Murdered by Words: Midwest Cozy Mystery Series Page 5

  After Blaine left, she wondered if she should include the day’s events in a book, and then decided no one would probably believe it, since it was literally stranger than fiction.

  CHAPTER 9

  After the day she’d had, Kat decided she needed to give herself some tender loving care in the form of comfort food. For her that meant fixing clam linguini. She didn’t know why it always worked for her, but it did. She knew everyone had their favorite comfort food and very simply, clam linguini was hers. She remembered Bev’s response when she’d told her once that the dish was her favorite go-to comfort food. She smiled as she recalled Bev's shocked expression and then her words, “You’ve got to be kidding! Chicken soup I can understand, ice cream I can understand, brownies I can understand, but clam linguini as a comfort food? That I can’t understand. Kat, having clam linguini as a comfort food is about the strangest thing I’ve ever heard. If I were you, I think I’d keep it to myself.”

  Later, after she’d cleaned up the last of her dirty dishes, Kat walked over to her desk where she’d put Blaine’s brother’s business card. She pressed his telephone number into her cell phone. A moment later a man's voice said, “This is Nick Evans. May I help you?”

  “Nick, my name is Kat Denham. Your brother gave me your telephone number and said you might be able to help me.”

  “I’ll certainly try. What can I do for you?”

  “Before I tell you, I'm wondering if private investigators have a code of ethics kind of like doctors and lawyers. I guess what I’m asking is when a client tells you something, is it confidential? I know that sounds pretty mangled, but this is the first time I've ever needed the services of a private investigator. Blaine thought I did, so that’s why I’m calling you.”

  “If you know my brother at all, you know how ethical and honest he is. I’d like to say I have the same standards. As to whether or not the industry has standards I have to abide by, the answer is no. Do I have personal standards I feel compelled to abide by? The answer to that is yes. Whatever you tell me will be confidential. Let me ask you something before you begin. My wife is an English professor at the university. The head of the department for many years was a man named Greg Denham. Are you any relation to him?”

  “Yes. I was his wife. As you probably know he died over two years ago in an automobile accident.”

  “I knew about the accident. My wife was very upset about it for a long time. Your husband was well-respected at the university. I'm sorry. Now, why don't you tell me why you called me?”

  Kat told him everything that had happened since she’d been to Susie’s Salon and ended with finding Nancy’s body and calling his brother. She explained to him she was an author, and Nancy was her editor.

  “Mrs. Denham, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to call you Kat. Is that all right with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Kat, I understand everything you’ve told me, but I'm still unclear as to what it is that you would like me to do for you.”

  “My reputation’s at stake. The cat is out of the bag, so to speak, regarding the fact that I write under the pen name of Sexy Cissy. I can’t do anything about that, and I’m sure what I write will be offensive to some people. What I need is help finding out who murdered Nancy. I need to clear my name. Her husband more or less accused me of murdering her. I don’t want to be considered a suspect. The timing is not very good for people to find out that Sexy Cissy and I are one and the same, and also that I’m the one who found Nancy.”

  “I understand your concern. May I make a suggestion?” Nick asked.

  “Of course. This is unchartered territory for me, so I’d appreciate any thoughts you might have.”

  “If you decide to hire me to investigate Nancy’s murder, and I think that's what you’re asking me to do, here’s how I would go about it. I think we can work together. You know the people who are possible suspects, and I have ways of getting information about those people that aren't available to most people. I have a woman on my staff who’s a genius at finding out things. I do a combination computer search as well as old-fashioned stake-outs as they are sometimes called. You mentioned three people, but you neglected to tell me the name of your caller. If I'm going to help you, I'll need that person's name.”

  “I’m reluctant to tell you because this person was worried that her husband, who’s very well-known in Lindsay, would think she was the woman described in my new book who was having an affair. I believe the only reason she's worried is because she probably is in fact having an affair. Once I divulge her name, I’m essentially saying she is having an affair.”

  “Kat, I told you about my personal ethics. You will be the only person who has access to any information I discover. What you choose to do with it is up to you. I won’t even say anything to Blaine.”

  She was quiet for a few minutes and then asked, “What is your fee for doing something like this?”

  “I have a standard hourly fee of $150. The hourly rate is for anything I do associated with the case. It might be a computer search, a stakeout, telephone calls, anything. The only additional expenses would be costs that I incur in connection with the case such as long distance calls, mileage, and things of that nature. I require a $1,500 retainer to be paid before I start the case. Once that’s used up, if more work is necessary, I will bill you on a weekly basis.”

  “That sounds fair. How would you like me to pay?”

  “I have a PayPal account, and you can pay through that. It’s easier than checks or credit cards. Just give me your email address, and I’ll send you an invoice. Actually, this is perfect timing. I just completed a case for a woman who wanted to know if her husband was having an affair. He was, and she's deciding what to do with the information I gave her, so I can get started on your case immediately. Although you told me what happened to you today, you didn't tell me the names of the people I’ll be investigating, so let’s start with those."

  “Nancy’s husband’s name is Carl Jennings. I don’t know much about him or where he’s originally from, but I believe he’s lived here in Lindsay for quite a few years. I’ve run into him several times over the years at various meetings and events. As I mentioned earlier, he’s very rigid in his thinking about anything with a sexual connotation attached to it. The woman’s name is Sally Lonsdale. She’s the one who told my hairdresser she was amazed that I would even show up in church after writing the type of books I write. She’s very religious and very active in the Calvary Baptist Church in town.”

  “Do you know if she’s from the area?”

  “I’m pretty sure she is. I’ve been going to the Lindsay Episcopal Church off and on for years. It’s located right next door to the Baptist Church, and every time I've been there I’ve seen Sally going in or out of the Baptist Church. I believe she and Carl are good friends. He and Nancy attended the church as well, although from what Nancy told me, he is far more religious than she was.”

  “All right, that’s two of them. What about the woman who called you?”

  “Her name is Tiffany Conners. She’s a regular at the country club. When Greg was alive we went to the club quite often, and she was always there, usually in the bar. I don’t think she’s from around here. She married Nelson Conners about five years ago. She’s what some would call a ‘trophy wife.’ You know, quite a bit younger than he is, actually about twenty-five years younger. She’s very attractive, and the talk around town is that most of what you see when you look at her has been implanted or enhanced by a plastic surgeon. Does that help?”

  “Yes. I’ll get started and give you a call in the morning with what I’ve been able to find out. You’ve had a rough day, try and get some sleep. I take a personal interest in my clients and based on what you’ve told me tonight, I think you need to be very, very careful until the killer is caught. I hope you have an alarm system and a gun.”

  “I have both, and you sound just like your brother,” she said laughing. “I also have a dog that is great at alertin
g me when anything unusual is going on.”

  “Dogs are a good thing to have at a time like this. What breed is it?” he asked.

  “A West Highland Terrier, and don't say anything. Your brother already has.”

  “The only thing I'm going to say is that you might check out buying a Rottweiler in the morning. Westies are cute little dogs, but as guard dogs, I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks. Let me give you my email address.”

  A few minutes later they ended the call. She turned on the outside back yard lights and gingerly opened the door for Jazz to go out one more time. She mentally berated herself for being afraid when she looked out into the yard at the shadows where the lights couldn't reach. As she set the alarm system, she thought Maybe Blaine and Nick are right. Maybe I should get a Rottweiler. I don’t seem to be doing so well by myself.

  CHAPTER 10

  Kat spent a sleepless night tossing and turning. The first rays of the morning sun had just spilled through the slats of her louvered bedroom windows when she heard the front door open. She couldn’t figure out why the alarm hadn’t gone off. Her heart beat rapidly as she quietly opened the drawer of her nightstand and took the gun out. She looked down at Jazz who was wagging her tail. Just as she swung her legs over the side of the bed she heard Lacie’s voice saying, “Mom, it’s me. I wanted to talk to you before I went to class today. Where are you?”

  “I’m in the bedroom. Be right with you.” She quickly put the gun back in the drawer, knowing it would frighten Lacie if she saw it and also knowing Lacie would question why Kat felt she needed to keep a gun in her nightstand. Evidently Lacie had turned off the alarm when she’d come in.

  A few minutes later Kat walked into the kitchen where Lacie was making coffee. She turned and faced Kat, “Mom, I want to apologize for last night. I was out of line, and I feel really bad about our conversation.”

  Kat walked over and put her arms around Lacie. “Honey, I understand. You’ve been worried for a long time about people finding out that I write the Sexy Cissy books, but Lacie, look at it this way. People don’t have to buy them. There are some sex scenes, I grant you that, but there isn’t any violence or people speaking filth. As a matter of fact, I get a lot of fan mail from people who really like my books. They’re quick reads, and they bring a little enjoyment into the lives of a lot of people. At least that's how I look at it. Plus, it’s certainly allowed us to live a far better life than we’d able to if I was working in a fast food restaurant somewhere, struggling to keep us in this house.”

  “I know, Mom, it was just a lot of things. Nicole’s father and uncle came to the sorority house yesterday afternoon and told her about her mother being murdered. Her room is next to mine, and I heard her screaming at her father.”

  “You’re kidding!” Kat said. “Why would she do that? I mean it had to have been a terrible blow to Carl and Nicole.”

  “She was screaming something about it all being his fault for getting so mad at her mother for editing the Sexy Cissy books. He yelled back that maybe Nicole’s mother deserved to die for editing filth like that. Then it got real quiet, and I could hear Nicole crying. Her father tried to take her home, but she refused to go with him. She said she couldn't sleep in the same house where her mother had been murdered.”

  “Oh, that poor child. I feel so sorry for her,” Kat said. “This is a time when she and her father need to support each other.”

  “Mom, Nicole didn’t know you were Sexy Cissy. She heard her father and mother arguing about her mother editing those books, but she didn’t know the books they were arguing about were the books you’d written. Her father told her mother she better stop editing those books, or he'd make sure she did. Her mother told him his attitude towards sex was sick, and since she was an adult, she'd make up her own mind about what books she chose to edit.”

  “How did you find that out, Lacie?” Kat asked.

  “Nicole and I have become very good friends. After you and I talked last night, or rather after I hung up on you, and again I’m sorry, it was just that I’d always been so afraid people would find out you were Sexy Cissy, and I was afraid I might even get kicked out of the sorority because of it. Anyway, I realized you were more important to me than the sorority, and actually, based on what a couple of people told me last night, no one really cared. One person said it was a much better profession than selling people houses or cars or other things they knew the buyer couldn't afford, just so they could make a profit. When I thought about it, I realized they were right.”

  “I'm glad, Lacie. I've never felt ashamed about what I write, but I also didn’t see any reason to alert people that I was the author of a type of a book they might find offensive. If they choose to read one of my books, it’s their choice, not mine.”

  “Back to Nicole. I waited about an hour, and then I knocked on her door. I felt so sorry for her. I know she and her mother were close, and her death had to be a horrible shock to Nicole. I mean, it’s bad enough to have your mother die, but to have your father threaten your mother, and then to have her murdered. She told me she was afraid her father had done something terrible. She couldn’t bring herself to say he killed Mrs. Jennings, but she certainly implied it. She said her mother had told her once that Sexy Cissy was a really good writer. Nicole wondered if that was her real name. Mom, I told her you were Sexy Cissy.”

  “Oh, honey, are you sure that was a wise thing to do?”

  “Well, after you told me last night that several people at the club knew, it was just a matter of time before she heard it. I thought it would be better if she heard it from me. She was very surprised and told me she thought the author would be some sex queen looking person, not an ordinary mother. I told her how I was always afraid people would find out about it, and I was almost ashamed of it. I'm sorry, Mom, but I'm just being honest.”

  “Lacie, I wouldn't have you any other way. It sounds like you were able to help her.”

  “I think just talking to me helped. She wasn't at all judgmental about you. As a matter of fact, she asked me if she could stay here at our house during Christmas break, because she didn’t want anything to do with her father.”

  “Oh boy. I don’t know how good of an idea that is. Her father hates me enough without me taking his daughter from him. Let’s think about it.”

  “Mom, please, Nicole is really suffering. She doesn’t need you to reject her. I told her I was going to talk to you this morning.”

  Kat was quiet for several moments and then said, “Let me think about it, but I’m pretty sure her father isn’t going to be very happy about this.”

  “Well, Nicole is eighteen, and in this state I believe she can legally make up her own mind whether she wants to stay at home or not, and she doesn't want to stay at home. I'll tell her you’re thinking about it, and there’s a good chance she can stay with us during the holidays.”

  Maybe I should get the Rottweiler. I have no idea what Carl will do when he finds this out, and if he is the killer, I could be in real danger. Better if Lacie doesn't even think of that possibility.

  “To change the subject,” Kat said. “Remember when you were a kid I’d sometimes make that special coffee cake for you and dad on the weekends? The one with lots of brown sugar? Got time for me to make it for you now?”

  “Of course I remember. I've got two hours before my first class, so that should be plenty of time. Yes, definitely make it.”

  Forty-five minutes later Lacie said, “Mom, are you expecting someone? It's pretty early for guests.” She walked to the front door to see who had rung the doorbell.

  “No, I’m not expecting anyone and please find out who it is before you open the door," Kat said as she took the coffee cake out of the oven. Kat hadn’t wanted to alarm Lacie and other than telling her about finding Nancy, she had deliberately chosen not to tell her the other things that had happened yesterday.

  “Mom, it’s Blaine Evans, the District Attorney you went out with. Ok
ay with you if I let him in?”

  “Of course,” Kat said, running her hands through her hair and mentally chastising herself for not having at least put on some lipstick and running a mascara wand over her lashes. She smoothed her robe and smiled at Blaine as he walked into the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Blaine, I see you've met my daughter, Lacie. She came over for an early breakfast. I just took a coffee cake out of the oven. Care to join us?”

  “I’d love to. Thanks,” he said pulling out a chair from the kitchen table. “I’d also take a cup of that coffee I can smell.” He turned to Lacie, who had seated herself at the table. “I understand you’re a junior at the university. What are you studying?”

  “I’m majoring in psychology. I hope to become a psychologist and work with teenagers. I don’t know why it appeals to me, but having just gotten out of my teens, I know how difficult those years can be. I really would like to help some of them, particularly those less fortunate than I was. I had a mom and a dad who were always there for me.”

  “That’s admirable, and I’m sure you will make a difference.” He turned to Kat and said, “This may be the best coffee cake I’ve ever eaten. I’m beginning to think you’re a woman of many talents.”

  “Thanks. Glad you’re enjoying it. Lacie, why don’t you wrap up the rest of the coffee cake and take it with you? You can have some tomorrow morning or maybe share it with Nicole. She could probably use some comfort food about now.” She turned to Blaine and said, “That’s Nancy's daughter. She and Lacie are quite good friends. As a matter of fact, they have rooms next to each other in the sorority house.”

  “Kat, Lacie, I would love to stay and talk to both of you, but I’m due in court in a little while.” He turned to Kat. “My brother called me last night. He and I both think you need to get a dog that’s a little more threatening than Jazz. He has a very good friend who trains Rottweilers for the police, and he called him. His friend said he has the perfect dog for you. It's a one-year-old male. He’s a fully trained guard dog that loves other dogs and prefers women to men. I’d really appreciate it if you would go out to his kennel, sooner rather than later, and take a look at the dog. By the way, if you decide you want to bring him home with you, his fee has been taken care of,” Blaine said with a twinkle in his eye.