The Dead Detective Agency (The Dead Detective Mysteries)

by Peg Herring

  “This is awful,” the woman’s bleated as she entered the unused office where he had established a base. “To think our Tori had to suffer so!”

  He should have known better, not being born yesterday, but he tried anyway. “She didn’t suffer, ma’am. Death was instantaneous.”

  He might as well have kept quiet.

  “It’s awful,” she repeated dramatically. “Tragic. I can’t believe this could happen to us!”

  Jennise Bowdlin was probably forty years old with large, watery eyes and very little chin which, combined with her unique voice, called to mind a sheep. She was dressed in traditional business wear, a navy suit with red accents. Gold-rimmed half-glasses hung on a cord around her neck, and her dark hair was gelled into the currently popular stiff spikes Madison thought looked ridiculous on anyone over thirteen. Prominent fingernails coordinated with her outfit, navy with tiny red diagonal lines across each. She carried a Lucite clipboard that seemed a permanent part of her left arm. Resigned, he waited for the performance to wind down.

  “What can be done about these madmen?” Jennise paced dramatically before him. “We can’t have young women being struck down in their own homes.”

  Resisting the urge to ask where she’d prefer them struck down, Madison said, “We don’t know yet who did it.”

  “One of those dope fiends,” she almost shouted. “He shouldn’t be hard to catch.” The tone implied more: If you know your job. If you do your job.

  “And why is that, ma’am?” He couldn’t help imitating Joe Friday’s deadpan, but she missed the irony as she fumbled for words simple enough for the ignorant policeman.

  “He’ll act strangely, won’t he? He just killed someone.”

  Madison sighed inwardly and changed the subject. “Can you tell me anything about Miss Van Camp that might help us find her killer?”

  Gazing at the ceiling, she considered. “Nothing I can think of right now.”

  “Who here was close to her?”

  “Well, the receptionist you spoke with, Yvonne, is friendly with everyone, to the point that her efficiency suffers.” The little aside was accompanied by a raised eyebrow. “But they weren’t that close, mostly because Tori was Yvonne’s relief for lunch. Having separate lunch hours limited the time they had to get acquainted.”

  “I see.”

  Jennise chewed on the stem of her glasses briefly. “You might speak to Carmon. She changed her own lunch hour to one o’clock so she and Tori could eat together.” Jennise’s wrinkled nose betrayed disapproval. “It surprised me. Carmon’s a bit of a loner.” Her tone suggested she might have added “loser” as well. “She’s efficient enough, but you never see her chatting with people or going out for drinks after work. Tori was her only friend here.”

  “Then I’d like to speak to her next.”

  Jennise consulted her clipboard unnecessarily, as if underlining her importance, and returned to lamenting. “It’s a terrible loss. Tori was coming along so well.” She patted her hair in an unconscious gesture of self-congratulation. “I’d worked with her, of course. She was so young, and she was from some Podunk-type town, so she was pretty naïve. But she was teachable, not as resistant as some.” From her tone, Madison guessed the office manager had a specific person in mind. Carmon, maybe, the one she had dubbed a loner? “Mr. Falk and Mr. Pardike just loved Tori, and neither of them is easy to please.” A raised brow indicated an understatement it would be unprofessional to enlarge upon.

  “I’ll be interviewing them as well.”

  Jennise didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. “We’ll have to go on, you understand. I can’t let this interfere with what must be done to maintain office efficiency.”

  “I understand. I’ll just be talking to people.”

  “It has nothing to do with anyone here,” she insisted. “This sort of crime practically screams drugs.”

  “That’s a possibility.”

  “Those people have no conscience, hopped up on whatever the substance of choice is these days. They could kill anyone with no remorse whatsoever.”

  Madison squelched the desire to make Jennise decide: was the killer cold-blooded and in control, or would he appear obviously guilty, as she’d claimed earlier? He tolerated advice on police procedure a while longer, and then asked once more to speak to Carmon Calley, Tori’s friend and fellow PA.

  In a few moments, a young woman entered the room and sat down opposite him. She was about the same age but the physical opposite of her dead friend. Where Tori had been tall, blond, and pretty in a china-doll way, Carmon looked like one of Raphael’s Madonnas, dark and lovely but with an undertone of grief. She was plainly devastated by Tori’s death, but there was something further that radiated from inside her, an old acceptance that life never lets you keep anything good for very long.

  Despite that, she was stunning. Long, dark hair hung straight from a center part and curved gently inward below her chin, framing dark, Latin eyes, smooth skin, and balanced features. Carmon dressed plainly, underplaying her beauty, but the sober look of her gray ensemble couldn’t hide it. She wore little makeup and only one piece of jewelry, a simple chain with a tiny gold flower attached. Sitting very still with arms at her sides and eyes directed at Madison, she created an overall impression of control. This woman did not let others inside her mind.

  “Yes, we were friends,” Carmon replied to Madison’s question. There was no more, and he had to lead her along. While she answered willingly enough, she didn’t warm up, as most people did, and begin adding detail. Asked how long she had known Tori, she said, “Since she came, eight months ago.”

  “And you two hit it off?”

  Carmon didn’t smile, but her face softened somewhat. “Everyone hit it off with Tori.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She regarded Madison solemnly, apparently aware of his intent to keep her talking. She gave more complete answers but spoke carefully, as if making sure each word was the right one before allowing it out. A woman with secrets, Madison thought, who had trained herself to reveal as little as possible in order to keep them.

  “Tori was one of those people it’s impossible not to like. At first you think, ‘She’s not that nice, no one is.’ But Tori really is—” Carmon’s lips tightened. “—was.” She took a moment to gather her composure, pulling it on as a cover, like the severe gray suit.

  “So why did you and she connect?”

  “She’d probably tell you we were soul mates or something like that. She singled me out after her first week here, started asking me to go places with her.” Her tone revealed a lack of understanding, even now, of Tori’s choice. “We were supposed to go to the Cineplex tonight.” The dark eyes glistened with sudden tears, but she blinked them away. Aware of her pride, Madison looked down at his notes to give her a chance to recover.

  “That’s a unique necklace,” he said after a moment.

  She almost smiled as she touched the thin gold chain. “Tori bought it for my birthday.” From her expression he judged she hadn’t received many gifts in her life, and he wondered why. A woman so lovely should be used to being showered with them.

  “Did she have other close friends?”

  Carmon shook her head firmly. “No boyfriend, if that’s what you’re asking. She’d had a long-term relationship in Washington, but it didn’t work out.”

  “What caused the breakup?”

  The woman understood immediately. “Nothing violent. Tori didn’t think they were going anywhere. She and the guy, Brad, agreed it was time to split.”

  “Amicably?”

  She nodded. Madison sensed girl-talk had covered the subject of Brad thoroughly. “They were comfortable with each other, like friends, but not serious, not moving toward love or marriage. Tori had been considering a change of scene anyway, so she put her resume on Monster and found the opening here in Grand Rapids.”

  “She picked up and moved halfway across the country?”

  Carmon shrugged. “I think
her father’s parents came from Michigan, or one of them did.”

  “It’s still a big move for a young woman.”

  “She wanted someplace new, and there wasn’t much family to consider, only a sister.”

  “Yes, we spoke with her.” Madison’s call to Elizabeth Collins had been of little help. Busy raising four young children, the woman hadn’t paid much attention to her sister. She was shocked and sad, of course, but her knowledge of Tori’s life was minimal. There had been no estrangement between them, just no time for each other.

  “Maybe she’d met a guy lately?”

  Carmon’s eyes flickered unconsciously before she answered. “No one I know of,” she said, her face blank.

  Not a lie, Madison decided, but there was something she could have said and didn’t. “Anyone she was interested in here at the office?”

  Again, Carmon’s pause was a fraction of a second too long. “I don’t think so.”

  “Look, if she was seeing a married man or something, we need to know.”

  “Oh, no!” she was genuinely shocked and a little angry. “Tori would never do anything like that.”

  Madison was impassive but unconvinced. Sometimes even the best friend didn’t know what a girl in love would do. He thanked Carmon Calley and let her go back to work, asking her to send in whichever of the brokers was currently available.

  Chapter Five

  Let’s Get Physical

  After a few wrong turns, Tori found an elevator and proceeded to Deck D where she followed signs to “Fitness Center.” Inside the glass-windowed door, the air was humid and smelled of chlorine. A pool. She resolved to get a swimsuit from Mr. Li next time. Next time, for Pete’s sake! She was accepting all this much too easily.

  Following smells and sounds, she went down a short hallway that turned onto an open area. To the right was a small closet where a youngish man stacked fresh towels onto a cart. On the left was a desk where a girl with multi-colored hair stood, totally engaged in chewing gum. Both wore Bermuda shorts in khaki and white shirts with nametags. She couldn’t read the man’s nametag, since his back was to her, but the girl was Megan. Tori waited a few seconds. The man had not seen her enter and the girl didn’t seem to care. Finally, she said, “I was told I could use the facilities this morning.”

  The girl looked up, stopping her chewing as if unable to accomplish both movements at once. A blank expression accompanied a quick once-over. Tori sensed a mute dismissal from Megan, who was all of sixteen. The brown eyes moved past her to the machines, and work began again on the gum. “Sure,” she said. “Help yourself.”

  Tori glanced around the large, softly humming room. Men and women of various ages and body types plied rowing machines, stair-climbers, treadmills, and weights, dedicating themselves to good health. Proof of life, Tori wondered, for did the dead worry about physical condition?

  Each person seemed intent on his own thoughts. A woman in a purple sweatshirt smiled briefly, but the look invited no girls-in-the-gym-together camaraderie. Megan stirred herself to action, led the way to a stair machine, and demonstrated its use. When she offered a bottle of water, Tori had a moment of anxiety. She had never been in a place like this. Did one tip the help? Not only did she not have any money with her, she didn’t remember seeing her purse anywhere in her room. She had no ID, no passport, no money.

  “I forgot my purse, but I’ll—” she began, but the girl interrupted her chewing once more. This time a smile appeared, and her manner warmed to almost friendly.

  “We aren’t allowed to take tips, but thanks anyway. It’s nice if people are polite enough to mention it. A lot of them are cranky on account of being so recently dead.”

  Tori stared. “Recently dead, did you say?”

  “Oh, shit,” the girl said. “I mean, I’m sorry.”

  “Meg,” a voice behind them warned. They both turned to see the man who had been stacking towels. He was strikingly handsome, with arms and chest like the hunks on romance novel covers and a face too perfect to be real: classic bone structure, gray-blue, smoky eyes, and a mouth at once strong and soft. Tori could read his nametag now: Michael. Despite physical beauty that screamed plastic surgery and capped teeth, the man’s direct gaze inspired the feeling he was one hundred percent real.

  Here’s someone who could lead people anywhere. What’s he doing as a cabana boy?

  “I’m sooooo sorry!” Megan exclaimed in the tone teenagers use when they want some adult to leave them alone. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Good. And watch your language too, please.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Megan turned to Tori. “I’m really sorry. Help yourself to a juice after your workout.” She moved off quickly, hoping to forestall further lecture from the man, but he had apparently said all he had to say to her. He turned his attention to Tori.

  “Meg’s new here. She’ll get the hang of things, but I hope she didn’t upset you.”

  “She says I’m dead.” Tori tried to digest the notion.

  The smile didn’t change. “When do you see Nancy?”

  This was becoming routine. “At ten.”

  He checked his watch, which Tori could see registered just after eight. “That’s good. Look, can you forget what Megan said and relax between now and then? Nancy will clear everything up, so there’s no sense worrying.”

  He really did have a soothing voice; in fact, his whole manner was reassuring. Tori found herself nodding, although she wanted to insist on answers. Giving her arm a squeeze of reassurance, he stepped away. She stared after him as if hypnotized for a few moments but finally broke the spell and turned on the machine. Soon measured pumping took over, and Tori concentrated on getting the most from her workout. Dead or not, she told herself, it can’t hurt to stay busy.

  Breakfast was an array of almost anything a person could want, but with new-found resolve, Tori stuck to fruit, coffee, and cereal. She returned to her room just after nine, took a quick shower, and changed into the red dress. It helped her mood somewhat to note she didn’t look dead. Her usually limp hair fell just the way she liked it, and her color was natural, maybe better than usual. Shouldn’t her skin look pale? She had seen a dead street person once, as white as paper.

  Slipping into the shoes, Tori surveyed herself in the mirror, deciding she’d visit the spa every morning from now on. There’d been no indication how long the trip would take, but she resolved not to worry about what came next. Nancy was supposed to clear everything up. Tori pursed her lips. She’ll be something special if she can explain how a person can feel both dead and alive at the same time.

  Chapter Six

  Take Care of Business,

  Mr. Businessman

  The man who breezed into Madison’s impromptu interview room was born to be a salesman, and thirty years at it had honed his skills. Kellerman was larger than life in many ways, with a huge chest, an oversized head, and hands the size of catcher’s mitts. Handsome and well-dressed, he had mastered the look-you-in-the-eye style, the self-deprecating manner, and the other tools of the sales trade. He had learned Madison’s name and used it as he entered the room, shaking hands genially and taking a seat as if he were interviewed by homicide detectives every day.

  “I’m Syd Kellerman, the K of PLK,” he said in a voice that could be heard at the pizzeria across the street. It was overkill for the tiny office, which was more like a closet, windowless and stuffed with business machine relics. Kellerman leaned back and crossed one leg over his knee, bumping the cheap metal desk in the process. “If I can help, I sure will, but I just got back to town.”

  “You were away all weekend?”

  “All week, actually,” Kellerman corrected. “Annual meeting in Miami. I returned last night around ten.” He clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Terrible thing to come back to. Tori was a really good kid, although I work mostly with Erica. Loomis and I share her time.”

  “So each personal assistant works for two of the brokers?”

  “M
ost of the time. Tori was teamed with Pardike and Falk, Carmon with Pollard and Winslow. Of course all our girls pitch in when somebody needs them. They’re good help.” Madison noted the unconscious arrogance of a man who’d had women to wait on him for decades.

  “Tori hadn’t been here that long, came from out west somewhere.” Kellerman shook his head in regret. “Probably trusted the wrong guy. I mean, GR is a pretty safe town, but sometimes they don’t think, you know? They invite some man home from a bar. Big mistake.”