Chapter 10

 

Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest

 

 

 

Delia faced the handlebars until Nicolo stood beside her—then she sneaked a peek at him.

His eyes were on Bogart for the moment. “This is your bike, Mr. Katz?”

Delia pulled the helmet off. Hair fell into her face, and she tossed her head like she’d seen it done in commercials. “Hello, Nicolo,” she said, feigning confidence.

That’s right. I’m a biker chick.

Nicolo’s mouth took a downward dive. “Delia?” His eyes looked silvery in the lamplights. They slid over her and the bike. Then, he threw out his arm. “Do you know how fast you were going?”

“No,” she said, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin. “How fast?”

“I couldn’t catch up to you, and I was doing ninety.”

Delia frowned. “Ninety? Is that all?”

Nicolo’s frown deepened.

Bogart said, “When they say any crazy person can go fast on a motorcycle, she’s living proof.”

“Crazy? Really, Bogart?”

“You were driving like you were fleeing murder hornets!” He turned to Nicolo. “Can I go? I don’t feel so good.”

“Yes,” Nicolo told him and faced Delia again.

“Wait,” she called to Bogart. “I need to get off the bike.”

Nicolo held out his arm.

Her stomach sank. “I’ll wait for Bogart,” she said, grinning.

He grinned, too. “Bogart’s already across the parking lot.”

Delia cleared her throat. Don’t fall down, don’t fall down. She gripped his forearm, swung her foot—and fell hard against him.

Nicolo proved to be much stronger than Bogart. But, that was expected, wasn’t it? Anyone who was scared of murder hornets ought to go straight to bed.

He didn’t move at all. He just watched Delia with those silvery blue eyes.

 Delia steadied herself in her high heels and quickly changed the subject. “So you knew about the Kents?” She put her forearm on the handlebars and leaned there.

“I got the reports. I went to your apartment but then got your text. I’ve been hanging out waiting for you—until I saw something that looked like a rocket on the interstate.”

“Yes, that was me! I had no idea I’d like driving a Harley.”

 “Uh-huh. Are you going home?”

She nodded, keeping the helmet beneath her left arm.

“I’ll follow you there. I’ve got some questions for you.”

 

Delia waited for Nicolo in the parking lot of Boroughbridge House and then led the way up the stairs. She got her apartment door open, averted another escape attempt by Clawdius, and then stood aside for Nicolo to enter. She still smiled, but her eyes glanced around the room. Did I do the dishes? Did I clean up the paper from the floor? Did I leave an ice cream spoon stuck to a counter?

“I want to ask you about what happened in Shakespeare Gardens,” he said, stepping into the tiny room. In his hands was a small notebook.

“Sure,” she said, stepping out of the way—but then paused. “Oh, hey. Are we still mad at each other?”

 He paused a moment, seeming to think about it. “No.”

“Okay, good,” she said. “Sorry about the size of the apartment.”

His eyes took in the kitchen and living room stuffed with plants and twinkle lights. “It’s … charming.”

He sounded so sincere there. Oh, I forgive him for yelling at me.

“Thanks, have a seat,” she said, waving to the chair.

He took it, letting out a small sigh when he did.

Clawdius jumped onto the coffee table and stared at Nicolo. Then the cat stretched forward, put his front paws on the chair arm, and sniffed Nicolo’s hand. Reaching out, he rubbed Clawdius’ chin. Nicolo wasn’t wearing a uniform but wore jeans and a brown leather jacket. So … he hadn’t come from work.

And he’s still sighing inside. He’s upset about something.

“What’s going on, Nicolo?” she asked, tilting her head. “You seem … distracted.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I guess I am a little. Juliet married Paris today.” He didn’t look at Delia but at Clawdius.

“Oh,” she said in a softer tone. “I was there, for most of it. Were you hoping she wouldn’t go through with it, Nicolo?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 She nodded. “I think you want ice cream.”

His bottom lip curved downward, and his eyes darted toward hers. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” she told him and went into the kitchen. “I get it. I know how it feels to lose someone to another person.” She found half a carton of chocolate swirl and pulled it out of the freezer. Finding a spoon, she took him the entire container without a bowl. After handing it to him, Delia made Clawdius move over, and she sat on the table too. “You know, I’ve talked to Juliet—oh, about lots of things, but also about you, once.”

He only considered the ice cream carton in his hand.

“She told me that you and she thought you were so in love but that you never dated. Is that right?”

He took the spoon and scooped a bit of ice cream. “That is correct.”

Delia waited for a second, not sure she wanted to expound, but the misery on his face prompted her. “It was Juliet’s opinion that you two never really knew each other well enough to love each other.”

His eyes snapped up again. But then he put a large spoonful of ice cream in his mouth and shrugged his shoulders.

Delia leaned forward and clasped her hands in front of her. “If that’s true, maybe you ought to get on with your life too.”

With his mouth still full, Nicolo gave her a flat look.

It was Delia’s turn to shrug. “Just saying.”

“I’m not here to talk about Juliet.” He held up the spoon. “Or to eat ice cream. And before you start, I don’t want to talk about your text regarding Chu Hua and the Broadway Farmacy. I’ve turned the information over to the fraud division of my department.”

“Okay,” she said, sitting straighter. “You want to talk about murder.”

He froze for a second—except for the corners of his eyes. They creased for a split second and then smoothed out again. “I do.” He dropped his arm again, still holding the spoon straight up. “Why were you in Buffalo, especially if you were at Juliet’s wedding to start with?”

“Things were winding down at the reception, and Abram told me about seeing Chu Hua’s blog about Shakespeare Gardens, and it fit with the information I already had, so Bogart and I rode over on Ty’s motorcycle.”

Nicolo squinted his eyes again. “Abram Fontana?”

“Right. You’ve arrested Abram a couple of times, too, I take it.”

He gazed toward the window and then at her. “Yes. Why are you hanging out with these guys?”

She gave him a small smile. “Because the police aren’t listening to me, and Ty and Abram do. And, they give me a lot of great suggestions on how to proceed with this investigation.”

“Oh, yeah. I bet they do.” Nicolo sat straighter himself.

“Anyway, I thought it best to go when I did because Eddie was at the reception with Thomi, and I thought I could sneak away.”

Nicolo stuck the spoon into the ice cream again and lifted it out. Before putting it in his mouth, he said, “They were at the wedding, too?”

“I saw them at the reception.”

He nodded, chewing slowly.

Clawdius was practically in Nicolo’s lap now, waiting patiently for a bite.

“Were they dressed for the wedding?”

“Yes,” she told him, hugging her knee with laced fingers. “Do you think they’d just come from the murder scene?”

He shrugged and gazed at Clawdius.

“Eddie was in a suit. He’s absolutely the type of guy to kill people while wearing a suit.”

“And Thomi could kill someone wearing a dress, too,” Nicolo said, holding the curve of the spoon against his tongue and dipping his finger into the carton to give to Clawdius.

“No, she’s too neat.”

“So based on Chu Hua’s blog, you went to Buffalo? You and Humphrey Katz?”

“On Ty’s motorcycle. And please stop calling him Humphrey. I never remember that’s Bogart’s real name.” She rocked lightly. “And that wasn’t the only reason we went to the gardens. I overheard Daniel Curran talk about Shakespeare Gardens. Once, he mentioned Courtney’s name.”

“Right,” he said, finishing another spoonful of ice cream. “Where were you when you overheard the conversation? Who was Daniel speaking to?”

“Daniel was on the phone, so I didn’t see who he spoke to. Plus, I was hiding behind some shelving. At first, I thought Daniel was talking about Shakespeare Gardens in New York—Central Park. But Abram said it was in Buffalo. So off we went.”

“And found more dead people.”

“Unfortunately, yes. It wasn’t so surprising, though. The Kents have been missing for a little while now.”

He drummed his fingers on his thigh for a moment. “Is Eddie still at the wedding?”

Delia glanced into the kitchen at the clock on the stove. “It’s going on nine.” She got off the table and glanced out the window. “His car is not in the parking lot.” She turned back around. “The wedding was in Verona’s Vineyard at the big church.”

The information seemed to bother Nicolo, because he set his jaw tightly. After a few seconds, he asked, “Is Thomi’s car out there?”

She gazed out the window and saw the Orange Aztec near the end of the driveway. “Yes.”

Nicolo got off the chair, put the ice cream carton in the trashcan, and faced Delia. “Okay, we’ll go through Thomi’s car first, and then we’ll hit Eddie’s apartment.”

Delia blinked at him. “Hit?”

“Investigate.”

“Break into?”

“Whatever you want to call it, Delia. That’s fine.” He held her eyes for a moment, waiting for her to figure it out.

Oh, she did, and said, “I’ve never been more attracted to you than right now.” She was kidding. It was something she might say to Bogart. But, then again, she was speaking to Nicolo and meant every word of it.

He blinked.

She let out a small titter of a laugh.

“Don’t say things like that, Delia. Someone will take you seriously.”

I- I am serious! 

He moved toward the fire escape door and twisted the knob.

Delia stopped following. “Why are you going that way?”

 Nicolo ignored the question and stared at the knife near the doorjamb. “Why is that there?”

“In case someone’s waiting at the bottom of the steps for me. Which is stupid because I know nothing about wielding a knife.”

Nicolo nodded, picked it up, and opened the door. “Get your car keys and come on.”

Delia took the long way downstairs, on the inside, and met Nicolo next to the Aztec. He still held the knife. “Why did you bring that with you?” she asked, nodding at his hand.

“Because I don’t have a hanger in my Jeep. This will work instead.” He turned toward the other side of the lot. “Where’s yours?”

“There,” Delia said, pointing to Freddy.

“Pull it up here near Thomi’s. If she and Eddie come home, we’ll say we were just getting out of your car.”

“That is so smart,” she told him.

By the time she parked Freddy, Nicolo already had Thomi’s door open.

“Stand on the other side and watch for them to pull in.”

Delia scooted around the far side of the car and stood guard with the door open behind her.

 Pulling disposable gloves from his pocket, Nicolo slipped them onto his hands.

He just happens to carry those around with him? Maybe he’s more used to ‘hitting’ things than I imagined.

Nicolo popped the glove box open. Several items threatened to fall out, but he caught them and then sorted through the papers. “Her registration is out of date.”

Delia frowned. “Really? That’s weird.”

“Keep defending her, Delia.”

“I will. Thomi’s not the type of person to lose track of things like registrations or licenses. She’s just so caught up with Eddie right now.”

He pushed the papers back inside and slid his hand between the seats and beneath them. “Thomi is messy. There are shoes in here and food wrappers.”

Delia shook her head. “That’s strange, too.”

“You think she’s this really together woman. Obviously, she’s not. Women who have their lives together don’t fall apart when they meet a man.” He glanced up at Delia. “Is your registration up to date?”

“Of course.”

“And you have boyfriends, right? Have you lost your head over any of them?”

“Well, no …”

“You said that Eddie tried to kiss you,” he said, his eyes dipping toward her lips. “You didn’t lose your mind, did you?”

“Because he’s a murderer.”

He shut the driver’s side door and opened the back door. “Have you ever lost your head over any man?”

He’s giving me a lot of credit where men are concerned.

She shook her head. “I haven’t met the one.”

He bent forward into the car and felt the seat. “Not to keep bringing her up, but Juliet was crazy about me. Yet she didn’t change her personality over it. Stop defending your friend, Delia.”

“Okay,” she said a little breathlessly. It wasn’t as though she was moving much, but the subject was making her heart pound.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up a long silver tube.

Delia craned her neck forward, trying to see. The lights from the building highlighted the cylinder in his hand. It was a …

A chill hit her stomach. “That’s an umbrella case.”

“It was hidden between the seatback.” He slid back the casing to reveal a folded black umbrella.

“Really.” She heard herself say the words, but her voice sounded far away. Why does Thomi have Eddie’s umbrella? Did he hide it in her car? But, why would he? Eddie doesn’t know I’ve seen him use the umbrella for his gang signaling purposes. Why would that thing be in here?

Nicolo stuffed the cylinder back in between the seats and shut the door. “Do you want to move your car back to its spot?”

“No, it doesn’t matter where I park,” she told him, following him toward the apartment building again. “Can we take the regular stairs?”

He gave her a double-take and then shrugged. “Okay.”

They climbed the steps to the porch and went in through the foyer area. Nicolo gazed around the room and then turned toward the mailboxes. There were two rows of seven, beige-painted, little boxes with vents on the top. He faced them and said, “Okay, who’s who?”

She ran her finger across each labeled name, “Management, of course. This one is where the Kents lived before they disappeared. Now it’s vacant, as is Mate Oswald’s.”

Delia moved her hand and pointed to the next row. “This is Olivia Earl. Oh my goodness, she finally got rid of the agave cactus she had growing in the back of the Jeep. No one could figure that out. Here are the Kings and the Leirs.” She continued moving her finger. “You know this is Thomi Edgar, right? The Cleats are still here, and this next one is the new family. They’re Buddhists, and Clawdius steals fish off their altars.

“This one is Cornwall. They have the cutest corgis.” She moved her finger again. “Zach and Jasmine Webber. They’re new. I call them the Zebbers. Oh, and that one is Titus.”

Nicolo glanced up. “Who’s Titus?”

“He plays banjo every day at four o’clock for one hour.” She leaned against the boxes. “For the last several days, he keeps playing “You Light Up My Life” repeatedly. I think he’s going through something.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Nicolo said, moving around the wall and then up the stairs. Delia hoped no one popped out of their apartment suddenly. They’d probably wonder why a guy dressed in a leather jacket walked the halls with blue gloves on and carried a carving knife.

On the third floor, Nicolo faced her. “Okay, go on back to your apartment. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“No, no, no,” she told him. “I’m going with you.”

He didn’t budge; didn’t blink.

“I’m your lookout,” Delia reminded him.

“Okay, Miss Murder Club, come on.” He started to turn but then came back at her with his index finger up. “Don’t touch anything.”

She leaned away from him. “Okay.”

It was amazing how fast he popped Eddie’s door lock. Had he tripped a surveillance camera, though?

The room was dark, with just a tiny light on in the kitchen.

 “Go stand by the window,” Nicolo instructed. “But stay out of sight.” He shut the door when she was all the way inside, and then he moved around her; he was nothing more than a shadow.

 Delia had been in Eddie’s apartment once, a couple of weeks ago. It was after Jeanette Loring had died, and Sanya, Thomi, and Delia were inside trying to console him.

That hadn’t gone well.

But, Delia did know the furniture placement and that the living room was decorated in dark tones with leather furnishings. Near the kitchen was an aluminum sign reading BAR with little lights spelling it out. It was off at the moment—though it would be helpful now if it were turned on. Beneath the sign was an oak and metal cart with all sorts of liquor bottles lined up on it. On another wall were graphic art posters framed in black. One depicted the devil.

So, jot that down.

Delia moved and stood by the window. The parking lot was the same as it had been—Mustang-less. The only light came from the building.

Titus’ brown Dodge Dart was still in the same spot as it had been for days. The man waxed the thing every month, and he polished the chrome with tiny brushes made from vegetable fibers. Across a vacant field was the interstate where car headlights flew by like lightning bugs on their way to a slug convention.

Delia glanced at Nicolo. He was in the kitchen with his cellphone on flashlight mode, and he was going through a cereal box he’d pulled from a cabinet. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Smart guys hide their stuff in food packages. You wouldn’t believe the stuff I’ve found in a bag of Fruit Loops.” He returned the box to a kitchen cabinet and then pulled out a large container of pasta. “Aha.”

Delia leaned forward, trying to see what he’d found.

Nicolo held up his blue-gloved hand and trained the flashlight on it. Two diamond rings glistened in the light.

“What … are those engagement rings?”

Nicolo closed his hand and put the jewelry into the bag again. “Yes.”

“One for Thomi and one for Chu Hua.”

He shook his head and moved on. “This proves he’s hiding stuff, though. And, he’s smart. He doesn’t leave things out for thieves, or cops, to see.” Nicolo moved farther into the kitchen.

Delia only saw his blue glove and the flashlight beam. She turned to the window again, watching for a car to take the exit to Boroughbridge House. Suddenly, she was anxious to leave the apartment. The place smelled like Eddie: vodka, mint, and leather. She turned toward Nicolo again.

He’d moved into the living room, flashing the light onto the walls and the artwork. He ran his hand beneath the BAR sign and then put his cell phone on the cart. With his hands on either side of the bulb monstrosity, he lifted it and leaned it against the wall. He turned back around and ran his hand along—something.

“Is it a personal safe?”

“No, it’s an electrical box.” He opened it. “Here we go.”

Delia glanced through the window once more and then to Nicolo. “What? What is it?”

He pulled out a slip of paper and lifted his phone again. “Birth certificate.”

Delia let out a little gasp. “What’s it say? What’s his real name?”

“Edmund Chester.” He flipped the certificate over and studied the back of it.

Delia slumped against the wall. “You were right. He’s Chester.”

“I don’t know. This looks fake to me.” Folding the paper, he put it in his jacket pocket.

“You’re taking it?”

“Yes. Eddie can always buy another one.”

Delia widened her eyes and stared at the parking lot again. Nicolo was a surprising man. She’d always thought he was by-the-books strict. When she glanced in his direction again, he was already returning the bar sign to the wall hooks. Then he disappeared around the corner, either to the bath area or bedroom.

Delia followed him.

 She stood in the doorway between the bedroom and bath.

Nicolo stuck his head around the corner and waved a bottle of bleach in front of Delia. “It’s fake, and there is at least a thousand dollars inside.”

He vanished again. Delia heard him rummaging through—pill bottles, maybe. The blue glove and flashlight came her way. “Watch the window in here.”

They moved into Eddie’s bedroom.

Delia had never been inside and didn’t know the furniture placement. Her shin found the edge of the bed, though.

“Ow!”

 “Shh,” he admonished. “You can see the window, can’t you? Go that way.”

“Wow, is that anyway to talk to your lookout?”

 She saw the window, yes, but only because there was a small light coming from the edges of the blackout curtains. She gently lifted one of the panels and gazed into the parking lot again. Still no Eddie.

Delia turned and watched Nicolo again.

He shone his flashlight into the air vent near the floor and checked wall sockets and light switch panels. He opened the closet and checked suit coats and pant pockets.

Out of one of them, he pulled a book of matches and held it up. “Well-Crafted?” he asked.

“What’s that?”

“Does Eddie smoke?”

“I don’t think so,” Delia told him.

Nicolo slipped the matches into his jeans pocket and moved to the back of the closet. He pushed his hands against the walls.

After another four or five minutes, he moved back into the living room. “I’m confiscating the pills I found in the toilet paper roll holder.”

“What sort of pills?”

“Looks like Oxycodone,” he said, whispering. “But I’ll turn them over to narcotics to have them identified.”

Delia stood near the window. It started to rain again, but heavier. Pellets hit the pane. She leaned toward the glass and saw Eddie’s Mustang was parked next to Titus’ Dodge.

Her heart jumped. “Eddie’s here.”