Dying to Read (The Cate Kinkaid Files Book #1): A Novel

by McCourtney, Lorena

  Krystal sat in the other wing chair and held her hands neatly in her lap. “You wanted to ask me something about Amelia, perhaps? Or her niece?” She sounded pleasantly encouraging.

  Cate decided to go straight to the focal point of this visit. “Actually, I really wanted to ask about the Whodunit ladies. I understand that in addition to the book discussions you shared, there was something like an investment club you were in together?”

  “Where did you get this information?” The question didn’t sound hostile, but it held a hint of frost.

  Cate decided not to give a name. “It came up in my investigation for my client.”

  Krystal seemed undecided for a moment, but then she gave an almost imperceptible shrug. “It wasn’t really a club. Just an opportunity we all had to make what appeared to be an excellent investment. Unfortunately, that didn’t turn out to be the case. But I was fortunate in that I’d invested only a small amount and didn’t lose much.”

  “You had misgivings about the investment?”

  “Before his death my husband put much of our money into good mutual funds. He left me quite comfortable. Although Amelia’s pressure to get us all to invest was very intense.” A small line cutting between her perfectly arched brows suggested she hadn’t appreciated that pressure.

  “What kind of investment was it?”

  “A company developing a totally different type of car engine using some easily available alternate energy source. Hydrogen? Nitrogen? I’m afraid the technicalities escaped me. The investment wasn’t yet open to the public, so investors who got in early could expect a tremendous profit. Amelia said it was the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “Apparently you made a wise decision not to invest a large amount.”

  “I saw no reason to place much trust in Amelia’s judgment about an investment. I’m sure you saw that painting in her living room.” She wrinkled her nose delicately.

  “The one with three eyes?” Gazing out of what appeared to be a cauldron of bad chili.

  “That was also one of her investments. Some upcoming artist whose work is supposed to make a spectacular jump in value as soon as he becomes better known. I wouldn’t put the thing in my laundry room.” Krystal’s reserved elegance took a hit with the catty-sounding comment, and another not un-catty comment followed. “I’ve always wondered if he was a friend of Radford’s.”

  Which suggested she also questioned Amelia’s judgment about the current man in her life. Everyone but Amelia seemed to have had reservations, to put it kindly, about good-looking Radford. “Did Radford get in on this investment?”

  “I don’t know.” Krystal’s already perfect posture straightened in the chair. “That’s an interesting question, isn’t it? I hadn’t thought about it before.”

  Cate saw something out of the corner of her eye. Did that doll move? No, of course not. Cate jerked her attention back to Krystal. “Did Scott also pressure everyone to invest?”

  “No, not really. It was something he was handling outside normal office channels. A rather large minimum amount was required to get in on it, but Amelia said she’d persuaded him to make an exception for her friends, and we should take advantage of that.”

  “That’s why everyone blamed her, not Scott, when the investment tanked? Because she was the one who pushed it?”

  “Scott said that knowledgeable investors were jumping on it, but he warned us that any investment involved risk. He didn’t seem eager to let us in on it.”

  “Maybe that was a clever sales technique.”

  Krystal’s delicate eyebrows lifted. “You’re suggesting he knew all along that it was a bad investment?”

  “I don’t know much about investments,” Cate admitted. The closest thing she had to an investment portfolio was an envelope of coupons for toilet tissue and buy-one-get-one-free at Burger King.

  “Scott called each of us to tell us personally how sorry he was when the company went under. He seemed quite distressed about it.”

  “How about Amelia?” Cate asked. “Did she feel bad that the investment she’d promoted lost money for everyone?”

  “She went on and on about how sorry she was, that the company was just ahead of its time. Et cetera, et cetera.” A small gesture of Krystal’s manicured hand suggested a certain lack of faith in Amelia’s distress.

  “Did she lose money too?”

  “That’s the big question.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure this is any of your client’s business.”

  Krystal moved slightly in the chair. Not really a squirm in one so elegant, but almost. Cate, afraid the woman might be about to end the interview, jumped away from the subject of investments. “I was quite fascinated by Doris’s unique … look. Does she always wear purple?”

  “Not always. It is her favorite color, and she always wears at least one accessory in purple. But we managed to talk her out of painting her house purple.” Krystal’s lips twitched in a suppressed smile. “I could just see it. Like a square eggplant on that little lot.”

  The comment suggested there was a certain amount of caring among the Whodunit ladies, in spite of the hostility Cate had felt that day at the house. And Cheryl’s comment about seeing them as piranhas ready to pounce on each other over a good quiche.

  Krystal shook her head. “Poor Doris.”

  Cate used the connection to edge back into the subject of investments. “She was the one who lost the most money?”

  “Her loss might not have been an exorbitant amount to some of us, but it certainly was to her. I didn’t care to discuss details of my finances with the other women, so I didn’t ask for specifics about theirs. I do know she had her money in CDs, and she took it out to make this investment.”

  “Doris didn’t seem like a person who’d invest in anything questionable.”

  “The interest rates are so pathetic now, as you undoubtedly know, and Doris needed more income than what she was getting off the bank CDs. She loved her hybrid Prius. She’s really into the going-green thing. She recycles everything. So she jumped on the idea of a vehicle with an even more advanced engine and an alternate energy source. She said the first thing she was going to do with her profits was buy one of those cars as soon as they were available.”

  “Instead she had to give up her Prius.”

  “And now she’s driving that ghastly old clunker and having to watch every penny.” Krystal reached over and adjusted the doll’s skirt by a fraction of an inch. “You think Doris pushed Amelia down those stairs, don’t you? That she was so angry about losing all that money that she just lost control.”

  “I’m not convinced Amelia’s fall was an accident,” Cate admitted. “Even though the police apparently think it was. There was something in the autopsy report that showed her mental faculties, and probably her balance, I suppose, were impaired by sleeping pills.”

  “So she wasn’t pushed.”

  “Do you think she was?”

  “It had entered my mind, of course.” Krystal unexpectedly laughed. “Which only proves I read way too many murder and thriller novels.” She motioned toward the paperback with the lurid cover. “Knowing she wasn’t pushed is a relief, of course. We wouldn’t want to think our dear friend Amelia had fallen victim to foul play.”

  “Dear friend Amelia” might express affection in words, but it came out with all the warmth of an ice cube down the back. The piranhas were coming out to play now?

  “You said something about it being a ‘big question’ whether Amelia had lost money like the rest of you did on the investment.”

  “We’re pretty sure she was getting a … I suppose it might politely be called a commission on anything the rest of us invested.”

  “But it might be called something else?”

  “A kickback. For every dollar she talked us into investing, she got a kickback.” Krystal didn’t sound so casual now about the money she’d lost.

  Losing money was no doubt enough to make all the Wh
odunit ladies unhappy. But then to find out Amelia had made money on their losses. Maybe that took the unhappiness to the anger of murder. However, there was a point of logic against that.

  “But why would Scott give Amelia a kickback when he didn’t even want to let the Whodunit ladies in on this investment anyway? Could they have been in on something together?”

  “You’re saying Amelia and Scott may have had a deliberate plan to defraud us?” Krystal touched a hand to her chest. “That’s a very serious accusation!”

  “I’m not accusing,” Cate said hastily. “Just, uh, thinking out loud. Of course, another thought is that maybe Amelia’s financial situation wasn’t as plush as everyone believed, and Cheryl talked her husband into helping her aunt out with a schedule of commissions.”

  “I never saw much evidence that Cheryl was all that concerned about Amelia’s welfare. She’s so busy trying to hold on to that husband of hers that she didn’t have much time for Amelia.”

  “They have marriage problems?” Cate hadn’t seen any signs of discord. Scott had, in fact, seemed quite solicitous, determined to get the cat back if that was what Cheryl wanted.

  “He’s younger, of course,” Krystal said, as if that made for obvious suspicion. “There are also rumors Scott has a roving eye. Of course, that may simply be malicious gossip.”

  “Malicious gossip among the Whodunit ladies?”

  Krystal waved a hand, dismissing the question. “Of course, we may simply have been wrong about the kickback thing. I’m trying to remember how it first came up …” Krystal stood and paced to the window. “It was Texie who said it, I think. Yes, definitely Texie.”

  “Where would she get that kind of information?”

  “She said at the time that she had a ‘confidential source.’ But she may have just made it up because she wanted to cause trouble for Amelia.”

  “Because of Radford.”

  Krystal’s genteel laugh came out more of a bark this time. “Maybe someone should have pushed Radford down a flight of stairs. We were a much happier group before he came along and caused trouble.”

  “At this point, do you think there were kickbacks involved?”

  “At this point, what does it matter? Amelia’s dead.”

  “Scott isn’t. Maybe you should go to the police. Aren’t kickbacks illegal?”

  “Look, Miss Kinkaid, I’m planning a trip to Connecticut to visit my sister in a few weeks. I am not going to get stuck here in some long, drawn-out court case concerning Scott Calhoun’s business dealings. Which were probably perfectly legitimate anyway. At this point I’m thinking Texie did just make up the whole thing about kickbacks.”

  Krystal suddenly yanked the book out of the doll’s hands. “I have a lovely spring outfit for Camille. I don’t know why I haven’t changed her into it before now. I always keep her up to date with the seasons. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to unpack her spring things right now. You can show yourself out?”

  “Of course. I did want to ask—”

  “I’ve already given you more time than I have available.” Krystal lifted her arm and made a point of looking at the gold watch on her left wrist, as if dressing Camille was more important than bad investments. Or murder.

  “Well, thanks for your time.” Cate found herself giving the doll a little good-bye wave as she left the room.

  As she drove home, Cate felt more confused than ever. She didn’t have Uncle Joe’s talent for detecting evasiveness, and separating the good guys from the bad ones seemed to be getting even more difficult. It occurred to her that Krystal herself wasn’t above suspicion. She could be considerably angrier with Amelia over the investment loss than she was letting on. Kickback had enough venom in it to stock a viper’s den.

  The next couple of days were taken up with getting started on the new cases for Uncle Joe. One involved a client in Seattle who, in doing genealogical research on her family, had discovered she had several relatives in Eugene. She wanted photos of their homes before she contacted them. Apparently she didn’t want to claim relatives who turned out to live in old trailers with wheel-less cars on concrete blocks in the yard. Cate took three photos, all of satisfactorily upscale houses, printed them out with the computer, and mailed them to her.

  She applied for a job with a local plant nursery, but they were not favorably impressed with her past experience, which consisted solely of weeding her dad’s garden years ago. And she didn’t even confide in them that she’d pulled up all the young radishes because she couldn’t tell them from weeds. But she did find a new site on the internet on which to leave her résumé.

  Mostly she tried to decide what to do about Kyle and the coming weekend. She discussed it with Rebecca. She prayed about it. Hey, Lord, straighten me out here. What am I supposed to do? She even asked Octavia’s opinion. But she received no helpful instructions anywhere. Octavia even stalked off, dragged Rowdy to her cat bed, and slept there that night. Apparently she specialized in PI problems, not advice to the lovelorn.

  The following morning, Willow called. She wanted to bring Cate some things she’d gleaned from Amelia’s closet. Cate was not particularly interested. She murmured something about a report she had to write for the files on the genealogy woman and added, “I don’t think I could wear anything of Amelia’s anyway. She was rather larger than I am.”

  “Amelia was always intending to lose weight, and she had this whole section of skinny clothes in her closet. I think she had this fantasy of getting back the figure she had when she was twenty or something. I also found out what Radford was doing here that day and why he and Cheryl were so furious with each other.”

  Which did interest Cate.

  14

  Cate gave Willow directions to the house, and she arrived in less than twenty minutes. She came to the door lugging a cardboard box. The first thing she said was, “You know what? I forgot that sack of cat food. But I did bring chocolate chip cookies.”

  She tilted the box, and Cate caught the plastic bag of cookies before it hit the floor.

  “Octavia can wait for the cat food,” Cate said. “She isn’t going hungry.”

  The well-fed feline sniffed at the clothing when Willow spread it on Cate’s bed. Cate wondered if she recognized Amelia’s scent. Did cats have sentimental thoughts about the past? Maybe. Octavia picked out a fuzzy sweater and curled up on it.

  Even if the clothes were from Amelia’s “skinny” wardrobe, they were still too large for Cate. But there were a few items she could actually use. A cashmere scarf with metallic strands. A chain belt with a length that adjusted to Cate’s waist size. A loose muumuu thing in a tropical pattern, one size fits all, that Rebecca might be able to use. Cate set them aside to keep.

  “And then there’s this!” Willow pulled a last item from the box, a blonde wig, the hair long and tousled.

  “I’m not going to wear that!”

  “I know. I just brought it along to show you because I was so astonished when I found it.” Willow giggled. She tossed it on the pile of discards.

  Cate boxed up everything except the sweater Octavia had chosen, and set the box aside to donate somewhere. Then at the last minute she rescued the wig. Who knew when a PI might need a blonde disguise?

  “Have Cheryl and Scott given everything else away?” Cate asked.

  “Not yet. The closet is still jammed with stuff. Actually, they haven’t been around much the last few days. I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to get a chance to eavesdrop on them.”

  “But then you did.”

  “Oh yeah. I got an earful. I tippy-toed up to Amelia’s office when they were in there. Carrying my can of window-cleaner spray and a roll of paper towels, of course, so I could look all innocent if they caught me.” Willow made a mischievous little gesture of spraying and wiping in the air. “But they were much too engrossed in arguing and worrying about Radford to notice me. Ply me with a Pepsi, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Cate felt uneasy about listenin
g to Willow’s eavesdrop information. Although it probably beat walking into personal encounters with hostile gun toters. She got Pepsis from the refrigerator, and, taking the cookies along, they went out to sit on the webbed lounge chairs in the backyard.

  “Okay, Radford was there about an engagement ring he said he’d given to Amelia. Two carat, emerald-cut diamond in the center, two diamonds on each side, white gold setting.”

  “Expensive!”

  “He told them he and Amelia were supposed to get married in a couple months, but, under the circumstances, he wanted the ring back. Cheryl told him she’d never seen any such ring. He accused them of having the ring and cheating him out of it. They accused him of making up a story about a ring and trying to con them.”

  “Con them how?”

  “By trying to make the estate reimburse him for a ring that never existed.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Who knows? Radford is sleazy enough to try something like that. But I wouldn’t put it past Cheryl to claim the ring doesn’t exist even if she found it somewhere. But I can’t imagine that if Amelia had such a ring, she wasn’t flaunting it.”

  “You never saw it?”

  “No. Amelia had mentioned we’d be throwing a big party soon, though, so maybe she was managing to keep the ring under cover until she could have a big unveiling at an engagement party.”

  “So maybe it’s a question of who’s trying to con whom.”

  But another thought unexpectedly jabbed Cate. She didn’t want to distrust Willow. She liked her look-alike. But Willow had been known to dance around the truth, and now there was another missing ring. Could Willow be letting Cheryl and Radford feud over the ring … and she had it?

  “And you didn’t want me to take this job and miss all these soap-opera doings.” Willow socked Cate with a playful punch on the shoulder.

  “They aren’t saying anything yet about how long the job will last? Maybe you should start looking for something else before this one ends. Cheryl will probably give you a good recommendation letter to add to those you already have.”