“Guess we should call Belle and ask for tips on talking to Nellie McNab.” She picked up the phone and handed it to her sister.
“And I suppose ‘we’ means ‘me’, huh Sis?” Goldie glanced at her watch. “Well I guess this is as good a time as any.” She took a deep breath and dialed.
Godiva went upstairs to her sitting room to call Caesar. She was still miffed at discovering Caesar’s secret identity and looked as if she might do battle with him as soon as he answered the phone. She knew Belle would bend Goldie’s ear for quite some time, longer than it would take to call Caesar and check in with Ricky Thompson. She marveled at the amount of small town news Belle could find to gossip about.
TWENTY SIX
After three rings, Belle answered sounding a bit breathless.
Goldie got the greetings out of the way and then said, “Did I take you away from something? You sound like you’re out of breath.”
A husky voice boomed in her ear. “Nah, nothing much. I just got home. I met those pests Nora and Dora on the street by the Russian church and they jumped on me again. Those women are driving me nuts!”
“How is the old priest? Did Rimsky finally show up?”
Belle snorted into the phone. “Rimsky, that worthless guy? I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him. Dora said she was glad he was gone…that he wasn’t much help anyway.”
“Maybe that’s true, but they must be a bit concerned…”
“If you want my two cents, I think those ladies are more interested in your whereabouts than Rimsky’s. Nora keeps asking if I’ve spoken to you and if you’ve found out anything more about Mimi’s murder.” She sighed. “They’re always trying to steal my gossip and spread it around before I get a chance. Trying to upstage me! Steal my thunder! But this time my lips are sealed.”
“Don’t worry, no one can beat you at the gossip game, Mama Belle. Those two really can be a pain in the neck. They probably keep bugging you so they can pounce on me the minute I get back. By the way, have you heard anything more about Father Augustine’s murder? Do the church ladies know when the new priest will arrive?”
Belle snickered. “No on both counts. As for the murder, well, you know Ollie is no Kojak.”
Goldie steered the conversation to the real reason she called. “Speaking of cops, remember you told me about your friend Nellie McNab and how you thought she might be able to get her husband to help us?”
There was a smile in Belle’s voice. “Of course I do. I love that woman. She’s my soul sister.”
Goldie figured if she only asked Belle a few more questions she would learn the best way to approach her mother-in-law’s “soul sister.” But Belle took off down memory lane, explaining how it was fate that she and Nellie hooked up at the Hatter’s conference. Every time Goldie tried to short circuit the seemingly endless story, Belle just talked over her.
Her interruption finally succeeded and she blurted out, “Listen, Mama Belle, I’ll be sure to tell Nellie what a good conversation we had about the conference. What I really need to know is the best way to get her husband’s help. It turns out that Godiva’s friend Ricky Thompson also knows Nellie’s husband Harley. But it’s still a little touchy considering the Dumkovskys haven’t committed a crime in L.A. yet.”
“Did Ricky tell Godiva that Harley almost became one of the Ghost Riders instead of a cop? You know, if it wasn’t for Nellie, he would probably still be riding with that motorcycle gang. She said it comes in handy in his work sometimes.”
“You’re right. That’s what Ricky said. Anyway, what do you suggest?”
There was a short silence, and then Belle said, “I gave you her phone number, didn’t I?”
Goldie said that she did and urged her mother-in-law to continue, hoping to divert her from launching into another story.
“Well, give her a call and tell her you’re my daughter-in-law, and being as you’re so devoted to me, you and your sister would like to take her out for lunch.”
“That seems pretty easy. What else?” Goldie asked.
“Don’t mention your motive, save that for later. She loves to eat out, and she loves to have a little glass of wine before the meal. Harley won’t let her keep wine in the house. If I remember correctly, he’s a recovering alcoholic, so I think a nice glass of Merlot will really soften her up.”
“Okay, so when do we pop the question about getting her husband’s help?”
Belle laughed. “Just about the time there’s nothing left in the bottle. Truth is she loves to be involved in things just as much as I do. But she doesn’t like to feel she’s being used. By the time she finishes the wine, you’ll all be great friends. She’s like that.” Goldie heard Belle snap her fingers on the other end. Then Belle said, “I just remembered another plus. I think she’s a fan of your sister’s column.”
Belle kept Goldie on the line another ten minutes while she filled her in on the buzz around town about Taku, some mundane local news, and the fact that she had just donated ten thousand dollars to the Glory Hole so they could renovate their soup kitchen. As they were saying their goodbyes, Godiva charged into the room. As soon as the receiver hit the cradle, her sister said, “Are you ready for a new wrinkle?”
TWENTY SEVEN
The storm clouds above Godiva’s head were about to burst as she plopped down on the sofa across from Goldie. “This is so damned confusing, Sis. I’m ticked off at Caesar for pretending to be something he’s not, but on the other hand, I’m really worried about him.”
Goldie got up and sat next to her normally tough-as-nails sister, who, at the moment, looked like she was ready to cry. She put her arm around Godiva’s shoulder. “Okay, Sis, why don’t you fill me in?”
“Actually, Goldie, I think I want a cup of coffee first. I’m really beat.” She rang for Martina. “Do you want some tea? I’ll ask Martina to fix it.”
“Thanks, Sis. Some Yerba Maté, if you have any.”
“Hey, there are some brownies in the kitchen…to hell with the calories, let’s eat them all. Are you game?”
A smile spread across Goldie’s face. “Are you kidding? I could eat the whole batch myself!” She patted her ample hip. “That’s where they’ll go.”
While Martina was fixing the snacks, Godiva filled Goldie in on her conversation with Caesar, saving what Ricky said for later. “They’re here in L.A.,” she blurted out, “Caesar’s office at Food Broadcasting was ransacked last night.”
“It had to be the Dumkovskys, they’re right here under our noses.”
“Yeah, Caesar was pretty shaken up when he found the mess this morning. The studio called the cops so now there is a crime on the books in L.A., or Hollywood if you want to be exact.”
Goldie perked up. “Well, that means the police will get involved, that’s a good thing.”
Her sister didn’t look quite so perky. “But that really doesn’t help us much. The Hollywood cops will never believe that a simple break and enter at a studio is tied to a murder in Juneau and one in Seattle.”
“Yeah, our track record with the Hollywood police isn’t so good.” Goldie rolled her eyes. “We had a heck of a time convincing them that Caesar didn’t murder that horrible Biff Wellington.” She shuddered. “If it was up to them, that nutcase would have gotten away with murder and the cops would have fried your boyfriend.”
“Good thing they let him go. Now I get to wring his neck myself.” Godiva muttered.
Goldie got back on track. “Okay, so we can assume that the Hollywood station won’t be much help. The robbery and homicide divisions probably don’t even talk to each other. What did they steal at Caesar’s office?”
“Well, that’s it, Sis. Caesar said the place was a total mess but nothing was missing. They ransacked his desk, but only took a few papers.”
Goldie started to ask, “What papers…”
But Godiva talked over her. “I know what you’re thinking, but the FedEx receipt for shipping the samovar to his mother was in his coat pocket, so they didn’t get that. Of course, once his mother was mentioned that led into the confrontation about who he really is, but let’s save that for a minute.”
Goldie let out an involuntary sigh. “I guess they went to Food Broadcasting because they figured since he’s a chef, he would have the samovar where he works. I’m stumped, what should we do next?”
“Ricky and his boys are on the job. They’re posted at Caesar’s house and at the studio. Some police participation sure would help. The Dumkovskys can’t possibly know that Caesar doesn’t have the samovar, so their next move has to be breaking into his house.”
With a shake of her silver mane, Goldie answered, “I don’t know. I guess that’s the logical move, but I think they’ll probably be sneakier about getting into Caesar’s place…that is if they’re capable of being sneaky.”
Godiva’s shoulders sagged like a rag doll. “What did Belle say?”
“I’ll tell you after you tell me about your talk with Caesar. Did he explode when you told him you knew his name was Benny Burrito? Was he furious with his mother?”
“Let’s just say his temper is even worse in Puerto Rican than it was in Italian. Elegant, sophisticated Caesar became Benito the street fighter in a matter of minutes. From the little Spanish I understand, I think he was cursing his mother’s big mouth. I even heard a Brooklyn accent mixed in with the Spanish. I gather he told her time and again how important his image was. He was absolutely furious that she spilled the beans to you and spoiled his ruse with me.”
“What did you say?”
“What could I say? When he finally calmed down, I told him I felt betrayed. I said I thought we were close enough by now to drop our guards. After all, I admitted to him that I only married Max for his money. He could have at least shared some of his secrets with me.”
Goldie shrugged. “I don’t know. Godiva, I guess I can see his side, too. It could be risky. After all, you are in the newspaper business.”
“I-I’m not sure I want to stay in a relationship with an imposter, although he does have his redeeming qualities, if you know what I mean.” At this point she struck a pouty Mae West pose. “But I’ll worry about that later.” She shrugged. “A broken heart isn’t as serious as a murdered boyfriend.”
Goldie gave her sister a hug. It was unusual for a chink to show in Godiva’s armor. She never betrayed her emotions, and this time she really did look like her heart was broken. When Godiva’s hand snaked out, grabbed one of the brownies on the silver tray and shoved it all into her mouth at once, Goldie knew her sister’s heart was aching. But when Godiva started on her second brownie, Goldie knew she was on the road to recovery. After all, chocolate is the great cure-all.
“Um, Sis, we have to make a lunch date with Nellie McNab. I had a good conversation with Belle and she coached me on how to approach it. I think we’ll be able to get her involved. Of course, she plied me with local gossip and I almost got sucked into listening to one of her long stories. Fortunately, I cut her short. But, you know, as annoying as she is, she’s still a great old gal in my book. Know what she told me she did?”
“Now, how could I possibly know what your goofy mother-in-law did? But I suppose you’ll tell me.”
“Yes, I’m so proud of her. She donated ten thousand dollars to the Glory Hole so they can update their soup kitchen. I’ve gotta say, she’s anything but selfish…”
“
Like me
?” Godiva screeched. “She isn’t selfish
like me
. Is that what you meant to say? I’ll have you know I’m going to make a nice big donation to a women’s shelter.”
“Since when?”
“Um, since now. You just shamed me into it.”
TWENTY EIGHT
They were on their way out the door to meet Nellie McNab when Flossie shuffled up the walk waving her hankie. “Yoo-hoo, Darlings, where are you going?” Goldie and Godiva exchanged glances.
Oh boy, don’t tell her anything.
“Hi Mom,” Goldie said. “We were just going for a little antiquing. I need a few things for my shop and I know how you hate picking through all that old stuff, so we didn’t bother to ask you along.”
“Darn right,” Flossie grumbled, “most of the things you buy aren’t even antiques—they’re things that were new when I was a girl. My mother threw old garbage like that out.” She raised one eyebrow, planted her hands on her hips and tapped her orthopedic shoe on the landing. “Wait just a minute! You’re going antiquing? We’ve got work to do! We’ve got to figure out how to set a trap for those Russians. This is no time to go traipsing off to have fun.”
“But this is business. We won’t be gone long. I can’t bring everything to a screeching halt while Rudy minds the shop. I have responsibilities, you know.”
“Well, how about your responsibility to that poor Taku fellow? Sitting there in jail while you tend to business, humph! Monkey business is what it is. Priceless gems floating around, Russian thugs ready to pounce on Godiva’s boyfriend. And you girls are going shopping! What’s this generation coming to?”
The twins finally talked Flossie down, and she stomped off saying that she was going to confer with Sterling.
Godiva’s Town Car crawled through Los Angeles traffic on its way to Westwood, the college town that houses UCLA. They arrived about ten minutes late at The Gardens on Glendon and scanned the people waiting to be seated. The sisters assumed that Belle’s “soul sister”, Nellie McNab, would be cut of the same cloth and tried to spot anyone who looked something like Belle.
Godiva shook her head and motioned Goldie to an empty seat. “Maybe Nellie is late, too.” She started to sit down when a slim, athletic looking woman who appeared to be in her late fifties, came rushing up to them. Her long blonde hair rested in soft waves on her shoulders and she wore a chic red leather blazer, designer jeans and ankle boots. She held her arms out to the startled twins. “I’m so sorry to be late. I don’t think it’s possible to be on time anymore in this town. Even when you allow an extra half hour, something happens.”
Goldie found her voice first. “Nell…Nellie? Is that you?”
A smile crossed the woman’s lovely face and her green eyes twinkled. “Yup, I’m the one you’re looking for. I probably should have described myself to you, but from Belle’s description of her girls, I knew you would be easy to spot. So tell me, which one of you is lucky enough to have Belle as your mother-in-law? I just love that woman.”