The Dead-End Job Mysteries Box Set 1

by Elaine Viets

  Then she found one other thing: an application for a home-equity credit line on Millicent’s home. She’d mortgaged her house to front this order. Helen had Millicent’s motive for murder.

  She put the file back, then pulled it out again and wiped it with a clean cloth. If the cops arrested Millicent for murder, she didn’t want her prints on the papers. Next she wiped down the file cabinet. She hoped Windex killed fingerprints.

  “Good!” Millicent was standing in the doorway. “This office needs dusting. I’m glad you’re doing it.”

  “I’ll stay back here for a bit,” Helen said. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid she’d slide onto the floor. “Yell if you need me out front.”

  As soon as Millicent went back to work, Helen called Jeff. There was nothing odd about that. Bridal salons and wedding planners talked constantly. Besides, Jeff was so soothing and sensitive.

  “Oh, my God, Helen, are you all right? Did you survive that horrible, horrible day?”

  “I’m fine, Jeff,” Helen said. But she couldn’t keep the weariness from her voice. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

  “That poor family.”

  Helen could see Jeff’s boyish face. Even his freckles would seem sympathetic. “I feel so bad for them,” he said. “When I came home, I told my partner, Andy, don’t expect me to cook for you tonight, because I am wiped out. Andy called for Chinese takeout and then he rubbed my feet. I hope your honey did something special for you.”

  “Very special,” Helen said. “He made sure I went out and had a few drinks.”

  I’m not lying, she thought. After I met up with Phil’s almost ex-wife, I ran out and got plastered.

  “Aren’t we lucky? Both of us?”

  “Yeah, Jeff, real lucky. I’ve been wondering about something ever since the police questioned me.”

  “How long did they keep you there, Helen? The police let me leave about two.”

  “Till five o’clock.”

  “That’s terrible. I made the calls about the reception and then I gave that cute Detective McIntyre my name and phone number. Don’t get me wrong, Andy’s a keeper, but the cop was a hunk-a-rama. His mustache is like a little pet.”

  Jeff’s voice became confiding. “You do know the family canceled the reception?”

  “That must have cost a fortune,” Helen said.

  “One-ninety a plate for four hundred people. The family will have to eat all of it.”

  Helen saw Desiree, Luke, and Brendan stuffing down hundreds of dinners.

  “I mean the cost, not the food,” Jeff said. “They wanted to donate the food to a homeless shelter, but the hotel insurance and the health department regulations wouldn’t allow it.

  “Still, canceling that reception was the right thing to do. They couldn’t be dining and dancing with that poor woman murdered.”

  “One-ninety a person,” Helen said. “You must be some planner. What were you serving for a dollar ninety—peanut butter? My wedding buffet was fifteen a person almost twenty years ago.”

  “You’re such a kidder,” Jeff said. “You know it’s a hundred and ninety dollars a person.”

  Helen did the math. The reception dinner would come to almost eighty thousand dollars with taxes and tips. That would buy a nice condo.

  “I know some people think that’s a lot of money,” Jeff said.

  Like me, Helen thought. Nearly six years’ salary for one dinner.

  “But they don’t understand. Desiree is a princess and a royal wedding must have a feast. It’s expected in their position.”

  Poor Desiree. A princess could not have a private life.

  A few notes of the Wedding March chimed in the background. “Oops,” Jeff said. “Here comes another bride. Gotta go.”

  “Wait! Jeff! Do you know who locked the church Friday night and opened it Saturday morning?”

  “I know Kiki had the key. She paid some huge deposit for it. She said she had to go back there for a little something after the rehearsal dinner.”

  Yeah, Helen thought. Little Jason.

  “I assumed she’d lock up after that. She was going to send someone to open the church for me at six a.m. I found the door open when I got there.”

  There was a loud silence.

  “Helen, do you think it was open all night?”

  “I do,” she said.

  One call down, one question answered. But before Helen could do more investigating, she had to deal with more customers. Millicent was caught up in the bridal chaos. She even smiled when Cassie came in, towing a short, shy woman.

  “This is my Aunt Nita!!” Cassie said. “She wants to see my dream dress. Nita’s like my second mom. I couldn’t buy it unless she approved.”

  Helen hauled the wedding gown back to the dressing room one more time. Maybe she should just leave it there, Cassie was in so often showing it off.

  “Aunt Nita loves it!!” Cassie said, when she came out of the dressing room. Aunt Nita nodded and smiled, but stayed silent. “I just have to show my dream dress to one more person!!” And she was out the door, Aunt Nita obediently following.

  “Her dream dress is turning into my nightmare,” Helen said.

  “She’ll buy,” Millicent said.

  It was another hour before Helen was free to call the Shakespeare Playhouse office.

  “We can always use volunteers,” said the woman who answered the phone. “In fact, could you usher this evening?”

  Helen was startled. “So soon? Well, uh—”

  “If you can’t, we’ll try to find someone else. We’ve had two ushers call in sick.”

  “No, of course, I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Wear a black skirt or pants and a white blouse. Be here at six.”

  Helen checked the time: twelve forty-five. Perfect. She called the law offices of the bride’s father. “Could I speak to Donna Sue Hawser?”

  She was transferred twice before she heard, “Donna Sue here.”

  “My name is Helen Hawthorne. I saw you last night at the theater. I just wanted to tell you that you were terrific as the queen.”

  “Really? Why that’s so nice. But how did you get my number?”

  “From Desiree.” It was only a little lie.

  Helen waited for the telltale silence, but there wasn’t any. Donna Sue apparently liked the bride. “Well, wasn’t that sweet? That poor little thing. There she is, her mother just buried, and she took time to compliment me.”

  That wasn’t quite how it went, but Helen didn’t straighten her out. “I was so impressed, I’m volunteering. I’m ushering tonight.”

  “Good. Although with Luke out of the show, we may not get the crowd we had last night. So what can I do for you?”

  Helen took a deep breath. This was the big lie. “I talked with Desiree and Luke the other night. They asked me to look into their mother’s death.”

  Well, they had.

  “Isn’t Luke the greatest actor?”

  “Yes,” Helen said, glad to be telling the truth again. “I wondered if I could come talk to you.”

  “Are you like a private detective or something?”

  “Yes,” Helen said. She was something, all right.

  “And you’re definitely helping Desiree?”

  “Trying to,” Helen said.

  “Well, I’m in favor of that. I think what her father did is rotten. Why don’t you meet me in half an hour at the office? We can talk in the conference room. He’ll be out until two thirty.”

  Helen hung up. That was one strange conversation.

  The office of Shenrad and Gandolf, known to insiders as Shag and Gonef, looked like a men’s club with filing cabinets. Helen wondered what the attorneys told the decorator when they ordered dark wood and wing chairs: “I want a law office that looks so successful I can charge four hundred an hour.”

  Donna Sue was about ten years older than she’d seemed onstage: fifty-something with thick dark hair going gray and good cheekbones. She’d been heavily made up fo
r the play. Today she wore only a little lipstick. Her gray eyes were startling. Her skin was acne scarred, the occupational hazard of stage makeup.

  Helen poured on the praise. “You were a brave queen. That was a nice bit with the lace handkerchief. You were good.”

  “Thanks,” Donna Sue said. “Excuse the salad. This is my lunch hour.” Helen’s stomach growled. This interview and an energy bar were her lunch.

  “I’m proud to be part of the production,” Donna Sue said. “But it won’t be the same without Luke. He’s special. He left to do that movie with Michael Mann. Some people get all the breaks.”

  “You didn’t,” Helen said. “You’re good enough for New York.”

  Donna Sue colored with pleasure. “I used to think so. But I fell in love with a lawyer in Lauderdale. I put him through school and he dumped me. The old story. You can’t go to New York with two kids. I’m getting back to acting now that my youngest is in college.

  “I’m sure you didn’t come to hear about me. I want to be up-front with you. I’m leaving here. I’ve got a better job. I want to help that poor little girl. She’s always been nice to me, unlike some people I could name. It’s so unfair. She’s his daughter, after all. She can’t help who her mother is.”

  Helen began verbally feeling around. “I was at the wedding. I found her mother’s body at the church.”

  Donna Sue’s eyes grew wide. “You did?” She lowered her voice. “Was it horrible? Was there lots of blood?”

  “Kiki didn’t look bad,” Helen said. “She was definitely dead and she wasn’t prettied up like at a funeral parlor, but she wasn’t horrible.”

  Helen saw that rigid corpse again, the clipped claws reaching for her, and shuddered.

  “Are you cold?” Donna Sue said. “I swear the men in this office turn the air-conditioning down till it’s a meat locker.”

  “No,” Helen said. “I lied. There wasn’t any blood, but finding her was still awful. It makes me shiver just thinking about it. The day before Kiki had been so alive.”

  “And driving everyone crazy.”

  “You knew her?” Helen said.

  “I knew she called Mr. Shenrad twenty times a day and chewed him out,” Donna Sue said. “He had his new wife screaming at him on line one and his old wife yelling at him on line two.”

  “What was his new wife screaming about?” Helen wondered if Donna Sue would hesitate to reveal inner-office secrets.

  “Money,” Donna Sue said. She must really be ticked at Brendan. “Shannon, his new wife, didn’t get enough. She didn’t get enough of something else, either, if you ask me. Brendan fired the pool service a couple of months ago. Said the guy didn’t need to come to his house twice a week. Shannon came here nearly hysterical. You could hear them arguing all over the office.”

  My, my. Brendan had himself a regular soap opera.

  Donna Sue had a Shakespearean interest in murder. “Was anyone around when you found the body? Did people scream and faint?” Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

  “The whole wedding party was there,” Helen said. “The bride, the groom, Mr. Shenrad. Everyone was screaming. I felt so sorry for Mr. Shenrad. It must have been a terrible shock.”

  “Are you kidding?” Donna Sue said. “He practically did cartwheels around this office.”

  “I know Kiki’s death saved him a bundle,” Helen said. “And he gave her a lot of money to get free.”

  “He owed her, you ask me,” Donna Sue said. “He left Kiki for a trophy wife twenty years younger. He gave Kiki a big settlement and the house. But it wasn’t just the divorce. Brendan has been teetering on the verge of bankruptcy for months. I was afraid he’d close the office with no warning. That’s when I started looking. Friday’s my last day, and good riddance.”

  “Brendan has money trouble?” Helen asked. “How did that happen? I thought lawyers were money machines.” She thought she’d get more information playing dumb.

  “They are,” Donna Sue said. “Especially class-action lawyers like him. But he spends it as fast as he makes it. Private jet, a yacht, a shooting lodge in North Carolina. All the lawyer toys plus an expensive young wife. The yacht’s for sale now, if you have a spare million.”

  “I don’t get my commission money until Friday,” Helen said.

  Donna Sue laughed. “Brendan was doing okay until three months ago, when he lost this big securities case. He thought it was a sure-bet win. He’d spent several million lining up clients and running ads on TV. You know the kind.”

  She intoned: “If you’ve been ripped off by your brokerage firm, we can help. Call 1-800—”

  Donna Sue went back to her regular voice. “He needed money and Kiki was driving him to bankruptcy. On top of all he’d shelled out for the settlement, he agreed to pay half his daughter’s wedding expenses. He expected the wedding to cost about two hundred thousand, but Kiki ran the bills past three hundred thousand dollars, with no end in sight.

  “Kiki signed for everything for that wedding. All the bills. Florist, hotel, limos, you name it. The two of them were supposed to split the cost, but her signature was on the receipts. Now Brendan says there’s nothing in writing, so Kiki’s estate will have to pick up the whole wedding tab.”

  Helen was shocked. “But the estate goes to Desiree. That’s his daughter’s money. He’s making her pay for her own wedding.”

  “I think it’s lousy,” Donna Sue said. “He says Desiree can afford it. I say he should pay. A man shouldn’t abandon his family.”

  Helen suspected Donna Sue’s ex had abandoned her, and that’s why she felt sorry for Desiree.

  Helen sneaked a look at her watch. It was two fifteen. She wanted to be out before Brendan came back. “Listen, I know this sounds crazy, but do you think there’s any chance Kiki and Brendan might have gotten back together?”

  “I don’t think it’s crazy at all,” Donna Sue said. “A couple of times I accidentally picked up the wrong line, and I’d hear him talking real soft and she was being really sweet. Then next time they’d be screaming at each other. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he married her or killed her, either one.

  “I see a lot of couples like that in the theater. They’re at each other’s throats one minute, lovey-dovey the next. They get off on the drama. Me, I like peace and quiet. Guess that’s why I never remarried.”

  A voice came from behind a dark wood door. “Donna Sue! Is that you yakking out there? Get your ass in here.”

  “Is that him?” Helen lowered her voice.

  “Charming, isn’t he? Must have snuck in the back way.”

  “I better run,” Helen said. “I don’t think he’s in a good mood for a condolence call.”

  “He’s never in a good mood,” Donna Sue said. “That man’s got a temper like a stepped-on snake. I can’t wait to tell him good-bye.”

  Chapter 19

  Clink. Clink. Clink.

  It was the first act of Richard III. The evil Richard began his powerful speech. “Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York—”

  Clink.

  Jason, the production’s new Richard, paused. The tiny noise had distracted him. He recovered quickly. “And all the clouds that—”

  Helen heard the small sound all the way in the back of the theater. After she’d seated the last latecomers, she’d propped herself against the wall. The house was sold out.

  From his first words, she knew Jason was no match for Luke. Helen missed Luke’s crazy energy and high emotion. Luke’s Richard was crippled in mind and body, bent on revenge for imagined slights, hungry for power.

  Jason was correct but dull. The only good thing was his speeches seemed much shorter. Otherwise, Helen felt trapped in a PBS special.

  Clink. Clink. That sound. There it was again. Where was the stage manager?

  Helen tiptoed across the empty lobby and slipped through the velvet curtains to the backstage entrance. A table in the narrow hall was piled with props: a crown with glass
jewels, an evening purse, a dagger.

  She threaded her way through a fire marshal’s nightmare of costume racks and stacks of scripts. Sagging gray curtains divided the men’s and women’s dressing rooms.

  Clink.

  The sound was louder now. Helen thought it came from the other side of the dressing rooms. She slid past a bearded actor going over his lines, his costume damp with flop sweat. He didn’t notice her.

  A plywood partition was just beyond him. Helen peeked around it. Chauncey was sitting on a kitchen chair at an old wooden desk, a bottle of bourbon in front of him. He picked up the bottle and poured sloppily into a water glass, hitting the rim with a loud clink. His shirt was open almost to his waist and there was a bandage on his neck.

  Helen felt a cold hand touch her shoulder and stifled a scream. It was Donna Sue, in a black gown and silver crown. She raised a finger to her lips, brushed past Helen, and held out her hand with a regal gesture.

  Chauncey sheepishly surrendered the glass. Donna Sue poured the bourbon into a foam coffee cup and gave it to him. Helen wanted to applaud.

  Chauncey stared at the foam cup moodily. His too-red lips trembled, then sagged. He poured his next drink in silence.

  Helen followed Donna Sue through the plywood passages to a small kitchen. The counter was cluttered with half-eaten veggie subs, bottled water, and boxes of doughnut holes. Actor food, all of it.

  “What—” she said, but Donna Sue shushed her. Helen watched as she rinsed Chauncey’s glass in the sink, then pulled a lighter and a pack of Virginia Slims out of a purse and slipped out the back door.

  Helen followed her into the chilly night. There was no one else in the bleak staff parking lot, but a mound of cigarette butts and a rank nicotine odor said this was where the pretend princes and peasants smoked between scenes.

  Donna Sue the actress was more self-assured than Donna Sue the secretary. The theater was her world. “Sorry to shut you up.” She took a deep draft of her cigarette. “But sound carries backstage. We can talk out here.”

  “I didn’t know that Chauncey drank,” Helen said.