The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (37 page)

“That took a lot of courage.  Weren’t you scared?”

“I was scared I was going to lose Mom.  I was scared of
sleeping in that empty house.  And I needed counsel.  Grandpa Joe was fine, but
he’s, well, old.  That’s where you and your ex-husband came in.  You took me in
and treated me no different than Alex.  You are a bit bossy but fair.  Your
house was my escape and my school.  I learned more from being around you
lunatics than in books.”

Turning off the turnpike, I looked for two quarters in the
cup holder.  It kept me from tearing up.  “What did you learn from us?”

“Humor, the basic element of life.  Laugh. Make people
laugh.  If you’re depressed, give some of your time to someone.  Make someone
laugh.  I remember Alex telling me about the wheelbarrow incident.”

“Oh no!  He told people about that.  How embarrassing.”

“So it really happened?”

“Hold on.”  I pulled forward, paid my toll, said thank you,
and drove on.

“Why did you thank her?”

“She took my toll.”

“She was going to take it anyway.”

“Okay, it’s polite.  I don’t know why I do it.  I believe we
need to change the subject.  What were we talking about?”

“Alex and the wheelbarrow.”

“Next subject.”

“No, Alex told me that you came home from band practice, and
he came out to the garage in his boxers.”

“Kid never had any modesty.”

“And he complained to you that his head hurt real bad.  He
was all stressed out over studying for an exam.  So you told him to stand
still.  The garage door opener light went out, and, before he knew what was
going on, you scooped him up in the wheelbarrow and gave him a wheelbarrow ride
around the neighborhood at 11:30 at night!  He said he was laughing so hard and
tried to keep quiet because he didn’t want anyone to see the two of you.  By
the time you returned to the garage, the headache was gone.”

“Guess you heard right, except it was just around the front
yard.”

“But he was in his underwear.”

“Boxers.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Don’t know?  Impulse probably.  And it was funny.”  I could
see him still standing there in his smiley face boxers.  My little Alex. 

My cell phone rang and broke up my thoughts.  I reached over
to the console where I had a holder installed and pressed on. 

“Cin, this is Bernice.”

“Yes Bernice.”

“I think there might be a problem.”

“I don’t understand, a problem with what?”

“Manfred and Tobias... I went in after you left and ran back
the messages, and well just listen.”

“Hello.  Oh a recording, damn inconvenient.  Bernice
darling, this is Manfred.  Tobias and I just got a call from Miles about a
potluck at the theater.  He said he was left a message that our names were
accidentally left off of the guest list.  I do not know what all that is about,
cannot seem to get anyone but their machines today.  Anyway, if you think
Tobias and I bringing a dessert is not the right thing, give me a call back on
my cellular phone.  555-1342.  Otherwise I will see you at five.  Ta Ta.”
 

“What party?” I asked.

“That’s my point.  There isn’t a party as far as I know.”

I looked at the clock in the car. 4:35 PM.  “Bernice, Harry
and I are about ten minutes from there.  Please hang up and call Tony.  I think
he left you his card.  Play him the tape.  Then see if you can get Manfred on
his cell and tell them.  Oh hell, tell him and Tobias not to touch or eat
anything.” 

“Okay, dear,” she said and hung up.

“Harry, did you get that cell number by any chance?”

“Already dialing.  Busy.  I think your cell company’s
circuits are busy.”

“Keep dialing and hang on.”  I increased my speed and began
Audubon maneuvers  If I attracted a cop, all the better.  We were almost there,
just a mile away.  “Don’t be early,” I chanted over and over again.   The
traffic slowed and then stopped. Craning my head out the window, I could see
the train gates go down.  “No!” I yelled. “The tracks!  Not now!”

“Cin, calm down.  It won’t be long.  We have time,”  Harry
assured me.

I put the top down, took off my seatbelt and stood up on the
car seat to see better.  The train slowly made its way south, down the tracks. 
I looked at my watch, 4:45 PM. “Don’t be early.”  The train stopped and started
to back up. “Nooooo!  I can see the theater, but I can’t wait here till the
damn train makes up its mind.”  I got out of the car.  “Harry, take care of my
car,” I shouted as I ran the block to the tracks.  The train was still backing
up.  I could get back to the car.  I looked around me and judged the traffic. 
I knew it would be too late by the time the traffic lights cycled to get there
by car.

The wide expanse of tracks over stone and gravel was even
with the road where they crossed, but it was elevated five feet from the
surrounding landscape.  I slid back a foot for every three I climbed until I
was even with the first set of tracks.  It was empty at the moment.  I moved
cautiously over the shiny metal until I found myself an angel’s breath away
from the moving train.  It was moving slowly as it backed up to either drop off
or pick up cars.  I backed up and, in doing so, jammed the back of my sandal
under the last rail. I tugged on it, but it wouldn’t budge.  I slid it off my
foot, conscious of the sharp stones that would be tearing into my foot as I
continued my trek over the next two sets of rails. 

The engine was even with me now.  I noticed the engineer
inside as he went about his tasks.  He didn’t see me or if he did, chose to
ignore the one-shoed, wild-haired redhead motioning to get a move on.

 As soon as the engine passed me, I scrambled over the last
two sets of tracks.

I was in a full run when I hit the busy cross street that
ran parallel to the tracks.  The light changed, and the little stick figure
sign gave me the go ahead to cross.  I had to trust God and the municipal
workers to keep running across the eight lanes of traffic. I’m no runner, well
not since the seventh grade.  I remembered my coach said to keep my breathing a
pattern.  I chanted in my head, “Don’t be early, don’t be early.”  Hopefully,
this would help ease the stitch in my side.  I chose to cut through the
landscaped parking lot instead of running down to the entrance.  I pushed
through the bushes hedging the lot.  Their thorns cut through my shorts and
scratched my legs. I must have lost my remaining sandal because the hot
pavement was burning both of my feet instead of just one.  I continued to run
as hard as my legs could take me.  I rounded the front of the building.  A
Cadillac SUV was parked near the stage door.  I assumed it was Manfred’s car.  I
slowed down to peer into the vehicle.  Damn, they weren’t in it. The building
loomed over me, and I had little to nothing left.  Panting, I took the steps
two at a time and ran to the stage door.  Thank God, it was unlocked.  I heard
the wail of a siren close by just before the door shut itself behind me.  The
darkness of the stage momentarily blinded me.  I reached up and ripped my
sunglasses off.

“Don’t, don’t, don’t!”  I screamed as I slid into the
hallway to the coffee room and bounced off the wall before steading myself. 
Like a horse seeing the barn, the light of the room gave me a burst of energy.  I
ran hard, burst through the door, and then went sprawling as I fell over
something on the floor just inside the room.  I fought the impulse to scream
and looked at who or what I fell over.  A bassoon case?  Just a bassoon case. 
I saw the white cloth-covered banquet table set up with food, but what caught
my eye was the bright red drink of death in the crystal punch bowl. I scanned
the room.  I couldn’t see them.  Did they take the punch and walk around?

“Manfred, Tobias!”  I called out.  Please God, let me find
them in time.  I crawled over to the table put my head under the cloth.  I
breathed a sigh of relief.  No dead bodies.  “Where are they?” I crawled under
the table and lifted the cloth to see the other side.  No one.  I backed out and
started to get to my feet when Tony ran into the room.

“Are we too late?” he asked out of breath. 

“I don’t know.  I can’t find them.  Manfred’s car is here. 
I tripped over his stupid case over there.  They were here.”

“Cin! Cin!”  Harry was shouting. 

“Here,” was all I could squeak out.

Tony came over and lifted me to my feet.  “Where are your
shoes?”

“I don’t know, maybe the train tracks?”  Fuchsia toenails
winked out at me from under the black grime of the road.

“What’s all the noise about?” Miles said as he walked into
the room.  “Some party.”  He walked over and picked up a plastic cup and began
to ladle some punch into his cup.

“Put that down!  Now!” Tony said with authority.

Miles shrugged his shoulders and set the cup down. “Just
because I’m not invited, you don’t have to be so rude.”

“Where are they?”

“They?” Miles asked.

“Manfred and Tobias!”

“The old farts?  Last I saw, they were sitting in the
audience.  With their hands folded in their laps.  I asked them what they were
doing, and they said Bernice told them to not touch anything.  To sit down and
fold their hands.”

“Bernice got through!”  I cried and ran into Harry’s arms as
he leaned sweating in the doorway.  He helped me out to the edge of the stage. 
Sure enough, there sat Manfred and Tobias in seats J 24 and J 25.  They held
their folded hands up to show me they were following instructions.  I sat down
with my bloody legs hanging over the edge of the stage and just looked at
them.  Tears were streaming down my face, but I was laughing.

“Cin, about your car...” Harry began and sat next to me.

“You wrecked it?” I asked weakly.

“No, it has one hell of a good pick up.  And it corners on
sixty real smooth!”

“Ah, Harry, did I ever tell you how much you… you drive me
crazy?”  I leaned over and put my head on his shoulder.

The geeks had returned.  I really wished that I had caught
one of the gentlemen’s names during the Cheryl incident.  Calling someone a
geek in thought is tricky because it tends to slip the lip, and, karma
speaking, it isn’t a good thing to do.  Plus, they brought reinforcements. 
Four men dressed in protective gear transported all the food, drink, plates,
and tableware in plastic to the lab.  Everything would need to be checked.

Manfred and Tobias were still sitting in the audience
watching the procedure from their seats.  Detective Curtis asked them to be
patient and all would be explained to them when he returned.  I assured them
wearily that someone wasn’t playing a joke on them or trying to make them
appear foolish.

Harry had left to see if he could find my shoes.  I was
still sitting on the edge of the stage staring at Manfred and Tobias.  “You
know guys, you don’t have to sit so far away.” 

Tobias jumped up and helped Manfred out of the seat.  They
both sidestepped to the isle and came down to the stage.  Manfred studied my
appearance for a while before speaking.  “Cynthia dear, if you and your young
lover are going to cavort in the bushes, try to find ones without thorns.”

“You’re kidding right?”

Manfred looked at Tobias and Tobias looked back at Manfred. 
He shook his head.

“First, the young man is a friend of the family.  He is not
my lover, and, he and I risked our necks getting here to…  Well, I will let the
Detective tell you.”

“Friend of the family?”  He gave Tobias such an amused look
that I felt like smacking the man.

“Lord, Manfred, when you say that it sounds so dirty.”  I
broke into a smile.  Actually it was very funny.  But I was glad Harry wasn’t
in earshot.  My ego couldn’t stand an “ew gross!”

“What’s dirty?”  Tony asked as he crossed the stage.

“Nothing.  Are you finished in there yet?”  I grumbled.

“Matter of fact, yes.  Mr. Tuttle, Mr. Green, would you
accompany me to the coffee room.  We have a lot to discuss.”

“Fine, it is about time.  Tobias and I are starving.”  Tobias’s
bobbing head supported Manfred’s indignant reply.  They ambled over to the
steps and began to climb.

“Aren’t you coming?”  Tony asked impatiently.

I took a big breath and smiled.  I wiggled my finger
indicating that I wanted him to come closer.  He bent down and I grabbed his
tie.  “I can’t get up.  If my one arm would hold me, I know my legs won’t.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said and walked behind me and hefted me
straight up.  Lord, he was strong. 

I tested my legs and was able to walk.  I followed the three
backstage and down the hall to the coffee room.  Miles was sitting there in the
company of two officers.  I believed I hadn’t seen them Sunday night, but I
wasn’t sure.  I didn’t have my glasses on, so I couldn’t read their names.  I
was able to see the look of hatred on Miles’s face though. 

“Have a seat, gentleman, Ms. Fin-Lathen.”  Tony’s use of my
surname in front of witnesses and other officers no longer made me feel like a
suspect.  It made me feel important.  Important or not, Miles’s gaze did little
to make me feel safe.  I took the seat farthest away from him.  Harry slid in
just as Tony was closing the door.  He scanned the room and put his face inches
away from the door jam.

“Cool, you dusted.”  Harry walked over to me and handed me a
mangled mess that was once one of my sandals.  “Train got there first,” he
said, pulling up a chair next to me.

“It’s okay.  I seem to be averaging one pair of ruined shoes
a day now,” I mumbled.

“Miles, thank you for staying.  We need to clear something
up.  Did you call these gentlemen today?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“When I came back from lunch I found a note on my desk
asking me to call them.  The note explained that they had been accidentally
left off the mailing list for invitations for the band’s pot luck,” Miles
explained.

“Do you have the note?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s on my desk.” 

“Pete, would you go with Mr. Feinstein and retrieve the
note, please?”

Pete nodded, and he and Miles left the room.  Manfred and
Tobias looked at one another.  Harry got up and walked to the door, changed his
mind and came back.

“Inspector...” Manfred started.

“Detective,” Tony corrected.

“Ahem, so sorry, Detective.  Can you explain what is going
on now or do we have to wait?  I assure you he did call.  Can we move forward
to why Tobias and I are here?”

Tony studied the two for a moment.  “You’re aware that Carl
and Cheryl were killed.”

“We were told that Carl had an accident and Cheryl had food
poisoning.”  He looked at Tobias.  “Now, you are telling us that they were
killed?”

“How?” Tobias asked.  So the little guy can talk today.  I
thought he was far too silent, out of character.

“Carl and Cheryl were poisoned.  We think by the same
person.  And, Mr. Tuttle and Mr. Green, we have reason to believe you two were
next.  If it wasn’t for some quick action by Ms. Fin-Lathen and Bernice you
probably would be dead at this moment.”

Manfred started to get up and his knees buckled, and he
landed back in the folding chair that screeched under his weight.  Tobias made
sure his friend was okay then he got up and walked over and looked at me.  His
eyes were strange.  He just stood there staring.

“Mr. Green, are you alright?”  Tony got up and led him back
to his seat.

“Tell me what happened.  How?” Manfred stammered.

“Detective, could I?” Harry asked.

“Sure, but be short.  I think these gentlemen have had quite
a bad shock.”

“You were lured here.  Just the two of you.  Somewhere in
that food was poison.” Harry took a big breath and explained everything that
happened from their phone call to my race across the railroad tracks.  Shaking
his finger at the pair he said, “You big windbags, she crawled when she could
no longer stand.  To find you.  Thank God, you answered Bernice’s call.  Thank
God, you didn’t waltz in here and start eating. Or you’d be dead, probably
painfully dead.”

“Oh my!”  Tobias paled.

Manfred looked up at Tony.  Tony confirmed Harry’s story
with a nod.  He then eased himself up, pushing away Tobias’s hand.  He walked
over to me and sat down in Harry’s chair.  “I do not understand, Cynthia.   You
risked yourself to save old Tobias and me?  What are we to you?”

“Frightfully bad bassoon players, and friends.”  There I
finally said it.

“Tobias.”  Manfred turned to his friend.

“Yes?”

“I guess we could practice a bit.”  He turned back to me.  “Would
that make you happy, Cynthia?

“Yes, it would, but not because I have too high expectations
for this band.  I think if Carl and Cheryl were killed because of the band.  It
might keep the two of you alive.”

“We didn’t know this was such a cutthroat band when we
joined it, did we, Tobias old man?”  Manfred smiled and broke into laughter
when Tobias drew his imaginary knife across his throat.  Still laughing he
asked Tony, “So who tried to kill us?”

“We don’t know yet.  We have narrowed the field a bit. Bob,”
he said, addressing the remaining officer, “Would you take down statements from
these gentlemen and then escort them home?”

“Is that necessary?  I do not know what my neighbors will
think?” Manfred protested.

“I want the two of you to listen to me very carefully. 
One:  You had an attempt made on your life.  Two:  The killer is still at
large.  Three:  He may try again.  Four:  Do not eat anything your wives
haven’t cooked for you.  Five:  Do not socialize with anyone from the band.”

“And Six:  Practice, practice, practice,” I thought it
couldn’t hurt to add.

~

Tony, Harry and I left the room to find Pete and Miles.  My
legs were rubbery, but I managed with Harry’s help.  We entered Miles’s office
to see him frantically rifling through papers three inches deep on his desk.

There were manuals and catalogs stacked everywhere.  The man
never put anything away.  I picked up the
Coconut Palm Band Personnel
book
off the floor where it had fallen.  It was opened to the Ts. I put it back on
the desk.

“Pete, I take it Miles lost the message?” Tony asked.  Pete
confirmed with a nod. 

“Wait there it is!” Harry grabbed at an envelope on the
desk.

“The message?” Miles asked relieved.

“No, my paycheck.”  Harry took a big step back as Miles
lunged for him.  Pete grabbed Miles in time.  He missed Harry’s neck by inches.

“Mr. Feinstein, I think it’s time we had a long visit down
at my office.”

“What, why?” Miles looked appalled.  “Oh no, I had nothing
to do with offing Carl. I heard that Cheryl bought it at rehearsal.  So you
can’t think I had anything to do with that bitch.”

“You called Manfred and Tobias.”

“I was asked to call them.”

“Who set up the room?”

“How the hell would I know?”

“You’re in charge of the theater, are you not?”

“Yes.  But I didn’t kill them!”

“I think we better talk down at my office.  Pete, escort Mr.
Feinstein.”

“Are you charging me?”

“No, we just want to talk in a quiet, neutral place.  I
don’t think you want your past aired in front of anyone, do you?” Tony said
evenly.

“Harry, you lock up.” Miles reached into his pocket and
tossed his keys to him.

“I’m not on the clock.”

I pinched his arm.

“Sure, no problem.  What about your car?  Want me to drive
it to the station?”

“Hell no, it’s safer here than in your hands.  Anyone who’d
let you drive their car is insane.”

“Hey now!” Harry protested.

Well, I thought as I walked out of Miles’s office.  It must
be true then.  I’m insane.

Miles brushed past me with Pete on his heels.  Tony shuffled
some papers around.  I think he was still looking.  “You don’t think he did it,
do you?”  I asked.  He didn’t say anything. 

“He was going to drink the punch,” I volunteered.

“We don’t know if the punch was poisoned do we?”  Tony
ushered us out.  “Look I have to go look in on Bob, but tell me something.”

“Sure.  What?”

“If the killer was sending messages: don’t be late, don’t
copy.  If he would have succeeded this evening, what would the message be?”

I thought for a moment and then said, “Don’t socialize.”

~

Manfred and Tobias left with their bassoons.  Bob was to
follow them home.  That left Harry and I in the empty theater.  I walked around
with him checking doors and shutting off lights.  The Avery Theater seemed to
have aged so in the last couple of days, as if Carl’s death started a decay
that would eventually rot the floorboards and eat away the curtains.  I
couldn’t get several thoughts out of my head, so I asked Harry if we could stay
just a while longer and brainstorm.  He and I went down and sat in the
audience. 

Looking up at the stage I started, “If the same killer
killed both Carl and Cheryl and attempted to kill Manfred and Tobias - not to
mention cutting oleander all night and dumping it at my house - he has something
definite in mind.  Don’t be late.  Don’t copy.  Don’t socialize.  What is my
don’t?”

“Don’t question?” Harry offered.  “You know it sounds like
instructions to me.”

“I don’t follow?”

“When we were going to Bernice’s you gave me a list of
don’ts.  Who in the band would do that?”

“The conductor.  Who is a doctor of Botany.  Who has the
most to lose if the band stinks.  But, Harry, he just seems too remote.  I
think that you would have to really enjoy killing to do what he did to Carl.  I
don’t think Doctor Sanders enjoys anything.”

“Well, let’s keep him in mind.  Who else?”

“Brian hasn’t been interviewed yet.”

“The Satanist?”

“Occultist.  I know his wife Dorothy.  Maybe we should give
him a courtesy call.”

“Without the police?” Harry conspired.

“Yes, definitely without the police,” I said, getting to my
feet. I barely made it up the steps and over to the back entrance where I
propped myself against the wall as I waited while Harry checked all the doors.

Harry turned out the last of the lights, and as he locked
the door, something jogged my memory and it played back.

“Harry?”  I touched his arm.  “Why did the bassoon players
bring their instruments?” I asked.

“I don’t know.  Maybe they were told to.”

“Just seems odd to me.”