by Alexie Aaron
“The message?” Miles asked relieved.
“No, my paycheck.” Harry took a big step back as Miles lunged for him. Pete grabbed Miles in time. He missed Harry’s neck by inches.
“Mr. Feinstein, I think it’s time we had a long visit down at my office.”
“What, why?” Miles looked appalled. “Oh no, I had nothing to do with offing Carl. I heard that Cheryl bought it at rehearsal. So you can’t think I had anything to do with that bitch.”
“You called Manfred and Tobias.”
“I was asked to call them.”
“Who set up the room?”
“How the hell would I know?”
“You’re in charge of the theater, are you not?”
“Yes. But I didn’t kill them!”
“I think we better talk down at my office. Pete, escort Mr. Feinstein.”
“Are you charging me?”
“No, we just want to talk in a quiet, neutral place. I don’t think you want your past aired in front of anyone, do you?” Tony said evenly.
“Harry, you lock up.” Miles reached into his pocket and tossed his keys to him.
“I’m not on the clock.”
I pinched his arm.
“Sure, no problem. What about your car? Want me to drive it to the station?”
“Hell no, it’s safer here than in your hands. Anyone who’d let you drive their car is insane.”
“Hey now!” Harry protested.
Well, I thought as I walked out of Miles’s office. It must be true then. I’m insane.
Miles brushed past me with Pete on his heels. Tony shuffled some papers around. I think he was still looking. “You don’t think he did it, do you?” I asked. He didn’t say anything.
“He was going to drink the punch,” I volunteered.
“We don’t know if the punch was poisoned do we?” Tony ushered us out. “Look I have to go look in on Bob, but tell me something.”
“Sure. What?”
“If the killer was sending messages: don’t be late, don’t copy. If he would have succeeded this evening, what would the message be?”
I thought for a moment and then said, “Don’t socialize.”
~
Manfred and Tobias left with their bassoons. Bob was to follow them home. That left Harry and I in the empty theater. I walked around with him checking doors and shutting off lights. The Avery Theater seemed to have aged so in the last couple of days, as if Carl’s death started a decay that would eventually rot the floorboards and eat away the curtains. I couldn’t get several thoughts out of my head, so I asked Harry if we could stay just a while longer and brainstorm. He and I went down and sat in the audience.
Looking up at the stage I started, “If the same killer killed both Carl and Cheryl and attempted to kill Manfred and Tobias - not to mention cutting oleander all night and dumping it at my house - he has something definite in mind. Don’t be late. Don’t copy. Don’t socialize. What is my don’t?”
“Don’t question?” Harry offered. “You know it sounds like instructions to me.”
“I don’t follow?”
“When we were going to Bernice’s you gave me a list of don’ts. Who in the band would do that?”
“The conductor. Who is a doctor of Botany. Who has the most to lose if the band stinks. But, Harry, he just seems too remote. I think that you would have to really enjoy killing to do what he did to Carl. I don’t think Doctor Sanders enjoys anything.”
“Well, let’s keep him in mind. Who else?”
“Brian hasn’t been interviewed yet.”
“The Satanist?”
“Occultist. I know his wife Dorothy. Maybe we should give him a courtesy call.”
“Without the police?” Harry conspired.
“Yes, definitely without the police,” I said, getting to my feet. I barely made it up the steps and over to the back entrance where I propped myself against the wall as I waited while Harry checked all the doors.
Harry turned out the last of the lights, and as he locked the door, something jogged my memory and it played back.
“Harry?” I touched his arm. “Why did the bassoon players bring their instruments?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe they were told to.”
“Just seems odd to me.”
~
Harry told me to wait up on the dock while he brought the car. He arrived, opened the driver’s door and started to help me in. I looked at my bare feet and said, “Harry, why don’t you drive.” I was all but herded to the passenger side, put in the car and seat-belted in before I could change my mind. Harry got in the driver’s seat, and I said, “Let’s drive with the top down.”
The top went down, and I put in a classic Toad the Wet Sprocket CD in the player.
“Let me take the long way home, and I will buy you an ice cream,” Harry offered politely as he headed the car to the beach road.
“Sure,” I said. “Why not.” I put my seat back and looked at the stars listening to the roar of the engine just under the soft sounds of Toad.
Chapter Twelve
Driving along the Atlantic with the warm wind in my hair did a lot to improve my mood. My feet were looking angry, and my body felt as if I had run a marathon. Harry was handling my car with the spirit of an Andretti. I had to remind him constantly to watch his speed. At one point I just gave up and closed my eyes.
What the hell happened to my life of ease and empty-nest-dom? Well, the hubby bailed out leaving me alone but not uncomfortable. I still resided in our four bedroom house plus mother in-law apartment out back. It was half mine according to the sovereign state of Florida. The market had fallen and we would have to wait until it was financially smart to sell the family home. It was sad thinking about the drift apart that had happened to Luke and I, so I pushed it away from my mind.
Harry had pulled into an overlook area and got out to stretch his legs. The ocean beckoned me, but someone would have to carry me over the sand, into the water and keep me afloat as I was not up to it.
I gazed over the water and thought about an isle in the north Atlantic. It was a big one. England drew me to it like no other place in the world. I actually felt homesick for the west Country at times. Sure, Noelle was there in school, but it was more than that. It pulled me. You would think my recent adventures there would have quenched my thirst for hedgerows and ale. I gazed down at one of my battle-scarred feet and could just see where Ivana had stabbed me with my own knife. There were other scars, some flesh wounds but others that would take me even longer to deal with. I had killed two people. Two bad people, but I had killed and there was no way to cancel clear those thoughts.
“Cin, are you alright?” Harry’s voice penetrated my thoughts.
I sat up and realized I had tears rolling down my face. “I’m fine, Harry, just tired,” I said as I wiped at them with my hands. Harry handed me a napkin he had saved from his ice cream cone. It had a little cherry dip on it but I managed to avoid painting my face with the sugar as I dried my eyes.
“I was thinking...” he started.
“Oh, no...”
“Come on, I think it’s time for us to investigate these murders.”
“Oh no,” I repeated, this time with alarm. “Believe me, Harry, this isn’t our business.”
“Listen for a minute. I have been mule-ing this over.”
“Mulling.”
“I said mulling...”
“No you said, mule-ing, as in a mule.”
Harry wrinkled up his face and decided to let it go. “I’ve been, pondering? Yes, pondering your situation, Cin, and you are a suspect. They are going to wrap all this around your neck if we just sit by and let them.”
“Why do you think this?” I said, crossing my arms, worried that the kid was right.
“First, you openly hated Carl and Cheryl.”
“True.”
“Secondly, you have no love lost for Manfred and Tobias. Not that I blame you as the two guys freak me out.”
“What about Miles? He didn’t look too clean tonight.”
“Nah, you know the guy isn’t clever enough.”
“And I am?”
“Oh yes, plus you had all that bad business in England.”
“I was exonerated.”
“Not really. Once you have the big M attached to your name it never goes away. Look at OJ.”
“You’re comparing me to...” I sat up and struggled out of my seat belt. “It was self-defense!”
“You know that, I know that, but really can you see Tony ignoring that you are capable, bum arm or not?” He stopped as something on the road behind us caught his eye.
I whirled around to see a police motorcycle roll into the overlook, lights flashing. Officer Dudley pulled his bike behind the Z3, blocking Harry and I in. I started to get out of the car, and Harry motioned for me to stay put. He waited until the other man dismounted from his bike and walked over before talking.
“What’s the problem, Officer?”
Dudley pointed to the information sign in the overlook then to our car and then to his watch. He smiled just before he flipped open his citation book.
Harry and I whirled around and looked at the sign. It read, “Open to Public Sunrise to Sunset.”
I looked to the west, and the sun just hit the horizon.
“Come on, Dudley, we were just leaving,” I protested.
Dudley’s eyebrows twitched at the exclusion of his title, Officer. That was one strike against us.
“You have to be freaking kidding me,” Harry complained.
Cursing at a cop, two strikes and climbing.
“Oh this is just payback for the other night,” I blurted.
Strike three. Dudley scribbled furiously in his book. Just as he finished and was handing the ticket to Harry, another set of lights, this time attached to the Village of Palm Beach cruiser, announced that the local boys had arrived.
Harry and I looked at each other. I was beginning to think I was guilty of murder by all this attention.
Two beautifully adorned officers of the law exited their vehicle. Their uniforms were pressed with military creases. Each young man looked as if he had walked off of the pages of a gentlemen’s style magazine. One officer hung back, leaning seductively, from my point of view, on the hood of the cruiser.
The other addressed Dudley, “What’s going on here?”
“Parked illegally, after hours,” Dudley stated.
“Since when did Coconut Grove police have jurisdiction in Palm Beach?” the officer asked in disdain. He walked over and held his hand out and Harry dutifully put the ticket in his hand. He scanned it and pointed out a spelling error to Dudley before handing it to the red-faced cop. “Destroy this,” he said to Dudley and turned to us. “You were just leaving, I assume.”
“Yes Officer,” Harry said reverently, one Brownie point for using officer, and two for the feigned respect.
“Good,” he said and motioned to Dudley to move his bike.
Harry jumped in the car, backed out slowly, and drove the speed limit until we were off the island. The last we saw of Dudley was him getting a dressing down from our Ken doll rescuers.
~
Harry pulled the car into the garage. I crawled out of the car as my overworked leg muscles were screaming at me. “Hot tub,” I said aloud.
“What?”
“Sorry, I’m used to talking to myself.” I opened the door and turned off the alarm. “Remind me to give you the code.”
“Has it changed in five years?”
“Nope.”
“Then I know it.” Harry put the garage door down and reset the alarm.
Harry followed me into the den. He flopped on the couch, and I eased myself into the desk chair and contemplated the blinking light on the answering machine. “Do I have to?” I didn’t wait for an answer and played the messages. Not too bad. Just Bernice and Alex checking in. I sat back. I would talk to them tomorrow. Right now, pizza and beer. I dialed the local pizza chain, which Alex still had on speed dial from last summer. A familiar voice answered, and I gave the order. “Mrs. Fin-Lathen! Do you know this is your forty-ninth pizza?”
“Um yes, I guess so.” Note to self, examine diet regimen. “Tammy, it’s Ms. Fin-Lathen, please, or how about Cin?” I gave her the order, and after she computed the charge I asked, “I have an unusual request. Do you have someone I know on delivery tonight?” I didn’t want to worry about it being poisoned.
“John’s here. You know John Zech? He went to school with Alex.”
“That would be wonderful, Tammy.” I hung up and gave the phone to Harry. “Call your mother.” I got up and left. I needed to clean up my scratched legs before the pizza arrived. I got no further than the living room when the ringing of my cell phone brought me back. I wasn’t in time, Harry had just answered it.
“Cin’s phone. Harry speaking.” He was nodding his head. “Yes, it’s me, Mr. Lathen. Yes, she’s here.” He handed the phone to me.
“Luke!” I did my best to sound chipper.
“Was that horrible Harry?” Luke started.
“Yes. Alex sent him over.”
“Why?”
I explained the recent events, editing out the last bit at the beach. His voiced calmed down a little. “Just don’t let him drive your car.”
I didn’t say anything.
“You already let him drive the BMW?”
“Well, yes.”
“Honestly, you are too indulgent with these friends of the kids. It’s your car but please be careful.”
“The village police are supposed to be watching the house.”
“I wasn’t talking about the killer, I was talking about Harry.” Luke sighed. “On a brighter note we are stopping over in London. We are going to get to have dinner with Noelle. I called her, and she’s coming in to see us.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, trying to keep the acid out of my voice. “You may not want to tell her about Harry.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s staying in her room.”
“Why not the guest room?”
“Better view. I got to go, I hear the pizza man.”
“Take care Cin,” he said hanging up.
“Fuck off, deserter,” I said after the dial tone. I hung up and got to the door before Harry. I didn’t want to explain to half the village why I had Harry spending the night.
~
Pizza digested, beers drunk, and I was feeling more like myself. My brain was functioning on mellow but still functioning. I decided I had better go out and get the mail. It had been sitting in the box for two days. Before Harry would let me go outside I had to take a flashlight and put on rubber gloves. “Just in case of poison pen letters?” I teased as he stuck the ugly yellow kitchen gloves on my hands. He opened the front door and looked around before letting me out.
I felt ridiculous and couldn’t help giggling as I held up my hands like a surgeon and walked to the mailbox. I opened the lid and shone the light in. Nothing but letters and catalogs stared back at me. I grabbed the bunch and ran back up the driveway as a pair of headlights announced a car moving down the street. Harry opened the door, and I made it in before my neighbor pulled into his driveway.
Putting the mail on the dining room table, I began to sort it. Bill, bill, junk mail, Victoria’s Secret catalog, bill, bill, letter with block lettering? I handed the catalog to Harry and pushed the last bit of mail around. No post office box. The stamp hadn’t been canceled. It was addressed to Ms. Fin-Lathen. No return address. The big question was should I open it?
Harry was content flipping through the catalog and ogling the girls. Leaving the remaining mail unsorted, I walked into the den and dialed the phone with much difficulty because I still had the gloves on.
“Curtis here.” I was beginning to like that voice.
“This is Cin. I may have a bit of a problem, maybe not.”
“Whoa, what’s going on?"
“It’s the
mail. I have a letter, no return address, no post office mark, no cancellation, and it’s written in block letters to Ms. Fin-Lathen. Could be junk mail, but I don’t feel so good about it.”
“Are you alone?”
“No, Harry is in the other room. But he doesn’t know yet.”
“You want to bring it in?”
“Nope, I’m pretty tired. Can we deal with it tomorrow?” I asked, not really expecting a positive answer.
“Let me call Dave Buslowski. Leave it alone till I call back.”
I left it on the desk and walked back to the dining room, sorted the remaining mail and began to open the bills.
“You still have your gloves on,” Harry observed.
“Yes, I guess I do,” I commented, not taking them off.
“Any special reason why you still have your gloves on?”
“Well, I received a suspicious looking letter.”
“Where is it?”
“In the den. Wait. Sit back down. I already called Tony, and he’s calling Sergeant Dave. He told me to leave it alone.” I didn’t make eye contact with him.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“When it was safe.” I could see he was hurt. “Try to understand, I know you’re a grownup but you’re like - no, you are - one of my kids.”
Harry just shook his head. “I took care of my mother, and I can take care of you. It’s time for you to learn to trust someone else. You can’t control everything. This killer is counting on you to do your normal Fin-Lathen thing. You have to think different here. I am not your son, but I am your friend. Start leaning on me more.”
“You’re right, Harry. Okay, if you’re going to be my friend then you are going to have to learn to put up with me. I am not used to relying on anyone. I just do what I think is best because, basically, there was no one around to ask.”
“Fine. Now let’s go into the den and wait for Tony’s call.” Harry got up and walked in all dignified. It took all my control not to giggle. He sat down at the desk and took out the letter opener and pushed the letter around the blotter. The phone rang and Harry answered it. “Lathen residence. Yeah, okay.” He hung up the phone. “Get dressed. We are going to the Sheriff’s Office. A car is coming for us and the letter.”
