Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books!

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  "Kind of odd that you'd up and write a big check like that." Lou kept his body language relaxed as he probed Ms. Delgatto's story. "Most people think hard before plunking down a lot of money. Especially for a property they're unfamiliar with."

  "It isn't."

  Now they were getting somewhere.

  "Isn't what?"

  "It isn't unfamiliar. For the first fifteen years of my life, I spent a part of every summer here in Stuart. My family and I often rented the upstairs apartment from Essie Feldman. I knew Essie and I loved her shop."

  He frowned. "Most people don't go around writing checks for large dollar amounts on the spot. How'd you happen to have that much money in your checking account? You always so flush with cash?"

  "I recently sold my home in St. Louis."

  "You had money to burn?"

  "That's not how I would describe—" and she paused, remembering herself. "As I have said repeatedly, I want representation."

  "No problem. We can terminate this interview," said Detective Murray. "But could you help me with one small thing? Is there anyone in St. Louis who could vouch for you? Tell me that you're a good egg and all that? Someone who knows your history?"

  The color drained from Ms. Delgatto's face. She swayed in her chair and for one amazing moment, Detective Murray thought she might faint.

  "You okay?" he prodded.

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

  "A Diet Dr Pepper," she said.

  The specificity of her request struck him as funny, but if that's what it took to pry more information from the woman, so be it. Detective Murray turned off the tape recorder and excused himself with, "Be right back."

  "What do you think?" he asked Showalter.

  "Probably same thing you do. There's something in her past that she wants to forget."

  "Right. But does that mean she's guilty of murdering Humberger?"

  "No. But it does mean you'll have to uncover what happened if you want to clear her. Whatever you learn, it might not be pretty. But you already figured that, didn't you?"

  "Yup." Detective Murray's quarters clinked their way through the vending machine. A cold plastic bottle tumbled into the trough.

  Ms. Delgatto brightened up when she saw the burgundy and white label. She thanked him and caressed the bottle before taking a drink. After regaining her composure, she glanced down at her phone and said, "Call Police Chief Robbie Holmes at this number."

  "I'll do that. A police chief? Pretty impressive."

  "Police Chief Holmes has known me all my life," she added. "Now unless you plan to arrest me, I assume I'm free to go."

  19

  "You okay?" asked Skye, as we got into her car.

  "Yeah.” I tucked Detective Murray's card into my purse. I'd also asked for and received a photocopy of my police statement. That went into the purse, too. "Could you give me a ride to my grandfather's gas station? I guess I'd better make up with him. Otherwise I might never get my car back."

  We rode in silence. Since the Gas E Bait is downtown, we arrived in no time. However, the place was closed up, and Poppy was nowhere to be found.

  "Would you mind taking me to his house?" I asked.

  "Sure," she said. "What's the address?"

  I was quiet the whole way to Poppy's. I wasn't entirely sure whether I should trust Skye or not. On one hand, she seemed to be looking out for me. On the other hand, she and Detective Murray looked at each other with barely concealed affection. The true nature of their relationship wasn't clear to me. I was all out of trusting impulses for the moment.

  "If you aren't comfortable staying at Dick's, you can come back to my place. My roommate comes home tomorrow, but you will always be welcome." Skye paused.

  "Thanks, but you've already done more than enough. Poppy and I need to work this out."

  "It's an open-ended invitation, but I do have to warn you," she continued. "It's not an ideal situation in the best of times. My roommate Terra and I have different tastes. When I moved in, she didn't have a guy, and now that she does, it can be awkward. Either they're cooing like turtledoves or fighting like banshees."

  We crossed over the railroad tracks that divided Stuart from Port Salerno. "I might as well get things settled with Poppy, so we can move on."

  "He's not really such a bad guy."

  "Poppy? He's grumpier than I ever remember."

  "I meant Lou. Detective Murray."

  "Maybe, but a cop is a cop. Most of them are in it for one thing, to get a conviction. They don't care whether they trash people's lives! They're careless. They think they're doing a public service, but they get these blinders on and forget that the harm they do—" I stopped. I'd said too much already. I shut up.

  We drove a bit in silence.

  "Well," said Skye after a while, "you are right about your grandfather. I've noticed that when Dick comes into the deli, and he's hungry, he's snappish and forgetful. When did he last get checked by a doctor?"

  "Beats me." I knew I should care, but at the moment, I didn't. I was upset and depressed. Poppy wasn't really my problem.

  Except that he was.

  I leaned my forehead against the passenger side window, savoring the cool of the glass against my skin. Of course, Poppy was my problem. He was family. I'd get over this hump, this hassle, and we'd move on.

  Dad once said that families are like a train except that the cars can't be uncoupled. The engines change as one generation hands over leadership to the next, but the cars are joined for the long haul, even going over bad rails and rough crossings, they shudder along through good weather and bad.

  Skye smiled over at me. "It's going to be all right, Cara. The Universe is testing your resolve. Whenever we make a change, the static forces align and form this wall. We have to tear it down or climb over it. As we do, we get stronger."

  "I'm not especially interested in being stronger. I've been taking care of everyone and everything for more than a year now, since my mom was first diagnosed with cancer. In the past six months, I've lost my mother, my father, and my dog. My kid went off to college. I've been strong, Skye, but now I'm tired. Really tired. "

  "How can I help?" She turned off of Cove Road and into the Manatee Creek subdivision.

  I stared out the window as we drove by the entrance. It looked to me like it had been newly landscaped. I didn't remember a kiddy park.

  "Better yet, what can you do for yourself?" Skye asked, as she pulled into Poppy's drive. "You have to take care of yourself or you won't be able to get through this. I can see your aura is thin. You need propping up."

  Just what I needed, a psychic consult. As kind as she had been to me, right now I'd had enough of Skye and her advice.

  "When I'm upset, I like to clean. Organize stuff. Make plans," I said, hoping to shut her up.

  "Is that what you do for fun?"

  I opened my mouth to snap at her, but the expression of kindness on her face stopped me. Skye was my only friend here in Stuart. Sure, she was full of advice, but she meant well. The gentle light that shone from her eyes lifted my load. A little.

  "Truth is, I don't know what to do for fun. I've never taken the time to think about that. I appreciate all you've done for me. You've been a blessing, Skye. I owe you. The tip I left doesn't cover it! How can I repay you?"

  Her eyes danced with happiness. "You'll think of something."

  20

  Lou was pleased to learn that the Hal Humberger autopsy had been given a high priority by Medical Examiner Reece Farraday. Tucking the phone under his ear, Lou readied his pen and paper to take notes on what Dr. Farraday found. The official report wouldn't be ready until later.

  "Thanks for sending this stiff my way," drawled Farraday, a Georgia transplant. "Made a nice change of pace from your usual old farts dying in their beds 'naturally' while their trophy wives watch over them. I tell you, Detective, there's a simple honesty in bonking someone over the head."

  Lou hated this
sort of loose banter. To his mind, the dead deserved respect. Reverence. He had to bite his tongue rather than shout, "They have feelings, too!" Of course, he realized how silly that would sound.

  "Your victim was dealt a neat blow," Farraday continued. "No muss, no fuss. No bloody mess either. He was dead before he hit the ground."

  "You mean the floor. Hal Humberger was dead before he hit the floor."

  "Actually, I meant the concrete."

  "Excuse me? We found him in a building over off of Ocean Boulevard. There's a wooden floor. Parts are covered with linoleum, but it’s peeling off. I've seen it."

  "Right, and your victim collapsed on a concrete surface. I can tell by the abrasions on his forehead. There were also scuff marks on the toes of his shoes. A shard of gravel inside one of them. Dust on the knees of his pants. Mr. Humberger was dragged along concrete. Did your building have a poured concrete floor anywhere inside? Maybe in a basement?"

  "No."

  "I'm telling you that you have a crime scene, but you haven't found the scene of the crime," Farraday said.

  Lou gnashed his teeth. "Crime scenes" are places related to the commission of a crime. "Scene of the crime" is the specific place where a crime occurred.

  "Dr. Farraday, are you saying that Hal Humberger was killed somewhere other than The Treasure Chest building? And transported?"

  "Bingo! Ding-ding-ding! You win a stuffed toy!" shouted the Medical Examiner. "Yep. He was deposited at a secondary crime scene."

  "All right," said Lou. "So the cause of death is a blow to the head?"

  "An intracerebral hemorrhage caused by a subdural hematoma."

  "What's the murder implement?"

  "Blunt object, as you guessed. I'm pretty certain it was that wrench one of your boys tagged and brought in. The head of the tool matched the wound. In theory at least. We have a few more reports to finish before I can tell you for sure, but I'd lay odds on Mr. Humberger on a concrete floor with a wrench."

  This further irritated Lou because he knew that the ME was misquoting the game of Clue. The accusation always included the name of the suspect, not the victim.

  With a tired wave of the hand that Farraday couldn't see through the phone, Lou dismissed the man's attempt to be coy.

  "The time of death?" Lou persisted.

  "There is a small problem with that," Farraday said.

  "Problem?"

  "Because it was so hot in the building where the body was found, it's more difficult to provide a precise time of death."

  "What are you saying?"

  "The actual time of death could be a few hours earlier, or a little later, but I'm guessing it happened three hours before he was found."

  "Great. So we don't really know the exact time of death?"

  "Unfortunately, that's correct."

  Hanging up the phone, Lou Murray shook his head. Rather than reducing the number of suspects in the case, the ME's call had made the list even larger.

  21

  While Skye waited for me in her car, I stood on Poppy's stoop and rang his doorbell for the third time. His truck was parked under the carport, so I suspected he was home. The windows of the house were dirty, and I couldn't see inside. His grass needed mowing, and a huge fire ant mound spilled over onto his sidewalk.

  The once colorful hibiscus border under his front windows showed little inclination toward blooming. The branches had turned knotty and wood-like. Paint was peeling off the molding around his windows.

  "Is it possible his doorbell doesn't work?" Skye called to me from her driver's side window.

  I pounded on the door. Finally, the deadbolt moved. My grandfather smiled at me.

  "Been thinking about you," he said.

  "May I come in?" I shifted my purse and tightened my grip on my things.

  "Sure."

  I waved goodbye to Skye and watched as she carefully backed her black Mustang into the street. I had her cell number in my phone. If Poppy didn't want me, or if he threw me out, I could call her.

  To my relief, his face brightened as he motioned for me to follow him inside. But as I stepped over the threshold, I thought I'd be sick. The house smelled of dirty hair, unwashed clothes, and rotting food. As bad as Dick's Gas E Bait had been, the mess in my grandfather's home was even worse. When I followed him into his family room, I noticed plates of dried food on end tables. Every surface was covered with newspapers, magazines, clothes, and food wrappers.

  I swallowed down my revulsion and thought about my conversation with Skye. Hadn't I told her that I liked to clean house when I was upset?

  Yes, I had.

  Well, here was my opportunity. I could start with the Gas E Bait and then tackle this pigsty. Me and my big mouth.

  "Did you hear that Hal Humberger died?" I asked.

  I waited for Poppy's reaction with my heart in my throat. Was it possible that my grandfather had gone from being angry with me to being angry with Mr. Humberger? Had an argument between them escalated into a murder?

  "What?" He cupped his ear.

  "Hal Humberger is dead."

  Poppy literally reeled in shock, falling backwards into his favorite recliner.

  "You okay?" I ran to his side.

  "When?" He stared at me.

  "Last night."

  "Heart attack?" asked my grandfather. "He was young for one, but he ate like a pig at a trough. Philomena was on him all the time to lose some weight."

  "No."

  "Not a heart attack? Car accident?"

  "No."

  "Then what?"

  "The police think he was murdered. In fact, I found the body."

  "You what?" Poppy's face turned pale.

  "Found the body. After you left, I ate my dinner. Took a while because Pumpernickel's was busy. Took a while for the check, too. Then I figured I'd sleep at Essie's, because that was the only place I could think of to go."

  "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, and I plumb forgot you didn't have a car. You shoulda called me."

  "My cell phone was dead," I explained. "I had Tommy's sleeping bag in my trunk, so I thought I'd just roll it out and sleep on the floor of The Treasure Chest."

  "You had keys to that place? I figured you'd called a cab and gone and found yourself a hotel. Thought you decided to teach me a lesson."

  "Mr. Humberger had given me the keys, but I didn't even need them. The door was unlocked. When I went in, I tripped over him. His body."

  "That must have put a scare into you, girl.” Poppy shook his head. "Your daddy would punch me square in the nose, for putting you in a situation like that. What'd you do after you found him?"

  I explained about running and fetching Skye, about her calling the police, and about my interview with Detective Lou Murray last night and again this morning.

  "You shouldn't have said a thing."

  "I know, I know! I was tired and not thinking straight." I reached up and rubbed my temples. "Thank goodness Skye offered me a place to stay. She even fed me breakfast. Poppy, have you eaten today? No? How about if I spring for lunch? Afterwards, maybe you could drop me off at Hal Humberger's real estate office."

  "You still planning on keeping that dump of a building?" This time there was a twinkle in his eye as he stood up and searched his pockets for his keys.

  "Maybe. Haven't decided yet."

  "After we eat, you can drop me off at work and take my truck," he said. "I can tell you where Humberger Real Estate is."

  His Toyota truck was tidier than the house but not by much. I scooped a pile of fast food paper bags onto the floor to clear the passenger's seat. For a neatnik like me, this sort of mess was torture.

  Fingers crossed, Black Beauty would be up and running soon.

  "How many people work at the Humberger Real Estate Agency?"

  We’d stopped moving when we got to the corner of Cove Road and Dixie Highway. Some genius had installed a totally confusing round-about. You couldn’t even see where the other cars entered the traffic circle, so y
ou had to sit for several turns. The result was a totally confusing obstacle that brought traffic to a standstill. Maybe that was the point.

  Poppy pursed his lips and thought a minute. "Let's see. There's Hal. His wife Philomena. The secretary, LaDonna. A couple of part-time agents, I think. Might be someone there today who can talk to you about that contract. On the other hand, maybe not. Could go either way."

  Drat. I was well and truly stuck here in Stuart.

  22

  Poppy suggested that we eat at a little café close to his house. I was still embarrassed about our scene at Pumpernickel's, so I agreed to try a new spot with him, even though the place didn’t look promising.

  The coffee wasn't great, but it was passable after I dosed it liberally with milk and sugar. When the barely edible food came, I found myself missing my family's restaurant. I choked up thinking about Mom, Dad, and me, and all the good times we'd shared. Fortunately, Poppy didn't notice how emotional I was getting. He turned all his attention to pouring more ketchup on his fries.

  "It looks like your house could use a good cleaning," I said when I got my feelings in check.

  "It's getting harder and harder to keep up with everything," said Poppy. "Of course, all that I own will be yours someday. Including the gas station. Although now that you've got Essie's building, you don't need two teardowns."

  "The Treasure Chest isn't a teardown," I said.

  "Huh," he said through a mouthful of food.

  In my heart, I'm a bit of a green crusader. If you have a sound reason for the demolition, that's one thing, but to tear down an existing building for the sake of tearing it down, is wasteful and bad for the environment. In addition to the dust, noise, and disruption, there are unseen hazards exposed. All those broken bricks, crumpled concrete blocks, ducts, wires and bits of insulation wind up in landfills. Asbestos and lead paint pose yet another set of problems.

  "It's probably time for me to retire," he added.

  "Oh, no, you don't. You aren't retiring yet," I said.

  His grin was sheepish. "You worried I'll pick up golf and wear pink shorts?"