I went into the missed-calls log on my phone, found the second unfamiliar number, and hit send. The phone rang five times. I thought that it was going to go to voicemail when Philip picked up.
“Philip Siebold.”
“Hi, Philip, its Ziva Diaz.”
He paused before speaking. I wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t recollect my name, or if he was surprised that I had returned his call so quickly. My guess was the later.
“Hi, Ziva. Thanks for getting back with me,” he said.
“Yeah, no problem. What’s up?”
“I’ve been trying to piece together what happened. It sounds like you’re the person I need to talk to. Any way you’d be willing to meet up?” Philip sounded all business. I respected that. He seemed just as eager to solve this case as I was. Then again, he could really be the murderer and just be trying to figure out how much I know. I’d have to tread lightly.
“I could do that. Do you know where Sweet Thangs is?” I asked.
“Is it still off North Bay Street?” Philip asked.
“It is.”
“Okay. I can meet you there. Say, in about an hour?”
“That works. I’ll see you soon then.” As I hung up, I only had one question on my mind: what does one wear to interview a murder suspect?
* * *
I tore through my closet, trying to come up with the perfect outfit. I thought about going with the red dress again. After all, red was a power color and I was planning on getting some answers. However, in the end, comfort won out. I went with a new pair of plum-colored leggings with a light-weight black sweater and tan suede ankle boots. The look was more cute than sexy and hopefully gave off an innocent, unintimidating vibe.
When I pulled up to Sweet Thangs, I noticed it was much quieter tonight. Only a handful of people were inside, and that included the workers. Philip’s silver BMW was parked out front, so I knew he was already there. A quick scan of the patrons told me he was most likely the handsome-looking man, wearing a light-yellow polo shirt, sitting at a back table. His head was down, reading something on his phone, but I was fairly certain it was him.
I walked toward the table, taking a moment to glance up along the way at the daily drink specials written in pink chalk on the blackboard. I don’t know why I bothered. I ordered the same drink every time, but maybe tonight I would get some dessert to go, seeing how I had a half bowl of melted chocolate chip ice cream sitting on the counter at home.
“Philip?” I asked when I reached the table.
“Ziva, thank you so much for meeting me. Sorry, work.” He motioned to his phone before standing to shake my hand. Up close, Philip’s resemblance to Roger was unmistakable. They had the same smile and slate-gray eyes.
“I meant to call you earlier, but it’s been nonstop since I got into town,” he said.
I pulled back the white H-shaped chair, and sat down. “I can imagine. I’ve been pretty busy myself.”
“That’s right. Mom said you own your own business?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m a consultant for Beauty Secrets, the skin care and makeup company.”
“I see how you two know each other then,” Philip said with a genuine smile. Contrary to what Mrs. J. thought, I was betting Marion’s love for lipstick started long before she got sick.
“You got it. Your mom’s one of my top clients.” It was selfish of me to think where my profit margin would be without Marion’s business, yet I was thinking about it. Looked like Eric was rubbing off on me more than I realized.
“But, I still don’t understand why you were in the house if she wasn’t home.” Philip seemed genuinely confused.
“That’s easy. I was making a delivery. Like most of my clients, your mom and I have a designated drop off spot in case I stop by while she’s out, which was the case on Saturday.”
The barista stopped by to take our drink orders. I, of course, went with the chai latte. Philip went with a cappuccino.
“How’s your mom doing by the way?” I asked when it was just us again. I thought it’d be interesting to get Philip’s take on Marion’s behavior.
“Surprisingly well. I don’t know if she’s in denial or what, but she seems to be doing well. I understand you’re partially to thank for that.”
“I’m not sure about that. I think Dr. Michelson and Eric have been a bigger help then I have.” I was hoping to lead the conversation toward Dr. Michelson, but Philip went off in an entirely different direction.
“Ah, good old Eric, my father’s little lap dog. How I hate that man.” The angered expression on his face told me he was sincere in his disdain. He stared down the napkin dispenser on the table, and I would’ve paid big money to know what he was thinking.
I waited for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, I said, “Hang on, you can’t just say something like that and not explain yourself.” Especially seeing that I was meeting up with the guy again on Saturday and contemplating a business venture with him. If he’s a dog, I’d like to find that out sooner rather than later.
“Okay, I take that back. Technically, it’s not Eric’s fault he’s the son my father always wanted, but the way he idolized the man drove me nuts. Like my father could do no wrong.”
Ah, now we were getting somewhere.
“And your father could do plenty wrong?” Playing the naive card seemed like the right way to go. I wondered what version of Roger, Philip would introduce me to.
Philip leaned back to read me for a minute. I’m not sure what he saw, but he quickly made up his mind. Looked like I had gone with the right outfit. Innocent for the win!
“What do you know about Delgado Enterprises?” Philip asked me.
“Who?” I wasn’t following the conversation. I thought for sure he was going to bring up Ann Marie or maybe another one of his father’s former mistresses. Philip could’ve easily asked me about astrophysics and gotten the same look. I mouthed the name and looked up at the ceiling tiles for the answer. I was coming up blank.
“They’re a shipping brokerage firm,” he supplied. The name still didn’t register. Leaning across the table, he added, “The Port of Savannah is the fastest growing seaport in the U.S. Big money comes in through these waters, and not all of it’s clean. It’s rumored that Delgado Enterprises will ship and insure any goods out of the U.S. for a price.”
Philip leaned back and the barista placed our drinks on the table. We both thanked her, but left the drinks untouched.
“And what does that mean?” I asked.
“It means, my father didn’t care where the money came from as long as he could get rich off investing it. Vincent Delgado approached my father a couple of years ago, about a business deal. It was around the same time I was set to join his firm.”
“You’re an investment banker?”
“Bond trader.” There was a difference? I nodded like I understood anyway. “The plan had been for me to join SIS after spending a few years navigating the New York market. I didn’t care to work for him, but I knew how much it meant to my mom, so I thought I’d give it a go.”
“That’s commendable,” I said as I picked up my drink. I could only ignore perfection for so long.
“Well it was, until my father approached me about representing Delgado. The crook had a reputation, even in New York, and I knew what his money meant.”
“So, what did you do?” I asked.
“I flat out refused and couldn’t believe my father was greedy enough to take his money. I said some things that needed to be said and, after that, decided to stay in New York. If my father wanted to choose Delgado’s money over me, then to hell with him.”
“Amen,” I said and took another sip of my drink.
We both fell silent, lost in our own respective thoughts. I was thinking that I could absolutely see where Philip was coming from, where his dad was concerned. If I were him, I wouldn’t care much for Roger either. Unfortunately for Marion, that meant missing out on time with her son, which was heartbreaking. Th
e whole situation sucked. I think the worst part was that it wouldn’t have had to be that way if Roger hadn’t been so greedy.
“Eric never mentioned any of this to you?” Philip finally asked.
“Not a word. Then again, why would he?” I asked.
“Because investing for Delgado is like working for the mafia. Eric knows that. If he really wanted to help solve the case, he would’ve told the police to look there first.” Philip leaned back and he look convinced that Delgado was his man, or rather someone that worked for him.
Surrounded by coffee and cupcakes, I realized how deep this case could go. I would have to be careful moving forward. Cement shoes were not my style. I was not about to go swimming with the fishies.
“Do you know the detective working the case?” Philip asked.
“Detective Brandle? Yeah. I don’t know him really well, but I’ve talked to him a time or two.”
“Is there some secret to getting in touch with him, because he hasn’t returned a single one of my calls,” Philip said.
“Ah, good luck with that. It’s definitely hit or miss with him. The man’s overworked, to say the least.” I was hoping Detective Brandle was devoting more time to the case, but Philip’s comment made me skeptical.
“I heard you were there when they found the girlfriend’s body,” Philip said.
I thought carefully before responding, not sure where this conversation was going.
“I was,” I said.
“How did they find her?” he asked.
“You mean, what did she look like?” Well there was a morbid question. I was not about to go there. Not only that, but it creeped me out just thinking about it.
“No, no. I mean why were they searching the boat? Hadn’t the police already done that?”
“Your mom knows the answer to that one. They were prepping the boat for potential buyers. A walk-through was scheduled that morning,” I said.
“I hadn’t heard,” he replied.
“Oh. Well, a friend of mine was dropping some paperwork off on board, and I was just tagging along when we found her.” It just happened to be really bad luck on my part, I thought to myself.
Philip grew silent and stared out the window, drinking his cappuccino. The glittering rays of the sun had finally set. Outside, streetlamps buzzed as their bulbs flickered on. The light inside Sweet Thangs appeared to brighten. For the first time, I noticed Philip was wearing a silver wedding band. I pointed to the ring and asked, “Did you come here alone? Marion didn’t mention anything about your wife.”
Philip laughed like I was missing something. “Yeah, I came down a few days early. My husband, Scott, is flying in tomorrow.”
“Ah, gotcha. Sorry for assuming.” Heat rose to my face and I was embarrassed, to say the least. Glad I skipped the red dress. Female persuasion wouldn’t have gotten me very far.
“No, that’s okay. It was just another part of my life my father didn’t approve of.” Philip’s face adopted a scowl again.
“You two never got along, did you?” It was more of a statement than a question.
“No. Never.” I couldn’t tell if Philip was more angered or annoyed at his father’s lack of acceptance. I had a feeling that even if Roger had lived to be a hundred, that would’ve never changed.
* * *
I didn’t have to be embarrassed for long. Shortly after the husband comment, Philip announced that he should be going. He thanked me for meeting with him and then offered to walk me out. I waited until he pulled away in his car before jumping in my pickup to head home. Only, I didn’t feel like going straight home. Instead, I drove around aimlessly, zigzagging through neighborhoods, heading past the elementary school, and eventually driving along the coast. I didn’t know where I was going, until I pulled in the marina and found myself staring up at Finn’s apartment. Ugh, stupid boys. I wondered if Ms. Mystery woman was up there right now. The thought made my stomach churn.
My phone rang in my purse. I quickly retrieved it and looked at the caller ID. It was Finn! You’ve got to be kidding me. My stomach churned again. I looked around. Could he see me right now? Sweet sugar, how embarrassing. There was no point in not answering it, if he could. I’d just have to come up with a story quick enough, like leaving something at his place last night. Yeah, that sounded good. I was going with that.
Reluctantly, I answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Ziva, how’s it going?”
“It’s going all right. How about yourself?” I tried to hide the reluctance in my voice and let Finn steer the conversation.
“Not too bad. I’m just driving back home and thought I’d give you a call, seeing how I didn’t get to say goodbye yesterday morning.” I couldn’t get any luckier. My nan must be working overtime. I started the pickup and backed out, trying to get out of there before Finn made it back home.
“Oh, well, thanks. I’m doing good though.” I didn’t want to dwell on Finn’s sweet gesture. It looked like I was on his mind as much as he was on mine. Not that it mattered. He could think about me all day, but it wouldn’t change the fact that he had a girlfriend. I got my thoughts back on track and pulled out of the marina to start driving home.
“Hey, guess who I just talked to?” I said, putting an end to that conversation.
“Who?” he asked.
“Philip Siebold. You know, Marion and Roger’s son?” I replied.
“As in, the man you think might have attacked you and murdered his father?” Finn couldn’t have sounded more incredulous.
“That’s beside the point. I don’t think that anymore. Well, I guess he could still be a suspect, but that’s not the point,” I said.
“No, that is the point,” Finn said, not backing down.
“No, no, no. Just listen. According to Philip, Roger was involved in some shady business practices. Have you heard of a man named Vincent Delgado?” I asked.
“Dang, Ziva, you’re killing me. That’s bad. If Delgado’s involved, I don’t want to hear another word.” Yep, Finn was good and ticked off now. It was clear that he didn’t see this turn of events as a positive development.
I tried to play it down a bit. “Well, I don’t know if he is exactly,” I said.
“What do you mean? What did Philip say?” Finn asked.
“I thought you didn’t want to hear another word?” Yep, that’s me. Ziva Diaz, smart ass, at your service.
“Come on now,” Finn said. Was that exasperation I heard? Surely, that must be a better emotion than anger? That’s what I was hoping anyway.
“Okay, okay. What he said exactly was that his father was investing Delgado’s money, and that if he were the police, he’d look there first. He said he was surprised I didn’t know anything about it.”
“Why would you?” he asked.
“I know, right? That’s what I said.” I was glad Finn was following my train of thought. “Philip thinks Eric should have said something. I know he didn’t say anything to me, but I have no idea if he said something to Detective Brandle.” I really needed to talk to the detective and find out.
“Do you think Eric told him?” Finn asked.
“I have no idea. I’m going to try and call Detective Brandle next.”
“Good idea. Just be careful. God only knows how far up this case goes. Maybe it’s time you backed out of it.” That reminded me, I hadn’t said anything to Finn about the note on my car.
“There hasn’t been anyone suspicious hanging out by the docks, has there?” I asked.
“Not that I can think of. Why? What’s going on?” Finn sounded back on edge again.
“A note was left on my car the night I stayed at your place. Someone telling me to back off or else. Let me know if you see anyone or if someone says anything.”
Finn gave an honest to goodness sigh. “I haven’t heard anything, but I can ask around. Did you call the cops?” he asked.
“Yeah, Detective Brandle met me right away. He couldn’t do much but collect some evidence. Not
sure if anything will come of it.”
“Are you okay?” Finn seemed to be asking me that a lot lately. I wanted to tell him that I was fine; but at that moment, I couldn’t. I had just parked the truck in front of my apartment and was gathering my things, when I froze. Something wasn’t right. I got the feeling someone was watching me yet again, but I couldn’t spot them. I was getting mighty sick of that feeling.
The parking lot was deserted. The antique shop had closed hours before. No one was on the street either. I looked up to my apartment and saw that inside was pitch black. Not a single light was on, and I knew that wasn’t right. I had left the living room lamp on, and the outside light, before meeting Philip.
I grabbed the pepper spray on my key chain and looked around me, ready for a fight. No one jumped out at me, but that didn’t mean no one was there. The rational part of my brain insisted that a fuse inside was just blown. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d come home with no power; but tonight, I had a feeling the wiring wasn’t to blame for the darkness upstairs.
“Ziva? Ziva, you there?” Finn asked.
“Yeah, hold on a sec.” I wanted to keep Finn on the line in case I needed him to call the cops, but I couldn’t really talk to him right then. I needed to focus on my surroundings. Real quiet-like, I made my way up my outside staircase, scanning the area with every step. If someone was inside my apartment, I was ready to greet whoever with a can of pepper spray to the face.
At the top of the stairs, the front door to my apartment had been jimmied. The lock no longer clicked shut, from the abuse. I nudged the door open with my foot, keeping my shoulder against the building, ready for someone to attack. At that moment, I would’ve preferred a fight to the heavy silence that pressed on my chest. Hearing nothing, I peeked my head around and looked inside the door. Oh sweet, sweet sugar. In the dark, I could start to make out the mess. Someone had paid me a visit and left a wake of destruction in their path.
“Finn, I need to call you back. Someone just broke into my place.” I didn’t even wait to hear what he said. I had already hung up and dialed 9-1-1.
Makeup & Murder Page 12
