Smoked (The Alex Harris Mystery Series) (17 page)

“Alex, where are you?” my mother’s voice chirped in my ear.

“I’m just leaving the health club.”

“We’re all at Meme’s. Your dad is visiting Grandpa at Mills Pond, Michael took the kids to piano lessons and out for dinner and I assume John is working the case. So we’re having a girls’ night and the food just arrived.”

Twenty minutes later I walked into my grandmother’s house after stopping off at the bakery for some desserts. The bread and meats from the butcher shop would just have to keep until tomorrow.

“Where have you been all day?” my sister asked. She took the box from my hands and peeked inside. “Yum. Cannoli.”

After I loaded up my plate with basmati rice, tandoori chicken, some dal, which is a lentil dish, and several pieces of naan bread, I went out to the living room and squeezed onto the sofa between Theresa and Meme’s other good friend, Francis Haddock.

“Alex, Meme tells me you’re working as a PI now,” Mrs. Haddock said. I had met her two years ago when I helped solve the first murder Indian Cove had seen for many, many years. She seemed in need of some new friends and I had introduced her to Meme. Francis Haddock was originally from Scotland. She had a beautiful head of white hair and she was much thinner than Meme. She was a quiet, kind woman who made a great cup of tea but my grandmother had managed to bring her out of her shell and she was a great addition to Meme’s group.

“Well, not officially, but, yes, I am working on another murder.”

“You live such an interesting life, Alex,” Mrs. Haddock said. “Tell us all about it.”

I swallowed a piece of bread and shook my head. “It’s kind of a strange case because of the way the ivy was left under the leaves. The killer could have done that at any time. Mrs. Kravec’s daughter Ellery said the pile had been out there over a week, closer to two. So there was at least a ten-day period when someone could have snuck into the yard and left the ivy.”

“And you got a great area for that with the woods and all,” Meme said.

“True. Someone could have parked on the other side, especially at night, and walked in with a bag of the stuff and left it under the pile.”

“Maybe the ivy just got raked up by mistake,” Mrs. Haddock suggested.

I shook my head. “No. And the police haven’t released this bit of information so it goes no further than this room, but the auto injectors were emptied.”

“Right. John mentioned that on Saturday,” Sam said.

“So, I think we can assume the ivy was planted in the pile on purpose and the killer made sure no immediate help would be available.” Even if I had known about the pens, in the end they would have done no good. Surprisingly, it didn’t make me feel any better about not saving Mrs. Kravec’s life.

“But what’s the motive?” my mother asked. I was glad she was interested and not telling me to keep my nose out of it. Maybe having a cop for a son-in-law had sensitized her to having her family involved in dangerous situations.

“Actually, there are lots of motives. First the husband. They had problems and Mrs. Kravec was attacking him, or I should say his business, in her blog.” I ate a spoonful of rice and then continued. “But my gut tells me he didn’t do it. Then there’s the daughter. She’s a lovely girl, very close to her father but she and her mother had issues.”

“All mothers and daughters have issues,” my mother piped up looking over at Meme.

My grandmother waved her pudgy hand. “They do but they don’t kill each other over it. At least not yet. Who else you got, Alex?”

I set my plate down on the coffee table and crossed my legs, smiling at my mother’s horrified look at my grandmother’s comment. “The brother,” I began, but then my sister screamed and the room went silent.

“Samantha, what on earth is wrong with you?” my mother shouted.

“There! Look at her leg! Alex, you didn’t!”

I kicked my leg out with pride and pulled up my pant leg to show off my maple tree.

My mother let out a gasp. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Is that a tattoo?”

Meme cackled. “Sloth told me you stopped by. Good for you, kiddo. It looks real nice. Maybe I’ll get another one. Mine is all faded.”

I thought my mother would faint. You’d think I had pierced my head with a voodoo cross or something.

Sam took a closer look. “I want one. Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“It was kind of an impulse buy,” I said. “I’ll go with you this weekend if you want.”

“Me and Theresa and Francis are going too. Pick us up at ten. Mable, you in?”

My mother ignored Meme and looked at me. “Alex, you were telling us about the brother,” she said primly, clearly trying to get the subject off of tattoos.

“Right. The brother. They were not close but he lives in the family home. Turns out it actually belonged to Maria and she wanted to sell it. With her dead, it goes to him. Then there’s this couple, Frank and Carol Corliss. They owned a vegan-slash-vegetarian restaurant here in Indian Cove and Maria wrote some blogs accusing them of not using pure vegan products. Customers stopped coming and they lost the business.”

“Meme and I ate there once. Remember, Meme? The something world restaurant.” Theresa said.

“Oh, yeah. Had some veggie casserole. Good food but not many people.”

“When was this?” I asked.

“About six months, now, give or take,” Theresa answered.

This gave credence to my theory that the
Natural World
was doomed even before the blogs started. Restaurants are so difficult to pull off especially when you have no prior experience, which the Corliss’ did not, and your menu is so specific, which theirs was. Of course that didn’t mean they didn’t harbor resentment toward Maria because clearly they did.

“Earth to Alex,” my sister said, interrupting my musings.

“Oh, sorry, just thinking. So where was I? Oh, right. The two people she worked with on the vegan site had problems with her mostly over their ambitions and then there was this weird email I found that she sent to a man named Bob Spangler. He works at an investment firm in Stamford and I went over there today.”

“Why was it weird?” my mother asked.

“In the email she said she had some information he really needed to hear. He claims he never received the email and he had no idea who Maria was or why she would be writing to him.”

“Do you believe him?” Sam asked.

“Well, he claims the email probably went into a spam account, which makes sense because it was a business account and they usually have a lot of filters. And he did seem to be truly bewildered. He wanted me to let him know if I found out anything, which sounded a little odd, but I guess I would be curious, too.” Who was I kidding? A strange woman says she has info for me and then gets murdered? Of course I would want to know more. “So I guess that’s it for suspects,” I concluded.

“No. You forgot someone,” Meme said. “That girlfriend with the big hair.”

Right. A woman who loved Sergei and thought they were getting married issues him an ultimatum and probably starts to realize he had no intention of leaving the wife. Maybe she fixed it so the wife would leave permanently.

The next day I spent all morning at my office. I really did need to catch up on things plus Deanna Moffet was stopping by in the afternoon on her way home and I wanted to have some firm leads ready for her. There were job fairs and resources through the university but sometimes having connections was more help and I did know a lot of people.

Millie, Sam, and Marla converged on my office about eleven-thirty but as they were bearing food, I let them stay.

“When’s the big move?” I asked Millie.

“This weekend. I can’t wait. Reuben and I have been doing some shopping and you know, it’s going to be fun having my own home.”

“You seem to have gotten over your hesitations.”

“I did, Alex, thanks to you and my mom and Gran. They’re so happy for me. Gran is making curtains for the kitchen and my mother is reupholstering an old chair Reuben has. Poor guy doesn’t know what hit him.”

“You have to train them from the get-go, Millie,” Marla said. “From the get-go. Greg didn’t know what hit him either. Once we were married both my mother and his descended on us like ants at a picnic and turned our shabby little apartment into a palace. So, ladies, what’s everyone doing for the weekend?” Marla asked.

“On Saturday we’re getting tattoos just like Alex,” Sam said, and Millie and Marla turned to look at me.”

“You did not! Let’s see,” Marla squealed with delight.

I pulled up my gray slacks and showed them. “By the way, it’s fake. I didn’t want to say anything last night because teasing Mom was just too much fun.”

“Fake? Okay, now I have to have one, too.”

“Well, come with us, Marla. You, too, Millie, then we’ll help you move,” I said.

Everyone left my office and I grabbed the newspaper Marla had left on my desk. News always seemed to be bad so I tried to adhere to the belief that what I didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me, but something caught my eye. I continued to read the article about an area land developer and a certain section of New Haven that he had his eye on. As I continued to read it became abundantly clear this was the area in which George Shruder lived. I glanced at my watch. I had several hours before my meeting with Deanna. I grabbed my bag and car keys and told Millie I’d be back shortly.

It was the middle of the day so I figured I had a good chance of catching George at home. How many people needed a violin player in the afternoon? I thought back to the email exchange George had with his sister over the course of a couple of weeks. He went from being very upset with the prospect of her selling the place to begging her to sell it to him. Had George known about the developer? Did he find out just in time and decided he could buy it from his sister and then turn it around for a tidy profit or did he just not want to have to move from the family home. The article said the developer, a Mr. Terrell Cotswall, was having a difficult time with the city planners. While the area wasn’t designated as a historical part of town the houses were old and there would be a lot of opposition to tearing down these beautiful homes along with the beautiful trees that lined all the streets for whatever Mr. Cotswall had in mind. Did George really think it would go through? And even if it did, how long would it take?

I pulled up in front of the house and made my way to the front door. I rang the bell and heard nothing. I rang it once more and getting no response I made my way around to the side. The gate was locked and I wasn’t about to climb over it. I went back to my car and sat for a few minutes deciding what to do. A car approached from the other end of the block and pulled into the drive. George Shruder got out and I called out to him.

“Again.” George shook his bird-like head. “What can I do for you today?”

I followed him into the house. “I wanted to ask you if you knew about Terrell Cotswall before or after your sister died?”

“Terrell who?” George asked though I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

“You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

George put up his hands in a surrender fashion. “Fine. You got me. So I wanted the house so I could sell it to Mr. Cotswall but before you go accusing me of killing my sister again, it seems highly unlikely he will be able to pull off his latest development scheme. Hardly anyone around here wants to sell except me and the city will never push it through no matter how “connected” Terrell thinks he is. New Englanders are so protective of their heritage.”

“But you didn’t know that at the time. And you lied to me when you said this house meant so much to you. Obviously, it doesn’t. You just wanted to sell it for a nice profit to a developer.”

“You’re right. At the time of my sister’s death I didn’t know the deal most likely would fall through, but it doesn’t really matter. This house is a wonderful investment with or without Terrell Cotswall and it is my home.” George stopped talking and looked around the room. I could swear I saw his eyes become misty. “And while I admit I would have sold I’m almost glad I don’t have to because I do love it here. I’m not sure where I would have gone if it sold.”

“Forgive me for asking, but even inheriting the house, there must be a lot of costs involved like taxes and upkeep. Are you going to be able to manage all that?”

George thought about this for a few moments. “I should be fine. I didn’t have to use any of my savings to buy it outright so what I saved there will cover the taxes.”

I sat in my car a few minutes later wondering what I had just learned. Nothing. A big fat nothing. George was correct; with or without selling to Terrell Cotswall, the house was worth every penny—pennies that George Shruder, in the end, never had to part with because his sister was kind enough to die before he had to come up with the money.

I drove back to the office feeling let down. What? Did I think the man was just going to confess he killed his sister so he could sell the house and turn a big profit? George Shruder was still on my list of likely candidates for murder. I just didn’t have any proof. Yet.

I got back to the office in time for my three o’clock interview. After that I had just enough time to make a cup of tea before Millie poked her head in to say Deanna Moffet had arrived.

Like the other day at the university, Deanna was dressed simply but with elegance. She still had the small nautical earrings but today she wore a gray pencil skirt with a pale pink blouse.

She took a seat and put her briefcase down. “I love your offices. Very cozy. Thanks for seeing me today. I live in Westport so this is on my way home. Can you tell I’m anxious to get things moving?”

Deanna was a bit more animated today but that was probably because I wasn’t interrogating her like I had on Monday. At least not yet. I still had some questions for her.

We spent the next forty minutes going over the files she had brought and the companies I had contacted. I would work with Millie to get the graduates in for testing and then hopefully we could start placing them in the temp positions I had managed to secure so far.