Thalia snorted. "Dimitri?"

"Yes."

"Of course it wasn't Dimitri. We all know him. He's done a lot to make our little neighborhood safer."

Why hadn't I asked about Dimitri before and saved myself some trouble? Once again, a surprise.

I said, "Could this be the coat the man you saw wore?" "Yes, but now, my dear, I see that this is a woman's coat. The person was far away and so tall, I suppose I thought . . ."

"A six-foot-tall model wearing three-inch heels and a hat with a crown might give that impression. Especially wearing a hat you might expect a man to wear."

"I should have realized. Men today don't wear hats like that, do they? Except for Rudy."

I hadn't asked Rudy the right questions. A woman in a hat? That might have done it. Even if I'd said "person," I could have saved myself some time and trouble. Now I had my information: Lorelei had been on Friesen Street the day Anabel died, although she hadn't gone to the construction site. Lorelei had read Anabel's note and gone down to stop the wedding to the unsuitable young man, Dimitri. Anabel had not wished to deal with her formidable mother at that moment, so she had dodged behind the fence in the construction site to avoid a confrontation. While there, she'd slipped on the muddy walkway in her unfamiliar high-heeled shoes. Lorelei must have realized this in some part of her disturbed brain. No wonder she was in such bad shape. Of course she wanted to believe someone had murdered her daughter. Who could blame her for that?

23.

When decluttering, hang on to these basic wardrobe foundations as long as they fit well and are in good condition: classic jeans, blazers, tees, white shirts, versatile cardigans, and pants in neutrals, black, tan, and navy blue.

Lorelei's predicament was not my only problem. I put in a call from my cell phone to Margaret to see if she'd been able to see Pepper today. I got her voice mail. The blessing and curse of our times. I couldn't concentrate on my business. I decided to knock off the rest of the hotels in the interim. I checked out two off I-87 and one near the south end of Woodbridge. No purple key cards in either case. Plus the staff of all three looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. It was tedious and it made me glad I hadn't chosen private detective as a job. I had the belated thought that perhaps a private eye would have called and asked.

Still, it was a positive action and it took my mind off waiting for Margaret to call me back, and kept me from wondering if I should get something in for dinner as Jack was bound to have worked up an appetite looking after Little Nick.

Most important, it kept me from dwelling on what Pepper had asked me to do, which was find Nick, and what I wanted to do, which was find out how Anabel had died.

I pulled over as my cell phone trilled. I was surprised to hear Thalia Waverman's sweet quavering voice on the line.

"I am sorry to bother you, but I was chatting with my friend who lives on Potter Street and I told her you were here asking questions. It's so nice to have a bit of news to share. At any rate, she mentioned something that she'd seen. I thought you might like to hear about it."

"Thank you, Thalia. What is it?"

"I'll put my friend on, will I? Turns out the police didn't come to her door, either," she said.

An even more quavery voice came on the line. "That's right," she warbled. "No sign of them. Asleep at the wheel my late husband would have said. This is Jane Cantley speaking. Thalia can't be allowed to think she's the only one who could ever come up with a scrap of news."

"I'm glad you're both on the job," I said with a smile in my voice.

"I certainly am. And I didn't see the person that Thalia described, but I wondered if the police officer wouldn't have seen everything."

"Which police officer?" I asked.

"Well, the one who went behind the fence, of course."

"Behind the fence at the site? You mean the first officer to respond? They didn't-"

"No, dear. I mean, the officer who was already there. He seemed to be meeting with someone that I couldn't see. It may have been your Anabel Beauchamp, but I don't think so. I had the sense of a large person. I didn't see the young woman because, naturally, the Friesen Street entrance isn't visible from my apartment. I could only see him entering."

"He must have been responding to a 911 call."

"Oh no, dear. I don't think so. It was ten minutes at least before there was the first hint of a siren."

"Thank you, Jane," I said. "May I have your telephone number if I need to call you again?"

"Oh, Thalia knows where to find me," she said as the line went dead. After that, I heard only the sound of things falling into place in my mind.

Margaret arrived at my place seconds after I did. She seemed to be missing her usual air of cool, detached competence.

The dogs leaped off the sofa and raced to the door doing their best Rottweiler imitation.

"I'm glad to see you, too, pampered little pets," Margaret said to them as she walked in. They were all over her. I was in their bad books because of the training regime and the fact I'd hardly been home that week.

Margaret said, to me this time, "Do you think that everyone in the world has lost their mind lately? The whole idea of the guardians for Little Nick has me creeped out. I hate the idea that he might need guardians, although we have to accept the idea that brain injuries can be very unstable. I lost a client not too long ago after what looked like a slight injury. And there's a chance Pepper might not make it." Margaret ditched her lawyer suit jacket and flopped on the sofa. Truffle and Sweet Marie jumped up to snuggle. They love women. Soft, cuddly, and nice smelling. And in this case, worried.

I said, "I refuse to believe that Pepper won't make it, and I don't believe that Nick is behind her injuries. I understand why she wouldn't want Little Nick raised by the same people who made her childhood miserable. Isn't it good to get these things taken care of legally before rather than have a court battle if it . . . not that it will come to that."

"But we'll have to have everything nailed down to make sure he's the guardian. Both sets of grandparents would have a stake. The right lawyer could make the case that Pepper's decision was flawed by her head injury."

I said, "But her own father was abusive. Surely that would . . . what do you mean 'he'? 'He' who?"

"Jack, of course."

"What? Jack? The buddy who doesn't wear winter clothes in the snow? The guy who has bike parts stored in his oven?"

"Well, to repeat, she does have a head injury. Like I said, I don't know that any decisions she makes under these circumstances would hold up in court anyway. But is Jack such a surprise?"

"He'd be great emotionally. But you know, not the most conventional of homes. Someone else would have to be in charge of snowsuits and baking cookies for school events."

"I hear you and I think we'd have better luck if it was Sally and Benjamin."

"Who already have four kids of their own?"

"Doesn't matter. Stable. Respectable. House full of toys. Yada, yada. Not my decision of course. Pepper wants your name as a guardian, too."

I squeaked, "Are you kidding me?"

"It is pretty weird. You have a hard enough time raising your dogs. Discipline is definitely an issue."

I hoped that wasn't a growl I heard from Sweet Marie. I said, "Margaret, what's going on? How can all these terrible things have happened to Pepper and Nick?"

"I have no idea."

"What does Frank say?"

"He has no idea, either, which is the main reason why I have no idea. You know cops, they clam up."

"What's the good of marrying one if you can't extract information from him? Have you never heard of pillow talk?"

"I hate to break it to you, but the police have cornered the market on investigating. You shouldn't make it one of your new business lines."

"But I have helped before."

"And you got hurt. Other people got hurt, too. Leave it to the pros."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Mainly because it makes sense. For a sensible girl like you, it shouldn't require explanation."

"Very cute. Of course, the police, that is to say, Pepper and Nick, are the ones in the messy situation."

"Well, whatever is behind it? You should steer clear. That's my advice as your lawyer and even more so as your friend. And don't bother sulking. I get enough of that from my parents. It rolls right off my back and trickles away."

"I'm not sulking," I said sulkily. I headed into the kitchen to get some treats for the dogs. Unfortunately, we were out of ice cream.

"Doesn't matter either way is my point."

"Where do you think Nick is hiding out? Ah, c'mon, Margaret, don't roll your eyes."

"Huh. I'm amazed that you can see that from the next room. You're very good, Charlotte."

"Okay, never mind Nick. Listen to this: Lorelei went to Friesen Street because she'd had a note from Anabel saying she was getting married. I am almost certain it was her. She was seen. I think that Anabel ducked behind the fence to avoid her mother and she was wearing girlie shoes and lost her footing."

Margaret stared. "That would be the most awful thing that a mother could ever deal with."

I nodded. "But there's another wrinkle. One of the women in the neighborhood says that a police officer was already behind the fence. And that he was meeting with someone else who entered on the Potter Street side."

"What?"

"There's more. The cops don't seem to have talked to any of the people who might have witnessed this. So since Nick was the first on the scene, that could mean-and I hate to say this-that he was there, that he saw Anabel fall in, but for some reason failed to help her or to phone it in in time."

"You think Nick killed her?"

"I can't believe that. But he could have mismanaged the whole thing. He might not have figured out how to save her or, being Nick, even that she needed saving. Living with that might explain why Nick has been acting so crazy lately. Pepper said he was afraid of something. Felt threatened. And if someone else knew he'd let Anabel die, they could be blackmailing him."

Margaret said, "Letting a girl drown? That's heavy stuff. Nick would be terrified of exposure. Losing his standing in the police."

"That's it. And in the end, maybe it all took a toll. Maybe it triggered some kind of psychotic break and that explains what happened to Pepper."

Margaret rubbed her forehead.

I added, "That's my thinking to date, but I could be wrong. It doesn't seem enough to account for his behavior. I wouldn't have thought Nick capable of any of this, but of course, it wouldn't be the first time I was wrong about a man. Maybe DeJong was right and he just snapped."

After Margaret left, I decided to check on Pepper in person before I tried to find Dean Oliver to get his spin on the whole tale. I needed to know that she was all right. And she needed to know that Little Nick was all right. I called Jack first. I also needed to know what he might like to eat when he got home and if he needed more baby food. "We'll be late. Business is booming," he said. "We had an excellent day. And we're good for dinner. Sally dropped off some jars of weird strained concoction for the little dude and people food for me. And I had that great chili for lunch. I think the dude can't wait to grow out of all that jarred grub and eat chili like a man. Anyway, don't worry about us getting dinner."

I called the hospital and once again, the nursing station staff was evasive. I fed the dogs, popped them out for a constitutional, promised them a nice long walk the next day, and tore off to Woodbridge General.

Pepper was not in her room. An unfamiliar police officer was guarding an empty space. He did not know where she was. The nurse in charge was unwilling to say where she was as I wasn't family. "I'm a lot closer than family," I protested, but it got me nowhere.

After an hour or so of frustration trying to find out where Pepper was, I was informed that visiting hours were over. The cop was still guarding the empty room, waiting for Pepper to return from wherever. Surgery? Tests? No one had told him, as he wasn't family, either. More to the point, he was told to stay put. I asked conversationally if Dean Oliver was on duty that night.

"Dean?" he said. "I think he's days this week."

I left and headed home. I called Sally from the parking lot and asked her if she could find out through Benjamin what had happened. Next I phoned Tierney and got, naturally, his voice mail. I mentioned I had something that might be a lead on Nick's whereabouts. Let him follow purple key cards all around town. See if people looked at him as if he had two heads. I added that I had an interesting tidbit from witnesses in the Friesen and Potter Street area, witnesses who had not ever been interviewed by the police, although far be it from me to criticize the pros. The voice mail cut me off before I said everything that was on my mind.

The day seemed to be a hundred hours long so far even though it was just after nine o'clock. It didn't help that the weather had changed from sunny and warm to hot and humid as evening arrived. I felt sticky and exhausted and imagined we were in for another muggy, rainy night. Luckily Hannaford's was open late. I swung by and grabbed some eggs, cheese, bacon, frozen entrees, and the makings for stir-fries, as well as take-out barbecue chicken and potato wedges. If Jack was going to play poppa, the least I could do was make sure he didn't starve. I picked up a premixed salad in case I turned over a new leaf. And some ice cream in case I didn't. Hannaford's was beautifully air-conditioned.

I ate half the potato wedges in the car on the way home. There are times when plates are overrated. I was pleased to see that Jack was already home when I got there. As I eased the Matrix into my driveway next to Jack's dung-colored Mini, my head was still whirling with thoughts of Pepper, Nick, Anabel, Lorelei, cops, and keys. I got out of the car, juggling my briefcase and my haul from Hannaford's. For some reason the front door was open and the lights were ablaze on both floors. A small black shadow dashed in front of me. My jaw dropped along with the bag containing the eggs.

What was that? The familiar shape headed for the backyard. Truffle! A similar one dashed in the opposite direction. Sweet Marie heading straight for the road! I dropped everything and dashed after her, shrieking, "Treat! Cheese! Cookies!"

Five minutes later, I held the quivering little brown dog and trotted back to find Truffle. My terror was matched by my fury. What was Jack thinking leaving the front door open? He must have left my apartment door open, too. Was this the responsible daddy behavior? Truffle turned up in the backyard, hiding under a bush. He inched out when I lured him with a potato wedge.

I would have stomped up the stairs, but as annoyed as I was with Jack, I didn't want to take a chance and wake up the baby, if by any chance he was asleep. Jack's apartment door was open, the lights on. I headed up to my own open door. I let the dogs down, but they huddled against my ankles, whimpering. "What's wrong with you two?" I said.

I nudged them through the door, shut it, and headed back to salvage what I could of my food, currently scattered on the ground. Back at the top of the stairs, I managed to open the door, trip over the dogs, close it, and get the bags into the kitchen. "Jack," I whispered in what I hoped was a compelling voice. "Where the hell are you? And what were you thinking letting my dogs out? They could have been killed."

No answer from Jack. Probably hiding under the bed, I decided.

Little Nick's gear was clearly in evidence, but he was not. I knew that Jack was quite capable of taking his new obsession for a moonlight walk so I didn't panic. I planned to let him have an earful when he stumbled in. My darling naughty dogs might have been flattened. I showed my affection by giving them quite a bit of stuff that falls under the category of Not For Dogs. I slumped on the sofa and they joined me, snuggling, glad to be rescued or at least glad to be given cheese. As I sat there, still pondering what was going on and hoping that I'd get a call from Tierney, I became conscious of an unfamiliar noise. A groan? I got up, annoying the dogs, and followed the sound. The pooches stuck close to me. The sound seemed to be coming from my large lovely linen closet. I hesitated and then told myself not to be silly. I grabbed the door handle and opened it.

I shrieked.

Jack was curled almost double on the floor. He moaned. I pulled at his arm frantically. He was obviously alive, with blood flowing from his head wound.

"Jack!"

He moaned again. His eyes stayed closed. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911. Mona answered. "No jokes, Mona. Jack Reilly is injured, my apartment, linen closet."

Mona Pringle, who seemed to live at her job, said, "What-?"

"Head wound. Like Pepper's."

"Oh my God!"

"Send an ambulance fast. And police."

"Will do. And you should-"

"Mona? Listen to me."

"I have to advise you to-"

"Forget the advice and listen. Jack was looking after Pepper Monahan's baby. The baby's vanished. Make sure the cops know that."