The Mystery of the Lakeshore Ltd - An Eleanor and Lydia Mystery

Chapter Nine

While Eleanor washed up and changed into fresh slacks and a warm sweater, Lydia followed her like a baby lamb. "We should just call the police, Nana. We've got a witness. They can take over from here."

"Are you willing to take a chance that whomever we get ahold of at the police department at this hour is honest and free from the seeds of corruption sown by Rodney Cruise? And even if that officer is just, is their superior? Is the district attorney? Is the judge?"

Lydia dropped onto the edge of the bed. "If you get hurt, I'll die."

"You'll carry on and finish this, and when you're done with this, you'll go on and finish the next thing," Eleanor answered while tugging a stocking cap over her snowy hair. It had been a long, long time since she was a fetching young woman, but she retained enough vanity to notice the cute little curls that peeked out from beneath the knit fabric. Not all was lost to time and gravity. She turned and faced her great-granddaughter. "If I get caught, call Uncle Ben. Do not tell your mother."

Lydia rolled her eyes and nodded. The girl held no illusions about which of her elders carried the gene for hysteria.

"All right, then. Shall we see if Mr. Lopez is ready?"

"Please be careful, Nana."

Being wrapped in the girl's embrace was a preview of Heaven. "I am nothing, if not careful, my dear."

~*~

For the second evening in a row, Eleanor found herself dozing in a moving vehicle. A speed bump in the parking lot outside Rodney Cruise's building jarred her awake. She blinked her dreams away and stretched her aching back. "Pull around that way."

Lowell followed her directions and turned onto a side lot obviously meant for delivery trucks. A ramp descended toward a big bay door. Presumably, the mailroom for the six-story building was on the other side. To the right of the ramp, a plain white door with a keypad was illuminated by a single streetlamp.

"Who'd'ya'think that belongs to?" Lowell asked, pointing toward a rusty square-body pickup truck at the end of the lot.

"Maybe the night security guard? Or maybe it just broke down and someone left it there. It looks as if it's seen better days."

Lowell snorted noncommittally, and heaved his large frame upward and out of the car. Like the gentleman she knew he was, he came around and opened her door for her, and offered her his hand, which she took with gratitude.

"You gonna jab that keypad next to the door with a hairpin or something? How do we get in?"

"Let's take a look, shall we?"

Arm-in-arm, they approached the door and peeked at the little keypad. "I'm afraid my hairpins won't do much against this kind of technology. Any bit of fiddling would be more likely to summon the police than unlock the door."

"You just going to knock and ask them to let you in, then?"

Eleanor beamed at him and hitched her heavy handbag a little higher on her arm. "That is a fantastic idea, Mr. Lopez." She rapped against the door several times and then peered up at the little black camera lens mounted above the door. "Act sick."

"What are you..." his question broke off into a fit of coughing just as the door opened and a man with a fantastic Wyatt Earp moustache peeked out.

"Problem?"

Eleanor gestured at her red-faced companion. "We were driving along, and he just started coughing like this.

Lowell pounded on his chest with his fist and spit something awful onto the pavement. He wheezed in a most convincing manner.