Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 3) (32 page)

Chapter 19

Thursday, June 25

The next morning around 8:00, I heard my phone chirping as I got out of the shower. I wrapped the towel around me and answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Sarah Woods?” It was a woman’s voice.

“Yes, it is. May I ask who’s calling?”

“My name is Libby Lenore. You left a message for me yesterday.”

The name sounded familiar and then it came to me. “Yes. You’re Melanie’s massage therapist. Thanks for calling me back.” I sat down and reached for my notebook and pen.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I’ve been staying with my dad in Vermont after his hip replacement. He’s almost eighty, and he doesn’t get around too well.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I said. “How long will you be in Vermont?”

“One more day. I’m heading back to Boston tomorrow. So you mentioned on the voicemail that you’re a private detective? What can I help you with?”

“Melanie was a massage client of yours for many years, right?”

“She was one of my best clients.”

“I used to be a massage therapist, too” I said. “So I understand how special that relationship can be. There’s a lot of trust between a client and a massage therapist.”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s true.”

“I know you don’t want to betray a client’s confidence but, in the circumstances, perhaps you can help me out. Did she ever talk about her personal life?”

“Sometimes.”

“What would she talk about?”

“Family, work, stuff like that. She needed to get things off her chest and she knew she could trust me.”

“Did she mention having marital problems?” I asked.

“She complained about her husband from time to time. Trivial stuff. Nothing serious.”

“Did she ever tell you about her affair?”

A long pause. “Affair? I don’t think so. No, she never said anything about it.”

I wondered if she was lying to protect Melanie’s reputation. I decided to move right along. “Did Melanie mention having problems with anyone besides her husband?”

“No,” she said. “Just that drug dealer who killed her.”

“Wait,” I said, my pulse quickening. “Are you talking about Jasmine Thompson?”

“Yeah. She’s the one in prison for poisoning Melanie with that joint, right?”

“Yes. But I wasn’t aware that Melanie had any problems with her.”

“Melanie told me that Jasmine asked her for money. A loan, I guess. She needed fifty grand because her husband was a candidate for this new cancer treatment.”

“And Melanie refused to help her out?”

“Melanie felt awful, but she couldn’t. She didn’t have the cash to give her.”

“Really? I was under the impression that Melanie did very well with her books.”

“Melanie always complained that her husband spent every penny she made. I mean, they had nice houses and nice cars, but no cash in the bank. Melanie even wondered how she was going to continue paying her daughter’s college tuition.”

“Do you remember approximately when Jasmine asked for the loan?”

“I don’t really remember but if I had to guess, probably a few weeks before she killed her.”

My heart sank to my stomach. It appeared as though Jasmine Thompson
did
have motive to kill Melanie. Not a strong motive, but it was enough.

“Are you there?” Libby asked.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m a bit stunned by this. I talked to Jasmine at the prison yesterday, and she never mentioned anything about asking Melanie for a loan.”

“What did you expect,” she said. “She’s a drug dealer. You can’t trust people like that.”

“I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Not anymore.”

“Sorry to cut this short, but I need to help my dad with something. If you want to talk more when I’m back in town, I’d be happy to.”

“I understand. “I’ll be in touch. Thanks for talking to me.”

Chapter 20

When I got off the phone with Melanie’s massage therapist, I felt utterly deflated. Jasmine had conveniently neglected to tell me about asking Melanie for a loan. Jasmine had probably assumed, as had I, that Melanie had plenty of money in the bank. I could imagine that Jasmine felt enraged when Melanie told her she couldn’t help. After all, a person’s life was at stake. If Raul couldn’t afford to have the new treatment, his chances of survival were slim. But would Jasmine really plot Melanie’s death because she refused to help? I had no idea. People do horrible things out of desperation.

I decided to go back and talk to Raul.

When I arrived at his apartment and knocked on the door, Derek seemed surprised to see me.

“Hello, Derek,” I said, trying to keep my voice even and calm. “Is Raul here?”

He invited me in. “He’s in his room. Let me get him for you.”

A few moments later, Raul appeared wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants. His skin was pale and he looked exhausted as he rubbed his eyes.

“Hope this is a good time,” I said. “How are you feeling today?”

“A little better, thanks. How’s the investigation going?”

“I have a few more questions if you’re feeling up to it.”

Derek headed to the door “I’m going to get some groceries. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Raul looked up at him. “Thanks, bro. Do you mind getting some more of that ice cream. My stomach can’t handle anything else, yet.”

“Sure,” he said, and went out the back door without another word.

“So.” Raul turned his attention to me. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Did Jasmine ever tell you that she asked Melanie for a loan?”

He blinked at me. “What are you talking about?”

“She never told you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “How do you know this?”

“This morning I talked to Melanie’s massage therapist. Apparently Melanie confided many things to this woman. It happens a lot with massage therapists. I know, because I used to be one. Anyway, a few weeks before Melanie died, Jasmine asked her for a loan, but she refused her.”

Raul scratched his head and squinted at me. “This is the first time I’ve heard about this. I swear.”

“Well, I hate to say it, but this new information does not bode well for Jasmine.”

He glared at me. “What do you mean? Are you saying Jasmine killed Melanie because she wouldn’t lend her money?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

“Jasmine was under a lot of stress. Time is running out. She gets desperate and asks the only person she knows with money to help her and then, that person tells her no, sorry, can’t help you. Can you imagine the frustration? The resentment and anger?”

Raul just sat there and shook his head. “I’ve known my wife since we were in high school. She would never intentionally hurt anyone. I’d swear my life on it.”

I wanted to believe him. I truly did. Because the thought that I’d been duped by Jasmine didn’t sit well with me.

“So that’s it?” Raul said, throwing his hands up. “You’ve made up your mind? Jasmine is guilty and that’s that?”

“No,” I said. “I haven’t made up my mind. There are a few other leads we’re working on.”

“Like who?”

“Melanie’s husband. He’s still number one on my list. But if he’s involved then he’s covered his tracks well. So far, we can’t connect him to the murder.”

Raul sighed heavily as he collapsed into a chair. “This whole thing is a complete nightmare. It’s all my fault.”

“How is any of this your fault?” I asked.

“Jasmine is not a drug dealer. She only did it for me. Don’t you see, she wouldn’t be in prison right now, like a caged animal, if I hadn’t gotten sick.”

“You can’t blame yourself. Anyone can get cancer.”

He looked into my eyes. All I saw was despair and it made me shudder inside. I didn’t know what else to say to him.

“Promise me you won’t give up on Jasmine,” he said. “She needs someone in her corner.”

I was about to remind him that Jasmine wasn’t my client. I didn’t owe her anything, but there was no point in making him feel worse than he already did.

“I’ll continue following the other leads,” I said. “But you shouldn’t get your hopes up.” Something else occurred to me. “By the way, Jasmine mentioned something about an anonymous donor offered to pay all your medical bills. How did that come about?”

Without the slightest hesitation, he said, “It was my doctor who actually told me about it. He called me a few months ago and said he had great news. An anonymous person donated the money to pay for my new cancer treatment.”

“Your oncologist?”

“Yes.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dr. Fishburn. Why?”

I wrote down the name in my notebook. “I’m just curious; did this happen after Jasmine was arrested?”

He thought about it for a minute. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

“Didn’t you find that sort of odd?” I asked. “I mean, do you have any idea who it could be?”

“No idea. I even asked my doc, and he said he didn’t know who the person was, either.”

“Do you have any friends or relatives who have that kind of money to donate?”

“No. I guess I don’t. It was probably just a Good Samaritan. Why does it matter?”

“Because the timing is interesting.”

All of a sudden, Raul clutched his abdomen, squeezed his eyes shut.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “I’m fine. I get these cramps once in a while. Just a side effect of the new drug.”

I noticed there were beads of sweat on his forehead. I went to the sink, grabbed a paper towel, and doused it with cold water. I handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said, wiping his face.

“Do you want me to stay until your brother comes back from the store?”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”

The nurturing mother in me wanted to dote on this poor guy. Tuck him into bed and make him a bowl of soup. But I was not his mother. He was probably embarrassed and would rather I leave as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry for everything you’ve had to go through,” I said, softly patting his shoulder. “I’ll be in touch, soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he said.

Chapter 21

When I left Raul’s house, I grabbed a quick sandwich to go, and then drove straight to Cambridge.

By 3:00, I was sitting in the lobby of The Channing Hotel, waiting at the bar and sipping on a glass of Pinot Noir. The bar was empty at that hour, so the bartender engaged me in idle chitchat.

Since I knew Charlie was due to check in at any moment, I kept one eye on the reception desk. When a half hour passed and no Charlie, I ordered my second glass of wine.

Finally, at 3:55, I saw a man with red hair enter the lobby with a small rolling suitcase. He wore an expensive looking business suit with polished leather shoes. He approached the reception desk, spoke briefly with the woman, and headed to the elevator with a key card in hand.

I paid my bar tab with a twenty and, because I didn’t want to wait for the change, left the balance as a tip. I grabbed my purse and calmly followed Charlie into the elevator.

Charlie pressed the number 4 button. He glanced at me, and with a smile, kindly asked which floor I needed.

“Actually,” I said, turning to him. “I’m going where you’re going.”

“You’re staying on the fourth floor, too?”

I nodded.

The elevator doors closed and up we went.

“You’re Charlie Cox, right?” I asked him.

His eyes went wide as he stared at me. “Do I know you?”

“My name is Sarah Woods. I’m a private detective. Candice, Melanie’s daughter, hired me.”

He blinked at me. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“She still has questions about her mother’s death,” I replied. “I was hoping you could help me.”

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and the doors opened, but Charlie just stood there gaping at me. “I’m not sure how I can help you,” he said as his expression changed to concern. “How’d you find me?”

“I know a few things about you, Charlie. I know you went to UConn with Gregory Frazier. I also know that you and Melanie had something going on at this hotel.”

There was panic in his eyes. “Wait. Gregory knows?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I want to hear your side of things.”

He shook his head. “Why does it matter anymore?”

An older couple sauntered onto the elevator, so Charlie grabbed the handle of his suitcase and exited the elevator. I followed him down the hallway.

“Can we go to your room and talk?” I called out to him.

His pace quickened. “I’m busy,” he said. “I have a meeting to prepare for.”

“Just give me five minutes. Please.”

He stopped in front of door 420 and turned to me. “Why? What do you want?”

“Were you and Melanie having an affair?”

He paused. “It might look that way, but I swear to you, it wasn’t an affair.”

“Then why did Melanie come to this hotel every time you were in town? And why did she wear a wig?”

Charlie glanced up and down the hall, clearly paranoid. “Would you please lower your voice.”

“Just five minutes.”

He sighed and opened the door. “Okay, you can come in for five minutes. But then you have to leave.”

Once inside the dark room, Charlie offered me a seat at the small table. He turned on one of the desk lamps but kept the curtains drawn. He finally sat down and crossed his legs in an effort to appear casual, but his tense expression spoke volumes. “I thought they caught the person who poisoned Melanie. That drug dealer, what’s her name.”

“Her name is Jasmine Thompson,” I replied. “And she’s not your typical drug dealer. Her husband is dying of cancer and she was growing the marijuana legally.”

He shrugged. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“When was the last time you spoke to Gregory?” I asked.

He paused. “A few weeks ago. Although, he’s left me a few messages recently that I haven’t had a chance to listen to yet.”

Perhaps Gregory had called Charlie to warn him about a nosy private detective. It was just my good fortune that Charlie hadn’t listened to those messages.

“Look,” I said. “It’s been confirmed that Gregory was out of the country when Melanie was poisoned but that doesn’t mean he didn’t hire someone to do it for him.”

Charlie made a face like I had slapped him. “Are you accusing me of something?”

I ignored the question. “Did you see Melanie the morning she died?”

“Yes. She came here that morning.”

At least he was telling the truth about this. “Why?”

“She’d been helping me with something. A personal issue that I’d rather not get into if you don’t mind.”

“A personal issue?”

“Yes.” He fiddled with his tie, then smoothed it out. “It’s not important. But we were not having an affair.”

“Have you ever been to her office?”

“No,” he said.

“Where were you on April third between 7:00 and 8:00pm?” I asked.

He paused for few seconds. “I was having dinner with some colleagues at Joe’s Bar and Grille downtown. Got there around six and left about eight or eight-thirty. After dinner, I came right back to my room.”

“Can you give me the names of your colleagues to confirm that?”

I could tell Charlie was not happy about it, but he took a pen from the desk and scribbled on the hotel stationery. “Call my secretary. She can fax you over the receipt from dinner that night. That should be proof enough.”

“If you and Melanie weren’t romantically involved, why did she wear a disguise when she came here?”

“Because I asked her to. I didn’t want anyone to know I was seeing a sex therapist.”

“You were a client of hers?” I asked.

He nodded.

“I thought she no longer saw clients.”

“We were helping each other out. I needed her advice, and she needed money.”

“Ah,” I said. “So you knew that she was broke.”

“Yes. That’s basically what she implied.”

“Did she tell you it was because Gregory spent all their money?”

“Something like that.”

“Did you know that Melanie was in the process of writing an autobiography?”

“Sure, she’d mentioned it to me.”

“Did she happen to tell you what she was writing about?”

“No.”

I decided to change gears. “Okay, tell me about Gregory’s new girlfriend. What’s her name?”

“He told me but I don’t remember it.”

“Well, what did he say about her?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really remember.”

I had a feeling he knew something so I wasn’t going to let up. “Did he say how they met?”

“Jesus, I don’t know. You’re the detective, why don’t you find out yourself?”

“Just give me a clue. Anything. Please?”

He rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I can’t be sure, but I think he mentioned something about her being a hypnotherapist. Only reason I remember is because Gregory made a joke about it.”

I gasped. There was only one hypnotherapist that I knew about. “Amy Chang?”

He thought about it. “Yeah. I think that’s what her name was.”

A chill crept up my spine. “Did Gregory say how long he’d been dating her?”

“No,” he replied. “I assume he started seeing her after Melanie died.”

“But it’s possible he’s been dating her longer than that?”

Charlie eyed me curiously. “How do you know her?”

“She leases the office right next to Melanie’s. I met her a few days ago. She was there with a client the night of April third.”

Charlie got up and dashed over to the mini bar. He pulled out two small bottles of vodka and emptied both into one glass. He downed half the liquid and then paced the room. “Gregory is like a brother to me, do you understand? We were the best man at each other’s wedding. I swear to you, he’d never kill his wife.”

“Maybe there’s a side to Gregory you don’t know about,” I said. “Maybe the money changed him.”

He stopped pacing and looked at me with hard eyes. “Don’t even try to turn me against him. It won’t work. I’ve known Gregory for twenty-five years. I’ve only known
you
for five minutes and now I regret telling you anything because you’ll just spin this whole thing to fit your theory. The only reason I agreed to talk to you is because I am positive that Gregory is not involved in Melanie’s death.”

“Please keep in mind that I am not here for my own amusement or for my own agenda. Candice hired me to find the truth. If Gregory is involved in her mother’s death, she has a right to know.”

Charlie downed the rest of the vodka and slammed the empty glass on the table. “Damn it. You’ve put me in a tough spot, you know that? Gregory is going to be bullshit when he finds out I’ve been talking to you. I should have known better.” He went back to the mini bar and pulled out two bottles of gin. He emptied them both in the glass and continued pacing the room.

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink anymore,” I said.

He stopped and pointed a finger at me. “If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to leave.”

I didn’t budge. “Look, maybe you are right. Maybe Gregory is innocent. Amy Chang could have poisoned Melanie without his involvement. But first, I need to verify if they were involved prior to Melanie’s death. Will you help me?”

Charlie shook his head resolutely. “Just leave me out of this mess; and, frankly, I’d like you to leave right now.”

I took a business card out of my wallet and placed it on the table. “Here’s my number if you change your mind.”

“I won’t change my mind,” he said. “Don’t contact me again.”

As I entered the elevators to go back down to the lobby, I wondered if Charlie would show up to his business meeting completely hammered. Perhaps he should ditch his colleagues and go to an AA meeting, instead.