by Linda West
I tossed another log on the fire and prodded it around with the steel poker.
Then I cleared my throat and refocused. Carol was still in jail, and I had a mission bigger than my own ego. For once.
“So how was she killed?” I asked again.
Jamie patted his mouth with a napkin. “It looks like she was strangled by one of her own fishnet stockings.”
I gasped.
“Unlike Jackson's,” Jamie went on, “this looks more like it could've been passion driven.”
“What does that mean – passion driven? For the amateur sleuth here, can you take it slow?”
Jamie had to laugh at me. “You're so darn cute, Kat. The way things come flying out of your mouth. You're so real.”
I shrugged.
I came back over to the table and took a bite of the quiche left on Jaime’s plate. It was good, if I do say so myself.
“Kat, you know Carol well. She had a relationship with Jackson before she married the doctor. Mia had bruises all over her body. Do you know if Jackson was abusive?”
I thought back to her in the car and the bruise I had seen. “I saw a bruise on her arm the other day, but I thought maybe it was from my bottle cap. I thought she might have been the attacker that night in a disguise. Do you think the bruises were made by her killer?” I questioned.
“It looks like some of them may have been new, but by the looks of them – many were older. In other words – somebody's been abusing that girl for a while.”
My eyes widened. “So you think it was Jackson?”
“Well, he would've been at the top of the list, but he's dead. Since these bruises are new, I'm thinking possibly the murderer knew Mia better than we think, and she was holding out on us. I think she knew exactly who killed Jackson, and she decided to take the money and run.”
“I remember I was talking to her, and when I saw the bruise, she wasn’t happy about it.”
Jamie reached over and took my hand. I remembered Mr. Maritime at the window of the café screaming into the phone. Had he been looking for Jackson? Jackson and his group showed up shortly after he had been looking in the café window. I told this to Jamie too.
“Mr. Maritime… I don’t know how he’s involved, but he might have a part in this.” I shuddered as I realized that Mr. Maritime fit my mysterious attacker in black as well.
“Helena was drunk, but she said that he had been expecting money too in Jackson’s will. That he was really upset because Jackson left them nothing but joke gifts and cigars and all his money went to Mia. Maybe someone should be interviewing him?”
“Kat, let’s go down to the police in Six Pines and tell them everything you suspect tomorrow,” said Jamie. “Right now let me take you home. Lock your door. I know it’s Kissing Bridge, and I know you've got your dad there so I don't have to worry about you – but I don’t want to see anything happen to you.”
I relented and let Jamie drive me home. It was late at night, and I really was freaked out by the whole second murder in our small town area. Somewhere out there, somebody was capable of multiple murders. I hoped and prayed that this was the last one.
CHAPTER 42
Diana Maritime was more than happy to come meet me at the bakery for lunch at my invitation. Mr. Maritime’s youngest, she had a joie de vivre and a love for a great meal. I only had to look up her number in the directory and she recognized my voice from childhood right away.
I sat Diana down at a small table by the sundries case that held the jams and homemade jellies. I brought over some coffee and cream then scooted behind the bakery window to grab some goodies.
Ethel served her another plate of those triangular potato bread sandwiches. Diana folded them into her mouth with hums of pleasure.
“So good!” she said.
For the first half hour, we reminisced about the friendship our two families had shared over the years. I told her I still envied their family pool, and she laughed.
Then I asked about her mom and dad and she hesitated. I had my in.
“What’s going on – your mom and dad are in good health, aren’t they?”
Diana Maritime had strawberry blonde hair and bright saucer-sized hazel eyes. Her face was cherubic round, like her father’s, and even at thirty she looked like a little kid ready to do something bad. She was pulling on her bottom lip with her two front teeth like she always did when she was going to lie – or fib as she used to say. I stopped her.
“I’ve known you our whole lives, Diana, what’s going on? You can tell me.”
And just like that, Diana broke down and started crying.
People looked over, concerned, and Ethel gave me the eye.
I patted her hand; I guess she was just tired of holding it in and the sight of a caring – albeit, also self-serving in the name of Carol – friend, the floodgates of emotion had let loose.
“They invested all their money in an oil project with Jackson Jennings. My dad had brought him the deal, and Jackson had the equipment, and at first it was great. I mean, they made a lot of money. But Jackson kept putting my dad off about paying him back his investment, let alone the profits. Then the house got foreclosed and Jackson stopped returning dad’s calls... and then he was murdered.”
She looked up at me.
“Now he’s dead so there’s no chance of getting any of my father’s investment back, let alone the profit. They lost the house I grew up in – and all he left my poor dad was some joke toys and a stupid box of Cuban cigars. My dad doesn’t even smoke!”
I felt so bad for Diana.
But I was also worried that her father may be the new top suspect in Jackson’s murder.
********************
Ethel came over to see how things were going, and I mentioned how Mr. Maritime had just read the will. Ethel tried to remain casual as she leaned against our table.
“How are you enjoying the sandwiches, darling?” she cooed.
“Oh they are to die for, Ethel! My dad would be so jealous – these caprese sandwiches are his absolute favorite.”
The hair on my arms stood up. I had been looking for a reason to talk to Mr. Maritime myself and see what I could find out. Ethel was way ahead of me. She grabbed the caprese sandwich from off my plate that I hadn’t touched and made a big to do about wrapping it up.
“Well, Kat,” she said, drippingly sweet, “didn’t you mention we had to go right by Beacon Park this afternoon?”
I raised a brow. Ethel continued.
“Well that’s right by your father’s office, isn’t it, Diana?” said Ethel. Diana nodded, still shoving the sandwich into her mouth gleefully.
“Yeah he’s right there in the Halston Building.”
“Well, isn’t that coincidental. Why don’t I wrap this up and we’ll just drop this off for him. Everyone’s had such a terrible time of things and all.”
Diana nodded. “Thanks he’d love that!”
***
Ethel and I packed into the van and started down towards Mr. Maritime’s law office.
“So what’s going on with those sandwiches, Ethel? I saw you ready to bust a gut when you found out Dodie gave them to the book club.”
Ethel glanced at me but remained silent.
“Give it up. I’m your partner. I’m on a need-to-know basis, and right now – I need to know.”
Ethel looked in the rear view mirror then glanced at me again.
“Let’s just say they are special.”
I wasn’t settling for that.
“Special – how special?” I pressed.
She glanced at me again quickly, and focused back on the road.
“Special, as in maybe they make you want to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth…”
She made a big pretext about examining the street signs she’d seen a zillion times. I was done with this mumbo jumbo. Trying to solve the darn murder was enough for my simple mind.
“Gosh darn it, Ethel, can you just tell me the truth?�
�
A smile broke through her face at last. She told me the whole truth indeed.
Those dang sandwiches were some kind of magic!
“I made Brice take his shirt off!” I said.
Ethel just laughed. “I think that might be on you!”
Cherry wood furnished the offices of Maritime and Squell, and we strolled over sleek marble floors. It was lit with modern, cylindrical lights and expensive Italian couches that made you uncomfortable when you sat on them populated the lobby. After a few minutes, Mr. Maritime’s secretary called our names and escorted us inside his office. Mr. Maritime got up from his desk and shook both our hands.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, ladies?”
We presented the sandwiches. Their tangy fresh aroma filled his office and his portly face awakened with delight. He unwrapped it and his eyes lit up.
“This looks delicious and I haven't eaten all day! Thank you.”
“Go ahead and eat some,” Ethel said.
He pushed it away.
“No, no, that would be rude to you ladies. I don't want to take up your time watching me eat. Now, why are you here, exactly?”
Ethel kept pushing the triangular sandwiches.
“Please eat, Mr. Maritime! You’ll offend me if you don't eat it. You know I worked really hard on that special.”
“Well then, if I must.”
He took one large bite, ripping off the fluffy bread with his teeth.
Ethel waited until he swallowed, and then she pounced.
“We're wondering if you think that Helena or her son might have had a reason to kill Jackson Jennings.”
Maritime made a clearing sound with his throat like he was uncomfortable, then got up and locked the door to his big office.
He groaned when he fell down into his seat again.
“Listen ladies, I’ve known you a long time. Kat, I've known you since you were a little girl. I don't know what's going on, but there's something strange happening. I mean, other than the murder of Jackson and him lying in a bunch of chili. That was beyond horrible… but the last few days I saw him before he died, he seemed very edgy, and that wasn't like Jackson. We hadn't always seen eye to eye, but it's not like Jackson to back out on a business deal. He’s the one that insisted we add the provision to his will to make sure that I was repaid my investment in case of his death and that his sister would be sure to inherit his fortune. Then the other day, he and Mia show up and hands me a sealed document, with his wax insignia and all – seemed Jackson had gone and written up a whole new will!”
Ethel and I looked at each other.
“I didn't open it, but then I didn't expect he was going to be murdered either – or that he would take out the provision where he paid me back what he owed me!”
He continued to chew while Ethel and I scrutinized him.
“I lost everything. I had all my money tied up in my business with him and now there doesn’t seem to be any documentation that protects me. And I’m a lawyer. What a joke on me. That’s what he left me instead.”
Maritime pointed to a box of cigars in the middle of his bookshelf that ran floor to ceiling.
“I’ve never had a smoke in my life. My dad died of lung cancer.”
He shook his head. “The ultimate blow. He really had me fooled. I had thought we were friends at one time. His sister wasn’t much happier with the music box he left her either. She was traumatized when she opened it up and something seemed to be missing.”
He crossed his fingers together and rested them on his hefty stomach, recalling the scene. “Helena kept saying there was something very important gone, and it was very expensive…. and I'll tell you what – Mia seemed very interested in that. In fact, she looked like she wanted to just grab that music box right out of Helena's hands. As if she hadn't already stolen their whole inheritance…”
He suddenly glanced at the clock and stood up.
“I’m sorry, ladies – I just noticed the time. I have an appointment in a few minutes. We’re going to have to wrap this up. Thank you so very much for the wonderful sandwich. I'm definitely going to come to the grand opening of the café if you're serving food like this.”
Ethel snorted. “Of course we're going to be serving food like this. We’re the Landers, for goodness sake.”
Maritime led us to the door. I rushed to ask one more question.
“Mr. Maritime, do you think that Mia had any reason to be afraid of Jackson?”
He made a funny face. “If anything, he was afraid of her. I would check up on that girl. She would be my top suspect. I don’t think she’s quite what she seems.”
Mr. Maritime obviously hadn’t heard about Mia being murdered. Either that or he was playing us. He said it himself that he had lost his fortune because of Jackson. As much as I hated to consider it, maybe he was just trying to point the blame towards someone else. I glanced back at him studying some papers on his desk now, preparing for his next meeting.
“Mr. Maritime…” I said, putting one hand on the doorframe. “Mia is dead.”
CHAPTER 43
We went back to the café and shut the door behind us. The good news was they were releasing Carol; the bad news of course was it was because Mia was murdered while Carol was in captivity. They had interviewed Brice and Summer about the letter. But the letter itself was still missing. Still, it was good enough evidence to clear Carol enough to make bail, and go home.
Carol was now safely home (needless to say she took to the bed), but she still remained a suspect in the murder. Worst of all, the real murderer was still roaming free, and our main suspect was dead. We had to figure out a new plan of action. That required chocolate, according to Ethel. Who was I to say no?
Ethel grabbed a bowl, some cocoa, honey, cinnamon, and some brandy. Gosh darn it. So Ethel already knew my French liquor trick as well! So much for my handicap. She started whipping everything together in a frenzy.
“Okay, Jessica usually goes over all the evidence at this point and grabs the notebook.”
I pulled out our sleuthing notebook. Then I sat at a counter chair and considered what we had learned. Ethel set the timer on the oven and slipped the chocolate batter into some soufflé tins.
“There’s got to be a connection between the man you saw lurking around Jackson’s house and both of their murders. Are you sure we can rule out Mia as Jackson’s murderer? You said Jaime mentioned she had been wearing a fake pregnancy pad – maybe she also disguised herself to resemble a big man when she killed Jackson so we would never suspect her?”
I shook my head. “I considered that when I saw the bruise on her arm initially. I thought for certain it proved she had been the one I slung it at, but that wasn’t the only mark. As Jaime said, she was covered in bruises…”
Ethel popped the tins into the oven. The aroma of deep chocolate wafted up and enveloped me. I thought about it.
“When I talked to her the other day, she really didn't have any love lost for men. But I don’t think Jackson was the one hitting her either.”
Ethel pursed her lips. “Yeah, he’s not much bigger than she. She probably could have beaten him up. He was 85, for darn’s sake.”
“So who was responsible for the black and blue marks all over her body?”
We looked at each other. Mia was being abused by someone. She also had faked a pregnancy and had been the biggest beneficiary of Jackson’s death.
“Jaime also said she had suitcases in the car – as if she were leaving town.”
Ethel washed her hands.
“Maybe Mia was murdered because she was planning on running, but whoever killed Jackson wasn’t about to let her get away with all his money.”
I thought about it. “And he’s wearing my bottle cap mark…”
I filled in all the smaller details for Ethel from what Jaime had told me about Mia’s murder and my open discussion with Helena last night. Thanks to Ethel’s special sandwiches, Helena had really spilled the beans.
I thought back to Frankie and his black attire. Something wasn’t right there either. Helena and Frankie had gotten the raw end of the deal, so as had it seemed did Mr. Maritime. Mia would have had Jackson’s money anyway, as his wife. Did she really need to kill him? Not as much as Frankie wanted to go to Harvard, I bet. And that syringe in his pocket still hadn’t been fully explained. Still Brice had said Mia and some unknown man in black had been talking before the note was passed to Carol. The question was, did Mia know the man in black, or was she just an innocent messenger as Brice seemed to be? Now I’d never be able to ask her.