A Corpse in the Soup (18 page)

“Oscar warned me not to say a word to the police without him and we arranged to meet Lieutenant Adams at the Hollywood station this afternoon at two.”

Godiva sighed, “Well, at least she didn’t haul you in right then and there.”

“I guess being a celebrity has its perks. If I were some poor, blue-collar slob I’d probably be behind bars right now.” There was a pregnant pause and the faux warmth of the conversation drained away. “I’m afraid we can’t take this lightly. That bitch thinks I killed Wellington. I could see it in her eyes.”

“Take a deep breath, Caesar. I know Oscar very well. There’s no way he’ll let them railroad you.” She paused. “Call me on my cell phone just as soon as you know anything. We’ve got a little investigating of our own to do, so I may not be home.”

“Please be cautious, Godiva. I don’t want the two of you to do anything foolhardy. There’s a killer on the loose. He killed once; he could do it again.”

The sisters exchanged glances while assuring Caesar they would stay out of trouble. Godiva pressed the off button on the phone and thought:
What would he say if he knew about Edgar?

Goldie raised an eyebrow.
Maybe he does.

As Guadalupe set out with Godiva’s Blue Mountain coffee on a tray, Goldie switched the little kitchen TV from Tele-Mundo to the
Channel 2 News
. The anchorman was just recapping the events surrounding Wellington’s murder.

Goldie slumped in the chair sipping her mug of Yerba Mate tea and reached for the phone. She pressed the speed dial for Flossie’s guesthouse. “Hi, Mom, are you up yet?”

“Oh, this must be my little Goldie. Madame Pompadour would never call me until at least ten. So, what’s up?”

“Well, Mom, one thing that’s up is Godiva...”

“No! What’s she doing awake so early?”

“It doesn’t look good, Mom. Caesar’s in big trouble. Call Uncle Sterling and wake him up. Both of you need to haul your rusty butts over here. We’ve got some brainstorming to do.”

Half an hour later everyone was gathered in the living room. Godiva cradled her cup of coffee and appeared to be praying to some hidden deity. Goldie, far less rattled, took charge of relating the essence of Caesar’s phone call. Flossie and Sterling sat side by side on the loveseat, hanging on every word.

Goldie summed it up for them. “I guess this Lieutenant Adams told Caesar that they were taking statements from a lot of the Food Broadcasting employees and quite a few of them mentioned that Caesar was shouting and screaming at Wellington yesterday morning. Personally, I can’t picture him doing that, but...”

Goldie raised an eyebrow when her mother and uncle seemed to be exchanging nervous glances. Flossie cleared her throat, her voice a bit raspy. “Caesar, shouting and screaming? I can’t imagine that. What do you think, Sterling?”

For some reason Sterling looked a bit sheepish. Goldie watched her uncle for an answer.
Guess this really upset them. Poor old ducks.

He smiled weakly. “I’m with you Flossie. Can’t imagine it.”

CHAPTER 33

Goldie rolled her eyes and Godiva nodded. The same thought popped into both heads at once.
What have they been up to?

Godiva spoke first. “Mom, Unk, is there something you want to tell us? It’s just not like you to say so little. Where’s your educated opinion? Where’s the lecture we would normally get?”

The octogenarians just shrugged. Sterling’s cheeks turned the color of beet borscht.

With an unmirthful smile Goldie joined in. “Okay. Out with it. Uncle Sterling, you never were very good at keeping secrets.”

Sterling turned to Flossie and muttered, “Jig’s up, Sherlock.”

Flossie shrugged. “Darn it, Sterling. You always cave in.”

They gulped, they nodded, they confessed. Then they all went into the kitchen to refill their cups. Flossie and Sterling stood opposite the sisters and acted out their escapades in Wellington’s office. The more they talked, the worse it sounded for Caesar.

“Well, girls,” Flossie blurted out, “I really couldn’t imagine it. Never in a thousand years would I have pictured Caesar in such a rage.”

Sterling nodded.

“Mean. He was downright mean-spirited, threatening Wellington with his face all screwed up and red and waving clenched fists at him and calling out the most awful things...”

Sterling added, “And that Wellington, you should have seen how he treated the poor young man who worked for him and that pretty little Candy Vandy. Those two kids were scared to death.”

Flossie crossed her arms and puffed out her chest. “Caesar was so mad he didn’t even recognize us. Guess that was a good thing.”

“Mom, get real. How was he supposed to recognize you when you and Uncle Sterling probably looked like Ma and Pa Kettle? For God’s sake. When you decide to poke your nose where it doesn’t belong, you could at least have the decency not to look like you’re living on welfare. What if the neighbors saw you? I could be arrested for elder abuse.”

Flossie looked at her daughters like a wizened sage. “Look, girls. This might be one of those times when a person we all really like might not be the person we think he is.”

Goldie put her arm around Godiva. “That may be possible, but let’s not jump to conclusions. He’s got enough trouble right now with that bitchy police lieutenant breathing down his neck. We believe he’s innocent and by golly, we’re all going to help him.”

Flossie’s eyes crackled with anticipation. “So, does that mean you two girls are going to do your own little investigation? Don’t think the cops can figure this one out?”

Godiva and Goldie exchanged glances. Waldo, who was snoozing by the back door, raised his large head for a moment, looked around, uttered something that really sounded like
“waaatch it”
and then went back to sleep, occasionally growling or twitching his back leg.

Godiva stood and paced around the kitchen. “This is a high-profile case. I’m almost positive Caesar didn’t do it, but who knows what the cops might do to pin this on him? What if they doctor evidence? They’ve been known to do that, you know.”

Goldie slammed her cup down and splashed tea on the placemat. “The reality is if Lieutenant Adams can pull it off, guilty or not, she’ll nail Romano. Think about it. She becomes the hero. After all, Caesar did threaten Wellington in front of hundreds of thousands of television viewers. Then several people at Food Broadcasting—including our own senior snoops—saw a violent argument with Wellington not long before that idiot was killed.”

Godiva leaped to Caesar’s defense. “Just because Caesar has a bad temper, it doesn’t mean he’s a murderer.”

“Still, they might try to make an open and shut case since poor Caesar’s such an easy target. Lieutenant Adams can get a lot of good press out of this.” She looked meaningfully at Flossie and Sterling. “You guys were right there. Do you realize you could be suspects, too? Hopefully no one will be able to describe you very well. Just a couple of doddering, unkempt old cleaners.”

Sterling snorted. “Right, we really look like bloodthirsty murderers, don’t we? You can jus’ call me ‘Sterling the Shiv’ and dis here’s my sidekick.” He tweaked his thumb in Flossie’s direction. “Senile Sadie.” Sterling snarled, “Don’ mess wit us.”

Godiva laughed. “Seriously, Caesar needs our help. There have to be more suspects and we’re not going to wait for the cops to dig them up. We might as well start now. You said that Wellington’s assistant was in the office when all of this happened?”

“Sure was. The poor kid was cowering behind the door a-shakin’ in his boots. Guess I would too, if I was in his place.”

Chili stood in the doorway listening and then joined them. “Well, I for one am not afraid of Chef Romano. He’s a great boss and I know he couldn’t kill anyone. He even, like, cuts his vegetables gently. Shove a knife in someone’s back? No way! I do want you to help him, but listen Mom, you and Aunt Godiva better be careful sniffing around. We’re talking, real, live murderer here. If Dad calls, I’ll tell him you’re shopping for antiques.”

“Thanks, Chili, when I talked to Red last night he was ready to come to California and drag both of us back to Alaska kicking and screaming.”

“Say, Aunt Godiva. If the advice stuff ever slows down maybe you and Mom could write detective novels. It’s so cool the way you guys figure these things out.”

“There’s really no special trick, Chili. The two of us just seem to have a keen sense of the obvious. We don’t go looking for trouble, but we do love a challenge, don’t we, Sis?”

Goldie nodded. “Yeah. It’s true. Growing up around magicians makes you realize that people miss the obvious all the time. When we were kids, we loved doing puzzles. We solved our first real mystery when we were about thirteen...”

“Yeah, the man next door...”

Flossie’s eyes lit up, “Mr. Feinstein!”

“His wife clobbered him with a frozen turkey, then put it in the oven and cooked it.”

“She gave the damn bird to us.” Flossie clutched her heart. “They were carrying the poor man out and we were eating the evidence.”

Goldie patted her mother on the shoulder, “Remember? We all worked it out together while we were eating, wondering why she didn’t stuff the turkey...”

“…and, it wasn’t basted, either. She was such a good cook, it just didn’t seem right.”

“By the time Dad had eaten the second drumstick, we figured out what happened. Guess it just runs in the family.”

“Well, I didn’t get that gene. I can’t even finish a crossword.” With a toss of her hair and an exaggerated wave, Chili turned and headed out the door. “Gotta go, I have my own challenges. I’m off to the studio. I’m sure Wellington’s area is, like, all blocked off and probably crawling with cops, but
Flirting with Food
still has a show to get together for Friday. Caesar probably needs me more than ever today. See ya.”

Despite Chili’s interruption, Goldie wasn’t ready to let the geriatric “janitors” off the hook. “Okay, you two, we’ll figure out what you can do to help, but just stay out of trouble today. I think Godiva and I will pay another visit to Angel at the
Times
. Maybe she found out something else that might help Caesar.”

Flossie and Sterling both nodded, reluctantly promising to stay put for the day.

“You mean we can’t dress up in costumes again? I really had fun doing that.”

“You’re turning into an old duck, Mom. Remember, you just told us how terrified you were.” Goldie winked at Godiva. “I think your brain’s getting to be like Swiss cheese.”

Wrinkling her forehead in mock exasperation, Flossie shot a pleading look at Sterling, “
Oy vey
, Sterling. Listen the way they talk to their mother.” Then she turned to the twins, “I got this way from raising you girls. There were so many times I thought I was losing my mind. You see? It was what they call a self-fulfilling prophecy...I finally did lose it.”

Sterling refused to get involved. He turned to Goldie. “So what can you find out from that Angel girl that you didn’t find in Cotati?”

Goldie returned to the question at hand. “Well, Unk, the folks we spoke to in Cotati and the stuff we found at that dusty old newspaper didn’t paint Biff as a very nice guy. He’s been stepping on toes for years. There must be lots of people who wanted to kill him. Someone had to have a really good reason to plunge that knife into him.”

Godiva interrupted. “I’m hoping Angel can dig up more recent information that will help us find the real killer. Caesar’s loud Italian temper may have put him at the top of the list, but I know there’s someone else out there with a better motive.”

Sterling looked into his empty coffee cup as though he was reading tea leaves. “At least those detectives haven’t done anything foolish like arrest him. But who knows what will happen next?”

Goldie threw up her hands in exasperation. “I just don’t get it, there was nothing in his horoscope this week to indicate this kind of trouble. It was supposed to be a great week for all of us!”

“Hmmm,” said her uncle.

She turned to Godiva. “Doesn’t Angel’s boyfriend work out of the Hollywood station? Maybe he’s heard something. Think he would have said something to Angel?”

Godiva shrugged her shoulders and reached across the sofa to pick up a polished steel designer phone that looked like a Martian landing craft. She dialed from memory.

Flossie said to no one in particular, “My darling daughter. Just like a walking phonebook. Ask her a number and she has it. My Harry, he should rest in peace, had that gift, too. I swear I don’t know how they do it. I can’t even remember the year I was born.”

“Flossie,” Sterling interrupted, “that’s not because you can’t remember numbers. You lied about your age for so many years, now you really don’t remember when you were born!”

By this time Godiva was having a conversation with Angel. “So glad I caught you before you ate. We’ll take you to lunch. Meet you out front in an hour.”

CHAPTER 34

It was easy to spot Angel Batista shifting from one foot to another in front of the
Times
building. But, when the big, midnight blue Lincoln slid to a stop directly in front of her, there was no reaction.

“What’s the matter with Angel? Why doesn’t she just hop in?”

Goldie chuckled. “Last time we were in the roadster. She probably doesn’t realize this tank is her ride.” She rolled down the window and called out. “Angel, over here.”

The startled young woman gaped at the Lincoln for a moment and then, recognizing Goldie, opened the door and jumped into the back seat. “I’m sorry. I was watching for your little silver Mercedes. This is yours, too?”

Godiva nodded self consciously, realizing that Angel probably had all she could do just to make payments on her little Geo. “I figured we’d be more comfortable in this one. Now, where to?”

Angel stammered a bit and then said, “I made reservations at Café Pinot. I hope that’s all right.”

“Café Pinot is great. Do you eat there often?”

“No. Actually, I’ve never been there. But it seemed like a place you would like. My boyfriend’s a cop, so it’s out of our budget. I hope I didn’t overstep.”