A.R. Winters - Valerie Inkerman 01 - Don't Be a Stranger (4 page)

I woke up the next morning at seven and, for three hours, I plumped up cushions, vacuumed and mopped, all while keeping an ear out for the door.

There was a knock at ten o’clock. I jumped up immediately and opened it.

Jerry looked a little tired, and his hair was a bit messier than usual, but he gave me his normal, goofy grin. I, on the other hand, crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows. I felt like the crotchety old wife who, after an extremely late night, catches her alcoholic husband coming in.

True to crotchety-wife form, I heard myself saying, “You smell like booze.”

Jerry looked apologetic. “There were two drunks in the cell.”

I felt sorry for him immediately. “I’m glad you’re out.”

“Yeah, and I’m glad I can take a proper shower.”

He headed off toward the bathroom, and I headed into the kitchen. I made us two quick coffees, and I poured juice into two small glasses. I’d had some cereal earlier, and I wasn’t sure how hungry Jerry was.

Because we were often both home during the day, and because he’s a good cook and a sweet guy, Jerry sometimes makes me breakfast. He’s made me pancakes, and bacon and eggs, and French toast, and scrambled eggs. I figured it was time to return the favor.

When Jerry stepped out of the shower, the table was all laid out.

“Oooh, fancy,” he said, sitting down.

“Well, I tried. The coffee’s gone a bit cold, I think.”

“The bread and jam makes up for it.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” I said defensively.

Ok, so the best I’d come up with was bread, a jar of strawberry jam that seemed only a year old, some milk, and two packets of cereal. I could’ve boiled an egg or two but, like I said, I wasn’t sure how hungry Jerry would be.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said. “And I do appreciate the thought.”

I let him eat quietly for a few seconds. Well, relatively quietly, considering that I’ve never seen him have any table manners at home. When he dug up a big tablespoon of jam and began licking it straight, I said, “You’ve had enough food. Now spill.”

“Not much to spill.”

“
You
have a
lawyer
? Like, a lawyer who just sits around all day doing nothing, just waiting to hear from you?”

Jerry sighed. “He’s not my lawyer. He’s my dad’s.”

“So your dad has a lawyer just sitting around?”

Jerry shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I’m sure he’s got work. I suppose he does contracts and liens and all those lawyer-y kind of stuff.”

“But essentially, he’s at your beck and call.”

“We-ell. I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“And
why
does your dad have a lawyer?”

“He’s kind of got a, he’s uh….” Jerry’s words trailed off into incoherent mutters.

I put one hand behind my ear and pushed it forward like a trumpet. “Can’t hear you.”

“Uh.” Jerry took a deep breath. “My dad’s got this… media company.”

I frowned. “I thought your dad lived down in Florida. That’s what you told me.”

He put on an earnest, placating face. “Sure, sure. And he does. He’s retired. But, um, someone else runs the business and sometimes Dad Skypes and sometimes he flies down and, um…” He stared at my expression. “You think I should’ve told you this earlier?”

“Of course you should’ve told me this earlier! So, not only am I totally broke, but my roommate is a secret millionaire!”

“Hey, that’s not true! I’m not a millionaire! I’ve got no money!”

“Just your dad.”

“Exactly. And he doesn’t even want to give me any.” Jerry’s face clouded over. “He’s all disappointed in me and stuff. Thinks being an actor is superficial. Do I seem superficial to you?”

I looked at Jerry and wondered what he thought superficial meant.

I said diplomatically, “You seem like a nice guy.”

“Exactly! Thank you!”

I didn’t say anything for a few moments, and Jerry finished his juice. “So,” I said, taking a sip of my stone-cold coffee and wondering if I should chuck it down the sink or not, “what happened down at the station?”

“Not much. They booked me. Then my lawyer – Roger – came, and they asked me some questions. All the same things. And then Roger posted bail for me, and here I am.”

“What did they ask you?”

“How did I know Esme, what were we talking about at the party, what was I doing?”

“And that woman – the… uh – closet woman. She’s denying everything? Still?”

“Yeah. Hey, it’s not like I don’t understand.”

I felt my annoyance bubbling up again. “Understand what? There’s nothing
to
understand. She’s hanging you out to dry.”

“She needs to stay married and she can’t afford to get divorced.”

I snorted. We were silent for a few minutes and then I said, “So, if she doesn’t say she was with you the whole time, then… Is it looking pretty bad?”

“They found my prints all over her body. I told them I was trying to check her pulse and then I wanted to give her mouth-to-mouth, but they don’t believe me.”

I pursed my lips unhappily and Jerry said, “Hey.
You
believe me, right?”

I had no reason not to. On the other hand, Detective Hartley was right – I’d known him for only a little while, and maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.

To hell with her, I decided. “Of course I believe you, Jerry.”

“Yeah, well. That’s great.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Anyway. I guess I should, like, fix my hair and change into something, um, better.”

“Are you going out?”

“No. My dad’s coming over.”

“From Florida?”

“Yeah. Just to tell me how disappointed in me he is, in person.”

Jerry looked so glum, I almost laughed. The thought of being accused of murder hadn’t made him this sad. His dad must be quite something.

I heard the buzzer, and then a man’s voice saying something. It was a little past eleven, and I had holed myself up in my room.

I had no intention of meeting Jerry’s dad. The man sounded scary and, quite frankly, I didn’t need any more disappointed parents in my life. I had two candy bars, a big bottle of water and a trashy romance novel with me. I figured they should tide me over until Jerry’s dad left, although the bottle of water did make me wonder about how I’d use the toilet. Who was I kidding – I’d hold it in. Or maybe I’d just suffer through thirst for an hour. Or two.

I hoped Jerry’s dad talked fast.

He did. Half an hour later, I’d finished both the candy bars and half the bottle of water. Thoughts of holding it in were making me need the bathroom even more.

There was a knock on my door.

I called out, “Yes?” and Jerry opened the door a fraction and poked his head around the gap.

“Hey.”

He gave me a wan smile and I grinned back. “Having a good talk?”

Maybe I could use this opportunity to nip out to the bathroom.

“Yeah, um, that’s the thing. My dad kind of wants to talk to you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He gave me a funny look. “You’ve got brown stuff on your t-shirt.”

“Oh, that’s just crumbs.” I stood up, and brushed them off. Damn, now I’d have to vacuum.

As though reading my mind, Jerry said, “Thanks for putting everything back in place after the cops left. D’you want me to vacuum up?”

I smiled. Was he the perfect roommate, or what?

Oh, right, other than the fact that he had been accused of murder. And now his disappointed father wanted to talk to me. Maybe his dad would blame
me
for leading Jerry into a life of crime. That was a reasonable accusation, as Jerry tended to be a little gullible, sometimes. And anyway, I told myself, how scary could the man be? I was an adult. I could deal with things in a grown-up manner. Right after I dashed to the bathroom.

When I entered the kitchen, there was a big, white-haired man sitting at the kitchen table. Our tiny table looked even tinier next to him, and I frowned. The man was eating one of my emergency ice cream bars and looked like a friendly, cuddly bear. I was about to turn around and yell at Jerry (who’d chosen, coward that he was, to hide out in his bedroom) that I couldn’t see his dad. On the other hand, we did have a stranger in the kitchen eating my Fudgesicles.

But then the man smiled and said, “Sorry about your ice-cream. Jerry tells me they’re your emergency stash, but I really needed a hit.”

I grinned; I liked him already.

And then he said, “They’re delicious. I’ll make sure I get you a new box before I leave.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to!”

I wondered how it was that Jerry had missed the Great Taste In Ice-cream gene that his dad clearly had. I pulled out a chair and as I sat down, I said, “Jerry said you wanted to speak to me.”

“Oh, yes. My son, the murderer.”

“He’s not really a murderer.”

“Only because he doesn’t have the brains for it.”

A snort of laughter escaped me, and then I quickly sealed my lips and forced myself to look serious. Mature and adult-like, that was me. “He’s a good kid, Mr. Spilatro.”

“Please, call me Kyle. And yeah, he is a good kid. Too bad he’s such a disappointment to me.” I was about to protest, when he added, “Not that I’m not proud of him, of course. He’s got guts, trying to follow his dream and all that. But tell me, do you really think he’ll have a career as an actor?”

I thought back to the last time he’d practiced for an audition-a.

“There. I knew it,” said Kyle.

I shook my head quickly. “No, no, I mean – maybe. Maybe he’ll make it.”

“Yeah, but in the meantime he goes and gets himself accused of murder.”

We looked at each other seriously.  “So he’s told you everything?”

“Yeah. He had to, after I got him free legal counsel and everything.”

I nodded. “Poor guy. It’s not his fault. He shouldn’t have tried to protect that bimbo.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

We looked at each other seriously and I said, “He’s a big softie. But I think – he
was
trying to do the right thing. In his own way.”

“But that hasn’t done
him
much good.”

Kyle finished his Fudgesicle and placed the stick carefully on a plate. “Anyway, as much fun as this is, I didn’t just want to chat with you about how hopeless my son is. Although, it
has
been fun.”

I smiled. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Jerry tells me you’re a PI.”

I shrugged modestly. “I’m trying to be, at least.”

“You worked with Leo Moskovitz.”

“Yes.” I tried to hide my surprise. Jerry didn’t know that. Which meant the only way for Kyle to know that was if he had done some sleuthing of his own.

“I’ve worked with Leo in the past, whenever I needed business contacts or future employees checked out. He’s a good man.”

“He is.”

“And he spoke highly of you.”

I smiled. There was no point asking Kyle why he’d called Leo, or when. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Plus, you seem to me like a smart young lady. We share the same opinion of my son, and obviously you’ve got great taste in desserts.”

“I can’t argue with you there.”

“And that’s why I’ve got absolutely no hesitation in hiring you.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Hiring me? To do what?”

“To investigate my son, of course.”

I frowned. “Isn’t that – pointless? We both know he didn’t do it.”

“Well, maybe not my son. But this Esme Lindl. And whoever killed her.”

“Ah.” Light was dawning.

“The evidence against Jerry seems pretty stiff. He’s put himself right there at the scene of the crime, he’s wiped out any alibi he might’ve had. He knew Esme from before the party, they were casual friends, so he’s got possible motive.”

“You sound like a sleuth yourself.”

“I’ve watched far too many cop shows.” He sighed and pulled a checkbook out of his pocket. “But I can’t just sit and watch this. I’m going to hire a professional.”

“Look. It’s not that I wouldn’t mind earning some money. Or doing some PI work. But I really care about Jerry.”

“As do I.”

“And he needs the skills of someone experienced.”

Kyle rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully. “That’s the thing.  I’d have hired Leo, but he’s too busy.
And
he recommended you. And since you’re concerned about Jerry, I know you’ll pull out all the stops to find something.”

“What’re you ho
ping I’ll find?”

“Maybe something to cast doubt on somebody else. Maybe you’ll find out something about Esme – maybe she had other enemies. I don’t know, really. Something that’ll sway a jury of his peers.”

“Right.”

I looked thoughtfully at the surface of my kitchen table. I was about to refuse the work and suggest that Kyle hire somebody who’d worked a murder case before, when he thrust a signed check before me.

“This is yours,” he said. When I saw the number, my heart skipped a beat. “It’s an advance, for incidentals. Find something within two weeks, and I’ll pay you double this amount as a bonus.”

Why two weeks, I thought? I didn’t want to ask him and look stupid, so I said, “Two weeks because… after that the case runs cold? The real killer has enough time to cover their tracks? It’s harder to uncover any new evidence?”

“You got it.”

I stared at the check again and did some math. The bonus he was offering would cover my next six months’ rent. Plus some groceries. I wouldn’t have to take on any more waitressing gigs. I could even take on pro bono PI cases and build up my portfolio of clients.

I sighed and looked into Kyle’s deep blue eyes. “You’re a hard man to say no to.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He stood up and offered me a big paw, which I shook.

“Jerry,” I yelled out over my shoulder. “Your father’s leaving. Come say goodbye.” I turned back and said in a normal voice, “It was nice meeting you, Kyle. I’ll do my best on the case.”

“I know you will.”

Jerry materialized at my side, and I watched as he walked his dad out. I heard their footsteps disappear towards the elevator, and I waited for Jerry to come back after Kyle had found a cab.

I needed a stiff drink, I thought hazily. Wasn’t that what all the tough PI’s did? Start off their cases with a stiff whiskey? Although, a cookie was more my style.

Yes, I decided. I needed a cookie. And I needed a coffee. And then I needed some facts, and somewhere to start this investigation.