Chapter Thirty
“You sound terrific,” Hurley said after Spraggue sneezed for the third time in two minutes. “Drink?”
Satch’s, behind police headquarters on Stanhope Street, was almost empty at three in the afternoon. They slid onto two bar stools.
“Just coffee,” said Spraggue. “Black. I’m all doped up on antibiotics.”
Hurley gave his order to the barmaid. Bourbon on the rocks. Spraggue raised an eyebrow.
“Coffee,” Hurley muttered sadly. “And here it was gonna be my treat. Serves you right for wandering around half the night soaking wet. I almost put out an APB—but I figured it might look bad: loony millionaire dressed up like a vagrant. What would people think? And with your luck, Menlo would have been the one to spot you. He’d shoot on sight.”
“What’s he want?” Spraggue asked, annoyed. “His case is solved.”
“My case, Spraggue. I’m grabbing a lot of points on this one. I’ll be out of Records so fast—”
The drinks arrived. Spraggue tried to smell his coffee, gave it up. The steam felt good anyhow. He cradled his cup. “So that explains the celebration.”
“And I thought you might like to know that we picked up your friend, the Spider. Got him at the airport.”
“Congratulations.”
Hurley sipped bourbon. “You know, based on those calls your boy, Eddie, made, only one out of four citizens calls the police when threatened with blackmail. Caroline Ambrose was the only one who came to us. Darien—well, Darien had reason not to. Spider heads for Miami—”
“Probably bound for points South American.”
“Right.”
“What about Hudson?” Spraggue asked. “I was sure he had nothing to do with it, but he threw me with that total failure to react.”
“Says he just figured it as one more prank. And he’s real busy consoling that redheaded wonder woman. I’ll bet she put it out of his mind.”
Spraggue drank hot coffee.
“I bear greetings, too,” continued Hurley. “Your little blond friend is out of jail. She sends her undying thanks. If you’ll call her, she’ll say ’em in person.”
“Yeah.”
“The other one, Karen Snow, asked me to give you this.” Hurley thrust a small square envelope into Spraggue’s hand. “She left town this morning, with her stepbrother. Going up to Maine to see the family. No one pressed charges.”
Spraggue turned the slender envelope over in his hands. Just as well, he thought. If she hadn’t fooled him so completely—
“Don’t you want to know what Spider said?”
“Sure.”
“Spider really started the whole business—” Hurley began.
“By blackmailing Darien over that car accident?”
“You got it. Darien was dead drunk. Spider saw it all, from the backseat of the car, no less. By judicious use of shady connections, he got Darien off the hook—for future considerations. Darien had a real future back then, before he got labeled a drunk.”
“When did the cocaine come in?”
“While visiting friend Caroline down in Colombia. Spider was bleeding Darien pretty good by that time. Darien got inspired, smuggled a little dope back to the States, just enough to keep Spider off his back. Later, after Caroline left De Renza, Darien figured out a way to take advantage of the orchid scam.”
“He had a confederate in Colombia?”
“One of De Renza’s assistants. As far as De Renza knows, he only sent Caroline floral tributes for one year.”
Spraggue smiled. “That’ll be a blow to a king-sized ego. Think she knew what was going on?”
Hurley shrugged, tipped back a slug of bourbon. “I doubt she wanted to know. I’m sure she never questioned her popularity as a Darien leading lady. Only the critics did that.”
“The one time she talked to me about her pals, Spider and Darien, her dog died. Spider must have let her know there was a connection between the two events.”
“Spider admitted killing the dog.”
“And what else?”
“Oh, he was anxious to confess, to everything but murder. That honor he gives to Darien.”
“Funny how all the pieces fit together,” said Spraggue.
“Make me laugh, then. I still don’t get it all.”
“From the beginning?”
“Great place to start.”
“Okay. Gene Arnold gets himself cast in Darien’s play. He borrows another actor’s résumé; the real Eddie Lafferty’s probably off on some European tour. Gene’s goal: to give Darien a severe case of guilt. Maybe even scare him out of the business.
“Darien panics. He wants protection, but he’s afraid to go to the cops because of the cocaine. So he tries a couple tricks of his own.”
“Get me another bourbon,” Hurley said to the barmaid. “Which tricks?”
“He gets rid of Frank Hodges via the Bloody Marys. If that hadn’t worked, he’d have tried something else. Because he wanted me to come in and catch his joker. And to hook me, he sent me the bat, imitating the joker’s printing.”
“So all the small stuff was Eddie’s? The dolls and the—”
“Here. I’ve been through this.” Spraggue pulled his black notebook out of his pocket, opened it to the page he’d scrawled in the cab. “Take a look.”
A |
B |
1. The beheaded dolls |
1. The Bloody Marys |
2. The bloody mask |
2. The beheaded bat |
3. The dead raven |
3. Caroline’s dressing room break-in |
4. Eddie’s strangulation |
4. Caroline’s trip wire |
5. Emma’s bloodbath |
5. Caroline’s stolen orchids |
6. Alison’s tape, the rats |
6. Caroline’s murdered dog |
7. Langford’s death |
“A is for Eddie?” Hurley asked.
“Eddie or Gene, whichever you prefer.”
“Your handwriting stinks. B for Darien?”
“Darien and Spider.”
“Okay. So the first two pranks on the B list are designed to bring you in.”
“Right.”
“Stupid move.”
“Darien’s. Spider never approved of me.”
“And the break-in to your leading lady’s dressing room?”
“Spider, I think. He must have dropped one of the orchid boxes, spilled some coke. So he broke a jar or two of Caroline’s powder as a cover-up.”
Hurley’s finger moved down the list. “Caroline’s trip wire?”
“That threw me almost as much as it threw Eddie. Darien must have finally concluded that Caroline’s performance could sink the show. He was in a bind. He had to use her; she was the cocaine source. Eddie’s tricks gave Darien the idea. If the leading lady was injured, if she broke a leg, for instance, orchids could still have been sent to her hospital room. It would have been tricky, but I’ll bet Spider could have found a way to arrange her flowers for her, and get ahold of the coke-filled boxes. Darien would get the money. He’d have Caroline in a local hospital, and he’d line up a great replacement.”
“The stolen orchids?”
“John Langford. Pursuing his own detective inquiries. If he’d said anything to anyone else, he might still be alive. But he trotted his discovery straight to Arthur Darien.”
“And Spider killed the dog,” said Hurley.
“Yeah. And Darien killed Langford.”
“Can I borrow the notebook?” Hurley shoved it into his back pocket at Spraggue’s nod. “Sure you don’t want a drink?”
“It wouldn’t help.”
“How about another puzzle piece?” Hurley tried to keep the satisfaction off his face.
“What?”
“The theater.”
It took Spraggue a minute. “The Acme Holding Company,” he said under his breath.
“Huh?”
“Aunt Mary tried to find out who owned the place. She ran up against some holding company.”
Hurley nodded. “Darien. That’s where all the cocaine money went.”
“What’ll happen to the theater?”
“Probably tear it down. It’s a white elephant. Unless some rich young out-of-work actor decides to buy it—”
Spraggue finished his coffee, got to his feet.
“Let it rot,” he said.
He walked out the door, Karen’s envelope still unopened in his hand.