Loom and Doom (4 page)

“At the time I thought it was probably some crazy teenager.”

“How sure are you that the driver was a male?”

“Er . . . actually no. I just figured—because of the baseball cap.”

She seemed to think all of this over for a moment and then she mumbled something indistinct and scribbled a few words in her notebook. I wondered if she believed me after all.

“Well, with all the information you gave us, we'll probably have this case solved by the end of the day.” She gave me a smile that was more like a sneer.

“Can I go now?”

“I know where to find you if I need you. I'll probably have more questions for you so don't leave town.”

I made my way to my Jeep on shaky legs and automatically headed over to Matthew's house. I was in dire need of a good ear, a soft shoulder, some reassurance and a hug. Mostly a hug.

M
atthew Baker and I went back a long way. His mother and mine, having been college friends, had kept in touch ever since. His family and mine got together for holidays and special occasions for as long as I remembered. And then, a couple of years ago, the friendship I felt for him caught fire. Unfortunately, Matthew's feelings took longer to ignite. But it all turned out well in the end. We had recently become an item, a turnaround that threw both our mothers into a state of rapture.

I parked in front of his house and called his name as I walked in.

“In here,” he answered from the kitchen.

I dashed over and caught him standing in front of the coffee machine, wearing nothing but a towel around his midsection. He turned to face me, giving me a view of his wide shoulders and tight abs. I quashed an impulse to run my hands over him.

“Guess I caught you at a bad time,” I said instead.

“Or a good time,” he said, coming close and giving me a kiss. “Uh-oh. What's wrong?” And then, before I could answer, he continued. “Give me a minute. I'll go jump into some clothes and be right back.”

I watched him hurry away with butterflies in my stomach. Matthew was everything I had ever wanted in a man. He was warm and loving, smart, and most important, he and I shared the same values. The rest was just gravy. But what nice gravy it was. He was gorgeous, tall—I barely reached his shoulders—with dark hair and beautiful light brown eyes that had a way of turning golden when he smiled, or dark brown when he was angry.

A minute went by and then he came back down, wearing jeans and a sweater. “I was just making coffee. Want a cup?”

“Thank God you're here,” I said, coming over for a hug. “You won't believe what happened.” He was patting my back, making reassuring noises.

“Whatever it is, I'm sure it's fixable.”

For some reason, all the emotions I'd been holding in came surging forth at his display of sympathy. I was able to handle Lombard's lack of compassion and sarcasm, but in moments like this, I couldn't take kindness without falling apart. The next second I was weeping inconsolably.

From the mat in front of the stove, Winston, Matthew's French bulldog, came bouncing over, wiggling his butt—a great big ball of slobbering love.

Winston had a fierce flat face on a squat, muscular body. For all his brutish appearance, he was twenty-five pounds of pure teddy bear. Matthew and I often joked that an assailant might be in mortal danger of being licked to death.

He jumped up and rubbed his wet nose against my hands—an attempt, no doubt, to console me. Even the dog was being sweet.

I pulled out of Matthew's arms and scratched Winnie behind the ear. “Hi, boy.” He barked his pleasure. “Yes, I'm happy to see you too.”

“Here. Have a seat,” Matthew said, pulling out a chair. “Looks to me like you could use a cup of coffee.”

I nodded and pulled myself together. “I'm so glad you're here. How was your meeting with your publisher?”

He grabbed a mug from the cupboard and gave it to me. “Never mind that now. Tell me why you're so upset.”

“I had to go by city hall this morning, to get my occupancy permit.” I explained that it had been approved earlier, but somehow the inspector had neglected to leave one with Syd. “But when I got there, he was dead,” I said, fighting a fresh surge of tears. “I found his body.” I grabbed a paper napkin from the basket on the table and wiped my eyes. “You should have seen all the blood.”

“No wonder you're so upset.”

“I'm feeling better now, but I doubt I'll have much appetite for a while.”

“You called the police, of course.” I nodded. “And more important, you didn't tamper with the crime scene did you?”

Much as that comment stung, I couldn't blame him. I had once borrowed something from a murder scene. Okay, so maybe I'd done that twice—but only to help the police with their investigation of course. And the important thing was that I put it back. But no matter how much explaining and apologizing I did, Matthew had been livid. The thing is, before becoming an author, Matthew taught criminology at UNC. And before that, he was an FBI agent. Lately the local police had taken to calling him in on some of their cases as a consultant. From this, I had learned one important lesson. One might be able to get the man out of the FBI. But one could never take the FBI out of the man.

“I did not touch a thing, except for the doorknob when I opened the door.” I said nothing about the light switch and the message pad. “And I got out of there the minute I saw him.”

“Thank God for small favors.” He came over and wrapped his arms around me again, gathering me into a warm embrace that soothed all remaining stress right out of me. I melted into his arms. He smelled divine, an intoxicating mixture of citrus and musk. I breathed him in.

“Well, I'm flattered you come to me when you're upset.” He released me and refilled both our cups. “So tell me everything.”

I did. I told him about how I'd found him, how I'd been sick in the parking lot and how the police had come and questioned everyone. “And of course, which officer would show up, but Lombard.”

He looked at me puzzled. “What difference would that make?”

“I may be wrong, but I have a bad feeling she's going to try to pin this on me.”

“You have a
feeling
?” He gave me an amused smile. “You're starting to sound like Jenny.”

“I'm being serious, Matthew.”

He squeezed my hand. “I think maybe you're worrying for nothing.”

“If you're suggesting that I'm being paranoid, you're wrong. She all but said that she thought I'd killed him. She seems to think that Swanson wouldn't grant me a permit and that I killed him over that.”

“That sounds like a pretty thin reason for murder if you ask me.”

“Maybe, but she warned me not to go anywhere, that she'd have more questions for me.”

“She was just teasing you,” he said. “And if you hadn't had such a shock you would see that too.”

“I hope you're right.”

“Even supposing I wasn't. You know how the police work. After a murder, everyone is a suspect.” He stroked my cheek with his finger. “You have nothing to be concerned about. Trust me.”

“You really think so?”

He nodded. “Now, I'd like you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Repeat after me, ‘I will not get involved.'”

I was just taking a sip. I put down my cup, perhaps a bit hard because coffee spilled over the rim. “That is not fair. All I did was find a body. You can't blame me for that. Unless you think I should have walked away without calling the cops.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Repeat after me,” he said again, his voice tighter this time. “I will not—”

“Wait a minute. I just want to understand this. Are you giving me an order?”

“I'm telling you that I don't want you to get involved, because I care. Is that so difficult to grasp?” Suddenly, the atmosphere had changed. A moment ago it had been warm and loving. Now it bordered on explosive.

I took a deep breath and in a calm voice, said, “I don't tell
you
what to do or not do. I don't have that right. And neither do you.”

“Della, if you start snooping around, you could get yourself into some real trouble. And I don't want to have to worry about my girlfriend all the time. If you get yourself into another jam, I swear I'll . . . I'll . . .” He paused.

“You'll what?” I asked, my voice now rising. “You'll break off with me?” He stood there glaring at me, his mouth an angry line. “Fine,” I said. “If that's the way you want it.” I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the house.

I
drove away in a screech of tires. Much as I loved the man, sometimes he could make me spitting mad. If he thought I was going to become a biddable girlfriend, he had another think coming.

I parked behind the shop and took a moment to calm myself down. After a few deep breaths I decided to keep this argument to myself. No point in rehashing all the details with Jenny and Marnie. I already knew what they'd say—that I'd overreacted, that I should call him and apologize. In other words, all the things I was already telling myself.
I'll wait a day and then I'll decide.

Satisfied with my decision, I dashed upstairs to my apartment and changed into a pair of clean jeans and a T-shirt. These were hardly better, but at least they didn't have paint splotches and spittle. I looked at the ones I'd taken off, decided they weren't worth keeping and chucked them into the garbage. And then I hoofed it downstairs to my shop.

“Wow. How in the world did you manage to accomplish so much so quickly?” I said, walking in. “I hardly recognize the place.”

The entire space had been cleaned from top to bottom. Gone were all the newspapers that had littered the floors and been taped to the windows. And better yet, gone was the dust. I took a few steps, and could have kissed my friends when the white powdery clouds failed to appear. If not for the virgin wall and the painter's tape masking the baseboards, the shop would have looked ready to stock.

Marnie and Jenny were covering the armoire and furniture with fresh plastic drop cloths.

“We had to rewrap everything. The old sheets were covered in dust,” Marnie said.

A few feet away I noticed a gallon of paint, a roller and tray and some brushes.

“You like?” Jenny said, wiping her hands on her jeans.

“I can't believe how much work you did in so short a time.”

“Well, it wasn't such a short time. You didn't exactly come right back, as you promised,” Marnie said, her tone implying a wagging finger. “Where were you for so long? You've been gone for nearly three hours.”

The image of Swanson's dead body came flooding back. Jenny must have sensed my mood because she shook her head, a silent signal to ignore Marnie's attitude.

“We decided to speed things up,” she explained. “Syd takes so long for everything. But if we keep going, we could paint both sides by the end of the day tomorrow. Then we could set up and open day after tomorrow. What do you think?”

“That sounds a bit optimistic, but if you're game, so am I.”

“Don't look so depressed. We'll get it finished. I promise,” Marnie said.

Jenny looked at me strangely. “What's wrong? Did he give you your permit?”

“Uh, not exactly. There was a problem.”

Marnie froze. “Don't tell me he turned you down. He did the same thing to my friend I told you about. She was just at the end of her rope. Damn that man for being so ornery. I could just strangle him.”

“Somebody beat you to it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Her face fell. “Don't tell me he's—”

“Dead,” I said, nodding. “Somebody killed him.”

“Oh, no,” Jenny said, covering her mouth.

Marnie planted her hands on her hips. “That's just great. How are you supposed to get your permit now?”

Jenny gave her a light slap on the arm. “Marnie! How can you even say such a thing? The poor man is dead.”

“You always were nicer than me,” Marnie replied, not looking the least bit repentant. “I'm the more practical one.” She turned to me again. “What are you going to do?”

“I don't know. I suppose I should call city hall and ask. Maybe they can give me a temporary permit until they get a new inspector.”

“Something else is upsetting you. I can feel it,” Jenny said. “What is it?”

I scowled. “It's nothing.”

“Did you and Matthew have a fight?” she asked.

Was I that transparent? “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Whatever it was about,” Marnie said, “I wouldn't worry about it. A young lover's quarrel, that's all it is. You'll be kissing and making up in no time.” She held out her hand. “Give me your apartment keys. I'll run upstairs and call the city. We might as well find out what we should do about this permit situation.”

“I doubt there's anybody there. All the employees had been sent home when I left.”

“I'll find out soon enough. Now give me those keys.”

I handed them over. Seconds later her footsteps clattered up the stairs.

“Poor man,” Jenny said. “I know he was difficult, but no one deserves that. Surely he wasn't killed for that reason?”

“At this point, God only knows the reason.”

“Are you absolutely sure he was murdered?”

“There's no question about it.”

“He was just here—no more than a few hours ago. He had to have been killed between the time he left and the time you found him. He couldn't have seen very many people in that time. They'll probably catch the killer in no time.” I nodded. “How did you learn about his death?”

“I'm the one who found him.”

“Oh, poor you. No wonder you look so distraught. Are you all right?”

“I am now, but I was pretty upset for a while. There was a lot of blood. Somebody knocked him over the head with a marble bookend.”

She grimaced. “Ouch.”

“And then, who shows up but Officer Lombard. Let's just say she wasn't thrilled to see me. She did everything but come right out and tell me that she thinks I did it.”

“Surely she was just toying with you?”

“She sounded serious to me.”

“I suspect she's still sore at you for solving her case last fall.”

I hadn't thought of that. “You think? She should be grateful, not resentful.”

“You showed her up in front of her coworkers.”

“I didn't try to show up anyone. Why is she taking it so personally?”

Jenny shrugged. “Some people are like that.”

“I told Matthew she would try to pin this on me. He said I was worrying about nothing.”

“He's right,” Jenny said. “There's a big difference between being irritated with you and trying to pin a murder on you. Is that what your argument with Matthew was about?”

Talking about that was just about the last thing in the world I felt like doing. Luckily, the door flew open and Marnie came in, wearing a self-satisfied grin. “I don't know if all the employees were back, but I spoke with a very nice young man—the clerk in the permit department and listen to this. It turns out that the occupancy permit for the
building
was approved.”

“We already know that. What I need is to get my hands on it.”

“You're not listening. The permit was approved for the entire building. That means your side too, Jenny.”

“What?!” Jenny and I exclaimed at the same time.

“How can that be?” Jenny continued. “Syd said I wouldn't get it until I changed my electric panel.”

Marnie shrugged. “Don't ask me why, but according to the clerk I spoke to, both places are ready to go. In fact, they're registered as a single municipal address, so the one permit is all you
ever
needed.”

“Hm. Swanson told Sydney the complete opposite,” I said. “But I, for one, am not going to complain.”

“Neither am I,” Jenny said. “But what I can't figure out is why would Swanson have lied to Sydney? I'd better call him before he books that electrician. He'll be happy he won't have to spring for all that work.”

I was thinking about what Jenny had just said. “Why
would
Swanson have lied?” I said. “I might have been inclined to think Syd made it up in order to stretch out the work, except that one of the people at city hall this morning said that Swanson was in the habit of giving contractors a hard time with permits—that they all hated him for it.”

“Now I feel bad that Syd was willing to pay for the labor out of his own pocket. He would have been losing a bundle on this job.”

Marnie gave me a puzzled expression. “That hardly makes sense. No contractor offers to pay for work out of the goodness of their hearts. If he offered, it can only be because there was something in it for him.”

Now that she put it that way, I had to agree with her argument. “Like what?”

Marnie frowned. “I don't know yet, but trust me, nobody works for nothing.”

“You do,” I pointed out. “You don't charge me anywhere near what you should.”

“That's because I get something other than money out of the arrangement. I get companionship. You know how lonely I am when I work at home.”

“I wonder,” Jenny said. “Do you think Syd could have misunderstood? I can't imagine the inspector giving him a hard time for no reason.”

I doubted that. They're both in the building business and both spoke the same language—constructionese.

“Where are our building permits?” Jenny said, marching over and tearing mine off the wall where it had always been prominently displayed. She handed it to me. Glancing at it, I saw that each step of the construction had been initialed as proof that they had all been completed. “If Swanson approved my side,” she said, “he would have initialed the electrical work.” She marched out of the shop and into hers. Marnie and I followed her. As we walked in, Jenny was already looking around, searching under tarps and cardboards.

“According to the rules, we were supposed to make sure the building permits were in plain sight,” she said. “Well, wherever it is, I don't see it.”

“Hold on,” Marnie said. “If both places were considered a single unit all along, it would make sense that you only ever had the one building permit. And Sydney being a contractor, he would have known if there was only one permit for the entire building.”

I planted my hands on my hips. “In that case, he would have also had to know that if my side was approved, Jenny's was too. It's beginning to sound like Swanson was up to something, and Sydney was in on it.”

“In on what?” Jenny said, looking confused.

I was just as perplexed as she was.

Marnie and I returned to my shop, while Jenny prepared a fresh pot of coffee. A few minutes later she appeared in the doorway with a tray of steaming coffee mugs. “I called Syd to tell him he didn't have to move the electrical box. He sounded surprised, not at all like someone who'd been caught in a lie.”

“Ha! Maybe he sounded surprised because he didn't expect you to find out,” Marnie said.

Jenny disregarded the comment. “He's just a few minutes away, so he'll drop by and pick up the rest of his tools.”

“Did you tell him about Swanson?”

“I didn't have the heart. I hate being the bearer of bad news.”

“It might not have been bad news,” I said. “According to Dempsey, one of the contractors who hated Swanson the most was Syd.”

“I don't believe that for a minute,” she said. She always believed the best of everyone.

When I glanced at her, Marnie was watching me with a peculiar smile. “Why are you looking at me in that way?” I asked.

“No reason.”

“You've obviously got something on your mind. Tell me.”

“I was just noticing the gleam in your eyes as you were trying to solve the puzzle. You are playing detective again. Aren't you?”