Chapter Sixteen
Chapter
Sixteen
The answer to my internal question of what my next investigative steps should be came to me the following morning.
Not because I had a light bulb moment, but because I received an email from Minnie Yang.
She’d sent it out to all residents of the building, or at least to those of us who had email addresses, inviting us to a cocktail party that she and her partner, Yolanda Antonopoulos, would be hosting that evening as a sort of celebration of life for Freddie.
Although I had no affection for our building’s deceased superintendent, I didn’t need to be a detective to know that the gathering presented a golden opportunity for learning more about the dead man and what my neighbors thought of him.
Of course, I hoped that the person responsible for killing Freddie didn’t live in the building, but there was also a chance that the other residents would know about shifty characters who’d been hanging around or any recent suspicious activity.
I texted Jemma to see if she wanted to come along—I’d already filled her in on my foolish promise to Mrs. Nagy—but she declined, preferring to spend her Saturday evening doing pretty much anything else.
I couldn’t blame her. What did it say about my life that I was spending my Saturday evening hanging out at a party for a sleazy dead guy?
I didn’t want to ponder that question too deeply.
I wasn’t sure what to wear to a cocktail party held in honor of a murder victim, but after standing in front of my open closet for several minutes, I settled on a dark gray dress that I used to wear to work when I had an office job.
I tied my hair back in a sleek twist, applied a bit of makeup, and slipped into a pair of black heels.
All in all, I thought I looked appropriately somber, as well as professional and competent, good qualities for a private detective running her own agency. Not that I was a detective.
The elevator delivered me to the second floor, where the door to Minnie and Yolanda’s apartment stood open.
I hadn’t quite known what to expect in terms of attendance.
I didn’t think anyone in the building was close to Freddie, unless his mystery lady friend lived at the Mirage.
In fact, I was pretty sure he’d never been popular with the residents.
Trying to get him to fix things or simply to maintain the common areas was like trying to extract teeth from a cranky crocodile.
So I was a little surprised when I entered Minnie and Yolanda’s apartment to find well over a dozen people already there.
Discreet speakers piped quiet jazz music into the high-ceilinged living room, and the kitchen peninsula had been turned into a temporary bar.
Bodie stood behind the counter, pouring champagne for Leona and Agnes.
Leona was leaning so far over the counter that she was practically sprawled on it, and the neckline of her sparkly purple dress was so revealing that a wardrobe malfunction seemed imminent.
No doubt she was flirting with Bodie. He seemed to be taking it in stride, though.
He probably had women of all ages throwing themselves at him regularly.
My gaze lingered on him as I admired his strong profile. Maybe he sensed my presence, because he looked my way, and our eyes locked. He sent me a private smile that made my heart flutter. Then Leona put a hand on his arm, and he dragged his attention away from me.
Still standing near the door, I scanned the room, noting that I recognized everyone in attendance.
They all lived at the Mirage. Rosario stood with Yolanda and Carmen, apparently chatting about a large painting on the wall, which had Minnie’s signature in the bottom corner.
I’d hardly ever spoken with Yolanda, but I’d chatted with Minnie on a few occasions and knew that she was a professional artist. The canvas that currently held the women’s attention was mostly covered in a bronze, textured paint, with what looked like the slim trunk of a birch tree running from top to bottom on an angle.
A few black and silver brushstrokes broke up the bronze background, but otherwise there wasn’t much to it.
Of course, I knew next to nothing about art, so maybe it was a complicated piece that took weeks to make. I really had no idea.
Leona had finally left the bar—and Bodie—to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Harris, who I figured must be Theo’s grandparents.
Theo, however, wasn’t present. She was probably at home with her parents.
After all, she didn’t live at the Deco Mirage.
At least, that was my understanding. But I didn’t actually know much about Theo.
As Mr. and Mrs. Harris left Leona to speak with another Mirage resident, I took over the floor space they’d vacated.
“Hey, Leona,” I said as I fished the false eyelash out of my clutch. I’d transferred it from the tissue to a plastic baggie. “I found this in the building the other day and wondered if it might be yours?” I wasn’t about to say exactly where I’d picked it up.
Leona peered at the baggie and then waved a hand through the air dismissively, the many rings on her fingers glinting. “Darling, I don’t wear false eyelashes. I’m one hundred percent au naturel.”
It was a good thing I wasn’t drinking any champagne. I probably would have choked on it.
“Besides,” Leona continued, “there’s no point in returning it to its owner. Nobody wants to wear an eyelash that’s been lying about, touching who knows what.”
That I could agree with.
Nevertheless, I returned it to my clutch. I didn’t think Theo would be impressed if I tossed our only piece of evidence in the garbage. Not that Theo was the boss of me.
I snapped my clutch shut. “You know how you and Bitty overheard Freddie arguing with Rosario?”
“Of course I do, darling. My memory is as sharp as Esmeralda’s tongue.”
“Esmeralda?” I wondered if that was a Mirage resident I’d yet to meet.
“My character on Passion City.” Leona’s voice had taken on a slight edge, as if I’d insulted her.
“Right,” I said quickly. I’d never seen a single episode of Passion City, but I didn’t think it wise to mention that. “But you really don’t know what they were arguing about?”
Leona fluttered her fingers in the air. “Oh, who knows.” She touched the jeweled necklaces at her throat. “Although it might have had something to do with pets.”
“Pets?” I really needed to stop echoing what people said to me, or I might end up being known as the Mirage’s resident parrot.
“Yes, I think that’s it.” Leona’s forehead twitched, as if it would have scrunched up in thought if not for her most recent dose of Botox.
“They argued several times, you see. I remember once Freddie was upset that Rosario had more than the allowed number of pets in her unit.” Her attention drifted across the room, and she squeezed my arm with her clawlike fingers.
“Excuse me. I promised I’d tell Yolanda about the time I had a guest role on Miami Vice. ”
She glided across the room, leaving me alone with my pathetic piece of evidence shut away in my clutch. Leona’s eyelashes were about as real as the color of her violet eyes, but had she lied out of vanity or because she’d guessed where I’d found the clue?
Agnes had moved on from the bar to chat with a small group of residents gathered by the dining table, which held an array of finger foods, including some dainty petits fours and chocolate-topped profiteroles, which I suspected had been provided by Agnes and her daughter.
I smiled and said hello to several people as I slowly cruised past the dining table, snatching up a petit four on my way by. The delectable, two-bite dessert was long gone by the time I reached the bar.
“Quite the shindig, huh?” Bodie leaned his muscular forearms on the counter as he spoke to me. “Goes to show that nothing draws a crowd better than free food and booze.”
“Yolanda and Minnie are providing the drinks?”
“They supplied a few bottles of champagne. When those are empty, the bar closes.”
“It was nice of you to help out with the party.”
“Don’t go thinking too highly of me,” he warned. “Yolanda’s paying me fifty bucks to hang out here for an hour or so. I’m still paying off my student loans, so even with two bartending jobs, I’ll take any extra money I can get.”
“I hear you,” I said. “My life lately seems to be all about finding a job and paying bills.”
And now, apparently, solving a murder.
Bodie filled a champagne flute. “Then you’d better make the most of the free food and booze while you can. Besides, you deserve a break. You work too hard.”
I bit back a sardonic laugh. “I don’t even have a job.”
“At life,” he clarified. “You’re always working hard at life. Taking care of Livy, looking out for your friends and neighbors.”
“Thank you.” My words came out quietly as he handed me the flute, but I was thanking him for far more than the drink. He viewed me in such a positive light. I wasn’t sure I deserved it, but I appreciated it all the same.
I leaned against the bar as I took a sip of champagne and surveyed the room, remembering why I was there. “Do you think Freddie had any real friends?”
While a few people present, like Theo’s grandparents, wore suitably somber expressions, most seemed to be enjoying themselves, as if they were at a festive gathering rather than an event held in honor of a man who’d been murdered.
“Maybe down at the pool hall,” Bodie said with a shrug. “He hung out there a lot. I only know because it’s two doors down from the bar where I work.”
Across the room, Rosario tipped her head back as she let out a loud laugh in response to something Carmen had said. She certainly didn’t seem to be in mourning. Even more interesting was the fact that I could tell from across the room that she was wearing false eyelashes.
“How’s everything?” Minnie asked Bodie as she joined us at the bar.
“All good,” he assured her. “We’ve still got two bottles of bubbly.”
Minnie patted his hand. “Thanks so much for your help, Bodie.”
He flashed her a grin. “My pleasure.”
“Did you know Freddie well, Minnie?” I asked before she could drift away.
She fiddled with the gold cuff bracelet on her left wrist. “Oh, no. I never spoke to the man. Well, except to say hello maybe.” A slight smile wavered on her face before she scurried off to Yolanda’s side.
“Did you talk to Freddie much?” I asked Bodie once we were alone.
He leaned his forearms on the counter again. “From time to time. We weren’t buddies or anything, though.”
I wondered if I was being too obvious about my questioning. I didn’t think I should advertise the fact that I was investigating the murder. Although Agnes had probably announced the news to half the building already.
“I just realized I hardly know anything about the man,” I said, hoping that would explain my curiosity if Bodie didn’t already know that Wyatt Investigations—meaning me and only me—was on the case.
“Probably for the best,” he said. “The guy was a bit of a sleazebag.”
Don’t I know it? I thought.
I glanced at Bodie and silently cursed myself for the next thought that ran through my head.
Should I consider everyone who knew Freddie as a suspect, including Bodie?
He struck me as too genuine and kind to be a murderer, but then how well did I really know him?
He hadn’t lived at the Mirage all that long.
“Were you in the building around the time of the murder?” I asked, hoping I sounded casual. “Did you see or hear anything out of the ordinary?”
“I wish I could say I knew something that would help the cops find the killer,” he said with a slight frown, “but I was at work.”
“In the morning?” That struck me as odd. The bar where he worked wouldn’t have been open at that hour.
“I was helping the assistant manager with inventory,” he explained. “I take whatever overtime I can get.” He straightened up. “And I’m really glad I took on that shift, because the cops didn’t waste time looking at me as a suspect once they confirmed my alibi.”
“They thought you were a suspect?” I said with surprise. Even though I’d wanted to eliminate him from my list of suspects, I’d never considered him a real possibility and therefore hadn’t expected the police to either. “Why would you kill Freddie?”
“I wouldn’t, but I was arrested a couple of years ago after I tried to break up a fight at a nightclub. The charges were dropped, but as soon as the detective in charge of the murder case found out about the incident, he was knocking on my door. I hope he’s got some real suspects now.”
I hoped so too, for Mr. Nagy’s sake.
Bodie’s blue eyes focused on something over my shoulder. “Huh. I didn’t know Freddie would have any friends like that.”
I turned around and froze, my champagne flute at my lips.
Wyatt had just entered the apartment.