“But before I start, I want you to know I had nothing to do with Victoria’s murder, though there were times I wanted to strangle her.” Warren gulped, his face turning red and his eyes bulging. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”
“How are we to know you didn’t kill her? My grandson is accused of the murder, when all along it could have been you.”
“I couldn’t have. The evening she was murdered, I conducted rehearsals of a scene with Cora and some other actors. You know, Laura, the scene where Mortimer realizes his aunts have been poisoning lonely old men. Cora can tell you I was there. Most of the cast had the night off.”
There went my theory about Warren and about Cora. He couldn’t have murdered Victoria either, unless he was lying. Warren must have been the one who gave Cora the alibi Spangler talked about.
“Okay, go on.” I tried my best to control my tone and make my words sound like a friendly prompt. If he relaxed a bit, he might be more willing to confess the truth.
“I came to get the list you said you found in the yearbook.” He leaned over and picked up a piece of paper from the floor and held it between thumb and forefinger, a guilty look on his face.
“The list of loans you made to her? But why would you need that? She can’t repay you now.”
“It wasn’t a list of loans.” He looked sheepish and let out a slow but steady breath. “They were payments I made to keep her quiet.”
My forehead creased in surprise. Maybe slapping the poker against my hand had worked if he was so willing to spill his guts. I shook my head, trying to think sensibly and less like a noir film character.
“She was blackmailing you?” Mrs. Webster stared at him, looking as perplexed as I felt. “Why?”
“I had a young man working for me awhile back, and Victoria somehow found out he had been taking jewelry and other valuables from people’s caskets before we took them out for burial. I fired him, but she threatened to expose the funeral home, and I couldn’t risk that.”
“But if it wasn’t you, why didn’t you let her expose who it was?” I asked.
“Because no one in town would trust us after hearing about the thefts. It didn’t matter who did it. My grandfather and father built up the business, and I didn’t want to be the one running the place when it failed.”
“How did Victoria discover the thefts?” Mrs. Webster eyed him suspiciously. “After a casket is closed, the family members wouldn’t know. The person in the casket couldn’t have reported the crimes.”
“What can I say? He was stupid. He bragged about it to his buddies, and Victoria got wind of it. She wasn’t above upping her income by putting pressure on me.”
“But, Warren, there wasn’t anything on the list but dollar amounts and dates. Why did you think it was important to get it?” I couldn’t hide the skepticism in my voice.
“I didn’t know what else she had here related to it. If I could find the list, I might discover other things she had. Please believe me. I’m sorry I frightened you ladies. My only goal was to get the paper and get out.”
I recalled his offers of help. “No wonder you were so anxious to come out here to help me. You wanted to search for the papers.”
“I’m sorry. I needed to protect the family business.”
“Can’t trust any man,” Mrs. Webster said bitterly.
“What do you think, Mrs. Webster? Should we let him go? He has an alibi we can easily check.”
“Let him go.” Mrs. Webster’s disappointment we hadn’t caught Victoria’s killer was evident, and she glared at Warren. “But we’ll be checking your story.”
I replaced the poker. “Okay, Warren, you’re off the hook for now. Please don’t do anything so stupid again.”
“Believe me, Laura, you have my promise on that.” Seconds later, he was gone. It was only then I wondered whether Mrs. Jankowitz had seen Warren walking outside the Denton house. Could I have been too hasty in my decision to strike Warren off my list of suspects?
Chapter 29
Buyers will look into all corners of your house. Make sure your closets and cabinets are clean and orderly. Don’t leave out hampers overflowing with dirty laundry.
I dropped Mrs. Webster at her place and then drove home. It had been a long day. Still feeling unnerved from our run-in with Warren, I opted to park in the driveway rather than in my garage. The shadows cast by low-hanging tree branches across the path from my detached garage to the house were more than I wanted to deal with tonight.
I prepared for bed and lay there thinking about that evening. I couldn’t get over Warren’s actions and debated whether I should report them to Detective Spangler. After what seemed like hours, I eventually dozed off.
When the phone rang, it was as though the sound came from a great distance away. It took me a while to wake up enough to answer it, and even then, I dropped the phone twice before I could speak. I don’t know who was more disturbed at being awoken in the middle of the night, Inky or me.
“Hello.” I pushed aside the covers and struggled to wake up.
“Don’t end up like Will Parker,” a muffled voice said.
With that, I was fully awake and jumped out of bed.
“What did you say?” I still wasn’t sure I’d heard the caller correctly. There was no response. I switched off my phone and then plopped down on my bed before my trembling knees gave out. I hadn’t recognized the voice and couldn’t even tell whether the caller had been a man or woman. One thing I did know for certain, the message mirrored the note on the door. Now I had no doubt the note had been intended for me.
Whom had I talked to or what questions had I asked that had triggered this threat?
The clock showed it was after midnight. Pulling on my robe, I raced to each door and window to ensure they were locked. Inky meowed and followed behind me. I’d locked up before crawling in bed, but now I needed to assure myself no one could get in. It was at times like this I wondered whether I should get a dog as well—a really big dog.
When I was calmer, I dialed the number that had come up on my caller ID. It rang and rang. Finally, a gruff voice answered. “Harry’s.”
Harry’s? “Can you tell me who this number belongs to?”
“Man, I don’t know. Probably Harry. He’s the owner. This is a pay phone outside Harry’s.”
“Owner?”
“The owner of Harry’s Bar and Grill. Look, are you trying to reach someone in the bar? If not, I need to make a call.”
Muffled voices and music came from the background.
“Did you see anyone just make a call from this phone? Please, it’s important.”
“I didn’t, but the phone’s outside. I’m the only one out here now. You trying to reach your old man?”
“Uh, no. Thank you,” I hung up. If the phone was outside, anyone could have used it. And that meant the call couldn’t be traced back to the caller.
I debated whether to call Detective Spangler. He would say the call had been a prank, and, with my being half asleep, I’d only imagined what the caller said. I’d consider calling him in the morning. When I went back to bed, I eventually fell into a troubled sleep, dreaming about a car chasing me as I ran through town.
The next morning, I awoke with a start, suddenly remembering the telephone call I had received the night before. The memory of it sent shock waves through my body, and I felt disoriented. For a moment, I couldn’t remember what day it was. Should I be getting ready for work or dressed for church? After checking the date on my phone, I realized it was a workday, and I needed to get to the Denton house. The sound of Inky’s purring next to me on the bed helped to calm me.
After taking a quick shower, which didn’t do much to make me feel more alert, I rummaged through my crowded closet, searching for an outfit to wear. Long days spent at the Denton house hadn’t left me with much time to do laundry, and finding
clean clothes was becoming a challenge. I pushed aside heavy winter clothes until I located a pair of jeans I hadn’t been able to fit into for a while. I was pleasantly surprised when the zipper pulled up easily. Long days of hard work and missed meals had provided one benefit.
Once I was ready, I went into the kitchen, opened a can of cat food for Inky, and fixed myself a cup of tea and a bowl of Cheerios. They wouldn’t stay with me for long, but I couldn’t face eating more than that. The idea of stopping at Vocaro’s for strong coffee sounded appealing, but I needed to arrive at the Denton house early to let Angelo and his crew in so they could finish painting the bathrooms.
Grabbing my canvas tote bag, I walked across my front porch to the driveway, wishing I could put my car on autopilot for my trip to the Denton house. I was no longer comfortable driving anywhere and had gotten into the habit of continually checking my rearview mirror to see if anyone was following me. I’d always viewed Louiston as a safe place, but not so much now.
As I approached the car, something about it seemed off. It looked strangely short. Then it struck me. All four tires were flat. Walking around the car, I saw gash marks in each tire. Who could have done this?
I regretted not putting the car in the garage the previous night. I would have to call Detective Spangler now. If nothing else, I would need to report the vandalism to the police to substantiate an insurance claim. I hoped my insurance would cover the cost of new tires. I let myself back into the house to call Detective Spangler. Sighing, I discovered my cell phone needed to be recharged again and went over to my home phone.
When he arrived, I showed him the car and described the phone call I’d received the previous night.
“Obviously, you’ve riled someone.” He walked around my car, inspecting the damage.
“Obviously.” I was growing tired of his offhand manner. My first instinct had been to respond “Duh,” but that would have sounded juvenile.
“And you didn’t hear anything outside?”
“Don’t you think if I’d heard noise outside or seen a person slashing my tires, I would have done something, maybe even have called the police?” Seeing his surprised expression at my sarcasm, I added, “Sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night after the threatening call, and now this.”
“Are you sure what you heard was a threat?”
“Detective Spangler, at this point, I’m not sure of anything. Right now, all I want to do is report the vandalism to my car for insurance purposes and get moving.” I realized then I couldn’t move anywhere without my car.
“Car vandalism happens all the time. I can’t say this isn’t connected to the string of things happening around you, but neither can I prove it. Regardless, I would advise you to be careful. I’ll send someone over to Harry’s to find out if anyone saw somebody make a call from the phone there last night.
“I’ve already called there, but the man who answered hadn’t seen anyone.
“These places have regulars, and the regulars there might have noticed a stranger. If the caller wasn’t a stranger, that might be harder. I’ll also have a patrol car drive by here periodically.
“What are you doing to protect Will? You are doing something, aren’t you?”
“We’ve taken steps, and that’s all I’m going to say. Now, stop questioning people. I don’t want to add your name to a list of victims.”
For a second, Detective Spangler appeared a little friendlier. What would it take to get a smile or a glimmer of personality from him? When he wasn’t frowning at me, he appeared human and even attractive. Where had that thought come from?
After phoning my insurance company, I called Angelo and asked him for a ride to the Denton house. If necessary, I would sit on the tarps or paint cans in the back of his panel truck, but I needed to get there today. I could ill afford any more delays.
During the planning stages for the Denton house project, Tyrone and I had selected a palette of colors for the four bathrooms in the house—colors appropriate for a historic home. Angelo would be painting those today. I’d also purchased a new set of crisp white towels and shower curtains for each of the bathrooms to create a hotel spa feel. A few well-placed accessories would add the finishing touches. The tile and fixtures were in good condition and wouldn’t need to be repaired or replaced. That would have taken a big bite out of my budget.
I was pleased with how the house was shaping up and believed I would be ready for the real estate agents walk-through prior to the open house. The agents would be judging my efforts, and they could be harsh critics. It was important I make a good impression since they would be my primary source for future staging work.
Waiting for Angelo and his painters, I contemplated everything that had happened over the last few days. I was getting close to whoever had killed Victoria, and that person was trying to scare me. Whoever it was had been successful.
This was far more than I’d signed on for when I promised to help Mrs. Webster. My home had been my haven from all the stress following Victoria’s murder, Tyrone’s arrest, and everything related to both events. Now, whoever was attempting to frighten me knew where I lived and had followed me home. It was no longer the safe haven it had been.
Chapter 30
Stage outside areas by adding furniture and accessories to patios and decks to show additional living spaces.
Basking in the warm spring sunshine, I stood on the Denton patio and admired my handiwork. The last few days of work had been busy, but the house was shaping up beautifully. With the landscaping Carlos had completed and the new wicker furniture and market umbrella I’d added, the resulting outdoor living area looked good enough for House Beautiful. Taking one last look, I made a mental note to ask Nita over to take more photos.
“Hello, anyone here?” a voice called, startling me.
Adrenaline coursed to my toes and back again. I hadn’t realized how on edge I’d become and jumped at the sound of the voice. I was relieved to see Doug Hamilton emerge from the house through the patio doors.
“I knocked on the front door, but when no one answered, I let myself in. Sorry if I startled you.”
I was alarmed I’d left the front door unlocked and was determined not to do it again. After Warren’s late evening visit, I didn’t want any more surprises. Then I realized Victoria must have given Doug a key. Representing Hamilton Real Estate, he would have needed one. Thinking about a key to the house, I remembered Detective Spangler’s question about who had a key. I planned to call and tell him Doug had one, but he might already know that. A lockbox hadn’t been placed on the door yet for real estate agents to use, so I could discount anyone getting into the house using a key from a lockbox.
Doug looked around and whistled. “Wow, this is terrific. What a difference all this makes.”
I pressed my lips together to prevent looking smug at his reaction. “Do you think it’s up to Monica Heller’s standards?”
“Ouch. I guess you heard me advise Victoria to contact Monica?” His embarrassed expression gave him an almost boyish look.
I nodded, savoring this moment.
“Sorry, but you were an unknown entity, and someone had recommended Monica. With so much riding on this sale, I thought she might be the better bet.” Doug looked around again, as though trying to take it all in. “I see I was mistaken. My apologies.”
“Well, at least you’re honest. Want to see what I’ve done so far?”
Doug nodded and followed me into the house.
As we walked from room to room, I pointed out the fresh paint colors, especially the white wood wainscoting and trim on the ground floor, the bright and cozy kitchen, decorated in shades of yellow and cobalt blue, and the tranquil bedrooms that would be a quiet sanctuary for anyone fortunate enough to occupy one of them.
“I’m impressed,” Doug admitted as we completed our tour. “It’s amazing how you blended everything and made i
t all look so comfortable.” He shook his head. “I can hardly believe this is the same place.”
I beamed with pleasure. “Tyrone helped a lot earlier, and I have to give Skip some credit. He increased the staging budget and gave me a free hand, which I didn’t have with Victoria. He hasn’t lived in the house for years and isn’t as emotionally attached to it as Victoria was. I doubt Victoria ever saw a knickknack she didn’t like. Removing them and a lot of excess furniture helped create a sense of spaciousness.”
“Skip is definitely going to get more money for the house now, thanks to you and Tyrone. I’ll have to see if he’s interested in listing it with furnishings. It would take a lot of furniture to fill this house, and someone might be interested in taking the whole package.”
“I still have more to do, but I’m close to being finished. It was a relief when you delayed the open house.”
“It made sense. We don’t need the people who would come through only to gawk at the scene of a murder.”
Doug’s mention of the murder made me think about Tyrone sitting in jail unable to do anything to help his situation. Trying to balance my desire to help him with my need to meet the deadline for the open house had raised my stress levels considerably.
When we arrived back on the ground floor, Doug paused as if in thought. “Listen, I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot—my fault. How would you like to have dinner tonight at my place?”
I looked at him in surprise and stepped back a bit wary. “I’ll be cooking for my dad,” Doug added quickly. “If you could join us, I know he’d enjoy the company. He doesn’t get out much these days. It would also give us a chance to start over.”
Spending time with Doug and his father would give me the opportunity to question them. It didn’t seem honorable using dinner with his father as a means of conducting a murder investigation, but the urgency to free Tyrone called for ruthless measures.
“I’d enjoy that. I had problems with my car today, so Nita’s husband, Guido, is going to pick me up. Once I get home—”
Staging is Murder Page 16
