Coffee & Crime (18 page)

Zelda grinned. "They're going to give you the money. What else could it be?"

I yawned and shivered. "If that’s true, I’ll buy you a lobster dinner tomorrow night." I tossed the letter on the butcher-block and went to the living room where the thermostat was. Then I turned up the thermostat and the blower kicked on pushing warm air into the room. "The bank officer called me today."

"So?" Zelda raised her eyebrows. I shook my head. Zelda slumped into the living room chair and sighed. "Maybe the bank turned you down because you're getting the money from George's estate."

"Fingers crossed." I hovered in front of the heater vent rubbing my hands. "Do you think Jake saw us? Yesterday?"

Zelda winced and made a face. "We would've heard something by now if he had, right?" She eyed the answering machine on the side table. "No messages. No cops. No broken down doors."

The knot in my stomach loosened a little. If we'd been caught on security footage, something would’ve happened by then. We'd dodged that bullet but there was always a chance another was on its way. "We should hide our extra copies. As a backup."

Zelda's head lolled toward me. "Where?"

I reached for the phone then dialed a number. "Some place no one would think to look."

Zelda scooted forward in her seat. "Where's that?"

"Hi Marge...I was wondering if you could drop by."

<<>>

Marge is close to six feet tall and loves walking shorts, golf shirts and Birkenstock sandals. Her salt and pepper hair has a touch of the crazies and always looks as though she just stepped out of wind tunnel. But her quick smile and curious, intelligent eyes make you feel at ease. We'd met her at a block party a couple of years before. She’d struck up a conversation with me about home invasions and it was from her that I learned about our communal gate. Until then I had no idea there was a gate under all that ivy. We agreed then to give each other access to the gate, in the event of an emergency. A casual "you watch my back and I'll watch yours" agreement. Since then, she’s attached herself to us as a kind of den mother and does things like buying padlocks and alerting us when there’s a problem in the neighborhood. She and her husband Irv, never had children, unless you count their Doberman Daisy, so she does tend to cluck over us a bit. We didn't mind, since neither of us ever had mothers who clucked over us
—
so it was a win-win relationship.

We sat at the butcher-block over cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee. In the center of the countertop I'd placed the manila envelope that contained our backup copies and keys but didn’t mention it.

Marge licked icing off her long fingers and eyed the envelope. "Scotti honey, these are the most yummy rolls. And I’ll tell you right now, I’m going to eat as many as you’ll let me."

I waved a hand at the plate of rolls, “Have at it, Marge. There’s more where those came from.”

Her gray eyes zeroed in on me. "Are you girls in some kind of trouble?"

I nodded and gave her a sad smile. "My ex boyfriend. He’s been watching the house, calling and hanging up, showing up at my work." I shrugged. "I’m kind of worried."

Marge took my hand and her face filled with concern. "He’s scaring you huh? Did you call the police, honey?"

"Nothing they can do," Zelda said. "Because he hasn't done anything yet."

Marge shook her head and frowned. "Cops ain't worth a shit these days, are they?"

"That's for sure."

I nudged the envelope toward her. "I was hoping you'd hang on to this for me."

Marge picked up the envelope and turned it over in her hands. "What's in it? Pictures of him stalking you and such?"

I nodded. "Something like that."

Zelda leaned in. "In case anything happens."

Marge eyes went wide. I squeezed her hand for reassurance. "We don't think it'll come to that. He's more of a creep than a crazy. Just a little insurance is all." Marge said nothing. I reached for the envelope. "But if you're not comfortable doing it I wouldn't want you to. And I'd completely understand."

Marge shook her head and pulled the envelope out of my hands. "No honey, I'll do it for you. I'm not afraid of some little piss ant who picks on women." She winked and grinned. "Dealt with worse than that in my day."

Zelda giggled. "Marge are you saying that you're a badass?"

Marge took a sip of coffee and polished off her third roll. "Former marine, my dear. Before it was all women's rights and politically correct. I know my way around a weapon and a choke hold." She mimed snapping a neck and winked. "I’ll hang on to this and keep my eye out for any suspicious characters." She reached for her fourth roll. "And if you gals want to learn how to handle a firearm I’d be happy to take you to the shooting range anytime you like."

Marge left with the envelope tucked under her arm and a plastic container of cinnamon rolls for Irv. "Don't you worry, honey. Me and my buddy Magnum will keep an eye on things." She wiggled her eyebrows. "And I don't mean Tom Selleck, if you get my drift." As she walked out the door she said, "You keep that gate locked, you hear?"

We saluted. "Yes ma'am!"

Marge cackled and gave us a backhanded wave.

I closed the door and turned to Zelda. "Marge? An ex Marine?"

Zelda snorted. "I bet she could kick some serious ass if she wanted." She nudged me toward the kitchen. "Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s do it."

I dug my heels in. "Do what?"

"Plow through all that stuff? We were going to call those numbers and see what we could find out. Did you really forget?"

I stretched and yawned. "All I want is a hot shower and my jammies. The world can go to hell until tomorrow."

"Bullshit."

I frowned at her. "No bullshit."

"You’re stalling." She squinted at me. "Or do you have another date with Teddy boy?"

"No date with Ted. Yes, I am tired. In case you forgot I didn’t get much sleep last night. Unlike some people who slept on the couch. And I have to see Sessions tomorrow. I just want the damn night off, okay?"

"Fine. Then I’ll make the calls myself."

"It’s too late to call." I pointed to the living room clock. "It’s after six."

Zelda stared at the clock and I went to my bedroom. She knocked on my door for a while then gave up. I was tired and I did want to sleep, but I was also stalling. I’d told Zelda I was on board but the truth was I prayed that after my meeting with Sessions I wouldn’t have to be on board. And I went to sleep hoping that the Manstons had agreed to the loan and I wouldn’t have to investigate George’s murder.

We parked in the same lot that I’d parked in when I met Sessions the week before and walked the three blocks to his office. The sun was shining for a change and you could almost believe that spring had arrived. But I knew that spring hadn’t arrived and that Sessions’ news wouldn’t be good either. If it had been, he could’ve just picked up the phone and called
—
instead he sent a certified letter. The only reason to send a certified letter is to document proof. If Sessions had to prove something then chances were, it wasn't something in my favor.

A few doors down from Sessions' building, I noticed a spy shop and stopped. "How cool is this?"

Zelda glanced at the display, unimpressed. "So?"

I stopped and ogled the window display. "So? Are you kidding? Look at all this cool surveillance stuff. Look at these nanny cams." I pulled out my phone and snapped pictures of the display. "They even have them in teddy bears!"

Zelda frowned. "You’re stalling again."

I glanced at her. "If we’re going to be investigators we might need some of this stuff. Ever think of that?"

Zelda pointed to her watch. "You’ve got five minutes to get to the lawyer’s office. Ever think of that?"

I frowned, remembering Sessions’ scolding secretary, and turned away from the shop. I sighed. "I don’t want to go in there."

Zelda nudged me along. "Tough shit. You have to."

"Why? So he can give me more bad news?"

She pushed through the front door. "Stop being so negative. Maybe it’s good news."

I rolled my eyes. "Have we gotten any good news since George died?"

Zelda pushed the elevator call button. "There’s always a first time."

We took the elevator up to the fifth floor and stepped into the quiet hallway. It was like the funeral home where we went to pay our last respects to George. Depressing.

Zelda held the letter in her hand and checked the suite numbers against the envelope. "Here it is." She opened the door but I stood there, reluctant to go in. "Scotti, come on."

I sighed and followed Zelda into the office. Sessions’ secretary was no more gracious than she’d been before but at least she didn’t scold us for being late. She ushered us directly into Sessions’ office, waved a careless hand at the visitor chairs, and closed the door when she left.

Reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, Sessions sat behind his highly polished desk and glanced at a document sitting in front of him. "All right then," he said briskly. "We'll dispense with the formalities and cut to the chase as they say." He smiled and cleared his throat. "As executor of Mr. Manston's estate it's my duty to inform you that he left you an inheritance."

Zelda pumped a fist in the air. "I knew it!"

I looked at Sessions. "An inheritance? This isn't about the loan agreement with George?"

Sessions smiled as though he held a great secret. "That may be moot at this point, Ms. Fitzgerald. Mr. Manston left you a large sum of money
—
one hundred thousand dollars to be exact."

I know that my jaw didn’t actually hit the floor, but it felt that way. "A hundred thousand dollars?" I whispered.

Sessions nodded. "Naturally, there will be a formal reading of the will later, which you may attend if you wish but..."

I could feel the catch struggling to reveal itself. "But you thought the family would prefer I don't attend?"

“It might be for the best, Ms. Fitzgerald." He gestured toward the door. "My secretary will give you the forms which you'll need to fill out and have notarized. Afterwards, we'll proceed with the next steps."

I waited for more but that was it
—
Sessions had dispatched his duty and he was finished with me. I shook my head and smirked. "Right. Thank you."

Zelda made a face. "That's it? She doesn't get the check now?"

Sessions shook his head. "No, not now."

Zelda put her elbows on Sessions' fancy desk. "When?"

Sessions frowned at Zelda's elbows. "That depends on whether the other beneficiaries contest the will. Mr. Manston has a large estate and several heirs, it could be complicated." He turned his watery blue eyes to me. "We discussed this previously in the matter of the loan, Ms. Fitzgerald. Correct?"

I nodded and stood. "The lord giveth and the lord taketh away."

Zelda stared at me but I hooked my head toward the door and she got out of her chair.

Sessions peered at me over his reading glasses. "Come again?"

I led Zelda toward the door. "Thank you for letting me know."

"Remember the forms on your way out. We'll be in touch, Ms. Fitzgerald."

"Sure you will," I muttered as I walked out of his office.

Sessions' secretary stood at her desk outside his office door and she handed me an envelope. The forms and instructions were inside, as well as a list of local notaries and an pre-addressed envelope that I could use to mail back the forms. I took the envelope and thanked the secretary then steered Zelda out of the office to the elevator.

Zelda stared at me. "See, I told you it was good. Why aren't you excited?"

My head spun with all the ways that life liked to screw with me. I pushed the elevator call button. "Why should I be excited?"

Zelda threw out her arms. "Because you've got the money for the diner, genius."

I held out my hands to her. "Do you see a check in my hands?"

Zelda puckered her lips. "Not now
—
but soon."

I pushed the call button again. "Soon? It could take years for George's estate to get through probate. Even if his family doesn't contest the will." I threw up my hands. "But they’ll contest it. I’ll be ninety before I ever get a check out of that estate. If I get one at all."

Zelda gaped. "Why would they contest it? It’s what George wanted. Besides, they’ve got boatloads of money. A hundred grand is nothing to them."

"Have you forgotten what Lauren said about rich folk and their stuff?" I pointed at her. "And you’re the one who’s always ranting about what a bitch Maggie is."

The elevator doors slid open and we stood face to face with Maggie Manston and Lily. I cringed, sure she’d heard me. But she brushed past me like I wasn’t there. I watched her walk down the hall to Sessions’ office and thought that her act was wearing thin. She knew exactly who I was.

Lily hung back and smiled like we were old friends. "Funny how we keep running into each other." She glanced down the hall toward Sessions' office. "We must be in for a big surprise."