Chapter 11
I got to the office a good fifteen minutes before Nate walked in. Judging from the circles under his eyes, he was either staying up past midnight or getting up at an obscene hour similar to my schedule as of late, and that included the past weekend.
I shouted to him as he made a beeline to the Keurig. “Hey! You look exactly the way I feel. I’ve had two early morning meetings this week, thanks to my aunt Ina, and not a lot of sleep. It’s a good thing we’ve got a reliable coffee machine.”
Nate was already getting his cup ready before I finished my thought. “The way my schedule has been going, I could take this stuff intravenously. I’ve been up since five. Five! Who the hell gets up at that hour? Don’t say anything. I’ll tell you who—Herb Garrett. That neighbor of your mother’s. He had an early morning tee time with some buddies of his and offered to meet me before he got to the golf course. To make matters worse, he didn’t want to meet in Sun City West, in case Theodore Sizemore’s killer was in earshot. His words, not mine.”
“Yikes. Killer? I didn’t know the authorities had an actual murderer in mind.”
“They don’t. The case is still under investigation. The guy’s death is suspicious, that’s all.”
“So where did you wind up meeting?”
“At a Dunkin’ Donuts in Surprise and, unless Herb always wears dark glasses and a booney hat, I swear he was trying to dress incognito. Is he a nutcase or what?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, compared with the other friends and neighbors my mother has, he’s pretty normal. Fancies himself a real Don Juan but seems harmless enough. I know he keeps an eye out for my mom in case anything odd is going on in the area. How did the conversation go? Find out anything?”
“Not as much as I would have liked. Herb didn’t see anything and woke up only when the emergency crews arrived, flashers and all. But he did, as he put it, “have the skinny on this Sizemore dude.”
“Sounds like Herb. Of course, you do know that any information gleaned from the residents in Sun City West needs to be filtered for gossip, hearsay, and rumor. I should know. I get to do that all the time with my mother. So, what did you learn?”
“Well, to begin with, Theodore Sizemore had a falling out with some members of the board at his country club and decided to quit his membership for the year. Doesn’t seem like a cause for murder, but I’ll look into it. Herb went on to tell me how wealthy this Sizemore guy was and how he was a ‘wheeler-dealer’ when it came to investing in high-class restaurants in Dallas, Miami, Los Angeles, and Manhattan. That, I already knew.”
“What about family? Did Herb know if the guy was married or anything?”
“No, but I’d already found that out. Theodore Sizemore was divorced, no children, and the ex-wife remarried a CEO for some pharmaceutical company. She’s quite well off without any of his money.”
“So, who gets his money?”
“The lawyers are sifting through that now. I imagine monies from his business partnerships stay with the businesses, and as far as his personal wealth is concerned, I’m sure he had a will and I’ll eventually be privy to that information.”
“I’ve got one more question, Nate.”
“Yeah?”
“You were asked to investigate because the sheriff’s office thought the death was suspicious. Why? Can you tell me?”
“I know you won’t say anything to anyone. So, yeah. Theodore Sizemore was found face down on the river rocks with a toppled golf cart a few feet away. Granted, it’s a fairly steep fall, but he suffered a blow to his head that couldn’t have come from the fall. It was on the left-hand side of his temple, above the eye. Here’s where it gets interesting. The position of his body had him sprawled on his right side. The river rocks didn’t cause that blow. It had to have been done deliberately. The deputy sheriff who investigated noticed that immediately and the coroner concurred. Of course, we’re still waiting for autopsy results and toxicology, but my take is someone was standing off to the side of the path in the semidarkness and hurled a heavy rock right at the guy’s temple. Someone with good aim. Too bad there weren’t any witnesses.”
“Wow. That’s almost as creepy as Roland LeDoux’s death. Of course, he was bitten by a snake, but what the heck was he doing down in that ditch?”
“I’m sure if anyone will figure that out, you will, Phee. From the sound of things, your aunt isn’t going to give you any peace until she knows how her master chef met his end. I’d offer to look into it, but I’m inundated.”
“Oh gosh, Nate. I wouldn’t expect you to do that. I’m just concentrating on the wedding preparation stuff that seems to be landing in my lap. If there’s anything to Roland LeDoux’s death, I’m sure someone will figure it out.”
That second, the phone rang and I reached over Augusta’s desk to pick it up. Of all things, it was my mother. Nate refilled his coffee, but not before giving me the sign of an X with his fingers as soon as he heard it was her. I swear I heard him laugh all the way into his office.
“Mom! Why are you calling me at work? Is anything wrong?”
“Wrong? Of course there’s something wrong. A man was murdered a few yards from my house and, for all I know, everyone on this block could be on his hit list. Wanda and Dolores, who live across the street, are positive we have a prowler. They called the sheriff’s posse and reported it.”
“Reported what?”
“Oh. Didn’t I tell you? Wanda and Dolores had their landscaper plant a lovely flower bed of azaleas, lantanas, yellow bells, and other desert perennials. Brought in special reflective glass pebbles for it, too. And, of all things, someone went trampling through them. Made a real mess. Now the landscaper has to come back.”
“It was probably coyotes or javelinas. Maybe even rabbits.”
“You sound just like that sheriff’s deputy. No, Wanda and Dolores are certain it was done by a person. Someone who walked through the side of their yard from the golf course.”
“This is getting ridiculous, Mom. Is that why you called me? To tell me about your neighbors’ plants?”
“Not their plants, their prowler. And I called you because I had an idea of who might have killed your aunt Ina’s chef and I didn’t want to wait.”
“Is this idea of yours based on any facts?”
“It could be. I think that man was most probably murdered by a jealous ex-girlfriend. I read in the paper he wasn’t married, so it had to be an ex-girlfriend.”
“Just like that? An ex-girlfriend? Here we go again. The same as last year when you were certain the ex-boyfriend of your neighbor Jeanette was the one responsible for those book club deaths. And what do you know? She didn’t even have an ex-boyfriend or a boyfriend, for that matter! This is craziness. Stop coming up with these wackadoodle theories.”
“Call me later, Phee, and we can discuss this. I can tell by the irritated sound of your voice you’re too busy right now.”
“Because I’m at work! Work! I can’t stop to talk about plants, ex-boyfriends, or prowlers. Try not to dwell on this, will you? I’ll talk to you later, Mom.”
She made a “hrrumph” sound and hung up just as Nate walked back into the room.
“What’s this about plants and prowlers?”
“Can you believe it? My mother’s neighbors, Wanda and Dolores, are convinced they have a prowler.”
I went on to explain about the trampled perennials and the call those women made to the sheriff’s posse, expecting Nate to burst out laughing. He didn’t.
“Where did you say these neighbors live?”
“Diagonal from my mother’s house, near Herb Garrett. Why?”
“So the back of their house faces the golf course.”
“That’s right.”
“Phee, it might not have been coyotes. Did you mother say when their landscaper was coming back?”
“No, but I doubt it’s today. Those companies get pretty busy.”
“Great! Then there’s still time. Do you have the address?”
“No, unless you really want me to call my mother back.”
I’m sure he could read my face, and it had “PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME CALL HER” splashed all over it.
“You said it was diagonal to your mom’s place. Any distinguishing features about their house?”
“One. A pig. A huge ceramic pig that sits on the front lawn under their picture window. They dress the thing up according to the season or their moods. Last time I looked it was sporting polka dots and wearing a straw hat. My mother said Wanda and her daughter, Dolores, are from Iowa and that’s what they do in Iowa for lawn decorations.”
“Good. I shouldn’t have any trouble finding the place. Look, it’s a lead, Phee, and I’m checking it out. Catch you later.”
“You’re serious, Nate? You believe her?”
“That’s what I’m about to find out.”
He bolted out the door before I could say anything else. As I stood there, I couldn’t help but wonder why I was disregarding certain information that apparently had some merit. How on earth was I ever going to learn the difference? Not that it really mattered. Any investigating I wound up doing was by the seat of my pants. And I was doing it for one reason only—to prevent my aunt Ina from getting even more agitated about her wedding.
The only salvation I had was the fact my mother wasn’t plaguing Nate with all of her theories. Herb Garrett was bound to do that. It was just a matter of time.
Thankful to immerse myself in spreadsheets and data, I pulled up the monthly reports and got to work. I was so engrossed I didn’t even hear Augusta come in. I nearly jumped out of my seat when she rapped on the frame of my office door to say good morning.
“What makes you so jumpy this morning? I’m just saying hello, not holding up the joint.”
“It’s been a madhouse, if you must know. So far this week I’ve seen a dead body, had my mother call to tell me two of her friends were brought into the sheriff’s station on possible murder charges, and now there might really be a murderer trespassing through her neighbors’ yard. In fact, Nate went to check it out.”
“A trespasser, huh? That’s a new one. I know those women don’t want to consider owning guns, but nothing says ‘Get the hell away from me’ more than staring down the barrel of a Glock at someone. Of course, a well-trained German shepherd or Rottweiler could do the trick.”
“My mother already owns a dog. And the only trick he knows is to hide under the couch.”
Augusta smiled and headed to her desk. For some reason, the phone had been quiet all morning, but that changed the minute she got in. The darn thing rang like crazy. Mostly new referrals.
“Mr. Williams is going to need to hire another investigator pretty soon,” Augusta shouted across the room. “There’s only so much one person can handle. You ever think about doing that detective stuff, Phee?”
I walked to the outside office. “Sure, I think about it. It’s right up there with trekking the Andes and riding an Icelandic horse across glacial rivers.”
We both started laughing, and I went back to my desk.
Nate appeared an hour or so later. Ecstatic, wired, and smiling. “It wasn’t coyotes, kiddo. Unless they’ve started wearing shoes.”
I was almost speechless. The last thing I ever expected was for one of my mother’s ramblings about the neighbors to have any validity.
“Oh my gosh. You’re kidding.”
“’Fraid not. I imagine the sheriff’s office gets all sorts of calls from panicky residents who overreact, so the deputies get to a point where they half-heartedly check stuff out. Now, don’t get me wrong or repeat this, but I think that’s what happened. When I got there—and, by the way, Wanda and Dolores were very accommodating—I took a good look at their plants. The track marks were really clear. Right down to the gravel. They could only have been made by someone who walked directly through their property upon leaving the golf course.”
“So you think it might have been the person responsible for Theodore Sizemore’s death?”
“Given the time frame of when those perennials were planted and when the ladies discovered the damage, it certainly fits.”
“Whoa. So now what?”
“Now I’m really stuck. Closer, but stuck. It was right before dawn and no one heard or saw anything. Even if someone noticed a car going down the block, it wouldn’t provide me with much information. The only recourse I have is to keep talking with people like Herb to drum up information and make connections. And, of course, I’ll need to see the sheriff’s reports for late that night and early the next morning. In fact, I put a call in and someone’s going to meet with me in a little while.”
“Lucky you.”
“Only if I get somewhere with this. Hey, before I forget, I lucked out with the deadbeat dad case I was working and found the guy less than twenty miles from here in Goodyear. Wish they were all that easy. Anyway, I’ve got some infidelity surveillance to do later in the day, so I won’t be back in the office until tomorrow. If anything comes up, call my cell.”
“No problem. Augusta and I will be fine.”
We were. A few walk-ins inquired about our services and someone actually mistook me for an investigator. The woman started to give me an entire history about her jealous ex-boyfriend and her drained bank account when I finally explained it was Nate Williams she needed to see.
“Really?” the woman asked. “I assumed you were a detective. You have that look about you.”
“That look?”
“You know. Confident. Capable.”
Practically beaming, I pushed my shoulders back, until the blades of my back pinched together.
The woman went on. “Plus, you have your own office.”
So that was it. The real reason. I was hoping she’d say I reminded her of Kate Beckett or even Jane Rizzoli but no, it was because I had my own office. I took the woman’s information and told her Nate would call her in the morning.
“Rest assured,” I said. “My boss has plenty of training, experience, and motivation.”
As she left the office, I thought about what I had on my docket and felt nauseous. My “client” list consisted of a hysterical woman with a fast-approaching wedding, a meddlesome mother, and a dead master chef. Worse yet, none of those were paying clients.