by J. C. Eaton
“I don’t think that’s such a great idea, Aunt Ina.” Dear Lord, she’s really taking this Miss Havisham thing seriously. Next time I go over to her place I’m getting rid of any candles she has in that house. “Try it on later. Look, how about if I call my mom and you can spend some time with her. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
My aunt grudgingly agreed and I told my mother to expect her sister in a few minutes. While I was on the cell phone with my mother, Nate made a few quick calls of his own. Once we were both sure my aunt could make the four-mile drive to my mother’s house without incident, we headed back to the office.
“This isn’t looking too good, Phee. I didn’t want to say anything in front of your aunt, but the police think there’s a link between Louis Melinsky and Roland LeDoux. And I don’t mean the fact that Roland was catering the wedding. Damn it all. Now I really need to run that background check.”
“Did they say when you could get into the house?”
“Not yet. I’ve got to call that number the patrol officer gave me to make the arrangements. Look, I’m sure they’ll want this thing resolved as quickly as possible. If word gets out in Sun City Grand that there was a murderer living right under everyone’s nose, it would wreak havoc, just like the Theodore Sizemore case is doing in your mother’s neighborhood.”
“I didn’t mean to add to your caseload, Nate.”
“Nah. Like I said before, you shouldn’t worry about it. One thing’s pretty clear to me, though. I’ve been putting it off, but I’m going to need to hire another investigator for the firm. Who on earth knew we’d be so inundated with all these cases? Don’t get me wrong, that’s a good thing. A great thing. It’s paying the bills. But I want to do the work as timely and efficiently as possible. And I hate turning anyone away. So . . . come this summer, I intend to add a partner to Williams Investigations.”
“Do you have anyone in mind or will you be, as they say, ‘casting a wide net’?”
“I guess a little of both. Don’t look so alarmed. I’ll make sure whoever it is fits in with us and our style, whatever that is.”
I gave him a quick nod. “Um, how do you suppose Roland LeDoux’s motorcycle got into Louis’s garage?”
“Louis might have been borrowing it. Maybe he even bought it. Who knows? Maybe Roland needed a place to store it.”
“What about the keys? They were found with Roland’s body.”
“One set was. He probably had another. Probably gave them to Louis. Think about it. Roland was found in the ditch with no bike in sight. Could be he never drove the bike there and got another ride in.”
“Come to think of it, when the sheriff’s deputy questioned the staff at Saveur de Evangeline the other night, he mentioned Roland’s car was parked in front of his condo near Phoenix. In front. No mention of a garage. Maybe Roland was worried that someone was going to steal his motorcycle and he needed a place to keep it.”
“Yes and no. I mean, that does make sense, but why have an expensive bike like a Ducati if you’re not going to use it? It’s been my experience people who own motorcycles want to spend as much time on them as possible. Not keep them stored in a garage.”
“I forgot to ask. Where’s the bike now? Did the police officer tell you?”
“Roland’s motorcycle was taken to a forensics lab in Phoenix. They’re testing it for prints and blood. Louis’s car, by the way, was tucked in the back of the garage with a tarp over it. Unless he owns more than one car. Doesn’t look good.”
“For my aunt Ina’s sake, I hope they don’t find anything.”
“Me too. Listen, are you as famished as I am? It’s midafternoon and I haven’t had anything except coffee. Let’s get a burger or something.”
“You don’t have to ask twice. I can’t tell if my stomach is in knots over this mess or I’m just hungry and too wired to notice.”
We stopped at Wendy’s on Bell Road, partway between Sun City Grand and our office. No sooner did they shout out that our order was ready than Nate got a call from Augusta.
“Must be my lucky day, Phee. The medical examiner’s office called to let me know they were e-mailing me a copy of Theodore Sizemore’s autopsy report. Guess the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office gave them the clearance to send it my way.”
“Did Augusta mention if they told her anything else?”
“Nope. Short and sweet. Give me a second and I’ll pull up the report on my phone.”
I wondered how on earth we ever managed before iPhones and the Internet. It seemed as if they had always been a part of our lives, even though that wasn’t the case. I bit the tip off a French fry as I tried to read Nate’s face.
“Huh. The coroner was right all along. Mr. Sizemore died of trauma to his head caused by a heavy object or a fast-moving one. It was enough to knock him out and send him flying into the river rocks.”
“So someone must have been waiting in the semidarkness for him to approach that particular spot where the golf course is bordered by those rocks.”
“Yep! A fast pitch and it was all over. Impossible to figure out which of those river rocks was the weapon. Very clever of the killer. No doubt whoever it was took the shortcut through Wanda and Dolores’s side yard so it wouldn’t be a far walk to the car they had parked. If Louise Munson was right, I need to track down a Lexus with an angry grill. That’s almost as bad as sifting through rocks.”
“Seriously, how are you going to go about that?”
“I’m not. I’m going to let Herb Garrett do it for me.”
“What?”
“You heard me. That guy makes the National Security Agency look like a bunch of amateurs. If anyone can ask around and figure out who’s driving that kind of Lexus, I’m certain it’s Herb Garrett.”
We finished our meal and got back to the office within the hour. I tackled some bills and filing while Nate spent the rest of the afternoon in his office, presumably tracking down more leads. Since I had lost out on swimming last night, I really wanted to make up for it. And I would have done so had I not felt so guilty about sending Aunt Ina to my mother’s house.
I supposed it wouldn’t hurt if I stopped over there on my way home. Knowing my mom and my aunt, I figured they’d still be talking or, at the very least, my mother would be talking and my aunt would be sobbing into one of her floral handkerchiefs.
Chapter 15
My God! The lineup of cars on my mother’s street signaled one of two things—a card game or calling hours. I knew it wasn’t an estate sale or the cars would be wrapped around the block. Plus, they were mostly Buicks, the book club car of choice. It had to be her friends offering shoulders to cry on, sugary snacks to devour, and similar tales of woe for my aunt Ina to absorb.
“Phee!” my mother announced as soon as she opened the front door. “Come on in. You know Shirley and Lucinda. And, of course, Louise, Myrna, and Cecilia.”
“Um . . . Hi, everyone!”
I had been to funerals more upbeat than this gathering. The ladies were huddled around the coffee table in my mother’s living room, taking up every chair, love seat, and couch space. Streetman was under the table and stuck his head out once when he heard me move a kitchen chair closer to him. Aunt Ina was sitting right in front in the large La-Z-Boy recliner looking as if she was about to burst into tears at any given moment.
“Help yourself to something to eat.” My mother shoved a paper plate at me. “We’ve got cheese, crackers, cold cuts, fruit, nuts, and some frozen filled pastries that were in my freezer. You can give Streetman some cheese and crackers but no fruit or nuts.”
“You feed him table scraps?”
“I’d hardly call my canapés table scraps. Besides, I don’t want him to feel left out. He has enough problems.”
Like given to believe he’s not a dog.
Glancing at the table, I saw there was enough food for the next three months of book club meetings. Everyone had a plate in front of them, except my aunt. She had a box of Kleenex. Apparently her han
dkerchief could only do so much.
I took a few pieces of fruit and some nuts, making it a point to avoid the frozen pastries. Scientists working in Siberia had uncovered mammals that had been frozen for less time than my mother’s pastries.
“Have you heard any news, Phee?” Lucinda brushed off some cracker crumbs from her blouse and the dog devoured them as soon as they hit the floor.
I shook my head just as an annoying beep went off. Everyone looked around but no one seemed to know where it was coming from.
Shirley stood and craned her neck in every conceivable direction. “Do you need to replace the batteries in your smoke detectors, Harriet?”
“No. I had the fire department put in those five-year lithium ones for me last year.”
“What about your microwave? Is something in there?”
“No.”
Then the annoying beep went off again. This time I was the one who jumped. It seemed to be coming from the recliner.
“Aunt Ina,” I said. “Is that your cell phone?”
“No. My cell phone plays a lovely melody.”
BEEP! The sound went off again.
“Check your phone, Aunt Ina. I swear that’s where the noise is coming from.”
My aunt leaned over to the side of the chair where she had placed her bag. She retrieved the cell phone.
“No phone calls. See for yourself.”
I scanned her apps and sure enough there was a notation on her message icon.
“You’ve got a message, Aunt Ina. On Messenger.”
“What? What’s that? I don’t use that.”
“Well, someone set you up for Messenger. It’s a service. Check it out.”
My aunt tapped the icon and sure enough, someone had sent her a message. “IT’S FROM LOUIS. It has to be Louis. It says ‘Darling.’ No one calls me that but him.”
“Read it, Ina,” my mother shouted. “No one cares what he calls you. What’s it say?”
“It says ‘I am no longer safe. Must deal with this. I know who killed—’”
“Who killed who, Aunt Ina? What does he say?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. The message just disappeared. I was pressing down on it and then my finger slipped and I was still pressing and . . .”
She shoved the phone at me as if we were playing “hot potato.”
“Oh no. Oh no, no, no. You erased it, Aunt Ina.”
“Well, get it back. Get the message back.”
“It doesn’t work that way. It’s not like it can go into a delete file like e-mail.”
My aunt reached for the Kleenex box, took out a handful of tissues, and blew into them all at once.
“At least you know he’s alive, Ina.” Myrna helped herself to a handful of nuts.
My aunt looked up from the crumpled tissues in her hand and stared straight ahead. I don’t think I’d seen a better performance since Greer Garson rushed into Ronald Coleman’s arms in Random Harvest.
“How will I ever manage not knowing what has become of my poor Louis?”
I wanted to say something but chose to bite down on my lower lip instead. If what Louis Melinsky said was true, then whoever killed Roland LeDoux and/or Theodore Sizemore might be after him as well. And what better way to start than to frame him for a murder by putting that motorcycle in his garage. Is that what Louis saw that scared the daylights out of him and made him take off? It had to be.
Darn it, Aunt Ina. Of all messages to erase. Now we’ll never know which killer Louis can identify.
As if all this drama wasn’t enough for my aunt, the ladies couldn’t help but make it worse. A barrage of comments, suggestions, and well-meaning intentions were offered up like Halloween candy to innocent kids.
Cecilia started it by reaching over and touching my aunt on the wrist. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right in your house tonight, Ina?”
Lucinda didn’t help things out by brushing Cecilia aside to offer her own wisdom. “What if they come looking for Louis and mistake you instead?”
But the worst of all was when Myrna had to put her two cents in. “Maybe you should borrow a dog. A big barking dog. Not Harriet’s dog. No offense, Harriet, but I think the best that dog of yours can do in an emergency is pee on the floor. I can call the Canine Companions Club and see if anyone can loan you their dog.”
My mother was aghast. “I’ll have you know Streetman happens to be an excellent watchdog. I know immediately if someone is coming. And for your information, he doesn’t pee on the floor. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. My sister can stay with me if she wants. I have the guest room.”
“That won’t be necessary, Harriet,” my aunt replied. “I’ll be fine. I have an alarm system. If I get too nervous, I can always stay with Phee.”
Stay with me? What? How did that happen?
By the grace of God, my aunt decided to stay in her own house, but not before having me drive back to Sun City Grand and check her house for any signs of possible intruders. By the time I was done looking under the beds, inside the closets, and behind curtains, I was too exhausted to even consider an evening swim. Instead, I took a long shower as soon as I got home and opened a pouch of ready-made tuna salad. I was in bed before the nightly news at nine.
Pulling the lightweight cotton sheets up to my neck, I reached over to turn off the lamp. My fingers had barely touched the pull string when my cell phone rang. I had gotten into the habit of keeping the phone near my bed in case of an emergency. This was one of those times when I was relieved I didn’t have to walk across a room to answer it.
“Miss Kimball? Is that you? Sorry it’s so late. I hope I didn’t wake you. It’s Rochelle from La Petite Pâtisserie.”
“That’s okay. I’m awake.”
“I thought you’d want to know Mr. Melinsky left Julien a message saying that no matter what, La Petite Pâtisserie was to go ahead with the wedding pastries. He also paid the estimated bill in its entirety, plus additional monies to cover any unexpected costs. Actually, he transferred quite a bit of additional money electronically, according to my boss.”
“Is that why you’re calling me? Did this just happen?”
“No. The message was from earlier today. I called because the police left here a few minutes ago after questioning Julien. I’m still at work. Julien, Antoine, and I stay late most nights to prepare the fruit sauces.”
“What happened? Why were the police questioning Julien?”
“I’m not sure exactly. They sent officers from Surprise, where Saveur de Evangeline is located, and another officer from here in Scottsdale. Julien was a wreck. It sounded as if the police might have found some incriminating evidence that connected Julien to Roland. Julien wouldn’t say what. He stormed out of here a few minutes ago yelling for Antoine and me to clean up.”
“Wow. That doesn’t sound good for Julien.”
“I know. I know. It’s been a horrific night. We were almost done with the raspberry filling when the police knocked on the door. Like I said, the three of us were the only ones here. The hourly employees went home earlier today. Anyway, when Julien let the officers in, it must have caught Antoine off guard because, the next thing I knew, he dropped an entire saucepan on the floor. Julien called him all sorts of names in French. Anyway, you can’t believe the mess it made. Plus, Antoine and I now have to start all over again. But none of this is really why I called you.”
“So, um . . .”
“Look, I called because . . . well, whatever you do, Miss Kimball, please don’t tell Julien I was at Saveur de Evangeline and that I—”
I could tell by the way her voice cracked that she was really nervous. Almost too nervous regarding the possibility her boss would find out she’d been offered another job and was poised to take it. Of course, that was before Roland LeDoux died of a snakebite.
“Don’t worry, Rochelle. I fully intend to keep my word. Oh, and one more thing. If you hear from Mr. Melinsky again, please call me. I don’t care how early or how late it is. All r
ight?”
“Sure. Of course. Thanks, Miss Kimball. And don’t worry about your aunt’s pastries. I can assure you everything will be fine.”
So much for drifting off into a peaceful night’s sleep. I was now fully awake and deciding whether or not to call my aunt Ina and let her know about the message La Petite Pâtisserie got from her fiancé. I rationalized that if it were me and I had no idea where my future husband was hiding out, if indeed he was hiding out, I would want to know the wedding was still on.
My fingers tapped the numbers quickly and I waited for Aunt Ina to answer. Instead, the call went to voice mail. She either had pushed the mute button on her phone or wasn’t within earshot. What I didn’t figure was that she’d decided to drive back over to Louis’s house and let herself in.
Chapter 16
Had I been in a blissful REM sleep, I might have incorporated the sound of my cell phone into whatever dream I was having. Instead, I had fallen into a deep sleep. So deep in fact that when that repetitive blast of music went off, I rolled over, my head colliding with the hard wooden nightstand. I was disoriented, groggy, and unable to remember what day it was. Or was about to be.
The one thing I did know was the noise was coming from my cell phone. I took the call immediately, hoping I would snap out of the fog that seemed to engulf me. Across the room, the numerals on the digital clock said three fifty-four. Who the heck calls someone at three fifty-four? I was starting to regain my wits and thought perhaps it was someone back in Minnesota who forgot about the time difference. Still, anything before eight was an outrage.
“Hello?” I sounded tentative, not knowing what to expect.
“Good! You’re up. You need to meet me before the police come back.”
“Wha . . . what? Who is this?”
“It’s your aunt Ina, Phee, and I’m in Louis’s dining room. Get over here. The police are gone for the night, but they may send a car over in the morning. That’s a few hours from now.”
