A Catered Wedding (24 page)
Authors: Isis Crawford
Bernie thought about how the checks for the wedding dinner had been written.
“I'm right, aren't I?” Bree said.
“Yes,” Bernie said. “I think you are.”
“Exactly.” Bree placed an antique silver pie knife on each plate. “Like the house they live in. Almost all of their out-of-pocket expenses are paid for by their corporation, which includes the house and the staff.”
“Isn't that unusual?” Bernie asked as Bree stepped back to admire her handiwork.
Bree moved one of the knives a millimeter to the right. “Not really. You'd be surprised how often it's done. And speaking of moving . . . what about you? The daughter of a friend of mine is leaving for L.A. and she has the cutest little apartment out on Milbrook.
“It's one of those grandmother apartments. A converted garage. It's got the most cunning second floor. It would be perfect for you. You should think about it.”
Bernie nodded. “I will,” she promised but what she was really thinking about was the fact that Esmeralda liked to hunt.
Chapter 25
S
ean studied his daughters. On his insistence they'd come up to his room as soon as they'd finished closing the store, and they didn't look happy about it. He knew that the last thing they wanted to do at this moment was talk about what had happened this afternoon at the Raid Estate. But that was too bad. He'd waited long enough.
ean studied his daughters. On his insistence they'd come up to his room as soon as they'd finished closing the store, and they didn't look happy about it. He knew that the last thing they wanted to do at this moment was talk about what had happened this afternoon at the Raid Estate. But that was too bad. He'd waited long enough.
Libby was sitting in the armchair while Bernie was perched on the edge of his bed. He took a deep breath. They were his flesh and blood but sometimes he didn't understand them.
He didn't understand them at all. He'd never had this sort of trouble with his men. Ever. He'd always managed to communicate with them. So what was the problem here? What should he be saying that he wasn't?
“Are you calm enough so that we can talk now?” Bernie asked him.
Sean wheeled his chair forward then wheeled it back to where it was.
“I'm always calm.”
“You weren't earlier,” Bernie pointed out.
“Given the circumstances I thought I was admirably restrained. You two were supposed to talk to the shopkeepers that service the Raid Estate,” he told them. “You weren't supposed to commit a felony.”
“Was what we did a felony?” Libby replied.
“What else would you call breaking and entering and stealing property?” Sean asked her.
“How about being enterprising,” Bernie said.
“Ha. Ha. I'm sure that the judge would allow that as a defense at your trial. That is if you didn't get shot first.”
“Hey, we didn't know we were going to discover a secret entrance into the house,” Bernie said. “Which turned out to be a good thing. Even you have to admit that. Plus you've always told us to talk to the main players first. We were going to talk to the shopkeepers next. Right, Libby?”
“Right,” Libby echoed.
“Don't throw my words back at me,” Sean snapped. In spite of being right why did he feel as if he was on the losing end of this discussion? “What if you'd gotten caught? You're already in trouble in West Vale.”
“But we didn't get caught,” Bernie pointed out. “No one knows what we did.”
“That was only pure dumb luck,” Sean pointed out.
“It was skill,” Bernie insisted.
“No, it wasn't,” Sean replied.
“Come on, Dad.” Bernie went over and rubbed his shoulders. “Admit it. We did great. For one thing we know now how whoever killed Leeza got out of the house to set off the remote control device without being seen.”
“I'm not admitting anything.” But Sean could feel himself begin to thaw. That was the problem right there. He could never stay mad at his girls long enough.
“You would have done the same thing in our position,” Bernie told him.
“I most emphatically would not.”
Bernie leaned over his shoulder. Her hair touched his cheek. “Did you look at the folder we got?”
“Stole.”
“Okay. Stole,” Bernie allowed.
“Yes,” Sean said grudgingly. Originally he'd been going to throw the papers out in the trash as an object lesson to his daughters on the results of their folly, but given the circumstances he didn't have that luxury.
“And?” Bernie said.
Sean didn't say anything.
“They were interesting, weren't they?”
“Mildly,” Sean admitted.
“Oh come on,” Bernie said.
Even though he didn't want to, Sean had to admit that Bernie was correct. Perhaps he couldn't interpret the fine points of what he was reading, but he could understand enough to get the general gist of the thing. According to what he'd read, upon his marriage Jura was deeding over almost a quarter of his portion of the company to Leeza. As his friend Paul had once said to him, there's nothing stupider than a middle-aged man who falls in love for the first time with a younger woman.
“All right. It's interesting in the light of what Ditas told me while he was here,” Sean allowed.
“Well, that's a definite motive,” Libby said when her father was finished relating the conversation he'd had with Ditas.
“Yeah,” Bernie said. “Jura is giving Leeza all this money because he's gaga over her and then he finds out she's screwing around with his brother. It would piss me off.”
Sean made a face.
“What's the matter?” Bernie asked him. “You don't agree?”
“I don't know. It's too neat.”
“You like things neat. Remember you always say simple is better.”
“Yeah.” Sean bit his lip. “But . . .”
“But what?” Libby asked.
“Suppose Ditas is lying to me.”
“About having an affair?” Libby asked.
Sean nodded.
“But he was the one that was upset at the funeral.” Bernie pointed out. “He was the one that was upset after Leeza died.”
Sean bit the inside of his cheek. “But suppose that's all an act.”
“Why do it?” asked Libby.
“Well, if you really don't like your brother, if you hate him, it's as good a way as any to get him in trouble.”
Bernie stood up and turned on the window fan. A picture of Ditas glaring at Jura flashed through her mind. But still.... “That's a fairly elaborate con.”
“I know it is. I'm just exploring all the options.”
“It argues a real cold person. Almost pathologically cold.”
“Agreed.”
“So what makes you believe that about Ditas?” she asked her dad when she'd sat back down.
“I don't know. A feeling in my gut,” Sean said slowly. “It's probably nothing but it strikes me that Ditas gave it up too easy. Here's this guy and he comes right up and he tells me with very little prompting on my part that he's having an affair with his brother's girlfriend. I mean that kind of thing makes you look really bad. He doesn't have to tell me squat. Nada. So why do something like that?”
“To make himself feel better?” Libby asked. “You always used to say that confession is good for the soul.”
“And you always fell for it,” Bernie said to her sister.
“Very amusing,” Libby retorted.
Sean ignored his daughters. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his wheelchair. “No. The more I think about it, the more I don't like this whole set up.”
“And let's not forget about Esmeralda,” Bernie said. “She's apparently in love with Jura, she working for him for all these years, and then Leeza waltzes in and takes over.
“And to add insult to injury, Leeza makes her serve as her maid of honor. Talk about rubbing salt in the wound. Then Leeza dies and she has Jura again, not to mention a raise.”
“How do you know about the raise?” Sean asked.
“Bree told me.”
“So it's safe to say Esmeralda has benefited from Leeza's death.”
“It certainly is.”
Sean watched a seagull perch on his neighbor's roof. The damn things were everywhere now. They were the new pigeons. “You don't happen to know if Esmeralda knows how to use a crossbow?”
“Funny thing you should ask,” Bernie replied. And she related what Esmeralda's sister had told her in Bree's kitchen.
Sean rubbed his forehead. Instead of getting clearer things were becoming muddier. He needed to clarify.
“Okay,” he began. “What do we have? All our suspects have a familiarity with all sorts of weapons. All of our suspects had access to a crossbow. All of our suspects had access to the scene of the crime and all of our suspects had a motive for murdering Leeza Sharp.
“Jura's is jealousy. Or rage at being made a fool of. Ditas could also have been jealous because Leeza was marrying his brother. Esmeralda could have been jealous of Leeza because she wanted to marry Jura. And Joe . . . maybe Joe wants control of the business.”
“And don't forget both brothers benefit financially from Leeza not marrying Jura, not to mention the fact that someone is ripping off the business by selling inferior caviar,” Libby reminded Sean.
“No. I haven't forgotten. I think we have to narrow things down a little.” Sean studied the seagull. The thing had a beak like a razorblade. “For one thing I think it would be helpful if we could get a peek at everyone's bank accounts.”
“See if anyone unusual shows up,” Bernie said.
“Exactly,” said Sean.
“And how are we going to do that?” Libby asked.
Bernie turned to Libby. Sean didn't like the smug expression on her face.
“Easy,” Bernie told her. “One of Dad's law enforcement buddies will take a look-see, right Daddy?”
Sean didn't reply. Why had he said anything?
Bernie jumped off the bed. “And you're saying what we did was illegal.”
“It's not the same thing.”
“Yes, it is. So when
you
do it, it's okay. When we do it, it isn't?”
you
do it, it's okay. When we do it, it isn't?”
“Hey,” Sean protested, “this is a gray area here.” But even to Sean's ears that sounded lame.
“I call that a double standard, don't you Libby?” Bernie said.
“Absolutely,” Libby agreed.
“But what I'm doing isn't dangerous,” Sean objected as Bernie folded her arms across her chest and stared at her father.
He stared back and was mortified when he turned away first. That never would have happened five years ago. Five years ago he could have stared down anyone on his force.
“I tell you what,” Bernie said. “How about we compromise? We'll be a little more careful and you'll be a little less protective?”
“Seems fair,” Sean finally said although he wondered about how Bernie would define the concept of more careful. But this did not seem the time to engage in that discussion.
Bernie and Libby were both hugging him when he heard the side door open downstairs. A “hello” floated up the stairs.
Sean looked at his daughters and they looked back at him.
“Oh no,” he whispered. “It's the Walker sisters.”
Chapter 26
A
s Bernie watched Eunice and Gertrude settle themselves in the armchairs across from her father she thought that this time, in her humble opinion, they'd gone too far with the color thing. The two of them were sporting flaming orange hair tipped with yellow, purple dresses, and red Converse high top sneakers. It was not a pretty sight.
s Bernie watched Eunice and Gertrude settle themselves in the armchairs across from her father she thought that this time, in her humble opinion, they'd gone too far with the color thing. The two of them were sporting flaming orange hair tipped with yellow, purple dresses, and red Converse high top sneakers. It was not a pretty sight.
Maybe, Bernie thought, the English kings and queens knew what they were doing with their sumptuary laws. Maybe commoners shouldn't wear purple. Maybe they shouldn't have access to too many bright colors at once. Just looking at Eunice and Gertrude was causing her visual distress.
“So,” Gertrude said as she helped herself to one of the chocolate chip cookies Libby had brought up from downstairs. “I hope you don't mind us dropping by like this.”
“Not at all,” Bernie lied to cover for her father who couldn't seem to get those words out of his mouth.
“We were in the neighborhood,” Gertrude said.
Eunice reached for a chocolate chip cookie. “Which is why we decided to pop up. It seemed silly not to. Especially since we have an appointment down in the city tomorrow. These are wonderful my dear,” she said after she'd taken a bite.
“Indeed they are,” Gertrude said. “You're almost as good a baker as your mother.”
“She's better,” Sean said.
Bernie watched Libby give their dad a grateful smile.
Eunice dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I suppose you know best, although no one will ever equal Rose's lemon meringue pie. That was a work of art.”
Gertrude leaned forward. “But we haven't come to discuss Libby's baking.”
“Indeed not,” Eunice said. “We've come to find out how the case is proceeding.”
“Yes, we're most interested,” Gertrude said.
Both sisters looked at Sean expectantly. Like birds looking at a big, fat, juicy worm, Bernie decided.
“Well,” her father began, “we are turning up some interesting potential leads. We've found that . . .”
Gertrude lifted up her hand palm out. “What we want to know is: Have you found Leeza's murderer or haven't you?”
Bernie jumped in. “If you let my dad finish, he was just trying to explainâ”
Eunice cut Bernie off. “Because we have.”
“You have?” Sean, Bernie, and Libby chorused.
“Yes,” both Eunice and Gertrude said together. “We believe it is Vladimir Meyers.”
“Jura's assistant?” Bernie asked.
Eunice and Gertrude nodded their heads vigorously.
“That's the one,” Gertrude said.
“But why suspect him?” Sean asked.
“He's not on our list,” Bernie said.
“Well he should be.” Eunice punctuated her remark with a bite of her cookie. “It has come to our attention that he had . . . ah . . . relations with Leeza after which he became consumed with jealousy.”
“Gee, whatever happened to casual sex,” Bernie interjected as her father shot her a warning glance.
“Casual sex as presently constituted is nothing more than the commodification of the female species,” Eunice snapped.
“Really?” Bernie said.
“Yes, really,” Eunice asserted. “If you read your Marx you would know this.”
“And how do you know about Meyers?” Sean asked the sisters before Bernie could reply.
“The cook's daughter told us.”
“How do you know the cook's daughter?” Sean asked.
Eunice drew herself up. “I told you we know everyone. She goes to school with one of our nieces. At the University of Pennsylvania.”
“No,” Gertrude corrected. “Pennsylvania State University.”
“I always get those confused,” Eunice said.
“Have you spoken to the cook directly?” Sean asked the sisters trying to get the conversation back on track.
They looked at each other.
“We haven't had the time,” Gertrude said. “We've been too busy learning how to make sculptures with a chainsaw.”
“Chainsaws?” Sean couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
“You're using chainsaws?”
“They're smaller now,” Eunice said. “Much easier to control.”
“I know what they are,” Sean replied.
“Good,” Eunice went on. “I'm glad you do, but rather than concerning yourself with our artistic endeavors you need to find proof that Vladimir Meyers murdered Leeza.”
“I thought you hired me to find out who killed Leeza.”
“We just told you who did,” Eunice snapped.
“Have you considered the fact that he might not have done it?”
“No. He did,” Gertrude said. “We're positive. And we want him brought to justice.”
“Because,” Eunice said, “if you don't get him, we will.”
“Meaning?” Bernie asked.
“Obviously meaning we will take care of the problem ourselves,” Gertrude told her.
“But you can't,” Bernie protested.
“Of course we can. In other circumstances we would invoke the justice system, but since the justice system in this country is controlled by the capitalist cabals . . .”
“Don't you mean cabal as in singular,” Bernie interjected.
Gertrude ignored her and continued on. “To wit, we as the proletariat have the right and the duty to perform this function.”
“And how would you do that?” Bernie asked feeling both horrified and fascinated at the same time.
“By any means necessary,” Eunice said.
She stood. Gertrude followed.
“We are leaving for Tanzania at the end of the week,” Gertrude announced. “So we expect this matter to be resolved by then. If it isn't, we'll want our money back.”
“We will expect to hear from you,” Eunice said.
Bernie watched as the two women turned and marched down the stairs. “Tell me they're not thinking about doing what I think they're thinking about when they said they'd take care of the problem themselves?” she said to her father after she'd heard the door shut.
“That was quite a sentence,” Sean replied. “But yes, I think they might have been talking about killing him.”
“No they weren't,” Libby objected.
“Then what were they saying?” Sean demanded.
“That they'd take care of the problem.”
“And exactly how are they going to do that?” Sean asked when Libby didn't reply.
“Don't be silly,” Bernie protested. “Eunice and Gertrude couldn't hurt anyone.”
“Maybe,” Sean said. “But remember when they thought their neighbor had killed their cat and they rigged the door handle of his car so that he got a shock when he touched it? Or when they were going to make a bomb in their basement and blow up the bank to protest their loan policies towards minorities.”
Libby went over and got a cookie. “That was a long time ago,” she protested. “They were a little more . . . intense . . . then.”
“People don't change,” Sean replied.
He massaged his forehead. He should have known better than to have anything to do with the sisters. They were like Mary and her lamb, only wherever they went chaos followed.
Bernie got up and started pacing. “But the bomb didn't go off, and they shorted out the car.”
Sean looked up at his daughter. He wished she'd sit back down. Watching her was making his head worse.
“Okay,” he said. “So maybe this time they won't get fancy. They'll get real simple and decide to shoot this guy instead. They've won trophies for skeet shooting in case you've forgotten.”
“Shooting at a clay pigeon is different than shooting at a person,” Bernie retorted.
“With them you never know,” Sean said.
“You're just saying that because you don't like them,” Bernie protested.
“No,” Sean said. “I'm saying that because they're crazy, and you never know what a crazy person is going to do. That's what makes them dangerous.”
“Maybe he's right, Bernie,” Libby chimed in. “I mean what if they did do something awful.”
“They're not going to.”
“But what if they do?” Libby insisted.
Bernie moved her ring up and down her finger. “I suppose it wouldn't hurt to cover our bases,” she conceded. “What would you suggest?” she asked her dad.
Sean motioned for the phone. “I think it's time to call Clyde.”
Libby ate the rest of her cookie. “Why?”
“Hopefully,” Sean said, “he's going to make sure that Eunice and Gertrude don't hurt anyone or get hurt themselves.” Because calling the cops was out of the question. His dear, departed wife would never forgive him if he did.
Sean watched Clyde tuck into a piece of Libby's blueberry pie.
“You didn't have to come over,” he told his old friend. “We could have talked on the phone.”
“And miss the pie?” He patted his stomach. “After all I can't let this shrink down. That'd make my doctor too happy. So, Libby,” he gestured towards his plate. “What kind of thickener do you use in your pie?”
“Just a teaspoon of tapicoa. Otherwise the filling gets too gummy.”
“Couldn't agree more,” Clyde said as he took another bite. “My dear wife puts in five or six tablespoons of flour. Way too much.”
Sean took a taste. There was no denying it. The pie was stellar. In his opinion it was the pinch of cinnamon that made it.
“So?” he asked Clyde as he decided that Clyde ate faster than anyone else he knew. “What do you think?”
“About the sisters?”
“Well, I know what you think about the pie.”
Clyde put his fork down and dabbed the sides of his mouth with his napkin before speaking.
“Okay,” he began. “From what you tell me their comments could be interpreted as a threat. Is it a credible threat? It might be, but then in my experience lots of people make threats and most of them don't carry them out. And Eunice and Gertrude are always running off at the mouth about something or other. Of course they do have those rifles and they are good shots.”
“Very good shots,” Sean reiterated. “I think it's better to err on the side of caution in this case.”
Clyde drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “We're talking about covering the sisters for five days at the most, right?”
“That is correct,” Sean said.
“And then they'll be out of the country,” Bernie interjected, “so we don't have to worry about them anymore.”
Clyde nodded. “The problem as I see it is manpower. I can put in a couple of hours trailing around after them and so can a couple of my friends, but they're gonna be times when I can't get anyone on them. Although we are talking about two senior citizens here. They can't be doing too much.”
“You'd be surprised what they can do if they put their mind to it,” Sean noted.
What had Rose once called them in a moment of absolute exasperation? It had been something like havoc and woe, hadn't it?
“What about using Marvin as a fill-in,” Bernie suggested. “Unless we have something like a typhoid epidemic he usually has some spare time on his hands.”
The last time he was in a car with Marvin flashed through Sean's mind.
“Why don't we hold him in reserve,” he suggested.
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