Old Maid's Puzzle (7 page)

Through the closed windows, I could hear voices in the alley. Must be Mrs. Unites' workers taking out the trash at the burrito shop.

"Are we supposed to cut a three-inch piece or two-and-one half?"

My tablemate was crowding my elbow, asking her question to me. Ina'd told us earlier that she wanted the students to address her with questions, not each other. According to her, that's how bad information got disseminated. But she was across the room showing Tim Shore the difference between his metal ruler and her plastic one. I checked the handout Ina had given us. I pointed at the line of text that called for two-and-one-half-inch strips.

"Thanks," she said. Moving away, she gave me space to cut. I waited until she was back at her own mat. I tried not to think about accidentally nicking her if she got close again. When I was sure she wasn't going to interrupt me again, I picked up my rotary cutter. I felt the heft in my hand and clicked open the safety catch several times. It snapped shut tightly. All I had to do was put the blade to the fabric and cut.

I took another deep breath.

The store phone rang. The ringer was off on the classroom extension, but I could hear the bell faintly through the wall of the classroom. I tried to find the two-and-one-half-inch mark on the ruler. The numbers swam in front of me. The phone rang again. And again. I couldn't find the right line. After the sixth ring, I left my table, leaving my fabric uncut on the mat. Ina caught my eye and shook her head. I ignored her and reached for the phone.

Ina got there first. She put her small fist over the receiver.

"Do not get that, Dewey."

"Vangie must be busy." The phone trilled. "Or not back from guild."

Ina rapped my forearm. "It's probably just another Halloween mom, looking for black and white striped spandex, so her precious nine-year-old can dress up as David Lee Roth"

I stifled a giggle. Ina's pale green eyes were flashing, so I knew laughing was not a good idea, but the image of a miniature David Lee Roth was a funny one.

"No phone call is that important. That's why I ban cell phones." She pointed to the basket that sat on a small table by the entrance to the room. Ina didn't trust people to just turn them off, she insisted people empty their pocketbooks. We almost always had a panicked phone call the next morning from a student who left hers behind. I'd stashed mine in my office, so as not to incur her unreasonable cell phone wrath.

The phone stopped ringing. I went back to my fabric and the dreaded cutter. Ina moved away to answer a question.

The door opened. I was surprised to see Vangie enter. Ina glanced up sharply from across the room. She had a strict closed-door policy when it came to her classes. Grim-faced, Vangie made a beeline to my table. She tilted her head, indicating I should come out into the hall. I didn't look at Ina as I followed her out of the classroom, but I felt her eyes on my back.

"Was the phone for me?" I asked.

Vangie look startled and shook her head "Urn ... I don't know. I didn't get to it in time."

I quickly saw why she looked so disturbed. A uniformed police officer was standing quietly in the hall near the back door. I recognized him as the neighborhood liaison officer. Wong. He had jet black hair cut so short, I could see his scalp. If it wasn't for the uniform, I would have thought he was still in high school. I guess that was a sign of being thirty. Everyone younger than you was of indeterminate age.

Vangie was overreacting, but I knew she didn't like the police. As a teen, she'd felt targeted because of her Mexican heritage, and she couldn't let go of the idea that most police officers had hidden agendas. She made a small exception for Buster.

I put out my hand. "Officer Wong? Is this about the Neighborhood Watch? I swear I'll make the meeting next week." I'd been ignoring the e-mail notices about October being Crime Prevention month.

I knew he wasn't here about that, but, as long as my mouth was busy, my mind would not acknowledge why a grim-faced policeman was standing in my store. I only hoped it wasn't as bad as I thought.

Vangie spoke before he did. "Mrs. Unites found a dead body in the alley, Dewey."

My stomach fell. I couldn't have heard her right. "Someone died in my alley?"

The alley between QP and the burrito place began in the small gravel parking lot behind the store and ended at the street. Not wide enough to drive a car through, it was home to the dumpster and recycling bins. The shortcut was popular with teenagers on their way to Starbucks. And the homeless.

"Is it Juan? Our homeless guy?" I said to Wong. "Maybe he's not dead. When he's asleep out there, sometimes I swear he looks like a bundle of rags. Usually if you talk to him, he'll move on." I looked at my watch. It was nearly seven PM. That was early-Juan usually waited for the store to close before he went down for the night. His was often the last face I saw when I left the store late at night.

That would be bad, but a homeless guy dying of natural causes was not the worst thing that could happen. Please, please, please, I repeated silently, like a kid hoping for the claw to grab the toy once and for all.

Wong said, "I know him, too. This is not Juan, and he is definitely not sleeping."

"Then who?" I asked.

Wong's lips were pressed tightly together. I wondered if this was his first body. If so, I was two up on him.

"I don't know at this time. The medical examiner will retrieve his wallet when he arrives. Until then, I'd like assistance with a visual identification," he said. "Would one of you be willing to come out and view the deceased?"

Vangie blanched and shook her head. She cracked her thumb knuckle, making my skin crawl. Right about now, she was probably wishing she'd never heard of Quilter Paradiso.

I had to be the one to go out there. My store. My alley. My body.

I glanced back at the closed door to the classroom. If the medical examiner was coming, the alley would soon be full of people, lights, and noise. There was no way to keep this from the students. I could only hope to prolong their time in class, so they'd be interested enough to come back next week.

Police investigations took as long as they took, and they were never quick. It was going to be a long night. The first order of business was to keep Vangie occupied.

"Can you make us some coffee, Vang?"

"Coffee?" Vangie's tone was disbelieving. She looked at Officer Wong, who was holding the back door open, waiting for me. "Okay," she said.

She disappeared into the kitchen. I heard the water run and the refrigerator door open and close.

I followed Officer Wong.

The air was cool, but the night was clear. The sun had set since I'd last been out, and the sky was navy blue. The back parking lot was brightly lit from the flood lamp at the end of the building. The lot was filled to capacity with eight cars pointing into the vinecovered fence. Vangie's bike was locked to the small metal railing that lined the concrete steps.

Everything looked normal. But that was only because I couldn't see into the alley from here.

We turned to our left. I saw the edge of the green dumpster. My heart was thumping wildly. I glanced up at the classroom windows that looked out over the alley. Luckily the windows were closed, and the curtains Mom had sewn were drawn tight. The last thing I needed was for those people to know there was a dead body out here.

A pile of broken-down cardboard lay in front of the recycle bin. Mrs. Unites had obviously been getting rid of boxes when she came out here. She was standing near the back of her restaurant, talking to a female officer. I gave her a faint smile.

Three more steps, and I saw the man lying on the ground. He was sprawled on the concrete pad, between the blue recycle bin and the green metal dumpster. His jacket was a bit worn, but his pants and shirt looked clean. I had the silly thought that he must have been like Buster, fussy about his clothes. His hair was thin, the brown strands lank across his forehead. His nose was long and angular.

The dead man looked as though someone had tripped him, and he'd been too tired to get up. He'd rolled onto one side and was staring one-eyed at me. I shuddered. He didn't look like he'd died a serene death.

I was relieved. "I don't recognize him. How do you think he died?"

"See that grimace?" Wong said, pointing with his pen. "He was poisoned."

SIX

MY WORST FEAR. NOT just a police investigation, but a murder investigation. I reached for my phone to call Buster, but I'd left it at my desk to comply with Ina's no cell rule. Damn.

Wong was watching me closely. I took a deep breath and sat on the steps.

A black sedan pulled up. Wong straightened his belt that carried his gun, radio, phone, and assorted other tools. A short man with black hair slicked back from his high forehead got out of the car. He conferred with a trench-coated woman with shoulderlength blonde hair who'd been driving. They split up, with the man heading toward me and the woman finding her way to Mrs. Unites.

He came at me smiling, his worn cowboy boots causing him to list slightly. He put out a hand. A gold bracelet encircling his wrist caught the light as it fell into the meat of his palm. I got up, and he introduced himself as Anton Zorn, looking deep into my eyes as though he was trying to read the writing on my soul. I was glad he was on the law enforcement side, because if he used his charms for evil, no woman would stand a chance.

Wong said, "This is Ms. Pellicano. She owns the fabric store."

"Quilt shop," I said automatically.

"I'm very sorry for your inconvenience, Ms. Pellicano," Zorn said. "How many people are inside?" Zorn asked, addressing Wong.

Wong looked at me for the answer. I counted on my fingers.

"Vangie and Ina. Twelve people in the classroom. Minus me. Thirteen all together. My sisterin-law went home a little after six."

"We'll need to talk to everyone," Zorn said. "I'll need your sisterin-law's number." Even though I felt like I had his attention, his eyes never stopped moving. That was a neat trick. He was processing the scene in front of him. Me standing by the steps of my shop. Mrs. Unites with the other homicide detective standing near the back door of the burrito place. The dead man between us.

I said. "I'd be happy to give you that. Do you think my class will be able to continue?"

I knew as I said it, it wasn't possible. The noise level out here was getting louder as more police personnel arrived. The alley ran alongside the classroom. Even with the windows closed, pretty soon everyone would know what was going on. I would have to tell them.

He didn't answer me. "Who do these cars belong to?" Zorn pointed to the QP parking lot.

I took inventory. My car was out on the street in front of Ina's. Our policy was to leave the parking lot open. "The students. They park out here and come in through the back door. They're carrying a load-sewing machines and all their class supplies."

He was watching my face closely. The man never seemed to blink. "What time was that?"

"Class started at six."

"You're saying there was a lot of activity out here just before six?" he continued.

The shift in his tone of voice was subtle, but I knew the interrogation had begun. "Yes. No, wait, I don't really know. I stayed in my office until the last possible moment." I decided not to mention that I'd been talking to Buster. Cops were as territorial as those Discovery Channel meerkats. "I got to class just as it was starting. One student was late."

Officer Wong had his notebook out, and was writing down what I said, but Zorn was asking the questions. He seemed confident in his memory. "Who was late?"

"I think his name is Tim Shore. Would you like a copy of the class list?"

He nodded. "That would be helpful, with their contact information. In fact, why don't you give me that information for everyone who was here today, say, after three o'clock?"

Wong said, "There's no telling what people saw. We need to know if anyone saw him, and how he was behaving just before he died."

Zorn cast the eager-beaver Wong a look that shut him up.

"Why in my alley?" I swallowed hard. I hated playing the victim, but I really wanted to cry out pitifully, why me?

He narrowed his eyes at me. "That's right. Seems like a funny place to die, don't you think?"

I swallowed my self-pity. I knew better than to go there with a homicide detective. I ignored his attempt to engage me in speculation.

I put on a brisk tone, signaling the end to this casual chat. "There's coffee inside, and you're welcome to use my kitchen." I knew they would need a place to talk to witnesses.

Zorn nodded. "Officer Wong, go, set me up. I'll want to chat with everyone one at a time. Let's keep them from talking to each other." He walked over to his partner, who was questioning Mrs. Unites.

I headed back inside the store. Wong followed me. The smell of brewing coffee wafted out.

I'd only gotten a few feet inside when the classroom door slammed against the wall so hard it bounced. I jumped back, stepping on the policeman's heavy black shoe and throwing myself off balance. Wong steadied me until I got myself upright. Ina came out of the classroom, eyes flashing.