The Dead-End Job Mysteries Box Set 2

by Elaine Viets

  “Let’s go,” Phil said, buttoning his shirt. While they dressed, Helen told him about Lexie, the cat-show judge.

  “No calls from the catnapper,” Phil said, “and the time-zone differences in England are making it hard for me to track down the cat-show people. I’m supposed to get a call from the organizer about seven tonight. Let’s go enjoy this sunset salute.”

  Out by the pool, Margery looked fresh and relaxed in purple clam diggers and a pale lavender off-the-shoulder blouse. Her silvery gray hair had a springy swing.

  “Well, I see you two started celebrating early,” she said.

  Helen blushed and looked down at her shirt. “Everything’s buttoned,” Margery said and smiled wickedly. “You two have that glow.”

  “Where’s Peggy?” Helen asked, awkwardly changing the subject. “I know she’ll want to hear the good news.”

  “Daniel’s picking her up after work,” Margery said. “Wine?”

  They toasted Margery, the Coronado, even the contractor, and were starting on a second glass and another round of toasts when Margery’s friend Elsie toddled through the gate. Helen hadn’t seen Elsie for months. The Coronado’s honorary aunt seemed older than Margery, possibly because of Elsie’s slightly dotty manner.

  Elsie, who was pushing eighty—and it was pushing back hard—had a festive attitude toward fashion. Today’s outfit came straight from the pages of Seventeen. Helen was sure she’d seen that same style on a magazine model who looked like preppie Cher Horowitz in the old Valley Girl classic Clueless, except Elsie’s short, fluffy hair was Jell-O pink.

  Elsie’s plaid miniskirt, white blouse, navy blazer, and Mary Jane platforms looked creepy. School uniforms do not mix with cellulite and varicose veins, Helen thought.

  “Am I interrupting?” Elsie asked in her soft, quavery voice.

  “You’re always welcome, Elsie,” Margery said. “Interesting outfit.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” she said. “I promised my son I’d dress more conservatively.”

  “He can’t argue with a navy blazer,” Margery said. “Join us for wine?”

  “I was hoping I could invite you to dinner. My treat. I know it’s short notice, but I have reservations at Beachie’s.”

  “The restaurant on the water in Fort Lauderdale?” Phil said.

  “You and Helen will join us,” Elsie said. “Please?”

  “Love to,” Helen said.

  “I’m supposed to get a phone call shortly,” Phil said. “Can we meet you there?”

  “I have a table on the water,” Elsie said.

  Phil’s phone rang as Margery’s white Lincoln Town Car was backing out of the driveway.

  “Is this Mrs. Jinny Gender, director of the Coventry All Breed Cat Show?” Phil asked. “Oh, her secretary. How long will she be gone? I see. Did you attend the show? You like dogs. I see. Is there someone else I could speak to?” Silence. Then, “I understand. Volunteers do move on. Well, I’ll wait until she returns. Thank you for getting in touch with me.”

  Phil hung up. “Gotta wait till Monday for more information on the medallion,” he said. “Let’s go see Margery and Elsie.”

  “I’ll drive. It’s too hot in your un-air-conditioned Jeep,” Helen said. “Wonder why Elsie is inviting us all to dinner?”

  “It’s Wednesday? She got a check? Elsie never needs an excuse. But I sure could use a dozen Beachie’s oysters.”

  “Keep up your strength,” Helen said, and winked at him.

  “Any complaints about my prowess?” he said.

  “Absolutely none,” she said. “I want you to maintain the same high standard.”

  Beachie’s was an old fish shack that kept expanding. After thirty years, it was a jumble of additions, painted white, green, pink and turquoise, sprawled along the Intracoastal Waterway. The coveted seats were on the screened-in porch.

  Helen found a parking space. She and Phil sidestepped a colony of fat cats that hung around the fish-house Dumpster. At the entrance, they ran into a wall of sound and a line that wrapped around the building. Inside, the dark restaurant was lit by glowing beer signs.

  “I see our party out on the porch,” Phil said to the hostess. “The lady with the pink hair.”

  “Elsie,” said the hostess said. “She’s so cute. Here are your menus.”

  Helen and Phil threaded their way through the tables, dodging servers with loaded trays.

  Margery and Elsie were drinking wine at a table for five. “Helen, dear, sit by me,” Elsie said, “and Phil, you sit near your honey.” That left the chair next to Margery empty, but there was a glass of white wine on the place mat.

  Is someone else here? Helen wondered. Before she could ask, the server arrived. Her name tag read PEG.

  “Can I get you two drinks?” Peg asked. She was fiftysomething with straight brown hair, a little overweight and comfortable-looking.

  Phil ordered a beer and Helen wanted Chardonnay. “I’ll have another wine,” Margery said.

  “Ready to order?” Peg asked.

  “As soon as our other guest joins us,” Elsie said. “Why, here he is now. Hello, Zach.”

  Margery’s dramatic-looking ex approached the table with an expansive wave, like a B-list celebrity. “Hi, everyone. I’ll have another white wine, sweetheart,” he said to Peg, and sat down next to Margery. She froze, like a child playing statue. Her hand stayed wrapped around her wineglass. Her smile was painted on.

  Zach chugged his wine.

  “What the hell are you doing, Elsie?” Margery asked, through gritted teeth.

  Elsie began fluttering and flapping like a wounded bird. “Now, Margery, don’t get upset. You know we’ve been friends since we were girls. I was there when you first met Zach. You were crazy in love with him.”

  “That. Was. A. Long. Time. Ago,” Margery said.

  Elsie should have had frost on her pink hair, but she rushed on sweetly, recklessly, desperate to make her case. Margery looked ready to explode.

  “At least hear Zach out,” Elsie said. “For my sake. I know you still love him.”

  “You know nothing,” Margery said. “Nothing at all. About Zach or me or what happened.”

  “I know you were terribly disappointed,” Elsie said. “I think when Zach showed up at your home recently, you were taken by surprise. You were in shock. Now that the shock is over, you need to listen to him. He’s sorry, Margery. And he’s changed. Completely.”

  Zach had a smug grin, as if no woman could resist him. This time, Helen thought he wasn’t as handsome as he first appeared. Yes, his white hair was thick, but his eyes were slightly yellow, his nails were rough and coarse, and his skin was way too pale under his fake tan.

  “Zach change for the better? I doubt it,” Margery said, her voice dangerously low. “But I’ll listen. You’ve got two minutes.”

  “Margery, I did it all wrong when I came to our apartment house,” Zach said.

  “My apartment house,” she said.

  “I shouldn’t have surprised you,” he said. “I should have called you first, but I was afraid you wouldn’t speak to me.”

  “You got that right,” Margery said. She took out a cigarette, then seemed to realize she couldn’t smoke in the restaurant. She kept rolling it back and forth between her fingers.

  “I love you, Margery,” he said. “You’re the only woman for me.”

  She crushed the cigarette flat. “What about Daisy?” Margery asked. “The woman you’ve been living with for thirty years.”

  “She means nothing to me,” Zach said.

  She ripped the crushed cigarette in two. “You spent a long time with someone you didn’t care about,” Margery said.

  “Yes, I did,” Zach said. “That wasn’t fair to her or to you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about being fair to me,” Margery said. She stripped the paper off the cigarette and took the tobacco apart. “I got what I wanted—the apartments, the car and the divorce. I also thought I saw the last of your sorry
ass, but now you’re back like a senior stalker.”

  Margery was getting angrier as she talked. She crushed the torn-up cigarette in her hand. “We’re finished, Zach. I never want to see you again. Leave me alone.”

  Peg was back with the wine. “Here you go,” the server said, handing Helen and Phil their glasses. She set one at Zach’s place and gave the last one to Margery.

  “Anything else?” Peg asked.

  “Yes,” Zach said. “I want you to be my witness.”

  Peg stared while Zach slowly knelt in front of Margery on the sticky tile. Diners at nearby tables gaped. The noisy restaurant grew quiet. “Peg! Order’s up!” someone yelled in the kitchen.

  She stayed rooted while Zach said, “Margery, I love you. Come back to me. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

  “With any luck, that won’t be long. Get up, you grandstanding fool,” Margery said. She was shouting now, and the restaurant was ominously silent. “I don’t love you. I never have. Get out. Stay away.”

  “But,” Zach said.

  She picked up her wineglass and tossed the wine in Zach’s face.

  “And in case that didn’t convince you, remember this.” She dumped Zach’s wine on his head. “Now go away and leave me alone. Up! Out! Never let me see you again!”

  Peg, an unflappable veteran of the restaurant wars, rushed over and helped Zach to his feet. She wiped his face with a napkin. “Are you okay, sir?”

  “I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said. “I won’t be having dinner. I don’t feel so good. My stomach’s acting up.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Wednesday/Thursday

  Zach lurched through the silent restaurant, clutching his gut. Near the hostess stand, he stumbled and started to fall. A worried Peg, who’d been walking beside him, caught Zach and guided him out the door.

  Maybe he really is sick, Helen thought. He did look pale.

  After Zach left, the show was over. The restaurant resumed its noisy hum.

  Margery hissed at Elsie, “Thanks for the surprise party. I’m leaving. Find your own way home. You’re good at arranging things.”

  Elsie reached for her friend’s hand. “Margery, please forgive me,” she said. Tears streaked her face. Her cheerful cherry pink frizz had flattened into sad strings.

  Margery slapped away her hand like it was an annoying insect, then stomped out.

  “I didn’t mean it,” Elsie said, her face crumpling. Phil hugged her and let her cry on his shoulder.

  “If you could have seen Margery and Zach when they were young,” she said. “They were so in love, they had a . . . a radiance. I know Zach was wrong when he took up with Daisy. He knows it, too. When he called me, he sounded so contrite.”

  “He called you?” Helen said. That rat, dragging softhearted Elsie into his mess.

  “He came by my house and told me everything,” Elsie said. “I told him he shouldn’t have surprised Margery at the Coronado. The shock of seeing him after so many years was too much. He suggested meeting her at this restaurant. They used to come here when they were courting. I thought if Margery would listen to him, they’d get back together.”

  Poor Elsie, Helen thought. Along with her schoolgirl outfit, she had a girlish faith in true love. She didn’t understand Zach’s betrayal had burned away that incandescent love.

  Helen did. She still remembered the white-hot hate blasting through her when she’d caught her ex with another woman. That savage rage had consumed her love for Rob.

  Elsie sat up, sniffling, and Phil handed her his pocket handkerchief. “Such a gentleman,” she said, dabbing her damp eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Elsie, it’s over,” Helen said softly. “Zach and Margery are different people now. They can’t get back together. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Elsie said with great dignity. “I’d like to go home, please.”

  Helen left enough cash to cover their drinks, plus a generous tip.

  “Do you think Margery will forgive me?” Elsie said. “We’ve been friends since we were girls, almost seventy years.”

  “Give her time to cool down,” Helen said.

  Phil helped Elsie toward the door. She seemed sad and crushed. Her sagging bosom strained her white blouse, her short plaid skirt clashed with her varicose veins and her stylish Mary Janes showcased her bunions.

  Cruel snickers followed Elsie. Helen glared at the woman’s tormentors. Elsie’s friendship with Margery stretched back to when they both wore schoolgirl clothes without the sneery comments.

  Helen and Phil made sure Elsie was settled at home. “Poor Elsie,” Helen said, as they drove to the Coronado. “She meant well. What do we say when we see Margery?”

  “Let her set the tone,” Phil said. “She’ll discuss it when she’s ready. Margery’s had too many people trying to tell her what to do lately.”

  Back at the Coronado, the lights were on in Margery’s place. Helen and Phil hurried inside his apartment, grateful they didn’t run into their landlady.

  “How about if I defrost those shrimp and make scampi?” he asked.

  “Yum,” Helen said. “I’ll chop garlic and do the salad.”

  They worked together quickly and well and dinner was soon on the table. “What are you doing tomorrow, besides waiting for the kidnapper to call?” Helen asked, as she sampled her plate of garlicky, buttery shrimp. “This scampi is fabulous.”

  “I want to track down Amber, Mort’s other girlfriend.”

  “The pole-dancing actress? I wish I could see that one,” Helen said.

  “You could,” Phil said. “I can video it on my phone.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “I’ll have her consent,” Phil said. “I’ll tell her my partner loves Rock of Ages. You want to see one of the pole dancers from that awesome scene in the club.”

  “I do?” Helen said.

  “Yes. That’s why you insist that I record the interview. You’re such a fan.”

  “I’ll really be a fan if you get her to talk,” Helen said, stifling a yawn.

  He took her plate and kissed her cheek. “I’ll clean up. Go to bed.”

  The next thing Helen knew, Phil was shaking her awake. “Helen! Get up! It’s after seven!”

  “No! I’m fired if I’m late.” Helen sprang out of bed and threw on shorts, shirt and sandals. “Good thing I don’t have to be as well-groomed as the cats,” she said, as Phil gave her an energy bar and coffee and pushed her out the door.

  At Dee’s she raced into the cattery, slightly out of breath. Jan looked at the clock. “Relax. You have five minutes to spare,” she said. “Dee’s in a foul mood. Keep out of her way. It’s bath time for Mystery. I’ll supervise.”

  Helen picked up the sleepy smoky gray Persian and started to hold her against her chest. “No, she doesn’t like to be carried that way,” Jan said. “Stretch out your arm.”

  Helen held out her right arm and Mystery rode it, her chest in Helen’s hand, her legs dangling. “Show cats are trained to be carried that way,” Jan said. “The exhibitor can keep one hand free. Also, it doesn’t mess up their fur as much.”

  Helen walked gingerly to the grooming table. “She’s such a pretty shade of gray,” she said.

  “Blue,” Jan corrected. “Pedigreed cats are blue, not gray.”

  Helen stared at the fur, but it looked gray as a rainy day. “Do you have a cat at home?” she asked.

  “No,” Jan said. “After waiting on these babies, I don’t have time for one.” She scratched Mystery’s ears. “I get my feline fix at work. Don’t forget to lay out your tools. I’ll keep you in warm towels.”

  The sweet-faced Persian didn’t seem to mind Helen’s bumbling bathing. She stood patiently while Helen combed her long, thick coat. “Is Dee married?” Helen asked.

  “Sure,” Jan said. “To a real sweet guy, Justin Chatwood. He’s got the money. He’s in Brazil now. Justin travels a lot, which, I suspect, is the only way to stay married to D
ee.”

  She lowered her voice and turned on the water in the other sink. “Justin had an affair with Trish.”

  “Mort’s wife?” Helen asked.

  “I think someone at the country club told Dee. She was livid. I went looking for Midnight about a month ago and heard Dee screaming at Justin in the living room. She shouted that she was leaving for good. He begged her—I mean literally—to forgive him. Swore it would never happen again. Dee said she wanted to think about it, but she took him back.”

  “Did she really forgive Justin?” Helen said. “She doesn’t seem the forgiving type.”

  Jan shrugged. “Maybe she did. Maybe she took a long look at her bank account. She can’t keep these cats on the money she makes. But I don’t think she’ll ever forgive Trish, who’s younger and better-looking.”

  “What would Trish see in Justin?” Helen asked.

  “Oh, you’ve never met him,” Jan said, and smiled. “He’s older, but he’s sexy and suave, as my mother would say. Same social background as Trish. She likes money, and Mort had plenty of it, but Justin has more. Trish kind of looked down her nose at Mort. That hurt him. Eventually, he had enough and turned to me.” She smiled at the memory, then looked stricken. Mort was gone, along with their life together.

  “Do you think Dee framed Trish for Mort’s murder?” Helen asked.

  Jan paused for a long moment. “She’s devious enough. At first I thought Trish killed him. But now I remember how mad Dee was at her cheating husband.

  “After a day or so, they were all kissy-kissy, walking around here holding hands. But when he wasn’t around, she lashed out at everyone. She went through three assistants in three weeks. One afternoon, she ordered me into her office. I figured she was going to chew me out again. She did, but first she made me stand by her desk while she talked on the phone. She had the new issue of the South Florida Society Chronicle.”

  “The glossy mag that’s all society parties?” Helen asked.

  “That’s the one. It was open to a story about some charity ball, featuring Trish in a black diva dress. While she talked on the phone, Dee stabbed out Trish’s eyes.”

  “What do you mean?” Helen asked.