Plateful of Murder (22 page)

I stopped at Breadsmith’s Café to get some iced tea and a chocolate banana muffin handsomely drizzled with more chocolate.

Munching away, the quietness of the café struck me. A smart place to meet with Michael and ask him some questions. Other customers sat at tables so we wouldn’t be alone. I just needed to make sure he didn’t have any opportunity to put anything in my food or drink.

I pulled out my phone and frowned. The battery was dead and my charger was at home. I chugged the tea and walked out chewing the muffin, probably leaving a trail of crumbs of which Hansel and Gretel would approve.

It would only take me a few minutes to get from my office back to the café. I could make the call to Michael from my office land line.

He picked up on the first ring like he’d been waiting for my call.

“Michael, it’s Claire. Sorry about earlier. Just my morning paranoia getting the best of me. Please accept my apologies.” When necessary, I could be a talented groveler.

“You’re forgiven. Now what did Corrigan ask you about?”

“I’ll tell you everything in person. Can you meet me at Breadsmith’s Café at 11:00? It’s at the corner of Westwood and Detroit.” I held my breath, hoping he’d agree. At the same time, my inner safety seeker hoped he’d decline.

“See you there.”

That gave me more than enough time to get back to Breadsmith’s and get us a table away from the counter, but close enough to other tables so customers would hear if I screamed for help. That meant, of course, assuming someone would come to my aid.

Telling Corrigan the plan flitted through my mind, but I decided against it. He’d either try to talk me out of it or insist on joining us. Either way, I wouldn’t find out anything. Anyway, Gino had a rule: “Never let a cop bust into your action.” I hoped in this case Gino was right.

My office phone rang just as I picked up my purse and was ready to go. It was Aunt Lena. The woman had to have a timetable noting the worst possible moments to call. But I had a few minutes and didn’t want to regret not talking to her one last time before my possible demise.

“Hi Aunt Lena.” My tone was as sing-song-y as a teen who’d been asked about their day at school.

I heard a loud harrumph and imagined her exhaling puffs of flour into the air.

“Claire Marie, you’re a grown woman, but that doesn’t give you permission to be out all hours of the night, worrying your family sick.”

I looked to the ceiling. Put me before a firing squad and my aunt would insist I put on a sweater so as not to catch cold. “Sorry. I’ve been working, and let the time slip away. I’ll be more mindful from now on. Promise. Is there anything you need?” I made a circular motion with my hand, like a television producer when he wants the actor to speed his monologue up.

“I’m having your father over for manicotti tomorrow night. You and Michael are invited.”

I rubbed my face. “Nice try, Aunt Lena. But I’ll be coming solo.” Otherwise, we’d be singing West Side Story songs and cutting the manicotti with a circular saw.

She wasn’t to be deterred. “But your father wants him to come.”

Sure he does
. “Sorry. Just not possible.” I checked the time. “Hate to cut this short, but I’ve got an appointment I can’t be late for. What time do you want me there?” We settled on my arriving at 6:00 and hung up.

I’d be cutting it close for my meeting with Michael at Breadsmith’s but could still make it work. Then I heard footsteps stop at my door.

I
didn’t move.
FedEx?
I swore the doorknob took ten seconds to turn. The door creaked open.

“Michael. What’re you doing here?” I failed to keep my voice level, instead sounding like a wolf baying at the moon.

He closed the door behind him. “Your office number showed on my phone. Thought maybe we could talk here first. Alone.”

Everything inside me froze. This was not going according to plan. I coughed to buy some time before responding. “But I’m just starving, and we can eat and talk at the same time.”

Michael strode over to my desk and placed his hands flat down on it. “Let’s talk now, please.” He smiled, but it didn’t soften his expression.

My hands squeezed the seat of my chair so tight, they’d have to be pried off. “Well, it’s settled then. Talk first, eat second.” Would he notice if I dug through my purse for my mace? Of course he would.

Without taking his eyes off me, he pulled up a chair beside my desk. “What happened with Corrigan?”

“They’ve charged Eagleton with your sister’s murder.” Michael’s face went blank and his hands dropped to his sides, limp. “You’re relieved, aren’t you?” I should’ve posed it in a different way, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes, but how did they…rather, why did he do it?”

My explanation didn’t include any mention of the letters. That discussion was for when other people were around. I did explain the police’s angle on Eagleton’s motive.

Michael listened without a sound. When I finished, he sat back and stared at the wall behind me. “Then it’s over.”

“Yes, it is.” I sat quietly for a moment, but he didn’t add anything. My questions still lingered unanswered, but having ignored Corrigan’s advice to get a gun, I refrained from asking them. The wrong answers could be dangerous, and I didn’t want to hear them in a deserted office building. So, onto my ploy. “How about we go to Breadsmith’s now? Something sweet would hit the spot.”

He scratched his chin. “Could we do it tomorrow? I should notify someone about...you know…” His voice drifted off.

My mouth asked before my brain could stop it. “Who?”

His eyes darkened. Their mood didn’t match his off-hand response. “Attorney.”

He stood up to leave at the same time my phone rang. It was Aunt Lena. What else could she possibly want? I held up one finger, as if to ask Michael to wait.

Her voice was sugar. “Hello dear. Just wanted to let you know I found Michael’s phone number and left a message for him to come to dinner with you.”

I wanted to lay my head down on my desk. “Why did you do that?”

She chuckled. “One day you’ll thank me for this.”
Yeah, as they fish my body out of Lake Erie.

When the call ended, Michael said, “I heard. Please don’t be embarrassed. I’d like to come if it’s all right with you.” He paused. “Now that Eagleton’s been arrested, we can move on.”

My fake smile probably made me look more queasy than happy. “Yeah, that’d be great.” A romance with Michael seemed about as safe as holding hands with a grizzly. I chewed my lower lip. “How about I pick you up at 4:30 tomorrow and drive to my aunt’s.” Get to his place early and maybe talk him out of coming to dinner. The thought of him sitting there with my aunt and father made me want to claw out his eyes. What if instead of a bottle of wine, he brings a rope to give a new meaning to hanging around together? Whatever was necessary to stop that from happening, I’d do. Even digging for information without a crowd as a safety cushion.

After Michael left, my stomach felt jumpy like it knew something my brain didn’t. Michael hadn’t said anything about seeing his attorney before I told him about Eagleton. If he wasn’t going there, where was he going?

I squinted at the far wall and it hit me. Ed. Now that Eagleton was in custody, would Ed still have a guard? I would’ve collapsed if I hadn’t been sitting down. My fingers pushed the numbers of Corrigan’s phone as fast as they could. Voice mail. If the devil himself chased me, I couldn’t have made it out the door any speedier.

As in a miracle, every light was green. Ordinarily, I would spend five minutes or so trying to straighten my car in its parking space. This time, crooked would have to do. Rather than wait for the elevator, I dashed up the stairs to Ed’s floor and, panting, speed-walked down the corridor. A uniformed guard sat outside Ed’s room and my heart went back to its normal pace. I slouched against a wall, hands on knees to catch my breath.

My relief, though, was quickly shot through with worry. Where had Michael gone?

I swallowed my guilt for not stopping in to see Ed, but he’d understand. Back at my car, I tried to put the pieces together and formulate my strategy. First, something for my on-again-off-again headache. Leaning over to get some aspirin from my glove compartment, I spotted a man in the next parking lot row over. He flung his car door open like he wanted to rip it off, slid inside, gunned the engine, and sped away. It was Michael.

Adrenalin surged through me, preparing me for the chase. But what would I do if I caught him? Anyway, it was a moot point since that power surge my body felt didn’t extend to my car. It was, as Gino would say, ‘not in primo condition.’ It huffed, coughed, and finally started, but by then Michael was long gone.

I pounded in Corrigan’s number, thinking I needed to put him on speed dial. Damn. Voice mail again. The guy never answered his phone. “It’s Claire. Michael just tore out of Fairview Hospital’s parking lot. I can’t follow him but maybe you can.”

Then it hit me like a bucket of ice water. Was Ed still okay? What if Michael did something to him after I left? I ran back into the hospital, but this time took the elevator since one sat open, ready. A ride to the second floor never seemed so long. I pounded on the elevator button, whispering, “Come on. Come on.”

Tears of relief filled my eyes at the sight of that same cop still sitting placidly in front of Ed’s door. I couldn’t stop myself from showing him my identification and entering Ed’s room.

I stood at the head of Ed’s bed, careful not to disturb the wires and tubes everywhere. “Wake up please, Ed.” With a quick prayer for him to come out of the coma, I returned to my car.

To clear my mind, I leaned my head back against the headrest. Despite Corrigan’s certainty Eagleton did it, to me everything pointed to Michael. He had the opportunity, but his motive remained unclear.

Corrigan had left a voice message for me. “I’m not about to chase after someone because you think they’re up to no good. We’ve got the killer, remember? Anyway if your family issue is taken care of, please get back here and sign off on the assault charge. I’m waiting.”

I didn’t call him back.

My mind circled around and around, remembering my first meeting with Michael, then his confession about the letters, Mallorie’s death, and Ed’s attack. Even without knowing his motive, I’d bet my paltry bank account Michael was guilty.

Besides not knowing where he’d gone or what his motive was, another thing kept me uneasy. Dinner at my aunt’s. Michael could not be a guest. Imagining Aunt Lena asking the murderer to say grace made my heart sick. No matter how the scenario played out, that dinner wasn’t going to happen.

I called Aunt Lena to tell her Michael couldn’t make it after all and since it was just the three of us, I’d take her and Dad to dinner at 4:00. This way no one would be there if Michael showed up on his own. How to pay for this dinner was still a mystery, though.

Aunt Lena picked up on the second ring. “Claire, honey. Got someone on the other line. I’ll call you back.” She hung up before I could say a word. As if it were the phone’s fault, I squeezed and shook it in frustration, took a deep breath and tried my father. It went directly into voice mail.
Doesn’t anyone answer their phones anymore?
Not wanting to spook him telephonically, I didn’t leave a message. My only choice now was to call them both later.

I shifted in my car seat and made a decision, one I’d resisted. But the stakes were higher now. It was looking more like I’d have no choice in where my confrontation with Michael would happen. There might be nobody to come to my rescue, and my family was still at risk. Whatever could have set Michael off to kill Constance was still unknown, but now two people were dead and one was comatose. Despite my dread mixed with anxiety, I left to buy a gun.

In Ohio, I could buy a gun without a permit, so it was fairly easy to do. The harder part was learning how to shoot it. Gino did have a rule about guns: “Only pack heat if you plan to leave the other guy on ice.”

The gun shop owner pointed me in the direction of a shooting range where someone showed me what to do. Annie Oakley I wasn’t. My only hope was I’d never have to use the damn thing.

***

That evening I sat in my car and watched the solitary light that flickered upstairs in Michael’s house. Maybe he was in his study, busy destroying evidence. My nerves had me fumbling as I loaded my gun. I meant to bring back the truth.

I wished Ed was with me. Or Corrigan. That reminded me to put in another call to the detective. He’d probably yell at me, but from the things he’d said, he’d rather lecture me on staying alive. My call went straight to his voicemail. I kept my voice even. “It’s Claire, telling you I’m currently on a stake out at Michael’s.”

I’d been sitting in the dark for about five minutes when the upstairs light in the house went off. The front door opened and Michael stepped out, looked both ways, and went back in, closing the door behind him.

I ducked down fast and held my breath, hoping he hadn’t seen me. He was up to something, that much was clear. I called Corrigan again, but it went to voicemail just like before. “Help!” I yelled into the phone.

It was surprisingly warm outside, but I felt chilled down into my soul. With a deep, ragged breath, I patted the gun in my pocket. Waiting was getting awfully tiresome. Knocking on Michael’s door might shake things up. When he’d ask what I wanted, my gun would get him talking.
Yeah.
S
ure.
Or maybe Corrigan would arrive by then and stop Michael from wringing my neck for pulling a gun on him.

My thoughts continued along that path until Corrigan pulled up beside me and shone a flashlight in my eyes. “What the hell, DeNardo? Do I need to chain you to me to keep you out of trouble?”

Chained together someday may be fine, but not tonight. I hissed, “Michael is up to no good. Wait and see.”

Corrigan turned off the flashlight. “You should have come back to the station to sign the assault charge against Eagleton. But no. You’d rather make a nuisance of yourself out here.” He scowled. “I’m going to escort you home and stay there with you until you’re sound asleep. That’s the only way I can trust you to stay out of trouble.”