There's Something About Marty (A Working Stiffs Mystery Book 3) (9 page)

“Sorry.”

“Now let me ask you a question,” he said, whisking milk in with the eggs.

“Okay.” The flutter in my chest told me to expect that his question wouldn’t have anything to do with work.

“Was that the only reason you called me this morning?”

It was a fair question, but there was no way I could give him a completely honest answer without hurting his feelings.

“I was concerned that there might be a connection between why Jordan Makepeace was rushed to the hospital last night and the death of Marty McCutcheon, and I wanted to see what you thought. To see if this seemed like too much of a coincidence.” I left the rest unsaid. He was a smart guy. He could read between the lines.

He nodded. “I’m not a big one for coincidences.”

“Me either.”

“But they happen. You and me, for example. There we were at Eddie’s, in the same boat after dressing for an evening out.”

“Yeah.” Point taken.

“So, the guy who cancelled on you. Is it serious?”

“Maybe.” I felt like Steve and I needed more time to figure that out. “I guess I’m not sure yet, but I can tell you that he’s important to me.”

At the nod of his head I could see he’d gotten the message. “What about you and your date last night?”

He pressed his lips together, deliberating on his answer for a split-second too long. “Just someone I’d gone out with a couple of times.”

I seriously doubted that. “Just a couple?”

His mouth stretched into a lopsided smile. “Maybe four. Does that disqualify me from having brunch with you?”

“Nope, especially when I’m hungry.”

“Good answer.”

While he busied himself in the galley, I studied the paper in my hands and thought about the one thing that Jordan Makepeace and Marty McCutcheon appeared to have in common: Phyllis Bozeman. Coincidence? Maybe. There was only one person in town who could solve that mystery for me—the lady herself.

∗ ∗ ∗

“I need a cake,” I said to Lucille, one of the two Duke’s waitresses working the afternoon shift.

She and I both knew my request was a formality because
the Duke
, Darrell Duquette, was watching us from the cut-out window over the grill to make sure that I didn’t treat his bakery profit center like an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Stepping behind the illuminated glass case in her squeaky orthopedic shoes, Lucille pointed at a German chocolate cake missing two slices. “We got this one.”

“A whole cake.” I leaned closer to check out a platter of cupcakes that might work in a pinch.

Lucille looked at me through the glass, the points of her platinum bob curling into her cheeks. “Where’s the party?”

“No party. I just need a cake. Something cheerful looking.” I figured the family of a poisoning victim could use all the cheering up they could get.

“We got German chocolate and carrot. If that isn’t enough cheer for ya, you need to get your ass back here and bake it yourself.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time since I graduated from culinary school that I’d availed myself of Duke’s kitchen. I’d baked most of the family birthday cakes, even my own wedding cake. But I needed something readily packable into a bakery box if I wanted to catch a grandma at the hospital during visiting hours.

“Lucille, could I get a refill when you have a minute?” called Stanley, one of Duke’s more senior regulars from his usual perch at the yellow Formica counter.

She pursed her lips. “The natives are getting restless.”

“Go get him his decaf. I’ll deal with Duke,” I whispered, stepping behind the bakery case like I had countless times over the years while helping stock its shelves.

I pulled out the platter of cupcakes and did a quick count. Ten. Good enough. All I needed to do was dress them up a little, and they would do nicely.

Pushing open the kitchen door with my shoulder, I smiled at my great-uncle. “Howdy! Looks like a pretty good crowd today considering that it’s after tourist season.”

The curmudgeon wearing the grease-stained white apron glowered at me. “And they might want to take home some cupcakes, so where do you think you’re going with those?”

“I’m buying them,” I said on my way back to my great-aunt Alice’s butcher block worktable.

“You know that’s supposed to mean that you
pay
for ’em.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of taking it out in trade.”

He brightened. “Yeah? A dozen cupcakes to replace those? Okay, you’ve got a deal—as long as you throw in a chocolate layer cake. We sold the last piece an hour ago.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, pulling the cake decorating tray from the storage shelf next to a cooling rack. “Since when is that fair?”

“Since you owe me for the cheeseburger I made you for lunch yesterday, and the apple fritter I saw you sneak on Monday.”

“I swear you’ve got eyes in the back of your head, old man.”

He chuckled low in his throat as he flipped the burger sizzling on the grill. “And don’t you ever forget it, baby girl.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Like he’d let me.

At the worktable I sorted through a box of cake toppers and found three little rainbows, a couple of plastic palm trees, and assorted fondant zoo animals that I could use. “Perfect.”

After I placed the cupcakes in a pink bakery box and arranged them like they were having a fun day at the zoo, I fastened the box with a Duke’s Cafe sticker and headed for the kitchen door.

Duke pointed at me with his spatula. “You’d better come right back and get to bakin’. I’ve got an apron here with your name on it.”

Unfortunately he wasn’t kidding. He’d used that threat on me so many times when I was a teenager, he’d had one embroidered for me.

“I’ll be back. First, I need to make a special delivery to the hospital.”

After a quick stop in the hospital gift shop to buy an overpriced balloon, I headed up to the second floor where Jordan Makepeace had been moved after spending the night in Intensive Care.

Standing at the door, I hesitated to intrude on the four generations gathered around the honey-haired little boy’s bed. Yes, Phyllis Bozeman was standing at the foot of his bed with her youngest grandchild in her arms, but so was Estelle and I didn’t need this courtesy call getting back to my grandmother, especially since it had the potential to go very badly.

“Balloon!” Jordan squealed, pointing at the polka-dotted
Get Well
balloon in my hand.

All eyes turned to me.

I painted a happy smile on my face as I stepped into the room. “Hi, everybody! How’s the patient?”

“Better, thank you,” his father said with a glance at a frowning Aubrey, as if she could explain why I was visiting their son.

Estelle waved me over to stand next to her. “Oh, boy! I think someone special is getting a balloon!”

As I approached, Phyllis clutched her baby grandson to her bosom like I was going to fly away with him on the broomstick that I’d left in the hallway.

Just keep smiling and think of a way to get Phyllis alone.

“Charmaine?” Aubrey’s puffy eyes narrowed as they scanned me from head to toe. “What are you doing here?”

Since I had insinuated myself into the tail end of what had to have been an all-night vigil, I hadn’t expected Aubrey to be pleased to see me, especially after twenty-three years of avoiding one another.

“Duke heard about what happened and asked me to bring this brave young man a little get well gift.” After handing his father the balloon, I opened up the bakery box and showed Jordan my cupcake zoo.

His eyes widened. “Cupcakes!”

“How cute!” Estelle said. “Which one do you want to try first, Jordy? A monkey or an elephant?”

He reached for the box. “Monkey!”

Aubrey placed her hand on her son’s arm. “Granny, don’t encourage him. He can’t—”

“These will keep in the refrigerator, so when he’s ready…” I winked at Jordan. “…that monkey cupcake will still be yummy.”

“Hello, hello,” a fortyish doctor said as he came alongside Jordan’s bed. He smiled apologetically at the two grannies and me. “I hate to break up the party, but we’re going to need everyone but Mom and Dad to leave the room for a few minutes.”

Aubrey exchanged glances with her mother. “Maybe you should take Joey home. It’s past his naptime. Then I’ll call so you know what to expect later.”

Phyllis nodded and gathered her purse. “Okay, bye, sweetheart.”

Jordan waved goodbye to his grandmother and then looked expectantly at me.

Smart kid. He knew this was my cue as well as I did. “You feel better, Jordan. Enjoy that monkey!”

After setting the bakery box on a table by the door, I followed Phyllis into the disinfectant-scented hallway. “Before you go, I wonder if I could ask you something.”

She shifted the baby in her arms. “I need to get him home. Estelle, too,” Phyllis said, turning to look behind us. “Estelle, are you ready to go?”

The older woman sighed. “I just need to find a bathroom. Such a nuisance this bladder of mine.”

Once Estelle was out of earshot, I pointed at the bench by the elevator. “As long as you have a couple of moments, let’s have a seat.”

“I can’t imagine that we have anything else to talk about if this is about Marty,” she said, seating little Joey on her lap.

“I just need you to help me understand something.”

“Well, I’ll try.”

I knew we had only a few minutes, so I got right to the point. “I don’t know if you realize this, but Marty became violently ill a couple of hours before he died.”

She nodded, her eyes downcast as she stroked the fine hair on her grandson’s head. “Cameron mentioned that yesterday.”

“We are trying to determine if something he ingested led to his heart failure.” Okay,
we
was bending the truth into a boomerang that might whack me in the head later, but I needed this to sound official.

Phyllis knit her brows, her dark eyes searching mine. “Something he ingested? He seemed fine at work, so do you mean something he ate at his birthday dinner?”

“It seems like a possibility.”

“Why are you asking me? I wasn’t there.”

“But you gave him something he ate that no one else appears to have touched Thursday night.”

“The salsa?”

I nodded.

“It was the same salsa I always give him.”

“Was anything added to it?” I asked, watching her closely for a reaction.

Her nostrils flared, her eyes scarcely more than slits as she stared me down. “Certainly not by me.”

Joey started crying as if his grandmother were scaring him.

I know, kid. She can be a little intense.
Kind of like my ex-mother-in-law when she was angry. But Phyllis Bozeman was also telling the truth.

I flashed her my best conciliatory smile as she rocked Joey in her arms. “I apologize, but I must ask, do you have any reason to think that something might have been added to it?”

“I didn’t until now!”

True again. If there had been something poisonous added to the salsa, she didn’t know anything about it.

Phyllis labored to stand with Joey in her arms as Estelle walked up behind me.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Estelle said, pressing the button for the elevator.

Pushing out of my seat I knew this little interview would be over the second the elevator door opened. “You know, it’s just remarkable how well Jordan is doing.”

Estelle placed her hand on Phyllis’s shoulder. “And this one gets all the credit for that. If it wasn’t for her quick thinking, I shudder to think what could have happened to that sweet little boy.”

When the elevator door opened, we stepped inside and I pressed the button for the ground floor. “Yes, thank goodness you knew that plant was poisonous, Mrs. Bozeman.”

Phyllis sniffed, staring at the elevator door. “I didn’t. But I’d never heard of anyone using crocuses in salads or soups, so I just assumed.”

Oh.

“Good assumption.” On her part, not mine because without the Phyllis Bozeman link between her former boyfriend’s death and her grandson’s poisoning, I couldn’t help but wonder if Kyle was right. Maybe Marty’s untimely death could have been avoided if he’d cut back on the cheeseburgers.

After leaving the elevator we headed for the exit while Joey screamed, heading for a baby meltdown.

“Somebody’s really tired,” Phyllis said, picking up her pace.

Seemingly content to lag behind, Estelle tapped my arm. “Are you going home from here?”

“Back to Duke’s actually.” To make good on a debt.

“Could you give me a ride?” She pointed at the crying baby. “Plus, since Phyllis is headed over to Clatska, I’m out of her way.”

“No problem. In fact, I have some yarn for you from Darlene.”

“You do?”

“I was over there yesterday, and she asked me to deliver it since I’d be coming back this way. I meant to stop by on my way home from work, but…”

“That’s strange,” Estelle said as we followed Phyllis out into the afternoon sunshine.

I didn’t think anything I’d just said sounded all that strange. “What?”

“I saw Darlene’s car parked across the street from my house shortly before I got the call about Jordan. I wonder why she didn’t just deliver the yarn then and save you the trouble.”

“Me, too.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“I’m on the right here,” Estelle said when I turned on E Street, pointing at the house with the oatmeal aluminum siding as if I’d never seen her little rambler before.

Slowing, I looked at the basil green craftsman style house with the cream trim across the way. “That’s new.” It had been a few years since I’d spent any time in Estelle’s neighborhood, but I remembered the house being a lighter color.

She leaned over, looking past me. “Turned out nice, didn’t it? Bob’s been working on the place ever since he moved in last year.”

“Bob?”

“Bob Hallahan.”

I pulled into Estelle’s driveway and turned to face her. “When you said you saw Darlene’s car across the street, did you mean that it was in front of Bob’s house?”

“Yep, and right opposite my driveway. I almost hit it when I was backing out to go to the hospital.” Estelle rolled her eyes. “She still blames me for taking down that old ramshackle fence of hers. I never would have heard the end of it if I’d hit her car.”

Since Darlene had given me the distinct impression that she wouldn’t be making a trip into town yesterday, I couldn’t help but be curious about why she visited her ex-husband’s best friend. Perhaps she knew about something in Marty’s will that concerned Bob. Something that Marty had wanted Bob to have?

But wouldn’t that something have remained with Marty at his house, not his ex-wife’s?

“Hopefully, the next time she visits she won’t park in your way,” I said.

“Yes, she should follow the lead of the lady friend Bob’s been seeing and park closer to his mailbox.”

I hadn’t realized that Bob had a
lady friend
. Maybe this was a mutual friend he shared with Darlene and that was what had prompted her visit last night. “Who’s he seeing these days?”

“I only caught a glimpse of her last Tuesday evening when I was taking out the garbage. Seemed quite lovely. Chinese, I think.”

“Black shoulder-length hair?”

She nodded. “Looked a little young for him if you ask me, but what do I know about these things anymore?”

Since her description fit Victoria McCutcheon, I wondered the same thing.

“Besides, as long as his visitors don’t park in my way, who he spends his time with is none of my business.” Estelle gathered up her yarn and her purse. “Well, thanks for the ride. For the cupcakes for Jordan, too.”

“Those were from Duke.”

“Right.” She grinned. “That bugger has never given away free food in his life.”

Duke had given it to me on sort of a need-to-know basis.

She opened the car door. “You’re a nice girl, Charmaine. I’m going to tell your granny so the next time I see her.”

I wasn’t so nice. I’d used the near-death of a little kid to squeeze information out of his grandmother.

Since Estelle was struggling to get out of the bucket seat, I came around to the passenger side and offered her my hand.

She locked palms with me. “Yep, a nice girl.”

Who was feeling guiltier by the second.

“Now, what you need to do,” Estelle said as I pulled her to her feet, “is find a nice boy.” She winked at me. “Get back on the horse and all that good stuff.”

“Yes, ma’am.” And I knew exactly which horse I wanted to ride later. Yep, there would be no pillow talk about poison tonight.

After Estelle’s door closed behind her I looked at the house across the street, where both Mrs. McCutcheons appeared to have made recent visits.

Strange. Especially since one of them had deceived me about her intention to come into town.

If the subject just happened to come up later, maybe my
nice boy
wouldn’t mind offering an opinion about it over a beer.

“He’s not
that
nice,” I reminded myself. Better make it a home-cooked meal with a big slice of chocolate cake for dessert.

∗ ∗ ∗

“About damn time,” my great-uncle grumbled when I grabbed my apron off a hook in the kitchen. “Did you do rounds while you were at the hospital?”

“No. I was just visiting a friend.” Duke wasn’t the inquisitive one I needed to worry about in the cafe, so I slipped my apron on knowing that I’d said enough to satisfy his curiosity.

Unfortunately, the same wasn’t true for Lucille, Gossip Central’s ringleader, who was pushing through the kitchen door. “Would that friend’s name be Dr. Cardinale?”

Shit!
Someone had blabbed—someone who had seen me with Kyle.

I stared at her, my mind racing for a way to contain the damage without full disclosure. Phyllis Bozeman didn’t need the rest of Port Merritt to know that I had thought she could have poisoned her former boyfriend, and neither did I.

“Of course not. Why would I take cupcakes decorated with monkeys and elephants to a doctor?” I headed for the worktable to get this conversation away from the ears of the waitress who was picking up her order at the window.

“Hell, I don’t know,” Lucille said, hot on my heels. “Maybe the dude’s into monkeys.”

I cocked my head at her as I pulled a large stainless steel bowl out from under the worktable. “Please. Whoever you’ve been talking to has it all wrong.”

“Funny you should say that because that’s exactly what I told Millie when she came here for her lunch break and wanted to know how long the two of you had been going out.”