by Gwen Gardner
“What about Shelly?” said Padma, a frown appearing across her smooth features.
I decided to take the plunge and risk Padma knowing what I was. It couldn’t make things any worse. I took a deep breath.
“Shelly wants me to ask you about the day she left work early.” I watched Padma’s dark skin go pale.
“Wha? What do you mean?” She coughed and sputtered after choking on her coffee. “What do you mean, wants?”
“Padma, I hope I can trust you.” I looked down and hesitated. “Shelly just whispered in my ear to ask you about the day she left work early.”
Padma looked to both sides of me and then around the restaurant. “So...what are you saying? She’s here? Right now?”
“I talk to ghosts,” I said matter-of-factly. I waited, watching the flicker of emotions cross her face. The silence seemed interminable, but Padma finally spoke.
“Did you know Shelly? Did you ever meet her?” She was still trying to understand where the information came from.
“No, I never met her. I only moved here six months ago.”
“How did you know to ask me...” she began. “No, never mind. You already said. This sort of thing is hard to believe, I mean, I’ve never met anyone who could...you know.”
Why did people always twirl their finger and say you know when they found out about me?
“I know,” I said. “So tell me. What happened on the day Shelly left work early?” I sipped my now-cold coffee, waiting for her reply.
Padma hesitated. “I’m not certain,” she began. “We had a customer in and Shelly was helping him. Something about not getting paid on a project. He was a contractor. I couldn’t hear what was being said – I had my own customer. But the man was visibly upset. Even more unusual was that Shelly became upset, too. It showed on her face – our cubicles faced each other – she claimed illness and said she had to go home.”
“Who was this man?” My heart skipped a beat. That familiar tingle crawled up my neck. We were on to something.
“You must know I can’t tell you that,” she said, a frown between her eyes. “As a non-profit organization that serves immigrant needs, our records are confidential.”
I stared blankly. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. We had a chance to solve the death of three people, and she wouldn’t give me the information? “Are you kidding me? Shelly was your friend. How could you – what are you...” I clamped my jaws shut, unable to speak.
Padma stood up and put her coat on. “Come with me.”
Darn right I would come with her. I’d haunt her like an angry spirit until she parted with the information I needed. I slipped into my coat and followed her across the street.
We went up the stairwell and I waited while Padma unlocked the door and then re-locked it once we were inside. The office didn’t open for another hour yet.
Padma flipped on the lights on the way to her cubicle. She took off her coat and stowed her purse under the desk. Then she began to flip back through her desk calendar. When she found what she was looking for, she pointed and tapped.
“There,” said Padma. “August 16th is the day Shelly left early. If the problem had to do with not being paid, Shelly would have helped him file a claim.”
“Okaay.” I was confused. What was she trying to tell me?
Padma, exasperated, said, “On August 16th at the courthouse, there should be a claim filed – it’s public record.”
“Oh!” Suddenly I understood. I could get the man’s name from the public records! His name would be on the lien at the courthouse. And the man’s name was a clue given to us by Shelly herself. What could be better? “Thank you!” I hugged her spontaneously. “Thank you, thank you!”
“No problem,” she said. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
I hesitated, but asked anyway. “About Simon and Badger,” I began. “Do you...can you...”
“I won’t say anything – for now.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
“Be careful, okay?” Padma remonstrated. “I know I shouldn’t be letting you do this, but I want Shelly’s murderer caught.”
“So do we,” I agreed. “We’ll be careful, don’t worry.”
I left and went straight to the courthouse. I searched through the public records on the computer provided and found five liens recorded that day. Unfortunately, you had to order the documents before seeing them. I paid the clerk and was told the records would be mailed to me in the next five to ten days. I prayed for five days. We were running out of time.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cappy Cooks
Simon cut a deal with me that he would make dinner for the whole gang that evening, which would be allowed to count for the remaining four days of cooking he owed me because he lost our race. Truthfully, getting Simon away from the stove benefitted me more than him.
Yeah. It was like that.
He recruited Cappy to help him make spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread, so Cappy arrived early. With him guiding Simon, I hoped we’d have a decent meal for a change. Pub grub at the Blind Badger was good, but I didn’t want to eat that heavily every night. I don’t know how many ginnels I’d have to run through to shed those extra calories.
“Did you get everything from the list I gave you?” asked Cappy. Since he was Italian, I think Simon figured he’d be an ace at making spaghetti. I have to admit, Cappy looked like he had done this before.
“Yep, it’s all here,” said Simon. “Pasta, pasta sauce, garlic, tomatoes, Italian sausage and a loaf of French bread.”
I sat beside the fire grinning. I twisted my chair so I sat facing toward the stove – I wanted the best view of this spectacle.
“Right. What’s first?” asked Simon.
“Put a pot of water on the stove,” said Cappy. “And add a dash of salt and a drizzle of olive oil to it.”
Simon retrieved a small pot from above the butcher block table and took it to the sink.
“Not that one, mate! That wouldn’t even feed two of us,” said Cappy. He plucked a larger pot from a hook and handed it to Simon. “This one.”
Simon happily filled the pot with water and set it on the stove. He was willing to take abuse from Cappy, as long as Cappy helped him cook.
Cappy grabbed another big sauce pan and set it on the stove as well. He opened two jars of red pasta sauce and poured them in, setting the heat on low. “No time to make homemade sauce.” As he minced garlic, he said, “You know, I was thinkin’.”
Cleo rubbed against his legs, arching her back in ecstasy.
“Yeah, what about?” asked Simon. He dumped sausage into the pot, the boiling water splashing onto the burner. Cleo jumped and ran, twitching her tail in annoyance as she perched next to the fire, licking the offending water from her fur.
Simon jumped back as well, as the burner spat and hissed like Cleo. He held a dishtowel in front of him to avoid getting burned by boiling water. I’m almost ashamed to say I enjoyed it. Almost. For a change someone else was creating the havoc.
“Billy – and Gerry – that day we were at Puttock’s making a delivery.” He expertly sliced the French loaf the long way, and then cut it in half. He turned so he faced both of us. “I got the feelin’ that Billy ‘ad done a job for ‘im, and Gerry wasn’t too ‘appy about it. I’m wondering what the job was.” He looked at Simon standing idly by. “Make yerself useful, mate. Melt the butter and add this garlic to sauté.”
Cappy turned back to me. He had dressed for the occasion in a long-sleeved, button-down, over-large baby blue shirt that hung from his bony shoulders, and black Dockers, the pant-legs too long and frayed. His wet, black hoodie lay over a chair back near the fire to dry. I was touched. He had gone from purposely ragged to making an effort. I was glad he now considered himself part of our group. I was getting there, too.
“Hmm,” I said. “Do you think Gerry hired Billy to follow us?” Why hadn’t we considered that before? Because we basically dismissed Gerry as a
suspect – a high school crush wasn’t a good motive for murder.
“Well, I’m not counting that out,” he said, “but I don’t think that’s what they were talking about. If you remember...” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense, because I’m sure Gerry said something about a prostitute – and ‘e was angry. Billy seemed to be defending himself – or someone.”
The butter began sizzling on the stove and Cappy reached around Simon and took it off the burner. “Hey, mate, watch it. Yer burning it.” He turned the flame to low and put the butter with garlic back on.
“Did Billy have a girlfriend?” asked Simon. “And could she be the prostitute Gerry was talking about? It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Nobody ever reported ‘e had a girl with ‘im on any of the surveillances – or that ‘e ever went to see a girl, so I don’t think so...I don’t know for sure,” finished Cappy. “I can’t imagine ‘im having a girlfriend – ‘e was kind of gross - but there’s no accounting for taste.” He shrugged.
“I think we should find out,” I said. “If Gerry fought with Billy – and then Billy ended up dead...” I left off. “Of course he moves back to the top of our list.” We looked at each other in amazement. Why hadn’t we grasped the connection earlier?
“We suck,” said Simon. “We should have investigated that fight earlier – it may have helped.” He slung the wet dish towel over his shoulder and leaned against the sink. “And we should have remembered the fight, too. Because that fight makes him a bigger suspect now that Billy’s dead.”
At the light knock, I got up to peek through the window. I opened the door to Badger and Riley. They were bundled up against the cold and looked quite as ragged as I did. This investigation was taking a toll on all of us. We were all exhausted.
“Anything new?” I asked.
“No,” said Badger. “How about you? Did you talk to Padma?”
“Yes, sorry. I should have called – “
I hung up their jackets on pegs and they moved further into the kitchen.
Riley took the other armchair next to the fire, nearly sitting on Cleo, who strutted away perturbed, twitching and quivering her displeasure.
Badger sat at the table.
“Padma won’t say anything for now – she believed me, for what it’s worth.” I explained about my meeting with Padma and told them about Shelly being upset and leaving work early – that would have been the Tuesday before she disappeared.
“But we don’t know who the man was, or the project he was working on?” asked Badger. He thought for a minute. “So this lead takes us back to projects my dad was working on, then.”
I nodded in agreement, and then looked at Cappy before continuing. “We were talking. Remember the argument between Gerry and Billy?”
Badger and Riley both nodded. And then I told them about what we had been discussing.
“And so Gerry and Billy got in a fight, and Billy ended up dead,” said Badger.
“And Gerry is now a serious suspect,” added Riley. She walked over to the stove. “God that smells good! I’m starving,” she said to Simon, who was stirring the sauce.
Riley, as always, looked elegant. In her dress, walk, and manner. Everything. Tonight she wore jeans and boots, with a feminine lavender-colored blouse and scarf wrapped intricately around her neck as an accessory. Her hair, as always, was shiny and sleek – perfectly groomed.
In contrast, I wore jeans, bunny slippers and one of Simon’s over-sized sweat shirts. My hair was slipping out of its braid. The black eye, scratches, burns and cuts were my accessories.
“Yeah, it’s sort of my specialty,” said Simon, looking surreptitiously at Cappy to see if he was listening. The dinner was basically ready, Cappy having done most of the work.
Cappy pulled a chair from the table and sat opposite Badger, rolling his eyes at Simon, but continued with what he had been saying. “Other people were in the pub that day – the cook and another guy I ‘eard down the hall. We won’t learn anything from the cook, the old codger. But another of the worker’s might ‘ave ‘eard the argument.”
“Hang on a minutes,” said Badger, turning to Simon. “Did you ever talk to Patricia?”
“Nah,” said Simon. “She’s a little sore at me at the moment.”
Riley snorted.
“All right. How about you, Riley?” Badger asked. “Don’t you know that kid that waits tables over at Puttock’s?”
Riley turned with a slice of garlic bread in her hand and came over to the table. “You mean Danny? Yeah, we’re in the same class at school.”
“Great – then you can ask him about the fight,” said Badger.
“Sure, no problem.”
Simon set the table and then announced that dinner was served. As always, we dug in like we hadn’t eaten in a week. The entire meal was devoured before we sat back in our chairs.
“Good job,” said Riley, clearly impressed. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Thanks - Cappy helped,” said Simon, looking at Cappy sideways to see if he would object. Cappy let it slide.
“So what did you find out about the lunch at Jake’s?” asked Badger.
“Oh. Right. I called Beth, a girl I know who works there,” said Simon.
Riley rolled her eyes.
”There had been an argument,” he continued. “Loud enough to disturb the other patrons. Unfortunately, Beth couldn’t hear much –only the word ‘project’.”
“That lying git,” said Riley, looking around the table. “Andy told you guys their lunch that day was nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Yeah, but think about it,” said Simon. “If you had an argument a few days before a guy was found dead, would you mention it?” Riley sat cross-armed and stony-faced and stared at Simon. Looking around, he wasn’t getting any help from the rest of us.
“Come on, you know you wouldn’t. It’s like us chasing Billy. No way are we going to the police and say, yeah, we chased Billy – but we didn’t kill him. They wouldn’t believe us!”
“Simon’s right,” said Badger, reluctantly. “I don’t blame him for not telling us. And as we well know, circumstantial evidence doesn’t make him guilty.”
I got up and began to clear the table. Badger joined me. I started hot water in the sink and added the dish soap. I threw the dishtowel at Badger and grinned. He grinned back and rolled up his sleeves. Have I mentioned he has the best smile ever? “Obviously,” said Badger, “we have to try and find out what the argument was about.” He draped the towel over his shoulder so he could rinse the clean dishes.
A comfortable silence filled the room, until Riley’s voice spoke quietly. “Dad sure had a rough week, didn’t he? First he had a fight with Butch, and then he had a fight with Andy.”
“And then he was murdered,” added Badger, nodding. “Yeah. You could say he had a rough week.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Creepy Obsession
Riley called Danny, her friend who worked at Puttock’s Pub, and asked him to stop by the Blind Badger. The inquisition, er, information quest was to take place when he got off work on Friday night at eight.
Danny was a good looking, freckle-faced, ginger-headed guy who looked like Prince Harry. I’m sure the girls drooled over him in the halls at school.
I lit the fire in the snug while Riley started the coffee. Since she’d met me, she learned to like coffee. Cappy couldn’t stand the stuff, so she plugged in the electric kettle for tea as well. She lay out sugar, milk and biscuits, and a plate of sandwiches. We were kind of known for going through huge amounts of food when we got together. Especially Cappy. He acted as if he never ate.
Danny was the first to arrive.
“Hiya,” he said to Riley with a big smile.
“Hey.” She smiled back.
And then he glimpsed me.
The disappointment in his round, blue eyes were like a needle scraping across a record, going from a happy tune to a crappy tune in a matter of seconds.
Then Simon came in and his normally smiling face turned upside down at the sight of Danny. It dawned on me that he was jealous. He liked Riley. And not just liked her, but like-liked her. Normally he went straight for the food, but not tonight. Glowering kept him busy.
Cappy came in next and went straight for the food – no one wanted to be stuck with the left-over liverwurst. Although Cappy never seemed to mind much.
The noise level in the snug was rather loud in the small room as different conversations took place.
Danny was looking rather confused as Badger arrived and introductions were made all around, but he recovered good-naturedly, grabbing a sandwich and biscuits (cookies in britspeak) and making sure he was seated next to Riley.
“So,” asked Danny. “What’s the occasion? Somebody’s birthday?” He took a big bite of his sandwich and spit it out.
We laughed at the disgusted look on his face, Simon the loudest.
Since he wasn’t a member of our group, he didn’t know to look out for the nasty-tasting liverwurst. Riley only took the sandwiches from the kitchen that hadn’t been sold that day, and somehow, liverwurst was always left over. I don’t know why they bothered with the stuff, but Riley said some of the older folks really liked it.
“Blimey, what is that? It’s disgusting!” Danny spat the liverwurst into his napkin and took a drink of his tea to wash down the taste.
“Sorry.” Riley laughed. “It’s the luck of the draw ‘round here. Help yourself to another one,” she said, indicating the tray on the table.
“You mean unlucky, don’t you?” He grabbed another sandwich, hesitating about what to do with the liverwurst.
“‘ere, I’ll take it,” said Cappy, stuffing the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. “I don’t mind liverwurst.” He grinned delightedly at the disgusted looks he received.
The room eventually became silent and Danny looked uncomfortable as we all stared at him.
