I nodded my head. “Of course, Mark.” I gave him my most innocent look. “Cross my heart.”
For once, I was telling the complete truth.
I had no reason to get involved with any police investigation. I had my own investigation to pursue.
And we’d see who cracked the case first.
Chapter 37
One nice thing about egotists: they don’t talk about other people.
“I’ll finish cleaning up, Jim,” I said. “You must be exhausted after all those hours standing in front of a gas grill.”
My hubby gave me a playful swat on my keester with a damp dish towel. “Very funny. I get your message, loud and clear. You womenfolk not only plan the meal, shop for the ingredients, and cook the meal, but then you magically make the kitchen sparkle. All before you go to bed. And without breaking a sweat. Whereas we guys are mere mortals, destined to only do one task, and then collapse.”
Close, but not quite what I was getting at.
“You forgot one important thing,” I said to Jim. “We accomplish this Herculean task every single day, without any applause from our captive audience. And without complaining.”
“I get it. I get it,” Jim said, laughing. “You are a domestic goddess beyond compare. And I am very grateful for the manner in which you have kept my castle for the last several decades.” He gave me a mock bow. “Tomorrow I’ll go out and buy you a crown.”
Now it was my turn to swat him.
“Oh, go to bed,” I said, laughing. “No crown is necessary. I’d have to go out and buy myself a whole new wardrobe to match it. And you know you wouldn’t like that!”
Jim gave me a smooch on the cheek and shuffled off toward the bedroom, followed closely by Lucy and Ethel. I hoped they didn’t sprawl all over the bed like they usually did and leave no room for me.
I took my time drying the wine glasses. They can’t be washed in the dishwasher, and whatever possessed me to buy them, I’ll never know. I had one ear cocked to the sounds of Jim getting himself to bed. I was waiting for the snoring to start, so I’d know that he was really out cold.
In less than ten minutes, I heard my husband’s unmistakable, rhythmic snore. And I headed toward my other favorite late-night date, my computer.
As the machine hummed to life, I pondered my options. So many possibilities for an Internet search. Finnegan’s Rakes, and the man himself, were right at the top of my list. Along with Mallory and Mallory Funeral Home and its family of owners, Helen K., and, yes, let’s be honest here. Isaac Weichert. I was really curious to check him out, to be sure Mary Alice wasn’t getting involved with a creep.
Because, there was no doubt about it. My shy friend was definitely getting involved. I had seen the looks she sent in his direction when she didn’t think I was watching.
Was he really as nice as he seemed? And what about his surprising connection to Will Finnegan’s death?
I shook my head to clear it.
Isaac’s a paramedic, for heaven’s sake. It was just a freaky coincidence that he and his partner, the lovely Pam, happened to answer the Finnegan emergency call.
Then, there was Jack Finnegan, and Will’s widow, Louisa. I wondered if I could find out anything about them online.
And what about Deanna and her daughter? I’d known Deanna for years, and yet I never knew she had a secret daughter. I wondered what other things she’d been hiding.
Don’t go there unless you absolutely have to. Who knows what else you might unearth?
I nodded my head. I do give myself good advice. And sometimes, I even take it.
I checked the time on my computer. Almost midnight. Maybe it was too early to contact Mike and get him on the job. His Miami bar and restaurant, Cosmo’s, didn’t close until 1:00 in the morning.
I yawned. The only times I ever stayed up that late was when I was cramming for a final exam.
I yawned again. Maybe it was too late to do any sleuthing. I was exhausted.
I put the computer on sleep, and decided that’s what I needed to do, too. Tomorrow morning would be here in a flash, and I was usually more brilliant after a quick shot of caffeine.
That’s when I noticed my own phone, perched on the side of the desk. Odd. Since I’ve joined the texting generation, I rarely let it out of my sight. I’m so afraid I’m going to miss something important that requires an immediate response.
Like a fifty percent off sale at the local shoe store.
One text was waiting for me. It had arrived about 10:30, while Jim and I were cleaning up the kitchen.
Got something in mail 2day from Will. Don’t know what 2 do. Need ur help!
Louisa Marino (a.k.a. Finnegan)
Rats. I’d never get to sleep now.
Chapter 38
If swimming is good for your figure, how do you explain whales?
“You’re up bright and early this morning, Carol,” Jim said, heading toward the kitchen island with the morning paper tucked under his arm. “I figured you’d want to sleep in this morning. What time did you finally come to bed?”
I placed a cup of coffee in Jim’s general vicinity—not too close to the newspaper, of course. I didn’t want to risk upsetting a coffee cup.
Or, come to think of it, upsetting a husband.
“I didn’t stay up too late,” I responded. “Just long enough to check my e-mails to see if I’d heard from Mike.” I managed the crestfallen mommy look with no difficulty whatsoever. “Of course, there were none. I miss him.”
Jim grunted from behind the newspaper, which I took as an agreement. “I know. You miss him, too. We really should plan a trip to Florida sometime soon to see him.”
Jim’s hand snaked out from behind the newspaper, headed toward the coffee. Then disappeared behind the paper again.
“This is pretty good coffee,” he said after a minute.
“Almost as good as yours,” I said.
“So, what are you up to today, Carol?”
I chose my words carefully. “I got a text last night from a woman I met recently, Louisa Marino. She wants to get together today. You don’t know her.”
Because, if you did, you’d put me under temporary house arrest.
I didn’t really say that last part, of course.
Then, I had a sudden inspiration. “But you’d probably recognize her. Louisa’s the choir director at St. Ambrose Church. You know how beautiful the music is there.”
“Maybe she’ll be a good influence on you,” my husband said. “Being associated with a church.”
Staying married for a long time often requires selective hearing. So instead of responding to Jim’s crack with one of my usual zingers, I ignored it.
“It was too late to answer Louisa last night. I’d better text her back now and tell her I’m available any time today. And we have plenty of leftovers from last night, so you don’t have to worry about your supper.”
“That was an interesting dinner party last night,” Jim said, lowering the newspaper and giving me the full benefit of a husbandly stare. “I was proud of you for letting Mark ask the questions about the Finnegan case, without jumping in with some of your own.”
“What a strange coincidence,” I said. “I never imagined that Mary Alice’s new beau could be involved in Will Finnegan’s death. I wonder what happened at the police station last night.”
“Knowing you, you’ll have all the details before noon,” Jim said.
I took that remark as a compliment.
My hand was jammed into my sweat pants pocket, fingering my phone. I was getting antsy. Enough of the small talk. Time to text Louisa Marino back and find out what was up.
“Well, I’m off to take a quick shower,” I said, pulling the newspaper down to be sure Jim was paying attention.
“I’ll feed the dogs and walk them,” Jim said. “Give me a
holler when you’re through with your shower.”
I nodded and practically sprinted toward the master bedroom, closed the door, and pulled out my phone.
Me: Got ur text. What did you get from Will? I can meet you anytime 2day.
Carol A.
Ping! An immediate response. Louisa must have been as anxious as I was to make contact.
Louisa: Come 2 my house. 2 complicated 2 explain by text. Can u b here at 10?
Me: Okay.
I might even be early. I can hardly wait to see what your dead husband mailed to you.
I didn’t really text her that last part. Of course.
I got to Louisa’s house in record time. Thank goodness Fairport’s finest weren’t cruising around the beach area on the lookout for speeders to increase their monthly quota of traffic tickets. I wasn’t sure my son-in-law would make an effort to minimize my fine.
Especially if he knew where I was headed. And why.
The door swung open as I started to knock, revealing Jack Finnegan on the other side. I jumped back at the sudden sight of him. His close resemblance to his dead brother still gave me the heebie jeebies.
“Come in, Carol,” he said, pulling me inside and shutting the door quickly. “They’re in the kitchen. Everyone’s pretty upset. The kids freaked out when this envelope arrived from Will. It’s like a direct communication from the great beyond.”
“Or a local session of Long Island Medium?” I asked, naming a popular reality television show that I have been known to watch when nobody else is around to criticize my viewing habits.
Jack laughed. “A little bit, I guess.” He immediately turned solemn. “But this is no reality TV show. Hell, I’m not even sure it’s reality, period.”
I followed Jack toward the back of the house, and stopped dead at the doorway to the kitchen. Louisa was at the table, cradling a coffee cup.
And to her right was Deanna.
My facial expression must have mirrored my shock. Jack guided me to a chair and I sank into it. Talk about an unlikely duo—the scorned wife and the long-time girlfriend. Oy vey.
Although I was certain they didn’t lack for conversation topics.
Louisa spoke first. “I really appreciate your coming, Carol,” she said. “I didn’t know who to call when this arrived in yesterday’s mail.” She pushed a brown envelope across the table toward me. “I understand you’ve had some experience solving mysteries. This certainly is a mystery.”
Not quite as much as you and Deanna sitting here having coffee like BFFs. But close.
You know by now that I didn’t really say that, right?
I realized that I had better be darn careful how I handled the envelope and whatever was inside. There could be fingerprints, and I didn’t want to compromise them. I should bring the envelope directly to the police.
Of course, I had absolutely no intention of doing that. But I wanted to assure you that the thought did cross my mind. Briefly.
All right. Very briefly. And then I dismissed it. After all, Louisa and Jack had handled the envelope already, as well as the mail carrier and heaven knew how many others in the postal service.
Still, I did put my black leather gloves back on before I picked up the envelope. Just to be safe.
The envelope had been mailed ten days ago from Fairport, and had no return address or name. It was addressed to Louisa Finnegan, 240 Fairport Beach Road, Fairport. The post office had crossed out the address and marked it as “Undeliverable. Not at this address.”
I looked at Louisa. I was confused. “Why did this take so long to get to you?” I asked. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m Louisa Marino now,” she reminded me. “We had a substitute mail carrier last week, and the name ‘Louisa Finnegan’ meant nothing to him. He must have returned the envelope to the post office. When our regular mailman came back from vacation, he figured it out and delivered it to me yesterday.”
I nodded. That made some sense.
I opened the envelope, very carefully, and a key fell out, along with a scribbled note.
Louisa, I know you think I have treated you and the children badly the last several years, and you’re right. I have. I want to make it up to you. Use the enclosed key to find out how. Go to Box 701 at the Fairport Post Office. You’ll find two items there. Take the one marked with your name. Please leave the other one for my good friend, Deanna. Say goodbye to the children for me. I’ll miss you all.
Your husband, Will
I looked at Louisa, and noted that Jack was standing right behind her. His hands were resting on her shoulders.
Deanna spoke before I had a chance to say anything. Which was a darn good thing, because I didn’t know what to say.
“It’s my turn now.” She looked at Louisa, as if asking permission. Louisa nodded. “Go ahead. You’re certainly part of this, too.”
Deanna reached into her handbag and pulled out an identical brown envelope. Except that this one had the name “Deanna” written on it.
“I went to Will’s condo last night to look for some personal items I had left there.” Her face turned red with obvious embarrassment.
“Will and I had been separated for years,” Louisa reminded Deanna. “Whatever you say isn’t going to hurt me now.”
Deanna took a deep breath, then continued with her story. “I wanted to be quick, in case that horrible police detective, Paul Wheeler, happened to stop in. I didn’t want to be accused of breaking and entering. Although there was no police tape across the doorway. And I do have a key.”
“And then?” I asked, shifting in my chair. “What about the envelope? Where did you find it?”
“I’m getting to that, Carol,” Deanna snapped back. “It was very emotional for me to be there, in case you haven’t figured that out.”
I sat back, properly reprimanded.
“Anyway, I pulled a few clothes from the closet,” Deanna said, “and then I decided to check the top dresser drawer.” She colored again. “That was my designated drawer. Will didn’t want my things mixed up with his.
“I opened the drawer, and the envelope was right on top of my…things.” She pushed the envelope toward me. “Open it, and read the letter.”
Once again, my conscience pricked at me. And once again, I ignored it.
I shook the envelope, and another key, identical to the one in Louisa’s envelope, dropped onto the table. Along with a note. This one was typed, however.
My darling Deanna: By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Life in Fairport has become much too complicated, and although I will miss you terribly, I believe that you will realize that my leaving is for the best. Especially for you. You are a wonderful woman and I do not deserve your love. I want to leave you something to remember me by. Take the enclosed key to Box 701at the Fairport Post Office. You may find two items there. Please take the one with your name on it, and leave the other one inside, to be picked up by my wife. I’ll always love you, even if I didn’t show it enough.
Will
Silence can be deafening. It certainly was in Louisa’s kitchen at that moment. Jack, Louisa, Deanna, and I were as still as four statues, staring at the two identical post office box keys.
Finally, Deanna spoke again. “I grabbed the envelope and my clothes and got out of Will’s condo as fast as I could. I was so upset. I didn’t think Will could hurt me any more than he already had. But he was planning to leave me! To leave me, after all these years. I couldn’t believe it.” She shook her head. “The louse.”
Louise covered Deanna’s hands with her own. “I know how you feel.”
Then she turned to me. “Deanna called me when she got back to Crimpers last night and told me what she had found. We decided it was time to get you involved, Carol. You’re the only one we trust to figure this whole mess out. You’ll help us, won’t you? Please?”
“Who wants to drive?” I asked.
“Where are we going?” Deanna asked.
“To the Fairport Post Office, of course. You’ve got mail.”
Chapter 39
I’m having an out-of-money experience.
“I forgot there were so many school buses in Fairport,” I groused as we were stopped behind still another set of flashing red lights. “How come the students got out so early?”
“It’s a half day, because the teachers have some sort of in-service program this afternoon,” Deanna said.
I looked at her, surprised that she knew that since she had no children in the Fairport school system. At least, none that I knew of.
“I had three mothers call me in a panic late yesterday,” Deanna explained. “They needed to reschedule their hair appointments because their children would be home early. But in the long run, it worked out well for me, because I was able to close the salon for a few hours.”
She frowned. “I seem to be doing a lot of that lately. I hope I don’t lose any customers because of my erratic schedule. Heaven knows, I could never afford that.”
“I think I see a parking spot across the street from the post office,” Louisa said to Jack, who had insisted on doing the driving for our little adventure.
I sure hoped so. We four were packed in like sardines in the Finnegan’s Rakes truck, and it was incredibly uncomfortable. Especially for me. Because I had the shortest legs, I was smushed in the center of the front seat, and every time Jack had to shift, well, I’m sure you get the picture. And if you don’t, I’m not going to draw it for you.
Remember, I went to Catholic school.
We piled out of the truck like the Keystone cops, and as soon as there was a break in the traffic on Fairport Turnpike, ran across the busy road, holding hands like kindergarteners.
Funerals Can Be Murder (A Baby Boomer Mystery Book 5) Page 19
