“So,” Pete continued, “there are indicators both for and against Shasta and the landlord. Who else is on our list? Min?”
“Min did not do it,” Sadie said quickly, then narrowed her eyes at the teasing grin on Pete’s face. “There wasn’t a hint of dishonesty in what she told me earlier.”
“She lied to her mother about the letter and the boyfriend and she went to Wendy’s apartment behind her parents’ back for months.”
“Those are very different than killing your grandmother. Min seemed very smitten with Wendy and genuinely hurt when Wendy rejected her.”
“A rejection that took place a few weeks before Wendy died. Maybe she was more upset about that then she let on. Maybe she’s taken some theater classes too.”
“Stop playing devil’s advocate about Min; she didn’t do it and you know it.” Sadie knew she was not being objective, but she couldn’t make herself react with anything other than defensiveness.
“A good investigator doesn’t ignore possibilities.” There was a note of seriousness in his tone that Sadie disliked very much.
“Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders and deciding to play along. “So Min, who adores the grandmother she’d never met before last fall and who feels this freeing sense of rebellion against her strict parents by sneaking around to have a relationship with her, broke into the apartment she’d helped clean for months and killed her in the bathtub. Does that seem reasonable?”
“Reasonable is not a mitigating factor when looking for a killer.”
“Okay, but why is Min a better possibility than Shasta, who actually had something to gain by Wendy’s death?”
Pete put up his hands in surrender. “Okay, short of Min being psychotic and killing Wendy out of the rage spurred by Wendy’s rejection, she probably didn’t do it.”
“She didn’t do it,” Sadie clarified.
Pete put down his hands. “What about Ji? Maybe he found out that Min was seeing Wendy and snapped.”
Sadie wanted to be equally defensive of Ji, but Wendy had hurt him so much that she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe knowing Min had met Wendy would push him over the edge. “I think he would have stayed clear of the apartment—and us—if he had killed her,” Sadie said, though she could hear the lack of defensiveness she’d had when she’d advocated for Min. “Surely we would have seen something within his reaction to the apartment, right?”
“Probably,” Pete said. “But when the police learn about Min, they’ll probably question both Ji and his wife with more intensity than they did the first time around. Like Shasta and the landlord, it’s not a perfect fit but it is motive, and they had more reason to leave the body there and then perhaps go back to try to get rid of the evidence when they realized no one was going to find the body on their own.”
“Gosh, I hate thinking that.”
Pete nodded his understanding. “Maybe Rodger did it,” he said, changing the person of interest. “He wouldn’t care that her body wasn’t found for a month, and he saves a lot of money if she’s gone.”
Sadie considered that. “And he didn’t think it was the least bit strange that she just stopped calling after having called him almost daily for months. He just assumed she was feeling better.” She pointed toward her purse lying on the dresser. “Will you get the bank statements out of my purse?” she asked.
Pete complied while Sadie added Rodger to her database. Pete crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. “You want to check to see if the alimony was still paid, right?” he asked.
“It would be too obvious if he didn’t pay it, but I just want to make sure.”
Pete thumbed through the statements and pulled out several papers, handing them to her. Their fingers touched when she took the papers, and she became acutely aware of how close he was. She told herself they’d been close to one another all day. But this was different. They were in a hotel room. On a bed. She cleared her throat. “The alimony came through in June and July.”
“But all that proves is that Rodger’s motive wasn’t saving on alimony right away. It doesn’t change the fact that he’ll be saving a lot of money from here on out. Maybe he had another motivation, like getting her to stop calling.”
Sadie reviewed her conversation with Rodger—had it really been today? “He seemed so realistic about her. He saw her weaknesses and felt compassion for them.”
“You know, if you defend everyone, this won’t do us any good,” Pete said.
“I’m not trying to defend anyone—well, except Min and Ji—but . . . I don’t know. I’m soft toward Ji because I think he loved her, and Min because—”
“You think Ji loved Wendy?” Pete said. “I sure haven’t gotten that impression from him.”
“I think Ji cares about her,” Sadie said, wanting it to be true.
“I agree that he cared about her, but that’s not the same thing as truly loving her.”
Sadie wanted to argue that Wendy was his mother, that Ji had to have some love for her somewhere, but from what she’d learned about Wendy, she realized that might be overly optimistic. Of all the people Sadie had met and talked to, Ji had been the most damaged by Wendy. It was an uncomfortable point to acknowledge, but she allowed her brain to follow it. Ji did have motive—his mother had brought so much misery into his life, and, despite Min’s assurance that her parents knew nothing about her relationship with Wendy, what if they did? She wondered how she could find out. She looked at Pete sitting beside her. “You’re right that I can’t just stick up for people because I don’t want anything to point toward them. But I don’t want Ji or Min to know we suspect them.”
“I agree,” Pete said, nodding.
“So, I’m thinking about how Jason had seen Min and gave a pretty good description of her, but did you ask when he saw her? She said she went back twice after Wendy told her not to, but never got inside the building. If Jason—or anyone else for that matter—did see her inside the building after about the twelfth of May, it would . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t want to say that Min being in the building would prove that she’d lied to Sadie, that she was hiding something.
“We could also ask if anyone ever saw Ji there. Didn’t he tell you he’d never been to her building before he met the landlord there last week to get the keys?”
Sadie nodded.
“So if anyone saw him there prior to the first of this month, it would prove some deception on his part.”
Deception. Such an ugly word. She hated thinking of Min or Ji being deceptive, and yet she felt like the deceiving one by even considering checking up on their stories. “We could talk to the tenants tomorrow,” Sadie said. “Did you talk to anyone today other than Jason about Min?”
“I didn’t,” Pete said, shaking his head. “Also, I know Shasta said she didn’t track the comings and goings of people, but she was at the top of the stairs listening to me talk to Jason, and when I ran into her that first night, she had commented that the other tenant on the second floor worked late on Thursdays and wouldn’t be home until ten. I think she keeps better track than she wants to admit.”
“You better conduct that interview,” Sadie said. “I have a feeling you’ll get better information from Shasta than I will.”
“I don’t know,” Pete said with exaggerated concern. “She seems so distracted by my sexy manliness that my attempt to get information might just dwindle into abject admiration.” He shrugged and made a face that seemed to indicate how powerless he was in regard to the eccentric woman’s attraction to him.
Sadie smiled and leaned into him. “Well, she’s not the only one. It’s a constant battle I face when we’re together.” She kissed him quickly, then turned back to her computer and added “Talk to tenants about Min timeframe and if Ji was ever visiting” on her to-do list for tomorrow. She reviewed the other items on it:
• Check with PD to see if they have ID on Mr. Green Shirt
• Follow up with landlord about renta
l addendum
• Follow up on claims Wendy made against landlord
• Call Jack
Sadie frowned at the last item on that list. She’d told Jack that she’d call him tonight, but it was getting so late. She glanced at the clock on her computer—9:06, which made it 12:06 in Miami. Plus, it was his and Carrie’s first night on vacation. An e-mail would be better.
Pete shifted on the bed so he was leaning against the headboard. It didn’t move him any farther away from her, just somewhat behind her. She sat up a little straighter, suddenly mindful of her posture. Caught off guard by the instant tension—the delicious kind—that was suddenly between them, she clicked over to her list of questions and focused on the next one on her list.
“Who was Wendy sending the letters to?” she asked too loudly. “The only reason I can think of for Min to mail them for her is so that Wendy could stay anonymous. Not using her own return address supports that idea, and so does the unsigned letter I found. As for why she was sending the letters—it sounds like she was trying to convince someone that she was having a relationship with someone they care about, right?”
“Is Rodger involved with someone?” Pete asked. The touch of his fingers on her neck made her shiver, and she froze for a split second as a rush of heat filled her chest. He ran his fingers along the base of her neck, and she broke out in goose bumps, though the heat did not subside.
“H-he didn’t say. But he acknowledged that he was better after they broke up, though it was devastating at the . . . what was I talking about?”
Pete turned his hand and ran his fingers beneath the collar of her shirt.
She took a deep breath, entranced by the feelings his simple touch could trigger.
“You were talking about the possibility of Rodger’s wife or girlfriend being the target of those letters,” Pete prompted her.
“M-maybe.” She didn’t dare look at him, but closed her eyes and let her thoughts move to places she rarely let them go.
Pete reached forward and with one hand closed her laptop and moved it off her lap while he kissed her neck. For an instant, Sadie remembered the ground rules they’d set and the reasons they’d set them. In the next instant, she had no memory of those boundaries and reached a hand to the side of his face as he finally kissed her on the mouth. Delicious lightning shot through her as the kiss deepened. Pete’s arm around her waist pulled her closer, and they lay back on the bed together. She ran her hands over his shoulders, through his hair, down his back.
And then his phone chimed on the other end of the room, pulling the fog from her thoughts. She remembered the rules and the reasons for them and the ghost of his wife that had been haunting them for days. Had the phone already chimed once and we’d ignored it? Sadie wondered as they stared at each other for the space of two quick breaths. Then she worried that the passion they’d just shared would remind him of his wife for a very different reason.
Pete’s smile was like the rush of a wind, clearing out the fear and restoring some of her shaken faith. “I better get that,” he said, then kissed her one last time before rising from the bed and crossing the room.
Sadie smiled at the ceiling, then sat up and straightened her shirt. Her face was warm, and she put a hand on her cheeks. “Who is it?” she asked after several seconds had passed.
He didn’t answer, his back to her, drawing even more of Sadie’s attention.
“Pete?”
“It’s just Stan.” Pete’s voice was flat again, just as it had been when Stan called yesterday, just as it had been after he spoke with Brooke today.
Sadie felt the mood—which had been so nice a minute ago—shift into something different. A new place, too much like some of the other uncomfortable places they’d been on this trip. She waited for more information about the text from the realtor but Pete didn’t supply it. “I thought we had forty-eight hours to consider the offer?”
He didn’t turn toward her. “We do. He was just checking to see if we’d made a decision.”
Sadie counted five full seconds, giving him ample time to turn around and smile and say “Now, where were we?” but he said nothing at all, letting the silence lengthen between them. “Have we made a decision?” she asked. He knew as well as she did that “we” meant “him.”
Pete didn’t answer as he returned the text message, but his mood stayed heavy. She sat on the end of the bed and waited until he turned to face her. When he did, his expression was guarded and her patience was thin.
“You don’t have to accept the offer,” Sadie said, focusing on the business at hand. “We can live in your house and sell mine.”
Pete was shaking his head before she’d finished. “I think that would be just as hard.” His voice was soft enough that she could have pretended not to hear it.
There could be no pretending, however, that the words didn’t cut through her, and the breath she let out was an audible one. Pete swallowed as though having just realized what he’d really said: he doesn’t want me living in Pat’s house.
He took his hands out of his pockets and let them fall to his sides. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Of course you did,” Sadie said, her voice quiet as she placed her hands, palms down, on either side of her as though that would help her stability. “You never say things you don’t mean.” She held his eyes, silently begging him to convince her that she was wrong. Instead, he just looked apologetic and uncomfortable. And then he began walking to the door. He was going to leave it like this?
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Pete,” Sadie said as she stood. “Wait a minute. Let’s talk about this.”
“I can’t.”
Sadie caught up to him a few feet from the door and grabbed his arm. It was the second time today she’d chased after him like this.
He stopped but didn’t turn toward her.
“We have a wedding date in three weeks, Pete. If you’re not ready then tell me now.”
He finally turned toward her enough to meet her eyes. “It’s not that, it’s just . . .”
“Just what?” Sadie pushed when he didn’t finish his thought. She dropped her hand from his arm. “Need more time? Need less me? Need to talk to your kids, a friend, what? It has never been my intention to corner you into something, you know that.”
“Of course I know that,” Pete said. He paused for a few seconds as though searching for the words to say. “I don’t know how to explain it, but this isn’t about . . . you.”
“I know. That’s the problem. If Pat is stronger in your thoughts than I am right now, then you might not be ready to become my husband.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this; the very idea of canceling the wedding made her feel as though she were about to break out in hives. But if he wasn’t ready, the marriage wouldn’t work. She would rather have her heart broken now than see it obliterated after he’d made promises to her that he wasn’t prepared to keep.
Pete looked toward the door of the hotel room and took a breath. He didn’t look at her when he spoke. “Isn’t it hard for you?” he asked. “You had Neil.”
His words were like ice water for the growing rage and spurred insight that wasn’t entirely welcome—there was comfort in anger—but it wasn’t the same. Sadie had had Neil for such a short time, far shorter than the time she’d lived without him. Perhaps because of the short duration of their marriage, or maybe because of the years she’d spent alone since his death, she’d been able to work through his absence in a different way than Pete had after he lost Pat.
“I’ve had twenty-two years to get used to not having Neil,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure I could have remarried so soon after his death for the exact reasons you’re struggling with now. Are you not ready for this?”
He looked back at her. The mask was gone but pain was in its place, showing the battle he was waging, the reluctance and grief and the wish for something different. Was he wishing that Pat were here or simply that he wasn’t feeling this? They s
tared at each other for several seconds, Sadie internally pleading for him to take her in his arms and . . . what? Could he honestly reassure her? Could he say anything that would erase the last few minutes? The last few days?
When the seconds continued to tick by, Sadie backed away from him and waved toward the door. “Good night, Pete,” she said, turning toward the window and looking at the building across the street from her room. For a moment she wondered if he would follow her. He did not.
“I’m sorry, Sadie,” he said quietly. “I’m trying to figure this out.”
She heard the door open. A moment later, the door closed behind him, and Sadie was alone with her heavy heart and darkening fears.
Chapter 25
It was a long night, one of the longest Sadie had had in a while. She did not awake with any inspiration on how to ease the burden of Pete’s struggles and decided to deal with the inevitable awkwardness of the morning by running from it. She wrote a quick note to Pete, explaining where she was going and asking him to follow up on the leads for Mr. Green Shirt and the landlord. It made sense since the police could help him with both of those topics.
She took the elevator to the fifth floor of the hotel and slid the note under Pete’s door a little before 8:00. She could have texted him, but she’d said she’d give him his space and a text would be inviting a response. When he was ready to talk, he would come to her.
For her part, Sadie would focus on talking to the other tenants of Wendy’s building about Min and Ji. What she learned there would likely direct the rest of her day. Sadie hated that she had to check their stories—it felt like a betrayal—so she tried not to think too much about it and hoped that, if nothing else, having plenty to do today would help keep her mind off the events of last night.
Sadie went to the business center of the hotel; the binder in her room had said it had a printer. Min had a Facebook page, and though Sadie couldn’t access all of her photos from the hotel’s computer—privacy settings were a double-edged sword—she was able to print Min’s profile picture. It was a selfie likely taken in Min’s bathroom, but it was a good enough likeness to suit her purposes. Ji wasn’t on Facebook, and it took her several minutes to find a photo of him, finally tracking down a mutual friend of Min’s who had a picture of Ji with some people at a school function. Sadie had to download it onto her laptop, crop it, e-mail it to herself, and then print it from the hotel’s computer—not simple but still doable.
Fortune Cookie (Culinary Mystery) Page 21