by Marie Celine
‘Such a pity, is it not?’
Kitty turned. ‘Oh, Mr Fandolfi.’ He wore the crispest, sharpest black suit that Kitty had ever laid eyes on and she wondered if it belonged to his onstage collection. ‘Yes, poor Teddy. You remember Fran.’
He nodded. ‘This is a sad day for everyone. Gretchen may have had her faults, but she was quite a woman.’
Kitty couldn’t help but notice the face that Fandolfi’s current wife pulled. Apparently the current Mrs Fandolfi was no fan of the former.
‘Good morning, Mrs Fandolfi.’ Kitty couldn’t decide whether Holly was dressed for a funeral or a night at the opera, in a clingy black dress, matching pumps and a string of pearls that looked like they could have come from the Queen of England’s private Tower of London collection.
Holly Fandolfi daubed at the corner of her left eye with a silk tissue held in her white-gloved left hand. She used her right hand to pull her husband closer.
‘How are you holding up, Kitty? It seems we keep missing each other – at Bunny’s Bakery the other morning and then up at the house this morning. I hear my dear husband caused you no end of anguish with one of his tricks.’ She slapped his wrist and made tsk-tsk noises.
‘I did apologize, my pet.’ Fandolfi squeezed Kitty’s arm. ‘You are all right now, I hope?’
Though every bone in Kitty’s body ached and every muscle attached to every bone screamed with every move she made, Kitty managed to say with a smile that she felt fine. She didn’t want to hurt Mr Fandolfi’s feelings and she really didn’t want to give Holly any ammunition to use against him – assuming he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, like she’d told herself he wasn’t.
‘Still,’ Holly said, ‘after all you’ve been through lately, I’m surprised you’re even continuing.’
‘Continuing? Continuing what?’
‘The pet chef business, of course.’
‘Oh, but I’d never give that up.’ Kitty was surprised that Holly would even suggest such a thing.
Holly looked troubled. ‘But, after all you’ve been put through. The threatening notes, the attacks on your life …’ Holly glanced toward the open grave. ‘Aren’t you concerned, Kitty? That could be you there.’
A chill ran up Kitty’s spine. Was Holly actually threatening her in some way? Or was this her own weird way of trying to warn her to be careful? She couldn’t possibly care about someone other than herself, could she?
Kitty laughed it off. ‘Oh, I’ll be fine, Mrs Fandolfi. Besides, the police think they have the case pretty well wrapped up.’
‘Oh?’ said Fandolfi.
Kitty nodded. ‘My boyfriend, Jack – I told you about him – is one of the lead detectives on the case. I’m not sure I should be saying this, but he told me that Teddy confessed.’
‘Thadeus confessed to murdering Gretchen?’ Fandolfi’s eyebrows flew upward.
‘That’s right.’
‘But you don’t believe him, do you?’ That was Holly.
Kitty shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I’m not sure at all.’
‘If you ask me,’ Fran said, ‘Teddy wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’ve known him as long as I’ve been working for Gretchen. That boy is a sweetheart.’
‘Then how do you explain his confession?’ asked Holly.
‘Well, pardon my saying so,’ Fran said with obvious reluctance, ‘but Teddy is … that is, he could be considered—’
‘Slow?’
Kitty and Fran twizzled around. Teddy’s father, Chevy Czinski, had come up behind them. He stood with his hands in his pockets. His eyes were red and his face was pale and puffy.
‘Is that the word you were looking for, young lady?’
Fran gulped. ‘I–I didn’t mean anything, Mr Czinski, sir.’
He managed a wan smile, even as he patted her arm. ‘That’s quite all right. You do not offend me or Teddy.’ He smiled at each of them. ‘My son has always been special. My ex-wife, Gretchen, gave him a job to keep him occupied. Teddy always had a difficult time finding employment.’
Fran and Kitty had said their goodbyes and were heading back to Fran’s Mini when a voice called out to them. Both ladies turned. It was David Biggins. Despite the solemn occasion, Kitty couldn’t help noticing that David looked quite handsome in a suit and tie. She also couldn’t help noticing Jack opening Elin Nordstrom’s door for her after first securing Teddy in the backseat of an official-looking sedan.
As Jack waved to her from a distance, Kitty leaned in and gave David a friendly hug. ‘Hello, David.’ She noted with guilty satisfaction that Jack hesitated a moment, all the while looking her way, before getting into his car and slowly driving off. ‘How are you holding up?’
‘Hi, ladies. OK, I guess.’ He and Fran shared a hug as well. ‘What about you, Fran? You and Gretchen were really close. More like friends than coworkers.’ He offered both ladies a pastille from a tin he pulled from his suit pocket. Both declined. He popped one in his mouth, and then tucked the tin away again.
Fran daubed at her eye with a tissue. ‘I’m crushed. Gretchen was one of my best friends. Things won’t be the same without her. You must feel the same way, David. The two of you were close once.’
‘You and Gretchen?’ Kitty looked wide-eyed.
David shrugged and looked at the ground. ‘Not especially. We went out a few times, mostly with the gang from the studio. Working together long hours, people start feeling that tug of attraction. You know how it is. There’s always a certain amount of hanky-panky around the set,’ he said, making what Kitty could only interpret as amorous eyes at her. ‘But it wasn’t that way with me and Gretchen. There was quite an age difference, after all. Besides, she was more like a mother figure around the set.’ He laughed. ‘Maybe an evil step-mom would be more apt.’
‘Maybe you should try her daughter,’ Kitty quipped.
‘Huh?’ David’s face darkened. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘I’m only joking.’ She pointed to his suit pocket. ‘I noticed you both have a sweet tooth, that’s all.’
David still looked puzzled.
‘I noticed a tin of pastilles on the table when we went to Cindy’s place.’
‘You went to Cindy’s townhouse at the beach? What’s it like?’
‘Her house looks right out at the ocean,’ Kitty replied. ‘It’s palatial.’
‘I’ll say,’ added Fran.
‘Did you learn anything?’ David wanted to know.
‘Not really. She wasn’t very cooperative at all. She refused to even tell me who her father was.’
‘That’s no big secret,’ answered David. ‘It’s that magician guy. He was here.’
Kitty nodded. ‘Yes, Ernst Fandolfi. I know that now. In fact, he’s one of my clients.’
‘We learned one thing,’ interjected Fran.
Kitty and David looked at her and waited.
‘We learned that the woman lived like a queen.’ Fran bit her lower lip. ‘I can’t believe Gretchen put up with that child. Nothing but a spoiled brat. Every time she came around the studio all they did was fight. And when Cindy went and took up with some guy that she absolutely disapproved of, I thought Gretchen was going to explode.’
David scowled. ‘You know, she’s never worked a day in her life. Yet there she sits, lording over the manor with a private gardener and a housekeeper. While mommy and daddy foot all the bills. No wonder she’s such a …’ His ears turned bright red.
Kitty nodded. ‘I have to admit, I was snooping around, hoping to find out who’d killed Gretchen. Now, I hear that Teddy has confessed.’
‘That’s sick,’ David replied. ‘I wonder if dear old Cindy has an alibi. If either of her kids killed her, I’d put my money on Cindy.’ He smiled. ‘Not that I have any money to speak of.’
‘Ditto that,’ Fran said.
‘If you want to poke around, you ought to poke around Cindy Corbett some more. See if she does have an alibi.’
Kitty nodded. David had a point. There was certainly no love lost
between mother and daughter. She definitely needed to keep Cindy on her list of suspects, along with Steve and Bill Barnhard, Barbara Cartwright and possibly Mr Fandolfi. She wasn’t certain she could rule out Sonny Sarkisian either. Gretchen had gotten him fired and now he was, almost magically, rehired. That could mean something, too.
‘I hear you went to see Teddy this morning.’ Kitty looked at her hand. Here she was standing around in public with a hundred grand in plain sight of everybody. Maybe even the killer.
She quietly stuffed the manila envelope deep into her purse. It barely fit. ‘Did he say anything to you then about having murdered his mother?’
David shook his head. ‘Not a word. But I only talked to him a minute or two, then Bill Barnhard showed up and the police were bending over backwards being obsequious to the guy. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do for Teddy, anything he needed.’ He stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘It’s got to be tough being stuck in lockup.’
Fran trembled. ‘I would just die. It was sweet of you to pay him a visit.’
‘I’ve always liked Teddy. I can’t help it. Despite what he did, I feel sorry for him.’
Kitty and Fran agreed. There was something about the young man. Fran nudged Kitty. ‘There she is now.’
‘Who?’
‘Cindy Corbett. She’s just getting into that limo.’
‘Rats,’ Kitty said. ‘We’ll never catch her now.’
‘That’s okay. There’s a wake being held at her place, remember? We can corner her there.’
‘Are you coming?’ Kitty asked David.
‘No, I’m afraid I can’t make it. I could use a lift into town though, if it’s no trouble? My car broke down.’
‘Sure, hop in.’ Fran cranked up the Mini. Minutes later, they were dropping David off at his apartment. Fortunately, it wasn’t too much out of their way. David lived in Park La Brea, a huge apartment community near Fairfax Avenue.
‘Last chance,’ said Fran, pulling up outside of David’s building. ‘Are you certain you don’t want to hit the wake? I’m sure Cindy will have only the best liquor.’
‘I hate to pass it up, but I really couldn’t.’ As David hopped out of the car, he said to Kitty, ‘Hey, maybe you want to get together later? You’ll never guess what I found.’ He continued without waiting for her to guess. ‘Our old high school yearbook – Newport Harbor High – from our senior year,’ he finished, beaming from ear to ear.
‘Oh, dear,’ Kitty groaned. ‘I’m not sure I could bear it. Besides, I’m afraid I’m swamped today. After the wake, I have to head straight home, prepare meals and then deliver.’ Because she was missing lunch service for her clients’ pets, Kitty had promised them each dinner.
‘After that?’ coaxed David. ‘We’ll have a laugh or two.’
‘After that I have a meeting with Bill Barnhard.’
‘Oh? What does he want?’
‘I’m afraid he wants me to meet him at the studio tonight at eight o’clock.’ Kitty sighed. ‘I hope he’s not going to fire me.’ Kitty had made up her mind – if he did fire her, she was definitely going to ask him about Gretchen’s murder. Who knew? Steve, Barbara and Mr Barnhard could all be alibiing each other. Wasn’t that convenient?
‘He did seem a bit testy at the cemetery,’ added Fran. ‘But don’t sweat it, girl. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.’
‘Nothing serious? I accused his son of murdering Gretchen and then trying twice to murder me!’
David laughed. ‘Somehow, I think you’ll manage just fine, Kitty.’ He thumped the car windowsill a couple of times. ‘Somehow, you always do.’
TWENTY-FOUR
‘Look at him,’ complained Kitty, her voice an angry whisper, ‘sitting there looking so smug.’ She was surreptitiously staring at Steve Barnhard, wishing the SWAT team would suddenly come bursting through the door of Cindy Corbett’s beach house, wrestle his skinny body to the rug and haul his butt off to the clink.
‘I mean, who wears white socks to a wake?’ Kitty grumbled, as Steve crossed his legs on the sofa across from her.
Fran giggled inappropriately – this was a memorial service after all. Fran was on her second glass of white wine, or was it her third? Kitty wasn’t really counting. Fran was a big girl and it really didn’t matter, except that one of them had to remain sober enough to drive home afterward, though Kitty would prefer that neither of them did anything to embarrass themselves in this somber gathering.
Like Kitty had told David, she did have work to attend to afterward. She definitely needed to remain sober for that.
And she had a meeting with Bill Barnhard, the head of the entire network, to deal with after that. Somehow, showing up late and/or intoxicated to that meeting didn’t seem like such a good idea. Though, after it was over and the dust had settled – and he’d kicked her off the show – getting drunk just might be worth the doing. She wasn’t much of a drinker, no more than a social glass of wine here and there, but the events of today and the past several leading up to it might just have her rethinking that policy.
Kitty suddenly lurched forward, her hand squeezing Fran’s knee.
‘Ouch!’
‘Sorry,’ said Kitty, letting go. ‘It’s the socks!’
‘Excuse me?’ Fran reached for a handful of chips.
‘It’s the socks.’ Kitty fell back into the cushion of the plump eggplant colored loveseat. It was about as comfortable as sitting on an eggplant, too. ‘I remember now. Steve was wearing white socks when I met him.’
She grinned with satisfaction. ‘And then, when I saw him later with his feet up on the desk in Sonny’s empty office after the murder—’
‘Yes,’ Fran mumbled, her mouth stuffed with bits of potato chip.
‘Steve wasn’t wearing white socks.’
‘Wasn’t wearing white socks?’ Fran’s voice was thick with confusion. ‘Where are you going with this?’
Kitty’s eyes twinkled. ‘He wasn’t wearing any socks.’ She clapped her hands. ‘I remember it clearly. Steve wasn’t wearing any socks.’
‘And?’
‘Don’t you see?’ Kitty whispered, one eye on Fran, the other on Steve. ‘He stabbed Gretchen. Probably got blood all over his socks somehow.’
‘He stabbed Gretch in the back and got blood on his socks?’ Fran looked unconvinced.
A couple hovering nearby glanced their way. They’d been speaking too loudly.
Kitty sidled closer to Fran. ‘Yes. Somehow. Don’t ask me how. But somehow, in the heat of the moment, he must have spilled some blood on his shoes.’ Kitty took a deep breath. ‘Gretchen’s blood. He probably threw them away afterward. Maybe he dumped them in the ocean or burned them in his fireplace or—’
‘Steve lives in a condo. You saw it. I don’t think he has a fireplace—’ Fran leaned forward and hiccupped, sloshing white wine down the front of her dress. She frowned, gave the spot a quick wipe, and reached for another handful of chips.
‘Then he threw them away, dumped them in a landfill.’
‘Uh-oh.’ Fran pursed her lips. ‘Did you say spilled?’ Fran giggled.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You’re not going to like this.’ Fran set her glass down on the coffee table, where it was no doubt going to leave a nasty ring. Kitty was going to warn her about this but, in the end, figured Cindy would get what she had coming.
‘I’m not going to like what?’
‘That was me.’
‘What was you?’
‘I remember, now that you bring it up. That day at the studio, the day Gretchen was killed?’
‘Yes?’
‘I spilled a cup of coffee all over Steve’s shoes. His socks were a wet mess.’ Fran shrugged helplessly. ‘He must have taken them off.’
Kitty felt like screaming. She really, really wanted Steve to be guilty, if not of murdering Gretchen Corbett, then of something.
Kitty felt a bump against her knee and looked up. Cindy Corbett loomed over her, looking
mad. Looking drunk. And not a tissue in sight. Had she noticed Fran’s wet wine glass already?
Her eyes looked hard enough to pound nails, but they weren’t all puffy around the edges and red through the middle to indicate that she had been crying. Apparently, Cindy wasn’t about to shed a tear for the loss of her beloved mother, Gretchen.
In fact, now that she thought about it, Kitty hadn’t seen her cry at the funeral ceremony either, though there had been several handkerchiefs sopping up the tears of other mourners, including Mr Fandolfi, Teddy, and even his father, gruff old Chevy Czinski.
‘So, have you heard?’ Cindy Corbett’s below-the-knee, silky black dress swirled around her legs like it was alive, a devoted creature of the underworld wrapped around its mistress’s legs. Her bare arms revealed marmoreal skin, no doubt an outward manifestation of her inner hardness.
Both Kitty and Fran shook their heads in the negative, but it was Kitty who asked. ‘Heard what?’
‘My attorney has released Mommy’s will. It seems dear Mother has only left me a quarter of her estate.’
Gretchen Corbett was very well off. It seemed to Kitty that Cindy had been well provided for. Apparently, Cindy wasn’t seeing it that way. ‘Who gets the rest?’ Kitty inquired. It was tacky to ask, but since Cindy had brought it up, why not?
Cindy’s eyes narrowed and her lips puckered as she spoke. ‘Teddy gets a quarter – though, I doubt he’ll ever see it, seeing as how he murdered dear Mother. My attorney says he will not be entitled to profit by his crime.’ Cindy managed a smile.
‘What about the rest?’ Fran said.
Cindy’s countenance darkened. ‘Her exes. My father. And Teddy’s father.’
Ernst Fandolfi and Chevy Czinski. That gave both of them motives for murdering Gretchen. Not that Chevy didn’t have a motive already. Gretchen had apparently stolen the entire idea for The Pampered Pet from Chevy. Was he mad enough or desperate enough for money to murder poor Gretchen?
And what about Fandolfi? Was he having any money problems? It didn’t appear so on the surface, but one never knew. The rich had a way of keeping up appearances long after the money had gone. He was ambidextrous; that was just as good or better than being left-handed. He was at Bunny’s Bakery the day Kitty received that threatening note that Jack said had been written by a leftie. Could that leftie be Fandolfi?
