Plateful of Murder

by Carole Fowkes

  I released a sigh and covered his hand with mine. “Michael, in Detective Corrigan’s cynical mind, everyone is a suspect. Don’t let him get to you. You already have enough to deal with.”

  Sitting there in a heavy silence, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d seen Corrigan and me talking last night. Best way to find out was to stick my toe in the water and see if anything bit me. “By the way, when did he visit you?” To my own ears, the strain in my voice made it sound like I’d been the one who committed a crime.

  Michael didn’t skip a beat. “A bit after you left.” He half-smiled. “Glad you weren’t around to hear that.”

  Making a clicking noise like a kid caught with a stolen gumball in my mouth, I nodded. “That means two of us are glad.”

  “Hate to interrupt all this gladness.” It was Corrigan, barging through my office door like a fireman into a burning building.

  Chapter Sixteen

  There was no misinterpreting the scowl on my face upon realizing I’d left my office door open, allowing every Tom, Dick and Corrigan inside.

  Michael jumped to his feet. “I’ve told you everything.”

  Corrigan pulled up to his full 6’0” height. “Don’t sweat it. This visit is for Miss DeNardo, but as long as you’re here, where were you last night after 11:00?”

  Michael flinched. “This is unbelievable. Are you accusing me of something else?”

  Corrigan’s voice turned steely. “Answer the question.”

  “Home. In bed. Alone.” His color rose and he exhaled loudly.

  As if it couldn’t get worse, my father, with no advanced warning, chose that time to stick his head in.

  “Dad?” I sounded like somebody was squeezing my throat.

  His eyes moved from Michael to Corrigan and finally rested on me. “Bad time, Pumpkin?”

  Corrigan, in a sweeping motion, answered for me. “Not at all, Mr. DeNardo. Come right in.”

  I shot the detective a look that cursed him and all his male heirs. “Yeah, it’s fine, Dad. What’s up?”

  My father smiled crookedly. “I wanted to surprise you. Take you to lunch.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s a little early but I figured, what the heck. You’re busy, though.” He turned to leave, stopped and swung around. He squinted at Corrigan. “Do I know you?”

  I held my breath and hoped Corrigan wouldn’t divulge that my father had been under surveillance, courtesy of the Cleveland Police. He didn’t blink. “Just figured you were Claire’s father. The resemblance is amazing.”

  My fair skin and dark brown with reddish highlights hair are very different from my dad’s olive complexion and black hair now mixed with grey. His Roman nose compared to my upturned one. In short, we look nothing alike. I didn’t think for a second my dad bought Corrigan’s explanation, but he’d no doubt been taught to be polite to policemen. “Yeah, I guess so.” He paused, then squinted at me, “Do you need a hand with anything, honey?”

  A quick scan of everyone’s face didn’t remove my unease. Michael looked down, but not before I spotted his scowl. Corrigan wore an expression like a choirboy with a slingshot in his back pocket. And my dad looked eager to help me, even if he wasn’t sure how.

  There was a way, though. Break up the trio of Corrigan, Michael and me by leaving with my dad. Afterwards, I’d regroup with Michael to talk with him alone, and check in with Corrigan later about protection. “Dad, if you’ll give me just a few minutes, it’d be great to have lunch with you.” My grin could compete with any smile a clown chose to paint on. I was proud of my plan until Corrigan pasted his own on top of mine.

  The wily detective rubbed his chin. “Hey, why don’t we all go to lunch?” Before anyone could protest he added, “I’ll even drive.”

  No one said a word, but that didn’t deter his faux-enthusiasm. “This’ll be great. Adler, you can ride in the front with me. Claire and Mr. DeNardo, in the backseat.” When no one moved, Corrigan took my arm as if he were my prom escort.

  I pulled away and Michael finally found his voice. He stuck his hand out to my dad. “Sir, I’m Michael Adler. It’s a pleasure to meet you, but I have to excuse myself from this outing.” He threw a look toward Corrigan as if he hoped the man would be mowed down by a runaway elephant.

  My father stood there, dumbfounded at all of this, but he shook Michael’s hand anyway. “Good to meet you too, Mr. Adler.” Dad looked at me like he did when I came home past curfew. I had some explaining to do.

  Corrigan grinned widely and in a master-of-ceremonies voice said, “Too bad, Adler. I’m sure we could’ve had a great conversation over lunch.” He jangled his car keys. “Well, Mr. DeNardo, Claire, let’s get going before the crowds get there. Adler, why don’t you lead the way out?”

  Michael’s nostrils flared and he gave me a why-don’t-you-do-something look. Almost outside my office, he leaned toward me and whispered, “I’ll call you later.”

  Once again Corrigan took my arm and led me through the door with my father following. His act was beyond belief.

  Dad sat in the front seat with Corrigan at my insistence. This way, I could seethe in the back. Once we’d eaten and my father left, the brash detective would get a piece of my mind. Not that there were many pieces left, but wasn’t this a form of police harassment?

  We ended up at The Citrus Tree, a cute bistro that managed to garner awards every year. It was a shame I wouldn’t enjoy the food, being too occupied, waiting for my opportunity to stab Corrigan with my fork. With my knife if he said anything to make my dad suspicious. Like Dad wouldn’t already be.

  When Corrigan made some menu recommendations, my eyebrows rose. He didn’t seem like the bistro type. More like hole-in-the-wall Chinese takeout.

  “Do you come here often?” Those words made me grimace. Put together, they sounded like a trite pickup line.

  Corrigan closed his menu and gave me a lazy smile. “Enough to know what’s good.”

  My father sat bullet straight, obviously ill at ease. “Claire, honey, maybe this was a mistake coming here. I can’t pick anything. The cavatelli with meat sauce sounds good, but no one could make it like your mother. That woman spoiled me, you know.” He looked down at the table, but it was plain to see her memory cracked through my dad’s veneer.

  I grabbed his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. “She was a great cook.”

  “And a beautiful woman.” He smiled and squeezed my hand back.

  Hard to believe, but Corrigan had this sentimental expression on his face like he’d soon be dewy-eyed and mushy. I didn’t take him for a softie, but maybe he was human beneath that gorgeous exterior and cop steel.

  Corrigan’s voice was quiet and full of compassion. “I’m sorry for your loss. How long has your wife been gone?”

  My father absently twisted his wedding band. “Too long.”

  I leaned in. “A little over three years.”

  “My father passed on about six years ago. My mother still misses him.”

  Dad nodded. “Sometimes it’s hard to go on when one of your biggest reasons is gone.” He added quickly, “Course, I have my Claire.” He smiled warmly at me. “Don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  I grinned. “And Aunt Lena.”

  He looked to the ceiling. “Yeah, she’d kill me if I died before her.”

  We all laughed and the tension between my shoulders dissipated. At least until my phone vibrated. Twice. Both calls were from Michael.

  By the time we returned to the office it was as if my dad and Corrigan had known each other forever. Corrigan was never more charming, at least not around me. It seemed genuine. The two men clicked, even so far as telling each other Italian and Irish jokes.

  But after my father left, first kissing me and thanking Corrigan over and over for a great time, my shoulders rose again. I could feel the throb of yet another impending headache.

  “Your father’s a great guy. It was a real pleasure to meet him.”

  “Yes, he is. Thank you for not sayin
g anything about the case. But why in the world take us—”

  “I became your bodyguard the minute I stepped into your office. Until we catch the killer, you won’t be alone with anyone.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Not just Michael?”

  “Anyone.” He half-smiled. “Except maybe your father.”

  “How can you watch me twenty-four hours a day?” I smirked. “Or don’t you need sleep?”

  “Don’t worry about me. All the arrangements have been made.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets. “It’ll be me, Officer Dobrowski, or Officer Washington. Both good cops.”

  “Guess that will work for me. But I have someone to meet later…”

  “Adler. Go ahead.” He closed the space between us, cupped my chin with his hand, and in a husky whisper said, “Remember, I won’t be far away.”

  My heart slapped a high-five with my lungs, and I was breathless and dizzy at the same time. Why did he come into my life just when I might be murdered? “I won’t forget.”

  He stepped back and gave a curt nod. “Good. Now where to?”

  “To see Ed. He’s first.” But the vibration of my phone told me otherwise. Michael, again. I rubbed my face and, this time, took his call.

  “Claire, it’s Michael. We need to finish our talk.”

  With the detective close by, I didn’t want to reveal the caller or anything about this conversation. “We will. Promise.”

  “Good. Can we make it tonight?”

  Corrigan was busy checking his messages. “Of course.”

  “Corrigan’s listening, isn’t he?”

  My eyes shifted to Corrigan. “Good guess.”

  “Let’s meet at my house. 6:00 tonight. I can make dinner.”

  Although my taste buds pleaded with me for another Michael-made meal, I preferred someplace more public. “How about the Shellfish Shanty? On West 130th?”

  Corrigan’s ears perked up like a hound dog hunting squirrel.

  “Why not here? I’ll make scallops with linguini. Strawberries Romanoff for dessert.”

  When a shiver rolled down my spine, I was unsure as to whether it was an anticipated food orgasm or because he sounded like a spider inviting a fly to dinner. The latter seemed ridiculous and so I dismissed it from my mind. Still, with my tone as sweet as frosting on a cinnamon bun, I turned his offer down. “Sounds wonderful, but the Shanty has been on my list of restaurants to go to for a long time.”

  Suspicion gave an edge to his voice. “Claire, is something bothering you? Has Corrigan been hitting on you? Be careful with him. He’s more interested in you than in solving Constance’s murder.” He sounded like I’d crushed his heart.

  I cradled my chin. Don’t trust Michael. Don’t trust Corrigan. It seemed the only person trustworthy was my father. Okay, and Aunt Lena.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” A wave of sympathy for him hit me, and I would have agreed to meet him at his house, but that idea of the spider kept weaving itself into my thoughts. “We can finish our talk at the Shellfish Shanty. At six, it’s so dead.” I crinkled my face at that last comment.

  Michael sighed. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  I smiled, relieved. Corrigan hadn’t created a disturbance between Michael and me despite his best efforts.

  Corrigan watched me pull my car keys from my pocket. “Put your keys away. I’m driving you.”

  “I’m not supposed to drive myself?”

  He ignored my sarcasm. “No sense in taking two cars. I wanted to check in on Ed myself.” When I didn’t put my keys away, he added, “I’ll bring you back here afterwards.”

  My keys went back into my pocket, and we returned to his car. He pulled out of the lot, stared straight ahead, and murmured, “After the hospital, we’ll swing by the station. See if the audio people have anything.” He turned casually to me and added, “Then I’ll drop you off. You can go home and freshen up. Just remember, I’ll be around in case he gets too fresh.”

  I looked up and sighed. “It’s not a date.”

  He chuckled, like he was really enjoying this. “Of course not. But your safety is my concern.”

  I gritted my teeth. “You sound like a safety technician.”

  He let loose with a hardy laugh. “You’re right about that. But seriously, I don’t want anything bad happening to you.” His voice softened. “I’d never forgive myself.”

  My insides turned all marshmallowy. It felt good to have someone watch over me, since this case scared me beyond words.

  I touched his forearm. “I’ll try not to make your job harder than it is.”

  His lopsided grin appeared. “Does that mean you’ll cancel with Adler?”

  I pulled my hand back. “No, it doesn’t.”

  Less than five minutes later, we arrived at the hospital. Corrigan spoke with the uniformed cop who still guarded Ed, and then with Ed’s nurse. There’d been no change. Corrigan accompanied me into Ed’s room.

  “Would you mind me being alone with him for a little bit? I promise not to go anywhere without you.”

  Corrigan nodded. “If you need me, tell the guard. I’m going to talk with Ed’s doc and then come back.”

  Left alone with Ed, it seemed natural to pull a chair close to his bed, and wrap his hand in mine. I sat motionless, trying to send him…I don’t know…some good energy. The noise of all the equipment faded into the background. Hoping he’d miraculously grab onto mine, I removed my hand. Nothing happened. My eyes moistened and guilt shrouded me.

  The guard stuck his head inside the door. “Miss, since you’re here, mind if I take a, you know, break? It’s right down the hall.”

  “No problem. Do what you need to do.” He thanked me and his footsteps faded down the corridor.

  I watched Ed’s breathing. In and out, until my breaths matched his. If only it was within my power to wake him up. But no amount of staring helped.

  I checked the time. Eight minutes since the guard had left.

  After fifteen minutes, I poked my head out the door and scanned the hallway. No guard and no Corrigan. A ball of tension formed in my stomach. Swallowing hard was the only way to keep it from migrating to my throat. I sat down and popped right back up. Something was wrong.

  My call went straight to Corrigan’s voicemail. I decided to get someone to go into the men’s room, took two steps outside, and glanced up and down the hall.

  Four males dressed in street clothes and some hospital staff along with carts and poles filled the corridor. One man in particular caught my attention. He was headed down the hall, away from me. From the back, he looked like Michael. But what would Michael be doing here?

  Although I wanted to run after this could-be Michael, Ed couldn’t be left unguarded. The next best thing would have to do. “Michael!”

  A twenty-something guy with dark hair turned around and came toward me to see who had called the name out and why. But the man who resembled Michael never hesitated. Instead, he kept walking and disappeared around a corner.

  After apologizing to the young man who I had stopped by mistake, I texted Corrigan.

  This time he called me. “Problem?”

  “Ed’s guard has been gone for almost twenty minutes.”

  Corrigan didn’t scoff at me for worrying over nothing. “Be right there. Don’t move.” He showed up so fast he must have used a gurney and skateboarded in. “First, Ed’s okay?”

  “Yes. The guard said he needed the restroom. Please go look for him.”

  “Be right back.” He dashed off.

  My concern for Ed battled against my curiosity. The next person in a hospital uniform who walked by got yanked into Ed’s room. I dug out my identification and flew it past her. “Police business. Stay with this patient until notified otherwise.”

  She scowled but gave me a curt nod.

  I ran to the men’s room, but stopped outside the door and put my ear against it. I probably looked like a pervert who hoped to sn
eak a peek at some willies.

  From inside, Corrigan called the guard’s name while someone, probably the guard, moaned.

  Something had to be done. I pushed the door open and rushed in. Blood dripped from the back of the guard’s head as he lay cradled in Corrigan’s arms. When Corrigan saw me, he yelled, “Get a doctor. Now.”

  I galloped through the hallway like Paul Revere. “Doctor! I need a doctor!”

  A heavyset nurse marched over to me. “What’s the problem?”

  “A man’s bleeding.” I pointed toward the restroom. “Hurry.”

  We speed-walked into the men’s room and knelt down. After a quick inspection of the guard, the nurse declared, “He’ll need sutures.” She heaved herself up. “Let’s get him into a wheelchair and then down to Emergency.”

  After the nurse left to find that wheelchair, the guard tried to stand, but Corrigan gently held him down.“Easy, Walters. We’ll get you up when the nurse comes back. Now, what happened?”

  Walters’s eyes rolled upwards and for a second it looked like he’d pass out again. His eyelids fluttered open and he focused his eyes. “Not sure. I was taking a whiz, pardon, using the john, when someone came behind me. Cold cocked me.”

  “Did you see anything?” Corrigan asked.

  “Nah. Not a good idea to check out other guys when you’re in here.”

  The nurse returned with an aide pushing a wheelchair. “Mark will take you to the ER.” Corrigan and Mark loaded the injured cop into the chair.

  Corrigan patted the guard’s shoulder. “I’ll check on you in a minute.”

  We followed them out and Corrigan hurried me back to Ed’s room. The woman I’d drafted to watch Ed stood next to the door, arms crossed, tapping her foot. In return for my thanks, she merely harrumphed.

  “Pleasant woman,” Corrigan remarked. He made a call and when it was over, explained, “Someone to replace Walters will be here in thirty minutes. We stay put until then.”

  The wait seemed longer than half an hour. Corrigan, hands twisted behind his back, paced rapidly as we waited. Either the floor or his shoes would soon wear out.

  I returned to the chair beside Ed, mesmerized by the pattern on his heart monitor. Sort of made a game of it, promising myself the next time it spiked up, I’d tell Corrigan that Michael might be here. True to my promise, I began, “While I was waiting for Ed’s guard, I might have—”