Tipping Point

By S. K. O'Connell

When Philip and Jeff fall in love, they soon realize love comes with a hefty price tag. Philip's successful career requires much of his time, and Jeff reacts with mysterious and troubling antics. Both men struggle to maintain their relationship. Add to that the unsolved murder of Jeff's beloved childhood nanny, with veteran Officer Tillman and n

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sid O
• Release date: Oct 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988978107

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Tipping_Point_Front_Cover_eBook.jpg

Copyright © 2023 by Sid O’Connell

Bellingham, WA

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Control Number: 20211912454

ISBN: 978-0-578938-68-4 (Paperback)

ISBN: 979-8-9889781-0-7 (eBook)

Editor: Nancy Tupper

Cover design: Scott Book

Book design: Melissa Vail Coffman

Printed in the USA by Village Books

[e-mail]

To David, for his sense of purpose; for his courage to stand with those who were different, whether it be the color of their skin or who they loved; for entering the fight despite the risks; and for all the laughter and joy he brought to me. You are still missed.

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First, I must acknowledge my parents, who gave me one of the greatest gifts anyone can give their children: I was taught to never give up and never take no as the answer to a dream. They also valued and fully supported my education. I am eternally grateful.

I give special thanks to Nancy, my editor, who taught me to keep the story line straight, no unnecessary tangents. She had the patience to listen to some of my ifs and buts, and she made sure I got her message.

And to Judy, my proofreader, who also paid attention to how the narrative flowed. She had no problem pushing me to explain what didn’t make sense to her. Thank you, Judy.

Finally, my thanks to Melissa and Scott, of Book House Publishing, who handled formatting and designed a great cover for the book.

ONE

Philip was returning to his home in Venoso after a meeting with one of his commercial architecture clients in Malibu. It was a major project, and his client had signed off on it. He decided to stop by his friend’s Java Caf é in downtown Venoso. Philip had met Daniel when he was recommended for designing a new interior for the café.

He parked his Ferrari in front of the café and noticed Daniel sitting at one of the outdoor tables.

Daniel, I need to talk to you about Jeff . . . if you have time now?

I was about to call you because I have some information on the disappearance of your other half, Jeff. But it needs to be a private conversation so let’s go to my office.

Okay! replied Philip with an edge in his voice.

As Philip entered the office, he noticed two gin and tonics sitting on a small table between two chairs.

Have a seat, Philip, said Dan, as Philip’s stomach started churning acid.

Alright, is he dead? he asked in a flat voice tone and a taut facial expression.

Possibly, but I think not. I got a phone call from Surrey, British Columbia, this morning. It was from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. They found an abandoned vehicle on Highway 5, about 30 miles south of Merritt, which means it was headed to Vancouver. The vehicle had skidded off the highway and rolled down the embankment and struck a tree. There was no body in the car or adjacent to the car. They found a small suitcase with some clothes in the back seat and the vehicle registration was with the car. It’s Jeff’s car, Philip, and he sat down on the other chair and his eyes never left Philip’s face.

Philip’s facial features froze and then he reached for the gin and tonic and took a sip. The silence was palpable.

Finally, Philip responded, How did they get your phone number, and was there any blood on the driver’s seat or anywhere in the vehicle?

"They found a scrap of paper crumpled up on the passenger seat. It was a receipt from here. The date was about five days after he left my café. And there was no blood inside or outside the vehicle. Keep in mind, there had been a heavy rain that night. But I think he could be alive. Ann Crawford, my lead waitress here, mentioned that she had a brief conversation with him when he came in that morning.

I told the officer that the car they found was your partner’s car. And you had filed a missing person’s report on Jeff close to a month ago. And I gave him your cell number and address. He said they will give you a call tomorrow morning.

Philip nodded his head and said, You did the right thing giving them my phone number, Daniel. Jeff is a survivor for sure. When I think of his catalogue of stupid stunts it is amazing he is still alive. Philip’s face relaxed and he let out a soft sigh of relief.

Daniel, I knew you wondered how Jeff and I have made it this far. I know it must sound like I’m as crazy as he is sometimes. But the bottom line is simple. I love him despite myself.

Philip is strictly business with a first-class analytical mind. His eyes are an incredible blue that pull me into his square jawed face. His voice is deep and has striking resonance. When he speaks he can dominate any discussion if he chooses to. With his incredible, black, curly head of hair, he could have his choice of anyone. . . . Why Jeff? That’s a hell of a mystery, thought Daniel.

Thanks for making this day brighter than the last twenty-eight days. Well, I can go home now and enjoy having something to eat.

Twenty minutes later Philip pulled up to his home. Twilight was beginning to make its appearance and he had just started to fix something to eat when his cell phone buzzed.

Philip, it’s me. I need you to come to my place, ASAP.

What happened, Jeff?

Just get here!

Christ, what did he get himself into now? thought Philip.

When he pulled up to Jeff’s home, he noticed there was no car in the driveway, and when he got to the front door it was unlocked. His sense of unease increased.

As he walked through the front door, he noticed a set of car rental keys in the saucer on the foyer’s accent table.

Jeff, I’m here, he yelled, but there was no response except for the sound of music coming from the master bedroom upstairs.

Typical. He has really screwed something up, he thought.

When he entered the master bedroom Jeff was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked like a tramp, his eyes blood shot and his clothes disheveled. He smelled like he had sweated profusely but never changed his clothes.

Jeff, what’s going on? Philip asked as he approached Jeff.

Jeff pointed to the walk-in closet.

Okay, he said as he scratched the back of his head and walked toward the closet. Feeling suddenly a little nauseous he stopped, turned around, and looked at Jeff.

"Did you throw-up in there?

There was no answer.

Be a jerk, Jeff," he thought, and he turned around and flipped the closet’s light switch on. His facial expression froze and his right hand jerked toward his mouth and then the gut-wrenching dry heaves struck and he backed out of the closet.

My God, it’s Ruth’s body, said Philip as he turned around and stared at Jeff.

I didn’t kill her. Jesus Christ, she raised me. You’ve got to believe me! yelled Jeff as he stood up.

She called me before I left for Vancouver. She wanted to talk to me about some crazy memory tied to a box. But it didn’t make any sense. I stopped at Daniel’s Java Café and got a coffee for her and me. Then I stopped at her place. When we were done, I went on to Vancouver. She was fine when I left her place.

Jeff, call the police . . . now!

I need to take a shower first and get rid of these sweaty clothes.

Don’t because you’ll leave the impression that you tidied up a crime scene. They are going to have some questions for you. Give them factual answers and don’t speculate.

Jeff made the call and finally convinced them it wasn’t a joke. When Jeff sat down he found Philip’s eyes staring at him.

Understand they will probably ask you why you went to British Columbia. And Ruth’s body showing up in your home would qualify you as a person of interest. Don’t get flippant, Jeff.

We should take her body down, said Jeff.

Didn’t you hear me? This room is a crime scene. Don’t touch anything else in this room and that includes the closet. There is nothing you can do for Ruth. If they ask for your fingerprints don’t act like a jerk. And don’t get belligerent. Check your sarcastic mouth if you don’t like their questions, replied Philip.

All right, I got your message. Any other directives? asked Jeff in a sarcastic manner.

No, but I know you. And when you get boxed in you can get belligerent and sarcastic. You need to be straight with the police. They may ask you how your car ended up on Highway 5 in British Columbia. And it would be better to explain that now than later.

Slowly Jeff’s back straightened up.

How did you know that?

Because the Royal Canadian Mounted Police found your car off the highway and down an embankment. It was saying hello to one big tree. They found your registration and a coffee receipt from Dan’s Java Café and called him. And he talked to me.

There was no further conversation until officers Tillman and Anderson knocked on the front door.

I’ll get it, replied Philip. Don’t sulk.

He opened the door and introduced himself.

I’m Philip Shannon and Jeff is my partner. He phoned me before he called you. He is upstairs and I will take you there. The victim is Ruth Rosen who was his nanny. She was his parent in many ways. His parents were gone frequently. This has been an incredible shock for him and me.

When you say your partner, you mean you two are hooked up together, right? asked the younger officer.

I’m glad to see your awareness includes the twenty-first century, replied Philip with a straight face.

His older partner looked at his fellow officer, whose facial expression told him to keep his mouth shut.

Jeff and I attended the same high school and became close friends. A couple of years after graduating we tied the knot. I’m letting you know this now should you wonder about some of the photos in this house.

As they stepped into the master bedroom Philip said, Jeff, these two officers are from homicide.

In there, Jeff said as he pointed to the walk-in closet. The light is still on. I haven’t touched the body. The closet door was shut when I opened it to get some clean clothes, said Jeff.

"First, let me introduce myself and my partner. I am Officer Tillman and my partner is Officer Anderson.

Are you up to answering some more questions? asked Tillman.

Yes.

Were the front and back doors locked when you came home? asked Anderson.

I don’t know. I came through the door that opens from the garage to the kitchen. I was so tired I just wanted to get some sleep. I flopped down on the bed and fell asleep. A couple of hours later I woke up and went to the closet to get some clean clothes before I showered. I flipped the light on and there was Ruth’s body hanging from the ceiling light fixture and I threw up. I almost touched her body . . . and I vomited. I called you, and then I called Philip and asked him to come over without explaining why. I need a cup of coffee.

Philip knew that was a lie but said nothing.

Just a couple of questions more for now? replied Tillman and then continuing, Was there anything out of place or unusual you remember seeing as you entered the house and went upstairs?

No, but I was pretty tired and just wanted to get some sleep.

Was your bedroom door open or shut or any windows open?

No, the bedroom door was open, but it usually is when I’m here.

Just for clarification, Jeff. When you left your home, you left the door open?

Yes.

And once you saw the body, you sat down on the edge of the bed and didn’t touch anything else except your cell phone to call Philip.

Yes.

And Philip, you haven’t touched anything?

That’s correct, except for the walk-in closet door handle. You will find my fingerprints throughout the house. I’ve been in and out for years.

"Thanks for your cooperation and you two go ahead and get some coffee. We have just a few more questions, but we can do that when we’re done checking the room and closet. You’re going to find two police officers outside your front door, and the coroner, George Hasting, and his staff are on their way.

After they left Tillman noticed Anderson picking up and rubbing his hands across a framed photo of Jeff and Philip. It was Anderson’s facial expression that caught his attention.

You having a problem with those photos? asked Tillman.

Two fruitcakes, what a joke, he laughed.

Keep your personal opinions to yourself. The body hanging in the closet could care less about your personal hang-ups. That includes me. So, go into the walk-in closet and scrape up some of the crap that Jeff threw-up on the floor. And don’t contaminate it either, said Tillman as he started to inspect the room.

Anderson was pissed. It didn’t make a damn bit of difference what I said on the street, he thought as he scooped up the stuff on the floor.

As he came out of the walk-in, he saw Tillman running his fingers across the dresser.

Find something? he asked.

Not exactly. Everything in this room has a fine coating of dust. Jeff hasn’t been here for a while. Whoever hung the body was very careful not to touch anything. A professional killer would appreciate that. You got the crap on the floor?

Yes.

Good, let’s take a look at the body, replied Tillman.

Tillman, a veteran of many years, clenched his jaw at what had been done to the victim’s face. There were diagonal slash marks on the left and right cheeks. The whole body was wrapped in strips of cloth. It looked like a mummy.

George, the body is in the walk-in. It isn’t pretty. Make sure she is treated with respect, said Tillman. George nodded.

Jeff and Philip were sitting on the sofa in the large family room with the kitchen behind them. The foyer, kitchen, family room, and the staircase to the second floor were one large open space.

Finally, Philip asked Jeff, Have you got yourself into some bad company and promised something that you couldn’t deliver on, Jeff?

What kind of crap is that? How could you even think such a thing?

Past history. I think someone has sent you a pretty brutal message and Ruth bore the cost. And then there is the alternative. That somewhere you crossed a line that you didn’t even know existed. You’ve got a history of leaving people in a mess that you helped create, so don’t play that game with me, Jeff. Think about what I’ve said.

Jeff’s face went taut, but he said nothing to Philip and took a sip of his coffee and saw the detectives coming down the staircase.

Would either of you like a cup of coffee, asked Philip, as Jeff extended his hands toward the two chairs on the other side of the coffee table.

No thanks, replied Tillman.

I want to apologize for my appearance. I’ve been wearing these clothes since I left Merritt, British Columbia.

Jeff, when did you leave Merritt? asked Tillman.

"I left in the late afternoon. It was early evening when I skidded off the highway and slammed into a tree. It was a fairly steep embankment, and I knew no one would see me. So, I hiked back up the embankment and eventually caught a ride to Vancouver. I even forgot to take my travel bag with me.

I checked into the Fairmount Waterfront when I got to Vancouver. Slept a little. Then caught a flight on Air Canada to LAX in the afternoon. And rented a car to get here.

So, you left Merritt late yesterday afternoon? asked Tillman.

Yes.

Then Philip broke into their conversation.

I can’t verify the accident, but I can tell you who can. His name is Daniel Taylor, said Philip. "Daniel is the owner of Java Café in Venoso. This morning he received a phone call from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, or the RCMP, as they call themselves.

Anyway, they found Jeff’s car down an embankment on Highway 5 about thirty miles south of Merritt. Dan can give you their phone number and who he talked to at the RCMP. The registration was in the car, and a crumpled coffee receipt from Java Cafe. Their receipts always have the business phone number on them. And he told me that Ann Crawford, his lead morning waitress, spoke to Jeff as he was leaving," said Philip.

Jeff, is that correct about Ann saying hello to you? asked Tillman.

Yes.

Philip. Am I correct that Daniel called you with this info? asked Tillman.

Almost correct. I had returned from a meeting with my client and decided to stop by Dan’s place. I wanted to see if he had heard any info on where Jeff was. That’s when he told me about the phone call from RCMP.

Jeff, would you mind telling me what you were doing in Merritt? asked Anderson with a slight roll of his eyes.

Taking a vacation from Philip and you can park your eye roll. He’s involved in a number of residential and commercial design projects. And they get bigger and bigger. He can get pretty intense and will work through one night after another. Particularly the last thirty days. I got a little pissed off and decided to go to British Columbia and climb a few mountains. I feel like I have to make an appointment to see my other half, said Jeff.

There was a sudden pause that was punctuated by its silence.

Hold on, Jeff. The client is Alex Rutherford. I designed his home and restaurant in Malibu. Alex, Jeff, and I all went to the same high school in Santa Monica. And we graduated together and hung out together. He has become a personal friend. No more and no less, and then turning to Jeff, He’s not a replacement for you, Jeff. So, erase that look of betrayal, he said in a cold tone of voice.

The look on Jeff’s face did not escape either detective. It spelled three words, a jealous person. Jeff got up and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter.

Perhaps Anderson and I could continue our conversation tomorrow morning. Say around ten o’clock? It’s getting late in the evening, and it’s been a long day for everyone, said Tillman.

As they started to get up, the coroner and his staff were bringing Ruth’s body down the staircase. Jeff had spotted them and walked over to the first-floor landing and waited for them. When they got there he said, I want to see her face. Open the body bag, in a brusque manner.

It caught everyone off guard except Philip.

Sir, perhaps tomorrow or the day after would be easier for you, said George.

I told you to open it, replied Jeff in an even colder tone of voice.

Philip quickly intervened and said, Doctor, Ruth raised Jeff. Could you open the body bag so he can see her face . . . the last time? asked Philip.

George looked at Tillman and Tillman nodded his head. And the coroner opened the bag.

Where are her ears? Jeff asked in a semi-hysterical voice, while Philip almost gagged but controlled it. He literally grabbed Jeff and took him to the outside garden.

The look on Tillman’s face had gone to a pale ashen color while Anderson’s eyes became the size of large marbles.

You okay, Tillman? asked George. We wouldn’t know that until the wrapping around her face is removed. I’ve never seen anything like this. Whoever did this was an expert with a knife.

Philip returned in a few minutes and handed Tillman his business card. "It has my phone number, fax number, and residential address in Venoso. My office is in my house. I’m not sure, but I believe that Jeff will be returning with me.

"His attachment to Ruth was intense and private. His parents had only one child and his parents died some time ago. Ruth was the person who raised him through his childhood and youth. His parents were very successful evangelists and were on the circuit most of the time. Jeff was the window dressing for them. Having a child was good for business, in a sense. But it was Ruth who raised him and provided an emotional support system for him. There are no brothers or sisters to contact.

One other thing. The nature of a successful design practice is that frequently you don’t have a scheduled day off. The bigger the project, its complexity, and the client’s time frame are part of a successful practice. I’m not in a nine-to-five career. That can be hard on your partner, and it has been for Jeff lately. His house was his backstop, in a manner of speaking, and I accept that with all its knots. I suspect that your hours are not that different than mine in many ways. We appreciate your patience yesterday evening and this morning. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning is fine, as long as it’s at my home. And if Jeff isn’t at my place, I’ll call you.

Your home is fine, replied Tillman, as Philip returned to the patio.

Time to leave, Anderson, said Tillman. The two started to walk out the front door, but Tillman stopped.

Now what, thought an exasperated Anderson.

Check out the car rental keys on the table? Usually they would have the company logo and phone number on the key chain. Then call them. I’ll meet you at the car.

As Anderson approached their car, he saw Tillman coming toward him from the back of the house.

Find something? he asked.

Just checking doors and windows. No windows open and they were all locked. No rear door to the house. What does the key chain tell us?

It’s from Hertz. He called them from Vancouver. I checked with Air Canada at LAX. They verified that he was on an Air Canada flight out of Vancouver to LAX.

Did they have the departure time and arrival time at LAX?

"Yes, it does fit the timeline, and the Fairmount Waterfront Hotel verified his check-in and check-out times. I think you’re right about a professional hitman, a stone-cold sociopath. The brutalization of Ruth was a dagger to scare the shit out of Jeff. I think he is the real target. Ruth was collateral damage.

"Another thing. Philip is pretty cool and incredibly detailed. His correction to your assumption that Daniel called him was very specific as to how he found out. This is a person who understands that details are important. And I suspect he is not too tolerant of generalities or loose comments as Jeff found out.

I think Philip doesn’t buy that Ruth is the actual target. His bet is Jeff. If so, he could be helpful, concluded Anderson.

I agree. He struck me as a man of few words but always checking out the space he is in. It will be interesting to see his home. His address is in the hill country of the city. He would have to be extremely successful to park his bed up there.

Twenty minutes later they pulled into the police parking lot.

Check out Jeff’s and Philip’s financial status. Let’s get a sense of their net worth and who gets what should one of them die. I think we have done our due diligence since it is Saturday morning.

What do you want? The glory and achievement of designing the impossible or the incredible emotional satisfaction Jeff gives you? Maybe you can’t have both, Philip thought.

Jeff sighed, with a facial expression that was neither sadness nor anger but contemplation. And he walked over to the chaise lounge and sat down on the pavers next to the chaise lounge.

Any thoughts in that head of yours? asked Philip.

No, aren’t you going to ask me about what I was doing in Merritt?

"Would it help clarify anything, Jeff? Right now you’ve had a brutal shock and that applies to me as well. I understand what Ruth meant to you emotionally. I respect that, as I respected her. You and I share a number of traits in common. One of them is we hide our emotional grief. So, in the scheme of things right now, Merritt can wait. I would like you to come back with me because we need each other. All you’re going to do here is go into one of your self-serving numbers about woe is me. Then you’ll take off again. That is not a solution to what you’re faced with.

I’ll work with you in giving you more time. But talk to me about it and work at trying to understand me. I want you and I love you. But my work is as exciting to me as yours is to you. Designing buildings is part of what make me tick. It the same thrill of accomplishment as you get from climbing an impossible mountain peak and planting your flag on top of it. I don’t think that’s asking too much of you.

Jeff was slightly shorter than Philip, but his bone structure was heavier, like a lineman on the defensive lineup of a professional football team. He could pick Philip up and give him a body hug. He was all muscle.

Alright, you’ve made your point. Are you going to take tomorrow off? Like, it’s just you and me? asked Jeff.

Only one string attached. Tillman and Anderson want to finish their conversation with us at ten tomorrow morning. After they’re gone, we could head down to Zuma Beach, replied Philip.

Philip got up and sat on the end of the chaise lounge and studied Jeff’s face for an emotional read-out.

Hey, let’s just get out of here. Everything is locked up except the front door. There is a police car out front with an officer in it. Tillman let me keep my key to your place. I’ll let the policeman know I’ve locked the front door and you‘ll be at my place. We still have the rest of Saturday, said Philip.

Philip’s home was seventy feet from the street gate to the front door. And if you exited the home from the various rear exits it was another seventy feet to the rear property line. The floor plan was laid out as a one-story building in the shape of an arc. The rear walls were sliding glass from the floor to the ceiling while the front walls had no windows except for the front door. The swimming pool was between the rear wall and an arroyo that ran through the rear property.

The only sound you heard was the Ferrari as it snaked up the hill with its intimidating sound. As Philip approached the gate to his residence he said, Welcome home, Jeff. I wasn’t sure I would see you again.

We know each other’s history and what it cost us. That is not a small investment. Is it? asked Jeff.

No, it isn’t, replied Philip as the car came to a stop. As they got out of the car, Philip said, I’ll throw something together for lunch, or we could go to the pier and have fish and chips. What’s your choice?

Let’s just take a nap. I don’t know about you, but I need some sleep. But a shower first. You scrub my sweat off and I’ll scrub your doubts off.

And they did, as the water poured down on them in the shower. It was a very long shower. And within five minutes of hitting the bed they were out for the count but intertwined with each other.

Morning spread across their bodies as the sun’s warmth poured through the sheets of glass. Jeff turned toward Philip and pulled Philip’s face to his.

"Good morning, sleepy head. I missed your mouth, lips, and the rest of you. How about waking up? Ah, you’re being difficult. Well then . . . and he put his lips to Philip’s.

Philip’s eyes came to life and he said, Will you stay awhile?

Yes, and he tickled Philip’s chest.

Do you realize that someone has sent you an invitation to your death? And here we are making love less than forty-eight hours since Ruth’s murder. I still love you, but you scare me, thought Philip.

Time to get up, Jeff. What would you like for breakfast?

How about some french toast, bananas, and strong dark coffee.

I’ll do the french toast and you take care of the rest, Philip replied as he got out of bed.

Jeff reached over and slapped Philip’s butt and said, Still tight.

Philip turned around and replied, Don’t forget the cream, and a wicked smile appeared on his face. And he put on some clothes.

Ten minutes later, Jeff walked into the kitchen and started to take care of Philip’s list. The freshly brewed coffee brought a pleasing aroma to the kitchen.

How about breakfast on the patio table? It’s a pleasant seventy-one degrees outside and I feel a mild sea breeze coming off the bay. Perfect for french toast and strong coffee.

Sounds good, replied Philip and within twenty minutes they were at the patio table.

Jeff, I need to say something. I understand your answer to Detective Tillman as to why you disappeared. But you left something out. I believe it was, at least partially, that you couldn’t deal with the stillborn death of your and Joyce’s baby. It’s time that we both do a better job of being truthful with each other.

Jeff’s face tightened and his relaxed stance stiffened.

Alright, that is partially true. I knew that you would be on my case about what happened. I would hear again about my procrastination of putting off things I don’t want to deal with. So yes, I kicked the can down the road. And yes, I haven’t told Joyce I’m back. Now, can we have breakfast?

Philip nodded and it was quiet until they finished eating.

As Jeff took his last sip of coffee, he looked at Philip like he was evaluating a puzzle.

I was surprised that Tillman didn’t say a single word about the photos of you and me. He is different than the other one. That one is a punk and a snake. Did you see the way he rolled his eyes when he asked me why I went to Merritt?

It was a logical question and as to the eye roll, it is what it is, Jeff. You and I live in a world where if you’re different, you’re a suspect. But at least we’re not in rural America.

Then deliberately changing the subject, he said, How do you want to handle Ruth’s funeral once her body is released? I’ll talk to Tillman about when that might be. This is a Friday, so he probably doesn’t have an answer, but I’ll ask anyway. There is a Jewish cemetery at the east end of Simi Valley. But I have a thought, Jeff. Her husband and her son were lost in the Holocaust at Auschwitz. It’s a miracle she survived and made it to the United States. What if you had some type of legal document that, upon your death, she would be interred next to you? You were her son, from her perspective. I can’t explain why I feel this way except she shouldn’t be alone.

A strange look came across Jeff’s face. It was like he was seeing something that he had not expected to see put into words from Philip.

Well, there is a God buried somewhere in those locked boxes in the recesses of your brain, he said without any dramatics and an almost meditative look. Yes, that is a good idea. The rest we can talk about when her body is released. How much time is left before ten o’clock?

"About an hour. We might as well get ready now, and we can just stack the plates in the kitchen. His cell phone rang, and Philip looked at the caller’s number before taking the call.

Good morning, Alex. How can I help you?

Daniel called and filled me in on how the RCMP found Jeff’s car. At least he could be alive, Philip.

Philip paused for a moment and then said, You’re right. Let me give you a call tomorrow. I want to go over a slight revision of the bar area that you were concerned about at Jason’s. Say about one in the afternoon?

That will work. I’m not particularly fond of Jeff, but everyone has a different dance card. He’ll make it, Philip. Talk to you tomorrow.

As he put his cell phone down, Jeff asked, What did Mr. Big want?

Philip studied Jeff’s face and then said, I’m assuming you meant Alex. He had heard about your car being found in British Columbia. He gave me a pep talk that you would be okay.

Alright, it was an asshole comment on my part. Here, hand me your stuff and I’ll stack our breakfast utensils and you go upstairs and get ready.

Philip didn’t take long and was back in ten minutes.

You take a speed pill? asked Jeff in a jovial manner as he heard Philip coming down the stairs.

Listen, we can zip down to Zuma Beach after Tillman and Anderson leave. We haven’t done that for some time and it’s a beautiful day with a cool breeze. What do you say?

You really mean it?

Yes, I already told you that, replied Philip.

You’re on, said Jeff.

It was at this precise moment that Philip remembered one of the joys Jeff had brought to his life. His sudden bursts of enthusiasm that swept you away in its energy and could bring out the child in you with its anything-is-possible innocence.

As Anderson drove up the hill and stopped at the gate to Philip’s home, he exhaled loudly.

Is this for real? he blurted out.

Oh, it’s real. I want you to remember to think first before you make any off-color comment. What do you think this gate represents? asked Tillman.

One hell of a pile of money.

That is the obvious. Try again, said Tillman.

High octane juice with the right connections.

"You just described power. He has it, and we are on his turf, not ours," replied Tillman.

I got your drift.

Fifteen minutes later they were ringing the door buzzer. Philip opened the door and brought them to the living room. Jeff was sitting on a lounge chair and acknowledged them with a nod of his head.

May I offer you coffee, tea, or water? asked Philip.

We’re fine, but thanks for the offer, replied Tillman.

There is one thing that Jeff and I have discussed that may be important, and we wanted to bring it to your attention. Jeff, you can fill in better than me, said Philip.

When I arrived at Ruth’s home, on my way to Vancouver, she was somewhat agitated. I had ever seen her like that before. There was this sense of urgency she had. She immediately wanted to talk about some crazy wording tied to a box. All she kept repeating was, ‘She wasn’t home, but I told him,’ over and over again. Then she said, ‘It’s in the box.’ And she became quiet. It was bizarre.

What happened next? asked Tillman.

She asked if I had brought her some coffee. I replied that I had and went to the kitchen and brought it out to her. And when I came back, she was calm. It was like a light switch had been flipped. The urgency was gone. I tried one more time to understand what she had told me. I asked her who this person was that she referred to, but she was somewhere else. Then I asked her if she could tell me where the box was. She drank her coffee and there was no further reference to what she had said. Then I left for Vancouver.

You can’t think of anything this is tied to? asked Tillman.

Not a thing.

"How about you, Philip?

"Nothing. Ruth was along in years, but I never saw it affect what she wanted to say to you. The only rational thing I can think of is whether she had a stroke that impacted her ability to present a coherent sentence.

Do you have any idea when Ruth’s body will be released to Jeff? The reason we’re asking is she was Jewish. We both want to honor the timeline of her Jewish faith for burial. To the extent we can, given the circumstances of her death, asked Philip.

I understand your concern, but I can’t answer your question today. I will call you Monday and hopefully have an answer for you. This is a murder investigation and that changes some things. Was her financial position secure? asked Tillman.

Yes, replied Jeff. I had established a generous pension for her that was incorporated into a trust. It included a medical plan that took care of what social security didn’t. And it included an addendum that provided for all funeral costs. After my graduation from high school, I continued to live in my deceased parents’ home, as did Ruth. A number of years later I sold the home and purchased a home for Ruth in Ojai Valley. The only way her home could revert to me was if she died before me, replied Jeff.

Quite generous on your part, said Anderson.

She earned it. After all, she was the one who brought me up, woke me up, and put me to bed. When I was scared and lonely, she was always there. The only other person was Philip, and he still is, said Jeff.

So, your family was Ruth and Philip? asked Tillman.

That is what I told you. You need to hear it again? asked Jeff.

No, Jeff. Then turning toward Philip, he asked, You mentioned you were returning from a client in Malibu. Could you give us his or her name and when you were there? asked Tillman.

Of course, and he wrote the name, phone number, address, and the approximate time he arrived at their home and when he left. He had the look on his face that gave Tillman the feeling that Philip was checking him out instead of the other way around.

We have one last question, Detective Tillman. We wanted to go over to Ruth’s home. It’s probable that you have already checked her home to see if it was where the murder took place. In any event we wanted to check with you first before we went there.

Well, it would help us if you could meet us there Monday. Her home has been secured, but it would be helpful if you could go through it to see if anything has been taken or out of order, replied Tillman while Anderson had a subdued chuckle.

Philip didn’t miss anything, thought Anderson.

Well, Monday morning would work for me. I have an afternoon meeting with a client and it’s not in my best interest to cancel it. Would Monday morning work for you, Jeff?

Yes.

Would Monday morning work for you two? asked Philip.

How about Monday morning at nine thirty? asked Tillman.