Plateful of Murder (14 page)

“Take a gander.” He pulled out a wrinkled and stained yellow stub. “Found this stuck to the bottom of John Luther’s trash can. Or should I call him the future CEO and King of Triton? Anyway, he must have thought he got rid of it.”

I took the crinkled ticket stub and held it close to my face. It was the kind you get when you valet park. Time stamped just a couple of hours before Constance’s death. “Do you think Constance was with him then?”

Ed pointed his index finger at me like it was a gun. “Bingo.”

The name of a restaurant was printed on the other side of the ticket. “The Grape. Hmm. Probably worth a visit.”

“Want me to tag along?” He grinned. “Maybe twist a few arms?”

“Thanks, but I prefer my questioning non-violent.” Ed was already in too deep. Plus, I needed to stick to the case, to keep it within my grasp. There was little enough within my control, but what there was, I planned to hang on to, especially with those threatening phone calls. It was the only way to keep my sanity. “Besides, you’ve helped plenty.”

He looked like a kid who’d only received raisins while trick-or-treating. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.” He stood, stretched, and then headed toward the restaurant door.

I rushed after him. “Hey, Ed. Thank you.” My impression was that somehow I’d let him down. “Is it alright to call you when I’m done?”

He pulled out his cigarettes and nodded. “You do that.” He shuffled away.

Realizing my question sounded little more than throwing him a bone, I followed him outside. “Ed!” When he turned, I slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Forgot all about the meeting this morning with another client. Do you think you could check with the valets?”

“Easy as pie.”

We went our separate ways, and I had just taken a seat behind my office desk when my cell phone rang. “This is Claire DeNardo.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Corrigan’s words were clipped.

I wanted to quickly disconnect and change my number. “What do you mean?”

“Claire, this isn’t a game. You could get hurt, even killed. I don’t want that, and I’m guessing neither do you.”

I didn’t say anything, but my legs bounced up and down so hard they hit the underside of my desk.

After a few seconds of heavy silence, he said, “Meet me at Three Birds Restaurant on Madison Road at 2:00 p.m. today. Do you know where that is?”

My legs stopped twitching. “I’ll find it. But why do you want to get together? You should know you can’t talk me out of this case. Not now.”

He huffed. “We’ll see about that.”

I stared at the phone after we’d disconnected. Realizing it wouldn’t talk back, I set it down and turned on my computer. The phone rang again.

This time though, the call was more than welcome. “Hi, Michael. How are you?” Despite my attempt to sound cheerful, the conversation with Corrigan left its mark.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Michael was all concern and caring. “Say the word and I’ll be there in a minute. You’re at your office, right?”

“Yes. You don’t need to come here. It’s just…” My voice trailed off while my brain searched for the right explanation. “I’m hungry.” That was lame, but I didn’t want him to know about my meeting with Ed or that Corrigan wanted me off the case too.

Excitement coursed through Michael’s voice. “Then this was the perfect time to call. How does osso bucco with risotto sound for dinner?”

“Irresistible.” Anticipation of a meal like that wiped out the nasty taste of the last few nights. “What time is dinner?”

“What about 7:00?”

Enough time to meet with Corrigan, get home, make sure no one was lurking about, change clothes, and get to Michael’s.“One question though.”

He chuckled. “Dessert is crème brulee.”

Not only was this sweet man a great cook, he could also read my mind. “Lovely.” My dopey smile lingered even after our call ended.

My phone rang again. My father this time.

“Tell me you’ve given this case up.”

“My meeting with the client is tonight,” I hedged.

“So you haven’t done it yet. Pumpkin, let the cops handle it. That’s what they get paid for.” He blew out a deep breath. “I hate to interfere with your life. That’s what we have Lena for. But I love you, and if something happened to you I’d have to go after the sonofabitch myself.”

“I know.” I felt like his little girl again. “You won’t have to worry any more, okay?” Was fibbing to your father a bigger sin than lying to the police?

“Okay. No more bugging you about it. So, do you wanna go to church with me next Tuesday? I’m having a mass said for your mother.”

I hadn’t been inside Holy Trinity, or any church for that matter, since my mother died. “Sure, what time?”

“The mass is at 8:00 in the morning, so afterwards, we can get some breakfast. My treat.”

Going to mass would make him happy. After that scare with the phone call at his place, I at least owed him that. The cops hadn’t seen anything suspicious in their stakeout, but the sooner the killer was caught, the happier and more relieved I’d be.

“Sure, Dad. That sounds nice.”

Right after we hung up, a shiver went down my spine, and I recalled one of my uncles telling me it meant someone had just walked on my grave. That reminded me of my meeting later today with Corrigan. Definitely a grave one. I wrinkled my nose at my own bad joke.

Not having heard from Ed yet, I called him on my way to Three Birds Restaurant. Ed’s voice mail picked up. A recording of a man who sounded straight out of an old police procedural show spoke. “Put your hands up. You don’t have the right to be silent. Leave your name and a message. If you’re innocent I’ll call you back.” I laughed out loud and left him a message to call me.

I got to the restaurant a couple minutes before the designated time, but Corrigan tapped his foot like he’d been waiting hours for me. He actually pulled out my chair for me. I hadn’t seen manners like that since my mother signed me up for Holy Trinity’s etiquette class.

“Hello, Claire.” Corrigan sat down after me, which banished my fear he’d loom over me like a banshee in a bad dream. “Would you like something to drink?”

My mouth was parched, probably from nerves. “Something cold and diet sounds good.”

After the waitress took our order, we sat without saying anything. He inspected one of the sugar packets like he’d never seen one, while I glanced around debating whether or not to ask why he wanted me there. He finally broke the silence. “Was your aunt successful with her matchmaking?”

I almost dropped my napkin. Of all the things I’d expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them. “Sort of. Well…” I scratched my head and wondered how to tell him almost nothing but make it sound like revealing. “My aunt’s biggest hope is for me to be a Josie.”

He stopped fiddling with the sugar. “A Josie?”

I grinned. “Yeah, Josie’s my aunt’s niece, almost like her daughter. Finished high school and got married. One kid, with another on the way. Still madly in love with her husband and vice versa.”

He smiled, almost wistfully. “Not a bad life.”

I shrugged. “But it’s not for everyone.”

He rubbed his chin. “No, it isn’t. I guess a career fulfills some women.”

“Maybe she can have both.” Were we were talking about Josie or me?

“A guy would be lucky to find a woman like that.”

I pursed my lips. “So, Detective Corrigan, you’re looking for a woman who’ll bring home a paycheck, raise the kids, and manage to keep the house neat. I suppose you also want her to be a babe.”

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Call me Brian. And don’t get all worked up. I don’t want Super Woman. Just a partner in love and marriage.” The corners of his lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Of course her being hot wouldn’t hurt things.”

Our beverages arrived and the conversation stopped for a moment. He took a sip of his coffee and added the contents of the worn packet he’d messed with. “As enjoyable as your company is, I wanted to see you for a different reason.”

I took a long sip. “Not interested in my charming ways, huh?” From years of experience in parochial school, I knew when a lecture was coming.

“You’re not going to like it, but here it is. I asked you to drop Mr. Adler’s case. Now I’m telling you. Stay out of Ms. Tompka’s—Mallorie’s— murder investigation. You’re way too involved and you’re interfering with police work.”

Of course, he hadn’t just wanted to talk about women’s roles. I kept my voice low and even. “I have to be involved. Remember? Mallorie died at my door. And don’t forget, someone’s threatened me and called my father’s house. I’m going to keep on—” I bit my hyperactive tongue.

It looked like a small explosion had occurred in Corrigan’s eyes. “Keep on what?” Before I could answer he went on. “Keep on the case? When are you going to stop?” He huffed, “When you get the next call? Or will you wait until you get murdered too?”

My natural reaction to any conflict is to sink back and make myself small, but I thought of Michael and my father and sat tall. Sarcasm weaved itself through my next words. “My apology for not going along with what you think is best, but a lot has happened to me and people I care about.” I arched my eyebrow. “By the way, you never told me if you had any clues as to who’s making those calls to me.”

He folded his arms and rested them on the table. “Like I said on the message. They came from disposable phones. Made one call and tossed it. No clues.” He leaned in so close we were in danger of bumping noses. “You know, not telling me everything means we could miss something important. Something that could help us solve this case.”

He sat back and made his hands into fists, then flexed them open. “And I can’t keep you safe if you continue running around with suspects or their accomplices, like Workosky. Understand?”

I gripped the sides of my chair. “How did you know about Workosky? You followed me, didn’t you? Oh, never mind. What do you expect me to do? Sit back patiently and hope the police catch the murderer before he makes me victim number three?”

He hissed. “Yes. I don’t want you hurt. In fact I hope you’ll be around a long, long time.” Each of his next words was distinctly enunciated. “But not on this case.”

I rubbed my forehead, tired of putting up a brave face. No words could describe my terror of whoever was behind those calls, but the police weren’t any further ahead at catching this guy than me. No doubt he might kill me, but if I could get to the murderer before he got to me, I could stop freezing up every time my phone rang. And what did Corrigan mean, hoping I’d be around? Around where? Him? It didn’t make any sense. Rather than ask for details though, I just stared down at the table.

“Besides, what would you do if you caught the killer?”

Trying to think of a reasonable answer, I played with my straw. “Hand him over to you?”

He sat back with a satisfied smirk. “Good answer. Then why don’t we just remove you, the middleman, and let the police catch him themselves?”

“What if you don’t? I’m sure other cases will take precedence.”

He slammed his hand down on the table. “I swear to you, we will get this guy. You need to back away. For your own good.”

Thinking straight wasn’t possible. Neither was staying calm. “I can’t.” I crossed my arms like a stubborn child.

His jaw tightened. “Okay. I can’t force you to drop the case, but be aware; you could be arrested for obstructing justice. In fact, maybe you’d be safer in jail.”

Pouring my drink over his head appealed to me, but that’d solve nothing. I controlled my voice. “I’ll stay out of your way.” I stood up. “Thanks for the tea.”

He rose as well. “You’re welcome. And, except for me, don’t trust anyone. Including your client.”

I froze. “You can’t mean Michael? Have you been at this so long you can’t recognize the good guys?”

He harrumphed. “I’ve been at this long enough to know anyone can be a bad guy. Including Michael Adler.”

We left the restaurant at the same time, in the same mood. Angry and frustrated. But at least I anticipated a tasty meal. It was petty, but I hoped Corrigan’s dinner would be a cold, two-day-old pizza in front of his television. Watching reruns of
Law and Order
.

Outside the restaurant, I drummed on my steering wheel and struggled to calm down. It was clear Corrigan was just doing his job and he didn’t want any help. But if he thought even Michael could be a suspect, well then, he was way off. I brushed the memory of that business card away. It’d been on Constance’s desk. The card belonged to her and that was that.

Before any niggling thoughts could enter my mind, I checked my phone. Ed hadn’t called back. I tried him again, but didn’t get any answer. My stomach tied itself up, like it knew something I didn’t.

Except for his cell phone number and day job, I didn’t know much about Ed, like where he lived, who his friends were, if he had any family. My brows knit and I debated going to The Grape to see if he was there when my phone jingled.

Praise heaven, it was Ed. He sounded like he’d bet everything on the winning racehorse. “Valet was a dead end. Found something a lot better though. On my way to check it out.”

My heart fluttered with excitement and fear of the case getting away from me. “Where are you? I’ll meet you there.”

“No can do. Meet you at your office at…8:00 p.m.”

Eight. The same time I was supposed to be at Michael’s, but this could be way more important. Maybe dinner could be postponed. Only one way to know.

Michael picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Claire.”

“Michael, something’s come up. We, rather I, might have an important breakthrough in Constance’s case.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “What?”

“I’m really sorry, but, um, they’re meeting me at my office this evening.” I cringed, picturing his disappointment.

He didn’t say anything but I felt as if I’d eaten lamb chops at a PETA meeting. “Can you hold off dinner until tomorrow night?”

“Sure. But aren’t you giving up the case?” I could hear his impatience rising. “We’d agreed. Didn’t we?”

“Um, we didn’t actually come to an agreement…” I hedged. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow at dinner. Okay?”

“What will it take to persuade you?”