Dressed Up 4 Murder, page 11
This isn’t going anywhere. Unless . . .
“You said the products changed. What did you mean?”
“I mean, Spellbound Naturals derives most of its profit from fish.”
“Fish.”
“Yes. Salmon. Cod. Tuna. Ocean whitefish. Who would ever imagine a dog taking a liking to fish, but apparently they do.”
“Fish.”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to process it.” And not jump out of my skin because I might have actually found a link.
“You wouldn’t happen to know the distributor the company uses, would you?”
“Dear me, no. All of that is Bethany’s business. Well, hers and her husband’s. Mr. I’ve-got-a-business-degree-from-Wharton-and-you-don’t. They run it.”
“Oh. I take it her husband might be a bit of a—”
“Snob. And feel free to leave off the n. I shouldn’t be saying such things about my son-in-law, but Tucker Cabot fits the bill. I can’t believe they’re going on their twelfth anniversary. I wouldn’t have lasted with that man for twelve weeks, let alone years.”
For a split second, I wondered if her son-in-law might have wanted his mother-in-law out of the picture. Inheritance and all. Money was one of the three main motives in murder cases, along with love and revenge. But that wouldn’t explain how Cameron Tully wound up under a tarp behind my mother’s house.
“When was the last time you saw Tucker?”
“Probably a few weeks ago, but Bethany stops by here whenever she has clients in the area. I much prefer visiting with her alone.”
“I can understand that. I mean, if Tucker’s such a—”
“Oh, he is. Believe me. He is.”
Enough to want to commit murder? “Um, getting back to your original fear, you never said why you thought someone might be trying to kill you. Is there anything I should know?”
“Maybe. I had words with that miserable Phyllis Gruber from the dog park. She’s the owner of Sir Breckenthall the Third. Some sort of fancy spaniel. That insufferable woman had the gall to tell me Yorkshire Terriers, like my little Prince, were as commonplace as weeds around here. Said I shouldn’t bother entering him in the contest. Was very adamant about that. So I told her where she could stuff it. And I wasn’t the least bit polite about it.”
Sir Breckenthall the Third. It’s a darn good thing he’s a dog and not a child or every kid on the playground would be lining up to fight him. “Mrs. Meschow, I honestly don’t think Phyllis Gruber tried to poison you. It would be a stretch. Even if she is as nasty as all that. Anyway, my office will keep working on the case. In the meantime, I’d suggest you only eat packaged foods or foods from places you trust. And wash your hands a lot.” By God! I’ve become my mother. “Oh, and one more thing . . .”
“Yes?”
“Would Bethany mind if we talked with her? She might be aware of something that you’re not.”
“Bethany? I’m not sure how she can help you, but sure. Hold on and I’ll get you her cell number.”
Prince jumped off the couch and followed his mistress into the kitchen while I took a deep breath and tried to think of anything I’d forgotten to ask. Of course, the million-dollar question was whether or not Coldwater Seafood was the distributor for Spellbound Naturals and if it was, could that have something to do with Cameron’s unfortunate demise?
Patrons of five-star restaurants would be appalled to learn they were sharing the same premium seafood as their pets. If it turned out to be true and Cameron was about to make it public knowledge, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if some restauranteur decided to bump him off. But why on earth would Cameron do a thing like that? Sabotage his own position with the company. None of this was adding up.
“Here’s Bethany’s number.” Mrs. Meschow handed me a floral note card. “I’m sure she’ll want to help. She was quite distraught the day of the incident. Fortunately, she was in the area, in Surprise, when the hospital called her. Usually she meets with her West Valley clientele on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. In fact, I don’t remember her ever coming up this way on a Friday. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. You’ve got her number. Give her a call.”
I thanked Mrs. Meschow, gave Prince a pat on the head, and reassured her once again that Williams Investigations would work diligently to find out who was behind the sago palm poisonings.
“Have your office send me a bill, dear, would you? I’ve learned if you don’t pay for services, nothing gets done.”
“Um, uh, sure. We’ll take care of it.”
I stepped outside and took a moment to enjoy her gorgeous front patio. In full darkness, the LED lights made the place look magical. Two minutes later I was in my car and headed home to my own enchanted kingdom. Takeout food and all.
Chapter 12
“I’m home!” I called out to Marshall once I got in the door. “Dinner smells fantastic. What’d you pick up?”
He stepped out of the kitchen with a big grin. “I got tired of pizza and subs, so I got us a rotisserie chicken and actually made fingerling potatoes. They’re either raw or overdone. You can decide for yourself. Oh, and before I forget, your mother left a phone message while you were meeting with Elaine Meschow.”
“Good grief. It’s like my mother has extrasensory perception or, worse yet, a bug on my phone line. She probably wants to know what I found out.”
Marshall laughed. “It was more of a reminder call than her usual inquisitions.”
I tossed my bag on the small entryway table, kicked off my shoes, and walked to the phone. “Might as well get it over with.”
I’m not sure why, but my mother and my aunt Ina had a tendency to raise their voices when they were leaving recorded messages. “We’re not preparing for a wartime air-raid drill,” I once told them, but it fell on deaf ears. Maybe that was it. Their hearing was slowly diminishing.
I pushed the message button and listened.
“Phee! Marshall! You need to write this down. I’ll wait.” Long pause. “Okay. The Thanksgiving Precious Pooches pet parade is the Friday before Thanksgiving. At the dog park. I think I told you that. Anyway, it’s at three. Three o’clock. Are you writing this down? I wanted you to have plenty of advance notice so you can arrange your schedules. Maybe work through lunch or something. I also left a message for Nate, but he always seems to have business out of town.”
“I can’t believe this.” I wasn’t sure if my voice could be heard over my mother’s. I stopped talking and let the message continue.
“It’s very important to Streetman. Okay, fine. I’ll catch you later. Bye.”
Marshall rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. “I’m sure the dog is counting the days until your mother stuffs him into that glittering acorn. I probably shouldn’t say it, but from what you’ve described, he’s going to look like one of those 1970s disco balls.”
“Go ahead. Laugh. It’s funny.”
We looked at each other, and next thing I knew we were doubled over, tears streaming down both of our faces.
Finally, I took a breath. “All I can say is, Streetman better outshine that Sir Breckenthall or that’s all we’ll be hearing about. Oh my gosh. That reminds me. Elaine Meschow had an issue with that dog’s owner, Phyllis Gruber. In fact, Mrs. Meschow thought Phyllis might have been the one who tried to poison her.”
“Seriously?”
“Uh-huh. Apparently, Phyllis Gruber insulted Elaine Meschow’s dog and Mrs. Meschow didn’t take it lightly. But poisoning? I told her it was really unlikely.”
“Good.”
“There’s something else. It’s a long shot, but it might be a link. Elaine Meschow’s daughter, Bethany Cabot, and her husband, Tucker, run the family company, Spellbound Naturals. It’s right here in Chandler, and they produce health food for dogs. Natural ingredients only. And one of those ingredients happens to be fish. Fish!”
Marshall squinted and motioned for me to continue.
“Like I said. ‘Fish.’ Look, we know Cameron Tully’s company was supplying all those high-end restaurants and supermarket chains with seafood, but what if he was also supplying the dog food manufacturing company? If word got out that La Mar Maravillosa or any of those other fancy places were buying their ‘catch of the day’ from a dog food distributor, it would make headlines and not in the gourmet section of the papers.”
“True. True. But that’s motive for Cameron to silence the would-be snitch. Not the other way around.”
I tapped my teeth for a moment, an annoying habit I hoped Marshall wouldn’t notice. “Unless Cameron had every intention of doing so, but the killer found a way to poison him first. So do you think I might be on to something?”
Marshall took a step toward me and, before I could say another word, planted a sweet but short kiss on my lips. “We’ll find out soon enough. First thing tomorrow I’ll call the Cabots and ask them.”
“Uh, it’s probably inconsequential, but Elaine Meschow isn’t very fond of her son-in-law. Thinks the guy is a bit of a snot. Overbearing, too. He’s one of those who have to make all the decisions.”
“Yikes. Remind me to stay on your mother’s good side. Listen, my dinner’s probably in enough trouble as it is without getting cold. Come on, grab a plate.”
I wasted no time tasting the food.
“I’m hiring you as the full-time chef.” I dabbed a bit of butter from the corner of my mouth. “I’ve had fingerling potatoes before but not with herb butter. It’s definitely a keeper.”
“If you like my potatoes, you’ll adore what I can do with Minute Rice. Or any prepackaged meal, for that matter.”
I gave him a wink and cleared the table.
“Need a hand with the dishwasher?” he asked.
“Nah. Go relax. You’ve done more than your share tonight.”
“I don’t mind. I really enjoy this. It was never fun cooking or eating alone all those years. I’m making up for lost time.”
I had to admit, he was right. After Kalese left for college, preparing food had always seemed like such a burden, and eating out got old fast. But with Marshall and me, things seemed to flow. Maybe because we were so new to the relationship. I’d call it the honeymoon phase, but we weren’t even engaged. I refused to let myself think any further than that for fear I’d send him packing and flying back to Minnesota. Nope, if anything was going to scare him, let it be my mother and the book club ladies.
We migrated to the couch and turned on the TV to find “Breaking News” instead of the usual lineup. The Tempe police were on the scene at La Mar Maravillosa, where someone in a dark hoodie and scream mask held the owner at gunpoint in the kitchen. It was only when one of the dishwashers was able to get to their alarm system and push the panic button that the person in the scream mask exited the place. No one was injured and nothing was taken. According to the news, the suspect was still “at large.”
“That’s Jocelyn Amaro’s restaurant. Cameron’s former girlfriend,” Marshall said. “Looks like your dog food company lead will have to wait. I’ll have Augusta check my schedule tomorrow and see when I can get over to Tempe to have a word with Jocelyn.”
“You think the situation at her restaurant might have something to do with Cameron’s murder?”
“I’m not sure. Remember when I said I thought those restaurant owners might be hiding something? Well, maybe this little event at La Mar Maravillosa isn’t random. No sense waiting for a police report when Jocelyn may feel compelled to talk with me.”
“I hope you’re right. It doesn’t sound as if Nate is having any better luck uncovering anything where Coldwater Seafood and those supermarket chains are concerned.”
“Yeah. Business as usual. According to Nate, none of the supermarket managers had any issues with Cameron. Deliveries were made on time. The product arrived as specified and there are no delinquent accounts.”
“I always like to hear those three words.”
“‘No delinquent accounts’?”
“Uh-huh. Why? What three words were you thinking of?”
“Come on. I’ll show you.”
“What? And miss the TV lineup?”
“You bet.”
* * *
The next morning, Augusta tried as best as she could to rearrange Marshall’s schedule, but she was only able to shave off an hour at the end of the day. Still, an hour was better than nothing, and an hour was all he needed. He was ecstatic Jocelyn agreed to see him. Then he did something totally unexpected. He made a reservation for the two of us. Exact time to be determined, dependent upon the ending time of his meeting with her. I seriously wondered how the reservation staff wrote it in their book.
“Are you sure this is all right?” I asked him.
Augusta had finally straightened out his schedule and Marshall appeared to be relieved.
“If you’re worried about ditching work early, it’s business,” he said. “If you don’t like gourmet seafood, then we’re in trouble.”
“I love seafood. It’s fish I can’t stand. Except maybe for tuna or salmon. Or Friday night fish fry if they do it in beer batter.”
“Hmm. I think you’ll find something on the menu you’ll like. But I have another motive other than wanting to spend as much time as I can with you.”
“What? What motive?”
“Sleuthing. You’re good at it, you know. You do it without even realizing it half the time.”
Oh God no! My mother’s rubbing off on him. “Uh-huh. What exactly is it you want me to do?”
“Find out if Jocelyn was telling me the truth about her breakup with Cameron.”
“And how am I supposed to do that?”
“While Jocelyn and I discuss last night’s break-in, you can unobtrusively chat with the bartender or any other employees. See what they’re willing to cough up. It’s not a pretty business, but people have been known to talk. Especially about their bosses.”
“That’s it? The breakup?”
“Partially. I’m also curious about their take on Jocelyn being held at gunpoint last night. Maybe they’re aware of something they don’t want to share with the police.”
“You think they’ll tell me?”
“You have a way with people, Phee. Honestly, they feel comfortable around you.”
“Let’s hope so.” I looked down at my charcoal slacks, matching blazer, and top. “Um, I wasn’t exactly prepared for a dinner at La Mar Maravillosa. Am I dressed all right for tonight? It’s not as if we’re going to have time to run home and change.”
“You’d look good in a sackcloth, hon. It’s a fancy restaurant, but it’s not Buckingham Palace.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Nate had a follow-up meeting with one of the supermarket chain managers and, from there, surveillance for another case. He, too, had thought I was pretty good at sleuthing and at one time tried to convince me I might make a decent detective. That was before I found myself face down in a dumpster trying to find a clue for my mother. Nope, bookkeeping and accounting were fine with me. It wasn’t as if I craved a high-octane job.
My day was nondescript. The usual paperwork and revelations from Augusta whenever she took a break. At a little before five, Marshall and I left for Tempe. Jocelyn’s late-afternoon/early-evening chef would be on duty at six, the time she agreed to see Marshall.
We took the 101 out of Glendale and crawled along with the rest of the rush-hour traffic. The thirty-five-minute drive had turned into fifty and the street traffic in Tempe slowed us down as well.
“We’ll make it right on time.” Marshall pulled into their parking lot. “Think you’ll be okay?”
“As long as no one holds me at gunpoint, sure.”
La Mar Maravillosa was located a few blocks from Mill Avenue, Arizona State University’s college hub. The restaurant was housed in a spectacular Spanish colonial building that was the focal point of a huge corner lot. A rarity in the Phoenix area. Graceful topiaries lined the colorful tiled path that led to the front entrance.
Once inside, I looked around slowly, trying to take in the expansive lobby. Wrought-iron benches and three strategically placed water features dominated the area. And while bougainvillea and honeysuckle were abundant, no palm trees were visible. And definitely no sago palms.
Off to the left was a separate room with a long bar and more of the same wrought-iron furnishings. This time in the form of barstools and small bistro tables. Again, the bougainvillea. Five or six patrons were at the bar, with a few more people seated at the bistro tables.
Unlike other restaurants, where the host or hostess area consisted of a podium, La Mar Maravillosa’s welcoming station was an elaborately carved oak table framed by two large vases on either side, each filled with fragrant flowers. A thin curly-haired woman, who looked to be my daughter’s age, greeted us.
“I’ll let Miss Amaro know you’re here,” she said to Marshall, and quickly picked up the phone, one of the few items on her table.
“That’s my hint to saunter over to the bar,” I whispered.
As I turned from the table, I froze. Standing directly in front of me were my aunt Ina and uncle Louis. While some people could unobtrusively blend into whatever venue they happened to occupy, my aunt and uncle could not.
Louis Melinsky, all five foot two of him, was wearing a dark suit with a burgundy tie. That, in combination with his pinstriped shirt, made him look like an old-time gangster. Aunt Ina, however, was no gun moll. She was dressed in a long teal sheath that clung to her hips, making them appear twice their usual size. A wild paisley wrap hung dubiously over one shoulder, but it was her hairdo that really caught my eye. Mine and, I imagined, everyone’s in a ten-mile radius.
Usually my aunt wore her long braids with tinsel or ribbon encased in them, but tonight, for some reason, she decided to have her hair swept above her head in a French knot that resembled Mont-Saint-Michel.
“Phee! What are you doing here? Don’t tell me Harriet’s with you. I can’t imagine my sister ever leaving that compound in Sun City West.”
