Sister Sleuths Mystery Box Set

by Rayna Morgan

  "No problem; we'll work it out."

  "Swell. I'd hate to blow the engine out by not getting it taken care of in time. I've done that before."

  "Yeah; me, too."

  • • •

  Pat took orders and served drinks, all the time thinking up a strategy. She now knew when to access Mickey's office to get a look at his computer. By the time her break came, she had a game plan figured out, but there were a couple of hitches. One problem would be access. Mickey was certain to lock his office when he left to take his mother to lunch, but she could handle that. The other problem was the two goons Mickey would leave behind. She needed help with that one.

  She clocked out on the computer at the bartender's station, walked to her car, and retrieved one of the burner phones from the glove compartment. The number she dialed went straight through to Jones. They kept their conversation brief as an extra precaution. His only reply when he heard her request was he'd take care of it. She had no idea what to expect.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Thoughts were buzzing in Lea's head as she entered the Apex. She hoped Camilla had talked with her husband and that the invitation for her and Paul to have a late lunch with the Russos was a good sign. Angelo was beaming when he grasped her hands in welcoming her to the restaurant.

  "Ah, the loveliest rose in the garden," his eyes twinkled, "except my Camilla, of course."

  Lea smiled. "I know we aren't expected until later, but Paul wanted to have a glass of wine with me to discuss something that's come up at his office. We'll be here whenever you and Camilla are ready."

  "I'll take you to the table I have reserved for the four of us. My rose petal will be here soon. Please let me send a bottle of wine to the table which pairs beautifully with our featured lunch entree."

  "I heard that; sounds great. Thanks, Angelo," Paul said, joining them and shaking hands. He used his other hand to circle his wife's waist.

  "He's in a jolly mood," Paul observed, watching Angelo walk away after seating them at a table offering a panoramic view of the ocean. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

  "I may have, but I'll let them tell you themselves when they join us."

  Most of the lunch crowd had dispersed. Lea and Paul enjoyed looking out at people strolling on the Boardwalk beside the Pier as they caught up on each other's day. Out of the corner of her eye, Lea saw a familiar figure rushing out of the kitchen and called out. "Julia."

  The woman looked absently in their direction. Concern registered on Julia’s face as she recognized them. She took two steps toward their table, mumbled something about having no time, turned and hurried out of the restaurant.

  "That was odd," Lea noted. Within moments of resuming their conversation, Camilla approached the table, smiles from ear to ear. Paul stood to pull out a chair, introducing himself to her.

  "Angelo will be here in a moment but before he comes," she said, taking Lea's hands in her own, "I want to thank you for giving me the courage to speak with my husband.

  "I assume from the mood he's in that it went well."

  "It couldn't have gone better. I should have told Angelo sooner. I don't know why I ever doubted how he would react to my desire to get a degree."

  Paul looked confused, but when Angelo joined them, he was more than happy to fill in the details about what had transpired. He finished by saying, "I am so proud of her. I've already called an architect to design the most magnificent home office for my girl where she can look things up on her computer and study to her heart's content. She will be the smartest student ever."

  "Now, now," Camilla blushed. "I will be happy to receive a diploma. I have no need to turn into an Einstein. We'll see where things go from there."

  Lea was happy for Angelo. It was such a welcome change from the strain he had been under at the luncheon days earlier. She and Paul smiled as he babbled on, exalting first his wife and then Lea for helping to restore their happiness. "To celebrate, I've taken the liberty of ordering the day's special for all of us; stroganoff made from a family recipe."

  "Would one of those ingredients be mushrooms?" Lea asked, scrunching up her nose. They all laughed.

  "Of course, dear, they're essential to the dish. I saved the very best for us and taste-tested them myself moments before the chef put them in the sauce."

  "We saw Julia coming from the kitchen moments before Camilla arrived. She appeared highly agitated; didn't even stop to say hello. Has something happened, Angelo?"

  "She wanted to talk to me about the sale of the property while I was having lunch today. She didn't realize I wouldn't be eating alone. I told her something which upset her."

  "What was that, darling?" Camilla asked.

  Angelo grasped his wife's hand as he looked at Lea and Paul. "Hearing my wife tell me last night she was afraid I wouldn't be sensitive to her desire to get a degree made me realize I've been insensitive to other people as well lately. Barrett Mason was a close friend for years. I knew him like a brother. His desire was to keep the Theatre going. He was more interested in sustaining the arts than lining his own pocket. I admire him for that. The least I can do to honor his memory is to carry out his wishes. I called Julia this morning to tell her I've changed my mind about selling to the hotel chain. I want to keep the Theatre going. She came over to talk me out of what she called a sentimental decision I'd regret."

  Camilla stroked her husband's cheek. "I'm proud of you, dearest."

  As salads were served, Angelo asked if Lea had been able to remove him from Tom's list of suspects.

  "I'm sorry to report I haven't made much progress in convincing Tom he's unjustly accusing you of something you didn't do." Lines furrowed her brow creating tiny crows' feet at the corners of her eyes. "It's not fair. He gets going in one direction, and he can't change course. I called him this morning with the news about Camilla which should have eliminated one of your purported motives."

  "What did he say?"

  "He said he'd take my information under advisement."

  "Sounds fair to me," Paul reasoned.

  Lea ignored her husband's comment. "Dealing with that man can be extremely frustrating at times."

  "Funny, he says the same thing about dealing with you and your sister,” Paul replied. “By the way, this salad is delicious, Angelo. My compliments."

  Angelo beamed. "Wait until you taste the stroganoff."

  The other three at the table got no chance to enjoy his family's recipe. Halfway through the meal, Angelo grabbed his chest and slumped over his plate.

  • • •

  By the time Tom arrived, the medics had taken Angelo away in an ambulance. Lea comforted Camilla with the news the medics indicated Angelo had suffered a case of food poisoning and would recover with no complications. She agreed to accompany Camilla to the hospital as soon as they checked in with Tom.

  The women approached the table where Paul was giving Tom details of what had transpired. "The medics said it looked like a form of food poisoning," Lea reported. "That's not your usual bailiwick, Tom."

  His response surprised her. "Poisoning is, of late. I called the hospital to tell the doctor to run tests for mushroom poisoning. I'd bet my reputation that's what we're dealing with here."

  "Are you suggesting this was a case of intentional poisoning?" Paul asked.

  "I wouldn't be here if I thought this was run-of-the-mill food poisoning. Besides, why did none of the other lunch patrons suffer the same symptoms?" He stood up, pulling out a chair for Camilla to sit down. "This may be hard for you to hear, Mrs. Russo, but yes, I think we're dealing with intentional poisoning. My biggest question is whether the mushrooms were in the stroganoff sauce or the salad. Did you all eat the same salad as Angelo?"

  Camilla answered first. "I don't eat salad. I'm a light eater. I do well to finish an entree."

  Tom turned to Lea. "Paul and I ordered the fruit salad. Angelo was the only one who had a mixed green salad."

  "Then he would have been the one exposed to water hem
lock."

  "Are you implying whoever murdered Barrett Mason attempted to murder Angelo?" Lea cast a skeptical eye.

  "Not exactly." He looked at Camilla. "Perhaps you should inform the restaurant employees of your husband's condition and prepare to go to the hospital. I'll finish my business with Lea so she'll be ready to take you."

  He watched as the woman walked away, then turned abruptly, leaning over the table. His eyes locked on Lea's like magnets. "I think this little scenario provided the perfect opportunity for your client to stage a mild case of poisoning to paint himself as a victim and distract us from arresting him for Mason's murder.”

  "You can't be serious."

  "I'm deadly serious, to use a pun. I believe Russo arranged his own non-lethal poisoning to make himself look innocent."

  "But you indicated yourself hemlock poisoning is harder to control. If Angelo used hemlock disguised as parsley, he had no guarantee he wouldn't end up killing himself. The man had just found out the truth about his wife; they were happily reconciled. He'd never take the chance of killing himself or letting her go through that agony."

  "I think the man was willing to risk anything to save the profit he'd make from the sale of the Theatre. He couldn't afford the possibility of an arrest skewing the deal."

  "You've got it all wrong. If anything, an attempt on his life should clear Angelo as a suspect."

  "If I'm wrong, our weekly wine and dine is on me for a month." He punched Paul's shoulder before turning to walk out. "Better put some money aside, pal. That bet works both ways. Your wife just cost you."

  Paul glanced at his wife, smoldering with indignation. He tried weakly to defend his friend. "By nature, you see everyone in the best light. Tom's not doing his job if he doesn't look at people in the worst light."

  "What must he think of us?" The question was dripping with sarcasm.

  "You know very well he doesn't consider friends from that point of view."

  "Are you sure he's capable of separating his professional and personal life?"

  Paul reached across the table to take his wife's hand. "You need to turn the negative energy you're feeling toward Tom into solving this case and finding the real murderer. Besides," he added, flashing a smile which melted her anger, "I'm not up for footing a dinner tab for four every week for a month."

  • • •

  Later that day, Tom took Pat with him when he returned to Chad's condo for further questioning.

  "Really, Lieutenant," the actor complained. "This is becoming tiresome."

  "This time, I've come with Officer Fisher." Tom locked eyes with Pat in mutual understanding. "She'd like to take a look around while you and I chat."

  "What the blazes? You have no right. I demand to call my lawyer."

  Tom pulled a warrant from his pocket. "This piece of paper says I have every right. Go ahead and make your call. Your lawyer will confirm what I'm saying."

  Chad lowered his arm and let them enter. "Alright, go ahead. But don't make a mess of things." Tom could detect fear in his voice as well as anger. "I'm meticulous; all of my things are arranged just so. I expect to find them that way when you leave."

  The Lieutenant rolled his eyes, pointing at the back rooms as the place for Pat to start her search. He sat down intentionally blocking Chad's view of the Officer's activities. "We've had some developments in the case. I'm re-interviewing people who were at the Theatre the night of the murder."

  "What new developments?" He looked more irritated than interested.

  "We've learned a possible cause of Barrett Mason's death was a poisonous mushroom known as the Death Cap. Now we have another potential victim on our hands."

  The look on Chad's face was hard to read. His eyes narrowed to slits as he carefully placed his cup on the glass coffee table. "When did Barrett eat this so-called poisonous mushroom?"

  "Given the time of death, he must have eaten it at the Pre-Opening Dinner."

  Chad squirmed before leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "Then this next bit of information is not going to put me in a very favorable light."

  "I already know what you're about to tell me. I've heard about your presentation of the so-called lucky mushroom to Barrett. Serving up death on a silver platter, were you?"

  The young man's eyes flashed contempt. He leaned back nonchalantly resting his arm on the back of the settee. "Julia put me up to it. Barrett and I had exchanged some rather heated words the day before his death. I'm sure you've heard about that as well."

  "We'll get to it. Please continue."

  "She suggested the Pre-Opening Dinner could be an opportunity for me to get back in his good graces. She arranged the seating so the table I hosted would be next to his."

  "What was she suggesting?"

  "Barrett's considered mushrooms good luck since his days of getting high on them. He insists on holding a silly ritual at every Pre-Opening Dinner where he's presented with a giant mushroom to assure the production will go well. Julia suggested I be the one to make the presentation as a gesture of good will."

  "You're suggesting you were an innocent pawn for Julia? Or were you acting more as a lover's accomplice?"

  A look of disgust flooded his face. "You've got to be kidding. You suspect me of having some kind of thing for Julia? Au contraire; it was quite the opposite. She came onto me. I rebuffed her advances. Called her an old bag. Said I didn't know how Barrett put up with her. Told her the only thing Barrett and I had in common was neither one of us was attracted to her physically, sexually, or in any other way, and Barrett only stayed with her because she's part-owner of the Theatre.”

  "We'll try to verify your story with Julia, but it's unlikely she’ll be willing to disclose your version of things."

  "You mentioned another victim. Who is it?"

  "Angelo Russo. He owns the restaurant at the top of the Tower."

  Relief flooded Chad's face. "I know who he is. You can't seriously suspect me. What possible reason would I have to poison the owner of the Apex? I hardly know the man other than to say hello when my friends and I go there to dine. He always seats us at one of his best tables. Not because we're friends but because he's a good businessman. He knows actors always draw crowds."

  Tom shook his head, but the egotistic actor might be right. They both turned at the sound of Pat's voice calling. "I need your help, Lieutenant. There's a room back here I can't access."

  Chad grudgingly produced a key and opened the door but remained standing in the doorway.

  "Step aside," Tom ordered.

  The small room was lit by recessed ceiling lighting which cast an eerie glow over a cedar built-in wardrobe closet. Instead of shirts and sweaters, the shelves displayed drug paraphernalia of every kind: hashish pipes, smoking masks, bongs, freebase kits, syringes, and roach clips. An examination of the drawers revealed vials, hypodermic needles, and miniature spoons.

  "Quite the candy store," Pat exclaimed, snapping pictures with her camera.

  The actor looked sheepish. "I don't partake myself. It gratifies me to provide ways for my guests to enjoy themselves."

  "Is that the sorry excuse you give yourself?" Tom growled. "I'd call it inducement into your spider's web."

  "Look at this, Lieutenant." Pat picked up a hollowed-out cosmetic case. "This is probably what he uses to transport his drugs. It would fit right in as part of the makeup he uses at the Theatre."

  The top shelf of the wardrobe contained what appeared to be a locked cash box. Tom pointed to it, looking at Chad. "If you wouldn't mind."

  "Do it yourself," Chad snapped, hurling a ring of keys at Tom. "It's the smallest one."

  "Bingo, Officer, here's the candy," the Detective announced, holding up small zipper storage bags containing multi-colored pills and white powder. "Get this stuff over to the lab for analysis. Put one of our locks on this room and escort our actor friend to the station."

  Pushing shut the drawer containing vials and needles, he added, "And check with the lab to
see if they pulled any fingerprints off the vial I picked up from Lea, the one found on the rocks next to the bike path our suspect uses to get to rehearsals."

  Tom looked at Chad. A small smile played across his face. "You told me before there's nothing Barrett could have told your father which would have surprised him. Does that statement still hold true?"

  "I want to call my lawyer."

  • • •

  Lea went to the Theatre to give Julia the news about Angelo. She was as interested in seeing the woman's reaction as she was in giving her the news her friend would be alright.

  Julia's office was empty, but there was noise coming from Barrett's office. She pushed open the partially closed door to find Dianne Thomas going through the drawers of his desk. Dianne appeared surprised but not flustered. "If you're looking for Julia, she's out for the day. I don't expect her until tonight."

  "Can she be reached by phone?"

  "She said she'd be out of pocket, but you can leave her a message." She looked down at the desk drawers pulled out in a haphazard fashion. "Julia told me to pack up Mr. Mason's desk. She took what she needed and wants the rest put in storage so someone else can use this office."

  "Moving on, is she?" Lea regretted the comment the moment it left her mouth. She hadn't intended to sound so callous.

  "So am I, actually."

  "You are?” Lea was genuinely surprised. “I thought you liked working for the Theatre."

  "The Director I worked for before didn't like London after all. He says it rains too much, the food is bland, and the cost of living is high even by Los Angeles standards. He's offered me my old position. I've accepted."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. Are you glad?"

  "I am now. Mr. Mason's specter hangs over the Theatre. It's oppressive."

  "What about Chad?" Lea asked tentatively.

  "Oh, him. I may be a little naïve at times, but I'm not stupid. I don't stand a chance with him. But you know what, I don't care anymore."

  "Good for you, you deserve better."

  "I agree. It's time for me to be happy."