by Lisa G Riley
“Okay, good. What about the collective?” Lily asked cheerfully
“The what?”
“You know, the aunts.”
Glenda burst out laughing. “The aunts? You wouldn’t be referring to my sisters, would you?”
“Yes. That’s what we cousins call you guys: the aunts. But I think the collective works better, considering how you tell each everything about each others’ lives and then nobody makes a move about a problem until you’ve reached a consensus.”
“Now, Lily, you exaggerate. You know that isn’t true!”
“Yes, it is,” Lily said as she looked in the rearview mirror to check her makeup one last time. “You have no idea how difficult it was to try to gain sympathy after being unfairly punished by you for some inconsequential transgression.”
“Oh, stop,” Glenda said between her chuckles.
“What about the beauty parlor?” Lily asked after her mother had stopped laughing. In Sheffield-Chatham, the beauty parlors were only a few of several hot spots for gossip.
“What about it?”
“Do you have an appointment coming up soon? You might be able to find out something there.”
“My appointment isn’t until Thursday, but I’ll do what I can until then. What is it exactly you’re looking for, Lily?”
“Anything, Mom,” Lily said as she swiped a finger under her bottom lip to get rid of any stray lipstick. “I just want some background on those two. Who knows? Something that seems insignificant might turn out to help me.”
“All right. I expect a commission for all of this work, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“In the new year, I want you over for dinner at least twice a week. But anyway, I was calling because Mrs. Johnson called me. She said she saw you crawling in the snow along Route 22.”
Lily sighed. “What is wrong with that woman? And why is it that she’s the one who always sees me doing something out of the ordinary?”
“So you were crawling?” Glenda sounded appalled.
“Of course not, Mom. I might have crouched down a couple of times to take a look at something. And before you ask, I was out there working the case. I was trying to see if there had been an accident recently.”
“Oh, that is smart. What a good idea!”
Lily made a face. Her mother sounded exactly as she had when she’d praise Lily for some little bit of foolishness when she was a child. “Gee, thanks, Mom. I do try. We detectives are always having ideas.”
“No need for the sarcasm. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I always let Cora get me all het up.”
“Neither do I. It’s a mystery of the ages.”
Glenda laughed again. “All right, now, Lily. That’s the last one you’re going to get, and that’s only because I fell for Mrs. Johnson’s lie again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lily turned her head to look at the building. The Businessman’s Social Club was an ugly squat little rust colored edifice. It stood alone and totally out of place between two modern high rises. “Is that all, Mom? I’ve got to get back to work.”
“You’ll be careful, won’t you?”
“As I can be,” Lily promised before hanging up. She hadn’t told her parents all of the details of her case; just the parts she knew would soon be common knowledge, if they weren’t already. Grabbing her purse, she stepped out of the car and shut and locked the door behind her. As she approached the building, she noticed little accoutrements here and there. The door was solid oak and was carved with hunting scenes. The shrubbery flanking either side of the door was neat and orderly and the poinsettias that were in the windowsills flowered prettily. “Gorgeous,” Lily murmured as she looked at the blooms. Whoever had decorated had gone with not only red blooms, but white and pink ones as well.
The walkway leading to the door was carpeted with a deep green rug and she felt the lushness of it as she made her way to the door. She was sure that the heavy marker, which was in the shape of a lion’s head, was made of brass. She picked it up, literally sticking her hand into the mouth of the lion, and used it twice, but then rang the bell that sat discreetly to the side of the door. As she waited, she looked up and noticed that etched into the stained glass above the doors was a crest with a male lion standing proudly with its paw on the bleeding neck of a gazelle. There was a phrase in Latin, which she didn’t understand. She tried to commit it to memory, but then the door was pulled open.
“Yes,” the man intoned in a sonorous voice that seemed to come from deep within. Lily shivered. Her greeter was at least six feet five, had a bald head and an almost cadaverous frame. His face was sunken with deep set brown eyes and a beak of a nose. He wore a black tuxedo with a bow tie. He reminded her of a classic television show character, and she expected to hear the words, “You rang?”
Lily tried not to react to his appearance and shot her eyes to the side for a moment. “Uh, hi. I’d like to see the manager. I’m Lily Carstairs. I believe he’s expecting me.”
“This belief you have, madam,” the man began slowly and with a false hesitancy, “is it based in fact, or is it mere hopeful thinking?”
“I beg your pardon?” Lily asked stiffly, feeling insulted.
The man sighed, showing impatience. “Please inform me of your raison d’être, madam. In other words, your reason for being here.”
Lily sniffed, thinking that if he was going to be all snooty and pissy about it, she could forget the manners her mama taught her, too. “Piss off, Lurch and go get Mr. Andre Winscoff, with whom I have a three o’clock appointment.” In case he got the idea to shut the door in her face, Lily stepped inside, surprising the man even more. She’d already made his mouth drop open with her earlier statement. She sidled past him and turned back. “And just so you’re clear, my reason for being here is none of your concern, but my raison d être? My reason for simply being?” she asked in a cheery voice with a great big smile. “Why, it’s to bring joy and sunshine to all I encounter. What the hell else?”
He stepped towards her with an outstretched hand and she said, “Lay just one of those paws on me, and neither one of us will be happy.”
The man hesitated for a moment, but then reached for her again. Lily whipped out her phone to wiggle in front of him. “Ah-ah-ah,” she admonished. “I’ve got the assistant chief on police on speed dial, and I’ll be screaming all the while.”
They hadn’t drawn much attention yet, but Lily was aware of some slight stirrings of interest from a few men seated across the expansive Persian-rugged room in front of a roaring fireplace.
“What is the meaning of this, Templeton? What is going on here?”
A small Caucasian man with bowed legs and a neat little mustache was rushing towards them and Lily smiled, assuming this was the man she’d come to see.
“This female, sir,” Templeton gestured to Lily, “has barged in here, and now refuses to leave the premises. She has threatened to phone the police if I don’t allow her access to you.”
Lily didn’t have much time to ponder the distaste she heard in Templeton’s voice when he said the word ‘female’ before Mr. Winscoff was presenting her with a fierce scowl. “Just what is the meaning of your barging in here, young lady?”
Lily tried a friendly smile. “Hello, I’m Lily Carstairs. We have a three o’clock meeting scheduled. I apologize for my rudeness to your man here, but I was just anxious to speak to you,” she finished amicably, knowing that she needed to treat him quite differently than she had Templeton.
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Winscoff said. He turned to Templeton. “Please go back to your duties, Templeton. I will escort Ms. Carstairs to my office.
Her gaze taking in the rich mahogany paneling and the rest of the ritzy décor of the club, Lily followed Winscoff up the spiral staircase that was on the left side of the room. He led her past several doors, and finally into an office. She sat in one of the leather chairs he offered her and waited for him to take his seat behind his desk. “Thank you for agreeing to
see me, Mr. Winscoff. As I told you on the telephone, I’m here on behalf of Mrs. Charles Landry.”
“Yes, I know, but as I told you on the telephone, I don’t have much to tell you, and what I do know might not be of much help to you.”
Lily had her pad in her hand and had flipped it open. “I’m sure whatever you have to say could potentially be helpful to my investigation. I want to cover all my bases and help to bring Mr. Landry home.”
“I understand. Ask your questions.”
Lily settled back in her chair and crossed her legs. “First, how well did you know Mr. Landry?”
“Only as well as one might expect, given the kind of relationship we have.”
“And what kind of relationship is that?”
Winscoff folded his hands on the desk. “I provided a service, he partook of that service. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“You’re talking about the club, correct?”
“Of course,” he snipped. “To what else would I be referring?”
Lily let that go and went on to her next question. “What can you tell me about his relationships with other members of the club?”
“As I told that other detective who was here hours ago, Mr. Landry, when he visited our club, generally kept company with two other gentlemen: Adam Ginsburg and Taylor Thompkins.”
Lily wrote their names down and tried not to look annoyed that she’d been beaten to a lead by the other detective. “And what can you tell me about his relationship with them?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
Lily looked up from her note taking. “Nothing? Really?” she asked. His expression was far too guileless for her peace of mind.
“Aside from the facts that they were all quite competitive when it came to their card games of choice and they often talked about their golf scores; there’s nothing more that I can tell you.”
Lily studied him. He met her stare and she knew that even if he did know something, she wouldn’t get it out of him. “Do you know if either man is here today?”
“Today is Monday, not Wednesday or Friday, so no, they are not, either of them, here.”
Lily frowned; his curious habit of using twenty words when five would do annoying her. “What are their telephone numbers, please?” She watched in fascination as his face once again went prudish on her. “Young lady, I will not share that kind of personal information with you, a stranger.”
“Of course you won’t,” she said sarcastically, “what on earth could I have been thinking?”
Winscoff kept his face perfectly bland. “I have no idea. Now, if you’re quite finished,” he said and stood. “I have work to do.”
“No, I’m not finished yet -- quite or otherwise. Anyway,” she said with a small smile. “I’m going to try to track monsieurs Ginsburg and Thompkins down, but in case I don’t, what time do they usually arrive on Wednesdays?”
“I am not privy to that information.”
Lily looked at his smirk and knew without a doubt that he was lying to her. “All right, then I guess I’ll guess show up here Wednesday morning. Early.”
“You may do so, young lady,” Winscoff said and she saw it in his eyes. She was about to be hugely disappointed. “But you will not find them here. It is my understanding that they have both taken a trip to New York. They are business partners, you see.”
Lily suppressed a growl, and the urge to somehow try to make his smirk disappear. “I see.”
He smiled fully now and she could tell he was ready to turn the knife with which he’d already stabbed her. “We provide our members with lockers here at the club – nothing fancy or private – just a temporary holding place for our gentlemen when they need it. Your Mr. Landry left a few things in his locker. It’s too bad I can’t give them to you. It’s unfortunate, but I have already given them to the first detective.”
Lily just stared at him. Finally she asked, “Is it because I’m a woman or because I caused a slight commotion when I first arrived?”
His smile was gleeful now. “Both. The very idea of you, of any woman, is a commotion, a disruption. We do not allow women…”
At this point, Lily rose to leave.
Winscoff kept talking, “in the Businessman’s Social Club. It is simply not done. We do not even use them as maids or cooks. At least the last detective was male.”
Lily shook her head and reached for the doorknob. It seemed her mere presence was an affront to his dignity.
“Of course he had a fascinatingly horrible Texas twang, but again, at least he was male.”
This time Lily did groan aloud. She’d suspected that Smith was the other detective, but all day she’d been hoping against hope that she was wrong. “Shut up, Mick,” she muttered lowly as the lyrics to the rock star’s song sneaked into her head, reminding her that she couldn’t always get what she wanted. She made sure to slam the door on her way out.
Chapter Twelve
Christmas Eve, 1993
“Lily,” Smith said impatiently. “Aunt Glenda says you’ve got to come home, so come on!” He scowled when she just rolled her eyes at him and continued to whisper and giggle with her friends as they all snuck peeks at a group of boys who were a few feet away.
The town was experiencing unusually warm weather for Christmas Eve and everyone was out later than usual to enjoy it while they could.
“Catch a Girl, Kiss a Girl! One…two…three…Go!” Smith heard Jimmy Rhinehardt say, and suddenly Lily and her friends scattered like a herd of sheep when it was time to be corralled. He groaned and then narrowed his eyes when he saw Jimmy break away from the pack of boys to go after Lily.
Smith ran, his long legs catching up to Jimmy pretty quickly. He grabbed his arm. “Don’t even try what you’re thinking,” he said in a low threatening voice to the other boy. Jimmy seemed to recognize the threat, because he held up his hands and retreated to chase after Jenny Packard.
Smith spotted Lily and went after her. Taking her arm once he’d caught up to her, he turned her around to face him.
Surprise when she saw him cut Lily’s excited, but nervous-sounding giggles off mid-stream. He felt her freeze, watched her swallow and was surprised when she said, “I’m not going home until I get my first kiss. And if you try to make me Smith Cameron, I will make your life miserable for the entire vacation.”
He sighed. “You’d do it, too,” he muttered angrily. “All right, you want a kiss, you got it.” And before she could voice an objection, he lowered his mouth to hers. He didn’t kiss her the way he’d learned to kiss from his ex-girlfriend because he didn’t want to scare her. Softly, he pressed his lips to hers and then slowly pulled away. He did that several times, his lips lingering a bit longer each time. She stood there, frozen, but he’d taken her wrists in his hands when he’d first caught her and now he felt her pulse practically running away with itself. Since she seemed unable to move, he angled his head and drank some more from her mouth. Finally the renewed sounds of loud giggling brought him back to himself and he pulled back. He felt her sigh shudder across his lips and looked at her.
Eyes wide, she stared back at him, looking at him as if she’d had a sudden realization. She licked her lips. He cleared his throat, whispered, “Sweet. So hard to believe that such sweetness could come from the mouth of a brat. Now come on, sweetness,” he demanded with as much sarcasm as he could muster as he transferred his hold from her wrist to her hand. “I’m taking you home.”
For the first time ever in his memory, Lily meekly did what he told her to do.
As Lily was following Winscoff up the stairs of the Businessman’s Social Club, Smith was folding his long length into her cousin John’s single visitor’s chair at the police station. “I appreciate this, John. You could really help me out on this case.”
John grimaced. “We’ll have to see about that. I don’t know exactly how much help I can be with this.”
“Meaning…?”
“Meaning I got diddly squat on the man. According to his wife,
he has no enemies in his personal life and he’s the company buffoon, so he’s no threat to anyone there as far as I can tell. The man is just gone. Officially, the department is chalking this disappearance up to a man leaving his wife.”
“And unofficially?”
John looked hard at him. “There is no ‘unofficially’, Toast. The man is just gone.”
“Well, I’m bound and determined to find him, whether he left of his own free will or not. And there’s a ten thousand dollar bonus in it for me when I find him before Christmas.”
John nodded his head. “Yeah, I heard about that. I also heard you’ve got yourself a little competition out there,” he said with a smirk.
Smith grinned, making little lines fan out from his eyes and wrinkle in his scar. “Yeah, Lily-bud’s on the case. It wasn’t hard to figure out we were working the same case after talking to Aunt Glenda.” He leaned back in his chair, stretched out his legs and folded his hands on his stomach. “I can’t wait to see what the neophyte detective can do.”
“You’re not mad or worried?”
“Nope. Why would I be either of those things? Don’t get me wrong; I was mad at first when I realized my client was pitting me against another detective, but I would have been mad had it been anyone, not just Lily. Then I realized the fact that it’s Lily makes things all the better for me. I probably don’t have anything to worry about. She’s too new at this.”
John arched a brow. “Aren’t you the one who just the other day warned me about underestimating her?”
“Yes, but you underestimate her based on misconceived notions and moronic chauvinism.” He caught the balled up paper John threw at him without missing a beat. “I, on the other hand, am basing my knowledge on pure fact. Lily is inexperienced; there’s no getting around it.”
“Whatever you say. I just don’t want her hurt. Maybe I should block her when she comes in to see me, you know, keep the little bit of information I do have from her.”
