THREE

So what's eating you this morning?” Trula bustled into Mallory's office with a mug of coffee in one hand and a napkin wrapped around a freshly baked muffin in the other. With a slight hint of accusation, she added, “You didn't come for a second cup of coffee with Susanna and you didn't follow your nose to the kitchen for a muffin.”

Mallory forced a smile and reached out for the napkin and the mug. “You didn't have to do this, but I thank you.” She sniffed the muffin. “Ummm. You put pecans in these, didn't you?”

She turned the mug around to see which of Trula's pithy sayings she'd gotten that morning. The truth is rarely pure and never simple.

Amen to that.

“I did.” Trula took a seat without waiting to be offered one. “So… I'm waiting.”

“For?…” Mallory took a bite of muffin and smiled. “Delicious. You could package these and sell them and make big bucks, Trula.”

“Don't change the subject. You know what for.”

“You don't take no for an answer very often, do you.” It wasn't a question.

“Not if I can help it.”

Mallory sighed, resigned.

“I got a call this morning from one of the applicants for the investigator job.”

“So? That's what you wanted. That's why we went through that whole press conference thing and did the website. What's the problem? Is the applicant unqualified?”

“No. She appears to be as qualified as most, I guess. Some may be better, some may be not as. Her qualifications aren't the problem.”

“So?”

“So she's in Conroy and she wants an interview.”

“Again,” Trula sighed, “I say, so?”

“So she was a cop in California. She applied online the day the application was posted, quit her job, packed it all up, drove east, and is counting on us hiring her.”

“Do I have to repeat myself a fourth time?”

“So who does that?” Mallory frowned. “Who quits their job and drives across the country, demands an interview for a job she may not get?”

“Asked or demanded?”

“Asked. But I had the feeling if I'd said no, she'd have begged until I said I'd see her.”

“When is she coming in?”

“This afternoon. I told her I could see her around two.”

“Doesn't give you much time to check her references.”

“I already did that. Actually, I do a preliminary check of the ones who look qualified as soon as I get the app. If I know up front that someone isn't going to be a contender, that's one less interview I have to arrange.”

“Did she check out?”

Robert wandered in and took the chair next to Trula's.

“Did who check out?” he asked.

Mallory filled him in on the conversation thus far.

“So did she?” Trula repeated.

“She did. Actually, her former boss gave her a glowing reference.” Mallory took a sip of coffee. “It was as if she couldn't say enough about her. I can't explain why, but it just sounded… I don't know, too pat or something.”

“Why's that?” asked Susanna, who'd been listening at the doorway.

“You're chief of police in a town not far from the Mexican border. One of your best officers quits the force with no notice-I mean, how much notice could she have given? The application just went online two weeks ago, and this woman is already here after having driven from California. And yet you still give her the highest possible recommendation? You never mention the fact that she left you high and dry and a man short?” Mallory shook her head. “Something about that just isn't sitting right with me.”

“So maybe after you talk to her, you'll have an idea why.” Robert stood and stretched. “I trust your instincts, Mal. It's up to you whether or not to hire her.”

“Well, I'd sure like to have an opportunity to interview some of the competition.”

“There isn't going to be a whole lot of time to deliberate. If it looks like she can't cut it, cross her off the list and go on to the next one. We're going to need staff pronto.”

“We're going to need the right staff,” Mallory reminded him. “You want the best person for the job, not just any investigator.”

“True enough. But you can't tell me that in that entire bunch of applicants you can't find someone who fits the bill who can start really soon. We set the first of the month as our deadline to kick off that first case, and the first is closing in on us very quickly,” he pointed out. “Kevin will be here late this afternoon and we'll be deciding which case gets the privilege of being number one.”

“I have it down to three,” Mallory told him. “The write-ups are on your desk.” She turned to Susanna. “Yours, too.”

“I already read through them. Interesting. A little something there for everyone,” Susanna remarked.

“How many submissions did we get?” Robert asked.

“Six hundred and twelve,” Mallory told him.

“How did you cut them down to three?”

“Wasn't easy.”

“I should go take a look.” Robert stood. “Did Kevin get copies, Mal?”

“I faxed them to the church office this morning.”

“Well, then, I'll leave this other thing-the possibly overzealous applicant-in your hands,” Robert said as he left the room.

Mallory turned to Susanna, who shrugged and said, “Like Robert said, it's up to you. But we will need to hire someone soon. Over six hundred submissions in two weeks? Craziness.” She followed Robert out the door.

Mallory turned to Trula.

“Don't look at me. I'm just the cook.”

“My ass.”

Smiling, Trula stood and picked up the crumpled napkin and the empty mug.

“Lunch is in thirty minutes.”

Emme stopped in front of the ornate iron gates that shut off Robert Magellan's estate from the rest of the world. She put the car in park and stared at the guard who was walking toward her.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asked.

“Is this Robert Magellan's?…”

He nodded.

“I have an appointment with Mallory Russo.”

“Ms. Caldwell?”

It took a split second for her to realize he was addressing her. “Yes.”

“You're expected.” He smiled and returned to the small booth he'd been sitting in. “Go on through and follow the drive to the circle on the right. You can leave your car there. Someone will meet you at the door.”

“Thanks.”

More curious than ever, she drove through the opening gates.

“Mommy, is this a castle?” Chloe asked from the backseat. “Are we going to see a prince?”

“Sort of,” Emme mumbled and followed the guard's instructions to the front door.

“Who lives here, Mommy?”

“A very wealthy man who puts his money to good use to help people who have problems.”

“I have problems,” Chloe told her. “I don't have a school.”

“Not that kind of problem, sweetie.”

“What kind?”

“He helps to find people who are lost.”

“Do you think he could help me find Bobo?” One of Chloe's favorite stuffed animals had been inadvertently left behind when her mother had grabbed a few cherished items from Chloe's room.

“I think he only looks for people.”

“Bobo was people,” she heard Chloe whisper.

When they reached the circle, Emme parked and got out, and couldn't help but stare at the Tudor mansion that seemed to go on forever.

“I bet a princess lives here too.” Chloe unbuckled her seat belt and eagerly jumped from the car without waiting for assistance. “Will I get to see her?”

“There's no princess, sweetie,” her mother said as she took her hand. Together they started toward the front door.

It opened almost immediately. A woman of indeterminable age stood at the threshold. She was dressed in a denim skirt that had faded from too many washings, a blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, and a bright red apron dotted with spots of flour here and there. White tennis sneakers worn without socks were on her feet, her white hair was wrapped into a bun at the nape of her neck, and her glasses sat upon the very end of her nose.

“Come in, Emme Caldwell.” She gestured with one hand. Seeing Chloe, her eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. “And who might this be?”

“This is Chloe, my daughter.” Emme's words began to pour out in a rush. “I'm sorry, I know it's highly unusual to bring a child to an interview like this but we just arrived in town last night and I couldn't leave her in the hotel. I probably should have mentioned it when I spoke with Ms. Russo. I promise she won't be a bother to anyone. She's very well behaved. She has a coloring book and her crayons and she can sit on the floor outside the office while I meet with Ms. Russo.”

“Nonsense.” The woman shut the door behind them. “Chloe can give me a hand in the kitchen. Do you like to bake, Chloe?”

“I baked cookies one time for Mr. Pendergast. He lived next door to us and he had his…” Chloe frowned and tugged on her mother's hand. “What did the doctor take out of his stomach?”

“His appendix.” Emme stood in the vast entry and fought the urge to gape at the paintings that lined the walls. They all looked authentic.

“That.” Chloe stared up at the woman in the apron. “What's your name?”

“Trula.”

“Like truly, only not?”

“Exactly.” The woman smiled at Emme. “Mallory knows you're here. Her office is the third door down this hall on the left. Chloe and I will be in the kitchen when you're finished. Don't feel the need to rush. Cookies take time.”

Emme prayed that Chloe would remember the conversation they'd had several nights ago-and every night since-about their new last name. Convincing Chloe that her name was now Caldwell, not Nolan, and that her mother's first name was now Emme, not Ann, had not been as much as a trial as she'd feared.

“Why, Mommy? Did my name change because I moved?” she'd asked the night before.

“No. It's because…” Emme had tried to come up with something plausible. “It's sort of like a game, sweetie.”

Even to Emme, that sounded beyond lame.

“That's a silly game.”

“I know.” Emme sighed, trying to come up with something better. How to explain to a child that it was a matter of life and death?

“Do you like the way it sounds better?” Chloe had asked, saving her.

“I do.”

“I do, too.” Chloe had begun to sing, ad nauseam, “Chloe Caldwell, Chloe Caldwell, Chloe Caldwell…”

Nice of her to have bailed her mother out on that one. Emme still didn't know what reason she'd have ended up giving for the change, but was grateful not to have had to go that route.

She cleared her throat and smoothed the lapels of the white shirt she'd ironed in the hotel room just an hour ago. With some trepidation she watched Chloe disappear into the kitchen with the older woman-the cook? the housekeeper?-and wondered at the wisdom of permitting Chloe to go off into this huge house with a total stranger, however benign and grandmotherly she might have appeared. Surely it would be okay, she told herself. Would Robert Magellan have someone of questionable character working in his home?

The kitchen door closed with a whoosh that was audible even at this distance. She was half-tempted to follow, just to make sure, when a tall, good-looking man with dark hair stepped into the hall from a door at the very end.

“Oh.” He seemed surprised to see her. He glanced at his watch. “Two o'clock. You're here for Mallory.”

He took several steps forward and rapped on a closed door before pushing it open.

“Mal, your appointment is here.”

“Thank you.” Emme had expected to be nervous-she generally wasn't nervous by nature-but suddenly the import of where she was and what she was doing hit her. She started down the hall in his direction. “You're Mr. Magellan, aren't you?”

“Robert.” He nodded, then as an afterthought, extended his hand. “It's Robert. You must be… ah…”

“Emme Caldwell.”

“Yes. Right.” He gestured in the direction of the office. “Mallory?”

“Yes. I'm here.” A pretty blond woman appeared in the doorway. “Come in, Emme.”

The woman stood aside for Emme to enter, then turned to Robert and asked, “Did you want to sit in?”

“No, no.” He appeared horrified at the thought. “Your job. Your decision. It's in your hands.”

“Right. I'll see you later then.” Mallory closed the door behind her. “I am Mallory Russo, by the way. We spoke on the phone.”

“Yes. I should apologize for the short notice.”

Mallory pointed to a chair and Emme sat.

“I have to admit I was surprised to hear you were in Conroy,” Mallory said as she seated herself behind her desk. “I haven't had time to finish reviewing all of the applicants and as you can imagine, we need to vet-”

“I do understand,” Emme told her. “I've been thinking about moving east for some time now, but when I saw your press conference and then went to your website, I thought the foundation was worth looking into. You said you were looking for good investigators, I was looking to make a move in this direction and I was going to need a job. I figured, why wait?”

Emme smiled as if there was no need to state the obvious.

“We're looking for the best in the business.”

“I believe I qualify. If you check with my former chief of police-”

“I already did that,” Mallory cut her off. “She gave you the highest recommendation. But you understand, we have hundreds of applicants for this position.”

“I was under the impression that there were a number of positions open. Mr. Magellan's press conference seemed to imply that he was looking for more than one investigator.” Was Mallory always this cool, this businesslike to everyone, or has she simply taken an immediate dislike to me? Emme wondered. “And that he was very eager to take on that first case.”

“That he is,” Mallory conceded. “But Robert has never worked in law enforcement, and he might not be the best person to judge an applicant's qualifications.”

“Then by all means, let's talk about mine.” Emme settled back, her elbows resting casually on the arms of the chair, and put on her most confident air.

For the next hour, they discussed Emme's training, number of years with the Silver Hills force-seven-and her previous work experience. Mallory appeared to be impressed that Emme had started with the police department as a records clerk right out of high school while taking courses at the local community college. From there, she'd gone on to the police academy, and last year had been sent for special training at the FBI Academy. They talked about the number of cases she'd taken lead on, percentage of cases solved, the number and type of professional courses she'd taken since graduating from the police academy.

“How many homicides have you worked on?” Mallory asked.

“I'd have to go year to year to count them up. I'd say we had roughly a dozen of what I'd consider routine homicides over the past twelve months. That includes domestics, killings that occurred while committing other crimes, hit and runs, and so forth. And then we have the situation where, Silver Hills being very close to the Mexican border, we have significant drug traffic, with the accompanying thugs sliding back and forth between the two countries. It's not unusual to find bodies in the desert or in the mountains right outside of town. The state does pitch in on those, however.”

“How many of those ‘routine’ homicides have you taken lead on?”

Emme paused, debating. It was bad enough she was lying about who she was. She knew Steffie would back anything she said, but if she got the job, she wanted it to be on the merits of her own performance.

“I haven't been lead, per se, on any of them,” she answered truthfully. “The detectives take lead on homicides in our department.”

“How close do you think you were to making detective, Ms. Caldwell?” Mallory glanced down at her notes.

“I guess you'd have to ask Chief Jenkins that.”

“Actually, I did. She said you'd have been given strong consideration for the first available opening…”

Thank you, Steffie.

“… but that she didn't anticipate having any openings for at least another five, possibly ten years.” Mallory leaned her forearms on her desk. “She added that you possessed exceptional investigative skills and if she had any reason to think there'd be one sooner, she'd have done whatever she could to have talked you out of this move.”

“That was very kind of her.” Emme smiled.

“She spoke very highly of you.” Mallory put down the paper she'd been scanning and looked Emme directly in the eye. “Very highly.”

“I appreciate that. What else can I tell you about myself to convince you to hire me?”

“You can tell me why you pulled up stakes to move from California to Pennsylvania just like that.” Mallory snapped her fingers.

“I told you on the phone, I saw the press conference. I'd been looking for months to make a move; it just seemed like the right thing to do.” Emme fought to keep her nerves from making her voice sound shaky. Was it her imagination, or was Mallory suspicious of her motives? Better make it good, she cautioned herself, sensing that her future employment-or lack thereof-could depend on what she said at this moment.

“I mentioned there was a lot of drug trafficking in Silver Hills. Over the past year, there have been several shootings in town involving rival gangs. I have a daughter who is four, Ms. Russo. Her father was Mexican, her mother African American. She is just starting to become aware of the animosity, the name-calling between the two factions. I'd like her to grow up in a different atmosphere, to learn to respect her heritage on both sides.”

“I see.” Mallory nodded slowly. “She's adopted?”

“Was it the red hair, the green eyes, the pale skin, or the ‘map of Ireland’ on my face that gave it away?” Her hair wasn't so much red anymore as auburn and she couldn't be certain of an Irish heritage, but everyone seemed to comment on it, so she supposed there might be something to it.

“We can go with all of the above.” Mallory smiled with some warmth for the first time since she'd sat down. “I can understand wanting to raise your daughter in a different environment. But why Conroy?”

“Truthfully, when I looked it up on the computer, using Magellan Express, of course”-Mallory laughed-“I saw a town that looked like a place I wish I'd grown up in. I couldn't fill the application out fast enough. And once I did, once I'd hit send, I just felt as if… I don't know, I don't want to sound silly, but I just felt as if this was where we were meant to be.”

“I see.” Mallory played with her pen. “Since you watched the press conference and you went to the website, I'm assuming you read more than the application?”

Emme nodded.

“Then you know that we're going to be taking on some pretty complicated cases, cases that have grown cold because the investigating departments weren't able to solve them. So we're talking about the tough cases, the ones where we will be looking for information that others have overlooked. We'll need instincts that are spot on-not every time, maybe, no one's right one hundred percent of the time, but you're going to have to have a strong track record. We'll need the best skills, the ability to think outside the box. For much of the time, you'll be working alone, because until we get up to snuff with hiring-and that isn't going to happen overnight-there won't be anyone to partner with you.”

“I don't mind working alone.”

Mallory patted a stack of fat files that towered on one side of her desk.

“These are the submissions we've received in the past week, requests for help from over six hundred people. I expect that will increase as time goes on.” She picked up one folder and opened it in front of her. “Here's a case where a woman has been missing for nine years.”

Mallory held up a second folder. “This next one, a young boy who went missing when he was seven.”

Another. “This one? A father of five who left home one morning for work and was never seen or heard from again.”

Mallory met Emme's eyes across the desk. “These are the kinds of cases you'd be dealing with.”

She slid a stack of files across the desk to Emme.

“Pick one at random,” Mallory told her, “and tell me how you'd handle it.”

Ninety minutes later, they were still discussing the case, Mallory making notes without comment. They were both so engrossed that neither looked up when the door opened and Susanna walked in.

“Mal, I-Oh. Sorry.” Susanna paused in midstride. “I didn't realize you were still-”

“It's okay, Suse, come in and meet Emme Caldwell.” Mallory looked up from her notes. “We're just doing some hypothetical case analysis.”

Emme turned as the tall dark-haired woman came toward her.

“Good to meet you,” Susanna said as Emme took her outstretched hand. “If I'm not mistaken, you're our first interviewee.”

“She is.” Mallory nodded.

“I apologize for interrupting, but there is the most incredible aroma wafting from the kitchen, and I had to follow my nose to see what Trula was up to,” Susanna explained. “I was thinking it might be a good time to take a break but I see you're still busy…”

“Actually, I think we're done here.” Mallory pushed her chair back and rose. “Not because Trula is baking, mind you,” she made a point of telling Emme, “but because I think I have enough information for the time being.”

“Are there any other questions about my experience I might answer?” Emme asked, concerned by Mallory's sudden dismissal.

“No, I think I have what I need. I have the entire personnel file from Silver Hill, and that has your transcripts and your performance reviews. Thanks for coming in. It was a pleasure to have met you.” Mallory walked around the desk to shake Emme's hand.

“So, what happens next?” Emme tried not to appear less than self-confident.

“You'll hear from me once a decision has been made.”

“I see.” Emme leaned down to pick up her bag, which she'd dropped on the floor when she first took her seat. “Let me give you the number at the hotel and our room number.”

“Don't you have a cell phone?” Mallory asked.

“I did. I lost it somewhere between Indiana and Pennsylvania.” On purpose, because cell phones can be traced. She'd pick up another throwaway as soon as possible. She'd used most of her prepaid minutes talking to Steffie and the rest of them when she called Mallory. “You don't realize how much you depend on those things until you don't have one. I'll be getting a replacement.”

“Well, if we bring you on, we'll give you one. Of course, you might want to have your own before then.”

“Yes. Well, then. I suppose we're finished. Thank you so much for seeing me on short notice. I hope it wasn't an imposition, Ms. Russo.”

“Not at all. I'm glad you came in.” Mallory walked to the door and stood there like a sentinel.

“How would I find Trula?” Emme asked.

“You've already met Trula?”

“She met us at the door when I arrived, and took Chloe-my daughter-to the kitchen.” Emme felt a bit of color tinge her cheeks. “I'm sorry, I didn't have anyone to watch her and I couldn't leave her alone in the hotel. I thought I'd leave her in the hall with some of her things to amuse her.” Emme held up the bag. “Crayons, coloring book. But Trula met us at the door and sort of swooped up Chloe…”

“No need to apologize,” Mallory told her. “Trula's swooped up all of us at one time or another. I'm sure she was delighted to have Chloe's company.”

“Ahhh, then we have you to thank for what I'm sure must be a wonderful afternoon snack.” Susanna grinned. “Well, come along with me, Ms. Caldwell, and we'll track down that child of yours and see just what she and Trula managed to cook up in the time you've been here.”

Susanna ushered Emme into the hall, then looked over her shoulder. “Coming, Mallory?”

“I'll be down in a while. Save me some of whatever it is.”

“No promises,” Susanna called back over her shoulder. To Emme, she said, “I suppose you think we're all very loose around here.”

Before Emme could reply, Susanna went on. “Well, I guess we are, in a way. I think that's what happens when your offices are in someone's home.”

“Is Trula the cook?”

“The cook, the housekeeper, and all around slave driver. Trula was a very dear friend of Robert's grandmother. She's sort of a family legacy. She'd lived with old Mrs. Magellan, and came to live with Robert when his gran died.” Susanna lowered her voice conspiratorially. “She runs the house, watches over Robert and Kevin like a hawk. Kevin is Father Burch, Robert's cousin. Trula loves them both as she'd love her own, if she had her own. Which she doesn't. Actually, she doesn't have any family at all, except for the two of them.”

“It's nice of Mr. Magellan to let her stay here,” Emme said.

“Ha!” Susanna snorted. “As if he had a choice. He went to close up his grandmother's house after she died and came back with Trula.”

“Still, it's nice of him.”

“I'm kidding. Of course it's nice of him, but he adores her. They squabble and pick at each other, but they love each other fiercely.” Susanna held up a hand to push open the kitchen door. “All of which is probably too much information for someone who has just had her first interview.

“So let's see what we've got going on in the kitchen.” Susanna gave the door a shove and called, “Trula, what deliciousness are you cooking up in here?”

Загрузка...