returned to her voice.
“What if I told you there’s been a suggestion that he might have been dealing?”
Marilyn was incredulous. “Drugs? Frankie? I’d say you were nuts. Stark, raving bonkers.”
“Why? Isn’t it possible?”
“Not a chance. Frankie wouldn’t have taken that kind of risk. Believe me, all he ever wanted since I-don’t-know-when was to be a big shot, someone important. Apparently being a chiropractor didn’t do it for him. But now it looked like he was finally getting the opportunity to go into politics. In fact, he already had his foot in the door. Even though he lost the race for the assembly last year, the party was so impressed with his showing that they were grooming him for bigger and better things. At least, that’s what he told me. And I’m certain it was true, too. Listen, Frankie would never have gotten involved in anything that could mess up his future. Of that, I’m positive.”
“It makes sense,” I declared to Lou a few minutes later. “When you really think about it, drugs don’t fit in with what we know about the victim, either. I hate to say this, Lou, but if you ask me, we’re back where we started.”
“Not so fast. Having the same grandparents doesn’t exactly make cousin Marilyn an expert on Vincent. Maybe he was desperate for the bucks—running for office can be pretty damned expensive, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
Well, of course there was no way I could tell Lou that this was one aspiring politician who didn’t have to be concerned about funding. “Vincent wouldn’t have risked it,” I said stubbornly.
“Maybe not. But before I reach any conclusion about that, I’m going to keep our appointment with Sheila Vincent. Don’t forget, she was related to the man, too.”
Chapter 15
“By the way, I left a message on Doris Shippman’s machine last night,” Lou informed me in the car, “and she returned my call this morning. She only has this one class today—she must be a teacher—and she was due home by a little past eleven. So we can pay her a visit after we’re through at Sheila’s.” There was a pause. “Listen, Desiree, let me ask you this: As you know from my report, last week Pete and I questioned everyone who was working in those two buildings on Hedden Circle that Wednesday. Also, we contacted any visitors to the companies over there that day—including delivery people. You want to talk to them all yourself anyway?”
Well, considering the tone of his voice, I could just about picture Lou’s face if I answered in the affirmative. “You didn’t come across any witnesses, I gather.”
“You kidding? Hardly anyone was still around at the time of the shooting.”
“What about earlier? Did anybody notice the Camry?”
“I’d guess the car wasn’t there much before six—the perp was probably waiting until most of the people had left for home. One woman thought she might have walked by it, but she wasn’t sure—that was around six-fifteen.”
“It sounds like you and Pete already established that no one in those buildings can be of help to us. So I’ll pass.”
Lou nodded, his face a blank, but I knew he must be satisfied with the response.
Then I remembered something. “What about Vincent’s secretary or receptionist or whatever she is, though? As I recall, she didn’t stay late on Wednesday, did she?”
“Receptionist,” Lou clarified. He snickered. “Her stay late? Not on your life. Ms. Taylor is fifty if she’s a day, and a real beaut. False eyelashes, dyed red hair”—of course I winced at this one—“and makeup she must pile on with a shovel. She said if he wanted to spend half his life in that place, it was okay with her, but he couldn’t pay her enough to work past five. After all, she has a social life to consider.”
“Did you, uh, ask her about any enemies Vincent might have had?” I inquired timidly.
“What do you think?” Lou retorted, his tone a shade irritable. Then more evenly:
“What if I told you there’s been a suggestion that he might have been dealing?”
Marilyn was incredulous. “Drugs? Frankie? I’d say you were nuts. Stark, raving bonkers.”
“Why? Isn’t it possible?”
“Not a chance. Frankie wouldn’t have taken that kind of risk. Believe me, all he ever wanted since I-don’t-know-when was to be a big shot, someone important. Apparently being a chiropractor didn’t do it for him. But now it looked like he was finally getting the opportunity to go into politics. In fact, he already had his foot in the door. Even though he lost the race for the assembly last year, the party was so impressed with his showing that they were grooming him for bigger and better things. At least, that’s what he told me. And I’m certain it was true, too. Listen, Frankie would never have gotten involved in anything that could mess up his future. Of that, I’m positive.”
“It makes sense,” I declared to Lou a few minutes later. “When you really think about it, drugs don’t fit in with what we know about the victim, either. I hate to say this, Lou, but if you ask me, we’re back where we started.”
“Not so fast. Having the same grandparents doesn’t exactly make cousin Marilyn an expert on Vincent. Maybe he was desperate for the bucks—running for office can be pretty damned expensive, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
Well, of course there was no way I could tell Lou that this was one aspiring politician who didn’t have to be concerned about funding. “Vincent wouldn’t have risked it,” I said stubbornly.
“Maybe not. But before I reach any conclusion about that, I’m going to keep our appointment with Sheila Vincent. Don’t forget, she was related to the man, too.”
Chapter 15
“By the way, I left a message on Doris Shippman’s machine last night,” Lou informed me in the car, “and she returned my call this morning. She only has this one class today—she must be a teacher—and she was due home by a little past eleven. So we can pay her a visit after we’re through at Sheila’s.” There was a pause. “Listen, Desiree, let me ask you this: As you know from my report, last week Pete and I questioned everyone who was working in those two buildings on Hedden Circle that Wednesday. Also, we contacted any visitors to the companies over there that day—including delivery people. You want to talk to them all yourself anyway?”
Well, considering the tone of his voice, I could just about picture Lou’s face if I answered in the affirmative. “You didn’t come across any witnesses, I gather.”
“You kidding? Hardly anyone was still around at the time of the shooting.”
“What about earlier? Did anybody notice the Camry?”
“I’d guess the car wasn’t there much before six—the perp was probably waiting until most of the people had left for home. One woman thought she might have walked by it, but she wasn’t sure—that was around six-fifteen.”
“It sounds like you and Pete already established that no one in those buildings can be of help to us. So I’ll pass.”
Lou nodded, his face a blank, but I knew he must be satisfied with the response.
Then I remembered something. “What about Vincent’s secretary or receptionist or whatever she is, though? As I recall, she didn’t stay late on Wednesday, did she?”
“Receptionist,” Lou clarified. He snickered. “Her stay late? Not on your life. Ms. Taylor is fifty if she’s a day, and a real beaut. False eyelashes, dyed red hair”—of course I winced at this one—“and makeup she must pile on with a shovel. She said if he wanted to spend half his life in that place, it was okay with her, but he couldn’t pay her enough to work past five. After all, she has a social life to consider.”
“Did you, uh, ask her about any enemies Vincent might have had?” I inquired timidly.
“What do you think?” Lou retorted, his tone a shade irritable. Then more evenly:
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