Nick rolled his eyes. “Women.”
I laughed. “Whatever. You can’t say you aren’t a bit curious too.”
The elevator door opened, and Nick held it while I got in. “Nope, I’m not even a bit curious. But I will stand by, in case I need to save your life when she comes after you.”
“She won’t come after me. Besides, did you see her at the reception? She’s so drunk she can barely stand on her own.”
We’d watched as Marina, with her bright green melon martini in hand, stumble around the room, chatting it up like everyone didn’t know what a greedy, conniving bitch she was. Did she think people didn’t talk? I was surprised she still had any clients at all.
We exited the elevator just on the other side of Marina’s booth. Nick stopped before we turned the corner. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I knew he was being facetious, so I said, “I’m good.” No sooner were the words out of my mouth when I really didn’t feel so good. Not good at all.
50
It had been a few months since I’d come upon Esme Bailey’s body, and several weeks since I’d seen William Garrison on the floor in his bedroom, so when Nick and I turned the corner and found Marina Goldstein lying flat on her face in the middle of her booth, I felt the same as I did when I saw Esme. Sick.
Nick put his hand up. “Stay here. I’m going to check for a pulse.”
He pulled up his shirt and put the fabric over his nose and mouth before entering the booth. The smell was so bad from where I stood, and I couldn’t imagine being any closer. I had no trouble following Nick’s orders for a change. I waited as he crouched down next to the body and felt her wrist for a pulse. He shook his head, stood, and walked back to me.
“Something about this isn’t right.” He pulled out his cell phone.
“Like what?” It was a woman, face down in vomit, at a trade show.
“The smell is overwhelming. Usually a corpse doesn’t smell that bad unless they’ve been dead a while. Didn't we just see her at the reception?” He raised the phone to his ear.
“The smell is rather…” I turned and sprinted from the area. I needed fresh air, or I was going to be adding to the smell.
Before I became a private detective, I was a Secret Service agent, and believe me, that job didn’t prepare me for the deaths I’d seen in the last few months. I mean, I had stayed in posh hotels and flew in private jets, for goodness’ sake. That was how I met Charles. He’d been with the Naval Postgraduate School and I was “protecting” a former First Lady who was attending a luncheon and giving a speech. That was another life altogether.
Just before I sprinted toward the bathroom, I heard Nick say, “Hi, this is Detective Nick Christianson with the Salinas Police Department. I’m calling about a dead body at the Moscone West Convention Center. A possible homicide.”
I wasn’t gone five minutes, but when I got back, there was security everywhere. Nick, or someone, had used some sort of long, thin fabric to block off the area around Marina’s booth. When I opened the door, a building security woman refused to let me past. I stood tall and yelled, “Nick!”
I saw Nick take a step backward and look to where he’d heard his name. “She’s with me. Please let her in.”
The security woman, a hefty little thing of about five feet, put her arms back at her sides. “You could’ve just told me. You didn’t have to scream like that.”
“Like you would’ve believed me.” I pushed past her.
I arrived in the aisle at the same time as the San Francisco homicide detectives. It was a man and a woman, and they both wore black North Face jackets that read “SFPD Homicide” on the back. Nick’s old haunting grounds.
The next thing I saw knocked me off my feet more than the dead body. Nick had a huge grin on his face and he greeted the female detective with a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then he held her at arm’s length.
“Eva Garcia, you look so good.” I swear his cheeks were going to be sore from his huge smile.
Eva gave him the once over. “Damn, you look hot. You didn’t look this good when you were my partner.”
Eva’s partner and I stood, silently watching the reunion. It was obvious they had forgotten about everyone else in the room.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. The woman standing before Nick had missed her calling as a supermodel. She stood as tall as Nick, and even with a Kevlar vest, I could see she had some Victoria’s Secret curves on her. Her long, wavy hair was the color of black coffee, while her skin was the color of a mocha latte. Her eyes were so similar to Nick’s, a pale grey, that I’d swear they were related.
Eva came back to reality first and introduced her partner, Harry Willingsworth, who had board straight red hair, pink skin, and auburn freckles. He probably still got carded for beer.
Nick didn’t even turn around and acknowledge me. It was clear I’d been forgotten, and I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach.
“What are you doing here?” Eva asked.
“A friend from Salinas is selling here, and I’m helping. It’s a rather elaborate setup, and I had the day off, so, here I am.” Nick pointed to Anthony’s booth. “And then this.”
“Tell us what you know.” Harry was tired of old partners’ hour.
“We set up the booth, and went to the hospitality party. Mimi needed to get going, so I came with her to grab her bag before we headed out. When we walked by the booth, Marina was laid out on the floor.”
“And who is Mimi?” Did I hear a smidgen of jealousy in Eva’s voice?
Nick glanced around and gestured for me to come forward. “She’s an old friend from college. Mimi Capurro, this is my old homicide partner, Eva Garcia.”
I plastered on my best “old friend from college” smile, and endured the introductions.
“So you’ve known Nick a long time?”
I smiled for real this time. “Actually, it had been years since I’ve seen him. We just hooked back up again a couple of months ago.”
Nick laughed, sounding nervous. “Over a dead body, of all things. She found the body of a homicide victim. It was a terrible murder scene.”
Eva looked at me with sympathy. “You never get used to them, honey. Sorry you had to see this body. But a homicide?”
Honey? Did she just call me honey? “I’m pretty sure you heard Nick, my name is Mimi, not--”
Nick interrupted. “Eva, let’s take a closer look, shall we?”
Nick lifted the fabric shielding the booth and we all stepped closer. He pointed out the obvious and the not so obvious. “The way she’s laying on the floor indicates she asphyxiated in her own vomit. She may have been alive when she hit the carpet, but for some reason she couldn’t get her face out of her own body fluid.”
Eva and Harry moved closer to the body. They both put their hands over their mouths as they examined the details.
“It doesn’t appear that she tried to break her fall,” Harry said.
“No, it doesn’t. And there is a possibility she suffered a severe head injury if she hit this thin layer of carpet over the cement without something else to cushion the blow.” Nick put his shirt collar over his mouth and nose and moved in closer. He indicated the bare cement exposed a few inches from Marina’s head.
Just then there was a loud commotion from the end of the aisle. I looked up to see Willard Goldstein. He pushed and shoved his way past the security guards. “What the hell is going on here? Get away from our booth.” Then he looked into the booth. “Oh.”
The bravado blew out of him with an exaggerated exhale of breath, and he nearly collapsed. Eva reached out to steady him as he staggered. Then Harry stepped in and assisted her as someone brought a folding chair.
“Sir, who are you?” Eva said, quietly.
“Willard Goldstein. This is my booth,” he paused, “and that is my wife.”
He didn’t cry or break down; he just sat there and stared at his wife. It’s funny how some people handle grief.
I re
member when I’d learned about Dominic’s death. I’d been a basket case. Inconsolable. My mother had talked on several occasions about having me hospitalized. But I couldn’t do that; I had Lola to take care of. In hindsight, Lola took care of me. She gave me someone to talk to, who listened without giving advice, someone to feed, and a reason to get up in the morning. Who knew a dog could save your life? I wondered if Willard had a dog.
“Mr. Goldstein, what’s your wife’s name?” Eva spoke to him like he was a small child.
“Marina.” He rubbed his face with both of his hands. “Was it a heart attack?”
“Did your wife have a history of heart disease?” Harry inquired.
“No. But these shows, they caused her so much stress.” Willard put his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands. “I told her it was too much stress. We should have quit traveling.”
I looked around at the growing crowd and caught a glimpse of Becky. I could have sworn she had a smile on her face. When I looked back, she was gone.
Nick stepped in, like this was his territory. “Mr. Goldstein, where were you?”
Willard looked up. Defensively, he said, “I was making sure the last of our empty crates were in the storage area. They’d lost the crates at another show, so I wanted to check. I didn’t want Marina to blow a gasket when it came time to pack at the end of the show.”
“Did she ‘blow a gasket’ often?” Eva asked, making it clear to Nick that she was in charge.
“Every time we did a trade show.” Willard shook his head. “I told her that sooner or later the stress would kill her. I just didn’t expect it would be sooner.”
Harry stepped in front of Nick. “Mr. Goldstein, did you and your wife have any marital problems?”
Willard laughed, but it was an ironic sound. “As much as any couple who works together. We fought, we made up, the usual. Why are you asking me these questions?”
“Mr. Goldstein, since your wife died alone, without any witnesses, we have to have the M.E. do an autopsy. And right now, there seems to be some evidence of foul play.”
“Foul play?” Willard jumped up. “What do you mean foul play?”
“I’ll tell you what, Mr. Goldstein, we’ll give you a ride to the police station, and maybe you can answer some questions for us.”
“But why? I don’t understand.” Willard scratched his head, confused and frantic.
“We just want to be sure Marina died of natural causes. And it’s not doing us any good to talk to you here.” HARRY gestured to the body, and all of the people standing around.
I looked around, too. There had to be twenty or thirty people standing at the barriers that had been erected. They were like rubberneckers, trying to get a better view of the body, so they’d have something to talk about over dinner, or when they got home. Me, I’d had enough dead bodies to last me a lifetime.
“Nick, can I grab my bag, so we can hit the road?” I didn’t want to seem callous, but I didn’t like the dead woman, and I didn’t really want to be involved in the investigation.
“I’m going to ride with Eva and Harry,” Nick turned to Eva, “if that’s alright with you?”
“Sure. The guys will love to see you again. Maybe afterward, we can get a bite to eat and catch up on old times.” She put her notebook in her pocket. She indicated toward Willard. “Harry, why don’t you walk him to the car?”
Are you kidding me? I was being dumped for a Victoria’s Secret model. Why was Nick always partnered with such beautiful women? First Eva and now… well, Piper, his current partner, wasn’t interested in men, so it wasn’t an issue. I was livid. If there hadn’t been so many people around, I’d have thrown a temper tantrum. I was about to anyway, when I looked up and saw Charles staring at me. He was shaking his head. He knew the look. He knew I was about to explode. I wanted to kick something.
Nick tossed me his car keys. “Go to your hotel room, and I’ll meet up with you later.”
“Really? There's a dead body at the show, but now it's okay for me to go to the hotel by myself?" When there wasn't a dead body, he felt compelled to escort me. What the hell had happened to that?
Nick’s voice was patronizing. “Yes, Mimi, there’s a dead body, and it has nothing to do with you this time, so get a room, and I’ll meet you later.” He walked away, not waiting for my response.
“It’s not your dead body.” I just knew he would end up in bed with Eva. There was more to that partnership than business. “Grrrr.” Yes, I growled out loud.
I walked to the end of the barricade and ducked under it. As I did, the crime scene guys arrived with cameras and evidence collecting equipment. I tried to forget what was going on behind me and went into Anthony’s booth to get my cell phone and bag.
Charles grabbed me by the arm. “What the hell is going on?”
“Marina is dead, lying flat out in a puddle of her own vomit in the middle of her booth. Nick just left to have a romp in the sack with his old partner, and I’m going to the hotel room.” I stomped past him into the booth.
“Okay, Miss Spoiled Brat, that’s enough.” Charles jerked me around to face him.
He was right. Oh God, I hated it when he was right. I was being a baby. With the great drive up here, and having drinks with Nick, I had been so happy. And now that stupid dead lady was ruining it.
“She’s dead? What?” Anthony had overheard my rant.
I looked at Anthony, who wasn’t at all upset. In fact, I was sure he was about to break out a bottle of bubbly. “Marina is dead.”
“I get it. She’s dead. But what does this have to do with Nick or the police?” Charles was putting his virtual investigator’s hat in place.
“Nick thinks it might be suspicious. I didn’t understand most of it, but apparently it’s about the way she’s positioned, and something about hitting her head. Oh, and asphyxiation from her own vomit…”
Anthony grinned. “God, I hope it was a painful death.”
“Anthony!” Charles said, appalled.
“Oh, please, you know you feel the same way.” Anthony walked to the back of the booth and picked up a doll.
Charles laughed. “You have no idea. But at least I’d have waited to say it.” They gave each other a high five.
“Boys.” Just as I said this, I heard a question from one of the CSI guys.
“What’s this?” He held up something in his hand.
“It’s a voodoo doll,” I whispered.
Anthony and Charles stopped dead in their tracks. Anthony asked, “A what?”
I turned back to them. “Holy shit, Anthony.”
The senior officer asked, “Where did you get that?”
“It was clutched in her hand, under her body. There’s some kind of needle sticking out of it,” the CSU officer responded.
Anthony panicked. “I don’t put needles in my voodoo dolls. It has to be someone else’s. Besides, I may have hated her, but I couldn’t kill her, or I’d have done it with a voodoo doll a long time ago.”
Charles clasped Anthony’s hand. “You do have motive.”
51
It’s all fun and games until someone you know might be a suspect. Really, it wasn’t so much fun and games. No matter how Charles and Anthony were acting, no one really wanted anyone dead like that. Or do they?
I could think of a few people I wouldn’t be upset about if they just happened to die, but I wouldn’t kill them. Then I thought about what Susan did to her best friend and roommate, Esme. She decapitated her. I couldn’t do that, since I’d prefer to be far, far away when the actual time of death occurred. Apparently the killer in this case felt the same way. That is, if there was a killer. But the needle in the voodoo doll did seem a bit suspicious.
“Anthony, don’t worry, you’ve had someone with you the whole time you’ve been here,” I reasoned.
“No, I haven’t.” Anthony paced the expanse of the ten foot booth. “Charles didn’t get here until much later than I did.”
“But
you didn’t know she was going to be here, right?” Charles stepped in front of Anthony to halt the pacing.
“That’s just it, there’s a program. I knew she’d be here. I just didn’t know which booth because it wasn’t in the program. What are the chances, in a show this big, that we’d be on the same aisle?” Anthony tried to go around Charles.
Charles grabbed him and hugged him. Close to his ear, but not quietly, he said, “I know you. This isn’t your style. Mine maybe, but not yours.”
Anthony pushed Charles to arm’s length. “What are you saying?”
Two deep wrinkles formed between Charles’s brows. “Excuse me?”
“I know you could do it. But did you?” Anthony’s face was red.
I wasn’t sure if Anthony was embarrassed to have asked the question, or furious. But I knew when Charles turned red next that he wasn’t embarrassed. Charles doesn’t get embarrassed. He also doesn’t have public tantrums like I do.
“Fuck you.” Charles spun around and left the booth.
“No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that.” Anthony ran after him.
The senior officer yelled, “Wait, just a minute.”
Anthony and Charles were long gone.
“Don’t worry, they aren’t going far. They’ll be back in the morning if you need to talk to them.” I handed him my business card.
“Thank you.” He took my card and looked it over. “Just in case this is a homicide, you know.”
I sat down on the folding chair provided by the show committee. I just wanted to go home. Nick abandoned me, and now Charles and Anthony had left me in the lurch, too.
When I heard my phone ringing from my bag I retrieved it in a hurry. Maybe Nick was coming back to get me. Ha, I should be so lucky. It was the agency.
“Are we having fun yet?” Jackie’s voice chimed through the line.
“Not so much. What’s up?”
“Sorry to hear that. I just wanted to let you know that Lola is staying with the twins tonight. I have a spy meeting tonight.”
Gotcha Detective Agency Mystery Box Set Page 40