Sleuthing for the Weekend

by Jennifer L. Hart

  He waved that off. "The band was all but done anyway. I don't have the time to do it, and Daniel wanted out months ago."

  Just like Wendy had said. "But you played the other night."

  "That was for Elijah. He's a sad little guy, pathetic really. He promised time and again to get some recording producers in there to see us, begged us to help him launch his solo gig. Daniel had backed out months ago, but Elijah kept at him and at him. He doesn't have the chops to be a solo artist, but he lived for the band. And for Lois."

  "Lois?" No way.

  He nodded. "She was the woman who died the other night, the one I told you about. Now they're both gone. He's probably going to crawl into his mother's basement and never come out again."

  "Lois was involved with your bandmate, Elijah," I said, just to be clear.

  Cliff smirked. "She was involved with both of them. Not to speak ill of the dead, but Lois was involved with everybody. Called herself Lady L. She was into the whole power-exchange lifestyle. Actually helped me develop the whole Drill Instructor character for this gig."

  "Mmmhhmm," I said.

  "I'm not judging or anything. She wasn't slutty, but I guess after being married to that turd for so long, she wasn't really interested in an exclusive relationship. You should have seen what she could do with clothespins."

  My jaw dropped, and my mind went blank. "What can you do with clothespins?"

  "Google it sometime." Cliff grinned. "She was a force of nature. Lois took what she needed from the guys, and most of them were happy with what she gave them back."

  He paused to take a gulp from his water bottle, and I interjected, "Elijah wasn't happy with the arrangement?"

  He swallowed and shook his head. "Elijah wanted her all to himself. It got to the point where Lois had to shut him down because he kept haranguing her about it. I think that's why he kept pushing Daniel with the band. He wanted to show Lois he was successful without Daniel and me. Like then she'd be so bowled over with his sex appeal and settle down with him. Poor stupid sod."

  The term motive was swirling around in my brain, probably since good old Cliffy had just handed me a big fat juicy one. Elijah didn't want to share Lady L. Was it possible he'd pulled an if I can't have her no one will? Much like Daniel though, Elijah had been on stage when Lois was murdered. Fifty other bar patrons and I had seen him. Hell of an alibi to get around, and it would take a real sociopath to kill a woman then head out on stage like nothing was off.

  "Who else was Lois with that way?" I probed. "Other than your bandmates?"

  Cliff paused to think. "That cute bartender from Ireland, Sean. Guy's a walking hard-on. Hits on everything with a pulse who comes through the door."

  The one who'd flirted with me and had clammed up when I'd asked him about Daniel and Lois. "Do you know his last name?"

  Cliff nodded. "Sean Murphy."

  "Any idea where he lives?"

  "At a boarding house with a bunch of other college students. He's a full-time student on a study visa at Boston College." Cliff eyed me shrewdly. "You wanna go play with him too, Rash? He was into some pretty weird stuff."

  "Dare I ask?"

  Cliff glanced around, probably to make sure we were alone. "Ever hear of pet play? Lois got a little tipsy one night when we had her over for dinner and admitted that Sean came over to her house and pretended to be a cat."

  "You're kidding."

  "Swear to God. She had a collar and a bowl for him and everything. The dude actually ate cat food. I'm all for fetishes, but that's just way outside of my realm of understanding, yanno?"

  I thought of the stack of Finicky Feline on my kitchen counter and winced. No wonder fat old Hercules didn't seem to like the stuff. He wasn't the only feline Lois had been feeding.

  Shaking off the mental picture of the hot bartender crawling around Lois's kitchen wearing the collar and eating from the dish I'd found, I murmured, "Luckily, I'm seeing someone and not in the market for a cat." I didn't undermine my case by asking for Sean's address either. With the full name and place of employment, Mac could get the info in a heartbeat.

  "Got another class coming in in five, and I need to hit the head. Want to stick around and play lazy recruit again?"

  "Another time. I have to see a man about a cat."

  Cliff winked at me. "Best euphemism ever, Rash. See ya."

  Once back inside Helga, I tried the Captain once again. Still no answer. Maybe like me, his battery was dead, or he'd shut it off. Both Nona and Agnes had a habit of doing that. Len didn't even own a cell phone. I wasn't ready to panic yet. Give that another six hours.

  In the meantime, I had things to consider. Sean had been at The Shipping Lane the night before. He could have slipped out the back door, run over Daniel, and then snuck back in. Much like Elijah and Daniel though, he'd been in my line of sight around the time of Lois's death. I didn't like either of them for Lois's stabbing. I was missing something.

  Or someone.

  Using Bluetooth, I dialed Len's home number. He answered on the first ring.

  "The ladies are out on the front porch," he said. "Is it safe for me to bring them home?"

  "Not yet. Does my mother know about Daniel yet?"

  "I told her after breakfast."

  "How did she take it?"

  "As well as can be expected. I need to go into the office. Do you think it's safe to leave them here alone?"

  Len's house was in a well-to-do neighborhood overlooking Boston Harbor. It would be safe enough, but without his presence, there was no guarantee Lucy and Ethel wouldn't be back out on the streets treasure hunting.

  "Let me make a phone call, and I'll get back to you." I hung up with Len and then scrolled through my phone until I found the contact number for Hunter's youngest sister, Kate.

  "Hey you," Kate answered cheerily. "I heard the big guy bailed on you for your weekend date. Want to tag along with me tonight?"

  "Wish I could, but I need to go to a funeral. Do you think you could do me a favor?"

  "For my favorite sibling's main squeeze? Anything."

  "My mother had a bit of a shock last night, and for reasons too numerous to get into, I don't want to leave them at home without Hunter or me there to look out for them. Do you think you could hang out with them for a few hours? I promise I'll be back in time for you to do your pub crawl thing."

  "Text me the addy."

  "Thanks, Kate. You're a lifesaver."

  I hung up with her and then called Len to let him know someone else would be watching the ladies for the day. I also updated him about my findings, summing up with, "Elijah Hawthorn is my number-one draft pick for killer of the week, being that he was obsessed with Lois and jealous of Daniel." Plus, he'd lied to me about the reason for Daniel's divorce and hadn't bothered to mention his own relationship with the dead bar manager.

  "You said he was on stage, same as O'Flannigan."

  "He was. But someone else might have killed them. I've been thinking this through. Daniel was run down in the street. Lois was hidden behind a locked door. Different method for each. Daniel's feels more like a crime of opportunity, something a desperate person would do on impulse."

  Len didn't discount my theory out of hand or even tell me I was reaching. "Find me evidence."

  "On it, boss."

  I signed off with him then called Mac.

  "Buy a new phone" was her greeting.

  "This one works fine. As long as it's plugged in sixteen hours a day. It's on the same nap schedule as Snickers."

  "Is demon cat gone yet?"

  "Soon, babe. I'm handing him over to the congressman today. Did you get anything from Daniel O'Flannigan's financials?"

  "Everything seems solid. He writes a wicked alimony check every month, but that's about it outside of the bar and his rent. His car's a beater. And no, before you can ask, I looked at the wife's statements and she's clean too. No one paid for a hit."

  I wasn't surprised, but it was good to know for sure. "Listen, do me a f
avor. I need home addresses and also vehicle registration info for Elijah Hawthorn and Sean Murphy. Also anything you can find out about Lady L."

  "I don't know how to get the vehicle stuff," Mac said.

  "Ask your dad. I'll bet he's got plenty of tricks of the trade. Be a good little turncoat and scam a few of them for the woman who gave you life."

  "You've been spending too much time with Nona, the whole guilt trip thing."

  "Is it working?"

  "No."

  "I'll have to try harder. Listen, I'll pick you up after the funeral." And after I tracked down the Captain. I was hoping both Elijah Hawthorn and Sean Murphy would be at Lois's funeral. I planned to plant one of Mac's nifty little bugs on each of my prime suspects and keep a long-distance survey on their movements until the battery died. It might not help, but I was growing desperate enough to give it a shot.

  "Stay safe." Mac hung up, and I passed the rest of the drive back to our building lost in thought.

  A patrol car was parked across the street from our building. Not exactly subtle. I waved to the uniformed police officer behind the wheel, and he gave me a salute. Though I wanted to speak with him, I was running out of time, and there was another conversation that was past due.

  Crystal opened Hunter's door on the first knock. She was dressed in a pale pink cable-knit sweater and artfully ripped jeans. Not the kind I donned when I needed to clean out the gutters but the sort that costs more than my monthly coffee habit. In other words, big bucks.

  "Where's Hunter?" she asked when she saw me.

  "At the moment? I haven't the foggiest. Listen, there's a police patrol car sitting across the street."

  "There is?" I'd meant to reassure her, but from the way she raced to the window, it was obvious I'd done the opposite. "What's he doing there?"

  "Um, protecting you. From your stalker."

  She let the curtain fall back into place. "I never said I had a stalker."

  "You told us that someone was trying to kill you. Or did I get that wrong, too?"

  "Yes, he's trying to kill me, but he's not stalking me."

  I held up both hands. "Okay, as much as I want to play twenty questions over who this guy is and what he's up to, I'm on a tight timeline, so you better give me the highlights. Who is this guy, and why do you think he's trying to kill you?"

  She put her hands on her round hips. "I don't see why I should tell you a damn thing."

  I let out a disgusted sound. "Look, I'm going to level with you. Hunter is undercover, and with the raging party atmosphere of all the Boston treasure hunters getting their Irish on, there's a pretty good chance that uniform is going to get called out at some point in the near future. Give me a name, any name, and I will pass it along to Hunter."

  "Are you sleeping with my husband?" She narrowed her Disney princess baby blues on me.

  "Ex-husband," I corrected without venom. "And that's not really any of your business. I'm trying to help, but I need something to go on. Who is it that's making you feel unsafe?"

  "My father," she whispered.

  O-kay. Not what I'd been expecting, but it was a place to start. "Biological?"

  She wrapped her arms around herself and dropped her head in what I took as confirmation.

  "Did he threaten you?"

  Another head drop. "He tried to choke me."

  She lowered the neckline of her sweater to reveal a pattern of bruises encircling her slender throat.

  I swore long and low and foul. "Is this the first time he's done that?"

  She shook her head. "No, though it's been a while."

  "Tell me what happened." Sometimes when I issued a statement instead of asking a question, people were more likely to open up to me.

  "I lost my job and had to move back home with him. I didn't have enough money to keep up my apartment." She sniffled and used her sleeve to wipe at her eyes.

  Hunter, being a typical man, doesn't bother to buy tissues, so I headed into the bathroom and tore off a length of toilet paper.

  Crystal took it from me. "Thanks. He's got a drug problem, a bad one. He went to NA when the bank was going to foreclose on his mortgage. He told me he was clean and was going to stay clean. It's why I moved home, to help take care of him."

  "But he was still using," I guessed.

  She nodded. "When I found it, I flushed his stash. He was furious, said he was going to choke the life out of me."

  Hunter had come from a similar background, an abusive, alcoholic father. He would never have turned Crystal away. Something she, as his ex-wife, would have known. He would have kept her safe, no matter what. It's what the good guys did.

  I blew out a breath. "You need to call the police, report him."

  "I can't." She gripped my arm. "Don't you get it? He's my father. I can't send him to prison."

  I shivered, unsettled by the parallels in our thinking. Was this Hunter's type? Women with blatant daddy issues? I would have to think about that later, when my head wasn't about to explode. "Do you really think he'll come after you?"

  She nodded. "I hit him with the toaster. It's the only reason I got away. He's going to be furious. When he comes to. He'd never look for me here. Hunter hates him."

  "I'll bet." Then her words sank in, and I held up a hand. "Wait a second. You said you knocked him out with a toaster?"

  "It was the only thing I could reach."

  "He was unconscious when you left? And there was no one else there? Was he breathing?"

  Her pale face went two shades paler, making her look like a ghost on the verge of fading into oblivion. "I…I don't know. You don't think I…killed him?" The last two words came out as a squeak.

  My cell phone was already in my hand, and I shoved it toward her. "Call him. He won't recognize the number, but at least you'll know if he answers. If he picks up, hand me the phone."

  She dialed, and we both waited as the other line rang once, twice, a third time.

  "It's his voice mail." She looked terrified.

  "What's his name?"

  "Gus Kent."

  I took the phone from her and waited for the automated message to regurgitate the number and then put some extra pep in my voice. "Hi there, Gus Kent. This is Melody from Data Dashers. Congratulations! You've won the newest iPhone and a year's service in our new store promotion. Call me back at this number so we can set you up with your prize."

  I disconnected and faced my boyfriend's ex. "Is there anyone you could call to go check on him? Make sure he's all right?"

  She shook her head. "No. My brother died…"

  Yeah, I knew about that. Hunter had been a college teammate with her brother, who'd died in a DUI. Since Hunter had been the team's standard designated driver, he'd blamed himself for not going out with them that weekend. In classic Hunter fashion, he had taken it upon himself to look out for Crystal. I still wasn't sure if he'd married her out of that same sense of guilt or if playing surrogate big brother/hero-on-call had morphed into a less platonic relationship. What I did know was that she'd broken his heart and I wanted her out of his apartment and our lives ASAP.

  "Okay, well you have two options. Either find someone to check on him, or you could call the police to do it for you. Your choice."

  Her teeth sank into her puffy lower lip. "He might just be passed out."

  "Or in a coma from internal hemorrhage." I didn't know if that was actually a possibility after getting clocked with a toaster, but it elicited the reaction I wanted.

  She gasped and shook her head.

  "Crystal, you've been here for two days already. The man might be dying, if not dead already. We have no idea when Hunter will be back, and every minute you stall might be your father's last."

  She turned her face up to me, blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. "Would you go check on him?"

  Not what I'd been angling for. "I can't. I have somewhere to be." By the time I got Hercules stuffed into his carrier, patched up whatever indignities he inflicted on me, and made it out the d
oor, I was already going to be cutting it close.

  "Please, I don't have anyone else." One of the tears spilled over.

  I dropped my head in defeat. "What's his address?"

  * * *

  "What's one more person who tries to kill me?" I grumbled to the hissing cat carrier. "No, really? If Mom knew I was wearing jeans and a hoodie to a funeral, she would have kittens."

  Hercules was especially pissy because I'd used my superior intellect to lure him into the carrier. Like me, he would do anything for food. He'd finished the lasagna I'd left on the coffee table earlier, which had given me the idea. I cut another wedge, heated it for a minute, and then scraped it into his food bowl and set it inside the carrier. When the Garfield wannabe had gone in to investigate, I'd locked the door behind him.

  "None of that now," I said as he threw a royal hissy. Either he didn't actually like Kelly Black's lasagna or—more likely—he'd finished it and was now giving me a piece of his feline mind.

  The carrier was perched in the passenger's bucket seat. It might be wrong to bring a cat to a funeral, but I had no doubt that Lois would be okay with her precious cat at her service.

  What she was probably less thrilled with was the fact that her brother might have killed her.

  The idea had been rolling around in my brain since discovering Lois's fetish. Things like that could ruin a career politician's life. It was one thing that his sister was divorced, but another entirely that she was known by many as Lady L, mistress of the Irish pub scene. Mac had texted me just as I was leaving to let me know that Lady L had a freaking website advertising her services as a financial Domme.

  Financial Domme??? I'd texted her back. Dare I ask?

  A woman who helps men control their finances through physical, mental, and emotional subjugation, for a fee, naturally."

  Accountant by day and dominatrix by night. Go figure. This is a real job? How does it work?

  Not sure exactly, but the site makes it sound totally anonymous, everything happening through texts and messages and instant transfer.

  Java have mercy. Did she lose some poor schmoe's lifesavings? Or maybe pull a Madoff?