CHAPTER 5
* * *
The normal festive holiday lights of the street below were completely outshined by the flashing red and blue of the ambulance, firetruck, and police cars that had parked there. The entire block had been shut down to keep unsuspecting, or potentially curious, passers-by from wandering into the crime scene. Similarly, the penthouse was a swarm of emergency workers, all trying to create some semblance of order in the building.
Detective Mannor, despite his slight New Year’s buzz, had been efficient in clearing most of the party guests out of the penthouse and down into the building’s lobby. He’d, of course, had the help of a few other officers who were present at the party. The chief of police, who had also been invited to the annual bash, hadn’t been present since he was still out of town for the holidays.
Everyone was in a state of unrest and the uniformed officers came and went, clearly trying to secure any sense of evidence that might be present. Some people were standing and chatting quietly while others were sitting around silently waiting for someone to tell them they could go home.
Bert was in the second camp, having taken up residence on the stairs. With the body being on the street outside, no one was being allowed to leave until everything was taken care of. Additionally, Bert was sure that they’d all be required to give a statement before being sent on their way. She wondered if she should call Carla to come and get her when the time came, seeing as that Detective Mannor—being the head of the homicide division in Culver’s Hood—would be busy the rest of the night and likely into the morning taking care of the preliminary investigation.
He was her ride, but Bert hardly wanted to spend the night sitting on the hard-laminated concrete steps. The chill of the night air was flowing freely through the front doors. They had been propped open to allow the crews easy access in and out of the building, but it also meant the wind came through as well.
“Looks like I’m going to be here for a good long while,” came Detective Mannor’s voice from just up the stairs. Turning, Bert looked up at the already haggard looking man. His mask was completely absent, and the clunky fake chest plate was gone. Instead, he wore his white dress shirt with his normal trench coat over it. Walking down the steps, he took a seat next to Bert.
“Do you have time to sit down?” she asked, knowing just how crazy some of these investigations could get—murder or not.
“Just for a second, anyway. My men are sweeping the apartment right now, trying to see if they can turn anything up.”
“Did they start with the bar?”
Mannor twisted his lips to one side. “I’m having them look at the food, the drinks, everything. Just to be safe.”
Bert slumped down and hugged her knees. “Good, because whatever poison it was that was in that drink made him go wild.”
Sitting up straight, the detective clasped his hands and narrowed his eyes at her. “What makes you believe it was poison?”
Blinking a few times in confusion, Bert looked him in the eye. “How was this not poison? Didn’t you see the way he was acting?”
“I didn’t have a very clear view of what was happening with everyone shoving me backward further into the apartment. As far as I know, the only ones who were out on the balcony at the time were you, the mayor, and her husband.”
Bert tapped her fingers on her knees as she tried to remember. “Well, I guess that is technically true. A lot of people were standing in the doorway at the time, too.” She thought she understood what his thought process was. Perhaps he assumed that either the mayor or her husband were the ones behind the death. After all, they were the two people closest to the victim throughout the night.
Mr. Kreer specifically hadn’t seemed extremely fond of his wife’s assistant, but did he have enough distaste for the man to kill him?
Bert didn’t know any of these people well enough to make that kind of judgment.
She didn’t bother verifying this theory with Mannor, though. Not only would it irritate him that she was prying further and further into the investigation, but he was likely trying to keep any theories or suspects under wraps until he had more evidence.
Pointing the finger at a politician without a base of support was asking for trouble.
“Anyway, I’m going to need to get an official statement from you, since you were closest to him when he fell.”
So, that was the real reason he’d sat down next to her. Bert guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. When it came to police work, Mannor was all business.
In his regular fashion, he pulled his trusty notepad out of his coat pocket as he stood up. “Come on, the landlord is allowing us to use his office.”
Bert followed suit, wanting to get this over with and get home. A warm bath followed by a cozy bed was her reward after such a trying night, and with her date in his official police mode, she didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary in the building.
Stepping into the small office, she was surprised to see how cluttered it was. Stacks of papers, old food wrappers and boxes, and little trinkets took up most of the space. For such a fancy building, she’d expected to see an equally extravagant office for the landlord.
Sitting down in a chair without being asked, she was ready to jump into the discussion with questions of her own. “So, you don’t think it’s poison?” she asked, returning to the topic most prominent in her mind. She knew she should try to be tactful, but she was honestly interested in the detective’s opinion on the matter if he’d even bother giving one.
Detective Mannor was known for being neutral and closed off until he had some real evidence in hand.
Sitting at the desk, he looked across at her, his lips tightening. He was trying to keep any rude comments in.
He must really like me, Bert thought to herself with an inward chuckle.
“Bert, why may I ask are you so attached to the idea of poison?”
Leaning back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, she crossed her legs. “I told you. He grabbed at his throat and basically tore his costume open. I mean, buttons went flying everywhere.”
Mannor shrugged. “You know, he could have just as easily been having a heart attack.”
“A man that young? He couldn’t be more than twenty-five,” she pointed out.
“While that’s true, a heart attack isn’t outside the realm of possibility. Neither is choking on something, like an ice cube, maybe?”
Bert refrained from rolling her eyes. “I know what I saw, and it didn’t look like anything natural. Someone poisoned him, and in his frenzy, he accidentally fell over the railing.”
Mannor jotted something down. “So, he flailed about and toppled over the edge?”
“That’s right.”
“Could have been a complete accident, you know.”
Tilting her head and giving him a wary look, she shook her head. “I don’t believe that, and I don’t think you do either.”
“I can’t think anything until I have a better look at the situation as a whole, which won’t be until at least tomorrow morning after we’ve finished all the interviews and done a full sweep of the apartment.”
“I still say this wasn’t an accident,” she spoke adamantly. “Just like you said, I was the closest one to him. In fact, I was the only one who even tried to help him. Everyone else just backed out the door because they were afraid of getting hit by his flailing.”
“I was struggling to get closer and help out, just like you. I just happened to be stuck behind a whole bunch of scared people.”
“And he was flailing because he was poisoned,” she continued her thought without listening to his plea. She knew he was right and that he’d tried to get through to help, but she was just getting too irritated by his complete disregard for the fact that this was a poisoning.
“There aren’t many poisons that act instantaneously like that.”
“And we were at a party of well-to-do people, many of whom could have gotten access to that very kind of poiso
n.”
“We don’t know it’s poison,” he retorted, his voice growing harsh for the first time since the incident.
Bert realized she was pushing his buttons and decided to reign it in. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Harry.” She almost choked upon hearing his first name escape her throat. Why was it always during overly stressful situations, when someone had died, that she managed to use his first name?
Setting down his pencil and pad, he sighed and held out a hand to her, expecting her to reach back. She didn’t. “It’s okay, Bert. I get it. You’ve seen your fair share of deaths and dead bodies these last few months. I’m sure it’s been trying.”
“That’s an understatement.”
Realizing she wasn’t going to take his offering of comfort, he pulled his hand back. “I want you as uninvolved in this case as possible. I know you saw him fall, but so did a bunch of others. I don’t want you thinking or worrying about this case at all after this interview.”
“But, I saw it happen right in front of me. I know it was poison,” she emphasized her theory again. “Someone at that party poisoned him.”
“Once I have the lab finish testing all the food, drinks, the glass, we’ll know more. The autopsy will be the clincher though.”
“So, you do think it’s poison then?” she pressed, trying to get some sort of straight answer from her date.
Letting out a long breath, he clapped both hands on the desk.
“Do you?” she asked again.
Narrowing his gaze at her, she saw his jawline stiffen. He was trying to keep his usual gruff nature under wraps, but it was clearly difficult, especially when he was on the job like this. Bert supposed it was only natural that homicide investigation had a way of hardening a person.
She’d been impressed by his ability to bring forward such a softness, despite his regular outward expression of irritability and unfriendliness on most occasions. During other homicide cases that Bert had unwittingly been a part of, he’d not been the kindest of characters.
This time around, he was trying to be more genial, at least with her.
“Just don’t worry about it this time, okay, Bert? I know you’ve been a critical part of a lot of other investigations, and I’m sorry about that. Like I said, you shouldn’t always have to be dragged into these cases.”
Bert gave a little nod, realizing they’d just be talking in circles all night if she continued to bring up her own theories and ideas. At this point, all she wanted to do was get home and into bed.
Then she remembered that she would need a ride. “How long do you think this will take?”
“It could be a good long while. I have a lot of other people to get to.”
“Then do you mind if I call Carla really quick? I’ll want to head home right after.”
Mannor’s mouth dropped open to protest. A part of him still wanted to be able to drive Bert home like he’d planned on, but the larger part of him—the cop part—knew it was totally out of the question. Finally, he nodded. “Go ahead but make it fast.”
CHAPTER 6
* * *
“I’m here,” Carla’s voice echoed over the phone line after Bert picked up, “but I couldn’t get anywhere close to the building, so I parked in the alley on Seventh.”
“Okay, I’ll walk over to meet you,” Bert agreed, having known that her best friend wouldn’t have stood a chance of getting close to her. Considering that this particular incident involved multiple politicians from the city, it only made sense to take every precaution necessary. Bert, after finishing giving her statement to Detective Mannor, had walked down a few blocks to a quaint coffee and tea shop called The Tempest.
The place was tiny, with red plush couches and chairs around low-level tables. It felt more like a lounge than any coffee shop, and Bert supposed the setting was meant to entice the local college students to come in. At the very least, it was warm inside, so she wasn’t stuck waiting out on the street for her friend to arrive. Despite the late hour, she’d had a coffee as well. It was a peppermint and hazelnut flavored item that was only available during the winter months. She was pleasantly surprised by the rich taste and was simply glad to have something warm in her belly. It gave her some good ideas for a pie with some sort of hazelnut chocolate in it.
She made a mental note to come back to The Tempest again as she placed a handful of change, mostly dimes, on the table and stood up to go. If she could get a hold of the owner, maybe she could make a deal where Pies and Pages could sell some of their coffees with the desserts. It could be a neat partnership and would likely boost business.
However, what Bert really needed was some more enticing means of getting people to purchase books. So far, the pies were selling like magic, but many of the books sat on the shelves collecting dust. Sometimes, she wondered if anyone even read anymore—especially kids.
All these thoughts and more weighed on her mind as she stepped out the glass front door and into the chilly night. Another round of snow had begun to fall, and Bert couldn’t help but admit that she was getting tired of it. She was sure it had more to do with her crummy New Year’s Eve, than the actual weather, but now she couldn’t help feeling a slight rise of irritation in her chest.
Walking the block down to Seventh Street, she spotted her friend’s car idling in an alley near a New York style pizzeria.
Upon spotting Bert’s figure on the sidewalk, Carla flashed her lights. Bert waved as she trotted across the street and climbed in the passenger door. Letting out a sigh of relief, she placed her hands up close to the blowing heat from the vents. “Thanks a million for coming to get me.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I just forgot how crazy it gets down here in downtown on New Year’s Eve. There was hardly a place to park.”
“Looks like you did alright to me,” Bert noted, motioning to the alleyway.
“Well, it isn’t a long-term solution, but because I was only picking you up, I figured they wouldn’t ticket me for only sitting here a few minutes.” Putting the old car into reverse, she slowly pulled out onto the street.
“Of course, the fact that there was a murder doesn’t help traffic very much,” Bert commented.
Carla sucked in a breath of air like her life depended on it. “You’re kidding me.”
“I wish I was.”
“I thought it was just a tragic accident. That’s what you said on the phone,” she accused Bert, turning out onto the street and weaving her way out of the mess of the downtown streets.
“Well, Detective Mannor thinks it may have just been an accident, but I’m not biting.”
“Why didn’t you tell me there was a murder?” she asked, still unable to get over the fact that she wasn’t included in the loop of gossip right away. Carla was the kind of woman who liked to have her fingers in everything. If she was the last to know about some snippet of news, she grew very grumpy very quickly.
“I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want you asking a bunch of questions right away, not until you got down here, and we could talk in person.”
“I wouldn’t ask a bunch of questions,” she defended herself.
Bert only gave a quiet hurumph of laughter in response, letting what Carla had just said hang in the air.
“Okay, fine, fine. You know me too well. I can’t resist an exciting story, okay?”
“No offense. You’re still my best friend and go to gal.”
“It’s totally okay. I get it.” Driving up the entrance ramp onto the highway, Carla turned them toward home on the opposite side of the small city. “But, now that we are safely in the car and on our way home, you better spill the beans.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Bert teased her friend.
Carla could only roll her eyes.
Without another hesitation, Bert launched into her play-by-play of the evening's events, beginning with their arrival at the party, the tension between Mr. Kreer and Mr. Downwater, and ending with the young man’s unfortunate tumble over the railing.
“Oh, my goodness, that’s terrible,” Carla reacted once the whole story was done.
“When I saw the poor guy go over the edge, I thought I just might faint.”
“I know I would. I’ve had those dreams where I fall off something and into open air like that, but I’ve never seen it happen to anyone. Of course, in my dreams, I’m usually falling off a roller coaster for some reason.”
Bert shivered at the very thought of it but managed to shrug off the feeling. “The point is, I know that he was poisoned before he fell.”
“It sure sounds like it to me, what with the way you described him grabbing his throat and all. It’s just like in the movies.”
“But this isn’t a movie, Carla. This is real life.”
“Have you ever seen someone poisoned before? I mean, how can we really know that’s what happened? When you think about it, movies aren’t always the most accurate.”
“That’s true, and I’m not a professional toxicologist, but I just have a gut feeling about this. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone act that way before.”
Carla gave a small shrug with only one shoulder. “I guess, since he fell over the balcony, there is no way to know if he would have died. Maybe it was a heart attack or was choking or something and he just happened to fall over because of it.”
Bert folded her arms. “Seriously, you too?”
“What do you mean?”
“Detective Mannor didn’t believe me either.”
“You mean Harry,” her friend pointed out, using his first name. “You guys are dating. You should be on a friendlier basis by now.”
Bert rolled her eyes and let out a low groan. “Come on, Carla. Let’s not get into it. I don’t know what the detective and I are, yet.”
“Sorry. Just trying to be a good friend.”
“You agree with him, though? You believe it was just an accident?” she asked, completely skirting the issue of her romantic relationship.
“Hey, it’s not like I don’t believe you. I’m just helping to examine all the possibilities here. I mean, I’ve heard of some people who really go crazy when they think they can’t breathe, flailing all about and even hitting people. It’s like they go into a blind frenzy.”
Killer Caramel Pie (Pies and Pages Cozy Mysteries Book 6) Page 4