by Elaine Viets
Helen choked on her white wine.
“What’s got into you?” Margery asked.
“Nothing. I’m tired. It’s after ten. I hauled my clothes over here and cleaned my apartment for Kathy and her family.”
The shock of finding Mireya’s body was also taking its toll, but Helen didn’t mention that. Her brain felt stuffed with sawdust. Little bits seemed to ooze out her ears. Her eyelids were heavy.
“You’re lying,” Margery said.
“I’m exhausted,” Helen said. “I’d like to take a shower, then go to sleep.”
“Suit yourself,” Margery said. “But I will find out what’s going on.”
“I told Phil about your renters in 2C. I think they’re crooks.”
“Don’t change the subject on me, Helen Hawthorne,” Margery said.
“I wanted to give you a heads-up, that’s all,” Helen said
“Normally, I don’t appreciate you two butting into my business. You are both prejudiced against any renter in 2C. But if you can find a way to get rid of those buzzards, I’ll be happy. I don’t want them in my apartment.”
“I don’t want them at our wedding,” Helen said.
“So don’t invite them.”
“They’ll show up, anyway, drink our beer and sneer at our guests,” Helen said. “I hated how they treated Elsie. If we throw them out at the wedding, it will cause a scene.”
“Why do you and Phil think those guys are crooks instead of plain rude?” Margery asked.
“Elsie says she knows them,” Helen said. “She says Josh and Jason are working on her neighbor’s roof, and the neighbor gave them money. She’s thinking of hiring them, too. Phil is going to check them out tomorrow, after he orders the tuxes.”
“That’s all you’re going on?” Margery said. “You’re relying on Elsie?”
“Yes. Elsie dithers a little, but she’s not stupid.”
“She is pretty gullible,” Margery said.
“She’s too nice, if that’s a fault,” Helen said. “I’d feel safer if Phil checked out Jason and Josh. Do you have Elsie’s address?”
“I’ll look it up now,” Margery said.
Helen tossed the Marlins cap in the trash while her landlady looked through her address book.
Margery handed her an address written on a piece of paper. She spotted the cap in the wastebasket. “I’m glad you’re throwing that out. It doesn’t suit you.”
“That’s what I thought,” Helen said.
“Maybe your nephew would like it,” Margery said.
“He’s a St. Louis Cardinals fan,” Helen said. “Besides, I found this cap. I have no idea who wore it before me. What if it was a kid with head lice?”
“Would you mind washing your hair before you use my pillow?” Margery asked. “What time do you go into work tomorrow?”
“I don’t have to be at the salon until ten o’clock. I’m exhausted. I’d like to turn in. Thanks again for putting me up.”
“No problem,” Margery said. “I just want to see you two safely married.”
“Me, too,” Helen said.
Helen showered and washed her hair, then tossed and turned for the next three hours. A slide show from Mireya’s town house of horrors played in her head. Helen saw the ransacked kitchen. The bloody sink. The beaten body in the brass bed. Again and again, Helen saw herself sneaking out of the town house in her painted mustache. She imagined herself being arrested by the police, with the bright lights of the interrogation room. The lights seared her eyes and the police wouldn’t turn them off.
Then Helen realized that wasn’t a bright light. It was summer sunshine. She glanced at the bedside clock: 8:02.
Helen got up, washed, and dressed in her work clothes. She followed the fragrant smell of hot coffee to the kitchen. Her landlady handed her a steaming mug.
“Phil’s out by the pool,” Margery said. “I assume you’ll want to talk to him. Would you like eggs and toast for breakfast?”
“No food, thanks,” Helen said. “I’m not a breakfast eater. I’ll just pour myself some coffee.”
Helen kissed Phil good morning and said, “I hope Saturday is this nice for our wedding.”
“The weather is supposed to be clear,” Phil said, “but it may be hotter.”
“How was your drink with Cal?”
“Fine,” Phil said. “He’s an entertaining guy. He’s going with me at eleven this morning. Peggy says her boyfriend has his own tux, and he’ll be happy to escort her.”
“Good,” Helen said. “Some dates panic at the thought of going to a wedding. They’re afraid it may be catching. Margery gave me Elsie’s address.” She handed the paper to Phil.
“It’s only a few blocks away. I’ll go there now,” Phil said. “The guys’ truck is gone, so I assume Josh and Jason are working now.”
“I’ll finish my coffee and stare at the pool until I go to the salon,” Helen said.
Phil was back by nine o’clock, roaring mad. “Those two creeps are ripping off widows.”
“What? Did you see them?”
“No,” Phil said, pacing up and down the pool deck. “They weren’t around. I want to beat the little bastards to a pulp.”
“Easy,” Helen said. “I don’t want you in jail on our wedding day. Sit down and tell me what happened.”
Phil sat, but he could barely contain his fury. “Elsie has a neighbor who lives alone. Mrs. Berger is eighty-two years old. Her husband has been dead for a decade, and they have no children. Her roof was leaking and the water had ruined her bedroom ceiling. Josh and Jason said they’d fix the roof for two thousand cash, which was a lot less than any other estimate she got. They called it a special senior discount. They got the job done quickly, according to Mrs. Berger. She gave them the money. Then we had that downpour Monday morning and her roof still leaked. I climbed up there—”
“You actually got up on the roof?” Helen said.
“Of course. How else could I see what they did? Josh and Jason hadn’t fixed a thing. Mrs. Berger’s house has one of those white tile roofs you see here in Florida. All they did was paint over the leak and take the poor lady’s money.”
“So they got two thousand cash for pouring a little paint on a roof?” Helen said.
“That’s it,” Phil said. “They hung out on the roof for a couple of hours, spread the white paint around and collected their money. Nice, huh? I went looking for the creeps, but they weren’t in the area.”
“But we know where to find them, don’t we?” Helen said.
“Do you have to be at work right now?” Phil asked.
“I’ve got a little time. It’s only nine ten. Let’s go see Margery.”
Their landlady was outraged. She took her key, marched upstairs to apartment 2C, and threw open the door.
“Look at this place,” Margery said. “It’s a train wreck.”
“Stinks like a locker room,” Phil said.
Dirty T-shirts, paint-stained cutoffs and moldy towels littered the floor. Grease-stained pizza boxes were stacked three deep on the couch. The TV clicker sat on a slice of pepperoni pizza.
“Look at my lampshade!” Margery said.
Thick white socks were drying on the shade.
“An old bachelor trick. Saves spending money on a clothes dryer,” Phil said. The laughter died in his throat when Margery and Helen glared at him.
“They’re out of here today,” Margery said. She dragged two suitcases and a gym bag out of the hall closet.
Phil and Helen threw Josh and Jason’s belongings into the bags. Helen delighted in wrapping their toothbrushes in a pair of dirty socks.
Margery searched the apartment. “Aha!” she shouted in triumph. “I found cash in the freezer.” She pulled out a plastic bag and started counting the money. “Five thousand dollars.” Margery helped herself to all but a hundred dollars. “That should get them back to Maryland,” she said.
When the three bags were packed and set by the door, Helen said, “Wha
t do we do now?”
“You go to work,” Margery said. “Phil, you and Cal have to order your tuxes. I’m going to wait here until those two birds come home. I expect I’ll see them between three and four o’clock. That’s when they turn up at my pool, sunning themselves like the snakes they are.”
“I should be back by then,” Helen said.
“Me, too,” Phil said. “Helen, you want Cal and me to get blue polyester tuxes with butterfly bow ties, right?”
“It will shave years off you,” Helen said. “You’ll look just like my junior prom date.”
She kissed Phil and was out the door. This morning, the salon was infested with vultures who gossiped just as much as the regulars. Two women from Moberly, Missouri, were typical.
“Do you think anyone back home will recognize me with my new hairdo, Sally?” She patted her chic blond style.
“You may need a new wardrobe to go with it, Darleen,” her friend said.
“I think I do. But I’ll buy carefully,” Darleen said. “Did you see that outfit Betty wore to church last Sunday? It was too short, too tight—”
“And way too young,” Sally finished. “She’s stew meat who thinks she’s prime rib.”
“That lady is way past her prime,” Darleen said. “Nobody has seen Betty’s ribs in ages. You’re too tasteful to dress like a two-dollar whore.”
Sally lowered her voice. “Do we have to tip the girl who brought us that water? We’re never coming back here.”
“We should at least get a glass of water for what they charge,” Darleen said. “I’m not made of money.”
Neither am I, Helen thought, and wished she’d dumped the ice water in their laps. Darleen gave her a measly dollar when she and Sally left on their shopping expedition.
“Tomorrow will be better,” Ana Luisa said to Helen. They watched the women leave without regret. But more vultures flocked to the salon.
Helen was relieved to be home by three thirty. She knocked on the door to 2C and found Phil and Margery sitting on the couch.
“You two look grim,” Helen said.
“Not as grim as that shower stall,” Margery said. “It’s black with mold. They’ve turned this place into a toxic waste dump.”
“I’ll help you clean it up,” Helen said.
“No, you won’t,” Margery said. “I’m hiring someone. I may have to call in the EPA.”
They heard a key rattling in the lock. Phil went to the door, crossed his arms and straightened his shoulders, which made him look even taller. Margery and Helen stood behind him.
“Hey, dude, what are you doing in our place?” Josh asked.
“It’s my place,” Margery said, fury flashing in her eyes. “I didn’t realize I was renting to a pair of swindlers. Ripping off an old woman. Shame on you. How could you cheat poor Mrs. Berger?”
“Hey, we didn’t rip her off. We fixed her roof.”
“You painted it with cheap latex,” Phil said. “I climbed up there and checked.”
“You’re out of here,” Margery said. “Pick up your luggage and leave.”
“Hey, you can’t do that,” Josh said.
“Yes, I can,” Margery said. “You don’t have a lease. But if you’d rather, I can call the police. They’d love to discuss your special senior discount. You’ll get free room and board, too.”
Jason ran straight to the fridge and opened the freezer. He pulled out the deflated bag of cold cash. “Hey, where’s the rest of our money? You ripped us off.”
“Now you know what it feels like,” Margery said. “I took two thousand to return to Mrs. Berger. The rest is a cleaning fee. I’m cleaning you out to teach you a lesson. Unless you’d rather talk to the police.”
“Come along, dudes,” Phil said.
He grabbed Jason and Josh by their shirt collars and shoved them out the door. Helen and Margery followed with their bags.
Chapter 29
“You’re the killer the cops are looking for, aren’t you?” Margery asked.
Helen screamed at the sight of her landlady in the morning light. Margery was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing the Marlins cap Helen had swiped from Mireya’s bedroom. Margery had a crazed grin. The air around her glittered with anger. Cigarette smoke surrounded her like fire from an ancient sacrifice.
“I thought I’d rescue this from the trash, in case the police need it for evidence,” Margery said. “Those aren’t strawberry jelly spots on that cap, are they? Those are blood flecks from that poor little photographer.”
Helen felt dizzy, and grabbed the edge of the table. She’d crawled out of Margery’s guest bed feeling like she’d been slammed in the head with a shovel. Funny, she didn’t remember drinking that much wine last night. The three of them—Phil, Helen and Margery—had celebrated the departure of the crooked 2C renters. Helen had been happy when she’d fallen into Margery’s guestroom bed at two in the morning. She didn’t care that she’d missed supper.
This morning, she craved coffee.
“Don’t stare like a halfwit,” Margery said. “Answer me. Where did you get this hat? Is it off the dead girl?”
“No,” Helen said. “Her head was—”
“Her head was a bloody mess because she’d been beaten to death,” Margery said. “You were there, weren’t you?”
“How did you—?”
“How did I figure it out? I saw this morning’s Sun-Sentinel.”
Margery slapped the paper down on the table. Helen jumped.
“The police composite drawing of the ‘person of interest’ is on the front page,” her landlady said. “The witnesses got the height right, but the rest wrong. You don’t weigh two hundred pounds, and you’re not a man. But you did come home wearing a baseball cap for the first time in your adult life, and you sure as hell are no Marlins fan. That red mark on your upper lip was where you had the mustache, isn’t it? You think it’s funny to screw around with a crime scene?”
“No,” Helen said in a small voice. Her head was ringing from Margery’s lecture. She desperately needed coffee. She reached for the pot, but Margery stepped between Helen and the kitchen counter.
“No coffee until I get a straight answer. What were you doing yesterday?”
“I tried to save Mireya, but I was too late,” Helen said. “Phil and I drove to her town house. She was already dead when we got there, and her place was ransacked. There were neighbors all over the complex. We had to get out of there, so I disguised myself.”
“Did you find anything?” Margery asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I found the wedding tape. I think Mireya was blackmailing the killer and that’s why she was murdered.”
“Has Phil seen it?” Margery asked.
“He was getting the Jeep while I found the tape. I slipped it into my purse.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“We were too busy running for the highway. Then I forgot.”
“Oh, you forgot, did you?” Margery’s voice dripped sarcasm. “What a surprise that Phil doesn’t know about that tape. He’d go straight to the police and probably lose his license. We can at least save him from himself. I’ve got a VCR right here. Let’s take a look at that tape.”
“It won’t work in a regular player. It’s a MiniDV tape,” Helen said. “Do you have a camcorder that takes one?”
“No, but I think Peggy does.”
“She’s not home,” Helen said.
“Then we’ll go to her apartment and borrow it.”
“You just can’t walk into her place—”
“I can,” Margery said. “I have a key, remember? But I won’t. I’ll call her at work and ask first—not that breaking and entering would bother you. But Peggy has this wonderful invention called a cell phone.”
Margery punched a speed-dial number on her phone. “Peggy, is that you? Do you have a camcorder that takes MiniDV tapes? Can I use it? No, no, I don’t want to video anything. I want to look at a tape. The camcorder has a display screen, right?
Good. I’ll look for it in the hall closet. Thanks.”
Margery hung up her phone. “Now you can have that coffee while I get the camcorder.”
Helen’s hands were shaking so badly, she poured herself a cup over the sink. The coffee had cooled by the time Margery returned, but her landlady was still boiling mad. Helen kept staring at the teal Marlins cap.
“What are you staring at?” Margery said.
“I’ve never seen you in any color but purple,” Helen said.
“I am wearing purple shorts,” Margery said. “But these teal caps are classics. They go for twenty-five bucks on Amazon and eBay. Too bad this one was ruined by blood. Now, get that tape.”
Helen fished it out of her purse. She was relieved when her landlady removed the ball cap and tossed it into the trash for the second time.
“Let’s make sure I don’t record over this.” Margery popped the tape in the camera and opened a three-inch display screen on the camcorder. A shot of Honey with her sister, Melody, fussing over the bride’s veil appeared.
“I think that was some of the first video Mireya took,” Helen said. “That’s in Honey’s bedroom.”
“Now, about when did the murder happen?” Margery asked.
“The last time anyone saw King alive was just before the toast by the best man. That would be almost an hour later.”
Margery fast-forwarded through endless views of the bride, the ceremony, and the receiving line. Finally, the camera was on a man holding a glass of champagne.
“Is that him?” Margery asked.
“Yes,” Helen said.
The camera swung toward the head table. Honey was smiling at her wedding party. The groom’s seat was empty, but Honey didn’t look worried.
Then the camera tilted. The next part was an out-of-focus jumble, before the camera settled on a blonde in a blue dress. She was arguing with King. They stood by the edge of the pool. Helen could see a close-up of a blue star on her back. King’s hair was plastered to his forehead, and he swayed as he talked. His back was to the pool. His face was red and sweating. The blonde gestured angrily and waved her arms. King laughed. It sounded harsh, even with the tinny camcorder speakers.
The blonde pushed him, and King toppled into the pool with a tremendous splash. He thrashed in the water, clearly panicked. The blonde backed away to keep from getting wet. King managed to grab the pool edge with one hand. The blonde stomped on his hand.