“Yes, but it’s such a mess back there he just opened the door, took one look, and then shut it again. Parker keeps promising he’ll clean it up. That man . . .”
“How about this. I’ll go over there and see if Officer Hitchcock can tell me anything.”
Christy Ann’s eyes grew wide. “Do they really think Mr. Cooper was murdered? Things like that don’t happen in Butterfly Gardens.”
Just then, a squeak came out of the baby monitor. Before long, they could hear screaming in stereo.
“I’m going to run home and have a quick sandwich, then I’ll go talk to the officers.”
Christy Ann stood in the hallway, about to get the crying baby. “I can make you a sandwich here if you’d like. I have some chicken salad in the refrigerator.”
Deena glanced out the front window toward Edwin’s house. “Um, thanks, but I think I’ll pass. I have to let Hurley out anyway.” She hurried across the street and into the comfort—and safety—of her own home.
Chapter 21
The refrigerator light flickered but then shined steadily as Deena perused her lunch options. She’d intended to buy groceries on Monday but was obviously preoccupied with the events of the day. Peanut butter and jelly was always a good standby, as long as the bread was fresh. Hurley sat near her expectantly, hoping against hope that something would fall out of the big black box and into his mouth.
Dogs had such simple needs.
She finally decided on grilled cheese and pulled the butter and cheese slices from the fridge. As she set about making the sandwich, her mind reeled with her new reality.
I quit my job. I am once again unemployed. Honestly, she liked the way that sounded. It was as though a weight had been lifted and she was twenty pounds lighter. If only.
She looked at the two slices of cheese and tore one in half to give to Hurley. A new chapter in her life was beginning, which obviously meant it was time to start a new diet. She placed the buttered bread in the skillet and layered on the slice and a half of cheese. As she added the top piece of bread, her mind returned to the scene at Edwin’s house with his empty plate and glass on the coffee table.
Clearly, he wasn’t poisoned by anything Christy Ann prepared, although she’d feel better if the police tested the food. But what about the beverage? Could it have been poisoned as Hitchcock hypothesized? She trusted him about as much as she trusted herself to stick to a diet for more than twenty-four hours.
As she pressed down on the bread with her spatula, the butter sizzled and the aroma of baking bread soothed her. Maybe Edwin had died from natural causes; after all, the housekeeper had said he’d been acting funny when she got there, and he hadn’t eaten anything before that.
Or had he?
Smoke rising from the skillet shook her from her thoughts and she quickly scooped up the sandwich and flipped it over. Burnt. What else was new? Cooking required concentration, and she often got caught up in her own head while performing menial tasks. Like the time she was vacuuming and almost sucked up Hurley’s tail.
She mashed on the bread one more time, then put it on a plate. Waste not, want not. Besides, if she started over on a fresh one, she’d probably end up doing the same thing. She sat at the kitchen table and shared little pieces of cheese with Hurley as she ate. Just as she finished up, she heard a car door slam and went to the window to see what was up. Kitty Cooper hurried from her car to Edwin’s house.
Deena rushed to the back of the house to brush the burnt crumbs out of her teeth and then hurried across the yard. Kitty was already inside by the time she got there, and the door was closed. She knocked and waited.
Officer Santos opened the door. “Can I help you?”
It was an odd greeting coming from a cop. “I saw that Kitty was here and wanted to talk to her.”
Santos glanced back over his shoulder. “She’s busy talking to Officer Hitchcock. I’ll tell her you came by.” He started to close the door.
“Wait. Is this a crime scene?”
“Not officially,” Santos said and licked his bottom lip. “Not yet.”
“Well then, I’d like to talk to my neighbor’s granddaughter if you don’t mind.” She took a step toward the door, and the officer reluctantly stepped back.
Kitty stood protectively next to the sofa where a sunken spot in the cushion marked where her grandfather spent many waking hours. Her eyes were red and moist as Hitchcock told her about the suspicious drink and Edwin’s behavior. She shot a glance at the housekeeper, who stood impatiently across the room.
“Lillian,” Kitty said as Hitchcock finished laying out his theory, “what do you think happened to Granddad? You were the last person to see him alive.”
“I wish I knew,” Lillian said, shaking her head slowly. “I think he might have been sick when I saw him in the morning. He was acting so strange. I should have called the doctor or something.” She wiped the sleeve of her sweater across her face. “Maybe he would still be alive.”
Both officers’ radios blared, and they listened to a message that sounded like gibberish to Deena.
“Finally. Detective Guttman is on his way,” Hitchcock announced.
“Does that mean I can leave soon?” Lillian asked. “I haven’t had lunch and I don’t feel so good.”
All eyes turned to her. Were they all thinking the same thing? Could whatever struck down Edwin be affecting her too?
Kitty reached her first. “Here. Sit down. I’ll get you something to eat.” She guided the woman to a chair.
“I can make you a grilled cheese sandwich,” Deena offered.
“No, I just want to go home. And I’ve already been sitting a long time.”
“No one goes in the kitchen,” Hitchcock said. “We may have evidence to preserve.”
Kitty folded her arms and stood next to Lillian as though she were an armed guard. “If you think someone actually killed Granddad, then you must have a suspect in mind.” She directed the question to Hitchcock.
“Well,” he said, reaching up under his big hat to scratch his head, “most of the time it’s a family member or someone close to the victim. Ain’t that right, Mrs. Sharpe? You’ve helped solved a fistful of murders, what do you think?”
“Follow the money,” she said without giving herself a second to think of the implication of her statement.
Kitty cocked her head toward Deena. “I was in jail, as you well know.”
“Oh, I know. That’s just something detectives say. Obviously, it doesn’t apply in this case.” She felt her face flush. The front door opened. “Speaking of detectives, here’s one now.”
Guttman strolled in and made a slow sweep of the scene. “What’s going on in here? It looks like one of those murder mystery parties.”
Kitty let out a huffing sound and Guttman turned toward her.
“Sorry, Miss Cooper. Didn’t mean to sound disrespectful.” He looked back at Hitchcock. “I know the basics, but why don’t you fill me in.”
The officer walked Guttman through the details starting with the housekeeper’s story, the 9-1-1 call, and his suspicions about the poisoned drink. “I’ve also conducted two interviews of neighbors.”
Guttman looked at Deena. “I suppose you are one of those neighbors.”
She nodded.
“And why are you involved, other than being a reporter?”
“Ex-reporter,” Deena said.
Guttman’s jaw dropped slightly, but he snapped it closed.
Deena waved toward the sofa. “Like I told Officer Hitchcock, I came over to check on Mr. Cooper yesterday morning and found him to be fine. Today when I heard he was, um, had passed, I came over to see if there was anything I could do.”
“I checked her house,” Hitchcock said. “She’s clean.”
“Terrific. Then if you have statements from these ladies, I think we should let them leave.” He motioned toward the door.
“I haven’t really asked Miss Cooper any questions yet,” Hitchcock protested.
“I don’t think that’s necessary at this time. We know she’ll be around and where to find her.”
Kitty shook her head. “This is my grandfather’s house and I’m his executive.”
“Executor,” Deena corrected.
“Whatever. I should be able to stay here to take care of stuff.”
Guttman’s eyes darted around the room. “True enough, but you can understand why we want to be cautious until we know exactly what caused Mr. Cooper’s death.”
“Well, it wasn’t me.” She stuck out her chin.
“All right,” Guttman said. “What is it you want from the house right now?”
“Granddad kept a box of his important papers. I need it.”
Guttman nodded at the rookie. “Okay then. Officer Santos, help Miss Cooper retrieve the box, verify the contents, and then show her out.” He turned back. “You two are free to go.”
Lillian walked swiftly out the front door and got in her car to leave. Deena headed more slowly to the door, hoping the detective would follow her out. He did.
When they stepped outside onto the porch, Guttman stopped. “This case has taken a strange twist.”
“You mean other than another man dying?”
“Yes, actually.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Are we off the record?”
“There is no record anymore. Another reporter will likely be pestering you soon, though.”
“Okay then. Since you seem to know so much about this case, what do you make of this? It may not be related, but we got a tip about John Doe. He was staying at the Pine Tree Motel. The manager, who obviously doesn’t read the newspaper, hadn’t even noticed he was missing. Anyway, we searched his room and found an old Florida driver’s license. So now we have a name.”
Deena couldn’t believe the first mystery was solved. “Was his name Rocky something? I gave that tip to Officer Santos.”
“I know. But his real name was Richard Boxer. Rocky must have been a nickname.”
Deena floated the names in her head. Boxer. Rocky—makes sense.
“And another thing, the source said Rocky was picked up at the park last Thursday by a man and a woman.”
Deena wondered if the police had bribed Tiny for more information. Not wanting to give up too much of what she knew, Deena asked, “Did this source happen to be really tall with an ironic name?”
Guttman narrowed his eyes. “Not really. His name is Boles. Picked him up for petty theft, and he gave up the info for a shorter stay in the city lockup. Here’s my concern though. We found a note in Rocky’s room with a time and date that matched when he was supposedly picked up at the park. There was a name on it. Clay. Doesn’t Kitty Cooper have a boyfriend by that name?”
Deena just stared. At last the truth was going to come out about Kitty and Clay paying Rocky to go with them to the bank.
Guttman rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, we’re looking for the car the couple had been driving to see if we can ID them. Boles said it was a dark-red sports car. Beat up though. Not new.”
Deena’s head whipped around to see Kitty’s car parked in front of the house down from where they stood. Of course, it was the dark-red sports car the police were looking for. Again, Deena felt like she had to straddle the line between concerned neighbor, Kitty’s confidant, and newly unemployed reporter. She got Guttman’s attention and then cut her eyes toward the parked car.
Guttman frowned at her.
She did it again, this time letting her head nod a little in that same direction.
He shook his head. “What? Are you having a stroke?”
Deena pursed her lips and pointed.
Guttman followed her finger and suddenly realized what was happening. “Oh. The car. Whose is it?”
Deena motioned with her head toward Edwin’s house.
Guttman held up his hands and barked out, “Just tell me.”
“Kitty’s.” As soon as the word was out of her mouth, the door opened, and Kitty walked out with a shoebox in her hand. She didn’t speak to or make eye contact with either of them but instead headed straight to her car.
Guttman crossed his arms as he watched her drive away.
Chapter 22
By the time Gary got home, crime scene tape had been strung across the front porch of Edwin’s house and the CSI vehicle had arrived. Deena assumed that meant the poison in the glass had been confirmed. Although she’d been prepared for it, the confirmation was upsetting, nonetheless. Who could have been so diabolical as to poison an old man who was quietly living out his golden years in the suburbs?
Deena had called Gary to break the news of Edwin’s death so he wouldn’t be shocked when he drove past the house. She had spent the rest of the afternoon reorganizing her office and boxing up any files related to her work at the newspaper. Gary would have to find a place for them in the garage until she could talk to Dan and figure out a permanent solution.
She had peeked into the spare bedroom, which had become a catchall room for her antique booth purchases, winter clothes, and various whatnots. Although she was looking forward to working on her booth again, she really needed to go by Hidden Treasures and take stock of what had and hadn’t sold before adding more merchandise.
Gary greeted her with a warm hug. “Are you all right?”
“I suppose.” She held on to him a little longer than usual.
“After you told me about Edwin, I wondered if Dan was going to make you stay on the story. Did you talk to him?”
Deena let go of her husband’s embrace. In all that had happened, she’d forgotten to tell him her big news about quitting her job. She looked into his eyes and thought of all the elegant ways she could break it to him. At last she blurted out, “I quit.”
“What?” He took a step back, although his eyes gleamed and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Did Dan refuse to let you off the story?”
Deena explained the situation about talking to Dan and Kitty and Guttman and Hitchcock and Ian and Guttman again. Whew. No wonder she was so tired.
“Well, I can’t say that I blame you. Now you can be like one of those amateur sleuths in those cozy mysteries you are always reading.”
She chuckled. “You mean the nosy women who find a way to insert themselves into murder investigations they have no business getting involved in?”
“Exactly.” Gary kissed the top of her head. “We need to eat dinner soon so we can get to the meeting.”
“What meeting?” Deena was dog-tired and ready to curl up in bed with a book. Had she forgotten another commitment she’d promised Gary she would keep?
Gary headed to the kitchen and the refrigerator. “The one in the message.”
“What message?” She was too tired to play twenty questions with him.
“From the Friendly Neighbors app. I put it on your phone.” He pulled a package of chicken breasts out of the freezer.
Deena held up her hand. “Anything but chicken.”
He swapped the chicken out for a package of pork chops and unwrapped them to put in the microwave for defrosting. “Christy Ann has called an emergency meeting of the neighborhood watch.”
“Ugh. I deleted that app,” she said. “It kept dinging every time someone wanted to sell fundraiser candy or needed a recommendation for a housekeeper. Speaking of which, Lillian, Edwin’s housekeeper, is probably looking for a new job—unless she winds up in jail.”
Gary pushed the button on the microwave and leaned back against the counter. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been thinking about who might have poisoned Edwin.” Deena swiveled around on the barstool. “Let’s assume it wasn’t Christy Ann. Who else had the opportunity?”
“The housekeeper?”
“Lillian said she was there this morning and Edwin was acting tipsy or something. Then she fixed him a plate of casserole and went to the market. But who’s to say she didn’t just make the whole story up?”
“Okay, but what would be her motive?”
“
There’s not one that I know of, but everyone has secrets.”
The microwave dinged and Gary checked the chops. He added more time and pushed the button again. “Who else is on your list? Kitty is out, right?”
“I think so, unless she and her boyfriend, Clay, were working together. Obviously, their motive would be money. Kitty was apparently Edwin’s sole beneficiary, according to what he said the other day.” Deena couldn’t believe it was just two days earlier that she was at Edwin’s house and he was alive and well.
Gary rubbed his chin. “But why would she bother to steal a couple of hundred dollars and a ring to pawn and then turn around and kill her grandfather? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Which is why Clay is at the top of my list.” Hurley yapped at Deena’s feet, so she reached over the counter and got a dog biscuit out of his treat jar.
Gary wrinkled his face. “I thought we were going to cut down on the number of treats we were giving him.”
“I can’t help it. He’s just so cute.” Deena scratched the top of Hurley’s head. “Like I was saying, I think Clay could be the killer. Kitty said the plan to take Rocky to the bank was his idea. I believe her. I think she really loved her grandfather and felt bad for pulling the wool over his eyes. But Clay . . . I don’t know.”
The microwave dinged again, and they finished preparing supper.
A FULL BELLY, A GLASS of wine, and an emotional day had lulled Deena into a kind of stupor. The last thing she wanted to do was listen to Christy Ann gossip with the neighbors. Not that Deena didn’t enjoy gossip; she did. But she was emotionally spent, and her PJs were calling her name.
“Deena?”
That was Gary. “I see other people arriving across the street. We need to go.”
“Uh, do I have to? Can’t you represent us both?”
He got that same look on his face as he had the other day when she said she didn’t want to help out at his office.
“Never mind. I’ll go. I can see it’s important to you.” She slipped her feet back into her shoes and held his hand as they walked across the street.
Stay Sharpe Box Set Page 42
