Killer Market

10

« ^ » “The younger members of the firm have received all the advantages of education and careful scientific training which our modern times afford… and thus are fully able to take part in keeping the organization.”The Great Industries of the United States, 1872

As a uniformed officer escorted me out of the building, I met Dixie coming in.

She gave me a wan smile. ‘They found your bag?”

“Yeah.”

Her drawn features and the dark circles under her eyes let me know that she hadn’t caught a nap this morning. What I didn’t know was if she’d been told yet that Chan’s death was a homicide. “You okay?”

“Hanging in,” she said gamely.

“Court should adjourn by one-thirty,” I told her. “Want me to take Lynnette for a drive or something?”

She brightened. “Could you? That’d be great. Cheryl’s with her right now but she’s hyped for Market and there’s so much I need to do before Chan’s sister gets here.”

I suborned my escort to drive through Hardee’s before taking me on to my car. I tried to buy him a burger, too, but he swore he wasn’t hungry yet. Tasted like ambrosia to me though, and I had my daily dose of grease and red meat half-eaten before we pulled up beside my car, still parked where I’d left it.

No second ticket on the windshield either.

Licking ketchup off my fingers, I drove back to the courthouse, parked in a judge’s slot, and made it up to my courtroom where I reconvened Verlin vs. Jenner only eight minutes late.

Travis Tritt Verlin’s young parents sat almost exactly where I’d left them on opposite sides of the room, and each eyed me anxiously as I leafed through all the documents looking for answers that weren’t there.

I tried to focus on what was right for this toddler at this time and to keep my mind clear of preconceptions and outside influences.

When I finally came down on the side of the father, I truly do not think it was because I’d let myself be influenced by Dixie’s fierce love for her granddaughter and her despair at the thought of Lynnette leaving for Malaysia.

But how can we ever say for sure what tips the balance?

The tension went out of Mrs. Verlin’s shoulders, April Ann Jenner sat with tears spilling down her thin cheeks, and a big smile split Randy Verlin’s face.

Holding up my hand for silence, I forced him to look me straight in the eye and said sternly, “Even though I’m giving you custody of Travis, Mr. Verlin, that does not mean that I think Ms. Jenner is unfit or a bad mother.”

I gentled my voice as I spoke to that unhappy young woman. “Nothing that I’ve read in these documents, nor heard here today, has made me think that. We’ll set up a visitation schedule and if your situation changes radically or if Mr. Verlin moves out of his parents’ house, then you can come back to court and ask for a new judgment. I’ll put that in my written decision. But I think we all want what’s best for Travis, and right now, it’s my opinion that he can have a more secure and stable life in the Verlin household since his grandmother can care for him full-time.”

Now my eyes moved to the older woman. I told her that her fairness toward April Ann this morning had impressed me. “And I think you can be trusted not to try to turn your grandson against Ms. Jenner.”

“She’s his mother,” Mrs. Verlin said softly.

“Exactly,” I said and turned back to the parents of her only grandchild.

“What both of you need to remember is that the two of you are going to be Travis’s mother and father for the rest of your natural lives. For his sake, I urge you to try to get along. Don’t tear him apart and make him have to choose between you. If you can’t say something nice about each other, at least don’t say anything hurtful, okay?”

Both of them promised they wouldn’t and we worked out a schedule that gave Travis to April Ann every weekend. We also agreed on the amount of child support she would pay each month.

By the time I adjourned, she may not have been smiling, but at least she no longer wept.

Before I left the courthouse, I got through to my doctor’s assistant in Raleigh and explained how I hadn’t taken a penicillin tablet since around six the day before. “And your throat hasn’t bothered you in four days? Then she’ll probably say it’s okay to stop.”

I gave her Dixie’s office number and told her to leave a message there if it wasn’t okay.

Road workers with jackhammers and dump trucks were tearing up Johnson Street and I had to maneuver a maze of one-way streets in this older part of town before I finally found my way back to the cul-de-sac a half-block off Johnson.

No sign of Pell’s van nor of Dixie’s car nor even the California decorina’s bright red rental that had been parked on the street when I left this morning. Instead, I found Drew Patterson pacing up and down the walk. Last night she’d been soft and feminine in her loose hair and low-cut dancing dress, but today she was all business in a crisp black linen miniskirt and matching jacket over a soft white shirt. Her black patent leather shoes had Cuban heels and flat silver buckles, and her blonde hair was gathered off her face in a French braid.

“Hello again,” she said sadly, as I got out of my car.

Up close, I could see that her eyes were bloodshot beneath a light coat of mascara.

“Drew, I’m so sorry,” I said, taking her hand. “Are you okay? I guess you knew him for a long time.”

“Half my life.” Her blue eyes glazed with tears, but her chin came up as she reined in her emotions. “Ever since I was thirteen and he came to work for us. Before he married Evelyn. Before Lynnette was born.”

I made comforting noises and she tried to shrug.

“It’s not like we were lovers or anything—he always acted like I was thirteen and still in braces—but he was so much fun to play with. We were dancing together just last night and now he’s gone. Just like that! I can’t believe—”

She broke off and took a deep breath.

“Chan was okay when you last saw him, wasn’t he?” I asked as curiosity got the best of me.

Drew nodded. “He came back to our party and was schmoozing buyers just like always until Jacob Collier grabbed him and tried to pick a fight.”

“Did I meet Collier?” I wondered aloud.

“Probably not. You didn’t come back to our party after you left ALWA’s, did you?”

“No.”

“It got a little awkward for a minute there. But Jacob should have retired years ago. He’s seventy-eight, for Pete’s sake. And the Pinecroft account should’ve been converted years ago.”

“You’ve lost me,” I said.

“See, some accounts take a lot of hard work. There’s no loyalty or they’re extra fussy or you just can’t count on them to do the same amount of business with you each time. But some accounts are going to be with you forever. They’re comfortable, pleased with the new lines, predictable. You don’t have to stroke them. When that happens, Sales will often convert it to a house account.”

“So why would that anger this Jacob Collier?”

“Because it means that instead of getting a five percent commission on those sales, he’ll now be getting one percent to service the account and that means he’ll have to hustle up some new business if he wants to make up the four percent he’s losing.”

“But surely a man who’s seventy-eight is ready to retire?”

“He is. But his son and granddaughter are taking over the territory and it means less money for them.” Drew shook her head. “It’s not as if they couldn’t see it coming. That’s business.”

Less for Collier’s family, more for hers, I thought as I gathered up my purse, tote bag and robe from the car.

“And probably more for a sharp sales director like Chan?” asked my internal pragmatist.

“Not your business,” the preacher said, sternly reminding me of Detective Underwood’s request to keep my nose out of his investigation.

“Dixie’s not back yet?”

Concern crossed her lovely face. “No, and I’m starting to get worried. I stopped by an hour ago to see how she and Lynnette were doing and her friend Cheryl asked me to stay till Dixie got back. She forgot she had an appointment with the marketing head of a sleep chain. Or so she said.”

Drew’s smile was rueful. “I myself think she saw a way to cut out early. The thing is, she said Dixie would be back by two and I’m supposed to be at the String and Splinter at two-thirty.”

I glanced at my watch and made shooing motions with my hands. “It’s five after. Go. I saw Dixie at the police station and—”

“Police station? Cheryl said she had to go sign some papers or something. I thought it was the hospital. What would she be doing at the police station?”

If Chan’s death were indeed a homicide, it wasn’t my place to tell her.

(The preacher gave a nod of approval.)

I made a dismissing motion with my hand. “It’s probably because he died without his own doctor around.”

“But his doctor’s right over in Lexington,” said Drew, looking confused.

“There’s always bureaucracy and red tape,” I said. “Anyhow, I told Dixie I’d stay with Lynnette. Speaking of whom, where is she?”

She pointed and I walked over to Pell’s back porch and looked up. There sat Lynnette about twenty feet off the ground, half hidden in the branches of a tall oak tree that had almost finished leafing out.

“Hi there,” I said.

She gave me a solemn nod, then looked away.

I was learning that her plaited pigtail was a barometer of her mood. At the moment, it hung limply over her left shoulder and she twisted the end aimlessly through her small fingers.

Drew touched my arm and we walked out of earshot. “She’s been up in that tree ever since I got here and I can’t get her to come down. She’s always been so sweet and precious to me and now I can’t even get her to talk. Poor little thing must be grieving her heart out.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s like cats. She’ll come down when she’s hungry or thirsty or needs the bathroom. You go ahead. I’ll watch her till Dixie comes.”

“There’s just one hitch,” said Drew, adjusting the cuffs of her black linen jacket. “I have my car out front, but there’s no time now to hunt for a parking space over there. I was going to get Dixie to drop me off.”

“I can do that,” I said. “I’ll put my stuff in my room and you write Dixie a note so she’ll know I’ve got Lynnette.”

When I got back, the child was still up in the oak.

While Drew stuck the note on Dixie’s screen door, I called up,

“Hey, Lynnette,

Want to get

In my Corvette?”

“That’s not a Corvette,” she said scornfully.

“Well, Lynnette doesn’t rhyme with Firebird”

She didn’t move. “I’m waiting for Aunt Millie and Shirley Jane.”

“I don’t think they’ll get here much before dark and Drew really needs us to drive her somewhere right now,” I told her. “Besides, I was hoping you’d show me through the Discovery Center this afternoon.”

“With the dolls?”

“Dolls?” It was my understanding that the Center was devoted to a history of furniture making. Where did dolls come in?

“They’ve got a bajillion. Wait’ll you see. Don’t budge, Miss Deborah Judge. I’m coming.”

“You must have children,” Drew said as she tucked herself into my passenger seat.

“Nope. Just lots of nieces and nephews.”

Lynnette dropped like a feather from the lowest limb and scrambled into the backseat. If her braid didn’t exactly float, neither did it droop.

“Click it or ticket,” she chanted as we buckled up and hit the road.

The resiliency of childhood.

Having grown up in the area, Drew Patterson knew every inch of High Point and she knew how to thread the one-way streets to get us over to the west side of town and eventually cross the railroad tracks without having to double back.

The String and Splinter, I was told, was in Market Square, a complex of interconnected buildings that looked like an old antiques mall grafted on a modern high rise.

“So what is it?” I asked as we waited through a second cycle of lights while trying to cross Main Street. “A restaurant?”

“Dining club. Most members are either in furniture or hosiery. They should have called it Fabric and Wood, but I guess that wouldn’t have been cute enough.”

“Are you a member?”

“Dad is. My grandfather was one of the original members.” She gave a small laugh. “Now that could be the furniture industry’s motto: I’m Following in My Grandfather’s Footsteps. It’s almost like medieval Europe. Your grandfather worked on the line, you work on the line. Your grandfather was sales rep for this territory, you work the same territory fifty years later. Your grandfather owned a furniture company and joined the String and Splinter, you do, too.”

“You serious?” I asked as the light finally stayed green long enough for me to get through the intersection. “You actually inherit a spot in a factory or a sales territory?”

“Absolutely. That’s why Jacob Collier was so furious with Ch—”

She broke off as she suddenly remembered that Lynnette was sitting quietly in the backseat.

“So now you go on around the hospital and just keep straight till we cross over the railroad tracks, then take the first left.”

I did as she said and fetched up in front of a charming black iron gate that led to the String and Splinter Club’s heavy oak door. The facade was brick and boxwood and frosted glass for privacy.

“Very British-looking from out here,” I observed.

“Inside’s full of Sheraton and Queen Anne reproductions. Queen Victoria would feel right at home.”

She might poke fun at it, but I could hear the affection in her voice.

“Dad and Mother love it and the chef is wonderful. Maybe you could join us for lunch one day next week?”

Spoken with the graciousness of a hereditary princess.

“I’ll have to look at my schedule,” I said.

Drew thanked me for the lift, told me how to get to the Discovery Center, and reached back to squeeze Lynnette’s knee. “ ’Bye, punkin. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.”