by Morgana Best
I nodded. “It’s a terrible thing. Do many escorts get killed in the line of duty? I mean, I suppose there are many married people and people in relationships who come here as clients, so there would be lots of people with motives, I suppose.”
Ellie eyed me speculatively. “Are you interested in becoming an escort?”
Basil chuckled. “No, no, no,” was all I managed to say.
Ellie turned her attention to Basil. “What about you? We need to replace Frank. It pays well and it’s perfectly legal. It’s not legal to be a pimp, mind you, but it’s legal to run a brothel, and it’s legal to be an escort.”
I didn’t like the way she was looking at Basil. “We’re here because we want to make sure that Frank’s murder is solved,” I said. “If we give you a list of names, can you tell us if any of them have ever used the escorts here?”
Ellie shook her head. “I’m terribly sorry, but that information is private. We can’t give out that information due to reasons of confidentiality. I hope you can understand.”
“Oh yes, I do.” I was half expecting her to say that. “I suppose the police have that information?”
Ellie tapped her pen on the edge of her keyboard. “No, actually, they didn’t want us to cross check any names. They just wanted a list of Frank’s clients.”
If Ellie thought that it was strange that we were investigating as well as the police, she gave no sign of it. The phone rang, and she excused herself to answer it.
“Yes, I’d be happy to book you for Lionel. I just need your full name, address, and date of birth.” She tapped on more keys, and then said, “Thank you. You’re booked in. I’ll see you then. Have a nice day.”
She looked back at us and smiled. “Sorry I couldn’t help you. If you ever change your mind about being escorts, please call me.” She handed each of us a card and then pointed to Basil. “You, especially. Frank was with us a long time and it’s going to be hard to replace him, but we will need to replace him soon. We usually operate this place fully booked.”
We thanked her and walked out the door. “Well, Basil, if the accounting business ever goes downhill, you can always change careers.” When Basil didn’t reply, I turned to see his face was beet red. “You’re embarrassed,” I said with a laugh.
Basil laughed too, but it was a forced laugh. “I am a little, if I’m to be honest. At least it was a productive visit.”
We had reached the car, and I looked at him over the hood. “Did you say productive? I thought it was a complete waste of time.”
Basil unlocked the car. “Did you hear her ask whoever was on the other end of the phone for her full name, address, and date of birth? We just need to find out Jenny’s, and then you can call the agency and pretend to be her. You’ll soon know if she’s been a client there at any time because she’ll be in the records.”
“That makes me a little nervous,” I confessed. “For a start, how are we going to find out all that information about Jenny? And secondly, what if the receptionist remembers my voice?”
Basil reversed the car. “She won’t recognize your voice. Plenty of people call her all day, and you were just a one-off, random person. You won’t have any worries there. Now we just have to figure out how to get Jenny’s full name, address, and date of birth.”
My mind was already racing by the time Basil left me at the front of the funeral home and went back to work. I hurried inside, making a mental note to water the garden again soon.
I looked around my office. Basil had recently brought me some flowers, and they were in water on a small table in a corner of the room. They were pretty gerberas in vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow. I had been changing their water daily to keep them alive as long as possible, but I think I was losing the battle.
The five potted Japanese Peace Lilies, all in varying sizes, were doing much better. I retrieved a spray bottle from a cupboard and sprayed a light mist over them. I looked at my desk and shuddered. Next to my desktop computer was a huge pile of paperwork that seemed to have a life of its own, given the way it seemed to grow all by itself.
I averted my eyes and sat on my chair, and turned on the desktop. I googled the type of identification guests needed when booking in to vacation stays. I knew Mom had used one of the standard vacation accommodation services, but I couldn’t remember which one. After only a few minutes on the net, it seemed there was a very good chance that she would have taken a copy of each driver’s license or passport. Now I just had to find out where she would keep the information.
I walked back out of the funeral home, my mind on the huge pile of paperwork on my desk. I really needed someone to do it, but the business couldn’t quite afford that yet. I didn’t want to be in the position where I was running a business simply to pay staff. It needed to make a better profit than that.
It was a hot day, and although it was far wiser to water gardens at night, my night would be taken up with paperwork and likely the murder investigation to boot. I turned on the sprinklers, after all.
Mom was in her garden muttering to her plants. “Your garden is looking lovely, Mom,” I said.
She stood up and adjusted her large straw hat. “Laurel, you shouldn’t be out in the sun with your fair skin. You know how you always get freckles, and freckles are not an attractive look. No wonder you’re not married.”
“I happen to like freckles,” I said defiantly, but then remembered that honey catches more flies.
Too late—Mom was already on a roll. “John Jones told me he doesn’t like women with freckles.”
“I don’t give a…” I just managed to catch myself in time. “You look hot, Mom. Would you like a glass of cold water?”
Mom shot me a look of disgust. “I’m not one of those New Age people who drinks five glasses of water a day, thinking it’s good for you,” she said sternly.
“I’m sure a little cold water won’t hurt you just this once,” I said, pushing down my annoyance. “It’s awfully hot out in the sun, and doesn’t the Bible say not to refuse a glass of water?” I didn’t know if the Bible actually said that, but it was worth a try.
Mom appeared to be thinking this over. “Well, thank you, Laurel. I just have a little more work to do outside and then I’ll come inside to have a nice cup of tea with Bryce. Would you please switch on the electric jug?”
“Sure.” I hurried into Mom’s house as fast as I could without creating suspicion, and then walked straight past Bryce, the builder, down to the back of the house to Mom’s office.
Mom’s office was nothing like mine. Whereas mine was bright and cheery, hers was dark and musty. The furniture consisted of a kitchen chair, and an old laminate table with metal legs that had probably graced someone’s kitchen in the 1950’s. In stark contrast was a brand-new and very expensive looking desktop computer. It wasn’t on, and in fact I very much doubted that Mom would know how to turn it on.
Mom loved spending sprees above all else, and typically bought completely unnecessary items. In fact, she went to the grocery store every day. I had always suspected that her refrigerator was a Tardis. Failing that, the only logical explanation could be that she had to throw out a lot of food.
I turned my attention to Mom’s paperwork. There were stacks of paper flung haphazardly around the room. Five piles of paper were stacked in a row under the window, partially obscured by yellowing lace curtains. They were shut, of course, Mom always thought that people would look inside if all the curtains weren’t shut. To my relief, there were photocopies of each person’s passport at the other end of the desk.
Jenny’s was halfway through the pile. I whipped out my phone and took photos. I put everything back the way it was, and then hurried into the kitchen.
Bryce looked startled to see me. “Sorry I scared you,” I said.
“I thought it was the detectives again,” he said in an angry voice. “They’ve been snooping around here, asking lots of questions.”
“About my mother?” I said in alarm.
“Yes, about Thelma, and about everyone. But I’m hoping and praying they’ll find the murderer soon.”
I simply nodded and then filled the electric jug with water. “Mom says she’ll come inside soon to have a cup of tea with you.”
I noted that Bryce looked less than pleased to hear the news, and I wondered why.
There was no cold water in the refrigerator, so I filled Mom a glass from the kitchen sink, clearly annoying Bryce as I did so. “Sorry, should I have used the Butler’s pantry?”
Bryce merely grunted.
Mom appeared as soon as I set foot on the porch. “What took you so long, Laurel? I don’t want a glass of water now. I’m going to have a nice cup of tea.” She hurried past me before I could hand her the glass.
I tipped the water onto the nearest plant, and left the empty glass sitting next to the porch step.
When I reached the garden outside the funeral home, I hesitated as to whether I should let the sprinkler continue or whether I should turn it off. I decided to turn it off. I could always turn it on again later if I had time. At least the flowers had sufficient water to keep them going until the next day. I had so many jobs to do, most of them minor, but all of which would have dire consequences if I ignored them.
I locked myself in my office, and hoped that no one would knock. It was unlikely that anyone would. I took the landline off the hook and then looked at the business card the brothel’s receptionist had given me. I experimented with a few fake voices, and was glad that Ernie wasn’t there to mock me.
I hesitated, but finally steeled myself. “Just get it over with,” I said aloud. I mentally prepared myself one more time, and then called. The receptionist answered at once. “Hello, this is Jenny Thorogood,” I said in what I hoped was an imitation of Jenny’s voice. “I’d like to make a booking, please.”
“Certainly. Are you a regular client?”
“Yes.”
“May I have your full name, address, and date of birth?”
I had the photo of Jenny’s passport on my phone screen, so I rattled off all the details.
“Oh yes, I see you in the system now.”
I stood up, excited. I was onto something. “I would like to make a booking with Frank, please,” I said.
Ellie did not speak for a moment. “I’m sorry, he no longer works here,” she said after a long lapse. “Wouldn’t you prefer your regular, Mark?”
“I’ll have to think it over and call you back,” I said hurriedly, before hanging up.
Chapter 16
I texted Basil to update him, and then wandered back over to Mom’s house. I considered calling the detectives and telling them that Jenny Thorogood had been a client at the escort agency, but I had no idea how I would tell them I had procured that information. I also considered calling it in anonymously.
I hadn’t come to a decision, which is why I found myself in Mom’s house again. Mom was nowhere to be found, so I looked in the kitchen. “Your mother and Ian are outside,” the builder informed me, pointing in the direction of the back door. “They’re praying against snails.”
“Snails?” I said in shock, wondering if I hadn’t heard him properly. Bryce simply nodded and went back to his business. “It seems like you’re here long hours, seven days a week,” I said. “Building must be a hard business.”
Bryce grunted. “I have five children, and I’m paying just about everything I earn in child support. I’m divorced.”
I did my best to hide my surprise. Mom wouldn’t usually allow a divorced person in her house. I said something non committal, and then walked outside in search of Mom. I had no trouble finding them, Mom and Ian were loudly casting the spirits of snail demons out of the garden and quoting scriptures about pestilence at them.
“What is it, Laurel?” she snapped. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”
“I was just wondering where all your guests were.”
Mom stopped waving her arms at snails for a moment. “Oh, I told them I’d serve them coffee and cake. Why don’t you do it for me? And send Bryce outside. There are too many snails, so we need more prayer power.”
“Sure.” I wondered if Mom intended to pay him for his prayer time. “Mom, Bryce tells me he’s divorced.”
Mom glared at me. “Yes, he is, but it wasn’t his fault.”
“You told me all divorcees go to hell,” I pointed out with some satisfaction.
“I just told you it wasn’t his fault, Laurel,” Mom snapped. “His wife ran away with another man. She’s the sinner, not him, and now the poor man is forced to hand over all his money to that Jezebel.”
I shrugged and left them. I was pleased for the opportunity to speak to Jenny. I wasn’t sure what I would say, but I would just have to play it by ear. When I returned to the house, Jenny and Bec were already at the back door. “Mom’s busy in the garden, so I’m going to see to the coffee and cake for you all.”
“Would you like some help?” they both said in unison.
“Yes, please.” The pair followed me into the kitchen, where Bryce was doing something behind an oven.
“Bryce, Mom asked if you could go and help her in the garden, please.”
Bryce spat a rather rude word, something I would not think anyone from Mom’s church would ever say. Still, he was dealing with Mom, so there were extenuating circumstances.
I placed the large chocolate cake on a big plate and handed it to Bec. “Would you please take this to the dining room, and take orders for tea, coffee, or cold drinks from everyone, please?”
As soon as Bec was out of sight, I turned to Jenny. “There’s no easy way to say this, but I know you were a client at the escort agency, the same one where Frank Wright was working.”
Jenny’s face went deathly white. She leaned back against the countertop and grasped it with both hands. “But, how? How did you know?”
I was glad she wasn’t going to try to deny it. “I can’t say,” I said firmly. “Did you kill Frank?”
Jenny looked even more shocked. “No, of course not!” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “Don’t tell my husband, please.”
“I won’t tell him,” I said, “but do the police know?”
Jenny shook her head.
Bec returned and appeared not to notice anything was amiss. “Bec, would you mind getting everyone a drink, please? I need Jenny to help me in the office for a moment.”
“Certainly.” Bec busied herself with the coffee machine, and I nodded to Jenny.
Once we were in Mom’s office, I shut the door behind us. “Do the police know?”
Jenny shook her head. “They haven’t asked me, so I suppose they don’t know. What does it matter, anyway? I didn’t kill him.” She said it forcefully, and I wondered if her earlier meek demeanor had been an act.
“The more information the detectives have, the better,” I said reasonably. “You really need to tell them.”
“What if I refuse?”
“In that case, I’ll have to tell them,” I said. “I’m sure they won’t tell your husband. They have no reason to, not if you’re not the murderer.”
“I’ll tell them, then!” she spat, and flung open the door.
Mom practically fell inside the room. She smiled politely at Jenny, and then shut the door behind her.
“That harlot!” Mom screeched.
“Shush, Mom, she’ll hear you.”
“Huh! She won’t know I’m talking about her! That poor woman’s husband! I think it’s disgraceful. Just as well Ian didn’t hear about this disgusting mess. I’m glad for his sake that he went home.” Her face was beet red, her eyes narrowed to mere slits. She was in one of her rages.
“Mom, it’s really none of our business,” I said in an attempt to placate her.
“Not my business?” Mom screeched. “I’ll have you know it is my business. I’m going to ask them all to leave!” She grabbed her phone and punched in some numbers.
I held up my hands in surrender. “That’s entirely u
p to you, Mom, but surely you have a contract through the letting agency.”
I wasn’t even out the door before I heard Mom speak on the phone. “Ian, Laurel’s upset me again!”
I marched back to the funeral home, furious. I knew I shouldn’t let Mom get to me, but it was easier said than done. Anyway, first things first. I would ask Ernie to keep an eye on Jenny, to see if she did, in fact, tell the detectives. Perhaps it hadn’t been wise of me to confront her. If she was the killer, that could put me in danger.
As I reached the garden, I saw a garden gnome I hadn’t spotted before. It was a particularly hideous one, sitting upon a fly agaric mushroom, only the spots were fluorescent blue. The Bible it was holding was black, as per usual. Just then, the phone rang. I expected it was Mom calling to berate me. “What is it now?” I snapped.
“Laurel?”
I winced. “Sorry, Basil, I’ve just had an argument with Mom.”
Basil chuckled. “Worse than usual?”
“No, not really. Sorry,” I said again, “I thought she was calling me.”
“I got your text. How about dinner tonight? I’ll call for you at six?”
All the tension drained from my body. “Sounds great.”
Chapter 17
To my surprise, Basil took me to an Italian restaurant in the next town. I had heard about this restaurant: it was new, and it was expensive. At first glance, it appeared to be a trendy restaurant, yet it still retained its rustic charm. And there’s nothing quite like the tantalizing aroma of food in an Italian restaurant.
My heart fluttered at the thought of being on a date with Basil. He smelled of fresh soap, of lime and lemongrass. I noticed he was cleanly shaven. I, likewise, had gone to my best efforts. He kissed me politely, on the cheek, and it was all I could do not to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him properly.
