by Sam Cheever
The hotel had recently changed hands and been completely renovated by the man my mother was in love with. Judging by the number of cars in the lot, Garland Medford had another successful business on his hands.
Pammie, whose last name we’d learned was Wickham, was staying in the last unit on the top floor. The room had two walls of windows overlooking the river, rather than just one, and was the Fawn’s most expensive unit.
Hal knocked twice before we heard footsteps approaching the door.
Calliente’s fiancée looked to be Asian Indian, with warm brown skin, thick black hair that fell several inches below her shoulders, and a slim, elegant build. Her dark eyes flashed when she saw Hal, interest clear in their depths. The soft curve of her cherry-red lips made sure he didn’t miss the invitation in her gaze. “Hello.” She reached a long-fingered hand toward him and he clasped it in a brisk shake.
“Ms. Wickham, my name is Hal Amity. I’m working with the sheriff’s department on the investigation into your fiancé’s death.”
Giving him an insincere moue of sadness, she held onto my PI’s hand as he gently tried to disengage. Short of wrenching it free, Hal couldn’t extricate himself from her hungry clutches.
I stuck my hand into the mix, forcing her to reluctantly drop Hal’s and take it. “Joey Fulle. I’m with him.” Okay, my tone might have been a bit territorial. Maybe even hostile. But I felt an instinctual need to stake my claim in the face of the other woman’s rampant aggression.
Pammie curled her lips at me, an expression that was more snarl than smile. “You don’t look like a policewoman.”
Before I could respond, Hal said, “Can we come inside? We’d like to talk to you about Jonathan.”
His reminder that she had a dead fiancé should have shamed the other woman, but she actually looped her arm through Hal’s and tugged him inside.
I followed along, trying not to growl.
“Can I get you a drink?” Pammie asked Hal.
I almost said I’d like one, just to force her to notice my presence in the room. But I bit back the words, knowing her unwanted attention was nothing Hal hadn’t dealt with before. He could handle it. So, I sat on the couch next to Hal and earned myself a glower when she realized that relegated her to the chair across from him.
Giving the room a quick once-over, I admired the stunning view and the classy furnishings. I could see my mother’s hand in the way the room was pulled together.
“Ms. Wickham,” Hal started.
“Call me Pammie, please,” she gushed.
I noticed her accent, which had been very slight when she met us at the door, had grown thicker.
He gave her a mirthless smile. “First of all, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
She winced slightly, clearly catching what my PI was throwing down. If she wasn’t actually mourning for poor Jonathan, she should at least act as if she was. “It’s just horrible.”
I watched with awe as she managed to wrench out a couple of tears. “We had such wonderful plans for Calliente Catering.”
I heard two key things in that statement. One, the most important takeaway for her, apparently, was the business. And second, she spoke of him without bobbling the tense thing. Most people who lose loved ones continue to speak of them as if they were alive at first. By contrast, killers sometimes found it easy to put their victims into the past.
“You were active in the business?” Hal asked, carefully clueless.
“Oh yes,” she gave him a bright smile. “We were partners in every sense. I have a master's in business, you know. I have plans to turn the company into a national success.”
Hal’s midnight brows lifted. “You’re going to expand throughout the country?”
“I am.”
Hal’s lips twitched slightly. Pammie didn’t realize the trap he’d led her into. “So, with Mr. Calliente’s death, you inherit the business?”
She blinked slowly, like a reptile, and her lips flapped a few times while she made several false starts on a response. She’d just realized how nakedly ambitious she’d sounded. “I’ve put my heart and soul into the business. But I’m not glad he’s dead if that’s what you’re implying.”
Hal’s smile was brilliant. “I’m not implying anything, Pammie. I’m just trying to discover who killed Jonathan.”
She nodded, looking a little green around the gills.
“Do you have any idea who might have wanted him dead?” Hal asked. “A competitor? An angry customer? A scorned lover?”
Pammie bristled at the last suggestion. “Jonathan wasn’t cheating on me.”
I let my eyes go wide. “Are you sure? You said yourself that you were working very hard building the company. Maybe he felt neglected.”
Her lips curled again. There might have been a growl.
I chewed my lip to keep from smiling.
She shook her head, then smoothed the glossy perfection of her hair. “Jonathan was a dreamer. He had a lot of ideas, but he could never settle down enough to see any of them through. He was our concept person. I took care of the day-to-day details. Everybody knew that. If a client was going to take something out on someone, it would have probably been me.”
“Were there angry clients who might have been looking for payback?”
She shrugged. “People want the world, but when it comes down to it, they often don’t want to pay for it. I’m used to that.”
“Have you been threatened?” Hal asked.
Her gaze slid sideways, telling me she had. “I have thick skin and ironclad contracts. I don’t worry about that type of thing.”
“Humor me,” Hal said. “Who might have wanted Jonathan dead?”
She thought about it for a beat and then said, “If you’re looking for someone who was angry at Johnny, you don’t have to look far. Mayor Robb was here night before last, screaming at the top of his lungs.”
“What about?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Pammie threw me a snarl and then pointed her response to Hal instead. “He accused Johnnie of telling secrets to his enemies.”
“What secrets?” Hal asked.
She shrugged again. “I don’t know. But I didn’t get the impression that they were talking about catering. You know what I mean?”
8
“It’s time to talk to Cecily again,” Hal said.
I tensed, not liking that idea at all. But I knew it had to be done. “Can we eat first? I’m starving.”
He gave me a smile. “Of course. Where would you like to go?”
“Home? We still have our dinners from helping Max.”
“And pie,” he said, waggling his brows.
He knew me so well. “And pie,” I agreed with a laugh.
Caphy was flinging herself at the door as we parked Hal’s SUV in the turnaround in front of the house. The pibl punctuated each of her body slams against my long-suffering door with unhappy sounds that were half howling and half yodeling.
The couple sitting in the swing on the porch kept sliding worried looks toward the sound. They were probably wondering why I had a yodeling wolf living in my house.
I waved at Cecily and her boyfriend, Benson Dexter, as I climbed the steps. “Hey, you two. Did I forget a visit?”
Cecily wrapped me in a hug. “No. We took a chance and stopped by.”
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
Benson hugged me too and shook Hal’s hand. “Only a few minutes. And we’ve been serenaded the entire time.” He threw a pointed look toward the door, which had been abandoned. Hearing our voices, Caphy had relocated to the living room window and was yodeling there instead.
“We were just going to have some lunch. Would you like to join us?”
“We don’t want to intrude,” Cecily said, though I got the sense she wanted to stay.
“Come on,” I urged, sliding my arm through hers. “Max sent us home with two massive portions of chicken and noodles last night. And a whole pie.”
Her
eyes lit. “Banana cream pie?”
“Is there any other kind?”
At the door, I hesitated, glancing at Hal. “You’d better work your magic, or she’s going to flatten everybody.”
He unlocked the door and opened it just wide enough that he could still block it with his body. “Beauty, sit.”
I watched my crazy dog drop ungracefully to her fuzzy butt and stare up at him with an adoring gaze.
He held up a hand, palm out and said, “Stay.”
Her tail skimmed the tile of the entry and her beautiful green eyes swung to Cecily and Benson, but she didn’t jump up.
Hal turned his hand over and wiggled his fingers, pulling a treat from his pocket and saying, “Easy, girl.”
Caphy took the treat, swallowed it without chewing, and walked over to give Cecily’s knee a lick. She picked up a little speed as she swiped her tongue over the knee of Benson’s jeans and then took off running to do her business.
Hal laughed. “It’s not foolproof. There’s only so much you can do with that much enthusiasm.”
“I’d forgotten how gorgeous she is,” Benson said. He glanced at Hal. “By the way, I wanted to thank you for telling me about the rescue fundraiser.” He and Cecily shared a look. “We each rescued a senior dog. We’re in love.”
“I took a cat too,” Cecily said, chuckling. “I didn’t realize how much I missed having a pet until I brought those two into my house. You should see the antics they get up to.”
“I believe it,” I told her. “Caphy and LaLee are in a constant state of hijinks.” I frowned. “I’m surprised we didn’t see your furbabies when we visited.”
Cecily nodded. “The pup was sleeping in her favorite sunbeam in my bedroom. She’s kind of hard of hearing, so she probably didn’t hear you arrive. The cat was likely asleep too.” She laughed. “They’re very low-key, which is good. I couldn’t imagine going from no pet to a pet that bounced off the walls.”
Right on cue, an elongated squeal preceded the burst of a black and white projectile wearing a purple sparkly t-shirt through the door. Our miniature pot-bellied pig, Ethel Squeaks, toddled over to us. Her tail twirling, she bumped first me and then Hal in the thigh with her twitching snout.
“She’s hungry,” I explained. “Let’s go inside and feed her before she kneecaps us.”
As we walked through the house, Cecily ogled Ethel. “That t-shirt is adorable.”
I nodded. “It was a gift from her aunt Lis.” The shirt said Princess Porkpie on the back in pink sequins. “I don’t know where Lis finds them, but Ethel has a better wardrobe than I do.”
Cecily laughed with delight.
Hal came into the kitchen sans Benson. At Cecily’s questioning look, he said, “Men’s room.”
“Ah.” She sat on a stool at the counter and watched me put together a plate full of fruit and raw veggies. Ethel trotted around my feet, bumping me energetically as she continued to make soft snorting noises. “She hasn’t eaten in a couple of hours. She thinks she’s dying,” I explained.
Laughing, Cecily said, “I know how she feels.”
I placed the plate on the floor by Ethel’s tent, and she dove in. Picking up Caphy’s bowl, I put assorted melon chunks and strawberries into it. As if she could smell her snack, the pitty barreled into the room and skidded to a halt mere inches from where I placed her bowl. “She has to eat whenever Ethel eats. Thank goodness she loves fruit and veggies too, or she’d be as fat as a house by now.”
“She’ll eat veggies?” Cecily asked, shocked.
“Raw carrots and broccoli mostly. But she loves every kind of fruit.”
“No grapes, though,” Hal said. “They’re poisonous to dogs.”
“I did not know that,” Cecily said. “That’s good to know. I love grapes. I’ll have to be careful. Anything else?”
“Raisins, chocolate, I wouldn’t give him? Her?”
“Her. I named her Mandy.”
“I love that name,” I said.
“She just looked like a Mandy to me. My cat’s name is Divet. He’s black and gray with white stripes. A gorgeous boy.”
“Divet?” Hal asked. “That’s unique.”
Nodding, Cecily said, “It was the name he came with. Since he’s a cat, I figured he wouldn’t humor me by taking a new name. He barely answers to the one he has.”
Hal placed four plates on the counter, and we divvied up the dinners from Sonny’s Diner.
“Anyway, I wouldn’t give her raw potato either. I’m pretty sure they’re toxic to dogs,” I said.
“Good to know.” She eyed the food as if she hadn’t eaten in days.
She caught me watching her and laughed. “I was too upset to eat last night. And this morning, I didn’t have time.”
Hal put a plate into the microwave and covered it. “After eating this, you won’t need to eat until tomorrow.”
Cecily and I shared a look, and she blew a raspberry. “Spoken like a man.”
I nodded, patting him on the back. “Eating has nothing to do with need and everything to do with need.”
“Truth,” Cecily agreed.
We carried our plates and glasses of frosty lemonade to the back porch and sat under a ceiling fan out of the sun to eat. Caphy sat with her head in my lap but mostly didn’t beg.
Ethel wandered around the yard, snorfling around the base of the trees in search of succulent roots.
We made small talk as we ate, the late afternoon sun painting the grass and trees of my backyard in shades of gold. As we reached the bottom of our plates, we sat back with full bellies and enjoyed watching the animals play for a few moments.
Finally, Benson sat forward, a serious expression on his face. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we’re here.”
“I think I have a pretty good idea,” Hal said. “You came to explain why Cecily threatened Jonathan Calliente right before he died.”
Cecily flinched, setting down her fork. “I know that looks bad.” She looked at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t come clean about it. The thing is, I knew it would make me a suspect.”
“And now?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.
“Now, I realize it was stupid to think I could hide it. I know Karinne heard me. Deputy Willager has already asked me about it.”
“Did you tell him the truth?” Hal asked.
She flinched again. The woman would be toast at the poker table. “What I told him was the truth.”
“But not all of the truth,” Hal guessed.
“No.” She sighed. “Not all of it.”
“You realize that even lying by omission just makes you look guiltier,” he said softly.
She nodded. “I do. That’s why we’re here.”
“She was trying to protect me,” Benson said into the silence that followed.
“Why would she need to protect you?” Hal asked.
Benson sighed. “I hired Calliente Catering for a party last week. I knew Robb used them, and to be honest, I’d heard the owners had flexible values.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
Benson flicked me a guilty look. “The word on Calliente and his partner is that they’ll do just about anything for money. I might have taken advantage of that impulse.”
“How so?” Hal asked.
Benson and Cecily shared a look. She gave him the slightest of nods. He reluctantly went on. “I…bribed…Jonathan Calliente to do a little snooping for me while at Robb’s home.”
“Snooping for what?” Hal asked.
Benson shook his head, staring at his hands.
“Evidence of Robb molesting a young intern early in his political career,” Cecily replied when he wouldn’t.
I stared blankly at her, not believing what I was hearing. “That happened?”
Cecily nodded. “Robb and his powerful friends have done a nice job of covering it up. The girl was paid off, and her identity was kept away from everybody. The only ones who know are Robb and the high-level cop in India
napolis he paid off to keep it secret. But there was definitely a girl.”
“How do you know about it?” Hal asked, his expression clearly showing his disgust.
Benson sighed. “I worked as an intern in his office back then.”
“Then you know the identity of the girl.”
Benson shook his head. “I was new and Robb had me out doing grunt work, handing out fliers and stuff. But when I came back to the office late one night, I overheard a couple of women talking about it. I guess the girl he molested left that day. The speculation was that she was paid off. I couldn’t get anybody in the office to talk to me about it because they were afraid they’d get fired. Or worse.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “This would have been…”
“Fifteen years ago,” Benson said.
“Why do you think you’d find anything now? That was a long time ago.” I said.
Benson looked at Cecily.
She clasped his hand. “Robb keeps things to use against people. It’s one of the reasons he’s gotten where he is. The man has aspirations to run for governor and, from there, the presidency. He knows there will be people who try to get in his way, so he does what he needs to do to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Like when he framed me,” Benson said.
Robb had paid someone to drop stolen jewelry into Benson’s car when Benson was running against him for mayor of Deer Hollow. His dirty trick had ultimately gotten someone killed. But he’d managed to slither his way out of it.
“He hoards knowledge,” Cecily went on. “Souvenirs, blackmail items.”
“So you think he’s got something in his office that might incriminate him on being inappropriate with this girl?”
“And others,” Cecily said, nodding. “I’d bet money on it.”
“How old was the girl?” Hal asked. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed into a taut line. He was really unhappy with what Benson and Cecily were telling us.
“I don’t know. I was twenty-five, but I was one of the oldest interns. Most of them were in their late teens. Some in their early twenties.”
