Seams Like Murder (8 page)

It was a relief to finally get home. The animals were waiting by the door like a welcoming committee. I let Felix and Cosmo go outside before trying to coax Blondie out of her chair. It was too dark for the cats to go outside, though they didn’t seem to share my sentiment and Mr. Kitty tried to open the door with his paws.

“Sorry, guys,” I said, pushing the door tightly shut. I had rushed home during my so-called break to tend to them, but I really missed having my son there. It made it a lot easier when there was someone else to share the animals’ care with. Plus, technically three of them were his.

When the dogs came inside I gave the whole crew an extra round of treats, but then it was time to take care of me. In all the commotion I had forgotten to eat, and now my hunger showed up with a vengeance. Luckily, I was prepared. Knowing how busy my life had been lately, I had cooked up a big pot of vegetable stew that would last for
days. There were biscuits left over from my morning baking, too. All I had to do was heat everything up.

The stew was just beginning to simmer and fill the kitchen with a delicious scent when the phone rang. I figured it was Mason with some plan to convince me to come over, so I grabbed it before the robot voice announced who the call was from.

“Okay, what is it? Did they tie you up and start force-feeding you that awful-sounding fudge?” I said with a laugh in my voice.

“What?” the voice on the phone said. It was only one word, but enough for me to recognize who it was.

“Barry?” I said. I’m sure I sounded surprised.

“I’m sorry for calling so late. I tried to reach you before on your cell.” He made a hopeless sound. In a world where everyone seemed to be walking around staring at the screen on their smartphone like they were some kind of zombie, I mostly ignored mine. I didn’t find texts until days after they were sent, and I preferred to be where I was when I was there instead of sending somebody a picture of it. My lack of interest in the phone seemed to rub everyone the wrong way, though, because I wasn’t instantly accessible. “It’s business,” he added quickly. “You know the thing about the first forty-eight hours being crucial to a case. The trail is still fresh. Since you were there this morning when everything went down, I’d like to talk to you.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “You know I talked to the other cop at the scene, right?”

“Right,” he said tersely. “That was just to take a statement. I’d really like to talk to you directly.”

“When did you have in mind?”

“Would now work?” He asked it like a question, but I
knew Barry well enough to know that he meant we were going to have this conversation now, like it or not.

“I suppose so.” I looked around at the kitchen, turned off the stew, and put something over the biscuits to keep them warm. “How long until you get here?”

“Now. I’m out front.” I went into the living room and looked out into the dark front yard. The streetlight reflected off the black Crown Vic parked at the curb. He was already cutting across the grass. Lots of cops let themselves go after they left the academy, but not Barry. He lifted weights and did some kind of cardio workout, so that even in his fifties he was trim and could still take off after a suspect and catch them. A moment later there was a soft knock at the door.

Even though the knock was quiet, Felix and Cosmo heard it and scrambled, barking, toward the front door. Once I opened the door, though, Cosmo recognized Barry and greeted him by putting his paws up on his pants leg.

Barry was in work mode now, which meant his face had a “just the facts, ma’am” look about it. But Cosmo’s greeting cut right through it, and Barry’s expression broke as he leaned down to pet the dog’s head. He looked at Felix, who was holding his ground and continuing to bark.

“Who are you?” he asked, as if the dog would identify himself.

“It’s a long story,” I said, closing the door behind him. Quickly, he stopped petting Cosmo and went back into his cop mode, a mixture of authority and impassiveness.

We stopped in the entrance hall, and he glanced toward the living room. “Where do you want to do this?”

“I was just about to eat something. How about the dining room?” I took his nod as agreement, walked into the room, and turned on the light.

“I always liked that table,” he said. I did, too. It was one-of-a-kind, made out of a heavy slab of glass set on a polished tree stump. His gaze moved to the French doors that looked out on the backyard. I realized pretty quickly that he wasn’t looking out at the view and had totally missed the floodlights illuminating the orange trees, which were still laden with white blossoms. Barry’s gaze had stopped on the door handle of the middle door, or rather where the handle was supposed to be. For now there was just the hole. The actual handle was sitting on the floor in front of the door.

“It fell off last week,” I said. “I have to get it fixed.” He didn’t say anything, but I was pretty sure he was thinking about how when we’d been a couple, he’d taken care of all those little household jobs. In fact, my house had never been in better shape than when I was dating Barry. I hoped he wouldn’t notice the switch plate was loose, too. Just as I was thinking about that, he moved one of the dining room chairs and the leg fell off.

I feigned surprise, even though I’d known it was loose for weeks. I pushed it against the wall to steady it and put the leg across the seat. “Don’t worry, the other chairs are fine.” I pulled one out and sat in it to prove it was true. “This probably isn’t in line with your usual procedure, and I don’t know if you’re allowed to eat on duty, but are you hungry?”

His cop face broke again, and he appeared slightly embarrassed. “More like starved,” he said.

“It’s nothing fancy, but I can offer you what I’m having.”

“Anything is fine. I’ve had your cooking. It’s all good.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I joked. I pulled out a couple of place mats, set them on the table, and gestured for him to have a seat, but he followed me into the kitchen. I could hear him sniffing the air, and who could blame him?
The comforting scent of the stew and the buttery smell of the biscuits was making my mouth water in anticipation.

“Let me help,” he said. When I seemed surprised at the offer, his smile deepened. “Remember, we’re supposed to protect and
serve
.”

I took him up on the offer, and together we brought in silverware, napkins and the food.

“You might as well start asking me whatever you came here to ask,” I said, changing the subject.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait a few minutes.” He took the napkin and put it in his lap.

“I thought you were in such a hurry to keep going before the trail of clues dried up.”

He glanced down at the food in front of him. “If you have to know, I’m so hungry I can’t think straight. I had it under control until I smelled the food.” I held out the basket of biscuits, and he took one.

“Homemade?” he asked. By the time I answered, he was already eating it. His eyes closed with the pleasure of the taste.

I had set the places so we sat across from each other, and for a few minutes we both just ate. It’s probably not good manners to compliment myself, but I love my own food. The broth of the stew was thick and tasty. It was loaded with mushrooms, potatoes, peas, carrots and even small cobs of corn. And the biscuits really did melt in your mouth. I’d added hunks of cheese and tangerines on the side to round things off. It was a simple meal but very satisfying.

Barry finished his bowl and polished off a couple more biscuits, several hunks of cheese and two tangerines, then sat back with a satisfied sigh. “Thank you. I feel human again.”

At that, he became cop Barry again, pulling out his notebook and starting to ask me questions.

He opened by asking me why we had all been at CeeCee’s this morning. I brought up Yarn University and the upcoming classes and Sheila’s problem.

“You’re doing that in addition to everything else you do at the bookstore?”

“I’m the assistant manager now,” I said. I noticed Barry had stopped taking notes and was looking directly at me as he spoke.

“I hope all those new responsibilities came with a pay raise.” He actually sounded concerned.

“It all depends on how Yarn University turns out,” I said. “Is this part of your investigation?” He appeared momentarily uncomfortable and poised his pen over his notebook.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get sidetracked. So, tell me why you all went up to the guest apartment.” He paused briefly. “Let me rephrase that. What prompted you all to go up there?” It sounded like an innocent enough question, but I knew none of Barry’s questions were innocent, so I answered as briefly as possible.

“CeeCee had this grand plan about making it into a studio—she wants to direct videos of us crocheting to put on YouTube.” I don’t think he was particularly happy with that, but since I had actually answered his question, there wasn’t anyplace for him to go but to move on.

Barry scribbled down some notes. “Who actually discovered the body?” Barry had an even expression, but I knew that he already knew the answer.

I raised my hand, which was stupid because there was nobody else there. “I did.” I started to relive the whole thing in my head, trying to remember exactly how it had happened. Barry noticed my eyes shifting back and forth and realized what I was doing. That was the problem with being questioned by someone who knew you too well.

“How about you tell me what’s going on in your head.” There was just the hint of a smile on his lips. I shrugged and began to talk.

“CeeCee was ahead of me on the stairs, but when we got to the top and she realized there was something wrong, she pushed me ahead of her. She was pretty much out of commission after that. I think it was Rhoda who helped her sit down on the stairs because she seemed faint.”

“You know CeeCee pretty well. She’s an Oscar-nominated actor. Do you think her shock was genuine?”

“Seriously? You think CeeCee was acting? You didn’t see her. She had her head between her knees.”

He didn’t offer any sort of answer but instead took something out of the zippered case he had with him. “I want to show you a photograph,” he said. He set it on the table and pushed it closer to me. “Do you recognize her?”

I looked at it closely. A woman was sitting at a table. A croissant with a birthday candle stuck in it was sitting in front of her. I recognized the background and realized it was taken at Le Grande Fromage. I couldn’t help myself and answered his question with a question. “Why are you asking?”

A ripple of frustration crossed Barry’s face. “Molly, please just answer the question. We’re both on the same side. We want justice for bad guys.”

Maybe we were, but we didn’t always agree who those bad guys were. Barry tended to believe too strongly in his cop instinct. Once he’d locked on to who he thought had done something, he was like a terrier with a bone—he wouldn’t let go. I, on the other hand, tried to keep an open mind as I followed the clues.

“Sure, but I want to know why you want to know. Is she the victim?” I did recognize her, but I was doing my best not to show it in my face until I knew why he wanted to know.

“Okay, I give up. Yes, this is the victim.” He gestured toward the picture again. I tried to match up the face with what I’d seen in CeeCee’s guest apartment. The only part of the photo that matched was the rust-colored hair. “So, do you know her?” he repeated.

I nodded, and Barry rolled his head with frustration when I didn’t expound on that. “What about the cause of death? Was I right about it being carbon monoxide? Do you think it was accidental or something else?”

“I don’t have to tell you that,” he said. “Can’t you pretend that you don’t know me and I’m just a detective who stopped by to ask you some questions, and maybe you’re a little nervous and anxious to cooperate since you found the body and I might think you’re a suspect?”

“Aha, a suspect! There aren’t suspects in accidents. You must think it
is
foul play.”

Barry put up his hands in capitulation. “We don’t know what it is yet. It’s up to the coroner to decide. If you want all the gross details, when the body was moved, they found vomit that had alcohol and pill residue in it. Her face was cherry red, which I’m sure you probably already know is a sign of carbon monoxide poisoning. And when we checked the vent, it was clogged with a bunch of twigs. Now will you tell me what you know?”

When I hesitated, he pulled out his trump card. “You know what can happen to people who withhold evidence.” In spite of himself, his lips curved into a small smile. We both knew it was an idle threat and there was no way he was going to arrest me.

“There’s no reason to hide it,” I said. “I didn’t recognize her at first. She’s not a friend—more like an acquaintance. I’d say hi when I saw her, but that was pretty much it. Actually, I haven’t seen her in a while, so I have no idea what was going on in her life.”

“Do you suppose you could give me her name?” Barry asked.

“C’mon. I’m sure you know it by now.” He gave me a look and urged me on. “Okay, her name is Delaney Tanner,” I said finally. There was some dead air after that.

“And what else can you tell me about her?”

I shrugged. “Our paths used to cross a lot, but not lately.” I decided that was enough information to give him, but in my mind’s eye I had an image of standing in line with Delaney and our kids on the first day of kindergarten. We were never really friends. She was much more interested in being part of the “in” crowd than I was, though it seemed like she was always just shy of truly belonging there. It was funny how I used to see her all the time at school functions and now it had been years since I’d run into her.

“What’s her connection to CeeCee?” he asked.

His question made sense, and frankly, I was wondering about it myself. “Why don’t you ask CeeCee directly?” I said, and Barry grumbled. “How did you figure out who the victim was?”

Barry shook his head. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to pick my brain for your future investigations. Uh-uh. I’m not giving away any trade secrets.”