Thirteen Diamonds

CHAPTER 15

Sandra was still asleep when I woke up the next morning, but Winston was standing in his crib, ready for action. I changed his diaper and fed him a bottle-I was getting pretty good at this-then took him outside in the morning sun.

I had babysat with Winston again the night before. The four young people had gone out together and Sandra had come in late again. Now, Winston and I explored the parking lot of the motel while we let her sleep. After a while I took him back inside because I was hungry and wanted to give her a nudge.

She was just waking up. She didn't seem to be her usual cheery self as she went into the bathroom. When she came out she said, “What's the matter with men?”

I didn't have a quick answer for that one so I kept quiet. After some chitchat about Winston and other minor topics, she said, “Mark spent most of the evening talking to April. It was as if I didn't exist.”

“You should know by now that Mark talks to everybody. He's a friendly person. You don't have anything to worry about. April already has a boyfriend.”

“Surfer dude Ron? He's a nonentity.”

I couldn't disagree with that. I shut up and decided to let her funk run its course.

I had received a message from Tess stating that nobody named Harrington lived at Silver Acres. However, I had Benny's home telephone number; I decided to give him a call. After we greeted each other I said, “Do you remember the name of Maxwell Harrington's wife?”

After a pause Benny said, “I'm afraid I don't. Is that important?”

“It might be.”

“I believe his son still lives in San Diego. I think he's a dentist. Hang on while I get a phone book.”

I hung on, hoping he would come up with a name. I didn't relish having to search through county marriage records. Besides, I didn't even know where Maxwell had gotten married.

Benny came back on the line and said, “Dr. Michael Harrington is his name. He has an office right here in La Jolla. Probably specializes in tooth problems of the rich.”

He gave me a telephone number and address. I immediately dialed the number and a cheery female voice answered. I asked about office hours today-Saturday. The cheery female voice said that they went until noon but that Dr. Harrington had no openings. Could she make an appointment for me? I said that all I needed was five minutes of his time and that I would come in and wait until he was free. She began some well-rehearsed arguments, but I told her in a voice as cheery as hers that I would be right there; then I hung up.

As I sat in Dr. Harrington's waiting room, thumbing through an old issue of Cosmopolitan, I tried to work on my story. I certainly couldn't tell him I was investigating a murder.

Sandra, Mark and Winston had dropped me off and were looking at the interesting caves along the La Jolla beach. Although Sandra had been cool toward Mark during breakfast he was so relentlessly cheerful that I suspected he would soon be back in her good graces.

The cheery voice I had talked to on the phone belonged to a face and body I never would have associated with it. The woman of the voice was overweight, and although she couldn't be more than 50, I suspected that I was in better shape than she was. She finally condescended to let me have my five minutes with Dr. Harrington at quarter past twelve.

I met him in one of his dental procedure rooms, complete with reclining chair and instruments used for oral torture. He still had a patient in the next room, for whom he was mixing something in a small container. His colorful sport shirt, long hair and mustache were perhaps intended to make him look younger than his forty-some years. They succeeded in disguising the fact that he was a dentist.

I introduced myself. He looked at me when he said hello, asked what he could do for me and then turned back to his mixture. Realizing that I wasn't going to get any more of his attention than this, I said, “I'm sorry to take up your time. But I have a friend in the Economics Department at the UC campus here-uh, Benny Tokamatsu.”

“I don't know anybody who's in the department now,” Dr. Harrington said without turning his head. “It's been a long time since my father taught there.”

“But he remembers your father. He was a student when your father…when your father was there.”

“As far as I'm concerned, those days are best forgotten. What is your interest in my father, Ms…?”

“Lillian.”

“Lillian.”

Sometimes honesty is the best policy. “I knew Gerald Weiss.” Dr. Harrington seemed to miss a beat with his stirring, but he didn't say anything. “I was looking through his papers at Dr. Tokamatsu's office when I came across a draft copy of the book, Fiat Money Madness. On the title page it had Gerald's name and it also had your father's name.”

Dr. Harrington snapped his head around to face me. He said, “Can you wait another 15 minutes until I finish with my patient?”

“Yes.”

He ushered me into a small office that contained a desk and no dental equipment. There was a single chair at the desk and he motioned for me to sit there. I actually waited about 20 minutes for him to return. A picture of a young boy and girl sat on the desk. So did a picture of a woman, who looked wife-like. I looked around for more pictures, but didn't see any.

Dr. Harrington came bustling in, looking somewhat agitated, sat down on the edge of the desk and said, “Where did you say you were from…Lillian?”

I hadn't said. “North Carolina.”

“Is that where you knew Dr. Weiss?”

“Yes.”

“I heard that he died. From something very strange. A food allergy, I think.”

“He was allergic to shellfish. It was a long-time problem. I don't suppose your parents ever mentioned it.”

“No. But I remember meeting him a few times. I was a teenager when Fiat Money Madness was published. Dad had been working on a book, but I never heard a title. He suffered a stroke just before Fiat Money Madness was published. I dimly remember my mother being very upset about something-not just my Dad's condition-but I was fuzzy about the details at the time. Thinking back, it probably had to do with the book.”

“What is your mother's name?”

“Ellen. Maybe you know her. Do you live at the Silver Acres Retirement Community?”

“Yes.” There was no point in denying it. “I know an

Ellen Tooner.”

“That's her. That's my mom. She remarried after Dad died. Now my stepdad's dead, too, of course.” Dr. Harrington became lost in thought for a minute. “What are you planning to do with the information you found out about my father?”

“Nothing. I'm just a retired mathematics professor, not an economist. When Benny-Dr. Tokamatsu-told me you were living here in La Jolla I thought you ought to know, if you didn't already. He seemed reluctant to tell you, himself. I guess he was afraid you'd stir up ghosts.”

Dr. Harrington fingered his mustache. “I suppose I could stir up something. My mother didn't because she was too busy taking care of my father, and probably because she didn't like to cause trouble. But if I brought it up now half the economists in the country would vilify me. I guess I'm like my mother in that respect; I'm living a pretty good life and I don't want it to change.”

“Dr. Harrington, I'd like to ask you a question that's a little bit off the subject. Do you play bridge?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Did your parents play bridge?”

“They taught me how to play.”

“Did they ever play bridge with Gerald Weiss and his wife?”

“There was a faculty bridge group; they met at our house from time to time. I'm sure Dr. and Mrs. Weiss were part of it.”

“Gerald-Dr. Weiss-was playing bridge when he died. In fact, now I remember that your mother was sitting at his table. He had just been dealt a very unusual hand-13 diamonds.”

“Wow! I never had a hand like that.” His surprise seemed genuine.

“Somebody told me that Dr. Weiss had been dealt 13 diamonds once before. Do you remember your parents ever mentioning that?”

“No, I don't.”

I decided to shut up; I was beginning to sound like an interrogator. I thanked Dr. Harrington for his time. He thanked me for telling him about the book. I gathered that this may have supplied a missing piece to his perception of his father's life.

As I walked out of his office I wondered if his good life was about to change. I liked him and didn't wish him any ill fortune. It occurred to me that I could help to keep it from changing by doing nothing. Perhaps justice had already been served. An eye for an eye.

Nobody wanted me to be involved, anyway. Albert didn't. Tess didn't. Carol Grant didn't. The ladies of the lunch committee-the former lunch committee-didn’t. Why not just forget the whole thing?

Sandra, Winston and Mark impatiently waited for me in the parking lot. We had the rest of the day to enjoy ourselves in Southern California since we weren't flying home until the next day. I resolved to have some fun.