by Mary Maxwell
“How recently did he relapse this time?”
Blanche winced. “What are you talking about?”
“You just said that he’s fallen off the wagon more than once. And when he came to Sky High the other day, he asked for scotch on the rocks.”
She smiled. “He’s a sweet man,” she said. “And like a lot of people, he’s plagued by demons and doubt. That’s no excuse for the drinking, but it does explain why he overindulges now and again. During the past few months, he’s barely touched a drop until the business with the—” She glanced down at her hands, twined together at her waist. “I shouldn’t speak unkindly about him, Katie. He’s a good man who’s faced more than his fair share of bad times.”
There was conviction in her voice and a look of determination on her face. I’d known Blanche since I was a young girl; she never lied and she wasn’t easily hoodwinked. If she said Boris Hertel had barely had a drink, then it was the truth. As Blanche continued on, telling me her beau’s dedication to AA meetings and church on Sunday, I thought about my most recent encounters with Boris. Why was he drinking the morning he visited Sky High? Why did he deliver a copy of the anonymous threats to me? And what did the cryptic remarks mean that he’d whispered at the Poke-A-Dot Lounge?
I was lost in thought when I felt the touch of Blanche’s slender hand on my arm.
“Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?”
“Yes, I was just…” I sat up and took a breath. “I was thinking about Boris. It seems like he’s been through quite a lot in the past few years.”
“More than you can imagine. The drinking and then losing Edith were bad enough, but the recent business with his son has been especially stressful on him.” Her expression darkened. “I was terrified when Boris told me about it. But late last week he said that it would all be resolved very soon.”
“What would be resolved?”
Blanche shrugged. “I know enough not to meddle if someone doesn’t want to share,” she said. “Whatever Boris was talking about involved his son along with two or three other folks. Boris was in a terribly sour mood for a very long time, but he told me they’d found a way to straighten it out. I didn’t ask about it again after that.”
“Okay, so…can I ask a question, Blanche?”
She smiled. “I’m an open book, sweetheart. What do you want to know?”
“Why would Boris put on the act?” I asked.
“What act—the tipsy, forgetful codger?”
“Yeah, that one.”
Both of her eyebrows lifted. “Just between you and me?”
“Pinky swear,” I said, holding out one hand. “Whatever you tell me is our secret.” She wrapped her little finger around mine. “Unless, of course, it involves criminal activity.”
Blanche scowled. “A pinky swear is a pinky swear, Katie!”
“I know, but I can’t condone or cover up illegal behavior.”
Her frown flipped into a dazzling grin. “I’m just teasing! I fully agree with that idea. As law-abiding residents of Crescent Creek, it’s our duty to inform the local authorities if we learn about someone doing something improper.” She paused and giggled. “That’s why I called 911 when I saw Herbert Tucker getting his mail in the other day. He was wearing his wife’s bathrobe and his twig and berries were on full display.” She made a face. “And, let me tell you, that is nothing the public needs to see. It was indecent exposure of the highest order, Katie. Just a horrendous thing to witness!”
I patted her hand. “You have my sympathy,” I said. “Seeing Herbert fully dressed is difficult enough. I don’t know why he thinks plaid shirts look good with plaid pants.”
We shared a mischievous laugh before I asked her again about Boris pretending to be drunk in public.
“Why does he do it?” Blanche said rhetorically. “Because it’s given him a peek behind the curtain to try and help his son.”
I frowned.
“I’m sorry, Blanche. I don’t follow.”
“It allows him to overhear things he might not otherwise be privy to,” she explained. “If people perceive him as a drunken old fool, they don’t think twice if he’s nearby when they’re whispering in the shampoo aisle at CVS.”
“Okay, I’ll buy that. What did he overhear?”
Blanche’s head tilted forward and she lowered her voice. “Something about a blackmail scheme to squeeze a huge amount of money from a man named Devane,” she whispered. “It’s got something to do with spreading rumors about who actually came up with the original idea for his company’s product. Apparently, the official history lists Carter as the sole inventor, but there are rumors that he had help. If the truth comes out, he could potentially be sued by the people that just bought his business for a pretty penny.”
“And Boris really heard that in the store?”
Blanche nodded. “The man and woman he heard were in the shampoo aisle,” she explained. “By the time he strolled around the corner to see who he’d been listening to, the conspirators were long gone.”
“Did you tell the police about this?”
She shook her head. “There’s been nothing concrete to report until now,” she explained. “And Boris didn’t want me to get involved. He’s worried that I might be in danger if the reprehensible goons find out that I know about the plot.”
“Well, what about Boris? Isn’t he concerned for his own safety?”
She nodded, frowning slightly. “Yes, but I couldn’t persuade him to take a different course, Katie. He insisted on getting involved in some sort of peripheral way.”
“By delivering the letter to me the other day?”
She shrugged, but didn’t say a word.
“If he isn’t careful,” I said, “Boris could end up charged as an accessory to murder.”
Blanche’s mouth fell open. “Why on earth would that happen? These men are talking about legal battles, not actual physical violence.”
“Is that what Boris believes?”
She nodded. “That’s what they were talking about—a legal fight involving documents that prove which one actually conceived of the idea first.”
“Well, I guess you haven’t heard the news,” I said. “There was a fire at Ira Pemberton’s last night and they—”
“Oh, I heard about that. Hazel called after she ran into Belinda at the MiniMart.”
“Did she tell you the rest of the story?”
Blanche shrugged. “Well, I don’t know,” she said. “Hazel told me that someone conked Ira on the noggin and then set fire to his body shop.”
“There was actually more to it,” I said. “The first officers on the scene also found a body in back of Ira’s place.”
Blanche gulped in a breath. “A body? It wasn’t Boris was it?”
“No, it wasn’t him.”
She collapsed back onto the sofa with both hands over her heart. “Oh, thank goodness! I haven’t talked to him in a couple of days. Just a text or two telling me that he was busy helping his son.”
I decided not to mention that I’d talked to Boris at the Poke-A-Dot Lounge. I was thinking about an appropriate follow-up when a timer buzzed in the next room. Blanche jumped up from the sofa and hurried across the room.
“I’ve got a casserole in, Katie! Give me a second and I’ll be right back!”
I stood and followed her into the kitchen. “That’s okay,” I said, watching as her hands disappeared inside enormous quilted gray oven mitts. “I should get going. I need to stop at the bank and then Food Town before I head home.”
“Oh, I was going to ask you to stay.” She carefully lowered a covered dish onto a trivet. “It’s my world famous Salmon Surprise!”
My nose detected the aroma of seafood along with sauerkraut. “Doesn’t that sound delicious?”
She tugged off the mitts and dropped them onto the counter. “It’s an award-winning recipe, Katie! I took top prize at the Crescent Creek Food & Wine Festival five years ago with this one!”
“Well, it s
mells yummy, Blanche. But I really need to scoot. I’ve got many miles to go before I can put up my feet, pour a glass of wine and relax.”
CHAPTER 20
Trent was in Dina’s office, sitting in the dark by himself, when I came through the door and flipped on the light. He was slouched behind the desk with a bag of pretzels balanced on his stomach and a can of Diet Coke in one hand. When I’d called a half hour earlier to report that I was on my way with the chocolate lava cake, he asked me to meet him in Detective Kincaid’s office. She had gone out to interview witnesses for another case, so he was camped out at her desk to make sure they talked as soon as she returned.
“Bon appétit!” I cheered, putting the Sky High carryout box on the desk. “Your cake has arrived!”
“Thanks, Katie.”
“My pleasure,” I said, sliding into one of the chairs in front of Dina’s desk. “Your salty snacks sound more appetizing than what I was just offered for dinner,”
“What was that?”
“Salmon Surprise. It’s a casserole that Blanche—”
Trent stopped me with one hand. “And you turned it down?”
I nodded.
“Big mistake, Katie. I know you probably thought it smelled weird, but that’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever had in my life.” He stopped to glare and wag one finger. “Do yourself a favor. The next time Blanche offers it, experience the power and glory of Salmon Surprise.”
“In the meantime,” I said, gesturing for one of his pretzels, “can you do me a favor?”
He nodded and held out the crinkly cellophane bag. “What’s on your mind?”
“Can you explain why you’re sitting at Dina’s desk alone with the lights off?”
“It smells nicer in here than my office,” he said. “Besides, she doesn’t mind if I meditate in here while I wait.”
“Meditate?”
He smiled. “Yeah, you know—think about things, mull over cases, contemplate the meaning of life.”
“How’s that going for you?”
He held up the Diet Coke. “So far, so good. You want anything to drink?”
“I won’t be here that long,” I said. “I have a couple more stops after this and there are still a few things at Sky High that I need to finish.”
“Well, we should get to it then,” he said, moving into a more upright position. “What was it you wanted to tell me?” He smiled and sipped from the can. “I mean, besides the fact that you totally cheated yourself out of an incredible meal at Blanche’s house.”
I skimmed over the attempt at humor and went right to the Boris Hertel situation. I explained that Blanche and Boris had been spending lots of time together. Then I recounted what she’d told me about her new paramour being essentially sober lately so he could help his son with a top secret project. And then I asked if they had any new leads about the murder of Jacob Lowry.
“Slow down there, Speed Racer. What was that about Boris being sober?”
“According to Blanche, he’s been almost completely off the sauce for a few weeks.”
“Then why did you tell me that he reeked of liquor?”
“Because he did.”
Trent crunched a pretzel, contemplating the exchange. Then he asked me to repeat everything that Blanche had told me during our conversation. He listened carefully, drinking the Diet Coke and nibbling on pretzels. When I finished, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned forward in the chair.
“Okay, I’ve got all of that,” he said. “But there’s one thing I don’t know.”
“What’s that?”
“Where is Boris Hertel?” Trent said. “We’d like to talk with him about a few things, but it seems like he’s suddenly MIA.”
I shrugged. “Blanche hasn’t seen him for a couple of days. Haven’t you guys brought him in for questioning?”
Trent smiled, guzzled some more from the can and went back to slouching. “Not yet. His neighbor told Denny Santiago and Amanda Crane that Boris hasn’t been home in days. And there’s a pile of mail in the box that confirms their statement.”
“You know, now that we’re talking about him in detail,” I said, “there’s something I was curious about yesterday.”
Trent smiled and plunged one hand into the bag of pretzels again. He came out with a few, held them in my direction and asked if I wanted another.
“No, I’m good, thanks. Didn’t you tell me that Denny and Amanda picked up Boris at Tipton’s after he stole a bottle of Glenfiddich?”
Trent chomped down on a pretzel. “Yep. Shoplifting charge. But then George Tipton decided not to press charges. Said he felt sorry for the old guy.”
“And then…what? Boris strolled out of here and disappeared into thin air?”
Trent shrugged. “I don’t know about the last part,” he said. “But I can confirm that Boris is no longer in lockup.”
“Don’t you think we should find him?”
The bag of pretzels was empty. Trent stared at it for a moment before he got up, crossed the room and dropped it into the trash.
“What I wouldn’t give for some of that Salmon Surprise,” he mumbled.
“Hey! Didn’t you hear me?”
He turned and blinked repeatedly. “Sorry…” He plopped down on the desk chair again. “What was that, Katie?”
“I was talking about Boris Hertel,” I said. “Shouldn’t we find him and see if he knows anything about Jacob Lowry?”
“I agree with that last part,” Trent said with a lopsided grin. “But I don’t know why you’re saying ‘we,’ Katie.”
“Let me help,” I said. “In an unofficial capacity, of course.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Like you’ve done before a time or two?”
I held his gaze, but didn’t say anything.
“Alright,” he said after a long pause. “If you find Boris before we do, why don’t you let me know.”
“And vice versa?”
Trent chuckled. “We’ll see about that,” he said. “I can’t make such momentous decisions on a nearly empty stomach.” He put one hand on his belly. “You up for some barbecue? Smoky Joe’s has half priced burnt end sandwiches today.”
I plucked my purse from where I’d left it on the desk and stood up. “No can do,” I said. “I need to hit the bank before they close and then pickup a few things at Food Town.”
He grumbled and reached for his phone. “Party pooper. I’ll give Tyler Armstrong a buzz. He’s upstairs making calls on the Lowry case. Maybe he’d like to take a break and get some grub.”
“I hope he’s up for it,” I said, walking toward the hallway. “If he passes, why don’t you call your mom and dad?”
Trent groaned. “That’s a sore subject, Katie!”
“What happened?”
“I forgot my mother’s birthday,” he answered. “For the second year in a row. They’re both kind of peeved at me, so I’ll start with Tyler. If he passes, I’ll see if Red Hancock wants to go.”
“Well, I’m sure someone will have pity on you,” I said as Dina swept into the office looking as gorgeous as ever. She was wearing a dark jacket, white blouse and tan slacks with a pair of gleaming black boots.
“Hey, kids!” she said, clearly in a good mood. “Mommy’s home!”
Trent muttered something rude and I gave him a disapproving look. “Hey! Don’t be disrespectful, big guy.”
“Well, what about her?” he sputtered. “‘Mommy’s home’ is infantilizing you and me.”
“Where’d you hear that word?” I asked.
He beamed a smile. “I was watching Ellen the other day,” he said proudly. “It was on at my mom and dad’s when I stopped by to try and make peace over the birthday thing.”
Dina flopped into the chair beside me. “Okay, so…I’m sorry to infantilize you, Deputy Chief Walsh. My apology and it’ll never happen again.”
He scowled. “Until it does, you mean.”
“So?” Dina ignored his comment. “What’s goin
g on, Katie? How’re things at Sky High?”
“Oh, everything there is great! I called Trent earlier after I talked to Blanche Speltzer about Boris and—”
“I heard they’re dating,” she interrupted. “Is that true?”
I smiled. “Yes, I believe so.”
“Wow! She’s, like, eighty and he’s…” She glanced down at notes on her desk. “He’s twenty years younger!”
“Who cares about that?” Trent asked. “We’re working on the Jacob Lowry homicide and the arson at Pemberton’s body shop.”
Dina’s face went from sunshine to stormy in a split second. “Yes, that’s true. So…what did Blanche say about Boris?”
I answered with the same information that I’d already shared with Trent. Then I asked if Dina had any thoughts about the whereabouts of Boris Hertel.
“Did you try his son?” she asked.
“Kevin?”
“Yep. A couple of our officers were at Burger & Brew for lunch. They saw Kevin and his dad huddled in a booth. Maybe Boris is staying with his son for the time being. I mean, in light of what’s going on with Carter Devane and Jacob Lowry.”
I nodded, waiting for more.
“You know Jacob’s a part owner of the place,” Dina said.
“The burger joint?”
“He and another guy from college opened it a couple of years ago,” she explained.
“Did your officers happen to overhear any of what was being discussed?” I asked.
“Between Kevin and Boris?”
“Right. When they saw them having lunch together.”
Dina smiled. “No, they didn’t. But I found out from another source and it was not what I expected.”
Trent sighed. “Well, what was it?” he said in a snippy tone. “All of this talk about burgers is making me hungry.”
Dina glared at him silently for a few seconds. Then she said, “Poetry.”
“Poetry?” I said in disbelief. “Boris and Kevin Hertel?”
“I know,” Dina said. “It’s weird, right? But get this—it’s also what Jacob Lowry and Kevin were discussing the day that Jacob was murdered. They were in Burger & Brew sometime that afternoon for a bite to eat.”
