Deadly Valentine (Special Releases)

by B. J Daniels

  Mitzy shoved herself up off the couch and headed for the bar, breezing past Oliver without looking at him.

  Jack rose, tucking the recorder into his jacket pocket again. ‘‘I assume neither of you is planning to leave town?’’

  He caught a look pass between Mitzy and Oliver.

  ‘‘We’re not going anywhere, Sheriff,’’ Oliver said impatiently.

  Jack turned his attention to Tempest, anxious to talk to her alone. She was already on her feet, no doubt eager as anyone to get away from this pair. ‘‘If you have a few minutes....’’ He motioned toward the foyer.

  She nodded and followed him out to where the coroner was just getting off the elevator.

  ‘‘Damn,’’ Lou Ramsey said, scowling down at the body, then at Jack. ‘‘You bring this kind of stuff with you from the big city?’’

  It did feel as if he’d brought something back with him, more old baggage than even he’d realized. ‘‘I can’t believe you’re still alive—let alone still the coroner,’’ Jack said to the cantankerous old veterinarian/councilman/ coroner.

  White-headed, stooped-shouldered and more temperamental than a de-hibernated grizzly in spring, Ramsey guffawed, then put down his bag. ‘‘I’m really looking forward to working with you,’’ he said. ‘‘Yeah, right.’’

  Ramsey asked Dobson if he’d shot the scene as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves from his bag. Dobson nodded. Jack sent Deputy Reed to keep the Sanderses company and make sure they remained in the living room until they could have their foyer back.

  With a series of creaks and groans, Ramsey lowered himself to the floor, obviously being careful not to touch any of the candy around the body. Jack watched him check Peggy’s throat.

  ‘‘Want the gist of it? Nothing stuck in the throat to choke on, too young in my opinion to have had a stroke. Unless she has a medical history to explain this, I’d say you got yourself a murder, McAllister,’’ the coroner said quietly after a moment. Then without turning, Ramsey pulled his bag closer and told Dobson to bag the chocolates as evidence, handing the young deputy latex gloves and evidence bags. ‘‘You’re sure?’’ Jack foolishly asked.

  Ramsey shot him a look over the shoulder. ‘‘Don’t tell me you didn’t already suspect as much based on her blue skin color. She bit her tongue more than once, indicating convulsions. I’d guess she was poisoned but we won’t know for sure until we check her stomach contents.’’ A Ramsey ‘‘guess’’ was a good bet any day, Jack thought as he watched the coroner take out tweezers and remove the nut from Peggy’s clenched fist, then scrape off the chocolate from her palm into one of the evidence bags.

  Jack watched as the old coroner carefully opened her other hand. ‘‘Well, what do we have here!’’ Ramsey said.

  ‘‘A valentine.’’ Tempest had been watching as Ramsey opened it with the tweezers. ‘‘The kind we used to give each other as kids.’’ Her gaze lifted for an instant to meet Jack’s, then dropped again to the coroner’s gnarled hands.

  Tempest was right. It was a kid’s valentine, bright colored with a clown on the front, folded in half so it fit into the flimsy paper envelope. It read: ‘‘You’re one smart cookie, but I’m smarter because I have you.’’ It was signed: ‘‘You Know Who.’’

  ‘‘Do you recognize the handwriting?’’ Jack asked.

  She didn’t answer. He watched her frown as she stared down at the valentine. She seemed to be miles away. He remembered the valentine boxes they made in grade school. By the end of the day, some boxes would be stuffed with valentines. There was always at least one kid who wouldn’t get any, like Peggy Kane. Kids could be so incredibly cruel.

  But now Jack wondered how many Tempest had gotten.

  Ramsey bagged the valentine, then took a peek in the shopping bag near the edge of the foyer table next to what Jack assumed was Peggy’s purse. ‘‘Hmm, interesting,’’ the coroner said and shot Jack a look. ‘‘There’s another box of chocolates in here. Looks identical to the one on the table.’’

  ‘‘Maybe she bought herself a box at Sweet Things when she got this one for Mitzi,’’ Jack suggested. And charged it to her boss.

  ‘‘I don’t think she’d do that,’’ Tempest said.

  He raised a brow.

  ‘‘Buying yourself a huge satin-quilted, heart-shaped box of expensive chocolates on Valentine’s Day—’’ She waved a hand through the air. ‘‘What woman would purposely make herself feel that badly?’’

  ‘‘Maybe Oliver told her to buy herself one,’’ Jack suggested.

  ‘‘Yeah, right,’’ Tempest said, echoing Ramsey’s earlier words. She shrugged. ‘‘I suppose she could have bought the box of chocolates as cover. Pretend to the clerk that the chocolates were for someone else. Still, I don’t think Peggy would do that.’’

  Jack had never understood the workings of a woman’s mind, but he did wonder why Tempest felt so strongly about this. He had a feeling, though, that it had nothing to do with logic or evidence or even her training.

  He pulled out his cell phone, dialed information and called Sweet Things. He could feel Tempest’s gaze on him as he questioned the clerk at the store. As he hung up, he gave Tempest a nod. She’d been right. The clerk remembered Peggy Kane. She had purchased only one box of chocolates. The reason the clerk remembered was because Peggy had paid for the box of chocolates with Oliver Sanders’s credit card and everyone knew the Sanderses.

  ‘‘Did the Sanderses buy any other boxes of chocolates before or after that?’’ he’d asked.

  ‘‘Not that I know of,’’ the clerk said. ‘‘But I wasn’t the only one working on the Valentine’s Day boxes.’’ Jack asked her to check with the other clerks and get back to him. ‘‘You’re sure that second box came from Sweet Things?’’ he asked Ramsey.

  The old man held it up in his gloved hands, turning it so Jack could see the Sweet Things logo engraved in the bottom. The box was obviously new and hadn’t been opened. Jack could hear the rustle of candy inside.

  Then Ramsey went through Peggy’s pockets, pulling out receipts, which he showed to Jack, then bagged. ‘‘What’s this?’’ He held up a key in his latex-gloved weathered fingers, a brow raised in question.

  ‘‘The elevator key,’’ Tempest said and shot Jack a look.

  Peggy hadn’t left hers in the elevator. That meant that Oliver had lied. The key now in the elevator had to be his. So how did it get there? The answer seemed obvious.

  ‘‘Bag the key that’s in the elevator and check it for prints,’’ Jack told Dobson. ‘‘Tempest, would you mind if we used your key?’’

  She produced it without hesitation.

  With no small amount of effort, Ramsey pushed himself to his feet. ‘‘Ready to take the body,’’ he announced.

  Jack nodded and walked back into the Sanderses living room. Mitzy stood at the window, her back to the room—and Oliver. Oliver was still at the bar, looking glum and guilty. But of what, Jack wondered.

  Deputy Reed stood at the edge of the room, appearing extremely uncomfortable. Neither Mitzy nor Oliver seemed to hear Jack as he entered the room.

  ‘‘I’m going to need statements from both of you, separately,’’ he said without preamble.

  Both turned then, both obviously ready to argue.

  ‘‘It appears Peggy Kane might have been poisoned,’’ Jack said. ‘‘We’re considering this a murder investigation.’’ He read them their rights. Mitzy seemed at a loss for words. Oliver hurriedly called his lawyer.

  ‘‘Deputy Reed will be happy to take you down to the Sheriff’s Department or follow you, but I know that you’ll both want to cooperate fully on this.’’ Jack nodded to Reed, then went back out to find the black-bagged body loaded onto a stretcher.

  ‘‘Won’t know much more until I open her up and check the stomach contents,’’ Ramsey was saying. ‘‘I’ll call the crime lab in Missoula. They’ll want their own pathologist to do it, but I’ll assist. Should be able to tell you something by this afternoo
n.’’

  Jack nodded. ‘‘Take all the gifts as evidence for now,’’ he ordered Dobson. ‘‘Ask Reed to get handwriting from both Mr. and Mrs. Sanders.’’

  He had Dobson fish Peggy’s keys out of her purse since he was still gloved, then bag the purse and its contents once he knew what she drove and where she lived.

  Deputy Reed brought the Sanderses out and took them down the elevator. Jack hung back, wanting to talk to Tempest alone.

  As the elevator closed behind the Sanderses and Deputy Reed, Jack glanced into the two shopping bags Mitzy had brought up. Both bags contained new clothing. But they could have once held the second box of chocolates.

  He stared at Peggy’s shopping bags for a moment, trying to figure out what was bothering him.

  ‘‘He didn’t buy her any lingerie,’’ Jack said finally, turning to Tempest. ‘‘Isn’t that odd?’’

  She seemed amused that he would ask her.

  ‘‘I mean, look at that pile of presents he had Peggy buy. Even those damned cooing birds. But no lingerie.’’ He wished he hadn’t said anything, because it probably didn’t mean anything and he was starting to feel foolish.

  ‘‘You think he was trying too hard,’’ Tempest said, bailing him out.

  Jack nodded, surprised how easily she’d put her finger on what had been nagging at him.

  She smiled and shook her head at him. ‘‘Sorry, but not even Oliver would ask his secretary to buy lingerie for his wife.’’

  ‘‘Oh.’’ He hadn’t thought of that. ‘‘I guess not. Too gauche?’’

  She nodded. ‘‘Especially considering the crush Peggy’s had on Oliver for years.’’

  He frowned. ‘‘Really?’’

  She mugged a face at him. ‘‘Don’t tell me you never noticed.’’

  He hadn’t. But then he’d had his own problems.

  ‘‘The gifts are pretty cliche´d,’’ Tempest said. ‘‘Lingerie does seem like an omission.’’ She shrugged. ‘‘He definitely was trying to impress her. He wanted something.’’ She seemed to consider that. ‘‘But it wasn’t to get her into bed. He had another motive for all the gifts.’’

  Jack found himself studying her, not surprised by how smart she was and not sure what he was looking for in her face. Not sure what he needed from her. Something. Absolution, no doubt. He’d treated her badly in the past and they both knew it.

  ‘‘I need to get statements from the Sanderses first,’’ he told her. ‘‘Then I’d like to talk to you, if you’re going to be around later?’’

  She laughed. Her laugh had aged nicely, just like she had. ‘‘I’m not planning to leave town, if that’s what you’re worried about.’’

  ‘‘I thought you might have a date,’’ he said, feeling strangely shy and uncomfortable around her.

  She flushed and looked away. ‘‘No.’’

  He cursed himself for his lack of tact. ‘‘Then I’ll give you a call later.’’ She gave him her number.

  Once down at the department, he had to wait until Oliver’s attorney arrived. When Mitzy finally arrived in her own car, she waived her rights to an attorney.

  By then Ramsey had called. He’d had the lab run the chocolates. The cremes were full of poison—strychnine to be exact. Definitely murder.

  Jack took Mitzy into the interrogation room, just a small room off the back with a couple of chairs and a table. River’s Edge was lucky to have a sheriff’s office at all. But since it was the richest part of the county, it got not only an office but a five-person staff.

  Mitzy stuck to her story of arriving to find the key in the elevator and Peggy already dead on the floor.

  He asked her about the chocolates, whether she’d purchased the second heart-shaped box. Rather than shock or indignation, she’d seemed amused that he thought she’d murdered Peggy.

  ‘‘What is my motive?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘I don’t know. Maybe you didn’t like her working for your husband,’’ he said.

  She smiled, different now that they were alone. Not so coy. Nor as brittle or obnoxious, either. ‘‘You know Oliver. He liked having someone who idolized him work for him.’’

  ‘‘Did Peggy idolize him?’’ Jack asked, remembering what Tempest had told him.

  She laughed. ‘‘Come on, Jack. You know how she used to stare at him all the time in school. She had a major crush on him.’’

  ‘‘That was high school,’’ he pointed out.

  She raised a brow. ‘‘Are we so different now than we were back then?’’

  He hoped to hell he at least was. ‘‘Is there anyone who might want to cause you harm?’’

  ‘‘You mean poison me? Of course not.’’

  Right. ‘‘Someone who might have been...jealous, maybe. Or had some grudge against you?’’ Had they still been in high school he could have come up with half a dozen off the top of his head. Except for a selected few friends, Mitzy had been a real bitch to everyone else.

  ‘‘Jealous?’’ She laughed. ‘‘Why would anyone be jealous of me?’’ She almost sounded sincere.

  ‘‘Because you’re successful, you live in the only penthouse in River’s Edge, you’re a well-known town figure and your last name is Sanders.’’

  She laughed. ‘‘You have no idea how hard it is being Mitzy Sanders.’’

  Yeah. But it did surprise him that she was trying to play down her success. Earlier at the penthouse she’d been flaunting it. What had changed? Oliver wasn’t there, he thought. Or Tempest.

  Also she was acting as if being married to Oliver wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He suspected she liked being Mrs. Oliver Sanders more than she liked being married to Oliver, but Mitzy was the kind of woman who liked to keep up appearances.

  ‘‘Was Peggy jealous of you?’’ he asked. If he knew Mitzy—which he thought he did—she’d rubbed her affluence, her success and her husband in Peggy’s face.

  Mitzy stared at him, half smiling. ‘‘You don’t really think that Peggy tried to...poison me?’’ She seemed to find even more humor in that. ‘‘Peggy didn’t have what it takes to kill anyone.’’

  Mitzy made it sound as if she saw the inability to kill as a character flaw. ‘‘You seem so sure of that.’’

  ‘‘Peggy was a dreamer,’’ Mitzy said. ‘‘In that way, she was a lot like Oliver.’’

  He raised a brow.

  She pursed her lips as if she wished she hadn’t added that last. ‘‘Oliver would be nothing without a good woman behind him. But then I suppose that could be said of most men.’’ She smiled, but he couldn’t miss the bitterness in her tone. It didn’t surprise him that Oliver might be a disappointment.

  ‘‘Anyway,’’ she continued, ‘‘how stupid would that be? Peggy plotting to poison me, then forgetting and eating the chocolates?’’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘‘Not even Peggy was that dumb, although you know how she was about chocolate.’’

  No, he didn’t. ‘‘She had a weakness for it? But she’d lost so much weight....’’

  Mitzy lifted a finely honed brow. ‘‘Just because she was slim, don’t kid yourself, Peggy was only masquerading in that body. She knew she’d never be able to keep it. She was like a person who buys a car she can’t afford. Eventually the bank is going to come pick it up. With Peggy it was just a matter of time before she started eating again and she knew it.’’

  ‘‘That’s pretty cold,’’ he said. Even for Mitzy.

  She opened her purse to take out a mint, unwrap it and pop it into her mouth. ‘‘It’s just the truth,’’ she said, sounding almost sad. ‘‘It was cruel of Oliver to make Peggy buy me chocolates knowing chocolate is the woman’s weakness.’’

  Jack couldn’t agree more, especially under the circumstances. So why had Oliver? ‘‘Does he usually get you chocolate for Valentine’s Day?’’

  ‘‘Valentine’s and every other occasion he can think of,’’ Mitzy said. ‘‘I swear he buys it for himself. Or maybe just to bug me. He knows I don’t eat the
stuff.’’

  ‘‘Not even one piece?’’ Jack asked in surprise.

  She shrugged. ‘‘I usually eat a piece just to appease him and he finishes the box. He’s a chocoholic and damned lucky he has the metabolism he does otherwise he’d be fatter than Peggy used to be.’’

  So Mitzy would have eaten one piece to appease Oliver. And it seemed one piece would have been enough to kill her.

  ‘‘What about Oliver? Did he have any reason to want to harm you?’’ Jack had to ask.

  The question didn’t seem to surprise her. ‘‘Oliver has no more killer instinct than Peggy did. I assure you, Oliver wouldn’t know what to do without me.’’ She looked bored. ‘‘Anything else you want to know?’’

  ‘‘Only who might have poisoned Peggy and why,’’ he said and thanked her for coming down.

  Oliver and his expensively dressed lawyer were waiting when Jack came out of the interrogation room with Mitzy. The lawyer, a man who introduced himself as Randall Garrison, had that same I’ve-got-money-and-connections look as Oliver. They could have been twins. They even wore the same cologne. Either that or Oliver had drowned himself in his to mask the smell of alcohol.

  Oliver seemed tense. Randall Garrison just seemed anxious to get to dinner.

  Oliver told the same story he’d told at the penthouse. He swore he had no idea how both of his keys ended up at the penthouse without him. He said he gave his to Peggy. He thought his other key was at his office, but maybe he’d left it home. Or maybe he gave Peggy both keys. He’d had so much on his mind, he hadn’t been paying a lot of attention. No, he hadn’t thought to tell Peggy to leave the elevator key at the main desk, that’s why he hadn’t bothered to even stop at the desk, just went straight up the fire exit when he realized the private elevator wasn’t going to be coming down.

  ‘‘How should I know who put poison in the chocolates?’’ Oliver demanded. ‘‘I was at my office all afternoon while Peggy picked up the presents.’’

  ‘‘Did anyone see you there?’’

  ‘‘No, because my secretary and I are the only employees and, as you know, my secretary, was out,’’ Oliver said impatiently.