Condo Crazies: Murder At The Albatross

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Condo Crazies: Murder At The Albatross Page 16

by Tina Nicholas


  “No, Detective,” the mock brother and sister said in unison.

  Clancy looked at Latasha. “Nice planning, Detective.”

  “You gonna talk to the judge, Sergeant?”

  “Yeah, I was planning to see how she’s doing.”

  “Would you tell her ’bout all this? We gotta keep her informed. Just think what might a happened if she didn’t know what all is goin’ on in the buildin’.”

  Chapter 66

  “Where are we going with this, Kate?” Tom looked into the depths of his cup as he swirled the coffee around.

  “With what?” Kate busily made notations in her order book. She noticed his plate was empty. “More pound cake?”

  “No, no more pound cake. More us.”

  “Us?”

  “That’s what I said.” He pushed away from the table in Kate’s Kitchen. The morning rush was over. One lone patron was reading a newspaper and eating a cheese Danish in the cheerful setting. “I asked you where are we going with this relationship. We’re dating. That’s it. Dating. We haven’t moved on from that.”

  “Move on to what? We’re great friends. We enjoy our time together. Why change it to something that may not be as good?”

  “I’m willing to take that chance. I want to be more than friends. We’re still on first base, for God’s sake.” Tom’s face flushed. “Don’t you want more than that? I thought you did. I thought you wanted what I want.” He stopped when he saw Kate’s expression.

  “Maybe I don’t,” Kate said. “I’ve just gotten back on my feet, gotten my life together, got a business going, sent Alexis off to college.” She closed the order book with a decisive snap. “It’s been a hard climb to get to this level, Tom. I told you, I don’t jump into relationships easily. I was married for twenty years. Eighteen of those were good ones and then all hell broke loose. My life went down the tubes. I had no control over it, none at all. Now I do, and I like it this way.”

  He stared at nothing over her shoulder. “I can give you security, Kate. You won’t have to work so hard. Our kids like each other. We share the same values. We can make a good life together. Give us a chance to move on. I don’t want to be just friends.”

  She put her hand over Tom’s as he nervously tapped his fingers on the table. “I can’t give you want you want, Tom,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Y’know what I think, Kate?” Tom said loudly. “I think you haven’t really broken away from your marriage. Yeah, you’re divorced. Yeah, you’re working hard to be independent, but in your head, I think you’re still married to that…jerk.” He brought his gaze to her astonished face. “I think that’s why we haven’t been able to move on to more than dinners out and goodnight kisses.” He sat back, his eyes boring into hers.

  “Wow! That’s a mouthful.” Kate’s face had paled but she spoke resolutely. “I’m not in the same place you are, Tom. Not ready for a serious relationship. I don’t know if I’ll ever be, again.” She shook her head. “I don’t think we should date anymore. Clearly, I’m not in a position to give you what you need. But I hope we’ll stay friends.” She smiled tentatively at him.

  Tom rose, abruptly. “I have friends, Kate. I want to love you. To take care of you.”

  “And I don’t want to be taken care of. I like where I am and what I’m doing. Sorry, Tom.” She stood and extended her hand. “Friends anyhow?”

  Tom looked at her hand, shook his head, and walked to the door. He opened it and let himself out.

  ***

  Kate dropped her hand to her side, watching Tom as he walked to his car. Tires squealing, he pulled out of the parking lot.

  She turned and picked up the dishes on the table and walked slowly to the kitchen where Latasha was covering croissants for a breakfast event.

  “Hunh, Carrot Top still can’t control hisself?” Latasha pursed her lips. “I hope you ain’t gonna spend a minute thinkin’ ’bout him. I never trust fools with short fuses. You don’ need this shit, girl. Ain’t you had ‘nuff of him?”

  Kate nodded. “Actually, I’m relieved this happened. I didn’t see him in my future. I didn’t like his temper when I first met him, and it hasn’t gotten much better. He just camouflages it.”

  Latasha squinted her eyes at Kate. “So how come you ain’t lookin’ more happy, hmmm?”

  “Something Tom said…I’m still attached to Stewart.” She sighed. “There are days when I think how good life was when he was…normal. How perfect our family was.”

  “You wanna hear somethin’ that’ll make you feel good about the loser ex-husband, or you wanna get real and get this food over to the Overtons? It’s ten o’clock and we’re gonna need every minute to get there and set up. “

  Kate gave her head a good shake. “You’re right,” she said, rolling the loaded cart to the back door. “Someone once told me crying is about feeling sorry for yourself, and I just won’t do that again. Let’s roll.”

  She shoved the cart over the doorsill and began loading up the van, her thoughts running ahead to the details of the lunch they were catering. But somewhere in the back of her head, Tom’s words were still ringing. Was she still attached to Stewart?

  Chapter 67

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. Tom’s mood had turned to remorse by the time he returned to The Albatross. Great. I’ve screwed it up for good now.

  He locked his car and followed a willowy brunette on her way to the building. Immersed though he was in his thoughts, he noticed her shapely legs and athletic body.

  She reached the lobby door before he did, passed the fob in front of the security system, and held the door for him.

  “Hello,” she said, smiling at him. Her pale blue eyes, outlined by long dark lashes, were magnetic.

  “Hi.” Really cool, Tom. He chided himself and followed her into the elevator.

  She pushed the button for the tenth floor and turned to him. “Floor?”

  Tom came to life. “Eight, thanks. I’m…I’m Tom Delaney. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  The brunette gave a toss of her head to whip her shiny, long black hair away from her face. “Bridey Magillicuddy.” She extended her hand. “Delaney, Magillicuddy. Are there leprechauns around too?” She laughed.

  “Anything’s possible at The Albatross.” The elevator rose, passing the second floor. “Are you new here?”

  “Been here a couple of weeks now. I met your daughter when I first got here—Carly, is it? In the gym one day with her friend, Alexis. Nice girls.”

  “Thanks.” Third floor. Only five more to go. Hurry up, Tom. “Err, are you going to the potluck party downstairs tomorrow?” Fourth floor. Fifth.

  “I am. Will I see you there?” The door slid open.

  A smile lit up Tom’s face. “You will, for sure. I’ll be the one bringing the corned beef and cabbage.”

  Bridey’s laugh was light and merry. “Who said the Irish can’t cook?”

  “I don’t know but whoever it was would be wrong in my case. See you tomorrow,” he said with a wave of his hand as the elevator door slid shut behind him. He walked quickly to his condo, thoughts of Kate’s rejection fading away.

  Chapter 68

  Residents crowded the elevator, aromas from their potluck dinner offerings swirled around the conveyance. Valentina’s spicy mojo chicken, Kate’s bacon quiche, and Clancy’s Irish stew were mouth-watering. The door slid open to admit Chester bearing a crockpot of barbequed franks and beans.

  “Smells good, Chester.” Devin shifted a box of wine bottles from one hip to the other.

  “Good ol’ American food,” Chester boasted. “Ain’t nothin’ like it.” He turned to face the doors just as they opened at the next floor. Phoebe stood waiting with Oliver in one hand and a leash in the other. Shamus sat patiently at her feet.

  “Que per-r-r-ro, hermoso,” Valentina gushed.

  “I didn’t know the judge had a dog.” Yetta sniffed. “So when did that happen?”

  Phoebe eyed Yetta in a way that said it was
none of her business.

  “Just what we need around here…a fricken dog,” Chester grumbled.

  Kate held the open button down when the doors started to close.

  Shamus’s nose rose in the air as the food aromas wafted out…but it wasn’t food he was sniffing. Before Phoebe could move into the elevator, Shamus blocked her way, his sturdy little body standing fast. From the back of his neck to his tail, short black hairs rose in a stiff line. Nostrils wide, his big black eyes scanned the elevator’s occupants. Slowly, his lips drew back, revealing surprisingly long white teeth. Shamus was breathing hard as his eyes found their target. A deep growl confirmed his findings.

  Phoebe shortened the dog’s leash and followed his line of vision until it rested on the one person Shamus had targeted for his attention. She stepped back.

  “Too crowded,” she said pleasantly. “We’ll wait for the next one.”

  Before the elevator doors slid shut, Phoebe caught Clancy’s eye, sending him a cryptic message with one barely perceptible nod.

  Chapter 69

  “Pardon my sayin’ this, Judge, but how on God’s green earth did so many crazies find this place to call home?” Clancy’s six-foot, three inches afforded him a bird’s-eye view of the crowded room. “It’s like a sit-com, it is.” Clancy’s brogue escaped him every now and then.

  “I’m not going to argue that point, Sergeant,” Phoebe said.

  “Aw. Judge, isn’t it time you called me by my Christian name? I’d be honored if you would.”

  “I’d like that, Clancy. And then you must call me Phoebe.”

  Clancy shook his head. “Now, that’s one thing I don’t think I can do. You’ve always been Judge to me.” His face turned rosy. “Y’know, almost forty-five years later, I can honestly say you’ve never left my mind. It’s God’s work Bridey was sent to this place where you live. No doubt about it.”

  “He works in strange ways, indeed,” Phoebe agreed. “And you saved my life one more time when you lent Shamus to me. I might not be here if that little scamp hadn’t sensed the explosive device attached to my doorknob.” She put down her glass and lowered her voice. “We need to talk to Detective Ezuma. How sure are you Shamus fingered our suspect?”

  “That canine Sherlock is always on the money. I’m real sure he knows the person who attached that explosive to your door was the one he sniffed out on the elevator. But we need more than that. We need real evidence.” Clancy frowned as he looked at their suspect on the other side of the room. “I know you took him back to your apartment after he sniffed out a suspect on the elevator, but to make sure we’re on the right track, how’d it be if I got the rascal and let him check out the room while all the residents are here?”

  Phoebe shrugged. “Not supposed to have dogs in the common areas but this could be valuable information. Guess we could stretch the rules a bit.”

  “First, I’m going to fill in Bridey and Prescott. Prescott’s got his cell phone with him. He can take some videos. Be down with the dog in a few minutes,” Clancy said.

  “The wonders of modern technology,” Phoebe murmured. She handed Clancy her apartment key. “He’s usually on the window seat looking at the boats. I think he’d like to be on one of them, as would I.”

  Clancy heard the wistfulness in her voice and saw the far-away look in her eyes. He turned to leave the room, silently promising he would make her wish come true.

  Chapter 70

  “What’s this here dish called?” Latasha asked Yetta. She spooned another mound of the creamy noodles onto her plate. “It’s my third helpin’. I’m lovin’ it.”

  “Kugel. What—you never had kugel before?” Yetta looked at the detective in disbelief.

  “Miz Horowitz, I grew up in the ghetto, the black ghetto. Ain’t no kugel in the black ghetto.” She forked into the noodle mixture, closing her eyes as she chewed it. “M-m-m. It’s so satisfyin.’ I’m gonna get Kate to put this on her caterin’ menu.”

  Yetta smiled. “It’s my bubbe’s recipe, may she rest in peace.”

  “Bubbe, is that like a bubba?”

  “My god, Detective. You people have got to get out more.”

  Latasha cut her eyes at Yetta. “With all respect to you, Miz Horowitz, y’all can’t go around sayin’ ‘you people’ any more. It’s offensive.”

  Yetta sniffed. “I think you peop—” She stopped as Clancy entered the room with a haltered Shamus on a short lead. “Why is that man bringing a dog here? Just because he’s friendly with the judge doesn’t mean he gets special privileges.” She moved away to join Valentina and Chester.

  Latasha watched Clancy retrieve a piece of material he’d dropped under the dog’s nose. She set her dish down on a nearby table and nodded to Prescott who pulled an iPhone out of his pocket and set it to record. On the other side of the room, a deceptively casual Clancy watched Shamus’s reactions to the residents as he made his way to Bridey.

  “Dad, ready?” Bridey asked quietly.

  “That we are, darlin.’” He handed her the leash.

  “Cute dog,” a smiling Kate commented as Bridey picked up a cookie from the dessert table. Kate bent down to pet the attentive dog who sniffed her hand and turned away. “Hmm, dogs usually respond to me.” Kate frowned. “I must be losing my touch.”

  “He’s easily distracted. Great cookie.” She moved away from the table and let Shamus lead her around the room.

  Latasha watched Shamus work the room, nose to carpet, occasionally sniffing the air as he came to yet another resident.

  “I thought animals weren’t allowed in the room,” Chester whined to Yetta.

  “That’s what I told the detective,” Yetta agreed, glaring at Latasha. Latasha ignored her.

  Shamus stopped short. Ears alert and hackles rising fiercely, he sniffed the air. He sat and whined softly before he looked up at Bridey, then over to at Yetta, Chester, and Valentina as they chatted.

  “Whaddaya got there, little lady? Looks like a pukey little dog to me.” Chester snorted. “Ain’t gonna give you much protection, that one. Haw-haw.” Chester slapped his thigh.

  Slowly, Shamus approached the trio, sniffed at them then lowered himself into a sphinx-like position in before them.

  “What the hell’s he doin’?” Chester laughed. “Posin’ for animal crackers?”

  “No, Mr. Cheney. For some reason or other, Shamus finds you and these ladies attractive.” Bridey answered with a smile. “Does that happen to you much with animals?”

  “Haw—hardly. My wife’s cat hates my guts,” Chester said proudly.

  “Who’d a guessed that?” Latasha murmured to Bridey as she came up behind her. “You can take the dog out now,” she added in a low voice. “We got it.”

  “Have to go. Little guy needs a break,” Bridey announced before she swept Shamus into her arms and walked out of the room.

  “Oh, man, don’t we all! Ain’t never seen nothin’ like this,” Latasha mumbled to no one in particular. “Killers, bombs, cops in drag, midget police dogs. Help me, Lord,” she prayed under her breath, only half in jest.

  Chapter 71

  “What?” Clancy rose out of his seat and towered over Prescott across the narrow table. “Are you insane? I don’t care if you surround her with a cavalry for protection. She’s seventy-eight, has a bad hip, been subjected to one physical attack, and an attempt to kill her with a bomb. What are you thinking, man?” His face flushed with anger, he pounded the table with a clenched fist. “I won’t allow it.”

  “Dad.” Bridey put a restraining hand on his arm. “We’re just brainstorming here, you know. These are ideas, no matter how stupid they are.” She smiled at Prescott. “Really stupid.”

  Clancy looked at Latasha. “Detective, what are you thinkin’ about this?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Tell me it’s not what this twit is suggesting.”

  Latasha hid a smile. “I’m not agreein’ with Officer Dennison, Sergeant. But—” She pushed away from the table. It was taking too long t
o decide what to do next. One hour exactly. She began pacing around her office at the station. She stopped short and turned to Prescott. “How tall are you?”

  “How tall am I? Why?”

  “Officer Dennison, what’s the answer?” Latasha shot back.

  “Five-eleven,” he murmured.

  “Again,” Latasha ordered.

  “Er-r-r, five-ten.”

  “One more time, Officer, and this time it’d better be right.” She shot him a warning look.

  Prescott’s shoulders slumped. “Christ…five-eight.”

  Latasha smiled. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She sat down at the table, suddenly animated. “Here’s my plan.” She nodded at Clancy. “We don’t use the judge. We use Officer Dennison as a decoy.”

  Prescott sat up as if she had electrified his chair. “Decoy? Me? Why not her?” He thumbed in Bridey’s direction.

  Latasha’s eyes never left Prescott’s face. “How tall are you, Officer Magillicuddy?”

  Bridey suppressed a giggle. “Five-eleven and three-quarters. Stocking feet.”

  “Uh huh.” Latasha leaned in to Prescott. “See why? You a hell of a lot closer to the groun’. An’ besides, you like bein’ in drag and don’ you love actin’? You’re gonna love this. You’re a stooped ol’ lady, with a cane, bad hip, white hair—your kind of gig.”

  Prescott stopped in mid-protest and looked thoughtful.

  “Whaddaya say, Officer?” Latasha waited for his answer.

  A faint smile hovered at the corners of his mouth. “I get the silver alligator cane for a prop?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And I can pick out my outfit and jewelry?”

  “The judge’ll tell you what you c’n use. Let’s not get carried away here.”

  “Then, yes, Detective. I’ll do it. I’ll have back-up, right?”

 

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