Murder Ink

by Betty Hechtman

  FOURTEEN

  I usually closed the doors to my office and the bedrooms to wall off my personal space on the nights the group met. They all knew to go right to the dining room.

  But everything had changed with Rocky’s arrival. I didn’t want to shut him in or out of any room, so I left all the doors open. I didn’t know what to do with Ben. It seemed cold to send him back to the dining room to wait, and he’d been all over my apartment when he helped set up everything for the black-and-white cat. I invited him into the living room and offered him coffee.

  It might have seemed like the right thing to do, but that didn’t mean I was comfortable with it. I was clumsy and almost spilled coffee on him as I handed him the mug.

  What was wrong with me? I was used to dealing with all different kinds of people. Why was this so uncomfortable? I blamed it on him and his closed-up personality. He’d broken his monotone a couple of times, but then he’d gone back to the dry tone, devoid of emotion.

  I was relieved when the doorbell announced the next arrival. Tizzy whirled in, living up to her name. She wore a black shawl over a red-print kimono and all of it fluttered as she talked, gesturing with her hands. She was all excited about being allowed behind the scenes at the Museum of Science and Industry.

  ‘Yesterday’s Main Street is the perfect spot for my character to time transition,’ she said, stopping inside the door for a moment. ‘It has an authentic cobblestone street and shop windows featuring period dresses and high-buttoned shoes. I can’t wait for the group to see my pages describing it.’ She went back to the dining room and I doubt even noticed that Ben was in the living room. He took her arrival as a cue and followed her back to our meeting place. They all knew that he had dinner at his sisters before our get-together, so she wouldn’t think there was anything strange about him suddenly appearing like that.

  Ed and Daryl arrived together. It was obviously pure coincidence that they had shown up at the same time. Aside from the fact that he seemed surprisingly happily married, I couldn’t imagine the very trendily dressed Daryl being interested in a cantankerous man in track pants. As soon as they sat down, we got down to business.

  Tizzy closed her eyes and listened as Ed read her piece describing her character standing under an old-fashioned streetlight on the cobblestone road. He read it without too much enthusiasm. We discussed it afterwards, which meant that I gave my comments and the rest of them nodded in agreement while Tizzy scribbled down notes.

  She had done a masterful job of describing the street inside the museum. I’d been going there my whole life and Old-Fashioned Street, as I called it, had always been one of my favorite spots. There was something magical about turning a corner and going from the hubbub of the museum to a dark cobblestone street made to look like the turn of the last century. It was the perfect spot for someone to time travel.

  Daryl read Ben’s work. It was very much like him, buttoned up. We saw what the detective did and saw, but nothing of how he felt. The sentences were short and to the point with very few adjectives. Daryl was the most self-absorbed in the group and really only cared about her own work. She read his pages in a lackadaisical manner which made his work seem funny. Even so, none of us cracked a smile. It was unwritten rule, unless something was supposed to be a comedy, we never laughed.

  Ben read Ed’s weekly dose of his fantasies of a man who seemed like a younger version of himself surrounded by a bevy of famous women on a TV dating show. As usual, the man ended up in the Getting to Know You Suite. We’d kind of gotten him to use more euphemisms but his descriptions were still pretty graphic. Ben as usual read it in a monotone like it was a police report. When he was done, Ed looked at all of us. ‘I just wanted you to check it for punctuation and spelling. I’ve been following a fan fiction website for The Singleton and I’m going to submit this encounter to them. Fingers crossed they’ll put it up. I know what you people think, but you’re not my audience.’ Everyone wished him good luck.

  Tizzy got stuck reading Daryl’s work. Every paragraph or so, Tizzy would look up with a worried eye to see Daryl’s reaction to her reading. More than once Daryl corrected her by telling her she wasn’t putting the emphasis on the right words. When it came time for me to comment, I took the coward’s way out. Daryl was so thin-skinned, so, I just said her story seemed to be coming along. The rest of them nodded in agreement.

  We usually had our small talk at the beginning but for some reason, this time it was at the end. Rocky made a momentary appearance and then disappeared. I told them all about my new resident and explained how I’d come to adopt him.

  ‘It sounds like you wrote too good a piece,’ Tizzy said. She turned out to have a lot of information about cats and readily shared it. ‘But what about that other thing you were working on? It seemed like you thought there was more to the story and you were going to investigate. Did you find out anything new?’

  Had I really said I was going to investigate what happened to Rachel?

  There was so much to tell them, though I wondered what I could say. I gave it a moment’s thought and decided it seemed okay to talk about what I’d found out as long as I was vague on details of who the people involved were.

  I began by describing how I’d decided to do the book. ‘The search for anecdote led me to the school where she taught and then to a dance gym.’ They all wanted to know what a dance gym was and thought it was cool that I was doing work for it now, too. I mentioned that a number of people had said that Rachel seemed different recently. I described the wedding picture versus the one I’d seen on Luke’s phone. ‘It turns out the woman I thought was Rachel’s mother is really her stepmother and she has two daughters of her own. And before that she was her current husband’s assistant.’ They let out a collective oooh. ‘And there’s more: I found out that Rachel’s mother died of an accidental overdose, but it was probably covered up just the way it seems Rachel’s death has been.’

  Ben seemed to be listening intently, but said nothing. Tizzy immediately started to conjecture that the stepmother might have been involved in Rachel’s mother’s death.

  Daryl threw a bucket of cold water on all of it.

  ‘What’s the difference whether it was suicide or an accident with this Rachel or her mother?’ Daryl asked. ‘It doesn’t change anything. She’s dead. What’s it to you, anyway?’

  I thought a moment. What was it exactly that made me want to find out more about what had happened to Rachel? ‘It’s curiosity. What makes someone tick? What makes someone change so much? And I feel a little guilty, as if maybe I could have made a difference.’

  ‘How exactly did she change?’ Tizzy asked.

  ‘Aside from losing her smile, it seems like she lost her confidence and I get the impression that she was worried about losing her grip.’

  ‘Wow,’ Tizzy said. ‘What about her husband?’

  ‘It turns out he’s a bartender at a hotel bar.’ I shared the story of my virgin pink squirrel. As expected, I got a lot of quizzical looks, except from Tizzy who explained that the cocktail dated from the 1950s and had originated at a bar in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She knew the ingredients as well. The Crème de Noyaux was bright red and made from peach pits which naturally contained a tiny amount of cyanide. Then it was just crème de cacao, heavy cream and ice.

  ‘No buzz in mine, but it sure was delicious.’

  By then it was after ten and they were all ready to call it a night. Despite what Daryl said, I promised to keep them in the loop if I found anything out and the group broke up. I walked them all to the front. It had been a long day and I was glad to shut the door and have the place to myself, or almost to myself, as I remembered I had a cat housemate.

  The cat carrier was still sitting in the living room. I went to retrieve it and saw the padded envelope sitting on the dark wood coffee table in front of the black leather couch. I recalled that Ben brought it up from the post downstairs. It was a common practice if anyone saw mail left in the vestibule, they brought it
inside the locked glass door. I glanced at it and saw that it was addressed to me, but there was no stamp or return address. I pulled it open and found an unmarked CD in a clear plastic case inside. It seemed strange to say the least. I felt a little uneasy as I took it into my office and put it into the computer, not sure what to expect. Was it a video or an audio recording?

  I waited until a dialogue box appeared on the screen asking me what I wanted to do with it. I hit play and waited. A picture flashed on the screen as plaintiff piano music began. It was Rachel in her wedding dress, but the photo was from a distance. I barely had a chance to make note of the dress that I’d thought so lovely before it faded. The next picture was of her walking on the street carrying shopping bags. The music continued as the image morphed into her at Dance with Me. The angle suggested that it had been taken by someone on the outside looking in. She was wearing a leotard and had her hair tied up in a topknot. She appeared to be talking to Debbie Alcoa. There were more photos of Rachel all taken from a distance. Then there was one that had a closer view of her as she faced the camera. My breath caught when I saw how thin she’d become and the haunted look in her eyes. It melted into a picture of a balcony and across the bottom of the screen it said: Money can’t buy you happiness or love. The only way out.

  And then it repeated over and over. As I watched it again I tried to pay more attention to the background and where the photos had been taken, but without much luck. Finally, I hit stop and sat back in my chair. What was this supposed to be and who had sent it? There had been no note in the envelope or return address. It hadn’t been mailed, so someone had to have delivered it. I felt unnerved by the whole thing and sat there until the screen went dark. It took numerous cups of chamomile tea before I finally fell asleep. And even then, it was far from peaceful.

  FIFTEEN

  It was strange waking up to find out that I wasn’t alone in bed. Sometime during the night, Rocky had joined me. He’d taken up a position on a pillow behind my head and he didn’t stir when I got up. I was glad he’d made an appearance. Other than his initial walk through the apartment and his brief appearance when the group was there, he’d stayed hidden. Ben had made a point to remind me that the cat was there as he was leaving.

  Tizzy’d had a number of cats and said he was probably just getting acclimated and might be so glad to have a real home that he might be worried about being taken back. Later I noted the food I’d left out for him was gone, so it seemed as if she might be right. Tizzy had advised me just to let him find his own way.

  With his water, bowl with dry food and cat box, all Rocky’s needs seemed attended to and I felt OK leaving him. Another day, another dance class. The schedule called it Serendipity 1, but there was no description of what it was. The leggings and a loose shirt were becoming my dance uniform and I figured they would work. I put on a long cream-colored sweater over the shirt to make it a little dressier for the street. I chuckled thinking of what Tizzy had said about the way people used to dress when they went downtown. Women wore hats with little veils and white gloves. Those ladies would be shocked to see me, I thought, as I pulled on a pair of black boots. I stowed my sneakers and the ballet slippers in the tote bag, sure that one of them would be right for the class.

  I was getting ready to leave when the phone rang. I didn’t even get out a hello before Evan spoke. He didn’t identify himself either. Lucky for him I excelled at recognizing people by their voice.

  ‘You have to do something,’ he said. He explained that he’d left a copy of the note I’d written for him, along with a boat on Sally’s desk as we’d discussed. ‘She hasn’t said yes, or no, or even maybe. She hasn’t said anything and it’s already Wednesday and I invited her for a cruise on Sunday. Why hasn’t she said anything?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. It did seem kind of strange. Sally didn’t seem like the kind of person to not give an answer. The only thing I could figure was that she might be waiting, trying to find a way to say no while staying on good terms since he was the one who helped her with her computer.

  ‘You have to find out,’ he said. He sounded a little frantic then apologized. ‘I mean, can you do something?’

  This was outside what I considered my responsibility and I was stumped. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He sounded befuddled. ‘What would Hugh Grant do?’

  This I could answer. ‘He’d probably duck his head, looking adorable and just ask her if she wanted to go on the cruise.’

  ‘I can’t do that. I mean, I could duck my head and look sheepish, but I don’t think it would be all that adorable.’ I wanted to tell him that the very fact that he didn’t think he was adorable probably meant he would appear that way, but I didn’t think he’d believe me.

  ‘How about you find a reason to see her. Say you heard her computer was malfunctioning.’

  I heard him sigh. ‘That would be lying, and she would know it because her computer would be working fine.’ I wanted to explain that she would probably also understand that it was an excuse to see her and be flattered – unless it made her feel cornered. But I understood that he wasn’t going to deal with her directly.

  ‘I hope you realize this isn’t what I do, but I’ll figure out something. I’m going downtown for a dance class. Maybe a grand plan will pop into my mind.’

  ‘Will you call me as soon as you know anything?’ he said, sounding a little less frantic.

  ‘Do you want me to run whatever plan I come up with by you first?’ I asked.

  ‘No. Just do it. Whatever it is. I trust you.’ And after a goodbye, he hung up.

  What had I just agreed to?

  His phone call had delayed me enough that I barely made the train. I grabbed a seat on the side that offered a view of the lake. I just wanted to forget about everything and look out the window. For now, the sun was shining and the lake seemed placid, though the weather report had said something about rain.

  I thought I’d managed to clear my mind, but somehow the water made me think of the strange DVD I’d gotten. It was disturbing. I hadn’t a clue who’d sent it. Or why? Did they mean for me to somehow use it in the book?

  I’d have to see if I could find out without asking anyone directly. Maybe how to do that would magically appear during the dance class, too.

  When I got to the gym, a group was waiting for the start of the class. They were just standing around in no particular formation and the clothes were everything from dance wear to street clothes. Nobody was wearing ballet slippers, so I opted for the sneakers. I made a mental note that there should be something in the description of each class explaining what to wear. I left my bags and boots with my jacket and stuck my valuables in one of the cubbies.

  I looked around for somebody to ask about the class. I’d only talked to women so far, so when I saw a man about my age wearing leggings and a red bandana on his head, I decided he’d be the one.

  ‘Hey,’ I said with a friendly nod. ‘Have you come to this class before? I’m working on class descriptions and publicity material for the gym.’ It was as if I was a news reporter and had turned my microphone on him. His face lit up as he began to talk.

  ‘You haven’t lived until you’ve taken a Serendipity class,’ he said. ‘Fun, fun, fun and always a surprise.’ He struck a pose.

  ‘Do you think you could be more specific,’ I said, smiling at his antics.

  ‘It’s mostly folk dancing. The hora, the mizerlou, and like that. But sometimes they bring in a caller and it’s square dancing. Once we did the hokey-pokey, but once we knew what it was all about, it got a little boring. Can you believe they called it an American folk dance? I suggested that Irish dance where everybody holds the top of their body kind of rigid and it’s all in the feet. But so far, no go.’ More people had come in and I saw Debbie Alcoa fiddling with the sound system and talking to someone I assumed was the teacher. I debated trying to talk to her before the class, but she seemed busy and she might be annoyed by the int
rusion, so I stayed talking to my dance mate.

  ‘There was a woman who used to come here. She went by Ray or Rachel,’ I said. ‘Did you know her?’

  ‘I thought you wanted to interview me about the class,’ he said, as his expression drooped. He let out his breath and took a moment to think. ‘Was she kind of curvy with brown hair?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, looking at him expectantly.

  ‘I didn’t know her know her, if you know what I mean. Like, I might have said hi, but that’s all. She was, like, here all the time. I think she was getting some kind of private lessons.’ He stopped for a moment before continuing. ‘The last time I remember seeing her was at a tap class. She got mixed up in the routine and there was a bunch of drama about it. She started crying and said something about losing her mind before she took off. I mean, it’s just an exercise class.’

  I was trying to process what he’d said and ask for more details, but he’d gone back to talking about the class. ‘I’d be happy to tell you about the other classes. I’ve taken them all. Do you need my name? You know, if you want to quote me.’

  I sensed he wanted to give it to me and who knew, maybe I’d use it. I went to my bag and got out my notebook and wrote as he spelled out ‘Talmadge Edwards’ for me. Really? What were his parents thinking?

  The class turned out to be devoted to folk dances. I hadn’t caught the names of all of them, but the pattern was the same. We’d learn the steps and then do the dance in a circle or sometimes a line. The dances were all easy to pick up and fun. By the time I was walking out with the rest of the people everyone seemed to be in good spirits. I planned to come back to Dance with Me in the afternoon to observe Serendipity 2. I only had it in me to participate in one dance class a day. I also hoped to get a chance to talk to Debbie Alcoa. I’d missed her again, but I had come up with a plan to deal with Sally. I wouldn’t call it a great plan, but I thought it would get the job done. In the time between the classes I figured I could go to the Bellingham and talk to Sally with the excuse that I was planning an event. I’d bring up Evan and see where it went from there.