“Ah, but he wasn’t likely to cool off, was he? Dick was mad as all get-out because Humberger tricked his granddaughter,” mused Showalter. “You have no choice but to keep putting pressure on both the grandfather and the granddaughter.”
“That's true,” said Lou, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Witnesses have testified that Humberger was just as angry about the situation as Dick was. They say Humberger kept yelling that he was the injured party. According to him, Ms. Delgatto cheated him out of a business deal. The receptionist for Humberger Real Estate told me that Hal didn't even realize he'd been snookered at first. He waltzed in pleased as punch, because he thought he'd completed a deal that he and Philomena had been working on with Cooper Rivers for months. Philomena was horrified. Couldn't believe Hal hadn't bothered to check out the signature or the name on the check.”
“Hal Humberger has always been sloppy,” said Showalter. “That's why he had to close his construction business. He never did proper estimates, never double-checked his bills, never met his deadlines, and he had frequently had cost overruns.”
Lou agreed. “When he came back with the contract signed by Ms. Delgatto, his wife went nuts. She had been after him to check his cell phone messages regularly, but of course, he didn't. If he had, he would have known that Jodi Wireka had been delayed coming back from an appointment. She’d been up in Vero talking with a wedding planner. There had been a four-car pileup on I-95 that forced her to take an alternate route from Vero Beach to Stuart. Consequently, she wasn't able to meet Hal Humberger at The Treasure Chest at the designated time. If Hal had known that, he would have realized that Ms. Delgatto was not who he thought she was.”
Showalter sucked air through his teeth. “Let me see if I've got all this straight. Philomena's angry with Hal, Dick Potter is angry with Hal, and I'd say Ms. Jodi Wireka wasn't happy with Hal either. What about Cooper Rivers? Wasn't he furious that Hal Humberger messed up his business transaction?”
“I still have to take his statement.” The cold surface of the ice pack made the bruise hurt more rather than less. A trickle of water ran down Lou’s arm. The pack was getting soggy. He’d had enough. Lou tossed the wet mess into a trash receptacle and decided to check on Cara Mia and Skye.
“How could Humberger have made such a big mistake?” asked Showalter as Lou climbed into an elevator.
“My guess is that he mistook one woman for the other. Ms. Wireka and Ms. Delgatto both have dark curly hair. They're about the same height. If Ms. Delgatto was wearing her baseball cap and sunglasses, like she was when I saw her at Pumpernickel's, it would have been hard to tell them apart.”
“You know her? This Jodi Wireka?” asked Showalter.
“Yes. A little. I've seen her around town when she’s been hanging all over Cooper Rivers. Word on the street is that she started as his secretary and worked her way up.”
“That's why Humberger didn't bother to check Ms. Delgatto's identification,” said Showalter. “He assumed he knew who she was. He didn't look carefully at the check or at her signature for the same reason. Geez. I always thought Humberger was dumb, but I never figured him for a total moron.”
“Dumber than a wet bag of kitty litter,” said Lou. “It's possible that his carelessness is what got him killed.”
CHAPTER 34
“Ms. Delgatto, your grandfather is going to be fine once we get him stabilized,” the nursing supervisor said, while pushing her glasses higher on her nose. She looked more like a librarian than a nurse, with that prim mouth and her gray hair in a tidy bun at the back of her neck. “This is a predictable outcome when the patient is a non-compliant diabetic.”
“When will my grandfather be released?” I asked. Skye gave me a light squeeze of the arm that helped me feel re-assured and then stepped aside. She managed to walk a fine line between being there for me and hanging back enough to give me a sense of privacy.
“I'm not sure. I should have more for you in a few minutes,” the supervisor said, before turning abruptly and walking away down the hall.
A ding announced an elevator car. The doors rumbled open. Detective Murray lumbered over and stood by us. I knew he wasn't to blame, but part of me needed someone to be mad at. He was a nice big target. My heart twisted in my chest. “Are you going to press charges for assault and battery?”
“Look,” he said, as he spread his big hands in a placating move, “I know you're probably not happy with me, but it was lucky that I brought him in for questioning. If I hadn't been talking with him at the time his blood sugar plummeted, he could have slipped into a coma and…”
“I realize all that. Thank you. Thanks a lot. I still need to know, are you going to press charges for assault and battery?”
“No. That's not how I roll. I'm not a jerk. Your grandfather is a decorated war veteran. He wasn't himself when he took a swing at me.”
“Thanks,” I said, with a pang of guilt for not sounding more grateful. Maybe Skye was right about Detective Murray. His job was to find out who murdered Hal Humberger. That was the only reason he was involved. He wasn’t trying to pin anything on me. He was only doing his job. I'd shown up at the wrong time and in the wrong place. Of course he had to take a hard line with me.
Why was my life suddenly so complicated? I had signed a contract to buy a building I hadn't seen in years. My grandfather was gravely ill. He and I both were suspects in a murder case. All this because I'd decided to take a road trip to Miami! Next time I planned to turn everything over to AAA. Obviously, I wasn’t very good at this.
“I said I won’t press charges and I won’t, but I will still need to question him. By the way, you aren't in the clear either. I have a few more questions to ask you.”
He had a lot of nerve. “Thanks heaps. You can schedule your questions for the twelfth of never.”
“There's a murderer out there, Ms. Delgatto. You snapped up a deal meant for someone else. Your grandfather was seen quarreling with a man who's now dead. If anything, you two should want this resolved. That reminds me,” he turned toward Skye. “Ladies? I take it you both were at The Treasure Chest when the hospital called?”
“Right-o, Sherlock.” I couldn't keep the sarcasm from my voice.
“Do you think that's smart to hang around that place? I don’t. Remember, there were no signs of forced entry into that building. Until I figure out who did this, you need to be extra careful. Don't walk around outside the building in the dark. Don't climb into a dark car without checking, especially one that’s parked near the building. Lock your doors immediately once you get inside your car.”
I didn't say anything, but Skye piped up with, “We will, Lou.”
“If I were you, Ms. Delgatto, I'd have the locks on the building changed. There is a murderer out there, somewhere, and when he comes back, he might be coming back for you.”
CHAPTER 35
My curiosity was getting the better of me. It was time for the direct approach. “What's with you and the detective?” I asked Skye, as she guided her car onto Ocean Boulevard, a main drag in downtown Stuart.
She blushed. “Nothing.”
“Come on. You're more than friends. I can tell by how he looks at you.”
“Does he?” Her voice took on the eagerness of a young girl.
My stomach growled, and I turned to my friend. “Where else is there to eat besides Pumpernickel's? Don't suggest that crummy diner over by Hobe Sound. Yuck.”
“Riverwalk Cafe,” said Skye, with a dreamy smile. “They have the best hamburgers in the world. Great fish, too.”
“I owe you a good lunch,” I said. “If you'll take us there, I'll buy.”
Skye was right. The Riverwalk were the best burgers I've ever had, bar none! We both ordered burgers. She asked for sweet potato fries, and I had a side salad. As we chowed down, we worked to keep our minds off the murder investigation. Our strategy was to brainstorm what to do with the piles of furniture and junk that littered every inch.
“Fir
st, we need to unstack everything and sort through it,” I said, as I made notes on my legal pad.
“If I recall, there are two units upstairs, right? What are you planning to do with the second unit?”
“Rent it out,” I said. “After I go through everything, I need to decide what stuff has value and what doesn't. That assumes, of course, that there are any items worth saving there, and whether I can recognize items of value.”
“You want to call MJ Austin,” Skye munched on a dill pickle. The garlic was released with every bite. “She'll be able to look at things and tell you what they should sell for. MJ used to work for Essie.”
“I know. So I'd heard.” I sort of ignored that suggestion. Until I had an idea what I was dealing with, why add to my expenses? “Third, I need to get things fixed that are broken. Get the locks changed, too.”
“MJ has a huge Rolodex of craftsmen. She's the one who made all the calls for Essie.”
I leaned back in my seat and took a drink from the big glass of mango iced tea that’s a specialty of the Riverwalk. “I loved visiting Essie's store when I was a kid, but I think a shop like that would have a limited market in today's economy. Most of her merchandise was high-end antiques. The store was dark and sort of gloomy. A few tourists might wander in, but not many, and not often. At least not that I noticed.”
“That's true,” said Skye. “I think she let things go as she got older. The place got worn out and ratty looking. She had a good reputation. Interior Designers and antique dealers would stop by to find unique items, but I don't think she made much money over the last few years of her life. I think she survived from one big sale to another. After her stroke she couldn't poke around in the salvage shops and consignment stores anymore. That's where she'd found her best treasures, the most profitable things she sold.”
“I wouldn't know an antique or collectible if I saw one,” I said.
“There are books that could help you but studying them would take a lot of time,” suggested Skye. She wiped her fingertips delicately on a paper napkin. One lone cucumber seed stared up at us. “And then there is MJ.”
“Okay, I give. All roads seem to lead to MJ. How do I get in touch with her?”
Skye handed me her phone. “When she stopped by Pumpernickel's yesterday, I asked her for her number.”
MJ listened to me introduce myself and then cut the chitchat short with, “Of course you need me. I'll meet you at the store in half an hour.”
“See?” said Skye. “You'll have The Treasure Chest up and running in no time. I bet lots of Essie's old customers will be eager to buy from you.”
“Speaking of which...” and I shared with her what Brad Houston had told me about the Highwaymen paintings.
“That's right!” Skye snapped her fingers. “I remember reading about the theft. See, there was this big exhibit of their work a couple of months ago, and the local paper ran an article about the Highwaymen. The reporter dug up an old interview with Essie and referenced it. I overheard a couple people talking about it in the restaurant. Wow. Can you imagine? How on earth did she lose track of all those paintings?”
I shrugged. “I'm wondering why her son, Irving, didn't do a better job of keeping track of them himself. Okay, so Essie had a stroke. Still, he wouldn't have been at her bedside every minute of the day. Why didn't he keep an eye on the store, considering how valuable those paintings were?”
“That happened when? Twelve years ago?”
I nodded.
“That would be around the time that Irving Feldman's wife was diagnosed with MS. Irving and Evelyn still come into Pumpernickel's once in a while. He pushes her wheelchair. It's the cutest thing. He's so sweet to her. I've heard she's gotten worse. A lot worse.”
“You must think I'm an insensitive bore,” I said. “I didn't know about his wife.”
“Not at all. How would you know? You haven't been living here.”
“I wonder if MJ could have stolen the paintings. Maybe she's sitting on them, planning to sell them, and the police don't know it.”
“Not likely,” said Skye. “If she had the paintings, she would never need to work another day in her life! Besides, she was like a daughter to Essie. No, from what I've heard MJ is as baffled by their disappearance as anyone.”
CHAPTER 36
When Skye drove us back to The Treasure Chest, we discovered a pink Cadillac in one of the spaces next to Black Beauty. The owner climbed out, gave a nod to Skye, and offered me her hand.
“Mary as in the Virgin. Jayne as in Mansfield. Austin as in Texas,” said the woman. I judged her to be fifteen years my senior.
“You got here in a hurry.” I tried not to stare at her outfit. Pink ribbons tied up MJ Austin's blonde pigtails. Thanks to a pink and white gingham blouse tied under her bust, she looked like she was dressed for an Elly May Clampett costume party. However, the ornate crucifix nestled in her décolleté was definitely not part of the original Beverly Hillbillies storyline.
“I was planning to work in my garden,” she said, “but you need my help. Desperately.”
I unlocked the back door. We stepped inside, walked to the front, and she looked around. “This place is a mess. There's no way that you could know what's valuable and what's not. But I do. I also know all the workmen that Essie used. I know what they're good at and what they charge. I have a Rolodex with a list of her best sources.”
Talk about getting to the point!
“Should we discuss your compensation?”
“Here's my last pay stub.” She wiggled dragon-lady red nails into a back pocket of her skin tight jeans.
I glanced at the paper. The woman had been paid a pittance.
“I need to go and do my shift at the deli,” said Skye, hoisting her purse over her shoulder. “Seems like you two have everything under control.”
Although MJ owed her employment to Skye, she didn't seem to realize the waitress had done her a good turn. I made a mental note to mention it later. Meanwhile, I had my own debt of gratitude to repay.
“Skye, I can't thank you enough,” I said, but she held up a finger to interrupt.
“Yes, actually you can. I have a favor to ask. Something for you to consider at least. You told me you planned to rent out the second apartment. I'd like to be your tenant. You don't have to answer right now.”
This came out of nowhere, but it warmed my heart. Skye had proven herself to be my friend, and I needed a renter. She hadn't even looked the place over though, so I offered to take her upstairs and show her around.
“Sure,” she said. “I can spare five minutes, but I can't imagine that I won't like it.”
“I'll start sorting through the papers on Essie's desk,” said MJ.
“That's fine but don't toss anything. I want to look over everything.
MJ raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”
As she headed for the old desk in the back, Skye and I climbed the stairs. “I thought I'd take the unit on the left, but if that doesn't work for you, we can swap.”
“In case I have some sort of left-phobia?”
“Ha ha,” and I steered us to the right. After opening the door, we stared into the dark and empty space. The overhead light didn't do much to improve the situation since the windows were boarded over.
“Ever watch House Hunters International?” I said.
“My favorite show, next to the High Low Project! Even when the place is a pile of sticks, I can see the potential.”
“That's good,” I said. “Because this isn't much better than a rundown shack.
“Yes, but it’ll be a shack with a view of the water,” she said.
“Once we get the boards torn down.”
“That would be nice, but right now I'd settle for a poster of the beach. My roommate, Terra, and her boyfriend are back. They are driving me bonkers.”
I turned to her and grinned. “Are they having what my son would call wild monkey sex?”
“It's worse than that. They've caught an exotic vari
ation of the decorating bug. She's decided to carpet the entire apartment in pink shag. I'd rather stick a pencil in my eye! If you'll let me paint and decorate this place, that's all I ask.”
“I hope you have furniture,” I said, as we continued our tour. “Although the place does come with a metal bed frame, a TV tray table, and a plastic lawn chair.”
“Just my style,” she said with a chuckle. “Seriously, I love fixing up old stuff. Furnishing this will be a blast.”
I knew that I should check her credit references and ask for a deposit, but how could I when she'd taken me in off the streets? Not to mention the fact, she'd been there for me during every crisis since I’d hit town? So although I visualized my father shaking his index finger at me in annoyance, I asked, “When do you want to move in?”
“Tonight? Is that too soon? Do I appear too eager?”
I laughed. There was something breezy and effortless about Skye, as though she didn't have a care in the world. Her happy personality was joyfully infectious. We were going to make good neighbors. “Fine by me.”
CHAPTER 37
Before Skye left for her shift at Pumpernickel's, I exacted a promise that she'd return at six with carry-out.
“Anything you don't eat?” she asked.
“Liver.”
“That makes two of us.” She threw her arms around my neck and gave me a hug. “Thanks a heap for letting me move in so quickly. I appreciate it. I promise I'll be a great renter—and I'll help with the store as much as I can.”
“You've already done a lot.”
With a grin, she waved goodbye and fairly pranced out of the front door, leaving me to MJ's steely glance. For someone who dressed like a TV sitcom character, MJ didn't seem to have any sense of humor. It was almost as if the woman hated me on sight.
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