Ditched 4 Murder

by J. C. Eaton

  “I hope you’re right, Phee. Call me if that scoundrel shows up.”

  I wanted to tell her he might not be a scoundrel, but frankly, I wasn’t too sure. That guy was holding on to IOUs that amounted to more than $950,000. And that wasn’t counting the small note I could barely decipher. The one that wasn’t written on Emerald Cruise Line paper. I took a deep breath and called my aunt back.

  “Aunt Ina, about those IOUs . . .”

  “Forget the IOUs. Tell me later. Louis called. Said he couldn’t explain but that the next time I see him it will be at the wedding. The wedding. It’s a week from Sunday. I can’t think straight. I’m getting off the phone, Phee. I’ve got to try my wedding gown on again.”

  Just be sure to take it off, Aunt Ina. And whatever you do, don’t light any votives.

  I went back to the IOUs for another look. It was tough trying to read them from the cell phone. In retrospect, I should have e-mailed them to myself at the office so I could have looked at them on the computer screen, but I wasn’t thinking. How could I think? Between my aunt’s hysteria and my mother’s nagging, it was a wonder I even functioned at all. But I was certain of one thing. Roland LeDoux owed Louis a hell of a lot of money. And he might not have been the only one.

  Chapter 19

  Nate nearly blew a gasket when he saw me the next morning. I had to tell him about the IOUs and there was no way to do that without mentioning the fact my aunt and I snuck into Louis Melinsky’s house.

  If his early morning coffee didn’t wake him up, my confession certainly did. “Are you out of your mind? I can understand your aunt doing a thing like that, but you? Damn it, Phee. You could have been arrested. Locked up for tampering with an active crime scene.”

  “I know. I know. Believe me, if there was another way to do this, I would have. Besides, I couldn’t let my aunt go there alone.”

  “No, of course not. Why have one person in the family arrested when you can go for two?”

  “Oh, come on, Nate. Don’t tell me you haven’t bent the rules once in a while.”

  “Bent, not ignored. So . . . what did your clandestine caper turn up?”

  I grabbed my cell phone and showed him the photo I took of the IOUs.

  He raised his eyebrows and stared at the small screen. Then he squinted and shook his head. “Come on, kiddo, you’ve got an AirPrint app on your phone. Let’s see if we can get a better look. It’ll be quicker than e-mailing it to yourself.”

  Even Nate thought of that.

  Seconds later, Nate had printed out the snapshot. I was right about the signature under the line that said “witness.” It was clearly visible on all of the notes with the Emerald Cruise Line designation.

  “So.” I studied the photo. “What do you make of this?”

  “Looks like Roland LeDoux owed your aunt’s fiancé a barrel full of bucks. Check the dates. Most go back a few years, but this one here was written a few months ago. It’s also the only one not written on the Emerald Cruise Line stationery. Too bad we can’t read the signatures on it. Or the holder of the note, for that matter.”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I was in such a hurry, I couldn’t get them all lined up to fit neatly in one photo.”

  “You did get one thing right—the witness’s signature. I’ll be darned. This confirms something that’s been rolling around in my mind ever since I got the call about the body on the golf course. Too bad that other note is so illegible.”

  “I can always—”

  “Don’t even finish that thought. You got away with it once. Do not—and I mean it—do not make another attempt at retrieving it from Louis’s house. I’ll check with the police and see if I can get clearance to go in. From what they told me initially, that part of it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  I knew Nate well enough to see he was keeping something from me. “That part of it?”

  “Uh-huh. Look, right now we’re holding some information that may or may not incriminate your aunt’s fiancé. We need to get the other note and check it out before the police reach a conclusion and wind up issuing a warrant for Louis Melinsky’s arrest.”

  “Oh my God! An arrest warrant? That’s all my aunt needs.”

  “Take it easy. The police aren’t moving that quickly. When I get the okay to go inside the place, and believe me, I will get the go-ahead, I won’t be alone. They’ll have an officer there.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Come along with me on the guise of taking notes and . . .”

  My mouth was wide open. I didn’t know whether to punch my boss in the arm or thank him. “You want me to create a diversion, don’t you? I’ve seen enough movies.”

  “Look, Phee, whatever you do, don’t say a word to your aunt.”

  “Oh, believe me, that’s the last thing I feel like doing.”

  “Good. We’ll figure this out and set a time. Speaking of which, I’ve got an appointment in a few minutes with Louise Munson, and I’d better get going. I’m hoping she can narrow down the model of that Lexus. Too bad it’s not the holiday season, because every time you turn on the TV there’s a commercial for one of those things.”

  “How do you expect her to give you the model?”

  “See that stack of papers on my desk?”

  I turned toward the open door of his office.

  “They’re brochures from the Lexus dealership in Peoria. I figured I’d start with those since Louise was sure it was a Lexus. This visit better pay off. Let’s hope she’ll be able to tell me if any of the new models had the angry grill she saw.”

  As Nate raced out the door with an armload of brochures, I shouted, “Maybe you should take some birdseed with you!”

  There was no doubt in my mind both deaths were linked. Nate would want more definitive evidence before he’d say it out loud, but I read the expression on his face when he looked at the copy of those IOUs.

  So far, I knew there was bad blood between Feltons’ Pavilions, Tents, and Awnings and Saveur de Evangeline. Not to mention the caustic relationship Roland LeDoux and Julien Rossier had endured for years following their graduation from Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. Then there was that sticky situation with Louis missing. I felt as if a giant cloud was obscuring something right in front of me. I couldn’t very well bother Sebastian again, but I certainly could find a reason to give Rochelle at La Petite Pâtisserie a call.

  With Nate gone and a good hour or so before Augusta would arrive, I needed to keep an eye out on the office and answer any calls. Knowing I could do two things at once, I snatched the cell phone from my bag and made the call to La Petite Pâtisserie. Antoine answered. His voice reminded me of someone who had watched one too many Maurice Chevalier movies.

  “Bonjour. La Petite Pâtisserie. How may we be of service to you?”

  “Hi, Antoine. This is Phee Kimball from the Stangler-Melinsky wedding. Is Rochelle available?”

  “I’m sorry. She won’t be in until much later. I’m afraid we were all out last night celebrating. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Er . . . um . . . I just wanted to make sure everything was going smoothly. I recently found out our caterer had some trouble a few years back with the tent company that we hired. I wanted to be sure there were no obstacles at your end. It sounded as if my aunt’s choice for a tent company wasn’t the best.”

  “Ah. I am aware of that unfortunate situation. It was before I accepted a position here. Indeed, the tent company is deplorable but not as reprehensible as the restaurant your aunt selected. I am speaking out of turn, but understand this: the late Mr. LeDoux was prone to exaggeration, bullying, and unethical behavior. When I think of what he has put my boss through, it turns my stomach. Not to speak ill of the dead, but . . . more than one person wanted Roland LeDoux to step into an early grave.”

  “Whoa. That sounds cold.”

  “Not when you consider how he humiliated people, stole their ideas, and did all sorts of unscrupulous things. Well, enough about that. As you were sa
ying, I can give you my word we don’t have any issues with your tent company. As far as Saveur de Evangeline is concerned, let me just say, with Roland out of the picture, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “That’s good. I’m sure my aunt will be glad to hear it. Oh, by the way, you mentioned you were out celebrating. What’s the good news, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Not at all. I’m sure the press will be jumping right on it. Julien acquired the financial backing needed to open a satellite patisserie at the Ritz-Carlton.”

  “The Ritz-Carlton. Wow. I can’t begin to fathom how much an endeavor like that would cost. Julien must have been thrilled to get the funding. Do you know who the financier is?”

  “No. I have no idea and Julien has been quite circumspect about the entire matter. At least he’s stopped fuming about that article in the Phoenix Home and Garden.”

  “Oh, you must mean the one with Roland LeDoux on the cover.”

  “That very article. I could spit right on it if it wasn’t such a garish thing to do.”

  “Um, yeah. Okay. Anyway, thank you, Antoine, and I’ll be in touch. Have a nice day.”

  I was hoping to learn more about the alleged sabotage of Saveur de Evangeline’s catering truck, but instead, I got off the phone with more questions. This time about the financing for another patisserie.

  Meanwhile, Sebastian seemed pretty confident Roland’s expansion into Scottsdale with Saveur de Madeline would continue as planned, so whoever was financing it must not have been too worried Roland wouldn’t be at the helm. If I could only figure out who was behind those deals, I might have a better idea of the person or persons responsible for killing a master chef and a restauranteur.

  Frustrated with the miserable job I was doing as a would-be investigator, I turned my attention to my real job. The one I actually got paid to do. Booting up my computer, I tackled the billing and some payments that needed to be made. Augusta had come in and was busy sending out updates to our clients.

  We ordered in for lunch and split a giant pepperoni pizza, leaving a couple of slices in the fridge for Nate. He was back by two and scarfed down the pizza.

  “Next meal is on me, ladies. You saved the day. I thought I’d never catch a break. By the time I got done speaking with Louise Munson, I was ready to throw myself off the nearest bridge. Good thing Lake Havasu City is too far away.”

  “Well?” I asked. “Did you narrow down the car?”

  “Indeed I did. Or at least I think I did. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to have her go through those brochures? It was a nightmare. I thought it would never end. And that bird of hers kept squawking ‘Raul likes lettuce. Raul likes lettuce.’ I wanted to throw an entire head of the stuff right at him!”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Nate put the palm of his hand on his cheek and opened his eyes as wide as he could. “At least the bird stuck to one subject. Louise Munson was much worse.”

  “Why? What did she say?”

  “Seriously? Are you ready for this? Here goes: ‘Oh, look, I wonder if the interior comes in burgundy? ’”

  “Really? She said that?”

  Groaning, he gave a complete rendition. “‘That fabric looks like it will scratch my skin.’ ‘I like a car with a radio. Where’s the radio on the dashboard? Have they stopped making radios?’ ‘Where’s the ashtray? I don’t smoke, mind you, but shouldn’t cars have ashtrays? It would be un-American not to have ashtrays.’ ‘I can’t get a good look at the vanity mirror. Do you have another brochure with a better picture?’ And on and on it went. Radios, fabric, seat cushions . . . Finally I was able to get her to focus.”

  Augusta, who was standing a few feet away, moved in closer. “What kind of car was it?”

  Nate took a deep breath, slapped a brochure on the table and, for a second, reminded me of the Cheshire cat. “A Lexus RX 350 SUV. Oh, and by the way, Louise thought it was silver and that it had ‘beady little eyes and dimples.’ Take a look at the photo. See for yourself. I think the dimples she’s referring to are the design feature with additional front lights.”

  I started to open my mouth, but it felt as if a camel had died in my throat. Finally, I was able to squeeze out the words. “A Lexus RX 350 SUV?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Because that’s the kind of car Louis Melinsky drives.”

  Chapter 20

  “Are you sure?” Nate asked as Augusta stood next to me wide eyed and speechless.

  “Yeah. I’m sure. The car dealer left a message for Louis that my aunt played when we went over to his house. When I asked her what kind of car it was, she was very specific.”

  “Maybe she made a mistake,” Augusta offered.

  “No. Not Aunt Ina. When it comes to cars, food, clothing, and jewelry, she knows her stuff.”

  Nate took a closer look at the brochure. “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, Phee. Lots of people own that kind of car.”

  Then Augusta piped up. “Lots of rich people own that kind of SUV.”

  Clearing his throat, Nate gave Augusta a funny look. “Well, that certainly narrows down the field. Look, you two, it makes no sense whatsoever for Louis Melinsky to murder Theodore Sizemore. Besides, a man who has as much money as Louis purports to have would find a more efficient way of bumping off someone. No, this was an angry and personal attack. Not business. That’s not to say I don’t think Louis is totally off the hook, but I don’t think he’s one of our murderers.”

  Seconds later, the door flung open and it was Nate’s two-thirty appointment. A red-haired woman in her late forties or early fifties who wanted to track down her birth mother. As both of them headed into Nate’s office, I gave Augusta a shrug and walked back to my desk. The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, but the evening made up for it.

  Nate got a call around four from the police in Surprise. They authorized him to check out Louis Melinsky’s house and provided him with the access code to the garage. Apparently, that was how the police were able to get in initially, since they didn’t have a key. Somehow they were able to open the door manually and reset the keypad. Not a very comforting thought since that meant any burglar would be capable of doing the same thing.

  “So, what do think, Phee? Care to join me right after work? This shouldn’t take too long and it’ll give us the answer we’re looking for.”

  A few minutes after six, Nate and I had parked our respective cars on Louis’s street and were walking up his driveway. The crime scene tape was still there. Ducking underneath it, he turned toward me and mentioned something to the fact that if he had to bend any lower, he was afraid his back would seize up. I teased him about getting old as we waited for the garage door to open.

  “At least it’s daylight,” I said. “We won’t have to worry about bumping into anything.”

  Since I knew exactly where to find the fire safe key, I headed back to the master bedroom and Louis’s dresser drawer as soon as we got into the house. Minutes later, Nate and I were going through the contents of that fire safe like two kids who had just dumped their loot out of a plastic Halloween pumpkin.

  “I’ll give the guy credit for this much,” Nate said as he started to go through the documents. “He was definitely organized. See for yourself. Life insurance policies, his trust, the IOUs, car title, and . . . hmmf, look here—a couple of divorce documents. And there’s more. I suppose we should focus on what we came here for in the first place—a better look at that IOU.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been curious about it ever since Aunt Ina and I discovered these.”

  Nate picked up the pile of IOUs and spread them out on the bed. I had done a quick tally of approximately $950,000 when I first got my hands on those notes. I hadn’t factored in the one note that wasn’t written on Emerald Cruise Line paper.

  When I took a closer look at that amount, I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. “Holy cow, Nate! Do you see what I see?”

  “Yeah. Someone got carried a
way with the zeros.”

  “That’s over a million dollars. My God! Let me see the other ones.”

  “They’re pretty clear-cut, Phee. Looks like gambling debts to me. See for yourself.”

  Nate pointed to the names and signatures as I leaned over the bed. The light from the overhead fan seemed to make everything stand out.

  “Wow. If I’m reading this right, then Roland LeDoux lost a hell of a lot of money gambling and he lost it to Louis Melinsky. Check the witness signature. It’s the same on all of those notes—Theodore Sizemore. The dead man from the golf course. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. I’ve got to go get something.”

  I ran out of the room and straight toward the hutch, without giving Nate a chance to say a word. I couldn’t get to that stack of old photos fast enough.

  “Take a good look at this photo, Nate. That’s Louis at the baccarat table and the man next to him is Roland LeDoux. Could the guy in the tux be Theodore Sizemore? That would certainly explain a lot.”

  “Hard to say. It could be. That photo was taken a few years ago and people change. They put on weight. They lose weight. They lose hair. You know what? Take out that smartphone of yours and Google him. I’ll bet anything we’ll see enough photos of Theodore Sizemore to be sure. I know you’re dying to tap into a search engine.”

  “Not really. Not with this gadget. Maybe if I was fourteen. Or twelve. I’m not as adept as the post-millennials. Give me a second.” My fingers felt enormous on the small iPhone keyboard but, surprisingly, they didn’t slow me down.

  “Well, what do you think, Nate? Is it the same guy?” I was pointing to a cover article that had been written about Theodore Sizemore when he made a substantial donation to some golf club.

  “Let me take a look at that.” Nate perused the article. “Yeah, it’s him all right. Theodore Sizemore. Back when he was still playing at Tanglewood Golf Club. Before he had that falling out with the board. It would seem our Mr. Sizemore had more than a passing relationship with Louis Melinsky and Roland LeDoux.”