Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 02 - Murder Takes the Cake (18 page)

JJ shook her head. On that topic he was like a dog with a bone.
“Hey, old man. I wasn’t just humoring Bridget. I really can’t see the Laskys being involved.”

“
Okay. Fine.” He crossed his arms. “Let’s play it like this. You look for anything that shows Martha had been in touch with Brian Crager, Scott Merrell, or any Boston police officers. And if you happen to see the name Lasky, don’t ignore it. Also see what she might have been working on recently. Check her appointment book–better yet copy it.”

“
All right.” JJ grinned. “I’m not sure Martha Martinelli has anything to do with what’s going on, but field work always beats processing past due accounts.”

“
There you go,” Edgar said, eyes dancing. “I always suspected you had some grit in you.”

“
Can the John Wayne lingo. I said yes, already.” JJ stood up. Even if she’d had to use her own money, she wished she’d purchased the lipstick digital camera she’d seen in the Spy Stuff magazine. “You know this could take awhile. And since you’re not what I would call a fascinating conversationalist, you’d better make sure the secretary orders an expensive meal so she doesn’t leave in the middle, no matter what you do or say.”

Edgar laughed.
“I’ll do my part. Now go get into costume and call me when you’re outside the radio station. I’m supposed to pick up Felicia at 1:00 P.M. Sharp.”

***

“I didn’t expect you today,” Jeff said, as Rachel came in the front door of the funeral home. “I thought you’d be busy keeping Mac from starting anymore home repair projects.”

“
He took two pills, so he’s officially off the grid until late this afternoon. We’re shorthanded with Carrie studying for finals and I know Kathleen needs you to help with the wedding plans. I should be here.” She was feeling a little guilty about how much time she’d been taking off. She knew Jeff understood, but the work ethic instilled in her at an early age by her grandfather was urging her to earn her paycheck.

“
Thanks. I do have to leave in a few minutes. Kathleen thinks I need a new tux. We’re going to negotiate on whether that means buying or renting. Either way, my afternoon is going to be shot. Can you meet with the security guy in an hour? He wants to explain how to arm and disarm the new system. I cancelled, but if you’re going to be here….”

“
Sure. Call them back and I’ll handle it.” Rachel walked towards her office. “I also want to check the inventory. We’ve both been in and out a lot these last couple of days. And with the incident with JJ…. Anyway, I’ll get that done this afternoon. Let’s hope for a few quiet hours.”

“
Oh, and Rachel?”

She turned and faced Jeff.
“Yes?”

“
We haven’t had a chance to talk about Fletcher Dalton. You know I’d never prevent you from–”

Rachel shook her head.
“His offer was flattering, but I’m happy where I am. Besides, he’d probably expect me to work a normal eight hour day, five days a week.” She smiled. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate you giving me time off to deal with my crazy personal life.”

“
You more than earn your salary. Don’t think a thing about it. I know about ‘crazy’.” He called over his shoulder as he rushed out the front doors. “You’re a good woman, Rachel Brenner. If I didn’t already have my Kathleen, I’d give Mac Sullivan a run for his money.”

She sighed.
“Wouldn’t be much of a race. A fast walk would put you in the lead.”

***

Having gotten the all-clear from Edgar, JJ wheeled the handcart into the elevator at the radio station. The cart was loaded with a stack of flattened cardboard boxes she’d purchased at a moving company. The coveralls she wore were a little big, but she didn’t have time to do any more altering than a quick taped hem job and a few tucks with some safety pins. The tool belt, holding rolls of packing tape and markers, disguised the extra fabric at the waist.

Martha Martinelli
‘s office door was unlocked. Edgar had told her he’d handle that by getting the secretary to retrieve something from the room and then distracting her from relocking it. The old man was good at being a distraction. She knew from experience he was hard to ignore.

She checked her watch and set the alarm. Ninety minutes before she had to leave. JJ opened up one of the packing boxes and taped three sides. If anyone walked by the glass-enclosed office, they wouldn
‘t be suspicious.

“
Okay, Martha. Tell me all about yourself.”

The room had an L-shaped desk, bookcase, and two large lateral filing cabinets. Starting with the desk she looked through everything on top.

Two thin files with information about potential guests–one was a politician with a pending, controversial gun control bill, the other a specialist on DNA. She put them aside for the moment. If she had time, she’d use the copy machine in the outer office before she left.

A black leather day planner caught her attention. She scanned the appointments for the week before Martha
‘s death. It appeared the radio host worked a forty-to-fifty hour workweek. She was on-air for two hours each morning. Afternoons were spent doing research and meeting with potential interviewees. JJ only recognized a few names: a couple of politicians; a major New York publisher; and a mega-church evangelist. She flipped the pages backward, looking at the entire month of November. There it was. Damn, the old man might be on to something.

JJ pulled a digital recorder out of one of the large pockets in the coveralls. She spoke into the microphone.
“November 1, 3:00 P.M.–Meeting with Brian C.–Regarding Theresa.” She turned to the next page and spoke again, “November 3, 5:30 P.M.–Telephone call from Lasky. Invitation to dinner on November 15. Jimmy’s?” JJ squinted at the smudged note underneath the entry. It looked like the phrase, “Ghosts from the past popping up everywhere.” JJ repeated the information into the recorder. She wondered if Martha made her dinner date with one of the Laskys. There was no entry on the November 15th page concerning Lasky or any dinner plans. JJ wondered if it was only a coincidence that on November 16, Martha was found dead at home in her bed.

***

“You called?” Bridget walked through Rachel’s front door, barely hiding her irritation. “Josh and I are due at the Willard in thirty minutes for yet another excruciating round of ‘can you top this tacky wedding plan’.”

Josh Lasky walked in behind his fiancée, he too, barely masking his annoyance.
“Give it a rest, Bridget. So my father and your mother would like to give us a lovely wedding day. Is that’s a mortal sin in your book?”

Mac regretted his decision to call Jeff to help him escape from Rachel
‘s, and for that matter, Whiskey’s, constant hovering. Only after he’d announced his plan to take a pain pill and then a nap, did Rachel reluctantly decide to go to work. She’d grilled him. “Are you really, really sure you’ll be alright alone?”

He chuckled remembering. It wasn
‘t like he hadn’t had forty-something years of taking care of himself.

“
Where’s your father?” Mac asked, he too not making any effort to hide his frustration. He had neither the time nor patience to play referee for the couple.

“
We’re subbing for him.” Bridget suddenly grinned. “Mom dragged him, kicking and screaming, to a tuxedo shop. Seems he wants to wear the tux he wore to his senior prom. I said ‘go for it,’ but Mom and the Laskys think a powder blue tuxedo with a ruffled shirt will screw up the wedding photos.”

Josh frowned.
“Yet another Bridget slam about wanting to bring a touch of class to our wedding.”

“
Josh, chill out will you? I love you but sometimes you act like you have a stick–”

“
Hey, I’m impressed Jeff could still get into it.” Mac laughed, interrupting Bridget in an attempt to ward off an explosion until after they dropped him at his office. “Wait, I have that same tuxedo in a closet. We’ll rent a matching one for Sean, and then sing old Temptations songs.” He started to go into a Doo-Wop routine and instantly groaned. It would be hard to be a backup singer with a slipped disk.

“
I hope you haven’t been drinking on top of your medication.” Josh checked his watch. “Are we dropping you off at your apartment, Mr. Sullivan?”

“
Call me Mac. And I make it a policy not to drink before happy hour unless circumstances absolutely demand it or someone else is buying.”

“
I realize that last part is supposed to be a joke.” Josh raised his eyebrows. “Seriously, I wish more people moderated their alcohol intake. They don’t realize the impact their drinking has on others. I don’t mean to rush you, but.…” He checked his watch again, in case Mac didn’t get the hint.

“
I need to go to my office. I’d have called a cab, but they’re getting picky about dogs riding along. Whiskey refuses to cooperate by wearing a hat and dark glasses.”

Whiskey barked in complaint.

Bridget held open the front door. “No problem, Uncle Mac. We’ll drop the two of you off and then head over to the Willard.”

Mac shuffled down the front steps and stopped in front of Bridget
‘s white PT Cruiser convertible. His back started to ache in anticipation of the ride.

Bridget seemed to understand the situation immediately.
“Get in the front seat, Uncle Mac. Josh will ride in back with Whiskey.”

Mac made some obligatory noises of protest, while mentally upping Bridget
‘s wedding gift in gratitude. He slowly folded his body into the cramped front seat.

Whiskey licked Josh
‘s hand, as a gesture of friendship.

“
Maybe I should call a cab,” Josh began, pulling out a silk handkerchief to wipe his hand.

“
Don’t be a baby,” Bridget answered while urging Whiskey into the backseat. “It’s just a fifteen minute ride.”

“
Why doesn’t Josh drive and you ride in the back?” Mac asked. He grimaced as he pulled the seatbelt across his chest.

“
I don’t know how to drive a stick shift.” Josh squeezed into the backseat, pushing a sociable Whiskey off his lap.

“
Don’t like dogs?” Mac asked.

“
No, no. I love them. I’m just allergic to the long-haired.…” His chain of sneezes completed the answer.

“
Whiskey, get off Josh,” Mac ordered.

The dog whined and tried to move to the far side of the backseat, but there wasn
‘t much space to maneuver.

Josh waved off Mac
‘s concern. “I’m okay. Just going to open the window for a little fresh air. I guess it’s too cold to put the top down?”

Bridget laughed.
“The top is staying up. You’ll be okay. Stick your head out the window.”

Pulling his coat around him as the cool air hit the back of his neck, Mac asked,
“How’d you two meet?”

Bridget winked.
“I picked him up at a bar.”

Mac
‘s eyebrows met his receding hairline. “What the hell, Bridget. What are you doing picking up strange men–”

“
Excuse me?” Josh yelped. “I don’t think I qualify as–”

“
Sorry.” Mac twisted, painfully, to face the backseat. “You know what I mean.”

Turning back to his goddaughter, Mac continued.
“Have you done this before? Picked up men in bars. Is there a string of men I should be looking at as possible suspects?”

Bridget
‘s laughter echoed off the walls of the small car. “Calm down, Uncle Mac. Seems like your sense of humor is also in a spasm. You used to be able to take a joke, not just make them.”

“
That was before somebody shot me and tried to kill you,” Mac growled.

“
Or not,” Josh muttered, picking dog hair off his sleeve. “Everything that’s happened could just be an accident. Well, not you and that rogue cop getting shot, but the rest.”

“
Josh!” Bridget looked in her rearview mirror. “Let’s don’t argue about it again, today, okay?”

The backseat passenger nodded.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“
Me, too,” Mac said, not sure he had anything to be sorry about, but saying it anyway.

Bridget reached over the gearshift and patted Mac
‘s hand. “Back to your original question, I met Josh at a bar in Cambridge. I’d gone with some friends after a movie. He was there with some of his buddies, the dullest bunch of young lawyers and doctors you’d ever want to see. All of them were more worried about their 401k plans than in actually helping anyone.”

“
Bridget!” Josh protested. “We agreed to not put down each other’s friends.”

“
You’re right, Josh. Sorry.” Bridget winked at Mac. “Anyway, Jeff was drowning his post-breakup sorrows with tequila shots. His bitch girlfriend had dumped him two weeks earlier.”