With a Kiss I Die

by J. A. Hennrikus

  “Anything you need, Jerry. Anything. Just let me know.”

  “Thank you. That means the world to me.” He stepped back and wiped his eyes.

  We waited until we were in the car before we spoke. There was something about the building that made you feel as if you were being watched all the time. Because you probably were. Once we were on Storrow Drive and she could shift into gear, Emma pushed a button on her steering wheel.

  “Call Eric’s cell,” she instructed. I listened while the phone connected.

  “Eric? You can’t come to Mimi’s funeral this afternoon after all. I told Jerry you were out of town until late tomorrow afternoon. Call me when you get this.” She disconnected the call.

  “So, he could have had Jerry sign papers?”

  “And conveniently left Gus holding the bag. Listen, Sully, Jerry was lying. Gus and I specifically talked about the Newbury building contract specifics, and I signed off on them. There’s no possible malfeasance. Unless someone changed the contracts.”

  “To make it look like Gus was guilty. Which he couldn’t fight because he isn’t around right now. Convenient, isn’t it?” I said.

  “Right. So I bought a few hours for us to figure out what the hell is going on,” Emma said. “I don’t think Jerry killed Mimi. But I wouldn’t put it past him to cover it up if it was in his best interest.”

  “Even the murder of his wife? I don’t know them well, but they seemed devoted.”

  “They were. I have no doubt that Jerry will find justice for Mimi, even if he has to pay for it.”

  “Great. Vigilante justice. More common than I like to think about,” I said.

  “Really? You must have some interesting stories, Sully.”

  “Here’s one. Harry said that there’s a rumor going around the theater that Babs and Jerry were having an affair. And that Babs killed Mimi.”

  “An affair with Babs? Really? Huh.”

  “Huh? You don’t seem surprised.”

  “You know, maybe it’s because of what I went through with Terry, but I’m more sympathetic to unconventional unions than I used to be. I do think Jerry and Mimi were devoted, but they’d been married a long time. But still, Jerry and Babs? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

  “That could explain the scene the other night,” I said, remembering drinks thrown in faces.

  “It sure could. Maybe Jerry is going to meet Babs somewhere? Nah, I don’t believe it. I’ve heard that Babs was going through changes, but I don’t think she left Hal for Jerry.”

  “But she did leave Hal?”

  “Still trying to pin that down, but the latest I’ve heard is that they’ve been separated for a while. She may have filed for divorce.”

  “Emma, you are a font of information.”

  “Eric’s bored in Trevorton. He fancies himself a private investigator. He’s been asking around, looking at public records.”

  “I’ll talk to him about privacy laws later. So, Babs filed? Not Hal?”

  “No, not Hal. He couldn’t.”

  “Couldn’t? Come on, spill. There’s a cone of silence in this car. Tell me what you know.”

  “I’ve known Hal for years. He has a summer house the next town over, did you know that?”

  “I do. He’s a donor to the Cliffside.” Sometimes I felt as though I’d been close to Emma for years, but other times I was reminded that we still had to figure out how our adult lives intersected.

  “So do you know him well?” she asked.

  “I know him like I know a lot of our donors. He comes to events, always writes at least two checks a year. He’s advised on a couple of projects. We tried to get him on the board last summer, but he declined.”

  “That was right after Martin disappeared.”

  “Right. Hal talked about needing a change of scenery. Come to think of it, Babs wasn’t with him, but I just assumed she was back in the city working,” I said. “He was around a lot last summer. He’s a nice guy who picks up the bar bill at the Beef & Ale. But he’d always leave alone.”

  “You know, one of the things I always liked about Hal was that our business life and our friendship didn’t overlap. But lately he’s been off his game a bit—pushing more. I’ve been giving him space, but it’s getting uncomfortable. Part of what made him so successful was that he knew when to walk away and come back another day. But not so much lately.”

  “Yeah, he’s been pushing me a little too, wanting to do rebranding on the Cliffside,” I said. “I’m surprised he hasn’t brought it up these past few days, but we’re small fry compared to the other things going on. Anyway, bad marriages can screw you up. We both know that.”

  “We do indeed,” Emma said.

  “Do you know Babs well?” I asked.

  “Not as well as I do Hal, but pretty well. She reminds me of myself, actually. Born Yankee. Pretty tightly wound. Married to a charismatic man.”

  “And successful on her own. We were on the same panel at the last StageSource conference and ended up going out to dinner. She is really, really good at what she does, and she’s kept the Bay Rep running despite the challenges with changing artistic directors the past couple of years. I’m really surprised she left the company in the lurch this week.”

  “Who’s running things?” Emma said.

  “Holly Samuel.”

  “Martin’s daughter? I forgot she was back working for Babs.”

  “Hal came in while I was in the office yesterday. When he told Holly about Mimi, she didn’t seem too upset. She made some accusations about her father’s disappearance. Can you remember anything else about what happened with Martin? There wasn’t much real information in the articles I found online.”

  “Not anything more than I told you already—” Emma began.

  “Please, Emma, you travel in those circles. Guaranteed you know more than I do.”

  “Okay, let me think it through again. It was last March that Hal, Babs, Martin, the Cunninghams, and a few other people chartered that boat in the Caribbean. They went to bed one night, and when they woke up Martin was gone. So were the lifeboat and his overnight bag.”

  “Was anyone questioned?”

  “I’d imagine they all were, but no one was arrested. No one talked about it. The assumption was that Martin had taken a powder for a while, but it’s been almost a year.”

  That’s the problem with Yankee stock, especially among the upper crust. Minding your own business is ingrained into their DNA. Not that they don’t gossip, but it’s hard to make them break ranks and tell you what they know. Of course Emma was making an exception for me, but I was family. This all makes it really, really hard for investigators. Rich people justice. I ran into it last fall when Peter Whitehall was killed. They deal with their own.

  Was that what had happened to Mimi Cunningham?

  Emma and I decided to go back to the townhouse before the memorial service. She wanted to get some work done, and I wanted to do some more research. I walked into my apartment, or what I had started to consider my apartment, and was surprised to see Eric sitting at the kitchen table working on his computer. I gave him a big hug.

  “When did you get here?” I asked.

  “When Emma first called, I jumped in the car and headed down. I was here before I got your message. I planned to visit Harry soon anyway. I figured I would hide out and you could catch me up.”

  I texted Emma, who came downstairs and brought her laptop. The two of us told Eric what had been happening over the past few days, concluding with our visit to Jerry Cunningham.

  “So let me get this straight. I’m not going to the funeral this afternoon because we don’t want to sign the paperwork with Jerry and free up the assets that our company needs?”

  “I know, I know,” Emma said. “But I want to figure out what Gus was worried about before we sign anything. I’ve l
ooked over the numbers, the paperwork, everything a million times. It’s all in order. We sign the papers, our money is freed from escrow and we walk away. This is what I want. But considering that Hal asked me to go forward with the business, and then less than an hour later Jerry basically told me he’s going to cut and run—I don’t know. Something is going on. What do you think, Sully?”

  “I don’t know the business ins and outs, but I’ve been listening to the conversations. And everyone is hiding something. The fact that we have a dead body, and Gus is missing, makes that statement pretty obvious.”

  “By the way, ladies, I like what you’ve done with the cabinets,” Eric said.

  “I hear you’ve been fancying yourself a private investigator lately,” I said. “Surely you know the technique.”

  “Someone’s been spilling secrets, I see. I’m just trying to catch myself up,” Eric said. He glared at Emma, who refused to look up from her computer. “I’m ashamed at how little I knew about how the family business ran. Gus keeps uncovering things, and I’m sick of being surprised. So I’m preparing myself for any other skeletons in the closet by doing some background checks. I hire professionals when it gets too tough.”

  “You couldn’t have mentioned this to me the other day?” I said.

  “I was trying to figure some things out on my own. I’m getting reports together, and I’ll share them when I’m able, okay? I doubt they have anything to do with what happened,” Eric said. “Tell me about the cards on the cabinets.”

  “We’ll tell you about the cards but you have to promise to fill in any information we haven’t put up there already. Promise?” I said.

  “I promise,” Eric said.

  “We’re trying to find Gus. He’s missing,” Emma said.

  “Gus is really missing? Or is this the way you’re investigating Mimi’s murder while pretending to look for Gus? I mean, how can he just disappear?”

  “Great question,” Emma said. “He’s been gone almost a day. Have you heard from him?” Eric shook his head.

  “Maybe we can try and see Kate before the funeral,” I said.

  “Kate? What does she have to do with anything?” Eric asked.

  “Kate told me that Gus was dissolving any business remotely tied to the Century Project and the Cunningham Corporation. He apparently sent out official notices to folks on Tuesday.”

  “Gus told me he was planning to do that,” Eric said. “At first I thought it was extreme, but he convinced me it made sense. He talked me through the business implications, the paperwork he needed to follow up on, legalities of dropping clients. Most of the clients were Kate’s, honestly.”

  “When did you last speak with Gus?” Emma asked.

  “Wednesday morning,” Eric said.

  “Do you know what time?” I asked. Eric picked up his phone and swiped through a screen.

  “Seven o’clock. We spoke for fifty-two minutes.” Eric put his phone back down on the table. “Everything seemed on track, but he did seem a bit distracted.”

  “Distracted?” I asked.

  “Well, it was to be expected, given Mimi’s death and all. His plan was to go after Jerry and Mimi a little harder, try to get us extricated from all Century Project activities, but that was going to take a lot more work. It would burn some bridges too. We agreed to wait until this weekend when I came down, so he, Emma, and I could discuss all the options in person.”

  “Were you going to get yourself out of the Newbury Street project?” I asked. “That was the project Jerry seem to imply Gus had mishandled in some way.”

  “Gus mishandled? Gus? There’s something going on with that project, but Gus and I were both in the dark. I spent the better part of yesterday trying to figure it out. All I’ve found out so far is that its bills haven’t been paid and companies are putting a lien on the property. I was hoping to talk to Jerry about that too.”

  “What does Kate have to say for herself ?” Emma said. “She isn’t returning my calls or texts or emails.”

  “Her voicemail is full,” Eric said. “Both on her cell and at the office. She isn’t returning my calls either. Emma, do you remember if she took the lead on the Newbury project, or was it Gus? I know Gus was the end-product point person, but why do I remember Kate playing a bigger role in this particular project?”

  “I honestly don’t remember,” Emma said. “That was right around the time … right around the holidays. I know I sat through meetings, but I don’t really remember much. For all I know I dropped the ball on something important. I’m so sorry, Eric, I haven’t been holding up my end of the stick very well lately, have I?”

  “Emma, don’t. You falling behind is one hundred percent better than most people’s best work. You didn’t miss anything. This is all a little squiggly. Listen, while you’re at the funeral, how about if I add some index cards to your timeline? Some details about the projects?”

  “Eric, Hal shared a Dropbox folder with Emma this morning that he said had all the paperwork in it,” I said. “And Emma, you said Gus had shared a similar folder with you. Maybe it would be worth comparing the two? I wonder if there are some answers in there.”

  “Sounds like my kind of project,” Eric said. “Emma, can you give me access?”

  “Tell you what, brother, I’ll do you one better. Here’s the password to my email. Don’t judge, but it’s the same password for everything. Have at it, see what you can find. Forward the email to Sully so she can look at it too. Just remember to add notes to the index cards. Meanwhile, Sully and I will go to the funeral and represent the family.”

  • Thirteen •

  Emma Whitehall was a very punctual person. I, typically, was not. But she was a good influence on me, and was my ride to the service, so we found ourselves arriving a full forty-five minutes before the event started. We were not, however, the first. In fact, we had to park two blocks away, since the synagogue’s parking lot was already full. We found a spot, and Emma and I were both going through our larger bags trying to take only what was necessary with us to the service. Tissues, cell phones, lipstick for Emma, cough drops for me. Emma also slipped some of her business cards into her pocket. One good thing about winter coats is that they are full of all sorts of hidden pockets, making a purse almost obsolete. I checked one more time to make sure my lipstick was on straight, and noticed that the vehicle parked behind us also had two passengers, both sitting in the car, neither moving. I recognized the bouncy brown curls of Toni Vestri and saw the sun bounce off John Engel’s bald head.

  “Emma, wait here for a second. I just have to check in with somebody.”

  I got out of the car and walked back to the unmarked vehicle behind us. I knocked on Toni’s window, and she had the good grace to look embarrassed.

  “Hey, Sully,” she said.

  “Hey, Toni. Hey, John. You following me or staking out the service?”

  “Following you?” John said. “Don’t flatter yourself. We’ve got bigger fish to fry. The only reason to follow you would be to find your ne’er-do-well ex. But we’ll find him soon enough. Unless he’s really taken a runner. Wouldn’t blame him if he did. Evidence is really piling up against him—”

  “John, shut up.” Toni said. “We need to follow the evidence, but we can’t assume we know where it’s going to take us.”

  “Listen, I know you’re friends with Gus,” John said. “Hell, I know him too. We go way back. He’s a good guy. But you can’t tell me—”

  “John always was very good jumping to assumptions without evidence backing him up. His famous gut,” I said to Toni.

  “It only failed me once,” John said. “I never would’ve taken you for a snitch, that’s for sure.”

  “A snitch? That’s what you call it? Fine, at least I wasn’t closing my eyes to what was going on around me—”

  “Talk about no evidence—”

 
“Stop it, you two,” Toni said. “Seriously, I’ve had it. Believe it or not, we’re all on the same side.”

  “What side is that? The rat squad side?” John said.

  “God help us,” I said, “he’s been watching old gangster movies again, hasn’t he? That’s never good—”

  “Don’t provoke him, Sully, please. Hey, will you do us a favor?”

  “Not us. You. I wouldn’t ask her to spit on me if I were on fire—” John began.

  “Don’t worry, Engel, I wouldn’t. What do you need, Toni?”

  “I assume you’re here for the Mimi Cunningham service?” she asked. I nodded. “It’s private. Jerry Cunningham won’t let us in. It would be great if you could keep an eye out, take note of anything that draws your attention.”

  “See if Gus shows up, for one,” John said.

  “Thanks, John. Yes, see if Gus shows up. But also see who else shows up, who doesn’t. You know Babs Allyn, right?”

  “I do. She runs Bay Rep and I have some friends working there right now. She hasn’t been around for the past couple of days. Apparently she’s up in Vermont.”

  “Where in Vermont? Do you know?” Toni asked.

  “Holly—that’s her assistant—Holly was supposed to send me an address, but she hasn’t. Honestly, I forgot to ask her today. I’ll text her again, forward it to you.”

  “Why did you want the address?” Toni asked.

  “I don’t know.” I rubbed my hands together and looked around at the additional cars that were parking. I needed to get inside. “It just seemed odd that Babs left out of the blue like that. I never like it when things seem odd. Especially when somebody’s died.”

  “Well, if you see her, or Gus, or hear anything, or see anything, let me know, will you? Come to think of it, just call me later. Okay?”

  “I’ll call you later, Toni. I won’t call you John. That’s probably for the best, for both of our sakes.”

  As I walked back toward Emma’s car, she got out. Together we headed toward the synagogue and Mimi Cunningham’s memorial service.