Madness in Brewster Square Read online

  My apartment is large and takes up the entire third floor. The space is large and light-filled, plus I have the bonus of my aunts living downstairs. My front door opens into the living room, a wide and spacious area with floor to ceiling windows to the right that looked over the front of the building. To the left is the kitchen, separated from the living room by a counter. Directly in front of us a hallway led to the back two bedrooms and bathroom.

  Stanley looked at me, an uncomfortable silence stretching between us. I knew this was about Kenny, and even though I didn’t like the guy sometimes I admit feeling the tiniest bit sorry for him. I often thought that underneath all that hair gel and cologne he might not be a bad person, if only he bothered to see things from other people’s perspectives.

  Finally, Stanley threw the question at me. “Does Kenny show up here a lot? He looked pretty comfortable sitting there.”

  “We’ve known each other a long time,” I said. “Since kindergarten, actually. But it’s not like we’re close friends or anything. I think he comes over here because he’s lonely.”

  Yikes, that didn’t sound good. Maybe I should try to say it differently.

  “We don’t, we’re not—we don’t do anything, we never did. I mean, we used to date, but I wouldn’t, not with him …” Charlie was right, I should have come home alone. Then I could have kicked Kenny out by myself, and that would have been that. I’d been dealing with him since elementary school, so telling Kenny to get lost wasn’t anything new to me.

  “Even if you’re not sleeping with him, I was wondering if I have any competition,” Stanley said.

  I hesitated. Sure, I really liked Stanley. And yes, we’d been flirting with each other for months. But that question took me by surprise and left me wondering if I should play hard to get. I’d never been sure about the rules of dating. I wasn’t a person who liked to play games, but then again I hadn’t had a steady boyfriend since college, when I decided I couldn’t be with someone who constantly criticized my hair and clothes. Leaving that guy had been easy, but I never felt as if I’d learned anything about this dating game. Did men like it better when we weren’t as available, or did they get scared off easily?

  “Do you think I’d go out with you if I was seeing someone else?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know, sometimes women date more than one person at a time,” Stanley said, running a hand through his hair and causing it to stick up on top. “I don’t think you’re that kind of person, but I’ve been surprised before by what people will do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, especially since we haven’t even had our first date yet. I guess I’m just trying to figure out where I stand.”

  Stanley started pacing across the living room, a habit I’d seen him lapse into at public meetings. It tended to make the others on the town council nervous, and I wondered if anyone really heard what he said once Stanley started pacing. It was hard to focus with him moving back and forth.

  He stopped, looking directly at me. “You’re a very attractive woman, and I guess I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a while. That question, that was just my way of trying to assess the probability of this relationship developing into something more.”

  Geek-alert. Sensitive guy or budding serial killer?

  “Sometimes I say things that don’t come out quite right,” he said.

  I could certainly identify with that.

  “So let’s just pretend I didn’t ask, okay?”

  I relented. I liked him and wanted to see what this attraction was between us, and I really couldn’t blame him for asking. But I had to wonder about the question. Usually guys asked questions like that when they’ve been burned by other people. The thing is, sometimes you have to take a chance on a relationship. Not that I would know about that, of course, but I’d read it somewhere.

  I flipped on more lights, illuminating the hallway. It only took Stanley a couple of minutes to check the entire apartment and declare it intruder-free.

  “Make sure you lock your doors tonight,” Stanley said. “Do you have to work in the morning?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m planning on putting my notes in order so I can figure this out.”

  “Figure what out?”

  “G wants me to look into this murder. He thinks it’s going to be bad for business,” I said. “Any thoughts or ideas to get me started?”

  Stanley shook his head and pushed his glasses up as they slid down his nose. “No, no and no,” he said. “I cannot in any way help you with something like that.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “But you’re the mayor,” I said. “You must have some kind of connections.”

  “It’s not what you think,” he said.

  “I think you’re the mayor,” I answered, “and you know everyone there is to know.”

  “I’m not the mayor for the reason you think,” he said.

  I hadn’t given much thought to Stanley’s position as mayor; I’d just assumed he wanted to be in politics.

  “The only reason I ran for mayor is so I could have health insurance,” he said, “and now that I have it, I can honestly say I can’t imagine why anyone would want this job for any other reason.”

  “Are you sick?” I asked.

  “No, but it’s part of being sick.”

  “What’s part of being sick? You just said you weren’t sick.”

  “I’m not, but I ran for mayor just in case. You know I have a business as a computer consultant, right?” he said.

  I nodded.

  “As a self-employed person, I never bothered to buy health insurance. I figured I was young and healthy, and statistically speaking I wouldn’t need it until my mid to late forties.” Shaking his head, his face reflected incredulity. “Mathematics can usually give us guidelines for our lives, but not this time.”

  Having been an English major, I had no idea what he was talking about but wisely kept my mouth shut.

  “A couple of years ago, I sprained my ankle. It was a really bad sprain and made me realize I couldn’t rely on any statistical formulas for this. I mean, what if I got hit by a bus? What if I fell into a ravine?”

  My mind frantically scrambled to remember if there were any local ravines. I drew a blank.

  Next I wondered if he was going to tell me he actually calculated the probability of any of that happening. No doubt about it, Stanley was a planner. Did he even realize there were days I left the house without a coat because I didn’t know there was a blizzard coming?

  “So I did what I had to do to get health insurance,” he said.

  “You ran for mayor instead of changing jobs?”

  “It was a kind of a job change, and I didn’t have to give up my business in computers.”

  “True,” I said, “but what if you’d lost?”

  “Don’t you remember that election?”

  I tried to think back to when Stanley was elected two years ago. I was usually scrupulous about voting, but for some reason I drew a blank. “How come I don’t remember?” I asked.

  “Because I ran unopposed.”

  That’s when it all came back to me. The former mayor, Tony Vienzo, had retired that year. He was well into his eighties and had been mayor for as long as I could remember. The problem for a little while was that nobody wanted to step up and take on the job. Tony had actually tried to retire in the election four years prior to that, but everyone in our small town was busy then, too. That year Stanley was hailed as a hero for running, and would have won even if his was the only vote. Even though he was the only person running for mayor, I think people truly liked him and still do. Stanley comes across as genuine and sincere, despite Charlie’s warnings and dire predictions.

  “Why can’t you help me?” I tried to keep the whine out of my voice, but I don’t think I succeeded.

  “Because my role as the mayor has to take precedence. I have a responsibility to the people of this town, and I need to make sure that if a murder took place, justice is served in the most expedie
nt way possible.”

  My eyebrows raised at that statement, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “I’m sorry, Ava, but I don’t see you launching an investigation into what happened tonight as turning into something expedient.” At least he had the decency to look sheepish about it, even if his words cut straight through me.

  “I understand, you have to work within the law on this one,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. I appreciate you meeting me here, though, and making sure I’m okay.”

  “It’s not like I live that far from you,” he said. Stanley lived on Cedar Street, within walking distance of my house. If I stepped out of my front door onto Elm Street and turned left, Cedar Street was immediately on my left. His house was the second one on the left. It would probably take about two minutes to walk from my house to his, maybe four if it was snowing hard.

  Not that I walked by his house all the time or anything. Maybe once. Okay, maybe three or four times. Crap, am I turning into a girl stalker? Of course not. My brain must be muddled after seeing what I saw.

  I could tell Stanley was getting ready to leave. Panic flooded through me. Should I hug him? Kiss him? Would he get the wrong impression if I did?

  He took a step toward me, and I froze. I hated this, the feeling that I was a gawky teenager again.

  Needing to take control of the situation, I stepped forward and put my arms around him for a hug. We did that awkward pat on the back thing and stepped apart.

  I wasn’t ready for anything more at the moment. My head was swimming from the night’s events. I wasn’t used to finding dead bodies and being treated poorly by the police.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Stanley said.

  “Tomorrow or today?” I asked, glancing at the stove clock that read two a.m.

  He smiled. “Today.”

  After Stanley left I tried to go right to sleep, but I kept replaying the night’s events in my mind.

  I tossed and turned, falling into an uncomfortable dream-filled state. Dead, bloated faces of not just Ethel but other people I know drifted by. They were all trying to tell me something, but the words that came out of their mouths slid into a vacuum of sound, distorted and unintelligible. I ran, getting nowhere, believing I could save at least one of them but not saving anyone.

  The bodies kept piling up in front of me, making a pounding noise as they landed one on top of the next.

  I struggled to pull myself out of this place, fighting my growing panic. The pounding of bodies grew louder.

  I sat up in bed with a gasp, fully awake, my whole body trembling.

  Whispered words shattered like broken glass, dissolving the stillness of my bedroom. I looked around my room, trying to place the source of the voices.

  I could no longer hear any voices, but the pounding continued.

  Someone was at my door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Ava Marie, let me in!”

  Pound, slam.

  Lord almighty, the sky was still smudged with gray, and my sister-in-law was going to break down the door.

  It took all my remaining strength to unlock and pull the door open. My head was throbbing, and everything looked a little fuzzy around the edges. I had the classic symptoms of a hangover, but I hadn’t had a drink last night.

  Maybe I should have.

  I didn’t say a word, just turned and headed into the kitchen. This was not a time for talking, this was a time for coffee.

  Strong coffee.

  Janine’s voice chattered as I took two mugs out of the cabinet. I could practically hear each drip as the coffee brewed.

  “Omigawd, I cannot believe what happened last night.”

  I loved Janine like she was my own sister, but sometimes her voice cut like a buzz saw. This morning was one of those times. At the sound of the blessed beep that told me the coffee was ready, I poured it into the waiting cups.

  “Do you have any creamer?” Janine already had the refrigerator door open, and before I could answer she pulled out the plastic container of peppermint mocha creamer. Without a word, she poured some into my coffee before flavoring hers. I wrapped my hands around the mug and took a sip, picturing the caffeine flowing through my body and enjoying the warmth of the cup.

  “No offense, but you don’t look so good,” Janine said.

  “It’s sort of early,” I croaked.

  “Sorry, I wanted to talk to you before the baby got up. I didn’t want him to hear about this.”

  I wasn’t sure it really mattered if my nephew heard us talking, since I was pretty sure he never listened anyway; but to my credit, I knew better than to point out he was only six months old. Plus, I didn’t feel up to hearing the “he’s so advanced and can pick up on things” lecture this early in the morning.

  “Aren’t you working today?” Janine asked.

  I shook my head. “I worked last Saturday, so I get this one off.” I wondered what kind of business my brother was going to have today and whether people would stop in out of morbid curiosity.

  With us finding a dead body last night, it would probably be a busy day at Scentsations. Everyone in town would want to hear the details from Giuseppe and then talk about what it could all mean.

  “What do you know about the murder last night?” Janine demanded.

  I shook my head. “We don’t know for certain it was a murder.”

  “Of course it was murder, why the heck else would she be lying in a pool of blood in the basement?”

  While Janine’s logic was far from irrefutable, I decided to refrain from comment. Letting Janine rant and get things out of her system was sometimes easier than a debate. Her post-pregnancy hormones were in full force this morning, meaning there was plenty of ranting and tears. A sort of double-whammy thing, not fun for anyone, including Janine. She really did get herself worked up, and I had to do something to calm her down.

  Before I could open my mouth to speak, her words came rushing out. “I know what’s going to happen, and we have to do something.”

  I waited, taking a huge gulp of coffee. I need the caffeine to work now.

  “Whoever did this is going to come after us next,” Janine said. “I can’t let that happen. I have a child to protect.”

  Sometimes Janine’s reasoning was flawed, but pointing this out required delicacy. I didn’t want her to think I didn’t believe her, but I thought it was highly unlikely that she and her child were in any danger.

  “Lots of people were there last night,” I said. “I can’t imagine we’re all in danger.”

  “Of course not,” Janine agreed. “Just you and Giuseppe.”

  Okay, maybe Janine knew something I didn’t. Maybe it was still too early in the morning for me.

  “Why just us?”

  “Because you’re the one who found the body, and my husband is the reason you were there.”

  In my head I knew she was overreacting, but Janine’s ominous words were contagious. I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d seen something that might put us at risk.

  “I’m sure the police are doing everything they can to figure this out,” I said.

  “No, it’s up to you to help the police.”

  I knew I was making a scrunchie face at that point, but I was confused. What was I going to do to help the police that I hadn’t done last night? Anyway, I was fairly certain that Detective You’ll-Never-Make-It-In-This-Business didn’t want to see me poking around his case.

  Reading my mind, Janine said, “They don’t know what they’re doing. You’re smart and analytical, and you can figure this out and save us from the madman who’s killing people.” Realizing what she’d just said, Janine amended her statement. “Killed a person.”

  “Right, one person,” I argued. “How can we be sure it wasn’t an accident? If it was, I’m sure the new guy will have a blast figuring it out.” I took a swallow of coffee and almost choked. I think I told my brother last night that I would help him. He must not have talked to Janine about this.


  “You mean Oliver?”

  “Yes, I mean Detective Rialto,” I snapped. “How do you know him?”

  “He stopped by the house last night with a few more questions.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should be upset that he’d disturbed my family, pissed at him for putting these ideas in Janine’s head, or happy he was doing his job. Obviously she never would have imagined she was in any danger if the good detective hadn’t hinted as much.

  “Did he bother you?” I asked. “You don’t have to let him in, you know.”

  Janine shook her head. “No, he was fine. I mean, the situation sort of bothered me, but after a while I started noticing how hunky he is.”

  “Hunky?” What the heck is she talking about? He has a nice butt, that’s about it.

  “I might be married, but it doesn’t mean I can’t look, right? Don’t you think he’s got that macho, handsome thing going on?”

  I shook my head. “No, I think he’s a jerk.”

  Janine nodded. “This is going to be one of those kinds of stories.”

  Sometimes I had trouble figuring out what she was talking about. “What are you talking about?”

  “I can see the whole thing now, how you’re denying your attraction to him, but eventually you’ll start a relationship with Oliver, and you’ll marry him and become wife to a detective.”

  Janine’s sigh was a direct contrast to my once again choking on coffee. “I don’t see it, Janine. He doesn’t really strike me as good looking, and he’s probably married.” A vision of his newly bare left hand floated through my mind.

  Janine shook her head. “Widowed.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because he has a tragic air about him.”

  I waited for a moment, almost afraid to answer her. “That’s it? A tragic air?”

  “And he’s too thin.”

  I sighed. A tragic air and too thin could mean he was a street person, a homeless bum that just couldn’t pull himself together. Or it could mean he gives all his money away to worthy charities and doesn’t have enough to subsist on. Or he could have a great metabolism.