Coffee & Crime (3 page)

"Jake, this is Scotti and..."

"Zelda."

"This is Scotti and Zelda
—
they're friends of George's." Peggy nodded to Jake. "This is Jake Kannanack, George's partner."

I stepped toward Jake with my hand outstretched. "Actually, George and I were business associates."

Jake studied me
—
apparently amused that George had a business associate who looked so much like a waitress.

"Scotti Fitzgerald. Maybe George mentioned me?"

Jake took my hand, squeezed it a little too hard, and held it a little too long. "No, George never said a word." His hawkish eyes traveled my body like they were on a vacation cruise. "I would have remembered if he'd mentioned a woman like you."

It was a line, but his smile was enticing, and my knees wanted to buckle. Although, hitting on me while discussing his dead partner made him a creep.

I stepped back and smiled. "Like I said, George and I had a business relationship." Then I studied him. He was flashy and slick
—
so unlike George. I wondered how they’d become partners. They couldn't have been more different.

Jake stepped aside and motioned us toward an open door. "Why don't you step into my office and explain the kind of relationship you had with old George? I'm sure it's fascinating."

I swapped a look with Zelda and we followed Jake into his office.

Jake closed the door behind us and pointed to chrome and leather visitor chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

The office was like Jake
—
slick, polished and all sharp angles. It was a beautiful room and skillfully decorated but it didn't feel like a space where people liked to linger.

We sat and Jake took his seat behind the chrome and glass desk. He leaned back casually, making no effort to hide his appreciative glances. "All right then, what was this association you had with George?"

"George was investing in a business with me."

Jake raised a heavy eyebrow. "What kind of business?" He leaned across his desk as though he wanted to get a better sniff.

I shifted in my seat and draped my arm over the back of the chair. "The diner where I currently work. He was a customer. He told me he had food allergies, so I created nut-free recipes for him, which he liked. One thing led to another and..."

Jake flashed a smile and nodded. "Oh! You’re the magic chef. Oh yes, I've heard of you. That old dog George never let on that you were as beautiful as you are talented." He grinned and licked his lips. "I've sampled those brownies. Exquisite."

Zelda was not seduced by his charm. "What should we do then?" Her tone was brusque and her eyes intent.

Jake stopped leering at me and sat up straight in his chair. "Do? About what?"

"Scotti's deal with George?" Zelda frowned at him. "If you've heard about Scotti, then you know what their deal was, right?" She held out her arms. "I know this is lousy timing and George dying is sad
—
really sad. But where do we go from here? Life goes on, right?"

Jake scratched an imaginary beard. "You get right to the point, don't you?" He tilted his head and shrugged. "The deal as you call it, wasn’t with the firm, yes? So, it's out of my hands."

Zelda grunted. "Then why did you drag us into your office to talk?"

Jake steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. "Perhaps you should contact the family to discuss how they want to handle it." He picked up a black and ivory fountain pen and tapped it on the desk top. "Contracts aren't my wheelhouse but they can be tricky." He grinned at me like we were on a date. "And if there's a death clause, your contract could be null and void."

It was obvious that Jake knew about my plans with George and that our contract hadn't been signed and finalized yet.

Zelda pulled a notebook out of her pocket. "Okay, how can we reach them?"

"Zelda!"

Zelda gave me the hairy eyeball and looked back to Jake. "How can we get in touch with George's family?"

Jake shook his head slowly. "The family is suffering. They don't need this type of disruption."

Suddenly I'd reached my limit. The reality that George was dead hit me and tears pooled in my eyes. The diner, deals and contracts meant nothing. My friend was dead and we were wasting time dickering with his partner who had no desire to help us. I grabbed my bag and stood. "Sorry we bothered you, Mr. Kannanack." I turned to Zelda. "Come on Zee - time to go."

Zelda gave me a dirty look but I shook my head. She stuffed her notebook into her back pocket, and stood. "Fine."

We headed for the door.

Jake chuckled. "You two give up easily don't you?"

I turned back to him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake scribbled on a piece of stationary and crossed the room to us. Pushing the sheet of paper into my hand he said, "Here's George's address.” It’s just down the street. But please don't mention how you got it." He winked and lowered his voice. "My number is on there too should you need a sympathetic ear."

"I don't understand. I thought you didn't want to get involved."

He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a magnanimous fellow." He insisted on walking us to the elevator and leered at me until the doors closed.

"What a creep."

I said nothing.

Zelda looked at me. "Oh what? Now you're pissed at me? We needed that address."

I said nothing.

When the elevator doors opened onto the parking structure I started for the jeep with Zelda on my heels. "Come on! Scotti, talk to me! Yell at me if you want. But don't freeze me out."

I stopped and spun around. "Damn it!"

Zelda jumped back. "What?"

"You forgot to get the parking validated!"

The rumble of the jeep's engine bounced off the concrete walls of the parking structure. I stared into space wondering what I could do.

"Are you going to say anything?" Zelda finally asked.

I didn’t look at her. "I'm not mad."

She put the jeep in gear and eased out of the parking slot. "Glad to hear it."

"But, we have to get flowers."

Zelda braked. "For what?"

I turned to her. "Because, if you barge into a person's home when there's been a death in the family, you bring flowers." I buckled my seatbelt and looked straight ahead. "We should also swing by the house and get his briefcase."

Zelda shook her head. "I'll stop for flowers but I'm not going all the way home and then back again. We'll do the briefcase another day."

She stared at me until I nodded. His family had more important things on their minds than George's briefcase. "Okay."

Zelda zoomed to the exit, gave the attendant her ticket, and shot out of the lot. She weaved in and out of lanes and tail gated everyone until she found a flower shop on Raymond. A cute little place that made me think of unicorns
—
where we purchased a large and expensive floral arrangement of roses and lilies.

Two steps into lugging the vase to the jeep, I regretted my choice. "Why did you let me order this?"

Zelda took the vase from me and stuffed it in the back. "Like I could've stopped you?" She stared at the arrangement that filled the back seat. "That thing is a crime against flowers everywhere. And it’s ugly." She climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door. "We ready now?" Then she floored it, cascading rainwater as she went.

George's home was on Orange Grove Boulevard but I'd never thought of George as rich until I saw that house. I never knew a house could intimidate a person
—
but George's house intimidated me. "Holy mother..."

"Great Gatsby!" Zelda cried.

Parking was prohibited on the street, so Zelda turned into the driveway. And as we pulled closer, the house loomed larger above us. She parked next to a plain wrap sedan that seemed more out of place than her jeep.

Zelda peered through the windshield at the house. "Who the hell was this guy?"

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the house either. "Just a lawyer with allergies."

"Why didn't you tell me he was Daddy Got-Bucks?"

"Because I didn't know."

I'm no expert in architecture but I'd call it art deco. It reminded me of the movies,
The Great Gatsby
and
China Town
. Not quite a mansion but I guessed my entire house could fit into the living room. Pale yellow, with chocolate trim, the house stood back on the property with an expansive lawn between it and the street. It featured lead-paned windows, columns, and a balcony above the front porch. The house nestled in shrubbery and the old birches that flanked the entrance glistened in the gray, gauzy air.

I scanned the area for security guards. "Maybe we shouldn't park in their drive." But after sitting and gawking for several minutes, no one warned us off and we got up the nerve to step out of the jeep.

Zelda leaned into the back seat and struggled with the flowers.

"I don't know, Zee. Maybe we shouldn't have come. I'm sure his family doesn’t know who I am. We should leave the flowers at the door and go."

Zelda pulled her head out of the car and threw me a "you gotta be kidding" look.

"Or not," I said. "Okay, you're right, we can do this.” But the house seemed more daunting than before.

Zelda gave the arrangement a final tug and pulled it free. "Damn right we can do this. We are doing this." She closed the door with her hip. "So give me a hand and quit acting like a little mouse." She whipped her head back to un-stick her wet ponytail from her forehead.

I took the vase away from Zelda. "Just ring the bell when we get to the front door."

We slogged across George's spongy lawn. Each oozing step soaked through my sneakers and made my feet colder. But before we reached the walk, two people emerged from the house.

We stopped and I shifted the flowers to get a better look. Squinting I said, "Is that who I think it is?"

Zelda took the flowers from me and set them down on the lawn. "What are Daniels and Davis doing here?"

Daniels and Davis were a couple of regulars from the diner who also happened to be police detectives.

"Damned if I know."

Daniels was a big guy with a tremendous sweet tooth and an agreeable disposition. Davis was a tiny waif-like blonde with the disposition of a pit-bull.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here," Daniels said. He wore a battered raincoat that barely covered his bulk and did nothing to keep him dry. The rain plastered his hair to his big head but he carried himself like he was the hottest thing on two legs.

I smiled and sketched a parade wave. "Hey guys, what are you doing here?"

The four of us stood in the rain, looking at each other in the middle of George's sodden lawn. None of us were sure what to make of the impromptu meeting.

Davis cranked her hand. "So out with it, what are you two doing here?"

I pointed to the flowers. "We heard about George."

Daniels smiled. "Ah, paying your respects. That's mighty nice." He wiped his rain-slicked face with a big hand. "But how did you meet George Manston?"

"George was a regular at the diner
—
like you guys," Zelda said. "He's the one Scotti made special brownies and cakes for, right?"

Daniels did a double take. "George Manston was a regular? At Manny's?"

I nodded. "Yeah, why are you looking at us like that?"

Davis smirked. "Really? George Manston ate at Manny's?"

I nodded and furrowed my brow. "Don’t look so surprised. A lot of people eat at Manny’s."

Daniels snickered. "A lot of millionaire lawyers eat at Manny's?"

"Millionaire?"

Davis swept her arm toward the house. "You think this place belongs to an ambulance chaser?"

She had a point but the thought of sweet, unassuming George being a snobby rich guy didn't work in my head. I shrugged. "George ate at the diner all the time. I guess even millionaires like good food."

Zelda wiped her bangs off her forehead like she was mad at them. "We told you what we’re doing here. What are you doing here?"

Davis dropped her eyes to her shoes, which weren’t meant for wet weather. "Follow up."

That didn't compute. "Follow up for what? Aren't you two homicide detectives?"

Daniels looked over our heads as though something behind us was more interesting. "A few concerns the widow had. Nothing worth writing about in your little book, Zelda."

Zelda smacked her forehead. "George was murdered?"

Davis glared at Daniels like she wanted to slug him. To us she said, "We can't discuss police business."

"Well the cat's out of the bag now." Zelda edged closer to the cops and leaned in. "So Mrs. George thinks somebody murdered him?"

Daniels wagged a warning finger. "Nobody said that. People imagine all kinds of things when their loved one dies suddenly. They start thinking there’s an evil force at work when it's really just an accident. You read me?"