“Gold coins?”
Cher nodded.“Neda was a gold bug. She loved her coins.”
“How much would you say her collection was worth—approximately?”
Cher frowned.“I’d have to check, but at last count she had over a hundred thousand dollars in gold in that safe. And if you count the jewelry and the cash she kept… I think Raban must have gotten away with at least two hundred thousand worth.” She arched an eyebrow when both Odelia and Chase sucked in their breath in astonishment. “You can buy a lot of dope with that kind of money, wouldn’t you say?”
4
We found ourselves in our second nice home of the day, or actually our third, if Marge and Tex’s newly finished house was added to the tally. Though to say we were at the house was actually a misnomer, as we were outside, with no means of entering the house, since its owner wasn’t home. But then we weren’t there to talk to Janette Bittiner but to her gardener Raban Pacoccha, who also happened to be Neda’s gardener.
So we’d simply walked around back and soon came upon Raban, raking a few stray leaves and looking distraught.
“He looks like a killer, Max,” Dooley commented when we caught the gardener in our sights and so did Chase and Odelia.
Brutus and Harriet had decided to sit this one out and instead had headed into town, where Harriet said she had some important business to take care of. What this important business could possibly be, I had no idea, but I knew better than to ask.
“Killers don’t have a specific look,” I told my friend. “Anyone can be a killer, and they won’t have anything in common with other killers as far as outer appearance goes.”
Raban Pacoccha was a tall and athletic man, with a nice crop of thick curly dark hair, and a handsome face. He was in his early thirties, and to me he didn’t look like a killer at all. In fact he looked more like a male model than a vicious killer and drug addict.
“Raban Pacoccha?” asked Chase, and held up his police badge as a way of introduction.
The man looked startled as his eyes zoomed in on that shiny badge, and immediately he dropped the rake and came walking over.“I am Raban,” he said. “What is this about?”
“My name is Chase Kingsley, Hampton Cove police, and this is Odelia Poole, civilian police consultant. We would like to ask you a couple of questions, Mr. Pacoccha.”
“Yes?” said Raban cautiously as he approached us. He glanced down at Dooley and me, then up to Chase again, dismissing us as unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
“You work for Neda Hoeppner?”
“Yes, I do. Neda is one of my oldest clients.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“Um, let me think,” said Raban, as he his eyes flitted up and to the left. “That must have been… last Monday. Mondays I always work at Neda’s.”
“Today is Monday,” Chase pointed out.
Raban smiled an indulgent smile.“Janette had an urgent job for me, so I couldn’t make it to Neda’s. I suggested tomorrow, but she refused and told me to skip a week.”
“So under normal circumstances you would have gone in today?” asked Odelia.
“Yes, today. But as I said, Janette had work for me.”
“What was so urgent?”
“Beats me,” said the gardener with a shrug. “All I’ve done is rake some leaves.”
“So you weren’t at Neda’s house this morning?”
“Oh, no, I’ve been here since nine o’clock.” He gestured to the leaves he’d raked. “As it turns out there wasn’t much for me to do here. But then that’s Janette for you.”
“How do you mean?”
“She and Neda don’t get along,” the handsome gardener explained as he raked a hand through his curly hair. “Especially since Neda was selected as the new choir director.”
“There was some kind of rivalry?”
“You can say that again. They’re at each other’s throats all the time.” Then suddenly he seemed to regret his words, for he lowered his voice, and shot a nervous glance in the direction of the house. “Please don’t tell them I said that. They’re both clients of mine, and I want to keepit that way.” He seemed to realize that this entire conversation had been a little one-sided so far, and he asked, “So why all the questions?”
“I’m afraid we have some bad news, Raban,” said Chase.
“Bad news? Oh, I think I know what’s going on here.” He gave the cop a grim-faced look. “Neda fired me, didn’t she? I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. That woman hates Janette so much she can’t forgive me for working for her. So she hired another gardener, huh? Who did shego with? Shakeel?”
“It’s not that. I’m sorry to tell you that Neda is dead, Raban.”
The gardener blinked.“Dead? What do you mean?”
“She was robbed and killed this morning,” Odelia explained.
“And we’re trying to find out what happened,” Chase added.
“Dead,” said Raban in hushed tones as his gaze raked his fallen rake.
“So you were here all morning, were you?” asked Odelia. “You never left?”
“No, I was here all morning,” said the gardener, once again gesturing to the fallen leaves, as if they could testify and provide him with an alibi.
“Can anyone confirm that you were here? Janette, maybe?”
“No, I haven’t seen Janette today. She had choir practice.”
“Can anyone else vouch for you?”
“Well, no. I guess not.”
“You have a key?”
“I have a key to the garden house, not the main house.”
“And how about at Neda Hoeppner’s place?” asked Chase.
“What about Neda?”
“Did Neda give you a key to the house?”
“No. No, she didn’t. None of them do. I just need access to the garden house. That’s where I keep all my stuff. And they all have one. Neda, Janette… Hazel.”
“Hazel?”
“Hazel Larobski and her husband Amadeo. They’re all members of the same choir.”
“And none of these people get along?”
Raban displayed a rare smile.“They hate each other, Detective Kingsley. It wouldn’t surprise me if one of them killed Neda. They all hated her.”
“But why?”
He shrugged.“You have to ask them. I just know that when Neda became director of that choir, that’s when the trouble started.”
Just then, a well-dressed middle-aged woman rounded the corner, and when she saw us all standing there chatting, she called out,“Raban, what did I tell you about inviting your friends over for a chat?!”
“These are not my friends, Miss Janette,” he said immediately. “They are police. They’re here because Mrs. Neda was murdered.”
Janette Bittiner’s reaction was a thing to behold: her jaw literally sagged, then her hand moved to her face and then she uttered a loud, startled cry of anguish.
“Either she’s very upset or she’s a very good actress,” said Dooley.
A small ball of fur fell from the woman’s arms and hit the ground running. It was a small dog, and when he caught sight of Dooley and me, he started yapping up a storm.
Lucky for us Janette quickly scooped up the ball of fur and tucked him into her arms again. Then she said,“You better come in.” And then turned on her heel and walked off.
I wasn’t exactly excited to accept the woman’s invitation, because that little doggie had once more sprung free from her grip and was once again making a break for freedom, trying to reach Dooley and me, yapping furiously all the while, but lucky for us Janette gave her dog’s leash a yank and snapped, “Sugar, quiet!”
And lo and behold: Sugar immediately shut up and tripped behind his mistress in the direction of the house. I noticed he was wearing a blue coat on top of his own coat of fur.
“Maybe we better stay out here,” I suggested to Odelia, who was following in the woman’s wake, as was Chase.
“Nonsense,” she said. “Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to talk to that dog and find out where Janette was when Neda Hoeppner was killed.”
I swallowed as I regarded the little fluffy ball of fury, which kept darting nasty glances in our direction even as he obediently tripped along behind his mistress.