Grave Misgivings

by Kristen Houghton

  “Well, see, it went like this. A businessman name of J.M. Martell didn’t come home on the night of the fourteenth. When he hadn’t come home after April fifteenth, his wife reported to my office that she was real worried about him. She was a person of interest at the beginning but we ditched that almost right away. She was damned, beggin’ your pardon ma’am, truly upset when she found out what had happened.

  “But see, here’s the thing, I think she knew what had happened or had an inkling of it, ya know what I mean? I got the feeling she was afraid for her own self if she said anything about what she did know.”

  “What exactly did happen, Captain Ramsay?” I ask, anxious to avoid a longwinded description of the possible murder.

  “I was gettin’ to that, ma’am,” he says patiently. “Now just wait on the details, okay? We had gotten a report that there had been a car explosion so me and my men went to check it out. Well, it seems that the car blast had a lot to do with why Mr. Martell didn’t come home. Martell was accidentally blown up in that explosion, his own car, or so everyone but me seems to think.

  GRAVE MISGIVINGS 48

  Everything about it seems suspicious. Excuse me, ma’am, hold on for a minute.” I hear him

  talking to someone in the background.

  “Sorry ’bout that, ma’am. Busy office here. Anyway, about Martell? Strange that he was even in his car; seems he didn’t like driving his car to work and he rarely did drive it there. He usually took the open air tram, the trolley car, to and from his office. He never drove except on the weekends. Wife said he liked takin’ the tram during the weekdays ’cause it gave him a chance to close his eyes and relax, before and after work. But on the day in question, the day he got blown up? Well, supposedly he texted his housekeeper to bring the car on along into town and park it in the garage next to his office.

  “Now my question is why would a man who didn’t like drivin’ his own car weekdays suddenly text his housekeeper late on a Tuesday afternoon to bring the car to him. Text also said that there was a twenty dollar bill taped to the driver-side visor for her cab fare back home. Don’t make sense, ma’am. And the thing is, anybody could’ve sent that text from Martell’s phone, just like anybody could’ve stuck that twenty dollar bill up there on the visor, ya know what I mean? His car was always parked down a long driveway, a fair distance from the house.”

  “How did the explosion happen?” I’m thinking about how Moira’s father died. A carelessly tossed, read that as a deliberately tossed, cigarette near a natural gas leak.

  “Well now, our CSIs said that it looks like a leak from his gas tank was what made it blow; some spark from the engine lit the liquid gasoline up, they guess. But, I don’t know. If this is a murder, though, I got to say, it’s a very professional one. Body was burned beyond recognition so’s there not a lot of evidence. No hack amateur, ya know what I mean?”

  I do know exactly what he means and I ask, “Did Martell have any known enemies?”

  “Well now, no. Wasn’t the friendliest man, no good ole boy, if ya know what I mean. Did belong to the Rotary from what I learned, member in good standin’ and all. Yes, he was a prominent figure in our community; he ran a brokerage business, did pretty well. I’m guessin’ he had his share of people who didn’t care a whole lot for him and all, but real wanna-kill-him-enemies? No, didn’t find anyone who hated him enough to actually kill him.”

  “You still think the wife knows more than she’s saying? Are you talking to her about what she might know?”

  “No, ma’am, we’re not still talkin’ to her. She’s like a wounded scared little squirrel; can’t get nothin’ more out of her. But, I got to say that yes, I do, I do believe she knows a whole lot more than she’s told us. Trouble is, can’t get blood outta a stone, ya know what I mean? But, truth now? I think someone has her scared enough that she won’t be sayin’ much to any one of us, ever. And anyways, after we cleared her as a person of interest, she was admitted to a local hospital. Doctor says she’s sufferin’ from stress-induced trauma. She ain’t going nowhere but that dog won’t hunt again, if ya know what I mean by that statement.”

  “I can pretty much figure that out, Captain. So, no leads?”

  “No, ma’am, not at this time. Case is open; gonna remain open.” He pauses, “Well now, that’s about all I know. We’re gettin’ pretty busy here. Anything else I can help you with, ma’am?”

  KRISTEN HOUGHTON 49

  I tell him no, he’s already helped a lot and he promises me that he’ll call me if he catches a break in the case.

  “Bye now, ma’am. You take care. You ever down this way, come and say hello, hear?”

  “I will. Same goes for you, if you ever find yourself in New York City that is. Good-bye, Captain Ramsay.

  After I hang up I go to turn off the air conditioner that Myrtle has left on. I’ve been sneezing all morning and Myrtle thinks it’s because of the pollen coming in the open windows so she turns on the air.

  But I hate air-conditioned air. The cold blast has me feeling chilled and my head hurts. Grabbing a bottle of an over-the-counter pain reliever from my desk drawer, I swallow two of the pills washing them down with an entire bottle of water. It’s going to be a long day; I need to cross-check the Atlanta hit with similar ones that may have occurred in that area.

  Chapter 10

  AT ELEVEN THIRTY that night I awaken with a massive headache, a fever and horrible chills. I feel like crap. I swing my legs over the side of the bed but when I try to stand I sway and fall back down. I’m shivering badly and I grab as much of the blanket around me as possible.

  I worked until nine at night and had wanted to work even later but my eyes were getting blurry and my head began to throb again so I came home and fell into bed exhausted. The small amount of sleep I got has only made me feel worse.

  There’s an urgent care doctors office about ten minutes away and I know I should get myself down there but my body is shaking so much that the thought of standing up again is out of the question. For some reason tears fill my eyes. I’m alone and sick. Will is out of town attending that conference he mentioned this morning. Melissa doesn’t usually answer her phone if she’s with a client and I know Myrtle is at a bridal shower. If I call her she’ll worry and I don’t want that. I call Giles on his cell. After three rings I hear, “Dr. Barrett.” Then, because he must have looked at his caller ID, “Catherine? Is everything all right?” The sweet concern in his voice makes me start crying.

  “Giles,” my voice breaks, “I’m so sick. I can’t stand up. I’m hot as hell and my body is shaking with chills.” I didn’t mean to blurt that out but it’s all I can do to talk on the phone.

  “I’ll be right over, Catherine. And you’re in luck. I’ve just finished having dinner with another doctor, an internist. We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Stay in bed until we arrive.”

  ๕๕๕

  The internist’s name is Felicia; she’s pretty and she’s kind. She is also wearing a very sexy low-cut chiffon dress made for dinners at fancy restaurants. After taking my temperature and asking me questions about my symptoms she calls a prescription in to an all-night pharmacy that delivers and tells them to hurry. “I’m ordering you some Augmentum, you’ve got quite a bug there, but after taking two of them, you should start to feel better by late tomorrow morning. Try to get some sleep tonight.” Turning to Giles she says, “I’ll wait outside in the other room for the pharmacy delivery.”

  I watch her sway through the bedroom door in her float-y cranberry-colored dress and take a good look at Giles. He looks dramatically handsome in a black striped suit with a light maroon shirt and tie. Obviously he was on a date. I feel compelled to offer an apology.

  “Sorry to ruin your date. She’s very nice, Giles.”

  “I think she is. I met Felicia at a medical conference. Her office is on Queens Boulevard in Forest Hills; she’s a very good internist. And you didn’t ruin anything. We went to the theatre and then a late dinner.�
�

  “Does she know our past history?”

  “Does she need to know?”

  “No, I guess not. I’m glad to see that you’re moving on.”

  He sits on the side of the bed and kisses my head. “It’s only a second date, Catherine. I need to go out too.”

  “Right. I know and I’m glad for you, that you’re, you know, that you’re...moving on.”

  GRAVE MISGIVINGS 51

  “Cate!” He smiles and cuddles me in his arms. “I said it was a date, I didn’t say that I was bedding her.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanation, Giles.”

  Still holding me he says, “And I’m not giving you any.” He gets up. “Now do as the nice doctor ordered, take the meds she prescribed, get some sleep, let them work tonight, and call me in the morning.” He grins when he says that last part.

  I hear my doorbell ring and voices in the foyer. After a short while Felicia comes back into my bedroom carrying a small bottle of antibiotics and a bottle of water. “Here they are. I took the liberty of getting you a bottle of water from your refrigerator.” She opens the bottle and hands me two pills and the water bottle. “Take these now and you can read the label for the daily dosage tomorrow morning. Try to get some sleep.”

  After guzzling the water to wash down the huge pills, I tell Felicia that there’s money on the dresser. She just shakes her head and smiles. “No problem. Just a few dollars.”

  Giles come back to my bed and bends to kiss me good-night. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Felicia has early rounds in the morning so we’ll be leaving now. Call me if you need me.”

  “Good-night. Feel better,” smiles Felicia, patting my shoulder.

  After giving me a sweet kiss and hug, Giles leads the pretty Felicia out of my bedroom and out the front door.

  Damn it, I know I shouldn’t be jealous; hell, I am the one who started sleeping with my ex while Giles and I were still technically together! Giles never asked me why Will was back in my life again but I think he knew. Both Giles and I had gotten so involved in our respective jobs that we hadn’t really seen one another for a couple of weeks but hadn’t officially gone our separate ways. Then one night Giles unexpectedly rang my bell to ask me if I wanted to go to dinner and was met at the door by a towel-clad, bare-chested Will. Awkward for me you can bet. Even Will was visibly uncomfortable and felt compelled to tell Giles he thought the person ringing my bell was a delivery man from the Thai place nearby. He then asked Giles to stay and have something to eat with us. Giles declined Will’s offer and was very gentlemanly about the whole embarrassing situation.

  I shouldn’t be jealous of him dating again, but I am. What’s wrong with me? When I was with Giles, I dreamed about and lusted after Will. Now I’m with Will I have a craving for Giles. Maybe it’s the fever, maybe I just needed a little TLC; more likely I’m just acting like a jealous bitch. I don’t like the bitch idea and put my ideas about Giles down to my feverish state. Snuggling down into the blankets, I fall into a sleep that has Will, Giles, Felicia, and me playing a tennis match. In my dream Felicia is still dressed in her lovely cranberry-colored dress, this time with matching sneakers, and telling me to please take the medicine like a good girl. Then she stops playing and smiles at me.

  “And please don’t worry about Giles. I promise I’ll take good care of him.”

  ๕๕๕

  Seagulls and the sound of waves awaken me. I must be on a beach, the waves sound close. Nice, so nice. I love my city but there’s a part of me that longs to live in Hawa’ii or even the classy west coast of Florida. Waves, warm sun, seagulls, and Will; a perfect combination.

  KRISTEN HOUGHTON 52

  The gulls are getting noisier and I open my bleary eyes to sunlight coming through my draperies. It takes me a few seconds to remember that the gulls and waves are the new ringtone I put on my cell phone.

  “Hello,” I sound horrible, scratchy throat and stuffed nose. “This is Cate Harlow.”

  “Cate, this is Edward Penn, Jennifer’s fiancé. I’m sorry to call this early but you did say that we could call at any time if we heard from that...hit man.”

  I glance at the time on my phone. It’s six-ten. I struggle into a sitting position and finish the bottled water left on my nightstand to clear my throat.

  “You’ve heard from him? Phone call?”

  “No, Jennifer received a note from him. It was left at the front desk of our high-rise last night. The manager gave it to me when I went down to get the paper. I’m an early riser, you understand. Comes from years of following the overseas stock markets.”

  “Where is Jennifer now?”

  I am awake and trying to get out of bed. The room spins a bit as I put my feet on the floor but I stand up without too much trouble.

  “She’s in the bedroom getting dressed. We want to talk to the police.”

  “Mr. Penn, Edward, I can be at your place in a half an hour. Keep Jennifer inside and away from windows. Let me talk to her first before you call the police.”

  “All right, Cate. I’ll do as you suggest but please do hurry. Jennifer is terrified and so am I. Please hurry.”

  I’m walking to the kitchen and holding the phone next to my ear. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes, Edward, just hang tight.”

  I shake out the dry cat food my two lovable kitties get in the morning and change the water in their bowl. Then I go to take a quick shower sending up a prayer that I’ll have time to stop for a Timothy’s coffee on the way to Jennifer’s.

  Chapter 11

  OUTSIDE THE LOBBY of the genteel, slightly age-shabby high-rise where Edward lived alone and where he and Jennifer now reside together, I pop one of the antibiotics prescribed by the lovely Dr. Felicia and take a huge gulp of Timothy’s hazelnut coffee made cool by the large amount of créme I put in it. I feel horrible and I walk a bit wobbly from the parking garage to the shining glass doors of the building. The building itself borders the 19th precinct, Will’s police domain. I know this area well.

  The doorman gives me a look that says he thinks that I’m nursing a hangover, certainly don’t belong in the building, and is reluctant to let me in. I can’t worry about what he thinks so in my most proper voice I say, “I’m expected by Mr. Edward Penn and his fiancée Ms. Jennifer Brooks-Warren. Please be so kind as to buzz their condo and inform them that Cate Harlow is here.” Myrtle would be so proud of me.

  Still looking at me askance, he does what I ask. From the conversation on his end I gather that he is obviously being told to send me up immediately, because as soon as he replaces the receiver near the door, he admits me without another word.

  My feverish swollen eyes are hidden by my sunglasses and my hair is in a droopy ponytail because I didn’t have time to wash it. I know I look like hell but I want to see what the note says and if there’s a possible clue to gain from it.

  The private elevator lets me out in the foyer of Jennifer’s apartment. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have my own private elevator zip me straight up to my own place. It feels so elegant.

  As soon as I step forward I see Edward coming to greet me. “Thank God you’re here,” he says with concern. “Jennifer is thoroughly frightened and I don’t know what to do. Her doctor has prescribed something to calm her but they make her drowsy and she refuses to take anything until she speaks with you. May I offer you something?”

  As answer to his offer I hold up my large container of coffee and, without any preamble, ask for the note that has gotten Jennifer so upset. I am not in the mood for social pleasantries just now. I feel horrible and just want to do the job I was hired to do. Edward slips his hand into his elegantly tailored pants pocket and gives me the folded note.

  “Has anyone but you and Jennifer touched this paper? The building manager maybe?”

  “No, the note itself was in this sealed envelope. Here.” He put his hand in his other pocket and produces a plain white envelope with Jennifer’s full name printed on it. “I assume other pe
ople touched the envelope but not the note itself. I gave it to Jennifer and we opened it together.”

  I open the note and read it. Anyone knowing Jennifer’s situation would know what the words imply and it is chilling.

  Have you made arrangements yet?

  Simply printed with thin black marker. It’s a sinister message. I can understand why Jennifer and Edward are so upset. The Eliminator is asking Jennifer in a subtle way if she’s made any arrangements for her funeral. The police do need to be notified but this note and the one she showed me in her office, the one that came with flowers and read, “Can’t wait until your birthday. Twenty-five is special” are not necessarily threatening. Any savvy police detective, including the astute Will Benigni, would tell you the notes seem as if they came from someone

  GRAVE MISGIVINGS 54

  who is eager to come to a birthday party and who wants to know if everything for the party has

  been arranged. It’s a delicate situation, they’d say, when the threats are not overt enough to

  warrant police protection.

  Jennifer comes out of the bathroom holding a cold cloth to her head. She looks at me and offers a small smile. She is a stunning woman and even in a crisis, still manages to look beautiful. Edward takes her hand and leads her to a chair.

  “How are you holding up Jennifer?” I ask walking over to her and sitting opposite.

  She gives me that small smile again and says, “Not so good, Cate. Thanks for coming so early.”

  “Not a problem, Jennifer. Let’s see what I can find out.” I turn to Edward. “Did anyone see who delivered this note? The building manager or the doorman?”