Spoiled Rotten (16 page)

“You driving?” he asked.

“Take the badge off for a minute, Winn. I won't be going home for a while yet. I have to clear a few things off my desk. What will you have?”

“I'll have a Scotch straight.”

I walked around the bartender, who busy was washing the old ice down the drain and wiping off the sticky house bottles in the rail, saying I would help myself. We didn't close between lunch and dinner as many restaurants in the area did, but each bartender left his section clean and stocked for the next shift. I poured a refill and two good fingers for the policeman. Winn took a cautious sip and then belted the drink down in one gulp.

“Thanks,” he said, “I needed that.”

“I'm glad you're here, Detective. First, when is my chef coming back? And second, I think Cecilia Vieira may be in danger.”

He looked at me pointedly.

“I'm sorry. You must be getting pretty tired of me interfering by now.”

“Not really, I'm getting used to it. And please, I think you should start calling me David.”

“Deal, I don't know about you, David, but I'm hungry. The chef is making me something special. Why don't we share?”

Our meal, which would cost hundreds of dollars anywhere else, was tailored-made to meet the simple, but satisfying bistro fare Walker's was well-known for. Instead of foams, fusions, and dreaded frisée, we were served old-fashioned rack of lamb, perfectly pink, leaning against a mound of whipped garlic potatoes, drizzled with tarragon oil, and surrounded with a scoop of mint pea mash. Winn looked like he died and went to heaven.

Over coffee, we talked about Daniel and his sister. Winn didn't believe that Daniel had it in him to murder anyone, but he wasn't so sure about Meriel.

“She has admitted that she knew Tony previously. He was a junior salesman for a large outfit in Nova Scotia before he set up shop here. Their mother operated a diner on the coast and he tried to push discounted meat on her.”

“The diner was called The Sea Biscuit,” I informed him.

“That's nice,” he said sarcastically.

I smiled. “You were saying.”

“He sold her discounted meat, the kind that falls off the back of a truck, if you know what I mean? The company caught onto his scheming and attempted to charge him for stealing, but he was young and a circuit judge gave him a slap on the wrist instead. He's had a personal vendetta against the Chapin family ever since.”

“Why blame them, why not the company who fired him?”

“Mrs. Chapin caught Tony cornering her daughter in the fridge locker. She was only sixteen at the time. The father had died the year before and Daniel was just a kid. Their mother was worried about Tony hanging around and complained to the company. This came at the same time they were questioning his integrity. He was fired and no one on the coast wanted to hire him after that. Gossip spreads fast out there, I take it.”

“That's probably when he moved to Toronto,” I said, “and yet I never got the feeling he was crooked. I dealt with him for years.”

“Obviously he learned to be more discreet. He has four other stores spread across Ontario and I think he was planning on widening his operation, and then somehow he found out his new partner was sleeping with his wife and he went berserk.”

“I know that's what Daniel thinks, but I have a feeling there's more to it. Tony might have been jealous, but his reaction to his wife's affair was over the top. I think money was involved and losing his wife was the straw that broke the camel's back.”

“If you're talking about real estate, we are looking into the frequent land transfers that have been occurring in the area in the last year. No ties to Tony yet, but we're working on it.”

“Meriel freaked when Daniel said he was involved in a business opportunity with Anthony Vieira. Daniel wouldn't have been aware of any previous history between them. He was too young. When Daniel started at Twister's, Tony must have recognized the family name. Along with the family resemblance, the two of them are strikingly similar.”

“That's what she told us, too. She knew her brother was in over his head and admits coming to Toronto to confront Tony. She swore she would go to the police if he was involved in anything illegal. She really hated Vieira, but she says he was alive when she left him in the store that night.”

I thought about that. “Meriel wasn't the only one who hated him. It seems he made a habit of hurting the women around him. Maria found him repulsive and it's no secret his wife is happy he's dead. And that reminds me, I think you should keep an eye on her. Cecilia Viera stands to inherit a fortune in property. Maybe someone might find it advantageous to kill her, too.”

“We're keeping a watchful eye; I don't want you to bother her.” I was about to protest, but Winn put the palm of his hand over my mouth. I gave it a big, wet lick. He instantly withdrew his hand and waved it in the air. “Yuck, where'd you learn to do that?”

“I raised a child, and it got your hand off, didn't it? Never do that again and stop telling me what I can and can't do. I asked you before about what properties she inherits. If you know, why don't you tell me?”

“Because you might jump to the wrong conclusion, I like to take things slowly. Now, as I was saying, Andy swears his sister wasn't in the meat store when he arrived that night and found Tony sliced and diced. He does confess he was at the cattle show the day you got struck unconscious. He left after he talked to Martin Wright and asked that he contact you. You know that part, of course. After Daniel loaded the meat and discovered the bloody packages inside, he went home, packed, and booked a flight out east. He didn't leave as quickly as he said he did, though. We know his flight wasn't until four o'clock in the afternoon the next day. This gave him enough time to drop by the convention centre, before you were attacked. He now admits going there to pick up his equipment. When your former employee, Martin Wright told him two guests were taken away to the hospital and the police were involved, he knew he didn't want to hang around.”

“Daniel admitted to me he went back to get his knives. Chefs are very possessive about their tools. Just one of those hollow-edged blades can cost two or three hundred dollars.” I knew in fact the blade was strong enough to cut through bone and muscle. “Do you think it was Daniel who called the cops to fish me out of the Dumpster?”

“No. He says he didn't even know you were hurt. He was gone by then.”

“So who did call the cops?”

“I don't know. But whoever did; they saved your life.”

“Don't remind me.”

Winn asked if we could go to my office and talk privately. The staff was trying not to be nosy, but I felt their eyes on us, too. Following closely behind me up the stairs, he must have been looking at my ass because there wasn't much else to see. With another light blown out in the hall, it was even darker than usual. I fumbled with one of the new locks Rick had installed earlier after the break-in, inviting Winn to push against me, his breath warm on the back of my neck. I managed to open the door before my legs buckled under me. We weren't in the office a second when he pulled me to him. We crossed the floor in unison, me back stepping until my body was pressed against the fireplace. He pushed harder against me, burying his face against my neck, and began kissing my throat. He lifted my hair with one hand, brushing the back of his hand against something and stopped abruptly.

“Where did you get this?” he shouted into my ear. He grabbed Daniel's apron off the mantle.

“David, what's wrong?” I pleaded.

“Where did you get this?” he repeated.

“It's Daniel's. Rick found it in the kitchen and brought it up.”

“We've been looking everywhere for an apron like this. Heavy fibres from a butcher's apron were found in one of Tony's severed hands. This one has been torn precisely as we suspected the missing one would be. We checked all the butcher's aprons for traces of blood and could only come up with animal blood. They were ruled out.”

I saw the tear in the apron. I could see light-coloured threads exposed against the black surface. I was beginning to have doubts about Daniel myself.

“I have to take this to be tested right away. We had the knives in for analysis, but they were clean of human DNA. It looks like your chef might be guilty after all. I bet he's been looking for this, unless he gave it to you to hide.”

“How dare you!” I snapped. “If, he gave me his apron to hide, I wouldn't leave it out here in the open. Rick was wearing it to clean up the kitchen after we were shut down and I was waiting for Daniel to come back to retrieve it. They're expensive to buy, you know.”

Then I remembered the failed burglary attempt. I told Winn about it.

“You're telling me you had this all along?”

“I don't know what you mean by all along. I didn't know you were looking for it. I told you Rick found it downstairs. It doesn't prove Daniel killed anyone. There's no motive, Winn, you said it yourself.”

“It doesn't prove he didn't, either. The connections between you and Daniel are growing. I've asked myself a million times why you would fly out to Halifax to talk to him before the police had a chance. Finding his torn apron up here was one more reason to suspect your involvement. Maybe you two have a history, after all. I told you before I'll charge you with obstruction if you get in my way.”

I started to cry. Blubbering, with big wet tears rolling down my cheeks, I told him to get out.

“What are you crying for?”

“I don't know.”

“Liz, I'm sorry, please calm down. I had no right to raise my voice.” He walked around the desk and took my hand. “I'm tired and I'm this close to solving nothing. I don't know who killed Mr. Tony, I have no idea who poisoned Mr. Albright, and I thought the two persons I have under arrest were not guilty of anything except duplicity. I've got to take this apron in to the lab immediately. I'll call you later with the results.”

I
plopped down on my chair and pushed a pile of bills off to the side of the desk. Putting my head down on the fake wood grain, I replayed the scene before Winn discovered Daniel's apron. Blood was pounding in my ears. I opened my purse, searching for an aspirin, and noticed the white plastic card tucked in a pocket of the lining. Shit, shit, and double shit, I had forgotten all about it. Winn would kill me for not showing him this. The phone rang, and, thinking it was him, I practically jumped on it. Never disappointed to hear my son's voice, I'd still have felt a lot better if it had been Winn.

“Mom, I got that information you asked me for last night.”

“What information?”

“Remember, you came home and asked me to look it up on computer, but I was defragging the hard drive?”

I didn't respond.

“The property records for the City of Toronto. I got the ownership names.”

I perked up. “Oh!”

“There are four properties listed under the ownership names of one Anthony and Cecilia Vieira. Three addresses in a row and one on the other side of the alley. The last address was originally owned by a Mr. Alex Kozinski. It was the first property to change hands. The others have been in the last year.”

“That can't be right. Are you sure?”

“The record says it sold two years ago to the Vieiras. Who's this Kozinski guy?”

“That's Louise Kozinski's father. He started the cheese store over fifty years ago. I assumed she inherited it after her father died.”

“What store are you talking about?”

“The Cheese Emporium, where I get the spicy vegetarian paté you like. Is there anything else?”

“It says it was sold publicly as an estate sale.”

“Isn't an estate sale when the bank sells a property due to a mortgage foreclosure?” I asked rhetorically.

“As a last resort, I think it is. I mean a bank isn't in the real-estate business. If you default for too long in your payments and can't get an extended loan, the bank has no choice.”

“Well, dear, I'm glad you're so sympathetic toward the bank. Wait until you get old and bitter like me.”

“You're not old, Mom. A little bitter, perhaps,” he joked.

“Who will you tease when I'm not around?”

“Are you leaving? Great, I'll have the place all to myself.”

“Be careful what you wish for, sonny. Anyway, I'll be home soon. Tell Andy I'm on my way. And by the way, thanks for not asking.”

“Not asking what?” He was toying with me.

“About Andy. I'm not sure how I feel about him staying at the house. Are you all right with it?”

“Mom, it's your house. And it's your life. You decide.”

“I invited him to the dance contest before I left the house this morning. Are you and Susan interested in going? You might be able to buy tickets at the door?”

“I showed her the flyer. She said she'd rather watch it on the local news. I don't think she likes dancing and apparently it's going to be broadcast live. I think it's sold out, anyway. You're lucky you got tickets. ”

I hung up, wondering how serious he was about the police rookie. Ironic that mother and son were both attracted to the fuzz. Ha, there's a word you don't use anymore, not unless your name is Shaft and you star in a 1970s cop show. I continued to stare at the phone as if it would ring again and tell me more. Ten minutes later I dialled Winn's number, but his voice mail was full. I would tell him about the card at the dance tonight. I figured he'd be there since he knew Inez. It's possible he was trying to get information on Maria by befriending her. He didn't think twice about asking me to help. I easily volunteered, maybe she did, too.

I forgot the Blue Jays were playing a home game. Access to the Gardiner, via the Rogers Centre, was jammed. Greyhound busses, parking queues, and ticket hawkers blocked the roads. I made a U-turn and drove home east, all the way along Queen Street. An unbearably slow drive made worse by traffic lights at every street corner and wayward pedestrians pretending to be pigeons. I got stuck behind a streetcar and wished I could hook my car to it. I didn't want to go to the dance tonight. I wasn't really interested in going anywhere except to sleep, but I didn't want to disappoint Andy, either. A Latin dance competition was sure to make his trip memorable and I felt I owed it to him.

Queen Street stretched east to west, much like Lake Shore Boulevard, except it ran through the city in a straight line parallel to Lake Ontario. The street linked diverse, back-to-back communities, which one could distinctly describe as, rich, middle-class, up-and-coming, poor, and dog-eat-dog.

I made it home to my up-and-coming neighbour-hood in good time. Compared to a weekday, the Saturday rush hour was shortened by half. By the time I reached home, I even managed to talk myself into wanting to see the dance and decided my detective pal should be made aware of my new concerns. I was getting all dreamy-eyed, remembering our romantic interlude before Winn discovered the apron. Hurrying through the front door, my head in the clouds, I made the mistake of not watching where I was going. I fell over a gigantic duffel bag. Words that could peel paint shot out of my mouth, and when I sat up, I found Jon and Andy staring down at me.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Of course I'm okay. What's that stupid bag doing there?”

“Sorry, Liz, that's mine. I got an acting job in New York and I'm leaving on the red-eye express from the island tonight after the show.” I reached out for Andy's hand and he pulled me to my feet.

“Well that explains Elvis's absence.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing — are you sure you want to go to the show?”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world, but I do have to leave right after. I'm already dressed and it's getting late. You better change and we'll head downtown.”

Woe is me and I just got home. In any case, Andy said he'd drive and although I don't trust many people behind the wheel, he had already proved his driving skills back on the east coast. In truth, I loved being a passenger. I got to look at all the pretty lights.

I changed into a black, lacy cocktail dress with a matching bolero jacket, shoved my feet into a pair of satin high heels, and brushed my teeth. Did a twirl in mirror.
Not bad
, I thought. I checked my watch. Now that I was dressed, I had time to call Louise Kozinski. The Cheese Emporium's phone number was filed under “caterers” in my suppliers' directory; Louise made cheese platters for every occasion. Her home number was jotted in pencil beneath.

Following in the wake of the streetcar, I considered the information Jon gave me about her store being sold in an estate sale. Losing the store her father owned and operated for over fifty years must have been unbearable. Louise had to have been nearly bankrupt to be unable to prevent the bank from selling her property. I know she lost her husband to cancer a few years ago and although the government paid for most of the treatment, there were still out-of-pocket expenses. She couldn't earn much in the cheese shop with business steadily declining over the years, thanks to villains like Albright and Tony.

Did she hate them enough to kill them both? I wondered how she felt about Cecilia Vieira now that the properties would be sold and torn down. Louise had probably spent her whole life in the market. I'd be beside myself if I were in her shoes. Although, I had to admit, she looked pretty cool at the meeting after she found out about the impending sale. Then I remembered what had been plaguing me for the last week.

A butcher's apron was hanging on a peg behind the heavy fridge door at the Cheese Emporium. I saw it in there when Louise lifted out the block of cheese for my order. That's why I noticed her maroon jersey dress the morning after Tony's body was discovered. Normally her street clothes would be covered by the protective apron. She only removed it before coming around the deli counter to tempt new customers with a free tidbit. She didn't come around the counter to give me freebies anymore. I had eaten my quota of handouts, so it hadn't been removed it on my account.

The apron was a gift from her late father. She always hung it around her neck when slicing cold cuts or cheese, a valued lesson learned from her father when she was eight years old. Standing by his side, she waited for the paper-thin slices of proscuitto he carefully sliced for a school sandwich, when his cleaver slipped off the bone and punctured his stomach. The day she recounted this childhood memory to me, she gripped the rubber apron with both hands. It had been repaired, too.

I picked the phone up to call Winn at his office. It was no surprise that he didn't pick up. He was probably setting up a firing squad for Daniel and his sister outside in the precinct's parking lot.

I left a message on his answering machine, telling him of my new suspicions.

Louise had the motive, and she had the ability. She was strong, knew how to handle knives, and most importantly, had a butcher's apron just like Daniel's. If her apron was still hanging on the inside of the cooler, then it needed to be tested for blood before it disappeared.

Tony's widow had been released from the hospital and might also be in danger. Louise might have had knowledge that Tony was planning on selling the property she cherished, along with the others on the street. He would have destroyed the only life she had ever known, so she got rid of him only to find out his wife would do the same thing, too. Louise wouldn't have long to go before she was expelled, banished from her childhood home forever.

I was about to give up after six rings when she answered the telephone. She was out of breath. “Hello.”

“Hi, Louise, this is Liz Walker from Walker's Way restaurant. How are you?”

“Considering the market is half dead with no business, not very good. I'm sorry for not being very nice to you at the meeting the other night, but I was upset.”

“That's not why I'm calling, but thanks.”

“I'm not open for business at the moment, either, so I can't fill any orders for you. Besides, I thought you were closed.”

“Walker's is open again. I wanted to ask you something about your store.”

“Like what?” Her voice hinted at annoyance and I knew she wasn't going to like my question, but I had to let her know I was on to her.

“I wondered where you would go when your building was torn down and the condos go in. Maybe Tony's death hasn't worked out for you, after all. Has his wife already given you notice. Is that why you're closed?”

“Who says my building will be torn down? Don't believe everything you hear. Actually, I'm closed because I have a few …”

Before she could answer, I could hear chimes sounding in the background.

“Sorry, there's someone at the door, hang on a minute.”

Louise's footsteps could be heard crossing the floor. I visited her apartment many years ago and was familiar with the layout. There was a living room at the front overlooking the street, two bedrooms in the back, and a kitchen and dining room in the middle. A joint hallway that connected the rooms and the stairs from below opened into the hall through a door that was kept closed to limit the drafts. I heard her open the door and call out, “Who's there?”

Her heavy footsteps sounded hollow as she climbed down the old, wooden stairs leading to the side door. I heard muffled voices and a minute later the voices drew clearer. Louise had company. She picked the phone up and said, “Sorry, Liz, I have to go. You'll never guess who's dropped in. Cecilia Vieira is here.” And she hung up.

I talked Andy into driving over to Kensington before we went to the dance. Although this would make us late for the opening ceremonies, I wanted to make sure Mrs. Vieira was safe. I didn't want any blood on my hands. Winn's cellphone was turned off and he still didn't answer at the station. I was thinking the guy should own a restaurant; he was harder to get in touch with than me.

It was just after eight o'clock and the market was closed up tight. I could see lights shining in the upstairs apartments over a few of the shops, but not Louise's. Her front drapes were open, allowing me to see that the front room inside was dark. When I asked Andy to wait in the car, he said, “No way, not this time,” and accompanied me closely, very closely, down the narrow passage leading to Louise's private side entrance. Three feet in, we couldn't see a thing, making it necessary to feel our way along the brick wall with our hands. My eyes adjusted and I detected a faint glimmer outlining a door. Andy saw it, too, and nudged me ahead. We had almost reached it when a security spotlight was triggered, blinding us with bright light. I yelped and jumped backward, banging into Andy's chest. He laughed out loud, holding me tightly around the waist.

“Shhh,” I said, easing out of his grip.

“You're the one who screamed,” he whispered back.

“Never mind, look at this.” I pointed out that the aluminum screen door was partly open and a half-torn flyer was stuck in the frame.

“What is it?”

“It's a Toscano's flyer like the ones I saw Maria with at the hospital.”

Andy knocked on the inside door and it swung open easily. He stepped inside a small foyer at the bottom of the stairs and I could tell he was listening. He knocked harder.

“I don't hear anything. Should we go up?” he asked.

“I don't know. The door shouldn't be open like this. Let's check it out just in case.”

Upstairs was quiet except for the ticking of an enormous grandfather clock that greeted us in the central hallway. I find ticking comparable to Chinese water torture. Beautiful craftsmanship or not, if the clock lived with me I'd have dismantled it by now.

The rooms at both ends of the hall were dark, but the kitchen light was on. I peeked in with Andy's head close to mine. Pieces of a broken teapot lay across a saturated tablecloth, a kitchen chair was on its side, and torn pieces of paper were strewn across the floor. Andy and I looked at each other and then he turned.