“I hope you’ll find a problem for my sake. Every time the meter goes up, he looks at me like I did it.”
“If he’s losing water, it’s most likely the irrigation system. Also possible the leak’s in your service lateral, which is the underground pipe runs between the house and the meter out there. He says his is right there along the property line. Easier to get to before he put in that two-car garage. Once I find the shut-off valve, if the meter’s still running, means you got a problem somewhere between the two. Valve itself could have a leak; common with these older bronze gate valves.”
“Sounds like an expensive repair.”
“Can be. Most of those old galvanized iron pipes are sixty, seventy years old. You get a break, it’s costly to locate and even worse to replace. Sewer or water lines break on a homeowner’s property, it’s up to the homeowner to remedy the problem. It’s more like I do the fixing and the homeowner pays. Any rate, possible I won’t finish my inspection today, but I’ll be back first chance I get.”
31
Henry didn’t return with Edna until twenty minutes after one. I had to call the alarm company to push back the technician’s arrival by two hours, but I was at the office in time to let him in. I left him to go about his business with his drill, his ladder, and the wiring he had to run. He said he’d mount a panel near the front door and a second one in the kitchenette, assuring me he’d give me a quick lesson in its use when it was done. I found it distracting to have someone going in and out, but he was cheerful and he seemed efficient. The locksmith arrived shortly thereafter and changed the locks on both doors.
Cullen had been on the premises less than an hour when he paused to have a word. “Your friend’s here.”
“My friend?”
He pointed to the window behind me. “She pulled up a few minutes ago and she’s been checking the front door, so I figured she was waiting to pick you up. You want, I can tell her you’re on your way.”
I turned in my swivel chair and looked out. A silver-gray sedan was parked at the curb with a woman at the wheel. I didn’t recognize the car. She’d parked on the near side of the street instead of the far side, so I couldn’t see her well enough to determine if she was someone I knew. Cullen was correct about her interest. She leaned forward and studied the front of the bungalow. All I saw was long, dark hair. April? I sat for a moment more and finally got up. “I’ll go see what she wants.”
I went down the walk, and as I approached the car, she lowered the window on the passenger side. I leaned forward and rested my hands on the open window. “You’re April.”
“I am, and I came to apologize for yesterday. I had no idea my dad would call the sheriff’s department.”
Up close, I could see what a sweet face she had: large brown eyes, a hesitant smile. A swathe of freckles lay across her nose and fanned out over her cheeks. She’d had to slide her seat back to accommodate her belly.
“That was irksome, but no harm done,” I said. “You want to come in?”
“Would it be all right if we talked out here? I’ve been watching those guys go in and out and I’d prefer privacy.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“You gave your name on the phone. You also said you were a private investigator, so I looked you up in the yellow pages. I would have called, but I was afraid you wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Does your father know you’re here?”
She laughed. “I hope not. Is this a good time to talk? I don’t want to interrupt if you’re in the middle of something.”
“This is fine. Why don’t you give me a minute and I’ll bring out the mailing pouch?”
“Thank you. I’d be grateful.”
I returned to my office. The technician was somewhere in the back of the bungalow, whistling as he worked. I pulled the carpet aside, dialed the combination to the safe, and opened it. I retrieved the mailing pouch and then went through the reverse of the operation, closing the safe again and rolling the carpet into place.
By the time I reached April’s car the second time, she had opened the door on the passenger side, allowing me to slide right in. Before I could give her the mailer, she held up a hand.
“Let me say this first. I should have known better than to call my dad. He’s touchy where my mother’s concerned. I’m really sorry.”
“You had a right to be suspicious. We’ve all heard about scams that target the bereaved,” I said. “Usually not twenty-eight years after the fact, but there you have it.”
She laughed. “I couldn’t believe he dialed 9-1-1. That was absurd.”
I could see she was still intent on her apologies, so I headed her off. “Now that we’ve acknowledged the issue, let’s not go on trading apologies. Peace. Truce. All is forgiven,” I said. I held out the mailing pouch, which she accepted.