Murder Under the Tree (13 page)

“What are you talking about...murder? That's another whole ballgame.”

Well, if there was reasonable suspicion that Nancy had murdered Les, he might not be her only victim. This seemed to come as a surprise to Viktor, though. “I don't know, I'm just asking questions.”

Viktor looked thoughtful. “There was another man Les mentioned that did die, but in his sleep. He was in his late eighties.”

It would be hard to prove anything there. Although it would be easy enough to kill an elderly person without leaving any traces. I decided to switch gears. “Did Les ever talk about his past?”

Viktor sniffed, then looked back at me. “Only that he was a foolish, crazy kid....like all of us. Did crazy things.”

“Such as?”

Viktor started rolling up his sandwich bag, not answering my question. What was he holding back?

“Was Les Hollings his real name?”

He looked at me and squinted. “Lady, why would you ask that?”

“I'm trying to help here. Trying to find out something, anything about him.” I looked Viktor right in the eye. “And I am having trouble finding any information at all on a ‘Les Hollings.’”

Viktor returned my gaze. “As far as I know, he was Les Hollings. Listen, if someone tried to kill Les, I want to find that out as much as you do. I want to cooperate. I'll look around his apartment again. See if I can find anything out.”

“You have the key to his apartment?”

“Of course I had his. He had mine.” His voice sounded angry. Loud. He paused then said softly, “Sorry. We had each other for such a short while. I don't know what I am going to do without him.”

I put my hand on his upper arm. “I am so sorry.”

“I did let the police in to look around the apartment already.”

The police? Maybe Police Chief Kirk
did
think this was more than an accidental death. I wouldn't mind taking a look myself. “Really?”

“His address book was in his apartment. They needed to know the contact information of his next-of-kin. The Home didn't have it.”

I lowered my head and sighed. “Oh.”

“We found his sister's phone number, actually his twin that he didn't see too often. After the police left, I called her and said I would start packing up his belongings.”

“Les had a twin?” I'll need to talk to her. “What's her name?”

“Melissa. She's coming to town the day after New Year's. Couldn't get here before that. That's when we'll have Les' burial. A small,
private
burial.”

Maybe I shouldn't ask this. “Can I call on you again?”

“Kay, I know you are trying to help. It might be more comfortable for both of us if you come to my apartment to talk more.”

“That'd be great. When?”

“How about tomorrow. I get off at five o'clock.”

“I'll be there at five thirty. What's your address?”

* * * *

When I came up the stairs into the lobby, Nancy stood at the lobby desk. I made a detour to avoid her. I looked at the directory and went down the hall to James Barnowski's apartment and knocked on his door. After waiting a good minute, I knocked again, waited, then left.

I went back through the lobby and decided to try Dr. Lee again. He was in his office talking to a woman. I knocked on the door.

“Sorry to bother you, Dr. Lee. I've come by a couple of times wanting to speak with you. Can I have a minute when you are finished here?”

“Come in now, Kay and meet our new resident nurse, Celine Winterberg.”

The blonde woman sitting in the chair turned around and stood up. “Please to meet you, Kay.”

Oh...my... gosh! Celine was the woman walking past the herbal shop with Robert Peterson the night I was painting with Deirdre. I closed my gaping mouth for a second, and said, “Nice to meet you.”

“Kay, Dr. Lee has spoken highly of you and told me that you tried to save Les. I only wish I had been at work that day.” Her smile showed concern.

We shook hands. She looked older close up than I thought she was.

Dr. Lee interjected, “Kay, what did you want to see me about?”

Still surprised about Celine, I had to think for a minute. “Oh...I just wanted to ask you why the food at Les' table wasn't saved as evidence, despite your request to do so.”

“I felt bad about that. After I spoke to Chief Kirk, Nancy called me into her office. She had questions regarding the report she was making on Les' death. Before I left, as you said, I told the kitchen staff to be sure and have the food packaged up. When I returned, I learned it had been thrown into the garbage with the rest of the food. Let me tell you, the Chief of Police was angry that protocol wasn't followed.”

Celine put her hand on Dr. Lee's shoulder. “Don't feel bad, Mark. It was accidental.”

Accidental? The woman who was out with Robert Peterson at midnight and now touching Dr. Lee’s shoulder in a gesture that seemed uncomfortably intimate, was saying it was accidental, as if she had been there and knew what she was talking about! Who was this woman? I was tired of hearing the word “accidental” in regards to this entire situation. A man was dead. And the same “accidental” explanation given. I needed to get out of here before I lost my temper.

Before leaving, I asked, “Celine, are you the one who makes sure that the epi-pens are available in the kitchen and dining room?”

“Yes. I make sure they are full and haven't gone past their expiration dates.”

“I was told the epi-pens were missing from the dining room and kitchen when Les went into anaphylactic shock.”

She gave me an strange look. “Odd. I checked them that week. There was a full supply.”

I made my excuses and left. Earlier in the week, there were plenty of epi-pens stocked in the kitchen and dining room. Sometime before Les' death they had been removed by someone. Or else Celine was a liar?
Someone
was either a thief or a liar, or both.

When I came out of the room, I had the eerie sensation of being watched. Nancy stepped forward out of the dark room next door into the hallway. I jumped. She must have been listening. I looked at her and kept walking towards the exit.

“Kay!” she called out. “Could I have a word with you,
please
?” Heavy emphasis on the last word.

I turned around, nodded, and followed her into her office. She motioned to a chair. I sat down. She shut the door and sat behind her desk. Her chair must have been elevated, since I was taller than her and she looked down at me. Probably felt it gave her a feeling of superiority when speaking to the staff.

In a cold tone, she started, “Kay, the kitchen staff has been complaining about you bothering them with questions about Les' death. This has got to stop. Quit stirring up trouble.”

“Nancy, can you please answer one simple question? How did the peanuts get into the caretaker's food?”

Nancy's voice was tense. Horizontal creases appeared across her forehead. “I've said all of this before. Over and over again. We don't use peanut products...period! Are you bothering the owner of the patisserie as well?”

“I know Marissa. She's very conscientious.”

“Conscientious, perhaps, but beyond reproach? We are conscientious here as well. That doesn't mean mistakes couldn't be made, but not in this kitchen. We check everything twice to make sure that there are no allergens, which means no peanuts!”

I would have loved to tell her about Chelsey finding the jar of peanut butter.

“If you think there's some kind of conspiracy to plot murder going on here, you've been reading too many mystery novels. And you've got a better imagination than Anne Niven.”

I looked longingly toward the door, but the tirade continued. “You're upsetting the staff. You lack any reason for your inquires. I'm asking you to refrain from this or I'll...”

She stopped, her mouth opening and closing several times, at a loss for words. Was she trying to threaten me?

Her eyes bulged behind her spectacles. Finally she found her voice. “...bring in the authorities!” She finished shrilly.

She picked up a pencil and bounced the rubber eraser end on her desk a few times. She gave an accomplished smile, and waited for my response.

I said nothing.

“And keep away from Viktor. I imagine he's who you were speaking with earlier. Limit yourself to your friends here.”

The clock struck three. I got up and left her office without saying a word.

I heard her say, “Give my regards to Phil,” as I started down the hall.

Jerk! Bringing Phil into it. She was obviously trying to spook me, but she was definitely bluffing. No way did she want to get the “authorities” involved, considering all the secrets that she harbored. Calling the police would do her a lot more harm than it would do me.

It was sleeting out when I left the Home. The cold against my face was a welcome break from the heat of my dislike for Nancy. I got into my car. I wasn't in any mood to go to the clinic to look up Lola's chart. That would have to wait until tomorrow.

* * * *

Our dinner reservations were for seven o'clock that evening. Gatsby's was the closest thing to a romantic restaurant that we had gone to in a long time. Dim lights, candles on the tables, warm teak interior, cozy tables in the corner for intimate conversation. It fit the bill close enough. When we came in, Phil asked to be seated at a table by the front windows, which were closer to the stage where they would be playing New Year's Eve.

We ordered drinks and started out with a lineup of tapas from Middle Eastern to Catalan. Sort of strange, since this was more of an English pub type restaurant, but the owners knew how to recognize a food trend in its heyday. Last year, it was sushi.

A large gold leaf mirror hung on the wall. While Phil and I talked, I looked up at the mirror and watched as Nancy Reinhardt and Shelia Harris were led to a table against the side wall by the stage. I didn't realize they were such good friends that they would dine together at a restaurant, Nancy and Sheila. Hmm. Perhaps it was a business dinner.

The waitress brought our entrees. I had the grilled wild salmon and Phil, red wine-braised short ribs. Phil kept looking in the direction of the two women.

“Phil, what are you looking at?” I asked, hoping the women wouldn't notice Phil staring at them.

“The stage area. It's kind of small. I hope our equipment fits on it.”

He hadn't even noticed Nancy. Still, Phil, try paying attention to your wife on your anniversary!

“Think I'll go over there and see how many outlets there are.” He put his napkin on the table and started to get up.

“Sit down! Not now!” I said a bit too loud. “We're eating!”

He caught my eye, smiling at me with the barest hint of acknowledgment. He sat back down. “By the way, we could invite Nancy and her friend over to join us for dessert.”

He
had
noticed them!

Then he broke out laughing. “Kay, you should have just seen your face.” He leaned forward and kissed me on my cheek.

I looked in the mirror and saw Nancy and Sheila looking over at us. Their heads moved towards each other. Minutes later, after getting the attention of the waiter, they left. As they passed by the window where we sat, they both looked the other way. They got into a car down the street.

“Nice friends.” Phil burst into laughter. “It's pretty obvious they left because of you.”

“Don't forget, Nancy was
your
friend,” I said with a smile.

We made a few toasts, finished our dinner which was delicious, and before we left, Phil looked over the stage area. We would come up with some form of dessert at home.

Tuesday, December 30

This morning, Deirdre called to invite me to join her and Elizabeth at Marissa’s. She didn't get through to Elizabeth yesterday and was dying to hear about Elizabeth’s date with the new neighbor. So was I, so I agreed to join them. Knowing I wouldn't be able to say anything in front of Elizabeth, I told Deirdre about meeting Celine Winterberg at Hawthorne Hills. We both wondered about her relationship to Robert Peterson.

As Elizabeth drove us to the patisserie, she talked nonstop about a movie she and John had seen last night, knowing full well we were dying to hear about her lunch with Robert.

“Okay. Let's get down to business,” Deirdre said as soon as we sat down.

“Yes, how was your lunch date with Robert?” I asked.

“You mean
hot date
?” She laughed. “He picked me up at the library. He had a lunch prepared for us at his home.”

“His home? What did he make?” I asked.

“Who cares what he made?” Deirdre said, looking straight ahead at Elizabeth. “Sorry, Kay. What did you talk about?”

Where was the usual laid-back Deirdre? Was she having feelings about this that she wasn't letting on? A bad aura? Something sinister in the tea leaves? There was something about this situation with Robert that she was taking too personally. I had my concerns also, but this was Elizabeth...the Elizabeth who dates three men at one time. Robert seemed a bit too infatuated for my liking, but regarding Elizabeth, lots of men were...even at her age.

“He wanted to know about my childhood, my first marriage, my son. Asked if I was happy with John.”

Deirdre looked over at me. I knew she was thinking...strange to talk about your boyfriend when on a date with someone else. Was she happy with John? She would be, if Robert would let her alone.

“He gave me this necklace.” She looped her finger through an emerald necklace. “Said it was his mother's.”

“Uh. It's beautiful,” Deirdre said, looking over at me again. “It matches your eyes. But his mother's! That's a bit much?”

“I don't think so.”

It was a stunning piece, deep emerald green, generous with rhinestones, and looked expensive. “His mother had good taste,” I said, trying to find something positive about this situation. I
also
thought it too much. He just met Elizabeth. But I'm sure that she found the gesture touching, since she had never had anything from her own mother.

Marissa came over with our favorite teas, she knew what they were, and took our orders. “Lovely necklace, Elizabeth. Must be from
someone
special,” she said in a sing-song voice, then winked at Deirdre and myself. “Tell John he has great taste.” She left.