Gotcha Detective Agency Mystery Box Set

by Jamie Lee Scott

  “Don’t put that wallet away just yet. We’ll make this our first date, and you’re buying me a coffee. We can sit and talk about the joys of doing trade shows.” I hooked my arm in Zack’s as we walked to the convention center’s coffee service.

  I desperately wanted to look back, but didn’t dare. And Zack adjusted quite nicely to having my arm in his.

  I sat at the table while Zack ordered. He brought back not only coffee, but blueberry muffins and cranberry-orange scones.

  “How did you know I hadn’t had breakfast?”

  “Occupational hazard at these things.”

  The only occupational hazard I had was being in the vicinity of Nick.

  Instead of sitting across from me, Zack sat in the plastic chair next to me at the small round table. Just in case, I moved my chair a bit closer to his. I wanted it to look good, after all.

  “What I wouldn’t give for a real coffee house at one of these things. My aunt was so fussy; she brought her own espresso machine and coffee. She and Uncle Willard enjoyed delicious coffee in the hotel room, while I’m relegated to this crap.” He did a test sip.

  I did the same. “It’s not bad.”

  “It’s not Marina’s espresso, but it’ll do, since no one is going in Uncle Willard’s room this week.”

  “What do you mean?” I set my cup down.

  “They were usually real private regarding their personal space, but since Aunt Marina died, Uncle Willard has locked himself in his room.” Zack stared off. “Hotel room, booth and that’s it for him. I guess he doesn’t want everyone talking to him about Marina’s death. Last night, he even told me to go away when I went to check on him.”

  “He’s probably a wreck.”

  “He and Aunt Marina did everything together since he lost his job. They ate, drank, worked, slept and breathed as one.” Zack shook his head. “Man, he must’ve really loved her.”

  “I hope so. He married her.” I thought it was such a weird thing to say. I wondered aloud, “What did Willard do before we worked with Marina?”

  “Telemarketing,” Zack said. “He managed a district telemarketing division. Because of the crappy economy, the company downsized, and his office was shut down.”

  “Oh.” But I was thinking about motive. Could this be a motive? “Did Marina have a nice life insurance policy?”

  “How should I know? Besides, what does it matter?” Zack’s posture stiffened.

  “Well, money is always a good motive.” I considered for a moment, and then blurted out, “Can you think of anyone who’d want your aunt dead?”

  “Do the police really think my aunt was murdered?” Zack looked skeptical.

  “They haven’t said anything yet. I’m just wondering. She didn’t seem to be well-liked.” I tried prodding him for names.

  “Marina had lots of friends. You just know the people who didn’t like her.” Again with the defensive words and posture.

  “Look, I know she’s your aunt, and we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but she stepped on a lot of toes while clawing her way to the top. Remember, I heard a lot about her antics, long before she stuck her claws into Anthony.”

  “To be honest, I can name about half a dozen people here who wouldn’t be so sad to see her dead.”

  “Like who?” Come on already, spill some names so I can get to it, I was thinking. “Didn’t she fire that Becky woman?”

  “Becky? Yeah, she worked for my aunt. But there’s a lot more to that little scene.”

  Curious. “Are you going to tell me?”

  “Let me just say this: Becky was doing a lot more than just her job. Although, the other things she did may have included the word ‘job’ in them.” Zack leaned back in his chair with a huge grin on his face.

  “Mind not being so cryptic? Talking to you is like pulling teeth.”

  “I’ll say this: not having teeth would have made the kind of job Becky was doing much easier.”

  I frowned, then chuckled as I got his meaning.

  Zack looked past me and jumped up. “Hey, I’ve got to get back to the booth. Uncle Willard will have a coronary. I’ve been gone way too long.”

  Instead of walking back the way we came in, Zack zipped off in the opposite direction. And when Nick and Eva approached from my right, I realized Zack wasn’t in a hurry to get back to work; he was just in a hurry to get away.

  “A friend of yours?” Eva asked.

  I looked at Nick before answering. “He’s Marina’s nephew.”

  “I know. We talked to him for a few minutes last night. He came to pick up his uncle from the station.” Nick sat down next to me.

  “What did he have to say?” Eva remained standing.

  I paused a moment to let her squirm. “The coffee here isn’t as bad as he thought.”

  Eva gripped the back of Nick’s chair. “I couldn’t give a crap about the coffee. What were you two discussing?”

  Again, I took a breath before responding. “Coffee,” I grinned. “Oh, and blowjobs.”

  Now Nick was grinning, but apparently Eva didn’t think I was all that funny.

  “Right,” she spat at me. “Come, Nick, let’s go.”

  Nick put his hand on mine. “We’re expecting the preliminary tests this morning. I’ll call you if it’s not natural causes.”

  “Don’t bother. I really don’t care.” I stood. “Have a safe trip home, Nick.”

  I left, not waiting for a response. Nick knew how I felt, but he apparently didn’t share my feelings. I was done with him. But I wasn’t done snooping.

  Suddenly, I had the urge to open my very own gift boutique. Yes, and I should definitely check out as many of the vendors as possible to stock my new store. But who should I start with, other than Becky Baker?

  When I arrived back at the booth, the traffic had slowed a bit, but Anthony and Charles were scrambling about.

  “So, did you knock them dead while I was gone?”

  “Not really appropriate, don’t you think?” Anthony nodded towards Marina’s booth.

  “Fine. Lots of sales?”

  “We could have used you,” Charles said. He scribbled away in a sales pad.

  “It’s a total of four hundred dolls.” Charles tossed the sales pad on the chair and high-fived Anthony.

  “Holy smokes. Well, at least we paid for the trip. Everything else will be gravy.” He made a slurping sound.

  Gross. But four hundred dolls was awesome. “Congrats. I hope the rest of the show goes as well.”

  “Sometimes all it takes is one sale to make the whole show.” Anthony straightened one of the dolls about a quarter of an inch. Then he picked up another and blew imaginary dust from its head. “Just one sale.”

  Charles butted in. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You need to sell at least a thousand dolls this weekend to make it worth the trip.”

  “True,” Anthony conceded. “But with future sales when the stores restock, it could be many thousands.”

  We all fist bumped.

  I ruined the celebration by asking, “Which of the vendors here were clients of Marina’s?”

  “Why?” Anthony and Charles asked in stereo.

  “I was just wondering who’d have motive to kill her.”

  In investigator mode, Charles asked, “What do you know that you haven’t told me?”

  Anthony went to the back of the booth, leaving us alone.

  “Nothing, really. I just don’t think this is going to be cut and dried natural causes.”

  “What makes you think that?” Conspiracy was Charles’s favorite topic.

  “You and Anthony didn’t like her--“

  “That’s putting it mildly,” Charles interrupted.

  “I was talking,” I snapped.

  “And apparently, you still are. So what’s the theory in that pretty little head of yours?” Charles picked up the sales pad and placed his butt in the chair.

  Only Charles could get away with speaking to me like that, so I ignored it and c
ontinued. “Well, if you didn’t like her, there had to be others. Becky was fired by her. There are several vendors who split with her on bad terms. Maybe someone here thought it was the perfect venue for getting rid of her once and for all.”

  Anthony came out from the back area. He shoved a piece of paper at me. “This is the list of people I know are here. There may be others.”

  I grabbed for the paper, but Anthony held fast. “What?”

  He pulled back. “I’ll give this to you on one condition.”

  56

  Charles and I left the booth and a seething Anthony watched us go. I looked back several times as we walked away, for fear of a voodoo doll with my likeness being strangled. Instead, Anthony was tidying up.

  “This whole thing has his stomach in knots,” Charles explained. “The stress of the show was bad enough, but finding that voodoo doll under Marina’s dead body really spooked him.”

  “Why? It’s not like the doll can prove anything.”

  Charles put his arm around my shoulders. “How long have we known each other?”

  I just looked at him.

  “Then I shouldn’t have to explain Anthony’s reaction to you.” He squeezed my shoulders. “Now, let me look at that list.”

  I gave him the list. “I just have to get a directory to find their booths.”

  Charles reached in his back pocket and pulled out a rolled up program. “Ask, and you shall receive.”

  We sat on a bench near the bank of elevators. Charles read off the names, and I gave him the booth numbers. Looking closer, I noticed, in very small print, that Anthony had given the reason why each particular person hated Marina. Very nice.

  Charles placed stars next to three names. “I think you should start with these people first.”

  I pointed to the first name. “A hundred thousand dollars?”

  “She’s an evil, greedy bitch, isn’t she? And that doesn’t even include the court and attorney’s fees. Poor guy.” Charles shook his head.

  “Greed is one of the seven deadly sins.”

  “I’ve got to get back to the booth before Anthony’s head explodes.” Charles stood. “And remember, not another word about this in his presence.”

  Anthony made me promise not to talk about the investigation, or my snooping in front of him. That was his one condition in helping me.

  I stayed seated, studying the venue map. “Not a word.”

  I headed to Becky’s booth first. I was curious to see if any of the gift show knowledge she’d learned while working for Marina had paid off.

  Becky’s company had a double booth that looked more like a small boutique than a gift show salesroom. Each of her lines was clearly delineated from the others by a different paint color on the wall. Looking closer, it wasn’t paint, but a sheet of wallpaper. She’d hung it from a rod high on the temporary wall, and picked a color that complimented the artists’ works.

  She represented at least three clothing lines, a boot company, several jewelry designs, a handbag line and some sort of eclectic kitchen accessories company. All of the lines were tastefully represented.

  Becky looked up as I approached. Grinning, she said, “Scanning the competition for Anthony?”

  “No, I’m just being nosy. I’m a private detective, so I have a hard time turning it off.” I picked up what I thought might be a potholder, but it could have been a penis warmer, the way it was shaped.

  “Nosy about the gift show industry, or something more sinister?” She took the object from me and fiddled with it.

  I liked her looks. She was artsy, yet professional looking. Her hair was coiffed in a French Twist and pinned with a piece from one of the lines she repped. She wore a form-fitting black blouse with wide-legged black slacks.

  “How do you stand on this floor all day in those shoes?” I asked.

  She lifted her leg up and pulled up the lower part of her trousers to expose sexy black pumps with a four inch heel. “Sex sells.”

  “Don’t I know it,” I said.

  “How do you mean?” She was genuinely curious, not just making conversation.

  “Most of my business comes from chasing down cheating spouses.” I tilted my head. “Married women have been known to stray.”

  “Married men, too,” she laughed.

  “Them, too.”

  “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

  “Mimi Capurro.”

  “Something tells me this isn’t a social call, though I could see where a night of drinks with you would be a hoot.” She looked past me. “Excuse me a minute.”

  I listened as she gave her speech to the potential buyer, so I tried to look busy. Even if this woman was a killer, I couldn’t begrudge her earning an honest living. I mean, she may have attorney bills to pay soon.

  The buyer acted like she wanted to be left alone, so Becky backed off. I watched and decided to have some fun.

  I walked over to one of the jewelry companies Becky repped, and picked up a sterling silver necklace. “Oh, I have this line in my store, and it flies off the shelves. Did you get the reorder I put in last week?”

  Becky stared for a second before catching on. “Yes, I did. Thanks.” She led me to a line of accessories. “Have you seen the new button scarf from ‘All Buttoned Up’?”

  I picked up an outrageously expensive cashmere neck scarf that was shorter than the average scarf. Becky helped me put it on. She wrapped it around my neck one and a half times, and then buttoned the ends together in front. The button was a huge flat glass bead.

  “Oh, wow, I absolutely love this!” And I did. It was soft, yet thick and warm.

  The buyer was suddenly interested. I backed off as Becky answered the buyer’s questions. Go me!

  As Becky wrote up an order for the customer, I looked around at her other accessories. She had some really cute jewelry lines, but nothing I could wear. In my business, I wanted to blend in, not stand out, so wearing fun, flashy clothing or accessories was out. And if I ever got the chance to actually go out on the town with friends, or on a date, I didn’t really get all that dressed up. I could appreciate the items without wanting to own them.

  Becky walked up behind me and said, “Thanks, you’re good.”

  I smiled. “If you only knew.”

  “Like I said earlier, you’re not here for a social call. It’s about Marina, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t even try to lie. “Why did she fire you?”

  Becky looked down the aisle, then back to me. “She said I didn’t try hard enough to sell all of the lines she repped.”

  “Okay?”

  “She had a strict rule that her assistants had to give equal effort to all of the lines. She said I had my favorites.” Becky grinned. “I did. But the thing is, I was an independent contractor, and she couldn’t fire me. There’s a lot of legal bullshit to it, but suffice it to say, with Marina it was better to let a sleeping dog lie.”

  “How is that? I’d sue the crap out of her.”

  “Yeah, that’s because you don’t know her like I do. Have you met her nephew, Zack?”

  I nodded.

  “He hated her.” She walked over to a clothing line and straightened items a customer had handled.

  “Really? I didn’t get that from him.” I didn’t think she was his favorite aunt, but I didn’t get any hate vibes.

  “He won’t tell you, but he hates her and the company. But he’s stuck there; Marina made sure of it.” She folded a sweater and placed it back on the table.

  “He did say that she was very stressed, and difficult to work with. So why didn’t he just quit?”

  “Why indeed,” Becky said, before she was distracted by another customer entering the booth.

  I left the booth, since I didn’t have all day. Who was I kidding? I had all day and then some. But I thought it’d be more fun to snoop than to stand and wait until Becky finished with her business.

  Just down the aisle, I stopped at a lovely jewelry booth. The jewelry was person
alized, inspirational, and unique. The sign stated that everything was sterling silver. I picked up a bracelet that had a cool etching on it. The band was thick and fit my wrist nicely. The wholesale price was what I’d expect to pay retail, but with the rising price of sterling, she wasn’t really that overpriced.

  The booth was tasteful, with shades of white, gray and aqua over black table covers. The tables were about a foot higher than average, and covered in jewelry busts and bars. It looked like the window dressings of the high-end jewelry stores.

  “Hi. All of the jewelry is handmade and etched in our studios. We do all of our work here in the U.S.” The woman in the booth had a lovely, soft voice.

  “It’s beautiful. But sadly, I’m not a buyer.” I looked down when she looked at my vendor’s badge.

  “Oh?” She didn’t sound disappointed that I wasn’t a customer, even though it didn’t look as if her booth was busy.

  “I’m a private investigator.”

  “That’s interesting.” She sat back down on her director’s chair behind her display.

  I loved that she didn’t bother to remain standing when she realized I wasn’t a potential buyer. I imagined the nine and ten hour days of standing on your feet and selling your wares was longer than your average day.

  She tucked her short brown hair behind her ears, and I noticed she wore earrings from her own jewelry line.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard about Marina Goldstein’s death.”

  With absolutely no sympathy, she said, “Yes, I did.”

  “I work with Anthony DeLuca. I know that many people have a grudge against Marina, Anthony included.” I walked further into the booth.

  “Who?” She sounded annoyed.

  “Let me start over. I’m Mimi Capurro. Anthony was with Marina for a time. She was suing him.” I looked at the business card on her table. “And are you Jane Deever?”

  “Yes, I’m Jane, but really, I have nothing to say to you.” She dismissed me by opening a magazine and flipping through the pages.

  “Oh, that’s okay, you don’t have to talk,” I said. “I’m pretty good at doing all of the talking myself.”

  She looked up. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk, it’s that I can’t. I signed a confidentiality agreement when I settled my lawsuit with Marina.” Then she muttered, “Though the agreement didn’t seem to keep her from bad mouthing me and my business.”