Fatal Feng Shui (23 page)

“What litmus test?” I snapped.

“
My
client is still alive. Whereas
yours
was murdered. Talk about the ultimate feng shui failure!” She whirled on a pointy heel and strode to her car.

chapter 25

I
might as well go ahead and call Linda,” I said to
Sullivan as we watched Rebecca drive away. “Even though the two of them have obviously already concocted a cover story.”

“Yeah.”

Steve looked frustrated. I hesitated, eyeing Pate’s door. “Maybe Pate would tell us the truth about what they’d paid David to do if we asked him straight out.”

“And maybe pigs’ll fly, if you give ’em a hard enough push.”

The sight of a pickup speeding down the hill toward us distracted us. “Looks like David realized he’d dropped his cell phone and is coming back for it,” I said.

He left the engine running as he got out of his truck and approached. Donning an “aw, shucks” demeanor he said, “Hi, guys. Did either of you happen to spot my…”

Sullivan snatched the phone from my grasp and held it aloft. “Bad luck for you, David. We fielded a call from your partner. Rebecca Berringer just verified everything we suspected about you all along.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, now acting surprised and hurt. “You must have misunderstood something.”

“Spare me,” I snapped. “You already played that card, and it didn’t work the first time.”

Sullivan said firmly, “Clear out. Now.”

David gaped at him. “You’re
firing
me?”

“You got it, Skipper. You’re not allowed to set foot on this property again. Or on any Gilbert and Sullivan clients’ property.”

“Hey, dude! Give me a break! All I ever did was keep Rebecca and Pate up to speed on what was happening with Shannon’s remodel. That’s it!”

“And the
real
reason you hired my brother and made him foreman was because you assumed he’d louse up!”

He shrugged, his cheeks reddening. He shifted his gaze to Sullivan. “Please, man. I know you’re ticked at me. But you gotta see it from my side. Rebecca and I are old friends. And my kid’s been sick. I’ve been having a hard time keeping up with his medical expenses. Most of the time, I wasn’t even giving out accurate information. I just made stuff up.
They
were the ones I was scamming, not you guys. They were so eager to get an edge on Sullivan and Gilbert, they fell for it, hook, line and sinker.”

I said, “Just because you were ripping them off, too, doesn’t make things cool between us. You were sabotaging the job here. You turned my brother into your fall guy.
After
you made money off his idea for the workstation. You’re going to be damned lucky if we don’t sue you!”

He held up his palms, his features tight with anger. “Hey, lady. You can believe what you want. But your brother was a moron. I didn’t need to sabotage anything. He kept lousing things up all on his own.”

My anger was getting the best of me. I couldn’t hold my tongue. “He was getting too much evidence about the scams you were pulling on everyone. So you killed him! Shannon must have found that out, so you killed her, too!”

David took a step back, holding up his palms. He looked at Sullivan. “Your partner’s lost her mind. I didn’t kill anybody.”

Sullivan dropped David’s phone into his pocket. “We’ll let the police put all this together. I’m giving
them
your phone, so they can check its list of previous calls.”

“Keep my damned phone,” David growled. “
I,
for one, have work to do today.”

“Yeah? That’s lucky,” Sullivan retorted. “You won’t have it for long, once word of your accepting bribes gets around.”

David gave us the finger as he got back into his still-idling truck and drove off, tires squealing.

Sullivan sighed. “We need to talk to everyone on his crew. Give ’em the option of staying on here and working directly for us.”

I caught sight of Roberto standing in the shadows of a cottonwood at the side of the property, listening. I pointed at him with my chin. “Their boss having been fired might not come as a complete shock.”

Sullivan went into the backyard to talk to the workmen, and I took a seat on the stoop and called Linda. I recounted all of our conversations with David Lewis and with Rebecca Berringer. Linda was quiet and listened without commentary, but her “uh-huhs” and “go ons” were growing more and more grumpy as I went along. After I’d finished, she snapped, “You’re not running DNA tests or anything, are you? I’d hate for us in the CPD to waste our time, duplicating your efforts.”

“Sorry, Linda. I’m not good at waiting quietly in the wings.”

“You need to get better at it, fast, kiddo! First you removed evidence from the attic, and now you got your partner to pose as someone else. How do you think that’ll play out during a trial? Rebecca can simply say that she knew it was Sullivan all along and was just yanking his chain!”

“I never had any illusions that it’d be solid evidence in a court of law. I simply figured it’d be helpful for the police to know that two of the suspects—Rebecca Berringer and David Lewis—were involved in a scam at the expense of the two murder victims.”

“And the people of Crestview, Colorado, are greatly appreciative for all your help. Now quit it!”

“Okay. I’ll…wait in the wings from now on.”

She sighed. “Yeah. Sure you will. I’ll talk to O’Reilly about posting surveillance on you, as soon as possible.”

“That isn’t necessary, Linda.”

“If you keep up with this Junior Detective crap, it sure as hell is! It might just save your life!” She said a snarky “bye” and hung up.

Before I had the chance to feel duly contrite, Ang Chung’s car pulled into the driveway. I rose and watched his carefully measured steps as he neared. “Ang, what are you doing here?”

“Michael called me. He said he’s reconsidered and wishes to rehire me.”

That made no sense. “Steve? Can you come to the porch for a sec?” I called. To Ang, I explained, “Steve and I were just about to leave. And Michael isn’t here.”

“He will be momentarily. I just spoke to him.”

Steve appeared, along with David’s crew members, all of whom were packing it in for the day. As they got into their vehicles and left, Ang gave Sullivan the same explanation for his presence as he’d given me. Sure enough, we heard an engine and spotted Michael’s car on the hill.

Michael emerged from his car and marched toward us. “Oh, good. You two are still here.” Presumably, he meant Sullivan and me.

“Good afternoon, Michael,” Ang said brightly.

Michael ignored him. He was carrying some rolled-up papers and a book under his arm, its title hidden. He brushed past us and let us inside, saying, “I wanted to show you all something.” He ushered us into the kitchen and opened his book on the table. “Look at this. This is a book on feng shui I got out of the Crestview library.” He began to spread out the papers next to the book. “And
these
are the charts that Ang supposedly customized, just for us.”

We followed Michael’s instructions. Or rather, Sullivan and I did. Ang lingered back.

“As you can see,” Michael continued seconds later, “the floor plans for the two houses are totally different, yet every single thing the author labels on the charts for
that
house is echoed exactly on
our
charts. That
should
be impossible, according to feng shui, considering the house layouts were so different to begin with. Furthermore, when you read the next several pages, you discover that the author’s descriptions and cures for the house’s problems are word-for-word identical to ours.” While glaring at Ang, he continued, “Ang
copied
the written report that Shannon paid thousands to have him create for us.”

Sullivan and I studied the published drawing and compared it to Ang’s “
ba-gua
chart.” Michael demanded of Ang: “You’re going to return every penny we paid you!”

Ang turned and started to walk away.

“Stop right there! You owe me a small fortune!”

“No. You brought me here under the false pretense of hiring me!”

“You wouldn’t have come if I told you that I was planning on exposing you!”

“Expose me for
what
?”

Michael gaped at Ang, then cried, “You plagiarized my home’s charts! You charged me a fortune for them! I’ve got the evidence right here!”

Maintaining a serene attitude, Ang replied, “It was a remarkable coincidence that the two houses’ controlling factors were so similar.”

“You’re a crook and a fraud!” Michael shouted at him.

“And
you’re
a fraud of a cook.” Ang sneered. “Shannon told me all about you, about the hepatitis B outbreak at your restaurant that forced you to close your doors. And about the recipes that you stole from other
real
chefs.”

“That’s a lie!”

“You’re a little man,” Ang said, his expression growing fierce. “One of those little hand puppets that they trot out in front of the audience…the marionette that dances for the applause while the puppet master is the one who has all the real genius. You and I both know who that was. It was always Shannon who was the real brains behind your showmanship.”

“Shut up! Get out of my house! I only wish I hadn’t fired you already so I could fire you again. But I will anyway. You’re fired!”

“You were jealous of your wife. You hated her! She was nothing to you but a free ride!”

“You’re speaking about yourself, and you know it! That’s true for you, not me!”

Without another word, Ang swept out the door.

Michael grunted in frustration. “That bastard! Those lies about me!”

“I
did
hear something about the hepatitis outbreak,” I replied.

“That
wasn’t
my fault. But I’m the one who paid the price. Meantime, he got caught in his big lie. I’ll bet every ‘chart’ he’s done ever since he set up shop in Crestview has been copied straight out of this book!”

“Maybe so.”

“
Definitely
so. He’s just flinging lies and accusations at me because he can’t deny his own deceit.”

Steve was still studying the charts, as if oblivious to the drama surrounding him. I nudged him, and he said quietly, “Erin? There is one major departure from the author’s map and the one that Ang did for this house.”

“What’s that?”

He tapped Ang’s drawing of the family room. “The samurai sword.”

I looked at the room and its notations. There was no need for metal whatsoever in the fifth position of the room. In the author’s work that Ang had plagiarized, the spot should have held wood, which we would have easily handled with a coffee table.

“Let me see that,” Michael cried and all but shoved me aside to look at the charts. “You’re right,” he said at length. “I’m pointing this out to the police right away. There was never any feng shui justification for her buying that sword. The weapon that was used to kill my wife was a complete contrivance on Ang’s part. It was all premeditated. That monster killed my wife in cold blood!”

Sullivan and I left. We fell silent during the drive back
to the office. After a few minutes, I remembered to fill in Sullivan on my conversation with Linda Delgardio. Afterward, I remarked, “Michael’s making money hand over fist from his artist wife’s works now that she’s gone.”

“That doesn’t necessarily make him a suspect, though,” Sullivan countered. “It’s not like we can expect him to keep everything hidden away. I mean, he’s having hard luck financially, what with Pate putting the squeeze on him.”

“True, but some of Ang’s accusations…or Antonio’s, rather, which is his real name…hit a nerve with me. I’ll bet Michael was harboring a lot of resentment over Shannon’s refusal to sell way back when they could have gotten full market value for her house. So he’s got a combination of motives.”

Sullivan said, “Although when it came to Shannon, either Michael or Ang would have been killing the goose that was laying his golden eggs.”

“The difference is that
Michael
was able to sell those golden eggs at an inflated price, once his wife was dead.”

chapter 26

T
hough hyperaware of my silent phone that evening,
I didn’t hear anything from Linda or anyone else on the police force. I had a feeling that they weren’t rushing out to arrest anyone based on my meager information. I’d been home for about an hour when our doorbell rang. I went to it and saw Pate standing on the stoop. He wore an exceptionally dashing black wool coat, with the collar turned up in the back. He gave me a charming smile and asked, “I’m sorry I didn’t call first. Am I interrupting your dinner?”

“No, not at all.” I glanced behind me. “Would you like to come in?”

“I can only stay for a minute. I just wanted to let you know I’ve decided to shove off.”

“You’re leaving town?” I silently chastised myself for the stupid question. What else could he possibly mean by “shove off”?

He searched my eyes. “Not immediately, but in the next month or two. Before the end of the year.”

“Where are you going?”

“Eastern Kansas. I got a great deal on some land. In a town that appreciates one-stop shopping.”

“So you’re buying a house there, too?”

“Of course. Near the future site.”

“So what happens to your property
here
?”

He shrugged. “The county seems to think it should be turned into homes in keeping with its surrounding neighborhoods. I talked to a developer, and he assured me that an extra two thousand dollars in top-of-the-line molding will let us jack up the price of each home by another hundred K. At those prices, everybody wins. I’ll build fewer homes, but will make the same profit. ’Course, my partners in BaseMart aren’t exactly thrilled to be dropping the store, but Crestview’s already surrounded by a half-dozen BaseMarts, less than an hour away. We’re already getting the town’s business, whether all you yuppies admit it or not.”

“Michael must be ecstatic, at least. This news will probably double the value of his house.”

Pate chuckled. “Yeah, but it’ll be too late. I bought his house this morning. At the time, the press was all over my wall-to-wall condos, so his property value was bottoming out. He panicked.” His smile broadened. “Can’t wait to see his reaction, once the word gets out that I’m building a prestigious housing development instead.”

“I’d imagine he’ll be less than pleased.” I fought back a smile, unwilling to admit that I felt my client was getting exactly what he deserved. Then again, Tracy was getting quite the shaft. Now Pate’s house would keep its full market value, but she, too, had settled early. I hesitated, trying to think of how to phrase my loaded question. “Did you pay Rebecca and David to sabotage our work at Shannon’s house?”

He gave me a sly wink. “Let’s just let that be water under the bridge.”

“Considering that my brother and my client
died
in that so-called water, I’m not especially inclined to let it go.”

Instantly, he grew somber. “I would never condone the use of violence, Erin. I certainly wouldn’t pay for anyone to act as my hired thug. I can take a lie-detector test if that would assure the police of my innocence.” He sighed. “So. I’ve obviously overstayed my welcome. Already. I wish you only the best.”

“Thank you. I wish you…would go into a different line of work.”

He smirked, shook his head, and left. It was lucky for me that we’d canceled his celebratory dinner. The man was a pure salesman, with the silver tongue to go along with his hair. For all I knew, he could pass a lie-detector test even while claiming he was a Martian.

The next morning was a Saturday, but because we
hadn’t worked the last two weekends in a row, we’d already agreed to put in a full day. We met at our office at nine. Sullivan promptly mentioned that he hadn’t heard anything about new leads in the murder investigation. “Did Linda give you any news?”

“Not a word. We haven’t spoken since my phone call yesterday afternoon.”

“I wonder if she interrogated Pate.”

“I doubt it. He’s leaving town by the end of December, by the way. He’s trying to keep it quiet, but he’s building prestigious houses on his property instead of a store or condos.”

“How’d you hear ’bout that?”

“He stopped by to say good-bye last night.”

“Did he.” He made the words more of an accusation than a question.

“Yes. We talked for all of two minutes, then he left.”

“So you let him inside your house? Right after we discussed how he was in on everything. What’s going on, Gilbert? Did he compliment your designs or something?”

“No! Why did you think that?”

He shrugged. “You seem to get suckered in pretty fast that way…as if the shortcut to your heart is praising your work.”

“That is
so
not true! Give me one example of when I let somebody win me over just by tossing some praise my way!”

He grinned. “You’re right, come to think of it. I must have been thinking of myself. So, what deep and meaningful discussion did the two of you have that led to your change of heart?”

“Like I said. We barely talked. But I’ll never forget how he rescued Hildi from getting run over by a car the other morning. Right before you arrived to drive me to the show.”

Sullivan snorted. “Oh, well then, my God! If he saves a cat from getting crunched, he can’t possibly have been a killer. Everyone knows that killers never have pets, right?”

I clicked my tongue. “This is why you and I should never talk, Sullivan. We should just do our designs together and only speak to our clients…maybe pass notes to each other, or use sign language when we’re alone together. The fact of the matter is, you compulsively put me down.”

“
I
put
you
down? Have you ever listened to your own statements toward me? You’re the one who—”

Mercifully, the door opened at that moment. An instant later, I was taking back my gratitude at the interruption; Rebecca Berringer waltzed into our office. “Steve!” she cried, as if they were long-separated lovers. “Thank
goodness
you’re here!”

“Rebecca. Come to spin more yarns about your dealings with our former contractor?” Sullivan’s surly response to seeing her did wonders to lighten my spirits.

“No. I’m being stalked!”

“You can use our phone to call the police,” I suggested, far too used to her theatrics to be concerned. “Unless they’re the ones stalking you. By the way, Pate told me that he’s moving to Kansas. Is that going to damage your business irreparably?” I asked hopefully.

She cocked an eyebrow. “I’m a survivor, Erin. Rest assured. It was all getting to be too consuming, what with two full-time careers—on TV and in design.” She crossed her arms and regarded me coolly. “I hope you and Steve don’t let your flash-in-the-pan success on
Domestic Bliss
get to your heads. You’ll never come close to the chemistry you had on your TV premiere. You can only be new and fresh to the public once, and you’ve had your shot. You’re already yesterday’s news.”

“It’s big of you to sound so happy for us, Rebecca,” Sullivan said.

Rebecca’s cheeks turned rose-petal red. She must have gotten so riled at me that she momentarily forgot Sullivan was still in the room. She touched her face and said, “You two sure crank up your heat high enough!” In a husky voice, she told Sullivan, “I’m getting all hot.”

I glanced at the thermostat. “It’s set at sixty-eight,” I retorted. I wondered if she was feeling the heat from the police investigation. If so, she might be willing to blab about her client. “Tracy was sure upset at Pate for vowing to develop that land behind his house,” I prompted. “Has Pate heard from her lately?”

Rebecca merely smiled at me. Drat! She was taking the high road for once! What lousy timing!

“Pate and Tracy had nothing to do with the murders. If I were you, though, I’d look closer to home. Michael needs money, and now he’s making beaucoup bucks by cashing in on his wife’s dramatic death.”

“
You
were having an affair with the man!” I cried.

“Once I began to see who he really was, I couldn’t break things off fast enough.” She added under her breath, “Not that
he
can accept that.”

“Michael’s still pursuing you?” I asked, surprised.

“He’s the one stalking me right now!”

“You actually saw him following you?” Sullivan asked.

“Yes! It’s gotten so bad, I’m afraid to go anyplace on my own.”

“Yet you came here by yourself,” I intoned, not inclined to feel sympathy toward her. “And you never hesitated to snatch him from Audrey so that he would appear on your show.”

“I know, but I
shouldn’t
have. That was just business. But being afraid to be alone is just dreadful.” She grabbed Sullivan’s hand and looked at him with pleading eyes. “Do you think you could walk me to my car? I was window-shopping downtown for some clients this morning. Now my car’s a full ten blocks away!”

I rose and grumbled, “Maybe I should turn the thermostat down a notch after all.”

As I changed the setting to sixty-seven, a memory hit me: Taylor had a thermostat in his shabby room. It was on the lone exterior wall, right next to the window. Why would any builder have placed a thermostat in the least efficient place imaginable?

Steve was saying: “Erin and I have a lot of work to do, Rebecca. If he’s really following you, let’s get a police escort for you. That’ll discourage him pretty quick…show him you mean business.”

“No, no. I really don’t want to get the police involved. They have enough on their hands, trying to solve two murders.”

“Actually, Steve, maybe you
should
walk her to her car. I have to run out to Harlem for a few minutes anyway.” (A day or two after collecting my brother’s things, I’d described the apartment to Sullivan, and he’d quickly identified the building as “Harlem”—its nickname among longtime locals.) I glanced at my watch. “I’ll meet you back here in twenty minutes.”

“Why are you going to Taylor’s? Hasn’t his room already been rented out again?”

“Probably. But I want to ask his former landlady something.” I brushed past Rebecca and grabbed my coat. “Be right back.” With the strong feeling that I was about to know once and for all who killed my brother, I rushed out the door.