A Dead End (A Saints & Strangers Cozy Mystery Book 1) (13 page)

In one swift move, Romeo plucked two plates from a nearby box and handed them to her.

“Impressive. What’s your next trick?” she quipped as she arranged the donuts on the plates.

Romeo shifted a few boxes so that he could sit down at the small table by the sliding glass door. “Before we continue this conversation, I want you to promise me that you’ll stay away from Vincent Delfino.”

Kit opened the lid of her coffee and sipped. “I’m not planning to date him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He waved her off. “I mean it, Kit. Stay out of police business. Whatever you did on your show isn’t the same as real life. People aren’t following a script.”

“I know. If they were, Delfino would’ve groped me or been a much bigger creep than he actually was.”

Romeo sighed. “You’re not making this easy.”

She chomped on her donut. “You’ll change your mind about that when you hear what I know.”

Romeo leaned back in his chair. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Did you know that Peregrine Monroe wanted to sell her house, like, two years ago?”

“And?”

“Why didn’t she tell us that? As far as anyone knows, that’s a recent development. And why do you think she didn’t list her house?”

Romeo nodded, understanding. “Her mess of a neighbor.”

“Exactly. She even tried to get Chief Riley to speak to him.”

“Chief Riley?” The wheels began turning. “Let me guess. They’re both Pilgrims.”

Kit snorted. “Chief Riley? Not quite. He’s sweet on her.”

Romeo stretched his legs and stood. “Can I help you unpack? I’m uncomfortable sitting here with all these boxes.”

Kit was taken aback. A guy who was proactive and wanted to pitch in? Was he a new species? “Sure. Why don’t you remove the risk of me hitting you with pots and pans by putting those in the lower cabinets?” She pointed to the largest box on the floor.

Romeo set to work. “So is Peregrine the reason why the press hasn’t reported the murder?”

“You noticed the lack of press coverage, huh?”

“Your cousin,” Romeo said, sliding a steamer to the back of the shelf. “You said he runs the paper, right?”

Kit nodded and pulled a Vitamix from the box. “Thank God.” She hugged the blender to her chest.

Romeo glanced at her discovery. “Your version of a teddy bear?” he queried.

“I miss the kale smoothies I make with this baby.”

Romeo scrunched his nose. “You really were in Hollywood, weren’t you?”

Kit unearthed an omelette pan from the bottom of the box. “Hey, have you made any progress on the murder weapon? What do you think crushed his chest?”

“We’ve been searching the storage unit with Ernie’s belongings but haven’t found anything yet.”

“Who pays for the unit?” Kit wondered.

“The bank. Once we’re finished our investigation, though, they’ll sell the stuff. You’ve seen those shows on TV, right? Where people bid on the contents of a unit.”

Kit shook her head. “No. Sounds boring.”

Romeo chuckled. “I agree, but my dad loves those shows.” He flattened his empty box and moved on to another one.

“Why is the bank still holding his stuff after all this time?”

“Red tape,” Romeo replied. “You can always count on red tape when there’s a bank involved. They’re worse than the government.”

“But just as crooked,” Kit remarked. “So why do you think the killer took the motor home?”

“We can’t say with certainty that he did.”

“But what’s the other option?” Kit pressed him. “Someone happened to steal it around the same time Ernie was killed?”

“I agree it’s unlikely.” Romeo held up a mug in the shape of a pig. “One of yours?”

Kit swiped the mug from his hands and clutched it protectively. “I collect pigs. So what?” Carefully, she placed the mug on the windowsill behind the sink.

“We haven’t found any sign of the motor home, but it’ll be tough to locate, especially if the tags have been switched.”

“Why didn’t anyone look for Ernie when he went missing last year?” she asked. She felt a sudden rush of sympathy for the unpopular neighbor. At least if she went missing, people would notice. Heck, people noticed if she went four hours without tweeting.

“No one ever reported him missing,” Romeo said. “His house was already on the verge of foreclosure when he supposedly left town. He owed a lot of money to Delfino. Seems to me everyone assumed he took off in his motor home and started a new life somewhere else.”

Kit stared at the Tiffany bud vase in her hand. It had been a Valentine’s Day gift from the two-timing Charlie Owen. “But he was here the whole time.” She pushed the vase to the back of the shelf.

“Why are you storing that?” Romeo reached in and rescued the vase from the back of the cabinet. “It’s beautiful.” His dark eyes twinkled. “I’ll be right back.”

Two minutes later, he reappeared with a single pink rose. He filled the vase with water and popped the rose inside.

“Voilà,” he said, placing the vase in the middle of her small table.

Kit was touched. “You didn’t steal that from Thora’s prizewinning garden, did you?”

“Technically, it was on your property,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“Be careful. She probably has surveillance cameras pointed at her rose garden.”

“I wish she did. Then we could watch old videos for clues.” He returned to the box of mugs. “I think your cousin should report on the discovery of the body.”

“Why? Chief Riley doesn’t want residents to panic.”

“No, it seems Chief Riley wants to protect the property values of certain members of the community. It’s not in the public interest to keep this quiet.”

Kit studied him. “You think it might flush out the killer?”

Romeo shrugged. “I’d be curious to see how our suspects respond to the news when it goes public. He’s got an online version, too, right?”

“What do you think people actually read?” she said archly.

“I’ll stop by his office when I leave here. I’d like it to run as soon as possible.”

“Have the bones turned up?” she asked.

He scowled again. “I’m beginning to think Chief Riley had a hand in that, too.”

“And a foot and even a torso,” Kit added grimly. If Romeo was right, then the Westdale Police brought a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘to serve and protect.’

Kit rode Peppermint along the rough grounds of Greyabbey. The sun was high and hot and she was regretting her decision to take the horse out on such a sweltering day.

“Hey, Miss Wilder,” a voice called and Kit noticed Paul Krasensky ambling toward her.

“Hi, Paul,” she said. She steered Peppermint alongside him.

“This is good timing,” Paul said. “I’ll be able to check her over as soon as you bring her back.”

“How’s everything in the Krasensky family?” she asked.

“You know, same crap, different day. The twins ain’t speaking because of a boy.” He rolled his eyes. “So I got Janine in my spare room and now I got my younger brother crashing on my sofa. Never a dull moment.”

“Well, it looks like my neighbor is selling her house soon if any Krasenskys are interested. It’s the cleanest house you’ve ever seen. It’s on the corner of Thornhill and Keystone Roads.” She doubted the price would be right for them, but she wouldn’t mind having a Krasensky for a neighbor. They seemed like the sort of loud, argumentative family that she’s always longed to be a part of.

Paul scratched his chin. “Peregrine Monroe’s finally selling her place, huh?”

“What do you mean ‘finally’?” Kit couldn’t imagine how Paul would be privy to such information.

“She was hoping to sell ages ago. She’d paid Carl a tidy sum to…” He stopped talking and spat on the ground. “Forget it.”

“Paul, tell me,” she urged. Although Peppermint was growing antsy standing still, she wasn’t ready to finish the conversation. “What did she pay Carl to do?”

He stared at the ground. “I don’t know exactly, but whatever it was, she paid enough for Carl to start over somewhere new. That’s what he always wanted. He hated the winter. Always talked about going somewhere like Arizona.”

The gears in Kit’s mind began to shift. “Did he have a car?”

Paul shook his head. “Nope, he had a bike, but mostly he walked unless he needed to go into Philly or something. Then he’d take the train.”

Kit tried to keep her breathing steady. “Paul, I know you said you and Carl don’t keep in regular contact, but when was the last time you heard from him?”

“Not sure. I think it was right after Tommy’s birthday last year. We went to Fanatics and watched the Phillies.” Paul gazed up at her, shielding his eyes from the bright sun. “You think maybe he hurt the guy and took off?”

Killed him and took off in his motor home, you mean, Kit thought to herself. It made sense that he wouldn’t make contact with his family. Carl was probably laying low until the dust settled. She didn’t have the heart to call Carl a murderer to his brother’s innocent face, though. Maybe she didn’t want a Krasensky living next door after all.

“I honestly don’t know, Paul. I’ll give Detective Moretti a call and let him know it’s time for another conversation with Peregrine Monroe.”

“I don’t want to get Carl in any trouble,” Paul said. Kit could see the worry lines deepening in his forehead.

“If he didn’t do anything wrong, he won’t get in trouble.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did something wrong,” Paul admitted. “He’s my brother and I love him, but being a thug kept him from being penniless. I don’t think he would kill anybody, though. Not on purpose anyway.”

“Would you be willing to talk to the police? Tell them everything you know?” she asked, fully aware that she was putting him in a difficult position. If Peregrine Monroe denied hiring Carl, the police would need Paul’s statement to contradict her.

Paul looked away from Kit in the direction of Greyabbey. “Family’s everything, you know? Even if we don’t like the people we’re tied to, we’re still bonded for life.”

Kit realized that Paul wasn’t going to help willingly. She dismounted and offered him the reins. “Would you mind taking her back? I’m not in the mood to ride anymore.”

Wordlessly, Paul took the reins and slunk toward the stable. As much as she liked Paul, she couldn’t withhold the information from the police. Not when it seemed like the information could lead to the murderer.

On the walk back to Greyabbey, Kit decided to call Romeo. She didn’t want to delay passing along Paul’s pertinent information.

“You just can’t enough of me,” he answered. “Not that I blame you.”

“I know I’m not supposed to be involving myself, especially now that I get to live in my house,” she began, “but I have a tip for you.”

“Let me guess. Delfino came by with a picnic lunch and a signed confession.”

“Jealous?” she teased. He certainly sounded jealous.

“Please tell me it doesn’t involve the bookie.” She could practically hear him frowning.

“It doesn’t.” She told him about Carl Krasenky’s possible involvement.

Romeo blew out a loud, exasperated breath. “I guess it’s time to pay Peregrine Monroe another visit.” He paused. “Alone, this time.”

“You want me to talk to her by myself?” Kit asked.

“Ha ha. Not funny. I’ll speak to her without you, thanks.”

“That’s my reward for helping out? A time-out in the penalty box?”

“It can’t be a time-out when you don’t belong in the game in the first place,” Romeo explained.

“Fine, have it your way.” She saw Hermès and Valentino bounding toward her. “I should go. Someone’s released the hounds.”

“Tell your cousin thanks for the coverage, by the way. I read the article this morning.”

“In print or online?” she queried, fending off Valentino’s sloppy kisses.

“In the paper over an espresso in Butter Beans.”

Kit’s radar pinged. “You were in Butter Beans? Why would you come to Westdale for your morning coffee?” For a moment, she thought it might be for the chance to run into her. She quickly realized her mistake. “You were eavesdropping.”

“Maybe.”

“Hear anything good?”

“Not that I’d share with a civilian who is most definitely not a part of this case. And just a warning, you may get some looky-loos on your front lawn now that the word is out.”

“I’m used to unwanted eyeballs,” she replied. Not that she liked it.

“So Carl’s brother is Paul?” he asked. “I’d like to speak to him sooner rather than later.”

“He’s at the stable now, but I suspect he won’t be by the time you get here. He doesn’t seem eager to rat out his brother.”

“Do you have an address for him?”

“No, but I can get it from Huntley.”

“No, I’ll get it from him. You’re not involved, remember?”

She remembered well enough, but somebody needed to clue in the universe because it clearly wasn’t listening.

Kit pulled her hair back into a ponytail and slipped on a hat as she prepared to cut the grass in her backyard. She wasn’t entirely sure how to operate the mower, but Thora had assured her that it was easy like Sunday morning. Thora was apparently a Lionel Richie fan. The older woman had a lawn service that came once a week so she’d offered Kit the use of her old mower. Kit had never done anything so domestic in her life. At Greyabbey and in Los Angeles, she’d had staff for such tasks. As a college student with her own fixer upper, however, it was time to learn the basics.

She started the mower and began guiding it in a straight line across the lawn. No pushing was required. The mower practically moved by itself. It didn’t take long before Kit grew bored of cutting neat rows. She made a tight turn and cut diagonally across the yard. Then she carried on criss-crossing her way around the lawn, starting to enjoy herself.

The faint ringing of a bell tickled her ear and she stopped the mower to listen.

“That’s the craziest technique I’ve ever seen,” Thora remarked from her side of the yard. In her hand, she held a delicate silver bell.

“Not so much a technique as a pattern.”

“Can I offer you a lemonade?” Thora asked. “You look like you need hydration, not to mention another twenty pounds.”

“Lemonade sounds perfect.”

Kit surveyed the neatly cut star shape as she walked across the lawn and was pleased with her handiwork. She thought it was interesting that, as much as Peregrine and Thora disliked Ernie, neither had erected a fence between their properties. Maybe this was a situation where good fences would have made good neighbors, although Kit doubted it.