by Cindy Sample
Was there a subtle way of asking Cherie if she once stalked the murder victim?
Nope.
“Sounds like you might have had a bad breakup,” I said, trying to sound more like a sympathetic mom than an investigating detective.
Her eyes flashed. “Gregg was a…” She continued on using a descriptive vocabulary a sailor would have been proud of.
My, my, such a potty mouth on this beautiful young woman. But at least I confirmed her ex-boyfriend’s name was Greg. Or was it Gregg?
“Well, it sounds like you might be better off without this Gregg person,” I reassured her. “He’s not bothering you, is he?”
She shook her head so vehemently one of her long curls almost smacked me in the face. As I stepped back, I barely heard Cherie mutter to herself.
“That SOB will never bother me again.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Cherie flushed when she saw my face and realized I overheard her remark.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything about my ex. It was inappropriate.”
She was correct, but the more inappropriate the better, from my point of view. Would she next reveal she’d offed her ex? Instead, Cherie morphed into the perfect professional, reviewing some of the basic loan requirements with me.
My eyebrows lifted when I scrolled down to the last line of the agreement and noticed the percentage rate listed in a pale blue font.
“Whoa. Twenty-five percent interest and a five percent loan fee?”
Cherie shrugged. “If you want a lower rate then go to your local bank. We are basically a lender of last resort.” She looked at her watch. “I need to head to the casino soon. Do you want to take the paperwork with you and come back when you’re ready?”
I said yes and thanked her for her time. I crammed the documents in my overstuffed purse and was about to leave when I thought of an important question.
“Cherie, what happens if someone can’t repay their loan on time?”
A voice behind me boomed, “Then we break their kneecaps.”
I shrieked and dropped my purse, the contents bouncing off the glass display cases and onto the floor. When I bent over to retrieve the items, I ended up nose to nose with a cigar-chewing, bald-headed man.
“Sorry, miss. A little pawnshop humor.” The man stood and handed over my lipstick and business card holder. He gazed down at my skirt, which in the kerfuffle had inched its way up my thighs.
“And we would definitely not break those lovely kneecaps,” he said with an expansive smile that made his cigar bobble up and down before it settled against his thick lips. Then he held out his hand. “I’m Louie.”
“I appreciate your, um, restraint, Louie. Thanks for the help, Cherie.” I dumped the assorted items into my purse and scurried out of the pawnshop/lending operation.
Once outside, I shook myself like a dog, hoping any slimy remnants of my visit would shake off. I hustled to my car and scrubbed my hands with antibacterial soap while I sat in the driver’s seat, attempting to assimilate everything I’d learned in the past hour.
Cherie, presumably Gregg Morton’s ex-girlfriend, was ticked off big-time with the man. But could or would the young woman have killed him?
Cherie worked at the pawnshop that lent a ton of money to Gino. Did the loan have anything to do with his death? Louie had definitely been acquainted with Gino. Could he have been involved in Gino’s demise? Although offing a borrower isn’t the best way to receive payment on a loan.
I glanced at my watch. Having driven this far, I probably should go home via the south shore of Lake Tahoe. I could stop in at Timeshare Help and see if that very helpful Marty had anything more to share about Cherie. I could also stop at the Tahoe P.D. and see if Detective Ali Reynolds wanted to share anything more with me on either murder case.
The likelihood of that happening was even less than of me winning the Powerball lottery.
I arrived at the timeshare office at two thirty. I breathed a sigh of relief when I didn’t spot Kimberly’s SUV in the parking lot. I slipped out of the car, locked the door, then unlocked it again. I leaned over and removed the remains of my lunch—a few stray fries and a diet cola. I didn’t want to meet up with any more bears this time.
I walked into the timeshare office and deposited my garbage in their wastebasket. Both Marty and another man seated in the cubicle behind him were on the phone. Marty looked up and smiled at me. He either remembered me from our previous meeting or he was just plain friendly.
I lowered myself into a chair and riffled through the pages of a Tahoe magazine, my eyes landing on the summertime activities offered at Heavenly Valley. We’d have to bring the kids up here this summer for at least one weekend.
I leaned my head back in the chair and closed my eyes. So many activities. So little time. So many killers…So little…
I jumped when a hand landed on my shoulder, disturbing my murderous reverie.
“Hello there. You’re back,” said Marty. He looked around. “You didn’t bring your friend?”
“Not this time. But she’s still interested in buying some timeshares from you.” Marty’s smile grew even broader, the tiny piece of spinach wedged between his front teeth giving him a gap-toothed grin.
“So what brings you to Tahoe?” he asked.
“You were so persuasive the last time Liz and I were here, I’ve been thinking of purchasing a week or two myself. But I don’t really have the money to do it, even at some of the reduced prices. I wondered what type of financing someone could get on a resale timeshare.”
“Of course we can procure a loan for you. Timeshare Help is a full-service company.” Marty ushered me to his cubicle. I relaxed into a chair while he gathered some handouts for me.
“This finance company is a subsidiary of Timeshare Help,” he said. “Their rates are far better than using a credit card.”
“Is it difficult to qualify?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Piece of cake. Do you work? You seem to be up here a lot.”
“Yes, my husband and I own a detective agency.”
He sat back and stared at me. “Wow. A real live P.I. Cool.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Are you working on any cases up here?”
“We have a few high-profile cases we’re involved in. For instance, we’re trying to collect information on your former associate, Gregg Morton. You mentioned previously his ex, a woman named Cherie, was stalking him. Do you know if she actually threatened to hurt him?”
Marty pursed his lips and pondered for a few seconds. “Cherie’s a cute gal, very sharp. But one day Gregg was listening to his voicemails with his phone on hands free while he replied to some emails, and a message from Cherie came on loud and clear. She certainly didn’t mince words. In fact, as I recall, she threatened to turn Gregg’s”—Marty blushed, then continued—“uh, member into mincemeat.”
“Ouch. What about Kimberly, your manager?” I asked. “I think you said she also dated Gregg.”
Marty shrugged. “Kimberly comes on kind of strong, but I can’t see her harming Gregg just ’cause he didn’t want to go out with her anymore. Despite his flaws, Gregg was a great salesman. Made a ton of money for the firm. Kimberly wouldn’t do anything to screw up her bottom line.”
I was about to ask a question regarding Gregg’s sales activities when the door to the timeshare office banged open.
Darn. Just the person I wanted to avoid.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Kimberly strode into the office, fingers furiously texting away, completely ignoring Marty and me.
Whew. I had way more questions for Marty and I knew the minute Kimberly saw us together, she’d throw me out the door. Unfortunately, Marty didn’t understand the complexities of investigating a murder because he called out to her.
“Hey, Kimberly. This woman’s investigating Gregg’s murder. You got any ideas who bumped him off?”
Kimberly whirled around, sending me her customary glare. “Are you here again?�
�
“She’s here officially,” Marty explained. “Trying to figure out who killed Gregg.”
“Seriously?” she asked. I could see her eyebrows attempting to create a frown, but her botoxed brow refused to cooperate. “Oh, you’re trying to get your granny off the hook. Good luck with that.”
“Please join us,” I said, patting the chair next to me. “I’m sure you have some ideas who did it. Besides my grandmother.”
A wave of Chanel perfume filled the cubicle as Kimberly plopped her annoyingly tight butt onto the other visitor chair. “Why should we help you?” she snapped at me.
“Why shouldn’t you?”
“Fine. Whatever. Gregg was an excellent salesperson. Quite the charmer,” she said drily. “He could flirt with the best of them. As for little old ladies, and even men, he was persuasive enough to talk them into buying shares of the Brooklyn Bridge if we had any to sell.” She slumped against the back of the chair. “We will miss him,” she said softly.
“Is there anyone who disliked him besides Cherie, his ex?”
“That psycho bitch?” Kimberly’s high-pitched voice rose even higher. “I wouldn’t put it past her. Hers was the first name I gave to the detectives.”
“Anyone else?”
“Gregg liked the party scene, the white stuff, you know.” I shook my head in confusion, so she pointed to her nostrils. “Cocaine.”
“So maybe he had a beef with a supplier?” I ventured.
“Possibly.” She cocked her head to the left in the direction of Palomino’s restaurant. “You can check out our local pizza king. Rumor has it he dabbles in drugs.”
“How about that couple who came into the office a few times,” Marty suggested. “The husband got real angry with Gregg. Said he sold him a bill of goods. Do you know what that was about, Kimberly?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about them. Every now and then we get a few dissatisfied customers who don’t read the fine print and don’t feel like they got a good deal. It seems to me this couple purchased a week from us at one of the Tahoe resorts, then a month later they found a similar unit for sale for five thousand less. The husband was royally ticked off.”
“Can your company do anything to make it up to them?” I asked. “Give them a partial refund?”
“It’s just plain luck. Some sellers are more desperate than others. You never know what will come on the market next. Kind of like the regular housing market. Constantly in flux.”
“Any chance I could get their names so I could talk to them?”
Kimberly sighed. “I suppose I can track down their names. If I get the information for you, will you leave us alone?”
Silly woman. She had no idea what a pain in the butt I could be. But I merely nodded. She got up and walked down the hall to her office.
“You’re a really good detective,” Marty said admiringly. He pointed to a family photo of him and four women, three of whom I assumed were his daughters. “My middle daughter loves reading those Nancy Drew books.”
“You have a lovely family. My oldest is going off to college this fall. I’m going to miss her.”
“It’s tough sending them off to college. My daughter just finished her first year at UNLV.” He picked up the picture again. “They grow up way, way too fast.”
I nodded in agreement, then stood to leave. While I was anxious to find out the name of their disgruntled customers, I also wanted to get Kimberly alone. I walked down the hall to her office and sat in one of the visitor chairs.
“I’m still looking,” she said, pointing toward the door. “Wait in the lobby, please.”
I ignored her. “As Marty mentioned, I’m a detective. We’re working on another murder that occurred up here recently. A man by the name of Gino Romano. Were you acquainted with him?”
“Of course not. I don’t hang out with murder victims.” When I raised my brows, she replied. “Okay, one exception was Gregg. But I don’t know this Gino guy.”
“Are you sure?” I asked before I showed her a photo on my phone.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Kimberly blanched. “Where, I mean, when did you take that photo? Have you been following me?”
“No. Should I?”
She recovered quickly. “Of course not. The only reason I didn’t admit I knew Gino was that I…I met him through an online dating site.” She glared at me. “Are you happy now?”
I couldn’t understand why these women were so reluctant to admit they’d used an online site. First, Adriana was hesitant to own up to it. And now Kimberly.
“Lots of women meet their future husbands through dating sites,” I commented.
“Yes, but look at me.” Kimberly stood, displaying all of her wares for my inspection. Like she was auditioning for The Bachelor.
“So what’s the deal with Gino?” I asked. “Did you two date for a while?”
“Barely. Our first meetup was at Harrah’s. We arranged a day when he’d be up here on business. We had a couple more dates before he told me he’d met the woman of his dreams.”
“Really?”
She rolled her eyes. “Really. So cliché, although I think Gino meant it.”
“Why did you meet with him the night before he was killed?”
“Well, even though I wasn’t”—she made air quotes—“his ‘dream woman,’ I admired his financial acumen. So I invested some of my savings with him. It was merely a brief client meeting.”
I stared at her. How consummate of a liar was this woman? She worked at a timeshare resale company so she must have excellent fibbing skills when it came to potential customers. But her words rang true. I also sensed an underlying sadness when she admitted Gino met someone he preferred over her.
“Didn’t Marty say you also dated Gregg?” I asked.
“Yes. Briefly. He charmed me into a fling a few months back, then broke it off suddenly. I was hurt for about two seconds, then relieved. It was time to find someone who was interested in a commitment, not just casual sex.”
She mumbled under her breath. “Really great sex.”
“You realize you’ve dated both Tahoe murder victims.”
“Merely a coincidence. I was at a meeting with Marty the morning of Gregg’s death. In fact, Gregg was supposed to join us but he never showed up. Then we found out why.” She picked up a pencil and fiddled with it.
“What about your relationship with Gino. Is the Tahoe P.D. aware you dated him?”
“How would I know?”
“You didn’t bother to inform them?”
“Look, Nancy Drew, no one asked me about Gino and I saw no reason to call them up and inform them I was a client of his. Along with hundreds of other clients. If they bother to search his client database, they’ll run across my name eventually. Besides, the news said he was killed by some guy who jumped off the gondola before anyone could catch him. So why are you wasting my time?” She frowned and her knuckles grew white as she transferred her irritation to the pencil she was holding. The soft-leaded Number 2 favorite couldn’t take the strain. It broke in half, and the sharp point flew across her desk, bounced off my sternum and disappeared into my cleavage.
Kimberly snickered while I shifted in my seat, hoping the piece of lead would eventually drop to the floor.
No such luck. I asked for the location of their restroom and Kimberly pointed to the rear of the office.
Inside the restroom, I fiddled around with my bra and the tiny intruder finally bounced onto the floor. I washed my hands while wondering if I could get any more out of Kimberly today. My phone rang as I dried them.
“Mommy, are you ever coming home?” whined Ben. “Grandmother won’t let us watch cartoons. She’s making us watch the Discovery Channel.” Ben made a gagging sound. Heaven forbid the television be used as an educational tool.
“I’m almost finished up here. Behave for your grandmother. Now let me speak to her, please.”
“Are you on your way here?” Mother asked. “I’m supposed to meet clients
in an hour to list their house.”
I peeked at my watch. Ouch. Interrogating potential suspects took more time than I’d anticipated.
“I’m on my way but I won’t make it back in time. Have you checked in with Tom or your husband? Maybe they’ve wrapped up their interviews for the day.”
She sighed. “Are you sure you want to continue this new career? The hours are so erratic. And you don’t seem to be accomplishing anything.”
“That’s not true.” My voice rose as I attempted to justify today’s efforts. “These things take time. Aren’t you worried they might lock up Gran for good?”
“Don’t be silly. Obviously your grandmother didn’t kill anyone…” A loud crash interrupted our conversation. “That dog. Hurry home.”
Poor Scout. I almost felt sorry for him. For a change, I wasn’t the klutziest member of our family.
I walked out of the restroom and knocked on Kimberly’s closed door.
She looked up in annoyance. “You’re still here? We are trying to run a business, you know.”
“Of course. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as you get me the names of those angry clients. I so appreciate your help.”
Five minutes later, with the name and address of a couple named Lankershim, I trotted down the hallway and headed for my car. I would have loved to stick around just to annoy Kimberly some more. But Mother’s call made me think another crime had been committed at the house.
By a klutzy and shaggy felon.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Once in my car, I debated whether I really wanted to drive home to the chaos represented by my domestic life. I glanced at Palomino’s Pizza. It was still early, not quite the dinner rush hour, but there was a steady amount of traffic in and out of the restaurant. I would regret having to make a separate trip up to Tahoe just to interview the “pizza king” Kimberly thought sold drugs to Gregg.