I heard a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “When are you going to get a new cell phone?” she asked. “I was worried sick when I couldn’t get you all night at home. I finally called your uncle and he told me you were staying at his house.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve just been too busy to worry about getting a new phone. But I will. I promise.” I rinsed off the head of lettuce, then placed it on the cutting board. “I can’t wait to hear about your vacation,” I said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction.
She didn’t take the bait. “Denise,” she said, her voice questioning, “you would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
I chopped the lettuce, then placed it in a large bowl. “Mom, you worry too much. Nothing is wrong.” I decided it might be a good time to bring up Uncle Bob’s agency. Picking up a large tomato, I began dicing it, then asked cautiously, “Mom, is there any particular reason you and Dad didn’t want me working with Uncle Bob?”
A long pause ensued. For a moment, I thought the connection had ended. “We only want what’s best for you, Denise,” she said softly. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “You’ve probably already figured this out, but your uncle isn’t a very good detective. Over the years, his agency has dwindled to almost nothing. I don’t think he can hold out much longer.”
I had figured that out. But it would have been nice to know that it wasn’t my choice of professions that they objected to all these years, but my choice of partners. But I also had plans to help Uncle Bob change his string of bad luck.
“You have figured that out, haven’t you?” she asked, when I didn’t respond right away.
I finished chopping an onion, placed plastic wrap on the bowl, then placed the salad in the refrigerator. Maybe Uncle Bob just needs a boost to get him back in the game, I thought. But I didn’t say that to my mom. She’d want to know what kind of boost I was referring to, and I couldn’t tell her that. At least not now.
Instead, I answered, “He seems to be having some setbacks. But who isn’t these days?” I refused to give up on him. He was still my only uncle, the man I had admired for years. So he wasn’t the great detective I’d always thought him to be. I knew we still had a future together as partners in crime.
“Okay, Denise,” Mom said softly. “At least now you know why we tried to steer you away from becoming involved with his agency. In the end, it’s always been your decision.”
I smiled and reached for a large pan beneath the counter. “Thanks, Mom,” I said. Opening a can of tomato juice, I asked, “Are you ready to come home?”
“We’ll be home in three days,” she answered. “We’re having a great time here, but I can’t wait to get home to our normal lives again.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Things were far from normal at home right now. But with any luck at all, that was about to change very soon.
“I’ll see you then,” I said, steering the conversation to an end. “Have a safe trip home.”
I made quick work of the spaghetti sauce, then placed it on the stove to simmer. After cleaning the mess I’d made of the kitchen, I decided to see what else could be done to help out Uncle Bob. During high school, I used to come over and clean for him. From the looks of the place, no one had taken over that duty since that time. I ran my finger across the television screen and grimaced. A film of black dust covered my fingertip.
I located an unopened bottle of window cleaner along with a small can of furniture polish under the kitchen sink, grabbed a paper towel, and returned to the living room. I cleaned the television, the coffee tables, and the mini-blinds, and was just wrapping the electrical cord around the vacuum, when the shrill ring of the doorbell made me jump.
I opened the front door to find Justin standing there.
He stepped through the door. “I didn’t see your uncle’s car in the driveway, so I figured it was okay to stop by,” he said. “How did your lunch with him go anyway? Is he going to help us?”
I closed the door and escorted him into the kitchen. “Yes, and he doesn’t even know it.” I motioned for him to sit down, poured two glasses of iced tea, and set a plate of packaged cookies on the table, before sitting in the chair opposite him.
Justin sipped his tea. “That’s great, because I’ve got some interesting news.”
“You found someone to talk about Michael Black?” I asked hopefully.
He nodded. “Remember the old lady we saw knitting in her yard the day we went to Michael Black’s house together?”
I scrunched my eyebrows, trying to visualize that day. “You mean Alley the Snoop?”
“That’s the one. She was sure willing to talk today. And Mr. Black was the only person she wanted to talk about.” He reached for a cookie and bit into it. “Care to guess what Michael Black’s wife died of?”
“Cyanide poisoning,” I said softly, knowing I was right.
“Accidental cyanide poisoning,” he corrected me. “Or at least that’s what the papers said. It seems she got hold of a bottle of aspirin containing the poison.”
I put my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “How could that happen?”
“That’s what I wanted to know,” Justin said. “According to Alley, almost thirty years ago, people were being poisoned from over-the-counter medications. Apparently, it’s been a popular method of murder since then. It’s actually happened several times in the past years. Someone taints several bottles with the poison, places them back on the store shelf, and waits for people to purchase it. That’s how Mrs. Black died, along with five other people.”
“Seems like I remember hearing about that somewhere,” I said. “Do they know who did it?”
“Hard to prove,” he said. “But it might be nice to know if Michael Black was ever a suspect in his wife’s death.”
The smell of spaghetti sauce permeated the air, and I went to the stove to stir the bubbling mixture. “How convenient for Michael Black,” I said, sampling my concoction from a wooden spoon. “I guess with five people dying from the tainted aspirin, it would have been easy for him to murder his wife and blame it on the cyanide killer.”
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Justin said. “Only this time we won’t let him get away with it. This time he had a witness.”
My face must have shown my concern.
“Don’t worry, Denise,” he said. He rose from the chair and came to stand beside me at the stove. “Michael Black won’t have another shot at you. We’re gonna catch him this time.” He put his arms around my shoulders.
I leaned back and snuggled deeper into his embrace, enjoying the musky scent of his cologne, mingled with the aroma of garlic and oregano. For a moment, I could almost make myself believe the comfort his words offered. But a strange feeling kept gnawing at me. I couldn’t put my finger on it. We were missing something. Something important.
Justin nuzzled my neck then spun me around and kissed me. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Denise,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m not going to lose you.”
He kissed me again, and held me at arm’s length. “There’s more I should tell you.” He led me back to the table and set me down. “According to Alley, she wasn’t surprised to find the police at Michael Black’s house the other morning. She said she’s heard arguing coming from inside for about a month now. Very loud arguing.”
“Did she know what the arguing was about?” I asked.
“No, but she did say that sometimes the arguing was between two men, and other times it was between a man and a woman.”
My head shot up. “Maybe Angelica was seeing someone else.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Could be. The only problem is, Alley also claims that she saw Michael Black drive his red Toyota away the night before you found Angelica’s body.”
I sighed and traced an imaginary figure on the table. Without looking up, I said, “You know, I’m beginning to wonder if Mr. Black’s neighbors were supposed to think he was leaving
town.”
“You may be right,” Justin agreed. “It did provide him with the perfect alibi.”
“Except for the car.”
“What do you mean?”
I looked up and leaned my elbows on the table. “Remember when we walked over there that day? The red Toyota was missing, and it had been there earlier.”
“So?”
“Well, obviously whoever killed Angelica used that car to remove the body, and that’s why it wasn’t there when we went by later on.”
Justin shook his head. “Am I missing something? What does that have to do with Mr. Black’s alibi?”
I leaned closer. “If Mr. Black did drive off to make it look like he was leaving, why would he drive his own car back to commit a murder? It would have been smarter to take a taxi.”
Justin wiped the sweat from his glass of tea with his finger. “Yeah, that was pretty stupid of him.”
My mind was beginning to spin, and I had to shake away the dizzying sensation. “None of this makes any sense,” I said, massaging my throbbing temples with my fingertips.
Justin got up and paced the room. Suddenly, he stopped and threw his hands in the air, before pulling the chair out and straddling it. “Let’s start back at the beginning,” he said. “What happened when you first saw Michael Black come into the restaurant that night?”
My mind went back to that night. The diner was virtually empty until Michael Black entered. Then Mr. Winslow asked me to take his order.
“He was the only customer in the diner until you came in later,” I said. “I remember he ordered pie and coffee, and he was extremely agitated, like he had something on his mind. I didn’t see him leave, but I did think it was strange that he didn’t eat or even drink the coffee.”
“Okay, so we know he had something on his mind when he came in. What did you do after he left?”
I shrugged. “I cleaned off the table, and that’s when I noticed the wallet on the floor. Mr. Winslow suggested I call and tell him he’d left the wallet behind.”
Justin put his hand up. “Wait a minute. Does Michael Black come into the restaurant often?”
“Yeah. I’ve seen him there a few times. Why?”
“So when he came into the diner, he sat at your table. Did he know it was your table? Maybe he picked you for a reason?”
“It didn’t matter where he sat,” I answered. “I was the only waitress on duty at that time.”
Justin looked disappointed. “Okay, so then what happened?”
“I tried to call his home number, but there was no answer. That’s when Mr. Winslow suggested I drop it off.”
“And that’s when you discovered the body.” Justin said the words slowly his eyebrows drawn tightly, as if he were trying to make sense of what I said. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Why did he come into the diner at all, if he didn’t plan to eat? Then he leaves his wallet behind, so you’ll return it?” Justin looked up, his expression one of confusion. “I know this sounds ridiculous, but it almost seems like he set you up to find the body.”
“That’s just what I was thinking,” I said. “But why would he do that? If I had gone to the police with this information, he probably would have been arrested for murder. Especially, once they found out his first wife died of the same kind of poisoning. Besides, if he wanted me to find the body, why did he move it right after I left?”
The clock on the living room wall chimed five times, alerting us of the late hour.
I sprang from the chair. “Justin, you’ve got to get out of here. Uncle Bob will be home any minute now. I don’t want him to know we’ve already started an investigation.”
“Can’t we just not tell him?” he asked with a crooked smile.
My face softened. I was anxious for Justin and Uncle Bob to meet again. I wanted my two favorite men to get to know each other. But not now. For one thing, I couldn’t take the chance that Justin would let what we’re up to slip to Uncle Bob. Secondly, I didn’t want Justin to find out that the uncle I had bragged about for so long wasn’t as successful as I’d let on.
“Another time, okay?” I said.
Justin gulped the rest of his tea, grabbed another cookie, then stood up. “Okay, okay. I’m out of here,” he said.
I followed him into the living room, our hands entwined.
He paused in the doorway, his blue eyes swimming with warmth. “Maybe you and your uncle can come up with something tonight that will help us put two and two together, because we’re obviously missing something.”
I blew air through my lips. “I just hope he doesn’t get suspicious,” I said. “So far he just thinks we’re doing this for fun. And right now that’s good enough.”
Justin held open the screen door with his elbow, then leaned forward to place a kiss on my lips. “For now,” he said. He stood back and cupped my chin with his hand. “But I think we should consider letting him know what we’re really up to soon. Especially if anything else out of the ordinary happens.”
I tried to smile. “You mean like almost being silenced by a red Toyota?”
He didn’t laugh. “Just think about it, Denise. This isn’t a game. One person is already dead. And whoever killed her may be after you. I don’t want to lose you again.”
“I’ll tell him when the time is right,” I told him. It was all I could promise for now. Before I told Uncle Bob the truth, I needed to find out how much help he’d actually be.
Justin nodded, but the worried lines in his forehead indicated doubt.
“I have to go by the school tomorrow and get a few things done before the year begins. But I’ll come by the diner when your shift is over. If I hear anything else I’ll let you know. The answer is out there somewhere, and we’ll figure it out eventually.”
I’d just finished setting plates, salad bowls, and silverware on the kitchen table, when Uncle Bob’s Volkswagen rattled into the driveway fifteen minutes later.
“Boy, something sure smells good,” he said when he walked through the front door. He tossed his worn briefcase onto the couch and loosened his wrinkled tie. “A person could get used to this kind of royal treatment.”
“It’s all ready,” I said with pride. “I hope you like spaghetti.”
Uncle Bob waited until I sat down before taking the seat across from me. “I love spaghetti. Especially when it doesn’t come from a can.”
I dished some out onto my plate, then handed Uncle Bob the spoon. I waited until he’d served himself a hefty helping of spaghetti and salad, then decided that now might be a good time to bring up the subject of Angelica Belmont. “Did you have a chance to do any research on the case I mentioned to you at lunch?” I didn’t want to use Angelica’s name too much since I was afraid it might arouse his suspicion.
Uncle Bob twirled a huge helping of spaghetti around his fork, then put it into his mouth. “Didn’t get a chance,” he said, wiping his chin with his sleeve.
After seeing his office and his lack of clients today, I wondered what could have been so pressing that he couldn’t be bothered with making a few simple phone calls. But I held my tongue. I still wanted to help my uncle with his business. And I still needed his help with the Angelica Belmont murder whether he knew about it or not. Maybe if we could just solve this one mystery, it might give his ego, not to mention his career, a much needed boost.
Uncle Bob kept a small portable television on the kitchen counter. “I hope you don’t mind,” I said, as I reached over and flipped it on. Hopefully there would be more about the death on the evening news.
“Of course not,” he said. “I always watch television while I eat.” He tossed me a wink. “Of course, I don’t usually have such charming company.”
I smiled at the compliment, hoping he wasn’t hinting for me to turn it off and just visit. I needed to know what was being done to find Angelica’s killer. It could mean a matter of life or death for me.
The newscast was helpful. Angelica’s place of employment, the Starsky Insurance Company, w
as named in the broadcast. The police were questioning a suspect, but they didn’t release the name. I was sure it had to be Michael Black.
Uncle Bob was reaching for a second helping of spaghetti when I made a suggestion. “Don’t you think we should talk with some employees at the Starsky Insurance Company?” I asked. “Some of Angelica’s co-workers could probably tell us if she was seeing someone or not.” I already knew who she was seeing, but I wanted Uncle Bob to make the connection on his own.
His reaction actually surprised me. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find out where she lived. We could also interview some of her neighbors.” He reached for his glass of tea. “I can do that tomorrow.”
My hopes suddenly plummeted. “But I have to work tomorrow,” I complained. I started to say something else, when I suddenly remembered the wallet I’d left with Heather. If Michael Black’s wallet was still at the diner, there might be some useful information inside. I hadn’t bothered to look before, but then I hadn’t expected to walk in on a murder.
“Let me drive you to work tomorrow,” Uncle Bob said. “Once I drop you off, I’ll go by and check out the Starsky Insurance Company.” He narrowed his eyes. “Let’s don’t forget that I’m the one who’s supposed to be doing most of the legwork anyway. I’ll be in enough trouble when your parents find out about this.” He twirled another strand of spaghetti around his fork. “Besides, the place would be closed by now.”
He was right, I realized. Most businesses closed around five o’clock and it was almost six now. But time was running out and every second counted. I decided that if Uncle Bob hadn’t checked out the Starsky Insurance Company by the time he picked me up tomorrow, I would just have to find a way to do it myself. Besides, with him driving me to work, it meant that there was a good chance he’d arrive around the same time as Justin. Tomorrow just might be a good time for the two of them to bump into each other.
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