Coffee & Crime

by Anita Rodgers

  Tina shook her head, apparently satisfied that we offered no threat. "No reason to go down the hill when you're already here." She pointed to her left. "My office is around the side, over the garage and up the steps. I'll meet you there in a sec."

  Tina closed the door and we slogged around to the side of the house. As the rain soaked into my sneakers, I wished I'd worn boots. We dashed up the steps and met Tina at the landing then she motioned us inside.

  The small office had the elegant touches you'd expect from a designer — comfy club chairs with a velvety upholstery, a desk and credenza so pretty they looked like artwork, and that hidden mysterious lighting that made everyone look great.

  Tina motioned to the chairs. "Please, make yourselves comfortable." She sat behind her desk and uncapped an ivory and gold fountain pen. "Let's talk about the space and the changes you'd like to make."

  I threw Zelda a look, but she threw it right back to me. Clearing my throat I said, "I think there's been a misunderstanding — we're not here because of a design problem."

  Tina's petite frame tensed. "Oh?" She re-capped her pen and waited for an explanation. I reached across her desk and gave her an Enders Investigations business card. Tina read the card and arched an expertly waxed eyebrow. "Private investigator? Please explain."

  "George."

  Tina looked down and smoothed an already smooth desk blotter. "George who?"

  "George Manston."

  Her hazel eyes were guarded but curious too. "Yes, I know George. What about him?"

  I was too wet and weary to try to play her so I went with blunt. "We're looking into his death. We know you and George met twice a week over the last several months — can you tell us why?"

  Tina gave me a haughty over the shoulder look. "He hired me to decorate his offices."

  I chuckled because Tina thought she'd play me. "That’s a lot of appointments to discuss fabric samples and paint chips."

  Tina rocked back in her chair and steepled her fingers. "Looking into his death? My understanding is that it was an accident."

  Her answers were the butterfly and my questions the net trying to catch it. "Not everyone believes that."

  "The police certainly do."

  "We're not from the police," I said.

  A wry smile tugged at the corners of her full mouth. "No, you're not, are you?" She propped her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on her hands. "What is it you think I can tell you?"

  I was cranky and in no mood to hide it. I snapped at her, "I don't know. Maybe nothing. But you're obviously curious or you'd have kicked us out by now." I held up my hands in response to her raised eyebrows. "Look, it's been a long day, so forgive my bluntness, but I don't think you don't believe George's death was an accident either."

  Tina shook her head. "No, I don't."

  I leaned forward in my seat. "May I ask why?"

  "I have my reasons." Tina studied me, trying to size me up. "How do I know she didn't send you here?"

  "Who?"

  Tina pointed her fancy pen at me. "You can tell Maggie Manston I said she should fuck off." She rolled back her chair and stood up. "Now…"

  "Maggie Manston?"

  Tina scoffed. "I'm not an idiot. Nobody's looking into George's death. But why she'd bother trying to prove the affair now that he's dead is beyond me." She pointed to the door. "Tell Maggie her twisted little game didn't work."

  I jumped to my feet and threw up my hands. "Why does everybody think I'm some agent of Maggie Manston's? I'm not here for that woman. And I don't give a damn about your affair with George. I'm here for me." My voice cracked and I sucked in my lips so I wouldn’t cry. "George was my friend. And I want to know what happened to him, okay?"

  Tina sat on the edge of the credenza, still unsure of me. "Or you're a very good liar."

  Short on patience and now used to explaining myself to strangers, I gave Tina the cliff notes on how I fit into the configuration of George's life. Leaving out the details of my vested interests.

  She tossed her pen on the desk and sat down. "All right. Ask your questions."

  Feeling surly and not caring if it showed, I let it rip. "You met the night before he died, why? Was he upset?"

  Tina nodded slowly. "Yes, we met." She shook her head. "Upset, no. Resolved, yes. He said he was leaving Maggie." She flicked me a look. "Apparently George wasn't the only one having an affair."

  She expected me to be surprised but I wasn't — nothing Maggie Manston did surprised me.

  Tina nodded. "That's right. The woman George was so guilt ridden about cheating on was cheating on him. That was the final straw, and he was ready to walk away." She fell back in her chair and hugged herself. "But that decision came too late."

  The rain tapped at the windowpanes, like an impatient child trying to get inside. I couldn't conceal my skepticism. "George was leaving Maggie for you?"

  Tina nodded. "Is that so hard to believe? George never loved Maggie. George loved me."

  "Then why did it take Maggie having an affair for him to leave her?" Tina glared at me but I shrugged. "No offense but married men often make promises like that."

  Tina sighed. "He kept promising to leave her, but there was always an emergency or excuse to put it off. When Lily suddenly appeared in his life, it got worse."

  That little red flag, Lily, popped up again. "Lily made what worse?"

  Tina frowned as though it were obvious. "His family life. She agitated everybody. And George became the peace maker."

  I was no fan of Lily’s but people sure felt comfortable making her the scapegoat for just about everything. "But George didn't just accept Lily with open arms, did he? Knowing George, he would've checked her out. Certainly Maggie insisted that he verify Lily was his biological daughter?"

  Tina chewed on her lip. "He said something about having a background check done. I don't know if he followed through on it. But yes, George was pragmatic and methodical, so it makes sense that he would've done that." She waved her hand. "But the point is that Lily complicated matters. He felt a duty to make things right for her. Apparently, her childhood was rough — growing up without a father. And the mother could barely support the two of them."

  I pursed my lips. "So George cut Lily slack and she took advantage of it?"

  Tina nodded. "I never met Lily but from what I gathered, she was a handful. And quite good at playing the guilt card." She waved the topic of Lily aside. "Maggie's affair finally tipped the scales. George hit his limit. He was walking away from everything — even if it meant starting over."

  "You mean his family?" I asked.

  Tina shrugged. "His family. His practice. Everything. If necessary."

  That statement was like a knife in the eye – had George been prepared to walk away from me and the diner too? Was the briefcase just his way of saying good bye in a chicken shit way?

  Tina leaned back in her chair and looked up to the ceiling. "He was tired of the manipulation. And with people walking all over him. Taking advantage." Her eyes glimmered with sadness. "I wanted to believe he meant it this time. Doesn't matter now — I couldn't save him."

  Zelda frowned. "From what?"

  "The treachery of his own life."

  I wondered if Tina included herself in that statement.

  <<>>

  We shivered in the jeep, waiting for the engine to warm up. "So George was going to chuck everything for Tina? Do you buy that?" Zelda asked.

  I frowned, still a wondering if I'd been on George's chuck list too. I glanced at Zelda. "I couldn’t blame him for wanting to leave Maggie but Tina seems like a brunette version of her, so I don’t know." I pushed the damp hair behind my ear. "Either way, his life was a snake pit." I glanced at her. "It makes me wonder if that fresh start thing included his partnership with me."

  Zelda clicked on the heater and held her hands in front of the vent. "Nah, the diner was part of the fresh start."

  I stared through the windshield at the depressing night. "I wish he could'v
e confided in me."

  Zelda turned the heat up a notch. "Sounds like he had his hands full with his crazy wife and daughters." She put her hand on my arm. "Maybe the briefcase was his way of confiding in you. Like insurance."

  I frowned at her. "Insurance for what?"

  Zelda shrugged. "Hell, I don't know. But he knew something was coming after him. That's for sure." She peered through the windshield at Tina's house. "If Tina baby is telling the truth then Maggie had reasons to get rid of George herself." She looked back at me. "Could be Maggie is using the reward as a distraction — to take suspicion off her."

  I put my wet face close to the heater vent and the warm air made my cheeks sting. "But the police ruled it an accident. Why would Maggie push her luck? She could’ve just kept her mouth shut and gotten away with it."

  Zelda shrugged. "It's the classic fake out. The police say accident, then Maggie screams murder. The cops don't like being told their business, so they chalk it up to her being nuts. And now for sure, they aren't going to investigate it because it's become a

  pissing contest." She snickered. "And they're going to prove to Maggie that their penises are bigger than hers."

  I slumped back in my seat and sighed. "So it's just a big show? She goes on television and offers a reward she knows she'll never have to pay?" I shook my head. "That could backfire. What if somebody proves she did it?"

  Zelda soft-punched my arm. "Who the hell is going to investigate the great Maggie Manston? The cops don't want anything to do with her. And she's got enough money and power to shut anybody down." She smiled and put the jeep in gear. "Could be the perfect murder my friend."

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  We barreled down the 210, debating perfect murders and where to stop for burgers. Joe called and I put him on speaker.

  Sounding more agitated than usual, he said, "Where in tarnation have y'all been?"

  I made a face at Zelda. "What's the matter, Joe?"

  "Don't y'all ever check your messages?"

  Zelda cut in front of a Camry driving like Miss Daisy — leaving a waterfall in her wake. Teasing him I said, "Yes Joe, we're bad little detectives. What's up?"

  "Y'all heading this way? I got something."

  I frowned as the rain came down harder and visibility was about three feet ahead. "Yeah," I said keeping my eyes on the road. "We'll swing by after we pick up a couple burgers. You want anything?"

  Joe huffed. "Vittles can wait. This is important."

  Zelda whined and said, "If it's that important, tell us what it is now."

  "No ma'am — not on the phone."

  I frowned at Zelda. "Okay, we'll be there in a few." I ended the call. "Crap, my stomach is about ready to eat itself."

  Zelda glanced at me. "We'll hit the drive-through at Mickey Dees. If we bring him a couple of apple pies he'll forgive us."

  I nodded and Zelda stomped on the accelerator. Gripping the dashboard I screamed, "Good God, will you slow down?"

  And then the blue and red lights flashed, followed by the bloop of a siren.

  Zelda checked the rearview mirror. "Damn it!" She pulled over and the cruiser pulled up behind her. "Shit, damn, hell!"

  "I told you to slow down."

  "Chill out," Zelda said and jumped when the uniform tapped on her window. She cranked down the window and smiled. "Evening officer, what seems to be the trouble?"

  The cop shined his flashlight inside the car. "Are you Zelda Carter?"

  Her worried eyes darted to me. "Yeah, that's me."

  "Follow me," he said.

  I leaned toward the window. "Follow you? Can't you write her a ticket and let us go?"

  His glare told me to zip it and I did. The cop kept his flashers on and we followed him slowly — all the way to the Pasadena Police station. My face fell and I said, "Oh fuck."

  Zelda pounded the steering wheel. "That asshole Jake sicced the cops on us?"

  I got a text off to Joe before the cop tapped on the window and motioned us out of the car. "What are we doing here?" I asked but got the blank cop stare for an answer. "Aren't you supposed to advise us of our constitutional rights?"

  <<>>

  We were relieved of our bags and phones and put into an interview room. Zelda was nervous and wanted to talk but I shushed her, certain somebody was listening in.

  She whispered in my ear, "Are they going to arrest us?"

  The door opened and a detective who was built like a tank and possessed the ramrod posture of a military cadet entered the room. The jacket of his cheap brown suit strained against his barrel chest and his rubber soled shoes squeaked as he crossed to the table.

  "Evening, ladies, I'm Detective Ronald Short." His voice was more animal than human. Short pulled out a chair and sat opposite us at the table. "Thanks for coming in."

  Zelda's mouth dropped open. "Thanks for coming in? You think we…"

  I elbowed Zelda and shook my head. "May we ask why we're being detained?"

  Short consulted his notepad then bared his teeth at me, which I guessed was his idea of a smile. "You aren't being detained ma'am. Just a friendly chat about possible harassment."

  Zelda gripped the table. "Somebody accused us of harassing them?"

  Short nodded.

  I smirked. "Who?"

  Short continued to smile but it was filled with contempt. "I'm not at liberty to tell you that, ma'am."

  "What are you at liberty to tell us, then?" Zelda asked.

  Short unbuttoned his ill-fitting jacket and ran a hand through his buzz-cut. "Law says that ambushing private citizens with unwanted questions can be classified as assault."

  I smirked and rolled my eyes. "Asking questions equals assault?"

  Short nodded and leaned slightly forward. "Yes ma'am, if the questions are invasive and threatening."

  I leaned a little forward myself. "Threatening? We didn’t threaten anyone."

  Short lowered his voice and stared at my chest. "This little investigation of yours needs to end." He looked up and gave us a tight, toothless smile. "Otherwise, you could find yourselves on the wrong end of a lawsuit — or maybe county jail. You get me?"

  Zelda glared at him and shoved her fisted hands under her arms. Like her I wanted to leap across the table and jump the s.o.b. but I fought the urge to brawl. "Yeah, we get you, detective." I held his gaze, meeting his jutting chin with my own. "Is that it? Are we free to go or do we need to call a lawyer?"

  Amused, Short pushed away from the table, went to the door and opened it, "Ladies, first."

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The little detour to the Pasadena PD put us at Joe's an hour later than expected. Short had spooked us and neither of us wanted to get out of the jeep to give Joe a chance to take a shot at us too. My stomach growled and my eyes felt like they were crusting with sand, but putting off Joe would only make the punishment worse. I threw open my door, "Let's go face the music." The rain had stopped, but the cold sliced through me, and I shivered. "Why is it so damned quiet?"

  Still nervous, Zelda cast a quick look over shoulder. "It's late."

  I got that weird shiver you feel when somebody’s right behind you. "Joe never answered my text — he's probably madder than hell." The sudden chirp and sputter of car engine made both of us jump. I scanned the street and spotted a small car, driving away from us. "Damn it!"

  Zelda blew out a nervous chuckle. "Down girl, it's only an old hippie heading to Starbucks in his VW." She could recognize any vehicle by the sound of its engine. She hustled me up the walk to Joe's place, "Let's do this and go home."

  We turned up the walkway and stopped abruptly when we saw the door. It was wide open. And there were no lights on inside.

  Zelda stuck her through the open door, "What the hell?"

  I felt around for the light switch and flipped it on. "Joe?" We both stopped on the threshold. The office was tossed — files and papers everywhere, desk drawers hung open and Joe's computer sat in pieces on the desk. We rushed inside looking for Jo
e. But there was no one in the front, which was frankly a relief. Zelda yelled. "Joe? Eric? Where are you?"

  Exchanging a look, we both hurried down the hall to the back office. "Eric? Joe are you here?" Again, stopping on the threshold and again finding a tossed office. "What the hell is going on around here?" Then I spotted Joe, lying on the floor, unconscious. "Oh my freaking God!" I knelt down beside him. "Joe!" He still had a pulse and I shook him gently. "Joe? Joe, can you hear me?" No response. "Zee, call 911."