Engaged in Murder (Perfect Proposals Mystery) (12 page)

I flashed Mom a closed-mouth smile. Felicity was always her baby. I was her older daughter and that was nice, but being the one older came with responsibilities. Those responsibilities included ensuring the younger one was always happy.

“I won’t let that happen,” I said.

“Promise me, Pepper,” Mom said, her gaze serious. “Promise me that you won’t let them ruin Felicity’s happiness.”

“I promise.”

I was still mulling over what to do with Keith Emry’s proposal party when I found myself back at the Executive Airport.

“Hi, Pepper.” Jimmy leaned over the guard-shack window. “Did you bring more cupcakes?”

“Cookies.” I lifted the bakery box of cookies I’d gotten from a nearby grocery store. It never hurt to bribe the gatekeeper.

“Come on in.” Jimmy raised the gate. I pulled in and parked my old car next to his small beat-up Nissan. He opened the back of the shack. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m well.” I climbed out of the car and slung my purse over my shoulder. Handing him the box of cookies, I declined the offer to come inside the shack. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to look around a bit.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I can do that. Jeb’s getting real funny about security since Randy got offed.” He took the cookies from me.

“I understand.” I ran my fingers along the strap of my purse. “How about if you sign me in and I go talk to Jeb? That way he can tell me himself if it’s okay if I look around.”

Jimmy thought about that for a full thirty seconds. I caught him checking out the cookies through the clear window in the box.

“There are chocolate chip and peanut butter in there,” I mentioned casually.

“Yeah, hey, okay, I’ll sign you in. Let me get you a visitor badge.” He turned and the shack door slammed behind him. I took the moment to assess my surroundings. There was a camera at the entrance of the airport. The fence around the airport was eight feet tall. There was a light post one hundred yards out on either side of the gate.

Behind me were the hangars with wide parking areas for private jets to taxi into. There were about twenty cars parked in groups of two or three. I put my hand over my eyes to shade them from the sunlight. At the far end was a control tower with a handful of radar arrays and blinking lights.

I hadn’t thought about the air traffic controllers. There had to be at least one. I wondered who they were and if they knew the janitor.

The shack door opened. Jimmy had chocolate on the corner of his face. “Here’s your badge. I signed you in as a visitor for Jeb.”

“Great, thanks.” I clipped the visitor badge to my sweater. “Where is his office?”

“He’s in hangar one.” Jimmy pointed to the first building. “It’s like the hangar you were in the other night. Jeb’s office is the first one across from the restrooms.”

“Got it.” I glanced at the hangar. It wasn’t likely I’d run into too many people between me and Jeb, but rules were rules. If I wanted to keep Jimmy’s goodwill, then I needed to see Jeb first. Hopefully he would be just as cooperative.

“I’ll let him know you’re coming.” Jimmy popped back into the shack and let the door slam behind him.

I squared my shoulders and headed toward hangar one. Jeb wasn’t the nicest person in the world. I also wasn’t sure what he thought of me as we had really never talked, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t use my charm and wit to get more information out of him.

The large hangar doors were closed, so I went in through the small metal door. Inside was quiet as a tomb and smelled of oil, jet fuel, and dust. The overhead lights buzzed. There was a single airplane on the far side of the hangar. Lights burned in the office area.

I lifted my chin, pasted on my best smile, and moved forward. “Hello?” I knocked on the open office door. “Mr. Donaldson?”

Jeb looked up from his papers. He had a scowl on his face. His hair was cut even shorter than before, sort of like a Marine’s. I think my dad called them high-and-tight cuts—not that Dad had to worry. He’d been bald most of my life.

Jeb’s eyes were haunted and tired. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Jimmy said I should check with you about coming in and looking around.”

He stood. His clothes were clean and pressed. I remembered what a big man Jeb was. His security uniform skimmed over solid biceps and well-muscled shoulders. The man clearly worked out. “Have a seat.”

I sat in one of the two plastic chairs in front of his desk. “How are things?” I let my concern show in my tone of voice.

He sat down and ran his hand over his face. “This damn investigation has been bad for business.” His brown gaze held a hint of vulnerability and worry.

“You look like you haven’t slept.”

“Why are you here, Miss Pomeroy?” His tone was sharp and suspicious.

“I want to know about Randy Stromer.” I clutched my purse. “I feel sort of responsible for him.” Jeb narrowed his eyes. I raised my hand in a stop motion. “I didn’t kill him, I swear. I’d never seen a dead body before. Heck, I didn’t even realize he was dead. And the police aren’t telling me anything. I can’t sleep, either. I want to know more about him. I want to know why someone would want to kill him.”

“Randy was a good guy with a problem,” Jeb said. “Everyone here knew he had a problem. The only thing I can figure is that he pushed someone too hard or he owed the wrong people money. This is Chicago. Bookies tend to have mob connections.”

“You think it was a mob hit?” I hadn’t thought about mob connections or bookies or anyone like that. I mean, I watched movies and television. I knew these things sometimes happened, but this is the twenty-first century. Surely if it had been a professional hit, they would not have stuffed him into a stall in the ladies’ room. “You know they’re investigating Warren Evans, right? I mean, this is my sister’s fiancé we’re talking about. You don’t think he did it, do you?”

“Mr. Evans seems like an okay guy. I don’t see him doing that unless Randy attacked him, and then, I doubt he would have left him in the women’s bathroom.” Jeb frowned, deepening the lines in his face.

“What do you know about Laura Snow?” I asked. “I assume she’s here all the time and you know her, right?”

“Laura?” Jeb leaned back. “Actually she isn’t here all the time. She works part-time for Mr. Evans’s company. When the economy went south, she picked up the flight attendant job. Otherwise, she works full-time at Shady Tree Manor. It’s a nursing home for the elderly.”

“That’s an odd combination of careers,” I said, surprised.

“Not really. She’s a certified EMT. That works for both being a flight attendant and the nursing home.”

“I hadn’t thought about flight attendants being EMTs. I suppose it kind of makes sense. They are trained for emergencies.”

“It’s their true job—ensuring passenger safety. Don’t let the uniforms fool you. Those people are skilled. My daughter is a flight attendant out of O’Hare.”

“Wow, you must be proud,” I said.

“I am.” Jeb nodded.

“What about Daniel Frasier?” I asked. “Did he know Randy?”

“Everyone knew Randy,” Jeb acknowledged. “Daniel and Randy used to bet against each other. I think they knew the same bookie at one point, but then Daniel got married and straightened up his act. I don’t think those two had done anything together for years.”

Well, this was getting me nowhere. Unless Laura had access to drugs when she worked at the nursing home, but there didn’t seem to be a motive for her to kill Randy. I sincerely doubted Laura was a mob hit man.

“What about the mechanics?” I asked. “There are mechanics that work on the airplanes, right?”

“Yes, the crew does preventative maintenance on each aircraft before it flies again. It’s a thing with Mr. Evans’s company. He says he wants to have a perfect record, and the only way to do that is to ensure a good ground crew and the best pilots.” Jeb looked at his papers. “It costs extra, but that usually evens out with the number of requests for planes. Randy’s death has hurt our reputation. I may have to lay off some of our top mechanics.” He blew out a long breath. “In this economy, there isn’t anywhere local they can go, and if they move to another state, who’s going to buy their homes? Not with the glut of foreclosures on the market.”

“I can see why you’re worried.” I leaned forward. “It sounds as if the sooner we can get this murder figured out, the better—for my sister and for your crew.”

“I’m not an investigator.” Jeb frowned. “I have work here.” He waved over his stack of papers. “Besides, the cops want me to stay out of it. Didn’t they tell you to stay out of it?”

“Yes, but as I said, this concerns my sister and her future happiness. Listen, I get it if you don’t want to investigate. Let me see what I can do,” I said. “Give me access to the grounds and the crew and I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“What about Detective Murphy?” Jeb asked.

“He won’t share anything about the investigation.” I shook my head. “But as far as I can tell, they are only looking at Warren and I really don’t think he did it.”

Jeb narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and let silence surround us. I let him figure out what he was going to do. I had made my case. Now it was up to him to give me permission or not.

“I suppose you’re going to investigate whether I allow you to or not.”

“Yes.” I was honest. “I’d rather enter with a visitor badge on than have to figure out how to sneak past Jimmy.”

Jeb gave me a thoughtful look. “I suppose it would be in my best interest to keep track of when you come and go.”

“Does this mean you’ll let me investigate?” I felt my spirits perk up.

“It means I’ll let you on the property as long as you promise to always sign in with Jimmy and notify me immediately if you discover anything relevant to the case. That means no more sneaking around bribing my guys with cupcakes. Is that clear?”

I cringed. So he knew about the cupcakes. He’d probably hear about the cookies, as well. I might as well admit to it up front. I needed Jeb to trust me. “It’s crystal clear,” I agreed. “I won’t sneak onto the property and I will let you know everything I know as soon as I know it.”

“Good girl,” he said. “The flight crew is out for today. Come back tomorrow around ten. I’ll let Scott—our crew chief—know you’re coming.”

I stood. “Thank you, Jeb. This means a lot to me.”

“If you can solve this thing quick, it will mean a lot to me as well. Now get out of here. I have work to do.”

“Right.” I left the office with a smile on my face. I’d just been given permission to conduct my own investigation into Randy’s murder. There might be something helpful that I could learn. I mean, people would be more prone to tell me things that they wouldn’t tell the cops. After all, I didn’t have the ability to arrest them.

I hitched my purse over my shoulder and left hangar one. The first thing I was going to do was get the lay of the land. That meant walking around all the hangars and looking for entrances and exits. Taking pictures with my camera phone so that I could create a murder board, like the cops on television had.

Maybe, just maybe, I’d get lucky and find the killer before they struck again. Or before my baby sister’s fiancé was arrested.

My cell phone rang as I was walking about the airport. “Hello?”

“Hi, Pepper, this is Cesar.”

“Hi,” I said and put him on speaker so I could take pictures of hangar four with my phone. I tried not to think about how creepy it was to come back to the crime scene armed with nothing but my phone.

“I wanted to let you know I have the video done from your sister’s engagement.”

“Oh, awesome. That was fast.”

“I did some editing and added music and ended with that picture montage you asked for along with their favorite song.”

“Oh, she’s going to love it!” I gushed in anticipation of Felicity’s excitement.

“I’ve got the master stored on my server, but I’ve burned you a DVD. Let me know if you want more than one. I’ll burn more for twenty dollars a pop.”

“Great. I know Mom and Dad will want one and I want an extra as well. I’m building a portfolio. I’ve started my own business planning proposals and engagement parties.”

“Wow, well, remember me if you want more video. I take a lot of footage then cut it down to the very best shots and put it together seamlessly.”

“Send me your price list and I’ll add it to my options.”

“Cool.”

I went to hang up when it occurred to me that he said he had a lot of footage. “Wait . . .”

“Yes?”

“Do you still have the raw footage of that night?”

“Sure, you never know when a client might want something switched out or added. Why?”

“No reason.” I chewed on the inside of my mouth. “Do you mind if I see the raw footage?”

“Sure, I’ll burn it to a separate DVD. Do you mind sharing your reason? It’s a lot of film to watch just for fun.”

“Why don’t you bring both DVDs by my apartment later this evening and I’ll explain.”

“Will do.” Cesar hung up. I took a couple more shots of the empty hangar. It was locked up with yellow crime- scene tape across the door so there was no way I was going to get inside. But at the very least I had all four sides of the building. I could see the doors and the alleyways.

Maybe the pictures would stir some memory in Cesar. Maybe he caught evidence in his raw footage. I was surprised Detective Murphy hadn’t asked to see it yet. I went back to my car, unlocked it, and waved to Jimmy, who waved back. I started old blue up and she hummed like only an old car can. There was something comforting about sitting in a big Oldsmobile boat. If I were ever attacked, I knew old blue would be solid metal between me and a killer.

All in all, it was a good day. Mom behaved herself at lunch for the most part. Jeb Donaldson was receptive to my wanting to investigate, and Cesar was willing to let me see his raw footage.

Everything was coming up roses until I saw the police lights in my rearview mirror. I checked my speed. Okay, so I was six miles per hour over the limit. I thought that was usually okay. I pulled to the side of the road. Maybe he simply wanted me to get over so he could go on by.

Yeah, that didn’t happen. He pulled in behind me and parked. There is nothing more embarrassing than sitting on the side of the road with a cop car behind you. The flashing lights caught everyone’s eye. When you got pulled over, passersby had to slow down and look to see what criminal had been caught in the act. I slumped deeper into old blue.

My heart pounded in my throat and my face was hot from embarrassment. I remembered he’d probably want to see my license and registration. So I grabbed my purse and dug out my driver’s license. I glanced at the awful photo. Why is it that you always look drunk in your driver’s license photo? Did they do that on purpose?

A glance in the mirror told me the policeman had gotten out of his car and was headed toward my car. I opened my glove compartment and pulled out the book with my registration in it. Then I rolled down my window.

“Hello, Officer.” I smiled brightly.

“Miss.” He glanced in the car. “May I see your license and registration?”

“Sure, I have them right here.” I handed him the two pieces of paper. “What’s this all about?”

He glanced at them then slipped them onto the clipboard he carried. “I saw that you came out of the Executive Airport.”

“Yes.” My heart pounded in my chest. I tried to put on my most innocent expression.

“You realize that there was a murder there a few nights ago.” He pinned me with his dark eyes. I could see them through his sunglasses.

“Yes, sir, I’m the one who found the body,” I said and tried not to sound smug.

“Dispatch got a call from an employee telling us that they saw a suspicious woman taking pictures of the hangar where the murder happened.” He tilted his head slightly and lowered his chin. “They gave the description of your car. Were you taking pictures of the hangar?”

“Yes,” I said and folded my hands in my lap. “I didn’t know that was a crime. Besides, I had permission from the head of security, Jeb Donaldson. You can call him and ask. Tell him it was Pepper Pomeroy who took the pictures.”

“It’s not a crime to take pictures,” he said. “But it is suspicious. Have you heard of the saying, ‘If you see something, say something’?”

“Yes.”

He gave a short nod of his head. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Someone did.”

“I see.” I dropped my hands in my lap. “Like I said, I had permission from Jeb Donaldson, the head of airport security, to look around.”

He glanced at my identification and then back at me. “Are you a reporter?”

“No.”

“A private investigator?”

“Oh, gosh, no.” I shook my head. “I’m an event planner. I planned Warren Evans’s marriage proposal to my sister in a plane in that hangar. It’s why I was there and why I found the body.”

“I see. Had you been to the hangar prior to that day?”

“No.” I frowned. “I told all of this to the officers who are investigating the murder. Call Detective Murphy. He’ll tell you I’m cooperative.”

“You do know that it is a crime to interfere with an investigation, right?”

“I wasn’t interfering,” I said. “I was merely taking pictures.”

“I’ll be right back.” He walked back to his vehicle and climbed inside. I could see in my rearview mirror that he was checking my identification on his computer. Thank goodness I didn’t have any outstanding parking tickets and my plates were all current.

There really wasn’t anything he could do. Was there? I glanced at the time on my phone. It was 6
P.M.
Which meant rush hour traffic would be winding down. I still had some work to do at home if I hoped to get the invitations sent out for the engagement party. Plus Cesar was scheduled to come by with the engagement video. Then there was Keith’s event to put together, and I wanted to call Michael today to find out if he was interested in my services and see how he would feel about my fees. I planned to have to negotiate some of the fees, but would stick firm on others. Keith said that Michael had money, so I made a silent promise that I would not undervalue myself or my abilities.

It’s what I had done for so long with Bobby. I had undervalued my love and my worth as a woman and a partner. All out of fear that I wouldn’t find anyone else who would see past my frizzy red hair to the heart underneath.

Silly, I suppose. But truly, I deserved a man like Warren. One who went out of his way to try to please me. Someone who would plan a romantic proposal and know me so well he would have the ring of my dreams already sized and ready to slip on my finger.

What was so wrong with wanting a man who wanted you more than beer, more than pool, more than countless nights at a bar?

Warren showed me there were men out there who were different. Now all I had to do was figure out how to find one.

The police officer slammed his car door and came back to my window with a clipboard in hand. He wrote a note on it. “Your right taillight is out.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

He ripped a pink sheet off the clipboard. “It’s a fifty-dollar fine. I’d recommend you replace both taillights at the same time so that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, sir,” I said and took the ticket along with my ID and registration.

He leaned down into my window. “Let me give you another piece of advice.”

“Okay.” I drew my eyebrows together. He made me nervous with his cool cop gaze.

“Stay away from the murder scene. Too many murderers get involved in investigations. You don’t want to throw suspicion on yourself, now do you?”

“No, sir.” I shook my head. “I simply want to keep the suspicion off Warren Evans. He’s going to marry my sister.”

“Detective Murphy is the best,” the officer said. “He’ll catch the guy who did this—even if that person is Warren Evans. Your involvement will not stop him from finding the killer.”

“I was only trying to help . . .” I looked up with my most innocent expression.

“The best way to help is to let the professionals do their job. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” I said and held back a sigh.

“Good.” He tugged on the bill of his hat. “Take care of yourself and your car.”

“Okay.” I watched him walk back to his car. Then I rolled up my window and put my paperwork away. Sheesh, a fifty-dollar fine all because my back taillight went out. I knew I wouldn’t have gotten a ticket if someone at the airport hadn’t called me out as suspicious. I had to wonder . . . were they really worried about my taking pictures or had I made someone nervous that I might learn something they didn’t want anyone to know about?

This brought me back to Cesar and the raw footage of that day. Maybe, just maybe, he caught something important. Whoever called the cops on me wouldn’t know that. Which meant I didn’t have to go back to the airport to continue my investigation. Unless, of course, there was something left to investigate. But then I’d take Jimmy or Jeb with me and I’d make darn sure my car was working properly.