Drowning in Amber (A Marie Jenner Mystery Book 2) (19 page)

Coffee for everyone, it seemed.

Most of them made happy old lady sounds as they settled in their chairs. One of them even pulled off a shoe and rubbed her instep as I brought everybody a coffee.

Then I walked back behind my desk and sat down. The twittering slowed, and then stopped.

“So, how can I help you?” I asked.

“We have a few questions, young lady,” Bea said, after sipping the coffee and nodding her head, once, like she was giving it her approval.

“What kind of questions?” I asked.

The Queen didn’t answer. Just narrowed her eyes in an uniquely infuriating way. “What were you doing at Naomi’s? You upset her, with all your questions about her son, Edward.”

I glanced around. Eddie’s mom, Naomi, wasn’t in the room.

“It’s Eddie, you old cow!” Eddie yelled.

I glanced over at him, and he shut his mouth, but I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t going to keep control for long. I hoped he would, because I had to find out why they were here.

“You mean Eddie?” I asked, and saw Eddie relax, a little bit.

“Yes,” Bea said. “I suppose. Though I never understood his need to use a contraction of his name. Seemed so—boyish. Don’t you think so, girls?”

The rest of the women nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with Queen Bea, and obviously not seeing the irony of her calling Eddie’s name boyish, and then calling them girls.

“I’m sorry I upset Eddie’s mother, but it was important that I speak to her about her son,” I said. “We’re trying to solve his murder—”

“Aren’t the police doing that?” one of the other women asked. Bea gave her a “you stole my line” look that could probably wither corn on the stalk, and the woman shut her mouth with a small snap. I tried to hide the nasty little smile that came over me, even though it was really nice to see that Bea could be rattled.

“Yes, of course they’re doing what they can,” I said. “But we’ve been hired to exonerate a person of interest—and if we can solve the murder at the same time, then that will help the police. Won’t it?”

“Yes, yes, those poor dears, run off their feet the way they are, any help is good, I’m sure,” Bea said. She looked like she thought she was back in control, just where she liked it. “And who are you trying to exonerate, dear?”

I smiled at her, wishing my lips didn’t feel quite so angry tight. The old woman was getting under my skin, darn it, anyhow. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

Bea smiled. It wasn’t pleasant to see. Felt a bit like watching a shark smile. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said, and settled back in her chair, clutching her oversized purse in her hands like she was settling in for a really long talk, one that would probably last until she got the information she wanted.

“I’m afraid it’s a matter of client confidentiality,” I said. I smiled even harder, letting the old woman know I wasn’t going to let her push me around.

Eddie whispered, “You go, girl!” and pumped his arm in the air a couple of times. I ignored him, concentrating on the smiling old woman sitting before me.

“But you’re not a doctor, dear,” she said. “Or a lawyer.” She looked around the office again, and clucked. “Doesn’t even look like you’re much of a private investigator. You do have a licence, don’t you?”

“I am not the private investigator,” I said, and stopped with the smiling. She was really starting to bug me. The rest of the old biddies leaned back in their chairs, but Bea leaned forward, ready to do battle.

“So who is?”

“James Lavall.”

“And why wasn’t he conducting the investigation?”

“That is none of your business.” I opened a small pad of paper, and picked up my pen. “I’ll need your names, please.”

“Why?” Finally, Bea looked taken aback. I liked to see that look on her face. I really did.

“You’ll have to be checked out,” I said. “You’ve decided to become involved in an ongoing investigation, for some reason. I believe it goes past just being Eddie’s mother’s friend.” I glared at the woman sitting to Bea’s right. “Name and address, please.”

The woman opened her mouth as if she was about to give me everything I’d asked for. This brought Bea back to attention.

“Shut your mouth, Edna. You don’t need to tell this young woman anything.” She stared at me, obviously hoping to break my will down with a look.

Not a chance.

“If you have nothing to hide, why wouldn’t you tell me your names?” I asked, pen still poised over the paper. “Not telling me makes you look guilty, you know.”

“Oh Bea, maybe we should tell her,” a woman sitting near the door said. “We have nothing to hide—”

“Fine,” Bea snapped. “If you need our names and addresses so you can check us all out, we’ll give them to you. We have nothing at all to hide, do we, girls?”

“No,” the woman to the right of Bea said, and I swore I heard a hint of “I told you so” in her voice.

Looks like a bit of a mutiny there, Queen Bea.

In five minutes, I had all their contact information written down. I closed the pad of paper and put down the pen.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” I said. “And now, if there isn’t anything else, perhaps you should be on your way. I have a very full day, and—”

“Oh no,” Bea said, shaking her head vigorously. “We came here for some answers, missy. We are not leaving until we get them. We gave you everything you wanted. Turnabout is fair play.”

There was some additional grumbling from the other women, and it looked like I was going to be stuck with an old lady sit-in if I wasn’t careful.

Darn it. I’d thought it would work.

I plastered the smile back on my face. “What information are you looking for?”

“Are you absolutely certain Eddie was murdered?” Bea asked the question quickly, as if afraid that if she wasn’t fast, I’d reconsider, and they’d be left sitting there drinking cold coffee and getting nothing more.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. That much information they could have gleaned from the morning news.

“Do you have any idea at all who could have done it?”

“I am not at liberty—”

“Yes, yes, fine,” Bea snapped. Her lips thinned as she thought, hard. “Would you like some help?”

What?

“What kind of help?” I asked. Had these old women actually figured something out about Eddie’s murder? “Do you know something—”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” Bea replied, shaking her head. “However, we have some—expertise in solving crimes of this sort, don’t we, girls?”

Assenting noises from the other old women, and I stared. What were they talking about? What kind of expertise could they have?

“We’ve studied under the masters,” Bea said. “For years.”

“The masters?” I asked.

“Doyle, Patterson, Christie, Roberts. You know. The best the literary world has to offer.”

“The literary—” I blinked. “You’re talking about mystery writers. Right?”

“Of course,” Bea replied. “We’ve studied them extensively and understand exactly how to run an investigation. Don’t we, girls?”

More rumblings of assent from the rest. Oh, my. I had to nip this in the bud.

“I don’t think—” I started, but Bea cut me off. Again. It was getting tiresome; it really was.

“As a matter of fact, we only came here as a courtesy,” she said. “To find out who you were and why you were bothering Naomi. However, I like your face and believe you are trustworthy.”

“Well, thank you,” I said.

“We’ve already started our investigation. When it’s complete, we’ll bring you our findings, gratis.”

“Gratis?” I tried to keep smiling, but it was starting to hurt. What I wanted to do was laugh, but I guessed that would probably be a bad thing to do. I imagined Bea could get vicious if someone laughed at her.

“That means for free, girl,” Bea snapped. “We’ll go out and solve this mystery. Not for you, of course. We’re doing it for Naomi. But we will share our findings with you. So you can find out if your secret client is guilty or not.”

Bea grabbed her huge handbag and hitched the straps over her shoulder, then hauled herself upright. The rest of the women took it as the signal that they were finally leaving, and all stood.

“Oh,” I said, and belatedly stood, too. I
had
to put a stop to this before they left. “Thanks, but I don’t think—”

“We are doing this for Naomi, girl,” Bea repeated, her eyes glittering dangerously. “For you, we’ll call this a test. If we do a good job, we
will
expect you to consider us for your other endeavours. And we will expect to be paid.”

“Oh.” I glanced around the room, hoping against hope that the rest of the women—or maybe one of them—thought this was a bad idea. But no, all heads were bobbing enthusiastically. Eddie wasn’t even any help, because he was laughing his butt off in the corner of the room. I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, to get myself back under control. “Oh. Well. Thank you. I will definitely keep that in mind.”

“See that you do,” Bea replied. She dug in her voluminous bag and pulled out a business card, which she dropped on the desk in front of me. “You can reach me there.”

“Thanks.”

“And you?” Bea asked.

“Me what?”

“Give me your card, girl,” Bea snapped.

Seriously? Handing out that stupid business card had brought me nothing but trouble so far, but Bea’s hand stayed outstretched. I had this horrible feeling that she could stand there, like a statue, forever, if I didn’t give her what she wanted.

I opened a drawer, and stared into the huge mess of stuff I’d dumped in there after the break-in. I shifted some stuff, and one popped into view. I pulled the card from the mess and handed it to Bea.

“The number’s on the front,” I said. “Call if you have any information.”

“Oh no, this is not the way this is done, girl,” Bea replied. She turned to the rest of the women and snorted indignant laughter. “As if we’d do this over the telephone.” The rest obediently tittered, and Bea turned back to me, staring with her shark-cold eyes.

“No. The only reason we’d call would be to set up a meeting. To discuss our findings and so forth.”

She dropped the card in her purse and led the way out of the office, the rest of the women bobbing along in her wake like a handful of dinghies following an ocean liner.

I didn’t move until I heard the downstairs door slap shut. Then I dropped Bea’s business card in the garbage.

“Where did your mother find those women, Eddie?” I asked.

“No idea,” Eddie replied. “No idea at all.”

But he was lying to me. I could tell.

I sighed, and sat down at my desk. Time to check out these women and find out what their secrets were. If Eddie wouldn’t tell me, I’d find out myself.

ACTUALLY, I KNEW
exactly where my mother had found the women from her book club, but Marie didn’t need to know that Bea Winterburn had been running the local “Tough Love” group, and my mother had joined when I first got in trouble with the law.

After a few months, Bea and Mom had figured out that they both liked to read mysteries, and Bea invited her to join the book club she’d organized. All the women were old and cranky, like Bea, but even though Mom was at least twenty years younger, she fit right in.

And between the stupid mysteries, Bea kept telling Mom to get me out of her life. For her own good.

No. Marie didn’t need to know any of that.

“No idea,” I said. “No idea at all.”

Marie glanced at me, and I could tell she knew I was lying. More lying. I felt exhausted. I also felt like I needed to get high and let it all drift away.

“I gotta go.”

“Eddie?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

“I’m dead. I’m as far from all right as I can get.” I didn’t turn around or anything. I just wanted to get out. “I gotta go.”

I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. I knew the book club hadn’t killed me. I knew I’d picked them to blame because it felt like they’d made my life miserable for almost as long as I could remember. I just wanted a little payback. At least, I had. Now I didn’t know. It seemed stupid, and childish, and pointless. I was dead. I needed to let this stuff go. “I’ll be back.”

“When?”

“Later!” I snapped, then closed my eyes. I remembered saying the same thing to my mom, when she’d asked me that question. “Later,” I said, trying to make my voice sound more reasonable. “After I—”

“Get high?”

That stopped me. “Maybe.”

“It’d be better if you didn’t do that, Eddie,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because, if you want to move on, you need to feel the feelings and really understand. You can’t do that high. You’re hiding behind the drugs. You get that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll think about it.” Then I left, before she could say anything more, and hit the sidewalk almost running.