The Dead-End Job Mysteries Box Set 2

by Elaine Viets

  Helen cried when she climbed out of the Igloo at high noon to greet her landlady. She limped over to her, wearing a blue surgical boot.

  “Stop that crying,” Margery said. “I’m free and it’s over. Now we’re going to sue the Snakehead Bay Police Department.”

  “Just what I wanted to hear,” Nancie said, shaking Margery’s hand. “I’ve brought the paperwork. We can go over it while Helen drives us home, and I’ll file suit first thing Monday morning. What do you want now?”

  “To go home,” Margery said.

  The lawyer held the car door open for Margery, who thoughtfully ground out her cigarette before she sat down. Helen nodded her thanks. Once Nancie and her client were in the backseat, Helen started the Igloo.

  “Nice footwear, Helen,” Margery said. “What happened?”

  “She was wounded in the line of duty,” Nancie said.

  “It’s not that bad,” Helen said. “Daisy cracked my ankle with a baseball bat. I’m stuck with the boot for six weeks. She needed seven stitches when I sliced her arm with a three-pronged cultivator and she’s wearing her own surgical boot.”

  “I hope you broke her foot,” Margery said.

  “No such luck. I stabbed her foot, but she broke it when she tripped over a concrete cherub while she was chasing me.”

  “I love the symbolism. Tripped by an angel,” Margery said. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but what took you so long? Daisy was arrested Tuesday night.”

  “She was taken into custody when the police found the body of her Aunt Tillie in the garage freezer,” Helen said.

  “Daisy killed a sweet old lady?” Margery said.

  “Old, definitely,” Helen said. “But nobody called Aunt Tillie sweet. She’d promised Daisy her house in Delray after she died and let Daisy and Zach move in with her. Then the old tyrant turned Daisy into a drudge and cracked the whip on Zach.”

  Margery snorted. “How long did that last?”

  “Not sure,” Helen said. “I do know Zach bailed and bought his Snakehead Bay condo six months ago. After Zach moved out, the aunt died peacefully of a heart attack. Daisy stashed her body in the freezer and kept collecting Tillie’s Social Security.

  “Zach asked Daisy to move in with him, but she refused unless he married her. It was the one thing she’d wanted since they met.”

  “And Zach wouldn’t marry her,” Margery said.

  “He was still in love with you,” Helen said.

  Margery smiled, savoring her triumph over an old rival. Helen watched her landlady in the rearview mirror.

  “Tillie’s death taught Daisy how easy it was to get rid of someone. Everyone thought she was taking care of her beloved aunt. Nobody missed Tillie. Daisy knew Zach was too healthy to die of a heart attack like her aunt. But Zach was crazy about her apple pies, so she slowly poisoned him.”

  “Good old Daisy,” Margery said. “She believed the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, when she got old, anyway. Before that, she took the shortcut through his zipper.”

  Nancie laughed.

  “Be glad he loved her pies,” Helen said. “They were the cold, hard evidence of Zach’s murder, neatly stacked in his freezer and labeled in Daisy’s handwriting.”

  “The Snakehead Bay police never examined the pies?” Margery said.

  “Nope. They took the food from the fridge, but not the freezer,” Helen said.

  “Bozos,” Margery said.

  “I’ll make sure they pay for their incompetence,” Nancie said. “I’m grateful Phil and Helen were smart enough not to touch those pies. Once Helen caught Daisy, I made sure they were taken as evidence and tested at a police lab. I also got a piece for my own private lab test.”

  “The Delray Beach police found arsenic-based weed killer in Daisy’s garage,” Helen said. “Also in her kitchen, with the baking supplies. Right next to the brown sugar.”

  “I love it,” Margery said.

  “Finding Aunt Tillie’s body in the freezer was enough to keep Daisy in custody Tuesday night,” Helen said. “But the ME had to wait for the poor woman to thaw before she could be autopsied. It takes a while to defrost one hundred pounds of tough meat.”

  “Helen!” Nancie said.

  “It’s true,” Helen said. “The autopsy showed Aunt Tillie had been fed a hearty last meal and died of a massive coronary. Even if Daisy had called 911, she wouldn’t have been able to save her aunt.”

  “Helen recorded Daisy’s confession,” Nancie said. “It’s not admissible in court, but it confirmed her aunt’s autopsy findings.”

  “A second autopsy of Zach showed he died more slowly,” Helen said. “Daisy put small doses of arsenic in her pies, giving him dozens of unpleasant symptoms. You noticed some of them, Margery, including the Tums he took for his upset stomach. And you were right. Zach lost his hair.”

  “Of course I was right,” Margery said. “I know a wig when I see one.”

  “Daisy gloated that he was bald.”

  “Zach always was vain about his hair,” Margery said.

  “She tormented that man, killing him one piece at a time,” Helen said.

  “Was that a pun?” Margery asked.

  “You were stuck in jail until today because the lab tests took time,” Nancie said. “Once they established that Daisy had murdered Zach, she was charged with first-degree murder. She didn’t kill her aunt, but Daisy was charged with failure to report a death and improper disposal of a body. The police also found evidence of identity theft, fraud and misuse of a Social Security number. Daisy kept cashing Aunt Tillie’s Social Security checks after she was dead.

  “Florida is a death-penalty state, and messing with Social Security is a federal crime. Daisy will probably plead guilty rather than risk a trial.”

  “Now, that news is worth waiting for,” Margery said.

  “I’ve got other news you may not find so welcome,” Nancie said, quietly. “Zach doesn’t have any family to claim his body. You are his sole heir. He asked to be cremated. Will you handle his funeral?”

  “I owe him that much,” Margery said.

  “On a brighter note, Phil’s planning a welcome home barbecue tonight,” Helen said. “Are you up to it?”

  “Am I!” Margery said. “I can’t wait to eat something besides baloney sandwiches. Who’s coming?”

  “Peggy and Pete,” Helen said. “Her lawyer, Daniel, has to work late.”

  “So do I,” Nancie said.

  “Phil and I will be there,” Helen said.

  “What about Elsie?” Margery said.

  Helen fought to find the right words. “Uh, do you want her there?” she asked. “You said some harsh things the last time you saw her.”

  Margery sighed. “Elsie can be dumber than a post about people, but she’s still my oldest friend. She has a good heart. Neither one of us is getting any younger. I should forgive and forget. I’ll call her and invite her.”

  “The party starts at five,” Helen said. “She can bring a covered dish if she wants.”

  “All that’s left is the pleasant business of going over your lawsuit against Detective Whelan and the Snakehead Bay police,” Nancie said.

  “Can we get him fired?” Margery asked.

  “He certainly deserves it,” Nancie said. “Let’s discuss your options.”

  “Consider the chauffeur’s privacy window up,” Helen said. “I’ll concentrate on driving us home. Nancie’s car is at the Coronado.”

  Margery was initialing and signing the last page of some legal papers when the Igloo rounded the corner.

  Helen parked in front of the Coronado. Margery climbed out, lit a cigarette, and surveyed the construction work with satisfaction. The metal scaffolding looked like a teenager’s braces, and the smooth white stucco had a temporary case of gray acne. But they could see the building would soon be beautiful.

  “Will you look at that,” Margery said, blowing out a long trail of smoke. “I was gone at the right time. I missed the worst
of the dust and the noise.”

  “Phil handled it for you,” Helen said.

  Phil, Peggy and Pete were waiting for Margery in the backyard.

  “Hello!” Pete said from his perch on Peggy’s shoulder.

  Peggy, in a summery white pantsuit, presented Margery with a graceful purple orchid plant.

  Phil gave her a kiss and a bottle of champagne.

  “Let’s put that on ice for this evening,” Margery said, parading across her property in a triumphant cloud of tobacco smoke, a goddess surrounded by nicotine incense. “I want a shower and a nap. I’ll meet you outside by the pool later.”

  She unlocked her jalousie door and was greeted by the scent of lemon polish. The furniture sparkled and the windows shone. “You’ve cleaned my home,” she said. “The place hasn’t looked so good since I moved in. Thank you.”

  “Welcome back,” they said.

  “It’s good to be home,” Margery said, and carefully shut the door.

  At four thirty, Margery emerged from her home, a queen returning to her court. She wore her purple caftan like a royal robe, her hair was a silver crown, and a dramatic amethyst necklace caught the late-afternoon sun. Her wrinkles were once more elegant folds.

  She handed Helen a plate with six raw shrimp. “I thawed these for the fur bag,” she said. “He might as well celebrate, too.”

  Margery settled onto her chaise and lit a cigarette. Phil poured her a glass of wine, and went back to tending the barbecue.

  Helen fed Thumbs his treat, then brought out a platter of antipasto and a garlicky green salad for dinner. At Phil’s request, Peggy made his favorite casserole: green beans in mushroom soup topped with canned onion rings. Pete was given a cashew to celebrate Margery’s return.

  A little after five o’clock, Elsie tottered in on red platform shoes, wearing a sleeveless plaid jumpsuit. Red and blue streaks carried the colorful theme to her spiky hair.

  “Elsie!” they shouted. Helen took the platter of deviled eggs, and Phil carried off the bowl of mayonnaise potato salad she’d brought.

  “That’s all the food I could put together on short notice,” she said, in her soft, high voice.

  “It’s wonderful,” Helen said, hugging her. “And you’re here. We’re so glad.”

  Elsie went over to visit her old friend. Helen and Peggy kept busy with the antipasto to give the women privacy, but they caught a few phrases: “so sorry . . . overstepped . . . still friends.” Margery patted Elsie’s pale, veined hand and Phil poured another round of drinks.

  Soon after the reconciliation, Phil served a feast of meat—barbecued chicken, burgers, pork steaks and slabs of ribs—as well as butter-drenched roasted ears of corn. They filled their plates and sat at a folding table covered in purple. The graceful arc of the orchid served as the centerpiece.

  “Tell us about the cat case, Helen,” Margery commanded, and she did.

  “Justine stirred up a powerful lot of emotions for a tiny kitten,” Helen said. “Greed, envy, hatred—and love.”

  “Too much love, if you ask me,” Margery said. “Trish Barrymore paid half a million dollars to ransom that cat? Is Justine really worth that much?”

  “She is to Trish,” Helen said. “She loves that kitten and plans to show her at the next Gold Cup cat show in Fort Lauderdale. She has full custody now that Mort’s dead. She’ll get her ransom money back after the catnapper’s trial, but I don’t think she’s worried about it.”

  “Imagine being so rich you don’t care if you get a half million dollars back,” Peggy said. “Is the cat case over now?”

  “Yes,” Helen said. “I’ve been fired—again—from my undercover job. But it really ended when Phil and I went to Mort’s funeral Wednesday. His fiancée, Jan Kurtz, was there. So were Trish; Carol Berman, Mort’s executive assistant; and so many friends and colleagues there was barely room to move. Mortimer Barrymore was much loved.”

  “A good send-off for a good man,” Phil said. “He’ll be missed.”

  “We’re so glad to have you here, Margery,” Peggy said.

  “This has been a splendid day,” their landlady said. “I want to thank you all.”

  They saluted the setting sun with pale, dry champagne.

  “The Coronado is just another building without you,” Helen said. “You make it our home, Margery.”

  “You’re born with your family, but you choose your friends,” Margery said. “I chose well.”

  “Hear, hear!” they said, and raised their champagne glasses to the blazing pink and gold summer sky. “To friendship.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Six Weeks Later

  Margery threw a double coming-out party on a Saturday night. There were two reasons to celebrate: Helen was finally freed from her awkward, ugly boot. And the Coronado Tropic Apartments’ stunning restoration was finished.

  Helen and Phil, Elsie, Peggy and Pete the parrot, Peggy’s mystery lover, Daniel, and Nancie were at the dual celebration. The two lawyers seemed uneasy without their customary suits. They both showed up in navy polo shirts and khakis and joked about their weekend uniform.

  Peggy, looking young and hip in her cool green sundress, presented Daniel as shyly as a daughter bringing home a date. Helen liked him instantly. Daniel was a muscular, thick-bodied man with short brownish hair. Helen wondered if his ancestors had carried pikestaffs on British battlefields. Now he fought a war of words in courtrooms. Daniel had a merry glint in his eye. Peggy was clearly crazy about him, and Pete liked him, too. The Quaker parrot deserted his perpetual perch on Peggy’s shoulder to hop onto Daniel’s meaty finger. Daniel looked pleased with that honor.

  Helen showed the Coronado colors: white shorts, turquoise top and strappy white sandals. Her toes reveled in their freedom after their confinement in the heavy boot.

  Daniel’s eyes bugged when Elsie tottered in wearing a black faux-leather cage dress that bared most of her shoulders and chest. Squares of fish belly–white flesh strained against the cage bars.

  “That’s a spectacular dress,” Peggy said, hugging Elsie.

  “Cutting-edge,” Helen said, kissing her powdery cheek. Elsie’s blond hair was tipped with black spikes.

  “I got it on sale,” Elsie said, smiling happily. Red lipstick crept into the lines of her lips.

  “I can tell,” Margery said. “It’s half off.” Her smile took the sting out of her words.

  Margery looked like a fairy godmother in a fluttering lavender butterfly caftan. She waved her cigarette wand toward a purple-draped table and said, “Grab a drink and some appetizers, and then we’ll take the tour.”

  “Caviar!” Elsie said, admiring an immense glass bowl of the fishy delicacy nestled in shaved ice.

  “Beluga,” Phil said. “Served right, with capers, chopped hard-boiled egg and toast triangles.”

  “There’s also smoked salmon and three different cheeses,” Margery said. “Phil has the grill going and he’ll start your steaks after the tour. Help yourself to wine, beer and champagne.”

  Peggy took Pete to her apartment so he wouldn’t be tempted by the delicious, fattening food.

  After cocktails and appetizers, Margery led the group on a renovation appreciation tour, pointing out the improvements with a smoky wave of her Marlboro.

  The Coronado rose above the palm trees, cool and white as ice cream, its turquoise trim now fresh and summery. “You can’t see it,” the landlady said. “But the rusty rebar has been removed, the cracked stucco has been patched, and the rust trails from the old window air conditioners are gone.”

  “We can hear that last improvement,” Helen said. “The new air conditioners are much quieter.”

  “And energy efficient,” Peggy said. “I’ll see that improvement on my electric bill.”

  “You’re walking on another improvement,” Margery said. “All the cracked concrete has been replaced, the sidewalks and the pool deck.”

  “I like your retro sidewalk with the turquoise diamonds,” Daniel said.


  “And last but not least, fresh sod and more flowers,” Margery said, and pointed toward the waterfall of purple bougainvillea surrounding the pool. The walkway was lined with gentle lavender impatiens and spiky salvia.

  “Purple, of course,” Helen said.

  “The new palms aren’t purple,” Margery said. “And these elephant ears are lime green.”

  “Dramatic,” Nancie said. The lawyer was nearly dwarfed by the plant’s fan-shaped giant leaves, and seemed overwhelmed by the colorful company.

  “There’s something that should bring you more green,” Helen said, pointing to the For Rent sign in the window of Cal the Canadian’s former apartment. “Any prospective renters yet?”

  “Just started looking,” Margery said. “But I’m open to suggestions.”

  “We’ll work on it,” Helen said.

  They would, too. They knew you didn’t rent at the Coronado. You were adopted.

  “It’s time for dinner,” Margery said. “Tell Phil how you’d like your fillet cooked. Let’s eat!”

  The evening was cool and pleasant, the dinner was simple and sumptuous—grilled steaks, twice-baked potatoes, crispy garlic bread and buttery asparagus—served at a round table by the pool.

  Helen and Phil regaled them with stories about their investigations, the tales they could tell in public, anyway.

  “How’s your foot feel now that you’re out of that boot?” Peggy said.

  “Ten pounds lighter,” Helen said.

  “I heard Daisy the killer broke her foot,” Daniel said. “Is she still wearing her boot?”

  “I lost contact with her after she was arrested,” Helen said.

  “Last I heard,” Nancie said, “Daisy pleaded guilty and got ten years in prison.”

  “At her age, that’s a life sentence,” Margery said.

  “What if Daisy hadn’t tripped over that concrete cherub?” Peggy said. “I don’t like to think what would have happened to Helen.”

  “It was close. Fools rush in and tread on angels,” Helen said, and the group groaned.

  “Phil and I want to ask a favor, Margery,” she said. “We’re going to Key Largo for a week. Would you watch Thumbs? Our cat can’t stay with Peggy. He thinks Pete is fast food.”