~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 6
It was raining again, and the group that had been
standing around
outside of the poolhall had disbursed. I pulled up the
hood of my coat,
shrugging deeper into its protective warmth, and
headed towards my car.
I had nearly reached it when someone shouted,
"Detective!!" I turned around to
see the guy who had blocked my entrance on the other
side of the street. He
was walking slowly backwards, his unwavering gaze
fixed firmly on me. He let
the moment drag out, and then nodded slightly and gave
me the peace sign. He
let it hang in the air between us for just a moment,
then tugging the collar
of his coat up around his neck, he turned back around
and walked briskly away.
For some reason, I suppose I had earned his respect.
Smiling smugly to myself, I unlocked my car door and
crawled inside. I sat there for a while,
waiting for the rain to subside while going over all the notes
I'd collected so far. However, no matter how
long I stared at them, things just didn't add up.
Nancy never mentioned the
argument she had had with her brother the night before
his so-called suicide,
nor the fact that she had threatened to remove him
from the inheritance. This
was very important information, and for her to just
leave it out like that
just didn't sit right with me. I got the distinct
feeling that Nancy may have
been harboring something from me, but what? And why?
The rain soon slowed to a drizzle, and I started the
engine, flipping on
the windshield wipers to clear my view. As I drove
away, I felt a sudden
need to talk with Nancy again before making any more
moves on this case. Since
I was already out, I decided I'd pay her a little
visit.
I took advantage of the red light to search my glove
compartment for the card
with her address on it that I had tossed in last week.
Fingering quickly
through papers I kept stacked neatly inside--insurance
forms, maintenance
contracts--I quickly located the card and took it out.
One twenty-five, Sunset Lane.
The light turned green, I slipped the car back into
drive and
pulled off, easing onto the 980 expressway.
A half an hour later, I was cruising down a quiet
street in an upscale
residential neighborhood, the kind where each prim
little home has a lawn that
has been so pampered and well-manicured that each
looks less like grass and
more like a soft green carpet. I slowed to a cruise,
checking the names of
the streets which, instead of being given the expected
names like "Oak" and
"Maple," were named according to various times of
day--Moonlight Drive,
Sunrise Lane, Twilight Circle.
I turned down the next street, cruising slowly until a
cluster of townhouses
came into view. One twenty-five Sunset Lane. This was
it. I pulled up in front
of a large townhouse, situated somewhat higher than
its neighbors, and
surrounded by neatly trimmed shrubbery and rose
bushes. I cut the engine and
took a few minutes to really look around. The
neighborhood was
beautiful, and looked like a page right out of a story
book.
I stepped out of the car and made my way carefully up
the long walkway
that met with the front porch of the townhouse. I
walked up the steps, taking
in the quiet peace of the world after a rain. The rain
had washed everything
clean, and the air smelled fresh, of roses and
jasmine. I drew in a deep breath and
reached up, pressing lightly
on the doorbell, and heard its hollow, soothing tone
echoing throughout the
house. A few minutes later, the large door was opened
by a heavy-set woman
wearing an apron. Her shiny black hair was swept up
neatly, held in place with
a prim maid's cap. The cap itself was enough to
convince me of her status.
"May I help you?" She had an Italian accent, and
except for the blackness of
the hair, she kind of reminded me of my grandmother
when she was younger.
"Hi. Is Mrs. Spiolie home?" I asked.
"Whom may I ask is calling?" She asked.
"Toni Brigatti."
She stepped back, opening the door wider for me to
enter, and I stepped
inside. The floor in the entrance hall shone like
spilled honey as I
followed her down the step into the living room. The
plush carpet here was
immaculately white, and for a brief moment I felt as
if I should have
wiped my feet before entering.
"One momento please." She nodded and departed quickly.
I drew in a
breath, taking everything in. The place was
beautiful. Everything was done
in white. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nancy and
a tall, rather large
fellow appear with concerned looks on their faces.
"Miss Brigatti," Nancy greeted, with her hand
stretched out, looking much
smaller than when I had first met her. Maybe it was
because she was
standing beside the giant of a man who accompanied
her.
"Call me Toni, please," I smiled, politely shaking her
hand.
"Toni, this is Stanley, my husband," She said,
introducing the man who
was with her. I had to crane my neck to look up at
him, and I smiled as we
shook hands, his hand engulfing mine with ease.
"Nice to meet you," He intoned, his baritone voice
appropriately matching his
stature. He had dark hair, graying slightly on the
sides, a strong jaw line,
and eyes that crinkled in the corner when he smiled. I
could tell that he was
much older than Nancy, and he towered over her pale
form. He was darker than
she, and carried the look of one who must spend a
great deal of time in the
sun.
"You have a lovely home," I said, looking around.
"Thank you," she smiled. There was a brief moment of
silence in which Nancy
looked puzzled, probably wondering why I was there. I
cleared my
throat and got to the point.
"Look, Nancy,I'm sorry to have bothered you at such an
unexpected
time, but I needed to ask you a few more questions,
and since I was out and
about I decided to drop by. I...I hope you don't
mind." I also hoped she
believed that line, considering I was about 45 minutes
out of my way.
"Not at all. Please come in," she said, motioning
towards the large sofa
behind a glass coffee table, its base a huge white
elephant trimmed in gold.
"I'll only be a moment," I told her, and sank down.
She and Stanley took a seat in the white loveseats
across from me.
"Could I get you something?" she offered.
"Coffee...tea?"
"No, I'm fine thank you. Listen, Nancy, why didn't you
tell me that
your father had placed you in charge of the estate?"
She looked surprised, "I didn't tell you?"
"Um...no." I said.
"I'm sorry...it must have slipped my mind." She
glanced briefly at her
husband and drew in a breath. "Yes, our father, before
he died, placed
me in charge of the estate."
"The argument you had with your brother the night
before he died, what
was that all about?" I asked, pulling out my note pad
to begin writing.
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "I
hate thinking about
it. It was the last time I saw my brother alive,
Toni."
"You want to tell me about it?" I asked.
"Well, first of all, I think you should know about our
father."
I listened carefully. Her tone, her expression, all
seemed to change when she mentioned her father and
I waited patiently.
"Father," she began, with obvious distaste, her eyes
narrowing as though just saying the word repulsed her.
"Let me rephrase that. Enrico Calibre wasn't my
biological father."
"Wait a minute" I cut in, wanting to make sure I had heard
correctly as this was *very* new information to me. "You mean
and Mike have different fathers?"
"Yes," she nodded and drew in another breath to explain. " I was ten
when mother met Enrico Calibre while vacationing in Hawaii.
Mother was surprised to find out that he was a very wealthy
man. They began dating and fell in love. Mother soon discovered
that she was pregnant. They were married before Mike was born.
When I became an adult Enrico placed me in charge of the estate
and the money long before my brother was old
enough to know anything about anything. But my being in charge was
only temporary."
"What do you mean?"
"Well...Mike, by blood, is the actual sole beneficiary of
the estate of course. After our mother's bitter divorce from
Enrico, he felt that my brother should get the bulk of the
money--actually all of the money--when he came of age and
when he married, after which, my brother would be
fully in charge of the estate. Until then, the money was frozen.
I was given a limited amount to do what I pleased." She
sighed, looking around. "This townhouse is all that I
have. The whole estate is Mike's and Mike's alone.
It was in the will. It
was what Enrico wanted before he died and there was
nothing that I could do
about it."
"I see," I said thoughtfully.
She glanced over at her husband who smiled, grasping
her hand to
support and comfort her. Nancy drew in a deep breath
and continued. " After
Mike turned 21, he never mentioned what was stipulated
in the will and had
even talked of splitting everything with me. But then
he met and began dating
that...that woman, and things changed."
"In what way?"
"Well, he just wasn't the same anymore. He started
talking about taking
these expensive trips--African safaris, trips to China
and Japan, the
Caribbean, and so forth. Toni, he even mentioned
sailing around the world for
a year! Can you believe it?"
Sounded good to me.
"What happened the night of the argument?" I asked.
At that moment, Stanley rose to retrieve a box of
tissues from the table
and held it out to her. She pulled out a few and blew
her nose.
"Well, Mike came by to tell me that he was getting
married."
"You mean to Heather?"
"Yes...there was just something about her...I...I
don't know. Anyway, we
argued about it because I didn't think he was making a
very wise choice
and I voiced my concerns to him. I cared deeply for
him and didn't want to
see him hurt, so I threatened to disinherit him if he
married her."
There was an uneasy silence as the words she spoke
hung heavily in the
air. Sensing this, Nancy looked up from her wadded
tissue.
"The woman's a real gold digger," she added quietly.
"So you thought that if you disinherited Mike...."
"I couldn't, Toni," she answered quickly. "I only
wanted him to think
that I could. I know that he would have found out
eventually."
I arched an eyebrow at her. The realization of what
she was saying and how it all made her
appear didn't seem to affect her at all.
I glanced over at Stanley who met my gaze and
he shrugged slightly.
She seemed to sense what I was thinking and glanced
down at her hands.
"I loved my brother dearly. I wouldn't have hurt him,"
she whispered.
"Mike was in love," Stanley added, coming to his
wife's aid. " No
matter what we told him, or how we tried to advise
him, he wouldn't listen."
"I see," I nodded.
Silence.
"Tell me, the bridge where Mike supposedly jumped from,
the water has
been searched, right?"
"Yes. Repeatedly. Nothing was ever found." Stanley
solemly informed me.
"He wouldn't have taken his own life, Toni." Nancy
said, looking up at
me. "He had too much to live for."
She seemed pretty adamant about that fact and for
obvious reasons. I
looked around once more, taking in the beauty of the
place. Mike certainly had
a lot to live for, I agreed.
"Well," I sighed, rising from my seat. "I guess
that's all for now."
"Toni? Please, you have to find him," Nancy begged.
I stared at her for a moment, her eyes pleading with
me. I didn't know
if I could. "I'll do what I can," I said, walking
towards the door. "Call me
if you think of anything else, okay?" I asked, turning
to look at her.
"I will," she said softly.
We said our good-byes and I stepped out into the
chilled afternoon air.
As I walked to my
car, I couldn't help but think how much this whole
case was beginning to
stink. Right now, I was tired and needed time to
think. I started the engine
and pulled off, headed towards home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 7
"Winslow," I said, smiling into the speaker phone. I
had just stepped
out of the shower, dialed his number and was sitting
on my bed wrapped
in a large bath towel while buffering my hair with
another.
"Hey beautiful!" Winslow's voice sounded through the
intercom. "Miss me?"
"How'd you guess?" I said sarcastically, tossing my
head forward to ruffle the back of my hair with the towel. "And ah,
you can cool it with the flattery bit."
"Hey, can't blame a guy for trying," he chuckled.
I was glad Winslow couldn't see my smile. Although he
could be
annoying at times, I had learned to simply ignore him.
It didn't help
matters that he had a crush on me--at least, according
to the rumors,
anyway--and it might have been amusing had he not been
so damned
irritating. I often reminded him that I preferred
older men, he wasn't
my type and that I wasn't into Bruce Springsteen or
the Rolling Stones.
It didn't seem to help. Ever since he had helped me
out in the Scanlon
murder case involving Hobson's frame up, we had
remained...aquatinted. I owe Winslow, a fact that
I will never admit in public, and after I
left the police department to go solo, I would
sometimes call on him to help me out
with a case. I trusted Winslow to get the information
that I needed and right now, with
this case, I felt that I could use his help.
"What's up?" he asked eagerly.
"Feel like making a little extra cash?" I asked,
tossing the towel I
was using to dry my hair aside. I got up and crossed
the room to my
closet, removed my favorite red silk nightgown and
slipped it over my
head.
"Sure. I can always use the extra cash." he said.
"Well, I need you to do me a favor."
"You got it."
I paused briefly to stare down at the intercom. I
found his willingness
to please me without question eerie, to say the least.
The guy was
simply too much. I cleared my throat and continued.
"Look..I'm working on a case that involves
some serious money
and one of the key players seems a little shady to me.
I wonder if you
could check her out for me You know, keep tabs on her
just for a day. See where she goes, who she sees, what she does....who she does. That
kind of thing."
" She?" Winslow's voice took on a renewed sense of
interest, and I paused to stare down at the phone again.
"Yeah. That should make your job a little easier to bear, you think?" I rolled my eyes.
"Aw..you got me all wrong Toni." He chuckled, "But Gimme whatcha got."
"Well, it's quite possible that this guy may have been murdered so that a lot of money could be collected. I'm not certain, but I want you to check out his fiancee or "ex" fiancee for me. Her name's Heather Langsford and she lives over on Shoreline Drive."
A sudden pause on the other end of the line led me to believe that we had lost the connection and I tapped the phone. "Winslow, you still there?"
"Yep. Just making sure I got everything written down. So you feel this guy may have been killed and that his fiancee may have something to do with it?"
"Or someone else," I added quickly. "It's just a guess and there's still a few other characters out there that I want to check out before I draw any conclusions."
"I'm on it," Winslow answered.
"You got my number, right?"
I could hear a rustling movement on the other end of the line. I imagined he was probably fumbling through the many bits of paper in his pockets for my number.
"Got it right here," he said.
"Let me know if you come up with anything interesting. I'm have to make a few runs tomorrow, but I'll keep in touch. "
"I'm on it."
There was a click and Winslow was gone. I clicked off
the speaker phone
and sat for a few moments before I finally roused the
will to get up. I
slipped on my red silk bath robe, poured myself a
small glass of
wine and settled back on my chase lounge in front of
my bedroom
window, looking out over the top of the apartments in
my neighborhood.
It had stopped raining and the night was falling fast.
Everything had
taken on a bluish hue, and in a few minutes it would
be completely
black, broken only by the twinkling lights from the
neighborhood and the
traffic below. I loved the city, even with all of its
problems and
mysteries, or maybe because of them, but somewhere out
there was a killer and I had to find
him.
Chapter 6
It was raining again, and the group that had been
standing around
outside of the poolhall had disbursed. I pulled up the
hood of my coat,
shrugging deeper into its protective warmth, and
headed towards my car.
I had nearly reached it when someone shouted,
"Detective!!" I turned around to
see the guy who had blocked my entrance on the other
side of the street. He
was walking slowly backwards, his unwavering gaze
fixed firmly on me. He let
the moment drag out, and then nodded slightly and gave
me the peace sign. He
let it hang in the air between us for just a moment,
then tugging the collar
of his coat up around his neck, he turned back around
and walked briskly away.
For some reason, I suppose I had earned his respect.
Smiling smugly to myself, I unlocked my car door and
crawled inside. I sat there for a while,
waiting for the rain to subside while going over all the notes
I'd collected so far. However, no matter how
long I stared at them, things just didn't add up.
Nancy never mentioned the
argument she had had with her brother the night before
his so-called suicide,
nor the fact that she had threatened to remove him
from the inheritance. This
was very important information, and for her to just
leave it out like that
just didn't sit right with me. I got the distinct
feeling that Nancy may have
been harboring something from me, but what? And why?
The rain soon slowed to a drizzle, and I started the
engine, flipping on
the windshield wipers to clear my view. As I drove
away, I felt a sudden
need to talk with Nancy again before making any more
moves on this case. Since
I was already out, I decided I'd pay her a little
visit.
I took advantage of the red light to search my glove
compartment for the card
with her address on it that I had tossed in last week.
Fingering quickly
through papers I kept stacked neatly inside--insurance
forms, maintenance
contracts--I quickly located the card and took it out.
One twenty-five, Sunset Lane.
The light turned green, I slipped the car back into
drive and
pulled off, easing onto the 980 expressway.
A half an hour later, I was cruising down a quiet
street in an upscale
residential neighborhood, the kind where each prim
little home has a lawn that
has been so pampered and well-manicured that each
looks less like grass and
more like a soft green carpet. I slowed to a cruise,
checking the names of
the streets which, instead of being given the expected
names like "Oak" and
"Maple," were named according to various times of
day--Moonlight Drive,
Sunrise Lane, Twilight Circle.
I turned down the next street, cruising slowly until a
cluster of townhouses
came into view. One twenty-five Sunset Lane. This was
it. I pulled up in front
of a large townhouse, situated somewhat higher than
its neighbors, and
surrounded by neatly trimmed shrubbery and rose
bushes. I cut the engine and
took a few minutes to really look around. The
neighborhood was
beautiful, and looked like a page right out of a story
book.
I stepped out of the car and made my way carefully up
the long walkway
that met with the front porch of the townhouse. I
walked up the steps, taking
in the quiet peace of the world after a rain. The rain
had washed everything
clean, and the air smelled fresh, of roses and
jasmine. I drew in a deep breath and
reached up, pressing lightly
on the doorbell, and heard its hollow, soothing tone
echoing throughout the
house. A few minutes later, the large door was opened
by a heavy-set woman
wearing an apron. Her shiny black hair was swept up
neatly, held in place with
a prim maid's cap. The cap itself was enough to
convince me of her status.
"May I help you?" She had an Italian accent, and
except for the blackness of
the hair, she kind of reminded me of my grandmother
when she was younger.
"Hi. Is Mrs. Spiolie home?" I asked.
"Whom may I ask is calling?" She asked.
"Toni Brigatti."
She stepped back, opening the door wider for me to
enter, and I stepped
inside. The floor in the entrance hall shone like
spilled honey as I
followed her down the step into the living room. The
plush carpet here was
immaculately white, and for a brief moment I felt as
if I should have
wiped my feet before entering.
"One momento please." She nodded and departed quickly.
I drew in a
breath, taking everything in. The place was
beautiful. Everything was done
in white. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nancy and
a tall, rather large
fellow appear with concerned looks on their faces.
"Miss Brigatti," Nancy greeted, with her hand
stretched out, looking much
smaller than when I had first met her. Maybe it was
because she was
standing beside the giant of a man who accompanied
her.
"Call me Toni, please," I smiled, politely shaking her
hand.
"Toni, this is Stanley, my husband," She said,
introducing the man who
was with her. I had to crane my neck to look up at
him, and I smiled as we
shook hands, his hand engulfing mine with ease.
"Nice to meet you," He intoned, his baritone voice
appropriately matching his
stature. He had dark hair, graying slightly on the
sides, a strong jaw line,
and eyes that crinkled in the corner when he smiled. I
could tell that he was
much older than Nancy, and he towered over her pale
form. He was darker than
she, and carried the look of one who must spend a
great deal of time in the
sun.
"You have a lovely home," I said, looking around.
"Thank you," she smiled. There was a brief moment of
silence in which Nancy
looked puzzled, probably wondering why I was there. I
cleared my
throat and got to the point.
"Look, Nancy,I'm sorry to have bothered you at such an
unexpected
time, but I needed to ask you a few more questions,
and since I was out and
about I decided to drop by. I...I hope you don't
mind." I also hoped she
believed that line, considering I was about 45 minutes
out of my way.
"Not at all. Please come in," she said, motioning
towards the large sofa
behind a glass coffee table, its base a huge white
elephant trimmed in gold.
"I'll only be a moment," I told her, and sank down.
She and Stanley took a seat in the white loveseats
across from me.
"Could I get you something?" she offered.
"Coffee...tea?"
"No, I'm fine thank you. Listen, Nancy, why didn't you
tell me that
your father had placed you in charge of the estate?"
She looked surprised, "I didn't tell you?"
"Um...no." I said.
"I'm sorry...it must have slipped my mind." She
glanced briefly at her
husband and drew in a breath. "Yes, our father, before
he died, placed
me in charge of the estate."
"The argument you had with your brother the night
before he died, what
was that all about?" I asked, pulling out my note pad
to begin writing.
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. "I
hate thinking about
it. It was the last time I saw my brother alive,
Toni."
"You want to tell me about it?" I asked.
"Well, first of all, I think you should know about our
father."
I listened carefully. Her tone, her expression, all
seemed to change when she mentioned her father and
I waited patiently.
"Father," she began, with obvious distaste, her eyes
narrowing as though just saying the word repulsed her.
"Let me rephrase that. Enrico Calibre wasn't my
biological father."
"Wait a minute" I cut in, wanting to make sure I had heard
correctly as this was *very* new information to me. "You mean
and Mike have different fathers?"
"Yes," she nodded and drew in another breath to explain. " I was ten
when mother met Enrico Calibre while vacationing in Hawaii.
Mother was surprised to find out that he was a very wealthy
man. They began dating and fell in love. Mother soon discovered
that she was pregnant. They were married before Mike was born.
When I became an adult Enrico placed me in charge of the estate
and the money long before my brother was old
enough to know anything about anything. But my being in charge was
only temporary."
"What do you mean?"
"Well...Mike, by blood, is the actual sole beneficiary of
the estate of course. After our mother's bitter divorce from
Enrico, he felt that my brother should get the bulk of the
money--actually all of the money--when he came of age and
when he married, after which, my brother would be
fully in charge of the estate. Until then, the money was frozen.
I was given a limited amount to do what I pleased." She
sighed, looking around. "This townhouse is all that I
have. The whole estate is Mike's and Mike's alone.
It was in the will. It
was what Enrico wanted before he died and there was
nothing that I could do
about it."
"I see," I said thoughtfully.
She glanced over at her husband who smiled, grasping
her hand to
support and comfort her. Nancy drew in a deep breath
and continued. " After
Mike turned 21, he never mentioned what was stipulated
in the will and had
even talked of splitting everything with me. But then
he met and began dating
that...that woman, and things changed."
"In what way?"
"Well, he just wasn't the same anymore. He started
talking about taking
these expensive trips--African safaris, trips to China
and Japan, the
Caribbean, and so forth. Toni, he even mentioned
sailing around the world for
a year! Can you believe it?"
Sounded good to me.
"What happened the night of the argument?" I asked.
At that moment, Stanley rose to retrieve a box of
tissues from the table
and held it out to her. She pulled out a few and blew
her nose.
"Well, Mike came by to tell me that he was getting
married."
"You mean to Heather?"
"Yes...there was just something about her...I...I
don't know. Anyway, we
argued about it because I didn't think he was making a
very wise choice
and I voiced my concerns to him. I cared deeply for
him and didn't want to
see him hurt, so I threatened to disinherit him if he
married her."
There was an uneasy silence as the words she spoke
hung heavily in the
air. Sensing this, Nancy looked up from her wadded
tissue.
"The woman's a real gold digger," she added quietly.
"So you thought that if you disinherited Mike...."
"I couldn't, Toni," she answered quickly. "I only
wanted him to think
that I could. I know that he would have found out
eventually."
I arched an eyebrow at her. The realization of what
she was saying and how it all made her
appear didn't seem to affect her at all.
I glanced over at Stanley who met my gaze and
he shrugged slightly.
She seemed to sense what I was thinking and glanced
down at her hands.
"I loved my brother dearly. I wouldn't have hurt him,"
she whispered.
"Mike was in love," Stanley added, coming to his
wife's aid. " No
matter what we told him, or how we tried to advise
him, he wouldn't listen."
"I see," I nodded.
Silence.
"Tell me, the bridge where Mike supposedly jumped from,
the water has
been searched, right?"
"Yes. Repeatedly. Nothing was ever found." Stanley
solemly informed me.
"He wouldn't have taken his own life, Toni." Nancy
said, looking up at
me. "He had too much to live for."
She seemed pretty adamant about that fact and for
obvious reasons. I
looked around once more, taking in the beauty of the
place. Mike certainly had
a lot to live for, I agreed.
"Well," I sighed, rising from my seat. "I guess
that's all for now."
"Toni? Please, you have to find him," Nancy begged.
I stared at her for a moment, her eyes pleading with
me. I didn't know
if I could. "I'll do what I can," I said, walking
towards the door. "Call me
if you think of anything else, okay?" I asked, turning
to look at her.
"I will," she said softly.
We said our good-byes and I stepped out into the
chilled afternoon air.
As I walked to my
car, I couldn't help but think how much this whole
case was beginning to
stink. Right now, I was tired and needed time to
think. I started the engine
and pulled off, headed towards home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 7
"Winslow," I said, smiling into the speaker phone. I
had just stepped
out of the shower, dialed his number and was sitting
on my bed wrapped
in a large bath towel while buffering my hair with
another.
"Hey beautiful!" Winslow's voice sounded through the
intercom. "Miss me?"
"How'd you guess?" I said sarcastically, tossing my
head forward to ruffle the back of my hair with the towel. "And ah,
you can cool it with the flattery bit."
"Hey, can't blame a guy for trying," he chuckled.
I was glad Winslow couldn't see my smile. Although he
could be
annoying at times, I had learned to simply ignore him.
It didn't help
matters that he had a crush on me--at least, according
to the rumors,
anyway--and it might have been amusing had he not been
so damned
irritating. I often reminded him that I preferred
older men, he wasn't
my type and that I wasn't into Bruce Springsteen or
the Rolling Stones.
It didn't seem to help. Ever since he had helped me
out in the Scanlon
murder case involving Hobson's frame up, we had
remained...aquatinted. I owe Winslow, a fact that
I will never admit in public, and after I
left the police department to go solo, I would
sometimes call on him to help me out
with a case. I trusted Winslow to get the information
that I needed and right now, with
this case, I felt that I could use his help.
"What's up?" he asked eagerly.
"Feel like making a little extra cash?" I asked,
tossing the towel I
was using to dry my hair aside. I got up and crossed
the room to my
closet, removed my favorite red silk nightgown and
slipped it over my
head.
"Sure. I can always use the extra cash." he said.
"Well, I need you to do me a favor."
"You got it."
I paused briefly to stare down at the intercom. I
found his willingness
to please me without question eerie, to say the least.
The guy was
simply too much. I cleared my throat and continued.
"Look..I'm working on a case that involves
some serious money
and one of the key players seems a little shady to me.
I wonder if you
could check her out for me You know, keep tabs on her
just for a day. See where she goes, who she sees, what she does....who she does. That
kind of thing."
" She?" Winslow's voice took on a renewed sense of
interest, and I paused to stare down at the phone again.
"Yeah. That should make your job a little easier to bear, you think?" I rolled my eyes.
"Aw..you got me all wrong Toni." He chuckled, "But Gimme whatcha got."
"Well, it's quite possible that this guy may have been murdered so that a lot of money could be collected. I'm not certain, but I want you to check out his fiancee or "ex" fiancee for me. Her name's Heather Langsford and she lives over on Shoreline Drive."
A sudden pause on the other end of the line led me to believe that we had lost the connection and I tapped the phone. "Winslow, you still there?"
"Yep. Just making sure I got everything written down. So you feel this guy may have been killed and that his fiancee may have something to do with it?"
"Or someone else," I added quickly. "It's just a guess and there's still a few other characters out there that I want to check out before I draw any conclusions."
"I'm on it," Winslow answered.
"You got my number, right?"
I could hear a rustling movement on the other end of the line. I imagined he was probably fumbling through the many bits of paper in his pockets for my number.
"Got it right here," he said.
"Let me know if you come up with anything interesting. I'm have to make a few runs tomorrow, but I'll keep in touch. "
"I'm on it."
There was a click and Winslow was gone. I clicked off
the speaker phone
and sat for a few moments before I finally roused the
will to get up. I
slipped on my red silk bath robe, poured myself a
small glass of
wine and settled back on my chase lounge in front of
my bedroom
window, looking out over the top of the apartments in
my neighborhood.
It had stopped raining and the night was falling fast.
Everything had
taken on a bluish hue, and in a few minutes it would
be completely
black, broken only by the twinkling lights from the
neighborhood and the
traffic below. I loved the city, even with all of its
problems and
mysteries, or maybe because of them, but somewhere out
there was a killer and I had to find
him.