I did not have Luthor in my sights then, I hadn't met him yet. But I knew someday I would need to protect myself from leaving DNA at a removal, and I put those coveralls away against that day. This gesture was perhaps my own version of a hope chest.
Chapter 6
Friday, May 13
Lia grimaced at the plans on her drawing table. Bailey leaned over, her Cleopatra haircut swinging with the motion. She indicated an area alongside the path. "I was thinking lavender along here."
"Won't it crowd the path once it gets going?" Lia asked.
"Not if we widen the path"
"Maybe. We'll have the same problem with the mint. We want it to fill in but not take over."
"That means digging out the pathway, then pounding sand into the bed. We'll need to fill in the spaces around the pavers with crushed limestone. We'll also need a plastic border along the edge to keep plants from encroaching."
"Catherine's not going to like that."
"She will once she sees the price for brick edging."
Lia nodded, "You make an excellent point, Bailey."
They continued to pore over the drawings for a free-form, paved labyrinth landscaped with herbs to provide aromatherapy. Round pavers would depict oriental symbols for peace, joy, love, harmony, abundance, and energy.
"Does she know Chinese?" Lia asked.
"Doubtful, but it's awfully fashionable, isn't it?"
"Bailey, you're such a cynic."
"I'm a pragmatist and you love me for it. That's what it takes to keep a straight face around some of these so-called arts mavens."
"This project isn't so bad, is it? Lia asked.
"No, it's better than most. We may have a tough time making a profit, though."
"Why do you say that?"
Bailey listed her reasons, "One, I can tell she's going to be insanely particular. Two, she seems obsessed with impressing her friends. Three, this seems to be a case of 'she may know art, but she sure doesn't know what she likes.' Expect materials to be rejected and for her to change her mind a few dozen times. Remind me why we took this job again?"
"Because it's an opportunity to show off our talents. And because we love pain and suffering. Want to see some tile samples?"
"Sure. So what is Dame Catherine's story, anyway?" Bailey asked.
"She's on her second husband. First husband died years ago. Current husband is a recent addition, don't know much about him. She got him through her other friends. Lia emphasized the word just enough for Bailey to notice.
"Other friends? Who are her other friends?"
"You know, the society folks she hangs with when she's not slumming at the dog park."
"Is that what she's doing?"
"Feels like it sometimes, don't you think?" Lia responded.
"I'm not sure what to think of her. The one time I had a conversation with her, she told me I had a certain poise that commanded her attention. But she wasn't sure if anyone else would look past my unfortunate features to notice."
Lia snickered. "You gotta admire a creative backhanded compliment. She really means well, though."
"I guess."
A knock interrupted their mutual eye-rolling. Lia glanced out the window. "We speak, and Madame Devil appears." Lia put on her game face and invited Catherine in.
"Lia, Darling. I'm so glad to see you working." Catherine paused to give Lia air kisses. "I was afraid that awful business with Luthor was going to derail our little project. I can't wait to see what you have for me. Tell me the drawings are finished. Oh, hello, Bailey."
Lia smiled her best business smile. "Just waiting for your approval."
Catherine examined the drawings. "Just marvelous. I love the Chinese symbols on the pavers. But I'm just wondering . . . most people won't know what they mean. Can we put the words in English around the edges, make it repeat as a border?" Behind Catherine, Bailey pointed a slender forefinger into her mouth, gagging silently.
"Not as a mosaic," Lia said, keeping a straight face with effort.
Lia could see the lure of the impossible taking hold as Catherine frowned. "Why not? I think I'd really like that."
"There's only room for something 1" tall. The letter shapes are too intricate for the tile, and the tile would shatter. There would be a lot of waste, and the pieces would be so small they'd be likely to pop out with the first freeze. The labor would be excessive and it would triple the cost of the pavers. And blow our timeline."
"Oh, surely you can come up with something more reasonable."
"We could carve something in the cement, but that means we'd have to flip the stones before they were dry and I couldn't guarantee they'd cure properly. Plus the depressions would gather dirt. And it would just be plain grey, no color"
Catherine sniffed, "Oh, I wouldn't like that at all."
Lia sought to redirect her. "Don't you think the words would be awfully . . . busy? Right now the indigo symbols are on a multi-colored background, for a confetti effect. It's elegant and energetic. To make the words legible, we'd have to go for a solid color background, and then your pavers would look just like something you see in every New Age store in town." Which was exactly where she got the idea, Lia thought.
"Perhaps you're right." Catherine tapped her chin with a French manicured nail.
Bailey picked up on the direction of Lia's thoughts. "I think not having the translations makes it more exclusive, don't you think? Then your guests will need to ask you what they mean. And you'll know them because this is your mantra."
Catherine brightened at this, "What a lovely idea. So how are the plans for the koi pond in the middle coming?"
Bailey took over here and pulled out a diagram showing a large pool with an island in the center accessed by stepping stones. In the center of the island was a circular mosaic bench that allowed you to face all directions.
Catherine sighed in pleasure at the yin yang sign gracing the top of the bench. "I wish the stepping stones in the pond could have mosaics, too."
"We need a textured surface on the stones because water will be splashing on them. With mosaics, the surface would be too slick. You could get hurt. We wouldn't want that."
Catherine pouted, "I suppose you're right. Can we have it finished next month? I want to throw a Solstice party and show it off."
Bailey glowered behind Catherine's back. Her long, expressive hands mimed choking Catherine.
Lia temporized. "It would be cutting it close. I'll check Jose's schedule to see when he can do the excavation. We'd really like to have time to let the pavers cure for a month for maximum strength." She ticked off a timeline. "First the plans need to be approved. Then it will take a minimum of two weeks working full time to cast the pavers, a month for curing. We can get the excavation and landscaping done while the pavers are curing. Then a two week window for installing the pavers. In order to make it work, we'd have to cut back the curing time. And any changes will set the timeline back. We may have to be creative about obtaining the herbs you want since it'll be past prime planting time. They'll just be starting so you won't have full growth until next season."
"Next season? Oh, that won't do. Maybe I should just put in a nice gazebo instead."
Bailey's eyes bulged. Her expression was a mixture of incredulity and outrage.
"Gazebos are so nice," Lia said, "especially the one your friend Yvonne has."
The reminder that a gazebo would not be unique in her set was enough to bring Catherine back onboard. Lia was all smiles as she escorted Catherine out the door with her copy of the contract. Once the door was closed, she slumped against it and let her mask slip.
Bailey shook her head. "Rich people."
"Jose has done some other work for her. He refers to her as the Princess from Jupiter."
"Sounds about right. But she'll have her 'perfect oasis of perfect calm,' as she calls it."
"She'll have hers, what about ours?" Lia asked.
"Mmm. What would that entail?"
"You tell m
e."
"Perhaps a nice little oak grove anointed with blood sacrifice? Catherine's, perhaps?"
Lia laughed. Then suddenly, tears began to trail down her face. "Shit, Bailey, I can't help thinking how much Luthor would have appreciated that."
"It's okay. You're pushing yourself too hard, maybe? No one expects you to be 100%, even if you did break up with him."
~ ~ ~
Twenty-five thousand dollars. That's what the stacks of hundreds tallied up to. The sight of the neat bundles was the last thing Peter expected when he opened the metal box in Morrisey's apartment. Apparently nobody else expected it to be there, since it had been several days since Morrisey died and the box was still there. Money usually meant drugs, but Morrisey's apartment lacked the usual signs of dealing or drug use. Blackmail? Since Morrisey was taking shape as a first class sleaze, Peter didn't doubt his scruples would've bent to allow for taking money for silence. It might explain why he was unconcerned about finishing his book or earning more money. And it provided an excellent motive for murder.
Someone had been smart. Since it was all cash, it couldn't be traced. While the existence of the money tantalized, for now it led nowhere. He'd have to file that away until they had someone in their sights. Twenty-five thousand missing from someone's bank account would be a nice nail in someone's coffin, but he'd have to get close enough to pull their bank records.
He remained convinced that the dog park was involved, but those were working and middle class people. Who up there would be dealing in that kind of cash? Suddenly he remembered his Sunday morning encounter with the histrionic society matron and her two fluff-ball dogs. What were they called? Pekinese? No, Pomeranians. She was old enough to be Morrisey's mother. What could he possibly have had on her?
He shook his head. Speculation, Dourson, pure speculation. Just as likely he was being paid by Lia's NRA buddy to run guns. Or maybe he was a killer for hire. Nah. Morrisey didn't have the stones to pull that off.
He looked around the dumpy, one-bedroom apartment furnished in College Bohemian. The hodgepodge of furniture looked to have varied antecedents, chosen for comfort and probably passed on by friends who were upgrading. He bet the Lazy Boy came from a guy whose new wife made disposal of the chair a condition of the wedding. He smiled at the thought of a pre-nuptial agreement that stated, "marriage shall be considered null and void if said recliner inhabits marital premises as of 12:01 a.m. on wedding date."
He opened Morrisey's closet. Here was where Morrisey spent his money. He may not have cared where he lived, but he cared how he looked. The array of jewel-toned shirts in high-quality fabrics reminded Peter of a peacock. Lizard skin boots kept company with Italian loafers. It seemed a bit rich for Morrisey's blood, but maybe not for the guy with 25K stashed under his Lazy Boy.
Chapter 7
Saturday, May 14
"Ho, Lia, isn't that your young man trodding the path to our little heaven?" Terry gestured towards the access road.
Bailey's bemused expression suggested she had yet to get the hang of Terry's flowery vocabulary.
"My young man?" Lia asked dubiously.
"Ah, yes, our stalwart officer of the law and his newly acquired canine companion. I'd take the lovely Viola, but then the poor lad would have no excuse to bump into our resident artist."
Lia rolled her eyes. "Have you been talking to Anna? Why don't you two go back to passing notes in math class?"
"Oh, but this is math class. And one plus one equals?"
Lia smiled sweetly and handed him two plastic grocery bags. "One plus one equals Jackson and Napa crouching on the other side of that picnic table as we speak. Time for latrine duty, Teddy."
Terry headed for his relieving dogs.
"Teddy?" Bailey asked. "I thought he was Terry."
"Lia's little joke," Anna responded. "She says with little round glasses he'd be a dead ringer for Teddy Roosevelt."
Bailey squinted at the sturdy figure bending over to retrieve Jackson's daily present. "Maybe, I've never seen a picture of Roosevelt from this angle."
Jim chuckled. Viola bounded up and playfully body slammed Honey. Honey took off after her. Chewy started barking. Fleece, as usual, ignored everyone.
"Okay, Little Big Mouth, enough," Lia stated firmly.
Peter walked up. "Little Big Mouth?"
"Chewbacca. It's what I call him when he annoys me."
"I thought he was Chewy?"
"His full name is Chewbacca Wonder Pup, Master of Confusion."
Peter raised his eyebrows.
"His name was supposed to be Chewy," Lia responded to the unasked question. "Marie breeds Schnauzers and she informed me that Schnauzers have too much dignity for such a silly name." She patted her thigh, rubbing Chewy's ears when he propped his front paws on her legs. "She hadn't met you yet, had she, Little Man? Anyway, I gave him a name full of consequence."
"And is Honey just Honey?"
"Oh, I couldn't elevate Chewy and leave her behind. She's Honey Bunny Sunny-Side Up."
"Huh," was Peter's only response.
"Why Detective Dourson!" Catherine announced herself as she moved in next to him. "What brings you to our tiny corner of Cincinnati?"
"Dog's gotta run." He shrugged and used the gesture to dislodge Catherine's hand from his biceps.
"So you're not here to ah - investigate - anyone?" Her emphasis on 'investigate' held prurient notes.
Bailey cleared her throat to stifle a laugh. Anna nudged her and Bailey nudged back.
"Should I be investigating anyone?"
"We're all as innocent as lambs and doves, Detective. I don't think you'll find any guilty consciences here," Catherine announced loftily.
"Oh, I don't know," mourned Anna. "I have to confess to murdering a hot fudge sundae last night.
"Really," said Peter gravely. "And did that murder include cannibalism?"
"Why Detective Peter, you found me out! But you can't prove a thing."
"No?"
"I ate the evidence."
Terry, having rejoined the group, guffawed. "Well turned, my lady! You definitely have more than half a wit!"
Catherine turned to Jim. "Walk with me." Jim followed her obediently, Caesar and Cleo trotting alongside.
"Was it something I said?" Peter asked.
"Oh, Detective Peter," purred Anna, "You committed the gravest of sins."
"Oh?"
"You paid attention to someone else. Terry, I see Jackson and CarGo are paying too close attention to that sweet little lab. We'd better go make sure Louise didn't bring her to the park in heat again."
Bailey pulled Kita's leash out of her back pocket. "I'm going to take Kita for a walk in the woods before I go. I'll call you later about starting Catherine's pavers. Come, Kita!"
"Well, Detective, come have a seat." Lia perched on top of a picnic table in the shade of a towering Hackberry tree. Viola raced back and jumped up next to her, presenting her winsome 'scratch my ears, please' smile.
Peter joined her on the table top. "Dogs sure seem to like you."
Lia obliged Viola. Viola turned her head to make sure Lia got the good spots. "I like them back. Viola and I are great buddies. I wish I could take her but I know my limits."
"She's okay with me for now." Honey, jealous of the attention Viola was getting, shoved her head under Peter's hand. He gave her an absent pat. He sighed. "I promised myself I wouldn't talk business, but I do have a burning question for you. Do you mind?"
"Shoot, Detective."
"Where would Luthor get a large amount of money?"
"Luthor? He didn't have any money. He talked a good game about taking me to Baja after he made a million on his book, but that was all talk."
"What if it wasn't?"
"What are you saying,?"
"I found a significant amount of cash in his apartment."
Lia's look sharpened and her voice steeled. "How significant?"
"Twenty-five thousand dollars."
The look of
amazement on Lia's face confirmed to Peter that she knew nothing. He could see her trying to process this news. "Are you sure it was his money? I've never known him to have any."
"Whose would it have been?"
Lia frowned. "One of his buddies? It wouldn't surprise me if one of those guys was into something shady."
"What makes you say that?"
"Sometimes Luthor would say things that suggested his values were . . . ." She searched for a word, "flexible. He liked the idea of a big score. And I think he enjoyed being on the edge, where his drinking buddies were concerned. He called it research. I called it living vicariously. I could see him falling into some scheme. I don't know, I'm not sure what I'm talking about. Him having money when he was always crying poor stuns me, but on another level, it doesn't surprise me at all. Does that make any sense?"
"Huh."
"Detective, the more I talk to you, the more I wonder where my brain was when I got together with Luthor."
Peter decided a neutral response was the better part of valor. "I'm sorry to upset you."
"Don't apologize. I don't know where the money came from, but in a weird way, it makes me feel less guilty over his death."
Peter thought of other things he could tell her that might remove all her guilt. Seeing her reaction to the news that Luthor had other girlfriends would be informative. But that would violate confidentiality.
"Lia, look at me." He lifted her chin with his index finger.
Her gaze was quizzical.
"The only guilty person is the one who pulled the trigger."
"You don't think breaking up with him was its own kind of trigger?" She asked softly.
"I don't know exactly what happened with your boyfriend, but the money suggests that there was more going on with him than a break-up. I'm just not sure what."
"Will you find out?"
"I don't know. I'll do my best."
"This is a lot to take in. Do you mind if we don't talk about it anymore?"
"Sure, if I can ask just one more question."
"What do you want to ask?"
"Was Luthor left or right handed?"
"Left. Why would you want to know that?" Her confusion had Peter mentally heaving a sigh of relief. If she'd known that, she couldn't have shot Luthor because she wouldn't have made the mistake of shooting him in the right temple.