Ice Cream Murder (6 page)

A blur of beige went by and something niggled Lexy’s memory. Was that the car that she’d seen behind her on the way to the agility class?

“I heard about Regis Banks,” George said as if reading her mind. Lexy’s stomach sank. She turned to look at him, forgetting about the beige car. If word had gotten out already, people might avoid the bakery.

“Yeah, that was awful,” she said.

“Awful? I think it was about time.”

“Excuse me?” Lexy’s brows knit together. She walked back toward the case, staring at George.

“Oh, I know it sounds mean, but I’m glad the old goat is dead.”

“Really? You didn’t like him?”

“Not too many did.”

“Why?”

George frowned. “He might have been a good businessman, but he was a terrible person. Do you know how he came by all the land that made him rich?”

Lexy shook her head. “Not really. I just assumed he bought it.”

“Bought it? He stole it. Ripped it right out from under poor, unsuspecting folks. Hard working folks like you and me.”

“Stole it? But how could he—”

“I don’t mean he did anything illegal. No, he was too smart for that. He skirted right along the edge of the law. Preyed on families in distress and worked them until they sold the land at dirt cheap prices.” George pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Used some sneaky, underhanded tricks too.”

“I never heard that.”

“Well, most people don’t like to talk about it. The families it happened to were probably embarrassed. But if you ask me, there are a lot of people who wanted him dead, even if he was already old. Some would have loved the satisfaction of doing him in themselves.” George shrugged, then tapped on the glass front of the case. “I’ll take a half dozen of those raspberry scones.”

Lexy boxed up the scones, her mind whirling as she cashed George out and bid him goodbye. She hadn’t considered that Regis might have an enemy that would want him dead. But, again, who would go to the trouble of killing a one-hundred year old man?

Her phone chirped and she pulled it out of her pocket. Nans.
 

“Hi, Lexy. Can you put together a box of assorted pastries for tomorrow morning?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Ruth discovered that Winston Banks serves on the same charity board with Stanley McKitterick. We know Stan. In fact, he’s kind of sweet on Helen.”

“I made a discovery of my own today,” Lexy said. She searched the pastry case deciding what to put in the box.

“Oh, really?”

“Yep. George Finley was in and he told me that Regis was a little sketchy in his business dealings.”

“I’d heard he was a tough businessman.”

“Well, according to George, he screwed people over. He seems to think there would be plenty of people who would have liked to have seen Regis dead.”

“Revenge. I didn’t think of that,” Nans said.
 

Lexy could hear the squeak of marker on white-board through the phone. “I’ll write that down, but it would have had to be someone at the party and I doubt anyone who had a grudge against Regis would have been invited. Besides, how would they have gotten close enough to switch the ice cream?”

“Good point.” Lexy felt disappointed. “I guess the Winston angle is the best we have so far.”

“Right. We’re meeting with Stan at eleven tomorrow. Do you want to come with us?”

***

Of course, Lexy wanted to go with Nans and the ladies to meet with Stan, so she picked them up at ten thirty and drove to the ritzy neighborhood where Stan lived. His expansive Cape Cod house was situated on a large, well-landscaped lot. Stan didn’t have as much money as Winston Banks, but he seemed to be fairly well off.

They walked to the door and Nans pushed Helen to the front, then rang the bell.

The door opened.

“Helen!” A man of about eighty answered the door, his tanned face breaking into a wide smile at Helen. His sharp brown eyes looked over her shoulder at the rest of us, lighting with recognition when they fell on Nans, Ruth and Ida. “Ladies, how nice to see you.”

“It’s always a pleasure, Stanley.” Nans grabbed the box of pastries from Lexy and held them up. “My granddaughter, Lexy, brought some pastries from her bakery.”

“Oh, right. You own
The Cup and Cake
don’t you?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Nice to meet you.” Stan pushed the door wide. “Please, come in and join me. I was just about to have a cup of tea.”

They followed Stan down an oak paneled hallway to the wide country kitchen. A red brick fireplace dominated one wall, birch cabinets on the rest.

“Have a seat.” Stan gestured toward a solid maple table and chair set as he got busy transferring the pastries from the box to a large crystal platter. Lexy and the ladies arranged themselves at the table, forcing Helen into the seat to the right of the chair at the head of the table, which they left empty for Stan.

“Tea?” Stan turned with a steaming teapot in his hand. They all murmured yes and a few minutes later each of them had their teacups full and pastries on small etched crystal plates in front of them.

“So, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Stan plucked a sugar cube out of a bowl with silver tongs and dropped it into his tea.

“Well, it’s kind of a delicate matter.” Helen leaned into Stan and smiled up at him from beneath her lashes. Lexy noticed Stan got all googly-eyed. The man was positively smitten with Helen.

“Go on,” he sighed.

“Well, you see,” Helen cleared her throat. “I have some questions about Winston Banks.”

“Banks? Oh, yes, I know the fellow.” Stan gazed into Helen’s eyes. Lexy wondered if he even knew what he was saying.
 

Lexy, Nans, Ruth and Ida sipped their tea and nibbled their pastries in silence—no one wanted to say a word for fear they would break the spell Helen seemed to have cast over Stan.

“I’m writing a piece for the paper about old money and how it affects the second generation,” Helen said, casting a nervous glance at the others.

Nans left eyebrow ticked up, but she didn’t say a word.

“Oh, you still write for the paper?” Stanley asked.

“Sometimes.” Helen sipped her tea. “Anyway, you know how money can corrupt. I was just wondering if Winston was corrupted by the Banks millions.”

Stan scrunched up his face, chewing on his bottom lip like he knew something and was deciding whether or not to tell. Helen leaned in even closer, smiling even wider. Lexy wondered if she would actually go so far as to bat her eyelashes.

“Well, I suppose this isn’t a big secret, so I don’t think I’m talking out of school. Winston was a pretty good guy, but he did have one weakness.”

“Oh?”

“Gambling. He was into poker big time. Too bad he wasn’t a very good player. Heck, I even cleaned him out a few times and I’m only a fair player. But, with his money …” Stan shrugged.

“Oh, so did he play often or was it just in friendly weekly games?” Helen asked.

“At first, he just played a casual weekly game. But then I heard he got in deep. Started going to some high stakes games in the city. I guess there’s a whole underground poker network that plays in the back rooms of seedy bars.” Stan shook his head. “That’s a real nasty crowd. A man could get in big trouble if he lost a lot of money. But, with Winston’s money he had a lot to play with.

“Yes, he did have a lot,” Helen agreed.

Nans exchanged looks with Lexy. Did he have a lot of money? Rumor had it Regis kept them on a tight budget, but he must have made a good salary.

“So, anyway, Helen, how have you been?” Stan slid his hand on top of hers. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, too long. And it’s been lovely to see you again.” Helen slid her hand out from under Stan’s. “But we really must be going.”

“So soon?”

“Yes, I’m afraid Ida has an appointment at the podiatrist at noon and she really can’t miss it.” Helen leaned closer to Stan and whispered loudly, “Her toenails are like horse hoofs.”

Nans, Ruth and Lexy stifled giggles while Ida shot daggers at Helen. They pushed up from their chairs, murmured their thanks and had a round of good-byes at the door before escaping to the car.
 

“That explains it. Winston really did have an urgent need for the money.” Nans half-turned in her seat to look at Ruth, Ida and Helen.

“Some of those gamblers are bad news. If he owed a lot of money, they could have threatened him with all kinds of nasty things,” Ida said.

“And I’m sure he couldn’t go to his father for money,” Lexy added.

Ruth snorted. “No way. Regis wouldn’t approve of gambling.”

“But if Regis died,” Helen said, “then Winston might inherit enough to pay off the gambling debt.”

“We
think
he would,” Ida leaned forward, sticking her head into the front seat. “We won’t know for sure until Ruth talks to Shirley about the will.”

“I don’t know about you girls, but this puts Winston at the top of the suspect list for me.” Nans blue eyes twinkled with excitement. “If we can find out how much he owed, we might be able to prove that he had a motive and maybe the police would open it as a homicide and clear Lexy of any wrongdoing.”

“And just how do you propose we do that?” Lexy slid a sideways glance at her grandmother, picturing the four ladies crashing high stakes poker games disguised in matching tan trench coats.

“Oh, I’m not exactly sure right now … but I’ll think of something,” Nans said.

“That’s
exactly
what I’m afraid of,” Lexy replied.

Chapter Eight

Lexy had to admit she was worried about Nans and the ladies doing something crazy in order to find out about the poker games. She figured she better try to head them off at the pass and get the information herself. And she couldn’t think of anyone who would know more about the seedy world of underground high stakes poker games than her own husband.

She took a coconut cream pie home from the bakery. It was Jack’s favorite dessert—she hoped that would persuade him to be more talkative about the poker games. She figured a nice home-cooked meal wouldn’t hurt either, which was why she’d left work a little early and picked up the fixings for lasagna.

Lexy stood in the kitchen, one eye on the clock and the other on the oven where the lasagna was just now browning. Jack should be home in ten minutes. The timing was perfect to get the meal to the table just as he walked in the door.

Sprinkles watched her with hawk-like eyes as she mixed the salad.

“You want a little piece of lettuce?”

Sprinkles spun around gleefully. Lexy picked a piece of romaine out of the bowl and handed it to the dog who sniffed it, swallowed it in one gulp and then returned to staring up at Lexy.

She heard Jack’s car pull into the driveway and her stomach flip-flopped. Even though they’d been married almost a year, Jack still had that effect on her. She poured red wine into two wine glasses, then leaned against the counter with one glass held out as Jack walked into the room.

“Hey, now, that’s how I like to be greeted.” He took the glass and kissed her on the lips, then glanced at the oven. “What’s the occasion?”

“Oh, nothing.” Lexy opened the oven door to a perfect lasagna—the edges just turning golden. “I thought a good meal would be fun.”

“Well, you know I always like a good meal.”

“You sit. I’ll serve.” Lexy pushed him toward the table.

“Oh, and I get waited on?” Jack sipped his wine. “Doesn’t get much better than that.”

 
“Don’t worry, you can do the dishes.” Lexy slid the lasagna out of the oven and put it on top of the stove to cool while she tossed the salad, then scooped some into matching teak salad bowls. She slid one bowl in front of Jack, then took the seat opposite him.

“So, how was work?” Lexy speared a cherry tomato and brought it to her lips.

“The usual.” Jack replied. “You?”

“Great. I brought home coconut cream pie for dessert.”

Jack’s eyes lit at the mention of his favorite pie. “Yum. After dessert, we should do some more packing at my house.”

Lexy picked through her salad. Jack lived in the house behind her. In fact, they’d met initially when Sprinkles slipped through a gap in the fence and did her ‘business’ on Jacks shrubs. Shortly after, he’d had to accuse her of murdering her ex-fianc
é
, but it had all worked out in the end and now they were one married couple with two houses.
 

Lexy had refused to part with the house she’d bought from Nans—it had too many wonderful childhood memories. So, they’d decided to put Jack’s house up for sale. But first, they’d have to clean it out and get it ready. The house was packed to the brim with ‘stuff’, some of it from the previous owners who had lived there for over fifty years. It was proving to be a daunting task.

Lexy got up and cut the lasagna. She put a large, gooey, cheesy-dripping piece on on Jack’s plate and a smaller one on her own. She sat back down and concentrated on eating while contemplating how to divert the conversation to high stakes gambling.
 

“Did you hear anything more from Norman Shea?” Jack asked.

Lexy had told him about Norman accosting her in the driveway. Jack had offered to talk to him and make sure he didn’t bother her again, but Lexy had developed a pang of sympathy for the nerdy Norman and declined. The police visiting him would probably scar him for life.

“No, but Nans has been digging into the Regis Banks death,” she ventured.
 

Jack’s eyebrows rose and Lexy took a gulp of wine before continuing.

“She discovered that Winston had a gambling problem. Seems he might have owed a lot of money to some underground gambling people.”
 

“Oh. Really?” Jack shoveled another forkful of lasagna in.

“Nans seems to think that might give him motive to kill Regis
now
instead of waiting for him to die.” Lexy pushed the lasagna around on her plate. “Do you know anything about these poker games?”

Jack chewed, thinking carefully about his answer. “Well, you know organized gambling is illegal in this state, but that doesn’t stop people from doing it. There are a few gambling rings in the city. They move from place to place, so we can never bust them up. It’s all hush-hush and, needless to say, attracts a nasty criminal element. If Winston was involved in those and owed them … well, let’s just say he might be in dire need of money for sure.”