Part 12 (1/2)

Uncle Isaac looked at each person sitting around the table: Hilda, Sonia, Crusher, and me. ”You're all in this blanket mitzvah together?”

The four of us nodded.

”Well, I'm so relieved. I don't feel so guilty now.”

What did my uncle mean? ”Guilty about what?”

He grabbed my hand and squeezed. ”Well, faigele. I know my Martha pretty well. You were acting pretty s.h.i.+fty tonight, so I thought maybe you were up to something crazy again. You know, like the murder you were involved in four months ago. Thank goodness I was wrong.”

Crusher cleared his throat and looked at his plate. Sonia took a sip of water, and Hilda found something interesting to stare at across the room.

Uncle Isaac narrowed his eyes. ”I was wrong, wasn't I?”

”Don't be silly, Uncle. You've got nothing to worry about.”

CHAPTER 21.

Morty came by after his date to pick up Uncle Isaac. With her bedroll still in the dryer, Hilda spent the night in the guest room.

She helped wash the breakfast dishes while I made her a sandwich-to-go from the leftover brisket and challah. The sack carrying her clean clothes was now fatter with several pieces of Quincy's old wardrobe. Her clean bedroll was a little brighter with a pretty red-and-yellow tied Windmill quilt; she asked to keep the rose soap.

”Thanks for everything, Wonder Woman. I enjoyed sleeping in a real bed again. That quilt reminds me of one my grandma made that I loved so much. Maybe one day you'll show me how to make one just like it.”

”I'd love to. Seriously.” I thought about asking Lucy and Birdie to include Hilda in our weekly group. If there was anything a quilter loved, it was teaching someone new how to quilt.

”Your uncle's such a sweet old man.” Hilda briefly touched my arm. ”You're cut from the same cloth.” She laughed. ”Get it? It's a quilter joke.”

I chuckled. ”I get it. And you're right. He's special.”

I handed her a piece of paper with my phone number. ”Keep this. Call me anytime, for any reason. If you decide you want to get off the streets, I'll do everything I can to help.” Then I drove her back to Rafi's place to retrieve her cart.

I arrived at Ed Pappas's house in just enough time for the ten o'clock meeting with his attorney, Simon Aiken, and Ed's other biker friends. Ed's wood-and-chrome dining-room table sat to the right, loaded with refreshments. I poured myself some Starbucks coffee from the disposable carton, but I pa.s.sed on the apple fritters from Western Donuts.

People were lounging in Ed's living room to the left, sprawled on his brown leather sofa and matching easy chairs. I sat in one of the empty chrome chairs from the dining room. We had all agreed to meet this morning for a progress report, and I couldn't wait to tell everyone what I found out from the groundskeeper.

Simon Aiken wore jeans, like everyone else, on this Sat.u.r.day morning. A new diamond stud sparkled on his earlobe.

Dana Fremont sat next to him on the sofa. Her long brown hair hung in two thick braids and her size-four skinny-legged jeans hugged ankles as slender as my wrists. A big new diamond sparkled on her finger.

Aiken reached over and briefly caressed her forearm.

Ah! Dana doesn't just work for Aiken; they're a couple. Have they recently exchanged diamond engagement rings?

Crusher wore a brown bandana on his head this morning. His six-foot-six, three-hundred-pound frame completely filled one of the large leather easy chairs. He stood to offer me the chair. He might've been a golem, but he was a golem with manners and ”hidden depths,” as he hinted last night. I declined his offer and stayed seated in the smaller chair, where my feet could touch the floor.

Carl, the young biker who helped save Beavers's wounded dog, waved; a smile creased his handsome face.

Ed Pappas, whose legal defense was the topic of this meeting, sat in the other easy chair, studying his laptop. Ed wore his uniform: a blue-and-white striped tank top showing off his tattoo of the Greek flag, cargo shorts, and a three-day growth of light brown beard.

Aiken cleared his throat. ”Okay, everyone's here, so let's get started. I'll go first. I talked to the DA, and she's convinced she can make a case against Ed based on his threat against Dax Martin and the b.l.o.o.d.y baseball bat found in Ed's backyard. Although he hasn't been arrested and formally charged with the murder yet, we need to be prepared for when she comes after him. She hinted it was only a matter of time.”

Ed's face paled; the skin around his eyes tightened and his mouth formed a hard line. My pulse quickened at the bad news.

Aiken looked at me. ”Martha, I hear you talked to the groundskeeper yesterday. Could he tell you anything about the witnesses Javier and Graciela?”

”He wants to remain anonymous. He'll lose his job if the school ever finds out he talked to me. Anyway, he knows nothing about the homeless couple, but he did give me a juicy bit of info. He confirmed Dax Martin carried on an affair with the headmaster's wife, Diane Davis, in the stadium office there.” I pointed through Ed's sliding gla.s.s doors and beyond to the maroon-and-gold building looming like a permanent insult sixty feet away. Dana typed quickly on her iPad.

”He also said he heard Martin and his wife arguing a week before he was killed. Martin's angry wife informed him she told Jefferson Davis about the affair with Diane.”

Aiken nodded. ”That would give Davis a motive to kill Martin. That's more ammunition to help us establish reasonable doubt in court. Good work, Martha.”

”Thanks. There's also been a new development since our last meeting.” I told them about the plan to go down in the wildlife reserve on Sunday and distribute quilts and supplies to the homeless. ”While we're down there, we'll look for Javier and Graciela.”

Dana looked at me and smiled. ”Nice idea. Will you be safe?”

Crusher sat forward in his seat. ”Now that Switch is gone, I hear things have changed for the better down there. I'm going to help Martha take the stuff in my truck. We need the Valley Eagles to ride in and keep the peace.” Valley Eagles was what these motorcycle buddies called their club-hence the big purple V E on the back of their jackets and vests.

”I'm loading the truck tomorrow morning at ten, at Martha's house. We'll caravan from there down Burbank Boulevard at around eleven.”

”I'm in,” said Carl and Ed at the same time.

Aiken cracked his knuckles. ”Yeah, Dana and I'll be there.” He turned to Ed. ”Anything new?”

”I went to the website for the Army Corps of Engineers. The chain of command is pretty short. Specialist Lawanda Price is the coordinator for the Sepulveda Basin. She's the one who actually comes to the area and physically supervises the properties for compliance and maintenance-including the parks, wildlife reserve, and ball fields.”

Crusher took a gulp of coffee. ”She's the one who approved the building of the stadium?”

Ed scratched his neck. ”No. I think that's way above her rank and pay grade. She's basically a low-level field grunt. A couple links up the chain is a civilian, Barbara Hardisty. She's the real estate a.s.sets manager and the one who has broad authority over all the federal real estate in California. This Hardisty woman is likely the one who approved the stadium.”

Aiken narrowed his eyes. ”Interesting.”

Ed s.h.i.+fted in his seat. ”There's more. I went fis.h.i.+ng around the Beaumont School website to see what I could find out about Martin, the stadium, the athletic program, anything really. I found a roster and photos posted of the students partic.i.p.ating in each sport. Guess which soph.o.m.ore is on the baseball team?”

Everyone looked at Ed.

”A boy named Jason Hardisty.”

Crusher stopped just before he bit into his second fritter. ”Any connection to the lady who approved the building of the school's baseball stadium?”

Ed shrugged. ”I don't know. Beaumont records are confidential. In order to get a list of students and their parents, I'd have to hack into their computer system or break into their offices.”

Aiken stretched his arm out like a traffic cop. ”Stop. I'm sure you're speaking hypothetically, right? You can't say things like that with other people in the room, even if you're kidding. Attorney-client privilege extends only to the two of us when we're alone. If you're arrested and we have to convince a jury you're innocent, we don't want anyone here forced to testify you said anything incriminating.”

Ed looked chagrined. ”Okay. Got it.”