Chapter 33
Dear Natasha,
Would you suggest a menu for a Fourth of July party? You have such excellent taste and undeniable style. I would love to know what you would serve.
Your Fan in Independence, Iowa
Dear Fan,
I am so glad that you asked. Stuffed jalapeños, wrapped in bacon and grilled. Charred prosciutto-wrapped melon. The main course would be grilled mushroom, artichoke, and Chilean sea bass kebabs with a homemade Tabasco and cayenne sauce. Roasted broccolini salad with chopped cherry peppers and feta, and Roquefort potatoes. And for dessert, an elegant New York style cheesecake decorated with whipped cream, strawberries, and blueberries.
Natasha
A figure moved in the shadows of the garage.
“Stop! Who’s there?” yelled Bernie.
“Don’t shoot!” cried a voice that I recognized.
“Spencer?”
He emerged from the shadows, holding his hands up in the air like he was in a movie.
I assured Wolf that everything was fine and disconnected the call. “What are you doing here? I thought you went fishing.”
Bernie smiled at him. His voice was soft and reassuring when he said, “You can put your hands down.”
Spencer walked out of the garage. “The trip fell through. Neither one of us wanted to go. Mom’s gonna be really mad. I didn’t want to go home. I knew she’d look for me at my friends’ houses and”—he tilted his head and gazed away—“I don’t know. You’ve been pretty nice. I thought you might not mind if I camped out in your backyard.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all. You’re welcome to stay at my house, but I think your mom will flip out if she can’t find you. Let’s go inside and call her.”
He followed us in, and Daisy went bananas over him. He rubbed her ears and crouched to pet her. I thought it was the first time I had seen him look happy.
“Would you like some iced tea? It’s hot out there.”
“Sure. That would be awesome.” Spencer sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace and focused on Daisy and Mochie.
“They like you,” I said, pouring the tea into tall glasses filled with ice cubes.
“I like dogs and cats. I’ve always wanted one.”
I handed him and Bernie tea and sat down opposite Spencer.
He stared at Bernie. Frowning, he asked, “Aren’t you the dude that killed my dad?”
“No. I’m the one they arrested for killing your dad, but I didn’t kill him.” Bernie, to his credit, appeared composed.
Spencer gazed at me. “Is that true? My mom said they had caught the murderer.”
“I’m afraid not.”
He took a long drink and seemed to be considering the situation. “But what about the blood on your car?”
Bernie remained cool and collected. He sat in a chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. “Someone took my car keys and the car. But here’s the thing—other than a little blood, your dad’s DNA isn’t inside my car. They found Sophie’s DNA, they even found Daisy’s DNA, but there’s no evidence that your dad was actually in the back of my car. The blood in the front is only on the driver’s seat. It’s Tate’s blood, but no one thinks he was driving the car.”
“Then the killer must have had a tarp or something.”
Bernie grinned. “Tate would be proud of you. But where’s the tarp?”
Spencer shifted uneasily and licked his lips. “I believe you. Someone else killed Dad.” His lower lip trembled. “I played in some of those games between the restaurants. My dad liked you. I don’t think I was wrong about that. We had fun.” His forehead wrinkled. “I rehearsed what I was going to say on the way over here but now I don’t know where to start.” Suddenly he blurted, “I’m the reason my dad was murdered.”
Chills ran through me. He’d said the reason, not that he murdered Tate. I asked gently, “Are you Worried in Old Town?”
His eyes widened with recognition. “How’d you figure that out?”
“I saw the stationery in Jo’s bedroom. She’s not old enough to write a note like that. Is this about what you saw at the restaurant?”
He nodded and shifted uneasily. “I hope it’s okay that I came here. My girlfriend and best friend are away. Jo is too young to understand. Mom has been flipping out since Dad died. I can’t talk to her about anything. I couldn’t talk to Pierce about Dad because it annoyed him. I guess it makes him feel bad that he wasn’t the father to me that Tate was. And now he might die, too.”
“You could always call your aunt Belinda.”
“Blabbermouth Belinda? No, thanks! And I’m not being mean. Even my dad called her that behind her back. She can’t stop talking.”
I smiled. “There’s at least one in every family.”
“I’m not a restaurant genius or anything. Dad had me going in early before everybody else to check and accept food deliveries. There’s a whole routine, picking up the top vegetables to make sure rotten ones aren’t hidden underneath. Checking the bottoms of the boxes to be sure they’re not wet, stuff like that.”
Bernie smiled at him and nodded.
“Then I was supposed put them away. For the most part, it went okay. I was usually the first one there, and Marsha came in after me. She was supposed to be training me about meat and fish. I’m pretty good at picking fruits and vegetables, stuff like that, but meat and fish are a little different. I got my food handling certificate and everything, but if you don’t know what you’re doing, it’s easy to accept the wrong cuts of meat.”
He took a long sip of his iced tea, and I refilled his glass.
“When I started, I just went along with whatever Marsha said. But after a while, I noticed that she always sent me to do something else when the fish delivery came. She let me accept the beef and pork. She didn’t even double-check it. But every day when the fresh fish came, she sent me somewhere. ‘Go upstairs and see if your dad is here yet. Go check to see if all the bathrooms were cleaned. Refill all the salt and pepper shakers.’ I’m not saying that stuff didn’t need to be done, but the timing was weird.” He leaned his head forward and looked up at us. “I started spying on her. I know that’s wrong, but I had this feeling that she was up to no good. Like a sixth sense or something. I guess I should have done things differently. But I didn’t know it would turn out like this!”
“It’s okay,” I said as soothingly as I could. “What happened?”
“You’ve been there. You know how it is in the alley where the trucks stop to unload their deliveries. There’s no place you can hide, unless it fills up with cars, so I went upstairs to Marsha’s office because there’s a window that overlooks the alley. I opened it just a little bit so I could hear what was going on. The window creaked and I was afraid they would hear me, but I guess they didn’t. At least, I didn’t see them look up at me or anything. He handed her money. Cash. A lot of it. And he said very clearly, ‘Nice haul. Those fish specials of yours are paying off.’ And then he kissed her!”
“So she’s getting a kickback,” said Bernie. “They probably bill high, and then they give her part of the extra profit.”
Spencer nodded. “That’s what I guess.”
So that was what I had seen earlier. “You think your dad got wind of it and that’s why he was murdered?” I asked.
Spencer groaned. “He didn’t get wind of it. I told him.” He winced. “I told him the day he died. I think he must have confronted Marsha and that’s why he was murdered. I don’t know if it was Marsha or the fish guy or some henchmen that they paid.”
Unfortunately for Spencer, it was the most plausible theory yet.
“You have to tell Wolf,” I said, reaching for my phone.
“No!” Spencer looked at me in horror. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” asked Bernie.
“Because I’m not supposed to talk to him.”
“He is underage,” I pointed out.
“Mom told me not to say a word to Wolf or any cops unless our lawyer was present. Did . . . did I mess up by telling you?”
“No, Spencer. You did the right thing. Wolf will probably need to talk with you, but we’ll make sure your lawyer is with you when it happens.” I took a deep breath. “Now, about camping out. You are welcome to stay here but only if it’s okay with your mom.”
Spencer cringed. “You know what she’ll say.”
“What about camping in Pierce’s room overnight? I bet Bobbie Sue could use a break.”
He nodded and pulled out his phone. “I could do that.” When Bobbie Sue answered, we heard her shriek, “Where are you?” Spencer held the phone away from his ear. Bobbie Sue didn’t stop. “Your father was just murdered and then you go and disappear? I thought he had killed you, too. I’m sending Coach to pick you up. Where are you?”
Spencer said calmly, “I’ll meet him at the house in half an hour.”
“Spencer! That is not acceptable. Where—” Spencer stared at the phone and disconnected the call.
“A little trick my dad taught me,” he said. “Makes her mad, but she’s already mad so it doesn’t really make a difference.”
Bernie and I exchanged a glance. I didn’t blame Bobbie Sue. She had loved Tate. He was obviously her rock. With his death, her life had gone haywire. The last thing she needed was for her children to disappear.
Spencer collected his things. “I guess it was a good thing Mom wouldn’t let me go back to work, huh? Now we have to be on the lookout for Marsha and that fish guy.”
Bernie and I accompanied him to the door. “Are you sure you’re okay walking home?”
He grinned. “I can outrun Marsha and that guy any day.”
“What did he look like?” I asked, wondering if he was the same fellow I had seen.
“Tall, trim, black hair, kind of tanned skin,” he said.
I just nodded. It sounded like the same guy all right.
Bernie shook hands with him. “For the record, your dad and I were mates. I’m going to miss him.”
Spencer murmured, “Thanks.”
As he walked away, I said, “Be safe!”
He passed Humphrey, Francie, and Duke, who walked up just as a gentleman delivered Chinese takeout. Bernie had ordered enough Chinese dishes to feed a dozen people.
I whispered to him, “We don’t mention that it’s Spencer who saw Marsha taking a kickback?”
Bernie nodded. “I think that’s wise. I don’t want anyone after him. But we will tell Wolf, right?”
“I’ll call him.”
Bernie wasted no time setting the food on my kitchen table. “Moo shu pork, lemon chicken, General Tso’s chicken, beef with snow peas, Peking duck, Szechuan green beans and broccoli, and double shrimp lo mein,” he announced.
Nina, Muppet, and Mars arrived simultaneously.
I hurried to put out knives and forks, but Bernie stopped me. “It’s all chopsticks tonight!”
Nina got to work making piña coladas and pouring wine. Bernie poured sparkling water for the two of us.
I slipped away to my office to phone Wolf. His cell rolled over to voicemail. Good thing it wasn’t an emergency. I left a message. “Call me. There’s been a development you need to know about.”
I hurried back to the kitchen. When we sat down to eat, Bernie lifted his glass and said, “To my friends, who have stood behind me and never doubted me.”
Lifting my glass, I felt a little guilty about my moments of doubt when I found out Bernie had lied to me. But even then, I couldn’t truly imagine that he had murdered Tate.
Everyone spoke at once and started passing around the food that Bernie had ordered.
Francie asked, “Was that Bobbie Sue’s son I saw leaving your house?”
I assured her that it was. Skipping the part about the dreadful blisters, Nina and I told them what happened to Pierce.
And then Bernie and I filled them in about Marsha taking kickback money from the fish guy.
Just as I had gotten a good grip on some lo mein and was lifting it to my mouth, a sad face looked in the kitchen door. Natasha stood there like she was posing for a neglected orphan photo. All she needed was rain.
I opened the door. “Come in and join us, Natasha.” I handed her a plate. “The moo shu pork is delicious.”
“You’re all here together? Without me?”
My heart went out to her until she said, “I see you’re dining with Tate’s killer.”