Death of the Naked Lady, page 21
Before I could set my plan into action though, there’s one minute detail I needed to take care of, Margaret. I didn’t want the nonagenarian harmed while I was in hot pursuit. I’d have to come up with an excuse for not returning to the apartment with her. But what could I say?
Luckily, it didn’t take long for a believable story to pop into my noggin. I stuffed the car key in my purse and then turned my attention to the elderly woman who was unbuckling her seatbelt. “Oh, darn. I forgot Aunt Zoe wanted me to give the car a thorough looking over today.”
Margaret opened the front passenger door. “Why?”
“She insists she lost one of her favorite earrings in here. I told her I’d look, but I have a feeling it’s a waste of time. Look, it’s getting close to suppertime, you don’t mind going up to let them know we’re back, do you?”
My neighbor released a slight smile. If she suspected something, she didn’t let on. “Don’t worry about me, dear. We’ve been here long enough, I know my way around.”
The minute she slipped into the building I made a mad dash to the garage. Of course, the man I so desperately sought had already disappeared. Shoot! By now he could be riding the elevator, roaming the woods on the backside of the building, or hiding in a car. I decided to check the cars first on the off chance the guy might have popped in one of them and be waiting for his buddies.
The one thing I didn’t expect to find while examining the cars was a VW, the exact make and blue coloring as Fiona, parked in the seventh slot of the second row. Too curious to see if the VW had all the same features as mine, I totally ignored the license plate, trotted over to the car, leaned against the driver’s door, and peeked in the window. “I don’t believe it.” The vase held the same fake mums Aunt Zoe put in my car. “What? Fiona’s been sitting right here under our noses all this time?” Dang. I had no choice. Officer Fitzwell had to be notified immediately.
I shoved my hand in my purse, yanked out the cell phone, entered the words Duluth Police Stations and waited for the specific area I desired to pop up. Once it did, I pressed CALL.
A crisp, clear woman’s voice instantly came on the other end. She followed proper protocol to the letter, gingerly asking how she could be of assistance. I rushed to explain my call. It was intended for Officer Fitzwell. “He’s been working on finding my stolen car.”
“I’m sorry, Officer Fitzwell doesn’t come back on duty until next Tuesday.” I can’t believe it. The one time I hoped he’d be available he isn’t. Not receiving any feedback from me on what I wanted to do next, the woman’s polite tone continued. “If you’d like to speak with another officer regarding your car, I can transfer your call.”
I pressed the palm of my hand against my forehead. “Here’s the deal. I’m not calling to see if anyone found the car. I just discovered it tucked away in the underground garage where I’m staying. But before I use the Volkswagen again, I thought you might want to send a cop out to dust for fingerprints. You know, so you can catch the culprit.”
“Give me your address Miss. I’ll send someone to handle it as soon as possible.”
***
The grumpy, mid-fifties officer standing in front of me, legs generously spread apart, acted like he had more important things to do than listen to my wild woes, like popping in at the donut shop down the street. I guess if I was in his shoes I’d rather be sitting at a Dunkin’ Donuts dipping a sugary sweet or two in a cup of java than hearing the words flying out of my mouth, considering the supposed stolen car sat in the underground garage where said victim happened to be staying.
“Okay, Miss, let’s go over the details once more. Why wouldn’t you have known your car was down here?”
Aunt Zoe took one of my hands in hers. She probably sensed I was about to blow a gasket. “I don’t live here. My cousin does,” I said.
He pointed at Aunt Zoe. “You mean this lady here?”
“No, I’m her aunt. We’re here caring for her cousin who had knee surgery.”
“So, the two of you are staying with your cousin?”
“Actually, there are three of us,” I said, wondering why I even offered the information.
The cop rubbed his grayish-black eyebrows. “If the VW was stolen Sunday night like you reported, what did you use to get around town, your cousin’s car?”
An exasperated huff melted off Aunt Zoe’s lips. “Of course not, Officer Murphy, she doesn’t own one, nor do I. Mary used her brother’s.”
“Look,” I said, tiring of the questioning. “I don’t know why we’re quibbling over what car I’ve been using. It has nothing to do with the car sitting in front of us. I hope you’re not insinuating I purposely stashed my Volkswagen down here and then reported it stolen. Why would I do such a stupid thing?”
Murphy tipped the front of his cap. “You’d be surprise what people do for insurance money, Ma’am.”
“Well, I’m not one of them. Ask Officer Fitzwell about the night the thieves left me stranded in a ghastly part of town. He came to my rescue. He knows how distraught I was.”
“Now, now, calm down,” he said, exposing a shy smile as he pulled a notepad from his back. pocket, “Everything you’ve said is in his report. But it never hurts to have a victim repeat their story just in case an officer didn’t get the information recorded properly.”
“Does that mean you’re going to dust for fingerprints?” Aunt Zoe asked.
The cop nodded. “And take pictures.”
“Ooh, how exciting, to witness the process in person,” she exclaimed, “I’ve only seen prints lifted off a car on Hawaii Five-O.”
“Well, this ain’t a TV show, lady,” he said rather brusquely, slapping his notebook shut and sticking it in his back pocket, “So, stand back and give me room to do my job.” He rushed back to the trunk of his car, collected what he needed, and quickly returned to where I was standing.
Officer Murphy took photos of the car’s exterior first. Then he set his camera aside and pulled out a special powder, brushing it on the door handles and other areas of the car. Wherever the cop discovered a latent print, he lifted it with what looked like clear tape, attached the tape to an index card, and scribbled info down on the card.
After the cop finished with the car’s exterior, he moved to the inside, repeating the exact same procedure but in the opposite order: lifting prints first then taking pictures. He also opened the trunk, pulled up floor mats, and dug through the glove compartment. I assumed to see if my keys or anything else out of the ordinary had been left behind.
It wasn’t until Officer Murphy landed his feet on the garage floor again that I dared to ask him if he found my keys.
“Yup. They were under the driver side floor mat.” He set the fingerprint kit on the cement floor.to free up his hands. Then he whipped out keys from his pant pocket and dangled them in front of me. “Here. I’m done with them. Take ‘em.”
“Thanks. So, are you all finished here?”
“Nope, I need your fingerprints too.”
I didn’t give him any guff. The station already took them earlier, but what the heck. This will really confuse them. Prints taken twice in one day, that’s not too bad. I bet really active criminals have theirs lifted four or five times in a day, depending on the action they see when they’re out and about.
Aunt Zoe, on the other hand, didn’t like what she heard. She demanded to know why the cop thought it necessary to take her niece’s prints. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Stunned, the cop’s wide jaw dropped open. His eyes fixated on Auntie as if she was an alien visiting earth for the first time.
Noticing the cop’s strong reaction to Auntie’s words, I skillfully interceded on his behalf. “Shush. It’s okay. He has to eliminate my prints from the rest. Otherwise he won’t be able to narrow the playing field.”
“You mean find the culprit?”
“Exactly.” I offered my right hand to Murphy first. After each fingertip got inked, it was carefully recorded on an index card. It wasn’t until the final finger was recorded, the pinky on my left hand, that I politely suggested my aunt’s prints and our other companion’s be taken too since they both had ridden in the VW with me.
I could tell Aunt Zoe didn’t want to cooperate after what happened earlier in the day, but I gave her the old thumbs up routine and then she smiled.
As crabby as Officer Murphy had been since arriving on the scene, I half expected him to blow a gasket over a layman telling him how to run his show. Luckily, his face didn’t register any offense taken. He just whipped out more index cards and indicated he was ready for Aunt Zoe and anyone else I cared to toss his way.
~39~
After Officer Murphy left, the three of us took the elevator up to Cousin Lizzie’s third floor apartment and showed off our blackened fingers. Looking at them, she jokingly said, “Leave and don’t ever darken my apartment door again. I can’t afford cops showing up to throw you in the slammer. I’d have to move out. My impeccable reputation would be tarnished.”
The moment Lizzie finished her spiel someone knocked at the door. Margaret giggled and said, “Oh, dear, the police have figured out we’ve escaped from the penitentiary. Quick, hide us, Lizzie.”
“I’ll see who it is,” I offered, trying to compose myself. “Officer Murphy probably forgot to ask me something.” But the policeman I referred to wasn’t standing in the hallway. It was Del Rosa’s apartment manager Virginia Bagely.
“Hi, I hope I’m not interrupting anything, Mary.”
“Of course not,” I signaled her to enter.
She stepped in and waved a quick ‘hello,’ to the rest of the women in the room. The swift arm action caused the four thin jeweled bracelets she wore to slide to her bony elbow. “I heard I missed all the excitement in the garage a few minutes ago.” She rested her hand on my shoulder. “Mary, I bet you’re tickled pink to know your car showed up. I just can’t believe it’s been sitting in the garage all this time and no one reported it to me. Crazy, huh?”
I combed strands of fine hair over my left ear with my fingers. “Yeah, it’s crazy all right.”
Virginia leaned on the back of the brocaded chair where Margaret had positioned herself. “Did you inspect the car for damage?”
I nodded. “As far as I could tell, everything appeared fine. Say as long as you’re here, Virginia, do you have a list of gals who clean for tenants in the building? I keep forgetting to ask you.”
Lizzie picked up the thread of the conversation, as if she was on my conspiracy team. Maybe Margaret filled her in. “Yes, my visitors are leaving in a couple days and even though I feel fine, the doctor insists I take it easy for a while longer.”
“And so you should,” Virginia said, “If you over do it, you might run into trouble. Besides it doesn’t hurt to be pampered from time to time.”
Lizzie smiled. “That’s what my daughter said.”
“Say, I’m on my way to the office. Why don’t you join me, Mary, and I’ll print out the list for you.”
“Sure. Then we can get someone lined up before we leave.”
***
Margaret about tripped over her pink Isotoner slippers trying to reach me when I waltzed through the door. “Well, let’s take a look at the list,” she said. “I’m anxious to see if we recognize any names.”
“Where’s my aunt?”
“In the kitchen making chocolate chip cookies,” the nonagenarian whispered conspiratorially.
Remembering the last fiasco she had with baking I said, “I can’t believe you allowed her in there. Are you supervising her?”
The little Italian woman stuffed her hands in the yellow apron tied around her waist. “Si. Don’t worry. She’s just dropping spoonful’s of ready-made mix on to cookie sheets and putting them in the oven, but I’m timing the baking.”
“For heaven’s sake, Cousin, bring that list over here this instant,” Lizzie ordered. She was sitting on the settee. “The suspense is aging me.”
Since we were in her abode, I figured it would be smart to do as she asked. Besides, I’d already looked at the names of the cleaning gals while I rode the elevator up here.
“My goodness,” Lizzie said, “such a long list of cleaners for an apartment complex the size of Del Rosa. I didn’t realize they’re in such high demand.”
Margaret’s arthritic finger poked at a name halfway down the list. “Well, surprise, surprise. Look who cleans here.”
Before I could share my two cents worth, Aunt Zoe’s voice disrupted our flow of conversation. “Okay, Margaret, I’m ready for you to set the timer.”
I looked up from the list we were staring at and found my aunt leaning up against the wall that acts as a divider between kitchen and living room. A navy-colored butcher apron with blotches of dough clinging to it hid most of Auntie’s dark pants. Seeing the wasted dough made me wince. There would be a dozen less cookies to devour. She does look kind of cute though. If Dad’s sister played her cards right, she could be the next Pillsbury Doughboy or Doughchick. “Hey, what am I missing? No one told me Mary came back already.”
“Sorry. We got too wrapped up with the list of cleaning people,” I answered.
“Si. And we found one more clue for her case,” Margaret added.
Cousin Lizzie straightened her tight-permed head. “You’ll never guess who cleans for Del Rosa residents.”
“Who?” my aunt asked.
“Darcy’s roommate,” I shared.
“Trudy?”
“Yup.”
“I guess a certain someone’s going to be seeing you again, Mary. How about tracking her down with me tomorrow?”
“I think it can be arranged.” I’m sure Lizzie and Margaret can use a break from her never ending chatter.
~40~
Monday
Before I ended my full-time employment at Washington Elementary, fellow teachers tried to persuade me to break down and purchase a slick Fitbit device. It would enable me to see how much walking I did in a school day and how many calories I burned. If I found the numbers too low, I could simply do more walking after school. Sounded like an easy way to lose weight, but I never got motivated enough to purchase one. And now I’m glad I didn’t. Heck, at the pace I’m going chasing down bad guys, I’ll lose weight without watching one itty-bitty ounce of what passes through my precious lips.
Aunt Zoe huffed and puffed her way down the first floor of Burntside apartment, trying her best to keep up with my speed demon walking. I felt sorry for her, but I couldn’t slow down. Not yet. This sleuth had only one thing on her mind, catching Trudy Almquist before she flew the coop.
“Mary, did you ever check to see if Trudy’s in her dorm room?”
My cell phone pinged announcing an incoming message. I read it. “Yup. She’s there. This text from the dorm’s resident assistant just confirmed it.”
“I suppose you didn’t think about finding out when she cleans at the Del Rosa and saving yourself a trip here.”
“The idea flashed through my mind for a split second. But Trudy could get away too easily there, hence, the trek here. Ganging up on the girl in her room leaves her nowhere to run.”
As we neared the middle of the first floor hallway, I threw out a warning to my aunt. “We’ll find Trudy’s room just three doors down from here.”
Aunt Zoe stopped a foot short of the girl’s room. I thought to catch her breath, but I was wrong. She actually wanted to establish her body language. She pulled her shoulders back, adding a half inch to her height. Then she stuffed her hand in her jacket pocket, making it appear she carried a gun of some sort. “Okay, Niece, let’s do it.” Oh, my, gosh. Her words and actions seemed to be copied straight from a police show.
I knocked. Trudy responded same as last time. But this visit I had back up. Although it wasn’t the kind of help one would desire if trouble with a capital T stared you in the face. Aunt Zoe and I stepped in the room. Knowing Trudy didn’t seem to pay attention to whomever entered her room, I immediately announced us.
Fear registered in the college girl’s eyes the moment she looked up from her desk. “Why, Miss Malone, I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. Look, it appears I’m interrupting your study time so I’ll cut to the chase. “When I asked you what you did for a job, you never told me where you cleaned apartments. Why did you deem it necessary to hide that fact from me?”
She scratched her head. “I don’t know. It didn’t seem relevant to Darcy’s death.”
“Well, it is,” I snapped. “And if you don’t want to spend time behind bars, you’d better tell me everything you know right now.”
Aunt Zoe added her two cents. “Yeah, Missy, don’t beat around the bush. We know you’re involved with what happened to Darcy. It’s just a matter of time before we find out what actually went on.”
The girl picked up a pencil and chewed on the eraser.
She’s acting like a trapped rat, I thought. Good. Let her sweat it out. Her best friend’s dead. The least she can do is suffer a little. I tugged my cell phone out of my purse and readied my hand over the numbers. “Well, how long are you going to make me wait for answers? I’ve been told I’m not a patient person.”
“Mary, call the police,” Aunt Zoe ordered, “You can see she doesn’t plan to cooperate.”
That did it. Trudy cracked. She tossed the pencil against the wall behind her desk and whimpered. “Everything was fine until I took Darcy to the Del Rosa to help me.”
“What happened?” I inquired.
Trudy swept the tears off her face. I had my eye on the manager’s grandson.”
“You mean Virginia Bagely’s?” Aunt Zoe questioned.
