Steamed (9 page)
Authors: Jessica Conant-Park,Susan Conant
Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Mystery Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #Boston (Mass.), #Cooks, #Women Graduate Students
Timothy returned with a skinny man in his late forties or so with incredibly mussed-up black hair. “Hey there, Chloe,” Tim said somberly. “This is Detective Scott Hurley. He’s got to ask you about tonight. I told him how distraught you are, but he says it can’t wait. Are you going to be okay talking to him?”
“I think I’ll be fine. But thank you for your concern,” I told Tim, who then left with Cassie.
Detective Hurley looked exhausted, as if he’d been working nonstop all day or maybe even all week. He seated himself across from me at the table, ran his hands through his hair, and looked right at me. “Ma’am, I’m very sorry for your loss. You’re the girlfriend, huh? And you found the body?” he asked, jumping right to the point. “Name?” he continued, pulling a pen from behind his ear.
“Eric Rafferty,” I answered.
“Not the victim’s name. Your name.” He glared at me.
“Oh, sorry. I’m Chloe Carter,” I answered. He took my address and phone number, and asked me to describe my relationship with the victim.
I leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, to be honest, I didn’t have a relationship with him. I just met Eric tonight. We were on a blind date. Well, an Internet date. I met him through Back Bay Dates, one of those online dating services, and this was our first date.”
“You’re not his girlfriend? Timothy and a couple of the waitstaff here said you two were pretty involved. Said you’d only been together less than a month, but that things were hot and heavy.”
“No, I’m definitely not Eric’s girlfriend. Wasn’t. I just saw him for the first time tonight. Maybe he’d been dating someone else. You know, he did say that he used to go out with the woman who does the books for Essence and for Timothy’s old restaurant, Magellan. Veronica, he said her name was. I think that’s right.”
“Last name?”
“Sorry, I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Timothy. I don’t know much about Eric, except that he was thinking about investing in Essence. He wanted to eat here tonight to check it out again. He said he used to eat at Magellan a lot, and so he knew Timothy through there. I don’t even know exactly what he does, well,
did
, for a living. Something to do with financial planning and having clients.”
did
, for a living. Something to do with financial planning and having clients.”
The detective leaned back in his chair and adjusted his wrinkled gray suit. “So I don’t suppose you’d have any idea why your date is dead in the restaurant’s restroom, then, huh?” He actually smiled a little.
I shook my head apologetically.
“Since I’m assuming this man didn’t slit his own throat, we’re treating this as a homicide. And I’ve got to find out everything I can about what went on tonight. So, tell me exactly how you met him. About this Internet dating thing. And take me through everything that happened tonight.” Hurley sighed as if expecting my description of my time with Eric to be as boring as it actually—and, in retrospect, sadly—had been.
I ran through the events of the past day. Hurley asked questions. In particular, he wanted to hear about exboyfriends of mine. Trying not to portray myself as a total idiot, I reluctantly told him the whole story about Noah and concluded by saying, “Noah is sort of a jerk. You know, one of those fear-of-commitment guys? Definitely a mistake on my part. But if you think he had anything to do with this, you’re totally wrong. I guarantee you that there is no possibility that Noah would ever be jealous that I was going on a date.”
“All right, give me his last name, address, and phone number.” The detective had a pen and notebook ready. Oh, great, like I really needed the police questioning Noah about Eric’s murder! Now Noah would definitely know that my date had been a miserable failure. And be totally pissed at me for siccing the police on him.
“No, no, please don’t talk to him! He didn’t even know where I was going tonight,” I pleaded.
“We just have to cover all the bases here.”
I reluctantly reeled off Noah’s info.
“Now, you also said Eric got a phone call. He had an argument on the phone. Do you know who he was talking to? Or what they were arguing about?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea. Just someone named Phil. Can’t you trace the call? And it wasn’t exactly an argument. It sounded more like Eric was irritated with whomever he was talking to. Like he’d already had the same conversation before. He just said something like, ‘I told you to take care of it.’ And that’s when he left to finish the call. And that was the last time I saw him. Well, saw him alive. His phone was on the floor next to him in the men’s room. And it rang while I was in there.”
“Let’s go back to just before you left for the ladies’ room. See if you can tell me who you saw.”
“Just people at their tables. And Garrett. The chef. And Cassie. Our waitress. She showed me where the restrooms were,” I said.
“So you didn’t see Timothy or any other staff members?” the detective questioned me.
“I don’t know. Um, well, no, not that I remember.”
“Okay, and this waiter? Ian? What exactly did Eric say to him when he was walking away with him?” The detective leaned over the table and looked right at me.
“Um, I think he said, ‘Remember what we talked about.’ That’s all I heard. Eric didn’t say anything about it when he came back to our table. I don’t know what he meant. But it was a statement. A reminder. Not a question.”
Detective Hurly asked me to point out the couple who had had the dispute with Ian, but they were nowhere in sight. “They must have left soon after that,” I said. “They were getting dessert, so they must have left while Eric and I were still eating.”
“All right. That should do it for now. I’ll get in touch if I have any more questions for you, but you might as well get home. And, hey. Chloe? I’m sorry you had to find his body. It’s not pleasant stuff. I’ve been doing this job for almost twenty years, and it’s not easy.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Um, can I ask you a question?”
He nodded.
“Well, when I found Eric, I didn’t do anything. I mean, do you think . . . was there anything I could’ve done? What if, you know, he was still alive?” I started to tear up.
“No. From what I know, there wasn’t a thing you could’ve done. Except contaminate the crime scene. That’s what Timothy did, trying to help. Did more harm than good.”
“I saw the knife. In there. It was a strange knife. With that curved handle?” Now I could feel a few tears run down my cheeks. My disbelief and shock were wearing off, and I was scared and confused.
Without saying anything about the knife, Detective Hurley reached over and patted my hand. “Here’s my card, Chloe. Call me if you think of anything else. Now, why don’t you go home and get some rest.”
So I left Essence without saying good-bye to anyone.
SIX
I slept deeply that Sunday night, almost as if my blind date’s murder had put me in a protective coma. I woke up late on Monday morning and flicked on the television only to be bombarded with news updates detailing Eric Rafferty’s murder. Tim Rock appeared on an interview. Looking haggard, he kept repeating that he was so sorry this had happened and that the entire staff sent their condolences to Eric’s friends and family.
I’d left a message for Adrianna the night before, and when the phone rang at eleven that morning, caller ID informed me that she was getting back to me. Finally. I picked up the phone and started crying.
“I’m coming over,” she promised. “Just hold on. I’ll pick up supplies and be there soon.”
For once, I was glad that she worked unusual hours and could drop everything to rescue me. While I waited for her, I made a pitiful attempt to continue painting my living room but found myself too distracted to get anything done. An hour after we’d talked, Ade burst into my apartment, her arms full of bags that she dropped to the floor when she saw me frozen on the couch clutching a dripping paint roller, my leftover mascara smeared down my face and paint splatters everywhere.
I looked up at my best friend, stunning as always. Today’s outfit consisted of shiny lavender pants, a sleeveless ivory top, and strappy sandals. By comparison with her usual wild style, the look was tame. Adrianna was seriously beautiful: piles of blonde hair, chocolate brown eyes, perfect skin, knockout body. Most women would hate her, and, in fact, she was not very popular among other females. I’d never been threatened by her good looks or her assertive, even aggressive, nature. One of the few women in her life, I couldn’t have been more grateful for her friendship.
“Chloe! This isn’t worth ruining your wood floors over.” Adrianna eyed me and my apartment and pronounced us both filthy. “Time to get you two fixed up. Listen, I don’t know what to say about last night. We’ll get to that later. We’ll take things in chronological order. So that means the Noah situation first.” She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “It sucks, and it’s embarrassing. He may be hot and sexy and charming, but he’s an insensitive, egomaniacal ass. And you already know all that, and you knew he wasn’t good for you, but he was there and charmed you into bed, and you made the same mistake we all have. So cry it all out today. Then you can tell me what the hell happened last night.” She stood up and carried a huge box of pastries to the kitchen. “I brought over every season of
Alias
on DVD, so we’ll gorge ourselves on Thai food and the pastries I
Alias
on DVD, so we’ll gorge ourselves on Thai food and the pastries I
brought over from Mike’s in the North End. Let’s finish painting and clean this disaster area up,” she called from inside the fridge. “Oh, and I’m staying over tonight.” I smiled to myself. I wasn’t alone.
At 6:30 that evening, Adrianna and I had finished up the living room. She’d patiently tolerated my diatribe on the woes of my involvement with Noah, and she’d repeatedly shaken her head in disbelief as I’d described everything about my evening with Eric, including the meal, his pretensions, and, of course, his murder.
After the painting, we sat on the couch together. “Come on,” Adrianna said, “it’s not like you had any relationship with this guy. I mean, it must have been exceedingly disturbing and revolting to see a bloody body, but you can’t actually be
sad,
right? This date with Eric was only supposed to be a retaliation for Noah’s philandering. It’s not like you gave a shit about him.”
sad,
right? This date with Eric was only supposed to be a retaliation for Noah’s philandering. It’s not like you gave a shit about him.”
Adrianna is always practical, sometimes to the point of seeming coldhearted. Objectively, I suppose, she was right. But I
did
feel sad. “Ade, the thing is, though, you didn’t see Eric’s dead body on the floor. You didn’t see all the blood. It’s not like on TV. It smells, and it’s just awful looking. Somebody died last night, and it doesn’t matter, in a way, who it was. I feel sad about that, and I feel sorry for myself that I had to see what I did. Is that selfish? And maybe I got what I deserved for my stupid attempt at revenge, but as annoying as Eric was, he didn’t deserve what he got. I mean, being annoying and pretentious didn’t mean he should die. Because if it did, Noah should be dead, too.”
did
feel sad. “Ade, the thing is, though, you didn’t see Eric’s dead body on the floor. You didn’t see all the blood. It’s not like on TV. It smells, and it’s just awful looking. Somebody died last night, and it doesn’t matter, in a way, who it was. I feel sad about that, and I feel sorry for myself that I had to see what I did. Is that selfish? And maybe I got what I deserved for my stupid attempt at revenge, but as annoying as Eric was, he didn’t deserve what he got. I mean, being annoying and pretentious didn’t mean he should die. Because if it did, Noah should be dead, too.”
“Not such a rotten idea,” Adrianna responded. “But you’re right. I’m a bitch. Forget I said any of that. You can feel whatever you want to feel. It must have been terrible. I’ve never seen a dead body, so I don’t know what it was like.” She leaned over to give me a hug.
“You know, even though I was there, in a way, I don’t even know what it was like, either. God, Ade, his throat was cut open! And . . . well, what if it was my fault? If I hadn’t gone on that stupid Web site, and we hadn’t made this date, maybe Eric wouldn’t have been at the restaurant and would still be alive and doling out his preposterous culinary observations! And why did everyone think Eric and I were practically on the verge of marriage? How could he have been talking about me when he only found me on the Internet yesterday?”
Adrianna lit some scented candles—she believes in aromatherapy—and, amid the smell of wild strawberries, she tried to reassure me. “Chloe, you don’t know why Eric was killed. If it was random violence, that’s not your fault. Look, we live in a big city, and the reality is that people get murdered, and if it’s some psycho out there, then I’m glad you weren’t hurt. But if this Eric was a target, someone wanted him dead for whatever reason, and you just happened to be there.”
“You’re right. But I still feel terrible. This whole thing is confusing and upsetting, and I wish to God I’d never met Eric!” I fell to pieces for a few minutes while my good friend rubbed my back and fetched me tissues. The image of a lunatic out there randomly killing people in restaurant restrooms didn’t reassure me. In a gruesomely comforting way, I preferred to think that Eric in particular had been the intended victim.
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