X (Kinsey Millhone 24)

“As often as I’ve complained about high water usage, it never occurred to you to see what that hose bib was attached to?”

“Why would it occur to me? I don’t know anything about plumbing. I don’t know anything about gardening or yard maintenance. I’m doing the best I can to handle the care of a disabled husband. We had nothing to do with it.”

“Of course you did. Dale Adelson didn’t install that line,” I said.

“I don’t know your Mr. Adelson, but the hose bib has to be his handiwork because it certainly isn’t ours.”

Henry pointed in the direction of the hose bib. “The first time we met, you were huddled right there, burying your little doggie, or so you claimed. I said hello over the fence and that’s when you told me she died. I felt sorry for you. You were probably tapping into my line right then.”

“We did not put in that T. We knew nothing about it until this very minute. My husband and I are both old and he’s been ill and we live on a fixed income, which provides barely enough to get by as it is. We are honorable people doing the best we can, and I can’t believe you’d suggest we were in any way responsible. You surely can’t suspect my poor husband of any tomfoolery when he’s confined to a wheelchair and has been for the past six years.”

I raised a tentative hand to refute that bit about Joseph’s being confined to a wheelchair since I’d seen him amble around the house in the most casual manner imaginable. I lowered my hand again, thinking this was probably not the moment to speak up.

Henry’s face was stony, but he was having the same difficulty I was in forming a response to someone making such categorical denials in that string of declarative sentences. “My water bill has doubled,” he said, outraged. “You’ve watched me tear up my yard trying to correct the problem. And that’s all you have to say?”

“What else would you have me say? Your allegations are completely false and I will not put up with it.”

Henry turned to the plumber. “Thank you, Mr. McClaskey. Leave that as it is for the time being. I’ll want photographs.” Then he walked to his back door, banging it shut behind him as he went in.

Edna stood her ground. “I have never in my life been addressed in such a manner. We’ve been the best neighbors we know how, and all we get in return is spite. He has slandered us. He has tarnished our name and our good reputation. I intend to call our attorney and report this. I wouldn’t be surprised if he urged us to file suit.”

She looked from one of us to the other, but neither Mr. McClaskey nor I had anything to say.

“Now I suppose I’ll have to tell Joseph what’s happened. He’ll be distraught. We both thought the world of Mr. Pitts. I can’t believe the man could be so swift to judge and so unwilling to consider the facts.”

She turned and walked down the driveway with as much dignity as she could muster. Mr. McClaskey and I exchanged one of those looks that confirmed we were both of the same opinion. The Shallenbargers had been pulling a fast one, never expecting to get caught and called on it.

37

For a merry change of pace, I bypassed the office and drove to Montebello Luxury Properties. I couldn’t help but wonder what the fallout would be from the Shallenbargers’ thievery. There was no way Henry would recoup his losses, which probably hadn’t even reached the dollar amount that distinguished petit theft from grand. Henry would take photographs, Mr. McClaskey would remove the T connection, and that would be that. From my perspective the discovery of the illegal tap was a boon. The sticky buns and cheery chats across the fence had come to an end, and there would be no more shopping expeditions for Edna. I wouldn’t even have to argue with Henry about my dim view of the pair. My only reservation stemmed from the suspicion that we hadn’t seen the last of them. Scoundrels, even elderly ones, are remarkably resilient and not so easily defeated.

When I reached the real estate office, I parked in the tiny lot and let myself in the front door. The shopkeeper’s bell jingled.

At the reception desk, Kim was smoothing one fingernail with an emery board. She looked up with an expression of anticipation, which turned only slightly sour at the sight of me. She was wary—not quite hostile, but certainly not cocky and superior as she’d been on our first encounter. Since I’d been so warmly welcomed by the company’s top producer, she was probably hesitant to treat me with the same condescension.

I crossed to her desk. “Hi, Kim. Remember me?”

“Yes.”

I could hear the word “unfortunately,” which she’d left out. I said, “Good. I need a meeting with Teddy and I’d appreciate it if you’d give her a call to set it up.”