Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 02 - Murder Takes the Cake (21 page)

“
Because someone must have been watching you.” She paused. Mac thought his office was bugged. Someone was watching Sean? Why? “Notice anything here that shouldn’t be here?”

“
Like what?”

“
Anything that doesn’t belong–cigarette butts, clothes, food, trash, footprints, anything.”

“
Footprints? Are you serious? I haven’t been looking for stuff like that.”

She walked towards an opening in the floor, tucked into one corner of the building. A metal grate, hinged on one side, covered the hole. An open combination lock hung from a metal ring on the side opposite the hinge. She tugged on the matching metal ring that was attached to the floor. It didn
‘t move. “Is this always unlocked? What’s down there?”

“
It’s kind of a cellar. Dirt floor. Nobody uses it. I think Dad keeps it locked just to keep everyone out of there.”

“
So someone’s been down there.” She reached down and lifted the grate, swinging it upwards like the hatch of a sailing ship. They pushed it backwards and it landed on the floor with a loud clang.

Wooden steps led downward.
“Are there lights?” JJ asked.

“
No. You have to use a flashlight.”

“
I’ve got one in my car. Let’s check it out.”

“
Why? I mean how’s that going to help us figure out who ripped off my caskets?”

She raised her eyebrows.
“You mean who ripped off your father’s caskets?”

He sighed.
“I’ve got a flashlight stashed in a cabinet here. I’ll get it.”

“
Don’t worry.” JJ smiled. “We won’t stay down there long. I imagine the clues down there will just reach out and grab us.”

Chapter 16

“
I’ve got a refrigerator full of food and nothing I want to eat.” Rachel stared at the shelves, hoping something would strike her fancy for dinner. Snickers scooted nervously around her feet, waiting impatiently for the half-full pouch of Meow Mix, sitting out of reach on the third shelf, to be distributed.

Rachel closed the refrigerator door without retrieving anything and the butterscotch fur-ball stalked out of the room.

A quick glance in the pantry left Rachel still hungry and dissatisfied. She was about to re-open the refrigerator when the doorbell rang.

“
I hope that’s a pizza delivery guy who’s lost!” She pushed open the kitchen door and promptly tripped over the hungry cat stationed on the other side. “Snickers! I’m warning you, I’m on my last nerve!”

The doorbell rang again. It sounded like the pizza boy was leaning on the button.

Limping, she managed to cross the living room and fling open the front door.

Just her luck. It wasn
‘t a lost pizza boy.

“
What are you doing here?” She knew her Aunt Ella would be appalled at her less than gracious welcome, but she wasn’t feeling particularly gracious towards this private detective.

“
I brought dinner.” Mac held up a paper bag from Ebbitt Express. “Crab cakes, Caesar salad for you, macaroni and cheese for me. The crab cakes need to be warmed up a little, but I figured you could nuke’em.”

Rachel stood her ground, barring the front door and giving a steely fish-eye to the gentleman bearing gifts. Whiskey, on the other hand, didn
‘t waste a moment. She pushed past her owner and moved into the living room to deliver a few licks and woofs to her fellow nurse. A hiss from the kitchen doorway indicated Snickers wasn’t pleased with either of the two guests.

“
I also brought some flowers.” Mac thrust a bouquet of blue and white hydrangeas, wrapped in tissue paper and tied with a swirl of pink ribbon.

“
It’s a start.” Rachel stepped back from the doorway. Mac entered, still walking gingerly, but with a little more confidence.

“
I saw you like these kinds of flowers.” Mac gestured to photos on the mantle. One was taken in front of the farmhouse in Warrenton, with a riot of hydrangeas running in front of the porch. Standing in front of the bushes was a teenaged Rachel, in a graduation cap and gown, with her brother Dan and their grandfather. The other photo, right next to it, was taken in front of Rachel’s own house. This one featured Sam in cap and gown, standing in front of the blue hydrangeas that edged the front of the Rittenhouse Street house.

Rachel smiled.
“You noticed. Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely.”

“
You’re welcome.” A matching grin from Mac pierced the remaining tension.

“
A crab cake is exactly what I wanted for dinner.” Rachel headed off to the kitchen. “Why don’t you set the table in the dining room? The dishes are in the hutch.”

Whiskey trotted after Rachel, tail wagging in anticipation of dinner.
“What do you want girl? Maybe a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches?”

The long tail seemed to vibrate with joy.

Rachel took out the sandwich fixings from the refrigerator, then reached for the pouch of cat food to top off the bowl of dry morsels. Snickers seemed to materialize out of thin air. Her tail was on high alert for the canine interloper. Rachel separated the two animals’ food at either end of the kitchen, and the pets chowed down.

“
You don’t nuke crab cakes,” she admonished Mac when he joined her in the kitchen. “It makes them mushy. I’ll just run them under the broiler. Want to get yourself a beer from the refrigerator? I’m having some sweet iced tea, like my Grandma used to make.”

Mac grimaced at the sweet concoction, but poured himself a glass as well.
“I think I’m going to need a pain pill tonight to sleep so I’ll pass on the beer.”

With the food heated and plated, the flowers in a white ironstone pitcher in the middle of the table, Mac and Rachel sat down for dinner. Like everything else in her house, there was a patina of age and grace to the mahogany dining room set.

“So where did you go this afternoon?” Rachel helped herself to a crab cake and salad.

“
I needed to go into the office,” Mac said around bites of macaroni and cheese. “Edgar left me a report on Martha Martinelli and her connection to the Lasky family.”

Rachel looked up from her salad in surprise.
“Is there a connection?”

“
They overlapped at college and she helped to bring down the congressman the Lasky brothers were working for when they were on the Hill.”

Rachel snuck a taste of the Ebbett
‘s famous macaroni and cheese from Mac’s plate. Not at all like the boxed version with cheese powder and tiny elbow macaroni; this was Fusilli corkscrew pasta with cheddar cheese cream sauce and mozzarella and parmesan cheese topping. It was to die for. She smacked her lips, then blushed. Mac pushed the bowl of the rich delicacy closer.

After a few more bites, Rachel returned to Martha Martinelli.
“That kind of connection could fit a lot of people in this town. Everybody knows everybody, at least slightly.”

“
Well she also knew Brian Crager who knew Scott Merrell.” Mac added. “Could all be a coincidence but I never knew any of these people before this week, and suddenly discover that all of them knew each other and most of them are dead.”

“
Who was it who said, ‘I don’t believe in coincidence’?” Rachel mused. “Seems like someone I know uses that phrase like a personal mantra.”

Mac helped himself to the last of the pasta, once Rachel shook her head at his offer to let her finish the dish.
“I think you can count every detective who’s ever heard from a perp that it was just a coincidence he was in the bank the day it was robbed.”

Rachel laughed.
“Police work makes you cynical much?”

“
Who me?”

She started to clear the table.
“Want some coffee?”

“
Decaf, I assume.”

She didn
‘t even bother to answer, but scooted around a snoozing Whiskey, stretched out by Mac’s feet.

“
Go into the living room. I think I can scare up some cookies and you’ll find the wing chair more comfortable for your back.”

She found him there, a few minutes later, flipping through the morning Post.
“Only a brief mention of the investigation of Merrell’s death. Nothing about me. That’s a plus.”

“
I guess his murder doesn’t rank as anything more than a random homicide in this town. You hear anything from your contacts at the police department?”

Mac shook his head.
“No leads, no witnesses, and a pissed-off girlfriend demanding answers. Did you talk to Ilene Merrell?”

“
Spoke to her briefly this afternoon. She was grateful for the money. Mostly, she seemed resigned that it all ended this way, if that makes sense. Like she always expected Merrell would be killed. Not that she knew who would kill him, so much, but that he was always skating on the edge of danger, so his death wasn’t a surprise.”

Mac shifted around in the chair, looking for a more comfortable position. He finally found it.
“Speaking of surprises. Guess who came to visit this afternoon?”

Rachel handed him a mug of coffee, then took one for herself.
“No clue. You tell me about your surprise visitor and I’ll tell you about mine.”

“
Leo Lasky. He was sitting in my front room when I arrived this afternoon. I guess it was just another coincidence that he found my office open, but empty.”

Rachel frowned.
“He was just passing by, came up to the second floor, found the door unlocked, and waltzed in?”

“
Yeah, can you believe that coincidence?”

“
No.”

Mac grimaced.
“Me either. Wanted me to know that Merrell had tried to shake him down for some construction graft in Boston. Also informed me that Bridget was overwrought and needed to calm down in order to keep her loving fiancé. He was definitely marking familial territory.”

“
Son of a bitch.”

“
Yeah. But um, about that.”

Rachel looked up confused.
“Marking territory?”

Mac waved it off.
“Lasky was doing a lot of communicating without saying the words. Asked if I would be at the O’Herlihy Thanksgiving table. I sort of think.…”

“
Absolutely. You need to be there,” Rachel said.

“
I know Kathleen invited you. Why don’t you come too?”

Rachel shook her head.
“Thanks. This is a family thing. You go on. I might go away or volunteer in the church soup kitchen. I’ll be fine.”

“
But–” Mac started.

“
Seriously. It’s no big deal. Besides you had one kind of rat this afternoon, and I had one too.”

Mac raised an eyebrow in question.

“You know those missing caskets?”

Mac nodded.

“To my astonishment, one of them reappeared in the casket room today. No bangs, scrapes, or gouges, but with a little something extra.”

Mac waited.

“A dead rat was the unexpected bonus I found when I checked out the casket’s interior.”

“
You think one got trapped inside when it was stolen?”

“
I doubt it. Not unless someone left the lid open and a rat happened by at the right time.”

“
Rats, alive and dead, seem to be a theme lately.” Mac stirred his coffee. “Bridget got one, and now you got one too.”

Rachel looked astonished.
“When did Bridget get.…” Her hands finished the sentence.

“
About a month ago; when the threats started. She got one in the mail. Threw it away and didn’t show it to anyone.”

“
Maybe it is a coincidence, since I can’t see a connection between the Boston mess and a dead rat in one of Jeff’s caskets.”

Mac took a long draw on his coffee.
“Like I’ve been saying, I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“
Yeah, me neither.” She waited but he didn’t say anything else. The silence was a little awkward. Perhaps they both needed some time to figure things out. She’d been surprised to find him at her door after his disappearing act. Maybe he was having second thoughts about coming back.

He shifted in his chair, obviously uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you take a pain pill? I’d bet next month’s electric bill you didn’t take one this afternoon.”

“
No, I need to–”

“
You can stay here tonight if you promise to keep your hands off my plumbing.” She couldn’t resist teasing him a little.

The quip worked. She got a real smile out of him.

“Okay. But someday when I’m feeling better, watch out.”

“
We’ll see.” She wasn’t going to hold her breath on that promise.

“
Do you think you could give me a ride to the funeral home in the morning? Jeff offered to loan me another vehicle since the police are still digging bullets out of my last one.”

“
No problem. What time do–”

The telephone rang waking both the dog and cat.

“Excuse me.” Rachel walked back into the kitchen, Snickers and Whiskey following close at her heels in case the trip meant more food.

“
Hi. How are you?” She leaned back against the counter as she listened to Kathleen apologize for interrupting her dinner, update her on the latest wedding snafu, and then inquire as to when she’d last seen Sean.

Snickers hopped up on the counter and rubbed against her, reminding her of her undying devotion and her need for occasional treats.

Whiskey positioned herself a polite six inches away, her large brown eyes missing nothing.

“
Sean? It’s been a couple of hours.” Rachel glanced at the clock. Almost 8:00 P.M. “No, wait, it’s been more like four hours. We went through the security system training, then he took off. He’s not home yet?”

“
No.” Kathleen sighed. “And he promised to pick up some rolls for dinner tonight. I don’t know where his mind’s been lately. I talk to him and it’s like he’s not even in the same universe. He actually doesn’t seem to hear me.”

Rachel laughed.
“I’ve been there. Their ears stop functioning at twelve and don’t start working again until after age eighteen. Of course at that point they may care what you say, but they still do what they want.”

There was some commotion in the background and Kathleen mumbled something about a roast and the house burning down if she didn
‘t take it out of the oven.