A Fine Fix

by Gale Deitch

  Tears stung my eyes, and I swallowed the lump that had formed. I hurled myself at May, almost knocking her over. “I know you talked about helping us, but I never thought it would be this soon—or this much.” I stood back and regarded the others. “Thank you all so much. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this.”

  “Shuga, you can repay us simply by helping out when one of us is in trouble. And you know that’s gonna happen.” They all chuckled and nodded in agreement.

  “Of course we will.”

  Zach stood motionless. I had forgotten to tell him about May’s offer to help. This was a complete shock to him. He inched his way into the warehouse and walked along the shelving units stocked with supplies, running his fingertips along plates and pots and stemware. Then he turned to face everyone, his eyes and cheeks shining. “I have no words. Just—thank you.”

  “Check out the office,” May said, nodding in that direction.

  “You’re kidding.” I took Zach’s hand, and we headed up the four steps into the office.

  Perfectly clean. Tables and chairs and filing cabinets all back in place, police dust cleaned away. I opened my desk drawers. Neater than I’d left them. Files in the cabinets back in alpha order. Between the office and the warehouse, I’d expected a good week of cleaning for Zach and me. Instead, we were literally back in business.

  I picked up the phone. “All of you must be starving after working here all morning. I’m going to order some pizza. While we’re waiting, Zach and I will help out in the warehouse. It’s the least we can do.”

  “No you will not.” May held up her hand. “We’re almost finished and Johnny’s already got some o’ his delicious barbequed ribs smokin’ away nice and slow for us back at his place. Wanna join us?”

  “It’s tempting, but we’ve got lots to do this afternoon.”

  “Then you two get yo’selves off somewhere and put some decent food into this young man’s stomach. Nothin’ for you to do here.”

  Zach and I stopped to eat lunch at a new place that served wood-fired pizza. I ordered a large pie with basil, pine nuts and gorgonzola, then smiled as he devoured three huge pieces.

  “Outstanding,” Zach pronounced after his first bite. “You should have seen what they called food in that place. God, I hope that lawyer can get me off. No way I want to spend any more time in jail.”

  “Don’t worry. They’re going to catch the real killer soon.”

  “How do you know? Any ideas who it could be?” Zach’s eyebrows knitted together.

  “I’ve been doing a little sleuthing, and I see a few possible suspects. I’ve told Dan—I mean, Detective Goldman—about them, too. So I know he’s following up on my leads.”

  “What leads?”

  I paused. “Zach, I’m not going to tell you who or why these people are suspects. I think it’s better for you not to know. That way, you can answer any questions with total honesty.” I put my hand over his. “Just let me handle this. Okay?”

  Zach turned his hand palm up and grasped mine. “Trudie, don’t get in over your head with this. Don’t forget what someone did to our business—and to you. It might have been a warning.”

  His eyes shone with concern, and his hold on my hand lingered. We exchanged a quick glance, and I knew he was thinking about his declaration of love for me yesterday in the car.

  I gently slipped my hand out of his grasp. “Don’t worry. My plan is to pass any information I have to Goldman. Then he can handle it. I’ll be fine.”

  I wasn’t going to tell Zach about the threatening phone call I received in the middle of the night. He had enough on his mind.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I dropped Zach at his apartment, and headed off to see Mrs. Schwartz. After all, she had not only covered the attorney’s fees; she had paid the bail money to free Zach. I wasn’t sure why she’d been so generous, but I needed to thank her. I also hoped she could provide more clues as to who might have murdered her husband.

  Graciella greeted me at the door and led me to the patio off the kitchen where Mrs. Schwartz lounged in a white tank top and shorts, which showed off her burnished skin. She wore sunglasses, and spikes of platinum hair stuck out the top of her pink sun visor. She held a drink in one hand, and a cigarette poked out between two extended fingers.

  “Trudie, how nice to see you.” She put down her cigarette and drink and held out both hands to me. I bent to kiss her cheek. “Please sit down. Graciella, some iced tea, please, for our guest.”

  I still wore my purple power suit from the morning’s proceedings. I took off the jacket and laid it across the back of my lounge chair. Then I slipped off my sandals, put my feet up, and sighed. I hadn’t realized how frenzied my life had become until I actually had a moment to relax.

  “How are you doing, Mrs. Schwartz?” I couldn’t believe it had only been a little over a week since her husband’s murder. So much had happened.

  She nodded slightly and smiled at me. “I’m—getting along. It’s going to take some time. So, tell me. How did the hearing go this morning?” She sipped her drink, a watered down iced tea; watered down with vodka, most likely.

  Graciella placed my tea on a side table, and I took a big gulp before responding. “Everything went great. Mr. Bernstein’s son handled it well, and Zach is free, for now. Mrs. Schwartz, I must thank you for all you did for Zach—paying the attorney’s fee and the bail money. That was much too generous.”

  “No need to thank me, dear. I feel utterly responsible for his arrest.”

  “Responsible? Why?”

  “Well, if the two of you hadn’t been catering our party, Zachary never would have been arrested. Why the police would suspect such a nice boy of Melvin’s m-m-murd…, well you know, I just can’t conceive. He hardly knew the man. For my part, I know for sure that he is not to blame.”

  “Mrs. Schwartz, the day you sat Shiva, you tried to tell me something, but you were too—upset.” Limp as an overcooked noodle and passed out on the sofa was more like it. “I’m sure it was important. Maybe something you saw or heard. I don’t know what it was, but you indicated that you wanted me to know about it.”

  She took a sip of her drink and was silent for a few moments stared straight ahead toward the pool. At least the police tape had been removed, returning the patio and pool deck back to normal.

  I wondered if she’d heard what I’d said.

  She put down her drink and turned to me. “I think it has something to do with the brother.”

  “The brother? Mr. Schwartz’s brother?”

  She shook her head. “No. Allison’s brother.”

  “But Ally doesn’t have a brother.”

  “Trudie, you know Allison is adopted, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course. Her mother and father were just teens. So you and Mr. Schwartz adopted her.”

  “Yes, that’s right. But evidently, Allison’s birth father later married another woman and had a son.”

  “So Ally has a half-brother.” I wondered where Mrs. Schwartz was going with this. “She never mentioned him.”

  “She didn’t know about him until maybe a year ago. First, he wrote her a letter telling her that they had the same father, that he was her half-brother. Then, he called her to introduce himself. He was very personable, and Allison asked if he wanted to meet in person.”

  “Did they? Meet, I mean.”

  “No. Every time they picked a place and time, he didn’t show up. But the phone calls continued. Allison’s restaurant was doing well at the time, and she was very busy. He told her to think of him as her brother. He was happy about her success and would always be there for her. That was about the time Allison got bored with all the paperwork involved with running a restaurant, and hired a general manager, got a little too close with him, if you know what I mean. And you know how that ended up.” She raised her eyebrows at me expectantly.

  “He ran off with the profits. I remember.”

  She nodded. “That’s right.”
r />   “Well,” she continued. “I’d never seen Allison’s father so angry. Melvin was upset with her for allowing it to happen, for turning her back on the business after he had invested several hundred thousand dollars. She was so self-involved that she lost the restaurant.”

  Mrs. Schwartz lit another cigarette, took a drag and exhaled a long stream of smoke. “She begged Melvin to save the restaurant for her, but he wouldn’t do it. Insisted she needed to learn her lesson. If she wanted to be a restaurateur, then she would have to take full responsibility for its success—or failure.” Mrs. Schwartz shook her head. “It was awful. Allison didn’t speak to her father for months.”

  “What does any of this have to do with her half-brother?” I asked.

  “After her general manager disappeared, the brother called her. He said that he was going to make that guy pay for what he did.” Mrs. Schwartz shifted her body toward me and had to catch herself from falling off the lounge. “Allison said he sounded kind of scary. She told him over and over to let the police handle it. But he insisted he was her brother and he would take care of it.”

  The more Mrs. Schwartz talked about this unknown brother of Ally’s, the more I had the sensation that I’d left something burning in the oven. “What’s his name?”

  “His name…let’s see.” She stretched out on the lounge chair, a slight grin on her face. From the side, I could see behind her sunglass lens that she had closed her eyes.

  Uh, oh. I was losing her again. “Mrs. Schwartz?

  She turned her head to me and lifted her sunglasses, opening one eye. “Why Trudie. How nice to see you, dear.”

  “You were about to tell me Allison’s brother’s name.”

  “Oh yes. Steven. That’s it. Thteven.”

  “Do you know his last name?”

  “Of course. It was a private adopsun. We paid all of the mother’s hosp’al bills. Allison’s birth father came to see her at the hospital the day we picked her up. Ohh, little Allithon was such a cutie, li’l blonde withps.”

  Mrs. Schwartz began to tear up, her speech slurring more and more, and I was afraid I would lose her before she gave me all the information I needed. She picked up her napkin and blew her nose then pulled down her sunglasses and lay back in her chair.

  “Mrs. Schwartz, the birth father’s last name. What was it?”

  “Hith last name wath…Carter? Carson? No, it was Carver. Definitely Carver.”

  “So her brother’s name is Steven Carver,” I thought out loud. Some piece was missing. I knew I was getting close but just couldn’t get there, like trying to light the grill over and over, but it just won’t ignite.

  I swung my legs over the side of the lounge chair and leaned toward her. “Mrs. Schwartz, please don’t think I’m being disrespectful, but do you have any idea who might have killed your husband?”

  Lifting her sunglasses and perching them atop her sun visor among the platinum spikes, she turned to peer at me. “I’m not exackly sure,” she said, her speech thick as maple syrup. “But Trudie, dear, you are a thmart girl. You and Ally put your heads togetter, and I know you’ll figger it out.” Then she pulled the glasses down over her eyes and slumped back into her chair.

  She was right. The only person who could tell me more was Ally. I thanked Mrs. Schwartz again, though she didn’t seem to notice, and drove to Ally’s condo. I had some tough questions for her and wondered whether she’d be willing to give me some straight answers.

  “OH, IT’S YOU.” Ally peered through her partially opened door. She looked very young, her face clean and freckled without makeup and her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.

  “Can I come in for a few minutes? I’d like to thank you for getting that lawyer for Zach.” I spoke in calm, gentle tones as if I were poaching eggs, easing them into simmering water so the yolks wouldn’t break.

  She hesitated. “I guess so.” She turned and walked into her living room, leaving me on my own to follow her into the apartment and close the door.

  Ally stretched herself out on her sofa with her bare feet propped up and her arms crossed as if to say, “Go ahead.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you. The lawyer worked his magic, and with your mom’s financial help, Zach is free on bond.”

  “Thank my mother for that, not me.” She wasn’t going to give me an inch.

  “I did. I was just over there thanking her. But you’re the one who arranged for the lawyer, and I’m sure you were the one who asked your mother to post bail money for Zach.”

  “Contrary to what you think, Trudie, I do care about Zach. He’s always been there for me.” Her stare was intense and defied me to make any snide remarks about some of the trouble she’d gotten herself into.

  I cleared my throat. “Ally.” I paused, trying to choose my words carefully. “Listen, I’m sorry I came on so strong the other day. I’m not blaming you for your father’s death. But we both know Zach didn’t kill him. So maybe if we put together everything we know we can figure out who the real murderer is. Can I ask you a few questions?”

  “About what? You think I had something to do with it, don’t you?” She chewed on her bottom lip.

  “No, I don’t believe that.” It occurred to me then that, although I’d had questions about the cookie bars she’d made for Mr. Schwartz and about her relationship with Mr. Lewis, I really didn’t think Ally was capable of killing her own father, the man who had doted on her all her life, even if he hadn’t rescued her restaurant. “But I think you may have information that could lead us to the killer.”

  “You think I’m hiding something?”

  “I think you don’t realize that some things you know would be very helpful to solve this case—and might prevent another murder.” This time I was thinking of myself and my brush with doom the day before.

  “Another murder? Whose? And what information could I possibly have?” She uncrossed her arms and held them up in a questioning manner.

  “I—saw you yesterday, at the Hilton in Bethesda,” I hedged, ignoring her questions.

  Her head jerked up. “And?”

  “Why were you meeting Mr. Lewis at a hotel? What’s going on between you two?”

  Ally put her head back and laughed. Then her eyes widened. “You think I’m having an affair with Mr. Lewis? You’ve got to be kidding. He’s old enough to be my father.”

  “Why else were you meeting him in a hotel room of all places?”

  “Why not meet him in a hotel room? My tennis lesson was just down the street from there, and I needed to talk to Bob in private.”

  “Bob, is it?” I lifted my eyebrows.

  “Yes, that’s what I’ve always called him. He was Daddy’s partner, for God’s sake. And a good friend of the family who I’ve known my whole life.”

  “Why were you meeting him in private?” I persisted.

  “I’d been speaking with him for a couple of months about funding a restaurant for me. I had a new concept that I didn’t want overheard by big ears in a restaurant.”

  “Why not meet him here in your condo?”

  “And have his wife find out and think we were having an affair?” She rolled her eyes at me.

  “What would she think if she found out you were meeting in a hotel?” I rolled my eyes right back at her. “I’m not a detective, but if I was able to discover your secret meeting, Mrs. Lewis, or any PI she hired, certainly could have as well.”

  “You think she hired a private investigator to follow her husband?”

  “I have no idea. I’m just saying—oh, never mind. So you’re telling me that your rendezvous with Mr. Lewis in a hotel was a purely innocent meeting about him backing your new restaurant concept?”

  “Exactly.”

  I released my breath in a frustrated sigh and folded my hands in my lap. “Okay. New subject. Why did you book airline tickets for you and Zach to Toronto? That was the reason the police thought he was a flight risk and arrested him.”

  “Airline tickets to Toronto? I
didn’t book any tickets to Toronto.” She shook her head, her lips parted in surprise.

  “Yes, you did. The reservations were copied to Zach’s email, and they came from you,” I insisted. “They were charged to your American Express account.”

  “I didn’t make any plane reservations. Why would I want to go to Toronto?” Her quizzical expression was convincing.

  “To run away with Zach.”

  Ally’s mouth was open again, and she shook her head as if I was nutty as an ice cream sundae.

  “Well, someone made airline reservations for you and Zach,” I said. “And they did it from your computer; well, at least, from your email address.” For the first time, I wondered if someone was trying to frame Ally. Or Zach.

  Ally held up her hands and shrugged. Then she frowned. “Could someone be using my email account? Oh my God, and my credit card?” She stood up and began pacing. She didn’t know a thing about these airline tickets, I realized.

  “It sounds like it,” I said. “You’d better check your statement. And call your credit card company to reverse the charge and cancel the account. I’d probably change my email address, too, if I were you.”

  Ally smiled at me and shook her head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I miss you, Trudie. You always knew what to do when I had a problem. When you were around, life seemed so much simpler. I could always rely on you for good advice. Whatever happened to our friendship?”

  “I don’t know. I guess we both got busy with our careers.”

  “Do you think…?” She gazed at me shyly. “Could we be friends again?”

  I thought about this. Ally and I did have a good relationship as college roommates.

  “I was always envious of you, Trudie.”

  “Envious of me? Why? You’re gorgeous and thin and wealthy. What more could someone want?” I asked.

  “But you were the one with all the friends. Everyone at school liked you. You had this passion…about cooking. I would have loved to be passionate about something, anything. Even owning my own restaurant, something I’d always wanted, became tedious. It was never enough for me.”