Plateful of Murder

by Carole Fowkes

  Jezebel pounced. “Really?” She scooped my hand up in hers. “You’re great. I mean it. Anytime someone needs an investigator, I’ll make sure they have your name.”

  I rubbed my forehead, already regretting my generosity, especially since it was using borrowed money. Guilt crept up on me. My promise to Dad to repay him with this contract money now became impossible. Not if I wanted to eat and pay Michael back for the dance lessons.

  We settled up and an ecstatic Jezebel thanked me even as she walked out my door. She even promised to invite me to the wedding. At least I knew someone who could dance with me there.

  Busy berating myself for being a softie, I ignored the phone ringing until I realized the caller was Mallorie. She wanted to meet with me to talk about Constance. That was a shock, and questions boomeranged in my mind, but they went unasked. Afraid of spooking her, I played it cool, keeping my comments to a minimum, and quickly agreeing on a time and place.

  Calling Michael crossed my mind. Or maybe Ed. Even Detective Corrigan’s name popped into my head, but in the end, I decided it was my case to follow through.

  Stuffing two granola bars in my purse, I headed out to meet Mallorie. The congested roads stretched my fifteen minute drive into twenty-five. Frustrated and overheated, I hustled into the café where Mallorie sat at a back table, drinking from a jumbo plastic cup. She tilted her chin towards me, then looked at her cell phone and frowned.

  I pulled up a chair. “Sorry for being a little late. Traffic was—”

  She nodded. “A bitch, I know, but one of us is on the clock.” She scanned the room, then looked straight at me, biting her lower lip.

  I thought maybe she needed some prompting. “You wanted to see me about Constance.”

  Her eyes darted back and forth. “Yeah, I, uh, Ed told me I could trust you.”

  Good for Ed. “Do you want to talk about who killed Constance?”

  She drummed her fingers against her cheek. “Maybe.”

  I leaned in so close it looked like I was moving in for a kiss. “If you know something, why haven’t you gone to the police?”

  “Let’s just say it isn’t in my best interest.” She checked the time again. “Can’t talk about it now. I gotta get back to work.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “Look, I need help.”

  One murder, two clients? If this kept up my business would be booming. “Come by at 6:00 tonight.” I handed her my card.

  She snatched it and without looking at the card or me, she tossed her now empty plastic cup in the trash. Without another word, she hurried out of the café.

  Upset with myself about ruining the meeting with Mallorie, I had to make sure my encounter with Ed would be successful so I stopped at the bank. Whatever information he’d provide would require a payment. I withdrew as much as I could afford, and counted each dollar, afraid Ed might withhold a vital piece of information due to a lack of funds.

  Ed was leaning against the wall near Triton’s back entrance. It was a mystery how the man unearthed anything since he seemed to always be on break. Once he saw me approach, he shook a cigarette out from a crushed soft pack. “Hi there, Miss Private Investigator. What can I do you for?”

  “Mallorie contacted me.”

  He whistled through his teeth. “That was fast. She must be plenty scared.”

  I had my hand on my wallet, realizing nothing he’d tell me would be free. “What do you know about it?”

  He placed his interlaced fingers across his belly. “Depends on the green.”

  I pulled out a five, hoping that was green enough for him.

  He shook his head. “Whatever happened to the twenty we talked about?” He pointed his unlit cigarette at me. “And you still owe me from the last time.”

  Claiming amnesia might make him angry, so I added a ten to the five. “Here’s the rest of what I owe you. How about you advance me your information?”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Have to hand it to you. You’ve got nerve.”

  Unfortunately, not much of that, but I kept going. “Once this case is solved, I’ll have more than enough money to pay off my debt and then some.” My mouth drooped and my sad eyes stared at him as if I was a poor orphan and he was withholding the porridge.

  He lit his cigarette, inhaled deeply and blew out a ring of smoke. “I’m already deep in it, so what the hell.”

  I suppressed a smile, afraid he’d change his mind or think I was taking advantage. Maybe I was a little, but for a good cause. “Thank you.” He nodded and I pushed forward. “Are you sure Mallorie is blackmailing someone?”

  He looked at me like I’d just asked him if he knew how to spell his name. “And I bet she’s squeezin’ tight. Not that she admitted as much to me though. My money’s on Eagleton for the one she’s blackmailing. He probably only took so much, and now he’s getting ugly about it.”

  Nerves started playing a tune in my head and my shoulders stiffened to join in. “So you think she wants me to protect her from the murderer she’s blackmailing?”

  “You got it.” He tilted his chin toward the right. “Don’t look now, but Eagleton’s flunky is prancing over.”

  Despite Ed’s warning, I turned my head. Sean marched toward us, face puckered like he smelled something rancid. His rant was directed at me. “Why are you back? If it’s to harass Mr. Eagleton or anyone else for that matter, I suggest you leave now. We’ve been more than cooperative.”

  Ed stepped in. “Whoa, Cowboy. The lady came here to shoot the breeze with me about dance lessons.”

  A flimsy explanation, but I nodded like some bobble head. “That’s right. Ed’s a fantastic instructor. Anybody could learn from him, he’s...” My words drifted off.

  Sean wasn’t buying it. “It’s plain to see what you’re up to.” He squinted and crossed his arms. “It’s a shame about what happened, but nothing will bring Constance back.”

  That flippancy got to me. “Finding her killer could bring justice though.” I stared right at him, hoping he’d blink first.

  Sean averted his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “Whatever. You need to leave. This is company property.” A vein throbbed in his temple. “No one will talk to you.”

  “Mallor—” I pressed my lips together, two syllables too late.

  Sean’s face turned red. “Mallorie? What has she told you?”

  “Nothing.” I wanted to kick myself. ”I just meant—” My mind blanked. “She was friendly.”

  Ed filled in. “Mallorie’s a dance instructor too.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “But if Ms. DeNardo shouldn’t be here, I’ll make sure she stays away.”

  Sean huffed and gave me the evil eye. “She better.” He stomped off.

  I glared at Ed. “Thanks for nothing. That shoots my intention of snooping around here.”

  Ed flicked his cigarette. It arced and landed right in the ashtray/trashcan. “You don’t need to. I can do all that while I’m doing my job. No one’ll be the wiser.”

  “Deal. I can use the extra ears and eyes.” We shook hands as I calculated how much all this would cost me.

  After leaving Triton I called Michael to let him know about Mallorie coming to my office that evening, but said nothing about my deal with Ed. After the way Michael and Ed had reacted to each other at the dance class, like two rival gang members, it was clear they needed to stay in their own corners. This case was complicated enough without them bumping heads. Plus, I didn’t want anything to come between Michael and me. And his veal piccata.

  Keeping busy in my office, sorting my numerous bills and trying to figure out which could be paid this month, helped me pass the time. But by 6:00 p.m. everything had been cleared from my desk in anticipation of Mallorie’s visit. She’d be the sole focus of my attention.

  A quarter after the hour, I wondered if Mallorie had changed her mind, or maybe she wanted to pay me back for my tardiness that afternoon. If either were true, it’d be necessary to revise my plan for getting the lowdown on John Luther
, the soon-to-be-president of Triton. He was enamored with Constance and she likely felt equally infatuated with his money and position.

  Sean’s behavior then popped into my head. He’d seemed awfully, what? Nervous? Irritated? Maybe he deserved another look, especially since he came on so strong during my last visit. He sure didn’t want the investigation centering on Triton. But if he was Eagleton’s flunky, he could just be following orders from his boss. Still, it might be worthwhile doing some digging on him.

  Around 6:20, there was a loud thump against my office door, but I didn’t exactly hustle to get to it. If Mallorie wanted to prove a point by showing up late, she could wait a few seconds. I strolled over and opened the door, ready to greet her with businesslike aplomb. Hard to do though, when her body lay crumpled at my feet. Except for her, the hallway was deserted.

  Chapter Eight

  I knelt down and pushed back Mallorie’s hair to check her pulse. My hands shook so badly it was hard to be sure, but it didn’t seem like she had one. I was certain of it upon spotting the thin red line circling her neck.

  A cold chill ran down me and I thought I’d be sick. When the worst wave of nausea passed, I pulled myself up, stumbled to the phone and called 911. Rubbing my eyes hard didn’t remove the vision of her being murdered right outside my office. The nausea returned full blast when I realized the only thing separating me from the killer had been a plywood door.

  The uniformed police came quickly, but not as fast as Detective Corrigan. As if he sat on the edge of his desk chair waiting for me to be involved in something unsavory, like another murder.

  While the coroner inspected Mallorie’s body, Corrigan scowled at me. “Well, Ms. DeNardo, I see you’ve been very busy with Triton personnel.”

  “This wasn’t my doing.” My voice squeaked like one of the mice in Disney’s Cinderella. “Mallorie contacted me. Said she had something to discuss tonight.” I pushed my hair from my face with shaky hands.

  “Why don’t you have a seat,” his voice low and comforting. I did just that, preferring not to keel over. He rolled the desk chair around to face me. “Okay, give it to me from the beginning.”

  For one of the few times in my life, skipping a meal had been a good thing. Second appearances are not pleasant. “She called and said she wanted to talk.” I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose. Despite trying to look like I had it under control, my eyes watered and my nose ran. “She wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone but she was scared. My advice to her was to go to the police, but she wouldn’t listen.” Blinking hard to hold back any tears. “She may have been blackmailing Constance Adler’s killer.”

  Corrigan’s eyes sparked for a moment, but nothing else betrayed his emotions. In a voice designed to exude calmness he asked, “What makes you think that? Did she give you any hint as to the killer’s identity?”

  I reached for another tissue. “No.” I didn’t want to give Ed’s part away. “She just said we’d discuss it tonight at our 6:00 appointment.” I paused until I could trust my voice. “At 6:20, there was a thump against my door and when I opened it, she was lying there, dead.” My fist flew up to my mouth to block a whimper.

  For a moment Detective Corrigan watched me try to hold it together. At last he rose and got me a cup of water from the break room. “Maybe she was a blackmailer, maybe not. All we know is, someone wanted her dead. Strangulation marks look like it was done with a thin cord.”

  He sat down again, our knees almost touching. “Did you see anyone else when you opened the door?”

  Shredding the wet tissue, I shook my head. “Didn’t hear anything either.” My throat tightened. If I had seen or heard anything, my body might have been found next to Mallorie’s.

  After making sure nobody suspicious was hanging around, the uniformed cops took off, but Corrigan lagged behind. “Will you be okay?”

  I nodded, but looked away.

  He didn’t buy it. “Look, I’m off-duty as of,” he glanced at his watch. “an hour ago. Why don’t we get out of here and grab some coffee.”

  Curling up in my bed and hiding under the covers appealed to me more, but I agreed to go. The truth was I didn’t need coffee. I needed a pound of chocolate and a stiff drink.

  We sat in the coffee shop, him with coffee and me with tea, not saying a word. I rested my chin in my cupped hand to keep it from quivering. Finally Corrigan broke the silence. “It’s unfortunate you were the one to find her. First time for a dead body?”

  I dropped my hands and absently stirred my tea. “Sorry for not handling it better. PIs are supposed to be made of sterner stuff.”

  “Maybe, but you’re doing okay.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Your cases are mostly hubby cheats on wife, or vise versa?”

  There wasn’t any sarcasm in his voice and he actually looked interested, but now was not the time to give him my autobiography. “I take cases that interest me.”

  He rubbed his cheek hard. “A little advice. Refund your client’s money. This isn’t a case for a rookie.” After a pause he added, “Another thing. Get a gun and learn how to use it. You’ll feel safer and maybe I won’t worry as much.”

  Nothing would have pleased me more than to give up the case and go back to my long distance lens, but Michael depended on me. Corrigan was probably right about getting a gun though.

  The detective drained his coffee cup. “It’s getting late.” He pushed back his chair. “I’ll take you to your car and follow you home. Even see you to your door, if that’ll make you feel better.”

  “It would.” No use in playing tough. I wanted to stay alive and the night’s events scared me so much it was doubtful I’d ever sleep with both eyes closed again. Telling myself Mallorie had been the target, not me, didn’t convince the standing-at-attention hairs on the back of my neck to lay down either.

  ***

  I unlocked the door to my apartment and waited in the hallway while Corrigan looked everywhere, in my closets, even under my unmade bed. After a moment, he peeked out the door. “All clear.”

  “Thank you for going out of your way.” My breathing became normal again.

  He smiled, showing dimples any female would kill for. “No trouble. I want you to feel safe.”

  He’d have to sleep on the floor next to my bed, gun drawn, for me to feel safe again. Rather than say that, I said, “It’s much appreciated.”

  His face grew solemn, like lecturing me was next. Instead, he stepped out to stand beside me. “I did find something under the bed. These.” He held out a small silky bit of material.

  Blood rushed to my face. He’d found my dancing elves Christmas undies. I snatched them from him and murmured something inane like, “Wondered where those were.”

  Now that he’d checked out my place, I felt foolish and not much of a private investigator. Next I’d be taking Buddy, my stuffed bear, to bed with me.

  Buddy’s fake fur tickled my nose and woke me up. Just as well since that’s when the ringing began. I patted the end table searching for the source of the annoying noise. My phone. No one ever calling that late had good news. My heartbeat sped up a notch. “Hello?”

  Silence. Then the caller, sounding like he’d just had throat surgery started to sing a familiar tune. But with very different words.

  “First little piggy wanted too much,

  Second little piggy knew so much.

  Dead little piggy, will you be,

  Learning too much, can’t you see?”

  It felt like someone injected ice into my veins. “Who is this?”

  A dial tone was my only answer.

  Chapter Nine

  I flicked on the lights and scanned my room, knowing in my gut nobody was there. But who hasn’t seen all those scary movies where the villain steps out of the darkness? With my mind scattered in terrifying directions, holding myself together seemed next to impossible.

  I threw on my clothes and whipped open my apartment door, my can of mace in my hand. I’ve got to get a gun. The hallway was
empty. Thank God, since I had no clue what action to take had the killer been there. Pound on old Mrs. Hennessy’s door and ask her to call the police?

  With the coast clear, I dashed to my car, cranked it up and sped out of the parking lot with no idea where to go. Not to my father’s. He worried about me already. While Aunt Lena could kill anyone with her rolling pin, there was no sense in involving her.

  My hands ached from gripping the steering wheel, making it even more of a challenge to punch in the number Detective Corrigan gave me. It took two tries to get it right. When he answered, my words tumbled out.

  He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Where are you now?”

  “In my car, driving…to a friend’s house.” No sense in giving him details. He might have disapproved.

  “Okay, but first thing tomorrow morning, come into the station and we’ll see if we can trace the call. We’ll also put a tap on your cell and office phones.” He paused, and more gently asked, “You’ll stay with your friend the rest of the night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. And don’t put off coming in tomorrow. We need to solve this before anyone else gets hurt.” A pause. “Claire?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m glad you called me.”

  My stomach had been lodged in my throat, but it drifted back to its rightful spot. “Me too.”

  The moment the call ended however, fear took hold again. My foot pressed down hard on the gas pedal, and I sped toward my destination.

  Michael’s place. Although his lights were on, I struggled with what to say at this hour. Mallorie was dead, and I just received a threat. How’s that for the nightly news? I rapped on his front door, feeling foolish and ashamed waiting there in the dark. Gino probably didn’t even think he needed to make a rule against a PI running to the client when she was scared. If he doesn’t answer, I’ll slip away and he’ll never know.