The Valentine's Day Murder Read online

  “But you don’t think walking across Lake Erie gave him that kind of a high.”

  “It didn’t. Val was rational. He wouldn’t put his life in jeopardy to be able to say, ‘I skated over to Canada.’ ”

  “Well, there’s plenty of money in these three bank accounts if he wanted it.”

  “He hasn’t tried to take it out. I called the detective on the case when I went upstairs. He’s checked all three banks. I gave him the account numbers last week.”

  “So Val kept all this cash in case he needed it, and he hasn’t taken any out.” I didn’t have to say the obvious. “Something else. I found several unanswered letters that seem to have technical information in them. I would think someone as comfortable with computers as Val would do most of his correspondence on the computer. E-mail, I think it’s called.”

  “He did, but e-mail isn’t secure. Those letters contain information that’s private, or even secret. He wouldn’t want to pass it along except in a sealed envelope.”

  “So he uses the computer for chatting with friends and maybe making lunch dates, but puts his important ideas in the regular mail.”

  “That’s just what he does.” Carlotta looked at her watch. “Let me tell you how to get to Annie’s house.”

  Annie’s house was also large, but it was in a more built-up neighborhood and had less land. I parked on the street and walked up the concrete path to the front door. She must have been waiting just inside because as I rang, the door opened.

  Annie Franklin was tall and slim. She looked like a woman who took good care of herself. Her fingernails were long, well-shaped, and glossed with a dark color I did not find attractive, but which was probably the season’s best seller. She was wearing a white silk blouse with a big collar and brown pants with pleats. Her hair was long and just a little redder than brown. A couple of bracelets on one wrist jingled slightly when she moved.

  We exchanged names and I gave her my condolences.

  “Thank you.” She took my coat and hung it in a nearby closet. “Let’s sit in the garden room.” She started for the back of the house and I followed her. The garden room was half glass with potted plants of many different kinds soaking up the plentiful sun. I told her how beautiful it was as we sat.

  “It’s even nicer with the doors open, but it’s too cool today for that. Can I get you some pop? I’m not a coffee drinker so I don’t keep it around.”

  “I’m fine, thanks. I’d just like to talk to you a little about what happened.”

  “Why is Carlotta doing this?” she said.

  “She wants to find her husband. I think that’s the whole answer.”

  “Where does she think he is?”

  “I don’t think she has any idea. She thinks he went away somewhere that night, February fourteenth, and hasn’t come back for whatever reason.”

  “It’s a little naive, don’t you think?”

  “I think she loves him and wants to believe he’s still alive.”

  “Where would he be?” Annie said, her shoulders rising slightly as though she could not imagine.

  “Maybe recovering from the shock of hearing what happened to his two best friends.”

  “He didn’t strike me as a guy who would go off the deep end.”

  “How did he strike you?”

  “Tough, smart, not much of a risk-taker.”

  “Then you don’t believe he crossed the lake with the others?”

  “I think he did. I think he pulled the trigger and ended up going down with the others.”

  “Why would he kill your husband, Annie?”

  Her eyes filled. “Maybe Matty just got to be too much for him.”

  “In what way?” I felt excitement rising inside me. Carlotta had been so low-key, so even-handed in everything she said. This woman was loaded with opinions and not at all reticent about expressing them.

  “Val had his eye on me,” she said. “For years.”

  My excitement turned to instant distaste. The last thing I wanted was to get involved in a game of musical chairs among the three couples. “Did Carlotta know?” I asked.

  “Carlotta wouldn’t have believed it if you’d drawn her a map.”

  “Was there an affair between the two of you?” I asked, wanting to get as much as possible out in the open.

  She shook her head slowly. “Never. I was married to the world’s greatest man. Matty was the handsomest, most exciting guy I ever knew. Val was nothing compared to him.”

  “Do you and Carlotta get along well?”

  “What did she tell you? That we were the best of friends? We weren’t. We couldn’t stand each other. We tolerated each other for the sake of our husbands.”

  “Does that include Bambi?”

  “It includes Bambi most of all. I hear she won’t even talk to you.”

  “That’s right.”

  “She knows either her husband or Carlotta’s pulled the trigger, and it looks more like hers since they’ve found the two bodies together. It’s got her down.”

  “But you don’t sound as though you blame her or her husband. You blame Carlotta’s.”

  “Clark could have done it,” she said, crossing her long legs. “I just can’t think why he would.”

  “Did your husband own a handgun?”

  “Matty was a hunter. He hunted animals, not people. He owned several rifles and he enjoyed using them. I don’t think he ever had a handgun in his possession.”

  “Annie, did the men know that the women didn’t like each other much?”

  “Matty knew. I told him.”

  “How often did all of you get together?”

  “Maybe once a month. Maybe less. The guys talked to each other all the time. They didn’t need us to stay close.”

  “You’ve given me two nice thumbnail descriptions of Matty and Val. Can you do it for Clark?”

  She smiled as though I had complimented her. “Clark’s easy. Simple, uncomplicated, never dreamed of anything he couldn’t achieve with a little hard work. He had a business that he owned, a wife who loved him, a couple of kids, and a nice house. Clark was a happy man.”

  “Was Matty happy?”

  Her face darkened a little. “We were happy with each other,” she said. “But there was a lot he wanted that he didn’t have.”

  “Like what?”

  “His own business. He was going to start one with a couple of friends just before he died.”

  “This must be very hard for you, Annie.”

  She nodded and her eyes filled again. “We should have had another forty years together.” She got up and walked back into the house proper, returning a moment later with something in her hand. “Have you ever seen pictures of the three men?”

  “No.”

  “Here’s one we took last summer. You’ve got my thumbnail sketches. Pick them out for me.”

  I took the frame and looked at the five-by-seven horizontal picture of three men in bathing suits on a beach. She was right. I could pick them out from her descriptions. “That’s Matty in the middle.”

  “Right. You ever see a more gorgeous hunk of man?”

  I smiled. The man on the left had to be Val, only because I was sure the one on the right was Clark. The latter was slim and good-looking, shorter than Matty and thinner than Val. Val was huskier, starting to lose his hair. All three were laughing, all were wet, all had their arms around their buddies’ shoulders.

  “Clark’s the one on the right,” I said.

  “You got it. And Val’s the guy on the left with his head somewhere else. He’s probably putting a computer together while he’s standing there.” She took the picture from me and stared at it. “That’s the same beach they left from on Valentine’s Day. They found Matty’s car there the next day.”

  “When did you know something was wrong?”

  “When I woke up on the fifteenth. I called Bambi and she was getting nervous.”

  “Did either of you call Carlotta?”

  “I think mayb
e I did.”

  “What happened?”

  “She was out of town.”

  “Did Val answer?”

  She looked at me as though I had misunderstood the situation. “Val was dead. How could he have answered?”

  “We don’t really know that he’s dead. There’s a possibility he didn’t cross the lake, that he came home, went to sleep, and then left when he heard the news.”

  “He didn’t answer,” she said. “Nobody answered.”

  “Did you leave a message?”

  “I don’t remember. I may have hung up before the machine came on.”

  That would mean she had only let it ring three or four times.

  “If I called at all,” she said, while I was thinking it over. “That wasn’t the best morning of my life. A lot of it’s just a blur.”

  “Who called the police?” I asked.

  “Maybe both of us. You’ll have to ask Bambi. I know I did.”

  “When?”

  She thought about it. “I had to get the kids off to school and I didn’t want them to worry. Maybe I called after they left.”

  “Did you have any idea what had happened?”

  She shook her head. “They were going out to celebrate Val’s birthday. You know he was born on Valentine’s Day.”

  “Yes.”

  “It was their anniversary, too. Did she tell you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “But she had to go out of town so just the guys got together. Matty told me they were having dinner at Giordano’s. It’s an Italian restaurant everyone goes to. He walked out the door and I never saw him again.” She looked beaten down as she said it.

  “He never hinted they might walk across the lake?”

  “Do I look like I’d stand for that?”

  “Why do you think they did it, Annie?”

  “I suppose Matty dared them. It’s the kind of thing he’d do. It was a challenge. Matty’s life was full of challenges. He took them on, one after the other.”

  “Do you think one of the other men brought a gun along to kill Matty?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” she said. “I know I told you I believed Val did it, but how can I know for sure? What I’m sure of is that whoever had the gun must have had it with him when they went to dinner. From Giordano’s, it’s not far to the beach. It would have been out of the way to drive one of the guys home to pick something up.”

  “He might not have been wearing the right shoes,” I suggested. “Or a warm enough jacket.”

  “Then it had to be Val. Matty never came back here, and Bambi would know if Clark came back.”

  “So it looks like it was premeditated.”

  “Doesn’t it,” she said.

  “We just don’t know why.”

  I pushed the button on the remote control and the garage door lifted smoothly. The car fitted its allotted space perfectly, and another push on the button closed the door behind me.

  Carlotta was in the living room reading a book. She closed it and looked up as I came in.

  “She talked pretty freely,” I said. “She wasn’t what I expected.”

  “People rarely are. Do you want to rest for a while?”

  It took a moment before I remembered I was pregnant. “I’m fine,” I said. “I’d just like to leave a message for my husband on our answering machine. Let him know I arrived.”

  “Sure. Whenever you’re ready, we can go out to dinner. I made a reservation, but we don’t have to stick to it. You like Italian food?”

  “Love it.”

  “You’re in for a treat. We’re going to Giordano’s.”

  5

  It was the kind of place where you could wear whatever made you comfortable, where you recognized friends as you walked in, where the waitress knew you and was glad to see you. We were shown to a table for four, and two of the place settings were whisked away as we sat.

  “This is the table they sat at,” Carlotta said, and I felt a chill. “Their waitress is here tonight. You’ll be able to talk to her. I’ll leave the two of you alone if you’d like.”

  “Let’s see how it goes,” I said.

  “Drink?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  “I’ve never been much of a drinker, but my doctor warned me off alcohol. And since it makes me sleepy more than anything else, it’s not much of a loss.”

  “You don’t mind if I indulge?”

  “Not at all.”

  She ordered Scotch on the rocks with a twist and turned to me. “Do I get to hear about your conversation with Annie?”

  “Sure. No conflict of interest that I can see. She seems savvy and open and full of opinions.”

  “Which she tosses out without much coaxing.”

  “That’s about it. She wavered a little on whether Clark or Val killed Matty, but she comes down heavier on Val.”

  “Why not? He’s missing.”

  “She says Val had his eye on her. For years.”

  “Oh, Annie.” Carlotta sighed. “She can’t live without it, the feeling that she’s the center of attention whenever men are around, that everyone else’s husband would rather have her than his own wife. It really gets boring, but she never lets up.”

  “Then you’re pretty sure there’s nothing there.”

  “Absolutely certain.”

  “You don’t like her very much, do you?”

  “Oh, she has her good points.” Carlotta sipped her drink. “I guess we all do.”

  “Maybe Annie was the one who had an eye on your husband,” I suggested. “Not the other way around.”

  “That’s possible. Val introduced her to Matty.”

  “Val dated her first?”

  “Val knew her. I don’t think they dated.”

  “Were they all high school friends?”

  “Annie came from somewhere else. When she was older.”

  “What about you?” I asked. “How did you meet Val?”

  “We met skiing.” She smiled. “Just like in books. It was a great love story. I couldn’t have improved upon it.” She looked up. A waitress was standing at her side. “Shall we order? If I get started talking, I’ll go on all night.”

  The menu was so long that I turned to the board with the daily specials and picked a veal dish. It was offered in medium and large sizes, and I resisted the waitress’s attempts to get me to order the large. When the dish came, I knew I had made the right decision.

  “Do I get to hear the love story?” I asked.

  “With pleasure. A friend and I decided to spend the weekend at a ski resort. I met Val my first time on the slopes. I liked the way he looked, and I guess he felt the same about me. We had a cup of coffee, and we both knew there was magic there. We spent the whole weekend talking. When we left on Sunday, I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life without him.”

  “That was very quick, a weekend.”

  “Everything in our lives was quick. We met by accident, we fell in love over a cup of coffee, and he was taken away from me in the blink of an eye.”

  “You didn’t meet on Valentine’s Day, did you?”

  “No, it was a weekend in January. And we didn’t get married till the following year. But I think we knew that first Valentine’s Day that we were meant for each other. We were brimming over with love. And it never flagged, Chris. We wove our lives together. We had different talents, different professional interests, but our relationship was the core of our existence.”

  She was very persuasive. I found myself imagining the two of them in ski clothes, red-cheeked and grinning, snow all over. I could see the progression as it took place from first looks to first words to what necessarily followed each. I not only believed Carlotta; I wanted to believe her. I didn’t want to think that Annie Franklin had come between this couple, that on the night of his birthday and anniversary Val had had it out on the frozen lake with his friend, Annie’s husband, that he had shot Matty so that he could have Annie. Cou
ld the same man that loved Carlotta have been wooed away by Annie? I found it hard to believe.

  The meal was sumptuous. The main dish was accompanied by spaghetti and a plate of fried zucchini that we shared. A covered basket had a small loaf of garlic bread. If I were eating this meal in Oakwood, I would take home enough to keep me going for a day or two.

  As I was twisting some spaghetti on my fork, a man walked over to the table and said, “Evening, Mrs. Krassky.”

  Carlotta looked up. “Chief, hi. Chris, this is Chief of Police Hellman. Chief, this is my friend Chris Bennett Brooks. We’re putting our heads together to find Val.”

  “Well, I wish you both luck. You find anything out, you know where to find me.”

  “You’ll be the first to know,” Carlotta said.

  Chief Hellman gave me a smile and a nod, patted Carlotta’s shoulder, and walked away.

  “I guess you don’t eat out incognito any more.”

  “Not since Valentine’s Day. The chief’s in here all the time. I knew him by sight for years, but I never met him till the accident.”

  “It must be tough, knowing he suspects your husband of murder.”

  “It’s tough on Bambi, too. I’ve thought about it a lot, as you can imagine. If we never find Val, we’ll never know the truth. And suppose we do find him, will anyone believe him if he says he’s innocent?”

  “Let’s not think about that now. Let’s just try to find him.”

  “I think Peggy’s coming over to talk to you. The waitress,” she explained. “I think I’ll just go over to the bar and sit there while you talk.”

  Before I had time to say anything, she left, and the waitress who had been serving us came over and sat down at one of the unset places.

  “I’m Peggy,” she said. “Carlotta said you wanted to talk to me.”

  “I’m Chris. Thank you for helping. I’m trying to find Val. I want to know everything you can remember about those three men that night.”

  “I’ll tell you what I remember,” she said. “They were in here a lot.” She was a thin woman in her forties, her skin pale, her lipstick very red, her hair an unnatural shade of blond. “Everybody knew them. I could tell you what they liked to drink, what they would and wouldn’t eat. I still can’t believe it happened.”