by Libby Klein
“But you did threaten Mr. Brandt during that argument.”
Frank smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Now who would tell you a thing like that?”
“I’m afraid the walls are thin in that old building. There were lots of offices where people overheard your fight. You told Brody you would kill him if he ever touched Kylie again. True?”
Frank took another long drag of his cigarette. “It was a misunderstanding. And the same busybody that’s spreading rumors that I got into it with Brody should also be able to tell you that it was a one-time thing and happened ages ago. I had too much to drink, and I thought Kylie was cheating on me. She was always talking about this Brody guy she worked with, and his helping out a group of kids. I figured he was the guy. I’m not proud of it, but we worked it out.”
Frank threw his cigarette butt in the dirt and ground it with the toe of his boot. He stood to go. “If we’re done here.”
“One more thing, Mr. Trippett. It would really help me out to know where you were the night Brody was killed. In case the police ask me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Depends on when it happened.”
“Sometime between Monday night and early Tuesday morning.”
“I was in bed. With Kylie. And yes, she will confirm that. I strongly recommend that you quit your nosing around, lady. Bad things happen to people who ask too many questions.”
He strode back into the garage. He had a calm, relaxed manner, like someone who had nothing to hide. He was overconfident. But something about the way he carried himself set me on edge.
Chapter 29
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“I don’t want to have fun. I want to sit in this house and be miserable.”
“Aunt Ginny, Gia has invited us to come out for dinner. Don’t you want to get out for a bit?”
“No! I don’t want people seeing me and pointing there goes the lunatic who robbed the neighborhood.”
“No one is going to do that.”
Georgina bustled into the kitchen clutching a red toolbox. “Don’t be ridiculous, Poppy. I would do that. All my friends would do that.”
Aunt Ginny jabbed her thumb at Georgina. “See!”
I sent Georgina a look that was meant to shush her. “I’ve met your friends, Georgina, and they’re all stuck-up snobs.”
“That’s how I know they would point and gossip.” Georgina hid the toolbox in the refrigerator behind some bagged salads.
I ignored Crazy Number 2 and turned my attention back to Crazy Number 1. “Aunt Ginny, please come with me. He invited you personally.”
Georgina was suddenly in between us. “Who invited Ginny? Where are you going?”
Aunt Ginny fired on Georgina, “Poppy has a date tonight. With a good-looking man who wants to meet her family. What do you think of that?”
Georgina turned on me with hurt in her eyes. “Poppy, you promised. How could you?”
Before I could protest that I didn’t promise anything of the sort, Smitty stormed into the kitchen after Georgina. “Woman! Where is my toolbox?”
Georgina offered a prim look and a shrug. “Why, whatever toolbox do you mean?”
Smitty started yanking cabinets and rearranging coffee mugs and frying pans. “You know exactly what toolbox, you old bat! Now where did you hide it?”
“Really, Spotty, you need to take better care of your things. No wonder this house is falling down around us.”
Smitty turned purple and squirmy. “Falling down! Why you …”
Aunt Ginny took out her little yellow spray and gave herself a couple of squirts. “Let’s go now.”
*
Bella, come over to Momma’s dining room. G
Gia had scrawled a note and left it at the end of the counter, under the chocolate syrup, behind a bag of espresso beans. Or, as I rather suspected, he left it out in the open and Karla repositioned it after he was gone, just to mess with me. Thankfully, he answered his text when I showed up at the espresso bar and didn’t find him.
Aunt Ginny and I walked across the courtyard to the terra cotta dining room and waited for the hostess.
Aunt Ginny pointed to a table on the left side of the dining room by the window. “It was just a few weeks ago that we sat under the trailing ivy and planned our strategy to prove you didn’t kill the cheerleader.”
I looked down at her and smiled. “I remember.”
“Bella! You’re here.” Gia met us and enveloped first me, then Aunt Ginny, in hugs.
“Oh my, he’s strong.” Aunt Ginny whispered loud enough for the whole dining room to hear.
A hostess was led up to the podium by her lip piercing. She appeared at Gia’s side and put her hand on his back. “These must be your guests we’ve been waiting for, Gia. I’ll take you all to your table.”
She took Gia’s arm and led him back to the table where he had already been sitting. She held his chair out for him while she looked at him with puppy-dog eyes.
Gia came over first to Aunt Ginny and pulled out her chair, then did the same for me when she was seated.
Aunt Ginny whispered again. “He’s got a nice butt.”
I was mortified.
The hostess frowned, picked a chip off her blue nail polish, and tossed it on the floor. “Your waiter will be over in a minute.” She leisurely strolled back to her station by the front door.
“Well, she was a delight,” Aunt Ginny mused.
Gia put his hand on Aunt Ginny’s. “I’m so glad you’re here. You are very important to Poppy and she’s very important to me, so I want us to be friends.”
A shrill voice wafted through the room like an icepick in the brain.
“She wouldn’t!”
A pair of Jimmy Choos clackity-clacked their way to our table. “Poppy. There you are. In your haste you must have forgotten me.”
“Georgina, what are you doing here?”
Aunt Ginny rolled her eyes. “Did Smitty ever get his toolbox out of the fridge?”
Gia stood to welcome her.
Georgina ignored us both and took Gia’s hand in hers. “I’m Poppy’s mother-in-law. She was married for almost twenty years to my dear boy, John. He’s only recently passed, you know.”
I tried to disappear under the table, but Gia took it in stride. “I have heard so much about your late son. I’m sorry for your loss. Won’t you join us?”
Aunt Ginny and I said in unison, “No!”
Georgina smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.” She settled herself into Gia’s vacant chair, forcing him to sit across from me and between her and Aunt Ginny.
Georgina yelped, “Ow!” And glared at me.
Aunt Ginny muttered, “Oops. Restless legs syndrome.”
Gia rested his face on his fist to cover his amusement, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.
If he even wants to do business with me after this it will be a miracle.
Three waiters arrived in unison, grinning and jabbing Gia with elbows and eyebrows. They fought over who filled our water glasses and who fluffed our napkins. Gia muttered something in Italian and jerked his head to send them away. First one, then another, then the third brought us a basket of bread.
“I think you have a fan club here,” I said to Gia.
Momma poked her head out. “Basta!” She gave the waiters the evil eye and two of them scurried back to the kitchen. With a “Bah” and a wave of dismissal she waddled in after them.
“So, what’s good?” Georgina purred as if she were an invited guest.
“The calamari is perfetto. The man-ah-cott is one of Momma’s specialties, or the linguine with pruh-zhoot is mmph! All the pasta is handmade and wonderful.”
Okay, someone’s a momma’s boy.
Well, forget about ordering because food just started appearing from the kitchen. Bowl after bowl of pastas and casseroles and platters of meat smothered in sauces. Judging from the sounds of delight Gia was making, I suspected Momma was sending his favorite di
shes.
Gia called a waiter over. “Please ask Momma for some pasta, senza glutine with Bolognese.”
The waiter replied, “Senza glutin-ah?”
“Sì. Gluten-free.”
He shrugged and took off, only to return a couple minutes later. “Momma ask for who?”
Gia nodded in my direction. “For the lady.”
The waiter looked from me to Gia and an understanding passed between them. I believe it was similar to as if Momma needs another reason not to like her, but he returned to the kitchen anyway.
Georgina waved a piece of homemade bread in my face. “This may be the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Here, Poppy, you should try it. Oh, wait. Can you eat this on your diet?”
I took the bread basket from Georgina and moved it to the other side of the table.
Gia smiled sympathetically. “How did it go today?”
Georgina started, “Well, we got the hall bath re-caulked and another coat of paint on the porch swing. Oh, you mean Poppy. Sorry. I’m just so used to eating with my son and Poppy, where they ask me about my day. I guess I got confused.”
Aunt Ginny dropped her head in her hands and muttered, “And people say I’m the crazy one.”
Dear God, I’m pretty sure that being with Georgina is going to kill me. And if I’m going to die tonight, please give me a sign so I can eat this bread and some lasagna before I go.
“It went … different than I expected.”
“What happened?”
“For one thing, the charity people were both so nice and very helpful. It’s hard to imagine either one of them behind the murder. I don’t think the hospice board had a motive. They get plenty of money from insurance companies for the services they provide. They use grant money to help subsidize families who don’t have private coverage for end-of-life care.”
Aunt Ginny looked up from the plate of ravioli she was devouring. “You think a hospice would kill a rival charity owner in cold blood? Wouldn’t that be counterintuitive for them?”
Gia nodded. “I agree. How about the other one? The animal shelter.”
“Well, the director was very sweet. And I don’t see any way she would ever be a part of a devious act. Her little office was wall-to-wall kitten posters.”
Georgina patted her mouth with her napkin. “Cat people kill too, Poppy.”
I ignored her. One of our trio of waiters brought my gluten-free pasta out on a silver tray and set it down with a flourish.
“Fooor the laaadyyy.”
Gia shook his head and sighed. I thanked the waiter and went back to the day’s recap. “The most interesting thing I discovered was that Brody’s boss is on the board of directors for the animal shelter.”
“Which one?” Aunt Ginny asked as she dumped a bowl of Parmesan on her pasta.
“Ken Freeman.”
Georgina wound the pasta on her fork like it was trying to get away. “What are the odds that his boss would also be on the board of a charity?”
Gia handed Aunt Ginny the pepper grinder. “That seems too much of a coincidence to be ignored.”
“I agree. Also, I found out that the humanitarian award is the big honking heavy statue of an angel holding a star over its head, and every board member of the winning charity, including Ken Freeman last year, receives one.”
Aunt Ginny took a forkful of the gluten-free pasta from my plate. “I bet that could be used to shut someone’s lights off for good.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
Gia handed Aunt Ginny a bowl of sauce. “But what would be Freeman’s motive? The Teen Center already had the grant money. Would he kill just for vengeance?”
“The whole rival charity angle seems a bit janky to me. But, Ken Freeman did fire Brody for embezzlement the Friday before he was murdered. What if Brody really did steal that money? Maybe that was enough to send Ken over the edge to take revenge for both offenses. A sort of misguided righteous justice.”
Aunt Ginny took a forkful of manicotti off of Gia’s plate. “Like killing two birds with one humanitarian award.”
Gia’s eyes widened when he saw the fork coming, but he was so tickled watching Aunt Ginny that he pushed his plate closer to her so she could have easier access.
I mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
Gia grinned and gave me a wink.
Georgina started a choking fit that could only be quelled by one of our waiters pouring her another glass of wine.
Somewhere across the dining room, a couple tried desperately to get a waiter to come to their table to refill their water, but they were all hovering around our table trying to blend in and look like they were not eavesdropping.
I went on. “Brody’s secretary was adamant that there was no way he could have embezzled that money. She said it wasn’t in his character.”
Aunt Ginny peered at me over a forkful of Gia’s manicotti. “Didn’t Liz tell you he had come into money recently?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then where did the money come from?”
“She said he got it from investing. He did work for an investment firm, so that isn’t out of the question.”
“Do you have any other suspects other than his boss and the girl’s father?” Gia asked.
“There was an incident with Brody’s other coworker, Kylie. Apparently, she has a very jealous boyfriend who showed up at work one day accusing Brody and Kylie of having an affair. I went to his workplace to talk to him this afternoon.”
Gia ordered coffee for the table. “How’d that go?”
“He seemed charming, but with an undercurrent seething of hatred.”
Aunt Ginny reached across the table and popped a zeppole into her mouth.
“Thing is,” I said, “he says he was with Kylie all night and she’d back him up on that.”
Aunt Ginny rubbed her stomach. “You’re going to have to ask her.”
Georgina waved an Italian donut in my face. “Poppy, aren’t you having dessert? Dessert is your favorite.”
I mentally tried to set Georgina’s hair on fire. She saw my dark look and put the zeppole back on her plate.
For the rest of the evening we had coffee and spoke about the espresso bar, and the bed-and-breakfast. Momma came out to see how her baby was doing. She patted his stomach and said he didn’t eat enough. She watched me out of the corner of her eye and grunted. After kissing Gia’s face a few times, she went back to her kitchen.
We stood to go and our comedy of waiters arrived instantly from just around the corner to pull out the ladies’ chairs. There was lots of cheek kissing with Gia, and some kind of innuendo that made Gia blush and Georgina pout.
Gia gave me a chaste hug goodbye under Georgina’s watchful scowl.
“Wish me luck,” I told him. “I’m going to the boardwalk to talk to Erika tonight.”
Gia tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. “You’re smart, you don’t need luck. Tell me all about it in the morning.”
Georgina and Aunt Ginny piled into my car. I gave Georgina a questioning look through the rearview mirror.
“What? I had the little handyman drop me off earlier. You’re my ride.”
If I took her out to a field somewhere and left her, I wonder if she could find her way back home.
Chapter 30
I needed to get Aunt Ginny and Georgina home, then get over to the boardwalk to Erika’s work before it closed, and I needed to do it without giving in to temptation and eating a plate of powdered sugar.
I can do this. I’m a grown woman. I’m eating healthy and taking care of myself. I’ve already had a splurge tonight with the gluten-free spaghetti—not exactly Paleo. I don’t need to be bossed around by funnel cake. Be strong, Poppy.
The Cape May boardwalk was more than two hundred years old. Stretching only two miles along Beach Avenue, it’s part weathered plank and part concrete. Officially called the Promenade, the younger generation called it the Boards.
The central point is Convention Hall, where we u
sed to roller-skate as kids and Erika’s dad played roller hockey. On either side are shops and arcades, the Fudge Kitchen and Morrow’s Nut House. Erika worked down by one of the arcades. Since we lived around the corner, I parked at home, saw Aunt Ginny and Georgina inside, then walked over.
It was a bright and cold night down by the water. The wind coming off the ocean sliced right through me and I wished I’d worn a heavier coat. A smattering of people were on the boardwalk, a couple of die-hard tourists who’d heard how quiet the Cape May off-season could be, some coast guard recruits out for a frigid run, and a few locals working part-time jobs, wishing they’d made better life choices.
The funnel-cake stand was much like a neon shed with a window. It was covered in cardboard cutouts listing jelly toppings and flavors of soft serve. I knocked on the sliding glass and a teenage girl with greasy hair and a lack of ambition considered whether or not to alight from her stool and approach. She finally put her cell phone down and opened the glass. The smell of fried dough and chocolate sauce stung my resolve to abstain.
“Yeah?”
“Are you Erika Lynch?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Poppy. Dani down at the Teen Center told me I could find you here. I hope that’s okay.”
She shrugged. “I got nothing to say.” She started to close the window.
“Please. I just need a little help to save an elderly woman.”
She considered me for a moment. “Save her from what?”
“She’s being wrongfully accused of a crime. I just need to ask you a couple of questions.”
“I can’t hold the window open during working hours unless you buy something. My boss is watching me on the nanny cam.” She rolled her eyes up to the corner above us.
“Are you sure I’d have to buy something? It’s almost closing time, isn’t it?”
She started to slide the window. “I’ve got the heater on.”
“Can I get a glass of water?”
“It has to cost money.”
“I don’t suppose you have anything gluten-free, do you?”
“Uhh …”
