Eleven
I chewed over what I’d just learned as I walked back to my car. The nagging feeling that I’d missed something just wouldn’t leave me alone. But for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was. I was so deep in thought, I didn’t see the man leaning against my Mercedes until I was only a few feet away—too close to pretend I had somewhere else to go and walk the other way.
Winslow was just as rumpled as he’d been earlier. I’d bet everything I owned that he lived out of laundry baskets heaped with clean clothes he was too busy (read: lazy) to fold and put away. This evening his tie had some kind of stain on it and a toothpick dangled out of his mouth, adding to the middle-aged bachelor look he was trying to pull off.
He pushed off the car and grinned as I approached. “Well, well, well. I wish I could say that I was surprised to see you here, but I can’t. Paying a visit to the boyfriend?”
I fought the urge to pay a visit to his face with the palm of my hand. However, knowing how the police feel about assault upon one of their own, I managed to control myself.
“No.” I walked past him so I could get to the driver’s side door. “I came to offer my condolences to the family.”
“Really? Well, isn’t that nice?” He came around the front of the car, beating me to the door and blocking it. He took a few minutes to get the toothpick in a new position. “I’m sure they all appreciate your concern. Do they know you were supplying Destiny with drugs?”
“Someone certainly tried to make them think I was,” I said, remembering what Scotty had said earlier. And for what must have been the twentieth time: “For the record, I was not supplying her with anything. I barely even knew her. I found her body. I checked her for a pulse. I called 911. That’s it.” I waited impatiently for him to move out of my way.
He didn’t budge, except to lean against the car again.
“Don’t scratch it,” I warned sullenly. “NOPD might not appreciate a bill for a new paint job.”
“What I don’t understand,” he said, ignoring my warning, “is what you see in Moose Hazen. If I were a betting man, I’d put money on the notion that he’s not your type.”
That was the first thing Winslow had ever said I could agree with. “He’s not, but he seems like a genuinely nice guy and he’s grieving. I feel awful for him.”
Winslow resituated the toothpick one more time. “Feeling guilty?”
“Of course not. Tell me, Detective, have you even considered the fact that someone tried to run me down on Monday night and then Destiny may have died after taking pills that were meant for me? If she hadn’t stolen them, I might be lying in the morgue right now instead of her.”
He rolled his eyes in my direction. “I’ll keep that in mind. And who do you think tampered with the pills? Should I be dragging the pharmacist in for questioning?”
I thought about Sebastian with his big, open face and friendly smile and realized how foolish my idea sounded. “No, but Moose was there with me the night the van almost ran us down. He was the one who should have opened the shop instead of Destiny this morning. Maybe somebody’s after him.”
Winslow gave me the stink-eye, which wasn’t all that different from his usual expression. “Why would this fictitious somebody want to kill Moose? And why would this imaginary someone use thirty of your pain pills to do it?”
“That’s how many there were?” I asked.
“Assuming you were telling the truth about not taking any yourself. I checked with the pharmacist this afternoon. So? Tell me . . . what do you imagine the motive to be for these attacks on Mr. Hazen?”
“There could be any number of reasons,” I said. “Like a customer with a grudge. Or somebody who wanted Destiny for himself.” Maybe I should have also mentioned Keon and Aquanettia, but I didn’t. Aquanettia was a hardworking single mother doing her best to raise those boys on her own. I wanted to clear my own name, but I couldn’t throw her or her sons under the bus without a good reason. Keon might be a troubled kid, but was he troubled enough to try killing a neighboring businessman? I’d need more than speculation to shatter Aquanettia’s world.
Winslow didn’t seem to notice that I was holding back. He just pushed off the car and pulled the toothpick from his mouth so he could point at me with it. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Ms. Lucero, but I’m warning you to stop. One of my confidential informants is dead, and I’m not happy about that. If you think I’m just going to write this off, you’re sorely mistaken. And if I can gather enough evidence to prove it, I’ll charge you in her death. This isn’t a tea party, lady. I’m going to advise you to stop snooping around and attempting to influence witnesses. There’s a name for that. It’s called witness tampering.”
Was he kidding? I looked into his eyes hoping to find a glimmer of amusement, but all I could see was steely determination and a pinch of disgust.
“I wasn’t tampering with anything,” I protested. I wanted to sound strong and confident but it came out sounding whiny and scared to death. “I came to pay my condolences. It’s a social courtesy.”
“Yeah? And that’s important to you?”
His question made me nervous, but I nodded and tried to put a little starch in my voice. “Yes it is. I was raised to have manners.”
“I see. Then maybe you can tell me where sleeping with another woman’s husband falls in the social courtesy arena.”
He was really starting to annoy me. “I. Am. Not. Sleeping. With. Moose. Hazen.” I spoke slowly and clearly, and I used small words that he could understand. “I am not, in fact, sleeping with anybody.”
Oops. TMI. I could have held back that last part. But nothing gets me angry faster than being accused of something I haven’t done. “Now would you please move out of the way?” I said. “I’m tired and I hurt all over, and I just want to go home.”
Winslow moved, but he took his sweet time doing it. I wrenched open the car door and got inside, but he grabbed it before I could close it. Leaning both arms on the top of the window, he looked down at me with a smirk. “Be careful, Ms. Lucero. I’m watching you.”
• • •
I sat there for a while after he walked away. My hands were shaking so badly I didn’t dare drive. Was I seriously considered a suspect in Destiny’s death, or was Winslow just jerking my chain? Did he seriously think I was dealing prescription drugs out of Zydeco? If I were, why would I use my own prescription to do it?
After a long time I finally calmed down enough to drive away and I made a solemn vow that the next time I had to talk to Aaron Winslow, I’d point out a few of the flaws in his theory. Beginning with the complete lack of logic.
I had a rib eye and a potato I’d intended to bake twice and fully load waiting for me at home, but I was already exhausted and the thought of cooking and waiting to eat held no appeal. I decided to pull into a fast-food drive-through instead. I ordered a portabella mushroom burger with fries and, in a moment of weakness, deep-fried cheesecake bites with strawberry dipping sauce. And a Coke. Diet. To balance out the calories from the rest of the meal.
Two blocks from the drive-through, the smell of food began to get to me. I pulled into the parking lot of a supermarket and dug in. The burger was greasy but delicious, the fries perfectly crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. The cheesecake bites were a whole ’nother story. Not only had they spent too much time in the deep fryer, I would testify under oath that no actual strawberries were harmed in the making of that sauce.
Already regretting my decision to forgo the rib eye, I tossed my trash and pulled back onto the street. I was just wondering if the day could get any worse when my phone rang. I answered and found out that, yes, the day could indeed get worse.
“What did you say to Miss Frankie?!” Edie shrilled when she heard my voice.
“What do you mean, what did I say? What are you even talking about?”
“My baby shower? Does that ring any bells?”
Uh-oh. “Um . . . yeah. Listen. About th
at . . .”
“She just called here asking for my parents’ address. My parents, Rita. You know we’re not on speaking terms. And why is she planning my baby shower anyway?”
“Long story,” I said. What with finding Destiny and all, the whole baby shower/Pearl Lee exchange had slipped right out of my mind. Now I also remembered that cousin Pearl would be showing up for work the next morning and I was nowhere near ready for her. But right now, I needed to calm Edie down so she wouldn’t go into premature labor.
I had the feeling I’d need all my concentration for this conversation so I pulled off the road again. “I swear, I told Miss Frankie not to invite your family. I said it several times, but you know how she is. Once she gets an idea, she doesn’t let go.” Ever.
“You’d better convince her to let it go this time,” Edie warned. “I am not going to let my mother ruin this for me.”
“I’ll talk to her,” I promised. “I’ll make it very clear that you don’t want your mother and sister there.”
Edie sighed heavily into the phone. “It’s not that I don’t want them,” she said. “They don’t want me, and they won’t accept this baby. They’ve made that perfectly clear.”
She sounded a little calmer, which I took as a good sign. “They’re upset,” I said. “Finding out about the baby was a shock.”
“Don’t you dare take their side,” Edie warned. “I need somebody on mine.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said quickly. “Of course I’m on your side. I hope you know that.”
“Maybe. All I know for sure is that you’re weirded out about the pregnancy.”
I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. I’d tried so hard not to let any of the issues caused by my own failure to reproduce show around Edie, but she must have picked up on something. “I’m not weirded out,” I said. I wanted to tuck what I was feeling into a hole and never look at it again, but I could hear the pain and fear beneath Edie’s anger, so I decided to be honest with her. “I think I might be jealous.”
I heard Edie’s quick intake of breath, followed by, “Of what?”
“You. The baby. The pregnancy.”
Edie actually laughed, and then she blew her nose. “Well, don’t feel too bad about the pregnancy. So far, it’s not as fun as people try to make it sound. You really don’t want the morning sickness.” She fell silent for a moment and then said, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come down on you so hard, but getting that call from Miss Frankie really threw me for a loop.”
“I should have warned you she was working on the baby shower,” I said. “I should have known she’d do whatever she wanted.”
Edie blew her nose again and hiccupped softly. “It’s okay. It’s just that this whole thing is such a mess. I know I screwed up. I’m thirty-five years old and pregnant, my mom isn’t speaking to me, my dad just tells me to talk to my priest, and my sister won’t even return my phone calls. I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation, and not doing a very good job of it.”
Edie doesn’t show vulnerability often, so being on the receiving end of her confidences made me squirm a little. I haven’t had a close friend since high school and my girl talk skills are a little rusty. I asked myself what Aunt Yolanda would have said and then I tried that. “You didn’t screw up. Maybe this isn’t what you planned, but it doesn’t have to ruin your life.”
“Oh, yes it does. Just ask my mother. The only way I can make her happy is to marry the baby’s father and become respectable. Can you imagine? She acts like it’s 1950 or something. Well, that’s not going to happen. Not in this lifetime.”
Usually Edie avoided any mention of the baby’s father, which, of course, made us all wildly curious. I wasn’t convinced that Aunt Yolanda would go there, but in the interest of community spirit, I threw caution to the wind. “Have the two of you discussed marriage at all?”
“He doesn’t even know about the baby. I haven’t told him.”
That surprised me. I said, “Oh,” in what I hoped was a tone she couldn’t read anything into.
“Don’t you dare say that I need to tell him either. That’s completely out of the question.”
I couldn’t help it. My mind jumped to a conclusion I didn’t like. I blame Winslow for putting the whole idea of cheating into my head. “Why is that? Is he married or something?”
“No! At least, I don’t think he is. But that’s probably what my mother thinks.”
I chose my next words carefully. “Well, even if he is, don’t you think he’d want to know?”
Edie sniffed loudly. “He might. I don’t know. But I can’t tell him if I don’t know where to find him.”
“What does that mean? Did he run out on you?”
“Not exactly.” She fell silent again and the only sound I could hear was the tap-tap of her feet as she walked the floor. “He didn’t run out on me,” she said after a long time. “He’s in Afghanistan.”
Okay. Wow. That put a whole new spin on things. “He’s in the military?”
“No. He’s a private contractor of some kind. The fact is, I don’t even really know him. We met at the Dizzy Duke one night. The rest of you had gone home, and I was there by myself. And then, all of a sudden, there he was. He just sort of swept me off my feet.”
It was hard to imagine Edie being swept anywhere, and I felt a ping of curiosity about the guy who had actually done it. “Really? You never said anything.” At least not to me and, unless someone at Zydeco was lying, not to anyone else there.
“I’m not the one-night-stand type—you know that. But it was the night my sister got engaged and I was feeling pretty lousy. It’s not that I’m not happy for her. I just always thought I’d find someone first. I’m thirty-five and single, and she’s not even thirty yet and she’s got this great guy . . . So my great guy bought me a drink, and we talked for a while. He was just so different and so kind, and he was heading off into enemy territory the next day . . . I never expected this to happen.”
If he was that great, he really did deserve to know about the baby, I thought. “You don’t even have an address where you can write to him?”
“I wish it was that simple. I don’t even have a name.”
I managed to get out another surprised, “Oh.”
“Yeah. Right?” Edie stopped walking. “So there it is. My dirty little secret. I really don’t want the others to know about this, okay? And my mother can never know the truth. Not speaking to me would be mild compared to what she’d do if she knew the father was a complete stranger. Can we just keep it between the two of us?”
“Absolutely,” I said. But this changed things in a big way. Edie was more alone than I’d originally thought. She needed us far more than I’d realized. Under the circumstances, I had to make sure Miss Frankie minded her own business. And that wasn’t going to be easy.
Twelve
After my encounter with Detective Winslow and my conversation with Edie, I had trouble settling down. I was too tired to talk to Miss Frankie and come out on top. And maybe I just needed a little TLC of my own. I changed into sweats and a tank top, rescued Cherry Garcia from the freezer, and settled down in front of the TV to watch that episode of Castle.
My mind kept drifting back to Destiny’s murder and forward to babysitting cousin Pearl Lee so Miss Frankie could magically turn her into a functioning member of society. It sounded like that ought to be a piece of cake. My thoughts were so scattered, I grabbed a pen and paper and tried to organize a few of them. I couldn’t put Pearl Lee to work on an actual cake, but there were dozens of small tasks I could assign her that would keep her busy and help the rest of the staff.
I made a long list of odd jobs, ranging from “put together cake boxes” to “help Edie with filing.” Feeling pleased with myself for getting the Pearl Lee situation under control, I turned to a clean sheet of paper and started three new lists. I labeled one “People Who Might Have Supplied Destiny with Drugs”; the second, “People Who Might Have Wanted to
Hurt Moose”; and the third, “People Angry at Me.”
I put Detective Winslow at the top of my list, just because I could. I figured turnabout was fair play. If he could suspect me for no good reason, I could do the same for him. Then I added him to Destiny’s list, too. Maybe he was a dirty cop. Maybe he gave Destiny a fatal overdose to keep her from ratting him out.
Keon Fisher went on Moose’s list. I had no idea whether he actually had a motive for trying to run Moose down, but I remembered Destiny telling me that she thought Keon was driving the van. If that was true, there must have been something going on that Moose had neglected to mention.
I put Felix Blackwater’s name in Destiny’s column followed by a question mark. There was no doubt in my mind that Destiny’s loosey-goosey attitude about the alliance had annoyed him, and he’d been furious about her decision to run in the election, but I couldn’t picture Felix as a drug dealer.
I added Moose and Scotty to Destiny’s list as well. I didn’t seriously think that either of them had a reason to want her out of the way. They’d both seemed grief-stricken. But I knew now that Moose had a temper. If he’d found out that Destiny was using again or that she was fooling around on him, he could have snapped. He could have easily doctored any pills he found in her possession.
Scotty was another story entirely. By his own account, his relationship with Destiny had been a troubled one. I got the feeling that Moose liked having Scotty around more than Destiny had. And there was no denying that Scotty been upset by the suggestion that her latest stint in rehab hadn’t been successful. How many times had she gone for help? How many times had she failed? How many failed attempts to get it right could Scotty take? He and Moose had both known that Destiny would be at the Chopper Shop alone that morning.
The Cakes of Wrath (A Piece of Cake Mystery) Page 10
