The next morning I slumped at the breakfast table and drank my juice while I read the Times-Dispatch and listened to the local morning news anchor on Channel 8 describe the events leading up to Edna’s latest arrest. I glanced at the screen long enough to see a shackled Edna being led from the police cruiser into the jail. My heart broke. I heard Granddad coming down the hall and clicked off the television. No sense in getting him all riled up before he had his breakfast.
“Damn fools. Anyone in their right mind could see that woman couldn’t harm a fly.” He grabbed his favorite mug and poured decaf coffee into it.
He reached for the television remote, but I scooted it out of his way. “Becca, it’s on the radio.” He pointed to the paper I tried unsuccessfully to hide under my plate. “It’s in the paper. I know it’s on the TV. Let me hear what they’re saying.” He snatched the remote from me and clicked it on.
“It’s unclear whether additional charges for the murder of Mrs. O’Malley’s husband will be added to the current charges. Sources close to the investigation say there is clear evidence that links Mrs. O’Malley to the death of her husband’s mistress, Anna Maria Blake. A crime of passion or a well-thought-out plot for revenge? It’s unclear at this moment. Live at the courthouse this is—”
He shut the television off.
“Damn fools.”
“It’ll be all right, Granddad. We both know she’s innocent.”
“She’s still humiliated. It wasn’t good enough that the jackass she married degraded her in front of all of her friends with his womanizing and gambling, but now her good name has to be dragged through the mud for supposedly killing him and his mistress.”
“She’s only arrested for Anna’s murder,” I offered.
Granddad glared at me.
“You know what I mean. She had a great attorney who got her released the last time the police arrested her. I’m sure he’ll do the same this time.” I hesitated to tell him about Jack’s involvement in the case.
The less he knew about that the better.
“They always focus on the spouse. Have you noticed that, Becca? Once they come up with a motive that fits the spouse, it’s all over. They stop looking for the real killer. Damn shame. Poor Louisa Mae, I have to go see her. I imagine she’s had a rough night.” In one long gulp, he downed the rest of his coffee and pulled his summer weight jacket off of the peg by the back door.
Higgins and I watched him leave, neither of us happy, but for different reasons. In his haste to leave, Granddad had forgotten to feed his precious feline, a fact not lost on the cat. I was worried that granddad was going to make himself sick over something out of his control. He was way too involved in the O’Malleys’ personal business. First Edna, and now Louisa Mae. Was he trying to be chivalrous? Or was there more to it than that? Hmmm… There hadn’t been another woman in my granddad’s life since my grandmother. He was only seventy-five. I’m sure he got lonely and craved female companionship.
Whoa! Where was my mind going? I had to stay focused on the murders.
Despite what I had told him about my faith in Edna’s defense attorney, I wasn’t so sure that he’d get his client out of jail as fast as he had the last time. From everything I heard and read, it sounded like the authorities had dotted all the I’s and crossed all the T’s this time, which meant I needed to kick my investigation into high gear and put these days off to good use.
I’d start by paying a visit to Anna’s ex-boyfriend Joe Rizzo.
Joe lived about three miles from me. Tiny bungalow housing with overgrown yards formed a six-block perimeter off of Horsepen Road. I found Joe’s street without a problem and slowed the Honda down to a crawl as I searched for his home. It didn’t take me long. Neglect was more evident at his house than the rest of the homes on the block.
Bushes were overgrown and weeds filled the yard. I negotiated the overgrown-weed-infested walkway and carefully skirted a lamppost that leaned more than the Tower of Pisa.
Approaching the front stoop, I gingerly stepped on the wooden stairs. Painted blistered and peeled and the steps creaked as I put my weight on them.
I rang the bell, but no sound corresponded to my action. I tried again and met with the same results. Yanking open the screen door, it surprised me by almost coming off its hinges. I gingerly leaned it against the dingy white siding. The green painted wooden entry door had seen better days, but I rapped my knuckles against it anyway, hoping that termites hadn’t gotten here before me.
Children rode their bikes up and down in front of Joe’s house. Their bikes looked about as beat up as the house. I rapped again, louder this time and called out his name.
“Joe, I know you’re in there. Come to the door.” I really had no idea whether he was there or not. But his beat-up clunker of a car listed in the gravel driveway and I didn’t know where else to look for him.
“Hey, lady, he’s home. But I think he’s sick,” one of the kids from the neighborhood bike patrol said.
My heart skipped a few beats. “What do you mean sick?”
“He hasn’t been out in days.” The scrawny boy pointed to the car. “See. His car hasn’t moved. That’s how I know. Usually, he goes out every day. And whenever he sees us, he chases us off his grass. So he must be sick.”
A coldness enveloped me.
Sick or dead? Which was it? “You all better go on down the road. Go on home.”
If Joe was dead, I sure didn’t want these kids to be part of that scene.
I moved around the outside of the house trying to jump up and peer into windows. Grime coated them and spider webs clung to the corners. I hugged myself. I hated spiders.
“Hey, lady?”
I jumped as the scrawny kid on the bike tugged at my elbow. “Need a boost?”
I peered up at the window.
Yeah, I needed a boost in more ways than one.
He dragged an old plastic tub up to the house and flipped it over. “Here you go. He doesn’t keep all of his windows locked.” I decided not to ask how the kid knew this. “If you get up on the box you can reach the sash and try the window.”
I nodded and followed his instructions. To my surprise the kid was right. The unlocked window responded to my tentative shove. I eased the bottom portion up and since there were no screens to contend with, I pulled myself up to the sash. The kid hovered below me and tried to help by giving me a push now and then. Help like that I didn’t need. I motioned for him to move away from me with my free hand and hurled myself into the opening.
I landed with a thud on the bare wooden floor. The pungent odor of decayed food hit me hard. Yuck-a-mucka. I put my hand up against my nostrils to block out the foul smell.
The kid’s head appeared at the window. I waved him off and shut the window and latched it from inside. He stuck his tongue out at me. I stuck mine out at him. Very adult, Becca. Very adult. After all, he had helped. I pulled the curtains closed so I wouldn’t have to look at the kid and he wouldn’t see anything traumatic. In recent weeks I’d been traumatized enough for several lifetimes. No sense sharing my wealth with an innocent kid.
I crept through the living room. As I neared the kitchen the odor became overwhelming. I reached into my bag and pulled out a linen hankie and tied it around my nose and mouth. That way I could use both hands. For what, I wasn’t sure, but it might be wise to have both hands free. And it was definitely better to have the extra layer of fabric between me and the gross smell.
I entered the kitchen, all of my senses on alert. I scanned the area for a dead body, but all I saw was a mammoth amount of garbage.
Hefty bags on top of Hefty bags.
Partially eaten food littered the table.
Flies swarmed the area. I almost lost what little breakfast I had eaten.
Finding no dead Joe in there, I hurried out of the small, depressing, filthy area.
A hallway led away from the kitchen. Two closed doors on one side and one open door on the other. I quickly determined that the open door led to the bathroom.
I stuck my head in and pulled it out just as quickly. Disgusting.
Didn’t Joe know how to use cleaning products? No wonder Anna had dumped him. What a pig.
I threw open the first door on the left and found a home office. A surprisingly clean home office. He’d even covered the computer equipment to protect it from dust.
Everything tidy and well organized.
Either Joe didn’t use this room, or his regard for all things technical superseded his hygienic endeavors in the kitchen and bathroom.
I closed the door and stood in front of the last door in the small house. Either Joe was in there, or he wasn’t at home. At this point, I seriously hoped for the latter. Taking a deep breath, or as deep as I dared, I swung open the door.
Joe lay spread-eagle on the bed, unmoving. I stepped back and bumped into something. A bowling ball fell off of a chest and clattered to the floor.
“Jesus!” Joe bolted upright in bed.
I screamed like a girl, because… Well, you know. “You’re alive!”
“Of course I’m alive. Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my house?”
I lifted the tip of my hankie so Joe could get a better look at my face before putting it back down.
Definitely better to breathe through the linen.
“Aren’t you the receptionist at the shrink’s place?” He sat up and scratched his head. Greasy hair stood on end.
“Becca Reynolds.”
“Yeah, that’s it. I remember now. How did you get in? And why are you here?” He got up and advanced toward me, his sour breath preceding him.
Mindful of the fallen bowling ball, I backed out into the hall. “I, ah, I can explain.” Yeah, sure I could. I could tell him why I broke into his house. And then he could call the cops. And then I could listen to all of the people in my life explain how they had told me to leave the investigation to the police.
“I was worried when you didn’t keep your appointment.” Okay, it was an out and out lie, but at this point, it sure beat the truth.
His face softened. “You were?”
His face softened too much.
I had to make sure Joe didn’t think he interested me in any way, shape, or form. At least not for the reasons probably coming to his mind.
“Yes, the doctor sent me to check on you. To make sure you were all right.” This lying thing just got easier and easier.
“Dr. Palmer sent you here?”
I could tell from the tone of his voice I’d taken the lie too far and he didn’t buy it.
“Yes. She was concerned.” I backed up further as Joe advanced.
“I don’t believe you.”
He narrowed his beady eyes causing them to all but disappear in his bloated face. Holy-Smoley. What had Anna seen in him?
“Okay, I was worried about you. It’s unlike you to miss an appointment.” He still looked unconvinced. So I rushed to add, “After I didn’t see you at Anna’s service yesterday, I became concerned.”
That took him by surprise.
His face relaxed again, and he stopped his forward momentum. “You went to the funeral service?”
I nodded.
“How was it?”
What kind of question was that?
I wanted to scream that it was poorly attended and depressing, but I didn’t think it would further my cause.
“It was nice.” He nodded as if he believed me, maybe because he wanted to.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Tears formed in his eyes and spilled down his face. He ran a grimy hand across his cheeks smearing dirt and tears into a dark mask.
“I loved her.”
He staggered forward, and reluctantly I held him and patted him on the back all the while thinking I’d have to throw this outfit out. And wash my hair. And take a shower. Maybe a couple of showers. Joe hadn’t bathed in a while and had been doing a lot of drinking. The smell of stale alcohol emanated from his pores.
His body shook against my shoulder and he blubbered about his lost love.
Clearly, Joe hadn’t killed Anna. He’d been on one hell of a bender and his grief struck me as genuine. So, if neither Joe nor Edna had done it, then who?
Back to square one.
Or was I?
I was determined not to leave Joe Rizzo or his smelly home without something. And I didn’t mean a souvenir of my visit. I meant a clue. Something to go on. And that meant sobering Joe up. Tugging the handkerchief tight around my face, I went into the kitchen and found what could pass for a clean mug. Opening up a few cabinets, I located some instant coffee. The jar looked old and the contents less than freeze-dried. It would have to do. Pouring what I guessed was a generous spoonful into the mug, I filled the rest of the mug with tap water and nuked the contents for longer than I thought necessary, killing germs.
“Here you go, Joe. Drink this.” I shoved the mug of boiling black liquid into his hands.
He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “You’re crazy if you think I’m drinking that slop.” He pushed my hand away. I had to move fast to avoid getting burnt.
“Do you want the guilty person to pay for Anna’s death?” I set the mug on the scarred table in front of him.
He looked at the coffee and not at me. “’ Course, I do,” he mumbled, sitting down.
I sat beside him and felt something sticky beneath me. I didn’t even want to consider the possibilities. Oh yeah, this outfit was definitely going in the trash. “Then I need your help. You knew Anna better than anyone. Only you can help me.”
He looked at me as if I had sprouted another head. Of course, in this toxic wasteland, it was entirely possible that things were growing on me. I had to hurry the conversation along. “Drink the coffee. It’ll help you focus.”
Much to my surprise, he picked up the mug and started drinking. “Shit! This is terrible.” He wiped the back of his hand across his lips. “You trying to kill me? I thought making coffee was part of your job duties. Man, if you suck at the rest of your job like you do at making coffee, you better be prepared for the unemployment line.”
While he continued to berate my coffee-making skills, I half-tuned him out. I’d worked for the psychiatrists long enough to realize that his anger wasn’t really about my coffee, but about Anna’s death. He needed to take his grief out on someone, and here I sat, all handy. I tried to nudge him out of his coffee critique and get him back on track with Anna.
“It must have been hard on you when Anna took up with O’Malley.”
Joe pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. I fanned the smoke he blew in my direction. Good thing I still wore my impromptu mask.
“Can’t you take that thing off? You look weird.” He pointed to my hankie and reluctantly, I pulled it down around my neck. The house smell mixed with all of the body odors wafting off Joe threatened to knock me out. I fought my natural inclination to replace the mask, fighting an even greater natural inclination to barf.
“What, you’ve never been in a bachelor pad before?” He took another long drag on the cigarette. If he thought this constituted a bachelor’s living quarters …
But I had to stay on topic.
“Robert? And Anna?” I probed, none too gently.
“It was all about the money with Anna. That and taking someone else’s man away from them. It was all a game to her. Most of my dough goes to my ex-wife and kids. I left them after I met Anna. But I guess the sex and drugs and rock and roll weren’t enough for her.” He must have been remembering all those good SD&RR times because he smiled faintly. Then his breath hitched and I worried that he’d start blubbering again.
“But she needed money and standing in the community. That’s how she put it. O’Malley could give her that. That and drugs.”
O’Malley was into drugs? “Did you know for a fact that Robert and Anna used drugs?”
Joe laughed and stubbed out the cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. The acrid tobacco smoke lingered in a blue haze. “Duh.”
“That’s not an answer. If I’m going to bring Anna’s killer to justice, I need concrete details to go on.”
Again the weird look at me, like I’d come from another planet. “You’re not a P.I. or with the cops. What makes you so interested in this? And what makes you think you can do anything?” His sneer made me want to smack the expression off of his bloated face.
I ignored his question and fired off one of my own. “Where were you on the night Anna was murdered?”
He jumped up. “So that’s it. You think I killed her. Or you’re trying to pin it on me. Well, sister, you’ve got to get up earlier than that to outsmart me.”
Somehow I didn’t think so, but I had to convince him I wasn’t out to pin anything on him. “The police will be around here to question you.
Wouldn’t you like to try your story out on me first? After all, I don’t have the power to arrest you.”
“I loved Anna, even after she left me for that prick. She would have come back after she’d burned through his money. And his drug source. Me and Anna, we understood one another.” Tears welled up in his eyes again. Just when I thought his face couldn’t get any dirtier, he wiped it with the back of his grimy hand and voila! Instant filth.
“About the drugs,” I prompted. “Who was supplying her?”
“Didn’t you just hear me? O’Malley was her supplier. All she wanted. Free and clear.”
I let the information sink in.
I had a hard time reconciling the uptight, straight-as-an-arrow businessman I knew with a drug dealer.
“You’re sure about this?” I asked, my voice laced with doubt.
“Look, lady, I don’t care if you believe me or not. I’m telling you the truth. I was in the addiction support group where they met. I heard it all. And I saw the exchange in the parking lot. Between O’Malley and the Russian.”
My blood turned to ice.
“The Russian?” I managed to ask.
Joe smiled at me. A wicked, sinister smile. “Yeah, the Russian. Somebody you never want to mess with. Somebody who would kill you just as soon as look at you.”
I gulped so hard my throat hurt. Chernov was a drug supplier? Ohmygod!
“Do you think it’s possible that the Russian could have killed Anna?” I couldn’t bring myself to say Max’s name out loud.
“The Russian mafia would eliminate anyone who didn’t pay up. It’s how they work.” Joe’s chin quivered. “If Anna defaulted on any payments she owed, she was a dead woman.” He brought his hands up to his face and sobbed.
He was a mess. I wouldn’t get anything more from him.
Besides, I had to find Max. He had a lot of questions to answer for me.
I could only hope he wasn’t the Russian Joe referred to, but it sure seemed strange that Max felt it necessary to pay for Anna’s burial. Was that a guilty conscience talking? Or something else? I needed to find out which.