“No, I don’t recognize her,” Adam answered. “The guy that’s with her though. He’s the guy who died, right?”
“He is,” Kate responded.
“Okay, what about her?” I asked, showing him a picture of Mara Murdock.
“Nope, don’t know her,” he said. “But I do know that guy.” Adam pointed to the blurry figure of Johnny tending the bar behind the in focus Mara.
“Yeah?” Kate asked.
“He’s not a regular here. I’m actually his customer. He’s my favorite bartender over at Rick’s Ice House. You know the place?”
“Yeah.” Kate nodded. “We do. Thank you for your help, Adam.”
“No problem. Let me know if you want to interview me for TV.”
“I will,” Kate assured him. Then we waltzed out of his establishment, back to the bitter cold.
“Good thinking, pulling up those photos,” Kate said to me. “I wish he gave us something to go on. Blake probably bought the nicotine online.”
“You can buy anything online these days,” I told her.
“True that,” she agreed. “I’m sure the police will be checking his credit and debit card statements.”
We made our way back to The Java Hutt, and we both got another coffee. “Are you up for happy hour with Marcus, Luke, and myself on Friday night?” Kate asked.
“As long as it isn’t at Rick’s, I’m in,” I told her jokingly.
“Great! I’ll let the boys know.” She gave me a wink before descending into her car, saying her last remark so that I couldn’t respond back. “Maybe Friday night’s kisses won't be so sweet.”
16
Today wasn’t my monthly appointment with Dr. Gilmore, so I felt a little uneasy going into the office unannounced. But really, I didn’t know any other way to contact Suzi. And Suzi was the key to finishing the article about George’s life in Lanai.
Honestly, this uneasy feeling greeted me every trip to the drab psychiatrist’s office. It usually pertained to my anxiety. However weird it may sound, I had anxiety about talking to someone about my anxiety.
The funny thing was, I was doing a lot better than my last scheduled visit. I’d been running, cooking, and writing. Anxiety wasn’t deterring me from doing what I needed to do. I’d even stepped out and went on a blind date—and then a second date. It was major progress.
I wondered what state Suzi would be in today. She hadn’t looked so good the last time I’d seen her—on the porch of the Bentley’s Estate.
With a turn of the office doorknob, I had my answer. The normally cheerful and well-kept secretary was nowhere to be found. It was a Suzi like I’d never seen before. She had bags under eyes. Her clothes were all wrinkled. Even her makeup had fallen prey to the aftermath of George’s death.
“Allie?” a weary Suzi questioned. She scrolled on computer, examining the screen like it had done something wrong. “Oh, nuts. I must’ve messed up the schedule. I don’t see you here.” She was frustrated. She banged on the edge of her keyboard, acting as if she’d done something wrong.
“No, no.” I waved her off. “I don’t have an appointment today. I came to see you.”
“Oh.” She sighed. “That’s good news.”
The office was empty except for the two of us, me, in the waiting area, and Suzi behind the enclosed office area. The solid door to Dr. Gilmore’s office was closed. If I’d timed it right, as I thought I had, he would be with a patient for the next forty-five minutes.
“Suzi,” I started, “how are you holding up?”
“I’m trying,” she said softly. Then she grabbed a tissue from the box beside her and began to dab at her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just seeing you here brought me back to that night.”
“I understand. Can I come back there?”
She hit a black button on the wall and buzzed me back. I got to her as quickly as I could and gave her the type of hug I reserved for family. She cried on my shoulder a minute.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” she told me. “I’d never seen him so happy. Well, not since Mindy’s death. But that was years and years ago. He said he was almost ready to date again.”
“I see,” I said.
“It was silly of me, I know, but I was hoping he meant to date me.”
“That’s not silly,” I said. “He would’ve been lucky to date you.”
“That’s nice of you to say, Allie. But George could’ve had anybody. He was so handsome and kind.”
“He was,” I assured her.
“So, really, you just came to see how I was doing?”
“Yeah,” I faltered. “Sort of. Kinsey asked me to write something for the Gazette about George. I thought you’d be the person to ask.”
“That’s nice.” Suzi nodded. “I’d love to help. After all those police questions and the reports about his murder, something more about his life will do us all some good.”
“I agree.”
Suzi took a deep breath. “What do you want to know?”
“For starters,” I said, “does he have any other family besides Blake? Another son or daughter? How long ago did his wife pass?”
“No. Blake is it. Mindy died about ten years ago. Before he bought the Bentley’s Estate. He was an only child. The closest thing to family is a cousin in the area… and me. They weren’t really close, his cousin, that is. That’s why I’ve been helping make the funeral arrangements.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.” There went my hope of finding family members to interview for the paper. “Do you need help with it?”
“No,” she said, “not with the funeral. Not really. He had everything in order.” There was something she was holding back. “It’s nothing you can help with. It’s just Blake.”
“What about Blake?”
“They won’t let him out. They won’t let him attend his own father’s funeral. I want to help him make bail. Find him a good lawyer. Allie, there’s just no way that he did it.”
“You’re sure?” I pressed.
“I’m sure. I’ve known him since he was little. There’s just no way he did it.”
I felt guilty for even thinking Suzi had something to do with George’s death. And even guiltier now that I wasn’t fully convinced, like she was, that George’s son wasn’t the murderer.
“I have a friend,” I told her. “He’s a detective. I can maybe ask him if there’s anything we could do to help Blake. But I don’t know if he can release Blake for the funeral.”
“Would you?” Suzi asked. She squeezed my hand, “I’d really appreciate it. Even if we can just talk to him. Do you think you could help make that happen?”
“I can try.”
She squeezed my hand even tighter. “You really are a dear.”
“Thanks. Oh, and Suzi?” Her eyes widened, indicating I could ask my question. “Do you know anyone who could give me some quotes about George?”
“You could try the track club,” she offered.
“Good idea,” I said. Then I looked at the clock and remembered what day it was—Wednesday. If I hurried, I could meet them for their afternoon jog. I rushed home and changed into my running gear. I made it to the parking lot of Sure Foot Shoes with three minutes to spare.
17
The next morning, I limped into The Java Hutt. Not only had the run been longer than I anticipated, but the variations of pace had put my legs into some form of septic shock.
I had come away with enough quotes about George to fill a page of newspaper. Several pages. And there were also several runners who encouraged me to meet them for next week’s run. That felt good to my runner’s ego.
Just not my legs, I thought, grimacing as I massaged down my thigh.
“What are you doing?” a deep, velvety voice asked. I hadn’t even noticed Javier a spot ahead of me in line. But there he was—with a smirk on his face.
“I ran yesterday,” I told him. “My thighs are all cramped up.”
“I hate that,” he said. “But then again, the most I
’ve run is a 10K so far.”
“You run?” I asked him.
“Yeah, it’s this new thing I’m into called trying to stay in shape. You heard of it?”
“I think I’ve heard of that one. But you should really try a half marathon. It really pushes you.”
“Only if you’d train with me.” He smiled.
“I’d consider it,” I told him.
We put in our orders, then grabbed a table, waiting for our drinks to be made. Javier’s drink was simple, a nonfat latte. He really is trying to stay in shape, I thought snidely after he ordered.
The new girl, Tenley, called out our orders together, and Javier got them for the two of us. He sat down again, getting himself comfortable in the cushioned seat.
“So, where’s your gal pal?” he asked about Kate.
“Probably working.” I unzipped my travel bag and found my laptop, setting it down on the table. “Which is also what I have to do.”
“Me, three,” Javier said with a smile.
“Can I ask you a favor?” He gave me a skeptical part of his dark eyebrows but nodded for me to go on. “My friend Suzi wants to visit Blake. I don’t think she knows how to make that happen. I mean, what she really wants is for him to be able to attend George’s funeral.”
“I doubt I could make that happen,” Javier said honestly. “But getting her on the visitor’s list shouldn’t be a problem.”
“If I take her, can you add me too?”
“Sure.” He bit his lip. “Are you still investigating?”
“Not really.” At this point, I wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not.
Javier put his elbow on the table, scooting closer toward me. “Because if you are, I’d tell you this: Besides the evidence, I don’t see why Blake’s in our custody. I don’t see a motive. If anything, Blake seems to have it out for this Mara lady. He says she’s been trying to steal his father’s business for years. They had a bit of a confrontation before the party the other night.”
“They did,” I acknowledged. “I witnessed the tail-end of it.”
“Anyway,” Javier yawned, “I’d better be off. I’ll let you know when I get you on the list. The visiting hours are a pretty narrow window, so it might be a day or two before you can see him.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Oh, it’s not a problem. I’d do anything for my running partner. I’ll start looking for half-marathons to sign up for tonight.”
I smiled broadly—too broadly—and watched him go.
It was Friday when Javier got everything set up for the two of us to go visit Blake. Luckily, the therapist’s office worked a half day on Fridays, so when I called, Suzi agreed to meet me out front at noon.
She was waiting by the curb when I pulled up. “Dr. Gilmore says hi. And that he’s looking forward to your next visit.”
“That sounds ominous. He probably thinks I’m butting into the police investigation like I did with Jessica Hayes.”
“Oh, well, I wouldn’t know about that,” Suzi told me reassuringly. “I think he appreciates you taking the time to help me through this. He’s been offering me free counseling all week.”
“Have you taken him up on it? He’s really good.”
“I know he is. It’s just weird, him being my boss and all.” Suzi adjusted the seatbelt over her coat. It was a gloomy winter’s day.
This kind of weather would usually make me want to stay at home and bundle up in blankets with Mister Netflix. But I’d spend the better part of the afternoon working on the article about George. I’d fired the finished draft off to Kinsey before leaving to pick Suzi up.
“Do you think Blake will even see us?” she asked. She looked troubled. “I tried to go twice before, but they wouldn’t let me through the gate. I wasn’t on that list your friend helped us with. And Blake has a list of his own—I wasn’t on it.”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to see a familiar face,” I said, completely unsure if it was the truth. Honestly, I wondered how this conversation would go. Would he respond well to me being there? I wasn’t sure. I’d be a stranger, an outsider, to him. But my own curiosity kept my foot on the accelerator.
We pulled up to a booth outside the parking lot. Security check one for the day. Both Suzi and I presented our driver’s licenses.
“What’s your purpose for visiting today?” the guard asked.
“We’re here to see Blake Wilson, sir,” I said meekly.
He scribbled something down on a clipboard and handed our licenses back to me. “Follow the signs to the front entrance,” he said. Then he handed me a piece of paper from the back of the pad. “Here’s a list of prohibited items. Don’t have any of these on you when you go through security inside the building. Abide by anything a guard tells you and any and all posted placards.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The gate opened slowly to a parking lot half full. We both studied the list and made sure not to have any contraband, but there wasn’t anything on that list I’d ever have on my person—aside from food.
The second security check included another identification check. We were patted down, and we entered in through a metal detector.
“Third time’s the charm,” she whispered. Hopefully, this would be her third and final time here. If Blake was innocent, I wanted him out. If he wasn’t, well, I couldn’t see Suzi ever coming here again.
Once into the waiting area, aptly enough, we waited. I tried not to make eye contact with any of the people I saw here, afraid that my eyes would betray me. I didn’t want to pass judgement. They were just people who had loved ones who’d found themselves in bad situations.
“Suzanne Whelan and Allison Treadwell.” A guard waited for us at a door, like he was a nurse at a doctor’s office. He directed us through a hallway and to the room where we’d meet with Blake. The room was dark and dank. The floors needed to be swept. There was a table and chairs with no cushions. It was not an inviting set up.
“Remember, when the inmate enters,” the guard said, “touches must be brief. Don't make any loud noises, or sudden movements. Enjoy your visit, ladies.”
A few minutes later, Blake Wilson was escorted into our room. He resembled the lively guy from Bentley’s Estate in appearance only. His eyes were surrounded by heavy bags. His shoulders slumped.
A brief hint of a smile tinged his lips when he saw Suzi, although seeing me there with her seemed to puzzle him.
“Miss Suz,” he said, cutting off her already shortened nickname, “what are you doing here?” He offered her a hug—one she obliged.
“I’m here to see you. Obviously.”
“No, I know,” he said. “I just didn’t think you’d want to see me. Not after—”
“It’s all right,” Suzi declared. “I don’t believe any of it. Not a word.”
Suzi’s kind tone brightened Blake’s mood considerably. “Who is this?” he said, acknowledging me for the first real time. “I’ve already got an appointed lawyer. I like him all right.”
Part of me was proud—I’d presented myself well enough to look like a lawyer. I’d have to leave my comfy jeans and old sweatshirts at home more often.
“She’s not a lawyer,” Suzi told him. “This is Allison Treadwell. She’s a friend. She wants to help.”
“She’s not a lawyer, but she wants to help.” Blake pursed his lips quizzically.
“For a start,” Suzi said in my defense, “she helped me get in here today.”
“That’s a pretty good start,” Blake admitted. “So, how can you help?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure just yet,” I told them both. “Like Suzi, I believe you might be innocent. I was at the party. I saw you and Mara beforehand.”
“That bi—”
“There’s no need for that language,” Suzi interrupted.
I straightened my drooping posture, getting their attention back. “I guess I could ask you a few questions. Then we can go from there.”
He wasn’t convinced I could
help. If I were in his position, I’d be just wary. But answering my questions wouldn’t hurt anything. Blake shrugged in a non-apologetic way. “Sure,” he answered.
“Okay,” I said slowly, racking my brain for a decent opening question. “Let’s start with the evidence. How did they find the nicotine in your car? Do you vape or whatever it’s called?”
“Hell no,” Blake said adamantly. “My mom died of lung cancer, for God’s sake. That’s the sickest thing about this. I don’t know how that got into my car. But it wasn’t mine. I don’t even know where in the car they found it. They wouldn’t say.”
“Your mom died of cancer?” I asked him. This was news to me. Suzi hadn’t told me how George’s wife had died.
“Secondhand smoke. My grandfather smoked in the house when she was a kid. My dad smoked. Well, he did until she was diagnosed. That’s when he started running.”
Suzi nodded along. She knew this story.
“That’s terrible.” I was utterly shocked. It did seem a strange thing for a son to kill his father after an ordeal like that. “Were you on good terms with your dad after that?”
“That’s the same thing the cops asked. They liked to think I would blame him for my mom’s death. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. We both took her death hard, but we got closer after that. I never blamed him.”
“Okay. Do you think someone planted the nicotine in your car?”
“Obviously,” Blake scoffed. “But I drive a Honda Civic. Anyone with an ice pick could break into that thing. Half the time, I leave it unlocked.”
“Right,” I said, remembering his car in the parking lot of Bentley’s. It was even there on the day he was arrested. My heart started to beat faster.
“What happened the night of the party?” I asked him. “Why were you fighting with Mara?”
“It’s stupid,” he admitted. “I was actually trying to protect Dad. I overheard him on the phone with her. He said she was jeopardizing the business. I got a bit offensive, ya know, cause it’s part mine. Neither of ‘em would tell me what was going on though.”
“Did you leave after that?”
A Choice Cocktail of Death (A Foodie Files Mystery Book 2) Page 8