Smoked (The Alex Harris Mystery Series) (12 page)

Next I checked my email account. A few bills had come in that I would pay later. My best friend Mary-Beth Ramsey had emailed me her apologies for not being able to make Henry’s party and there were several emails offering me an array of products and services I had no use for. There was also one from Ellery and I opened it up. She had emailed me a link to her mother’s email accounts along with the passwords. She was at the police station again as they had taken her father in for further questioning. She sounded desperate and hoped I could find something,
anything
, in the emails that might help.

I poured myself another cup of tea and clicked on the first link. It took me to Maria’s business account and I typed in the login and password. Maria had obviously been a very organized person. Like me she had created folders for storing her emails. I scanned the list of folders. She had one each for Ellery, Nadine and Ryan. There were folders for invoices, vegan recipes, vegan products and one for research. There was also a folder she had called miscellaneous and I opened that one now.

Maria may have been organized but she was also a hoarder. The miscellaneous box was filled with over a hundred emails. I didn’t know where to start so I clicked instead on the folder for Nadine. Maybe I could find an email exchange that would give me some insight as to why Maria had fired the young woman and why she was now back. The folder opened up and to my surprise it was completely empty. That was odd. I worked in the same office with Sam but I sent her plenty of emails each day with attachments she needed to act on or just business-related questions if I didn’t feel like getting up and going to her office. I then clicked on the sent folder and searched for emails to Nadine. Again, nothing. Next, I checked the deleted folder with the same results. The only thing I could think of was once Nadine was fired, Maria deleted all the emails. Now that she was back, maybe they never had a chance to email before Maria died. I needed to find out when exactly Nadine came back to the Vegan View.

I next checked the email folder for Ryan. There were quite a few and as I read through some of them they seemed to have a common theme of discussing products, packaging for their own line, etc. As far as I could tell, there didn’t seem to be anything negative going on there.

I logged out and went over to Maria’s private account. She had it organized pretty much the same with various folders. There was one called
GS
and I clicked on it. There were about a dozen emails between Maria and her brother George over the course of several years. The last one had a date of three days before she died. I clicked on it and read the exchange that occurred over the last two weeks.

George, can we get together and discuss the house. I’m thinking about selling it. Let me know a good time to stop by.

Maria, how can you even think about selling this house? We grew up here. It’s our home. I don’t think there’s anything more to say.

George, as you are well aware, Mother and Father left the house to me. You have been living in it, rent free, I might add, all these years due to my kindness. I need to sell and I want to put it up for sale before the holidays. I may already have a buyer. Is tonight a good time?

Don’t bother, Maria, I won’t be home. There is nothing to discuss. I’m not going to let you sell this house. It may have been left to you but I’m the one who has taken care of it all this time. It’s my home, Maria. Where do you expect me to go? You know I don’t have the money to buy it from you, but give me some time and maybe I can figure something out.

George, if you want to buy it, that would be wonderful, but don’t think I’m going to give you a better deal just because we’re related. You’ve got one week to figure something out and then I’ll be over to pound a sign into the front yard. Of course, maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll die before then (ha ha) and it will be yours. Where exactly you go, I don’t care. Don’t forget, George. One week.

Maria, don’t sell before you talk to me. I’m trying to get something together so I can buy. You know how much this house means to me. Please just give me a couple of weeks.

“Wow!” I said out loud. So Maria planned to sell the house and kick her brother out on the street. But if she died first, according to what she wrote, the house would revert to George free and clear. I thought back to the house and what a lovely neighborhood it was. I felt certain Maria would have gotten quite a nice price for it given how George had kept it up. And now that Maria was dead, George could stay there forever.

Was Maria’s untimely death a stroke of luck for George or had he methodically emptied her auto injectors and padded the pile of leaves with poison ivy?

This was certainly a piece of information that required a further look. The brother and sister clearly had animosity toward one another so I had motive. Now I needed to find out whether George had the opportunity. Of course there was no way to tell when the ivy had been tossed in with the leaves and no way of knowing when the pens had been emptied. But I could at least find out if George had access to Maria and Sergei’s current home.

I quickly emailed Ellery back and asked her if her uncle had come to the house recently and also if he had a key. The more I thought about it, this seemed farfetched. The brother and sister barely spoke, so why would Maria entrust him with a key to her home.

Another thought crept into my mind; one that would pertain to just about anyone I deemed a potential suspect—who knew that Sergei was out of town? Anyone who knew could rig up this whole plan and make Sergei look guilty simply because it happened while he was gone. It was a stroke of genius, really. Empty the pens, hide the ivy and just wait. Considering the killer did not have to be present when the actual murder occurred, what better way to throw suspicion on the husband. Of course, who knew Maria would go out and burn leaves while Sergei was away? And then I remembered something Ellery had told me the first night we met. She said Maria loved to burn leaves and it was something she did with her father. George would certainly know about this chore his sister and father shared. But how could he guarantee she would burn the leaves while Sergei was gone? Why did there always have to be one small detail that didn’t fit. But the more I thought about it, George Shruder was looking good for this.

My phone rang bringing me out of my thoughts. I hit the speaker phone and answered.

“Alex, it’s Ellery. Just got your email. I doubt my uncle had a key.

“Darn. I was hoping he did,” I said feeling let down.

“But the door is never locked.” Ellery’s voice came over the speaker. “Dad is too trusting and my mother always had her mind on something else and would forget.”

“Do you know if your uncle came by the house recently?” I asked.

“No. Not that I know of. I do know my mom wanted to talk with him. Something about the house. But that’s all she said. She did say that maybe she could get him to come over for dinner. But as far as I know that never happened. What’s this all about?”

“I found something in the emails but I’m not sure if it means anything. I want to check it out first before I tell you.”

“Okay. Look, they’re getting ready to release my dad. I have to go.”

The phone went dead. I poured another cup of tea. If Sergei and Maria didn’t lock their doors, just about anyone could come in and empty the pens, go out into the yard, plant the poison ivy and leave. I could see their yard from my house, but the way their house was situated someone could be in their yard and the other homes on the street wouldn’t be able to tell. Plus both of our homes backed up onto woods. There was a walking trail through the woods and sometimes I saw people out there. Potentially, just about anybody could sneak in through the trees and tamper with the pens and leaves. But why? Clearly the whole city wasn’t out to get Maria Kravec. Or maybe they were. Maybe her blogs had bothered the entire community. Now I was just being silly.

I logged onto her site again and went to the blog page. I clicked on the various months shown and the woman had clearly been active with her writing. The most recent series had been on the meat industry and I quickly glanced at some of the blogs. I never like watching those exposés they have on TV about some industry doing horrible things. I know I should be a better citizen but hearing about how the ocean is filled with trash or how meat is produced is just disgusting and makes me upset because I don’t know what to do about it. I can understand why people become vegetarians and vegans. But if you listened to everything, the truth is you would never eat. Even vegetables are sprayed with poisonous stuff. And every day we read about how something that was supposed to be good for us, has in actuality been slowly killing us for years. My way of coping is to just stick my head in the sand and pretend I don’t know any better.

Maria certainly didn’t pull any punches and no one could blame Sergei for being furious with her. But killing her? Let’s face it, she wasn’t the only one expounding on the evils of the meat industry. And people who liked their meat weren’t giving it up no matter what. But Nena did say Sergei wanted to get back at his wife. I need to find out exactly how he planned to do that.

I continued looking at the blogs. Earlier in the year she had taken to writing about the obesity problem, once again not pulling any punches. The woman was controversial to be sure, but still, if you don’t like the blog, stop reading it. Which made me think of Frank and Carol Corliss. Some people take these sites to heart and stop patronizing someone’s business.

I had an idea and I went back to Maria’s business emails and clicked on the miscellaneous folder. I did a search on Frank Corliss’ name and low and behold a couple of emails popped up. Just as he said, he had contacted her, but he also told me she never replied. I found one email from Maria to Frank. In it she told Frank she had a few minutes before a taping at a local radio station and she could meet with him at a coffee shop next door. I couldn’t find a reply and had no idea if Frank ever showed up. I rinsed my cup, left it on the draining board to dry and went to find out.

While I had been scanning Meme’s posts earlier I saw one announcing the opening of the
Body Expressions
, Sloth’s tattoo shop. It was located in Pirates Cove and Meme had told me Sloth was able to negotiate a great deal for the first floor of an old home located in the city center. It had several rooms and he planned on living there as well to save on the cost of two rents. So far it sounded like Sloth was doing everything right.

I didn’t have an address, but like Indian Cove, all you had to do was drive down the main street through the town and you could pretty much find everything there. Sure enough, I found the
Body Expressions
at the end of the main road and pulled into a parking spot located out front. Two people were coming down the walk as I was going in.

I don’t know what I expected, but the inside of
Body Expressions
wasn’t it. The place was lovely. The walls were painted a soft tangerine and there were a lot of plants. There were a couple of chairs off to the side and several books containing pictures of tattoos placed on a small table. On the walls were several pieces of framed art. An open door led to a room in back and I could just make out a long table and some equipment. But what really got my attention was a display case with rosary beads. Beautiful rosary beads.

“See anything you like?” a young man with a tight T-shirt and thick biceps asked.

“Are these yours?” I asked pointing to the beads.

“They are. I also make custom ones and the designs on the walls are mine as well. They’re just a sampling. I have a lot more in the books over there. Are you looking for something special?”

“I’m Alex Harris Van der Burg. Mrs. Redmond is my grandmother,” I said extending my hand.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Seymour. Seymour Pratt.”

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were Sloth. The owner?’

The young man smiled and turned a slight shade of red. “That’s me. Not too many people call me Sloth anymore, but your grandmother gets a kick out of telling people that’s my name. I used to run with a tougher crowd and Seymour wasn’t bad ass enough.”

I laughed. “Yeah, my grandmother’s a real character. So you design rosary beads and tattoos?”

“I know, a strange combination. I was raised Catholic and as I kid I made some for my mother and grandmother. Just kid stuff, but it stuck. Now I use crystal beads or wood, whatever the customer wants. That’s how I met Mrs. Redmond. Through the church. I’m getting back to it after all these years.”

“So tell me something about tattoos. I’ve been thinking about getting one for years, but just haven’t done anything about it.”

“Most of the designs I use, I create. I also have some standards. I use commercial ink and I mix my own colors as well. But I’m hearing some hesitation in your voice. Tattoos aren’t for everyone but if you want to have some fun I also have a custom line of temporary tattoos.”

“You mean the kind that you transfer on and then can wash off?” I asked thinking this might be the way to go.

“Those, yes, and I can design something directly on your skin with a henna. It will last several days or I can do temporary airbrush tattoos. There are a lot of options but what I think you might like the most is for me to custom design a temporary transfer tattoo and then I can create as many as you want. You can put them on when you like, wash them off, and then use another one another day. Sound good?”

It did sound good and after working up some ideas I left
Body Expressions
with an order that would be ready in about a week.

Next, I drove over to the Corliss home. Carol Corliss answered the door and said Frank was in the kitchen having a cup of coffee and reading the paper.

“Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, Mr. Corliss, but I have a couple more questions if you don’t mind.”