Chapter 15

Getting up was one thing, but staying up, being productive, and keeping all the worries at bay was a completely different story. Doreen did check on Mr. Woo's condition at eleven this morning. The news was that he was slowly coming around, but he certainly wasn't able to talk to anybody. Only family was allowed to visit, so that put a stop to Doreen's hope that she could go by and talk to him.

Of course she wouldn't be allowed to talk to him; only the cops were. No matter how much she butted into their investigations, Doreen still wasn't a cop. As she had mentioned to Mack, it wasn't a lifestyle that would suit her, but that didn't mean it wasn't fine for him. Some things were better left to others, and being a cop was one of them. She could do her investigating another way, even if it was frustrating at times.

When Bernard called a short time later, he asked her, "I presume you were involved in that somehow?"

She snorted. "It doesn't say much about my reputation when you automatically assume I'm involved in something like this."

"No, it sure doesn't," he agreed cheerfully. "However, my little birds have told me that you were seen down there."

"I'm the one who found Mr. Woo, and Mack was with me," she explained. "Hopefully Mr. Woo will be okay, but it's too early to say that he's completely out of the woods."

"At least you found him when you did."

"Yet I feel horribly guilty," she muttered, tears coming to her eyes.

"Why?" he asked. She told him about the Chinese food and not opening it until Mack came by. "Good Lord," he muttered. "I can see why you feel that way, but honestly nobody opens their dinner before it's time to eat."

"Yet a lot of people probably would have."

"They might have taken the things out of the bag to put it in the fridge maybe," he argued, "but they wouldn't have opened up each of the containers, and, even if they had, no guarantee they would have noticed."

"But it was right atop one of the dishes," she noted, with a sigh. "So it's not likely they could have missed it."

"Which also means Mr. Woo had somebody in his store at the time."

"That's what we figured," she muttered. "And I have absolutely no proof one way or the other and saw nothing to go on to solve it either."

"No, of course not," he muttered. "It is a fascinating life you're living, Doreen."

"No, it isn't," she muttered. "I keep hoping for peace and quiet, and, just as I thought I was getting there, boom, somebody goes and kills Mathew."

"Did you ever find his Jag?"

"No, and I even have a local PI on it too. The police are checking security cameras to see who may have picked up Mathew from the airport, plus checking for any street cameras around the restaurant. Yet I didn't see any. However, we do know that my phone was tapped, so it's likely Mathew was sitting near the restaurant a couple of hours before I showed up."

"So, whoever shot him was obviously the last person to see him, and we still don't know if anybody saw him before then."

"Exactly, and that's the problem. We don't know who may or may not have seen him sitting there."

"Why would anybody care if he was?" he asked her.

"That's true. Why would anybody care? He's just sitting there, as it would seem to any casual passerby. Unless somebody was out walking a dog, bored, waiting for their animal to lift a leg or something, it's not at the top of anybody's thought process."

"Maybe not," Bernard agreed, "but people do stop and talk. People do notice. Particularly since Mathew's not a local, so somebody may have seen something."

"That's always the problem," she muttered. "Somebody always sees something, but nobody ever says anything."

He sighed. "I can hear the frustration in your tone, and I'm really sorry there isn't anything more I can do."

"Hey, you've already been great," she replied, "and thank you for the phone. It's keeping me in the loop, while the police use my phone for whatever they're doing."

"I hope they can find something useful in yours," he replied. "The fact that we know it was tapped also means that you need to consider how they got a hold of it to make that happen."

"I was considering that, but, if I can't come up with an answer, it makes me look guilty again, especially to that new detective. She's convinced I killed Mathew and tried to kill Mr. Woo too. She's infuriating."

He laughed. "Nobody in their right mind would see you as the guilty party in this. And I've also heard from my little birds how the new detective's trying too hard, thinking she has to be a jerk or act heavy-handed in order to get any respect from her male peers."

"I agree with all that. She thinks I'm the one who's supposed to benefit from Mathew's death."

"If the divorce documents weren't signed," Bernard pointed out, "in a way, that's quite true, but it now depends on what's in his will. For all you know, he didn't leave you a thing."

"Considering who we're talking about, that's quite possible," she declared. "As much as I hate to admit it, I'm not sure he'll even take care of the staff he left behind, even those with him for decades."

"Lots of people don't," Bernard stated. "A lot of people don't consider staff to be anything other than furniture."

"That was Mathew, but he did have a close relationship with Reggie."

"Yet you really only find out what close means when somebody is dead and gone, and you see what they put in the will," he reminded her.

"And we can't have anything to do with that at the moment—at least I can't, not until the police talk to the lawyer and move me off the number one position on their suspect list. So nobody will give me anything if there's any suspicion I had something to do with his death."

"True enough, so, in other words, you're right back to the point of having to solve the mystery in order to get out of this mess."

"Oh, that's the easy part," she quipped. "After all, everybody seems to think I've got this."

"I'm sure you do," Bernard confirmed. "You're probably off your game a little bit because you've had a tough time dealing with your ex's demise, and then the attack on Mr. Woo has upset you even more. However, you've got this, Doreen. It'll be good now, and soon enough you'll be cleared and finished with something that's bothered you for a long time. There's your motivation."

"I know, but I'm still looking for that green Jag and whoever Mathew had with him. Mathew would have had a driver, either driving him around town or picking him up from that location."

"Sure, but, as soon as you find out, it would seem to be the killer."

"And he's likely back down in Vancouver by now," she muttered. "Maybe if I find the green Jag," she suggested, "I can find the driver."

"I did pull up the name of somebody I know who has a Jag that he rents out on a private basis."

"Oh, I need to talk to him."

"I spoke to him this morning, once I realized that's what he did, and he told me how he'd rented it out to a man who got off at the airport. Not the first time he'd rented to him, though he said it would be the last."

"Really. Did you ask him why?"

"I did. The car wasn't returned, and, since the insurance on something like that is pretty high, he's quite upset."

"Yeah, I would think so," she muttered. "Did you tell the police?"

"I was about to," he noted, with a chuckle. "Yet I figured you would want to know as well."

"I absolutely do. Thank you."

"Enjoy getting ahead of the new detective again."

Doreen snorted, then asked, "Did your guy have a description of the man?"

"He mentioned there were two men. One drove the Jag, and the other sat in the back."

"Mathew doesn't usually sit in the back," she shared, finding that odd.

"Apparently he had a bunch of paperwork, something about having to do some work."

"Maybe," she murmured, "particularly if he was short on time."

"That was definitely the impression he made. He was supposed to return the Jag at the end of the day, when he was to fly home, after conducting his business."

"But he didn't show up, right?"

"No, he didn't show up."

"So, there is a very good chance it was Mathew," she said.

"Wouldn't that be an interesting twist?"

"In what way?"

"The driver with Mathew probably just drove Mathew around and then dumped off the Jag somewhere where it wouldn't easily be found. Then he carried on."

"That would make the most sense," she murmured, "but we still have to find the Jag. And the owner must be looking for it now and will probably report it as stolen."

"I think the guy renting it out is probably being open about it being a rental, and the owner did have it insured for other drivers, so I'm not sure that's a problem, but the owner still really wants the car back."

"Of course he does," she muttered. "And once again we know where Mathew ended up, but we just don't know where he was before that."

"The airport and then to Mr. Woo's. But beyond that, who's to say?"

"Although he is a coffee drinker," she suggested, "so it would make sense that he was somewhere he could get coffee."

"So, we're talking about a coffee shop?"

"Yes, providing he wasn't planning on staying overnight, which he wasn't, since he only rented the Jag for the day."

"And again all good deductions," Bernard pointed out, "but still not helpful."

"No, because, if he wasn't getting a hotel room, there won't be anything we can track."

They both sat in silence for a moment.

She asked, "How does anybody even find the green Jag in a city the size of this?"

"The thing is, we're not such a big city, and cars like that stand out. You would think somebody would have seen it."

"Somebody did see it," she declared, with that wry tone. "They just haven't realized what it means."

"Not everybody knows what a Jag even looks like. Especially the newer models, and that's what this one was."

"There can't be that many places for it to be hidden, or it would have turned up by now," she muttered.

"I don't know," Bernard said. "It could be anywhere."

And he was right. There just weren't any answers for where it ended up. "The police are on the lookout for it, and it will turn up at some point, and, odds are, it will have been cleaned already and devoid of any evidence."

"So," Bernard asked, "who was this man with Mathew? That's what the cops really need to know. They could then follow him around town."

"It doesn't seem that our mystery driver is all that interested in telling the cops, or he would have come forward by now." She paused, frowning. "He's probably a bit on the shady side and can't afford any contact with the police."

"I didn't ask my guy about the driver, but I'm guessing the cops wouldn't get much out of him anyway."

"Of course not." She groaned. "That would be far too easy, wouldn't it?"

He chuckled. "I don't know about that, but, depending on what the driver's history is—"

"Sounds dodgy, if you ask me. And speaking of dodgy, what about this guy he rented the Jag from?"

"I don't know much, just that the guy makes a decent living renting private luxury cars."

"Are they his though, or does he run a long-term lease, then rents them out by the day?"

Bernard snorted. "Wow, I never even considered that."

"You have to wonder how this guy gets a Jag that he then rents out on a daily basis. You can bet he probably gets $500 for the day."

"No clue," Bernard said.

Or was he some parking lot attendant, renting out cars that weren't his? Oh my, she thought.

"I didn't ask him that, but I think I'll call him back and find out." And, with that, Bernard disconnected.

She stared down at the phone, wondering at how quickly everybody else seemed to get on the investigation train, even when they probably shouldn't. However, it wasn't her job to tell Bernard what not to do. After all, she wasn't even heeding her own advice, so she couldn't imagine anybody else listening to it. If Bernard could find out anything as a friend of this guy, it would be helpful because, in some circles, particularly wealthy ones, the police tended to find doors more often closed than open.

Lawsuits happened, and people grew fearful about talking. Sometimes it took personalities like Bernard and Doreen to make people want to talk. She didn't have to wait long for him to get back to her.

"The other guy was six foot, real thin, balding on the top, and acted like a butler."

She frowned. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, why?"

"It's almost a stereotypical description that you think of about a butler."

"He sounded pretty emphatic about it."

"It is interesting," she muttered, "although I can't say who it could be."

"You don't recognize the description?"

"Not really. Reggie is tall and thin, but, last I saw him, he had a full head of hair. I don't yet know who Mathew's private eye is or anybody else around him these days."

"Interesting," he muttered.

"But we still don't know what's going on and who is involved in this."

"But we will get there, so keep the faith," Bernard added. "I'll keep digging too." And, with that, he was gone again.

She smiled into the phone when it rang right under her finger, poised to make a call.

"You've been a busy girl," Nan stated.

"Not busy enough," she muttered. "I still don't have any answers."

"No, but you will, dear. You'll get them," she declared. "You know that."

"I'm hoping so, but we're not there yet."

"It's just about making progress," Nan suggested, "and we've got everybody here looking and talking, trying to figure out who could have done this."

"Has anybody seen a green Jag and anybody down at Mr. Woo's place on the day of…?"

"I did ask around and got a no to that. Everybody here is really happy with our new cook, who was trying out some fancy Italian dishes," she shared. "So nobody was down there getting Chinese."

"Right. That makes sense. I'm just having a hard time finding answers. I'm not sure the police still see me as a suspect, but I'm not off the hook until I'm completely off the hook."

"You're not off the hook," Nan declared, "until we have the murderer caught. Just because some of us want to give him an award for taking out that ex of yours doesn't change the fact that we must ensure everything on his case is tied up, nice and neat. Otherwise that hint of suspicion will continue to follow you."

"I'm not so concerned about that," Doreen stated, "as much as finding justice."

"There's no justice in this world sometimes," Nan reminded her. "So, we take what we can get. In this case, we need to get that killer."

Doreen chuckled. "I won't argue with you, that's for sure. We do need to find out who did it and what went on. I just don't have any particularly helpful answers yet."

"Not yet, but you will. I have faith." And, with that, Nan rang off too.

Doreen snorted into the phone. "Glad you guys all have the faith," she mumbled to herself, "because I'm not at all sure that I do." With so much going on, she wasn't at all sure if anyone should have faith in her on this one. She was even starting to lose a bit of faith in herself, but she didn't dare because she wasn't at all sure that the new detective, Insley, was anybody Doreen could trust to handle the case.

Mack, the captain, and the rest of them? Absolutely, but then she would also be partly in the loop and in there getting her hands dirty. And she was trying in this case, really trying, but, so far, it wasn't working out to her advantage. But since when was that a thing? She'd always had to make things happen in her life, so, hey, that's what she would do this time as well.