albert was still working, granted in a Washington think tank. Don't you think a man of his wealth would've retired by now?”

“What's that got to do with anything? Maybe he worked because he liked to work and didn't have any hobbies. And some people get off on power.”

“I think he was in financial difficulty.”

I had to update Olympia on the case. She’s one of my oldest friends, and I could tell her anything. Like Kathy the waitress, she immediately had me romantically linked to Jake Manyhorses. Olympia was a bestselling writer of romances. Need I say more?

The coming attractions exploded across the movie screen. We talked in whispers, which disturbed the solitary man in front of us with the bent up baby Huey cap. He turned around and said, “Hey, if you broads don't shut up, I'm going to beat the snot out of you.”

Olympia leaned forward and stuck her face in his. “Just who do you think you are, mister? It's a free country and the movie isn't on yet. We have important business to discuss.”

“Hey, take your business somewheres else, lady. This is a movie house.”

He had a point.

“I never,” said Olympia and sat back. In a whisper close to my ear she said, “If Viggo Mortensen weren't in this movie, I'd leave now.”

I admired Olympia’s courage and thought to say something equally daring, but the guy was mean looking. “We'll be quiet,” I said to the back of his head. “We don't want to miss Viggo Mortensen.”

“Ha,” he said without turning around. “What a fairy.”

Olympia and I exchanged glances and watched the movie without a peep.

It was raining when we left the theater. At the movie's end the tough guy had hustled out of the theater before the credits were over, lucky for us. We decided to visit the coffee house next door to the theater. It was crowded with late night theatergoers.