The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (42 page)

“Cin, Billy shared some information with me.  I have it on
the tape recorder in my pocket.”

“Anything interesting?” I asked.

“I’d rather you listen to the tape.”

“Give it here.”

“No, when we get home.”

“Okay, bossy.”  I pouted until I saw a Taco Bell up ahead.  “Shall
we go to the border?”

“On one condition.  You change your clothes first.  You’re
wearing white linen for Christ-sakes,” Harry insisted.

“You’re starting to sound like my mother.  Okay, deal.”  I
was very curious about what was on the tape, but I was more hungry than
curious.  So I let Harry have everything his way. 

~

One orange halter top plus two hours in the Florida sun
equals?  Two saggy boobs and one hell of a sunburn.  I didn’t think my burnt
shoulders could stand bra straps, but the alternative was to go braless in
front of Tony, Dave, the profiler, what his name, and the rest of the police. 
I wanted them to take me seriously and not be distracted by the extra swing in
my walk.  I downed three aspirin and put on my blue cotton bra and washed-out
blue jean shirt.  My baggy jeans, that weren’t baggy at the start of the week,
and walking shoes would have to do.  I had already washed my face and was very
pleased to see the sunscreen in the foundation had lived up to the Macy’s saleswoman’s
boasts.

Harry was waiting for me in the kitchen with our fast food
feast laid out.  He was already into his second Mexican beer.  I raised my
eyebrow.

“Don’t worry.  You’re driving tonight.”  He pushed a can of
cola my way.

“Thank you.  It isn’t like you to give up a chance to
drive.  Are you sick of the car?”

“Nope, I needed the beer more than the rush of the engine,”
Harry explained.

“Far be it from me to deny an adult alcohol.”  I sat down
and began devouring a burrito.  “So play the tape.”

He pushed the button and opened his third beer.  The tape
started from when I had answered the cell.  Billy had stopped talking about
plants.

“So you doing her?” Billy asked Harry.

“Wha… what?” Harry was caught by surprise.

“Pretty hot lady.  I’d
do her.  With those tits and that mouth.  I never noticed that mouth till
today.  Lipstick.”

“She is the mother of a
friend of mine.  And besides I’m her spring intern.” Harry croaked.

“Too bad.  Those chicks
when they cross forty are great in bed!”  Billy must have added some body
language because there was a gap in the conversation.

“Yeah, like you ever had one,” baited Harry.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I did the dead woman.”

“What dead woman?”  Harry was under control.

“That Cheryl.  Hell, I
still have the keys to her apartment.  She and I spent lots of time there.  She
begged for it.”

“You said that she was dead?”

“Didn’t Cindy tell you?” Billy asked.

“No, what happened?”

“Someone poisoned her.  I think it was her old
man.  Her ex.  He was pretty scary.  That’s why I stopped coming over.  Saw him
parked in the lot of her apartment building.  I just drove by, didn’t stop.  So
you think she fools around?”

“Who, oh Ms.
Fin-Lathen?  Don’t know,” Harry started to say something and stopped.

The next thing I heard
on the tape was my voice
.

I looked at my miserable friend.  I tried to put myself in
his shoes.  Didn’t work. So I asked, “Harry, why are you so, well, drunk?”

“I feel disloyal.  I feel like I should have slugged him,
something.”  Harry was looking down at the floor.

“Oh, I thought maybe the thought of you and I so severely
grossed you out?”

“Well, I never thought of you that way.  As a mom, yeah, but
a woman?”

“I believe the term was “pretty hot babe?”

Harry groaned.

“Okay, I wasn’t playing fair.  First of all, you were
playing a role.  We both were.  You couldn’t react because you would have been
out of character.  I’m not mad at you at all.  However, I’m flattered that you
think of me as motherly.  I’m honored that you would punch Billy on my behalf. 
He was crude and disgusting.  Men.  Brian was kinda oily about it, but at least
Billy was up front, to you anyway.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Do Billy.”

“No, I haven’t thought much about men since Luke left.”  My
brain shouted “Liar, what about the priest?”  I colored a bit, but cleared my
voice and continued, “When I look at you, I see a great young person with his
life ahead of him.  Inside I feel the same pride I feel when I look at Alex or
Noelle for that matter.  You are part of us whether you like it or not.  So can
we put this behind us?”

Harry belched and smiled.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”  I ate happily with the knowledge
that I was still “one pretty hot babe.”  Take that Dudley Do-Right!

The Avery Theater marquee was dark.  And although the side
lot was filled with vehicles, there wasn’t one paying customer in the
building.  Harry was still buzzed on the beer.  Each time during the drive up
that I mentioned the profiler he went “ooh, ahh” just like people do when they
watch fireworks.  I ended up putting the top down and gave him a good dose of
fresh air for the last five miles.

I pulled into a space and took my time putting the top up.  Harry
was a loose cannon sober.  I could not even estimate the odds of disaster with
him plowed.  It was exactly seven when Harry and I walked in the door.

The lights were up on the stage and in the house.  A
uniformed policeman directed us around the back and out into the audience.  I
inched my way to a seat next to Sergeant Dave.  I felt Harry and I would need a
friendly face when Tony found out what we had been up to today.  Tony was up
onstage.  He had set it up as it had been on Sunday night, with the exception
that the stands were missing.  This would make the view of the chairs, each
with the player’s name on them, easier.

On either side of the stage was a screen.  One had a
PowerPoint chart of the musicians’ names showing.  The other had the video,
frozen at the beginning of the concert.  I looked at the other members of the
audience.  Miles sat, arms crossed, in the front row far right.  The security
guards sat on the far left of the first row.  Several familiar faces, no doubt
the interviewing officers, sat together in the middle.  The third row held
Dave, Harry and me.  Second row center was a fit, tanned gentleman taking up
three seats with his files, notes and laptop computer.  That would be the
profiler.

Tony looked out into the audience and nodded his head.  “Okay,
we’re all here.” He walked to the center, picked up the microphone and turned
it on.  “I’m going to use this so you can hear me when I turn around and walk
about the stage.  First, let me introduce everyone.  Please stand.  Yes, I know
this isn’t high school, but it’s important that each of us knows who is who.”

“Or whom is whom,” Harry whispered.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh,” I hissed at him.

“In the front, starting from the right.  Stand up please. 
Miles Feinstein, stage manager for the Avery Theater and the Coconut Palm
Concert Band.  He was working Sunday, the evening of Carl Campbell’s murder,
and Tuesday, the attempted murder of Manfred Tuttle and Tobias Green.  In the
middle are my team, Bob Walker, Pete Smith and Eric Daily.  The three were
present for questioning on Sunday night, and Bob and Pete were with me on
Tuesday.  They also were responsible for canvassing the audience members. 
Retired Sergeant Eddie Simpson and his partner Buck Murphy were on duty Sunday
night as security for the Avery Theater.”

“In the second row is Doctor Glen Botticelli, I hope I
pronounced that correctly.  Glen is on loan to us from the FBI profiling unit
in Washington D.C.  Last row, Sergeant Dave Buslowski of the Palm Beach County
Sheriff’s Department.  He has acted as liaison between us and the lab.  He was
also on scene for the activity at Cindy Fin-Lathen’s residence down in the
village.  Next to him is Cindy Fin-Lathen.  Stand up.  Thank you.  Ms.
Fin-Lathen discovered Carl Campbell on Sunday evening.  She unsuccessfully
tried to save Cheryl Ann Brown’s life Monday evening at Coconut Palm High School
where the band was rehearsing.  On Tuesday morning, she awoke to find a
truckload of white oleander flowers on her front lawn.  Tuesday evening, she
and Bernice Marks were responsible for saving Manfred Tuttle and Tobias Green
with the help of the gentleman next to her, Harry O’Rourke.  You might as well
stand up, Harry.  Good.  They decoded a message sent to her home that aided the
lab in labeling the poison used in the attempt on Tuesday.  Mr. O’Rourke
assisted me on Monday morning in my investigation.  He is acting as bodyguard
for Ms. Fin-Lathen presently.”

I sat down and pulled Harry down next to me.  The room was
either warm or I was blushing.  I hoped it was the room.

“First, bear with me as I run the concert tape.  Please act
as an audience and observe the performance,” he said as he came down the steps
to join us.  A policewoman handed each of us one of the programs that were used
Sunday night.  As the tape ran, I focused on Cheryl.  She walked in wearing the
same style tux that I had worn last year.  She carried her oboe and, yes, the
reed was in place.  She sat down, and I didn’t see anything that could have
been a water bottle around her chair.  Manfred and Tobias were talking to each
other and waving to the audience.  I saw myself walking Bernice to her seat and
sitting down myself.  Once the band was set and all but Carl’s chair was taken,
the conductor came out and started the concert.

I got caught up in the concert.  I winced at wrong notes and
colored when the tempo sagged.  The dissection of the music so captivated me
that I lost focus on why I was there until we played
The Phantom of the
Opera
.  The first scream, jolted me from my focus.  I must have jerked
because Harry’s hand grabbed mine.  I appreciated the warmth of his overly
manicured grasp.  He brought me more gently back into the cold theater where a
new drama was about to begin.

“Pause tape, please!  Thank you.  The list on the left is of
the people on the stage before the sound quality changes.”  Curtis, in full
detective mode, ordered, “Roll ahead and stop at zero thirty-five point eight.”

He went over all the action, and when there were questions
they were directed to the participants.  I answered some musical questions, and
the security guys gave their play by play.  I could sense the impatience of the
males on either side of me.  Harry must have seen the video more times than he
cared to.  Sargent Dave checked his notes while murmuring things to himself. 

Tony pointed out the change in the sound quality, explained
the theory of Carl’s own recorder being used.  Questions, assumptions and cold
hard facts were repeated to the group.  I phased out a moment, and I saw not
the heavy-set man pacing the stage with microphone in hand, but that little
Belgian detective I’d seen brilliant portrayed by David Suchet.

I wonder if movie actors feel this out of body experience
when they see themselves on film.  I felt that way as I watched myself walk and
pull the sound curtain back.  Miles comes across the stage. 

“Pause the tape a minute, Tony,” Dave directed.  “Run it
back to Ms. Fin-Lathen’s reappearance. Okay, good.  Now, what did you say?”

“I think I said ‘Carl.’ I didn’t realize he was dead at
first.”

“Run it in slow, and please continue to narrate, Ms.
Fin-Lathen.”

I recounted the exchange between Miles and myself up until
he fainted on me.

Tony walked over to the security guards.  “This is where
they come in.  Rewind back a bit and roll the tape,” he directed.

The curtain broke off its rail because I was still holding
it when I fell.  Not all of it came down, just the first four feet, which was
enough to expose Carl to the camera.

“Ouch.  That had to hurt,” Harry said beside me.

“I’m sure Carl didn’t enjoy it,” I said softly.

“No, the fall.  Look at your leg.   You’re right under him. 
Oh yuck!”

“Don’t get sick,” I warned him.  “I don’t remember much
after this.  I must have been in shock.  I want to see what happened.”

The guards ran up on the stage.  I relived the horror of
finding Carl, and the embarrassment of not being about to get off the floor
without assistance.

“Hello, what’s going on now?” Dave asked.

Eddie took the lead and answered the questions fired at him
like a pro.  I smiled as I remembered his supposed lack of experience.  He was
professional and concise.

The tape resumed with me sitting there while they helped
Miles up and in came the police.

“Hold on, are those traffic patrolmen?”  Dave asked.  “Does
Coconut Palm send out motorcycle traffic patrolmen to suspected homicides?”

“No.  There was a lot of confusion in dispatch.”

“Where were the campus police?”

“Basketball game.”

“All this in the report?”

“Yes,” Tony answered, his face showing that he wasn’t
appreciating the direction of Dave’s questions.

“Hold tape!”  Dave got up.  He was running the show now. 
“Back up to when the paramedics arrive.  This would be Ed Novak and Bill
Clarion?” he asked, looking down at his notes.

“Yes.”

“Are they here tonight?” he questioned.

“No, but their report is.”

“I will need to talk to them personally.  You’ll arrange
that?”

Tony nodded as he jotted down the request.

“Okay, then it’s up to Ms. Fin-Lathen - that is quite a
mouthful,” Dave complained.

“Cin, call me Cin,” I offered.

“Cin is better, no disrespect meant.”

“None taken.”

“Please tell us what’s going on here.  Can we slow this
down?  We can.  Okay, Cin, you go ahead,” Dave instructed.

I cleared my voice and began to explain to the best of my
knowledge what was going on without adding in my theories.  My hands shook a
bit as the gravity of the situation started to take hold of me.  I may have
been implicating myself with too much knowledge of the scene before me, but I
couldn’t help myself.  I finished my narration. Silence greeted me.

Tony looked over at me and me at him. Had he sensed my
worry?  I remembered thinking, “Is this the moment when the cuffs come out?”

To my relief he spoke, “Thanks, Cin.  We can stop the tape
now.”  He walked back to the middle of the stage.  “I wish this had been
handled better.  Maybe if it had, we would have an answer by now.  Who knows? 
Officer Dudley was young and inexperienced.  Ms. Fin-Lathen was treated
poorly.”

I assumed this was an apology, although, I don’t think he
tried very hard.

Tony asked for the stage lights to be brightened.  “Does
anyone have any questions for Miles, Buck or Eddie?”

“Miles, where were you during the concert?” Dave asked,
scanning the reports.

“I was in the lobby fixing a door that wouldn’t close.”

“Is this one of your responsibilities?”

“No, but I was the only one around.”

“Can anyone verify that you were there?”

“Buck.”  Miles pointed at the security man.

“Buck?”

“Miles was there at the start of the concert.  And then I
took my post inside the theater,” Buck verified.

“So you can’t say that he was there all the time?”

“No, sir, I can’t.”

“Thank you, Buck.  Miles, did anyone else see you?”

“No, I was by myself.  The door was stuck because someone
jammed a reed in the hinge.  It took me a while to pop it off its hinges and clear
all the bamboo away.”

“Excuse me, can I ask a question?” I asked Tony.

“Please.”

“What kind of reed was it?”

Miles thought for a moment and looked into space as if he
was trying to visualize the reed.  “Honestly, I don’t really know.  I know
enough to know it was a reed.  All I could tell you is that there was a lot of
bamboo to clear away.”

“Could there been more than one reed?”

“There was.  Wait.  There wasn’t that smooth part.  Just the
cut part.”  Miles gestured with his hands. 

“I’m sorry, but what is he talking about?” Dave piped up.

“Hold on.”  I reached down and put my purse on Harry’s lap
as I pulled things out of it.  “Hang on.  Yes, here it is.”  I pulled out a
package of reeds I had bought but had neglected to take out of my purse.  I
opened the package and slid out a small plastic case. I tossed the small
package to Miles.

Miles opened the case and drew out the reed.  He held a two
and a half inch by three quarter inch piece of bamboo sliced even on one side
and at an angle on the other, starting half way down and tapering to a tip.

“What part was in the door?” I asked Miles.

“This part.”  He held up the angle cut part of the reed.  “But
the pieces were longer and thinner.  And there was some red thread.” 

“Do we have the reed?” Dave asked.

“No reed.  Miles threw the pieces away.  We didn’t find any
trace at the door,” Tony explained.

“I wonder...” I realized that I was talking out loud. Dave
turned, and I caught Tony looking at me. “I wonder if it could have been a
bassoon reed?  It would explain the thread.  Oboe reeds would be bound in
something similar, but they are considerably smaller.”

“I may be talking Hollywood here,” Harry interjected, “but
can’t you find trace evidence of the reed still in or around the door.  I doubt
that the area has been cleaned.”

“Harry, a lot of people left using that door,” Miles
explained.

“Did anyone try?” Harry looked at Tony.  Tony held up his
hands.  Harry looked at Dave.

“I’ll call the lab,” Dave offered.

“Anyone have any questions for Buck or Eddie?”  Tony waited.
 “Okay, you guys can go home.  Miles, why don’t you stick around your office
until the lab boys come.  You can show them which door.”