“That still doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t be trying to figure out who killed her.”
Bob shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. I know it looks pretty bad that a bunch of reporters aren’t investigating a murder that hit so close to home. I really am sorry about that and I suppose it just shows how burned out we all are. Now I have a question for you.”
“What?” I asked a little warily.
“Haven’t you noticed how much nicer it is to be at work without Kate here?”
“Well, sure, but––”
“See what I mean, DeeDee? What’s done is done. Let the police figure it out and when they do, I’ll write up another prize-winning story. Until then, if I were you, I’d let it go.”
Maybe it was sound advice but it didn’t seem like good advice to me. It seemed heartless and cold and cruel. But I had a strong feeling that it was also going to be the advice I’d get from everyone else at the Kemper Times. “I don’t know,” I began. “I can’t let it go. It seems wrong to me that no one around here cares.”
“Suit yourself,” Bob said shortly as he turned to leave the break room. He was almost through the door when he tossed over his shoulder, “But if you’re determined to keep on ‘investigating,’ I suggest that you don’t look too far from your very own cubicle.”
“What does that mean?” I called out, but Bob had already vanished. Was Bob talking about Ren? I’d suspected Ren myself but I still couldn’t square the nice guy who sat next to me with a cold-blooded killer. I poured myself a cup of coffee and then on a whim fixed one for Ren. I usually brought Jeff coffee in the morning but Bob’s words were sticking in my head. Ren was right next to my cubicle. Was Bob implicating Ren in Kate’s murder? He seemed like an unlikely suspect but everyone knows that the least likely suspect is usually the guilty one. Jeff could get his own coffee this morning.
I found Ren in his usual hunched over position in his cubicle. “Good morning,” I said cheerfully. “How about a fresh cup of coffee?”
Ren lifted his head and looked at me bleary eyed. “You’re a life saver, DeeDee,” he said as he reached for the cup. His hands were trembling and he looked like he hadn’t slept for a week. Noting the stubble on his chin, his bloodshot eyes and his clothes—the same clothes he’d been wearing the day before—I asked, “My goodness, Ren, have you been here all night?”
Ren took a long gulp of coffee. “Yep. My feature for Sunday crapped out on me. I had to work double time to fill the front page.”
No one so dedicated could be a killer. Still, I had to do some fishing. “I was just talking to Bob about who might have killed Kate.”
Ren looked at me from over the rim of his coffee cup. “Oh, yeah? Any insights?”
“None at all. How about you? Who do you think did it?”
“Frankly, I don’t really care. Sorry if that sounds cold but I’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’ve got two more stories for the Sunday Lifestyles and I’m still short a column.”
“I thought you wrote the Sunday column yourself.”
“I usually do but my mind has gone completely blank. It’s weird, DeeDee. Totally shot. I feel like someone erased my brain at some point over the past twelve hours.” Ren’s gaze suddenly sharpened. “Hey, DeeDee, you could do me a huge favor.”
“Name it,” I said.
“Would you be able to write this week’s column for me? You could be my guest columnist.”
“What?” My heart pounded with excitement. “I’d love to do that! What should I write about?”
“Your pick,” Ren said magnanimously. “Seven hundred and fifty words and I need them by five o’clock Friday at the latest. Think you can handle that?”
“Of course I can!” A dark thought hit me. “What will Jeff say? Don’t we need his permission?”
“Who cares?” Ren responded a little sharply. He reeled himself back in. “He won’t remember if he gave his permission or not. I’m sorry, but I’m more than a little tired of waiting to get the green light from Jeff to do anything other than the most boring, formulaic crap that this paper regularly turns out. Let’s make this a real newspaper again.”
“I’m not exactly the person you want to use if you’re trying to make this a real newspaper again,” I reluctantly said.
Ren shook his head. “Don’t sell yourself short, DeeDee. I’ve read the stories you’ve written and you have a nice style. I’m betting that you’ll give me a great column. Just do me one favor.”
“Name it!”
“Don’t make it too cute and momsy or all about your hubby. That kind of stuff makes me gag. I want something fresh and different. Shock me.”
“Shock you?”
“Shock me,” Ren repeated. “This paper and its readers need some shaking up. Are you game?”
“Totally,” I assured him. I turned to my computer. Now my hands were shaking. Writing a column was going to be completely different from doing a story on a local theater group or any of the other fluff pieces that I’d been doing. While I was thrilled that Ren had asked me, I was also more than a touch nervous. What did I know about writing a column? Worse, what did I have to write about if I couldn’t write about being a mom or Steve or anything else cute in my life? I was basically a cute kind of gal. I didn’t know anything else.
Still, if fresh and different was what Ren wanted, then fresh and different was what he was going to get. Staring at my computer, I thought long and hard about something that I hadn’t seen in the Kemper Times before. Finally, after twenty intense minutes, I got an idea and began to write. As I worked at my computer, a stray thought popped into my head. Had Ren asked me to write a column because he really needed my help or was he just throwing me a bone to get me to stop asking him about Kate’s murder?
Now who’s paranoid? I asked myself. Still, it was a little strange. Well, strange or not, Ren had asked me to write a shocking column for him and that was exactly what I intended to do. Shock him.
“Mom? I got the job!” Tyler’s voice was excited.
“You did? What happened, did they hire you on the spot? You just had the interview today!” I was home, in my kitchen where I belonged. Dinner––cheeseburgers, a tomato salad and chocolate cake for dessert––was ready and I was enjoying a well-earned glass of sauvignon blanc. Writing a column was much more demanding than I’d anticipated. How had Erma Bombeck churned out two a week for years and years and years?
“Yeah, they did,” Tyler said proudly. “They asked me if I could start tonight. I work seven to three. Kind of sucky hours but I can still see friends after work.”
“At three in the morning? Who do you know who’s still up at that hour?” I forced myself to stop talking. Sometimes I sound like such a mom that I don’t know how Jane and Tyler stand me. “Never mind. You’re an adult. You can see whomever you want whenever you want.”
Tyler laughed. “Thanks. Hey, listen, if this works out I’m going to get an apartment of my own. I think I could get into working for Kutrate Kemicals for the rest of my life.”
Like Tyler had said, any job was an honorable job and in Tyler’s case, any job was a good job. Although I had dreamed of my only son being a lawyer or a doctor, I’d be happy to have him working steadily. “Good for you,” I said warmly.
“Now what exactly do you want me to do?”
“Where are you?” I asked.
“About three blocks from home.”
“Come home and have dinner,” I instructed. “We can talk then.”
“All right. See you in a few.”
Tyler hung up and I put the finishing touches on dinner. Steve had a meeting that night and while I usually miss him when he doesn’t come home for dinner, I was glad that he was going to miss tonight’s meal. I didn’t want him to hear Tyler and me scheme. When Tyler breezed through the back door five minutes later, I was setting the table. “Hi!” I said. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks,” Tyler said. “You know, I’m really glad you steered me in the direction of Kutrate
Kemicals. I never would have thought of applying there since Sister Dearest is also employed by them.”
“Did you tell them that?”
“Yeah, I had to. They ask on the application if you have any relatives working there but since we’ll be in completely different areas it doesn’t matter. Jane is white collar while I’m strictly blue.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I said.
“You’ve got that right. I think that’s been my problem, Mom. I’ve been thinking I needed to have some kind of management job when really I’m probably going to be a whole lot more comfortable being a custodian. This way I can use my body and work and let my mind wander. It’s going to be ideal for songwriting.”
“It does sound ideal,” I agreed. “Now let’s eat. We have some planning to do.”
Over dinner Tyler and I came up with a very bare bones plan on how Tyler could find out about the business connection between Fritz Scheider and Kate Weston. I was treading very lightly because I didn’t want to get my son fired before he’d worked a full week. Or even a full day. “Now, if you feel the least bit uncomfortable, don’t do anything,” I warned him.
“Don’t worry,” Tyler said. “I’m fine. I’ll ask around about Fritz and keep my ears open about your dead boss. No problemo.”
Since Tyler didn’t seem worried, I tried to follow suit and discovered that it wasn’t all that hard. After all, Tyler was going to be legitimately employed by Kutrate Kemicals as a custodian. It wasn’t like he was going to be doing anything illegal. And if I really wanted to put my Pollyanna glasses on, he was also going to be employed, something he hadn’t been in quite some time. “It’s kind of fun being detectives, isn’t it?”
Tyler laughed. “I wouldn’t say what either of us is doing is really detective work, Mom. Columbo would probably laugh at us.”
“No, he wouldn’t! Columbo was always kind, even to amateurs although I don’t think it would be smart to tell Jane about our sleuthing,” I suggested.
“Can I tell her I’m working at Kutrate?”
“Well, of course you can! She’s going to notice sooner or later. You know she’s always working late and you’ll probably run into each other.”
“How about Dad? Can I tell him?”
“Sure but let’s emphasize your new job and de-emphasize our detective work, okay? Dad and Jane tend to get a little…” I searched for the right word.
“Hysterical,” Tyler supplied.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “We don’t need to get them all worked up while we do some research. It’s pointless.”
“No problem, Mom,” Tyler said. “I don’t want Princess Janie stroking out on me and there’s no sense in getting Dad all worked up either. We’ll just do our thing and not say a word in front of either of them.”
Is it any wonder why Tyler is my favorite child? I adore Jane but Tyler and I have always been very simpatico. “So I think you need to go to work, learn your job and start casually asking about Fritz and Kate. But give it time,” I urged. “There’s no rush.”
“Don’t worry,” Tyler assured me. “I’ll find out what you need to know and I’ll be so smooth about it that no one will even know they’re being interrogated. Piece of cake. And speaking of cake, I could really go for something sweet. What do you have?”
“Chocolate ice cream or peanut butter cookies.”
“Homemade?”
I shook my head. “From the grocery store. I haven’t had much time to cook or bake lately.”
“Maybe you need to stop working,” Tyler said. “I liked it better when you were always home making stuff.”
“I did too, honey, but I like earning a paycheck. It feels good.”
“You got that right,” Tyler agreed. “I can’t wait to start getting paid again. It sucks being broke all the time. I guess I’ll have the ice cream if you’re sure Dad won’t mind.”
“He won’t even notice,” I said, rising to my feet and heading for the freezer. Steve wouldn’t notice because I wasn’t going to tell him that Tyler finished the ice cream. Steve can be quite territorial about two things: me and ice cream. After fixing Tyler a generous bowl and covering it with chocolate syrup, I returned to the table. “All I ask is that you be careful. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”
“Mom,” Tyler said with his usual confidence, “are you kidding? I’ll be fine. You know I can take care of myself.”
I did know that but I also knew that someone had killed Kate Weston and it was looking as if someone might have wanted to kill Fritz Scheider as well. This wasn’t a game Tyler and I were getting involved in. It was much more serious than that; it was murder.
Tyler left for work at six thirty after promising me that he’d text me if he learned anything. I was on pins and needles all evening while I waited to hear from him. Sometimes I’m so grateful that I wasn’t a parent during the 1970’s when young people hitchhiked all over the country and cell phones weren’t around yet. I would have gone mad not knowing where Jane and Tyler were all the time and I never would have been able to stand the thought of them hitching a ride with anyone. I always thought I’d worry less when Jane and Tyler were older. Another thing I was wrong about since I seem to worry about them even more now that they’re adults and make their own decisions. After checking my cell phone every five minutes, I finally gave into my urge to text Tyler right before I went to bed.
“What are you doing?” Steve questioned although it should have been fairly obvious. “Who are you texting?”
“Tyler.”
“Now?” He looked at the bedside clock. “It’s almost midnight.”
“He’s at work and I want to hear how it’s going,” I explained. Tyler had texted Steve earlier to tell him that he was starting a new job but neglected to say where his new job was. Steve had neglected to ask since he was so happy that Tyler was working anywhere. “You know me—the original mother hen.”
“He’s lucky to have a mom like you,” Steve said sleepily. “Tell him I hope everything’s going good for him and then turn out the light. It’s late.”
I turned out the light and then texted in the dark. How’s it going?
Tyler texted back almost immediately. I will never know how that kid can text so fast. Wow! Just wow! Do I have some dirt for you! I’ll tell you when I get up tomorrow afternoon.
I hadn’t considered that part of Tyler’s new schedule. He wouldn’t be getting up until the afternoon when I was at work. How would I be able to stand waiting so long? Can’t you tell me now?
Again, his response was lightning fast. Let’s just say that Kate’s fingerprints are all over this place. Tell you more tomorrow.
The phone went silent and I knew Tyler wasn’t going to text anymore. When he’s done with a conversation, texted or otherwise, he’s done. How frustrating, I thought as I plugged my cell phone into its charger for the night. What could Tyler possibly have to tell me? Laying back on my pillow, I stared up into the dark. What had Tyler meant about Kate’s fingerprints being all over Kutrate Kemicals? Not that I was totally surprised by that. Kate had been a journalist by trade so naturally she was curious about everything. And nosy. But how could she have possibly gotten her fingerprints all over when she hadn’t worked at Kutrate? What had Tyler meant?
Well, I obviously wasn’t going to find out until the next day and since I had two interviews lined up for the following morning, I really needed to get some sleep myself. I’d find out soon enough what Tyler was talking about and hopefully one more piece of the puzzle would fall into place.
Chapter Eighteen
Work passed with glacial slowness the next day and even the interviews I did didn’t help make the day go any faster. It was interesting how old hat doing an interview had become. Ask a few leading questions and then sit back and listen while your subjects talked about their favorite topic—themselves. Even though I was brand new to the newspaper biz, I had already learned that most people leap at the chance to talk about themselves. It w
as kind of sad in a way—didn’t any of these people have friends or relatives who listened to them? But it was also relaxing. All I had to do was say, “Tell me about yourself,” and my story was all but written. I was putting the finishing touches on an interview I’d done on a local pediatrician who moonlighted as a magician when Ren poked his head around the wall of our adjoining cubicles. “Hey, DeeDee, did you hear?”
“Hear what?” I asked.
“The police are holding a person of interest in Kate’s murder.”
My head jerked upwards. “Are you serious? Who?”
“Guess,” Ren said.
“Ren, don’t tease me! I don’t have a clue who killed Kate and it’s driving me crazy!”
Ren looked slightly surprised by my heated response. “I didn’t know you were all that enthralled by the case,” he said.
“Well, I am. Kate was murdered right here. Of course I’m enthralled. I haven’t been able to understand why everyone else on the newspaper doesn’t seem all that interested.”
Ren shrugged. “I guess it’s a mixture of ennui and exhaustion. Working here tends to suck your spirit right out of you. We all want to know who did it but no one has the energy to do more than sit back and let the police do their job.”
“So who are the police holding?”
“You really aren’t going to guess?”
“Ren!”
“All right, I’ll tell you. They’ve got her husband. Oldest story in the book. Follow the money.”
“You’re kidding me!” I truly hadn’t suspected Lou Grant at all. Yes, he stood to inherit quite a bit and their marriage seemed loveless, but murder? That takes a whole different kind of personality than the one I saw the other day at Kate’s house––the free spirit in the peacock blue silk robe and the Fiesta plates. “Do they have any evidence?”
“They must have something if they brought him in for questioning,” Ren said. “I’m not all that surprised. They had a weird marriage from the get go. Any guy who’d legally change his name to Lou Grant because of some old TV show,” Ren shook his head in disbelief, “well, I think that speaks volumes, don’t you?”
Black and White and Dead All Over: A Midlife Crisis Mystery (Midlife Crisis Mysteries) Page 20