Thank you. I’ll call tomorrow and set something up.”
I hadn’t expected to drum up any business, but my stalking had yielded another viable candidate for my firm. I was about to say good-bye and let Suzette get back to her shopping, when I thought of something else that might help my other investigation.
“Did Mr. Hachmeister ever talk with you about the death of Mr. Sanjari’s wife?”
“Jenna. Oh, that was horrible. She was a lovely woman. I met her a couple of times at open houses we had around the holidays. Just such a shock.”
“Did you or Mr. Hachmeister find it strange that she died the way she did?”
Suzette looked thoughtful. “I thought it was weird that they went up to Maine in winter. I mean, we had plenty of snow and cold right here. Why not go away to someplace nice and warm if you were trying to have a second honeymoon? Are you saying there’s something fishy about how Jenna died?”
“I don’t know. Her family certainly had concerns, and I know Mr. Sanjari was questioned by the Maine police.”
“And you think his death might be related?”
I shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”
“I hope to heaven that Gary’s not involved in Vic’s murder. But he never said anything to me about Jenna’s death being suspicious. He was very upset after she died, but in the usual way. He took it very hard. You see, I notice things, and if you ask me, I’d say that Gary was in love with Jenna.”
Chapter 17
That was quite a little bombshell, and it also made me want to look at Gary Hachmeister more seriously for the death of Victor Sanjari. If the man was in love with Vic’s wife and found out he killed her, maybe he had been waiting all these months for the perfect time to take his revenge.
I pushed my cart around aimlessly until I came to the meat counter. Suzette was just taking her package from the butcher of what I presumed were steaks for dinner, and headed her cart in the opposite direction. I moved along to the end of the counter where there was an assortment of already cooked chickens, ribs, and tri-tip. I put a tri-tip in my cart thinking I could slice it very thin for sandwiches. I picked up some cheese and marinated chilies. In the produce section I found tomatoes and a ripe avocado. I paid for my purchases without seeing Suzette again, and headed home.
John wasn’t home when I got there and I wasn’t hungry yet, so I grabbed my exercise gear and headed for the gym. Half an hour later I vigorously walked uphill on the treadmill while I read a book by an indie author I found on Amazon. The book, Free Country , was about two British guys who decided to walk the length of Britain without using any money. I had resisted getting a Kindle for a long time, but it certainly came in handy at the gym, and there was always a good selection of great books by independent authors to choose from.
“Alex, is that you?”
I looked up from my page to see a man with very large biceps and an engaging smile.
“Seymour! How nice to see you. How have you been?”
Seymour Pratt, aka Sloth, was a young tattoo artist with a bright future thanks to some financial help from my grandmother. Meme likes helping young people with questionable pasts get back on their feet, and Seymour was one of her many success stories. In addition to tattoos, he also designed custom rosary beads. A strange combination to be sure, but he had blended both skills beautifully, and had his own shop in Pirates Cove called Body Expressions .
“I’m doing well. The shop is getting a good reputation, and I’m starting to get a lot of customers via word of mouth from all over New England and New York. I saw your grandmother today.”
“Oh, yeah, she told me she and Theresa needed to pick up more tattoos.” Meme and her gang like wearing temporary tattoos with various bingo motifs when they go to the bingo halls. She had managed to drum up quite a bit of business for Seymour, and he tried to come up with a
I hadn’t expected to drum up any business, but my stalking had yielded another viable candidate for my firm. I was about to say good-bye and let Suzette get back to her shopping, when I thought of something else that might help my other investigation.
“Did Mr. Hachmeister ever talk with you about the death of Mr. Sanjari’s wife?”
“Jenna. Oh, that was horrible. She was a lovely woman. I met her a couple of times at open houses we had around the holidays. Just such a shock.”
“Did you or Mr. Hachmeister find it strange that she died the way she did?”
Suzette looked thoughtful. “I thought it was weird that they went up to Maine in winter. I mean, we had plenty of snow and cold right here. Why not go away to someplace nice and warm if you were trying to have a second honeymoon? Are you saying there’s something fishy about how Jenna died?”
“I don’t know. Her family certainly had concerns, and I know Mr. Sanjari was questioned by the Maine police.”
“And you think his death might be related?”
I shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”
“I hope to heaven that Gary’s not involved in Vic’s murder. But he never said anything to me about Jenna’s death being suspicious. He was very upset after she died, but in the usual way. He took it very hard. You see, I notice things, and if you ask me, I’d say that Gary was in love with Jenna.”
Chapter 17
That was quite a little bombshell, and it also made me want to look at Gary Hachmeister more seriously for the death of Victor Sanjari. If the man was in love with Vic’s wife and found out he killed her, maybe he had been waiting all these months for the perfect time to take his revenge.
I pushed my cart around aimlessly until I came to the meat counter. Suzette was just taking her package from the butcher of what I presumed were steaks for dinner, and headed her cart in the opposite direction. I moved along to the end of the counter where there was an assortment of already cooked chickens, ribs, and tri-tip. I put a tri-tip in my cart thinking I could slice it very thin for sandwiches. I picked up some cheese and marinated chilies. In the produce section I found tomatoes and a ripe avocado. I paid for my purchases without seeing Suzette again, and headed home.
John wasn’t home when I got there and I wasn’t hungry yet, so I grabbed my exercise gear and headed for the gym. Half an hour later I vigorously walked uphill on the treadmill while I read a book by an indie author I found on Amazon. The book, Free Country , was about two British guys who decided to walk the length of Britain without using any money. I had resisted getting a Kindle for a long time, but it certainly came in handy at the gym, and there was always a good selection of great books by independent authors to choose from.
“Alex, is that you?”
I looked up from my page to see a man with very large biceps and an engaging smile.
“Seymour! How nice to see you. How have you been?”
Seymour Pratt, aka Sloth, was a young tattoo artist with a bright future thanks to some financial help from my grandmother. Meme likes helping young people with questionable pasts get back on their feet, and Seymour was one of her many success stories. In addition to tattoos, he also designed custom rosary beads. A strange combination to be sure, but he had blended both skills beautifully, and had his own shop in Pirates Cove called Body Expressions .
“I’m doing well. The shop is getting a good reputation, and I’m starting to get a lot of customers via word of mouth from all over New England and New York. I saw your grandmother today.”
“Oh, yeah, she told me she and Theresa needed to pick up more tattoos.” Meme and her gang like wearing temporary tattoos with various bingo motifs when they go to the bingo halls. She had managed to drum up quite a bit of business for Seymour, and he tried to come up with a
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