Without even asking, I stood up and poured the man a cup of coffee. Usually, I use one of those little single cup doohickeys, but this was a coffee binge kind of day, so I had made a whole pot.
“Great!” I said. “Did you find more incriminating evidence that puts me on your most wanted list?” A wry smile spread across his face, so much like James Garner!
“You’re on my most wanted list, but it has nothing to do with this case.”
“Oh, stop it. You’re embarrassing me.” I blushed for the second time today.
“Geez, don’t tell me you don’t like flirting any better than compliments.”
“I like it. I just haven’t had much practice lately with either.”
“Stick with me, kid, and you’ll get plenty of practice with both.” He wore such a smug, determined expression it made me laugh. Not to mention he was using that hokey private eye voice again.
“Sure thing, but it’ll take me a little time.”
“Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.” His voice took on a more serious tone. He put both hands behind his head and stretched. “We only have a few minutes before our meeting. I guess we’d better get down to business. You go first.”
“I suppose Carol told you I had a visit from Linda Grey. She’s scared, and she’s worried about Dorothy. You need to speak to Linda. See if you can help her sort things out.” I quickly filled him in on the rest of our conversation. “Linda has no idea what Dorothy meant when she said she knew what was going on. I wonder if it has something to do with this.” I handed him the photo Linda had given me earlier. Jack let out that low whistle he had used the day before when I suggested we dine at Blue Pacific.
“Mallory got around, didn’t she? That’s something I wanted to talk to you about—hanky-panky between Mallory and corporate associates. One reason Debbie Dinsmore and her friends disliked Mallory is that she stole their boyfriends. She collected boy-toys like Cruella went after those 101 Dalmatians. Megan Donnelly knew about it, too, apparently. Debbie Dinsmore says Megan became livid about all the trouble Mallory caused among park associates.” Jack took another look at that person in that photo. “He’s no boy-toy, though, is he?”
8 Identity Crisis
It was nearly dark when I reached my car. That’s not unusual at this time of the year. It’s often dark when I arrive at work and dark when I leave. Close by, I could hear a bicycle bell, one of those old-fashioned, pre-electronic-era bells that ring when you move a little lever. Max Marley loves them, and he’s had bells installed on a fleet of bicycles that guests could use in Buddy Bear’s Bicycle Bonanza. It is a rather pleasant sound—nostalgic, reminding me of riding with childhood friends at a furious pace through our suburban neighborhood.
I wasn’t at all surprised by the sound. We have the same kind of bicycles here on the grounds of the World Headquarters complex. That includes the administrative building where I work, as well as Marvelous Marley Research & Development; Marvelous Marley Communications; Marvelous Max Studios; Marvelous Marley Foods; and several other buildings in the park-like campus.
I had almost reached my car when I heard the sound again—louder this time. I turned around just in time to see Buddy Bear hurtling toward me on a company bicycle. The frozen smile on the character’s face did not reassure me. I dashed around the front of my car to the driver’s side and jumped inside, setting off the car alarm at the same time. Buddy Bear followed. As he came around the front of my car, still going at a good clip, I flung open my driver side door. He slammed on his brakes, but too late. The bike went one way and Buddy Bear the other. In less than a minute, a Marvelous Marley World security team pulled up and jumped out. I hollered so they could hear me above the blaring car alarm.
“Buddy Bear tried to run me down on his bicycle. Don’t let him get away. Call the police!” I was hopping mad as I shut off the car alarm. Not only because I had come so close to being mowed down, but now I had an insurance claim to file. I couldn’t wait to explain how my door had gotten dented by a rampaging, make-believe bear on a bike.
Buddy Bear sat up. He adjusted the lopsided furry head he wore and looked around. When he tried to stand, the larger of the two security guards tackled him. Bear and guard landed on the ground with a loud “oomph.”
“Move another paw and my partner will zap you with his Taser, Buddy Bear.” That was a statement I never imagined hearing. I climbed out and leaned against my car while waiting for a response from the police to the call security had made.
Thank goodness members of the press, who had been milling about earlier in the day, had left. We had orchestrated another briefing to satisfy their demand for news about the murder at Catmmando Mountain. As planned, Jack had participated, this time, confirming that Mallory Marley-Marston was indeed the victim. He assured the press that a thorough investigation was still underway, but police had no reason to suspect Arcadia Park’s guests were in any danger.
Doug had wrapped up the event with a few words about the loss of a valued member of our corporate family. Then he delivered an emotional appeal for the press to respect the Marley family’s privacy at this difficult time. If we were caught on video again, I bet it would reveal that Jack watched Doug this time, while I watched Jack. What had he learned by observing Doug?
I was disappointed that Jack hadn’t tracked me down or called later in the day. Ridiculous, I know since he was running a murder investigation. Now that he had discovered evidence of Mallory’s penchant for collecting men, the list of potential assailants had grown by leaps and bounds. As Jack had pointed out, many of the men must have had furious girlfriends or wives.
I urged him to ask Debbie and Megan more about that. They should be able to tell him which coworkers were upset by Mallory's behavior around their boyfriends. Megan had faced an almost untenable situation—caught between angry subordinates and a ruthlessly inappropriate superior who also happened to be the park owner’s daughter. She should, at least, have kept records of the complaints from associates, even if she hadn’t decided what to do about them.
Mallory’s hunting grounds had extended beyond Arcadia Park. The men in Mallory's life now included my boss, Doug, their tryst captured in that photo Linda had found. Taken at an even pricier restaurant than the Blue Pacific, the place catered to celebrities. Paparazzi had snapped that particular picture of Mallory and Doug.
Someone in the media had added a caption: “In recovery, Marvelous Marley’s enterprising heiress eats! Who’s the Mystery Man?” From the way their fingers touched while toasting whatever they were celebrating, it appeared that dinner was about more than business. When one of the security guards removed Buddy Bear’s fake head, I was jolted back into the present.
“Dale? Dale Kinkaid? Why on earth did you try to run me down?” I shook a finger at my coworker as if that would do a bit of good.
“I’d like to hear the answer to that question, too.” We all turned to see Jack walking toward us.
“What are you doing here?”
“Carol said you had just left. She thought I might be able to catch you if I hustled to your parking spot. I have news, but it looks like you're facing a new situation of your own.” He nodded at the half-man, half-bear sitting on the ground.
“You had it coming to you for being stuck up—a liar too! I saw you out with him last night,” Dale whined.
“I’m a liar? What about? Were you spying on me?” I struggled to grasp what he was saying.
“You told me you don't date men you meet on the job. That was a lie. I caught you! Don’t get yourself all worked up about it.” Dale spoke with a sneer on his face.
“She doesn’t have to get worked up about it. Leave that to me,” said Jack.
“What’s it to you, Detective? One date doesn’t give you any claim on her.”
“I don’t have a claim on her, but guess what? As it turns out, the State of California has one on you, isn’t that right, Kyle?” Jack turned from the unmasked bear toward me before he co
ntinued.
“Georgie, meet Kyle Kincaid. It looks like Buddy Bear here has an identity crisis. Dale is his brother’s name. Kyle, here, is well-known to police all over the area—not just Orange County, but LA and Riverside Counties. You’re not the first target of his spying. Sometimes his spying gets out of hand, doesn’t it, Buddy Bear? I’m sure this latest incident will get the state to revoke his parole.”
“Good grief, are you saying the guy’s a Peeping Tom or a stalker?”
“A bit of both. Make that a lot of both. His brother is not happy that he stole his identity to get this job. His driver’s license is a fake. We can add identity theft to Kyle’s rap sheet now too, along with whatever the D.A. decides to charge him with for attempting to run you down.” Jack shook his head. “Not the teddy bear type, is he?”
“No, and he’s no Catmmando Tom, either. Max does not like his characters to be defamed or degraded. I would not be surprised if Max goes after him now, too.” I thanked my lucky stars, once again, that the press had left for the day. Finding out Catmmando Tom was, in fact, a Peeping Tom would have been a hard story to keep under wraps. Thus far, out of respect or sympathy for Uncle Max, they had refrained from publishing sensational accounts of Mallory’s death. Then it hit me. What about all that noise outside my house last night?
“Did you follow me home last night, Kyle?”
“I’ve said all I have to say. Arrest me if you’re going to do it. I want a lawyer, and I want to make a deal. I know plenty about what goes on around here. Nobody takes that no-dating-on-the-job policy seriously except you, Georgie.” As he uttered those words, a police car drove up. Jack greeted the uniformed officers and then let the security guy with the Taser gun fill them in on Buddy Bear's escapades and his identity.
“Jack, you might want to send someone to go through my garbage. There’s a chance Kyle was doing more than spying last night and left me another Valentine.” I explained what had gone on outside my house the evening before. Jack called the police department right away and asked to have a team meet us at my house.
I glanced at Kyle. Cuffed, and sitting on the ground, he appeared harmless enough. It still gave me the creeps to think about him outside my home. Once I had seen those cats run for it, I hadn't given the incident much more thought. My house is in a gated community, guards patrol the streets, and Jack had asked for extra police patrols. Despite having been nabbed by the police in the past for his behavior, Kyle must have some skills to have sneaked in and out of my community like that without detection.
A second look at Kyle in that Buddy Bear outfit made me smile. Whether he realized it or not, Kyle was in over his head this time. When Jack finished his call, I spoke loud enough for Kyle to hear.
“You know, taking Kyle into custody is the best thing that could happen to him. He’s toast when Max Marley finds out about this. Especially, if he had anything to do with his daughter’s death or misleading authorities about the investigation of her murder. A smart guy would start talking and not stop until he had given you every bit of information he has about what goes on around here.” As the police picked him up off the ground and guided him to their patrol car, Kyle scowled at me.
“True enough,” said Jack. “But does Buddy Bear strike you as a smart guy?”
“Not as smart as he thinks he is, that's for sure.”
“You would not believe the trail of carnage that woman left in her wake over the years,” Jack said a while later. We stood on my lawn in the illumination provided by exterior lighting. More light streamed from the windows of my house. Every light in the house was on.
"Mallory was in and out of rehab, racked up gambling debts, got arrested for drunk driving, and had assault charges filed against her—paparazzi, mostly. Her father has worked long and hard to get her under control and keep her out of prison.” Jack scuffed the ground in disgust.
“Your boss is an idiot if he got caught in her web. Why would he put his marriage in jeopardy and risk his job for a fling with a woman like that?”
“I didn’t know about Doug’s involvement with Mallory or any trouble in his marriage. He never said a word to me about it.”
It was my turn to scuff the ground a little. Shocked by new revelations about another colleague, I understood how Jack could find Doug’s behavior disturbing. I wanted to call it a day, climb into bed, and pull the covers over my head.
Calling it a night wasn’t possible under the circumstances. Jack and I had to wait while the criminal investigators finished poking around in my garbage, looking for evidence that Dale or Kyle—whoever he was—had left when prowling around my house the night before.
“Doug wouldn’t be the first man to rely on the wrong part of his anatomy to make a decision about a woman, Jack.”
“I guess so. She was a younger woman. Not my type, but some men go for model-thin. I suppose it didn’t hurt that she was also filthy rich—or would be someday. Max kept Mallory on a short leash, given she often used money in stupid and illicit ways. Still, her salary plus an allowance from daddy put her in a higher pay grade than Doug’s. From that photo, it looks as though she was wining and dining the man. An affair could explain why his wife left him several months ago.”
I caught movement from the corner of my eye. Miles was pacing, perched inside on a windowsill. When I first introduced Jack, Miles had been friendly enough. The detective even got a welcome yowl—a different greeting altogether than the one Miles has for me when I return home.
However, when things didn’t go as usual after that, and we disrupted his routine, Miles made it known he was not happy. Even with the windows closed, I could hear his bellows every occasionally. His tail switched as he watched us waiting for the criminal investigators to finish going through my trash. As bad as my job seemed to be at times, earning your keep by going through garbage had to be worse.
“The havoc continues even after Mallory’s death,” I said. “Poor Max will never be the same. Debbie Dinsmore and Linda Grey are both out of commission for a few days, at least. Heck, I may need time off, too, if another colleague turns out to be living a double life like Doug and Kyle. Or worse, if a bloodthirsty killer keeps planting evidence on me!”
“Well, Kyle has lawyered up. By tomorrow, if we don’t come up with something to get him talking, the D.A. may offer that weasel a deal. I’m going to have another chat with your boss, too—tonight since I couldn’t corner him in private earlier today. We’ll see what Doug has to say about that photo. It’s not looking good for him or Dorothy Sayers, for that matter. Neither of them has provided us with an alibi. Dorothy Sayers was a no-show for her interview today. After Linda Grey’s revelations, I sent investigators to Ms. Sayer’s house to pick her up and bring her in for questioning. No luck. Maybe she’s making a run for it. We’ve issued an alert to watch for her plates and are checking for credit card charges in her name.”
“That’s not good, is it?” I asked.
Before he could answer, we heard a shout.
“Got something!”
We walked around to the side of the house. I was still wearing the red heels I had chosen to go with my red dress. My shoes poked holes in the grass and got snagged on something. For a moment, I lost my balance. Jack reached out and grabbed my arm to steady me. Snap, crackle, pop.
“Sorry, I should have changed these shoes when we went inside.”
He leaned in and whispered. “Nah, red is your color.” Make that: sizzle, sizzle, snap, crackle, pop.
“What have you got?” Jack hollered, as we approached a guy in a hazmat suit. The investigator said nothing, but he held up a wicked-looking boning knife.
“What do you want to bet that’s our murder weapon, Georgie?” Jack asked as he shook his head in frustration.
“Your murder weapon—it’s not mine!”
9 TGIF
I spent another night tossing and turning. Half asleep, I went over and over the people Jack and I had discussed. I racked my brain, rehashing recent interactions
with Doug and Dorothy, Dale, who I now knew was really Kyle, Carol, and Linda. Even poor terrified Purrsilla, and her distressed supervisor Megan Donnelly. How had I missed the fact that one of them was capable of murder? These weren’t strangers on the news, but colleagues and associates at a place where I felt safe, even when stressed out. One of the people I dealt with, perhaps on a daily basis, wanted to frame me for a horrendous murder.
The past two days had been two of the longest days I had spent on earth. I could recall only one other time in my life that I had felt so much like my world had turned upside down, overnight. Was that why this situation was getting to me? I stopped myself from thinking about that anymore. Sinking into the memories of that dark, dismal period in my past wouldn't help me cope with the current situation. It could even make matters worse, as I had learned the hard way.
“TGIF,” I whispered, as I rolled over and found myself eyeball to eyeball with Miles.
“Are you still mad at me?” His response was a prolonged “Yeow” as he took off down the hall toward the kitchen. I took that to mean our relationship was intact, routine reestablished. Miles had been in a snit by the time the criminal investigators hauled away my garbage, and I said goodnight to Jack. I had spent a good half hour talking him down from his perch on top of the fridge. I resorted to bribery—tuna and peanut butter—two of his favorite treats. The peanut butter did it. I talked to him nonstop for the next twenty minutes and finally got a head bonk, followed by purring.
My ruminating about “whodunit” had started after that—even before I climbed into bed. It continued this morning. If I had to make a list of people who had it in for me, who would be on it? I struggled to recall the last time I’d had it out with anyone other than Mallory. No one came to mind before last night when I had that row with Buddy Bear.
I had given Dorothy high marks on her last performance review, which was another reason she had been moved up into the position I vacated. Off the record, I had suggested she continue to work on her people skills, and we had identified several professional development options that might help her do that.
Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Box Set Page 7