A Cry for Self-Help (A Kate Jasper Mystery) by Jaqueline Girdner Page B

paused for a second. “If someone did,” he added belatedly.
    I wondered if Yasuda knew what Felix had told us, if he knew that Skyler had been pushed over that bluff.
    “I know you’re right,” Yasuda murmured, still twisting his hands. “At least intellectually. But emotionally and morally…” He shrugged his shoulders and arched his eyebrows even further. I had a feeling he knew how Sam had died.
    And I found myself nodding.
    There is something about having your world touched, however peripherally, by a crime as serious as taking someone’s life that breeds an ethical compulsion to find answers, to seek justice. Or maybe not even ethical, maybe just nosy.
    And all three of us on that ratty old couch knew it. I finally did sigh then.
    “What do you know about Sam Skyler?” Wayne asked.
    “Sam?” Yasuda reflected, unclasping his hands. “Well, I admired the man. I know there were those in Marin—and in Golden Valley especially—who didn’t. But I did.”
    “Why?” I asked, genuinely curious.
    “He was a generous man, in terms of community,” Yasuda told us. “He contributed to the Golden Valley Elementary School after last year’s flooding almost destroyed it. Actually, there wouldn’t be any Golden Valley Elementary School without him. And he gave personal scholarships out of his own pocket to kids all over Marin who were bright but too poor to go anywhere with their lives. Subsidized a whole graduating class in Southham City one year. Anyone who wanted to go to college, he paid their tuition. As long as they kept up their grades. He was a good man, no matter what he did in the past.”
    “Then why did people dislike him so much in the community?” I demanded. “Because of the old murder charges?”
    “No,” Yasuda answered slowly. “I don’t think very many people even knew that ancient history. And if they did, most of them figured he’d been mistakenly accused and cleared. It was because of the Institute. Not what the Institute did. But the building itself. Did you ever see it?”
    I shook my head.
    “It’s a huge place. And there was a lot of fuss before it was built. A lot of people didn’t think it belonged in the valley at all, which is mostly residential. Lots of accusations of bribery were flying around when its construction was finally approved by the City Council.”
    “Was this before or after he gave the money to rebuild the elementary school?” I asked.
    “Before,” Yasuda assured me. He shook his head. “But people still think his contributions were some kind of payoff. Some people, anyway. And lots of these people hadn’t even met him. It’s really weird how the community was split on the issue of Sam Skyler’s worth, and a good half of them didn’t even know him.”
    “But you did,” Wayne put in.
    “Yeah,” Yasuda admitted. “I live in Golden Valley. I met him a couple of times at community meetings. He was a really impressive guy. But people either liked him or they didn’t.”
    That about summed it up. It was a while before Yasuda went on.
    “And then there’s Yvonne’s business to consider,” he muttered finally, dropping his gaze, a flush pinkening his tan cheeks. I wondered if he even realized he’d stopped calling our class leader Ms. O’Reilley.
    By the time he’d finished telling us how worried he was about the effect of Sam Skyler’s death on Yvonne’s business, and on her delicate psyche, I’d decided that if Yvonne had a crush on the park ranger, the crush was mutual. And then I started wondering what ritual they’d come up with if they got married.
    My extended fantasies of samurai, goddess, and geisha, including a good portion of role reversal and even some cross-dressing, were interrupted when Park Ranger Yasuda got up from our couch.
    “Thank you for listening,” he said simply.
    “Oh…um…thank you,” I responded automatically, embarrassed that I had lost the last half of the conversation while engaged in unscheduled wedding