The services for Angie were lovely, reflecting the grace, kindness, and dignity of the person they were being conducted for. They were held at Eternal Rest, nestled in the foothills not too far from Sunhaven, where the meticulously manicured grounds led to a majestic building whose timeless architecture exuded a sense of tranquility and reverence.
I watched as people came in, dressed in their black suits and dresses, one or two women already crying.
I had no time for grieving, having already mourned Angie in the privacy of my home. For me, the services today were for vigilance, watching for anybody acting weird, shifty, uncomfortable, or unusual.
The main chapel featured high ceilings, graceful arches, and stained-glass windows that filtered sunlight into the room, giving it a soothing and inviting ambiance, and people seated themselves in the rows of benches that faced the front.
Angie hadn’t been particularly religious, so Harmony had picked out a nice, non-denominational service for the Funeral Director to begin with. “Mom wanted a small service with just a few people, and she said she definitely didn’t want people crying,” she whispered to me. “She told me she wanted everybody to say something funny about her.” She gestured at the large chapel that was filling up, in what was clearly going to be a large ceremony with people already in tears. She looked up towards the ceiling. “Sorry, Mom! But you are also the one who told me funerals are for the living, and a big funeral is what all of your friends wanted. I did tell them, though, to try to keep it humorous.”
I patted her arm comfortingly. “Thank you for not making me speak.” I had a million things I could have said about Angie, but they were my memories, and I didn’t feel like sharing right now.
Harmony took her seat in the front row with the girls sandwiched between her and Jeremy, her arm encircling Ashlyn’s shoulders as tears streamed down the little girl’s cheeks. Harper looked studiously forward, a grimace on her face, as she occasionally turned her head and pulled her shoulder up to her eyes to wipe a tear or two off on her blouse. Not for the first time, my heart ached for this family. Good people always left this world too soon. I allowed myself a moment to ponder the injustice of allowing truly evil people to live late into their lives when the best of us graced us with their presence for a fleetingly short time.
The Funeral Director started off by speaking eloquently about life and death and leaving your mark on the world. He quoted from the poem “Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep.”
"Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow."
Were those tears in my eyes? No. I had already decided that I had no time to grieve. I had a job to do.
Harmony was up next, telling funny stories about growing up with a patent lawyer for a mom, talking about her mom’s impact on others’ lives. Harmony never ceased to impress me. She got through her speech with only a slight hitch to her voice about halfway through, and then she bravely smiled and kept going. When it was done, people filtered out of the chapel and stood in line to hug Harmony and Jeremy and murmur words of condolence, and I didn’t see anything that seemed out of the ordinary. I kept a strong eye on Beatrice. In my opinion, she was the sleeper of the bunch, the one I didn’t feel as though I had enough information to determine whether or not she was capable of murder. My gut still said she was.
I had offered my home to host the reception after, which Harmony gratefully accepted. Eats, Meats, and Sweets Catering Company laid out an impressive spread of delicate tea sandwiches, mini quiches, vegetable crudite with roasted red pepper dip, and small, single serving assortments of tomato basil and butternut squash soup. On another counter were freshly baked cookies, chocolate truffles, delicate fruit tarts, and small bites of bread pudding with warm vanilla sauce.
Cynthia entered with her husband, Tony, wearing an extremely form-fitting black dress, 4-inch black heels, her long nails recently done, and her platinum blonde hair perfect in a tousled bun. The two were barely interacting, no eye contact, no low talking between them, and when they got to the family room, they parted ways.
I hadn’t expected Cynthia’s pool boy “friend” Lars to show up, but he trailed behind them with enough time to not make it seem as though they might be together. He stopped at the entry from the foyer to the family room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. In my experience, pool guys are rarely the stereotypical great-looking Adonis’s from TV, usually they’re older men with bad teeth and a combover. Lars, though, was about as close to the stereotype as they get. Blonde hair, dark tan, perfectly fitting black suit, he moved through the room with the grace of an athlete and the confidence of a man who knows every woman is looking at him.
Poor Tony! He never stood a chance once this bastard got Cynthia in his cross-hairs.
I wandered over to him. “Excuse me, would you like a glass of wine?”
“Thank you-?”
“Kate. And you are?”
“Lars Novak.” He raised his glass to me. “This is your house, isn’t it? It’s very nice.”
“It’s much too big for me, but I enjoy it. How did you know Angie?”
“I’d met her a couple of times, and I’m friends with Cynthia and Tony, so I wanted to show my support. I understand you were good friends. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” I paused for a second, to give the moment weight. Also, I didn’t want to seem too eager before I started interrogating him. “I have a quick question. Have you ever bid on the pool contract for the HOA? I know Angie was looking into going out for new bids to see if she could save us all a little money.”
“As a matter of fact, I did, just recently. Unfortunately, Angie passed away before any decision was made, at least as far as I know. Are you on the board?”
He’s smooth, I’ll give him that.
“Isn’t it unusual to be negotiating with an HOA President instead of the Manager?”
He wrinkled his brow. “Now that you mention it, it is a little odd, but not unprecedented. I guess I didn’t think much about it at the time.”
Cynthia saw us together and made a beeline for me, putting her hand on my arm. “Kate, dear, that man over there was asking if there’s more ice. Would you mind helping him out?” She pointed in the general direction of the kitchen. There didn’t seem to be anybody desperately searching for ice, and there was plenty out, but I took the hint and moved away.
I turned back around to see Cynthia and Lars speaking in low, urgent tones, and I wished I had thought to drop a bug in Lars’s suit pocket. Not that that would be legal or that I had one handy, but it would have been interesting. I considered buying one on Amazon. How much could a good one cost, anyway? Probably didn’t matter. I could afford it now. I really needed to be more up on the latest spy tech if I was going to solve a murder here.
Cynthia pulled Lars over to Nick Silva and Edward Diamond and made a show of introducing them. Lars and Nick shook hands.
There it is: the art of the deal. Cynthia’s still working the room, trying to get Lars the pool contract for the HOA. Seems a little disrespectful to do this at Angie’s funeral, but I’m sure there’s no better time to make it seem like a spur-of-the-moment thing rather than being pre-planned.
Javier wandered over to me, sleek in his black suit and tie. He and Dayna had attended the services, both to show their respects and to keep an eye out for anybody acting suspicious. “Looking sharp, Chief. Civilian clothes become you,” I said.
“Thanks, Kate.” He leaned on the credenza next to me, both of us looking out at the people mingling in my kitchen and family room. “See anything unusual yet?” he asked in a low voice.
We both fell into our old habits - easy banter and teamwork.
“Just those two,” I said, lowering my head towards Cynthia and Lars. “They’re clearly trying to get in good with the new President, maybe get a pool contract for Cynthia’s arm candy.”
“Got it. We’ll keep a sharp eye on them. Anything else?”
“No.” I sighed. “I felt bad because during the whole service, all I did was look around and watch people. I missed parts of my best friend’s eulogy.”
“Yes, well, from what know about Angie, that is exactly what she would have wanted you to do.”
“Thank you, Javier. That’s a very kind thing to say.”
Dayna Afaoma came over with a plate full of cookies and bread pudding bites balanced in her hands. She looked amazing in a black dress that hugged her petite figure and her naturally curly hair sleeked back into a ponytail. “Kate, I am so sorry for your loss,” she gave me a hug without using her hands.
“Girl, these cookies are amazing!” Javier reached over and relieved her of the bread pudding bite and a cookie, stuffing one into his mouth.
“I’ve had eyes on Beatrice, Cynthia, and Felyne, but I don’t know a lot of these other people.” Dayna jutted her chin at a group of men standing with their hands in their pockets, chatting. “Okay, who are they?”
“That’s Edward Diamond, grumpy old man, next to Nick Silva.”
“Nick’s the HOA VP?”
“That’s right. Nick and Ed walk together most afternoons.”
“Anything good about them?”
“I know Ed was very upset about them pulling out some tea olive trees near his house. They’re really more like shrubs, and they’re dying because the area is always wet from leaky irrigation lines.”
“Noted.” Dayna placed her desserts on the credenza and typed notes into her phone. “Anything I haven’t already heard about Nick?”
“I stopped by his place yesterday, just as Beatrice was leaving.” Dayna’s eyebrows went up. “He said he has to take over as President of the HOA now, so he needed her help with some stuff.” I shrugged.
“Could be legit.”
“I agree. Nothing about him screams ‘killer’ to me. He was interrogating me about DNA evidence. He came off more as an armchair sleuth than a guilty man plying me for info.”
“Is Beatrice here?”
“Right over there.” I pointed to the fireplace, where Beatrice was chatting with Renee Hernandez. Bea didn’t appear to have been crying, nor did she look the slightest bit upset. “She’s still very high on my list of suspects,” I told them.
“We didn’t get anything off her from her interviews.”
“Alibi?”
“Says she was home with her husband. He corroborated.”
“Yeah, well, he’s what the politically incorrect would call pussy whipped. Henpecked. He’d lie for her just so he wouldn’t be in trouble with her constantly.”
“It doesn’t matter, though. We can suspect all we want, but we have nothing on her.”
“And that, to me, makes her even more suspicious.”
Javier stuffed another cookie into his mouth. “If only we could arrest somebody because Kate Warner finds them suspicious.”
I glared at him.
“Okay,” Dayna jumped in. “We’ve got the entire HOA board here.” She ticked them off. “Nick, already noted, Cynthia with, apparently, the new boyfriend AND her husband, and the Hernandezes, hovering by the food.”
“And that’s the other big neighborhood gossip, sorry, I mean landscape committee member, Lexie Turner. She has a Great Dane.” Lexie had attached herself to the handsome Lars and was chatting him up. He made a good show of being interested in what she had to say.
“Does owning a Great Dane mean anything as far as the murder goes?” Dayna asked.
“For sure. People who own Great Danes wouldn’t have the time or energy to commit murder. Unless, of course, Angie had threatened to ban them in the neighborhood. That would be enough motive. But there’s been no such proposed changes to the covenants, so we’re good there.”
“I take it Lexie isn’t a suspect?”
“Look at her! She’s just a tiny thing. Given where Angie’s head wound is, there’s no way she could have done it.”
“No sign of the ex?” Javier asked me.
“He wouldn’t dare show up here. I’m pretty sure we put the fear of God in him.”
Becca spotted me and made a beeline, her eyes shining with fresh tears. “Rebecca Stromburger,” I whispered to Dayna. “Neighborhood gossip.”
“Got it,” she whispered back.
“Oh, Kate!” Thankfully, she didn’t try to hug me. “That was a beautiful service. And this must be Chief Mendez. I’ve heard so much about you!”
Javier’s eyebrows went up and he looked at me quizzically. I hadn’t said a word to anybody, except, of course, Dayna and Mr. Tuttles, so I knew Becca was just fishing. I shook my head at him.
“Becca, this is Chief Mendez and Officer Afaoma.” Becca went in for the hug with Dayna, and I had to turn my face away and cover my mouth so people couldn’t see me almost laughing. Becca was my size, around 5’ 9”-ish, and not a small woman. She engulfed Dayna, who didn’t have a chance with Becca’s forwardness.
“Oh,” Dayna said, patting Becca on the back while the hug lasted an uncomfortably long time.
“You know, I haven’t been brought into the station to be interrogated,” she told Dayna after she stopped hugging her so hard.
Dayna’s brows wrinkled together. “We have your statement, though.”
“Oh, yes, a very nice young man came to the house to talk to me, but I understand everybody else is being called in to the station. And nobody’s come back to ask any more questions about what I told that young man.”
“Do you have any other information you think would be pertinent to the case?” Dayna seemed genuinely confused.
“I mean, who knows, am I right? I talk to almost everybody in the neighborhood at one point or another. My mind is just a well of information, waiting to be drained.”
Dayna was catching on. “I see what you’re saying. Give me a day or two, and I’ll be in touch if we don’t make any progress on the case.”
“Yes! That’s what I’m talking about!” Becca leaned in for another hug, but Dayna ducked it and gave me a look that said, “What the hell?”
“Thank you, Becca,” I said. “I know you’ll be a huge help! Have you talked to Cynthia? She looked devastated earlier. I bet she’d appreciate a kind word from you.” Cynthia hadn’t looked devastated at all, but throwing Becca at her to save ourselves was just good common sense.
Becca wandered away in the general direction of Cynthia, and I laughed, watching her catch Cyn in another huge bear hug.
“We can cross her off any list,” Javier stated.
“Just a feeling you have?” I asked.
“It’s a pretty well-known fact in law enforcement that huggers aren’t murderers.”
“I guess I haven’t seen that study.”
“You’re not a cop.”
“I don’t know, Javi,” Dayna said, picking up a bread pudding from the credenza. “Guilty people love to attach themselves to active investigations so they can keep tabs.”
Javier shrugged. “The hugging thing trumps the nosey thing, at least in my book. Kate, anybody else you’ve found suspicious?”
I sighed. It felt like we already had plenty of suspects, but I knew sometimes these things were somebody who was never on your radar. Some of the podcasts I’d been listening to were finding that with the cases being solved by genetic genealogy, the killer ended up being a total stranger or somebody you never even thought of.
“Look,” I said. “Over there. What’s going on with Felyne and Cynthia?”
The two women faced each other, both leaning in, Felyne’s face red. They were having words we couldn’t hear. Then Felyne shoved Cynthia, who fell back a step or two but didn’t fall.
The room became silent as everybody turned to watch them.
“Bitch, you’re going DOWN for that!” Cynthia screamed, throwing a right hook at Felyne’s head.
“Whoa!” Dayna said, impressed.
Felyne twirled with the force of the punch, slamming into the ground hard. Cynthia was on her, grabbing her hair.
As though in slow motion, I saw Javier and Dayna trying to get to the two ladies before they did too much damage, but a crowd had formed, and they had to push through. Tony Barron was the first to the scrum, grabbing Cynthia by the arm and pulling her away while Felyne shot a kick towards Cynthia’s shins that didn’t land hard enough to register.
“YOU KILLED HER,” Felyne shouted. “You killed our friend!”
What?
“Me? What the fuck are you talking about?” Cynthia struggled against her husband’s hold while Harmony shuttled her daughters out of the room. “You’re the one going around making your ‘special jelly’ and giving it to her.”
Ah, yes, the jelly.
“Oh, come on! You were the one trying to get your boyfriend a cushy job. You know you killed her after I left! What? Were you trying to hide your AFFAIR?”
Javier put his hand out to Dayna, telling her to stop their approach. Might as well let this play out.
“Shut up, you tiny little elfin bitch!” Tony shouted. He raised his arm as if to punch Felyne. “The whole neighborhood knows you’re stealing from the HOA sixteen different ways!”
Javier quickly grabbed Tony’s arm, pulling him back, while Felyne’s face turned levels of crimson I’ve never seen. Javier and Dayna forced themselves in-between the two ladies. Javi grabbed Felyne’s shoulder, hauling her to her feet, and as soon as she was close enough, Felyne spit at Cynthia, a huge wad that landed right in Cynthia’s face.
“Oh, my!” Mr. Mittelman said.
Ed Diamond took the opportunity to shakily help himself to more fruit tarts, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cynthia’s boyfriend Lars head for the door.
I bet that relationship is over now.
Javier had a hold on Felyne and pulled handcuffs out of his suit pocket. “You are both under arrest for suspicion of the murder of Angela Beech.” He looked over at Dayna, who had a good, strong hold on Cynthia. She shook her head, and he rolled his eyes.
Seriously, Javier, where would Dayna hide a pair of handcuffs in that form-fitting black dress?
The bubble of shocked horror inside my home popped as soon as the four of them left the house and loaded into Javier’s sedan, headed for the police station. Tony followed behind them. I hoped he had a good lawyer.
The crowd left in my house was tittering: “What do you think that was about?”
“What did she mean by ‘special jelly?’”
“I’ve thought all along Cynthia was the killer. It was obvious to anybody who was paying attention.”
“Excuse me,” I said loudly. “EXCUSE ME!” Everybody turned to me and quieted down. “This whole thing has been especially hard on Harmony and her family. I’m so sorry, I know we haven’t been here long, but it might be best if everybody left and we let Harmony have some time alone.”
“No, wait!” Mrs. Friedlander, who was at least 80 if she was a day, spoke up, her voice quite clear for a woman her age. “I have something to say. I didn’t know Angie well enough to speak at the funeral, but I was hoping to be able to say a few things here.
“Before Angie was elected, I was cited for needing to paint my house. I know I live in a very nice area with mostly upscale homes, but I bought this house over twenty years ago. Since then, I retired, and my husband passed away. I live on a fixed income, and I am very grateful to have this home that we purchased when interest rates were so low. The cost of living has gone up so much, and I can’t afford to paint my house. Mrs. O’Shea said that they were going to fine me for covenants violations! Angie interceded on my behalf. She arranged to have the local Boy Scouts troop come paint my house. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have had somebody who cares, cared, I mean,” Mrs. Friedlander shook her head sadly, then continued, “I’m grateful we had Angie as our HOA President! She wasn’t just kind to people she loved, she was kind to everybody!”
A murmur of agreement filled the room. Nick, now standing next to me, nodded and wiped away a stray tear. I found a few bits of water on my cheeks as well and dabbed at them with a napkin.
Mr. Owens spoke up. “All I wanted was to slow the traffic down along the main street. People drive through there like banshees! Beatrice and Felyne wouldn’t even return my calls. Angie reached out and told me that she would have the HOA buy signage for the street, reminding people to slow down.”
Elaine Robles stood. “Does anybody remember what this neighborhood looked like before Angie?” Everybody nodded. “We had weed barrier with no mulch to hide it. We had trees that died and were not taken out. The cost of water just keeps going up and up. Angie found the money to pull the weed barrier and put down rock. Is it pretty? No! But it’s better, and we don’t have to water anything there. The dead trees have been removed, so they are not a fire hazard anymore. Angie did that!”
I realized tears were streaming down my face. Harmony stood, leaning against the wall, in the hall leading into the family room, listening intently. Our eyes met across the room.
She was a great woman.
Yes, she was.
Angie didn’t deserve to be murdered. I hoped the perpetrator was one of the two in police custody right now, but a small voice in the back of my mind said it wasn’t them.