Watchin' The Detective: A Mystery Dinner Romance

by Louise Hathaway

  Karen says, “I was hoping I might see you again.”

  Isabella is surprised and says, “Really?”

  “Yes. Really. I wanted to apologize to you for all my drama. I mean, here you are, coming for your mellow spa day, and I unload on you.”

  “Please don’t feel that way. Sit down,” she says, pointing to the sofa next to her.

  “My name is Karen by the way.”

  “I’m Clarissa.”

  “That’s a beautiful name.”

  “I was named after my Grandmother.”

  “Do you work outside the home?”

  “Yes. I work in an advertising agency.”

  “That must be fun. Is it like ‘Mad Men’?”

  Isabella laughs and says, “No. Quite the opposite. The women are running things now.”

  “It’s about time!” Karen replies.

  Isabella laughs and says, “What about you, Karen. Do you work outside the home?”

  “I do a lot of charity work. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Orangewood?”

  “The place where children are taken for protection against their abusive parents?”

  “Yes. That’s right. We organize a lot of the fundraisers to support them.”

  “It sounds like very fulfilling work.”

  “It is. I’m also a supernumerary at the Performing Arts Center.”

  “You’re an actress?”

  “Yes. You could call it that. I rarely get any speaking roles. I’m just a spare body that they move about the stage when needed.”

  “I’m sure you’re more than that,” Isabella answers. “Did your husband share your love for the theater?”

  “Well, not as much as I do. He always came to see the performances that I was in, though. He had to travel a lot for work; but came to support me as often as he could get away from his job.”

  “What kind of work was he in?”

  “He was a salesman.”

  “I imagine that involves a lot of traveling and wining and dining.”

  “Yes. It certainly did. But I joined him as often as I could and we’d have mini-vacations that we would tack onto the end of his business trips. We both love to travel and see the world. I should say ‘both used to love’ travel. Past tense.” She takes out a Kleenex from the pocket of her bathrobe and starts to cry again.

  “I’m so very sorry,” Isabella says; and reaches over to hold Karen’s hand. She is starting to feel a little guilty for her deception. I’m starting to have serious doubts about Karen killing him, she tells herself.

  “Thank you for being so sweet, Clarissa.”

  Isabella keeps holding her hand until Karen says, “Clarissa, how would you like to come over to my house for dinner tonight?”

  “You’re too kind. I couldn’t impose on you with all you’re going through.”

  “I mean it. I don’t like cooking for just myself and want to make it up to you for having to put up with all my drama today. Please say you’ll come. It will do me a world of good.”

  “I’d love to,” Isabella answers. And, she really means it.

  “Good! Then it’s settled. Here, let me give you my address. How’s seven?”

  “Perfect,” Isabella says.

  Karen stands to leave and shakes hands with Isabella. “You know, you’ve made me feel better than I’ve felt in a long while. Thank you for being so kind.”

  “You’re so sweet,” Isabella says, shaking Karen’s hand. “Drive safe.”

  As Karen is almost out the front door, Isabella asks loudly, “What can I bring? Wine?”

  “Just yourself,” Karen answers with a smile as the front door closes behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Isabella makes the turn off Pacific Coast Highway at Poppy Drive in Corona Del Mar slowly. There’s a big crowd of people coming and going from the Five Crowns. She remembers going there for her high school prom and thinks how fun it would be to go back again. Following her iPhone GPS, she drives slowly down Poppy Drive, all the time admiring the beautiful homes. Up ahead she can see the blue of the ocean. The street ends and turns into Ocean Boulevard. I wonder why they call this a Boulevard. There are no businesses or street lights. Perhaps the prestige factor?

  She turns right and her GPS proudly announces that she’s reached her destination on the right. She pulls over, parks and sees the number of Karen’s house on the mailbox. The light is beginning to fade but Isabella can make out a Spanish-style home with beautiful landscaping and a large second floor veranda that looks out over the street. Getting out of her car, she sees Karen standing on the veranda, waving.

  “Hello! Hello! Up here!”

  Isabella waves back, smiling. She’s brought flowers, thinking she should bring something. Compared to the beautiful landscaping, the flowers seem so insignificant. Walking up the tiled entry way, the front door opens and Karen appears. Smiling, she gives Isabella a hug.

  “I’m so glad you came! I was thinking you might try and cancel out after all my histrionics at the spa. You know I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

  “Nonsense! How could anyone not want to come to your glorious house? I brought flowers but it looks like you already have that covered.” From the entry way, Isabella sees large arrangements of brilliantly colored flowers.

  “Oh, these are lovely. I have just the vase for them. Please come in and make yourself at home.” Karen turns and goes into the kitchen looking for a vase to put Isabella’s flowers in. Isabella loves the house. She stares in awe at the beautiful rooms decorated with gorgeous pieces of art and furniture. It reminds her of those beautiful houses she sees on the home tours except much better. Karen arranges the flowers in a sparkling crystal vase and places them on the dining table just off the kitchen. It is set for two and there are candles lit.

  “Karen, this is so beautiful and, well, romantic! You are so sweet to do this for me. I still can’t believe you’re going to all this trouble while everything is swirling around you.”

  “Clarissa, you have no idea how this helps me. I’ve always loved having friends over and entertaining. It gives me some time to get away from everything that’s going on.”

  “I’m so glad I can help ease your grief. No one should have to go through this alone. My God, what is that wonderful smell? I think I’m three feet off the ground!”

  “It’s part of dinner. Eggplant Parmesan. I love eggplant and I’ve really gotten to love this recipe. I hope you will too.”

  “I already do!”

  “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Coffee? Something stronger?”

  “I’m leaning towards something stronger.”

  “How about something sparkling?” Karen reaches over and pulls a bottle of Prosecco out of a wine chiller and deftly pours them both some wine. The bubbles sparkle in the light of the fireplace crackling in the front room.

  “To friends!” Karen says holding her glass up.

  Isabella clinks hers and says, “Friends!”

  Karen says, “Let’s go sit in the front room and watch the sunset while the dinner cooks.”

  They sit together on a sofa facing the ocean, watching the dimming light.

  “So Karen, how are you doing?”

  “I’m doing fine. I’m better today than I was the past week or so. I think that’s progress. Having you over and doing this has made me forgot about everything for a while. When Dean, my husband, used to go on business trips, I used to enjoy my charitable activities so much because they put me in another space for a while. Speaking about her husband has brought sadness back to Karen’s face and she is quiet for a moment. Isabella reaches out her hand and touches Karen’s arm.

  “Oh, there I go again! Talking about him. Just smack me if I do that again. We were having such a good time.”

  “Karen, we’re still having a good time. Grieving is a process. This will take time. Don’t feel bad about talking about it. I think it helps. When my father passed away, my mother kept her grief all locked up inside. It
didn’t do her any good. The stress almost ate her up inside.”

  “Oh, you’re such a dear,” Karen says, getting up and walking into the kitchen. “I’ll be right back. I just have to check on the food.”

  Isabella looks around the room at all the art and beautiful furnishings. She can see there are a lot of memories here. Pictures of Karen and her husband are everywhere. Smiling faces peering out of frames from days gone by. She can’t help but notice the happiness they both show. They’re always arm in arm and close to each other. Is this what a failed, angry marriage looks like? I don’t think so. Karen returns with the bottle and tops their glasses off.

  “So how long were you married?”

  “It would’ve been thirty-five years in December.”

  “Wow, that’s a long time. Do you have any children?”

  “No, we were never blessed. We tried when we were younger but I guess the fates ruled against us. Dean wanted children badly, I could tell. He never told me to my face though. That’s how considerate he was to me. He had a weakness for certain things: other women, money, gambling. He struggled with it his entire life. But at the end of the day, we were still in love. We had a love that could overcome just about anything. Did I hurt sometimes? Sure. But things always came around eventually. I would love to be able to forgive him for dying and have him come back to me.”

  Karen breaks down crying and Isabella pats her on the shoulder, hoping to comfort her.

  “My sister always told me I was crazy and that I shouldn’t put up with his behavior. She always told me I should demand a divorce. We argue all the time but always make up. I know she says all those things out of love. You’ll have to meet my sister. I think you’d get along with her. You’re very much alike.”

  Isabella hopes she doesn’t have to meet her anytime soon. As they sit talking on the couch watching the sunset, it finally hits home to Isabella that Karen did not kill her husband. Too many things don’t add up. She feels so awful inside for her half-baked assumptions of Karen’s guilt. She’s sitting here having the time of her life. If Karen only knew why she came in the first place. It embarrasses her deeply. Then, she thinks about the detective: what does he have on Karen that I don’t know about? What if she is the world’s best con? But why would she have to be so convincing about every little detail to a perfect stranger? She wants to end this charade and tell Karen what this is all about, but she doesn’t have the heart. Or the courage. It would just add to her list of woes.

  “Are you hungry?” Karen calls out from the kitchen.

  “Yes! I sure am!” Isabella answers and tries to gain her composure, “Do you need any help?”

  “Nope. Just come in and have a seat.”

  Isabella makes her way to the small dining room off the kitchen where Karen has set a table for two. She has just placed a platter of Eggplant Parmesan on the table. She returns with a bowl of fresh greens and a platter of garlic bread that has Isabella in a trance.

  “This is so wonderful Karen. Can I live here always?”

  They both sit and laugh; Karen is clearly in a happy mood.

  “I thought you might like a little Chianti with your eggplant.” She pours them both a glass and they raise their glasses, toasting again, this time to a long life and Karen adds, “to friends”. Isabella feels so bad and wishes she’d never done this. It feels like the best and worst time of her life.

  They sit eating, drinking and talking well into the evening. Karen is very animated, talking about her travels with her husband and the fun things they did together. She is relishing all the old times as if they had just happened. At the end of the meal, Karen brings in a very old brandy and pours them both a glass.

  “Dean and I used to have a glass of this whenever we had a special night out or a special dinner. It was a special celebratory thing that we did. Whenever we felt happy and close, we’d have a glass of this and promise each other we’d remember that night. It was a way for us to cement those memories.”

  “Karen, I feel so honored that you would offer me a glass! I feel so special.”

  “You are special, dear. I’m so happy you came here tonight. You’ve been my little ray of sunshine. You’ve taken away my sadness and grief for the moment and made me feel whole again. I can’t tell you how wonderful that is.”

  Now Isabella’s eyes are beginning to mist over as she reaches for Karen’s hand. She squeezes it as they say nothing.

  “Oh look!” Karen says pointing to the front window. “They’re shooting off fireworks from the beach. Let’s go out on the veranda and watch the show!”

  They take their brandies outside and sit in the plush recliners looking up at the explosions in the night sky. All along the street and down on the beach are couples arm-in-arm, some sitting together enjoying the show. Sadness comes over Isabella again as she thinks about her subterfuge to get here. She’s yearning to tell the detective about what she knows. She’d also like to be with him on the beach below, watching the fireworks on a beautiful night like this.

  When the fireworks end, Isabella turns to Karen and says, “I hate to, but I must go. I’ve got to get up early tomorrow to catch up on some work.”

  “You can stay here if you like. I’ve got plenty of room.” Isabella thinks again about how awful it would be if Karen found out about her scam.

  “You’re so sweet, Karen. I can only take advantage of you so much. I want to say how much fun I had tonight and what a special evening I had.”

  “Will I see you at Burke Williams again next week? I’m there every Wednesday, you know.”

  “You might. My schedule is up in the air right now. I really love that place.”

  On her way out, Karen gives her a beautiful cloth bag.

  “Here are some leftovers for you. Some eggplant, some salad and garlic bread. It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”

  Isabella puts her arms around Karen and they both hug. Isabella has tears in her eyes now.

  “Why the sadness, Clarissa? Did I do something that made you sad?”

  “Of course not. I’m so happy, I’m crying.”

  “Now I don’t want any more tears. Call me next week and let’s get together and do something. Do you like to shop? We can go over to Fashion Island, window-shop, and get a bite. Give me a call and we’ll have some fun.”

  “Thank you, Karen.” Isabella walks down to her car. Just before she gets in, she turns and looks back at the house. Karen is out on the veranda and is waving. Soft jazz music is coming out of the house. Isabella waves back and gets into her car. Slowly driving down Ocean Boulevard, she passes people coming from the beach and the fireworks show. Many couples are still arm in arm. She turns up towards Pacific Coast Highway. Just before the light, she pulls her car over and parks. She rolls down the passenger window of her car. It’s the night before trash pickup in the neighborhood and everyone has their cans out. Isabella reaches out and opens one of the cans and with tears in her eyes, tosses the beautiful floral bag in to the can. Pulling back out into traffic, she wipes her eyes as she turns north on Pacific Coast Highway.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When Isabella arrives home, she’s too wound-up to sleep. Not only does she feel guilty about lying to Karen; she also wants to find a way to prove the poor lady’s innocence. But how? she asks herself, as she takes off her makeup and puts on her “Hello Kitty” flannel nightie. She decides to take another look at the pictures she took that night at the dinner theater. She’s already looked at them several times, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’s missed something.

  She uploads them to her computer, so she can see them on a bigger screen. She props up her pillows on her bed and sets the computer on her lap; then slowly looks at them once more. There’s a picture of Nicole with food in her mouth, a funny picture of Nicole and Gunther, and a group picture that Henri had taken of her and her friends. There are some pictures of the wedding table in the middle of the floor. She looks a little closer to hone in on what’s beyond the
table and sees Karen and Dean Black laughing and looking lovingly at each other. She zooms in to take a better look. They were happy and having a great evening until it all came crashing down. It’s so surreal to think that Dean is now dead. Karen does not looks like a woman who’s about to kill her husband. Two of Isabella’s photos look totally black; and at first, Isabella thinks that her camera went off accidentally. In the first one, there is a speck of light, and then she realizes that this was taken when the actor came out with the flashlight. She didn’t take this picture. How did this get here? Then, she remembers that Joshua had taken some pictures with her phone that night, too. In the second picture, there is also this speck of light, but something else. Isabella zooms in and is shocked at what she sees: it is a hand holding a gun—a hand with a cufflink on a sleeve. “Oh my God!” she says aloud. “It’s Hamid! It’s been him all along!”

  *******

  The next morning, she’s up at the crack of dawn. She can’t wait to call the detective to tell him what she’s discovered; she’s just waiting for a “decent” time to call. Today’s a work day; no more spa visits with the rich and famous. She takes a white halter dress out of her closet. She’s going for the Marilyn Monroe, “Seven-Year-Itch,” look today. Wait until everybody sees my hair, she thinks. They are going to freak.

  The first one to freak out is Joshua. When she nears his coffee cart on her morning walk to work, she takes out her phony reading glasses and puts them on. Let’s see if he recognizes me. She stands in line with the rest of his customers and he casually glances her way. He smiles at her and continues his barista’ duties. That’s it? she thinks. When her turn comes to place an order, she smiles at him and he does a double-take. “Isabella! I didn’t even recognize you! What have you done to your hair? Please tell me you’re wearing a wig!”