1 Murder for Bid

by Susan Furlong-Bolliger

  I hung out until the line of people waiting to pay their respects had dwindled and small groups of well-wishers were dispersing around the room, huddling together in small intimate groups. Schmidt remained by the casket with a few friends. Pretending to read a memorial card, I kept my ears peeled for any unusual conversational exchanges. After a while, I heard a familiar voice and looked up to see that Sheila and her husband were now standing with Schmidt. Sheila looked amazing as always, her diamond laced fingers planted securely on her rich hubby’s arm.

  “Richard, we’re here for you if you need anything, anything at all,” Sheila cooed.

  “Thank you. It’s wonderful to have such good friends at a time like this.”

  I continued to watch as Judge Reiner and his wife approached the group. Madeline Reiner closed the distance quickly and embraced Schmidt in a warm hug. After the hug, she kept her arm wrapped tightly around his waist as if to keep him from falling over.

  “Amanda was a wonderful woman. We’re all going to miss her,” Madeline said.

  “She was,” Sheila agreed. “She was involved in everything and so dedicated to her community. I’m not sure what we’ll do without her.”

  Schmidt heaved a heavy sigh, nodding his head.

  “You poor man,” Madeline soothed, rubbing comforting circles on the small of his back. I watched intently, noting with interest Madeline Reiner’s familiarity with Schmidt. Seeing them together confirmed my suspicions about another woman, and that woman was Madeline Reiner. The whole scenario was becoming clear: Madeline Reiner and Schmidt carried on an affair for years. Amanda discovers their relationship. She asks for a divorce and threatens exposure. Schmidt realizes that the political fallout will be enormous, the future Mayor of Naperville and a judge’s wife. My, my, my...

  “Any new leads on finding the scum bag that did this?” Judge Reiner was asking Schmidt.

  “No.”

  “What about that homeless woman?” Madeline asked. Sheila’s well-waxed brow shot up. I held my breath.

  “That’s no longer a viable lead,” Schmidt explained.

  I let out a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t told his cronies all about Sean Panelli’s crazy girlfriend and Sheila seemed to remain tight-lipped.

  “But,” Schmidt continued. “I can’t help thinking that if I hadn’t gone back into the office … if I had just stayed home, Amanda would still be here.”

  He leaned into Madeline, who continued rubbing his back, stroking away his guilt. “Now, you can’t talk that way, Richard. None of this is your fault.”

  What a cunning man, I thought. How could anyone beat someone to death, then go back to work, and act as if everything was normal?

  Madeline suddenly stopped rubbing, her focus shifting across the room. I glanced in that direction and caught sight of Greg Davis approaching. The sight of him, wearing a black suit tailored to fit perfectly to his body, caused my heart to beat just a bit faster.

  “Thank you, Greg,” Schmidt was saying after Greg grasped his hand warmly and whispered his condolences. “I know how busy you are, Amanda would like it that you’re here today.”

  “That’s right, Greg.” Sheila perked up in his presence. “Amanda sang your praises wherever she went. I hope you realize that she was personally responsible for at least fifty percent of your referrals.”

  “Well, what I do know was that she was one of the easiest to please clients that I’ve ever worked with. Designing and constructing your home was truly a pleasure, Richard. I only wish that you and Amanda were able to make more happy memories there.”

  “Yes, Amanda did love our house. She had so many plans for decorating…”

  Schmidt’s voice trailed off and suddenly I noticed that he was looking straight at me with a mixed expression of curiosity and confusion, as if he were trying to place my face. Soon, the entire group was studying me. Sheila’s eyes registered instant recognition.

  Knowing that Sheila was about to expose my identity, I made a beeline for the door. As I zigzagged through clusters of mourners, I could hear Sheila excusing herself from the group, no doubt in hot pursuit.

  I had just cleared the back entrance when Sheila grabbed my arm and spun me around. “Unbelievable, even for you Phillipena O’Brien. The nerve! How could you intrude on someone’s vulnerability like this? The man’s burying his wife today!”

  “Take it easy, Sheila.” Greg Davis’s voice carried quiet authority as he approached us. “I’m sure Ms. O’Brien didn’t intend to upset Richard.” His charming smile quickly dispersed Sheila’s rage, turning her into a pussycat.

  She ran her hand through her blond bob and smile tightly. “I just feel protective of Richard. That’s understandable, isn’t it? With all that he’s been through,” she purred.

  “Of course, Sheila, I know you just want to protect him. Richard’s lucky to have a friend like you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder.

  Sheila practically melted under his touch. I was feeling pretty gooey myself.

  “Why don’t you go back in and join Richard. He needs his friends at a time like this,” Greg suggested.

  “Yes, you’re right. I’ll head back in.” Sheila threw me a murderously evil eye and turned back to Greg, resting her hand on his sleeve. “Thanks, Greg,” she cooed, rubbing her hand up and down his arm a couple of times before turning to leave.

  I shrugged. I had no idea what she was thanking him for, but I was glad she was leaving. Sheila could be difficult to contend with sometimes.

  Once alone with Greg, I removed the black hat and wig, dug out a few hairpins, and released my red curls, allowing them to fall softly over my shoulders. I had seen many a leading lady do this in the movies and I hoped that I was accomplishing the same smoldering sex appeal.

  “Thanks for rescuing me, Greg,” I said, running my fingertips through my hair. “This seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I feel quite foolish.” Quite foolish? I never said things like ‘quite foolish.’

  Greg looked down at me with his sexy eyes and for some reason I felt compelled to explain myself further. “You see, I’ve been conducting a private investigation into Amanda’s murder. I’m just about positive that Richard Schmidt killed his wife.”

  Greg blinked but said nothing.

  “He was having an affair, you know,” I added, as if that explained everything.

  “No, I didn’t know. With whom?”

  Wow! Good looking and proper grammar, too. My mother would love this guy. “Madeline Reiner,” I stated, matter-of-factly.

  I detected a slight smirk from Greg. It was the same type of smirk that I often see on Sean’s face right before he breaks into a full rolling hysterics over one of my ‘brilliant’ observations. Why did I bother?

  “Fine. I can see that you don’t believe me.” I turned to leave, but he placed a hand on my shoulder, sending tiny warm prickles all the way down to my toes. My hormones were running amuck and I was ticked that my body could so easily betray my mind. I knew better than to confide in someone I barely knew, but commiserating with Greg seemed so appealing. Actually, doing a lot of things with Greg seemed appealing.

  “Hey, don’t run off. I’m interested in what you have to say.”

  “Really?” That was a switch. Sean was never interested in what I had to say.

  “Yes, really. Tell me what you’ve discovered,” he said, smiling down at me seductively. Or, maybe it was just his usual smile, but I was wishing it was seductive.

  Anyway, whatever the smile, all my reservations melted away and I quickly relayed my suspicions concerning Richard Schmidt. When I finished, I was relieved to see that he was no longer smirking or smiling; instead, he was regarding me quite seriously.

  “You know, Phillipena, I think you may be on to something. I’ve been golfing with Richard from time to time this past year and I’ve seen a change in him.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. Lately he’s seemed particularly stressed. I don’t think it was career induced
either. He hinted that there was a problem in his marriage.”

  “I knew it,” I said triumphantly.

  “Then there was the day that Amanda was killed…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I hate to say. It’s just speculation.”

  He hesitated, his gaze focused downward. I could tell he didn’t want to tell on his friend. For some reason, his loyalty made him seem vulnerable. I resisted an intense urge to reach out and comfort him.

  “I understand that Richard is your friend, but if you know something you should tell me. It may be important to the case.”

  He met my eyes, and once again I was caught off guard by his striking good looks. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but I was golfing with Richard that day. We’ve been getting together more often lately because Richard was taking the high road on a building moratorium that the city wants to enforce along the boundaries of the historic areas downtown.”

  “I understand.” Blah, blah, blah. City politics were soooo boring. I was anxious for him to get to the point.

  “Anyway, he seemed … well … I don’t know. I guess I would say that he seemed agitated that day. I thought at first it had to do with our disagreement on the moratorium, but now looking back on it, I think it really had something to do with Amanda.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “He had a call while we were on the fifth and I’m pretty sure it was her.”

  This was more information than I had hoped to get. I could hardly wait to tell Sean. “Did you hear any part of the conversation?” I asked.

  “No, not really. I just assumed it was her by the tone of his voice. Things became quite heated. After the call, his mind wasn’t much on the game.”

  That’s funny; I thought Jason, the caddy, had said that he had a great game that day. I held my thoughts, though, not wanting to detour Greg’s story.

  “I’m sure it was her on the phone,” he reiterated.

  “Just as I thought,” I piped up. “She’d probably discovered the affair and was calling him out on it. I think he left the club angry and went home to confront her. They must have had an argument and he lost his temper. I’m pretty sure he used one of his clubs to do it.”

  “No!” Greg gasped. “That’s really hard to believe. I’ve known Richard for a long time and I just don’t think he’s capable. I mean an affair, maybe; but murder, there’s no way he did it.”

  “Yes, but people do unthinkable things when it comes to love,” I said, in my most sage-like voice. “My theory is that he beat her to death with the club and then removed her jewels to make it look like a robbery. He then put her body in the hot tub to buy time while he cleaned himself and disposed of the murder weapon and jewels. They’re probably somewhere near the murder scene. Maybe buried in the back yard or hidden in a secret panel in one of the house’s walls. They’re definitely not in his shed,” I added, wishing I hadn’t.

  Greg squinted, but thankfully didn’t ask me to explain. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really seem possible.”

  “Did your building plans call for any secret compartments in the home?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean that they didn’t have one constructed later on.”

  “Sure, that could be it. More than likely, he put it somewhere outside. I just can’t figure out where. If he had buried it, there would be evidence of freshly turned soil.”

  “You know, I’m not sure I’m buying this theory about Richard. You don’t know him the way I do. He’s just not the murdering type. Besides, the press is saying that Amanda got in the way of an intruder. Whoever that was, could have dumped the murder weapon anywhere. It could be out in the middle of Lake Michigan for all we know.”

  “Maybe so. Although, usually in crimes like these, the first suspect is always the husband. Or, in this case, it could also have been Richard’s mistress.”

  “You think that Madeline Reiner is that woman?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Greg shrugged.

  “Anyway,” I continued. “If it was Richard or Madeline, and my bet’s on Richard, the police will be able to pin it on him with the trace evidence.”

  “Trace evidence?” Greg looked confused.

  “Don’t you ever watch CSI? Trace evidence, you know, minute particles of blood and stuff like that. Richard Schmidt is a smart man. He knew that if he put the murder weapon in his car to dump, it would have left behind trace evidence. What if his car was searched? No,” I chortled, “he’s too clever for that.”

  “I like the way you think, Phillipena. I’m just not convinced that Richard could have done such a horrible thing.”

  “How about Madeline?”

  He shook his head. “These people are my friends. I can’t imagine any of them doing such a thing.”

  “Well, I hope I’m wrong,” I said, trying to find a middle ground.

  “Me too,” he agreed. “Well, I better get back inside. It’s been a pleasure talking to you.” He reached over and touched my arm. My stomach flipped.

  “You’ve been really helpful, Greg,” I stammered. “Maybe, if I think of some more questions, I could call you?”

  “Certainly,” his smile broadened. I noticed how perfect his teeth were—white and straight. He could do toothpaste commercials.

  I flashed my pearly whites right back. “Or maybe, you could call me sometime,” I said, flirting guiltlessly.

  “I might do that, Phillipena,” he said with a wink before heading back inside. I shuddered. The way he said my name sent electric tingles up and down my spine, and other places. I scolded myself. I needed to get my hormones in check. Guys like Greg Davis could have any woman they wanted. Besides, I already had a boyfriend … a loyal boyfriend that was willing to put up with my quirks. What more could I ask for?

  Chapter Five

  Early that evening, I was crashed on my sofa, trying to soothe my churning emotions with a pint of ice cream, when the phone rang. It was Sean. After a day of flirting and fantasizing about Greg, his voice brought on a case of the guilts.

  I could tell from the terseness in his voice that he was still hot about yesterday’s shed incident. More than likely, he was receiving flak from the guys at work. All that would stop though, once I found the murder weapon and proved Schmidt’s guilt.

  “You wouldn’t have happened to be at the funeral home today, would you?” he asked, cutting to the chase after we had exchanged a bit of strained small talk.

  I bolted upright. “Why?”

  “I had a couple of undercover guys there. They reported that there was a woman there that looked like a stocky version of Jacqueline Kennedy. Apparently she created quite the scene.”

  “You think that was me?” I resented being called stocky.

  “Cut it out, Pip. Why were you there? I thought we agreed that you were going to stay out of this.”

  “Last time I checked, it wasn’t illegal to attend a funeral.” I cringed. My rhetoric sounded juvenile, even to me.

  “No, but it is a crime to interfere with a police investigation,” he countered. “Besides, what did you and Greg Davis need to talk about anyway?”

  Wow, his guys were good. I hadn’t even noticed them watching me. I wondered if they reported that I was flirting with Greg? Was it obvious? I thought back to my hair tousling and the way I practically melted under his gaze. Hesitantly I replied, “We were just visiting.”

  “For twenty minutes?” I tried to decipher his tone. Was I detecting a hint of jealousy?

  “I told Greg a couple of my ideas concerning Amanda’s murder, and he thought they were valid.”

  “Which ideas?”

  “The murder weapon … and other stuff.” I cringed. Now that I thought back, I realized that I may have confided a little too much in Greg.

  “The murder weapon?”

  “I told you that he used a golf club.”

  “We don’t know that for sure. You can’t just go around claiming things that you don’t have any eviden
ce of, Pippi.”

  “I’ll get evidence.”

  “What do you mean?” His voice raised an octave higher.

  “I’ve been checking a little more into Richard Schmidt and trying to figure out the identity of his mistress.”

  “But, you have no real proof that he was actually having an affair, right?”

  “Well … no. I just think you need to look closer at his love life. It’s obvious that something was going on. Greg even said that Schmidt had a call from Amanda when they were out on the course that morning. He said that they got into an argument. So … don’t you see?”

  “See what?”

  I sighed, “They were arguing because Amanda found out about the other woman. She was cleaning out the closets and found the shirt. You remember the shirt, don’t you? The one with the lipstick stain?”

  I heard a long, drawn out sigh on the other end. “All this doesn’t prove anything,” he said.

  “It all points to motive. An exposed affair could have been strong enough motive for him to commit murder, or another possibility could be that his lover killed Amanda in a fit of jealousy. Amanda probably had it out with Richard, hung up, and immediately called the ‘other woman.’ That’s what I would do. Either way, you should be checking into Schmidt’s love life.”

  “And, I suppose you have an idea of who his lover might be,” he said, his tone facetious.

  “Madeline Reiner,” I spat out.

  Sean’s reply came over the phone loud and clear. “The judge’s wife?”

  “Yes,” I replied, with a little less conviction. “At least she’s a good possibility. I could be wrong, but I doubt it. You’d probably be thinking the same thing if you’d seen how she acted with him at the funeral. She couldn’t keep her hands off him even in front of her husband, the judge. I can only imagine what she does when she and Schmidt are actually alone.”

  “No, no, no … don’t go there. Leave the Reiners completely out of this.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Just don’t get involved with them. There’s been a new development that you don’t know about. You could get yourself into a lot of trouble if you go around asking questions about the Reiners, not to mention that you could seriously hinder my case. You didn’t tell Greg Davis that you thought Madeline Reiner might have killed Amanda, did you?”