A mixture of stunned disbelief at how much Alex knew about me and amusement at the thought of my having any romantic feelings for Derek washed over me. My brain felt like it short-circuited, and not knowing what to say, I let out a laugh as the thought of Derek and me settled into my mind.
“Did I say something funny?” Alex asked, his gaze intently focused on me now.
“No. I guess I just got sidetracked by the idea of Derek and me together since, to be honest, I felt a little exposed by the rest of what you said.”
“So no secret romance between you and him?” he asked with a smile that told me he was trying to make things less uncomfortable.
I shook my head and screwed my face into an expression that was meant to show my distaste for anything like that with Derek Hampton. “No. He’s nice, but he’s not my type.”
“I had a feeling. As for the other things I said, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I’ve been prying into your personal life. Your father loves you a great deal and he likes to brag about you. I will admit I checked into what he said and found he wasn’t exaggerating. Your job at The Bottom Line might be beneath you, but you’re good at it. See? You are a detective in your heart.”
The reality of how little progress I’d made in finding out who’d murdered Geneva or even proving that it wasn’t a robbery gone wrong like Derek thought made my shoulders sag, and I lowered my head to admit the truth. “I’m not a very good detective, it seems. I haven’t gotten very far with this case.”
“You came out to my house to ask me a few questions last night before I ran you off like some criminal, so I have a proposition to make you. I’d like to help you with the Geneva Woodward case, if you’ll take my assistance.”
Once again, Alex Montero had surprised me. “Why would you want to help me instead of helping Derek? He’s the actual policeman. I’m just an amateur investigator with wild ideas. Or at least that’s what Derek thinks.”
Leaning back against the chair, Alex smiled. “From what I heard that day in the office, he’s got what happened to that woman all figured out. He wouldn’t be interested in my help.”
“You’re a real detective, and you want to work with me? Why?” I asked, still in disbelief he’d want to partner up with me.
“Because you have good instincts, and I agree with you. This wasn’t a robbery gone south. Someone murdered that woman, and I’m guessing it was a crime of passion. Or maybe it was premeditated, but whatever happened, it wasn’t some stranger caught at the wrong place at the wrong time like Derek wants to believe.”
“Really? Why do you think that it wasn’t a thief breaking in and getting caught?” I asked while inside I rejoiced at the fact that a Baltimore detective actually believed as I did about the case.
“Because I’m like you. I listen to what the people in this town say as I sit next to them while they drink their morning coffee or stand in line with them at the Post Office. They’ve seen me enough times in town to not pay any attention to me anymore since my newness has worn off, so it’s the perfect chance to listen to what they have to say without them noticing.”
“Have you heard anything interesting?”
“I’ve heard a lot of interesting things in the time I’ve lived around here, but nothing about this case. Derek mentioned that you were talking to people about it, though, so have you found anything yet?”
I thought about all I’d heard and sighed. “Yes and no. I think some of it may be useful.”
“Tell me.”
I took a mouthful of coffee to finish the cup and sat up in my chair. “Okay. So far I’ve spoken to her next door neighbor Michelle Steadman—well, Shelley—and found out that Geneva had begun to receive nighttime visits from some mystery man about a month ago. That would fit in with what my father told me about her coming around to see him before that.”
“So Geneva had an active private life.”
“The problem is that she always acted like she didn’t. Before I began asking around, I’d never heard anything about Geneva Woodward like Shelley and my father said.”
“Okay. What else?”
“I had a meeting with the Founders’ Day committee the other day for a piece I’m writing for The Eagle and I found out a lot about Geneva there. For one thing, all those women didn’t seem like they’d shed even a single tear when they found out poor Geneva had been strangled to death.”
“Maybe because one of them is the one who did it? Maybe they’re covering for one of their own?” he asked.
I sat back as my brain processed what he’d said. “I never thought about it that way. I don’t know.”
“Well, we’ll keep it in mind. What else did you find out at the meeting?”
“A lot of gossip about Geneva basically being the town trollop. They claimed she’d had affairs with a number of well-known men in town. When I told Derek about that, he said he’d heard the rumors before her death and had already checked out the husbands and their wives and found out they all had solid alibis.”
“Is there any reason to not believe that?” Alex asked with a look of concern I couldn’t place.
“No. Why?”
“Because if there isn’t, you can disregard that piece of information. While it may be useful to understanding Geneva’s character, it doesn’t point to any of them being suspects. So we can forget about them but remember what they said about her, assuming we believe Derek.”
“Okay.” I mentally went through my notes about the meeting and said, “I think that’s about it. Lots of talking pretty poorly about the dead, which isn’t surprising with that group, but not much else.”
“So our best lead so far is Geneva’s next door neighbor, Shelley. Is she sure the person coming to see Geneva at night was a man?”
I nodded, remembering how insistent she’d been that poor Geneva was having some kind of midnight rendezvous a few times a week. Then that comment the mayor’s wife had made about the police at her house jumped into my mind.
“There was one more thing. The First Lady, I mean Eleanor Girard, the former mayor’s wife, said that she knew for a fact that the police had been called to Geneva’s house a number of times, but when I told Derek about that, he said there wasn’t even one call to her house logged in on the station’s computer system.”
“Interesting. Is there any reason to believe she lied or exaggerated?”
I thought about the woman who insisted on being called the First Lady even now after her husband left office months ago. “Everything about Eleanor Girard is an exaggeration, but I don’t know if I’d say she’d lie. She is a politician’s wife, though, so maybe.”
Alex said nothing for a long while, which made me feel like he’d listened to what I’d said and was trying to find a way to tell me I really wasn’t very good at this detective thing. I didn’t have much to go on yet, but in my defense, this was my first case. If things were moving slowly, I wanted to believe I’d get better as things continued.
Finally, I broke the silence, unable to keep quiet any longer. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but I still believe she wasn’t killed by some stranger.”
He shook his head and smiled. “Please don’t take my silence for anything other than my thinking things through. It’s just how I work. As for not having much, I think you’re wrong. Shelley is definitely worth another look because she can give us some information about what Geneva was doing at the time she was murdered in the days preceding her death, and what the ladies of the Founders’ Day committee thought may be useful too.”
“You know what’s been on my mind ever since I started investigating this? The picture all these people paint of Geneva is so different than what I’d always thought of her. She always seemed so distant and cold, yet all these women tell stories that contradict that.”
“So either you’re wrong or they are. Which is it?”
“I’m not sure. I guess there’s a good chance they’re right and I didn’t really know her at all,” I admitted.
&nbs
p; He stood from the table and threw his coffee cup in the garbage. “Well, then let’s see what we can find out.”
I looked up at him standing there waiting for me to join him to set out to find who had killed Geneva Woodward and still wondered what he was doing helping me. “Why are you doing this, Alex?”
That look of hurt settled into his eyes once again, and after a long pause he said, “I need an excuse to get out of my house and join the land of the living and you need help. So let’s get started.”
I heard sadness in his voice when he said land of the living. As he stood smiling down at me, I had a sense his happiness was forced.
Whatever the pain of his past was, he hadn’t shaken it yet.
Chapter Eight
Alex and I walked up the sidewalk toward Shelley Steadman’s front porch and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. I figured I should warn him about her. “Just a head’s up. Shelley’s probably going to try to get you to be husband number four. She’s like that.”
Grinning like what I’d said amused him, he said, “Then I guess I’ll be the one asking the questions today. You’d be surprised at how loose people’s tongues become when they have something else on their minds.”
I had a feeling he got that a lot, so I didn’t fight him on the idea of him taking the lead with her. Whatever it took to get her to either tip her hand and show herself as the killer or reveal some clue to go on about Geneva’s mystery man, I was all for it.
He knocked on the door as I leaned in and whispered, “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Derek texted me that the coroner is putting the time of death between midnight and three Monday morning.”
Just as the door began to open, he turned his head and winked. “Good to know. I’m curious to know where Shelley was during that time.”
I opened my mouth to ask why he’d already decided she was a person of interest, but I didn’t get a chance before Shelley herself was standing in front of us. It took her no time to decide she liked Alex, and the happy expression on her face instantly showed just how much.
“Good morning! What can I do for you on this beautiful day?” she said in almost a purring sound as she extended her hand toward Alex. “And who might you be?”
He shook her hand and flashed her a smile like he knew exactly how to manipulate her interest. “My name is Alex Montero, Mrs. Steadman. I think you already know Miss McGuire. Do you have a few minutes to speak to us?”
Shelley’s gaze drifted up and down Alex’s body, finally settling on his face. With a big toothy grin, she corrected him. “I’m not married, Alex, and I’m happy to speak to you about anything you’d like.”
“Thank you. I promise we won’t take up much of your time,” he said in a purring voice that matched hers as he stepped over the threshold into her foyer.
I followed along feeling like the ugly stepchild, mumbling, “It’s nice to see you again too, Shelley.”
But if she heard my snide remark, she ignored it. Her attention was entirely on Alex, who she had taken hold of and was now walking arm in arm with toward her parlor. For his part, he seemed completely at home with her fawning all over him, so I just hung back and did my best to be invisible since he obviously had a plan for how to get her to loosen her tongue, as he’d said.
She offered him a seat on her settee next to her and slid over toward him so she was practically sitting on his lap. “What can I do for you, Alex? Are you helping the police with solving poor Geneva’s murder?”
“I am, so any help you can give today would be so appreciated. We just have a few questions.”
His use of the word we made Shelley look over toward me as I stood next to her fireplace fiddling with three porcelain monkeys that sat on the mantle. “I almost didn’t see you there, Poppy. I think it’s wonderful that you have a man like Alex to help you with your investigation. I’m sure the wretched man who committed this horrible crime will be caught now.”
“Yes, it’s wonderful to have a wonderful man like Alex by my side,” I said with as much civility as I could muster. What I really wanted to tell her was that I didn’t appreciate her demeaning me as a woman and treating me like I needed some man around to solve this case.
But I didn’t since the entire time Shelley was turned around speaking to me he was giving me the “don’t mess this up” look. I didn’t much appreciate that either.
Turning back toward her new favorite man, she placed her hand on his bicep and purred, “Would you like something to drink? I’ll be right back with some iced tea and cookies I know you’ll just devour.”
And with that, she rushed out of the room, leaving me standing there glaring at him. I took three giant steps in his direction and stopped as my anger bubbled up inside me.
“I don’t know which is worse. Shelley treating me like I’m some helpless female tied to the railroad tracks who needs to be rescued by a big, wonderful man like you, or you giving me that look like I’m a complete idiot who doesn’t see exactly what you’re up to.”
My outburst surprised him, and for a moment he said nothing. All the better. I didn’t want to argue with him. I just wanted him to know I wasn’t a complete social klutz.
When he did speak, he hadn’t turned off his smarminess better suited to Shelley. “Poppy, I just wanted to make sure you knew what I was doing.”
I leaned down close to him so she wouldn’t hear and whispered, “Don’t use that sappy voice with me. That may work with the likes of her, but it doesn’t with me. How about you remember I’m not tagging along as your assistant or gal Friday here? And don’t treat me like I’m some accessory, like a new tie or cufflinks.”
If what I said earlier had surprised him, now he was downright stunned. I stepped back to my post near the fireplace before his eyes returned to their normal size and folded my arms across my chest. I didn’t want to hear anything more from him or give him a chance to think of something nice to say.
Shelley came back to the parlor pushing a cart with a glass pitcher of iced tea, three already filled glasses, and a plate of sugar cookies. Parking it a few feet away from Alex on the settee, she handed him a glass of iced tea and then turned to offer me one too. At least I wouldn’t have to stand there without something to do and watch the two of them have a nice little snack while they fawned over one another.
“I have to use a cart because I can’t carry trays anymore. I have problems holding anything after too many years working. Thankfully, I don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Shelley explained to Alex as she offered him a cookie. “Please take one. They melt in your mouth. I made them myself.”
“I love sugar cookies,” he cooed as he took one from the plate and bit into it. “Oh, they’re delicious, Shelley.”
When I couldn’t stand to watch her moon over him eating her sugar cookie any longer, I said loudly, “So Shelley, we’re here to talk about the mystery man you told me about the other day when I was here.”
And had no iced tea or cookies offered to me.
Both Alex and Shelley looked over at me for a moment like I was some rude intruder on a private moment, but he quickly recovered and nodded. “Poppy’s right. We do need to get down to business, no matter how tempting your cookies are. Do you remember anything more about the man you saw going into Geneva’s house?”
She took a moment to think, or maybe it was to gaze into his eyes, but then she said, “I can tell you he was tall, dark haired, and well-built. Not as well-built as you, but definitely in shape.”
Alex pressed her further. “Do you think you can be even more detailed?”
Shelley slid her hand down over his bicep again and sighed. “You know how when you see an attractive man and you just know under his clothes there’s an incredible body?” She paused to see if her arrow had hit its mark, and when she saw Alex smile, she continued. “I don’t think he had that kind of body but he wasn’t fat, old, and flabby.”
As much as my new partner might have thought this was helping, we weren’t getting anywhere. We
ll, unless Alex’s aim was to be fawned over like the star quarterback after the big game. If that were the case, he and Shelley were definitely getting the job done.
Even though I knew it risked ruining his whole plan, I chimed in and asked, “How many times did you see this man, Shelley? When did the visits begin?”
She turned on the settee and flashed me a look of disgust. “I saw him no less than six times. As for when the visits began, I want to say it was about a month ago. Yeah, a month ago sounds right.”
“And what was he dressed in?” I asked, feeling like if I didn’t get all my questions in at once, she’d turn back to flirting with Alex and we’d never move forward.
She looked up toward the ceiling and with an audible sigh said, “I don’t know. It was always dark. I want to say he was in dark clothes, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Was he wearing a coat? It was cold a few weeks ago,” I said as I thought about how low the temperatures had stayed until early April this year.
Shelley shook her head. “No, I don’t think he was wearing a coat the times I saw him. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t when I didn’t see him.”
I felt my face twist into an expression of disgust at her unhelpfulness. This woman wasn’t useful at all.
“Shelley, can we see where you were standing so we can know exactly what you saw?” Alex asked in a far too accommodating voice for my taste.
Clearly excited by his suggestion, she chirped, “Of course. Follow me.”
Shelley led us upstairs to a bedroom and the window that looked out over Geneva’s backyard. Pulling back the curtains, she pointed to the house next door. “I was standing right here. I saw the man go in through the back door there.”
The Eleventh Hour Page 8