Gumshoe Ghost Mystery: Dying for the Past Part 21

I wondered if she called his speed dial or my old phone in our kitchen drawer. "Okay, but I'm going to find him when we get there. You know, because I'm dead. Not because it's the smart thing to do."

A half block from the Vincent House estate, Angel pulled up to the curb beneath some monstrous oak trees. If I recalled the building plans, we were outside the estates' second home on the southeast corner.

"All right, Angel. Now what?"

She gathered up her knapsack and the plans. "No one has lived in these homes for decades. Let's go exploring."

"Go where ... wait, look." Someone emerged from the darkness a hundred yards ahead walking toward us along the sidewalk. "Maybe it's Bear."

"He's too thin to be Bear," she said. Then, her face flashed surprise. "I don't believe it."

Andre Cartier crossed the street twenty yards ahead of us. Angel rolled down her window and called out. "Andre, what are you doing here?"

For a moment, he froze and stared back. He looked behind him down the block and then jogged over to us, stopping at the pa.s.senger's side door where Angel rolled the window down.

"Angela," he said out of breath. "Thank G.o.d I found you."

"Found me?"

"Yes, of course." He opened the pa.s.senger's door and slid in. I vamoosed to the back seat with Hercule. I liked Andre, but not so much I'd let him sit on me. "I've been looking for you."

"I thought you'd be home in DC. Bear told me you were released today."

"Yes, thank G.o.d. I don't know what Bear was thinking-"

"What Bear was thinking? Are you kidding me?" Angel jabbed at him with an accusatory finger. "What have you been thinking? My G.o.d, Andre, you're having an affair with Bonnie Grecco. And you lied to us."

"Yeah, Andre," I said, leaning over the seat. "And she's not even half your age. Any other time, I'd congratulate you. But murder sort of rules out a slap on the back."

"Angela, listen to me-"

"You lied to us, Andre." Angel's voice was curt-part anger and part hurt. "You told us you met Bonnie the night of the gala. Now, you're a murder suspect. I think I have an explanation coming, don't you?"

"I didn't lie to you, Angela. Not really." Andre's face was sad. His eyes showed pain. "I hadn't met Bonnie Grecco before the gala. She told me her name was Bonnie Chase. So, I wasn't lying-"

"Semantics? Come on, Andre, do you hear yourself? You're having an affair with her-Bonnie Grecco or Bonnie Chase, it's the same person."

"But I didn't know." He looked up at the car roof and closed his eyes. Then, with slow, deliberate effort, he turned in the seat to face Angel. "It wasn't an affair, Angela. Not the way you think."

"Oh? Either you're sleeping with a married woman half your age or you aren't."

"No, no, you don't understand. I was dating her over a month before I learned she was married-I swear to you. So, what was I to do?"

Angel didn't have to think. "End it."

"I tried, but-"

"But what?"

His face fell with the weight of embarra.s.sment and defeat and I wasn't sure which was more painful to watch.

"I was in love with her, Angela. I tried to end it, but I couldn't." He reached across the seat and tried to take Angel's hand but she withdrew it. "Angela, please. Listen to me. There's more-something I cannot tell you-not yet. You just have to believe in me. I'm involved here, yes, but I didn't kill Stephanos. Please. Give me time to prove it to you."

There's something he can't tell us? "Angel, what's he holding back?"

She asked him.

"I can't say anymore. Please, just trust me."

"Trust you? You refuse to explain yourself and you want me to trust you?"

I said, "Angel, I'm pretty sure Bonnie lied to him about Stephanos at first. We'd just gotten out of bed and I remember the look he had when she told him she was married."

"Excuse me?" Angel ignored Andre and snapped her head at me. "Just gotten out of bed?"

Oops.

"Angela? You're not talking to him again, are you? Please, I don't have the patience for your silliness right now."

Andre was not a believer.

"All right, Andre, then tell me what is going on. Start with what you're doing here."

"I came looking for you." His face lightened-no doubt thankful to be off his affair with Bonnie Grecco. "I wanted to clear the air with you before I returned to DC. I'm headed home tonight and I had to speak with you. I knew you'd be worried."

"I am worried, Andre." She threw a death-ray into the rearview mirror and turned to him. "And you thought to look for me here?"

"Yes, I saw you drive away from home and I followed you here. I parked around the block."

I said, "Around the block?"

"Why around the block?" Angel pressed. "No matter. You found me."

His eyes dropped. "Does my sleeping with Bonnie change your opinion of me? Do you think me a murderer, too?"

"I don't know what to think." She held his eyes for a long time-hard and angry static crackled between them and no words were needed. When he looked away, she breathed a heavy sigh, reached out, and took his hand. "No, no, of course I don't think you killed Stephanos. But you should have told us-Bear and me-about Bonnie. It makes you look guilty. You're in love with a much younger woman and her very rich older husband is murdered."

"I would have told you if I thought Stephanos was the target. Angela, I'm certain the bullet was meant for Bonnie."

"Maybe it was. Although Bear never found the threatening letters. The shooter could have been aiming for her on the dance floor."

He shook his head. "My G.o.d. You know, after she confided in me about Stephanos-telling me she was married-she told me about the letters. She said Stephanos was handling it and she wanted me to stay out of it. She was afraid if the police got involved, we'd be found out, too."

I asked, "Was she going to leave Stephanos for you, Andre?"

Angel asked him.

"We hadn't thought that far ahead." He shrugged. "There was something else going on with them-something bad. At first, I thought she married him for his money and it bothered me. But after I got to know her, I found out the truth-and money wasn't important anymore."

"How do you know? You've got money, and she moved onto you pretty quick, too," Angel said in a dry voice. "I like Bonnie. I do. But if she played you for a month, maybe she was trying to lure you in with more lies."

"No," he turned and looked out the window. "I don't believe she did or would. What happened between us was not our fault. We met at a fundraiser and hit it off. She was very interested in charity work and history-just as I am. I told her about you and your work at the University. One thing led to another and she asked for my help in finding historical pieces for herself. It was very accidental."

Angel looked at him and I could see the sympathy softening her face. "All right, Andre, all right. What about-"

"Ask him what historical pieces she was interested in, Angel." I had a hunch. "Ask him if it was a book."

She did and his answer sent jagged fingernails screeching down the blackboard.

"Yes, she wanted books-but most collectors do. I located several other items-some paintings and portraits-even some old county photographs. But it was the books she wanted most. Why, is someone else interested in the gangster's old books?"

Oh yeah, you could say so, yes.

forty.

Andre Cartier begged Angel to allow him to help investigate the Vincent estate, but Angel knew it was a bad idea. She sent him home. He was in enough trouble and his presence with us as we broke a half-dozen laws sneaking onto the estate would make things worse if we were caught. Bad for us. Worse for him.

"Something is off about him, Angel," I said as we watched him walk off into the night. "I've never seen him so, so-"

"Nervous?"

"Yeah, nervous."

"Well, it's nearing midnight outside the crime scene where he's accused of murder. His married mistress is in FBI custody, and he's a murder suspect. Maybe that's why."

"Maybe." I wasn't so sure that was all of it-although it was a lot. "I'm just not sure."

Angel let Hercule out the rear door and onto the sidewalk. He stopped and gave the darkness a thorough inspection, sniffed the air in long, slow nose-fulls, and sat down. He moaned his report-the area was secure and ready for trespa.s.sing.

The Vincent estate was surrounded by a six-foot high stone wall. We were around the corner from where Bear and Spence should be sitting so we looked for a way inside close by. There was a wrought iron gate a dozen yards down the street and Hercule and I followed Angel there.

"Someone has been here already," she said, lifting the heavy iron hasp on the gate. "The chain and padlock have been removed."

"Now is it time to call Bear again?"

"No." Angel opened the gate eighteen inches or so and waved Hercule in, then slipped through after him. She closed the gate behind her. "And if you tell me to call Bear one more time, I'm sending you home."

"Don't yell at me later when this goes bad." I patted Hercule on the head and pointed into the darkness ahead of us. "Check it out, boy. But be quiet about it-doggie jail is not as plush as my den."

Moan. He raised his nose, sniffed the air again, and trotted off down the driveway toward the carriage house almost straight ahead of us.

"Okay, Dr. Tucker." I turned my spirit-radar on full force. "This is your expedition. Where to?"

"I want to find out if there are any tunnels connecting the houses. If I were going to make tunnels to escape the police, I'd want them coming from all the houses just in case. Nicholas' photo alb.u.m showed crews digging outside all the houses. The carriage house is the perfect point to converge them, too. And the house on the northeast corner sits closest to the compound wall-maybe there's a way out of the compound there."

Good logic. "You know, doing this sort of makes us the Tucker gang. And you're our gang boss. How about a gang nickname?"

"No." She followed Hercule into the darkness.

I followed. "How about Angel the Knife?"

"Shut up, Tuck. Please."

"Boss Tucker? No, wait, how about-"

"Stop. I mean it."

"Angelface-you know, like Scarface."

Woof.

"Angelface it is, Herc. And you can be Twenty-Toes Hercule."

Woof. At least he had a sense of humor. I patted his head. "All's clear, Angel Face. Did you bring your heater?"

We weaved through the estate's trees and overgrown gardens to the two-story Victorian sitting in the northeast corner of the estate. At the rear door of the house, Angel opened her backpack and took out a flashlight and her Walther .380.

"It's locked," she said, checking the door. "Can you go in and look around? Maybe find us a way in?"

I did my best Bogie imitation. "Whatever you say, sweetheart," and slipped through the door. I didn't have to look back to know she was rolling her eyes. It must be the dry night air.

The house was empty, with no signs of anyone having been there for some time. Old furniture was still covered with dust covers-what little furniture there was-and the doors and windows were locked and appeared untampered with. There were no signs of any killer or bad guys. A cursory check failed to reveal a tunnel entrance or secret anything, too.

I returned to Angel. "Nothing, Angel Face. No signs of anyone. And there's no power. We'll have to break through a window or pick a lock."

"Okay, let's go around back."

"You're not seriously going to break in, are you?"

She winked. "Isn't this why we're here?"

"I don't recall breaking and entering on our to-do list. I thought we were just checking the grounds."

Hercule lowered himself and let out a low, throaty growl.

"Herc? What is it?"

Behind us, across the gardens on the other side of the carriage house, the faint groan of the iron gate came through the night.

"Angel, someone's coming. Scram and hide."

She ran across the yard to some tall, brushy evergreens and dropped down on the ground. Hercule lay beside her, ears up, tail straight back-ready for action. Me, I waited on the stoop and watched. Surveillance for me was far less stressful and much cleaner.