Spiced to Death (29 page)

Maisie came hurrying toward me.

“She’s in the office with Peggy.”

“Well done,” I congratulated her. “Did you have to tie her to a chair?”

“Oh no, she’s quite nice, really.”

“Nice! We’ll see how nice she is.”

I stormed across to the office. Peggy and the woman were drinking from cups that wafted an aroma of chamomile. They sat in the small office that held such unpleasant memories but I was pleased to see that Peggy was adjusting so well.

“Like a cup of herb tea?” she asked.

“In a minute. First, I want to ask this woman a few questions.”

I glared at her. She was wearing a neat business suit in dark blue and looked cool and attractive.

“Remember our last conversation?” I asked. “It was here, a few days ago. We talked about ginger.”

She nodded, bright and friendly. “Yes, of course.”

“You have some explaining to do,” I said hotly.

“It’s all right,” Peggy said. “She’s been telling me about herself.”

I looked at her. The brown eyes, the firm chin and the straight nose made her face just as pretty as I remembered it. Ignore her looks, I told myself—interrogate her.

“You were with me … that day,” I said, not wanting to refer to it in front of Peggy as “the day of the murder.”

“Yes, but I left if you remember.”

“You left
me
but I don’t know where—”

“She’s told me all about it,” Peggy said.

“Please, Peggy, let me do this.”

Peggy drank some tea and nodded. She really was being very placid about it all; perhaps it was the tea. The woman turned to me.

“I left here immediately after I left you. I told you I had another appointment that I couldn’t break. I had to go. I didn’t know anything about Mr. Renshaw’s”—she looked apologetically at Peggy—“well, death, until later.”

“But you were there just before!” I told her. “Why didn’t you come forward and tell the police that?”

She stared in astonishment. “I did.”

I returned her astonishment. “You did?”

“Of course. I went to my other appointment and finished the day in the office. It wasn’t till evening when I turned on the news. I could hardly believe it but I called the police and told them all I knew.”

“Didn’t you know you were my alibi?”

“I wasn’t,” she said resolutely. “How could I be? I had already left.”

“I was a prime suspect—still am to some extent.”

“Ah, yes,” she said. “The Ko Feng. I guessed you must be the Englishman who was brought over for the authentication.”

“She knows more about this than you think,” Peggy told me.

“I don’t doubt it,” I said, regarding her sternly.

“She can explain all that,” Peggy said.

“Peggy, please! I don’t mean just what’s on the television news and in the papers. She also turns up in a lot of places where things are happening.”

“If you’d just let me tell you,” the woman said in an exasperated tone. “About the Ko Feng, about the Marvell Corporation …”

My suspicions returned. She might look delectable but she wasn’t off my “doubtful” list yet.

“You know a lot about it.”

“Yes, I believe I do,” she said coolly.

“How much do you know about the Marvell laboratories in Leonia?”

“I go there from time to time.”

I goggled at her. “When were you there last?”

“Oh, several days ago,” she said cheerfully. She scrutinized me and some kind of memory dawned. “That surely wasn’t you there that day … pulling those funny faces … pretending to be trapped in the environmental lab …”

She looked like she was about to laugh but my face must have resembled the proverbial thunder and she managed to control herself.

“I thought I saw you down the corridor but I told myself it couldn’t be. Then there was the pandemonium when the alarms went off… That wasn’t really you in there, was it?”

She had a sudden attack of coughing but she mastered it and had to dab away a few tears.

“You turn up in a lot of places, don’t you?”

I wasn’t done with her yet. She couldn’t laugh at me and get away with it.

“Why were you at the sale in the church?”

She looked puzzled. “Church? I don’t know what—”

“The food sale—stolen, dangerous, dubious food and drink of all kinds—absinthe, duck’s tongues, mammoths … Isn’t that enough to identify which sale? I mean, how many sales like that do you go to?”

She smiled. It was a sunny smile and she tilted her head to one side in the same charming gesture I recollected.

“I go to all sales like that,” she said.

“Why?” I asked darkly.

She opened a small clasp bag with a silvery mesh material over it and handed me a card. It read
KAY GRENVILLE
and underneath the name was
NEW ENGLAND ASSURANCE COMPANY.

“So that’s how you knew about the Ko Feng,” I said weakly.

“Of course. We insured it.”

“So-o-o-you’re not a mystery woman at all.” I was voicing my thoughts.

“I’m not? What a shame!”

“Wait a minute,” I said suddenly. “You insured that shipment of birds’ nests five years ago, didn’t you?”

She regarded me sharply. “You noticed the similarity too, did you?”

“Don Renshaw noticed it. That was probably what got him killed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant Gaines asked me about that. We didn’t have anything to add, unfortunately.”

Another thought occurred to me. “You went to the sale with Tom Eck, didn’t you?”

She shook her head firmly. “No. I ran into him there. I’ve known him for some time.”

“I can understand why you’d want to be there—you must pick up some useful tips on stolen items. But why does Eck go to sales like that?”

“He puts up the financing for purchases of food products. I see him occasionally at various events. He likes to keep in touch with customers, actual and potential, as well as keep contact with the market.”

“Even the black market?”

“Yes. It’s not too surprising. You’d be staggered at some of the people I see at those sales.”

I nodded. I was recalling that Eck had told me he had been approached by restaurant owners wanting financing from him to buy Ko Feng from Marvell.

“Something else you can tell me,” I said. “What’s the situation regarding the policy that Marvell has with you on the Ko Feng?”

“Funny you should ask …” Those calm brown eyes were examining me contemplatively.

Peggy poured more tea and looked at me inquiringly. I nodded. It seemed to have had a calming effect on the two of them so I might as well join in, although Kay’s role now made more sense.

“Funny how?” I reminded her.

“Marvell filed his claim today.”

“Did he! Now that’s interesting.”

“You know,” she went on and her voice was speculative, “I avoided any contact with you after the murder—after all, I didn’t know you and a few minutes’ conversation about ginger is hardly a basis for forming any judgment about a person. Then during a recent exchange of information with Hal Gaines, he said that Scotland Yard had given you a clean bill—”

“So now you feel it’s safe to talk to me,” I said tartly.

It didn’t upset her a bit. “You’re no longer a prime suspect and Hal Gaines is giving you enough leash that you can do a little investigating. So, I see no reason why I shouldn’t tell you about Marvell and his policy.”

“How much is the policy worth?”

She smiled candidly.

“‘Tell you about it,’ I said—that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you how much it is.”

“So what can you tell me?” I asked. “For instance, are you going to pay off?”

“Our immediate reaction is no. It’s too soon.”

“It’s reaching the police limit. Another two days and it’ll be dropped from the active file. That means they’ll no longer have any faith in the Ko Feng being recovered.”

“True.”

“And what’s your policy?”

“We don’t have one for shipments of this nature. We judge each one on its own merits.”

“You know, you can be very irritating,” I told her. “You say there’s no reason why you shouldn’t tell me about Marvell and his policy and then you proceed to tell me nothing.”

“What else do you want to know?” she said, smiling sweetly.

“You’re judging Marvell’s case on its merits, you said. Okay, what are its merits?”

“We don’t intend to pay off right now. We’re going to give it longer than ten days. How many days? There’s no decision on that yet. We’ll see what comes to light in the next week or two then look at the case all over again.”

“Won’t Marvell be yelling for a settlement all that time?”

She shrugged. “Probably.”

“Your card doesn’t say what you do. Are you an investigator?”

“I do some investigating. We have other investigators too—some of them are working on this case.”

“Any promising leads?”

“Nothing that the police don’t know about. Naturally, some aspects might get more attention from us than the NYPD might give to them. Our interest is primarily to establish what happened to the Ko Feng—theirs is to solve a murder.”

“I’m at the Framingham Hotel,” I told her. “Can we keep in touch?”

“Of course.” A thought occurred to her. “You’re coming to the All-Charities Buffet, aren’t you?”

“Haven’t heard about it, but it sounds like a function I ought not to miss.”

“It’s run by the food and restaurant trade and they hold it at the Park Avenue Towers. It’s an annual affair and it’s tomorrow. Everybody comes.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll be there.”

“I’ll arrange for a ticket at the door for you—be there about noon.”

There was a tap at the door and Maisie entered. “Sorry,” she said. “I need the duplicate register for the storage rooms.”

“Right there.” Peggy pointed to a shelf.

“So it is,” said Maisie with a sigh. “Just where it should be.” She lifted it down. “Things never are in the most obvious place, are they?”

She went out. Kay was about to say something when she caught the exchange of looks between Peggy and me.

“The most obvious place …” I breathed. “Do you suppose that’s what Don meant—?”

“What is it?” Kay wanted to know and Peggy told her of Don’s last words.

“Where is the most obvious place to hide the Ko Feng?” I asked, excited. “In a spice warehouse! Anything that valuable should be in a controlled atmosphere, carefully monitored temperature, protected from—”

Peggy jumped up and pulled the door open, calling after Maisie to come back. She reentered, looking puzzled. Peggy pointed a finger at the register.

“What new shipments have been brought into the storage rooms since the Ko Feng was stolen?” Peggy asked quickly.

Maisie flipped the pages. “Three that same afternoon,” she murmured. We all looked at one another.

“The thief would have wanted to get the Ko Feng into a safe place as quickly as possible,” I said. “He could have got it over here right away.”

Peggy turned the register to see the names.

“Bloomington Food Specialties, they’re a regular customer, have been for years. Who else? Indonesian Spices and Flavors… That’s their shipment of crocus leaves.”

“Crocus?” asked Kay.

“It’s one of their secret ingredients, but they come in all the time.”

“So who’s the third?” Kay asked.

“Manhattan Supply Company,” Peggy read out. “Who are they, Maisie?”

“Never heard of them,” Maisie said promptly.

“What’s their storage number?”

All four of us hurried out of the office and through the aisles of the warehouse. Maisie led the way into the adjacent storage area with its maze of wall and ceiling pipes that controlled the separate environments. Neon strip lights glittered off the shiny white walls and it was chilly and dry. Maisie went to get the storage man.

He was introduced to us as Harry, but it had once been something quite different judging by his Eskimo looks. He seemed very much at home in the cool atmosphere as he looked at the ledger number. He took out a bunch of keys and led us to a large storage locker with a door about seven feet tall.

He opened it and swung the door open.

Maisie squealed. Harry recoiled, gasping something unintelligible. Kay and Peggy stood in horror.

We all looked at the body of a man in a light suit, slumped on the floor. His face was turned toward us and though it was ashen in death, it was instantly recognizable as that of Willard Cartwright.

I
T WAS A VERY
long day. The police station where we now found ourselves was not the kind of place anyone would want to spend five minutes even as a witness. Even the most unflattering of television series showing cops in their natural habitat was not sufficient preparation for the harsh reality. I shuddered to think how much worse it would have been had I not had four other witnesses present when the body of Willard Cartwright was found.

As it was, Lieutenant Gaines was decidedly not cordial. He scowled and sneered and looked threatening but at least the King’s Balm was working. He didn’t chew his lip, his face muscles didn’t twitch and he didn’t once reach for antacid tablets. I was glad it was an interview and not an interrogation, though it could probably fool some people.

Gaines had arrived at the Spice Warehouse quickly, siren screaming. The place had been sealed off and after taking depositions from all the customers and the other staff, it had been closed for the day and the five of us taken to the station.

“You already have mine,” I said when we were told we were being taken to be fingerprinted.

“Yeah, from the last murder,” said Gaines sarcastically.

I didn’t see any of the others from then on. I told Gaines exactly what had happened. He was rough and edgy but I felt he was entitled.

“Two murders in the same place and you’re there both times,” he grunted.

“Was Cartwright killed the same way?” I asked, expecting him to snarl but he nodded.

“Seven-millimeter bullet wound and looks like the same weapon.”

“Had he been dead long?”

“Death occurred late the previous afternoon. Oh, and there is no Manhattan Supply Company.”

He gave me his piercing look. “So … we no sooner get a firm line on our man than you find him murdered.”