Murder Is Uncooperative

by Merrilee Robson

  I think both Jeremy and I looked guilty.

  “You know,” Ruth went on, “Les was always so keen on the co-op that he didn't want to acknowledge that there were any problems, but . . .”

  A new group of people came up to her then, wanting to talk to her. I wondered what she had been about to say.

  CHAPTER

  Thirteen

  Jeremy shrugged as we moved away from the group around Ruth.

  “Well, it doesn't sound like the rumors are true,” he said. “She seemed to think the idea was pretty funny. And she had a pretty good idea about what those rumors would be. But we still don't know why Ruth was his emergency contact or why she organized the funeral.”

  “Friend? Co-worker?” I suggested. “It doesn't really matter unless there was something improper going on. And we don't know that there was. It's funny,” I added. “Ruth always seemed a bit stunned when I talked to her in the office. But the funeral seems to be pretty well organized. I guess her mother did a lot of the work.”

  Jeremy was looking around the room. “It looks like people are starting to head out. I think I'm about ready too.” He smiled at me and I felt myself responding in a way I hadn't in a long time. He was seriously good-looking.

  “Hey, listen,” he said. “Do you want to grab a coffee or something?”

  I found that I really wanted to say yes. The idea of sitting down with a cup of coffee with an attractive man was very appealing.

  “Oh, I'd like to. But I drove Mariana and Gwen here. I should see if they're ready to leave.” He didn't suggest that we all go out for coffee. I hoped that meant he was interested in getting to know me and wasn't just interested in hashing out the co-op rumors or talking about plans to replace Les.

  It really had been too long since I had even talked to a man I found attractive. I didn't want Jeremy to think I was brushing him off. Even if all he wanted was a friendly chat, I could use an ally in the co-op.

  “But I'd love to get together with you. For coffee,” I added hastily, hoping it all sounded like one sentence. “Are you free later this week?”

  “I'd like that. I'll give you a call,” he said. “Let's go find Mariana and Gwen.”

  The crowd was thinning out but, there were still quite a few people in the room. I saw Gwen's silver head for a moment and then lost sight of her when someone stepped in front of me. Mariana was short, and it was hard to see her in the crowd. Jeremy and I circled the room and eventually found Gwen, surrounded by a group of other co-op members.

  “Well, I don't seem to be leaving right now after all,” I said to Jeremy. “Looks like I have time for a coffee here.”

  We went to the refreshment table and then found two chairs at the edge of the room. Jeremy grinned at me.

  “Not quite what I had in mind,” he said. “But we are having coffee.”

  I smiled back. “How long have you lived in the co-op?”

  “My son and I moved in two years ago after I got divorced but . . .”

  Just then Gwen moved away from the group she'd been chatting with and headed towards us. I thought her feet might hurt in those high heels but she seemed untroubled by them.

  “I just wanted to check if you thought we should be on our way,” she said. “Have you seen Mariana?”

  I noticed her over by one of the doors. I waved to her, and she walked over towards us.

  “Whew,” she said, pulling over a chair and slipping her shoes off. “It seems like I've been on my feet for hours.”

  “Imagine how poor Ruth must feel,” Gwen agreed. “She's been talking to everyone. She must be exhausted.”

  “I saw you two had a chance to talk to her,” Mariana said, nodding to Jeremy and me.

  I hadn't seen Mariana when we were talking to Ruth but, as I said, she was hard to find in a crowd.

  “I was wondering if you were ready to leave,” I said. Mariana nodded, struggling to put her shoes back onto her swollen feet.

  We were a subdued group as we said goodbye to Ruth and headed back to the co-op.

  Gwen and Mariana both had to stop at the kitchen to pick up the plates they had brought. “I didn't even get a chance to taste the pastries and cookies you brought,” I said. “They were gobbled up right away. They must have been delicious.”

  “I'll bring some over next time I make them,” Mariana said with a sigh. “You know, Les was always very complimentary about my baking. I used to bring things down to the office sometimes. I'll really miss him.”

  Mariana offered the front seat to Gwen this time. “You need the leg room more than I do,” she said, climbing into the back seat of the Toyota.

  I glanced at the platter Gwen was holding on her lap. It was delicate china, with flowers painted around the rim and a cluster of blooms in the center.

  “That looks valuable,” I joked. “I'll have to make sure I drive carefully.”

  “Oh, it's mostly sentimental value,” Gwen said. “It belonged to my grandmother.”

  “Oh, that's so nice that you both inherited china from your grandmothers,” I said.

  I thought Gwen frowned for a moment, but she answered quickly. “Yes, I like to use her things. They remind me of her.”

  I thought about the things I had that had belonged to my mother and how they reminded me of her. I felt the tears gathering in my eyes and quickly changed the subject.

  “Les must have been a real force in the co-op,” I said. “Jeremy was wondering what the board would do to replace him. But I guess today's a day to remember him, not to talk about his replacement.”

  “I don't even want to think about replacing him,” Gwen said, her face wrinkled with sadness. “I don't know what the co-op's going to do.”

  “You know,” I said. “The few times I met Ruth I admit I thought she seemed a bit clueless.” Mariana giggled from the back seat. I glanced at her in the rear-view mirror. “I guess that sounds mean. Anyway, she seemed different today. She did a great job organizing the funeral. Maybe she could take on more responsibility.”

  “Well, it's worth thinking about,” Gwen agreed. “It's something for the board to consider. I admit we've all thought she was a bit clueless too.”

  “At least she seems to be able to find things in that office,” Mariana chimed in. “That's a plus.” She smiled as she said it. Gwen and I returned weak grins. We were both thinking of the office covered with blood. I couldn't imagine Ruth would really want to work there again.

  “We'll have to get someone in to clean the place up,” Gwen said. “We can't expect Ruth to do it. Maybe the police can recommend a company that won't object to cleaning up blood stains.”

  We were silent for the rest of the ride home, lost in our thoughts about the death in our building. I doubted the co-op would ever feel the same.

  I COULD HEAR VOICES as I put the key in the lock of my apartment door. I was surprised to find Sergeant D'Onofrio in the living room talking to my father. He rose when I came in, and I had to look up to talk to him. It was intimidating, but I felt a little jolt of something when I looked at those golden eyes of his. He was powerful, I thought, and not just physically.

  As he looked down at me, I felt a little nervous. I'd always taught Ben that police were there to help us and he should call the police if he was in trouble. I should have felt good this man was trying to find out what had happened to Les. But I was suddenly worried about what he was going to say.

  My father looked equally concerned.

  “Sergeant D'Onofrio has been waiting for you, Becky,” he said. “I told him I didn't think you'd be too long.” As D'Onofrio glanced at my father, he added, “He says he needs to talk to you on your own, but I'll be just down the hall if you want me for anything. Ben's still napping, but he should be up soon.”

  “This shouldn't take long,” D'Onofrio assured me as I looked towards Ben's room. “I just have a few more questions. On the night you found Mr. Walter in the office, did you notice a metal plaque? Did you happen to touch it?”

&nbs
p; I thought back, trying to picture the office on that night.

  “A plaque? No, I don't think so. I was focused on Les, and moving the boxes off him. I don't think I noticed much else in the room.”

  "So you don't remember moving a metal plate out of the way, maybe to help Mr. Walter? About this big?” He held his hands out, slightly less than a foot apart.

  I thought about it. “No, I don't think so. But, as I said, that night was pretty much a blur.”

  He asked me a few more questions about what I had done that night, which I tried to answer.

  “I understand you attended Mr. Walter's funeral today. It seems you appeared very upset during the service. Are you still saying you barely knew him?”

  So the police did have someone at the funeral. I didn't think there had been time for them to have heard that through the co-op grapevine.

  “Yes, that's what I'm saying. Are you still suggesting we had some kind of relationship?” I could feel my voice rising, but I knew he was just doing his job. “Look, to tell you the truth, I lost my mother last year, and funerals are still pretty rough to get through.”

  I thought I saw a look of sympathy on his face. But his next words were sharp.

  “It's always good to tell the truth to a police officer.”

  “It's good to tell the truth to anyone.” He asked me a few more questions before he left. Dad came out of his room as D'Onofrio was leaving, looking worried.

  “How was the funeral, Becky?”

  “About how you would expect a funeral to be. There were quite a few people from the co-op there. Ruth and her mother did a good job. But it was hard, Dad. I kept thinking about Mom.”

  “I think about her all the time, Becky. But, you know, she cared about you more than anything. She'd want us to be happy and for us both to get on with our lives. It's hard but I try to do it for her.”

  I leaned against him, tears in both our eyes. But I knew he was right.

  “You know, Dad, I was wondering. Do you think we should consider moving? I mean, we don't know what happened to Les. Gwen thinks someone might have broken in. Do you think it's dangerous to live here?”

  “Well, Becky. We don't know what happened to the manager. Maybe it was an accident. Or maybe it was something to do with him and what he was doing. We don't really know anything about the man. I can't imagine why anyone would want to kill him, but it could have been something in his past, or his relationships.”

  “But what if it wasn't? What if Gwen's right? What if it was someone who got into the building, trying to steal something? What if we're not safe here?”

  “I don't know, Becky. This seems a pretty safe neighborhood. And the front door's kept locked. It'd be hard to get in, wouldn't it?”

  “But it's not,” I argued. “People prop the door open all the time, if they're bringing groceries in, or they're just taking the garbage out. They're not supposed to do that, but they do.”

  “Then maybe it's time for the co-op to follow the safety procedures they already have. I would think most people would be a bit more cautious now there's been a death in the building. And, you know, it might not have been murder. The police are treating it as a suspicious death, but they don't know quite what happened yet.

  “Besides, it's been so much easier for me living here. It's made a real difference being able to get around on my own. I'm really glad you were able to find this place.”

  “But maybe I could find someplace similar. There are other co-ops around. Maybe we could get into one of them. I think I should see if we can move somewhere else.”

  "No!” I hadn't realized that Ben had woken up and been listening to our conversation. He came running into the living room, tears streaming down his face. “No, I don't want to move again. I like it here. I like having my own room like a big boy. I have friends here. We move too much!”

  He was right. In his short life we had moved from the house I shared with his father to my Dad's townhouse, and now to the co-op. Each move had disrupted his life and changed his routines. And it was true he had made friends in the co-op. There were several little boys his age who he had met in the playground.

  “It's all right, Ben,” I reassured him. “Grandpa and I were just talking.” Looking at my father, I shrugged. “It seems the men in my life have spoken. I guess we're not moving.”

  “I wouldn't worry, Becky,” Dad said. “That D'Onofrio fellow seems like he knows what he's doing. I'm sure he'll figure it out.”

  He winked at me. “And if he doesn't, maybe you can solve the crime. You always were a big fan of Nancy Drew.”

  MUCH LATER, AFTER DINNER and Ben's bedtime, I had a chance to think about the questions D'Onofrio had asked. He was asking about a plaque. I didn't remember seeing anything like that the night Les had died.

  But I did remember seeing something like that on the first day I visited the co-op. There had been a metal plaque celebrating the opening of the co-op. I had tripped over it and then moved it out of the way.

  Was I a suspect? If that piece of metal had been involved in Les's death, were my fingerprints still on it?

  CHAPTER

  Fourteen

  On Monday, I dropped Ben off at his pre-school. Dad was out, so I had the apartment to myself. I settled down at my desk to get some work done.

  But I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking about the questions D'Onofrio had asked about the plaque. I had assumed Les had been killed by the boxes falling on him. Could someone have hit Les with the plaque or some other weapon, and then toppled the boxes to make it look like an accident? Was it murder?

  I would have to follow up with D'Onofrio, now that I'd remembered about the plaque.

  As I picked up the phone to call him, I glanced out the window and saw the homeless woman pushing her cart down the street. I thought it was so sad that she treasured her odds and ends but had given away something that might have some value. I grabbed the pendant from the desk drawer. I had polished it and it looked quite lovely. The angel gleamed on the small oval pendant and the chain was clean. Surely she would want it back when she saw it. I grabbed my keys, slipped on some ballerina flats and headed outside.

  But when I got to the front door, I couldn't see the woman on the street. Had she gone behind the co-op, looking for bottles in the garbage cans or recycling bins? Vancouver has a pretty good recycling program. But some people couldn't be bothered to return their bottles and cans for the small amount they could get for them. Local “binners” made money by retrieving the drink containers from garbage bins around the city.

  I looked up and down the lane but didn't see the woman. The co-op's garbage bin blocked my view a bit, so I walked closer to it.

  A china plate lay next to the bin, still smeared with a few streaks of something. The pretty ivory plate was rimmed in pale blue, with a scattering of flowers in pastels. It was similar to the china I had seen Gwen and Mariana use but the pattern seemed different.

  What wasn't pretty was the very large black rat that scurried away as I came close to the garbage bin.

  I shuddered at the sight of it.

  Had someone been leaving food out for the homeless woman? Or were they feeding feral cats in the neighborhood? I'd even heard of people leaving food out for the raccoons that populated the neighborhood.

  I didn't want to touch the plate if the rat had been eating from it. But I knew it wasn't responsible to just leave it in the lane, attracting more rats and other pests. I pulled a tissue from my pocket and used it to pick the plate up. I considered tossing the plate into the bin. But it was obviously worth something and probably belonged to someone in the co-op.

  As I went back into the building, gingerly holding the plate with the tissue, I heard a sound from the office. I was surprised to see Ruth at her desk, working on her computer.

  “I'm glad to see you're back,” I said. “How are you doing?”

  She looked up at me, her eyes a little unfocused, obviously still thinking about the work she had been doing. />
  “Oh, hi, Rebecca. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure that I was coming back. But I wanted to finish the financial statements. And Gwen assured me she'd had the blood cleaned up.”

  I gulped as I remembered the way the office had looked the last time I had been here. Now it was tidy and clean. There were still lots of loose papers and files, but they were stacked neatly on one of the desks at the back of the room. The other desks were clear. And the large boxes that had lined the wall were gone. There didn't seem to be any signs of the blood that had covered the floor.

  “It looks nice in here. They did a good job,” I said.

  Ruth shrugged. “I guess. I'm not sure I'll ever feel comfortable in here. But I feel like I owe it to Les to try to keep things together, at least until they hire a new manager. He helped me a lot.”

  I was dying to ask for more details about her relationship with Les. She had seemed kind of grumpy every time I was there, and not particularly good at her job. This dedication to helping the co-op didn't seem in character.

  Seeing my face, she laughed. “Oh, yeah, I know this place. Once Gwen told the board Les had listed me as the contact on his personnel file, everyone started speculating about my relationship with him. Like I said at the funeral, I guess most people think I'm his illegitimate child or his mistress. Or both.”

  I smiled. As I had learned from Jeremy, the co-op rumor mill was very active on that topic. I was curious myself, but it didn't seem polite to pry.

  “His wife was good friends with my mom. And we kept in touch after she died. So Les was almost like family. But that doesn't mean there was some kind of sneaky reason Les hired me.

  “Don't they think I'm good at my job?” she asked suddenly. “Is that why everyone seems so suspicious about me and Les?”

  I didn't know what to say. It was what people thought. I had thought that myself.

  "Yeah, I can tell that's what they think,” she went on, seeing the look on my face. “I know I'm not good with people. I couldn't be bothered with all that touchy-feely 'building community' stuff Les did. But I'm good with numbers. Les hired me as coordinator to help fix up the books and get the files in order. And I'm doing that. I've got the books totally straightened out, and I'm working on the filing system. Les knew he wasn't good at that. But he had the people skills. We made a pretty good team.”