Amateur Hour

Kayla

Somehow, Steph had beaten her, into the kitchen, this morning, so Kayla had been obliged to eat every bite of a barely passable breakfast, consisting of unadorned scrambled eggs, bacon that was flabby, in places, and toast that was, to her palate, nearly burned. She had drawn the line at consuming grits, opting instead to assemble a small bowl of fruit, for herself.

Clearly, this bunch had some things to learn about nutrition. Steph had passed on the offer of juice, pleading heartburn — so typical of her, but at least the others had accepted.

As was her wont, Kayla had been quiet, as the others had discussed their plans, for the day. The discussion had mostly been an animated rehash of the dinner conversation, of the night before. Nothing had changed. The kid was going swimming, with his friends, and she wouldn’t have to babysit him. Guy and Steph were going to Atlanta. She would have the whole day to accomplish whatever tasks they set for her, in their absence.

Now she found herself at her desk, in the reception area, meekly awaiting Guy’s return with some New Canaan documents that he wanted her to go over, before turning her attention to the journals. The thought of sifting through papers, all day, wasn’t exactly exciting, but she didn’t mind. Attention to detail was something at which she’d always excelled. When Guy reappeared, with three, four-inch thick ring binders, she was even a bit intrigued.

“No one has had any time, to go over these,” he opened, placing them on her desk. “They’re from the school’s archives, in the old wing.”

“Stolen, in other words,” she quipped.

“Borrowed,” he corrected her. “We have Ted’s full permission to review anything that might be pertinent, old or new. Anyway, these are financials, dating back about ten years. Teacher salaries, student enrollments and tuitions, things like that.”

“What am I looking for?” she asked, becoming serious.

“Names, mostly. Names that cross over, from one category to another. You’re looking for patterns, and glaring anomalies, to the patterns.”

“I think I understand. Inexplicable pay raises, unusual docking of pay, things of that nature?”

“That, sure. I’m thinking you might find interesting things regarding the enrollments, too, particularly any extra billing, to parents. Take your time. Be thorough. If you don’t get to the journals, that’s okay. We have more than enough people studying those, right now.”

Kayla agreed, albeit silently, with this. Steph was amassing copious notes, and she was only halfway through the second volume. In Kayla’s opinion, she was entirely too involved, with all the teen angst. At times she was barely civil, especially to Guy.

As little as she liked him, his forbearance evoked no sympathy, in Kayla. Rather than being annoyed with Steph, and standing up for himself, Guy was content to be her whipping boy. It smacked of weakness, which was not an admirable trait in a man.

“You look like you’ve swallowed a live toad, Chica,” he observed. His eyes had narrowed, and his attention had shifted from the job they were discussing, to her.

She realized that she had been silent, for a little too long, while these thoughts had run through her head.

“I was thinking about something else.” It sounded lame, even to her.

“What?” he asked, pulling up a chair.

“I was just thinking that Steph is pretty disturbed, by what she’s reading.”

“It’s disturbing stuff.”

He leaned back, in the chair, lazily attentive, to what she might say next. It was clear that he wasn’t about to leave. She would have to choose her words, carefully.

“It’s affecting her.”

“Of course, it is. But, it won’t break her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, she’s doing what she was designed to do. It’s up to me, to watch her, for any signs of wear or damage. She does the same, for me.”

“From where I’m sitting, she seems to be treating you, like a punching bag.”

He gave her a long, speculative look, and she had to fight, not to squirm. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the warning, in his eyes.

“You’re not good, at this. Even Julio failed, and he’s a master.”

He rose, then, with a hint of a smile. “Nice talk, Chica,” he said, parking the chair in its original place. “Hope it helps you digest that toad.”

The man was insufferable. He and Steph deserved each other.

*******

Guy

Trudy and her husband both came out to meet them, when they pulled into the driveway, to drop Galen off. Guy was amused to see that, while Trudy was tall, her husband could only be described as massive.

Jim McKay was deeply tanned, with a face that was craggy, yet pleasant, somehow. His clothes, while clean, were tattered, in places, and spattered with paint, caulk, and a smear or two of tar, for good measure.

Guy was relieved that his hand, after being shaken, came back to him, undamaged. Jim’s grip had been firm, but no firmer than necessary. His hand had been calloused — a working man’s hand, but his demeanor was quiet. The moment he spoke, Guy understood why.

Jim’s speech was slow and deliberate, because, like his daughter, he was prone to stammer. Guy felt for the man, who was plainly intelligent, when he spoke, yet hampered in his speech. He could only hope that his sympathy didn’t show too much. Men didn’t relish pity, from other men.

Steph didn’t seem concerned, at all, he noticed.

***

“So, who, in your family stammers?” he asked her, when they were on their way, again. “You weren’t taken off guard,” he explained.

“My cousin,” she half shrugged. “That’s probably why Galen doesn’t make much of it, when it comes to Gerri.”

“Does it make me a bad person, that it made me a little uncomfortable?”

“It takes some getting used to, that’s all. It can be awkward, at first, but you handled it, fine. It actually did take me by surprise. My cousin stammered, because of childhood trauma. I didn’t realize it could be inherited, too.”

They rode quietly, for a while, both enjoying the nostalgia of a ride with him, behind the wheel of his car, an Steph, riding shotgun.

“This feels like old times,” he said, after a while.

“It’s great, isn’t it?” She smiled, and cracked her window, a bit.

“I’m a little surprised you’re not buried in some work — though that would have been the same, too.”

“I need a break,” she admitted. “I did bring the journals, and my notes, for later. But, I’m afraid they’re sort of turning me into a monster.”

“They’re not. You think I don’t know how you get, when you’re running with something? I’ve read them. It’s heavy stuff.”

“What’s your take, Guy?”

“My take is that I should let you finish, and then we’ll compare notes.”

“So, you’re… finished.”

He expelled a breath, between pursed lips. He hadn’t missed her tone. She was disappointed, in him, and a bit vexed.

“Guy?” she prompted, when he didn’t answer, right away.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say,” he warned her, glancing in her direction.

“When has that ever stopped you?” she joked. She turned a little more toward him, in her seat. “Come on, vato, fess up. I’m listening.”

“Jess Greene is gone, Steve. I was the last person, to see the poor girl’s body.”

“I know.”

“Right now, I’m more concerned about Franklin Riley, and all the living kids.” There. It was out. He braced himself for her reaction.

“You connected, with the kid. I get it.”

This response knocked him a bit off balance, but he continued with his own thoughts.

“We might, one day, get some kind of justice, for Jess,” he said. “But that’s all we can do, for her — if we can do that.”

“You think I’d be mad about your saying that? Well, yeah — I’m angry that that’s all we can do, for her, but I realize that the kids who are still alive have to be a priority.”

“Why did you sound like that, then, when you asked if I was finished?”

“I guess I thought that you were ready to blow it off. That she didn’t matter, to you.”

“She matters, Steve. I just didn’t see anything that might be very useful, with the rest of the case, in her journals. I could be wrong. I could have overlooked something.”

He sighed. “I don’t have your patience, to pull at every little thread and analyze every nuance, when I don’t see anything that pertains to Franklin and the others.”

“Okay.”

“We’re good, then?” he asked.

“I guess we are.”

He wasn’t so sure about it, however, given the colorless quality, in her tone. In his top shirt pocket, his phone dinged.

“Text. Want me to have a look?” she offered.

“It’s nothing. Christina probably posted something to the family group chat.”

“Could be Ted.”

“Doubt it. He always texts and calls you. If he wasn’t married, I’d be jealous,” he joked. He hoped she’d let it go. Guy knew exactly what the text alert was, and from whence it had come.

“You don’t go out of your way to disabuse people, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when people actually do take us, for a couple, you let them.”

“Why not? We’ve played one, before, at least three times, and we interact like we’ve been together, for a decade. If it bothers you, I’ll be crystal clear, about it, in the future. Like you are.”

She didn’t answer. The silence continued, for a full hour, throughout which, her exasperated expression didn’t change.

“Hope your face doesn’t freeze, that way,” he teased.

“Shut up.”

“What did I do? All I said was that I’d be clear with everyone, in the future. Isn’t that what you want?” he demanded, all wide-eyed innocence.

“How about you start, by being clear, with me, Guy?”

He waxed serious, at this. “You know exactly where you stand, with me. Don’t pretend you don’t. I’ve told you. I’ve shown you.”

“You say a lot of things. Most of them aren’t serious.”

“You know the difference. You always know the difference. But, for the sake of clarity, I love you. Okay? Clear enough?”

“Clear enough. I think you just missed your exit.”

Guy growled, and signaled to get off, at the next exit, to double back. Once their course was corrected, he took up the topic again.

“I’d appreciate it, then, if you’d stop insisting I’m just your business partner, every time you meet someone, who asks,” he said.

“Okay, vato.”

“Thank you.”

“Denada,” she replied, in the same, offhand way he always said it.

“Couldn’t resist, could you?”

“Nope.”

The rest of the trip was peaceful. The elephant, in the room had been addressed, if not permanently dealt with.

“You’re coming in, aren’t you?” Steph frowned, when he carried her overnight bag to the porch, but didn’t pocket his keys.

“I’d like to, but…” he glanced at his watch. “Yeah, okay. For a few minutes. Wouldn’t want Ruth to think I’ve lost the few manners I had, I guess.”

After coffee, he stood and kissed Ruth’s cheek, and planted one on Steph’s as well.

“I’d better run, and pick up Galen, before the McKays decide to claim him, for life,” he said.

“Drive safe, Guy,” Ruth said.

“I will.”

“Call, when you get home?” Steph requested.

“Of course. Love you.”

“Love you, vato.”

“Bye,” he waved at them both, before stepping outside. Once inside his car, Guy pulled out his phone, and opened his text messages.

Steph wasn’t the only one, who owned a secondhand computer. Guy had purchased the Mac, on a whim, out of curiosity. He hadn’t had much time to play with it, but it did have an interesting feature that had proved useful, today. The computer could be set up to send a message to his phone, when ‘awakened’.

This was the second time it had been touched, by someone else, and now there was no doubt about who had disturbed it. He’d set up a password so nonsensical and convoluted, that he’d had to write it down, himself. Even if Kayla were to crack it, there was nothing on the computer. It was a decoy. A trap.

Guy pocketed his phone with a smirk, and started the Mustang’s engine.

*******

Ted

“Good morning, sir,” the gatehouse guard greeted him, with a look of surprise.

“Reese,” Ted nodded, having scanned the man’s name tag. He wasn’t the same guard who had been on duty, the day Gordon had died. “Do me a favor, and let Staunton know I’m on my way in, and that I’ll take coffee in the office, when he has some, ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

The phone was in his hand, before Ted had his window rolled up. Nina would laugh, fit to die, at this casual throwing around of his weight, and call him out for the impostor he was. The thought made him smile, a bit.

He did it to purpose this morning. Ted wanted to surprise Staunton, but not to throw the man into a panic.

It had occurred to him, that, if Gordon had already been deceased, when Starkey had arrived, the master of the house might not have communicated directly, with the gate guard.

He wanted to clarify that point, with the butler, and find out what he knew, if anything, about the visitor who had preceded Starkey, that day. It would be preferable to do this, in person. Besides, he wanted to get a look at Gordon’s personal files, in his home office.

The front door was unlocked, and Ted strolled in, as if he did so, every day, paused to hang his hat on the tree, by the door, then strode boldly through, to Gordon’s office. This room, in contrast to all the others in the living spaces of the house was an efficient, businesslike area.

The desk was elegant, functional, and probably weighed as much as a baby elephant. Behind it was the big, maroon office chair, designed for hours on end of comfortable sitting. A long credenza, nearby, was home to two potted cacti, the fax machine, the printer, a single cup coffee maker and a basket of assorted coffees, creamers, and the like. Ted presumed these were meant for lesser visitors, who didn’t rate refreshments provided by the house.

The room was also equipped with a shredder, in one corner. The small sofa, which had been displaced by folding chairs, for the reading of the will, had been restored to its usual place, along with the low table, and the sole armchair.

On the right hand wall were five four-drawer filing cabinets. To his chagrin, he saw that they were secured with RFID locks. It seemed unlikely that Gordon would have tucked his card into one of the desk drawers, but he would have to look.

Leaving the pocket doors ajar, Ted settled himself behind the desk, to do that. He was nearly ten minutes into his search, when Staunton arrived, with his coffee.

“Good morning, sir,” the older man greeted him, setting the tray on the desk.

“Good morning, Staunton. Thank you,” he nodded toward the tray.

“Are you looking for something in particular, sir?” Staunton asked, as he proceeded to pour out a cup.

“Yes. The RFID card, to the filing cabinets.”

“Ah.” Setting the pot down, the butler reached into the pocket of his vest, and pulled out a plain blue object, the size of a playing card, and placed it before Ted.

“You had a spare?”

“No, sir. I liberated this one, from Mr. Eldridge’s desk, before the police investigation started.”

“I see.” He didn’t, but it was something Staunton would probably explain. The man seemed forthcoming, enough. “Please, have a seat, Staunton. I’d like to discuss some things, with you.”

As he sat, Ted rose, and went to the table, to fetch a clean, empty cup from the ones clustered near the coffee maker. Staunton watched, in mild surprise, which increased when Ted filled the cup, for him.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re very welcome. I have other things to ask about, but I have to know — was Gordon actually in the habit of leaving the key to his high tech filing cabinets, in his desk drawer?”

The other man smiled, a little. “Not at all, sir. If you remove the top drawer, you’ll find a plastic pocket glued to the back side of it. Mr. Eldridge secured the card there, then locked the drawer, with a key, at the end of the business day. I possess a key, to the desk.”

“He placed a lot of trust, in you.”

“In the absence of a secretary, I suppose that’s true.” Staunton sipped his coffee, and uttered a small, quiet sigh. “I was paid, very well, for my willingness to guard Mr. Eldridge’s security, and my ability to suppress my curiosity. The money put two children through college, and provided for my retirement. As I had no wish to retire to prison, sir — or worse — I made it my own business, to stay out of your father’s.”

“Yet, you haven’t retired.”

“Some of the glow wore off my plans, when my wife passed away. At first, I stayed, to remain busy. Later, I stayed, out of habit. For the past year, I’ve been training my replacement.”

“Surely, you’re free to leave, now? As long as you can be located, if you’re needed, to testify?”

“I am, but… I would like to assist you, as much as possible, first.”

“May I ask what your plans are, for the future?”

“Mr. Eldridge bequeathed me both property, in the Keys, as you know, and an ample pension. I believe I will keep the property, but it’s too warm a place, to live, permanently. I purchased my own small house, in Georgia, some years ago. My plan is to live there, close to my children, and to get to know my grandchildren.”

Ted leaned back, in his chair, to sip his coffee and to regard Staunton, for a moment. The butler’s face had taken on the thoughtful aspect of someone who had come to realize that there was a future, for himself.

There was hope, in the expression. Ted decided, there and then, to expose as little of what Gordon had been involved in, to this man, as possible. He deserved better, than to live with the regret of having enabled an unscrupulous employer.

“Will you answer some questions for me, in the meantime?”

“To the best of my ability. I know little to nothing about Mr. Eldridge’s business dealings, as I’ve said.”

“These are questions you should be able to answer.”

“Very well, sir.”

“First of all, am I correct, in assuming that the guard at the gate notifies you, when there’s a visitor, then you relay a message to the master of the house?

“That’s correct. Unless the housekeeper receives the message, then she relays it to me, etc. There is a chain of command. I assume you’re alluding to the day of Mr. Eldridge’s death.”

“I am.”

“I received the messages personally, that day. There were three callers, total, counting yourself. Four, if you wish to count Mr. Miles, who came with you.”

“I know Joseph Starkey was the visitor, before me. He was leaving, as I arrived. Of course, the Sheriff’s office won’t disclose the identity of the visitor, before Dr. Starkey, but I presume you told them.”

Ted’s head was starting to ache, a bit, just from listening to himself speak. He was starting to sound exactly like Gordon, and Staunton, in his syntax and vocabulary. It was an oratory style that he’d thought himself well rid of.

“Indeed. The first visitor was Mr. David Eldridge, according to the gate guard.”

“According to the guard,” Ted repeated.

“I didn’t see him, sir. Mr. Gordon told me to bring an additional cup, for tea, and dismissed me, when I had. This wasn’t surprising, as Mr. David visits frequently enough, to know his way, to the sitting room.”

“And, Dr. Starkey? You didn’t show him in, either?”

“Dr. Starkey was responding to a summons, and I was told of it, in advance, by Mr. Eldridge,” Staunton’s mouth twitched in some amusement. “It was often so, in his case. I opened the door, for him, and left him to find his own way. Your father’s notions of hospitality were variable, to say the least. Dr. Starkey ceased to rate a courteous escort, some two years ago.”

“Then I arrived, with Mr. Miles.”

“Yes. You made it clear you desired no escort, and as Mr. Eldridge’s son, you had a degree of privilege. You were free to dispense with an escort,” he clarified.

Ted pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes. These rules and conventions were beyond him. It was all a consistent lack of consistency. He supposed Staunton had been steeped in it, for so many years, that he no longer noticed.

“Are you unwell, Mr. Billie?”

“I believe I’m sprouting a headache. Never mind — have some aspirin, in my briefcase. Do you know how the locks work, on the filing cabinets?”

“The first step is to tap the card on the reader, then to enter the code, when the light turns green. Unless Mr. Eldridge changed it, the code is the first four digits of your birth date.”

“How touching,” Ted replied, dryly. “I’ll try that.”

“If there’s nothing else, sir…”

“Not just now, thank you, Staunton. I appreciate your help, my lack of manners, notwithstanding.”

“I understand that you are in stressful situation, at present, Mr. Billie. Please call, if you require anything, further. I can be reached at number seven, on the desk phone, and Mrs. Quincy, the housekeeper, is at number six.”