Catch a Falling Knife

kitchen. I tried to reassure her about Mark’s safety. She called the restaurant and asked if Mark had left. He had.
    “He’s probably on the road between the restaurant and Silver Acres,” I said.
    “I’m going to beep him,” Sandra said. She called his beeper number and left her phone number.
    While we were waiting for Mark to call, Sandra fed Winston some hash for his dinner. He ate it with a spoon while sitting on a booster chair. He had announced some time ago that he was too old for a highchair. He was ambidextrous and could handle the spoon equally well with either hand. He also drank milk from a sippy cup.
    I didn’t think Mark was in any immediate danger, but the fact that he hadn’t called was frustrating. I said, “I’ll go back to my apartment and check my messages.”
    “Can’t you check them from here?” Sandra asked.
    “Silver Acres has its own message system. I don’t think my messages can be checked remotely. If so, I haven’t figured out how to do it.”
    “I can check my messages remotely. I’ll go with you.”
    “Good. Then all of us can have dinner together in the Silver Acres dining room, You, Winston, Mark and me.”
    “If he’s there.”
    “I already ate dinner,” Winston said.
    “But I bet you would like some ice cream,” I said.
    “Can I have chocolate ice cream?”
    Maybe this was serendipity because it would bring Sandra and Mark together.

Chapter 29
     
    We took two cars. In spite of local rush-hour traffic we made the trip to Silver acres in ten minutes. We both parked in the parking lot near my building. My building contains four apartments and residents of several buildings use this lot, but extra parking spaces are available for visitors. Mark’s car wasn’t there.
    The sun was still up, its rays slanting through the evergreen trees in the small woods between the parking lot and the buildings. The air was pleasantly cool, neither the cold of winter nor the heat of summer. We walked the short distance to my apartment, with Winston checking out several squirrels and a rabbit we encountered along the way.
    Once inside, I went to my telephone and punched in the code for the answering service. The female, recorded voice informed me enthusiastically that I had two messages. The first one was from Tess, asking whether I, or Mark and I, were available to eat dinner with her in the dining room. The second message, I was told, was from an unknown number, meaning outside Silver Acres.
    Mark’s voice said, “Hi, Lillian. I’m not going to be there for dinner tonight. I got a call from Donna, saying that she had some new information on the case, so I’m going to meet her for dinner. I’ll see you when I see you. Don’t wait up.”
    The last was said facetiously. I hung up the phone and turned to Sandra.
    “Well?” she said.
    “Mark is meeting Donna for dinner because he thinks she has information for him. He’s not supposed to do this. Burt told him not to talk to her.” Of course that was a minor problem if Donna meant him harm.
    Sandra’s expression showed pure panic. “Where is he meeting her?”
    “He didn’t say. It may be totally innocent.” I didn’t really believe this and was already wondering how we could find them.
    “Gogi, you read Donna’s poem. There’s nothing innocent about her. She’s going to kill Mark. We’ve got to stop her.”
    But how? “Let’s call Albert and see if he’s free. He and I can run up to Bethany and try to find them.”
    “Dad has a date tonight. I know because I talked to him last night. Besides, I’m going to go.”
    “What about Winston?”
    “We’ll take him with us. Or he can stay here with you and I’ll go.”
    “You can’t go alone,” I said. “You don’t know your way around Bethany or where Donna’s apartment is.” I wasn’t about to be left out of this.
    “Can we take your car? Mine isn’t running very well.”
    “Of course.” My car was old, but it ran well. And it was roomier than Sandra’s.
    “We’ll have to put the car-seat in it. Winston, where are you? We’re going for a ride in Great-Grandma’s car.”
    Winston appeared from the sunroom where he had been playing with a yellow Volkswagen I had bought him. He was always ready for a ride in a real car.
    “Where are my keys?” I asked. “I’d lose my head if it weren’t screwed on.” I kept them in a cupboard, but I evidently hadn’t gotten them that far when we came in. I began a frantic search for