Murder for Bid (2 page)

We ate in silence for a while, savoring every bite. My dates with Sean were always comfortable. It was like we’d been together for years. Actually we had been. Well, at least on and off. It was a hard relationship to understand. One thing for sure, if I ever married the guy, I’d have to keep my maiden name.
Pippi Panelli sounded like one of those tongue twisters my speech therapist made me practice in grade school.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. Sean had known me long enough to get used to my long absences from conversation.

I bit my lip and chuckled, “Nothing important. I’ve got to tell you about what I found today. I was over on Cedar where they’re doing all that new construction.”

“Uh, huh.” he mumbled, shaking cheese all over our pizza, which irritated me since I didn’t really want cheese on my slice. I fought back a biting comment and continued. “Anyway, I found this great shirt. It was like new. The only thing wrong was a lipstick stain on the collar.”

“Great. Good for you.”

“No. That’s not it. Don’t you get it? It was in the garbage. That could only mean that it was thrown out because it was evidence.”

“Evidence?” He raised a brow. “Of what?”

“Of cheating.
The man was cheating on his wife! Probably with his secretary.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. You found a shirt with a lipstick stain on it and you automatically assume that the guy is having an affair? What about his wife? Maybe it was her lipstick.”

“Then why’d he throw it out? Why not just wash it?”

Sean shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t want to bother with it. You know, not everyone is as frugal as you.”

This was true, but I just didn’t buy it that someone would throw out that nice of a shirt. I was just about to continue the debate when the tone of Sean’s cell interrupted.

“Panelli.”
He removed a notebook and jotted down a few things. “I’ll be right there.”

I quickly shoved down the last bite of my pizza. Sean rose and threw a couple of bills on the table. “Sorry. I’m going to have to take you home.”

“What’s up?” I muttered with a full mouth.

“A homicide.”

My eyes bulged. “Homicide? We were just talking about how there are never any of those around here. Weird. I’ll ride with you.”

“No you won’t. I’m taking you back to your place.”

“I won’t interfere. I promise.” I crossed two fingers over my heart.

“That’s what you said last time I let you ride.” He was referring to the time I was riding with him and spotted a purse snatcher who, as it turned out, was just some guy chasing down his wife because she had left her purse behind—an honest mistake.

“My place is out of the way, you’ll have to double back. That’ll cost you time.”

“That’s alright. Let’s get moving.”

“Please!” I begged.

“Stop!
You’re making a scene.” He looked around, embarrassed. “All right. You can ride with me. You’re right,” he glanced at his phone, “I really don’t have time to take you back anyway. I’ve got to get there and help secure the scene.”

I squealed with delight. I’d do about anything to get a glimpse of a crime scene, a quirk that I’m sure stemmed from the fact that I’d read
too many mystery novels and logged too much time in front of the television watching crime TV.

Once in the car, Sean spent the whole time on his cell talking to the guys who were already on the scene. After a short ride, we turned the corner onto a street crammed with squad cars and uniformed cops.

“This is Cedar Street,” I said.

“I know.”

“But, I was just here this afternoon.”

“You were?”

“Yes, Sean. Don’t you ever listen? This is where that guy with the shirt lives.”

“Who?”

“The guy with the lipstick stain on his shirt. This is his house! Was he murdered? His wife did it! She found out about the affair with his secretary!”

Sean pulled in behind a city cruiser and turned his full attention on me. “Did you witness a murder today and just forgot to tell me about it?”

“No. I found that shirt with the lipstick stain. Like I said, it had to be the wife. She killed him in a fit of jealousy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not even sure I want to know. Can this wait?”

“No.”

“Stay in the car,” he barked, hopping out and starting across the lawn.

I rolled down the window and yelled after him. “But, Sean. I have a theory about what happened here. At least have your guys check to see if all the garbage was collected. If so, maybe they can canvas the bags at the dump and find the shirt.”

He waved me off and kept walking.

I sank back into the seat, defeated. He never took me seriously. Certainly, it was obvious that this was a crime of passion. I could see the whole scenario: 
The wife finds the shirt and probably several other signs of her husband’s infidelity. She confronts him about the affair. He confesses. She flips. She pulls a pistol out of the … no a steak knife … and plunges it into his heart. If she can’t have him, no one will.

I caught a glimpse of movement and looked up to see Mr. Cheater who, surprisingly, was very much alive, emerge from the house flanked on either side by uniformed officers. Guess I needed to rethink my theory.

I continued to observe the trio as they moved down the front walk. The man had changed out of his golf attire and was now wearing khakis and a striped button-down shirt. His shoulders were hunched and he swayed unsteadily, almost leaning into the officers for support. I rolled down the window as they made their way to the sidewalk. I was able to make out few snatches of their conversation.

“Why her?
Who would do this?” He seemed distraught. His shoulders heaved as he spoke.

“Councilman Schmidt, is there anyone we can call to be with you at this time?” I heard one of the officers ask.

Ah. So, he’s a city councilman. I watched him closely as he pulled out a cell phone and began punching buttons. A councilman would be a man closely followed by the public eye. I did a mental nod and began tugging at a loose curl, letting my mind run with this new information:

Councilman Schmidt, after seeing his shirt in the garbage, knows he’s caught. His wife confronts him with the affair and threatens a divorce with a huge settlement. He flies into a fit of rage. He knows the divorce will tarnish his public image and ruin his political ambitions. Murdering his wife is the perfect way out. Now, not only can he be with his lover, but he will gain tons of sympathy as the grieving husband of a brutally slain woman.

Sean, wearing white latex gloves, emerged from the house and approached the group,  “Councilman Schmidt, the coroner is having difficulty placing the time of death since your hot tub’s heater has affected the body temperature. You made the 911 call at 5:27 p.m. How long had you been in the house before you found her body?”

I leaned out of the car window, straining to hear his answer. “Only five minutes, maybe. I came in and got a beer from the fridge and
flipped on the news. I was surprised that Amanda wasn’t in the kitchen making dinner, so I headed upstairs to see what was going on. I thought maybe she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary when you entered your home?” Sean asked.

“No, not really. Wait. There was something weird that happened earlier today.”

“What was that, sir?”

“Well, I came home around lunch to change after a round of golf. When I got here, there was a woman going through my garbage.”

Sean grimaced. I sank back into the seat and quickly turned my face away from the window, still keeping an ear peeled.

“Can you describe her?” Sean practically choked on the question.

“I didn’t get a great look at her face, but I remember that she was dressed in rags and had messy red hair. She must have been homeless. We usually don’t have those types in this neighborhood.”

Dressed in rags? I was wearing overalls and a plaid shirt for crying out loud.

“We should have him sit down with a sketch artist, sir,” one of the officers suggested.

“Well, yes … perhaps.” Sean cleared his throat. “Everything seemed fine when you were home at lunchtime?”

“Yes.
Fine. Amanda was going to stay home this afternoon and make calls for an upcoming fundraiser for Community Union Library.”

Sean turned toward one of the officers. “I’ll need you to find the list of people she was contacting and we’ll need a phone record to help establish a time of death.”

“What time did you leave the house after changing, sir?” Sean inquired.

“Around 1:00. I was back at the office by 1:30.”

“Then you returned home at a little after 5:00.”

“Yes.”

“Did you have any other contact with your wife throughout the day? A phone call, email?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me how you discovered your wife?”

Schmidt drew in a deep breath. “Like I said, I came in and couldn’t find Amanda so I went upstairs. I noticed that our bedroom was torn up a little bit. Then I walked into the bathroom and...” He broke into sobs.

There was a respectful silence while Schmidt composed himself. I slouched further down still keeping my face hidden from view.

Sean asked, “Did you use your key to get into the house?”

“No, the front door was unlocked.”

“Do you always go in the front door?” Sean was watching Schmidt’s reactions closely.

“Most of the time. Why?”

“Just routine questions, sir.
You said that there was some jewelry missing. I’ll have one of the officers get a full description of the stolen items from you.”

Just then, a black Mercedes screeched to a halt next to me. A well-groomed older couple emerged and rushed over to the group. I noticed that Sean’s demeanor change noticeably as the couple approached.

“Judge Reiner, what brings you here?” Sean asked.

“I’m here as a close personal friend of Councilman Schmidt.”

One look at the man confirmed everything I’d heard. Judge Reiner, with his massive bulk, burly face, and comb-over, looked a bit like the Incredible Hulk having a bad hair day. His physical appearance definitely matched his reputation as a tyrant in the courtroom.

The judge pushed his way toward Schmidt. “We just heard the news. Richard. I’m so sorry about Amanda. We got here as soon as we could.”

The woman with the judge placed a heavily jeweled hand on Schmidt’s arm. “This is all so awful. What can we do?”

Schmidt buried his face in his hands, “I don’t know. I can’t believe this is happening. I just saw her this morning and everything was fine.” He looked toward the house. “It was awful. All the blood...”

Mrs. Reiner moved in closer and wrapped a consoling arm around Schmidt. “You need to be with friends right now, Richard. Why don’t you let us pack up a few things and take you back to our house? You can stay with us,” she said throwing her husband a prompting look.

“Yes, stay at our place,” the judge offered after a slight hesitation.

Schmidt bristled. “No I can’t do that,” he blurted out, and then added in a more subdued tone, “Thanks anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“Well then, at least let us drop you somewhere. Do you have family nearby?” Mrs. Reiner began ushering Schmidt toward the Mercedes.

“Just a minute, Mrs. Reiner. We have a few more questions for Councilman Schmidt.”

“Look, Panelli,” the judge inserted himself, “The man just lost his wife. Can’t your questions wait?”

I watched Sean as he shifted his stance slightly. I had dated him long enough to recognize this posture; it was his stubborn stance. “I’m afraid not, sir. You know as well as I that the first few hours after a crime are crucial to the investigation. I need to get as much information from Councilman Schmidt as I can, while it’s still fresh in his memory.” Sean lightly grabbed Schmidt’s arm. “Can you come with me, sir?”

Schmidt stiffened. His eyes nervously darted between Sean and the judge. “I know enough about crime investigations to know that I’m the number one suspect. The husband always is. But, I didn’t do this. I would never kill my wife. I loved her.”

You also loved your secretary, I thought.

“Yes, sir,” Sean replied, still trying to nudge him away from the judge and his wife.

Schmidt was starting to become agitated. “What about that homeless woman I told you about! She probably broke in to rob the place and killed Amanda. Aren’t you going to follow up on that? You’re wasting your time questioning me when you ought to be out looking for that vagrant woman.”

I couldn’t shrink any lower in the car.

“I can assure you that we’re being very thorough, sir. There’s a squad car right over here. My questions will only take a couple more minutes and then you can be on your way.”

“Do you need me to call an attorney, Richard?” the judge asked.

“What? I don’t need an attorney. I didn’t kill her!”