Murder and Mozzarella

by Carole Fowkes

  I bowed slightly. “I understand. Just one question. What time did you get in from your trip?”

  Collin took a step toward me. “Why? You can’t possibly think Trish had anything to do with Parker’s death.” If Collin’s eyes could throw curare-laced darts, I’d be dead.

  Trish’s voice was weary. “It’s all right. Our flight got delayed and we didn’t get in until around midnight last night.”

  “I appreciate your answer and, my condolences.”

  I took my leave, wondering how these two people plus any suitcases could slip past the doorman. I was also curious about how Trish and Collin had filled their time since returning from St. Tropez. Maybe the doorman could shed some light into this darkness.

  When I got downstairs, the doorman was occupied with none other than Corrigan and Abby. Even without reading lips, I knew what they were asking him. And it wasn’t where he bought his fancy jacket.

  The doorman was shaking his head. “Ms. Vanderson’s here and so is some lady who says she’s a friend of Ms. Vanderson’s mother.”

  Having no choice but to go past the trio, I headed in their direction. Abby opened her mouth to say something to me, but Corrigan beat her to it. His voice overly pleasant, he exclaimed, “Ms. DeNardo! Of course it’s you. Always trying to be one step ahead.”

  He turned back to the doorman. “Excuse us for a second.” Corrigan took my elbow and led me out of the doorman’s sight.

  Abby, who had followed us, found her voice. “Why don’t you tell us what you’ve learned from the victim’s sister? It might save us some time.”

  Oh so politely, Corrigan chimed in. “Yes, do tell, Ms. DeNardo.”

  Giving Corrigan a look that clearly told him that if I weren’t so mature, I’d give him the old stink-face, I gave them strictly the facts. My opinions I kept to myself.

  Corrigan wrote it all down in his notepad. When it was obvious I’d finished, he glanced at Abby and then dismissed me with, “Thank you for your cooperation. Now Detective Tilka and I will talk to the sister and her boyfriend ourselves. See if you left anything out.”

  Feeling my face flush, I wanted to give him a snarky response, but before I could, he covered his last statement with a gruff, “I mean, the sister may be able to tell us something more now that the initial shock is passed.”

  Abby stared at me with accusing eyes. “Unless, Ms. DeNardo somehow unwittingly gave them an opportunity to get their story straight.”

  “I did not—”

  Corrigan stepped between us and interrupted me, no doubt hoping to corral any fighting. “Abby, could you head up to Trish Vanderson’s floor? On the way, check and see if there are any cameras around. We’ll need to verify when she came home and if she went out again. Then meet me on the fourth floor.”

  Abby hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Sure.”

  As the tapping from Abby’s heels grew softer, I crossed my arms. “What was that about?

  “What do you mean?”

  I squinted hard. “Trying to be the tough-guy cop for your new partner?”

  “She’s got nothing to do with it.”

  “Yeah. And brownies aren’t fattening.” Sarcasm rang through my words.

  Shaking his head as if I were a few slices shy of a whole pizza he said, “We can talk about this tonight. Right now I have a crime to solve.” He headed inside toward the elevator.

  Turning on my heels, I decided to hang around until Corrigan finished with the doorman and was safely ensconced in the elevator. Then I’d make my way back to the doorman. But the late autumn wind whipped through my jacket until my whole body shivered and I couldn’t wait any longer.

  I toddled over to the fellow, who was eyeing me with suspicion.

  “Hi Bob.”

  His eyes flitted from one spot to another. “Hey, you really working with the police? What’s going on?”

  I had to tread lightly, keep him thinking I was working with Corrigan. “They didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what? Alls I know is Ms. Vanderson’s a nice lady. Can’t say the same for that pretty boy who’s always with her. Now that guy’s got his head up his…” He cleared his throat. “I hope she’s not in trouble.”

  Maybe Bob knew more than he’d let on. Maybe if I gave him a little bit of information, I’d get more in return. And have it before Corrigan and his groupie came back. “A close relative of Ms. Vanderson’s has died. The police needed to locate her.”

  His eyebrows knit, as if he still had questions. I wasn’t done with mine, though.

  “Bob, what time did you start here this morning?” Trish claimed her plane had landed about midnight. That meant she and Collin probably didn’t make it back to the apartment until after one. “Already told the lady cop. My shift starts at seven. Jake was probably here when Ms. Vanderson got in.”

  So Bob wasn’t even around when Trish and Collin arrived here. “Is there a camera around here?” If so, I could know for sure Trish’s comings and goings.

  “Like I told that detective, no.”

  Bob tipped his hat to a middle-aged man. “Good morning, Mr. Goldman.” The resident nodded to Bob.

  Whenever Charlie, my dog, wanted something from me, he’d adopt a dopey big-eyed stare. I took a clue from him. After Goldman was out of earshot, I asked, “Tell me more about Jake, the night doorman.” When he bristled I added, “Bob, you know, if this mystery isn’t cleared up right away, there’ll be more cops and nosy reporters swarming all over this place. It could really make your job a nightmare. You don’t want that, do you?”

  Bob cracked his knuckles then looked both ways as if afraid someone would overhear him.

  A little late for that.

  “I already gave the cops Jake’s phone number so I guess it doesn’t matter if you have it too. His full name is Jake Mancuso.” He flipped through his phone. “Here’s his number.”

  “Do you have his address?”

  He shook his head so hard it gave me a headache. “No. Now can you go away?” He scanned the area. “Residents will be wondering why I’m still talking to you.”

  Like they weren’t curious when he was talking to Abby and Corrigan.

  Making myself scarce was easy. Plus there was an incentive to do so. I wanted to question Jake before Corrigan did.

  With the Internet it wasn’t hard to locate the night doorman’s address. On my way there, I checked my messages. Mrs. Vanderson had called asking me to get in touch with her right away. No surprise there. When I tried to reach her, though, all I got was her voicemail.

  Pulling up to Jake Mancuso’s duplex, I decided reaching Mrs. Vanderson could wait. I wanted to be the first to talk with this guy.

  I rang the doorbell and then pounded on the door. Still no answer. It was five-thirty in the evening. Surely he’d be awake by now even if he worked nights. As soon as I tried looking into his front window, he opened the door a crack. “Yeah, what’dya want?”

  “I’m Claire DeNardo. I work with the police.” I flashed my PI license so fast it must have looked like a blur. “Can I talk to you a minute regarding one of the tenants where you work?”

  Wearing a sleeveless white tee-shirt and sweatpants, he opened the door wider and growled, “Now who’re you talking about?”

  Hoping for a bit more privacy just in case Corrigan showed up, I asked, “Can we talk inside?”

  Jake backed away and allowed me to enter his house. “Okay, you’re in. Now tell me who you wanna know about?”

  “Trish Vanderson. She has the fourth floor apartment.”

  “Oh, yeah. Her and that stuck-up jerk she’s with came in about one in the morning, loaded down with suitcases.” He scratched the heavy beard on his chin and it sounded to me like nails running over gravel. “Funny thing. She went out again about five. Alone.”

  I struggled to keep my voice level. “Are you sure of the time?”

  “Sure I’m sure.”

  “Did you talk to her then?”

  “Naw, I was com
ing from the john when I saw her leave. Always need to go after my second cup of coffee.”

  Not wanting to hear more about his bathroom habits, I put up my hand. “Did you see her return?

  He nodded. “Even talked to her when she got back. It was six-fifteen or so. She looked kinda, I don’t know, worn out. I asked her if everything was okay. Claimed she’d gone out to get some aspirin for a headache.” One of his eyebrows rose. “But she didn’t have no paper or plastic bag on her.”

  “Thank you, Jake. You’ve been very helpful.” Had Trish visited her stepbrother at that hour? If so, why? I had to tuck these thoughts away because Jake’s doorbell rang and then, just outside Jake’s door, I heard my fiancé announce his presence. I needed to leave. In a whisper, I asked, “Is there a back door I can use?”

  Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “Thought you said you worked with the cops.” He shook his head and tsk’d. “If you weren’t so damn good-looking…” He lifted his chin toward the left.

  I mouthed my thanks and headed in that direction, through the den and out the patio door on the side of the house. I didn’t dare stick my head around the corner for a full five minutes. Figuring that’s all it’d take for Jake to answer the door and admit Corrigan inside, I dashed from the house toward my car and hopefully, my getaway.

  It must have been too much for me to ask for. Corrigan was already outside and was leaning against the far side of my car. I skidded to a stop but it was too late. Might as well face him. I could have slapped myself for making such a rookie mistake. Never, ever park your own car close to the scene.

  Corrigan strolled toward me as I reached my vehicle. “Geez, Claire. I’ve seen more of you today than I do when we’re supposed to spend the day together.” He didn’t sound very joyful.

  Trying to deflect any reprimands, I demanded to know how he’d finished with Jake so quickly.

  He leaned against my car. “Not that it matters, but I didn’t. Abby’s talking to him now. She should be done soon.”

  Reluctant to wait around and compare notes with Abby, I nonchalantly opened my car door. “Well, I guess that’s it, then. About time for me to get home, walk Charlie and get ready for our date. Remember? Dinner?” I slid behind the wheel, but Corrigan wouldn’t let go of my door.

  “You’re not leaving until you tell me what you and Jake Mancuso discussed.”

  I crinkled my nose. “Why don’t you ask the amazing Abby?”

  “I will. But you’re not going until I compare what Jake told you to what he tells Abby. I want to make sure nothing gets left out.”

  I dug my nails into my palms. “I can’t believe this!” But there was no time to argue since Abby was already making her way toward us.

  Blowing out a big breath, I glanced up through my windshield. The sky looked as if it would open any minute and shower us with sleet. Great! I pushed the unpleasantness of walking Charlie in freezing rain to the back of my mind.

  Although chagrined at being detained, at least Abby’s and my stories matched. Grabbing my car door handle, I grinned as widely as I could. “Isn’t it nice how we’re all on the same page?” I slammed my vehicle’s door before either Corrigan or Abby could respond. Gunning the motor, I sped away.

  My phone rang as my car turned off Jake’s street. I took a deep, calming breath and answered it. “Hello, Mrs. Vanderson.”

  “You know, of course, my stepson, Parker, is dead.” Mrs. Vanderson could have been reading the weather report for all the emotion in her voice.

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, I know. My sympathies to you and your husband.”

  “Thank you. Also, thank you for having my daughter call me.” She tsk’d. “I suppose I seem foolish to have worried over her…”

  “No, not at all. And with all that’s happened—”

  “Ms. DeNardo, I know I hired you to find Trish, but now that Parker’s been murdered, it’s imperative that you meet me at your office.”

  I glanced at the time. “Okay, but it’ll have to be quick. I have an evening engagement.”

  “It will be. I’m only a few minutes from your agency.”

  Chapter Five

  Mrs. Vanderson was already waiting for me when I got to my office. Her appearance shocked me. Instead of her previous not-a-hair-out-of-place exterior, her wrinkled dress looked less than fresh. Her face was splotchy and without makeup.

  “Are you all right?”

  She waved my question aside until we were inside my office. “My husband didn’t take Parker’s death very well and we had some…heated words.”

  Without missing a beat she got down to the reason she wanted to see me. “Find out who killed Parker.” Her fingers beat a rapid pulse upon her purse.

  For a second I was taken aback since she’d expressed no great affection for her stepson. The reality came to me quickly, though. “You’re afraid the police will suspect Trish.”

  She gave me a brief nod. “Of course she didn’t do it.”

  Despite my echoing, “Of course,” I wasn’t entirely sure. She certainly had no alibi for part of the timeframe in which Parker’s death occurred. Plus, if her mother was to be believed, there was no love lost between step-siblings. Still, my gut had assured me Trish was a good person, and I had to go with that.

  She grabbed her lower lip with her top teeth. “I’ll pay you double what I was paying you for locating my daughter.”

  Any reluctance to accept the case vanished along with my worries about making my rent. “I’ll take it.”

  Mrs. Vanderson smiled tersely and pulled out a completed check. A bit of her self-assuredness showed through. “I knew you’d agree.”

  Well, why not? Parker led a dangerous life and probably had lots of enemies who’d kill him for a pittance. And there was an innate kindness I’d sensed in Trish. She wasn’t a killer.

  Contract signed, I escorted Mrs. Vanderson out of my office. I didn’t have much time to get ready for my date with Corrigan, so I placed this latest check in my desk’s top drawer. That’s when I glimpsed John Vanderson’s check.

  I picked it up, wondering when I’d hear from him and what that conversation would be like. After replacing that check and making sure the drawer was locked, I exited my office, but didn’t get far.

  John Vanderson stood in my path and in a commanding voice said, “Ms. DeNardo, I must speak to you. Now.” He motioned toward my office. Suppressing a sigh, I turned, unlocked the door and he followed me inside.

  I didn’t offer him a seat and he didn’t take one. Instead he almost loomed over me. “I know my wife was just here.” His voice became more of a growl, reminding me of a wounded lion’s roar. “She no doubt wants you to save her daughter from being indicted for murdering my son. If you do, you’ll be helping a killer go free.”

  My legs weren’t shaking, but they weren’t pillars of strength either. I wanted to sit, but didn’t dare show weakness, fearing this lion might strike. “I’m not saying whether your wife was here or not, but even if she were, I can’t divulge what a client has discussed with me.”

  He scowled and I noticed for the first time, how red his eyes were and the deepened frown lines around his mouth. I stifled the sympathy I felt, believing if I revealed that emotion he’d somehow twist it to his advantage.

  I unlocked my top drawer, pulled out his check and held it out. “Please take this back.”

  When he made no move toward it, I gathered my courage and managed to squeak, “You believe Trish killed Parker?”

  “It looks that way. Now keep my check.”

  My internal alarm went off. “And do what with it?”

  His lips curled upward, reminding me of a study I’d read that claimed rats actually smile. “And do absolutely nothing. The police will find enough evidence to convict Trish. I’m sure of it.”

  I thrust the check toward him again. “I can’t do that. It’s a direct conflict of interest.” I must admit, a greedy spark to take the money flared in me but I stomped it out. “Here. Take thi
s. Please.”

  He snatched the check from my shaking hand and in a voice as cold as the winter wind blowing off Lake Erie, he said. “Very well. But when Trish is convicted, I’ll make sure everyone knows your part in protecting her. I promise you won’t come out looking good. What will happen to your business then?”

  With that, he spun on his heels and was out my door while I sank into a chair, trying to collect my scattered nerves.

  All the way home, I thought about John Vanderson’s offer…and threat. The money was tempting. Double it to do nothing or get less money to risk my life to help somebody who may or may not be innocent. I could always call him back…

  I slammed my hand against my steering wheel. I had to keep reminding myself of my gut feeling about Trish’s goodness. My decision to help her was a sound one.

  To take my mind off John Vanderson’s money, I forced my thoughts to turn to Corrigan. Despite our professional difference of opinions, we made a great couple. I loved him and he me. As soon as I got out of my car and headed toward my apartment building, the warm glow I’d cultivated with such effort vanished. The thought of Abby spending all day with my fiancé made me as anxious as a turkey at Thanksgiving.

  I told myself not to worry. She was his new partner, nothing more. Yeah, nothing more than a hot body riding next to him, spending time with him…Stop!

  I unlocked my apartment door and Charlie jumped at me, his wiggling back end a testament to his excitement. After a quick scratch behind his ears, I grabbed the leash and outside we went. I felt a twinge of guilt for not taking him to the dog park, but there was no time.

  He seemed happy enough to sniff around and, once we returned to the apartment, he enthusiastically went after the bowl of food I’d just refreshed before hopping into the shower.

  Getting dressed was a challenge since Charlie thought I wanted to play fetch with my shoes. Corrigan was knocking at my door just as I finished putting on lipstick.

  I greeted him with a kiss and Charlie gave him a good sniff. Discovering a new rawhide treat in Corrigan’s pocket, my dog retreated with his new chew and plopped down by the heat register.