Double Down

by De Leo, Vicky

  “While she was here it was a strange set up. Since Dee was the head of HR, I dealt mostly with her, but everyone else went directly to Monica. I don’t think she was well liked, but it was understood she had pull in high places. When she left, it’s like everyone took a collective sigh of relief.”

  “Who was her connection?”

  “Someone in corporate. Some people said Darryl, but I’m not sure if that’s due to inside information, or if he was tagged because of his reputation. I can’t imagine Darryl threatening anyone.”

  “Maybe she just used his name.” I told him what we suspected about her blackmailing people. “She told them I was in on it.”

  He patted my hand. “No one who knows you would believe that.”

  “Thanks.”

  When I asked if she was close to anyone, he gave me the same name, Connie Rigdon, which Dee had given me. He said she was working now and offered to introduce me.

  Connie worked the cocktail lounge. It was late afternoon. Business was slow, with only a couple of tables occupied. I sat at the bar next to the cocktail station, so we could talk without disrupting her work. I watched her as she made her rounds. Short, probably not more than five three, she carried a little more weight around the middle than some of the younger cocktail waitresses. I estimated that she was at least forty. She wore heavy makeup. She’d pushed the girls up so high they were almost falling out of her uniform. She didn’t look anxious to talk to me, but could hardly avoid it, considering where I was sitting. I told her I was here to attend Monica’s funeral and I felt bad that I hadn’t gotten to know her better.

  “I heard that you were good friends.”

  She nodded

  .“ Were you able to keep in touch after she left?”

  “Yeah, I called her a couple of times.”

  “How did you two meet?”

  She seemed reluctant to answer. She looked over the lounge as if searching for a reason to leave, but both tables had fresh drinks in front of them. Finding no escape, she mumbled, “Her ex-husband introduced us.”

  She slid me a sideways glance, looking for a reaction. I kept my face neutral. That could explain a lot. If she knew Jimmy, then she must have known Monica as Marcia Sullivan. “So you knew her before she came to work here.”

  Slightly more relaxed now she said, “Yeah, you could say I helped her get the job. After Jimmy was sent up, she came to visit me one day at work. Told me she changed her name and was looking for a fresh start. Mr. Collins, who’s one of those VPs from the corporate office, was here. Monica couldn’t take her eyes off him, so I offered to introduce her. They seemed to hit it off right away, spent a long time talking to each other. The next thing I knew she was working in HR.”

  So Darryl hadn’t really known Monica all that long. “Did Monica ever indicate to you that she was afraid or in danger?”

  “Nah. The last time I talked to her, she seemed happy, said she had something in the works that was going to solve all her problems.” Two men walked into the lounge and sat down at a table, so she left to take their order, making a round of the other tables to pick up empty glasses and check on the other guests.

  I waited until she had delivered the new drinks before I asked my last question. “Do you have any idea why someone would want her dead?”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Monica liked knowing other people’s secrets. I think one of those secrets got her killed.”

  I had to agree.

  Chapter Twelve

  I returned to my room just in time to change for the funeral. I slipped into my favorite little black dress, a sheath you could either dress up for an evening out, or pair with a jacket for work. Without jewelry, and with a sedate pair of black heels, it was also appropriate for funerals. Delgado knocked on my door as I was putting on black jade earrings.

  As usual, he looked stunning in his black suit, white shirt, and sedate gray stripped tie. He took me by the shoulders. Holding me away, looked at me critically. “You didn’t take a nap did you?”

  “No. Do I look that bad?”

  He smiled and took me in his arms. “You look beautiful. I just worry about you. I promised your mother I would take care of you, but so far I haven’t done a very good job.”

  I reached up and caressed the back of his head. I ran my fingers through his thick black hair, and then pulled him down for a kiss. “I think I know how you can remedy that,” I said after coming up for air.

  He chuckled. “We better leave now so we won’t be late. It’s very rude to arrive late for a funeral.”

  I sighed. He was right. It was time to go. I grabbed my purse and a jacket and followed him out to the car. Once we were on our way, I asked him about his meeting with the local police.

  “It’s customary for a detective to check in, especially when there’s an ongoing investigation which involves both departments. I needed to tell them we would be at the funeral. They checked on your Martin Sanders for me. He did serve time. They couldn’t confirm whether he had known Monica here in St. Louis. They also let me talk to Monica’s ex-husband, Jimmy, who’s now in custody. He claims he never met Martin. What did you find out?”

  How could a man who’d known me for only a short time, know me so well? Was I that transparent? Not wanting to believe that, I told myself that reading people was probably part of his training as a cop. I told him about my conversations with Stan and Connie. “Stan confirmed what Dee told me about Monica. Managers seemed to be afraid of her. Connie says she introduced Monica to Darryl, so I guess he lied to Dee when he told her he had known Monica a long time.”

  We ended up arriving at the church a few minutes before the funeral was to start. Dee met us at the door. We had met many times in meetings over the years. A smart black woman, what she lacked in education, she made up in shrewd. Not blessed with a great deal of tact, her tell-it-like-it-is approach turned off some people. In meetings she could be relied on to cut to the meat of a problem, and come up with a no nonsense solution that I found refreshing. It was also why her less than honest referral for Monica surprised me. Too big-boned to be considered pretty, she exuded an earthy sexuality.

  When I introduced her to Delgado as the detective investigating Monica’s case, she gave him a big toothy grin. Holding her hands out in front of her she said, “I’m guilty, take me away.”

  He laughed.

  I tucked my arm in his. Smiling I told her, “Back off girl, I saw him first.”

  As we followed her inside, Delgado leaned in and whispered, “Did you just call dibs?”

  “Absolutely not! That would have been juvenile masculine behavior. I, on the other hand, simply informed her that I would rip her face off if she even so much as looked at you, in a very ladylike manner, of course.”

  “Oh, I see, much more mature.”

  “Exactly,” I said smiling.

  Dee introduced us to Marcia’s mother. I reminded myself that her mother and friends would remember her as Marcia not Monica. In her youth, Lorraine La Salle, Marcia’s mother, had probably been just as beautiful as Marcia. Now, still blond with no gray in evidence, obviously nipped and tucked, her skin had been stretched so tight she looked more like a plastic doll than a real person. She’d crammed her voluptuous figure into a black spandex dress with a scooped neck, showing off more than enough cleavage. When we expressed our condolences, she dabbed her overly makeup eyes delicately with a white lace handkerchief and murmured, “My poor baby.”

  There were only a few people in the chapel. I saw the cocktail waitress I’d spoken to sitting with a couple of other people I assumed were also Royal employees. We took seats in the middle. I scanned the chapel, but I didn’t see the senator anywhere. Maybe he and Lorraine weren’t together anymore, or maybe he didn’t think it appropriate to show up. When the music started, two older ladies led Lorraine up the aisle to the first pew.

  Shortly before the start of the service, three men slipped into a pew across from us. Two of them were in suits, the other dressed in
dark slacks and a white shirt.

  Delgado nudged me. “That’s the ex-husband, Jimmy Sullivan,” indicating the man in slacks seated between the two men in suits. “I’m surprised they allowed him to attend, since they were officially divorced.”

  Jimmy looked to be in his forties. With well-developed muscles, very short blond hair, and tattoos on his neck and hands, he reminded me of the Aryan gang members recently in the news.

  The service was short and basic. Afterwards Lorraine invited everyone to attend a reception at her house just a couple of blocks over. With so few mourners, we felt compelled to put in an appearance.

  Leaving the church, we saw Jimmy being put into a police car for the return trip to jail. The two detectives, however, joined us on the steps. Delgado introduced the two men to Dee and me. Detective Franklin, a tall powerfully built black man with an easy smile, shook our hands. His partner Detective Rowe, short and thin with pale sallow skin that looked like it never saw the light of day, merely nodded. The lines on his face said the scowl he was wearing had been there awhile.

  Detective Franklin said, “The mother lives just two blocks over. Do you mind if we walk? There’s not much parking around here.”

  The neighborhood consisted of charming older row houses of brick, with steep front steps leading to small covered porches, usually with a swing or a rocker. Cracked sidewalks, some lined with wilting flowers, divided shallow front yards. Detective Franklin turned down one and led us to a house with a faded red door. One of the ladies, who had sat with Lorraine during the service, answered our knock.

  “Please come in. I’m Mrs. Combs. I live just next door. I saw you at the funeral. Are you friends of Lorraine?”

  Detective Franklin introduced himself and his partner and explained that they were involved in the investigation into Marcia’s murder.

  When she looked at me I said, “I worked with Marcia in Las Vegas. Detective Delgado is part of the Las Vegas investigation.”

  Nodding, she led us into a small living room/dining room combination. I could see a door to a kitchen at the back of the house. I assumed that the bedrooms were upstairs.

  She said, “Help yourselves to the buffet,” waving her hand to indicate several casserole dishes set out on the dining room table. The room was so small that it actually seemed crowded. “The drinks are in the kitchen. What can I bring you?”

  Everyone wanted a Coke. I followed her back to the kitchen to help with the drinks. Delgado and the two detectives went to pay their respects to Lorraine.

  Mrs. Combs had to be at least eighty. She looked like I pictured Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple, short and thin with white hair and twinkling blue eyes.

  “How long have you known the La Salles?” I asked.

  Her voice was slightly raspy, but she enunciated every word perfectly. “I remember when they moved in. Marcia was only about six. I used to watch her for Lorraine until she got home from work, and again if she went out in the evenings. Marcia was the prettiest little thing, and smart as a whip. Even though Joey was two years older, she almost always beat him at any game they played.”

  “Was Joey your son?”

  “Oh my no. My children were grown. Joey Green lived next door, but he spent most of his time with me. His mother had a succession of ‘uncles.’” I had to stop myself from laughing when she put air quotation marks around the word before going on. “They moved in for a few months at a time. I don’t know whether Dina sent Joey over here regularly to get him out of the house, or whether he came on his own just to get away. I felt sorry for him. I tried to make sure he knew he was always welcome. Marcia and Joey became inseparable, until the night that Joey ran away.” She set five plastic glasses on the counter.

  Filling them with ice from a bowl sitting in the sink, I asked, “When did that happen?”

  She stopped pouring the Coke to answer. “Let me see. Joey had just turned sixteen. I remember because Dina had promised to take him to get his driver’s license right after school. She’d been drinking and they got into a fight. The man she was living with at the time stepped in, and beat up Joey.” She sighed. “It wasn’t the first time Joey showed up with a black eye and a split lip, but it would be the last time. He took Marcia aside. They talked for while. I found out later, he told her he couldn’t take it anymore. He was leaving. Marcia’s birthday was only a few days after Joeys. Before he left, he wanted to give her the birthday present he’d brought for her, a pretty, pink diary with a heart lock and key.

  “After he left Marcia was devastated. She cried for days. She carried that diary with her everywhere, and wrote in it every day from then on. On her birthday the next year, a new one appeared on her doorstep. I always believed Joey kept in touch with Marcia, but I never saw him again, not even when his mother died a couple of years later.”

  “I understand Marcia left when she was sixteen as well.”

  “Yes, but at least Marcia kept in touch now and then. For the first couple of years, she would drop by occasionally, when she knew her mother was out. Eventually she stopped coming as well.” Mrs. Combs picked up two of the glasses and I followed her out with the other three. I looked for Dee.

  When I’d left for the kitchen, Dee headed over to talk to the other Royal employees. Now they were all lined up at the buffet table, but she wasn‘t with them. Looking around, I spotted her standing in a corner talking to Detective Franklin and Detective Rowe. I walked over and handed them each a drink. Then I went to rescue Delgado. Lorraine had him literally cornered at one end of the room. Mrs. Combs and I got to them at the same time. She handed Delgado a drink, while I distracted Lorraine.

  “Hi. I’m Valerie Peterson. I worked with Marcia in Las Vegas. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  It must have reminded her she was supposed to be grieving. She took out a damp handkerchief, and held out a limp hand. “Thank you. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  “Mrs. Combs told me that Marcia kept diaries. That must be a comfort to you.”

  “Yes, she was always writing in one. She kept them locked up and hidden. They were one of the few things she took with her when she left. I guess she must have grown out of it though, because there were no diaries in the stuff from her apartment.” There was no real concern in her voice. She turned away from me to survey the room. Probably looking for Delgado, who had slipped away while we were talking.

  I looked around too, but I didn’t see him or the other detectives. I stepped back when more people came up to express their sympathy. I watched Lorraine take on the role of grieving mother once more, as she dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief.

  Looking out the window, I caught a glimpse of Delgado talking to the other detectives outside, so I sought out Dee to tell her goodbye. She said she’d walk out with me. I waited by the door until she said goodbye to Lorraine, and then we joined the detectives on the sidewalk. I noticed that Detective Franklin’s face lit up when he caught sight of Dee. Glancing down at his left hand to see that there was no wedding band, I invited all them to join us for dinner. Detective Rowe begged off, saying he‘d promised his wife he would be home early. Both Dee and Detective Franklin accepted. When we got back to the cars, Dee suggested a nearby Italian restaurant. She led the way in her car. Detective Franklin, known as Frank to his friends he told me, rode with us.

  The restaurant, part of an upscale chain, wasn’t busy so we were able to get a table immediately. Our waiter, Chad, wrote his name upside down in crayon on the paper tablecloth. Dee and Frank said yes to a glass of Chianti from the bottle the waiter held in his hand. Delgado and I declined the wine. I‘d had enough caffeine, so instead of my usual diet Coke, I stuck with water. Delgado ordered a Coke. We chatted until Chad came back with our drinks.

  After we ordered dinner, I told them the story that Mrs. Combs had shared with me.

  “Did the police find any diaries at Monica’s apartment?” I asked Delgado. He shook his head. “If Monica was still writing everything down in a diary, then couldn’t
that be what the searchers were looking for?”

  The Las Vegas police had briefed Frank’s department, but Dee hadn’t heard about my break-in or the ransacking of Monica’s apartment and office, so we took a moment to bring her up to speed.

  Frank went on to tell her about the slashing of my brake lines as well. He took a small pad out of his pocket and made a note to check out the name Joey Green.

  Delgado said, “I was surprised to see the ex-husband at the funeral.”

  Frank explained, “We allowed Jimmy to come to the funeral to identify any past friends or acquaintances who showed up. The only one he recognized was the cocktail waitress, Connie.”

  Once Chad delivered our food, we made a conscious effort to avoid talking about the case. Frank was into movie trivia. He started quoting famous lines from movies while we tried to guess the title of the movie.

  His first one was, “You know how to whistle don’t you Steve?”

  “You just put your lips together and blow,” we all chimed in finishing the quote with him.

  Frank was undaunted. “Correct. But what movie was it from?”

  “It was with Humphrey Bogart and Loren Bacall,” I offered.

  “And the title of the movie?” he persisted.

  I could see the scene in my head, but for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you the name of the movie. Dee looked stumped as well.

  Delgado just sat there looking smug. Finally, when no one else answered, he said, “To Have and Have Not.”

  “Right.” Frank gave him one air point. “How about this one? ‘ You’re gonna need a bigger boat.’”

  Dee got in first, “Jaws. I have one for you. ‘Well, a boy’s best friend is his mother.’”

  Frank and Delgado answered at the same time. “Psycho”

  Delgado was next up. “What we got here is a failure to communicate,”