Death on Covert Circle

by Patricia McLinn

  “Yes, Gundy,” Judy Vance said, “tell us why you were at the Roger.”

  His smile returned, a little rusty. “Checking out the competition, of course. We’ve turned the corner here at Shep’s, but we can’t afford to let up now.”

  Clara’s eyes went wide. “Were you trying to find out about upcoming specials the Roger was going to have?”

  He laughed — better than the smile. “Like they’d tell me ahead of time, Clara. In fact, they seem to be following our specials. Now, let’s get a roast for Sheila and one for you and Ned to have later.”

  Judy watched the retreating pair. Slowly, her gaze shifted from them to me.

  “Salmon salads?” she asked coolly.

  “Yes, please. Two.”

  My relief at the normality of her question evaporated with the next one.

  “Why are you asking my husband about a murder?”

  Where was that advantage Clara said we had of people not thinking we were interrogating them or about to haul them off to jail? I didn’t have any of that advantage with this woman.

  “We aren’t. Only about his being at the Roger yesterday. Lots of people were.”

  She didn’t buy that. “You’re asking a lot of questions.”

  Had she known her husband had been in the Roger yesterday before Clara’s question?

  I met and held her gaze. “It’s hard not to when you were there when a man was murdered.”

  “It’s not a reason to suspect my husband.”

  “I, uh, I don’t suspect anyone specifically.” Not to the extent of pointing a finger and shouting, “J’accuse.”

  She broke the look, sliding the cartons into bags with her usual care, then handing them over, still not smiling.

  “Here. As usual, the salmon, salad, and dressing are separate to avoid sogginess. Mix them immediately before eating. The ingredients are listed on the card, also as usual. All the ingredients.”

  * * * *

  One of the services Shep’s offered was to hold onto purchases, especially the prepared meals, in a cold case. The customer could come back in or have a service deliver it to them. It facilitated customers’ impulse buys, when they otherwise would have skipped the purchase because they weren’t going home next.

  That’s what I opted for.

  “We have time before yoga to eat our salads,” Clara said. “We could stop by your house. In fact, we could go to yours and mine, drop everything off.”

  “Leave yours here, too. C’mon, let’s go. We’ll eat backward tonight — dessert at the café first, then the salads.”

  She picked up the message that I had somewhere else I wanted to get to before yoga. She was tactful enough not to ask until we were in the car. “Where are we going?”

  “Let’s go back and see if Petey’s still at the Roger.”

  “He won’t be, not at this time. But I don’t mind checking if you tell me why.”

  “Did you notice when you were asking him about the guy in jeans that he didn’t start to shake his head until you indicated his height? And then the head shakes became more vehement, almost relieved when you mentioned jeans.”

  She frowned. Then her eyebrows popped up. “Oh. Because Gundy was wearing khakis? You think he thought I was describing Gundy?”

  “It’s a possibility. He never mentioned Vance being at the store. More of his loyalty?”

  “Highly possible. He was pretty reluctant to talk about anybody except Foster and Isaac.”

  “True. Let’s see if we can pin him down a bit more.”

  “Sure. What do you think about what happened in there with the Vances? She was very cool about her husband being at the Roger,” Clara said. “Which could be a sign she’s certain he’s innocent.”

  “Or she doesn’t care whether he’s innocent or not. And that could mean a couple things, too. She knows he killed Birchall and she is all for that. Or she doesn’t care.”

  “I’ve never heard anything about there being trouble in their marriage. Of course, you don’t always hear ahead of time. There are always breakups that surprise you, just like there are people who stick together that surprise you.”

  “All true. The best thing we can probably do now is keep our ears open. We need more information.”

  * * * *

  “I don’t believe it,” Clara said after I pulled up next to Petey in the Roger parking lot. As soon as we were out, she said to him, “What are you still doing here at this hour?”

  “Double shift. Mother of one of the guys doesn’t want her baby where there’d been a murder.”

  “Petey, was there anyone else you saw coming or going yesterday, say from the time that group of customers came out, telling you about the dispute between other customers and Rod Birchall, to when the deputies arrived.”

  He rubbed his stubbled chin. “Well, now, not that I recall.”

  Clara gave me a tiny head shake. I interpreted it as meaning she thought he was holding back. I also took it to mean I was free to try my ignorant-of-Kentucky-men methods.

  “Petey, we know Gundy Vance was in the store here yesterday when—”

  “During that period,” Clara spoke over me.

  Another instance of her knowing Kentucky men? I let her ending stand instead of my harsher the murder was committed. “We both saw him ourselves.”

  “Ah. Well, now.” He lifted, then lowered his shoulders.

  “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

  “Didn’t want to get anybody in trouble. Nonsense to think he could have done anything. Was hardly in there more than five minutes.”

  Which we knew from our experiments was more than enough time to accomplish the deed. Though spotting Birchall and recognizing the opportunity could expand the time needed.

  “When did Gundy Vance come out?”

  “Let me think. Not long before the deputies came. Got into two cars and seems to me they were waiting to get on the highway when the lights and sirens started coming over the hill.”

  He tipped his head in that direction, but neither Clara nor I looked.

  “They?” we said in unison.

  He looked down. “Wasn’t anything in it. I don’t want to get anybody in trouble.”

  “About what?”

  “His coming out with them, that woman and little girl. He wasn’t there when they went in earlier, before that Birchall arrived,” he said quickly, as if declaring their innocence.

  “You said you didn’t see the woman and her daughter leave,” Clara accused.

  He shook his head. “Said I didn’t always see everyone coming or going. A mother like her. Fair dotes on that girl. She wouldn’t do anything bad. And she was that upset when she came out. But doing her best to calm that baby girl, with tears streaming from eyes that should only be smilin’ blue.”

  “But you did see them leave? And with Gundy, because you know him, right?”

  “I know him right enough. Donates regular to the food bank and brings meals for those who need it. My sister included when she was off work before I came to live with her. And the food he donates is good, not like the garbage from this place. He’s a fine man. Fine.”

  “You saw him leave with the woman and Lorelei?” I asked succinctly and directly.

  “Lorelei? Is that the name of the dear little girl?”

  “It is. Did you see Gundy leave the store with her and her mother?”

  “What if I did? He wouldn’t kill anybody, not over business. Even his family’s market. I don’t want—”

  “We know. You don’t want to get them in trouble,” Clara soothed.

  “Do you know who they were? The woman and little girl?”

  “First time I’ve seen them here. Cute little girl.”

  I was direct. “Would you recognize Gundy Vance’s wife?”

  “No.” His firmness conveyed he did not want to get involved in anything to do with that — which hinted that not only would he recognize Judy Vance, but she wasn’t the woman Gundy accompanied out of the store.<
br />
  The woman with a little girl. Karen Zalesk and Lorelei.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Unlike the dogs’ feelings about two trips to the dog park in one day, I was not entranced by a second yoga class. Especially not flow. Especially not when we’d been burned a while back by what wasn’t even supposed to be a flow class, but inflicted nearly double digit sun salutations on us.

  We knew this instructor but hadn’t taken classes from her.

  Didn’t matter. Our reason for attending was Jacqueline taking the class. We exchanged hellos with her, but didn’t push now. That would come later.

  Also in the class, was a surprise — eighty-something-year-old Fern. At least I’d keep up with her.

  * * * *

  I didn’t.

  I am not talking anymore about that flow class.

  Except to say the instructor twice asked if I was okay. Yes, I was breathing heavily, but it might have been the result of flashbacks to another class with more sun salutations than you could shake a stick at, which was followed shortly by murder.

  I don’t understand the fixation on sun salutations. I held my own with the warriors of various numbers, reverses, triangle, cobra, but those sun salutations— No, I wasn’t talking about it.

  Fern, of course, was chipper.

  And chatty.

  Although we kept a close eye on Jacqueline, talking with the instructor, Eloise, we didn’t shoo off Fern.

  Perhaps Clara, too, was remembering Gundy Vance’s recommendation we talk to the older woman.

  “You need to come to this class more often,” Fern started.

  “You’re right,” Clara said.

  I growled — at both of them.

  Fern chuckled. “Right there’s the proof. What have you two lady detectives been up to today?”

  We exchanged a look. By the agreement in that look, I said, “We went into Cincinnati early to talk to Foster Utton — the man who came here with Rod Birchall yesterday. Tried to find the limo driver, too, but he’s been fired.”

  “What did this Foster person tell you?”

  “Not a lot. He seems quite out of his depth as the interim CEO.”

  “When you’ve been dreaming after something for a long time, reality can bite you in the butt. I’ll tell you something interesting in turn. I heard somebody might be staying out at the old Family Place near the river.”

  For once Clara appeared as lost as I was about something to do with North Bend County.

  “That’s the Gundy old Family Place, not the Vances’. Vances’ve had Shep’s Market forever, right back to Shep himself. The old Family Place belonged to the Gundys, only these days, the ones left are part Vance, too. Call it their fishing shack now.”

  “And there’s somebody staying there?” Clara asked.

  She sliced a look toward me, asking if I saw how Petey’s report of Gundy leaving with a woman and little girl might tie in with somebody staying at Gundy Vance’s “old Family Place,” and our lack of success finding Karen Zalesk and her daughter.

  I did.

  “That’s what I hear,” Fern confirmed.

  “A female somebody?”

  She tipped her head, less like a coquette than a mischievous squirrel. “Now, why do you ask?”

  “There were women customers at the Roger yesterday we’d like to talk to. As witnesses.”

  She nodded before I finished. “Phyllis Ezzard and Aggie Hickmott. Know about them. They surely aren’t staying out at the Gundys’ old Family Place.”

  “There was another customer.” I chose my words carefully. “We’d like to talk to her. Get her impressions and recollections.”

  Her eyes glittering more strongly with mischief, she plowed through my careful words. “You think Gundy Vance has a woman on the side?”

  “Now, Fern, don’t go starting rumors.”

  “It’s not a rumor if it’s true.”

  “We have no reason to believe it is true, though.”

  “You might not, but I might.”

  “What do you know, Fern?”

  “Oh. Know. That’s a strong word. Too strong for my taste. I might have an idea or two.” The glitter in her eyes intensified. “Want to know how to get to the Gundy old Family Place on the river?”

  We did.

  * * * *

  Perfect timing.

  Fern had finished giving us the address and a set of directions resembling the path squirrels take through my back yard, including “third tree on the left,” when Jacqueline said good-bye to Eloise and started toward the door.

  We intercepted her. It almost looked natural.

  The vestibule had cleared out, so we had only Fern and Eloise as witnesses when we invited her to a glass of wine and dessert at the café.

  She hesitated, then accepted.

  More good fortune met us at the café when we spotted a table for four in the corner with none of the seats near it occupied.

  After we ordered, Jacqueline said, “I’m sure you’ve got questions. I hadn’t realized you two had been involved in solving a couple murders until people started telling me about it last night and today. But I really shouldn’t say anything.”

  Before Clara or I could respond, Jacqueline added, “Oh. Except thank you. You kept your heads and calmed down the others. I appreciate that. You both were kind to stay yesterday and to talk to the sheriff’s department.”

  If only the sheriff’s department felt the same way.

  “Amid all the chaos, you were troupers. Thank you.”

  Clara put one hand over hers on the table. “Of course we wouldn’t desert you after what happened. Even before the murder—”

  Jacqueline winced at the word.

  “—it was pretty appalling the way Rod Birchall acted, the way he treated people. Maybe it wasn’t as surprising for you if you knew what was coming, if you’d encountered him before, or—”

  “No, I’d never met him before. And we had no warning. I was so shocked, I … I don’t know that I handled it well. I was uncomfortable with him from the start and then he irritated me.”

  She produced a smile, but whatever relaxation Jacqueline had achieved from the yoga class ebbed away, leaving her face rigid. She slid her hand from under Clara’s.

  Our wines and desserts arrived, fresh strawberries for Jacqueline, chocolate and caramel layers the café called, with great ingenuity, chocolate and caramel layer dessert for Clara and me.

  “Though now none of that hardly matters, does it? Considering,” Jacqueline said in a low voice as the waiter left us.

  “You mean you think the Jolly Roger CEO dying on your watch, so to speak, might be bad for your career?” I asked.

  Jacqueline’s mouth twisted in acknowledgment. “It sure won’t help.”

  Clara looked indignant. “They can’t blame you for that. Not unless—” She stopped herself from tactlessly raising the possibility of Jacqueline being the murderer. “If that hurts your career, you have to fight it. That’s not fair.”

  “I don’t think it would do any good to fight it.”

  “Have you been with the Jolly Roger chain long?” I asked.

  “Four years. I started with a store in Indiana, working my way up, all at the one store until four months ago when I was promoted to assistant manager and transferred here. It’s been … different. My manager at the other store was such a dynamo, taught me so much. Truly my mentor. It’s been an adjustment coming here and working under a, um, new style.”

  “And new customers?”

  Her first genuine smile appeared. Maybe it was the strawberries. The chocolate and caramel layers dessert made me want to smile, too. And say Mmmm. I resisted that temptation, considering our underlying topic.

  “The customers have been a true bright spot. Not that the employees aren’t hard-working — I’m not saying that. But some are … wary. And, I guess you could say, worn down. But the customers say hello and they’re friendly. Even when there’s a complaint, people are generally polite and
rather laidback. I think we have Petey to thank.”

  “Absolutely, you have Petey to thank. He makes everyone feel welcomed and puts them in a good mood.” Clara smiled back at her.

  “Too bad Petey’s charms didn’t work on Rod Birchall.” I dragged the topic back to yesterday’s events. “He seemed incredibly brusque. Had something happened that made him ill-tempered?”

  “You mean like being born?” Clara asked.

  For a moment, I thought her comment had sent the honesty I’d seen trembling on Jacqueline’s lips back into hiding. But Clara, whether from knowledge or instinct, had hit the right note.

  “He was like that from the second he walked in,” Jacqueline said. “In fact, even before he came in, his driver caused a ruckus with Petey — Petey. But from what I’ve heard, that’s how he always was.”

  I leaned forward.

  “Jacqueline, we know that since Birchall was brought in there’s a lot of unhappiness among Jolly Roger employees. And never more so than with all those firings last week.” This had been widely reported, so I wasn’t breaking new ground. “As well as customers, as we heard yesterday.”

  That last part could have lightened her mood. It didn’t.

  But she did latch onto the topic of customers, skipping the employees’ unhappiness.

  “They aren’t happy. Can’t blame them. But our hands are tied on almost of all of it. We have to tell them to call the customer service line with complaints — but the information never goes up the chain.” She grimaced. “Even if it did, would anything change? What does happen is the information’s sent back to the individual store and we’re told to deal with making the customer happy. We’re judged on whether we do or not, even when the complaint is about something the store has no control over.”

  “Was that what had happened to the customers who confronted Birchall?”

  “I couldn’t say—”

  “The woman with the little girl…”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know her.”

  “Did you see her again after the photo-taking fiasco?”

  “No.” Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, apparently the first she’d heard of the woman being around.