Chapter 23
S
ean had expected Ditas to show up, but he hadn't expected him to show up so soon. Whatever was bothering him must really be eating him up, Sean thought. It had been what? A little over two days since he'd given him his card. He'd expected him to come by next week. Or the week after.
As Ditas sat down, Sean found himself wishing that the girls were here. He'd like them to see this guy. Get their opinion. They'd gone out to canvass the shopkeepers in West Vale over two hours ago. Allowing for travel to and from the town they should be back by now. Unless they'd run into a chatty Cathy.
For a few seconds he toyed with the idea of calling Bernie on her cell, but decided against it. If something bad happened she'd call him. Anyway, Libby was with her. Which was good. At least Libby had some common sense. And with that thought, Sean focused all his attention on Ditas Raid.
“So,” Ditas said to Sean as he watched Amber put a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade and a plate of Hungarian nut cookies out on the table in front of him, “I never thought I'd come see you.”
“Really?” Sean said as Amber poured him a glass of lemonade. “That's odd because I was positive you would.”
“Why is that?” Ditas asked as Amber poured him a glass of lemonade as well and left the room.
Sean smiled while he considered the approach he was going to take. The thing to remember, he reminded himself, was that this guy wanted to talk. The only thing he had to do was make it possible for him to do it.
Finally Sean said, “Because I have good instincts.” Which was a nice general non-threatening statement. Ditas must have thought so too, Sean decided because he took another sip of his lemonade.
“This is really wonderful stuff,” he said.
“It is, isn't it?” Sean observed. “My daughter makes it fresh every day.”
Ditas nodded and took another sip.
“Ditas, Jura, and Joe,” Sean said when he'd put his glass down. “Odd combination of names.”
“Well, the first two are Estonian, but when Joe was born my grandmother had died so my parents felt they no longer had to please them. Lucky guy. You can imagine what it was like going to school with names like Ditas and Jura. Me and my brother used to get into fights at least once, maybe twice a week.” Ditas leaned over, snagged a cookie, and conveyed it to his mouth. “These are also excellent,” he observed.
“Everything my two daughters do is excellent,” Sean replied as he studied Ditas's face. He looked tired, Sean decided. “After all, that is why your brother's bride-to-be hired them.”
Ditas didn't say anything.
“So why have you come?” Sean asked.
Ditas lowered his eyes and stared at his hands.
“Take all the time you want,” Sean told him. “After all, I'm not going anywhere.”
While he was waiting for Ditas to speak he snuck a glance at this watch. If Bernie hadn't checked in with him by the time Ditas left, he'd break down and call her.
Finally Ditas lifted his head up.
“I guess you're going to hear this sooner or later,” he told Sean.
“And what would that be?”
Ditas fell silent again. Sean waited. He could hear people chatting outside on the pavement. A little girl was asking if she could get a cookie at
A Taste of Heaven.
“You know,” Ditas began, “how sometimes you see something in someone that no one else does? That there's an instant connection between you.”
Sean nodded encouragingly.
“Well, that's what it was like with me and Leeza. We just connected.” Ditas took another sip of his lemonade. “We started talking. It turned out she and I both had the same taste in music and we liked the same movies. We both thought that
The Wizard of Oz
was the best movie ever made. We both liked Westerns. We both loved cartoons. We both watched the cartoon channel. Jura never goes to the movies. Or a show. Or even reads a book. He's too busy working. Leeza was sweet. Jura didn't see that, really. Most people didn't, but she was.”
“Did she like Jura?” Sean asked.
“She liked me better,” Ditas replied.
“It must have been an awkward situation,” Sean observed neutrally.
Ditas nodded his head vigorously. “It was. It really was.”
“But she was going to go ahead and marry your brother despite all of this.”
“Yes,” Ditas's voice dropped.
“And have this big wedding.”
“It was what she wanted,” Ditas answered. “She told me she had been planning her wedding since she was twelve. It was very important to her.”
“And now she'd found a man that could pay for it,” Sean murmured.
Ditas didn't say anything.
“Tell me,” Sean asked him. “Did you ask her not to?”
“Not to what?”
“To marry him. Did you ask her to call off the wedding. If she liked you better . . .”
Ditas focused his eyes on a spot above Sean's head. “Not exactly . . .”
“Why not?”
Now Ditas directed his gaze at the floor.
“Why?” Sean repeated thinking that he wasn't going to find the answers he was looking for there.
“It wasn't my place.”
“But surely . . . if you cared for her. . . .”
“My brother is blood,” Ditas told him. “No matter what, family always comes first.”
“I heard that you and your younger brother aren't talking,” Sean threw out. “It must make for nice family dinner conversations.”
Ditas shifted in his chair. “Family is family.”
“And business is business.” Sean studied Ditas's face for a moment. Then he said, “Jura could have kicked you out of the business, couldn't he?”
“No. But he could make it hard for me,” Ditas admitted. “He is the senior partner.”
“I see,” Sean said. He took a sip of lemonade after which he reached over and broke one of Libby's cookies in half and ate it. He brushed the crumbs off his hands and his legs. “Tell me,” he said suddenly. “Did Jura know you were having an affair with his bride?”
Ditas startled. “I never said I was sleeping with her, never.”
“Not in so many words, but, hey . . .” Sean let his voice drift off. “Leeza was an attractive woman. I mean it stands to reason. Unless you have a problem in that area . . .”
“No. No.” Ditas hit the arm of the chair he was sitting in with his fist. “Never.”
As Sean watched Ditas' face flush, he reflected vanity was a wonderful thing. A man would rather confess to cheating on his brother than admitting that he couldn't get it up.
“So then you did?” Sean asked him.
Ditas didn't say anything.
“What were you going to do after the wedding?” Sean persisted. “Continue?”
Ditas licked his lips.
“At least tell me why you're here,” Sean urged.
“I'm here,” Ditas said. “Because no one is doing anything about Leeza's death.”
“And what would you like me to do?”
“Find the person that killed Leeza and have him arrested.”
“And you want to tell me who that is?”
Ditas shook his head. “I don't know.”
“I don't believe you.”
Ditas licked his lips again. “I've given you all the help I can.” And he stood up, turned around, and headed out the door.
As Sean listened to him going down the stairs he pondered the reasons he'd come. After several minutes of doing that he reached for the phone and called Libby. He had a question about Ditas he wanted to ask her, as well as make sure she and Bernie were okay.
They'd been gone a while now and with that van you never knew. It had sounded as if something was misfiring when they'd taken off. He wished they'd get a new vehicle. But once Libby got attached to something, it was hell getting her to get rid of it and get something new, Sean thought as he waited for Libby to answer.
“Is everything all right?” he asked her once she finally did.
“Of course,” his eldest daughter replied.
“Because you're late. I was afraid you'd broken down.”
“We're fine, Dad. Really.”
“Did the shopkeepers have anything interesting to say?”
Sean could hear the slight hesitation in his daughter's voice before she answered, “Absolutely.”
Sean frowned. “Like what?”
He wasn't happy when Libby began to hem and haw on the other end. It meant she was lying. “All right,” he said. “What are you two up to?”
“Nothing, Dad. Really.”
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“There's nothing to tell.”
“I mean it.”
At which point Libby spilled the beans, as his dear departed wife Rose would have said.
Unfortunately.
The older he got Sean reflected, the more he realized that there were certain things he really didn't want to know. Sometimes he wished his oldest daughter were a better liar. It would be easier on his nerves.
Chapter 24
B
ernie sighed as she rang the bell to Bree Nottingham's house. The woman had the perfect house, the perfect husband, the perfect life. If Bree ever had a child, Bernie was positive it would be the perfect infant and would poop only perfectly shaped little turds into her perfect diaper. Just thinking about Bree made Bernie want to watch an extreme wrestling match while she chowed down on Twinkies.
Looking at the red roses climbing up the trellis, the ivy covering the trunk of the maple tree, and the antique wicker chair on the porch, Bernie reflected that the whole lot of them looked as if they could have come from the prop department of an Merchant-Ivory film.
Actually, she was surprised that Bree hadn't grown her own organic fruit for the tarts and delivered it to the store in little straw-filled, hand-woven cane baskets. There was, Bernie decided as she juggled the three tarts to keep them from falling, a lot to be said for bad taste.
“You're late,” Bree Nottingham informed her when she finally answered the door.
Bernie could tell from the flare of her nostrils that she was annoyed. “I know,” she began but before Bernie could tell her why she was, Bree was motioning her into her house.
“Some of my guests have already arrived.”
Bernie could see three people sipping margaritas and chatting as she went by the living room. I could use one of those right about now Bernie thought as she followed Bree into the kitchen.
“When I called the store Libby said you were on the way,” Bree informed her. “It only takes five minutes from the store to here. You've taken fifteen.”
“Thirteen actually.” Bernie nodded at her watch with her chin. “I had to get gas,” she explained as she put the fruit tarts down on the kitchen table. Formica, of course. Leave it to Bree to be into the whole fifties thing.
“I always fill up my tank when it gets to be half full. That way I don't inconvenience people.”
Good for you Bernie thought as she watched Bree reposition one of the pins that were holding up her French twist, a gesture that made Bernie painfully aware of just how messy her hair was.
No matter what she did with it, it always looked bad in the summer. Slick it down with product and it looked greasy, leave it to its own devices and it stuck out all over the place. At least she'd showered Bernie thought, as she looked at Bree immaculate in her linen shift dress. For a little while she'd been thinking she wouldn't even have a chance to do that.
By the time she and Libby had talked their way back out through the gate at the Raid Estateâthey'd had to explain that Libby had been overcome with a desire to pay her last respects to the site of Leeza's deathâgotten home, listened to her father's ranting about their lack of common sense, and helped Libby with the fruit tarts, not to mention done a stint behind the counter, she'd barely had time to jump in the shower let alone reapply her mascara and eyeliner.
Bernie thought about her father again. He'd been all over them when they'd walked in the door. Apoplectic was the word she'd choose to describe his state of mind if asked. Granted, he'd been worried. But there was no need for him to carry on like that.
They weren't two and four anymore. They were more than capable of handling themselves. Besides, she and Libby had never been in any danger. No one had seen them in the study. They'd managed to get through the door and close it before anyone had come in.
Bernie put the fruit tarts on the table. Hopefully by the time she got back to the store her dad would be in a better mood. Self-righteousness was so unproductive, Bernie decided as she watched Bree inspect the strawberry tart.
“Is everything all right?” she asked Bree, knowing that it wouldn't be.
Because it never was.
Bree was a person for whom no detail was too small to obsess about. In fact, Bernie realized maybe the trick to dealing with someone like Bree was to give them something obvious to criticize right off the bat. That way it would be over and done with.
“I was wondering where the strawberries came from?” Bree asked, interrupting Bernie's train of thought.
“The Stevens' farm.”
Bree pursed her lips. “They're adequate, but I think Owens's produce is better, don't you? And the next time it might be interesting if Libby scattered some finely chopped, toasted filberts across the top. For contrast.”
The thing that made Bree's suggestions so annoying, Bernie realized as she watched her pat yet another stray lock of hair back into place, was that they were always right. Owens's produce was better and the nuts would add a pleasing crunch.
“Not that it's my place to say this,” Bree added. “But I'm a little concerned that Libby will get too involved with your dad's new hobby. I would hate to see the store suffer. You know how she gets.”
“Don't worry,” Bernie said through gritted teeth.
Bree patted her arm. “One of the things I love about you is the way you always spring to your sister's defense.”
One of these days I'm going to tell her what I think of her,
Bernie promised herself as Bree asked, “So has he found anything out?”
“Lots,” Bernie lied.
Bree leaned forward. “Tell me.”
“I'd love to but I can't talk about it yet. Early stages,” Bernie found herself taking a perverse pleasure in saying.
“Poo. How disappointing.” Bree flicked an invisible piece of dust off the table top. “But I did hear that you and Esmeralda had a little chat.” She smiled at Bernie's expression. “I sold her sister her new house.”
“I didn't know she had a sister.”
“She has two.” Bree pointed to a woman coming into the kitchen. “There's one of them now. I sold her the Kleinman place. It's a perfect match.”
Bernie nodded as Bree introduced Jo Ann to her. She and Esmeralda do look alike around the eyes, Bernie thought as Jo Ann took a sip of her margarita. Strawberry from the looks of it, Bernie decided. Only Jo Ann is the prettier one.
“So where do you know Esmeralda from?” Jo Ann asked her.
Bernie was just about to answer but Bree got there first.
As per usual
, Bernie thought.
“She and her sister were the ones that were supposed to have catered Leeza's wedding.”
“Ah, yes. Such a tragedy,” Jo Ann said.
“Did you know her?” Bernie asked.
“Leeza? I met her a few times when I dropped something off at the office for Esmeralda.” Jo Ann tapped the band of her ring against her glass.
And she doesn't look as if she liked her one bit, Bernie observed. It might be interesting to hear what she has to say about her.
“I can't imagine what it was like working in an office with her,” Bernie said.
“Well . . .” Jo Ann sighed. “I don't mean to speak ill of the dead but she was a difficult person.”
“I'll say,” Bernie agreed, remembering Leeza's unending list of demands.
“It was very hard for my sister to see someone waltz in and take over, especially after working so hard for all those years. Men can be so stupid, don't you think?”
“Totally blind,” Bernie said, thinking of some of her old boyfriends.
Jo Ann frowned. “Especially when it comes to young women.”
“I'll drink to that,” Bree put in.
Jo Ann raised her glass. “Me, too.” Then she took a hefty gulp. “And that dress Leeza was making Esmeralda wear. . . .” Jo Ann shook her head at the memory.
“It was pretty bad, wasn't it?” Bernie agreed.
“Hideous,” Jo Ann said. “Not to mention absolutely unflattering.”
“So why did she agree to wear it?”
“How could she say no?” Jo Ann said.
Bernie thought for a moment. “You're right. She couldn't. I remember being in a wedding party and for some reason the bride made us all wear lime-green chiffon dresses that pouffed out in back. My ass looked like a Mack truck. So did everyone else's. It was not a pretty sight. And they were incredibly expensive on top of everything else.”
Jo Ann laughed. “So was Esmeralda's.”
“Come to think of it,” Bernie said. “How come she was Leeza's maid of honor in the first place? It doesn't sound as if either woman was the other's biggest fan.”
“No. Esmeralda really didn't like her at all.” Jo Ann rang a finger around the rim of her glass. “I can't tell you how tired I got about hearing her complain about Leeza did this and Leeza did that.”
“Then why did she agree to do it?”
“Because she's nice.”
“Hey, I'm nice, but I'm not that nice,” Bernie pointed out.
“Wearing a bad dress for someone I don't like. I don't know. It would take a lot to make me do that.”
“Actually,” Jo Ann lowered her voice, “Jura begged her to do it. Otherwise she wouldn't have.”
“She likes him a lot doesn't she?”
“Way too much.”
“Women can be pretty dense, too,” Bree observed. “Allowing themselves to be strung along. I say time is short. If you're not getting what you want, move on. Exchange that one-bedroom for a loft.”
Jo Ann took another sip of her margarita then put her glass down on the table.
“I tried to get her to change jobs once Leeza came along, but she wouldn't. She didn't want to leave Jura, not that she'd ever admit it. Her behavior is so obsessional. I can't even guess at what she sees in him. I mean I know you can't control where your heart takes you, but it's not as if we're talking about Romeo and Juliet here. She's not fourteen.” Jo Ann shrugged. “At least she finally got a raise. And, of course, there's the hunting.”
“She hunts?” Bernie couldn't control a shudder.
Jo Ann laughed. “I feel exactly the same way. It's barbaric. But my sister is a competitive shooter. Has been for years. She claims it relaxes her. Don't ask me how. Me, I'd take a massage any day. In fact, she met Jura on the rifle range. Worst thing that ever happened to her in my opinion. But then what do I know, right? I'm only her flesh and blood.
“Last year, Jura took her along on the family's annual safari to Kenya or somewhere like that. She was in heaven. Rifle and crossbow. And she insisted on showing me the video. Come to think of it, maybe seeing Leeza with an arrow stuck through her heart wouldn't have bothered her.” Jo Ann put her hand to her mouth. “I shouldn't have said that, should I?”
“It's fine,” Bernie assured her.
Jo Ann picked up her glass. “I think this should be my last margarita.”
“You should stop by our store,” Bernie told her.
“Love to.” Jo Ann turned to go, then stopped, and shook her head. “Bree, I almost forgot to tell you what I came in here for. Lucy called to tell me to tell you she's on her way.” And with that she walked out of the kitchen.
Bernie watched her leave as Bree took the tarts out of their carriers and put them on plates.
“Nice lady,” Bernie said.
“Good job, too. She sells annuities. She must make half a mil a year, although I think she could cut back on the booze a little.” Bree took another look at the fruit tarts. “Libby's really done an excellent job. Although I'm not sure I agree with the combination of kiwi and blueberries. Visually speaking, peaches and blueberries might have been a better bet.”
“The peaches were mealy.” Bernie began playing with her ring.
“So what did you think about Esmeralda's boob job?” Bree asked suddenly. Bernie frowned. “Why?”
“Because I recommended the doctor. Do you think they're a little large?”
“Maybe a tad,” Bernie allowed.
A slight frown creased Bree's forehead. “I just wish she'd consulted me about the size, but if that's what it takes to raise her self-esteem then so be it.”
“Which doctor?”
Not cheap Bernie thought when Bree mentioned one that was in all the fashion magazines.
“Now if I could just get her out of that nasty little apartment in Avalon and into something decent, I'm sure she'd feel so much better. I don't think people realize how much their surroundings affect them. I tell you Esmeralda is almost as cheap as Jura and his brothers.”
“I'd hardly call Jura cheap,” Bernie objected. “Look at what he was spending on the wedding.”
Bree shook her head. “I thought you were savvier.”
“How do you mean?”
“First of all,” Bree explained, “the wedding was for show. Jura doesn't like spending money on anything that doesn't impress. And it was probably paid for out of corporate funds.”