Group, Photo, Grave (A Kiki Lowenstein Mystery)

by Slan, Joanna Campbell

  “I’m not a baby anymore. I understand how important money is.”

  I turned into downtown U City and headed toward my mother and sister’s house. “I never said you are a baby. It’s abundantly clear you’re growing up. However, I refuse to make an important decision like this based on money. Or more to the point, based on your worries about money. That shouldn’t be a consideration. You told me that you didn’t want to give up your last name. I respect that. I don’t want you to forget your father. Your last name is an important link to him.”

  “I will never forget my father,” she said, as she chugged most of her bottle of water.

  “Of course you won’t. Anya, I am impressed that you would be so unselfish about this. It shows a lot of maturity for you to think about the financial aspects of having a child. But again, it’s not your problem.”

  “Well, it’s a problem for our whole family—and I have been thinking it. And about weddings in general. I think you ought to marry Detweiler, Mom, and I think you should do it before this baby comes.”

  Chapter 30

  The crop would start in an hour, and customers would begin arriving before that. My phone rang as soon as my daughter and I walked through the back door of Time in a Bottle. Before answering it, I asked Anya to take Gracie for a piddle-walk. “Go through the front, please, so Clancy knows we’re here.” And then I hit the button to connect with my caller.

  From the other end of my cell came a strangled sound.

  “Hello? Rebekkah?” I panicked. Was it possible that Horace was in worse shape than we’d suspected? Or was she in need of my help?

  “No. It’s me,” said Sheila, in an uncharacteristic breech of good grammar. “I am so angry I could spit.”

  “Whoa,” I headed for the bathroom where I could close the door and have a modicum of privacy. “What’s happened? Are you all right? Is Robbie okay?”

  “Prescott is making my husband miserable. That little weasel. So much for family loyalty. He isn’t much of a brother-in-law.”

  “Brother-in-law?” I was shocked.

  “Kiki, you can be so stupid sometimes. Of course Prescott is Robbie’s brother-in-law. You knew that.”

  I knew very little about Robbie’s family, picking up bits and pieces here and there. His wife, Nadine had died ten years ago, but how or why I didn’t know. I was aware that she and Robbie had four children, and only one of them lived here in town, Reena Marie. I also knew that Reena wasn’t married, but I didn’t know whether she had ever been. I had never met her in person because she had rejected every invitation Sheila had issued, giving me the distinct impression that she wasn’t happy about her father’s upcoming marriage. Sheila had been uncharacteristically close-mouthed about the tiff between father and daughter.

  I figured that this particular problem wasn’t my business. My plate was already full. My cell phone had been curiously quiet despite the fact that Detweiler had promised to send me a photo of Erik. Where was it? What was the problem? I was definitely sensing something had gone awry.

  “Kiki? Are you listening to me?” Sheila was on a rampage.

  “Of course I am. I just need time to absorb all this,” I said.

  Robbie always struck me as a stoic figure. He didn’t gossip about his employees or his job. At least, if he did, I never heard it. My sense was that his first marriage hadn’t been great, but that he was too loyal to his late wife’s memory to complain about her. Now I wondered: What else had happened to Robbie and his first wife? What had gone on between them, behind closed doors, that played into the situation today?

  Ten years is a long time between spouses. In my book, at least. I couldn’t imagine why Reena’s tail feathers were in a twist. When I had asked Sheila—and I had only indulged my curiosity once—she was uncharacteristically evasive, which I translated to mean, “None of your business.”

  Now she prattled on and on about how Prescott had Robbie over a barrel. How he was simultaneously goofing up the investigation and blaming Robbie for his lack of progress. How Prescott kept running to Mayor White, and complaining that Robbie was blocking his efforts to solve the murder.

  “How do you know all this?” I asked. With Detweiler out of town and Hadcho off the case, Robbie’s connections to the department were severely diminished.

  “Most of the officers are still loyal to Robbie. They’ve kept him informed even though they aren’t supposed to be talking to him. Prescott has threatened them. If he hears they’re in cahoots with Robbie, he’d take drastic measures, whatever that means.”

  Prescott probably knew that officers were talking behind his back. Perhaps that’s what drove him to heap even more blame on Robbie. He might be whining about Robbie as his own twisted sort of damage control. Especially if the investigation wasn’t going well.

  My motherin-law had worked herself into a real tizzy. While I tried to sort fact from fiction, she babbled non-stop. Slowly a storyline emerged. Prescott and Robbie had never gotten along, but their dislike for each other got out-of-hand when Nadine was diagnosed with diabetes. She’d been a two-pack-a-day smoker and a big sweets eater. Robbie begged her to take care of her health, but she hated the idea of limiting her intake of sweets. A weight gain inevitably followed as did numerous trips to the emergency room.

  She grew heavier and heavier. She started to have problems with her feet.

  Robbie wanted her to take her to the Mayo Clinic. She refused that, too. She didn’t want to be far from home. He kept taking her to the doctor, to the emergency room, to support groups, but Nadine seemed to be on a self-destruct mission. She refused to change her eating habits. By the time she died, she was wheelchair bound, after having to have one foot amputated.

  All the while this was happening, Prescott told people Robbie should be taking better care of his wife. Robbie and Nadine’s daughter Reena was the baby of the family. She was also her mother’s favorite. Since she was unmarried and living at home, she was able to spend most of her time caring for her mother.

  “Nadine was angry and bitter. That’s how everyone has described her to me. She hated Robbie’s job with a vengeance. She used to call and check on him constantly, refusing to believe that he was at work.” Sheila hesitated. “I think Nadine enjoyed being sick. The worse she got, the more frantic Robbie became. So she got a lot of attention.”

  “But it backfired.”

  “It sure did. At least that’s what I surmise. Robbie won’t discuss it with me.”

  “Is that why his kids didn’t come to the wedding? I remember something being said about how they couldn’t come because you changed the date, but I take it that there are hard feelings?”

  “Natalie is a licensed nurse,” said Sheila. “She knows her father did everything he could to help his first wife. J. R. believes whatever Natalie says, so he’s never thought Robbie was negligent. James seems to go along with the older kids. But Reena Marie is like her mother. Bitter. Unhappy with her own life.”

  “So she blames Robbie for her mother’s death?”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  I waited.

  Finally Sheila said, “Nadine loved stirring up trouble. I think that’s one reason her older children were eager to move away. They’d had enough of their mother’s drama.”

  “What kind of drama?”

  “Nadine was vicious. It wasn’t enough to stop other people from having a drink of water. No, she had to dump poison in the well. Nadine told her friends not to expect Robbie to grieve for her. She said that when she was dead, Robbie would finally be free to marry the woman he really loved…me.”

  I did a quick calculation. I knew that Sheila and Robbie had been high school sweethearts. Anya was turning thirteen later this month. Sheila’s first husband, Harry, died right after Anya was born. Doing the math, that meant that Nadine was accusing Sheila of carrying on with Robbie after Harry died but while she and Robbie were still married. That didn’t sound like the Sheila I knew, although love and lust in tand
em can make anyone pull stupid stunts.

  “Believe me, I stayed as far away from Robbie as I could after Harry died. I knew how attracted we were to each other. Given that and how lonely I was, I didn’t trust myself. That’s what makes her accusation so horrible. He and I would bump into each other at social events and act like we barely knew each other!”

  “You are thinking that her accusations are behind Prescott’s malice and Reena’s distance?” I asked.

  “Yes, I believe so. The older kids were fine when Robbie first told them we were getting married. But they have a different relationship with their father from Reena. She’s always asking for financial help. She’s never really made a successful life for herself. The older ones have made their own way in life without relying on their dad. J.R. has four kids and another on the way. Natalie and her husband have one and another on the way. James has four kids, two sets of twins. They’re happy for Robbie and me.”

  Right. But they hadn’t shown up at the wedding either. Maybe Sheila had underestimated their displeasure.

  “Oh, Sheila,” I said. “What a mess.”

  Despite her many faults and her rampant narcissism, Sheila put a high value on family. Causing a division within Robbie’s family must have pained her greatly.

  “Marrying me has brought Robbie nothing but grief.”

  Chapter 31

  Sheila’s phone call took a chunk out of my crop preparation time. Clancy stuck her head inside the office door to tell me she’d done her part.

  “The handouts are copied. The name tents are out. The kits are ready.” Handing the class roster to me, she said, “Thirty-two people coming tonight. I’ve checked the supplies, and we’re good. We have enough for the students, plus extras to sell to customers who can’t make it tonight. All are paid in advance except these two.”

  “Thanks for your hard work,” I said. “Have a good evening.”

  She gave me a stiff hug. Since we’d become friends, she’d grown accustomed to my affection and tried to return it, but she would never be wholly comfortable with a physical response. Still, I always appreciated that she was making an effort. “I heard about that doctor’s murder at Sheila’s wedding. It’s all over the radio. Try not to let it bother you too much. You don’t need more stress on your plate.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’m trying my best to stay out of it. That’s why I didn’t mention it to you.”

  I let Clancy out the back door and looked around for Anya. She was taking her sweet time about getting back to the store, but on occasion, Gracie flat out refused to hurry along. Even so, my arms ached to hug my daughter. I was so pleased that she’d changed her mind about when I should marry Detweiler. It meant she was over her worries about being the only Lowenstein. She accepted the fact that she would be part of a family, a family with different origins and names.

  But Sheila’s unhappiness cast a shadow over me, one that I needed to shake before our croppers arrived. I used the toilet, washed my hands slowly, and adjusted my voluminous top before stepping out of the bathroom.

  As a consequence, I nearly collided with Cara Mia Delgatto, who’d come through the backdoor, arms laden with shopping bags full of food.

  “Let me help you.” I relieved her of one bag. “I’d totally forgotten that I asked you to come early so we could talk. I’m sorry, Cara. Things have gotten crazier than usual.”

  “No problem. I heard Prescott talking about the murder investigation on the radio.”

  I grumbled and shook my head.

  “Why do I get the impression he’s happy this happened?” Cara asked.

  “Probably because he is. At least, that’s the way it looks to me.”

  “Your poor motherin-law. How about if we talk over your business questions while I get this ready? The salad and fixings are in that bag,” she said. “The pasta is in here. There’s also garlic bread. You do have a toaster oven, right?”

  We carried the food to the crop area, aka our sales floor. Clancy had rolled the shelving units off to one side to give us more room for tables that she’d set up. A few weeks ago, we’d had casters added to the bottom of all our shelf units. Where the units had been attached to the floor, the old linoleum was missing. But it had gotten very worn and tired looking anyway, so we replaced it with new flooring that looked like tile but wasn’t. The process forced me to close the store over one weekend, but it was worth every penny. Now we could push the shelf units to one side. Moving the shelves doubled our cropping area. I recouped the cost of the flooring and casters in two weeks because we made more money from crops than from any other single activity.

  When the shelf units were clustered more closely together, customers could still wander through the displays, although not if they were pushing baby strollers. I had a hunch that this change would continue to pay dividends because when customers came for crops or classes, they always spent money on consumable supplies. Although Margit hadn’t worked up the figures, I knew our sales total was higher since we could accommodate more scrappers at the crops.

  As I looked over the list of attendees, I realized there was yet another benefit to the enlarged space. We’d been turning people away from our crops. Even though most people were understanding, they weren’t happy about being put on a waiting list. We lost the income from their crop fee and from any sales that would have naturally happened during the crop breaks. More importantly, we also lost goodwill. That was priceless.

  Thanks to the new configuration, we could designate two tables for food. I set down one shopping bag and started toward the backroom for the toaster oven. Since the toaster oven is awkward to carry, I perched it on top of the wheeled picnic cooler full of iced drinks and rolled both to the front of the store. Cara Mia lit several small cans of Sterno to keep the pasta warm. Everything smelled delicious.

  After we set everything up, we headed back to the office. I briefly described to her my dilemma regarding purchasing Time in a Bottle. “I thought I knew what I was doing. Jennifer Moore and I discussed how a business is valued. I knew what Dodie paid for the building and the parking lot because she told me.”

  “But real estate values are never static,” explained Cara. “Especially when the city has made improvements that change traffic patterns.”

  “Right, and I forgot to take that into account.” I stopped. “I feel like I’m being disloyal to the Goldfaders to question the price tag they’ve put on the business.”

  “Disloyal?” Cara raised an eyebrow. “Dodie always encouraged you to think in a businesslike fashion. Besides, what if they’ve seriously undervalued the property? That could be the case, too.”

  “Wow. If that’s true, what will I do?”

  “Cross that bridge when you get to it. Right now, you need good information. As it stands, you’re buying the proverbial pig in a poke.”

  “I’m still clueless, Cara. Chalk it up to pregnancy brain.”

  She laughed. “I remember that! Okay, let me contact a friend who’s a commercial realtor. It won’t cost you anything to have him come and look over the building. I bet he won’t even have to come inside to put together comps.”

  “Comps?”

  “A list of comparable properties and what they’re valued at. By looking over what similar buildings sold for, you’ll have a better idea whether the price you’re paying is fair.”

  “I feel like an idiot. I should have thought of this before.”

  “How many businesses have you bought? How many pieces of commercial real estate do you own?”

  “Uh, none and none.”

  “Exactly,” Cara said. “I wouldn’t know all this except for my father. He made a lot of mistakes in his business career, so I benefited from his hard won education. Now I’m sharing it with you. High-five, girlfriend.”

  The sound of our palms slapping each other sent a happy ring through the store.

  Chapter 32

  When Cara Mia reached into her jeans pocket and withdrew her wallet, I waved her money away.<
br />
  “Heavens, no. Especially after that talk we just had. This class is on us. So are all your supplies. You saved us a bundle with your quick thinking. It’s a pity that people were too distracted by Dr. Hyman’s death to really dig in and enjoy the food. The pasta and that salad would have gone to waste.”

  “I also have a full pan of tiramisu tucked in a cooler sitting outside in Black Beauty.”

  “Black Beauty?” Anya joined us with Gracie in tow.

  “That’s what she calls her black Camry,” I explained. “Cara loves to name things. Her Golden Retriever is Sven because he’s blond and Nordic looking. Isn’t that funny?”

  “He’s getting so old and feeble,” Cara said. “I’m taking him to the vet’s office tomorrow. I don’t like how he’s been coughing and losing weight.” Her eyes avoided mine. She’d had a really tough year, and we were only halfway through. Her mother had died of breast cancer right after the holidays. Then her father had a heart attack and followed her mother to the grave. In a month, her son Tommy would be going off to school in Miami, Florida, and Cara would be alone, rattling around in her house.

  Although she’d worked in the restaurant her entire life, that particular business wasn’t really her passion. She never said as much, but I could tell. After Tommy went off to school, she planned to explore her options. “Time to move into Phase Two of my life,” she’d said. “We’ve got a great manager at the restaurant, so I’m free to move on. I know the place will run without me.”

  “What’s your plan?” I’d asked.

  “I have no idea,” she said. “None. I think I’ll start with a road trip. Maybe I’ll hop in the car and see where I wind up.”

  I would hate to see her go, but I knew she needed to make a change. Lately, she’d become an unofficial member of our team while Laurel took time off. In exchange for coordinating our food offerings, I gave her Cara a monthly “allowance” of scrapbook supplies. Time in a Bottle had become “home away from home” for her, just like it had been for me.