by Diana Orgain
“I insist.” I locked eyes with him. “This is important.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Odette flee the room, her shoulders heaving.
The officer she’d been talking to gestured to Dave. “Just finished up with her. Can you give your statement now?”
Glancing around and not seeing anything else that demanded my attention, I followed Odette into the hall. She wasn’t out there, but on a hunch, I headed to the women’s restroom.
Sure enough, she was there, leaning over the sink, pale and trembling.
“You okay?” I asked.
She glanced up at me and managed a weak laugh. “I think there’s nothing left in my stomach to throw up, but I just can’t seem to stop gagging.”
“Were you and Leo close?”
She hesitated, and then turned the faucet on and splashed water on her face. “Not really. He was kind of obnoxious, actually. Ugh, that sounds awful now that he’s dead.” She shut off the water and pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser. “But, you just don’t expect to have a dead body fall right in front of you when you’re opening a closet you’ve opened a hundred times before. And then for it to be someone you know . . .” She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll get a handle on myself. You see this stuff all the time. You must think I’m being ridiculous.”
“You’re not being ridiculous.” I leaned back against the wall. “It’s a shock the first time you find a dead body. The second time too. And it’s a lot worse when it’s someone you’ve known a long time. I’ve been there.”
“Ken said he’s helped you out with some cases,” she said. “Is that true, or just a line he feeds to girls?”
My nose wrinkled at the name Ken, but I just responded, “Oh, Kenny’s been invaluable. Even saved my life a couple times. Pretty good for a high schooler.”
She visibly jolted. “High schooler?”
Ah, there we go. My work here was done.
“Oh.” She blinked. “I . . . thought he was older. He said he was in college.
“Well, he’s taking community college classes now,” I said. “He just turned eighteen recently.”
Apologies to Kenny, but there were millions of pretty girls in his age bracket. I’d helped set him up with a few. No good could come of an eighteen-year-old boy getting entangled with a twenty-five-year-old pro dancer.
No good at all.
“I better go. Sorry,” she said, pushing past me and out the door.
I glanced in the mirror, brushed away a stray fleck of eyeliner, and returned to the crime scene. The medical examiner was just zipping up the body bag.
Galigani beckoned me over. “Looks like some defensive bruises on Leo’s feet,” he said. “We’ll know more when the autopsy comes back tomorrow.”
Deb joined us. “We’ve gotten statements from pretty much everyone,” she said in a low voice. “I don’t much like the two ballet teachers, Kim and Todd. You met them yet?”
I shook my head and glanced around the room, but besides the cops, the only people still here were Jim and Dave.
Deb continued, “They may be able to alibi out—depends on what the ME concludes about time of death—but they had nothing but good things to say about Leo, and everyone else says the two of them hated Leo’s guts.”
“The good news,” said Galigani, “is that Petunia said she went into the costume closet when she opened the studio this morning at nine. Something about checking on some sort of skirt and matching tie combo, to see how many they had for the upcoming dance.”
“And Leo didn’t fall out of the sky then,” I said. “So regardless of when he died, we know someone put him there in the closet between about nine and two.”
“Exactly!” Deb high-fived me.
“Anything else we can learn here?” I asked Galigani.
“Let’s call it a day,” he replied. “We’ll make a plan this evening and start chasing down leads first thing tomorrow. And . . . one more thing, kid.” He gave Deb a long, steely look, and she raised her hands in surrender and retreated.
“Girl’s night with Paula soon?” she called as she walked away.
“You got it!” I turned back to Galigani and lifted an eyebrow. “What’s the secret from Deb?”
Galigani pulled at his collar. “You gonna have a free couple hours sometime soon? Next weekend maybe?”
“We’ll see how the case treats us,” I said slowly. “What is it?”
“Was wondering if you might help me with some shopping.”
I stared at him. “Shopping?”
“Maybe at a jewelry store. You could tell me what your mom likes. You know. For rings.”
My heart pounded in my ears. “Rings?”
Galigani looked hurt. “I mean, I know your mom and I haven’t been a couple for all that long, but when you’re our age—”
“Oh! I didn’t mean it like that!” I exclaimed. “I’m thrilled. You just took me by surprise.”
His face morphed into an expression of relief, and guilt tugged at my chest. Should I warn him that Mom might not feel ready to commit?
Nope, I decided. Surely Mom wouldn’t start running around with Hank if she knew how serious Galigani was about her.
Surely.
To Do:
Research best baby-proofing system.
Land new client? (Maybe Dave’s studio?) Solve Leo’s murder.
Help Galigani shop for engagement rings.
Chase off Hank.
Chapter 7
By the time Jim and I arrived home with Laurie and Whiskers, the stench of zombie diapers had mostly dissipated. I sighed in relief.
“What a week!” I said as I opened Whiskers’ carrier. She scrambled under the couch and vanished.
Jim sank onto the couch with Laurie in his arms. “I feel so bad for Dave and his brothers. The hits just keep on coming. Do you think Monte did it?”
“That makes the most sense,” I said, sitting beside him. “I’ll certainly be interested to hear if he has an alibi. Deb thought the ballet teachers were suspicious too.”
Laurie reached for me, and I pulled her out of Jim’s lap and cuddled her close.
Jim ran a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t seem like—”
My phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Kenny. I held up a finger to signal Jim to wait a moment, and answered, “Hey, what’s up?”
“Hey, I just saw you guys pull in,” Kenny said. “Mind if I come over? I just . . . everything that happened and . . .”
“You need to talk about it?” I asked gently.
“Yeah.”
“Come on over,” I said in a warm voice. “We’ll break out the ice cream.”
Not ten seconds later, a knock sounded on the door. I chuckled. “He didn’t even wait for us to pick up before he started walking over.”
I ushered Kenny inside, and he wrinkled his nose.
“Still doesn’t smell great in here, does it?” he asked.
“A lot better than it did,” Jim answered wryly.
Kenny laughed, but it seemed strained. “You have a point. What was up with that smell, anyway?”
Jim briefly explained the human tornado that was Jo-Jo, and the burst sewer pipe. Though Kenny seemed engaged, I could tell he was having a hard time. His enthusiasm seemed dimmed.
Poor kid. He’d gotten into his fair share of scrapes helping me out, but it was still traumatic to find a dead body like that. He was still so young.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
He hesitated, then shifted in his seat. “It was a hard day. Well, not the first part. The first part was great. Odette is . . .” His eyes took on a dreamy look, and I felt a little trace of guilt that I’d interfered. He cleared his throat and continued, “When we found the dead guy, it—”
His phone rang. He glanced at it, and his eyes brightened. “That’s Odette.”
He answered the phone, and I looked helplessly at Jim. Odette was calling Kenny? Even after I’d told her he was eighteen?
&nb
sp; “Yeah,” said Kenny into the phone. “I can explain. Definitely. Now?” He shot to his feet and headed toward the door, waving at us. “Sorry, guys,” he called. “Can we finish this later? I need to go see her.”
He was outside before either of us had a chance to respond.
I gave a long sigh. “I tried. I really did.”
Jim gave me a wry look. “You’re not his mom, you know.”
“But I’m kind of like his fun aunt.” I stuck my tongue out. “The permissive one who doesn’t interfere unless the kid is about to do something really, really stupid.”
Jim shook his head. “Well, be careful how you interfere. It might make him want to date the girl even more.”
sorry, no can do, read Kenny’s text message. spending day with odette. she doesn’t want to be alone.
I grunted and glanced at the clock. I was supposed to meet Galigani at the precinct in an hour to look at the autopsy report, and I needed a babysitter. If Kenny was off making eyes at Odette, I’d have to go to my backup list.
First, I called Mom.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, darling,” she said before I was halfway through my question. “I’m shopping for some ingredients to test some 1950s-style recipes for the fundraiser. I found this really interesting one for ham and bananas hollandaise.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Ham and bananas hollandaise. It’s bananas, wrapped in slices of ham, and slathered in hollandaise sauce.”
Even for Mom, that sounded insane. “Do you . . . think maybe we should stick to dishes that might be a little more popular?”
“But this is authentic! I found it in your grandmother’s old cookbook. I’m also getting stuff to try out a savory popsicle.”
“A savory . . . popsicle?”
“This recipe uses pork, beans, and ketchup.” Sometimes I couldn’t tell if the glee in her voice was genuine, or if she knew I thought she was being crazy.
Probably both—and probably she was determined to prove me wrong by making savory popsicles a huge hit.
“Um . . .” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. Laurie had just pulled herself to a standing position next to the coffee table and was chewing on the corner of my legal pad. Swooping her up, I said, “You know, that sounds great. See how they taste, and we’ll go from there. I’m sure Paula can watch Laurie.”
I dialed Paula next. No answer. I dialed again. Still no answer.
She did text me back, though. Sorry. Can’t. With a potential client. Will call back this afternoon.
I groaned and buried my head in my hands. Jim had meetings all day, so he couldn’t play stay-at-home dad. Dropping a kiss on top of Laurie’s head, I murmured, “Guess we’re a dynamic duo today, little duck. Do you want to go see the nice officers at the station?”
I went to dress Laurie in her little blue dress that looked sort of like a policewoman uniform, but it was a little too tight. “Mama’s sweet girl is growing so fast, huh?” I cooed.
In the end, we settled on a no-nonsense pair of pink leggings and a little white dress with a gray sweater.
I wheeled Laurie into the precinct, and she gave a big grin to the cop sitting at the front desk. The officer waved back, and Galigani came in behind us.
“Hey, Travis,” Galigani said to the desk officer. “We’re here to talk to Nick.”
The officer waved us back, and on a whim, I said, “Let me run by Deb’s office first.”
I knocked on the doorframe and stuck my head in. “Hey, Deb. You doing anything?”
She glanced up from a thick pile of paperwork. “Nothing interesting. You got something better for me?”
I pointed down at the stroller. “Galigani and I are headed down to meet with the ME, and I don’t really want to give Laurie her first introduction to a dead body until she’s at least nine months old.”
Deb snorted and pushed back from her desk. “Leave her here. We’ll get along just fine until you’re back.”
“Thank you!” I exclaimed, wheeling Laurie all the way inside. “I owe you one!”
“I’ve been staring at paperwork all day,” she said with an eyeroll. “At this point, my eyes are glazing over and I’d much rather be playing with this cutie.”
“Anything else I should know about the case?”
“Nothing significant. That Monte guy is pretty suspicious, but you knew that already.”
“That’s the first lead I’m gonna run down after I leave,” I called as I headed out the door.
Galigani and I went down to the basement, where the Nick the medical examiner was sitting in front of a computer screen.
“Whatcha got?” Galigani asked.
Nick hit print and spun his chair to face us. “I’ll give you a copy of the autopsy report,” he said in his husky voice, “but the short version is that we’re looking at a poisoning.”
“So, we were right,” said Galigani. “Leo was already dead when he was knifed in the back.”
“What would the killer gain by making it so obvious that it’s a murder?” I asked.
“Could be trying to frame someone,” offered Galigani.
The printer finished spitting out the report, and Nick handed it to Galigani.
“The poison was vercuronium bromide, a paralyzing agent that’s pretty commonly used in small doses by anesthesiologists. But the intent here was clearly murder. He had several times the lethal limit in his system,” said Nick. “It stopped his heart.”
Galigani glanced through the report, and my gaze landed on a small shelf of superhero figurines above Nick’s desk. I hadn’t taken him for a comics nerd.
“You collect those?” I asked, gesturing to the shelf.
He grinned, and I suddenly could picture exactly what he must have looked like as a chubby-cheeked five-year-old. “Just a little. Marvel only. No DC.”
“So,” I said, squinting and trying to sort out which was which, hoping I wasn’t getting it backward. “Yes, to Captain Marvel and no, to Wonder Woman?”
“Well,” he said, gesturing to a photo on the desk, “my wife tells me I have to make an exception for Wonder Woman.”
The picture showed Nick and a pretty redhead, dressed up as superheroes. The woman—his wife, I presumed—was wearing a Wonder Woman costume. I didn’t recognize Nick’s costume, but it looked vaguely familiar.
“Halloween?” I asked.
“Comic con.” His smile told me he knew it was impossibly nerdy but didn’t care.
Galigani cleared his throat. “So, bottom line is that our vic was poisoned with a paralyzing agent but had time to fight back before it killed him. And he was stabbed postmortem.”
“Which means the killer may have had the knife to threaten him,” I said slowly. “We need to figure out if Leo was the target, or if this is about a vendetta against the studio.”
“Or both.” Galigani rolled up the sheaf of papers. “Two birds with one stone, maybe?”
We thanked Nick and left, picking up Laurie on our way out of the precinct. Galigani walked us to our car. I took a deep breath, enjoying the warm sunshine and fresh breeze.
“Listen kid,” Galigani said, leaning up against the passenger door. “About that shopping trip for your mom, I—”
“Yo, Kate!” Deb yelled, bursting into the parking lot and running toward us.
“Yeah?” I called.
She was out of breath by the time she reached us. “You weren’t in the room when we found that note, were you? And Galigani, you were talking to that guy who owns the studio. Did you see it? Did McGrumpy tell you about it?”
I shook my head and glanced at Galigani. He appeared to be as in-the-dark as I was.
“What note?” he and I asked in unison.
Deb pumped a fist triumphantly. “The dude was holding a note. The dead guy.”
Another note? “What did it say?”
She pulled out her phone and winked at me. “Don’t tell anyone I snapped a shot of evidence, okay? I’m doing you a favor.”
“My lips are sealed.”
Galigani grunted his assent, though I suspected that, as an ex-cop, he was probably cringing.
Deb pulled up the picture on her phone, and my heart pounded faster. It was another Hangman drawing. This time, the message said, Game over. Try again. Cancel the fundraiser, or someone dies on the dance floor.
Chapter 8
“I need to make a fresh to-do list,” I groaned, glancing at my ratty notecard and shifting Laurie to my other hip.
Paula, wearing a pink pencil skirt and ruffled blouse, peered over my shoulder, then gazed again at the huge mirrored wall on the dance floor at the studio. “What if we drape some gauzy fabric over this whole thing?” she said. “You know, the stuff with the twinkle lights? It’d be an easy way to hide the giant mirror.”
Petunia and Dave had pulled out all the dividers so Paula and I could see the whole floor as one unit.
“Oh!” Paula snapped her fingers and pointed at my notecard. “Don’t bother researching baby-proofing systems. We tried out like five different ones when Danny started getting into everything. He was a regular Houdini. I can’t remember the name of the brand that worked, but I’ll take a picture of the logo when I get home and send it to you.”
With a triumphant cry, I crossed “Research best baby-proofing system” off my list.
“There we go!” I cooed to Laurie. “We’re getting ahead of the game before you start pulling things out of cupboards!”
Laurie just squirmed.
“Now to figure out how to throw the best fundraiser of all time and catch a killer before someone else ends up dead,” I muttered.
“No big deal,” quipped Paula. “A day in the life.” She scowled at the mirrored wall and tapped her fingers together. “The gauzy fabric and twinkle lights would be pretty, but they’re not particularly 1950s-themed. I think we can come up with something better.”
“Daaarling!” cried my mother’s voice. I spun around to find Mom striding across the dance floor, her wedge heels clacking on the wood. Galigani followed in her wake, carrying a platter.
“Oh!” Paula called. “You come bearing food. Are you trying to sabotage my diet?”