He opens the door to the outer office and sees Holly sitting at her desk, playing computer solitaire. Beside her is a bag filled with enough energy bars to feed the four of them during a zombie siege. “Come in here, Hols,” he says. “I need you. And bring those.”
Holly steps in tentatively, checks Tina Saubers out, and seems relieved by what she sees. Each of the girls takes an energy bar, which seems to relieve her even more. Hodges takes one himself. The salad he had for lunch seems to have gone down the hatch a month ago, and the veggie burger hasn’t really stuck to his ribs, either. Sometimes he still dreams of going to Mickey D’s and ordering everything on the menu.
“This is good,” Barbara says, munching. “I got raspberry. What’d you get, Teens?”
“Lemon,” she says. “It is good. Thank you, Mr. Hodges. Thank you, Ms. Holly.”
“Barb,” Holly says, “where does your mom think you are now?”
“Movies,” Barbara says. “Frozen again, the sing-along version. It plays every afternoon at Cinema Seven. It’s been there like for-ev-er.” She rolls her eyes at Tina, who rolls hers in complicity. “Mom said we could take the bus home, but we have to be back by six at the very latest. Tina’s staying over.”
That gives us a little time, Hodges thinks. “Tina, I want you to tell it all again, so Holly can hear. She’s my assistant, and she’s smart. Plus, she can keep a secret.”
Tina goes through it again, and in more detail now that she’s calmer. Holly listens closely, her Asperger’s-like tics mostly disappearing as they always do when she’s fully engaged. All that remains are her restlessly moving fingers, tapping her thighs as if she’s working at an invisible keyboard.
When Tina has come to the end, Holly asks, “The money started coming in February of 2010?”
“February or March,” Tina says. “I remember, because our folks were fighting a lot then. Daddy lost his job, see . . . and his legs were all hurt . . . and Mom used to yell at him about smoking, how much his cigarettes cost . . .”
“I hate yelling,” Holly says matter-of-factly. “It makes me sick in my stomach.”
Tina gives her a grateful look.
“The conversation about the doubloons,” Hodges puts in. “Was that before or after the money-train started to roll?”
“Before. But not long before.” She gives the answer with no hesitation.
“And it was five hundred every month,” Holly says.
“Sometimes the time was a little shorter than that, like three weeks, and sometimes it was a little longer. When it was more than a month, my folks would think it was over. Once I think it was like six weeks, and I remember Daddy saying to Mom, ‘Well, it was good while it lasted.’”
“When was that?” Holly’s leaning forward, eyes bright, fingers no longer tapping. Hodges loves it when she’s like this.
“Mmm . . .” Tina frowns. “Around my birthday, for sure. When I was twelve. Pete wasn’t there for my party. It was spring vacation, and his friend Rory invited him to go to Disney World with their family. That was a bad birthday, because I was so jealous he got to go and I . . .”
She stops, looking first at Barbara, then at Hodges, finally at Holly, upon whom she seems to have imprinted as Mama Duck. “That’s why it was late that time! Isn’t it? Because he was in Florida!”
Holly glances at Hodges with just the slightest smile edging her lips, then returns her attention to Tina. “Probably. Always twenties and fifties?”
“Yes. I saw it lots of times.”
“And it ran out when?”
“Last September. Around the time school started. There was a note that time. It said something like, ‘This is the last of it, I’m sorry there isn’t more.’”
“And how long after that was it when you told your brother you thought he was the one sending the money?”
“Not very long. And he never exactly admitted it, but I know it was him. And maybe this is all my fault because I kept talking to him about Chapel Ridge . . . and he said he wished the money wasn’t all gone so I could go . . . and maybe he did something stupid and now he’s sorry, and it’s too l-l-late!”
She starts crying again. Barbara enfolds her and makes comforting sounds. Holly’s finger-tapping resumes, but she shows no other signs of distress; she’s lost in her thoughts. Hodges can almost see the wheels turning. He has his own questions, but for the time being, he’s more than willing to let Holly take the lead.
When Tina’s weeping is down to sniffles, Holly says, “You said you came in one night and he had a notebook he acted guilty about. He put it under his pillow.”
“That’s right.”
“Was that near the end of the money?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“Was it one of his school notebooks?”
“No. It was black, and looked expensive. Also, it had an elastic strap that went around the outside.”
“Jerome has notebooks like that,” Barbara said. “They’re made of moleskin. May I have another energy bar?”
“Knock yourself out,” Hodges tells her. He grabs a pad from his desk and jots Moleskine. Then, returning his attention to Tina: “Could it have been an accounts book?”
Tina frowns in the act of peeling the wrapper from her own energy bar. “I don’t get you.”
“It’s possible he was keeping a record of how much he’d paid out and how much was left.”
“Maybe, but it looked more like a fancy diary.”
Holly is looking at Hodges. He tips her a nod: Continue.
“This is all good, Tina. You’re a terrific witness. Don’t you think so, Bill?”
He nods.
“So, okay. When did he grow his moustache?”
“Last month. Or maybe it was the end of April. Mom and Daddy both told him it was silly, Daddy said he looked like a drugstore cowboy, whatever that is, but he wouldn’t shave it off. I thought it was just something he was going through.” She turns to Barbara. “You know, like when we were little and you tried to cut your hair yourself to look like Hannah Montana’s.”
Barbara grimaces. “Please don’t talk about that.” And to Hodges: “My mother hit the roof.”
“And since then, he’s been upset,” Holly says. “Since the moustache.”
“Not so much at first, although I could tell he was nervous even then. It’s really only been the last couple of weeks that he’s been scared. And now I’m scared! Really scared!”
Hodges checks to see if Holly has more. She gives him a look that says Over to you.
“Tina, I’m willing to look into this, but it has to begin with talking to your brother. You know that, right?”
“Yes,” she whispers. She carefully places her second energy bar, with only one bite gone, on the arm of the sofa. “Oh my God, he’ll be so mad at me.”
“You might be surprised,” Holly says. “He might be relieved that someone finally forced the issue.”
Holly, Hodges knows, is the voice of experience in this regard.
“Do you think so?” Tina asks. Her voice is small.
“Yes.” Holly gives a brisk nod.