by Rose Young
“Can anyone vouch for you?”
“No, I was alone.”
“Well, that's not good,” he muttered.
“No kidding. Do you think I want to be alone?” Georgi commented glibly.
Roxanne patted his hand and added, “We don't know the time of death, Corn. Maybe that would help.”
“We do have an idea of Mitch's evening,” offered Georgi. “He was at the wine tasting event at 6 pm. He left about 10:30 and said he was going to visit with Tony at the bistro for an espresso, before heading to his condo at Harlow Towers.”
Corn deduced, “So that could bring it to sometime after eleven that he was attacked at Columbus Circle?”
Georgi imagined poor Mitch leaving the bistro and ending up in the shrubs. “It’s possible,” he murmured.
Cornelius asked, “Where was he found?”
“He was found in the garden just outside the bistro, right behind Christopher Columbus’ statue,” Roxanne answered. Georgi’s emotions overcame him. His head slowly sank to his chest.
“Georgi,” Corn snapped, jerking him out of it. “You need an alibi. Is there anyone who saw you on your way home? The timing is too close to you leaving work, especially if Tony was the last person to see Stockman alive.”
Georgi visualized leaving work that evening taking the short drive in his PT Cruiser to his Hempstead Street apartment and grabbing the mail. “Ohh! Ohh! Mrs. Wolcott! She was home! She heard me come in,” Georgi said excitedly.
“How do you know?” asked Corn.
“Because she was playing the song I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor. I started singing it in the hallway, and she started singing behind her door, and then she came out into the hall in her bathrobe and pink slippers. We belted out the whole tune together. Gloria would have been proud of us,” he smiled, cherishing the happy memory. “Then Mrs. Wolcott invited me in for some cookies and we sat on her Victorian chaise together, dipping them in milk. I went to bed at midnight.”
“Oh,” said Corn, “well, that alibi will do.”
Roxanne patted Georgi’s hand and giggled, so did Georgi. Corn looked down at his notes and smirked while shaking his head, imagining the whole scene.
Cornelius let out a satisfied sigh, leaned forward, and looked over his reading glasses at Georgi then Roxanne. A slight smile emerged, while he rubbed his hands together, “Not to worry my friends. All is well in the hands of Cornelius Pendergast. I know how to manage the detective. Let's go to our meeting, shall we?”
Chapter 18
Day 3 – 2 pm
Across the street from Attorney Pendergast's office, J.J. zipped along on his skateboard, weaving around cars and dare-deviling over the curbs and sidewalks. Elevated high above him, pigeons perched and cooed in the brownstone steeple of St. James Episcopal Church. This Gothic Revival giant was erected in 1847 and was designed by the famous Richard Upjohn, who had just completed Trinity Church in Manhattan.
J.J. stopped and sat on a knee-wall in the shade, waiting. Finally, he observed Georgi, Roxanne, and a portly man in a suit step from the law offices of Whale Oil Row. The threesome walked to Governor Winthrop Boulevard, passed the Holiday Inn and continued to the police headquarters. Directly across from headquarters was the Ferry Terminal entrance located on the Thames River.
J.J. took a hard right and swooped down Eugene O’Neil Drive past the New London Day Newspaper headquarters, then took a left on to State Street, to the city center Parade Plaza. He swerved around the Whale Tail fountain and landed to the left of Union Station. Hiding in the shadows, J.J. took out his phone and texted a message, Blondie, boy-George and Lawly going to Cops.
***
Inside police headquarters, Detective Morrison welcomed them all into the meeting room. “I see we have company,” he nodded to Attorney Pendergast. “Pendergast,” the detective warmly extended his hand.
“I'll be representing Georgi,” Pendergast stated.
“Yes, I assumed, please have a seat.” Detective Morrison took out his pen and tapped it on his pad of paper, looking curiously at the three of them.
Pendergast took the opportunity, “Are you planning to place Georgi under arrest?”
“No, no,” Morrison said with certainty, “we just need an official statement from him, as to his whereabouts the evening his boss, Mitch Stockman, died.”
“Well, that'll be easy enough,” the attorney said, looking toward Georgi. “You tell him what you just told me, Georgi.” Pendergast looked back at the detective, and raised his eyebrows high enough to signify, wait to hear this one.
Georgi described his disco song duet with Mrs. Wolcott. Detective Morrison officially recorded the statement while trying to keep his sober composure. Pendergast reminded him that Georgi’s alibi was solid. The wary detective promised that he would be confirming the story with Mrs. Wolcott.
Georgi piped in, “Ask Mrs. Wolcott the name of the song. It was the Grammy winning hit, ‘I Will Survive’ by Gloria Gaynor. Suddenly, Georgi became squeamish, and mumbled, “It seems ironic, doesn't it? I survived and Mitch didn’t.”
Morrison said, “Right Georgi, so that was the song you were singing. Let’s see if Mrs. Wolcott remembers all these details.”
“Oh, she will,” sang Georgi.
Attorney Pendergast interrupted, “That's enough commenting, Georgi.” Georgi hung his head and with only his eyes, he looked up at the attorney, “Okay,” he said humbly.
“Wait,” demanded Morrison, “Georgi, tell me what you know about poisons.”
“I don’t know anything about poison!” he cried.
Pendergast returned sternly, “Georgi! Don’t say another word.” Then quietly, “Detective, you’re barking up the wrong tree!”
Roxanne spoke up, “Detective, there must be someone else out there who knows poisons.”
Pendergast quickly ordered Georgi and Roxanne, “You two are dismissed! I’ll meet you outside.”
Quietly, they left the room. In the hallway Georgi whispered to Roxanne, “That Detective Dan Morrison is bitter like a harsh wine with overt tannins. He is so acidic he reminds me of raw rhubarb, tart and puckering. He makes me cringe. I don’t like him anymore.”
Georgi was on a roll, “And for that matter your Attorney Corn was vastly different in there, all gruff and serious. He’s a bit of a rumpot isn’t he?”
“Whatever do you mean?” asked Roxanne confused.
“He’s stout, well-rounded, and colorful, but he comes with a kick!” He paused and explained in a quiet undertone, “It’s a fruity German alcoholic punch and he reminds me of it, that’s all.”
In her most solemn voice, Roxanne said, “That's the way it goes Georgi. It’s business, all business, once you enter a police station. It’s formal, no niceties, no joking around. It’s serious as death should be,”
Georgi’s mood changed again. Trying to keep his voice down yet still in a melodramatic tone, he added, “This is horrible! How do you go on with life when someone close to you has died? There is a part of me that doesn’t think it happened. It’s as if I had a bad dream, and now I’m awake and it’s over. I’m normally happy and then suddenly I realize, I’m living a nightmare!” His arms thrust skyward, “Mitch is gone and I’m by myself to run his business.” His heralding arms collapsed weakly to his sides and he slumped. “He was the best boss ever. I’m so torn up. I feel horribly sad. I don’t know what is up or down anymore.” A silence fell between them, as he became tearful.
Roxanne locked her arm onto Georgi’s and gave it a squeeze. She knew just how he felt, after having lost a close cousin when she was young, a few dear pets, and her father. She had seen loss, but also knew of it through her husband’s work as a firemen and rescue worker. He had seen families distraught by fire and accidents. She too wondered, what is the answer?
“Look,” she said, “there is no way to deal with this properly. Everyone has their own way to grieve. I think it is best to be yourself and I think that if Mitch were right here with us he wo
uld say, ‘Georgi, I had a good life while I was here. I want you to have a good life too. Now carry on.’ He doesn’t want you moping around. There is no honor in a head hung low. Keep your chin up, and be your cheerful self. Yes, this has changed things but that is the journey of life. It’s an adventure and we’re in the thick of it together.”
Georgi squeezed her arm back and said, “I don’t know how I could do this without you. What an odd set of circumstances that brought us together. Thank you, Roxanne, you’re a dear friend.”
Pendergast emerged from the meeting releasing them of the police station. They walked back to the office together.
***
Pushing off on his skateboard, J.J. weaved on to Water Street toward the police station. He had perched himself so he could watch the windowed reflection of Lawly, Blondie and boy-George pass right behind him. J.J. pretended to be listening to his iTunes, he picked up his board and walked behind them hoping to overhear something that would earn his keep.
Chapter 19
The quick walk up Governor Winthrop Boulevard to his office gave Attorney Pendergast time to discuss his outcome with Georgi and Roxanne. “Well I've got you covered, Georgi,” he declared, “Don't you worry, the detective will be calling me now. If he shows up at your storefront, you just tell him to see me.
“You might be a likely suspect on paper, but I don’t believe you did it. There must be someone out there who wanted Stockman dead. There has to be another motive the detective isn't aware of yet. Can you think of anyone?”
Georgi shook his head, “Everyone around Mitch, that I've known, was friendly. I just don't understand. I thought it was a random mugging at first, but not now! We have to figure this out!”
Pendergast conjectured, “If it weren’t for the plant in his mouth, you being beaten up, and Roxanne getting mugged, we might have thought this guy murdered him out of random anger. But he has a bigger mission. Georgi you need to look into your business records, try to find some connection that set up these circumstances. The detective will do his part but you may have the key and you just don’t know it yet.”
With vigor, Georgi answered the call to duty, “I will make it my homework, Sir,”
“I have a bit of an idea,” Roxanne inserted, “Since the detective is going to ask Marissa about funding the reward for information, he’ll be putting it in the paper. Georgi, you and I could hang the reward posters all around town and spread the word in the neighborhood. Maybe someone will bite. The sooner we are free from this, the better.”
“Definitely,” Georgi agreed, “let’s do it. There must be someone out there with some clue. I wonder if there is anything else we could do.” Georgi’s fingers went to his lips, tapping them as he thought.
“Oh! I’ve got it!” he declared excitedly. He stopped short, then twirled on one foot to face Roxanne, finishing his move with wavering jazz hands. “Maybe in a few weeks, I’ll then host a memorial event for Mitch at Vinho Verde. It will honor him and celebrate his life. Mitch has lots of friends here. It could be a fabulous way to celebrate my dear friend in the fashion he loved, with wine, food and socializing.”
Georgi’s imagination roamed, “We could set it up and ask Detective Morrison to check out the people who attend for more leads. Who knows, maybe the killer would come if he is posh.” Georgi jumped and grabbed Roxanne, “We could get a lead and clear my name, and when he is caught, our lives will be safe and calm again!”
As they were congratulating each other, Pendergast croaked, “Wait a minute here! You two must be out of your minds! You're both ridiculous! You’ve lost your common sense. You don't put yourselves on the street and start setting traps! First, you need to see what happens with the reward announcement. Morrison may receive false leads from the riff-raff around here, you know, the dock-rats and slippery eels that slink around doing deals on the streets. Then add in young treasure-seekers with nothing else to do. Come on! You’re risking your lives with those ideas!”
He huffed and puffed then continued, “I’ve seen this happen. Morrison will get more leads than he’ll know what to do with, and you may be stirring a large pot of trouble. Who knows what kind of characters are following you? Who knows what you’ll be dredging up from the depths of that trouble pot?”
Georgi perked up and argued, “But this is the way to get results! Just like wine, we are setting a trap, like when a vintner collects the sediment with a vintrap or fermentation trap. We are merely creating a situation where the killer or anyone involved with him becomes trapped naturally. But we,” Georgi grabbed Roxanne, “provide the filter to catch them.”
Pendergast stopped, cocked his head and looked at Georgi from a new angle. “I’m not sure, young man, if wine wit is a proper metaphor but I do respect your point.”
“That's exactly why this is going to work,” urged Roxanne. “I can feel it. Gardeners have good intuition. When we know, we know. We feel it in our bones. Come on Corn! Besides, Detective Dan has already agreed to post a reward and is calling Mrs. Stockman. It will be at least $1,000 dollars. And if the killer isn’t caught, a memorial event is going to happen anyway.”
Pendergast growled, “Aargh, you never know what you’ll attract, Roxy, you never know.” She scowled at him in response.
Dutifully, Cornelius Pendergast thought hard before objecting anymore, “I'm just saying, I don't like you and Georgi doing anything overt. You are my clients. I’m here to give you advice. I don’t like it one bit, you being on the streets.”
Another frustrated grunt escaped his throat, “But I also know I can't stop you two schemers.” He reflected on the idea a little more, and warned, “Look, think it through, will you? I don’t want you to be targets.” His eyes narrowed to tiny slits.
Still displeased, he pontificated, “If Morrison and your husband Sam approve of what you’re doing, then fine. But be sure to tell them I did not advise you to put up reward posters. And worst of all, hosting a memorial service to catch a killer. Okay?” Then he muttered, “Let’s hope it’s all over with before that day comes.”
“Sure, Corn, we’ll do as you ask and be in touch,” Roxanne winked at him.
Corn admonished her, “You’re a terrible liar, Roxy. You’ve got me very concerned. I will call Morrison and Sam myself if you don’t.” He sighed loudly. “Be careful, watch your back and call me with updates. Okay?”
“We will, thank you Corn.” Roxanne gave him a friendly pat on the arm.
“It’s a good thing I’ve known you forever,” he mumbled at her.
Then Georgi put out his hand, “Thank you, Sir,” because he didn’t know what to call him anymore. Attorney Pendergast, or Corn? Roxanne and Georgi walked to her truck, as Pendergast strolled towards his office.
***
J.J. dropped his skateboard to the ground and took off. He weaved his way down the incline of State Street and stopped and sat on the stairs of the impressive First Congregational Church. The magnificent grey-stone steeple loomed over the novice spy as the well intentioned saints who resided there, whispered divine guidance in vain.
He texted the message, need 2 CU 911, and sent it. Lifting off his perch, J.J swerved down the street, passed the train tracks toward Fisher Island’s ferry dock and zoomed to the boardwalk by the pier. Sighting a vacant bench, he did a sidewinding trick on it then caught the board on the way down.
C U on State St @ Sarges, the return text ordered.
Chapter 20
Day 3 – 4:30 pm
Roxanne dropped Georgi off at the Vinho Verde Wine Bar and went home to garden. While removing the dead-heads from the flowers, she looked up to see Sam arriving home from work.
“Hi dear,” she sang.
“You're in a cheerful mood,” Sam grabbed his jacket from the vehicle and followed her into the house.
“What's going on?” he asked, half wondering if his wife was up to any shenanigans. He knew her all too well, once she was involved, she was fully committed to the very end.
“Geo
rgi and I saw Corn, and we went to Dan's office at police headquarters. It all went well,” she answered.
“It did?” he queried, wondering if she wasn’t leaving out a few details.
“Well, fine enough,” she paused a moment. “After our meeting, Georgi and I came up with a great idea to flush out some leads!”
“What are you talking about?” Sam asked, standing still and suddenly concerned.
She described their idea of putting reward posters around town, and Georgi hosting the memorial event for Mitch at the Vinho Verde, and this would hopefully flush out some leads for the detective.
“What! Are you nuts? This is not a Sherlock Holmes story. This is not the game of Masterpiece Mystery. This is not how killers are caught!” Unconventionally upset, he took a deep breath then slowly said, “I had called…and involved attorney Pendergast…so he could calm you both down and knock some sense into the two of you! How? How is it, that you take a murder, with Georgi being a major suspect, and turn it into hanging posters in town looking for a parade of suspects and a memorial service to expose a killer?”
Sam shook his head while staring at her in disbelief. “How can you do this? How about you do nothing and let Detective Morrison do his job?” He put his palm to his forehead and let out a big sigh, “Ughhh.”
“Listen,” he said thoughtfully, “I married you because you are fun and interesting, never a dull moment, you love to socialize, cook and entertain. You've been the perfect wife. And now you want to use all those lovely qualities to trap a killer. I can't believe it. Never… Never, would I have imagined this. I think you're insane!”
Roxanne rattled something in the kitchen, “What are you doing?” he asked rather roughly.
“I'm making us some chamomile tea, to help you relax.” She gave him a cheeky smile.
Sam laughed sarcastically and lowered himself into his big leather chair. “I’m going to need something stronger,” he asserted, “How about a chamomile hot toddy for the special occasion of dealing with my eccentric wife?” He stretched out his body then reclined further into his favorite spot.