The Dead-End Job Mysteries Box Set 1

by Elaine Viets

  The short, solid Detective Crayton sat across from Helen. He didn’t seem like a Russian doll anymore. He looked like a KGB torturer. The lanky McGoogan sat next to him and picked lint off his suit jacket.

  Detective Crayton radiated anger: in his face, his hunched shoulders, and his clenched hands. “You’ve got one chance, and one chance only, to get this right,” he said. “Do you know anything about a white terry robe left in a Dumpster in a shopping center on Federal Highway?”

  They know, Helen thought. Someone saw me. She decided to tell the truth. It was her only way out. The silence stretched on while Helen found the courage to say four words: “I put it there.”

  McGoogan pulled at the knot on his tie.

  Once she admitted that, the rest seemed easy. The words came flooding out. “I found Tammie’s body. I panicked and ran. I wiped down the front door with the robe. After I drove off, I realized I still had it in the car, so I threw it away behind a little strip shopping center.”

  They made her repeat her story again and again. While she told this part, Detective McGoogan didn’t twitch, itch, or move. He stared straight at Helen with hard cop’s eyes. She felt like a germ under a microscope, but she kept talking. She hoped the truth would set her free.

  “Why did you have the victim’s robe in the first place?” Detective Crayton asked.

  “Because I didn’t want to see Tammie naked again,” Helen said. “The live Tammie, I mean. Or the dead one, for that matter. Except I didn’t know she was dead when I went back to her house.”

  Helen was so tangled in her sentences, she backed up and started again. “The first time I visited her house, Tammie wasn’t wearing any clothes. I don’t like looking at naked women. If she pulled that stunt again when I came back with her dog, I was going to hand her the robe and tell her to cover up.”

  “So you were angry at her,” Detective Crayton said.

  “Not angry. Disgusted. Just because I’m a servant doesn’t mean I have to put up with that.”

  “Did Tammie make advances toward you?” Crayton said. “Is that why you killed her?”

  “I didn’t kill her,” Helen said. “I don’t know why the woman was naked. It may have been a power play. I didn’t like it and I didn’t want to see her without her clothes. So I took her robe out of the master bath.”

  “What was your relationship with the deceased?”

  “I didn’t have any,” Helen said. “I saw her for the first time that day.”

  “Were you ever in her house?”

  “Just when I picked up her dog, Prince, and then when I tried to return him.”

  “Why did you run when you found the victim’s body? Were you afraid for your own safety?”

  “I panicked,” Helen said. “I guess I was afraid. I was certainly afraid to be with a dead body.”

  “You used the victim’s robe to wipe down the front door?” Detective Crayton said. McGoogan gnawed on his pen tip like a puppy.

  “Yes,” Helen said.

  “Did you realize that you knowingly destroyed evidence? Do you understand that’s a crime?”

  “I’m sorry,” Helen said. “I didn’t mean to. I freaked. I saw Tammie with these scissors sticking out of her chest. It was horrible. I ran, and that was wrong. But I did call 911 to let the police know she was dead.”

  Detective Crayton hit the tabletop with his thick, meaty hand. Helen jumped. “You didn’t tell the police what really happened. You delayed our investigation because of your lies.”

  “I’m sorry,” Helen said. How many times did they want her to apologize?

  “Do you know or suspect anyone who might have wanted to kill the victim?”

  Just Tammie’s husband, Kent, Helen thought. But if I say I think he’s the killer because he wanted to put her dog to sleep, I’ll sound even more unstable. Oh, and by the way, a little old lady with orange hair and turquoise toreador pants says he used to be a crooked vet named Lance.

  “No, sir,” Helen said. “I don’t know anyone.”

  “Have you ever been arrested?” the detective said.

  “Me?” Helen squeaked like a mouse. “No.” That was technically true.

  “Are you hiding anything else?”

  “No,” Helen said. That was a lie.

  “Write down your statement, sign it, and get out of here,” Crayton said. “This afternoon was just a taste of the future. If I catch you in another lie, I’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”

  Half an hour later Helen stumbled into the lobby, feeling like she’d crawled out of a car wreck. She looked like it, too. Her hair was limp and greasy. Her shirt was wrinkled and torn on one shoulder. She was angry at herself, but she had tear tracks on her cheeks. That made her madder.

  Phil was waiting for her on a hard plastic bench. In the dark lobby his hair shone like a beacon. Helen ran into his arms and he held her, crooning to her and smoothing her hair. He smelled of coffee and something citrusy.

  “It’s all right, babe. It’s going to be all right,” he said. “Let’s get out of here and get you some food.”

  “I can’t go to a restaurant looking like this,” Helen said.

  “We’ll go to your place. The electricity is back on. I’ll scramble you some eggs while you shower and change.”

  Helen felt better after she was clean and sitting in front of a steaming plate of eggs and slightly burned buttered toast. Phil treated her with tenderness, but the tension between them wasn’t completely gone. Helen could feel it like a small stone in her shoe.

  Phil even fed Thumbs. The big-pawed cat jumped in his lap for a long scratch while Helen wolfed down her food.

  “I talked with the two homicide detectives while you wrote out your statement,” Phil said. “They were more interested in pumping me about you than telling me anything.”

  Helen put down her fork, instantly wary. “What did you tell them?”

  “That you were a complete ditz,” Phil said. “I said I wasn’t surprised that you ran away when you found the dead woman.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Helen said.

  “They believed me,” Phil said. “I was trying to get you off the hook.”

  Maybe he was, but Helen still thought it was an angry thing to say. The cops weren’t the only ones who were furious at her.

  “They did tell me a few things,” Phil said. He was scratching Thumbs’s ears. The cat rolled over on his back and presented his belly. “As I suspected, they brought you in because they were mad.” Phil didn’t say, “I told you so.” He didn’t have to. “They wanted to scare the shit out of you.”

  “They succeeded,” Helen said.

  “You did the right thing, telling them the truth.” Helen heard the unspoken “this time.”

  “The police have you on tape tossing that robe into the Dumpster,” Phil said. “You picked a Dumpster by a doctors’ building with security cameras. The doctors have had a lot of drug break-ins.

  “A security guard noticed you dumping the robe. He picked it out. It had a woman’s name embroidered on it. When he saw the news later that night, and realized that was the name of the murder victim, he called the Stately Palms police. If you’d lied about the robe, the cops would have arrested you for sure.”

  “They’ve already arrested our star groomer, Jonathon, for Tammie’s murder,” Helen said. “If they have a suspect, why are they asking me all these questions?”

  “Because they think you might have helped him. Jonathon denies it. He also denies that he killed the woman.”

  “I don’t think he did,” Helen said. “I think her husband, Kent the ogre, did it. He was at the shop that day, Phil. He could have stolen Jonathon’s shears and killed his wife. Listen, I know you have some law enforcement contacts, but why were the police telling you this?”

  “Because they wanted me to deliver a message,” Phil said.

  “What am I going to do?” Helen said.

  “You’re going to let me help you,” Phil said. “Maybe we can giv
e them some leads on the real killer. I know you think it’s Kent, but could anyone else have killed Tammie?”

  “The police are convinced it’s Jonathon. I’m not, but I admit Jonathon looks like a good candidate. He had a fight with her the day of the murder, then disappeared for part of the afternoon. I don’t know if his fingerprints are on the murder weapon. But he may have killed someone years ago in self-defense.”

  “Did he shoot them?”

  “No, he used grooming scissors.”

  Phil whistled. “That’s not good.”

  “It gets worse. He may have an ugly past, Phil. Margery’s friend Elsie says he used to work for a crooked vet in Tampa, and he took a bribe and ruined a show dog’s chances. She claims Jonathon changed his name and his look when he moved here. The crooked vet and his bosomy assistant sound a lot like Tammie and Kent.”

  “What does Kent do for a living now?” Phil said.

  “Nothing,” Helen said. “But he has a lot of money.”

  “Do you think Kent conspired with Jonathon to kill his wife?”

  “No. I’m not convinced Elsie’s story is true.”

  “You don’t like to hear bad things about Jonathon, do you?” Phil said.

  “I like him, but I can’t tell you why, except he doesn’t talk baby talk to the dogs. That’s some basis for a friendship.”

  “Anyone else?” Phil said.

  “There’s something odd about Todd, too. I don’t think he’s a killer, but he may be blackmailing a customer. He’s jealous of Jonathon. Jonathon was in a snit when Todd worked in his room, and he held a pair of scissors to Todd’s throat.”

  “Jonathon again. Are you sure he’s a good guy?” Phil said. “He sounds violent.”

  “He’s a prima donna,” Helen said. “He wouldn’t actually hurt anyone.”

  “Except the man he killed.”

  “He tried to kill Jonathon first,” Helen said. “Anyway, Jonathon didn’t hurt Todd. I swear Todd cut his own throat to make the fight with Jonathon look worse.

  “I can’t think of any other candidates. There may be other people who wanted to kill Tammie, but I don’t know her well enough to say who they are.”

  “What about Jeff?” Phil said.

  “Jeff!” Helen said. “He wouldn’t hurt a soul. Besides, he was running around like crazy at the store the afternoon of her murder.”

  “Did you see him at the store all afternoon?”

  “I think so. I was pretty busy,” Helen said.

  But now she wondered. Jeff had slipped out this morning, and she didn’t realize it until he came whistling through the front door. Could he have disappeared for half an hour the day of Tammie’s murder?

  “Maybe Jeff needs checking out,” Phil said. “I’ll see what I can find out about Jonathon, Todd, Kent, and Jeff. Can you get the gossip on Tammie? Any way that you can talk to someone in her crowd?”

  “I can try,” Helen said. “I can work on the Todd angle, too. It’s possible he’s blackmailing Jan Kurtz, one of our customers. Margery thought I should talk with Jan and see if I can find out why.”

  “Good idea,” Phil said. “Jan is more likely to confide in a sympathetic woman.”

  There was a knock on her door. Helen heard a smoky voice demanding, “Are you two decent? It’s Margery.”

  “Of course we are,” Helen said.

  Margery handed Helen a glowing cell phone and stepped inside Helen’s home. “It’s your boss, Jeff. He wants to know how you are. So do I.”

  “I’m fine, Jeff,” Helen said into the phone. “No, no. It was nothing serious. The detectives asked me some questions and let me go. I don’t know why they came on so heavy with the handcuffs. Once I got to the police station, it was no big deal. I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. I’ll be in tomorrow. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Helen snapped the phone shut and handed it back to her landlady. Margery’s face was purple with anger. “When are you going to quit lying?” she said. “Aren’t you in enough trouble?”

  CHAPTER 20

  The high-rises on Galt Ocean Mile blocked everyone else’s view of the ocean, like bullies taking over a bar.

  The massive buildings made Helen feel insignificant. She should have been gliding up the curving drive to Jan Kurtz’s condominium in a Mercedes or a Jaguar. Instead she got off a bus. Helen was out of breath by the time she climbed up the long driveway and grand staircase. She was also wet. When the wind shifted, the fountain had sprayed her like a stray dog.

  The magnificent doorman eyed the dripping Helen as if she were a burglar. Helen was nearly blinded by the light from the chandeliers bouncing off the mirrors and the marble floors. The young man at the front desk gave her a superior stare.

  “Helen Hawthorne to see Mrs. Kurtz.”

  The superior young man made a call, put the phone on hold, and said, “Mrs. Kurtz is at home, but she’s not expecting anyone.”

  “Tell her I want to talk to her about her gift bag.”

  The young man spoke into the phone again, then said, “You may go upstairs. Seven-seventeen.”

  The elevator was paneled in dark wood. On three sides it had long brass rods like coffin handles. It traveled faster than Helen’s bus.

  Jan opened her condo door cautiously, blocking it with her small, trim body. Her pink Capri pants and fitted top had been stylish three years ago. Her makeup and blond hair were flawless, but Jan’s smile looked like it might slip off her face. Her hands trembled slightly, and she clung to the door frame to steady them. Jan was a frightened woman. Helen hated to make her feel worse, but she needed some answers, and the only way she would get them was by asking Jan questions that would hurt her.

  “I know about you and Todd,” Helen said, deliberately talking a little too loud.

  Jan swiftly beckoned Helen inside. Condos had notoriously sharp-eared neighbors. Helen stepped in and stopped, stunned by the view of the blue-green sea stretching into infinity. A little black poodle came running up, danced around Jan, then barked protectively. Jan scooped up the dog and put her hand over its muzzle.

  “Shush,” she said, hugging the dog. “You know we can’t make noise.”

  Jan turned to Helen. There was fear in her eyes and a desperate courage. “I don’t have any more money,” she said defiantly. “I told Todd that. He said this would be the last payment, and now you’re here. I swear I’ll go to the police this time. I have nothing to lose. I’m broke.”

  Helen looked past the splendid view and saw the slightly lighter rectangles on the green wallpaper where paintings must have hung. A long, lighted display cabinet for smaller artworks was dark and empty. The carpet was worn and the curtains were sun-faded.

  Helen had guessed right: Todd was bleeding this woman. “Sit down, Jan, and talk to me,” she said. “I don’t want your money. I think I can help you.”

  Even though she was in her own home, Jan took a seat in a mint-green wing chair, as Helen directed. Helen sank into the couch. The pillows shifted, and she saw they hid a stain on one cushion.

  “I don’t think you can help me,” Jan said. Tears streaked her perfect makeup. “I’m trapped. Todd’s tried this ‘last payment’ routine before. I gave him all the money I had, but he’ll be back for more in a few months and I’ll have to sell my condo.”

  “How long has this been going on?” Helen said.

  “Three years.”

  “Tell me why he’s doing this to you,” Helen said. “I’ll understand.”

  “It’s Snickers,” Jan said, and hugged her dog tighter to her chest. Helen looked at the small curly-coated poodle with the long pink tongue. Maybe she couldn’t understand after all.

  “Snickers is illegal,” Jan said. “I live in a condo that doesn’t allow pets.”

  “That’s all?” Helen said.

  “All? It’s everything. The condo association can take my Snickers away from me. Ever since Todd discovered I lived in a no-pets building, he’s been blackmailing me. I couldn’t bea
r to live without my little doggie. With my husband dead, I have no one else.”

  Snickers jumped out of Jan’s lap, then returned with a slobbery squeaky toy, as if the rubber duck would cheer her up. Jan took it and scratched the dog’s ears. “See?” she said. “See how sweet he is? He gave Mommy a present.”

  “How did Todd learn your secret?” Helen said.

  “At your store. I bought a special bag to hide Snickers in when I carried him into the building. It looked like a designer purse, except it had mesh on the sides, so Snickers could breathe. Todd sold it to me.”

  Todd had preyed on a customer. Jeff would be furious and mortified.

  Jan kept her head down and her voice so low Helen had trouble hearing her. “I . . . I made friends with Todd. You know, good friends. I know it was a mistake, but I’m only forty-five. I’m still an attractive woman, and I’d dated such awful men. One got drunk and made a scene in a restaurant when I refused to go home with him. I was so embarrassed, I never went to the restaurant again.”

  Helen had made a few mistakes herself. She hoped she looked sympathetic.

  “After that episode, I didn’t date,” Jan said. “Then I met Todd. He seemed so nice. He was a little young, but that didn’t matter to me. We had fun together. We went shopping. I could never get a man to go shopping with me before. My late husband, Thomas, hated stores. They bored him.

  “I enjoyed buying Todd presents. I gave him platinum cuff links, a gold key ring, and a silver ID bracelet. I felt so sophisticated. I liked shopping for nice clothes for Todd. I helped him with his rent sometimes, but I’d do that for any friend in trouble. Todd made me laugh. For the first time since Thomas’s death, I felt young.

  “Then Mrs. Morris—she’s another widow, an older woman who lives in the penthouse—said, ‘So you’ve taken up with the neighborhood gigolo.’ Suddenly I saw what I was: a foolish middle-aged woman with a much younger man.”