by Joyce Tremel
• • •
Jake’s pickup hockey game ended early and he called to see if I wanted to get a late-night snack somewhere. Since his game had been north of the city, I agreed to meet him at the Eat’n Park in Etna, which was just across the 62nd Street Bridge over the Allegheny River. I had a sudden craving for a Smiley Cookie. The large sugar cookie with the frosted smiley face was one of the local chain’s trademarked treats.
Jake’s truck was already in the lot, and I parked beside it. I found him seated in a booth near the salad bar studying the menu. He looked up and smiled when I reached him. As always, his dimple made my stomach do a little flip. I kissed him on the cheek then slid into the seat across from him. “How was the game?”
“Good,” he said. “A few of the regulars couldn’t make it so we had to play three on three. When one of the guys had to leave, we called it a night.”
I grinned. “Couldn’t take it, huh?”
He returned my smile. “That about sums it up. I haven’t had that much continuous ice time for a while. I’m probably going to feel it tomorrow.”
“I doubt that. You skate all the time.”
“True, but it’s a little different in a game. I don’t feel too bad right now, other than I’m starving.”
He ended up ordering a Superburger Combo. I changed my mind about the Smiley Cookie when I looked at the menu. Instead, I got Grilled Stickies à la mode, which was basically grilled cinnamon bread topped with vanilla ice cream and a honey sauce.
After we’d ordered, Jake asked me how the meeting had gone.
“It went pretty well for the most part,” I said. “Once we got Tommy and Elmer to quit trying to one-up each other, that is.”
Jake laughed. “I can imagine how that went.”
“At first, Tommy and Candy didn’t want to involve us in their plans. They wanted to find out where the Deutschmen were playing this weekend and show up there—just the two of them.”
“Felix would recognize them for sure.”
I nodded. “That’s exactly what we told them.”
“So what’s the plan now?”
“Elmer actually came up with it. He’s the only one the band members have never seen. I’m going to call Bruce and find out their schedule. Elmer plans on going and talking to Felix to see if he can find out what he’s up to.”
“I’m not sure I like that plan. What about the rest of us? We can’t just sit around and wait.”
“We’re not going to be waiting around,” I said. “The rest of us can go and keep a low profile. Candy didn’t like it, but we insisted that she and Tommy keep out of sight. I don’t know if she’ll listen, though. You know Candy.”
The waitress brought our order then and there was no more discussion until Jake had finished practically inhaling his meal. I had only eaten half of my dessert by the time he finished, so I passed the remainder across the table to him.
“Are you sure you don’t want this?” he asked.
I told him I’d had enough.
We didn’t continue the discussion until Jake had paid the check and we were in the parking lot.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jake said.
“Uh-oh. I thought I warned you about that,” I teased.
“Very funny, O’Hara.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea if Candy and Tommy go and Felix sees them.”
“But if he’s as dangerous as they say—”
“Hear me out. The goal is to find out why Felix is here and if he killed Doodle, right?”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to just show our hand?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “If he sees Candy and Tommy together, he’ll know he was right that he’d recognized her. He’s not going to make any kind of move in a public place. Even if he tries something, we’ll all be watching and can stop him.”
That was almost the same logic Candy had used earlier. It had been worth considering, but I didn’t like putting Candy in any more danger than she was already in. Jake and I talked about it for a few more minutes, and in the end decided to stick with the original plan the rest of us had worked out earlier. We could break from the plan if Candy got bullheaded and did things her own way.
Before we said good-bye, Jake pulled me close and gave me a kiss that made my toes curl. Between worrying about Candy and thinking about that kiss, I was definitely going to have trouble sleeping tonight.
• • •
The next morning, after I’d checked the fermenters and prepared to brew another batch of IPA, I went to my office and called Bruce Hoffman’s number. When his voice mail picked up, I had a sudden revelation and went back out to the pub to retrieve the newspaper I’d placed on the bar when I came in. I pulled out the second section and turned to the obituaries, wishing I’d thought of it sooner. Doodle’s funeral was in an hour, but I was in luck. His graveside service was right here in Lawrenceville at the Allegheny Cemetery. If I rushed home and quickly changed clothes, I might just make it. I scribbled a note for Jake, who was due in shortly, and headed out.
I had ten minutes to spare when I made it to the Butler Street entrance to the cemetery. The entranceway wasn’t the ordinary gate you’d see at most cemeteries. It was a massive stone gatehouse complete with turrets, and it was larger than some houses. It was appropriate considering Allegheny Cemetery was the final resting place for many local dignitaries such as members of the Mellon and Carnegie families. Composer Stephen Foster and actress Lillian Russell were buried there, as well as several congressmen and the owner of the old Eberhardt and Ober Brewery. There were soldiers buried there from every war dating back to the French and Indian War. One of the most notorious residents was Harry Thaw, who murdered the husband of Evelyn Nesbit, the original Gibson Girl.
Once I passed under the archway, I realized that I had no idea which way to go. The cemetery sat on three hundred acres and had fifteen miles of road. Finding Doodle’s service would be akin to finding a needle in a haystack. It could be an hour or more before I found the right spot if I drove around. The service would be long over by then.
I pulled in front of the administration office and went in. It only took seconds for a woman to point out the location on a map. I was back in my car and on my way in short order. Doodle’s gravesite was at the end of one of the winding side roads. Besides the hearse, there were only four vehicles lined up, and I parked behind the last one—a white cargo van—and got out of my car.
The service had just begun when I silently joined the others. Bruce Hoffman, Manny Levin, and Felix Holt were all there. I had half expected Felix to be a no-show—especially if he had been the one who killed Doodle. Bruce glanced up and gave me a nod to acknowledge my presence. Besides the man speaking at the head of the grave, the only other mourners were two women. They looked like they were related to each other, but one appeared older by a few years. The older woman was dry-eyed, but the younger one kept dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
The brief service was over five minutes later, and I moved around the grave to offer my condolences to the band members. I shook hands with all three while trying to pay close attention to Felix without being obvious about it. “Thanks for coming,” Bruce said.
“Yes, thank you,” Manny said.
“It’s been a terrible loss,” Felix added.
He sounded as if he meant it, but if he’d been as good a spy as Candy and Tommy said, I wouldn’t expect anything less. He’d have to be an excellent actor.
Bruce motioned toward the women. “Have you met Doodle’s sisters?”
For some reason, I had been under the impression that he didn’t have any family. “No, I haven’t.”
“This is Rhonda,” Bruce said, pointing to the older woman. She appeared to be in her fifties, with sandy hair touched with white. She was tall, slender, and immaculately dressed in a navy sh
eath and spectator pumps.
“And this is Paisley.” She couldn’t have been more than thirty and I wondered about the difference in ages. Then again, Doodle had been in his forties—right in the middle of the sisters. Paisley had dark blond hair that had been highlighted with at least three different colors. It was straight and hung halfway down her back. She wore a black maxi skirt with a white sleeveless shell and white sandals.
I shook their hands. “You have my sympathy. I didn’t know your brother well, but he seemed like a good man.”
Rhonda stared me down, apparently sizing me up. “How exactly did you know Walter? You don’t look like any of his previous bimbos.”
Paisley gasped. “How could you say such a thing! Walter’s girlfriends were all nice people.”
Rhonda rolled her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, Paisley. Get a grip. Our dear departed brother chose women like he was choosing a paint color. The flashier the color, the more he liked it.” She turned to me. “It was nice meeting you, but I have to run.”
Speechless, I watched her walk away.
“Please excuse my sister,” Paisley said. “She’s just upset.”
Manny Levin snorted. “Yeah, upset that old Doodle didn’t leave her a dime.”
“That’s not nice,” Paisley said. “Walter loved both of us.”
Bruce patted her on the arm. “We know he did. He talked about you all the time.”
“He did?” She sounded surprised.
“Yes,” Felix said. “He did.”
“He promised to take care of me. And he would have, too. But now we’ll never know what might have been.” Paisley burst into tears.
While Bruce comforted her, Manny and Felix began walking toward their cars. I was torn between staying behind to talk more with Paisley or following them. Felix was the real reason I was here, so I followed. Manny was already in his car when I reached the road, but Felix was taking his time unlocking his car door.
“I’m glad I caught up with you,” I said. “I was going to talk to Bruce, but he’s busy with Doodle’s sister at the moment.”
Felix turned to face me. “What did you want to talk to him about?”
“My Oktoberfest celebration next weekend. If you’re going to cancel, I need to know so I can find other musicians.”
“We will be there. We can manage without the sousaphone. A ridiculous instrument in my opinion.”
I kind of agreed with him on that. “That’s a relief. It would be hard to find a replacement—especially one as good as the Deutschmen.” I figured it wouldn’t hurt to throw in a compliment.
“Thank you, but I’m sure you’d manage.”
I didn’t know what to say next. I couldn’t very well come out and say, Are you here to kill my friend, and oh, by the way, did you kill Doodle? Then I remembered what I wanted to find out. “Are you performing anywhere this weekend? I’d like to bring my boyfriend to hear you.”
“We perform every weekend. We’re very much in demand, especially at this time of year. There’s a fall festival at Hartwood Acres on Saturday and we are the entertainment for the evening. You should come.” He paused. “And bring all your friends. All of them. I would like to see them again.”
A chill went through me as I watched him get in his car and drive away. He hadn’t said anything threatening, but his tone had definitely changed when he said he wanted me to bring my friends. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but it was clear to me that by friends, he really meant Candy.
Which meant that he knew exactly who she was.
CHAPTER TEN
Hops opened one eye when I stopped at home to change clothes again. She wasn’t used to being disturbed twice in the same morning. She yawned and burrowed deeper into the comforter on my bed. I patted her on the head, then slipped back into the old jeans and T-shirt I’d worn earlier since I was planning on brewing today.
The day was warm and sunny so I decided to leave my car at home and walk to the brewery. Besides, it was the lunch hour, and I doubted I’d find a parking place that wasn’t blocks away. I’d been tempted to use Pittsburgh’s version of a reserved parking space—the parking chair—on a couple of occasions, but couldn’t bring myself to chance leaving one of the pub chairs on the street or in the lot. I wasn’t even sure if it was legal, even though people in congested areas did it all the time. It was especially common in the winter to prevent anyone else from parking in the spot the resident had just shoveled out. The funny thing was, Pittsburghers respected the parking chair. I’d never heard of anyone moving one to park.
When I reached my stretch of Butler Street, I noticed some activity across the street from the brew house where three boutiques had been up until four months ago. I was more than happy that two of the buildings had recently found new owners. The empty storefronts had been a daily reminder of Kurt’s murder and all that had happened this past May. One of the new stores was in the process of becoming a tea shop, and the other was a newly opened yarn and fabric store called Simply Stitches. And now it looked as if the third place had a new owner. I crossed the street to see what the new shop might be.
The front door was propped open. Workmen were building shelves on the side walls, and before I could even say hello, my parents’ neighbor, Marcus Crawford, walked out of the back room.
He grinned at me. “Hi, neighbor,” he said.
I returned his greeting and shook his hand. “This is a surprise. Why didn’t you mention this on Sunday at my parents’ house? I would have given you a proper welcome to the neighborhood.” All the talk on Sunday had been about his partner’s art gallery and newest acquisition. He’d never said a word about opening a shop—especially one so close to the brew house.
“I didn’t want to jinx anything. The closing was only on Tuesday, and up until then, I wasn’t sure it was really going to happen. It was hard not to say anything, especially knowing your pub was across the street.”
“What’s your plan for this place?” I asked, wondering what kind of store a former college football player whose most recent job was in banking would be opening.
He reached behind what had been the sales counter in the former This and That. I pushed the thought of the last time I was in this building out of my mind. Marcus lifted a large rectangular sign and placed it on top of the counter. “Does this answer your question?”
I took a step closer to the counter. Good & Healthy. “So it’s a health food store?”
Marcus smiled again. “It’s much more than that. In addition to the usual health food, I’ll have vitamins and other supplements, fitness products, maybe even some seminars on healthy living.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said. “I think it will be a big hit. There’s nothing like it in this neighborhood.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence. It’s a big change for me, but something I’ve always wanted to do.”
“I know what it’s like to follow that dream. It’s not always easy, but it’s very fulfilling.”
Marcus nodded. “It helps that Philip is so supportive,” he said. “I talked about doing something like this for years. I guess he got tired of the talk and finally convinced me to ditch the bank job and do this.” He said he hoped to open up by the end of September or beginning of October. We talked for another minute or two, then I excused myself and headed back across the street.
As usual, Nicole had everything under control. Most of the tables were filled and the delicious aromas filling the air reminded me I hadn’t eaten anything yet today. I headed to the kitchen.
Kevin Bruno looked up as I entered. “Uh-oh. Someone’s hungry again.”
“You bet I am.”
“I hope you’re not looking for that cake, because we ate it,” he said.
“Who ate it?” Jeannie quipped.
“Okay. I confess,” Kevin said. “It was all me. I ate it.”
I laughed. “I won’t fire you for that, but consider yourself warned,” I teased. “As the good sisters used to say when I was in school, this is going on your permanent record.”
Kevin looked aghast. “Really?”
I shook my head. “I’m teasing you, Kev. Although the nuns really did say that.”
“Whew,” he said. “You had me going there for a minute.”
Jake was chopping green peppers and I gave him a quick kiss.
“How did it go this morning?” he asked.
“It was interesting.” I picked up a pepper chunk and took a bite. “Doodle has two sisters.”
“I guess you got to talk to them.”
“Yes, I did.” The pepper was tasty, but it wasn’t enough. “Rhonda and Paisley.” I opened the cupboard where I kept my stash of peanut butter.
Jeannie looked up from where she was assembling a burger platter. “Paisley? What kind of a name is that?”
I opened the jar of peanut butter and reached for a spoon. “It’s different, that’s for sure.”
“Is that really going to be your lunch?” Jake pointed to the peanut butter.
“What’s wrong with peanut butter on a spoon? It’s very nutritious.”
Kevin laughed and Jeannie rolled her eyes.
Jake wiped his hands on a towel. “It’s not enough to eat. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“But I like peanut butter.”
He smiled. “I know you do. But brewers shall not live on peanut butter alone.”
Kevin said, “How about a burger? I have a couple of extras here.”
“If I have to.” Actually, it sounded really good.
Jake quickly assembled a burger with all the fixings on one of his homemade pretzel buns. The lunch orders had slowed down by this time so Jake made one for himself and joined me in the office for lunch. He must have been as hungry as I was because we both wolfed down most of our lunch before we talked more about Doodle’s funeral. “Who else was there?” he asked.
I filled him in on my little talk with Felix. “Nothing he said was threatening in the least. Maybe I’m reading too much into it because of what Candy said about him, but I got the impression he knows exactly who she is and he’d like nothing better than to run into her again. He practically insisted I bring my friends to see them play.”