“Becca, is that you?”
“In here, Granddad.” I stopped scribbling notes about the murder and flipped the pad of paper over so he couldn’t read what I’d written.
“I didn’t hear your car come up the drive.”
“It’s in the shop. It wouldn’t start.”
“How’d you get home?” He peered out into the night checking to make sure my car wasn’t parked in the drive. He was one of these men who had to verify everything.
I lowered my gaze not wanting to hear one of the oldies but goldies - Lecture 113, The Car Is Not a Wind-Up Toy, which consisted of Granddad’s special rules for proper care and maintenance for cars. Keep them running. Keep them looking sharp. To appear busy, I fiddled with straightening a bunch of magazines on the coffee table that were already straight, thanks to Granddad’s anal-retentive cleaning style.
I felt his eyes burning holes into my scalp. I didn’t want to explain about Max. Okay, what I really didn’t want to explain was that Max was Russian. Granddad would have a fit since in his mind we were still engaged in a cold war with them. I finally mumbled, “A friend dropped me off. I tried to reach you, but no luck.”
“Tonight was bingo at church.”
He picked up Higgins who had followed him into the room. “How’s Daddy’s boy?” Higgins responded by licking my granddad’s hand and purring obnoxiously loud. The cat and I glared at each other.
“I stopped by to see Edna tonight.” I’d found safer territory, and could meet his gaze, not that he’d taken his eyes off the darn cat.
“How’s she holding up?
She was the topic of discussion at church. Everyone is concerned.”
“She’s as good as can be expected.” I got up from my comfy spot on the sofa, and Granddad set Higgins gently down on the floor.
The cat slithered to take my warm place on the couch. “She swears she didn’t do it.”
“’Course not. Edna’s a lady. Why she’d no more harm someone than I would.”
“Granddad, you’re one of the kindest men I know, but do I have to remind you that you were career military? Even though most of the time you look like you wouldn’t hurt a fly, I’m guessing you have a few bodies to your name – for our country’s sake.”
He pointed his finger at me. “There’s a reason military personnel don’t talk about what they did.”
“Don’t go getting all riled up. I’m just saying…” I let my voice trail off.
“And I’m just saying, too.”
I hugged him. “I don’t think Edna killed her husband either. Any more than you could have.”
“Good. Glad we got that settled.” Granddad embraced me briefly, kissed the top of my head and added, “So if she didn’t kill O’Malley, why is she still in jail?”
“The authorities have some damaging evidence that allows them to hold her. At least for now.”
“What kind of evidence?”
Granddad moved toward the kitchen and the cat and I followed.
“Well, according to Edna she went to the office the morning Robert was killed and they argued. Someone saw her in the building and told the police about it. And then there’s a matter of her fingerprints on my desk.”
Granddad rubbed his chin with his hand. “On the surface, it doesn’t sound good. But I’m sure Edna has a reasonable explanation for it.”
I nodded. “She swears Robert was alive and well when she left.”
“Can anybody vouch for that?” Granddad poured some milk into a pan and put it on the stove to heat.
“Afraid not. Dr. Dick was in his office with music playing. He never heard them. Or saw Edna.”
Granddad stirred the milk with a wooden spoon. “That’s too bad. There must be something we can do to help her.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. I’ve jotted down a list of people who might have wanted Robert O’Malley dead,” I mentioned before I remembered my intention to leave Granddad out of the investigation. Me and my big mouth.
Granddad considered me for a moment. “Becca, I know your heart is in the right place, but don’t go searching for trouble. Trouble seems to find you easily enough without you lending a helping hand.”
What did he mean by that crack?
I whipped a crumpled scrap of paper out of my slacks. As long as I’d already spilled the beans, I might as well tell him the rest. Granddad was a smart man. Logical.
Not to mention a great sounding board.
“Just check out this list. At the top, and my personal favorite for the murder, is Tony Rizzo. He’s a patient at D & P.” My hand flew up to my mouth. I wasn’t supposed to ever divulge who our clients were, not even to my own family. “Sorry, you aren’t supposed to know that.”
“It’s not like I’m going to share it with anyone. You know I’m terrible with names.” This was true. Feeling a tad relieved, I continued.
“He’s Anna Blake’s ex-boyfriend. You remember Anna. She made that horrible scene at Edna’s after the funeral.” Granddad nodded and removed the pan of warm milk from the burner and pulled a mug out of the cupboard.
“So, you’re thinking this was a crime of passion?” Granddad poured the thick, scummy looking liquid into his mug and began to sip. He knew better than to ask me if I wanted any.
“Maybe. But there are some other possibilities. Staying with the crime of passion theme, there’s Anna Blake.” Granddad arched his eyebrow at me. “Yes, she appeared very upset over Robert’s death. I’ve talked to her a couple of times since then. Her loss seems genuine. However, I found out Robert claimed he’d leave Edna for her.” Granddad’s eyebrow quirked even higher. “I know, I don’t think he really would have, not based on what I’ve learned about their relationship. But you just never know where hormones are concerned.”
Granddad smiled. “You’re catching on, Becca. Hormones have caused some rational people to make the mistakes of their lives.” He continued to sip the warm milk.
I thought of Max Chernov and the way he had kissed my cheek when he brought me home. Hormones. Max could definitely stir up mine.
“You were saying,” Granddad prompted.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “It’s possible that Anna Blake found out that Robert wasn’t going to leave Edna. And Anna may have thought she would always be just his mistress. In the heat of anger, she could have plunged the letter opener into him.”
“Possible. Who else is on your list of suspects?”
I didn’t want to admit that while I’d been sitting on the couch I had reached a horrible conclusion, but I had to bring it out into the light. “Dr. Daley.”
“Your employer?” Granddad almost spilled his milk.
“Afraid so. He knew Robert and Edna’s problems almost as well as they did. Edna’s family admitted that Dr. Dick had been in love with Edna once. He’s never married. Maybe she’s the reason. Maybe he’s been in love with her all of these years. Maybe he couldn’t stand to see her hurt and embarrassed by that creep of a husband of hers. Maybe he decided to kill the competition.”
“And let Edna take the blame?”
“No.” I shook my head vigorously. “He didn’t know Edna had been in the office that morning. He kills Robert. And Edna, the woman he’s trying to protect, is arrested for the murder. Don’t you see the irony of it?”
Granddad peered over the top of his reading glasses. “It’s a nice theory, honey, but isn’t there something about ‘first, do no harm’ in that oath a doctor takes?”
“Oh, and you think all of them abide by that? C’mon, Granddad. Who’s being naïve now?” I paced the kitchen. Could I actually work for a murderer? Dr. Dick could have come up with the perfect crime. Kill a patient in your office with your own letter opener. No one would be stupid enough to do that. It was so simple it was brilliant.
“Okay, although I think you’re totally off base, let’s leave Dr. Daley on your suspect list for now. That’s three possibilities other than Edna. Have you mentioned this to the police?”
“No, of course not,” I replied.
Granddad set his mug down and stared at me. “What I mean is that I pulled all of this together tonight, while I had some time to sit and think it all through. But there is something else. I’ll tell you, but you’ve got to promise me you won’t tell anyone. It’s confidential information.”
Granddad gestured for me to continue. Not quite a promise, but close enough.
“Robert O’Malley was addicted to gambling, and he owed the mob money.”
Granddad burst out laughing, then choked on his mouthful of warm milk.
“It’s not funny.” I patted his back with quick, sharp slaps with the palm of my hand.
“Stop! You didn’t need to beat it out of me.” He steadied himself on the kitchen table while he got his second wind.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. Try to help a person and all you get is grief.
But maybe I had hit him a bit too hard in my zeal to do good.
“It’s okay. When I swim down at the Tuckahoe YMCA, and people ask about the bruises on my back, I’ll educate them about eldercare abuse.”
“Very funny, Granddad. You are the least abused person I know. Next time I’ll let you choke.” I raised my left eyebrow at him – a taste of his own medicine. I could tell by his expression he didn’t like it one bit.
“I hate to disillusion you, but there is no mob in town,” he informed me.
“I thought the same thing. Turns out we’re wrong. There’s a Russian mafia right here in Richmond, Virginia, the capital of the South. Can you believe it?”
“No.” He meandered back to the living room with me hot on his heels.
“Well, it’s true. I have it on very good authority. And I’m trying to get a meeting set up between me and one of the leaders of this mafia.”
Granddad stopped so quickly, I plowed into him. “You’re doing what?” he bellowed, turning to face me.
I stepped back from him and didn’t answer.
“Rebecca May Reynolds.”
There he went, changing my middle name again. May was a new one. I’d have to try to remember to ask him who she was.
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t you have the common sense the Lord gave a gnat?” He stared me down until I surveyed my shoes. “I guess not. You cannot seriously be thinking of doing something so foolish, so dangerous.” Now it was Granddad who paced the floor.
“Why are you getting so upset? You just said you didn’t believe the mafia existed. At least not here in River City.”
He stopped and pointed his finger in my face. His cheeks were flushed with anger and concern. “I forbid you to do anything involving organized crime.”
I blinked once. He forbade me? “Granddad, you can’t treat me like a child.”
“The heck I can’t. I’m not saying I believe there is a mob, but just in case, you, young lady, are not meeting them or getting involved with them in any way, shape or form. Do I make myself clear?”
I knew better than to continue to argue with him. His face had turned an unhealthy shade of red, and I could only guess how high his blood pressure must be. I’d agree with him for now and simply do what I was going to do anyway. He just didn’t have to know about it.
“Yes, Granddad. You’re clear.”
He shook his head up and down once for emphasis. “Good. Glad to hear it.”
He picked up Higgins and sat on the sofa in silence for several minutes rubbing the purring animal, trying to settle his temper and restore his inner calm. “I mean it, Rebecca Christina. Stay away from the mob. In fact, stay away from all Russians. They’re not to be trusted.”
Great. Granddad was reverting to a cold war mentality. “Don’t you remember our president saying ‘tear down that wall, Mr. Gorbachev’?”
“Don’t go making fun of one of the greatest presidents of the twentieth century, Becca. That man was beloved by millions of people.”
Granddad went on for several minutes extolling the virtues of Ronald Reagan (or Lecture 1981-89 as I’d dubbed it) and all that he’d done for the country, the economy, global peace, etc.
I’d heard it a ton of times before. It was one of his favorite topics. And one that I could count on to restore his inner calm despite his argumentative tone.
Meanwhile, I gave some thought not only to the Russian mafia in general but to one Russian in particular.
I had to find a way to convince Max to help me. He’d come tonight when I’d called him for help. Maybe I could somehow persuade him to set up a meeting with one of his countrymen.
One who operated outside of the law.