Dying for a Deal

by Cindy Sample

Plus, I could use a soda for the long drive home. I slipped out of my car and walked over to the pizza parlor. Once inside, my eyes adjusted to the cool darkness. The tables were half full so maybe the Tahoe crowd preferred early bird dining. Or maybe they offered a happy hour pizza special.

  Two men in their twenties walked out of a back room, chuckling with one another. A few seconds later, Bruno Palomino emerged, a satisfied smile on his face. He walked around the counter, headed to the cash register and asked me what I wanted to order.

  Shoot. I was so unprepared. Should I order a veggie pizza or something more exotic?

  Like cocaine or ecstasy.

  I leaned in and whispered that I had a special request. He moved closer as I murmured in his ear.

  “I want a dozen Maggies,” I said and then winked at him. Surely he’d know what I meant.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, looking confused.

  Hmmm. I needed to pay more attention to my TV crime shows. Maybe those pills weren’t called Maggies after all.

  “I mean Margies.” This time I winked twice, which did nothing to wipe the confused expression off his face. Then it clicked.

  “Are you saying you want to buy some Mollys?” he asked before looking me up and down.

  “Mollys? Are you sure?” I asked.

  He grabbed a dish towel and began cleaning the counter. “Look, lady, we sell pizza and beer. That’s all we offer.” He moved closer, his handsome face darkening. “Now please leave before…”

  I didn’t need the “pizza king” to elaborate any further. I fled out the door, jumped into my car and was headed home on Highway 50 before you could say “drug baron.”

  I put the pedal to whatever metal my four-cylinder Subaru could manage and reflected on the day’s activities as I maneuvered the car around the curves. The SUV wasn’t as agile as Liz’s convertible, but the mileage of the vehicle more than made up for its lack of vroom vroom.

  My cell rang and I was tempted to ignore it, but I knew Adriana would just keep calling so I might as well find out what she wanted.

  “Where are you?” she asked. “Are you working on our case?”

  “Of course. You’re my top priority,” I replied, muttering “mostly” under my breath.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing important. I interviewed some of the staff at the pawnshop where Gino borrowed money.”

  “And?”

  And I learned pawnshops make a pile of money on the backs of their customers, the people who can least afford to pay their usurious rates and fees. But what did that have to do with Gino’s untimely death?

  “And it was helpful. Now why are you calling? Aren’t you at work?”

  “I left the office early today. I’m having a tough time getting anything done at work. I talked to that homicide detective who’s handling his case, but she wouldn’t share anything with me.”

  “Did she say she wouldn’t or she couldn’t?” I asked, speculating that Adriana must have spoken with Ali.

  “What’s the difference? I feel so”—she paused for a few seconds—“helpless. Like I should be doing something. I don’t even know who they’ll release his body to or when they’ll do it.”

  “Didn’t Gino have any family?”

  “He said his parents were gone and he didn’t have any siblings. But maybe he lied about that, too. So I don’t know if I should be planning a memorial service or….” Her voice broke and I waited for her soft crying to let up before replying.

  “What would you like me to do next?” I asked. She thought for a few seconds.

  “I came up with a great idea,” she replied, sounding perkier.

  “Okay…” I said, sounding way less perky than my client. Having worked for Adriana for almost six months, I knew she and I didn’t always agree on what she considered a “great idea.”

  “I think we should go back to that dive bar together. You know, the one where you saw Gino and those biker guys meet and exchange that parcel. Between you and me, I’m sure we can coax them into sharing information with us. What do you think?”

  I opened my mouth to tell her exactly what I thought of her lame-brained idea but instead slammed on my brakes with all the force of my size nine shoes. My head whiplashed toward the steering wheel and back to the seat as the Subaru narrowly missed colliding with an RV that had stopped in front of me. As I caught a panic-stricken breath, I watched a young deer spring across the highway and leap down the slope toward the river.

  “Laurel, are you there?” Adriana shouted. “Isn’t that an awesome idea?”

  With my heart pounding from my near miss with a vehicle three times my size, all I could reply was “sure.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  After my near-collision, I shut off my phone. I didn’t need any more distractions on the way home. Especially distractions like Adriana, who was quickly turning into the client from hell.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled into the driveway. I’d survived an almost car crash, and whatever Scout had broken couldn’t be too disastrous. It’s not like we owned anything valuable.

  Then I walked into the house and discovered Scout had chased after Pumpkin. While the cat had found a safe location on top of our buffet, Scout’s tail had taken down an entire wine rack, which in and of itself was no big deal. It was the eight destroyed bottles that comprised this personal crisis.

  It takes a lot to drive me to tears, but the loss of my favorite chardonnay almost did it. Amazingly enough, Scout had scooted away from the wreckage before the bottles shattered, so we didn’t have to remove any pieces of glass from his oversized paws. Mother, the Queen of Clean, had disposed of the entire mess by the time I arrived home.

  “Scout is kind of a klutz, huh, Mom,” Ben said as we stared at the dozing dog sprawled on the carpet. Although I had a feeling he was just pretending to sleep. The cat maintained her perch, calmly licking one paw.

  “Yeah, I guess he really does fit into our family,” I said in agreement. Scout lifted his head and lowered one eye.

  Did that dog just wink at me?

  I went upstairs to change into something more comfortable. Like my bed. I flopped on the bedspread and tallied up everything I’d learned in my day of detecting.

  Much as I personally disliked Kimberly, she had an alibi for both Gregg’s and Gino’s murder, so that ruled her out.

  Cherie, however, proved she had a temper and she did not take Gregg’s breakup with her lightly.

  Then there was Bruno Palomino. I might need to spruce up my drug buying skills for future investigations. Surliness didn’t point to him as a killer, but I wouldn’t mind finding a way for someone to arrest him for selling narcotics, assuming he sold them to buyers far more savvy than me. And he worked only a few feet away from the timeshare office.

  I now possessed the name and address of the couple unhappy with their timeshare purchase. Since they lived in Placerville I should probably chat with them. Even if they seemed unlikely candidates for murder.

  But when you think about it, how many murderers, other than a psychopath or two, actually fit the profile of a killer?

  On that happy note, I fell into a deep slumber and woke up the following morning…

  Just kidding. Soccer mom/private investigators do not have the luxury of napping. I quickly changed into doggie-proof clothes in the form of a T-shirt and shorts and trotted down the stairs to prepare dinner.

  Much to my surprise, dinner had been delivered by none other than my grandmother, whom I found heating up a baked chicken casserole in my oven. I looked out the window but didn’t see her red Mustang in the driveway.

  “I don’t see your car,” I said as I grabbed a stack of plates from a cabinet.

  “My chauffeur brought me,” she replied with a giggle before pointing to her friend Herb, who was comfortably ensconced in Tom’s recliner watching the local news.

  “Hiya, Herb,” I shouted, hoping to make myself heard over the volume that threatened
to burst my eardrums.

  “He don’t hear so well,” Gran said. “And the old coot refuses to wear a hearing aid.”

  Great. The “old coot” didn’t hear well or see well. Some chauffeur.

  “What’s with the surprise dinner?” I asked.

  “Your mother was complaining that your detectin’ has been interferin’ with your domestic duties. And since I’m your number one client, I figured this was the least I could do for my favorite granddaughter.” She winked at me. “And favorite detective.”

  There’s nothing I love better than a home-cooked dinner, especially when I’m not the person cooking it. The door from the garage banged shut, and a few seconds later Tom walked into the kitchen.

  He sniffed. “Something sure smells good.” He turned to me with a questioning look. “Did you make it?”

  Hmm. Did my husband just insinuate I’m not a culinary expert, or was he merely an excellent detective?

  I chose to take the high road and merely replied. “Gran’s treat since I’ve been working all day on my caseload.”

  Tom wrapped his arms around me. “I can’t wait to hear your update. You’ll be pleased to know I’ll have more free time to help you in a day or two. Let me wash up. It looks like dinner is about to be served.”

  Fifteen minutes later, with our stomachs stuffed with Gran’s excellent casserole, I updated everyone on my discoveries. Gran and Tom listened intently, but I had a feeling Herb was more anxious to get back to Wheel of Fortune than learn anything about the timeshare victim and my slate of suspects.

  “So this woman Gregg dumped still harbored a lot of anger toward him?” Tom summed up after I shared my conversation with Cherie.

  “Very much so.”

  “How about the witch who runs the timeshare office?” asked Gran. “I’d love to nail her.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. She’s got an alibi. She was with Marty, one of the other salespeople in the office, at the time of the murder. I made a sad attempt to get something out of Bruno Palomino, but it was kind of a bust. I guess I didn’t do a very good job of portraying myself as a soccer mom needing a fix.”

  Tom shook his head. “No surprise there. You let me handle that angle.”

  Last year Tom spent six months undercover for a narcotics task force. He could far easier assume the persona of an addict than this naïve mom.

  “Didn’t you say there was a couple of folks real annoyed with Gregg and the timeshare company?” asked Gran.

  “Yep. And Kimberly, after much prodding, shared their names with me. Paul and Sally Lankershim live in Placerville. Since I’m local I hope I can cajole them into giving me some information.”

  “I don’t know them personally, but I’m pretty sure Iris does. Their names sure sound familiar. Let me see if she can set up something so Herb and I can chat with them,” Gran said before glancing in Herb’s direction. “He needs an activity other than watching TV all the time. How ’bout we help you out with your questioning?”

  “Sure. They might be more likely to talk to you two than to me,” I said.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  The next day started out exactly as planned. Which should have been a surefire warning that it wouldn’t end that way.

  With some referral help from Iris, Gran made an appointment with the Lankershims for that evening to discuss their mutual timeshare woes. She mentioned she and Herb, who would play the part of her husband, had some issues with Timeshare Help. They’d love advice from the elderly couple. The Lankershims invited Gran and Herb over for early cocktails and she instantly agreed. Gran was not one to turn down a free gin and tonic.

  My assignment was simple. Drop Gran and Herb at the Lankershims’ house and park a discreet distance away should they need assistance. In case the pair turned out to be killers. None of us thought it was a high probability, but a good detective is always prepared. My purse included my hot pink stun gun, pepper spray and hair spray.

  Enough defensive equipment to take out an entire retirement home.

  As I sat in the car pondering my next move in this investigation, my cell rang. Adriana.

  “What?” I said breathlessly after digging the phone out of my purse and wondering why it was always so difficult to find.

  “What time do you want to meet?” she asked.

  “Meet?” What was she talking about?

  “Remember, we decided to hit that sleazy bar in Sacramento tonight?”

  Uh oh. I remembered her suggesting we visit the bar. What I didn’t recall was actually agreeing to the plan.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. That one biker guy might recognize me.”

  “Do they know you’re a detective?”

  I snorted. “Hardly.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Well, for one, I’m staking out a house for another client right now. I might not be free for a while. You’re not my only client, you know.” I looked at my watch. Five thirty. Gran and Herb had entered the house thirty minutes earlier. Since no cries for help had come from the house I assumed they were enjoying happy hour with the timeshare owners.

  “C’mon, Laurel. This is really important to me. Can’t someone else from your office relieve you?”

  I sighed. “Tell you what. I should be done here in a couple of hours. We don’t want to hit the bar too early anyway. Why don’t we meet at the El Dorado Hills CVS drugstore at nine? Does that work?”

  She accepted, although before signing off she warned me, “Dress hot, if that’s even possible.”

  It was definitely time to raise those hourly rates.

  By seven o’clock, I was hot, but only because the early evening temperature had soared well past ninety degrees. Still no peep from the senior detectives. I’d tried Gran’s cell twice but each time it went directly to voicemail. I hated to interrupt them, but I needed to drop them off before going home and changing into something “hotter.”

  I moved my car from my current parking space four houses down and across the street from the Lankershims’ home and pulled into their driveway. I waited a couple of minutes, thinking someone should have heard me drive up.

  No such luck. I climbed out of the car and walked up their sidewalk, noticing their manicured lawn and perfectly pruned hedges. I wondered if Paul Lankershim demanded perfection from his lawn service or if he did the work himself.

  I knocked on the door, then waited. And waited. Next I pounded on the door, thinking the elderly couple might have hearing issues like Gran and Herb.

  I reached for the doorknob, which easily turned, and stepped into a small tile foyer. No sign of anyone. Where the heck could the four seniors have disappeared to? My gaze turned to the flight of stairs to the right of the entry. Should I go upstairs and look for them?

  Then a scream pierced the air like an arrow through my heart.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Since the scream sounded like it had come from behind the house, I rushed down the hallway into the kitchen in the rear of the home. No signs of blood or dead bodies.

  But there weren’t any live bodies either. I slid open the screen door and stepped onto a large concrete patio, where I found the four seniors. Herb and Sally Lankershim looked like they were attempting to contain their laughter but not entirely succeeding. Gran, who for some odd reason was holding a small fire extinguisher in her right hand, wore an abashed look.

  Paul Lankershim, covered from his head to his wet Nikes in white foamy liquid, did not look pleased. In fact, he looked ready to murder my grandmother.

  I walked toward the foursome. “What’s going on?” I asked Gran.

  “Paul here got the BBQ going, but the flames were so high they singed his eyebrows.” She pointed to the handheld extinguisher. “I grabbed this and probably saved his life.”

  “You didn’t save my life,” Paul growled at Gran before shouting at his wife. “Get me a towel. Now.”

  Geesh. He was a crabby old bu
zzard.

  “Hey, I meant well,” Gran said. “Sorry about the mess.”

  Paul snatched the extinguisher out of Gran’s hands. “Get out of my house,” he yelled.

  Herb shuffled toward the screen door with Gran not far behind. Sally whispered to Gran before wiggling her fingers goodbye. I followed the seniors through the house and out to my car, leaving my questions until we departed.

  Once they were loaded in, I backed out of the driveway and headed for home.

  “So how was your evening before the, um, incident?” I asked.

  “Swell, until Ginny got carried away,” replied Herb. He patted his stomach. “We coulda got a free dinner with them folks.”

  “I thought the man was on fire. You should be grateful I’m so quick-witted. We might have all burned up.” From my rearview mirror I could see Gran fold her arms and move a few inches away from Herb.

  “Well, I’m certainly grateful nothing happened to either of you,” I said. “Paul Lankershim seems to have quite a temper. Did you learn anything about his timeshare dealings before the BBQ incident?”

  Gran leaned forward. “His situation was different from Iris. He bought a timeshare that was a resale from Timeshare Help. Was all excited about it until a friend of his said he purchased a week in the same place for half what they paid.”

  “From what I’ve learned, those resale prices are all over the board,” I replied. “It depends how desperate the seller is.”

  Gran nodded. “Yep. That’s what Gregg Morton told Paul. Over and over, I guess. Sally confided Paul just couldn’t let it go. They’ve been up to the timeshare office several times, but couldn’t get anything resolved. At least to Paul’s satisfaction. Guess they offered him a two-for-one dinner coupon for his troubles.”

  I smiled. Not exactly the same value. Unless it was for dinner at the Eiffel Tower, airline tickets included.

  “Can you picture Paul as a murderer, though?” I asked her.

  “He looked ready to clobber Ginny with his fire extinguisher,” Herb chipped in. “Course that wouldn’t be the first time someone wanted to clobber her. Remember when you accused George of cheating at poker at the senior center?”