Where's Robert Roberts?

Olivia was stunned when Judy agreed to work with her. Now what? Olivia’s last friendship unraveled after college graduation. They’d roomed together the last two years, but didn’t live in each other’s pockets. Or solve a murder together. What was she supposed to do with Judy? Fortunately, Judy jumped right in.

“Do you have some paper and a couple of pens?” Judy asked. “We should write some of the facts down.” Judy whirled toward Olivia’s hand-me-down sofa that Grandma gave her when she moved in. “I have another hour before I need to pick up Elizabeth.”

“The facts.” Olivia could handle that. What had Judy meant by having nowhere to teach? She’d get to that later. She grabbed her legal pad and sat cross-legged opposite Judy and scribbled a note to self to check out the school biz later. Murder first. “What do we know so far?” She and Judy went through the time line from finding Esme, the coroner’s initial findings, and the evidence at the scene.

 “Well, we know that the killer had to like gardening,” Judy said.

“I disagree. I think the killer had a healthy hatred for gardening. Why else would he—”

“Or she.”

“Or she use a gardening implement to commit murder? I guess I never thought of a woman being that strong,” Olivia thought out loud. “Who do we know is that strong?”

“Barry thought it must have been a stranger,” Judy reminded her. Olivia shook her head.

“Again, I disagree. Murders are usually crimes of passion, and Esme’s murder was particularly passionate.” Both of them were quiet. Olivia’s mind churned trying to come up with suspects. What reason could anyone have to kill the old woman? The death had to have been some macabre accident after all. She kept coming back to the reports Esme had copied.

“There was that piece of stone that broke off the statue’s base,” Judy said. “And I found scratches.”

“Maybe vandals were planning to damage the statue.”

“Not the first time something like that’s been tried,” Olivia mused. “With all the talk of moving the statue, maybe somebody planned to steal it, or something. Esme happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Too simple.”

“For scrap metal?”

“Could be.”

“Do we know the composition?” Olivia frowned and looked through her notebook.

“Copper?”

“We should find out. Probably bronze.”

“Don’t know who’s buying what on the black market. Been a while since the last story we ran.”

“Anyway, your Adam seemed to think the statue’s placement was important.” Judy stopped and frowned. “Which reminds me, what did you find out about the code in the newspaper, anyway?”

“Not much.” Olivia uncurled her legs, got up and went to fetch the delicate paper and the page of notes she and Adam Ray had made. She sighed. She should have known. Hanging onto a boyfriend proved even more difficult than hanging onto an intern. “Here you go. We couldn’t come up with anything.”

 Judy took it. “Hmm.” She was silent for several minutes. Olivia yawned pointedly a couple of times. Then she got up and stood in front of the window, blocking the light. Judy looked up and blinked. “Oh, sorry. I started to read the article. I forgot how interesting all this Wide Awake stuff was. Danger and intrigue. The Civil War was as much of a mixed-up era as any.”

“Right. So, the letters are written down on a page inside.”

“Where? Oh, I see.” The paper fell out of the fold of the copy of the newspaper edition, a special like the one Olivia had put out for the murder.

“Yeah, so we looked carefully through the article and wrote down the letters in order of their appearance. Like that.” She pointed to the page, which was covered with lines of neatly copied block letters of the alphabet. Judy’s lips moved while she silently read, then counted, the letters. She looked up at Olivia.

“You have no idea what this means?”

“Nope.”

Olivia paced in front of the window, clasping her elbows, speaking tightly. “Seventy-one letters, nineteen of them different, weird combos of letter groups, hardly any vowels and not many of the most common letters.”

“Yet it’s got to be a code.”

“I think so. I put in a call to a buddy who does something with codes in computers. I haven’t heard back yet.”

“But there weren’t any computers in 1860.” Olivia felt the nasties coming on again. She almost used her favorite phrase to mock her new friend: “Well, duh.” She took a deep breath. “Uh, that’s just his job now. He’s got a gift for figuring out puzzles.”

“Oh, yes, that makes sense.” Judy got up and walked into the bathroom. She left the door open, so Olivia, curious, wandered over in time to catch her holding the page up to the mirror.

“dktqmdcknfdgscdvnkknengvlhgqdcmtmvnqtnsbdspqocmzmnhszmcdshmtzqnecmzsrdv” looked the same no matter what direction the letters faced. Total gobbledy gook.

“We tried that,” Olivia said. “We tried a lot of things, even put it into one of those graphic programs that measures stuff in the computer. Adam Ray had it on his laptop. We spent hours on it, believe me. We tried everything.”

“Sure, sure.” Judy’s face had turned pink.

“You okay?” Olivia asked.

“Yes.” The girls went back to the living room.

“I think the money is tied in somehow,” Judy said. “Maybe it was used to commit a crime, or buy guns for the other side in the war, or something,” Judy said. Sticking to the facts wasn’t necessarily Judy’s strong point, Olivia thought.

“Do you think we’re ready to talk to Barry?” Judy asked. “How about talking to the mayor first? Maybe Phyllis can dig up some records that shed light on what happened.”

“We have to look in the storage area at City Hall. And we have to find a way to get into the old vault.”

“You mean, the one under Robert?”

“Don’t you think it’s important to check?”

“Of course. But I don’t know how you’re going to get them to open the vault for you.”

Olivia tapped her pen on the tablet. “I wonder how many people know about the vault to begin with. There’s got to be a key or combination somewhere, depending on the type of lock.”

“Maybe Esme has it in her papers. She worked for a lot of mayors for a long time. Bryce might let us look around her house.”

“We could try that. When can you ask?” Judy looked at her watch.

“I should go pick up the baby, then head over to tell Ardyth we’re available to help her clean Esme’s house.” Olivia groaned. Cleaning anyone’s house was not her idea of an afternoon well spent. At the door, Judy said, “Unless I say otherwise, I’ll meet you there at three o’clock.”

Olivia raised a brow. “Three?”

 “We gotta eat and nap first.”

***

Judy had wanted to curl up next to Elizabeth for a couple of hours, but made herself do some neglected household chores and set the crock pot on medium. Although Hart usually cooked, he said he’d be a little late getting home from work that evening. He and Bryce had a teleconference planned with the head honchos in St. Louis. Judy had dutifully measured a couple of little half t’s that Hart had set out on top of the recipe. She picked up the card and squinted at the tiny print. Chopped up meat from the neat little package—she tried not to think about the cow Hart had raised from a sweet little white-faced calf—an onion that made her eyes water, and some curry powder.

Only a quarter t of curry. Was he sure that was right? Hart had made such a big deal about it when he bought the jar in the international market they’d visited in Chicago last summer. Judy studied the recipe carefully, then shook her head and dumped in enough of the rusty gilt powder to at least color the stew. Pepper. She ground away, thinking about the calls she had yet to make.

The baby monitor on the counter came to life with the sound of Elizabeth snuffling. Judy hesitated, hoping she wasn’t waking up yet. Nope. Judy twirled the grinder a couple more times for good measure, then wiped her hands together in satisfaction. She set the lid on tight and put the rest of the ingredients away.

Mmm, that smelled good. She must have gotten it right this time. Won’t Hart be proud? Judy turned and nearly fell over Pancho, who sat calmly in her path, whiskers twitching. One of his battle scars gave him a permanently raised brow. His meow was a question.

Judy looked at his feeding dishes. Full, both of chow and fresh water. “What?” Judy asked him. “You’ve got food and I don’t have time to pet you. Go find something important to do.” Pancho gave her a reproachful look, then trotted over to the phone stand and stood in front of it, tail twitching. Judy sighed and went to catch the receiver before it could ring twice.

“I know, you’re supposed to feel the electronic pulse coming into the house, or something, but honestly, sometimes it’s just eerie. Hello?”

Pancho made a little growl, then headed into the mudroom, where Judy heard his pet door flap.

“Hi, Ardyth, thanks for calling me back. How you feeling?” After they’d chatted, Judy arranged to pick up the keys to Esme’s house. Ardyth wasn’t up to joining them, so Judy promised to keep her in the loop. “You must have gotten on Olivia’s good side,” Ardyth said in a husky voice, then sneezed.

“Bless you. I guess so. I braided her hair. We looked at the code from 1860, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. She told me that an ancestor of Adam Ray made the statue, though.”

Ardyth whistled, then coughed. “Excuse me. Well, that’s interesting.”

Judy repeated the scant details she had on Olivia’s beau. “Oh, and I think I might have done something to put a monkey wrench in the relationship,” she added.

“I’m not sure if I should be sorry. I made her believe he could be a suspect.”

“Isn’t he?” Ardyth said.

***

Judy wrinkled her nose at the closed up smell of Esme’s little house. She swung the baby carrier after her. Olivia followed on her heels.

“Whew!” Olivia exclaimed. “Eau de cat box.”

“Bryce took away the garbage and the food and the litter,” Judy said. “Where should we start? We can box up stuff from the cupboards and the rooms, Ardyth said.”

“Where’s her office? I say we start there.”

“Here. It’s sort of tight quarters.” Olivia sat down at Esme’s pretty 1940 era desk. On the only dust-free surface were stacks of papers. “Looks like Bryce sorted some of the papers,” she said. “One pile is marked ‘historical society.’”

Judy pulled open the closet door to reveal more crates of folders and yellowed newspapers, stuffed amongst long coats of a bygone age. Three moths flitted out. “I don’t think Bryce has been in here yet.”

“No,” Olivia muttered, “these papers are the latest, all in the last five years. Bills and such.” She flipped through a couple of stacks and pulled open emptied drawers. “Nothing here. What have you got?”

Judy set the baby chair rocking to amuse Elizabeth and bent to help Olivia remove the crates.

“This is one deep closet,” Olivia said, from the depths. Her voice was muffled by the coats.

Judy giggled. “This reminds me of the Wardrobe. You know, from C.S. Lewis.”

“What? Don’t know that one.” “You never heard of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?”

“Um, not sure. Wasn’t it a kids movie or something? Came out when I was in college.”

“It was a book first, written by a man who lived in England.”

“Oh.” Olivia’s voice came from far away. “Is there a flashlight? It’s dark back here. I think there’s something in the wall.” J

udy heard what sounded like knuckles rapping on the wall. Rap-rap-rap-thunk. “I think Esme had a safe behind the wall,” Olivia called. “That flashlight?”

“I’ll go look in the kitchen. I didn’t bring one. I’m leaving the baby here. Could you listen in case she cries?”

“Yeah, sure.” Judy set the rocker in motion again and with a glance at the closet, headed for the kitchen and a likely drawer. Esme fortunately kept a large light on the counter by her old fashioned corded telephone. The big silver tube was in plain sight, so of course Judy hadn’t noticed it until she’d opened every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen and dining room. When she hurried down the hall five minutes later, she also noticed an emergency flash plugged into an outlet at floor level near the bathroom and sighed. In the door of the bedroom-office she stopped short at the sight of Olivia gingerly holding her daughter. The look on Olivia’s face made Judy wish she held a camera instead of the flashlight. Elizabeth stared at Olivia’s face, eyes opened their widest and bud mouth parted in an O. Then the baby smiled and cooed, and Olivia’s lips turned up in surprise—the sweetest longing smile Judy had ever seen on the young woman.

Olivia’s smile changed into confused concern when she saw Judy. “She, um, made some noises. I picked her up. I hope that was okay. Maybe she needs to be changed, or something.”

“Thanks,” Judy said and went into the room.

“You want her now?” Olivia asked. “No, that’s okay. She’s in good hands. You like kids?”

“Not much,” Olivia said immediately, then crimsoned right into the braids wrapped around her face. “I-I meant that I don’t have much experience with kids. Your baby is so sweet.”

Judy chuckled. “Other people’s kids can be a challenge. I should know. Okay if I go look for your secret panel? Or would you rather have the honors?”

Judy held up the flashlight. Olivia’s arms tightened around the baby. She didn’t answer immediately.

Three ticks of the clock and another baby chirp later, “Go ahead,” was her rough reply. Judy plunged into the closet, listening to the most astonishing sounds of Olivia making baby talk. Judy would prefer that Elizabeth hear real speech instead of goofy adults making ridiculous unnatural sounds, but figured a couple of minutes wouldn’t hurt. She turned on the light to reveal a square cut into the drywall at the back of the closet. A quick search with the light revealed a little tag sticking out of the left side of the boxy outline. Judy tugged on it. Out dropped the chalky square, right onto her toe. “Ouch!”

“What is it?” Olivia called in a sing-song. “What did mummykins find?” That did it. Judy backed out. “Olivia!” The sight of Elizabeth bouncing in Olivia’s arms made her stop.

“What?” Olivia said, raising her brows. Elizabeth grabbed her glasses.

“Just—ah, watch out,” Judy said. “She can do some damage if you’re not careful.”

Olivia gently released the baby’s grip. “So, what is it?”

“Oh! Um, a safe, I think. The drywall was rigged. Here, why don’t you go look.” She exchanged the heavy silver torch for her daughter. “Hey, you’re right,”

Olivia called from inside the closet. Judy stood in the frame of the door. “A safe. Locked. Where do you think she kept the combination?”

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure we should let Bryce know about this first.”

 Judy backed away as Olivia came out.

“I thought we were looking for clues.” “We are,” Judy said. “But we have to respect the fact that Esme was Bryce’s last relative, and he should know about her secret hiding places first.”

Olivia’s face set into a pout of rebellion. “Are you kidding me? This is how you solved your aunt’s murder? By chickening out when you get to the tough stuff?”

“Wait a minute!” Judy said, cuddling Elizabeth and trying to keep her temper. “This is different. Louise was my aunt. Esme is not my relative, or yours. What are we supposed to be doing here, anyway? We want to help Bryce and Ardyth, remember?” “I need to find out what’s going on. I have to!”

“We will, Olivia. Esme’s a real person, not just a story to sell. Think about that.” “Is that all you think I care about? Then you’re not my friend.”

Olivia brushed past her, dashing at her cheeks. “I can do this by myself.”

“Olivia!”