Murder Most Fermented

by Christine E. Blum

  “Dangerous in what way, Max?”

  “In every way imaginable. Bad things kept happening, they seemed like coincidences at first, but we realized that they were triggered by our activity in the investigation. I remember being up in the gardens to collect soil samples one day, there’d been a rare heavy rainfall for two days prior, and people had seen small pools of oil in places.”

  “Wow, what were the test results on the samples?” I could have a baseline here to compare with the sample that I’d given to Frederick.

  “That’s the thing, before I could get anything to work with, all the irrigation suddenly came on along with the main power hose. The mud quickly turned to slippery sludge, and the water force pushed me all the way down the garden path to the bottom of the hill. I got banged up pretty good.”

  “Max, I’m so sorry. Something like that would deter anybody. Is anyone else interested in picking up where you left off?”

  I heard a thud coming from one of the corners of the office, it sounded like someone had dropped a book. Seeing the frightened look on my face Max explained, “That’s Malcolm, come out and say hello to Halsey, son.”

  It hadn’t occurred to me that we had company this whole time. Malcolm had been dead quiet, eavesdropping no doubt.

  “Hi.” Malcolm showed just his head and neck from behind a bookcase.

  “Don’t be shy, join us,” Max said. “Halsey is asking about the oil research.”

  He sheepishly walked to the table and remained standing.

  “Malcolm was also very interested in the oil portion of this study when he first joined us, so I shared all my notes but watched carefully to make sure that none of the bad omens that had plagued me would continue on with him.”

  “None did?” I asked.

  Malcolm shook his head.

  “And has your research been able to add anything to the oil question, Malcolm?” I was excited by the prospect of new news.

  “No, not really. I haven’t had much time to spend on it, we’ve been working for over a year now on cataloging all homes within a four-mile radius that were built before 1920. It’s an exhaustive process,” Malcolm proclaimed.

  I’ll believe you, Malcolm, just as soon as those pigs go airborne. “Pity, everybody sure seems hell-bent on finding oil.”

  Malcolm’s face paled.

  “I’ve taken up enough of your time, Max. This project sounds like a bear and I’m sure that you both want to get back to it.” I rose to leave.

  “You mean the 1920s homes?” Max asked, and I nodded while looking at Malcolm.

  “We finished that one over three weeks ago, it’s at the printer.”

  “Then congratulations are in order,” I said, walking out the door.

  * * *

  We’d never had consecutive Wine Clubs before, but tough times call for desperate measures. We’d gathered at Peggy’s and this was billed as a “wear your sweats, we’re having pizza and drinking cheap Italian wine” Wine Club.

  Of course, with this audience cheap did not equal bad. Since I’d pressed for this meeting, I brought a selection of Puglia Primitivo red wines. They are full-bodied and the notes of dried fruit leather remind me of a Zinfandel.

  I recounted my visit to the historical society office in the morning and my conversation with Max. It was a risk and I was hoping that Paula wasn’t going to go all cuckoorama on me. When I added that Malcolm was clearly listening in and then seemed totally disinterested in pursuing the study of oil in Mar Vista, both Penelope and Paula gave me their full attention.

  “So while Howard and Snyder are still on the radar, Malcolm’s behavior slides him up into spot numero uno.” Peggy was on her third slice and loving all things Roman.

  “He’s an interesting fellow,” Penelope said. “Did Jack and his dog ever pay him a visit?’

  “I don’t know,” I quietly replied.

  In no time they had circled the wagons around me. I’d told Peggy and Sally about the breakup but this was news to the other two. Sad news by their reactions. Paula proceeded to massage all my pulse points, which felt a tad creepy, and Penelope had brought her collection of Cadbury chocolates and wine gums. We all receded to the carpet and gorged on sugar and alcohol.

  “What we need,” said Sally, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling, “is a clear motive for Malcolm to need to kill Abigail immediately rather than waiting the short amount of time for her to die of natural causes.”

  “Hmm, what could that be?” Penelope was in the same prone position.

  “Let’s talk it out, girls. That’s the best way to solve this.” Peggy had moved back up to the sofa.

  “Maybe she had something on Malcolm that he didn’t want getting out? Maybe he wasn’t a relative after all?” Paula proffered.

  “Good thought,” I said, “but we do have documents that prove otherwise. And nothing to the contrary has surfaced since her death.”

  We fell back deep into thought.

  “Maybe it’s not about Malcolm at all?” Sally suggested.

  “Go on . . .” I said, knowing this was going somewhere.

  Sally nodded. “What if what she had to tell concerned the deed and the ring?”

  “Meaning she knew that they were fakes?” Penelope asked. “I know now that the ring indeed was.”

  “Let me call Frederick and see if he can now confirm that the deed is also a forgery,” I said, reaching for my cell. I went into the kitchen to get better reception. The call went straight to voice mail, and the girls heard me leaving a message.

  When I returned, Paula was up and pacing. “It’s Malcolm, I know it is. To think that he’s been in our home so many times, that he’s worked so closely with Max. MAX! I’ve got to get to him right away and warn him. I’ve got to go right now!”

  She made a hasty retreat out the front door.

  “It’s not even sunny out,” Sally said, shaking her head at Paula’s craziness.

  “It is all starting to make sense,” Peggy said. “If Abigail had discovered or remembered that these relics were just another scam, the product of her and Malcolm’s carnival ancestors, then Malcolm would inherit very little.”

  “Hence the reason she needed to be quieted,” Sally said.

  “I would never have guessed that the little redheaded runt had it in him,” Penelope said.

  “I’ve been wanting to ask for a while, Penelope, why do you dislike Malcolm so much? We’ve all seen it.” Now was the time, I thought.

  “Oh that, well, I don’t trust him and I have good reason. I came home late from work one night and wanted to stretch my legs before going to bed, so I took a walk. When I reached his house, I saw that Malcolm was hard at work digging a hole in the soil in a corner of the front lawn. When I asked him what he was doing, he said that his cat had died and he was burying him. I knew that he’d never had a bloody cat. He can barely keep himself fed.”

  Curious.

  Chapter 21

  Marisol hopped out of my SUV and marched on ahead of me like she was about to address her troops. In the real world, Marisol was here to collect installment one of my debt to her for saving me from another arrest with the video that showed Snyder bringing the rock to my house.

  I must admit though, I would never in a million years have thought that this would be the first thing on her list. I followed her through the doors of the Nails by Magda salon and told the woman at the desk that we both wanted mani/pedis. Marisol was already combing the racks of polish bottles for just the right colors.

  I’d chosen a fairly fancy salon. Even though she was acting like she goes all the time, I knew that her nail decorating was done mainly from her back patio. I could always smell the varnish and hear her swearing. Nails by Magda had the most up-to-date chairs complete with six different types of massages, neon lit foot bowls, and all sorts of seat adjustments. Before Marisol got seated, she must have grabbed ten gossip magazines from the drying station.

  “You have all those at home,” I said to her
.

  “Maybe, but it’s different when you’re reading them in here.” She handed the nail technician her color choices.

  “Those are awfully bright, Marisol, are you sure that this is what you want?” I looked at one of the labels and it read “Jungle Red.”

  “Of course it is; I can’t help it if I’m fashion forward.” She’d already cracked her first magazine.

  I set up a series of massages on her chair to last a total of twenty minutes. I figured that would keep her occupied and I could relax with my mini spa treatment. I’d splurged and opted for the deluxe package that included a deep moisturizing application, foot massage, and hot stones. The last part was a sore subject and I could have done without it.

  There were televisions hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room, allowing for viewing from every angle. The sound was muted but some TVs displayed closed-captioning. None of this mattered to me; I closed my eyes and let the women go to town on my upper and lower extremities. The only sounds I heard were the ambient music and the soft Korean mutterings of the girls to each other. I didn’t even stress that they could be ridiculing the deplorable condition of my cuticles. The warm water sent my imagination wandering to a day at the beach with Jack and the dogs.

  In my daydream, we were drying off on a blanket in the sun after about an hour of vigorous paddle boarding. The weather was perfect and we had the beach to ourselves. The sand below had shifted to each side of my body making a cozy cocoon. My head was turned to Jack and his to mine. He was telling me about his desire to learn photography and be able to capture the myriad of expressions he sees daily in dogs and other animals. I told him that I thought that he’d be a master at this because of the way he was able to connect to the dogs’ souls. He gave me his most endearing smile that told me how happy he was to have a goal to pursue.

  My reverie was interrupted by a low growl coming from inside the salon. I fought not to, but had to open my eyes to see what on earth was going on. When they focused on the room, I noticed that a number of the girls and their customers were laughing. I figured that someone had brought his or her lapdog along. Then I heard the sound again. It seemed to come from the very depths of the emitter’s belly and rise up and out. The sound was coming from nearby and the second eruption caused another round of titters. When it roared again, I looked over and saw that it was coming from Marisol, who was fast asleep. Her head had drooped over to one shoulder, the magazine she’d been reading lay open on her lap to a spread claiming that there’s proof that Vladimir Putin is the spawn of aliens.

  It could have happened.

  “Marisol!” I tried not to fill the salon with my voice. Nothing happened. “Marisol!!” I said louder. Still no response. “Oh my gosh, is that Mario Lopez?”

  She bolted upright, sending her magazine into the water-filled foot bowl. People didn’t even try to suppress their laughs this time.

  “Where is he?” she said, looking around and then up to the TVs.

  “You were asleep and snoring very loudly, Marisol. I had to wake you up.”

  “I was not; you don’t know what you’re talking about.” She was clearly fully awake now.

  “Oh, yes I do, Marisol. I don’t miss a thing,” I boasted.

  “Yeah? Then how come you didn’t tell me that the developer guy was being arrested?”

  I looked up at the TV to see a local news team at the scene of Howard’s construction site. He was in handcuffs and a caption was crawling along the bottom of the screen, stating that a large stash of prescription drugs had been found on the premises. I went to reach for my phone to call Sally, but my nails were still being finished. For the next thirty minutes all I could do was watch and it was driving me crazy.

  * * *

  When we pulled into my driveway, we both bolted out of our seats, Marisol went to call Augie and probably check her hidden camera feeds for new espionage. I ran into my house and speed-dialed Sally.

  “I hope you’ve got more info than the little clip I saw on the news,” I said before she’d said a word.

  “Boy do I, Peggy and I will be right over.”

  I saw Bardot looking at me expectantly and said, “No, I’ll come to you. My girl needs to stretch her four legs and have an olfactory orgy.”

  They were in Sally’s backyard and that killed many birds with one stone because she and Joe also have a pool. I let Bardot loose and she did her rounds of getting love from the humans and then headed for the pool. They have a connecting spa that was heating up for later. When Bardot discovered this, she did what anyone with muscle pain would do: cold, hot, cold, hot. I was glad that she could share in my pampering day.

  “It was so sudden and kind of odd,” Sally said. “I was closing in on one thousand steps and had just rounded the corner when I saw two squad cars pull up.” Sally checked her fitness band to confirm the number. “I noticed Howard’s truck at the curb and figured that he was on the lot.”

  “She had the good sense to call me and I scooted right over,” Peggy chimed in.

  “Two of the officers checked the perimeter of the lot while the other two went inside the structure, such that it is. You know what people say about places like that? Too poor to paint, too proud to whitewash.” Sally then went inside her house.

  “We found out later that the fellows were responding to an anonymous tip that they’d gotten, claiming that Howard had been seen selling pills to teenagers,” Peggy said, moving magazines and a vase off the low patio table that we were sitting around.

  Some sort of ritual was commencing with those two.

  Sally returned with a wine bottle in a chilled sleeve and three stem glasses. “I watched them lead Howard out of the fence gate and that’s when I saw that he was cuffed. He was claiming no knowledge of any crime and asking for his lawyer.”

  “I hope he didn’t mean Snyder,” I said, holding my glass up for Sally to pour.

  “I’d joined Sally by then, and we watched the officers put him in the back of one of the cars. I asked and they said that a warrant had been issued to search the entire lot.”

  Peggy took in a deep noseful of her wine’s aroma and then swished a sip around her palate. Her face relaxed into a look of satisfaction.

  “It didn’t take them long; I guess Howard didn’t feel that it was necessary to fully camouflage his narcotics.” Sally topped off my wine.

  “This is nice, what is it?” I asked, taking a sip.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Sally said. “I’m not used to drinking a chilled red, but it works perfectly for this Andre Dezat & Fils Sancerre. It brings out the light, floral, dry sweetness. I’m very happy with this discovery, and if the wine merchant hadn’t told me how to serve it, we’d never have gotten the full bouquet.”

  “So where were the drugs when they were found?” I asked; time to get back to business.

  “They said that a large bag holding a number of smaller bags containing the pills was sitting in a toolbox under the top tray. The box was right inside the doorframe under some hooks on a crossbeam where jackets and protective eyewear was hanging.” Peggy watched for my reaction.

  “I am very familiar with that section of the development, I even have photos of it from when I discovered Snyder’s bowler. I don’t remember seeing a toolbox. I’m guessing that this would be a large box, several feet long and deep?”

  Sally nodded. “I peeked in after they brought the bag out.”

  I was scrolling through the photos on my phone and found what I was looking for.

  “See? Nothing under the coats but dirt.” I passed my phone to them.

  “This must have been Howard’s last Hail Mary effort to get some cash. He probably put it there so that he could quickly make his transactions at the fence. Just like I do with my bucket of candy on Halloween,” Peggy said.

  “Which reminds me,” Sally responded. “I propose that this year we all gather in the driveway of one of our houses and combine all our candy. That way we can be together, drink wine, snac
k, and not have to keep getting up and down. My knees aren’t as young as they look.”

  “You’re always thinking, Sally.” Peggy patted her back. “Bravo!”

  “I wonder who the anonymous caller was?” I mused. “Maybe Carlos’s wife? Did the cops say whether it was a male or female voice?”

  “We didn’t think to ask,” Sally said, dejected.

  “I bet Marisol will know. She was calling Augie when I came over here.”

  “I’m sure that there is a long list of people that Howard owes money to. Anyone who knows what he’d been up to could have called it in. They may be hoping that if he goes to prison the property will be sold and they can recoup some of the money owed.” Peggy made a good case that it really could have been anybody.

  “I’ll let you know what I find out on my end,” I said, signaling for Bardot to extricate herself from the spa. She happily marched over to where we were sitting and shook her body, showering us with warm water.

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  * * *

  Marisol was out when I returned home, so I put on a pot of water for tea and sat down on the sofa to gather my thoughts. I’d really made a fine mess out of my life in the last month or so. Why do I need to always complicate things rather than just going with the flow of it? I’d made so many great new friends, I’d met a man that I loved, I lived in a great neighborhood with my loving dog, and yet I was feeling so alone. Like a single passenger stuck at the airport because her flight was permanently delayed. I jumped when my cell phone went off.

  It was Frederick.

  “Hello, dear, I’m returning your call and was happy to have an excuse to hear your lovely voice again.”

  I’ll never tire of his pleasantries.

  “Thank you, Frederick, I hope you are well. I’d called earlier for one final check on the deed. Can you confirm that it is actually an excellent forgery?”

  “And here I’d hoped that you were phoning to arrange another drinking contest. I want you to meet my wife, she’s got a hollow leg and will put you to the test.”

  “I’d like that very much.” I laughed. “I am almost in the clear on this Abigail Rose murder and when I am, we will need to celebrate.”