Steamed (A Maid in LA Mystery)

by Holly Jacobs

  “He’ll think less of me.”

  I knew that Sal wouldn’t hold her past against her. But I understood her worries. What she should be worried about was the police putting her on their suspect list, but her first thoughts were for Sal because she loved him. She loved him absolutely and completely.

  And that’s how he loved her in return.

  With that kind of love, I knew his concern would be for Tiny, not the pictures. But I could understand her fear.

  “Tiny, he loves you,” I tried, but she still looked scared to death. “Listen, you told me and I don’t think less of you. I think you are brilliant and the best friend anyone could ever have. I adore you. So does Sal. More than that, he loves you heart and soul. He can forgive anything. He’ll want to be there for you. You just have to talk to him.”

  “But…”

  “Trust me.”

  She nodded. “I’ll trust you and I’ll tell him. He deserves to know the truth.”

  “You’ll cover for me the rest of the week?”

  “You know I will. For however long it takes.”

  “Great. I’ve got to make a few calls.”

  My first call was to Tessa Compernalle, then I was going to call a certain cop with a killer voice and see if we could get together for dinner. I planned on grilling…not the food, but him.

  That evening, I was sitting at Big G’s, drinking a glass of red wine and dipping some whole wheat Italian bread into a plate of peppered olive oil.

  “If he stands you up, I’ll have dinner with you.” Big G had sat down at my table when I came in.

  “Thank you.” It was nice to feel wanted.

  Big G wiggled his massive eyebrows and grinned as he added, “Cal’s a good friend, but he doesn’t deserve a woman like you.”

  “Do you hit on all the women who come in here?” I asked.

  “Only the very pretty ones.”

  I snorted. “Pretty is for teenage girls. I’m a mature woman. The mother of three teenagers. I’m not pretty.”

  “You’re beaut—”

  “Tony, you are a very nice man, and a wonderful cook but it’s not going to happen,” I scolded him with a smile.

  “That’s okay, I just enjoy flirting. And here comes Cal. I really enjoy flirting with you in front of him. He doesn’t seem to like it, and I’m a good enough friend to want to annoy him whenever I can.”

  I laughed. “You two act like my boys.”

  “What?” Cal said, scowling at me.

  Big G got up. “I’d better go finish off your dinners.”

  I nodded at the chair and grumpy, growly Cal sat down. “Well?”

  “I invited you to dinner to pay you back for feeding me the other day. Big G said he knew what you liked.”

  That obviously wasn’t the response he’d anticipated. His scowl eased up a bit. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “My Uncle Bill says the only things you have to do in life are die and pay taxes. He was always meticulous about paying his taxes because he didn’t want to go back to jail.”

  Talking about dying reminded me of poor Mr. Banning, bludgeoned by his Mortie. A Mortie I cleaned.

  A man who’d taken pictures of my best friend.

  I was on a mission.

  “So, how was work today?” I asked as innocently as I could manage.

  Obviously not innocently enough because Cal glared at me. “Are you still investigating? If I were the kind of man who used air quotes, I’d have used them around that word.”

  “Was that humor?” I asked.

  “I don’t think that you showing up at that party was funny at all.”

  Darn. I’d reminded him about the party. “I didn’t invite you here to discuss the second job I work in order to support my three sons. I asked you here as a way to repay your kindness. I simply asked about your day because I don’t know you well enough to ask about anything else.”

  He frowned, as if he didn’t believe me. Which made me feel a little better about his investigating capabilities because, in fact, he shouldn’t trust me.

  “How was your day?” he countered.

  “I heard from my boys and they’re having fun on vacation with their dad and stepmother.”

  “Jerome and Peri,” he said with a nod. “The man has more money than Croesus and a habit of marrying girls. That must make you mad.”

  “How do you know about Jerome?” I asked slowly.

  “I’m a detective, remember? You are not. Stay away from suspects.”

  “Do you want to give me a list of people I should stay away from? I mean, if you don’t, I won’t have any idea who I can be around and who I can’t.”

  “Quincy, I don’t want to charge you with obstruction, but I will, if only to keep you safe from yourself.”

  Big G appeared at our table with two plates. “Dinner is served.”

  “Big G, would you threaten to charge a woman who’d invited you to dinner to say thank you with obstruction?”

  “Of course not,” the he said.

  “I didn’t think so.” I stood. “Would you mind boxing up my dinner? I’ll just take it to go. Have a great supper, Detective.”

  I stormed after Big G, toward the kitchen. Paid the bill and left a hefty tip, then took my to-go bag and left the restaurant out the kitchen door. Cal was sitting on my car. “I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he said. “Someone killed Banning. What if by some fluke you figured out who it was? I don’t think the murderer would be pleased. You could be next.”

  “It’s nice that you’re worried.” It was a little nice. Annoying but nice. I’d been on my own since Jerry and I divorced. It felt odd to have a man care about me. “But seriously, what are the odds I’d even come close to finding the killer—if I were still investigating, which I’m not.”

  “Fine. Then could we please have dinner together?” He held his own take out box. “I know someplace we can go.”

  “Fine.”

  “First things first. Wait here a minute.” He went back into Big G’s and came out a few minutes later with a bag.

  Then we drove in silence.

  I should have been grilling him. I should have been trying to find out if he had any new leads on the case that could help me. And by helping me, help Tiny. I needed to find the murderer so they didn’t start looking at Tiny.

  But instead of trying to find out if Cal knew anything new, I sat back and allowed him to drive me wherever he intended to drive me.

  I thought maybe a park. But instead, we pulled in at the Hollywood Bowl. The very quiet, obviously nothing going on tonight, Hollywood Bowl.

  He parked the car and grinned. “I know someone who said he could get us in.”

  A security guard met us and let us in. The two men exchanged how’re-you’s and seemed to find a brotherhood in the fact they both had badges.

  “Trading on your job for favors.” I tsked him. “That’s a slippery slope, Officer.”

  “Detective. And I didn’t trade anything for a favor. I’ll be keeping my eye out for trouble while we picnic here, so you could say, I was doing The Hollywood Bowl a favor.”

  I laughed at his logic.

  The boys and I had picnicked here before. There were lovely little grassy sections that overlooked the amphitheater. They were first come first serve on a concert night. Tonight we were the only people here, so they were all ours.

  “This is nice,” I said. It wasn’t just nice. It was romantic sitting here on a blanket he’d pulled out of the bag he’d brought from Big G.’s. He pulled out glasses, wine and our to-go boxes.

  Definitely romantic.

  I was out with a man on a romantic sort of date.

  Of course, I was here to pump him for information, but for a moment, I was just going to enjoy myself and forget this wasn’t a real date. “I’ve brought the kids here for concerts in the past, and we’ve picnicked here, but it was busy and crazy. This isn’t that.”

  It was quiet and peaceful. Yeah, it was definitely romant
ic.

  “Tell me about your family,” he said.

  I studied him as he took a bite of his pasta from the take-out box. Was he interrogating me?

  “What do you want to know that you haven’t already found out when you investigated me?”

  “Quincy…”

  I sighed. “Fine. I’m a black sheep.”

  “Your family’s all doctors except you and an uncle.”

  “Uncle Bill. But despite the fact they don’t understand me, they love me. My oldest son, he’s a Mac through and through. My youngest is a march-to-the-beat-of-his-own-drum sort of kid.”

  “Like his mom?”

  I nodded. “Maybe.”

  “And Miles?”

  That gave me a start. “You know my kids’ names?”

  “I know a lot of facts about you, Quincy. But not the rest. As a detective, I collect facts. When I get enough, I can see the big picture. But that’s not what I want with you. I want more than the big picture.”

  Something in me that I’d tucked away for a long time warmed. He wanted to know more about me. I focused on his last question. “Miles is like his father. He’s got an ability to see a ton of small details and piece them together to get a great sense of the whole. He’s produced and directed his school’s plays and…”

  Instead of interrogating Cal, I went on a mother-overload. It’s fun to have someone who wants to listen to how great your kids are.

  Dinner was over and we had an empty wine bottle and two take-out containers.

  “I should get home. It’s a work day tomorrow,” I said regretfully.

  “For me, too,” he said.

  “Yeah. I want you at top form. Find the killer, Cal. I don’t want to go to jail because I accidently cleaned a murder scene.” More than that, I didn’t want Tiny being investigated, or worse charged, with a murder I knew she hadn’t committed.

  “Big G. was going to send you a file in some pasta if you do,” he teased.

  I might not have known it was teasing before, but it was. I was certain. “And what would you do?”

  “I’m an officer of the law. I couldn’t help you escape, but I’d visit.”

  “That’s not very comforting.”

  “I wouldn’t turn in Big G.” He was teasing again.

  “And if I escaped and called you from my South American exile, would you go out with me again?”

  He smiled in such a way that I knew the teasing was over. “You could bank on it. And if I weren’t investigating a case that you’re a witness in, I’d lean over and kiss you right now.”

  “And if you weren’t trying to send me up or down the river, I might let you.”

  We got up and walked toward the car. Cal’s hand reached over and took mine.

  It was a little gesture, but I sort of melted.

  Now, I really had to find Mr. Banning’s killer. Not only to keep me untattooed and to keep Tiny’s pictures out of the tabloids. We had to find out who murdered Mr. Banning so that I could kiss Cal Parker.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, Tessa Compernalle opened the door moments after I knocked on her posh condo’s bright red door.

  “Hi, I’m Quincy Mac, from Mac’Cleaners. We spoke on the phone.”

  Tessa was a beautiful woman. But it was a hard, severe sort of beauty. If I were casting Snow White, she would make a wonderful queen. She didn’t smile, but tilted her head slightly, as if she were indeed royalty acknowledging a peasant. Dark hair, red lips, pale skin. The whole nine yards.

  Oh, if I were casting a vampire show, she’d be perfect as well.

  A vampire queen.

  But Tessa was an anomaly in Hollywood. Her only connection to the industry that I could find was through her ex-husband. She was a lawyer by trade. Not even some industry lawyer. No, she did corporate sort of law. That much I’d found online.

  “And there’s no charge?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am. It’s part of Mac’Cleaners summer introductory program. We’re giving away our hour spruce-up services. Of course, we’d love if you became a regular client, but if you don’t, we hope that you’re happy with our services and that you recommend us to friends and family. Twenty referrals will earn you another spruce-up.”

  I handed her our ‘official’ form. The form I’d made up yesterday. “Here are the terms of the promotion.”

  She read through it, and then looked up at me. “Fine. I checked and your company is legit. I spoke to Karen Mays. She’s used your services and had good things to say about your company.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad Ms. Mays was happy with our cleaning services.”

  “I am working from my home office, so the rest of the house is yours.”

  “I’ll get started then. Do you mind if I look around and decide what needs done?”

  “Feel free. I normally clean on Saturdays, just dusting and the floor. I do the kitchen as I go.”

  Tessa’s home was…sleek was the best word I could think of to describe it. It wasn’t a mansion by any stretch, but everything about it screamed I-have-taste-and-money. As well as, I-have-nothing-to-prove. The hardwood floors were polished to the point of almost shining. The furniture was all white. I swear, I’d never let my boys in the house. Boys and white furniture do not go together. Boys and black furniture isn’t exactly safe either.

  There was a full wall of bookshelves. Bookshelves without a paperback in sight. All the books were old and leather.

  I walked from there into a formal dining room. The table was some kind of very dark wood and looked like an antique. It was the kind of table I could picture Napoleon eating at. It was far too ornate for my taste. The chairs’ seat-cushions were upholstered in a heavy white fabric that seemed to balance beautifully with the equally heavy, dark wood.

  The kitchen was stark. White cupboards. White marble counters. A black and white tiled floor. Black cannisters. And a vase of bright, red roses.

  It was beautiful…and cemented my Snow White impression even further.

  I dusted. Then I went out to the van, got my steam mop and did the floors. But basically I looked for clues.

  I don’t know what I was expecting to find. There wouldn’t be a gun since Mr. Banning had been bludgeoned, and I’d already cleaned the murder weapon.

  I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary or vaguely suspicious.

  When I finished dusting and the floors, I made my way to the bedrooms. One of which Tessa obviously used as a home office. She waved as I walked by and continued with her phone call. I dusted her master bedroom and eavesdropped.

  “…I know.”

  There was a long pause as she listened to whatever the other person was saying.

  “You can’t imagine who’d kill him? I can’t imagine who wouldn’t, given the opportunity. You know what I went through with the man all those years. And then to find out he’d had a mistress on the side for more than half our marriage?”

  She laughed at whatever the other person said. “No, I’d have never murdered him. That’s too quick. I just took him for half of everything he owned. Watching him leave the house with just a suitcase and a box of personal items was a worthy revenge.”

  Another pause.

  “Are you kidding? I tied up any of my own assets. He didn’t get a cent of mine.”

  Her laughter was exactly what I’d have imagined the wicked queen sounding like as she fed Snow White the apple and watched her fall. “Darling, never, ever piss off an attorney. We don’t have to kill you. We just leave you wishing you were dead.”

  I didn’t need to do any other digging. I was pretty sure that Tessa Compernalle hadn’t killed Mr. Banning. No, she’d simply hit him in his wallet and taken half his assets.

  I finished cleaning the house and walked back to the office. Tessa walked out and smiled. “You do nice work.”

  “Thank you. We pride ourselves in doing a good job. You have our card. Please feel free to call us for any of your housekeeping needs. And if you truly like the
work, we hope you’ll mention us to your friends.”

  “I will.” She shook my hand and studied me for a moment. “Have we met?”

  “I used to be married to Jerome Smith.”

  She grinned and looked much softer because of it. “I used to be married to Steve Banning. That must be it. I never forget a face, though I’ve been known to forget a name.”

  “We cleaned for Mr. Banning until…” I left the sentence hanging. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “I’m afraid he wasn’t much of a loss to anyone. He was a narcissist. And a bit of a pig.”

  She must have realized how that sounded because she shook her head, and her hard smile slipped a notch and suddenly I saw behind the hard façade. There was a woman there who’d been hurt. Who was still hurting all these years later.

  “Sorry,” she said. “He wasn’t much of a human being, but he didn’t deserve to die like that. Sometimes, I remember how he was before he made it big in Hollywood. Winning that Mortie was the worst thing that ever happened to him. He spent the rest of his career trying to garner more accolades. Nominations didn’t count. He worried more about potential awards than a good product. But I still remember the man who wanted to tell a good story. A man who loved me. That’s the man I mourn.”

  Tessa had to be about my age, but I still felt a maternal need to comfort her. “I’m so sorry.”

  She gave herself a little shake and then smiled. “Thank you. And thank you for cleaning. It looks wonderful. I will be calling your service again.”

  I left and was loading up the cleaning van when a car pulled up behind me. Someone got out. The sun was behind them, so it was hard to make out the details. But as the person walked toward me, I heard them growl and I knew who it was. “Officer,” I said out of some need to annoy him.

  “Detective,” He said automatically. “What are you doing here? I warned you about interfering with my investigation.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was here cleaning a house. I’m a maid. It’s what I do.”

  He made that loud, low sound of strangled frustration again. “Quincy.”

  “It’s an honest living,” I said. “Maybe not glamorous by Hollywood standards, but it’s honest, and I’m good at bringing order to chaos.” And as I said the words, I realized that’s what this investigation was. Taking snippets and bits from Mr. Banning’s life and finding some order in them. Heck, I’d been training to be an investigator for my entire adult life.