Strawberry Sunday Page 24

  “My name is Tanner. I work at the hospital. I’m wondering if you know where Tess Haldeman is.”

  “You work with Dr. Haldeman?”

  Point one.

  I nodded. “She’s a vital part of my research team, as you may know.”

  “And she didn’t tell you where she went?”

  “I think she left a message on my machine, but those digital things don’t pick up soft voices worth a damn. Anyway, Tess has vital information on one of our patients. It’s crucial that I talk to her.”

  “I … she told me not to tell. No matter what.”

  “My goodness,” I exclaimed in mock surprise. “It sounds like she was frightened of something.”

  The old woman seconded my concern. “She said someone might come here and try to hurt her. She said if I heard anything scary, I should call the police.” She hesitated, then gnawed on a knuckle, then gathered her sweater around her torso as though it were knit of chain mail. “I think maybe I should do that now.”

  When she started to close the door, I put out my foot to stop her. “I’m not trying to hurt Tess, I assure you. I just need her help.”

  “How do I know that?”

  I smiled. “Do I look like a criminal?”

  She inspected me head to toe. “Sort of,” she concluded.

  “Then that proves it.”

  “Proves what?”

  “That I’m not a criminal.”

  Her face crimped in puzzlement. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple. Criminals don’t ever look like criminals. Do they? The people on the news, the ones who’ve just slaughtered their family or mowed down a McDonald’s, don’t you always say to yourself, why he looks like such a nice boy. I don’t see how he could have done such a thing. Admit it. You say that a lot.”

  “Well …”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Sometimes,” she yielded.

  “Look. I need to see Tess. She’d want to see me if she knew of this problem. There are patients’ lives at stake here.”

  “Babies’ lives, you mean?”

  Point two. “Quite possibly.”

  “Well, I … okay. But I don’t know where she is, I only have a number.” She went into the house and came back and read out seven digits. “You can use my phone if you want.”

  “Thanks, but I’d better call from the office. That way I can consult the charts and be sure I get what I need.”

  “That makes sense, I suppose.”

  I waved the paper with the number on it. “Thank you for this,” I said.

  “You’re welcome. I hope.”

  She closed the door and went inside to fret and stew till the next time she saw Tess Haldeman alive and well. I felt like a heel, but I’m used to it.

  The number she’d given me had a San Francisco prefix. If I’d been at the office, I’d have used a reverse directory and located the address. If I’d been less proud, I’d have called Jill Coppelia and asked for her help. As it was, I opted for the obvious and called it from the cell phone in my car.

  The voice that answered was thin and reluctant, a match to the one I’d just talked to. “Is this Tess Haldeman?” I asked after she said hello.

  “I … how did you get this number?”

  “Sources.”

  “What sources?”

  “Confidential ones.”

  “I don’t … who are you?”

  “My name is Tanner. I was a friend of Rita Lombardi and Mona Upshaw, both of whom are dead, as I assume you know. Is this Tess Haldeman?” I asked again.

  She countered with her own obsession. “How did you get this number? I really need to know or I’m going to hang up.”

  “From your neighbor,” I admitted.

  “Myrtle? You didn’t hurt her, did you? If you hurt her I’ll—”

  “I’m not a criminal, Doctor,” I interrupted. “I met Rita Lombardi at the hospital when she was recovering from surgery and I was recovering from a gunshot wound.”

  Her voice slid toward sarcasm. “I thought you said you weren’t a criminal.”

  “You must not spend much time in the emergency room. Most of the ones who get shot are the good guys.”

  “I … what’s this about, exactly?”

  I gave her a capsule summary of my relationship to Rita and the progress of my investigation into her death. Then I gave her some chancy references—Jill Coppelia and Mace Dixon—and told her we needed to talk if there was any chance Rita’s killer could be caught. “And Mona Upshaw’s,” I added.

  “Poor Mona.”

  “How well did you know her?”

  “We worked together once.”

  “In the maternity unit at the Haciendas hospital. Before it was shut down.”

  “That’s right. Is it important somehow?”

  “It is if something happened down there that had to do with the Gelbrides and the Lombardis.”

  Her gasp was as audible as a siren. “I don’t think I should talk about that.”

  “Can we meet, Dr. Haldeman? Please? Motive is the missing piece of the puzzle.”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know what to do. I could end up in jail for this.”

  “If you don’t talk to me, you’ll have to talk to the police. They know the connection between you and Ms. Upshaw—they found your number in her phone records. There were lots of calls the month before she died, which was the month Rita was a patient in the hospital where you work. The cops probably consider you a suspect at this point, but if you talk to me, maybe I can persuade them to leave you alone.”

  “I don’t know what to do. I need time to think.”

  “I’ve had time to think, and I think I’ve figured it out. I’m pretty sure I know what happened in Haciendas twenty-six years ago.”

  “If you know, why do you need me?”

  “Because I screwed up once before in this case and made a charge I couldn’t support. I need to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  She was silent so long I thought I’d lost her. “Is it all going to come out, do you think?”

  “Possibly. There will be a criminal trial if she doesn’t cop a plea.”

  “Trial of who?”

  “Missy Gelbride.”

  “Missy,” she repeated without inflection.

  “Yes.”

  “Poor Missy. I always felt so sorry for her, having to grow up in that family.”

  “It turned out better for her than it did for Rita.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Missy’s still alive.”

  This time the silence seemed reverent and eternal.

  “Please,” I said. “For Rita.”

  “Rita means very little to me, actually. The one I care about is Mona. She was the best nurse I’ve ever worked with.”

  “Then help me convict her killer.”

  “Do you know the Caffè Roma? In North Beach?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll meet you there in an hour.” She paused. “You’re not working for the Gelbrides, are you?”

  “The Gelbrides hate my guts. The problem is, I’m not quite sure why.”

  “I can tell you,” she said, then said good-bye.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  I got to the café before she did, in time to enjoy the pedestrian parade that was the usual marvel of ethnic chaos, in time to be working on my second Americano when a shadow dropped onto my table. “Mr. Tanner?”

  I stood up. “Dr. Haldeman?”

  She nodded and we shook hands, then she sat down and folded her hands in front of her, as though meeting me was cause for prayer, but I doubted if she was giving thanks. She was pushing sixty, I guessed, a trim and handsome woman, tall without bulges, wearing black slacks and a red sweatshirt with the 49ers logo on the front. “May I get you something?” I asked.

  “Tea, please. English breakfast, if they have it.”

  I went to the counter and placed her order. When I got back to the table, I said, “Is it signific
ant that none of the doctors I know drink coffee?”

  “Probably.”

  “So I should give it up?”

  “It’s like most things. Do you want to live a long and boring life or a short and exciting one?”

  “The latter. No question.”

  “Then drink up.” She looked at me soberly. “I called that District Attorney woman you mentioned.”

  “Good.”

  “She vouched for your integrity.”

  “Good.”

  “You’re not as handsome as she told me you were, however.”

  In my current state of self-regard, I considered it a compliment once removed.

  She waited while the waiter deposited her tea on the table. “This has been weighing on me for nearly thirty years,” she said. “On others as well, of course. I’ll be glad to be rid of the burden. And I hope this will be the end of it as far as I’m concerned.”

  I shrugged. “No guarantees. This is a murder case, after all.”

  “Two murder cases.”

  “Three, actually. Franco,” I added when she seemed puzzled at my calculus.

  She shook her head. “This affair brings no credit on anyone,” she went on, her voice vague, her mind hiking through the rocky past. “And as I said, I’m probably opening myself to criminal prosecution. But it’s time to tell the story. Among other things, getting it out in the open is the only way I can protect myself from what happened to those poor women.”

  I let her rationale solidify until she told me what had happened, in chilling detail but without obvious affect. It was as though she were talking to a tape recorder about a distant relative who’d gone missing. Then she talked in clichés and generalities about medicine and its exhaustions and frustrations, about the politics of semirural hospitals, about the power of money and the lure of hard drugs.

  When she was finished, I asked a question. “Why did you do it, Doctor? Both of you, I mean.”

  “Mona did it for money. Mr. Gelbride offered her a fortune, enough to buy a nice house, enough to make herself financially secure for life, enough to let her stay in Haciendas rather than have to move to a big city where they pay nurses a decent wage.”

  “And for you?”

  “For me it was safety.”

  “Safety from what?”

  “Jail.”

  “Why jail? And what do hard drugs have to do with it?”

  She closed her eyes long enough to form a synopsis. “I had a habit. I’d been in a car accident two years before and I still had lots of pain in my neck and back and legs. I started taking drugs so I could keep working despite my pain and fatigue, morphine derivatives, mostly. Occasionally methamphetamine. I thought I could control it, use it for positive purposes, but it got out of hand. Eventually I was taking so much from the drug cabinet the shortage was noticed and suspicion definitely focused on me. As it happened, Mr. Gelbride owned the hospital, so he learned what I had done. When the day came, Gus offered to suppress the investigation if I did what he wanted me to do.”

  “That was twenty-six years ago tomorrow.”

  “Yes. It seems hard to believe, but yes.”

  “You did what he asked and felt guilty ever since.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Probably.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

  “I can’t put myself in your shoes, Doctor.”

  Her jaw firmed and her eyes became accusatory. “I imagine you think you can.”

  “I seldom boast of my willpower, Doctor. It took me ten years to quit smoking.”

  She breathed deeply, easing pressure on her nervous system. “I appreciate your candor, Mr. Tanner. May I go now?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks for the tea and sympathy.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I hope you can keep this part out of it.”

  “I’ll probably need to tell the Gelbrides what I know. To persuade them to do the right thing by Rita and her heritage if nothing else. But I don’t know why they’d tell anyone.”

  “They’d tell if it would help get Missy a lighter sentence.”

  “Probably. But given their behavior, it won’t win them a lot of points.”

  “It didn’t earn me any, that’s for sure.” Her look was pained and apologetic. She stood up and shook my hand. “Even though I know bad things are going to happen, I’m glad to have this off my chest.”

  “Good. Are you still convinced the farm chemicals caused Rita’s birth defects, by the way?”

  “I was for a while. Then I learned there was a history of congenital abnormality in the mother’s family, so now I’m not sure. Since Rita’s dead, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does if you’re a farmworker,” I said.

  She steeled herself to leave.

  “I scared Myrtle a little so she’d tell me your number. I told her I was a doctor and that babies’ lives were at stake if I couldn’t reach you. You might want to set her straight.”

  Her look was dark and disapproving. “You’re a bit of a bastard yourself, aren’t you, Mr. Tanner?”

  “When I have to be.”

  “How often is that?”

  “Five days a week.”

  With a quick wave and a small smile she was out the door and into the crowds meandering down Columbus Avenue, looking for paraphernalia they don’t have in Fresno or Philadelphia. I went up to my apartment, repacked my bags, and drove back to the Salinas Valley. After I checked into the motel and made some calls, I was in Haciendas at four o’clock sharp, walking into the police station.

  Sal Delder was at her desk. When I said hello, she frowned. “Reb isn’t happy with you,” she said.

  “I expect not.”

  “He’s not sure he should go along with this charade you cooked up.”

  “I don’t blame him.”

  “Are you sure you’re right?”

  “Reasonably.”

  “You weren’t about the other.”

  “I know.”

  “The forensics on Mona support you a little.”

  “How so?”

  “There were chips of nail polish on the body. Also some face powder. Don’t tell him I told you,” she added with a girlish grin.

  “Thanks for your help in this, Sal,” I said.

  She shrugged. “Not much to it.”

  “But still. You did what you could for Rita.”

  “After she died. I’m not sure I did nearly enough while she was living.”

  “Few of us do,” I said, and patted her shoulder. “It would have been fun to go dancing.”

  She grinned. “It might at that.”

  “The chief is a good man.”

  She sobered. “Yes, he is.”

  “He’ll do right by you sooner or later.”

  “I keep telling myself that. Right after he walks out the door Saturday night at midnight.”

  “Take care, Sal.”

  “You, too, Tanner. Come back and see us some day.”

  “Next time I need a good tan,” I promised, then walked back to talk to the chief.

  He was in his usual chair in his usual getup, but this time there wasn’t a friendly wrinkle in his face. “You’re taking more on than you got a right to in this, Tanner.”

  I shrugged. “Surely the end justifies the means, even in Haciendas.”

  He touched his badge. “You don’t believe that and I don’t either.”

  “What’s got you upset, Chief?”

  “If there’s evidence a Gelbride committed these murders, I don’t know what it is.”

  “You will in an hour.”

  “Why don’t you run it by me now? That way I can save the Gelbrides some time and trouble by tossing your ass out of town.”

  I grinned. “I think I’ll save it till the curtain goes up. That way I’ll only have to tell it once.”

  “While I sit around like someone’s pet hound when you lay it all out.”

&n
bsp; “I don’t need credit, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll tell people it all came from you if you want.”

  “Shit. It’s not credit I’m worried about. It’s blame. The Gelbrides finance a campaign against me, I could be recalled in an hour.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the reason the Gelbrides agreed to see me at all is that they know I know the truth. And the reason I know is Tess Haldeman confirmed my suspicions.”

  “Suspicions about what?”

  To sidestep the question, I looked at my watch. “We’d better get a move on.”

  “We’ll take my car,” he said. “In case I decide to make an arrest.”

  “You’re not thinking of arresting me, I hope.”

  “I been thinking of nothing else since you called.”

  The squad car smelled of leather and vomit and Lysol. The chief’s jaw was as fixed as a manhole cover. We drove west with the receding fog, the tires hissing over the damp road like warnings of impending danger. “I’m making a big mistake letting you do this,” the chief spat suddenly. “Probably cost me my job.”

  “Why don’t you wait and see?”

  “Why don’t you let me handle it myself?”

  “Because it’s not all about law. Some of it’s about equity.”

  “Whatever the hell that means.”

  “It means the Gelbrides need to do right by Rita Lombardi.”

  “And you’re going to make that happen?”

  “I’m going to give it a go.”

  “I never much pair the Gelbrides with good works,” the chief said sourly, and veered off the main road and onto the one that took us up to the handsome aerie that was the Gelbride version of Berchtesgaden.

  Gus was waiting in the drive. The man beside him was a stranger to me and apparently to the chief as well. We parked under the portico and got out. The chief greeted Gus with false effusion but Gus only grunted. “The barn,” he said brusquely, and headed that way in a bellicose stride.

  “I thought the whole family was going to be here,” I called after him.

  “No need.”

  “I think there is.”

  “What you think don’t matter.”

  Gus kept going, with the stranger close on his heels. The chief looked at me and I looked at him. “The barn,” I said with a laugh, and we joined the haphazard parade.