“There’s a Ms. van der…”
“Tramp!” Lily shouted from the living room.
“A Ms. van der Tramp here looking at Jessica’s house. She’s interested in the details, the asking price and all that.”
“Tell her on I’m my way,” Justina said excitedly then hung up.
Kate almost wished she hadn’t. She didn’t especially want to be alone with this woman.
Just as Kate turned to close the door, she noticed the vehicle in the driveway. It was a black SUV, and she was almost certain it was the car she’d seen in Ken Johnson’s driveway.
When Kate joined Lily in the living room she saw the woman in a whole new light.
“Well?” Lily demanded.
“Justina is on her way.”
“Ah,” she sighed. “She couldn’t simply tell you?”
“Where are you from?” Kate asked.
“New York. Isn’t it obvious?”
The only thing that was obvious was Lily’s lack of social graces.
“And what brings you to Rock Ridge?”
“I’m looking for a second home,” said Lily, easing her tone a bit so that it sounded more conversational and less like a tongue-lashing. “I love New York, but it's exceptionally noisy. It can really grate on your nerves if you don’t find ways to get out of the city.”
“I can see that,” said Kate, trying to sound pleasant. “But why Rock Ridge specifically? We’re not exactly written up in Town & Country magazine.”
“I attended boarding school up north not too far from here when I was a little girl. We used to take class trips down to the campsite, and I have many fond memories. If I live here, I’m sure I could maintain a low profile, and that’s just what I need right now, to slip away every few months, breathe some fresh, country air.”
“So you must know some people in town?”
“Not really. It was many years ago, not that I look it.” She laughed. The woman certainly thought highly of herself.
“So you don’t know Ken Johnson?” Kate challenged.
Lily’s face drew long and her eyes narrowed. She looked as though she could spit or, at the very least, say something insulting, but Justina barreled through the door, winded yet thrilled to have a prospective buyer.
“Ms. van der Tramp!” She exclaimed as though they were old friends. Judging by the look on Lily’s face, Kate determined they were utter strangers, but Justina had a knack for making complete strangers feel like old friends. With Lily, it wasn’t working very well, however. “Let me give you a tour. I hear you have a lot of questions.”
As Justina ushered Lily through the living room and down the hall, she glanced over her shoulder at Kate, indicating Kate could come back later.
Before she climbed into her truck, she held her cell phone in front of the SUV’s license plate and took a picture.
If Lily had been at Ken Johnson’s house last night, then Kate had every intention of finding out exactly what had happened.
Chapter Four
It was starting to drive her nuts that Scott hadn’t gotten in touch, and she couldn’t imagine proceeding to stage the next house on Justina’s list before she spoke with Carly, who also hadn’t returned her calls. She reasoned she could stop by Sunshine Florist to see if Carly was there and pick up an order of flowers, which were needed as the final touch on Brent Townsend’s house.
Sunshine Florist was open by the time she was walking up the sidewalk. She’d opted to park a block away to get some fresh air and exercise. When she got to the door she saw that it was propped open. There were a few early morning customers smelling certain bouquets as she passed through to the register counter, but where she hoped to find Carly, there was only Greta Mann, Carly’s new assistant.
“Hey, Greta, is Carly around?”
Greta looked suddenly forlorn. “Carly’s dad died,” she said regretfully.
Immediately, Kate’s heart sank. If Greta had heard about Ken, it meant Carly knew, as well.
“Yes, I know. That’s why I’m here. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Carly.”
“She’s taking the day off. She’s at her mother’s,” said Greta. “I’m sure she’ll end up taking the week off. How tragic.”
“His death comes as quite a shock,” Kate agreed.
“And that he was poisoned,” said Greta, shaking her head. “Who would think to do such a thing?”
“Where did you hear that?” Kate asked, stunned, though she had feared he’d been killed.
“It was in the paper,” said Greta, a bit taken aback that Kate hadn’t read it.
She recalled setting it aside. She hadn’t gotten further than reading her own name, and even that had been too much.
“It was in the paper,” she echoed now that the timeline was dawning on her. The paper was generally printed at three in the morning. It took a good few hours to print off the thousand copies required to fulfill distribution, then a good hour to package and distribute to the delivery boys who were contracted to deliver between five and six in the morning. Ken had been found dead around ten o’clock at night, and it’d taken the medics an hour beyond that to even show up. That meant that the reporter, Eric Demblowski, would’ve had to know the full story by around midnight in order to start writing the article. How could he have possibly learned the fact of Ken’s poisoning in that short window of time?
“Right,” said Greta, “the paper. You didn’t read it?”
“Not all of it, no.” Shaking herself out of deep thought, Kate said, “I might as well pick up Justina’s order for Brent Townsend’s house. Is it ready?”
“Ah,” said Greta, glancing in the books. “Yes. Give me a sec.”
Greta disappeared into the back, and as Kate waited she wondered about this Eric Demblowski. He wasn't a resident and yet seemed to know an awful lot. Lily van der Tramp also wasn’t a resident, and her SUV had definitely been parked outside Ken’s house. Kate had been exposed to too many murders to overlook a coincidence like this. Did the two know each other? Had Lily killed Ken with Eric’s help and then Eric conveniently wrote up the article? Kate really ought to read that article. If it threw suspicion on someone, maybe Eric had used the article to do just that, throwing suspicion off of himself.
Greta returned with two giant bouquets of roses, one pink and the other red.
“Can I help you get these out to your truck?” she offered.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
Once Greta helped her set the bouquets in the front seat, she gave Kate a weary smile then started off down the sidewalk. Kate climbed into her truck and drove across town to Brent’s house where she set the bouquets in the kitchen and living room. She wondered how Justina was doing with Lily. The fashion designer was abominable, to say the least, and Kate hoped Lily wouldn’t buy the house. Rock Ridge didn’t need her kind. Especially if she is a killer, Kate thought.
Kate was sure to lock up Brent’s house on her way out, which included checking that all the windows were locked, as well, then she drove off to Celia’s house.
Celia came to the door when Kate banged the lion-head knocker. She was dressed in the same black shawl as last night, and as she spoke, Kate was bothered that Celia didn’t look quite right, but she couldn’t put her finger on why.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Celia.”
“Come in,” she said, downtrodden. “I’m glad you’re here. Carly’s in shambles.”
As Kate followed Celia into the living room, Kate realized why Celia didn’t look quite right. She hadn’t appeared to be crying. Her eyes were clear and bright and not red and puffy, though Celia certainly looked depressed.
Carly, on the other hand, was sobbing where she sat on the couch. She blew her nose into a tissue, sighed, and then a fresh swell of tears overcame her when she realized Kate was there.
Without hesitation, Kate joined her and put her arm around her.
“Oh Carly, I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t understand it,”
said Carly, sniffling. “How could this have happened?”
Kate grimaced sympathetically and then looked at Celia. “Has Scott said anything?”
“Only that he’s actively investigating,” said Celia.
“You didn’t happen to read the paper, did you?” Kate asked, treading carefully.
Carly was the one to indicate they had. “Poisoned? How could that have possibly happened? He was home alone, sick! Who could’ve poisoned him?”
“Well, the back door was wide open,” Celia supplied.
“Which doesn’t make any sense,” Carly blurted out. “That door was fine.”
“Oh please, Carly,” said Celia. “I know you’re upset, but the fact of the matter was that you always came in the front door and you were barely here.”
Carly didn’t argue, but Kate believed her friend. What if there had been nothing wrong with the back door? Why wasn’t Celia upset?
“Celia,” Kate started, “do you know a woman named Lily van der Tramp?”
Celia went blank then said, “I don’t think so, why?”
Kate wondered if tipping Celia off when even she wasn’t certain Lily had been involved in Ken’s death would be a good idea. Celia was known to gossip, not that she would in this instance since the subject related to her own family, but still. Kate debated for a moment then asked, “Ken wouldn’t have known her?”
“What is this about, Kate?” she asked impatiently.
“I should talk to Scott. He hasn’t returned my calls yet.”
“I’m sure he’s very busy with this case,” Celia suggested.
Then Carly asked, “Who is Lily van der Tramp?”
“Well, she came to look at Jessica’s house, but...well, I don’t want to worry you. I should really talk to Scott first, but when I came here last night I noticed an SUV parked in the driveway. I didn’t think anything of it because I was preoccupied with deciding which screwdriver I should use. Anyway, when I left after calling the police I noticed the SUV was gone.”
“You should definitely tell Scott,” said Carly emphatically.
Then Celia chimed in. “What does Lily what’s-her-name have to do with that?”
“When she came to Jessica’s I noticed the same SUV. It’s hers.”
“And you didn’t tell Scott?” Carly was stunned. “Kate, how could you not tell him?”
“I don’t know. I was in shock. My main concern was getting in touch with you two. I’ll do it now,” she said, getting up. “Would anyone like coffee?”
“Please,” said Celia.
In the kitchen, Kate put on a fresh pot, as she pressed her cell to her ear. Scott’s cell only rang, so she dialed up his desk phone at the precinct. He didn’t pick up there, either, so she left a message mentioning the SUV and Lily van der Tramp and then immediately dialed the general number for the precinct. When the receptionist picked up, Kate immediately asked where Scott was.
“On a case,” said the receptionist.
“Well could you please tell him to call me back? Kate Flaherty,” she said, spelling out her last name. “I’ve tried his cell and his desk phone. Tell him this is in regard to Ken Johnson’s murder.”
“I certainly will,” said the receptionist before hanging up.
Kate carried three mugs into the living room and set them out on the coffee table then made a second trip with the coffee carafe, cream, and sugar, which she set out and poured coffee in all three mugs.
“Did they tell you what poison was used?” Kate asked.
“I really can’t talk about this,” said Celia. It would’ve been understandable if she was a mess of tears, but Celia seemed only angry. “Carly and I have a lot of arrangements to make for the funeral, relatives to call…oh this is a nightmare.”
“Is there anything I can help you with?” Kate offered.
“That’s very kind of you,” said Carly, drawing a blank.
Kate felt her cell vibrate in her overalls and was fast to answer since she’d been expecting Scott to get back to her. She answered without even looking at the screen, and was surprised when she heard Dean’s deep voice come through clear as a bell.
“Kate,” he said excitedly, which gave her the impression that he might not have heard the news about Ken. How could that be? Celia was the mayor’s receptionist. “I’m in the mayor’s office! I mean, my office. I’m the mayor! Can you believe it?!”
Kate didn’t want to sound too happy in front of Celia and Carly, but she congratulated him. “What can I do for you, Dean?”
“This office is falling apart, and I figured it’d be easier to have you take a look rather than me spending time on these repairs. I’m a bit overwhelmed, as you can imagine.”
“Certainly,” she said. “I’ll be right over.”
As soon as she returned her cell to her overalls, she apologized for having to take off.
“Please call me if there’s anything you need,” she said then hugged Carly. “Celia, I’m so sorry for you loss.”
Politely, Celia said, “Yes, thank you.”
“Did you not tell Dean what happened?” she asked, getting up from the couch.
Celia sighed. “After Dudley’s murder and Harvy’s arrest, I had to ask myself, what am I doing there? And now with my very own husband murdered…well, I called in this morning and left Dean a voice message that I quit. I’m sure I owe him an explanation, but quite frankly, I didn’t have it in me to detail all that over the phone. Besides, I’m sure he reads the paper. And I’m sure he won’t have a hard time replacing me.”
“You do what’s best for you,” Kate said understandingly. “No one can fault you.”
Celia cracked the first smile Kate had seen all morning.
It took a bit longer than Kate would’ve liked driving across Rock Ridge through the midmorning traffic. It was certainly a sleepy town, but since many residents got to work between ten and eleven, if they weren’t an up-with-the-sun type, the roads were a bit crowded, especially Main Street.
As she parked in the lot in front of the DPW building where the mayor’s office was located along with the police station, Kate made a mental note to swing by the homicide department to see if Scott happened to be there.
She found Dean with his sleeves rolled up, standing in the center of his new office. He was turning about and trying to make sense of a mess on the floor, There were old boxes packed to the brim, odd slots of wood that Kate realized were shelves, and most of the paintings on the walls hung off-kilter. She realized she hadn’t set foot in here since the previous mayor had been arrested. Clearly, the police had done a thorough job of tearing the office apart searching for evidence.
Kate set her toolbox just inside the open doorway, which got Dean’s attention.
“Hey! Thanks for coming by,” he said. He looked as if he hadn’t slept all night, too hopped up on the thrill of having been voted mayor to get a decent night’s sleep. “I think the shelves are the worst of it. You tell me if you can repair them, otherwise we can buy a new unit at Grayson’s.”
Kate stepped carefully through the mess and inspected the boards of wood. Some were cracked badly, but a little woodworking glue could do the trick. Lord knew the town didn’t have a dime to spare on brand new furniture fixtures, even if she did get a discount at Grayson’s Hardware.
“I think I can salvage this,” she said, straightening up. “What are you going to do about your receptionist?”
Dean met her gaze finally and his face went long. “It’s just terrible news,” he said. “Not to mention that Celia had become the heart and soul of this office. She knew where everything was. She knew every detail of every correspondence and item up for review. It’s going to take a lot of time to get up to speed.”
“I can imagine.”
As Kate began lining up the boards and gluing their cracks, taking time to assess the shelving unit that was still set against the wall, she asked Dean what she could. They were close, and she felt anything she opened up about or let slip wouldn�
��t backfire. He was good at keeping things to himself.
“Have you talked to Scott at all?”
“Not other than when he congratulated me last night,” said Dean, settling in behind the desk. “See, I don’t even know the password on this thing,” he grumbled, typing angrily into the keyboard. “Then he rushed off to Ken’s house. I got the sense he took Ken’s murder personally.” Dean gave up typing and began sorting through some files on the desk. “They were close, you know?”
“Oh believe me, I know,” said Kate, as she slid the first repaired board into its slot at the top of the unit. “What I don’t understand is how that reporter, Eric Demblowski, got word that Ken was poisoned. That’s a really fast turnaround, if you think about it.”
“Well,” said Dean wryly, “Eric has his ways.”
“You know him?”
“Oh yeah, for years now.” Dean placed file after file into the desk drawer. “He wasn’t always a reporter. Back in the day, we used to go to heavy metal band shows together. I think it was Eric who showed me how to put on guyliner.” He chuckled at that. “Last I heard he was trying to make a name for himself in journalism in New York. Weird that he’s here. He owes me a dinner.”
“He was living in New York?”
“That was my understanding, but we fell out of touch. You know how it goes.”
Lily van der Tramp was also from New York, but how could either of them have possibly known Ken? Or had they not known him but knew they needed him dead? But then again, why?
“So,” Kate began asking as she slid another repaired board into its slot in the shelving unit, “any big plans as mayor?”
“I’ll tell you my plan,” he said proudly. “Running those anarchists out of town.”
Kate paused and gave him her full attention.
“Everyone knows they’re up to no good, and the last thing Rock Ridge needs is a huge corporate development. I happen to know Clem Tully has completely lost confidence in the project. They’re short on cash. The investors expect him to work miracles. His men are exhausted. And now that Ken’s dead, well, I’m more determined than ever.”
“What do you mean, now that Ken’s dead?”
Mrs. Fix It Mysteries: The Complete 15-Books Cozy Mystery Series Page 41
