Snow Cold Case_A Mystic Snow Globe Romantic Mystery

by M. Z. Andrews

  Johanna shrugged. “Anything is possible, right?”

  He nodded. “Most definitely. Well, let me get Roz started on this right now,” he said, standing up.

  Johanna lowered her chin. “Tim, is there any way we could speak to Janet Sandborn? She seemed to know Felicia as well as anyone else in the office. Maybe she knew about the showing.”

  Tim seemed to blanch. “They knew each other alright.”

  Mitch tipped his head sideways. “What aren’t you saying, Mr. Shaw?”

  Tim threw his hands up defensively. “I’m not saying anything. They knew each other. But you know how women can be sometimes.”

  Johanna shook her head. “No, I don’t really.”

  Tim’s face flushed then. “You know. Sometimes they don’t get along with other women. I think it’s a competitive thing. They knew each other, but let’s just say they weren’t the best of friends.”

  “I thought I sensed a little animosity from Janet when I spoke to her the other day,” said Johanna, nodding her head.

  Mitch rubbed his temples. “Felicia did mention there was a gal at her office who liked to make things difficult for her. I take it that was Janet?”

  “It had to have been. Janet and Felicia were the only two women in the office at that time. Let’s just say they had a healthy competition over scoring clients and listings.”

  “Can we talk to Janet again?” asked Johanna.

  “Yes,” said Tim, heading to the doorway. “Follow me.”

  He led them to Janet’s office and knocked.

  “Yes?”

  He stuck his head in first. “Hey, Janet, do you have five minutes?”

  “For what?”

  “To speak with Felicia Marshall’s former fiancé?”

  “I spoke with that woman the other day,” she said, clearly annoyed.

  “They have some additional questions.”

  Johanna was sure she heard a groan, followed by an unenthusiastic, “Fine.”

  Tim nodded and pushed the door open, pretending like Mitch and Johanna hadn’t just heard Janet’s less-than-eager response. “Janet said she’s got a few minutes. I’ll just go see Roz about those phone records now.”

  20

  Janet glanced up as Johanna, Mitch, and Rocky filed into her office. “You’re back,” she said, leaning back in her seat. She folded her arms across her chest and crossed her long legs.

  “I am. Thank you for seeing me again.” Johanna gestured towards Mitch. “Have you met Mitch Connelly? He was Felicia’s fiancé.”

  Mitch held out a hand to Janet. “Hello, Ms. Sandborn.”

  She unfolded her arms and leaned forward, taking just the tip of his fingers in her hand. “Janet,” she said, crossing her arms again.

  “Janet,” he agreed.

  “No, I don’t think we’ve ever formally met. You were in the office once, maybe twice.”

  Mitch gave her a tight smile. “Yes, I popped in a few times to take Felicia to lunch.”

  “So what’s up now?” she asked, looking straight at Johanna.

  “We have reason to believe that Felicia had a property showing on the day that she died.”

  Janet lifted a shoulder. “It’s possible.”

  “But she wasn’t scheduled to work that day,” said Mitch. “She told me that.”

  “We get calls and texts all the time. Clients don’t know it’s your day off,” she explained. “Clients don’t call and say, ‘Hey, are you busy today? Because I don’t want to inconvenience you.’ No. They don’t do that. They want what they want when they want it, and what they want is for you to drop everything you’ve got going on and cater to them.”

  “Well, we’re fairly confident that Felicia got a text that day and was asked to show a very expensive property. We heard that the commission on that property alone would have paid for her entire wedding and honeymoon. That’s a pretty good chunk of change,” said Johanna. She felt emboldened by Janet’s flip attitude.

  “Like I said, it’s totally possible.”

  Mitch’s eyes narrowed as he addressed her next. “Were you aware of any showings that Felicia had that day?”

  Janet closed both eyes and shook her head. “I can’t recall.”

  Johanna smiled at her and then stood up brazenly while Mitch and Rocky stared up at her. “Okay, that’s fine. Tim’s getting Felicia’s phone records for the day from Roz. We’ll find out exactly who texted her and ask them what they knew.”

  Janet’s eyes snapped open and narrowed on Johanna. “Go ahead, be my guest.”

  “And I’m sure if the client is in any way connected to you, the police would like to know that, wouldn’t they? Maybe we’ll let them piece together if you were aware of any showings that Felicia had that day.”

  Janet groaned and sat forward in her chair. “Ugh, sit down.”

  Johanna sat trepidatiously, shocked that her scare tactic had actually worked in a place outside of her novels, while Mitch gaped at her.

  “She had a showing that day,” she admitted.

  Mitch turned his attention to Janet. “Well, why in the world didn’t you tell the cops that? I know they asked!”

  “Felicia and I didn’t really get along that well.” Janet shrugged. “I didn’t want them to think I had anything to do with her murder.”

  “Why would they think that?” asked Mitch.

  Janet lifted a blond brow. “Are you kidding? I watch all those crime shows. The cops are just looking for people to pin that kind of stuff on. Everyone else in the office loved Felicia. Dean and Tim both thought she hung the moon. All the clients loved her. She was taking business away from me—taking food out of my mouth. Can you see how that would look to a cop?”

  “But she was murdered, Janet,” whispered Mitch. “If you’re claiming it wasn’t you who did it, you could have at least given the cops some leads to go on. Maybe it was the client she showed the house to.”

  Janet sighed. “Or maybe she really was just mugged? They still haven’t caught the guy who did it, did they? If I had come forward and said that she was showing a house that day, they would have discovered that the client was my client. And I would have had Felicia’s blood on my hands just like that.”

  “Your client? Wait, what?” asked Mitch.

  Janet rolled her eyes. “Yes. He was my client. And he asked for Felicia by name. At least, that’s what she told me when she called me.”

  “She called you? That day?” demanded Mitch.

  “Yes. She did. She called to apologize. If you can believe that. She called to say she knew that the property she was showing was to one of my clients, but that he’d requested her by name and she was taking the showing.”

  “So then what happened?” asked Johanna.

  Janet’s mouth twisted. “She never showed.”

  Mitch gasped. “She never showed?”

  “That’s what he said. Felicia never showed up for her appointment. After I found out that she’d been killed nearby in a mugging, we assumed she’d been on her way to the appointment when it happened.”

  “So the address of the property was near where she was killed?” asked Johanna. I knew it!

  Janet nodded. “Yup. Just a few streets away.”

  “Do you have the address of the property she showed?” asked Mitch.

  “It was on Bank Street,” she said.

  “Do you have the exact address?”

  “Ugh,” she groaned, uncrossing her legs. She turned to her computer. “I’ll look.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Mitch whispered to Johanna. “You were right.”

  Before Johanna had a chance to respond, Janet pointed at her computer screen. “Oh, here it is. I’ll write it down.” She took out a sticky pad, jotted down the address, and handed it to Mitch.

  “What about the client’s name and number?” asked Mitch, handing the sticky note back to Janet.

  “I wouldn’t have his number anymore. That was six years ago.”

  “You can’t
look it up? Surely you keep records…”

  “Of every client who ever looks at a house? No, we don’t keep those kinds of records.”

  “You don’t even remember his name?”

  “He was some big producer or something. Lots of money. His name was Dutch.”

  “Dutch Erickson?” asked Mitch with his mouth open.

  “Yeah, Dutch Erickson. You know him?”

  “Not personally, but I mean, he’s always in the news.” Mitch narrowed his eyes. “You’ve never heard of Dutch Erickson?”

  Janet lifted a brow. “Of course I’ve heard of Dutch Erickson. You think I live under a rock? I never said I didn’t know his whole name.”

  Mitch leaned forward, his forearms on the desk. “Ms. Sandborn, did you have anything to do with my fiancée’s death?”

  She leaned forward too and shot him a cynical look. “Mr. Connelly, I might be a cutthroat real estate agent, but I’m most certainly not a cutthroat killer. I had nothing to do with Felicia’s disappearance. See? This is exactly why I didn’t go to the cops with what I knew. I knew I’d look guilty. But I didn’t do it.”

  Mitch stood up and then helped Johanna to her feet. “Let’s just hope you’re telling the truth. For your sake.”

  “Now what?” asked Johanna as the three of them poured back out onto the Manhattan street. Her mind was blown. She couldn’t believe they’d just been delivered such a handful of information. Not only did they have the client’s name and the address of the property Felicia was supposed to have shown that day, Tim and Roz had also come up with a list of phone numbers that had texted Felicia’s work phone on the day that she’d died.

  Mitch put an arm behind Johanna’s back and ushered her and Rocky down the street. “Now we need to see Dutch Erickson.”

  “Like he’s going to want to see us? He’s a big music producer.”

  Mitch’s jaw clenched. “He’s going to want to see us. Otherwise, we’ll be going to the cops with the new information we have.”

  “Do you think he had something to do with her death?”

  “For his sake, he better not have,” he growled. He pointed up ahead. “My office is just a few blocks up. Do you have a minute? We could stop in and call him.”

  Johanna looked down at Rocky, who was keeping up with their brisk walk between them. “If Rocky can come inside, then I’ve got a minute.”

  Mitch reached down and petted his head. “Of course Rocky can come in. So you’re in?” He looked up at Johanna and gave her a warm smile.

  Johanna nodded. “Yeah, I’m in.”

  “You want something to warm you up?” asked Mitch while Johanna peeled off her wool coat and hat. “Coffee? Tea?”

  “Coffee would be great,” she said, looking up at the blonde woman in the pantsuit.

  “I’ll have coffee too, Darcy. And if we have any donuts, we’ll take a couple of those too,” said Mitch, giving her a smile.

  Darcy nodded. “You got it.” She pulled the door shut behind her.

  “I’m starving. I let Rocky finish my breakfast,” he explained as he shed his own coat and hung it on a coatrack beside his office door. From his spot on the floor, Rocky lifted his eyes when he heard his name.

  “Yeah, I didn’t finish mine either,” admitted Johanna. “That cheese bagel was amazing, though, by the way.”

  Mitch gave her a toothy smile. “I told you!”

  She let out a little giggle. “I know.”

  He stared at her softly then. “You sure have a nice smile.”

  “Thank you,” said Johanna. She shifted on her feet and swung her arms, not sure what to do with them then. Compliments always made her feel uncomfortable. She pulled out a chair at the conference table and sat down. When Mitch wouldn’t stop staring at her, she pointed at his desk. “Do you have a notebook? You know, in case we need to write down something he says?”

  “Oh, great idea!” Mitch rummaged through his desk and pulled out a yellow steno pad and two sharpened pencils. He rushed back to the conference table, running a hand through his blond hair before setting the pad down on the table and dropping into the seat next to her. “What a morning we’ve had. Are mornings with a mystery writer always this exciting?”

  Johanna couldn’t help but laugh. “Always this exciting? Mornings with a mystery writer are almost never this exciting.”

  He leaned his chin on the heel of his hand. “I really don’t believe you. Since I’ve met you, it’s been one exciting event after the next.”

  She grinned as her memory replayed all of their encounters thus far. “Oh, I suppose it’s been interesting.”

  “To say the least,” he chuckled. “And I’m shocked at how much information we got today. Can you believe none of this was ever disclosed to the police? You might actually help me solve Felicia’s murder.”

  “Yeah.”

  He shook his head at her with a soft smile. “Where have you been hiding yourself, Johanna Hughes?”

  In my apartment, she thought, suppressing a giggle. “Buried in my work, just like you.”

  “Maybe we both need to start getting out more often,” he said as Darcy came back in the office with two coffees and two donuts on a small tray.

  She set the tray between them. “Can I get you anything else, Mitch?”

  He shook his head. “Thank you, Darcy, no. But please hold all my calls. Ms. Hughes and I have an important call to place.”

  She nodded as she left. “Will do.”

  When Darcy had closed the door behind her again, he pulled his cell phone and the sticky note they’d written the number down on out of his pocket. “Are you ready?”

  Johanna let out a nervous breath. She glanced over at Rocky, who had fallen asleep, and then she nodded. “Yes. I think so. You?”

  “I’ve never been more ready to put this case to rest.” He dialed the number, touched the speakerphone button, and laid the phone on the table. It rang and rang. He glanced up at her.

  Felicia had been killed six years ago. They both knew it was more than likely that the number wasn’t Dutch Erickson’s number anymore. After all, six years ago, Dutch had been a newcomer to the music producer scene. Since then, he’d grown his business and had become a household name. There was no way he had the same phone number. But still. They let it ring.

  “Hello?” said a man’s voice finally.

  “Dutch?” asked Mitch hopefully.

  “Yeah. Who’s this?”

  Johanna wanted to scream. She had to press a hand against her mouth to keep from cheering.

  Mitch glanced up at her, his eyes wide and hopeful. “My name is Mitch Connelly. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

  “How’d you get this number?” he asked gruffly.

  Mitch swallowed hard and then continued. “My late fiancée got a text message from this number the day that she died.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?” he asked.

  “No, it’s not a joke. You might have been the last person to see my fiancée alive before she died.”

  There was a pause and then, “Who was your fiancée?”

  “Felicia Marshall.”

  A longer pause. “Yeah. Just a second.”

  They could hear the sound of footsteps and then the sound of a door closing in the background.

  “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Mitch Connelly. Six years ago, Felicia Marshall was supposed to marry me. But before she could, she got a text message from you asking for her to show you a multimillion-dollar property.”

  “Six years ago. That’s a long time. I think you got the wrong guy,” said Dutch. His voice was deep, but unconvincing.

  “I don’t think so, Mr. Erickson. Someone at the realty company gave us your name, and this number was on Felicia’s cell phone records from the day she died.”

  “Okay, so maybe I texted her to see a property that day. I don’t really remember. Like I said, six years was a long time ago.”

  “Her death was al
l over the news,” said Mitch. “Are you telling me you didn’t see that and realize that was the real estate agent that you were working with?”

  “I’m a busy guy. I don’t sit around watching the Today Show every morning, ya know?”

  “So, are you telling me that you never saw the house on Bank Street that you’d asked Felicia to show you?”

  “I looked at a lot of houses back then. How am I supposed to remember if I saw that exact house?”

  “Mr. Erickson, it sure would be a shame if news of this story leaked out to the press. I can’t imagine a scandal of this nature being good for business,” said Mitch, eying Johanna with one lifted brow.

  There was a long pause on the other end of the phone and then a sigh. “She never showed me the house alright. I did text her to see it, but she never showed up.”

  “And we’re supposed to just believe that? A few seconds ago, you claimed you didn’t even know who she was,” said Mitch.

  “Yeah, well, I knew. I saw her name on the news. Popular Manhattan real estate agent murdered in Hudson River Park, ya know. I couldn’t miss it. It was plastered all over the place. I figured that was why she didn’t show up to her appointment with me.”

  “And you didn’t think it was important to tell the cops you had an appointment set up with her?” asked Mitch, his teeth grinding together now.

  “And tie my name to the murder? It woulda killed business. I couldn’t do that. I was finally starting to take off. Why would I do that to myself?”

  “To help solve a murder. To give her family some closure. I don’t know, to be a decent human being.”

  “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t come forward back then. I figured if someone pushed hard enough, they’d find me and then I’d clear my name. But they never did. Years went by and I just let it go.”

  Mitch cradled his forehead in the palm of his hand. “I’m going to ask you one time and I want an honest answer. Did you have anything to do with Felicia’s disappearance?”

  Dutch’s voice came through loud and clear. “Listen, man. I didn’t touch a single hair on that girl’s head. I swear.”

  “If you’re lying to me—”

  “I’m not lying to you.”