A Corpse in the Soup (26 page)

Godiva hit the brakes as the light turned red. “And Lenny’s description of Wesley sounds just like Chris Cross!”

CHAPTER 45

One look at the obituary clipping confirmed it. The photo was exactly the same as the one in Chris’ silver frame. Chris Cross was definitely Wesley Wellington.

The Silver family all sat around the table after dinner trying to figure out what to do next.

Sterling’s mouth was set in a thin stubborn line, his arms folded against his chest. “I say you girls bow out. You’ve done what you set out to do, you found the son. I know you like this kid Chris...but now he’s not Chris any more, now he’s Wesley. And it looks like this Wesley might not be such a nice guy. Call Lieutenant Adams now, before you two wind up cold as a carp, like ol’ Biff.”

Flossie scowled at him. “Sometimes you’re such a fussy old lady, Sterling. Where’s your team spirit? Your sense of adventure? After all, if it wasn’t for me the note would have been long gone. And my girls have already figured out more than the police. You’re just one vote. I vote they should follow it through.”

“I don’t know, Mom.” Goldie twisted her napkin. “This is one time Uncle Sterling is probably right.”

“
One
time?” muttered Sterling.

Goldie ignored him. “As much as I hate to admit it, we probably should bring the police in and share what we know.”

Godiva pressed her hands flat on the table and leaned toward her sister. “How can you say that Goldie? We’ve come this far, we’ve got to see Chris just one more time before we turn him over to the cops. If he did do it, then Caesar’s in the clear, but I don’t want Chris to be a sacrificial lamb, either. Mom’s right, we have to hang in there just a little longer.”

Goldie crossed her arms. “Okay, Godiva, one more meeting with Chris. And I suppose we’ll have to work on your column tonight, too.”

“Way to go, Auntie,” Torch held up his glass in a toast. “By the way, what was that Rodriguez guy like, anyway?”

“Kind of creepy, Torch. I guess that’s the best way to describe him, wouldn’t you say so, Sis?” Goldie glanced at Godiva.

“Yeah, but hey, he gave us what we wanted. Wow. The son returns to kill the dad. If Chris really is the killer, that would mean even more publicity for the movie. Lenny could really clean up.”

For a moment there was nothing but silence.

Sterling got up, folded his napkin in a silent gesture of disgust and slapped it down on the table. “Well, you guys have it all figured out. What’s an old coot like me know, anyway? If that guy tries to carve you up tomorrow, I hope the last thing you remember is: I told you so!”

After everyone went their way, Goldie and Godiva took their tea into the library and began to sort letters. After a while, Godiva reached for the phone. “I should call Caesar and tell him the news.”

“I don’t think so, Godiva. He’ll tell Oscar and the cops will be all over Chris in a heartbeat. The best thing is to get to Chris’ place early in the morning so we can catch him off guard. Within a few minutes we’ll know if he’s our killer.”

Godiva set down the phone, “Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

Goldie started to walk out of the room, stopped for a moment and turned back to Godiva. “So, Madame Pompadour, get your powdered ass out of bed nice and early in the morning. We have to leave here at seven whether you have your clothes on or not.”

At eight o’clock the next morning they were climbing the shabby steps to Chris’ apartment. After several knocks the door opened a crack. It was hard to tell whether the sisters or Candy got the greater shock.

She was wearing nothing but a Food Broadcasting tee shirt that was obviously not hers. Her hair looked as though she had combed it with an eggbeater. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and mumbled, “Geez, I thought I was seeing double, kinda gotta hangover. You guys, what are you doing here? Come in, I guess,” she swung the door open revealing the evidence of the previous night’s partying. Discarded clothes and empty champagne bottles were strewn around the shabby living room.

“Oh my goodness, Candy,” Goldie said, surveying the scene. The girl looked embarrassed, as if her own mother had walked in on her. She hoped Candy wouldn’t cry again. “Don’t worry, dear. We need to talk to Chris right away. Ummm, is he here?”

Before she could answer, Chris came through the bedroom door wearing only pajama bottoms and stopped dead in his tracks. He, too, looked like he’d been caught by his mom. In a way, he had.

“Candy and I were, er, celebrating. Manicotti bought the idea. She’s got the show.”

Candy started jumping up and down and clapping her hands like a little girl. “Chrissy did it. He said he could and just like that Mr. Manicotti went apeshit over his idea. Chris told him how it didn’t matter if I could cook, ’cause it really wasn’t about cooking anyway. My Chrissy is so clever. Want to know what I’ll be doing?
Microwave Magic for Macho Men
. They don’t want to cook. They just want to nuke food and look at eye candy. And, hey, that’s me. Candy.”

Chris looked like a proud peacock. His skinny chest puffed out with pride. “You know what finally sold him on it? With Candy he can get sponsors for guy things. They’ll tune in just to watch her and that opens up a whole new cash cow for him. None of the other cooking shows have that power.”

Goldie stretched her hand out to Candy for a hearty shake. “Hey, kids, we’re so happy for you.” She turned to Chris. “I’m sorry to do this, but Godiva and I know who you
really
are.”

“Who I am? What...” his triumphant smile turned to a terrified grimace.

Candy tugged the bottom of her tee shirt. “Hey, I know who he is. He’s my Chrissy. So what?”

Goldie walked over to Chris and put her hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to tell her, or should we?”

Chris seemed to crumble before their eyes. “No, I guess it couldn’t stay a secret forever.”

Candy looked at Chris, then at Goldie, totally confused.

“Candy, I’m Wesley Wellington. Biff’s son.”

She stared at him in disbelief.

Chris said, “Remember the letter you said you threw away? Well, I wrote it. Please believe me. I wasn’t going to kill him. It wasn’t like that at all. I just wanted to make him pay. I deserved to get something out of all that pain, all those horrible years.” He collapsed on the kitchen chair, his hands over his eyes, sobbing.

“Oh, Chrissy!” Candy fell to her knees beside him.

“I was planning it for years. When I was a kid it was only a fantasy. Suddenly it was reality. While I was growing up I didn’t know that he was getting rich and famous. I just wanted to get even. Then, after I got to L.A. it started to eat me alive. This bastard was on top of the world. That’s when I decided to apply for a job at the studio. I was going to try to get work right under his nose.”

“My poor Chrissy.” Candy reached out for his hand.

“Yeah, there I was, working for him, and he didn’t have a clue who I was. Treated me like shit, but I finally realized it wasn’t because I was his son. That was the way he treated everyone, an abusive, mean, arrogant jerk. All I was going to do was blackmail him or threaten him or something. I just thought he should be made to pay for what he did to me and my mother.”

All three of the women nodded in unison.

“When I got the job he sent me to spy on Romano. That really pissed me off. I figured he was the one sabotaging Caesar and getting away with it.”

“Yeah, and we figure Edgar was helping him.”

“Edgar.” His head dropped into his hands. “Yeah I suppose he was. I’ve been kicking myself about that. If only I’d told the police, maybe Edgar would still be alive.”

“Chris. When we started to look for Wesley, we just wanted to clear Caesar. We didn’t know it would turn out to be you. I feel so bad, but you know we’re going to have to turn this over to the police. It would probably be better if you went to them yourself.”

Candy gasped. She stood beside him in a stance that silently declared she would personally tear apart anyone who tried to take Chris by force.

Chris’ sad eyes connected with Godiva’s. “But I didn’t do anything. All I did was write a note. Okay, I created a phony name for myself, but that isn’t a crime. I used to call myself the Shadow. Then I got a new name from The Crossroads, where they saved my life. Believe me, I didn’t kill him. I swear. I’m not that crazy, I’m not even that strong. Someone else did me the favor. You’ve got to believe me.”

Godiva walked over to the phone and handed it to him. She dug in her handbag for Lieutenant Adams’ card. “Chris, make it easier on yourself. Call Lieutenant Adams.”

Candy tried to restrain Chris. “You nosy old ladies had to spoil everything. Why are you after him? Why are you doing this?”

“Face the facts, Candy, revenge can give a weak man superhuman powers...and so can greed.” Godiva turned her steel gaze to a trembling Chris. “You’re about to become a wealthy young man. Assuming Biff had no other heirs, you’ll wind up with everything he had, which I understand is quite a bit. At least you’ll be able to afford a good lawyer. Temporary insanity; with your history you’ll probably have a sympathetic jury.” Her face softened. “I’d let you off if I was on the jury.”

His shoulders slumped still farther and the women thought they would have to drag him to the phone themselves when he got out of the chair, looked at the card and dialed the number.

Before anyone picked up on the other end, he squared his shoulders and slammed the receiver back in the cradle.

“No! You may be G.O.D., but you can’t make me do this! Please believe me. I didn’t kill my father. There has to be some way I can prove it. Help me. Please help me. I know it looks bad. When the police get that letter, they’ll gobble me up. You’re right, I definitely had the opportunity and motive… boy do I have motive. But, just like Chef Romano, I’m not a killer. Please!” He spread his hands before them.

Godiva’s eyes continued to bore into Chris’ soul, “Chris, there’s no room for lies now. Can you swear to us that you didn’t do it? Think before you start nodding. Goldie and I like you very much and if you’re telling the truth we will do everything we can to help you. But, if you’re lying...”

Goldie jumped in. “We’re going out on a limb for you, Chris. If you’re not totally square with us, believe me, we’ll move mountains to make sure you’re convicted.”

Goldie snapped her fingers with a loud click. “Godiva, let’s step outside for a minute.” She gestured toward the door. “We may be able to help you kids after all, but we need to talk about something in private first.”

“You’re not gonna call the cops while you’re out there, are you?”

Goldie put her hands on her hips and stared him down with just a little smile playing around the corners of her mouth. “No. Are you going to shimmy down the fire escape?”

“Uh uhhh.”

“Good boy.” She pointed to the chair. “Sit. Stay.” She grabbed Godiva’s hand and pulled her out into the corridor.

In less than five minutes they returned to find Candy in a pair of hot pink pants adorned with little red hearts and Chris wearing a Spiderman sweatshirt over faded jeans.

Godiva took the reins. “Okay, you two. We think we know who the killer is, but we need to check out a few things. Remember, either way you’re going to have to let the police know you’re Wesley.”

The distraught young man stiffened his spine. “All right, but do me one favor. Don’t call me Wesley; he no longer exists. I became a new person at The Crossroads.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll always be Chris to us.” Grabbing her purse, Goldie headed for the door. “Come on, Godiva. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

CHAPTER 46

The receptionist at Food Broadcasting recognized the twins and waved them through with a cheery smile and a conspiratorial wink. Manicotti was waiting for them, sitting behind a fabulous carved walnut desk, hands folded in front of him. He rose from his seat to usher them into his office.

A stocky man in his fifties, with a charming smile and silver-flecked black hair, he looked quite the gentleman in his beautifully tailored suit and well appointed office. It was only when he opened his mouth to speak that his rough-around-the-edges New Jersey origin became apparent.

“Sit, sit.” He gestured toward two leather wing chairs. “Friends of Caesar’s are friends of mine, ya know. Whadda gold mine that guy is for me. Say, we got some good camera play wit you two good lookin’ dames at the tournament, so I want to thank you for that.”

He settled himself in his chair again. “Ok, what’s this all about? It’s good Caesar’s out on bail, ’cause he’s already working on this week’s show with your...” he looked from one identical face to the other, “...daughter, niece, whatever. So how can I help you?”

Goldie glanced at Godiva, clearly unhappy that the buck had been passed to her. “Well, Mr...uh...Manny...this is a little awkward, but we need to talk to you about the Biff Wellington movie. We’ve been working things out in our minds, you know, trying to find anything that will help Caesar, and frankly, the timing for that movie announcement was just a little too perfect.”

Godiva picked up the ball. “We’re wondering how long you were you sitting on the script.”

Manicotti’s expression darkened.

“We thought maybe you planned to do the movie if Wellington actually left the network for that Foodie Superhero show we’ve heard about. Then again, he probably would have sued your pants off. Now, with him being murdered, well, the trades say the movie should be a blockbuster...”

Manny’s smile became an angry slash. “Just a minute there, girlies, it sounds like you’re saying I had something to do with his murder. You’ve only got part of the story right. God, I hate it when broads like you go stickin’ their noses where they don’t belong.”

They glared back at him.

Manny relaxed a bit, but he was still on guard. “Sure, Biff was going to star as the
Kitchen Crusader
on ABC. Who do you think leaked the story to the press? He wasn’t leaving the
Aerobic Chef
or Food Broadcasting. He was gonna do both.” The slash turned back into a smile. “I was the silent partner in the
Crusader
show. It’s a kiddy show, ya know, start ’em young, tomorrow’s audience an’ all that. A lot of folks in the industry knew about it. Knock him off for a movie? You gotta be kiddin’. Yeah, I’ll make money, but I got money. Why would I kill my Golden Goose? I’m afraid you girl scouts will have to do better than that.”