Swept Up (5 page)

Now, I was going to talk to people as myself…with Cal.  There was no anonymity.  Everyone knew me, and everyone I was going to interview would know exactly why I was there.  And someone I was going to talk to—someone I’d met, and potentially liked—was going to be the murderer.  They’d have every reason to lie to me.

So maybe the trick was going to be talking to everyone, taking detailed notes and then figuring out whose story was different.  I thought of all the cop shows I loved to watch.  I thought about books from Trixie Belden to Nancy Drew.

In cop shows, suspects generally said too much.  They didn’t wait for a lawyer.  Instead, they thought they could lie their way out of the charges.

Lies.

Lies always caught up with people.  Liars goofed up and forgot part of their lie, or made the lie so elaborate it stuck out in the sea of generalities.

Cal came up behind me, leaned over the back of the chair and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.  “I can hear you thinking,” he murmured by my ear.

I turned and looked at my fiancé. “Are you really going to help me?”

He nodded, then leaned down and took my hand in his.  “I love how this looks on your finger.”

“I love how your hand looks on my hand.”

Yeah, we were very, very sappy.  Almost embarrassingly so.  But I didn’t plan on mentioning it to anyone.  He sat down and we went all new-fiancé-mushy for a few more minutes. 

Finally, demushed, Cal asked, “So what were you thinking about when I came in?”

“I was thinking that my advantage this time is I don’t have to be a cop.  I don’t have go by the book…I don’t even have to acknowledge that there’s a book.  I’ve completely eliminated most of Detective Charlie’s suspect list.  People I’m absolutely positive aren’t capable or have
no motive to kill Mellie.”  I waited for him to tell me that’s not how it was done.

“The cop part of me says that anyone is capable of murder, given the right circumstances.  That’s why when someone dies, we look to their spouse, or the people close to them for both the murderer and for the motive.”

I started to protest, but Cal held up a hand.  “If someone hurt your boys?”

I had to acknowledge he was right.  “Fine.  You’ve got a point, but—”

He interrupted.  “Despite the fact I have a point, I’m with you.  I think our friends and family can be moved off our suspect list, or at least moved way to the bottom.  Mellie was an obnoxious woman.  No one liked her.  But not liking someone isn’t enough of a motive for murder.  I’m sure it wasn’t your family or Tiny or Peri, Jerome….”  He started naming all our friends and family and basically eliminated everyone I’d already eliminated.

The fact his list of non-suspects matched mine so perfectly made me all weak in the knees.  “If we didn’t have a murderer to find, I’d take you to bed right now and share my hidden stash of Poptarts with you.”

“The boys moved out, so why do you hide them?”

I gave him a look, and he threw up his hands and shot me an award-winning innocent look.  “Hey, I wouldn’t stoop so low as to steal your Poptarts.”

“Oh, yeah?  Who got into the Pringles by lifting the paper seal, taking most of the stack, and then putting the paper and then plastic lid back in place?  Like you said, the boys are in their college dorms, so they can be ruled out as suspects.”

“I—” he started.

“When I went to get the Pringles the only thing left in the container was crumbs.”

He laughed.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I harrumphed him.

“Why don’t we both take half of the didn’t-do-it list and start making calls.  Let’s see what they remember.  What they saw.  General for most of the night, and as specifically as possible for the time between when Mellie arrived and when she died.”

I nodded.  “Okay.”

We both went to work and only slowed down when Peri and Jerome came down and left to go out for dinner.

“We won’t be home till late,” Peri said.  “I thought you and Cal would be busy with the case.”

And we were.

As we worked our way through the lists, I learned something about investigations that I hadn’t learned my first three times round…grunt work is boring.

I soon fell into a pattern of questions.

Did anything at the party stand out for you?

Did you see Mellie come into the party?

Did you see her talking to anyone?

Did you talk to her?
  If so, what did she say?

Did you see her go upstairs?

Did you see anyone else go upstairs?

Did you hear or see anything unusual?

I used a different variation of the first question at the end of the interview thinking that as they talked maybe it would remind them of something else…something that could be important.

The questions varied slightly and their order varied, but that was the gist of it.

I asked myself those same questions.

Did anything stand out for me?

Yes.  The fact that so many friends and family showed up for me.  My family and Lottie came all the way from Erie.  The boys came from their college campuses. 

Did I see Mellie come into the party?

No.  The first time I noticed her she was talking to Jonas Miller.  He’d played Cal in the movie.  Sean, the director, was thrilled when Jonas signed on.  Jonas had made quite a name for himself in blockbuster movies playing villains.  This was a made for TV movie, not even a network movie, so having him in a lead role was huge.  Don’t get me wrong, I love The HeartMark Channel.  But this wasn’t a move up for Jonas.  It wasn’t even a lateral move.  It was a move down.

I’d asked him why he took the role.  He’d been sweet when he said, “It was a hell of a script, and this was the first time someone offered to let me play a hero.  I’d like to know how that feels.”

I liked Jonas.  I didn’t know him well enough to cross him off my suspect list, but I liked him enough to want it not to be him.

Did I see or hear anything unusual?

I’d seen Peri and she’d told me she asked Cal to ask Mellie to leave.  I’d been pleased because I didn’t want Mellie at the party—a party for my friends and family.

Cal
had admitted he might have been one of the last people to see Mellie alive.

“How’re the interviews, Quince?” he asked from the doorway.

“Do you think we can find another white-board?  I want to put together as much of a timeline as I can.  I thought about a spreadsheet, but I think a white-board timeline would be more effective.”

“Sure.  I’ll go get it, then we’ll enter info and brainstorm.”

Cal ran to the store to buy another white-board and Dick dropped in. 

My writing mentor had become a very good friend.  He hugged me close.  “Quincy, I’m so sorry something like this ruined your big night.”

I hugged him back.  “Thanks.”

“I feel guilty,” he said as he took a seat in my kitchen.

He looked guilty.  As if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.  “Why would you feel guilty, Dick?” I asked as I sat down next to him.

“Because I’ve had calls all day.  No one wants to bother you, so they all went through me and Deanne.  They want to know if you’re looking into who killed Mellie.  I told them all exactly where they could put that question.  Mellie Adams was an awful woman.  I only met her twice, but everyone in town knows how awful she was on set.  But it seems macabre to be so excited about capitalizing on the woman’s murder.”

“I know.  That’s how I feel, too.”

He reached across the counter and patted my hand.  “Just walk away from this one, Quince.  You’re a talented writer, a great mom, and a wonderful business owner.  You don’t have to have amateur detective on your list of accomplishments.  The other two times were flukes.  And don’t you worry.  Deanne’s telling everyone to leave you alone and not hound you.  And I’m…well, I wanted to stop in and see if you need anything.”

I took his hand and led him into the living room.  “Tell me what you remember.”

He sighed.  “You’re not going to stop.”  It was a statement, not a question.

I shook my head.

He said, “Well, another reason it took me this long to come over is I was drunk last night.  I fell asleep in on the couch in Jerome’s study.  I don’t remember much after that, except….”

“Except?” I prompted.

“I’d gone to the bar but realized I couldn’t handle another drink, so I went into the study to try and clear my head.  The den was right next to where Peri had them set up the bar, so it was easy to get there and collapse.  I had this really strange dream.  Lady Gaga was dancing with Pink.  Lady Gaga said, “
I know what you did.  You can have anyone that you want, just not him.  Leave him alone.  I won’t tell you again.
”

“Lady Gaga and Pink?” I laughed.

“Yes, then Pink said,
You’re a fool
and stormed away.”  He paused a moment and said, “They both had very deep voices.”

I laughed.  “I’m glad you put that drink down.”

“Me, too.  I canceled my meeting and went home and crashed.  My head’s killing me now, and I can’t imagine how I’d be feeling if I’d kept drinking.”

“So do you remember anything else?”

Dick shook his head.  “The next thing I remember is Cilla shaking me awake and telling me that the cops where there and no one had seen you or Cal.  I was afraid.…”

He hugged me.  “I’m just glad you’re okay.  And I came here to tell you to stay out of this.  I know, I was excited when you investigated the art heist, but Quincy, there’s a murderer on the loose, and I don’t want you messing with it.”

“But Dick, how can I not?  Everyone I love was at that party.  That means, everyone I love is a suspect in the cops’ eyes.  Even you.”

For a moment he was surprised, as if the thought he was a suspect hadn’t occurred to him.  Then he said in a very shaky voice, “You’re my friend, Quincy.  I don’t want to have anything happen to you.”

“And I don’t want anything to happen to you or any of my other friends, so—”

“I’ll tell Cal,” he threatened.  “If you won’t listen to reason, I’ll tell your future-fiancé and he’ll.…”

I waved my ring finger at him.  “There’s no almost anymore and you don’t have to tell Cal—”

The door opened and Cal came in.  I could see the giant white-board on the walkway.  “Want to give me a hand.”

“Wait, you’re buying her a new white-board?” Dick asked.

“He’s taking time off from work and helping me.  The detective on the case knows I’m asking questions.  It’s all good,” I told my friend.  “Grab the door, will you?”

I went down and hefted the white-board with my fiancé, and we carried it into the living room and sat it by my original one.

“You two have been busy,” Dick said as he wandered over to the board and studied it.  He turned around and looked at Cal.  “You keep her safe.  She’s an award-winning writer, with a wonderful career in front of her.  She’s also one of my dearest friends.  Don’t let whoever the murderer is get near her.”

“I won’t,” Cal said solemnly.

I cleared my throat.  “Let’s not forget who saved who when I investigated Mr. Banning’s murder.”

They both ignored me, and Dick shook his head.  “It’s going to be hard work keeping her safe.  She doesn’t have any common sense.”

“Tell me about it,” Cal said.  “Keeping my fiancée safe is going to be a full-time job, I suspect.”

“I’m standing right here,” I yelled, waving my hands.  “And I have plenty of common sense.”

They both laughed, and Cal casually wrapped his arm around me as the three of us studied the board.

That night, Big G brought us pasta and
a bottle of wine.  He noticed my ring right off and hugged us both.  Of course, when he hugged Cal, there was a lot of manly backslapping going on as well.

The three of us sat staring at the two white-boards that now occupied the wall of the house.  “Where were you at the party when Mellie came in?” I asked him as I slurped some killer marinara.

Thinking the phrase
killer marinara
made me a bit queasy, and I set down my fork.

Big G didn’t seem to notice.  “I was talking to Honey when Mellie came in.  She started to hum the theme of
Jaws
.”  He smiled, then he must realized he’d just told us that Honey didn’t like Mellie and worried what we’d think because he said, “No, that’s not what I meant I—”

I took his head.  “G, it’s okay.  No one liked Mellie.  Not liking someone doesn’t mean you go out and murder them.  I didn’t like her, but I didn’t kill her.  And I certainly don’t think Honey did.  It’s fine.  Tell me what you remember.  Maybe you saw something.”

He shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  Honey hummed
Jaws
and then noticed that the line for drinks was getting long, so she went to pitch in at the bar, and I went to help out, too.”

“She was a guest, not hired to tend bar,” I grumbled.