Fatal Feng Shui

by Leslie Caine

  “Michael, aren’t you cutting off your nose to spite your face here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you want to put your house on the market as soon as possible? How impressed are prospective buyers going to be by the likeness of your closest neighbor being hung in effigy on their new lawn?”

  His eyes widened. “You have a point. That won’t be good. Frankly, I thought the contraption would disappear overnight. I’ll for sure take it down before the For Sale sign goes up.”

  “You shouldn’t wait that long. You’re lucky you haven’t drawn photographers from the Sentinel out here so far. Buyers are already going to be aware that two people have died in this house. Now you’re publicly airing your ongoing squabbles with your neighbor. Buyers want homes where they’re going to like their neighbors, not want to hang them in effigy. Not to mention that you’ll be hammering home the fact that your neighborhood’s getting ruined by Pate’s development plans.”

  More color drained from Michael’s face. “Oh, God. I didn’t think of that. The press was already here. I’ll call the Crestview Sentinel now and threaten to sue if they run the photographs. Can you get rid of that thing in the meantime? Please?” He dashed back inside his house.

  Easier said than done, as it turned out. I untied Raggedy-Andy-cum-Pate, but the gallows were well constructed. The post had been sunk deep into the ground, and a supportive base prevented me from simply jiggling it back and forth till it came loose. I hoped I wouldn’t have to pull Roberto away from his work. While I struggled with the ugly contraption, I heard a car pull into Pate’s driveway. I turned. Rebecca Berringer. Gag me.

  She gave me a smug grin as she emerged from her car. Her stiletto heels were soon clicking on the concrete as she approached. “Well, Erin. I see you’re now expanding your business to include exterior design. Can’t say that I think much of your taste, however.”

  “I’m helping Michael remove this, as you undoubtedly already realized.”

  “Good decision. It just didn’t have the overall panache that your partner, at least, achieves with his designs.”

  Too irked to hold my tongue, I snapped, “I haven’t heard Steve mention your name lately. I take it things haven’t worked out between you two.”

  “Oh, on the contrary, we’re just choosing not to jinx our relationship by advertising it. We have a date on Friday night, as a matter of fact. At the Overlook.”

  Damn it! What the hell was Sullivan thinking? My cheeks were burning. I turned my back on Rebecca, pretending to be absorbed in removing the pseudo gallows once more. “Have a nice time,” I said over my shoulder.

  “At the Overlook? That’s a given. Yummy food…yummy companion.”

  My anger at Rebecca and Sullivan gave me new strength. I yanked the hideous thing up and out of the ground. Just then, Rebecca said, “Oh. Here he comes now!”

  Startled, I turned and indeed spotted Sullivan’s van heading this way. I let the gallows crash onto the lawn while he parked. Rebecca immediately yammered to him about how much she was looking forward to their date. I kept my back turned the whole time, pretending to be transfixed by kicking dirt into the hole. At length, she cooed, “See you soon,” and I heard a kissing sound just prior to her clacking footfalls as she made her way back toward Pate’s home.

  “Hey, Gilbert.”

  Don’t mention his date! I silently commanded myself as I turned and forced a smile.

  “Hi, Sullivan. I didn’t realize you’d be stopping by here.”

  “Likewise. Actually, I wasn’t planning on coming out, but a reporter called our office. Wanted to know if we had any comment on what our client had put in his front lawn. Thought I’d better see what was going on.”

  “That’s why I’m here, too. Pate told me about it.”

  “Ah. So you rushed right out and took it down. That must’ve pleased Pate to no end. Having you at his beck and call.”

  I clenched my fists. “If you were planning on spying on us at the Overlook Friday night, you’ll be disappointed. I canceled.”

  “You were going to the Overlook?”

  I rolled my eyes. “As if you didn’t already know that.”

  “Huh. That must be how Rebecca suddenly wound up with dinner reservations there on the busiest night of the week. He must have let her take them when you canceled. Must have figured he didn’t want to keep them if you weren’t joining him.”

  I had no response. “So you and Rebecca are still dating?”

  He ignored my question and opened his van door. “Now that I know you’ve got this under control, I’d better get going to the Kahns’ house.”

  “And I’m going to stop by Crestview Windows and get some prices on their bays.”

  Sullivan drove off. I watched as a biker in a black leather jacket headed down the hill, his engine noisy. To my surprise, he pulled up right beside me. He cut his loud engine and asked, “Is Antonio Scollotti here?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone by that name. The owner of the house is home, though…Michael Young?”

  “Nah, Antonio might be working here. Doing that feng shui stuff for the wife.”

  Antonio? “A man named Ang Chung used to do feng shui consultations here. Is that who you mean?”

  “Yeah, that’s gotta be him.” He laughed and shook his head. “So he’s calling himself by a Chinese name now? Should’ve guessed as much. He’s one crazy dude.”

  “How do you know Antonio, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “We were cell mates. At the Crestview County Jail. S’pose that freaks you out, though…talking to an ex-con and all.” He gave me a lopsided grin.

  “No, my brother spent some time in jail.”

  “Oh, yeah? He doin’ okay now?”

  I shook my head. “He died recently.”

  “Oh, hey, lady. Taylor Duncan was your brother?”

  “Yes. Did you know him?”

  “Antonio told me he was working here, too, as a carpenter. He was in the Crestview jail the same time we were.”

  chapter 22

  Taylor and Ang—Antonio, rather—knew each other from when they were in jail?”

  He frowned. “Ain’t like we were all pals or nothing, but yeah.”

  “Neither of them mentioned their having met before.”

  “Jail ain’t like high school, lady. Not a lot of good times, you know?”

  “Sure, but…” I was about to say that I was surprised Taylor hadn’t at least told me that Ang was working here under a false identity; Taylor must not have wanted to delve into any topic that would have prolonged our discussion about his jail time. In any case, the fact that Ang had a criminal past made Ang/Antonio all that stronger a suspect. “Have you checked to see if Antonio is in his office?”

  “Yeah. He wasn’t there. Or in his pad.”

  “What’s his home address?”

  His expression turned icy. “Seems to have slipped my mind. Sorry.” He started up his noisy engine and took off.

  Damn it! I hadn’t even learned the man’s name.

  Later that day, I skipped lunch and took a client to the Denver Design Center to look at area rugs and draperies. The spectacular silk items we’d selected would complete her master bedroom makeover in fabulous style. Sullivan called my cell phone just after I’d dropped her off at her home. “Our schedule’s gotten out of hand. Where are you right now?” he asked.

  “Northeast Crestview,” I replied. “I just finished with the Smiths for today and was about to head to the office to meet with the reps from that tile company.”

  “I’ll handle that solo. Can you swing over to Pate Hamlin’s instead, since you’re already in the general area?”

  That was an odd request. “I guess so. Why? What does Pate want?”

  “Dunno. Never talked to him. Rebecca arranged this. Said it’d just take ten minutes or so. I was supposed to be there five minutes ago, but I’m still clear across town. You’re fifteen minutes closer than I am.” />
  “Will do,” I said, grinning. Rebecca was going to be severely disappointed at having me show up in Sullivan’s place.

  The drive took me ten minutes, which meant I was fifteen minutes late for Sullivan’s ten-minute consult. I rang Pate’s doorbell, then turned to gaze across the street. From this vantage point I could fully appreciate how much better Michael’s house was looking. The police cordoning was gone. The roof had been replaced, and the damage from the bulldozer had been repaired. Maybe its feng shui curse had, at long last, lifted. Just in time for him to put the property on the market.

  The footfalls on the other side of the door sounded decidedly feminine—like stilettos. Rebecca Berringer answered. She had apparently spruced herself up for this appointment and was now dressed to the nines. Her face fell. The reaction made my smile all the wider.

  With obvious reluctance, Rebecca opened the glass outer door for me. “Hi, Erin. Rumor has it that you’re nearly done across the street.”

  “As rumors go, that’s not exactly A-list material, but yes, we’re making progress.”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. “So. Where’s Steve?”

  “He’s still downtown. He got hung up at a client’s house.”

  “He’s the one we wanted to talk to.”

  “And yet I’m the one who’s here.”

  “Well. This will be awkward, then. But quick. Could you please tell him that Pate is considering hiring him as my co-designer?” She grabbed the doorknob as though primed to shut the door in my face.

  “You can’t be serious, Rebecca.”

  “Oh, I am, Erin. Very serious.”

  “But Pate isn’t even keeping this house, is he? Isn’t he going to raze it for BaseMart or his condo development?”

  “Not for another couple of years. And he wants to live in luxury in the meantime.”

  “But…why would you suddenly need a partner? You can’t handle the work here?”

  She ratcheted up her already haughty expression by arching an eyebrow. “That’s called success, my dear.”

  It was all I could do to keep myself from slapping her silly.

  “You see, Erin, I was discussing with my client the fact that my show is such a huge success that I’m forever finding myself needing to be in two places at the same time. All the public appearances and so forth. Sharing my workload is the perfect solution, and Steve is virtually the only designer I could entrust my clients with.”

  She was wearing a lovely cream-colored linen suit. If only I had a cup of coffee that I could accidentally spill on her! “Too bad that he’s already got a business partner, Rebecca, so there’s no way he’d ever agree to such a thing.”

  She chuckled. “When the price is right, all sorts of complicated business strategies suddenly become feasible.” She glanced behind her shoulder into Pate’s home. “Such as, for example, ‘Sullivan and Gilbert’ becoming ‘Sullivan and Berringer.’”

  “Seriously? You think you can just buy me out?”

  “Not necessarily. More likely, I’ll just buy Sullivan away from you. That way you’ll get to revert to your little ‘Designs by Gilbert’ business.”

  “I wouldn’t be so cocky about that stupid notion if I were you, Rebecca. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than one client to make Steve and me dissolve our partnership!”

  “We’ll see about that, Erin. Just pass along the message, if you will? Thanks, dear.” She shut Pate’s door.

  Livid, I drove straight to the office. Sullivan was already there, wrapping up the meeting with the tile sales representative. He was gracious enough to recap some of the highlights of his presentation for me before leaving. I pretended to be fascinated.

  “How’d things go at Pate’s?” Sullivan asked me afterward.

  “He wasn’t there. Or if he was, Rebecca was playing bodyguard and never gave me access. She claims that she and Pate want to hire you to partner with her on finishing up his house.”

  He chuckled. “What’s the punch line here, Gilbert? She thinks we’re suddenly going to become Sullivan, Gilbert, and Berringer?”

  “No, just Sullivan and Berringer.”

  “Come on, Gilbert. Be serious.”

  I spread my arms. “Those are her words, not mine. She claims she’s such a red-hot commodity with her TV show and too-numerous-to-count clients she needs a helper, and that you’re the only one she trusts. Again, that’s a direct quote.”

  “Maybe she’s just messing with your head…trying to tick you off. No way would she actually believe I’d go for it.”

  “Which is what I told her. She, however, was confident you’d kowtow, once she threw enough money at you.”

  “Huh.” He rocked on his heels. “So how much money are we talking about here?”

  “Sullivan!” I swatted his arm.

  “Hey. I’m a designer slut. What can I say?” He grinned from ear to ear.

  Audrey was puttering around in the kitchen when I arrived that evening. She told me that she too had only recently gotten home—that everyone had been putting in extra hours at the TV station. We threw together a quick dinner: spinach salad, French bread, and pasta with some leftover chicken. Delicious! We joked about how wonderful it was that we were both “Domestic Goddesses.” Then we carried our glasses of Chardonnay into the parlor and chatted about silly things like the latest reality shows on TV. The doorbell rang, and Audrey went to the door.

  “Hello, Tracy,” Audrey said. “Would you like to come in?” I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was as surprised by a visit from Tracy Osgood as I was.

  “Just for a moment, if I may. Thank you.”

  Tracy entered, giving me a sheepish smile.

  “Hi, Tracy,” I said. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, thank you. I just came to tell y’all how very sorry I am about Shannon’s death.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was no way she’d come here in person just to offer her condolences for the loss of Audrey’s co-chair and my difficult client.

  “Frankly, I didn’t know Shannon all that well, but I certainly admired her and will miss her,” Audrey said. “Have a seat, Tracy.” She gestured at the Sheridan chair adjacent to her own favorite seat—a gold damask wing chair with a regal, thronelike appearance. “I assume you have other business with us.”

  Tracy perched on the seat and gave a tight-lipped nod. She seemed as edgy as a mouse who’d stumbled into a cat’s den. “Yes, I do. I also wanted to apologize to y’all for not being up-front about Pate being my ex-husband.”

  “Yes, you should have told us about that from the start.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I asked.

  “I was too embarrassed. Here y’all were trying to save the town’s integrity. Whereas I just wanted to force Pate to stick the store someplace else…so that our divorce settlement would be more lucrative for me.”

  “Which is why you didn’t appear on the scene till the city of Crestview had already voted to ban BaseMart within city limits,” Audrey surmised.

  “’Fraid so. I’m the typical NIMBY—not in my backyard.”

  “Where did Pate get the information for his No Big Boxes file?” I asked.

  She looked at me with shocked, wounded eyes, as though I’d slapped her. “I have no earthly idea, Erin. I don’t know what he had in that file, let alone how he got his information. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “But you obviously knew he had such a file.”

  “Yes. Because Pate called me when he first realized someone had broken into his desk. He thought I’d stolen it. But do you mean to tell me you think I was spying on y’all? That I was pretending to be against BaseMart, just to infiltrate your campaign?”

  I shrugged. “The documents from Pate’s office apparently turned up in Shannon’s file cabinet. And were doctored to make it look as though she’d been stealing from the organization.”

  “I swear to y’all, I had nothing to do with any of th
at. Those books were a bit…disorganized when I got them from Shannon, but all the money was there and properly accounted for. And I can’t imagine why anyone would go to the trouble of fiddling with the books.”

  Audrey explained: “To throw a monkey wrench into No Big Boxes, and to make it look like somebody believed that Shannon was stealing from the campaign coffers and therefore killed her.”

  “The only person I can imagine framing somebody for her murder like that is Pate himself. Erin, I know he’s been asking you out. And, believe you me, that man can charm the socks off a kitty cat. But he’s so competitive that he loses his head. He’d sell his mama’s house right out from under her to get ahead.”

  Was this an accurate assessment? Or merely a bitter divorcée talking?

  Perhaps sensing my skepticism, Tracy frowned and stood. “There’s one other thing. I only found out the other day that the carpenter that got killed was your brother?”

  “Yes. Taylor Duncan was my half brother.”

  “As my rotten luck would have it, that Saturday was the one other time this entire month that I’ve been over to see Pate. Right around lunchtime? And…I saw him leaving Shannon’s house.”

  I tensed. “Did you ask him about it?”

  “He claimed that he was over there to talk to her and her husband, but that nobody answered the door.”

  “That’s possible.”

  “Except I saw him shutting the door. And…wiping his fingerprints off the knob.”

  Audrey and I exchanged glances. That was probably when Pate had gone over to the house to swap out their building supplies, as he’d already admitted doing. But, even if so, why would he take the precaution of removing his fingerprints? “You suspect Pate killed Taylor?” I asked Tracy.

  “I hope I’m wrong. I really do.”

  “What did the police say when you told them?”