Ellen McKenzie 03-And Murder for Desser (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-one

I worked Sunday afternoon, showing property to a couple new to our town, and got home around five. I stood inside the front door and listened. Silence. This afternoon it sounded beautiful. After all that had happened in the last month, I needed an evening alone. Please, I thought, don’t anyone call, come over, ask me questions, or make me think how I should be feeling.

No one did. The phone didn’t ring, the doorbell didn’t buzz, no one interrupted my long soak in the bathtub, and Jake, my book, and I went to bed early. I finally put my book down and listened to the quiet, empty house. I wondered if I’d have to get used to it.

Monday was—Monday. For some reason, weekends breed crises, and I spent the first part of the day dealing with them. Right before lunch there was a lull. I found myself sitting back in my chair, congratulating myself on the fires I’d stomped out, when I looked at my watch and thought—time to go to the Yum Yum. Only Dan hadn’t called. Should I call him? I would have a week ago, but now…The uncertainty of our relationship chased away any hunger pangs, but the thought of Dan brought up Jolene, the boyfriend thief, and I started to think about her article. Why wasn’t it finished? Wouldn’t most reporters write the story, go to another location, and then come back for the next event, in this case, the big dinner, if that was indeed going to be a feature? The more I thought about it, the more I wondered. What was the name of that magazine? It took a minute, but I finally dredged it up.
Dining Delights
. Printed in Dallas, Texas. A quick look at the clock told me that the staff should be back at work after their own lunch hour, and this should be prime time for a game of twenty questions.

Information was, as always, obliging, and even connected me. The soft Texas drawl of the girl who answered the phone sounded friendly. Until I asked about Jolene Bixby. Then it turned downright frosty. “Ms. Bixby doesn’t work here anymore.”

I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. “She must. I just met her out here in California, and she said she’s doing an article on chefs on our central coast for your magazine.”

“Not for us. She may have gone back to freelancing, but she left us a few weeks ago.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Will she be back?”

“No ma’am.” The answer was quiet but emphatic.

I hung up the phone and stared at it, stunned. This answered a lot of questions about Jolene. Or did it? It sure opened up some new ones. I was pretty sure that Jolene’s clout with Otto was the article she was going to write, the great review she was supposed to give him. Had he discovered that there might be an article, but no guarantee it would ever see print? Is that why he wanted her out? Had she killed him because she didn’t want anyone to know she no longer had power over chefs, no longer was a “roving reporter”? It made sense. At least, a sort of sense. But where was the connection to the wine theft? I was deep in thought when the phone rang. I picked it up, expecting to hear from a lender that my young buyer’s loan had been approved, or maybe Dan suggesting lunch. Instead I got Aunt Mary.

“Ellen, you have to get over to the police station right now.” She sounded breathless and dreadfully upset.

“Why?” I asked, starting to feel upset myself. If she were agitated, something bad must have happened. It had.

“Carlton’s been murdered and Dan has arrested Sabrina.”

Chapter Twenty-two

I sat there, holding the phone to my ear, unable to move. I had heard what she said, but somehow it wasn’t processing. Carlton dead? Sabrina arrested? No, not possible. Carlton was the murderer, not the corpse.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me, and you heard me right. Get over to the police station right now. I’m on my way, too. We have to find out what is going on.”

It sounded as if she already had, but I said, “I’m on my way,” hung up the phone, punched the button that would put it on answering service, remembered to grab my purse, and ran for the door.

“Hey, Ellen,” shouted our receptionist, “your lender is on the phone.”

“Later. I’ve got an emergency.”

Our police station isn’t very large. Today it looked even smaller. The San Luis Obispo County Sheriff’s homicide van sat outside the station; several detectives were in the office talking on cell phones. Patrol officers, who I would have thought would be on the street doing something, were hanging around, trying to look inconspicuous while listening to Mark and Frank take turns yelling at the harassed-looking uniformed officer sitting at the front desk. He sat, stony faced, refusing to answer any of the questions they kept shouting at him. He probably didn’t know the answers.

“What happened?” I asked, hurrying up to them.

“Oh, Ellen,” Mark said in voice strangulated with tears and anger, “these idiots have arrested Sabrina.”

“These ‘idiots’ have not arrested her,” a quiet voice stated. Dan. Appearing out of a room almost directly opposite the front desk. “We’re questioning her.”

“Why?” I blurted out. “What happened? Is Carlton really dead?”

“We’re questioning Sabrina because she was found standing over Carlton, holding a knife. The one that killed him.” Dan stood quietly in front of the closed door he had just come out of, saying nothing more, just watching us. The little line at the corners of his eyes seemed heavier, and his mouth was set in a grim line. A sobbing sound came out of the room. Dan reached behind him and closed the door. Mark’s head snapped up, and he turned toward the room, stopped only by the hand his father put on his arm.

“Dear God,” said Aunt Mary.

I whirled around, startled. I was trying so hard to make sense out of what Dan had just said, and what he hadn’t said, that I hadn’t heard her come in. Now she stood close beside me, looking up at Dan, an expression in her eyes I had never seen before. Fear.

“But, how?” I asked, returning my attention to Dan. “Where?” I didn’t seem to be able to get beyond words of one syllable.

“How?” Dan replied. “He was stabbed to death by a French boning knife. Where? In his office. Someone drove the knife right through the back of his throat. A very angry someone.”

I felt sick. Really sick. As if I might lose it right there, in the middle of the police station. Carlton dead. Sabrina standing over him with a knife. She must have killed him, but why in such a horrible way? Why kill him at all? He had been arrested for stealing their wine, which cleared Mark, and she was delighted to think he might be Otto’s murderer. Which left her with no motive I could see.

“Why?” I asked Dan. “Why would Sabrina want to kill Carlton?”

“She wouldn’t want to.” Mark had left the officer at the front desk to stand beside Aunt Mary and me and glare at Dan. “And besides, you know Sabrina. Can you see her sticking a knife in someone? She won’t even bone a chicken, and the damn thing’s already dead.”

That argument didn’t seem to impress Dan. “These are questions we’re asking her. Look, I know you’re all upset, but this is going to take a while. Why don’t you all go home, and, Ellie, I’ll call you later.”

“No,” stated Mark. His eyes were boring holes in the closed door. “She’s in there, all alone, thinking—there’s no way she killed anyone, and I’m not leaving without her.”

“I’m staying with my son,” Frank said.

Mark glanced at his father and shrugged. I took a better look at Frank. He looked worried, tired and worried. His face had taken on a gray tinge, and, for the first time, Frank looked his age.

“I’ll stay too,” Aunt Mary said. “Frank, are you all right?”

She didn’t ask Mark, or me, she asked Frank. Now, what did that tell me? I wasn’t sure, but whatever was going on, it was mutual. Frank took her hand and pulled her into the fold of his arms. He dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Sabrina’s not alone,” Dan said. “Two homicide officers from the Sheriff’s department are with her. One of them is a woman,” he finished hastily, glancing at Aunt Mary’s face. “They’re taking over for now.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Evidently, I’m a little too intimately involved to be an impartial interrogator.” The narrowing of his eyes and the tightening of his jaw made it plain this was not to Dan’s liking. He’d been trained as a homicide detective while with the San Francisco Police Department and had conducted a number of investigations while Chief of Police of Santa Louisa. Not being able to question a chief suspect must be driving him crazy. I wondered if he had voluntarily excused himself or had been pushed gently out of that room. Either way, Dan was not happy.

Another door opposite us opened. Two detectives and Larry came out.

“Thank you for your help, sir,” one of them said, but Larry wasn’t listening. He had spotted me and rushed across the room. “Oh Ellen, I’m so sorry. It was horrible, finding her there, finding them both there, but I had to tell the police, I just had to. You do understand, don’t you?”

No, I didn’t. I had no idea what he was talking about.

Dan made the explanation. “Larry walked into Carlton’s office and found him dead. Sabrina was standing over him with the knife. He took it away from her. That’s how he got the blood on him.”

For the first time, I noticed the stains on Larry’s chinos. There were stiff spots on his navy polo shirt as well, but they didn’t show up unless you looked for them. I wondered if Sabrina had blood on her as well, and how much. I started to feel sick again. Aunt Mary gave a low little moan.

Mark went white. “Shit,” he said loudly.

Larry ignored them all. “I’m so sorry, Ellen.” He’d grabbed my hand and was giving it little pats.

“It wasn’t your fault.” I pulled my hand away and glanced at Dan. “I’m sure you did what you had to.”

My mind was whirling. Larry had found Sabrina? Why was Larry in Carlton’s office? More to the point, why was Sabrina? I kept watching Dan, wondering what he was thinking. Had he asked those questions? Had he gotten answers? His face gave away nothing.

“Let’s go get coffee or something,” Larry said, grabbing my arm. “I really need some, and I’ll bet you do, too.”

Coffee with Larry wasn’t at all what I needed. Answers, that was what I needed. Answers to about a thousand questions. I raised my eyebrows at Dan and gestured toward his office, hoping he’d take the hint. He responded, but not the way I had expected. “Great idea, Larry. We’ll use my office. I think we have chairs for all of us.”

Larry looked stunned. I almost laughed. Dan might have been shut out of one interrogation room, but he was about to create another, and for the first time, I was going to get to sit in.

Chapter Twenty-three

“Everybody comfortable?”

Dan sat behind his desk, watching all of us juggle white Styrofoam cups of what passed for coffee while trying to get situated on the folding chairs crammed into his tiny office. It had always reminded me of an overgrown broom closet, but never more so than today. His desk, file cabinets, and bookcase normally left room for only one small padded chair, the one Aunt Mary was sitting in. Now the folding chairs took up every inch of floor space. If anyone had to excuse themselves, well, they’d better just hold it because there was no way out. There was, however, one window, and it opened. It was the only thing that saved us from oxygen deprivation.

“You can’t charge Sabrina with murder,” Mark stated. He held his cup so tightly I thought it was going to crush. If it went, none of us would escape a hot coffee bath.

Dan sighed. “Nothing would make me happier, but she was found standing over the body, the murder weapon in her hand. Seems to warrant a few questions.”

Even Mark couldn’t argue with that statement.

“Larry had a great idea, all of us getting together for coffee.” Dan nodded at Larry, who looked confused. Not surprising. This little conclave wasn’t at all what he’d had in mind. “This is just an informal meeting; you’re not in here for official statements. Yet. But it’s a good time to get a few things cleared up.”

“What things?” Mark asked, belligerence building again.

The muscle in Dan’s right cheek twitched. I’d seen that before. He was holding onto his patience. “Let’s start with—why was Sabrina at Carlton’s office?”

“She was delivering a case of wine he’d asked for,” Mark stated. He didn’t look at Dan; instead, he stared into his coffee as if, somehow, salvation would appear out of the steam. “There’s no law against that, is there? Can you keep questioning her without a lawyer?”

“I’ve called one,” Frank said. “Good friend of mine. Specializes in criminal law. He’s on his way up here from Santa Barbara right now.”

Criminal law. The thought made my stomach churn. Or maybe it was the coffee. I set my cup on the floor.

There was a yellow legal pad on Dan’s desk, and he started to make notes on it. “Why didn’t Carlton pick it up himself?”

“Ask Larry. He’s the one who called the winery, asked to speak to Sabrina, and said Carlton wanted a case, wanted it today, and would she please drop it off at his office before noon.”

Dan turned to Larry. “Is that true?”

“Yes.” He didn’t meet Dan’s eyes. He took a large swallow of the coffee, turned red, looked around wildly, then swallowed. He fanned his mouth for a second, then his cup also went on the floor.

Dan waited until it looked like he could breathe again and said, “Why did Carlton have you call the winery? Why didn’t he call himself?”

Larry sighed. “I called Carlton early this morning. About the house. I needed to talk to him and wanted to make an appointment. I don’t think he really wanted to see me, but he finally agreed. He said to come around noon; he’d be gone until then, and asked if I’d give that message to Sabrina. I said I would, and the rest you know.”

“Did he expressly ask for Sabrina to bring the wine?”

“Yes.” Larry stretched his legs out, hit the back of Frank’s chair, and pulled them back and sat up straighter.

“Did he say why Sabrina?”

“No, and I didn’t ask,” Larry replied before Dan could take that one further.

“Unhuh.” Dan leaned back in his chair, a black leather one that swiveled, and took a sip of his own coffee. He made a face and put his cup down on the desk. “So what happened when you got there?”

“I already told the other policemen everything.”

“Humor me.”

“Well,” Larry said, drawing it out. “The front door was unlocked, and I went in, but no one was in the front office. I called out, but no one answered. Carlton’s door was open a little, and I walked in. He was sitting in his chair, all bloody, and Sabrina was standing over him, holding a knife.”

“Then what happened?”

“I said, “Oh my God,’ or something like that.”

“Keep going,” Dan said.

“She looked up at me and said, ‘He’s dead.’”

“That’s all?”

“Yes. I took the knife away from her and put it on the desk, made her sit down in the chair across the room, and called nine one one. I thought I should.”

Dan blinked. I almost laughed. He thought he should call the police when he found a dead body with someone standing over it with what was probably the murder weapon. Right.

Dan finally said, “Okay. That’s all?”

Larry nodded.

Dan sighed a little before he asked Mark, “Did Sabrina tell you she was going to deliver wine to Carlton?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want her to, but she seemed to feel that because he was a partner, she should. I said he was a common thief and had one hell of a nerve even asking, but she insisted she had to.”

“Why?” Dan asked. “Was she angry because she had to do it?”

“No. More nervous than anything. Didn’t want to see or talk to him, but felt she had some kind of duty. Probably more to the winery than to Carlton. Look, Dan. Sabrina didn’t have any motive of any kind to kill Carlton.”

Dan’s face said, oh yeah? And suddenly it hit me. There was really only one motive for anyone to kill Carlton, now, today. He’d seen someone last Saturday night, someone where they were not supposed to be, at a time they were supposed to be somewhere else. That someone had to be the one who killed Otto. Carlton, supposedly broke, had been trying a little blackmail.

Dan must have read my thoughts. Our eyes connected, and he shook his head at me, but too late. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be Sabrina,” I blurted out. “He could have seen anyone.”

“What are you talking about?” Aunt Mary asked.

“She’s talking about Carlton and why he was killed,” Frank answered. “It has occurred to her that our upstanding partner, Carlton, saw someone or something last Saturday night and was trying a little blackmail. Only his payoff wasn’t what he expected. Isn’t that what you think also, Chief Dunham?”

“It had occurred to me.”

“Then any of us could have killed him,” Mark said. “Them.”

“Anyone who was at the dinner could have killed Otto,” Dan said cautiously, “but you all weren’t in Carlton’s office this morning.”

Another silence. “Where is Jolene?” Aunt Mary asked. “And where was she this morning?”

“Why?” Frank turned to her, surprise in his eyes. “Jolene is a piece of work, but I don’t think she could be implicated in any of this. She’s leaving right after the grand opening dinner to go back to Texas, pictures and notes ready for her article.”

“There won’t be an article,” I said.

This time all eyes were on me. “What?” Frank asked.

“Why?” Dan asked. “How do you know?” He looked downright suspicious. “Have you been detecting again?”

“Of course not, but I just happened to call
Dining Delights
this morning and—well—Jolene was fired. A couple of weeks ago, and she won’t be returning.”

This time the silence was shattered by Frank. “That lying bitch.” The tone was low but thick with fury.

Mark’s explosion was more impressive. He was on his feet, his face red, hands clenched, ready to take a swing at something, or someone. “She was fired? No article? Does that mean no article for our dinner either?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “but the woman on the phone said she’d been gone for a few weeks.”

“I wonder if Otto knew,” Aunt Mary said softly.

“Oh my God.” Frank whirled around to stare at her. “I’ll bet that was what their fight was all about that night. That’s why he ordered her out of his house.”

Watching this crowd was interesting, but watching Dan was more. Nothing showed in those blue eyes. He listened, made notes, while he watched everyone else’s emotions overflow. I wondered if they taught that at the police academy, or if he was distancing himself from my family. I hoped it was the police academy. Finally he said, “Interesting point, and we’ll follow through, but so far, no one has placed Jolene anywhere near Carlton’s office. Larry, did you see her this morning?”

Larry jumped as if someone had hit him with a cattle prod. Finally he said, “No—no. Maybe she wasn’t up yet.”

“How about you, Frank. Did you see Jolene?”

“I wasn’t at the house this morning,” Frank replied, a little defensively, I thought.

Dan returned to Larry. “Had Otto found out that Jolene was fired?”

I didn’t think Larry was going to answer. His eye had started to twitch again, and he was tearing little bits of Styrofoam off the lip of his cup and dropping them into the dregs of his now cool coffee. Finally he said, “I think so.”

“You think so, or you know so?” Dan pressed.

“I know so.” Larry looked at Dan directly. “Otto needed a good review and was counting on Jolene.”

Frank snorted. “That was his first mistake. Jolene Bixby has been blackmailing chefs for years. Free dinners, free lodging, a little something under the table or the review will be—not so good. Otto should have known better. And sweet Jolene will be out of my house on her cute little Texas”—he looked at Aunt Mary—“as soon as I get out of here.”

“This is all very interesting,” Dan said, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet, “but it doesn’t change anything. Mark, you will have to sign a statement. Larry, I think you have already, and I’ll probably have to talk to you both again. Now, I’ll go see…”

Before he could finish, the door opened, and a young woman in a sheriff’s uniform poked her head in. “Mrs. Tortelli’s attorney is here.”

Frank and Mark almost collided getting to the door, Aunt Mary right behind them. Dan came around the desk and took my by the arm.

“What made you think to call that magazine?” he asked. “I hate to say it, but you were ahead of us on that one.”

I smiled up at him. “Tell you later. Tonight?”

“Probably not,” he sighed. “But, we’ll see.” He stood next to me for a second, close enough to give me a quick hug, but he didn’t. Instead, he followed the rest out of the room. Damn! I turned to leave, but Larry was in the doorway.

“I probably should have told earlier about Jolene.”

I stopped him from going on. “You probably should have.”

“You sound upset. I hope not. I thought we could go get something to eat. Or maybe just coffee? Or a drink?”

I had had enough. “Larry, I am not going anywhere with you. I am going out there to see what is going to happen to Sabrina, then I’m going back to my office to take care of anything that can’t wait for tomorrow, then I’m going home. I’m considering getting a raging headache and am going to take three Tylenol, a large glass of wine, and sit down and forget all about today, and I plan on doing it all alone.”

I pushed past him but he followed me into the main office, continuing to murmur places we could go, he could buy aspirin for me, and I needed company at a time like this. The only reason I didn’t attack him was the scene in front of me. Sabrina was standing tight beside Mark, Frank on her other side. She looked pale and teary-eyed, but smiled slightly when she saw me.

“Oh, Ellen,” she said. “You’ll never guess. They’re letting me go.”