Zelda stared at me over the hood of her beat-up jeep. "What am I, the family dog?"
I raked my hands through my hair. "It's not professional. This is business. Zelda, be reasonable."
Zelda scorched me with a stare.
I huffed and yanked open the passenger door. "Can you at least get me there in one piece? And try not to interrupt me when I'm talking?"
Zelda unlocked the jeep and got in. She turned the ignition, and the engine rumbled to life. Smiling, she patted the passenger seat. I climbed in, belted up, and sighed loudly.
Zelda gunned the engine. "I knew you'd see things my way."
I mimed choking her. "Can we go?"
"What's in George's briefcase?"
"What? I don't know."
"You didn't open it?"
"It’s not my briefcase to open." I waved my hand at the street. "Time's a-wasting."
Zelda backed out of the parking space and nosed toward the exit. "But maybe whatever is in the briefcase will tell you why he’s out of touch."
"Or I could talk to George and ask him why he’s been out of touch." I raked my mop of hair out of my eyes. "Besides we're past that. I need that damn check today. We can talk about hurt feelings another time."
Zelda nodded, pulled into traffic, and headed for Pasadena. Neither of us knowing how hard it would be to talk to George.
Chapter Two
Despite the pouring rain, Zelda merged onto the 134 like an old lady anxious to cash her Social Security check before the bank closed. In under twelve minutes, we pulled off the freeway at Walnut, turned at Union, and picked up Colorado Boulevard to get to George's office.
Traffic crawled as drivers wandered Old Town Pasadena for the best lunch experience, trendy furniture and a decent parking space. Made all the slower by the rain, which battered the roof and kept the wipers working overtime.
"God I hate this town," Zelda groaned.
"I didn't force you to come," I reminded her.
Zelda sneered. "Oh right, you'd be crying by now because you couldn't find a parking spot."
Instead of defending my driving skills, I scanned the street for George's building. I pointed. "Slow down, there it is." It was one of those new buildings they'd put up in the last few years — a modern gray structure with lots of glass and weird artwork that made no sense to me.
"I see it, I see it." Zelda tapped the brakes and eased into the turn lane.
"We can park in the underground structure — George validates," I said.
Zelda turned left into the parking structure, stopped at the gate, got a ticket from the attendant, and zipped through once he lifted the gate. She pulled into a spot close to the elevator, jammed the car into park, and killed the engine. Before I had a chance to release the seatbelt, Zelda said, "So, what are you going to say to George? Hey buddy, Manny's a shit and threatening to sell the diner to somebody else, so could you cut the check now?"
I frowned. "I don't talk like that." But she had a point because I didn't know what I'd say to George. "Why do you always have to say things that freak me out?"
"Because I've been thinking..."
I forced a laugh and made a cross with my two index fingers. "Oh no, Zelda Carter has been thinking. Everybody duck."
Zelda gave me the look.
Dread snaked around in my gut. "What?"
She twisted her lips and sighed. "Manny's probably full of shit, but what if he talked to George?" She stared at me. "Would George tell Manny he was pulling out of the deal? If that's what he was planning?"
I slumped in my seat and that creepy feeling you get when you realize you're in trouble crawled up my spine. I shook my head and looked out the window. "George wouldn't do that. He wouldn't go to Manny behind my back."
"Are you sure?" Zelda asked. "I'm seriously not trying to shit all over your parade here. You know I'm not, but people do crappy stuff. And plenty of crappy stuff has been done to you."
I closed my eyes and fisted my hands. I had no desire to revisit my past, even if it was one I shared with Zelda. All that crap was behind me and I needed to look forward. "George and I have an agreement. Drawn up by a lawyer. It's real and binding. Which we're supposed to sign tomorrow. George wouldn't have gone to all that trouble if he planned to back out, would he?" I glanced at her, afraid I'd see doubt in her eyes.
Zelda punched the steering wheel. "Oh the hell with me. You're right; George is one of the good guys. Manny's the jerk. I know better than to believe his shit." She opened her door. "Let's talk to George."
Zelda climbed out of the jeep but I stayed in my seat.
She leaned in. "Come on, Scotti. I'm just being my little black cloud self. Let's do this." She opened my door and tugged on my arm. "It's good. It's all good, you'll see."
I climbed out of the jeep and let Zelda strong arm me to the elevator. But when the elevator doors opened onto George's penthouse office, the dread I felt became palpable. My first impulse was to hit the down button but Zelda gave me a little push forward. We stepped off the elevator and the office manager Peggy Rizzardini looked up from the reception desk. Her expression confirmed my sense of doom and I stopped mid-stride.
"What's the matter?" Zelda whispered. "Why aren't we moving?"
I flicked a look at Zelda then continued to the desk. "Hi Peggy. Scotti Fitzgerald, remember me?"
Peggy was a pretty redhead in her early thirties. She had jade green eyes that sparkled when she smiled. Her well-tailored navy blue suit complimented her ivory complexion, and was accented with a flash of gold at her ears and wrist.
Peggy stood, took my hand, and smiled but her eyes didn't sparkle. "Of course I remember you. How are you, Scotti?" She squeezed my hand briefly and released it.
I smiled back but my eyes didn't sparkle either because the other shoe was about to drop, and I was bracing myself for it. "Fine, thanks." I glanced around the quiet office. "I don't have an appointment but I was hoping to talk to George for a few minutes. Is he in?"
Peggy's voice cracked. "I'm afraid you can't."
I nodded because I expected George wouldn't be available. "Okay, can I make an appointment? The soonest you can fit me in?" And I knew the question was ridiculous because something was very, very wrong.
Peggy sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry Scotti. What I mean to say — to tell you — is that George died two days ago."
I gasped. "What? George?" I gaped at Zelda then back to Peggy. "What happened?"
Peggy pulled at her earring. "Allergic reaction. He went into anaphylactic shock."
I shook my head. "To what? No, that can't be. How is that possible?" My voice went high and pitchy. "He was so careful with his diet and he always had an injector." I couldn't stop shaking my head. "It doesn't make sense."
Peggy nodded, fighting tears. "That's what I said but..." she shrugged." No one knows exactly what happened." Peggy struggled to keep it together. "The janitor found him unconscious in his office and called 911. But they didn't get George to the hospital in time."
I stared at the beautiful deep blue carpet beneath my feet. Blue was George's favorite color.
Zelda put her arm around my shoulder. "Are you okay, Scotti?"
I looked at Zelda then back to Peggy.
"Believe me Scotti, we're all stunned." Peggy glanced around the room as though she didn't recognize it. "Honestly, I'm not sure what I'm doing here. I can't concentrate on anything. Or walk by George's office without bursting into tears..."
I patted Peggy's shoulder because I didn’t know what else to do. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?" But I was asking myself the same question because without George's investment money, I couldn't buy the diner.
Peggy straightened and tugged at her suit jacket. "I'm afraid there isn't anything anyone can do."
"How is George's family? They must be devastated."
Peggy shrugged and daubed her eyes with a tissue. "I don't know - I haven't spoken to them yet. Worse than I am, no doubt."
I ra
n out of questions to ask so stood there looking at Peggy. It was selfish to think about what George's death meant to my future, but it was the only thing going through my mind. I didn't dare say anything more for fear it would be the wrong thing.
A tall man in an expensive suit and wire rim glasses came up the hallway. "Can I help you?" He wasn't handsome but he had a magnetism that drew you in.
"Jake, this is Scotti and..."
"Zelda."
"This is Scotti and Zelda — they're friends of George's." Peggy nodded to Jake. "This is Jake Kannanack, George's partner."
I stepped toward Jake with my hand outstretched. "Actually, George and I were business associates."
Jake studied me — apparently amused that George had a business associate who looked so much like a waitress.
"Scotti Fitzgerald. Maybe George mentioned me?"
Jake took my hand, squeezed it a little too hard, and held it a little too long. "No, George never said a word." His hawkish eyes traveled my body like they were on a vacation cruise. "I would have remembered if he'd mentioned a woman like you."
It was a line, but his smile was enticing, and my knees wanted to buckle. Although, hitting on me while discussing his dead partner made him a creep.
I stepped back and smiled. "Like I said, George and I had a business relationship." Then I studied him. He was flashy and slick — so unlike George. I wondered how they’d become partners. They couldn't have been more different.
Jake stepped aside and motioned us toward an open door. "Why don't you step into my office and explain the kind of relationship you had with old George? I'm sure it's fascinating."
I swapped a look with Zelda and we followed Jake into his office.
Jake closed the door behind us and pointed to chrome and leather visitor chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat."
The office was like Jake — slick, polished and all sharp angles. It was a beautiful room and skillfully decorated but it didn't feel like a space where people liked to linger.
We sat and Jake took his seat behind the chrome and glass desk. He leaned back casually, making no effort to hide his appreciative glances. "All right then, what was this association you had with George?"
"George was investing in a business with me."
Jake raised a heavy eyebrow. "What kind of business?" He leaned across his desk as though he wanted to get a better sniff.
I shifted in my seat and draped my arm over the back of the chair. "The diner where I currently work. He was a customer. He told me he had food allergies, so I created nut-free recipes for him, which he liked. One thing led to another and..."
Jake flashed a smile and nodded. "Oh! You’re the magic chef. Oh yes, I've heard of you. That old dog George never let on that you were as beautiful as you are talented." He grinned and licked his lips. "I've sampled those brownies. Exquisite."
Zelda was not seduced by his charm. "What should we do then?" Her tone was brusque and her eyes intent.
Jake stopped leering at me and sat up straight in his chair. "Do? About what?"
"Scotti's deal with George?" Zelda frowned at him. "If you've heard about Scotti, then you know what their deal was, right?" She held out her arms. "I know this is lousy timing and George dying is sad — really sad. But where do we go from here? Life goes on, right?"
Jake scratched an imaginary beard. "You get right to the point, don't you?" He tilted his head and shrugged. "The deal as you call it, wasn’t with the firm, yes? So, it's out of my hands."
Zelda grunted. "Then why did you drag us into your office to talk?"
Jake steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. "Perhaps you should contact the family to discuss how they want to handle it." He picked up a black and ivory fountain pen and tapped it on the desk top. "Contracts aren't my wheelhouse but they can be tricky." He grinned at me like we were on a date. "And if there's a death clause, your contract could be null and void."
It was obvious that Jake knew about my plans with George and that our contract hadn't been signed and finalized yet.
Zelda pulled a notebook out of her pocket. "Okay, how can we reach them?"
"Zelda!"
Zelda gave me the hairy eyeball and looked back to Jake. "How can we get in touch with George's family?"
Jake shook his head slowly. "The family is suffering. They don't need this type of disruption."
Suddenly I'd reached my limit. The reality that George was dead hit me and tears pooled in my eyes. The diner, deals and contracts meant nothing. My friend was dead and we were wasting time dickering with his partner who had no desire to help us. I grabbed my bag and stood. "Sorry we bothered you, Mr. Kannanack." I turned to Zelda. "Come on Zee - time to go."
Zelda gave me a dirty look but I shook my head. She stuffed her notebook into her back pocket, and stood. "Fine."
We headed for the door.
Jake chuckled. "You two give up easily don't you?"
I turned back to him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Jake scribbled on a piece of stationary and crossed the room to us. Pushing the sheet of paper into my hand he said, "Here's George's address.” It’s just down the street. But please don't mention how you got it." He winked and lowered his voice. "My number is on there too should you need a sympathetic ear."
"I don't understand. I thought you didn't want to get involved."
He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a magnanimous fellow." He insisted on walking us to the elevator and leered at me until the doors closed.
"What a creep."
I said nothing.
Zelda looked at me. "Oh what? Now you're pissed at me? We needed that address."
I said nothing.
When the elevator doors opened onto the parking structure I started for the jeep with Zelda on my heels. "Come on! Scotti, talk to me! Yell at me if you want. But don't freeze me out."
I stopped and spun around. "Damn it!"
Zelda jumped back. "What?"
"You forgot to get the parking validated!"
Chapter Three
The rumble of the jeep's engine bounced off the concrete walls of the parking structure. I stared into space wondering what I could do.
"Are you going to say anything?" Zelda finally asked.
I didn’t look at her. "I'm not mad."
She put the jeep in gear and eased out of the parking slot. "Glad to hear it."
"But, we have to get flowers."
Zelda braked. "For what?"
I turned to her. "Because, if you barge into a person's home when there's been a death in the family, you bring flowers." I buckled my seatbelt and looked straight ahead. "We should also swing by the house and get his briefcase."
Zelda shook her head. "I'll stop for flowers but I'm not going all the way home and then back again. We'll do the briefcase another day."
She stared at me until I nodded. His family had more important things on their minds than George's briefcase. "Okay."
Zelda zoomed to the exit, gave the attendant her ticket, and shot out of the lot. She weaved in and out of lanes and tail gated everyone until she found a flower shop on Raymond. A cute little place that made me think of unicorns — where we purchased a large and expensive floral arrangement of roses and lilies.
Two steps into lugging the vase to the jeep, I regretted my choice. "Why did you let me order this?"
Zelda took the vase from me and stuffed it in the back. "Like I could've stopped you?" She stared at the arrangement that filled the back seat. "That thing is a crime against flowers everywhere. And it’s ugly." She climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door. "We ready now?" Then she floored it, cascading rainwater as she went.
George's home was on Orange Grove Boulevard but I'd never thought of George as rich until I saw that house. I never knew a house could intimidate a person — but George's house intimidated me. "Holy mother..."
"Great Gatsby!" Zelda cried.
Parking was prohibited on the street, so Zelda turned into the driveway
. And as we pulled closer, the house loomed larger above us. She parked next to a plain wrap sedan that seemed more out of place than her jeep.
Zelda peered through the windshield at the house. "Who the hell was this guy?"
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the house either. "Just a lawyer with allergies."
"Why didn't you tell me he was Daddy Got-Bucks?"
"Because I didn't know."
Coffee & Crime Page 2
