Scales of Justice Read online

  I got up out of my chair and looked out of the dining room/office into the foyer, which had windows overlooking Long Island Sound. It was another beautiful day, and the beach was calling me. But I had to get some things taken care of first.

  “We were discussing my agenda, right? Item number two, get the word out that I’m looking for more clients. I hate to say it, but Winthrop being deceased is going to be good for my business. But don’t tell anybody I said that, Mr. Woogs! I’m already a suspect in that case.”

  Woogie looked up at me with a thoughtful expression. He seemed concerned about the potential murder charge. “Don’t worry about it, buddy.” I held up a third finger. “Okay, number three. I have to find time to do some rehearsing today for my voice lesson. With all the excitement around here, I’ve been neglecting my warm-ups. I need to get back to that. Madame Sofia is not going to be pleased with me if I’m not prepared next week.”

  I sat back down and started doing an online search about cases involving products or services that were contracted for and didn’t perform as promised. There was a lot of material, but I found nothing that had to do with an item such as a toilet that was used for its intended purpose and nevertheless resulted in a favorable decision for the owner or renter. And for that matter, Trixie was probably not a party to the contract. I was quite sure that Big Daddy Johnson was the one who had paid for the Krystal Kleen porta-potty. As far as I could see, she had no case, which was just fine with me. It was not a matter I was eager to pursue.

  I looked up as I heard the doorbell chime. Mr. W didn’t bark, which surprised me. It must be someone he knew and liked. He did, however, race to the door.

  I opened it to see Liz Cantwell standing on my front porch, her white hair in its usual bun but looking messy and windblown. She must have come via the beach. In her arms was a small plant. I broke into a smile. “Liz. How nice to see you. Come on in.”

  She bent down to pet Mr. Woogles and then gave me a quick hug. “I just wanted to stop by and bring you some of my mint. It’s great for tea.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll make some right now.”

  “Are you sure I’m not interrupting?”

  I laughed. “I’m sure you are interrupting. And I appreciate it. I’m working on a rather unappealing case that I’m happy to be distracted from.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you how your business is coming along.”

  We walked into the kitchen, and I put on the water to boil, then pulled out a couple of mugs and the honey. “I’m not destitute. But I could use more income to cover all the costs of the new house and the furniture I still need to find to fill these rooms.”

  “Well, now that Roger Winthrop will not be supplying any competition...”

  I shook my head. “Wasn’t that terrible, the way he died? They’re still looking into whether or not it might have been intentional.” I sat down across from Liz at the little table. “And somehow I ended up on the list of suspects.”

  She gave a short laugh. “You too?”

  “Oh my. Has Sheriff Bateman talked to you about it?”

  “Not formally. Not yet. But he’s asked me to come down to the station to discuss, quote, my interactions with Attorney Winthrop, unquote.” She gave a rueful smile, and as she shook her head, more wild hair came out of her bun. “It was no secret that he owns... owned... my little house, and was trying to evict me.”

  “Mom mentioned that he was trying to evict you. Why?”

  “These houses close to the water, even the tiny little one on a small plot of land like the one I rent, are getting more and more valuable. I’m sure he wanted to sell it at a significant profit so somebody could knock it down and rebuild much bigger. Or maybe he was going to build a McMansion himself and sell it.”

  Mr. Woogles came over to Liz and sat on the floor beside her, leaning against her knee. “And you didn’t want to leave,” I said.

  “Well, I was trying to resist, hoping that he’d change his mind. I knew he’d get me out sooner or later, when my lease was up. By delaying, I figured I could find something else suitable before then. Connecticut has laws that protect renters, and you can’t just kick someone out for no reason if they’ve paid their rent on time.” Liz stopped and laughed. “Sorry! I forgot you’re a lawyer.”

  I smiled. “No worries. I don’t know all the statutes by heart, especially since I haven’t worked in landlord-tenant law. I would have had to look that up.”

  “Winthrop was doing his best to make the house more and more uncomfortable for me. You know, not fixing things in the house that weren’t working—for quite a long time. Nasty man.”

  I nodded. “He was nasty. And I know you’re right about these houses on the beach. The land is getting more valuable all the time.” I pointed my finger at her and wagged it mockingly. “But you’re no help, Liz! I’m trying to find out who might have actually killed Winthrop. It’s no good if you have a motive and I know you didn’t do it.”

  She shook her head. “Can’t help you there.”

  The teakettle started to whistle, and I got up to take it off the burner. “I was very lucky to get this house at such a bargain. It was definitely to my benefit that everybody thought it was haunted.”

  Liz laughed. “Have you been having any difficulty in that department lately?”

  I smiled. “With my supposed ghost, you mean? The spirit of your nine-times great-aunt?”

  Mr. W barked, and both of us turned to look at him. I shook my head. “Not really. I think that was resolved when Mr. Woogles and I found what I think she was looking for all these years. Though we do hear the occasional funny noise from upstairs late at night.”

  Liz looked up toward the ceiling. “If only there really were a ghost in here who could communicate in some way. Maybe she has a channel to Winthrop and can find out from him what really happened on that balcony.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts... or witches.”

  “I definitely don’t believe in witches. At least not any kind of witches that need to be put to death, like my poor aunt Mary Cantwell was. As for ghosts... I believe that our spirits may have some agency after death. Possibly.”

  “Well, even if Mary Cantwell could communicate with us, I’m not sure that Roger Winthrop knew what happened any more than we do. As far as he probably knew, the railing on the balcony gave way, and down he went.”

  At that moment, Mr. Woogles let out a long howl, and Liz and I both jumped and then started laughing. I looked down at him and thought again of how convenient it would be if he could talk.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Okay, Woogie. We need to go back. I have to do some singing exercises.”

  Mr. Woogles gave his usual full body shake, dusting me with sand. We left the beach as the afternoon sun finally got a little less intense. We walked up the steps to the top of the bluff, and I looked across the street to my house.

  I was surprised to see a shiny black Jaguar in front of the property beside me. I’d seen no activity since Winthrop had fallen, and there was yellow caution tape all around the grounds. But now there was somebody at the house.

  Just as I stepped across Waterview Boulevard, I spotted someone walking off the property. That had to be the doctor from New York who owned it. Time for me to spring into action as the clever investigator I was.

  I think Woogie was on my wavelength, because he headed for the guy, not barking, but stepping along in a friendly manner, looking like a beagle who just wanted to say hello.

  And who could resist my cute pup? Not him. The man leaned down to pat Mr. W and then stood up to look at me. I was momentarily taken aback by just how handsome he was, despite the fact that I’d seen him give CPR to Winthrop on that dreadful day. With his black hair and dark eyes, the doctor looked like something out of a movie. The only slight imperfection was a shadow of stubble across his jaw, which wasn’t really an imperfection at all.

  The word going around town was that this guy was a rich dermatologist from
Manhattan. Even though the town council had agreed to all the requisite permits to build the spa here, there was still a lot of muttering by the locals. There was always some resistance from the Misty traditionalists when one of the original houses on the water got updated and enlarged, which happened on a regular basis. And it certainly didn’t help matters that the stranger in question had a foreign-sounding name. His last name was Italian, apparently. As if Italians were something new and exotic for Misty.

  The man gave me a brilliant smile and reached out his hand. “Hello. You must be my next-door lawyer. I’m Angelo D’Amore. Glad to meet you.”

  His hand was strong, but his grip was gentle. “Yes, of course. I’m Pepper Sullivan.” I pointed to my pup, who was doing his best to ingratiate himself to the new neighbor. “And this is Mr. Woogles.”

  He leaned down to give Woogie an affectionate rub, which was gratefully received, and then gestured back toward the house. “As you can see, they’ve halted construction—temporarily, I hope—on my property. No doubt you’ve heard about the unfortunate incident that took place last week.”

  “Yes. I was right next door when I heard the screams. A shocking tragedy.” I was dying to ask him what he thought about Winthrop’s death, but it was pretty clear that he would have to be the chief suspect. Winthrop had been trying to deliver documents meant to halt work on the spa, since Big Daddy Johnson didn’t want it to proceed. So the doctor would have had every incentive to avoid the guy. But would he kill him?

  Gazing into his dark eyes, I couldn’t believe it. And speaking of gazing into his dark eyes, I had probably done enough of that. I also noticed that I had a big smile on my face. I rearranged my mouth into a more serious line. “Do you have any idea how long they’ll have you shut down?”

  “Unfortunately, it could be for quite a while. They have every right to carefully investigate the situation, of course, and I’ve made it clear that I’ll cooperate fully. But I’m on a deadline myself. We have a grand opening scheduled for the fall, and we’ve already put out some publicity to that end. So I certainly hope we’ll be able to open in time for the projected deadline.”

  My interest in talking to this man was fueled by more than just the need to find out who had killed Roger Winthrop, and it was growing by the minute. “I understand that you’re a doctor?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’m a dermatologist. They call me Dr. D.” He gave me that smile again.

  I had to pull myself together. Here was a medical professional who owned the house beside mine—and would soon be running a business here—and I ought to be presenting myself as the serious professional I was. “So happy to meet you,” I said.

  “As am I,” he said. He had no accent at all, so he must have grown up in this country, but there was still something about him that seemed very old-world European. He gestured toward his house. “I’d love to invite you in for coffee, but as you can see...”

  “I understand. I guess even you can’t go in there.”

  “Not really. And there’s no furniture to sit on, in any case.”

  “Well, I have coffee and tea over at my house. It’s a bit humble... because I don’t have much, um, furniture myself yet...” I found myself stumbling over my words and feeling sheepish. “I just moved here after living in a tiny Manhattan studio.”

  “Another city dweller. I know all about New York living.” He nodded toward my house. “I appreciate the offer, but I have to be getting back to the city. I’m sure you know how the traffic can be, particularly at this time of day.” He reached out his hand and shook mine. “It was very nice meeting you, Pepper. I’d love to take you up on that offer of a cup of coffee another time, neighbor.”

  It was all I could do not to smile too widely as he headed back to his shiny Jaguar, and I retreated between the bushes to my own home before he could see it. My face was pink, I was sure, judging by the heat in my cheeks.

  I unlocked the door, went into the kitchen, and gave Mr. Woogles his dinner. At that point, I tried to banish any thoughts of my handsome next-door neighbor from my head and get down to the business of practicing for tomorrow’s voice lesson.

  I started with some warm-up scales, and then I moved into singing one of the short Italian arias that Madame Sofia had assigned me. Most of these were familiar, because I’d taken voice lessons in college, but my passion had always been jazz, so I hadn’t liked them at the time. These days I found it fun to try for a more classical sound and extend my repertoire beyond jazz.

  I was in the middle of belting out “All of Me” when the doorbell rang.

  Woogie padded from the kitchen to the living room, giving me a significant look, and then headed toward the front door. He wasn’t barking, so it had to be someone familiar.

  I opened the door to see Bryce standing there, looking upset. He leaned in to hug me with one arm, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. The other hand was holding what looked like a rolled-up poster.

  “Hello, darling,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Come on in, Bryce. This is an unexpected pleasure.”

  “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I wanted you to see this. Someone put it up outside our shop window today—without asking our permission. Which, of course, we would have withheld.”

  He unrolled the large poster that he’d been holding under his arm. I stepped back to be able to read the whole thing.

  DO YOU WANT SOT’S IN ARDEN?

  YES—SOT’S—THAT’S SPA-ON-THE-SOUND.

  DO YOU WANT HEAVY TRAFFIC IN OUR TOWN?

  DRUG ABUSER’S?

  SEXUAL MASSAGE’S AND PROSTITUTION?

  THIS IS WHAT’S COMING TO MISTY IN THE FORM OF A

  FOREIGN-OWNED, SO-CALLED “SPA”!

  COME TO THE ZONING COMMISSION MEETING ON

  FRIDAY, JULY 22, AT 7:00 P.M.

  IN THE MISTY TOWN HALL, TO STAND UP FOR

  OUR RIGHTS AS AMERICANS!

  There will be cookies.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mr. Woogles started barking as I stood there gazing at the poster. Absentmindedly, I put my hand down on his silky head to comfort him. Even I knew Mr. W couldn’t read. He was probably just sensing that I was upset.

  I turned to Bryce. “Did this just show up today?”

  “I’m pretty sure. I think I would have noticed anyone who got close enough to our front window to put it up, but I didn’t. Which makes me think that maybe they did it late at night or very early in the morning.”

  I shook my head. “These people aren’t serious. I mean, of course the spa is not going to allow or condone prostitution. That’s ridiculous.”

  Bryce nodded. “The owner is a physician from Manhattan, right? I can’t imagine somebody with a medical practice would knowingly get into anything that could threaten his livelihood.”

  I took the poster, and he followed me into the living room. I spread it out on the coffee table, as though reading the words again would change them. “I met the guy today. Dr. Angelo D’Amore. He says his patients call him Dr. D.”

  Bryce gave a little smirk. “Did you get the impression that he would run a house of ill repute?”

  I shook my head and laughed. “I got the impression that he was a pretty smooth operator. Super handsome and really well dressed. Drives a nice car.” I sat down and gestured to the other side of the sofa for Bryce. Woogie came over and sat on the floor beside my feet. “It seems pretty clear he doesn’t need to add to his income by doing anything illegal.”

  Bryce nodded. “You have any idea who might be behind this meeting?”

  I shook my head. “I could think of some possibilities.” There was a ringing sound from the kitchen that made me jump. It took me a minute to realize that it was the landline telephone I’d recently installed at the insistence of my mother. The only calls I had gotten since moving in were from telemarketers trying to sell me better electric rates, a security system, or time-share properties that I could hear all about on a free weekend trip with my s
pouse. When I told them I didn’t have a spouse, they usually hung up.

  “Excuse me for a minute, Bryce. I just want to check on who that might be.”

  He nodded, and I left the room for the kitchen, Mr. W staying behind to keep Bryce company. I picked up the phone and said hello.

  “Hello, Pepper. It’s Angelo.”

  It took me a minute to place the name.

  “Dr. D?” he said. “Your next-door neighbor?”

  I shook my head as though he could see me. I had to up my game or this guy was going to think I was an idiot. “Of course. I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect a call from you. The truth is, no one but telemarketers and my mother have ever contacted me on this phone. I’m curious about how the number is even public.”

  He sounded a little chagrined. “Not through any nefarious means, I assure you. When I bought the house next door, someone was kind enough to give me access to the Misty neighborhood website. They keep a secure list of home phone numbers there for the residents.”

  “That’s right. I remember that when I was a kid they had a book.”

  He laughed. “They still have a book. They gave me that too.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “In any case, I apologize for interrupting your evening. I was just made aware that there’s a group of residents in Misty who are planning to meet to discuss my spa. Apparently there’s a lot of local resistance.”

  “Actually, a friend just came by to show me the poster. I was a little bit stunned to see it. That’s quite an accusation they’re making.”