The Trickster (A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 3)

by R. Lanier Clemons

  A little over an hour later, Finkleberg emerged, sucking on a pipe and walking more slowly this time. Eyes trained on the commissioner as he trudged back to his vehicle, Jonelle was disappointed when, instead of getting behind the wheel of a gray sedan, he entered a white SUV. She put the Jeep in gear, intent on following wherever he led. A quick trip down interstate 95 and Finkleberg exited in her part of the woods. She stayed close as he drove into the lot of a Hampton Hotel.

  Not wanting to go through the front desk, Jonelle decided on the direct approach. When he exited his vehicle, she was right behind him. “Hey, Mister Finkleberg,” she called out. He stopped and turned at the mention of his name.

  “What’re … how did you get here?”

  “Same way you did. By automobile.” She didn’t care that she was exhibiting a fair amount of snark. The bump on her head reminded her that she didn’t like being manhandled, neither figuratively nor literally.

  “Are you following me?”

  “Sure am,” Jonelle answered. “I’ve got a few questions I need to ask.” At that time of day, the parking lot was fairly crowded. Several people turned to stare at the thin white man and tall black woman. “We can either do it right here, or perhaps inside the hotel would be better. Your choice.”

  Finkleberg shook his head. He held the mahogany pipe in one hand, the smoky-sweet aroma floating in front of her face. He opened his mouth as if to say something. Jonelle held his gaze until he shrugged and looked away. “Guess inside would be better.” He turned and headed toward the hotel’s double doors.

  He angrily knocked the pipe’s contents on top of a sand-filled metal container. Once inside the lobby, Finkleberg turned right and stomped toward the main level’s sports bar. Jonelle didn’t bother to hurry; she had no intention of letting him get away from her. Although Finkleberg didn’t acknowledge her presence, she planned on staying and talking to him for however long it took.

  Finkleberg snatched a table farthest from the entrance to the bar. Without waiting for permission, Jonelle sat across from him, next to a large window. A waitress dressed in black slacks and white blouse with a small red apron draped around her waist, came and took their order. Lager for him, white wine for her. While they waited, Finkleberg looked everywhere around the room, except at Jonelle. She wondered if he really expected her to disappear and decided to get right to the point.

  “In case you’re curious about how I found you, I was waiting for you to leave the police department.”

  He gaped at her. “What? Why?”

  “The detective you had an appointment with is a friend of mine. We’re working on Susanna’s case together.”

  “You two are in collusion? How dare he tell you about me.”

  Jonelle waved a hand in the air. “Save it. Unless I’m mistaken, this is the first time he’s interviewed you, so I knew more than he did. He’s not a priest for crissakes. I’m a licensed private investigator with a vested interest in this case. Sophia Reyes hired me, remember?”

  Finkleberg’s nostrils flared as he stared at Jonelle. The two didn’t say a word while the waitress placed drinks before them. Jonelle took a tiny sip and waited as he slurped beer and wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. Lovely.

  “Look,” she said. “Detective Burton isn’t going to reveal the specifics of what you talked about and frankly, I don’t care about that. What I do care about is, what were you doing meeting Doctor Kelly in west Baltimore?”

  Finkleberg choked on his drink. He got himself under control and studied Jonelle. “How long have you been following me?”

  “Not you necessarily. But I did suspect the good doctor hadn’t been completely honest with me, so it was him on my radar. You were just the extra tidbit that came along. You didn’t answer my question. What were you two doing in that part of town? A bit low rent for the both of you I would’ve thought.”

  Finkleberg’s eyes darted around the bar, settled back on Jonelle, then resumed its flitting around the dimly lit room. “Barry and I are friends,” he said, after several seconds. “I just wanted to … uh … catch up on a few old times.”

  Jonelle hooted. She lowered her voice as a few occupants at other tables turned and stared. “Catch up? You had to go all the way to the low rent district to do that? Give me a break. There are far nicer places closer to where he works.” She leaned back in her chair. “Did you happen to mention your ‘catching up’ with Kelly to Detective Burton?” Jonelle paused, waiting for an answer that never came. “I didn’t think so.”

  “It’s none of your damn business, anyway,” Finkleberg said through clenched teeth.

  “Oh, but it is. It’s my business if I caught somebody watching me and it’s my damn business if that somebody, or somebodies, attacked me as I started to follow you into that bar.”

  He stared openmouthed.

  “Your goon didn’t tell you what happened?”

  Finkleberg shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in a soft voice.

  Jonelle eyed the person across from her. For a brief moment she almost believed him. Still, there was something off about the man. “I think you do. The only connection with me and this mess with Susanna I can come up with is the money. I believe that for some reason you seem to think I know where Susanna hid the cash. Well, I don’t.”

  His hands shook as he picked up the half empty beer mug. Jonelle waited while he consumed the rest of the liquid. This time, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and then used it to remove the sweat from his brow. “I’m here of my own free will. I won’t sit here and be accused of …” He shuddered. “I want the money back. That’s all. I don’t know who killed Susanna or why.”

  “You’ve got to believe that her death is connected to the money she stole. Has to be. Otherwise, why kill her? A random mugger wouldn’t take the time to do what he did to her.”

  Finkleberg lowered his head down so far that it almost touched the table’s surface. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “This is getting out of hand. This is not …”

  When he didn’t finish the thought, Jonelle nudged him a little.

  “Okay. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? Susanna and Rosemary stole the money and took off. Rosemary headed for the Canadian border and Susanna came down here. She called Kelly. He says he didn’t know anything about what she’d done, yet he admits he talked to you about that same time.” Jonelle tapped the table until Finkleberg’s head came up. “Did you tell Kelly what she’d done?”

  Finkleberg nodded.

  Finally, Jonelle thought. “And Kelly told you she wanted to stay with him. Right?”

  “He said he told her no. He didn’t want to get involved.” His hands wrapped around the empty glass.

  The waitress came and asked if he wanted a refill. Finkleberg nodded.

  “Did either you or Kelly know where she was staying?”

  A scowl came across his face. “We had no idea.”

  Jonelle wasn’t buying it. “Somebody knew. Otherwise why did she end up living on the street … at least part of the time. Even that didn’t keep her safe.” Jonelle remembered a question that had nagged at her since she first became involved in the case. She waited while the waitress set Finkleberg’s drink down and walked away.

  “Why embezzle the money in the first place? She came from a wealthy family. Her mother told me the only heirs to the family’s estate were the two girls. I assume the county paid her a decent salary. So why take a lousy 350,000 dollars? I can see maybe thirty million, but not that paltry sum.”

  Finkleberg’s complexion took on an unhealthy sheen. Behind his glasses his eyes blinked several times in rapid succession. Jonelle hoped the poor man wouldn’t keel over before she had finished asking her questions. “I’ll ask again. Why do you think she took the money in the first place?”

  He cleared his throat several times and took another swig of beer. That small action seemed to give him a short burst of confidence. This time he met Jonel
le’s gaze. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve thought about it but can’t figure it out.” He sat up straighter. “That’s why I was meeting Barry. I wanted to discuss it with him. See what he had to say about this whole mess. He was adamant about not meeting anywhere near where he worked. He, uh, knew the area. Said one of his clients lived around there.”

  Jonelle examined the man fidgeting in his seat. All her senses screamed that he was lying. Kudos to him for that quick excuse, but she didn’t buy it.

  “You mentioned the impending audit. For that small amount of money, couldn’t she have talked her way out of any wrongdoing?”

  He shrugged. “She set up a bogus bank account. They could’ve easily traced it back to her.”

  “Or not. She seemed like a smart person who could’ve lied her way through any suspicion. What about drugs? Is it possible she was hiding a drug habit and needed the money?”

  “I don’t know anything about drugs,” Finkleberg said.

  Jonelle racked her brain. “Was she covering up for someone else?” she asked, more as a result of grasping at straws than anything else. Finkleberg turned his head and stared out the window. Jonelle thought she might be on to something. More often than not, twins stood up for each other. While Sophia’s physical appearance indicated she married well, Jonelle also knew there wasn’t any information on Mr. Reyes in Sophia’s file. She had to find Sophia.

  The break in conversation allowed Finkleberg to catch the waitress’ attention. She gave him the check and he paid for the drinks. He started to stand but Jonelle’s voice stopped him. “I have to ask you about Sophia.”

  His brow furrowed. “Sophia? I thought you were interested in Susanna.”

  “The two are intertwined in this whole mess. Plus, I haven’t been able to reach her and Kelly claims he hasn’t seen her either. I’m wondering if you know where she is.” She carefully studied Finkleberg’s face. The blank expression indicated he had regained his composure.

  “I have no idea where Sophia is,” he said, getting up from his chair. “Since I’ve given my statement to the police about the embezzlement, they have all my information should they find the money. All I have to do is pack my few things for the last flight out of here this evening.”

  With Finkleberg on his way back to Michigan and Sophia missing, Jonelle wasn’t feeling too confident in her ability to discover more about Susanna.

  “Have you ever been to Kelly’s office? When he wasn’t there?”

  Finkleberg hesitated. He turned, curled his lip in a nasty snarl and stomped out.

  She couldn’t stop Finkleberg from walking out of the bar; right now there was nothing else she could get out of the man.

  For several minutes after he’d gone, Jonelle sat in the chair, staring out the window. She hadn’t felt this useless in a very long time. The case was in danger of stagnating and she didn’t like it one bit. She exhaled a long burst of air and frustration and decided she needed fresh insights. For that, she’d call Adrienne and run by what she’d found out about everything so far. Her best friend could be overwhelming sometimes but also enlightening at others.

  Jonelle left Finkleberg’s hotel and headed for her Jeep. As she settled behind the wheel, the Hawaii Five-O theme rang in her purse. She glanced at the phone’s display. Detective T. Burton’s name appeared. She sighed and considered not answering but changed her mind. He might be calling to give her information about Finkleberg’s interview.

  After her hello, she listened in stunned silence as Burt announced that the body of Sophia Reyes was discovered in an alley near the Lancelot Inn.

  CHAPTER 35

  “I cannot believe this. What the hell’s going on?” Jonelle threw her bag on Burt’s desk. She was angry. Angry at herself, angry at Finkleberg for his evasiveness and angry at Kelly for what she perceived was his lack of honesty. She glared at the detective before taking the seat across from him.

  Burt raised his hands in an effort to ward off the outrage coming from Jonelle’s mouth. “I need you to calm down,” he said. “You didn’t have to come all the way back here. I could’ve met you at your office.”

  “Yeah. Well, I’m here now. Are you going to give me any information or not? After all, the woman was my client.” Tears welled in the back of Jonelle’s eyes. The emotion shocked her. She didn’t know Sophia that well, so how to explain the feeling? Was it empathy? Or maybe frustration at being thwarted at every turn the moment she felt she was getting close to the answers she sought. Jonelle willed the tears to stay put. Even so, she felt like running outside, and standing in the middle of the street, screaming her freaking head off. No amount of odd behavior or evasiveness should have warranted the woman’s death. Jonelle took several deep breaths.

  “Better now?” Burt asked.

  “What happened?” she managed.

  “Okay. Just the facts ma’am, right?” Burt’s smile faded as Jonelle’s lips pursed in a tight, straight line. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “The department received a call of a woman’s body lying in an alley between a liquor store and a discount electronics store. The location is near the Lancelot Inn which is a—”

  “I know what it is,” Jonelle interrupted.

  Burt continued without acknowledging Jonelle’s words. “The caller admitted he’d gone back there to take a leak and noticed a pair of legs sticking out from behind two large metal bins. He said he thought maybe somebody had thrown out a mannequin since there’s a clothing store a few doors down. Guy decided to grab it and play a joke on his friends.

  “When he got closer, he noticed the blood, backed out of there almost at a run and called us. Claimed he didn’t see anything but blood before dialing nine eleven.”

  “You believe him?”

  “No reason not to. His friends were in the bar and can verify he’d arrived with them and they’d been there for at least two hours. The M. E. says the body hadn’t been there long. The blood was fresh, her skin barely cold to the touch and no rigor.”

  “Nobody heard or saw anything?”

  “As of right now, no. But the investigation’s at the beginning stages so that may change.”

  Jonelle stood and paced the length of Burt’s cubicle. She grasped her gold necklace and worked the charms through her fingers.

  Burt’s eyes followed her movements.

  Before completing the fifth circuit, Jonelle stopped, stood still and took several deep breaths.

  With one hand Burt indicated the guest chair. Jonelle sat.

  In a calm, quiet voice, Burt said, “She was found with her throat cut. The preliminary exam indicated it was similar to her sister’s. Her clothes weren’t disturbed, so it doesn’t look like a sexual assault, at least not now. She still had her purse and a wallet with a couple hundred dollars and two credit cards. Leaving the money tells me they want to send a message. What that message is and who it’s meant for is a mystery.”

  “Was she wearing a ring?” Jonelle remembered the first time she met Sophia, the woman’s fingers were bare. Sophia had told her she didn’t want to risk wearing a ring in the area, yet she was found with money and credit cards on her person.

  “Her hands were bare. Why?”

  “Married women wear rings.”

  For a few moments Jonelle didn’t speak. She looked up at the ceiling and willed that the moisture again pooling in her eyes, wouldn’t spill down her cheek. Jonelle blinked rapidly several times.

  “You don’t look so good. Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Coffee?”

  Jonelle shook her head. She wondered how she’d be able to lift herself off the chair and out of the building to get to her car.

  The phone on Burt’s desk rang. “Hold on a sec.”

  Jonelle stared off into the distance. Burt’s loud “what the hell?” brought her attention back to him. He looked at Jonelle. His already round eyes opened even wider. “I don’t fu … uh, don’t believe it. Check the file again on Susanna. Make sure the composition is the same.”

 
She leaned forward as he slammed down the phone. “What? What’s going on?”

  “Nobody noticed before because of all the blood, but once they cleaned it off, they noticed that like Susanna, Sophia’s face had been painted.”

  “What the hell’s going on Burt?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  “This isn’t just about the money any more, is it?”

  He shook his head. “If it ever was. I gotta get Finkleberg back here.” He grabbed his phone, made several calls, the gist of which Jonelle surmised was meant to prevent Finkleberg from leaving Maryland and heading back to Michigan. “Guy had all the right answers earlier,” Burt said after he placed the last call. “This changes everything.”

  Jonelle leaned her elbow on the desk. “You think he had something to do with Sophia’s death?”

  “He comes to town and there’s another dead body? You know as well as I do that cops don’t like coincidences.”

  “What about Kelly?”

  “What about him?” Burt two-finger typed on his keyboard, paused and read information on the screen.

  Jonelle waited a few beats before she repeated her question. “Have you considered Kelly as a possible suspect?”

  The lines between Burt’s brows indicated he was distracted at this latest news. She persisted. There was something off about Kelly and she wanted Burt to know.

  “I think Kelly, and maybe Finkleberg are the reason I got mugged,” she said, the words tumbling out. “They didn’t see me, but whoever attacked me stopped me long enough for the two to escape out the back way.”

  Burt pointed his index finger at her. “I’m not gonna lecture you about keeping out of police business ’cause you don’t listen anyway.” He turned back to his computer and after a few clicks started typing. “Okay, I noted what you just said. Got any other news for me?”