Plateful of Murder (17 page)

When he opened the door, wonderful cooking aromas wafted around him. “Hi Claire. Come in.”

“Hi Michael. M-m-m, it smells so good in here.” I commanded my salivary glands to behave so I wouldn’t drool.

He smiled. “Hope you’ll like it. Some wine?”

I returned his smile. “With that aroma, how could I not? And wine would be nice.”

He left the room to pour our drinks, and I glanced around the living room, absently wondering if he had
West Side Story’s
soundtrack. My head throbbed. So what if he did have the soundtrack? Probably thousands of people do, including my father.

“Headache?” Michael returned with two glasses and handed one to me.

“Oh, no. Just…” Better to change the subject. “How about a toast?”

“Okay. To what?”

To finding the killer?
“To a wonderful meal and a gracious host.” We raised our glasses.

Dinner was a flurry of mouthwatering food and witty conversation. All of it on Michael’s part. Instead of relaxing me and allowing my charm to dazzle, the wine made me slightly nauseated. I knew there was cause for concern when even a chocolate crème brulee didn’t send me into nirvana. My mind kept going back to the phone calls.

As soon as etiquette allowed, I excused myself to check my messages. No Corrigan.
Now who was being elusive, damn him.
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I headed to the kitchen and counted my blessings that Michael hadn’t brought the case up during dinner. Just a matter of time though before the subject came up. Sure enough, a short time after entering the kitchen, I felt like the turkey who was invited for Thanksgiving dinner.

“Michael, that was such a fantastic meal, the least I can do is help you clean up.” My hope was he wouldn’t bring up my resigning from the case until much later, if at all.

He half-smiled and handed me a towel. “No argument from me.” If only he wouldn’t argue with me about anything tonight. My current fragile composure might not have withstood any sort of challenge.

Maybe he sensed that because we worked in companionable silence until everything was cleaned and stored. Without asking, Michael then poured both of us more wine. “You’ve been so tense. Let’s sit down and you can tell me what you learned.”

The moment of half-truths had come. No more stalling on this discussion. My mind created and edited what information I was willing to share as Michael guided me to the sofa.

My sin-of-omission report to Michael began with, “The last person to have been with Constance may have been John Luther, Triton’s future CEO. She was having an affair with him. Eagleton, her previous lover, and his assistant, Sean Lawrence, knew about it.”

Michael sat on the edge of his seat. “Go on.”

“Eagleton and Sean Lawrence met with someone from another drug company, a pharmacist named George Workosky, the evening Mallorie was killed.”

“Isn’t there more? Didn’t you tell me someone was bringing you evidence?”

The best way to handle this was with complete dishonesty. “I thought so too. But they never showed up.”

Michael’s eyes became slits and he folded his arms across his chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”

My hand flew to my breast like his question shocked me when, in reality, I would have been surprised if he hadn’t asked it. My charade continued. “Michael, how could you think I’m withholding information? You’re my client.”

He took my hand into his two warm ones. “Sorry. I’m just anxious to get whoever killed Constance. This must be confusing you. One minute I ask you to drop the case; the next I’m asking for information.”

“It’s okay.” My phone vibrated. As much as I wanted to answer it, doing so might mean Michael would learn about my latest threatening call or about Ed. I withdrew my hand and patted his. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to, well, you know.” I sprinted to the bathroom as if in competition with five other women for a restroom single-seater.

I closed the bathroom door behind me and checked my phone. One missed call. I called Corrigan back.

“Corrigan here. What’s up?”

With my back to the door, I cupped my hand over the phone and whispered, “The tunes are from
West Side Story
. I tried to get a list of who’d seen it at the Playhouse, but they wouldn’t give it to me.”

“
West Side Story
? Like, ‘When you’re a Jet— ”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Not sure I follow you. What does the Playhouse have to do with it?”

“The play was there last month. Maybe the tunes stuck in the killer’s head.” Now that my theory was out in the open, the intelligence of my assumption seemed doubtful. But he surprised me.

“A long shot, but one worth checking out.”

“Count me in on it since it was my idea.” I felt like the kid no one likes, but they play with him because he owns the ball.

Corrigan heaved a loud, annoyed sigh. “Tell you what. I’ll let you know if I need you.”

“But—” He’d disconnected. “What a weasel.”

Although unprepared to discuss dropping the case with Michael, I couldn’t very well crawl out the bathroom window to avoid it. How wonderful it would be if he realized his thinking was erroneous and begged me to keep digging. But this was Cleveland, not Fantasyland. Like a soldier going into a skirmish, I stood straight, threw my shoulders back and marched out the door.

Michael waited for me in the living room. “Since you haven’t gotten any further on it, do you agree now to drop the case?”

I pretended to have something in my left eye and blinked furiously, even pulling on my eyelid to give me some time. But with my limited acting ability and fear of actually injuring my eye, I stopped stalling. “Do you really, really believe the police can find the murderer, Michael?”

“My faith in them isn’t the point here. They haven’t been getting threatening calls. The simple truth is my feelings for you have grown and keeping you out of harm’s way is now a high priority for me.” He paused. “I have a blank check for you. Just tell me what my balance is.”

The words came to me all of a sudden, and they managed to follow one of Gino’s rules. “Only tell the client what you want him to know.”

“If you really want me to back off the case, then so be it. Keep your check, though.” My hand rose to block his protest. “Let me finish. Once the police arrest Constance’s murderer, you can pay me. I just couldn’t take the money before then. Besides, you’ve already covered my expenses with your initial payment.”

Dropping the case wasn’t really an option. Now that the killer had touched my family, my only option was see this to the end. A PI can’t function if she’s scared to distraction that her father and aunt could come to some harm. My intentions were good. Keep everyone important to me as safe and worry-free as possible.

Backing off, therefore, could mean a number of things, including proceeding with more caution. That was my interpretation in this instance.

I forced myself to return his gaze and not to twitch, and in return, he stopped staring at me.

“All right, Claire. We have a deal. By the way, Detective Corrigan wants to see me.”

“Maybe he has some information.” Skirting an argument tired me out so much my bones ached. “Michael, it’s bad form to eat and run, but I’m exhausted. The evening’s young, but right now I don’t feel like I am. Mind if I head home?”

“Of course not. You’ve been working so hard. Before you go though, let me give you a massage. It’ll relax you.”

Ordinarily, I’d give my lifetime membership to Dates4U for a great massage. But right now it wouldn’t pay to get relaxed and do something I’d regret later on. So, with much reluctance I declined.

He walked me to the door and placed his arms around my waist, pulling me in to him. “Next time, please stay.”

His request was sweet, but it didn’t do anything for me. Probably just too wrung out. Still, I responded with a weak smile.

Lost in thought and yawning, I pulled out of the driveway, blind to the parked car and the driver inside it, watching me.

A
bout five hundred feet from Michael’s driveway, Corrigan sat in his car, window down. He waved for me to pull up next to him. I cursed under my breath then worried he’d figured out what I’d just muttered about his heritage.

Taking to heart the saying about the best defense, I rolled my window down. “Why are you following me?”

Instead of responding to my question, he leaned over, opened the passenger’s side door for me and growled, “Get in.”

He must have observed Michael and me in a less-than-professional stance. Panic spread through my brain and sped up my heart. In all probability, my face took on the expression of someone who’d bitten into an apple and seen half a worm. My fingers felt fat and clumsy as I turned off the ignition and opened my door. The light from a streetlamp brightened the interior a bit, but it was still night.

Corrigan didn’t even look at me when I slid into his car. Not that it would’ve mattered. God knows why, but he had on sunglasses, making it impossible to read his eyes. “Tailing you wasn’t my intention. I wanted to see Adler, but saw a whole lot more.” He gritted his teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me this case had gotten more personal?”

“Wasn’t your business.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. If it affects the case, it’s my business.” He raised his shades and his eyes flashed. “You don’t listen. Anyone could be the killer.”

“So, be suspicious of everyone?” I smiled sweetly. “That would mean I shouldn’t even trust you.”
Could I get jail time for mouthing off to a cop?

“That’s not what I meant and don’t try to skate out of this.” The muscles in his jaw tensed. “No detective, private or police should get involved with…” His voice trailed off and he blinked. “That is, don’t get your feelings tangled…” He glanced away and in a gruff voice concluded, “Don’t go liking Adler too much.”

“He’s a great guy.” Crossing my arms, I asked, “Now, why were you following me?”

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Once again, this visit was to see Adler. But after what I’ve observed, it might be smart to follow you. Make sure you don’t get into trouble.”

“And I should be grateful for that?”

By way of an answer, he let out a soft snort. “By the way, I checked on who saw
West Side Story
.” He wore a satisfied grin. “Eagleton and his wife.”

My eyebrows rose and my mouth formed an ‘O’. “Best news I’ve had in a while.”

“It may be something, maybe not. We’ll just have to see.”

His lack of enthusiasm, real or feigned, frustrated me. “It’s more than you had. Can’t you at least bring him in for more questioning?”

“Are you trying to tell me how to run this investigation?” By the measured tone of his question, I must have treaded on his ego.

“No, of course not. Only…” My voice rose until it disappeared and I scooted just a bit closer to the door.

“I know. We both want this case solved, but getting ahead of ourselves won’t help.”

“You’re including me?” Had I finally gotten through to him?

He grumbled, “A slip of the tongue. Don’t think I’ve changed my mind about wanting you off this case.”

I chewed my upper lip for a moment, thinking. “What about putting Eagleton in an audio lineup. You know, I listen to five guys, each singing a threat.”

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t do any good. Even a rookie public defender could point out you’ve already heard Eagleton talk. He’d claim prejudice.” Corrigan cleared his throat. “Anyway, you’d be wise to keep your client as just that. A client.” His lip curled as he added, “It’s hard to keep professional prospective if your body’s draped all over him.”

Even if he was right about Michael, it wasn’t necessary for Corrigan to follow me everywhere, jutting his nose into my doings. I had Aunt Lena for that.

Holding one hand at my heart, the other hand up like a school guard’s, my voice turned solemn. “This shall serve as my pledge to use extreme caution when choosing with whom to associate.” I lowered my hands. “Now can you stop following me? Oh, that’s right. You weren’t.”

He leaned back in his seat. “That’s right. You just happened to be here, which was an added bonus.”

My heart started to do a flip “
Really?”
I almost gushed how good it was to see him too, until he smirked.

“Saved me some time. I could interview him again and keep an eye on you.”

My girlish ego shriveled. “So pleased to make your job more convenient.”

His expression softened. “Have to admit though. The best part is seeing you.”

My insides turned as mushy as the ricotta inside a cannoli. “Yeah.” Lame, but it was all I could manage to say. We sat there for a moment with me feeling as awkward as the first time I ate in public with my mouth full of braces.

He cleared his throat and murmured, “Better get on to business. Don’t want Adler to notice us talking here together.” I nodded and reached for the door handle, but he placed a firm hand on my arm. “Be careful. We don’t know who we’re dealing with.”

That comment was a great flame of passion douser. “I’m not stupid.”

His mouth curved into a smile, showing that cute dimple of his. “No, but you’re innocent.”

Next came my oh-so-snappy comeback. “That’s what you think.” Pushing open the door, I stomped back to my car, got in and floored it. It was in reverse, though. Slamming on the brakes, I didn’t dare glance over at Corrigan, imagining him laughing.

I stewed at the traffic light a block from Michael’s home, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. Corrigan had no right to be charming one minute then all business the next.

When the light turned green, my thoughts of him switched off. A more urgent issue arose: where to lay my head down and sleep. Returning to my apartment without a scout checking for any unwanted visitors didn’t appeal. My office was more a crime scene than a safe harbor. Couldn’t crash at my dad’s without the worry of bringing more danger to him. Aunt Lena was out. Too many questions.

Sucking it up, I chose the place with the least ramifications for my family and headed home. Corrigan’s suggestion I buy a gun rang in my head as something to do first thing in the morning. If I lived that long.