"Perfect. We're going to make a great team. I'm so pleased at how professional you already seem to be. I especially liked that you answered the phone saying 'This is she.' Shows that you know your grammar. Let me know so I can schedule a lunch at a very expensive restaurant and a meeting with my staff."
Mel felt obligated to attend Dennis Roth's funeral. Aside from Denny's parents and an elderly aunt and uncle, he was the only other mourner present. It was a short service and a short drive to the old cemetery. Mrs. Roth was stoic throughout both the funeral service and the burial. It fell to Mr. Roth to introduce Mel to the aunt and uncle.
As they all headed toward their cars, Mrs. Roth said, "Detective VanDyne, your people missed something."
"What do you mean?" he asked politely.
She handed him a small blue cardboard envelope with a snap on it. He knew right away what it was. A safety-deposit box key.
"Where was this?" he asked.
"In a pocket you failed to notice in his billfold. We want to know what bank it's in, but you have better resources and staff to find that out. Frankly, we don't want to spend days calling banks."
Mel tried to hide his fury. This was, indeed, a huge mistake. He'd find out who had gone through Denny's belongings and packed them up — and tear a strip off whoever it was. "Let me write down the box number on the key. I'll get back to you as fast as I can. I'm making this my first priority. I'll know what bank it's at and let you know before the day is out."
Back at his office, he assigned four people to divvy up the names of every bank in the city, gave them the safety-deposit box number, and told them to personally call on every bank on their list and report back when they found the right one, which better be today.
Then he went about finding out which officer had inventoried and boxed up Denny's belongings. He noticed that the billfold was listed. Ten dollars and twenty-seven cents in it. Two credit cards. Two call tags from a tailor, one coupon for a fast-food restaurant and another for fifty cents off on a local dry cleaner. A California driver's license, a picture of his parents with him as a teenager.
A checkbook was also mentioned. Mel went down to where the four officers he'd assigned the chore of finding the bank were convening. He told them to continue but not to start out until he determined where the,checkbook was from.
He called the officer who'd boxed Denny'sthings and told him to come directly to his office immediately.
The officer who'd signed the inventory was there in minutes, looking terrified. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Yes, I do. You missed something very important in boxing up Dennis Roth's belongings. Who else was observing you doing this?"
"Another officer, Robert Wilson, who wrote down everything, and the manager of the apartment. Both signed the inventory. What did we miss, if you don't mind telling me, sir?"
"A blue cardboard envelope in a pocket of his billfold. A safety-deposit box key was in it, and there was also a checkbook. You didn't write down what bank the checkbook was from."
"But I remember, sir. I'm sorry I messed up. The bank was the one closest to the college." He gave Mel the name of the bank.
Mel indicated that the officer stay where he was seated, and went down to the workroom where the four officers were still sorting through banks by zip code for efficiency's sake. "One of you start with the bank closest to the college, would you? It might save a lot of hunting."
He went back to his office, where the officer who'd botched the inventory was pacing nervously. "You'll stay here until we know if the safety-deposit box is in the same bank. And you'll do a much better, more thorough job the next
time, won't you? You did search all the pockets of his clothing, I see. If it's the wrong bank, you'll join the other four officers still sorting banks by zip code in room 4B."
Twenty-three
Jane called Mel at his office to tell him about choosing an agent.
He cut her off. "Janey, I'm waiting for an important call on this line. May I get back to you when I'm free?"
"Sure." Jane wasn't offended. She knew when he was this curt, something crucial was happening. Instead she called Shelley to tell her about the conversation with Annie Silverstone.
"You didn't ask what other authors she worked with?" Shelley asked.
"I'll find out eventually. I really liked how she explained her policies. I have Felicity's e-mail address. I'll tell her about this later. Annie wanted two hundred words about my background and interests to send along with the manuscript for Melody to show the marketing people. I need to write it up today."
"Your background is going to surprise them, I'll bet."
"There's another thing I forgot to tell you. Annie wants me to come to New York soon to meet her staff. Want to come with me? We could do some really good shopping and eating."
"That sounds wonderful." Shelley said. "We better set a date and I'll make the plane reservations. Paul has thousands of frequent-flier miles we can use to fly first-class both ways. Have you told Mel about this yet?"
"I tried, but he hung up on me. Something important is going on."
"Did he give you a hint?"
"No. And I didn't dare ask. Are your caterers ready for dealing with a mob? Is it a snack-supper-type thing?" Jane asked.
"No. More like cocktail party snacks. It's later than usual and the students will have time to feed themselves. Not that they aren't welcome to eat. I've ordered extra things that you and I like. Re-heatable, so we can bring any extras home."
"Do we need to dress up? I've been wearing jeans or jean skirts so far."
"I intend to be a little more dressy this evening," Shelley replied. "Just because of Evelyn Chance's extra guests who contributed to the college to fund this. Some of them might be businesspeople who know Paul."
Jane interpreted this to mean, at the least, trousers with a good blouse, and a jacket or a light sweater and even a bit of jewelry.
When they finished their talk, Jane went to her front hall closet, the staging area for her most recent dry cleaning. She was appalled at how many things were in there. She broke down and hauled them all upstairs, ripped off the flimsy plastic, and put them in her bedroom closet, pulling out a pair of good black slacks, a matching jacket, and a pink-and-white-striped shirt. Then she went to her jewelry case to rummage. There was a pinkish opal pin surrounded by silver filigree that needed polishing. And a matching ring. These would look good if they were clean, but she didn't want to waste time polishing them up. She'd just wear her best watch.
She went to the computer station she'd set up on a secondhand small desk that she'd actually refinished herself — almost competently. She wrote up her bio and figured out how to do a word count and was shocked to discover that the bio was 427 words long. There wasn't anything she wanted to cut. And it wasn't as witty and charming as she'd expected it to be. She didn't even save the file. She'd have to start over.
As she rose from the desk to pace around the bedroom while she mentally composed a better bio, she spotted Max, her black, white, and gray cat — the equal-opportunity shedder — washing his paws while reclining on her black trousers. At least he hadn't started to sharpen his claws on the fabric.
* * *
Mel called the Roths' hotel number and said, "I have a court order from a judge to open your son's safety-deposit box. I'm sorry it took me a while, but it was the only way to do it. Neither you nor your wife are signers on the box, so I have to use the document and key. Would you like to meet me at the bank around the corner from the college campus?"
This question flummoxed Harry Roth. He had to write the directions down to the last detail. "I suppose we should be there. I can't imagine what was so important to Denny to hide it away like this. But Aggie and I would like to know. And close out the box so we're not billed."