Killed by Clutter

by Leslie Caine

  The next room we peered into, Rachel’s library, boasted a second—and amazing—collection of figurines that instantly commanded my attention. With their delicate long limbs and pale coloring, these dancers were Lladro porcelain, true works of art that I found breathtaking.

  I stared at the pieces so long that Audrey finally had to ask if I was all right. I whispered, “Kay told me the other day that Helen had a lovely collection of Lladro dancers. Isn’t it odd that both Helen and Rachel would collect precisely the same type of figurines?”

  “Let’s get Helen in here for a close look.” Audrey turned on a heel, tossing an: “I’ll be right back,” over her shoulder as she did so.

  True to her word, my landlady soon escorted Helen into the room. “Erin’s discovered a porcelain collection that she thinks might actually belong to you,” she declared without preamble.

  Helen opened her mouth as if to protest, but the color drained from her face. She stared at the figurines as if in shock. “I couldn’t stake my life on it, but yes. These two are either mine, or an exact replica, right down to the smallest of imperfections.”

  I said firmly, “I’m going to ask Officer Delgardio to swing by. She needs to take a look at this.”

  “No, Erin. I’m too uncertain to make a formal accusation.”

  “This is a really rare collection, Helen, impossible to buy new. To have two of them on the very same street without—”

  “What are you looking at?” said a voice behind us with a Bryn- Mawr accent.

  “We were just admiring your porcelain figurines, Rachel,” Audrey said. “They’re absolutely exquisite.”

  “Thank you. They’re Lladro, of course.”

  “I had a very similar collection,” Helen said through clenched teeth.

  “Yes, I remember seeing it once, a long time ago. Before it got buried in your avalanche of junk. I think that’s probably what inspired me to start collecting porcelain myself. I couldn’t stand to see anything that precious treated so haphazardly.”

  “To each his own,” Helen said.

  “Indeed,” Rachel sniffed. “Thank you for coming today, Helen. Jack would have been touched that you insisted on coming to pay your respects, in spite of everything. But then, I’ve always felt that my poor husband was much too nice for his own good. And look at what his kindness toward you got him...an early grave.”

  Chapter 16

  My thoughts remained on Helen and her delicate dancing figurines after we’d abruptly left Rachel’s house. Rachel had just lost her husband and suspected Helen had killed him, so Rachel needed and deserved plenty of slack. Even so, I’d felt a fierce desire to throttle her. The nerve of her for criticizing Helen’s housekeeping when all indications were that she’d stolen Helen’s expensive porcelain!

  Audrey dropped me off at my van, explaining that she planned to double back and “keep a watch over Helen for an hour or so.” I had some free time and decided that, for my own illumination if nothing else, I needed to get a look at the newspaper articles that Helen claimed were now missing from her house. Besides, research was an excellent excuse for a field trip to the Crestview Library. The building’s distinctive architecture and picture windows that showcased the craggy peaks of the Rockies never failed to bring me some much-needed serenity.

  Once there, I took my time in the glorious walkway, which spanned Crestview Creek, watching teenagers tubing down the fast-moving water below me. I then lingered in the children’s section, admiring the playful animal-shaped seats and primary-colored pillows, and finally climbed the spiral staircase above the fountain. On the second floor, my mood dimmed a little as I entered the dreary microfiche room with its bone-white walls and gray-and-blue flecked industrial-strength carpeting.

  Although I’d yet to discover for certain whether or not some newspapers in Helen’s den had been stolen or misplaced, she’d jotted down the approximate dates of Teddy’s trial, and it was infinitely faster to sort through the library microfiche rather than Helen’s daunting stacks. Within minutes I was able to find the articles about the shoplifting ring. As Helen had reported, the officers involved were George Miller and Teddy Fredericks, and there had been concern that both cops were possibly involved in the operation of the ring.

  My cell phone rang, garnishing me irritated glances from three other patrons. I snatched it from my purse to shut it off, but when I saw that the caller was Steve Sullivan, I said a quiet hello, bending over and practically speaking into my purse in my effort to keep my voice hushed.

  “Hey, Gilbert. We need to go over our plans for Stephanie’s. Where you at?”

  “If you mean physically as opposed to spiritually, I’m in the microfiche room at the Crestview library, ticking off everyone in the immediate vicinity by talking on my cell phone.”

  “What are you doing there? Reading back issues of ‘Martha Stewart Living’?”

  “No. I’m doing some research into the murder.”

  In my irritation at him for the “MSL” remark, I’d spoken louder than intended, and a few heads turned my way. I winced. “You caught my attention,” Sullivan said. “I’ll be right there.”

  Ten minutes later, I sensed someone reading over my shoulder and turned to give Sullivan the evil eye. “That’s kind of rude, you know. You can’t even say ‘hi?’”

  But he ignored me and tapped the middle of the screen. “This is odd. Somehow I had the impression that Lois Miller was the whistleblower.”

  “Me, too. That’s what Helen said her sister’s role was. But according to this article, Teddy stated that it was a ring comprised of store employees, and that Lois Miller was their chief suspect.”

  “Jeez.”

  “And then when you read the later articles, it seems that Teddy’s accusations against Lois were lies he told in attempt to cover up his own guilt.”

  “Huh. Didn’t you tell me that Lois dated Teddy after her husband died? And Helen’s real chummy with him now?”

  “Well, I guess they say forgiveness is divine,” I muttered, glancing at my watch. I had to get going.

  “Also could have been deadly, if Helen had eaten the box of poisoned chocolates Teddy gave her.”

  According to the crime lab tests, she’d merely have gotten sick from the chocolates, nor we did we know that they’d already been poisoned when Teddy gave them to her, but this wasn’t the time or place to argue such points. We printed two copies of each of the articles and left together, Sullivan still reading the columns as he walked beside me through the lot. “Sounds to me like Teddy and Helen’s brother-in-law, George, had quite a racket going, then tried to use Lois as the scapegoat when things got too hot.”

  “But George was vindicated and even got to keep his job,” I replied.

  “Maybe he just had better-connected friends than Teddy. According to this article, George and Lois married after charges were already filed against him. Maybe clever George married Lois so she couldn’t testify against him.”

  I snatched the photocopies away from him. “I’m giving these to Linda Delgardio, just in case they have anything to do with Jack’s death.”

  “’Spose it’s possible Helen’s been right all along...that Teddy’s gunning for her, after having killed Lois. Which I guess would mean he had a grudge against her because she testified against him, and held onto his grudge for forty years. Seems strange to wait all that time to get revenge, though. He’s been out of prison for, what? Thirty years now?”

  “It’s up to Linda and her fellow officers to unravel his motives,” I said over my shoulder as I headed toward my own van, parked kitty corner to Sullivan’s. “Right now, I just want the police to acknowledge that Jack’s death was no accident. Till that happens, I’m going to worry that Helen’s liable to have a similar accident herself.” I unlocked my doors.

  “Hang on a sec. I have a mock-up of Stephanie’s game room design in my van.”

  “Oh, good,” I replied. “I’ve got one I did in my van.”

  “Dueling de
signs?” Sullivan scoffed. “Great. Let the games begin.”

  We retrieved our drawings and climbed into my van to study them. I was stunned. “These are all but identical.”

  “I know.” He studied my features as if in awe. Was he floored that I’d managed to produce a design as good as his? He went back to studying my drawing in silence, and I returned to studying his. “The hanging Tiffany lamp over the pool table in your drawing looks larger than the one I chose,” I remarked.

  “Illumination of the table surface is more even that way,” he muttered.

  Our designs had turned that large, dull room into a sophisticated space with quiet elegance, where Stephanie could feel proud to invite her wealthiest friends or potential clients, yet by sliding the pocket doors shut on the pool room and bar area, would be cozy and inviting enough for her even her aunt to cuddle up in front of the fireplace with a good book and her cats.

  We’d both sketched in a large spectacular wet bar with Juparana granite countertops, which feature a dazzling yellow, gold, and black pattern. We’d both chosen buffed sandstone columns to either side of the bar, and Turkish travertine tiles that would shadow the lines of the countertop where it met with the plush, warm Berber carpeting. Behind the bar, both designs were awash in the rich hues of cherry, from the lighted glass cabinets to the corner wine cellar. I’d designed a charming cappuccino nook into my wet-bar design, which I suspected Stephanie would love. With our primo choice of materials and the understated grace, she and her guests could easily imagine themselves having a glass of Chardonnay or a café latte at a charming little bistro in Paris.

  We’d also both used tumbled-travertine tiles to serve as wainscoted walls, but Sullivan had added a granite drink rail to the wainscoting, which was a nice touch; I should have thought of it. In my mind’s eye, I was envisioning a wheat-like color above the wainscoting, something full-spectrum and highly mixed that could be almost chameleon-like—changing hues according to the sunlight that would slant through Stephanie’s French doors.

  “We could put a cove in the ceiling over the pool table. Maybe install copper tiles,” I said.

  “Or even hand-troweled plaster, with pewter paint.”

  “Yes.”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “I like what you did with the space behind the wet bar. I’ll incorporate that into my drawing, then we’re good to go.”

  “I’ll begin making a presentation board.” Then I said on an impulse, “Tell you what, Steve. Why don’t we agree to extend our partnership to include splitting my salary for the job at Helen’s down the middle?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Why would you want to do that? I said I was willing to accept workman’s wages. And to forgo my fee entirely if I got Stephanie’s job.”

  “Yeah, but I probably wouldn’t have gotten the assignment in the first place if you hadn’t happened to be in California when Stephanie was looking to hire you. And we’re already splitting the earnings for Stephanie’s place.”

  He shrugged. “Fine by me.”

  Although stung by his lack of gratitude for my generosity, I continued, “I also want to try to convince Stephanie and Peter to let me add an elaborate workroom in back of Helen’s house. She’s got plenty of land back there. I’m thinking of a long space with lots of windows and counters, and, of course, tons of cabinets for storage.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said with a nod. His eyes were getting the faraway look that I recognized was from his mentally picturing my idea. “Sounds good.” He rolled up my sketch and tucked it under his arm. “You never know. Maybe ‘Sullivan and Gilbert’ are meant to be, after all.”

  I was stunned at his parting words, but he left without waiting for my response.

  An hour and a half after Sullivan and I parted company, I was hard at work in my office, trying to get my ideas on paper for my proposed new storage space at Helen’s house. The door opened and an elderly male voice called, “You up there, Erin?”

  Was that Teddy? “Yes, I’m here. Just up the stairs.”

  “Good! No sense in climbing a flight of stairs for nothing. It’s Teddy Frederickson. And Helen, too. We’ll be right there.”

  I shut the drawer that contained a copy of the articles on the trial and checked hastily to make sure that there were no other embarrassing items in plain view. I’d left the second copy with the dispatcher to give to Linda whenever she returned to the stationhouse.

  The lank Teddy being much taller than Helen, he came into view first. When he beamed at me and said, “Hi, ho, Erin!” I returned the smile, but felt a pang of guilt. Despite my assurances to Audrey earlier at the funeral, I now truly was forming a list of suspects. Teddy Frederickson’s name had moved into the very top spot.

  A step behind him, Helen’s cheeks were flushed, and she was grabbing the rail with both hands. Teddy reached back to help her, but she swatted his hand away.

  “I need your help, Erin,” Helen said.

  “Of course. Anything. What can I do?”

  She slipped into the stuffed chair in front of my desk, then Teddy took the seat beside her. She straightened the hem of her black funeral dress, before answering. “Teddy and I are setting a trap for Rachel.”

  “Oh, no,” I groaned.

  Teddy wagged a bony index finger at me. “We know Rachel’s the culprit who has been breaking into Helen’s house,” he explained. “We think she’s behind everything. All that nonsense about seeing a prowler. Give me a break! She set up her own husband to be fried!”

  I winced. “Why would she do that?”

  He spread his arms theatrically. “To off her husband, of course! It’s the only explanation. Jack was no fool. He wouldn’t have stepped into water in a basement like that. So she follows him across the street, and gives him a little push. Zappo!” He smacked his palms on my desktop. “No more pesky spouse!”

  “The marriage had been in trouble for at least ten years,” Helen added in a much less-lurid tone. “They weren’t getting along...they were fighting like cats and dogs.”

  “But they could have simply gotten a divorce. That’s what most incompatible couples do.”

  “Rachel Schwartz is obviously more money-driven than ‘most’ people,” Teddy insisted. “Why divorce your spouse and split the assets when you can off him and keep it all?”

  Helen frowned but added, “We do already know that she’s stolen valuables from my home.”

  “Yet you weren’t willing to tell the police that,” I reminded her sharply.

  “She told me, though,” Teddy interjected. “Let’s not forget that I’m a retired policeman.”

  “More or less,” Helen muttered.

  “The point is,” Teddy said, leaning forward and gripping the edge of my desk, “I know how to catch her in the act, and when I do, I’ll make a citizen’s arrest.”

  “That’s why I need your help, Erin,” Helen said. “We need you as an impartial witness.”

  “For when things go down tonight,” Teddy added eagerly.

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to have an actual police officer there when you...spring the trap? So that you can make an actual arrest?”

  Helen sighed. “I thought of that, too, dear. But the biggest concession Teddy was willing to make was to let you be there.”

  He chuckled and rose. “Come on, Erin! You’re a young woman! Live it up a little. Take some risks! You don’t actually think you have to worry about any of us being taken out by Rachel Schwartz, do you? Why, I’m a trained officer of the law! I could handle this with both hands tied behind my back!”

  The phone rang, but I decided to let the machine get it. “Please, let’s think this thing through for a minute.”

  Teddy lifted his palms in a gesture of resignation and reclaimed his seat.

  “Helen,” I pleaded, “I really don’t think this is a good idea. You’re talking about springing out at someone while they’re in the midst of committing of a serious crime. In the very household in which a man lost his life.” I listened w
ith half an ear as the machine picked up and continued, “There’s no way you can—”

  “Erin,” the caller said, “it’s Linda. I got the—”

  I lunged at the receiver and shut off the machine just in the nick of time, before Linda could go on to mention the articles I’d given her. “Hi. I’ve got some people in my office. Can I call you back?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  “Okay. Thanks. Bye.” I hung up.

  Helen was studying my face, her brow furrowed. She cast a furtive glance in Teddy’s direction, and I got the impression that she might have deciphered the gist of what Linda wanted to discuss with me. All Helen said now, however, was: “So you won’t come?”

  I met her steady gaze. “Teddy’s plan is really risky.”

  “You really think that Rachel Schwartz is going to break into Helen’s house, armed with an Uzi?” He chuckled.

  “What if you’re wrong? What if it isn’t Rachel?”

  “It is,” Helen said firmly. “I’m certain. And as sorry as I feel for her in losing her husband, that doesn’t give her the right to steal my possessions. I’m determined to embarrass that woman and get her to give me my statuettes back! Will you come tonight?”

  I grimaced. The smart thing to do was to call Linda right now and tell her about this whole silly scheme. Yet I also knew full well that I wasn’t going to do the smart thing. Instead, I was going to indulge the childish part of me. And Mini Me didn’t want to be denied the pleasure of catching Helen’s burglar in the act and, perhaps, solving Jack’s murder in the process. “Let me see if Steve Sullivan can join us, just for strength in numbers.”

  “Excellent!” Teddy sprang to his feet with renewed energy. “Helen’s going to leave right on time, just like always, for her meeting. Then she’ll drive around back, where I’ll be waiting for her. We all need to be sure to park in a street behind the house and take the alley to her back door.”