Satisfied with my decision, I dashed upstairs to my apartment and changed into a pair of clean jeans and a T-shirt. These were hardly better, but at least they didn’t have paint splotches and spittle. I looked at the ones I’d taken off, decided they weren’t worth keeping and chucked them into the garbage. And then I hoofed it downstairs to my shop.
“Wow. How in the world did you manage to accomplish so much so quickly?” I said, walking in. “I hardly recognize the place.”
The entire space had been cleaned from top to bottom. Gone were all the newspapers that had littered the floors and been taped to the windows. And better yet, gone was the dust. I took a few steps, and could have kissed my friends when the white powdery clouds failed to appear. If not for the virgin wall and the painter’s tape masking the baseboards, the shop would have looked ready to stock.
Marnie and Jenny were covering the armoire and furniture with fresh plastic drop cloths.
“We had to rewrap everything. The old sheets were covered in dust,” Marnie said.
A few feet away I noticed a gallon of paint, a roller and tray and some brushes.
“You like?” Jenny said, wiping her hands on her jeans.
“I can’t believe how much work you did in so short a time.”
“Well, it wasn’t such a short time. You didn’t exactly come right back, as you promised,” Marnie said, her tone implying a wagging finger. “Where were you for so long? You’ve been gone for nearly three hours.”
The image of Swanson’s dead body came flooding back. Jenny must have sensed my mood because she shook her head, a silent signal to ignore Marnie’s attitude.
“We decided to speed things up,” she explained. “Syd takes so long for everything. But if we keep going, we could paint both sides by the end of the day tomorrow. Then we could set up and open day after tomorrow. What do you think?”
“That sounds a bit optimistic, but if you’re game, so am I.”
“Don’t look so depressed. We’ll get it finished. I promise,” Marnie said.
Jenny looked at me strangely. “What’s wrong? Did he give you your permit?”
“Uh, not exactly. There was a problem.”
Marnie froze. “Don’t tell me he turned you down. He did the same thing to my friend I told you about. She was just at the end of her rope. Damn that man for being so ornery. I could just strangle him.”
“Somebody beat you to it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Her face fell. “Don’t tell me he’s—”
“Dead,” I said, nodding. “Somebody killed him.”
“Oh, no,” Jenny said, covering her mouth.
Marnie planted her hands on her hips. “That’s just great. How are you supposed to get your permit now?”
Jenny gave her a light slap on the arm. “Marnie! How can you even say such a thing? The poor man is dead.”
“You always were nicer than me,” Marnie replied, not looking the least bit repentant. “I’m the more practical one.” She turned to me again. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I should call city hall and ask. Maybe they can give me a temporary permit until they get a new inspector.”
“Something else is upsetting you. I can feel it,” Jenny said. “What is it?”
I scowled. “It’s nothing.”
“Did you and Matthew have a fight?” she asked.
Was I that transparent? “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Whatever it was about,” Marnie said, “I wouldn’t worry about it. A young lover’s quarrel, that’s all it is. You’ll be kissing and making up in no time.” She held out her hand. “Give me your apartment keys. I’ll run upstairs and call the city. We might as well find out what we should do about this permit situation.”
“I doubt there’s anybody there. All the employees had been sent home when I left.”
“I’ll find out soon enough. Now give me those keys.”
I handed them over. Seconds later her footsteps clattered up the stairs.
“Poor man,” Jenny said. “I know he was difficult, but no one deserves that. Surely he wasn’t killed for that reason?”
“At this point, God only knows the reason.”
“Are you absolutely sure he was murdered?”
“There’s no question about it.”
“He was just here—no more than a few hours ago. He had to have been killed between the time he left and the time you found him. He couldn’t have seen very many people in that time. They’ll probably catch the killer in no time.” I nodded. “How did you learn about his death?”
“I’m the one who found him.”
“Oh, poor you. No wonder you look so distraught. Are you all right?”
“I am now, but I was pretty upset for a while. There was a lot of blood. Somebody knocked him over the head with a marble bookend.”
She grimaced. “Ouch.”
“And then, who shows up but Officer Lombard. Let’s just say she wasn’t thrilled to see me. She did everything but come right out and tell me that she thinks I did it.”
“Surely she was just toying with you?”
“She sounded serious to me.”
“I suspect she’s still sore at you for solving her case last fall.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “You think? She should be grateful, not resentful.”
“You showed her up in front of her coworkers.”
“I didn’t try to show up anyone. Why is she taking it so personally?”
Jenny shrugged. “Some people are like that.”
“I told Matthew she would try to pin this on me. He said I was worrying about nothing.”
“He’s right,” Jenny said. “There’s a big difference between being irritated with you and trying to pin a murder on you. Is that what your argument with Matthew was about?”
Talking about that was just about the last thing in the world I felt like doing. Luckily, the door flew open and Marnie came in, wearing a self-satisfied grin. “I don’t know if all the employees were back, but I spoke with a very nice young man—the clerk in the permit department and listen to this. It turns out that the occupancy permit for the building was approved.”
“We already know that. What I need is to get my hands on it.”
“You’re not listening. The permit was approved for the entire building. That means your side too, Jenny.”
“What?!” Jenny and I exclaimed at the same time.
“How can that be?” Jenny continued. “Syd said I wouldn’t get it until I changed my electric panel.”
Marnie shrugged. “Don’t ask me why, but according to the clerk I spoke to, both places are ready to go. In fact, they’re registered as a single municipal address, so the one permit is all you ever needed.”
“Hm. Swanson told Sydney the complete opposite,” I said. “But I, for one, am not going to complain.”
“Neither am I,” Jenny said. “But what I can’t figure out is why would Swanson have lied to Sydney? I’d better call him before he books that electrician. He’ll be happy he won’t have to spring for all that work.”
I was thinking about what Jenny had just said. “Why would Swanson have lied?” I said. “I might have been inclined to think Syd made it up in order to stretch out the work, except that one of the people at city hall this morning said that Swanson was in the habit of giving contractors a hard time with permits—that they all hated him for it.”
“Now I feel bad that Syd was willing to pay for the labor out of his own pocket. He would have been losing a bundle on this job.”
Marnie gave me a puzzled expression. “That hardly makes sense. No contractor offers to pay for work out of the goodness of their hearts. If he offered, it can only be because there was something in it for him.”
Now that she put it that way, I
had to agree with her argument. “Like what?”
Marnie frowned. “I don’t know yet, but trust me, nobody works for nothing.”
“You do,” I pointed out. “You don’t charge me anywhere near what you should.”
“That’s because I get something other than money out of the arrangement. I get companionship. You know how lonely I am when I work at home.”
“I wonder,” Jenny said. “Do you think Syd could have misunderstood? I can’t imagine the inspector giving him a hard time for no reason.”
I doubted that. They’re both in the building business and both spoke the same language—constructionese.
“Where are our building permits?” Jenny said, marching over and tearing mine off the wall where it had always been prominently displayed. She handed it to me. Glancing at it, I saw that each step of the construction had been initialed as proof that they had all been completed. “If Swanson approved my side,” she said, “he would have initialed the electrical work.” She marched out of the shop and into hers. Marnie and I followed her. As we walked in, Jenny was already looking around, searching under tarps and cardboards.
“According to the rules, we were supposed to make sure the building permits were in plain sight,” she said. “Well, wherever it is, I don’t see it.”
“Hold on,” Marnie said. “If both places were considered a single unit all along, it would make sense that you only ever had the one building permit. And Sydney being a contractor, he would have known if there was only one permit for the entire building.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “In that case, he would have also had to know that if my side was approved, Jenny’s was too. It’s beginning to sound like Swanson was up to something, and Sydney was in on it.”
“In on what?” Jenny said, looking confused.
I was just as perplexed as she was.
Marnie and I returned to my shop, while Jenny prepared a fresh pot of coffee. A few minutes later she appeared in the doorway with a tray of steaming coffee mugs. “I called Syd to tell him he didn’t have to move the electrical box. He sounded surprised, not at all like someone who’d been caught in a lie.”
“Ha! Maybe he sounded surprised because he didn’t expect you to find out,” Marnie said.
Jenny disregarded the comment. “He’s just a few minutes away, so he’ll drop by and pick up the rest of his tools.”
“Did you tell him about Swanson?”
“I didn’t have the heart. I hate being the bearer of bad news.”
“It might not have been bad news,” I said. “According to Dempsey, one of the contractors who hated Swanson the most was Syd.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” she said. She always believed the best of everyone.
When I glanced at her, Marnie was watching me with a peculiar smile. “Why are you looking at me in that way?” I asked.
“No reason.”
“You’ve obviously got something on your mind. Tell me.”
“I was just noticing the gleam in your eyes as you were trying to solve the puzzle. You are playing detective again. Aren’t you?”
Chapter 7
Jenny and I started in my shop since mine was already prepped. Meanwhile, Marnie armed herself with brooms and mops and countless rolls of masking tape, and began cleaning Jenny’s store.
“This paint job might not be as perfect as what Sydney’s crew could do,” I said, dipping the roller into the pan. “But it’ll be finished faster.”
“Which is a good thing,” Jenny said.
“And we’ll be saving ourselves some money.”
“Which is an even better thing,” she added, laughing. “But I think you’re not giving us enough credit. I bet we can do it just as well.” She was on the ladder already cutting the edges of the ceiling with an angled brush. “As long as we stay inside the masking tape.” She chuckled. “But staying inside the lines was always a problem with me.”
“Not me. I used to be a business analyst—almost as anal as accountants. All inside the lines all the time.”
Fifteen minutes later, we had just started with the coat of primer, when Marnie came bursting in.
“Sydney’s here. He’s looking for his tool belt. Any idea where it might be?”
“Oops. That’s my fault,” I said. “I borrowed it to put up a few pictures on my living room wall and forgot to bring it back down.” I’d put up lovely pictures of Native weaving all over my bedroom wall as inspiration for my new collection. It had worked. So far, I’d completed two blankets, a dozen place mats, a few runners and some squares I planned to make into decorator cushions.
I wiped my hands with a rag. “I’ll be right back.” I raced up the stairs to my apartment, returning a few seconds later. “Here it is,” I said, walking into Jenny’s shop.
“Ah, that’s a relief,” Syd said. “There’s not much I can do without my measuring tape and hammer.” He grabbed the tool belt.
“By the way, did you hear about Swanson?”
“You mean about the electrical panel?” he asked, dropping his measuring tape. “Jenny told me I wouldn’t have to move it, and Marnie just told me the city had already passed it. I can’t figure it out, unless I misunderstood. Lucky for everyone she checked.” He made a production out of rearranging all the tools in his belt, the whole time, avoiding my eyes. I glanced at Marnie again, wondering if she was also noticing how fidgety he was.
“I was talking about his murder,” I said, watching for his reaction.
“Murder? What are you talking about? Are you telling me that Swanson is dead?” I wasn’t sure what was behind the expression in his eyes, except that it didn’t look like surprise. There had been an instant of something like elation, quickly replaced by fear. Already my mind was jumping to conclusions.
“I’m afraid he is.”
“Swanson is dead?” he repeated, this time, as if he was trying to sound sad. It was a poor attempt.
“He was murdered. Somebody hit him over the head hard enough to split it open.”
He leaned against the wall as if his legs could no longer support him. “I knew a lot of people hated him, but I never imagined—”
I waited, hoping he would expand on this.
He blew out a breath. “He was a city inspector. He had a way of making enemies.” That was pretty close to what Ronald Dempsey had said just a few hours ago. He shook his head, as if in disbelief. This reaction also seemed off. “Poor guy. That’s a real shame.” I wondered if Marnie and Jenny heard the insincerity in his comments as I did. “That’ll be especially hard on his family. He just got married again a few months ago. At least his wife won’t be entirely by herself. Her sister and brother-in-law moved here.” He paused. “Do the cops have any idea who did it?” This time, the nervousness in his voice sounded real.
“Not that I’m aware,” I said. “How well did you know Swanson?”
“Considering I’ve been a contractor for the better part of my life, not all that well. A lot of my jobs didn’t involve permits—you know, flooring, kitchen cabinets, painting. That sort of stuff. I know he was buddies with some of the local contractors, but except for the occasional job, he and I never had much in common. He was a lot older than me.”
“Who was he friends with?”
He shrugged, glancing at the door as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there. “I don’t really know.” I waited, and after a few seconds of silence he expanded on that. “I saw him a couple of times at The Bottoms Up, with Ronald Dempsey.” I hid my surprise.
“You said Swanson was friends with other contractors. But Dempsey is a developer.”
“Developer, contractor, same difference.” He was now inching his way backward toward the exit. “He needed building permits just as badly I do. And he must have liked Dempsey’s work because I heard he was buying a house from him.” He reached the d
oor. “Marnie tells me you’ll be doing the painting yourself?”
“Yes. I hope you don’t mind,” I added, “but the renovations ended up costing way more than I expected. I figured I could save myself some money.”
“I understand,” he said. “So I guess that’s it then. Here’s my last bill.” He pulled an envelope from his shirt pocket and handed it to me, almost dropping it in his rush to leave. “I’ll pick up the check the next time I’m in the area.” He slung the tool belt over his shoulder, picked up the red toolbox at his feet, and stooping under the weight, he scurried out.
Marnie, who had been standing a few feet away, stared at the closed door. “Well! He sure was in a rush to get out of here. Don’t you think?”
“I got the same impression. In fact, I think it was really weird that he didn’t ask to be paid right away. I could have run upstairs to get my checkbook.”
“But then he would have had to stick around for another five minutes. Why do you suppose he was in such a rush?”
“He looked as nervous as a thief who’d just triggered a burglar alarm. What really surprised me is that he hadn’t heard of Swanson’s murder,” she continued.
“I’m surprised you didn’t tell him the second he walked in,” I said.
She winked. “Because I could have bet my best brownie recipe that you wanted to tell him yourself. I knew you’d want to see his reaction.” She tilted her head sideways. “I know you. You’re just dying to start snooping, aren’t you? In fact, I bet you already have a suspect. Judging by the way you were looking at him while you asked him all those questions, I could tell, you think Syd was the killer.”
I wouldn’t have put it that strongly, but after watching him squirm and then rush out the door, I was convinced that he was guilty of something. I just wasn’t sure what. Jenny mentioned something strange earlier,” I said. “According to her, Syd’s aura had been gray this morning instead of its usual blue—not that I believe any of that stuff. Her interpretation of that was he was lying.” I shrugged. “In this case, I think she might have been right—about the lying, I mean.”
Marnie nodded. “She told me the same thing.”
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