doctor and certainly not Sarah be involved in any of that stuff.”
She blotted her eyes with the pads of her fingertips; the way a woman does to avoid smearing her makeup, and then returned to her pattern of hurried speech. “When Sarah was the office manager, she was hard on people. But like I said, the doctor and his wife were as straight as Ozzie and Harriet Nelson. Not that some of his patients didn’t try coming onto him, they even hit on me. It was no dull job. I can tell you that. Dr. Andujar even helped me shed some of my own silly inhibitions.”
She was talking a mile a minute and skipping through random thoughts. Unsure what she might say next, Jack decided to let her ramble.
“Mr. McCall, I’ve been wracking my brain, and I can’t imagine why he would take his own life. But I can tell you he was frantic toward the end. Maybe if he found out he had terminal cancer or something. It would have been like him to not tell me about that.” Her hands continually pierced the air with darting gestures. “But Sarah said his physician told her Dr. Andujar was in good health. Why did he … kill himself?”
“A few minutes ago you described Sarah as ‘hard on people.’ What did you mean?”
“Don’t get me wrong. Sarah is a lady. A real lady. But when you’re around her all the time, well, sometimes she shows a different side.”
“Like what?”
“She would speak harshly to our computer repairman, even the young hunk who delivered our bottled water. Stuff like that. When she belittled her husband, I was embarrassed for him.”
“Anything else?”
For the first time, Fuller spoke in a normal cadence. “Did he really kill himself?”
“I plan to find out, Ms. Fuller.”
“Call me Agnes, please. Sarah is lucky to have you as a friend.” Agnes turned toward the door, causing a loud leather screech, then twisted back with a note in her hand. “Here is my address and phone numbers. After Chris’s death I was unemployed for a long time. I recently got a job as a secretary at the State Department. I’ve been there about two weeks. Please don’t contact me until we find out who is following me. I don’t want whoever it is to know I’ve spoken to you.”
She pulled the door handle.
Jack reached for her arm. “Do you live alone?”
“Yes. I have a boyfriend, but he works most nights until pretty late. Why do you ask?”
“Tomorrow night at six-thirty, a repairman will come to your home. He’ll tell you he has come to repair your dishwasher. He will find and remove any surveillance equipment in your home. His name will be on his shirt, Drummond.”
Her voice rose and the cadence of her speech again quickened. “I’m scared. Terrified is more like it”
Jack gripped her forearm, held firm, and smiled. “Let’s find out if you’re being watched. The man who will come is an expert. No one will think he is anything but a repairman. Do you have a neighbor you’re friendly with?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Find a way to tell your neighbor you’re having trouble with your dishwasher. Put a rack on your drainboard and put in a few clean, wet dishes. Let it be known you’re expecting a repairman. It’ll be fine. Just do it like that.”
“Okay, Mr. McCall. Sarah says you’re the best. Send your repairman. I’ll be alone.”
Jack watched Agnes Fuller head for the elevator to go up to the ground floor. From the back she looked like two hundred pounds of cashews sewn into a one hundred-pound sack. He rushed up the parking ramp in time to see her cross Pennsylvania Avenue, walk one block farther away, and get into a dark coupe like the one that had abruptly driven away from Sarah Andujar’s home. At that distance he could not clearly see the man or read the license plate.
As he walked back down the ramp, Nora pulled into the underground lot driving her Mustang with the new brakes. Going up in the elevator Nora reminded him about Mary Lou Sanchez. “She started work this morning. And don’t
She blotted her eyes with the pads of her fingertips; the way a woman does to avoid smearing her makeup, and then returned to her pattern of hurried speech. “When Sarah was the office manager, she was hard on people. But like I said, the doctor and his wife were as straight as Ozzie and Harriet Nelson. Not that some of his patients didn’t try coming onto him, they even hit on me. It was no dull job. I can tell you that. Dr. Andujar even helped me shed some of my own silly inhibitions.”
She was talking a mile a minute and skipping through random thoughts. Unsure what she might say next, Jack decided to let her ramble.
“Mr. McCall, I’ve been wracking my brain, and I can’t imagine why he would take his own life. But I can tell you he was frantic toward the end. Maybe if he found out he had terminal cancer or something. It would have been like him to not tell me about that.” Her hands continually pierced the air with darting gestures. “But Sarah said his physician told her Dr. Andujar was in good health. Why did he … kill himself?”
“A few minutes ago you described Sarah as ‘hard on people.’ What did you mean?”
“Don’t get me wrong. Sarah is a lady. A real lady. But when you’re around her all the time, well, sometimes she shows a different side.”
“Like what?”
“She would speak harshly to our computer repairman, even the young hunk who delivered our bottled water. Stuff like that. When she belittled her husband, I was embarrassed for him.”
“Anything else?”
For the first time, Fuller spoke in a normal cadence. “Did he really kill himself?”
“I plan to find out, Ms. Fuller.”
“Call me Agnes, please. Sarah is lucky to have you as a friend.” Agnes turned toward the door, causing a loud leather screech, then twisted back with a note in her hand. “Here is my address and phone numbers. After Chris’s death I was unemployed for a long time. I recently got a job as a secretary at the State Department. I’ve been there about two weeks. Please don’t contact me until we find out who is following me. I don’t want whoever it is to know I’ve spoken to you.”
She pulled the door handle.
Jack reached for her arm. “Do you live alone?”
“Yes. I have a boyfriend, but he works most nights until pretty late. Why do you ask?”
“Tomorrow night at six-thirty, a repairman will come to your home. He’ll tell you he has come to repair your dishwasher. He will find and remove any surveillance equipment in your home. His name will be on his shirt, Drummond.”
Her voice rose and the cadence of her speech again quickened. “I’m scared. Terrified is more like it”
Jack gripped her forearm, held firm, and smiled. “Let’s find out if you’re being watched. The man who will come is an expert. No one will think he is anything but a repairman. Do you have a neighbor you’re friendly with?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Find a way to tell your neighbor you’re having trouble with your dishwasher. Put a rack on your drainboard and put in a few clean, wet dishes. Let it be known you’re expecting a repairman. It’ll be fine. Just do it like that.”
“Okay, Mr. McCall. Sarah says you’re the best. Send your repairman. I’ll be alone.”
Jack watched Agnes Fuller head for the elevator to go up to the ground floor. From the back she looked like two hundred pounds of cashews sewn into a one hundred-pound sack. He rushed up the parking ramp in time to see her cross Pennsylvania Avenue, walk one block farther away, and get into a dark coupe like the one that had abruptly driven away from Sarah Andujar’s home. At that distance he could not clearly see the man or read the license plate.
As he walked back down the ramp, Nora pulled into the underground lot driving her Mustang with the new brakes. Going up in the elevator Nora reminded him about Mary Lou Sanchez. “She started work this morning. And don’t
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