“And you know all the lyrics to that song,” I said. “Impressive.”
“I know words to all songs,” he said soberly as though we were two conspirators discussing plans for a bank robbery.
“You know all of the songs in Bye, Bye, Birdie?” I asked, surprised.
“Dances too. I see once…” He snapped his fingers. “…and learn.” His eyes twinkled.
“Amazing.”
Henry bounded out of the kitchen as Lola rushed in the door.
“How are you? Are you hurt?” Lola asked, examining me.
Henry snapped, “Dodie, I need to see the final draft of tomorrow’s menu.”
“I’m fine,” I said to Lola, and pivoted to Henry who needed to get a grip.
“Time to let go, chef. Wilson has everything under control,” I said with more confidence than I felt. After several words to Wilson, and a demand that Henry enjoy himself tomorrow, I trailed Lola outside to her car.
“Are you really okay?” Lola asked, as she backed out of her parking space.
I surrendered to the luxury of her Lexus. I was loyal to my Chevy Metro, but after a day like this, Lola’s ride was soothing to my weary body. I reassured her that I was perfectly safe, that Timothy was checking out the brakes and missing fluid, and that all I needed was a glass of wine and a good night’s sleep. Lola agreed to join me for the nightcap.
We sat on the sofa in my living room, glasses in hand, shoes off. I’d recounted my trip to Creston, conversation with the kid in the deli, and escapade hiding under Ruby’s bed. Lola’s eyes expanded with each bit of information. Instinct told me to keep quiet about the newspaper clipping I’d pinched from Ruby’s nightstand.
Lola asked, “Who are these men?”
“I don’t know but I’m going to have a talk with Bill about them tomorrow.” When I hand over Ruby’s iPad.
The open windows invited the evening air and the comforting night song of the cicadas.
“Where’s Bill tonight?” Lola asked.
“Working late in the municipal building. What about Dale?”
“He said he has meetings with clients. All of them seem to be in the midst of financial crises.” She fluttered her arm dismissively and took a big gulp of her wine. “Dale’s so irritated and unpredictable lately. I’m beginning to think I was mistaken about him.”
“Meaning?”
“That he was serious boyfriend material,” she said.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Looked like the bloom was off this particular rose. Love was blind, despite the perspective of Great Aunt Maureen. She asked, on one occasion, if love was blind, why was lingerie so popular? I didn’t have a good answer.
“I’m staying off dating sites forever,” Lola said firmly.
“Hey, it’s not over ’til it’s over. Dale needs to get his head out of the world of finance and back into the theater universe. When the show is up again, I’ll bet you’ll have his full attention.”
“I hope he’s in a better mood for Wednesday’s brush-up rehearsal.”
We finished off the wine; Lola gave me hug, and told me again how worried she’d been. I thanked her and reminded her that’s what BFFs were for. I closed the door after she left, shut the windows, and headed to my bedroom. I grabbed my bag to remove the article I’d found in Ruby’s apartment. I silently bemoaned the fact that I was spending the night alone when my hand touched her iPad. I withdrew it and stared at Ruby’s name on the cover. What was it Penny said? Ruby was surfing investment sites. I opened the lid and stared at the keyboard. It wasn’t a brand new device. In fact, it looked well-used. I tapped on the Internet icon, and noticed that a password wasn’t necessary. I was curious about Ruby’s browsing history. You could tell a lot about a person by what they investigated on the Internet. I didn’t know how to access it. A light bulb went on…Pauli! It was too late to text him now, but first thing in the morning.
* * * *
I gasped for air, struggling to squeeze through an opening in a tunnel, sneezing nonstop. I panicked; afraid I’d never get out. Suddenly, I burst onto a highway like a rocket, running and tripping until I found myself in a car jamming my foot on an unresponsive brake. “Help!” I yelled. “I’m going to crash!” The car kept moving. I kept screaming until an older, gray-haired woman floated in front of me. She played a piano and laughed hysterically. “Get out of my way! I’m going to hit you!” I bellowed. She ignored me and continued to pound the keys.
I thrashed back and forth to stop the car and awoke with a jerk. My body was damp, my heart throbbing. I sat up, fighting for air—another scary nightmare—a mashup of my time under Ruby’s bed and the loss of my brakes. I lay down again, and plucked the sheet up to my chin. My subconscious was working overtime. What was so terrifying about the dream? It wasn’t the tunnel or the brakes: it was the old lady’s laughter. Ruby was hysterical at my expense…did she think my exploits on behalf of her history were ridiculous? If she were alive, she’d have choice words for me, sticking my nose into her past. I tried to picture her the last time we talked the night she died. She had the same caustic, mocking, honk of laugh as in my dream, asking if I was married, offering relationship advice. I didn’t care, I told myself. Ruby wasn’t here to stop me, and I didn’t intend to let the murder investigation stop me either. I “had a stubborn streak,” to quote Bill.
I hopped out of bed and snatched my cell phone from its charger on my bureau. I texted Pauli to see if he could meet me before he went to work at Shop N Go. Coffee Heaven in an hour?
I got into the shower to wash off yesterday’s grime and this morning’s nightmare, and reviewed my day—a meeting with Pauli, a visit to the Etonville police department to deposit the iPad and, I’d hoped, run into Bill. He had to be over his pique from my visit to Ruby’s apartment. After all, that’s what people in a relationship did, right? They got over things…
Pauli texted back that he’d meet me at nine. I dressed in a hurry, slipped into tan slacks and a green knit top that complimented my green eyes and auburn hair. It wouldn’t hurt to give Bill a reason to stare.
Pauli was already at Coffee Heaven looking like he’d been up late, his eyelids drooped, and one arm supported his head while his other hand texted.
“Hey. Sorry to get you out this early,” I said, and signaled to Jocelyn.
He snapped to attention. “No problem. Gotta be at the Shop N Go by ten. It’s coupon day and everybody in town, like, goes crazy.”
I could imagine. “I won’t keep you long.” I placed the iPad in front of him and lowered my voice. “I’d like to take a look at the browsing history.”
Pauli hunched forward. “Did this belong to…?”
“Right. But mum’s the word on that.”
“You two look like you’re doing some heavy duty business,” Jocelyn said.
I jumped back, leaving my arm to cover Ruby’s name on the lid of the notebook. “Hi Jocelyn. I’ll have my regular. Pauli?”
Pauli ordered a soda and two cinnamon buns—plenty of sugar to get him through the havoc of coupon day.
“Any word on the ‘house hunting ’?” I asked. Code for her pursuit of Walter.
“I might need to put in an offer soon.” She strolled away.
“So…like…uh…the iPad?”
I removed my arm and, in a flash, Pauli was tapping on the iPad keyboard. “Easy peasy if you, like, know what you’re doing,” he said confidently.
I clearly didn’t. Jocelyn brought our breakfasts and we munched on the buns. I checked email while Pauli worked. He flipped the iPad around so that I could see a list of the topics Ruby had browsed most recently.
“Wow, thanks Pauli,” I said, studying the fruits of his labor between sips of my caramel macchiato.
“Like, uh, is it there?” he asked.
“What?”
“Whatever you’re looking for.” He wiped icing
off his mouth.
I had no idea what I was looking for. “I’m not sure but I want to see what she was up to.”
“I’m checking on ‘Veronica Passonata’ on another search engine.”
“Thanks for taking the initiative! Let me know if you find anything.”
He blushed. “Yeah. Anyway…gotta bounce.”
“Between us…you should show up at the Bye, Bye, Birdie rehearsal tomorrow night.”
Pauli brightened. “Huh?”
“Let Janice know you’re still in the picture,” I said.
* * * *
I savored the last dregs of my coffee, and studied Ruby’s browsing history. Sure enough “investing” was first on the list, followed by the Greenburg Chronicle. Ruby obviously wanted to stay on top of hometown news. There were also searches for stock market analyses, investment opportunities, and articles on a piano competition won by a student at a high school in Ohio. Maybe where Ruby had taught decades ago. There were also some vegan recipes. That last was a revelation despite Penny’s disclosure about recipe sharing. It didn’t look as though anyone had made use of Ruby’s kitchen recently. I was about to close the iPad when I caught two searches at the bottom of the list: financial scams and investment fraud. It looked as though Dale had been advising her on investments, but what did these searches reveal and, more importantly, why had she done them? I glanced at my watch. It was ten-fifteen and I had to be at the Windjammer by eleven, which didn’t leave much time to see Bill.
Outside, the day was already humid, the sun hot on my face. We were expecting the temperature to nestle in the mid-eighties. I strode through the municipal building, down the hallway to the dispatch window where Edna was on duty. She removed her headset.
“Hey there Dodie, heard you had a run-in on the highway? Glad to see you don’t have a neck brace. Getting rear-ended is nothing to sneeze at. It could have been an 11-79…ambulance call.”
“Edna, I wasn’t rear-ended. My brake fluid leaked out and…” I gave up. “Is Bill in?”
Edna’s console lit up and she replaced her headset, holding up a finger to indicate I should wait a minute. “Etonville Police—” She paused. “Right here.” Another pause. “Copy that, Chief. 10-4.” Edna looked up from her console. “That was the chief. He said to wait in his office.”
“Got it.”
Edna leaned out the dispatch window. “Good luck at the Windjammer today. Wilson is going to have a lot on his plate. No pun intended,” she said and chuckled, jamming a pencil into her bun.
“Right.” I said good-bye, continued down the hallway past Suki’s desk, which was empty at the moment, and tentatively opened Bill’s office door. I had been in here by myself once before. On that occasion, I peeked into a file on his desk that was, strictly speaking, off limits. My intentions were good, and the information that I had seen helped crack a murder investigation. Today, I had no ulterior motives for being here.
I marveled at how organized Bill’s office was. The desk was empty—except for a neat stack of manila folders, a cup holder of pens and sharpened pencils, and a desk calendar. My attention wandered to a modestly full bookshelf. It had a Buffalo Bills pennant, and other memorabilia from his NFL days. On the wall behind his desk were team photos from his years in Cleveland. A door to my right opened to the room where Bill stored cartons of evidence from ongoing and past investigations. Yep, this place was a reflection of Bill’s uncluttered state of mind—so unlike my own.
I checked my watch again. Edna didn’t mention where Bill was, or what time he would show up, only that I was to wait in his office. My cell binged. It was Henry prompting me to call Cheney Brothers for the weekend’s vegetable and meat order. I removed the iPad and placed it on Bill’s desk. I remembered the article I’d stashed away yesterday. I pulled it out and unfolded it carefully. The paper gave off a musty odor. The article was brief, and described the death of a man from Greenburg, Indiana who had apparently committed suicide. Where had I seen this before?
My radar was on high alert. I hesitated. I might be crossing a line, but I couldn’t let this opportunity vanish—besides, neither Bill nor Suki were present to ask permission. I hurried to the evidence room. It was unlocked. I inspected the metal shelving and brown boxes. Everything was dated and titled. I saw evidence from previous murder investigations in Etonville—James Angleton, Antonio DiGenza, Gordon Weeks, and now Ruby Passonata. I lifted the lid of her carton. There wasn’t much to see. Her computer—bagged in plastic—and the scrapbook at the bottom of the box. I flipped to the last page of clippings. I found it—an article that was identical to the one I found in Ruby’s apartment. What made this story so special—that Ruby had kept two copies of it? I reread the clipping, looking for any clue to its importance. Bingo! Now I understood why Boris Yurkov’s recollection of Ruby’s fight with a young man named Otto rang a bell. The name of the man in the article was Otto too. I pieced the information together. Ruby argued with someone named Otto in 1962 at Maynard Institute. Then, most likely, the same man committed suicide in 1986 and Ruby kept the clippings…as what? A memento? A regret? I replaced the scrapbook, put the lid on the evidence box, and slipped back into Bill’s office where I sat down on the settee in a corner and tried to calm my whirling mind.
“You look frazzled,” Bill said, standing in the doorway, jacket and cap in hand.
“H-hi,” I said smoothing my slacks and adjusting my knit top.
Bill hung his cap on a coat hook, and draped his jacket on the back of his desk chair. “Apparently, I can’t leave you alone for one day,” he said and sat behind his desk.
“Look, I’m sorry about Ruby’s apartment. I had an instinct—”
“I’m talking about the highway incident. What exactly happened? I’ve heard everything from ‘you were rear-ended on State Route 53’—”
“Nope.”
“—to ‘you lost control of the steering and rebounded off a guardrail.’ Were you hurt?” he asked.
Any leftover irritation from yesterday was replaced with genuine concern. I was touched.
“I’m fine. Timothy said the brake fluid must have leaked out. When I pumped them nothing happened,” I said.
“That’s dangerous stuff. You could have had a life-threatening accident.”
“I coasted off the highway onto an exit ramp. Timothy is checking out the Metro,” I said off-handedly.
“You know, that car is getting old. It’s time to consider trading it in for a newer model.” He loosened his tie.
I gawked at him. “Give up my Metro? Not a chance. We’ve been through some tough times together.” I was thinking of several car chases…
“At least stay on top of the maintenance.” He sounded like Timothy. “What’s this?” He finally noticed Ruby’s iPad.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“This belonged to Ruby?” he asked, surprised. “Where did you get it?”
“Sunday night at poker, Penny mentioned that she’d seen Ruby on an iPad during rehearsal breaks. In fact, Penny caught her surfing investment sites.”
“So?”
“Yesterday, I saw Penny at the Windjammer, and she gave it to me. Said she found it in the piano bench. Not sure why Ruby would store it there.”
Bill looked wary. “What’s on it?”
“You’re the investigator,” I said. “I’m running late. I’d better scoot.”
“I’ll have the tech guys at the state lab look it over. Thanks.” Bill walked around the desk and joined me at the door. “One more thing. The reason I wanted to see you—remember the flyers we posted around Etonville and Creston last week? Hoping someone saw something the night of Ruby’s murder? We got a hit this morning. An eyewitness.”
“Wow! Someone from Etonville?”
“From Creston who happened to be in Etonville that night eating at La Famiglia,” he said wryly.
; Bill and I had a history with La Famiglia—one romantic-but-ultimately-dreadful dinner.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked quietly.
“This is strictly confidential,” he said.
“I know the drill.”
“This is preliminary, but the description of a man seen arguing with Ruby that night fits Dale Undershot,” he said.
“Oh no.” Could Dale have murdered Ruby? Would that explain his bizarre behavior lately, according to Lola? Lola! How would she take this news? “Where were they? What time was it?”
Bill cut me off. “That’s all I can say for now. Just thought I’d give you a heads up. We’ll keep this under wraps for another day but when the word gets out, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“Etonville will be beside itself—”
“Not to mention the cast and crew of Bye, Bye, Birdie,” Bill said.
Yikes! The show. “He’s not under arrest is he? I mean he can rehearse and perform this week, right?”
“For now, he’s a person of interest,” Bill assured me. “So no leaking anything to the ELT.” Bill kissed me on the cheek—on another day, I might have turned the other one…
14
I struck a hard bargain with Wilson. Normally, as master chef he would have final approval of the day’s menus. Knowing the intricacy of his small plates dinner specials, I persuaded him to simplify lunch. We’d focus on our standard sandwiches—three cheese, Henry’s special burgers, chicken salad—and cut the soup. My one concession was Wilson’s beet salad with avocado and fried goat cheese. He was insistent that it remain on today’s menu. I agreed since I loved beets prepared any way—pickled, roasted, curried in soup.
“Dodie, what’s the soup du jour?” asked a Banger sister.
“No soup today. We’re offering a special beet salad, though. It’s delicious. Want to try it?” I asked.
“I’m not fond of beets,” said her sister. “But they are good for digestion, I’ve heard.”
“I’ve eaten them instead of prunes,” said the other sister.
Whoa. I was dangerously close to learning all about the gastrointestinal habits of the Banger sisters. “That’s nice.” I headed to the kitchen.
Just in Time Page 16