Tad looked both baffled and nervous. “Why do you want to talk to me? I don’t know anything.”
“I’m going to talk to a lot of people, mostly to see if anyone saw anything last night, or has any ideas or knowledge about Ginny or any of the people in her life. But I also have information I gleaned after being questioned by the police.”
“So it will be just you and me talking?” Tad asked.
Guilt raced through me, making my back prickle. “Duncan is going to assist me and stay the whole time as a witness and an impartial third party.”
Tad narrowed his eyes at me. “Do you think you need protection from me?” he asked.
“No, Tad. I promise you that Duncan is just along for the ride and to help keep me in perspective. There are some things the cops told me that I want to clear up. I’m sure it’s nothing but I need to do this for my own peace of mind.”
“Okay, fine.” He grabbed his drink from the bar and hopped off his stool.
I led the way into my office with Tad behind me and Duncan bringing up the rear. Once inside, I settled into my chair behind the desk and told Tad to take the chair across from me. He sat where I indicated while Duncan stood off to the side of us.
Tad leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared straight at me. “Okay, I’m here,” he said. “Ask what you want.”
“How well did you know Ginny?”
“I didn’t,” Tad said, and I winced. Tad’s voice often triggered a constant line of floating bubbles, as if someone had an automatic bubble gun they were firing. But when he answered my question about knowing Ginny, the bubbles began to pop and there were spaces in the line, as if the gun had faltered. My mind was picking up something different in Tad’s tone and I felt certain it was because he was lying.
Tad seemed to sense my hesitation and he quickly amended his answer. “I mean, I knew who she was because I saw her here a time or two and we might have exchanged some pleasantries, but other than that . . .” He shrugged and the bubbles became regular again, confirming my suspicion.
“That’s interesting,” I said. “Because the cops said they have a list of Ginny Rifkin’s clients and your name is on it. Why would that be?”
Tad shifted uncomfortably in his seat before he answered. “I’m sure she put the name of anyone she ever met on her list. That’s what business people do. It’s all about building up your customer base. You know how Ginny was always rooting around for new clients whenever she came into the bar. She gave a business card to everyone she met, and she used to leave them lying around all over the place here, even in the bathrooms.” As he said this, the bubbles stayed regular and orderly but I noticed their shapes were off slightly, not the perfect round orb they had been.
Duncan jumped in at this point. “I heard the cops say you had a real estate deal that didn’t go so well. Is that true?”
I saw Tad stiffen and he shot me a look of betrayal. “I bought a piece of property that didn’t turn out to be quite the investment I’d hoped it would be,” Tad said. “But I’d wager half this city is upside down on one mortgage or another right now with the real estate market being in the toilet like it is. What of it?”
“Did Ginny have anything to do with that deal?” I asked.
Tad’s muscles tensed.
“Yeah,” he snapped. “It was Ginny. She put me on to this commercial property over near Brewer’s Hill that I eventually bought. I’d mentioned to her once that I was looking for something that would make a good short-term investment. The property was a small dry cleaning shop in a run-down section of town bordering on one of those transitional neighborhoods where the yuppies start buying homes and fixing them up, you know? Ginny said the shop was a steal of a deal because the owner had died suddenly, leaving behind his wife, three kids, a stack of bills, and no life insurance. The wife wanted to sell fast, pack herself and the kids up, and head for Arizona to be near her parents. Plus Ginny had heard through some city council connection she had that there was a developer interested in buying up everything in that area for some upscale condo project he wanted to do. So it seemed like a good investment at the time.”
“What happened?” Duncan asked.
“What happened is I let my sympathy for the widow sway me into buying the property too fast and paying more than I should have. I knew she was desperate to sell and I probably could have knocked her down in the price, but I felt sorry for her. Besides, I checked out Ginny’s story about the developer and what she told me about the condo project was true and most of the other store owners had said they were willing to sell. So even though I overpaid a little, I still thought I’d not only be able to recoup my investment, but turn a healthy profit. There were two apartments upstairs and I figured the rent on those would help offset my costs.”
Tad paused and sighed heavily. “The first sign of trouble was when the city inspector contacted me because the EPA had targeted the shop for dumping PCE.”
“PCE?” I repeated.
“Yeah, it’s short for some big long chemical name . . . perchloro-something. Apparently it’s a big cancer causer and the previous owner was dumping the crap into the ground out behind the store. So the EPA told my tenants they had to leave and told me I could no longer rent the apartments. Then they locked the place down, sealed it up, did some tests, and condemned the entire building.
“I wasn’t overly worried at first, because I had planned all along to just sell it to the developer, who was going to tear everything down anyway. I figured he could do any remaining cleanup that might be needed. But then the residents in those bordering neighborhoods got wind of the condo project and started pressuring the other store owners not to sell, promising to support them with their patronage. It was a classic NIMBY campaign, and a well-organized one. They wanted to preserve that small-town neighborhood feel in their little section of the big city, and they weren’t keen on a big-assed condo going up where all their quaint neighborhood markets were. Their efforts worked. Enough of the store owners reneged on their promises to sell and the developer eventually dropped the project and moved on.”
“So do you still own the property?” Duncan asked.
“I do. It’s my albatross. I can’t sell it, I can’t rent it, and I can’t afford to tear it down or make it habitable because it has to be done by some special company in some special way because of the chemical contamination. Now I’m getting pressure from that damned neighborhood group as well as the other shop owners to do something with it.”
“Geez, Tad,” I said. “I knew you got stuck with a property deal that didn’t go well, but I had no idea how bad it was, or that Ginny was the one who sold it to you. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tad shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what your relationship with Ginny was and I didn’t want to bad-mouth her in front of you. Besides, you know I’m trying to keep the whole thing under wraps.”
I nodded and then looked over at Duncan to explain, even though I knew it wasn’t necessary. But I didn’t want Tad to get a hint of Duncan’s knowledge or involvement. “Todd’s wife is quite wealthy and a prominent figure in the area.”
Duncan looked puzzled and asked Tad, “Can’t she take care of this thing for you then?”
“Oh, sure,” Tad said irritably. “My wife could easily afford it, but I can’t. She holds the purse strings and, believe me, her grip is a strong one. Plus she doesn’t know anything about that property. I bought it on my own and leveraged my business pretty heavily to come up with the money for it.”
“Why?” Duncan asked.
Tad leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rubbed his forehead for a few seconds before he answered. “It was going to be my ticket out of there, my escape.”
“Your escape from what?” Duncan asked looking bemused.
“Not what, who,” Tad said, sighing miserably.
Duncan looked sympathetic and nodded, making me wonder what type of marital history he might have. I know cops tend to have high rates of divorce and I wondered i
f he fell into that category.
Duncan cocked his head to one side and smiled. “I’m sympathetic to your plight, but you do realize you’ve just admitted to a stellar motive for wanting to kill Ginny Rifkin, don’t you?”
Tad nodded, looking glum.
I felt sorry for him particularly since I knew what I had to do next. I showed him the picture of his broken eyeglasses. “Recognize these?” I asked.
Tad shrugged. “Of course. Those are my old glasses. I broke them last night . . . thank goodness. My wife picked those things out for me and I never liked them. They’re hideous.” He reached up and adjusted his new wire-framed glasses. “I got these this morning. They not only look better, they feel better. Those things weighed a ton,” he said, nodding toward the picture.
“How and when did you break them?” I asked.
“It was right before I left here last night. I’d had a bit more to drink than I meant to, and I was in the men’s room and took them off so I could splash some water on my face. I set them on the edge of the sink and somehow managed to knock them off. I didn’t even realize they were on the floor at first. The paper towels were off to one side and when I went to grab some, I stepped right on the damned things. I picked them up and saw how broken they were, so I tossed them in the trash. I’m pretty nearsighted without them so it made for an interesting walk home, I can tell you.”
I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until I let it out. Tad’s excuse was a reasonable one and judging from the look on Duncan’s face, he thought so, too.
Tad squirmed a little in the ensuing seconds of silence. “Why do you ask?” he said.
I tapped the picture of the broken glasses. “The police found these in the alley out back near Ginny Rifkin’s body.”
“Whoa,” Tad said, leaning back in his seat and holding his hands up as if to ward off some evil force. “I tossed them in the men’s room trash. Beyond that, I have no idea.”
I did have an idea, and since Tad’s voice bubbles were perfectly round and constant now, I was inclined to believe him. “We empty the rest room trash cans every night and all the contents go into the Dumpster next to where Ginny was found. So if you put your glasses in the men’s room trash, that’s where they would have ended up.”
Duncan shot me a slightly perturbed look and I wondered why. Was he annoyed that I was helping Tad?
I pushed out of my chair and stood. “Thanks for talking to me, Tad.” Hoping to do some damage control, I added, “And I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. Let me buy you a drink on the house to make up for it.”
He turned and gave me a wan smile. “You don’t need to apologize, Mack. I understand why you’re nervous about all of this. It has to have you on edge, particularly after what happened to your father.”
“Thanks for understanding. Can I ask you one more question?”
“Why not?” he said with a roll of his eyes.
“Did my dad ever talk about Al Capone that you know of? Or show any interest in him?”
Tad shot me a puzzled look. “Al Capone? Not that I can recall. What does that have to do with any of this?”
“Probably nothing. I’m just exploring a wild idea. Forget I asked. But I still want to buy you a drink. What would you like?”
“Let’s change things up a bit. I’d like to try something I’ve never had before. Got any suggestions?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. How about a Crazy Redhead?”
Chapter 11
“This is one drink I need to know how to make,” Duncan said with a laugh. “With a name like that and a bartender like you . . .” His gaze roved over my red hair.
“It’s pretty simple,” I told him. “Start with ice and add a shot each of Jägermeister and peach schnapps. Then fill the shaker the rest of the way with cranberry juice.” Having mixed all the ingredients, I capped the shaker and handed it to Duncan. “Now shake it up good because that’s the part that makes this redhead crazy.”
I watched, amused and admittedly a little transfixed as Duncan shook the drink, his arm muscles flexing beneath his tan. When he was done he poured it out for Tad and handed it to him. After a sip, Tad gave it a thumbs-up.
I moved down the bar to where Kevin was standing between two men. Kevin was rambling on about how he narrowly missed being the one to find Ginny’s body, but judging from the expressions on the men’s faces they either didn’t believe him or weren’t impressed. I suspect it was the latter.
I walked back to Duncan and whispered in his ear, “Join me in my office?”
I headed that way and Duncan joined me a minute later. “What’s up?” he asked.
“I was going to ask the male nurse, Lewis, to come talk to me next but it looks like he has left with his girls in tow. So how about I invite Kevin in to talk next?”
“Okay. Why did you ask Tad about Al Capone?”
“No reason. Just a wild-goose chase. What can you tell me about Kevin?”
“He was on Ginny’s list of clients and it appears their relationship didn’t end well.” He then told me what he knew, or at least as much of it as he felt comfortable sharing. I had a definite sense that he was holding things back.
When he was done I said, “Wait here,” and I went out to fetch Kevin. I pulled him to one side, and invited him into my office, explaining that I was determined to get to the bottom of things and was doing my own investigation.
Unlike Tad, Kevin didn’t hesitate. “I’m happy to help in any way I can,” he said, “though I don’t think I know anything that matters.”
Once we entered the office, I repeated the explanation I had given to Tad for Duncan’s presence and directed Kevin to have a seat in the same chair Tad had used. Duncan once again stood off to the side where he could see both of us.
“To start with, Kevin, I’d like to know what sort of relationship you had with Ginny,” I said once we were all settled into position.
Kevin shrugged. “I didn’t have a relationship with her so I don’t know what I can tell you. But I might have been the one to find her body this morning if my truck hadn’t broken down. Today was my day to pick up in that alley.”
“Wow, close call,” Duncan said in a relaxed, buddy tone.
“Yeah, right, huh?” Kevin said, sounding a bit impressed by it all.
“What garbage company do you work for?” Duncan asked.
Kevin offered up the name of the company.
“Where did your truck break down?” Duncan asked.
“Over on Wisconsin Street. I was doing my regular pickups when the engine coughed a couple of times and then started belching smoke like Old Faithful.”
“Old Faithful emits steam, not smoke,” I said, and both men turned and stared at me for several seconds like I was crazy. “Sorry.”
“What time did this happen?” Duncan asked, shifting his attention back to Kevin.
“It was around nine, nine-fifteen this morning. My route is pretty predictable most of the time and—”
“Why did you say you didn’t have a relationship with Ginny?” I asked, interrupting him.
Kevin turned back to me with a frown; Duncan flashed me a smile and an expression that might have been admiration. “’Cause I didn’t?” Kevin said with a shrug, his tone suggesting the question was moronic. Up until this last comment, Kevin’s voice had me tasting something cool and sweet, like whipped cream. Now the taste turned sour.
“The cops said your name is in her client database,” I said.
Kevin stared at me so long without blinking that I started to wonder if he’d died. Then he finally blinked and said, “Well, she did list my house for me some time back.”
“And you only now remembered that?” I said sounding highly skeptical.
“Well, yeah,” Kevin said with another shrug. “It was like two years ago.”
“Based on the notes the cops said they found in Ginny’s file, she never did sell your house, is that right?”
Kevin’s face clouded over.
“That’s right,” he said, tight-lipped.
“You lost the house in a foreclosure?” I pressed.
Kevin’s expression went from cloudy to thunderstorm as the muscles in his cheeks twitched violently. “Yeah, I did,” he said, his teeth tight. “Lost my job, then my house, and now my credit rating is in the toilet. If I hadn’t found this job driving the garbage truck, I’d probably be sleeping on a bench along the riverfront.” He seemed to realize how uptight he was and he paused, blew out a hard breath, shook his arms, and rolled his neck, trying to unwind.
“It must have pissed you off that you lost your house that way,” Duncan said, still using his good-buddy tone of voice.
“Yeah, I was a bit pissed, and I still am. But it wasn’t Ginny’s fault the house didn’t sell. I was upside down on my mortgage and couldn’t get the price I needed to break even since the market was so crappy. Ginny did everything she could to sell the place, so if you’re thinking I killed her over it, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Why did you lie to me when I asked you if you knew her?” I asked.
“I didn’t,” Kevin said angrily. “You asked me if I had a relationship with her and I didn’t. I didn’t really even know the woman. I used her in a professional capacity two years ago, and all that involved was the signing of some paperwork, a couple of phone conversations where we discussed selling ideas and strategies, and a dozen or so e-mails. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since.”
I was fairly certain the last part of Kevin’s statement was true since he first started coming into my bar a few months ago, a long time after Ginny stopped coming. As far as I knew, they hadn’t crossed paths in the bar, but I had no way of knowing what might have happened elsewhere.
“I’m sorry, Kevin,” I said, hoping to smooth his ruffled feathers. “It’s just that Ginny’s body was found dumped in some garbage that you were conveniently set to pick up, and would have picked up if your truck hadn’t broken down. It would have been a great way to eliminate the body. That seems like an awfully big coincidence.”
Murder on the Rocks Page 10