Enemies Closer (17 page)

Now it was after eleven and she was hungry. Plus, Clara wanted to keep Ben Radcliffe on his toes. “Let’s order take-out and I’ll go get it while you wait by the phone.”

“No, no!” He pulled Clara into his lap. “
Now
you’re hungry?”

“Starving!” she said with a big smile.

“Well, if you’re starving, I guess we’d better feed you, but you’re killing me here.”

She wiggled around in his lap, feeling his erection against her thigh. “I can tell, but a girl has to eat.” She kissed his neck, his ear, his forehead. When she leaned back Ben’s eyes were closed and a happy smile curved his lips. “Sandwiches? Sushi? Pasta? What’s close?”

Relenting, Ben said, “Manny’s is close and they have lots of good lunch stuff.”

“What do you recommend?”

He gave her a long, hangdog look before turning to his computer and opening Safari. A few clicks and he pulled up the weekend lunch menu at Manny’s.

Perusing the menu, she said, “Fried egg and avocado, smoked ham and cheese, Reuben on rye. It all sounds good, but I’m going with the club sandwich and a little spinach salad.”

Ben used his cell phone to order a turkey club for Clara and a roast beef and Swiss on rye for himself. When he hung up, he said, “Twenty minutes.”

“Just enough time to make out for a minute or two.”

“Or three,” he said, running his hands from the small of her back to her shoulders before kissing her hungrily, opening her mouth with his own and holding her tight against his chest. She took his face in her hands and returned the kiss with the same passion. He touched her waist, then her breast and cupped her chin, pushing his tongue farther into her mouth.

When their lips parted, Clara felt a little dizzy. Her body was tingling with desire and she had all but forgotten their lunch. “Yum,” she said lazily, “if only I could eat you.” And then she was up, fumbling for her purse and licking her lips.

Ben just smiled at her dreamily. Then, “Here. I’d better give you my key card for the door downstairs. You’ll need it for the elevator too, but the security system for the office isn’t armed, just leave it unlocked on your way out.”

“Back in a flash, baby!” she called as she closed the door behind her.

In spite of the situation, Clara pranced happily down the empty hallway and out the office door, careful to leave it unlocked. When she hit the street the sun was slipping behind a bank of clouds. It seemed the famous Seattle rain was finally going to make an appearance. So far, her trip had been all sunshine and blue skies. She buttoned her tailored black blazer and set off for Manny’s, a growling stomach quickening her pace.

Twenty minutes later, she was leaving the café, take-out bag in hand, when she noticed a grey sports car racing up the hill toward First Street. The driver honked at a group of jaywalking tourists, barely slowing before they dashed out of his way, and when the car passed her, Clara got a clear glimpse of Eddie Perkins in the driver’s seat. She turned and looked down the street toward Dovetail. She wondered whether Eddie always drove in a rage, or if something at the restaurant had aggravated him.
Of course something at the restaurant aggravated him,
she thought,
they’re missing a head chef, their floor manager has been murdered, they might be having some financial issues, and everyone, including myself, has become suspicious of them.
Crossing the street, she hurried back to Ben’s office building. Retracing her steps to Ben’s office, she knocked once and pushed the door open.

And stopped dead in her tracks when she saw that Ben was not alone. A man sat on a chair across the desk from Ben
.
He wore navy blue Converse All-Stars, navy cotton trousers and a pale blue sweater, and he was staring at Clara in surprise. Evidently, he hadn’t been expecting her either. He stood up, and then so did Ben.

“Jack Duvall, meet Clara Gardner. Clara, meet Jack, my business partner.”

“Oh!” she said, curiously relieved. “You know my sister.”

“I do,” he replied, coming over to shake her hand. “My colleague,” he pointed to Ben, “neglected to tell me that he had company. For a second I thought he had finally figured out how to get beautiful women to deliver his lunch.”

“I suppose he did,” said Clara with a smile, “at least this one time.”

Ben took the bag from Clara. “My partner walked in three minutes before you did and hasn’t stopped talking since,” he said, turning to Jack, “or I would have told him that you’d just gone out for lunch.”

“There’s plenty of food, Jack, if you’d like to join us,” Clara said. “Plus I ate a cookie while I waited at Manny’s, so I’m no longer starving.”

“Cookies before dinner?” Jack looked at Ben. “I like her.”

“Me too,” said Ben, pulling brown paperboard boxes from the bag and setting them on a low square coffee table in the middle of the grouping of leather chairs. “Join us, Jack. Clara ordered your favorite.”

“If you really don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” said Clara, sitting down.

Jack looked at Ben for confirmation. He didn’t want to intrude on their lunch, but at the same time he wanted to find out more about Maddy and he was curious about her sister. They hadn’t dated for long, but Jack had begun to care deeply for her. When she’d broken off their relationship he’d been disappointed, and although he respected her decision, it was not his choice. Ben gave him a nod and Jack sat down.

Carrying bottles of water and beer from the little fridge hidden behind a cabinet door, he began unwrapping sandwiches and paper cartons. “How much food did you get?” Ben said in surprise.

“Just about all of it.” Clara’s eyes sparkled. “I got to Manny’s before they finished making up our order and while I waited, I added a few things from the deli.”

“A few?” Ben opened a container of potato salad, another of a chopped Cobb salad, a third containing rhubarb crisp and the last, sliced baguette and butter. “Good thing you showed up, Jack.”

Twisting off the top of a beer bottle, Jack looked earnestly at Clara. “What’s the word on Maddy?”

She regarded him. He was handsome, with olive skin and Bea eyes. There were a few strands of grey in his dark brown hair and some lines around his eyes when he focused on her. His concern was genuine and she wondered why Maddy had never told her about this man and their relationship. “No sign of her, but I think we’re making some progress.” She told him about the witness she and Ben had found the night before and the progress of the police investigation, but left out the large deposits into her sister’s bank account. If the money turned out to have nothing to do with the investigation, then it was nobody’s business but Madeline’s. When she mentioned how Susan’s murder would affect the investigation, Jack’s mouth fell open and he looked at Ben.

“Susan, the manager at Dovetail? Why didn’t you tell me?” He was floored.

Evidently, Ben hadn’t yet told him that part. He replied calmly, “I didn’t get the chance, Jack. You just came in blasting me with questions without waiting for my answers. Then Clara came in…” He shrugged. “Did you know her?”

“Kind of.” Jack still looked shell-shocked. “Maddy and I had drinks with Susan and her boyfriend once when we ran into them at a restaurant. They were in the bar and we didn’t have a reservation, so we joined them while we waited for our table. And I chatted with her a few times when I came in for dinner.” He looked sadly at Clara. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“We’ll get Maddy back,” said Clara, offering Jack half of her club sandwich. “We will,” she said with a definitive nod before taking a bite of potato salad. When she had finished chewing, she said bluntly, “My sister never mentioned you by name.”

If Jack was hurt, he didn’t show it. “She told you she was seeing someone though?”

“Yep. In the fall, and she told me she was no longer seeing someone around Halloween.”

“How often does Maddy do that?”

“Do what?”

“Tell you she’s seeing someone.”

Clara’s eyes glittered and a smile tugged at her lips. “Almost never.”

“Well, that’s something.” Jack finished off his half of the sandwich in a big bite and washed it down with a gulp of beer. “When Maddy broke it off, she said it was because she didn’t have time to devote to a relationship.”

“Do you think that was true?”

“Maybe,” he replied, “but she didn’t have any less time than when we started dating, and I never asked her for more. I had the impression things were getting tough at Dovetail. She stopped talking about work altogether and when I asked her about it, she was evasive. We stopped meeting at Dovetail’s bar. Honestly, if anything else had changed I would have thought it was me. But we were still spending the same amount of time together and she was still calling me just as often. She was just as affectionate, checked in during the day, made breakfast whenever we spent the night together.” Clara could see that Jack was still trying to make sense of his and Maddy’s breakup. “When she called me and broke it off, I was totally blindsided.”

“She
called
you and broke it off? Not in person?” Clara was surprised, but Jack just nodded glumly. “That doesn’t sound like her.” She shook her head. “I mean, maybe if you’d just been out a few times, but not if you were spending that much time together. Not if she was cooking for you.” She shook her head. “That’s so unlike her.”

Ben had been observing the conversation in silence. He had finished his lunch and his beer and now cracked open the bottle of water. Raising an eyebrow significantly, he said, “It was around then that Maddy first brought up her hypothetical financial concerns.”

“I thought that was more recent,” said Clara, perplexed.

Jack looked forlorn. “Maddy did mention her concerns to me but seemed hesitant, so I told her she could talk to you if she was more comfortable. Then we broke up. It never occurred to me that something was seriously wrong.” He looked at Clara. “I guess this is the wrong time to start speculating that Maddy broke up with me because of mitigating circumstances in her restaurant. I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Right now all you should hope for is Maddy’s safe return,” said Clara with a conciliatory smile, “then maybe I’ll speak to her on your behalf.”

They had polished off most of the food and Jack started picking up the cartons and wrappers. “I’ll hold you to that, Miss Gardner.”

Chapter Fifteen

I
n the incident room at police headquarters on Cherry Street, a computer technician had joined the detectives at the conference table. Arriving with his own laptop, a zip drive, a few other pieces of electronics that Judy Carlisle did not recognize, and two cans of Red Bull, he introduced himself as “Wyatt” without making it clear whether this was his first or last name, cracked open a can, and took a long drink.

“Isn’t the Red Bull a little cliché?” she asked, just to give the techie a nudge.

“Absolutely,” he said, unfazed, his eyes settling on the laptop. “I might be able to do all of this right here, or I might have to take this old girl back to my lab,” he said, patting Maddy’s black Macintosh like it was an obedient dog. “Depends entirely on the sophistication of the security.”

Carlisle dropped a sheet of printer paper on top of the closed laptop, and the forensic computer geek picked up the paper and regarded it with genuine disgust. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Wyatt looked from Carlisle to Kincaid to Tanaka as if willing them to tell him it was all a joke. “Your victim keeps all of his usernames and passwords on one sheet of paper? Labeled? What is he, ninety? Who does this?”

Before he could go on, Kincaid replied, “
She
is thirty-something and by all accounts a genius in the kitchen, but obviously,” he gestured at the list of passwords, “not very savvy when it comes to electronic security. At least your job will be easy.”

Wyatt did not look appeased but started plugging things into the USB ports of Madeline Gardner’s computer and opened his own laptop. “I’m just going to make a copy of the hard drive while we look through her records and accounts.”

While the zip drive did its job, the techie looked around the room. “So what’s the story? Is she dead?”

“Missing,” said Kincaid.

“Not a runaway, I take it,” said Wyatt. Again he regarded the sheet of passwords with contempt. “You know, with that piece of paper, a bad guy could take all of her money, ruin her credit, destroy every relationship she has, and divulge her granny’s secret recipe for oatmeal raisin cookies.”

“You can lecture her when we get her home, Wyatt,” said Carlisle. “In the meantime, can we get on with it?”

Wyatt checked the laptop. “Right. Where do you want to start?”

“Bank statements,” was her immediate reply. Carlisle and Kincaid pulled two wheeled desk chairs on either side of Wyatt and made themselves comfortable.

They spotted the irregular deposits right away. Tanaka whistled. “Twelve thousand dollars, seventeen thousand, eight thousand. What are the odds these are lottery prizes?”

“Slim to none,” said Carlisle.

When they didn’t find any other irregularities in Maddy’s bank accounts, Kincaid said, “We gotta ask Michelle Perkins about this today, see if it’s a payout from the restaurant. Something legitimate.”

“Get a warrant for the bank,” said Tanaka.

“Thanks for the advice, Homicide Detective,” said Carlisle, “but Madeline Gardner is missing, not murdered. We can’t get her records.”

Tanaka nodded. “Ah, yes, the benefits of being a homicide dick. Good to know there are a few.”

“Let’s check her email.” Carlisle was eager to get on with it.

Wyatt clicked a few keys and opened Maddy’s email. “She doesn’t even hide the passwords on her laptop.” he said, shaking his head. “Anyone looking over her shoulder in a coffee shop could just read it as she types.”

“Get over it, Wyatt. We have bigger fish to fry,” said Carlisle.

He cracked the top of his second Red Bull and replied, “I’m over it. But I get to have a talk with this lady if you find her.” He was eyeing a copy of the flyer Clara and Ben had printed up the night before. “She’s gorgeous.”

“
When
we get her back, you can have a talk with her. I’m sure a lecture from the geek squad after her ordeal will be just the thing it takes to win her over,” said Kincaid with a pat on Wyatt’s shoulder. “Just the thing.” He turned back to the computer screen. “Now what do we have here?”

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Tanaka, looking bored. “I’m going to go call the DA about some warrants,” he added and left the incident room.

They disregarded mail from online catalogs, department stores, kitchen stores and notifications from social media services. Kincaid started making note of frequent email addresses and opened them to see whom they were from. “Friends, family, colleagues. Let’s read through her correspondence with Michelle and Eddie Perkins.”

They did. Eddie was copied into the conversations between Madeline and Michelle, but rarely participated. The threads were mostly about possible purchases for Dovetail, menu ideas, ordering. They were friendly, but business-oriented and often ended with “Let’s chat tomorrow.”

Kincaid observed, “Looks like Maddy and Michelle are the decision makers. Eddie seems to be a silent partner. At least in the day-to-day business.”

“That jives with what Clara told us,” said Carlisle. “What’s this one?” She pointed to a thread from a few weeks earlier. It was between Michelle and Maddy and the subject was “Susan.”

Michelle started the conversation.

How is Susan working out in the evenings?

Maddy’s reply was terse:

She’s great. Don’t tell me you want her back on days.

No, we don’t need a floor manager during the day. One of our waiters told me he thought she was distracted.

Well, I’m in the kitchen most of the time, but I think she runs a tight ship. I’ve only heard great things about her from the waitstaff and our customers. In fact, Gemma Stein complimented her – and she has high standards. Ask Eddie. He sometimes brings clients in for dinner.

Will do. Just figured I should ask you.

The thread ended there. Kincaid said, “So, Michelle was checking up on Susan. Not much there, but let’s print it out.”

They checked Facebook and Twitter, the restaurant’s Pinterest account. Nothing there. Kincaid looked at Wyatt. “Any chance she has a hidden file on there, full of secrets that would shed some light on her disappearance?”

Wyatt laughed. “I’ll take a look, check her available memory against what we can see here, but this chick is not very computer savvy,” he pointed to the list of passwords, “so I wouldn’t count on it.”

“All right, all right. Why don’t you take the laptop with you and see what you can find.” Carlisle looked at her partner. “Let’s go talk to Michelle Perkins.”

Wyatt packed up his equipment, including Maddy’s laptop, and said he’d be in touch. Kincaid went to the printer and picked up the email conversation between Michelle and Madeline and the printout of Maddy’s bank statements from the last month. “Giddy up, partner.”

They took an unmarked to Dovetail. The tourist traffic was heavy in spite of the rain. “Damn rain,” said Kincaid.

“You love the rain, Jerry.”

“I love the sunshine more. These last few days of California dreamin’ have been great.”

“You love the rain at least as much as you love the sunshine. That’s why you live in Seattle.”

Kincaid shrugged noncommittally, but it was true – he loved the weather in Seattle.

It was close to one when they pulled into a loading zone outside Dovetail. Kincaid slapped the official “Police Vehicle” sign on the dashboard and they walked into the busy restaurant. Greeting them at the door, a waiter offered a table, but Carlisle flashed her badge and asked for Michelle.

“She’s in back. I’ll let her know you’re here,” he said with a concerned smile.

The detectives went to the empty bar to wait and Michelle came out a few minutes later. After surveying the crowded dining room, she said, “We’d better talk in my office.”

Kincaid shot his partner a look; he couldn’t read Michelle’s reaction to this most recent intrusion, but he guessed she didn’t want to make a scene in front of her customers. They followed her to the back room and this time, the pile of blankets and pillows were strewn across the old sofa as if someone had been sleeping there. He wondered if it was Michelle or Eddie.

Michelle closed the door behind them and turned. “What now?”

She looked exhausted. No surprise, considering that her head chef and business partner was missing and her floor manager had been murdered, but Carlisle wondered if problems with her husband, guilt, or even suspicion were also weighing heavily.

Kincaid leaned against the wall. “We came across an email exchange between you and Madeline. It’s from a month ago and regards Susan Burns’s job performance.”

“You came across a personal email exchange?” She looked at the detectives’ blank expressions. “Never mind. I won’t even ask.”

Carlisle was relieved that she didn’t demand to know how they had discovered the email, but she was also a little suspicious of Michelle’s new attitude. The restaurateur seemed resigned, even a bit depressed. Better take advantage; she forged ahead. “Was Susan good at her job?”

Michelle nodded. “She was great at her job.”

Kincaid unfolded a sheet of printer paper from his leather bound notebook and read, “‘How is Susan working out in the evenings? One of our waiters told me he thought she was distracted.’ Something gave you cause for concern.”

Michelle sat down in her desk chair and sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead before answering. “Look, Maddy and I own this place. We talk about everything. If someone says something to me about a staff member who works with Maddy, I’ll ask her about it. She said everything was going great. No big deal.”

Except that it
was
a big deal, thought Carlisle. She could see it in Michelle Perkins’s eyes. “When did Susan start working for you?”

“Five and a half, six months ago. September. She trained days and nights, but we were hiring her for nights.”

“Just dinners?” asked Kincaid.

“Lunches are much less complicated than dinners. Weekdays it’s usually one course, little or no alcohol served, very few desserts, our customers have to get back to the office. Saturday and Sunday are different, but it’s still a short shift, simpler menu. Most of the work in the kitchen is prep for dinner. I spend the mornings in the office doing the ordering, the books, administrative stuff. We have a host, but I take care of the management during lunch. We needed a floor manager to oversee the transition from lunch to dinner when I’m back in the office and Maddy is checking the prep in the kitchen, and then to continue managing front of the house through the dinner service.”

“What did you do before you hired Susan?” asked Kincaid.

Michelle laughed. “We worked much longer hours, detective. We had a glorified host at dinner with a few management duties, but I stayed much later and Maddy came in much earlier. We probably could have hired a floor manager sooner, but Maddy and I are both pretty cautious and we wanted to be sure the restaurant was going to make it before we started hiring extra staff.”

“So she had been working for you since September and a month ago you questioned her work performance?” Carlisle remarked. As the designated bad cop, it was her job to ask any antagonizing questions.

“I didn’t question it,” said Michelle, “I was just checking in with Maddy because I don’t – didn’t work very closely with Susan.”

“But Maddy stayed mostly in the kitchen during dinners. She must not have had a lot of contact with Susan either,” said Carlisle.

Michelle’s nostrils flared, but she kept her temper. “She would know if Dovetail ran smoothly in the evenings, and she certainly saw more of Susan than I did. Plus, Maddy is my partner. As I said, if I hear something about a staff member, I check in with her first.”

“In her reply, Maddy suggested you ask Eddie. Why didn’t you go to your husband first? You must have known that he came to Dovetail for occasional dinners, and as an owner, surely Eddie would have been paying attention to how the restaurant was running? Or did you have reason not to ask him?” Carlisle tipped her head in the direction of the sofa that had obviously been slept on and waited for Michelle to respond.

After a moment’s pause and a deep breath, Michelle replied, “I guess I didn’t think of it, Detective Carlisle.”

Kincaid leaned forward. “Mrs. Perkins, we’ve read your husband’s arrest record in California.”

She said nothing.

“He’s been arrested for assault and embezzlement.”

“And never charged or indicted for either.”

Kincaid nodded sympathetically, but went on, “Michelle,
did
you have some reason not to seek out your husband’s opinion on Susan’s work ethic?”

When Michelle didn’t respond, Carlisle added, “Did you have reason to think his account of her performance might be biased?”

Michelle straightened. “There are always rumors in a restaurant. The staff could have their own reality show with all of the drama that goes on between them. Almost none of it’s true.”

Carlisle was surprised that Michelle hadn’t flat out denied everything. “Almost?”

“Look,” said Michelle, “obviously you’ve been talking to the waitstaff and obviously someone told you that Eddie and Susan had…” She searched for the right phrase. “Been flirtatious or something, I don’t know. But you have to understand, rumors and gossip keep things lively in a restaurant. In the front of the house, the more flirtatious you are, the more money you make, the more popular you are with the customers, the more the restaurant thrives. And I don’t just mean flirting with the opposite sex. I expect my staff to charm men, women and children, old and young, anyone who walks through the front door is to be flattered, pampered, adored, whatever it takes to make our customers want to come back again.”

“Still,” said Carlisle, “that expectation doesn’t extend to relationships between the staff and the owners, does it?”

“Detective, nothing was going on between Eddie and Susan. I’m sure of it. My reason for asking Maddy and not my husband about Susan’s work was not motivated by any suspicion. Their relationship was professional and friendly. That’s all there is to it.”

Both detectives were thinking the same thing: the lady doth protest too much, but Kincaid let it go for now. “Fair enough, Mrs. Perkins, we just have to ask.”

“I understand, but you can imagine how intrusive all of this is. I just want you to find Maddy and bring her home so that everything can go back to normal.” She looked drained and frustrated.

Kincaid continued in a gentle tone, “We were also wondering if you and Maddy had made some large payouts from the restaurant?”

Now Michelle was alert. “Payouts? To whom?”

“To yourselves. Perhaps bonuses? You said earlier that you were both conservative about hiring extra staff until Dovetail was solidly profitable. Did you recently decide to issue a payout in addition to your salaries?”