Board Stiff (An Elliott Lisbon Mystery) (20 page)

EIGHTEEN

Sunday started with a mission. I treated myself to the Pancake House in Summerton as a reward for my good idea. Yes, before I had the chance to see if the idea panned out. If I waited and it didn’t, I wouldn’t be entitled to a reward, would I? After devouring a plate-sized Big Apple pancake topped with crunchy sugar, I paid the bill and hit the road.

I headed for Pine Lake, a residential community near I-95 and the local USC campus. I turned off the highway and wound through a dense forest of scrub pine to the entrance. Pine Lake had a lovely guard shack done up Queen Anne style with a cupola on top, but no one to man it. I sailed through the open drive without having to charm my way into a day pass.

This particular development followed the less-is-more philosophy. As in less land, more neighbors. Short streets ran off the main drag, each crammed with tall Victorian houses pushed right to the curb. Tiny alleys threaded through the backyards so residents could hide their cars and their trash cans.

I found 327 Maple Lane easy enough and parked at the curb. I walked up the path to the side gate first and peeked over the fence. A dog barked wildly when my head popped into his view. A slobbery, smelly bulldog.

Beyond the fat yapper, parked under the carport, was a red VW bug. I smiled. I loved being right. Totally justified my victory breakfast, too. The adrenaline rush made me bold.

I scooted to the front door and rang the bell.

No answer.

I rang again, then knocked. “Come out, come out,” I hollered. “I know you’re in there.” At least I hope you’re in there, I thought. I’ll be really embarrassed if I’m wrong and I’m pounding on the door like a showoff.

The door opened and Cherry stood with her hand on her hip.

“Hi, Cherry!” I said cheerily. “Mind if I come in?”

“You’re awfully snappy this morning.”

“I’m trying a new tactic. Plus, I discovered some juicy tidbits about Leo and his girlfriend. You’ll want to hear this.”

She eyed me warily, then opened the door wider, her guard sufficiently up.  “Sure, I guess.”

I followed her through the living room, past the dining room and a tidy alcove kitchen. Her decorating style was eighties music video. I think she held onto an unhealthy fascination with Devo’s funky red hats a little longer than she should have, considering she wasn’t even old enough to have lived it firsthand. Everything was totally new wave, in red, black, and white. Red leather sofa, black and white checked rug, red lamp shades, big plastic red lips on the wall. She even had red appliances: a shiny red KitchenAid mixer (the fancy one with all the attachments), red toaster, red blender. Actually, she had a lot of appliances. A bread maker, a juicer, a food processor, an espresso machine.

“Before you get any ideas I stole all those things you’re gawking at, I paid for them. I get an employee discount. It’s a perk.”

She led me to a small screened porch at the back of the house. The dog continued to bark, protecting his dish of Gaines-Burgers as if I was the Hamburglar complete with a black mask, cape, and two sacks of stolen drive-thru all beef patties.

“So that’s Donald,” I said and sat on a metal lawn chair. A red one, naturally. “But she’s a girl, right?”

“How’d you know?” Cherry lit a cigarette from an open pack next to her chair. She inhaled that sucker so long, I thought smoke might seep from her ears.

“Owen, Leo’s neighbor. He said she left pee spots on the grass. Only female dogs do that.”

“Huh, I didn’t know,” Cherry said between puffs.

“Why name her Donald?”

She smiled. “Leo’s joke to drive Bebe crazy. He hated her cat.”

It took me a minute, then I got it. “Oh, Ivana. Cute.” I leaned back, trying to look casual. Hard to do in a chair as comfortable as a bus bench. “So, there is no Dee, right?”

She flicked ash into an overflowing ceramic ashtray with shaky hands. “Why do you say that?”

“Something I heard about Leo and a tiny red horseshoe. I remembered it from your desk the first time we met. Made me wonder why Leo would carry it as his lucky charm. Then I thought about the red car, your name’s Cherry, and everything you own is red. Except for the dog.”

“Listen, just because I have the dog, doesn’t mean I killed Leo.”

“But you were having an affair and you were at his house the night of the murder. I have to say, Cherry, it doesn’t look too good.”

“It doesn’t mean I did it.”

“It certainly doesn’t clear you.”

She took another long drag, then blew out a thick stream of acrid smoke. “What makes you think I was even there?”

“Because a neighbor saw your car in the driveway. And because you have his dog.”

“
My
dog. Donald is my dog. Aren’t you, girl?” At the sound of her name, Donald wagged her tail and Cherry opened the screen door to let her in. “Leo bought her as a gift, but my landlord freaked out. So Leo kept her for me, told Bebe she was a stray.”

“What else did Leo do for you? Give you piles of money? Another part of the perk package?”

“What money?”

“Let’s save a little time, shall we? I’m not here on a fishing expedition. I already have a pretty stellar catch. I know you were at Leo’s the night he was murdered. I know he gave you cash. Humungous sums of cash. But what was the money for?”

She ignored my question and stood. “I think you should go now.”

Maybe bold wasn’t working so well. I backtracked and added honey to my tone. “Tell me your side, Cherry. I’m very close to the lieutenant. He listens to me.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You need me. He’s very close to making an arrest. Seriously. Really close.” Which he was, just not her. When she made no move to help me out, I shrugged. “Fine. It’s your murder conviction, not mine. You might really like prison.”

She plopped back into her seat and looked resigned, almost relieved to finally tell someone. “Leo helped with my expenses. The house, my car, some groceries. I don’t make squat as his assistant. Buffalo Bill’s ain’t exactly Microsoft.”

“No offense, but there’s no way this place cost forty grand a month. Where’s the rest of the cash?”

She stubbed out her cigarette. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I leaned forward. “I’m serious, Cherry. You’re on the hook for Leo’s murder. You were at his house. You have his dog. You stole his money.”

She leapt to her feet. Her chair scraped against the concrete pad and startled Donald. “I didn’t steal any money. I don’t even know where he hid it.” She snatched another cigarette from the pack.

“Why was Leo hiding money? I figure he stashed at least a hundred grand.”

She barked out a laugh. “Try two-fifty.”

“Jesus, Cherry, what for?”

“Insurance money against Bebe. In case she found out about us. Leo was getting real paranoid. Worried about the business, worried about Bebe taking him to the cleaners. He was expecting a big windfall, ten times what he already had. Then he’d feel better, he said.” Cherry sat back down. “But I don’t have it, I swear. I don’t even know where it is.”

“Tell me about Saturday night.”

She stood again. Walked to the rail and leaned against it. “We fought. He wouldn’t let me go to your fancy Foundation party and I was pissed. I mean, what the hell? It’s like I never get to go anywhere with him. Bebe was out of town, no one would even care. I’m a business associate, you know?”

She leaned over and stubbed out her freshly-lit cigarette. “So I waited for him to come home. We fought. I broke it off. I left and took Donald with me.”

She looked down at her bare feet. Her shoulders shook slightly and she rested her hands on her knees.

“What time did you leave?”

“Eleven-thirty or so. Maybe a quarter till.” She lifted her head. Thick streaks of teary mascara ran down her face. “If I’d stayed, he’d be alive.”

“Or you’d be dead.”

Her hands shook as she fumbled with her cigarette pack. She emptied the ashtray into a plastic waste can, then lit a third cigarette.

“Have you told any of this to the detectives?”

“No!” She wiped her face with her hands. “They’ll think I did it.”

No shit. You probably did do it. At the very least, Ransom’s case against Jane now had a nice big hitch in it. “Where did you go after you left?”

She wouldn’t look at me. She turned and rubbed Donald’s head, scratched her ears while she drooled on Cherry’s toes.

“You can tell me.”

“Man, this is all so personal.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“Fine. Call Joey. He’ll tell you.”

“Joey? Leo’s partner, Joseph Hirschorn?”

“Yes, Joey Hirschorn. I drove to his house afterward.”

“Wow, that was fast. With the dog, too?”

“Don’t you judge me. I didn’t move down here for nothing.”

I tried to look sympathetic. “Of course not. I’ll need Joey’s address and phone number.”

She walked inside and came back with Joseph’s business card, his home info scribbled on the back. “But he’s still up north. Won’t be back until late tomorrow. Maybe even Tuesday.”

I lifted myself out of the metal lawn chair. “If you think of anything else, call me. You need to call the detectives and tell them everything: the car, the fight, the dog. I’ll talk to them, but it will be much better if they hear it from you first.”

She took a deep drag on her cigarette. “Okay, okay. I’ll call the detective tonight. I got the guy’s card in the kitchen. He’s a hottie, huh?”

“I’ll see myself out,” I said.

I left the curb just before eleven and sailed over the bridge to the island forty-five minutes later. I wasn’t sure about Cherry. Even with Joseph as an alibi. How reliable was that going to be? One lover for another. Maybe they both killed Leo and stole his money.

My fingers tingled at the thought of the money. A huge windfall, she said. It explained the frantic state of Leo’s house. Would Bebe trash her own furniture? Wreck her own possessions? For two million bucks, why not? Finds out about Leo’s young buxom mistress, murders Leo, ferrets out a big stash of untraceable cash. Ain’t love grand?

NINETEEN

I rode my bike to the Big House Monday morning ready to crack down on Foundation business. With the investigation as the top priority, my day-to-day duties had been neglected. I pulled the Mumbai Humanitarian file from the stack. Best to swallow the bitter pills first.

I phoned the Lafferty Foundation in Atlanta.

“Gayle Everheart,” a friendly voice said into my ear.

“Hi, Gayle, it’s Elliott with the Ballantyne.”

“Elliott! How nice to hear from you. How long’s it been? The Atlanta Symphony fundraiser last October, right?”

“You have a great memory.” We caught up on industry gossip for a few minutes. Neither of us mentioned the murder, but I felt it on the line with us, like a switchboard operator dying to butt in. I quickly swung the conversation around to Mumbai. “We received a new application for Mumbai Humanitarian. It says here you awarded them a grant in February.”

“Yes. Reena Patel, right? Charming lady and such a sad tale. It was an easy grant to approve, actually. My assistant personally oversaw the app package, helped walk them through the process,” Gayle said. “Ms. Patel introduced us to several teachers, she showed us the educational materials, a typical day plan. She’s very detail-oriented. I was impressed.”

“So you’d offer a recommendation?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks, Gayle. I appreciate the info. Mr. Ballantyne wants this to go to committee next week and I’ve been neglecting it,” I said. “Let me know if I can return the favor.”

“You know I will,” she said and hung up.

I admit it, I was disappointed. I was hoping Gayle would give me a boatload of reasons to decline the grant. At least a sniff of a scandal or tinge of bad press. I would’ve settled for a concurring opinion on Reena’s nasty personality or maybe a snarky remark about her ridiculously small feet.

My phone rang before I could deteriorate any further.

“Elli! Hello, my dear, hello,” Mr. Ballantyne shouted into my ear. “Can you hear me, Elli?”

I laughed. “Yes, Mr. Ballantyne, loud and clear. You sound like you’re right next door.”

“Oh no, dear Elli. We’re still in India, but we’ll be home on Wednesday. Bringing our new friends from Australia. Did I tell you, Elli? They’re wonderful people.”

“You did, sir. We’re looking forward to it.”

“I’ve gathered the information you wanted on Leo Hirschorn. Do you have a moment to discuss?”

“Of course. Please, go ahead.” I slapped the Mumbai folder closed and opened my notebook to a fresh page.

“He had a life insurance policy. A one million dollar payout split between his wife and son. A straight-forward certificate, signed ten years ago. Nothing hinky there, my girl.”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered as I wrote. “What about Buffalo Bill’s? Any financial troubles?”

“You’re very good. Troubles, indeed. It seems he would leverage one store to finance the next. Our Leo was in a pinch with this economic slowdown. His debts were high and his income low.”

I scribbled the word “money” in bold blue letters. “And the store, sir? Who inherits his shares in Buffalo Bill’s?”

“Bebe Hirschorn, she has rights of survivorship,” he said. “She inherits Leo’s share of the stable. But they’ll need an infusion of cash to keep her afloat.”

“How much cash are we talking?”

“From what the accountants tell me, I’d say two million dollars. Probably not something she has lying around.”

“You never know, sir.” I had a feeling I did indeed know. I underlined my money doodle. Love and money. It seems Leo stockpiled both.

“That’s all I have for now, my dear Elli. We’ll be home in two days. We can’t wait to see you! Vivi sends her love.”

“I send mine as well,” I said, but he was already gone.

Two days! I needed to put Jane’s new attorney in the loop. I left a message for Gregory Meade, asking him to call me back. I thought he should know about Cherry. Pretty hot stuff with Leo stashing cash to protect his mistress, and their stormy fight on the night he died which included both a witness and a dog.

I hadn’t heard from Matty since the big sex kiss on Thursday. I had a feeling he was waiting on me to make the next move, so I went ahead and made it. Two minutes later we were set for a picnic lunch at Seabrook Prep the next day.

I worked until early afternoon catching up on Ballantyne business: files, phone calls, paperwork, lunch. I wanted to get the new meeting scheduled for next week, but unless the case broke, it would have to wait. Of all my top priorities, Leo’s murder still ranked number one.

My phone rang at half-past two. I thought it might be Jane’s attorney returning my call, but it was Sid. “Elliott, you busy?”

“Sid! You made it home from the poker game alive.”

“Yes, sweetie. No gunshot wounds or mob encounters,” she said. “I did try to pick up a little inside info on Leo, but I didn’t get a single drop.”

“Thanks for trying. Speaking of drops, how’s my tunic? Any chance at salvation?”

“I’m working on it, sweetie, but keep your hopes down, okay? Listen, if you’ve got some time this afternoon, I can show you the new Buffalo Bill’s location. There’s a meeting with the developer and I thought you might like to listen in.”

“I’d love to. When?”