Coffee & Crime (45 page)

The video ended but we continued to stare at the screen in stunned silence.

Eric closed the laptop and pushed away from the table. "Those are some cold bitches."

Zelda grasped my arm and said, "Was George still alive when they left him there?"

The question felt like a stab to the chest and I burst into tears. Ted put his arms around me and held me as I cried. "Poor George. He was terrified."

But Joe had fire in his eyes and clapped his hands together. "The way I see it. We can all cry in our beers, or get George some good old fashioned justice. All eyes turned to him. "Don't look so glum y'all. We got her. Let’s put the package together with a big ol’ red bow and pay a visit to the D.A."

"What about Farmer? How does he figure into all this shit?" Zelda asked.

"Well, Miss Zelda, that's a question for another day. For the time being, we got some fine evidence against Lily and Jake." He drew his silver eyebrows into a vee. "Ain't that good enough for you? Lily and Jake up to their asses in alligators?"

Assistant D.A. Landis Pembroke had the freckled fair skin of a natural red head. But her pinched expression and shapeless clothes screamed more prize fighter than comely Irish farm girl.

Zelda and I sat with Dan Parker on one side of the mahogany conference table with Pembroke opposite us. We waited while she took her time going through all the evidence and viewing the videos of George's final moments.

Pembroke looked up, sighed and tapped her pen against a yellow legal pad. "I have concerns."

Making no effort to hide his sarcasm Dan said, "Course you do."

Pembroke arched an unwaxed eyebrow at him. "Chain of custody, chief amongst them."

Dan tapped a finger on the thick file folder. "You've got the affidavits, duly notarized —names, addresses and phone numbers of everyone involved. And the evidence. What more do you want?"

Pembroke eyed us like we couldn't be trusted. "They'll all testify? If I need them?"

"As agreed earlier. They'll all testify if needed." Dan rapped the table lightly with his knuckles. "Landi darlin', I know you like being a hard-ass for the peanut gallery, but we're on the same side here. For once. Why not take your prize and leave the fair with a smile on your face?"

Landis didn't break her steely gaze, but a sparkle in her eyes that made me think she was sweet on Dan.

Dan nodded toward me and Zelda. "These young ladies went to considerable lengths and subjected themselves to personal danger to deliver this information to your doorstep. They've withstood harassment, endless interviews and have had their reputations dragged through the mud. Yet, despite all that, they succeeded in unearthing some very compelling evidence. Had your own detectives, who didn't care to investigate the possibility of foul play, come to you with this, you'd be chomping at the bit. So, what's the belly aching all about?"

Pembroke tapped her unadorned fingernails on the stack of documents in front of her. "It's still chain of custody. If my cops provided the evidence, a defense attorney couldn't call them into question. But these two," she waved a dismissive hand, "are private citizens who had a vested interest in finding a killer. Among other complications."

"Are you kidding?" I tugged at Dan's coat sleeve. "Is she kidding? What vested interest?"

"The reward," Pembroke said without looking up
—
distracted by something she didn't share.

Zelda guffawed. "Right, the reward that Maggie Manston says she'll pay? Fat chance."

Pembroke looked down her short narrow nose at me. "There's also the matter of the inheritance."

I sprung to my feet and shook a fist at her. "I didn't know about that! And what difference does that make? There's nothing in the will that required me to find George's killer to get the inheritance!"

Dan put a gentle hand on my arm. "Scotti, please." I sighed at Dan, sat down in my chair and sulked. Dan squinted at Pembroke. "My clients came into possession of this evidence without breaking the law or violating privilege. Quit being such a hard-ass Landi."

Pembroke crossed her arms over her chest. "And if Mrs. Manston claims the briefcase was stolen?"

Dan shook his head. "The letter from George Manston to Scotti shows his intent was for her to have it and everything it contained. And as far as Maggie Manston is concerned, she insisted her husband was the victim of foul play and no one believed her. Except my clients." He patted my hand. "Not only does this evidence prove Mrs. Manston right, but it also delivers the killer to you, signed, sealed and delivered."

Pembroke chortled. "All right Clarence Darrow, you've made your point." She shrugged and swept the files into a banker box on the floor. "Truth be told, this case crosses with another and may never go to trial."

My radar went up and leaned across the table. "What? What other case?"

Pembroke shook her head. "That information is far above your pay grade Ms. Fitzgerald. I'd suggest that you be happy that for you and your merry band of men, this case is over. We'll take it from here." Pembroke stood, signaling the end of the interview. Dan nodded and we pushed back our chairs. She shook Dan's hand. "If we need them for deposition or testimony, we'll be in touch."

<<>>

Running into Maggie Manston, when we walked out of the building, was the last thing I expected. Yet there she was and we froze, like a couple of felons. Maggie nodded. "Good to see you." Then she went past us into the building without a backward glance.

Next up was Lloyd Sessions who followed a few steps behind Maggie. He paused and favored us with a brief smile. "Good afternoon ladies. How fortuitous that we should run into one another."

Zelda smirked. "Fortuitous, eh?"

Sessions nodded and withdrew a business card from his breast pocket. "There is a check waiting for you at my office. If you'll contact my office manager Mrs. Sloan, she'll make arrangements to get it to you."

I took the card from him and frowned. "A check for what?"

Sessions gave me a surprised smile. "Why the reward of course." He snapped his fingers, "Oh yes, you probably thought I meant the inheritance. Well, that is moving along too, but it will be several weeks before that matter is resolved."

Zelda let out a whoop. "We get the reward?"

Sessions nodded. "As I said, yes." He checked his watch then peered through the glass door into the lobby. "I apologize, but I must be going — but do call my office for the details. Goodbye." He pulled open the door and disappeared through it.

Zelda grinned so hard it must’ve hurt. "How do like that? Maggie is paying up."

Unimpressed, I nodded. "Color me surprised."

Giggling, she pinched me. "Lighten up! This is a hundred grand worth of halla-freaking-looyah!"

I rubbed the back of my neck and yawned. "Yeah, split five ways, then after taxes maybe five or six grand each." I sighed. "I guess we could all go on a cruise together."

Zelda's mouth became a gaping maw. "Split five ways? It was 60-40 with Joe."

I stared at her. "So Eric and Ted don't deserve a share of the money?" I swept out my arms. "After everything they did?"

Zelda frowned as the wheels turned in her head. "Crap."

Wary of anything that smacked of police authority, I led Zelda away from the building. "Can we please get out of here? I'm desperate to be cop-free." We double-timed it to the parking lot and ran straight into Daniels and Davis. Jumping back I said, "Just when you think you can escape Pasadena..."

Daniels' face lit up like he'd run into Santa Claus. "As I live and breathe, it's my two favorite waitresses slash crime fighters."

"Ex-waitresses," Zelda corrected him.

Daniels scrunched up his face. "Manny's has sucked since you two left. Any chance you're going back?"

Zelda put her hands on her hips and smirked. "Not in your lifetime."

I pulled Zelda toward the parking lot. "Okay, gotta go, bye-bye."

Daniels called out. "Hey Scotti!"

I didn't want to, but I stopped and turned around. "Yeah?"

"Lily's still out there. You two be careful. You hear me?"

I wanted to believe that Daniels gave a shit, but I didn't. "Whatever you say Daniels." I gave him a little salute. "And thanks for sticking by us when it really mattered."

Daniels lost the smile and glared. "Hey, that's not fair!"

I didn't have the time or interest to argue with Daniels about what was fair. We turned and walked away — Daniels and Davis were now another waitress's problem.

Zelda dropped me off at the house and sped away for a rendezvous with Eric. I walked through the gate with a jaunt in my step and smiled at the scent of the daffodils that had bloomed without my notice.

Unencumbered and feeling like myself again, life was full of possibilities. None of which involved murder, mayhem or jail sentences. Instead of cringing when Boomer dive-bombed me, I got down on the floor and played tug-a-chewie with him. For once, I wore him out, and he crawled into his little bed with a treat that he gnawed on until fell asleep.

I had so much energy and time to kill that I made a seven-layer chocolate cake and left it on the butcher-block for Zelda. No doubt, she and Eric would need some fuel by the time they were done celebrating.

After a short nap, I sunk into a bubble bath and stayed there until every muscle in my body was as soft and pliable as a plate of pasta. It felt sinful taking so much time to get ready for my date with Ted — but it was a special night. Tonight would just be about us.

I massaged lavender lotion into my skin from head to toe and chucked my cotton briefs for a lacey pair with a matching bra. My curls I coaxed into perfect ringlets that hung down my back and spilled over my shoulders. I carefully applied make-up to play up my eyes and cheek bones. And I eased into a snug blue jersey dress that liked my curves and set off my eyes. Blue crystal earrings caught the light and strappy heels showed off my ruby painted toenails.

Studying my reflection in the mirror, I felt like one of those dowdy housewives who'd gotten a free makeover. I looked good. I looked damn good. "Welcome back to the living, Scotti Fitzgerald." I checked myself front and back. No bags under the eyes. No hairy legs. No drooping hems or panty lines. Sometimes, things simply come together.

Tossing on a pashmina, I stepped out of the house. The moon hung full and yellow in a black starry sky. The rain was gone and left a crisp sense of spring in the evening air —offering the scent of night blooming jasmine as proof of a new season. Everything was right with the world again and I let out a blissful sigh.

Headlights flashed through the open gate and a limo pulled in, stopping in front of me. The fresh-faced driver stepped out and smiled. "Ms. Fitzgerald?" I nodded. He opened the rear door. "Mr. Jordan is waiting."

<<>>

The driver opened the door and offered a hand. Smiling, he said, "Have a lovely evening." Then he pointed to the walkway.

I turned to the house and saw that single long-stemmed roses led the way up to the front door. I bent and picked up each one as I came to it, like you collect seashells as you walk the beach. With an armful of roses, I arrived at the front door with a happy heart.

When I raised my hand to knock, the door opened and Ted grinned back at me. "Hi Gorgeous." He wore a tailored black suit, white shirt, open at the throat, and a rose on his lapel. "I'm so glad to see you."

"The roses are beautiful."

His eyes caressed my body. "God, you're beautiful." Offering his arm he said, "Dinner for two?"

He led me into the living room, lit by candles in glass goblets and a fire crackling at the hearth. A table was set up by the fireplace with linen tablecloth, flatware and silver domed plates. An ice bucket held a bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes, stems up. Handsome in the flickering light, Ted smiled at me.

I blushed and smiled back. "Moonlight, champagne and roses. You're a man of your word Ted Jordan."

He tipped up my chin and kissed me softly. Pulling out a chair he said, "Hungry?" He snapped opened the napkin and lay it across my lap. In a terrible English accent he said, "I've prepared a delicious meal for you, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy." He lifted the silver dome from my dish with a flourish. "Ta-da!"

I snorted and laughed. "Pizza with everything. How did you know?"

Though I've never had pizza with champagne, it turned out to be a winning combination. And our conversation didn’t involve clues, motives or murders. No arguments. No disagreements. Just two people on a proper date talking in earnest. Ted told me about his family — five brothers, no sisters and a very strong mother. I told him about foster life — me and Zelda railing against the system.

We played footsie. A second bottle of champagne was opened with a pop and a fizzle. We giggled like teenagers. He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. I kicked off my shoes and put my foot in his lap.

I giggled. "Did you just gasp?"

"That's one frisky little foot you've got there."

I teased my foot along the inside of his thigh. "Yes, and it has a mind of its own."