Burning Justice (6 page)

B
y the time
I was done at the office, it was almost suppertime. No new clients came, but I developed a 'to do' list for Evangeline’s case. The first item on the list was to talk to Gerta. I had a pretty good idea that she was the type of woman that could be persuaded to talk with a few baked goods.

I headed home wondering if today would be one of the rare occasions when Artemis would actually cook supper. I was hopeful, especially remembering how he had been working on the Meal-A-Tron.

As soon as I opened my apartment door, I was met with the unfamiliar scent of lemons and sanitizer. Had Artemis been cleaning? The living room was in pristine condition. The television was turned off. Magazines piled neatly on the coffee table, even the shag rug had been raked. I put my tote bag down next to the credenza and peered cautiously into the kitchen, afraid that I had been robbed or Artemis had blown a circuit.

“You're home.” Artemis was sitting at the kitchen table which had been set with two place settings.

I eyed him suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

He looked hurt. “I’m just doing my job. Is that not what you want?”

“Yes, but you’ve never done it before.”

“I’m just turning over a new leaf. I figure if I start doing what you acquired me to do, maybe you’ll start also letting me help you out in the field.”

So, that’s what this was about. Artemis was mad that I wasn’t taking him out on cases. I knew he wanted to go, but he often got in the way and his eager way of reciting facts had a way of putting people off. Though I had to admit, sometimes he could come in handy and I did like having the house cleaned.

He got up from the table, his six foot frame towering over me as he moved toward the Meal-A-Tron. I noticed he had a bunch of ingredients out on the counter. Potatoes, beef cubes, cobs of corn and spices.

“I’m making shepherd’s pie tonight,” he said in a clipped tone. He was probably mad I hadn’t commented on him being able to come out in the field.

“That would be delicious. Did you fix that thing?” I thrust my chin in the direction of the Meal-A-Tron.

Artemis frowned. “I’m not sure. I usually have a way with computers and machines but this thing … well, let’s just say we do not see eye to eye.” He dumped the ingredients into the hopper, pressed the button, and sat back down while we both eyed the machine nervously as it made crunching, grinding and sloshing noises.

My gaze slid from the machine to Artemis, who was tapping his index finger on the shiny surface of the kitchen table. I could tell he wanted to ask about the case, but his computer brain had probably told him that he should let me break the ice. I took pity on him. After all, he had done a good job cleaning the place and providing software.

“I spent the day entering my notes in my mind-mapping software on my tablet. Maybe you could compile them into the database.” Being a computer, Artemis could take my notes from the tablet and compile them in his own database of information where more programs could be run to crunch the data. My tablet was not as sophisticated as Artemis’s brain.

“I would love to. Where is your tablet?”

I pushed up from the table. “It’s in the foyer. I’ll get it.” I grabbed it from my tote bag and return to the kitchen just as the Meal-A-Tron made a loud coughing sound and then an ear-piercing beep.

“What was that?” I asked as I slid my tablet onto the table.

“I think it’s done.” Artemis’s voice carried a hint of trepidation.

We approached the machine to investigate. At one end was a large steel door inside which the prepared food, already plated, would reside. Artemis slid the door up slowly, and I leaned over and peered cautiously inside. The enticing smell of browned beef and creamy potatoes wafted out, but, instead of two bowls layered with the ground beef, whipped potatoes and corn topping of shepherd’s pie, there were two bowls of a thin, brown soup with little yellow chunks floating in it.

Artemis’s brows snapped together. “Oh, that does not look appetizing.”

“No, but it smells good.” I took a bowl, intending to brave the dinner so as not to hurt Artemis’s feelings. Did he even have feelings? The look of hopeful anxiety on his face made me think that he did.

He watched me like a hawk watches a rabbit as I raised the spoon to my lips, taking a small, tentative sip. It wasn’t really that bad—a rich beef broth taste but a little starchy. The corn chunks I could have done without, so I managed to avoid them as I sipped the soup.

“It’s good,” I said.

Artemis’s face relaxed. His lips cracked into a smile, showing perfect white teeth and reminding me of how handsome he was. For a robot.

He pulled the tablet over in front of him and stuck the fingernail of his index finger into the USB port. His nose wrinkled and his eyelids twitched as he downloaded the data from my tablet.

“Oh, yes, I see that you have quite a few questions but not much of a timeline mapped out.” He raised his brows at me.

“Right. All I know is that Evangeline came to my office and then later that night was murdered. How did they get in the boat? Who was involved? How exactly did they blow it up?”

“Yes, those are good questions. It’s possible that the killer did fill the boat with fumes ahead of time. They could have already rendered Evangeline unconscious, then they could place her on the boat and they would only need a spark to ignite it. Maybe something that could be triggered remotely?” Artemis suggested. “I’ll search my database for various ways to do that.”

“That would be helpful.” I took another sip of soup. “I wonder if the coroners found any signs of foul play on the body.”

Artemis raised a brow at me. “I could check the police database…”

“You mean hack into it?”

He blushed.

“I don't think that's a good idea. If they find out I could lose my license,” I said sternly and he looked appropriately chastised if a little disappointed. I wasn't above pushing the envelope, but messing around in the police computer system would be tempting fate.

“I’ve already compiled a list of the neighbors and have sent that to the printer in the home office." Artemis gestured toward the hallway where my spare bedroom home office was. "I will also compare the database of employees at Barrows Investments to the database of your friends and acquaintances.”

I frowned. “You have a database of my friends and acquaintances?”

“Of course. Anytime you come in contact with someone new, their data automatically gets recorded in my database.”

I guess that didn’t seem as creepy as it sounded. That sort of behavior is probably par for the course when you are a computer. “Can you check the travel databases to see where Jenny Sparks went?”

“Already done. Jenny Sparks took the super shuttle train this morning and got off in Boston. I checked for connecting travel, but her name did not come up. Unfortunately, after she got off that shuttle in Boston there doesn’t seem to be any indication of where she went next.”

I
wondered
why Jenny would go to Boston. Did she have family there? Artemis hadn’t found any evidence of her having any family when he'd checked her out before, but that was probably because she was using an assumed identity. Who knew what her real name even was or where she was from? Maybe she had taken a connecting shuttle or hopped a train or plane using a different name. Given her suspiciously empty past, she was probably a master at using assumed identities.

It was a mere ten-minute super shuttle ride from here to Boston. I could go and check it out, maybe bring a picture and question the people who worked there or the cab drivers. There must be some way to track her. She didn’t just stop existing at that super shuttle station.

I had a lot of other leads to follow up closer to home, so I figured it might be better to search through the surveillance videos of the super shuttle terminal. I knew they had cameras set up in many locations and I figured Artemis could access those videos. If we focused on the time that Jenny’s shuttle arrived, we might luck out and see where she'd headed. I was hoping she got into a cab, or took another shuttle. Maybe she’d even have a plane ticket in her hand and we could zoom in and read the destination, and possibly her new assumed name. It was worth a shot. Besides, what else did Artemis have to do?

I decided to pursue my easiest lead first. So the next morning I went up to Lexy’s, grabbed a dozen of her famous frosted cupcake tops and headed over to 420 Oak Street to visit Gerta.

But before I could get access to Gerta, I had to do battle with the persnickety security system.

“Please state your business,” it said briskly after I pressed the button.

I held up the white bakery box. “I’ve brought some cupcake tops for Gerta Beavers.”

“Weren’t you the lady who was here yesterday looking for Jenny Sparks?”

“Yes, so? A person can’t have more than one friend in a building?”

“I just think it’s a little suspicious. I don’t think you know Gerta at all. In fact, my databanks show that you met Gerta right in this very lobby yesterday.”

“So what if I did? I’m bringing her cupcake tops today. She was a nice old lady and she was very helpful. Are you going to let me in or not?”

“My duty is to protect the residents of this building. I sense that you are up to something. Admittance denied.”

And with that, its light blinked off and its panel shut down. What the heck? The door behind me whooshed open and I whirled around, relived to see Gerta hobbling through the door. Her eyes lit in recognition when she saw me. “You’re the young lady that was here yesterday looking for Jenny, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I stuck out my hand. “My name is Callie Justice. I actually brought these cupcake tops for you.”

Gerta put her gnarled, wrinkled hand into mine. Her skin was dry and paper thin, but her handshake was surprisingly strong. Her eyes flicked to the bakery box.

“I do love cupcake tops. I have fresh coffee in my apartment. Won’t you come in?” She hobbled over to the security panel and typed in her code then hit the green button. The door clicked open and I held it for her to precede me.

When she was through the door, I turned around and stuck my tongue out at the security system then slipped through the door, a childish feeling of victory bubbling up inside me.

Gerta's apartment was on the second floor and we took a rickety elevator up, then walked about one hundred feet to a plain metal door. I glanced around the hallway wondering which door was Jenny’s.

As if reading my mind, Gerta said, “Jenny hasn’t come back yet.”

Gerta pressed her thumb to a keypad beside the door and the door clicked open. “My grandson installed this fingerprint security pad. Not all the apartments have them. He was worried about my safety.”

“One can’t be too careful these days.” I followed her inside. The main door opened right into the living room. It was done in blue and yellow with lots of floral fabrics and overstuffed furniture. A white wrought iron birdcage sat in the corner, a colorful green and yellow bird chirping pleasantly inside.

“That’s Petunia. She’s a parakeet. Keeps me company.” Gerta motioned for me to follow her through the living room to the door on the right that opened into the dining room. She gestured for me to sit at an ornate mahogany dining room table While she disappeared through another small door into a modest kitchen, a little outdated with dark granite countertops and oak cabinets.

I saw Gerta approach a gleaming silver machine—Mr. Caffeine.

“Jonathan, I would like two Brazilian coffees.”

Jonathan? Hers had a name? Maybe if I named mine, it would be more agreeable.

“As you wish.” The machine whirred happily. Apparently, Mr. Caffeine was nicer to other people.

Gerta got busy taking things out of the cabinet and the fridge.

“Can I help with anything?” I asked.

“No, dear.” Gerta's voice was muffled from inside the refrigerator. “I’m just getting some cream and sugar for coffee. You just sit there. You’re my guest.”

I did as told. I could tell Gerta liked fussing over people and I figured she didn’t get a lot of visitors, so this was probably fun for her. Besides, I was afraid if I went in the kitchen, Mr. Caffeine would start spewing hot water all over the place.

Gerta hobbled back, struggling with a silver tray, on which she had put out a matching crystal creamer and sugar bowl. Wisps of steam drifted up from two delicate, pink-flowered cups that sat in the center of the tray next to a pile of cupcake tops.

She slid the tray onto the table, took some napkins from the sideboard and sat down next to me.

“Help yourself.” She gestured to the cupcake tops and took one herself, placing it on a dainty, flowered dessert plate.

I got busy with my cup of coffee, splashing in a dollop of cream and then using the ornate silver tongs that looked like a bird’s claw to pluck a sugar cube out of the bowl and drop it into my cup. I swirled the coffee with a tiny silver demi-tasse spoon and watched the sugar cube melt.

“It was very nice of you to bring these, dear. I don’t get a lot of visitors, you know.” She bit into the cupcake top and made yum-yum noises as she chewed. She swallowed, brushed the crumbs from her fingertips onto a napkin and turned her keen blue eyes on me. “Now, tell me. What
really
brings you here?”

I wasn’t that surprised by her question. I’d figured Gerta would catch on pretty quick. She seemed like she was sharp as a tack. But I also sensed that she loved an adventure, so I knew she would help me out.

I leaned back in my chair and laughed. “Okay, I guess you’re on to me. I really wanted more information about Jenny. I’m a private detective and I was working for her employer who was murdered.”

Gerta's eyes widened. “Really? How exciting.” Then her look turned skeptical. “But how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

I reached over into my tote and pulled out my badge and a business card, then slid them both across the table to her. Gerta studied them carefully, then nodded her head. “Okay. What kind of things do you want to know.”

I took a sip of the coffee. It was delightful. Earthy and full, not too sweet and not too bitter. Just the way I liked it. I wondered if I should check out what model of Mr. Caffeine she had. Mine never made coffee like this.

“How well did you know Jenny?” I asked

“Not very well, really.” Gerta straightened in her chair. “I make it my business to know the goings on in the building. Jenny was very secretive. I tried to make friends with her, but she only came for coffee once. We chatted in the lobby or the hallway sometimes. She never invited me to her place.”

“How long did she live here?”

Gerta pressed her lips together and looked up at the ceiling. “Now, let me see. That was about when Evan, my great grandson, was born so about a year-and-a-half.”

Interesting. That was when she started working for the Barrows, but I guess it made sense if you move to a new city you would need to find a new job. But where had she moved here
from
?

“Did she ever talk about any family or where she used to live?”

Gerta shook her head. “Nope. Any time you asked her anything personal like that, she’d snap shut like a clam.”

“And you say she didn’t have many friends.”

“Not any really.” Gerta's forehead wrinkled. “Well, except that blonde woman. She came around a few times.”

An image of Evangeline with her white blonde hair came to mind and I remembered how Nathan had said that Evangeline and Jenny were friends. I thought he’d been lying to throw us off track from suspecting an affair. “Did this blonde woman have really long hair, very nicely done with lavender tips?”

Gerta shoved the rest of a cupcake top into her mouth and chewed while she thought about it. She patted her lips with a napkin. “She did have very nice blonde hair, very light white color. I don’t know anything about if it was expensive or the latest fashions or the lavender tips.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I only saw her from far away, and my eyesight isn’t that good anymore.”

Could the blonde woman be Evangeline? She’d never mentioned visiting Jenny, and why would she if she suspected she was having an affair with her husband? Maybe she came to see if her suspicions were correct? But if so, why would she visit more than once?

“When did you see her? Did she come often?”

Gerta wrinkled up her face. “Not too often. But I saw her a few times over the past several months. In fact, she was here the night before last.”

“She was?” That was the night Evangeline died. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I remember because I heard some yelling and goings on and I opened my door and peeked out into the hallway to see what it was.”

“And you saw the blonde?”

“Yep, she was out in the hallway with Jenny and the two of them were having one heck of an argument.”