Drop Dead Lola

by Melissa Bourbon

  “He couldn’t deny his feelings for you? I’d say so.”

  “He came here one afternoon. He sat and waited while I finished with my last client. Then we sat right here, on these same two chairs. He apologized for being a crappy boyfriend—”

  “Was he a crappy boyfriend?”

  She shrugged. “He had his moments.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, remembering what Marnie Haskell had said about her son’s relationship with Gemma and the old girlfriends who’d shown up at the funeral.

  “It’s a guy thing,” she said. “I was ready to settle down. You know, get married. But Phil wasn’t. We broke up a couple of times, but then, all of a sudden, he decided he was ready. His parents’ marriage is okay, I guess, but my parents are divorced. Phil said he wanted to do better than our fathers did. He said that we could do better. He said—he said he loved me and we were going to be our own little family. We didn’t need anyone else. He said family was all that mattered, and I was his.” Her face crumpled as the tears she’d been battling finally poured from her eyes like water from a breaking dam.

  I plucked a tissue from the box on the little table that sat against the mirror and handed it to Gemma. “What made him decide he was ready for the commitment?”

  She dabbed at her eyes, her mascara smearing beneath her lower lashes. “Like some specific event that made him realize he really loved me?”

  “Was there one?”

  “Not that I know of.” She looked up at the ceiling for a minute, thinking. “He was really busy lately. He had new clients from Roseville all the way down to Lodi so we weren’t seeing each other as often as usual. But things were fine.”

  “So business was good and his relationship with you was good. Did he get along with his parents? And his brother and sister?” Just because Marnie Haskell was grieving the loss of her son and had hired Camacho and Associates to find out more about his death didn’t mean she and Philip had a good relationship. She’d hadn’t known about the engagement, after all.

  “To be honest, I don’t see his folks very much anymore. Phil liked to keep us separate from them. He and George played basketball together once in a while. Anne and I get along fine, but she and Phil weren’t that close, so we didn’t see her too much, either.

  “Don’t get me wrong. He cared about his family,” she continued. “He worked with his dad for a long time, so they were pretty close. He was pretty close to George, too. He and Anne just didn’t have a lot in common. And I know he loved his mom, but he thought she could be a little overbearing, you know? She was always on his case about settling down, giving her grandchildren.”

  “Is that what you wanted? Kids?”

  Her face collapsed again. She spoke through her tears. “I did. I do. When we got engaged, I asked him. I was like, do you want kids with me, because I do. He said yes. He said we were going to have a great family. He wanted our kids to be close together in age. To grow up together and be so close that they’d be friends as well as siblings.”

  I thought about my siblings. If any of us ever needed anything, we’d be there for each other. They were the people I trusted and could rely on most in the world, but we also hung out together. We weren’t just siblings, we were friends. I loved that Philip wanted that type of relationship for his own children.

  “Do you get along with Philip’s mother?” I asked.

  Gemma pressed the back of her hand to her nose and closed her eyes for a second. “Yeah, basically. She’s not that friendly in general, but we get along fine.”

  I’d decided to compile a list of alibis for anyone I talked to in the investigation, starting with Gemma. “What time did Philip die?” I asked.

  “Close to six.”

  “I’m so sorry. That must have been a hard phone call to get,” I said. “Where were you?”

  There was a lengthy pause before she responded, and I knew she was remembering that moment. “It was so hard. I was out shopping and my cell phone died, so I didn’t listen to the message from Mr. Haskell till almost eight. I can’t…I could have…”

  I put my hand on her knee. “You couldn’t have done anything to save him.”

  “I was looking at bridal gowns and he was…” She sobbed. “He was dying.”

  I was silent with her for a few minutes as she worked through the emotions crashing through her mind. Poor girl. I feared she was going to carry guilt with her for a long time despite the fact that she couldn’t have changed the outcome of Philip’s life.

  My gaze strayed to the back hall, zeroing in on the garment bag hanging there. “Is that your wedding dress?”

  She followed my gaze, her eyes filling. She nodded. “I bought it that night.”

  She’d been quick to buy, but now, holding on to a bridal gown for a wedding that would never happen seemed like a unique form of self-punishment. “Maybe you should take it back,” I suggested.

  “I don’t know if they will.”

  “Why wouldn’t they, given the circumstances?”

  She gave her head an unsure little shake. “It’s not from a regular bridal shop. There’s this store on Fulton. It’s resale and consignment, so I’m not sure. I didn’t ask because it never crossed my mind that the wedding might not happen.”

  “I bet they will if you tell them what happened,” I said.

  “Maybe.” She blew her nose and stood. “I have a client coming soon.”

  Right. Our time was up. I stood and walked with her toward the front. When we got to the door, I stopped and turned to her. “Gemma, Mrs. Haskell said she doesn’t know where Philip’s phone is.”

  I’d left the sentence hanging there in the hopes that she’d tell me whatever she might know about the phone. She didn’t disappoint. “Everybody’s been looking for it. His mom and dad, his sister and brother, even a few of his friends—they’ve all asked me for it, but I don’t have it.”

  “And you don’t know where it is?”

  “I wish I did, but no. No idea.”

  “Is there anything else you can think of? Any reason Mrs. Haskell thinks someone else was involved in Philip’s…death?”

  She immediately shook her head. No hesitation. “He was just a normal guy. No one would want to kill him, if that’s what she thinks. He wasn’t enemies with anyone. No one hated him—”

  She broke off and her eyes went wide.

  “Gemma?”

  “Oh no,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath.

  I took her hand. “Oh no, what? Gemma, what is it?”

  “Phil worked for Quaffman Electric for, I don’t know, almost ten years or so. When he went out on his own, some of his clients went with him. The owner was so pissed. He threatened to take Phil to court. But he wouldn’t have…he couldn’t have…” She looked at me, fear in her eyes. “Could he?”

  That was a very good question—and a lead which I would be following muy pronto. “I hope not, Gemma,” I said. “I really hope not.”

  Chapter 6

  There was no time like the present. Back in my car, it took less than a minute to find the contact information for Quaffman Electric and another two to place the call and ask the office manager if Joe Quaffman was available.

  “He’s on a call,” the woman said. “Do you want to make an appointment?”

  “Actually, I just want to talk to him about a former employee. Philip Haskell?”

  “Phil? He doesn’t work here.”

  Which is why I’d said former employee. “I know. I just have a few questions.”

  “He died recently.”

  I sighed. “Yes, I know. His mother is very upset and—”

  “I don’t think we can help you.”

  Oh, yes they could. “Is there a way I can talk to Mr. Quaffman?”

  “Sure thing. You can make an appointment.”

  She hadn’
t been overly friendly to begin with, but now her voice had taken on a definite tone. I made mine extra nice in response. “Can I leave a message for him to call me?”

  “Ma’am, do you want to make an appointment or not?” she asked, all pretense of niceties gone.

  I quickly ran through my options. I could go hang out at Quaffman Electric’s office, but who knew if and when Joe would return there. They’d be billable hours, but it could be a colossal waste of time. I could suss out his personal phone or address and try to reach him that way. Or I could make an appointment.

  I went with door number three. “Yes, I’ll make an appointment.” I’d let Joe Quaffman come to me.

  I took the next available window, which was late that same afternoon from four to six. There were a lot of hours in between now and four o’clock. It wasn’t enough time to dig into Philip’s friends and I didn’t have any other specific leads, but the fact that Marnie Haskell hadn’t known just how serious her son was with Gemma was a flashing alert in my mind. Gemma wore a ring and was pretty convincing when she’d told the story of her engagement. She’d even bought a wedding dress. So why hadn’t Marnie Haskell known about it?

  Philip had told Gemma that he wanted their marriage to be better than both of their parents’. That went to his state of mind, didn’t it? My mind concocted an assortment of possible scenarios. Maybe Philip had told his mother about his engagement, and maybe she wasn’t pleased with the idea. Had they argued? If that had preceded the hanging, her guilt could be driving her insistence that something else contributed to Philip’s death. Maybe she’d pushed him over the limit of what he could cope with.

  Or what if Philip had gone to his father, telling him that his marriage to Gemma was going to be so much better than his father’s and mother’s. If they’d gotten heated, maybe Philip had lost all hope that his family would support him.

  When it came right down to it, I had nothing. My theories were wildly unsubstantiated, but I had to start somewhere. I remembered what Marnie Haskell had said about Philip working for a long time with his father. Following in his father’s footsteps, she’d said, so presumably Mr. Haskell was also an electrician. I’d already spent time with Mrs. Haskell. Now, I thought, it was time to visit Philip’s father.

  Social media could be a wonderful tool. Thanks to LinkedIn, it didn’t take long to track down Tim Haskell, master electrician, and my phone call to River City Electric Solutions was much smoother than the one to Quaffman Electric had been. The lovely receptionist patched me through to Tim Haskell right away and within two minutes, we’d agreed to meet at La Favorita Taqueria on Florin Road.

  I didn’t see a River City Electric Solutions vehicle in the parking lot of the taqueria when I arrived. I peeked my head inside the door, wondering if I’d be able to pick out an electrician from the restaurant’s customers. I couldn’t. I didn’t think Tim Haskell was here yet, but I called out his name anyway, then waited to see if anyone responded. A half dozen pairs of eyes looked at me, but no one stepped forward claiming to be the man I was here to meet.

  In typical form, my stomach growled. I hadn’t met a taco I didn’t want to devour. I waited my turn in line, placed an order for a taco plate with super tacos pastor, rice, and beans. The salsa bar summoned me and I filled cups with every variety, doubling up on the pickled onions. I found a booth and was just sitting down when a good looking silver fox wearing a beige button up shirt with a River City Electric Solutions emblem and TIM boldly emblazoned on a patch sauntered in the door.

  His eyes scanned the restaurant, stopping when he saw me with my raised arm flagging him down. He extended his arm to me as he approached the booth. “Ms. Cruz?”

  “Dolores,” I said, standing to shake his hand.

  The man’s deep brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. “Dolores. Nice old-fashioned name.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, so I just smiled. “Thank you for meeting me.” I pointed to the counter. “I already ordered. Do you want to…”

  “Yep. I’ll be right back.”

  He ambled toward the front and I reclaimed my seat, digging into the chips and salsa while I waited for him to return. He came back a few minutes later with his own cups of salsa and slid into the seat across from me. I pushed the basket of tortilla chips to the middle of the table and launched right into my spiel. “I am really sorry about your loss. My boyfriend is Jack Callaghan. He went to school with—”

  “I know Jack,” Mr. Haskell interrupted. “Nice young man. He and Phil have known each other since elementary school.”

  It occurred to me that if Jack went to school with and knew Phil Haskell, then Antonio probably did, too. Or at least of him. “As you know, your wife hired me to look into Philip’s death.”

  He drew back, his jaw dropping. Clearly this was news to him. “Wait, what?”

  Okay. So, lack of communication. Maybe this was what Philip was referring to when he told Gemma that their marriage would be better than his parents’. “I work for Camacho and Associates. Mrs. Haskell came in yesterday and hired us.”

  The salsa-laden chip he held dripped red liquid onto the table. “I don’t understand what she wants you to do. My son killed himself.”

  “Your wife seems convinced that someone else was involved. That someone else may have been there.”

  He put the chip on a napkin and pushed it away. “She’s having a hard time accepting what happened,” he said, “but I think she’s gone over the edge. You know, she’s never slept well. Now she can’t make it two hours without waking up. This is taking a huge toll on her health. She actually hired a PI?”

  “She did.” And he was looking at her.

  A server arrived. He placed my tacos platter in front of me and handed Tim Haskell a massive burrito wrapped in foil. He’d ordered to-go so I thought Mr. Haskell didn’t plan on staying long, but then he unwrapped the foil and took a massive bite. His wife was right. Losing his son hadn’t diminished his appetite.

  “Maybe I can help her deal with what happened,” I said.

  He swallowed, then wiped his mouth with a napkin, wadding it up in one hand, holding the burrito in the other. “Maybe. I guess. I don’t know why she thinks someone would intentionally hurt our son. He was a good kid.”

  And an electrician. So everybody said.

  “I spoke with his fiancée this morning. Gemma Ramsey. I got the feeling Philip hadn’t shared the fact that they’d gotten engaged with you and your wife?”

  He’d taken another bite, but now put the burrito down and took a drink of the soda the server had delivered. “He told me after he proposed. It was…unexpected. I didn’t think Phil was that serious with Gemma. She’s a good girl, though. She’s having a hard time.”

  “But your wife didn’t know?”

  “Phil wanted to surprise her. I kept it to myself so he could do that.”

  I poured salsa onto my tacos, taking a bite before continuing. “Gemma thought that your wife wouldn’t be quite so happy about their engagement?”

  He shrugged. “You know how it is with a mother and her son.”

  I did know about mothers and sons. My mother had a special bond with Antonio. Of my brothers, Tonio could do no wrong. He went through waitresses at Abuelita’s faster than a hungry group of teens plowed through a basket of chips. He was a mujeriego, with a different woman every week, but none of that mattered. Whatever his sins, Mami forgave them instantly. He would always be her precioso. And then there was Roberto. Every phone call, every Skype call, every visit home when he was on leave made her heart swell with pride and adoration. Even Ray, who she saw less often than the rest of us, was her pride and joy. She loved Gracie and me, but her boys held a special place in her heart.

  His chin quivered, but he covered up his emotions by taking another bite of his burrito. I gave him a moment before I continued, finishing my taco as I waited. When i
t seemed he was back in control, I said, “Gemma mentioned something about the company Philip used to work for. Quaffman’s Electric?”

  “That’s right,” he confirmed. “He was with Joe Quaffman for almost six years, then he decided to go out on his own.”

  “Was Mr. Quaffman upset about that? Losing such an experienced employee?”

  Tim Haskell curled his upper lip and shrugged. “People have to do what they have to do. In this business, it’s pretty common for people to branch out on their own once they have enough years and a solid reputation under their belt. Phil was good. Joe taught him well.”

  First name familiarity. Clearly they knew each other. “You’re friends with Joe?”

  “Yeah, we go back a ways.”

  “Did he help your son get started when he went out on his own?” I already knew from Gemma that Joe Quaffman had been pissed at Philip, but I liked to corroborate stories if I could.

  “Look, you know how it is. Business is competitive. Phil starting his own company meant competition for Quaffman’s, so no, I don’t think Joe helped him any. But Phil had me. He didn’t need Joe.”

  I wondered why Philip didn’t work with his dad from the beginning at River City Electric Solutions, so I asked him.

  “My boy learned from me every day of his life, and he worked with me for a lot of years, but I wanted him to have other mentors, too. Joe’s a good guy, and he runs a good company. It was a natural progression for Phil.”

  That made sense. I learned different things from Manny, Sadie, and Neil. Not all of it was what they intended to teach me, but they each had their own style and approach to investigation. If I chose only to learn from Manny, I would be doing myself a disservice, as well as my clients.

  “Mr. Haskell, your wife seems convinced that someone had a hand in Philip’s death. That he didn’t hang himself. Why would she think that?”

  “I’ve been trying to figure that out, believe me. I know she has doubts, but I didn’t know she’d gone to a PI firm. I saw the photos and the body. The police said it was ruled a suicide, so I don’t understand. “