by P. J. Tracy
‘Thanks, Jimmy. Be in touch.’
He tried for a smile, but it never quite made it to his lips.
As they walked through the kitchen, Magozzi noticed a plate of homemade cookies sitting on the counter, carefully wrapped in plastic, violated by a dusty layer of black fingerprint powder.
Dr Anantanand Rambachan was standing quietly, almost prayerfully, over Rose Kleber’s crumpled body. She was slumped facedown on the floor in a large circle of rusty brown, close to a blood-splattered telephone. Even Anant seemed utterly bewildered by what he saw, which made Magozzi’s heart sink, because if there was a person alive who could make sense of the nonsensical, it was Dr Rambachan. If he was having trouble with this, there wasn’t any hope for the rest of them.
He looked up and gave them a sad, gentle nod. ‘Detectives Magozzi and Rolseth. I am delighted to see you both again despite the circumstances.’
‘You’re always saying that, Doc,’ Gino said kindly. ‘I think we all need to go out for a beer sometime, break the cycle, you know?’
‘Indeed, Detective Rolseth, I do know.’
‘Good to see you too, Dr Rambachan,’ Magozzi said.
He reciprocated with a broad, white smile that did wonders to improve everyone’s mood. ‘Detective, you have obviously been practicing your Hindi, because I am hearing marked improvement in your accent since last we met.’
‘Yeah, well, those night classes really help.’
Dr Rambachan cocked a brow at him, then smiled again. ‘I think you are joking. Very good.’
And then he was all business, slipping on a pair of latex gloves and crouching next to the body. ‘I’m going to turn this dear lady over now, and I must warn you, it might be difficult to look at. She has been dead for some time, and I’m sure you know that blood pools where gravity takes it…’ – he searched their faces, and added – ‘and uncirculated blood eventually turns black.’
They knew it, and Anant knew they knew it, but even with the warning, Gino recoiled when he saw Rose Kleber’s splotchy, blackened face.
They watched and waited for about a thousand years while Dr Rambachan did the on-site, punctuating the silence with an occasional observation, but there was nothing particularly strange about any of it, except for the fact that someone had gunned down an elderly woman in cold blood, in her own home, while she was watching TV.
Gino, who’d never quite achieved Anant’s or even Magozzi’s level of comfort with corpses, started to fidget. ‘Where’s the cat?’ he finally asked. ‘Jimmy said he got a lot of cat hair. That must mean there’s a cat somewhere.’
Dr Rambachan looked up. ‘I have not seen a cat.’
‘Wonder if the family took it home? What if they forgot?’
Magozzi gave him a wry glance. ‘Gee Gino, I don’t know. It’ll probably starve to death. Better go look for it.’
‘That’s just what I was thinking…’
‘This is curious,’ Dr Rambachan mumbled, stopping Gino in his tracks just as he was about to make his escape.
The doctor pushed back onto his heels and pointed to the inside of Rose Kleber’s arm. ‘Take a look, gentlemen.’
Gino and Magozzi both got closer than either of them wanted to, squinting as they tried to make out the details of a marking that was nearly obliterated by discoloration.
‘It would appear that this lady was also in a concentration camp, just as Mr Morey Gilbert was.’
‘Damn,’ Gino said, shaking his head. ‘I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit.’
‘Detectives?’ One of the crime-scene techs stepped in from the kitchen. ‘Might be just a coincidence, but I thought you’d want to know.’ He held up a small address book with a faded floral cover. ‘She’s got Morey Gilbert’s phone number in here.’
12
Jack Gilbert was sitting in a lawn chair in the middle of the nursery parking lot, a cooler full of beer at his feet. Some customers actually took him up on his offer of free Bud, but most gave the man in the pink sunglasses and neon yellow shorts a wide berth.
Marty stormed over for the third time in the past two hours, but now he was dragging a heavy-duty garden hose behind him, brandishing the power-wash attachment like a gun. ‘Come on, Jack. Get up. Time to relocate.’
‘Don’t aim that thing, ’less you mean to use it,’ Jack drawled with a lopsided grin.
‘Don’t tempt me. Jesus, what the hell is the matter with you? You’re scaring the customers.’
Jack peered up at him from behind pink lenses. ‘I’m not scaring anybody. In fact, I’m probably boosting sales by ten percent. I’m telling you, you get somebody buzzed and they buy twice as much. See that fat guy over there, the one with the sweat stains down his back? He came to buy a few basil plants, but after a couple brewskies, I convinced the son of a bitch to buy a whole flat so he could make pesto. Best part is, I don’t think he knows what pesto is.’
‘Just what are you doing here, Jack?’
‘Well, gee, Marty, I don’t know. I always thought relatives were supposed to get together and support each other when they were grieving, but now that I think of it, that was pretty dumb since it sure as hell didn’t work that way the last time somebody in this family got murdered.’
Martin felt as if he’d taken a hammer to the gut. Every sober moment of every single day he saw his wife bleeding to death in his arms; but seeing it and talking about it were two different things.
Jack eyed his expression with bleary interest. ‘Christ, Marty, what do you think? That if we never mention Hannah was murdered she’ll be less dead?’
‘Shut up, Jack.’
‘Oh-h, I get it.’ Jack was gesturing with his can, sloshing beer all over the place. ‘Hannah’s another one of those things this family never talks about, because if you don’t talk about it, it never happened, right? Well fuck that. Fuck all of you, because Hannah happened. Hannah was here, and it’s too goddamned bad you all want to forget about her, because she was the only Gilbert worth a shit.’ He pushed his silly pink sunglasses down his nose and glared defiantly up at Marty. ‘And you’re not the only one who misses her.’
And that was the one thing about Jack you had to remember, Marty thought. He was loud, obnoxious, in-your-face, and possibly the most irritating human being on the planet – but he loved unconditionally, even though few ever loved him back – and Hannah he had loved most of all.
Marty let out a long-suffering sigh. ‘Where’s Becky?’
‘Becky, my wife? You mean the one no one in this family has ever met? Well, I think she’s getting Botox injections in her armpits today. Keeps you from sweating, did you know that?’
‘You know what I mean. Why isn’t she here with you?’
‘You mean like, loving wife supporting grieving husband, that sort of thing? Well, first of all we’re not talking, which precludes her being supportive in any way; and second of all, Lily would probably shoot her if she ever set foot on the property; and third of all, frankly, Becky just doesn’t give a shit.’
‘Oh. Sorry, Jack. I didn’t know it wasn’t working out.’
‘Hell, don’t be sorry, Marty. I got exactly what I wanted from this marriage. So did Becky, for that matter. You should see her new boobs.’ He popped open a new beer and drained half the can.
‘You sure you should be doing that, Jack? I thought you were supposed to be in court this afternoon.’
He shrugged. ‘No big deal. It’s just this stupid bicycle messenger who claims he got whiplash when a UPS truck hit him. Weasel-faced bastard. He sees deep pockets, and suddenly he broke his fucking neck.’
‘So you’re blowing off court? Jesus, Jack, you’re going to get yourself disbarred.’
‘They’re not going to disbar me. They can’t. I’m on grief leave. My father was murdered, for chrissake… man, that is just too bizarre, isn’t it? I mean, the guy was almost eighty-five and I kind of expected him to keel over one of these days, but Jesus. Shot in the head? Who could see that coming? So what
do you think, Marty? Got any ideas, any clues? Anything we can work with here?’
‘Just let the cops handle it, Jack.’
‘Well, hell, Marty, you are a cop.’
‘Ex-cop.’
‘Don’t give me that. Once a cop, always a cop. It’s in the blood, or something. I’ll bet that little gumshoe brain of yours is going about a hundred miles an hour trying to figure this out. So who do you think did it?’
‘I haven’t really thought about it.’
‘That is such bullshit.’
‘No, it’s not, Jack. I haven’t thought about it.’
Jack tried focusing on him for a long moment. ‘What the hell’s the matter with you? He was your father-in-law, for chrissake. Aren’t you at least curious?’
Marty took three seconds to examine whatever feelings he had left, and decided no, he wasn’t curious at all. ‘It’s not my job, Jack.’
‘Right you are, Marty. It’s not your job. It’s just your goddamned family, is all.’ He turned away, disgusted. ‘Christ. You’re even more fucked-up than I am.’
‘You want to ease up on the language a little, Jack? There are nice people here.’
Jack snorted. ‘You want to ease up on the holier-than-thou shit a little, Marty? There are smart people here, and they can see right through it… hey, you!’ He waved his beer can at a woman examining flowers at one of the outdoor tables. ‘Yeah, you in the tent dress! You want to stop fondling those pansies? And then come on over here, meet the biggest fuckstick on the planet.’
The woman gaped at him for a minute, then turned and hurried toward her car.
‘Okay, Jack, that’s it. You’ve got to get out of here.’
‘Fuck you, Marty.’
‘Goddamnit, Jack, Lily is ready to call the cops if you don’t get out of the parking lot. One last time, I’m asking nice.’
Jack finished his beer and crushed the can against his leg. ‘Listen, you tell Lily if she wants her son out of the parking lot, she can come out here and ask me herself. Otherwise, I’m staying right where I am until the beer’s gone.’
For all of his life, Marty Pullman had been a man who got things done, who saw things wrong, and made them right. That Marty Pullman would have grabbed Jack and jerked him out of the chair and carried him away bodily, if necessary. It made him feel a little strange to realize he wasn’t that man anymore, and probably never would be again. ‘You’re making this a lot harder than it has to be, Jack.’
Jack regarded him for a moment, then smiled. ‘Gee, really? And I always thought things like this were supposed to be a little hard, and all I’m doing is having myself a little wake, Marty. A little private wake for Morey Gilbert, the nicest goddamned man in the world, the man everybody loved, the man who loved everybody, except his son, of course. And isn’t it funny? I’m the only one who showed up. I mean, really, Marty, look at what’s happening here. This place shouldn’t even be open today, but here you all are, business as usual, life goes on, gee, think we can take out five minutes tomorrow to get him in the ground?’
Marty threw the hose down in disgust, grabbed a can from the cooler and stalked back toward the greenhouse. ‘I give up.’
Jack laughed, and then hollered after him, ‘So what else is new?’
13
For the first five minutes after they left the crime scene at Rose Kleber’s little blue house, Gino sat in the passenger seat like a normal person – out of respect for the dead, Magozzi supposed – but once they hit the parkway, he cranked down the window and somehow manuevered himself so that most of his upper torso was hanging out of the car. It looked uncomfortable, but his eyes were closed and he was smiling.
‘You look like a golden retriever,’ Magozzi said.
Gino took several gulps of fresh air. ‘Another hundred miles and I just might be able to get that smell out of my nose.’ He slumped back into his seat, suddenly depressed. ‘Shit. Now I feel bad. It’s not fair, you know? You die and it’s sad, and then to top it all off, you end up smelling so bad, people can’t even stay in the same room with you. Dead people should smell good so you can stand around and look at them and feel really rotten about what happened.’
‘I’m going to stand around and look at you and feel really rotten no matter how bad you smell, Gino.’
‘And I appreciate that.’
Magozzi turned into the nursery drive and nosed past the hedge into a jammed parking lot.
‘Well, would you look at this,’ Gino said. ‘The bereaved widow is open for business. Hey, is that clown in the lawn chair Jack Gilbert?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘Also looks like he’s getting seriously soused. This is going to be a lot of fun.’
Jack seemed genuinely happy to see them. ‘Detectives! I just tried calling you. Did you get him? Did you get the guy who killed my father?’
‘We’re still working on it, Mr Gilbert,’ Magozzi said. ‘We have a couple more questions for you and your family.’
‘No problem.’ Jack wiped the foam off his upper lip and tried to look sober. ‘Anything you want. Anything I can do. Ask away.’
‘Who’s Rose Kleber?’ Gino asked abruptly, watching carefully for a change in Jack’s expression, disappointed when he didn’t see one.
‘Jeez, I don’t know. Why? Is she a suspect?’
‘Not exactly. She lives in the neighborhood. We were wondering if she was a friend of your father’s.’
‘Beats me. Probably was, if she lives in the neighborhood. He knew just about everybody.’ He frowned hard and tried to steady his gaze on Magozzi’s face. ‘So who is she, guys? What’s she got to do with all this?’
‘She was murdered last night,’ Magozzi said.
Jack blinked, trying to process the information as it seeped through alcohol-soaked brain cells. ‘Jesus, that’s awful. Shit, they’re dropping like flies around here, aren’t they? So what are you thinking? Is there a connection? You think the same guy did both of them?’
‘She had your dad’s number in her phone book,’ Gino said. ‘It’s just one of the things we have to check out.’
‘Shit.’ Jack sagged back down into the lawn chair. ‘Half the people in the city have Dad’s number. He used to pass out cards at the soup kitchen, for chrissakes. The man was totally out there.’
‘Then again, for all you know, she could have been someone your dad saw every day, right?’ Gino asked casually. ‘Seeing as how you haven’t been around here much lately.’
Jack tipped his head thoughtfully to one side, and for a moment Magozzi feared it would fall off his neck. ‘Yep. You’re right about that. Did I tell you I’ve been persona non grata here for a year or so?’
Magozzi nodded. ‘You did. Yesterday. I thought that was kind of a shame. Hate to see rifts like that in a family. It must make this especially hard for you, losing your dad before you had a chance to patch things up.’
‘Nah. There wasn’t a chance in hell we were going to fix that.’
‘Really.’
‘I mean, it wasn’t like I didn’t take out the garbage or something, you know? Never could be what Pop wanted me to be, and like I told you yesterday, to top it off I married a Lutheran. That went over like a pork chop at a Seder dinner.’
Gino nodded sympathetically. ‘Sounds like he was a little hard on you, Jack, and I know just where you’re coming from. I could never please my father, either.’
Magozzi maintained a poker face. Gino’s father thought his only son walked on water.
‘No matter what I did,’ Gino continued, ‘no matter how hard I tried, it was just never enough for that man. Used to really piss me off.’
Jack raised his eyes in drunken disbelief. ‘Jesus, Detective, I’m an attorney. Give me a little credit. Did you actually expect me to fall for that load of sympathetic bonding crap?’
Gino shrugged. ‘Had to give it a shot.’
‘Well for what it’s worth, I didn’t kill my father, okay?’ He collapsed back onto the lawn cha
ir and closed his eyes. ‘Shit. You guys might want to step back a little. I think I might actually hurl.’
‘So who was she, this Rose Kleber?’ Lily was standing at the front window of the greenhouse with her arms folded, staring out at Jack, cluttering the parking lot with his lawn-chair and cooler, lying there like a stunned carp.
‘She lived over on Ferndale, Mrs Gilbert,’ Magozzi answered, ‘and a couple of things caught our attention. She was in the camps for one thing, just like Mr Gilbert.’ He saw Lily’s eyes close briefly. ‘And she had his name and number in her phone book.’
Marty was at the counter, rubbing at an old stain with his thumb. ‘Sounds pretty thin, guys.’
‘It is. Just something we’re checking out.’
Marty nodded absently, and Magozzi had the feeling he was barely interested, barely present.
Lily took a breath and turned away from the window. ‘People buy plants, Morey gives them a card, tells them to call if they have trouble with them. Do you have a picture? Maybe she was a customer.’
‘Not yet. We’ll get one to you as soon as we can. In the meantime, you don’t recall hearing the name?’
She shook her head. ‘Morey was the one who was good with names. Never forgot a name. Never forgot a face. Such a big deal people made over that, like he was giving them a present.’
Magozzi tucked away his notebook. ‘Do you have a customer list? A Rolodex, maybe?’
‘In the office in the back of the potting shed. But mostly it’s numbers I wrote down. Morey never needed to. He heard a number, he remembered it forever.’
‘Maybe we could take a look anyway, if it isn’t too much trouble.’
Back by the potting shed, they ran into the two employees Magozzi had talked to yesterday when they showed up at the impromptu memorial outside the nursery. They were tossing fifty-pound bags of fertilizer onto a wheeled pallet with a careless ease that made Magozzi long for his youth, but they straightened respectfully when Lily approached. They gave her shy, almost identical smiles, then turned to Magozzi and Gino.