Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 03 - The Great Chocolate Scam (5 page)

“
Oh, yeah.”

“
At your house?”

“
Oh, yeah.”

“
For the night?”

“
At least.”

“
I don’t like that. They may be imposters.”

“
Yeah, that’s possible. I don’t really care.”

He gave a long sigh.
“His former wife and son who came into the station today may be imposters too.”

“
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Marissa said when I hung up, “but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.” I resisted the urge to tell her that polite manners dictated when you accidentally overheard something, you were supposed to pretend you hadn’t. I didn’t think Marissa would be interested in learning manners at that late date. “Who is Bryan and what property are you talking about giving back to him?”

I really wished s
he’d sit there and be quiet and give me a chance to wrap my brain around this latest news. An ex-wife? A son? I’d learned more about Rick in the twenty-four hours since his death than in the eight years I was married to him. But I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind and explained the Bryan situation to Marissa.

“
So this was a piece of property Rick bought as an investment?” She’d gone from simpering lady to shrewd real estate investor.

“
I suppose. I really don’t know any of the details. If it was up to me, I’d sell the property back to Kollar’s family, but it’s probably going to be up to you what you do with it.”

She nodded.
“I’d like to find out what Rick planned to do with it.”

“
We may never know.” That should keep her up half the night.

She smiled.
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find something. Did he have a computer?”

“
He had a laptop he took everywhere with him. It probably got blown up in the explosion.”

She pondered that. Her smile slipped briefly but then returned.
“When we get into his house, we’ll find out.”

I had a feeling if she could
n’t figure out what Rick had planned to do with the property, she’d come up with an alternative plan for it, one that would bring her a lot of money and leave Bryan’s parents sucking wind.

After what seemed like an eternity of trying to make small talk with Marissa, I was rescued by
Trent’s arrival with a pizza. I greeted him at the door. “Thank goodness you’re here.”

“
Are you that hungry?”

“
No.”

Henry appeared like a ghost from out of the gathering dusk and strolled inside with Trent.

I shut the door behind the two guys and turned to my uninvited guests. “This is my boyfriend,” I said, no longer caring if the Malone/West/Parker contingency thought I had been immoral by seeing another man while still legally tied to their worthless son and brother. “Marissa Malone, Clint West, Brad Parker, this is Adam Trent. Detective Adam Trent of the Pleasant Grove Police Department.” I’d told them a friend was coming with pizza. I waited until he got there to tell them he was a cop so we could observe their initial reactions together. That’s what romance is all about, sharing the little things.

Marissa paled, but still managed a smile. The boys rose to shake hands. Trent set the pizza on the coffee table and accepted their hands in turn. We were all so polite.

I went to the kitchen and returned with Cokes, paper plates and paper towels.

“
Are you investigating my son’s murder?” Marissa asked.

“
Not officially,” Trent replied.

Because of his relationship with me, he
wasn’t officially involved, but I knew he was smack dab in the middle of it. Marissa didn’t need to know that information.

We ate pizza in silence for a few minutes. Henry sat in the corner of the room, watching every movement, occasionally switching his tail. He takes his guard cat duties seriously. Or he was waiting for somebody to drop a bit of pizza. Whatever.

After everybody set their empty plates and Coke cans on the coffee table, I rose to gather them up and take them to the kitchen, but Trent stopped me. “I’ll do that. You brought it all in. You just sit there and relax.”

He put the plates and napkins inside the empty box then carefully picked up all the Coke cans by the bent tabs, set them on the box and took everything to the kitchen. I knew what he was doing.
I’d been a cop’s almost-girlfriend long enough to know a few things. He’d take the cans in and have them fingerprinted, find out exactly who we were dealing with.

He came back and resumed his seat in the arm chair.
“So you folks drove in from St. Louis?” he asked. He was doing the Mr. Stone Face cop thing. I felt a happy tingle. Mama and the boys were in trouble.

“
Yes,” she said.

“
Just got in town today?”

“That’s
right.”

“
What part of St. Louis do you live in?”

Marissa shifted slightly on the sofa.
“We don’t exactly live there right now. We move around a lot.”

“
Demands of your job?”

“
Yes, we have a small real estate company, and we move from town to town depending on the availability of properties.”

Aha! No wonder Rick was so good at what he did.
He’d learned it growing up in the family business.

I suspected Mama and the boys moved from town to town in order to avoid being lynched after they scammed somebody.

“When did you get to Kansas City?”

It suddenly dawned on me that Trent was trying to determine if she had an alibi for the time of the murder! Well,
he’d asked me. Why shouldn’t he ask her?

Marissa
wasn’t new to this game. She gave him a crimped smile. “We got here just after noon today. As I said, we drove in from St. Louis. We were staying with friends there who’ll be happy to verify that we were with them all day yesterday.”

Trent nodded.
“I see. Ever been to Crappie Creek?”

For anyone not familiar with fish,
it’s pronounced croppy, not crappy, but I think either pronunciation is appropriate for that small, desolate town in southern Missouri.

Marissa flinched when he said the name. S
he’d obviously been there. For a moment she said nothing as if deciding whether to lie or tell the truth. I had no doubt if she hadn’t known Trent was a cop, she’d have opted for lying. Finally she gave a broad smile. “Of course I’ve been there. All my boys were born there.”

Rick had claimed various cities as his place of birth—Dallas, New York, London, Los Angeles, Houston—but Crappie Creek had never made the list. I almost regretted that Rick was dead. I would have loved to be able to throw all these new-found truths in his face, confront him with his lies.

I tried to share a
gotcha
glance with Trent, but he kept his gaze focused on his target. “Did you know Grace Ganyon when you lived in Crappie Creek?”

Red crept up
Marissa’s neck and suffused her face. Her jaw tightened though she never lost her smile. It just began to look more like a grimace than a smile. “It’s a small town. Everybody knows everybody. Of course I know Grace.”

“
And her son Rickie?”

Marissa gave up her attempt to appear amiable. She glowered.
“That boy is not Rick’s son.”

Well. She certainly knew about the boy!

“But Rick and Grace were married when the child was born?” Trent asked.

“
Married?” Marissa snorted. “That’s what she told people, but my son would never marry trash like her, and that boy is not his.” Marissa tilted her nose upward as if in scorn.

Trent folded his arms and studied her quietly for a few moments.
“They’re planning to move into Rick’s house too. Good thing there are five bedrooms.”

Marissa shot to her feet.
“I refuse to let that woman stay in my son’s house!”

Trent shrugged and looked at me. He was still being Mr. Stone Face, but his eyes were glowing with green sparks. He was enjoying this.
“Actually, it’s not up to you who stays in Rick’s house. Lindsay’s name is on the title of that house. Until her husband’s estate is settled, she’s in charge of what happens to it.”

Marissa sat back down and smiled at me.

I returned her smile, and mine was genuine as I contemplated what fun it would be to put Rick’s mother, brothers, ex-wife and possible son all together in his house. I’d have to go for a visit. Take a video. Share it with Fred and Paula. Maybe post it on the Internet.

Trent rose.
“I’d better be going. I know how early Lindsay has to get up. It was nice to meet you folks. Lindsay, could I trouble you for a couple of cookies to go?”

He followed me to the kitchen where he waved a hand at the empty Coke cans.
“I didn’t want to alert them to what I’m doing. Have you got a bag I can hide these in?”

I gave him a white plastic grocery store bag.
“You don’t think they’ll be suspicious when your sack of cookies rattles?”

He grinned.
“I’ll tell them they’re stale cookies.” He started out of the kitchen then turned back, his expression serious. “You probably need to hire a lawyer to get Rick’s estate straightened out.”

“
I suppose so. Maybe Dad will step in. They have a probate lawyer at their firm. Dying isn’t as disreputable as getting a divorce.”

“
That would be good. If I were you, I’d request a DNA test on the son.”

“
We’ll see. As long as I get what’s mine, I don’t care if the rest of his estate goes to some alcoholic bum living under a bridge.”

“Marissa’s
going to fight that boy’s claim.”

“
If that really is his son, I guess he’s entitled to something. Rick didn’t pay any child support. At least, not that I know of. Heck, I don’t know anything about what he did or who he was.” I gave a resigned sigh. “Okay, I’ll talk to a lawyer and get all that stuff set up.”

Trent said good night to Mama and the boys, and I walked out on the porch with him. He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a long, delicious kiss. I melted against him. Well, almost. Even though it was dark and there was no way Rick could be watching even if it
wasn’t dark since he was dead, when some animal rattled in the bushes I gasped and jumped back, searching the shadows for signs of Rick-head.

Trent smiled, but his gaze darted around involuntarily. He shared my paranoia.
“As soon as you get rid of your house full of company—” He finished the sentence with another kiss.

The critter in the bushes made a hissing noise as if objecting to our embrace. Which, I told myself, was not possible. I was pretty sure the wild animals did
n’t care if I kissed Trent.

“
Possum,” I said. “I’ll turn Henry out and he’ll take care of it. Then tomorrow—” I gave him what I hoped was a seductive smile.

“
Tomorrow.”

He left and I went back inside to spend the night with Mama and the boys.

The next morning I dashed into the kitchen at Death by Chocolate thirty minutes late. Paula was already up to her elbows in cinnamon roll dough. “I’m sorry,” I said, setting my purse down and preparing to make chocolate at record speed.

“
I was getting worried,” she said, sprinkling sugar and cinnamon onto her sheet of dough.

“
I just couldn’t get those people moving. Took Mama half an hour to put on her makeup. I really think they believed if they dallied long enough, I was going to let them stay there all day. Like Henry would have tolerated that.” I tied an industrial strength apron over my jeans and tee-shirt and scrubbed my hands in the big sink. “You should have heard Brad whine when the hot water ran out before he finished his shower! That kind of made it all worthwhile.”

“
You should have told him there was plenty of hot water at the Motel Six down the street.”

I laughed.
“They ought to be able to get in Rick’s house today, and I’ll be rid of them. And you’ll never guess who else is going to be staying in Rick’s house. His ex-wife and son!”

Paula’s
jaw dropped, and she stopped halfway through rolling up the cinnamon dough. “Ex-wife? Son? Rick was married before? He has a son?”

I brought out my mixing bowl and prepared to begin the chocolate.
“Well, Marissa says they weren’t really married and that the boy isn’t Rick’s, so who knows what the truth is? We’ll see. I’m going to call Dad and see if he can set me up with a probate lawyer so we can get everything straightened out. Probably need to get a DNA test on the boy. If Rick left a Will, this is going to get even more interesting. If he did, I’m sure none of those people are in it and all of them will challenge it.”

Paula went back to rolling up the dough.
“You ought to get DNA tests on all of them.”

I shrugged.
“I have no doubt that woman is really Rick’s mother, and those boys look an awful lot like him. But I might insist on tests for everybody just for fun if they keep annoying me.”

“
Where are they now?”

“
I have no idea. I drove here as fast as I could, hoping they wouldn’t follow me.”

She gave me a skeptical look.
“They found you yesterday.”

And they found me again that day. A few minutes after we put up the
Open
sign, Mama and the boys came in and seated themselves at a table near the window.

I fed them and resisted the urge to present them with a bill. How tacky would that be? But I was tempted.

The breakfast crowd thinned, and Paula and I began preparations for lunch. I was making Cookie Dough Cheesecake Bars, and Paula was chopping ham when the kitchen door burst open.

“
Can I help you do something?” Marissa asked cheerfully.

I cringed at the mere thought of her being involved in our food.
“No, thanks,” I said. “We’ve got it all under control.”

She stepped further into the room, letting the door close behind her.
“Are you sure? You’ve done so much for us, we’d just like to help you. I’ve worked in a restaurant before. I could chop things like she’s doing.”

Chop things like s
he’s doing?
I looked at Paula. She froze, her sharp chef’s knife poised in mid-chop. I could tell from her expression that she was visualizing Marissa’s head on her chopping block in place of the ham.

“
Nobody but employees allowed in the kitchen,” I said. “Department of Health rules. You and the boys help yourselves to more coffee, and I’ll call and check on the status of that awful yellow tape around Rick’s house just as soon as I get a chance.”

She smiled.
“If you’re sure…”

“I’m
sure.”

She turned to leave, and I heard the bell over the
front door jingle, signaling someone leaving or arriving.

“
I’ll get it,” I said, setting down my cocoa and following Marissa out front.

Bryan Kollar beamed from across the room. Great. He and Marissa could have a phony smile contest.

“Brought those papers by.” He held out a large brown envelope.

I recalled quite distinctly telling him during our phone conversation of the night before that I did
n’t want him to do that. However, suddenly I saw a way to get rid of two annoying pests with one swat.

“
Bryan, this is Marissa Malone, Rick’s mother.” Let them bug each other and leave me out of the loop. “She’s probably the one you need to talk to about buying that piece of property from Rick’s estate. She’s probably going to inherit it, not me.”

He turned on a dime and focused all his charm on her. She radiated that charm right back. We were into severe charm overload, and
they’d only just met.

“
Marissa,” he said, slipping the envelope under his arm so he could take her hand between both of his. “I had no idea Rick’s mother would be so beautiful. I’m delighted to meet you.”

“
Bryan Kollar,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you. I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you in person.”

“Let’s
sit down and talk.”

Together they moved to a table on the far side of the room from where Brad and Clint lingered over their coffee, watching their mother intently. Studying their craft?

I took coffee to Marissa and Bryan. I’d like to say I did it to be polite, but I actually did it to be annoying. If Bryan thought my cookies were poison, he probably didn’t indulge in caffeine, either. I just wanted to see how far he’d go in his efforts to lay a con job on Marissa.

When I came out to write the specials on the big chalk board, all four of them were gone. Bryan had
n’t drunk his coffee. At least he was consistent in his dietary habits.

*~*~*

After the lunch crowd had cleared out and Paula and I got the place cleaned up for the next day, I called Trent.

“
How’s the removal of that awful yellow tape going?” I asked. “Rick’s place ready for his family members to have a big reunion? The sooner we get them out of my place, the sooner you and I can play games there.” I thought I’d give him a little extra incentive to get rid of the crime scene tape.

“We’ve
run into a little problem.”

My heart sank. I did not want to hear about a problem, no matter how little.
“What kind of a problem?”

“
Did Rick have a girlfriend?”

“
Probably. He usually did. Why? Do we have somebody else who wants to move in his place? There’s a Motel Six just a few miles away.”

Trent cleared his throat.
“We need another day with the house.”

“
No!” A collage of images from the past twenty-four hours flashed through my mind…the boys snoring in my living room, Marissa hogging the bathroom, strange people staggering around everywhere. “I need possession of Rick’s house much worse than you do!”

“
Sorry. Not yet. Kick those people out. Send them to a motel.”

“
They’re Rick’s family!”

“
Since when does that matter? You don’t owe Rick’s family anything.”

“
No, I don’t owe them anything. I didn’t mean that. I just mean they’re like Rick. I’ll do my best to send them to a motel, but they’re very difficult to get rid of.”

“
Well, you’re going to have to figure out something. We’ve found female remains in the wreckage of Rick’s car. We need to identify who died in that car with him, so that means we’re going to be spending more time in the house.”

I flinched at that news.
“Damn. Dating Rick is enough punishment for any woman. Really sucks that dating him got her killed. You have no idea who it is?”

“
So far we haven’t found anything in the house that would identify her. We’re checking missing persons reports. I was hoping you might have some idea.”

“
I figured that was why he wanted the divorce all of a sudden, because he had somebody, but I have no idea who it was. Do you think she might be the reason he was killed? Maybe she was married and her husband killed both of them.”

“That’s
possible.”

“I’m
glad I have an alibi so you can’t think his estranged wife killed both of them.”

“I’m
glad too.”

I was
making a joke. Trent sounded way too serious.

We hung up and I returned my phone to my purse.

“Did you lock the front door yet?” Paula asked, coming up beside me.

“
No, not yet. Getting ready to do that right now.”

“
Still have your guests tonight?”

“
They’re gone for the moment. Maybe they’ll decide to get a motel with unlimited hot water.” I crossed the room to the front door.

A small boy who looked as if
he’d sprung straight out of the pages of a Dickens’ novel looked through the glass at me with large, soulful brown eyes. A shock of dark hair fell over his forehead, completing the image. I resisted the urge to grab a handful of cookies and give them to him. Probably not a good idea. All those legal liabilities. I opened the door to tell him we were closed.

“
Did you kill my daddy?” he asked.