The Tree of Death Read online

“I have given you all the breaks you have coming.”

  What did that mean? “Look, Lieutenant Kirk, I have a museum to run, an opening to prepare for. Are you going to have someone go over my car or what?”

  “I’ll have someone go over it right away.” He reached for his desk phone. “You can have it back in an hour. I trust that won’t cause your opening to be delayed.”

  I stood up. “I’ll be back for it at noon.”

  Kirk sat, still holding the phone. “Miss Oliverez, I sense you’re holding something back.”

  “Me? No. Of course I’m not. I’ve tried to help…”

  “And that’s another odd thing. You certainly have tried to help. The other people connected with the museum merely answered my questions and then stayed out of it. But you’ve been bringing me these… tidbits of information daily. Why?”

  “Because I don’t think you’re doing your job!” The words were out before I could stop them.

  Kirk’s jaw hardened. There was a measured silence before he spoke. “After your opening, I’ll show you how I do my job, Miss Oliverez.”

  I backed toward the door.

  “If your museum weren’t important in this town,” he added, “and if you didn’t have a lot of influential supporters, I’d start doing my job right now-and to hell with your opening.” He paused and seemed to make an effort to regain his professional calm. “The truth is, though, I’m rather looking forward to the party.”

  “You’ll be there?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Por Dios, did he plan to arrest me at the opening? Immediately afterward?

  I turned tail and fled.

  Now you’ve done it, Elena, I thought as I ran down the stairs rather than wait for the elevator. You’re really in trouble now.

  If I couldn’t find out who Frank’s murderer was by the end of the Cinco de Mayo party, it would probably spell the ruin of my career. To say nothing of my life.

  thirteen

  I arrived at the museum at one-fifteen, disgusted with myself because I had wolfed down a hot fudge sundae with walnuts and cherries for lunch. Its sweetness had not comforted me, only made me slightly sick.

  Maria looked up from her typing as I came in. “Don Carlos, to see you.” She gestured at Frank’s office.

  I glanced back there and saw our board chairman seated at the desk. Then I looked back at Maria. “You’re looking very good today.” Her cheeks were pink, and she had her hair done up on top of her head in a fancy new style.

  “I have reason.” She held out her left hand. On the third finger was a small emerald-cut diamond.

  So she and Jesse were serious about the engagement. I supposed it was in bad taste, coming even before Frank’s funeral, but bad taste had ceased to matter very much to me these days. My primary emotion was relief that Maria had something to take her mind off the cuts on my forehead.

  “Congratulations,” I said. “Have you set a date?”

  “We will go to Reno to be married next week, after the funerario has been held. There is no point to having a wedding; my aunt would not attend.”

  “Well, I’m happy for you.” The museum would have to buy them a wedding present. I would ask Vic to pick it out; he always chose the right thing… Then I remembered that Vic was an embezzler. He would not be picking out any more gifts.

  As if my thoughts had conjured him up, Vic came out of Frank’s office, saying something over his shoulder to Carlos. He saw me and smiled, but I avoided his eyes, afraid he would somehow read my mind. I went into the office to find Carlos swiveled around toward the window, staring meditatively at the courtyard.

  “Mr. Bautista. Good afternoon.”

  He turned, a handsome gray-haired man dressed casually in golf clothes. His eyes took in the cuts on my forehead, and he frowned. “Elena, have you had an accident?”

  “Only a small one. It’s nothing.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Then he smiled, gesturing at my faded jeans. “At this museum even the acting director does dirty work, eh?”

  I took the hand he extended, conscious as I always was of an attraction between us. Carlos was a widower, and I’d sensed for a long time that his interest in me was more than professional. He, on the other hand, must have felt my reluctance to pursue a relationship with a colleague, and had never once dropped his somewhat old-fashioned courtesy.

  “I have to help with the guacamole and quesadillas,” I said.

  “Then I’m sure they’ll be delicious.” His smile faded, and he motioned toward the courtyard. “Those… are those the plants Frank spent hundreds of our dollars on?”

  The one closest to the window still sagged to the ground. “Uh, yes.”

  He shook his head.

  “Excuse me a second.” I went out and looked around for the stake to tie the plant to. It wasn’t anywhere nearby. Finally I located it where it had fallen through the grating that covered the cellar window directly under the office window. The spaces between the bars were too narrow for my hand to fit through, and I quickly gave up. Looking through the window bars at Carlos, I shrugged and went back inside. “I’ll find something to tie it to before the party.”

  “Please. I hate to see thirty dollars dragging its head in the dirt.”

  I sat down across the desk from Carlos. “What did Vic want to see you about?”

  “There are some bills he can’t pay, and we’ve received dunning notices. Fortunately, they’re from people I can persuade to hold off for a while.”

  I felt a surge of anger. The bills couldn’t be paid because Tony had been flying first class to South America and bringing back artworks. “What would we do without your help?” I murmured absently. Maybe I should tell Carlos about the embezzlement right now. Surely he wouldn’t allow it to jeopardize the opening?

  “De nada.” Carlos waved a hand, his eyes thoughtful. “Vic doesn’t look so good, Elena.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Tired. And I think he’s been drinking too much.”

  “He’s taking Frank’s death hard.”

  “That’s understandable. They’ve been friends as long as I’ve known them, and that’s many years.”

  It occurred to me that Carlos was also on the board of the Hernandez Foundation. “Did you know them back when they worked for the Hernandez Foundation?”

  “Oh, yes. In fact, the job that Frank did there impressed me enough that I suggested him as director when we were considering forming this museum.”

  “I see. Then you must have been pleased that he decided to bring Vic along with him.”

  Carlos’s eyes clouded.“ T am very fond of Vic.”‘ But he had some reservation.

  “So am I. He’s a good accountant, I guess, although I have to admit I don’t know much about the museum’s finances.”

  “You’ll learn. A director must know all aspects.”

  “Director?”

  “You’re the logical choice to step into Frank’s shoes. I’ve been very impressed with you, the five years you’ve been with us. I wouldn’t have recommended you as acting director if I weren’t seriously considering you to take over.”

  It gave me a rush of pleasure, until I wondered how willingly Carlos would stand by me if I was arrested for Frank’s murder.

  I murmured something appreciative and brought the conversation back to Vic. “Well, it will be good to have someone like Vic around to help me learn.”

  Again Carlos’s eyes clouded. “There may be some changes in personnel now that Frank is gone.”

  “Such as?”

  “Obviously Tony. The volunteers do his job for him. And Vic, perhaps.”

  Did Carlos suspect the embezzlements? His casual, hands-off manner might be designed so he could keep a finger on the pulse of the museum. “Why Vic?”

  Carlos shifted in his chair. “Close the door, Elena.”

  I closed it, then sat down and waited.

  “As long as I’ve known Vic,” Carlos began, “
he’s had certain problems. His ability to get good accounting jobs has been hampered all his life by his homely appearance. Strangely enough, he once was married to a very beautiful woman. She left him shortly before he came to the Hernandez Foundation, and she took their only child, a girl. Vic was heartbroken. He sent child support, more than was required, because he loved the girl, even though he never saw her.” Carlos paused, looking as if he wished he didn’t have to go on. “After Vic had been with the foundation a couple of years, the child became severely ill. I forget the nature of the illness.”

  “Kidney disease,” I said, remembering my conversation with Vic the other night.

  Carlos nodded. “The wife didn’t have health insurance. The child wasn’t covered on Vic’s policy. And the treatment was expensive. Vic scraped together the money for the hospital and doctors, but the child died within months. It was soon after her death that we discovered… certain irregularities in the accounts.”

  “He embezzled the money for the treatment.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he admit to it?”

  “Yes.” Carlos sighed. “At that point, Frank stepped forward. He said he would make good on the money if we would keep Vic on. He said it would never happen again. After all, it was an exceptional circumstance, and the child was dead. He pleaded with those of us on the board, appealed to our instincts as parents.”

  “And as a result, you kept Vic on.”

  “Yes. And, of course, it never did happen again.”

  “So why dismiss him now?”

  “Call it starting with a clean slate. In spite of it never happening again, I’ve always felt uneasy about Vic. It may seem unfair, but I’ve always remembered it was Frank who bailed him out. And I’ve always felt that Frank could convince Vic to do anything he wanted him to.”

  So Carlos hadn’t trusted Frank any more than the rest of us had. And Vic-of course that was why I hadn’t been able to fit the big, sad man into my mental picture of the embezzlement scheme. Frank had probably forced him to sign those checks, not through threats of exposure, since his crime had been known, but by playing on the guilt that Vic must harbor. The question now was, how much of that sort of emotional blackmail would it take to push Vic to the point where he might kill?

  I looked away from Carlos, out the window, my heart aching for Vic.

  “Don’t look so gloomy, Elena.” Carlos stood up. “It’s Cinco de Mayo. We have a party to get ready for.”‘ The smile he offered me was tired and cynical.

  “Yes, a party.” I paused. The party was less than five hours away. My news about the embezzlements would not be all that shocking to him, given his feelings about Frank and Vic. Maybe…

  “Senor Bautista?” Maria’s voice came through the closed door. “Your office is on the phone.”

  “Excuse me,” Carlos said.

  I got up to go.

  “No,” he added, “I’ll take it at Maria’s desk. And I’ll see you at six.” He went out, leaving me alone in Frank’s office.

  I remembered the sagging plant outside and went to the window. Unlatching it, I pushed the panes outward and looked down at the grate. Maybe I could lower something down there. The curved end of a coat hanger, perhaps. No, the stake would slip out of it. I’d send someone to the store for a new stake instead. Sighing, I closed the window, slamming it, and the old loose latch fell into place. It was then I noticed the crack.

  It was a small crack, just a hairline fracture, down at the bottom of the left window panel. It was not really worth repairing. But it hadn’t been here when the board members had done their inspection of the premises before we took possession.

  I ran a finger over the crack, then went to sit in Frank’s swivel chair. I turned it and stared out at the courtyard and the drooping azalea plant.

  Once again I swiveled and looked up at the wall. At the now empty hook where Frank’s keys had hung: the keys to the alarm system and to the padlock at the end of the courtyard path. The keys that were missing. Those keys and their whereabouts at various times were crucial to the identification of Frank’s murderer. I tried to picture them, as I sat there in the chair that, barring disaster, would soon be mine.

  I sat there, picturing the murder and how it might have been done…

  If these pictures were accurate, they widened the spectrum of possible suspects. The killer had probably…

  “Elena?” Again Maria stood in the doorway.

  “Huh?” I looked up; I might have been seeing her for the first time.

  “Elena, it’s time to fix the food. Can you come-”

  “No.” I stood up.

  “You said you’d make the guacamole. Nobody makes it like you do.”

  “Sorry, Maria. I can’t do it. Ask Susana if she’ll come over. As I remember, hers is pretty good, too.”

  “But-”

  “And, look, I want you to remind everybody about the general meeting at four. I want everybody there-the staff, volunteers, and Jesse and Susana. I want everybody there who is going to help out tonight, so we can go over in detail what we have to do.”

  Maria frowned at me, disconcerted by my abrupt manner.

  “You’ve got that? Everybody.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll be back at four. We’ll meet in the office, around your desk. I’ll see you then.”

  I brushed by her and headed for the exit. I had a little over two hours to get hold of Lieutenant Kirk. And to get his cooperation in setting a trap.

  It shouldn’t be all that difficult to set one. And I was pretty sure Kirk would cooperate. Once he accepted that I wasn’t the killer, he’d be eager to identify and apprehend the guilty party. And he’d have to accept my innocence because I could now tell him how the killer had gotten out of the locked museum.

  fourteen

  The safest place to call Kirk from was my house, where no one could overhear. I drove home, nearly tripped over a bicycle that one of the neighborhood kids had left on my front walk, and rushed inside. After I dialed the police station, I drummed impatiently on the desk with my fingers as I waited for someone to answer.

  Lieutenant Kirk was not in.

  Well, where was he?

  The desk sergeant said I should leave a message and the lieutenant would get back to me.

  I left one. Urgent, it said.

  And then I sat down to think.

  A trap was called for, with or without Kirk’s cooperation. One that would point to the killer and no one else. I puzzled for a while, impatiently waiting for the phone to ring. Perhaps Kirk could come over here and we could plan together…

  The phone rang. I snatched it up. It was my mother.

  “Oh, good, you’re home. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, Mama.” I glanced at my watch. Two-fifty-five.

  “Did you see a doctor about your head?”

  “My head’s just fine.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, sometimes.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She ignored the question. “Elena, you shouldn’t take chances.”

  “Mama-”

  “After the opening, then. You’ll see the doctor.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “Promise.”

  “Yes! Look-”

  “What are you wearing to the opening?”

  What was I wearing? She was talking about clothes while I was practically being arrested for murder. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? It’s only the biggest event in the museum’s history.”

  A couple of weeks ago I had bought a fancy native costume. I hadn’t been sure about it; the damned thing looked like a wedding dress. But it was hanging in the closet, ready to go. “I do know. Don’t worry.”

  “Do you have a date?”

  What next? “Mama, I don’t need a date. I can’t have one. I’m the acting director, and I wouldn’t have time to pay any attention to a date.”

  “Oh.” She paused. “Well, Nick and I wil
l be there.”

  “Good. Look, Mama, I’ve got to go.”

  “I know. You’re busy. I’ll see you later. And afterward…”

  “Yes-my head.”‘ Now it really was pounding again. I hung up and breathed a sigh of relief, half expecting the phone to ring immediately. When it didn’t, I sat down in my rocker and planned some more. At this rate, I’d have it all worked out by the time Kirk called.

  I got up and went to the shelf where I kept my collection of silver milagros. The votive offerings, which are sold at many churches in Mexico, are an expression of our people’s relationship to the saints and the miracles they perform. You buy a milagro representing the part of the body where a healing has taken place and hang it on a velvet cloth in the church.

  The first milagro I took down from my shelf was an intricately wrought one I’d bought from an artist who had had a show at the museum last winter. It was a stylistic representation of a woman’s head, and I smiled at the irony of that, touching the cuts on my forehead.

  Turning, I glanced impatiently at the phone. Where was Kirk anyway? I went over and dialed, leaving a second message. Then I went to get a box for the milagros. When each was wrapped in its felt case and tucked into the box, I had nothing to do but wait.

  The phone rang again. This time it was my sister Carlota, calling from Minneapolis. She was worried about me, but not so worried that she hadn’t waited until the rates went down at five o’clock there. That reassured me.

  Without preamble, she said, “Mama tells me you were bashed on the head and the police suspect you of murdering Frank De Palma. Is it true, or is she just being dramatic?”

  “It’s true, but she’s being dramatic as well.”

  “She wants me to tell you to see a doctor.”

  I groaned.

  “I know. I’m just passing it on. How are you otherwise?”

  “Okay.”

  “Is everything set for the opening?”

  “Actually, no. Look, Carlota, can I call you back tomorrow when things are calmer?”

  “Sure. Listen, Elena, good luck with the opening. And you take care, okay?”

  “Okay. And I will call you.”‘ I hung up and went back to my chair. The minutes dragged by. Still no call from Kirk. Well, I didn’t need him to put the plan into operation, did I? He’d said he would be at the opening, so I could talk to him then.