in Baja."
"I suppose so." A depressing thought.
The provision that made me sit up (we were in bed by then) was the establishment of a
non-profit Foundation to run a writers' colony. Llewellyn had left the lodge, the lake, and the land
around it, plus a generous cash endowment, to Siskiyou Summit--that was the name he had
chosen for his Foundation--and he had specified that Winton D'Angelo was to serve a ten year
term as its first director.
The Foundation board was to include Llewellyn's accountant, his lawyer, and three poets
"of national stature." I wondered if Ma had got word of the Foundation--from D'Angelo? from
the lawyer? It was right up her alley.
I mentioned my suspicions to Jay, along with an account of Ma's phone call. "I'll bet ten
bucks she's lobbying to be named to the board."
He pulled me back down beside him. "Why not? She's a logical choice."
"Yes, but she'd be out here every summer! Maternal surveillance!"
He laughed.
"Maybe Ma hired Miguel to poison Llewellyn." I pinched his bare arm. "Have you
looked into that?"
"No, and I'm not going to. Miguel didn't poison his boss."
"Then why did he run?"
"I'm more worried about how he managed to slip a pearl gray Mercedes out of town. It's
not exactly inconspicuous."
"Out of town?"
"He told Domingo he was going into town to gas up and have the oil changed. Cowan
was on duty near the Peltzes' access road, and Miguel even waved at him. The kid drove the car
to the Chevron station on Grand, did what he said he was going to do, and took off. The station
attendant thought he headed west on Grand but isn't sure. That's as far as we can trace Miguel.
We did a helicopter search, and the county cars have been poking down every back lane and log
skid. The highway patrol didn't come up with anything either. Maybe some citizen will call in
tomorrow with more information. Until then we're completely at sea."
"He probably got on I-5 and headed south."
"No." Jay was stroking my back with happy results. I purred. "Somebody would have
spotted him at that patch of construction north of Weed."
"Where it's down to one lane both ways?" I rubbed against him.
"That's the spot,"
"Mmm-mmh," I murmured, distracted. "That's the spot," and we forgot about
Miguel.
Jay was gone before I woke up the next morning. I dimly remembered the telephone
ringing. I got up, showered, and ate breakfast to the country and western twang of the local radio
station. The news break revealed no further developments in the disappearance of Miguel
Montez.
I opened the store at ten, reminding myself that Ginger did not know Dennis was the heir
to fourteen million dollars and to keep my mouth shut. I did that so well she thought I was mad at
her. I explained that I was worried about Miguel.
"Worried about him?"
"About his disappearance. It made Jay look bad with the sheriff."
"Oh." She accepted that. We were too busy to carry on a discussion. Around three the
phone rang. I was waiting on a customer who seemed to be a customer. She wanted a copy of The Secret Garden for her granddaughter. Ginger answered the phone.
I had waited on three more people before I noticed Ginger was missing. I rang up the last
sale and ducked into the back room.
She was sitting at the desk, staring at the telephone.
"Hey, snap out of it."
She lifted her dazed brown eyes to me. "That was Dennis. He said old Llewellyn was his
father and that he just inherited millions of dollars."
I tried to project astonishment. I am not a good liar.
"You knew!"
"Well, Jay talked to the attorney yesterday. But he said I couldn't tell anybody.
Congratulations, I think."
"I'm scared."
"How was Dennis?"
"He sounded..." She screwed up her face. "He sounded lost." She started to cry. "It's not
fair. The filthy old bastard. Why did he have to do that to Dennis? He could have told him."
I handed her the box of tissues on the desk. "It is strange."
Ginger hiccupped. "Dennis is going to be rich, and he won't want me anymore."
I assured
"I suppose so." A depressing thought.
The provision that made me sit up (we were in bed by then) was the establishment of a
non-profit Foundation to run a writers' colony. Llewellyn had left the lodge, the lake, and the land
around it, plus a generous cash endowment, to Siskiyou Summit--that was the name he had
chosen for his Foundation--and he had specified that Winton D'Angelo was to serve a ten year
term as its first director.
The Foundation board was to include Llewellyn's accountant, his lawyer, and three poets
"of national stature." I wondered if Ma had got word of the Foundation--from D'Angelo? from
the lawyer? It was right up her alley.
I mentioned my suspicions to Jay, along with an account of Ma's phone call. "I'll bet ten
bucks she's lobbying to be named to the board."
He pulled me back down beside him. "Why not? She's a logical choice."
"Yes, but she'd be out here every summer! Maternal surveillance!"
He laughed.
"Maybe Ma hired Miguel to poison Llewellyn." I pinched his bare arm. "Have you
looked into that?"
"No, and I'm not going to. Miguel didn't poison his boss."
"Then why did he run?"
"I'm more worried about how he managed to slip a pearl gray Mercedes out of town. It's
not exactly inconspicuous."
"Out of town?"
"He told Domingo he was going into town to gas up and have the oil changed. Cowan
was on duty near the Peltzes' access road, and Miguel even waved at him. The kid drove the car
to the Chevron station on Grand, did what he said he was going to do, and took off. The station
attendant thought he headed west on Grand but isn't sure. That's as far as we can trace Miguel.
We did a helicopter search, and the county cars have been poking down every back lane and log
skid. The highway patrol didn't come up with anything either. Maybe some citizen will call in
tomorrow with more information. Until then we're completely at sea."
"He probably got on I-5 and headed south."
"No." Jay was stroking my back with happy results. I purred. "Somebody would have
spotted him at that patch of construction north of Weed."
"Where it's down to one lane both ways?" I rubbed against him.
"That's the spot,"
"Mmm-mmh," I murmured, distracted. "That's the spot," and we forgot about
Miguel.
Jay was gone before I woke up the next morning. I dimly remembered the telephone
ringing. I got up, showered, and ate breakfast to the country and western twang of the local radio
station. The news break revealed no further developments in the disappearance of Miguel
Montez.
I opened the store at ten, reminding myself that Ginger did not know Dennis was the heir
to fourteen million dollars and to keep my mouth shut. I did that so well she thought I was mad at
her. I explained that I was worried about Miguel.
"Worried about him?"
"About his disappearance. It made Jay look bad with the sheriff."
"Oh." She accepted that. We were too busy to carry on a discussion. Around three the
phone rang. I was waiting on a customer who seemed to be a customer. She wanted a copy of The Secret Garden for her granddaughter. Ginger answered the phone.
I had waited on three more people before I noticed Ginger was missing. I rang up the last
sale and ducked into the back room.
She was sitting at the desk, staring at the telephone.
"Hey, snap out of it."
She lifted her dazed brown eyes to me. "That was Dennis. He said old Llewellyn was his
father and that he just inherited millions of dollars."
I tried to project astonishment. I am not a good liar.
"You knew!"
"Well, Jay talked to the attorney yesterday. But he said I couldn't tell anybody.
Congratulations, I think."
"I'm scared."
"How was Dennis?"
"He sounded..." She screwed up her face. "He sounded lost." She started to cry. "It's not
fair. The filthy old bastard. Why did he have to do that to Dennis? He could have told him."
I handed her the box of tissues on the desk. "It is strange."
Ginger hiccupped. "Dennis is going to be rich, and he won't want me anymore."
I assured
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