Gavin shook his head. "Lawyers are as bad as doctors these days — each has his own specialty. West only does entertainment law. He said he wouldn't touch anything as mundane as a will, his words exactly."
Marissa squinted at the officer. "Why don't you question that sleazeball some more? He's a more likely suspect than poor Sam Munson."
"He doesn't smoke." Even as the words left his mouth, Gavin turned red and closed his eyes. Marissa could see his chest move as he took several deep breaths.
Marissa stood up to her full 5'8". "Smoke? What precisely does smoking have to do with anything?"
Gavin looked around, pausing to notice Bandarra standing about twenty yards away with Ellen Perrino. "I'm such an idiot. Since I've already blown it, I might as well tell you it all. Steve died from nicotine poisoning. The coroner wasn't sure how it got into his system, but he's sure nicotine killed him. That's why we tied the crimes together when you were attacked yesterday. You said that your attacker smelled like cigarette smoke and cologne."
"So how do you get nicotine poisoning? Smoke too many cigarettes in a hurry?" Marissa whispered, leaning closer to the policeman.
Gavin assumed the attitude of a teacher with a not too bright child. Marissa stepped back about a foot. Condescension was not her favorite attitude. "Fortunately, the public doesn't know about this, but you can get a solution of nicotine by soaking cigarettes in water and distilling it. A little bit of nicotine goes a long way in killing someone. Depending on whether it's taken orally or applied to the skin, nicotine can kill a person in anywhere from five minutes to four hours. With Steve, it took about two and a half hours, assuming oral ingestion."
"So you think a smoker did this? Why couldn't a non-smoker just buy a pack and soak them?"
Gavin gazed down at her and smiled. Marissa had an urge to wipe the smile from his face. "That's where psychology comes in. A smoker would be more likely to think of killing his enemy with nicotine than someone who wasn't around cigarettes all the time."
"There can't be very many smokers here. This is a smoke-free building. They all have to go outside and huddle over the ashcans like panhandlers. It's almost sad to watch them indulge their vice."
Gavin laughed. "We've only come up with five of them. Two women and three men."
"The women we can scratch because I was definitely attacked by a man." Could a large woman have tried to strangle her? The natural assumption screamed male aggressor. Marissa let her hand stray to her neck and touch the bruises. "Who besides Ellen smokes? Oh, Louise does." Marissa remembered the woman's yellow-stained fingers typing.
"Right. Can you guess the men? This way I can tell Bandarra that I didn't tell you all this information."
"Yeah. We'd hate to offend the Cro-Magnon police sergeant. Obviously, Sam is a suspect so he must be a smoker. I don't think I know any others. The only way I knew about Louise is that I've caught her puffing in the women's room like some high school student."
Gavin looked over his shoulder again at his superior. "Tom, Zack Martin and Mr. Grayson."
Marissa sputtered. "Grayson? I'm positive it couldn't be him. He seems much too genteel for something like that. I can't imagine him puffing imported cigarettes at the ashcan." Marissa shivered as she recalled the attack. She felt vulnerable all over again and wondered if she should have stayed home.
"He doesn't. Neither does Zack. They can do it in the privacy of their offices. Enclosed offices are exempt from the no-smoking policy. Something about special ventilation."
"Rank has its privileges, right? Speaking of which, Bandarra is making arm motions like he wants to go. I promise not to mention this to another living soul. Don't worry about me. My lips are sealed."
The man walked off toward the door with the sergeant swinging his arms in wide circles, pausing occasionally to push his glasses up his nose. Marissa watched Gavin until he was out the door and then she stepped back to the cosmetics area. Pulling the phone out from under the counter, she punched in a few digits.
"Hello, Anne. You're never going to believe what I just found out."
Chapter 14
Marissa shook her head as she hung up the phone. "The whole store is under investigation! I wish they would just solve this and get out of my life."
As Opal walked by, the older woman stopped and looked at her boss. "I'm sorry. Were you talking to me, dear?"
Marissa looked up and noticed a Christmas pin on Opal's sweater which would have looked gaudy on most people with its lilac design and pearl buttons but the trinket seemed to fit the clerk. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Opal. Just venting. It just seems like everywhere I turn, the police have found another motive for someone to kill Steve Douglas."
"From all that I've heard, he seemed like a rather rude and difficult young man. You certainly didn't think death would improve him any, did you?" As she spoke, Opal worked on a pull in her sweater, fingers deftly manipulating the threads.
"But did everyone in Cincinnati have to have a motive for killing him? It's really starting to bother me that all these people are being accused of a crime only one person committed. At least, no one has accused you of killing him — yet."
Opal opened her mouth to speak, but Adam Ziegler stepped to the Caliente display and started sniffing. "Do I smell someone getting frustrated here?" He flashed a big smile that crinkled his eyes, but didn't reach the rest of his face. Under the fading remnants of a California tan, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth quickly faded into a frown. His body drooped like a month old pine wreath.
Marissa gave him a weak smile. She wished that she could cheer him up or offer some support. Yet she didn't feel strong enough to carry any more problems at this point. Even if he wasn't the dream date Anne made him out to be, he still was a nice guy. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Not much. Have either of you seen Ellen? I thought we were supposed to meet at ten, but I haven't been able to find her anywhere. I just thought she might be with you, Riss. One of those six hour lunches of yours."
"She went off somewhere with Bandarra. You'd think she was joined at the hip with the police these days. Did she forget a big meeting, or is it something I can help you with?"
Adam shook his head slowly, but his blond hair didn't move. "I don't think so. We have to review the personnel folders."
"Looking for more smokers?" Marissa pushed her dark hair out of her eyes and glared at him.
Adam's eyes widened, and he puckered his lips in a silent whisper. "Exactly how much do you know about this?"
"Enough. Don't you ever get worn out from being suspicious of everyone here?" Marissa looked out across the store and tried to remember a happier holiday season. Would there be an end to all of this? She fought an urge to leave and not come back. Maybe things were more peaceful at the North Pole. With her luck, the Clauses would be having marital trouble, and one of the elves would turn up dead.
Adam pointed at her. "Maybe if you were a little more suspicious of everyone and a little more careful about what you say, you wouldn't have been attacked yesterday."
Marissa stuck out her finger so that it almost touched his, a Kantor's version of the Sistine Chapel. If he was Adam, that made her in charge, but she couldn't see him taking orders from a woman. "If someone were out to kill all the gossips in the store, they wouldn't start with me. Is that what the police think? Do they really think that someone tried to kill me because I said something?"
“Said something or know something.” Adam shrugged. "You're the one that seems to be tight with the police. Why don't you ask them?"
"Don't be rude, Adam. They've just shared a little information about the murder, because I happen to be involved."
"Yeah, right." The security man smirked. Marissa felt her sympathy dry up as he continued talking. "If you were a man, they wouldn't give you the time of day. Listen, if you do see Ellen, tell her I'm up in personnel with the files."
Marissa clenched her fists as the man strode off. Opal had remained silent during th
e interchange, her eyes following the participants like a tennis match.
"I can't stand that attitude. Everyone is guilty until proven innocent around here."
Opal patted her boss's shoulder. The though was soft as a pillow. The woman smelled of powder and violets. "They're just trying to do their job, dear. Besides, they have years of experience with people lying to them or not telling the whole truth. They get jaded."
Marissa looked up and smiled at the woman. "At least you are above suspicion. I have one person in my department I know won't fall into the police dragnet. It's a small comfort."
Opal didn't look at Marissa. She seemed to be looking for customers for several seconds. "Do you have a minute? I need to tell you something, but in private, not out here in the open."
Marissa's eyes closed to slits. Had she overlooked being Mother Confessor to twelve women in her job description? "You make it sound serious. Why don't we go in the back room? Nicole should be able to handle the customers for a few minutes. It doesn't take much effort for her to ignore them." Marissa led the way past the counters to the door leading to the store room and her office. The door swung shut behind them and Marissa sat on top of the desk, motioning for Opal to take the desk chair.
"So what is this very private story that you want to tell me?"
Opal pulled at the fabric of her slacks that had bunched up in her lap. Her eyes did not meet Marissa’s. "Well, I just felt guilty when you kept saying that I didn't have a motive to kill that boy. I had a very good motive. I thought maybe you could tell the police if you think that it's necessary, but if it's all the same to you, I'd like to keep it private."
Marissa sat on the desk, with her mouth hanging open. "You have a motive? I just can't believe it. Did this guy steal from widows and orphans, too? I haven't met a soul who really cared for him."
Opal looked up, with her mouth pressed into a thin pink line. "I didn't know him as a man. We knew him as a boy, and he was very unlikable then. He almost destroyed my husband."
Marissa raised an eyebrow. "Did you know when he was growing up that he would become an actor or something like that? Was he dramatic?"
Opal paused. "There was a certain presence about him. You couldn't help but notice him when he was in a room, but I just put that down to his attitude more than something special."
Marissa shifted on the desk, looking down at her ankles and crossing them slowly. "I still don't see why you didn't tell the police. Just knowing Steve Douglas doesn't make you an automatic suspect."
The woman folded her spotted hands in her ample lap. "I have a very good motive for wanting that man dead. I told you that he ruined our lives."
Marissa looked up quickly. "You and your husband's lives?"
"That's right. I'm working right now because of that man." Her little jeweled fingers tightened as she spoke. "It's ironic that I could be a suspect, because I work where he was killed when he was the one who made me work in the first place."
"I don't understand." Marissa's brow furrowed under her bangs. "What did he do to make you work?"
The older woman looked away. Marissa thought she saw tears in her dreamy eyes. "My husband used to be a teacher at one of the local high schools. He taught English literature and was the head of the drama department. Steve Douglas was a student there."
"Did you know Sam Munson?"
Opal shook her head. "No, I didn't know all of the students. I met a few through the drama events, but that was about it."
"Go on." Marissa leaned forward crossing her arms on her lap. "I'm sorry I interrupted."
Opal took time to straighten her pin. "That's fine, dear. It gives me time to collect my thoughts. Steve was up for the part of Romeo in the school play, but he lost out to another student. My husband wasn't overly impressed with Steve's acting ability, and I think his movies bear out his opinion."
"So Steve was mad about losing the part."
"Furious. I remember my husband coming home and telling me about the temper tantrum he had thrown in class, cursing and vowing that my husband would pay for this. The next day Larry, that's my husband, was called to the principal's office. Steve had gone to one of the counselors that morning and told them that Larry had made some unwanted sexual advances towards him."
Marissa brought her hand down on the desk, and the small area rang with the sound. "That principal should have been here last week for Steve's appearance here. Doing it in the conference room and calling me 'Babe'. Then he would have known about sexual advances."
Opal sighed. "Well, they didn't see that. The principal believed Larry, but Steve threatened to take his story to the press unless something was done immediately. So the school let Larry go. All the other schools wanted to know why someone with twenty years in one school system was fired during the middle of a term. He couldn't find another position, so Larry had to retire. We could have sued, but the whole thing would have come out in the open, and that would have killed Larry. He was only forty-seven, and we didn't have enough money to live. Larry was able to make a little money acting in local productions, and I had to get a job here."
"That's a terrible story. Steve just got away with it. No one was able to stop him?"
A strange look came over Opal's face, a mixture of loathing and humor. "The worst part of the story is that Steve got the part of Romeo. The new drama coach was so afraid of what might happen that he let Steve have the lead in every production until his graduation."
"A star was born."
Opal rolled her eyes. "Is it possible that we could keep this between the two of us? I know you are close to the police and Ellen, but —"
Marissa let out a noise between a squeal and a roar that made Opal jump. Enough was enough. What had Adam said about gossip? "I am not close to the police. I think that half the store has me married to Gavin Tish. I wouldn't be surprised to find my name registered in Bridal."
"Well, I do think it fair to warn you that we’ve discussed it in the department. Do you realize that if you marry him that your last name would be Scott-Tish? Scottish. We had a good laugh over that." The odd look was replaced with a genuine smile on Opal's face, and Marissa wondered if she had imagined the expression.
"That's enough to make me not date him right there. Seriously though, I don't see why anyone else needs to know. The police are looking for a large man who smokes. You don't fit the category."
Opal closed her eyes. "No, but my husband does. Why are they looking for a smoker?"
"I smelled smoke on my attacker yesterday. The police in their infinite wisdom assume that the two crimes are related." Close enough to the truth without divulging what she’d learned.
The older woman reached over and patted Marissa on the knee. "No matter how I felt about that boy, I would never attack you or let my husband hurt you in any way, dear. You've been very kind to me."
"It's a matter of self-preservation. You're the best worker I have. Unless it proves to be critical to the murder, I'll keep this to myself. Besides, Nicole has her own motives for the killing," Marissa patted the woman's hand in return.
They sat there for a moment when there was a small sound in the distance. Marissa slid down from the desk and walked carefully in the direction of the noise. She passed through the hallway behind the cosmetics department, searching the aisles of merchandise as she did. The tall metal shelves cast a deep shadow across the cement floors. Opal followed a few steps behind.
"Do you think someone was eavesdropping? How much of that story do you think they heard?" The old woman picked up a sample bottle of perfume and held it in front of herself.
"No telling. It might have been mice." Marissa felt her hands tingling as she continued to walk toward the far end of the storage room. Yesterday seemed very real again. The smell of smoke filled the air, and Marissa remembered dangling from her attacker's hold. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but she still smelled tobacco burning. "I'm sure it was just a mouse."
Opal stopped in her tracks. "Not unless mice s
moke." She picked up a cigarette butt that sat smoldering on the edge of one of the metal shelves. The ashes still lay on the shelf in a cylindrical form, and the end glowed a dull red. Opal crushed the cigarette into the shelf until only the butt was visible. On the floor, a small piece of rectangular cellophane glistened. Marissa turned quickly and walked back towards her office.
Chapter 15
That night, Marissa slept poorly, her dreams filled with people who weren't what they seemed. Steve Douglas made an entrance, dressed as Romeo and called her "Juliet". Marissa's arms stayed motionless at her side no matter how she willed them to move. She was glad to wake at six o'clock and hear the gentle patter of rain against the window. Another gray winter day in Cincinnati. Not exactly the thoughts of a white Christmas to put shoppers in a mood to stock up on early presents, but dreary rain was as close as this city usually got to a winter wonderland.
By the time she arrived at work, the night's troubled sleep had caught up with her. She stifled another yawn as she entered the department.
Nicole greeted her the moment she step foot in the cosmetics area. "Miss Scott, it's here. The new shipment of that cologne is here."
"Where is it?" Marissa searched the counters, expecting to see the display case full of the cologne. "Has it sold out already?" Wait until Leslie downtown hears about this, she thought. Finally, a break from bad luck.
"I hid it. I was afraid someone might steal it or come at it with a crowbar, so I put all the cases in the stock room."
Marissa took a deep breath. At least the clerk was exactly what she seemed. No subterfuge lurked beneath the surface. "Nicole, that's where it was stolen from. Anyone could be back there taking it right now."
"No, they couldn't. I've been back there with it ever since we opened."
Marissa stormed to the back room, happy to know that the merchandise was safe even if no sales could have been made by the clerk guarding the cologne. She threw her coat on the metal desk and strode over to the boxes. There were eight new cardboard boxes, like the missing shipment. Each box stood about a foot high and two feet long. Marissa grabbed the top of one of the boxes and pulled. The cardboard gave way and she gazed at the contents, rows of cologne bottles.
Love Stinks Page 10
