Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 02 - Murder Takes the Cake (7 page)

He
‘d been running late all afternoon. He’d argued for 20 minutes with the casket manufacturer about replacing the stolen coffins and he still didn’t know who was going to pony up for the new stock. It’s not like he had a lot of extra cash available, not with Bridget’s wedding coming up and the bidding war he’d gotten into with Dalton Funeral Homes Inc. two months earlier when he’d purchased Franklin’s. In the end he’d only won out because he’d agreed to keep on any of Franklin’s people who wanted to stay. Won? Yeah, he’d won the round, but not the war. Dalton was hanging around, undercutting his prices and stealing his business.

The Martinelli funeral was one he
‘d managed to nail down before the Daltons knew the talk show host was dead. The sister had called him, said someone at the hospital had given her his card. Thinking of that initial call, reminded him he still had to find someone on the staff to work during the visitation hours for Martha Martinelli. The turnout for the recently departed radio host had been heavy the night before. The family was waiting for a distant relative to arrive, so the funeral wasn’t for a couple of days. At the sister’s request the normal one day of visitation had been extended to three–which created all kinds of scheduling problems. He was going to have to do some shuffling to keep other funerals on time.

Of course, just as he was leaving work, he
‘d gotten a call from Kathleen. He’d had to stop at Safeway for a lengthy list of must-have items his formerly saintly wife had demanded. What the hell were cornichons anyway? Something about decorating the cheese platter, but he’d tuned her out as soon as he heard what sounded suspiciously like French. Why didn’t she just say pickles?

There hadn
‘t been a home-cooked meal in the house in ten days, and probably only a handful since Bridget had announced her engagement six weeks earlier. It was true Kathleen had been cooking nonstop, but none of it was for him to eat. It was all prepared for the ‘in-laws.’

Who the hell had come up with that phrase? In-laws. Outlaws was more like it. Hadn
‘t Josh Lasky, a fancy-schmancy lawyer, as his grandmother of blessed memory would call him, hadn’t he stealthily wormed his way into his little girl’s life and stolen her heart…and, apparently, Kathleen’s sanity.

Jeff
‘s stomach grumbled loudly. He sighed and stared mournfully at the links of Italian salami and chunks of cheese artfully arranged on a cheese platter. The Lasky clan was running late and all food in the house was off-limits.

“
Hell with it,” he growled. Then looked around to be sure his wife was nowhere in the vicinity. Food was off-limits and so were any words Kathleen now deemed too coarse for the virgin Lasky ears. He cautiously slipped a few crackers from the plate, reshuffling them to hide any extra space on the platter, and offered up a prayer the food police in his house wouldn’t notice.

Munching on the purloined goodies, he wondered if he might slice a little
Genoa salami to tide him over. He shook his head. He might be an undertaker, but he didn’t have that much of a death wish. If Kathleen smelled salami on his breath, the wrath of Hell would be unleashed.

He now knew for sure there was life on other planets. What else could explain the stranger sharing his bed? Surely aliens had abducted his Kathleen, the sane, gorgeous woman he
‘d married almost 31 years earlier. Instead he was living with a cruel doppelganger who had announced the previous evening that she had thrown out his stash of frozen Mallomar cookies because he needed to lose at least ten pounds before walking his baby daughter down the aisle. If that wasn’t bad enough, she had proceeded to inform him that as part of his new diet, she wasn’t buying any more beer until “that spare tire around your middle is just an unpleasant memory.” With that she’d returned to reading yet another of her wedding magazines.

“
Unpleasant memory?” Since when had his body become an ‘unpleasant memory?’ He might have put on a few extra pounds over the decades, but she used to think of them as ‘love handles.’

He looked in the refrigerator and frowned at the bottles of French wine dominating the top shelf, formerly home to a couple of six-packs of Sam Adams.

This is what it had come down to: You work hard to take care of your family and in the end, there are no cookies or beer for the guy who is footing the bill for the extravaganza. He was beginning to think Bridget was right. If she eloped, maybe his life and his wife would return.

He was saved from descending further into a swamp of self-pity by the ringing of the doorbell.

“Jeff, answer the door. I’m still getting dressed,” came the frantic call from the bedroom, and “put the cheese platter on the coffee table. Everyone should help themselves.”

Jeff smiled and reached for the knife on the cheeseboard. He always did like to do follow Kathleen
‘s instructions to the letter.

***

Josh Lasky stuck his nose in the mouth of his wineglass and inhaled slowly. He took a cautious sip and offered Jeff a small smile. “There’s a nice, dry, smooth flavor to this merlot that belies its inexpensive price. You can actually taste a hint of berry, plum and currant.”

Jeff looked at his future son-in-law as if he had two heads. The only thing he could taste was that last slice of salami and it wasn
‘t sitting too well. Maybe it was the cornichons.

“
Bridget didn’t give you any idea where she was going?” Jeff asked again. He still hoped there was a logical explanation for why his middle daughter had abandoned him to make conversation with a guy who took unnatural pleasure from smelling wine.

“
No. She left yesterday morning. Said she had to see someone about a possible crime and she’d meet me here,” Josh answered slowly, as if he were talking to a young child.

Jeff frowned. It was the same answer Josh had given him less than ten minutes earlier.
“Was it a story she was working on? Maybe a mob hit or more of those rogue cops?”

Josh looked thoughtful and seemed to come to a decision. He checked around him. The other members of his family were across the room with Kathleen. He spoke softly and Jeff had to strain to hear him.

“Mr. O’Herlihy, Bridget has been under a lot of pressure for months.”

Jeff nodded, urging the young man to continue.

“This story with the cops has taken a toll. It’s bound to do that. The very people you are supposed to trust turn out to be thieves and murderers. Even good cops feel an obligation to protect their fellow officers. You’ve heard of the thin blue line? Piercing that wall took months of hard work. There was even a rumor there was a hit out on Bridget’s life.”

“
Sweet mother of.…”

Josh put a hand on the older man
‘s shoulder. “But that’s all behind us now. They’ve arrested the rogue cops and Bridget’s moved on to other, less explosive stories. She’s working on an expose of some accounting irregularities for a couple of subcontractors of the Big Dig, you know, the Boston subway fiasco.”

Jeff blew out a breath. He took a healthy gulp of the merlot he held.
“Okay, so what does that have to do with Bridget not being here now? Did she get a tip from someone about this new story and had to follow it up?”

“
No.” Josh shook his head. “My uncle says it’s kind of like combat fatigue. Even when you’ve left the battle zone, you’re still looking behind every rock expecting a sniper to shoot you or a bomb to go off.”

“
What does that mean?” Jeff was thoroughly confused.

“
Lately Bridget sees danger where there is none. You know your daughter has a tendency to be a little over-dramatic,” Josh said matter-of-factly. “My uncle says there’s probably nothing to worry about. Pre-wedding jitters. I agree.”

“
So are you saying Bridget thinks she’s in danger and she’s really not?” He tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, but knew he hadn’t been successful. On the one hand, drama queen had been the family nickname for Bridget, but at the same time, he felt irritated at Josh’s implied criticism.

The young man took another sip of his wine before answering.
“Yes. She’s not sleeping well. She startles easily. She even invented this fantastic tale about somebody sending her a dead rat, but then couldn’t find the animal when I asked her to show it to me.”

The shocked look on Jeff
‘s face prompted Josh to continue. “Look, I’m sure this paranoia will pass. It’s probably a combination of the stress of the job, the pressures of wedding planning, and that time of month.”

A shriek of laughter startled them both. Jeff glanced over to the group surrounding Kathleen. It looked like Josh
‘s uncle had just told a joke that everyone was enjoying. He wished he were with them instead of having this conversation. He turned back to face his future family member. “Josh, what is Bridget afraid of?”

“
I think it’s the wedding. She thinks someone is trying to kill her.”

***

She checked the brass numerals again. She definitely had the right address. How did the kid know her name?

“
Ms. Brenner?” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?”

Good Lord, it was Sean. What the hell had happened to him in the last month? He now resembled Raggedy Andy, if Raggedy had decided to go Goth. His carrot-top hair had streaks of black dye woven unevenly all over his head. The teen was dressed all in black, and the master touch had been the skull earring swinging from his left ear. She winced when she realized his ear lobe was almost as red as his hair. That was definitely a homemade piercing job.

She knew she was staring, but it was an image hard to overlook. Sort of like knowing you shouldn’t stare at the car wreck and yet your eyes were inexorably drawn to the crash. Oops was he saying something to her?

“
Did you want my Dad?” the boy mumbled.

“
Yes, please.” Rachel held out a file folder. “I’m so sorry to interrupt but.…”

Sean had already pivoted on his heel and headed back into the living room. Rachel stood on the front porch, outside the storm door, uncertain if she should come in or not. She could hear the sounds of laughter and the tinkle of ice in glasses. Maybe she should have called first.

“Rachel, come in. What’s the matter?” Jeff opened the door wide.

“
I’m so sorry to intrude.” She began speaking as fast as she could, picking up steam as she went. “I got a call from your insurance agent and he said if you don’t sign the release form and fax it back by tonight, then you’ll miss the committee meeting tomorrow morning. I don’t remember the exact name of the committee but it’s essentially the group that will decide if they’ll reimburse you for the stolen caskets or not. I considered signing your name for you because to be honest I’m pretty good at forgeries, well I guess that’s an oxymoron, but then I thought maybe it wouldn’t count if I signed it.…”

“
What the hell do you mean you’re good at forgeries? You can counterfeit my chicken scratch?”

Rachel took a deep breath and nodded. Somehow the wheels had come off the wagon in the conversation.
“Of course, I never have signed your name on anything important. That’s why I’m here.” She hoped he understood.

“
Well let’s save a discussion of your special talent for another day. Did you bring me whatever it was I need to sign, but that apparently you could have, if you had been so larcenously inclined?”

Jeff grinned and Rachel relaxed.

“Kathleen?” Jeff called out. “I’ll be in the den. Something’s come up.”

“
I made a complete list of all the missing caskets and attached the invoices, all of which have been marked paid.” Rachel followed Jeff down the hall and into a small den. Coats from the party guests were piled high on the corner chair.

“
Let me sign the form and I’ll fax it from here.” Jeff settled into his desk chair. “Where the hell did Kathleen hide all the pens? She’s been cleaning for days. You can actually see your face in this desk top.” He gestured for Rachel to look, then went back to rummaging in the drawer for a pen.

“
Use mine.” Rachel dug in her purse and retrieved a pen from its bottomless pit.

“
Jeff, what should we…,” a voice from the doorway interrupted.

Kathleen O
‘Herlihy barged into the room and stopped when she saw her husband wasn’t alone. “Hi, Rachel, what’s going on?”

“
I’ll be out of here in a second.” Rachel rushed to explain. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your family party.”

“
Don’t be ridiculous. We’re glad you’re here. Aren’t we, Jeff?” Kathleen looked to her husband for confirmation, but Jeff was too busy scanning the invoices Rachel had given him.

“
What?” he mumbled.

“
I said we’re happy Rachel is here. Why doesn’t she join us for dinner?”

“
No, no.” Rachel said more loudly than she intended. “I couldn’t. I just couldn’t”

“
Why not?” Kathleen demanded. “I’m sure Mac would be delighted if you were with us. Right, Jeff?”