by Elaine Macko
The restaurant Shirley suggested was one of those new trendy places with a name derived from the street address. This one was located at seven-fifty-four on the river road, hence the name, 754. Shirley was seated at a table by a large fireplace and greeted me with a warm smile.
“What a nice surprise, Alex. What brings you to Westport?”
I placed my coat over the back of my chair and sat down. “Actually, I was in Bridgeport. I took the train to New York this morning to talk with Mr. Hildebrand.”
“You should have called,” Shirley said. “I’ve been busy all morning, but I could have rearranged a few things.”
“It was literally a last-minute decision,” I lied. “So what kind of case are you working on now? Who needs the dirt on whom?” I didn’t want to just jump in and accuse the woman of lying to me all this time, and besides, I was hungry. I thought it best to eat first then get into the uncomfortable stuff later.
A waiter came by and took our drink orders and left two menus on the table.
“No dirt on this case, at least none I’ve found so far. I was hired by a man who wants to buy into a small company here in town. He needs me to do a background check on the current owner, who he would eventually partner with, and the other employees. He also wants me to find what the current health of the business is in general. So far it seems to be a sound investment. My client is retired, but too young to hang it up all together, so he’s looking to buy into an established company. So,” Shirley leaned forward on the table, clasping her hands in front of her. “Has something else happened? Why did you need to see the gallery owner again?”
Was Shirley acting too eager about my case? Darn that sister of mine for putting these doubts into my head.
“All this time I’ve been assuming the killer had to be someone at the dinner, because no one saw a stranger come in.”
“And now you found out the gallery owner was there?” Shirley asked.
I shook my head. “No. I found out the side door of the Veterans Hall was open most of the night. It’s right next to the place where Humphrey died.” I watched Shirley’s face for any sign of guilt, but didn’t see anything.
“I see. So a total stranger could have come in and you thought it might be Mr. Hildebrand.” Shirley nodded her approval. “Good to check it out.”
The waiter came back with our teas and a basket of assorted breads, and took our order. I chose a bowl of vegetable soup and a salad with pieces of chicken and shredded bacon and Shirley ordered the house pizza. Once he left an awkward silence seemed to settle over the table for a couple of minutes.
Shirley took a sip of her tea and then gently placed the mug back on the table. “I think you want to ask me something so why don’t you just do it and get it over with?”
Chapter 39
I’ve solved a few murders over the last couple years and for the most part, I think I have a real knack for this stuff. But here’s where the police shine. John would just jump in and ask the woman point blank whatever it was he wanted to know, but being a good people person like I am, it also means I tend to make personal connections I assume I wouldn’t do if I had a badge and this was a real job.
Looking across at Shirley, I didn’t get the feeling she was upset with me. Of course, she also did this kind of thing for a living and maybe some things just went along with the job, like asking a new friend if they were a killer.
“Look,” I said, feeling like a heel. “My sister said I only had your word for what you’ve told me so far about your investigation into Humphrey. I never once thought you to be anything but honest and forthcoming.”
“Then you’re a fool,” Shirley said without malice. “You want to be a detective, amateur or not, you can’t get caught up in these Hallmark moments. You’re trying to solve a crime for the widow and you have to follow every lead. So ask your questions. It’s hard because we’ve become friends, but your sister is right. Do your job.”
I took a deep breath and plunged in. “Was Humphrey blackmailing you?”
Shirley smiled. “I thought you were going to ask if I killed him.”
“That’s my next question, depending on how you answer my first.” Now it was my turn to smile.
Shirley buttered a piece of brown bread. “No, he wasn’t blackmailing me. I’m fairly certain he had no idea I was following him, but you never know. Maybe he did and just didn’t get around to making me an offer I couldn’t refuse before he was killed. I like to think I’m smarter and do a better job than that pea brain Roder, but Humphrey was a sly one, I’ll give him that.”
“And if he did plan on blackmailing you,” I began, “was there anything to find?”
The waiter brought our food and asked if we needed anything else and then left.
“I got married young, had my kids, took some classes at night, my husband died and that’s about it. I dated a couple of jerks in high school, dated a man for about a year a couple of years ago.” Shirley gave me a shrug. “Anything there worth blackmailing about?”
“Doesn’t sound like it,” I said.
“I think that side door being open gives you a few more choices of a killer, including Roder. Sophie told me she and Humphrey were going to the supper that night so I didn’t follow him, but maybe Roder still was and saw an opportunity to get more money out of Humphrey, they fought and one of them ended up dead. And did you say that Roder saw Humphrey get on the train?”
“He did. But he didn’t follow him.”
“Says who?” Shirley asked.
“Right. So maybe he did go to New York and went back at some point, like we did, and like I did today, and found out something he could use against Humphrey.”
“Did you get anymore out of the gallery owner today?”
“Not too much. Humphrey did want him to sell some art, some questionable stuff, and Mr. Hildebrand said no. Then Humphrey came back to him with the dirt on his arrest in London and Mr. Hildebrand still refused to deal with him. He told me Humphrey said he would be back with a few items, but then he was killed and that was that.”
“Did you believe him?” Shirley finished the last bite of her pizza and pushed the plate away.
“Yes, I did believe him. Of course it could all be a big lie. Maybe he already has whatever Humphrey wanted sold and plans to sell it at some point and pocket the money.”
“I’m not sure how you could find that out except to ask Sophie, but if Humphrey had some secret items, Sophie may not know whether they’re missing or not.”
“I thought the same exact thing and talked to her on Wednesday. She told me nothing was missing as far as she could tell. Maybe I should check again, but she left for Wisconsin and won’t be back for a few days.” I pushed my salad plate away. “I feel like I’m back to square one. Maybe the murder is what it initially seemed—a fight with one of the pickleball players that got out of hand.
Chapter 40
We paid for our lunch and walked outside. I said good-bye to Shirley and told her I would let her know if I found out anything else.
I was once again aware of the fact I only had Shirley’s word on any of the things she told me over lunch. Did I really think she would look me in the eye across the table and admit to killing Humphrey Bryson? It didn’t sound like she had anything in her past worth being blackmailed over, but who knew for sure. There must be some sort of state board regulating private investigators and maybe I should check it out and see if there were any complaints filed against Shirley or her business.
I headed back to Indian Cove and found myself in front of Meme’s. I was halfway up the walk when her neighbor came out and said she and Theresa had just headed over to the community center for pickleball.
I got back in my car and a few minutes later I walked into the center.
The game of pickleball started back in the nineteen-sixties, when some bored people tried to play badminton but couldn’t find a shuttlecock. They improvised with a small ball, much like a Wiffleball, and lo and behold a new game e
merged—or so Meme tells me. The truth is I never heard of it until my grandmother’s friends got involved, but it looked like a fun game and anything to keep seniors moving and healthy was a good idea. Personally, I never liked tennis and this just looked too similar, so I doubted I’d be joining a team and becoming a pickler, as the players were called, anytime soon.
“Alex!”
I heard my name and turned to see Meme and Theresa waving me over.
“I stopped by your house. I didn’t know there was another game today.”
“Storms coming. Going to be a big one. Figured we better get out while we could,” my grandmother told me.
Everyone talked about global warming but you couldn’t tell it by New England. Seemed like one storm dumped a ton of snow and within forty-eight hours another one arrived. The city was running out of places to put all the snow.
“Your mom says your treatment went real good.” Meme patted my hand.
“It did. It was nice to have her along and other than a bit of stiffness in the morning, I feel good.
“I bet a lot of your pain the last month was stress and worrying about it. Now that you know what you got and you’re getting help, you won’t be so anxious.” My grandmother was a pretty smart woman.
“Looks like all the same people as the other day,” I said. I glanced around and saw Meme’s crowd, the calendar boys, and a bunch of people from the Pirates Cove team.
“Yep. There’s another guy here who didn’t show up on Tuesday, but he was at the supper so you may want to talk with him.” Meme pointed a finger at a tall, thin guy in his late sixties. “That’s Peter Gaffney. Nice guy. Quiet. Some of the ladies call him stud muffin. We were thinking about putting him in the calendar, but he doesn’t live in our community so we nixed it.” Meme continued her intense stare at the man. “Maybe for the next one. Anyway, boy, did he hate Humphrey.”
I turned to look at my grandmother. “Really? Why?” I was also wondering why this juicy little tidbit was just now falling into my lap.
“Peter owns a lot of property, more than Humphrey did, and he scooped up a couple of old brownstones in New Haven several months back that he plans to renovate and rent out. Talk is Humphrey really wanted those houses, but Peter outbid him and old Humph doesn’t have any pull in New Haven, so he couldn’t blackmail anyone into letting him win the auction.”
“Seems like more of a reason why Humphrey would want to kill Peter, not the other way around,” I said, though of course they could have fought, and the much thinner and better fit Peter won.
“That’s not all of it. Tell her, Meme.” Theresa nudged my grandmother’s arm.
“Tell me what?” I leaned in to hear Meme over the noise of the pickleball players.
“Now that Humphrey is dead the rumors are flying that Peter and the widow Bryson are hot and heavy. Have been for some time now, according to what everyone is saying. No one knows if Humphrey was on to them or not.”
“Is this Peter guy married?” I asked.
“Used to be. Wife up and left him for some hot shot Wall Street type about thirty years her junior.”
So there was no wife sitting at home that Humphrey could use to blackmail Peter with, that is, if Humphrey had any idea his own wife and Peter were having an affair. But knowing Humphrey the way I was beginning to, he wouldn’t let another man steal some coveted property, let alone his wife, right out from under him without taking revenge. I needed to talk with Peter Gaffney and now was as good a time as any.
Chapter 41
I made my way over to where Mr. Gaffney stood, but just as I got there he turned and walked away with one of the Pirates Cove players. They walked across the gym to another court and started playing.
I turned to go back to my seat, but saw Marie Dupre by the water fountain.
“Hi, Marie, do you have a minute?”
Marie wiped her chin on her sleeve. “Hello, Alex. I wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me? For what?”
“Didn’t you speak to Terry Roder after we talked? About, you know,” Marie lowered her voice, “about the blackmail?”
“No, I didn’t talk to him. Why? Has something happened?”
Marie smiled. “That’s exactly it. Nothing. He didn’t contact me yesterday. He was coming by almost every day for money, but nothing for a couple of days now.”
Another thing John wasn’t telling me. Obviously the police talked to the guy after I told John about Terry Roder’s penchant for blackmail. The police must have put the fear of God in the man.
“I’m glad he’s leaving you alone, but I have something else I’d like to discuss with you. Is Sid here, by the way?”
Marie shook her head. “He’s working. Another storm is heading our way so he’s getting all the plows ready. What did you want to talk about?”
“Norbert Meyer.”
Marie’s face went white. “Why? What did he say?”
“He told me you two talked the night of the supper.”
“Did we? I’m not sure I remember. There were so many people and of course I wanted to make sure I got your calendar.” She started to smile and then changed her mind. “Okay, look. Humphrey knew about Norbert and me. Norbert told me this on Saturday night and said I should be prepared for Humphrey to tell Sid because, well that’s what Humphrey did. I had no idea Humphrey knew about the two of us.” Marie shook her head in disgust. “I begged Norbert to pay Humphrey whatever he was asking for, but he said Humphrey didn’t ask him for anything. Norbert said we should break it off anyway. He felt bad about what he was doing to Sid.”
“So what did you do then?” I asked.
“As soon as I could, I went to talk to Humph and asked him not to tell Sid about Norbert. That’s why we were dancing. He said he wouldn’t say anything as long as I met him down at the beach after the party. Then Sid saw us dancing and all hell broke loose and then you came over.”
“And where was Norbert all this time?”
“I don’t know. After he broke it off with me I didn’t see him again. He may have just left.”
Or maybe Norbert Meyer was just as angry about Marie dancing with Humphrey as Sid had been. Maybe Sid and Norbert dragged Humphrey into the ladies room and shoved a pickle in the man’s mouth just to shut him up, but then things got out of hand. I had no idea, but it was as good a scenario as any of the others I had come up with.
I looked over to where Peter Gaffney was still playing, but it didn’t look like he had any plans to stop in the near future.
I walked back toward my grandmother and sat down and pulled out my iPad. I Googled Shirley Reynolds. A lot of stuff came up about her PI business and I scanned through it, not finding anything untoward. A mixed doubles game was just breaking up. Lester and Phyllis Holt had been two of the players. Lester walked over to his gym bag and pulled out a piece of gum and shoved it in his mouth and then moved over to where a couple of the calendar boys were standing.
I put the iPad back in my bag and walked over to where Phyllis sat and took a seat next to her.
“How are things going?”
Phyllis pulled her thick hair back and secured it with a clip. “Good. Good. I’ve taken the first steps in lining up some tutoring jobs. And Lester is running for the town council unopposed.”
“Humphrey’s death seems to have worked out well for you?”
Phyllis sighed. “I’m not a bad person. I would never wish harm to another, but Humphrey was making my life hell and I could see more trouble coming once the whole election campaign got under way. No matter how many times I met him at the beach, he would sling my past drinking problem far and wide trying to discredit Lester. Or he would pressure me for more, um, things, to keep quiet. I hate the beach. Even sitting in a car you seem to bring home a ton of sand.” She shook her head and a strand of hair came loose. “We didn’t kill the man, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m sorry someone died, really, I am, but Humphrey was not a nice person.”
“Are you sure your hu
sband didn’t know about your meetings with Humphrey? If he did, he might take matters into his own hands.”
Phyllis thought about this for a moment. “In all the time I had my drinking problem Lester never once let me down. He offered to go to counseling, to send me to rehab, and he took over with our daughter when I wasn’t up to it.” Phyllis dabbed at a tear with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “He was beyond patient with me.”
“It sounds like he would do anything for you,” I said.
“He would. Wait, are you implying he would kill for me?”
I shrugged and I could see the fear in Phyllis’s face.
“Look, I’m sorry, I have to go. My daughter is picking me up any minute.” Phyllis’ face brightened. “She left work early and we’re going to dinner and a play in New Haven. I have to go home and clean up. Oh, there she is!” Phyllis stood up and walked to the far side of the gym.
I turned to watch her go. There were several people standing by the large double doors obscuring my view. Phyllis squeezed her way through the group and reached out to hug someone and I almost fell off my chair. Phyllis Holt’s daughter was the lovely Suzanne.
Chapter 42
As far as Peter Gaffney knew, Humphrey Bryson had no idea about the affair Mr. Gaffney was having with Sophie.
“How can you be so sure?” I asked the very nice looking Mr. Gaffney. “Sophie said all of a sudden Humphrey told her he wanted a divorce. Maybe it was because he found out.”
Peter shook his head of thick silvery-blondish hair. “I don’t think so. If he had, he would have taken revenge on me somehow and tormented his wife, but he didn’t do any of that. He just told her he wanted a divorce. Of course, Sophie had already decided to divorce him a few months ago. She was just getting her ducks in a row. I have plenty of money, but she said that she put up with him for so many years, she wasn’t going without her fair share.”
