A Corpse in the Soup (22 page)

“It may not mean much to you, but we don’t believe he did it. We’re sort of helping Caesar out by talking to people who might have seen something that would help him. I live in Alaska and my sister, Godiva, writes an advice column. Maybe you’ve read it...
Ask G.O.D
.”

The young man’s face transformed, like David Spade in a
Saturday Night Live
skit. “That’s why you looked familiar. You’re G.O.D.? I love your column. Never miss it.” He seized Godiva’s hand and pumped it with great enthusiasm. “I’m sorry I was so rude before. It’s just that you can’t be too careful.” He settled the two women onto his shabby couch. “Now then, what can I tell you? Probably not much, I’m afraid.”

Godiva steepled her fingers. “We wanted to find out what you could remember about the day Wellington was killed. Candy told us you were still there when she left, so you’re probably the last person to see him...before...”

“Well, yeah, maybe I was the last one to see him before he wound up in the soup...that is, except for whoever killed him,” he was quick to add.

Chris sat opposite them in a crooked rocking chair. “Truthfully, if you ask me, he got what he deserved. That guy was out of control.”

“Well, I’m sure a lot of people would agree with you there, Chris. Were you afraid of him? Candy said you had...um...retreated into his office because he was so wild and abusive.” Godiva paused waiting for Chris to fill the silence.

“Wild and abusive. That was Biff, all right. How about adding friggin’ crazy? Of course I was afraid of him, just about everyone was...except maybe Chef Romano. There were some old cleaning people there and he looked like he was about to kill them. Jeezuz, a poor old geezer and a little old lady just paralyzed with fear. Candy stepped in to protect them and I thought he was going to smack her.”

“So, you bravely ran behind the door?”

“Look, I was afraid for Candy but I’ll tell you, she’s a lot braver than me. Think about it. I’m not exactly Jackie Chan, you know. I really don’t think I could have helped her. He would have beaten me to a pulp.”

Goldie nodded. “Okay. So there you were. Did you see Caesar come in, too?”

“See him? No. Hear him? You bet. You could have heard him on the corner of Hollywood and Vine. He was bellowing like a wounded bull...not that I blame him. I mean, Wellington was out for his hide.”

“Were there any out-and-out threats?”

“Well, I did hear Chef Romano threaten to kill him, but it wasn’t in that kind of voice that makes you think he would really do it. More like a figure of speech. You know how it sounds when someone’s just spouting off? Not like the person’s really going to commit first degree murder.”

Godiva tapped her lips. “Yeah, I know what you mean, I see things like that every day in my mail. Some of the letters I read really worry me, like the person might actually do something drastic...but most of them, well, they’re just venting. I know they’ll feel better after they’ve had their say. But then, you never know...”

“Right, that’s what I mean. Chef Romano was, like, venting his anger. I’ll bet once he slammed that door behind him he felt a lot better.”

Goldie jumped back in. “Okay, so there you were in Biff’s office. Romano left in a huff, Candy was close to tears and escaped as soon as possible, which leaves you. Did you see anything after that? Anything at all?”

“If you mean did I see anyone else come in? Or, did I see Wellington get stabbed? Or, did I do it myself? The answer to all three is no. I really didn’t stick around. Biff went over to the kitchen set and as soon as he turned his back to me and started chopping vegetables, I slipped out.”

They chatted a while longer, the sisters thanked him for being so helpful, asked if it would be all right if they called him again and then said good night.

“Not enough backbone to kill anyone,” Godiva said, catching her Feragamo heel on a bare spot in the hall carpet.

“’Fraid so, Sis. Chrissy Crossy is definitely a wussie, Candy can put her fears to rest.”

When Goldie and Godiva pulled up in front of the house, Flossie and Sterling were waiting for them, grinning like a couple of Cheshire cats.

Flossie was waving a crumpled sheet of paper. “Where have you girls been? You won’t believe what your uncle and I found! We’ve really got the goods. That’s how they say it on TV, isn’t it?” She looked over to Sterling for agreement.

Godiva marched past them. “Back off, you two old farts. We’ve had a long day. It’s almost dark out here, can we at least go inside and get comfortable while you unveil your great discovery?”

“
Oy vey
! Listen to them, Sterling. Now I ask you, is that respect? Back in my day, who would dream of talking to their mother like that? You see what the world’s come to?”

Goldie wrapped Flossie in a hug. “I’m sorry, Mom, but it really would be better to go in. I’m sure that it
is
an important paper.”

Sterling said, “Important! You bet it’s important and you girls will eat this up. Ya see, sometimes even
worthless old farts
come up with some good stuff. This one is a doozy.”

Flossie smoothed the paper out on the kitchen table. Sterling, always the showman, waved his arms in a grand flourish, sang out a booming “ta-da” and said, “I had the wastebasket in my hand when that buffoon came blasting into the office. Scared the bejesus out of me. Flossie, too. Both of us knew we had to get the hell out of there, but how could we do it gracefully? He was ranting and raving and that Candy Schmandy girl was flitting around like a demented butterfly trying to protect us.”

“So,” Flossie broke in, “I could hardly move, but Sterling just reached over, grabbed the plastic bag out of the waste basket and kind of nudged me along. He pushed the vacuum, I pulled the mop and pail and we ran through the door to the hall. That’s when Caesar showed up.
Oy vey
, my heart was clopping. We didn’t look back. We just dumped all of the stuff in the trunk of the Caddy and peeled rubber, like a couple of hot-rodders.”

The sisters looked at them expectantly.

“Anyway, today I was cleaning that stuff out of the trunk and there was the plastic trash bag. We’d forgotten all about it.”

“Yeah, and it’s a good thing I’m such a busybody because your Uncle would have just tossed it.”

Sterling nodded and smiled. “She’s right there. ‘Sterling,’ she says, ‘let’s just have a little look at the late Mr. Wellington’s trash.’”

“...and this is what we found.” Flossie said, tapping the crumpled paper with her fingertip and adjusting her glasses so she could read the neatly typed letter out loud.

Greetings Daddy,

Congratulations on your great success in Hollywood. Quite a leap from fry cook to famous chef. I’ll bet you never thought you would hear from me, but we do have a score to settle.

You owe me, big time. Did you know that Mom died the year after you almost beat her to death? She never got better. She just seemed to give up. Want to know how I spent my childhood, thanks to you? Passed around by relatives who didn’t want me and finally sloughed off to crummy foster homes that were even worse. It was a real blast. Meanwhile, Mister Big Shot Chef, you lived the good life and never gave us a second thought.

What goes round comes round, Daddy Dear, and now it’s your turn. Watch your back. I’m checking your every move. Start thinking about how you can make it up to me because we will meet soon...maybe when you least expect it.

Get ready! It’s payback time!

—Your loving son Wesley

They looked at each other letting the words sink in. “Wow! Wesley Wellington. Mom, I can’t believe you found this. Wait till we show the cops.” Goldie snatched the paper from her mother.

Godiva scratched her head while mumbling, “ Sooo...the long lost son was close enough to be watching the father he hated. If we give this to Lieutenant Adams it will prove there’s another suspect with an even better motive than Caesar. That’s the good news. The bad news is,” and here she fixed her gaze squarely on Flossie and Sterling, “if we turn over this evidence, we have to tell the police how we got it.”

CHAPTER 40

Flossie gestured with both palms outstretched, “
Tottelahs
, this is a
mitzvah
for Caesar. Tomorrow he gets out of the pokey, but it’s just on bail, he’s not out of the woods yet. If you give this note to the police, they’ll forget about Caesar and go looking for Wesley. Listen to your mother. What could they charge us old cockers with, anyway? Illegal dusting and sweeping?”

“I know you’re right, Mom, but I just have this feeling that the police won’t believe this note is even real. After all, why did we take several days to turn it over if we had it all along? Maybe we just invented it to help Caesar...I’m sure that’s what Lieutenant Adams would say.”

“If we hand over the note in the morning,” Goldie mused, “then we sort of give up our chance to do our own investigating. How do we know they won’t just blow it off? I say we call Angel and have her dredge up the last place Wesley can be traced to. I mean,” she tapped the letter, “who would have a better reason to kill Wellington than his son? ‘
watch your back’
,
‘it’s payback time’
...it looks like the kid was stalking him.”

Sterling paced back and forth, stopping in front of Godiva. “All the more reason to give this hot potato to the police.” He bent down and put both hands on her shoulders, trying to convey a bit of his wisdom. “This guy could be very dangerous, Godiva, so be a good girl. After all, you don’t want him messing up one of your beautiful dresses with blood stains, do you?”

Godiva shook her head. “I’m not quite ready to let go of this note yet, Uncle Sterling. One thing I want to find out is whether Chris opened Wellington’s mail as part of his job. If he did, I’m sure he would remember this letter. I know I would. And so would all of you.”

“But, if that’s the case why didn’t he say anything about it?” asked Goldie.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s an old note.”

“Then why would it turn up right before Wellington was killed?”

“Okay, Sis, that’s definitely a point. In fact, here’s how I see it. What if we get hold of Angel first thing in the morning...”

“Your first thing or my first thing? You know very well that could be the difference between seven thirty and, say, ten thirty. Three precious hours. Tell you what, Sis, I’ll take care of calling Angel
first thing
. What else?”

“Well, let’s see. If we’re lucky, Angel will come up with an address or a contact that may lead us to him. In that case it’s a no-brainer...we track it down. Of course, if she’s able to find something, Lieutenant Adams’ people may have found it, too.” Godiva wagged her finger. “Look, if the search for Wesley looks like a dead end, my bet is the cops will drop it.”

Flossie opened her hands, palms up. “For all we know he could live in some foreign country.”

Godiva followed the thought. “Hell, he could be a paranoid wacko living in some remote cabin in Idaho.”

Sterling nodded. “Or...he could be right under our very noses, cruising the Sunset Strip in a lacy frock and fishnet stockings.”

Goldie sighed. “But if he doesn’t have an address with a proper zip code, as far as the police are concerned he’s nobody.” She set her mouth in a determined line. “Well, we have the note and they don’t. The note proves that he’s still around. The only question is where?”

“Of course if they had it,” Flossie pointed her finger at her twin daughters, “then they would know for sure that he was close enough to be watching his
farshtunckener
father, too.”

“Well I don’t know about you women.” Sterling sighed as he inched toward the back door. “But it’s close to my bedtime.”

Flossie and Sterling dragged their tired bodies to their respective nests as Goldie and Godiva made plans for the next day. If Wesley could be found, they would find him.

By the time Godiva stumbled down to breakfast the next morning Goldie was totally engrossed in revising their list. She had already called Red in Alaska, who bawled her out for being a hopeless busybody. She assured him that everything was going fine and not to worry about her and Chili.

After that she had placed her call to Angel, but had to leave a message. Not ready to work on the list, she ventured into “mission central” and sorted through several piles of mail, placing the ones with potential on the kitchen table for Godiva. Then, she finally settled down to the business at hand, looking up only when Guadalupe appeared with a cup of coffee and grapefruit for Godiva and offered to freshen her mug of tea as well.

Godiva fanned though the letters and stopped at one, waving it at her sister. “You’re really getting the knack, Sis. This one is what I needed to wake me up.”

Dear G.O.D.,

This is for the lady whose husband wore frilly lingerie. My husband’s Grandpa Orville was a crossdresser, too. Everyone in town knew it, but they all loved the old guy so much no one said a word.

When Mom and Dad flew in from Ohio for our engagement celebration, they thought it was a costume party when Grandpa Orville greeted them at the door in his taffeta party dress! Poor Grandpa’s gone now, but tell that lady to stand by her man. So what if he uses the ladies dressing room?

—Misty in Missoula

“Isn’t that sweet? I think I’ll print it. How do you manage to get so much done so early in the morning?” She yawned. “I slept like the dead and I’m still a little groggy. That’s what happens when I turn off the ringer on my phone. Did Caesar call?”

“Yeah. He called about eight and said not to wake you. You can’t even imagine how happy he is to be out of jail. Thank goodness Oscar Goldensheim was able to convince the judge that he posed no risk of flight. But he said the bail would be enough to buy a small island in the Mediterranean.”

“I don’t doubt that. But at least he’s out. For now.” Godiva surveyed her manicure, and pushed back a cuticle with the tip of her teaspoon.

“Hopefully we can help keep him out.” Goldie shook her head. “His release was anything but low profile. I caught it on the
Early News
, but don’t worry, you’ll get to see it. I’m sure it will repeat all day. He and Oscar walked out of the
Bastille
this morning and they were swamped by a horde of foodies carrying signs like
Clear Caesar
and
Release Romano.
The police had to hold them back. This certainly hasn’t cost him any fans.” She took a sip of her tea. “By the way, he asked Chili to meet him over at the studio. The man’s a workaholic. Said he couldn’t wait to start producing the next show.”