The instant I said goodbye to Maggie Knight, I called Carol. As I waited for her to pick up the phone, I inventoried the pantry. I had everything I needed to fix Margaret Landry her favorite dish except for the fish. I knew exactly where I could get it on my way back home.
Should I take the morning off and forget going into my office at all? I wondered. A second later, I got my answer to that question.
“Georgie, I was just about to call you.” There was an intensity in Carol’s voice. Had the news been released about poor dead Charlie Daniels? That was fast.
“I take it you heard the news.”
“What news?”
“Charlie Daniels was killed last night. Murdered and his body left on the beach near Crystal Cove.”
“Yikes! I hadn’t heard, but maybe that’s why you have visitors who insisted on meeting with you first thing this morning. You haven’t left home yet, have you?”
“No.”
“Then hang up and get going. Connie Forsythe and her niece Emily Lombard are on their way. If you can get here before they do, I can explain why they asked for a meeting with you.”
“I’m heading for the door. The reason I called you is that I’ve got a visit planned for us with two more of the ‘other women’ in the maestro’s life. These are women from his more distant past—Maggie Knight and Margaret Landry. You need to arrange to have lunch with me today—here at my house. In fact, it’s best if you arrange the afternoon off for both of us.”
“Wow! Consider it done. This is going to be a very interesting day, isn’t it?”
“I hope so,” I replied. In a way that helps us catch a killer before someone else ends up like Dave or Charlie, I added silently.
18 An Unhappy Chorus
When I arrived at my office, Carol had coffee ready. I followed her into a small conference room behind the reception area. I’d brought a box of those cookies from home and she set out a few for our guests, who were due to arrive any minute. When she caught the scent of those cookies, the smile already on her face broadened.
“Ooh, cookies! Purrfect treats for your Cat Factory pals. You’re a super pawsome boss!”
Uh-oh, cat puns. Carol had obviously had a cup of the coffee she’d poured for me when I arrived. It was more than that, though. Rapid fire cat puns were a dead giveaway that Carol was wound up. She was buzzing after popping one of those sugary cookies into her mouth.
“Meow! Those will pawsitively cat-apult the conversation into high gear while they tell their tail of furtive encounters with that tomcat Dave Rollins.” My mouth fell open and I stood there for a few seconds.
“I have no words. That’s a lot of cat puns in one sentence even for you. What is going on?”
“I’m not playing a game of cat and mouse with you, boss. These two let the cat out of the bag…” I interrupted her before she could say more as I caught sight of Connie and Emily walking into the reception area. Connie waved, although the expression on her face was not a happy one. Carol turned and dashed out to greet them. I followed and the two of us escorted them into the conference room.
Once we settled in around the little table, Connie introduced us to her niece Emily. The lovely blonde with big blues eyes and an angelic face began to tear up immediately. Then tears slid down her cheek.
She’d make a great Arielle, I thought as the part of my brain saturated from decades of working for The Cat took over. In fact, she could play the role of any of the Marvelous Marley World shepherdesses, although I don’t believe Max Marley had a new feature film starring his beloved princess-like characters in the works any time soon.
As I watched her, she opened a small clutch purse she carried. At first, I figured she was pulling a tissue from it to sop up those tears. She didn’t stop, though, when Carol and Connie each offered her one. Snatching the tissues with one hand, the other dug around in her bag. When Emily pulled her hand out she clutched a diamond studded treble clef pin.
“Emily wants to explain. Don’t you Emily? We thought since you and the detective who’s been trying to reach Emily are close, you could help tell us the best way to approach him about this.” Emily nodded in agreement with her aunt but didn’t utter a word. Her pale skin was all splotchy.
“Did Dave Rollins give that to you?” I asked speaking softly.
“Yes,” she whispered in reply. Then in a louder voice she added, “The night someone killed him. I was there. I took it, but I didn’t kill him. I chickened out on our date and ran away—like Cinderella fleeing the ball.”
Carol looked sideways at me, not convinced. I wasn’t entirely convinced, either. At least not that she imagined that evening to have been a prince and Cinderella encounter. Her aunt rolled her eyes, so I could tell she didn’t buy it.
“Oh, stop with the fairytale nonsense and just tell the story as it actually happened. Cut the drama, too.” Emily screwed up her face, not like she was going to cry more, but in anger. The splotches on her face turned a deeper red.
“Back off Aunt Connie. Dave invited me over for a private celebration. I knew what he meant by that. He was no prince, but I liked the guy and it was kind of exciting, so I agreed.” She paused and sipped her coffee, looking less like a princess herself now.
“Did you leave the reception together?”
“Not exactly. Dave called a limo for me and went on home while I waited for the driver to pick me up. When I got to his house Dave let the limo in through the gate and met me at the front door. He gave the driver this huge tip—a hundred-dollar bill—and sent him away. The minute the door closed behind me, I started to feel uneasy like I’d made a mistake. Dave gave me a glass of champagne and this gorgeous red rose, but he must have been drinking at the gala because he was already tipsy. I started to worry that an old guy like him shouldn’t get any drunker than he was already. What if he fell down or something?” Connie cleared her throat. I took it she wasn’t any happier with Emily’s emerging Florence Nightingale routine than she had been about the Cinderella bit.
“What? He looked old and sick. What if more alcohol and er, um, romance wasn’t good for him? Anyway, after he showed me around a little I told him I wasn’t feeling well. He insisted that I go upstairs and see the view from the veranda before I left. It only took me thirty seconds after we walked through his office to the veranda to realize it adjoined his bedroom. When we were in his office, he showed me this.” She pointed to the pin.
“When I saw it, I decided I had to get out of there. There must have been half a dozen women at the gala wearing the same pin. I wondered about it. I should have asked Aunt Connie where she got it. She and her women friends may not mind being one of the maestro’s romance of the month club members, but not me.” Connie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, shook her head and then rolled her eyes again. In response Emily stuck her tongue out at her aunt like a spoiled child. My image of her as Arielle was gone for good now! The budding family feud was growing old fast. It was time to move the story along.
“Okay, so what did you do then?”
“I told Dave I was sorry, but I had a splitting headache and had to go home.”
“And?”
“Dave called the limo driver back. He gave me that pin and told me to go home. I felt sorry for him since he looked so sad, but I had to get out of there. I took the pin, gave him a hug, and then I ran down the stairs and out the front door. The limo driver must have been close because he was back inside the gate in, uh, like two minutes.”
Hmm, I wondered, making a note to ask Jack if anyone had checked with the limo service about a driver being at Dave’s house that night. Carol could do that or could at least find out which service we’d used that night to ferry VIP guests to and from the gala. Emily was silent but had started to weep again.
“What is it?” I asked. “Did something else happen?”
“No, not really. I can’t be sure I shut the front door when I left. I read in one of the news reports that the door was found unlatched. Did I do that? Is it my fault someone got
in and killed him?”
“No, I don’t believe you should be worried about that.” I didn’t say anything further. Jack wouldn’t approve of my giving her any information she didn’t already have about how Dave Rollins died or where they found his body. If she hadn’t shut the door securely when she left, it could explain how the vandal gained entry to destroy Dave’s house, especially if Dave had left the back gate open. It wasn’t her fault he’d been killed, though, given that his murder had taken place out on the cliff trail.
“That’s a huge relief. Later, when I heard Dave was dead, I wished I’d asked the security guard to check the door. He probably did that on his own anyway, right?” Alarm bells went off in my head. I tried to play it cool.
“Security guard?”
“Yes. A big guy wearing a baseball cap and carrying a huge flashlight. He had on a dark-colored uniform with a security guard sign on it.”
“Do you remember the company name on it?”
“No, not really. It was a black and gold and said security guard.”
“How big was he? Big as in tall or hefty?”
“Both. Over six feet tall, I’m sure, and beefy like a bouncer at a club.”
“Do you remember his hair or eye color or anything distinctive about his appearance?” Emily pondered my question before answering. I tried to recall what else Jack had asked Charlie Daniels when he tried to get him to describe the wolfman.
“The porchlight wasn’t very bright. His hair and eyes were dark. No wait, that’s not completely true. His head was covered with a hoodie attached to something he wore under that jacket. The hair poking out was a very light color. He scared me when he appeared out of nowhere, pointing that light at me. The light was so bright I had to shield my eyes. When he stepped closer to ask who I was and what I was doing there, he raised his arm. His sleeve pulled back and I saw a tattoo for a second when the limo pulled in and the headlights hit him.”
“What sort of tattoo?”
“A letter, like an initial. More than one, maybe. Anyway, the guard took off as soon as the limo pulled up—even before I could answer his questions.”
“Do you remember what letter you saw?”
“I’m not sure. It was drawn in an old-fashioned fancy way that made it hard to read. An “M” or “N” maybe. To be honest, it might not even be a letter from the alphabet. Is it important?”
“It could be. Do your best to remember what you can when you tell your story to the police. Why didn’t you call and tell them you were at Dave’s house that night?”
“I was embarrassed about the way I behaved—going there in the first place and then running off the way I did. When I heard he was dead under suspicious circumstances, I was scared. Dave was still alive when I left, but what if the police thought we fought it out that night and I killed him? Or they figured I vandalized his home or let someone in who did it? Maybe they’d blame me for leaving Dave’s door open on purpose, so someone could get in and kill him? It wouldn’t be great for my reputation if it gets out that I was the mystery woman at his home for a romantic interlude or whatever they’re calling it in the media coverage.” Emily unleashed that litany of excuses at breakneck speed. If she had more to say, Connie put an end to it.
“That’s enough!” Connie commanded, in such a loud voice I was startled. She was clearly more than a little miffed at her niece. “If they find out you were at the house that night, so what? You decided to go there for a romantic interlude, Cinderella. You decided to leave, taking that little diamond pin with you. At least you’re alive to feel embarrassed or scared or concerned about what will happen if the news gets out that you were with that old man, as you’ve called him, on the night he was murdered. Dave Rollins had his problems, but he didn’t deserve to die like that and you were one of the last people to see him alive!” Connie teared up at that point.
“Some of us members of the romance of the month club loved him even if he didn’t deserve it. Dave was chasing a dream—a romantic fantasy rather than a real woman. It hurt to be consigned to the unhappy chorus of women in the maestro’s life. Love’s hard to find and harder to hang onto, isn’t it?”
Connie looked at me and then at Carol as if wondering if we understood. I nodded. After my first love died, I gave up on the idea I’d ever find love again. Unlike Dave Rollins, however, I didn’t even try. Then Jack Wheeler waltzed into my life and everything changed. I felt a sudden wave of sadness for Dave and all the women who’d cared about him as deeply as Connie.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Connie.” Emily reached out and put an arm around her aunt’s shoulders. Then she pulled her arm back, squared her shoulders, and faced me. “Tell me what I have to do to get this mess cleared up.”
“You need to speak to the police and get your story on record. I’m sure they’ll want it in writing, too, and will ask you for a signed statement. I’ll call Detective Wheeler and he’ll have someone contact you to set a time for you to meet with them. If you saw that guard again, would you recognize him?” Emily’s face began to flush again with fear or anger, or both. She scanned the room, eying the door as if she might bolt!
“How do I know? Maybe! What if he recognizes me? I want my lawyer, before I agree to do anything. In fact, I’m out of here until I have a talk with him!”
“Don’t even think about it,” her aunt said. Connie reached out and placed a hand on her niece’s arm. “If you want to get this over, calm down, and do as Georgie says. You’ll have to tell your story one more time and then it’ll be done. She can have her lawyer with her, right?”
“She’s a witness not a suspect, but I’m sure she can have legal representation with her.” I glanced at Emily wondering if she was telling us the whole truth about what went on that night. Figuring that out would have to be up to the police investigators. As far as I could tell, we were done here. “You’ve done the right thing, you two. Your Aunt Connie’s got your best interests at heart and she’s right, this is your best chance to bring the matter to a close.” In another couple of minutes, the two women were gone again.
“I was right about this being an interesting day, wasn’t I?” Carol asked.
“Yes, and there’s more to come. Are you ready for round two with Margaret Landry and Margaret Knight—or Meg and Maggie as they prefer to be called.”
“I can’t wait to meet them and hear their stories about the maestro.”
“I’ll be surprised if Maggie has much to tell. She was remarkably upbeat on the phone, given how hard this must be on her. To lose her grandfather so soon after entering his life has to be tough.”
“It can’t be easy for her grandmother either. Maybe Maggie’s putting up a good front for Meg.”
“Let’s go over the plans we have for the memorial service. That way we’ll be able to give them a good sense about what we have in mind to honor his professional accomplishments once he came to work for Marvelous Marley World. To be honest, what I’m most curious about is what his life was like before that even though it’s not particularly relevant to the memorial we’re planning.”
“Meg Landry ought to be able to tell you plenty about it.”
“If she’s willing and I can figure out how to steer the conversation that way. I’d like to ask her the sort of questions the police are most likely to ask about anyone from his past who might still want to kill him. It doesn’t feel good to add to the distress they’re feeling.”
“If they believe it’ll help figure out who killed Dave, they’ll be more than willing to answer your questions. I’ll be surprised if Maggie Knight turns out to be a spoiled brat like Emily Lombard. That chick got on my nerves. She needs to take a few lessons from her Aunt Connie who still has a heart even after one of those bad break-ups with the maestro.”
“Pat mentioned Connie wasn’t always as dispassionate as she is now about Dave’s shortcomings. Emily’s young, maybe she’ll improve with age. Let’s see if the other women in Dave’s life are easier to take and if they have any information
that can help. Emily Lombard wasn’t in the maestro’s life long enough to know much about him or care. At least one of the Margarets we’re about to meet was in Dave’s life a long time—even before he was Dave.”
19 The Two Margarets
Carol set the table outside, prepared the baby vegetables and tiny potatoes I planned to serve with the Sole Meunière. She played with the cats while I cooked the lunch items that could be prepared in advance and prepped items that needed to be cooked on the spot. As often as I’ve cooked meals for others, I still get anxious. At least until the cooking starts. Once that happens, the wonderful colors, textures, and aromas involved in cooking take over. It’s a more sensual than cerebral experience that sends worries fleeing. I’m fortunate not to have developed more of an addiction to food than to coffee and chocolate.
Before the doorbell rang, Miles’ trumpet blast of a voice announced their arrival. Carol and I dashed to the door to greet them. I could tell instantly that the two women were related. Margaret Landry was the taller of the two, even while leaning a bit on a cane. It was easy to believe Teddy Austin’s tale of what a gorgeous woman she was when he met her in Chicago as Dave’s “Aunt Meg.”
She was still stunning with her hair pulled back in a French twist adorned with a cloisonné comb. It was still shiny even though it was no longer black. Her eyes were as startling as Teddy had said.
“Come in, Maggie, please. I’m so glad you could join me for lunch at the last minute like this. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said extending a hand to Margaret Landry. “I’m Georgie Shaw and this is my Executive Assistant, Carol Ripley.”
“Believe it or not…” Carol interjected nervously. “I used to get teased a lot as a kid because of my last name.” The two Margarets looked as though they weren’t sure what to say. I smiled and gave Carol a nudge.
“That’s one of Carol’s favorite ways to introduce herself. She’s hard to forget later, trust me.” The women smiled.
Murder of the Maestro Page 15
