Murder and Mozzarella

by Carole Fowkes

“You wouldn’t have even known I was there if that ranger hadn’t forced me into the crime scene. I just wanted to—”

  “What? Make me look like an idiot? Get in the way of the case?” He hunched over and hissed, “Well, mission accomplished.”

  My heart felt as if it had sunk to my stomach. “I’m sorry.” Then it hit me. “Wait a minute. Are you more upset about how you looked or about the case?”

  He released a weary sigh. “Right now, I’m the public face of this high-profile investigation. My colleagues and my captain need to know I’m not sidetracked by a girlfriend who’s run amok.”

  “Now I get it. Abby said something and it hurt your male ego.” I sat back in the chair, arms crossed over my chest.

  He waved my comment away. “Never mind her. It’s my captain and a pain-in-the-butt reporter who thinks my snooping, always-in-the-way fiancé would make a good angle. I get that you’ve been hired to investigate Parker Vanderson’s murder. I don’t like it, but I understand. Collin Slater’s death is not part of your case, and you need to stay out of it so the media doesn’t use you and me as fodder for some cheap byline.”

  “But it’s all connected. Don’t you see that?”

  He hesitated for a moment and then leaned towards me. “Look, forget for a minute about the reporter. Even about the captain. There are possible connections with this case that if I’m right, you don’t want a part of. I can’t be any clearer than that.” His voice grew harsher. “This case couldn’t get any bigger, or more dangerous. I’d even advise you to refund the retainer Mrs. Vanderson paid you, but I know that won’t happen.”

  Anger, curiosity, and of course, fear do-si-doed around my insides. Unfortunately anger reached my mouth and twisted it. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

  “No. I’m also going to tell you to mind your own business, not the police’s. Now, do you want some tea or not?”

  I weighed my options. Tea and maybe some civil conversation. No tea and no talk. I backed my emotions down. “I’d love some tea.”

  We’d almost finished our hot drinks and polite conversation when Corrigan received a text. He read it and looked up.

  I drained my cup. “I know. You’ve got to go. Just tell me where.”

  “To question Trish Vanderson. I’m not saying she killed Collin Slater, but she was the last to see him alive.”

  My eyebrows lowered. “How do you know that?”

  He tapped his fingers on his cup. “All right. But this is all you get. John Vanderson called the station.”

  That worm.

  I wanted to tell Corrigan about Mark Fenton and J.T. and Jennifer Nelson, but until I had more information, I was sure it’d do no good. Instead, I tried to ply him for more information through coquettishness. “While you’re at it, anything else you’d like to get off your chest?” I batted my eyelashes.

  He chuckled, “No, but it’d be great to have you on my chest.” With an exaggerated leer he added, “Skin-to-skin.”

  Since he clearly wasn’t going to tell me more, I pretended outrage with his comment. “And you call yourself a gentleman!”

  He leaned over and cupped my chin, suddenly serious. “I love you, Claire, and I’d kill anybody who’d hurt you in any way. That’s why I need you to stay out of the Collin Slater case.” With that, he planted a kiss on my lips that left me speechless.

  He stood. “I’m out of here.”

  “I know, crime-solving awaits you.” My lips were still tingling when he walked from the coffee shop.

  With a wistful sigh, I took another sip of tea and left. Fenton Analytics was waiting.

  ***

  By the time I arrived at Mark Fenton’s place of business, Ed was coming out the building. Spotting me, he headed toward my car.

  I lowered the window and I shivered when frigid air rushed in. “Before you tell me what happened, get inside. It’s freezing out there.”

  Once in the warm car, Ed blew into his hands. “Fenton himself wasn’t in, and my charm didn’t work on his secretary. But I did get to see the amazing Jennifer.” He let loose with a wolf whistle. “That woman could defrost Minneapolis in January!”

  My patience worn thin with comely women, I snapped back, “I’m sure my aunt would like to hear all about her.”

  With a slight shrug, he said, “Lena and I both still have two eyes. But we each only have one heart and that’s for each other.”

  The sweetness of that statement produced a worm of guilt inside me. “Sorry. This case must be getting to me.” I rubbed my forehead. “What did you find out?”

  “At first Jennifer didn’t even want to talk to me, but when I pointed out it could be the cops she’d be answering, she opened up. Says she’s known Collin for years. They had a ‘thing’ when they were kids but were just friends since then. Claims she was in Chicago on business when Parker bit the dust and was with a client all day and until about eleven at night when Collin died. But she wasn’t surprised about someone offing Collin. He was, in her words, ‘a climber.’”

  “Anything else?”

  Ed rubbed his chin. “I don’t know how legit this was, but when I asked her about Collin and Trish meeting at the party, she gave me a funny smile. Says she asked her boss, Fenton, to invite Collin because Collin wanted to meet John Vanderson in the worst way. Claimed she didn’t know why, though. But the guy was even happier when Trish showed up in her father’s place.”

  Turning the heat down in my car, he complained, “Man, it’s like a sauna in here!”

  “What about Jennifer and John Vanderson? Are they having an affair?”

  “She denied having anything personal to do with him. But about that…I’d have an easier time believing she owned the Eiffel Tower. Her face didn’t match her words. Know what I mean?”

  “That’s the only thing you didn’t believe?”

  Turning to look straight at me, he said, “Lemme put it this way. Her hello was about the only thing I bought. Just couldn’t tell you why she’s lying.”

  Great.

  Maybe I’d have a woman-to-woman talk with Jennifer myself. But first I wanted to question Mark Fenton to see if his story matched hers. Unless they’d rehearsed the responses together, I doubted it. Corrigan’s warning that this case could include some VIP’s bounced around in my head.

  “Okay, Ed. Thanks. I think I’ll camp in Fenton’s waiting room and see if he shows up.”

  “Sounds like a plan. If you don’t need me anymore, I’ve gotta take off.”

  ***

  Alone again, I entered into the lobby of Fenton Analytics. The attractive young receptionist warned me it’d be a long wait since he wasn’t due back until just before a three o’clock meeting.

  I requested an appointment to see him when he returned. “I’ll just need ten minutes of his time.”

  She sighed dramatically, expanding her already oversized chest. “I’ll ask his assistant. Please have a seat.”

  After whispering into her phone, she motioned for me to approach. “His assistant worked you in. But you only have five minutes. Sorry.”

  Her apology was about as real as the sugarplum fairy. I gave her a stiff smile and thanked her.

  That gave me a couple of hours, enough time to drive to Rocky River Reservation. Maybe I’d get lucky and find Ranger Sutton. My mind occupied with that goal, the ringing of my phone startled me.

  It was my father. “Hey, pumpkin. How’s business?”

  As easy as it would’ve been to pour my frustrations out, I swallowed my emotions like a big girl. “I’m keeping busy.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, Lena told me about the Great Spam Affair. Anything else I should worry about?”

  “No. Not really.” I changed the subject. “How’s Suzy’s salon doing?” My dad’s new wife had opened her own beauty shop less than a year ago, and she was still in the process of building a clientele.

  “Oh, some days she’s swamped. Other’s she’s home early, fussing around.” The warmth in his voi
ce was obvious. My father, for the second time in his life, was in love with his wife. For a moment, Corrigan’s physical absence stung me.

  That sting became a burning in my heart when my dad asked, “I know Brian’s working a big case, but he’s coming here with you for Thanksgiving, isn’t he? I mean, he’s family now.”

  The holiday was a little more than a week away. If Collin’s murder wasn’t solved by then the only way I’d see Corrigan was if he arrested me. But with my fingers crossed for good luck, I told my dad my fiancé would be there.

  “Good. That’ll make seven of us then. Suzy’s younger sister, Hailey, is coming from Vegas. Suzy’s a little nervous about doing the whole Thanksgiving dinner bit, but she’ll do fine.”

  I sighed, hoping Ed and I would be able to stifle any ‘suggestions’ Aunt Lena would have about improving the meal. Then I remembered. “What about Charlie?”

  “Sure. He can come, but…”

  “I know. I’ll figure out something. I don’t want you to sniffle all through dinner and afterward.” I knew it was ridiculous. Charlie wouldn’t know it was Thanksgiving. “I just hate to leave him alone on a holiday.”

  After a few more minutes, we ended the call with our usual ‘love you’s.’ Now that I’d reached the park, I called the non-emergency number I’d dug up to reach Ranger Sutton.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I’d been cruising the park for about fifteen minutes before I realized this was a fool’s task. The phone number to reach the park ranger was nothing more than a recording that hadn’t been of much help in locating Ranger Sutton. So, since I still had time before my meeting with Mark Fenton, and despite the weather turning colder with a wicked wind, I decided to park my car and try to find him by walking around.

  I couldn’t believe my luck when I spotted Mr. Good-looking Ranger emerging from behind the stables.

  I cupped my ice-cold hands around my mouth and yelled, “Ranger Sutton!”

  He turned and upon recognizing me, returned the greeting and hurried over. “Are you here about that murder?” He quickly surveyed my hatless, gloveless self and added, “You’re certainly not dressed for a hike.”

  Shoving my hands into the pockets of my fashionably cute but not very warm jacket, I said, “Actually, I was looking for you.”

  One of his eyebrows rose and he gave me a caddish smile. “Should I be flattered? Is it my boyish charm?”

  Returning his infectious grin, complete with a left dimple, was easy. “Sorry, but you were right. It’s the murder. Besides,” I flashed my engagement ring. “I’m taken.”

  In an exaggerated show of mock regret, he shook his head. “The good ones usually are.” His face turned serious. “What about the murder were you hoping to find?”

  Forcing my teeth to stop chattering I asked, “Could you tell me exactly what you reported to the police?”

  “And I should tell you, why?”

  “As you know, I’m a private investigator, and I represent the mother of the deceased’s fiancé. I’m trying for her sake to get to the bottom of this.”

  “With or without the police, huh?”

  Just when I thought he wouldn’t help me, the ranger said, “Let’s walk. It’ll keep your blood flowing.” He tossed me a pair of gloves. “I always keep an extra pair on me.”

  Slipping my hands into the too-large but so warm gloves, I thanked him and began my interrogation. “First of all, what led you to the body?”

  “In all honesty, what I was doing was making sure you hadn’t come back for more Spam cans.” He frowned. “By the way, I noticed somebody had also been digging in a couple other spots.” One eyebrow rose. “I hope whoever did that doesn’t ever do it again on park property.”

  I cleared my throat and glanced away.

  He continued. “Anyway, I saw a foot sticking up out of the leaves. That’s all I can tell you. Oh, the guy was missing a shoe. Don’t know if the cops found it or not.”

  The cops didn’t find it because Charlie did. I swallowed hard and nonchalantly responded with, “The shoe probably didn’t mean anything anyway.” Where did Charlie drop that thing?

  Although he didn’t pursue the topic, the skeptical look on the ranger’s face told me what he thought of my comment.

  In a hurry to stop where this conversation was heading, I gave him a smile as sweet as pecan pie. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. It’s much appreciated.”

  The ranger beamed. “Would you like to grab a cup of coffee? I’m due for a break just about now.”

  I had a shoe to hunt. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the case, but it wouldn’t hurt to find it. Giving the ranger my most sincere look, I declined his offer. “I’d love to, but I’ve got an appointment to keep.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

  We said our goodbyes back at my car. I slid inside and turned the heater on full blast. Driving away, I remembered I had his fur-lined gloves. Had I unconsciously kept them so I’d have another chance to see him? Ridiculous! I loved Corrigan. But I remembered Ed’s words about having two eyes. My mouth turned upward into a smile, but disappeared quickly as I tried to recall the exact spot where I last saw Charlie with Collin’s shoe in his mouth.

  My spirits sank even deeper as my hopes of finding the footwear dwindled. There was a good chance another animal scurried off with it. Maybe the police discovered it. But Saint Anthony, the patron saint of lost things, must have heard my short prayer. From my car window, I spotted the shoe lying in a pile of wet leaves. I screeched to a stop.

  Although there were probably no usable fingerprints, I gingerly picked up the damp, gnawed footwear with a pen and slipped it into a plastic grocery bag I’d found in the backseat of my car. My intention was to bring the shoe to the police, but first I had to get back to meet with Mark Fenton.

  I made it to his office with only five minutes to spare.

  Fenton rose from behind his desk to greet me, but his manner was curt. “I know you’re a private detective hired by Marlene Vanderson. But why are you here?”

  “I don’t believe Trish killed her stepbrother, and I’m hoping you can help shed some light on the identity of the real murderer.”

  “The police would disagree with you about Trish’s innocence.” His left eye twitched ever-so-slightly. “Still, it’s hard to believe she killed her own stepbrother. Not that Parker didn’t have it coming.”

  “Why was that?”

  He snorted. “Almost from birth, that kid destroyed lives. He was the real reason John and his first wife split up. Parker was into drugs, alcohol, gambling, sex, you name it. That boy was a living example of the seven deadly sins.”

  “Do you know what he was involved in just before he died?”

  He scribbled a name on a notepad, ripped out the sheet, and handed it to me. “Go talk to this…person. Now, I need to get to my meeting.”

  “Just one more thing, please. I understand Collin Slater met Trish Vanderson at your party. Do you know why Collin was so interested in meeting her father?”

  He waved my question away as if it were an annoying gnat. “Business venture, I assume. But Slater found something even better, didn’t he?”

  There was a knock at his door. “They’re waiting, Mr. Fenton.”

  The executive glanced at me, straightened his tie, and opened the door widely to his assistant. “Please make sure Ms. DeNardo finds her way out.”

  Outside the office building, I looked at the name Fenton had written. Brandi Carpenter.

  I blew out a deep breath. Another character in this macabre tale of murder and betrayal. Before I could dig into what role Brandi played, I needed to take the shoe to the police. I pressed my lips together tightly, steeling myself for the onslaught of questions about how I got it.

  Knowing I’d never get past the receptionist again today, I abandoned any hope of talking to Jennifer Nelson, at least at her office. So off to the police station I drove.

  Upon reaching the station, I spotted Abby hurry
ing into the building. Corrigan wasn’t with her. I told myself that turning the shoe over to her and going on my way would probably be the right and the most expedient thing to do. When it came to that woman, though, rules and common sense went out the window. The shoe would go to Corrigan. Of course, he’d grill me about where I got it and why I didn’t give it to Abby, but that’d be better than me helping her get an upper hand. I even resisted calling Corrigan, knowing he’d tell me to turn the shoe into Abby. So I sat there.

  It was petty, and childish, and not really in anybody’s best interest, but if Abby was here, Corrigan couldn’t be far behind. That rationalization had me waiting and waiting so long the windows of my car fogged up. I wouldn’t have been able to see if Corrigan did return.

  Finally, the adult in me took back control. I toted the plastic bag into the station and asked for Detective Corrigan on the off-chance I missed him. The desk officer informed me Corrigan wasn’t in and, as I feared, called Abby over.

  The last time I’d seen Corrigan, he looked like he’d been working a case on little food and less sleep. Abby appeared fresh and model-perfect. She probably popped out of bed looking like that.

  I squelched my jealousy and handed her the plastic bag containing Collin’s loafer. “I believe this might be Collin Slater’s missing shoe.”

  She glanced in the bag, then back at me. Her eyes narrowed, “You knew the victim was missing one?” She pushed that line of questions away with a manicured hand. “Never mind. Thank you for bringing this in. Let’s step over to my desk for your statement, and so I can get this to the lab.” No animosity or sarcasm. She acted so professionally, my phodar, phoniness radar, kicked in.

  Where had the pleasantness come from? Had Corrigan talked to her? Much as I wanted to know, there was no time to find out. I had at least one murder to solve. So after telling her where, to the best of my memory, I’d first seen the shoe, I headed back to my office. It was time to find out what I could about Brandi and her connection to Parker.

  No sooner had I sat at my desk than Corrigan called. No greeting. He began with, “I heard you found the shoe. Thanks for turning it over to Abby.”