Midnight Snacks are Murder

by Libby Klein

  Gia paused his cleaning. “You went in the victim’s house?”

  “Um … well … yeah.”

  “Bella, you have to be more careful. You just got your name cleared from the other mess.”

  “I know. But what would you do? What if your mother were being accused of murder?”

  “My uncle Giacomo would sneak her out of the country on a fake passport with the olive oil distributor.”

  “Does he do that sort of thing a lot?”

  “We don’t talk about it. But I understand your point. Family first.”

  I wondered how much Uncle Giacomo charged for those services, and if he’d extend to me the family discount.

  Gia put his rag in a bucket of sanitizer and pulled up the stool next to me. “Now, how do you know it wasn’t a robbery gone bad?”

  “For one thing, the victim was lying in bed, presumably asleep when he was hit on the head. And judging from the abundance of mess in the kitchen, the lack of it everywhere else in the house, and the M&M’s that had been scattered all over the floor, I think someone planned to make it look like Aunt Ginny had been there sleepwalking.”

  Gia nodded. “So who is this guy who was killed?”

  “I’m still trying to figure that out. The chamber of commerce gave him the humanitarian award and a grant for his youth program. His secretary seems to think he was the identical twin to Jesus, but his bosses fired him for embezzlement. His ex-wife said he was finally getting his life on track, but one of the parents from the Teen Center said he was a pervert who tried to molest his daughter. So, in short, I have no idea.”

  “Maybe he was all of those things. People are complicated. Even notorious gangsters can be good fathers.”

  “Are you trying to tell me something here?”

  Gia shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

  “I just wish I could figure out a solid motive for murder. That would help narrow down the suspects. But this guy has as many adoring fans as he has enemies. And those kids he mentors have nothing but good things to say about him.”

  “You said he won money for his center?”

  I nodded.

  “Maybe we need to see who else was up for that award.”

  “A disgruntled charity? But why would you kill someone after the fact? It would be too late to get the money for yourself.”

  “Who knows why people do what they do. Greed is a powerful motivator.”

  “How would we find out who else was up for that award?”

  “If you want, I can ask around. I have some connections.”

  I whispered, “Like, mob connections.”

  Gia’s mouth twitched for a second, but he recovered. “I was thinking more about the chamber of commerce, but you’re not far off.”

  “Oh.”

  Our prickly guest was finally finished being disappointed with her tea. She left her takeout cup on the table for someone else to clean up. The bell tinkled her exit.

  I looked at my cell phone to see if I had any make-out time left and was sorely disappointed. “I’m afraid I have to go. I have to drop these cookies off at the Teen Center as a thank-you for some of the kids who talked with me the other night.”

  Gia pulled me close against him. “How would you feel about going to dinner with me this weekend?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Did you ever talk to your friend about us?”

  “Hm?” Talk to who? About what? Gia’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

  Gia couldn’t hide the laughter in his voice. “I believe there is an old boyfriend in your life?”

  Oh crap, that’s right. “Uh … right. Tim. We did talk. In fact, he wants to bring me here for coffee one night. I hope that’s okay.”

  Gia’s eyes danced and he got that mysterious smile back. “Yes, of course that would be okay. I’ll have to hit the gym before I’m sized up by the competition.”

  I could feel his muscles flex under his shirt. I giggled. Competition. “Competition for what?”

  “For your heart, bella.”

  Chapter 25

  I parked under a street lamp. It was just turning dusk and I didn’t know how long I would be. That same freaky vibe I got the last time I was here was back. The boy in the hoodie was watching me again from the edge of the woods. I shivered and quickened my pace.

  I entered the lobby and a stout, matronly woman greeted me. She looked to be in her late fifties, but she had pink hair that was spiked up like Chef Anne Burrell, and funky silver cat-eye glasses she wore attached to a chain. She was wearing a T-shirt with words emblazoned across her ample midsection that said Body by Pizza. “Hey, what can I do for ya?”

  I held up the bag of cookies I’d made at Momma’s earlier. “I brought some cookies for the kids. I met a few of them Tuesday night and I told them I’d be back. My name’s Poppy.” I extended my hand. “I bake for La Dolce Vita.”

  She shook my hand. “Brenda. Dani told me a lady was here asking questions about Brody. Said you want to help find out who killed him. That must be you.”

  “Guilty. Which one is Dani?”

  “Straight black hair, black fingernails.”

  “Oh, Dani’s one of the girls. Okay, Glasses.”

  “You got it. I’m going to need you to sign in before I let you go back.”

  She handed me a clipboard with a list of signatures and times in and out. I signed my name while reading up through the list. Officer Amber had signed in Tuesday afternoon.

  Brenda took the clipboard from me and eyed the bag of cookies. “So, did you find out anything?”

  I opened the bag and held it out to her. “Would you like one?”

  She reached in and pulled out three. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  “Nothing definitive yet. Tell me, were you aware of any problems Brody may have been having with parents?”

  Brenda munched on her cookie and nodded her head. “Jonathan Lynch.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “He came in here one night screaming and cussing. Accused Brody of trying to rape his daughter, Erika. Brody was devastated. He wouldn’t hurt a flea, let alone one of his kids. We lost some sizable private funding because of his accusation. I wanted to fight back, but Brody wouldn’t go along with it. He didn’t want another bad mark against Erika’s reputation. Before I could try to convince him to clear his name, he was gone.”

  “So you don’t think Brody attacked Erika?”

  “There’s no way. He thought the world of these kids. He would never hurt any of them.”

  “I heard he’d been working with Erika to get a scholarship.”

  Brenda finished chewing her last cookie, eyed the bag again, and nodded. “She’s a gifted artist. Brody was working with her to enter some national contests that offer scholarships for art schools.”

  I tipped the bag her way. “Would you like another?”

  “Thank you.” She reached in and pulled out another cookie and examined it. “He loved mentoring these kids. It was his passion. He wanted to give them their best chance at success despite the circumstances that were stacked against them.”

  “What circumstances were stacked against Erika?”

  “Well, I shouldn’t be telling you this.” Brenda looked down the hallway to see if anyone was within earshot. “Erika’s mother killed herself a couple of years ago. Overdosed on Vicodin and Chardonnay. Erika was skipping school and failing most of her classes when the school counselor recommended she get involved with the Teen Center.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  Brenda nodded and her eyes slid to the bag of cookies again.

  “Has Erika been in since the blowup?”

  “No one has seen her. It’s sad. She was doing so well here.”

  “Other than Erika’s father, was there anyone else whom Brody may have been on the outs with?”

  Brenda thought for a minute, then looked at the bag in my hand.

  I held it out to her. “You’ve been
so helpful, why don’t you keep these for yourself. I have another batch in my purse here.”

  “I couldn’t … well … if you insist.” Brenda gingerly took the bag and dove back in for another cookie. “All I’ve had to eat today is a salad and I’m starving.”

  I hear you on that, sister. I smiled.

  Brenda finished her cookie. “Well, I know Brody wanted to reconnect with his daughter, Christina. She pretty much told him she never wanted to see him again after he won the humanitarian award for his work here.”

  “Why would she be so angry?”

  Brenda thought while she chewed. “Brody wasn’t always there for her. He wanted to make up for lost time with his daughter, but sometimes people cut you off and there’s no way back.”

  I thought about Amber and how she’d been holding a grudge against me since high school. If she’d just let it go maybe she wouldn’t be so intent on putting me in jail every time we spoke. “How about the charities? Was anyone put out that Brody received funding that maybe they thought they deserved?”

  “Hmm. I don’t know. They never said anything to us other than congratulations.”

  “Do you know who else was in the running for the award?”

  “I did, but the short-term memory isn’t what it used to be.” Brenda tapped her temple. “Brody handled all that for us anyway.”

  I thanked Brenda and took the second bag of cookies back to the rec room, where the kids were congregating on their cell phones. They remembered me instantly. At least they remembered that I’d promised them food.

  Blond boy jumped out of his seat the moment I walked into the room and put his hand out. “Whacha bring us?”

  “Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, as promised.”

  Glasses, who I now knew as Dani, put her hand in the bag, then pulled it out quickly like she’d been stung. “Wait, do these have gluten in them?”

  “I made sure of it.”

  “Okay.” She put her hand back in the bag and pulled out a cookie and smelled it. Like gluten has a smell.

  Concert-T, whom Glasses told me goes by Jason, didn’t say a word. Came over, took two cookies, gave me a big smile, returned to Ping-Pong. Teenagers.

  Manchester told me his name was Eric, and was the first to ask about the investigation. “Did you find anything?”

  “I’m still working on it. It will take some time, but I think I may have found a couple of suspects.”

  Braids, also known as Keisha, asked, “Oooh, who who?”

  “I can’t say anything yet, but I’m working on it. I want to clear my aunt as badly as you want to find out who killed your friend.”

  “Truth.” Blond boy gave me a peace sign.

  “Is Erika still in school?” I asked.

  Keisha shook her head no. “I haven’t seen her since the incident with her dad.”

  Jason, who was listening while playing Ping-Pong, served and said, “I think she dropped out.”

  Blond boy took another cookie. “I think she’s in the work program.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She goes to work after lunch for school credit.”

  “Is that a thing?”

  The kids all nodded their heads.

  “Do you know where she works?”

  Dani said, “During the day she works in an office answering phones, but at night she works at the funnel-cake stand on the Cape May boardwalk. She’s probably there now.”

  Funnel cake. Why does it have to be funnel cake?

  I thanked the kids and they generously offered to taste-test any cookies or brownies I made in the future before they were offered up for public consumption. To help me with quality control, of course. I told them I would come back with something for them to evaluate for me later. Concert-T Jason gave me a high five.

  I thought of one more thing and stopped by Brenda’s desk on the way out. “Do you know anything about the boy who I keep seeing hovering around the edges of the parking lot?”

  “Tall and skinny, wearing a hoodie?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Brenda sighed. “That would be Emilio. Brody had to kick him out for breaking the rules. He was so disappointed in him. You just can’t help everyone.”

  I said goodbye and Brenda waved a cookie back and gave me a thumbs-up.

  The sun had set, and the streetlights were coming to life, glowing like fireflies. I fast-walked to my car, chiding myself for my fear in a well-lit parking lot, when I heard a stick crack to my left. I jumped. Emilio was watching me from the bushes on the edge of the lot. Why am I afraid? He’s just a kid.

  I tried calling out to him. “Hey! Are you okay?”

  He ran and disappeared into the woods.

  He might be a kid, but his behavior is definitely threatening.

  Chapter 26

  “Poppy! Get up! We need to talk!”

  I looked at the clock on my nightstand. It was 6:32 a.m. What could Georgina possibly want before seven in the morning?

  “Poppy! I need you!”

  I put my pillow over my head, but it didn’t drown out the sound of Georgina banging on my bedroom door. I lifted the corner of my pillowcase and stuck my mouth out. “Georgina! Unless the house is on fire, I’ll be down after I take my shower and get dressed.”

  Georgina yelled through my door again. “Really, Poppy, one would think you had nothing better to do, lying in bed all day like a rich widow.”

  I lay there fantasizing about winning the lottery so I could pay Georgina back her investment money and send her home to her cookie house in the woods. Eventually, I had to get my day started. I wanted to visit Frank Trippett at the garage after twelve, and I had some muffins and cookies to make at Mia Famiglia for the coffee shop.

  I breezed through my morning yoga and cleansing routine, dressed, and went down to the kitchen for some coffee. Figaro scared the bejeezus out of me when I came around the corner in the dark, and a set of orange eyes was looking up at me from down in the kitchen sink.

  “Gah! What the devil are you doing in there?”

  He didn’t see the problem with his behavior. He blinked innocently, jumped out of the sink, and strolled leisurely over to his water bowl.

  Aunt Ginny entered the kitchen wearing a pink sweater and poodle skirt with a white scarf tied around her neck. “Good morning.”

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Like where?”

  “I don’t know. A costume party?”

  “Why in the world would I be going to a costume party at seven thirty in the morning?”

  “I just thought … the sock hop outfit and all.”

  Aunt Ginny shrugged. “Retro is making a comeback.”

  “I don’t know if it’s coming back from quite that far.”

  The doorbell rang as Aunt Ginny was about to make a point that only she would understand.

  “Why don’t I go get that,” I said.

  I opened the front door to find the nurse. “Oh, hi.”

  “Hi. I hope I’m not intruding. I’m Tracy, from Dr. Weingarten’s office.”

  “I remember. Won’t you come in?”

  She blushed. “No, I can’t. I just wanted to bring you this for Mrs. Frankowski.” Tracy handed me a manila envelope.

  “What is it?”

  “The police came to the office and were asking questions. We all feel so bad about what’s happened to Ginny, and we just want to help.”

  “That’s very sweet of you.”

  She pointed to the envelope. “That’s all the research we can find on the drugs she was taking, clinical studies about sleepwalking and court cases where crimes were committed under the influence. I really hope it helps with her defense.”

  “I’m sure it will, thank you. Are you sure you don’t want to come in and give it to her yourself?”

  “I can’t. I have patients waiting for me. Mr. Bressler bought himself a brace for carpal tunnel, and he’s been chomping at the bit to come in and show it off.” She turned and flounced d
own the steps. “But please tell her I said hello, and I’m rooting for her.”

  “I will.” That was sweet. Maybe Aunt Ginny was right about going to her family doctor instead of the emergency room. Of course, I’m not going to tell her that.

  I returned to the kitchen and handed Aunt Ginny the package.

  “Who was at the door?”

  “Nurse Tracy. She brought this for you.”

  Before we could open the envelope and check it out, Smitty stomped around the corner from the mudroom, mad as a hatter. “You won’t believe what she’s done now.”

  I stirred coconut cream into my coffee, then got comfortable at the table. “What’s new?”

  Smitty lifted one foot off the ground, his little bald head all pink with rage. “She filled my work boots with oatmeal!”

  Georgina’s giggle traveled around the corner, giving her presence away.

  I willed myself not to smile, but my resolve broke with the squelch that oozed from Smitty’s foot when he stomped it.

  “It’s not funny!”

  I cleared my throat. “No, of course not. I’m sorry. Georgina!”

  Georgina sidestepped into the kitchen. She was head-to-toe in a winter-white Chanel pantsuit. Her hair was perfectly coiffed in the Jackie O bob. Her makeup meticulous. The only chink in her armor, the judgment in her eyes when she saw me dressed in my black yoga pants and faded Tweety Bird T-shirt.

  “Poppy, you’re finally awake. I wanted to talk with you about my bathroom door. It sticks.”

  “I think you need to clean Smitty’s boots. Smitty, could you please take a look at Georgina’s door for me today?”

  Smitty saluted, then stomped over to Georgina, turned his hat around backwards, slanted his eyes, and stuck his teeth out. “Oh, so you fink you outtasmart me—you just big gnat in soup—go fry away.”

  Georgina turned red and poked him in the chest. “I told you to stop talking to me like that, it’s offensive in ten different ways.”

  Smitty flapped his hands at his sides making hahhhh sounds and backed out of the room, his boots making fart noises as he went. Georgina followed him, poking and demanding he stop acting like a child. I was just glad to leave them to their own devices.