Smoked (The Alex Harris Mystery Series) Page 3

  Ellery reached for another tissue, wiped a tear from her cheek and looked at me. “They found a lot. I mean a lot of poison ivy in the fire under the burned leaves.”

  “I thought your mother was allergic to poison ivy. Isn’t that what you told me last night?”

  “Exactly.” Ellery tossed a handful of M&M’s into her mouth.

  I reached for the jar and helped myself to quite a handful. If nothing else, I needed to get rid of them so I could fill up the jar with the good ones. “So the police think your dad…what…put the poison ivy under the leaves? But why? She didn’t touch them, did she? I don’t understand.”

  “The smoke. As the ivy burned the urushiol oil, I think I’m saying it right, got into her lungs. She went into shock. Then she died.”

  “Urushiol oil?” I asked.

  “It’s the stuff in the ivy that makes you itch if you touch it.”

  “But why do the police think it was murder? Couldn’t the ivy have been raked up with the leaves? Maybe it was an unfortunate accident,” I said thinking a certain police detective had a lot of explaining to do when he got home.

  “My mother raked the leaves herself. She would have never put poison ivy in that pile. My father goes out several times a year and gets rid of any plants he finds. Birds like to eat the fruit and then they drop seeds which germinate easily. It’s an ongoing problem but my father is diligent.”

  “What does your father do with all the plants he finds?” I realized my blunder and reached out to Ellery. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse your father of anything.”

  “No, no. It’s okay. That’s good. That’s what I want.”

  “You want me to accuse your father?”

  “I’ll get to that later. Now I need to tell you as much as I can. Do you have time?”

  By now it had to be after five. Not that I had anywhere to go. And if John had arrested Mr. Kravec, I had a feeling he wouldn’t be rushing home for dinner. I turned to Ellery.

  “Let me make us a proper cup of tea and I’m sure I have some snacks in our refrigerator. I’ll be right back.”

  I went to the kitchen and didn’t hear any sounds. Sam and Millie must have left a while ago and Marla left before three. I fixed two cups of tea using the kettle this time and pulled a package of Ritz crackers out of the cupboard. I had a couple packages of herb-encrusted goat cheese and some salami in the refrigerator, which I placed on a tray. I grabbed a handful of napkins and returned to my office.

  Ellery’s eyes lit up at the sight of the food and I handed her a knife for the cheese.

  “This is great,” she sighed. After she ate two cheese-laden crackers she settled back in her chair. “Okay. First I want to assure you I can pay. I have a great job. Did I tell you I’m a civil engineer? I work for a firm in Stamford. I live there too, in one of the high rise apartment buildings. So money’s not a problem. Plus, I’m an only child, so I’ve been spoiled. You know, birthdays and stuff, and I’m a good saver and investor.”

  Okay. The girl had a good job. I had no idea why she wanted to assure me of this fact, but as I got to eat crackers and salami while she talked, I figure, hey, I’ll listen.

  “My father comes from a big family. Nine children. Parents from the Ukraine. Loud. Lively bunch,” she said in her rapid-fire way. “My mother? Quiet family. One brother. Played violin. Kept to himself. You see. My parents were polar opposites. My father is charming and likes to stray. Many times. Can’t help himself. Mom was a literature professor. Boring, right?”

  I kept nodding, not sure what else to say. I reached for a couple slices of salami and another piece of cheese while Ellery continued.

  “So they got married. Loved each other. Really. But my dad just likes the ladies. Mom knew. Didn’t really care as long as he came home at night. Then he stopped coming home so much.”

  “What did your mother do then?” I asked.

  “She got her revenge the best way she knew how.”

  “She found someone too?” This was getting good. Geesh. I really needed to get out and see what my neighbors were up to.

  Ellery waved her hand. “No. Not mom’s style. No. She hit him where it hurt.”

  “She kicked his…private parts?”

  “My father’s a butcher.”

  “Yes, I know. A very good one.”

  “Right. Reputation is everything to him. He supplies meat for all the top restaurants, hotels, etc. So Mom decided to become vegan.”

  “Okay,” I said, not quite sure why this would be so upsetting to Mr. Kravec. Clearly he wasn’t charging his wife for any meat he brought home so how would this hurt his business or reputation.

  “At first it was just a slap in his face, you know, refusing to let him bring anything home from the shop. But he paid no attention to her. Made bacon in the morning. In front of her. She loves bacon. So then she started using her blog to attack the meat industry. The Vegan View. She became quite radical about it. Blogs on how meat is produced, blogs on the dangers of eating meat. And then references to a certain butcher shop without naming names. It was all out war between them.”

  “I had no idea. And I didn’t know your mother was a vegan.” I actually didn’t know a lot about veganism. Vegetarian, okay, but I think vegans took it one step further. A very big step.

  “My mother started this business, selling vegan products. And she writes a blog and posts recipes and stuff. She wasn’t exactly a vegan herself but she felt this was a growing trend with a lot of potential and also wanted to start incorporating a better diet into her own routine. But in the last month or so she became fanatical about it.”

  “So you think your father was upset enough about the blog that he killed her?”

  Ellery shook her head. “No. They loved each other. Really. They did. They would have left each other years ago if they didn’t. And this whole thing with being a vegan? Ha! My mom liked to start things and after a while, a year tops, she’d lose interest. She never gave away her leather shoes or belts or purses. She still kept all that stuff for when she was done playing vegan. She may have continued on with the site and blogs and product line, but her being a vegan and giving up bacon forever? No way. That would have ended soon enough, trust me. Listen,” Ellery leaned forward. “My mom told me all about the murder in your house. And she said you solved some other crimes as well. So I want to hire you.”

  “You want to hire me? For what? To help you sort through your mother’s things? To keep the blog up?” I didn’t know how I could help her, but if she wanted my help to pack up her mother’s belongings, or to find someone to take over the blog posts I was more than happy to do it.

  “No, silly. I want to hire you to prove my father didn’t kill my mother.”

  Chapter Eight

  I couldn’t believe someone just hired me as a private eye. How cool was that? Wait. What was I thinking? Number one, I didn’t have a PI license, didn’t have a clue how to go about getting one, and doubted I could obtain one in the next twenty-four hours. And number two, John. There was no way on God’s green earth he was going to let me investigate what looked like the murder of Maria Kravec.

  Which meant one thing. I wasn’t going to tell him. I would just leave for work each morning after dutifully planting a passionate kiss on his mouth and then I would surreptitiously work the case eliciting the help of my cohorts in crime, i.e., Millie and Sam. I couldn’t wait to tell them.

  I took a right at the next corner and mentally slapped myself; Mrs. Kravec was dead. Murdered. I shouldn’t be so giddy about her demise. And I wasn’t. I just wanted to solve the case and free Mr. Kravec. Maybe I should have T-shirts printed up à la Downton Abbey’s Free Mr. Bates T-shirts. Everyone in my family and my close friends were fans of the show and I was sure I could get them all to wear one of the shirts. Geesh.

  I pulled up in front of my grandmother’s house and locked the car. She was already standing on the front porch holding the door open. Once we were inside her tiny house, I gave her a big h
ug. I usually visit her several times a week but she had been gone the last five days down in Atlantic City gambling her little heart out. And from the text messages she sent me, she seemed to be on a winning streak. Yes, my grandmother knows how to send text messages. I had to ask Millie how to send one back.

  “I missed you,” Meme said. “Have you had dinner yet?”

  “Just some crackers and cheese at the office.”

  “I got manicotti I made last week. I’m heating it in the oven. Sit down and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  My grandmother, Meme to one and all, bustled around the kitchen filling the tea kettle and setting out plates. Meme is in her eighties, short and round, and most times has a little hat on her head. It was there now. It’s a throw-back to the time she went to church almost on a daily basis. Not so much anymore. She still likes to go, but she figures God knows where she lives and doesn’t mind whether she prays at home or in a church. As a kid, I loved going with her. Most of the time I was in a pair of shorts but Meme would bobby pin a tissue to my head, call it a hat, and off we’d go. No one wears hats to church anymore, but Meme’s from a time when all women did. I always got to light a candle and that was the big draw for me. Churches kind of freaked me out. Hard stone floors, dark, and statues staring at you from all angles. But I did like those candles. And playing bingo in the church basement on a Saturday night.

  “So you did pretty well at the casinos,” I said as I took a cup of tea from my grandmother’s hands.

  “Came home about eight thousand dollars richer.”

  I almost choked on my sip of tea. “Wow! I had no idea. Good for you, Meme.”

  My grandmother didn’t need the money. I knew for a fact a good portion of it would be going to the town food bank and the local animal shelter.

  “I got you something.” Meme put a package along with a card in front of me.

  I smiled at her and untied the bow and then pulled the wrapping paper from the thin box. “Oh, wow, thanks, Meme!” I planted a kiss on my grandmother’s cheek. Inside the box was a new cover for my iPad. It was a beautiful burgundy leather.

  “I got it at the hotel gift shop. They got some nice stuff there. Open the card.”

  I did as asked and then held the gift card to my heart doing a little dance in my chair. “I’ll have to stop over there this weekend.”

  “Your mom says you been spending a lot of time over at HomeGoods getting stuff for the house. Figure you could use a gift card.”

  Meme set the manicotti on the table and I dug in. “So what have you been up to?”

  “Meme, have you ever heard of someone named Maria Kravic? She writes a blog on veganism?”

  “Nope. Why do you ask?”

  “She died. Looks like murder. She was my neighbor. I’m the one who found her and called the ambulance.” Over dinner I told Meme the rest of the story.

  “So it looks like you’re back in business.” Meme’s eyes were gleaming. I had created a monster. My grandmother loved sleuthing as much as I did.

  “So what do you think?” I asked.

  Meme wiped a bit of sauce from her chin. “The daughter says they fought a lot and he cheated but that doesn’t mean anything. Me and my James argued all the time. He liked the ladies and I kicked him out over it, but we still loved each other till the day he died. So go with that.”

  “So you’re saying you think he really is innocent?”

  Meme shook her head. “All I’m saying is it’s possible to argue and cheat and still love your spouse so don’t just rely on that and write him off as guilty. And remember the daughter is always going to stick up for her father. It’s only natural. You gotta find out what this lady was all about. Turning the table on your husband and writing a blog about his profession and maybe smearing his name is a pretty devious thing to do.”

  “It is, I guess. I never thought of that.”

  “Maybe she was a real nice lady and maybe, well, maybe she went after other people too in that blog of hers. And I hate to say it, but you gotta check into the relationship between the mother and the daughter. The kid may have had it in for the mother.” Meme took another bite of her manicotti. “It’s a real inventive way to kill someone though.”

  It was at that. And it had to be premeditated. The ivy could have been underneath the pile of leaves for days, which meant I couldn’t rule Mr. Kravec out at all. He could have set the whole thing up before he left.

  I took my empty plate to the sink and washed it with a sponge and a bit of soap. Meme handed me her plate and I repeated the process and washed the baking pan as well. When I was finished I folded the dish towel and turned to Meme. “What do you say you grab your laptop and let’s find out exactly what Maria Kravec was up to.”

  Chapter Nine

  When I was a kid if you wanted information you had to go to the library or pull a volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica off the shelf and hunt for what you needed. It was kind of a pain but that was what we had and it worked.

  I’m not even sure if anyone still has encyclopedias anymore, and let’s face it, they took up an awful lot of room, cost a lot of money, and became outdated almost before they hit your shelf. I admit I didn’t take to modern technology as quickly as the next person. I still don’t have one of those 4G phones and for the life of me I just don’t understand Twitter. I tried it a couple of times. Sent out my thoughts into cyberspace. I even got one follower. For a day. And then he dropped me. So I don’t tweet anymore. The rejection is just too much to handle. But the one thing I do have is an iPad. It took me about five months of checking them out, going back and forth on whether I would ever use it or not before I decided to buy one. I figured if I didn’t like it, I could give it to my nephew Henry. But as it turns out, I love the darn thing. Like a book, I take it with me most days and I just happened to have it in my tote bag now.

  Meme and I got comfortable in her living room with fresh cups of tea and a plate of cookies. I spread out on the sofa while she plopped down in her comfy chair. I pulled the iPad out and took off the cheap cover I had purchased when I bought it. I replaced it with the one Meme had given me and it looked pretty spiffy if you ask me. Meme already had her laptop fired up and was checking to see if any of her friends were online playing bingo.

  “That Ellen Templeman is winning again,” Meme said with disgust. “I should of never told her about online bingo. Now every time I want to play, there she is. And she’s on a winning streak.” Meme snorted. I smiled at my grandmother. Meme hated losing.

  “You’ll just have to wait it out. Winning streaks don’t last forever. Now, go to the Vegan View.” I brought the site up on my iPad and looked around. It was quite an impressive site. Maria Kravec had it organized with various pages. There was the home page and the blog page. There was also a page with vegan recipes, and another called All About Vegan. Meme was busy reading something on her laptop but I wasn’t sure if it was the vegan site or if she was still checking up on Ellen Templeman.

  I read for a bit more and then reached for a cookie, which had butter in it. “I wonder how far Mrs. Kravec took this vegan stuff. You aren’t supposed to have any animal products. None. No butter. How can you eat without butter?” I found this a horrendous prospect. I love butter. And when I was in Europe on my honeymoon a few months ago and got the really good stuff, freshly made, well, let me tell you, you haven’t lived until you smear a piece of multi-grain, freshly baked dark bread with real butter made from the milk of cows over in Jersey, not to be confused with New Jersey, which would probably produce radioactive butter, but the island of Jersey.

  “Maybe I should become a vegan,” my grandmother said sincerely.

  I tried not to laugh. “Meme, you wouldn’t like it. You live on pasta and cheese and bread and butter. And pastries from Marzulla’s.”

  “I couldn’t have any of that?”

  “No. And if you want to be an ethical vegan, you can forget about leather shoes, leather car seats, belts, a whole bunch of stuff. And th
ere’s even a debate about honey.”

  “It doesn’t sound like living to me from some of these articles.” Meme shrugged.

  “You mean the blogs?”

  “Yeah, the stuff she writes. From the sound of it, she was a nut case.”

  “Sometime in the last couple of months she started sounding off on some vegan restaurants in the area and then she went after butchers, well, the industry in general. She makes several references to a butcher who shall remain nameless,” I said as I scrolled through the blogs.

  “The husband?”

  “Must be. Unless she had issues with another butcher, but if she didn’t eat meat what was she doing in the shops? She’s making vague references to unclean environments and questionable sources of the meats.”

  “Sounds like she really had it in for Mr. Kravec. Why bother staying together?” Meme shook her head in true puzzlement.

  I started to roll some thoughts around in my head. If Maria Kravec took it to the extreme, I could see all sorts of problems living with a butcher. It must have been hell. For both of them. But was it hellish enough for one of them to kill? Starting tomorrow, I planned to find out.

  Chapter Ten

  John didn’t arrest Mr. Kravec. The police questioned him for quite some time and ran down his alibi in Boston, but as I had come to the conclusion, so had the police. So what? The poison ivy could have been there for days. There just wasn’t any way to tell.

  “But you’re sure it is in fact murder?” I asked John the next morning over breakfast.

  “How could it not be? It was a big pile of leaves and there were a lot of them, but there was a ton of the ivy as well. How do you explain that?”

  I couldn’t, but I was hoping John would leave soon so I could go and ask Mr. Kravec. I’m sure he explained it all to the police but so far the police, including the cop sitting next to me, didn’t seem so keen on explaining it all to me. I intended to head on over to the Kravec home just as soon as I got rid of John, who for some unknown reason, seemed to be lingering over breakfast longer than usual or maybe I was just being impatient.