Murder Served Hot

by Nancy Skopin

  “I don’t think so. You said you had invoice and check copies in the suitcase you brought into Stanley’s office. That implies that the original invoices and checks actually exist.”

  Archer’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times and he reflexively loosened the knot in his tie. I decided to wait him out.

  After a minute he shook his head and mumbled, “I can’t go to jail.”

  Excellent, I thought. “That’s not up to me,” I said, imagining Archer with a trophy wife who would soon have to learn to clip coupons. “You can tell me what happened or you can talk to Detective Faulkner. Your choice.”

  “You wouldn’t understand,” he sighed.

  “Let’s find out,” I said, waiting for his story to begin.

  “Erika is my third wife,” he said, not making eye contact with me as he spoke. “I still pay the other two alimony, and Erika is very demanding. I had to do something.”

  Sometimes my powers of deduction amaze even me.

  “So?” I said.

  “So I set up a dummy corporation using a P.O. Box.”

  “And you submitted fraudulent invoices.”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “When this comes out I’ll be ruined.”

  I ignored his anxiety and asked the question that had been haunting me. “Why did you choose Stanley Godard to do the audit?”

  “Because he worked alone. I didn’t think he’d be so thorough.”

  “And when he found out what you were doing, you had to keep him quiet.” I hoped the recorder was picking all of this up. It wouldn’t be admissible in court, but it would give Faulkner something to work with.

  “Yes,” Archer murmured.

  I waited. When he said nothing further, I prodded, “And?”

  Archer looked at me forlornly. “I didn’t have much left in the bank, so I submitted more invoices.”

  “For how much?”

  “Another hundred thousand. As soon as I got the money I called Godard for an appointment. I said I’d found the documents he was looking for.”

  “Did you offer him the whole hundred thousand?”

  “Fifty.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was outraged, almost apoplectic. Then someone knocked on the back door and he went to answer it.”

  This wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Archer was attempting to direct me back toward an unknown subject.

  “Then what happened?” I said.

  “I heard the shot. I was so terrified that I left the suitcase full of money on his desk and ran.”

  “Did you see who fired the shot?”

  “I really didn’t. I just ran out the front door.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I said. “I think you killed Stanley to keep him quiet, or hired someone to do it for you.”

  Archer mutely shook his head, then his eyes locked on mine. “I have fifty thousand left. It’s yours if you’ll give me that journal.”

  I got out of the Benz and returned to my car, where Buddy was waiting. I locked the doors, rolled up the windows, and cranked the engine.

  Archer was out of his car, waving his arms frantically, shouting, “Please! Please!”

  I almost ran over him trying to get out of the parking space. Buddy started barking and Archer fell silent as I pulled away.

  I called Faulkner on my way to Brooke’s condo.

  “Where the hell are you?” he said. “I’ve been calling you since eight!”

  “Sorry. I overslept. I’m on my way to Brooke’s. Can I give you the journal copy tomorrow?”

  “You’re a pain in the ass, Hunter.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  We disconnected and I called Jim. “I’m on my way,” I said.

  “Get anything out of Archer?”

  “Yes, but not what I wanted. He admitted to the embezzling, but insists he didn’t kill Stanley or hire someone else to do it.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Have you spotted anyone suspicious lurking around Brooke’s condo?”

  “Nope.”

  When I arrived at the Redwood Shores complex I gave Jim a copy of the identikit sketch and asked him to be at the San Mateo Garden Center at 9:00 tomorrow night, telling him about my plan for the evening. I hooked Buddy’s leash to his collar, collected my shoulder bag, and locked up the car.

  I dialed Brooke on my cell as we climbed the stairs. “I’m here,” I said.

  Robbyn opened the door when I knocked, and made a fuss over Buddy while I secured the deadbolt.

  I returned the original identikit picture to Brooke, poured myself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the kitchen island.

  “What’s on the agenda for today?” I asked.

  “I’m trying to decide what kind of flowers to order for Stanley’s funeral,” Brooke said. “I was originally thinking orchids, but the blooms only last a couple of weeks once they’re cut, and they last up to two months on a live plant. I hate to think of all those orchid plants losing their blooms. I could have the florist send enough live orchids to fill the chapel, but then what would I do with them afterwards? I already have a greenhouse full of orchids to take care of, and I don’t even know what they need. I can’t sell them. They were Stanley’s pride and joy. I guess I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.”

  “You could probably take a class on how to care for the orchids,” I offered. “And I’m sure there’s a lot of information available online. Tomorrow night, when we’re at the orchid club meeting, we can ask around and see if there’s somebody local who would be knowledgeable enough to tutor you.”

  Brooke’s face brightened. “That’s a wonderful idea. Honestly, Nikki, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” And she dissolved into tears.

  Robbyn put her arms around Brooke’s shoulders and I fetched the box of Kleenex. When the sobbing subsided I asked the location and time of the funeral service on Saturday. I went into Brooke’s bedroom, turned on her laptop, did a Google search, and started calling florists. The third one I called agreed to rent us a dozen large, potted orchid plants, which they would retrieve after the service. Problem solved.

  I hung up the phone and Brooke threw her arms around me and started sobbing all over again. I gently patted her back, resisting the urge to pull away.

  When Brooke’s tears had dried, she told me that Stanley’s family was flying in for the service on Saturday morning: both parents, a brother, and a sister. They would be staying at the Airport Hilton.

  “Do you think I should take them out to dinner after the funeral?” she asked.

  “Why don’t you wait and see how you feel,” I suggested.

  “You’re right, of course. It’s just that Stanley’s childhood is such a mystery to me.”

  “How long will they be in town?”

  “Just overnight. They’re leaving on Sunday.”

  “That does limit your window of opportunity.”

  Brooke needed groceries, so we all piled into my BMW and drove to Whole Foods on Hillsdale Boulevard. Robbyn sat in the back seat with Buddy and was subjected to a thorough face washing.

  I parked in the cool underground lot, cracked the windows, and locked the doors, telling Buddy we’d be back pretty soon.

  It took Brooke almost an hour to fill her cart because she hadn’t made a shopping list and had to go up and down every aisle. I wondered if she and Stanley had ever gone shopping together. She was driving me crazy, and I didn’t even have OCD.

  There were a few long-haired and bearded men in the store, but none of them matched the identikit sketch.

  As we rode down in the elevator I felt a prickly sensation on the back of my neck. It’s a feeling I’ve learned not to ignore. I threw my shoulder bag into th
e cart and pushed Brooke and Robbyn to the back of the elevator.

  “Get down,” I said.

  I kept the cart in front of me and unholstered the Ruger. The ride down to the garage took only seconds, but it seemed like hours before the doors slid open revealing the deserted basement vestibule. I could hear Buddy’s bark echoing throughout the underground garage.

  “Stay here,” I said to Brooke and Robbyn.

  I crouched low, hoping to make less of a target, holding the Ruger double-handed and aiming at the ground in front of me for safety’s sake. I quickly checked the stairs to see if anyone was lurking there before stepping through the glass doors into the garage.

  Buddy was still sounding off as I approached the car, revolving slowly as I walked, trying to look in all directions at once. I heard a car engine rumble to life and turned quickly to my right as an old orange VW van rattled toward the exit. I holstered the gun and took off running. I needed to catch up with that van and at least get the license plate number, but the garage was dimly lit and the van was already twenty yards away. I kept running until I hit the street, but by then the van was nowhere in sight. Crap!

  When I got back to the car Brooke and Robbyn had used my keys to unlock the trunk and were unloading groceries from the cart.

  “I told you to stay in the elevator,” I said.

  “But you didn’t tell us why,” said Robbyn.

  “I didn’t know why,” I snapped.

  I took a minute to survey the outside of my BMW. Someone had used a crowbar to try and wrench open the passenger side door. “Shit,” I said. “Give me my keys.”

  Robbyn tossed the keys to me and I unlocked the car, hooked Buddy to his leash, and let him out. I tried to calm him down, but his whole body was vibrating and his hackles were still up.

  “It was the guy in the van,” I said. “He tried to break into my car. Must be pretty desperate if he was willing to face Buddy.”

  It suddenly occurred to me that if the van guy was the killer, he had a gun. My knees buckled as I realized what might have happened to Buddy if he had gotten the car door open. I sat down hard on the pavement and hugged my dog, heart pounding in my chest. Buddy normally likes hugs, but he struggled away from me and started off toward where the van had been parked. I grabbed the leash and he dragged me a few feet.

  “Buddy, stay,” I said.

  He turned to look at me, furrowed his brow, and whimpered. He wanted to follow the scent.

  “He’s gone,” I said. “Get back in the car, please.”

  Brooke and Robbyn had returned the cart to the vestibule and were standing off to the side of the car, staring at me.

  Finally Brooke spoke. “How did you know he was here?”

  I got Buddy into the backseat and turned to face them. “I didn’t,” I said. “I just had a bad feeling, and then I heard Buddy barking.”

  Robbyn tilted her head to the side. “So, you’re a PI and a psychic?”

  “Nothing like that,” I said. “I just get feelings sometimes, and I’ve learned to pay attention to them.”

  We all climbed into the car, and I made sure the doors were locked and the windows rolled up before we took off.

  Driving back to Redwood Shores I thought about the timing of the attempted break-in. It seemed significant to me that the first time the crazy-eyed van guy came after the journal was the same day I confronted Archer. I replayed the conversation in my head, thinking through the process he had used to embezzle.

  I don’t know much about accounting, but when I was working security for a department store chain, part of my job was to keep an eye on the flow of money going out of the store, and I knew that all invoices had to be signed off on by the purchasing manager. What if Archer had a partner within the research firm? What if the guy in the van worked in the purchasing department? Of course, that wouldn’t explain the theft of the orchid, but it might explain why no one had come after the journal until now.

  Chapter 24

  When we arrived at Brooke’s condo I escorted the two women upstairs and, after a quick search of the apartment, left them with Buddy while I made three trips to and from the car lugging bags of groceries.

  Once we were all safely locked inside I called Faulkner and recapped my conversation with Archer that morning and the attempted break-in at the Whole Foods parking garage. He was not happy.

  “Stay away from Archer,” he said. “You may have compromised any case we have against him.”

  “Don’t you even want to hear the tape? He confessed to embezzling from his employer!”

  “He confessed to you.”

  “It’s on tape!”

  “It’s inadmissible. I believe he’s been skimming from his employer, but I don’t think he’s a killer. I guess I might as well check out the recording, though. I’ll meet you at your office tomorrow at eight. And I want that damn journal.”

  “You can’t have the journal yet. But I made you a copy.”

  “I could charge you with obstruction, you know.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not going to do that. Besides, I only need it for a few more days. I’m going to a meeting of Stanley’s orchid club tomorrow night. Hey, you want to come?”

  “That’s not a bad idea.”

  I gave Faulkner the address and directions, and told him I’d meet him there at 7:45. I didn’t mention that Brooke and Robbyn were coming and that I was counting on him to protect Brooke while I spoke to the club members.

  I was about to hang up when I remembered something else Archer had said.

  “Archer said he had fifty thousand dollars in the suitcase he took into Stanley’s office.”

  “So?”

  “Did the forensics team find that much burned money in the remains of Stanley’s office?”

  “There were some charred bills recovered, but I don’t think it could have been that much.”

  So maybe Archer had lied to me about how much money he’d left behind, but why would he do that unless he was hiding something else?

  Brooke, Robbyn, and I spent the rest of the day going over the details for Stanley’s funeral. As Brooke suspected, he had planned the whole affair in advance. It was sad to think that Stanley didn’t even trust the details of his own passing to someone else, and remarkable to realize he’d trusted Brooke enough to commit to spending the rest of his life with her. He must have been over-the-moon in love with her.

  Jim called my cell from the parking lot of Brooke’s complex at 8:45, saying he was ready to take over. I thanked him again, relayed the events of the day, and told him I’d be flaunting the journal on the way to my car yet again, hoping to draw attention away from Brooke.

  I bid the ladies good night and made sure they had Jim’s cell number before exiting the condo with Buddy. As I waited for the sound of the deadbolt, I looked up J.V. Trusty’s home number on my smartphone. Buddy and I made our way down the stairs and I pocketed the phone so I’d have one hand free for the leash and the journal, and the other free for the gun in my fanny pack holster.

  I ignored Jim’s car as we strolled to my Bimmer, holding the journal in my left hand, the loop from Buddy’s leash around my wrist. We got to the car without being approached by any crazy-eyed van drivers, but the lot was dark, and he could easily have been out there somewhere, watching.

  Once we were locked in the car I pulled the cell from my pocket, pushed the send button to dial J.V., and set the phone on speaker mode.

  “Trusty and Associates,” J.V. answered.

  “Hey, J.V. It’s Nikki.”

  “Hello, Nicoli! How are you? And how’s Buddy?”

  “We’re both fine. How are you and Scott doing?”

  “Better every day. Thank you for asking. So, what’s going on?”

  “What? I can’t call j
ust to check in on two of my favorite people?”

  “Of course you can. Now spill it.”

  I laughed. Being a PI, naturally J.V. had developed a sixth sense about when something was amiss.

  “It’s Nina. She’s back in the States, and she’s killed two more men, that we know of.”

  “Holy shit! I thought she was overseas.”

  “She was, but not anymore. I’m involved in a case right now that’s taking up my days, and I have my regular clients to see to at night, but when I get this day-job resolved I was wondering if you and Scott would like me to try and track her down, and put an end to her rampage.”

  J.V. was silent for a long moment, and I wondered if I’d lost the connection.

  “Are you still there?”

  “I’m here. I was just thinking. You’ve already done what Scott hired you to do. You identified his mother’s killer and, to some extent, determined why she chose to do away with his mom. I don’t want you to put yourself in danger, Nicoli. The police can take it from here. They have more resources than you do.”

  “I appreciate that, J.V., I really do. Maybe you should check with Scott in the morning and see if he agrees with that decision. You’re right that the police have more resources than I do, but I’m more flexible than they are, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know exactly what you mean. They never would have caught her in the act the way you did. But that doesn’t mean you should risk your life trying to stop her.”

  “Yeah, I know. Call me after you talk to Scott.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you for letting me know that she’s back.”

  We ended the call and I focused on driving for the remaining few minutes it took to get to the marina.

  Chapter 25

  Buddy and I strolled around the grounds before going to the office. Once again I hadn’t seen Bill’s Mustang in the lot, but I never knew when he might be driving an unmarked car. I fed Buddy and gave him fresh water, then called Bill’s cell.