Beware False Profits Part 13

"Cilla, tell Aggie what you told me today," Lucy said.

Cilla popped the tab on her Dr. Pepper and more or less poured it down her throat. Everything about this woman seemed larger than life. I liked her already.

"I don't want this going any further," she warned when the can was half empty.

"You can trust Aggie. And she knows the Wagners. She and Joe are friends."

I had expected this conversation to be about Hazel. I was surprised, but not as surprised as when she began to speak.

"I think Joe Wagner's in trouble. Either that or he's missing."

I looked at Lucy, who raised one delicate auburn brow.

I opened my Sprite and managed to spray my blouse. "What makes you think so?"

"The story that's going around says Joe's off taking care of his dying mother. Only I happen to know he's an orphan. He told me once he doesn't have any family at all. I know I remember it right. It seemed so sad."

"Okay." I nodded. "So what do you think's going on?"

"I don't know, but I wonder if we ought to go to the police. Mrs. Kefauver's dead. Maybe something terrible's happened to Joe, too."

"Or maybe he's just taking some time off."

"Aggie, if that's the truth, why would his wife lie about this?" Lucy demanded. "Unless maybe she had something to do with his disappearance."

"Maura?" I nearly blew Sprite out my nostrils. Cilla helpfully pounded me on the back.

"Well, she's spreading lies," Lucy said when I was breathing naturally again.

I could see Cilla going to the police. She struck me as someone who got things done. If she thought Joe was in trouble, she would march right up to the station and make sure she was heard. I had to level with her, at least a little.

"Joe is missing," I said. "Maura called Ed last weekend when we were in New York. Joe was supposed to be at a meeting there, but he never came home."

"Funds for Food," Cilla said in her musical alto. "He goes every month."

I didn't contradict her. Nothing would be gained by telling the whole truth.

"We were able to trace him to a club he'd visited," I told them. "People there remembered him and said he wasn't feeling well and left. n.o.body saw him afterwards. But he did call Maura. The problem is he used his cell phone and the call was breaking up. She doesn't know what he said, and there haven't been more calls."

"And she hasn't phoned the police?" Cilla said. "She probably doesn't know how to dial the d.a.m.ned phone!"

Since I'd thought something like that last weekend, I couldn't fault Cilla, but I did have to defend Maura.

"Look, she's trying to protect Joe. That's all. She's afraid if she tells the truth, that he vanished right before the most important work event of the year, his job won't be waiting when he returns. She thinks he may have had something of a breakdown and needs some time to recover." I caught Cilla's eye. "Does that sound reasonable?"

She considered. "Maybe."

"Have things been tough at work? Maura said he was working late a lot." I chewed over the next sentence, but in the end, I decided I had to ask. "Or were things tough at home? That you know of anyway?"

"Joe never talked about home. Oh, he talked about Tyler a lot. He's so proud of that kid, but he never said anything much about Maura or what their life was like." She took another swig. "Joe's the best guy in the world. He's 100 percent responsible. I just can't see him walking away on the weekend of Mayday! Something's happened to him. I just know it."

Here was the angst, the fear that was missing when we talked to Maura. Cilla was clearly more emotionally involved with Joe than his own wife. I know people react differently, express themselves differently, but this seemed like a clear signal that Cilla was too fond of her boss and that Joe's marriage hadn't been a bed of roses. Either he and Maura were so estranged she hardly missed him, or she was simply not a woman who felt much for anyone. I was betting on the first, because the Maura who had begun to emerge in our last encounters was a warmer, smarter Maura than I had known before.

Lucy took her turn as detective. "How about work?"

"Work's been a bear." Cilla slapped her empty can on the step beside her. "Hazel Kefauver-may she rest in peace and never wake up-was making it impossible to get anything done. She was always after him about something. Electing that woman chairman of the board was the worst thing that ever happened to us. She was trying to single-handedly dismantle everything Joe worked so hard to build. He had to work extra hours just to keep her at bay."

There was an edge to Cilla's voice that was sharp enough to amputate a limb. No question Hazel Kefauver had been on her personal hit list.

"What kind of things did they fight about?" I asked.

"Everything. Nutrition. Donations. Policy. Hazel had strong opinions about everything. She more or less wanted the food bank to be there for emergencies only. She thought if a family came in more than once or twice, then it was clear they weren't working to help themselves and ought to be cut off. And when people did deserve food, she wanted them to eat the way she dictated. She said if they were hungry enough..." She didn't finish and didn't have to.

I remembered a story I'd heard about donations of powdered milk to an African village. Milk hadn't been part of a normal diet, so the villagers had used it to whitewash their huts. I didn't know if this was true, but it was a powerful example of how not to help others.

"The best way to make a difference is to let the people who need the help make the decisions," I said. "And I bet your clients aren't voting for wheatgra.s.s juice."

"Our clients aren't voting. Hazel scared away two men who were representing the homeless on the board. Or I should say she angered them so much they left in protest. Joe was furious. I've never seen him that angry."

I smashed my empty can, and both women jumped. "When was that?"

"Not long ago. The last board meeting." Cilla counted. "Two weeks?"

"Was the feeling mutual?" I rubbed my balled fist on the leg of my jeans. I'd enjoyed smas.h.i.+ng the can, but I was paying the price. "Did Hazel dislike Joe as much as he seems to have disliked her?"

"Hazer-that's what we called her when she wasn't around. The Old Hazer, may she rot in h.e.l.l. Anyway, Hazer wanted Joe out of there. She was always snooping in his office when he wasn't around. I couldn't really kick her out, but I made sure she knew I was watching. I caught her once sitting at my desk going through his papers, and I told her if anything turned up missing I would report her, even if she fired me. But she had keys to the building, so G.o.d knows how many times she was there when I wasn't. Way too often things were disturbed on my desk."

"This wasn't a good job situation," Lucy said. "Poor Joe Wagner."

"I don't think he was happy." Cilla looked at me. "And I don't mean just because of Hazer. I don't think he was happy at home. There, I've said it, and I'll say this, too"-her eyes glistened suspiciously-"She doesn't deserve Joe. Maura, I mean. He's something special, and he needs somebody who realizes it."

I didn't look at Lucy, but I knew what she was thinking. That's what happens when you have a best friend, even when you're not in high school anymore.

Both Lucy and I know the sounds of a woman hopelessly in love. Cher expresses it perfectly in "Song for the Lonely." But for all kinds of reasons, I wasn't going to sing that now.

I stopped by the Wagners' on the way home. The dolls were dressed as if they were on safari, with the male doll carrying a b.u.t.terfly net. I hoped Ida Bere didn't live in the Village.

Maura let me in and led me to the kitchen. The house smelled peachy today; every surface glistened. I wondered if she ever slept.

Tyler was chatting nearby, and when I didn't hear another voice, I realized he was probably on the telephone. I'm still young enough to remember having similar conversations at his age. Uh-huh. Not really. You think? So how come? I recognized Tyler's end of the conversation as the standard guy responses. I was pretty sure there was a girl on the other end doing most of the work.

I was afraid I knew which girl it was, too. My fingers itched to turn on my cell phone and call home to see if our line was busy. But the possibility I might accidentally dial the White House was the cure I needed.

"I can't stay," I told Maura, who was wearing sunny daffodil gold, "but you said you had something you wanted to give me?"

"That's right. I'll get it."

I didn't sit, since I really did want to get home and check on my daughters. Okay, just check on one, but boy, did I want to do that immediately.

Something was baking in the oven and I peeked through the door. I hoped it wasn't something that was going to send poor Tyler's blood sugar through the roof.

She came back carrying a manila folder and held it out to me. "I did what you asked. I searched through Joseph's papers to see if there were any bills or receipts that might lead to finding him. But he must pay the bills and file them at work, and I didn't find a single receipt that wasn't for groceries or Tyler's insulin."

I took the folder. "So what's this?"

"I don't know. It's a bunch of newspaper clippings. I found them on the top shelf on his side of the closet, in a shoe box where his boots are supposed to be. Don't you think that's odd?"

I leafed through the yellowing newsprint, but at first glance nothing jumped out at me. There seemed to be a variety of stories, and a couple of ads. I did note that they had been clipped in such a way that I couldn't tell what newspaper or newspapers they had come from.

"May I take these home and check through them?"

"Of course, but bring them back. I don't want Joe to know I was snooping."

"Um, Maura, if you weren't snooping, that would be worth keeping from him. He's missing. Looking for him isn't a bad thing."

"I suppose." Her eyes were sad. Her lips actually drooped. "This is so hard. I don't know what I should do and what I should wait for him to do. Tyler reminded me he always goes to camp in August. It's a special camp for diabetic kids. Anyway, I know a lot of paperwork has to be filled out. Only I don't know where it is, or where Joseph keeps Tyler's medical records. When he comes back I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."

"Well, that makes sense. You're ent.i.tled." I looked up. "Can you call the camp and ask how far along the application is?"

"And what do I say about Joseph?"

"Just tell them he asked you to take over."

"I guess I could." She hesitated. "And I could call the doctor and ask for copies of Tyler's records, too."

I patted her arm. "You have to be proactive. Do anything you can, and if Joe complains when he gets back, sock him."

She giggled, and I felt pleased I'd been the cause. I guess it's nice to be needed.

"If I'm going to be proactive, I have a favor to ask you," Maura said.

I wasn't sure I liked that as much as the giggle. "If I can help, I will."

"I'm worried something's going to happen to Tyler at school when I'm not at home to catch the call. When Joseph's here, it's not a problem. The school calls him, and if he's out, they call me. But now I need backup. Plus if I run into a problem some afternoon and can't be here when Tyler's expected, somebody needs to make sure he tests and does his shots. You wouldn't have to do them, you would just have to be sure they got done."

"So you'd like me to be available?"

"Would you mind, Aggie? I have friends, but they aren't the sort of people I can ask. They're just into other things. I'd like you to have our key, just to be safe."

Despite myself, I was flattered. "I can do that. I'll be glad to help."

"If you're going to help me, then I need to help you, don't I? That's the way this works."

I was doubly proud of her. "Let's exchange house keys. If I run into an emergency and my girls need help, I can call you."

Okay, so I wasn't as trusting as I sounded. For a variety of reasons I felt completely safe doing this. One, I had both Junie and Ed as backup. Plus Lucy, and mothers of Deena and Teddy's friends and close friends from church. My girls were never going to feel abandoned, and Maura was never going to be called on to take responsibility for them.

Two, half the people in the church already seemed to have parsonage keys. Once I walked in my own house to find an older man who didn't look familiar checking our furnace. Apparently he'd been watching over it for years and felt it was his right to walk right in anytime he wanted to change the filters. I've been trying to convince Ed to change the locks.

"I like that." Maura smiled with real warmth. "Let me get you a front door key."

While she was gone I fished in my purse for my own key. I could put one of our spares on my chain when I got home. Or I could ask furnace guy to fork his over.

She returned with a key chained to a hand-beaded elephant. The beads were bright red and blue, and I guessed that Maura had taken an entire afternoon of her life to craft this keychain. "It's darling." I took it and turned it over. "Did you do this?"

"African trade beads. I love working with them. I'm glad you like it. It's yours to keep."

I was touched. I thanked her, and she seemed pleased. She walked me to the front door and once we were out of the kitchen I heard Tyler say. "Yeah, I don't like language lab, either." Then, "No way!"

"I think Tyler might have a girlfriend," Maura said as she opened the front door to usher me out.

I stopped on the porch and turned, avoiding the b.u.t.terfly net as best I could. "Does he talk to you about it?"

"He's never talked a lot. He's a quiet boy."

I didn't counsel her to ask Tyler about the girlfriend. My relations.h.i.+p with Maura was tentative enough already. I didn't want her to begin thinking of me as an in-law.

10.

Maybe it was the heavy burden of so many questions to answer. Or maybe it was pawing through all that germ-laden merchandise in the toy room. Or maybe it was just my usual spring allergies. But when I woke up the next morning I didn't want to raise my head off the pillow. The ceiling was as much as I wanted to see of the world. My nose itched, my eyes watered, and overnight my joints had gone on strike. I felt as washed-out and worn-out as one of Hazel Kefauver's sweaters. In the rummage sale of life, I would be relegated to the bargain table.

"Ag?"

I turned and saw Ed standing over me, dressed in sweats.

"Is our will up-to-date?" I croaked.

"Not feeling too hot?"

"What time is it?"

"The girls are at school. Junie's over at the Victorian working on her garden. I was going for a run, but if you need me..."

I pushed up to rest on my elbows. "I'll be fine. At the most I'm getting a cold. It's Monday, right?"

"That's what the paper claims."

"What are your plans?"

"Something tells me they aren't going to include you. Don't worry, I'll entertain myself. I might head over to the college and do some research."