Coffee & Crime (21 page)

I raised my eyebrows. "Do we need a hacker?"

Eric's grin transformed his face from forgettable to boyishly cute. "We won't be busting into the Pentagon's database
—
more like breaking password codes. Kid stuff." His dark eyes zeroed in on Zelda. "Breaking the codes on that flash-drive and phone will be a piece of cake."

Zelda was just as focused on Eric as he was on her. "Sounds great."

He gave Zelda one last grin with an ample helping of dimples, then shuffled back to his office. "See you later."

Joe pushed back his chair and grinned. "All righty ladies, let's make hay while the sun's a-shining."

Joe went through everything we brought him and made a task list. The list broke down into three categories: interviews, documents and computer tasks. Zelda and I would handle most of the interviews; Eric would see to the computer files, searches and all things digital; and Joe would track down the documentation, like the death certificate, the will, and background checks. He would also use his considerable connections to loosen lips if possible, analyze evidence and information and run point on the investigation. Zelda and I could’ve protested but considering he was a homicide detective in his native state of Mississippi for twenty-five years and we were waitresses, it seemed pointless.

The one interview Joe didn't think we could pull off was with James Cavender, the private detective whose name and number we found in George's calendar. Since Cavender was a peer, Joe knew the right approach to take
—
detective to detective. He would do the talking and we'd listen and learn. "Folks don't like you to ask things direct. You gotta use a little finesse and make sure that no matter what you ask, the person don't lose face."

Cavender's agency was in a one-story office on Walnut Street in Pasadena. The brown bungalow could've been mistaken for a single dwelling home if not for the modest sign above the door. Joe eased the Lincoln into a parking spot in front of the building and switched off the engine. "You understand we ain't gonna get him to tell us much?"

Zelda leaned over from the backseat. "Then why are we here?"

"Because he might slip up and tell us more than he means to." Joe winked. "Whatever he tells us will be more than we know now. You'll see that private detecting is mostly about chasing down details and then connecting the dots."

I appreciated Joe’s candor but connecting dots to solve a murder sounded tedious and impossible. Still, he was the professional so I accepted that he knew what he was doing.

We got out of the car and followed Joe into Cavender's office. The space was somber and done in shades of brown. Simple furniture with no extras
—
not even a potted plant. A reception desk near the door was unmanned and a coffee machine gurgled as it brewed a pot. A voice called out from an inner office, "I'll be right with you." I heard the muffled sounds of a one-sided conversation and assumed that Cavender was finishing a phone call. The conversation stopped and soft footsteps moved toward us. A short, wiry man with thinning hair and clear brown eyes stepped into the reception area and smiled. Unlike the grizzled and alcoholic private detectives of fiction, he looked fit and cheerful. He held out his hand to Joe. "Mr. Enders? Jim Cavender."

Joe exchanged a firm handshake with Cavender, then introduced us as his associates.

Cavender offered a brief nod and smile, then gestured toward the back office. "Come on back."

We followed him down a short hallway, past a washroom on the right and entered a small office to the left. Cavender's office had the same design and somber color scheme as the front office and I assumed it was intentional. Low-key, subtle, and neutral
—
all characteristics a private detective needed for success.

Cavender invited us to sit in the visitor chairs as he took a seat behind his desk. "Can I get anybody coffee or water?"

"No thanks," Joe said.

Cavender cleared his throat and consulted a legal pad on his desk. "What can I do for you Mr. Enders?"

"I was hoping you'd talk to us about George Manston."

Cavender rose in his seat as though unexpectedly goosed. "George Manston? I'm not sure I understand. I thought this was about a case."

Joe angled sideways in his chair and put on his homey, I'm-a-good-old-county-boy smile. "I expect you heard about George passing a few days ago?"

Cavender nodded. "I was sorry to hear the news."

"As were most
—
from all accounts George was a good man."

Cavender nodded. "Yes, he was."

Joe mirrored Cavender’s body language and nodded. "And did you also hear that the widow believes foul play was involved?"

Cavender creased a brow and pursed his lips. "And the police?"

Joe rested an elbow on Cavender's desk. "Case is closed far as they're concerned."

Cavender raised his eyebrows.

"But we're looking into things for the widow."

Cavender frowned. "Maggie Manston hired you?"

Joe pulled George's calendar out of his pocket, slid it across the desk to Cavender and pointed to an entry. "During our investigation, your name came up." He held Cavender's gaze. "Mr. Manston had an appointment with you a few days before he died."

Cavender's eyes flitted to the calendar, then back to Joe. "Matter of fact, your name appears in this here calendar an awful lot. Which leads me to believe that old George had you looking into something of a sensitive nature for him.” He grinned at Cavender. "Unless you were hunting buddies?"

Cavender's chair squeaked as he fidgeted. "Definitely not hunting buddies. However..."

"Being a former homicide detective for the great state of Mississippi and currently being a private detective, I understand there's client confidentiality issues. So rather than asking you outright what you was doing for George, maybe I could give you a narrative?"

A small smiled teased the corners of Cavender’s mouth. "Narrative?"

Joe nodded. "That's right. If I'm off in the swamp without my waders you tell me to get a map. If I'm on the money maybe you could suggest I remain dedicated to my plan?"

Cavender tapped a pen on his desktop as he considered Joe's proposition. He sipped his coffee, glanced at the calendar, then nodded. "Okay Mr. Enders, I don't suppose it'll do any harm to hear your narrative."

Joe slapped the desktop lightly and grinned. "I'm thinking that George was edgy the last week of his life. He checked on his business insurance policy, got some sorta lab results, consulted with his business lawyer and you."

Cavender nodded but gave nothing away.

"Something was sticking in the man's craw. Something was weighing heavy on his mind."

Joe slid George's calendar across the desk toward him and put it back in his pocket. "We know he was about to try a medical malpractice case that would likely end up with a multi-million dollar judgment. Could be he was a might nervous since his partner usually did the litigating. Then again, old George had been at this lawyering thing for a while. So even if he wasn't counting on being the star prosecutor, I expect he coulda handled it fine."

Cavender rocked back in his chair and settled in to listen to Joe as he cobbled the facts together to tell a compelling story.

"And bringing a new daughter into the family wasn't smooth sailing for nobody. I expect there was lots of confusion and a passel of resentment too. Poor George probably didn't know if he was coming or going. I'm sure he wanted to believe it was for real but being the pragmatic fellow he was, George thought he ought to make sure first."

He grinned and pointed at Cavender. "And that's where you come in, Mr. Cavender. George hired you to do a background check on Lily. To verify that her story was right and truthful. Naturally, paternity would be part of that and so that's where the lab tests come in. And since George was a man of considerable wealth, his lawyer was consulted about wills and such." Joe paused and held Cavender's gaze for a moment. "How's my road map looking so far?"

Quietly Cavender said, "I'd say your mapping skills are pretty good, Mr. Enders."

Joe's eyes slid around the small office. "I don't suppose I could get a peek at those lab results?"

"I don't suppose you could," Cavender agreed.

Joe took Cavender's response in stride and chuckled. "The only thing I ain't sure about is if George asked you to look into the partner or if he took that on himself." Joe paused for a reaction from Cavender but the man's expression never changed. "Or George might've wanted to keep that one close to his vest and take matters into his own hands when the time came. I expect, you probably had your hands full with the girl anyway."

"That's quite a story, Mr. Enders."

Joe nodded in agreement. "It sure is." He gave him the southern gentleman smile. "Have a mind to add anything to it?"

Cavender shook his head and smiled. "I'm afraid I'm not much of story teller."

Joe reached across the desk and shook Cavender's hand. "In that case, I thank you for your time." Joe got to his feet and told us with a look to do the same.

"My pleasure," Cavender said. "Best of luck in finding the right ending for your story."

He walked us to the door and sketched a final wave as we went out the door. When we were back in the Lincoln again, Zelda whooped. "That was awesome, Joe."

Joe looked at Zelda in the rear view mirror. "Why Miss Zelda, we've only just begun."

Joe drove us back to his office with instructions to go through the binder, start to finish. He was headed to the Hall of Records to dig up the death certificate and will. And he also had a pal in the Medical Examiner's office that might give him a peek at the autopsy report. "There's a list inside, waiting on you. So get to it."

Zelda pouted. "I thought we were going to talk suspects and bat theories around for a while."

Joe rolled his eyes. "We ain't nowhere near ready for that. Get to that list, and we'll get to other things in due time."

We stood on the sidewalk and watched the Lincoln roll down the hill and frowned. Then we turned and went up the walkway to Joe's office. "Lists? I feel like I'm at Harmony House on cleaning day."

I shrugged and opened the door. "He seems to know what he's doing."

Stepping inside, Eric greeted us with a grin. "I got something."

"What?"

"Come on." He led us into the back office. He dropped into his chair and tapped the keys of his keyboard. "I broke the password on the phone."

Zelda patted his back and her hand lingered longer than necessary. "That's great!"

We huddled behind him with our eyes on the monitor.

"Except the only thing on it is a video file."

I frowned. "He locked the phone to protect one video file. Of what?"

Eric nodded. "I know, weird, right?" He shrugged. "There are phone numbers too but the same ones from the calendar." He puckered his lips. "But the phone log is empty so we don't know when or how many times he called the numbers." He clicked his mouse. "Anyway, here's the vid."

The video showed George's office manager Peggy entering his office carrying a pink cardboard box. As she neared the camera, she went out of frame. When she stood up again the box was gone. Then she turned around, walked to the door and left. End of video.

Zelda frowned. "Why would he save this?"

"How did he film it without her knowing? I asked.

"Nanny cam," Eric said. "What I want to know is what's in the box?"

We ran the video frame by frame but that didn't reveal anything new. I remembered the photos I'd taken of George's office with my phone. I asked Eric to upload the pictures to his computer so we could get a better look.

Eric pointed to the monitor. "There. That clock is probably the cam."

I remembered the art deco clock on George's credenza. I'd assumed it was an antique like his desk. The spy shop near Sessions' office came to mind and I wondered if George had purchased his nanny cam there. If nothing else, this investigation was revealing a side to George I never knew existed.

"I'll bet there's a fridge in the credenza," Eric said. "That would explain what happened to the box."

I smacked my forehead. "It was pastries. That was a pastry box she was carrying."

Zelda patted the top of my head. "Excellent deduction Sherlock, now tell me why George had a nanny cam in his office."

Eric smirked. "Duh, security. He obviously didn't trust somebody. Maybe the cleaning crew was stealing his booze."

Zelda cringed and behind Eric’s back mouthed the word, ‘security’, at me. I shrugged.

I shook my head. "No, it's closer to home than that. His partner Jake would get my vote."

Zelda nodded. "Yeah Jake's a creep. But there aren't any videos of Jake, just one stupid video of Peggy putting goodies in the fridge. I'm sure George didn't put a nanny cam in his office to film that." She looked at Eric. "Don't nanny cams film non-stop? Shouldn't there be a bunch of videos?"

Eric smiled up at Zelda and spoke softly. "Nanny cams can do anything you want. It depends on how you set them up." Eric rolled his chair back from the desk and stood up. "You guys hungry? I think Joe's got doughnuts in the fridge."