Chapter 8
Dear Natasha,
I have always loved Victorian style rooms. Over the years, I have bought a few wonderful pieces, but they never seemed right. I just got a nice bonus at my job and I’m creating my dream living room. I could use some tips to make it all work.
Ready to Redecorate in Victoria, Minnesota
Dear Ready to Redecorate,
Victorian style has evolved. Today’s Victorian room absolutely requires long drapes. Instead of dark walls, go lighter but use patterned wallpaper. Bring in as much velvet as you can on furniture and pillows. And don’t forget the big glitzy chandelier.
Natasha
The man at the door didn’t bristle at Bobbie Sue’s rough reception.
About six feet tall, he had short hair the color of mushroom soup, and a prominent brow ridge over startlingly blue eyes. He held out his arms to Bobbie Sue as if offering a hug. “Spencer called me. I’m sorry, Bobbie Sue. Really, I am.”
She recoiled and backed into me. “This isn’t a good time.”
“Is Spencer here? I think this would be a great time to remind him that he still has a dad.”
Nina and I looked at each other. A first husband we hadn’t known about? It made perfect sense. Spencer was at least six years older than Jo.
“He’s not here.” She started to close the door, but the man stepped forward and held it open with his palm.
“C’mon, Bobbie Sue. Are you really going to be a jerk at a time like this? I came to help you.”
“Too little, and way too late, Pierce.” Bobbie Sue folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t believe you, either. You’re a bigger fool than I thought if you expect me to trust your sudden act of sincerity. Now if you don’t mind . . .”
“But I do mind. Tell me where Spencer is, and I’ll pick him up. He should be with family.”
Bobbie Sue huffed, but I could see her relenting. “I don’t know where he is. He ran out of the house this morning after I told him about Tate.”
“See? You do need me. I’ll find him and bring him home.” He turned and walked out to the street. We watched as he reached into a white Jeep Wrangler with the top down. He pulled out running shoes and changed into them. With a quick glance back at us, he took off at a jog, heading toward the river.
Bobbie Sue closed the door and sagged against it. “Great. Just what I needed.”
“Tate was your second husband,” said Nina. “Spencer isn’t his son?”
“Tate wanted to adopt him, but Pierce refused. Spencer’s last name is Carver, like Pierce.” She heaved a huge sigh. “It all seems so long ago now, but it’s not. I will never forgive him. I know I’m supposed to, but what he did was completely unforgiveable. Pierce left Spencer and me. He walked out one day leaving me penniless with a toddler.” She spoke bitterly. The wounds ran deep.
“Another woman?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. Pierce wasn’t ready for the responsibilities of a family. He literally ran away. And I couldn’t even pay the rent. That was when I started baking cheesecakes at home. I didn’t need a sitter and could make my own hours. I put Spencer in a stroller and walked the streets selling cheesecakes to every restaurant I could find. Money trickled in at first, and then I started getting some regular orders. That was when I met Tate. I walked into Blackwell’s Tavern and even though it sounds corny, sparks flew when we met. I’m not joking. It was instantaneous. Love at first sight for both of us. He was everything Pierce wasn’t. Mature, dependable, fun, and such a gentleman.” She smiled wistfully. “It wasn’t his money. After Pierce left us, I was determined to have my own career and my own money. I never wanted to find myself in that situation again. I didn’t have much back then, but I was the one who insisted on a prenuptial agreement with Tate. Pierce had taught me a big lesson.”
Bobbie Sue sank onto a bench in her foyer. “Tate was always supportive of me and my business. I think he was proud of the way I managed to grow the cheesecake line. He was a great dad, too. I can’t imagine why anyone would have murdered him.” Her voice petered out at a high pitch and the tears began again.
I hated to make her situation worse, but I had to ask, “Would Pierce have wanted Tate out of the way?”
Bobbie Sue swallowed hard several times. She grasped the arm of the bench. “I don’t know. Pierce started taking more of an interest in Spencer a few years ago when he began to show athletic ability. Heaven knows he had no interest in Spencer as a child, but he started coming around again to watch Spencer in track meets.”
“Does Pierce live around here?” I asked.
“He moved to a townhouse in Alexandria a couple of years ago. It’s a quick drive for him.”
“How does Spencer feel about Pierce?” Nina asked.
Bobbie Sue sighed. “Spencer has mixed emotions about him. Tate was more of a father to Spencer than Pierce ever was, but I suppose every child is happy when a parent shows an interest. Tate and I decided it was better for Spencer to have all three of us than it would be for us to shut Pierce out of Spencer’s life. We didn’t want Spencer caught between angry parents. I held my breath, afraid Pierce would let Spencer down like he had before. Turned out I’m the only one who is truly aggravated by his continued presence. I try not to show it in front of Spencer.” She sniffled and wiped tears away with her fingers. She flapped her hand. “I can’t be bothered by Pierce right now. There are more pressing things to worry about.”
Nina and I finally took our leave. Bobbie Sue didn’t need us hanging around in her way. As we walked out the front door, two of Bobbie Sue’s neighbors walked up bearing casseroles.
“What do you think about Pierce?” whispered Nina.
“Seems like an opportunity for him to zoom back into their lives and replace Tate,” I said.
“I think so, too. People have killed for less.”
As we headed home, we cut through the alley that ran behind Tate’s restaurant. I recognized the crime scene unit van from the Alexandria police department parked near the open back door. People wearing disposable full-body coveralls came and went.
“Well, well,” said Nina. “Looks like Bobbie Sue was dead-on.”
“Wolf is no dummy. I’m sure he recognized the problems with that crime scene long before Bobbie Sue,” I said.
We slowed our pace.
“Do you see Wolf?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t see his car, either.”
“Ready to head over to Marsha’s?”
“That’s probably where Wolf is. How about we go home, take care of our pups, and hop in the shower first?”
We continued on our way home and agreed to meet in an hour.
* * *
Right on time, Nina met me on the sidewalk. Suitably presentable, we headed for Marsha’s place.
She lived in a narrow, pale yellow townhouse with a burgundy door. A lush wreath of giant silk roses hung on it.
Nina knocked and Marsha swung the door open. The rims of her eyes were red from crying.
There wasn’t much of a foyer to speak of. We were ushered into her parlor. Moss-green damask wallpaper covered the walls. Lush swag curtains in the same shade were trimmed in gold fringe and tassels. On both sides of a mostly obscured window, the drapes were long enough to puddle on the floor.
A white ceiling and heavy molding broke the overwhelming green a little bit, as did the mahogany Victorian furniture upholstered in a cream-colored velvet. It was very formal. The kind of room that made me want to sit up straight.
“Wow,” said Nina. “You’re really into Victorian décor.”
“It’s my passion. Victorian style is so romantic. I come into this room and feel like it’s embracing me.”
I could understand that. The sole window was so heavily draped that almost no daylight entered the room, which gave it a cocoon feeling. “It’s lovely,” I said. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with us. You must be devastated.”
She stared at the embroidered white handkerchief clutched in her hand and sniffled. Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath. “Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll manage without Tate. He wasn’t just my boss. He was my best friend. We had been together for so many years.”
Best friend? That concerned me. I wondered if their relationship had gone farther than that. “Bobbie Sue asked us to speak with you because you were with Tate every day. She thought you would be in the best position to know if someone had a beef with him.”
She stared at me for a long moment. “I find that pathetic. Seems like a wife would know about that. The police detective who was here asked me the same thing. When I wanted to know what was going on, he said he was following up. Just making sure it was an accident.” She gazed at me with the austere look of a schoolmarm. “Do they think someone murdered him?”
“We would like to believe it was an accident. But we don’t think that was the case,” I said.
She looked around, probably without seeing anything. It was as though she was having trouble accepting the situation and couldn’t focus. “At least Bobbie Sue had the sense to send you to me. I’m surprised she admitted that I knew him better than anyone. Even better than her.”
“He was your work-husband,” said Nina.
Marsha’s jaw clenched. Nina had clearly hit a sensitive area. I wondered how we could broach the subject of her relationship with Tate. I didn’t want her to clam up. Hopefully, she would reveal the true nature of her relationship with Tate, but we needed her to be comfortable enough with us to speak freely. “Did Tate often go to the basement to retrieve wine or champagne?”
“He was a very generous person. If a couple was celebrating an anniversary, he would bring them a bottle of champagne on the house. He also popped a bottle of champagne when employees celebrated their birthdays. It wasn’t a daily or even weekly occurrence, but he was big on celebrating the events in people’s lives. Engagements, new babies, that sort of thing.”
“Then it wasn’t unusual for him to be in the cellar?” asked Nina.
“No.” She looked at Nina like she had asked something odd. “It was his restaurant. I think some people didn’t realize that he was actually a professional chef. He was constantly in the kitchen, even though he didn’t do much of the cooking anymore. Tate was very much a hands-on owner. He was so full of life. It’s inconceivable that he’s gone.”
“When did you last see him?” I asked.
“I think it was about seven, maybe a little past. He was going to see Jo dance in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
Nina shot a look at me. “He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Did he return to the restaurant afterward?” I asked.
“Not that I know of. That was the last time I saw him.”
I leaned toward her. “I know this is difficult, but was anyone angry with him? An employee or a vendor, perhaps?”
She sucked in a deep breath. “He fired a fair number of people over the years. Always for cause, of course. It’s difficult to run a restaurant if the servers and kitchen staff don’t come to work. I have never understood why people think it’s okay to blow off their shifts. It makes it so much more difficult on everyone else because they have to pick up the slack. Trading shifts or letting us know they can’t work for a day or two for some reason, well, it’s not fun but we can deal with it. But the ones who just don’t show are always a problem. If they pull that act again without good reason—” She smiled sadly. “Tate used to tell his employees that a good reason was being in the hospital with all their fingers broken so they couldn’t use the phone.”
“He sounds like a tough boss. Had he fired anyone recently?” asked Nina.
“We have a pretty good crew at the moment. Sometimes the bartenders are aware of undercurrents. I can ask around.”
“What about girlfriends?” blurted Nina.
I froze, worried about Marsha’s reaction.
She shook her head. “I would have known about that.” Marsha stared at a little side table. “There is only one person who would have liked to eliminate Tate. Competition between restaurants can be fierce. If anyone had a hand in Tate’s death, it would be the manager of The Laughing Hound. A British guy named Bernie Frei.”