Hiss H for Homicide

by Toni LoTempio

  A muscle in his lower jaw worked. “And Enerelli got away with it?”

  I shook my head. “No, he didn’t. Thank God the FBI showed up in the nick of time. They’ve got the flash drive now.”

  He was silent for a long moment, digesting this, and then he said, “So Nico Enerelli had Marlene murdered to get the manuscript, and then his henchman murdered Anabel why? Because she’d seen him? And made it look like she’d murdered Marlene and then committed suicide so the case would be closed?”

  “You’re partially right. The killer murdered Marlene to get the manuscript, which of course he didn’t find because she’d hidden it in the puzzle box and taken the box to storage. He wore a blond wig to disguise himself, but then he found out that someone who knew him had seen him. So he killed her and then made it look like a suicide, so the police would be satisfied and not look for anyone else.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the card from Arlene’s Beauty Supply. “You really shouldn’t have rented the wig under the name you’re using now.”

  I had to hand it to Jenks, he was one cool cucumber. He seemed unfazed by my accusation. Nothing changed: expression, demeanor, or voice. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

  “Sure, you do. Now, I can tell you that the police and the FBI don’t know what I know. You weren’t named in the manuscript, and right now I have no intention of going to them.”

  One eyebrow lifted. Still, he remained silent.

  I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear in an unconcerned gesture. “You know, it’s tough in this economy to make a go of a business. Hot Bread’s been slowly coming back into the black, and I figure one good shot in the arm is all I need to turn a substantial profit this year. That’s where you come in.”

  His mouth twisted into a leering expression. “Pardon?”

  “I figure in exchange for my silence on your parentage, you can make a capital donation to my store. One hundred fifty thousand,” I said in a voice that didn’t waver at all, despite the butterflies fluttering about in my stomach. “I figure that’s a darn good price, bargain actually, to let you get away with murder.”

  He shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he mumbled.

  “Not so much.” I opened my tote and took out the notes I’d retrieved from Marlene’s typewriter. “Marlene went through a lot of trouble to find out your real identity. How did you feel when she tracked you down, told you that you were going to be the star chapter in her tell-all book?”

  He smiled at me then, a smile similar to the one a lion gives a gazelle before it pounces. “She didn’t even have the guts to tell me herself, at first. Anabel did.”

  “Anabel knew what was in the book, then.”

  He nodded. “She did. Marlene needed Anabel’s help to make the connection with the publishing house. Once that was established, she told Anabel to take a hike. Anabel, of course, knew about the advance and demanded Marlene pay her back what she owed, and Marlene, like the snake she was, refused. So then Anabel decided to enlist my help. She got in touch with me, told me what Marlene had planned. Then I decided it was time I made some plans of my own.” He glanced around the room, then returned his gaze to me. “How did you come to the conclusion I had to be the murderer?”

  “Several things, actually. The card from Arlene’s Beauty Supply, with the rental number on the back. Then there were Marlene’s notes, of course, and the manuscript alluding to an illegitimate son. I called the Cruz Sun and found out that you’re not a feature reporter, that you work in the morgue, although probably not for much longer. What really cinched it was when I remembered something you said the day after the murder.”

  His gaze narrowed. “What was that?”

  “You were talking about stopping by the house for your interview. You said Samms wouldn’t let you in, but he gave you a statement. Police never give out all the information to the public. That was one of the first things I learned when I started on the true crime beat in Chicago. I found out later that Samms didn’t tell anyone how Marlene died, just that they’d found her dead. He was trying to prevent an influx of media sensation that he felt might impede his investigation. Yet, you told me that Marlene was half of the goose that laid the golden egg, and you didn’t shoot it in cold blood without a good reason. There was only one way you could have known she was shot.”

  His jaw tightened. “It’s always something simple that trips one up, isn’t it. I wasn’t lying about the good reason part, though. I had the best in the world. I was kept from my birthright.”

  I stared at him. “You would actually want to be acknowledged as the son of a gangster?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? The Enerellis have money, position and power. I’ve had to struggle for most of my life. I went to her, told her I knew what she planned to do, and I said it didn’t bother me in the least. My father would be forced to publicly acknowledge me at last. Then she said she had no intention of hurting him in that way, she wasn’t going to reveal my identity. She said that’s why she halted her investigation, because of the position it would put him in. It would destroy his family. Can you imagine her saying that to me?” He balled his hand into a fist, pounded it against his chest. “What a joke. His family. I was—I am—his family!”

  He started to pace back and forth. “She said he was coming the next day, and she was going to give him the papers she’d unearthed, among them my birth certificate. I was enraged, but I didn’t let on. I went out, rented that wig, and came back that night.” His lips twitched, as if he were recalling something pleasant. “I cut the lights. Anabel had told me Marlene hated the dark. She had a flashlight, and when I came up to her, at first she thought I was Desiree. By the time she realized her mistake, it was too late.” He cocked his hand, moved his thumb as if pulling a trigger.

  “You killed her.”

  “Oh, of course I killed her,” he said impatiently. “And then Anabel called me, and said she’d seen someone going into the house, but they didn’t walk like Desiree. I told her Desiree was guilty as sin, but she didn’t believe me, and then she found out I rented the wig, so I decided why not? Kill her too, and make it look as if she couldn’t hack the guilt over Marlene. Bingo! Everyone’s happy.”

  “And to think I actually asked for your help,” I murmured.

  “Yes, that was convenient. Enabled me to sneak in and plant the note and binoculars. I really wasn’t late getting there.” He smiled smugly. “And you want money to keep quiet? Do you really think I have money to pay you to keep quiet?”

  “I’m sure you can get it.”

  “Who are you kidding? You’re not someone who’d resort to blackmail. You’re the person who fights on the side of truth and justice. This is a setup, isn’t it? Where’s your FBI boyfriend? Outside?”

  I swallowed over the giant lump in my throat that threatened to choke me. “No. I’m alone.”

  “Pity.” He flexed his hands in front of him. “Guess this’ll be a crime scene again, when they find your cold, dead body lying here. Me, I’ll be long gone. I quit that dead-end job before I came here.”

  He took a step toward me. I took two steps sideways and back. One eyebrow quirked, and he took another step toward me. I veered to the right, just out of his reach.

  “The FBI has Enerelli in custody, and Bartholomew too. I know they’re not sterling citizens, but is it fair for them to suffer for your crimes?”

  “That’s an odd sort of justice, wouldn’t you say? They couldn’t be pegged for all the crimes they did commit, so now they’ll suffer for ones they didn’t. While I’ll be off, living my life. I haven’t much money, but it’s enough to get myself a new identity, start my life completely over, knowing I’ve gotten my revenge on my no-good birth father at last.”

  He lunged for me again, and this time I wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed me and twisted my right arm cruelly behind my back. I let out a yelp and then brought the heel of my shoe down hard on his instep. He yowled and let go of my arm, and I made a dash for the door. Just as my fingers touc
hed the knob, he dragged me back against his body, his arm around my neck this time. He pressed in, cutting off my air supply. I struggled to catch a breath, and jabbed my elbow back and into his ribs. It connected, but not hard enough to get him to release the chokehold he had on my neck. Little pinpricks of light swirled around my vision, but I knew I had to act fast or I was a dead woman. I was just readying the heel of my hand to try and connect with his nose when I heard him gasp. He released me and took two steps backward, staring at the window. I rubbed my bruised neck and followed his gaze.

  A cat stood silhouetted in the window, its large gold eyes fixed right on Jenks. It’s back arched, and the mouth opened in a hiss, revealing razor-sharp fangs. The animal reared up, pawed the window with its sharp claws, making a screeching sound against the glass.

  “Cats! I hate ’em. I always knew they were bad luck,” Jenks whimpered.

  He turned on his heel and ran out of the room.

  I looked back at the window. The cat was gone.

  A second later I heard a shout: “Stop. Police. Stop or we’ll fire.”

  Then I heard a gunshot.

  I ran to the door and opened it just in time to see Samms snapping handcuffs on Jenks’s wrists. The guy’s red hair was fluffed out all around his head, like a fiery halo, and he was trembling. “Damn jinx,” he muttered. Daniel stood just behind them, replacing his gun in his holster. I looked at him questioningly.

  “Warning shot,” he said, patting his side. “He went right down on his knees.”

  I glanced over on the lawn. Nick sat there, calmly licking one paw, looking about as threatening as a neutered tiger.

  Samms pulled Jenks to his feet and then glanced at me. “I have to say, I had my doubts but your plan worked.”

  “I knew if all else failed, the sight of Nick might get to him,” I said. “I remembered how nervous he got that day in Hot Bread, when he first saw Nick, and then again when I found Anabel’s body. Plus, he said he thought black cats were bad luck.” I felt for the tiny transmitter taped to the underside of my sweater, pulled it off and pressed it into Daniel’s hand. I fisted both hands on my hips and cocked my head at the two men.

  “Now, as far as you two are concerned, I have only one complaint. Why did you wait so long?”

  Twenty-six

  It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and Hot Bread was closed for the rest of the weekend. I’d decided that my near-death experience with both Enerelli and Jenks deserved some “me” time, aka well-deserved R&R. I’d gotten my dad’s old gas grill out of the basement and fired it up, and now the fragrant aroma of grilling hamburgers, hot dogs, and steaks filled the air. Ollie had appointed himself assistant chef and stood over the grill, spatula in hand, while Chantal and I brought out pitchers of sangria, lemonade and iced tea and bowls of chips and salsa to munch on. Peter and Desiree were seated at the table, and Desiree looked the happiest I’d seen her. She looked up with a wide smile as I poured her a glass of lemonade.

  “So it’s really over? And Enerelli had nothing to do with it?”

  “The only thing Enerelli’s guilty of is breaking into my house and threatening me,” I said. “And I’ve decided not to press charges.” Heck, it was never good practice to piss a crime boss off, not unless you were one hundred percent positive he was going away to the Big House for many, many years.

  “Gladstone was only really guilty of breaking into the Porter house and ransacking it, and taking those appointment pages. Even though Marlene had erased Enerelli’s initials he didn’t want to leave anything there that could possibly lead back to him. And, of course, Gladstone searched for the notes and birth certificate Marlene claimed to have on Jenks,” Peter added.

  “Speaking of the birth certificate,” Ollie remarked as he flipped a burger over, “does anyone know what happened to it? It wasn’t in those papers you found, was it, Nora?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I’m thinking maybe Marlene destroyed it. It was, after all, the only real shred of proof that Enerelli and Lila had a son, and the only way Jenks could ever have laid claim to his birthright. Marlene knew admitting he’d had an illegitimate son would destroy Enerelli, so it might have been the one decent thing she ever did.”

  “And this Paul Jenkins?” Desiree asked stiffly. “What happens to him now?”

  “Well, if he gets a judge who shows some mercy and doesn’t condemn him to death row, he’ll be serving a nice long stretch in San Quentin for the double murders of Marlene and Anabel.”

  We all turned as Daniel came into my yard, followed by Samms. Daniel had a bakery box in his hand, and Samms a large paper bag from Creed’s Deli. Chantal and I hurried over to relieve them of their burden.

  I peeped inside the sack Samms handed me then shot him a quizzical look. “Macaroni and potato salad?”

  He grinned. “One can never have enough.”

  Chantal, meantime, had peeped inside the box Daniel had brought. “Ooh, strawberry shortcake. How did you know it’s Nora’s favorite?”

  “I didn’t,” Daniel said with a grin. “It just happens to be mine, too.” He gave a quick glance around the yard. “Where’s the star of the hour?”

  “You mean Nick?” I gestured with my thumb. Nick was right at Ollie’s side, looking longingly at the burgers and steaks he was heaping on my good platter. Ollie broke off a small piece of hamburger and tossed it to Nick, who grabbed it between his paws and began to eat greedily.

  “Jenks had such an obvious distaste for cats,” I remarked. “I figured at the very least Nick’s appearance would rattle him. As it was, he popped up at just the right time.”

  Nick glanced up at me. The look in his eyes plainly said, as usual.

  “Once again, he saves the day,” Ollie sang out. “Let’s eat.”

  He brought the huge platter of meat over to the table, followed by Chantal with another platter of bread and rolls. Then everyone started to dig in. Once sandwiches were made and glasses refilled, Desiree asked, “What will happen to Marlene’s manuscript? I’m sure Peachtree Press is champing at the bit, waiting to publish it. Marlene might have shielded Enerelli, but she surely didn’t do the same with me, or Scarlett, or Sable St. John.”

  “We could get a court injunction,” suggested Peter. “It would delay things, and maybe we could reason with the publisher.”

  “Those people only reason with dollar signs,” Desiree said. She grimaced and put down her hamburger. “Suddenly I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “Well, don’t,” Daniel said. “The FBI has appropriated that flash drive. It might not touch on Enerelli’s illegitimate son, but there’s plenty in there to make things very uncomfortable for him and his crime family for years to come.”

  Desiree’s eyes widened. “Can you do that?”

  “Marlene knew her manuscript contained issues the FBI would consider sensitive, however, she never approached the bureau with her intent to publish. As such, the FBI has the authority to censor material if it might pose an issue for “public safety.” It will have to be gone over with a fine-tooth comb.” Daniel closed one eye in a broad wink. “Trust me, that manuscript will be tied up for review indefinitely.”

  Desiree frowned. “But can’t the publisher appropriate the parts that have nothing to do with FBI business?”

  “Well, there’s the rub. It seems as if all of your secrets, in one form or another, touch on areas sensitive to the FBI.” Daniel looked Desiree right in the eye. “I’m not at liberty to say any more, but I think you get the idea.”

  She was quiet for a few minutes, then put her hand over her heart. “I do. Oh, thank God!” Then she grabbed her hamburger and took a huge bite.

  “Looks like all the loose ends are tied up,” I remarked, squirting ketchup on my burger. “The manuscript will die a slow death in the hands of the FBI, Enerelli and his cronies will get what’s coming to them, Jenks has a nice long stretch in the slammer to look forward to, so what’s left?”

  “I can think of something,” sang out Chant
al. “A certain envelope you shoved in your drawer from a certain very grateful head of our museum’s board of directors.”

  I gave my head an emphatic shake. “I am not opening Violet’s envelope until she returns. She specifically asked me to wait, and I have no intention of violating her trust.”

  “You may have to trust a bit longer.” Daniel cleared his throat. “I heard that she and Alexa have extended their stay in London another two weeks.”

  “Oh, no. Who told you that?” I demanded.

  “Lance. Alexa made an overseas call to him last night. Seems Violet is in the midst of chatting up the curator of a big museum in Essex for a new display.”

  “And she was supposed to be on a vacation. Oh, well.” I shrugged and ducked my head, hoping no one noted my disappointed expression. “It doesn’t matter. I’m still waiting,” I said, but my tone didn’t carry as much conviction as before.

  Daniel and Samms exchanged a glance. “As stubborn as a mule,” Samms observed.

  “It’s a Charles family trait,” I responded with a curl of my lip.

  “Tell me about it,” Peter chuckled. “Speaking of Charles women, Lacey graduates soon. Has she told you what her plans are?”

  “No, but I expect I’ll find out soon enough.”

  “She’s doing a great job with the sketches for St. Leo,” Samms said. “You know, they might be persuaded to hire her full-time.”

  I raised a brow. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Last I heard, it was in their budget. If you want, I can put in a good word for her.”

  I smiled. “That would be great if you could. Thanks, Samms.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He shifted his weight to his other foot. “So, Red, are you planning to look into some less dangerous hobbies than crime solving?”

  “Why should I, when I’m so good at it?” I got up, ducking my head to hide my grin, and walked over to the grill to put some more hamburgers on. As I laid the patties on the grill, Daniel came up to me.