Closet Confidential

by Maffini, Mary Jane

  I looked around and had to concur. The only two people on Potter at that minute were Rudy and I. The street was lined with aging triplexes with sagging roofs and front stairs you could break your neck on. I wasn’t sure where Dimitri would have gone from there.

  I said, “Does Dimitri live here?”

  Rudy studied me.

  I smiled, encouragingly.

  He said, “No.”

  “Do you know where he does live?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  I waited and then tried again. “Would you be willing to tell me?”

  “Dimitri’s had enough trouble. He don’t need no more.”

  “I agree. I don’t plan to give him any trouble. I want to talk to him about Anabel and how she died. He was upset when I repeated that Anabel’s death was an accident. He insists she was murdered. I’d like to know why he thinks that. Maybe I can help.”

  “You don’t mind me saying so, miss, but you don’t look like you could help out much with no murders.”

  I raised my chin. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

  “Yeah, I sure know that, but I’m still not going to rat out Dimitri to you.”

  “Are you his friend?”

  “I guess I am.”

  “He’s lucky then that you look after his interests. Will you give him my card and ask him to give me a call? He can name a place to meet and leave a message if I can’t get to the phone. I’d like to find out more from him. I will do my best to help him. I can write it all down if you’d like.”

  “No, miss,” Rudy said, tapping the side of his head. “It’s all up here, and I’ll give it to him.”

  As he rumbled down the street I wanted to kick myself for not asking Rudy about the man in the blue coat. I chased after him and caught up panting.

  “Do you remember an odd-looking man in a blue coat who was hanging around the day that Anabel died?”

  He looked up and blinked.

  I said, “He had a hat, too. Something like yours, I think.”

  Rudy thought hard. “You know, I would have remembered that. I pay attention to hats. Didn’t see any guy like that, that day.”

  “Not that day, but some other day?”

  He shook his head. “No, miss. Never seen a guy like that at all around here.”

  He was gone in a whir of wheels, leaving me feeling I hadn’t asked the right question. Had Rudy seen such a man somewhere else? Why would that be relevant? Oh well, I’d pursue it the next time.

  When I returned to the Matrix, I noticed the construction site fronted on Potter Street as well as Friesen. I walked toward it. The back side of the site had the same boards blocking the view of the fence, the same slot for viewing, and, this hit me, its own door, also padlocked. I stood on my tiptoes again and peered in through the viewing slot.

  Had Anabel met someone on the site without being spotted by witnesses on Friesen Street? I figured someone with the right footwear could easily have made their way to the other side where Anabel entered without being injured. I was thinking of a man with boots with a good grip. But had that happened?

  And who might have seen that from Potter Street? If the police hadn’t taken the trouble to interview Thalia Waverman with her unobstructed view of the site, would they have bothered to ask the residents of Potter Street? I added that to my list of questions to ask . . . but ask whom?

  Minutes later, I sat in the Matrix and took out my notebook. Under Rudy’s name, I wrote:

  Did the police talk to him?

  Who does he know on Potter Street who might have been interviewed?

  What does he think happened to Anabel?

  I decided I’d like to ask Dimitri the same questions.

  22

  Have a party, update your wardrobe free, and clean your closet at the same time ! Gather up all the clothes and accessories you no longer wear and invite your friends over to swap their own castoffs for great finds ! Donate what’s left over to a good cause.

  Truffle and Sweet Marie woke up and yawned when I clumped up the stairs and into my apartment. As soon as they figured out there were no treats coming, they curled up under their blankies and went back to sleep. I checked the pile of unfiled papers on my desk. What was happening to me? Papers not filed? That was a first. I located the small, tightly wrapped rectangle of paper I’d found hidden in Nick’s uniform pocket. I unwrapped it. Inside I found a familiar type of plastic hotel door key. I turned it over and checked carefully. There was no identification on the key. It was a bit of purple plastic with an arrow showing the direction to insert. Could have been any hotel in the area. No, that wasn’t actually true. There weren’t many hotels in Woodbridge. We had mostly charming renovated bed-and-breakfasts in our historic uptown and downtown areas. I figured they weren’t using electronic key cards. The hotels were on the edge of town, the usual chains, a few middle-of-the-road spots, and some dingy dives. Why would Nick have a key card to any of them? That was the question. Of course, anyone could have a forgotten key in his pocket, but, in this case, Nick had carefully covered this one in paper. Not a brilliant strategy, but consider the source.

  I took a couple of minutes at my computer to print out a list of hotels and motels on the outskirts of Woodbridge and the bordering towns. Of course, I had no idea if this key was one that Nick had used himself or if he was keeping it for some other purpose. There was no ID on it, hotel or room, so I decided to assume the key was his. Why hide it otherwise? Pepper would have been instantly incandescent at the sight of a hotel key. That in itself would be a good reason to tuck it away in an unused spot. Was that what Nick had been searching for in his closet when the cops arrived? Well, you need some kind of hypothesis to proceed in any experiment or investigation. Mine was that Nick had this room key because he had a room.

  If Nick had a room somewhere, he’d make sure it wasn’t too close to town, in a place he might be spotted. On the other hand, it should be somewhere he might have a reason to be that wouldn’t look suspicious. I checked my map and compared it to the list. I crossed out the higher-end chains. There were lots of business meetings held in those, and Nick might bump into someone he knew. That left a handful of motels in the mid- to lower-end range. I also figured that with all the media fuss, Nick would have changed his appearance a bit and would not be using his own name. I took a couple of minutes to find a clear recent photo of Nick. He’d changed quite a bit since his own wedding photo that was splashed all over the media. I found the one Sally had taken at Margaret and Frank’s wedding dinner less than a year back and printed it out. I popped the key card into my pocket and put the list and the photo into my purse. I had one more thing to check out before I headed to the Beauchamps’. I thought I’d follow up on the motels later, and take my time, because I didn’t know what I’d find. Keeping that in mind, I decided to walk the dogs early, in case it took me a while to get my hotel research done.

  It was my lucky afternoon when I spotted a familiar police officer passing slowly on patrol two blocks away. I hoped that Officer Roger DeJong would remember me gratefully as the kind visitor who’d gifted him the box of Kristee’s black-and-white fudge, rather than as a source of trouble with Tierney. He wasn’t the brightest light on the force, but he didn’t seem to hold a grudge. I took a chance and waved. So far so good, I thought, as he pulled his patrol car over. I stepped out of the Matrix and walked over to talk to him. I tried to sound casual.

  He nodded. Was it my imagination that he looked apprehensive? Maybe he still remembered the rough ride Tierney gave him whenever he had anything to do with me. I smiled in what I hoped was a sympathetic way. “Do you patrol here often?” I said.

  He blinked and then nodded. I imagined he was wondering if Tierney would bite his head off for admitting this.

  “I need to have a word with a young man named Dimitri. Do you know him?” I said.

  “What’s it about?” he asked.

  Why are the police always so suspicious? If I’d said the truth, that I was following
up on an idea I had about Anabel’s death and local criminals, Officer DeJong would tell Tierney that I was nosing around. Didn’t want that, so naturally I fibbed. “Well, I am involved with a charity. We visit older homebound immigrants and we need someone who speaks a bit of Russian to translate something for us for one lady.”

  All right, I admit that was a stretch, but it was the best I could come up with on short notice. I supposed under the right circumstances it might have been true.

  DeJong stared at me assessing that story. I gave him my best wide-eyed smile.

  He said after an unnecessarily long time, “He is an out-reach worker at the youth agency. I don’t think that’s a full-time position. I heard he’s also part-time at the bowling alley. If he’s not at the agency, you might find him there.”

  “Thank you, Officer. I—” He drove off before I finished.

  I trotted back to the car, checked the time, and decided to check out Dimitri after I saw Lorelei, yet again. As I pulled out to start the drive to the Beauchamps’, my cell phone trilled. I pulled over and answered it. Harry.

  “Sorry, Charlotte. Lorelei’s not quite up to it yet. Can we make it four o’clock?”

  “Sure thing,” I said, glad of the extra time. “See you then.”

  I made a U-turn and drove to the only bowling alley in Woodbridge. I supposed I could have walked. I headed inside and glanced around. On this gorgeous June day, there was lots of action inside the vast bowling alley. Who needed sunshine and gentle breezes when you could have tenpin bowling? Amid the usual clatter of pins, cheers, and groans, I spotted Dimitri working the shoe rental. He seemed startled by my presence.

  “I need a word or two. Do you have a minute?”

  He nodded. “I’ll ask my boss to cover.”

  The boss apparently agreed because he nodded and waved us away. This was a good thing, a sign that Dimitri was an asset in the alley. I waited until he beckoned me to a door in the back, and then we stepped outside on the side of the building. I looked around at the Dumpster and shuddered. I hate Dumpsters. He said, “Sorry, I can’t smoke in the front and I could use one.” He pulled a package and a lighter from his pocket, lit a cigarette, and leaned against the graffiti-covered wall.

  “This will sound crazy,” I said, “but I’d heard that there were some dangerous people hanging around on Friesen Street, maybe getting too close to the kids. Do you think that may have had anything to do with Anabel’s death? Could she have overheard something? She was fearless. Would she have told off the wrong person? Interfered with some transaction? Threatened to call the cops?”

  He exhaled, shook his head. “She would never call the cops on the kids.”

  “I didn’t mean the kids, but the bad elements who might have been selling drugs or . . .” I wasn’t sure what the bad elements might have been up to, although there were a limited number of possibilities, drugs being high on the list, so I let it drop at that.

  I could tell he was thinking hard.

  “Small-time scum mostly. Dealers would beat up a kid who tried to pull a fast one. But these guys aren’t going to kill a citizen on the streets of Woodbridge. So what if she saw them or even threatened them? Nothing’s going to happen to them. They wouldn’t need to kill her, just ignore her. It was up to the cops to stop them, and they never seemed to be able to get proof of anything. If they do get arrested, they can afford the good attorneys. Life’s not always fair here in the land of the free.”

  “Who do you think was behind it?”

  “I can’t imagine anyone trying to hurt her for any reason.”

  Of course, I was no further ahead. I took a deep breath and said, “I understand your friend Jewel didn’t like Anabel.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Jewel is a confused girl, but she isn’t going to hurt anyone. She was angry, and she let me know it. She’s in California now. She wanted to be a tattoo artist. Lots of business there. She’s over it.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” I said. “Do you know if she ever comes back to Woodbridge?”

  He stood up, tossed the cigarette on the ground, and stepped on it. “I don’t. And I wouldn’t tell you if I did. I thought you were trying to help, not bring more trouble.”

  I felt a shiver as he gave me a dirty look. What did I know about him anyway? I glanced around. While the inside was bustling, here I was alone with Dimitri. It hit me that Dimitri himself could have been the badass influence who was getting too close to some of the more vulnerable kids. I imagined Tierney’s voice saying, When will you learn?

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I am ready to give up on this. Anabel’s mother thinks someone killed her, and I thought you felt the same way. I guess it was a mistake on my part to ask around, and I’m going to tell her mother that. In fact, they’re expecting me and I should go.”

  Dimitri stepped toward me and I stepped back. I felt a frisson of fear. I realized that it had been pretty dumb to let myself be alone in an isolated place with a man who might be very dangerous. Of course, up until that moment I hadn’t thought he was dangerous, just a grieving boyfriend. I, of all people, should have understood that the boyfriend is not always what he seems. Still, I didn’t get it. If Dimitri was implicated in any way, why would he have insisted that Anabel had been murdered? It didn’t make sense. I straightened my shoulders and tried to figure how to get past him and back into the bowling alley. At that moment a squad car turned the corner slowly and drove past us. I felt like kissing the grouchy Officer DeJong, although I didn’t think he’d appreciate the gesture much.

  I waved merrily. He waved back grouchily. As the patrol car inched forward, I realized my knees were weak.

  Dimitri melted back into the building as DeJong pulled up by my side.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Sure,” I said. After all, Dimitri didn’t know my full name or my address or anything else about me.

  “Can I do anything?” he said. “You look like you’ve had a scare.”

  “I guess I have had.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t talk to lowlifes. I shouldn’t have told you where to find this guy. I didn’t think he was dangerous or I wouldn’t have. Detective Tierney will have my head on a spike.”

  “Not your fault. Our little secret. And anyway I’ve learned my lesson. From now on, I’m only talking to police officers. Ha-ha.”

  He grinned, something that didn’t happen often from what I’d seen. I took advantage of the grin to say, “Do you know Dean Oliver?”

  He blinked. “Dean? Of course I know him. We’re a small force in Woodbridge. Why?”

  “Because the whole reason I wanted to talk to Dimitri is that I need to reassure Anabel Beauchamp’s mother that her death was an accident and not murder. I was convinced it was an accident, and then all this stuff with Nick Monahan made me wonder. I read in the paper that this Officer Oliver was on the scene as well as Nick. I thought he might clear things up.”

  Officer DeJong’s brow furrowed. He hesitated and stared at me. After a long pause, he said, “I didn’t know he was there. But if it was in the paper, I guess it can’t do any harm to talk about it.”

  “Exactly. What harm could it do?”

  “Don’t ask me. I keep getting everything wrong lately. Anyway, you already know Dean, I think. He was at Bakker Beach and at the hospital, too. Didn’t he drive you home?”

  “Oh.” I barely stopped myself from saying, He’s the smart, cute one. DeJong’s day had apparently been bad enough without insulting his own intelligence or mustachioed appearance. “Of course. I’ll look for him.”

  “Don’t tell Tierney I told you anything,” he said with another failed attempt at a hairy grin. “Dean’s a golden boy. He can’t put a foot wrong. So he won’t have to worry about getting roasted.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for being here when I needed you, Officer DeJong. I appreciate it.”

  DeJong flushed. I guessed he wasn’t used to being thanked. “Hey, be careful. Le
t the detectives work it all out. We don’t know what’s happening lately. Maybe when they turn up Nicky Monahan we’ll get to the bottom of things.”

  “I’m not convinced he could have done these things.”

  DeJong shook his head sadly. “Doesn’t make sense, does it? I’ve known Nicky since he joined the force. I can’t figure what went wrong. That girl’s death hit him real hard. He must have snapped. Lost his marbles. You ask me, he needs help.”

  “Maybe,” I said with a sad smile.

  Harry was waiting at the door when I arrived. He shook his head sadly.

  I said, “Oh.”

  He shrugged. “The champagne cocktail today is ambrosia. Would you like one?”

  “No thanks. I don’t need anything, but I think we should talk.”

  He gestured toward the grand, stark living room, and I followed him in.

  “It’s not working, is it?” he said.

  “Maybe when Lorelei has some closure over Anabel’s death, she’ll be able to take care of her closets. Right now, they’re the least of her problems. Let it go.”

  “You’re right, Charlotte honey. I suppose I am trying to distract her. But there’s good news, though. She has decided to humor me, in turn, and let me pack away those winter coats in the front closet. We usually put them in the cedar closet. It’s got a climate control so the fur trims are all right.”

  “I can help you with that,” I said.

  Harry wouldn’t relax until I had ginger ale in a champagne glass. As I sipped, he said, “I keep hearing about this attack on Detective Pepper Monahan. It’s a terrible story. She’s a beautiful woman. I can’t believe her husband could treat her like that.”

  “We don’t know what actually happened yet.”

  After some casual chat and a plate of crackers and cheese, we headed to the crowded closet. We separated out those coats and jackets that needed cleaning. One beautiful silky trench in an unusual shade of amethyst was covered with splashes of dirt, and a cashmere car coat had a large coffee stain. A blue knit cape had some kind of unidentified grease on it. We laid those aside for cleaning, and Harry took an armload of coats. I did as well. “It’s a small thing,” he said, “but I have to feel I’m getting something accomplished.”