Coffee & Crime

by Anita Rodgers

  Eric yipped and cracked his knuckles. "All righty then, show time!" He clicked on the link, and the page redirected to a website called, The Secret Eye. The website provided discreet security services and technology, and offered online storage of the surveillance

  videos. Eric paused and frowned. "I need his username or password."

  "Try the email address and password we have," Ted suggested.

  Eric tried but the login failed. He returned to the list of files. He clicked on the third file and it too was a single document with two items: a user name and password. "Crafty for an old dude, eh?" He typed in the new username and password and we gained entrance into George's account. Eric clicked on the VIDEOS tab and the page redirected to a list of videos. The files were listed by date and assigned numbers. "Zads, there's over forty vids. Who's getting the pizza and popcorn?"

  I leaned in and scanned the dates. "These two are from the day he died. Let's try those, first."

  Eric frowned and pointed to his screen. "What about this one? Same date."

  I shook my head. "It’s the video of Peggy." I pointed to the time column. "See, ninety seconds." I frowned. "But if her video was on his phone, why weren’t these?"

  Eric shrugged. "Sometimes shit doesn’t forward. Doesn’t matter, let’s see what we’ve got." He downloaded the video to his laptop then started. "Show time!"

  Taking in a collective breath, we huddled around the computer screen to watch.

  The video started and George's face filled the screen. The picture jiggled as he adjusted the camera, and when it settled down, we had a wide angle view of George's desk. He came back into frame, carrying a couple of brownies on a paper napkin. Then set the brownies on the desk and pulled up his chair.

  He reached for the brownies, but his attention was drawn to the door. With a brief grin, George put out his arm and reached across the desk. Nick Farmer stepped into frame, dressed in his ripped jeans and hoodie, and shook George's hand. Farmer pulled up a

  visitor chair and sat.

  Eric turned up the sound but there was no audio. "He forgot to turn on the microphone."

  Their conversation was animated, but without audio, we had to rely on body language to decipher the purpose of the meeting. The two men were comfortable with each other, even friendly. Farmer pulled out a tablet, fiddled with the screen and handed it across the desk to George.

  George frowned, looked to Farmer, to the screen, then back at Farmer. He nodded and gave the tablet back to Farmer, who set it aside.

  Not happy about whatever Farmer had shown him, George swiveled in his chair and faced the camera. He rubbed his chin in thought, then turned back to Farmer and nodded.

  Farmer stood, reached across the desk and shook George's hand again. And said something.

  "I'll be in touch," Ted said. I looked up at him. "Farmer said, I'll be in touch."

  George stood, said something, then pointed to the brownies on the desk. Farmer smiled, shook his head and said something.

  "Stay strong," Ted said.

  George nodded, offered a hand flick as a goodbye and Farmer left. He stared at the door for a few seconds, then reached for a brownie, then stopped himself. He stood and walked out of frame.

  The video ended.

  Zelda scrunched her face. "George and Farmer were friends? In what world does that make sense?"

  I put my hand on Zelda's shoulder to quiet her. "Let's watch the other video before we try to figure out what they mean, okay?" Everyone nodded. "Go ahead Eric, play the next video."

  Eric downloaded the next video and clicked it.

  George approached his desk carrying a cup of coffee. He pulled up his chair and snagged one of the brownies — eating it in three bites. He took a sip of coffee, then gobbled the second brownie. It was clear to me that the meeting with Farmer had rattled George because his habit was to savor his food, not swallow it whole.

  The endorphins from the chocolate kicked in because he smiled like a happy child for a few seconds. But the euphoria was short-lived, and he hunched over a notepad on his desk, tapped his pen, then tossed the pen aside. Leaning back in his chair, George put his feet up on the desk and stared at his shoes for a few moments. But he couldn't relax.

  He swung his feet back to the floor and wiped at the desk top with the napkin. Then he balled up the napkin and tossed it onto the desk. From the desk drawer he withdrew a bottle of liquor, poured a good splash into his coffee and set the bottle on the desk top.

  As though struck by a sudden idea, George picked up his pen, wrote with intensity and purpose, like something drove him. Sipping his coffee between thoughts, his pen flew across the pages like it was angry. Then as quickly as he'd begun he stopped — falling back against his chair as though struck.

  He cradled his stomach with his hands and panted as though he couldn't breathe. He wiped at his eyes and squinted, trying to focus. His mouth moved as though he couldn’t control it. I watched in horror, knowing what was happening to him. His system was reacting to the brownie and shutting down and he fought against it like a drowning man.

  With trembling hands George reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew an injector. Gasping, he popped off the cap and plunged the injector into his thigh. His movements were clumsy and he had trouble pulling the needle out of his leg. The trembling and

  panting rapidly became worse.

  Gasping to get air into his lungs, George clawed at his tie but it didn't seem to help. He fumbled in the desk drawer for something, and the look that came over his face when he realized it wasn't there was heartbreaking. Pale and trembling uncontrollably, he struggled to his feet using the desk for support. Reaching for the phone, he swayed then collapsed in a heap on the floor.

  Within moments, Lily walked into frame. She crouched next to George and said something to him. Smiling smugly, she stood and scanned the room as though running through a checklist in her head. She moved toward the camera, ducked out of sight and when back in frame, held the pink cardboard box of brownies in her hands. She sneered at George, blew him a kiss and laughed.

  Lily's attention was drawn away from her gloating to the door. Distressed, she took a couple of steps back. Her face flushed and she said something.

  "I can explain," Ted interpreted.

  Jake stepped into frame, smiling. He sidled up to Lily, and he spoke to her, but his position prevented Ted from reading his lips. Lily's expression changed from fear to satisfaction, and she nodded agreeably.

  Lily set the box of brownies on the desk, reached for the napkins and empty injector but suddenly became startled and looked toward the door. Jake waved her away from the desk. She grabbed the box of brownies before Jake took her by the arm and hustled her out of the room.

  The video ended but we continued to stare at the screen in stunned silence.

  Eric closed the laptop and pushed away from the table. "Those are some cold bitches."

  Zelda grasped my arm and said, "Was George still alive when they left him there?"

  The question felt like a stab to the chest and I burst into tears. Ted put his arms around me and held me as I cried. "Poor George. He was terrified."

  But Joe had fire in his eyes and clapped his hands together. "The way I see it. We can all cry in our beers, or get George some good old fashioned justice. All eyes turned to him. "Don't look so glum y'all. We got her. Let’s put the package together with a big ol’ red bow and pay a visit to the D.A."

  "What about Farmer? How does he figure into all this shit?" Zelda asked.

  "Well, Miss Zelda, that's a question for another day. For the time being, we got some fine evidence against Lily and Jake." He drew his silver eyebrows into a vee. "Ain't that good enough for you? Lily and Jake up to their asses in alligators?"

  Chapter Sixty

  Assistant D.A. Landis Pembroke had the freckled fair skin of a natural red head. But her pinched expression and shapeless clothes screamed more prize fighter than comely Irish farm girl.

  Zelda and I
sat with Dan Parker on one side of the mahogany conference table with Pembroke opposite us. We waited while she took her time going through all the evidence and viewing the videos of George's final moments.

  Pembroke looked up, sighed and tapped her pen against a yellow legal pad. "I have concerns."

  Making no effort to hide his sarcasm Dan said, "Course you do."

  Pembroke arched an unwaxed eyebrow at him. "Chain of custody, chief amongst them."

  Dan tapped a finger on the thick file folder. "You've got the affidavits, duly notarized —names, addresses and phone numbers of everyone involved. And the evidence. What more do you want?"

  Pembroke eyed us like we couldn't be trusted. "They'll all testify? If I need them?"

  "As agreed earlier. They'll all testify if needed." Dan rapped the table lightly with his knuckles. "Landi darlin', I know you like being a hard-ass for the peanut gallery, but we're on the same side here. For once. Why not take your prize and leave the fair with a smile on your face?"

  Landis didn't break her steely gaze, but a sparkle in her eyes that made me think she was sweet on Dan.

  Dan nodded toward me and Zelda. "These young ladies went to considerable lengths and subjected themselves to personal danger to deliver this information to your doorstep. They've withstood harassment, endless interviews and have had their reputations dragged through the mud. Yet, despite all that, they succeeded in unearthing some very compelling evidence. Had your own detectives, who didn't care to investigate the possibility of foul play, come to you with this, you'd be chomping at the bit. So, what's the belly aching all about?"

  Pembroke tapped her unadorned fingernails on the stack of documents in front of her. "It's still chain of custody. If my cops provided the evidence, a defense attorney couldn't call them into question. But these two," she waved a dismissive hand, "are private citizens who had a vested interest in finding a killer. Among other complications."

  "Are you kidding?" I tugged at Dan's coat sleeve. "Is she kidding? What vested interest?"

  "The reward," Pembroke said without looking up — distracted by something she didn't share.

  Zelda guffawed. "Right, the reward that Maggie Manston says she'll pay? Fat chance."

  Pembroke looked down her short narrow nose at me. "There's also the matter of the inheritance."

  I sprung to my feet and shook a fist at her. "I didn't know about that! And what difference does that make? There's nothing in the will that required me to find George's killer to get the inheritance!"

  Dan put a gentle hand on my arm. "Scotti, please." I sighed at Dan, sat down in my chair and sulked. Dan squinted at Pembroke. "My clients came into possession of this evidence without breaking the law or violating privilege. Quit being such a hard-ass Landi."

  Pembroke crossed her arms over her chest. "And if Mrs. Manston claims the briefcase was stolen?"

  Dan shook his head. "The letter from George Manston to Scotti shows his intent was for her to have it and everything it contained. And as far as Maggie Manston is concerned, she insisted her husband was the victim of foul play and no one believed her. Except my clients." He patted my hand. "Not only does this evidence prove Mrs. Manston right, but it also delivers the killer to you, signed, sealed and delivered."

  Pembroke chortled. "All right Clarence Darrow, you've made your point." She shrugged and swept the files into a banker box on the floor. "Truth be told, this case crosses with another and may never go to trial."

  My radar went up and leaned across the table. "What? What other case?"

  Pembroke shook her head. "That information is far above your pay grade Ms. Fitzgerald. I'd suggest that you be happy that for you and your merry band of men, this case is over. We'll take it from here." Pembroke stood, signaling the end of the interview. Dan nodded and we pushed back our chairs. She shook Dan's hand. "If we need them for deposition or testimony, we'll be in touch."

  <<>>

  Running into Maggie Manston, when we walked out of the building, was the last thing I expected. Yet there she was and we froze, like a couple of felons. Maggie nodded. "Good to see you." Then she went past us into the building without a backward glance.

  Next up was Lloyd Sessions who followed a few steps behind Maggie. He paused and favored us with a brief smile. "Good afternoon ladies. How fortuitous that we should run into one another."

  Zelda smirked. "Fortuitous, eh?"

  Sessions nodded and withdrew a business card from his breast pocket. "There is a check waiting for you at my office. If you'll contact my office manager Mrs. Sloan, she'll make arrangements to get it to you."

  I took the card from him and frowned. "A check for what?"

  Sessions gave me a surprised smile. "Why the reward of course." He snapped his fingers, "Oh yes, you probably thought I meant the inheritance. Well, that is moving along too, but it will be several weeks before that matter is resolved."

  Zelda let out a whoop. "We get the reward?"

  Sessions nodded. "As I said, yes." He checked his watch then peered through the glass door into the lobby. "I apologize, but I must be going — but do call my office for the details. Goodbye." He pulled open the door and disappeared through it.

  Zelda grinned so hard it must’ve hurt. "How do like that? Maggie is paying up."

  Unimpressed, I nodded. "Color me surprised."

  Giggling, she pinched me. "Lighten up! This is a hundred grand worth of halla-freaking-looyah!"

  I rubbed the back of my neck and yawned. "Yeah, split five ways, then after taxes maybe five or six grand each." I sighed. "I guess we could all go on a cruise together."

  Zelda's mouth became a gaping maw. "Split five ways? It was 60-40 with Joe."

  I stared at her. "So Eric and Ted don't deserve a share of the money?" I swept out my arms. "After everything they did?"

  Zelda frowned as the wheels turned in her head. "Crap."

  Wary of anything that smacked of police authority, I led Zelda away from the building. "Can we please get out of here? I'm desperate to be cop-free." We double-timed it to the parking lot and ran straight into Daniels and Davis. Jumping back I said, "Just when you think you can escape Pasadena..."

  Daniels' face lit up like he'd run into Santa Claus. "As I live and breathe, it's my two favorite waitresses slash crime fighters."

  "Ex-waitresses," Zelda corrected him.

  Daniels scrunched up his face. "Manny's has sucked since you two left. Any chance you're going back?"

  Zelda put her hands on her hips and smirked. "Not in your lifetime."

  I pulled Zelda toward the parking lot. "Okay, gotta go, bye-bye."

  Daniels called out. "Hey Scotti!"

  I didn't want to, but I stopped and turned around. "Yeah?"

  "Lily's still out there. You two be careful. You hear me?"

  I wanted to believe that Daniels gave a shit, but I didn't. "Whatever you say Daniels." I gave him a little salute. "And thanks for sticking by us when it really mattered."

  Daniels lost the smile and glared. "Hey, that's not fair!"

  I didn't have the time or interest to argue with Daniels about what was fair. We turned and walked away — Daniels and Davis were now another waitress's problem.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Zelda dropped me off at the house and sped away for a rendezvous with Eric. I walked through the gate with a jaunt in my step and smiled at the scent of the daffodils that had bloomed without my notice.

  Unencumbered and feeling like myself again, life was full of possibilities. None of which involved murder, mayhem or jail sentences. Instead of cringing when Boomer dive-bombed me, I got down on the floor and played tug-a-chewie with him. For once, I wore him out, and he crawled into his little bed with a treat that he gnawed on until fell asleep.

  I had so much energy and time to kill that I made a seven-layer chocolate cake and left it on the butcher-block for Zelda. No doubt, she and Eric would need some fuel by the time they were done celebrating.

  After a short nap, I sunk into a b
ubble bath and stayed there until every muscle in my body was as soft and pliable as a plate of pasta. It felt sinful taking so much time to get ready for my date with Ted — but it was a special night. Tonight would just be about us.

  I massaged lavender lotion into my skin from head to toe and chucked my cotton briefs for a lacey pair with a matching bra. My curls I coaxed into perfect ringlets that hung down my back and spilled over my shoulders. I carefully applied make-up to play up my eyes and cheek bones. And I eased into a snug blue jersey dress that liked my curves and set off my eyes. Blue crystal earrings caught the light and strappy heels showed off my ruby painted toenails.