Ditched 4 Murder

by J. C. Eaton

  At the sound of the words “Ina” and “police,” I was no longer in an amorphous state. Whatever neurons were in my brain, they had started to make connections.

  “Aunt Ina! What on earth are you doing there? In the middle of the night no less? And at a crime scene?”

  “I couldn’t sleep, Phee. This isn’t like my Louis, to disappear. You saw that message. He’s a witness to one of those murders. I’m scrounging around for evidence. Too many papers in here. I need some help. So are you going to come over or what?”

  “First of all, we don’t know for sure he was an actual witness. All he said was that he knows who murdered . . . well, whoever it was. And speaking of Louis, I tried to call you but it went to voice mail.”

  “When? Why? What do you know about Louis?”

  I told her about my conversation with Rochelle from La Petite Pâtisserie and the fact Louis Melinsky paid for the “delectable aviary pastries” and then some.

  “My darling, darling Louis. How could I ever think he was going to leave me at the altar? It’s just as I feared. He’s in some terrible danger. That’s why I came over here. You have got to help me, Phee. I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but it must be something. Hurry up.”

  I’d been on scavenger hunts before, but we always had a list. I had to admit, this was a first. Sneaking into someone’s house with absolutely no idea of what we were looking for or hoping to find. Then again, knowing my aunt Ina, that wasn’t so altogether unusual.

  “It’s going to take me at least a half hour, maybe a bit longer, to drive from Peoria to Surprise.”

  “Fine. Fine. That should still give us a good hour or so before dawn. Ring the bell. Don’t knock. Knocking makes too much noise.”

  Slipping into shorts and a top, I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. I allowed myself less than a minute to put on some tinted sunscreen, lip gloss, and blush before giving my hair a quick brush. It really didn’t matter. No one was going to see me except Aunt Ina. I was so exhausted last night I had fallen asleep with my small gold posts still in my ears. Hurray. One less thing to do.

  Louis Melinsky’s block looked like one of those movie scenes where all of the inhabitants had been destroyed by some alien force and only the buildings were left standing. There wasn’t a single movement. Nothing. The streetlights, strategically placed above the mailboxes, illuminated intermittent portions of the street.

  I had memorized the house number and pulled up in front of the driveway. My aunt’s car was parked on the other side of it. Thankfully the streetlights weren’t on Louis’s side of the block. At first I thought of parking in front of someone else’s house, but I figured if they looked out and got suspicious, they might call the police. It was four forty-eight and I was in a hurry to get this over with.

  The outside house lights were off and my aunt had every single plantation shutter closed tight. I couldn’t even detect a glow from the room lights. At least the solar walkway lights were working and I made it to the front door without stumbling over something. I rang the bell and held my breath. My aunt would open the interior door but keep the ornate security door locked until she was certain it was me.

  “Is that you, Phee?” she whispered, barely cracking open the door.

  “Yes. Now hurry up and let me inside.”

  I had barely taken a step into the foyer when she closed both doors and locked them.

  “Come on. You need to see something. I can’t make sense of any of this,” she said as I walked into the dimly lit dining room. “I’ve been all through this hutch of his. This is where he keeps his papers, but none of them have anything to do with his disappearance or those murders.”

  “What were you expecting to find?”

  “Well, obviously something more helpful than his dental records. His teeth, by the way, are his own and they’re in excellent shape.”

  Terrific. Teeth. In excellent shape. “Um, I seriously think that if Louis had important papers or documents, he wouldn’t keep them in an open hutch. Even one with a key. Most likely he’s got a fire safe box somewhere. Did you check his closets?”

  My aunt rubbed the nape of her neck. “No, not yet. I got distracted. First I checked his phone messages. Only one call, from the Lexus dealer. His car is due for an oil change this month. There were other calls but no messages. I don’t think the police checked his answering machine, because the red light was still blinking. Then I went over to the hutch to see if he left any notes in there. I wound up looking at these old photos of when Louis played the saxophone for one of the cruise lines. See how young he was?”

  My aunt handed me a stack of old photos that were held together by a rubber band.

  “Where did you find these?”

  “In one of the small hutch drawers, why?”

  “Just curious.” One by one I flipped through them. The dates on the backs ranged from the 1980s to a few years ago. Probably before everyone had a camera on their smartphone. The cruise ships were named as well. The Emerald Odyssey, Emerald Oasis, Emerald of the Seas, and the Emerald Star. At least if you were going to work for a cruise line, you might as well pick the most expensive one.

  Most of the photos showed Louis playing with one band or another. A few looked as if they were taken in the gambling casino with lots of slot machines in the background. Then there was one that was taken at a baccarat table. Someone must have snapped it while Louis was putting some chips in front of a few cards. The man seated to his right looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen that face. He’d be a lot older now, but his features wouldn’t have changed that much. A taller man in a tuxedo was seated on the left.

  “Aunt Ina, did Louis ever show you these pictures?”

  “No. That’s why I started to look at them. Why?”

  “Take a look at this one. Do you recognize those two men?”

  “Goodness! That’s Roland LeDoux. He was a master chef on one of those ships. That’s how he and Louis met.”

  Roland. I thought I recognized him. He looked so much younger in the photo. And his hair was much longer. “What about the other man? The one in the tux?”

  “I have no idea. He sure does look to be the epitome of wealth, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah. Listen, we shouldn’t be standing here looking at old photos. Let’s at least see if Louis left any notes or anything that would indicate where he is.”

  “Good idea, Phee. I’ll look over his desk calendar and any papers I can find in the kitchen. You go scout around for a fire safe box.”

  “I’ll scout, but without a key, it’s not going to help us much.”

  On a hunch, I walked straight toward Louis’s dresser and did the unthinkable. I rummaged through his underwear drawer. It was so cliché, but in all the movies, that was where the missing key was always found.

  Yuck! I can’t believe I’m doing this. Last year it was Dumpster diving, now I’m handling some guy’s boxers. Ugh!

  I kept telling myself they were bound to be clean, but thoughts of frat boys and teenage campers kept springing up in my mind. I tried to stay focused as I shoved the cotton material into a pile on one side of the drawer. Something metallic made a sound. I was right. Right all along. Louis kept a key to his fire safe box in his underwear drawer.

  Immediately I started opening closets and looking for some sort of safe. “Aunt Ina! In here! I’m in the back of his walk-in closet. My God. Your fiancé has more clothes than you do. And don’t get me started on his shoes. Listen, I found the box and I’ve got the key.”

  “It’s five-thirty, Phee. We don’t have much time. The police always show up early the next morning to pick up where they left off the night before. You’ve got to hurry. We’re not supposed to be here. The place is still cordoned off.”

  Terrific. Now all of a sudden she’s worried about being here. Nothing like having to crack open a safe under pressure.

  Louis’s fire safe box was one of the smaller ones. I was able to pick it up and put it on the
bathroom vanity. My hand gave a slight tremor as I turned the key. The box was literally filled to capacity. A passport was lying on top of the documents. My aunt opened it up and announced that it didn’t expire until 2024.

  At least the guy hasn’t left the country.

  As I looked down, I saw what appeared to be IOU notes. Lots of them. Was Louis in so deep that he killed someone so he wouldn’t have to pay them off? Then what was that phone message to my aunt about? Before I could say a word, my aunt grabbed a fistful of notes and began to sift through them. I swear my heart was pounding so fast I thought it was about to break free from my chest.

  “Oh, Phee. This is worse than I imagined.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions, Aunt Ina. We don’t know that Louis is a murderer.”

  “A MURDERER? What are you talking about? Look here. These are IOUs from all sorts of people.”

  She held the notes out for me to see as I tried to make out the names.

  “We don’t have much time, Aunt Ina. Give me a second.”

  I raced back to the dining room and snatched my bag off the table where I had left it. Then I dug for my phone and ran back into the master bathroom. Without wasting a second, I placed the notes across the vanity and snapped a quick photo. “Hurry up. It’s getting close to six.”

  We put everything back in the fire safe box and made sure that it was locked. Then I shoved the key in the underwear drawer and made a mental note to wash my hands as soon as I got home. I’d still have enough time for a quick shower and some coffee before driving to work. My aunt turned off all the lights and we exited through the front door. The street was still quiet. We’d made it.

  As we walked toward our cars, I glanced across the street. Two garages had their doors partially lifted. Maybe a foot or so off the ground. My aunt pointed to something and I tried to figure out what it was. Did she spot a police car at the end of the block?

  I tried squinting, but it didn’t do me any good. “What’s going on? Do you see anything?”

  “I don’t understand why people around here persist on doing that. When Louis and I get married and move to our new house, I’m not going to let him do it there. Or at my place for that matter. Did I mention that Louis will be moving in with me and putting his house on the market as soon as we get married? Well, he is. We are. And I won’t let him do that there.”

  “Do what, Aunt Ina? I don’t see anyone doing anything.”

  “Keeping the garage doors up from the ground. Oh sure, they’ll tell you it’s because they want to cool their garages at night, but I’ll tell you something. That’s how you get snakes and lizards and scorpions and all sorts of things in your house. Put an air conditioner in there if it’s too hot. Better than a rattlesnake.”

  For a split second, I thought of poor Roland LeDoux lying on those rocks, his body all swollen from the snakebite. Then my mind instantly jumped to his motorcycle and I knew without a doubt how it got into Louis Melinsky’s garage. If only my aunt could have offered that explanation to the Surprise police in the first place, we wouldn’t be sneaking around like common thieves.

  “Oh my gosh. I think you’re onto something.” I grabbed her by the wrist. “Everyone on this block probably knew Louis kept his garage door up off the ground. Anyone could have lifted it open and put the motorcycle in there. Especially at night in the dark. Look, I’m going to check over those IOUs as soon as I get a chance at work. I think you were right all along. He’s not a murderer, but he’s being framed and someone’s doing a heck of a good job.”

  Chapter 17

  I’ll say one thing about my morning escapade with Aunt Ina—it sure woke me up. I felt as if I’d swallowed an entire case of energy drinks without having the sudden urge to find a restroom. I couldn’t wait to see what those IOUs said. Maybe they held a clue to Louis’s whereabouts.

  Nate hadn’t arrived in the office yet, and Augusta wasn’t due for an hour or two. I turned on the lights, booted up my computer, and switched on the copy machine before turning my attention to my iPhone. The image wasn’t the greatest, but I could see all but one of the IOUs was written on a notepad from the Emerald Cruise Lines. Not very official looking. Not that I would know anything about gambling markers or IOUs. But shouldn’t those things be notarized? I looked closer.

  No notaries, but each IOU had the same witness, and that meant the two deaths on the rocks had to be linked. I was dying to tell Nate what I had discovered but he’d sent me an e-mail stating he wouldn’t be in until later. It was frustrating to be stuck at my desk when I was on the verge of figuring out who was responsible for Roland’s and Theodore’s deaths. Something else was bothering me as well.

  If Louis Melinsky took the time to leave Julien Rossier a message about the wedding pastries, then what about Saveur de Evangeline and Feltons’ Pavilions, Tents, and Awnings? Maybe they received messages as well.

  Staff was bound to be at Saveur de Evangeline, but I wasn’t so sure they’d be answering the phone. It was too early for the lunch hour, and reservations, as I found out, were handled by a separate automated line. I decided to pay Sebastian a visit when I got out of work. That left “the dreadful tent company,” a reference I’d started to use as well. I lifted the receiver and placed the call.

  “Yeah, Everett here at Feltons’ Pavilions, Tents, and Awnings. What can I do for you?”

  “Hi, Mr. Felton. This is Phee Kimball. I was in the other day to pick out the fabric for my aunt Ina’s wedding.”

  “Oh yeah. The rock ditch affair at the White Tanks. Sure gave my brother a scare. Dead body and all. He was so shook up he left work early that day and didn’t bother to get his butt in here till the next afternoon. Probably drank himself silly. So, like I said, what can I do for you?”

  “Um, actually . . . I was wondering if by any chance Mr. Melinsky called you recently to confirm the pavilion.”

  “Nope. No calls. He paid the whole shebang, though. Got the money transfer yesterday. So we’re all set, right?”

  “Yes. We’re fine.”

  “Good. Jake’s gonna get back in touch with you a week or so before. Gotta make sure the setup is what you want.”

  Suddenly I had the opening I was looking for—a way to find out what had happened between “the tent people” and Roland LeDoux. It happened years ago, but people had been known to hold grudges right up to their deathbeds.

  “Gee, Mr. Felton, won’t you have to work out the details with Saveur de Evangeline?”

  “Yeah. Suppose we do. At least that jackass Roland is out of the picture. Oh, sorry. Excuse my mouth.”

  “Did you and Mr. LeDoux have some sort of falling out?”

  “Falling out? It wasn’t like we were friends or anything. That jerk was working a wedding a number of years back and we were setting up the pavilion. He claimed one of my men messed with their food preparation truck so the refrigeration would get all screwed up. Blamed us for not being able to cater the meal like they planned. Threatened a damn lawsuit, too.”

  “Oh my, I had no idea. Do you remember who that was? The man they accused?”

  “Sure. He quit right after that and left us high and dry till we could get another grunt to set up the tents.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Tony. Tony something. A real piece of work. Shouldn’t’ve hired him in the first place, but it ain’t like people were busting down the doors to pitch heavy tents in the heat. This Tony guy worked a number of jobs before he landed on our stoop. Carpenter. Painter. Short-order cook. Even window washer. I’ll give him that much, the guy was no freeloading mooch like you see today. Used his sweat to earn his money.”

  Tony. I remembered seeing that name. It was on a photo hanging in Everett’s office. For the life of me, I couldn’t picture the guy. All I remembered was someone named Little Hank, who was larger than most pro wrestlers. Well, no wonder there was some animosity between the restaurant and the tent company.

  “Well, thanks for your time, Mr. Felton. Call me if
you need to get in touch.”

  I wasn’t sure if he said “yep” or let out some sort of a groan. Either way, the call ended.

  My regular work consumed me, as usual, and by the time Augusta walked in, I was ready for a break. We made ourselves each a cup of coffee and stood around the machine when I had a thought.

  “Augusta, do you know anything about gambling markers?”

  “The only thing I know is from those old gangster movies where someone has to call in their markers.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Means the person who’s holding the note wants his or her money back real quick.”

  “And if not?”

  “Then they usually threaten to kill the guy who owes them. Why? You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?”

  “No. Of course not. I don’t even gamble. Unless you count Bingo. Then I suppose I do. Anyway, I came across something that might have to do with Roland LeDoux’s death. Trouble is, I can’t tell anyone where I found it. This . . . this . . . piece of evidence might put someone else in harm’s way. Darn it. I wish Nate would get back soon.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it. Wish I were more help, Phee.”

  “You’re fine. At least I know now that owing money could be a motive for murder. You’d think it would be the other way around. I mean, why kill someone if you want them to pay you? A dead person’s not going to come up with the money.”

  “Maybe all they wanted to do was threaten whoever owed them. Not kill them. And maybe things got carried away.”

  I took a large gulp of coffee and winced. Maybe Louis Melinsky had called in his markers. The guy paid for the wedding but maybe he needed more money for an exorbitant honeymoon. That had to be it. I’ll bet someone found out Louis’s plans and used that opportunity to shift the blame onto my future uncle for one or both of those deaths.

  As the day progressed, I realized Augusta was right. Nate wasn’t going to get back any time soon, if at all. Her assessment of the situation was right on target. My boss was so inundated he was scrambling around all over the place. By quarter to four, I was ready to lose it. I really needed to speak with him about what I had discovered this morning with Aunt Ina.