by Mary Maxwell
“Delilah’s showing my sister how much she enjoyed fly-fishing,” he said by way of explanation. “You must be Kate.” He put down the beer and slid off the counter, drying his hand on his jeans before holding it toward me. “I’m really grateful for you helping my sister,” he added as we shook. “She told me that you used to be a detective or something?”
“Private investigator,” I said. “I was just trying to help Viv figure out what had happened to you two.”
Delilah laughed. “We went fishing,” she said. “After Delmar got killed, the freak show in Denver got too spooky.”
Viveca came out of the pantry with a box of crackers. She gave me a hug and asked if I wanted a glass of wine. I shook my head and asked for water. While she went to the cabinet for a glass, I asked Tim and Delilah if they were aware of what had happened in her apartment after they left town.
“You mean Toby?” she said gently.
I nodded, but didn’t say anything. They locked eyes for a few seconds and Tim told her it would be okay.
“We heard he got shot,” Delilah said softly. “It’s just horrible.”
“Do you know what he might’ve been doing in your apartment?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Other than invading my privacy, I have no idea.”
“Is that something he did often?”
“The guy’s a total loser,” Tim said. “Or…he was a loser. Jake Breen used him for odd jobs around the building. Toby’s name was on the deed because his dad’s pretty well known in town and Jake had a police record. None of the banks would loan him the money to buy property, so he propped Toby up as his business partner. I don’t understand all of the details, like how they pulled it off and everything. But I guess Jake had some wild-eyed plan to buy a bunch of real estate in the city so he could eventually go legit. We heard rumors at York Street that some of his cash was forcibly withdrawn from a couple of small banks around the state.” He flashed a smile. “If you know what I mean.”
I matched his grin with one of my own. “I’ve heard the same rumors,” I said. “But you think Breen was planning to leave the life of crime behind?”
“Or his life of whatever,” Tim shrugged. “I just know what Heidi told me.”
At the mention of the other woman’s name, Delilah’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know why you’d believe anything she says, Tim.”
Viveca drifted over with my glass of ice water. I took a few small sips while Tim finished his beer. After realizing that he wasn’t going to respond to Delilah’s remark, I asked them both what they knew about Heidi Zimmer.
Delilah heaved a sigh. “That girl is a witch,” she hissed. “Actually, they both are—Heidi and Hannah. We all went to high school together in Omaha, me and the twins and Jake Breen.”
“What about Anton Hall and Lois Jordan?” I said.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “They were part of the rowdy bunch. After Jake and Anton moved to Denver, it just sort seemed natural for the rest of us to follow. We were all pretty tight in school.” She paused for a brief moment. “Back then,” she continued, “everybody joked that Heidi and Hannah were in a coven or something. Heidi used to totally follow guys around like a shadow. Then she’d tell everyone they were going out even though the guys didn’t even know her name. It was creepy.”
“You never told me any of that,” Tim said.
Delilah looked down at her hands. “I didn’t want you to know,” she mumbled. “I wasn’t the nicest girl back then. I was afraid one of the twins would tell you about some of the things that I did.”
The admission left us in an uncomfortable silence. Viveca kept her eyes focused on her half-filled glass of wine. Tim went in search of a fresh bottle of beer. And Delilah pulled out a chair from beneath the table and sat down.
“Do you own a patchwork coat and floppy black hat?” I asked her.
“No,” she said. “Why are you asking?”
“Because I saw them in your apartment,” I answered. “The day that Viveca and I met you.”
She thought for a moment, shifting her gaze to Tim and then back to me. “Yeah, that’s right. I remember now. But those don’t belong to me; they’re Hannah’s. Or maybe they belong to her roommate, that chick named Lois. I’m not really sure. The two of them are always trading clothes and dressing alike. To tell you the truth, that kind of creeps me out, too. Like Hannah doesn’t want to be her real sister’s twin anymore, but she and Lois are trying to be mirror images of one another. Lois is heavier and a lot shorter, but Hannah usually wears oversized clothes anyway. I think she has some weird hang-ups about her body.”
“That’s interesting,” I said when she finished. “Hannah and Lois wear one another’s clothes and dress alike now and then?”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Now and then?”
“Are you saying it’s all the time?”
She shook her head. “I’m not saying that. But I do remember that Hannah left the patchwork coat at my place a couple of weeks ago. She came over and tried to get me to breakup with Tim by telling me a bunch of lies about him. She’s so much more messed up than I ever would’ve guessed. I mean, she thought I’d believe her crap and dump him. And then—get this part—she believed that if I broke up with Tim, he would instantly start dating her. Or her roommate. Or maybe her twin sister. It was never clear which one was really interested in him. But it seemed like they were all somehow in on it, you know? Like they were working together to get me out of the picture so one of them could have my boyfriend. When I told her it wasn’t going to happen, Hannah was so upset that she forgot the coat and hat when she rushed out the door.”
“Did she come back for them?” I asked.
Delilah shook her head. “No, they’re still in my apartment as far as I know.”
I shot a quick look at Viveca. She was staring at her hands, folded into a tight, anxious twist in her lap.
“When Viv and I went by the day that Toby was shot,” I said slowly, “the coat and hat were gone.”
Delilah muttered under her breath and stared at the floor. “Those stupid, ugly…” She looked at Tim. “I bet that Jake gave them keys!” she said. “Or maybe Anton did. He came by York Street during a meeting not too long ago and lectured me about being nicer to Heidi and Hannah.” She heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Can you believe that? After all the years that I’ve put up with their madness? My guess is one of the twins probably just went into my place when I wasn’t home to get the coat and hat back.” She fumed for another moment, crossing her legs and rocking from side to side in the chair. “Did you know that Jake and Lois were dating for a while?” she asked Tim. “I swear that I am never going back to York Street again. I could just tell there was something truly skeevy about those three girls lately.”
I finished my water and walked the glass to the sink. “It’s a small world, isn’t it?” I asked when I turned back to face Delilah and Tim.
“What do you mean?” he said. “Because me and Delilah go to the same meetings as those guys?”
I shook my head. “It’s more that two separate groups of people—Jake Breen and his crew along with you two and the Zimmer sisters—overlap at both AA and your apartment building.”
Tim shrugged. “We both rented our places after we started going to York Street,” he explained. “Heidi was living there at the time, on the third floor down the hall from me. Her sister and Lois were sharing a place on the ground floor, but they all moved out a few weeks ago after Jake bought a new building.”
“How do you know that?” Delilah demanded.
Tim looked away. “Because Lois was always slipping notes under my door.”
I watched as Delilah’s cheeks flushed with color. I expected an outburst, but she didn’t say a word. After a few silent moments, I asked Tim when he moved into the building on Franklin Street.
“I don’t know the exact month,” he said. “I was still drinking pretty heavily. And the band was on the road a lot. I remember it was cold, so s
ometime during the winter I guess.”
“Did you see it on Craigslist?” I asked. “Or in the Westword classifieds?”
He shook his head. “No, I’d started going to the late-night candlelit meeting at York Street because I was trying to sober up,” he said. “I was sleeping on my buddy’s floor at the time, just a temporary deal after I moved out of my last place. But Heidi came up to me one night when the meeting ended and said her boyfriend owned a building and he—”
“Jake was never Heidi’s boyfriend,” Delilah interjected. “But I’m sure she told you that.”
She flared her nostrils and shook her head. “I mean, it’s insane! For somebody who’s supposedly sober and turning over a new leaf, Heidi’s still playing the same old games that she played when we were kids. After you and me started going out, I should’ve insisted that we find a new meeting and someplace else to live. I knew those girls would be trouble. I knew they’d try to drive a wedge between us.”
“But they didn’t,” Tim said. “I told all three of ’em that I wasn’t interested. I made it real clear that I already had a girlfriend.”
Delilah’s eyes filled with tears. Viveca quickly plucked a paper towel from the dispenser and crossed the room with it.
“Thank you,” Delilah whispered, dabbing at her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m such a mess tonight.”
“Probably because you guys have been through a pretty rough patch,” I suggested. “It’s not every day that someone delivers poisoned cupcakes to your door.”
Tim laughed. “Man, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy that I can’t eat chocolate.”
Delilah sighed. “I want to find a new apartment we can share,” she said. “Is that okay?”
Tim climbed down from the counter and joined her at the kitchen table. He picked at the label on the beer bottle with one finger while she apologized again.
“Of course, it’s okay, baby,” he said. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me that you knew those girls. I don’t care what you did when you were in high school.” He glanced over at his sister. “I mean, come on; me and Viv weren’t exactly angels when we were kids.”
“Speak for yourself,” Viveca said with a grin. “I was the poster child for angelic perfection!”
They shared a warm laugh and briefly reminisced about their long ago past.
“I hate to interrupt,” I said when they finished. “But can we get back to Heidi and Hannah?”
Delilah smirked. “Do we have to? I really dislike those two women.”
I nodded. “I’m still trying to figure out who left the poisoned cupcakes outside Tim’s apartment, so I—”
Viveca jumped out of her chair. “You don’t need to bother with that anymore, Katie! Tim and Delilah turned up and they’re both fine. You should let the police sort out the rest of the matter.”
“I will, obviously. But I also have a natural curiosity about these things. I kind of miss that life, you know?”
“What life?” asked Delilah.
I explained that I’d worked in Chicago for ten years as a PI. Then I asked her why she was so unyielding in her opinion of Heidi and Hannah Zimmer.
“I don’t know what you’re asking me,” she said, wrinkling her forehead.
“She’s asking why you hate them so much,” Viveca said. “Right, Kate?”
I nodded and waited. I could tell from the look on Delilah’s face that she was thinking about the Zimmer twins. I imagined that she was dredging up memories from the recent past as well as the type of secrets, regrets and indiscretions that people reveal during AA meetings.
“Okay,” she said finally, directing her gaze at Tim. “Remember that one night we went for Chinese with everybody?”
He stared at her.
“The night I got so upset and we left early,” she added.
“Oh, yeah,” Tim said. “I’d never seen you so mad before.”
“Well, right after we ordered, I went to the restroom,” Delilah continued. “A second or two later, Heidi and some other chick came in. I was in a stall, so they didn’t know I was listening. But Heidi started cutting me down and bragging about how she was going to steal you away from me.”
Tim groaned. “Like I’d ever be interested in somebody that crazy.”
“Well, the other woman kept telling Heidi that she was interested in you,” Delilah continued. “The second chick said, ‘If Tim won’t go out with me, then I’ll do something drastic so you’ll never have him anyway?’”
Viveca gasped. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” Delilah said. “It sends a chill down my spine now, thinking back on everything that’s happened. But at that moment, listening to the two women bicker, I just figured they were being stupid. Like friends fighting over a guy.”
I thought for a moment. “Or sisters,” I said.
“What do you mean?” asked Viveca. “Do you think one of the twins is responsible for the poisoned cupcakes?”
“It’s just one of my two theories at this point,” I said. “I still need to do some more digging before I can tell if either premise will hold water or not.”
CHAPTER 40
It had been a few months since I talked to Calvin Roth, but he was the first person I thought about as I left Viveca’s place and headed for home. After trading my jeans and long-sleeved pullover for my robe and slippers, I went into the living room and opened the last unpacked box from my office in Chicago. The tattered leather journal that had served as my official repository for telephone numbers was buried at the bottom beneath wrinkled folders, coffee-stained notebooks and transcripts of witness interviews. While I primarily relied on the contact list on my phone, the journal served as my trusty backup in case the digital records were ever lost.
I opened the journal to the page marked IT Consultants, and smiled at the lone entry: Calvin Roth. When I started working for Rodney in Chicago, I didn’t know how many computer gurus it would take to manage our technology requirements. In the end, Calvin was the only one we needed. In addition to installing all of our office equipment, Calvin handled certain surreptitious and delicate information retrieval missions.
“It’s called hacking,” I’d told Rodney when he explained Calvin’s after-hours enterprise. “And it’s also illegal.” My late, beloved boss had sneered at my self-righteous declaration. “You’re new to the game,” he’d told me. “Wait until you’re on a case that’s really tricky, when you’re dealing with some low-life con that’s kidnapped a thirteen-year-old girl and the fastest way to find him is hacking a phone or laptop. Get back to me then and I’ll give you Calvin’s number.”
Since I’d only been working as a PI for a few weeks at that point, I accepted his comment as the musings of an experienced mentor. I knew he was talking about a case that he’d worked before I joined the agency, a situation that ended tragically. About six months later, when I was working on something that involved a crushing deadline and especially secretive individuals, I hired Calvin to do a little computerized digging. I wasn’t wild about the thought of it, but the well-being of a small child was at risk. During the years that followed, I used him sparingly and only when I’d exhausted all other avenues.
After dialing Calvin’s number, I walked into the kitchen, opened a Sky High box filled with day-old goodies and reached for a snickerdoodle, figuring there would be time for one or two bites before he answered. When he picked up on the first ring, the cookie went back in the box.
“I thought you’d never call,” he said in his distinctive monotone. “Did you come to your senses and move back to Chicago?”
The question made me smile. “Not yet,” I said. “How’s it going, Calvin?”
He coughed into the phone. “I’m home with a cold,” he grumbled. “Eating pizza and watching the Cubs.”
“Sounds like a perfect night,” I said. “Except for the cold.”
There was a flood of sniffling and another soggy cough. “If I can’t be sailing the Mediterranean on
a yacht with a bunch of supermodels,” he joked, “I guess the Cubs will do.”
We made small talk for a few minutes about the usual suspects: work, weather, pizza, Lake Michigan, baseball. Then I told Calvin that I was calling to ask for his help.
“Whatever you need,” he said.
“I’m sort of working on something here,” I explained. “I’d like to get background info on three women. They grew up in Omaha, but moved to Denver within the last few years.”
“Anything specific?”
“High school or college transcripts,” I said. “Anything that relates to chemistry, biology or forensics.”
He was quiet for a moment or two. Then he asked how the trio’s educational history was related to Sky High Pies.
“This isn’t for Sky High,” I confessed. “And it’s a long story. Do you remember the Sheffield case?”
He snickered softly, but the laugh turned into a slight cough that quickly grew into a deafening roar. I held the phone down until he finished.
“Yeah,” he said, coming back on the line. “Wasn’t that, like, four or five years ago?”
“Four years and three months,” I said. “To be exact.”
“That was the one with Barbie and Ken, right?”
“Those weren’t their real names,” I said.
“Yeah,” Calvin said. “But she was homecoming queen, he was the quarterback and someone blackmailed them ten years after high school graduation for some risqué photos they took using part of the school mascot costume, right?”
“At least the cold hasn’t affected your memory,” I teased. “The thing I’m working on right now is similar to that case. It involves jealous siblings, a couple of murders and acetonitrile-laced cupcakes.”
