Chapter Twenty. The Body with The Bomb
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE BODY WITH THE BOMBSHELL
How do I know I’m special? My grandmother came straight to me last night even though her best friends were dying for a debrief.
Mervyn let them know she was back, but that’s not the same as getting all the juicy details straight from Grandma Lainey.
The inside of a police station—imagine the material!
She’s making it up to them now over a late breakfast in the dining room.
Everyone is here except Felix and his grandfather, because Mr. Gutierrez had a doctor’s appointment and Felix wanted to go with him.
I definitely didn’t deflate when I realized he wasn’t going to be here—or regret the extra ten minutes I spent curling my hair and putting on eyeliner.
This is a perfectly fine way to spend the morning.
Mr. Namura even whipped up a coffee cake for the occasion.
“I did not hide a file inside this cake for Lainey to break out of jail.” His announcement is followed with a wink so broad I’m afraid to take a bite.
“I thought you’d go with donuts,” Mrs. A says, carefully slicing through the streusel-topped pastry. “Police, donuts. You know.”
Mr. Namura clenches a fist, growling a “damn” under his breath. “Next time.”
“Not that we want Lainey to see the inside of the slammer again anytime soon.” Mrs. A sends me a comforting smile.
“First things first.” Malia sets down her coffee cup with a thunk. “Did they have a two-way mirror?”
“And the lighting?” Mrs. A wants to know. “Did it flicker and buzz?”
“Did they try to good cop/bad cop you?” Mr. Namura jumps in, before my grandmother can answer. “Which one was Detective Ortiz?”
Grandma Lainey holds up a hand. “We’ll get to all that. First, I have an update. There’s been a development.” Her pause is pure drama. “In the investigation.”
“What?” My squawk of outrage draws every eye in the room. But seriously, this information would have been useful to have last night.
“It seems the EpiPen is no longer the focus of their inquiries.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Then it doesn’t matter where they found it.” Mrs. A’s voice trembles with relief. She must have been putting a brave face on it, at least in front of me, because I get the feeling she was a lot more scared than she let on yesterday.
“All I know is that they appear to be looking in a different direction now. I was unable to get more out of them than that, alas.”
“I’m sure you tried, Lainey.” Malia looks around at the other residents, who nod agreement.
“If anyone could have wormed it out of them, it’s our Lainey,” Mr. Namura adds.
“Thank you.” Grandma Lainey’s half bow is the casual everyday alternative to her sweeping curtain-call version.
Felix and his grandfather arrive in time to see her straighten. I’m torn between watching the charged eye contact between my grandmother and Mr. Gutierrez and waiting for Felix to look at me so I can smile.
Things feel different between us today, like a change in the weather.
(The actual weather is holding steady at sauna levels of heat and humidity.) He really showed up for me last night.
Maybe some people wouldn’t find it comforting to make a mini incident board while their grandmother is in jail, but playing detective was exactly the distraction I needed.
His head is bent, asking his grandfather something. Now he’s looking up, and around—it’s not a huge stretch to think he’s searching for me—and there it is. He’s spotted me.
My mouth is already lifting at the corners when I register his expression. It’s not Oh goodie, I found Virginia! Felix looks tense. I point my chin at the empty seat beside me; he runs a finger under his nose, pointing at the doorway.
What am I supposed to do, fake a bathroom emergency? Also, what if we miss something important? He widens his eyes at me, already backing out of the room.
“I think Felix wants a word,” Mrs. A whispers. I could kiss her for the assist. It’s enough to make me overlook the excited shoulder dance she’s doing.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her, hightailing it out of there.
As I follow Felix down the hall that leads to the lobby, I hear someone question Grandma Lainey about whether the coffee at the station tasted “authentically burnt.”
They could be at this for a while.
“Is your grandpa okay?” I ask Felix, thinking maybe they got bad news at the doctor’s office.
He blinks at me like I’m speaking a foreign language. “Oh, yeah. For now. We don’t actually know for sure.”
“But that’s not what you wanted to tell me,” I cleverly deduce.
He shakes his head, gesturing at the person waiting by the doors. “Sofia and I need to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Maybe he was just being friendly last night. Or he didn’t think he had a shot with a beautiful older woman until somewhere between Castle Claude and the medical plaza, sparks flew—
“Hey,” Sofia says, friendly as ever. “Okay, so this might sound weird.”
“No, I get it.” The heart wants what it wants.
Felix gives me a funny look. “You know what Claude’s sister has been up to?”
“I’m cool with weird things in general. That’s what I meant.” The twirly fingers really sell it. I focus on Sofia. “You were saying?”
“Bernie booked some rides with my sister Carmen. I don’t think she realized we were related, you know? We’re kind of invisible, like a bus driver.”
I nod, though my closest experience to this was working the snack bar at the pool last summer. Nobody pays attention to the person who serves their soft pretzels. They just want their cheese sauce, stat.
“Anyway, we were looking at the calendar and I saw her name and I was like, ‘Hey, do you know who that is?’ And once I got going of course she remembered the whole story about the will, because that was a major day for all of us. Then Carmen was like, ‘Huh.’ And I’m like, ‘Yes?’ It’s super annoying when she does that, like we’re all going to stand there for five minutes until she finishes her thought process. ”
I know exactly what Sofia means.
“Sorry, sidebar. After that Carmen goes, ‘She must be like one of those people who are always crashing weddings and bat mitzvahs, only her thing is wills and funerals.’ Because it turns out she spent the whole day after the reading of Claude’s will at this big law firm—and guess what they specialize in? ”
To my relief, she doesn’t actually expect me to hypothesize.
“Estate planning,” Sofia finishes with a flourish.
It takes me a few seconds to catch up. “So … she’s writing her will?” Maybe she had to change it after Bradley died. That’s sad, even for someone low-key horrible like Bernie.
“Tell her the rest,” Felix prompts.
“Carmen said she came out of that place looking really happy. And a couple guys in fancy suits were with her, shaking hands and acting all full of themselves.”
Felix snorts at that. “They were lawyers, is what you’re saying.”
“That’s not all.” Sofia locks eyes with me. “She’s gone to see like four different psychiatrists in the last couple of days.”
Once again, I’m confounded.
“She needs a lot of therapy?” Felix guesses.
“Maybe.” Sofia shrugs. “But it seemed like something you might want to look into.”
“Right.” The impulse to agree with Sofia, who is cool and smart and older, is powerful. As soon as it fades, I realize I have no idea what she’s talking about. “How?”
“Wherever you think she might be hiding stuff,” she says, super casual. Before I can respond, she plugs her ears. “I don’t need to know.”
Felix elbows me, like he’s itching to tell me something.
“I have to go,” Sofia informs us. “I’m scheduled to give Bernie a ride to Bradley Odell’s funeral.
” She pauses to let that sink in. It feels like overkill, considering she’s been speaking like a kindergarten teacher, enunciating each word as if we’re hooked on phonics.
Then again, I did manage to forget about the funeral until this morning, when Grandma Lainey informed us that the Castle Claude crew would no longer be attending.
Mervyn decided our presence would be “counterproductive” in light of recent developments, which is apparently lawyer speak for “One of you just got hauled down to the station for questioning in connection with the suspicious circumstances of Bradley’s death. ”
I can see how that might strike a sour note. On the plus side, it sounds like not going has opened up a window of opportunity, if I’m reading Sofia right.
“One P.M. pickup,” she says, stressing the time. “Should last at least an hour, longer if she stays for the reception.” At the door, Sofia pauses to show us her phone. “I’ll text you if anything changes.”
As soon as we’re alone, Felix turns to face me. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That depends,” I hedge.
He steps closer, even though there’s no one else around. “We’re breaking into her apartment.” It’s right on the line between a statement and a question.
I shake my head. “No need.”
“But you heard what Sofia said—”
“I have a key.”