Methods of Malice, page 15
“Our dinner was delicious as ever, considering I didn’t cook any of it. My mother makes the best mashed potatoes in the world. Her gravy makes grown men weep.”
Trish laughed. “That’s quite an endorsement. Also, very convenient, as is having a boyfriend who can take over cooking turkeys for you for the rest of your life.”
Cooper’s eyes rounded. “No. You’re getting way ahead of things. Jon and I aren’t even at the serious stage.”
Trish laughed. “I said the same thing when I met Phil. Oh, we’re not serious.” She smiled. “This year marked fifteen years. Time flies when you’re not serious.”
A woman with a walker eased her way to the table and smiled at Cooper and Trish. “May I have a slice of apple and pumpkin?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cooper said.
“I’ll carry the pie to your table for you, dear,” Trish said.
When Trish returned, Cooper inched closer to her. “I have some news,” she whispered.
“About the case?” Trish asked.
Cooper nodded. “I literally ran into Jasmine in the hall on my way out of rehearsals on Tuesday evening. The contents of her purse went flying.”
“Why do I think there is more to this story?”
“Because there is.” A mature gentleman approached the table and offered a toothless grin.
“You two look as sweet as the pie,” he said. “I’d like some of that pecan, please and thank you. Looks just like the way my wife used to make her pecan pie. With lots of nuts. This brings back lots of memories.”
Cooper smiled at his drawn-out pronunciation of pee-kan. That was exactly how Grammy said the word. She sliced the pie and added a little scoop of vanilla ice cream. “There you go, sir.”
“I’m mighty grateful the senior center is open today. It ain’t no fun to be alone for the holiday. You girls are angels to spend your time here.”
“Thank you,” Trish said. As the man walked away, she wiped the moisture from her eyes. “This is exactly why we must continue the good fight and find out who murdered Regina. It will put a rest to the rumors and any chance that we won’t be able to bring the senior center funding.”
“You’re right, Trish,” Cooper said and nodded. “I may have a lead. I said I ran into Jasmine. When I did, she left behind some items from her purse. One of them was her driver’s license. It says Delores Melville.”
“Delores Melville? Hmm. Maybe Jasmine Ryan is just her stage name.”
“Maybe. Or maybe she’s hiding something.” Cooper pulled out the appointment card from Shady Oaks Rehab. “Remember Quinton said that Regina was threatening Jasmine. Do you think she knew something Jasmine was desperate to keep secret? Like something about Delores Melville. Perhaps it was something worth killing for.”
“What could be worth killing for?” Trish shivered. “Are you going to talk to Jasmine?”
“I called the hotel several times this week and had them ring her room. She was never there.”
“She must have made plans for the holiday weekend. I don’t blame her. I’d get out of that hotel, too, if I was stuck there.” Trish offered a sympathetic smile. “What are you going to do, Coop?”
“There’s nothing to do until Monday’s rehearsal. I tried to meet with Detective Olson, but no luck there either. The man took the week off.”
“We’re in a holiday holding pattern,” Trish said. “Hopefully our murderer is too.”
“Yes. We have a dozen clues that lead nowhere,” Cooper said. “Maybe something will break tomorrow.” She looked a Trish. “Are you still up for a stakeout?”
“Yes. Though I sincerely hope tomorrow is without incident,” Trish said. “I don’t think I can bear it if my old friend turns out to be a murderer.”
Cooper was reminded of Grammy’s recent wisdom. It’s natural to overlook the negative attributes of the people we care about. It had been a long time since Trish and Laura were roomies. How well did she really know Simon’s assistant? It was more than time to find out.
• • •
“She’s on the move,” Cooper said into her phone.
Laura Champagne exited the elevator in a chic two-piece dark pantsuit and strode toward the back entrance of the hotel.
Cooper stepped out from behind the giant ficus in the lobby of the Richmond Grand Hotel and followed, ducking behind a large bush, then she too exited the building. She looked around for Trish. “Where are you?”
“I’m at your nine o’clock. Crouched down in front of that red pickup truck.”
“Ah, now I see you,” Cooper said. “Looks like she rented a car—a silver four-door with Texas plates. We have to get going so we don’t lose her. Do you want to drive or shall I?”
“I’ll drive. I brought my husband’s car. It’s a boring sedan that will fly under the radar. I’m parked next to this pickup.”
Cooper joined her then fastened her seat belt as Trish pulled the sedan out of the hotel exit and cruised at a two-car-length distance from Laura.
“She’s pulling into that bank parking lot,” Cooper said as she slid down in the seat and pulled out her father’s bird-watching binoculars.
A few minutes later, Laura exited the vehicle and approached the outdoor ATM. Or was it Laura? The dark nondescript suit was the same, but she’d changed her hair.
“Who is that?” Trish asked. “I’m confused. That woman has dark hair. And what’s with those sunglasses? It’s overcast today.”
“My guess is that she doesn’t want the ATM camera to identify her. The oversized sunglasses and wig hide her auburn pixie cut and her face.” Cooper turned to Trish. “You won’t believe this, but I’m certain Laura swiped that wig from the theater wardrobe department.”
Trish’s eyes rounded. “What do you know?”
“Tuesday night, when I did my costume fitting, Libby said the wig assigned to my costume was missing, along with a few other items. The wig was present when she did the pre-rehearsal inventory.”
“Very interesting. Especially since only Simon and I have keys to the wardrobe department. That means it is very likely that Laura has his keys.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Cooper said. “There’s more. When we interviewed the proprietress of the shop that carries Délicieux French Chocolates, she said a woman with dark hair and sunglasses purchased the chocolate. Strictly cash. No way to trace the transaction.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she couldn’t identify the woman as either Jasmine or Laura, and until now, there was no wig mentioned.”
“Do you think Laura bought the chocolate that killed Regina?” Trish asked.
“I can’t answer that. Everything we have is speculation. Did Laura buy the chocolate and taint it with cyanide? Or was it Jasmine? We still can’t be sure who the target was, Regina or Jasmine.”
“Look,” Trish said. “She’s completed her transaction and is returning to the vehicle.”
Once again, they followed at a discreet distance. An hour later, they watched as Laura repeated the same scenario at a fourth bank ATM.
“Trish, Laura took money out of four ATMs. Who does that? What’s the rationale?”
“I hate to tell you what I’m thinking,” Trish said. “I mean, this is my friend I’m talking about.” She shook her head. “At least, I thought she was my friend.”
Cooper sat quietly while Trish battled with a moral dilemma. The realization that her friend had crossed the line had to be the worst kind of pain.
“Laura is Simon’s personal assistant,” Trish finally said. “She books his flights and hotels and makes purchases on his behalf.”
“Wait a minute.” The lightbulb went on and Cooper’s jaw sagged. “You think she used Simon’s credit cards at those ATMs?”
“That’s the only thing that makes sense. We know that Laura has a history of financial problems. Simon has money. He’d never notice small cash withdrawals.”
“Wouldn’t his accountant?”
“One hundred bucks here and there? Probably not. Especially when Simon is worth millions.” She paused. “This is a man who spent over three hundred dollars on pricey pizza for the cast and crew.”
“That’s still a leap, isn’t it? I can’t believe there are people who don’t notice things like that. I know my bank account balance down to the penny.”
“Which is very admirable. Except that’s not how it works with many businesses, and Simon Doyle is a business. The man is an enterprise.” Trish shook her head. “I had an assistant at Tyler Fine Properties with access to the company card. Honestly, I never looked that close. I have to be able to trust people in my line of work. Micromanaging is not effective time management. Especially when I am balancing a business, my family and my civic obligations.”
“How did you figure it out?”
“She got greedy. I never noticed twenty or thirty bucks here and there. After all, we buy coffee and lunch for clients all the time. And I trust my employees. Then I got hit for a five-hundred-dollar cash withdrawal, which is usually the max daily withdrawal allowed at an ATM. She quit the next day. Took the money and ran.”
“What did you do?”
“I canceled the card and considered it a life lesson.”
“You didn’t pursue it? Trish, that’s five hundred bucks.”
“I know, I know. It takes time and more money to pursue a thief. I’m not going to hire an attorney at a couple hundred bucks an hour to recoup five hundred dollars. Plus, I’d have to spend the day in small claims court.” She shook her head. “Lesson learned. No one gets the company card. I keep petty cash on hand and a receipt book with the receptionist. All major purchases require a purchase order, signed by me or the office manager.”
“What are we going to do about Laura?” Cooper asked.
“It’s terrible that Laura may be swindling Simon, but he’d have to be willing to press charges. The man is trying to rehabilitate his image. I’m guessing he’ll brush it off like I did the five hundred bucks.”
“Trish, it’s bigger than that. That wig ties everything together. It’s likely Laura bought the candy that killed Regina.” She released a breath of frustration. “I got pictures of her at all the ATMs. Sadly none of the photos will be close enough to positively identify her.”
“We’re back to the same question,” Trish said. “Is Laura guilty of murder? If she is, how do we prove it.”
“We can’t, but Detective Olson can. Once he talks to Simon, I think we’ll have enough information for him to get a search warrant. All he has to do is find proof she bought the cyanide.”
“If it was cyanide. We can’t confirm that yet, either.”
“It’s been six weeks since the murder. I’m hoping next week we’ll hear something from Olson. As it is, we’ll have to sit on this information until Monday.”
“I wonder if Quinton and Bryant were successful following Michael,” Trish asked.
“I’ll text Quinton.” Cooper pulled out her phone and sent the text. It only took a moment for a response. “Wow, that was fast.”
“What did he say?” Trish asked.
Cooper offered her the cell phone, and Trish read the text aloud. “Michael Ospina is a stalker. He stalked Jasmine and Simon all day.”
“That certainly fits the profile I’ve created of Michael,” Cooper said. “He’s an egotistical bully.”
“He’s also not very good at his job,” Trish said. “I don’t understand why Simon hired him in the first place.”
“I have my thoughts about that, too,” Cooper said. “Have you noticed that Michael and Simon have the same dark hair and aquiline nose?”
“Oh, they’re nothing alike. Simon is laid-back and very cultured. Michael is much rougher around the edges.”
“I used to think Simon was a cad, as Grammy Lee would say. After working with him for weeks, I’m not so sure. He’s a man who’s made some mistakes.”
“And Michael?” Trish asked.
“One hundred percent cad. The real question is whether Michael would kill for love.”
“In the theater, we call men like Michael a lothario,” Trish said. “An unscrupulous seducer of women. A term from a play called The Fair Penitent.”
“If the lothario fits,” Cooper said.
“I wonder. Could Michael and Simon be father and son?” Trish asked.
Cooper shrugged. “Or half brothers? There’s some familial connection, which would explain Michaels’s over-the-top contempt because Jasmine dumped him for Simon. Nepotism hiring would also explain why he’s so incompetent at the riggings. Wouldn’t someone with real theater experience have at least rudimentary knowledge?”
“Probably, unless they were very young and weren’t exposed to hemp houses. Laura and I have a background . . .” Trish’s face paled and her jaw sagged. “Oh my goodness. Laura knows the pulley and ropes.”
“She could have unlocked the pulley.”
Trish nodded slowly. “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots before.”
“Laura has means and opportunity,” Cooper said. “The only thing we haven’t figured out yet is motive.” She paused. “There’s nothing we can do except wait for Olson to get back from vacation. No one else would take us seriously.”
“Does Olson take us seriously?” Trish asked.
“He hasn’t laughed me out of his office so far.”
Olson might be tough, but the man did his job well. She ought to add him to her Thanksgiving list of things in life to be thankful for.
Chapter Twelve
“I don’t understand why we have to go shopping on a Sunday,” Ashley wailed from the passenger seat of Cooper’s Jeep. “There won’t be any leftover turkey by the time we get home. Grammy is bringing Frank to Leftover Sunday. You can say goodbye to the pie too.”
“It was either Black Friday or today. Between my day job and theater rehearsals, I don’t have any other options.” Cooper didn’t mention that she spent Friday following a suspected murderer. Ashley would no doubt tell Mama. Her sister couldn’t keep a secret. Secrets were a commodity to be traded with friends during a pedicure or a sea salt scrub.
Cooper unbuckled her seat belt. She’d insisted on driving. Ashley’s bump was enormous. Personally, she didn’t think the woman should be behind the wheel at all. Her sister disagreed and pointed out that one of the perks of having a husband who ran Love Motors was that she got to drive the safest vehicles on the road. Cooper still wouldn’t let her drive.
“When did you say LL is due?” Cooper asked.
“LL. Who is LL?” Ashley blinked, nearly dropping her cell phone as understanding dawned. “You are not calling my son LL. His name is Lincoln Love Jr.”
Cooper chuckled. “I like LL. He sounds like a very cool kid. Who are you texting, anyhow?”
“Mama, of course. I’m telling her to hide the pecan pie.”
“I don’t like pecan nearly as much as pumpkin.” There was nothing like her mother’s pumpkin pie with a snickerdoodle crust. Cooper’s mouth watered, thinking about pie and coffee once this shopping trip was completed. “Tell her to hide the pumpkin too.”
“Coop, she can’t hide two pies. Grammy will get suspicious.”
“Grammy and Frank can eat the mincemeat. Ugh, I can’t stand mincemeat.” A Mercedes pulled out of a prime space in front of Saks Fifth Avenue, and Cooper zipped into the spot. “Rock star parking.” She put the Jeep into Park and turned to her sister. “Tell Mama we’ll call her when we’re done. This will only take a few minutes.”
Ashley laughed. “I can’t even buy nail polish in five minutes. Finding the perfect dress is one of the most important life decisions there is.”
Cooper shuddered as they walked up to the store’s double glass doors. “We went right by Walmart. Why couldn’t we have stopped there?”
“I’m going to pretend you’re joking. Walmart is a fine store. But it’s not where you buy a cocktail dress.” She smiled. “Did you notice that we’re right by Trader Joe’s? We can stop on the way home. That will be my reward for helping you.”
“You’re sort of like a fairy godmother, aren’t you?” Cooper said. “Or Clarence.”
“Clarence? Who is Clarence?”
“Clarence Odbody, Angel Second Class from It’s a Wonderful Life. You know, with Jimmy Stewart. The theme is about sacrifice and family.”
Ashley laughed. “Oh, I’m definitely like Clarence. Every time I use my American Express Black card, an angel gets his wings.”
Cooper couldn’t help but laugh at her sister’s interpretation. Then she took a deep breath and turned to Ashley. “Ready?”
“Yes. Just promise me you won’t wander off into the appliance department. The last time you did that I had to ask the manager to call your name over the store intercom, like you were a lost child.”
“Ashley, clothes shopping bores me. I like the shiny modern technology and pretending I can afford it.”
“Promise me, Coop. I can’t be running all over looking for you. Lincoln Love Jr. has slowed me down these days.”
“Okay. Fine. I promise. This won’t take long, anyhow. And remember, I’m on a strict budget. One dress, and then we’re out of here.”
Ashley laughed again. “You keep saying it won’t take long. I have no idea where you got such a notion. This isn’t a race, Cooper. Think of it like a safari. We’re here to look at all the dresses and bag the perfect one. Then, we’ll head to the shoe department and start the hunt all over again.”
Cooper’s head lolled back and she groaned. “I don’t need shoes. I have a pair of black flats. They’re all-purpose. They match everything.”
Ashley looked down at Cooper’s feet, horrified. “Those? Surely you do not mean those.” She did a double take. “Are those orthopedic shoes?”
“No. Nurses’ shoes. I bought them when I was doing repairs. They help when I’m on my feet all day.” She lifted her foot. “Look at that cushioned sole. These are amazing shoes. They have extra cushioning, added depth for toe room and soft shock absorption. Like pillows for my feet.”
