“When’s the last time you saw Maureen, Jack?”
Jack chewed his lip. “A couple of weeks ago. The last time we spoke on the telephone was last Monday night.” His chest heaved, and he inhaled sharply, before covering his face with his hands. “Sorry, I…”
“Whenever you’re ready, Jack. Take your time.”
When Jack raised his head again, his eyes were wet with tears. “She told me she didn’t want to see me anymore. Said she was getting back together with her ex-husband. I’m ashamed to say it, but I didn’t react very well.”
“Go on.”
“My first thought was I could win her back. I arrived in Seattle on Thursday and had arranged to stay at the company condo at the Waterfront Palace. I’d ordered champagne, flowers, the works. I know she said it was over, but I thought I could change her mind.” His tears were flowing freely now, and he wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand.
“What happened?”
“She wouldn’t take my calls. I left messages and went upstairs to her apartment. Nothing. She was either out or just wouldn’t answer the door. The next morning, I flew to Vancouver. I’ve been trying to get in touch with her ever since, but her phone’s going straight to the message service. Now I know why.”
Luke sensed there was something else Jack hadn’t told him. “You said you didn’t react well when she broke it off with you. What did you mean? Were you planning on doing something to Maureen if you couldn’t win her back?”
Jack’s face twisted. “She meant the world to me. I would never harm a hair on her head” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small box. “Look,” he said, placing it in Luke’s outstretched palm.
Luke opened the box. A shimmering diamond solitaire on a platinum band twinkled back at him. “I’m sorry,” he said, handing it back to Jack.
“It was her ex I was thinking of hurting,” Jack said. “Then I realized I couldn’t do it. If she loved him, doing that to him would hurt her too.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” Luke got up to leave. “Thanks for answering my questions. Are you going to be in Seattle for the next few days? I might need to talk to you again.”
Until Rob had verified Jack had taken the Air Alaska flights he had tickets for and had been in the Vancouver restaurant and hotel room on Friday night, he would reserve making a final judgment. But it was looking like Jack had a solid alibi.
“No problem,” Jack said, showing him to the door.
Luke’s mood was low when he left the hotel, thoughts of Megan swimming though his mind. He listened to the message that had come through on his phone earlier and sighed. It was from Briana. There was nothing from Al about how his visit with Angelo had gone.
Luke decided to call it a night. He switched off his phone and started walking back to his home which was less than a mile from the hotel.
CHAPTER 15
Mario was waiting for Al when he stepped out of the elevator the following morning. “Hey, Mario. I’m here to pick up the writing sample for Joe Li. Did you find one? Rob wants to get it to the handwriting expert as soon as possible.”
“Yes, come on and take a look,” Mario said, leading the way into the great room, where a pile of paperwork was stacked on the coffee table.
Kitten was there in her gym gear. “Hi, Al.”
Al grinned. “Yer’ lookin’ more like yerself’ today, Kitty. How’d it go with the cops yesterday?”
Kitten lifted her water bottle and took a sip. Her hair was pulled back off her face, which was makeup-free and colored only by her natural tan. She forced a smile. “As well as can be expected, I guess. Chief Hewson was considerate, but it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.” Kitten’s smile dissolved, and she struggled to hold back tears. “They said things about Maureen, that…weren’t very nice.”
Mario went over to comfort her. “That’s one way of putting it,” Mario said to Al. “I thought they were out of order. They were making it sound like Maureen was a pretty loose woman. It was very distressing for Kitten to hear that sort of talk about her sister.”
Kitten nodded. “Maureen wasn’t that sort of person at all. I think she craved attention after Mac left her, and she wasn’t very good at saying no to men who liked her. She was generous with her affections, but she never wanted to hurt anyone, or tell anyone something they didn’t want to hear. I imagine that’s how everything ended up in such a mess. Deep down, she was lonely and just wanted to be loved.”
“Don’t we all,” Al said, under his breath. “Don’t we all.”
He watched while Mario leaned towards Kitten to give her some quietly spoken words of encouragement and then he walked out onto the balcony to give them some privacy. Far below, the city had come to life, the start of the week welcoming the morning rush of commuters heading to their places of work.
“Kitten’s gone downstairs to the gym,” Mario said, when he came outside a short while later. “The sooner this nightmare is over for her, the better. Mac’s coming by later today to discuss the order of service and hymns for the funeral. I know that will set her off again.” He handed Al several pieces of paper. “Here’s the writing samples you wanted.”
Al leafed through the paperwork. There were several documents signed by Joe Li, as well as a longer handwritten memo. “Have you got a printer scanner here, so I can send these to my assistant, Rob?” he asked Mario, who nodded in the affirmative. “They’ll be better quality that way, instead of just sending photos.”
“Sure, let’s go to my office. Follow me.”
When they were inside his office and Mario was feeding the documents through the printer, Al spoke up. “What’s the story with Joe Li, and why would he send Maureen a threatenin’ note like this? Ya’ never told me the background. I’d like to hear it.”
Mario sighed. “Sure, but it might take a while.” He began to tap the email address Al gave him for Rob into the machine. “By the way,” he added, looking up at Al. “What happened when you went to see Angelo Conti yesterday?”
“There was no one in.” Al looked at his watch. “Ima thinkin’ now’s a good time to catch him. Tell ya’ what—why don’tcha come with me, and ya’ can tell me about Joe Li on the way?”
Mario hesitated. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. What if Angelo was the killer, and he tries to attack us?”
Al chuckled. “Don’t be such a yeller belly. Ya’ got Al with ya’, remember? If he tries somethin’, he’ll be sorry. And Kitten will think yer’ a hero if you help catch him.”
“Are you carrying a gun?”
Al rolled his eyes. “Is the Pope a Catholic? ‘Course I am, and I got a spare if ya’ want it.”
Mario’s expression relaxed. He inhaled, straightening up and puffing out his chest. “You’re on. Let’s do it.”
*****
When they were waiting for Angelo to answer the door, they talked about Joe Li.
“Ima thinkin’ Angelo’s gone away,” Al said, ringing the bell for the second time. “Don’t suppose you could get us in, Mario, could ya’? Maybe the concierge has a master key.” He eyed the door. “Or Kitten probably has a hair pin I could use to open it.”
“Breaking and entering is against the law, Al. You know that. I can’t be seen to be helping you do something like that.” Mario lowered his voice. “But if you want to go ahead, I won’t say anything.”
Al pressed his ear against the door. “Hang on, I’m sure I can hear someone in there.” He knocked on the door so hard it shook. “That should let Angelo know we mean business,” he said, clearing his throat.
The sound of footsteps inside the condo came closer, and a female voice spoke. “Who is there, please?”
“Who’s that?” Al growled back.
“This is Juana. Mr. Conti’s housekeeper.”
Al closed one eye and put the other up to the peephole. “It’s Al and Mario. Two old friends of Angelo’s from Chicago. Just payin’ a visit.” He turned to Mario and whispered. “I can’t see n
uthin’. She must be too small to reach the peephole.”
He heard the rattling sound of a chain being pulled across the other side of the door, then the door opened, and a petite woman dressed in black faced them.
“Mr. Conti is not home yet from the hospital,” she said in a timid voice. “He will be here later. I’m just getting everything ready.” She sniffed.
Al exchanged a look with Mario. “Hospital?” he said, turning back to Juana. “Is Angelo sick?”
She stared back at Al, her face crumpling. “No, not sick. Not anymore.”
Al waited for her to explain, sensing he’d said the wrong thing. When the woman swooned and began falling to the ground, he stepped in to catch her just in time.
“Get some water,” he ordered Mario. The frail woman was as light as a feather. Al carried her into the living room and gently laid her on the sofa.
“I have to get everything ready,” she protested. “For señor coming home.” Tears coursed down her wrinkled face. “It must be perfect.”
Mario arrived with a glass of water and handed it to Al.
“Here, take a sip of this.” Al held the glass to her lips. “You’ll be no help to Angelo when he gets back if yer’ sick, too.”
The woman stared at Al. “Mr. Conti is not sick, señor.” She paused. Mr. Conti is dead.”
Al stared at her in stunned silence, before crossing himself with his right hand. Mario did the same.
Juana reached out to Al, and he took her hand in his. “I am so sad, señor. I will miss him too. He would be so happy to know his two friends from Chicago came to pay their respects.”
“Er, yeah,” Al said, helping Juana sit up. “We’re sorry we didn’t make it sooner, aren’t we, Mario?”
Mario nodded. He cleared his throat. “What happened to Angelo, Juana? We didn’t know he’d been ill.”
Juana shook her head from side to side. “He didn’t do what the doctor said. I don’t think he cared. He wanted to die. He had nothing left to live for.”
“What do you mean, Juana?” Al sat on the couch beside her, and Mario took the armchair next to them.
“Heart attack,” Juana said. “Just like they warned him would happen if he didn’t change his diet. He never listened. All he wanted for dinner every night was steak. I tried, but he wouldn’t eat any of the healthy things I cooked for him.”
“It’s not your fault,” Al said, patting her hand. “When did this happen?”
“Thursday night,” Juana sobbed. “But I didn’t find him till Friday morning, when I came into work. He was still alive, and they took him straight to the hospital, but the damage was done. He had another heart attack on Saturday, and he died that night. Maybe if I’d found him earlier…”
Al removed a laundered white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Juana, who dabbed her eyes.
“If the docs done tol’ him to change his diet, then there was nothin’ else you coulda’ done, Juana. Please don’t blame yourself. Angelo wouldn’t want that, I’m sure of it.”
“He was in his favorite place when it happened,” Juana said. “That’s one small consolation. When the undertaker brings his remains home later, he will be laid out there for the wake. That’s why I want to get everything ready. Fresh flowers and nice new candles. Just how he liked it.”
“His favorite place?” Al’s eyes narrowed. “Where was that, Juana?”
“Miss Lola’s room,” she said with a faint smile. “Would you like to see it?”
Al gulped. He turned to Mario, whose face was white.
“Yes, please,” Al said quietly, helping Juana up.
They followed her down the hallway in silence.
CHAPTER 16
Luke was on his way to the address Rob had given him for Leslie Ramos, when Al called to tell him about Mario and his visit to Angelo Conti’s place.
“We can strike Angelo off the suspect list,” Al boomed into the phone. “He croaked a coupla’ days ago. He was in the hospital when Maureen was killed and died the day after. Natural causes, before ya’ ask.”
“That’s good news,” Luke said, parking his red Honda in the street. “That we can rule him out, I mean, it’s not good that he’s dead.”
“Yeah, not good fer poor ol’ Angelo,” Al said. “And the housekeeper was in bad shape. I hope some people turn up fer the wake this evenin’, or she’s gonna be upset. I might stop by later, after I’ve been to see Joe Li. Rob says the sample of his handwritin’ is a match for the note.”
“That’s nice of you.” Luke was staring at the outside of the apartment where Leslie lived. It was a seedy looking building in a bad part of town. A man drinking from a bottle in a brown paper bag was loitering in the doorway.
“I ain’t got no beef with Angelo,” Al continued. “We go way back, grew up in the same neighborhood in Chicago. That connection never goes away. Kinda’ feel like I oughta’ stick by him. Mario was freaked out, though, when we saw the weird room he had in his house.”
“What do you mean?”
A chill passed through Luke when Al described the room Angelo had kept as a shrine to Lola, his teenage love who had died many years earlier.
“It sounds like Angelo devoted his entire life to mourning her,” Luke said sadly, with a tightness in his chest.
“Yer’ right. Even after he retired, the housekeeper said he never went out socially. It’s not as if he was old, and he had plenty of money. He just preferred to sit there, in Lola’s room, every night. Luke, ya’ still there?”
Luke swallowed. “Yep. I’m about to go into Leslie’s place, so I’ll call you afterwards to let you know how it goes.”
When he’d ended the call, Luke stared out of the window. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks, and he made no attempt to wipe them away. He cried for Megan, and for himself. He cried for the life he would never lead if he ended up like Angelo, mourning his lost love until he died.
And when he was all cried out, he got out of the car, locked it, and found a coffee shop. He went to the men’s room and splashed his face with cold water. When he looked in the mirror, the eyes that stared back at him were brighter than they’d been for a while. He saw something in them that had been missing since Megan died. Hope.
He bought a coffee to go, enjoying the lightness in his step as he crossed the street to Leslie’s building.
“Excuse me,” he said, stepping over the man holding the brown paper bag concealing a bottle of booze. He’d slumped down in the doorway since Luke had been gone and was now blocking the entrance. The man uttered something Luke couldn’t make out, and Luke continued past him and started walking up the stairwell.
Leslie’s apartment was right outside the stairwell on the landing for the fourth story. The paint on the door was chipped and peeling, and its nailed-on number six had come loose and was hanging upside down so it looked like a nine.
“I’m looking for Leslie Ramos,” Luke said to the young woman who opened the door after he’d knocked. “Is she home?”
“Who wants to know?”
“My name is Luke Robertson.” He handed her his card. “I’m a private investigator, looking into the death of Maureen Knight.”
The woman read the business card and looked back up at him. “You look like a cop.”
Luke smiled. “Thanks. I used to be a cop, but I left the police force a while back. There’s a story there.”
“You’re cute. Leslie’s not home, but why don’t you come in and tell me about it?”
Luke followed her into the apartment. It was sparsely decorated, but clean and tidy. There was a small kitchen and dining area with an open door leading to a hallway. Laundry was drying on a rack by the window, and a bag of trash was tied up and waiting to be taken outside.
“I’m Cassidy, by the way,” the young woman said. She pointed to a worn couch with mismatched pillows. “You can sit there. Would you like some water, or a soda?”
Luke held up his coffee cup. “I’m good, thanks.”
&n
bsp; He sat down on the couch and Cassidy sat in a chair opposite him, her arms folded. Although she wasn’t exactly friendly, she wasn’t hostile towards him either. “Why did you leave the police force?”
“My fiancée was murdered,” he said without any trace of emotion. “I lost faith in the police’s ability to find her killer. The murderer was caught by the firm I work for now.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Cassidy said. “I’m not crazy about the cops either.”
“Why’s that?”
“They keep arresting me for shoplifting.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Just kidding. It was only once.”
Luke half-smiled. “Do you know when Leslie will be back? I was kind of hoping to speak to her as soon as possible.”
“You and me both. She hasn’t paid her share of the rent for this month, and the rest of us can’t afford to cover it. If she doesn’t show up soon, we’ll have to get a new roommate.”
“Who else lives here?” Luke figured the place was just about big enough for two. Any more people, and it would be like sardines in a can.
“Me, Leslie, and two other girlfriends.” Seeing the expression on Luke’s face, she added, “We take turns using the sofa bed you’re sitting on.”
Luke took out a notebook. “Cassidy, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
She shook her head. “No, if it helps you find Leslie so she can cough up her share of the rent, I’m happy to.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
Cassidy shrugged. “A few days ago. She hasn’t been home since before the weekend, I think. That’s not unusual, though.”
Luke scribbled in his notebook. “Why do you say that? Is she away a lot?”
“She stayed at her fiancée’s place most of the time before they broke up. You can hardly blame her.” Cassidy held out her arm and gestured around the room. “I mean, look at this place. Ever since then she’s been going out drinking a lot, hooking up with guys, and sleeping over. When she’s here, she eats someone else’s food and stays in bed most of the day. She’s not working, you see.”
Murder at the Waterfront: A Northwest Cozy Mystery (Northwest Cozy Mystery Series Book 7) Page 10
