Alice was looking suspicious. Clearly, this was the first time she’d heard any of her husband’s story. “Well, what did you do?” she asked with an edge to her voice.
But Wilson’s gaze stayed on me, presumably because he was afraid of facing his wife. “Okay, here’s what I know,” he said. “About a month before all this stuff blew up, I got wind of a possible way to make money, and I was behind on some payments, you know, so I was looking for something quick.
“Big Bob comes to me one day, and he tells me someone he knows has found—that was the word he used, found—a whole bunch of coke, maybe five or six pounds of the stuff, and is planning on selling it, but he needs a middleman. Big Bob asks me if I’m interested.”
“So it was Big Bob approaching you?” I asked. “Do you think he was lying about it being someone else who ‘found’ the drugs, or was there someone else involved?”
“Oh, there was another guy, all right,” Wilson said. “Big Bob really didn’t want to do it at all. He kept talking about calling the cops. But he knew how bad I needed the money, and he didn’t want to see me…Well, it wouldn’t have been good if I couldn’t pay some people back, let’s say.”
I could only imagine. But that part of the story wasn’t pertinent right now. “Okay, Wilson,” I said. “You’re supposed to be the third man in this scheme, along with Big Bob and the other guy. Was the other guy someone you knew?”
Wilson shrugged. “I never found out. He wanted to keep himself invisible, you know. No way to trace him if things went wrong. But I figured it was Rocco, you know? Because he was really the only one who’d ever done time or anything.”
“That doesn’t mean he was involved in anything bad,” Mom told Wilson. “Kitty Malone’s in jail now, and I know she’s innocent.” She had picked up on my not mentioning that Kitty was out on bail. It made the situation seem more urgent, and kept the pressure on Wilson to talk to us.
Wilson shook his head sadly. “That’s bad,” he said. “Kitty’s an older lady, too, small, not built for it. She can’t make it in prison. And why would she kill Big Bob, anyway? Him and Maxie were broken up.”
Alice’s mouth hung open, and I hoped we weren’t ruining their marriage. I leaned forward. “Did things go wrong?” I asked.
“They must have,” Wilson said. “It was my job to line up the buyers, and I had some, just through connections I had around the shore, you know. The night comes when we’re supposed to do the deal, and for days, Big Bob has been mopin’ around, acting like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. ‘It’s not right; we shouldn’t do it,’ stuff like that. When it gets to be that night, he asks me how far deep am I in, and can I get by without the money from this deal. He really was a good guy, you know.”
“How much money are you talking about?” I asked, trying to keep Wilson focused.
“Oh, a lot,” Wilson said. “Close to a million each.”
The house around us was a nice suburban place, but it didn’t represent that kind of a nest egg. “So what happened?” I asked. “I’m guessing you didn’t get the money.”
“Hell, no,” Wilson agreed. “I’m lining up the buyers, and we agree to meet at three in the morning. So I’m supposed to meet up with Big Bob at two, after he and the other guy, whoever, got their hands on the coke. I go to where we’re supposed to meet, just off the boardwalk at Seaside Heights, and I wait. And I wait. And I wait some more. It gets to be three in the morning and no Big Bob. I don’t know how to get in touch with the other guy. I figure something went wrong, or they’re cutting me out, but Big Bob wouldn’t do that. So when my cell phone starts ringing after four a.m. and it’s my buyers, I don’t answer. It finally ends up six in the morning, and nobody’s bringing the blow. So I throw my cell phone into the ocean, get on my hog, and ride away from there as fast as I can without getting busted. Never looked back.”
Alice sucked in her lips and nodded. “So now I understand why you never wanted to talk about where you came from,” she said. “Meyer, honey, you must have been really scared.”
I didn’t have time for the family drama. “That’s the night Big Bob died,” I said. “So you never found out who the other guy in the drug deal was?” Whoever it was must have been the one who’d killed Big Bob, and probably would have killed Wilson after the deal was done to get all three shares of the money for himself.
“Never did,” Wilson said. “But I had my suspicions.”
Finally! “Who?” I asked.
“Like I said, I always kind of thought it was Rocco,” Wilson said. “He was the only guy who was mean enough and smart enough to pull it off. Little Bob wouldn’t have done it. Wouldn’t even have thought of it.”
There weren’t many more questions after that: Wilson and Alice clearly had a lot to talk about, and we had found out all he could tell us. I wasn’t sure if it had helped, but Paul would know if it was progress.
We made our farewells and thanked Wilson for his help. He walked us out to the Volvo. As we opened the doors and let the car air out a moment, I asked Wilson, “What did you tell Big Bob?”
He looked puzzled. “When?”
“When he asked you if you really needed the money, and if he could cancel the deal,” I explained. “What did you say to him?”
“That’s the funny part,” Wilson told me as we reached the Volvo. “Normally, I’d have done anything to get that much money, but Big Bob seemed so sad and upset, I told him it was okay with me if we forgot the whole thing. I guess he went ahead with it anyway.”
“Probably not,” I said as I started the car. “Thanks, Wilson.” And I drove away in my non-air-conditioned car as fast as I could. At twenty-five miles per hour. From what I’d heard, the cops around this area were nuts about speed limits.
Twenty-nine
We considered that all the way back to my house, and there was very little talk in the car. I drove Mom back to my house, but she begged off and said she needed to think and might call later. I think the trip had drained her more emotionally than she’d expected. Not that it would convince her she shouldn’t horn in on my business when I asked her not to; that wasn’t going to happen.
I did my customary sweep of the house. It was just about dinnertime for most of the guests, so the only ones left in the den were Don Petrone and Lucy Simone, who looked sad, probably because Steven had gone out with Melissa and hadn’t invited her. I said hello to Don and Lucy, asked if they needed anything—they didn’t—and went upstairs to change my clothes and then to the attic to check on the ghosts.
But before I made it to the pull-down stairs, I caught a glimpse of Tony Mandorisi at the far end of the hall past my bedroom door. Tony, in full contractor mode, was measuring the wall space and nodding gleefully to the beat of whatever was playing on his iPod.
“What’s all this then?” I asked in my best British bobby voice as he wrote the dimensions down on a small pad of Post-it notes he keeps in the pocket of his cargo shorts. He turned and saw me walking toward him, and held up his hand.
He took the headphones off. “No peeking,” he said. “I’ve figured out our access problem, and you’re going to love the solution. But you don’t get to see ahead of time. It’s a birthday present.”
“My birthday was three months ago,” I reminded him.
“Did I get you anything?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Well, there you are. Now, let me get to work.” And the headphones went back on. There could be no further discussion.
I left him to his secret plans, and before confronting my two troubled spirits, I decided to go back into my bedroom and call Luther with the news of the trip to Levittown.
“It looks like there was a drug deal,” I told him. “And it’s possible that Rocco was involved.”
Luther was silent for a moment. “I have a hard time believing it. Wilson said that?”
“No, not exactly. He was guessing. But I wanted to hear what you thought, because you know Rocco so much better than I d
o. What do you think?”
Again, there was a significant pause. I pictured Luther, not the way he looked at his business, where he was playing the role of Your Friendly Motorcycle Dealer, but as he looked the day I first met him, in blue jeans and a black leather jacket, more relaxed (and a little menacing, as I remembered it). That was better. I actually liked that guy more.
To be honest, I’d been thinking about that kiss and wondering if I hadn’t pulled back too soon.
“I can’t say that Rocco and I have had a lot of deep philosophical conversations,” Luther admitted. “He has a nasty streak, no doubt, but that’s putting an awful lot on his head with very little to back it up. I never even saw him so much as have a cross word with Big Bob.”
“Do you know where he lives? Can we go there?” I asked.
“I’ve never seen his place,” Luther said. “But maybe I can find out where it is. Give me about an hour, and I’ll call you back.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “Can you come over when you find out?”
“So we can strategize?” Luther asked.
I sort of bit the side of my mouth gently. “That, and maybe so we can try that kiss again when I’m ready for it.”
“I’ll be there,” he said without hesitation.
And almost immediately after we hung up, my phone buzzed again with a text. I decided not to look once I saw it was from a number I didn’t recognize. Since it wasn’t Melissa or Mom (or Jeannie saying it was “time”), I didn’t want to know.
I walked back out to the hallway, scrupulously avoiding any glance at Tony, and pulled down the attic stairs. Once upstairs, I took a look around both to assess the progress in the room (not far enough along) and to see if I could find two ghosts. I only found one, and he was upside down.
“This is getting really tedious,” Paul said of his inverted status.
“I know the feeling. Yeah, I imagine the novelty wears off pretty quickly,” I agreed. I gave Paul the update on the Big Bob investigation, during which he appeared to be listening very carefully. When I told him I’d also informed Luther, he murmured that he wished I hadn’t done that, and let it go. I never know what to say when Paul gets jealous.
“You’ve met this Rocco,” he said. “Do you think he could have killed Big Bob?”
I’d been running that around in my mind ever since Wilson had suggested it. “I can’t decide,” I told Paul. “I only met the man a couple of times, but I’ve been trying to picture him as the mastermind behind an enormous cocaine deal, or bashing in Big Bob’s brain with an adjustable wrench, and I’m not really seeing it. Everybody keeps telling me he has a mean streak, but to me, he seemed pretty benign, if a little rough.”
Paul’s goatee was getting quite the workout on this one. “I’ve found that your instincts about people are usually pretty accurate,” he said.
I thought, You have? But I kept the comment to myself.
“If you’re not convinced that Rocco could kill Big Bob, we should look into the possibility of other suspects,” Paul continued. “Do you think Wilson could have done it himself?”
I tilted my head to the left, which I do involuntarily when thinking. “I don’t know. There seem to have been two Wilson Meyers—the one before he left the shore, and the one after. I’ve only gotten to see the one after. He seems like a guy who would have a hard time stomping on a really nasty caterpillar.”
“Give me time,” Paul said. “I’ll work it out.”
“I’m not eliminating either of these two as suspects,” I said. “I’ve been wrong about people. I married Steven, after all.”
“Good point.” Thanks, Paul.
I decided to ask him something that could prove dangerous. “What does Julia MacKenzie look like?” I said. “It would probably help me along if I knew what to look for.”
“That was an interesting segue,” he said. “Are you having trouble with the search?”
“You know the rules. Now help me out.”
Paul got a sad smile on his inverted face. “She is not classically beautiful, but she has such a warm smile and such deep eyes that it’s impossible to think a negative thought about her.”
“That doesn’t tell me much,” I said, but I was noticing what I’d hoped for. I’ll tell you in a minute.
Paul nodded, trying to get into business mode, but still with the faraway look in his eyes and the goofy grin on his face. “About five-foot-three. I couldn’t tell you her weight; I’m a very bad judge of such things. But she is not so thin you worry about her health, nor overweight.”
“Hair?”
“Brown. Not black, not blonde. Brown. A very elegant color.”
“Eyes?”
“Also brown,” Paul replied. “Very, very deep and inviting. Nose, to be honest, a little bit larger than the rest of her features, but that kept her from looking perfect, more human. She is a very human woman.”
And then he looked at me, and saw that I was grinning broadly. “What?” he asked. But before I could answer, he noticed. “I’m right side up!” he said.
I nodded. “You started straightening when you were talking so fondly about Julia,” I told him. “It seemed to take you back to a calm—and upright—place.”
I think Paul was going to thank me, but just then was when Maxie pushed her way into the room through the ceiling and descended between Paul and me. “You won’t believe what just happened!” she crowed.
It seemed to me that what had just happened here was pretty remarkable, and Maxie was going out of her way not to notice. “Look!” I countered, and gestured toward Paul.
Maxie glanced at him, then back at me. “Yeah, but wait! I just…”
That was just rude. “Maxie,” I admonished. “Look at Paul.”
She made a face that indicated I was being a pill, took a quick look at Paul again, and then looked back. “Do you want to hear my news, or not?” she asked flatly. “Frankly, you’ve sort of killed the moment, thank you very much.”
“To tell you the truth,” I said, “I don’t want to hear your news, because you’re being a pain. Do you see what just happened?”
She made the kind of noise I expected to hear out of Melissa in three or four years and shouted, “I get it! He’s not upside down anymore! Big yip!”
“Calm down, ladies,” Paul tried, but it was much too late. His feet were starting to rise.
“Paul,” I said. “Take it easy.”
“Not sure I can. This must be stress related.” And he was horizontal, although not upside down, again.
Maxie rolled her eyes and vanished again, so Paul and I looked at each other. “You know, being in this house with the two of you isn’t always a wonderful dream,” he said. “I need a break.” And he rose up through the ceiling as if he was on a platform.
Ghosts. A bunch of ungrateful little babies, if you ask me.
Fortunately, two floors below the doorbell was ringing, and that could only mean one thing after such a short period of time—Luther was serious about getting that second kiss.
Sure enough, when I reached the front door, he was standing there, just a little spruced up from his usual out-of-the-office appearance: He was wearing the black leather vest he rode in, and had on clean jeans and a pair of boots that matched the vest. Even his mustache looked groomed and prepared. Luther was ready.
I wondered if I was, too.
“That was quick,” I said.
“Well, I was given an incentive,” he answered. “Can I come in?”
I stepped aside, and Luther walked into the foyer so I could close the door to keep in some of the cooler air. He grinned a very ingratiating grin at me. “How should we start?” he asked.
“Well, let’s talk about Big Bob and work our way up,” I suggested. “Business before—”
“Gotcha,” Luther said. “You’re still on the clock, aren’t you?”
We went into the front room and sat, alone, as the sun did its best to stay in the sky as long as possible, but for the past
three weeks, it had been losing just a little bit each night.
“Did you get Rocco’s address?” I asked him.
“I did. Now, what should we do with it?”
“Here’s the thing,” I said. “I just don’t get Rocco killing Big Bob.”
“No, you’re right,” Luther said. “I’ve been thinking about it since you told me Wilson said that, and it just doesn’t add up. There’s nothing that says Rocco was even involved in the cocaine deal. So is Wilson going only on a guess?”
I considered what he’d said. “Yeah. Wilson…Well, Wilson isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, is he?” Actually, Wilson wasn’t erudite, but he was pretty good at self-preservation, if nothing else. I wanted to see if Luther agreed.
He chuckled a bit. “No, but Big Bob always liked him. He said Wilson had potential, but nobody could see it. That was exactly the kind of thing Big Bob would say.”
It was funny: I’d never met Big Bob Benicio, and hadn’t even heard of him until he’d been dead for two years. But after talking to everyone I could find who had been part of his life, I felt like I knew him a little. And it was starting to really annoy me that someone had killed him.
“He was quite a guy, wasn’t he?” I asked.
Luther’s head rolled back a little as he remembered. “He sure was. Bob and I were about the same age, but I always felt like he was sort of a little brother. I met him when we were just about twenty-two or twenty-three, and we just saw the world the same way. It hurts when someone like that gets taken away from you.”
“So, gut feeling: Who do you think killed Big Bob?”
His nostalgic smile went away. Luther looked away from me and made a face that indicated he’d been over this subject a million times in his mind and still couldn’t put it to rest. “If I had to guess right now, I’d say it was somebody we haven’t thought of yet. Someone who really needed to get that cocaine and really didn’t care what he had to do to get it.”
That was the moment my stomach dropped. I stood up and started toward the den, which is the largest room in the house. Someone must be in there.
Old Haunts Page 24
