“Alex, I have a class to teach.” Connie turned and started walking away.
“I don’t know what Bert was up to and what exactly he was doing in my house, and I don’t know what went on between him and Penelope, but I am going to find out.” I turned and headed for the reception area.
“Alex. Do me a favor,” Connie called after me. “Don’t take my class anymore.”
I sat in my car munching on M&Ms and wondered if I should introduce them to Wilhelm. Did the Dutch have M&Ms? I don’t think I could live in a country without them, though I did quite nicely when I went to Belgium, what with having all the croissants and pastries to take their place.
My day hadn’t started off very well, I thought, while I sat there popping candies like an addict, which, I guess I was. I didn’t care. I needed my vice. Not only had I not gotten any information out of Connie but I probably lost her as a friend and would find I was booted out of the club the next time I tried to get in. Geesh. Plus I never managed to ask Connie anything about Liz. They had come to the party together and I wanted to find out more about her. I guess I needed to swallow my pride and search out Connie again, but I would let things settle down a bit before I approached her.
Actually, I did get something out of Connie. She told me Bert didn’t need any more trouble. More trouble about what? She also said he had a hard time getting good contractors. I began to wonder, based on the state of Penelope’s kitchen, if Bert even had any subcontractors. And why was that? I needed to find out more about Bert’s company. But I also wanted to find out if Bert had been in any trouble with the police before.
I started up my car, took one last teensy tiny handful of M&Ms and headed out of the club parking lot.
I promised John I would call Detective Maroni and tell him he wouldn’t be coming in for at least a few more days and of course I forgot. A few minutes later I pulled into the station just as Jim Maroni came out.
“Detective Maroni, good morning.”
“Jim, please. Hi, Alex. I just tried calling your house. John was supposed to be back.”
Jim Maroni always reminded me of Clark Kent and I really don’t know why. The hair color is all wrong and he isn’t quite as tall, but he just does and he had turned into Superman for me on one occasion and I was forever in his debt.
“That’s why I’m here. They have car trouble, or I should say truck trouble. They’re waiting on a part. Hopefully he’ll be back in a few days. I wanted to ask you a favor. Two, actually.”
Jim smiled. “Shoot.”
“Probably not the best thing for a policeman to say.” We both smiled. “First, I wanted to ask you not to mention the murder to John if he should happen to call. I don’t want him to worry. I’m staying over at my parents’ home until he comes back.”
“No problem.” Jim smiled. “And the second favor?”
“Bert Cabrizzi. I saw him on Main Street on Saturday morning so I take it he’s no longer a suspect?”
Jim leaned against my car and said good morning to a young officer headed toward the building. “Right now he’s just a person of interest. Other than breaking into your house, we have nothing else on him. His prints were not on the knife, and we didn’t find any footprints from his boots in the library like there were on your throw rugs in the living and dining rooms.”
“Right. I forgot all about that. Though he could have taken them off,” I offered.
“Well, he could have but then why would he put them back on? When he finally came downstairs he would have just carried them or left them upstairs, but he had them on.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not involved.”
“You mean Connie?” I asked.
“Yeah, he could have been in on it with her and maybe she pushed the knife into Mrs. Radamaker’s back.”
I leaned on the car next to Jim and looked at a sky filling up with thick clouds again. Right now they were mostly white with a few light gray ones thrown in. “What about his background? Connie alluded to the fact he’s been having trouble lately, though she didn’t say what kind.”
“The state keeps a database on lots of things and one is complaints against contractors. He has quite a few. Been sued a couple of times. I don’t think he should have picked contracting as his chosen profession.”
“Hmmm. Has he ever threatened anyone before or has any former client threatened him?”
“Only one I’ve found so far.”
“Penelope.”
“Yes. Mrs. Radamaker filed a complaint with the state regulatory agency that oversees all things construction related and she contacted a lawyer. I’m headed there right now.”
“Anybody else look good for the crime?”
“Alex, are you detecting again? Because if you are, just let me know so I can have my Superman costume cleaned and pressed and ready for action.” He smiled but I knew he wanted me to keep out of it.
I waved my hand. “No. No. Just curious. I mean the crime did take place in my house and it was an evening straight out of a mystery novel what with the storm and lights going out and all.”
Jim didn’t look convinced. Nor did he answer my question about anyone else being a suspect. He said goodbye and he would be in touch. I watched him walk to his car and then I stood there wondering with a sense of dread as more gray clouds gathered above me if my argument and all my questions with Connie earlier had just put me at the top of the Cabrizzis’ hit list.
It was just about ten and I figured Els and Wilhelm should be up by now unless they were totally jetlagged. I turned onto Penelope’s street and saw Els unloading boxes from the back seat and trunk of a car, which I assumed was Penelope’s.
I parked in front of the house and got out. “Good morning, Els.”
“Ah. Good morning, Alex. I was just about to call you and let you know we are ready to begin. I went and got some packing boxes and the company is going to deliver many more later on, but I wanted to get started.”
Els once again dressed in jeans and today she wore a kind of apron over her light sweater. It looked very practical with long sleeves, and I fleetingly thought I should start wearing my apron more often. No one seemed to wear them anymore and maybe I could start a new tradition. I stood there daydreaming about what other things I could design and maybe start my own fashion house when something startled me.
“Pepermuntballen?” Wilhelm said to me, his hand outstretched and holding several little candy balls. At least he didn’t have the bookend in his hand today.
“Oh, you scared me. What?”
“A peppermint candy. Would you like one?” He smiled at me and I felt certain he liked scaring the hell out of me.
“Oh, no thanks. I’ve had quite enough candy this morning already.” I felt like running to my car and downing a handful of my own vice right now just to calm me down but I didn’t want to have to share my stash with this confection connoisseur.
“Wilhelm, stop eating,” Els admonished her brother, “and take these boxes inside. I do not understand this addiction with candy that he has.” Els shook her head and grabbed a couple of boxes and I followed her into the house.
“Wilhelm will be packing up the heavy stuff in the living room and study while you and I go upstairs and go through Penelope’s things.”
If my game-loving grandmother was here, right about now she would be shouting
bingo
! How lucky was this? Maybe my day wasn’t going to be so bad. I just got handed the opportunity to go through Penelope’s things. I hoped she kept the really good stuff up in her room and not down in the living room or study where Wilhelm would be working. Of course, I had no idea what the good stuff was, but I really wanted to get a look at her belongings, ghoul that I am.
“Let’s make some tea and we can begin.”
I followed Els into the kitchen where she had already set out a tray with a plate of cookies and two mugs. Water began to boil on the stove and she took the large kettle and filled a china pot, and then placed the pot on the tray.
“Twice in one year. I am packing for two people who have died in one year. I will be happy to sell this house and be done with it,” Els said as she picked up the tray.
I followed her up the stairs to a large bedroom at the front of the house. The room looked much like the living room, with a chintz-covered chair and reading light and a large bed with matching bedspread.
“You helped Penelope pack up everything when your father died?” I asked as I poured out tea for both of us.
“Oh, yes. She insisted upon it. Right after the service. We were only home for an hour before she dragged us upstairs and began the process of getting my father out of her life.”
“I was under the impression Penelope was very close to your father,” I asked, hoping this might illicit Els to share her thoughts on how Penelope killed her father. Okay, they were my thoughts, but it didn’t mean they weren’t true.
Els opened up the closet door exposing a large walk-in filled with clothing; very expensive clothing from what I could tell, and gathered up several things at once and brought them out to the bed.
“Oh, they loved each other very much, but Penelope didn’t want any reminders in the house. She said it was all too upsetting. The truth was Poppy didn’t have much other than his clothes. Most of the furnishings in the house belonged to Penelope before they met or things she picked out. Poppy didn’t care. He loved her and whatever she wanted was fine with him. There were the clothes and lots and lots of books, but very little else. I think she wanted the chance to let us pick out things we would like to keep, but it was much too soon for me to go through his things.”
“What did you do with it all?” I asked as Els continued to clear the racks in the closet laying everything on the bed.
“Wilhelm and my father were about the same size and Wilhelm kept a few suits and the like. I took a favorite sweater Poppy always wore around the house and I wear it when I’m home. We took favorite books and the rest we donated.”
“And your father died of what?” I asked, trying to keep the anxiousness out of my voice.
“He had cancer. It was all rather sudden, but I think that is best. No time for all the treatment, which is worse than the cancer. He got sick. He died.”
So Pieter had died quickly, I thought. Maybe it wasn’t cancer. Maybe it was a slow-acting poison. Where the heck did I come up with this stuff? I turned to Els. “But he did go to a doctor?”
“Oh, yes, of course. A very good specialist, in fact. But they said it was too advanced. Poppy never liked going to the doctor. He confided to Pen he showed signs of illness but just ignored them. She was very upset. He could have been saved.” Els dropped another pile of clothes on the bed.
With my theory that Penelope killed her husband and someone killed her out of revenge dashed, I concentrated on the clothes. “And these things?” I asked looking at all of Penelope’s beautiful clothes covering the entire bed and chair. “Do you want to keep them or sell them?”
Els, with her hair gathered up into a pile on top of her head, stood there looking at it all with her hands on her hips. I noticed how pretty she was and also how tired. I thought it admirable she took on the task of cleaning out the house of her stepmother.
“Everything is beautiful, isn’t it? She did have good taste.” Els picked up a lovely periwinkle blouse and fingered the pearl buttons. “She wore this the last time she came to Amsterdam. I just started my first job, at the hotel where I now work. I’m an events manager. It is a large international hotel, and Penelope came to pick me up for dinner. She had this on.” Els held the blouse to her face and I could see tears running down her cheek.
“I did love her. Very much, actually. I don’t think I ever thought about it before.” Els reached for a tissue from a box on the bedside table and wiped her face. “I think I’d like to keep this. Alex, I will go through the clothes and pick out a few things to keep but Pen…Penelope, was so much smaller than me most things won’t fit. I’m too tall. The rest I think we’ll donate. Could you start going through the boxes on the shelves in the closet?”
“Certainly.” I left Els standing by the bed sorting through the clothes while I pulled boxes from the shelves in the closet and sat on the floor sorting things out.
The first few boxes I went through held pieces of costume jewelry. Quite lovely things, and I’m sure they cost quite a bit. If Els was up to it, she could have a garage sale and make a mint, what with all the clothes and shoes, but I didn’t know if she wanted to do that and if it was even the proper thing to do.
I pulled a round box from the top shelf and opened it. This one was full of lovely scarves. Like the apron, it seemed people didn’t wear scarves much anymore, at least not beautiful silk ones like this. In Indian Cove, if one wore a scarf, it was usually made out of something thick and warm. But then Penelope had lived in Europe for some time and on my one and only trip there, I remember how all the women seemed to have a flair for wearing scarves. Another fashion trend I wanted to revive.
“Alex, the man with the boxes is here. I’m going downstairs for a minute to get more.”
Els left and I finished folding and putting the scarves into a packing box, leaving the designer box they had come from on the shelf in case Els wanted to keep it.
On the top shelf at the back of the closet were several more boxes. I pulled the closest one toward me and then I spied a smaller one behind. I’m five foot seven, but it was too far back for me to reach. I found a tiny foot stool with an embroidered pillow top in Penelope’s room and took it to the closet, where I slipped off my shoes and stepped up. It was the perfect height and I pulled the box to the edge and then sat back down on the floor.
The box looked older than the others and quite dusty. I took off the top and looked inside. I found several small bundles with ribbon around them and undid one and fingered through what looked like movie ticket stubs, museum passes, and a pressed flower between two pieces of card stock. Everything was in Dutch and I figured Penelope had saved things from her courting days with Pieter Radamaker.