by Gale Deitch
“Trudie, you know we have to do this investigation systematically, just like the cops. No matter what we think about these suspects.”
The car behind us honked, and Ben realized the light had changed. He stepped on the gas and continued on.
In the back of my mind, I knew Daniel would have a fit if he knew I was making a visit to any of the possible suspects, especially with Ben Knight, also a suspect. But the thought of following up on the observations I’d made in my suspect book thrilled me. More than that, conducting an investigation with my favorite mystery writer promised to be an amazing adventure. “All right,” I said. “How are we going to approach this? What exactly are we going to ask him? ‘Did you kill your wife?’”
“Let me take the lead.”
Albert Burger seemed pleased to see us, opened the door wide and invited us in. He gestured toward the living room. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”
“No thanks. Just had some,” Ben said. “Trudie and I were in the neighborhood and decided to drop by to see how you’re doing. Do you need anything?”
Albert waved a hand through the air as if swatting a fly. “Nah. I’m doing okay. But that’s kind of you to think of me. How’s Pye doing?” he asked me.
“We’re still getting used to each other, but he seems happy enough. And I’m beginning to understand the appeal people have for cats.” I was being truthful, not merely attempting to be polite. I reached over and put my hand on his. “How are things here by yourself? Are you getting along all right?”
His pale eyes filled, and I was afraid he was going to cry. He shook his head and peered down at his lap. “Truthfully, it’s not easy. Oh, I can hold my own getting ready-made meals at the grocery store and throwing a few things in the washer. It’s at the end of the day, I get into bed, and she’s not there. It’s damned lonely.”
“I can only imagine,” Ben said. “Such a tragedy.”
Albert fisted his hands and looked up, his face red as a steamed crab. “At least they arrested that woman who killed her. I don’t think Gwen even knew that woman, and she up and hammered her to death. But for some damned reason, even though they know who did it, the police keep showing up here asking questions.”
I inhaled a quick breath and sat up straighter. So, the police have doubts about Ally’s guilt. Daniel must have been paying attention to what I’ve been telling him all along. This was the first hopeful moment I’d had since her arrest.
“What kinds of things are the police asking you?” Ben asked, his focus on Albert.
“They want to know what I saw or heard that night, if Gwen told me anything about the other attendees. And they keep asking if we were having marital problems or if Gwen and I were arguing that day. What the hell.”
“Were you?” Ben asked.
“What?” Albert wrinkled his forehead at Ben.
“Having marital problems.”
Albert’s crab face now turned to lobster red and he stood, his hands still fisted. “You too? You think I murdered poor Gwen, don’t you? You didn’t come here to see if I needed help. You think I did it, don’t you?”
“Albert, no. All these years I saw how much you loved her. Why would I think you murdered her?”
Albert stomped to the door and opened it. “Out,” he yelled. “Get out of this house. And don’t come back with any of your pretense.”
I stood and scurried out the door, my head down.
Ben stopped and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Albert,” he said quietly.
Albert shoved his hand away. “Get out.”
“That worked out well, didn’t it?” I said once we were back in the car. “What were you thinking, Ben, when you accused that poor man of murdering his wife?”
“I didn’t accuse him of anything. That’s the way he took it. Anyway, this went exactly the way I wanted.”
“You wanted upset him like that? Why?” I asked.
“Now we’ve got him where we want him. If he didn’t kill Gwen, he’s just going to be angry with us. Not a problem. If he did kill her, this is going to smoke him out of hiding behind his so-called grief to take some action.”
“What kind of action?” I asked.
“He’ll try to kill us.”
Chapter Fifteen
I’d spent the afternoon trying to concentrate on my work but constantly replaying Ben’s words in my head. “He’ll try to kill us.” What had I gotten myself into? Why hadn’t I listened to Daniel and Zach who’d both warned me not to get involved. Why had I gone along with Ben as if this were all a game?
If it was a game, it was a deadly one.
Well, my career as an investigator was officially over. Still, during lunch at Five Guys, Ben and I had argued about who should be questioned next.
“Myra Keating is the next likely suspect,” he said. “She had a motive and the opportunity to kill Gwen. Not to mention the big show she’d made over seeing Ally arguing with me.” He bit into his double bacon cheeseburger.
“What motive?”
Ben wiped the ketchup running down his chin and, still chewing said, “You should know. It’s all in your suspect book. Myra was jealous of Gwen and angry at her for taking over the opening night conference dinner with her Ben Knight Fan Club.”
“Jealousy and anger led to murder? Isn’t that a stretch?” I dug into my lettuce-wrapped burger, savoring its juicy goodness.
“People have murdered for a lot less reason than that,” he said.
“I don’t know.” I plucked a French fry from the greasy bag. “I’ve gotten to know Myra recently. She’s just a lonely woman trying to make friends. I can’t see her committing a murder.”
“There you go again letting your personal opinion sway you from finding the truth.”
“Belinda Scott was as likely to have murdered Gwen as Myra,” I said.
He sat back in his seat, holding his burger mid-air. “My sister? No way. How did you come up with that one?”
“Now who’s using personal opinion to rule out a suspect? Belinda had as much to be jealous and angry about as Myra. And, the person who tried to run me down in the parking garage not only had a silver car like Belinda but had the same platinum blonde hair. I have a witness.”
He shook his head. “Belinda is many things, but she is not a murderer.”
Luckily, our argument led to an impasse and at least a temporary end to our investigation.
“She’s all ready for you,” Ally said when she dropped Myra at my office early that afternoon.
“OMG,” I said. “You look amazing.”
Myra’s hair was styled in a sleek bob shaped to a little below her chin. Her formerly mousy brown hair was now a cascade of chestnut, caramel, and cream. She beamed back at me, obviously ecstatic with her new do. Her smile lit up her face. “I guess I’m ready for step number three.”
I turned toward the door to the warehouse and called, “Zach, I’m leaving now. See you in the morning.”
“Okay,” he said, poking his head into the office. His eyes widened at the sight of Ally. “Hi,” he mumbled.
“Hi,” she said.
Following an awkward silence, I said, “Zach, you remember Myra Keating from the dinner the other night.” I gestured to her.
I wasn’t sure if it was Myra’s makeover or the fact that she and Ally were together in the same room, but Zach’s eyes got even bigger and he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He nodded and headed back into the warehouse.
Ally frowned as he left the room, her eyes moist. Then she shook her head and left.
“I’m worried,” Myra said on our way downtown to Charmaine’s.
“About what?” I asked.
“What if I am now this attractive woman with perfect makeup, hair and clothing, and people still don’t relate to me? Even Ally admitted that people were attracted to her at first, but men only wanted to date her, and she had no real women friends except you.”
Stopped at a traffic light, I glanced at he
r and smiled. “First of all, you have two friends--Ally and me. Then there’s step number four.”
“What’s that?”
“Friendship lessons. How to relate to people so they will relate to you. It’s all a process, but we’ll get you there.”
Charmaine greeted me with a big hug. It always amazed me that even though she often wore frosty colors of silver blues and grays that went with her cool façade, she oozed with warmth. I would have to pay attention to her technique of relating with people so I can pass those things on to Myra.
Charmaine stood back to assess Myra’s coloring and body type, then she directed us to the white leather sofa while she went to the back to gather some outfits that might work. Her assistant, Monet brought us glasses of champagne to enjoy while we waited.
Myra, unaccustomed to such treatment in a clothing store, shifted in her seat, leaned back on the sofa and then forward, crossed her legs at the ankle and then uncrossed them.
I put my hand on her arm. “Relax. This will be fun. It’s something girl friends like to do--go shopping together. You’re going to enjoy it.”
She raised her eyebrows at me as if doubtful, then sighed and leaned back just as Charmaine emerged with a rolling rack of clothing. She had chosen vibrant colors like turquoise and coral and tomato red. I knew immediately how these colors would enhance Myra’s appearance so much more than bland pastel sweater sets.
Charmaine escorted us back to the dressing room to try the outfits. We both gasped at the form-fitting red sheath dress she tried first. “Oh my,” she said, turning to one side and then the other to examine her reflection.
“Amazing,” I said. “You can wear this at a conference, in a board room, or out to dinner. I think we’ve found your power color. It’s definitely a keeper.”
As I helped her unzip the dress and she tried the next few outfits, I wondered if Myra could afford Charmaine’s boutique prices. “Uh, Myra. These clothes look fabulous, and I know it’s not my business. But uh…” I held up the dress tag for her to see.
She shook her head. “No worries about that, Trudie. You know I live rent-free in the owners’ home. Besides giving me the use of their car, they provide a monthly stipend. I also do some part time work as an archivist at a historical museum. But I appreciate your concern.”
The deal she’d arranged with the owners of her home amazed me, especially with her lack of social skills. I wondered how she’d even met those people.
With Charmaine’s help, we chose items that Myra could coordinate to expand her wardrobe with fewer pieces. Charmaine even brought me an outfit she’d found on her latest buying trip to New York. The royal blue wrap dress accentuated my assets but had a shirred waistline that masked my bulges.
“You can wear this out to dinner with Daniel and even on your honeymoon,” Charmaine said.
Honeymoon. I’d been worrying so much about planning our wedding that I hadn’t even thought about a honeymoon. Daniel and I would have to do some thinking about that.
With our items chosen, I noticed Myra’s clunky shoes and shook my head. “We’ll have to make a stop at the shoe store if you’re going to wear clothes like these.”
She nodded. “Whatever you say.”
We ended the day at a coffee shop to sit and marvel at our successful excursion.
“You were right,” Myra said. “Shopping with a friend is fun. Without you and Ally, I never could have achieved so much. Thank you, Trudie.”
“Believe me, this was fun for us, too. I guess you must realize now that Ally could never have murdered Gwendolyn Chong. She’s too good a person.”
Myra straightened in her seat and shook her head. “Oh, no. I know nothing of the sort. You and I both heard Ally arguing with Ben in the hallway. She said it straight out that Gwen needed hammering. I certainly haven’t changed my mind about that.”
Chapter Sixteen
On Saturday, Zach and I finished our prep work, loaded the van, and headed out to the sorority Spring Fling gig. That morning, Zach had picked up the assortment of mini desserts from Jennifer, our baker. We also had the rented tablecloths and napkins, coordinated in purple and gold to match the sorority colors.
Gordon, Samantha, and one other server, Rick from the rental agency, met us at the venue at four-thirty to help unload and set up the room. I enjoyed watching Gordon and Sam talk and laugh while they prepared the buffet table as he placed the silverware and she folded the napkins. Since Gordon was going to be the mocktail bartender for the evening, Zach coached him through the prep. With the early arrival of the DJ and a few of the sorority sisters armed with their lavender and gold foil centerpiece creations for the buffet, high tops, and small round tables, everything was ready.
The evening went smoothly. Guests munched on crudités and steak and veggie flatbreads which were displayed on tiered platters on the buffet table, while Sam and Rick passed trays of chicken drum lollipops, ahi tuna cones, and crab-stuffed mushrooms. Gordon aced his bartending role. Too bad he’d have to wait a few years to use his new skills with real cocktails. Until then, he’d be able to help set up the bar for Zach at future events.
The DJ kept the dance floor full and festive with the sorority sisters, in short little cocktail dresses, rocking it out with their dates. Even our servers, upbeat and smiling, enjoyed the music. A couple of times I saw Sam boogie over to the bar to check on Gordon when he wasn’t busy.
Toward the end of the evening, the music slowed, and guests were helping themselves to the Jennifer’s delicious desserts, served in tall shot glasses.
The sorority president took the mic and thanked everyone for coming, adding a shout-out to the DJ and to A Fine Fix for making the evening an amazing success, sparking a round of applause. It was always nice to hear kudos from our clients, especially in front of all the guests.
When the event was over, the servers helped us clean up and pack the van, and we thanked them for their help. Zach and I fist-bumped when we got into the van.
“This event is what we’re all about,” I said. “Everything perfect, everyone happy.”
“And no murders,” Zach said.
I shivered. “Zach, why would you say something like that? Now you put a damper on the whole evening.”
“Just sayin’.” He winked at me, and I blurted out a giggle.
Zach started the engine, turned on the radio, and we both began to rock with the music and sing along. It had been a good night.
It was almost midnight when we got to the office, and Zach insisted on unloading the van himself. “You go on home, Trudie. I’ve got this.”
“Are you sure? Two of us can get it done a lot faster.”
“Go home to your fiancé. I’ll be fine.”
I was tired and anxious to get home to Daniel. I hadn’t seen him all day and knew he’d be up waiting for my safe return. In my car, I locked the doors, put on my seatbelt, and turned on the car. I powered up the radio, trying to keep that upbeat feeling I’d had in the van with Zach. I loved my orange Honda that I’d driven since college. But at times like these, I wished I had a newer car with all the bells and whistles, including Bluetooth, so I could call Daniel with voice activation. I didn’t want to waste the time now calling him from my phone. I’d be home in fifteen minutes anyway.
As I turned out of the office park onto Gude Drive, I noticed a car start up and its headlights turn on. The car pulled up behind me at the next corner. I turned left, and the car turned left. I turned right, and the car turned right. A coincidence?
Rockville Pike during the day was usually a traffic nightmare, but at this time of night, there were very few vehicles. The car behind me drew up close, almost to my bumper. I slowed down in the right lane to allow it to pass, but it remained behind me.
My entire body prickled an alert, and I pressed down on the accelerator to speed up. I needed to get away from this car that appeared to be stalking me, and home to Daniel. The next traffic light turned yellow, and I sped through it. I checked my rear-v
iew mirror. The car behind me sped through the light as it turned red.
A moment later, the car slowed, falling behind. I began to breathe easier and continued at the posted speed limit. But when I checked the mirror again, I realized that, rather than slowing down, the car behind me was approaching at a fast clip, its headlights appearing larger and larger as it neared me. I jammed my foot down on the gas pedal, but not soon enough. The car rammed into mine.
The impact sent me jerking forward into the steering wheel. I let out an oomph and then sat up, stunned.
I checked the mirror again. The car behind me fell back, only to rev its engine loudly and accelerate toward me even faster. I tried to pull myself together enough to speed away, but like in a bad dream, I was frozen in place and couldn't think fast enough to move my car forward.
This time, the car hit me with a loud boom, throwing me even harder into the steering wheel. If I hadn’t had my seatbelt on, I would have flown through the windshield. The breath was knocked out of me, and I struggled, trying to inhale some air. Once I’d caught my breath, I put my arm across the steering wheel and rested my head, too exhausted to do anything but wait for another impact.
A horn honked, and I jumped, turning my head toward my side window. As the silver car passed slowly beside me, the driver gave me a wave and a toss of her platinum blonde hair. Then she drove off.
Chapter Seventeen
I pulled over and called Daniel, sobbing as I tried to get my story out.
“Are you all right? Did your airbag deploy?” he asked.
I peered down at the steering wheel. “No airbag. I guess the impact wasn’t hard enough, but I’m pretty winded.” I tried to take a deep breath, but pain sliced through my body. “Ow. And my ribs hurt.”
“I’m coming to get you now.”
My hands were sweaty and shook as I held my phone. I peered out the car window to see where I was. The empty parking lot I could have pulled into was dark and scary. “No, I don’t want to wait here. I just want to get home.”