“Body Found in Canal,” I read aloud from the headlines then quickly perused the front-page article. “It says here, ‘The man, who was shot in the head, has been identified as Dwight Sanders, a prominent West Palm Beach businessman.’ Businessman? Dwight? It goes on to say that he was a person of interest in the murder of his stepmother and that he was last sighted in Key Largo.”
“I guess that’s the end of that,” said Alex.
“The end of what? Somebody killed him, wanted to keep him from telling what he knew about Valerie’s murder. It’s not the end of anything. It’s merely another piece of this confusing puzzle.” I tossed the paper on the table.
“You mean, you believe what Dwight said?” Grandy turned to Alex. “This girl, sophisticated in so many ways, is dumb as swamp water about men, especially bad boys like Jerry and Dwight.”
“Motive, Grandy. Why would Dwight want to kill his stepmother?”
Max shrugged. “The usual. Money, maybe.”
“She didn’t have any.” Alex said it quickly and with certainty.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Uh, Jerry told me. We talked about the investment thing that he had gotten the Sanders into and how they had lost millions.”
He looked so guilty when he said it.
“Now why would Jerry confess that to you? He lied to me about any involvement with Sanders and his family.”
“He was drunk when we had the discussion.”
“See. What did I tell you? Here she is cross-examining the wrong guy,” said Grandy.
“Oh, I intend to have a chat with Jerry, too. When I find him. Hopefully that will happen before the cops get to him.”
Grandy set a plate of sandwiches on the table and ordered us to “Eat up.” I continued to eye Alex with skepticism, but he was too busy engaging Max in boat talk to notice. Grandy kicked me under the table and whispered a “Be nice” in my direction. I screwed up my face but kept my mouth shut.
I ate only half of my sandwich, then left everyone at the table to finish their coffee and Key lime pie leftovers while I packed my overnight bag.
Grandy handed me a brown paper bag. “There’s a piece of pie for you in here. Another one for Alex, too.” Then she hugged me goodbye. “Call me when you get home.”
Alex and I drove the “strip,” the twenty-plus miles between Key Largo and Homestead, without speaking. As we turned onto the Florida Turnpike, Alex broke the silence.
“Why do you dislike me so much?”
I couldn’t tell him that I distanced myself to protect my poor abused heart, broken years ago by Jerry and jump-started every time the man had cheated on me. He would have said that was irrelevant. Maybe it was. I didn’t know the rules for having a relationship with anybody other than a bad boy. What did one do with a nice guy who treated you with deference and respect? One you wanted to wrestle into bed every time he so much as looked at you. So I told him part of the truth, the part that kept me from throwing myself at him.
“I don’t dislike you. I just don’t trust you, and I think I have good reason for that, don’t you?”
“Do you? Like what?”
“You know. You’ve had relations with the Sanders family.”
“As a private investigator only.”
I gave him a long, hard look. “Really? You kept the PI job even after Valerie was murdered. What was that about? Didn’t Sanders believe the police were good enough to solve the crime? Then when he found out that you and I were friendly, he fired you. Why? See, I’ve got a lot of unanswered questions about you. Are you going to answer them for me? I don’t think so.”
As if on cue, my cell rang. Good old Jerry, but would he tell me the truth? Or was I just going to hear more lies?
Alex and I waited in front of a Starbucks in the West Palm Service Center. After a half-hour of swiveling our heads each time a lone man entered the center, I told Alex I had to use the ladies’ room. “You know Jerry. You can spot him as well as I can.”
“Yeah, but you lied to him. You told him you were alone, driving a rental back to Sabal City. I don’t think Jerry will be happy to see me.”
“I gotta pee. We’ll have to take the chance.” I turned my back and ran for the restroom.
I felt immeasurably more relaxed when I left the stall. I was washing my hands when a woman wearing far too much makeup pushed up to the sink next to me, shoving me off balance.
“Sorry, honey. I tripped. How you can balance on those heels is beyond me.”
I shot her a dirty look, but she shouldered me out of the way, reaching across the sink to grab a paper towel.
“What’s your problem?” I asked. Then I took a good look at her. “She” was no “her.”
“Hi, Evie. Pretty good get-up, huh? It got me past Alex. Say, what’s going on between you two, anyway? How come he got an invite to the boat, but I got left out?” Jerry’s smile revealed lipstick-covered teeth.
“Alex is not wanted by the police. Grandy seems to prefer her guests that way.”
Jerry pulled me away from the sinks and into the corner by the changing table. He was wearing stiletto heels as high as mine and a coral dress that clung to curves I knew he did not have. A pair of oversized sunglasses sat atop a blond wig. I reached out to touch it. It felt like real hair. Catching my gesture, the washroom attendant rolled her eyes. With Jerry’s hand on my arm and mine in his hair, this must have looked like more than a casual conversation.
“I’ve got a few questions for you,” he said.
“Oh, no, not until you answer some of mine. Like, why did you sell Sanders our condo, house, and boat?”
“You got the papers on you?”
“I told you. I don’t. Someone snatched them from under my pillow back at the boat.”
Jerry groaned. “Don’t you know better than to hide important stuff in the most obvious place?”
“I guess I didn’t take the same ‘How to be a Clever Criminal 101’ course as you.”
“Who do you think took them?” he asked.
“My first guess was you.”
“Wrong. Sanders must have sent someone down.”
That made sense.
“The papers, Jerry. Why did you sell the stuff at such a reduced price?”
“He threatened to go to the Securities and Exchange Commission and tell them that I had known the investments I recommended were part of a Ponzi scheme. You know, where the early investors make money because the consultant pays them from the later investments.”
“You didn’t know about it, did you?” I leaned in, as if getting closer to his heavily mascaraed lashes and pancaked face would allow me to discern the truth.
“I didn’t know squat about that scheme, but Sanders was rightly pissed when he lost all that money. Someone had to pay. He made that someone me.”
“I don’t see how taking those documents changes anything.”
“Mr. Napolitani recommended that I get them back. He said it would give us some wiggle room when talking with Sanders.”
“Wiggle room? What kind of ‘wiggle room’?”
“Never mind. Listen, I’ve got to go.”
“One more question. What’s the relationship between Alex and the Sanders family?”
Jerry hesitated just a moment too long, then applied another layer of paint to his already thickly powdered face. But this layer wasn’t cosmetic, this one was the illusion of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. Then he walked out.
After he had left I let myself fall back against the baby-changing table, wondering why it was so damn difficult to get a straight answer from either Alex or Jerry. They were so different in so many ways, yet so alike when it came to acting sincere and avoiding the truth.
I had found out something from Jerry, however. I now knew how easily a clever man could dress up like a woman in order to blend in. Dressed like that, any man could go unnoticed in a public toilet, or perhaps, a shop full of customers. A man could get away with murder dressed like that. They could also reenter said shop at a later date to cover their tracks, maybe steal a knife to replace the one that they had lost in the heat of the moment. How fortunate for them that I’d dropped one on the back room floor. Oh, it wouldn’t have been Jerry, of course, but someone else. I felt even more certain now that Valerie’s killer had access to the Sanders’ house. That meant both family and friends were suspect. Maybe not Dwight. Poor dead Dwight.
“What took you so long? I was about to send in a mounted patrol.”
“That’s not the kind of question you ask a lady,” I said, feigning offense. “No Jerry?”
“Nope.”
“I guess he chickened out then.” I looked around the crowded area but saw no sign of the “woman” who had accosted me in the restroom.
“Yeah, well, I’ve seen Highway Patrol officers going in and out. If he wants to remain a free man, he should start picking better meeting places. Let’s go.” He gave the area one last look, then grabbed my hand.
An hour and a half later, we pulled up in front of my house.
“I’ll come in and take a peek around. To make certain no one’s here,” Alex said.
“Like who? Dwight’s dead and Jerry’s not going to show his face here.” I reached for the car door handle. Alex put his hand on my shoulder.
“We should talk.”
“Oh?” About time. But being inches away from his full lips made me forget how important the truth was to me. Talk could wait. Gravity was pulling me in.
There was an untimely tap on the car door.
“Hey. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Madeleine’s perky face appeared in the window.
Alex looked peeved. Whether that was because he really did want to talk or because he was about to communicate in another way, I couldn’t tell. My face must have shown relief because now I didn’t have to wrestle with my conscience. The furrows on his forehead deepened.
I rolled down the window. “Hey there. No, we just pulled up and were considering dinner. Want to join us?”
Alex slammed his palms on the steering wheel. “Oh, damn. I forgot. I have some paperwork to do. I’ll carry your bag in, and the two of you can catch up.”
“Never mind the bag. I’ve got it.” I reached back and grabbed my duffle, then hopped out of the car. “Thanks for the lift. Sorry the weather wasn’t better.”
“Maybe next time.” He saluted me and then shifted into drive.
Madeleine and I watched the car zoom off, its back wheels spinning out on the loose gravel.
“What did you do to him?” she said. “Any faster and he’d have ripped the tires clean off that car.”
“Let’s go to the Burnt Biscuit, eat steak and get crazy with some cowboys. I need a little fun.”
There was a bass tournament in town and the anglers seemed to have chased all the cattle jockeys back to the range. I like fishermen, but, when you want to have fun, there’s nothing more annoying than having to listen to fishing stories that grow longer and more absurd as the night wears on. We ate our steak and wandered home. Madeleine offered to spend the night, but I assured her that I was fine.
“You’re not saying that because you think something would go wrong if I stayed here, are you?”
I considered several possibilities: an unexpected hurricane, a cattle stampede through my neighborhood or a plane dropping out of the sky and landing on my roof. I couldn’t see how she could cause any of those. Well, maybe the stampede, so I decided not to chance it.
“No, honey. I just want to be alone tonight.”
Madeleine and I opened the store together Monday morning. It was after noon when the first customer appeared. The initial rush of murder-inflated interest had definitely subsided. Trade was down, and not for a lack of classy inventory. I had to get to the bottom of this murder or we’d be filing bankruptcy in a month.
I hadn’t heard from Alex since he had left me to wrestle with my hormones. Madeleine insisted that I was too tough on him, too suspicious of his motives for being around me, too distrusting of one of the good guys. I wasn’t certain. I needed another opinion, so I called Grandy, who agreed with Madeleine’s appraisal of the situation. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I shoved their assessments to the back of my mind and considered other issues.
Suspicions of the Sanders family and their circle of friends bothered me. Dwight’s death had made it easy for the authorities to wrap up the case, but I was still pondering the issue of motive. Since nothing was happening in the store, I made several phone calls to acquaintances in Connecticut. We talked about old money, old families, and those individuals who skirted the edges of the law. I had no contact number for Napolitani, but I thought I might be able to get in touch with him through his daughter, my soon-to-be-replacement, Jerry’s new fiancé.
“Hi. This is Eve. You know, Eve Appel. Do you have a minute?” Friendly, casual, as if we knew each other better than we actually did.
Her voice was bitter. “I know, and I’m not interested in speaking with you unless you tell me what you did with Jerry.”
“I didn’t do anything with him. He did things with himself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I was tempted to tell her he dressed like a woman on at least one occasion, maybe more, but I stopped myself.
“Nothing. Could you tell me how to get in touch with your father?”
“Why?”
This conversation wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped. “Never mind. Just tell him I’d like to talk with him.”
“I’m not telling him a thing.” The line went dead.
The conversation had gleaned more than I thought it would. Now I knew Jerry hadn’t been in touch with his fiancée and the soon-to-be mother of his child. Why not?
Madeleine and I were about to close early when a black limousine pulled up in front of the store. Goodie. Patrons from the coast.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The chauffeur got out and walked around to open the back door. Madeleine and I stood transfixed in front of the window as Leon Sanders, Valerie’s husband, got out and walked into the shop.
“Mr. Sanders. I’m sorry to hear about your son.”
The expression of doubt and anger on his face told me didn’t believe me for a minute and even if he did, he couldn’t have cared less about my condolences.
“Let’s dispense with the pleasantries.” He stopped mid-sentence, as if he had realized that there was nothing pleasurable about a death in the family, condolences or not. He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’d like to talk to your grandmother.”
“Grandy?”
“Yes, I believe that’s the one.”
“About what?”
“That’s between her and me.”
I wasn’t going to let this man bully me. “Mr. Sanders, you’re in my shop. On my turf. You’re asking me to do you a favor. One I’m not certain that I approve of. I love my Grandy, and I’ll do anything to protect her, especially from you and Valerie’s family. So, whether you like it or not, you’ll have to go through me if you want to speak to her.”