Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 02 - Murder Takes the Cake (12 page)

Ilene Merrell glanced up at the light. It had turned red, then green, then red again. Rachel knew that with the next green light, Ilene Merrell would be gone.

Rachel grabbed hold of Merrell’s dirty sleeve. “Tell me why your husband is in D.C. and I promise Mac and I’ll find him. We’ll get him to sign away any interest in the house, the car, and the kids.”

Ilene Merrell snorted.
“I can’t afford you. Hell, I can’t afford the lawyer I have. Slimeball told me that he’d gotten Scott to deed the house over to me in exchange for me giving up all rights to his police pension. I don’t want anything but the house and the car, but all of a sudden the slimeball seems to be working with the cops and says he’s not sure Scott signed any papers. That I could lose my house.”

“
Hell, no.” Rachel said with a vehemence that surprised her and Ilene. “Charlie, that’s my ex, tried to get half of my house and that wasn’t going to happen. I’ll be damned if he was going to bring his girlfriend into my house.”

Ilene Merrell nodded in agreement.

“Tell me where you think he’s gone.”

“
You think you can find him when the cops can’t?” Ilene laughed.

“
I work with a guy who could find Jimmy Hoffa’s body if the FBI would just ask.” Rachel couldn’t fathom why she thought that would resonate with Ilene Merrell. Desperation didn’t leave time for great metaphors.

“
I think he might be in D.C. looking up an old army buddy of his. He got a call from him about a month ago. They were in the first Gulf war together and something went down that Scott never talked about. It was like.…” Ilene Merrell seemed at a loss for words, then as if she figured it out, she went on. “Whatever it was, it was something really bad. I think Scott saved this guy’s life and maybe that’s why Scott went down to Virginia. To collect on the debt. Maybe he thought the farm would be a good place to hide until the heat died down.”

Merrell stubbed out her cigarette on the bus shelter
‘s wall, then threw it on the ground. She dug in her purse and pulled out an old photo and a pen. She wrote her telephone number on the back.

“
Our church had a fundraiser about three years. Photographer came in and took family photos. We gave them as Christmas presents to our families.”

Rachel glanced down at the photo of the happy family: Scott, Ilene, and their boys, grinning at the world.

Merrell gave the photo to Rachel. She shook her head. “My boys have grown ten inches each since then, but Scott pretty much looks the same.”

“
Thanks, this will help. I’ll get it back to you.”

“
Don’t bother. I’ve got more.” Merrell stood. “I’ve got to get home to the kids. You find Scott, you promise to call me?”

Rachel slid the photo into her purse.
“I give you my word.”

Ilene Merrell trudged across the street. Rachel headed back to Silkie
‘s. She wanted that cup of coffee and a few words with Mac.

***

“You going to a costume party?”

He was one to talk, JJ thought, tugging on her suit jacket. Sean O
‘Herlihy, the sixteen- year-old who two months ago wanted nothing more than to go pro at bass fishing, had traded in his jeans and t-shirts for a grungy black trench coat and a couple of piercings. The one in his ear lobe was infected.

“
Where did all the glass come from?” JJ reached down and picked up one of a dozen tiny blue shards from the carpet in Jeff O’Herlihy’s office.

“
Mom broke a flower vase. She was having an argument with Josh’s stepmother.” Sean grinned and handed her a can of Diet Coke. “You should have seen it! Flowers, glass, and water everywhere. Bridget said something about eloping. I hope she doesn’t; this wedding is turning out to be really cool! Did you hear about the mugger at the restaurant last night?”

“
Yeah. I heard.” JJ sat down on the sofa and popped the top on the soda can.” That must have been exciting. Don’t think Ms. Brenner had much fun though.”

“
Cops said she did some sick moves on the guy. Damn!” He plopped down next to her. “I was across the street, grabbing a smoke, and missed the whole thing.”

“
You smoke?”

He grinned.
“Sure. Don’t you?”

“
I’m allergic; makes my eyes red.” JJ took a sip of her drink. “I don’t date smokers.”

“
I hardly ever smoke. Just once in awhile, usually with my friends.” He glanced sideways at her. “I was thinking of giving it up.”

“
Cool.”

“
Would you–”

“
You didn’t see who attacked Ms. Brenner?”

“
No.”

“
How about your friends?”

“
Huh?”

“
You were meeting with your friends outside the restaurant, weren’t you? Maybe they saw something.”

Sean stared at her in surprise.
“How did you–”

“
You said you smoke with your friends. Did you tell the police about them?”

He shifted uncomfortably.
“Topic didn’t come up. Besides, they didn’t see anything.”

“
Can I talk to them?”

Sean got to his feet.
“They’re not exactly…I mean we’re tight and everything but.…” He glanced in her direction, not quite meeting her eyes. “There’s a party. Tomorrow night. You could go with me and talk to them there.”

***

“Where have you been?”

JJ jumped. She hadn
‘t heard Edgar’s scooterchair. She had been lost in her head thinking about Sean’s party and how she was going to have to make it clear to him that he was way too young for her. Yeah, she’d played on his attraction for her, a little. But she figured detectives have to use what they’ve got. Finding out what Sean and his friends knew about the attack on Rachel Brenner was worth a few hurt feelings.

“
Hey, missy, you daydreaming or what?”

“
Call me JJ or don’t speak to me. I’ve been interviewing witnesses to the mugging. What have you been doing?”

“
Talking to a man about a dog.”

“
What?” The old man really was crazy. She would never understand why Mac thought Edgar Freed was anything more than a liability. “Jeff O’Herlihy left and took Whiskey for a run in the park over an hour ago.”

“
I’m not senile, missy! I know that! I was right there when he offered up that sorry excuse to vacate the premises. O’Herlihy doesn’t look like a runner. That man wanted out, if you ask me. Can’t blame him either, too many females in this place today talking about wedding foolishness. I think he was glad Mac had arranged for us to be here today to watch Bridget. Gave him a chance to grab a few hours of peace.”

“
If you weren’t talking about Jeff O’Herlihy or Whiskey, why did you say you were talking to a man about a dog?”

“
It’s just an expression; po-lite way of saying none of your business!”

“
Mac left me–”

“
In charge. Yeah, that’s what you said, but I’m not taking much stock in that until I hear Mac tell me that personal like.”

She wasn
‘t getting paid enough for this. “Did you talk to Bridget or any of the Laskys or not?”

“
Talked with all of them. Bridget and her mother are okay, but the rest of them are a bunch of losers. Kathleen and Helen were fighting over what kind of ceremony it was going to be–Jewish or Catholic or something called non-denominational. Joshua kept himself out of it by taking business calls, at least that’s what he said they were, on his cell phone the whole time. The uncle–Leo–he was AWOL and for some reason Joshua wanted him there. Now you tell me why a grown man needs his whole extended family to help him pick out en-trees! And the stepmother? Helen Lasky has the shrillest voice I’ve ever heard coming from a female or for that matter a human being. Her husband kept drinking Scotch from a silver flask he had in his pocket. Probably stays drunk most of the time, just so he can stand to listen to his wife’s voice. I tell you, I wouldn’t give you a plug nickel for any of them.”

“
I’m not even going to ask you what a plug nickel is. Hopefully you can put all your observations in a report for Mac.” JJ sighed looking down the empty hallway. “Where’s Bridget now? Are you keeping track of her?”

“
That’s why I came to find you. They’re all packing it up and moving the show to the Willard. Paul Lasky has arranged for the use of a conference room so they can sample wedding cakes and decide on a couple for the big shebang. We’ve been invited by Kathleen to participate. Between you and me, Paul Lasky is probably thinking about the hotel bar more than any cake tasting. But Helen Lasky made a big to-do about not wanting to bring food into a funeral home. So Kathleen agreed to the relocation. Those Laskys are losers, I tell you. Anyway, I’m thinking we need to follow them on over to the hotel to keep an eye on Bridget and back up Kathleen. That woman is way out-numbered. Besides, I wouldn’t mind a little cake and coffee break about now.”

JJ nodded.
“Fine. You go eat cake and guard Bridget. I’ll wait here for Jeff and Whiskey to get back. When Mac calls, I don’t want to have to tell him I don’t know where his dog is.”

“
They’re fixing to lock this place up for the day. Even Ms. Byrd, the receptionist is going to the hotel with the family. You sure you want to be here by yourself?”

“
Martha is still here. Maybe she and I will have a little chat.”

“
Don’t joke about stuff like that, missy! Never know what might be listening, just waiting for you to invite them into this world.”

JJ laughed.
“You’re joking again, right? You believe in ghosts?”

Edgar turned his scooter chair towards the exit.
“I’m not taking a stand one way or another on the issue. I’m just saying if you hear a voice coming from a coffin, ignore it. Don’t open no doors…or lids as the case may be…to the spirit world, there’s enough going on right here in this one to deal with. You want to know what’s going on over there, wait awhile. We’ll all have a chance to view it firsthand soon enough.”

Chapter 10

Despite what she said to Edgar, the funeral home was a little creepy, especially with everyone gone. JJ wandered out of the public rooms and couldn’t resist testing her skills and nerve by opening the private door leading down to the basement. The door was locked–that slowed her down about three minutes. She was out of practice. “Thank you, Uncle Hugo.” He wasn’t really her uncle, just one of a series of foster parents that had crossed her and her brother’s path the year she was twelve. The skill had come in handy more times than she could count. She never stole anything big, just enough to keep them from living on the streets. When she was old enough for someone to hire her full time, she gave up her life of crime. She’d never gotten caught. Lately, she’d realized it might have been easier for everyone–especially for her brother, if she had.

“
Yeah, girl. You were good! Fearless too!” She flipped on the overhead lights and walked down the tiled floor, her high heels clicking on the hard surface. “Can’t let that old man spook you. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

The hallway had the odor of pine and formaldehyde. Several doors were on her left, offices maybe. One had a small desk, complete with a computer, phone with a flashing message light, and a photo of Rachel
‘s son Sam, his best friend Ray Kozlowski, and Carrie Taylor. She’d met the teen trio right after she’d started working for Mac. Sam and Ray were okay, but she’d never hit it off with Carrie.

JJ looked at the contents of the bookshelf behind the desk. Makeup, lotion, brushes, nail polish, and various art supplies. Must be where Carrie worked. Guess she had the holidays off or maybe she was taking finals at Concordia.

“Good old Carrie. Bet you weren’t worrying about rent money when you were in Junior High.” Truth be told she envied Carrie’s ability to work and go to college. Maybe next semester she’d sign up for a class or two. She was only about 40 hours short of getting her degree in computer science.

The sound of an elevator moving and the doors clanging open startled her from her musings.

“Loud ghosts.” She grinned and walked towards the office doorway. “Sounds like O’Herlihy’s is getting a fresh delivery. Jeff must be back with some business.” Mac had told her about some of Jeff’s extracurricular business ventures. The delivery could be anything from bodies to beer to oranges.

The sound from a metal gurney bouncing off a wall echoed through the basement like a gunshot. Loud male cursing followed. JJ paused, still inside the office. There were at least two voices. Neither were Jeff
‘s. She waited and listened, hearing more banging and then a glass breaking. Instinct had her flipping off the office light and pushing the door almost closed. She toed off her high heels.

She should have gone with Edgar.

***

“
Italian Cream or Raspberry Amaretto?”

“
Got anything chocolate?”

The waiter nodded.
“White Chocolate Mousse Apricot?”

“
Why not!” Edgar smiled and accepted a thin slice of the sample wedding cake. He had already tried several others. The free cake was good but he was beginning to wish he’d stopped off for a sandwich before arriving at the Willard. He was hungry for real food, but wasn’t about to max out his credit card paying for a hamburger in this swanky place.

He may have missed lunch, but by moving back and forth though the crowd of Laskys and O
‘Herlihys, he had managed to pick up on the major conversation threads and some of the underlying tensions. Money was a big one. The Laskys had lots of it and wanted to make sure everyone knew it. To a one, they also thought their money bought them control–control of the wedding plans and the O’Herlihys. The O’Herlihys didn’t agree. The latest volley of words had been over holding the wedding at the Willard. The O’Herlihys, although fairly well-heeled, couldn’t afford it.

“
Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Freed?”

Bridget
‘s finance, Joshua, the pompous jerk, had finally taken notice of him. He was standing next to him, a drink in hand.

Edgar nodded.
“If you’re making the decision on the cake, I’d recommend the Italian Cream. The White Chocolate has a heavy waxy aftertaste.”

“
Really! I’ll pass that information on to my stepmother. She’s planning the wedding for Bridget and me.”

“
Funny.” Edgar moved his scooter chair to one side so a waiter could fill his empty coffee cup. “I always thought the bride’s family did the wedding planning–they’re usually the ones footing the bill!”

Joshua face twisted into something Edgar assumed was supposed to be a smile.
“That’s an outdated convention, especially when the groom’s family has a greater ability to take over that responsibility and a willingness to shoulder the burden.”

“
Kathleen O’Herlihy doesn’t act like planning her daughter’s wedding is any burden.”

“
Mrs. O’Herlihy is a fine woman, but she hasn’t had the advantages that would enable her to handle this kind of society wedding.” Joshua took a healthy swallow from his drink. “We’re more than happy to help. I’m sure when she’s had time to consider the options and think about what’s best for her daughter’s happiness, she and Mr. O’Herlihy will be more amenable to letting my family make the necessary arrangements.”

Yeah right. The guy was seriously underestimating the O
‘Herlihys, especially Kathleen. “So Joshua, what do you do for a living when you’re not busy helping others see the wisdom of doing things the Lasky way?”

Joshua laughed.
“Mr. Freed, I truly hope I don’t come across as that overbearing. I want this wedding to be perfect for Bridget. She’s had some rough times back in Boston. She deserves to be happy.”

“
Happy is good.” Edgar took a sip of his coffee. Damn the Willard had great coffee. Probably make a fine $50 hamburger too. “What did you say you did for a living?”

“
Corporate law. I belong to the same law firm as my father and uncle.”

“
Lasky, Lasky, and more Lasky?”

“
Something like that. Although technically I work for another division.”

“
You don’t report to your father or uncle?”

“
No. I had to apply like anyone else and if my boss doesn’t like my work, he’s free to fire me.”

“
Right,” Edgar said. “And pigs have wings.”

“
Seriously. I have to earn my position in the firm.”

“
Where’d you go to college? Bet all three of you have the same alma mater.”

“
Yes, we’re all Harvard men.”

“
Surprised you haven’t thought about politics.” Edgar really wasn’t expecting Joshua to open up about his family’s time in D.C. and the Martha Martinelli interview, but he thought he’d probe the subject a little–see what surfaced.

Joshua shrugged and emptied his glass.
“Politics? Maybe someday. My dad and uncle dabbled in it between college and law school. I considered it, but my family advised against it. They don’t seem to think I have the temperament for it.”

“
A drinking problem isn’t much of a detriment for a politician these days.” Enough with the niceties, Edgar figured it was time to push a few buttons.

“
That’s not what they–I don’t have a drinking problem.” Joshua’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?”

“
Your father might have mentioned his concerns to me–just in passing, you know. I used to have a bit of a problem when I was young too. After I got back from Korea, I–”

“
If anyone has a drinking problem, it’s my father! My uncle and I’ve had to clean up more…Excuse me; I need to make a call.”

Edgar watched Joshua hurry out of the conference room. He wasn
‘t sure what he’d learned from that tête-à-tête. He’d have to think about it. Probably another slice of cake would help.

***

“I think you might have a problem,” JJ whispered into her cell phone. She had managed to slip back up the basement steps without being detected. Just in case Jeff had been expecting a delivery, she thought she’d better call him before doing anything else. “Did you know people are downstairs? I heard noises.”

“
Are the people alive or dead?”

“
What?”

“
It’s not that unusual for some of our clients to have a last hurrah; make a little noise; kick up their heels.”

She
‘d heard Jeff O’Herlihy was a little out there but this was too much. “Listen to me! I think someone…more than one…at least two people have broken in to your business.”

“
I heard you. If they’re dead, they’re probably supposed to be there. And even if they’re not supposed to be there, we could always use the business. Don’t get many walk-ins though.”

“
Are you crazy? I’m telling you someone has broken in and you’re cracking jokes?”

“
Calm down. I’m just trying to keep you from freaking out. I’m only a couple of miles away from the funeral home. Whiskey sends her regards and suggests you lock yourself in one of the upstairs offices until we get there.”

“
Right. If they’re after money, they’ll break into the locked rooms. I’m going to find someplace to hide in plain sight.” She heard a clang and then a humming sound from the back of the building. “Gotta hang up now–the service elevator is moving. Tell Whiskey to keep her regards and call the cops.”

“
Be careful. It looks like a traffic jam up ahead–”

JJ hung up on him. Putting her cell phone back in her purse, she ducked her head and slid the long thin strap across her body, freeing her hands in case she had to defend herself. Not that she was planning on being proactive–last time that happened she got shot. One thing she
‘d learned–bullets really, really hurt. She padded in her stocking feet towards the viewing room. Martha Martinelli probably wouldn’t mind the company.

***

“Why exactly are you here?” Leo Lasky sat down at the table where Edgar was parked. “I’ve been trying to figure out your connection to Bridget and nothing comes to mind. Are you a relative?”

Edgar made one last note in his logbook before responding. He
‘d thought about calling it a journal or a diary. Journal seemed too hoity-toity and diary reminded him of a twelve-year-old girl’s ramblings. No, he liked the term logbook. His scooter was kind of like a ship moving through the world and a logbook fit. Now here he was, moving through international waters and someone–a Lasky–was circling like a shark, seeing if he was a danger to their claimed territory. Good! He was hoping to stir up the waters.

“
A relative? Yep, you could say that.” He put his log into his jacket pocket. “You’re the uncle right? Why are you wasting time tasting cakes and choosing flowers?”

“
I was in town on business and since I’m very fond of Joshua, thought I’d take this opportunity to spend some time with him. I couldn’t care less about the wedding plans.”

“
Interesting.” Edgar smiled. “I thought maybe you were here visiting old friends.”

“
That too.”

“
Martha Martinelli?”

The man
‘s blue eyes turned into ice chips. “Who did you say you were? Exactly?”

“
I didn’t say…exactly.”

Lasky gestured towards the pocket where Edgar
‘s logbook was stored. “Are you a reporter? Bad enough that my nephew’s fiancée is one of those dirt mongers. I should have remembered that D.C. was always crawling with reporters. Are you trying to dig up some kind of scandal? Something to ruin my nephew’s wedding?”

“
My deadline is tomorrow morning–8 A.M.” Edgar wasn’t a reporter in the truest sense, but he was going to be doing a lot of writing, finishing up his background checks on Joshua and his father. Might as well include the uncle too. Mac was bound to ask for that next. “You want to comment on my story, now’s the time.”

“
Comment on what? What’s your story? Bridget’s paranoia about her police buddies getting revenge after her Boston exposés?”

Edgar wasn
‘t sure how much Bridget had told her family or the Laskys about the threats on her life. He wasn’t about to give out any information. He waited for the silence to spur the other man on.

It did. Leo kept talking.

“Yes, I can see you know what I mean. My nephew has spoken to me about Bridget’s imaginings. Probably pre-wedding jitters, but just in case she’s in any real danger, Joshua is going to demand she quit her job right after the honeymoon. Whatever is going on, if anything is, will be over in a few weeks. You’d be better off finding a real story.”

“
Oh, I’m working on a bigger story than police corruption.” Edgar figured he’d go for broke. “I’ve got a lead on Martha Martinelli’s murder. Want to tell me again how long you’ve been in D.C.? Exactly?”