My first impression of the interior of Samuel Narotti’s house once he’d invited us inside was of how tidy it was. I didn’t know if I was expecting a hoarder or ramshackle furnishings or what. But Narotti’s house looked like he had a live-in housekeeper. Perhaps that was him. But it made me suspend the negative reports I’d heard about the man from Gloria Porter and my own daughter until I’d actually heard what he had to say about the Foster woman’s murder.
“I’d heard that witch had been killed on the news,” he said. “My only surprise was that it didn’t happen sooner.”
Okay, Gloria and Val were probably right.
“Why do you say that, Mr. Narotti?” Herc asked as we were seated.
“That she was a witch? I don’t throw that term around lightly,” Narotti returned. “No sirree. There were guys going in and out at all hours of the day. During hours when the little kids were walking by on their way to school. My granddaughter was living with me for a while and I worried about her safety, so I went over there to talk to the Foster woman. She told me to get off her property immediately and threatened to sue me for harassment if I came over again. Too bad too.”
“What do you mean by that?” Herc asked.
“It wasn’t always a, you know, cathouse. For years, when the husband was still alive and the girl was little, they were like any other American family. Especially the little girl. Carrie? Every so often, I’d see her out on the sidewalk riding her tricycle. Her bike in later years. One time she fell off right in front of my house, and I went to her rescue before her mom heard her. Took her a Band-Aid and got her to stop crying before her mom got there.”
“And Mrs. Foster? She treated you okay then?
“Yeah. That’s why it was difficult for me to understand how she could change so much once she started that business.”
I was more interested in his other comment. “Why are you not surprised she was killed?”
“Over the years, all types were seen frequenting that place. Guys in business suits and guys in shorts and T-shirts. But there were also the types you walk on the other side of the street to avoid, grungy, unkempt. There were also times when I was working in my backyard that I heard females shouting at each other, calling all sorts of names. That many people living in that size house, not a good mix.”
“How many people was that?” Herc asked.
He stroked his whiskered chin. “Seemed like a dozen at times, given the number of men in and out, but it was probably not as many. You didn’t see the women outside much. Not on the front porch or backyard.”
“How about the men?” I asked. “Were there any regulars you could name?”
“Regulars? Oh, yeah, I see what you mean. No, can’t say that I can. Name them, that is. In the last few years there haven’t been as many, and the ones that have showed up weren’t the kind you’d describe as good citizens. They got scruffier and scruffier.”
“But no disturbances,” Herc said. “At least no calls for the police.”
“Well, no. At least not from me. I was gone a bit last year. Hip replacement. My daughter insisted I go to a rehab center. All I needed was for her to come stay with me a few weeks while I recovered, but apparently her job was more important than her dear old dad.”
That might explain his overdeveloped interest in his neighbor’s comings and goings. I wondered if his daughter realized how much her dad missed her.
Unless he could provide them with any names, there didn’t seem to be much more to get from him. Right now, he mainly seemed to be keeping us here for the company.
Herc must’ve arrived at the same conclusion, because he slipped into what was becoming our standard exit question, their alibi. “Can you account for your whereabouts two days ago from noon to early evening?”
“Me? You mean you think I killed her?” He chuckled. “That’s actually a compliment, that you’d think I’m up to tracking her down in her new digs and doing her in.” Then he scowled. “No, if I’d wanted to send her into the next world, I would’ve done so while she lived next door, particularly the last few years while she was all alone in that big house.”
“Well, we appreciate your help, Mr. Narotti,” Herc said. If anything else occurs to you, here’s my card.”
Out on the street, we walked quickly past his car and up to my new project. The door was open, so we wandered in. A couple of the guys were busy in the living room cutting and installing drywall. “Val and Ryder are in the kitchen,” one of Ryder’s crew called out.
I waved at him. “Thanks.” Herc and I proceeded to the kitchen area. The wall that separated the kitchen from the old cupboard area was gone, giving the new kitchen a much larger appearance. The other walls had been stripped down to the studs, and most of the cabinets were down.
Val and Ryder were on their knees near where the kitchen sink had been. Both were frowning and nudging what used to be the thin layer of underlayment with their gloved fingers. Val glanced up. “Didn’t expect to see you guys for a while. Checking to see that we’re making nice with each other?”
I explained. “We were in the neighborhood. Do you need me for anything?”
She scowled. “I ‘need’ you to be here.” She gazed directly at Herc. “But with Ryder’s help, we’ve kept at it. We’re making good progress, don’t you think?”
I was torn between responding to her gibe about my not being around and handing her the attagirls she seemed to be needing. I chose to ignore her first comment. “You’ve accomplished a lot. And getting rid of that wall over there really worked.”
“I wasn’t so sure about that wall coming down,” Ryder said, his red hair falling in tufts around his head due to perspiration. “My opinion was you should attempt to save that pantry, because it’s a neat feature. But Val was firm, and now that I see it, I have to agree. Once we get past the current issue, this room holds a lot of promise.”
“What current issue?” I asked, a tiny ripple of anxiety hitting my stomach. I knew I should take these comments in stride, because no reno project came without its challenges. But not being part of the ongoing progress right now had shaken my usual confidence.
Ryder answered for the two of them. “This flooring where the sink used to be has rotted. Not atypical but it will add more expense to the project, because we’ll need to replace this part of the flooring. Hopefully the flooring in the rest of the house will be fine, but we haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Does this mean we won’t be able to refinish the original hardwood flooring?” I asked. Replacing it could add a significant expense to this project.
“Calm down, Ro,” Ryder replied. “So far, it looks like we’ll be able to salvage what’s here. If we find that won’t work, we’ll let you know before we act.”
I trusted Ryder. I trusted my daughter, for that matter, but sometimes in the name of expediency, as I’d already learned with the purchase of the house, she acted before considering all the possible outcomes.
I was about to respond when there was a loud beating on the front door.
“Are we expecting a delivery?” Val asked Ryder.
“Not that I know,” he replied.
She scrambled to her feet and went to answer it.
“Where is she?” a woman screamed at Val.
I’d heard that voice before, but before I could place it, Gloria Porter bolted into the kitchen, Val right behind her.
“I heard the police were here,” she said, her tone less than pleasant, as it had been when I was in her house. She focused her gaze on Herc. “That must be you. My neighbor, Sam, called to warn me you might be stopping by. Where’s the woman he said was with you?”
Time to come clean. “That would be me, Gloria.”
She jerked her head. “You? Aren’t you the one who just bought this house?”
“Yes, I did. Along with my daughter, Valerie, here. We’re partners in this home renovation, like I told you the other day.”
“But you didn’t tell me you were a cop.”
“I’m a retired cop. That didn’t seem important at the time. Since then, my former partner, that’s Detective Hercules Morgan here, asked me to help him on this case since his current partner is temporarily out of town.”
She drew herself up. “You used what I told you about my son’s involvement with this place.”
“He’s a possible suspect, Gloria. At best, we hoped he could give us the names of some of the women who worked here.”
“He called me, probably as soon as your visit was over. He was fuming, since he figured you’d learned of his involvement from me. He advised me, no, demanded I not talk to you again.”
“Then why are you here?” Herc asked. He kept his tone gentle, a far cry from her antagonism.
She did this thing with her lips, like swallowing them to keep herself from talking. “I couldn’t figure out how you guys had learned about Jonas so fast. So I came over here to find out.”
“While you’re here,” Herc asked, “why don’t you spare us the trouble of coming to interview you later? What more can you tell us about this place before these two bought it? We need to find out who might have had a strong enough motive to kill Janine Foster.”
“You don’t think I’d do such a thing?” Her voice rose even more.
“You tell us, ma’am. You’ve certainly exhibited a lot of anger since you’ve been here.” He then asked where she was on the afternoon and early evening of the murder.
“I was here. I’m always here, except when I’m getting groceries. If I was going to murder the woman, it would have been years ago, when I learned how she’d corrupted my son.”
Herc cocked his head, as he did so often when questioning witnesses. His way of saying without saying that there must be more to her current state of mind. “What about since then? Could you describe your relationship with the woman since then?”
She took a step back. “There wasn’t one. I’ve never come over here, never talked to her on the street, and she definitely didn’t come to my place.”
“But you saw people coming and going over the years,” I said, hoping to loosen her tongue again. “Did you recognize any of them or could you describe them?”
She shifted from one foot to the next, considering how to reply. “None of my neighbors. None of the big names in town. Doesn’t mean the VIPs didn’t come around. They probably came and left from the back, but that’s no more than speculation on my part. In recent years, the numbers dropped off. So no, I can’t give you any names. Check with that buddy of yours. He might know.”
“Buddy?” Herc asked, his forehead crinkling.
“Yeah, that cop. At least I think he was a cop. Jonas was here once having coffee on the front porch when that guy went to the door. Jonas recognized him as some vice cop. He must’ve known the guy since he’s a lawyer.”
“Did you get a name?”
“No. I figured since you all swim in the same pond, he would’ve been involved in your investigation already.”
“Uh, folks,” Ryder said, cutting into this exchange. “Could you move your chat into the other room? We’ve got work to do here.”
“Sure, Ryder,” I replied. “Sorry.”
“That’s all I have to say anyhow,” Gloria announced. She pivoted and slammed out as fast as she’d arrived.
As soon as she left, Herc turned to me. “We should go too. Unless you and Val need to talk more about this flooring?”
“No. We’re fine for now,” Val answered for me.
I’d told her she and Ryder were free to make their own decisions while I was on this case, but still, a part of me wished I hadn’t been quite so trusting. Not that I didn’t think they’d do fine, but it bothered me to be out of the loop entirely.
Herc and I returned to the car. By silent mutual agreement, we didn’t speak until we were several blocks away. Herc pulled up. “That was interesting.”
“You mean about the flooring?” I was kidding. I knew what he meant.
“I can’t believe that busybody doesn’t have a better idea about the clients who came here,” he said. “She’s holding back, probably because her son told her to.”
“What about the cop she mentioned? Any idea who that might be?” I asked.
“I’ve been through all the files I could find on this house and didn’t see any note of a vice cop coming to the place. Beat cops checking on the noise complaints but that’s all.”
“You plan to check into it though?”
“Yeah, of course. But I don’t think I’ll go right to the source. Not until I have to anyhow. If someone from Vice visited this house at one time or another but it hasn’t been reported, I doubt they’d be ready to open up to us without some nudging.”
“Who do you plan to talk to?”
“I know a few other cops I can tap for inside information. I think it’s best, though, that I do this solo. If someone knows something about a fellow cop, they’re more likely to share what they know with one of their own.”
That grabbed my attention. “And I’m not?”
“Not anymore, Ro. Don’t look so put out. You know how things are. It’s a closed shop when it comes to their own. You were part of it once, so don’t go saying it’s because you’re a woman.”
“But I’m good enough to work on this case?”
“You’ve gotta trust me on this.”
I did trust Herc, but his words amazed me. Even though I was no longer an active member of the force, I’d always envisioned myself as still a member at heart. “Okay. Will you share with me whatever you learn?”
“Unless I’d be revealing details of an ongoing investigation, yes.”
About as much as I could hope. “Where does that leave us?”
“Let’s call it a day. You go home and rest, because tomorrow will be even more intense. We should talk to the other condo residents. They were in shock when the first officers on the scene interviewed them. Now they’ll have had time to process the situation and may be able to shed more light on things. Leave Val and Ryder alone. I’ll try to hit my sources.”
Although I wasn’t crazy about staying away from the reno site, Herc knew my daughter and me pretty well. She’d resent my attempting to pop in and solve their problems. If she needed me, she’d call. Plus, truth be told, I was worn out. I was used to the pace I’d set for my part of the renos, but being back on an investigation again was proving to be a challenge. I hoped Herc just wanted me out of the way and that he hadn’t noticed I was losing steam. I’d make sure to take my vitamins tonight. Tomorrow would be an even bigger challenge.