Ice Cream Murder (8 page)

“That’s the thing,” Helen answered. “They might not have noticed consciously … but something could be there in their subconscious.”

Lexy stared at Helen, remembering the older woman was a master hypnotist. “You mean you want to hypnotize them?”

“Yep.”

“That’s an idea.” Nans pushed some crumbs around on her plate. “It might be our only chance. But before we go to those lengths, I want to make damn sure we have a good reason to suspect Winston.”

Lexy’s phone chirped. She picked it up, her lips pressing together as she read the text from Norman.

“I think we might have a good reason. Word on the street is that Winston owed big gambling debts. Almost a million dollars. And from what Norman heard, some really nasty characters were itching to collect.”

***

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled Nans’ apartment. Lexy waited patiently by the old-fashioned stainless steel percolator, listening to the glugging noise and watching the coffee bubble up into the glass top of the cap.
 

A double-tiered tray of pastries sat on Nans mahogany dining room table. Plates had been passed out, napkins distributed and Nans’ 1950s Jadeite creamer and sugar set had been filled and placed in the middle of the table.
 

The whiteboard sat by the wall in the same place it had been before, except now it had more writing on it—the clues they’d found since the last time Lexy had been there.

“It’s been fifteen minutes, Lexy. Any longer and the coffee will be too strong to drink!” Ruth yelled from her seat at the table.

Lexy liked her coffee strong, but took the hint and turned the percolator off. She poured coffees for everyone and handed them out before taking a seat.

“I’ve already hypnotized Mona, Ida and Ruth with no success,” Helen said ruefully. “Hopefully, you girls will remember something.”

“Have you ever been hypnotized before?” Ruth asked Anna.

“No.” Anna looked around at them with wide, nervous eyes.
 

Lexy sympathized with her. She’d picked her up after work and filled her in on their theory. Anna had readily agreed to be hypnotized in the hopes she’d seen Winston make the switch. Anything to prove the liability wasn’t with the catering.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Lexy assured her with a sideways glance at Helen. Not that long ago, Helen had hypnotized Lexy. It had been painless—pleasant even—except for the strange side effect Helen had added in as a prank, which caused Lexy to quack like a duck whenever she drank coffee.
 

That had worn off now, but the four older ladies had gotten a big hoot out of it at the time. Lexy’s eyes slid to her coffee mug. Hopefully, nothing like that would happen this time.

“Lexy, why don’t you go first and Anna can see how it’s done,” Ida said.

“Okay.” Lexy pulled her chair close to Helen who took Lexy’s left wrist in one hand.
 

“Now, close your eyes and relax,” Helen said in a low soothing tone. “You’re safe here. You’re on the beach, the waves coming in and out … in and out. The sound of the surf, the gulls, the warming sun. The waves in and out … in and out.”

Lexy could feel herself relaxing, deeper and deeper. She settled back into the chair, not a care in the world.

“Picture yourself at Regis’ birthday dinner,” Helen droned. “You’ve just served the ice cream. What do you see?”

Lexy pictured the dining room at the lodge clearly in her mind’s eye. “The room is all set up. Lots of people milling around.”

“Can you see the head table?”

“Yes. The Banks family is seated with their ice cream.”

“Focus on Regis … what do you see?”

“He’s sitting, talking to Winston, then leans over toward Olivia. Winston rips open one of those wet-naps and is rubbing his hands with it. Now Cora is behind them, bends down to whisper in Regis’ ear. Oh, crap.”

“What?”
 

“A man is approaching the table. Big, broad shoulders. Dark, longish hair, kind of curly. I don’t know who he is, but he’s blocked my view!”
 

Helen tightened her hold on Lexy’s wrist. “Focus on the ice cream dish in front of Regis.”

“That’s the problem, I can’t see it - my view is totally blocked! Wait. Now the man is moving away, going back to his table. Regis is standing up to make his speech. The ice cream could have already been switched and I didn’t see it.”

Helen sighed. “Okay, when I count to three you’ll wake up refreshed and happy. One. Two. Three.”

Lexy’s eyes snapped open. She felt like she’d just slept the best sleep of her life. She remembered only bits and pieces about what happened while she’d been under hypnosis though. “Did you get anything?”

“Unfortunately, no. Someone blocked your view.”

“Ughh … Sorry. I’d hoped we’d be able to prove it was Winston. At least to ourselves, anyway. I don’t think hypnosis is admissible in court, but at least
we’d
know and I’m sure Jack would believe us and open the case.”

“Don’t feel bad. All is not lost.” Nans put the brownie she’d plucked from the top tier of the pastry dish on her plate. “Maybe Anna was watching from a different spot in the room and saw the switch.”

Lexy got up and Anna sat in the chair next to Helen, who took her wrist and put her under hypnosis, the same as she’d done to Lexy.

“What do you see at the head table?” Helen asked.

“Cora. She’s giving me a dirty look. She’s unhappy we’re late serving the ice cream.”

“What about Regis. Can you see him?”

“Yes. He’s talking to Winston … now he’s turned to listen to something Olivia is saying.”

“Is he eating the ice cream?”

Anna paused. “No. It doesn’t look like he’s eaten any yet.”

“Okay. What’s happening now?”

“Someone at a table is signaling me. They want more coffee. I get a pot from the back and top off their cup.”

“What about the head table?”
 

“Regis is making his speech.”

Helen exchanged a look with Nans, who nodded. Lexy’s stomach sank as Helen brought Anna out of the hypnotized state. Anna had been busy pouring coffee when the ice cream switch happened, so she didn’t see the switch either.

“Well, that was disappointing.” Ida mumbled, swooping the filling out of the side of a Whoopee pie with her finger and licking it off.

“I know,” Nans sighed. “We’ll just have to hope an incriminating shot shows up at the photographer’s. A picture will be better anyway, as it will provide indisputable proof.”

Ida turned to Anna. “Do you know who the photographer was?”

“Yes, Lexy asked me to bring his card.” She fished a business card out of her back pocket and handed it to Ida who glanced at it and then passed it on to Nans.

Nans squinted at the card. “I’ll get in touch with him first thing in the morning.”

“Say, what was the big announcement Regis was going to make?” Helen asked.

Lexy and Anna looked at each other and shrugged. “No idea.”

Ida wrinkled her brow. “That might be something. Maybe somebody didn’t want him to make that announcement.”

“Winston?” Ruth’s brows lifted a fraction of an inch.

Ida shrugged. “Possibly, or maybe someone else.”

“But why? And would it be something to kill over?” Helen asked.

“It’s something to look into,” Nans said. “I think we need to pay a visit to Regis’ personal assistant. What was her name?”

“Cora,” Anna said. “I don’t know her last name, but she’s still working for the Banks helping settle some of Regis’ affairs.”
 

“She could be a wealth of information,” Ruth said.

“And she might know about the announcement,” Helen added.

“It’s settled, then. Tomorrow we’ll call on Cora and the photographer.” Nans turned to Lexy. “You better bake extra cookies tomorrow—there’s nothing like fresh baked cookies to get people in a talkative mood.”

Chapter Ten

The next morning passed in a flurry of baking. In between waiting on customers, Lexy and Cassie made extra batches of Snickerdoodles, chocolate chunk, peanut butter and, of course the old standby—chocolate chip cookies.

Lexy had packed two white bakery boxes full of the cookies and was ready to go when the ladies pulled up in front of
The Cup and Cake
in Ruth’s giant blue Oldsmobile at eleven-thirty.
 

“Put your seat belt on.” Ruth’s eyes met Lexy’s in the rear-view mirror as Lexy slid into the long backseat next to Nans. Lexy did as told and Ruth lurched the car away from the curb.

“So, what’s the plan?” Lexy asked.

“Helen got a tip that Cora would be at Regis’ office at noon. We’re going to pay a visit to her there with the cookies to offer our condolences. We figure since you were the caterer, bringing some cookies to his office as a peace offering won’t seem suspicious,” Ida said from her spot in the front passenger seat.

Lexy squirmed in her seat. She didn’t like being put on the spot.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll do all the talking,” Nans said, as if reading her mind.

“After that we’re heading straight to Elm Street to visit the photographer, Harry Wolf.” Ruth added.

“That’s right. He’s on a photo shoot this morning, but said he’d be back to meet us at one o’clock. So we’d better get all our questioning in with Cora pretty quick,” Nans said as Ruth pulled into
Banks Development
parking lot, swerving through the rows of cars before settling on a spot under a large oak tree in the back.

They piled out and walked to the one-story brick building.
 

“Gee, I was expecting something bigger,” Lexy said. “A high-rise with lots of offices. I thought he had a big business.”

“He does.” Ida looked over the top of her large old-lady sunglasses at the building. “But he’s not one to spend money on niceties. Plus, most of his workers are at the construction sites. This building is just for the management.”

Nans held the door and they walked into a reception area with beige industrial carpeting and tan micro suede sofas. Several vases of flowers bloomed on various tables around the room. Condolence bouquets, Lexy assumed.

They approached a horseshoe-shaped faux wooden desk, behind which a young woman beamed a welcoming smile at them.

“Hi, we’d like to see Mr. Banks private assistant, Cora.” Nans said in a brisk, business-like voice. “This is Lexy Baker who catered Mr. Banks birthday event and she has a condolence offering.”

Lexy’s stomach twisted as the girl’s smile faltered. The receptionist frowned at Lexy. “I’m sorry, but she’s not here—”

The door opened behind them. They all turn to see Cora, rushing in like she was in the world’s biggest hurry. She stopped short, her flushed face registering surprise at the congregation in front of the desk.

“Looks like you’re in luck,” the receptionist said to Nans, then turned to Cora. “These people are here to give their condolences about Mr. Banks.”

“Oh?” Cora scowled at Lexy. “Aren’t you the caterer from Regis’ birthday party?”
 

Lexy fought the urge to turn and run. Of course, running would have been impossible with the vise-like grip Nans had on her elbow.
 

“Yes. I’m the dessert caterer. I’m very sorry about the whole thing,” Lexy squeaked out.

Cora looked sharply at Nans, Ruth, Ida and Helen. “And who are you?”

Nans introduced them and then held up the bakery box. “This is for the office. Lexy makes the best cookies.”
 

Cora took the box, the frown still evident on her face.

“I wonder if we could have a moment of your time …” Nans ventured.

“Me? What for? I’m very busy straightening out Mr. Banks projects for the hand-off.”

“I’m sure you must be. But this is important.” Nans leaned closer to Cora and lowered her voice. “It concerns Mr. Banks.”

Cora stared at Nans skeptically, but something in Nans’ tone must have piqued her curiosity. “Oh, all right then. Follow me.”
 

Cora turned and walked toward a hallway. The women followed her. Lexy couldn’t help but check out her shoes—her love of footwear drove her to it. She felt a pang of envy. Cora wore a pair of purple suede designer pumps with steel-tipped heels.
 

Cora stopped in front of an office suite and Lexy blurted out, “I love those shoes.”

Cora glanced down, then frowned, bending to hurriedly wipe off a smudge on the tip of one of the shoes.
 

“Thanks, they’re Manolo Blahnik,” she shot over her shoulder continuing into the offices.

The outer office was plainly furnished with a desk, bookshelves and two filing cabinets.
 

This must be Cora’s office
, Lexy thought, looking at the clean surfaces. No messy papers or books. No signs of personal mementos either, except a small framed photo of a gnarled old oak tree against a sunset landscape on the windowsill. The office was neat as a pin, the only mess being a large amount of wet-nap packets all torn open and laying in the trash.
 

One wall had an impressive set of double doors that opened into a much grander, mahogany furnished office. The former office of Regis Banks was now filled with cardboard boxes. The bookshelves were half-empty. The filing cabinet drawers sat open, their contents in the midst of being transferred into cardboard storage.

Cora turned to them. “Now that Mr. Banks is gone, his son, Winston, will take this office. I’m just packing up the stuff Winston doesn’t want.”

“Will Winston keep you on?” Nans asked.

Cora shrugged. “I don’t know what his plans are. We haven’t discussed it.”

“Do you even
want
to work for him? I heard he had some … problems,” Nans said.
 

Cora’s sharp dark eyes assessed Nans. “Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s just say I hear he’s not as good with money as his father.”

Cora looked away. “Yes, that’s true.”

“You didn’t notice any tension between Winston and Regis lately, did you?” Ruth cut in.

“Tension? You mean like as if they were fighting?” Cora worked at untying the pink string that Lexy had used to secure the bakery box.