by Liz Turner
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Victoria headed to the kitchen, “I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight, and I have to be up by five to start baking the bread and prepping.”
“Hmm,” Randolf said.
“So I needed a partner for my insomnia, and your light just happened to be on.”
“So you accidentally wandered over to my house at 2:00 a.m., saw my light on, and decided to come talk?” He asked.
“Well… no.” Victoria said. “I did come to see you.”
“Why?” He asked, waiting with a smile.
“The CD.” She said. “At LeeLee’s house, she’d mentioned a CD was missing from her house. A CD she wanted to send to vogue.”
Randolf nodded, remembering vaguely. “What about it?”
“Did you ever find it?” Victoria asked.
Randolf scratched his chin. “I didn’t think to look for the original CD, to be honest. She said it was just a CD about the party being made, wasn’t it? I did get a copy from her videographer.”
“Can we watch it?” Victoria asked, excited.
Randolf got out his laptop and put the CD in. “Sure, though it’s a very unusual request to make this late at night.”
“I just thought… maybe there was something in the CD? Something the murderer didn’t want anyone else to see? That’s why it was missing.”
“Let’s have a look,” Randolf said. “I’m getting a little urge for a snack too. Want me to make popcorn?”
“How about a nice omelet and some tomato bread instead?” Victoria asked, opening his fridge and examining the contents. She brought out a tomato, sliced it in half, and poured salt and garlic powder on it.
“What’s that for?” Randolf asked, looking interested.
“Pan con Tomate.” She said. “Or tomato bread, if you want to be less fancy. I had it all the time when I went to Spain with Michael. It transforms boring old toast into pure delight.” Gripping the tomato with one hand, she grated it over the toast and then repeated on the other toast. Pulling the cutting board towards her, she chopped up some parsley, and sprinkled it on the toast, then cut them into thirds.
“That does look delicious,” Randolf said.
Efficiently, Victoria was now pouring the eggs into a saucepan and whisking them in it. “It’s a little unorthodox, but I hate using an extra container to whip the eggs when I can just do it in the pan.” She explained.
“Hey, I just eat em, they don’t have to be pretty,” Randolf said with a smile. He reached behind her and got out some glasses, and opened up a canister of orange juice. “Since we have an early breakfast, might as well break this out too.”
Working like this, side by side in his small kitchen felt like one of the most intimate things he’d ever done with a woman, Randolf thought. It felt natural and right. Like their place was right beside each other. The air was thick and warm, the entire atmosphere making his house feel like a home for the first time.
“That bread looks delicious.” He said. “I can’t wait for a bite.”
“Here.” She said instinctively. Cutting off a square, she popped a small piece into his mouth.
He swallowed it down and stood to smile at her, his hard features transformed into that of a tender, kind man. “Delicious.” He said, looking straight into her eyes. His voice was a whisper. Lost in the shades of blue that the rising sun brought out in his eyes, Victoria noticed in a faraway sort of way that there was a crumb sticking to his full lower lip.
Blinking, she kept herself from reaching out to touch it, and instead turned back to the laptop. “Looks like it’s booted up and ready to go.” She said, breaking the spell.
Randolf bought the laptop over to the table, and the two of them watched the CD from beginning to end. It seemed like a typical PR video with interviews from all the artists who were contributing. Victoria, to her surprise, was on it too and only now remembered giving the interview.
“Look at that you’re famous,” Randolf said. A little square under her head had “Victoria, Chef, and Caterer” printed on it, as Victoria was explaining her plans for the party.
Karen was interviewed next, and Steve.
But at the end of the video, neither Randolf nor Victoria could find a single thing that might make someone willing to murder LeeLee over it.
Chapter 14
They talked long into the night, with Randolf telling her as much as he could, without breaking procedure. They sat on opposing ends of the sofa, Randolf putting his feet up on a footstool, and Victoria curling her legs under her. Each of them sipping from a hot cup of tea.
“The case gets complicated.” Randolf said, “Because LeeLee was very careless about her security. As an artist, she was used to having people come in and out of her house. Plus, with the party having just gotten done and the workers still dismantling their installations, she had gotten even more careless. Declan said that the main door was open when he left in the afternoon at about 2 pm, although there were no workers then. LeeLee went to sleep around 2, and the main door was also open when he came back. So basically, they literally left the open invitation for the murderer.”
Randolf sighed. “I can’t even blame them. Very few people in town bother locking their doors during the day. Someone’s always coming about.”
“Did anyone see?”
Randolf shook his head. “Bad luck, no. No witnesses about who may have gone to LeeLee’s house that day. For now, we just have Declan’s word that the door was open.”
“Did Declan’s alibi hold up?” Victoria asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Randolf had said, smiling.
“I’m just curious, honestly. Did it?”
“Declan had friends who can testify that he was with them.” Randolf said, “But the thing is, he was ten minutes from home. By and large, the group is sure that he was with them, but he could easily have slipped out the back, driven home, killed LeeLee and come back to the bar without anyone noticing.”
“Do you think he did it?” Victoria asked.
“I don’t know,” Randolf said. “Declan is such a slimy guy that I instinctively dislike him. Still, he seems honest enough when he says he didn’t do it.”
“How about LeeLee’s will?” Victoria asked. “Declan mentioned something about a daughter…”
“LeeLee died intestate,” Randolf said. “Since she was an orphan herself, and as such since she left no will, the provincial government decides where her fortune goes. If Declan has lived with her under the same roof for at least a year, he’s defined as a common law spouse. He may get the remainder of her fortune and in fact, he probably will. He’ll have to jump through a lot of bureaucratic hoops though, before he does.”
“If LeeLee had died intestate and her daughter had shown up on the scene…”
“So you heard that theory?” Randolf smiled. “That the red-coat girl was LeeLee’s daughter?”
“I think I was there for the conception of that particular theory,” Victoria smiled.
“Well, we’ve taken DNA samples from both so we’ll know very soon if they were related,” Randolf said. “If they were, then we’ll have a stronger case to place on Declan. Right now, we don’t really have anything. We have to treat this as a burglary.”
“Was anything reported stolen?” Victoria asked.
Randolf frowned. “Well, you see, we’re having a little problem with that.”
“Why?”
“Declan told us nothing has been stolen when we first asked him. He won’t change that story even now.” Randolf smiled. “I suspect that Declan is selling bits and pieces of the house off, for now, to supplement his income before he gets the rest of LeeLee’s money.”
Victoria raised an eyebrow.
Randolf shrugged. “It’s not strictly illegal if he does.” He said. “After all, he was living in that house with LeeLee, and possession is nine,tenths of the law.”
“Will you be arresting him soon?” Victoria asked.
“I’ve alread
y told you too much,” Randolf said. “How about I ask you a few questions now?”
“Why would you?”
“Come on, Victoria, there’s one question you haven’t answered,” Randolf said. “Why are you so curious about this case?”
Victoria didn’t answer for a long time. “It’s because I don’t know the answer myself, really.” She said finally.
“You were a true crime writer with your late husband, weren’t you?” Randolf asked.
“Yes.” She said.
“Tell me about him,” Randolf said.
“There’s too much to tell.” She smiled. “There was my life before Michael, which is when I was a teen, and there is my life after Michael, which is now. The truth is I’ve never been by myself the way I am now. I’ve always had a man looking after me. I know, I know that I’m supposed to be a strong independent woman...”
“And you are,” Randolf said.
“And I am.” She agreed. “But I needed Michael. I always did. I think I have the kind of personality that gets addicted to things, and for years, I was addicted to Michael. He was moody, and wild, and so intelligent, and so charming. He always knew when I was down, and he always knew when to whisk me away on an adventure.” She had tears in her eyes, Victoria realized.
As if by magic, a handkerchief appeared in Randolf’s hand, which he passed over to her.
Victoria smiled at him. That was the kind of man Randolf was, quiet and capable. He gave you the feeling that if you laid any problem in front of him, he’d go efficiently and quickly to work solving it. He was the perfect cop, she thought, with a good combination of efficiency, integrity, and bravery.
“You make him sound like a hero,” Randolf said.
“He was my hero,” Victoria said. “My heart will always have a void in it, a Michael shaped place until I see him again.”
“Do you really think so?”
“He was… have you ever been in love like that, Randolf?” She asked.
“I had two wives,” Randolf said. “The first cheated on me; The second I married to take revenge on the first, a thing I will forever regret doing. Neither marriage worked out, but while I have my scars, I don’t believe I ever loved the way you did.”
“I’m sorry for it,” Victoria said. “Not to say…” she paused awkwardly.
“Say what you’re thinking, without worrying about hurting my feelings,” Randolf said. “Believe me, I have a very thick skin after working with criminals all the time.”
“Alright then. In a way, I feel very, very grateful that I had as much time as I did with Michael. There’s a golden glow about our years together. We produced Annie and Byron, who are the lights of my life now. When you’ve had the kind of romance I did with Michael, it’s selfish to ask for more, and it’s useless to expect anymore either. Maybe I just try to fill the Michael shaped void with… interesting things.”
“So instead of gardening, you took up murder-solving,” Randolf asked.
“When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous.” Victoria laughed.
Randolf stayed silent, watching her as he brought his mug to his lips. “Tell me more about Michael. How did you know you were in love? I mean, for me, there would be times when I was passionate about someone. I lusted after my first wife for years after we divorced. I suppose you could say I loved her, but that love seemed to evaporate somewhere along the way. I hardly even remember what she looked like now, to be honest. When did you know you were really in love with Michael?”
“I knew I loved him even before I met him,” Victoria said. “I’d read some of his books, and I fell in love with the man in the book jacket.”
“That’s a really dangerous thing to do,” Randolf commented. “You meet the person in real life, and nine times out of ten, things fizzle instead of sizzling.”
Victoria laughed. “Yes, well, in my case, when I met Michael, I sneaked into his hotel and asked for an autograph, and showed him a chapter of the book I’d written. He insulted my writing ability, and threw me out.”
“Wow.” Randolf whistled. “How did you end up married?”
“We solved a case together,” Victoria said.
“You did what now?” Randolf sat up straighter.
“Oh, I suppose this was around the time you were in college,” Victoria said. “But do you remember the multi-billionaire business tycoon Augustin Pelletier?”
“He was murdered at the Larch Luminary, wasn’t he? Nasty business. A poisoning.” Randolf nodded. “My CO told me about that case. He was one of the investigating officers.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you telling me that you solved that case?”
“Michael and I both did.” She said. “It was his idea to try and solve it. We discovered who did it in the end, and the murderer confessed to the police after we had a confrontation.”
Randolf whistled. “You have had a romance straight out of a movie. So is that how it happened? You solved the murder and kissed afterward?”
Victoria shook her head. “Hardly.” She said. “We solved the murder, and then I decided to never speak to Michael again. He somehow found a copy of my manuscript, the one I thought he’d thrown away, took the time to read it carefully, and then came over to meet me.”
“So he told you the book was fantastic this time around?” Randolf asked.
“No. He told me I had great potential, but I should probably get a career as a stenographer if I was going to write in such an adolescent manner. He also asked me to date him.” Victoria said. “I turned him down. I hated how blunt Michael was. But I loved it too. It was a challenge to me. I had to make him acknowledge I had talent so I kept sending him my work. Nine times he told me it was all crap. The tenth time, he flew down from New York to see me, and told me that I was finally catching up to all my potential.” She laughed. “He had a big bouquet of roses, and I was utterly charmed. We started dating soon. It was long-distance for a year. I didn’t even know if he felt as strongly about me, as I did about him. I tried to play it cool. He told me later that he had fallen in love with me, and was terrified I didn’t care.”
“What then?”
“Eventually, we couldn’t bear to be apart, and we decided to marry each other. I was only 21, and he was 25.” Victoria shrugged. “But what he said made sense. Why waste time when you know you’ve found the one?”
Randolf laughed. “When I was 25, I would have laughed at the very concept of The One.” He said. “All this soul mate stuff is beyond me. In my mind, if you’re attracted to someone, you like them as a person, and you are determined to be loyal, you’ve got a winning combination.”
Victoria shook her head. “How unromantic.” She said.
“It’s true, though.” He replied.
“You might as well marry anyone then.” She said. “Thousands of people would fit that description.”
Randolf shrugged. “Actually, it's surprisingly hard to find these three traits in one, single, interested person.”
“It makes me sad,” Victoria said. “To think that people approach love as something of a checklist. If he or she has these ten qualities, I’ll just marry them. That’s…wrong.”
“Well didn’t you have your own mental checklist with Michael?” Randolf asked. “If he’d been… I don’t know… scared, or didn’t have a sense of humor, or was three hundred pounds overweight, or…”
“I would still have loved him,” Victoria said, completely confident.
“I don’t think you would,” Randolf said. “Love’s all very well to speak of, but human beings are… predictable, after a fashion.”
Victoria shrugged. “To each his own, then.” She said. “I hope one day you find a woman that makes you understand what I’m talking about. That you'll find that lightning bolt of love that eliminates everything else.”
Randolf laughed. “I’ve had two loves that didn’t work.” He said, “Like you, I think I’m satisfied with work that I love instead.”
“You have to believe you’ll find it some
day,” Victoria said. “Don’t be such a pessimist.”
“I’ll believe if you believe.” Randolf shot back.
“It’s different for me, Randolf. I’m just not interested in men anymore. No one will ever compare to Michael, will they? For you, you have to find the woman who makes you feel as alive as Michael made me feel.”
Randolf looked at her, surprised. “Michael made you feel alive? So what do you feel now?”
“In limbo,” Victoria answered. “No, I feel… oh, Randolf. It’s been three years now since Michael passed. It’s not like I’m unhappy, you know, it’s just that the sounds are all a little bit softer, the colors are all a little bit duller. I suppose I’m slowly and quietly slipping into old age.”
“You’re young, and you’re beautiful still,” Randolf said. “Don’t drown yourself in the conviction that there will never be another man. There will never be another Michael, but love takes a thousand forms, I think. Sooner or later, you’ll meet some incarnation.”
“Incarnation?” Victoria looked startled. “That’s a funny word.”
“Is it?” Randolf smiled. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s just that it reminded me of something Steve said the other night at dinner. Something about people changing, and becoming new people at each stage of their lives.” Victoria frowned. “Now why did that pop up in my brain? There’s some connection I haven’t made.”
Randolf frowned too. “I don’t think I was there when this happened.”
“Well, since I remembered Steve, I also remembered Amanda, which leads me to the painting,” Victoria said. “There was a painting missing from LeeLee’s home, or at least Dr. Molly Stewart thought so.”
“Oh?” Randolf looked suddenly very alert. “A painting worth a lot of money, perhaps?”
“I need to talk to Amanda about how much it was worth.” Victoria said, “And perhaps the police could enquire too.”
“I think we most definitely will.” He said.
Chapter 15
Victoria must have fallen asleep on the couch while talking to Randolf. When she woke with a start it was 5:30 a.m, and she had a blanket wrapped around her.