Murder at the Waterfront: A Northwest Cozy Mystery (Northwest Cozy Mystery Series Book 7)

by Dianne Harman

  “Hmm.” Luke thought for a moment. “Do you know where I might find her, or is there anyone else I could speak to who might know where she is?”

  Cassidy stared at Luke. “It’s hard for me to think straight, because I’m so worried about making the rent.”

  Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of bills. He held them up in the air. “Do you think this will cover it?”

  Cassidy made a move to grab the money, but Luke moved his hand away. “I didn’t quite catch what you said there, about where I might find Leslie.”

  Luke wrote down the names Cassidy gave him of a few of Leslie’s friends. “And the bar that she goes to?” he asked.

  “Paulie’s Place.”

  Luke handed Cassidy the money and stood up. He thanked her and let himself out while Cassidy stayed seated, counting the money.

  When he was outside, he called Al and told him about his conversation with Cassidy. “Do you want me to go to Paulie’s Place?” Luke asked him.

  “No,” Al said. “I know that joint, so Ima gonna’ come with ya’. Joe Li’s next on my list, so lemme’ see how that goes first. We might not need to worry about Leslie after all. Why don’tcha see if Rob needs any help, and if not, take the rest of the day off. I’ll see ya’ in the morning.”

  Luke beeped the key fob for his car to unlock it and climbed inside. “Are you sure, Al?”

  “Sure, Ima sure. Now scoot before I change my mind.” The line went dead.

  Luke stared at the phone. On an impulse, he pressed a number and waited while it rang.

  “Hello, this is Briana.”

  “Hey, it’s Luke. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you last night, but it was a tough day at work. I just wondered if maybe you’d like to go for a walk in Lake Sammamish State Park later, and then we can grab dinner somewhere?’

  Briana sounded hesitant. “Dinner? As in a date?”

  “Yes, Briana, a date.” He held his breath.

  “Um, sure, what time?”

  A smile broke out across Luke’s face and he pumped the air with his fist. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

  *****

  “Ya’ done good today, Red, at Joe’s place. I thought he was gonna start cryin’ when ya’ growled at him and flashed yer’ teeth. Ya’ saved me the trouble of takin’ my gun out.” Al stroked Red’s shiny black coat, and Red raised his head to lick Al’s arm.

  “Ugh, ya’ big slobberer.” Al made a face and rubbed his skin with a handkerchief, something he always carried in his pocket and for which he found a variety of uses. As well as wiping up dog slobber and offering it to housekeepers whose employers had just died, he’d always used one in his mobster days for situations when he didn’t want to leave fingerprints. Despite having moved to the right side of the law, some old habits were still ingrained in him. Another was checking under his car every morning for hidden explosive devices.

  They continued their walk along the waterfront, and Al waited while Red stopped at a lamppost. Al’s phone buzzed, and he was pleased to see Jake’s number flashing up on the screen.

  “Yo, Jake. Good to hear from ya’, man. How’s it goin’ back there in Connecticut?”

  He spent the rest of the walk back to the Waterfront Palace talking to Jake and filling him in about the Maureen Knight murder investigation.

  “First good case to really sink my teeth into since ya’ left,” Al chuckled. “Ima lovin’ it. Not that me an’ Cassie don’t wanna see you guys back here, but don’t be rushin’ it, if ya’ know what I mean. I got everything covered, as far as work is concerned.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Jake said. “Because I’m not sure how long we’re going to be gone. We’ve rented a little place in Madison. DeeDee loves the culinary opportunities here and the breezy scenery. It’s like an extended honeymoon. And Balto’s enjoying it too, but of course he misses you.”

  “Aw, you’re jes’ playin’ with me,” Al said, but he was pleased with the compliment. As he approached the outside terrace of the restaurant on the ground floor of the Waterfront Palace, he waved to Cassie, who was sitting under the shaded canopy. “Is DeeDee there? Ima jes’ about to join Cassie, and I know she’d love to speak to her. Oh, an’ tell Balto, Uncle Al an’ Red say hi, will ya?”

  Red growled, and Al looked sternly at him.

  “Here’s Cassie now. Take care, Jake. Talk to ya’ soon.” He walked up to Cassie’s table and handed her the phone. “It’s DeeDee,” he mouthed, removing Red’s leash.

  When Al had gotten Red settled with water and Cassie had finished talking to DeeDee, they ordered dinner.

  “How did it go today?” Cassie asked, over a glass of wine. “You’re looking pretty pleased with yourself.”

  “Ya’ could say that.” Al took a swig of his beer. “Me an’ Red went to see Joe Li. He’s not the murderer, but we had an interestin’ conversation all the same.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He was with his boss, Wu Hsiang. The company he works fer, China Create Group, called a management meetin’ Friday. He spent most of the weekend holed up in a meeting room at The Four Seasons. There’s at least ten people who can vouch for his whereabouts. The outcome of that meetin’ was that his boss, Wu, got fired. Joe’s takin’ his place and movin’ to Vancouver.”

  “What about the note he wrote? Did he have an explanation for that?”

  “He said Wu put him up to it, but I reckon he and Wu were both in on it. Mario was tellin’ me about financial discrepancies in the books for their joint business interests. Mario was closin’ in on them, but they refused to let him buy out their interests, because their shenanigans woulda’ been discovered as part of the due diligence process in the sale.”

  Al paused while the waitress served their meal. “Seems like the powers-that-be at China Create were onto Wu too, and like I said, he got the chop. From what I can gather, Joe has financial difficulties, which points to his involvement at some level. His house at Hunt’s Point has been on the market for almost a year, and he needs money for his divorce. When I put it to him he’d get fired too if Mario proved he was up to his neck in cookin’ the books, he was pretty desperate to make the problem go away.”

  Cassie laughed. “I’m sure you had a solution to that, didn’t you, Al?”

  A wolfish grin spread across Al’s face. “Funny you should say that. Joe’s agreed to sign off on the deal for Mario to buy out China Create from the Waterfront Palace and the other project at the university. It’s a rock bottom price provided Mario doesn’t cause any hassle for Joe.”

  “Wow. Mario will be pleased.”

  “Ya’ better believe it.” Al eagerly dove into his meal of roast pork with plum bourbon sauce and stuffed tomatoes. “Man, I sure get hungry when Ima lookin’ for a murderer. It’s a scientific fact, ya’ know.” He pointed at his plate with his knife. “This is good. You should tell DeeDee about it. Think Ima gonna’ get the pumpkin pie ice cream for dessert after all.”

  “How does that work? Because from where I’m sitting, if you eat all that, you’ll sink the next time you’re in the pool.”

  Al frowned. “It’s true. I read it in a book. Lookin’ for murderers activates the hippopotamus gland.”

  Cassie burst out laughing. “You mean, hypothalamus?”

  “Jeez, Cassie,” Al said, lowering his voice. “I can’t remember the exact name of it, but it’s the same gland that regulates the sex gland. That’s how I remember it, ‘cuz they’re kinda’ alike—sex and looking for murderers, know what I mean?”

  “I’m not sure that I do, but if you say so. What’s next on the investigation agenda?”

  “Me an’ Luke are gonna’ check out a bar where Leslie Ramos hangs out. I know it well, ‘cuz I hired the manager when Vinny owned it a while back. What’s yer’ plans for tomorrow?”

  “I’m meeting Briana for lunch. She had a date tonight, so I want to hear all about it.”

  Cassie’s news about Briana went right by Al. He was too busy t
hinking about dessert.

  CHAPTER 17

  Over bacon, bagels, and coffee for breakfast the next morning, Al called Luke. “Yo. Ima thinkin’ we need to pay the chef a lil’ visit before we go to the bar where Leslie hangs out. When yer’ finished with yer’ run, call me. I’ll pick you up on the way.” He motioned Red away from the table and said, “Sit. If ya’ touch that bacon yer’ in trouble, buster.”

  He heard Luke chuckle. “I’m back already. Got my ten miles in while you were still in dreamland. Ready when you are.”

  “Hmph. Fine. Lemme finish up here an’ I’ll be right there.”

  Al screeched Cassie’s old station wagon to a halt outside Luke’s apartment less than fifteen minutes later. Luke was standing on the sidewalk, smiling as he scrolled through his phone.

  “Yer’ lookin’ chipper this morning,” Al said, when Luke climbed in. He turned around and started back down the street the way he’d come.

  “Al, this is a one-way street,” Luke said, pointing to the sign.

  “So sue me,” Al said with a grunt. “And quit changin’ the subject. What’s got ya’ all bright-eyed n’ bushy tailed today anyway?”

  “I have no idea what you mean.” Luke smiled and leaned his elbow on the edge of the rolled-down window. “It’s a lovely day, that’s all.” His foot was tapping in time to the music on the radio.

  Al turned his head to stare at his passenger. “Huh. So whadda’ya mean? You been mopin’ around fer weeks then yer’ suddenly lookin’ like ya’ won the lottery. Wanna’ tell me why?”

  Luke leaned across and grabbed the steering wheel and turned it sharply. The car narrowly missed hitting an old lady who had stepped off the curb from behind a parked truck. “Keep your eyes on the road, Al. I had a date last night, that’s all.”

  Al kept his eyes straight ahead while he continued driving through the city. “Ha!” he burst out, about five minutes later. “Now I got it. Briana was on a date last night too. You wouldn’t know anythin’ ‘bout that, would ya’?”

  Luke didn’t reply, but Al was sure he could see the twitch of a smile on his lips. For the rest of the drive, they talked about the case. They were interrupted at one point when Rob called Luke to give him an update on the coroner’s report which detailed the time of death and the murder weapon.

  “Here we go. Looks like this is it.” Al swung the car into one of the handicapped parking spaces in the parking lot next to a beautiful condominium overlooking Alki Beach Park in West Seattle. Luke shook his head but said nothing about Al’s latest violation of the vehicle code.

  Chef Chastain’s door was opened by a tall, handsome man with salt and pepper hair and a neat beard. He was wearing dress slacks and a pressed shirt. He had a travel wallet in his hand.

  He greeted Al, dressed in black with mirrored sunglasses, and Luke, in jeans and a casual shirt, with distaste. “Can I help you? he sneered.”

  “I sure hope so,” Al said, pushing past him into the condo without waiting to be invited. Inside, the decor was grand and formal. He walked past a dark wood dresser in the entryway, and into an airy living room decorated with French furniture. Swags and tassels adorned the silky drapes, and the whole place gave Al the impression of being in a mini-palace.

  “Who are you, and where do you think you are going?” the irate chef asked as he followed Al into the living room with Luke bringing up the rear. “This is very inconvenient, as I’m just about ready to leave for a trip.”

  “Al De Duco,” Al said, sitting on the couch, which creaked to accommodate his heavy frame. “And this here’s Luke Robertson. We’ll try not to keep ya’.” He glared stonily at Chef Chastain. “We jes’ came to talk to ya’ ‘bout the murder of Maureen Knight.”

  The anger on the chef’s face turned to confusion. “Maureen is dead? Are you sure about that?”

  “Very sure,” Luke said. He was standing beside the chef. “Are you telling us you hadn’t heard?”

  Gaspard steadied himself by reaching out to hold onto the back of a chair. “No, I—” He bowed his head, and Al raised an eyebrow at Luke.

  “Here,” Luke said. “Let me help you.” He guided the chef into a chair opposite Al, where they both watched him as he buried his face in his hands. When he looked up, his face was ashen.

  Al spoke up, his tone softer than before. “Sorry we shocked ya’ like that. We’re private investigators, hired to find the killer. We’re aware you’d been datin’ Ms. Knight, and mighta’ been jealous about, er, the other male company she’d been keepin’.”

  “Are you saying that I’m a suspect?” Signs of the chef’s arrogance returned.

  “Yep.” Al smiled, and cracked his knuckles. “That’s it in a nutshell.”

  “What the…” The chef started to get up. “I’m calling my lawyer.”

  “As you like,” Al said. “But we’re not police officers, and this is jes a friendly chat, ain’t it Luke?”

  Luke nodded.

  “Course, if ya’ got somethin’ to hide,” Al continued, “then it would make a lotta’ sense to call yer’ lawyer. We can wait.” He leaned back on the couch and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles.

  Gaspard paused, then sat down again. “I’ve got nothing to hide. What is it you want to know?”

  “Why dont’cha jes’ start at the beginnin’. Luke’s gonna’ take some notes while you talk, is that all right?”

  The chef nodded. “I met Maureen when she was in my restaurant, Canlis, with her sister Kitten and Kitten’s husband Mario,” he began. “There was a mutual attraction, and we started seeing each other.” His face lit up as he recounted stories of drives in the countryside, picnics on the beach, and nights of passion. “Maureen was special,” he said, with a faraway look in his eyes. “She was the only person I’ve ever met that I considered settling down with. Which is why…” He hesitated and shook his head. “Never mind.”

  Al changed his position, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “Go on, Chef. It’s important ya’ don’t hold nothin’ back. Chances are, the police are gonna’ be askin’ ya’ the same questions.”

  “That’s why I was angry,” the chef blurted out. “To Maureen, I was just another one of her boy toys to play with and cast to the side when something better came along. I suspected she was cheating on me, and it was confirmed when I saw her leave the party with another man.”

  “Hmm.” Al rubbed his chin. “Ya’ said she was cheatin’. Had ya’ both had a conversation ‘bout whether ya’ were seein’ each other exclusively?”

  “Not exactly, but I mean, come on.” Gaspard raised his voice. “I assumed two adults, who are our age, shouldn’t need to.”

  Al shrugged. “Never assume nothin’, that’s my advice. Ya’ said ya’ was angry when ya’ saw them. What did ya’ do?”

  Gaspard took a deep breath. “I’m ashamed to say I went back to the kitchen and took out most of my anger on the staff. I recognized the man Maureen was with as her ex-husband, from a framed family photo I’d seen in her condo. By the time we’d cleaned up and I was ready to leave, I’d calmed down. I decided the best thing for me to do would be to arrange to speak with him and find out what his intentions were.”

  “And did ya’?”

  Gaspard shook his head. “I called his office Monday morning, but they said he wouldn’t be in for a while.” He made a big deal of looking at his watch. “I’m supposed to be leaving today for France, so if there’s nothing else, gentlemen, I’ll see you out.”

  Al stood up. “What time’s yer flight? Maybe we can help ya’ pack.” There were two doors off the living room, and Al picked the first one. It was the master bedroom, and laid out on the bed were clothes, toiletries, and a black case containing an assortment of guns.

  “Well, look what we got here. This is quite an arsenal, Gaspard, for a chef.” Al circled the bed, surveying the guns. “Mind tellin’ us what these are for?”

  “For goodness sakes. They’re hunting guns. I’ve got permits.
I was in the middle of checking to see that I’ve got the correct paperwork for the one I want to take to Europe when you rudely interrupted me and barged into my home.”

  “Right.” Al made a mental note of the models of the guns in the case. He’d be surprised if any of them were the same type that killed Maureen. “Tell ya’ what. One more question and then we’ll get outta’ yer’ hair.”

  Gaspard sighed. “Fine.”

  “Where were you Friday night and in the early Saturday morning hours? The coroner put the time of the murder between midnight and 2:00 a.m.”

  “I was with the kitchen staff cleaning up, and then I spent some time with Briana Roberts, the party organizer, who settled my account. She walked me down to the parking garage and activated the barrier so I could get out. I left shortly after 2:00 a.m. You can verify it with Briana.”

  “Don’tcha worry, Gaspard, we will.” Al bared his jagged teeth in a crooked smile. “Thanks for yer’ help and have a good trip. Send us a postcard.”

  When they were back outside in the car, Al ran back over some of the details with Luke. “What gun did the coroner say killed Maureen? I thought it was a pistol.”

  “That’s right.” Luke checked his notes. “A 9mm Luger.”

  “Weren’t no Lugers in the case,” Al said. “And we can easily check with Briana what time she let him out. Mario told me the parkin’ garage is locked to outgoin’ traffic other than residents and their guests after 10:00 p.m. as a safety precaution. It’s to prevent some gangbanger from tryin’ to steal a parked car.”

  “How do the residents and guests get out?”

  “They have a swipe card. The concierge issues it.”

  Luke scratched his head. “I’ll call Briana and verify the timings. But if what he said is true…”

  Al nodded. “I know. That leaves us with Leslie Ramos or Mac Jeffrey as the only ones who coulda’ killed Maureen.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Reversing at top speed out of the parking space outside Chef Chastain’s, Al hit a post. “Darn,” he said, putting the car in drive and heading for the exit. “What idiot decided to put that there? Stupid bleedin’ place for a post, if ya’ ask me.”