Unleashed (A Melanie Travis Mystery) (22 page)

“Out here.”

The front door was still standing open. Tim and Chuck were in the yard. Each was carrying a large black-plastic trash bag, and they were heading for Chuck’s pickup.

“I found those files you needed.”

“Great.” Tim flashed me a grin over his shoulder. “Be with you in a sec.” He reached the truck and hoisted his bag up onto the bed. “Chuck offered to dump this for us.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem.” Chuck threw his bag up after Tim’s. “No way I want all that stuff going bad in there and stinking up the place.”

“That’s right. You mentioned you were going to be looking for another tenant soon.”

“Yeah.” Chuck swiped his cap off his head and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “I’d like to get someone in here by next month. Worst case, the month after. I ought to be thinking about running an ad.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Tim. “I heard Brian talking about the house. He said he’s going to take over the lease.”

Chuck and I both stared at him.

“Whatever for?” I asked, surprised.

“Who’s Brian?” said Chuck.

“Sheila’s business partner,” I told him. “Brian Endicott. He lives in Purchase. I can’t imagine why he’d want to rent another place up here.”

“Don’t ask me.” Tim shrugged. “I only know what I heard. He said Sheila wasn’t sure when she took the place whether she was going to stay on the East Coast long-term or not. Brian thought it was a pretty good deal, so he cosigned the lease with her.”

Chuck scratched his head. He looked as baffled as I felt. “That can’t be right,” he said.

I thought back, trying to remember what Sheila had said about the arrangement. “Did you draw up the lease?” I asked Chuck.

“Nah. My mother did all that, right before she went into the nursing home. I know she’s been a little dotty lately, but she never mentioned anything about there being two names on the lease.”

Tim pulled out a business card. “Here’s the number at the office. Maybe you want to call Brian and check with him about it.”

“Thanks.” Chuck pocketed the card. “I’ll do that.”

Tim stared meaningfully at the envelope under my arm. “Is that it? Is that what we came for?”

“Yes. I looked through it and I’m pretty sure everything’s here.”

“Great.” He made no attempt to hide his relief.

“That’s it?” Chuck looked at the two of us. “All you wanted was that little bitty envelope? Heck if I’d have known that, I wouldn’t have given you such a hard time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “And thanks for helping with the kitchen. My fiancé’s been named executor of Sheila’s estate, so I’m sure he’ll be contacting you soon about moving the rest of her things out.”

“Tell him to call me anytime.” Chuck walked up onto the porch, pulled the door shut, and locked it. “I’m happy to be of service.”

“Sure,” Tim said under his breath. “At twenty-five dollars a shot.”

“Don’t complain,” I told him as we got in the car. “It’s a small price to pay for getting these back. In Carrie’s eyes, you’ll be a hero.”

“Yeah.” He smiled happily. “With any luck, she’ll want to shower me with gratitude.”

Jeez, I thought, turning back toward White Plains. Was there anyone who didn’t have an ulterior motive?

First thing I did when I got home was phone Aunt Peg. She assumed I was calling to fill her in on what I’d been up to all week, which bought me some goodwill. Unfortunately, as soon as I mentioned that I was hoping she could baby-sit that evening, the jig was up.

“That’s why you’re calling?” Censure coated her tone. “Because you need a baby-sitter?”

“Actually, what I need is a dog-sitter. If it was just Davey, I could get Joanie from down the block. But as you know, right now Faith has to be looked after, too.”

“Has her temperature dropped?”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you missed it,” she considered. “What day is it?”

“Sixty.” Of a normal gestation of sixty-three.

“Then of course you’re not going to leave her with some witless teenager from down the block!”

Joanie wasn’t witless. Far from it. If she had been, I never would have left Davey with her. Somehow, things like that never seemed to occur to Aunt Peg.

“What time do you want me?” she asked.

“Six o’clock for an early dinner? I’ll make lasagna.”

“And be prepared to give me a full report.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t be fresh, Melanie.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Actually I would. But not when I was asking a favor, and hoping she might grant it.

By the time Davey got home after being picked up at camp by Alice, then playing for a while at the Brickmans’ house, the lasagna was in the oven and the ingredients for salad and garlic bread were laid out on the counter. Faith, who’d been fed a nutritious dinner which she’d mostly declined to eat, was waiting by the door for his arrival. Together, they came bounding into the kitchen, Davey still dressed in the mud-streaked clothing that had weathered a day of soccer.

“Come over here.” I beckoned to my son.

He grimaced. “Not another hug. You just saw me this morning.”

I hadn’t hugged him that morning. In fact now that he mentioned it, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had my arms around him. It must have been several days.

“No, not a hug,” I said, as he advanced warily. “I need your clothes.”

“What clothes?”

“The ones you have on.” I lifted his arms and pulled the T-shirt off. “They’re filthy.”

Another mother might have sent him up to his room to change. Not me. I’ve tried that tack before. Best case, he puts on clean clothes and the dirty ones end up in a ball at the bottom of his closet. Worst case, as he walks up the stairs, he remembers something he meant to look at, gets engrossed, and never changes at all.

With a windy sigh, Davey stepped out of his shorts. It’s a sad thing when your six-year-old thinks he’s humoring you. Just to complete his degradation, I grabbed a paper towel, wet it under the faucet, and swiped at his face, hands, and knees.

“Camp okay?” I asked as he squirmed to evade the threat of cleanliness.

“Yeah. I scored two goals in scrimmage.”

“Get to eat your own lunch?”

“Yup. I think Randy got switched to a different group. I didn’t see him all day. Joey and I shared our lunches. He traded his cupcake for my apple.” My son chortled. “How dumb is he?”

Just the kind of story that warms a mother’s heart. Then again, at least he was eating.

“Aunt Peg’s coming,” I said when he was reasonably clean. “Go upstairs and get dressed. She’ll be here in fifteen minutes or so.”

As he and Faith raced away, I opened the basement door and tossed the dirty clothes down the steps in the direction of the washing machine. Tomorrow’s problem.

The term fashionably late was not coined with my aunt in mind. She believes in being punctual. Or early, depending on her mood and level of curiosity.

Davey had barely gone upstairs when I saw her headlights flash through the living-room window. I opened the front door and waited on the step. Aunt Peg got out of her car empty-handed.

“You didn’t bring dessert,” I said as she came up the walk. It was hard not to sound accusatory. “You always bring dessert. I didn’t buy any.”

“I’m trying not to be so predictable,” she said, a declaration that left me temporarily speechless. “We’ll have to make do.”

Aunt Peg swept past me and into the house. “Is Faith okay? Davey well?”

“Everyone’s fine. They’re upstairs.”

“Good place for them. Then you can tell me all about Sheila’s murderer.”

“I would if I could.” I followed her into the kitchen.

“You mean you don’t know who did it yet?”

“I’m working on it. By the way, have you spoken to your nephew lately? He’s apparently serious enough about Bertie Kennedy that he’s going to meet her parents.”

Aunt Peg’s brow lifted. “Isn’t Davey a little young to be dating?”

I supposed I should have seen that coming. Technically, Davey was Aunt Peg’s great-nephew, but most of the time it was entirely too much trouble to stand on ceremony. Hence the confusion.

“Frank,” I said. “Your other nephew.”

“Frank,” Aunt Peg mused. “I haven’t heard a peep. I figured that meant he was staying out of trouble.”

A sad but true commentary on the state of our family relations.

“He is. At least as far as I know. But he and Bertie have been seeing each other.”

“Poor girl,” Peg murmured.

“Don’t worry about Bertie. She can take care of herself. Which brings me to my point. Did you know that last year she and Kenny Boyle were living together? And that when he’s not busy cheating his clients he’s into emotional and physical abuse?”

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me? The part about the abuse, that is. Not Bertie, I had no idea she and Kenny were a couple.” Aunt Peg sank into a chair at the kitchen table and thought for a minute.

I got out a cutting board and started chopping up vegetables for the salad.

“Kenny was married once upon a time,” Peg said. “His wife left him. This was pretty far back, five years ago at least. There were all sorts of whispers at the time. Unsubstantiated rumors, you know, the sort of things one doesn’t pay any attention to.”

Like hell, I thought.

“Of course his wife wasn’t a dog person, so everyone was pretty much inclined to take Kenny’s side. We had to, don’t you see? It was the only side we really heard. His ex-wife just disappeared.”

“Disappeared, like from dog shows?” I asked. “Or off the face of the earth?” Where dog people are concerned, this is often considered to be one and the same.

“From the show circuit,” Aunt Peg said stiffly. That was her way of reminding me that she doesn’t like it when I take a poke at her avocation. “I have no idea what happened to her in real life. She’s probably remarried and living a perfectly normal life in Hoboken.”

“Maybe she’s dead,” I said cheerfully. “Strangled under suspicious circumstances. That would help clear things up.”

“You have a very odd sense of humor,” Aunt Peg muttered. “And I’d feel better if you didn’t say such things while holding a sharp knife in your hands.”

“Point taken.” I smiled over my shoulder. “Would you like to cut up the cucumbers?”

“If I must.”

She got up, came over, and went to work. This could take a while. Aunt Peg has spent so much time scissoring Poodles that she tends to aim automatically for clean lines and rounded edges. I stuck the garlic bread in the oven, got out some place mats, and began to set the table.

“All right,” Peg said. “So we know Kenny was angry at Sheila, and we think he’s capable of violence.”

“No, we know he’s capable of it. At least against inanimate objects.” I told her about the pile of rubble Bertie and I had found in Kenny’s garage. “And don’t forget Alida Trent. She was also mad at Sheila. Not only that, but she had set herself up with a spy in the
Woof!
office.”

“Must have been that boy, Tim.”

I stared at her in amazement. “How did you know that?”

Peg shrugged, unconcerned by her acuity. “He just seems like the type.”

“Well, you’re right. And aside from his dealings with Alida, Tim also has his eye on Carrie, the receptionist. He and I spent this morning driving up to Sheila’s house to retrieve some compromising pictures Carrie allowed Marlon Dickie to take after he convinced her that they would impress Brian.”

Aunt Peg pondered that for a minute while slices of cucumber continued to fly from her blade. “And she wanted to impress Brian because?”

“She apparently has a crush on him.”

“Good Lord. Isn’t there anyone in that office who isn’t all tangled up with everyone else?”

I folded three napkins into triangles and placed them on the mats. “Aubrey Jones. Maybe. Although she seems to have been running interference between Sheila and Alida. And Tim thinks she has some sort of history with Brian. I have no idea what that’s about. Maybe I’ll ask him tonight.”

“Tonight, right,” said Peg. “Aside from the fact that you’re going to serve me a delicious dinner, tell me again why I’m here.”

“So I can go talk to Brian.”

“Whom you just saw this morning.”

“He didn’t want to talk in the office. And I couldn’t blame him. Even with the door shut, you still get the impression there are curious ears listening everywhere.”

Aunt Peg snorted. “So Brian’s been hoist by his own petard. Pardon me if I’m feeling rather short on sympathy.”

“I agree. But I have to admit I wanted privacy for this discussion, too. Brian implied that he has things to tell me about Sam. Things that Sam would never have told me himself.”

“Brian may be lying,” Peg said crisply. She’s always been a staunch defender of Sam’s. “Have you considered that?”

“Of course. And I’m sure he’s also interested in covering his own butt. From what I’ve been able to learn, he had as good a motive for killing Sheila as anyone. Maybe better.”

“Money?”

“Lots of it.”

Aunt Peg had a whole medley of vegetables chopped up by then. She scraped them off the board and onto the lettuce in the bowl. “I wouldn’t count him out then. And I’d be careful tonight. Are you sure you want to go to his house alone?”

Now that she mentioned it, no.

Aunt Peg saw my hesitation. “I have an idea.”

“You’re not coming with me,” I said firmly. That was the unwelcome direction her ideas usually veered in. “Who would watch Davey and Faith?”

“I can’t come in person, but I can be there in spirit.”

I stopped just short of rolling my eyes. I hoped this wasn’t some sort of religious thing.

“You have a cell phone, don’t you?” asked Peg.

“Sure, I usually keep it in my car.”

“Well, charge it up and put it in your pocket. Just before you get to Brian’s house, call me here and we’ll leave the line open. That way, I’ll be able to hear what’s happening. If anything goes wrong, I’ll dash out to my car phone and call for help.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Of course, Aunt Peg couldn’t leave it at that. She had to embellish.

“We need a code word,” she mused. “Something you can say if you begin to sense that things aren’t going well. You know, to alert me
before
I hear screaming.”

Comforting thought. If I had my way, there wouldn’t be any screaming.

“Poodle,” Peg decided. “That’s the word we need. Not likely to come up in conversation on its own, but something you could work in quite handily if you had to.”

I’d been thinking along the lines of
mayday,
s.o.s., or just plain
help!

“Poodle it is,” I agreed.

Aunt Peg and I had spent so much time chatting before dinner that I ended up having to leave as soon as we finished eating. Peg encouraged me to leave the dishes to her and accompanied me to the front door.

“Don’t forget,” she whispered heavily into clandestine mode. “Poodle.”

“Got it.”

Of course when I was off by myself, driving down the Merritt Parkway, the whole thing began to seem pretty silly. It was nice to take precautions, but I was quite certain I wouldn’t need a code word because Brian wasn’t going to do anything that would require me to call for reinforcements.

In fact, if I thought about it—which I’d been steadfastly refusing to do all day—the thing I was most in danger of was learning something about Sam, or his past, that I didn’t want to know.

“Poodle,” I muttered as I pulled off the King Street exit. Knowing Aunt Peg, she was already sitting by the phone, awaiting my call.

I turned onto Brian’s road and pulled over onto the wide, grassy shoulder. All sorts of phone numbers are programmed into my cell phone, but not my home number since I can’t be in two places at once. Carefully, I picked out the digits by the light of the dashboard.

Aunt Peg answered right away. “Melanie?”

“It’s me. I’m going to put the phone in my pocket. Tell me if you can hear—”

Behind me, a police car came screaming up the darkened road. Its lights were flashing; the siren, on. I heard Aunt Peg squawk and lifted the phone to my ear.

“I heard
that,”
she said. “What was it?”

“Police car.”

I frowned, watching as the squad car’s brake lights, then signal light, flashed on. Quickly I shifted into gear and pulled back onto the road. It looked as though the blue-and-white police car had turned into Brian’s driveway.

“Melanie! What’s going on?”

“I don’t know yet. Give me a minute.”

Gravel swished beneath the wheels of the Volvo as I careened past Brian’s mailbox. The squad car I’d seen had joined another, already pulled up in front of the house. Their headlights lit a gruesome scene.

A body was lying crumpled in the driveway. A dark puddle that looked like blood, seeped out from beneath it. The body was on its stomach, face turned away; but I recognized the blue polo shirt and linen slacks, the topsiders on the splayed feet.