Malicious Mischief

by Marianne Harden

After several long breaths, I returned to Solo, who was back in the chair reading another magazine. “Mind-boggling,” I said, shaking my head.

  “All things considered he just might be.”

  I shoved my hands onto my hips. “More riddles? Really?”

  “Rylie, have you ever wondered why you’ve never told Zach how you feel?”

  “I know it’s hard to understand, but he and I have been friends a long time,” I said, knowing that was an exhausted cop-out. “Look, what happens if he doesn’t feel the same way as I do? How would it be possible to go on as before?”

  “True,” Solo admitted. “Things would change.”

  “I would hate that.”

  “In other words, you want things to stay the same.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I mean, no. Oh, hell, I don’t know what I want.”

  “Exactly.” He tossed the magazine on the table and rose. “Detective Talon seems like a good guy.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe, but I’m thinking he’s more a player, and I’m not into them. Players are like empty calories. Taste good, but come with a hefty price.”

  “Like Twinkies, those little creamy devils,” he said. “But you’ll never know what’s inside until you take a bite. Rylie, what if you’re wrong? You don’t even know him.”

  “Maybe,” I said, but the gamble wasn’t for me, nor was the sadness I had seen many friends suffer with bad boys. The ups and downs. The cheating, the regrets, the aching heart. “Let’s not get into this now. We have a murder to solve.”

  “All right,” he said, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation. “What I started to say earlier was there’s a restaurant on Lake Union called Great Scott Café. And guess what? It’s on Bintliff Pier.”

  I stared at him for a moment. “Ah-ha.”

  “Ah-ha, what?”

  “No idea. I just always wanted to say that. But seriously, you might be on to something. Talon just warned me about someone.”

  “Who?”

  “He didn’t say—wouldn’t say. Maybe there is a connection between Talon, the café, and the pier. And if so, who is Bintliff to Lipschitz, and why is he afraid of him?”

  “Sounds like one of life’s little mysteries. And you know how we like mysteries.”

  “Oh, yes we do,” I said, smiling, “But you realize we have only twenty-four hours to solve Otto’s murder. Granddad will be home by lunchtime tomorrow. And with Lipschitz threatening to charge me with obstruction—”

  “Obstruction, really? That’s hardcore,” he said.

  “More like two shots, close range. And it would be the end of everything: Granddad accepting me as a PI and paying our back taxes.”

  “Not to mention possible jail time.”

  “Solo, we can’t drag this out. We have to—no, we will solve this case in one day.”

  “Well, look at you. Miss Confident. And I know just the thing to get us started.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Buddhist Monks,” he said.

  “And we’re talking about monks because?”

  He blew out a breath. “Earlier, me, telling you a sand drawing was in the station’s public lobby to celebrate the marathon. Trust me it will bring us good Karma.”

  “I dunno. We’re burning daylight as we speak.”

  “Come on, it’s barely nine am. And let’s face it, to solve this murder fast we are going to need all the good karma we can get. Ten minutes, that’s all I ask.”

  He grabbed my arm, and humoring him, I let him drag me toward the exit. We were about fifteen feet away when the doors opened and a young police officer hauled inside a handcuffed teeny-tiny Asian woman. She wore a black leather jumpsuit, spiked dog collar, and on her feet were silver pumps tall enough to lift Faye Ray into King Kong’s paw. A fierce look—one I could never hope to equal—twisted her Chihuahua-size face as she sputtered out a boatload of foreign words.

  Solo nudged me. “Those are Korean swear words.”

  “I didn’t know you knew Korean.”

  “I don’t, but I watched a marathon of Korean movies on Netflix last month when I had the flu. Oooo, what’s that smell?”

  I took a whiff. Bleh. “I dunno.”

  “It’s really gamey.”

  The officer dragged the woman to the counter, told the booking cop her name was Happy Hye, and that he’d picked her up for solicitation.

  Two more police officers barreled in from outside. Because his head was wagging, the handcuffed man between them was hard to see. Though from what I could see, he looked like Woody Allen in leather and chains: sandy blond hair, enormous horn-rimmed glasses over a black mask. Dragging his feet, he forced the officers to lift him by the arms.

  “I couldn’t even get the handcuffs to work,” the man said, head down, whimpering.

  Solo and I exchanged a wide-eyed looked, sighed in unison. It was our boss, Leland Rosenberg.

  “I never do this sort of thing,” Leland said to the officers. “It’s my birthday. I’m having a big party tonight. How about letting me off with just a warning?”

  “Birthday party!” Happy Hye yelled from the booking desk where she stood ready for a mug shot. “So I’m good enough to have sex with, but not invite to your party?”

  “Geez, I’m trying to save my marriage, not make new friends,” Leland said as he and the officers paused several feet away from the booking desk to wait their turn.

  I inched up, angling closer. Solo mirrored me.

  “How’s banging me gonna save your marriage?” Happy Hye screamed.

  Leland craned his neck, the chain fixed from his collar to waist straining. “My wife says nothing screams sexy like a dominated man. I’m a perfectionist. I had to practice.”

  “And you made me talk nerdy to you, too,” Happy Hye said, glaring at the camera as the officer snapped the shot. “Broke ass or not, I should have demanded more money. Enzymes, proteins, acid, or race. What dung.”

  We inched even closer.

  Leland looked at the ceiling, sighing. “Now I’ve heard everything. It’s base, not race.” Then his eyes fell on me. “Oh, hello, Rylie.” He did a good job of sounding normal. “She got that last part wrong. When you think of acid, don’t you naturally think of base? That’s the way my mind works anyway.”

  I blinked, taking in the full impact of his clothing, recognizing them as part of Lilith’s domination collection. “Leland, what’s with the sunglasses?”

  Solo leaned in. “You look at those threads and sunglasses are what you’re nosy about?”

  “I thought it best to start at the top, and then work my way down,” I said.

  “This is really rather embarrassing,” Leland said. “The sunglasses are camouflage, in case someone from my synagogue sees me. Shlomo’s Deli is next door. They make the best cheese blintz.”

  Solo took in a big sniff. “Boss, is it my imagination or do you smell like venison?”

  “Yeah, I reek of the stuff. She made me eat before we had—” Leland lifted his shoulders, then let them fall. “She said it would give me a robust—” He blushed crimson. “But I don’t think it was venison. Horse, maybe. You know how well they’re—”

  “Gifted,” Solo suggested, grinning.

  Leland nodded, looking wistful. “Must be nice to be a horse.”

  “Oh, pleeeezzze,” Happy Hye wailed from the booking desk. “It was dog meat, dork!”

  “What?” Leland said, his eyes wide open. “Dog meat is forbidden under Jewish law. Oh, God! What will my mother say?”

  “Time to see a man about a mug shot,” the officer said, grabbing Leland by the arm.

  “Oh, why not?” he said. “I’m broke. How bad can jail be?”

  “For real, broke?” I asked, my eyes bulging now.

  “Yeah, but I want to keep it a secret,” he whispered. “The FDA suspended trial of my anti-frailty drug, something about liver damage. Go figure. Kidneys, we got two, but my drug puts holes in a solitary organ. I can fix it, though,” he said, “but not fro
m jail. Rylie, without this approval, I’ll be forced to sell FoY.”

  No FoY, no job, no money for back taxes, no affordable housing for the seniors. Uh-oh. “Not to worry, Leland,” I said. “Just post bail and you’ll be out of jail in an hour.”

  Solo nudged me. “Tell him about Otto being murdered.”

  “Huh?” Leland said. “Otto Weiner was murdered?”

  I quickly related the details of how the body was found.

  “Holy cow,” he said. “How did he die?”

  Happy Hye being led away from the booking desk interrupted my answer.

  “All right, lover boy,” one of the officers said to Leland. “Mug shot time.”

  Happy Hye dug in her heels as they passed each other.

  “Hey, dork,” she said to Leland. “Maybe you not so broke ass. Maybe you buy my client list real cheap, ten grand maybe. It full of big business honchos, real estate moguls, and even billionaire Dilbert Bates’s bodyguard.”

  “The one who let a pie hit Bates in the face?” Solo asked.

  “That’s the one,” she said testily and turned back to Leland. “Some might pay a little something to keep their names a secret. What do ya think, huh? We got a deal, dork?”

  “Oh, that’s a good idea, boss,” Solo said with enthusiasm. “The extra money will come in handy, especially since they think you killed Otto. You’re gonna need a high priced attorney.”

  “What?” Leland stared at me in what appeared to be a shocked stupor as the officers dragged him to the desk. Once there, he snapped out of it enough to mouth my way, “Help.”

  I pointed to the phone on Yancy’s desk and mouthed back, “Call me.”

  He looked confused, so I rushed over and lifted the receiver.

  After he hesitated for a beat, he nodded. “Officer,” he said to the booking cop, “I get one phone call, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can I call any phone?”

  “Yep.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the number for the phone on the desk over there?”

  If there was one thing I hated more than waiting around, it was waiting around a police lobby in fear of running into Lipschitz again. Some might say I’m chicken. They would be right. It wasn’t that booking Leland was taking longer than usual. Nope, he was cooperative and uncomplaining to the officers, but his restrictive get-up made removing his belongings from his pockets difficult. Add to that how his black leather mask got stuck on his head. It was tight and almost tore off an ear when the officers tried to help him take it off.

  Solo and I were sitting on the floor, eating licorice, two cowering figures huddled in the corner behind Yancy’s desk, our backs to the wall, and our legs out straight.

  “Is he almost done?” Solo said, turning to me as I had a better view. “I have a wedgie beyond belief, or at least I think I do. My ass is numb.”

  “That can be a mixed blessing. The numb ass,” I said, “not the wedgie.”

  “Ssshh,” Yancy hissed down from his desk chair. “Here comes trouble. Lipschitz just left the men’s room.”

  We fell silent. Yancy was great to hide us. There was something awesome about him fudging the rules to let two suspects talk. Done, I suspected, out of our long-lasting respect and appreciation for each other.

  “Thank all that is good and holy, Lipschitz is gone,” Yancy said after a moment, “but it’s a safe bet he’ll be back.”

  Some minutes later, the desk phone rang. Yancy answered it then covered the receiver as he held it out for me. “I’m on marathon duty in ten minutes, so hurry.”

  I nodded, took the phone. “Leland, we gotta make this quick. Can you talk freely?”

  “God, no, but I’ll do my best,” he said. “What’s this all about? Who killed Otto?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. And I’ve got only one day to do it, so tell me everything you know.”

  “Rylie, I have two doctorates. That could take some time.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Listen, did you tell Booth last night that you hoped Otto would get what was coming to him?”

  “Sheesh, I wasn’t referring to murder,” he said.

  “What then?”

  “Otto lost his watch to Booth in a late night poker game last week, only Otto threatened to file a complaint accusing Booth of stealing it.”

  “Did he? Steal it, I mean,” I said.

  “It was a fair game. Otto threw the watch into the pot once he ran out of money.”

  “What’s the watch worth?” I asked.

  “Twenty grand.”

  I whistled. “That’s a lot of scratch. How come I never saw Otto wearing such an expensive watch?”

  “He never wore it. Said it irritated his psoriasis,” Leland said, sounding unconvinced.

  “And you didn’t believe him?”

  Silence. “More important is that Booth is worried because it’s his word against Otto’s.”

  “Weren’t there other players?” I asked.

  “Two, but Wally dozed off and the Colonel had to leave for a swig of Pepto-Bismol.”

  I paused when Solo whispered a question in my ear. “Leland,” I said finally, “why does Booth have your cell phone?”

  “That’s a story that isn’t mine to tell. Ask him.”

  I thought about Booth’s mutual friend comment. “Are you saying he has a history with Happy Hye?”

  “It’s complicated, but don’t worry. It has nothing to do with Otto or his murder.”

  I looked down at the questions I’d scribbled on a scratchpad while waiting for Leland to call. “Did you meet Doris and Cokey Bill Oley at the laboratory on a regular basis?”

  “Every Sunday morning, six thirty sharp. I’d have been there this morning if the cops hadn’t arrested us at Crossroads Park.”

  “It’s only ten. What took you so long to get here?” I asked

  “It was totally weird, they cordoned off the area, no traffic in, none out.”

  “Why?”

  “Dogs were everywhere. Seems they escaped from Crossroads Animal Shelter. I was handcuffed in the back of the cruiser, but Happy Hye was outside stomping her foot in a blind furry at a little dachshund. It was awful. The poor thing had only three legs.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “Did she hurt it?”

  “Don’t think so. It ran off.”

  I refocused on my list. “Did you schedule two fish deliveries for this morning, one at daybreak, and one later?”

  “Nope, only the one. Why? What’s happened?”

  Long silence. Then. “I met the Oleys this morning. At the laboratory, in the back parking lot. We talked a little. Tossed around some fish. Leland, I swear to God, they were both living one moment then bam they were dead the next.”

  Even longer silence.

  “And you wanna know what’s funny?” I chuckled, but it came out as a squeak. “The police think you convinced me to get rid of Otto’s body in the laboratory incinerator. Only they think you wanted to frame me by hiring the Oleys to kill me so I couldn’t talk.”

  Long drawn-out silence.

  “But don’t worry. I don’t believe it for a minute. Leland?” I said, peering around the desk. “You still there? I can’t see you. Leland? Leland?”

  I heard a thud, followed by the booking officer shouting, “Man down!”

  Come to the dark side. We have cookies

  Alistair was slouched across the desk from Granddad when Solo and I entered his office after a quick knock. Both men were cackling. Granddad’s eyes were bright. It was great to see.

  “I know what’s going on here,” I said, my cheeks burning. “You told Granddad about what happened in the panel truck, about Cokey Bill Oley seeing my bare behind.”

  Alistair fell into a deeper fit of laughter.

  “Rylie.” Granddad lifted his bifocals, wiped his eyes. “Life with you is an adventure.”

  Is that a good thing? “What a horrible morning. Nice sunrise, though,” I said, checking my wa
tch. “Shouldn’t you be leaving for Portland? It’s after ten.”

  Granddad bolted up to his feet. I immediately regretted asking, as sudden movement was not good on a damaged heart. “Goodness,” he said, appearing all right. “I forgot the time. The fair is in three hours.”

  “Wish you didn’t have to rush off,” Alistair said. “We could have breakfast.”

  “I’m back tomorrow,” Granddad said. “How about lunch?”

  “That works,” Alistair said.

  Granddad looked at me. “You’ll need a ride home. I can drop you both off.”

  “We’re good. Solo wants to check out the sand drawing in the lobby.”

  “You’ll need to go outside, around the building,” Alistair said. “The cleaning crew broke the glass door that connects the two lobbies.”

  I remembered something. “I also have to put in an hour at FoY’s booth at the marathon.”

  “Yeah, Tita will chap our asses—sorry,” Solo said, two dots of red rising on his chubby cheeks. “I mean, her blood will boil if we don’t make it.”

  “We’ll catch the bus after,” I said, and he started to leave but I called, “Granddad,” and he looked back. “I love you.”

  He flashed a small uncomfortable smile. “Me, too. Be careful.”

  I planned to be and told him so. “See you tomorrow,” I said, as he closed the door behind him. I turned back to Alistair. I didn’t know the wisdom of my next action, but it was all I could think of. “Granddad is worried about me.”

  “That his gut is twisting would be a fair statement,” he said.

  “For the sake of argument, let’s assume he’s asked you to keep an eye on me.”

  “For the sake of argument,” he confirmed.

  I thought it a good time for barefaced honesty. “You know how I’ve always wanted to be a private detective, and how Granddad is against the idea?”

  I received a nod in return.

  “And your opinion on this is what?”

  “Mixed,” he confessed. “Healthy birds leave the nest. Who’s to say, you might soar.”

  So sweet, this one.

  “But it can be dangerous, Rylie. No man wants his loved ones in danger.”

  “Alistair, how long have you and Trudy been married?”