by Elaine Macko
“Is Mom okay?” I asked. I hated to think of my mother crying.
“Yeah, she just needed her mother. Your dad was upset, too, but stayed strong for Mable. I knew they would make a good match from the day I met him, just like I knew John was the one for you.”
“Really? Well, I guess you can’t be right all the time,” I quipped.
“Don’t be too hard on him, kiddo. He’s a cop. And a man. Not his fault he wasn’t born a girl with common sense. We have to cut them some slack. Did John tell you anything last night? Are they really serious about Samantha?” Meme had a worried look on her face.
“Grandma, I’m really worried, too.” My voice cracked.
“Kiddo, you’re not saying Sam did it?”
“I don’t know. John said they gave her every chance to tell them where she was the evening Mr. Sanjari was killed. Plus there’s more.”
My grandmother put her hand on her heart. “What? Tell me.”
“She thinks Michael’s having an affair. Don’t say a word to Mom or Dad. And you know what? I called him the minute John took her to the station and he wasn’t at his office and no one knew where he was. I left a message and never heard a word. His wife is in jail and he can’t be found.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
I looked at my grandmother. “No, it doesn’t.” I took a couple bites out of my toast and then took a sip of tea.
“Do you think she’s having an affair?” Meme asked.
“Oh, God, I hope not. I can’t believe she would. I mean, when would she have the time with two kids and work and a husband…” I let my words trail off.
“But? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. I mean, well, I never gave it a second thought, but now that I’m thinking about it, she’s been coming in late or leaving early quite a bit. She’s always got something going on with Kendall and Henry, so I figured that’s all it was, but what if it’s not?”
At the sound of footsteps on the walk outside, Meme and I stopped talking. There was a light tap on the door and then it opened and my sister walked in, surprising me for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.
Chapter 8
Meme stood up faster than I thought possible for a woman her size—short and round— and wrapped my sister in a great big hug. When Sam straightened up, she had tears in her eyes and so did my grandmother.
“I knew you’d be here,” Sam said to me.
“Sit down, sweetheart, while I get you some breakfast.”
Sam looked at my plate. “I’ll have the same thing, Meme. I’ll get the tea.”
A few minutes later they were back in the living room. Meme brought more salami out on a small cutting board and added a chunk of provolone cheese. I took several more slices of the meat and a couple of the cheese.
When we were all settled, Meme looked at my sister and said firmly, “Samantha, you have to tell the police where you were. There’s nothing you can say that will change how we feel about you, but you have to tell them. We can’t lose you, honey, and those kids need their mother. Whatever is going on, we’ll fix it. Just tell John everything so he can help you.”
My sister started to cry and then everything came pouring out. “I’m so ashamed of myself. I never thought I would be one of those women, but I couldn’t help it.”
Meme and I exchanged glances. What was going on here? Did my sister just admit to having an affair of her own?
I reached out and touched her hand and handed her a tissue from a box on the end table.
“Samantha, Meme’s right. We love you no matter what. Everyone’s allowed to make a mistake at least once in their life. You’re at the age where you’re probably wondering what it all means; did you make the right choices, are you losing your looks. It’s only natural that you’d be flattered at the attention some guy might pay you.”
Sam wiped her eyes, took a bite of cheese and looked at me. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“You’re having an affair, right? Isn’t that what you’re trying to tell us?”
“Whaaattt! Are you crazy? Of course I’m not having an affair. When would I find the time, and exactly what do you mean I’m losing my looks?”
I ran my hand across my forehead in a thank God for that motion. “Whew, that’s a relief.”
Meme and I both gave a nervous little laugh.
“We didn’t really think you were, but Alex said you’ve been leaving the office early a lot lately or coming in late.”
“So if you’re not having an affair then what are you so ashamed of? What have you been doing?” I asked.
“I’m ashamed because I’ve been following Michael. Or at least trying to. But by the time I drop the kids off and get to his office, he’s not there. I’ve been sitting in the parking lot across the street from his practice waiting for him to show up and he never does. And the night Mr. Sanjari was killed, Michael was late. I called him and got no answer so I did the same thing. I drove over to his office and waited. But he never showed up. Where the hell is he? I can’t keep this up. I’m acting like one of those wives who doesn’t trust their husbands. That’s not me.”
“This is great!” I said and then received two weird looks from the others in the room. “I don’t mean it’s great that you don’t know where Michael is, but now you can tell John and you’ll be off the hook for murder.”
“No, I won’t. I still don’t have an alibi. No one else was around. No one saw me; at least I hope they didn’t. God, this is a mess.”
“Was Michael home last night?” I asked.
“Yes, he was home and we had dinner and then I asked him where he’s been. I told him what happened, and he was mortified and apologized for not being there for me, but all he said was that he was just so busy at work and had a meeting with some other dentists.”
“Did you believe him?”
Sam gave me her stern teacher look. “No, I didn’t believe him. The man was lying. But that still doesn’t tell me where he was. The thing is, maybe I’m naïve, but I just don’t see Michael having an affair. God knows I love him, but the man’s not smooth. It took him forever to ask me out, and when he did, he turned beet red and was so awkward, and it was why I fell in love with him on the spot. And who else is going to put up with his constant blabbering about dental hygiene and the horrors of plaque.”
This time all three of us laughed.
“You have a point,” I said.
Sam finished her slice of toast and turned to me. She rested one arm on the back of the sofa. “This is what I need. I need you to find out who killed Mr. Sanjari so I won’t go to jail. I need you to find out if he killed his wife because I’m nosy and want to know, and I need you to find out what that husband of mine is up to. Do you think you can do that for me, Alex?”
I looked at my sister over the rim of my tea mug and smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 9
Of course I would find the killer and save my sister. The truth is she didn’t have to ask. I was already gearing up for my investigation. Last night while I sat in my bed drinking tea and munching cookies, and fantasizing about taking John for every cent he was worth and leaving him penniless and homeless, I used my iPad to send my friend Shirley Reynolds, a private investigator, an email asking her to find out all she could about one Victor Sanjari. I told her Sam’s life was on the line and she wrote back immediately saying she was on the case. Now all I had to do was wait for her reply.
“How badly do you want to find out what Michael’s up to?” I asked my sister, thinking that I could probably hire Shirley to do the deed. But did we really want to know? I needed to make absolutely sure my sister wanted the truth, wherever it might lead, before I talked to Shirley about it.
Sam took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I have to know. Maybe he’s sick and getting treatment and doesn’t want to worry me. It could be something innocent and I want to help, and if it turns out not to be so innocent, well, I g
uess I need to know that as well. Right?” She looked at me and then Meme for reassurance.
“You have to know. Whatever it is, you and Michael will deal with it, but you can’t if you don’t know. I hate to have Alex spy on him, but he’s not telling you much,” Meme shook her head.
“No, he’s not. Okay, Alex, do what you have to do, wherever it leads. But first, keep me out of jail.”
I gave my sister two thumbs up and then we said good-bye to our grandmother and went to our office. Sam promised to go talk with John later in the morning, but first she just wanted to get back to work.
It was only a little after seven when we walked into Always Prepared, but Millie and Marla were already there. We were all morning people, and it was another reason we all got along so well.
“Sam! I’m so happy to see you!” Millie grabbed my sister and gave her a big hug, while Marla reached over and gave Sam a kiss on the cheek. “If you need to sneak across the border into Rhode Island or Massachusetts, just let me know. I can hide you in my trunk.”
It was another reason we all got along so well—there was definitely an abundance of crazy in this office.
“I’m not out of the woods yet, but Alex is on the case, and thanks, Millie. I’ll let you know if I need your trunk.”
“Millie and I are here for whatever you need. Don’t you two worry about the office. We can handle everything. You just get this all sorted out because, no disrespect to your husband, Alex, but when the police get it into their heads that they found the killer, they’re not about to start looking for someone else.”
“You’re right, Marla, and that’s why I’m stepping in. Of course Sam didn’t kill anyone. As a matter of fact, I’m waiting for an email from Shirley with some background information on Mr. Sanjari, so if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go check on that.”
I left everyone in the reception area and went down the hall to our small kitchen. Our offices are housed in an older home in Indian Cove. We’ve converted the bedrooms into our offices, the living room is where Millie reigns with a little corner set aside for Marla, and there was a kitchen in the back all ready for us when we moved in.
I got another cup of tea and headed to my office. I answered a few emails and sent one to Millie regarding suggestions I had on some upcoming placements we needed to fill. I spent a half hour working on a contract extension that I then emailed to Sam and Marla for finalization. With those things out of the way, I checked my private email account and found one from Shirley.
Alex, haven’t seen you in a couple of months. Why don’t we meet for coffee this morning at Oceanic in Pirates Cove about nine? Give a call if you can’t make it.
I looked at my watch. Pirates Cove was the next town over along the coast. I grabbed my purse and took my untouched cup of now-cooled tea out to the lobby and used it to water the plants. They love a bit of Earl Grey.
“Looks like Shirley came through, so I’m on my way to meet with her now,” I said to Millie. “If you need me—”
“Call?” Millie asked. “You never have your cell on. Go. We can handle everything here. Let us know how everything’s going,” she shouted as I left the office.
Chapter 10
Oceanic was one of those trendy coffee houses that people seem to flock to on weekends. This morning, a weekday, seemed no different. It had quite a few people sitting around with drinks and laptops open, but I was still able to find a pair of comfortable chairs in a corner with a small table between them. They were situated right next to the fireplace, which thankfully was not lit. It wasn’t even nine yet and the day was already muggy. I hated turning the air on at my house, but if this kept up, it was going on and staying on until September.
I’m a New Englander through and through, but I could do without our summers. I’m an autumn and winter gal, and when June rolls around I want to go into hibernation. Of course, June is also the month John and I married. Was it only a year ago? It seemed like we had been together forever. Meme was right. John was the one for me, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t make him suffer from time to time, and thinking my sister was capable of taking a life was certainly reason enough to bring him a bit of discomfort.
Before Sam had come into my office yesterday morning, I had been looking into a romantic getaway to the Cape, but until I got my sister off of the Indian Cove Police list of ten most wanted, any plans for a second honeymoon had to be put on hold.
I looked up from my iPad when I heard the door of the café open. Shirley Reynolds saw me and waved. She asked me what I would like and a few minutes later she put a large iced tea in front of me and one for her.
“It’s so good to see you. What’s it been? A couple of months at least,” Shirley said.
The last time I saw Shirley was when my friends from Belgium, Annie and Gerard Willix, were visiting. John and I had met them on our honeymoon when John got caught up in a murder investigation, and felt it only fair to return in kind. Shirley had helped Annie and me solve the murder of a man looking for his biological daughter, and I hadn’t seen her since, but at least we had kept in touch via email.
“I guess it takes a murder to get the two of us together,” I said, while I tore the paper off my straw and stuck it in the tea.
“Sad but true. We live such busy lives.”
I gave Shirley the once over. “I like what you’ve done with your hair.”
The last time I saw Shirley her brown hair was going gray. I thought it looked nice on her, but now where the gray had been, instead were some nice ash blond highlights.
Shirley blushed. “I met a guy. Nothing serious, but I thought I’d freshen up my look a bit.
“Well, good for you! Anyone I know?”
Shirley had been widowed at a young age and left alone to raise her children and take over her husband’s private detective business. Now in her early fifties, she deserved some fun.
“I met him through my late husband’s sister, if you can believe that. She thought all these years of mourning was long enough and fixed me up with a friend of her husband’s. His name is Tom and he’s the owner of Outdoor Adventure Gear.”
“The company that makes those nice field bags and totes?”
“That’s right, among other things. You know it?”
“I love it. I have several of their bags and this one here is one of theirs.” I showed Shirley my ever-present cross-body bag that served as my purse.
“It’s early days right now, and we’re both busy, but we’ve gone out a couple of times and he’s a good guy. I just don’t know how much of my freedom I’m willing to give up. Plus, well, I haven’t been intimate with a man in forever. My boobs are in a totally different hemisphere than they were ten years ago. And what happens if I forget how to do it if and when we ever get to that stage?”
I laughed. “You’ll remember. You’ll have to keep me informed and I want all the juicy details.”
Shirley took a sip of her tea and then looked at me. “I can’t believe John could suspect your sister of murder. Especially with a nail gun. Yuk. Sam could kill with her stern look or a quick barb, but not a nail gun.”
“He’s relegated to the guest room until he comes to his senses. So, did you find out anything about Mr. Sanjari?”
“I did. The man did inspections for the county and he’s got some marks against him in his file. Don’t ask. I can’t reveal my source. But anyway, this profession seems to be tailor-made for taking bribes, and he’s been accused on more than one occasion of doing just that.”
“He made suggestions to my sister on the morning before he was killed that he might be able to sign off on her sunroom for something in return. That’s what they were fighting about. Though I’m not sure he was looking for money. I think he was hoping for something else.”
Shirley shook her head in a disgusted manner. “Good old boys club. A few slaps on the wrists and that seems to be it. He has a nice house, one of those gigantic gas guzzling cars, and a boat. His wife died from a fall, but I
guess it was suspicious enough that the Maine police talked to him on several occasions about it. No witnesses. No evidence that he actually pushed her, but considering that she filed for a legal separation several months before she died, I’d take another look at it. That and the fact that there was a half-million-dollar life insurance policy on her. The perfect crime, right?”
“But they got back together,” I said.
“Looks that way. No divorce, so maybe they kissed and made up, and then went and took out enormous life insurance policies on each other. Maybe it was a game. Whoever can kill the other one first, gets all.”
“So where do I start?” I asked.
“I’d talk with the dead wife’s sister. She was pretty vocal about her suspicions when Jenna Sanjari died. Made several calls to the Maine police, talked to a reporter. Here’s her name and address. I would have texted it to you, but you know, you don’t know how to do that.” Shirley gave me a big smile and I took the paper with a smirk. “I also wrote down the name of some guy named Gary Hachmeister. His name pops up a lot when you do a search on Victor Sanjari. Hachmeister builds custom homes. The big expensive kind. There’s also Mrs. Ruth Sanjari, Victor’s mother. Has a gambling problem. Maybe she thought a large payout from her daughter-in-law’s life insurance policy would help her pay off some of those debts.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate this. There’s something else I need to ask you and I’m willing to pay for your services, and I also understand if you say no.”
Shirley leaned back in her chair, holding her tea and playing with the straw. “Okay. What is it?”
“Sam thinks something’s going on with Michael. He’s away a lot, doesn’t say where he’s been, and yesterday when she was arrested I couldn’t get hold of him. It turns out she was spying on him, or at least trying to, when Vic Sanjari was killed. That’s why she wouldn’t tell the police. She was embarrassed to let them know she’s been sitting across from his office checking on him.”