Dressed Up 4 Murder, page 20
“Whoa! I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t looking down.”
As I stood up, my jaw all but dropped. I recognized him. “It’s okay. My purse slipped from my hand on the way to the restroom.”
He pointed across the lobby. “It’s over there. Everyone makes that mistake. They really need to put up bigger signs.”
“Um, yeah. Bigger signs.”
Forcing a smile, I nodded and charged straight ahead to the restroom. My heart was literally palpitating and I couldn’t wait to tell Marshall who Jocelyn’s brother was.
“Long line in there?” he asked as soon as I got back.
“No. But I might’ve done some of my best sleuthing across the hall.”
He gave me a quizzical look, and I went on to explain. When I was all finished, he clasped his hands together and leaned across the table. “The delivery guy, huh? From that health food company? The one with the flash-frozen fish products? Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Light hair, young, and medium build, wearing a shirt with that The Bountiful Life logo on the front. Not a single doubt in my mind.”
“You know, this is getting more than coincidental. That company keeps cropping up like a bad penny. Even though they’re in the seafood business, their product doesn’t even come close to the gourmet stuff Coldwater Seafood handles. Still, I’m going to run some background checks when I get back to the office tomorrow.”
“What do you think the guy’s sideline is? Jocelyn sounded just a wee bit alarmed.”
“Heck. It could be anything. Gambling. Uber driving. Pet sitting . . .”
“Yeah, I suppose his sister was ticked because he was wasting his life. Well, according to her, anyway. And speaking of ticked, boy, did he hit a nerve with that accusation about falsifying the seafood products.”
“Guess I’ll have to approach that matter gingerly and diplomatically. If she went off the handle with her own brother, who knows how she’ll respond to a private investigator a second time. Ugh. One saving grace about this evening, the food’s bound to be decent.”
Marshall was right about that. The Chilean sea bass was exquisite, just as my aunt Ina said it would be. And Marshall savored every bit of his pesto shrimp.
“Well, it’s show time.” He handed Bernard a Visa card and gave me a wink. “I’ll try to keep the conversation with Jocelyn short and sweet this time.”
“No worries. I’ll linger at the bar. Who knows what else I might overhear tonight.”
Chapter 21
As stray conversations went, I didn’t hear much of anything at the bar. The patrons were quiet and Paige was nowhere in sight. Probably on a break. At least she clarified one thing—Cameron wasn’t the one making unauthorized seafood exchanges. In my mind, that meant it couldn’t have been one of the restaurant owners who murdered him, but Marshall busted that bubble right away on the way home.
“Suppose Cameron confronted one or more of those owners and told them he had enough evidence to prove they were fleecing their customers?” he asked. “It would be enough ammo to put a place out of business and a darn good reason for one of them to knock him off.”
“But why would he do such a thing? He’d be cutting his own throat.” Or in this case, choking on his own poison.
“There are still some boy scouts left in this world, hon. Maybe our victim was one of them.”
“What did Jocelyn say when you asked her about it? Did she hit the roof like she did with her brother?”
“No, not at all. Of course, I kept it very businesslike and spoke in generalities. I figured I’d get the information I needed layer by layer. Believe it or not, she was more than familiar with fraud in her industry. Said the sushi places were the worst, but that was small potatoes. Then she went on to explain how some fish can easily be substituted for others, especially if a master chef was the one preparing the meal.”
“Wouldn’t it be easy to recognize things like cheap artificial crabmeat instead of the real stuff?”
“In that case, yes. But we’re talking fillets. With seasonings, crusts, and sauces, it would be virtually impossible to detect a difference. Unless, of course, your name happens to be Louis Melinsky. The average Joe wouldn’t know a cheap tilapia from a red snapper or escolar from tuna. Those were only a few she mentioned. She gave me an entire list.”
“Hmm. Doesn’t sound as if her restaurant is engaging in nefarious practices, does it? What about the other issue? The one that doesn’t involve fish.”
“Tucker?”
“Uh-huh. Was she seeing him? Sleeping with him? Maybe Bethany didn’t have to ask Tucker because she already knew. Like the lipstick on the collar thing. Although that’s a really ancient cliché, isn’t it?”
“Turns out Jocelyn did have a thing going with Tucker.”
“Oh no!”
“Huh? Why are you so upset about this?”
“Think about it. Every time there’s a murder, the first thing my mother does is tell me it’s got to be some sort of affair gone bad. She practically drills it into my head. Forget every other conceivable reason in the world why someone would commit murder. Oh no. It’s all about tempestuous love affairs and raging jealousy as far as Harriet Plunkett is concerned. We’ll never hear the end of this if it turns out the motive for Cameron’s death was jealousy on the part of Tucker.”
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“I’ve got another scenario, too. What if Bethany found out and meant to murder Jocelyn with that sago palm toxin? Along comes Cameron and he ingests it instead. Oh my gosh. It gets better! Bethany might’ve inadvertently served her own mother some of that poison but not enough to kill her.”
“I’ll give you the motive part of the equation. And the means is easy enough. Those palms are everywhere. However, you forgot one thing—opportunity.”
“As in timeline?”
“Uh-huh. Jocelyn told me it was only innocent flirtation when she first met Tucker. That’s when he was working for Coldwater Seafood. Things changed and their relationship heated up.”
“As in full-blown affair?” I asked.
“Yep. A full-blown affair that reached its apex and fizzled out. Then Jocelyn started seeing Cameron.”
“And?”
“Oh, it gets better. Tucker came back into the picture to warn her about Cameron’s womanizing and then—”
“Don’t tell me! She was seeing both of them?” This is better than the stuff the book club ladies dish out.
“She wasn’t proud of it.”
“Yikes. I can’t believe she told you all of this.”
“Jocelyn’s no dummy. She’s aware that her relationship with both men put her in a questionable position as far as Cameron’s murder goes. She said she wanted to be up-front and honest with me because the sooner we track down the guy’s killer, the sooner she’ll be off the hook. Said she hasn’t slept nights for fear someone will show up at her door with a warrant for her arrest. Apparently, she’s a big fan of Telemundo, along with your mother.”
“My gosh. That’s a whole lot to digest in one night.”
“First thing tomorrow I intend to scrutinize the timelines again. See if Nate and I overlooked anything regarding Cameron’s whereabouts leading up to the minute Streetman sniffed that tarp.”
“And Elaine Meschow’s whereabouts, too?”
“I’m afraid so. Looks like tomorrow’s going to be a long day. So much for the expression ‘Fun Friday.’”
* * *
Marshall wasn’t kidding when he said “long day.” Only he meant me. It was Friday morning and I had just completed the monthly billing at a little before noon when Nate rapped on my doorframe.
“Hey, kiddo. How’s it going? Got a favor to ask.”
“I, uh . . .”
“Any minute now you’ll be getting an email from Deputy Ranston. Or Bowman. Or someone from their office. Doesn’t matter. The attachments do. They’re Excel spreadsheets from Coldwater Seafood listing the last six months of purchases from the four gourmet seafood houses.”
“I know where this is going. You want me to do a type and quantity comparison between what the restaurants ordered from their distributor and what they actually listed on their menus, right?”
Nate nodded. “Augusta did a little handiwork for us, too. She pulled up all of the menus going back six months.”
I grimaced. “Remind me to thank her.”
“Well, I’d better get going. If it’s any consolation, lunch is on me. I told Augusta the same thing. Order out. Knock yourself out. I’ll catch up later. Marshall’s downtown at Coldwater Seafood, and I’m about to pay Elaine Meschow a visit.”
“Um, sure. See you later.”
Ten minutes later Augusta came into my office and plopped a stack of restaurant menus on my desk. “I printed these out for you, Phee. I also called those restaurants to see if their menus changed in the last six months. With the exception of special holiday meals, all of them have kept the same menus. Have fun. And while we’re on the topic of food, our choices are on the value-priced side. Well, what’ll it be? Deli? Pizza? Tacos? All three?”
“Chocolate. I don’t care if I have to take it intravenously.”
“Okay. Tacos. I’m in the mood for tacos. I’ll see if they sell any chocolate churros.”
She darted out of my office the very second I received Ranston’s email. Guess he was the lucky one who had to deal with Coldwater Seafood. I emailed him back and thanked him.
Marshall had made me a copy of the notes he took last night when Jocelyn told him which fish were commonly swapped. I unfolded the letter-size paper and flattened it on my desk before turning my attention to the seafood menus. I wanted to get a general sense of the types of fish these restaurants were featuring. Then I pulled up the first of Ranston’s spreadsheets and searched for those fish orders for the distributor.
With the exception of tilapia, none of the names I expected, like tuna or red snapper, appeared. Instead, I was looking at words such as “escolar,” “pollock,” “yellowtail,” and “dory.” I went back three months and it was the same. Then five months. A few orders for tuna, red snapper, cod, and orange roughy were listed. The month before that was similar with the addition of mahi-mahi.
The aroma of Tabasco sauce and fried peppers wafted into my office. Augusta was back from the Mexican restaurant around the corner. “No chocolate churros, but I bought you a Hershey’s bar.”
I devoured my all-beef supreme taco with extra cheese and washed it down with a Coke. Then I was back to the spreadsheet comparisons. It was grueling. I heard Augusta fielding phone calls in the front office and knew her day wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, either.
By quarter to four I had managed to analyze the information from the two Phoenix restaurants, Neptune’s Delicacies and Aphrodite’s Appetite. No wonder my uncle Louis said they were spiraling downward. More like trawling for garbage fish. I shoved my chair back from my desk and stretched. I needed coffee and lots of it. The caffeine in my Coke only went so far.
“I can’t believe it.” I closed the lid on the K-cup and pushed the flashing blue button. “Two of those restaurants have engaged in downright fraud. Wouldn’t the food inspectors have caught it?”
Augusta looked up from her desk. “Nope. They don’t care what the food is, as long as it’s cooked right. Now if those restaurants had lied about refrigerator temperatures or falsified expiration dates on stuff . . . well, that would be a different matter. I watch the ‘Filthy Dining’ segment on KPHO all the time. You’d be amazed at what goes on in those kitchens. Rodent droppings, roaches, employees who don’t wash their hands . . .”
“Ugh. I think Cameron was on to them and that’s what got him killed. Now there’s real evidence. Then again, Nate, Marshall, and those sheriff deputies have talked with everyone in those establishments and couldn’t verify anything as far as timeline was concerned. You can’t kill someone if you don’t come in contact with them.”
“Don’t tell that to anyone who believes in the paranormal.”
“You’re not saying—”
“Of course not. That stuff is a bunch of poppycock, but it doesn’t mean those restaurants should get off scot-free. Once those deputies get your analysis, I’ll wager they issue warrants for consumer fraud.”
“I’ve got one more place to check out—Taste of the Sea in Scottsdale. Did Nate or Marshall say when they’d be back?”
“No. But I’m figuring it’ll be within the hour.”
“I feel as if I’m on some sort of archeological dig and I don’t want to stop. Looks like I’ll be working overtime tonight.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Nah. I’ve got it.”
I went back to my desk and pulled up Taste of the Sea. I scanned their ordering sheets from Coldwater Seafood, expecting to find yellowtail, dory, pollock, and escolar on the list, but instead, I saw the names of quality fish—tuna, cod, snapper, and mahi-mahi. All in very small quantities. I did, however, notice an abundance of orders for tilapia. I was certain they were cheating their customers, too, but doing it gradually so they stayed under the radar.
The phone rang and Augusta shouted for me. “Phee, your mother’s on the line!”
Terrific. Now what?
“I hate to bother you at work, Phee”—since when—“but you’ll never guess what Streetman pulled out from under the bed in the guest room.”
“Mom! I’m mired under with work. Can’t we talk about this later?”
“No. It might be yours.”
“My what?”
“That’s what I’m getting at. Streetman has a habit of hiding things way under the beds. Last week it was that imitation pearl necklace of mine that I always wear.”
My eyes were rolling around so many times I was getting dizzy. “I give up. What did he find?”
“I’m not exactly sure what you call them, but it’s a small metal thing on a broken lanyard. Someone’s always using them on TV when they have to get information out of a computer in a hurry.”
“A flash drive?”
“I’ve got it in my hand. It says ‘SanDisk.’”
“That’s a flash drive or thumb drive and it’s not mine. I doubt it’s Marshall’s. He doesn’t carry one around on a lanyard. Maybe Herb or one of the book club ladies left it at your house. You had lots of people in there when we first found Cameron’s body and then again on Thanksgiving. Did you call them?”
“Yes. I even called Janet Galbraith because she was here before Halloween—Oh heavens! I forgot to call Herb. I’ll call you right back. Bye.”
I went back to the spreadsheets and studied Taste of the Sea’s information again. When I heard the phone ring a few minutes later, I shouted to Augusta, “It’s probably my mother!”
“That was a quick call to Herb,” I said to my mother. “Any luck?”
“No. He told me whatever I do I shouldn’t put that thing in my computer or I’ll wind up with a virus or worse.”
“Yeah. He’s right. That’s kind of a dangerous practice without running a security scan first.”
“I’m not doing anything of the sort. I don’t know what this is or where the dog could’ve gotten it. I would’ve noticed it if he found it in the dog park. The lanyard’s a reddish leather and pretty long. Are you sure it’s not Marshall’s?”
“Trust me. It’s not.”
“What about Nate?”
I laughed. “A flash drive would be the last thing he’d be carrying around. He’s so old school. Are you sure no one else has been inside your house?”
“No one. I had the furnace checked a few weeks ago, but the guy stayed in the garage. If he was the one who dropped it, I would’ve noticed Streetman bringing it inside.”
My eyes were glued to the spreadsheet in front of me, but my mind was doing backflips. All the way back to the day when the dog uncovered Cameron’s body beneath the tarp.
“Do me a favor,” I said. “Put that thing in a drawer and don’t give it to anyone.”
“Who am I going to give it to?”
“Aargh. Sorry. Only a matter of speaking. I’ll come over tomorrow and get it. I know how to scan it for viruses and malware. Maybe once I open the files we’ll know where it came from.”
“Come early in the morning. I’m going to the mall with Shirley and Lucinda in the afternoon. The stores are having their holiday sales, and I need to find an outfit that will blend nicely with Streetman’s Nutcracker costume.”
Dear God. Is there anything in her life that doesn’t involve that dog? “Okay. Fine. Um, how long do you think that flash drive’s been under the bed?”
“Gee, that’s hard to say. The dog finds things and hides them. Then he moves them to other hiding places. Under the couch, under my bed . . . Once I found one of those promotional key chains from an insurance company right behind the toilet in the guest bathroom. Of all places. Why?”
“I’m not sure. I was only thinking out loud. Look, I really have to go. I’ve got tons of work.”
“Fine. See you in the morning.”
I hung up the phone, but my hand still remained on top of the receiver. It was as if I couldn’t let go of a thought I had. My mother was pretty darn observant when it came to that dog of hers. She’d certainly notice if he picked up something outside and brought it into the house. Especially if they were coming back from a walk or from the dog park. My mother would have to be awfully distracted to not see a red leather lanyard in Streetman’s mouth. Unless. . . unless . . . Oh my God! I think I know where he found it and when.
I charged out of my office and over to Augusta’s desk, spouting and waving my arms. “I think my mother’s dog might’ve found a flash drive that belonged to the murderer!”
She pushed herself away from the computer screen. “Huh? What?”
“Right before Halloween. My mother and I were so distraught when we found the body, we weren’t paying attention to the dog.”
I went on to explain how the dog might’ve found the lanyard with the drive on it and how he easily could’ve raced into the house with it and darted under a bed. His favorite pastime.
