Miz Scarlet and the Holiday Houseguests (A Scarlet Wilson Mystery #3) (6 page)

“How’s that working out?”

“What?”

“Her father’s new marriage, the new
baby...does Michaela feel left out? Is she worried that you’ll get
remarried, too, and then she’ll be cut loose from the last vestiges
of home, sweet home?”

Those dark brown eyes narrowed as she
studied me with suspicion. A moment later, her right hand tapped
her forehead and Larry let out a long, slow groan.

“Oh, damn! How did I miss that?” Larry
cringed. “I should have seen the warning signs. It’s just that I’m
so overworked ever since Max retired. We still don’t have a
replacement for him. Do you believe it, Miz Scarlet? I’m actually
the most seasoned investigator on my team now, working with the
newbies. Every mistake they make lands on my shoulders. How did
that happen?”

“It sounds like you have lots of
reasons to feel frustrated at work. Maybe your daughter’s noticed
the change.”

“Maybe. I guess it’s a good thing she’s
here with you for a few days. If her father hadn’t taken off for
Florida, I’d have sent her to his house for a couple of days. At
least she’ll get a chance to spend some time with her grandparents.
And the Googins girls,” she added. “I’m working so many hours now;
she won’t see me until I get a break in the case.”

“It’s that bad?” I wondered.

“Oh, Scarlet,” Larry sighed. “It’s
really bad. You know that dead body in the woods? The kid is the
son of Carmine Tossi.”

“The indicted city
councilman?”

“One and the same,” Larry nodded. “It
looks like someone wanted to prevent Tossi from rolling over on his
cohorts.”

Married to Lucille Genrich, the
influential founder of Fund Me, an investment group offering
start-up money to web-based non-profits, the thrice-married
Hartford politician was caught a couple of months ago handing over
a boatload of cash to a state representative. Rumor had it Tossi
was trying to influence votes in the state legislature in favor of
Fund Me’s pet projects.

“That can’t be good.”

“It’s not. It’s making me crazy,
Scarlet. This whole case is beginning to reek.” Given my friend’s
penchant for proper police protocol, it was likely there would be
head-butting if folks tried to contain the political fallout by
doing damage control farther up the chain of command, where the
decisions about law enforcement funding were made. Larry had a
stubborn streak a mile wide and once you engaged it, she dug her
heels in to the bitter end. She always said justice was supposed to
be blind, not dumb, when it came to investigating the taking of a
life. Getting a conviction was about doing right by the dead, even
if the killer was connected to powerful people.

“Why would someone want to murder the
boy? Why not just go after Carmine and leave the kid out of it?” I
wanted to know. “Or go after Lucille?”

“That’s what doesn’t make a lot of
sense to me, Miz Scarlet. It’s too easy to assume this is about his
corruption.” She was playing with her car keys, passing them back
and forth from hand to hand. I could see Larry was having trouble
wrapping her head around the case.

“In what way?”

“It feels too cut and dried, like the
ducks were shoved into line for us.” Larry’s long, elegant finger
punctuated the air with three dramatic pokes. “Bing, bang,
boom.”

I pointed out what was obvious to me.
“Killing the boy is hardly a deterrent. Won’t investigators just
dig that much deeper into Fund Me?”

“Maybe that’s what someone wants.” She
rubbed her temple, frustrated.

I paused a moment, straightening up the
pile of mail on the console table in the foyer. Something didn’t
seem right. What was it? That’s when I got my “ah ha!”
moment.

“It’s almost like someone doesn’t want
you looking elsewhere. Maybe the political spin doctors are already
at work, using this murder to affect the next election,” I
commented. “Want a cup of coffee? I just made a fresh
pot.”

“I’d love one. Keep talking to me,
Scarlet. I won’t necessarily answer you, but punch some holes in
this for me.”

I led the way to the kitchen, motioned
for her to have a seat at the kitchen island, and grabbed a couple
of mugs from the cabinet shelf, before I went to the refrigerator
and found the cream pitcher.

“How about a muffin with that
coffee?”

“That’d be great. I didn’t have time to
eat.”

“Oh? No lunch? In that case, would you
like me to make you a grilled cheese and a cup of soup?”

“I don’t want to impose.”

Even as she said that, I was already
reaching for the fry pan. I turned on the burner and added some
butter to the bottom of the pan, keeping an eye on it as it melted.
Opening the bread drawer, I took out a couple of slices of whole
grain white, put a generous helping of Vermont cheddar between
them, and slid the sandwich onto the hot buttered surface. While
that was browning, I ladled out some minestrone from a plastic
storage container in the refrigerator, filling the mug to the top,
and put the soup into the microwave to heat up.

“Wow, you’re ready good at this cooking
thing, aren’t you?” I could hear the admiration in those words.
Maybe Larry wasn’t good in the kitchen, but she sure was good
hunting bad guys.

“I can talk and grill at the same
time,” I promised. “So, this case bothers you. Why?”

As a state homicide investigator, Larry
was a big believer in physical evidence and psychological profiling
of suspects. She had told me more than once that it wasn’t enough
to have a theory. That theory had to have legs that you could walk
into the prosecutor’s office.

“As you well know, I can’t talk about
specifics of an investigation, Miz Scarlet. You’re a civilian. It’s
not kosher.”

“Right,” I nodded, humoring her. It was
the usual warning I got from her when she wanted to brainstorm in a
hypothetical fashion.

“But if you have anything to say, feel
free. I’m always happy to listen to amateurs spout their
theories.”

“Well, my first thought is this -- how
do you know this mess wasn’t motivated by the indictment of Carmine
Tossi? The guy’s been on the political scene for more than three
decades. Isn’t it likely his hands have been dirty for
years?”

“And?” Larry took a sip of soup from
her mug. “Mmm....”

“Maybe someone’s afraid the indictment
will stir up bigger fish. Maybe killing the boy was a message to
Carmine that there’s more to come unless he keeps his mouth
shut.”

“Someone outside the Fund Me group?”
Larry spooned some soup into her mouth as she considered the
possibilities.

“Someone with serious secrets,” I
suggested. “If Carmine is pushed into a corner, isn’t he likely to
make some kind of deal by offering up information on crimes
committed by other people?”

“Hmm....” The experienced homicide
investigator watched me over the rim of her soup mug.

“Maybe killing the boy was someone’s
way of making sure Carmine didn’t cough up the details and get
other folks into hot water.”

“Or maybe that’s what the spin doctors
are worried about, and their games are distracting me from finding
the real killer,” she replied pensively.

“You think they’re deliberately mudding
the waters to obfuscate the evidence trail?”

“When is Kenny coming?” asked Larry,
suddenly changing the subject. Kenny Tolliver, my heartthrob, the
love of my life, was in the process of moving to the Hartford area
to start a branch office for Mercer Security. At the moment, he was
back in Princeton, New Jersey, finalizing the sale of the home he
shared with his late wife.

“Tomorrow. Why?”

“I’ll feel better when he’s here.”
There was a troubled look in her eyes. She was holding something
back, something she was reluctant to share.

“Should I be worried? Would it be best
if Bur stayed with us tonight?” I wanted to know. “I could ask
him.”

“I’m probably just over-thinking this,
Scarlet. I’m cranky and stressed out, thanks to my parents’ visit
and Michaela’s issues.”

“But....” I left the sentence dangling,
encouraging her to finish it. She gave me a little
shrug.

“But I thought I was being followed a
couple of times today, when I was meeting with
witnesses.”

I tried to think of logical reasons why
someone would follow her, in my effort to counter her fears. “How
do you know it wasn’t some member of the press looking for the
scoop or a private investigator working for Carmine’s
lawyer?

“Or even some politico wanting to knock
me off my feet,” she added.

“More coffee?” I inquired.

She shook her head as the last few
bites of the grilled cheese went into her mouth. When she was done
swallowing, she wiped her mouth with her napkin, took a final sip
of coffee, and sat back in her counter stool, satisfied.

“Ah, thank you for being the voice of
reason, Miz Scarlet. I’m so tired I can’t see straight. I haven’t
slept well for three nights now. You’re probably right. It’s just
my overactive imagination giving me the willies.” Larry sighed,
stretching her long limbs before climbing down from her seat. “I’m
seeing the bogey man behind every corner.”

“Perhaps.” On second thought, the state
homicide investigator certainly had her share of male admirers, but
there were also a number of convicted felons, male and female, who
probably wanted to harm her. Should I remind her? I weighed my
options and decided to err on the side of caution. “Or maybe you
really do have a stalker.”

Chapter Six --

“Wouldn’t that just make my life
complete!” she sighed. “Do you know how many folks I’ve pissed off
over the years?”

“Okay,” I responded, taking the subject
seriously. “Any weird phone calls or emails lately?”

“Playing amateur detective again, Miss
Marple?”

“Humor me.”

“Fine, I will. No, nothing out of the
ordinary. Twelve nasty letters from folks I put behind bars or
their relatives, almost all of them signed. I had a handful of
hang-up phone calls this month, one obscene call that ended when I
announced I was a cop, but I checked out the telephone numbers.
There were a couple of emails sent by spammers. It’s hard to be
anonymous in this day and age of technology.”

“Anything strange happen at home?” I
continued.

“Other than having a teenager with an
attitude and parents who can’t get along to save their lives? No.
Thanks for the meal. It really hit the spot. And thanks for keeping
an eye on my kid. I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Sure. Let me walk you to the door.” I
led the way to the foyer. She grabbed her coat from the closet as
we passed by. “Did you want to talk to Bur?”

“Not really. I just said that so Mickey
would leave us alone.”

“Oh. Well, here he comes, so you’d
better think fast.” I pointed out the window at the two figures
rapidly approaching the front porch of the Four Acorns Inn. Bur and
Mickey were having an animated conversation, the teenager gesturing
with open arms.

“Nuts. Quick...what did I want to talk
to him about? Think of something.”

“Your dad needs a ride from the airport
tomorrow and you just want to make sure it’s convenient for Bur to
pick him up.”

“Perfect.” Slipping on the black wool
coat, she tied the belt around her waist, straightened out the
collar, and pulled her leather gloves from the pockets. She tucked
her glossy black hair under a black knit cloche. “And just
remember. Don’t say anything to Michaela. I don’t want her to
worry.”

“No problem,” I promised. “Mum’s the
word. Or would that be Mom?”

As he came through the door, snow
falling off his boots, Bur was singing about Rudy the Red-Hose Rain
Deer, even as Mickey giggled. It might have had something to do
with the fact that he twisted the lyrics of the classic song into
something unrecognizable. Last time I checked, the real Rudolph
wasn’t a volunteer firefighter who worked with Smokey the
Bear.

“You got here just in time,” I told
him. “Larry’s got to get back to work.”

My brother opened his arms to her.
“How’s my favorite detective?”

“Overworked and understaffed,” she
groaned, as she was enveloped in a bear hug. I noticed Bur was in
no hurry to let her go. For a moment, he seemed to bury his face in
her neck. Did he just sniff her hair? It sure looked like
it.

“And cranky,” Mickey added. “She’s
making the Grinch look like Santa’s best elf.”

“Ouch!” he recoiled. “Coming from you,
that’s harsh, half-pint.”

“Harsh, but true. I was
supposed to go to the mall with my friends tonight, but
she
said no.” The teenager
pointed a thumb at her mother.

“Michaela, I explained to you why I
needed you here at the Four Acorns Inn tonight. I don’t do it to be
mean.” Larry sounded almost petulant, disappointed by her
daughter’s reaction.