Murder at the Bomb Shelter

by Lee Strauss

  “If I can’t get somewhere by boat or by train, I don’t go. This baby has twin 440 gas-powered inboard engines. Plenty of zip.” He pointed to the floor. “The decks are teakwood!”

  “How far can you go on a vessel like this?” Rosa asked.

  “I suppose you could go anywhere. I have a place in Baja, Mexico, that I like to visit, and from there I could go down to South America if I wanted. A person could sail around the world if he carried enough fuel on board to get him across the big seas. Maybe I’ll do that someday. Out of all the Gainers, I suppose I am the only one with a truly adventurous spirit. Always looking over the horizon, always searching for kingdoms to conquer. That’s why the boat is named Conqueror.”

  Sidney looked out at the horizon as if hearing the call of untamed lands in the distance that were waiting to welcome him as a victorious king.

  Rosa had to avoid laughing at such ostentatiousness. This man was in love with himself, which reminded her of Debbie Romano.

  “What does your future wife think about such adventures?”

  Sidney Gainer shrugged. “We haven’t talked about it. If she doesn’t want to join me, she doesn’t have to.”

  “Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t sound like a man in love.”

  Sidney scoffed. “This is a marriage of convenience. Why do you think I’m getting married to my cousin?”

  “I wouldn’t know. It’s why I’m asking.”

  Sidney was an attractive man in his early-thirties, and Rosa was certain there would be a lineup of ladies ready to sign on to the luxurious life that would belong to Mrs. Sidney Gainer.

  Unless, of course, Mr. Sidney Gainer wasn’t interested in women?

  Not Rosa’s business.

  Sidney crossed his legs and removed his sunglasses. Staring at Rosa, he said, “You didn’t come here to talk about boats nor my engagement. And yes, I know Grandpa said we are to cooperate, so ask away.”

  “A boat like this must cost a lot of money,” Rosa said. “What type of business are you engaged in?”

  “Well, you’re direct, aren’t you?”

  “I get the feeling you are in a hurry to be off, so I thought I should get to the heart of the matter.”

  “I’m a real estate speculator, like my grandfather, I or I should say we—Grandpa is not quite retired—have projects here in the USA and Asia.”

  “What about your cousin Colin?” Rosa purposefully left the question open-ended.

  “Colin’s a hothead. Always getting into trouble, always trying to prove himself in one way or another. And when it comes to business, he just doesn’t have the mind for it. Takes after Uncle Frank in that respect. Against my better judgment, I tried to help him with his import company, but he just simply doesn’t have the patience or the people skills.”

  “I saw his hot rod,” Rosa said. “Where does he get the money for an expensive vehicle if he’s not in the real estate game like you and some of the others?”

  “His mother, my Aunt Alice, feels sorry for him. He’s also got a trust fund. All the grandkids do.”

  “What was your relationship like with Dieter Braun?”

  “You mean, did I kill Uncle Dieter?”

  “Okay, if you like. What were you doing last Tuesday evening?”

  “I was at Grandpa’s place. Debbie was with me, as well. We were watching television together as we often do on Tuesday nights.”

  Rosa sighed. That alibi would take some work to unravel if it was false.

  “What did you watch?”

  “A couple of shows, but the main event is always Name That Tune. A gal won forty clams for “Goodnight Irene”. Anyways, I went to bed around ten. So, to answer your question, my relationship with Uncle Dieter was strained like it was with him and almost the whole family. He was an odd duck and never did fit in with the clan.”

  Rose pursed her lips in thought. Did any member of this family actually feel like they fitted in?

  14

  Frank and Alice Monahan lived in an upper-middle-class neighborhood in the north end. The street was the perfect picture of the typical American dream as Rosa had heard someone call it. The sun hung low on the horizon, and as she turned the Corvette onto the boulevard, she saw several children playing hopscotch on the smoothly paved road. Two men mowed their lawns, and another man played catch with a little boy in his front yard. As she drove by, the man took off his cap with one hand and pointed at the passing Corvette with the other. She heard him call to the boy, “See that, Thomas? That’s my next car.”

  Diego poked his head out of the satchel. He was used to riding in the car with the top down now, and instead of burrowing deep inside the tapestry bag, he would stick his entire head out and sniff the air as they breezed along the road, that was if he hadn’t struck his sunbathing pose on the dashboard. His young kitten awkwardness was fading, and he was growing quickly. With his new agility, he was even bolder at the Forrester mansion. Rosa brought him with her as often as she could to keep the peace with her Aunt Louisa, who had a rather tense relationship with Diego ever since he had damaged a panel of unique drapery, coughed up a hairball on an expensive rug, and scratched the teak trim of the sofa.

  As a result, Rosa thought Diego needed some instruction, and after reading in a magazine about such a thing as cat training, she’d asked Gloria to search for a cat training school. Deputy Diego, as Miguel called him, was very smart for a cat, and usually well mannered, but it was as if he sensed Aunt Louisa’s animosity and was determined to exploit it. The affair would be quite funny if Aunt Louisa weren’t so testy. The whole house suffered when she got into one of her moods. Perhaps a professional could help Deputy Diego.

  Rosa spied the house number on a row of impressive-looking homes, each with the address colorfully painted on a Spanish tile beside the front door. She pushed Diego back deeper into her satchel, wrapped the strap over her shoulder, and walked up the paved walkway. The doorbell resounded with a melodious chime.

  After a moment, Frank Monahan answered the door. He stared down at her with his bored expression. “I’m sorry, but Alice isn’t at home right now.”

  “Actually, it’s you I’d like to see if you’d be kind enough to give me a bit of your time.”

  Mr. Monahan worked his lips. “I’ve got a taxi on order. Catching a flight to L.A. soon for business, but come on in. I’ve got the orders from the top that I must speak to you if asked.”

  Guiding Rosa through a tastefully decorated living room, Mr. Monahan led her through a set of sliding glass doors to a spacious wooden patio in a backyard outfitted with comfortable chairs positioned around a frosted-glass patio table. The yard was fenced in by a six-foot-high painted, wooden fence and the lawn was neatly trimmed.

  “Please have a seat,” Mr. Monahan said. Just then, Diego poked his head out of the satchel. “Holy moly! What’s that?”

  “I’m so sorry. He won’t be a bother. Well, I’m training him not to be, in any case. Is it all right? If not, I can lock him in my car.”

  Diego let out a soft mew in protest.

  Mr. Monahan chuckled. “It’s okay with me. Let him roam the yard if you like.”

  “Fabulous!” Rosa took her host’s advice and lifted Diego out of the bag and onto the lawn. He sniffed around him and mewed a couple of times until a rogue butterfly caught his attention. He was off and running.

  “Now, what is it that you wanted to see me about?” Mr. Monahan asked.

  “Mr. Monahan, I hate to have to mention this, but it’s come to my attention that your wife and Mr. Braun may have been…involved.”

  Mr. Monahan’s face flushed an unflattering red. He reached for a package of cigarettes sitting on an end table, removed one, and lit it with a match from a small box beside them. After a long inhale and a slow release of smoke, he said, “My wife became emotionally vulnerable when her sister died. Cancer. Lillian went quickly. The whole family was in shock.”

  After another drag, he continued, “She and Dieter shared g
rief that I didn’t experience. I couldn’t give her the comfort she needed.”

  “And Mr. Braun did?” Rosa said gently.

  “Apparently. I caught them sneaking around. I should’ve left her then.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Frank Monahan dropped ashes into the ashtray. “Despite everything, I still love my wife. And if we’re honest here, ole man Gainer could make my life very difficult if I crossed him.”

  Rosa considered his statement. “Where were you last Tuesday evening?”

  Frank smiled like he finally had one on her. “I play tennis every Monday and Tuesday night down at the Santa Bonita Tennis club. I played all night both nights.”

  It was an alibi easily checked, which made for a nice change.

  “Who do you think killed Dieter Braun?” Rosa asked.

  “Oh, I know this one,” Frank said cheekily. “Definitely Walter Gainer.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Dieter discovered that Walter was involved in a fire insurance scam at a small tenement building under construction in the Schofield district. Walter had invested heavily in it. A little birdie told me that he was involved in starting a fire. Not personally, of course, but he had a hand in it. He then tried to cash in on the insurance.”

  Rosa controlled her expression at the shock she felt at Mr. Monahan’s accusation. “Arson is a serious crime.”

  “Hey, if the old man thought it was okay to overturn a few rocks, he can’t dictate which ones, right?” A wry grin. “Personally, I think it’s time a Gainer went to prison.”

  Rosa was beginning to think Frank Monahan might just get his way.

  “You’re saying that Mr. Braun found out about Walter Gainer’s illegal activities and then blackmailed him?”

  “Blackmail is such a dirty word, Miss Reed.” Mr. Monahan chortled. “I didn’t like Braun, but we were both hitched to the “outsiders” position on the same powerful horse, and that put us on the same side of the game board. I think he relished the thought of having a Gainer over a barrel and was enjoying the fear tactics. Dieter could be vindictive when he wanted to be, all right.”

  Rosa wrote furiously in her notebook, and then her heart jumped. She’d forgotten about Diego. Where was the little guy? Her eyes scanned the lawn, over and under the patio furniture.

  “Looking for your cat?” Mr. Monahan said. He pointed, and Rosa followed his gaze.

  Diego nonchalantly sunned himself on the top wooden support beam of the fence, licking his paws and washing his face.

  Rosa erased the smile that had crept onto her face and returned to the seriousness the matter demanded. “How do you think Dieter found out about the fraud?”

  “He told me that Walter Gainer didn’t realize that Dieter was part of the group of companies that administered the fire insurance for the building. So, when the fire happened, it was Dieter’s fire insurance detective that investigated and found it to be arson. It was easy to put two and two together, but instead of going to the police with it, Dieter kept it secret, wanting to use it as a tool of leverage.”

  “The police still don’t know about the arson?”

  “Nobody does except for me, Walter, the insurance detective, and now… you.”

  15

  The office of Braun Insurance was only a few blocks away from Rosa’s detective office, and she parked her Corvette in her reserved parking spot next to her building. There was always the chance that Dieter Braun’s killer was not part of the Gainer clan, and if that were the case, perhaps a starting point would be at Braun Insurance. If the investigation would eventually take her in that direction, she was more than willing to let the police go after the killer. Her commitment to Orville Gainer ended once the trail left the family.

  The receptionist was a pleasing lady with blue eyes tinged with somberness, perhaps due to the recent death of her boss. She wore her brown hair at shoulder length with curls around her ears. The nameplate on her desk read, Jennifer Schmidt.

  “Hello, I am Rosa Reed. I called earlier to meet with Mr. Tamblyn.”

  “Oh yes,” Miss Schmidt said. “Please have a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  Rosa detected a slight German accent and wondered when the receptionist had immigrated to America. Perhaps she was even a relative of Dieter Braun’s.

  A minute later, a middle-aged man dressed in a white, long-sleeved shirt, a black tie, and slacks came to greet her. His skin tone was coffee and cream, but his thick curly hair was a mix of black and gray.

  The man extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Richard Tamblyn. I understand you wanted to talk to me?”

  Rosa stood to shake his hand. “If you don’t mind.”

  Mr. Tamblyn led Rosa into a sparsely furnished office. She sat down on a wooden chair as he gestured towards it.

  “I’ve been engaged by the Gainer family to investigate the death of your now deceased employer, Mr. Braun.” Rosa got straight to the point.

  He looked a little bit surprised. “Oh? Well now, that is interesting. Do they suspect foul play?”

  “I can’t really say at this point.”

  “I will take that as a yes. I know I have an appointment later in the day today with a Detective Belmonte, though they also want to speak to the office manager Mr. Jennings. You seem to be following a different trail.”

  Rosa suspected that it would take Detective Belmonte a while longer to track down the lead about the arson. Any information like that would not be forthcoming to him from the Gainers.

  “I wanted to ask you about a particular arson investigation.”

  “Aha. You mean the one involving Walter Gainer.”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “Mr. Gainer bought fire insurance for a new development out in Schofield. Sounds to me from your accent you’re not from around here so you might not be familiar with the area. It’s a small town about ten miles northwest of Santa Bonita. We like to call it North Santa Bonita though the residents there would object to that. Walter Gainer bought the insurance through a subsidiary company of Dieter Braun’s, ironically called Firesafe Insurance Company. That company is operated out of an office in Ventura, California. I’m the main investigator for all fire damage claims for that company and several others, including those managed or owned or co-owned by Dieter Braun. Is that why you asked to see me?”

  Rosa nodded. “It is.”

  “Mr. Braun had his fingers in a lot more of the insurance pie than most people realized. Even Walter Gainer didn’t understand that Dieter Braun was involved in Firesafe Insurance.”

  “In your opinion, the fire in Schofield was arson. Is that correct?”

  Mr. Tamblyn’s eyebrows raised in appreciation. “You’ve been doing some digging, Miss Reed. That’s not common knowledge.”

  Rosa remained silent, and when the insurance detective saw she wasn’t going to reveal her source, he went on. “Usual policy covers gas leaks, structural defects, and so on. However, the fire was most definitely arson. I’ve got evidence to prove it.”

  “Thereby nullifying the insurance policy,” Rosa said.

  “Most likely, though, that part’s not up to me. I just investigate the fire itself and stay out of the handling of the claim. Someone else makes the final decisions. I can confirm that someone tried to make it look like a gas leak started the fire. I could go into more details but…”

  “No need,” Rosa said. She understood his need for confidentiality. She was pleased by what he’d already revealed so far. “What did Mr. Braun do when you showed him your results?”

  “He told me to speak to no one. Walter Gainer was his brother-in-law, and he wanted to handle it in-house. That’s the last I heard about it.” Mr. Tamblyn tapped his pencil on the table. “How well do you know the Gainer family?”

  “Just getting to know them. Why do you ask?”

  “Orville Gainer is a nasty piece of work, and so are some of his offspring. I wouldn’t say this to anyone else, but you seem like a nice l
ady. I hope you’ll be careful. Do you carry a piece?”

  The warning stunned her. “A piece?”

  “From one detective to another, let me give you some advice.” He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a leather shoulder harness with a holster that held a revolver. He pulled out the weapon and put it on the table. “I don’t know what they use in England, but here in America, most PIs carry a gun, especially when dealing with shady folks…like the Gainers.”

  He handled the revolver with fondness as if it were a much-loved baby. “This is my Smith and Wesson .38 Special. The same one the police use. You can order it through the mail.”

  Rosa stared at Mr. Tamblyn as her mind raced. What had she gotten herself into this time?

  Despite Orville Gainer’s edict to his family to cooperate with Rosa, Walter Gainer had refused to adjust his schedule to meet her. If she wanted to talk, she’d have to follow him around the “International Trap Range”, which she was happy to do. Having arrived at the shooting range, she made her way toward the figure of Walter Gainer.

  Since the first time Rosa had met the eldest Gainer brother, she’d thought he closely resembled his father, but up close the similarities were striking. They shared the same slim build, a firm, square jaw, and an erect posture that suggested a military bearing. Walter’s hair, slicked straight back, was styled similarly to Orville Gainer’s, although his had not yet turned gray. Today, it was partially covered with a Los Angeles Angels baseball cap. His blue eyes were not as intense as his father’s, but when he regarded Rosa, they showed mistrust and irritation.

  With only a nod of acknowledgment, he lifted his shotgun and shouted, “Pull!”

  A flat, dish-shaped object was catapulted into the air by a fellow operating a small machine. Following the arc of the object for a moment, Walter Gainer fired, which shattered the object into pieces. Rosa opened her mouth to greet him, but he pumped the gun and once again yelled, “Pull!” Another disk was released, but this time the shot missed, and the disk fell to the ground untouched. Walter Gainer cursed under his breath.