Uncommon Grounds (12 page)

“Okay, Laurel, thanks. Did you know that Patricia’s funeral is tomorrow?”

She did. The notice was in the CitySentinel. We said goodbye and hung up.

I mopped up the pool of drool Frank had left on the corner of the coffee table as he watched me eat my muffin. Then I went into the bathroom to run a nice hot bath. My feet and back hurt from the long hours of standing and my head hurt from the long hours of thinking. This stuff was harder than it looked.

As the tub filled, I left the bathroom to grab my pajamas. By the time I got back, Frank was lying on the towel next to the tub. I climbed over him and sank gratefully, if not gracefully, into the tub, sliding down so the water was up to my chin.

Way, with or without Rudy, was now my chief suspect. Motive? I’d have to work on that, but I was pretty sure it had to do with Way’s development projects. Way Benson was used to getting what he wanted from Rudy and the town board.

Maybe Patricia would have caused him trouble if she had been elected. Maybe Rudy was on the take. Maybe Patricia had found out about it.

That would explain her appointment with the town attorney, too. And if Patricia hadn’t been killed outright? Then maybe the killer figured a bad shock would be enough to warn her off.

I shook my head and the bathwater swish-swashed around me. Maybe this and maybe that. A call to Gene Diaz and another to Sarah to get the scoop on the real estate development dirt in town, were definitely in order for tomorrow.

But tonight, bed. Morning comes much too quickly when work starts at 6:00 a.m.

Caron apparently had gotten a second wind. By the time I arrived at 6:00, she had half the checklist complete. I put up a notice that we would be closed 9:30 a.m. to noon and got to work, too. Business was brisk, although not as brisk as it had been the day before.

Henry was in again and was practically garrulous, for Henry. He requested a half decaf, half regular cappuccino, saying he’d had trouble sleeping the night before. “I never sleep good anymore,” he grumbled.

“No? Why not?” I asked as I frothed the milk for his cappuccino. Already, I’d learned that someone’s health, especially if they were elderly, was a great conversation starter.

“Don’t know. Just know the older I get, less sleep I need. Taken to going out for a walk after the news, try to tire myself out; but even so, sometimes I don’t fall asleep until one, maybe two in the morning.”

Personally, I thought a walk in the night air at eleven might have the same effect on me. “Maybe the walk wakes you up, instead of tires you out,” I suggested.

Henry shrugged. “Most times it’s quiet and I walk down along the creek. Relaxes me. Though I can’t tonight. Thursday nights them hooligans are always down there making a racket. Barging around with flashlights, playing ‘Cowboys and Indians’ or something.”

I rang up his drink and handed him the change. “The kids around here like to play ‘Bloody Murder.’ I wonder if their parents know they’re out.”

The truth was half the kids in Brookhills weren’t as well supervised as their parents liked to think they were. Poplar Creek, which ran right behind the senior complex, was one of their favorite hangouts and, despite what I’d just told Henry, I didn’t think the teens were playing either ‘Cowboys and Indians’ or ‘Bloody Murder.’ More likely ‘Roll the Condom,’ though given the teen pregnancy and STD rates the CitySentinel had reported, maybe they weren’t playing by those rules either.

Taking his cup, Henry shuffled over to his corner, apparently socially spent.

Sarah Kingston was next in line.

“Sarah, I’m glad you stopped by,” I said. She’d saved me a phone call.

“Why?” Sarah demanded suspiciously.

“Because we want you to spend lots of money here. What did you think? Your sparkling personality?”

Sarah grinned. “That’s what I like, an honest business woman.” She glanced at the customer behind her and leaned in. “Did you hear about the ballot?”

I nodded and gestured for her to meet me at the end of the counter, leaving Caron to take care of the next person in line. “So what do you think?” I asked. “Rudy? Way? Both of them?”

“Could be, although I don’t think it’s their style. Fact is, though, Way Benson stands to make a lot of money if Rudy and the board decide to tear down Summit Lawn School.”

“Why?” If I’d been Frank, my ears would have perked up. Then again, if I were Frank, I’d be home sleeping now.

“Because, my dear, Way owns the land adjacent to the school. Whether he buys the school and develops the land, or someone else does, he’ll win. They’ll need his parcel in order to go retail there.” She raised her eyebrows, wiggled her fingers at me and exited stage right.

I wondered how much Sarah meant by a bundle. Enough to kill for? I guessed that depended on the person. Summit Lawn was on Brookhill Road, the most valuable strip of real estate around. What’s more, the road was completely developed, with the exception of the school property itself. Speculation was that the land would be worth millions.

So which of the surrounding properties did Way own? On one side was a gas station, on the other, a tavern. Either or both could be torn down and replaced with new development with no tears shed by town officials.

Caron and I took turns changing in the back room and left the store at 9:45 for Patricia’s funeral. Christ Christian’s lot was full when we got there, and we had to park three blocks away. We barely made it in by 10:00.

Standing in the back of the crowded church, the chances of finding two seats together seemed remote until we saw Bernie waving to us. We made our way down the side aisle and excused ourselves all the way to our seats just as the music changed and David and the family were escorted to the front pews.

David was pale, but composed. Courtney, a pretty blond child, walked with him, holding his hand. Sam followed alone. The three filed into the front pew and remained standing. Langdon gestured for the congregation to rise to sing the opening hymn.

The service lasted about an hour. Langdon spoke about Patricia’s faith and dedication to the church, her family and her community. Patricia’s son, Sam, managed to make it through a scripture reading before breaking down. That was followed by the song, “On Eagles’ Wings,” which always does me in even if it has become to funerals what “Proud Mary” is to wedding receptions.

As the casket was carried out, there was an undertone of sniffling accompanying the organ music. A life cut short, a mother leaving her children too soon.

And why? Someone here might know the answer. I glanced around the church as we waited in our pew to be dismissed by the ushers. Everyone seemed to be there, including law enforcement. Gary was keeping a watchful eye from his position behind David, where the receiving line—or whatever it’s called at a funeral—had formed. Pavlik was standing at the door and seemed to be looking in my direction, but at someone just beyond me.

I turned around to look, but the pew in front of us had just been dismissed and people were streaming past. Laurel and Mary came by, then Rudy. Up ahead I could see Way, and in front of him, Roger Karsten. Roger was good-looking, I supposed, in a pretty-boy way. Curly blond hair, blue eyes.

As I watched, Roger shook hands with David. David nodded woodenly, accepting Roger’s condolences, but didn’t seem to react any differently to him than to anyone else. Sam, to David’s left, was another story.

I nudged Caron. “Look, Sam won’t shake hands with Roger.” Sam looked right through Karsten, moving on to shake the hand of the next person in line. It was very well done, considering the kid was only fifteen. I have adult friends who have worked years to be able to snub someone as effectively as Sam had just done.

“So Sam knows,” Caron said softly next to me.

Startled, I glanced at Bernie. He smiled, albeit painfully, and put his arm around Caron’s shoulder. “It’s all right Maggy. Caron told me about her and Roger, and Patricia.”

“And you’re...”

He sighed and pulled Caron a little closer. “Okay, or we will be. We just need some time.” Caron was crying.

I hoped she realized what she had in Bernie. He was giving her the chance I had denied Ted. Then again, Ted hadn’t dumped his hygienist, like Caron had dumped Roger. Instead, she would be promoted to trophy wife shortly after the divorce became final. So much for parallels...

By the time we slid out of our pew, most of the crowd had moved into Fellowship Hall for coffee and cake. Langdon was next to David, who looked pale and exhausted. He thanked Langdon and assured him that he would see him on Sunday before he turned to me. I hugged him and said all the appropriate things, which, of course, never are.

We had to get back to the store, but I wanted to see who else was in Fellowship Hall. The person I was looking for was Roger Karsten, though I figured it was unlikely he would hang out to chat at his former mistress’ funeral, especially after the reception Sam had given him.

But as luck would have it, Roger was made of sterner stuff—or perhaps just totally insensitive stuff. I caught a glimpse of him just coming out of the men’s room. He straightened his tie, looked around and made a quick right out the side door. I dashed across Fellowship Hall and followed.

“Roger!” I yelled, chasing him down the sidewalk.

He kept right on walking.

I took a short cut across the church lawn, trying to cut him off and sinking up to my sensible two-inch heels in the process. “Roger,” I called again as I dodged around the church sign and caught up to him in the parking lot.

He turned abruptly and I pulled up short, a glob of lawn clinging to each shoe. Roger looked down at my shoes and then up my body until he finally reached my face.

“I want to talk to you about Patricia,” I said.

“I didn’t know Mrs. Harper very well. I just came to pay my respects.” He turned away.

I grabbed his arm and whispered, “I want to talk to you about Patricia and Caron.”

That got his attention. His mouth opened but nothing came out, so he slammed it shut. Running a hand through his curly blond locks, he must have decided to bluff. “Mrs. Harper and Mrs. Egan are—were—your partners. What would I know about them?”

I decided to play hardball with the chump, since it had worked so well with Kate. Taking a step backward, I took the volume up a couple of decibels. “That’s not the question. The question is, what do I know about them—and you...”A group of people walked past us on their way to their cars.

This time Roger grabbed my arm. Ouch. Sarah could have this hard-boiled P.I. stuff. I pulled away and rubbed my elbow. “Hey, that hurt.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed, but only for a moment. “What do you mean, about them and me?” he whispered.

“Let’s cut the crap.” I managed to keep my voice low but, I hoped, menacing. “I know you were fooling around with Patricia and Caron. Don’t bother to deny it.”

“Okay, okay.”

Hey, this wasn’t so hard after all.

Karsten rubbed at his chin, like an old man putting on Aqua Velva. He looked around. “All right. I had...a relationship with Patricia and one with Caron. But not at the same time.”

And that made it all right.

He was shaking his head. “I suppose the whole town knows about it by now. Patricia’s kid sure knows. That damn sheriff said he wouldn’t say anything unless he had to.”

I exploded. “You little shit. You’re worried about your reputation. I can’t believe you had the nerve to show up here today. For God’s sake, think of someone beside yourself. Like David, for example. Or Sam. Or Bernie Egan. Or Caron.”

“Now wait a second. I wasn’t alone in this. It takes—”

Honest to God, if he said “it takes two to tango,” I was going to smack him one. I waved my hands to cut him off. “Just tell me, was it over with Patricia before you hopped in bed with Caron?”

He nodded. “I told you that.”

Yeah, like I believed anything he said. “And it’s over with Caron?”

“Yeah, she—”

I waved him down again. “I’m not interested in the details. Who ended it, you or Patricia?” It couldn’t hurt to confirm what Sarah had told me.

But Roger surprised me. “I did. She said she couldn’t divorce David.” He lifted his shoulders. “I didn’t understand. I thought she loved me.”

Now I was confused. “You’re saying that you ended the affair? That Patricia didn’t?”

He had been looking down at the sidewalk, but now he looked up. There were tears in his eyes. “You asked me why I came here?”

I nodded.

“I came here because I loved her. I just wanted to say goodbye.” He turned and walked away.

Chapter Eleven

Okay, let’s lay this out. Roger and Patricia had an affair. Patricia wouldn’t leave her husband, so Roger broke it off. And immediately jumped in bed with Caron. But still loved Patricia.

The strange thing was, I thought Roger actually meant it. I guess he had his own personal code of ethics. Honor among sleaze. I shook my head and started back toward Uncommon Grounds.

As I crossed the sidewalk to the store, I saw Tony Bruno in his dental office window. I waved and he came out, white coat flapping. “Just back from the funeral?” he asked.

I told him I was.

“Such a shame. So young for a lady to die.” He shook his head sadly and pointed to Uncommon Grounds. “A couple of people stopped by, not too many.”

I wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad. “Do you want to come in for a cup?” I said, trying to get my keys out of my purse. “I’ll buy.”

But Tony was buttoning his white coat. “Thank you, no. This time of year, my family and I, we go up to our cabin in Door County on Friday morning and come back in time for mass on Sunday. That means Thursday is always a very busy day for me.”

I shivered in the April air. “Isn’t it awfully cool up there this early in the year?” If you picture Wisconsin as a mitten, Door County is the thumb, with Lake Michigan on the east and Green Bay—the body of water, not the city or the team— on the west.

Tony shrugged. “It’s cold—but there’s plenty of work to be done. Painting, planting, putting in the pier. We all work together and it gets done. Then in the summer, we can relax.”