Drew, a former student, was next in line on my list of favorites to catch on duty when I needed a favor, after Lavana and all the other young women who were Skip’s groupies.

“Wait here,” I said to Larry and crossed the linoleum floor to the high front desk.

“Drew, nice to see you,” I said, with my best smile forward, reaching to shake the large man’s hand.

“Hey, Mrs. Porter. You, too.”

“I’ve been meaning to give you a recommendation for a book for little Davey. I know how he loves to read. If you have a pen and paper I’ll write it down for you.”

“Oh, terrific, Mrs. Porter. And he’s not so little anymore. He’s going on nine.”

“Almost as old as my granddaughter. As a matter of fact, it was Rosie Norman who put me onto this book because she knows I’m always on the lookout for good children’s literature.” I wrote the name and author of the book, addressing Drew at the same time. “I guess you know Mr. Esterman, Rosie’s father, over there waiting for his daughter.”

“Yeah, he’s been really patient, not like some other people nagging about how much longer, like, every ten minutes.”

I smiled. “He’s a nice man. Do you think you can reward his patience and check out what’s happening with Rosie? I know you’re swamped here, but-”

Drew waved his hand. “Aw, these forms can wait. Let me go back there for you.”

“Thanks, Drew.”

I gave Larry a thumbs-up as I walked back to my seat next to him.

“Quite impressive,” he said. “Now I know why Rosie called you first and me only second when you weren’t answering. Thank you so much. If you ever need a new refrigerator, just give a call.”

“Now that you mention it, Larry, I do need information on refrigerators.”

Larry sat up, interested, as most people were when you indicated an interest in their business or anything they’d invested a lot of time in. “Oh?”

“Henry Baker mentioned to me that you now work for Callahan and Savage.”

“Good old Henry. I don’t see much of him since he retired. How is he?”

I wished I knew. I gave Larry the short version of the friendship developing between Maddie and Taylor, and then moved on.

I dragged out a variation of the line I used with Barry. “I’ve been looking into a couple of things, and I heard something about questionable business dealings between David Bridges at the Duns Scotus and Mellace Construction. Is it true that they’re acing out your company, Callahan and Savage?”

Larry Esterman let out a small chuckle. “I guess my daughter was right. You are amazing, Geraldine. How in the world would you know that?”

“I… uh… I’m just really persistent, I suppose.”

“I should tell you, you’re not at the shallow end of the pool. You need to be careful.”

I was never very good at sports metaphors. In fact, this had not been a good week for figures of speech in general. “So it’s true?” was my careful response.

Larry bit his lip. I had a flash of memory of a younger Mr. Esterman next to my desk in my classroom at ALHS, his teenage daughter, Rosie, waiting in the hallway. Was I sure Rosie was working to her full potential? Could she do more to be sure she got into whatever college she wanted to? Was there a particular school I’d recommend for his motherless, talented child?

He sat next to me now, in a police waiting area, while his beloved Rosie was being interrogated by the police. It was his turn to answer some questions for me if he had any hope of helping his grown-up daughter. He seemed to realize this.

“I’m not as involved as I was when I had my own business, but I’ve been hearing rumblings about an internal investigation. You’re right-C and S is trying to find proof of unfair practices and bring a suit against Mellace and whoever is on the other end. You should know that it’s very, very hard to prove fraud. You need hard and fast testimonies, documents, an impeccable witness, or someone who’s willing to flip.”

I thought of the folder someone left on the seat of my car, the folder now thrust into my tote. “What kind of documents?”

“Bank records, internal memos, that kind of thing. But they play it close to the vest at Mellace. They have so many other businesses going all the way up past San Francisco to Marin County, and then down the other way to Monterey, that it’s easy for him to hide money.” Larry spread his hands, palms down. “I’m not saying that he does. I’m just glad I don’t have to worry about that part of it. That’s why I like semiretirement, strictly on a contract basis. I do my job when there is one and I don’t worry about the politics.”

Rosie was a lot like her father, with a mild temperament and a voice that exuded trustworthiness and honesty, though I sensed the older Esterman was a little more worldly-wise than his daughter. I wondered again how Rosie ever became obsessed with someone like David Bridges. He must have had some charm that I wasn’t privy to, to have captured her heart as well as Cheryl’s, though I didn’t have uncontestable evidence of the latter.

Drew emerged from a door behind the front desk. He met us halfway across the broad expanse of very old gray linoleum. “I rattled the cage back there and found out they’re just wrapping up the interview. Your daughter will be out in a couple of minutes, Mr. Esterman.”

“When you say she’ll ‘be out’ do you mean…?”

“She’ll be free to go,” Drew said, “but they’ll probably tell her she shouldn’t leave town.”

The sighs of relief from the two of us were audible.

I debated showing Larry the record I had in my tote. I wanted his opinion on whether the page left in my car would constitute the kind of proof he mentioned. He had enough on his mind with his daughter’s future as uncertain as it was, but if something on the mysterious sheet could help Rosie, by pointing to someone else with a strong motive to kill David, we’d all be better off in the long run.

Decision made. I pulled out the folder and showed him the page. “Larry, can you make any sense out of this?”

Larry changed his glasses and peered at the sheet. “Looks like a bank record all right.” He pointed to the row of numbers across the top. “This string tells me it’s an international account. I did a little overseas business in the old days and this is a familiar template.” He pointed to the numbers that had caught my eye the first time I looked at the sheet, the five-digit numbers that stood out in their column. “Are you thinking these large deposits are kickbacks of some kind?”

“I have no idea.”

“Whose statement is this?”

I smiled, embarrassed. “I have no idea.”

I was grateful he didn’t ask how I came by the information, sparing me a third, “I have no idea.” I hoped Skip would be equally indifferent to my source.

“I think I know-” Larry started, but we were happily interrupted.

Rosie rushed up and hugged her father. I waited for my hug, but it didn’t come.

“What’s the story, honey?” Larry asked.

“I’m not arrested, but I can’t leave town.”

“Was it Skip who interviewed you?” I asked.

Rosie frowned at me. She worked her jaw and took deep breaths, but remained silent. I got the hint that she was upset with me, but I didn’t know why. Because I kept my phone off during a memorial service?

“I think you should come and stay with me until all this blows over,” Larry told his daughter. He was already steering her toward the exit.

“No, Dad. I’ll be fine, and I really want to get back to my own bed. Can you just take me home?”

“Where’s your car?” I asked. “I can arrange to get it to your house.”

No answer.

I understood that Rosie wanted to cling to her father at that moment, but I had to clear the air. “Is something wrong?” I asked her, hoping she’d know I meant “between us?”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip. “Maybe later, Gerry.”

Larry shrugged his shoulders, but seemed equally eager to leave the police station. I couldn’t blame them.