Curtains for the Condo Casanova, page 5
Time to move on to her other assignment. “Actually, I stopped by for another reason.”
He cocked his head, apparently not expecting more. “Okay? How can I help you?”
“I assume you’ve heard about the murder of one of the complex’s residents, Drake Elliot?”
“Who hasn’t? It was the topic of coffee hour this morning. Weekday mornings, a group of us guys get together at that little grocery store down the road. They have a small café and the best coffee around. Anyway, Jim Purvis had been out walking his dog about seven this morning when he saw first one and then several police cars barrel into the parking lot out front. They wouldn’t let him get closer than a hundred feet from where they were swarming, but he managed to gather the major gist of what had happened.”
“I understand the victim, Elliot, had a condo here in the building?”
“Moved in sometime in the last year,” he replied.
“What do you know about him?”
Tom scratched his jaw. “Curious question. Don’t you want to know more about the murder?”
“You’d think so, but the thing is the police have already visited at least one of our fellow condo owners, and she thinks they were paying her more than passing attention. I agreed to nose around a bit and see if she has reason to be concerned.”
Tom lifted a brow. “They’d only have reason to pay attention to her if she was somehow involved.”
“That sounds quite reasonable to you and me, but we weren’t seeing him socially the past few months.”
“Oh. Wow.” He scrunched up his face, apparently processing what she’d just revealed. “Funny, I don’t recall hearing any scuttlebutt about his love life since he moved in. Seemed a little strange since the guy was the type who would’ve appealed to the manhunters around here. I rarely ran into him, so I haven’t thought much more about him since I first met him at some party.”
“I should mention that anything I tell you or that we discuss from here on is confidential. Is that okay with you?
“Uh, sure. I guess. How did you get involved in all this? You haven’t even been here a week.” Then he blinked, a light coming on in his eyes. “Wait. Surely you don’t think you can play Letitia Carruthers, PI, here in Minnesota?”
She waved off his question. “No, no. If anyone is aware how much I’m no longer the great detective, it’s me. But convincing the crowd around here is another story. All I plan to do is ask a few questions. The kind a visitor might ask.”
“Is Kitty involved in this?” he asked, worry underlying his tone.
“She knows about it, and I’ve told her I didn’t need her help,” Marla replied a little too fast.
Tom nodded. “You may have said as much to her, but don’t assume that was enough to keep her uninvolved.”
She laughed, hopefully dismissing his concern, although she still had qualms herself. “Thanks for the warning. But let’s forget about Kitty for now. Tell me what else you know about Elliot.”
“Nothing else. Didn’t have much to do with the guy and don’t know of any gossip about him.”
She sank into the sofa cushions. “You disappoint me. I was under the impression you knew a little something about everyone in this building. Kitty told me you were on the social committee.”
He snorted. “Dear Marla, the first thing you need to learn in your investigation is that there’s the social committee and then there’s the underground singles alliance. My name for the latter.”
“Sounds like you’re not a fan of that group? Too much competition with your committee?”
“Don’t I wish. No, apparently the events my group organizes are too tame for the singles who are out to end that status.”
“Tame? Sounds rather kinky. Is it? Don’t you attend their events? You’re a single, aren’t you?”
“Widower the last ten years. I went to one or two a while back out of curiosity to learn what my committee wasn’t offering.”
“And?”
“Mainly they sorted out the singles from the couples and older people who attend events held by the social committee. Other than that difference, those gatherings were pretty tame themselves. Most of the singles in this building are over forty-five. More likely, they’re in their late fifties and early sixties. Younger singles tend to gravitate to the apartments on the other side of town.”
“What about the guys you said you have coffee with? Has anyone there ever talked about Drake Elliot?”
“Not very often.” He stopped. Rubbed his jaw again. “There was some discussion about him when he first moved in, but that was months ago. I’m not sure I can remember what was said.”
“Try. It could be important.”
He closed his eyes and made several faces as he apparently attempted to recall what he’d heard months before. He suddenly blinked his eyes open. “One of the guys, Jim Purvis, I think, the guy who found the body, said he mentioned something about investments. Not his current portfolio. We all talk about those. Several think they’re amateur day traders.” He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t about our stuff. Gimme another minute. It’s starting to come back to me.”
Marla attempted to wait as patiently as possible. She sensed Tom knew more than he realized.
“Oh, yes. Now I remember. A chance to buy in. But Jim was sharp enough to recognize that supposed casual reference to this deal for what it was, a hook.”
“I take it he didn’t jump?” she asked.
“Jim told us he didn’t outright turn down Elliot. He dismissed it, acted like it was some pipe dream of Elliot’s and he was blowing smoke. And Elliot was shrewd enough to let it go, although Jim didn’t see the man in the fitness room again.”
“What about Elliot and the ladies, the ladies in the building? Did you pick up on any intel about that?”
“Early on, some of the guys asked if any of the rest of us had met the new guy in town. All four of them except me had run into him one way or another. The general consensus was that he was definitely competition for the single ladies in the complex and to keep our distance from him because he seemed to be some sort of wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He seemed on the up-and-up, but Jim suspected he could be trouble if he continued to hit up other residents about his investment opportunities as he had him.”
“Thanks. That was a big help.”
“Yeah? Sounds like you know something more. Gonna share?”
“I’m not at liberty to reveal very much at this time, but let’s just say your coffee pals seem to have been right on the mark.”
Deep lines furrowed the bridge of his nose. “Then his murder somehow involved money?”
“I don’t know for sure, but it looks like it.”
“Be careful, Marla,” he said, his tone becoming even more serious. “I’m sure you already know this, but what you’re getting yourself into isn’t one of your weekly crimes you can solve in an hour.”
“I’m well aware of that, but I’ll be extra careful now that you’ve warned me.”
“And Marla? I’m always here if you need more information or just a hand to hold.”
six
Marla returned to Kitty’s condo and went directly to the fridge and opened a can of Diet Coke. She hoped the caffeine would sharpen her brain as she processed what she’d learned so far about Drake Elliot from Scottie and Tom Casey.
“If your bad habits are the same as the old days, you’ve got a lot on your mind and are relying on that beverage to help you think,” Kitty said from the kitchen entrance.
“Wouldn’t you say Scottie’s case qualifies?”
Kitty was about to let it go when another thought hit her. “But you were drinking it before Scottie came calling. Something else is troubling you. Out with it, sis.”
Sometimes her sister could be right on point when it came to reading her. But that didn’t mean she had to respond. “Let’s save that discussion for another day. Right now, my brain has enough to contend with trying to find out who killed Drake Elliot. I just talked to Tom Casey.”
“And?”
“And he was somewhat helpful. I got his take on as much as he could remember hearing about Elliot per the impressions of the guys in his coffee klatch. Although it appeared to echo what Scottie told us about being approached to invest in some project, he didn’t shed any more details on what we already knew.” She didn’t mention Tom’s warning to be careful. It didn’t take much to trigger Kitty’s imagination.
“You should probably talk to Rex Alcorn,” Kitty said.
Rex? Not that guy. “Why him?”
“Rex knows everything that goes on in this building.”
That was a surprise. When he’d come to her rescue letting her into Kitty’s condo, he gave the impression of wanting to leave as soon as he could escape. “He seemed so taciturn when I met him.”
“He was a police officer for years. It was his job to observe.”
Marla set down the can. “I heard something to that effect from Scottie when she let me into the building, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. It doesn’t surprise me he was a cop even though he didn’t say he was.”
“He doesn’t advertise it. He told me once he learns more that way.”
“What do you think he’d say about my agreeing to look into this murder?”
Kitty considered. “He’d probably advise against proceeding further.”
Rather diplomatic for Kitty. “Why didn’t Scottie go to him instead of me?”
Kitty leaned in and took a sip from Marla’s can. “With his police background, she was probably worried he’d advise going to them.”
Marla filed away that tidbit.
“Given that, I’ll skip talking with Rex for now. Maybe if I need to run something by him, I’ll ask for his advice.”
“If not Rex, who do you plan to interview next?” Kitty asked.
“Who would you suggest?”
“As it just so happens, there’s a wine and cheese party tomorrow night for the singles crowd in the building. I could get us an invite if you want?”
Tom Casey hadn’t mentioned anything about a wine and cheese party. “Will it be a repeat of the book club, where I get bombarded with questions about Letitia?”
“Maybe. A little. Although some of the women who’ll be there were at the book club lunch and already got their chance to question you. As for the guys, I couldn’t begin to predict how they’ll react. But it’s the best option I can come up with right now.”
Marla had managed to get through the bombardment of questions at the book club lunch, but she needed more ammunition when she faced this larger group.
“At least you won’t have to address the whole group at once,” Kitty said. “You can decide which individuals you want to zero in on and move from person to person.”
“Okay, that’s good news,” Marla replied, debating how she could make the most of these small group settings.
Kitty went off to shower and change for dinner with a friend. Most likely a male friend, but Marla didn’t ask. Instead, she turned her attention to what she’d wear to the party the next night. Probably not necessary, but making the right impression the first- time meeting some of these folks could enhance the quality of information she could glean from them.
She’d narrowed her choices down to a brown jersey sheath and a silver-gray pantsuit when Kitty entered with her phone in hand. “It’s for you. It’s Patty Goodhue. She didn’t have your number.” She handed her phone to Marla and moved two feet to the side.
Patty Goodhue? Wasn’t she one of the women at the book club lunch? Which one? She couldn’t recall. “Hello?”
“Let— Marla, thanks for taking my call. Do you have dinner plans tonight? You didn’t get much to eat the other day what with all of us so interested in your life in Hollywood. I’d like to treat you to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants to make up for it. Sorry for the late invite. Please say yes. I promise I’ll put my fangirl questions aside.”
Kitty, who could hear everything Patty said, had a funny expression on her face. Something between surprise and concern. Marla quickly thought through the possible reasons she could give for turning down the invitation. Then it occurred to her that maybe Patty might know something about Drake Elliot. “Okay,” she said before she changed her mind.
She didn’t dare glance at Kitty, who pounced as soon as Marla returned her phone. “Why did you say yes? Didn’t you see my face and my head shaking?”
“You’re the one who’s been encouraging me to get out and meet people. What’s wrong with Patty Goodhue?”
Kitty released a breath. “What’s wrong with her? You tell me what’s wrong with having dinner with the wife of the chief of police.”
Marla sat down on the bed. “Police chief, as in the same folks who’re investigating the murder?”
“The one and the same,” Kitty replied.
“Do you think her invitation is connected to the case? Surely police chiefs don’t send their wives out to dinner to investigate potential suspects. Plus, I’m not a suspect. I never met the man.”
“No, of course not. But I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Be careful with what you tell her, and especially don’t mention what you promised Scottie. Or anything about Scottie.”
“No, I won’t.”
She had to keep reminding herself of that pledge as she dined with Patty.
She didn’t remember who Patty was until the woman picked her up at the building entrance at her favorite portico. Patty was the first woman she met at the luncheon. The one with the ash-blond ponytail who had started gushing the moment Marla arrived. Her hair was drawn back in a loose bun this evening.
“I appreciate your accepting my late-notice invitation,” she told Marla later at the restaurant as they eyed their menus.
“I appreciate your thinking of me,” Marla replied, trying to keep her response general.
“I told you the other day that you did so much as Letitia to help me as a woman over fifty. Which was true, although I didn’t say why.”
Marla waved it away. “Not necessary.”
“Oh, but it is. You see, I was widowed in my late thirties with two young children to raise. I’d worked as a teaching assistant before I was married but quit once the children arrived. My husband had provided well for us, both in life and in death. It’s not like I had to work, but I had to learn how to deal with our finances overnight. It was overpowering. Quite a struggle. I had the kids to keep me going until they got older, and then suddenly it was just me.
“I floundered a bit until about six years ago when I started watching your show. It spoke to me. I’m a little bit younger than you but not by much. I realized I needed something more in my life. Something exciting. That turned out to be working as an administrative assistant to a lieutenant with the St. Paul police department. My boss was Colman Goodhue—newly divorced Colman Goodhue—and despite what they tell you and caution about office romances, I fell hard for him. And it was mutual.
“During that time, I continued to watch your show. I couldn’t stop talking about it. I told him how it had brought me out of a multiyear funk, and that got him watching it. It didn’t take long for him to become a fan as well.”
It never failed to surprise her when viewers told her how the show had affected them personally, even though that was one of her driving goals an actress. The setbacks of the last several months aside, admissions like this were powerful stuff that shouldn’t be taken lightly. When Patty stopped and there was a lull in the conversation, Marla felt compelled to say something. “Thank you for telling me that, Patty. I still appreciate hearing how Letitia impacted people’s lives.”
Patty put down her menu and gazed directly at her. “I have something to confess. I invited you to join me for another reason.”
Uh-oh. She wanted help contacting someone in LA. It didn’t happen often, but that kind of request arose on occasion. Marla had developed a standard reply. “Oh? What would that be?”
“My husband wants to join us.” She stared down at her clasped hands. “He works for the Maple Knolls police department. In fact, he’s the chief.”
Might as well cut to the chase. “Is this about the murder of Drake Elliot?”
Patty had the grace to blink. “You, uh, already know about that. Of course, news like murder can sweep quickly through a residential building like yours.” She held up a hand. “Please don’t be alarmed. You’re not a suspect or anything like that.”
Marla wasn’t alarmed. And at this point, she wasn’t even angry to be dining under questionable circumstances. Mainly, she was curious. “Why does he want to see me?”
“I can answer that question myself,” said a male voice just behind Marla. He moved to stand to the side of Patty so Marla could see him. He appeared to be a little under six feet, short reddish hair going gray with a paunch in the making. “I’m Colman Goodhue, Ms. Dane,” he said, extending his hand.
“Chief Goodhue,” Marla returned, taking his hand. “Please be seated. I’m curious to hear what’s on your mind.”
“I apologize for getting you here like this,” he said as soon as he was in his seat. “I didn’t want to alarm you by asking you to meet me at the station house, and I wasn’t ready to show up at your condo complex.”
“Okay, so much for the amenities. What’s on your mind?” She could almost hear Letitia in her words.
“I’m new to this job, Ms. Dane. I came from the St. Paul police department where I worked robbery and vice all my career except for early days in traffic management. Although I attained detective status, I never was involved with a homicide. And Maple Knolls hasn’t experienced a homicide in over ten years.” He sat back and eyed her. “In other words, none of us on the force have much experience finding killers.”
“But I heard someone from your department has already questioned at least one of the residents in my building, and that was the result of reviewing the victim’s credit card charges and tracking down witnesses who had seen Mr. Elliot recently.” The words were out before she realized how much she’d revealed despite her promise to Kitty.
