Murder and Mozzarella

by Carole Fowkes

  One of my eyebrows rose. “A client? Who?”

  Shooing me out, she said, “Go. Talk to Ed. I’ve got cupcakes to frost.” She waved the spatula in her hand and drops of frosting flew, one hitting me on my lip.

  I licked the sweet cherry cream off and headed into the dining area where Ed, his wiry frame wrapped in a white apron with a cupcake on the front, was sliding a piece of cake into a box for a waiting customer. “Be with you in a sec, Claire.”

  I had to smile. When I’d first met Ed I never imagined seeing the tough guy in a cupcake apron dishing out pastries. He must really love my aunt!

  The customer paid Ed and clutched the box as if it were a treasure chest. Once she left the counter, he turned to me. “The witness’ name is Bradley Wallace. He was taking his trash out when he saw the client leaving Parker’s apartment. Claims she was frantic and,” he made air quotes, “disheveled.”

  I waited for Ed to take care of two more customers. Once he finished, he concluded with, “I think you should go talk with the guy yourself. There’s something phony there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “He sounded drunk. Or something. Maybe he sees pink elephants too.”

  Jotting down Bradley’s address, I thanked him. “I’ll head over there after I talk to Aunt Lena.”

  Ed’s face twitched. “Yeah, that case she wants you to take. It’s a doozy.”

  Why am I not surprised? I took a deep breath. “No case is too small…” I headed back into the kitchen.

  Aunt Lena was pulling a huge baking sheet full of cookies from the oven. “Good. You’re back.” She set the sheet on the wire rack to cool. “Here’s the case. If you take it, and I told Mary Pantano you would, she’ll be in to see you this afternoon. But you should call her first.”

  My foot began to tap. For the sake of my fledgling PI firm I’d have to take this case, but I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

  “Anyway, Mary’s crazy father, Sal, didn’t trust banks. So he buried his money in the Metroparks. Well, probably just Rocky River Reservation. Then he up and died last month. The funeral was really fancy. Hardly anyone there, but the flowers! So now, nobody knows where on the property he buried the money or how much there is. But Mary figures it’s about $250,000. She wants to hire you to find it.” My aunt slid a warm cookie from the tray on to a plate and handed it to me.

  I broke off a piece of the gooey goodness. “Okay, I’ll take the case, but I’ve got another client whose situation takes priority.”

  “Fine, but don’t tell Mary that.” She paused. “Remember. She’s coming down to your office this afternoon after she gets off work. Call her so she knows you’re interested.”

  Shoveling the rest of the cookie into my mouth, I mumbled, “Then I better get a move on.” My first stop was to see Bradley Wallace, the witness. After that, Trish.

  I didn’t get far, though. The guard at Wallace’s posh apartment building remembered me and greeted me as if we were old partners. “Hey, what’s up with the case? Cops have been going in and out so often it’s like a police station here.”

  I pled ignorance of anything other than what the public already knew about the murder.

  Clearly disappointed, the guard buzzed me through and I headed to the witness’ apartment.

  When I knocked, the door opened and there was Harold Goldfarb. I should have known.

  “Claire! How nice to see you again.” Harold turned to the witness. “This is Claire DeNardo, Private Investigator extraordinaire. I’m sure she has some questions she’d like to ask you.”

  Swallowing my irritation and wondering if Harold should even be here questioning this witness, I offered my hand to Wallace, who ignored it and responded only with a glare from his bloodshot eyes.

  I cleared my throat and lowered my hand. “As Mr. Goldfarb said, I’m a PI working on obtaining justice for Parker Vanderson. I’m just wondering if I might ask you a few questions.”

  Harold leaned against a wall. “I was just about to head out, but if neither of you mind, I’d like to stay. Maybe even learn something.”

  Wallace stepped back further into his apartment and nearly tripped over an empty pizza box. The guy’s apartment was only slightly neater than Dorothy’s post-tornado Kansas farmhouse. He righted himself and ran his fingers through his desperately-needing-a-wash hair. “Look, I told the cops everything I know.” He addressed Harold. “And then I repeated it to you.”

  When he realized I was staring at his trembling hands, he hid them in his armpits. “There’s nothing left to say. So both of you should go.”

  Neither Harold nor I moved.

  Wallace opened the door. “Now.”

  Harold escorted me out of the apartment with gentlemanly grace. Once we were inside the elevator, he voiced what I’d been thinking. “That guy is addicted to either drugs or alcohol. Perhaps both.”

  “So maybe not such a reliable witness.” I guessed that was the reason Trish hadn’t been arrested until the police found the bloody snow globe. “What was Trish’s story about the murder weapon?”

  “As a good PI you’ll of course talk with her, but she’ll tell you what she told me. Ms. Vanderson gave the snow globe to her stepbrother.”

  There had to be more to that story, but I decided it’d be best to get it straight from Trish, without a wily lawyer’s slant. After politely extricating myself from Harold’s company, I took my leave and headed for Collin’s place.

  I just hoped I could speak to Trish alone.

  During the long trek to Chagrin Falls, a suburb southeast of Cleveland, I organized my questions for Trish. My plan fell apart when I arrived at Collin’s home, a surprisingly modest abode, and found Trish was asleep. He refused to even let me enter his house. “She’s been through hell and she needs some rest. I’m making sure she gets it.”

  My feet planted firmly, I used my most authoritative voice. “My job is to find out who really killed Parker so Trish can sleep peacefully from now on. To do that, I have to talk to her. Right away.”

  For a moment, Collin and I had a staring contest. To my amazement, I won. He stomped off to fetch Trish, swearing under his breath.

  After almost five minutes, she still hadn’t appeared. I sprinted to what I believed was the bedroom door and pounded on it.

  Collin, inside the bedroom, opened the door and swept his arm toward Trish. “You can see she’s in no condition to talk to anybody.”

  Straining my neck to get a look at Trish I saw the formerly vibrant woman now as pale as the white silk pillow upon which she was propped.

  I took a step back ready to admit a temporary defeat, when Trish spoke up. Her voice sounded like a dry piece of leather cracking.

  “Please. Stay. We need to talk.”

  With an exaggerated bow, Collin stepped aside. He snarled, “Don’t wear out what little welcome you have.”

  “Collin, give us a few minutes, please.” Trish’s voice turned forceful. She’d clearly shaken off any drowsiness.

  Muttering under his breath, he stomped outside and shut the door firmly.

  Trish motioned toward a nearby chair and waited for me to sit. Then, “I visited Parker the night he was killed.” Her heavy-lashed eyes met mine. “But he was alive when I left.”

  I didn’t move a muscle. “What time was that?”

  “After five, I think.” She waved her hand. “We argued and I, I walked out.” Tears filled her eyes and her voice quivered. “I should have stayed. He’d be alive now.”

  My eyes moistened with sympathy tears that I fought back. “No! You might have been killed too.” I waited a second for her to compose herself. “Why did you sneak out to see him at that hour? Why not wait until later that day?”

  She took in a deep breath. “He called just after Collin and I landed, claiming he needed to talk to me. He insisted I not let anyone know, especially Collin.” She took a deep, troubled breath. “I had jetlag and couldn’t sleep and Parker’s always been a night owl, so I d
ecided to go see him.”

  I leaned forward. “Was the information he had about Collin?”

  She hung her head and nodded.

  Was he cheating on her?

  “What was it?”

  Her voice so low I had to lean in she said, “My stepfather was having an affair and that Collin knew all about it and was also sleeping with the same woman. He also inferred that there were some other intrigues involving my stepfather, but I’d heard enough of his lies.” She took a breath.

  “I can believe anything about my stepfather.” She raised her head and jutted her chin. “But…my stepbrother rarely told the truth. Especially if a lie could destroy any happiness those close to him had. That’s why he said what he did about Collin.”

  When I didn’t respond, she added, “Look, I know Collin loves me. He’d never be involved in what Parker claimed. Do you think if I believed Parker for one second I’d be here?”

  I realized I’d been squeezing my hands together so tightly my knuckles were white. I flattened them in my lap. Trish hadn’t struck me as the type who’d be a rug under any man’s feet. “I supposed not.” I took a breath. “Did Parker give you the woman’s name?”

  Her upper lip curled in disgust. “Jennifer Nelson.”

  “Did he say anything about why he was telling you this?”

  “He claimed it was for my own good. The truth was he wanted money. Probably for drugs.” She gave a short bitter laugh. “He thought I’d pay him to keep the affair from my mother.”

  “What happened after you heard the news?”

  “I called him a liar. I was so angry I grabbed the closest thing to me; that damned globe. You know, I’d bought that for him last year after we went to Chicago. The only time we did anything as a family.” She closed her eyes and sunk back into her pillow. “I actually wanted to strike him with it. Until he began to cry.” Her voice softened. “A spoiled, scared, desperate little boy.” She sighed. “I realized no matter how angry he made me, I couldn’t hurt him. He may have been my stepbrother, but I loved him!” She looked down at her hands. “Anyway, I pulled out all the money I had in my pocket, threw it at him and stormed out. I needed time to cool off before I returned home to Collin so I waited for about an hour and then went home.”

  Almost to herself, she added, “I didn’t even wait to see what he’d do next.”

  She half-rose from the bed. “You have to believe me. He was alive then. I swear it.”

  Very convincing, but there was one fact that couldn’t be disputed. “Your prints were on the murder weapon.”

  Whether Collin was listening through the door or not, he was quick to fling it open. “I think it’s time you left, Ms. DeNardo.”

  “Trish, if you think of anything else, please let me know. And thank you. I’ll be in touch with your mother.”

  Trish sunk back onto her pillow, as if the life energy had been sucked from her. I squeezed her hand and followed Collin from the room.

  As soon as we were on the other side of the closed bedroom door, I asked if he knew what Trish and Parker had argued about.

  He crossed his arms over his sculpted chest. “Yeah. I heard. Listen, Parker never told the truth in his life, including this time.” He practically spat his next words. “John Vanderson’s a dog. I’d never share a woman with him. Besides, I’m in love with Trish. We were going to announce our engagement before all this happened.”

  He escorted me to the front door, but I wasn’t ready to leave. “Who is Jennifer Nelson?”

  Through gritted teeth, he responded. “I’ve known Jennifer a long time, but we’ve never slept together. That’s all you need to know. Now, if you’ll just leave…” He practically shoved me out the door.

  Of course. I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of true love.

  Leaving wasn’t a problem. I’d already gotten the information I needed, except where to locate Jennifer. That wouldn’t be hard, though. Then once I found her, we’d have a talk.

  Or so I thought. I hadn’t reckoned on running into John Vanderson right outside Collin’s home.

  Chapter Seven

  As in previous times when I’d seen him, Vanderson’s presence seemed to fill the space around him, causing me to catch my breath.

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

  My witty response, “I was going to ask you the same question,” was greeted with a condescending smile.

  “She’s my stepdaughter. I have a right to see her. Unlike you, a small-time private detective whose business will very soon disappear.”

  His threatening tone wasn’t lost on me. He wanted me off the case. Or else. But I wasn’t going anywhere. At least not yet. My instincts told me to stick around. John Vanderson believed Trish had killed his beloved son. So him being here at Collin’s house didn’t bode well for his stepdaughter.

  In a vain attempt to spare the poor girl, I stretched the truth. “She won’t talk to you. Or to anybody. Collin is making sure of that.”

  He looked down at me as if I were a speck of white lint on his black suit. Then he brushed me off.

  He strode up the porch steps and rapped on Collin’s front door. “Collin, it’s J.T.”

  J.T.?

  The spark of hope that Collin would be Trish’s savior was stomped out when, like Aladdin saying the magic words, Vanderson gained entry into the house. When I tried to follow him in, the entrance suddenly closed and I had no recourse but to pound on the now-closed door and yell for it to be opened.

  My demands continued until a burly, middle-aged man stepped out of his own home and crossed the street, tramping toward me. “Stop making all that racket, or I’ll call the police.”

  In my most official voice, I responded, “Sorry for the disturbance, sir, but I’m a private investigator working with the police and I need to get inside that house.”

  He eyed me as if I had a crowbar in my hand and a robber’s mask covering my face. “Well, we’ll just see about that.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, but didn’t start dialing. Yet.

  Moving slowly so he wouldn’t think I was drawing a weapon on him, I handed him my business card. “I don’t want to cause any trouble, but my client may be in danger. So if you want, feel free to call the police. I’ll even give you the name of the detective to notify.”

  Rather than answering, he studied my card and might have been impressed if it hadn’t had a grease spot left from chocolate frosting on it.

  Sticking my card in his pocket, he said, “Collin seems like an upright guy. Not any sort of trouble maker. We mind our own business around here. Unless someone,” he nodded at me, “comes around and makes themselves a nuisance.”

  “I understand. Still, if you see anything suspicious or unusual, would you please call me?”

  With a harrumph, he replied, “Ya know, I could call Collin right now and make sure everything’s okay.”

  “That isn’t necessary.” As if Collin would give this guy a straight answer.

  My phone ringing prevented me from trying harder to dissuade the neighbor from making that call. It was my aunt and past experience has taught me, unless I was being held at gunpoint, not to ignore her calls.

  “Claire DeNardo here.”

  My aunt huffed, “Of course it’s you! Have you called Mary Pantano yet?”

  I pressed my lips together to stop from saying anything that didn’t sound professional. After all, I still had an audience. “I’ll be in touch with the client as soon as I get back to the office.”

  My aunt wasn’t to be put off. “Okay. Don’t forget. Lord knows you need the business.”

  “I promise I’ll do it.”

  The neighbor waited until my conversation with Aunt Lena was finished. “It sounds like you’ve got other things to do. I suggest you do them.” With that he turned to leave, but gave me one last warning look.

  I headed to my car, debating whether or not to wait and confront Vanderson once he left Collin’s house, but decided it would serve no use. In
all likelihood, Vanderson would just steamroll me and my questions. I wondered if there wasn’t some element of truth to what Parker had told Trish before he died. Then, with a big sigh, I wondered if Mrs. Vanderson would be calling me soon about this most recent encounter.

  Five minutes down the road, I decided I didn’t want that conversation with Mrs. Vanderson hanging over my head. I called her myself.

  First, I reiterated what had happened, emphasizing the ease at which ‘J.T.’ was admitted into Collin’s home. While I wasn’t expecting her to applaud my actions, I wasn’t prepared for her anger.

  Her voice was ice. “I’ll deal with my husband and his activities. By your own admission you can’t protect my daughter, so at least do the job I hired you for. Find Parker’s real killer.”

  The call ended before I could offer any defense. I threw my phone onto the passenger’s seat and stepped on the gas hard. If it weren’t for the rent and my need to eat, I’d give Mrs. Vanderson a full refund and wash my hands of this case. But as soon as I thought about Charlie’s empty doggy dish, I renewed my resolve to find out who murdered Parker.

  Talking to Jennifer Nelson was my next step. Once I got back to my office I’d find out where she lived.

  On the way there, I called Mary Pantano, who was happy to hear from me. “Your aunt told me how good you are at finding things.”

  Too bad I couldn’t find a way to afford to drop the Vanderson case.

  “Well, I do my best. My aunt said you’ll be coming to my office today?”

  “Oh, I’m already here.”

  “You are? At the agency?”

  “Um hm.”

  Digging up Jennifer’s address would have to wait. I forced some enthusiasm into my voice. “Wonderful! I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

  “Take your time. When I realized you weren’t in your office, I went back to my car. I brought a book with me in case I had to wait. It’s The Voluptuous Vixen. This is Book Two. Have you read any of them? They’re really good. She solves crimes by being so sexy men can’t resist her.”

  My first reaction was to tell her the books were based on my life, but I decided to play it straight. “Can’t say that I have, but I’m glad you enjoy them. I’ll be at the office really soon.”