by A. M. King
“Thanks,” Jonathan continued. “Anyway, she was into real estate deals.”
“Do you have any idea why they were arguing?”
“I only heard bits and pieces of the conversation. I think it was over money.”
“Wow, that’s a surprise,” Aunt Vanity said, sarcastically.
“What do you mean by that?” Febe asked.
“Money is the root of all evil.”
“No, it isn’t.” Aunt Trixie said. “It’s love of money.”
“No, it’s lack of money. People who lack it want it so badly and would do anything to get it.”
“One thing for sure is that money bewitches people. It’s like a drug. They get addicted to how it makes them feel when they have it and feel terrible when they’re as broke as a bad joke.”
“Auntie!” Febe said.
“What? It’s true, isn’t it?”
Later that evening, Febe made a call to Raoule’s office. He seemed friendly enough. She wasn’t getting any strange vibes from him.
“I’m playing at the Combo nightclub,” Raoule told her over the phone. “You can see me before I go on stage.”
A lawyer who moonlights as a musician at night. Interesting.
“You play? I didn’t know you were an entertainer.”
“I do what I can. I’m a musician at heart. Helps me to relax. I play the sax. See you at eight.”
“Great. See you then.”
* * *
Febe glanced at her watch. Time was running out. She really had to catch this cold-blooded killer soon. Each day, each hour meant that person was still loose, which meant they could run further out of town.
The club had a nice mellow jazz feel to it. Patrons were friendly, laughing and chatting amongst themselves.
“Hi, I’m looking for Raoule,” she asked the barista.
“He’s out back. Near the stage.”
“Thanks.”
Febe made her way through the crowd. She saw the tall gentleman with the brass saxophone in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other, talking to a woman.
As if by instinct, he glanced up at Febe. “Hey, Febe, right?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Your description was good over the phone.”
Febe smiled. He was charming and his smile touched his lovely dark eyes.
“Can we talk somewhere private?” she asked.
“Sure, back here.”
When they got to the dressing room at the back, he closed the door slightly. “So you wanted to ask me about Ericka. Dear, dear Ericka. God rest her soul.”
“Yes, it’s sad, isn’t it? Did you know her long?”
“Long enough. We did a few deals together. But she was going through some crazy stuff. She was having trouble selling a few of her properties.”
“She had lots of properties?”
“Yeah,” he said, taking a puff of smoke. “She was all right. A little anxious at times, but not a bad lady. She had some crazy tenants though.”
“Anyone of concern?”
“Just the odd one here and there trashing her properties, running down the value. She ended up paying a ton for repairs. I told her I’d draw up an agreement for her that would hold them liable.”
“And did she go with it?”
“Not for her main condo downtown,” he said.
“Oh, the one her nephew lives...lived in?” Febe added.
“Nephew?”
“Yes. Jonathan.”
He laughed out loud. “Jonathan’s not her nephew. That was just a pretense so she could put some properties in his name for tax purposes—or as I warned her it was tax fraud, but she didn’t want to listen to me. He was her lover. They’re not related.”
Febe’s jaw fell wide open.
Chapter 19
“Now what’s this about?” Jonathan said at the Victorian in the study as he appeared calmly on the couch. She’d used a powerful summoning spell to bring him back pronto. And between that and her energies, it was potent enough to do the trick.
Febe didn’t want to face her aunties right now. She didn’t need their I-told-you-so. She needed to get to the bottom of this case soon to free herself from being a possible person of interest.
If, or when, they found out that Jonathan and Ericka were lovers, Febe would look even guiltier because it would look as if she was a jealous lover in this crazy love-triangle.
Ugh.
Could this case get any more worse?
“I’m on to you like white on rice. You tricked me!”
“Listen, I’m not perfect.”
“Far from it. No wonder my Aunt Trixie hates you.”
“Ouch. Remind me to send you the bill for my therapist.”
“It’s not funny, Jonathan. This is serious.”
“Listen, you’re right. I have trouble telling the truth.”
“No kidding.”
“Ouch again.”
“You have no trouble being a scoundrel too. If I wasn’t under suspicion, I’d quit now, but my prints are all over the condo where you two lived. No wonder you never wanted me to visit you there on weekends when we first met. Grrh. Why can’t I date a decent man?”
Like Trey.
He sighed deeply. “I’m sorry...I should have been up front with you from the get go. It was never physical. She just needed a younger man to take her out on a date once in a while. She was okay with me having, you know a girlfriend on the side.”
She rolled her eyes and scowled at him. “We were supposed to be getting married.”
“Oh, right. That.”
“After this. We are through. I don’t want to ever see you again. Got it?”
He swallowed hard. “Got it.”
* * *
“I cannot believe you’re going back there, Febe,” Janvier said.
“I have no choice. I need to find some more clues, Janvier. Before you know it, they’ll build a case against us. Besides, we now have the key.”
“And what are you going to say if we get caught? That the ghost of your ex-boyfriend said it was okay?”
She playfully rolled her eyes. “No, silly.”
“Well then what?”
“Jonathan always had short term memory issues. I think he had some information stored on his computer. He used to always keep diary notes and such.”
“And what if we find someone else there and they end up dead, too?”
“Janvier!”
“Febe!”
* * *
When Febe got inside the apartment, she quietly closed the door. She then turned the lock so that they wouldn’t get any more surprises.
Febe turned on the lights in the condo apartment. “Hello, is anyone here?” she called out. It didn’t seem like it but both girls still looked around in every room and every closet just to make sure, given what happened to them the last time they were there.
“Looks like we’re alone this time, Sis.”
“Good,” Febe said. “I still don’t understand who could have wanted Ericka dead?”
“Or what happened to her?”
“I know.”
Febe glanced around. It was a good thing the police removed the crime scene tape.
“I guess the cops already found what they were looking for,” Janvier commented, glancing around.
“I guess so. But it doesn’t hurt to take a second look. It’s frightening to think that Ericka was just here the other day and now...”
Janvier swallowed hard. “Do you think she was being watched?”
“By whom?’
Janvier shrugged. “Maybe whoever killed her knew she would be coming back to her apartment,” she said.
“Or maybe...” Febe rubbed her chin with her forefinger and thumb, thinking, “Maybe, she surprised someone.”
“Yes, the cops think so too, Sis. She surprised us, remember?”
“Not that, Sis. I’m not talking about us,” Febe said, opening and closing drawers in the bedroom and by Jonathan’s home off
ice nook. He often worked from home and his bedroom was large enough to accommodate a large computer desk with a file cabinet.
“What are you referring to, then?”
“Maybe after we left, someone else came into Jonathan’s apartment expecting to find it empty and was surprised that she was here.”
“Do you think it could have anything to do with that special project at his spy job he was working on?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, what about his debts? You said his co-worker said he owed everyone something in that Bureau office. Maybe he gambled and he owed some bookie somewhere.”
“This isn’t 1930s Chicago, Janvier. I really don’t think that’s the case. I just feel there’s something more to the story. Who could have possibly known Ericka would be here?” Febe said, walking out of his bedroom and into the living area. Her eyes scanned around to see if she could see anything out of the ordinary.
“Does the place look the same since you two, well, dated?” Janvier asked, following Febe out into the living area and searching around.
“It’s been a while, but I don’t think much has changed.” Febe went over to a portrait on the wall over by the dining area. It seemed to have been shifted slightly. She ran her fingers over the frame and before she knew, the picture dropped from the wall as if it hadn’t been secured properly.
“Oh, no. What happened?” Janvier asked, alarmed.
“I don’t know. I just touched the picture and...” Febe couldn’t help but notice a cut out on the wall. She pressed her fingers over it and it popped open. Behind the fake wall was some sort of safe.
Both Febe and Janvier exchanged funny glances.
“He had a safe in the apartment?” Janvier asked.
“It’s new to me, too.” She swallowed hard. It seemed to be in intact. “I’ll have to let Detective Heart know about this.”
“Why don’t we just open it and find out what’s inside?”
“Janvier!”
“What? It could lead to some clues. Maybe he was robbed.”
“You know we’re not supposed to practice magic unless it’s an emergency.”
“What’s wrong about wanting to clear your name and find out who really murdered your ex-fiancé and Ericka?”
“You’ve got a point, but I’d rather leave that one to the cops.”
“Fine.” Janvier pouted and sat down on the couch with her arms folded across her chest. “If you insist on doing things the hard way or the human way, be my guest. I’m going to listen to some music—or on second thought, I think I’ll read a magazine. Let me know when you’re done.” She picked up a copy of Cosmo from the glass coffee table and began flipping through the glossy, colored pages.
“Fine.” Febe went over to the kitchen area and opened the fridge. She didn’t see anything unusual except poor Jonathan never kept much food in the fridge, only the usual condiments like ketchup and butter and a few bottles of beer. Nothing else. It was bare.
“You know, he used to have a jug of juice he always left in here,” Febe commented.
“So?”
“So, it’s not here.”
“Maybe he drank it all before he left.”
“Actually, he told me that carrot juice was his favorite and it was his auntie’s too. I think there was a time when he left her some in a jug if I can remember correctly.”
Febe sighed deeply and closed the fridge. She went into the living room. “Someone must have known she was here, but who?”
Janvier continued to flip through the pages until she got to the end of the magazine. She then tossed it back on the coffee table and turned on the flat screen TV over the electric wall fireplace. “Let me know when you’re done, Sis.”
“Are you going to help me or what?”
“You said you don’t need my help.”
“When did I say that? I meant I don’t want any magical help. Just...manual.”
“Fine. Let me just check the weather forecast.” Janvier flipped over the channel but it landed on the lobby.
Janvier then flipped the channel to the twenty-four hour news channel.
“Wait a minute,” Febe said.
“What’s wrong?” Janvier asked.
“Turn it back to channel 988.”
“Why? It’s just the lobby channel. Nothing exciting. Just the concierge guy sitting at the desk pretending to look busy.”
Janvier turned it back.
“That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“That’s the only person who would know who was in Jonathan’s apartment at any given time.”
“Yeah, and he’s the concierge.”
“Exactly. The one we’d least suspect.”
Chapter 20
Febe and Janvier soon found themselves staking out the condo, waiting for the concierge to finish his shift.
Conrad left work at the condo and they followed him as discreetly as they could.
He looked around suspiciously as if he knew they were there. A natural human instinct. He carried a pouch and what looked like a computer, a laptop.
“He sure drives a nice car for a concierge,” Janvier whispered as they staked out in Janvier’s car.
They drove behind him when he pulled out of the garage.
He turned a corner sharply and sped off.
They drove as fast as they could.
He pulled up at a Cally’s Diner in the downtown core.
Later, they observed him as he sat in a corner and opened up the laptop. “That’s Jonathan’s,” Febe said, stunned.
“Are you sure?”
“Jonathan had some heart shaped stuff on his laptop. I think that’s his. I can’t really tell.”
When he left the diner, Febe followed the concierge again. She tried to keep pace with him as he jetted out of the café. He grabbed something out of his trunk and slammed the trunk shut. It looked as if he’d taken out a gym bag. She’d almost forgotten the condo had a nice gym in the basement. He glanced around and Febe hid behind the pillar, hoping he wouldn’t see her. It was a good thing she had soft shoes on so she didn’t make any noise on the concrete ground of the underground parking garage. As he was making a beeline for Exit A, he paused and turned around. As if he could sense Febe’s presence, he glanced around the parking lot.
Febe’s heart pounded hard in her chest. She should have used the invisibility spell, but it only lasted a few minutes and she wasn’t in the mood to screw up another spell at this critical time, not without her witching license.
Conrad took a few steps towards her. She then heard the sound of a cell phone ringing loudly with a heavy metal tune. Febe couldn’t place the song, not that she listened to heavy metal. Luckily it was his phone and not hers. She reached into her purse and quickly pressed the side button to mute her device just in case someone called at the wrong time.
Conrad fidgeted with his zipper to get to his phone in his bag. Something slipped out of his back pocket onto the ground, but he didn’t realize. He just glanced at his phone and answered it with a grin. “Hey, baby. Yeah, I’ll be right up.”
He was apparently going to meet his girlfriend at the gym.
After he’d left through Exit A, Febe quickly ran over to the spot where he’d dropped his wallet. She would return it to the concierge desk and to whoever was manning it, but not before taking a quick peek inside.
She looked around to see if she was being watched, only to realize that of course the security cameras would be on her. Which brought her to another question: why didn’t the security tapes pick up anyone suspicious entering Jonathan’s apartment? Because it had to be an inside job, right?
When Febe flipped open Conrad’s wallet, she was stunned to see his photo ID, it looked nothing like the person who manned the front desk in the lobby. The ID wasn’t even for the condo.
Crap.
It read: Conrad B. Delucio, Special Investigative Officer, Department of Paranormal Activity.
* * *
�
�Are you sure, he’s from the Department?” Janvier said later as Febe glanced around the kitchen in Jonathan’s condo, again looking for clues. Anything. But what she saw was nothing. Nothing that could help her.
“Yes, I’m sure. There’s got to be a connection. I tried to connect with Jonathan, but his ghostly behind is somewhere in limbo right now. I want to find out if he knew about Conrad’s background.”
“There has to be a connection.”
“Not sure, but we need a suspect that’s not me. A motive. And a means.”
“Listen Sis, I hate to tell you this, but the cops have already been through this place. If there was anything suspicious they would have found it.”
“You’re right maybe I...” Just then a wave of energy swept through Febe. She felt a strong pounding in her head.
“What’s wrong sis?”
“That’s it.”
Janvier frowned. “What’s it? What are you talking about now?”
“You said it, Sis. If anything was strange or suspicious the cops would have found it.”
“So?”
“So, we’ve been looking at the wrong thing.”
“What wrong thing?”
“Suspicious objects. What we need to look at are non-suspicious objects.”
“Okay, now you’ve totally lost me, girl. What on earth are you babbling about?”
Febe went to the kitchen cupboard and dug through everything. She looked at the seasonings. Nothing struck her as odd. Then she bent down and opened the bottom cabinets. She saw bleach, detergents and other cleaning products. She pulled out the bottles. She then went back up to the top cupboards and pulled out a few seasonings and baking soda.
Janvier looked on puzzled, scratching her head. “You sure you’re not having a meltdown, sis? Maybe you need to slow down on those lessons and take your time. I knew everything was happening too fast for you.”
“No, no. It’s not that,” Febe whispered mindlessly, almost to herself.
She then placed all the products and containers on the floor and knelt down, sighing deeply and eyeing them.