by Joyce Tremel
I had expected her to say it was because of Bruce, not Doodle.
Paisley continued. “I tried to get Roy to come back but he said not until Rhonda came to her senses. And then there was that terrible accident and he was killed.” She sighed.
Candy and I exchanged looks. “A car accident?” Candy asked.
“Oh, no. Someone broke into his apartment.”
“And killed him?” Candy said.
“He fell down the stairs.”
I wasn’t following this very well. “In his apartment?”
Paisley shook her head. “Outside his apartment. The police said his apartment door was open when Roy got home and he probably surprised the burglar, who probably ran past him and probably bumped into Roy and he fell down the concrete stairs.”
That was a lot of probablies.
“They never caught the person who broke in. Poor Roy.”
“At least Rhonda has Bruce now,” I said. “That has to be some comfort.”
Paisley nodded. “It is. Bruce is nice enough, I guess. And he was a big help to Walter. My brother was an artist, you know.”
Another opening. “Yes. I saw some of his work on his website. The painting he did of you and your sister looked exactly like you two.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I have that one hanging in my house. I should take you to see some of his paintings that are still at Rhonda’s. He had a studio there, but he was beginning to move everything to his house after he finished fixing it up.”
Candy and I looked at each other. We were thinking the same thing but couldn’t very well tell Paisley that we’d been in his house and hadn’t seen any paintings. Our food came then and discussion was temporarily halted. I practically inhaled everything on my plate.
Paisley was much slower, most likely because she talked in between bites. She continued to talk about her brother and how much he loved art and how much he loved playing in his band.
“How did Felix come to join the band?” Candy asked.
Paisley finally pushed her plate aside. “I’m not really sure. Bruce said Felix had been a friend of Roy’s. They needed another accordion player so they hired him.”
I wondered if Felix really had been a friend of Roy’s or if it was a ruse. The more I heard about the whole situation, the more confused I was. None of this answered the question of why Felix was with the band in the first place. If he had come to town because Candy was here, why go through all this pretense? He would’ve had no idea I’d hire the Deutschmen. Six months ago I hadn’t even known they existed. Was it possible he ended up in the same city as Candy by pure coincidence? If so, what else had I been wrong about?
• • •
Back at the brew house, I went into the brewery after the lunch rush to move the Oktoberfest beer from the fermenter to the kegs I’d sterilized earlier. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had it all wrong. If Felix wasn’t here because of Candy, why was he here? How did a foreign former spy end up in Pittsburgh of all places? It wasn’t exactly the hotbed of espionage.
I needed to reconsider what I knew and start over. I thought back to the night that Candy, Daisy, Kristie, and I had gone to the fire hall Oktoberfest party to see the Deutschmen. Felix only thought he might have known Candy from somewhere. He hadn’t been sure. Candy recognized him, though. It must have hit him later who she was.
Then there was the phone call from Doodle. I tried to remember his exact words but couldn’t. Did he even mention Felix? I couldn’t remember for sure. Had I just imagined that part? I’d assumed an awful lot about that phone call. It seemed ridiculous now that I’d thought he wanted to fix Felix up with Candy.
The first keg began to spit beer out of the tubing so I closed it off and connected the tubing to the next barrel. So what had Doodle wanted to tell me? If it had involved Candy, it had to include Felix as well. There was no other explanation. He hadn’t known Candy at all, but I had no way of knowing whether Doodle had somehow found out about their past connection.
Next, I’d found Candy in Doodle’s house when I’d gone to meet him. She’d been trying to find out what he knew. Now that I knew about what had happened between Candy, Tommy, and Felix, I understood her panic at the thought that Felix had been out to get her. The more I learned about Felix, though, the less I thought that was why he was here. He would have made a move on her by now.
My thoughts were interrupted when Jake came through the swinging door. “Our kitchen staff is too efficient and I ran out of things to slice and dice,” he said. “Need some help?”
“Always.” I stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss.
The second keg was filled and Jake rolled it out of the way while I connected the next one. “Did you learn anything new at your breakfast this morning?” he asked.
“Maybe too much. I’ve been going over everything in my head, and nothing is connecting or making any sense.”
“Like what?”
“Like everything.” I sat down on the stairs that led up to the mash tun and told him what Paisley had said that morning. “I’ve been focusing too much on Candy’s situation. I’ve assumed Felix killed Doodle because Felix was supposedly a bad guy. I learned from my dad to never make assumptions, but that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. I lost sight of the facts.”
Jake took care of the next keg. “It’s only natural you’d think about Candy.” He sat beside me on the step. “What else?”
I voiced what I’d been thinking about Felix seeing Candy for the first time and that I felt he only figured out who she was after the fact. Then there was Doodle’s phone call and that he had to have called me for some other reason than fixing Candy up with Felix. And finally, that I didn’t believe Felix was in Pittsburgh because of Candy. “The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it’s a coincidence. If he came here for Candy, he’d have done something by now.”
“He could be biding his time. He has to know Candy told us about him. If something happened to her, he’d be the number one suspect.”
“True.” We both got up to do the next keg. “But I still don’t think that’s why he’s here.”
“That doesn’t rule out Felix killing Doodle, though.”
“No, it doesn’t. Yesterday, Mitch said it might have just been a burglary attempt that went wrong. And considering Paisley saying how Rhonda’s estranged husband died, I’m wondering if they’re connected. A brother and a husband are both killed during break-ins? Seems a little fishy.”
“When did the husband die?” Jake asked.
“Paisley didn’t say, but Felix has been with the group for six months so it would have been before that.”
“Six months is a long gap between the crimes.”
“I know. But let’s say Felix killed Roy Williams for whatever reason. He didn’t find whatever it was he was looking for in Roy’s apartment, so he gets a job with the band by telling Bruce he’s a friend of Roy’s. Felix thinks Doodle has what he’s looking for and he gets wind that Doodle called me. He’s worried that Doodle figured out his connection to Candy and is about to tell me, so he steps up his search for whatever it is he’s looking for. He breaks in to Doodle’s house and searches it. He doesn’t find anything and the next day confronts Doodle in the rehearsal space. Doodle doesn’t have any idea what Felix is talking about, but Felix has given himself away, so he kills Doodle and stuffs his head into his sousaphone.”
Jake laughed. “I can’t believe I actually followed all that. And it sort of made sense.”
I punched his arm.
“Ow!”
“That didn’t hurt, you big baby.” I connected another keg to fill.
“If your theory is true,” Jake said, “what is Felix after?”
“That’s what we need to figure out. And I think I might know where to start.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“So, what’s yo
ur plan, Sherlock?” Jake asked.
“I don’t have one,” I said. “Not exactly anyway.”
“What do you have then?”
“Paisley mentioned that she’d like to show me some of her brother’s paintings at Rhonda’s house. It’s probably the only way I’ll get to talk to Rhonda. I can’t imagine her giving me the time of day otherwise. If that doesn’t work, I’ll talk to Bruce. I can make up some reason I need to talk to him about this coming weekend.”
“That’s all well and good, but what do you hope to accomplish by talking to them? If Felix is searching for something, they’re not going to know about it.”
Jake moved the filled keg out of the way, and I connected the next one. “Maybe not,” I said, “but they might inadvertently say something that gives me some kind of clue.”
“I think that’s a stretch,” he said.
“It’s all I’ve got right now.” We discussed it more while we finished kegging. I was convinced this was the best option at the moment. Jake wasn’t so sure, but he offered to go with me if I made arrangements with Paisley to go to Rhonda’s.
After Jake rolled the last filled barrel into place, he returned to the kitchen and I got started on a brewer’s least favorite job—cleaning up.
• • •
Two hours later, I grabbed a sandwich for my dinner and took it back to my office. After I ate, I found Paisley’s number in my phone and called her. As I expected, she was thrilled to hear from me. It was a full five minutes before I could get a word in. She rambled on about how much she had enjoyed breakfast, and Candy was so nice, and we should do it again soon. I felt sorry for her. She wanted a friend so badly. She was a nice person, but I was sure her constant chattering drove any potential friends away.
When she finally took a breath, I said, “I’d like to take you up on your offer to see some of your brother’s paintings.”
“Oh, wonderful! You will love them so much. I can take you to Rhonda’s now if you’d like.”
I was hoping that’s what she would say. Nicole had come in at four and she was closing tonight so it wouldn’t be a big deal if I left for an hour or two. “Are you sure it’s no trouble? I don’t want to interrupt your dinner.”
Paisley assured me that she had eaten already and Rhonda usually skipped dinner or ate very late. She offered to pick me up, but I convinced her to give me directions instead and I’d meet her there. The house was in Mount Lebanon—an area I wasn’t very familiar with, but that’s what GPS was for. When I hung up, I headed to the kitchen to see if Jake could break away and come along.
Fifteen minutes later we were on our way. Jake offered to drive after I told him where Rhonda’s house was. He was somewhat familiar with Mount Lebanon. When he’d played hockey in high school, some of the games were held at an ice rink there. Forty minutes later, we turned onto the correct street.
The farther we drove up the street, the larger the houses got. Rhonda’s house was the last one at the end of a cul-de-sac. “Wow,” I said. “I had no idea.” Although from the way Rhonda dressed and the car she drove, I probably should have figured her house would be the largest on the block.
Jake steered into the driveway between two stone pillars. The driveway opened up into a large parking area in front of a three-car garage. We pulled up beside an old Volkswagen Beetle. Paisley opened the door and got out. I wasn’t surprised that was her car.
“Welcome to the old homestead,” she said when we joined her.
“Homestead?” I said.
“Yep. I actually grew up in this house, believe it or not. It’s Rhonda’s now. For some unknown reason, my parents put it in her name before they died. Not that I mind. If Rhonda sells it, it still has to be split three ways—” She shook her head. “I guess it’s two ways now. That’s going to take some getting used to. Walter and I lived here for a while after Mom and Dad died, but I bought my own place three years ago. I got tired of Rhonda telling me what to do all the time. Walter got tired of it and moved out, too.”
We followed her to the front door while she talked. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a key ring that had to have at least a dozen keys on it. “I can come and go as I please,” Paisley said as she unlocked the door. “Sometimes I expect Rhonda to change the locks because I’ve interrupted one too many dinner parties, but so far she hasn’t. Here we are.”
The door opened into a two-story-tall foyer with a marble tile floor. The walls were painted an inviting cream color. A cherry hall table stood against one wall, and two wing chairs covered in a bright floral print were situated on the opposite side of the foyer. There was a curving staircase straight ahead that was carpeted in a warm, deep beige color.
“This is beautiful,” I said.
“Rhonda did all this,” Paisley said. “Actually, she paid someone to do it. She didn’t do the work herself. But she did design it and pick everything out.”
“She has good taste,” Jake said.
Paisley shrugged. “I guess so. It’s a little too stuffy for me.”
I tried to imagine what her house looked like. I envisioned an eclectic mishmash of whatever struck her fancy at the moment.
Paisley called her sister’s name, and a few seconds later Rhonda appeared at the top of the stairs. “I told you—” Rhonda stopped when she saw us. “What’s going on?” She didn’t sound happy.
“I brought them to see some of Walter’s paintings,” Paisley said.
“Now? This is not a good time.” Rhonda started down the stairs.
Paisley made a sound of dismissal. “It never is for you. We’ll stay out of your way.”
Rhonda reached the bottom of the steps. “I’m expecting guests in an hour. I told you that earlier.”
The last thing I wanted to do was watch the sisters spar. “Maybe we should do this another time, Paisley,” I said.
Paisley ignored my suggestion. “We’re here now,” she said. “It won’t take long.”
Rhonda grabbed Paisley’s arm. “I said no. Not now.” She turned to Jake and me. “This really is a bad time.”
“We understand,” Jake said.
“I’m sorry if this caused problems for you,” I said to Rhonda.
“I’m used to it,” she said. “If you really want to see Walter’s paintings, why don’t you stop in tomorrow sometime? I’ll be here until noon.”
“They want to see them now,” Paisley said. She sounded like a whiny teenager.
I was beginning to be as annoyed with Paisley as her sister was. “Tomorrow morning would be great,” I said. “Around ten?”
Rhonda said that would be fine. Jake and I said good-bye and hurried out of the house, leaving Paisley pouting beside her sister.
Back in the truck, Jake said, “That was a little weird.”
“And uncomfortable. If I’d have known Paisley was going to pull something like that, I’d have contacted Rhonda myself. I’m surprised Rhonda even offered to show us the paintings. I expected her to throw us out and tell us to never come back.”
He put the truck in gear. “She probably felt bad because her flaky sister dragged us all the way out here.”
“Probably.” I hoped Paisley didn’t make an appearance tomorrow morning. Contrary to what I’d thought up until then, it would be easier to talk to Rhonda without her sister being there.
• • •
The next morning after I did my usual brewery duties, I headed back to Rhonda’s house—solo this time because Jake had to wait for a delivery. When I arrived, I was thankful that Paisley’s VW wasn’t in the driveway. Rhonda must have been waiting for me—she opened the door before I even rang the bell.
“Come in,” she said. She was as impeccably dressed as she’d been every time I’d seen her. Today she wore charcoal slacks and a royal blue blouse. “Would you like some coffee?”
I said I would and f
ollowed her through the foyer and down a hallway to the rear of the house. Her kitchen was exactly what I expected. High-end appliances, granite counters, and white cabinets. She motioned for me to have a seat at the large island in the center of the room. She poured coffee into two mugs and brought them over with a small pitcher of cream and a bowl of sugar.
She sat down beside me. “First, I want to apologize for the way I treated you at Walter’s funeral. I was angry at Walter for dying and at Paisley for . . . being Paisley. And I’m sorry about the fiasco last night. My sister can be challenging at times.”
“I’m sorry I intruded,” I said.
“Paisley intruded. You didn’t know any better.” Rhonda poured a minute amount of cream into her coffee and stirred it. “Enough about my sister. Why did you want to see Walter’s paintings? It’s not like you knew him well. From what Bruce said, you only met them recently and hired them to play at your pub.”
I’d thought long and hard about what to tell her if she asked why I wanted to see the paintings. I considered making up a story about wanting to buy one, but I was a terrible liar. Besides, what if the paintings weren’t anything like what were represented on Doodle’s website and were horrible? The paintings weren’t the reason I wanted to talk to her anyway. I really wanted to know why Doodle had called me and if it had anything to do with Felix. I’d stick as close as possible to the truth without mentioning Felix.
“Your brother called me a couple of days before he died and said he had something to tell me. Ever since then, I’ve been trying to figure out what it was. When I found out he was an artist, I wondered if it had something to do with that somehow.”
“He didn’t tell you why he wanted to see you?”
“Not really.”
Rhonda sipped her coffee. “But he gave you a hint.”
I had hoped Bruce had mentioned some of this to her. It made me wonder why he hadn’t. He knew Doodle had called me. “Nothing that made any sense. He said it was important, though.”
She put her cup down. “Don’t you think it was rather odd that someone who was practically a stranger called you out of the blue like that?”