by Diana Orgain
I picked at the knob of the glove compartment in front of me. “No. I better go see him. Tell him myself. I don’t want him to get nervous. You can just drop me off at his place.”
“You have to pack!” Yolanda said.
I shrugged. “You’re right. I guess you can take me to my place. I’ll pack fast and then walk to Grunkly’s.” I glanced down at my tan chinos. “My entire wardrobe mixes and matches, anyway. I just have to pull a few things from my closet and shove them into a bag.”
Yolanda flinched as if my bland wardrobe was a personal assault. “You’re not bringing those pants with you to Mexico, are you?” Her chin jutted out, indicating the khakis I was wearing.
I grinned. “You don’t like my pants? They go with everything, you know.”
“So does animal print,” Yolanda said. We giggled as she turned down the street to my apartment. “Do you want me to go in with you?”
“No, I’m fine,” I said.
She nodded. “Okay, I think I’ll go over to Abigail’s and have her do my hair.” She ran her fingers through her perfectly coiffed blond mane. “Get ready for tonight, you know.”
I frowned. “What do you mean? What’s so important about tonight?”
Yolanda gave me a frightful and very disappointed look. “The editor from Doggie Day! Maggie, we need to impress! How else is the Wine and Bark going to score a spread in the magazine?”
“Why’s it so important to you?” I asked.
Yolanda gasped. “Doggie Day! Do you know what kind of readership they get?”
I was afraid to admit I didn’t. Dogs had always been more Rachel’s thing than my own. I’d never been bitten or anything that spooks most people about dogs, but I’d also never owned one or fallen in love like the clientele at the Wine and Bark had.
“Right, right,” I muttered. “Sorry. I…”
Yolanda waved a hand around. “You have a lot on your mind. I’ll call Max to make sure he can open the bar on time. But you have to get there as soon as your orientation is over. He can’t run the bar alone all night.” She gave me a meaningful glance. “Not if we want to make an impression.”
I got out of the car in front of the Casa Ensenada Apartments and ran all the way up the stairs to my front door. I jammed the key into the lock and ran around dumping a few favorite items into my duffel bag. Glancing at the hall clock, I realized with a jolt that I only had two hours left to pack, give my statement to Brad, and get over to Grunkly’s.
I hadn’t eaten all morning and my stomach growled as I raced around the room collecting my belongings. Hopefully the kitchen would serve appetizers during the staff orientation. At the very least some chips and salsa to get us in the Cabo San Lucas frame of mind!
I focused on clothes, figuring any cosmetic items I forgot to pack could likely be purchased onboard.
When I finished packing, it dawned on me that instead of waiting around for Brad to give him my statement, I should leave him a note and head out to Grunkly’s right away. Otherwise, I’d never make it to the orientation.
I sent a text to Brad’s mobile, but when he didn’t immediately confirm receipt I scribbled out a note and taped it to my front door.
I walked along the beach toward Grunkly’s house, fretting about Fran and Rachel until it felt like my blood pressure was high enough to make blood ooze out of my ears. In the distance, a man in uniform approached. My heart skipped a beat anticipating Brad, but then I noticed that the man’s gait was wrong. No. It wasn’t Brad.
My shoulders tightened and a sense of doom descended upon me as I realized the man was Officer Ellington.
As soon as he was within earshot he called out, “Miss Patterson, if I may have a word.” The look on his face was stern and even over the hum of the surf, I could hear the anger in his voice. I felt as if I’d suddenly been called to the principal’s office.
“Of course, Officer,” I said, as brightly as I could muster.
“I was expecting you at the station. I thought you were coming in to give your statement. Then when I stopped by your apartment, I saw the note. You’re heading out of town?”
He looked incredulous and I found myself inexplicably nervous. “I … oh … I was going to head to the police station, but then Officer Brooks told me that he would come by my apartment, but it was getting late and I…” Uh-oh, this is sounding all wrong. “My sister’s in the hospital,” I sputtered. “I had to check in on her.”
He snarled and indicated our surrounding. The water lapped the sand in a mocking reminder of how opposite the beach was to the hospital. “Right,” he muttered.
Anger flared inside me, and my blood buzzed in my ears.
What the heck was he insinuating? That I’d used my sister’s illness to get out of giving a statement?
“Look, I’m not avoiding you or avoiding giving my statement. I start a new job in a few—”
“A job? On that silly cruise ship? You think that’s more important than a murder investigation?”
His words were so full of venom, they winded me.
“I didn’t say it was more important, only that—”
“I know, I know,” he said, cutting me off. “All the girls of your generation are the same, only concerned with themselves.”
I didn’t reply. Ellington was the same generation as I was. He was baiting me, but I refused to bite.
“I found Fran this morning, dead in a pool of her own blood. I can’t tell you much more than that. I didn’t know her, I have no idea—”
“You didn’t know her?” Ellington interjected. “You fought with her just last night.”
“What? That’s not right.”
Ellington glared at me. “Isn’t it? You and she fought at the Wine and Bark. You threw a drink at her.”
My stomach burned and I was suddenly glad I hadn’t eaten for fear I’d retch right on Ellington’s department-issued steel-toed tactical boots.
“No!” I said. “That’s not what happened. I didn’t throw a drink on her. Fran spilled her wine. It was an accident.”
Ellington made a face, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. He removed a notepad from his breast pocket and said, “Recount for me exactly what happened.”
I told him about the wine tasting with Hendrick, how Yolanda and Fran had come into the bar and Hendrick had sent over a bottle of Fran’s favorite wine.
Ellington frowned. “Hendrick is the ex-boyfriend, huh?”
I nodded. “I suppose.”
“That’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it? Are you dating him?”
“What? No! Of course not. I only met him yesterday because Rachel’s in the hospital with salmonella.”
“Fran comes into the bar, sees you with her old beau, and you fight. You throw a drink at her. You realize Hendrick is still in love with her and she’s an obstacle. So you decide to take matters into your own hands. Kill the competition, is that it, Miss Patterson?”
“You’re being ridiculous!” I pushed past him. “I’ll give my statement to Officer Brooks. He doesn’t put words into my mouth.”
Ellington grabbed my arm as I passed. “I’ll put out a warrant for your arrest if you don’t cooperate.”
Rage burned my lungs and I cried out, “I am cooperating!”
He released my arm, but not without a snicker. “Running off on a cruise in the middle of a murder investigation is not cooperating.”
As soon as he said it, I knew it was true.
What had I been hoping? That I could present myself to my new job, ignore the fact that I’d found a woman murdered just this morning? Ignore the fact that my sister was in the hospital and needed me? Ignore everyone else’s needs and just satisfy myself?
Ellington was right.
I was being selfish.
Regret scorched my throat and I found it difficult to speak. “I want to help,” I squawked.
Ellington turned away from me and looked out toward the ocean. “Why were you working at the bar instead of your sister?”
“She’s in the hospital,” I said. “I told you that. Salmonella poisoning.”
Ellington chewed on his lip. “When did she set up the wine tasting with Verdant Vines? Who knew about it?”
“Wait a minute! Do you think Rachel was poisoned on purpose?”
Ellington sighed and rubbed at his face as if he was suddenly tired. “I don’t know. I’m going to get to the bottom of it, though. Fran was my friend.”
* * *
Although, Ellington’s aggressive behavior was now understandable, his admission had shocked me.
We’d parted, his words echoing in my head.
Farther down the beach, I spotted a couple walking two small dogs. The dogs were bouncing in and out of the surf as the man tossed a ball at them. I recognized the dogs first, which actually gave me a jolt.
What was happening to me? Since when did I notice dogs before people?
The couple was Max and Brenda. I hurried toward them, waving and calling out.
Brenda’s Chihuahua, Pee Wee, ran toward me, quickly followed by Buster, the beagle that Max walked. The dogs jumped to greet me, covering my khakis with mud.
“Get down,” Brenda admonished.
“It’s fine,” I said.
Max quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “Ah, they’re growing on you, huh, Mags?”
I buried my head in my hands. “I guess I have other things to worry about.”
Brenda put an arm around my shoulder. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Hey,” Max said. “Aren’t you supposed to be on that boat now? We saw a big group heading over, just a few minutes ago. It’s the opening party, or something, right?”
“It’s staff orientation. I can’t go, though. I have to stay in Pacific Cove … it’s…” Emotion overwhelmed me and I found I couldn’t finish the sentence.
Brenda rubbed my arm. “It’s okay, honey. You can talk to us. What’s wrong?” She paused. “Is Rachel alright?”
I brought them up to speed on my morning as we walked toward Grunkly’s house.
“I can’t believe it. Fran’s dead?” Max said.
“Well.” Brenda shrugged. “She really didn’t have that many friends, did she? Think about last night. Everyone seemed to have a reason to dislike her.”
“Disliking someone is not the same as murdering someone,” Max said.
“Abigail’s cousin Ronnie was at the hospital, visiting Rachel. Officer Ellington sort of suggested that perhaps Rachel was poisoned on purpose.”
Brenda’s eyes grew wide. “Oh my God. You’ve got to be kidding! Ronnie wouldn’t hurt a fly!”
Max’s body language changed: His shoulders squared and his chest puffed out. I remembered the flash of jealousy he’d had the night before when Brenda mentioned how cute she thought Ronnie was.
“You said yourself that Ronnie had a grudge against Fran,” Max said. “Because of the stolen logo, right?”
Brenda shuffled self-consciously. “That doesn’t mean he would kill her, or poison Rachel!”
“How well do you guys know Cornelia?” I asked.
“Who’s that?” Max asked. “I don’t know a Cornelia.”
Brenda’s eyes shifted toward the ocean and I noticed she didn’t answer me.
“Cornelia was Fran’s assistant, I think. Or rather, she worked at the store, Chic Chickie.”
Max shrugged. “I don’t know her.” He turned to Brenda. “Do you know her, honey?”
Brenda stooped to pick up the ball that Pee Wee had deposited at her feet, and avoided eye contact with us. “I know her.” She tossed the ball into the water. Pee Wee and Buster flew into the surf to retrieve it.
“I think she told Ellington that Fran and I had a fight last night,” I said.
“Why would she say that?” Brenda asked.
“I don’t know, but Ellington told me that’s what he heard and I think the only person he’s spoken to so far is Cornelia.”
“What about Yolanda?” Max asked. “She was with you when you found Fran, right?”
“Yes, but I don’t think she’s talked to him yet.” I shrugged. “I’m sure she’s hoping to give her statement to Sergeant Gottlieb.”
Brenda giggled. “I don’t blame her. Ellington can be such a cold fish.”
“I guess Ellington was friends with Fran,” I said.
Brenda made a face. “‘Friends’? I don’t think so. I heard he asked her out and she turned him down flat. But that was when she and Hendrick were together.”
“Ah, Hendrick, the scorned lover. What happened between them?” I asked.
Brenda shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Geraldine. She knows all the sordid details much better than I do.”
“So how do you know Cornelia?” I probed.
Brenda grimaced. “She’s come to see me about some business. I’m sorry, Maggie, but I can’t say any more than that.”
Brenda had her own law practice in town, Bradford and Blahnik. During the recession, she’d had to get creative and began selling designer shoes in order to keep her practice open.
“Don’t tell me she had a chicken slipper idea or something equally awful to sell you.”
Max snorted, but Brenda only shook her head.
“Did she come to see you for legal advice?” I asked.
Brenda pressed her lips together, which pretty much told me all I needed to know.
Chapter Seven
I walked the rest of the way to Grunkly’s in a complete state of agitation, fretting over Rachel and the fact that I’d have to skip out on my new job. Just how was I supposed to pay my rent? I still had a little savings, but without a regular income, the money would be gone fast.
I knocked on Grunkly’s door and waited the requisite time before pulling out my phone and dialing him. He never opened the door, so at this point I didn’t even know why I bothered knocking.
He picked up on the first ring. “Is that you at the door, Magpie?” Grunkly asked.
“Yes, it’s me. Are you all right? Can you get to the door?” I asked.
“Sure, but there’s a key under the mat,” he said. “Why don’t you just let yourself in.”
I hung up and dug the key out from under the mat. A surge of protectiveness overwhelmed me. Had someone poisoned Rachel on purpose? If so, was there any sense in Grunkly leaving his key under the front doormat? It didn’t seem the prudent thing to do.
I let myself inside and found my octogenarian great uncle in the living room, seated in his favorite easy chair with a Sudoku puzzle book in his lap. Surprisingly the TV was off. Grunkly was a racehorse owner and was addicted to races. I’d become accustomed to vying for his attention every time I came to visit.
I glanced at the black screen. “No race on?”
Grunkly shook his head. “McMann’s horse is racing, and he and I don’t speak ever since he cheated me on that stall fee.”
I climbed over the mountain of discarded electronics that Grunkly kept, just in case, and settled myself on the sofa. I never bothered ask him in case of what. I was sure he had detailed and individual reasons for retaining each and every item, but right now I didn’t have the time or the energy to try and talk him into de-cluttering.
“I have bad news, Grunkly. Rachel is in the hospital.”
My poor Grunkly paled and looked stricken, I immediately regretted blurting it out.
“She’s going to be fine. Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll be fine, but she got salmonella poisoning and she’s over at Pacific Cove General.”
“Oh, my poor darling!” He threw off his old ball cap and rustled his fingers through his thick white hair. “Let me comb my hair and we can get right over there for a visit.”
“No, no. I just came from there. She’s fine.”
“You just came from there?” Grunkly looked indignant. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have gone with you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t think. I thought she was being discharged.”
Grunkly was taking th
e news about Rachel rather hard and I hesitated to tell him more. If I told him about finding Fran or hinted about the idea that perhaps the salmonella poisoning could have been intentional, I feared it would put him into cardiac arrest.
“I have some good news,” I said, trying to brighten the mood.
Grunkly perked up. “Oh? What’s that?”
“I won’t be going on the cruise. I decided not to take the job.”
Grunkly squinted at me. “This is good news?”
“Uh … yes … I mean that … Well, I can come over and take care of you and stuff, because I won’t be gone.”
Grunkly wasn’t falling for it. “Why aren’t you going on the cruise? You need the job, Magpie. That’s what you told me. You were excited about it.” He studied me for a moment saying nothing.
“I need to keep the Wine and Bark open while Rachel’s in the hospital. She’s got some magazine editor ready to do a story and—”
Grunkly waved a hand around. “Let the editor come back next week, when Rachel’s out of the hospital.”
“I know. It’s just that—”
“You think Rachel’s stuff is more important than your own?” he asked.
“It’s not that.”
“You told me you needed the job, to make rent money,” he said. “Even though, you know, you can always come live with me. Great big bedroom in the back with an ocean view all for you!”
It seemed I’d had this same conversation with Grunkly almost every time I came to visit, the only problem was the thought of living in his cluttered home gave me palpitations.
I took a deep breath.
He frowned. “Does it have to do with that DelVecchio fellow?” Grunkly glanced around the room as if Gus was hiding somewhere between the stacks of papers and broken electronics.
“No—”
“Where is he today?” Grunkly asked. “Maybe you can bring him over again. That guy sure can cook. He was very nice, Maggie.” He paused and smiled. “And I think he liked you…”
Not too long ago Gus had come with to me to visit Grunkly and wound up making us an exquisite steak dinner. My mouth watered just thinking about it.
“Gus is in New York. He left last night on a red-eye. He went there to audition for one of those cooking shows.”
