The Scent of Murder

by Barbara Block

  Manuel yawned, by way of an answer. We drove around for another twenty minutes. Then I went over to the warehouse to see if Toon Town had ended up there. He hadn’t. There were no cars in the parking lot. It was time to go home.

  Manuel was sound asleep when I pulled into my driveway. He was groggy when I woke him, and I had to steady him as he went into the house. He made it as far as the living room before he collapsed on the sofa. I let him stay there because I was too tired to make him go up the stairs. He really had to patch things up with his family. I’d talk about it with him tomorrow, I decided, as I went to bed.

  When my alarm went off at seven thirty, I pushed the cat off my chest, pulled the cord out of the wall, and put the pillow over my head. I would have stayed that way if Zsa Zsa hadn’t started barking and licking my fingers at twenty after nine. I was tired, every muscle in my body ached. I felt as if I were ninety-eight years old, and the day hadn’t even begun yet. Standing under the shower, I decided I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to start getting more sleep. I used to be able to run on four hours a night. Now I needed at least six.

  I got out and pulled on some clothes. Then I went downstairs, gulped down half a cup of day-old coffee, grabbed a handful of Oreo cookies, and ran out the door. I made it to the store with three minutes to spare. The only good things about the morning so far, I reflected, were that the sky wasn’t grey and it wasn’t raining. In Syracuse, a little blue goes a long way.

  I had the key in the lock, when George pulled up to the curb in his Taurus. I watched him get out of his car. He looked as tired as I felt. He held up a Dunkin’ Donuts box and a white paper bag. “Coffee and doughnuts.”

  “Sounds good.” I opened up the store and George, Zsa Zsa, and I went inside. Pickles came running out to greet us, while Mr. Bones ran excitedly from side to side in his cage. I said hello to all the animals, opened the register, took the coffee George was offering, and sipped it. Compared to what I’d just drank back at the house, it was ambrosial. “So when’d you get back?”

  “Just now. I left the Bronx at six.”

  “Did you get everything straightened out?”

  “For the moment.” George frowned. “Jesus, though, it’s like patching up a sieve.”

  “Then why do you keep going down there?”

  “Because they call me.”

  “Can’t they call anyone else?”

  “I don’t think anyone else in my family wants to be bothered anymore. I guess they got tired of the phone ringing in the middle of the night.”

  “And you aren’t? Don’t you have a paper that’s due soon?”

  George rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. “I don’t know why I just can’t seem to say no. I tell myself I will, but the next time they call, back down I go. And the worst part of it is whenever I’m there, I feel like I want to kill them.” He looked so sad that I went over and gave him a hug. His lips curved up in a tiny smile. “Let’s talk about your mess instead. It’ll make me feel better.”

  I laughed and told him about Amy. He ate a doughnut, while I gave him a rundown of what had happened while he’d been away.

  “It seems like you’re getting to meet the whole Richmond family,” he remarked when I was through.

  “Yeah. Aren’t I lucky?” I broke off a piece of a peanut-covered chocolate doughnut and popped it in my mouth. “I wonder if Dennis was as bad as the rest of them?”

  “Oh yeah. He was a real jerk.”

  I did a double take. “You knew him? You never told me that.”

  “I didn’t know-know him. The guy used the same gym I did.” George picked up a glazed doughnut and took a bite.

  “What was he like?”

  “He was one of those guys who wouldn’t do anything all week and then would come in and try to bench two hundred and fifty pounds.” George finished the rest of the doughnut and wiped his hands off with a paper towel. “Dave, the guy that owns the place.” I nodded. “Tried to tell him he was going to get himself in trouble, but he blew him off. His attitude was—I got money, so kiss my ass.”

  “He sounds charming.”

  “He was a real sweetie.” George ran a finger under the collar of his crewneck sweater. “Damn thing itches,” he grumped.

  “Wool does. You should wear a shirt under it, the next time.”

  He grunted. “So what do you think the story with Amy is? You think she killed her father?”

  “No.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I don’t. It’s just a feeling I have. But I think she knows something, and I think she’s terrified.” She’d certainly acted that way in the parking lot the other night when the car had driven by.

  “Of what?”

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  George puffed his cheeks out and sucked them back in. “Then why doesn’t she go to the police?”

  I thought back to our conversation. “Maybe she doesn’t think they’ll believe anything she says.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because she’s a druggie. Because she’s been in Cedar View.”

  “Maybe she’s right.” George drained the last of his coffee. “According to you, she was one of the last people to see her father alive. I know if I were investigating this case, she’d be on the top of my list.”

  “If I were betting, I’d pick the mother.”

  George laughed. “You’re biased.”

  “No, I’m not. Well, maybe a little,” I conceded. “What did Murphy see in her anyway?”

  George shrugged. “She asked him. That was enough.”

  It was true. Saying no had never been one of Murphy’s strong suits. “Actually, the whole family is peculiar. There’s something off about all of them.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Observation. What I really need is some information.” I gave George a speculative look.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “I was just thinking about your cousin.”

  “What about him?”

  “I was wondering if he knew anything about the Richmond family.”

  George snorted. “Why the hell should he?”

  “Well, they are in the same field.”

  “That’s really stretching it. He’s a nobody, a nobody who’s about to lose his license. The only thing he knows about the Richmond family is their name in the catalog they send him.”

  “Maybe he’s heard something.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. I know you don’t want to, but could you call him up and ask?”

  George scowled.

  “For Amy’s sake. And Murphy’s.”

  “That’s a low blow.”

  I didn’t say anything. I just watched George fiddle with his sweater cuff.

  “I don’t see how finding out about the Richmond family is going to help you locate Amy,” he protested after a minute.

  “Just call it a hunch.”

  George sighed. “All right.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But it’s a waste of time. He won’t know anything.”

  “Thanks anyway.” I went over and gave George a kiss.

  He kissed me back. Hard. Then he started nibbling on my ear. “Let’s go in the back.”

  “Someone could walk in.”

  “Let them wait.” He slipped his hand between my legs.

  “You’re right. What do I need customers for, anyway?”

  “You don’t, when you got me.”

  I could feel my resolve start to weaken, when the phone rang. George sighed. I reached over and got it. Another joy of owning a business. You can never do what you want when you want.

  “It’s Frank Richmond,” I mouthed. George moved his ear closer to the receiver.

  “Can we talk?” Richmond asked. His voice was faint, and there was static on the line. He sounded as if he were using a cell phone.

  “We are.”

  He gave a weak laugh. “No. I meant face-to-face.”
<
br />   “Let me guess. It’s about Amy.”

  “More or less.” There was a longish pause on the other end of the line.

  “Are you still there?” I asked.

  “Sorry. Yes.” I heard honking. “Nine thirty tonight?” Richmond asked. “The Garden.”

  “How about Pete’s on Westcott,” I suggested, instead. The Garden annoyed me. It was full of rich, thirty-year-olds trying to act hip.

  “Fine.”

  “See you then.” By now the static was so bad I could barely make out his words.

  George took the receiver out of my hand and replaced it, while I put the closed sign on the front door. As we went into the back room, I decided I shouldn’t have been so quick to condemn the couple in the bathroom last night. What George and I were about to do wasn’t really much better, after all. I guess a quickie is a quickie is a quickie, no matter where you do it.

  George left about half an hour later. I spent the rest of the morning thinking about how Amy had ended up the way she had and wondering what Melanie and Toon Town had been fighting about.

  Around twelve thirty I called Locked Up Tight and asked for Wallace Gleason. I figured we had a lot to discuss. Don Marcos got on the line instead.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked anxiously.

  “No. I just have a question for Mr. Gleason.”

  “I’m sorry, but Wally doesn’t work for us anymore.”

  “I see.”

  There was a pause. Then Marcos said, “Can I ask what this is about?” His tone was tight.

  “It’s about a credit card application,” I ad-libbed. “I’m calling from Marine Midland.”

  “Good.” He sighed in relief.

  “May I ask why he left and how long he worked for you?”

  “Actually, I fired him.”

  “Would you mind telling me why?”

  “With pleasure. He was taking merchandise out of the store, missing work, doing wildcat work, and using our name. That kind of thing. In my line of work I can’t afford to employ unreliable people. I had to let him go.”

  “In your position, I would have, too,” I assured him. “Can you tell me anything else?” It always amazed me that people are willing to talk so freely on the phone. Even a guy like Marcos.

  “Not really. He started off good and then just slid downhill. I tried talking to him a couple of times to find out what was going on, but he didn’t have much to say.”

  I thanked Marcos and called Toon Town’s mother’s house. The answering machine picked up. I left a message and hung up. Around seven, I hopped in my cab and ran over to see if anyone was in the house Manuel and I had spotted Toon Town and Amy coming out of. No one was. Somehow I didn’t consider that an encouraging sign. Tim was hooking up an elaborate tunnel maze for Mr. Bones from PVC pipe when I got back.

  He glanced up. “Someone was here to see you,”

  “Who?”

  “He didn’t give his name.”

  “What did he look like?”

  Tim proceeded to describe Toon Town.

  I groaned. “What did he say?”

  “Not much. He looked around, bought a tin of fish food, and asked if he could use the bathroom.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Not exactly. He said to tell you that you were going to pay for last night. What exactly did you do to the man?”

  I told Tim the story.

  “Amy doesn’t have very nice friends, does she?” he observed, when I was done.

  “It would seem not.”

  Chapter 15

  I parked the cab in front of Pete’s Bar and got out. At nine thirty, Westcott was quiet. A while back, the street might have been filled with college students, but in recent years SU’s enrollment had dropped and the houses that had once held mommy and daddy’s pride and joy were now filled with Section Eights—read low income—families. The neighborhood was changing. No one liked it, as the last neighborhood meeting had demonstrated, but no one knew what to do about it either. Last year, Ike, Pete’s owner, had told me business was down. He was looking to sell. So far though he hadn’t found a buyer.

  But maybe that wasn’t because of the economy. Maybe that was because of the kind of bare bones place Pete’s was. The walls were a greyish-brown, as was the floor. Decoration was limited to a collection of sports memorabilia behind the bar, two SU Lacrosse posters tacked up on walls, and a stunted cactus near the window. It was a drinking man’s place, the kind of place you could wreck and not feel guilty about. The reason I went there was because my friend Connie worked there now—though she wasn’t there when Zsa Zsa and I walked in.

  “She’s got the flu,” Ebsen Field told me, when I asked where she was. Tall and thin, with a beard that needed pruning, Field was a perennial grad student. Right now, he was in the Anthro Department. Before that, he’d been in Human Biology. And before that he’d been in Architecture. Next year, who knew? “Or a new boyfriend,” he added, as he set a bottle of Sam Adams and a saucer down in front of me.

  “Probably the latter.” Connie was as free sampling men as Ebsen was sampling courses. They’d both acquired a fair amount of knowledge over the years. Neither was shy about sharing it, either.

  I lifted Zsa Zsa up and put her on the stool. Ebsen poured a little of my beer in the saucer. “Here you go, toots,” he said, pushing the saucer in front of the dog.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Toots?”

  He chortled. “Great word, isn’t it?” Ebsen had an affinity for expressions from the twenties. He pointed to Zsa Zsa, who was wagging her tail and barking for more. “She just laps it up, doesn’t she?”

  I groaned and fed Zsa Zsa a pretzel to quiet her down, while I looked around the bar. There were ten people there, and I didn’t know any of them, but then again I hadn’t expected to. Five were sitting around, talking, and the other five were huddled around the foos ball table.

  Ebsen leaned both elbows on the bar. “They’ve been playing since seven,” he said, stifling a yawn, as he glanced at his watch. “Four and a half more hours, and I’m out of here.”

  “Then you can go home and sleep.”

  “No. Then I can go home and study. I’ve got an exam in linguistics.” He straightened up and went to wait on a customer down at the other end of the bar. When he got back, I asked Ebsen to dial my house. It occurred to me I should let Manuel know I was going to be late.

  He told me to bring home some food and hung up. I was just finishing my beer when Frank Richmond walked in. He looked as if he’d aged three years since the last time I’d seen him. Now there were bags under his eyes and a faint hint of jowls around the jawline.

  “God, I haven’t been in a place like this in years,” he said, his tone making it clear he could have done without the experience. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to Zsa Zsa.

  “My dog.”

  “I didn’t think they allowed animals in places like this. I thought it was against the Health Code.”

  “Actually, she’s really Zsa Zsa Gabor in disguise.” We hadn’t even started our conversation and I was already sorry that I’d come. “So you want to talk or what?” I figured there wasn’t much danger of his walking out the door. After all, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be.

  “Talk.” The word came out as if it hurt him to say it. He ordered a Molson. When it came, I grabbed a bowl of popcorn and the three of us walked over to one of the tables sitting by the wall.

  “So?” I said, as I watched Frank Richmond carefully fold up his black cashmere overcoat and place it on the chair next to him. “What’s going on?”

  He gave the coat one last pat before he spoke. “You sure don’t waste any time do you?”

  Zsa Zsa barked and I poured a little more beer in her saucer and pushed it towards her. “It’s late and I’m tired.”

  Frank Richmond began tearing tiny pieces of the label off his beer. Soon the bottle was surrounded by a mound of blue and gold confetti. “I heard Charles,” he gave the name an ugl
y twist, “hired you to find Amy.”

  “Who told you that?”

  He took the label pieces and began making a large circle out of them. “Word gets around.”

  I threw a piece of popcorn to Zsa Zsa. She caught it and swallowed. I did it again. “And that’s why you’re here?”

  “I just thought you should know that he doesn’t exactly have Amy’s best interests at heart.”

  “In what way?”

  “Let’s just say he wouldn’t be unhappy if the police caught up with her.”

  “What would that accomplish?”

  “These days she usually carries enough dope on her to get herself into some serious trouble.”

  “Why would he want to do that?”

  “Because they don’t like each other.”

  “I’d say this goes beyond dislike.”

  Frank leaned forward. “Charlie hates her.”

  I took a sip of my Sam Adams and watched the foos ball players urge each other on. Their voices filled the room. “That’s not what he told me.”

  Frank Richmond sniggered. “I just bet it isn’t.”

  “He told me they used to stick up for each other when they were kids. You know, kind of band together against their parents.”

  “Yeah, right.” Frank Richmond ran his thumb around the top of his Molson. “Charlie hated Amy from the moment she was born. He was jealous as hell. They used to have to watch him all the time to make sure he didn’t hurt the baby.”

  “That’s not so unusual.”

  “He wasn’t much better when she was older. He was always hitting her and stealing her toys. Doing stuff to make her cry. I know. I was there.”

  “People’s relationships change as they grow up.” I threw a couple more pieces of popcorn to Zsa Zsa and ate some myself. “Maybe Charlie has had a change of heart.”

  “Not him.”

  I leaned back in the chair and regarded Frank. “And you’re telling me this because you like Amy so much.”

  “No.” He scratched his inner ear with his pinky. “Actually, I don’t give a shit about Amy. I just don’t want to see Charles get away with anything.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You were at the plant. You saw what happened.”