She turned her head and gave me a wicked grin. “That is, until now.
I stopped at a florist to get a bouquet for her. I told Grace that her rental agent had asked me to deliver it. That’s all it took to get us into the house.
After we’re inside, you’re on your own.”
Grace whatever-her-name-was lived in a small Cape Cod style house whose rear yard backed up to the Retirement Survival Center. I could actually see the kitchen windows of the Center from the driveway of the rental house. It was a perfect place to keep tabs on someone without that someone knowing about it. I wondered if Davis Rhodes had realized that Grace was living so close to him. Or if he cared.
Maybe that’s one of the things they’d argued about at Maria’s.
All of a sudden, as Nancy cruised to a stop in front of the house, I realized that visiting this mystery woman on the spur of the moment was a very bad idea. What were Nancy and I doing there anyway? Who the heck did I think I was? I didn’t have the faintest idea what to say.
Nancy knows me too well. She could sense I was chickening out.
“Come on, Carol, get out of the car. You have that hesitant look on your face that I absolutely hate. We have to go through with this. She’s probably already looked out the window and seen us in the driveway.”
Nancy got out of the car and slammed her door. “Come on,” she said again. “This was all your idea. Let’s go.”
Reluctantly, I followed Nancy onto the front porch. She rang the doorbell. I heard some footsteps. Rats. No time to back out now.
The woman who answered the door was short and round. Not a glam-our girl, but comfortable-looking. Like everybody’s favorite cousin. Her most striking feature was her beautiful white hair, which framed a face with remarkably few lines. Her eyes were slightly rimmed in red. Had she been crying?
We really were intruding.
Unlike me, Nancy never lets anything stop her when she’s on a mission. She positioned her body in front of mine and flashed Grace a winning smile.
“Hello, Grace. I’m Nancy Green from Dream Homes Realty. We spoke on the phone a little while ago. And this is my friend Carol Andrews. We’ve come to welcome you to Westfield, and deliver this bouquet of flowers to you. May we come in?” She thrust the flowers into Grace’s hands and ever so slightly inched her way into the foyer.
What else could the poor woman do? She had to invite us inside.
“Of course you can come in. Forgive my manners. This is so kind of you. I’m Grace Retuccio. But of course, you know that already.”
She seemed to hesitate for a minute, then made a decision.
“Why don’t you follow me into the kitchen and I’ll put these flowers in water? The place is still pretty unorganized,” Grace said, indicating moving cartons that were scattered around the entryway.
“I’ve had a death in my family, and…” She paused to dab her eyes with a tissue. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know you. And here I am breaking down in front of you.”
Nancy and I both rushed to assure Grace that she had nothing to apologize for.
“In fact,” said Nancy, “we should probably apologize to you. Barging in here like this and disturbing you. We had no idea.” She shot me a look which translated to, “You take it from here.”
I felt guilty about taking advantage of the poor woman’s grief, but she had given us a golden opportunity to ask her some questions about Rhodes.
“Nancy and I are so sorry for your loss,” I said as we sat down at the kitchen table. More than she knew. “Was it someone close to you?”
Grace sipped a little water from a glass Nancy had poured for her.
“It was someone close. But I hadn’t seen him for a while.”
“A dear friend?” I asked. “Or a family member? It’s obviously someone you cared about a great deal.”
“I don’t know how you’d describe our relationship,” said Grace.
“Legally, he was family to me. But friend?” She shook her head. “Not a friend. Not lately anyway. He was my husband.”
I felt guilty that she was being so open with us. Was this what the police called “entrapment”?
I hesitated, and Nancy jumped in with more questions. “You were separated? How sad. I know more women who have gone through separations. It’s such a traumatic thing.” She patted Grace’s hand. “If it will make you feel better to talk about him, Carol and I would be glad to listen. But if you’d rather we left, we’ll do that too. Sometimes, talking to perfect strangers, rather than close family and friends, can be easier at a time like this. At least, that’s what Dr. Phil says.”
Grace jumped at the chance to talk.
“I’ve felt so alone,” she confessed. “I really don’t know anybody here.
Except Dick. Our marriage has been unusual, to say the least. Even though we didn’t see each other on a regular basis, we were in frequent touch via phone or e-mail. We were involved in a joint business venture which was just about to become very successful.”
I nodded at her sympathetically and didn’t say anything. As I’d done with Maria. I was finally learning that silence often gets a person to open up.
“Dick and I were involved in the Retirement Survival Center. The office is on the next street. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
Nancy gave me a sideways look.
“What an amazing coincidence,” I replied. “Yes, I certainly have heard of the Center. In fact, my husband and I went there for retirement counseling recently. We were both very impressed with the services the Center offered. We saw someone named Davis Rhodes, though, not Dick. Your husband mustn’t have been there when we had our consultation.
“I’m sorry, I guess I’m a little confused,” I continued. “I did read in the newspaper that Rhodes died a few days ago.”
Then I put my hand to my mouth in apparent shock. What a bad actress I was.
“Was Davis Rhodes your husband? Oh, my God, I can’t believe it. But who’s Dick?”
Grace nodded her head. “You must have talked to my husband, then.
Dick.”
I felt like I was in the classic Abbott and Costello skit, “Who’s On First?” I was getting more and more confused, no kidding.
“You see,” Grace explained, “Dick’s professional name was Davis Rhodes. We both felt the name Dick Retuccio was too ethnic to appeal to a broad number of clients, so Dick used this other name when he was working. He and I are both lifestyle coaches, and I was the one who developed the whole re-tirement strategy for baby boomers. I guess I should say he was a coach. I just can’t come to grips with the fact that he’s dead.”
She took a paper napkin that was on the table and began shredding it.
The poor woman was becoming even more agitated.
“Wow,” I said out loud. I used more colorful language to myself, but never mind that.
Jim was never going to believe any of this. I wasn’t sure I did. In fact, if Nancy hadn’t been sitting right there in the same room, I’d swear I was imagining the whole conversation.
I started to ask Grace another question, but there was no need. She was on a roll now.
“We had an unconventional marriage, but it worked for us. We led separate lives, on two different coasts, but we were still connected. Part of it was our joint work developing the Retirement Survival Center, of course. We never bothered to get divorced. There was no need to. And we talked on a fairly regular basis.
“Two months ago, things changed. Dick was not nearly as forthcoming about the clients he was seeing as he had been. I think he began to believe that he didn’t need me any more.
“Then he called to tell me he wanted a divorce.”
Grace’s anger was evident by her completely shredded napkin. The grief we had seen earlier was gone.
“I refused, of course,” she said. “I’m sure both of you understand why.
I wasn’t about to be cast aside after all these years. Especially not now, when my concept, that he was taking co
mplete credit for, was finally becoming successful. No way. I even gave him the recipe for those damn chocolate chip cookies! I was the one who told him to do his preliminary client intake in the kitchen to put people at their ease. He never would have thought of any of that by himself.
“So I hopped on a plane and came east to see for myself what was going on. I counsel most of my clients by phone, so I can work from anywhere.”
Grace smiled. This one was not a friendly smile. “Was he ever surprised when I showed up on his doorstep a few weeks ago.”
I didn’t know what to say. And I could tell that, for once, Nancy didn’t either.
“Finding this short-term rental was pure luck.” She looked at Nancy.
“Your office was so helpful. Thank you so much for coming by with the flowers.”
Grace seemed to realize she had told us too much. She stood up, and we followed. It was pretty clear that our little chat was over.
It was also pretty clear that Mrs. Grace Retuccio had a dandy motive for getting rid of her husband.
On the way home, Nancy and I talked of nothing else.
“It’s really classic,” said Nancy. “The aging wife, who’s stood by her man for years, dumped by her Lothario husband when he becomes successful.”
“We don’t know Rhodes was a Lothario,” I pointed out. “Or should I say we don’t know if Dick Retuccio was one? This is all so mixed up. Yesterday, Sheila Carney told Jim that she and Rhodes had come up with the Retirement Survival Center idea together. It looks like she was lying. Or Grace is. God! Grace seems to have at least two of the necessary ingredients for murder—motive and opportunity. I don’t know about the means though.”
“How about this?” Nancy suggested. “Maybe Rhodes had a pre-existing medical condition that made a lethal drug interaction easy? His wife would certainly know about that, right?”
“That’s good,” I said. “Very plausible. So, now that we’ve found out all this, what are we going to do about it? Should I call the police and have them do some checking on Grace and Rhodes and the whole fantastic story she told us? Is my interfering only going to make things worse for Jim? It sure would be easier to talk to Mark alone than with that horrible partner of his.”
I rummaged in the bottomless depths of my purse. “I think I have his card in here somewhere.”
Nancy turned the corner onto my street and immediately slammed on the brakes, throwing me forward toward the windshield.
“Hey, watch it,” I yelled. “Are you trying to get me killed? What’s the matter with you?”
“Carol,” Nancy said, “you’d better decide right now what you’re going to say. There’s a police car parked in front of your house.”
* * *
* * *
Chapter 20
Q: What is the biggest gripe retirees have?
A: There’s not enough time to get everything done.
“Ohmygod! I’m not ready to talk to them yet. What am I going to do?”
“Try telling them the truth,” said Nancy dryly.
“Very funny,” I snapped. “You know what I mean. Can you tell how many people are in the car?”
Nancy craned her neck a little. “I think it’s only one person, but I can’t be positive. Listen, do you want me to come in the house with you?
Maybe it’ll be easier for you to deal with the police if you’re not alone.”
I jumped at Nancy’s offer. “What a pal you are. I won’t be as nervous if you’re there, plus you can hear the questions they ask me. Maybe you’ll have something to add. Or subtract. You have my permission to kick me under the table if you think what I’m saying isn’t helping Jim.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m ready now. Let’s drive up to my house before the police wonder why we’re spending so much time stopped at the corner.”
We pulled partway into the driveway, and I slowly got out of Nancy’s car to unlatch the gate. No reason for me to hurry. Be casual, I told myself.
When I turned around, I was face to face with Mark Anderson. Thank the Good Lord he was alone. And very nervous.
“Hi Mrs. Andrews,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you. I need to talk to you about something important that’s come up about the Davis Rhodes case.” He looked pointedly at Nancy, still seated behind the wheel of her car. “Alone.”
I pretended I didn’t hear him.
“Of course. Mrs. Green and I were about to go into the house for a cup of tea. Why don’t you join us?” I hoped nobody I knew was driving by.
All I needed were neighborhood gossips speculating about why the police were calling on us yet again.
Lucy and Ethel danced joyously against my legs when I opened the kitchen door, gave Mark a sniff and decided he was a friend, then took off for a quick run in the yard.
Establish friendly connections, Carol, so Mark can’t tell Nancy she has to leave.
“Come on in,” I said. “Let’s get that tea you were dying for on the way home, Nancy. I’m sure whatever questions Mark has he can ask in front of you.”
Mark was looking very unhappy at this turn of events, but I ignored him and just kept on babbling. Something I’m very good at.
“You remember Nancy Green, don’t you?” I asked him. “She’s Terry and Peter’s mother. I think they were a few years behind you and Jenny in school.
“Why don’t you both sit down and I’ll put the kettle on?”
“Mrs. Andrews, with all due respect,” Mark said, “this is no tea party.
I have something pretty serious to talk to you about, and I want you to sit down and give me your full attention.” He nodded at Nancy. “You can stay, Mrs. Green, but you both have to understand that what I’m going to say is extremely confidential. I took a real chance coming to see you today, and I could get in big trouble if my boss finds out I was here.
“But I had to give you a chance to explain, Mrs. Andrews. Heck, you always treated me like a member of your family when I was a kid. I know you’re much more comfortable talking to me without my partner.” Mark smiled. “Paul watches too many Law and Order television shows. He tends to get sort of over the top with his questioning.” No argument from me there.
“Now, Mrs. Andrews, I want to know if you can identify this.”
He reached in his uniform pocket and pulled out something in a plastic bag.
I took a good look. It was my missing cell phone. I was thrilled.
“Oh, Mark,” I exclaimed, stretching out my hand to take the phone from him. “I’ve been missing this for days. Thank you so much for finding it for me. But how did you get it? And why is it in that plastic bag?”
Mark looked uncomfortable. “Mrs. Andrews, I didn’t exactly find your cell phone. Someone sent it to me. And I didn’t know it belonged to you until I played the voice mail messages.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I noticed that Nancy began shifting around in her chair. I wondered if she had to use the powder room. Well, if she did, she certainly knew where it was.
Mark cleared his throat and began again. “Mrs. Andrews, your cell phone was sent to me at police headquarters. There was a note attached to it which said, ‘If you want to know who killed Davis Rhodes, check the voice mail messages.’ The note was unsigned.”
Mark looked really miserable now. Nancy looked like she was going to jump out of her chair. I was having trouble keeping up. What was he getting at?
“I listened to the messages. I had no idea it was your phone until I heard Mr. Andrews’s message that he left for you the day Rhodes died.
The one where he says he’s going over to Rhodes’s office to have it out with him. It sounded like a threat, no matter how many times I played it trying to make it sound like something else. Mr. Andrews claims he went to the Center late that afternoon and found Rhodes dead. There are lots of people who won’t believe it was supposed to be an innocent meeting after they hear this phone message. There will have to be an official police investigation about this. Do you u
nderstand?”
He looked at me pleadingly. “Unless you can give me a good reason why there shouldn’t be. I sure hope you can.”
I thought I was going to faint. The whole room started spinning.
Nancy had gotten up to get me a glass of cola, which normally I never drink. I took a large swig of the soda and rolled it around in my mouth, savoring its sweet, sugary taste.
“Mark,” I said. “Come on. You can’t believe that Jim had anything to do with Rhodes’s death. You’ve known us since you were a little boy.
There’s no way he could have done anything like that.
“Sure, he was angry at Rhodes, but not enough to do him any harm.
You must know that’s the truth.”
I then proceeded to tell Mark the whole story. I told him about our first meeting with Rhodes. And Jim’s idea of making him a media star, and the Wake Up New England interview debacle—everything I could remember. I even told him about the chocolate chip cookies. I didn’t mention any suspicions I harbored about Sheila because that’s all they were-suspicions.
Then Nancy interrupted me. “I think it’s time to tell Mark where we were today. And who we met.” She nudged me with her foot.
I looked at her stupidly. Finding my cell phone and its message implicating Jim had knocked everything else out of my head. Then it dawned on me what she was talking about.
“Nancy and I found out some things about Davis Rhodes today that you may not know. I was planning on calling you at police headquarters to tell you as soon as we got home.”
Not an outright lie. Just a slight exaggeration.
“Did you know that Davis Rhodes was not his real name?” Mark looked surprised. Very surprised.
I was encouraged by his reaction, so I continued, “Legally, he was Dick Retuccio. He used Davis Rhodes as his professional name. And, he was married to a woman named Grace. She recently moved into a house in Westfield, which happens to be right around the corner from the Retirement Survival Center.”
Mark had flipped open his notebook by this time and was taking furious notes.
Retirement Can Be Murder Page 14