GUNNED (16 page)

The questions were mounting. Now all I had to do was find the answers.

I needed to speak with Christine again, but Martha Aiello’s campaign headquarters was closer. I fed more hard-earned money into the meter and decided to walk the five or six blocks. The exercise would do me good and give me some time to think. I found it interesting that Sheldon Spiegel went back to Christine’s apartment, and I was fairly certain I knew why. Just as Annie and I had done, Mr. Spiegel must have been shocked by the striking resemblance Christine had to Jackie. But according to Hunter, he left rather quickly, so had the man come to the same conclusion Annie and I had come to, which was that the resemblance, upon a second look, was only superficial? Or was Hunter lying.

I walked another block, and the more I thought about it, I realized that the timing was off. Mr. Spiegel had stopped by Christine’s on Friday afternoon, and even if he came back, and Christine or Hunter killed him, they couldn’t have done it then. Mr. Spiegel had shown up all over the place over the course of the next few days, including my office on the following Monday. But I liked it. It gave them time to formulate a plan, either alone or together, on how exactly they would get rid of Mr. Spiegel.

And what about Christine’s parents? They also said the man left when they asked him to, but Sheldon Spiegel felt he was on to something with Christine. I was sure of it. Before Annie and I had left the Jamison home, Christine’s mother had given me her business card. She wanted me to let her know the outcome of the whole mess if for no other reason than to confirm her adoption secret was secure. Maybe if I talked to her without her husband around, I might get some additional information.

There were three people working the phones when I arrived at Martha Aiello’s campaign headquarters, but none of them looked like the expertly coiffed and exquisitely dressed Martha Aiello I had seen on numerous TV ads.

“No, she’s not here right now,” a somewhat harried young woman I assumed was a volunteer said.  “She had a couple of meetings this morning, but she should be back about one-thirty.” The girl didn’t look too happy at the prospect of Ms. Aiello’s imminent return.

I thanked her and walked back to my car. Hopefully Christine was working from home today and wasn’t out walking Norman.

I parked my car a couple of blocks away from Christine’s apartment, and as I rounded the corner, I saw a woman a good block ahead of me walking a dog, which was either Norman or his twin. I had on black flats with just a slight heel. I figured I could run and catch up with her. My rheumatoid arthritis didn’t seem to bother my everyday activities, and I still continued going to the gym and taking power walks in the evening, but I knew running was going to cause me some serious pain later in the day. I made a mental note to take a couple of ibuprofen after I talked with Christine.

Christine Jamison obviously heard someone approaching because just as I reached her she whirled around with a can of pepper spray in her right hand, while holding on to a more ferocious Norman than I had first met.

“Oh, jeez, it’s you. I should have known.”

She pocketed the pepper spray somewhat reluctantly, I felt, but at least it was no longer in her hand. Then she admonished Norman for his lack of manners and he promptly jumped up on me.

“I take it Hunter called you,” I said, as I fell in step with Christine and Norman.

“He did.”

“Then you know why I’m here. Why did you lie?”

“Because if you knew that Mr. Spiegel came back and that he and Hunter had words, well, I didn’t want you running to the cops, whom, by the way, I’ve already spoken to this morning, so now they know everything, too. If any of this gets back to Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth it will probably be the end of my engagement. They’re already aghast at the prospect of their son marrying the daughter of blue color workers.” Christine yanked on Norman’s leash bringing him back from his snooping into a recently planted flower bed in front of a house at the corner.

“Do they really care about such things?” I had heard it all from Hunter less than an hour ago, but I just couldn’t fathom that in this day and age, people still held with such narrow-minded views.

Christine stopped and looked at me with an expression I can only describe as contempt. “Hell yes! They’ve been trying to break us up pretty much since they first met me. They think Hunter is much too good for me.”

I had to wonder if Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth knew about their son’s brush with the law, which according to Shirley, didn’t seem to go anywhere. Either the parents had the complaint squashed or Hunter’s friend relented and dropped the charges.

“So the second time Mr. Spiegel showed up, Hunter had a few words with him and he left?”

“Exactly. Hunter told him to knock it off and stay away. And that was it. He left and I never heard from him again.”

Of course, Hunter had called Christine the second I left his office so they had time to get their story straight. Or maybe it was the truth. I guess I could knock on doors and find out if any of the neighbors heard any heated arguments that ended with a shot to the head, but I figured the police would get around to doing that.

“Christine, do you own a gun?”

“No.”

I would have believed her if there hadn’t been an almost imperceptible hesitation to her answer, which made me think that was one thing she didn’t admit to the police. And if I was a betting sort of a girl, I would venture a guess that the gun she did have was given to her by none other than Hunter. Much as I hated giving my husband information without the prospect of getting any in return, I would be letting John know about the possibility of a gun as soon as I left her.

I walked with her a bit longer, but could tell I wouldn’t get any more information out of her. To my surprise I found myself in front of my car.

“Well, this is me. Thanks for talking to me again,” I said with my most engaging smile and a firm handshake. I wanted to make sure I left her with the impression that her lie about the gun was believed and that our dealings together were over, because the last thing I wanted her to do next was to run home and toss the gun out.

I headed back to the campaign headquarters, but it was still too early to catch Martha Aiello. I found a diner and pulled into their tiny lot. I hadn’t eaten since the salami at Meme’s and I needed something in my stomach before I took some pain medication.

I sat at a tiny booth by the window and took out my cell phone. I didn’t relish the thought of talking to my husband and having him lecture me, which we both knew would do no good but as a police detective he felt compelled to do, but still, I was obligated to let him know that Christine warranted another visit.

Luck was on my side and I got his voice mail. I left a message about the possibility of the woman having a gun, and then I turned the phone off. I didn’t want him returning my call. If he was going to be mad, better it be at home tonight with our guests as witnesses.

A young, preppy-looking woman took my order and then returned with a small pot of tea. I took my iPad from my purse and opened an app where I could write down my thoughts. I sat there looking out the window, watching students and people in business suits rush by.

A few hours ago I felt I had a good suspect in Andrea. Not only was she upset with her father, so much so that she wouldn’t even talk with him anymore, but then I found out that she was to inherit land and other assets. It wasn’t that I thought she currently needed any of these things, but more that I felt she didn’t want to share. If it turned out that Sheldon Spiegel found his biological daughter, wouldn’t it also stand that he found his rightful heir? And by finding another daughter, would that negate all of Andrea’s claims, or would she have to split the inheritance with an interloper? Andrea had been an only child all her life, and while she didn’t strike me as especially spoiled, I had a feeling she wouldn’t be good at dividing the goods with a stranger.

My problem was, now I had another viable suspect—two, actually—in Christine Jamison and Hunter Wentworth. It was just like I told Annie; you can’t get caught up in your suspects. I initially thought of Christine as an intelligent young woman with a very cute dog. Now I saw her as an intelligent young woman with a gun and a future to protect. My suspicions of Hunter were less. Sure, he didn’t want his parents to find out about the possibility of Christine being Jewish, but really? Was that anything to kill over? Then I had another thought. Maybe they did it together? Maybe Christine called Hunter on Tuesday and then they lured Mr. Spiegel back with the promise of taking a DNA test. Once he arrived back at the apartment they killed him together, piled him into either Christine’s or Hunter’s car, and then dumped the body at the beach. Or maybe they asked him to meet them someplace else. I liked this scenario better. Less to clean up at home and no interruptions from pesky neighbors wondering what all the noise was about. Gun shots did tend to get people’s attention.

Maybe I should call John back and ask him to trace any calls made by Christine? No one had mentioned Sheldon Spiegel giving them a contact number, but the man must have in case any of the women he called on decided to have a DNA test.

I took out my phone again and pulled the business card for Le Petit Bonbon from my wallet. I punched in the number and Mandy Aiello answered the phone. I confirmed with her that she had received a phone number, not a card, but Mr. Spiegel had given her his number in case she wanted to talk further. I thanked her and hung up. Perfect. So it was conceivable that Christine Jamison had also been given his phone number.

The waitress placed a bowl of vegetable soup in front of me with a basket of warm cornbread and left me to enjoy my lunch. While I waited for the soup to cool, I jotted down a few more notes. I also tried to formulate my approach to Martha Aiello. She presented a formidable presence on TV, and I didn’t see any reason why she wouldn’t be just as scary in person. And besides, even her daughter found her an intimidating force.

I returned to my meal and in no time had finished the soup and two pieces of bread. I paid my check, left a generous tip, and headed back to the office where hopefully Mrs. Aiello would now be sitting behind her desk.

The campaign headquarters was not as busy as it had been earlier. There were only two people working the phones. Maybe the others were at lunch. In the back was an office with an open door. I could see that a light was on, but couldn’t tell if anyone was in there.

“Can I help you with something?” a young man in a white shirt and navy blue tie asked me.

“Yes, I’d like to speak with Martha Aiello. It’s a personal matter.”

He looked unsure as to what to do, and I got the impression Martha didn’t like being interrupted.

“It’s about her daughter if that would help?”

The young man sighed. “Probably not, but I’ll tell her you’re here anyway. She’s got an appointment in half an hour, so I’m not sure she’ll see you. And your name?”

I gave him my name and a moment later he came back and told me I could go on through.

Martha Aiello sat behind a desk, her red hair perfectly coiffed and chunky gold jewelry expertly accenting her green power suit. She looked up as I came in, but didn’t stand and didn’t introduce herself.

“What has my daughter done now?”

“Nothing, as far as I know, accept make some of the best chocolate I’ve ever tasted. And her macarons are to die for. I imagine she helps you out a lot with catering your various events,” I said by way of a dig. “Her heavenly concoctions must be a major draw with your constituents.” Maybe I could drum up some business for the young entrepreneur.

Mrs. Aiello let the praise for her daughter’s business go unnoticed. “So why are you here, Ms.?”

“Harris. Alex Harris.” She didn’t offer me a seat, but I took one anyway. “I met her on Saturday at her delightful shop. I’m looking into Mr. Sheldon Spiegel’s death.”

It was the first time Martha Aiello’s perfectly poised, more than likely botoxed face, lost its composure.

“Are you with the police?”

“No. Not exactly.” I told her the story of how Mr. Spiegel had shown up at my office, and how Millie was one of the women he thought might be his daughter. I explained to Mrs. Aiello how upsetting it all was for Millie and that I was trying to get to the bottom of things for her.

“I know Mr. Spiegel talked with your daughter, and I was wondering if he spoke with you as well?”

Martha tapped a perfectly lacquered red nail on the desk. I figured I was about to be asked to leave, but instead she started talking.

“As a matter of fact he did. He caught me here at my office on, let’s see, it must have been last Monday. I was heading off to a meeting and didn’t have a lot of time for him, but I made it perfectly clear that he was totally mistaken. Mandy is my daughter. Has anyone ever told you that you’d look much better with a proper hair cut? I could recommend someone if you’d like.”

What? I was momentarily taken off guard by her comment. I self-consciously touched my hair. It was the bane of my existence. It was thin and fine, and it caused me great anxiety on more than one occasion, but in the last couple of years, with a haircut I thought was becoming and the addition of some highlights, my hair and I had come to terms with each other.

“And your eyebrows could use a bit of filling in. You might want to consider accessorizing your wardrobe a bit as well. Some well-placed pieces would do your look a world of good.”

I was trying to think of a comeback when the phone buzzed. Mrs. Aiello picked up the phone and told them she would call them back in a few minutes.

“Well, thanks for the advice,” I muttered. “So you’re sure there’s no basis for Mr. Spiegel’s suspicions?”

“Of course not. The man was obviously having problems with his daughter. I can sympathize with him on that account. Daughters are, well, daunting. Or maybe he was having a mid-life crisis. Who knows. He looked to be about that age when men go crazy. A softer highlight, maybe more of a red tone, would be more becoming with your skin color than the blond you have now. And I think you need to adjust your makeup base. The color’s not blending well.”