by Joyce Tremel
I was surprised to see the voice mail notification on my phone. I hadn’t heard it ring, but then again my purse had been inside the house all day. The message was from Doodle. “I’m sorry I missed you earlier. It’s a long story and I still want to talk to you. There’s a hall where we practice sometimes down on the North Side. If you can get away, I’ll be there tomorrow night at eight.” He left directions to the rehearsal hall. I called back and left a message that I would see him then. Maybe now I’d finally find out what he wanted to tell me.
CHAPTER FOUR
When I went next door to Cupcakes N’at on Monday morning, Mary Louise was manning the counter by herself. There was a line of customers halfway to the door, but she was very efficient and kept them moving. It wasn’t long before it was my turn.
“Where’s Candy?” I asked after we’d exchanged greetings and I ordered a cinnamon raisin bagel.
“She took the day off,” she said. “Can you believe it?”
I didn’t remember Candy ever taking a day off. “Is she sick?”
Mary Louise shook her head. “She said she just had some things to take care of today. She was here most of the night baking and she left right after I got in at six.”
I wondered if it had something to do with the phone call she received yesterday when we were at Doodle’s house. “She didn’t tell you what she had to do?”
“No, and I didn’t ask. She caught me by surprise—especially since today is a holiday. It must be something pretty important for her to leave the bakery in anyone else’s hands.” She smiled. “I’m flattered that she thought I could handle it.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” I took the bakery bag she passed to me and paid her for the bagel. “You know what you’re doing and Candy realizes that.”
“I appreciate that,” she said. “Maybe now she’ll take a day for herself a little more often. It would do her good.”
I told Mary Louise to call the brew house if she needed anything. I didn’t think she would, though. Candy had left the bakery in very capable hands for the day.
I headed across the street to Jump, Jive & Java for an iced mocha. It looked as if all of Lawrenceville had the same idea. Kristie and two other baristas worked feverishly behind the counter serving up everyone’s favorites. Most customers were taking theirs to go, so when I finally got my mocha, I took it to my favorite table beside the Casablanca poster, where I sat and listened to some guy singing about accentuating the positive. I was almost finished with my bagel and drink before it slowed down enough for Kristie to join me.
“Whew,” she said, plopping down into the chair across from me. “I didn’t expect it to be this busy on Labor Day. Isn’t everyone supposed to be going to picnics?”
“I guess they had to get their caffeine first.”
“Apparently.” Kristie took a long drink of her iced green tea. “Did you see that Candy took the day off? I went over earlier before it got busy here and Mary Louise said she wouldn’t be in.” She shook her head. “Frankly, it’s about time she did that. I sure don’t plan on working seven days a week when I’m her age.”
I shrugged. “I can’t imagine ever retiring. If it’s something you love to do, why not keep doing it?”
“True. Which means I’ll be lying on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean when I hit retirement age.”
“With anyone in particular?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Kristie grinned. “My love life is none of your business, and if I recall correctly, you told me the same thing more than once when I tried to find out what was going on between you and Jake.”
“Touché.” I drained my mocha and tried again. “Is it someone I know?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Kristie finished her drink and stood. Customers were lining up again.
“Not even a hint?”
She shook her head.
“A tiny one?”
“Forget it.” Kristie laughed and headed back to the counter. “Besides, I kind of like keeping you in suspense.”
I had to get back to work, too, so I said good-bye and crossed the street to the brew house.
• • •
I wasn’t brewing today, so after I checked the tanks and did some cleaning up, I went back to my office. I worked on the payroll and the server schedule. Ordinarily, I’d make calls to suppliers on a Monday, but because of the holiday, that task would have to be postponed until tomorrow. After a while, my mind wandered to the upcoming meeting with Doodle, and that made me think about Candy. She had promised to tell me why she’d been at his house, but so far I hadn’t heard a word from her. I had hoped to see her this morning and get some kind of explanation before tonight. Her taking the day off nixed that. Or maybe not.
I picked up the phone and pressed her number on my speed dial. I almost hung up when I got her voice mail then decided to leave a message. I told her I was meeting Doodle tonight but didn’t give any details. Now she’d have to call me back if she wanted to know more.
The day passed quickly even though we weren’t extremely busy. There was a steady flow of customers for growler refills, and some even bought extras of the half-gallon jugs to be sure they had enough beer for their Labor Day picnics. The restaurant also kept up a steady pace although there were a few empty tables throughout the afternoon.
I still hadn’t heard from Candy by the time Nicole came in to relieve me at six. Jake was leaving the kitchen in Jeannie’s capable hands since I’d talked him into coming with me to see Doodle. We had plenty of time before the meeting, so I headed home to feed Hops. Jake would pick me up there.
I had only walked two blocks when my phone buzzed. It was Candy. “I was wondering when you were going to call me back,” I said.
“I’ve been busy. I had a lot to do today,” she said. “I thought we’d settled this business of you meeting with Doodle.”
I didn’t know where she’d gotten that idea. This whole thing was far from settled. “He still wants to talk to me. Don’t you want to know what he has to say?”
“Yes, I do. That’s why I’m going to meet you there.”
“Why don’t you ride with Jake and me? Your place is on the way. It won’t be any trouble at all to pick you up.”
“Thanks, but I have a few more things to do. I’ll just meet you there.”
I had a sneaking suspicion she was planning to show up before we got there, just like she had on Sunday morning. I didn’t want a repeat of that. Doodle and I had agreed on eight o’clock, so I told Candy we were meeting him at eight fifteen. I reluctantly gave her the address and said we’d see her there. I pocketed my phone and walked the remaining few blocks home.
After I fed Hops and changed clothes, the kitten seemed to know I was going out again. She jumped and attached herself by her claws to the khaki shorts I’d changed into. I carefully peeled her off and placed her on her favorite blanket on the sofa. “Sorry, kitty. But I won’t be long.”
She gave me her version of the evil eye. She didn’t believe me.
Feeling guilty, I grabbed her treats from the kitchen counter and put a few on her blanket. “I’ll give you more when I get back.”
She gobbled them up, circled twice, and settled down. I scratched the top of her head and went out to meet Jake.
• • •
The rehearsal hall was in a partially renovated building on the North Side’s East Ohio Street. This area had once been thriving and had gone through a major downturn over the years but now seemed to be on its way back up. East Ohio Street was lined with an eclectic mix of mom-and-pop shops and bars, a restaurant or two, a pawn shop, and a photography museum. There was a major hospital only a block away, and the street was within walking distance to the North Shore area and Heinz Field, where the Steelers played football, and PNC Park, the home of the Pirates. My good friend, Dave Shipley, had a brewpub nearby. I hadn’t talked to him lately
and realized I should give him a call before the next brewer’s association meeting at the end of the month. Dave had been a big help when Jake and I were trying to figure out who killed the nasty food critic Reginald Mobley.
Jake parked his truck in a small lot on a side street and we walked the three blocks to the address Doodle had given me. The building looked like it had originally been a bank or something equally impressive. It was three stories tall and built of massive granite blocks. Large windows were almost a full story tall. The modern door made of glass and stainless steel didn’t fit the building and I wondered what the original had looked like. A heavy mahogany door would be my guess.
It was a quarter to eight and Candy hadn’t arrived yet so we waited on the sidewalk in front of the building. When she rounded the corner five minutes later, I caught a flash of surprise on her face. I was right—she had planned on getting here first.
“How was your day off?” I asked.
“Busy,” she said. “I ran a few errands, things like that. Mary Louise handled everything at the bakery just fine.”
Jake said, “You should do that more often. It’ll do you good.”
“What will do me good is to go inside and find out what this Doodle person has to say.” She reached for the door.
Jake and I exchanged looks. It wasn’t like Candy to be short like that. Especially to Jake. I put my hand on the door. “Wait.”
“Why?” she said. “We’re not that early.”
“That’s not it.” I searched for the right words. “You haven’t been yourself since Friday night at the fire hall when Felix Holt thought he recognized you. Then there was yesterday morning at Doodle’s house. I’d like to know what’s going on with you.”
Jake squeezed her shoulder. “We’re your friends. You shouldn’t hesitate to tell us anything.”
Candy looked at me, then Jake, then back at me and sighed. “You’re right. After we talk to this Doodle character, we’ll go someplace and I’ll tell you what I can.”
Jake opened and held the door that Doodle had said he’d leave unlocked. The lobby of the building had been gutted and the walls partially reconstructed. Drop cloths covered sections of the marble floor, and the rest was covered with dust from workers hanging and sanding the drywall. Doodle had told me the rehearsal space was on the second floor so we headed toward a staircase on the far side of the building. Although Doodle hadn’t said any of the other band members would be here, I half expected to hear music. Instead it was eerily quiet.
The stairs were of the same marble as the floor and my sneakers made little squeaky noises as we went up. The hallway on the second floor looked like something out of an old movie. The oak doors that lined the corridor had large frosted glass windows with numbers painted on them. Some had names on them. I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if one had been lettered Sam Spade, Private Eye. “This is so cool,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” Candy asked.
“I don’t know. It’s just so quiet in here.”
“I doubt that it’s very quiet once that band starts up,” Jake said. “This is really a weird place for a rehearsal hall.”
“Maybe it’s only temporary,” I said. “Once the renovation is done, I imagine they’ll try and fill all these offices. A rehearsal hall doesn’t really fit. Can you imagine trying to work in an office with someone playing a sousaphone down the hall?”
“Or even worse,” Jake said. “How about a heavy metal band?”
Candy said, “They might be able to soundproof it.”
“Good point,” Jake said.
“Would they want to go to that expense, though?” I said. “I’d think the owner would make a bigger profit leasing office space. Most bands probably couldn’t afford the monthly rent.”
By this time we’d reached the end of the hall. Doodle had said it was the last door on the left. The oak door had the same kind of glass as the others and had the number 212 painted on it. Jake turned the knob and pushed it open.
The room was much bigger than I’d expected. Half the room was open space with a dozen or so metal folding chairs scattered about. The other half was divided by partition-type walls as if it had been an office not too long ago. Nothing here had been renovated yet. The plaster walls were cracked and there were spots where the plaster had completely fallen off the wall. There was still gridwork for a suspended ceiling hanging above but all the panels were missing. Bare lightbulbs hung from the original high ceiling. I didn’t see any musical instruments anywhere, but I guessed no one would want to leave them lying around. I didn’t see Doodle anywhere, either.
“Doodle?” I called. He didn’t answer. The three of us crossed the scuffed wooden floor toward the partitions.
“I don’t think he’s here,” Jake said.
“Maybe he’s just late.” I hoped he hadn’t stood me up again.
“Then why was the door unlocked?” Candy said.
We started looking behind partitions. Other than more folding chairs and a couple of music stands, they were empty. Candy was a little ahead of us, and when she reached the last cubicle, she stopped. “Oh no.”
“What is it?” I asked.
She put her hand up. “Stay there, Max.”
It was too late. I had already reached her, and Jake was only a step behind me. I stopped beside Candy in the doorway. It looked like we’d found Doodle.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sheet music was scattered across the floor, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Doodle was lying among it, with most of his head stuffed into his sousaphone. Candy leaned down and felt his neck for a pulse. She straightened and shook her head. An image of my friend Kurt flashed in my mind, and the dinner I’d eaten before I left the brew house threatened to come up. I turned away and took a deep breath.
Jake already had his phone out and I heard him talking to the 911 operator. When he finished, he put his arm around me. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. Let’s wait out in the hallway.”
I leaned into Jake for comfort. “I can’t believe it. Poor Doodle.” It wasn’t right for anyone to end up like that.
Candy paced back and forth. “I should have known something like this would happen.”
“How could you?” I said. “You didn’t even know the man.”
She seemed more agitated than upset. “No, but—” She was interrupted by the sound of pounding footsteps on the stairs.
Two uniformed officers appeared and one stayed in the hallway with us while the other one entered the room and made sure Doodle Dowdy had truly departed this earth. The next hour was a blur of activity. We were made to wait downstairs while more police and crime scene techs and detectives arrived.
The three of us were separated to get our statements. I was thankful that it was my dad’s day off. I didn’t want to have to deal with Dad or his partner, Vincent Falk, at the moment. The detective who caught the call was Mitch Raines. He was a good friend of my dad’s so I was sure Dad would get the full account anyway. Mitch’s partner took Candy aside and another detective took Jake.
I got Mitch, who joined me on the stairs. He dusted off the step with his hand before sitting beside me. I wasn’t sure why he bothered cleaning it off. Considering how he was dressed, it was kind of pointless. He wore old ratty jeans and was unshaven. Either he was working undercover on something or he’d just rolled out of bed. He was one of the detectives on the Allegheny County District Attorney’s Drug Task Force, so it could be either one of those or a combination of both.
“Was the victim a friend of yours?” he asked.
“No, I barely knew him.” My voice was shaky. I’d seen more than my share of dead bodies over the last six months. You’d think I’d have gotten used to it, but I hadn’t. The realization that Doodle had been murdered was shockingly real.
Mitch squeezed my arm. “Take your time. Just tell me wha
t happened.”
I told him about hiring the band for Oktoberfest and how Doodle had called me and said he had something to tell me. I told him about going to Doodle’s house on Sunday and how he hadn’t shown up. I didn’t mention that I’d found Candy there. I knew I should tell him, but I didn’t want to get her in trouble. I’d leave it up to her to fill them in on that score.
“Do you know what Doodle . . . That’s an odd name, isn’t it?”
“His real name was Walter,” I said. “But the other band members called him Doodle. He even referred to himself by that nickname.”
Mitch nodded. “Do you know what he wanted to tell you?”
I shook my head. “Not really. I thought it was because one of the other band members seemed interested in Candy over there.” I pointed across the room. “I figured we could fix them up.”
Mitch smiled. “Playing matchmaker?”
“Sort of. She’s always trying to fix everyone else up so it would have served her right.”
“What made you think that’s why the deceased wanted to see you?”
“It’s the only thing I could think of. Doodle mentioned that he wanted to talk to me about what happened on Friday night. You see, when we went to see the band on Friday night, the accordion player kept trying to talk to Candy, saying he knew her from somewhere.”
“One of the oldest lines in the book,” Mitch said.
“That’s what Jake said, too. And when Doodle told me he wanted to talk to me, fixing them up was the first thing that came to mind. As a matter of fact, it was the only thing that came to mind. I can’t imagine what else he could have wanted to tell me.”
“Maybe he was interested in you,” Mitch said. “And the friend thing was just a reason to see you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. He never gave me that impression.”
“You mentioned that the victim belonged to a band. Can you give me the names of the other band members?”
“Sure. Felix Holt—he’s the one who was talking to Candy—Manny Levin, and Bruce Hoffman. I have their information if you want it.” I took my phone from my pocket and pulled up a contact. “This is Bruce Hoffman’s number. He’s the one I talked to about hiring them.”
