Never Buried: A Leigh Koslow Mystery (9 page)

Her cousin-in-law laughed merrily. "Don't start with that. You know I'm still in Tokyo. But not for much longer. I'm counting the days!"

Leigh felt the slight knotting in her stomach that she always felt when reminded of Gil's happiness with Cara. Not that she was jealous. How could she be, when she had had the first shot? Leigh had met Gil through work, and was astonished when he asked her out. Gil was the type of man one normally sees only with the aid of photography. His admirable physique, square jaw line, and impeccable taste in clothes were not to be sniffed at. Furthermore, he had the kind of twinkling eyes and carefree grin that most estrogen-dominant individuals would kill for. Unfortunately, he hadn't really understood Leigh's sense of humor. So what would have been the point? Instead of acting interested, she had referred him to Cara for a specialized design project. The rest was history.

"So how's my little family doing?" he continued happily. Leigh could picture him lounging on a bamboo mat in an Armani suit, his hazel eyes beaming with pride. Her stomach twitched again, and guilt surged.

"Cara's fine. And she says the baby is kicking up a storm."

"That's great!" he enthused. "Is she up yet?"

Leigh's guilt was suddenly replaced by recall of her cousin's predicament. Had Cara told Gil about the body? Leigh's brow furrowed in thought. Cara probably wouldn't have—she wouldn't want him to worry. But he certainly deserved to know. Besides, Leigh had promised to report anything that might get Cara upset. She cleared her throat. "Listen, Gil, do you have a minute?"

Leigh shrieked as long fingernails scratched at her hands. Cara, materializing from nowhere, snatched the receiver with a fierce look of disapproval. She covered the mouthpiece with her palm. "Don't you
dare
tell him anything!" she whispered. "One word and he'll be on the next flight back to Pittsburgh, and all his hard work will be for nothing! He's got to finish up this project now, so that after the baby’s born he can stay put for a while. I'm not going to let this mess spoil all our plans!"

Sufficiently chastened, Leigh retreated. Cara smoothed her hair and spoke cheerfully to her husband. "Hi, Honey. Sorry about that. Leigh wanted to talk to you some more but I couldn't wait any longer, so I wrestled the phone away from her." She paused. "Oh, I'm wonderful, and so is little Pippi or Bobo. Except that we both miss you."

Having no desire to hang around and eavesdrop, Leigh decided it was time to visit the Avalon Police Department. She arrived there five minutes later, shoe box in hand. Finding a place to drop it on Maura's cluttered desk was difficult, but she managed. It landed with flair—displacing several sheets of paper and sending a stray pen rolling to the floor.

Maura, who had been too buried in paperwork to notice her approach, glared. "Koslow," she acknowledged, her voice deadpan. "Nice entrance." She examined the box as Leigh stooped for the pen. "You bought me air soles? How sweet."

"Um," Leigh hedged, glad that Maura was being sarcastic, "not exactly. Are you a seafood person?"

"Turf and surf in cardboard? I'll pass."

Leigh sighed and sat down. "It's fish. They were scattered over Cara's patio this morning."

Maura's eyes flickered. She sat up and opened the box lid. Then, with a grimace and a wrinkle of her nose, she slammed it closed.

Leigh couldn't help laughing. "I can't believe that got more reaction out of you than a ten-year-old corpse."

"I've never liked fish," Maura said simply, settling back in her chair. "So what's the deal? I don't get it."

Leigh took a breath. "The deal is, those fish have letters painted on their sides. And the letters spell 'GET OUT.'"

Maura's eyebrows rose. "You're sure?"

Leigh nodded.

Maura rose from behind her desk and leaned over the cubicle wall. "Hey, Chief! Got a minute? Fish question." She sat back down and turned to Leigh. “Lucky for you, we have an award-winning angler on staff.”

Donald Mellman's bulky form soon loomed over them both. As Leigh explained the morning's events, his pudgy fingers stirred the collection of fish pieces.

"Bluegill," he said with pride. "And this one's a crappie."

Leigh wondered what possible difference it made what kind of fish they were. She started to ask, but Maura interrupted.

"Are these the kind of fish you could buy in a grocery store?"

"Not hardly," Mellman answered, poking his finger into one of the fish's mouths to show the hook scar. "These fellas are a pretty common catch around here. If you just went out and starting fishing, this is what you'd end up with. Pan fish. Most people throw 'em back."

If they'd been store-bought, Leigh thought, a clerk might have remembered the purchase.
Rats.

"Koslow," Maura began with a heavy tone. "One threat could be a fluke. Two threats, and you need to take it personally. This could be a dangerous situation."

"You don't have to convince me," Leigh said sincerely. "But Cara refuses to leave. She thinks the whole fish thing is just an amateurish stunt, to keep us from finding something that's hidden in the house."

The Chief shook his head. "She's taking for granted that the perp's got all his marbles. What if he doesn't?" His voice assumed a paternal tone. "The safest thing would be for you and your cousin to find another place to stay—at least until this blows over."

Leigh sighed. "I'm all for that. I'll keep working on her."

With a trademark nod, Mellman retreated to his office.

Maura pulled a plastic bag out of a cabinet and dumped in the contents of the cardboard box. "You know, Koslow," she said in her police voice, "you should have just called us over. It would have been better if we could have seen the way everything was laid out."

Leigh sighed. "I told you, the fish weren't laid out. I suppose they were once, but our slightly dense lunatic didn't count on a bunch of crows picking them to smithereens before we woke up."

Maura offered the empty box, but Leigh declined it with a grimace.

"So what's next?" Leigh asked. "Is Vestal being charged with anything?"

Maura's eyes narrowed slightly as she relived her annoyance with Leigh. "Vestal's legal problems are not your concern. Your safety is. We don't know what this perp is capable of. Perhaps you and Cara could move in with your parents for a week or so?"

A cold chill ran down Leigh's spine. Back home? Horrors. And the lease on her old apartment had just expired. How had she gotten herself into this situation?
Hi Mom! I'm unemployed again! Just as you predicted. What's for dinner?

She shivered.

Maura looked at her, eyebrows raised. Leigh decided that a truthful explanation would be a bad idea. Her friend had barely had time to mourn her father's fatal heart attack before her mother had started showing signs of dementia. After Mary wandered out of her house and into a neighbor's house a block away, interrupting a friend's husband during a bath and demanding to know where Chief Polanski was, Maura had made a decision. She had left her cozy apartment in town and moved back into the family duplex with her mother and two elderly aunts—waylaying her plans to make detective by taking the first available spot on the Avalon squad. Leigh could hardly expect sympathy for her own petty phobias.

"I don't think our moving out is necessary," she said carefully. "The house has a top-notch security system." Maura opened her mouth to speak, but Leigh went on. "And besides, our best chance of getting out from under this threat is to figure out who's delivering it, and why. We have a much better chance of doing that in the house than out of it. If this guy is as big a moron as we think, he's going to get himself caught pretty soon."

"What makes you so sure it's a he?"

"I told you already," Leigh said impatiently. "I saw a man on the bluff the night the body appeared."

Maura's expression turned serious. "What if I told you it was me you saw that night?"

Leigh's eyes widened. Nonsense. Why wouldn't Maura have said something? "The figure was a man," she insisted. "It had broad shoulders, and—"

"Yes?"

Well, perhaps it could have been Maura after all. But why?

Leigh's thoughts were cut short by a sly smile from the policewoman. "That's okay, Koslow, don't torture yourself. It wasn't me. But you've just proven that it
could
have been a woman."

Leigh's face reddened.

"You also said he or she was a moron," Maura continued, "what makes you think that?"

Leigh sniffed. "What intelligent person that you know writes messages on dead fish and dresses corpses up in stupid-looking hats?"

"A criminally insane one," Maura said heavily, "and there may be a method to his madness. Using the fish, for instance."

Leigh looked at her blankly.

"Fish? Paul Fischer?" Maura said slowly. "Get it?"

Leigh hadn't. "Well, sure," she said quickly. "That much is obvious. But it doesn't prove this guy is really dangerous."

"Of course not," Maura said. "It doesn't prove anything. That's my point. We don't know what this person is capable of."

Leigh exhaled in defeat. "I understand what you're saying. But I'm telling you, Cara won't leave. And with the security system on and the police driving by now and then, I'm sure we'll be fine." She got up to leave. "But we have some detective work to do—"

The glare aimed at Leigh could kindle a fire.

"I mean," she backtracked, "we have some genealogical research to do. If Cara and I make a mission of finding out all about Paul Fischer's life and the history of the house, we're bound to stumble across something suspicious."

Maura's eyes appraised Leigh carefully. "All right, Koslow. But let me tell you this. My official advice is for you both to get the hell out of that house. Sadly, I have no legal right to make you. That said, as far as doing
library-type
research on Paul Fischer and the house, that's fine. You and Cara working together can make faster progress than the overworked Avalon PD. But if you find anything"

she pointed a finger

"And I mean
anything
, you tell me about it right away. Understand?"

Leigh raised her hand in a salute. "
Capiche
!" she said with a smile, then rose to leave. Her eyes rested momentarily on Maura's gun holster. "Hey, Maura, do you think—"

"Go, Koslow!"

Leigh decided to comply. Fun was fun, but she had work to do.

Chapter 9

Leigh offered Cara her arm for balance as the two walked up the crumbling concrete steps of the Rhodis home. There were only six, but when Cara reached the top she stopped to massage her bulging abdomen.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," Cara replied unconvincingly. "It's just another Braxton Hicks."

Leigh felt a flicker of panic. She was supposed to be a companion, not a midwife. And where the hell was Gil when you needed him, anyway?

Cara looked at Leigh's expression and laughed. "Oh, knock it off! I'm fine. You're getting as bad as your mother!"

Leigh scowled. That was hitting below the belt.

Cara laughed again and put her hand on Leigh's arm, a form of apology. "Really. It's no big deal. As long as I don't have more than four an hour, there's nothing to worry about. I'm just supposed to be taking it easy, which I am. I'm the quintessential lady of leisure, in case you hadn't noticed."

Leigh was only partially reassured. "Are you sure you're up to this?" she persisted. "You could just tell me all this stuff yourself, like I asked."

Cara shook her head. "I think you should hear this firsthand. Besides, what's so stressful about having a chat with my next-door neighbor in the middle of a Friday morning?"

Giving up, Leigh rang the yellowed plastic doorbell. Adith Rhodis appeared in a matter of seconds. She opened the flimsy screen that separated them and flashed a wide smile. "Well, hello, Cara dear! Come in, come in! And you must be her cousin Leigh. So nice to see you again!" The older woman grasped Leigh's hand and held it tightly. "I can't believe how you've grown up into such a lovely young woman. Last time I saw you you were just a little thing holding cotton balls for your Daddy!"

Leigh smiled painfully. That was at least one poodle ago. "It has been a long time, hasn't it?"

Mrs. Rhodis turned back to Cara. "So, how are you, dear? I can't believe you walked up those rickety old stairs to get here. It's a wonder you didn't fall to your death. I've been on Bud for years to get them steps fixed and he always says the same darn thing: 'I'll do it in the spring, Adie!'" She leaned towards Leigh conspiratorially. "Old buzzard ain't got much spring left in him!"

Leigh grinned back at the older woman. Adith Rhodis appeared to be somewhere in her seventies. She had wavy, white-gray hair that stood up in all directions, an image fitting well with her flowered polyester house dress and knee-high stockings. Her eyes, on the other hand, were those of a disobedient thirteen-year-old with a wild imagination.