A catered valentines day, p.20
A Catered Valentine's Day, page 20
Oh well. Bernie dusted herself off and went back to clearing the prep table. She figured the more she could put away, the less cleaning they’d have to do when Conner and his crew got done. Even though they were just moving ceiling tiles, dirt still managed to rain down on everything. She was just putting mixing bowls in a carton when her cell rang. She picked it up and looked at it. Libby.
“So how did it go?” she asked.
Libby told her.
One problem solved, Bernie thought as she listened to Libby’s recital of her conversation with Cyna. At least now they knew who Didi Mullet was. Libby continued talking, although now Bernie was having trouble hearing her. The connection had gone bad.
“Did you say Bolt?” Bernie asked.
Libby admitted she had.
“Interesting,” Bernie said to herself as Libby clicked off. “Very interesting indeed.”
Now they knew where Ted Gorman was getting some, if not all, of his drugs. They were making progress, even if it was slow progress, which was better than no progress at all. Not that Marvin’s father would agree with that assessment. He wanted things solved and he wanted them solved ASAP, as he had made clear on the phone this morning.
Bernie tapped her cell against her teeth, realized what she was doing, and stopped. And she thought Amber and Googie were prone to drama. She would never say that again.
The more relevant question was: Where did Bolt fit into this equation? Was he a dealer? Was he just getting E as a favor to Ted? And with whom was Ted planning to use it? Was he going to a rave? Was he planning on having a private party? Instead of the possibilities narrowing they were increasing. Bernie turned her ring around on her finger. She really had to talk to him. The question was, when?
“What’s up?” Tim Conner asked.
Bernie jumped. She’d been so intent on her thoughts she hadn’t heard him come up. “Not much. Just waiting for you to get started.”
She hoped Conner’s construction crew was as fast as rumored, because until they finished, the kitchen was as good as closed. She’d given them coffee and scones when they’d come in, and now it was time for them to do their thing and leave.
“I thought I heard you mention Bolt,” Conner said.
Bernie perked up. “You know him?”
“He used to work for me.”
“I take it he doesn’t anymore?”
“No, sir. Anyone who steals from me I get rid of.”
“Seems like a wise move.”
Tim Conner nodded. “Must be the same in your business.”
“Pretty much. We’ve been lucky.”
“Well, I haven’t.”
“Was he dealing?”
Conner shrugged. “I can’t really say. He could have been. Let’s just say it wouldn’t surprise me.”
Bernie was going to ask him why when Amber came in. They had a crisis out front. Somehow or other they’d run out of take-out containers, and as far as Amber could see there weren’t any in the storeroom.
“I’ll look,” Bernie told Amber as she hurried off to the storeroom to double-check. Something told her this wasn’t going to be a very good day. She was halfway there when Amber came running in with the store phone.
“It’s Marnie Gorman,” she mouthed.
Bernie reached out her hand and took the receiver.
“You have to come to the store,” Marnie sobbed. “You have to come now.”
Bernie sighed and asked what the matter was.
“I can’t tell you over the phone,” Marnie cried.
The word naturally almost slipped out of Bernie’s mouth, but she managed to catch herself in time. She decided that Marnie gave new meaning to the expression “drama queen.”
“Please,” Marnie begged.
“I’ll be there as soon as Libby comes back,” Bernie told her, and then before she could say anything else she hung up and headed to the storeroom.
Fortunately, she managed to find some take-out containers underneath a carton of paper towels. When her cell rang again she ignored it. Her horoscope had said this was a day for practicing calm—never one of her strengths.
Libby was back at the store twenty minutes later. By that time Marnie had called twice more and Bernie was ready to strangle her.
“Do you think I could get away with killing Marnie?” she asked her dad as he got into Marvin’s car. They were off to talk to Ted Gorman’s mom, and Bernie wished with all her heart that she was going with them instead of driving over to Just Chocolate.
Sean considered the matter for a moment.
“Probably not,” he finally said. “But someone else might think they can.”
Her dad’s words kept racing around in Bernie’s head as she drove to Just Chocolate. Was she not taking Marnie as seriously as she should be? Was someone really trying to harm Marnie? Bernie knew it was a real possibility, but somehow she just couldn’t get herself to believe it.
Everything that had happened since they’d discovered Ted Gorman’s body in Ms. McDougal’s grave made no sense whatsoever. Usually there was a common thread that linked things together, but that didn’t seem to be the case here. Bernie was still thinking about what the thread could be when she arrived at Just Chocolate.
Marnie must have been on the lookout for her, because the moment she walked through the door, Marnie ran over to her and dragged her into the back. She appeared as if she’d lost weight since Bernie had seen her last, and there were plum-hued circles underneath her eyes.
“Look,” she demanded as she dragged Bernie over to one of the chocolate vats. “Just look.”
Bernie peeled Marnie’s fingers off her upper arm. “What am I looking for?” she asked.
“You’ll see,” Marnie told her.
And Bernie did. The chocolate in the vat was a lumpy, dark brown mass. All of its luster was gone. As Bernie straightened up she noticed the empty bottle of water sitting on the table next to it. Water and untempered chocolate don’t mix. Add even a small drop and the chocolate seizes up and you have to throw it out.
“Are all the other vats like this?”
Marnie shook her head.
Bernie twisted her ring around her finger. “Whose station is this?”
“Bolt’s.”
“Where is he?”
“He called in sick.”
Bernie raised an eyebrow.
“He’d never do anything like this to me,” Marnie told her.
“Why not?”
A flush crawled up Marnie’s face. She didn’t say anything.
Bernie remembered what Brandon had said about Bolt being a ladies’ man. Could Marnie be one of his ladies? It was an interesting thought.
“Marnie, can I have his number?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to talk to him, obviously.”
“About what?”
Bernie gestured toward the vat. “About this. And other things.”
“What other things?”
“I’ve heard that Bolt supplied E to your husband.”
“That’s a lie,” Marnie cried. Two spots of color appeared on her cheeks. “A terrible lie. Who would say something like that?”
Like I’m going to tell you, Bernie thought. She shrugged. “You know how rumors go around.”
“Those people should be shot.” Marnie’s hands fluttered in the air. “He would never, never do anything like that.”
“You mean deal drugs?” Bernie asked.
Marnie nodded. “Bolt isn’t like that.”
Bernie pointed to the vat. “Would he do something like this?”
“Never. He would never do something like this to me. Never.”
That was five nevers in the last minute, Bernie observed. What was the line about “methinks the lady doth protest too much”?
“This is all Ted’s work,” Marnie insisted.
Bernie grunted. Obviously Ted was bored in the afterlife. He needed a project. Like knitting. Or macramé. Or doing crossword puzzles.
“He must hate me,” Marnie whispered. “Otherwise why would he be doing this to me?” Marnie looked at Bernie as if she expected her to supply an answer.
Bernie decided to try another tack. She drew herself up and tried to look brisk. “Okay, who has the combination to the shop alarm?”
“No one. Just me and Ted.”
“Maybe you forgot to set the alarm,” Bernie suggested. Heaven only knows, it had happened to her more than once.
The corners of Marnie’s mouth turned down. “No. I didn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
Marnie folded her arms across her chest. “I never forget to set the alarm. Never.”
“Okay, then. Maybe one of the alarm circuits isn’t working.”
Marnie shook her head. “If they weren’t working the alarm company would have called.”
Bernie had to admit this was true. “Do you mind if I check anyway?”
“Check away, but I know it’s Ted. I’m just sorry you’re refusing to see that. And now if you’ll excuse me I have things to do.”
And with that Marnie went out front.
Bernie sighed. She was glad that someone was sure of something.
She rubbed her head as she tried to imagine what her father would do in this situation. First, he would check the alarm to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with, after which he’d take a look outside and see if there was any evidence of someone walking around, an unlikely possibility considering the hardness of the ground. But maybe whoever had done this had dropped something.
After he was done doing that he’d drive over to Marnie’s house and examine the dirt by the shrubs next to the trellis to see if he could see any footprints, after which he’d track Bolt down and have a conversation with him. Bernie sighed again. She really needed a shot of espresso after her conversation with Marnie. Or maybe she should just find an exorcist and be done with the whole thing. One thing was clear: One way or another, even if Ted Gorman was dead, he was causing a great deal of trouble.
On the way to the shop’s back door Bernie passed by bags of sugar, cartons of nuts, a couple of bags of chocolate nibs, and stacks of chocolate in ten-pound bars. All of it was waiting to be made into candies. She was interested to see that Marnie was using some of the expensive stuff—unblended, first-growth, fair-trade chocolate from South America, as well as some of the blended chocolate. Maybe she and Libby should use some at their shop, Bernie thought. They’d just charge more.
Chapter 29
S ean looked at Marvin. He had both hands on the wheel and his eyes were focused on the road. Yes, Sean thought. Under his tutelage Marvin was actually turning out to be a pretty good driver. Or at least a competent one. It was all a matter of patience and repetition. Say something often enough and people begin to catch on. And contrary to what Libby thought, a little yelling didn’t hurt. It helped fix things in a person’s mind. He knew this from his time as chief. So Marvin had needed a lot of fixing, it just couldn’t be helped.
At least now Libby would be safe. Every time Libby had gone out the door with Marvin it had pained Sean to think of his daughter driving around with him, and even though he’d told her of his concerns she’d pooh-poohed them. Not at all untypical for Libby. Oh well. But he’d fixed the problem—he was good at fixing problems. And on the way back he could ask Marvin to stop at a pharmacy so he could get Inez a card. He settled back into his seat, fished out the orange-cranberry muffin Libby had given him for the trip, and began to eat. Of course, Libby had given him a muffin for Marvin as well, in addition to the basket full of baked goods for Ted Gorman’s mom, but Sean decided it was better to wait until after they arrived at their destination to give Marvin the muffin. In his opinion, the fewer distractions Marvin had while operating a moving vehicle, the better.
“What are you going to ask Mrs. Gorman?” Marvin asked him.
Sean peeled the paper from half the muffin and deposited it in the brown paper bakery bag.
“I don’t know,” Sean told him.
“You don’t know?” Marvin said.
Sean noticed Marvin’s head beginning to turn, so he corrected him at once.
“Eyes front. That’s right. I don’t know,” he told Marvin when he’d resumed watching the road. “I’m hoping that one question will lead to another one. Have you ever shaken a cherry tree to get the fruit at the top?”
Marvin shook his head.
“We used to do that all the time when I was a kid. We’d shake the tree and we’d get cherries, but we’d get bugs too.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you want to get bugs?”
“I’m using a metaphor,” Sean said.
“Oh.”
Sean decided it was better not to say anything. Instead he took another bite of his muffin and closed his eyes. He could think better about his upcoming interview with Mrs. Gorman that way. He hadn’t told Marvin that she wasn’t expecting him. But he figured first he’d get there and then he’d decide on an approach. He patted the basket Libby had given him. Hopefully the scones, muffins, jams, and maple spread would help. Considering the circumstances, Mrs. Gorman might not want to talk to him, but then again maybe she would.
Sometimes it happened one way, sometimes it happened the other. The only thing Sean knew was that it was impossible to predict the outcome beforehand. He remembered the time he’d had to tell Mrs. Viceroy that her pet frog had died, and had been treated to a two-hour slide show on Buster’s development from a spawn, through his tadpole stage, to the bullfrog he’d become. He certainly hoped things didn’t go like that. And then he started thinking about nothing much at all.
Sean woke with a start. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but that’s what he must have done. He was straightening up when he caught sight of the sign, NEW YORK 75 MILES. New York! Oh my God.
He turned to Marvin. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“No, I’m not. You told me Ted’s mom lived in Brooklyn.”
“I told you she lived in Schenectady.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Then I told Libby.”
“Well, she didn’t tell me. You want me to turn around?”
“Of course I want you to turn around,” Sean snapped. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“Fine.” Marvin yanked on the wheel.
Sean watched in horror as Marvin cut across four lanes of traffic to get to the exit. Cars honked. Brakes squealed. People screamed obscenities. Marvin remained unfazed. Sean noted that he hadn’t even put on his directional signal. He didn’t even want to think of all the penalties Marvin had just racked up with that maneuver of his.
Marvin turned toward him.
“You look pale,” he observed. “Are you feeling all right?”
Sean opened his mouth. For once no words came out. He shut it again.
He didn’t know what to say, or rather he didn’t know how he could say nicely what he wanted to say. The only thing he could do was point to the road. He knew if he said what he wanted to—something involving the words moron and idiot with a couple of incompetents thrown in—Libby would never forgive him.
They finally reached Schenectady an hour and a half later. By then Sean’s breathing had returned to normal. As he looked out the window he reflected that the city was like so many of the others around here. It was a factory town that had thrived when G&E was here, but then the factories all relocated to places like Mexico, Indonesia, and China. The city never recovered.
Marvin spoke for the first time since he’d switched lanes. “Ted Gorman’s mom never came to his funeral. She said she couldn’t travel.”
“Maybe she was sick,” Sean said. “Maybe she couldn’t face it.”
“Maybe,” Marvin said, but to Sean’s ear he didn’t sound convinced.
They arrived at Susan Gorman’s house ten minutes later. The house was on the outskirts of the city in a neighborhood that to Sean’s eyes said solid working class. Susan Gorman’s house did not appear to be the exception.
It was a small cottage painted a light blue with white trim around the windows and doors. The portico, under which an old Taurus resided, was painted in matching colors. Laurel hedges demarcated the property line. A large bird feeder was placed near a picture window. A coat of birdseed covered the ground around the feeder.
Nothing about the house or the street it was on was remarkable in any way. All the houses looked alike, except that some of them had porches on the left side and some had them on the right.
As he slowly made his way up to the front door Sean reflected that this area was probably one of those subdivisions they built in the fifties. Marvin followed on his heels like some goddamned herding dog.
“You’re practically stepping on my feet,” Sean groused when he was halfway up the path. “Could you back up a bit and give me a little space?”
Marvin shifted Libby’s basket from his left to his right arm. “I just want to make sure I can catch you if you fall,” he explained.
“I’m not going to fall and you’re not my mother,” Sean snapped.
And then he turned and continued toward Sue Gorman’s house. That way he didn’t have to see the injured look he was sure was on Marvin’s face. When he got to the front door he rang the bell.
Two minutes later the door opened a sliver. A crescendo of voices, hoots, tweets, and cackles poured out into the street.
A hoarse voice asked, “Who is it?”
As Sean said, “Susan Gorman?” he remembered Rose had always remarked that he had a bad habit of answering a question with a question.
“You can’t come in. I’m busy cleaning.”
Sean motioned for Marvin to give him the basket.
“Here,” he said, holding it out in front of him. “Please accept this as a small token for your loss.”
The door opened a little wider. The noise was deafening.
“You’re not the code enforcement officer?” the woman asked.
“No. I’m Sean Simmons and this is Marvin Hanson. We just want to talk to you about your son.”
“And you’re not from the ASPCA?”
“Not the last time I checked.”
The door opened wider. The woman stuck her head out. Hanks of her hair stood straight up. Just like she had wires in it, Sean thought. Suspiciously she looked to the right and then to the left; then she motioned Sean and Marvin in.
