by Sandra Balzo
I checked the time, just past nine. Maybe I could catch Helena at the hotel before she left and ask her.
I picked up my phone.
‘Thank you for waiting,’ I told the accommodating widow when she opened the door of her room on the sixth floor of the Slattery.
‘Your call made me curious,’ she said, stepping aside to let me in. ‘My flight is at one p.m., so I need to be downstairs getting a ride-share by eleven.’
The time was now ten thirty. ‘Give me twenty minutes now and I’ll take you to the airport myself.’
‘Deal.’ She swept her hand toward a couch. ‘Have a seat.’
‘Nice room,’ I said, looking around at the well-appointed suite, with its vaulted ceiling.
‘And nice bill,’ she said, picking up a sheet of paper from the coffee table. ‘Your friend didn’t give me a discount, from what I can see.’
‘He said he’d give you family and friends pricing,’ I said. ‘But knowing his mother, that wouldn’t be much of a discount. And Stephen must answer to his mother, believe me.’
‘Wise of you to choose the sheriff,’ she said with a sly smile. ‘Mother-in-laws are forever.’
‘As my ex has found out,’ I said.
‘That’s right,’ Helena said. ‘Your ex married Stephen’s sister.’
‘Rachel,’ I said. ‘Karma is a bitch and so is Mother Slattery. Sometimes I feel sorry for Ted.’
‘I bet you do.’ She set down the hotel bill. ‘But you said you had something to show me?’
I pulled the papers from Barry’s suitcase out of my purse. ‘You said that you had seen Christy’s address on the back of this paper.’
‘Yes. That’s how I knew who she was and where to find her.’
I flattened the papers. ‘And Christy’s name and address here is in Barry’s handwriting?’
‘I told you that.’ She checked her watch.
‘Did you also see what was on the reverse side?’ I turned over the paper.
‘The charge card transactions?’ She sat down next to me and pulled the bill closer. ‘Barry must have printed this from the website. I almost had a heart attack when I saw it.’
‘Then it was you who highlighted these entries?’ I pointed at the three.
‘Highlight them? No. I wanted to burn the thing when I saw it. Or better yet, stuff it down Barry’s throat.’
‘This one.’ I pointed at the Heathrow ticket. ‘Did you plan to fly to Heathrow from Milwaukee with him for some reason?’
‘Have you lost your mind?’ she said, not unreasonably. ‘I didn’t even know Barry was in Milwaukee in the first place. And with his mistress, no less. I certainly didn’t fly here to go on holiday with him. Or kill him, I might add.’
Always good to know. ‘Then if you didn’t highlight these transactions, your husband must have.’
She was staring at me, uncomprehendingly. ‘I assume so. Why?’
I pulled my phone from my purse and punched up the picture of the envelope to show her. ‘This envelope arrived at Christy’s address with a diamond in it. I assume it’s what the thirty-four thousand, seven hundred and eighty-nine dollars to Gemology was for.’
At my words, Helena closed her eyes and seemed to count to the full ten before opening them. ‘I will stipulate that my beloved husband was a cheating son of a bitch. I don’t need to have you put more proof in front of me.’
‘I have proof of something,’ I said. ‘But it’s not what you think.’
I enlarged the photo. ‘Look at the envelope, Helena. It’s addressed to Christy at the same address you saw on the back of the credit card transactions. But I don’t think it’s the same handwriting.’
She cocked her head before reaching out for my phone to study the photo again. ‘That’s not Barry’s handwriting.’
‘But it is your return address?’
‘It is.’ She handed the phone back to me. ‘What does it mean? He had somebody else send it to her?’
‘Maybe,’ I said, setting the phone down. ‘But combine that with the highlighted bill, I can’t help but wonder—’
Helena was losing patience. ‘I really need to finish packing,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘If you’re just cogitating on something, you can do that without me.’
‘Wait.’ I held up my hand and – unlike my dogs and her husband – Helena obeyed. And then even sat for good measure. Her husband would be alive today if he had taken orders that well.
But there had been something else going on with Barry. I was almost certain of it.
I continued. ‘Forget that Barry was your husband and that you believe he was cheating. If you just saw this paper, what would you think?’
She took it again. ‘That somebody had marked the questionable purchases, I guess. Things that he wanted to check on or keep track of. But—’
‘But,’ I said significantly, ‘maybe that’s exactly what Barry did. He saw the charges and realized there were purchases he hadn’t made.’
‘If he didn’t make them, then why not just ask me about them?’ Helena demanded.
It was a good question, but not hard to answer. ‘Two obvious jewelry purchases? Maybe he was afraid you’d jump to conclusions and hoped he could clear things up before you ever saw them.’
‘But I wouldn’t have jumped …’ She stopped herself and then took a long breath before starting again. ‘About two years after we got married, Barry had what he called a “slip”.’ She waved her hands. ‘Detail aren’t important, but I told him if it ever happened again, I’d leave him.’
‘Then he had a lot at stake,’ I said quietly.
‘Yes. Yes, he did.’
We sat in silence for a second. Helena roused herself. ‘Are you suggesting that Barry came here for the same reason I did – to find out who this Christy is?’
‘I guess I am. Or at least I’m suggesting it’s a possibility.’
‘But think about what you’re saying. It would mean that your friend Christy isn’t a slut sleeping with a married man, but that she is an outright thief.’
Fraud, Pavlik had said when they brought Christy in for questioning.
Helena had tilted her head to look me in the eye. ‘Are you prepared for that?’
‘Honestly, no,’ I said. ‘I can see how Christy could be duped, but to just steal outright?’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t think it’s in her DNA.’
Helena was frowning. ‘I found Christy because Barry had written down her address. If what you’re saying is true, how did he get it in the first place?’
‘Probably called Tiffany’s or the gemology place and they gave it to him.’ Another thought came to me. ‘The security questions she set up would have pointed to her, too, but I don’t think financial institutions will give them to you if you say you’ve lost them. They just make you do new ones.’
‘The what?’ Helena seemed genuinely confused.
‘Christy added security questions to Barry’s accounts.’
‘For security from whom? She’s the thief.’
‘That’s one of the reasons this whole thing doesn’t make sense to me. Christy told me she beefed up security because the passwords were the same on everything.’
Helena cast her eyes skyward – or vaulted ceiling-ward, in this case. ‘Our first dog’s name and birthday. He died ten years ago and so Barry figured nobody could guess it. Nothing I said could move him to change them up. I can’t imagine how she managed it.’ Helena sounded more hurt than resentful.
‘Christy? She didn’t change usernames or passwords, but she did make up her own security questions when the website cued her to do it for authentication purposes. And she answered them with her own information.’
‘Like her mother’s maiden name, rather than Barry’s?’ Helena asked, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.
‘She didn’t know his, I guess, so she answered with what she did know.’
‘How very convenient for her.’ Helena pulled the brocade pillow out from behind her and p
unched it twice before throwing it across the room.
I was happy it wasn’t me, since I was within arms’ reach as well. ‘To be fair, she said she couldn’t access the accounts without adding them.’
‘Well, boo-hoo. Then how about staying the hell out of the accounts?’ Helena said. ‘And my life while she was at it.’
I sighed, shaking my head. ‘I know. But Christy swore that Barry gave her permission to go into the accounts. I assume she intended to give him the answers.’
‘Good of her.’ Sarcastic now, and she had every right. ‘What does the sheriff think about all this? Have they arrested her?’
‘Pavlik doesn’t know about the handwriting not matching yet.’ I admitted, feeling my face redden. ‘Or my suspicion that Barry might have been as in the dark about what was going on as you were.’
‘I thought you slept with the sheriff,’ she said. ‘One eye open, remember?’
‘I do remember,’ I said. ‘He left to visit his dad in Chicago early today before I had a chance to tell him.’
‘Really.’
‘Besides, I wasn’t certain,’ I admitted. ‘I needed to make sure that you hadn’t made the notations on the bill and confirm that it wasn’t Barry’s handwriting on the envelope.’
‘Where is the envelope now?’ she asked. ‘And the diamond?’
‘The sheriff’s department has it,’ I told her.
‘And the bracelet?’
‘Last I knew, Christy still has it.’ I was trying to read Helena’s expression. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Well, it’s evidence, too, right? First she said it was stolen and then she miraculously finds it in her pocket.’
I had suspected the bracelet had been placed there by Helena. But now everything had turned on its ear. ‘You don’t know anything about that, right?’
‘Why would I? I just hope that Tiffany’s takes returns.’
I didn’t want to be there if the two women squared off again over the jewelry. Although the way it was shaping up for Christy, she might not have need of it for a few years. ‘We’d better go if you’re going to catch your plane.’
Helena stood. ‘My flight’s not until four. I lied to get rid of you.’
‘Nice.’
‘I am nice,’ she said. ‘Which is why I didn’t hang up when you called or slam the door in your face when you got here.’
I would call that more passive aggressive than nice, but OK.
‘Let’s go,’ Helena said, beckoning me to get up.
‘Go where?’ I asked, acquiescing. ‘You just told me your flight wasn’t until four. Do you want to sit in the airport for four hours?’
‘No. Which is why I’m going wherever you’re going next.’ Helena extended the handle of her roller bag. ‘This is my life you’re playing detective with. My husband, who is dead for no apparent reason. I want in.’
Then ‘in’, I thought, she shall get.
‘You’re late,’ Sarah called from the back as I opened the door of Uncommon Grounds.
‘My fault,’ Helena said, following me in from the porch.
‘You don’t have to say that,’ I told her. ‘That’s Sarah’s greeting whenever I come in, no matter how early or late I am.’
‘Maybe.’ Sarah appeared. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Me? I’d like a latte,’ Helena said, pulling off her coat. ‘Is our little thief here?’
‘Christy?’ Sarah asked, seeming bemused and more than a little entertained. ‘She’s not working today.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘We can talk freely.’
‘Works for me.’ Sarah lifted a latte mug for Helena to see. ‘For here, I assume?’
‘The drink can wait,’ Helena said, waving for us to join her at a table by the window. ‘Come sit.’
Sarah did as she was told, another monumental achievement, and we filled her in.
Sarah was sitting back in her chair shaking her head as we finished. ‘Are you telling me that Barry Margraves came here not to meet the new love of his life, but to find the woman who was stealing from him?’
‘That’s pretty much it,’ I told her. ‘Or at least what we suspect.’
‘What about the account information?’ Sarah asked. ‘Numbers, passwords? If Barry didn’t give them to Christy, where did they come from?’
That stopped me. I glanced at Helena. ‘I don’t know the answer to that. Have you had any indication you’ve been hacked or had your identities stolen?’
‘You mean other than having every last cent sucked out of our accounts?’ Helena asked. ‘And every credit card charged to the max with the exception of the one I keep for business?’
It was the very definition of being hacked, of course.
‘And thank God I had that,’ Helena was saying, ‘given the “special” rate your friend charged me at the Slattery.’
Yeah, yeah, yeah – try to do somebody a favor. While simultaneously sniffing out information, of course. But back to the hack: ‘How in the world would Christy pull off something like this by herself?’
‘Who says she’s in it by herself?’ Sarah said. ‘Don’t you think her dumping Ronny came out of nowhere?’
‘Ronny? How could he … oh, God.’ The last thing I wanted was that psycho back in our lives since I still had one. No thanks to him.
‘It makes sense,’ Sarah said, leaning forward. ‘Ronny is a master manipulator and as gullible as Christy is—’
‘Who’s Ronny?’ Helena asked.
‘Christy’s not that gullible. At least I don’t think so.’ I shook my head. ‘When I heard her talking about wire transfers, I was afraid Barry might be stealing from her. Certainly not the other way around.’
‘Who’s Ronny?’ Helena repeated.
‘Christy’s boyfriend before she met Barry.’ Or didn’t meet Barry. ‘And Sarah’s cousin.’
‘Step-cousin, thank you very much,’ Sarah said, getting up. ‘Anybody else want a coffee?’
‘Sure,’ Helena said. ‘Assuming then you will get back here and explain to me how your cousin is involved.’
‘Step-cousin,’ Sarah said again, disappearing into the service area.
‘I’m not even sure step-cousin is correct,’ I told Helena. ‘Ronny’s father Kornell married Sarah’s Auntie Vi late in life.’
‘Meaning there’s no nature or nurture about this,’ Sarah said from the window as she pulled espresso shots. ‘Ronny is plain up batshit crazy and that comes from Kornell and his family. Nothing to do with us Kingstons.’
Helena glanced at me.
I shrugged. ‘It’s true. Kornell was pretty out there, too.’
‘And that was before the train hit him,’ Sarah contributed.
‘You don’t mean this train,’ Helena said, pointing to the ‘Way to Trains’ sign above the corridor to the platform.
‘Unfortunately, yes,’ I said. ‘He was hard of hearing and—’
‘Nearly blind,’ Sarah said. ‘He should never have been driving, but you couldn’t tell the crazy old coot anything.’
Helena had her legs crossed and now her foot convulsively kicked me. ‘Sorry.’
I moved my chair a bit away.
‘You do seem to have a problem here, though,’ Helena said, foot still bouncing up and down. ‘People being hit by unlikely … things.’
Trains, snowplows – not so unusual at a train station in the winter in Wisconsin, but I could see how it might appear.
‘Flat whites?’ Sarah asked, appearing at the table with two drinks.
‘Umm, yes,’ Helena said, wrapping her hands around the cup Sarah slid to her.
I took the other and Sarah retrieved hers and sat down with it. ‘If you put it in perspective, there’s only been those two accidents in the year since we’ve been open here. The odds of another happening anytime soon have to be astronomical.’
That was true, though it didn’t change the fact that Helena’s husband had already been victim of one of them.
‘But back to Chri
sty,’ Sarah continued. ‘I agree that Christy isn’t a criminal mastermind, but what if Ronny hatched the plot.’
‘And that plot was what?’ I asked.
‘Identity theft,’ Sarah said, coming up from her sip of flat white with a milk foam mustache. ‘Christy pretends to dump him and – poor lonely thing – goes fishing for men.’
‘Fishing.’ I rubbed at my own upper lip.
She took the hint and licked hers off. ‘Yes, fishing with an “F” or a “P H”, however you want to spell it.’
Cute.
‘Then bingo,’ Sarah continued, ‘she lands a rich one.’
‘We’re not rich,’ objected Helena, who had lifted her drink and now set it down again.
‘No?’ Sarah said. ‘Sure couldn’t tell that from the Google Earth of your house. Looked plenty big to me.’
‘You do have an inground pool,’ I reminded her. ‘And a Mercedes parked in the drive—’
‘You Google Earthed my house?’ Helena interrupted as if the cyber-intrusion might be the last straw.
‘Christy Google Earthed your house,’ I said, cringing a bit. ‘She showed it to us. Sorry.’
‘That’s OK,’ Helena said, uncrossing her leg and putting both feet flat on the ground, like she wanted to flee. ‘I guess.’
But Sarah was on a roll, Helena’s feelings be damned. ‘Now once Christy’s found her target, she sets about stealing his personal information.’
‘How?’ I asked. ‘Christy’s not a cyber-criminal. She’s a piano teacher.’
‘I told you,’ Sarah insisted. ‘She’s a piano teacher with a boyfriend surrounded by criminals twenty-four/seven. I’m sure Ronny could get a few tips from his cellmates to pass on to his accomplice outside.’
His accomplice being Christy. ‘Pavlik has Christy’s mobile. He could see if there’s been any recent contact between Christy and Ronny.’
‘She might have another phone,’ Helena said, getting in the spirit.
‘The prison records would show who Ronny talked with, too,’ I said. ‘And speaking of burner phones, there is no trace of the burner phone we assumed Barry had. Maybe because—’
