CHAPTER SIX
“It was worth a try,” Case said on our return trip to the food trucks. “But what happened to me doing all the talking?”
“Your way wasn’t working,” I told him. “Besides, it doesn’t matter who talks if no one is listening.”
“True,” Case said, taking my hand. “I wonder if Walter’s replacement will be any more helpful.”
That gave me pause. Who would replace Detective Walters? Then I remembered that Bob Maguire had mentioned something about the position. “Wouldn’t it be great if Bob got the job? I’ll have to ask him more about it.”
“That would make our life a whole lot easier,” Case said as we made our way back to the food trucks. “I’m going to order a hoagie for lunch. They look amazing. You?”
“I’ll stick with my pizza,” I told him.
The food trucks were located in downtown Sequoia at a plaza across from our office on Greene Street. As soon as we had our food, I picked out a picnic table with a clear view of our building. The clouds had cleared away, leaving the sun shining brightly in the sky, glinting off the sign that read Greene St. Detective Agency.
As we ate, Case and I talked about the murder investigation. We discussed our next steps, and that I would be going back to Spencer’s until it was time to meet with Fran. “What are you going to do this afternoon?” I asked him as we stood to throw away our trash.
“I need to do some work in Saugatuck.”
“I thought you could do your work from the office.”
“Most of the work, not all of it.” He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back early. I might even have time to play a few hands of blackjack at the Blackburn Riverboat Casino. I’m feeling lucky today.”
“Are you going to talk to Donald Blackburn?”
“Maybe.”
“Man to man?”
He gave me a forced smile. “Funny, but no. I just want to see his operation, get a feel for the place.”
“Just remember, though,” I teased, “I know how much money is in the petty cash drawer.”
Case smiled and pulled his sunglasses down off his forehead before leaning in to give me a peck on the cheek. “Good luck with your interview.”
* * *
At two o’clock I met with a couple who needed a landscape plan for their house, and after talking over their needs, I took them out back to select their shrubbery. I led them past the patio featuring a large selection of outdoor tables and chairs, past several rows of roses, until we came to the hydrangeas. They chose three varieties for color, two viburnums for height, and six boxwoods for edging. We drew up a plan, scheduled a day for delivery and installation, and suddenly it was nearly three o’clock and I needed to get ready for the meeting with Fran Decker.
I went in search of my father and found him unpacking bags of potting soil in the stockroom on the back side of the big barn. “Pops, I have to leave for a while. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
He pushed a bag up onto a shelf. “Thanks for the heads-up. Do me a favor and let Delphi know on your way out.”
“Where is she?”
Dad wiped his forehead with the back of his work glove. “I have no idea.”
“Have you seen Niko?”
“He’s probably with Delphi,” Dad said.
When Delphi went missing, it usually meant she was in the conference room giving a coffee-grounds reading to an unsuspecting customer, but this time the room was vacant. I searched the large indoor space, looked down every aisle, but the whole barn was empty. I didn’t even see any customers.
Drew was sitting behind the cash register reading the back of a pesticide can, looking unbearably bored.
“Where is everybody?” I asked him.
“Probably at the fair. It’s been slow all day.” He held up the can. “Have you ever read the ingredients in this?”
I heard a thwack coming from the entrance. I turned to look through one of the barn-door windows, but I couldn’t see anyone there.
Another thwack. I looked out in time to see a bright green tennis ball bounce back to the sidewalk. I opened one of the big red doors and stepped outside just as the tennis ball came flying at me. I flinched instinctively but somehow managed to catch the ball.
Delphi stood a few feet down the sidewalk, looking surprised. Nicholas stood beside her, looking horrified. I heard the scampering of little feet and saw little Oscar running up the sidewalk at full speed. He leapt after the tennis ball in my hand, and I braced myself for impact as he landed in my open arms. The baby raccoon we had raised was growing up. I could feel the weight of him almost knock me backward. Oscar wrestled the tennis ball from my hand, jumped down, and ran to drop the ball at my son’s feet.
Nicholas jumped for joy, clapping and hollering. “He did it, Mom! I taught him that!”
Delphi doubled over laughing. “Thenie, you should have seen your face.”
“What in the world are you doing out here?” I asked, trying to hold back a sudden rush of anger.
Nicholas was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry, Mom. We were just playing.”
“If you’re going to play with Oscar, Niko, play in the back. Not out in front. He could run out into the street.”
“Sorry, Thenie,” Delphi said. “You were back there with customers, so we came out front.”
“Go help Grandpa in the stockroom,” I told my son. “He’s the only one working around here.”
“Yes, Mom,” Niko said.
“Delphi, I’m leaving for a while. You’re in charge of the sales floor.”
“Don’t forget,” Delphi reminded me, “you’re closing up tonight.”
“I won’t forget. Keep your eye on Niko, will you? No more playing around.”
“You can count on me.”
Could I, though?
The day was sunny and warm, and the light blue sundress and white sandals I’d chosen that morning were perfect. I walked down Greene Street to the 535 building and went upstairs to the detective agency, where I found Abby working on her laptop in my office. I sat down at my desk and waited for her to finish typing. “I talked with the detective,” I told her, “and I have some discouraging news.”
Abby looked up from the monitor. “Let me guess. The detective wouldn’t talk to you.”
“Oh, he talked,” I said, “but he didn’t have anything nice to say. So, unfortunately, Jillian isn’t out of the woods yet.”
“Speaking of Jillian,” Abby said, “the judge set her bond, she posted it, and then she was released. Her husband picked her up, and she’s on her way home right now.”
“That’s great! I’ll bet she’s relieved.”
“She is.” Abby closed the laptop and stood. “But I won’t feel relieved until we find the murderer. From experience, I know how fast things can turn around and head in the wrong direction, especially when the lead detective isn’t cooperative.” She glanced at her watch. “Shall we go?”
We grabbed our purses and headed for the door. “Just so you know,” I said, as we stepped into the hallway, “I’ve never met Fran Decker before. How should we play this?”
Abby waited while I locked the office door, then asked, “What do you mean?”
“This is my first official investigation. Until now Case and I have had to take a very creative approach to our interviews because we weren’t legitimate PIs. Case still has nightmares about the Greek fisherman disguise I made him wear.”
Abby laughed as we headed down the stairs. “Trust me, we won’t need any disguises or creative approaches. Tell you what, why don’t you let me take the lead on this one?”
“Sounds great to me.”
We walked a few blocks going over some of the questions Abby was going to ask Fran, then I pointed to a small boutique across the street with Fabulous Fashions in white letters arcing across its large plate-glass window. “There’s her shop.”
We cut across the street and stopped in front of the shop. “Are you okay taking notes?” Abby asked me.
“Of course.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a notepad. “Here you go.”
I patted my tote bag. “I brought an iPad.”
“Hi-tech,” she said, slipping the notebook back into her purse. “I still do it the old-fashioned way.”
She opened the door, causing a bell to ring inside. I followed her into the shop, where we found a salesclerk helping a customer select some clothing. Another woman was standing behind a sales counter. She smiled as we approached.
“We’re here to see Fran,” Abby told her.
“She’s in back,” the woman said. “I’ll go get her.”
While she was gone, we looked at some of the clothing hanging on the round racks. “This is pretty,” Abby said, pulling out a yellow sweater.
“That color looks nice with your hair,” I told her.
She turned to admire herself in a full-length mirror hanging on the far wall. “That’s what my husband says.” She draped the sweater over her shoulders and checked the mirror again. “It’s a good thing, too, because yellow just happens to be my favorite color.”
I was about to pull out a pretty, blue summer dress when suddenly I found myself summoning the words of my so-called psychic sister. Yellow aura. Delphi had imagined Abby surrounded by a yellow aura, and there she was, wrapped in a yellow sweater. I chalked it up to coincidence.
The clerk came through a curtain in the back and walked up to us with a smile. “Fran will be right out.”
We continued looking through the racks until a tall, slender woman with short white hair came through the curtain. Appearing to be in her early sixties, she wore a slim navy dress with navy heels and large oval glasses, looking every inch a smart, stylish businesswoman.
“Hi,” she said with a smile. “How can I help you?”
Abby handed her a business card and gave Fran a moment to look at it. “I’m Abby, and this is Athena Spencer from the Greene Street Detective Agency. Do you have time to talk to us?”
Fran said in a whisper, “Is this about Carly Blackburn?”
“Yes, it is,” Abby answered.
“Come with me.” Fran led us to the back of the shop and through the curtain, where we found an area she had carved out as office space, a niche where she’d set up a computer and a filing cabinet. There was nowhere for us to sit, so we all stood.
“I hope you don’t mind talking back here,” Fran said. “I wouldn’t want a customer to overhear. You understand.”
“It’s fine,” Abby told her. “We won’t be long.”
Fran smiled again. Her smile was modest and warm with laugh lines creasing the corners of her eyes. “How can I help?”
“We’d like to ask you some questions about last Thursday evening,” Abby said.
“Sure. Go ahead.”
I pulled the iPad from my tote and opened a file marked Fran. With the device in my left hand, I did my best to type notes with my right while Abby fired away her questions.
“What time did you arrive at the hotel?”
“Let’s see.” Fran tapped her chin. “It was a little before six p.m. The show started at seven, but I arrived early to bring in the clothing.”
“What did you do when you got there?” Abby continued.
“I wheeled in the dress racks and positioned them behind the row of dressing rooms. That took up my time until models started to arrive, and then I helped them with their outfits.”
“Did you see Jillian Osborne backstage?” Abby asked.
“Yes. I saw Jillian around six, then she was pulled away by the audio man to test the microphone. After that she went out to the ballroom until the show started.”
“Thinking back, do you remember anything unusual happening backstage?” Abby asked.
“Oh, yes,” Fran replied, “there was a lot of tension between the models. It was incredibly uncomfortable. In fact, on the first night, I overheard Carly arguing with Eleni.”
I quickly typed in her response with my free hand, but there was too much information. My fingers couldn’t keep up, so I asked Abby to give me a minute, wishing I had accepted her offer to use the notepad.
When I’d finished, Abby continued. “Could you hear what the women were arguing about?”
“Something to do with the mayor,” Fran replied. “Something about an affair.”
Abby pulled her notepad from her purse and flipped to a certain page. “The mayor is Charles Sloan,” she read aloud, as though reminding herself, “and Eleni and Charles are married.” She looked up from her notes and asked Fran, “Carly and Eleni were arguing about Charles Sloan having an affair?”
“Yes, I heard his name mentioned several times, but I didn’t stay long enough to hear anything else. I didn’t want to eavesdrop.”
I added the name of Sequoia’s beloved hometown mayor, Charles Sloan, to my notes and highlighted the word affair. Things were starting to get interesting.
“Was he at the fashion show?” Abby asked.
Fran nodded. “Yes. He gave the introduction before Jillian took over.”
“Why would the mayor introduce a fashion show?” Abby questioned.
“He has just recently pledged his support to the Small Business Association, so we asked him to speak at our event. He drew in quite a large crowd.”
“Did you see him before the show?”
Fran thought for a moment, then answered plainly, “I don’t believe so.”
I added a question to my notes: Where was the mayor before the show started?
“Did anything else happen on the first night?” Abby asked. “Anything that stood out to you?”
“Not that I can recall. We ended up having a great show.”
Abby moved on to the second night, the night of the murder. “Can you describe the events leading up to the show on Thursday night?”
“Jillian came in like I said, and then Eleni came in a little after that. She wanted to make some changes to her outfits, so I helped her.”
Fran’s information lined up with what Jillian had told us.
“Had Jillian placed the bottles before Eleni arrived?” Abby asked.
Fran nodded. “She put out the bottles when she first got there. We chatted for a bit. She was very nice. I really hope you can prove she didn’t poison the water.”
“Me, too,” Abby said. “Hopefully your information will help. I’d like to get a timeline of what happened after Eleni arrived. Do you know who came in next?”
“Carly came next,” she told us. “That must’ve been about a half hour before the show started.”
Abby leaned over to check my notes, then continued, “From the timeline you’ve given, Eleni arrived well before the other models. Was Eleni ever alone backstage?”
Fran paused to give the question careful consideration. I could tell where Abby was leading. If Eleni was alone, she would’ve had plenty of time to poison the water.
“I’m sorry,” Fran answered, “but I wasn’t keeping tabs on Eleni. I was going back and forth between my racks of clothes and the dressing rooms, getting ready for Hope and Carly.”
“And you said the clothing racks were located behind the dressing rooms,” Abby said.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Did you ever see Eleni enter Carly’s dressing room?”
“No.”
“In the time it took you to set up the other outfits,” she said, “would Eleni have had time to slip into Carly’s dressing room?”
Fran shook her head. “I don’t know. I guess she could have, but I wasn’t paying attention.”
“When Carly came in,” Abby continued, “did she and Eleni continue their argument from the previous evening?”
“No, from what I could tell, the two didn’t speak to each other.” Fran cleared her throat. “You seem to be very interested in Eleni. Do you think she had something to do with Carly’s death?”
“We’re interested in everyone who was backstage,” Abby answered.
Fran cleared her throat again and said in a lower voice, “The reason I’m asking is, Eleni seemed to be upset when she first came in Thursday night. I know her fairly well, and I don’t want to place the blame on anyone, but Eleni didn’t seem herself. She’s normally very outgoing and funny, always laughing, always smiling, but that night was different. She was quiet, and her eyes were red and swollen, as though she’d been crying. It wasn’t the Eleni I know.”
“And this was on the night of Carly’s death?” Abby asked.
“Yes,” she said confidently.
I typed it in.
“That’s all the questions I have about Eleni,” Abby said to both of us. “Athena, can you think of anything else?”
“I think you’ve covered everything,” I told her.
“Then let’s move on to Hope,” Abby said. “We basically have the same questions. Was Hope alone backstage? Did you see her enter Carly’s dressing room?”
“No, but when Hope came in, she was practically screaming at Carly. I remember that clearly, and I told the police about it because of the threats.”
“What threats?” Abby asked.
“Carly kept repeating. ‘You’ll pay for that.’ I’m not sure what she meant, but then Hope responded by telling Carly to watch her back.”
My fingers were typing furiously, trying to keep up.
“Hope threatened Carly?” Abby reiterated.
“Yes,” she answered. “Loudly. And I’m not the only one who heard it. Eleni was there, too.”
Wow. Not only had Carly argued with Eleni on the first night, but she had also been fighting with Hope on the night of the murder. Abby was right. Carly did make enemies easily.
“What happened next?” Abby asked.
“Carly received a phone call and left the stage. I don’t remember when she came back to get ready for the show, but she was there when it started.”
“And that’s all the information you have about Hope?”
“Yes,” she said, “I don’t know Hope very well, and I’ve come to believe that’s a good thing.”
“What do you mean?” Abby asked.
Fran shrugged. “I can’t put my finger on it. She just seems a little . . . off-balance?”
“What happened after Hope left?” Abby asked.
“The rest of the night is just a blur of activity. Soon after that, the music started playing, the crowd began to filter into the ballroom, and then the show began.”
After I finished typing, Abby looked to me for more questions about Hope, but I had none. I had numerous questions to ask Hope, though, like why she had threatened Carly. And if the police knew about it, why wasn’t Hope being considered a suspect?
“Moving on,” Abby said. “Did you see anyone else backstage at any time, before or during the show?”
“I did,” Fran answered. “I believe he was a security guard. He walked through before the show, stopped me to ask a few questions, and then left.”
“What did he ask you?”
“He asked for my name, my reason for being backstage, security type questions.”
“Was that before or after Jillian arrived with the water?” Abby asked.
“I’m pretty sure it was after she arrived.”
“We also have evidence that another man was backstage,” Abby said. “He would’ve been wearing a black baseball cap and T-shirt and would’ve exited through the back door. Did you see anyone matching that description? This would’ve been right before the show started.”
“Not that I remember. Like I said, it was just a blur at that point.”
One of Fran’s employees came into the back room and stopped at the door to the small office. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Just fine, dear,” Fran answered gracefully. “I’ll be out soon.”
Before leaving, the employee gave Abby and me a strong once-over, clearly confused as to why the three of us were crammed inside Fran’s office.
“Just a few more questions,” Abby said, “and then we’ll let you get back to work. Did you notice anyone coming in or out of the backstage door?”
“Just me and the security guard.”
“So, you were able to enter the hotel through the back entrance?” Abby asked.
“Yes. I parked in the employee lot and was given a pass to get into the building. It was a lot easier than going in and out through the lobby with my racks of clothing.”
“And the only other person you noticed using the back door was a security guard?”
“That’s right,” she said.
“Did he have an employee pass?”
“I can only assume he did,” Fran answered.
Abby glanced at me. “Do you have anything else you want to ask?”
“Yes,” I said. “Do you know who found Carly’s body?”
“I believe Eleni was the one who called for help.”
“Where were you when Eleni called for help?” I asked.
“I was behind the dressing rooms, preparing the next round of outfits. I heard Eleni call out and came to see what had happened.” Fran shook her head. “It was so sad. Carly had drawn her knees up to her chest, and her eyes and mouth were open, as though she’d been surprised. And there was a puddle of vomit beside her. It was a terrible sight.”
“I’m sure it was,” I told her. “I’m sorry to bring it up.”
“I just hope I’ve been of some help to you,”
“You’ve been very helpful,” Abby told her. “Thank you.”
“It’s not a problem,” Fran said. “Anytime.”
As Abby and I headed back up Greene Street to the detective agency, Abby said, “Good interview. We got a lot of information from Fran. Now I’m really curious as to the arguments the women had. What intrigued me was the conversation between Eleni and Carly mentioning an affair. That bears investigating.”
I slid my sunglasses over my eyes. “I thought it was interesting that Carly argued with both Eleni and Hope.”
“Jillian warned us about Carly,” Abby pointed out. “It sounds like she made enemies easily, which makes our job all the harder.”
“What about the threats made by Hope?” I asked.
“Would you read back what Fran said about them?” Abby asked.
I pulled out my iPad and looked through my hastily typed notes. “Here it is. Carly came backstage and told Hope that she would pay for that, whatever that means. And Hope replied with a threat of her own. She said that Carly should watch her back.”
“I have a feeling,” Abby said while rummaging through her yellow purse, “that Hope told the detective about Jillian’s relationship with Carly to throw them off her trail.” She retrieved a pair of sunglasses from her purse and shaded her eyes. “Given the threat she made to Carly, I’m moving Hope to number one on my suspect list. Let’s try to talk with her soon.”
We chatted for another ten minutes as we walked to the office and then climbed the inside stairs to the detective agency, where I found the door unlocked and Case at his computer.
“Win any money?” I asked as Abby and I approached his desk.
“Nope.”
“Lose any money?” I quipped.
“I lost the houseboat and the deed to our building.”
Abby set her purse down and looked at Case with raised eyebrows.
“He’s joking,” I informed her. “He doesn’t own either one.”
“I did find out that Donald Blackburn is at his casino every evening if we want to check him out,” Case said. “How did your interview go?”
We pulled up chairs in front of his desk and filled him in on our meeting with Fran. He sat, quietly listening while Abby explained why Hope was her top suspect, and I made my case for Eleni having the most convenient opportunity and, possibly, a motive involving Eleni’s husband.
“So,” Case said, “the murder victim and Eleni were arguing about Mayor Sloan. And we know that the victim was the mayor’s campaign manager. Maybe they had a dispute about how the campaign was being run.”
“It’s possible,” I countered. “But given that Fran heard Carly and Eleni mention an affair, I have a different theory—two women fighting over a man. Carly was working with him, and Eleni was married to him. Not to mention Carly was recently divorced.”
“A love triangle,” Case said. “That’s a strong motive.”
“Fran mentioned that Eleni was acting strangely on the night Carly was poisoned,” I said. “Maybe Eleni had just found out about an affair and took the opportunity to seek her revenge.”
“Speaking of Eleni”—Abby checked her watch—“it’s after four now, and we want to be at her bookstore by five thirty.” She stood. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to do some more research. Will you send me your notes?”
“Of course,” I said.
Case started typing. “I’ll work with Abby to compile a list of questions for Eleni.”
“Perfect.” I stood up. “That gives me time to check in at the garden center and be back by five fifteen. I’ll see you both then.”
* * *
When I got back to Spencer’s, everything was quiet. I saw only two customers in the store. My dad was unpacking a box of garden gloves and hanging them on an endcap, and my cousin Drew was perched on a stool behind the counter scrolling through something on his cell phone.
“Where are Delphi and Niko?” I asked Drew.
“Niko is out in the back trying to teach Oscar a new trick, and Delphi is in the conference room with a couple she knows. You might know the guy—Ken Brody. His uncle owns Majestic Jewelers.”
“Is Delphi doing a reading?” I asked.
He chuckled. “I think so.”
I went up the hallway that led to the office and stopped just outside the conference room to listen.
“You have to love this ring,” said the man, whom I assumed was Ken Brody. “The wedding band locks into the engagement ring from the back.”
“Isn’t it beautiful?” the woman asked. “Try it on.”
“I love it!” Delphi exclaimed a moment later. “It’s perfect.”
I stepped back in surprise. Was Delphi picking out a wedding ring? Had Bob Maguire proposed?
“Athena,” Drew called out from the other end of the hallway, “there’s a customer on the phone with a question.”
I shushed him, tiptoed away from the conference room, and went into the office to take the call. When I hung up, I noticed Delphi standing in the doorway. She went to the mini-fridge and pulled out a can of sparkling water.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
She glanced at me oddly as she popped open the can. “Why? Is there a problem? Did I do something wrong?”
“No! Not at all. I just wondered how your day was going.”
“It’s fine.” She took a long swig of water, eyeing me askance. “So, when did you get here?”
“Oh, um, just now,” I stammered. “Just walked in, and Drew said there was a call for me.”
“Hmm. I heard Drew call your name, but it sounded like he was near the conference room.”
“That’s weird,” I said.
“Yeah, it is weird.” Delphi looked at her can, trying desperately to act nonchalant. “So, you weren’t near the conference room?”
“No,” I tried to say convincingly.
“You didn’t overhear anything?”
“Was there something I was supposed to have heard?”
“Nope,” Delphi answered. “Nothing at all.” She took another sip of water and walked out.
If she was about to get engaged, she sure was keeping it quiet. And I sure wasn’t going to say anything about what I’d heard. Delphi had only known Bob about a month. I couldn’t even imagine what Mama would have to say.
“Good luck, Delphi,” I whispered.