Ditched 4 Murder

by J. C. Eaton

  “My aunt Ina told me Louis knew of the guy. Why would Louis lie to her?”

  “Darned if I know.”

  As I was leaning over the notes, I couldn’t help but pick up the copies of Louis Melinsky’s divorce papers. His first divorce was only six years after he’d married Candace Everton. His second marriage lasted longer—fifteen years to Edith Ellen Sasserman. I scrambled though the papers looking for the third divorce document.

  “Nate, do you see another divorce document?”

  Both of us moved the papers around and looked through all of the folders we had lined up on the bed.

  “No, guess that’s it, kiddo.”

  “It can’t be. Louis Melinsky was divorced three times. That’s what my mother told me. Three times. She went on and on about it. So, where’s the third set of divorce papers?”

  “Maybe he filed them elsewhere. That happens.”

  “Come on, Nate. You yourself said the guy was really organized. And he is. Look at this stuff. Someone this methodical doesn’t leave out an important document like his third divorce. Oh my God! That can only mean one thing. Oh my God! Louis Melinsky is still married. OH MY GOD! Aunt Ina must never find out. Not yet.”

  Suddenly, all I could think of was a decaying mansion, an uneaten wedding cake, and a crazy woman in a tattered wedding gown. If my aunt Ina got wind of this information, she’d make Miss Havisham look like Mary Poppins.

  “Hey, calm down, kiddo.” Nate started to put the documents back into the fire safe box. “Missing divorce papers don’t mean he’s still married. The real issue we’ve got on our hands is what’s written on that third IOU.”

  I locked the safe as soon as it was closed and watched as Nate put it back in the master closet. We were headed into the living room when we heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the door.

  Nate immediately reached for the gun he kept on his body holster.

  “Shh. Go back in the bedroom and stay there.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. I was behind the bedroom door just as the front one swung open.

  A loud voice seemed to scrape the air. “I’ll only be a minute. I know where I left them.”

  That voice . . . that voice. It took a second for it to register. Aunt Ina! What was she doing here and whom was she talking to? I charged into the room, sidestepping my boss and nearly knocking into my aunt. Behind her was a young police officer who looked as stunned as I was.

  “Aunt Ina! Why are you here?” I shouted.

  Nate immediately held up his ID for the officer to see and announced himself. As the two men spoke, I grabbed my aunt by the arm and sashayed her toward the kitchen.

  I kept my voice to barely a whisper. “For heaven’s sake, you didn’t tell them we were here the other night, did you?”

  “Of course not. Don’t be silly, Phee. I told them I had to get into the house because I left my reading glasses here the last time I visited with Louis. I didn’t tell them it was really the other night when you and I were here. They believed me when I said I wasn’t about to buy one of those cheap ones at the drugstore when I paid good money to my optometrist. They arranged for that nice young officer to bring me here. He came directly to my house.”

  “Well, you better hurry up and get those glasses, Aunt Ina. Are you sure you left them here?”

  “Positive. I set them down on the vanity in Louis’s bathroom. By the way, what are you and your boss doing here? And how did you get in?”

  I quickly told her about Nate getting clearance and the fact we needed to see what was on the other IOU.

  My aunt stood perfectly still between the refrigerator and the kitchen island. “Tell me the truth, Phee. Does Louis owe the mob money? Is that what’s on that other note?”

  “The mob?”

  Leave it to my aunt Ina to offer up the one explanation none of us wanted to consider.

  “There is no mob, Aunt Ina. Only restaurant financiers, and no, Louis doesn’t owe anyone any money. At least not according to the papers we found.”

  “Good. Because I’ve decided to find a harpist to welcome the guests with angelic chords as they walk from the parking lot to the pathway.”

  I swore I could feel my head spinning faster than that girl’s from The Exorcist.

  “A harpist? Where are you going to find a—Oh, never mind. I thought you said Louis took care of all the music for the ceremony.”

  “He did. He did. Yet there’s something ephemeral about thoughtful music played on the harp and lyre. . . .”

  I was about to say the last people who played the lyre were the ancient Greeks and I was certain they weren’t about to rise from the dead to grace her wedding with “thoughtful music.”

  “Are you ready, Mrs. Stangler? Did you find your glasses?” It was the young officer from the Surprise Police Department. “Young” being the pivotal word. I’d seen elderly women with more facial hair than this guy. He certainly seemed nice enough and more than willing to accommodate my aunt.

  He took her by the elbow and coaxed her toward the door. “Let me drive you home.”

  “I’ll call you later, Aunt Ina.”

  Nate took a few steps toward them and held the door open. “We’ll leave through the garage, Officer McClure. Thanks again for the information.”

  I waited until the door closed behind them before I spoke. “Information? What information? Do they have an idea of where Louis might be?”

  “No, nothing like that. But they may have discovered a motive at Roland LeDoux’s condo for the murder of Theodore Sizemore.”

  “What was it? What did they find?”

  “It was a crumpled-up letter Roland had thrown into the trash. Sent to him registered mail a few days before Sizemore was killed on the golf course.”

  “And? And?”

  “Quit chomping at the bit, Phee. I’m getting to it. The letter said Theodore Sizemore was pulling all funding and wouldn’t be backing another Saveur restaurant. In other words, Saveur de Madeline was about to get its own death certificate before it was even built.”

  “Holy cow. Could Roland have been that angry to actually kill Theodore Sizemore?”

  “He could. But that’s not all. The letter wasn’t only addressed to Mr. LeDoux. Seems we’ve got another player. Come on, let’s get out of here before it gets dark.”

  Chapter 21

  “You’re not going to make me wait until we get into the office tomorrow to tell me whose name was on that letter, are you?” I said as we headed to our cars.

  “Nah, I’d be afraid you’d break into Roland’s condo.”

  “I would, too. So, who is it?”

  “Sebastian Talbot.”

  “Sebastian? It’s got to be the same Sebastian as the one at Saveur de Evangeline. I mean, how many Sebastians do you know?”

  “I hadn’t stopped to count them.”

  “Seriously, Nate, it has to be him. But when I last talked with him, he never let on he was the least bit concerned about Saveur de Madeline. Unless he . . .”

  “Yeah. Unless he never saw that letter. It was addressed to Roland but written to the both of them. Guess this Sebastian Talbot was more than one of Roland’s head chefs. He was a business partner and a soon to be disgruntled one if he’s thinking he’ll be able to open a new restaurant.”

  “If he doesn’t know he’s lost the funding, then it doesn’t make him a suspect in Theodore Sizemore’s murder, does it? Sebastian Talbot is going to be in for the shock of his life when he finds out, though. Gosh, Nate, when do you suppose that will be?”

  “Those kind of entrepreneurial dealings are usually quite complicated. Probably when he gets notified by a bank or maybe even the builder.”

  “Or the cops. For my aunt’s sake, I hope it’s after the wedding.”

  “For your aunt’s sake, I hope there is a wedding. I still haven’t been able to locate her fiancé. It’s not like he’s some poor groom who’s gotten a case of the jitters. Louis has probably figured out by now
someone’s setting him up for Roland’s death, or worse yet, planning to make your future uncle the next victim.”

  “Bite your tongue!”

  Nate was right. Of all the places to stash a stolen motorcycle, how did it wind up in Louis’s garage? As if that wasn’t enough to keep me awake at night, I still had a nagging little thought in the back of my mind that maybe, just maybe, Louis was still married and this situation gave him the opportunity he needed to “jump ship.”

  Nate waved his hand and paused. “Forget that letter for a second, will you? What do you make of those signatures on that last note? One hell of an IOU, I’d say.”

  The signatures were one thing. The “legalese” was another, and Nate knew I was totally lost.

  “What did the note mean about predeceasing?”

  “Means if the lender should pass away, the debt would be held by another party. That’s pretty common.”

  I gave him a nod. It was beginning to make sense. “So, killing off the lender doesn’t absolve the borrower from what he owes.”

  “Hell no, or every payday loan company would be out of business. Did you read the language on that note carefully? If I was Louis Melinsky, I’d be lying low, too.”

  “The motorcycle is bad enough. That IOU kind of cinches it, doesn’t it? My God, Nate, please don’t share that note with the police. Not yet.”

  “I don’t intend to, and they haven’t looked. Hey, did you happen to notice the date on it?”

  “No. All I saw were those zeros and my eyes glazed over.”

  “I got a good look. It was dated recently. In the past month. Before those deaths. Not like the other IOUs. They go back for years.”

  “Meaning?”

  “This recent note isn’t a gambling debt, like the others. Listen, I’ve got to get going. I’m supposed to meet up with someone for dinner in a little while.”

  “You have a date? You met a woman and have a date? That’s wonderful.”

  “Before you go jumping up and down about my social life, I should have clarified. It’s not a dinner date and it’s not a woman. If you must know, it’s Herb Garrett, your mother’s neighbor.”

  “What? You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “Herb did some snooping about the Lexus. Wanted to share his findings with me, so he invited me out to join him and a few friends of his at a Mexican restaurant not far from here. He and his buddies call themselves the ‘Romeos.’”

  “He actually has the chutzpah to use the word ‘Romeo’ to describe himself?”

  “I should have clarified that, too. No, it stands for ‘Retired Old Men Eating Out.’”

  “Oh brother. That’s right up there with my mother’s book club and, trust me, I can think of lots of acronyms to describe them.”

  “See you in the morning, kiddo. You know, Phee, with some serious training, you’d make a decent detective and—”

  “Sure. And with a bit of training, I could be the next chef extraordinaire, transforming hamburger into braised sirloin tips with caramelized onions. No thanks. I’ll leave the investigating up to you. The only reason I’m in the middle of this mess is because of Aunt Ina. Good thing my mother only has one sister.”

  Nate let out a quick laugh and turned toward his car. I was halfway to my vehicle when my cell phone buzzed. My mother! She always seemed to call at the most inopportune times, like this one. I really wasn’t in the mood to hear about my aunt, the book club ladies, or the latest rumor circulating around Sun City West. Unfortunately, I got to hear about all three.

  “I tried your home phone. There was no answer. So when you get my message, you can ignore it.”

  Can I ignore this call, too?

  “Your cousin Kirk called. He and Judy will be here next week. And let me tell you, he is more than a little put out that his future stepfather is nowhere to be found. Asked if I thought his mother was, well . . . you know . . . losing some cognitive functioning.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him his mother was as sharp as she’s ever been. Then he began to worry maybe Louis was going to scam her and steal all of her money.”

  “Um . . . not likely, Mom. From what Nate and the police were able to figure out, Louis Melinsky is quite well-to-do.”

  “Which brings me to the next thing I wanted to talk to you about. Shirley and Lucinda were here earlier today. Seems they both watched a TV reality show last night called Exes Who Sabotage Their Nexes. It’s all about ex-wives who sabotage their former husband’s wedding or marriage. You can’t imagine the kinds of things they do. Shirley said one woman tried to have her ex-husband declared incompetent so she could get power of attorney. And another one broke into the future wife’s house and ransacked it. But the worst one was the ex who put dead fish into the toilet bowl tanks at her former husband’s house. She still had a key. He never changed the locks. Are you listening to me? Because I’m about to say something important.”

  Oh no! Not this. Please don’t tell me what I think you’re going to tell me.

  “Mom, I—”

  “Shirley had a bad feeling about this. A bad feeling. Came over her when she was making that hat.”

  “It was probably indigestion. You didn’t say anything to Aunt Ina, did you?”

  “And have her grab the nearest piece of furniture and pretend to go into a swoon? No, of course not. But I did ask her about Louis’s ex-wives.”

  “What did she say? Does she know anything about them?”

  “Only what Louis told her, of course. Including the fact he never had children.”

  “Uh-huh. Go on.”

  “The first marriage was to a Candace something-or-other. Decided she didn’t want to be married to a musician. Ina said Candace got remarried to some executive from Microsoft and moved to Seattle. Then there was that Sasserman lady. What was her name? Oh yes, Edith. That marriage lasted a whole lot longer, until Edith decided she wanted to join some humanitarian group and go save starving children in godforsaken places.”

  “That sounds pretty noble of her.”

  “I suppose. If she doesn’t mind catching leprosy or some other plague. Anyway, last Louis heard, Edith was with Doctors Without Borders in Central America.”

  “What about the third wife? You told me he was married three times.”

  “All I know is the third wife is some sort of cabaret entertainer for the cruise lines. That’s probably how he met her. I think Ina mentioned the woman had been married once before.”

  “Look, I seriously don’t think any of Louis’s ex-wives would want to sabotage his fourth marriage. Tell Shirley and Lucinda not to get carried away.”

  “You can tell them yourself. The book club is getting together Saturday morning at Bagels ’n More. We’re selecting the lineup for next year.”

  “I thought the book selection was handled by the library.”

  “Not after last year’s nightmare. The women decided we’re much better off duking it out ourselves than leaving it up to some librarian.”

  “Um . . . will Aunt Ina be there?”

  “She wasn’t too definitive but, knowing her, I’d say yes. She won’t turn down an opportunity to be the center of attention. And that’s just what she’ll do. Take center stage and go on and on infinitum about the wedding.”

  “Yeah . . . well . . . about that . . . I’ve got a million things to do already for that wedding, and if I show up, she’ll have yet another catastrophe that will inevitably land in my lap. So, no. You have a good time with the ladies and send my regards.”

  “One more thing, Phee. I heard from Cindy Dolton. You remember Cindy from the dog park, with cute little Bundles? Well, she heard there’s a crazy person driving a Lexus who’s trying to run over joggers, bicyclists, and dog walkers.”

  “I’ll be sure not to do any of those things next time I stop by your house.”

  My head was swimming by the time I turned the key in the ignition. I could only imagine what I’d feel like had I accepted th
e breakfast invitation.

  The next day at work flew by quickly, with a flurry of phone calls (mostly about our business) and a few new walk-in clients. Nate was in and out all day and, in Augusta’s words, “chasing leads like a dog after his own tail.” His dinner with the Romeos turned out to be more hype than help, but he did get one possibility regarding the angry grill Lexus, so I guessed the night wasn’t a total bust. By the time the weekend rolled around, I was exhausted and glad to have a couple of days to catch a breath. Good thing, too, because the following week was a regular roller coaster. It started with a simple phone call to La Petite Pâtisserie that left me chewing on my fingernails.

  Chapter 22

  Nate was out and Augusta had left work early on Monday so she’d be home in time to let her exterminator into the house. With all of the craziness going on, I decided to call Antoine to find out what time they planned to arrive at the Petroglyph Plaza. But instead of Antoine, I got a hysterical Rochelle.

  “Antoine had a major meltdown. A MAJOR MELTDOWN. Honestly, I have no idea what this is about and Julien won’t be back until much later.”

  As long as it doesn’t have anything to do with my aunt’s stupid pastry birds, I’ll be okay.

  “It’s all right, Rochelle. I can call back later. It was only a quick question to find out what time your crew would be at the Petroglyph Plaza. It takes about ten minutes to drive from the White Tank Mountains entrance to the ruins.”

  “Oh, I’m no help. No help whatsoever. Julien has been walking around with his head up his you-know-what ever since he found out the moola came in so he could open another patisserie, and Antoine has been really pissed lately. At what? Who the heck knows? I can’t deal with these temperamental people. Everything was going fine and then Antoine got this phone call and all of sudden it’s like he’s the Hulk. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be spouting off like this. Oh my gosh. You didn’t say anything to Antoine about my getting a job offer at Saveur de Evangeline, did you? He’d rush right over and tell Julien. Oh my gosh . . .”

  “No! Of course not. Not a word to anyone.”