Maddie Cochere - Two Sisters and a Journalist 01 - Murder Under Construction

by Maddie Cochere

  Instead of stepping into the water, she strode onto the dock, kicked off her sandals, and stripped off her shorts, exposing a lace thong. She bent over and swished the shorts in the water.

  My laughter was uncontrollable. She had no shame whatsoever at sticking her bare butt in the air as she rinsed the shorts.

  I heard a female voice behind me. “You do know this is private property, don’t you?”

  I whirled around to face the woman, knowing full well guilt registered on my face.

  “Hey, I’m sorry,” Jackie said. “I fell in the mud in your yard.” She didn’t give any further explanation for her actions.

  Pepper chose that moment to leave her legal position on the front steps and come running around the corner of the house and down the path. Before any of us could warn her, she was on her butt and sliding.

  Everyone who lived on the lake could surely hear her when she yelled, “Dammit!”

  The woman asked, “Who the hell are you people, and what the hell are you doing on my property?”

  Carol Bristol-Meyers obviously needed someone to talk to her about her swearing.

  ~ ~ ~

  The view of the lake from Carol’s kitchen was beautiful, and the homemade sweet tea was refreshing. Pepper and Jackie were both wearing towels sarong style while their shorts dried in Carol’s dryer.

  “Paula has worked at Telcor for about six months,” Carol said. “I asked all of the girls in the office to be bridesmaids. We’re all close, and we spend time together outside of the office. I didn’t want to leave Paula out, so I asked her, but I was surprised when she said yes.”

  “What do you know about her?” I asked.

  “Not much. She’s nice. She tries hard to fit in and do a good job at the office.” She paused for a moment before saying, “Well, she did try to fit in and do a good job. She was fired while I was on my honeymoon.”

  “Why was she fired?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. The official reason was cutbacks, but I don’t understand that, because we have more business than we can handle right now.

  Jackie asked, “Do you know where she lives?”

  “She’s in the upper apartment of a house on the corner of Elm and Second Street. It’s the loud purple one with the navy trim. I had to go there once to drop off her bridesmaid’s dress.”

  I pulled the photo showing only Paula’s face from my purse. It was the same photo as the one in the newspaper, but this one was in color. I slid it slowly across the table and asked, “Is this Paula?”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “This is Paula? Is she really dead?”

  “We’re pretty sure it’s Paula,” Jackie said. “That’s what we want to know from you.”

  She nodded her head. “It’s her. When did she die? How did she die?”

  “She was murdered a week ago,” I said. “Stabbed in the chest and left naked in a construction site over in Buxley.”

  Carol’s eyes filled with tears. “Who would want to kill her?”

  Pepper reached out a hand and placed it on Carol’s arm for a moment before saying, “The police think up until about two years ago, she was a prostitute in Pittsburgh. She went by the name of Ruby Rosewell.”

  “Paula was a prostitute? Ruby Rosewell? I don’t believe it.” She sat speechless for a few moments before saying, “I had a prostitute in my wedding. And now she’s dead.”

  I thought those were both good reasons not to take delivery of the wedding photographs.

  “Carol, do you know Terry Cord?” I asked. “He’s the guy who wants to run for mayor in Marietta.”

  “I don’t know him on a social level, but he comes into our offices a couple of times every month. We’re an investment firm. We find properties in distress. They’re either blighted or in financial difficulty, so we buy them, and sell them to developers for a profit. Most of our investors are brought to us by Mr. Cord.”

  Jackie asked, “Do you think Paula knew him very well?”

  “I can’t say for sure. They spent quite a bit of time together in the records room going over files, but I have no idea if they talked personally. Why?”

  Pepper blurted out, “We think Ruby was pregnant with his child, and he murdered her.”

  “No. No. No,” I said while shooting eye daggers at Pepper. “That’s just one of a hundred theories. We have no idea if Mr. Cord had anything to do with her death.”

  “I can assure you he didn’t,” Carol said. “He and his wife are in Cancun on vacation. They left on the day of my wedding and won’t be back until tomorrow. He joked about both of us being on honeymoons at the same time, but his would be a second honeymoon and was lasting a week longer than mine.”

  I stood from the table. “Ok, girls. Your shorts are surely dry by now, and we need to get going. I have to get ready for my date.”

  Pepper giggled and told Carol, “Jo is finally going out with a co-worker who’s been bugging her for weeks for a date.”

  She smiled and asked, “Where do you work?”

  “Buxley Mortgage,” I said.

  Her smile broadened and she said, “Small world. We use a guy who works there for most of our appraisals. Stewart Tofts.”

  Pepper squealed and said, “That’s who Jo’s going out with tonight. Do you know him?”

  Carol laughed. “It’s the same as with Mr. Cord. He comes into the office every now and then, but I’m not usually the one who helps him.”

  I was stunned to hear this. Stewie dealt with the appraisers for our customers, but I didn’t know he did appraisals himself, or possibly had an appraisal business on the side. I asked, “Did Paula talk with him?”

  “She did. She was in charge of the records room and all of the filing, so she gathered paperwork for him when he came in.”

  Why did Stewie say he had never seen her before when he saw her picture in the newspaper? On the other hand, it was a terrible picture and didn’t look like her at all.

  After Jackie and Pepper were in dry shorts, we apologized for intruding on Carol’s day and thanked her for her hospitality. Before going out the door, I thought of one more question. “Carol, who owns Telcor?”

  “I don’t know who the actual owner is, but it’s someone from Germany. We’ve had a few representatives in the office, but I’ve never met the actual owner or even heard their name. All of our business is handled under the corporation name.”

  We left with Carol wishing me to, “Have fun with Stewart.”

  Chapter Nine

  “The lawyer is forced to sleep in the barn. A few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. It’s the pig and the cow.” He threw his head back and laughed uproariously.

  Kill me now. This was the fifth lawyer joke Stewie had rattled off within ten minutes. I had laughed politely at the first three, but put my head down and picked at my food with the last two.

  “Don’t you like a good lawyer joke?” he asked. “These are classic.” He was still chuckling.

  “I’m not big on jokes. I never did like them, even as a kid.”

  He twirled spaghetti into huge bites, and followed each with a piece of buttered bread slathered in sauce from his plate. Eating with Stewie was proving to be more embarrassing than enjoyable.

  “Tell me about your childhood, Jo. If you didn’t like jokes, what did you like?”

  Definitely kill me now. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about my childhood – especially with Stewie. I didn’t want to be rude, but I certainly wasn’t going to offer details from my past.

  “I liked riding my bike,” I said.

  “Who didn’t?” he asked with a laugh. “I’m an only child. It must have been fun to grow up with a brother and a sister.”

  Not hardly. Pepper and I fought about everything from toys, to clothes, to boys – in that order. We had only become friends as adults. With Hank being a mama’s boy, he was attached to her hip for most of his childhood. Unless I was watching him for Mama, he was with her or his own set of friends. I didn’t want to
talk about that either.

  “It was ok,” I said before taking a sip of wine and returning my gaze to my plate.

  My chicken parmigiana was delicious, but I was disappointed he had chosen Mama Rosie’s Pizza Emporium for our date. A hot dog at the ice cream stand would have been preferable to Mama Rosie’s. I knew the underlying reason for my dissatisfaction with the restaurant was that it reminded me of how brusque he had been with me at lunch on Wednesday. It wasn’t pleasant to be here again.

  He leaned forward, and I saw that he was uncomfortable. “Jo, help me out here. I’m just trying to get to know you better. Tell me some of your favorites. Color, movie, song?”

  I knew I was being difficult. I forced a smile. “Ok, I’m sorry. My favorite color is orange. Movie is Midnight Run. It’s from the eighties. Di Niro is in it. And I don’t really have a favorite song. When I clean the house, I usually listen to The Rolling Stones.” Under my breath, I added, “Or Justin Timberlake.”

  He roared with laughter. “Did you say Justin Timberlake?”

  I couldn’t help laughing with him. “It’s not something I can control. I love his voice, and I think he’s cute. He brought sexy back.”

  For the first time, I felt an ever-so-slight slight attraction to him. His eyes radiated happiness behind his horn-rimmed glasses. I relaxed considerably.

  “Yeah. I have to admit,” he said. “The man sure can sing.” He leaned back in his chair. “What about your father? He wasn’t at the cookout, and I’ve never heard you mention him.”

  My smile disappeared. We never talked about my dad. Ever. He went out one night to play poker with his buddies, and he never came back. I was five years old at the time. Mama nearly went crazy not knowing what happened to him. We all cried like banshees for weeks. Six months later, a postcard arrived from Mexico. Dad said he was ok, but he was never coming back to Mama or the States. From that day on, no one said another word about him. Not around Mama anyway. Sometimes Pepper and I would lie in bed at night and wonder why he left, or what he was doing, or even what he looked like, but that was a long time ago.

  I pushed my plate away and said, “He died when I was five.”

  Stewie made appropriate facial and verbal expressions to show his sympathy, but I brushed them off by simply saying, “It’s ok. I don’t even remember him.”

  We sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes. He finally said, “Let’s get out of here. What do you say to some miniature golf? I haven’t played since I was a kid. We can go over to Crown Gables.”

  Even though my feelings for him were all over the map so far, I wasn’t yet ready to call it quits for the evening. “Ok. Sounds like fun,” I said.

  He flagged down our waitress and paid the bill. A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of Buxley Mortgage.

  “I have to make a quick stop,” he said. “I was going over my file for the Jackson closing Monday morning, but I don’t have all of the paperwork. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  While Stewie searched for his paperwork, I used the restroom. I had never been in the office after hours, and it felt odd being there on a Saturday night. The quiet bordered on unsettling. Barb always had the radio playing, and between her clacking away on her computer keyboard, and Stewie and Brian talking on their phones, there was always background noise to give the office a busy atmosphere.

  When I came out, Stewie was on the telephone in his office. He made a couple of hand gestures to let me know he didn’t know how long he would be.

  I sat down at my desk and fiddled with a container of colorful paper clips. Our date was going fairly well, and I was looking forward to miniature golf. He appeared happy enough, and there would likely be another date if I agreed to one. I probably would. Jackie would be happy I was at least getting along with him.

  I giggled. Jackie and Pepper. The fiasco at Carol’s house today was too funny. I’d have to tell Stewie about it while we golfed.

  My mind ticked off the information we learned from Carol today. One, she confirmed Ruby was Paula Radford. Two, Paula definitely worked for Telcor. Three, what was three? Were there really only two solid bits of information?

  I grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down the two items. There had to be more. I wasn’t going to make a good investigator if I couldn’t remember the information I gathered. I rummaged through my desk to find a small notebook and shoved it into my purse. I would be better prepared next time.

  I concentrated and played the conversation with Carol over again in my mind. Ahh, now I remember, Paula was fired. And she lived at the corner of Elm and Second. The house was an odd color. What was it? Green with purple trim. No, that wasn’t right. Purple with some shade of blue trim. I wrote it down. When I gave all of this information to Sergeant Rorski on Monday, they would likely be all over her apartment and find information linking her to Terry Cord. The case would break open.

  I felt a bit smug.

  The office was quiet again. Stewie was no longer on the telephone. I heard his chair bang against his desk and the copier start to run. It had a squeak I had never noticed before. I was going to make a joke about him needing some oil, but a slight shiver ran down my spine. I had heard the noise before, and it wasn’t in the office. It was on my red phone Thursday morning when I stayed home from work. It was in the background on the hang up call. Was that Stewie? On my red phone? My stomach flopped over, and I felt sick. Was he the heavy breather?

  The notes about Paula were still in front of me on my desk, and I realized there was more information to add. Stewie knew Paula and lied to me about it. Did he know something about Paula’s murder?

  “Ready? I have everything now.”

  He was watching from his office doorway. I quickly folded the paper and shoved it into my purse. I tried to act natural, but my instincts were telling me Stewie was not to be trusted.

  “I’m ready,” I said and tried to smile.

  He switched off the lights and locked the door behind us as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. It wasn’t quite dusk, and a warm summer breeze was gently blowing. It was a perfect night for an outdoor date, but I didn’t want to go forward until I confronted him about the telephone call and Paula.

  “When did your copier start squeaking?”

  He let out a chuckle, but it seemed more like a nervous laugh. “A little over a week ago. I called a repairman, but he hasn’t shown up yet. Did it bother you? Set your teeth on edge like fingernails on a chalkboard?”

  It was my turn to laugh nervously. “No, but I’ve heard that squeak before, and it wasn’t in the office.”

  He frowned. I took a step back and looked around to see if there was a police officer in the area. What if I had crossed a line and angered him?

  “All right, Jo. It was me. But you can’t blame a guy for getting nervous.”

  I was surprised he admitted it so quickly. “You called my house phone?”

  He nodded his head and looked sheepish. “I did, but when you answered it with something about sisters and a journalist, I got nervous and hung up. I forgot the copier was running at the time.”

  “How did you get the number? Only Jackie and Pepper have it, and they’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

  “I dialed information.”

  I was flabbergasted. It never occurred to me my super secret telephone number might be in the 411 directory.

  “How many times did you call?” I asked.

  “Just Thursday morning. You called off sick, and I thought I’d call to see how you were feeling and ask you where you wanted to go on our date. You didn’t sound sick when I called, and it felt so high school to even call like that, so I hung up the phone. I’m sorry.”

  “Did you call last Monday night?”

  He shook his head no.

  “Call and breathe heavy into the phone?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “No way. I’ve never breathed heavy into any phone ever, and I haven’t pranked anyone on the phone since I was a kid. Is your refrigerato
r running? Do you have Prince Albert in a can?”

  He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself, and I found myself laughing with him. The mystery of the phone calls was solved. If my number was listed, the heavy breather could have been anyone and was likely someone who punched a random number to begin with.

  My imagination was too vivid. A good private investigator dealt with facts. I still wanted to ask him about Paula, but that could wait until after we golfed.

  ~ ~ ~

  Stewie leaned his head out the car window and yelled, “Two chocolate milkshakes with whipped cream and cherries.”

  He had never been to Chummy Burgers and More. If he liked practical jokes, he would love the drive thru at Chummy’s.

  “How long have you lived in Buxley?” I asked.

  “I’m originally from Chicago, but I moved here for my job eight months ago.”

  I scrunched up my face. “From Chicago to small town Ohio? That doesn’t exactly sound like a move up.”

  “Don’t tell the boss, but I’m looking into some other opportunities.”

  “Like starting your own appraisal business?”

  Before he could answer, the Chummy employee handed two cups out the window. He pulled forward and parked in a parking spot. Both cups were hot black coffee. One had a cherry floating in it and the other had rapidly melting whipped cream.

  Stewie wasn’t amused. “What the -?”

  My laughter was probably over the top, but I found his reaction to the coffee wonderfully funny.

  “I’ll take the one with the whipped cream,” I said.

  He smiled, but I could tell he was irritated. Was he irritated at Chummy’s or at me?

  “How did you know about my appraisal business?” he asked.

  “Stewie, we need to talk. When we were in the break room the other day, you said you had never seen the dead girl from the construction site before.”