The Heirloom Murders - Kathleen Ernst [56]
“Is there some problem, sir?”
“Damn straight there’s a problem. Hasn’t showed up for work for the last two days. Didn’t even call in.”
The other mechanic on duty began loosening a Chevy’s lug nuts with an impact wrench. Roelke shouted, “Has he been a reliable employee in the past?”
“Been late a bunch of times. Knew his way around an engine, though, so I’ve been willing to give him a chance. But this shit? Unless he’s got a damn good excuse, I’m gonna fire his sorry ass.”
“Thanks for your time,” Roelke said. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
He headed back to Eagle. Alex Padopolous had been AWOL for two days. That meant he’d disappeared right about the time someone had almost killed Chloe in Dellyn Burke’s barn.
Forty minutes later Roelke pulled back into Sonia Padopolous’s driveway. Time to pay Mama another visit.
This time Sonia answered the front door, and greeted him with a startled “Oh!” She did not invite him in. Or offer him cookies, thank God.
Roelke gave her his polite cop smile. “I’m sorry to bother you again, Mrs. Padopolous. May I come inside?”
“Is something wrong?” She kept her body wedged in the small opening she’d created when opening the door.
“I don’t know, ma’am. I had hoped to speak to your son this morning. But Alex’s neighbors and his boss haven’t seen him in two days.”
“Why do you want to speak to Alex?” Sonia’s voice quavered.
“I need to ask him some questions. When was the last time you saw him?”
“Saw Alex? Well, let me think.” She stared over his shoulder for a moment, as if a response required a mighty effort. “A week or so ago, I guess. Closer to two. I was running some errands in Waukesha and stopped by his apartment.”
“Have you spoken to him since then? Has he telephoned?”
She shook her head emphatically. “No. That’s not unusual. He … he gets busy.”
“Do you have any idea where he might be?”
“No.”
“Do you have the names of any friends I might call?”
“No, I don’t. I’m sorry. I—I really can’t help you.” Sonia closed the door. The deadbolt rattled, as if she feared Roelke might follow her.
Well, hunh, Roelke thought, as he headed back to the squad car. Sonia Padopolous was a terrible liar.
_____
That evening, Chloe took one last look around the living room. Flat surfaces swiped with a dust cloth, kitten toys mostly returned to their basket—check. Fresh-baked cheese straws, chocolate-dipped strawberries, napkins, and wine goblets arrayed on the trunk/coffee table—check.
When Libby had talked Chloe into joining the little “wine and whine” writers’ circle, she’d been dubious. To her surprise, she actually enjoyed the gatherings. At their last meeting Chloe had impulsively offered to host. It was the first time she’d hosted any gathering since leaving Switzerland. She didn’t want to go nuts. But it would be nice if the evening went well.
Besides, Valerie Bing was coming. She and the writing group members would be getting acquainted, but Chloe wanted to find out what Valerie might know about the Eagle Diamond that had not made it into her article.
She slapped her palms on her jeans. “I think we’re good to go,” she told Olympia.
Olympia urped a hairball onto the carpet. Chloe had just enough time to clean up before the first car pulled into the driveway.
Fifteen minutes later the regulars were settled in: Libby, who earned her living as a freelance writer; Hilda, retired schoolteacher and poet; and Gina, a plump mother-of-three who wrote science fiction novels. “Is Dellyn coming?” Gina asked.
Libby shook her head. “I tried to talk her into it.”
“How about you?” Gina asked Chloe. “Do you have anything to share this time?”
“No,” Chloe said guiltily. She had been well into her first historical novel when she lived in Switzerland, but she’d burned it when she and Markus broke up. “Want a strawberry?”
Hilda looked over pale blue half-glasses reprovingly. “Writers write, Chloe. You can revise bad writing. You can’t do anything