Stilettos & Scoundrels

  Chapter 11

  I came out of Home Depot squinting in the sunlight, relieved I could finally head home. I was exhausted after spending all morning running errands for my mother, and I felt tired and dirty. After the events of last night, I had been guilted into doing my mother’s bidding. I wanted to meet up with Katy, but knew I should help my mother first.

  I had called Dirt earlier to try to smooth things over, and to see if he had any leads on who could have broken the window or killed the senator; for that matter. Unfortunately, he was no closer to figuring out who had done either one, but didn’t seem as mad as he had yesterday, so I was happy about that.

  As I walked out to my car, I thought maybe I would make a quick run back to talk with Betty. The gossip I’d heard while in Katy’s salon yesterday made me think of a few more questions to ask the town baker, and I felt I deserved a muffin. A girl had to keep up her strength, and the cranberry walnut muffins Betty said they would be making today were calling my name. I also had to make time to go talk to the FBI; Dirt had reminded me that I hadn’t done that yet, and they were getting antsy. Since the police station was right down from Betty’s, it would be a crime not to stop in for a muffin.

  It seemed like more and more people looked unfavorably upon the senator, if you listened to gossip and read between the lines, which didn’t necessarily make my job of finding the murderer any easier. Not knowing what I was doing didn’t help either, and I started to wonder why I was doing this in the first place. I didn’t know anything about solving a murder. This was almost getting to be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. My cell phone rang somewhere deep in my purse, and both my hands were full. I started to juggle my mother’s packages, trying to get a hand free. I knew I should have used a cart.

  After grabbing on to every other item in my purse first, I found the phone, just as the ringing stopped. Damn it. I looked at the Caller ID and saw that it had been from Trevor. I had left him a message pitching him the idea of an article about the Senator, so that’s probably what he was calling back about. Oh well, I would just call him back later. The thought of putting my idea out there for someone else to hear was scary.

  I was about six feet away from my car when I noticed someone standing by it. Again? I was going to have to start parking where people couldn’t see me. However, this time it wasn’t Cooper waiting to chew me out. I was disappointed; I wouldn’t have minded seeing him again after yesterday.

  Instead, it was Helen Daniels waiting for me. That was a shocker. How in the world did Helen know I was there? I was surprised Helen even knew where Home Depot was. Something told me this wasn’t a social call to see how I was enjoying my day, or a visit to invite me to dinner.

  “Hi, Helen,” I said. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Helen looked angrier than grief–stricken, not what one would expect from someone whose husband was killed two days ago. She was still dressed to the nines and had awesome taste in accessories. Were those Manolos? I would kill to be able to afford those shoes. I cringed inwardly at my bad choice of words.

  “Who the hell do you think you are, snooping around my business?” Helen snapped at me, hands on hips, with looks that could kill on their own. Helen didn’t look nearly as attractive with her face all scrunched up in anger, and she had a loud screech. She took a step closer to me, wagging her finger in my face. “You need to stay away from me and stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!”

  I took a step back involuntarily. She was a little scary all mad like that, but I wasn’t easily intimidated. Almost made me wonder if she was the one who threw the rock through the window, but that didn’t at all seem like her style.

  “Helen, I am just trying to find out who killed your husband. Don’t you want to know who did that? Don’t you want justice?” I tried to reason with her, but she wasn’t biting. Didn’t she care, or did she have something to hide? There had to be a reason she was acting like this.

  “Does it matter? Does any of that matter? It won’t bring him back, nothing will. He’ll still be dead no matter what you do. Your snooping into my personal affairs isn’t going to bring him back. All you are going to do is spread more rumors, like there isn’t enough of that going on already in this Podunk town! It was bad enough I had to worry about what that asshole was doing to my reputation when he was alive. Now that he’s dead, I want to be left alone.”

  “So, help me figure this out, Helen. Let’s stop the gossip-mongers. Who could have killed him? Who might have wanted to see him dead? Did he have a lot of enemies?”

  “Like I could even count the people he pissed off on a daily basis. He was in politics; he was always pissing people off,” Helen said bitterly.

  “But does anyone stick out in your mind as having enough of a grudge to commit murder? There’s a lot of difference between thinking someone is an asshole and committing a murderer.”

  I was hoping Helen might be willing to share information to help me figure this out. But it didn’t look that way. “There is a lot about him that you don’t know. No one knows. If it got out, it would be a scandal, and I am not going to allow him to create a scandal now after he’s dead. I worked too hard to prevent it while he was alive. I have a reputation to uphold.”

  “Helen, he’s dead. How can a scandal hurt him?” I wasn’t sure why Helen would care at this point.

  “Who cares about him? I’m the one who would suffer. I will not have my name dragged through the mud. I’ve suffered enough because of him.”

  “Helen, it’s going to come out eventually. You are not going to be able to keep whatever it is you’re worried about a secret forever. Maybe, if you tell me, I can help you keep it quiet.”

  I could see Helen was wavering. My best guess was that she wanted to tell someone. She couldn’t be happy keeping it all to herself, and I wanted that someone to be me. “C’mon, Helen,” I cajoled. “It will make you feel better to talk about it.”

  “He had us over a million dollars in debt, that bastard,” she choked out. “These last couple of years, he got hooked on gambling. He started going to Vegas several times a year while I thought he was at political summits or whatever. I guess I didn’t pay that close attention. He lost heavily and owed some people—the kind you don’t want to owe money to. He finally had to tell me because the bank was about to foreclose on our D.C. house. The house here in Alkon would have been next. My family would have killed me. We just had it passed down to us, and he had mortgaged it without my knowledge. He swore to me that he was done after this last time. I believed him; I thought he wanted to change, so I took the money out of the family trust to pay his debts. I thought we could put our life back on track. Boy was I stupid. I still can’t believe I fell for his lies.” She put her face in her hands and sobbed.

  “What happened?” I asked, almost starting to feel sorry for her.

  “It was all a big joke. He was still making trips to Vegas, just hiding it better. Like most gambling addicts, he kept thinking that each time it would be different and that he would hit it big if he just kept trying that his luck was about to change any minute. All that happened was he got more heavily in debt to the people in Vegas. To make a bad situation worse, they started to let his loans slide in return for favors of political influence. He did it at first, but it started to get more and more out of control. It got to where he couldn’t do what they were asking, and they started putting a lot of pressure on him. He eventually came to me and came clean. He said he couldn’t continue to go through with it. They kept asking for more and more, asking for things that made him feel uncomfortable. Imagine, him having a conscience. If only it had not come too late.”

  “When he said he wasn’t going to do their dirty work anymore,” Helen continued, “they said I had to pay the loans back immediately. They swore they would kill him if he didn’t pay up by Friday. We didn’t know what to do, and we had nowhere to turn. I don’t have that kind of money in the trust fund, and I couldn’t tell the family.”

&nbsp
; And Sunday was the day he was murdered, a few days after his pay up deadline.

  “Who are these people, Helen? Do you think they went through with their threats?”

  Helen glared at me. “Who do you think they are, Presley? They’re people you don’t mess with.”

  When I thought of Vegas, I thought of Bugsy Siegel and Al Capone. John Gotti was in jail and seemed to be the last of the true gangsters. It was hard to believe Senator Daniels had been tangled up with the likes of those men. Could the senator have been mixed up with those kinds of people and gotten himself killed? Did that happen in everyday life?

  “Why haven’t you gone to the police with this, Helen? They should know. In fact, they should have known at the beginning of all this. People can’t threaten you and get away with it. They would have a better idea of where to look if you gave them this information.”

  “I told you, Presley. I’m not going to drag the my family’s name through the mud.”

  “You think that these men will still want their money even with the senator dead?”

  “Of course they will still want their money. They don’t care that Tom is dead. There is still a debt in their minds. And I’m planning on giving the money to them, if I can find a way to come up with it,” she said, fighting back anger and tears. “That’s the only way out of this. I want to pay them off so they will leave me alone and I can get on with my life,” she said.

  “Was this what you and Tobey were arguing about the other night at the Coffee Café?”

  Helen looked surprised at this comment. It was clear she must have been so engrossed in her conversation with Tobey that night she hadn’t even noticed who might be around to overhear them. For someone worried about her reputation that was somewhat irresponsible of her.

  “You saw that?” Helen asked hesitantly.

  “Yes, it looked like you were angry with Tobey.”

  “Well, that had nothing to do with Tom. Something else altogether.”

  I gave Helen a questioning glance, waiting to hear what it was they were arguing about, but she just stared at me. I thought that if I just stared back at her long enough, she would give in and tell me about it.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you,” Helen said, rolling her eyes. “Tobey’s been having an affair that was starting to affect his future. I like Tobey and don’t want to see that happen.”

  “Wait a minute. I thought Tobey was gay.”

  Helen pursed her lips. “That doesn’t mean he can’t have a fling. He is having an affair with Bobby Johnson. And that boy is nothing but trouble. I was trying to persuade Tobey to stay away from him. I care about Tobey.”

  “Oh.” I was speechless. Nothing could have surprised me more.

  Just then, I noticed a black Cadillac, one of those big boxy types, slow down as it drove by us. Helen noticed it too and became visibly shaken.

  “Helen!” I snapped to get her attention. “Who was that?”

  “Simon Atkins.”

  “Who’s that.”

  “He worked for Tom as security,” she said impatiently, as if I should have known.

  Must be the guy I had met but why would Helen be nervous about him?

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not positive, but I suspect he has ties to the men Tom owed,” Helen said nervously.

  “Helen, seriously? He works for Cooper. Don’t you think Cooper would know if Simon wasn’t on the level?”

  Helen shrugged. “I’m sure those people are good at hiding that sort of thing. They seem to have their ways.”

  “Have you told Cooper this?”

  “I told you I don’t want the police to know. That will make things even worse.”

  “Cooper’s not the police and he feels partially responsible for the senator’s death, so he might be able to help you.”

  “I don’t care, Presley. I don’t want this to get out. I can handle it myself,” she said stiffly.

  “Helen,” I implored.

  “Just stay away from me, Presley. Don’t you breathe a word about this to anybody or you’ll be sorry.” She turned and walked back to her car.

  When Helen left, I sat in my car thinking about my next move. Floored about the extent of the senator’s gambling problems, I let my thoughts go spinning in my head. The someone, or someone's, he had indebted himself to had definite motive for murder. I started my car and decided to go home and think about my next step. I needed to talk to Katy about this new development, but I knew she was busy and wouldn’t be around tonight. She wouldn’t say why either. When I asked, she was vague. I didn’t press the issue at the time, but I planned to get it out of my friend when I saw her next. I assumed Katy was spending time with Chris and didn’t want to tell me after our discussion about him earlier. I didn’t want her to think she needed to hide it from me. I would always be there for her no matter what.

  My phone started buzzing on the seat next to me. I looked at the screen and saw that it was Cooper. I had planned to call him anyway, so he had timed his call perfectly.

  “What do you want,” I said, not unkindly.

  “Well, I’m happy to hear from you too, King.”

  “I am glad you called. I got some interesting information. Helen Daniels paid me a visit. She confirmed the senator had a gambling problem and owed some people, some bad people.”

  “Fuck,” Cooper said under his breath. “Why the hell didn’t he tell me this? I knew he had a gambling problem in the past, but he said it was over. He had to have known he was getting in over his head.”

  “That’s not all. Now they’re trying to blackmail Helen for the money.”

  “I heard that Bobby Johnson has a gambling problem as well.”

  “What does he have to do with anything?” Cooper asked skeptically. “Senator Daniels and Bobby were hardly pals.”

  “I don’t know exactly. Maybe Bobby and Daniels were connected somehow. Isn’t it odd that in a small town like Alkon there would be two people with gambling problems?”

  “Presley, I agree it sounds like a coincidence, but I doubt it’s related. Many people have gambling addictions. You would be surprised. Ask your dad sometime. I bet he could tell you a half a dozen people with a problem of some sort. Besides, don’t you think it would be a stretch that they would be traveling in the same circles?”

  “Well, maybe gamblers and mobsters who loan out money to losers who gamble are tighter circles than we think. Besides Betty told me Mabel Winter’s daughter told her that Bobby saw the senator there. ”

  “Well, if Betty told you...” Cooper said chuckling, and I knew he was making fun of me.

  “Betty’s gossip is always reputable, I will have you know.”

  “King, I’m not saying it isn’t, but you have to admit it is far–fetched they would be running with the same crowd.”

  “Are you going to share and let me work with you?”

  “I told you this is not something you need to get involved in.”

  “Well, since you don’t need me, I’ll let you go,” I said frostily.

  “Please just tell me what is going on,” Cooper sighed.

  “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

  “Pres, wait a minute.”

  “Bye–bye,” I said.

  Frustrated by my conversation with Cooper, I was excited to see the outlet mall in the distance, thinking some retail therapy is just what I needed as a break from all this craziness.

  I considered myself a pro at spotting shopping a mile away and could sniff out bargains with the best of them. As I drew closer, the excited feeling I got when I was about to discover a new store first, or come across a great deal, washed over me. This mall hadn’t been open the last time I was home. I didn’t need to be spending money, the bill collectors were about one week from calling if I didn’t find a way to make money soon, but I couldn’t pass up a potential sale.

  I pulled into the mall parking lot and my excitement deflated a little. Unfortunately, it seemed to be the same old run–of–the–mi
ll outlet. The kind with a bargain haircut place, a Chinese fast–food restaurant, and a Starbucks knockoff called Le Café—not very original. Of course, the fact there wasn’t a real Starbucks here reinforced my decision to live in the city. But wait...squinting, I could vaguely make out a brand all too familiar to me and one I loved beyond...beyond...well, in a way, life itself. The sparkly neon spelled out Coach. I looked at my purse and wrinkled up my nose. It was a Prada knock–off, of course—kind of worn and dirty looking. I’d bought it from a street vendor right after the holidays. I thought maybe a new Coach purse was just what I needed—one that still had the new leather smell. Besides, I deserved a new purse just for having to put up with my mother this weekend. Plus, everyone knew Coach lasted forever. It was an investment, I told myself as part of me felt guilty for even thinking about spending money.

  I thought I might check out the Chinese place, too. My stomach was growling, and fried rice sounded yummy. All this detective work built up an appetite. I walked into a Chinese restaurant, thinking I would grab an eggroll along with my chicken fried rice, to fortify myself for some serious purse shopping, but I stopped short. Sitting in a grimy back booth (the place didn’t look the cleanest) was Bobby Johnson and someone I didn’t recognize. Though if I looked in the dictionary under mobster, this man’s picture would be worth a thousand words.

  The man was dressed in an impeccable three–piece suit, and not a cheap one. I would have to give the man credit for his taste in clothes; I loved a man in a good suit. Someone with that kind of taste couldn’t be all bad. He wore a lot of gold jewelry, somewhat ostentatious, but it fit with his whole look.

  He was older, maybe around sixty–ish with a full head of black hair. His hair had just a hint of silver, the kind of hair that looked distinguished on men, but that women spent hundreds at the salon trying to hide. I couldn’t really tell how tall he was sitting down, but he was solidly built, thick and strong without being fat and looked intimidating. He also looked a little familiar to me which was dumb. I didn’t know anyone who even remotely looked gangsterish. He was someone who, even on first glance, you knew you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley. Or in broad daylight for that matter, unless you were his wife, girlfriend, daughter, or priest.

  Should I walk up and talk to Bobby? See if I could find out who that guy is?

  Just as I decided I would sneak up on them and say a casual hello to Bobby, he looked up and saw me. A look of recognition, combined with shock, crossed Bobby’s face. I thought he thought he could drive here and not be seen by anyone.

  He gave a subtle shake of his head, as if to say, don’t come over here. Even though, I really wanted to see what was going on now. I decided to give Bobby a break and left the restaurant.

  I decided to sit in my car and wait for Bobby to come out. Forgoing my Coach purse shopping was no great sacrifice, as once I got close enough to the store sign, I saw that it said Goach. I should’ve known there wouldn’t be a genuine Coach store out here. As disappointed as I was, my bank account would remain happy, as would my thighs for not eating fried rice.

  Waiting for Bobby to come out of the restaurant so I could find out who that guy was seemed like a better plan than spending money anyway. I was prepared to wait as long as it took. So, to be productive and pass the time, I cleaned out my purse. It was a jumbled mess, and I could never find anything in it. I had a bad habit of shoving everything in there. Amazing what a person collects in their purse. I pulled out gum wrappers, a half ate candy bar (which would come in handy since I was starving), a bill payment that better find a mailbox soon, and a bunch of other junk. I filed my nails, ate the candy, and started to play Twenty Questions, which was a very boring game when played alone. It wasn’t much of a challenge.

  About an hour went by and I was getting antsy with the need to pee. I was just about to get out of my car and run back into the knock–off coffee shop to use the restroom when Bobby finally came out. The Mob Dude, as I had already named him, walked out behind Bobby. Then went over to an expensive–looking black Lincoln, that looked a lot like the one Simon had been driving, got in and drove away.

  This was Alkon and there weren’t that many Lincolns on the streets. I waited until Mob Dude pulled out of the parking lot to jump out of my car and confront Bobby. He was just getting ready to pull out too, as I jumped in front of his truck to stop him. He hit the brakes and rolled down his window to yell at me.

  “What the hell are you doing, Presley? I almost hit you.”

  I ran around and jumped in the passenger side. I wasn’t taking any chances; Bobby might try to take off without talking to me.

  “Excuse me! Why are you getting in my car? Hey! Stop it!” Bobby yelled, referring to me sweeping a bunch of junk off the front seat of his dirty upholstery.

  “Why? Are you afraid your car might fall apart if I clean off the seat?” If I wasn’t mistaken, this was the same car he had in high school. What had once been a halfway cool truck was now riddled with rust holes and so much grey primer covering holes he had tried to fix that I could hardly tell that the truck had once been blue. It was probably paid off though which was more than I could say for mine. “Bobby, this is kind of gross.” The interior had stains of god knows what all over.

  “Then get out, Presley.”

  “We need to talk, Bobby. And I am not getting out of this truck until you tell me what I want to know.”

  “About what?” he said, clearly resigned to the fact I wasn’t going to budge from his passenger seat without answers.

  “First of all, I want to know who that was you were just talking to. Second, how much do you owe due to your gambling problem and to whom? Third, what’s going on with you and Tobey?” I looked up. “I think that’s it for now.”

  “What makes you think I would tell you anything? What business is it of yours?”

  “So, how much do you owe, Bobby?” I said, ignoring his question.

  “A hundred and fifty thousand,” he said, dejected, not even trying to deny the gambling issue this time.

  Not quite as much as Tom Daniels, but then again, the senator and his wife had money, so comparatively, it was a lot more. Six figures might as well be six million dollars, in my opinion. I was sure it was in Bobby’s too. No wonder he looked upset. “Is that guy you were meeting with the person you owe?”

  “Yes, that’s Garrison Palazzo. He’s highly connected in Vegas and is owner ,or part owner in many different businesses there. One of which is the Blue Royale Casino, which is where I played and lost. Lost big. I was so stupid. I just thought if I played a few more hands I could make it back,” Bobby said, putting his head in his hands.

  “So, is that the same person the senator owed?”

  “I don’t know who the senator owed, or even if he did,” Bobby replied looking back up. If he knew about any connection, he hid it well. He seemed to be telling the truth, which disappointed me. Not the fact he was telling the truth, but the fact that he didn’t seem to have anything much to add to what I already knew.

  “Now, will you please get out of my car?” He leaned over me and tried to open the passenger door.

  I pushed his arm away. “No. What were you two discussing?”

  “I’ve been doing some odd jobs for him since I don’t have even close to that kind of money, and I can’t go to my parents for anymore. This would devastate them.”

  “What kind of odd jobs?”

  “Just things,” Bobby hedged, obviously not wanting to tell me the truth, which I couldn’t blame him.

  “Like what? Mowing his lawn? Watering his plants?” I questioned, pretty sure that wasn’t it.

  “Presley, I don’t want to talk about it. I got myself into this mess, and I’m doing what I can to get out of it. I need to start a new life. And I sure as hell don’t need you bugging me. It’s not helping any.”

  I just stared at him because, of course, I thought that whatever he was doing had a big chance of being illegal, which even for Bobby, was a
stretch.

  Sensing what I was thinking, Bobby spoke up. “Don’t worry, Presley. I am not doing anything more wrong than the gambling in the first place. I want to get out of this mess, not make it worse. Now, please get out of my car.”

  Bobby seemed depressed and I couldn’t blame him. He was in so deep it was going to take a lot to get out. “I saw a car that looked like that Lincoln, as a matter of fact, looked exactly like that Lincoln, at the grocery store talking to Simon. Why?”

  “I don’t know, Pres. Get everything you wanted? Would you please get out of my car...now?”

  I opened the door to get out and paused, thinking of one more thing. “Bobby, do you think you could ask Garrison if he knew anything about the senator owing people money?”

  Bobby looked at me as if I was crazy. Actually, make that one step past crazy to insane. “Are you freaking kidding me? You want me to ask a Mob boss about other people that owe him money. Specifically, someone who’s now dead? Are you sure you don’t want me to just ask him if he murdered the senator?”

  “If you could, that would be…,” I said, ignoring the sarcasm.

  “Get out, Presley! Go ask him yourself! Wait. Forget I said that because you would be stupid to do that. Just leave me alone.”

  “Okay, okay. But don’t think you can hide this, Bobby. Dirt and Cooper are going to find a connection at some point.”

  Already halfway out the door, Bobby pretty much pushed me the rest of the way out. When I walked back to my car, I spotted a sign on the knock–off coffee shop door that said: Internet access: 30 minutes per customer. This gave me a thought. Never underestimate the power of Google; the world was really at my fingertips.