The Begonia Bribe

by Alyse Carlson

  “Yeah?” Barry whispered, giving away that he wasn’t alone.

  “I take it you have Mindy and the girls there. I need to talk to you—I think you’ll want to hear me out.”

  “Why would I?”

  “We have photographic evidence that it may have been you who rigged the lights to fall on Dylan Markham.”

  “Who? Why would I hurt a guy I don’t know?”

  “That’s what we want to know. Will you meet me or not?”

  “No.”

  “Then my next step is to call Mindy and share some information from a blogger called ‘Burned by a Real’ . . . She gives pretty good detail of a brief affair.” Cam went on to describe some of those details.

  “Fine! I’ll come!” He stopped Cam before she could finish, in her mind confirming the connection. He named a downtown diner and said he’d meet Cam there.

  “Okay . . . Aesy’s,” Cam said. “I’ll be there.”

  “Hey, I know their morning cook,” Annie said after Cam hung up. “He comes in for muffins before they open—early. I’ll go in the back way and back you up . . . take pictures.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “Yes it is. I know what kind of trouble you get up to. Rob ever leave a wire here?”

  “Wire?”

  Annie rolled her eyes. “So someone else can listen? Jake has one. I’ll be right back.”

  Instead of going upstairs, Annie looked either way, then pulled keys from somewhere and went out to Jake’s police car. She rummaged for a minute, then came back with a handful of gadgets.

  “Get there first. Sit near the kitchen. If you are within twenty feet, I can hear with no wiring.”

  “Then we need to hurry.”

  “Pants me!”

  “What?”

  “Shorts, sweats—give me something to put on.”

  Cam grabbed a lightweight pair of capris and tossed them at Annie, pulling a sundress over her own tank top and shorts. The two took off.

  * * *

  Cam was glad for how close to downtown they lived and how negligent Annie was about the speed limit. They parked behind the diner, Annie’s downtown entrepreneur pass allowing them to park in a spot not open to the public. They actually entered through the back.

  In the kitchen Annie did the talking. Ronny, the head chef, called over one of the waitresses, who nodded a lot and then seated Cam at a table near the kitchen. As Cam followed the waitress, she saw Annie tuck a chair against a wall, out of the way of activity, and out of sight from the main restaurant.

  Barry was already seated, but the waitress went over and explained to him that his party was waiting at another table. He looked confused but followed her back to Cam’s table.

  “You seem to be the bane of my existence, Miss Harris.”

  “And you, mine. Maybe you could clear some things up and then we can leave each other alone . . . if you’re not rotting in jail, I mean.”

  “I don’t know what delusions you have, but I know there is no reason I’d rot in jail.”

  “Then explain this.” Cam pulled out a cheap camera that nevertheless managed to play the memory card from Annie’s pictures. It was a duplicate. Cam was glad Annie was used to such things and was paranoid about backing up her files.

  “I don’t know what I’m looking at.”

  “You, leaving your seat toward the side of the stage, just as somebody was booby-trapping the lighting to fall on Dylan Markham.”

  “I have no idea who Dylan is.”

  He’d said that once before, but she still didn’t believe him.

  “Lighting guy? He saw you argue with, and then kiss, Officer Olivia Quinn.”

  “I was letting her down easy,” Barry said. “That’s why I went back—to say good-bye.”

  “Nice, prolonged good-bye kiss?”

  “She asked for a kiss good-bye! I was leaving her! I felt bad.”

  “I’ll be sure and explain that to Mindy.”

  “No! She couldn’t understand.”

  “She’s not alone there. Kissing the woman who framed your wife can’t possibly be popular.”

  “But she didn’t do it.”

  “You aren’t the first idiot to believe your mistress, but I thought you’d switched teams.”

  “No. I’m serious. I believe her—I talked to the maid who had falsely accused her—and I let Olivia talk to her!” Barry said.

  “You can’t get real answers when you let a cop intimidate a witness!”

  “Then get that cop friend of yours to check. Olivia didn’t do it. She’s being set up, too.”

  “Give me a break.”

  “I’m serious. Have that cop friend talk to the hotel worker.”

  “And she’s innocent like you’re innocent. Man, you two deserve each other.”

  “Cam, I know I’m a cad. And I’ll be the luckiest man on the planet if Mindy forgives me. But I didn’t hurt what’s-his-name. And I was saying good-bye to Olivia.”

  “Okay, so tell me about the sexual harassment suit in Lynchburg—the one you left town for.”

  “Geez. You are a snoop.”

  “A snoop with Mindy on speed dial.”

  Barry gave a small shiver, which Cam took to mean he was squirming, so she went on.

  “And the blogger? She’s under the impression that your real estate sales appeal includes a Barry boink as standard.”

  “Another woman jealous I wouldn’t leave my wife for her. I told you I had trouble resisting bimbos.”

  “Then why on Earth would anyone think you might change?”

  The waitress brought coffee and asked for their orders. Cam laid a five on the table and left. She didn’t care if Barry ordered or not. She knew she wouldn’t get any more out of him, at least not with his neck still intact.

  * * *

  When Cam and Annie got back to their split house, Jake was sitting on the front steps with a cup of coffee. There was a small stack of weeds on the sidewalk and Cam wondered just how bored he’d been.

  “Dare I ask?” he said.

  “Cam had some questions. I was just providing backup,” Annie said, kissing Jake.

  “With police equipment?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Hey, you were gardening. It was trade-jobs day,” Cam said. Jake ignored her.

  “You know what trouble she gets herself into.” Annie blinked.

  “And my underwear?” Jake added.

  Cam smirked as Jake pulled Annie into a hug.

  “You’re incorrigible,” he said.

  “You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Annie said.

  “I suppose that’s true,” Jake admitted. “So what did you learn?”

  “Well, Barry left his seat just before the lights fell last night. But he swears he was telling Olivia Quinn good-bye. Dylan witnessed a kiss—a good-bye kiss, Barry says. And Barry insists Officer Quinn is being framed in the framing,” Cam said.

  “He does, does he?”

  “We don’t believe him,” Cam said. “But he thinks some third party is framing Quinn.”

  “Who would do that?” Jake said.

  “It seems like the only person who knows for sure is that maid.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes. “I can certainly bring her in for more questioning.”

  Cam thought Jake looked strangely at peace with this development. Annie sat by him and looped an arm through his. “You did hear we’re not saying we believe Barry—just that it’s worth asking?”

  Jake removed her arm. “And you’re saying the two of you feel up to police work without a police officer?”

  “Oh, don’t be like that.” Annie stuck her lip out. It was such an obvious pout that Cam knew Annie was joking, but Jake either missed the teasing or enjoyed it.

  “Then don’t run off questioning witnesses with my equipment . . . and my underwear . . . without at least letting me know first.”

  Annie looked guilty, but Cam wasn’t feeling it. Jake had failed to follow through too many tim
es for her to feel bad for getting an answer or two. Still, she was relieved when Annie convinced Jake to let them watch the questioning of the maid.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long for Jake to round her up. Her address was on file as a witness, and she apparently had Sundays off. They asked her to come to the station and she did, in her Sunday best, annoyed to be disturbed on her free day.

  Jake began with the idea of an alternate witness with a different story, the fact that the woman could lose her job over the testimony—but only if the alternative was true, not it if was false—then slipped in the accessory to murder charge if the original testimony was proven untrue and had helped the killer get away.

  “Killer? I thought it was just about love! Love and money,” she admitted. “The woman paid me a great deal.”

  “Which woman?”

  “I don’t know her. I only saw her once.”

  “This woman?” Jake held up a picture of Officer Quinn.

  “No—she was the one I was to blame.”

  “What did the other woman look like?”

  “Tall. Dark. Very curvy . . . the good kind of curvy.”

  Jake opened the folder to another page. “This woman?”

  “Yes! That’s her!”

  “And she paid you to blame this other one?” He turned the page back to the picture of Olivia Quinn.

  The woman nodded happily, apparently relieved they’d figured it out. Unfortunately, Cam just felt more confused.

  * * *

  “Jessica Benchly is our briber. I’m not convinced she’s our murderer, though,” Jake said when the woman had left.

  “Well, of course not,” Annie said. “She’s got huge . . . tracts of land . . .”

  Cam snorted in spite of the situation. Jake didn’t seem to grasp the reference, or at least didn’t have their same appreciation of Monty Python or innuendo.

  “You know we’re on our own,” Annie said when she and Cam were on their way out of the station.

  “Yeah. Men don’t think straight when huge ‘tracts of land’ are involved. We’re looking for a connection between Jessica and Barry?”

  “I’d say so. Jessica snowing men doesn’t seem very searchable.”

  “Wait a minute. Maybe huge tracts of land really is the answer,” Cam said.

  “Erm.”

  “Barry’s a realtor. Maybe he met Jessica . . . buying or selling . . .”

  “Barry’s the one who told us Jessica was a friend of Officer Quinn. Why would he make a connection for us like that if he’s part of it?” Annie asked.

  “Maybe he planned to turn on her the whole time?”

  “That double-crossing . . . I like it! So he’s the killer?” Annie said.

  “Or maybe he was just scamming Jessica and she got into something.”

  “Oh, make up your mind.”

  “That’s just it. This isn’t a nice, neat story. But I bet if we search public records for sales and purchases, we can connect them, and maybe it is the hint we need.” Cam felt triumphant as Annie pulled into the driveway and then followed her inside.

  “Or maybe we go talk to Mindy, then you distract her and ask for something, and I look in drawers for proof her husband is rotten while she shows you.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “I thought we’d established that already. Yes. I’m nuts. I’m your best friend, aren’t I?”

  Cam stuck out her tongue.

  “Guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk to Mindy. She doesn’t know what we know, and maybe she should . . .” Cam started.

  Annie nodded. “Call her.”

  Cam sighed but obliged her friend. She wondered if Mindy knew Cam had met her husband for breakfast. A little voice in her head that sounded like Annie followed up with, “and got nowhere.” She pulled up Mindy’s number on her phone.

  “Cam! I’m glad you called!” Mindy answered.

  Cam prayed Barry wasn’t in the room. “I hoped maybe I could say good-bye to you and the girls. Are you back at the Travelodge?” She knew they weren’t—Barry had obviously had someone there when she called earlier and her money was on Mindy. But she felt it was in her best interest to play dumb.

  “Well, no. We stayed at Barry’s last night—and before you warn me—I know what he’s been, but he seems to sincerely want to try!”

  “Well, I hope that’s true—that he really wants to put you and the girls first. Are you at his place at the Patrick Henry, then?”

  “Yes. Should we meet you in the park?”

  “It’s already ninety degrees out. Is Barry home? Maybe I could just come up?”

  “He’s not, as a matter of fact. I can call the doorman and he can let you up.”

  Fortunately, Mindy had interpreted Cam’s question as permission for access and not the avoidance it was. “Do you mind if Annie comes?”

  “Annie?”

  “She got really attached to Lizzie. She’d like to say good-bye.”

  “Oh. Well, of course.”

  Cam was glad Mindy found rudeness mortifying, or surely Annie would have been excluded.

  “We’ll be there soon.”

  * * *

  Cam and Annie both changed to more appropriate daytime clothes—a sundress for Annie and capris and a tank top for Cam—before they left. They easily found street parking for the Bug, and the two told the doorman they were expected by Mrs. Blankenship.

  “Yes. She called. Here.” He led them to the elevator and when it opened, used a key to signal the right floor, then stepped out and let Cam and Annie rise.

  “He must be rich,” Annie said, referring to Barry, not the elevator attendant.

  “I think that’s a safe bet.” Cam knew most of the building was more affordable, but this special treatment did indeed seem rich.

  “Do you get rich in real estate?” Annie asked.

  “You can, I guess. It depends on the kind you sell and how good you are at it.”

  “Yes, I suspect Barry Blankenship relies heavily on being good,” Annie said.

  Cam gave an annoyed nod at the innuendo but didn’t comment.

  The elevator opened to a wide hallway with only two doors, one at each end. It wasn’t the penthouse, which had the whole top floor, but it was certainly up there.

  They turned to the left and knocked. Mindy opened the door a little ways, only to be mowed aside as Lizzie rushed out into the hallway and hugged Annie.

  “Heya, Squirt! How’s it going?”

  “I have a cool room at my dad’s. Want to see?”

  “Sure. If it’s okay with your mom,” Annie said.

  Mindy didn’t look thrilled but nodded. When they’d gone, she frowned at Cam.

  “I would have thought you’d think better of Annie by now. Your girls love her,” Cam said.

  Mindy pursed her lips then sighed. “Maybe that’s the problem. They don’t think much of me. Lauren prefers her dad and Lizzie prefers this stranger.”

  “I suppose Annie is a stranger, but I think, for Lizzie, that takes the pressure off. She doesn’t have to try and figure out who she needs to be to make Annie happy. She can just be herself.”

  Mindy stared at this foreign concept. Cam thought the idea of some other “normal” terrified Mindy.

  Cam explained Lizzie’s wish to be disqualified from further pageants to a gaping Mindy, then changed subjects. “So you want to show me this fancy place?”

  That set Mindy right. She smiled and took Cam’s wrist. “It’s amazing!”

  “Does Barry own it?”

  “Only leasing—the building isn’t selling . . . ever. He’s leasing a number of apartments below and keeps dangling this one, but he’s priced it way too high for now because he’d rather stay here until the units below go.”

  Cam got the grand tour: four bedrooms, large entertainment space, formal dining room, modern kitchen, study . . .

  “Someone put in a lot of money,” Cam said.

  “The developers were really looking for high-end clients
for these top few floors. The rest is . . . you know . . . to revitalize downtown Roanoke.”

  “How many super rich can there be in Roanoke who want an apartment downtown? Does he have a who’s-who—Barry’s fancy list?”

  “Oh, he does, but he tries to be discreet. Some people prefer not to be in the public eye for things like real estate.”

  “But it’s all public record—people can just go to the county and see—why would he be secretive?”

  “It’s not as public on leases—they’re more private.”

  “Are they clients he doesn’t want you to know about?”

  “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Mindy, I don’t want to hurt you, but . . . can you log us onto the internet?”

  Mindy frowned but turned on the computer. She glanced at Cam irritably several times as it turned on and the internet loaded. Cam pulled up Burned by a Real . . . and pointed out the Barry clues.

  “Well, I don’t believe that.”

  Cam took a deep breath, aiming for understanding. “If you can’t believe, you can’t. But I couldn’t know and not tell you. Answer a question, though. Does your husband know Jessica Benchly?”

  “Jessica? The former Miss Virginia?”

  “The same.”

  “Not that I know of. Why would he?” Cam thought perhaps her responses sounded rehearsed.

  “We thought maybe she purchased some real estate from him.”

  “We? This has Annie all over it. She is always judging me.”

  “Actually, I’m just as paranoid as Annie on this. We both just wanted you to have your eyes open. That’s all.”

  Mindy was more terse through the rest of the tour, but Lizzie found them again, insisting Annie had said Cam would like the flower boxes on the balcony. Cam and Mindy followed her out. The flower boxes were nice, but Cam stalled for other reasons. She thought Annie had spotted something that needed investigating.

  * * *

  On the way out, Cam saw Benny cleaning the stage and park. They wandered over and said hello.

  “How’s Dylan’s ankle?”

  “Two weeks in a cast, six weeks splint and crutches. Could be a lot worse. You nailing whoever did it?”

  “Now there’s a concept,” Annie said. Cam punched her. It was just like Annie to turn everything into innuendo.

  “Trying. We have a couple of leads.”