Amy King Cozy Mysteries- The Complete Series

by N. C. Lewis

  "Indeed I do," the doctor replied. "Indeed I do. Well, if things change, you are more than welcome to tag along, balance out the group a little." He turned and left.

  "Detective King?" Vinny Snyder stared at Nick as if trying to decide if they had met before.

  "I don't believe we have met, at least not formally," Nick said, putting an end to Vinny's quizzical gaze.

  "Well, nice to meet you," Vinny said, flashing a Hollywood smile. "Please, join me in my office. We'll be more comfortable."

  The office had whitewashed walls plastered with framed theater and film cuttings. It was only a touch larger than the reception area. A fake palm tree stood in an oversized pot in the corner, it's leaves gray with dust. Stacks of magazines lined a crooked shelf, and a portrait of Vinny in his younger years was propped awkwardly against the tiny window, which despite the odor of mold and dampness that lingered in the room, remained firmly shut.

  Nick took the seat opposite the large desk, that stood at an awkward angle, leaving Chambers slumbering in the reception area.

  "I take it this is about Danny?" Vinny asked, settling into his seat.

  Nick figured the direct approach would work best. "Yes, it—"

  "Have you found his killer?" interrupted Vinny. His eyes bore into Nick like laser beams.

  "Not yet," Nick replied bluntly. "We are following up on leads; that is why I am here."

  Vinny slumped in his chair. "If this were the movies you'd have the bad guy in jail by now."

  Nick took that as a cry of frustration and not criticism. He was warming to Vinny and liked the man. He was direct, straightforward, easy to read. "A witness mentioned you said Miles Block, the event organizer, was responsible for Danny's death."

  Vinny leaned back in his chair laughing. "That's true. Absolutely true. In the heat of the discovery, I blamed Miles."

  "Why?"

  "The truth?"

  "Please."

  Again, Vinny flashed his Hollywood smile. "He was the first person I recognized after seeing Danny slumped on the ground with his head smashed in." He paused, color draining from his face as he recollected events of that evening. "I couldn’t believe Danny was gone, had to blame someone, so I blamed Miles. I even blamed the security guard, said he was directly responsible. Frankly, if you'd have been standing there, Detective King, I would have even pointed the finger at you. I'm such a hothead!"

  Nick changed the subject. "Can you tell me about Charles Goulart?"

  Vinny stared at him; his smile transformed into a frown. "What do you want to know?"

  Nick countered with another question. "You know Charles?"

  "Yeah, I know him."

  Nick took out his notebook. "How would you describe him?"

  "A two-bit actor. They're a dime a dozen around these parts. Thinks he's the undiscovered Humphrey Bogart. The truth? No talent, great in the chorus line and that's about it."

  "But he was friends with Danny?"

  "If you call it that. They went to acting school together. That was some years before I'd met Danny. Their paths went in different directions after that. Danny liked having Charles around, though."

  "Why?"

  "So he could rub Charles's nose in his success. That was Danny for you, never happy unless someone saw and acknowledged his greatness. Not nice, but that is how he was, how most successful actors are. They are all a lot like Hill Country skunks."

  "How so?"

  "They travel alone, not with the pack. Goes with the territory."

  "So, how would you describe their relationship?"

  "They loathed each other. Charles hated Danny."

  "Enough to kill him?"

  Vinny didn’t hesitate. "Yes." He leaned forward, picked up a loose leaf of paper from the desk, put it down in a different spot and looked Nick directly in the eyes. "That's if he could stay sober long enough, but he can’t. He was as drunk as... how can I put it… ah yes, a skunk at Danny's reunion party."

  Nick considered this for a moment. On more than one occasion he'd investigated a murder that had occurred at the hand of a drunk. Some people get merry, others angry.

  "Charles gets aggressive when he drinks, you know, all lippy and wild-eyed," Vinny added as if reading Nick's mind. "But he couldn’t be the killer."

  "Why not?"

  "Can’t hold a note to save his life."

  Chapter 23

  Noel sat at his tiny desk in Dr. Walden's office staring at the clock on the pine wall. It was a little after one in the afternoon. He took a bite of his tuna sandwich, chewed it slowly, swallowed, and looked back at the clock—still, a little after one. It was very quiet on a regular day, but today Dr. Walden had made a house call and was out of the office.

  He'd taken precisely one call all day. It was from a Mr. Duke Savage who'd asked if Dr. Walden was available later that afternoon. Noel suggested he stop by the next day, but the man had insisted on meeting Dr. Walden that evening. "Well, if it is urgent," Noel had said. "He is dining with a few friends this evening at Hansel's House. I'm sure he won't mind if you catch up with him for a few minutes."

  Noel shifted in his seat, took another bite, glanced at his cell phone, then put it on his desk. There was only so much time one could spend on social media before that too became a bore. With Dr. Walden absent, the place seemed deader than usual. Not a footstep, not a cough, not so much as a creaking door. He closed his eyes, felt as if he was in some great Egyptian tomb, a place where time stands still, except, of course, he could hear the ticking of the clock.

  "I'll last till the end of the month," he muttered under his breath. "If I can take the boredom, that is. Flipping burgers has got to be better than this."

  Again he touched his cell phone, and again he put it back down. At the far corner of the desk, his eyes rested on the appointment book. He reached out, flipping it open. Only two appointments today, including the house call. The other, in thirty minutes with Ms. Megan Finney. He paused, reread the name. It sounded familiar. Where had he heard it before?

  Footsteps in the hallway outside the office caused him to sit up. Dr. Walden was back, and early. But the sound quickly faded away. "Must have been another resident of the building. Can't say I've met any since I've been here though." That got him thinking about the appointment book. He picked it up and flipped through the past month and then forward to the present and future appointments. On a good day, he noted, Dr. Walden had only four appointments, on a slow day one or two. How does he make a living?

  Noel pulled out a pen and paper, estimated the cost of renting the office, figured in utilities and taxes and compared it to client payments. The numbers didn’t add up. He changed his assumption about the rent and utilities, even assumed clients paid twice the going rate. Still, the numbers didn’t add up. The business, he concluded, was running at a loss—a big one. How could Dr. Walden afford to hire him as an administrative assistant?

  "Hello there," called a deep husky female voice.

  Noel's head jerked up from the sheet of paper. He hadn’t heard the door open, or the footsteps on the hard concrete floor which always alerted of a visitor.

  A heavy-set woman, in her late fifties with a jovial face grinned at him. She had a large handbag slung across her shoulder. "Made ya jump, didn't I? Didn't see me coming did ya? They never do. Catch 'em by surprise every single time. The name is Megan Finney, I'm here to see the doc."

  Then it struck Noel, this was the woman Amy hired to help with Studio Shoal Seven. This was the woman who'd helped stage the photo shoot at Danny Fontane's relaunch party. Noel tensed, his eyes wide with horror. He didn’t want to be recognized, not sitting behind this cheap, rickety desk in a dingy office.

  Megan grinned. "Know I'm a little early; my big sister Hillary chased me out of the house! Is the good doc ready for me now?"

  She didn’t recognize him! Noel felt grateful for that. He didn’t enjoy working as an administrative assistant. He did it to keep the peace with Ruby and give him time to think about his n
ext steps. It seemed somehow shameful to go from a high-flying executive position to this dingy office, and he wanted no one outside his immediate family to know about it. He felt that way although Megan did not know about his former high-flying career.

  "No," he said at last. "The doc is not available at the moment. Please take a seat, and I'll let you know when he is ready."

  Megan's grin grew, and she stared at Noel in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. She knows who I am, he thought, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Noel slid back in his chair. Soon she would humiliate him by saying, "Aren’t you that executive who worked at Battle Equity Partners?" But, to Noel's astonishment, that is not what she said or did.

  Instead, Megan put her hands on his desk, leaned forward, her eyes wide open, teeth bared in an almost savage fashion, and roared.

  Noel almost toppled from his seat, correcting himself at the very last moment, retaining, he hoped, some modicum of dignity.

  "Made ya jump again! Ha-ha-ha-ha." Megan turned, still laughing and slipped into a plastic chair, pulled out a magazine from her handbag and read.

  After a short while Noel relaxed, Megan had no idea who he was. The woman, he thought, was a little "out there." Hadn't Amy mentioned her odd behavior? Yes, he remembered it all now, said Megan was a little quirky.

  Again Noel glanced over to where Megan sat. It was only then he noticed with growing trepidation the title of the magazine that so engrossed her—UNSOLVED MURDER MYSTERIES OF TEXAS: How they did it and how they got away with it.

  Chapter 24

  "Good afternoon," boomed Dr. Walden striding into the office. "Things running smoothly?" he asked looking at Noel.

  "Very good. Everything is under control," Noel replied.

  The doctor turned to Megan. "Ah, Ms. Finney, you have a lot to tell me, no doubt. Follow me; we must begin at once. I'm sure this will be a revealing session."

  Megan slipped the magazine into her handbag, stood, and as she turned to follow Dr. Walden into his room, made a scary face at Noel. Startled, he tipped back in his chair. He could hear Megan's laughter as Dr. Walden's office door closed.

  While earlier Noel was bored, now his senses were on edge. Why had Amy hired such a fruitcake? He could only imagine that she was a great worker. But even then, with that nuttiness, it seemed like a strange hire to him.

  He went back to staring at the clock—a little after one thirty. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. When he worked for Battles Equity Partners, he'd go for a short walk after lunch. It took him out of the building and along a crowded street to the local Costa Coffee shop. The chain seemed to have a store on virtually every street corner in London. The coffee was wonderful, food exceptional, and the atmosphere always welcoming in a friendly British way.

  But since joining Dr. Walden's enterprise, he'd taken to eating at his desk. His only after-lunch exercise were the two strides it took to walk to the filing cabinet and back. It was too hot to walk outside in Austin during the summer; he'd melt in the one hundred degree heat. So this day he sat at his desk, stomach filled with a tuna sandwich, snoozing.

  At first, he thought he must've been dreaming, then as consciousness gained its grasp, he believed his ears to be playing some grotesque trick. It was only when he stood up, shaking the last vestiges of sleep from his mind that he understood it was no dream, and his hearing was sound.

  The noise came from behind the closed doors of Dr. Walden's office.

  Noel tilted his head to better hear. It was a melodic, tuneful melody that although muffled seemed strangely familiar. He couldn’t make out the words.

  Cautiously Noel crept forward to the closed office door, leaned in, placing his ear against the wood. His eyes grew wide at the realization there were no words, only the sound of a voice.

  Noel and Ruby had visited West End Theaters frequently during their time in London. It seemed to him the voice was operatic—a contralto, like singer Annie Lennox from the 1980s British band The Eurythmics.

  Finally, as the sound waves passed through the flimsy door as easily as a ghost passes through walls, he knew. It was the humming he had heard at Danny Fontane's murder. It wasn't a similar sound, it was exactly the same!

  Noel stumbled backward, hands trembling, regained his posture, and hurried to sit behind his desk. Megan was at the Danny Fontane party, hadn't Danielle told him she disappeared as soon as the photo shoot was over? Other guests loitered in the lobby, eating and drinking. He racked his brain trying to recall if he had seen her among the throng and came up with a blank.

  The office door flew open.

  "One of our better sessions," Dr. Walden said, leading Megan out into the lobby.

  "Agreed," Megan commented, following closely behind the doctor. "Now the whole sordid thing is off my chest, I feel so much better."

  She turned, smiled at Noel. "I'm sorry for upsetting you earlier. Hillary makes me do things I don't want to do. I guess that's big sisters for you." Then she left the building.

  Dr. Walden retreated into his office.

  For a moment Noel wondered what to do. Before his thoughts could crystalize into action, a short, dark-skinned man walked into the reception area carrying a long cane made of polished cedarwood. With each step, his cane struck the concrete floor with a sharp crack. At the desk, his old cobalt blue eyes took in Noel as if assessing his very essence.

  "I come meet Señor Walden. He see me now."

  Noel glanced at the appointment book—nothing. "Do you have an appointment?"

  The man's corrugated face crumpled into a frown. "No need. You tell him I here."

  "And your name, sir?"

  The old man smacked the cane on the concrete floor. It let off a pistol crack. "I no give name." With that, he strode by the desk and flung open the office door.

  Nick saw Dr. Walden rise to his feet, glass tumbler in hand, move quickly toward the door. "Ah, Señor Pacheco come in, come in," the doctor said. "I have good news for you."

  As the closed office door damped out the two men's voices Noel grabbed his phone, speed dialed Nick.

  Nick picked up on the first ring. "Noel, going in with the lieutenant any moment. He pushed our meeting back an hour. I may have to hang up if I get the call. What's up?"

  "It's about the Danny Fontane case," Noel said, trying to control the quiver in his voice.

  "What about it?"

  "And the humming."

  "So you remember the name of the tune?" Nick asked hopefully.

  "No."

  "Then what is it?"

  Noel's voice dropped to a whisper. "I know who killed Danny."

  Nick was silent for a moment. "Who?"

  Noel glanced around. The reception area was empty. Dr. Walden was in the office with another of his mysterious clients. He drew in a deep breath. "The woman Amy hired to help with the staging business. She's odd; you remember her."

  "How do you know?" Nick's voice was emotionless; he was in detective mode.

  "Just heard her humming."

  "Humming?"

  "Yes, the exact tune I heard when I discovered Danny."

  "Exact?"

  "Exact."

  There was a long pause. Noel heard the rustling of paper. "What's her name?"

  "Megan Finney."

  Chapter 25

  It was a little before four in the afternoon when Amy and Danielle arrived at Megan's home. The afternoon shadows were lengthening, cooling the sidewalk without denting the oppressive heat and humidity.

  "Amy girl! You sure we got the right place?" Danielle's eyes darted apprehensively from the rutted driveway to the rusted washing machine, tangled pile of bicycles, and the battered Toyota Corolla propped up on concrete blocks.

  "This is the address Megan gave," replied Amy, picking her way around a disorganized collection of plastic garbage bags on the front porch. "Thought it was an apartment building but looks like it's a single home converted into tiny apartments." She peered at the yellowing name tags, each with its own bell, attached
to a wooden panel that hung on the wall beside the front door. "Can't see a Finney here."

  "Can hardly read the letters!" commented Danielle, staring over Amy's shoulder. "By the looks of things, they were the names of the original tenants. Do you have an apartment number?"

  Amy glanced at her cell phone. "Ground floor, unit seven. "

  "Doesn’t correspond to any of the tags; see, they start with unit A," observed Danielle wrinkling her nose.

  For a moment they stepped back gazing at the front door and the name tags, the shade of the house offering temporary relief from the unrelenting heat. It was clear the names hadn’t been changed in a while, and they either had the wrong address or the landlord had at some point moved from a lettering system to numeric for distinguishing units. Either way it was confusing.

  "Why don't you call her?" Danielle said at last.

  Amy placed a hand on her chin. "I wanted to pay a surprise visit."

  "Why?"

  Amy thought for a moment. " I don't know… I wanted to see Megan in her natural habitat."

  "So, Megan is a zoo specimen now?"

  "You know what I mean! Get a more rounded view of my employee… and find out if she knows anything about Danny Fontane's death."

  Danielle fanned herself. "Okay, but it's hot out here, and we don't know which apartment is correct. If you call her, we'll at least get inside where there's air-conditioning."

  Amy dialed. After seven rings, the voice mail clicked on.

  Hi, Megan here. Well… I'm not actually here, otherwise I'd be answering the phone. My voice is here; where are you? Anyway, please leave a message after the tone and I'll reply.

  Amy left a message.

  "What now?" Danielle asked.

  Amy didn't answer but pressed the door handle and shoved.

  It opened with a creak.

  "Needs oil," she said grinning at Danielle. "Come on, let's get inside."

  The two women hurried out of the late afternoon heat into the musty coolness of a dingy hallway. A curtain twitched, behind which a dark shadow with piercing eyes watched their every move.

  Chapter 26

  It took several moments for their eyes to adjust to the darkness of the hallway.