Phone Kitten: A Cozy, Romantic, and Highly Humorous Mystery

by Marika Christian

  Chapter Thirty

  Expecting to be attacked any minute, I was more than a little nervous walking to Le Bel Age. I’d called Craig and asked him to bring his laptop. Craig was way more savvy at financial stuff than I was. I wanted him to check out Damon’s jump drive. I had considered asking Craig to pick me up on his way in, but I told myself that, if I was afraid to walk in public, the bad guy would win.

  I walked along the sidewalk, checking behind me every few steps, and eying cars that drove past, looking for a gun peeking out the window.

  When I got to the Caberet, Craig opened the door and locked it immediately once I was inside.

  “Thanks for doing this, Emmie. I know Dennis would’ve helped, but I just didn’t want to ask him. He does enough around here. Besides…” He flipped open his laptop. “I’m doing a little work on a special project.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m looking into buying this building. The owner told me he’s putting it up for sale and he’ll give me first crack at it. I think the second floor would be great for Dennis to do his training. He won’t have to schlep all over the place training people in their houses. He can have a real professional set-up. There are four apartments on the third floor, so I’d be getting a little income, too.”

  “And this place gets to stay right where it is.”

  “That’s the best part.”

  I followed him to the kitchen, where I was issued a bucket of soapy water, rubber gloves, and a brush. “The stage needs a good scrubbing. Get to it, Cinderella.”

  “Cinderella” was right. I was scrubbing God-knows-what off the stage floor. “What exactly do people do up here to get it so messy?”

  Craig was working hard on the floors. “Mostly they spit out their gum before they perform. At least that’s what the poets do; I’m not sure about the bands. I think a few of them chew.”

  Chew? Was he kidding me? Every band that played here was arty farty, not at all the kind who’d be going for Skoals.

  “So when are you going to tell me what happened? Before you say that nothing happened, I know something did. Did you have a fight with that cute little stripper from class?”

  “Actually, Rick isn’t a stripper. He’s a cop.”

  Craig smiled as he cleaned. “Just because you saw a uniform hanging in the closet doesn’t mean he’s a policeman. That could be his costume.”

  I kept scrubbing. “Trust me on this one; he’s a real cop.”

  “Officer Hottie! That’s even better. You know police officers have access to all sorts of fun things, like hand cuffs and other restraining devices. Good for you, Emmie.”

  “I don’t think we’re seeing each other anymore.”

  I didn’t have to look up to know Craig was staring at me. I could feel his eyes tunneling into my back like lasers.

  “He knows I’m a phone kitten.”

  “He was bound to find out. You were right to tell him. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

  “I didn’t tell him. He found out.”

  Craig sucked in his breath dramatically. “Please don’t tell me he called requiring your services. Oh, honey, that happens. I’m not blaming you, but you did have a little make-out session that left him high and dry. A man has to do something with all that pent-up energy.”

  “That‘s not what happened.”

  Apparently Craig was on a roll. “Wait, he did a call and then denied the charges when he recognized your voice? That’s just cheap.”

  “He didn’t call Peyton. It was worse. The police tracked down all of Jim’s cell phone calls, and from there they found Peyton. He was there when the cops interviewed me.”

  “You were interviewed by the police? Did you call a lawyer?”

  “I’m not a suspect.”

  “Of course you are. If you weren’t a suspect, they’d have asked you questions in your living room. They only drag suspects down to the police station. Don’t you ever watch Law and Order?”

  “I think Rick had them take me down there to throw me off my guard. I was sitting there waiting for the two detectives to come in and start questioning me. He came in and asked me if I wanted something to drink, and he gave me a ride home. We talked and I think we broke up.”

  “Or maybe you didn’t. Why don’t you just call him? He seemed crazy about you.”

  “Then he saw this other guy kissing me.”

  “Other guy? What other guy?”

  “One of my suspects, Damon McCormick. We met at Beethoven’s.”

  “You were at Beethoven’s?” Apparently Rick wasn’t the only one I betrayed.

  “He’s kinda jerky. I don’t think you’d want him to come in here.”

  Craig sniffed. “Jerky money is still green.”

  “What if he kept coming back after I was done with him? I’d never get to hang out here. It was self-preservation, and trust me, he was definitely Beethoven’s material. I think it’s an evil place. It made me do some evil things. I told him Dani had an exploding ass.”

  “So there were exploding asses and kissing? You really should avoid that place.”

  “I wasn’t the one doing the kissing. He kissed me, and then Rick was there. Like right there in front of us, watching the whole thing.”

  “Why? Was he following you?”

  “Yes. Because I had lunch with Sonny Damone.”

  “The gangster?” He smiled slyly and it made me cringe. “Working your wiles on both sides of the law? My, Emmie, you’re quite the little minx.”

  “How did you know he’s a gangster? I’d never heard of him.”

  “I have a thing for bad boys.” Craig shrugged. “Right now, I want to know what happened with the kiss. Did Rick freak out?”

  “We went outside and talked. It was like he was really hurt. I think I really blew it with him.”

  “The road to true love is never easy. You know, Emmie, you could give up the Drewin’ and let the police do whatever they do.”

  “I might be getting somewhere with the Drewin’. When I was at lunch with Sonny Damone, he told me he and Jim were friends. He gave Jim money that night to start over. He didn’t kill him, but no money was discovered on the body. Whoever killed Jim probably took the money.” I rinsed my brush and started scrubbing again. “Jim was fired for embezzling. Only I don’t think he was doing it. I think it was Damon. He was Jim’s personal assistant. He had access to everything. And Brant Jenson? Rachel-Ann told me they didn’t begin their affair until after the whole Kaz thing, but there were some pictures on his boat of Jim with Kaz and Robin.”

  “Who’s Robin?”

  “Wonder Woman.”

  “Oh, the art lover. Robin sounds so side-kicky. I like Diana Prince better.”

  “Yeah, well, Brant knew about the affair. He knew about Robin. I think he knew everything that was going on with Jim. I think he swooped in because he already knew Rachel-Ann was going to be vulnerable. Think about it. He had her right where he wanted her. All he had to do was kill Jim.”

  “Emmie, that’s an awful big ‘all he had to do.’”

  “I found the pictures on his boat. Of course, the boat used to be owned by Damon.”

  “The kisser?”

  I nodded. “You should see this boat, Craig. It was a mess. Seriously, it wasn’t a houseboat at all; it was a trailer boat, and not even a double wide. I can’t believe Damon ever owned anything so tacky. It had that shag carpeting. You know, the green stuff. I looked for bloodstains, but I didn’t find anything.”

  Craig started to laugh. “Wait. You were crawling on the floor of the boat looking for bloodstains?”

  “I think it’s called the deck.”

  He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I may have been cruised, but I’ve never been on a cruise. Especially not on some trashy trailer boat.”

  “It had a monkey on it. Damon is so not a monkey guy.”

  Craig shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe he’s one of those I-came-from-the-gutter-and-clawed-my-way-to-the-top-but-I-don’t-want
-to-forget-where-I-came-from types. Maybe the boat kept him connected to his roots.”

  “No way. He’s the I-clawed-my-way-to-the-top-and-I’m-forgetting-everyone-I-stepped-on type.”

  “That’s probably why he sold the boat. Does Brant seem like a trailer boat kind of guy?”

  “He seems like an I’ll-do-anything-to-be-Jimmy-Buffett kinda guy.”

  “Well, Miss Drew, I don’t have to tell you Jimmy never sang about killing a man, weighing down the body, and throwing the corpse overboard.”

  “He did so! Cuban Crime of Passion.” The circumstances are a little different, like there’s no throwing the body overboard or weighing it down. But the situation is the same—all for the love of a woman.”

  You know, maybe it’s because I’m gay or maybe it’s because I’m from Michigan, but I do not get this whole Jimmy Buffett obsession that you people down here have. Jimmy Buffett doesn’t even live like Jimmy Buffett. Running the Margaritaville Empire has to be hard work. But Dennis belts out the occasional Jimmy Buffett tune. Is it a genetic thing or do they put tiny chips in your little Florida brains when you’re born?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that. Until right then, I’d never really thought of myself as a parrot head. Not that he didn’t seem like a really nice guy, I just felt it was decidedly uncool to parade around wearing a bird hat on my head like some of his fans do. It took a gay man from the Midwest to make me question my love of Buffett.

  I shrugged it off and said, “Maybe it’s not a crime of passion. A crime of passion has to be a spur of the moment thing. Brant acted deliberately. He probably bought the boat to dump the body. Think about it. If there was blood on the boat, it could be explained away. Jim could have gone fishing with Damon or something.”

  “So you think Brant is the killer?”

  “I’ve looked at the guest book a thousand times, and it comes down to him and Damon.”

  “What do you have on Damon?”

  “I don’t know. I was hoping you might be able to tell me.” I pulled the jump drive from my pocket. “I looked at this at home. It looks like a lot of bank stuff I can’t understand. I have a hard time with my checkbook. You’ve got a mind for money.”

  Craig took it out of my hands, not even bothering to ask where I had gotten it. “What makes you say that?”

  “You own your own business. You go to the bank. I’m sure you know more stuff than I do. I don’t even have a credit card.”

  He sat down in front of his laptop and plugged in the jump drive. “I take it you stole this thing, too. I’m doing inventory before we leave.”

  I pulled up a chair next to him. “Unless you have something connected to my crime, I’m not interested. You have to admit it’s a pretty cool piece of clue-age”

  “I love how you’re so proud of your thieving abilities. Were you always into lifting things?” Craig began opening files. “What did you say you thought this guy was doing?”

  “I think he was embezzling. He had access to Jim’s computer. I think he set Jim up.”

  “There aren’t any names here, but someone was transferring a lot of money from one account to another.” He looked up at me. “There were weekly transfers to an offshore account.”

  “Offshore account?”

  “In the Caymans. They’ve made a lot of efforts to clean up their banking. The Caymans had a pretty bad rep for money laundering for the narcotics trade. I don’t know who did what, but this definitely shows where the money is.”

  “Wow. You’re quite the expert.”

  “Thank Miami Vice.” He noticed my sour expression. “Look, they run it on one of those nostalgia channels. It was very ahead of its time. I’m not ashamed of it.”

  I watched Columbo on the same channel. Maybe I had no right to judge?

  “What else does he have there?”

  “Besides porn? Seriously Emily, you have to start kissing higher caliber men. What kind of porn does Rick have?”

  “I didn’t see any porn when I was at his place.”

  “Good. He has sense enough to hide it. That’s a good sign.” He continued to check through files. “Okay, here’s something. It’s nothing big, but it tells us who was using the jump drives, so the documents on here are probably his.”

  I already knew it was Damon’s, but it would be nice to have something to back me up. I doubted anyone was simply going to take my word for it.

  “It’s just a few letters he wrote with his name on them. 'Damon McCormick.' He’s also got a document listing passwords and accounts on it. I’d have to say he was definitely the one embezzling.”

  He pulled out the drive. “I transferred everything onto my computer. The question is, what are you going to do with it?”

  “I’m not much of a detective, am I? I don’t know how to do any of this stuff. It’s just I’m gathering a whole lot of speculation, nothing of substance.”

  “You do have a connection on the police force. Maybe you should talk to Rick.”

  “I’m not so sure he’d help me. Remember? He saw Damon kissing me.”

  “On the lips?” He gave a sigh when I nodded. “How about we pick up Fortunato’s and talk about it over pizza? Extra cheese and pepperoni, and you can eat the pieces with dough bubbles.”

  Dennis must’ve told him that pizza bubbles were one of my many weaknesses.

  When we left Le Bel Age to walk down to Fortunato’s, I got that feeling again, like someone was watching, following us. We should have left earlier. It was at most a ten-minute walk, but it was dark, and my recent experience on the dock served as proof there were plenty of reasons to be afraid of the dark.

  I didn’t pay too much attention to what Craig was saying. It wasn’t that I wanted to ignore him; I just had to concentrate on doing inconspicuous turns to make sure no one was tailing us. I didn’t want Craig to know we might be in danger.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re twisting around like Chubby Checker.”

  I gave up the act. “I thought I heard someone behind us.”

  He stopped and looked back. “I don’t see anything. Maybe all this mystery has you imagining things.” He took my hand and we started back down the sidewalk. “I can taste the pizza now. When we left, I was thinking we should’ve gone with sausage but, the closer we get, I’m thinking we did right to order just plain pepperoni.”

  “Hey guys.” Marty was working the counter on what seemed to be a slow night. We were the only ones in the place. “I added garlic knots and some sauce on the house.”

  Craig pulled out his wallet as I fished for something to put in the tip jar. “I always appreciate a freebie.”

  Carrie had started mopping the front of the store. “Do you mind going out the back?”

  Hell, yes, I minded going out the back. The back was really an alley. An especially dark and scary alley. It led to the back door of Le Bel Age and might’ve even been faster than going out the front and down Central Avenue, but it was nowhere near as safe.

  Before I could say anything, Craig said. “Sure. We’ve been cleaning too.”

  “Craig, it’s kinda dark out there.”

  “Come on, you don’t want to make Carrie start all over again.”

  We went out the back. It was like a horror movie. Our footsteps echoed, and my heart was pounding in my ears, so I was surprised when I heard something behind us. I glanced at Craig, who was saying, “Remind me to give Marty and Carrie a free drink the next time they come in. I love garlic knots.”

  I wanted to say something about the sound behind me, and my mouth opened to do it, but I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around and clobbered my assailant with the bag of garlic knots. I threw the marinara sauce in his face, and then grabbed the pizza, opened the box, and charged with the pizza side up, blinding our attacker with cheese. I took Craig’s hand and started to pull him behind me. “Come on! We have to call the police!”

  My victim’s screams had brought Marty to the door “What’s going on?”


  Craig was wide-eyed. “Emily! What are you doing?”

  I had just assaulted Rasputin with our dinner.

  “I have third-degree cheese burns on my face.” Ras whined as Craig peeled the mozzarella off his face.

  “Ras, I’m really sorry.”

  “Is there pepper in the marinara? My eyes are burning.”

  “It might be the oregano,” Marty said. “Do you guys want another pie?”

  I shook my head. “You scared me.”

  Ras whispered, “I just wanted to tell you, I’ve seen you around a lot lately and you were looking really good.”

  I’d assaulted him with dinner, but honestly I didn’t think all of this was my fault. “Ras, you grabbed me in a dark alley.”

  Craig put down the cloth he was using to wipe Ras’s face. “She has a point. You did sneak up on us. You should’ve announced yourself.”

  “How did I know I was going to be bombed with garlic rolls?”

  “Knots,” Marty said, “garlic knots. And if you sneak up on a woman in an alley and grab her, then you should expect to be hit with something. You got marinara, it could have been mace.”

  Craig patted Ras on the back. “I think you’re going to live.”

  Marty sighed. “If no one wants any pizza, I’d really like to close up.”

  Ras, Craig, and I got up from the table and headed towards the back. Carrie called out and opened the door for us “How about the front door guys? It’s a little safer.”

  Once we were back at Le Bel Age, Craig locked the door and screamed with laughter. “I can’t believe you went all ninja with the pizza! I can’t wait to tell Dennis. Marinara. Garlic knots. Pizza.”

  “It was knots first.”

  “Well, no matter what order it was in, it was awesome. You, girlfriend, know how to inflict some damage. We don’t ever have to worry about your not being to take care of yourself. We just have to send you home with leftovers.”

  I must have looked pretty pathetic because Craig enveloped me in a bear hug and rocked me back and forth. “It’s okay. Ras is fine, and he did deserve it for sneaking up on you. I don’t know what he was expecting. You know, sometimes Ras takes the whole creature-of-the-night thing too far. God knows, I’ve wanted to hit him in the face with a pie a few times.”