Chapter 17
Dear Natasha,
My daughter-in-law makes pancakes for my son from a mix! How do I let her know that’s not acceptable?
Appalled Mom in Egg Harbor City, New Jersey
Dear Appalled Mom,
Put together a gift basket with everything she needs to make pancakes. And then show her how to make them. While you’re there, surreptitiously throw out her mix. Now she won’t have an excuse not to cook fresh pancakes.
Natasha
I wasn’t worried that Wanda would succumb to Karl’s devious southern charms. He had clearly turned her off. Or maybe Orson had told her things about Karl. Remembering his unpleasant prognostication, I double checked to be sure all my doors were locked that night before I went to bed. Nevertheless, his words kept me from sleeping. He had uttered them in a way that precluded witnesses. Had he made similar threats to Orson? Perhaps beginning way back when they were in business together? I would leave a partner like that. Did he have a dark side? Dark enough to murder? Or did he like to scare other people to get his way? I had encountered that before. I hoped it was the latter and drifted off to a fitful sleep.
On Monday morning, I walked Daisy early to avoid the heat that would blast us later in the day. Wanda was outside, planting a rosebush beside Natasha’s garden gate.
“Good morning!”
Wanda jerked and looked around. “Oh, it’s you, Sophie. I swear I have been on edge ever since Orson’s death. Griselda says I have nothing to worry about. The way Orson left me money, in a trust, means nobody will benefit from my death. Do you think that’s true?”
I assumed that the remainder of the money would go to someone. Probably a charity. If that were the case, someone at the charity might want to do her in, but that was unlikely. To ease her mind, I said, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
She took a deep breath. “That Karl is a real number. I thought I’d never get rid of him. I can’t imagine what he thinks he’ll get from me.”
“He told me Orson had secrets. Do you know anything about that?”
“I imagine we all have secrets, honey. I have a few of my own. Nothing that would interest anyone else, I guess.”
“Why, Wanda!” I said in a teasing tone. “You’re such an open person that I never pegged you for secrets.”
She giggled. “Everybody has got some. If you promise not to tell Natasha, I’ll share one with you.”
How could I pass up an offer like that? “Okay. It’s a deal.”
Wanda grinned. “I cannot abide Pineapple Upside-Down Cake. Somewhere along the way, Natasha got the notion that it’s my favorite and she bakes it for my birthday every year.”
“You never told her?”
“Well, when she was little, I thought it was the sweetest thing that she baked me a cake and I didn’t want to discourage her. Then she moved up here and I got a break for many years. Now she’s back to baking them again. She just made one to comfort me after Orson’s death. I’m not going to say a word. You know how sensitive she is. I’m trusting you not to tell her!”
I laughed. “Such a dark secret!”
Wanda’s shoulders shook with mirth.
At that exact moment, Natasha joined us in full makeup and beautifully dressed. “What’s going on out here?”
Wanda gazed at me with wide eyes.
“I was just asking Wanda if Orson had any secrets.”
Natasha looked at her mother. “Did he?”
“I imagine so. You don’t get to our age without a thing or two you’d rather keep under wraps.”
Natasha eyed her mother suspiciously.
I spoke quickly to avoid an argument between them. “It’s just that Karl mentioned something about deep, dark secrets. I don’t know if he was full of hot air or if there’s something Orson was hiding.”
“Ohhh, that Karl! I believe he likes to agitate people.” Natasha appeared to be relieved. “Do you think Orson had another woman on the side?”
“Natasha! What a terrible thing to say. Don’t go around telling people that. They’ll think it’s true.” Wanda shook her forefinger at her daughter. “Not to mention that it’s bad luck to speak ill of the dead.”
I had a feeling Wanda might chance some bad luck if she knew about the photographs of the five young women in Orson’s secret room. Maybe that was what Karl was talking about. Could he know about the secret room in the antiques store?
“If you think of anything, Wanda, let me know. It could be an important lead in finding his killer.”
Daisy and I headed home. I suspected that I should have oatmeal for breakfast, but it seemed like a wintery thing to me. Pancakes were good any time of year and I had just bought fresh strawberries.
Mars jogged toward Daisy and me. “You’re up early.”
“It’s going to be a scorcher. Coffee?”
“I would love a cup.”
I unlocked the door as Bernie strode up. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “Mars, Senator Petrony is trying to reach you.” He handed Mars a cell phone. “I thought I might find you here. Morning, Sophie.”
Mars took the phone and excused himself.
“I think he forgets his phone intentionally when he runs in the morning.”
“That would be like Mars.” I mimicked his voice, “Sometimes I need to turn everything off.”
“Pancakes?” I asked.
“Sounds good.” Bernie opened the fridge and took out eggs while I boiled water for coffee.
By the time Mars returned from the sunroom, pancakes were sizzling, and the scent of coffee filled the air from my French press.
“Problems?” I set the table with Roy Kirkham oversize china coffee cups in the Alpine Strawberry pattern and matching plates.
“Always,” he grumbled as he poured coffee for the three of us. “I guess I shouldn’t complain. It means they need me. If there weren’t problems, I’d be out of a job.”
Daisy stood next to a counter and looked from Mars to the counter repeatedly.
Mars chuckled and opened a cookie jar. “Would you like a cookie, Daisy?”
Her tail swished across the floor, and she raised her right paw to shake.
“She has us so well trained.” I fixed her breakfast and set it on the floor. Mochie waited by his empty bowl. I opened a can of Savory Salmon and spooned some into the bowl. “I’m glad you two came by this morning. I was wondering if you made any progress with the women in the pictures.”
We sat down to eat our pancakes with maple syrup and fresh berries.
Bernie swallowed a bite of his pancakes, nodding his head. “Riley Hooper was waiting for someone in the restaurant bar last night. I mentioned how sad it was that Orson had passed away. She agreed, but she didn’t seem particularly sad about it. She told me a little story, though. Apparently, one of her nephews was in hot water with Riley’s mother. He and his brother were roughhousing and broke one of Grandma’s antique chairs. She was furious. You know the drill. ‘How many times do I have to tell you not to wrestle in the house?’ Riley found an old picture of the chair and took it to Orson to see if he had one like it. He didn’t, but about six months later, he called and asked if she was still looking for a replacement. He had spotted one at an auction and bought it with Riley in mind. It turned out to be a perfect match, so everyone lived happily ever after.”
Mars sipped his coffee. “He had a reputation for being a sharp businessman. A lot of people wouldn’t have bothered to look beyond their current inventory for that chair. That’s the kind of service that brings people back.”
Bernie nodded. “She had no complaints. Only good things to say about him.”
“What does she do?” I asked.
“She works at the Social Security Administration. Her mom struggled to raise her on her own and pressured Riley to get a government job because you can’t beat the benefits.”
“I was supposed to talk with Cheryl Mancini.” Mars helped himself to another pancake. “Can I get anyone a pancake while I’m up?”
Bernie handed Mars his plate.
When Mars sat down, he said, “Turns out Cheryl was Stella’s best friend growing up. She lived across the street from the Chatsworths, so the girls often slept over at each other’s houses. Orson was the kind of dad who brought home surprises like puppies and kittens. He took them for ice cream, drove them to the mall and waited for them while they shopped, and, get this, got them tickets to concerts where he discreetly watched over them without being the embarrassing dad. Cheryl didn’t have a dad and thought that was how all dads were.”
“No wonder people are surprised that he left the store to Sophie.” Bernie popped a strawberry in his mouth.
“It’s not the first time I’ve heard about him being a doting dad. But none of this explains why he had their photographs.” I studied Mars and Bernie. “Under what circumstances would you two make a little board like that with women’s photos on it?”
“Eww. Ick. What kind of heathens do you think we are?” asked Bernie.
“That’s my point. I know you wouldn’t do that for revolting reasons. So what kind of good reason would there be to do that?”
“One of them committed a crime?” Mars said in a tentative tone. “Maybe one of them fit the description of a criminal?”
Bernie perked up. “That could be true. Maybe someone stole something from the store, and they all match the description.”
“So far, it appears that he knew them. He would have recognized the thief,” I said.
“Not if he wasn’t there. What if that was the description one of his employees gave him?” said Mars.
“Okay. Maybe. I can see how that might happen.” But I wasn’t at all confident that was the case. “I thought I might see if I can talk to Doreen Donahue today.”
Bernie grinned. “Want me to come with you?”
I shot him a quizzical look. “Is there something I should know about her?”
“She’s . . . different.”
“You’re welcome to come along. Do you know where she lives?”
“I suspect so.”
“What does that mean?”
“She moves around. One o’clock?”
“That works for me.”
I cleared the table, Bernie washed the dishes, and Mars dried them. The kitchen was clean in no time. When they left, I watered the flowers in my flower boxes and the veggies in the garden. After a shower, I changed into a sleeveless periwinkle linen dress and walked over to Ronin’s office.
When I opened the door, Ronin’s receptionist said, “Good morning, Ms. Winston. How is Rosebud doing?”
“She’s great. Nina is still working on a home for her, but Rosebud has settled into Nina’s household nicely.”
Ronin appeared in a doorway. “Right on time. I like that in a person. Come on in.”
Ronin’s office was nicely furnished with leather furniture. A tall window overlooked a garden. I took a seat across from him.
“Do you have questions about Orson’s will?”
“Sort of. What I’d really like to know is whether he left me any instructions.”
Ronin rubbed his chin. “Orson was an unusual client. I won’t pretend that I was surprised when he told me you would receive the store. I imagine he had his reasons.”
I nodded. That was for sure. He hoped I would find his killer. I wasn’t sure I could reveal anything to Ronin. Orson hadn’t mentioned him in the letter that he left me. “Did he say anything about why he left the store to me?”
“He did not, and I didn’t question him. It didn’t seem like it was any of my business. But he did tell me one thing. And I remember it as clear as if it were yesterday. He said, ‘Sophie will know what to do.’ And he repeated that in the video he made.”
“I appreciate his faith in me.”
“Are you here because you don’t know what to do?”
“I understand part of it but not the whole picture. He wanted to speak to me the next day, but then he died. Did he indicate what that might have been about?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Thank you for taking the time to see me.”
“I don’t think I’ve been much help.”
“If anything comes to mind, if you recall him saying anything unusual, would you give me a call?”
“Of course.”
I said good-bye and left Ronin’s office wondering what I was overlooking. I felt as if Orson had left me a puzzle with pieces missing.