Not a good thing, but the night was young.

There was only one other person I knew would be up and ready to chat at this hour. I speed dialed my friend Linda Reed, who would be answering from the on-call nurse’s nook at the Mary Todd Home, a high-end assisted-living facility.

“Gerry, it’s been ages since I saw you. I had to miss crafts night last Wednesday because they called me in to substitute for someone here, and it’s extra money, which you know I can’t turn down since Jason has so many activities coming up his sophomore year.”

I knew better than to interrupt Linda’s flow too soon. She was by far the best crafter in the group, eschewing kits of any kind. She had the patience I didn’t have. I’d been known to ruin a piece because I didn’t wait long enough for glue or paint or a coat of varnish to dry. Linda, on the other hand, adopted the strategy of Abraham Lincoln: “Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.”

Over the din of my own mind, I heard Linda still offering details of Jason’s classes that I didn’t need. Time to cut in. My mission was to find out how far and wide the news had spread in Lincoln Point, if there was talk of suspects, if she’d seen Rosie, or any other juicy bit Linda might know. With her years of experience at every medical facility in Lincoln Point, and her current position at the Mary Todd senior residence, Linda was an indispensable source of information and a font of gossip that nearly always proved to be true.

“I’m glad Jason is doing so well this summer, Linda,” I said. “I’m still here in San Francisco at the ALHS reunion, by the way. You probably heard about the great tragedy, David Bridges’s death. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Linda gasped. I pictured her eyes widening. “How did you know?” she asked.

“How did I know what?”

“Never mind,” she said, but the pause was too long and her voice too high-pitched.

“Linda.”

Linda was even more vulnerable than Skip was when it came to responding to my stern teacher voice. Only a few years younger than I was, she still afforded me a certain respect. I pictured her adjusting her beehive hairdo and nervously smoothing her uniform over her wide hips.

“That… that…”

“That what, Linda?”

I heard a deep exhale, then a whisper. “That Rosie Norman is here.”

Sometimes, when investigating, you get more than you bargained for. If it weren’t for Maddie sleeping peacefully upstairs, I’d have gone straight to the Duns Scotus garage and driven back to Lincoln Point.

Chapter 8

“Rosie Norman is at the Mary Todd?” I needed to hear it again to believe it.

Linda was a first-class resource, having intimate knowledge of everyone in Lincoln Point who needed medical care or had a relative who needed it. She was one of the least adventurous people I knew, however, and I never dreamed she’d harbor a fugitive.

“She’s technically not hiding from the law,” Linda said, as if I’d spoken out loud.

I felt I was hearing one of my own oft-given excuses to Skip, bending the truth, rationalizing, mentally reserving certain facts. Was I responsible for this personality change in Linda? Had I taught her the many uses of the word “technically”?

“The police need to talk to Rosie,” I said, lowering my voice as two young men in cargo pants entered the alcove and headed for the restroom.

“I didn’t know that. When she first came in, I had no idea why she was asking about our guest rooms. Her grandmother used to live here in the assisted living wing and we do offer that accommodation when relatives visit from a distance. Remember that time old Mr. Mooney’s niece from Kentucky came to see him?”

“Kentucky is almost across the country, Linda. Rosie lives on Joshua Speed Lane in Lincoln Point. It’s less than ten minutes to the Mary Todd. And her grandmother died two years ago.”

“Rosie was desperate, Gerry. She told me she had to get away for a while because things went bad with David at the reunion. I knew how much she was looking forward to seeing him again.” I heard a heavy sigh and pictured Linda’s plus-size body being taxed with the effort. “Then I heard David was murdered, and I didn’t know what to do. Technically-”

“Never mind technically. What else do you know about David’s death? I haven’t seen a South Bay paper or heard any news.”

“He was hit on the head with his own football trophy.” Though this wasn’t news to me, Linda’s words sent a shiver through my body. The nurse part of Linda took the facts further. “That external trauma would likely have caused his brain to strike his skull and ultimately rupture blood vessels. The intracranial pressure would block the flow of oxygen-”

“Okay, Linda. I’m not sure I need that much detail. I heard he was found in Joshua Speed Woods?”

“Yeah, one of the EMTs I know was in the crew that went to the scene. He said not to spread it around, but David’s lips-”

“Never mind, Linda. Will you please tell Rosie to call me on my cell?”

“I don’t know. She said not to tell anyone she was here. She won’t even call her father, and you know how close they are, like Frick and Frack.”

Linda was right about their being close, though I wasn’t clear on the reference to the comic ice skaters. Larry Esterman had raised Rosie, his only child, after her mother died.

I was about to bring out my commanding-officer voice but thought better of it. I didn’t want to precipitate Rosie’s leaving the Mary Todd, where she was at least safe, and force her to be “in the wind” as Skip called it.

“Fine, Linda. I’ll keep the secret.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you know when I’m back in town.”

I could hear a deep sigh of relief. “So otherwise, did you have a good time at the reunion?”

“It’s been a blast,” I said.

Finished with Linda for now, I walked back toward the front desk. I scoped out the late night staff and hung back until I could be served by a pimply young man who looked like a trainee. Chances were he was still under the influence of his mother or his teachers and I could exploit that.

I approached him and read his shiny new name badge. “Good evening, Aaron. I’d like to talk to a member of your maintenance staff,” I said. I aimed my tone somewhere between authoritative and nurturing. “His first name is Ben and he was working last night.”

Aaron’s skinny neck seemed to roll around in the collar of his dress shirt. I was sure he looked better in a tank top. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes, I’m Mrs. Porter, in charge of the Abraham Lincoln High School event”-here I coughed to muffle the little white lie-“and I’d like to speak to Ben, if you don’t mind.”

“We have lots of people on duty all the time. The Duns Scotus is proud to have a full staff twenty-four-seven for your convenience. There’s a carpenter, a locksmith, a plumber-”

Aaron looked over my shoulder as he recited the list. He might have been reading a teleprompter version of his employee orientation notes.

“The staff member I’d like to speak with is named Ben.” I came close to spelling it for him. “He came into the ballroom during our cocktail party last night. That would have been somewhere around seven fifteen. I need to talk to him.”

Aaron drew in his breath. “Ooh, that’s tricky. Kind of on the cusp of the shift change.” He straightened up, apparently remembering another part of the front desk employee handbook. “You know, you’re supposed to call from your room if there’s a problem with maintenance.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, sending what I hoped would be a subliminal message: don’t disappoint your mother figure. “Aaron,” I said. “My granddaughter is asleep in our room, and I don’t want to disturb her, which is why I came all the way down here in the first place.” I paused for another well-placed sigh. “Our group has more than one hundred guests in your hotel and I’d really like to get this off my list of things to do before I can call it a night.”