Margot groaned. “Please stop calling him your almost husband. You don’t even know him.”
“And he’s dead. Unless she will marry a ghost. Oh, wait, she would.”
“Odds, would you please be silent!”
Margot ended up leaving them both in the room. She slipped out with a note to Nancy that she would see her later while her friend was in the shower. Margot rode the elevator back downstairs and speculated about the man she had met. Jimmy had called him dad, but she couldn’t imagine the man being related to Jimmy who wore undershirts outside more often than not and who stashed cookies inside body bags. Surely, Jimmy’s father would never do such a disgusting thing.
When Margot reached a turn in the hall, she realized she had been so deep in thought she hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going. There were no ballrooms in this section. The double doors on the left led out to an empty courtyard with benches and flowers sodden from the downpour.
She realized the entrance led to the same courtyard as was available to the ball guests. On the second floor at the other side was the room where Zabrina had pushed her father to his death. Margot caught a slight glimpse of the place now with the light shining out of the room, and someone stood in front of the balcony doors.
A noise behind her made Margot spin around, and she spotted a patch of black disappear around the bend. She moved as fast as her feet could carry her to the end of the passage and gasped. Richard Sandifer was just letting himself into one of the rooms. When he turned to look in Margot’s direction, she ducked out of sight, a hand pressed to her chest. A step in the hall made her light-headed, and then a cat’s yowl followed by a man’s curse. When a door slammed, Margot peeked again to find Odds preening himself in front of the door where she had seen Mr. Sandifer.
“I should have named you Houdini,” Margot told Odds. “How did you get out of the room, you hard-headed thing?”
“No thank you?”
She shook a fist at his head. “Thank you, but you’ve probably gotten us in trouble. He’ll just call the front desk and tell them I have my cat here.”
“No he won’t.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Because he smells funny.”
Margot frowned at him. “What do you mean he smells funny? He’s been drinking?”
“I forget.”
Margot gave up and moved past Odds. “Oh never mind. Come on. Nancy can keep you company.”
“She’s not there.”
Margot stopped walking. “Where is she?”
“Looking for her ‘almost husband.’”
“In the grave?”
“You were scared to tell her the truth. She’ll just take that other one.”
Margot squawked in alarm, peeked at Odds to see if he noticed, and then pulled herself together. This was ridiculous. She was a mature woman, and not given to odd fantasies like Nancy. “We’ll get my big bag, and you can hide in there, Odds.”
In a few minutes, Margot had her bag with Odds tucked inside, and then she went to locate Nancy before she got herself into something she couldn’t get herself out of. When Margot reached the stairs beneath the balcony room, Nancy wasn’t there. Surely, she wasn’t inside. Raised voices reached Margot, and she started up.
“I’m telling you, arrest me, detective,” a familiar voice shouted. “I’m the one that killed Brock Cordova, not my niece.”
Margot reached the top of the stairs huffing and puffing. She moved across the short landing to the open doorway to find Jimmy, his dad, Zabrina, Peter, and Jones. Peter’s color was high, and from the set of his shoulders, Margot imagined he had had enough of everyone. Poor Peter sometimes forgot his patience when faced with people trying to take him for a fool.
“Mr. Barber, Lyle Barber, is that correct?”
Jimmy’s dad nodded. “Yes.”
“So what you’re telling me is Ms. Cordova, AKA Ms. Fague, is your niece, Mr. Jimmy Barber’s cousin?”
“Yes, my sister married Brock Cordova two years before Zabrina was born. They later divorced, and for a while she lived with her dad.”
Peter wrote down this information. “I will verify this information. For the record, what makes you think I should believe you killed Brock Cordova?”
Jimmy grasped his father’s arm, but Margot couldn’t see his facial expression because his back was to her. She did see Zabrina’s, which was pale. She sat in a chair in the corner, eyes unfocused.
“I expect you to believe it,” Mr. Barber said, “because Brock probably didn’t die from that fall. It’s more likely that he died from poisoning, and I’m the one that poisoned him.”
Chapter Six
“No!” Zabrina jumped to her feet. “No, Uncle Lyle. It’s my fault…because of him.”
An uproar of voices rose in the room, Zabrina insisting she was the killer, Jimmy denying it for both Zabrina and his dad, and the policemen trying to get everyone to calm down.
Margot inched farther into the room, keeping her eyes averted to the floor, as if that would help her not to be noticed by anyone. If she could just find a seat in the corner, she would be okay. Maybe that blanket over her head again, even though the light was on.
“Quiet, everyone,” Peter bellowed, and the room went silent. All gazes swiveled toward Margot, and she froze. Then of course Odds popped his little head above the bag and peered around the room.
“I think they’re looking at you.”
She made a sound of impatience and pushed him down into the bag. Jones moved to the door and shuffled Margot through it. Seconds later, the door slammed. She grumbled all the way down to the first floor. “This is your fault, Odds.”
“Why are you blaming the cat? I could have gotten in without being seen.”
That was true, but she wouldn’t admit it to him. “Where’s Nancy? She wasn’t in there.”
Margot entered the ballroom. A great many of the guests were gone. She didn’t know if they were still in the hotel and had secured rooms or braved the violent whether outside. Quite a few were still in attendance. Someone had turned the music back on, and Margot stood at the edge of the room watching as a few souls cared nothing for the fact that a man had been killed. They danced arm in arm, smiles, glittering jewelry and ball gowns.
“Party crasher, two o’clock.”
Margot automatically stirred to shove Odds’ head out of sight, but she spotted Nancy at the dessert table, which must have been moved inside when the bad weather began. Nancy filled a plate as if she were an invited guest. Her pursed lips and puckered brow told Margot she judged every creation based on her own skill at baking. Nancy grabbed hold of the arm of the man next to her and began pointing out what he should select. At the other end of the table, Belinda had just stepped from the kitchen and spotted Nancy.
Margot started in their direction, but Odds’ words stopped her again.
“The murderer.”
Margot glanced down to find Odds looking in the other direction. She spun around. Lyle Barber stood in the ballroom doorway with a police officer behind him.
“You don’t know that he killed anyone, Odds.”
“He said he did, and he looks like a killer.”
“No, he doesn’t,” she insisted. Several people glanced in her direction. She didn’t bother to try to hide Odds and instead hurried over to Lyle Barber to introduce herself. “Hello, Mr. Barber. I’m Margot Gardner. I’m Zabrina’s next door neighbor, actually.”
His eyebrows rose. “Call me Lyle, please.”
“Okay, Lyle. You can call me Margot. Lyle, did you really kill Brock Cordova?”
“Subtle.”
The man blushed. “You don’t bite your tongue, do you, Margot?”
“When you’ve reached a certain age, you don’t have to. But that’s not completely true. I don’t say everything on my mind. Can we talk?”
He seemed to study Margot as if to say why should they when she had nothing to do with his family’s problems. Still, he smiled, and
sighed. “Why not? I confess I’m at a loss here, and I’ve never been to one of these fancy parties.”
“But you’re so distinguished and handsome!” Margot blushed. “Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to say that.”
He laughed. “I’m beginning to think you do say whatever’s on your mind, Margot.”
She tittered, embarrassed, and followed him over to the dessert table. By that time, Nancy had her back to them and was arguing with Belinda about whipping batter. Margot moved as quickly as she could to make a dessert choice and find a quieter corner with Lyle at her side.
As they walked, Margot heard snippets of the gossip around them. “I can’t believe someone wanted Brock Cordova dead.”
“After all his foundation has done for women,” another agreed.
Margot peeped at Lyle to see his reaction and was surprised to see rage burning in his gaze. His knuckles whited on the plate of lemon raspberry cake he held. When they found a spot where no one was near enough to overhear their conversation, he made no move to eat.
Margot sat down in an armchair against the wall and rested her bag against the table. Lyle took the chair opposite hers. Odds leaped from the bag and then onto her lap.
“Do you always carry your cat everywhere you go, Margot?”
“Someone has to watch her. She’s a scatterbrain.”
Margot tapped the top of Odds’ head as punishment. He glanced at her wide-eyed.
“What did I say?”
“I can’t get him to behave. One day the pound will get him, and I won’t rescue him.
“Ask her how many times I rescued her today.”
Margot huffed.
“It’s good to have a friend who will never leave you,” Lyle said, and he got a faraway look in his eyes. “For a long time, Patty—sorry, you know her as Zabrina. For a long time, Zabrina didn’t have that.”
Margot heard sadness in his tone. “You didn’t believe what those people were saying about her dad, that Brock Cordova was a good man.”
Lyle drew his lips back from his teeth. “No! He was a devil. He deserved what he got and worse.”
“So you killed him to protect Zabrina? She ran away from home, didn’t she?”
Curiosity came into Lyle’s expression, but Margot resisted explaining how she knew so much about Zabrina’s situation, that Margot herself was the main witness. Margot looked across to the dessert table. Now Belinda stomped into the kitchen, and Nancy followed her. She hoped Nancy wouldn’t end up arrested, but she doubted the police had time to deal with a baker who thought no one could bake as well as she.
Margot turned back to Lyle and found him rubbing his eyes. “For two years, we didn’t know where she was, and then she contacted my sister. I sent her Jimmy to look after her. We cut off ties except for once a year when Zabrina sent us updates. She also sent her mom a little money now and then. I just wanted her to be able to live, and living for Zabrina meant being able to see her mom. She couldn’t do that as long as he was alive.”
Margot couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Surely, it was a solid confession, an open and closed case for Peter. “Once the police determine Mr. Cordova died by poisoning, I suppose it’s over.”
Lyle nodded. “Yes, and Zabrina can see her mother.”
“And get her inheritance.”
They both glanced up to see Jimmy, who frowned at Margot. “But it doesn’t matter, Dad. You shouldn’t be confessing to something you didn’t do!”
“Jimmy. Son, I told you I made the decision I thought was best.”
“It’s not best! Not for Zabrina, or me, or my aunt. He’s still ruining all our lives.”
Several heads swiveled in their direction. Margot shifted in her seat. She didn’t know what to believe. Someone had poisoned Brock Cordova, or Lyle wouldn’t make such a claim. Yet, Jimmy was saying he didn’t do it. Was Lyle lying?
“He knew about the poison when no one else did.”
Margot looked down at Odds. “You’re right.”
“Who’s right?” both Jimmy and Lyle said at the same time.
“Uh…” Margot searched for a response.
Lyle stood and set his plate on the table. “I’m going back to talk to that detective. He must listen to me and let Zabrina go.”
“Dad!”
“Stay here, Jimmy. I’ll get it straightened out.”
Jimmy grumbled, but he didn’t follow his father. He paced between Margot’s chair and the one next to it and then dropped into the seat his father vacated. Frustration radiated off him, and he pushed both hands through his hair.
“Why is he being so stubborn?” Jimmy demanded.
“Why are you?” Margot countered. “Your dad says he killed Mr. Cordova. Why don’t you believe him? Did you do it?”
Jimmy gaped at Margot, and then he surged to his feet, looking off toward the exit. Margot grabbed his arm, but Jimmy shook her off.
“Young man, do you really think if you go up there and confess to killing your uncle, your father will accept that?”
Jimmy sat down. “How did you know?”
Margot shook her head as she looked at him. Jimmy wasn’t a bright man. She had seen evidence of that the entire time she lived in the same apartment building. He wasn’t a bad sort either, and it looked like he had devoted his life to caring for his cousin Zabrina. So many sacrifices in that family, all because of one man.
“Remember you asked me to support Zabrina if anything happened tonight, Jimmy?”
He frowned at her and then sighed. The slumped shoulders told her he felt as weary as she after such a long day. “Yeah.”
“Well, I’m pretty clever if I do say so myself. I’m sure I can help figure out who did kill your uncle if your dad didn’t do it.”
“He didn’t!”
“Jimmy, honestly, you’re being childish. Your dad is old enough to make his own choices. You’re insisting he didn’t is ridiculous. But, before you fuss at me for my opinion, I repeat I’ll help all I can to clear his name if he’s innocent.”
“Why should I believe you can do anything, Margot! You’re just a odd job fanatic!”
“New term. I think it will catch on.”
“Shush, Odds.”
“See?” Jimmy accused her. “You’re always talking to that cat. Just stay out of my family’s business.” He started to walk away again.
“Okay, well, I’m sure the other suspect will be fine with Zabrina taking the blame.”
Jimmy froze and turned slowly on his heel to face her. “You’re making that up.”
Margot leaned forward in her seat and dug into her bag to find a notebook where she kept notes about information she learned. Instead of studying what she had written, she fanned herself with the stiff cardboard. The breeze felt wonderful as the ballroom had grown hot. Jimmy glared at her, and Margot began humming to the tune playing over the speakers and rocking.
“Fine, old lady,” Jimmy grumbled. He flopped into the seat next to Margot for the third time. “All of this started because of murder.”
Margot nodded. “Yes, we know that. Brock Cordova.”
Jimmy shook his head. “Not him. Some other guy. The only thing I know is someone was murdered years ago. Zabrina was involved, and so was my uncle, Brock Cordova. Zabrina went on the run. Nobody knew where she was until she contacted my aunt, her mother.”
Margot laid a hand to her chest. “How old was she when she disappeared?”
“Fifteen.”
“The poor dear. How old is Zabrina now?”
“Twenty-five. She’s been in hiding for ten years. There’s no statute of limitations on murder.”
“Is that true?” Margot asked.
Jimmy frowned at her. “Is what true, her age? Don’t you think I know how old my cousin is, or were you thinking I’m so stupid I don’t know how to count?”
Margot rubbed a temple. “No, Jimmy. I meant is it true there’s no… Never mind. If Zabrina killed someone all those years ago, I see why she ran away.”
/> “I didn’t say she killed somebody. I told you there was murder. I don’t know any more than that. My family has always been close. We aren’t rich, and we don’t care about the highfalutin people like the ones at this party.”
He nodded his head toward the crowd, speaking a little too loudly for Margot’s taste. Several resentful glares swung in their direction. One of the women appeared to be about to set Jimmy straight, but her friend held onto her arm to keep her still. Maybe they weren’t as calm as they appeared after the murder.
“They’re probably thinking they’re next.”
Margot agreed. Odds seemed to read her mind.
“My aunt, Zabrina’s mother, met and married her father. He insisted she cut her family off, and she did until she realized what a controlling son of a b—”
“Jimmy!”
“—gun he was. When they got divorced, he refused to give up Zabrina, and they haven’t seen each other since then.”
“Oh my word, that’s horrible. A young girl needs her mother.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Jimmy grumbled, “but my aunt got in touch with her again, and they started up a long distance relationship. Then everything went bad. My aunt almost died worrying about Zabrina. My dad was the one that came up with the plan after we finally heard from Zabrina. I think he and my aunt know everything that happened. He’s a retired middle school English teacher, so he doesn’t make a lot, but he’s a good person! I’m not letting him go to prison for that bastard.”
Margot tapped her chin thinking. “You gave up your life, too, Jimmy. You’re a good person underneath all the gruffness.”
“What gruffness?”
A feline snort.
“I wasn’t doing much with my life, hustling to make a dollar here and there.”
“You mean what you’re doing now?” She tilted her head to the side much like Odds tended to do. Jimmy’s eyebrows knitted tighter.
“Anyway, Zabrina and I went into hiding, right in plain sight. New York is the best place in the world to hide, in my opinion. Cordova’s business is in D.C., and you would think it would be better for us to have gone across the country to like California. Naw, New York was perfect, and Zabrina used the phobia to cover her birthmark.”
Odds Ball (Margot and Odds Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 4