Getting Rich (A Chef Landry Mystery) (16 page)

“I won’t give you too much, just a little bit. You have to keep up your strength,” she insisted. She set the cup down and disappeared to the kitchen, returning with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. She handed it to him. He picked up the fork and took a halfhearted bite.

I sat across from him and cleared my throat. “Is there anything I can do for you? Is there anybody you want me to call?”

“No thanks, I’ll call Jennifer’s family myself,” he said flatly. “Before they hear it on the news.”

At that moment, the overture for
Sex in the City
began to play—Toni’s cell phone. She pulled it from her pocket and disappeared down the hall, holding a whispered conversation.

She reappeared a moment later. “That was Jake. He wanted to know if Charles needed company. I told him to come over.”

Toni was in the kitchen refilling Charles’s cup when the doorbell rang. I shuffled over to the door and peeked through the peephole. It was Jake. I opened the door and he walked in looking distressed, Marley in tow. They both appeared to have just tumbled out of bed, with day-old beard and bed hair. They gave me the same questioning look I had given Toni. I nodded, just as she had to me.

“How is he?” Jake whispered. He slipped out of his coat, glancing at Charles over my shoulder.

I shook my head. “Pretty upset as you can imagine.”

He and Marley stepped into the living room. I stayed in the entrance hall, giving them a moment of privacy. At that moment the doorbell rang again. This time it was a stranger.

He stepped inside. “I’m Jennifer’s brother. I just heard—” He turned and spotted Charles. He hurried over.

The doorbell rang again. I opened the door to another stranger. “I’m Bret Atwood, Jennifer’s husband,” a muscular and sullen-looking man said, and without any further ado he went storming over to Charles.

I hovered by the entrance.
Jennifer’s husband?
What the hell?

A heated argument was going on in the living room. I might have been tempted to join in and stand by Charles, who seemed at the receiving end of the second man’s fury. But Jake and Marley stepped in protectively. Meanwhile, the brother was playing ping-pong with his eyes, from Charles to Jennifer’s husband. Why wasn’t he standing up for Charles too?

Toni appeared. “Scott is on his way over too. There’s enough going on in here, I think we should leave.” She handed me my parka and pulled on her coat. We said goodbye, not that anybody noticed, and left. I followed her to her car and we rode back to my house.

“Who the hell were those two bozos?” Toni asked.

“Jennifer’s brother,” I said. “And, it seems, her husband.”

She swung her head around. “Her
what?
”

I took a deep breath. “You heard me. The second guy who came in, that’s how he introduced himself, as Jennifer’s husband.”

As we turned onto Shaw, I glanced at Toni, who looked lost in thought.

“You know, I was just thinking,” she said. “When I die, I want to go like my grandfather, peacefully in my sleep—not screaming like the passengers in his car.”

It might have been the stress, but I burst out laughing and kept laughing until tears rolled down my cheeks.

you’re forgetting something, Sherlock

We walked in, and Toni offered to make a fresh pot of coffee while I checked on Jackie and the puppies. As soon as her back was turned I checked my voice mail again. There was a new message from Mitchell.

“Hey, honey—” oh, so now that I had a broken ankle, I was
honey
, “—I got your message last night. I hardly slept, I was so worried. Please call me the minute you get this.”

I definitely had a mean streak in me, because I was pleased as punch that he was worried.

From the kitchen Toni called out, “Are you good for one cup or two cups?”

I put down the phone and joined her in the kitchen. “You have got to be kidding. I’ve been guzzling coffee nonstop since I got the call in the middle of the night. If I have any more I’ll start shaking like a wet dog.”

She turned to face me, jar of coffee beans in hand. “We’ve both been up for hours. I don’t know about you, but unless I keep slugging it down, I’m likely to fall asleep on my feet.” She turned on the grinder and the rest of what she was saying was drowned out.

I took care of the dogs and when the coffee was ready I joined her in the living room. I dropped down into the overstuffed cushions of my sofa. It felt good to relax.

She poured me a cup. “If we’re going to brainstorm, we might as well be alert.”

I took a few sips and looked up to find Toni staring into her coffee, her brow furrowed with worry. “What are you thinking about?”

“Jennifer. I can’t believe she’s dead. So full of life one minute, and then—”

“I know.” She paused. “What I can’t figure out is who’s behind all this and why. Because, honestly, that crazy lunatic can’t be responsible for all that’s happened. First of all, her claims were outrageous. Nobody stole her restaurant. And what did she think we’d do? Hand her the keys and walk away? That’s completely illogical. And I just don’t see her driving some luxury car, or for that matter torching the restaurant.”

“Except for the bit about it being illogical, you just voiced my thoughts exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t expect a lunatic to be logical. To be insane
is
to be illogical.”

“Good point.”

“I can’t imagine she was involved with the hit-and-run either. But she could have started the fire.”

“But what about Jennifer? Why?”

I nodded. “I know. That’s the problem with that theory. Last I heard, mental patients were not allowed to buy guns.”

“Who says she got it legally?” Toni said, putting down her cup. “It’s probably easier to get a gun illegally than it is to get a permit.” With that, she patted her purse, which had been resting next to her.

I gasped. “You don’t even have a permit?” And then quickly, “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” I went back to our conversation. “Let’s go over everything again. We’ve got to be missing something.”

She looked at me expectantly.

I drummed my fingers on my cup. “What did Jake tell you about that phone call he got while we were being interviewed?”

“He said the call came in a few minutes after our segment. He answered the phone, expecting it to be another reservation. Instead he got an earful of screaming from some crazy woman about how we stole her restaurant. She was rambling and threatening, he said. When he told Charles, he was convinced it was the same woman.” She pursed her mouth. “All I can say is it’s damn lucky she didn’t show up in the middle of the dinner rush that night.”

I had a brief image of a roomful of shocked patrons. “What a disaster that would have been. Can you imagine? Those clients would have never come back.”

“I mean lucky for
her
. With a restaurant full of people, at least one person would have called 911. She’d have been picked up and brought straight to jail.” She shrugged. “Or to the loony bin.”

I stared at her, stunned at her comment. “Wasn’t—that—convenient.” I said slowly.

Her eyes lit up. “What are you suggesting?”

“As you pointed out—” I was still connecting the dots in my mind, “—it was very fortunate. I wonder if she could have planned it.”

Toni leaned in, setting her cup on the coffee table. “You think she was faking that whole Looney-Tunes business?”

We were both silent for a moment as we contemplated this new possibility. Toni picked up her cup again and leaned back, absently rubbing its rim with a perfectly manicured finger. My eyes followed the movement almost hypnotically.

“That’s it!” I exclaimed, as the idea flashed through my mind. “If I’m right, this could explain everything.”

“What?”

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. How much do you want to bet that woman was wearing a disguise?”

Toni looked stunned. “You think she wasn’t a bag lady at all?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know for certain, but if she was, then she could well have done everything else—the hit-and-run, the fire, even Jennifer’s murder. As far as her motive, your guess is as good as mine.”

Toni fixed her stare on me. “This puts a whole different spin on everything.”

Toni was right. But the new spin was a whole lot more scary. Somebody was going to great trouble to throw us off course. I cleared my throat. “If somebody is hiding their identity, Toni, I can think of only two possible reasons.”

Toni stared at me, worried. “What?”

“She was either worried about being identified later, or that we might recognize her, in which case it would mean she’s someone we know.”

“That’s ridiculous. We don’t know anybody who would want to kill us.” Her response had been so quick I couldn’t help wondering if she was afraid I might be right. “All this theorizing is stupid. We should just let the cops solve it.”

“You know me. I don’t trust them to get things right. Just give us a little more time, and we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Toni bobbed her eyebrows. “I think you’re forgetting something, Sherlock. Considering somebody wants us dead, time is one luxury you and I might not have.”

as tense as a spring ready to pop

The tension of a moment ago had dissipated, when suddenly the doorbell rang. Toni got to her feet wearily. “I’ll get it.” She hurried down the hall, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor. A moment later the door opened and I heard the unmistakable voice of Inspector Crawford. I cringed.

“Good, you’re here too,” he was saying. “I have some questions for both of you.”

Crawford and Sanders—ugh. I should have known not having to deal with them was just too good to be true. A moment later, the gruesome twosome strode into the living room. Crawford wore his usual leer. If he’d been dressed in suspenders, he would have been snapping them with self-importance.

I forced myself to sound civil. “What can I do for you, inspectors?”

Crawford smirked. “Why is it that every time I turn around, you’re in trouble again?”

“I guess I’m just unlucky.”

He gave me a mocking smile. “From where I’m standing, I’d say your friend is unluckier than you are. She’s the one who’s dead.” Without waiting for an answer, he plopped himself down on the sofa, and for a moment I had a mental picture of him sitting in the middle of a pile of sofa debris. My sofa held. Sanders sat next to him and pulled out a notebook.

“If you really believe that,” Toni said, looking down at Crawford from her skyscraper heels, “maybe you should keep your distance from her—or better yet, from both of us.”

She came over and perched herself on the arm of my chair. She was as tense as a spring ready to pop. I prayed she’d keep her cool. Having her and Crawford at each other’s throats was the last thing I wanted to do. It would only make him dig in his teeth deeper.

The stream of questions began.

“At what time did you last see the victim?”

The question was for both of us, but Toni answered. “Must have been around ten-thirty, or maybe closer to eleven.” She looked to me for confirmation.

I nodded. “That sounds about right.”

“Which one of you left last?”

This time I answered. “We left at the same time. Toni locked up behind us and then drove me home.” I gestured to my cast. “I’m not driving these days.”

“And I only went back for a minute,” Toni added.

Crawford glanced up at her, suddenly alert. “You went back to the restaurant? Why?”

Toni squinted, looking defiant. “I forgot something. I just went back to pick it up. I was in and out in less than a minute.”

“What did you forget?”

“Oh, I forgot my purse.” The hesitation had been so brief he might not have noticed. But his eyes shifted over to me, and I just knew he’d seen the surprise in mine. I put on a blank expression and stared at the wall.

“Your purse,” Crawford repeated slowly.

“That’s right,” she said. Silence descended.

At last he spoke again. “Did you happen to see the victim when you returned for your purse?”

“No, as I said, I was in and out in less than a minute.”

Crawford continued with the interrogation. During all of this, Sanders kept taking notes, his face impassive.

At last Crawford paused and, looking at Toni, he said, “The fire inspector is under the impression you might have been the intended victim. If you don’t mind my asking, Mrs. Lawford, if something happened to you, who would benefit?”

“That’s none of anybody’s business. Even if somebody had been trying to kill me, it couldn’t have been anyone I know.”

He leaned back wearily. “Whenever somebody gets murdered, the first thing I do is look for the motive. And unless we’re dealing with a psychopath, the two first reasons are usually love or greed.”

I happened to glance at Toni at that moment and saw the flash of an idea go through her eyes. She’d just thought of something. I tried to think what Crawford had just said that might have ignited that spark, but drew a blank.

Crawford continued. “Knowing your situation will help me establish possible motives. So, for the record, ma’am, who stands to benefit from your death?”

“Actually, I’m in the process of having my will changed. So it’s irrelevant. But since you insist, Nicky has been my heir for the last few years, but I have an appointment with my estate lawyer in a few days. And then I’ll be making my sister and my niece my primary beneficiaries.”

Crawford’s eyebrows almost jumped off his forehead. “Really,” he said, his gaze sliding from her to me. He studied me measuringly. “Really,” he repeated. “Isn’t that interesting?” And then he asked the question I just knew would be my undoing. “And how much would Miss Landry inherit if you were to die before then?”

Sanders picked up his pad again, ready to jot down the answer.

Toni looked at the ceiling as she counted silently. “Somewhere around seventeen mil,” she said at last. “Give or take.”

For a moment I thought the two men would have heart attacks. Sanders blanched. Crawford coughed and the blood flooded into his face until it was the same deep red as his blood-orange nose. He stared at Toni in disbelief. Slowly his eyes swung back to me. “Seventeen million bucks.” He whistled. “The way I see it, that’s seventeen awfully good reasons for somebody wanting you dead.” Again, his eyes shifted over to me.

All at once I had the uncomfortable feeling that I now had a new bull’s-eye on my back, and that Inspector Crawford was taking careful aim. I’d escaped prosecution once, but I suspected he had no intention of letting me escape him again. If he had his way, this time he’d put me away for life.

I exploded. “I told you about the woman who threatened us days ago—when I was in the hospital. If you’d gone looking for her instead of dismissing everything I told you, then maybe I’d still have a business to run and, more important, Jennifer would still be alive.”

*

Toni slammed the door shut and strode back to the living room, looking livid. “Can you believe that man? I don’t know
what
makes him so stupid, but whatever it is, it really works. How exactly does he imagine you got to the restaurant? Maybe you called a cab and asked the driver to wait while you went inside and shot Jennifer. And then you coolly took the cab back to your place? Or, maybe you jogged over on one foot.” She picked up our cold cups of coffee and carried them to the kitchen.

“At least he didn’t arrest me,” I called after her. I had almost expected he would, especially after my outburst. “I don’t know why Crawford dislikes me so much.”

“You made mincemeat of all his theories when Rob was murdered, and then you caught the murderer,” Toni shouted back.

Could a cop really hold a grudge against a person just because they went looking for the truth? Wasn’t that exactly what the police want in the first place? The truth? I thought of all the trouble Crawford could cause me, and an anvil settled in my stomach. “Knowing the way that man operates, he’s mounting a case against me as we speak.”

“He’s a moron—a dangerous moron, but a moron nonetheless.”

“By the way, seventeen million? Is that how much you’re worth?” I’d always known Toni had tons of money, but seventeen million was an insane amount. “And I’m your sole beneficiary—for another few days,” I added, grinning.

She smiled right back. “Actually, I’d say my net worth is closer to double that amount, but I didn’t want those two bozos to know how much I really have.”

I was speechless.

Toni continued as if nothing. “They’d be crazy to try and pin this on you. If Jennifer really was mistaken for me, all it proves is that you’re innocent.”

I found my voice. “How do you figure that?”

She smirked. “You would never have mistaken Jennifer for me.”

“You’re right. But Crawford will probably argue that it was dark, and that I was expecting you to be there, so I didn’t take the time to look before I shot.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“In this case I think he might have a point,” I said, and seeing the surprise in her eyes I explained. “
I
wouldn’t have made that mistake, but somebody else could have easily mistaken her for you, especially in the dim light.”

“Do you really think someone was after
me?
”

“It’s possible. But then, I suppose there are other possibilities.”

She groaned. “Why can’t it be that somebody was after you?”

I laughed outright. “That’s one advantage of having no money. Nobody can profit from my death. All I have to leave are debts. Besides. Look at me. I’m a redhead, and about five inches too short and a couple of pounds too heavy for anyone to have mistaken Jennifer for me.”

She gave me a bleary look. “I need a drink.” She hopped off the sofa and strode over to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Where do you keep your liquor?”

It wasn’t even noon yet, but all I said was, “In the cupboard by the window.”

Some banging followed, and then the clinking of glasses. A moment later she was back, carrying a bottle of whiskey. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’m only having coffee—Irish coffee.”

I raised an eyebrow. “On an empty stomach?”

“I was starving until those two morons showed up. Now, all I want is to drown my worries away.” She took the spot where the two morons had been sitting a minute earlier. She leaned forward to pour. “One shot or two?” she asked herself. “Aw hell, when in doubt make it both—one shot
plus
two.”

“Er, Toni. I just thought of something. When you went back to the restaurant, you said you were only there for a second. Do you think Jennifer might already have been there?”

She paled. Her brow furrowed as she thought furiously for a few seconds. She spoke at last, sounding very unconvincing. “No, absolutely not. We’d only been gone a few minutes when I went back. She couldn’t possibly have come in during that short time...could she?”

“We should find out what time Jennifer left Charles’s house.” I had another thought, this one even worse. “There’s something else we have to consider. What if Jennifer was shot with your gun?”

A dozen emotions played over her face. She set the bottle of whisky down and snatched her purse. She fished out her gun, opened the barrel and looked inside. And then she sniffed it. “No,” she said, weak with relief. “This gun hasn’t been fired in a long time. And all the bullets are still inside.”

“What makes you think it wasn’t fired?”

She put her gun away, placing her bag on the floor. She turned to me with a knowing look. “It would still smell of cordite.”

“I hate to tell you this, Toni, but cordite hasn’t been used in ammunition since the Second World War. Where’d you come up with that idea?”

“Oh, er, I saw that on a TV show.” She looked down at her purse. “You’re telling me I can’t tell by the smell whether it was recently fired or not?”

I shook my head. “Only in the movies, sweetheart.”

She looked worried for a second, and then brightened up. “It couldn’t have been my gun because all the bullets are still inside, unless you’re suggesting that someone reloaded it, which would mean they just happened to be carrying the right caliber bullets for my gun.”

“You’re right. That’s not likely.” I puzzled over it for a moment. “I have a feeling we might be looking at this the wrong way.”

“I can’t argue that. At this point we’re not sure of anything.” She stirred her coffee reflectively. “What’s on your mind?”

“There is one possibility we didn’t consider. What if Jennifer was the intended victim all along?”

This took her by surprise. “Why would anybody want Jennifer dead?” And then she answered her own question. “It’s true that we hardly know anything about her. She could be a drug dealer. She could be a...a...” She groped for other possibilities.

“We know she was Charles’s girlfriend and that they lived together. I think that if Charles was in love with her, she must have been nice. Also, she’s been working with us now for nearly two weeks, and she was absolutely lovely.” My throat tightened. “Such a tragedy.”

She nodded. “You’re right. But, much as I hate to remind you, she was a lovely
married
person. And, I’ve been thinking about Charles, too.”

“What
about
Charles?”

She looked down into her nearly empty cup, reached for the pot and refilled it, adding a generous splash of whisky. She leaned back. “Don’t you think he’s living in an awfully expensive house for someone earning barely more than minimum wage?”

I knew exactly where she was going with this, and I didn’t like it. “What do you mean?” I asked, pretending confusion.

She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes, I swear, you’re more of a blonde than a redhead. Don’t you want to know who that house belongs to? Is it Charles’s or Jennifer’s? Don’t forget, they had an argument the night Jennifer was killed. I wonder how solid their relationship was. For all we know they could have been on the verge of breaking up. Maybe she wanted to go back to her husband.”

I almost gasped. “You’re implying that Charles might have killed Jennifer...out of jealousy...or for the house? That’s ridiculous.”

“No more ridiculous than somebody wanting to kill
me
for my money. Think about it. Everybody seems to think that somebody tried to kill me for my estate, but, hey, I’m not the one who died. Jennifer did.”