“She was in here earlier. She said she had some errands to run and that she’d be back right after lunch.”
“I forgot she had a lunch date.” Carlita whacked the palm of her hand to her forehead. “Duh.”
The front doorbell chimed and Carlita watched as Detective Wilson stepped inside the store. He strode to the back. “Hello Mrs. Garlucci.”
“Hello Detective Wilson.”
“Looks like you got a nice operation going here.”
“My son, Tony, has done an excellent job.”
“I see.” Detective Wilson cleared his throat. “This isn’t a social visit. I’m here to take a look at the guns you have on hand.”
Chapter 6
“You can’t be serious.” Carlita said the first thing that popped into her head. “My daughter didn’t kill this Luis fellow.”
“Mrs. Garlucci, I need to follow up on all leads. Your daughter was at the scene of the crime. She admitted she arranged to meet a stranger, after dark, in an out-of-the-way location and Mr. Luis made a point of checking your daughter out. Something isn’t adding up.”
“My daughter writes Maf…er, crime novels. She was doing research. Mr. Luis was investigating high profile, unsolved murders. My thinkin’ is that someone out there didn’t want Mr. Luis’ investigations to see the light of day.”
“There’s always that possibility, but in the meantime I would like to check out your gun collection.”
“They’re over here.” Tony led the detective to the gun case.
Detective Wilson removed several guns from the case and studied each one before jotting notes in a notepad. He slipped his notepad into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone and snapped several pictures of the guns. “Do you have any other guns here?”
“A couple, to protect the business.” Tony led him to the office desk and showed him the guns.
After Detective Wilson inspected the guns, he headed toward the exit and Carlita hurried after him. “You didn’t find a match, did you?”
“I can’t discuss the case,” the detective said as he reached for the doorknob. “I can appreciate your daughter’s enthusiasm, and I admire anyone who can put pen to paper and come up with a story that doesn’t come out sounding like a jumbled mess. In fact, I would love to write a book. Boy, have I got some stories to tell.”
“I bet you do,” Carlita murmured.
“Sometimes it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie, if you catch my drift.” The detective made his way out of the store. He shoved his hands in his pockets and casually strolled past the front window.
Carlita retraced her steps and watched as Tony carefully placed the guns back in the case and locked it. “What’s your take?”
Tony shrugged. “I don’t think he found anything.”
The back door to the store flew open and Mercedes darted inside. “I think I mighta opened up a can of worms with this Madison Square murder investigation.” She tugged her helmet off and fluffed her hair. “Zachary, I mean Detective Jackson admitted that after I told him about Jon Luis’ death and my research into the murder, he decided to do a little digging around in the police department’s records.”
“And?” Carlita prompted.
“The Madison Square murder investigation records are sealed.”
“Sealed as in no one gets to look at ‘em?” Tony asked.
“Exactly,” Mercedes nodded. “He said he’s never seen anything like it before. Zachary is kind of a history buff. He likes to go through old cases when he’s working desk duty and he said this was the first time he’s ever run across sealed records.”
Carlita leaned her elbows on the top of the gun display case. “Well, Detective Wilson was just here. He wanted to check out our guns for sale, probably because he’s tryin’ to pin this Luis’ death on you.”
“Great.” Mercedes wrinkled her nose. “Did he find a match?”
“I dunno, but before he left, he said maybe you should let sleeping dogs lie. In other words, stop digging around in the old murder investigation.”
“That makes it even more intriguing,” Mercedes said. “Zachary told me the Honeycutt property is a restaurant, which I already knew, based on my research. What I didn’t know is the owner offers tours. It’s by invitation only.”
“I heard the same from Tori Montgomery,” Carlita said.
“Oh, I almost forgot you met with her. Was Ms. Montgomery able to shed any light on the Madison Square murder?”
“Not much,” Carlita said. “Tori told me she didn’t know the Honeycutts. They ran in different circles. She did say she thought the police ended the investigation prematurely and she suspects someone greased the palms of officials to close the case quickly.”
“There’s one more thing Zachary told me in confidence,” Mercedes said.
“Oh?” Carlita lifted a brow.
“That Jon Luis recently filed a police report. His apartment was broken into and ransacked just over a week ago. From what he could see on the report, nothing had been stolen, but someone tore the place up.” Mercedes glanced at the wall clock. “The author group and I are having a special get together at The Book Nook this afternoon to discuss Luis’ death. I thought maybe we could contact the owner of the Honeycutt place and see if we can snag a tour.”
“We, as in you and me?” Carlita asked.
“Yeah. I mean, unless you’re scared it’s haunted.”
“I’m not scared,” Carlita said. “If I was, I woulda moved out of this place a long time ago.” Carlita’s home had once been a casket company and more than one local had told her they believed it was haunted. There was also the fact that they’d discovered a body hidden behind a basement wall. Many people claimed numerous homes in the Savannah historic district were haunted.
“Why don’t you check with Autumn first? If she doesn’t wanna go, I’ll go with you,” Carlita said. “In the meantime, I’m gonna check on Rambo. I’m sure he’s itchin’ to go out.” She headed upstairs while Mercedes stayed behind to help her brother.
Gina and Paulie, with the kids in tow, arrived a short time later and Carlita fixed sandwiches while she listened to them talk about their morning sightseeing activities.
According to Gina, the children loved the trolley tour, begged for a horse and carriage ride and settled for a trip to the children’s museum instead.
Carlita finished making the sandwiches and Paulie helped his mother carry the food to the table. “Gina and I was thinkin’ about taking the riverboat dinner cruise if you wouldn’t mind watchin’ the kids.”
“Of course not,” Carlita said. “We can pop popcorn and watch movies.”
“Can we spend the night?” Gracie asked.
“Sure, why not?” Carlita wasn’t sure how Tony would feel about camping out with his nieces and nephews, but it was only for one night and if it helped Paulie and Gina move a step closer to repairing their relationship, it would be well worth the minor inconvenience.
“A sleepover it is,” Carlita said. “After you finish your lunch, you better run down to the pawnshop and warn Uncle Tony.”
The children hurriedly finished their food and Paulie took them downstairs while Gina and Carlita cleared the table and washed dishes.
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom to freshen up,” Carlita said, as she hung the dishrag on the edge of the sink.
“I’m gonna step outside for a sec.” Gina made her way out onto the balcony where she reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
Carlita’s heart sank as she watched her daughter-in-law light a cigarette. The last time she’d seen Gina smoke was years ago, before the children were born.
She wandered into the bathroom and returned to the living room a short time later where she spotted Gina peering through the glass. When she caught a glimpse of Carlita, she began waving her arms.
Carlita walked over to the door and twisted the knob. The door was locked. “That’s weird.” She flipped the deadbolt and pulled the door open.
&nb
sp; “I got locked out.”
“I wonder how that happened.” Carlita studied the deadbolt, flipping it back and forth. “It’s a new door. We useta have a slider, but switched to French doors so I could add a doggie door for Rambo. We’ll have to keep an eye on it, I guess.”
“I’m gonna grab the kids and head to the apartment to put them down for a nap before tonight,” Gina said. “I don’t want them to be cranky when they get here later.”
Carlita followed Gina into the hall. “I appreciate that, Gina.”
“Thanks for offering to watch them.”
Whack. Whack. The hall floor shook as the whacking noise, which was coming from Elvira’s apartment, grew louder.
“What in the world is she doing in her apartment?” Carlita asked.
“You got your hands full with that one.” Gina rolled her eyes and descended the stairs while Carlita strode to her tenant’s door. She rapped loudly and when she didn’t answer, she jabbed the doorbell. “Elvira! It’s me. I know you’re in there.”
She tilted her head as she listened for footsteps, but there was nothing. “Elvira!”
There was still no answer and Carlita stomped back to her apartment.
“What was all that racket?” Mercedes hurried into the living room. “It sounded like a wrecking ball hitting the side of the building.”
“Elvira.”
“She’s at it again. Did you knock on her door?”
“Yes. I rang the bell, too, and she didn’t answer,” Carlita said. “She’s up to something. The fact she refused to open the door worries me.”
“She’s a trip,” Mercedes said. “I hope she tones it down. I’m trying to write.”
“I’m taking Rambo for a walk.” Carlita slipped the leash off the hook and reached for Rambo’s collar. “I bet you’re gonna love having the kids over later, huh?” She clipped the leash to Rambo’s collar and they headed outside. “Let’s go to Walton Square.”
As they walked, Carlita mulled over Luis’ death and the comments Detectives Wilson and Zachary Jackson had made. Was Mercedes playing with fire? Perhaps someone out there was desperate to keep the Madison Square murder buried.
Or maybe Jon Luis had other enemies. She made a mental note to talk with Mercedes, before she met with the other authors.
Rambo and Carlita circled the square and then strolled the center sidewalk, stopping to investigate several of the large oak trees before returning home.
When they reached the apartment, she hung Rambo’s leash on the hook and headed to Mercedes’ bedroom. The door was locked, so she rapped lightly.
The door flew open and Carlita jumped back, clutching her chest. “I will never, ever get used to you doing that.”
“Sorry Ma.” Mercedes leaned her hip against the doorframe. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk to you about your author meeting and Jon Luis. What’s the deal on this old mystery? Obviously, you’ve done your research, you and your author group. I want you to tell me everything you know.”
“I’m learning more by the minute. Follow me.” Mercedes waved her mother inside her bedroom. “I’ve been doin’ a little more digging around. Have a seat.”
Carlita perched on the edge of Mercedes’ office chair while Mercedes reached for the mouse. “Here’s a picture of the house at the time of the party and Mr. Honeycutt’s death. Mr. Honeycutt was an architect. He also owned a wrought iron factory.”
Mercedes straightened her back. “Have you ever noticed all of the ornate wrought iron on these historic downtown homes? Chances are Mr. Honeycutt’s company, Honeycutt Ornamental Designs, sold them the ironwork.”
Mercedes went on to tell her mother that, at the time the Honeycutt Manor was constructed, it was the largest, costliest home ever built in Savannah. “The Honeycutts lived the charmed life. Teresa was involved in a bunch of different social circles including several humanitarian groups. The woman dabbled in horse farms and even showed horses until her accident.”
“Accident?”
“Teresa was thrown from a horse and paralyzed.”
“What a terrible tragedy,” Carlita said.
“The Honeycutts sued the owner of the riding stable. It was a mess. Half of the Savannah residents took the Honeycutt’s side while the rest sided with the stable owners.” Mercedes glanced at her watch. “I better get goin’. Don’t want to be late for my meeting.”
Carlita followed her daughter to the door. “Be careful.”
“I’m gonna be keepin’ a close eye on the others in the group. It’s too much of a coincidence they all knew I was meetin’ Luis and next thing you know, the guy takes a bullet.”
Carlita followed her daughter to the bottom of the stairs and held the door while Mercedes steered her Segway into the alley.
“Oh. I almost forgot to tell ya. I snagged us a VIP tour of the Honeycutt Manor tomorrow night at nine.” Mercedes hopped onto the Segway. “All I had to do was tell them we lived in Walton Square and owned the old casket company’s building.”
“Great,” Carlita muttered. “I can hardly wait.”
Chapter 7
Mercedes eased her Segway to the side of the bike rack, looped the cable around an end bar and snapped the lock in place. She removed her helmet and then made her way inside the small bookstore.
The tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted in the air and Mercedes sniffed appreciatively. She liked to tease Cricket that she knew how to lure new customers to the store by offering free samples of her gourmet coffees and tea.
The murmur of soft voices echoed from the back and Mercedes zigzagged around the biography bookshelf, past the travel section until she reached the conference room where the small group of authors regularly met.
She caught Stephanie Rumsfield’s eye and made her way over to an empty seat.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Stephanie said. “We’ve been sitting here, trying to figure out how on earth you managed to get caught up in Jon Luis’ murder investigation.”
“I was lucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Mercedes slumped into the seat and slid her helmet onto the table. “What a mess.”
Cricket hurried into the room carrying a carafe of coffee in one hand and juggling a stack of cups in the other. “I saw Austin walk in. The only person we’re waiting on is Tom Muldoon. He called a short time ago and said he might be a couple of minutes late.”
Mercedes took the coffee cups from Cricket. “I wonder if they serve decent coffee in prison.”
“That’s not funny,” Cricket gasped. “We’ve got to figure out what happened to poor Jon Luis and clear your name.”
“At least they didn’t show your mugshot on the news,” Austin Crawford drawled as he stepped into the room. “If you were gonna take him out, you shouldn’t have told us about the meeting.”
“I did not take him out,” Mercedes said. “He was already a goner when I got there.” She caught a movement out in the front of the store. “Tom is here.”
Cricket stuck her head into the hall. “You got the front under control Tillie?”
“Yes ma’am.” Tillie waddled to the doorway. “Now y’all holler if you need anything.”
“Will do.” Cricket closed the door as Tom Muldoon settled into an empty seat.
“Cricket said there was something to report on Jon Luis. Did you meet with him, Mercedes?” Tom asked.
“Sort of, except I didn’t get to talk to him. When I got to our meeting spot, I found him lying on the ground, dead. He died of a single gunshot wound.”
“How terrible,” Stephanie said. “Maybe he was caught up in a love triangle and his lover shot him.”
“Only a romance writer would come up with that conclusion,” Austin said. “Or maybe it was one of those Hatfield and McCoys-type family feuds that spilled over from decades ago and an old enemy murdered him.”
“Only a historical mystery writer would think that,” Stephanie shot back.
“Touché’,” Aus
tin grinned.
“Regardless of the circumstances, the lead investigator, Skip Wilson, is determined to pin it on me,” Mercedes said. “He stopped by our pawnshop earlier to take a look at our guns for sale and asked a bunch of questions.”
“You’re a mystery writer, Mercedes. What do you think happened?” Cricket asked.
“I don’t know what to think, other than I’m still in shock. I have a couple pictures of the crime scene.”
“Let’s see,” Tom said.
Mercedes whipped her cell phone out of her back pocket. “They’re here somewhere. Ah, here they are.” She handed her phone to Cricket, who slipped her reading glasses on and studied the pictures.
“He’s in an unnatural position.” She flipped to the second photo. “Are these his keys? Yes, I suppose they probably are. I see a pool of blood,” she said as she handed the phone to Austin.
“Nothing noteworthy on the body, but the set of keys might be a clue,” Austin said before passing the phone to Stephanie.
“Maybe Jon Luis was going to meet his lover and they’re hotel room keys,” she said.
“Let me look.” Tom Muldoon quietly studied the photos. “I see a key fob. Luis probably locked his car door, turned around and met his murderer. Never even had time to put his keys in his pocket.” He handed the phone to Mercedes.
“There’s something else,” Mercedes said. “The detective told me Luis had written my name down on a yellow pad. They found it in his apartment on his desk. I guess he was checkin’ me out.”
“Or maybe he wanted to check out what kind of books you already published,” Cricket theorized.
“True. I hadn’t considered that angle.” The group discussed Luis’ death at length. With little information to go on, they were unable to come up with any theories.
Mercedes almost told them about the 1976 Tour of the Honeycutt Manor, but decided against it. The other writers were also suspects, at least in her mind, and she didn’t want to tip her hand that she planned to visit the scene of the Madison Square murder.
Setup in Savannah: A Made in Savannah Cozy Mystery (Made in Savannah Cozy Mysteries Series Book 7) Page 5
