Plateful of Murder Read online

  I removed my finger from the button but held the mace tight, now unsure whether to feel guilty for accusing him like that or to be even more suspicious. Better to be wary than sorry. “Did you?”

  Someone pounded on his front door before he got the chance to either defend himself or confess.

  “Police. Open up.”

  Michael’s hands tightened on the tray. Through clenched teeth he asked, “Did you call the police?”

  “How could I? My phone’s gone. You should know that; you took it.” I pushed past him and fiddled with the door lock, trying to open it. I called through the door. “I’m here, just a—”

  Michael, having dropped the tray on the hallway table, pulled me away from the door and with one quick turn, unlocked and opened it.

  Corrigan and another cop I assumed was his partner appeared ready to pounce.

  Michael, feet apart and fists clenched by his side, demanded, “Why are you here?”

  “May we come in?” Without waiting for Michael’s response, Corrigan muscled past him. The detective’s eyes took in my disheveled condition and the tray. He cleared his throat and out of the corner of his mouth said, “Sure hope we weren’t interrupting your bedtime snack.”

  “What? No. It’s not what you think.” My relief at seeing Corrigan morphed into outrage.

  He looked up toward the ceiling. “Gather up your things, little lady, you need to come with us right now.”

  Little lady? Were we in the Old West? I’d correct him later on. The current priority was to get away from Michael.

  Michael frowned and placed his hand lightly on my arm. “Why does she have to go?”

  Corrigan’s voice took on a confidential tone. “She’s wanted for questioning.”

  I pulled away from Michael, and in a strong-woman voice said, “Come on. You came here looking for me and here I am. Let me grab my purse and we can go.” A dozen more questions hung in the air, waiting for Michael’s explanations, but my desire to get away from him was stronger than my curiosity about being drugged.

  We were inside the car, me in the backseat, Corrigan and his partner in the front. I leaned as far forward as my seatbelt would let me. “How did you know where to come get me?”

  I could see the scowl on Corrigan’s face as he showed me my cell phone. “Found it in the Ladies’ room at the Shanty.”

  “So that’s where it was.” I grabbed for the phone, hoping Corrigan wouldn’t ask and I wouldn’t tell him about being ‘under the influence.’ “That still doesn’t explain how—”

  “Didn’t take detective work. You were last seen with Adler. Unbeknownst to your protection, you left the restaurant. That led to my conclusion you had gone somewhere with Adler, probably his home.”

  We stopped at a light and he spun around, straining against his seatbelt. His voice was a low rumble. “That was a dumb stunt. You were lucky we found you before anything happened.” His neck muscles bulged.

  “Like what? He’d soil my good name?” I crossed my arms. “I could’ve gotten out of there without your interference.”

  He snorted and hit the gas hard. “Yeah. How? By blinding him with the tea? Or knocking him unconscious with the carnation?”

  My head ached and my tongue felt like it needed a shave. “I would’ve found a way. And what have you done with my car?” That’s right, put him on the offensive.

  For the first time, the other detective spoke. “It’s at the station.”

  “Thank you.” I emphasized the ‘you.’ Sure, that was as childish as sticking my tongue out at Corrigan, but who cared. “And just so you know, going to Michael’s wasn’t my idea. I was drugged.”

  Corrigan gave a short, harsh laugh. “I’ve heard that one before.”

  I wanted to smash my purse into his face. “It’s true. In fact, I want a take a blood test to prove it.”

  His seen-it-all look evaporated. “Did that bastard hurt you?”

  “No. But if you hadn’t come when you did…” I couldn’t finish the thought.

  Corrigan released a breath. “You can get the test done at the station.”

  I steeled myself for Corrigan’s next comment. When it didn’t come, I closed my eyes.

  By the time my eyes opened again, we’d arrived at the police station. Corrigan parked the car. “So you know, the Adler case has moved forward.”

  After donating a vial of blood to prove I’d been drugged, I found my way to Corrigan’s desk. He handed me a cup of coffee. “Sorry it’s not on a silver tray.”

  “Very funny.” I took the cup. Maybe the bitter, hot brew would help get rid of the drumming in my head. “How has the case progressed?”

  “Brought Eagleton in. He should be ready for questioning,” he glanced at his watch, “Right about now.”

  “Are you charging him with murder? Why now?”

  He pulled a chair out. “Have a seat.”

  Once I sat down he followed suit. “Eagleton was always in our sights, but we didn’t have enough on him until now.”

  “What changed?” Curiosity mingled with relief that the evidence pointed to Brody Eagleton.

  Corrigan paused and caught his lower lip between his teeth as if deciding whether to play his whole hand. He leaned forward. “The soon-to-be-former Mrs. Eagleton.”

  “His wife?” My eyes narrowed. “That’s who you left me for last night?” My face turned red, as it dawned on me I sounded like a jealous lover. “I mean what...”

  Amusement danced across his face but quickly disappeared. “She found a letter from her husband to Constance, and insisted on only talking to me. The letter was a threatening one, like the ones Adler showed us. We believe Eagleton sent Constance those letters and then followed through with the threats. Incidentally, we’re going to need those letters from Adler. It’s unclear how they slipped away.”

  I flinched like he’d thrown those letters at me, remembering all too clearly advising Michael to keep quiet about them.

  Oblivious to my potential anxiety attack, Corrigan leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “We were able to ascertain the suspect owns a circular saw, and we know he’s a fan of West Side Story.”

  “Sounds like you have it all wrapped up. Why do you need me?”

  “If he’s charged with murder we want you to press assault charges against him for sending you those threatening messages. He’s been a busy boy.”

  “Press assault charges? Isn’t that sort of overkill?” My faux pas slipped past Corrigan. He didn’t skip a beat.

  “We want to make sure he gets all that’s coming to him. He has an alibi for Mallorie’s murder, but not for Ed’s assault.” Another detective motioned to Corrigan, and he rose. “Make yourself comfortable, Claire. This could take a while.”

  Instead of ‘a while,’ Corrigan should have warned me it would take until infinity. After fifteen minutes of sitting, I paced for a while. Sat down again and closed my eyes. When my head flopped down on my chest, my eyes popped open. I went in search of coffee and wandered into the break room, where I must have dozed off again. My coffee had turned cold. Corrigan had to have returned by now.

  Before going back to his desk, I ducked into the ladies room and stood in front of the sink, washing my hands and looking into the mirror. One side of my face was red and lined like it’d been pressed against my arm.

  My mind reviewed everything that had happened, starting with when Michael first walked into my office. I’d been sure in the beginning Eagleton had killed Constance, but now my doubts prevented me from celebrating his arrest.

  I picked at a fingernail. How did Eagleton get hold of a letter Michael claims he wrote? I wanted to tell Corrigan about that, but I’d get into trouble for sure. That was withholding evidence, even if my intentions were innocent. A chill ran down my spine. Prison orange wouldn’t compliment my skin at all. My father’s heart would break like eggs. Who’d be there to help Aunt Lena at Cannoli’s? No, it wouldn’t do for me to tell Corrigan the truth flat out. Mayb
e a well-placed hint would do it.

  Corrigan was already at his desk, tie loosened, hint of a pale beard, and his hair ruffled, typing furiously. He looked up. “Have a good nap?” He seemed exhausted, but satisfied. “Well, we got him. Case looks good for Eagleton murdering Constance and for the attempt on Ed. His alibi for Mallorie’s may not withstand close inspection, either.”

  “Are you sure you’ve got the right guy?” My high-pitched voice betrayed all the tension I was feeling.

  Corrigan’s eyebrow shot up. “You kept saying from the start it was Eagleton. Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

  I hated Debate in school. If I was ahead, overwhelming sympathy for my opponent forced me to lose the argument on purpose, a habit I had to break. “It’s just that…what if Constance gave the threatening letter to Eagleton and he kept it? And, you said yourself lots of people like West Side Story. And practically everyone has a circular saw.” I took a deep breath. “What about my being drugged? How does that fit into Eagleton as the killer?”

  Corrigan stared at me and tapped his fingers on his desk. After what seemed to be five minutes but was probably five seconds, he resumed typing, pounding hard on each key.

  I cleared my throat as if to say, “I’m still here.”

  “When your test results come back, I’ll personally question Adler. God knows what sick thing he may have had in mind. In the meantime, stay away from him. Finish any business with him electronically. You’re too…” He stopped and looked like he wanted to swallow his tongue.

  “Too what? Short? Stupid? Undeniably gorgeous?”

  “Nothing. And, as for the rest, we’ve got the right guy.” He paused then added, “Do you want to press assault charges against Eagleton now?”

  “Not yet. Some family issues need handling right now.” I maintained an air of cooperation I sure didn’t feel. “As soon as possible, though.”

  Corrigan sprang up. “Claire, I know you disagree with charging Eagleton, but don’t go digging on your own. Whether you believe it or not, it could still be dangerous.”

  I managed a distracted smile. “Understood. But family business won’t wait. Be back before…before the rooster crows twice.” Really? I dashed off before he could ask me what the hell that meant.

  I signed some police paperwork to get my car back. If Corrigan didn’t believe Michael had anything to do with Constance’s death, I’d have to get the evidence myself. My fingers shook trying to get the key in the ignition. There was a movie once where a goat was used as bait. I was that goat.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Most people when faced with unpleasantness or danger lose their appetite. On the other hand, my cravings for the most decadent foodstuffs begin just before I head into the mouth of possible destruction. Maybe my body hoped, in the case of my demise, to least have a recent, final and delightful memory.

  I stopped at Breadsmith’s Café to get some iced tea and a chocolate banana muffin handsomely drizzled with more chocolate.

  Munching away, the quietness of the café struck me. A smart place to meet with Michael and ask him some questions. Other customers sat at tables so we wouldn’t be alone. I just needed to make sure he didn’t have any opportunity to put anything in my food or drink.

  I pulled out my phone and frowned. The battery was dead and my charger was at home. I chugged the tea and walked out chewing the muffin, probably leaving a trail of crumbs of which Hansel and Gretel would approve.

  It would only take me a few minutes to get from my office back to the café. I could make the call to Michael from my office land line.

  He picked up on the first ring like he’d been waiting for my call.

  “Michael, it’s Claire. Sorry about earlier. Just my morning paranoia getting the best of me. Please accept my apologies.” When necessary, I could be a talented groveler.

  “You’re forgiven. Now what did Corrigan ask you about?”

  “I’ll tell you everything in person. Can you meet me at Breadsmith’s Café at 11:00? It’s at the corner of Westwood and Detroit.” I held my breath, hoping he’d agree. At the same time, my inner safety seeker hoped he’d decline.

  “See you there.”

  That gave me more than enough time to get back to Breadsmith’s and get us a table away from the counter, but close enough to other tables so customers would hear if I screamed for help. That meant, of course, assuming someone would come to my aid.

  Telling Corrigan the plan flitted through my mind, but I decided against it. He’d either try to talk me out of it or insist on joining us. Either way, I wouldn’t find out anything. Anyway, Gino had a rule: “Never let a cop bust into your action.” I hoped in this case Gino was right.

  My office phone rang just as I picked up my purse and was ready to go. It was Aunt Lena. The woman had to have a timetable noting the worst possible moments to call. But I had a few minutes and didn’t want to regret not talking to her one last time before my possible demise.

  “Hi Aunt Lena.” My tone was as sing-song-y as a teen who’d been asked about their day at school.

  I heard a loud harrumph and imagined her exhaling puffs of flour into the air.

  “Claire Marie, you’re a grown woman, but that doesn’t give you permission to be out all hours of the night, worrying your family sick.”

  I looked to the ceiling. Put me before a firing squad and my aunt would insist I put on a sweater so as not to catch cold. “Sorry. I’ve been working, and let the time slip away. I’ll be more mindful from now on. Promise. Is there anything you need?” I made a circular motion with my hand, like a television producer when he wants the actor to speed his monologue up.

  “I’m having your father over for manicotti tomorrow night. You and Michael are invited.”

  I rubbed my face. “Nice try, Aunt Lena. But I’ll be coming solo.” Otherwise, we’d be singing West Side Story songs and cutting the manicotti with a circular saw.

  She wasn’t to be deterred. “But your father wants him to come.”

  Sure he does. “Sorry. Just not possible.” I checked the time. “Hate to cut this short, but I’ve got an appointment I can’t be late for. What time do you want me there?” We settled on my arriving at 6:00 and hung up.

  I’d be cutting it close for my meeting with Michael at Breadsmith’s but could still make it work. Then I heard footsteps stop at my door.

  Chapter Twenty

  I didn’t move. FedEx? I swore the doorknob took ten seconds to turn. The door creaked open.

  “Michael. What’re you doing here?” I failed to keep my voice level, instead sounding like a wolf baying at the moon.

  He closed the door behind him. “Your office number showed on my phone. Thought maybe we could talk here first. Alone.”

  Everything inside me froze. This was not going according to plan. I coughed to buy some time before responding. “But I’m just starving, and we can eat and talk at the same time.”

  Michael strode over to my desk and placed his hands flat down on it. “Let’s talk now, please.” He smiled, but it didn’t soften his expression.

  My hands squeezed the seat of my chair so tight, they’d have to be pried off. “Well, it’s settled then. Talk first, eat second.” Would he notice if I dug through my purse for my mace? Of course he would.

  Without taking his eyes off me, he pulled up a chair beside my desk. “What happened with Corrigan?”

  “They’ve charged Eagleton with your sister’s murder.” Michael’s face went blank and his hands dropped to his sides, limp. “You’re relieved, aren’t you?” I should’ve posed it in a different way, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Yes, but how did they…rather, why did he do it?”

  My explanation didn’t include any mention of the letters. That discussion was for when other people were around. I did explain the police’s angle on Eagleton’s motive.

  Michael listened without a sound. When I finished, he sat back and stared at the wall behind me. “Then it’s over.
”

  “Yes, it is.” I sat quietly for a moment, but he didn’t add anything. My questions still lingered unanswered, but having ignored Corrigan’s advice to get a gun, I refrained from asking them. The wrong answers could be dangerous, and I didn’t want to hear them in a deserted office building. So, onto my ploy. “How about we go to Breadsmith’s now? Something sweet would hit the spot.”

  He scratched his chin. “Could we do it tomorrow? I should notify someone about...you know…” His voice drifted off.

  My mouth asked before my brain could stop it. “Who?”

  His eyes darkened. Their mood didn’t match his off-hand response. “Attorney.”

  He stood up to leave at the same time my phone rang. It was Aunt Lena. What else could she possibly want? I held up one finger, as if to ask Michael to wait.

  Her voice was sugar. “Hello dear. Just wanted to let you know I found Michael’s phone number and left a message for him to come to dinner with you.”

  I wanted to lay my head down on my desk. “Why did you do that?”

  She chuckled. “One day you’ll thank me for this.” Yeah, as they fish my body out of Lake Erie.

  When the call ended, Michael said, “I heard. Please don’t be embarrassed. I’d like to come if it’s all right with you.” He paused. “Now that Eagleton’s been arrested, we can move on.”

  My fake smile probably made me look more queasy than happy. “Yeah, that’d be great.” A romance with Michael seemed about as safe as holding hands with a grizzly. I chewed my lower lip. “How about I pick you up at 4:30 tomorrow and drive to my aunt’s.” Get to his place early and maybe talk him out of coming to dinner. The thought of him sitting there with my aunt and father made me want to claw out his eyes. What if instead of a bottle of wine, he brings a rope to give a new meaning to hanging around together? Whatever was necessary to stop that from happening, I’d do. Even digging for information without a crowd as a safety cushion.

  After Michael left, my stomach felt jumpy like it knew something my brain didn’t. Michael hadn’t said anything about seeing his attorney before I told him about Eagleton. If he wasn’t going there, where was he going?