Detective Olman did learn that an unmarked tractor-trailer was idling in the commuter parking lot early this morning. He also dug up a sheet on one of our principals that you’ll want to run with. I have the printout in my ride. And he’s available if you need backup.”
“Why would I need backup?” demanded Soave, bristling. He did not play well with others. Felt threatened. “You saying I can’t handle this on my own?”
“Not at all, Rico.”
“Sure sounded like it.”
“You know, I really don’t think it did.”
“Freudian therapy, little man,” Yolie chided him.
“What about it?”
“You really need you some.”
He shot Yolie a withering look. “See what I have to deal with, Des? Nothing but lip, day in and day… what are you smiling at?”
“Not a thing, Rico. I just miss the two of you, God help me.”
“I want you with us up at the house. Can you stick around?”
“Be happy to. Just prepare yourselves. You’re about to get all tangled up in weird.”
“Damn, girl!” Yolie cried out as she stood there inside the fragrant warmth of the conservatory, gazing up, up at its four-story dome. “Somebody lives here?”
“Wait until you see what she’s got hanging on her parlor walls.”
Soave was speechless as he took in the highlights-the brightly colored tropical birds perched up there among the cast iron trusses, the vintage Lionel train that was chuff-chuff-chuffing its way around on its raised track.
Decked out in a pair of outlandish hot pink shades and a straw hat big enough to bathe in, the mistress of Four Chimneys was vigorously trimming back one of her Meyer lemon trees. “Why, it’s an entire contingent, Tolly!” Poochie exclaimed merrily at the sight of them.
Guy Tolliver was seated on the wicker sofa reading a copy of Vanity Fair and looking considerably more together than he had earlier that morning. His silver hair was neatly brushed, his loose-jowled face clean shaven. He wore a soft yellow flannel shirt with a gold silk ascot and a pair of green moleskin slacks. Beside him on the sofa, Bailey lay asleep. Tolly stood to greet them, a hopeful smile on his face. “You’ve found the Gullwing, have you?”
“I knew you would!” Poochie came charging toward them, yanking off her garden gloves. “Where was it, Des, at the beach?”
“Poochie, there’s been a new development since the last time we spoke. I’d like you to meet Lieutenant Rico Tedone and Sergeant Yolanda Snipes. They’re with the Major Crime Squad.”
“Surely a joyride doesn’t constitute a major crime in this state.”
“This isn’t about that, Mrs. Vickers,” Soave said.
“Please call me Poochie. And that good-looking home wrecker is Tolly.”
“Absolutely love your tie, lieutenant,” Tolly said pleasantly.
“Thanks,” Soave grunted, reddening.
Poochie removed her pink shades, the better to examine Yolie. “My, my, you’re a strongly built young lady. Do you lift weights?”
“Three times a week, ma’am.”
“I like the prideful way you hold yourself. Too many full-bosomed young women develop slumpy shoulders. Are you drinking plenty of milk?”
Yolie glanced at Des in bewilderment. “Um, not really…”
“You must start,” Poochie ordered her. “I myself drink four glasses of farm-fresh milk a day, and my height hasn’t changed a fraction of an inch since I was twenty-one. Now, Des, what is all of this?”
“We’ve found Pete the Can Man in the woods down near the foot of your driveway. Somebody bashed his head in.”
Poochie’s blue eyes flickered, as if her entire body had been zapped by an electrical current. “Do you mean… he’s dead?”
“It appears likely that it happened right around when your car was stolen.”
“Oh, my lord, they’re going like hotcakes…” Poochie sank into a wicker armchair, ashen-faced. Her voice sounded hollow, shaky. In fact, her entire edifice of peppy optimism seemed to have crumpled from within. “That’s what mother said when everyone… when they all started to die on her. Poor Pete. Such a dear soul.”
“You didn’t happen to see him when you took your wagon down there this morning, did you?” asked Des, surprised by how hard she was taking it.
Poochie didn’t answer Des. Didn’t seem to hear her.
“Des wants to know if you saw Pete today,” Tolly prodded her gently.
“Why, no…” she replied after a long moment. “He hadn’t come yet. Not until around seven, usually.”
Des heard footsteps now. Claudia was crossing the conservatory toward them.
“Who’s this?” Soave murmured at Des.
“The daughter, Claudia Widdifield.”
“Am I going to like her?”
“You could always surprise me.”
“Have you arrested the Kershaw boys?” Claudia asked.
“It’s old Pete, Claude,” Poochie said, her voice still quavery.
“He took your car? Mummy, I told you he wasn’t that harmless.”
“We’ve found his body near the foot of your drive,” Des explained. “Somebody murdered him.”
Claudia stared at her in surprise. “Why would someone do that to an old wino?”
“Pete was not a wino,” Poochie said indignantly. “He was a sensitive human being who did the best he could under very difficult circumstances. He didn’t complain. And he never harmed a soul.”
“Fine, have it your way.” Claudia turned back to Des. “About the Gullwing?…”
“We’re making good, steady progress, ma’am,” Soave told her. “Nothing we’re prepared to go into just yet.”
Claudia looked at him and Yolie rather doubtfully. “How can you be making ‘good, steady progress’ when you’re all standing around here?”
“Claude, dear?…” Poochie had a pained smile on her face. “Don’t you have someone’s interior to make over?”
Claudia flared instantly. “You don’t want me here, is that it?”
“I’ll keep you posted, dear,” Poochie assured her.
Claudia stormed off, her black pumps clacking sharply on the quarry tile.
“Please pardon my daughter, officers. The poor thing got brains and looks but no heart whatsoever.” Poochie retrieved her sunnies and gardening gloves from the coffee table. She’d already recovered her composure, it seemed. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Actually, we were wondering if we could have a word in private with Mr. Tolliver,” Soave said.
“Why, of course,” she said. “I want to finish my cassoulet, anyway. You’ll stay for lunch?”
“I don’t believe so, ma’am,” Soave said. “But thanks.”
“Very well. I shall be in the kitchen if you need me. Come along, young sir!” she roared, smacking her ancient dog on the rump.
Bailey stirred, yawning, and padded slowly along behind her.
“Do join me, please,” Tolly said, smiling at them graciously.
The three of them sat-Des beside Tolly on the sofa, Soave and Yolie in facing armchairs.
“Mr. Tolliver, exactly how do you support yourself?” Yolie asked him.
His smile slipped a bit, though he quickly recovered. “No small talk with you new generation types, is there? You just go right ahead and stick the knife in.”
Yolie didn’t respond. Just gazed at him steadily. With her big shoulders and battle-scarred street face, she
