by Leslie Caine
“You and your sister remained friends with Teddy? Even after he got convicted?” Sullivan asked.
“Oh, no. Not at all. For all the years that George was still alive, Teddy stayed far away. Even so, he let it be widely known that he was innocent and that George had set him up. Then, at George’s funeral, he reintroduced himself to Lois. He’d lost his own wife about nine months before, and he and Lois eventually started dating.”
I couldn’t completely suppress a grimace. “And now you two are dating?”
“No, no. I’m not an idiot, Erin, despite what my niece might think.”
“I doubt she—”
Helen cut off my protests with a wave of her hand. She continued, “Though there’s no proof, I’ve suspected Teddy all along in Lois’s murder. And now in Jack’s, too. I’m merely minding the old adage: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. If Teddy killed George, I can at least understand his thirst for revenge, though I could never condone such a thing. But if he thinks I’ll let him get away with my sister’s murder...and then wait around like a duck in a pickle barrel for him to come after me, he’s badly mistaken.”
“Yet you accept a box of candy from him?”
“You didn’t see me eating any of them, did you?”
“No, but you offered them to me!” I shot back.
“I was just being polite. I never would have let you actually accept my offer. Honestly, Erin. Someone’s having tampered with my casserole and poisoning Lois wasn’t enough to scare you off of eating food that’s been given to me?”
“But...you invited me and Kay to have lunch with you just today!”
“I was going to make a fresh salad, and maybe open a can of soup. It’s pretty hard to sabotage that...for those of us without deathly allergies, at least.”
“Getting back to the missing newspapers and scrapbook...” Sullivan was leaning forward as far as he dared in the rocker. “Do you think this has something to do with Jack’s death?”
“Of course! It’s not a coincidence that someone who knew about the whole sorry saga of George would want me dead. Certainly he or she wouldn’t want the police to find my personal records that can spell out the motive in black and white.”
“Which is?” I prompted, baffled.
“Well, my goodness, Erin. If I knew that, I’d know who killed my sister, now wouldn’t I?”
I grimaced at her twisted logic, but decided not to argue. “What did your sister believe was her husband’s role in this shoplifting scam?”
“We never talked about it. She asked me never to bring it up. But I’m certain that’s because she knew he was guilty.”
“We should really get to work,” Sullivan said staring through the den’s French doors. “Helen, we have got to be able to haul your excess things out of your den. Or there’s no way we’ll be able to sort through the stacks of papers. You can’t even move in that room.”
“But I don’t want you taking things away from me that I might need someday!”
“Better that than to be unable to access the things that you need today,” I said.
“We need to clear enough floor space in the kitchen again to let us carry things out through the garage,” Sullivan said, striding toward the entranceway. “That’ll make it a lot easier to load things into the truck.”
I joined him and studied the kitchen, saying, “At least it’s not as bad as it was. You can still see—” Then I gasped.
“Erin? What’s the matter?” Helen asked. She followed my gaze and spotted the dead mouse curled on the kitchen counter. “Oh, dear. The poor little fellow. I hope this wasn’t Ella or Vator’s handiwork. But...they’d never leave such a thing there.”
“No, I don’t...” I let my voice fade. The candy box from Teddy was on the counter near the little cadaver. A raggedly shaped hole had been nibbled through one corner.
Chapter 15
The next morning, Linda called me at my office and verified what we already suspected. The chocolates had been laced with arsenic. It wasn’t enough to have killed a human being, but Linda agreed with me when I suggested that the killer might not have realized that.
“So, that proves it,” I said. “Somebody is trying to kill Helen.”
“Did she ever offer you some of her candy?”
“When Teddy Frederickson first gave it to her, she suggested that I take the whole box. Why?”
“She might have poisoned it herself.”
“Jeez, Linda. Talk about looking on the dark side! So now you think my client is trying to kill me?”
“No. But maybe she’s trying to make it look like someone was trying to kill her.”
“Why? To keep everyone entertained?”
“To give her a plausible theory on how her neighbor wound up dead in her basement.”
“Helen did not kill Jack, Linda. His wife swears he went over there to investigate a prowler.”
“Granted. It’s unlikely that Helen’s guilty. But not impossible.”
Exasperated, I thanked her for calling then got back to work on my bookkeeping, never one of my favorite tasks. I was blessedly close to being finished, when Peter interrupted me with an unexpected visit. His hangdog bearing and his large, slightly pudgy frame made me think of an overgrown teddy bear. He was wearing the same gray slacks as he’d worn on every previous occasion when we’d met. I was surprised to see him and greeted him warmly, but he merely gave me a wan smile in return.
“How’s everything going at my aunt’s house, Erin?” His eyes were averted, making it obvious that he really didn’t care one iota what my answer was.
“Fine, thanks. Have a seat.”
He sat down in my plush stuffed chair but remained tense, obviously ready to rise at a moment’s notice and bolt from the room.
“What brings you here?” I asked when he said nothing.
“Stephanie told me that you and your assistant were working on her house, too.” He paused. I repressed grin at Sullivan’s being termed “my assistant” and waited for him to continue. He cleared his throat and fidgeted with a cuff of his white Oxford shirt. “I’m not comfortable with that.”
“With my working at Stephanie’s? Why ever not?”
“It’s not fair to me. Stephanie wants to win Aunt Helen over and convince her to cut me out of the will. She’s only remodeling right now so she can give herself more excuses to see our aunt. This way she can drop by anytime while you’re at Aunt Helen’s house and pretend she needs to consult with you. Now she gets to be there all the time, and I never am.”
How ridiculously juvenile. Not to mention nonsensical; the man could go to his aunt’s house whenever he wanted. Apparently the sibling rivalry between Peter and his sister was still going strong, even now that their parents were in their graves, and they themselves were old enough to have grandchildren. Half jokingly, I suggested, “You can always counter that by hiring Steve Sullivan and me to work on your place.”
He made a derisive noise. “My finances fell into the crapper a couple years back. Had to move into a condo. It’d be like hiring you people to design the interior of a doghouse.” He crossed and then uncrossed his long, stocky legs.
“Your law practice isn’t going well?”
He shook his head. “Seems like half of Crestview’s population is made up of lawyers or therapists. I have my own practice...which hasn’t been practicing much of anything lately.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But I already started the job at your sister’s place, Peter, and it really doesn’t affect the work that I’m doing for you at your aunt’s home.”
“All I’m asking is for you to keep in mind that Stephanie and I have equal say-so in decisions. Don’t let her tell you what to do with Helen’s things. Many of them are rightfully mine.” Now he was fidgeting with his collar and wouldn’t meet my eyes. Did he realize how whiny and petty he sounded? “Um, we both inherited my mother’s personal effects when she died, but we all agreed that things were just too...messy at Aunt Helen’s
house to sort through them yet.”
“So you two actually hired me to help you divvy up your personal inheritance?”
“Well...that was part of it. Mostly it was just to help Aunt Helen.”
It would have been nice if he’d explained this to me up front. I waited a beat to make certain my annoyance wasn’t reflected in my tone. “I’ll be mindful of your concerns, Peter.”
“Thank you.” He gave me a crooked smile. “And, by the way, even though I’m practically broke, you don’t need to worry about my reneging on my half of your fees. Stephanie would have my hide. Now I’d better go chase some ambulances.” He rose.
“Thanks for stopping by.”
“When are you going to be working at my aunt’s house again?”
“Nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by then...and lend a hand.”
“Fine. That would be terrific. And perhaps I’ll see you at the service later today.” When he looked puzzled, I explained, “Jack Schwartz’s funeral service.”
“Oh, of course.” He looked at his watch. “I...forgot that was today.”
I’d probably just embarrassed him into attending the funeral of the man who’d died in his aunt’s house. We exchanged goodbyes, and he shuffled down the stairs.
Although Audrey had never met Jack Schwartz, in a show of solidarity for Helen Walker, she insisted on coming with me to his funeral service. We wound up dressing in similar navy-blue skirt suits, but I lacked the motivation to change outfits. We took her Mercedes, and I settled back into her comfy leather passenger seat. En route, she asked me if the police had any leads. I told her that, last I’d heard, they were still considering Jack’s death an accident.
“In that case, it’s a good thing Helen has you to do the Crestview P.D.’s job for them. So: Who are your prime suspects?”
Although the names Rachel Schwartz, Teddy Frederickson, and Peter Miller (now that I knew how desperate for money he was) instantly popped into my head, I answered, “Linda made it clear to me that they’d reopen the case if any new clues emerge. So I’ve promised myself that I’ll merely pass along whatever information I stumble across to her.”
She snorted and muttered, “Good luck with that.”
I studied her face in profile, but her expression was inscrutable. “What do you mean?”
“You’re a helpful, take-charge person with a big heart, Erin. And you’re naturally driven by that conscience of yours. One way or another, you and I both know you’re going to put yourself front and center in the search for the killer. You might as well make up business cards that list you as a full-time designer, part-time detective.”
“We’ll see about that. Maybe the police will make an arrest soon, and I can get back to designing interiors exclusively.”
We arrived at the funeral home, and Audrey pulled into a space at break-neck speed. She shut off the engine, then reached over and patted my knee. “It’s always best to keep one’s hopes up, dear. But, in the meantime, who do you think did it?”
“I don’t know, Audrey,” I said a bit irritably. I got out of the car, hoping that would be the end of our inane discussion.
Audrey, however, wouldn’t drop it. “Keep me posted,” she insisted, as we started down the sidewalk. “Helen’s my friend. And I intend to help you catch this monster in any way that I can.”
I nodded at an elderly couple in front of us who had overheard Audrey’s odd pronouncement and had turned to stare. I whispered, “That’s a generous offer, Audrey, but, like I said, I’m strictly a designer, not a detective.”
“Whatever. Just keep me in the loop.”
There was no sense in continuing to press my point. We entered the small chapel, made our way down the center aisle, and slid into a blond-ash pew. The room was at least two-thirds full. Peter nodded a greeting to me from the far side of the room. Why wasn’t he capitalizing on this chance to play for his aunt’s attention? Stephanie didn’t seem to be here, and Helen sat two rows ahead of us. Judging by the body language, she didn’t know the persons seated to either side of her.
I couldn’t help but wonder about the rumored affair between Helen and Jack. Was she mourning the loss of a lover right now?
“Hey, Gilbert,” Steve said as he sat next to me.
“Hi,” I said. “I didn’t realize you were going to be here.”
He was already smiling at Audrey and didn’t reply. The two exchanged warm hellos, then he returned his attention to me. Quietly he said, “Seems like we’ve been to far too many of these sad gatherings, doesn’t it?”
“Definitely.” In the corner of my eye, I spotted Rachel coming down the aisle. I held my breath, praying the grieving widow wouldn’t pitch a fit at Helen’s presence. As she passed our aisle and glanced in Helen’s direction, her step faltered. I braced myself for screaming. But although she started weeping audibly into her lace handkerchief, Rachel took her seat without incident.
The service was lengthy and depressing. Many of Jack’s friends and former coworkers went to the microphone to talk about how much they’d miss him. He’d come from a large family in Nebraska, and afterwards most of them stood in a long line by the entrance, with Rachel at the end of the line. Peter all but sprinted up to Helen to give her a hug. After speaking with her quietly, he ducked out a side door. Truth be told, I’d have preferred to sneak out too. Wasn’t every single one of us saying how sorry we were for their loss? In my and Sullivan’s cases, the truth was we’d met Jack only once, and that was hardly appropriate information to pass along to his bereaved family. Nevertheless, I dutifully gave my condolences to each family member, and slipped into such a monotonous pattern that I was startled to realize that, just ahead of me, Helen was now speaking to Rachel. I overheard her declare: “He was a wonderful man. I’m terribly sorry for your loss. I’ll miss him.”
“I’m sure of that much,” Rachel replied in a Bryn-Mawr accent she’d suddenly acquired, reminiscent of the eulogist’s. “Now you’ll have to actually pay someone to do your repair jobs.”
At that, Audrey stepped out of the line behind me and rushed forward to grab Helen’s arm. “Let’s go, Helen.” I stepped away to join them.
Rachel’s eyes widened as she saw who was ushering Helen toward the door. She grabbed Helen’s other arm. “No, please don’t disappear so quickly, you two,” she said to Audrey and me. “I want to apologize for my outburst at your show yesterday, Audrey. I had a bad reaction to the anti-depressants my doctor gave me. And I also wanted to tell you that there’s a gathering of Jack’s family and friends at my house. Please come. You, too, Erin. And Steve. Or should I say ‘Gilbert and Sullivan’?”
“I’m afraid I have to decline, Mrs. Schwartz,” Sullivan replied.
“That’s a shame.” Her features turned cold as she turned again to Helen. “You should come, too, Helen.”
“We’ll be there,” Audrey immediately replied. It took all my will power not to turn to her in astonishment.
“Good. Please just go on ahead to the house whenever you’d like. I hired a full staff of caterers to be ready for early arrivals.” She then turned to the man in the line behind Sullivan, drew him into a hug, and once again grew weepy.
I said a quick goodbye to Steve as he headed toward his car. Helen said, “I don’t want to go to Rachel’s house. She obviously only invited me because I was standing between a celebrity and a designer...two people she desperately wants to impress.”
“Maybe so, but this will be an excellent opportunity to do some digging,” Audrey countered.
“Digging?”
“Our Erin here is not only a premiere designer, but a self-made detective. Not that she likes to talk about it, but she solved a pair of murders that had the Crestview police completely baffled.”
“That’s not at all accurate,” I attempted.
“True, but I was trying to be modest on your behalf.” Audrey turned back to Helen, who was staring at me in surprise, and said, “It was actual
ly three murders. So let’s go look for clues at Rachel’s house right now, and with any luck, we’ll be able to leave before she even arrives.”
“But Rachel wouldn’t have had anything to do with Jack’s murder,” Helen protested.
“Don’t be so quick to exonerate her,” Audrey said sternly. “Don’t forget the famous police motto: When in doubt, blame the spouse.”
“I’ve never heard anyone say that,” Helen replied. (She mustn’t have heard Kay’s whodunit theories.)
“Well, if it isn’t an actual motto it should be.” Audrey unlocked her Mercedes with the button on her keychain. “We’ll caravan to your neighborhood, Helen. Then we’ll wait for you outside Rachel’s house. Let’s hurry over there before she has the chance to tamper with any evidence.”
Just how Audrey had gotten the notion that Rachel could possibly have “evidence” at her house after all this time was anyone’s guess. Helen and I exchanged exasperated looks, but meekly took our places in our respective cars as commanded.
Minutes later, the three of us were ushered inside the home of the late lamented Jack Schwartz by a properly somber host and hostess in funereal attire. A middle-aged couple whom Helen informed us she knew from her scrapbooking club had beaten us there. Audrey soon pulled me away from our conversation to whisper in my ear, “Quick. Let’s look around.”
Quasi-amateur sleuth or not, how could I resist? I enjoyed seeing people’s homes too much to decline. To Rachel’s credit, her Georgia Colonial house was lovely, although Sullivan would have termed it “froo-froo.” They’d obviously modernized the interior in the last few years, installing recessed lighting in the coved plaster ceilings. A cool palette had been used—sea-foam, sage, azure, salmon—with exquisite crown molding and built-in nooks and cubbies, where Rachel focused task lighting to show off her porcelain pieces to best advantage. In a corner étagère she had an impressive collection that—unfortunately, in my opinion—was comprised of clowns. The rich colors and remarkable individual yarn-like strands of hair on the pieces made it obvious at a glance that the artist was Zampiva, whose non-clown figurines were more to my taste.