“None, if that’s all you were doing. You weren’t planning to go off on your own and interrogate a witness, were you?”
I widened my eyes just a tad and let out a short gasp. “Goodness, is that what you thought?”
He looked at me for a long moment, then said, “That’s exactly what I thought—do think. Look, you were helpful the last time—no one’s denying that. Civilian interference in a criminal investigation, though, is a strict no-no. Will might not have minded it, might have bended a few rules to close the case, but I’m not like that.”
“Oh, Will wasn’t happy about it,” I cut in. “Not at all. He told me all the time not to get involved, and he never discussed details of the investigation with me. I butted in strictly on my own.”
“And Will and Captain Connolly and everyone else was darn glad she did,” Leila chimed in. My friend shot Charlie Callahan one of her extra-special dagger looks that she usually reserved for those she felt were especially annoying. “They gave her a citation.”
“So I’ve heard,” he said tightly. “One would think you’d have learned from your last experience, Syd. Confronting a killer is no laughing matter. You were darn lucky the last time.” He leaned over, his arm resting lightly on the back of my chair. “You and your friend here can speculate on what might have happened and who might have done it till the cows come home, just as long as you don’t act on it. Leave the detecting to the trained professionals. Trust me, we’ve got everything under control.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Leila piped up. As Callahan’s gaze swung toward her, she smiled sweetly at him and said, “Leila Addams. I’m a reporter for the Deer Park Herald. Considering your remarks, is it safe to assume that Ulla’s demise has been upgraded from ‘suspicious death’ to an official homicide investigation?”
A red flush started to creep up the side of Charlie’s neck. “You are to assume nothing. We aren’t making an official ruling until the coroner’s report comes in, which should be very shortly. Just understand this, ladies.” He bent over and said in an almost menacing tone, “If I catch either one of you interfering in a police investigation, whether it’s interrogating a witness or anything else, unlike Will, I won’t hesitate to arrest you.” He straightened, and his annoyed expression morphed into a frozen smile. “Enjoy the rest of your dinner.”
“Enjoy it?” I muttered as he strode away. “I’ll be lucky if I don’t throw it up.” I watched as Callahan made his way to a table at the other end of the room, where three other men were seated. I recognized the distinguished, white-haired man in the center immediately—Mayor Bascomb, Charlie’s uncle. The other men were probably town council members. “Nothing like using your connections to get ahead,” I grumbled.
Leila rapped her knuckles sharply on the table. “Want my first impression? I don’t like him. He’s conceited and arrogant, and he’s chauvinistic. You can just tell.”
“I agree,” I said. “He’s a big phony. This afternoon he was all smiles and praise for me. Tonight, he’s telling me to stay out of his investigation ’cause, essentially, lightning doesn’t strike twice.” I let out a soft snort. “And Will thinks he’s likeable—hah!” I stole another glance toward the table. “For all we know, he could be putting Will down to his uncle right now!”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. As for Will’s attitude toward him, well, they do have to work together. Plus, he’s probably just trying to get the right mindset in case this joker does get the lead slot,” Leila remarked. She tapped her finger against the side of her face. “If you want my opinion, I think all that bluster was to cover up the fact he’s scared that maybe if you do get involved, you’ll end up solving Ulla’s murder and make him look bad.”
“You could be right. The best defense is a good offense, right? Well, no doubt he thinks he put the fear of God into us, but all he succeeded in doing was making me more determined than ever to solve this case.” I gave a small shudder. “No way do I want that guy within ten feet of Maggie, let alone getting that lead detective slot.”
Leila raised her glass in a toast. “Atta girl.”
I clinked my glass to hers, thinking I surely had my work cut out for me if I was going to stay one step ahead of Charlie Callahan.
* * *
We finished our dinner and, after some debate, decided to skip dessert and coffee. Charlie Callahan was still enjoying dinner with his friends and uncle when we left, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed that he angled his head just enough to watch us leave, as if he were wondering what our next move was. As we sauntered into the lobby, I saw Lois Galveston emerge from the bar. She was looking at something on her cell phone and didn’t notice us approach until we were practically on top of her. “Hello Lois,” I said. She jumped, startled, then barked out a tinny laugh.
“Why, hello—Syd, right?” She slid her phone back into her jacket pocket. “Sorry. I was a bit preoccupied and didn’t see you. I was looking up some employment possibilities.”
“No luck so far, huh?” I gestured to Leila at my side. “This is my friend, Leila Addams. Leila’s a reporter for the Herald. She hears about job openings all the time.”
“That’s true,” Leila said with a warm smile. “What field are you interested in?”
Lois’s lips curved in a wan smile. “Right now, just about anything.”
“Diane mentioned you used to work in security, right?’ I asked.
“Hmm, yeah, but to be honest that’s not cut in stone. Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind a career change.” She glanced at her watch. “Sorry, I’ve got to get going.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open for you,” Leila said. Lois gave us a wave and departed. Leila decided to hang around the bar for a while; I had an idea that Jim Wantrobski might be joining her later. It would certainly explain the killer red dress and heels. I got in my car and debated stopping at DuBarry’s for a brewski, thinking maybe Will might show up, but in the end I drove straight home. A sleepy-looking Toby met me at the door and wound around my ankles.
“Miss me?” I asked the cat, bending down to give him a scratch behind his ear.
He looked up at me and then over at his empty food bowl. “Merow.”
“At least you’re the type of guy a gal can depend on. Charlie Callahan is an ass. An arrogant, conceited ass. If he thinks he’s intimidated me into giving up, he’s dead wrong. It’s going to give me a great deal of pleasure to help Will beat him out for the head detective slot.”
Toby sat up and waved his paw in the air. “Merow.” I couldn’t tell whether he was agreeing with me or just egging me on to get his food. I chose to believe the former.
I shrugged out of my jacket, tossed it across the counter, and got the sack of dry food out of the bottom cabinet. I filled his bowl up with crunchies, and as he slurped away, I sat back down at the table and pulled out my smartphone. I tapped in “anaphylaxis causes” and hit Enter. A few minutes later, I glanced up to find Toby sitting on his haunches beside my chair, staring hopefully up at me.
“Oh, no,” I said. “I think you’ve had enough crunchies for tonight.” I held up my phone and tapped at the screen. “Did you know that food is considered the most common cause of anaphylaxis, Tobes?” I read aloud from the website I had found: “The most common food triggers include nuts, shellfish, dairy products, egg whites, and sesame seeds. Wasp or bee stings are also common causes. It could also be caused by certain types of medications, or even by exercise, if the activity occurs after eating allergy-provoking food.”
Toby blinked twice. “Merow?”
“I know. There’s not much leeway here. The cause of Ulla’s death is the real mystery, if you ask me. How I’d love to get a gander at that coroner’s report. There’s got to be a way, though, for me to find out that info. I just have to put on my thinking cap.”
With another sympathetic meow, Toby flopped over on his side and closed his eyes. I put my phone away and went to change out of my slacks and top into sweats. I emerged from my bedroom tw
enty minutes later with a large white object tucked under one arm. Toby sat up and regarded me curiously as I set the whiteboard up on the kitchen island.
“Remember this, Toby?” I asked, as I whipped a Magic Marker out from one of the drawers. The whiteboard I’d purloined from my sister had come in handy during the last murder I’d investigated. I drew an oblong box and printed Ulla Townsend’s name inside it, the word “VICTIM” right underneath.
I drew another box off to the left with an arrow linking it to Ulla’s box and printed “Savannah Blade” inside it. Underneath that I wrote: Actual author of Ulla’s new book. Ulla blackmailed her into turning manuscript over to her. Ulla’s death makes path clear for her to claim ownership. Motive?
I drew another box next to that one and added Ken Colgate’s name. Beneath that I wrote: Ulla’s manager. Had CLOSE relationship with her at one time. Now seemed strained. Ulla mentioned their contract was up—did she find out he intended to betray her in some way, either with Savannah or Candy?
I studied what I’d written, tapping the marker against my chin, and added: Wife consulting divorce lawyer. Motive for offing Ulla?
After a slight hesitation, I drew another box underneath Ken’s and printed Cathy Colgate’s name inside. I wrote: Rumored to have had some sort of relationship with Ulla. What? Consulted divorce lawyer—did she plot Ulla’s demise with the thought of having Ken blamed for it?
I drew another box and printed Wendy Sweeting’s name inside. Worked with Ulla at CNC. Filed lawsuit, then retracted it. Why? Right next to that box, I drew another and put Candy Carmichael’s name inside. Rival for Glow cosmetics deal—came to event on her own. Why? Ulla believed she wasn’t above plotting against her—did she team up with someone else to off Ulla?
I stood back and surveyed my handiwork, tapping the Magic Marker against my chin. I knew there was another box I had to add. I drew it and inside printed: Miggs. Person Ulla was desperate to reach. What was that relationship, and could it have been volatile enough to drive Miggs to murder? I hesitated and then added: Is Miggs a nickname for Maggie Shayne? Is Maggie the person from Ulla’s past? What happened between them?
I added one more: Mystery person from past or possibly brother? Who stood to gain the most from her death?
I stepped back from the board and looked at Toby, who’d hopped up on the kitchen counter and was regarding the board with wide eyes. “I know,” I said, scratching at my head, “The motives appear pretty thin, on the surface, but maybe when I start digging deeper, something will hit me. I’ve got to determine who had the best reason for wanting Ulla out of the way. Right now, Savannah’s in the lead, but that could change.”
Toby opened his mouth in a wide, unlovely cat yawn.
“I agree. It’s late. I can figure out where to start tomorrow.” I paused and then wrote across the bottom of the board: What killed Ulla? If an allergy, who would have known what she was allergic to? I knew with a chilling certainty that finding out that piece of information could be the key to unlocking the whole mystery.
I set the marker down and looked around for Toby. I found him in the corner, playing with a scrap of paper. I bent down to retrieve it and saw that it was the scrap of paper I’d rescued from the bar earlier, the one either Candy or Ken must have dropped. It must have fallen out of my jacket pocket, and anything on the floor was fair game for my cat. Toby dug his claw in as if he didn’t want to give it up, but I snatched up a mangled Melvin and dangled it above his head. He released the paper instantly and made a dive for his favorite toy. I fished my cell phone out of my bag and sat back down at the table. First thing I did was check the area code on the scrap of paper; it didn’t look familiar and turned out to be an LA area code. Then I typed in “Terry Finley, Los Angeles, California,” into the search engine. A few minutes later I had my answer. Terry Finley was listed as an entertainment lawyer. I glanced at the clock. California was three hours behind us—it would only be a little after eight out there. I picked up my iPhone and punched in the number. I was fully prepared to leave a message, so it came as a surprise when a real, live male voice answered.
“Terry Finley.”
“Mr. Finley,” I said. I had to think fast. I wasn’t as good as Leila at making up tall tales, but I confess hanging with my bestie the past few months has taught me a thing or two, not to mention all the tips I’ve gotten over the years from watching Murder, She Wrote and CSI. “I’m so glad you’re working late tonight. I’m calling on behalf of Candy Carmichael.”
“Who?”
Oops, try again. “Sorry, I meant to say Ken Colgate.”
“Ken—oh, yes. Savannah’s manager.” I could detect a note of disapproval in his voice. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Ah, Jess. Jess Fletcher,” I murmured, hoping that Terry Finlay wasn’t a big Angela Lansbury fan. “I—ah—I’ve been working with Savannah and Ken Colgate on … that matter.”
“Oh, yes, the book.” Finlay’s voice became more animated. “I’m glad you called. I wondered why I hadn’t heard from them yet. I texted them both that I’ve got a pretty firm offer from Columbia Studios for the movie rights. I just need to know what publishing house the book’s going to land with.”
Pay dirt! “That’s up in the air right now,” I said.
“Oh? I was under the impression the auction had ended Friday? Sorry, I’m a bit out of touch. I had several contracts to finish, so I’ve been holed up here all day. I haven’t even eaten.”
Auction? They auctioned unpublished books off? “It was extended over the weekend.” I said the first thing that came into my head. “Because of his commitment to Ulla Townsend. The charity book signing.”
“Ah, yes. I remember him mentioning he had something going on this weekend, but I didn’t know it was for Ulla. I thought he’d given her his notice.”
So, he had been planning to leave! Notice wasn’t necessary now, but it was apparent Finley hadn’t heard the news. “Ah, not yet.”
“He will this week I’m sure. He’ll need to devote all his energies to Savannah and this book. Trust me, it’s got all the earmarks of a big bestseller. It could be bigger than Fifty Shades.”
Wow, what was in that book? “Yes, they’re very excited.”
“As well they should be.” He coughed lightly. “Have they settled on a title? Last I heard it was between Dealing with a Diva and Diva Behind the Scenes. Personally, I like the former, and Columbia does too. You might mention that to Colgate.”
“I sure will.” I was still trying to wrap my head around the “bigger than Fifty Shades” remark. No wonder Ulla had wanted the manuscript. And now her death made it smooth sailing for both Ken and Savannah to reap the benefits. “You wouldn’t happen to have the exact amount of this movie deal handy, would you? I’m sure Savannah and Ken would be interested.”
“I discussed it with Ken just last week,” Finley responded, clearly puzzled.
“Really? Well, he’s been in rather a tizzy lately. Can’t seem to locate any of his notes, so if you don’t mind telling me, I can pass the info along.”
“Well, okay.” I heard paper riffling, and then Finley said, “Savannah’s initial advance will be one and a half million dollars.”
Whoa! “And Ken gets fifteen percent of that, correct?” Almost a quarter million for him. Nice. And that was just the movie rights. Who knew how much the actual book deal would command?
“I believe his percentage is higher for the movie deal. Twenty-five, if I’m not mistaken.” His tone suddenly turned sharper. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Oops, that’s my other phone. Gotta go.” I rang off. Dammit, I didn’t have a burner cell like Leila, so if he wanted to, Finlay could probably trace that call back to me. I was hoping that maybe that might not occur to him—at least not until he heard about Ulla’s demise. Oh well, maybe my number had come up on his screen like so many did on mine, as “Out of Area.” One could only hope. I started for my bedroom to get some shut-eye, w
hen it hit me like a lightning bolt.
Finley had thought the book auction was Friday. He’d been working on this movie deal for a while, he’d said. He’d also mentioned Savannah as Ken’s client, the author of the book. All of which could only mean one thing: Colgate had to have pitched it to Finley well before today, when Ulla died.
I leaned against the wall. Why would he have done that, particularly if Ulla had intended to claim ownership of the book? Had he and Savannah planned to work out some sort of deal with Ulla? Or did they figure they didn’t need to, because by the time the deal came to fruition, Ulla would already be dead. Suddenly Ken Colgate’s motive for wanting Ulla out of the way didn’t seem so thin after all. Ken and Savannah were now at the top of my list.
I felt something furry wind around my ankles. I reached down and hefted Toby into my arms. “Well, well, despite Charlie Callahan’s warning, it looks like I’ll be doing some investigating tomorrow. What do you say?”
Toby burrowed into my chest and tucked his head underneath my chin. “Merow.”
“I’m glad you agree. Because when push comes to shove, I’d rather Ken or Savannah—or anyone else, really—be guilty of Ulla’s murder than Maggie.”
I started for my bedroom, remembered my jacket that I’d left on the counter, and turned back. As I picked it up, another scrap of paper fluttered out of one of the pockets. Toby reached up and snagged it between his claws.
“Merow.”
I frowned and held out my hand. “Let me see that, Toby.” I said. I didn’t remember having anything in my pocket other than the paper with Finlay’s number on it. Toby backed up, his prize still between his claws, but I found a Melvin underneath the counter and held it up. Distracted at the sight of his favorite toy, Toby let go of the paper and snagged Melvin instead. I picked up the paper and unfolded it, then gasped at what I saw printed crudely there:
Death by a Whisker Page 13