Pickled (An Alex Harris Mystery) (17 page)

“That’s not all of it. Tell her, Meme.” Theresa nudged my grandmother’s arm.

“Tell me what?” I leaned in to hear Meme over the noise of the pickleball players.

“Now that Humphrey is dead the rumors are flying that Peter and the widow Bryson are hot and heavy. Have been for some time now, according to what everyone is saying. No one knows if Humphrey was on to them or not.”

“Is this Peter guy married?” I asked.

“Used to be. Wife up and left him for some hot shot Wall Street type about thirty years her junior.”

So there was no wife sitting at home that Humphrey could use to blackmail Peter with, that is, if Humphrey had any idea his own wife and Peter were having an affair. But knowing Humphrey the way I was beginning to, he wouldn’t let another man steal some coveted property, let alone his wife, right out from under him without taking revenge. I needed to talk with Peter Gaffney and now was as good a time as any.

I made my way over to where Mr. Gaffney stood, but just as I got there he turned and walked away with one of the Pirates Cove players. They walked across the gym to another court and started playing.

I turned to go back to my seat, but saw Marie Dupre by the water fountain.

“Hi, Marie, do you have a minute?”

Marie wiped her chin on her sleeve. “Hello, Alex. I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“Didn’t you speak to Terry Roder after we talked? About, you know,” Marie lowered her voice, “about the blackmail?”

“No, I didn’t talk to him. Why? Has something happened?”

Marie smiled. “That’s exactly it. Nothing. He didn’t contact me yesterday. He was coming by almost every day for money, but nothing for a couple of days now.”

Another thing John wasn’t telling me. Obviously the police talked to the guy after I told John about Terry Roder’s penchant for blackmail. The police must have put the fear of God in the man.

“I’m glad he’s leaving you alone, but I have something else I’d like to discuss with you. Is Sid here, by the way?”

Marie shook her head. “He’s working. Another storm is heading our way so he’s getting all the plows ready. What did you want to talk about?”

“Norbert Meyer.”

Marie’s face went white. “Why? What did he say?”

“He told me you two talked the night of the supper.”

“Did we? I’m not sure I remember. There were so many people and of course I wanted to make sure I got your calendar.” She started to smile and then changed her mind. “Okay, look. Humphrey knew about Norbert and me. Norbert told me this on Saturday night and said I should be prepared for Humphrey to tell Sid because, well that’s what Humphrey did. I had no idea Humphrey knew about the two of us.” Marie shook her head in disgust. “I begged Norbert to pay Humphrey whatever he was asking for, but he said Humphrey didn’t ask him for anything. Norbert said we should break it off anyway. He felt bad about what he was doing to Sid.”

“So what did you do then?” I asked.

“As soon as I could, I went to talk to Humph and asked him not to tell Sid about Norbert. That’s why we were dancing. He said he wouldn’t say anything as long as I met him down at the beach after the party. Then Sid saw us dancing and all hell broke loose and then you came over.”

“And where was Norbert all this time?”

“I don’t know. After he broke it off with me I didn’t see him again. He may have just left.”

Or maybe Norbert Meyer was just as angry about Marie dancing with Humphrey as Sid had been. Maybe Sid and Norbert dragged Humphrey into the ladies room and shoved a pickle in the man’s mouth just to shut him up, but then things got out of hand. I had no idea, but it was as good a scenario as any of the others I had come up with.

I looked over to where Peter Gaffney was still playing, but it didn’t look like he had any plans to stop in the near future.

I walked back toward my grandmother and sat down and pulled out my iPad. I Googled Shirley Reynolds. A lot of stuff came up about her PI business and I scanned through it, not finding anything untoward. A mixed doubles game was just breaking up. Lester and Phyllis Holt had been two of the players. Lester walked over to his gym bag and pulled out a piece of gum and shoved it in his mouth and then moved over to where a couple of the calendar boys were standing.

I put the iPad back in my bag and walked over to where Phyllis sat and took a seat next to her.

“How are things going?”

Phyllis pulled her thick hair back and secured it with a clip. “Good. Good. I’ve taken the first steps in lining up some tutoring jobs. And Lester is running for the town council unopposed.”

“Humphrey’s death seems to have worked out well for you?”

Phyllis sighed. “I’m not a bad person. I would never wish harm to another, but Humphrey was making my life hell and I could see more trouble coming once the whole election campaign got under way. No matter how many times I met him at the beach, he would sling my past drinking problem far and wide trying to discredit Lester. Or he would pressure me for more, um, things, to keep quiet. I hate the beach. Even sitting in a car you seem to bring home a ton of sand.” She shook her head and a strand of hair came loose. “We didn’t kill the man, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m sorry someone died, really, I am, but Humphrey was not a nice person.”

“Are you sure your husband didn’t know about your meetings with Humphrey? If he did, he might take matters into his own hands.”

Phyllis thought about this for a moment. “In all the time I had my drinking problem Lester never once let me down. He offered to go to counseling, to send me to rehab, and he took over with our daughter when I wasn’t up to it.” Phyllis dabbed at a tear with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “He was beyond patient with me.”

“It sounds like he would do anything for you,” I said.

“He would. Wait, are you implying he would
kill
for me?”

I shrugged and I could see the fear in Phyllis’s face.

“Look, I’m sorry, I have to go. My daughter is picking me up any minute.” Phyllis’ face brightened. “She left work early and we’re going to dinner and a play in New Haven. I have to go home and clean up. Oh, there she is!” Phyllis stood up and walked to the far side of the gym.

I turned to watch her go. There were several people standing by the large double doors obscuring my view. Phyllis squeezed her way through the group and reached out to hug someone and I almost fell off my chair. Phyllis Holt’s daughter was the lovely Suzanne.

As far as Peter Gaffney knew, Humphrey Bryson had no idea about the affair Mr. Gaffney was having with Sophie.

“How can you be so sure?” I asked the very nice looking Mr. Gaffney. “Sophie said all of a sudden Humphrey told her he wanted a divorce. Maybe it was because he found out.”

Peter shook his head of thick silvery-blondish hair. “I don’t think so. If he had, he would have taken revenge on me somehow and tormented his wife, but he didn’t do any of that. He just told her he wanted a divorce. Of course, Sophie had already decided to divorce him a few months ago. She was just getting her ducks in a row. I have plenty of money, but she said that she put up with him for so many years, she wasn’t going without her fair share.”

I thought about this for a minute while I watched Fred chase a ball across the gym. “Why do you think Humphrey wanted a divorce if it wasn’t because he found out about the affair?”

“Who knows? Humphrey was a vicious little man. And the truth is they should have divorced years ago. Probably should have never married in the first place, if you ask me. Sophie told me she thought he was up to something.”

“Like what?”

Peter shrugged. “Most of his money is tied up in property. He wanted to sell some stuff off, but because it’s in both their names he needed Sophie’s okay and she said no. First, they’d take a loss if they sold certain properties now, and second, they get good money from the rents they collect off the properties. She got the impression he needed cash. The weird thing is a while ago we both bid on some property. I won the bid, but I shouldn’t have. Humphrey could have outbid me for those properties and he didn’t. I never expected to get them. He made a show of getting mad that I got the deal, but it was all bluster. I remember thinking then that he must need his cash for something else if he was willing to pass up a great deal like the one I got.

“And you have absolutely no idea what he had planned?”

“None. The logical explanation is he wanted to invest in something, but I have no idea what it could be. We compete for a lot of the same real estate deals in the area and I haven’t heard of anything enticing out there. I don’t think it was real estate, but whatever it was, he didn’t want to have to share with Sophie, I’m certain of that, and I think that’s why he wanted a divorce. As soon as he was free, he’d put all of his cash into the deal, whatever it was, and become richer.”

“But why?” I asked. “He had plenty already.”

“Because that’s what he liked to do. Money was power and he loved holding it over people, especially his son. Poor guy. I can’t think of anything worse than having Humphrey Bryson as a father.”

Nothing worse than having Humphrey for a father. I still hadn’t talked with Robert Bryson yet. I mentally added him to the top of my list.

Peter Gaffney said good-bye and I went back to where everyone was sitting.

“Here, take my seat,” Astrid Kaufman offered. “I’ve got to get back to the deli. With the storm headed our way, I’m expecting a big turnout tonight of people stocking up on supplies. Come by if you can. I made several kinds of strudel. I’ll set some aside for you.”

“I don’t suppose you thought of anything else that might help my investigation?” I asked Astrid.

“No, I’m sorry. Just Humphrey being Humphrey. Bragging about his deals, bragging about his art. And always jingling those coins in his pocket. What an irritating man.”

“What about his art?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing much, just that he had some nice pieces he thought might fetch a good price. More bragging. They were probably reproductions he picked up at Aaron Brothers.”

“He told you this?”

Astrid shook her head quickly. “No. Humphrey didn’t exactly share things with me. It’s not like we chit-chatted, God forbid. He was talking with a group of men. They were standing around talking before a game a few nights before the supper. I was waiting for Carl to finish and I overheard them. I mean it was all out in the open. They were by the water fountain and that’s where I was sitting. I don’t know what he planned to sell, he just said some pieces and, the truth is, I don’t know a lot about artsy stuff, so I kind of tuned him out. That’s what most people did with him, tune him out as often as possible.”

“Do you remember who was in the group?” I didn’t know if it mattered, but I would add it to my pile of seemingly useless information anyway, just in case it might have some relevance later.

Astrid looked off into the distance. “My brother was there and Lester and Peter and, I think, another man, but I don’t know his name.” Astrid looked at her watch. “I really have to go. The after-work crowd will be coming in soon. Don’t forget to come by for the strudel.”

“Theresa and I are going to leave, Alex.” My grandmother stood by my side, startling me. “We gotta stop off and pick up Francis. We’re all staying at your parents’ tonight. Mable was worried about me being alone in the storm. You should come by tomorrow. It’s going to be a humdinger and we can stay inside and play games all day.”

“John will most likely be working ,so I’ll have him drop me off in the morning.”

“Great! I’ll have Francis bring her laptop.”

“Laptop?” I asked, wondering what Meme was up to now.

“Sure. She can help you sort out all the clues you got so far. She was a big help on that mahjong case.”

“She’s going to have to help me
find
some clues first.”

I walked Meme and Theresa out to their car and said good-bye.

“Where’re you going now?” Meme called out as I walked away.

“Reinforcements. I think we’re going to need lots and lots of strudel.”

I’ve always loved snow. I love the silence of it. I love the way everything goes quiet. Sounds seem to turn off. Even traffic noise is muted when it snows. And I love the smell. I can always tell when it’s going to snow well before it does because of the scent in the air.

When I was younger there was nothing better than waking up to find that the world—or at least the bit of world outside my bedroom window—was white. And that’s how it was this morning. Our yard and the woods beyond our property were bathed in white powder at least a foot deep.

“I’m going to call Sam and maybe we can stop by and pick her and the kids up, too,” I said to John, who had a large bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee in front of him.

“Are you sure you want to go out in this? It’s supposed to snow all day.”

I kissed the top of John’s head. “I know. That’s the fun part. We’re having a snow party. Dad’s going over to help Michael pull that horrible wood paneling off the walls in the cellar and we women folk will be playing cards and Scrabble and eating.” And sleuthing, but I kept that bit to myself. John had been keeping things from me and I wasn’t so sure how much information I wanted to toss his way at this point, at least without getting something from him in return.

“I’ve got a couple hours of paperwork to do at the station and then maybe I’ll go help Michael. Let me grab some sweats and my other shoes and I’ll be ready to go.”

Thirty minutes later Sam and I, along with Henry and Kendall, marched into my parents’ warm and inviting kitchen. I was loaded down with bags of food, DVDs and books for the kids, and pajamas and toothbrushes in case we had to spend the night.

“How are the roads?” my mother asked as she took a bag from my arms and kissed Henry and Kendall on their cheeks.

“The plows must have come by this morning, but it’s building up again,” I said.