White Colander Crime

by Victoria Hamilton

  Mabel patted Jaymie’s arm. “I would do that for a friend, too. I don’t know which would be worse, losing your child, or knowing that your child committed murder.”

  “Mabel, would your daughter talk to me about Shelby, do you think?”

  “She’s pretty upset,” Mabel said. “I don’t want her hurt.”

  “You know me. I’ll be careful.”

  “How about I ask her? My husband is already on his way to the airport, and they’ll be back by dinnertime.”

  “Can I call later?”

  “Let me give her your number and have her call you.”

  Jaymie had to be satisfied with that, and went upstairs to lock up her purse and hang her coat on a hook. Someone had done up a chore chart and it hung on the volunteer-lounge wall. Jaymie checked it to see what needed doing, and tackled the job no one else wanted, the volunteer bathroom and kitchen area. She was in a mood to scrub.

  She was in the depths of the toilet when she heard a commotion downstairs. Heidi’s light tinkling laughter rang up the stairs and through the door. It made her smile.

  A light tread echoed up the stairs, and Heidi’s voice rang out, “Jaymsie? Where are you?”

  “In here, the bathroom.” Jaymie swished the brush around the toilet bowl one final time and flushed. She washed her hands and turned as Heidi bounced in. She had to smile; her friend had dressed for cleaning like a prototypical nineteen-fifties housewife in a dress, pearls, and with her long blond hair done up and wrapped in a kerchief. She probably imagined dashing about, feather duster in hand.

  “What are you doing?” Heidi asked, eyeing the bathroom with distrust.

  It was untouched from its days as a serviceable but not glamorous portal of family hygiene. In other words, the fixtures were sturdy and white, but from its years as a boarding house and then flophouse, they were scratched and stained with rust, iron and other mineral deposits from the hard well water that served the house. “I’m cleaning the volunteer bathroom.”

  “Why don’t the volunteers clean it themselves?”

  “I am a volunteer, and I’m cleaning it.”

  “Oh. You’ve already cleaned it?” She stepped over and stared down into the toilet, eyeing the orangey stains. “Eew!” She wrinkled her nose.

  “It’s clean, even though it doesn’t look it. Now I just have to wash the floor.”

  “Let me do that! I want to help, but I just don’t know where to start.”

  Jaymie showed her where the bucket and cleanser was, and left her at it while she went and cleaned up the coffee break area, rinsing out the kettle and descaling it, and wiping down the cabinets. After half an hour she wondered, what could be keeping Heidi? It was just a six-by-six-foot bathroom; the floor should have taken ten minutes at the very most. She poked her head around the corner and saw Heidi on her hands and knees. “What are you doing?”

  She looked over her shoulder. “Cleaning the floor!”

  Jaymie gawked over her shoulder. Heidi had on rubber gloves and was scrubbing with a brush. She had worked her way down the floor and had systematically erased a three-foot length of yellowish paste wax gunk that had gathered and melded with dirt along the edge of the bathtub. “Wow! Heidi, you have a hidden talent. Who knew?”

  She sat back on her haunches, her fluffy skirt pooling around her, and gazed up at Jaymie, blinking in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never been able to get that stuff off the floor. You do know this is just the volunteer bathroom for now, though, right? The public doesn’t see this. I think we should utilize your talents in the parts of the house where they can be appreciated.”

  When they had both finished their tasks, though, Heidi had had enough of cleaning. They descended to Jaymie’s kitchen, since she wanted to check to make sure that everything was all right for the next day. As she rearranged the displays, Heidi sat at the table by the window, drawing the curtain open and gazing out on the darkening day, dwindling toward a five p.m. mid-December sunset.

  “Are you and Joel spending Christmas with your parents or his?” Jaymie said over her shoulder.

  “Neither,” Heidi said.

  “What are you doing?”

  “We’re going to Oahu for a week.”

  Jaymie turned and stared at Heidi’s profile. She sternly reminded herself not to judge. One person’s happiness would never be another, as Jane Austen had noted hundreds of years ago. Jaymie couldn’t imagine not spending Christmas with family, but Heidi and Joel had their own ideas. Maybe they just needed a break from the drama their engagement had stirred in both camps. “I hope you enjoy yourselves.”

  “Me, too. I love Hawaii.” Heidi turned away from the window. “What was it you wanted with Glenn Brennan?”

  “Ah, yes. I’m glad you reminded me.” Jaymie sat down opposite her friend and told her what she was doing. “So in my effort to track down whomever Shelby spent time with, Glenn has become important. Can you think of any reason to call him or text him?”

  Heidi made a face. “I don’t like him, and I think he knows I don’t like him. Joel was happy when he heard Glenn got fired for something he posted online. I asked if he was the one who turned him in—Joel didn’t like the guy’s tactics—but he says no, that he didn’t even know about it until some guy he works with passed the news along. It was stuff about some girl.”

  Jaymie’s heart thudded. “About a girl? Could it have been something about Shelby?”

  Heidi’s bright blue eyes widened. “I don’t know, but maybe! Is that important?”

  Jaymie thought that it could be. It became vitally important to track the guy down, something she’d try to do online. But she wasn’t about to share her line of thinking with Heidi. “I don’t know. Right now, I just want a reason to talk to him.”

  Heidi smirked. “I could say I wanted to set him up with my best friend!”

  Jaymie smiled, surprised as she often was by Heidi’s quirky sense of humor. “You’d have to pick between me or Bernie, then, right?”

  “Bernie would have him on the ground in a headlock in one minute if he talked to her like he talked to Shelby.”

  “Maybe some other pretext. Though I don’t need a pretext, do I? Is he kind of a media-hound type, do you think?”

  “Uh-huh, especially if he thinks there’ll be some opportunity to talk about himself. Honest to gosh, he’s worse than Joel, and Joel does like to talk about himself.”

  “Then can you text Glenn and tell him you have a friend writing a story about the tragedy, and that I’d like to talk to him as someone who knew Shelby? Do you think he’d talk to me, or would it scare him away?”

  Heidi paused, frowned but then nodded. “I think he would talk to you. He’d see himself as involved in something big. And I’ll say it’s a favor to me; he was sucking up to me pretty hard.”

  “I’ll bet he was. So you’ll do it?”

  Heidi took out her phone, scanned through her numbers, chewed on her lip then texted something. “I don’t have his number, but Joel does. I’d want Joel to know what I’m doing anyway. We promised not to go behind each other’s backs.” They chatted for a few more minutes, then her phone chimed. She got the number and texted Brennan, adding a smiley face after every phrase. She and Jaymie chatted for just a few more minutes when Heidi’s cell phone chimed again. Heidi read the message and looked up, an expression of mystification on her smooth face. “He says he’d love to talk to you. He says that he wants the public to know the real Shelby Fretter.”

  Fourteen

  HEIDI HEADED HOME and Jaymie texted Glenn Brennan. He responded immediately, saying he’d meet her for dinner at Ambrosio at six. It was dark by five when she got home. With only an hour to spare before meeting Brennan, she hustled, letting Hoppy out for an abbreviated piddle run, and filling the animals’ food bowls. She dressed in good wool slacks and a pretty sweater, s
wept her hair up in a chignon, all while she tried to figure out how to broach the subject of his behavior toward Shelby and what happened after their dates. She couldn’t think what to say, so she’d have to rely on inspiration.

  As she let her old van warm up, she remembered that the last time she was at Ambrosio it was for a difficult and uncomfortable dinner with her parents, Daniel and his parents. His mother had tried to sabotage Jaymie from the beginning out of a desire to keep him close to Phoenix, where they lived and where Daniel’s business was headquartered. She felt like she had dodged a bullet when they broke up.

  She drove out of town and down the highway thinking of Daniel and their doomed relationship, which made her think of Jakob. With Daniel out of her life, her head and heart were clear. She hoped that her next romantic endeavor would end with true love. But she couldn’t think of Jakob right that minute, or she’d start float-walking again, and that was not appropriate for the hard-hitting reporter she was supposed to be.

  She pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, locked the van and walked carefully across the icy asphalt in her best boots, the ones with very little tread. Just then a salt truck roared past on the highway, so maybe it would be a little less icy when she headed home. Salt, though not the only product used to deice, was by far the cheapest and most readily available, and so was both the bane and blessing of a Michiganian’s existence. It destroyed car body work, wreaked havoc with good suede and leather boots and yet saved countless lives by ridding the roads of ice. She’d rather have the lives than the boots.

  Ambrosio was warm and golden in this holiday season, decorated with pine boughs and gilded ornaments, the big windows curtained in gold drapes and lit with twinkle lights. The competing scents were of good wine, spices, roasted meat and perfume. She hung her coat in the cloakroom and stood at the entrance, not sure what Glenn Brennan looked like. There was one lone man at an intimate table for two over in the corner by a gold Christmas tree. The best tables, those by the fireplace and windows, were already taken, but he had chosen well for an intimate chat.

  She gave Glenn’s name to the host and he guided her to the table in the corner; she had guessed correctly. Brennan, to his credit, set down his rye and cola and stood as she followed the maître d’ over. But he immediately lost those politeness points as his eyes clouded with disappointment. She was not his type. She knew that, based on Heidi and Shelby’s svelte figures and blond hair, but still, the guy could have been a little more discreet about his chagrin. She was not there on a blind date, after all; this was a news story and she (supposedly) a reporter.

  “Mr. Brennan, I’m Jaymie Leighton. How are you?” she said, putting out her hand.

  “Just Glenn,” he said.

  As they shook hands the waiter came over with the wine list, which she waved off, saying, “We’ll be on separate checks. Just the menu, please. No wine for me.”

  “Don’t you have an expense account?” he asked. “You asked for the meeting; I thought you’d be paying.”

  That explained why he had chosen the most expensive restaurant locally, and why he was consuming drinks at such a rate. There was already an empty glass in front of him as he worked on a fresh one. He was a smooth-looking fellow in a navy sport coat and slacks, a white shirt open at the collar, and a gold signet ring on his pinkie, as well as a gold chain bracelet.

  “I’m a freelancer, not a staff member,” she said. “No expense account.”

  “Well then, you can write the whole dinner off on your taxes, right?”

  “Quite frankly, I don’t even know if you’ll have anything of value to tell me, Glenn.” He looked like the kind of guy who would see that as a challenge.

  He tapped his fingers on the table as the waiter brought them menus. Jaymie didn’t want to eat with this man, but it would not be the most uncomfortable dinner she had ever had at Ambrosio, as she had been reflecting on during her drive. She glanced at the menu, decided on the soup and salad combo, then set the menu aside, mindful of her mission. She watched him as he scanned the list of choices. Like Joel, he was fortyish. He had smooth skin, dark hair brushed into a self-conscious wave and shiny with hair gel. His full mouth had a petulant look, turned down at the corners. He tapped his fingers constantly.

  He frowned down at something, but didn’t seem focused on the food list he held. After a moment he glanced up at her. “Jaymie Leighton. Why is your name so familiar to me?” He squinted, stared at her across the table and snapped his fingers. “Wait a sec. You’re the girl Joel Anderson was living with, right?”

  “I am,” she said, trying to keep from gritting her teeth. It had been a year since Joel dumped her and she was most definitely over it, but Brennan’s manner was frankly disbelieving and he was giving her the once-over again. It was irritating, but she did her best not to assume what he was thinking.

  “You are not what I pictured when Joel talked about you.”

  Aaand . . . there it was.

  “And you’re friends with Heidi Lockland, your replacement?”

  “I am.”

  He went back to studying the menu. The waiter came back and took their orders; a bottle of wine and the salmon Wellington for him, just the soup and salad for her. He gathered the menus and departed.

  “Heidi tells me you went out with Shelby Fretter a few times. How did you meet?”

  “Dating website.”

  That was surprising. “Did you choose her or did she choose you?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  She shrugged.

  “As a matter of fact, she chose me,” he said, with a smirk. “She was tired of dating losers and bozos like that kid Cody, the one who killed her.”

  “Did you know about Cody at the time, that she was dating him, too?”

  “Of course not, but it’s all over the news now.”

  “Did you know she was dating others, even if you didn’t know who they were?”

  “I figured. She was gorgeous. Chicks like that don’t stick to one guy for long. That’s what I keep telling Joel. Heidi will get bored with him and move on soon enough.”

  Maybe to him, his manner seemed to suggest. The penny dropped. That was why he so readily agreed to meet with her; he was trying to curry favor with Heidi. That was good. He was likely to not suspect her line of questions, since he was so wholly consumed with himself.

  “So it didn’t bother you that she was dating others?”

  “Why would it? So was I. We only went out a few times, for crying out loud.”

  “As a salesman, you’re accustomed to making sound and rapid judgments on people.” Flattery will get you everywhere with certain kinds of people, Jaymie knew. “What was she like? I’ve been trying to get an idea of her personality, but it’s a little difficult.”

  He shifted in his seat, toying with his glass and looking pensive. “That’s what I said to Heidi. I want people to know the real Shelby Fretter, not the sweetie pie she pretended to be. She was moody as hell. If I was a few minutes late picking her up, she’d do this not-speaking-to-me routine. And that was after only a couple of dates.”

  “Did it bother you?”

  “Of course. You women are all alike, you know. Men are all different, but every woman I’ve ever met has been moody and possessive. Look at another girl in a date’s presence and she gets all crazy and gripes at you.”

  Translated, that meant he liked to ogle other women while out on a date and not be called on it. She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and tried not to judge. Stay impartial. I’m a reporter, I’m a reporter, she made herself repeat in her thoughts. “Did you like her?”

  “Sure.” He sat back and crossed one leg over the other, taking a gulp of his drink. “She was easy on the eyes and bright enough to know how to behave, but not so bright she fancied herself smarter than me, you know?”

  “She worked for a headhunting
agency, right?”

  He smirked. “That’s what Delaney wants to call it.”

  “What do you mean? What else is it?”

  “What isn’t it? The guy’s into everything. I told you, I met her through a dating site. A dating site,” he said, with heavy emphasis, leaning toward her across the table.

  What was he trying to say? “Do you mean the dating site is Delaney Meadows’ business? And you emphasized dating . . . Are you calling it something else? Like an escort service or something?”

  “You didn’t hear it from me,” he said, dropping a heavy wink.

  “Did you pay to go out with Shelby?”

  “No way! I’ve never paid in my life. Others might have, but I sure didn’t pay her.”

  That was a little confusing. “Glenn, the site is either a dating site or an escort agency; it can’t be both.”

  “Look, I’ll write it down and you have a look.” He wrote down a URL on the back of a business card and slid it across the table to her. “I’m just sayin’ . . . it seems odd. For one thing, guys pay to join the site and women don’t. What does that tell you?”

  “That’s odd. So you paid to join the site?”

  He shrugged. “They had photos of gorgeous girls, all local!”

  “Did you date anyone else from the site?”

  “A couple, both beautiful. Look, why are you asking all this crap? I thought this was about Shelby.”

  “You met her on the site, right? So I’m just covering every aspect of her life.”

  “Okay, I get it.”

  “Why did you stop going out with her?”

  “She was too much effort; moody, bitchy and sarcastic. She thought I didn’t get her little quips, but I’m no idiot.”

  That was debatable. She leaned forward and smiled across the table at him. “You have such a very unique way of putting things.”