Weapons of Mass Distraction (13 page)

Although I didn’t know where one sister lived, I did know that her younger sister was renting her apartment. It took me less than a couple of minutes to find the address. I logged my whereabouts onto the file, sent Solomon a text to that effect, and grabbed my jacket and purse, making my way down to the underground parking garage. Just as I entered the garage, I spotted Solomon talking to two people, a man and woman. The man looked like one of the thick-necked guys I’d seen previously. The woman held a folder that read Solomon Agency in solid white lettering across the middle.

“Boss,” I said, nodding to Solomon. “Hi,” I said to the other two who nodded in return.

The woman added, “Hi” and Solomon greeted me, but he made no moves to introduce anyone.

As I climbed into my car, I couldn’t resist taking another look in my mirror. Since the agency was small and tightly knit, I knew everyone in it, from our four investigators to the doorman. These people, however, I didn’t know, so I could safely assume they worked on the mystery floor. Now that I’d made contact and properly established my position by greeting another agency employee, perhaps I could corner one of them for some more information. I quickly glanced away when Solomon eyed me, firing up the engine. I adjusted the mirror and backed out, stuffing the in-agency intrigue into the back of my mind. That was one mystery I would have to solve on my own time. Or, at least, at a time when Solomon wasn’t watching.

Karen’s rented apartment was situated on the first block into Chilton. Even on the border, I could see it was pricey by the actual liveried doorman lurking inside the doors — since when did Montgomery get liveried doorman? — and the very stylish brick exterior. I had to park a block away and walk back, which gave me time to think about what my excuse would be for visiting. By the time I got there, I was all out of ideas, so I opted for the truth.

“I’m visiting Melanie Doyle,” I told the doorman, who clocked me the moment I entered.

“Sign here,” he said, pushing a pen and the guest book towards me. I signed and hesitated, waiting for him to ask me why I was there. When he didn’t, I simply smiled and went over to the elevator. Melanie lived on the fourth floor, in one of four apartments. Hers was to the front of the building, I noticed. I looked out of the corridor window while waiting after I knocked, trying not to think about how rude it was for me to be barging in on a grieving young woman.

Melanie looked a lot like her sister. Same size, slightly bigger build, and very pink cheeks. She wore a dark floral dress and button-up cardigan, both suited to mourning, but just as likely, her everyday wear. “Hi, I’m Lexi Graves. I’m sorry to intrude, but I’m a private investigator and I wanted to ask you a few questions about your sister, Karen,” I said, trying not to trip over my own tongue in my haste to assert myself.

Melanie blinked and frowned. “My sister died,” she said simply and bluntly.

“I know, I’m really sorry.”

“Why do you want to ask questions about her?”

“My client is concerned about her manner of death,” I said. “I know this is hard but…”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Melanie said, surprising me by stepping back and opening the door wider. “I’m worried too. Please come in. Can I see a badge or something?”

I pulled my license from my pocket and she took it, perusing it closely before allowing me to step in. I wondered if she’d ever seen a PI license before, but she made a show of nodding that she understood it, like most people did.

The apartment was smaller than I thought it would be, given the location, and I wondered if that was how Karen could afford it. We passed through a small entryway painted in beige and white, thick, horizontal stripes, which, I had to admit, looked very cool. The door at the far end was closed, and we passed by a small kitchen before entering a cozy living room. Everything was scaled to fit the room. Small couch and a tub chair, a dining table and two chairs. The curtains were hung high and wide, giving the appearance of larger windows. Everything was stylish, and there was nice artwork on the walls; actual watercolors, rather than prints.

“Karen painted in her spare time,” said Melanie, noticing me looking at a meadow scene stretched over a wide canvas. “She was really good.”

“They’re exquisite.”

“I kept on telling her that, but she stopped painting over a year ago. Said she just didn’t feel it anymore.”

“Did she often stop painting?”

“No, never. It was weird actually. She adored painting, she used to go on these painting retreats and everyone always bought her oils or watercolors for birthdays and Christmas. Then, all of a sudden, she just wasn’t interested anymore.” Melanie shrugged, turning away. “Now she can’t ever paint again.”

“This must be a difficult time for you,” I said, immediately wanting to narrow in on what could have stopped Karen from a much-loved hobby, but I stopped myself. It caught my attention that she stopped painting not long after changing jobs. That was exactly the sort of personality change that I’d learned to identify as a clue to a person’s mental state, but it was too soon to get personal.

Melanie nodded and gave me a sad flex of her mouth. “So how can I help you?” she asked, indicating I should sit on the couch while she took the chair.

“I hoped you would be able to give me some background on Karen.”

“Like what? She was a pretty private person.”

“Can you think of any reason why someone would want to hurt her?”

“No. Honestly, I’m still in shock that someone would. She was, like, the sweetest person. She was just nice. She was nice to everyone. I really looked up to her.”

“Were you close?”

“Very. You know, she let me rent this apartment when she moved in with Connor. She could have rented it and made a lot more money, but she only lets me,” Melanie paused, her voice choking, “
let
me pay the minimum, just enough to cover the mortgage.”

“That was nice of her. She was really excited about the wedding…” I trailed off, waiting for Melanie to fill in the blanks. Melanie nodded. “So, so happy,” she enthused. “She was really depressed when she got that job and Connor made a huge effort to make her feel really welcome. She always said how she was so surprised there was anyone that kind in the world, like she wasn’t, you know? She said, maybe it was meant to be. Maybe some good had to come out of…”

I waited, but Melanie didn’t continue. Instead, she looked at her hands folded over her knees.

I decided to try a different line of questioning. “Do you know if Karen knew a Jim Schwarz or Lorena Vasquez?”

“Yes, they both worked at the same company as Karen. The company she left. I’m not sure if she kept in touch. How come?”

“Jim and Lorena also died recently.”

“Oh, that’s so sad. I don’t think Karen knew them too well, but I think they hung out at work. She said Lorena was like a mom to everyone and I think she said Jim was really funny. Like I said, I don’t know if she kept up with them. I think they all got new jobs around the same time.”

“Yes, they did. Do you know why they all left Simonstech? Were they unhappy?”

“I don’t know. Karen was unhappy about something. You know, I remember something odd. I came by one Saturday because we were going to brunch and Karen looked so white I thought she might be ill, or had too much to drink at the office party and was sick. But she kept crying and wouldn’t say why. I knew something had really shaken her up. I asked her a few times after that… I guess I wanted to make sure someone hadn’t hurt her and she didn’t want to say, but she told me to forget all about it, that she just had a bad day or something, and then she got a new job and I guess I forgot. She was kind of anti-social after that party, so I remember being really pleased when she told me she had a new job. After that, she and Connor started dating.”

“Is that when Karen stopped painting? After the party?”

“No, that was a little while after, but I know she threw away everything she painted around then. She said they were all awful.” Melanie checked her watch and drew in a deep breath. “I have to go soon. I’m collecting my parents from the airport. They were on vacation in Bermuda and now we’re planning Karen’s funeral. That’s not what you expect to do for your sister, is it? Last week, we were planning her wedding flowers. Now, we’re using them for her funeral. Isn’t that sad?”

I had to agree it was. “How were things between Karen and her fiancé?” I asked getting up when Melanie rose.

“Great. He’s the nicest guy and they were so happy. Karen said he was the best thing to ever happen to her and she’s not usually the kind of person to make such statements. He’s devastated. His parents flew in last night and we’re all trying to support him too. I was at their house because we were scheduled to make the wedding favors together. The doctor had to sedate him after the police came.”

“Did Karen have any problems with anyone? Anything she was worried about?”

“No, she seemed really happy. We were all relieved she got through her depression.”

"Your other sister, too? I'd like to speak to her."

"Claire? Oh yes. She was really happy that Karen met Connor right before she went overseas. She works for a medical agency in Africa. She can't get a flight until the end of the week so talking to her won't be possible."

I figured I’d asked enough questions and I didn’t want to make Melanie feel defensive by bombarding her with anymore just yet, so I thanked her and she showed me out.

“Who is your client?” Melanie asked at the door. “I didn’t think to ask before. I’m kind of not thinking clearly right now. Who asked you to look into Karen’s death?”

“Fairmount Gym,” I told her,” but I’d appreciate it if you kept that confidential.”

“The place where she died?” Melanie frowned, then blinked. “Do they think we’re going to sue?”

“That never came up,” I said, not strictly honestly. Fact was, I didn’t want to distress her just as much as I didn’t want to plant that idea in her head. The Fairmount Gym was paying the agency fee to find as much evidence as possible to clear them of any wrongdoing, not paying me to get them sued.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Please don’t question my parents if you don’t need to. They’re grieving. And Connor is really out of it. You can ask me anything else you need to know about Karen.” Melanie took a card from the slim console table and pressed it into my palm. “If you find out anything, please call. We’re still waiting on the coroner’s report and the police can’t tell us anything.” She rummaged in her purse and came up with another card. “The detective we spoke to is called Adam Maddox, if that helps any?”

I assured her it did, and she added, “We just want to know what’s going on so we can lay Karen to rest.”

I nodded. “I’ll be in touch,” I said, which wasn’t really a promise or a refusal, but Melanie smiled and seemed to think that was good enough. As I walked up the block to my car, again, the niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach told me Karen’s upset had something to do with her previous job. The three of them were photographed at a party. What happened there? What could have been so bad that she couldn’t confide in her sister? And was it enough to make someone kill for?

Chapter Nine

Thanks to Solomon giving me the okay to take a pro bono case, I met Lily at The Coffee Bean, a popular coffee shop and hang out location. We were ready to canvass our first store as planned. She had a huge, heavy looking purse with her, which she kept on her knees, her arms clasped around it. She was smiling when I entered, which worried me.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked, bringing our coffees to the table.

Lily took a furtive glance to the left and then to the right. She narrowed her eyes at an older teen, tapping on his laptop’s keyboard, and he averted his gaze.

“What’s with you?” I asked.

Lily unzipped the bag and fixed me with a determined stare. “You never know who’s listening. The walls have ears! The thieves could be here. Right! Now!”

I looked around. The Coffee Bean was close to empty except for the teen, now packing his laptop into his bag and clearing away his coffee cup and a crumpled muffin wrapper. There were also two elderly ladies, deep in conversation, and a young mother, with a sleeping baby on her lap. “I think we’re good,” I told Lily.

Lily inclined her head to the mother and baby. “She could be married to the thief.” Next, she nodded to the elderly ladies. “They could be evil masterminds. Looks are deceiving you know. Just think about Lord Whatshisname and Ben Rafferty.”

“I guess,” I agreed halfheartedly, thinking about my last case, which didn’t end exactly as planned. There were just too many con men involved and one of them was always one step ahead of me. I tried to let it go, but truthfully, it still annoyed me that Ben Rafferty escaped. “But,” I continued, “I still think we’re safe. What’s in the bag?”

“Okay. So I have mace, a camera…” Lily started heaping things onto the table. “A notebook, wigs, three hats, sunglasses. I brought some for you too.”

“Uh… thanks?”

“Let’s see… what else? A dog bone. My wedding invitation sample. A recording device in case you don’t have a spare wire. My phone. Spare charger. Oh, no weapon. Did you bring your gun?”

“No!”

Lily sighed. “Well, that’s just plain bad planning.”

“I don’t normally bring my gun anywhere. It stays at home in a locked drawer where it belongs. I don’t need to shoot people. I only shoot at the range.”

“It’s for protection. We might get shot at.” Lily looked strangely hopeful with her wide eyes. “Should I get a bulletproof vest?”

“We’re only going to look into the thefts,” I told her, before taking a sip of the hot caramel latte. Delicious. “We’re going to ask a few questions. Take a few notes. Observe a little. See if anyone saw anything. Out of the kindness of our hearts,” I added, since we weren’t getting paid.

“And so no one steals my dress,” added Lily, less altruistically.

“And we’re definitely not getting shot at.” I poked through the items she assembled on the table. The camera and the notepad were a good idea. The recording device and the cell phone charger, too. But… “A dog bone?” I held it up, glad it was encased in a plastic wrapper. “What’s this for?”