by Sandra Balzo
If Sarah was there, she’d have muttered, ‘I’ll tell you who’s the psycho.’ Me, I was gratified by Christy’s knowledge of the classics.
‘Where were the bracelet and the envelope?’ Pavlik asked, stepping past the splintered door jamb into the kitchen.
‘In my bedroom,’ Christy said, her face flaming red again. ‘I can show Detective Anthony.’
Kelly Anthony glanced at Pavlik and he nodded, turning to me as the other three disappeared down the hall. ‘Something I’m not allowed to see?’
‘Her underwear drawer,’ I explained. ‘I heard her tell Margraves that’s where she’d keep the gift when it arrived.’
‘First place a thief looks for jewelry,’ Pavlik said dryly. ‘I’ve seen inside a few drawers in my time.’
‘I’m sure you have,’ I said, with a grin. ‘But not Christy’s and if I were you, I’d be grateful Anthony is taking one for the team.’
‘But now I’m curious.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘Christy has said she’s quite adventurous. I’m just not sure what that would look like, given her hygiene penchant.’
‘You’re right,’ he said, as the others reappeared in the hall. ‘Best not to know.’
‘But you will see Anthony’s report,’ I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. ‘And tell me, right?’
‘Wrong.’ He turned to Christy. ‘Nothing was taken besides the bracelet and envelope?’
‘Nothing,’ Christy said.
Looking around, I could not see much to steal. Christy took minimalism to the extreme. The counters and table were empty. Probably easier to clean.
‘Do you keep any money or firearms in the house?’ Anthony asked.
‘Money, just what’s in my purse,’ she said, moving to a kitchen drawer. ‘But I do have a gun in this—’
‘No!’ The shouts of both Pavlik and Kelly Anthony stopped her as she opened the drawer.
‘Oh. Sorry,’ she said, holding up her hands. ‘It’s in there.’
Anthony reached in and carefully slid out a small pistol, removing the magazine and clearing the remaining round. ‘You have a permit for this?’
‘Of course,’ Christy said. ‘It’s there in the drawer under the bullets.’
Anthony slipped the permit out and unfolded it. ‘All in order.’
‘You can put it back,’ Pavlik told her. ‘Unloaded.’
‘Why do you have a gun in the kitchen?’ I asked.
‘You of all people can ask that?’ Christy asked. ‘After what happened to us in my kitchen?’
That was another story.
‘She took it out and loaded it last night,’ Rebecca said. ‘I told her she was more likely to shoot me than an intruder.’
‘Better to call the police if you hear something suspicious,’ Pavlik told Christy and went to confer with Deputy Anthony.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked Christy. ‘Not only about the bracelet and diamond, but also about Barry being—’
‘Married? Yes.’ Another sniffle. ‘I’m just sorry he felt he couldn’t tell me.’
Now that was a reaction I had not expected. ‘You wouldn’t have cared?’ I think there was accusation in my tone.
‘Obviously, Barry was unhappy. His wife is probably a shrew.’
OK, so this got my back up. ‘That’s what all cheaters say. If Barry was unhappy, he should have gotten a divorce before he started to “date”.’
‘You were more charitable about him this morning,’ Rebecca said, with a bit of a smirk. ‘Could still be love and all that.’
‘I know. I can only sustain charity and understanding for so long,’ I admitted. ‘Besides, Helena Margraves is a perfectly nice woman.’
‘You’ve met her?’ Christy asked.
‘Well, no.’ But I decided there and then that I would.
EIGHT
And so it was, that bright and early on Thursday, I was waiting for Caron Egan in the lobby of the Hotel Morrison.
Before we’d left her the night before, Christy had insisted she wanted to keep busy to take her mind off her loss. I assumed she meant Barry, not the bracelet and presumed diamond, but either way I took pity on her and suggested she open with Sarah the next morning, thereby freeing myself.
‘Coffee here in the lobby, Maggy?’ Caron asked, bustling out the door behind the registration desk. ‘Or do you prefer a full-on breakfast in the restaurant?’
‘Lobby,’ I said, debating between one of the brocade-upholstered chairs facing the door or the matching couch with a sight line to the front desk. ‘You have in-room checkout?’
Caron looked offended. ‘Of course. We slip the bill under the door. If there is a problem, the guest can call or come to the desk. Otherwise, they can check out via the television or just leave.’
‘Great.’ I chose a chair. ‘I’m hoping to catch Helena Margraves on the way out.’
‘Please don’t make the woman cry in my lobby,’ Caron said, settling onto the sofa. ‘We have a nice establishment here.’
‘Unlike my coffeehouse?’ I asked, glancing around. It was a pretty lobby, if a bit fussy for my taste.
‘Nary a body to be found here,’ Caron said, signaling a waiter. ‘French press all right? We specialize in it.’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘And you know full well that we’ve never had a body in Uncommon Grounds.’ Under Uncommon Grounds. Next to Uncommon Grounds. In front of Uncommon Grounds. But never in.
I waited for the waiter to bring the plunger pot filled with hot water and ground coffee to the table, press and pour. We stocked French press pots for retail sale at Uncommon Grounds and made plunger coffee on request, though the majority of our business was espresso-based drinks.
Caron was smart to feature something that still entailed a ceremony – measuring the ground coffee into the pot and adding the hot water, waiting for the prescribed three to four minutes before pressing the mesh piston to force the grounds to the bottom and, finally, pouring the strong, rich brew – but could be done with minimal equipment and in front of the customer.
I took a sip. ‘Delicious. Maybe we should do more press coffee.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ Caron said. ‘It’s our shtick.’
I grinned. ‘Fine.’
Caron set down her cup. ‘So what did you want to talk about?’
Talk? ‘I told you. I want to see Helena Margraves.’
A sigh, as Caron sat back on the couch and folded her arms across her chest. ‘And you couldn’t have done that without taking up my valuable time?’
Valuable, shmaluable. However you spell it. ‘Of course not. I need you.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t know what the woman looks like, do you?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Of course not.’ Another sigh. ‘Fine. I checked her in. Short with dark hair. Seemed very nice.’
‘Nice was the word Pavlik used, too.’ My head swiveled as an elevator dinged. A man emerged. ‘He asked me if you were sure Margraves hadn’t left his luggage with the desk. Which is another reason why I wanted to talk to you in person.’
‘Sure it is.’ Caron picked up a delicate pitcher and dumped a little cream in her coffee. ‘I told you no. No luggage at the front desk, the bell stand or in storage.’
‘Is it possible he didn’t have any?’ I asked, as the revolving door whirled and spit in an older woman with a young boy.
Caron cocked her head and looked skyward, thinking. ‘I suppose it’s possible. But for two nights?’
‘That was my thought, too. At least the man would need a toothbrush.’
‘We have complimentary toothbrushes and razors.’
‘Underwear, too?’
‘We’re not that full-service.’ She smiled now. ‘Could he have dropped his baggage off at the airport?’
‘I thought about the airport, but you told me he had a room booked for that night.’
‘Meaning Margraves had no intention of flying out, so why would he take his things with him. Unless�
�� – she tapped her fingernail on the edge of the saucer – ‘he changed his mind.’
If so, he’d made that decision before meeting Christy. ‘I don’t suppose you keep track of the toothbrushes and razors you hand out.’
‘Not formally, but I can check with the desk and housekeeping. Somebody may remember. What about the cab driver?’
‘Ride-share. Pavlik is checking,’ I told her. ‘If I’d thought about it, I would have asked Deputy Anthony last night.’
‘Why? What was last night?’
‘Christy was robbed. Her tennis bracelet was taken, as well as a package from Margraves that she hadn’t opened.’
Caron’s nose wrinkled, connecting the freckles normally sprinkled across it into a pert brown mass. ‘That’s odd, don’t you think?’
‘The fact she hadn’t opened it or the fact they were stolen?’
‘Both, I guess.’
‘Agreed.’
‘What are you going to ask Helena Margraves? Whether after identifying her husband’s body she snuck into his lover’s house and stole the gifts he gave her?’
I set my cup back into its saucer and sat back. ‘I hadn’t thought about it, but that’s an idea. Thing is Helena apparently doesn’t know about the affair.’
‘You always know about the affair,’ Caron said. ‘Even if you don’t admit it to yourself.’
Let’s be clear. It wasn’t Bernie Egan who had the affair, it was Caron. So I wasn’t sure what she knew about being on the short end of that particular stick. ‘I didn’t.’
‘Search your heart. I think you’ll find differently.’
I closed my eyes, remembering why Caron occasionally had driven me crazy as a partner. Sarah might be a pain in the ass, but she was seldom a sanctimonious pain in the ass.
I was saved from answering by another whirl of the revolving door. This time it burped up somebody vaguely familiar. As she approached, I realized it was the woman who had stopped by the coffeehouse Monday, only to be scared off by Sarah and Christy.
‘Hello again,’ I called, as she passed. ‘Enjoying your new home even with the snow?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said, hesitating. ‘Thanks.’
‘Well, stop into Uncommon Grounds again.’ I was trying to cue her to where we had met, since she was obviously confused. ‘Have you met Caron Egan? She owns the Morrison. And Caron, this is …’ I swiveled my head toward Caron.
She was looking at me like I was crazy. ‘Helena Margraves.’
I glanced around the lobby. ‘Where?’
Caron leaned forward. ‘You’re talking to her.’
I pointed to the other chair and practically ordered Helena Margraves to sit in it.
She did. ‘I knew I should have taken the earlier flight.’
Not so ‘nice’ now. ‘You were here in Brookhills on Monday. That was the day before your husband was killed.’
‘Yes.’ She took off her hat and shook out the dark bangs as she had done in the shop.
‘When you came here,’ I continued, ‘did you know about—’
‘The affair?’ She nodded, her eyes welling. ‘I mean, I suspected. There were charge card bills. Gifts he bought that’ – she held out her hands, palms facing down – ‘I never got.’
‘Like the tennis bracelet.’
‘Yes.’ A single tear escaped, and she swiped at it. ‘I thought my heart was literally going to break when I saw it on her wrist. You even said Barry’s name. I couldn’t get my breath. I had to get out.’
She tugged the purse next to her onto her lap. ‘I think I owe you for a latte.’
Wow. She was nice. ‘On me,’ I said.
Caron snagged a cup from the next table and went to pour Helena a cup from the press pot before realizing it had gone cold. She signaled the waiter and sat back down. ‘We’ll get you some hot coffee.’
‘Thank you,’ Helena said.
‘How did you trace Christy?’ I asked. ‘Phone records?’ A wealth of information, in my experience.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I looked on the statement for our iPhones, but Barry must have had a separate cell phone. What do they call it? A burner?’
I nodded. ‘But you did find her somehow.’
She nodded her thanks as the waiter took away the cold coffee and brought a clean cup and saucer. ‘Her name and address were on a bill. Something Barry had ordered.’
‘And you decided to come looking for a piano teacher.’
‘It was a lame excuse, I know.’ A smile threatened but then disappeared. ‘I honestly didn’t think about what I’d do when I got here. I just had to do something. I had to know.’
‘Of course you did.’ Caron took the press pot from the waiter and indicated she would take care of it from there. He moved off.
‘It took all my courage to climb the porch steps to her door,’ Helena continued, ‘only to see the note saying she was at the coffeehouse. I made myself cross the street and go in, but then I kind of freaked.’ She nodded to me. ‘As you saw.’
‘I did. But it took a lot of courage to get that far.’
‘More adrenaline than courage,’ she said. ‘I felt so angry, so betrayed. Now, I think I’d forgive anything to have him back.’
‘You poor thing,’ Caron said, as she pushed the plunger down and poured the fresh coffee. ‘When did you find out that your husband was dead?’
Helena didn’t seem to notice the cup Caron slid to her. ‘That afternoon. I was here at the hotel when I picked up the message from the Brookhills sheriff. She said there had been an accident and Barry was dead.’
I frowned. Kelly Anthony said she had left a voicemail, but I had assumed she’d waited until the woman had called her back to break the news.
‘I … well, I panicked. It was like I was in some horrible old movie. I was embarrassed that I had come snooping and suddenly Barry was dead. Right here in Brookhills.’
‘How did you know he would be here?’ I asked, moving the cup toward her. ‘Or didn’t you?’
She took a sip. ‘I assumed. Barry said he was going to San Diego, but the plane ticket was booked through Milwaukee. It didn’t make sense.’
Especially since Milwaukee was not really a hub. If people were connecting to west or east coast flights, they would typically fly through Chicago. ‘His ticket was Denver-Milwaukee-San Diego?’
‘Smart, right?’ She attempted a smile. ‘You carry-on your luggage and simply don’t take the last leg.’
So Margraves had been traveling light. Which might explain the lack of … I smacked myself in the forehead as the light dawned.
Helena glanced over at me but continued what she was saying. ‘… Afraid I’d somehow be blamed for Barry’s death.’ She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose. ‘That was before I realized it had been this horrible, freak snowplow accident.’
‘What did you do?’ Caron asked.
‘Packed and left. Got the first flight out when the snow let up and then called the deputy when I landed back in Denver.’
Milwaukee to Denver direct would be a fairly short flight. Maybe two and a half hours. ‘You arrived here on Monday, flew home on Tuesday night and then turned around and flew back yesterday, Wednesday.’
‘Exactly.’
‘The reservation for Monday and Tuesday nights,’ I said, turning to Caron, ‘was it for Barry or Helena Margraves?’
Caron closed one eye and thought. ‘I’m sure it said Barry Margraves.’
‘We make all our hotel reservations under Barry’s name and number,’ Helena said. ‘Points, you know.’
‘You give points?’ I asked Caron.
She nodded. ‘Of course. We’ve joined—’
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ Helena said, rising. ‘I have to pack and catch an eleven o’clock flight.’
Before I could answer, she had stepped into an open elevator and the door had closed.
‘I guess I could wait and corner her on the way out,’ I said.
‘I’d prefer you didn’t,’ Caron s
aid.
‘She’ll probably duck out a different door anyway,’ I said, chewing on what Helena had told us. ‘Do you realize what we’ve learned?’
‘No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.’ She got up and stole another clean cup and saucer, sitting down to pour herself a fresh cup from the press pot.
She didn’t pour one for me. ‘It was Helena Margraves, not Barry, who made the reservation for Monday and Tuesday night.’
‘Yes, that much I got.’ Caron managed to look bored. ‘So?’
What did she have to do that was more exciting? Paperwork? Making sure the sheets were clean, the towels dry?
Which reminded me I had forgotten to take the rags home to wash. Again. ‘So Helena arrives here on Monday and finds out her husband gave Christy a diamond bracelet. On Tuesday, while she is still in town, her husband is killed.’
‘By a snowplow, don’t forget.’
‘A snowplow that had been left unattended and was pointed in the right direction,’ I reminded her. ‘Warmed up, even.’
‘A smoking gun waiting for somebody to be smoked?’
I glanced sideways at her. ‘Well, yeah. I guess.’
‘But what are the odds of Helena just happening to be there – with the running plow within reach – when Barry Margraves stepped into the street? That would be quite a coincidence, don’t you think?’
‘Not if she was following her husband. Or, more likely, following Christy.’
‘Helena didn’t even know for sure that Barry was there,’ Caron offered. ‘She was just surmising.’
Naïve, like I said. ‘I’m not suggesting Barry’s death was premeditated. But if you knew your husband was in town somewhere and wanted to catch him cheating, wouldn’t you stake out his mistress’ house?’
‘I suppose.’ Caron was stirring her coffee. Clink, clink, clink. ‘Then she hopped into the garbage truck and ran over her husband with the plow? How? She’s too short.’
I didn’t realize short was a defense or I would have used it when I was a suspect. ‘What in the world does her height have to do with it?’
‘Have you ever tried to climb up into one of those county garbage trucks? You need a stepladder.’
‘Honestly, Caron.’ I put my hand on hers to stop the stirring. ‘Do you have no imagination? Maybe the woman has terrific upper body strength and hoisted herself up.’
