by Julie Ramson
“Look, you have done your favor or pay back or whatever for Sean. I refused your help. Now toddle along like a good boy and leave me alone.” I was trying for the haughty, humorous, I-am-above-it-all approach.
“Nope. I promised Sean I would stick to you like glue until this whole mess is straightened out. So there you are, Toots.” His smile was lazy now. Jerk.
“What mess? He has a homicide and I have a client. No mess. No problem. You can go.” But I was thinking. Did Sean know something about this case that I didn’t? Probably. He wasn’t known for sharing information. Still, sending someone to protect me was over the top. I was attacked because I was in the wrong place and the wrong time. Wasn’t I? Was there more?
“And for your information, my name is not Toots, Honey or Sweetheart. It’s Mary Margaret. Maggie to some. Miss Flaherty to you. And if you want to stay, fine. Stay. You can sit out here. I am going into my office and do some work. Feel free to answer the phone if it rings. Or go get coffee. And a coffee cake while you’re at it.” I started toward my office. “Don’t let the door slam your butt on the way out.” I smiled sweetly and sailed past him into the office and closed the door.
Then I leaned against it, ear cocked, listening to see if I could hear him leave. As soon as he did I was calling my idiot brother and giving him a piece of what-for. I stood very quietly, listening. Silence. I couldn’t hear anything.
Suddenly the door jerked open and I almost fell out. He - what was his name? - caught me as I started to fall and braced me. He was grinning again. “How do you take your coffee, honey? And what kind of coffee cake? Sour prune? The color would match your eyes. And disposition.” He raised his eyebrows.
I glared at him. This is not a small thing. My glares are infamous in my family. I was sent to my room as a child for glaring. Once I was even kicked out of Mass when my teacher, Sister Bead caught me glaring at another kid. I excel at glares. Like my eye rolls, I have spent 28 years perfecting them. I drew up and continued to glare. He patted my cheek. “Careful, your face will freeze that way.” He arched one eyebrow. “Toots.”
He turned, shrugged into his brown leather jacket and walked to the door. “I can do coffee and cake. See? Already I’m useful.” He tipped an imaginary hat to me and walked out. No scarf, no gloves. Idiot. It was cold out there. I wondered where the hell he thought he was going for coffee cake. There wasn’t any place close to buy one. Tough. Not my problem.
I started back to my office and stopped. I quickly checked the window and watched him walk down toward the corner. I hurried into my jacket and slipped out of the office. I locked the office door and scurried around the building and into my car. I headed for Mrs. Hastings’ house. The neighbors. I hadn’t even thought of this yesterday but I would interview all the neighbors.
The street was empty in front of Mrs. Hastings’ house. I parked in front and got out. I locked the car, then double checked it. I was a bit spooked being back here. I hadn’t thought about that possibility but then I’m a little impulsive. I frequently find myself in situations full of things I hadn’t thought of. Damn. My face. Something else I hadn’t considered. I looked in the side mirror. Yow! I would scare small children with my face all battered and colored in purples and blues and greens. Oh, well, too late now.
The house to the left of Mrs. Hastings’ house was red brick. It was a similar three flat with a light brown door. I climbed the stairs to the porch and rang the bell. No answer. I tried again but clearly no one was home. I peered in the window to the side of the door, but the day was gray and there was not much light inside. I couldn’t see anything. The mailbox said, “Castelletti.” I looked around a little more, then turned and walked off the porch.
The house to the right of Lily’s was a cream brick. Same theme. Again, I climbed the stairs and rang the bell. After a few minutes it was answered by a tiny woman, probably in her 70's, wearing dark pants and a heavy sweater. She had white hair and bright blue eyes. She did not unlock the storm door. “Yes? Can I help you?” she asked rather suspiciously, staring at my battered face. She had a lilting Irish brogue but backed away from the door a bit. She probably thought I might attack at any second.
“Hi, my name is Maggie Flaherty and I am a friend of Emily’s -
Emily Hastings. I wondered if I could talk with you for a few minutes.” Okay, saying I was Emily’s friend might be stretching it but I didn’t think it rose to the level of Lie 4. Maybe though.
“Please excuse how I look but I was in a small car accident yesterday and I hit the steering wheel.” Lie 5.
The woman immediately softened and said, “Oh my dear, I am so sorry. It looks so painful!”
Yeah, well not as painful as it feels, I thought. “It’s not really as bad as it looks,” I smiled. Lie 6. I pulled out a card that gave my name followed by Attorney at Law and showed it to her through the glass door. She looked at the card for a minute, then said, “What is it you wanted?”
“Emily asked me to come over,” I said. Lie 7. They were piling up fast. “She said yesterday that she still can’t get into her aunt’s house and she wants to live there.” Well, at least that was true. “I want to help her but I am trying to figure out how to do that.”
The woman warmed up some more. “Yes, Emily is a lovely girl. It’s just a shame, so ‘tis. I guess you could come in for a few minutes. You’ve a good Irish name. I’m Mrs. O’Brien.” She opened the door and I walked into the heat of Hell. It was at least 90 degrees in that house. We entered into the living room. Every available foot was filled with furniture, tables and chairs, more tables and a couch. The tables all had doilies and were topped with kickbacks and photos, vases and small boxes. The walls were completely covered with religious pictures. Jesus as a child, Jesus as an adult, Jesus with thorns, Jesus on the cross, Jesus with His mother, Jesus with his hands folded, Jesus as the Infant of Prague, the crucifixion, the nativity, the Holy Family. There were pictures of the Pope, several of the Blessed Mother and some that looked like Saints but I had no clue which ones. Sprinkled in were even more pictures of John F. Kennedy. Looked like he ranked at least with the saints and probably above the Pope. I felt like I should genuflect and start saying the rosary. Or at least light a candle.
“Would you like some tea, dear?” she asked.
“Oh, that would be wonderful! I am chilled through to the bone.” Lie number 8 and it wasn’t even noon yet. I loathe tea unless it is flavored and has milk and sugar.
“Please come into the kitchen. I just made a fresh batch of cookies.” Okay! Yes! This I could do!
“Tea and cookies on a cold day, best thing, so ‘tis.” Sounded good me. But then, cookies always sound good to me.
We entered an even hotter kitchen and she gestured to an old Formica table. I hadn’t seen one of those in years. My grandmother had had one when she and Gramps had their own house. Resisting the urge to fan myself I made a mental vow to not sin anymore. At all. I would not like the heat of Hell. I sat down and she brought me a porcelain cup filled with plain, regular, unsweetened tea. Ugh.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. O’Brien. This will just hit the spot.” Number 9.
She offered me a plate of cookies and it was all I could do not to snatch it from her hand and stuff several into my mouth. These were the real thing - homemade cookies. Chocolate chip with lots of nuts. And sugar cookies still warm! If not for the tea - and the heat - I would think I had died and gone to heaven. “Mrs. O’Brien, these cookies are delicious!” No lie. I should get points for telling the truth on that.
She pressed more cookies toward me and I happily accepted. I felt like Killer with his dog biscuits but resisted the impulse to expose my belly for scratching.
“Forgive me, dear, but are you okay? You look like that car accident wasn’t very small, so you do.” She seemed concerned and I hastened to reassure her.
“I’m fine. It really was nothing. Just looks bad.” Lie number 10. At this rate I would have a place confirmed in hell by nightfall.
“About Emily. Were you and Mrs. Hastings friends?” I had to get a grip. No more cookies until I had gotten at least some information.
Mrs. O’Brien sat back in her chair. Her eyes misted over. “Oh my, yes. We were friends for 40 years. She and Herbert bought this house shortly after they were married. Michael and I had just moved in. We shared everything. I was blessed with children, however, but poor Lily wasn’t. ’Twas a great heartbreak for her. She just doted on my two, so she did.” She paused, then continued rambling. I’ll tell you, ‘tis really shocking what happened. I’m afraid in my own home now.” Mrs. O’Brien’s brow was furrowed and her eyes filled with tears.
“Lily used to rent the upper flats of her house but then stopped a few years ago. I think she just didn’t like strangers in her house. So look what happens! She lived alone. Just her and Paws.” Mrs. O’Brien looked over toward the back door and I noticed the large orange tabby curled in the corner.
“Lily’s cat?” I asked, looking at the tabby. The cat stared back at me in an unfriendly, nasty way.
“Oh, yes, dear. That’s Paws. Poor baby. He has been so upset since Lily was murd - died. He is just beside himself.”
Ha. He didn’t look upset to me. Paws just looked mean.
“And after all that with Emily! It was awful, so ’twas. I am so sorry it happened to her. She had such a difficult time in her teens, losing her parents and all the rest. Of course, I saw it coming.” Mrs. O’Brien went on. “She really hasn’t recovered yet.” She looked at me, clearly expecting some response.
What the hell were we talking about? Happened to Emily? What happened?
I put on a concerned face. “Oh, yes, I know, it’s so sad. I would really like to help her with all this but I can’t get her to talk about it much. I don’t suppose she shared all the details with you?” I was walking blind here. Help!
“Well Emily didn’t. She just can’t talk about it but Lily did. You know that Emily was really named for Lily, don’t you? True. Lily Emmaline. Lily was Emily’s father’s sister I think. No, wait. Sister in law. Maybe his brother’s wife. Or something. Oh, I don’t remember but I do remember that Emily’s father went to the war, that other one, you know, then when he came home he was different. Herbert used to say that war changed a man. And he would know, he would. He’d been in Korea. That war! 'Twas something. And Herbert was so quiet! Weren’t we all surprised later when Herbert told us he had money! I guess his family did anyway. Or something. He had invested during the war maybe. But he was good to Lily, so he was. Brought her all kinds of things, jewelry, paintings, rare books. Things that surprised me to be sure! Herbert didn’t seem like that kind of man. And then he died so suddenly. Car accident. And he was such a careful driver. We all......”
I had to get this woman back on track. I felt like Alice through the looking Glass.
“I am so sorry, Mrs. O’Brien, but did Mrs. Hastings ever say anything about a will? Or leaving anything to Emily?” I tried to be casual but if I did not get some air soon I was going to die of heat stroke. In January. In Chicago, if you can believe.
Mrs. O’Brien leaned forward to give the gossip. “Well, Lily never said who she was going to leave it all to, but I always thought it would be Emily. She took such care of Lily, so would be her. There was John, of course. He’s the son of a dear friend of Lily’s from her girlhood. He came around to see her, he would, but of course he’s not related. Lily was so kind to him, wasn’t she just, and he was here a lot as a child. Even now as an adult. Here over Thanksgiving, he was. I didn’t know him very well, but Lily seemed fond of him. I always wondered if he just came around to see if he could get some money out of her. I hate to believe that of people but it can happen. Don’t you think?” Mrs. O’Brien’s entire tiny body quivered with righteous indignation.
“Yeah, it can, but it’s always a surprise.” I replied thinking oh yeah, people are incredible when they smell money. No surprise there. Lie number 11. Damn.
“What happened to him? And why did you think he was trying to get money from Mrs. Hastings?”
“The last I heard of him 'twas shortly before Lily .....died. I thought he wanted money because I know Lily used to take care of him. Maybe he just wanted her things. But I hoped she was leaving it all to Emily. I told Lily that, so I did.” Again, Mrs. O’Brien’s eyes filled with tears.
“Did Lily ever see an attorney about a will? Did she leave everything to Emily?” I felt like a real creep for pressing this woman but I needed to know as much as possible. And what had happened to Emily?
“I’m not sure. Maybe last fall. I offered to drive her, I did, to the attorney’s office but I didn’t.” She frowned and bit her lip. “I don’t remember now if she went. Maybe she took a cab or Emily drove her. She never really said much about it again. She had a name of a lawyer, though, she did. What was it? Hanson, Sampson, Wilson, something like that. Emily has told me she can’t find the will, so I don’t know. I guess once they let the house open again Emily can look for it. Although I don’t know if they will open the house again. Why just yesterday someone broke in! I called the police when I thought I saw someone moving around in there. They came right away and had to shoot the intruder dead! Dead! Two deaths by violence in that house! What’s this world coming to?”
I almost choked on the cookie. “Really? An intruder? The police shot an intruder dead?” I could barely keep a straight face and stuffed another cookie into my mouth.
“Yes, and it was something! I heard the gunshots – several of them! I hear there is still blood everywhere and that the intruder had a gun, too, but police were faster. Thank God. Good thing I called the police or who knows what would have happened there! ’Tis a blessing I was home. I always say that neighbors can’t just turn a deaf eye to what is going on in the neighborhood. So I did what I could and they had to shoot him dead, so they did.”
I didn’t think I could handle this line of conversation much longer so I went back to Emily. “Mrs. O’Brien, I would really like to help Emily. Can you tell me more about what happened to her?” Not really a lie.
“She was jilted! Found the right man, she told Lily but I knew. I knew the minute I laid eyes on him that he was a cad and a bounder. I knew he’d break her heart but I thought he would at least wait until after the wedding. She found him with another woman and it like to break her heart. Blessing it was though. A cad. I can always tell.
“Do you remember his name?” I was really just making conversation while I thought of my next line of questioning. So far not much. I needed the name of the attorney who drew up the will.
“William. No, Robert. Maybe James. One of those common names. But he had shifty little eyes. Wouldn’t look a body in the face so I knew that he was no good.”
Mrs. O’Brien clearly did not have a head for names. She didn’t really have much more information either. She was just a lonely old lady who grieved for the loss of a life-long friend. We chatted a bit more and I left. It was not a complete loss, though. She gave me a big bag of her homemade cookies to take home.
My next stop was across the street but the Guptas had just moved in two weeks earlier and never met Mrs. Hastings. Still no one home on the other side of Mrs. Hastings in the Castelletti house. I should have thought to ask Mrs. O’Brien about them but it hadn’t occurred to me.
It had started snowing again and my head was beginning to throb. I decided to stop back at the office and then take the afternoon to sleep off the headache. I also still had to call Sean and tell him to call off his investigator - what was his name? I wanted to call Emily too and tell her not to go near her aunt’s house until we figured out what was going on.
Since it was now after one, I stopped and had lunch. I had made a New Year’s Resolution to make myself eat a more healthful diet so I ordered a slice of caramel apple pie and ice cream with my cheeseburger and fries. Fruit is good for you.
After lunch, I drove slowly through the falling snow to the office. I opened the door slowly
and sighed. WhatsHisName was again slouched in the chair. This time, however, he was not grinning. He was furious. Probably with me.
“Your coffee’s cold by now.” He fixed those laser blue eyes at me. I decided innocence and defiance was probably the best way to go. I was wrong but it was my best guess at the time.
“Oh? Well, that happens,” I started, tossing my purse on the reception desk and shrugging out of my jacket.
He stood up faster than I expected and I took a step back. Sparks were flying from those incredible eyes.
“Yeah, that happens when you sneak out and take stupid
chances. You might remember that someone attacked you yesterday and almost killed you. If you have forgotten, take a look in the mirror. Your black eyes and the lump on your forehead should bring it all back to you.” His voice was low and his entire body was tensed with his anger.
“Sean asked me to watch out for you. To make sure no one
hurt or killed his sister. I agreed. I didn't know it was going to be the
Favor from Hell. He said you were a bit pig headed at times but he didn’t tell me you were reckless and stupid to boot.”
“Hey, wait just a minute! I never asked you to watch me or help me or anything else! That was Sean’s idea, not mine!” I could feel my anger rising. “I don’t want an investigator. I don’t even know your name! Furthermore -”
“Digs.”
“What?”
“Digs. That’s my name.”
Well, Digs - what the hell kind of name is Digs? I don’t need a watchdog, Digs! In fact, I already have a watchdog! A real Killer watchdog! He is vicious and can trace his bloodline back to the dogs Hitler trained! He is big - huge, in fact. Nothing stops him when he thinks I am in danger! So thanks for the offer, but no thanks. I don’t need a big, he man, let-me-protect-the-poor-little-woman jerk in my life! I have Killer! And a boyfriend. He’s big too. And he carries a gun. And he is nuts about me.” I was panting with all the pent up fear and pain and frustration of the last two days. All of it was coming out in spades on poor - WhatsHisName? Digs?