Evelyn David - Sullivan Investigations 02 - Murder Takes the Cake (9 page)

Lieutenant Greeley took out his cigar. “Problems?”

“
From him? Nothing I can’t handle.” Rachel smiled. “I wish I could say nice to see you again, but you know….”

He nodded.
“Yeah, I get that a lot. You think you can identify the person who attacked you?”

“
Probably not. It was dark. He was behind me the whole time and then I was under the car and you know.…” She shrugged. “It started snowing.”

“
You said ‘he’. How do you know it was a ‘he’?”

A good question. She wished she knew why she believed it was a
‘he,’ but she did.

“
Instinct? I’m not sure.”

She glanced behind
Greeley. Mac was standing in the doorway.

“
Cops understand about instincts, don’t they, Lieutenant?” He joined them, holding out her coat. “Jeff brought this over from your office. Thought you might want to wear it home.”

“
He didn’t need to do that.” She put the coat on, hugging the soft wool to her. “But I’m grateful. I’m not sure Bridget’s jacket is salvageable.”

“
Plus, we’re keeping it as evidence,” the Lieutenant added. “It’s got a cut in it. The collar is slit.” He made a motion with his cigar just to the right of his tie. “We might be able to match it to the knife if we find it.”

“
Well, that’s something at least.” Mac took her arm and then turned to his former boss. “It’s late. I’m going to take Rachel home. Maybe we can talk tomorrow?”

“
You can talk in front of me,” Rachel said, stepping back from the two men. “I’m not stupid. It wasn’t a mugger. Someone tried to kill me. This has something to do with Bridget O’Herlihy, doesn’t it?”

***

“Lieutenant Greeley could have at least pretended to believe me! I pay plenty in taxes. He could have made an effort.” Rachel unlocked her front door and stamped the snow from her boots before stepping inside. “And he didn’t seem too interested in Bridget’s problems either.”

She turned and looked at him and then his shoes.

Mac took the hint and stamped his feet too.

“
Cold feet. He thinks Bridget is just nervous about the wedding.” Mac wasn’t surprised Greeley had problems moving away from the simple mugging scenario. Rachel’s purse wasn’t taken and in spite of her aggressive self-defense moves, she hadn’t been hurt.

As for Bridget?
Greeley didn’t know Bridget and so far her ‘problems’ hadn’t come with a D.C. tag, so Greeley wasn’t going to get involved.

“
Cold feet, my….” She draped her snow-dampened coat over the staircase banister. “Where’s Whiskey?”

Mac shut the door behind him.
“She’s having a sleepover at JJ’s.”

“
Good. So you don’t have to rush off?”

“
No. Not if you don’t want me to.” He was amazed at how calm she’d remained throughout the whole ordeal. They had stayed an extra hour, answering the Lieutenant’s questions and explaining about Bridget’s recent activities in Boston and Sullivan Investigations’ involvement with the deceased Brian Crager. Not that it had accomplished anything. If there was a connection between Rachel’s mugging, Bridget’s stalker…he turned the word ‘stalker’ over in his mind…maybe that was too strong but he didn’t have a better label at the moment. If there were a connection between Rachel’s mugging, Bridget’s stalker, and Brian Crager’s death, then Sullivan Investigations would have to figure it out. Not the police.

“
Please. Give me a half hour. I want to take a hot shower and change. Then we need to talk.” She started up the stairs, calling out, “Raid the refrigerator if you want. There’s sandwich stuff.”

“
Thanks. I could use something.” He wandered into the kitchen and approached the refrigerator. Snickers glared down at him from atop the appliance.

“
Relax, Whiskey didn’t come with me.”

The cat leaped to the floor and started out of the room.

“Not hungry? I’ve been known to drop things when I cook.”

At the word
‘hungry’ the cat stopped, then turned her head back towards him.

He pretended not to notice.
“Let’s see mustard, bologna, cheese, pickles, lettuce.…”

By the time he had the ingredients for his sandwich on the countertop, Snickers was sitting at his feet, waiting.

“Can’t just wait for something to happen, Snickers. You have to make it happen.” He tore up a slice of the lunchmeat and put it in the cat’s bowl. “That advice goes for me too.”

Mac took a bite of his sandwich as he watched the cat eat.
“Might be time for a quick trip to Boston.”

“
When do we leave?” Rachel, dressed in blue jeans and a Penn sweatshirt, arms crossed, smiled at him from the doorway.

He swallowed. No more delaying. It was past time for him to make a move.
“We could start tonight.”

Chapter 8

“
I haven’t done anything this crazy since.…” Rachel had to think about it. “Since the last road trip I took with you.”

Mac shifted in the passenger seat of Rachel
‘s Jeep. “Those other trips weren’t really road trips. Not in the true sense of the word. They were ‘excursions’. Anything less than 200 miles is just an excursion.”

“
Is that straight out of some detective’s manual? Or did you just make that up on the spot?”

“
Hey! That’s one of those known facts of life.”

“
Maybe a fact in Mac Sullivan’s life, not mine. Where did you grow up?”

“
D.C.–I thought you knew that.”

“
How would I know that?”

“
I figured Jeff would have mentioned it.”

“
You mean when Jeff and I talk about you?”

“
Yeah. During embalming and stuff.”

“
We don’t talk that much about you, even during embalmings, much less during stuff.”

“
That’s strange.”

She laughed.
“I get my best information from Jeff’s wife.”

“
Kathleen?” Mac sighed. “She’s kind of biased; thinks I get Jeff into trouble. That I take advantage of our friendship. Don’t pay too much attention to what she says.”

“
She thinks you’re a wonderful man. Smart, caring, and with a big heart.”

“
Like I said, Kathleen really knows me.”

“
Tell me something Kathleen doesn’t know.”

“
I need to buy new socks. And you need to take the next turn. Let’s see if we can find some place to fill up. You want to get a room?”

“
Rooms. Plural. And you’re trying to distract me from my mission. It won’t work.”

“
I thought the mission was to get to Boston and find out who was threatening Bridget.”

“
That’s your mission. Mine is to investigate Mac Sullivan–the man behind the P.I. badge.”

“
I don’t have a badge.”

“
See, I’m learning new things already. What kind of socks are you looking for?”

***

“Like I told you on the phone when I asked you to come in, Mac left me in charge until he gets back tomorrow,” JJ announced to the man and the Irish wolfhound sitting in front of her desk. “He’s in Boston checking out the police corruption Bridget was involved in. We’re supposed to work on the turkey farm murder and try to keep tabs on Bridget without being too obvious about it. He also wants you to finish up that background check on Joshua Lasky.”

Edgar and the dog stared at her.

“What?” She didn’t need to ask why they were staring at her. After Mac’s order to change her wardrobe, she’d visited a consignment shop. Currently she was wearing a circa 1930s, knockoff, Chanel suit. Even though she’d had to re-sew the seams, the old suit had still cost her more money than she was comfortable spending–especially just to make a point. It was black wool with gold metal buttons. She’d added a white silk blouse. Around her waist she’d cinched a black leather belt to hide the fact the jacket was a little large. The four inch heels were already killing her feet and it wasn’t even noon yet. She’d left her jet-black hair in its normal spiked style, but she’d replaced her large hoop earrings with fake pearl studs and a matching double strand necklace.

“
You got one of those little hats with the black netting?” Edgar asked, waving one gnarled hand across his eyes showing where the netting would be.

“
Maybe.” She had seen one of those at the shop and thought about buying it. But she wasn’t about to take fashion advice from the old man. “Why?”

“
Widow’s weeds. You could get a job as an extra at O’Herlihy’s when Mac fires you. You know, as one of those paid mourners.” He chuckled, and then coughed. “They still have those?”

“
I don’t like you very much. If anyone is going to get fired around here, it’s going to be you. You were the one who was supposed to research Brian Crager. Instead, at the least, you let us get fooled by an imposter and at the most, let a killer escape.”

Whiskey barked and looked towards Edgar.

“I’m not the one who signed up a dead client and traded the services of this firm for a few turkeys and a percentage of nothing!”

Whiskey turned towards JJ and whined.

“Hey, don’t you start too. Who drove you through your favorite fast food place this morning?”

“
Now you’re bribing the dog so she’s on your side? Come here, girl!”

Whiskey looked from one to the other, then stood and walked into Mac
‘s office.

The door slammed.

JJ and Edgar both jumped.

They looked at each other, then the door.

“Did she just.…”

“
I’m not even going there,” Edgar mumbled. “Didn’t happen.”

JJ nodded.
“Right. Let’s head over to the funeral home and check on Bridget.”

“
Fine.” Edgar drove his scooter over towards the outside door. “We’ll take my new van. It drives real nice in the snow.”

“
You bought a van? Since when?”

“
I’ve been thinking about it for awhile. A friend of my great nephew got me a deal. Has a lift and everything. After that problem at the turkey farm, I wasn’t going to rely on the church ladies anymore to get around. I needed my own wheels.”

“
Where did you get the money for something like that?”

“
I made some good investments this year.”

“
Horses?”

“
You betcha.” Edgar opened the door and banged the doorframe on the way out. “Load up that twitchy dog and let’s get a move on.”

***

“What did Jeff say?” Rachel wondered why she was so worried now. She was over 300 miles from home and definitely not making it into work on time, despite any objections her boss might have. Mac had volunteered to make the call from his room before joining her for breakfast.

Mac slid into a seat and picked up the menu.
“He said it’s still snowing and that cotton was better than synthetic.”

“
Not about socks, about me missing work today, about Bridget, about the missing caskets, about the wedding.…”

“
We mostly stuck to the weather and socks. Have you ordered yet? I’m starving.”

“
Mac!” She was learning that Mr. Sullivan had a very dry sense of humor. He also didn’t like to open up about his personal life. “I ordered coffee and juice for starters. I was waiting for you to tell me if I still had a job, before I ordered any big ticket items.”

“
The price of coffee in this place looks like a big ticket item to me.”

“
What did Jeff really say?”

“
Jeff said the Laskys are messing with Kathleen’s wedding plans and he expects major warfare to break out any minute. He’s making sure Bridget stays within his sight at all times–and he’s not too happy I didn’t tell him about Bridget’s Boston problems. Better I don’t repeat his exact words. And yes, he understands that after your mugging, you deserve a day off. I lied and told him you have a stiff neck.”

Rachel rubbed the back of her neck.
“That’s no lie. After diving under a car last night and then riding in a car for 400 plus miles, my neck is not the only thing that hurts.”

A waitress appeared at their table with coffee, orange juice, and a smile much too bright for customers who
‘d pulled an all-nighter.

“
What do you recommend?” Mac asked, eyeing the menu one more time.

“
Give us a minute,” Rachel said, before the waitress could answer. “Please.”

The waitress nodded and wandered over to another table.

“Could be years before she comes back,” Mac warned. “I’m really hungry.”

“
Then talk fast. What about the missing caskets?” The day before, she had decided she was going to call the casket vendor to see if they remembered who signed for the errant caskets–or rather see if their delivery guy remembered what the person who signed for the caskets looked like.

“
Jeff said something about developing a plan, but then there was some screaming in the background, the sound of breaking glass…He hung up on me. I’m thinking scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Do you like hash browns?”

“
Screaming? Glass breaking?” It was 9 A.M. In her experience screaming and glass breaking always happened later in the day at the O’Herlihy Funeral Home.

They had considered stopping their drive half way and looking for a hotel, but after some super-leaded coffee at a convenience store and a refill for the Jeep, they had decided to keep going while the traffic was lighter. They had arrived in
Boston about an hour earlier and checked in. Apparently early check-ins were possible at upscale hotels if you had enough room on your credit card account to pay for it. Currently, they were taking up space in a booth in the hotel restaurant before getting a few hours sleep. They had an appointment with a Boston detective at 5 P.M.

“
Yeah. Lots of screaming and a little glass breaking. Maybe a vase or two at the most.”

“
You don’t look concerned.”

“
No, this is a look of hunger.” He waved at the waitress. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the noise. I think Kathleen just overruled Helen Lasky on the flower arrangements. There will be no blue roses. At least that’s what I think she yelled.”

“
They were all at the funeral home? Planning the wedding? Jeff is gonna love that. But I still don’t understand about the breaking glass?”

“
Kathleen was emphasizing her point.”

“
I’ve never seen her break anything.”

“
Kathleen has a quick temper–sometimes it gets the better of her.”

Rachel sighed.
“Yeah. I remember. In the car when Kathleen was driving and that crazy was holding us hostage, Kathleen pretty much dared the killer to shoot her or leave her be.”

“
That’s the Kathleen we all know and love.”

The waitress joined them, her order pad at the ready.
“So folks, want to hear our specials now?”

“
I want to hear it all, every detail. Even the stuff that’s not so great.” Rachel looked at Mac. It wasn’t going to be easy to get him to talk about himself. His relationship with Jeff, Kathleen, the O’Herlihy kids–no secrets. He loved his dog. But no clues about the detective himself. She was going to have to dig a little deeper.

The waitress frowned.
“Uh, personally I don’t like the Eggs Benedict. But everything else is good. Just normal breakfast food, nothing too spicy, nothing too strange.”

Mac returned Rachel
‘s stare, but spoke to the waitress. “That sounds like me–normal and not too spicy.”

***

“Isn’t she on the radio?” JJ glanced at the photo on the remembrance brochure someone had stuck in her hand as she and Edgar moved past the open viewing room.

“
Not anymore.” Edgar chuckled as he drove his scooterchair forward.

“
Wait!” She grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?” They had checked in at the office first, and not finding anyone, had decided to search the building. Security was obviously lax.

Edgar shook off her hand.
“Don’t make a scene; I just want to take a quick gander. Make sure it’s actually Martha Martinelli in that box.”

“
Why? We’re looking for Bridget.”

“
Never know what kind of information might come in handy. Plus, sometimes it pays to verify things for yourself–not make assumptions like you did with that fake turkey farmer.”

“
That wasn’t my fault. And I didn’t see you figuring out the guy wasn’t legit until he put a pitchfork through my tires.”

“
Jeff O’Herlihy’s tires! I’m not referring to the events during our field trip to Virginia, although I probably would have picked up on that guy faster if you hadn’t showed up and sent him off to make sandwiches.”

“
Hey, before I showed up and rescued the situation, he was about to put that pitchfork through you, old man.”

“
Now, girlie, you’re exaggerating. The surly thug and I were having a heated discussion about religion and then you appeared, threatening him with health department citations! Most people would have used a gun to scare the bad guys, but you.…” Edgar laughed as he powered his chair forward. “You? You pulled out a notepad and waved it around.”