An Ear for Murder

by Diane Weiner

  “I suppose they’ll be busy making funeral arrangements. Maybe I can help out.”

  “That’s a nice offer. By the way, Detective Lambert was asking about you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was trying to play it cool. He asked if your husband was in town with you.”

  “He’s a detective. He had to ask you?”

  “He’s a good looking fellow. Smart, too. Unless you and Travis have something going.”

  “Travis?” She felt her face heat up. “We’re just friends. Not even friends. I don’t even like him, he’s rude and arrogant. Besides, I’m still recuperating from my break-up with Brandon. I’m not interested in dating anyone right now.” She felt herself protesting a bit too much.

  Grandpa came into the kitchen holding his right hip. “She wouldn’t start up anything with someone of a different race! Their kids would be…”

  “Grandpa! I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “It was different when Pops was growing up.” Bob grabbed silverware from the drawer.

  “You are so racist. Times have changed, Grandpa. I don’t like Travis, but it’s not because he’s black, it’s because he’s smug and full of himself.” Although he did give me a place to stay and offer to help with my dystonia free of charge.

  Grandpa either didn’t hear, or chose to ignore her. “You got any more Aleve, Patty?”

  “In the cabinet over the sink. Didn’t I just buy you a new bottle?”

  “It’s gone. Hardly helps anyway.”

  “Dad, you have to face up to the fact you need that hip replaced. Let’s get the surgery scheduled soon.” Bob Baron sprinkled salt and pepper on the pork chops.

  “Nah. Don’t need no surgery. Where am I going, anyhow?”

  Sara spun the wet lettuce. “Travis can help. He’s a physical therapist.”

  “Help Schmelp,” mumbled Grandpa.

  “One of the ladies at church had her hip replaced last year and she’s had nothing but trouble ever since,” said Patty. “Her hair started falling out. You should see. She wears a red wig to church. Puts on a headband so it looks more real but we all know it isn’t her hair.”

  “Grandpa, do you know anything about a woman named Rosie? I found a notation in your father’s logbook about a date with Rosie.”

  “What are you talking about? You implying my father was a philanderer? He worshipped the ground my mother walked on. Don’t you go smearing his reputation.”

  Bob Baron said, “Maybe he’s right. No use digging up the past and blemishing our family’s reputation.”

  “What are you talking about, Dad?”

  Grandpa grumbled. “How long till dinner, Patty? I’m hungry.”

  “About twenty minutes. Anyone for a glass of wine?”

  “Since when do you have wine in the house?” said Sara.

  “It was a gift from Jacob next door.”

  “That was sweet of him. I’m sure he appreciates your kindness.”

  “I wish I had the time to keep him company. Poor man is so lonely and bored. He was a detective, you know. Now he sits and watches TV all day long.”

  “Too bad you can’t get him and Grandpa to keep each other company.”

  “I don’t need anyone arranging play dates for me,” said Grandpa.

  Sara ignored the comment. “Mom, have you heard the name Jailyn Peters?”

  “Yes. She’s an orthopedic doctor. That’s who I took your Grandpa to see.”

  “I heard she dated Preston Montague before Ellie and she was jealous.”

  “I may have heard that. Seems like a doctor would be more suitable as a match for a Montague than Ellie. Ellie was too good for him.”

  Chapter 9

  When Sara got back to Travis’s, she was disappointed to see the house was dark. She quickly turned off the car, ran up the porch steps, and opened the door, locking it immediately behind her. Would she always feel this shaken up? She flipped on the lights.

  “Panther. Come here, Panther.” He scampered across the floor and rubbed against her legs. Did he sense that Ellie wasn’t coming back? She’d read a story once about a cat in a hospital that sensed when a patient was about to die. He’d curl up on the bed and keep vigil until the person passed. It became so predictable that the nurses relied on him to warn them the time was near. They called the cat a guardian angel. Sara believed in angels, and the notion that animals possess a sixth sense.

  Panther meowed. She refilled his water bowl, then plopped down on the sofa to watch the news before turning in. The remote control was hiding somewhere. She checked under the cushions. She felt something sharp. A gold hoop earring. A woman’s earring. Men will be men. That’s what Grandma used to say. Why does this bother me? He’s handsome and successful. Of course, he goes out with women, probably lots of them. Besides, I don’t even like him.

  Then she remembered how the coffee table top lifted up, revealing storage underneath. She grabbed onto the edges and lifted. Voila, not one but three different remotes. Which shell is the pea hiding under?

  Before closing the lid, she noticed a notepad with a handful of names and phone numbers. She recognized the left-handed slant immediately. It was Ellie’s handwriting. Whose numbers were these and why did Travis have them?

  She closed the lid and turned on the news. Panther jumped into her lap. Poor Panther. Who was going to take him in? She wasn’t allowed pets in her San Francisco loft.

  The leading news story centered around the search for Preston Montague. They were calling him a person of interest in the Ellie Rossi murder case and appealing to viewers to call in with any information that could help locate him. A hotline number ran across the bottom of the screen.

  The reporter said, “A white BMW was seen leaving the Rossi residence around the time of the murder.” A white BMW. Not the dark sedan she had passed that night on the way to her parents’ house.

  She heard Travis’s key in the door and felt relieved to no longer be alone. He was holding a white Styrofoam container.

  “How was dinner at your parents?”

  “Fine. I helped Dad in the shop this afternoon. It was fun.”

  “I’m sure he appreciated the help.” He carried the container into the kitchen. Had he been on a date? She could smell Chinese food through the container.

  She heard the fridge door close. “You doing your exercises?”

  “Yep. I’ve got to regain control over my hand or I’m out of a job. On the news they said the police are looking for Preston Montague. Did you see a white BMW that night?”

  “No. When I got home, the driveway was empty.”

  “The door had to have been locked, but it was open when I got there. It had to be someone she knew and let in.”

  “Or someone who had a key. An ex-fiancé makes sense. By the way, I had the window repaired in the guest room, but you’re welcome to take my room if it makes you feel better being upstairs.”

  “No, I’ll be okay down here. As a matter of fact, I’m going to grab my things and turn in. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”

  Sara scooped up Panther and brought him into the guestroom. He curled up next to her pillow and she put her ear gently against him, soothed by the purring, relaxing into sleep.

  She woke up drenched in sweat, her heart racing. Thank God, it was just a nightmare.

  She’d watched her oboe being swept down a river by a monstrous current. She jumped in and tried to reach, gasping for air as the water plunged over her. Every time she got close to grabbing it, it moved further away.

  Panther was asleep next to her. She moved carefully so as not to wake him. She rummaged through her bag in the dark. I knew it was here somewhere. She pulled out her hand-made dream catcher, put it on the nightstand, then went into the bathroom for a glass of water.

  When she came back into the bedroom, she noticed light seeping in around the blinds and peeked behind them.

  Why is there a car in Ellie’s dr
iveway? A dark sedan. A Buick. Like the one that nearly ran me over. Her pulse raced. The car zoomed away. She heard the high pitched whine ramp up as the car accelerated. Breathe in, breathe out. Where’s my phone? She calmed herself and called Detective Lambert.

  “The patrol car is still in the area. Did you catch the license plate? Can you describe the driver?”

  “It was the same car that almost ran us over the night of Ellie’s murder. You have the plate number I gave you, right? Did you ever trace the number? I didn’t see the driver.”

  “The plate was registered to an old lady the next town over. She says it was stolen, though she never bothered to report it. We’ll send someone over to check it out right away. Lock the doors and sit tight.”

  Now she was wide awake. I can’t keep imposing on Travis, but I’m afraid of staying alone at Ellie’s. At the moment, yellow crime scene tape guarded the house and the police hadn’t given her the go-ahead to move in. Maybe a cup of tea would calm her nerves. Had she even seen teabags in that pristine pantry of his? She pulled on her robe and went to the kitchen.

  “Couldn’t sleep either?” Travis sat at the table wrapped in a flannel robe. A bit of chest hair peeked out over his thermal t-shirt.

  “I was having nightmares. Then, I saw a car pulling out of Ellie’s driveway. I was going to make some tea.”

  “I heard a car. I think that’s what woke me up. I assume you called the police?”

  “Yes, it was the same car that nearly ran us over.”

  “Are they sending someone over to check it out?”

  “Yes. I’m scared. Someone out there has a key to Ellie’s. Am I supposed to feel safe staying there?”

  “Tomorrow I’ll call a locksmith and get the locks changed. You can stay with me as long as you like.”

  “Thanks. You know, Ellie called me but I never saw her phone. The police didn’t find it. Do you think the killer took it?”

  “Maybe so. Here, I’ll put the kettle on.” Then he said, “Alexa, play stress list.” The kitchen echoed with Debussy.

  “I’ve been meaning to get one of those. Can you say, Alexa, cook me dinner?”

  “No, but you can tell her to call Dominos and have a pizza delivered.”

  “What made you move here from Chicago?”

  “Chicago was expensive. Cost of living is cheap here, the salary is competitive. When this offer came up, I was ready for a new beginning.”

  “A new beginning?”

  “Let’s just say I wasn’t expecting the curve ball I was pitched. Right out of left field.”

  She hated sports metaphors. “I know what you mean. Never expected my boyfriend to dump me out of the blue and start dating a co-worker. One who I considered a friend, no less. It took all my resolve not to take that violin bow of his and shove it…” Breathe in, breathe out. “My boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—was restless, as he put it. He told me I was too serious. Too boring.”

  “I can’t imagine. Self-righteous and stubborn yes, but boring, no.” He handed her a cup of tea, brushing his hand against hers as he did. She felt little sparks of electricity when the hair on his arms brushed against hers.

  “Look who’s talking. I’ve never met someone as arrogant as you. Maybe that guest conductor they had last season, but no one else. Why did you really move here?”

  “It’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it.” He pulled his arm away. “I’m going back to bed. See you in the morning.” He tugged on the kitchen door, then she heard him tug on the front door, making sure they were safely locked inside.

  She stomped back to the guest room, flipping on every light switch she passed on the way.

  Chapter 10

  After a disturbing night, Sara downed a third cup of coffee hoping to clear her head. Why did I open up to Travis about my job being in jeopardy? I’ve got to protect myself. And how am I going to hold myself together when I see Ellie’s parents later? She’d volunteered to pick up Ellie’s parents at the airport this morning. What would she say to them? I’m sorry your daughter was murdered in her own home while you were out of the country? I’m sorry the killer hasn’t been caught? She heard a knock at the door. The rental agency came to pick up the car. From now on, she’d be driving Ellie’s Nissan.

  The airport was more than an hour away. Once she hit the city, she crawled along the road, inches at a time. Rush hour. I don’t miss this about San Francisco. Fortunately, with her orchestra work hours, she’d usually managed to avoid the worst of it. Even the line getting into the airport was frustratingly slow. She squinted, trying to make out the terminals and finding the entrance to the correct parking garage.

  Ellie’s parents have been through so much. Last thing I want to do is make them wonder if I’m going to show up. Snaking upward like a tram climbing the alps, she eventually found an empty parking spot. She rushed to the gate just as the flight from Venezuela was disembarking.

  She waved. “Over here!”

  Ellie’s mother was about the age of her own mother, but appeared older with her gray hair, lack of makeup, and sun weathered skin. Ellie’s father was tall and slender, with sandy hair and emerald green eyes like Ellie’s. He spotted her first. “Sara? We’re coming.” He lugged an oversized carry-on bag behind him as they made their way through the crowd.

  Ellie’s mother hugged her. “Sara. I don’t believe this. Everyone loved her. This doesn’t make sense.”

  Her father said, “Are they positive it was her? I mean, if she was injured wasn’t it hard to tell?”

  “It was Ellie. I found her myself.”

  “You’re the one who found her?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” She wiped her eyes with her glove, hoping Ellie’s parents didn’t notice. She wanted to be strong for them.

  “Did she…did she suffer?” Ellie’s mother couldn’t catch her breath, sobbing between the words as they started toward baggage claim.

  “The police said it was quick and she felt no pain. She looked, well, peaceful.” Wow, Sara hadn’t given herself enough credit for her acting ability. She even managed to have her facial expressions match her voice. Of course, Ellie was scared. Of course, she felt pain. But her parents didn’t need to know that. “Let’s get your bags.”

  “Do they have any leads?” said Mr. Rossi.

  “Preston Montague has gone AWOL.”

  “I never liked him. I told Ellie she could do better. He was angry that she didn’t return the ring. I was with Ellie when he confronted her about it. Ellie swears she gave it back.” Ellie’s mother wiped her tears with her coat sleeve.

  They grabbed the luggage and made their way to the car.

  Mrs. Rossi said, “Ellie wasn’t herself the last time I talked to her.”

  “My wife kept saying, ‘Ellie sounds like she’s hiding something.’ I should have listened.”

  “There’s nothing you could have done, I’m sure,” said Sara. “Come, the car’s over here.”

  “While we were in town, I heard Ellie talking on the phone. Whispering, really. It sounded like some sort of drug deal, except I know my daughter and would bet my life it wasn’t that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I heard her say ‘I’ve got more but need more time.’ When she saw me, she hung up and looked like she’d been caught stealing from the cookie jar.”

  “Tell her about the closet.” Mr. Rossi nudged his wife.

  “Ellie had a lock installed on the closet door in the guest room.”

  “So she had something of value she was guarding.”

  “No, she had the lock installed on the inside of the closet.”

  “On the inside of the closet? She must have felt someone meant to harm her.”

  “I think she created one of those safe rooms. I saw that in a movie,” said Mrs. Rossi.

  “Whoever killed her was looking for something. I think it was the ring. Do you have another idea?”

  “It could have been that, but who was she talking to on the phone? She also sai
d she was thinking of buying a gun. She always hated guns.”

  “Was she afraid of Preston?”

  Mr. Rossi said, “That little wimp. Ellie wasn’t afraid of him. She had the upper hand in that relationship. I can’t see Preston having the guts to confront Ellie, let alone kill her.”

  “Honey, his family is very powerful. The ring is an heirloom and their children…no one was going to mess with a Montague heir.” Mrs. Rossi blew her nose. “I tried to convince her to come to Venezuela with us. I almost had her convinced but at the last minute she said they needed her here.”

  “Who’s they? Her job?”

  “I assume that’s what she meant.”

  “So you’re saying a member of the Montague family may have gone after Ellie either for revenge or to get back the ring.” I know she’s understandably upset, but I have to be clear on this so I can help.

  “Calling off the engagement was a huge embarrassment to the Montague family. Let alone all the money they lost canceling at the last minute,” said Mr. Rossi.

  “Money isn’t an issue for that family. Social standing and embarrassment are,” said Mrs. Rossi.

  “Why did Ellie call it off? Was he cheating on her?” Why was that my first guess? Maybe she found him boring and called it off. Good for her.

  “There was an ex-girlfriend in the picture. A doctor at the hospital. She never said directly that was why.”

  “Jailyn Peters.”

  “That’s right. Ellie was tight lipped about a lot of things, but she did let that name slip out more than once.” Mr. Rossi directed her to turn.

  Sara pulled into a recently constructed retirement community. “Which unit is it?”

  “The first on the left,” said Mrs. Rossi. “I’m thankful we got out of that house. I couldn’t bear living there knowing what happened.”

  “Come on. I’ll help you with your bags.”

  “I’ve got them, said Mr. Rossi. “You’ve been kind enough to pick us up. You must have things to do.”

  Yeah, she’d be practicing her oboe or making reeds if her life was back to normal. Truth was, her hand ached and she was having trouble unclenching her fingers even with the stretches Travis recommended.