Add a Pinch of Murder

by Joanne Pence

  “Angie?” Madrigal said as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  “We’re here to see the house,” Angie said. “We heard it’s for sale.”

  “How did you get in here?” Madrigal demanded. “Where’s my agent?”

  Cat quickly explained about her conversation with the realtor and suggested Madrigal change the agent’s instructions if she wished.

  “I’m sorry,” Madrigal said to Cat and Angie. “I guess you aren’t to blame. Please feel free to look around.”

  “It’s okay,” Angie said. “I’m surprised you’re out and about after what happened the night before last.”

  Madrigal paused before answering. “I can’t sit alone in my condo. Too many memories. I had to get away.”

  “Of course,” Angie murmured.

  “Well,” Cat said, sidling toward the door. “I think we’ve seen all we need to. We should get going. Come on, Angie?”

  Instead of leaving, Angie turned toward the sad-eyed woman standing alone in the big, ugly bedroom. Sympathy filled her. “Would you like to have a cup of coffee or tea somewhere? Maybe just to talk?”

  Madrigal actually appeared surprised by the suggestion. “I don’t know of any place to go.”

  “I’m sure there’s a coffee shop nearby,” Angie said.

  “There’s a Starbucks on Union and Laguna,” Cat interjected.

  “How would that be?” Angie asked. “I’ll drive.”

  Madrigal offered a small smile. “Okay.”

  Cat rushed off with hardly a good-bye after making sure the house was locked up, her hopes of a large commission having vanished.

  o0o

  Paavo and Yosh left the office of the SoMa Arts center. They had talked to the museum curator who had worked with Kevin Bliss on the gala, but he was as stunned and perplexed as all of Blithe’s friends and compatriots over his sudden death.

  The detectives stood outside the museum. The day was surprisingly warm and sunny, and they weren’t ready to get into the car to drive off for on another fruitless interview.

  “I think we’re going down the wrong path,” Paavo said. “I don’t think what happened to Blithe has anything to do with the gala or the donors to the museum.”

  “I think you’re right,” Yosh said. “I felt that yesterday, and today only confirmed it. We need to look at the family. His wife was too distraught to talk to us yesterday, and today she’s supposedly out with her attorney picking out caskets and pricing headstones? I don’t believe it.”

  “Agreed,” Paavo said. “And it’s clearly no coincidence that both Oliver Cambry and Kevin Blithe died of cyanide poisoning.”

  Yosh nodded. “Where do we start?”

  “With the cyanide. It’s not the easiest thing to get one’s hands on. Let’s try that route while doing what we can to track down Madrigal Cambry Blithe, our missing widow.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Angie would have thought Madrigal Cambry Blithe would rather buy a Starbucks Coffee Shop than sit in one. Madrigal ordered a cup of soymilk laced decaf, which Angie considered an abomination to all true coffee lovers. Angie’s preferred cup was a cappuccino.

  “I can’t imagine what you must be going through,” Angie said as they sat with their coffees. “Losing a father earlier in the year, and now your husband.”

  “Especially since both were murdered.” Madrigal’s voice was little more than a whisper, her eyes darting and desperate. “I don’t know what my family did to deserve this, but I plan to find out.”

  Angie was speechless. She had thought the same thing, but she didn’t think she should say it.

  “I can’t help but wonder,” Madrigal said, her hands primly folded on her lap, “if I’m next. That question keeps going through my head.”

  “But I thought the man who poisoned your father is dead,” Angie said.

  Madrigal snorted. “I talked myself into believing that thief was the guilty one, but now I know better.”

  Angie drew in her breath. “Do you have any idea why someone might target you and your family?”

  Madrigal’s mouth tightened. “None.”

  “Have you asked the police for protection?” Angie asked.

  “Fat lot of good that’ll do.” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips, then dropped her hands back to her lap. “I have to take care of myself. And I can.”

  “What about leaving the city temporarily?”

  “Run, in other words?”

  “Well…”

  Madrigal pursed her lips. “Would you run?”

  In fact, Angie had tried that once and ended up in more danger than if she’d stayed home. “Do you think it might help?”

  “No. Nothing would.” Madrigal drew in her breath. “In any case, before I do anything else, I need to decide about selling the house. I’m not sure I want to.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Frankly, I never wanted to sell it. But Kevin did. He always thought it was an ugly white elephant and should be gotten rid of before the real estate market took a downturn. But now …”

  Now, Angie thought, it no longer mattered what Kevin wanted. “It sounds as if you’ve already made up your mind.”

  “The thing that stops me is the thought of living in that big house alone.” Madrigal took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I’m ready to do that, especially since someone might be out there who is systematically killing my family.”

  “Would Vera stay there with you?” Angie asked. Normally, she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to live with her mother-in-law, but there didn’t seem to be anything “normal” about Madrigal or her family.

  Madrigal shook her head. “Vera’s given her life to this family and now her son’s life as well. It’s time she learns to live for herself for once. Besides, she might also be a target. Anyway, even if she were with me, how much help could an old woman like her be against a killer?”

  “On the other hand, you might be all she has left,” Angie said.

  Madrigal’s eyes hardened. “If that’s the case, I’m very sorry for her.”

  A chill went down Angie’s back. “One thing that bothers me is I heard no one knew about the robbery at the time of your father’s death. How could that be?”

  Madrigal’s shoulders stiffened and she raised her head high. “I can tell you, if no one figured out that Dad had been poisoned, I certainly wouldn’t have known the jewels had been stolen. My mother and stepmother had so many jewels I couldn’t keep track of them and never tried. It was only after we got word of foul play that I searched and discovered that my mother’s diamonds and emeralds were missing.”

  “Diamonds and emeralds, and your father didn’t keep them in a safe deposit box?”

  “No. He’d never been robbed. He didn’t worry about it. Anyway, I’m sure our family history is all very dull for you. Thank you for the coffee.”

  “Not at all,” Angie said. In fact, she was finding the Cambry clan bizarrely fascinating.

  “If I do keep the house, maybe I should try to find my own live-in help,” Madrigal mused.

  “Once they hear about the recent murders,” Angie said honestly, “it might not be that easy.”

  “You’re right. No one would take such a job. At least, no one I’d trust. I can see why my father hired bodyguards. Do you know any I might use?”

  “The only bodyguards I know are the two men who took care of your father. I used them once myself and liked them a lot. I was shocked to learn they failed your dad.”

  “He actually liked them as well,” Madrigal said. “And I don’t think it was their fault. Someone very clever is behind all this. Someone who is doing a good job scaring me, in fact. But if you liked those men, as did my father, I’ll give the company they work for a call, ask if they’re free.”

  “That’s good of you, but I’m afraid they were fired. Hallston and Sons said they couldn’t send out anyone with a blemish on their record, so…”

  “That should mean they’re definitely free,” Madri
gal said. “And I can hire them directly if I wish.”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Good. I will. But … would you be there with me? I’m sure it sounds strange, but I’ve never hired anyone by myself. In fact, I’ve never done anything much by myself. I was always taken care of by my father, and then by my husband. This is all very new to me.”

  “I’m sure it is. After a while, I expect you’ll begin to enjoy your independence.”

  A hint of a smile played on Madrigal’s lips. “I know I shouldn’t admit it, but I think I already do.”

  o0o

  Angie stopped in at Homicide on her way home. It was late in the day, but she had no idea if Paavo was at a crucial point in the investigation, or if he’d be joining her for dinner. She decided to drop in and see for herself. She hated that this murder case seemed to be a difficult and engrossing one. After all, they had a wedding to plan, and just as she had things to do and decisions to make, he did as well. He hadn’t even selected his best man yet, a state that was driving her crazy—especially since she knew better than to press him about it.

  She tried not to be a pest at his place of work, but there were some things that couldn’t wait—especially since he was investigating the murder of her coffee companion’s husband, and she had learned some hopefully useful information for him.

  “Look who’s here,” Yosh’s booming voice rang out. “Hey, Angie!”

  “Hey, Yosh.” She smiled at him. Yosh was always loud and jolly, a couple of characteristics Angie believed were good for Paavo to have near. Her fiancé had a tendency to hold too much inside and take a somewhat dour view of life. But she had learned that was rather Finnish of him, just like his name.

  Paavo looked up with surprise, then his eyes brightened as he stood and gave Angie a quick kiss. “This is a pleasant surprise. But what brings you here?”

  She sat at the chair by his desk, all but bursting with news. “I have to tell you about Madrigal. I had coffee with her.”

  Paavo put down his pen. “You what?” She was surprised to see him scowling at her.

  “Earlier today, I went to see the Cambry mansion with Cat.” Angie hurried to explain. “It’s for sale now, sixteen-point-nine million, by the way, in case you have some petty cash laying around and would like to buy your own haunted house because that’s exactly what it looks like.”

  “I thought you worried that we already had.”

  Angie didn’t want to think about any possible spirits hanging around her new house—canine or otherwise. “Funny man. Anyway, Cat and I were inside the house, thinking we were alone when we heard some footsteps. Slow, heavy steps. We didn’t know what to do, but luckily, it was only Madrigal. She had no idea realtors have ways of getting into houses to show them to prospective customers. Anyway, we got to talking, and I suggested we have coffee—”

  “Angie, you do realize, don’t you, that she’s a suspect?”

  “Of course, I know that. How many times have you said you have to look at the spouse first? All the more reason for me to get to know her, right? Actually, I had hoped you’d already ruled her out because I feel sorry for her. I mean, she’s really lost. Very much the poor little rich girl. In fact, once she’s over her grief, I might introduce her to Stan.”

  “Oh, yes,” Paavo said sarcastically. “I can really see those two together.” Paavo shook his head at the thought of her neighbor, Stanfield Bonnette.

  “Don’t be mean,” she said. “Anyway, she’s thinking she might not want to sell the house after all, but might even want to live there. But she’s afraid to be alone, so she wants bodyguards.”

  He shut his eyes at this. “Tell me you didn’t.”

  “Of course I did! They need jobs and we both know they’re innocent. Besides, Madrigal said her father liked them and she couldn’t believe they had anything to do with his death. In fact, she’s worried she might be the next victim. A legitimate worry, if you ask me.”

  “Yosh,” Paavo called over to his partner at the next desk. “Are you hearing this?”

  “It’s not that I’m eavesdropping,” Yosh said, hands behind his head as he spun toward them and tilted back in his chair. “But I heard everything. Madrigal got over being distraught pretty damn quick.”

  “What do you mean?” Angie asked.

  Paavo explained. “We showed up at Madrigal’s condo yesterday and the housekeeper told us she’d been given sedatives, and then today, she was supposed to be out with her lawyer making funeral arrangements.”

  Angie looked from Paavo to Yosh and back. “Was the housekeeper named Vera?”

  “Vera Carson,” Paavo said.

  “Do you know she’s Kevin’s mother.”

  Paavo looked stunned. “You aren’t joking?”

  “Of course not,” Angie said.

  “Nothing like getting some gossip first hand, eh, Paav?” Yosh said. “I wonder how long it would have taken us to find out all that, especially since”—he faced Angie—“Vera’s last name isn’t Blithe. Guess she remarried somewhere along the way.”

  “She certainly wasn’t forthcoming about her relationship with Kevin,” Paavo said. “But I wonder why? Why keep such a thing from us? She had to know we’d find out, one way or the other. I think it’s time to pay Vera and Madrigal, both, another visit.”

  Yosh stood and put on his jacket. “Not tonight. My son has a Little League game. And you may owe your fiancée a nice dinner after what she’s told us.”

  Angie smiled at Paavo. “I like the way that man thinks.”

  Paavo bowed to the inevitable with a wry grin.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Vera Carson opened the door to Madrigal’s condo the next morning and gave the two detectives a beady-eyed stare. “Mrs. Blithe has decided to remain in bed today. Yesterday’s activities left her exhausted.” She raised her chin. “She’ll call you when she’s ready to talk.”

  “She wasn’t so ill that she couldn’t go to her father’s house, and then to Starbucks,” Paavo said.

  Vera’s gray eyes narrowed. “Mrs. Blithe never goes to Starbucks.” She said the popular coffee chain’s name as if she were talking about a porn shop.

  “We also have questions for you,” Paavo said. “Such as, why didn’t you tell us that you’re Kevin Blithe’s mother?”

  She drew in her breath. “Step-mother to be precise. I assumed you already knew.”

  “Why would we?” Yosh asked. “Your name’s not Blithe.”

  “And you were referred to us as the housekeeper,” Paavo added.

  Vera openly bristled. “Housekeeper? I don’t think so. Try household manager, and at times, business manager. The Cambrys, I’m sorry to say, couldn’t manage their way to dinner without my help. I stayed here out of concern for Kevin.”

  “What do you mean?” Paavo asked.

  Vera rolled her eyes. “You two may as well come in.” She showed them to the living room. They all sat before Vera answered the question. “Madrigal never learned how to run a household. Once poor Oliver died, I was able to devote myself full time to helping Kevin. I’m glad I was able to help him, and only wish I could have done more. He wasn’t an easy child to raise, and I always thought I might have done more for him. He finally seemed to be in a good situation, and then this happened. It’s such a pity.”

  Paavo glanced at Yosh. His turn.

  “Mrs. Carson,” Yosh said gently. “What happened to Kevin is also our concern. We want to find out who killed your stepson. We’ve talked to many people who knew him, but we haven’t talked to the one person he was closest to.”

  Vera Carson stiffened.

  “We understand,” Yosh continued, “that you’re protective of your daughter-in-law during this awful time, and we know it must be equally if not more terrible for you, so we’ll do all we can to make this as quick and painless as possible for her. But we need a quick word with Madrigal.”

  “Well …” Vera seemed to have been thrown off-balance by Yosh’s reasonable appro
ach. She patted her graying brown hair as if to give herself a moment to think. “As I said, I’m not sure if she’s up to it.”

  “We’ll wait,” Yosh said, then looked at his partner. “Right, Inspector Smith?”

  “As long as it takes,” Paavo replied to Yosh, but his hard gaze was fixed on Vera.

  The muscles at the back of her jaw seemed to twitch a time or two as she regarded both men. “All right,” she said finally. “I’ll speak to her.”

  When she left the room, Paavo went to the window. It overlooked the street. Directly across from the condo were a number of Edwardian homes, the ones San Franciscans often called “painted ladies” for the elaborate mixture of colors used on them to emphasize the detail in the wooden facades. When he turned back to the living room, it seemed even more bland—the sort of room that could be found in an upscale rather stuffy hotel rather than a home.

  Yosh remained seated on one end of the sofa, and Paavo soon joined him on the other end. They waited another five plus minutes before Vera came into the room carrying a tray with coffee, cream, sugar, and shortbread cookies.

  “While we’re waiting,” Paavo said, “I have a few questions for you.”

  Vera stiffened, then sat on the edge of a chair. “All right.”

  “Do you know any reason Kevin Blithe might have been killed?” Paavo asked.

  “Of course not. Kevin was well liked by everyone. Very well liked.”

  Paavo dismissed the reply. It was the usual answer to the usual question but one that, nonetheless, needed to be asked. Every so often a surprising and useful reply was given. “What can you tell me about Mr. Blithe’s background?”

  “Kevin graduated from Boalt Hall, the law school at the University of California in Berkeley.”

  “But he never passed the California bar exam,” Yosh said.

  “He didn’t really want to practice law,” Vera said. “He was more of a people person.”

  “I see,” Paavo said. From what he had heard from the Blithe’s friends was that his only “job” these days was to set up receptions and other fund-raising events for Oliver Cambry’s various charities. Blithe paid himself a generous stipend for doing the work, which consisted of hiring others to do the heavy lifting while he made phone calls and “did lunch” with the upper echelon of potential donors.