by Tracy Kiely
My teeth began a slow grind. She wasn’t fooling me for a minute. The only motivation behind the chicken piccata was to make sure that I wasn’t “playing detective,” as she’d so sneeringly referred to it a few days ago. On the slight chance that I wasn’t doing just that (no comment, thank you very much), she decided to try and show me up with her superior organizational and cooking skills. I didn’t know whether to laugh at her or smack her upside her smug little head.
Okay, who was I kidding? I knew exactly which one I preferred.
I squeezed my hand shut to ensure better self-control and shot Ann a look of frustration. To her credit, Ann did not appear nonplussed at Kit’s offer. Instead, she smiled brightly and said, “Well, Kit, that’s very sweet of you. But I think we have everything under control here. Actually, we were getting ready to run an errand or two. But since you’re free today, how about we all meet later for lunch?”
As far as dodges go, it was nicely done. Unfortunately, it didn’t fool Kit for a second. Over the years Kit has become quite an expert at thwarting dodges. “Don’t be silly,” she said firmly. “Since I’m already here, why don’t I just go on the errands with you?”
“It’s a long ride,” I ventured.
“I adore long rides,” she said, giving me a smile that offered me a view of the majority of her teeth. It was a little like being smiled at by a piranha who’d been afforded excellent dentistry. “Besides, it’ll give Ann and me a chance to catch up,” she continued. “So where are we going?”
Ann’s smile dimmed a bit. “Um, well, Bonnie was thinking about updating the pool out back a bit. I promised to get her some quotes while she was gone.”
Kit’s perfectly groomed brows pulled together in confusion. “She isn’t going to use Uncle Marty’s business?”
“Um, probably. I mean, most likely. She just thought it would be interesting to see what else is out there.”
Kit didn’t respond at first. I could practically see her mind’s gears furiously twisting and turning as she tried to work out why Bonnie wouldn’t use the family business to update the pool. She had suspected our errand had something to do with the investigation. Finally she spread her hands and said, “Well, lead the way. I’m at your disposal. You’ve got me for the whole day.”
The whole day? The very thought made me want to lie down in the fetal position. Although Kit truly wanted to help Ann, she also just as sincerely wanted to make herself look better in comparison to me. That meant she’d spend a fair amount of time trying to score points off me. I sighed. Spending the whole day with Kit when she was in one of these moods was like a sudden attack of the twenty-four-hour flu. You knew it was only temporary, but it was sheer hell while it lasted.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, we piled into Ann’s car and set out for Rockville, Maryland, and Donny’s pool company. Figuring that he’d probably be in the office on a Saturday, she decided to try there first. Like she did with Kit, Ann planned to pretend that she was just getting some quotes about updating the pool at Uncle Martin’s. It wasn’t the best plan in the world, but as I could neither talk her out of it nor come up with a better one, it was the one we were stuck with.
As we drove, Kit entertained us with every aspect of her pregnancy thus far (and trust me, there was no detail considered too trivial to mention). To hear her, you would think she was the first of our species to reproduce. My only solace was that she couldn’t act as if this baby was the second coming since she had done that the first time. I think there’s a rule that you are allowed to give birth to only one Messiah. Fortunately, her conversation didn’t necessitate participation from Ann or me. Kit talks a great deal but very seldom requires a response.
We found Donny’s office with little trouble and parked the car in an adjacent parking lot. The building itself was rather nondescript: a redbrick exterior with a green-and-white awning over the glass door. A blue neon sign in the window read MANCUSO’S POOL SYSTEMS.
“My goodness,” said Kit as she stepped out of the car, “this certainly is a long way to go to get additional quotes. How did you ever hear of this place, Ann?”
“Oh, you know,” Ann answered vaguely, “word of mouth.”
Kit eyed Ann and then the store dubiously. “Uh-huh,” she said, clearly unconvinced.
With an air of determination, Ann crossed the small parking lot and pushed open the store door. A bell attached to the back of the door announced our arrival. A low teak table to our right held numerous brochures that seemed to equate pools with a better life. Four matching teak chairs, each with a green-and-white seat cushion, surrounded the table. A young woman sat at the receptionist desk, her round face exhibiting evidence of massive boredom or a recent head injury, as she languidly filed her long pink nails.
Seeing us, she reluctantly put down the nail file and said, “Good morning. Welcome to Mancuso’s Pools. I’m Lindsay. How can I help you?” Her voice held all the warmth and sincerity of a dishwasher.
“Uh, yes,” said Ann. “I wanted to talk to someone about expanding our current pool.”
“Please excuse me a moment while I get one of our specialists to assist you.” Lindsay picked up the phone and pressed a button. “Tim? Are you available to meet with a customer?”
Great, now we were going to have to chat with the wrong guy about our imaginary pool addition. I glanced over at Ann in annoyance. She ignored me. The receptionist nodded to the chairs behind us. “If you would care to have a seat, someone will be with you in just a moment. May I offer you a cup of coffee or tea?”
“Oh, no thank you,” said Ann as she sat down. Kit and I declined a drink as well. Lindsay shrugged. Her patently memorized speech for interacting with potential clients had come to an end. She resumed filing her nails.
I sat down next to Ann. “Now what?” I muttered under my breath, while I pretended to study one of the brochures. On the front was a woman, blond and impossibly stacked, sitting in the pool with a man. From the looks of his pumped biceps and bulging veins, he had recently completed some horribly intense upper-body workout. Her eyes closed, the woman leaned back into the man’s chest, her full lips curved in a contented smile. The man stared outward, his face dreamily satisfied. Below it read, “And they thought they were only getting a pool…” I quickly put the brochure down. Truth be told, I felt a little dirty.
Before Ann could answer my question, a man in a white company shirt and blue slacks came out of a back office. He had sun-bleached blond hair, a spray tan, and a lean, athletic build, qualities that probably are essential for pool salesmen. “Hello,” he said, extending his hand first to Ann and then to me and finally to Kit. “I’m Tim. I understand you ladies are interested in discussing adding on to your current pool?”
I stayed quiet and let Ann handle this. After all, it was her imaginary construction. Kit stood silent as well with an avid expression of interest on her face.
“Yes,” said Ann. “Are you the Mancuso of Mancuso’s Pools?”
Tim shook his head and smiled. His teeth were very white. “No, that’s Donny. He’s the owner, but I’m happy to help you. Why don’t we go into my office so you can tell me what you’re interested in?”
The door jingled again and a large man with jet-black hair and a short beard entered the store. Like Tim, he also wore a white polo and blue pants. However, next to this man, Tim’s lean build looked pubescent. The man’s arms were a rocky, muscular terrain of deeply tanned skin, and his wide chest stretched the Mancuso logo until it was almost unreadable. From the little noise Ann made when she saw him, I guessed that this was Donny. It was also none other than the man Reggie was with in the bar the other night. Tim’s next words confirmed my assumption. “Oh, hey, Donny. These ladies are here to discuss an addition to their pool.”
So Reggie and Donny had apparently renewed their friendship. I wondered exactly when this had happened and, more important, why. From their body language the other night, they had been discussing something serious. Could
it have been the discovery of Michael’s body?
Ann stepped forward, a slightly puzzled look on her face. “Donny?” she said. “Donny Mancuso? I’m Ann Reynolds. Didn’t you work for my father once? Martin Reynolds?” I had to give Ann credit; she carried off her little speech very nicely. It sounded almost believable. Next to me, Kit’s eyes lit up as the penny dropped and she realized the true reason behind our visit. She shot me a knowing smirk before turning her attention back to Donny and Ann.
An expression passed over Donny’s face that I didn’t have time to interpret before he pasted a wide smile on his face. “Well, hello, Ann,” he said, wrapping his large hand around her small one. “How are you? It’s been a long time. How’s the family?”
“Well, I don’t know if you’d heard, but Dad died last week. He’d been pretty sick with cancer and it finally was too much for him.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” said Donny, his voice dropping to a suitable somber tone. “He was a nice man and a good businessman. Here, why don’t you come into my office? We can catch up in there.” Turning to Tim, he said, “I’ll handle this, Tim. Thanks.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Tim replied amiably before disappearing back into his own office.
We followed Donny into a large office consisting of a mahogany desk, opposite which sat four office chairs upholstered in the same green-and-white fabric as the ones out front. Posters touting the many benefits of pools covered the wall. Apparently, this was what was missing from my life; here lay the answers to all my problems. From what I could gather, having a pool would not only transform my body into a sleek, sun-kissed form but would also ensure familial and spiritual contentment—and all for only $35,000!
As Ann, Kit, and I slid into the chairs, Ann introduced us. Donny nodded courteously. “Pleased to meet you,” he said. Taking a seat behind the desk, Donny pushed aside a newspaper. “So what’s happening to the company now?” he asked.
“My brother-in-law, Scott, has taken over,” said Ann. “I don’t know if you remember him. He’s married to my sister Frances.”
Donny nodded. “I remember him. He’s a good guy. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here for pool work? Don’t you guys do pools anymore?”
Ann flushed slightly. “Somewhat. I wanted to get some fresh ideas. I know what our firm offers. I wanted to check out the competition.”
From the way Donny cocked his head slightly, I wasn’t sure that he was buying it. I think Ann sensed that, too, because she abruptly steered the conversation to the real reason we were there. “Speaking of pools, though, did you hear about what happened with the pool at the St. Michaels house?”
Donny shook his head but didn’t speak. Ann continued, “Well, do you remember Michael Barrow?”
Donny’s jaw tightened at the name of the man who replaced him in Reggie’s affections. “I do.”
“Then you know what happened?” I held my breath wondering how Donny would answer.
A faint expression of confusion crossed over his tanned face. “What do you mean what happened? About the money? I had heard that he ran off after embezzling money from your father.”
Ann shook her head. “Yes, well, that’s what we all thought until last week. We recently sold the St. Michaels house and the new owners decided to dig up the pool. The workers found a body under the foundation. It was Michael’s.”
I watched Donny closely for his reaction to this news. I don’t know what I was expecting, but whatever it was, it wasn’t coming. “Oh, that’s terrible. I had no idea,” Donny said in a flat voice, his face expressionless. “Do the police have any ideas what happened?”
Ann shook her head. “No, they don’t. It’s pretty awful, though.”
“Well, I’m sure they’ll figure it out. In the meantime, let’s talk about pleasanter things,” said Donny, changing the subject. “Tell me, what are you thinking about your pool?”
For the next fifteen minutes, Ann rambled on about hot tubs, lighting, and widening the deck. Donny took notes and asked appropriate questions. I sat quietly and tried to look like I found both my surroundings and the conversation fascinating. I also ignored Kit, who I could tell was quivering with anticipation of shouting, “I told you so!” at me the first chance she got. Then, finally, thankfully, the interview came to an end. As we stood to say our good-byes and shake hands, I saw something of note.
On Donny’s desk was today’s Post, open to the “Reliable Source” article on Reggie.
So much for not knowing anything.
Chapter 14
Every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies.
—Northanger Abbey
Once outside and safely back in the car, Kit did just as I expected. “Elizabeth Jane Parker!” she exclaimed shrilly. “I knew it! Not only are you playing detective, but you’ve somehow convinced Ann to play along as well! You have no business involving yourself in this investigation, let alone our cousin! You have no special skills or talents for crime!”
“For your information, coming here was Ann’s idea, not mine,” I shot back just as Ann said, “Kit, I asked Elizabeth to help me, not the other way around. The police seem to think that I may have had something to do with Michael’s death.”
Kit’s eyes grew wide. “You! But that’s absurd! Why on earth would they think that you had anything to do with it?”
Ann ducked her head and didn’t immediately reply. Then she quietly told Kit of Michael’s attack and Sergeant Beal’s suspicion. When she finished, Kit slumped back against the seat. “Dear God,” she said, “how horrible. I’m so sorry, Ann. I had no idea. What a rotten bastard. But I still don’t see why they think you had anything to do with it! I mean, do they think that you killed him and then later came back and buried his body? Why on earth would you do that? It makes no sense.”
“I know,” said Ann. “But unfortunately it seems to be a theory that Sergeant Beal is considering.”
Kit fell quiet for only a moment. “So what are you thinking about this Donny guy? Do you think he was involved in Michael’s murder? Why would he want to kill Michael?”
“He used to date Reggie,” said Ann, as she steered the car out onto the busy road. “In fact, Reggie broke up with him for Michael. He was, if I remember correctly, furious. And he was also on the crew that installed the pool.”
Kit’s brows pulled together. “So you think he might have killed Michael out of jealousy? You know, I saw an episode of CSI where something similar happened.”
I believe I may have mentioned that Kit watches CSI. A lot.
“But he didn’t seem to know anything about Michael,” Ann said.
“Well, that’s not exactly true,” I said. I quickly explained that I’d seen the newspaper on Donny’s desk open to the “Reliable Source.”
“So what does that prove?” Kit asked.
“There was a blurb in today’s column about Reggie and the discovery of Michael’s body on the property at St. Michaels. Donny had to have seen it. Therefore, it stands to reason that he was lying to us.”
“I totally missed that!” said Ann. “Well done, Elizabeth!”
“That’s not all, I’m afraid. The other night I went out for a drink after work with Sam. While I was there I saw Reggie. She was with Donny.”
“What?” Ann cried.
“They were together, and from the looks of it talking about something pretty serious.”
“What do you think it was?” asked Kit.
“I have no idea. Peter called me and I got distracted. When I looked back to where they were, they’d left.”
“Do you think she saw you?” asked Ann.
“I don’t know. She might have. But in any case,” I said, “you need to call Joe right now and tell him what we found.”
“What about Reggie? Should I tell him that she was out with Donny?” Ann asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “That’s your call. Maybe talk to her about it first.”
“Okay,”
Ann said. “Um, but do you think you could call Joe? I don’t think I can talk to him.”
“You want me to call him? And say what exactly? That you got the list of old employees, saw Donny’s name, and then—against my expressed advice, by the way—went to see him on a completely trumped-up reason?”
“I suppose it really doesn’t matter what you say. He already hates me. Thinking I’m an idiot on top of everything else won’t matter much now.” She turned her head, but not before I saw her eyes well up with tears. Kit reached over and soothingly patted her arm. Looking back at me, she mouthed, “Call him.”
I sighed. I was no match for tears. “Fine, I’ll call him.” I took the card Joe had left with us from my purse and punched his number into my cell phone. He answered almost immediately. “Detective Muldoon,” he said.
“Hi, Joe. I mean, uh, Detective Muldoon. This is Elizabeth Parker. I, uh, thought you should know something.” I paused, unsure how to continue.
“I’m listening.”
“Ann was able to get a list of employees from around the time that Michael worked for Uncle Marty’s company.” I glanced over at Ann. Her face was red with anticipated humiliation. Oh, hell. Time to take one for the team. “Well, a name on the list jumped out at me. Donny Mancuso. He used to date Reggie. In fact, he dated Reggie right up until Michael came on the scene. He was also on the crew that put in the pool at St. Michaels.”
“Hang on.” I heard Joe rummage on his desk for a pencil. “Donny Mancuso. M-A-N-C-U-S-O?”
“Yes. Anyway, I looked him up and he, uh, owns a pool company, Mancuso’s Pools, in Rockville. I thought it might be interesting if I went to see him. So, uh … I did.”
I shut my eyes as the icy silence on the other end of the phone lengthened. “I’m sorry,” Joe finally said. “You did what?”
“I went out and met with Donny.” From the front seat, Ann shot me a grateful look. I rolled my eyes and looked away.
