“I’m a group member also, Mrs. Koffenburger,” Garrett interrupted Felix.
“And I’m his sigo,” Jerry stated defiantly, his eyes mischievous behind his glasses. “His significant other, his life partner.”
But my aunt wasn’t surprised or troubled by Garrett and Jerry’s relationship. She’d probably spotted it the minute they came through the door. In fact, she was probably planning their wedding, too.
“Is there any reason I should suspect any of you four?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” Garrett said solemnly, looking up at the ceiling as if it might answer the question more fairly.
“Hey, wait uno momento here,” Felix objected, bouncing on the seat between us. “You think they’re going to admit anything?”
“No,” my aunt replied stoutly. “So why don’t we just move on to the other possibilities?”
Felix glared at her, obviously confused by her logic.
“Four other members of the group,” Wayne began. “Ted Kimmochi—”
“Ha!” Felix barked. “Hanky-panky Ted. Wonder what his wife, Janet, would do if she found out about his extracurricular bouncy-bouncy? Huh-huh? That woman’s meaner than a camel with a bladder infection, man—”
I whirled my head around to glare at Felix.
“How’d you know about Ted, anyway?” I demanded. “Only the group members—”
“I’ll give you a friggin’ clue,” he told me. “Maybe two clues. A big, square auto who’d like to cut off his ear.”
“Van Gogh,” Wayne said and sighed. I thought I heard Jerry chuckle. “Van.” So much for group confidentiality. First, Isaac Herrick, and now Van Eisner.
“Yep,” Felix agreed cheerfully. “The Van man himself. He’s almost as busy spilling everyone’s—” Felix lowered his voice melodramatically—”worst secrets as he is doing recreational chemicals. Guy’s looney tunes, if ya ask me.”
The room was silent. The phrase worst secrets seemed to thrum in the air, chanting in our ears and kicking us in our stomachs. Except for Aunt Dorothy; she just tilted her head, bobbing her white curlicues like a bird. Of course, she didn’t know what secrets Van and Felix were talking about.
Garrett cleared his throat.
“Ted has told me that he isn’t going to see Belinda anymore,” he announced. “And I believe him.”
“Belinda is the woman who…” I didn’t want to finish the sentence in front of my aunt.
“Yes, Belinda was the teacher at the tantra and bondage seminar Ted and Janet attended, but Ted—”
“Bondage seminar?!” I gasped. Then I looked at Wayne. He didn’t look back. He’d known about this!
“Ted fell in love with his teacher,” Wayne whispered, eyes lowered.
“Teacher?” I repeated. “I thought you said he met her at Spirit Rock.”
“He did, and then he and Janet took her class…”
“Belinda is a dominatrix,” Jerry supplied. There was no question that his eyes were laughing now, even if the rest of him wasn’t.
“The one with a whip?” I bleated.
Jerry nodded. “Actually,” he stage-whispered, as if someone might be listening at the door, “I don’t think they really use whips. Just a lot of fantasy. Whoop it up and then go home with your mate for some, um…” He looked at my aunt and his speech faltered.
“Marital experimentation?” she suggested mildly.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jerry said, his round face flushing. “Mind if I get a glass of water, Kate?”
I nodded, remembering Jerry’s diabetes. Was his thirst due to his illness or to a need to be away from Aunt Dorothy’s eyes? I wanted to avoid her eyes, too. My mind boggled at the idea of Ted and Janet experimenting at anything, much less fantasy bondage. For a moment, though I could picture Janet with a whip. But tantra was supposed to be spiritual, wasn’t it? Tantra and bondage? The two words didn’t belong in the same sentence, much less the same seminar. But then, maybe I didn’t understand. I wanted to ask for more details. But I forced my mouth closed. This wasn’t getting us any closer to finding Steve’s murderer.
“So,” my aunt’s voice cut through my tangled thoughts. “Wayne, Garrett, and Ted are group members. Kate, Jerry, and Janet are significant others?”
I nodded.
“Who else?” she prodded.
“Van Eisner,” Felix supplied. “The man is some kinda sleaze-ball, if ya ask me. And is he baked on chemicals or what? No friggin’ significant other for him, man. He’s not even serially monogamous. And that guy gets more humma-humma than—” Suddenly Felix stopped and turned to Dorothy as if he’d forgotten her, closed his mouth temporarily, then turned back to Wayne and started over. “Just a warning, man: Van’s a druggie. He’d turn in your whole group for mass execution in exchange for a free stash license.”
Wayne wriggled his shoulders. The truth can make your muscles tight instead of setting you free.
“And Isaac Herrick and Carl Russo are group members.” Garrett finished the list.
“Isaac Herrick?” Dorothy said, her eyes widening in her wrinkled face.
“Nasty old geek,” Felix told her glumly. “Wouldn’t tell me a friggin’ thing.”
An image of Isaac Herrick’s alcohol-reddened face flashed through my mind, and I smiled. Maybe Isaac truly had been sorry about breaking confidentiality with Captain Wooster. Or maybe he was just tweaking Felix. Either way, I liked him all the better for it.
“Helen Herrick’s his wife,” Jerry Urban put in, crossing the entryway from the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand.
“His sigo,” Aunt Dorothy said, smiling to show she’d learned a new word.
Jerry smiled back.
“Which leaves—” my aunt closed her eyes to remember—”Carl Russo.”
“Yeah, Carl Russo,” Jerry agreed. Then he shook his head. “I worry about Carl. The guy never has any fun. He’s so uptight about that kid of his; that’s all he thinks about.”
“Carl has a son—Mike,” Wayne explained. “Mike’s gotten in a little trouble, and Carl’s concerned about him.”
“Children can be difficult,” Aunt Dorothy said, smiling my way.
I felt my cheeks go hot. Even in their advanced forties, some children can be difficult for their poor mothers, was what I heard Dorothy saying. Maybe she knew I didn’t agree with my mother about a formal wedding. For an instant, I was sure I was right.
Then I shook my head to clear it. Dorothy’s comment might have meant anything. And we were here to solve Steve Summers’ murder, not to talk about weddings.
“So who do you think the murderer is?” Dorothy asked.
There was silence all around. Even Felix didn’t offer an opinion.
“Well, then,” Aunt Dorothy suggested cheerily, “perhaps we should all think on it for a while.”
Garrett and Jerry took her words as their cue for an exit. Wayne patted the two men on their respective shoulders as they left. And then we turned to Felix. How rude could we be in front of my aunt?
I was just opening my mouth to test the limits when Felix leaned back and began talking.
“Been reading the Cortadura police reports,” he said casually.
I shut my mouth.
“Pretty friggin’ interesting reading, ya know what I mean?” he went on.
I nodded. Wayne sighed and sat back down on Felix’s other side.
“So, any whiz-bang guesses what they say?” he taunted.
I shook my head.
“You wouldn’t wanna pump your compadre for a little info, now would ya?” he continued. “A little scoop for friendship’s sake?”
“No need to pump,” Wayne growled. His voice was deep enough to raise the hair on the back of my neck, and I was on the other side of Felix. “Tell us now.”
“Hey, man!” Felix squealed, flattening himself against me to get away from Wayne. “No reason to go ape-bleep about it. I’m gonna tell you.”
“That would be nice,” Aunt Dorothy chirped.
>
Felix swallowed and resumed his casual posture. He was so artificially relaxed, I thought he might shatter if someone tapped him. My finger raised to his shoulder to test that theory, but I pulled it back. I did want to know what was in the reports, after all.
“Van Eisner has a prior drug possession conviction,” Felix muttered sullenly. I guess Wayne had taken the fun out of torturing us. “If he gets popped again, Van the man could do serious time.”
“Oh, my,” Dorothy commented.
Felix brightened. “Isaac’s got a DUI—”
“A DUI?” Dorothy questioned.
“Driving under the influence, man.” Felix pantomimed a bleary-eyed Isaac with one hand on the wheel and the other sipping what might have been a martini. It was actually pretty funny…but would have been funnier if it hadn’t been Felix.
“Then there’s the kid, Mike Russo,” Felix went on. “Vandalism. Big friggin’ deal, huh? Everyone’s worried the kid’s going to hell in a hand basket, and all he’s done is spray-painted a couple of buildings.” He shook his head. “Not a biggie, if ya ask me.”
I kept my eyes straight ahead. If no one had told Felix about Mike’s unreported joy-riding, I didn’t want him to hear it from me.
“And, hey,” Felix said, looking at Wayne first, and then at me. “You two are gonna love this one. Guess who got caught with sticky fingers twenty years ago?”
“I don’t know, Felix.” I forced the words out as politely as possible. “Who?”
“Janet McKinnon-Kimmochi, that’s who. What a trip! I wonder how her clients would feel about having a friggin’ ex-shoplifter for a financial advisor?”
“Janet?” I asked, dumbfounded. Bondage and shoplifting? I was getting a little confused about Janet McKinnon-Kimmochi. In fact, I got so lost in the series of images that flashed through my mind that I missed part of what Felix said next.
“…something about Carl Russo, some kind of record in another state.”
“For what?” I asked.
“I don’t know yet, okay? Jeez Louise, even my sources don’t include New Jersey.”
“Anything else?” Wayne prodded.
“Yeah-uh,” Felix replied, drawing out the word as if to tease us.
“Now!” Wayne ordered from somewhere deep down in his throat.
“Fine, fine. Keep cool, Big Guy,” Felix backpedaled. “Okay, the best poop of the evening is…”
He waited for prompting, then turned to Wayne, took in his glare, and went on without a drum roll.
“Jerry Urban used to be a race car driver.”
“And a car was used as the murder weapon,” Aunt Dorothy finished up for him.
“Don’t have to be a race car driver to hit and run,” Wayne pointed out.
“Yeah, but it couldn’t friggin’ hurt.” Of course, Felix had managed to get the last word on the subject.
“You know, Katie,” Aunt Dorothy began. “I’d like to talk to some of these, well, friends of yours. Isaac—”
The phone rang before she could plan her strategy verbally. I wondered if our think tank had unleashed a sleuthing monster in my aunt.
“It’s Van,” I heard the voice say from the answering machine in my office. “For God’s sake, if you’re there, pick up”
I beat Wayne off the couch and to the phone. I didn’t want him to deal with the Benedict Arnold of the Heartlink group until Felix was gone from the premises.
“Hi, Van,” I answered casually, all too aware that Felix and Aunt Dorothy were within hearing distance. But Dorothy was talking again by the time Van responded.
“Kate, is that you?” he asked. His voice was shrill.
“Yes,” I answered, keeping it short.
“Hey, is Wayne around?”
“Busy,” I told him.
“Look, I gotta talk to somebody,” Van said. I guessed I was going to be that somebody. His words picked up speed. “Do you think the cops know about my…um…”
“Stash?” I finished for him.
“Yeah, that,” Van answered.
“I have no idea,” I said honestly. “Why are you so worried?”
“My house, it looks different!” His words were pinging against my eardrums like hail now. I held the receiver away from my head. “Or maybe it doesn’t. But I can’t remember. I’m really freaked. What if they’re looking for…”
“Your drugs?” I tried to help out.
“Don’t even say that over the telephone!” he screamed. “They’ve probably got it bugged. I don’t get it. I just want to have a little fun. I don’t want to hurt anyone…”
I thought of all the information he’d given to Felix.
“Why don’t you just flush the you-know-what?” I suggested coolly.
Van hung up the phone. I just hoped he was running to carry out my advice. But I doubted it.
I listened to the dial tone for a moment and then hung up the receiver. The phone rang again immediately.
I picked it up, angry now.
“Listen, Van,” I said. “You want help, how about you try giving some—”
“Kate?” a voice said over the phone. It wasn’t Van’s. It didn’t say much for my mental state that I didn’t recognize the voice at first.
“Um, hello,” I tried.
“Kate,” my mother ordered. “Let me talk to your Aunt Dorothy. And right this minute.”
- Eleven -
I had Aunt Dorothy on the phone for my mother in less than a minute. My aunt didn’t seem too upset to be torn away from Felix Byrne’s company. Or maybe it was the panic on my face that motivated her. Whatever it was, she excused herself gracefully and stood from the hanging chair with a movement that might have been practiced for years. Then she walked to the phone as I thought of a trio of warnings: Don’t tell Mom about my suggestion of black as the color scheme for the wedding; don’t tell Mom about my friends, especially Felix; and please, oh please, don’t tell Mom about the murder. But Aunt Dorothy had spoken into the receiver before I could give voice to even one of my warnings.
So I stood across the hall from my aunt and stared, hoping she would see the plea in my eyes to withhold information from my mother. If nothing else, though, I was positioned well for eavesdropping.
“Now, Grace,” I heard Aunt Dorothy protest.
My shoulders tightened.
“Everything is just fine,” my aunt said. My shoulders loosened a thread.
“Van?” she trilled. I opened my eyes wider. I hoped I looked like a cocker spaniel, but I probably looked more like some species of fish. “Oh, dear me, I don’t think I actually know anyone named Van, dear.”
Cool, I saluted my aunt internally. And she was even telling the truth. She didn’t actually know Van Eisner.
“Oh, just fine,” she said in answer to some unknown question. “You’ve got to stop worrying, Grace. Wedding or not, Katie’s a good girl, a sensible girl.”
I blushed and lowered my eyes.
“He’s a very kind and good man,” she went on. “Just perfect for Katie.”
I turned and saw Wayne blushing now. So, he’d been eavesdropping, too.
“Oh, Katie’s chosen her colors,” I heard her say, and whipped my head back around. Dorothy grinned at me. “Yes, Grace. You just take care. There is absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Finally she said goodbye to my mother.
After Aunt Dorothy placed the telephone receiver back in its cradle, she crossed the hall and winked at me. I took two steps and threw my arms around her, hugging her way too tightly. But I couldn’t help the intensity of my embrace. She’d done it! She’d finessed my mother, something I’d never been able to do. She hadn’t mentioned murder, and even the wedding plans sounded like they were proceeding normally when she spoke. And, best of all, my aunt thought Wayne was kind and good. I gave her an extra squeeze, and then let her go for fear of crushing her fragile body. I didn’t want to send her home with broken ribs.
“You always were my favorite aunt,” I admitted impuls
ively.
Aunt Dorothy laughed, and I heard the sound of chimes.
Then I realized that the doorbell was ringing.
Wayne reached the door before I did and opened it.
Laura Summers crossed the threshold and gave Wayne a hug that made my embrace of Dorothy seem nonchalant. Felix’s eyes widened as Laura held on to Wayne like a life raft. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that Laura was a grieving widow.
When she finally let go, she looked into Wayne’s eyes and murmured, “Is there anything new?” Hers was a husky murmur, not a pathetic one like some people’s. Like mine.
I looked away, and my eyes caught Felix’s. His eyebrows were raised, and he was actually licking his lips. Of course! He probably hadn’t been able to interview Laura Summers yet. Damn.
“Laura,” I intervened just as Wayne said, “Don’t think so.”
Laura turned to me, her eyes focusing with apparent difficulty.
“This is my aunt, Dorothy Koffenburger,” I said with a nod at my aunt, who was no longer smiling. “And this is Felix Byrne, a reporter from the Marin Mind.”
Laura’s eyes focused and then narrowed in Felix’s direction.
“Good to meet you,” Laura said brusquely. And then she stepped forward to take Dorothy’s hand in hers. “And it’s so good to meet Kate’s aunt,” she added with more enthusiasm. “I’m Laura Summers.”
Dorothy shook Laura’s hand, a sympathetic half-smile on her face.
Felix jumped up from the couch.
“Hey, man, this is great!” he told Laura. “You are one whiz-bang assemblywoman! Been talking to my amigos, Kate and Wayne, about your tragedy. You got my friggin’ sympathy, man. Listen, you ever need to talk—”
“Quite,” Laura responded, cutting him off. She turned to me and gave me a short hug, apparently all hugged out after Wayne. “Kate, Wayne, I wanted to let you know that Steve’s funeral will be on Saturday…” Her voice faltered. She pulled out a hankie and held it to her face.
I turned away, embarrassed to be a witness to her grief. Felix stared at her like a deer spotting an uneaten rosebud.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dorothy said, her voice low and respectful. Laura looked up as if really noticing Dorothy for the first time. “I lost my husband not too long ago. I know there’s no way to compare experiences, no way to say the right words. But if you need anything at all, please ask.”
A Sensitive Kind of Murder (A Kate Jasper Mystery) Page 12