Plateful of Murder (10 page)

“No more calls. I’ll pay you the balance if you’ll drop this case. It’s not right you risking your life.”

Biting my tongue stopped me from screaming, “Okay!” It was now impossible to drop this case. First, my sense of right versus wrong wouldn’t let me. “I can’t.”

His look of disbelief mixed with annoyance made me realize Michael needed a more sensible explanation than my just channeling John Wayne. “What if the caller doesn’t realize I’ve dropped the investigation and kills me anyway?”

He rose and began to pace. “Claire, you shouldn’t go on with this. It’s too dangerous.” He halted and squatted next to me, clasping my upper arms tightly. “We could find a way to let the killer know. Please.”

“How? Rent out a billboard saying I’m off the case?”

Despite my sarcastic response, the idea took root in my mind. That is, until my conscience butted in. If the killer went on to murder someone else, my guilt would be unbearable. “Can’t give up yet, Michael. It won’t be as dangerous if I work closer with the police. They’ll keep me safer.”
Sure, about as safe as confronting an angry grizzly with a water gun.

He turned away, hiding his reaction, but when he faced me again, he blew out a breath. “We don’t have to discuss it this minute, because…” A mischievous smile appeared. “Couldn’t sleep so I made chocolate apricot oatmeal cookies. Let’s have some. Then we can talk.”

I’m usually of the belief cookies cure anything, but doubted even they would make me feel better. Maybe the apricots might even catch in my constricted throat. Michael insisted the cookies, eaten slowly, were safe.

He thoughtfully handed me a glass of wine instead of the expected coffee or milk. “Here, drink this. I do believe white goes well with cookies.” He placed a plate of the baked goodies near me and sat down. “You should spend the night here.” He grabbed a cookie. “I mean, in the guest room.” He looked down at his hands and I could swear he blushed. “Unless you’d rather…”

While it was tempting to find out where ‘rather’ might lead, I had enough to deal with. “The guest room would be fine.” My glass stood empty. It was 2:00 in the morning and my eyelids drooped. The wine had done its job.

Michael yawned, “Want a refill?”

I shook my head, stood up and stretched. “I’ve kept you awake too long. How about we both get some sleep?”

He showed me to the guest room and handed me an extra blanket, a travel toothbrush and toothpaste. The man was definitely prepared for guests.

“Appreciate it, Michael.”

He waved away my thanks. “It’s my fault you’re in danger. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

I placed my hand flat on his chest and could feel his heartbeat. “I’m not.”
Why couldn’t we have met at a party, or been introduced by a friend?

His heart sped up a bit more and he smiled. “You don’t have to stay in the guest room.”

We embraced. Despite my being so petite, and him 6’, we fit well together. Before our bodies got too comfortable though I stepped back, wished him a goodnight, and closed the door behind me, knowing that was the smart thing to do. He was my client and for now, that was all he could be.

Fear and panic from this evening sapped everything out of me. Without some rest my foggy brain would be useless. Plus, the faster this case got wrapped up, the sooner I could act on my baser instincts.

My last waking thought was about going to the police station and then back to my office for Ed’s phone number.

I woke up after a short, restless sleep and realized it was 4:30 in the morning. There was one new message on my phone. My stomach felt like it had shriveled to the size of a prune and the wine tasted sour in my mouth. I grabbed the towel and toothbrush and headed to the bathroom, willing myself not to check my messages yet. But curiosity overcame my sense. I should have listened to my sense.

“This is Detective Corrigan. It’s really late, or early, depending on your point of view. Anyway, I’ll be in touch.”

What was that about?
His voice was almost friendly, except for the part about being in touch, which could’ve been a threat.

After dressing, I opened the bedroom door and tiptoed out. Since Michael didn’t appear to be up yet, I scribbled a note to thank him and promised to call him later in the day.

My eyes struggled to stay open on the way to my office. Once I arrived, I collapsed onto the loveseat. Not the most comfortable piece of furniture, but with exhaustion such as this, even a bed of nails would have suited me.

About flipping around for the past forty minutes or so, I finally resigned myself to starting the day.

First order of business was a cup of tea, with the hope that the caffeine would boost my energy level. Then on to my notes on Constance’s murder. Eagleton still got my vote, but his wife, or John Luther, Constance’s final lover, merited closer looks. I wondered if it was too early to call Ed. What did he do at night anyway? Shoot pool? Attend cock fights? No time for humor with Constance’s murderer still loose. For Michael’s sake and my own safety, finding the killer superseded everything else.

On the last sip of tea, my promise to visit Detective Corrigan came back to me. I added that to my list of need-to-do’s. But it wasn’t at the top.

My office phone rang, startling me. “Hello?”

“Claire? Ed here. Meet me at the Owl Diner. It’s one street over from Triton, on Detroit. Got some juicy stuff you need to hear.”

I pulled an errant hair out of my mouth. “How did you know to call the office?”

“Lucky guess.” He paused, and I could picture him with a smirk on his face. “How about it? Say in an hour?”

My stomach growled, reminding me my last meal had been one cookie. I didn’t feel hungry but Ed’s information might whet my appetite. “See you there.”

So much traffic on a Saturday
. It took me a while to get there, plus I didn’t see the place and drove by it twice. Turned out, the Owl was a hole-in-the-wall greasy spoon with ripped pleather booths and waitresses who called you Hon. I hurried in; Ed had already dug into a plate of enormous pancakes.

He waved his loaded fork at me. “About time you got here. Want some cakes?” He called to the waitress.

His butter and syrup-laden pancakes looked delicious, but I wasn’t up to that. “A cinnamon bagel. No butter or cream cheese.”

He grimaced. “Jeez, no wonder you got no meat on your bones.”

Obviously, the man was delusional. “What’ve you got for me?”

He shoveled in a bite and with his mouth full, mumbled, “Mallorie’s dead.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” I raised an eyebrow. “But how did you find out?”

He pushed away his plate and burped into his hand. “Cops came around, snooping. Must have been about 6:30 or 6:45 last night. Anyway, they questioned everyone still at Triton. They also wanted to know who wasn’t at work and should’ve been.”

“And?” He had to have more information than that.

“And…” He stuck his tongue between his teeth and sucked. “Eagleton left early yesterday. So did his go-for, Sean.”

My spine straightened. “Do the police know?”

He looked at me like I’d asked him what a bear does in the woods. “You kiddin’ me? Course they do. I told ‘em.”

“But you don’t like cops.”

“Someone had to tell them. Might as well have been me. Lots of people noticed them gone. Maybe now the cops will really put the screws on and Eagleton will slip, you know?” He leaned back a little and squinted at me. “You’re not lookin’ so healthy. Like real pale.” He glanced around the restaurant. “Hey, how’d you know about Mallorie so soon?”

I gave him the rundown of the previous night’s events, including that frightening call. But, not wanting him to think I crossed to the other side, left out calling Corrigan. My description must have whetted his appetite because he drew his plate back, slowly pouring more syrup on what was left of his breakfast. If he didn’t say anything soon, I’d fall asleep, with my bagel as a pillow.

He recapped the syrup bottle. “So that’s why you look like hell.”

“Thanks for the compliment.” I leaned forward and hissed, “I happen to be trembling in my suede boots.” There was more to my feelings than that. Slowly, my anger revealed itself and I slapped my palm against the Formica table. “You know, whoever killed Constance and Mallorie wants me out of the picture. So I’m staying in.”

Ed ran his tongue over his lower teeth and smiled. “Atta girl.”

The waitress sauntered over, “You two finished?” We nodded and she dropped off the bill. I reached out, but Ed grabbed it. “After the night you had, the least I can do is buy you a bagel.”

When we stepped outside, he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “It’s time we rattled Sean’s cage. I’m guessing he ain’t got it in him to kill someone, but he knows something.”

“Maybe so, but shouldn’t we wait to see what the police turn up?” I regretted the question as soon as it came out. It made me sound timid, hesitant, not a good thing. For us to work together well, Ed had to stop thinking of me as a little lost girl, so I added, “But it’d be better if we figured it out on our own.”

Ed nodded his approval. “Got that right.” He pulled a thick metal ring full of various keys and dangled them in front of me. “Bet we could learn a lot about Sean and Eagleton just by seeing what they have in their offices.”

The gleam in his eyes worried me. He actually enjoyed this, while my head pounded as soon as he jangled that mess of keys. “What if someone sees us?” My voice went so high, I’m surprised dogs didn’t come running. “Plus, Triton is off limits to me, remember?”

Ed looked sideways at me. “First, it’s Saturday. You actually think management works Saturday mornings? Besides, it’s no biggie to turn off the security cameras.” He shook the keys once more. “Come on. We’ll be in and out. We’ll take my car in case anyone does come in. We don’t want that extra trouble.”

I began to sweat and wished for some deodorant. “All right. Let’s make it quick.”

I fidgeted all the way over while Ed sang along to his old timey country music. By the time he screeched his last yodel, my head threatened to break into two pieces.

We made it into the research and development department without incident. I took Sean’s smaller office and Ed headed to Eagleton’s. My headache finally settled down to a hard pound, but my mouth was dry enough to plant cactus. I worked fast, considering how bad my hands shook. Good Catholic girls didn’t ransack offices that weren’t theirs. If we found something, would stealing it still be a sin?

In spite of risking a nervous breakdown, my search proved fruitless. Before I could let Ed know, a woman’s righteous voice rang out.

“Ed Horwath. What are you doing in Mr. Eagleton’s office?”

That bagel threatened to make a return appearance as I ducked behind Sean’s bookcase and tried to make myself as small as possible. Bad enough Ed got caught. She’d call the police on me for sure.

His voice boomed. “Good morning to ya, Tara. I was just checking to make sure the cops didn’t mess up Mr. Eagleton’s office too much last night.”

Tara’s tone indicated she didn’t believe him. “You shouldn’t be in there without Mr. Eagleton.”

Ed purred, “Well you might be right about that. Only just got here when you saw me, but I’ll be on my way. You have a good day, Tara.” He whistled as he walked away.

Oh, good God,
Ed. Don’t you dare leave me here.
I shivered, picturing myself arrested and strip searched. My wrists could almost feel the cold, steel handcuffs around them.

I
t seemed like an hour passed, but it was probably more like ten minutes. My bladder, though, didn’t know the difference. I cursed the tea at the restaurant, and shifted from foot to foot. When that didn’t work I imagined being surrounded by an arid desert. Useless. If something didn’t happen soon, there could be a puddle on Sean’s carpet.

From the sound of it, Tara was now at her desk in the outside office, closing drawers and hitting computer keys. A full bladder was bad enough, but then my left leg fell asleep. I tried to move it and tipped over, knocking my head against a massive Physician’s Desk Reference manual. It tumbled off the shelf but I caught it, bending my fingers way back and ripping fingernails. A business card slid out from the middle of the tome. “Biologic Solutions, Inc., George Workosky, RPh, V.P. Research & Development.”

The guy’s phone number and email address followed. On the back someone, probably Sean, had written, “Cafe Palermo, 6:00 Friday night.” Meaning, Sean and Eagleton must have been there last night
.
Being without a pen, my only option was to memorize the outsider’s contact information.

With my eyes closed, trying to imprint the numbers on my brain, I didn’t hear the approaching footsteps. But the loud intake of startled breath did get through to me.

“What are you doing here?” Tara stood there, feet apart, clutching a letter opener.

Jumping up so fast caused me to totter, and I grabbed onto the bookshelf to steady myself. The overloaded piece of furniture toppled over, diverting Tara’s attention long enough for me to come up with the most absurd excuse ever. “Sean told me to come by and pick up a book he told me about.” I inwardly cursed my lack of imagination.

She scowled. “You expect me to believe that?” She puckered her lips and her eyebrows lowered. “Wait a minute. You’re that private detective who came snooping around after Constance died.”

I forced myself to smile like a politician and stuck out my hand. “You’re right. Glad to see you again, Tara.”

She ignored my hand. “Did Ed let you in? He should be fired. I’d call security on you, but today, that’s Ed. Maybe I should call the cops on both of you.”

Oh, crap on a crepe.
I held up my hand. “No! Wait. First hear me out. It wasn’t Ed’s fault. I, I practically threatened him with my mace.” I pulled out the tiny can to demonstrate. “Maybe nobody told you, but Mallorie was murdered on my doorstep. Do you have any idea how scary and upsetting that is? Sleeping is impossible. If I don’t figure this out soon, it’ll make me crazy.” I held my breath. If she didn’t accept this, next up was my natural defense, sobbing and begging.