Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3) (30 page)

Chapter 13

It was past six by the time Carter and I left Shelly’s home.

“Are you hungry?” Carter asked when we got into the car.

“Starving.”

We found a deli style burger joint a mile down the road and we ordered grilled chicken sandwiches.

“I have a hard time believing Shelly is involved in her sister’s death,” I finally said, once the waitress left the table. “What do you think?”

Carter took a sip of his beer. “I think there’s more to Shelly than meets the eye.”

“How so?”

“Can’t explain it,” he said. “I get a weird vibe from her.”

I sort of understood what he meant. I’d known a few so-called Christians who used religion as a virtuous façade and I couldn’t help but wonder if Shelly was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Do you want to go to the church to confirm her alibi for the night of April third?”

“What’s the point?” He leaned back and grinned. “You think she’d bother to give us her alibi if it wasn’t going to check out?”

“Good point,” I said.

Our food arrived and the topic of Shelly ceased. Thank God. I needed a break, just for an hour. I think Carter sensed that as well. Sometimes it’s necessary to give your brain a palate cleanser.

Halfway through dinner, Carter asked casually, “So how are things going with Max? Haven’t seen him in months.”

I sipped my ginger ale and considered telling him the new developments. I have to admit, I was a little reluctant. I was fairly sure Carter would talk me out of moving away but, after a few moments of deliberation, I decided to go ahead and tell him.

“Max got a job in California. He wants me to move there with him.”

Carter blinked a few times and finally said, “When?”

“September. But I need to give him an answer soon, so he can start looking for apartments.”

Carter kept his eyes on me, but there was no expression on his face. “So, are you going?”

“I don’t know yet.”

He lowered his gaze to his plate, where he returned the sandwich as if he’d lost his appetite.

“Well?” I said. “What do you think? Is it a bad idea?”

What I really wanted him to say is that he didn’t want me to go. I wanted him to say that it was a mistake. But that’s not what he said.

His eyes came up to meet mine. “You should do what you think is right.”

“Jeesh,” I said. “I’m just asking your opinion, as a friend and as a partner. What should I do?”

“Do you love Max?”

I didn’t know how to answer. “I’m afraid I don’t trust myself when it comes to love. I’m a little too gun shy to jump to that conclusion.”

“Sounds like you’re scared.”

I laughed. “Okay, sure, maybe. But there are other things to consider. Like you, for instance.”

He said, “What about me?”

“Our work is important to me.”

“Don’t let fear hold you back, Sarah. If you think you love Max, you should move with him.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Did he just tell me I should go? “You wouldn’t be upset if I moved away?”

He gave a half shrug. “This isn’t about me, Sarah. Do what you have to do.”

What the heck did
that
mean? Was he upset? Was he angry? Did he care? Was he happy to get rid of me?

“Whatever,” I said, trying to sound unaffected by his nonchalance. “I’ll figure it out.”

Carter opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then he must have changed his mind.

* * *

It was almost 8:00 when Carter dropped me off at my apartment.

“So what’s on the docket for tomorrow?” he asked.

“I think we should concentrate on Ryan Frazier. I’ll go visit his brother and see if I can confirm his alibi. While I’m in the area, I was thinking I’d stop by the police station in Cambridge and talk to Detective Donahue. Maybe he’ll share his personal opinion about Melanie’s case.”

“I know that guy. He’s a good detective, but he’s a condescending prick. Don’t take any shit from him.”

“Duly noted,” I said. “Meanwhile, maybe you could find out when Charlie Cox will be back in the area for business.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

I grabbed my things, opened the door, and waited a few seconds, just to see if he’d say anything more about my undecided move to California. He didn’t.

“Well,” I said. “I guess I will talk to you tomorrow.”

As I walked up the front steps, Carter didn’t drive away. As usual, he waited to make sure I got inside my apartment safe and sound. But this time, I didn’t turn around and wave to him before I entered my dark and lonely pad.

I immediately washed my face, brushed my teeth and crawled into bed.

The rational part of my brain told me not to read anything into Carter’s seemingly indifferent attitude. Not that I expected him to get down on bended knee and beg me not to leave, but he didn’t seem to care one way or the other. I had to admit, I was a little crushed. Okay, maybe more than a little crushed.

Perhaps this was a sign. ; the writing on the wall; the answer I’d been waiting for.

I’m not usually an impetuous person, but I picked up the phone and called Max. I told him I’d made my decision to move to San Francisco with him.

Chapter 14

Wednesday, June 25

As I lay in bed the next morning, it finally hit me. I’d actually told Max I was moving to California.

Oh shit.

Did I do the right thing?

I kept telling myself that it wasn’t a big deal. If things didn’t work out in California, I could always move back. Max was worth the risk, wasn’t he?

Bottom line, I’d make the best of it. I’d been to San Francisco a few times and loved it; the Golden Gate Bridge, Napa Wine Country, mild winters. Yes, that would be a welcome change.

How hard would it be to start over in a new town, where nobody knew me? Would I just put an ad in the pape
r—
private detective for hir
e—
and hope for the best? Or, maybe, I’d try to get a job with an investigation firm. A steady paycheck wouldn’t be a bad thing for a change.

Brian was an adult and living his own life. He probably wouldn’t miss his mother that much. That reminded me that Brian still hadn’t called to cancel our dinner plans. Had he forgotten, or was he actually going to show up this time?

I sent him a quick text to confirm we were still on for that evening. Within a few minutes, his reply came: yes, we were still on for dinner. He’d drive up to Bridgeport and we’d go out for pizza.

My heart felt a little lighter as I shuffled to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. I was looking forward to catching up with my son and that thought cast a warm glow over my heart.

By 8:00 I was showered, dressed and ready to make some phone calls. Greta Stone, Melanie’s agent, was the first on my list.

Greta’s secretary answered and, yet again, informed me that her boss was too busy to speak with anyone at the moment. Could she take a message?

I gave her my name and number and told her I was a private investigator. I didn’t give the reason for my call, hoping Greta’s curiosity would get the better of her. If I heard nothing from her by the end of the day, I could always go to her office and wait around. I could also show up at her house, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate that. I needed her help, and making an enemy of her would not support my cause.

Next on my list was Libby Lenore, the massage therapist. She had a studio in Cambridge just a few blocks from Melanie’s office. When I called the number listed on her website, a cheerful sounding woman’s voice invited me to leave a message, which I did.

My next call was to Candice.

“Hey Sarah, I was just going to call you,” she said. “How are things going?”

I wondered if her aunt had told her that Carter and I had stopped by the house yesterday. “Things are going well. We have a few ideas we’re exploring.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I’m heading down to see your uncle Ryan this morning. Carter found out his wife Heather and he moved back to Cambridge about six months ago.”

“You think he knows something about mom’s death?”

“Were you at Gregory’s fortieth birthday party about five years ago?”

“I was there,” she said. “Are you referring to the fight?”

“Yes. Apparently, your mom called the cops on Ryan and had him arrested.”

“Ryan was out of control. Mom was afraid he’d really hurt Gregory. She didn’t know what else to do.”

“Do you think Ryan resented her for doing that?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, Gregory bailed him out the next day. I figured all was forgiven.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “But I still want to talk to Ryan, and find out if he has an alibi.”

“By the way,” Candice said. “Aunt Shelly told me you stopped by yesterday. She said that you asked her all kinds of questions. What was that about?”

“Just routine stuff,” I said. “Was she upset?”

“No. She understood but I’m just curious. You don’t think she is involved, do you?”

I wasn’t sure what to say so I decided to play the ambiguity game. “I’m trying to remain objective until I have all the facts.”

Candice said nothing for a few seconds. “Okay. I guess I understand. Will you call me later today if you find anything else?”

“Sure, Candice. I’ll do that.”

I spent the next hour scribbling down some notes and by 10:00, I was heading southbound on the turnpike to Somerville. With any luck, Ryan Frazier or his wife would be home.

Chapter 15

Somerville, a suburb of Boston, reminded me of a mini Cambridge with its squares and tree-lined streets. Ryan and his wife lived on the second floor of a condo on the north side of town.

It was almost 11:00 when I parked my car on the street reserved for residents only. I figured my car wouldn’t be towed within the hour, so I took a chance. As I approached the condo, I noticed a blonde woman standing on the sidewalk just outside the building. Those form fitting jeans and halter top revealed just how skinny she was. Bones stuck out everywhere in her back, and she reminded me of an emaciated supermodel. She had several tattoos of Chinese symbols on her back. One of her arms was covered in multi-colored tattoos.

I casually walked around to get a look at her face, and that’s when I recognized her.

I lingered for a few minutes, pretending to text, as I tried to listen to her conversation.

When she ended the conversation she started heading toward the condo.

This was my chance.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Are you Heather Frazier?”

She stopped and turned to look at me intently. Her face wasn’t as pretty in real life. “Yes?”

I told her my name and who I was. “Your niece Candice hired me to look into her mother’s death. Have you seen Candice lately?”

Heather cocked her head as if she didn’t understand the question. Finally, she said, “I saw Candice at the funeral. That was probably the last time. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with her …”

Her voice trailed off and I got the impression she was embarrassed.

“Where is your husband?” I asked. “I’d like to speak with him it’s that’s okay.”

She glanced at her watch. “He’s probably still sleeping. He didn’t get home until one this morning.”

I waited a beat to see if she’d explain why, but she didn’t.

I asked, “Does he still work at a night club called the Cinderella?”

She hesitated. “Yeah, why?”

I figured I’d just come right out and ask her. “Do you remember if he was working on the night of April third?”

“What night of the week was that?”

“A Friday.”

“Then yes, he was working,” she said with confidence. “He works every Friday night.”

“Sorry I have to ask this, but where were
you
the night Melanie died?”

If the question made her feel uncomfortable, she didn’t show it. “I was in Florida from Thursday to Sunday. I had to clean out a storage unit.”

“By the way, why
did
you and Ryan move back here from Florida?”

“Ryan didn’t like his job,” she said. “And he missed the seasons, I guess.”

I had a feeling there was more to that story, but decided I’d let it go for the time being. “Does your husband keep in touch with Gregory?”

Heather shifted her purse from one shoulder to the next as if she was starting to get antsy. Maybe she had someplace to be, and I was preventing her from getting there.

“They talk once in a while,” she said. “But they’re not close, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

She appeared to think it over. “Probably Melanie’s funeral.”

I decided to change the focus of the conversation back to Melanie. “Did you know that Melanie smoked pot?” I asked.

She cleared her throat nervously. “I had no idea until after she died.”

“Did you and Melanie like each other?”

She tilted her head and tossed her long blonde hair out of her face. “We got along fine. I mean, she was always decent to me, but we didn’t hang out. I wasn’t exactly her cup of tea.”

I wondered if Melanie had considered Heather to be low class with the tattoos and skimpy attire. I had to admit, from what I knew of Melanie, the two women were diametrically opposed. “Did you ever suspect that Melanie was having an affair?”

This question got her full attention. “An affair? Who told you that?”

“Gregory has no proof of it, but he seems pretty convinced.”

Heather shrugged innocently. “Well, I wouldn’t know. Like I said, Melanie and I weren’t that close so I doubt she would have confided in me anyway.”

I waved a hand at the condo. “Mind if we go see your husband? It’ll just take a few minutes.”

She nodded. “Okay. If he’s not up, I’ll wake him up.”

As it turned out, Ryan was sitting at the kitchen table in his boxer shorts, cup of coffee in his hands, a day’s worth of stubble on his face. He looked up at me with interest when I entered the room with his wife. The fact that he was wearing only boxer shorts didn’t seem to faze him in the least. So I acted as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“Hey babe,” he said to Heather. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing back a friend.”

Heather smiled wearily. “She’s a private detective. Wants to ask questions about Melanie. Candice hired her.”

I held out my hand to him. “I’m Sarah Woods. Sorry to interrupt your morning.” 

He gestured for me to have a seat and asked if I’d like some coffee. It smelled good, but I declined.

Ryan rubbed his eyes and yawned. “So, what can I do for you, Ms. Woods?”

“Well, I’m contacting all of Melanie’s friends and relatives and trying to secure alibi’s. It’s just routine stuff, really. Heather told me you were working on the night of Friday, April third.”

“That’s right,” he said. “You can call my boss and ask him yourself.”

“Thanks, I will.”

I noticed that Heather was lingering close by, probably wondering how this conversation might materialize.

I kept my attention on Ryan. “I’m curious about your relationship with your brother.”

He seemed surprised. “Why?”

“Well, to be honest, I’m referring to the fist fight at his fortieth birthday party.”

Ryan paused for a second then started laughing. “Oh, that was years ago. Besides, Gregory and I fight all the time. Ever since we were kids, really. It doesn’t mean anything.”

I’ve never understood the love/hate relationship that siblings often have with one another. The fact that I don’t have a sibling is probably why. But I know that siblings are often competitive, which must sometimes cause hard feelings and resentment.

“Melanie had you arrested that night,” I said. “That must have pissed you off.”

He rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t pissed at her. I deserved to spend the night in jail because I was way out of line. I regret embarrassing him in front of all his friends but he got over it. And so did I.”

I didn’t sense any animosity and presumed Ryan was speaking the truth. But I was still confused about what started the fight in the first place. “So, what prompted you to punch Gregory in the nose?”

Ryan chuckled. “He was pissed at me for showing up at his party late. I guess I must have insulted him, but I don’t remember what I sai
d—
I had a few too many beers in me. Anyway, he took the first swing at me and missed. I swung at him out of reflex and my fist just happened to find his face. It was just a stupid misunderstanding.”

“So, you think Melanie overreacted when she called the police on you?”

Ryan looked at me with a puzzled expression, as if I’d asked him a trick question. “Melanie was probably embarrassed. I don’t blame her for doing what she did. Besides, Gregory came to bail me out the next morning.”

“I guess that makes sense to me,” I said.

“So, does Candice think someone other than the drug dealer poisoned her mom?” Ryan asked. “Is that why you’re investigating?”

“Yes,” I replied. “That is a theory, but one I haven’t yet been able to prove.”

“God,” he said, suddenly distressed. “You don’t think Gregory had anything to do with it, do you?”

“He was out of the country at the time of Melanie’s death. Unless he hired someone to do it …” I purposely left that thought hanging in the air.

“Jesus,” he said. “You really think that’s a possibility?”

“Do you?”

Ryan shook his head. “No way. I know my brother. He’s a royal pain in the ass, but he’s no murderer.”

“Well,” I said. “Your opinion is duly noted.”

I was about to get up from the table when I decided to revisit the topic of Florida. I just couldn’t buy the lame excuse Heather had given me about the job. “So, just out of curiosity, what was the reason you moved back here from Florida?”

I noticed how Ryan stole a glance at his wife. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat nervously and said, “It was job related.”

“Job related? Meaning you didn’t have one?”

He scratched his chin. “Why does that matter?  It has nothing to do with Gregory or his wife.”

I shrugged as if to say,
maybe it does.

Ryan laughed it off. “Look, I just decided I didn’t like Florida. I didn’t like the place I worked. It’s as simple as that.”

I waited a few beats to see if he’d anything more, but it became clear that he was done talking. I wanted to believe him, but there was something fishy about it all.

I stood up from the table and offered them both an appreciative nod. “I’ve taken up enough of your time already. I should head out.”

Heather kindly escorted me to the door. I could tell she wanted to ask me something. Finally, she said, “So, are there any other suspects you’re looking into? Besides Gregory, I mean.”

I didn’t see the point in sharing information with her, when she obviously wasn’t telling me the entire truth about their move back to Boston. “Not at the moment,” I replied. “But it’s only been a few days. Something might turn up.”

Heather nodded. “Yes, well, good luck.”

“Thanks.”

When I got back to my car, I called Carter and told him about the meeting in great detail.

“What’s your impression of the couple?” he asked me.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Ryan doesn’t seem to hold any resentment toward his brother or Melanie for having him arrested. But the timing of their move back to Boston is still nagging at me. Can you do a little more digging on that?”

“Sure,” he said. “Where are you heading now?”

“I might as well go to the police station and talk to Detective Donahue while I’m here. With any luck, he’ll be there.”

“Good. Call me when you’re done.”