by Tom Shepherd
“Tanella?” Olivia said. “You could have knocked.”
“How long have you been Mossad?”
“I beg your pardon?” She curled a leg under her.
I raised a hand, “Omigod. You’re a spy?”
Tanella nodded. “Only the Pentagon and the Israeli Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations have world-wide, point-to-point, satellite based communications systems which function indoors, independent of commercial phone nets.” She glanced at my puzzled eyes. “Time magazine.”
Olivia was silent, avoiding Tanella’s eyes.
Tanella sat on the arm of the sofa. “Well, Mrs. Bennett?”
“If I were working for the Institute, do you think I would admit it?”
“Tanella, you gotta publish a program. I’m lost.”
“Mrs. Bennett has been gathering intelligence information about key players in Arab geo-politics. She’s probably been Mossad since her hostage ordeal.”
“You mean she’s been microfilming war plans and scientific stuff?” Realizing how childish that sounded, I added, “Sex for secrets?”
Olivia laughed. “Sally Ann dear, your fantasies are way too hot.”
“Most intelligence agents work in area studies,” Tanella said. “They quietly gather bits of background data about key people. Everything from their favorite foods to their religious beliefs and personal habits.”
“So, is she the killer?” I said. “No offense, and please don’t shoot me if you are, ma’am.”
Tanella threw up her hands and shook her head. “O’Malley was working for her, so indirectly he was Mossad, too. She’s been tracking the druggies. That’s why she’s been gone so much.” My friend turned to Olivia. “At first, you thought my dad killed Carsten O’Malley. Then I told you he didn’t come to your boat that night, which meant somebody else drowned him. Somebody who knew the value of the ring as evidence against you.”
“But the ring was still on O’Malley’s hand,” I said.
“On his ring finger. But he had a ring shadow on another finger that matched the cartouche ring perfectly,” Tanella said.
“Two hieroglyphics rings?” I said.
“No! We saw his hands at the gazebo. O’Malley wore only two rings, neither on the ring finger. Whoever killed him took off the ring and put it back on the wrong finger. The ring finger.”
“Why did he—oh! I get it. He realizes it might be evidence against Mrs. Bennett, so he decides to pull off the ring. Then he thinks, ‘If the ring isn’t missing, it’ll point to her even more directly.’ So he slips the sucker back on O’Malley’s finger, but in the darkness he gets the wrong one.”
Olivia lifted a red votive candle to light her cigarette. “How did you decide it wasn’t me protecting myself, Tee?”
“You knew where he wore the ring. You and Carsten O’Malley had spent time together in the darkness.”
“Long ago,” Olivia added. “But a woman doesn’t forget. Very clever.”
“I only thought of it when Sally Ann mentioned finding her—uh...a particular part of her body—in the dark with both hands,” Tanella said. “Will you tell me who your contact is?”
The door snapped open and Tanella’s dad joined us in the candlelight.
“Young lady, you and I must talk!”
Olivia blinked. “I hope you’re addressing me, Dr. Blake.”
“My errant offspring.”
Tanella ran to hug him. He let her, then grasped his daughter by the arms. “Child, you scared me sheet-white tonight.”
“She knows,” Olivia said.
“You didn't tell—?” he stopped himself. “No, you wouldn’t.”
Olivia nodded. “I’m beginning to think she reads minds.”
“Mrs. Bennett,” Tanella said, “is the dumbwaiter still in service?”
“Don’t think so. I seldom sleep here. I love my boat.”
Tanella opened the elevator doors; they swiveled easily. “Daddy, I know who killed Beaumont, McClure and Abdu’l. Maybe all five. It’s complicated, but almost all the pieces have snapped into place.”
“Tee, I don't think—”
“Let her talk, Nate.” Olivia patted the sofa, and Dr. Blake sat next to her. “Tell your father what you suspect, honey.”
“Can’t just yet. I need to go back to the restaurant.”
“Why?” Dr. Blake said.
“I need an audience.”
Her dad’s eyes flashed. “Tanella!”
“I need to tell my theory to everybody at once.”
Dr. Blake sighed. “My child, you’ve read too many books.”
Olivia blew a smoke ring. "I think we should do it, Nate.”
Dr. Blake took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. If you really know who the murderer is, we’d better tell Inspector Borkowski. Even if you make a ding-damned fool of yourself, I’d feel safer with a foolish child surrounded by cops and soldiers.”
Olivia crushed her cigarette. “I’ll come with.”
Twenty-Three
The storm banged so hard on the plywood window coverings I couldn’t hear what Tanella had said. I moved closer to her. Inspector Borkowski poured himself a cup of lukewarm coffee from a glass pot and studied my fourteen-year-old Amerasian friend.
“So, Miss Genius. Think you’ve broken the crime wave?” He shook his head. “Dr. Blake, I have to put the cuffs back on you.”
“But I turned myself in.”
Borkowski shrugged. “Where will you go, outside with Hagar?”
Sergeant Springer pulled a pair of handcuffs from the rear pocket of his uniform trousers. “Sir, don’t you think we ought to hear what Miss Blake has to say?”
“Cuff him,” Borkowski said. He turned to Tanella. “I’m listening.”
She drifted to the piano where April Eddington was sitting while Sergeant Springer snapped the metal shackles around her father’s wrists. Tanella didn’t look, but a shiver rippled through her when the handcuffs clicked.
“First. I suspected Mrs. Bennett.”
“My wife?” Hector Bennett said. “That’s ridiculous.”
“But she hired Carsten O’Malley to find the drug dealers. It’s not likely she’d kill to protect her drug racket.”
“I still haven’t seen any drugs,” Borkowski said.
“Look in the dumbwaiter shaft,” I said.
Tanella shot a freezing glance at me, and I backed up two steps, toppling into a chair. I looked away from her glare. To my right, Eric had taken cover under the skirts of a dining table.
Borkowski sipped his coffee. “Go on, kid.”
Tanella continued. “Then I wondered about Moses—”
“Me?” the black bartender said. “I never did nothing.”
“You’ve never mixed alcoholic drinks before.”
Hector Bennett slapped the piano bar. “Nate, your daughter is incredibly arrogant. I hire no one without references.”
“She’s right, Mr. Bennett,” Moses sighed. “I needed the job, so I lied. But I never killed nobody.”
“True,” Tanella said. “When you found the blood trail, you came right here to report it. If you were the killer, you would have just slipped away and let someone else discover the stains.”
“Okay, he didn’t do it, either,” Borkowski said. He glanced at the blonde singer sitting at the piano. “How about Ms. Eddington?”
“April sent us to Mr. McClure’s room before he was shot, so she could have arrived after he locked us in the closet.”
“Hey, wait a minute!” She banged on the piano keys.
Tanella said, “But she’s too thin to be McClure’s killer.”
“I’m also a blonde. We go for community property, not blood.”
“Why can’t the killer be thin?” Borkowski said.
“Sally Ann weighs about—”
“Tanella!” I hooted.
“Well, let’s just say, when Sally Ann climbed down to join me our combined weights started the dumbwaiter. That means it takes over tw
o hundred pounds to start the system without hand-over-hand cranking from above or below. The killer came down the shaft after us, too quickly for hand operation. So, the murderer must weigh at least two hundred pounds.”
“That eliminates the women,” Borkowski said. “Unless two of them came down together.”
Tanella’s dad frowned. “April and Olivia? Not likely.”
“Dr. Blake weighs about two hundred,” Borkowski said.
“Daddy can’t be the killer,” Tanella said. “He was in custody when Tony McClure died. Besides, McClure said someone else killed Clancey Beaumont.”
“Who?” Borkowski demanded.
“He didn’t give a name. But Sally Ann heard the killer’s voice.”
I frowned. No, I didn’t.
Tanella glanced at me. “Sally Ann, you can speak freely. He can’t hurt you now.”
“Tell the truth, kid,” Borkowski said.
“Uh—I—uh—”
“Mr. Bennett,” Tanella said, “what did you have to gain by killing all those men? More customers for your cars?”
“Nate, what is this girl talking about!”
With his handcuffed wrists, Dr. Blake grabbed Hector Bennett’s arm.
“Hector, you bought a Ukrainian auto plant. But Europeans already pay too much for fuel. They’ll never buy your gas guzzling Gutfahrt, unless the price of oil drops like the Berlin Wall.”
“Do you think I’d risk War in the Middle East just to open a new business?” Bennett said.
“Not just a new business, Mr. Bennett,” Tanella said. “Eastern Europe, Russia, and all the former Soviet Republics—potentially, one of the biggest markets in the world.”
“Toss that much in the pot,” Dr. Blake said, “even Jesus might have taken the Devil’s offer.”
“Don’t you have to read Mr. Bennett his rights?” Eric said.
“I’m still listening,” Borkowski said.
“I don’t care what you think of my business ventures!” Bennett said. “When McClure died, I was locked up in meetings with Prince Ahmad, Wechtel and Rightmeir. Dr. Thornburg was there—Bob?”
Uncle Bob frowned. “Well, we did break for about an hour. But Hector went to the boat—”
“The boat was gone,” Olivia said.
Mr. Bennett's jaw quivered, but he didn’t speak.
Borkowski turned to me. “And you’ll testify in court that you heard Mr. Hector Bennett talking to Tony McClure right before the victim was shot?”
I looked at my shoes.
“Answer the inspector, Sally Ann,” Uncle Bob said.
“The girl is frightened,” Dr. Blake said. “Tell the truth, sweetheart. Nobody will hurt you.”
What did Tanella want me to do? She’d set me up for this. Was I supposed to lie? Incriminate Hector Bennett because she’d figured out he was guilty? What if they shoved a Bible under my nose and forced me swear before God and Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary? No, they usually don’t make you swear to the Blessed Virgin Mother. This is a Protestant country.
“Sally Ann, remember Mosby’s horse?” Tanella said.
Dr. Blake chuckled.
The runaway horse that spooked an enemy unit? She wanted me to bluff them!
“Darn right, I’ll testify.” I pointed at Hector Bennett. “He did it.”
Borkowski shrugged. “Okay, Mr. Bennett. Come with me.”
“This is absurd!”
“Out in the hallway, please.”
“Inspector—”
“Out in the hallway!”
“No! You’ll kill me, like you killed McClure.”
Borkowski pulled his gun. A gasp radiated through the room. I froze. Sergeant Springer’s hand quivered, his eyes followed Borkowski. “Put your piece on the piano bar, Sergeant,” Borkowski said. “No tricks, or I shoot one of the citizens.”
“You?” Dr. Blake said.
Springer drew the pistol with fingertips and placed it on the polished bar top. Borkowski waved his gun. When the black policeman took a step back, the Inspector collected his weapon. Now we were looking down two barrels.
“He’s the man on the beach,” Tanella said. “Inspector Borkowski wasn’t out patrolling that night. He was looking for us. He killed Clancey Beaumont because Sally Ann and I knew he was part of Bennett’s drug smuggling ring.”
“Hector?” Dr. Blake said. “He’s a multi-billionaire.”
“Was a multi-billionaire, darling,” Olivia said. “Hector’s been cash poor for years. Desperate for hard currency to squander on his auto venture in the Ukraine. I’ll bet that’s why he’s been wholesaling drugs. Ten million a night in US paper mounts up quickly. A few more months, he could buy Kiev.”
“You hired O’Malley to catch your own husband,” Tanella said.
Olivia smiled.
“Borkowski is Israeli secret intelligence?” I said.
“No!” Tanella said. “He killed O’Malley and Antonucci because they discovered his night drops.”
“Maybe,” the Inspector said, leaning an elbow on the bar but still training the guns at us. “And maybe not.”
Tanella turned to Borkowski. “You knew how to operate the dumbwaiter, because you brought drug shipments up from the basement to Mr. Bennett in the Presidential Suite. You shot Tony McClure, chased us down the dumbwaiter shaft, and got wet in the sewer when the tide came in. That’s why you changed clothes. Not from a downpour in the parking lot.”
“Very smart. Tell me more, kid,” he said, putting Springer’s pistol on the bar. “How’d you know it was me?”
“Three mistakes. First, you didn’t know the drugs were in our hot tub. Your eyes showed surprise when Eric blurted the information. But, you said there were no drugs, probably figuring you could go back later and move them.”
“I thought Bennett found them.” He took out a cigarette pack and shook one to his lips. “Had no idea you stashed the coke in your bathtub. Figured he was double-crossing me.”
“So, you found my note?” she said.
“You typed that?” Borkowski said. “Nasty trick. I gave Bennett hell over that note.”
“Abdu’l saw you rolling the clothes cart down the hall. He followed you into our suite, saw the drugs, and you shot him.”
“Maybe. What were my other mistakes?” He lit the cigarette.
“Why are you making her explain?” April Eddington said.
“He’s stalling,” Solomon Rightmeir said.
I raised my hand. “Excuse me. Are you going to shoot us?”
Tanella shook her head. “Mathematically impossible. He hasn’t enough bullets.”
“That is not comforting.”
“Shut up, kid!” Borkowski said.
Tanella’s eyes searched the room. “Your mistakes? Yes. Well, second, the rollers on the cart left tracks in the rug. You came back and got the drugs after telling us the hot tub was empty. If the drugs had been removed before the body was found, our footprints would have flattened the imprint of the cart rollers. You rolled over our steps.”
Curtis, the white policeman, entered the dining room and drew his pistol. For an instant, I thought we were saved. But Curtis pointed his gun at Dr. Blake and Mr. Rightmeir, and moved beside the inspector.
“Now, he’s got the bullets,” Dr. Blake said.
“Mrs. Bennett, Dr. Blake—come with me,” Borkowski said.
“Take us out, shoot two at a time?” Olivia said.
“That’s not going to happen,” Tanella said flatly.
I smiled, leaning to Tanella’s ear. “What did you do, sabotage the guns? Swipe the bullets while they were sleeping?”
“Well, no.”
“What’s your plan?”
She winced. “I just thought he’d confess and Sergeant Springer could arrest him.”
“That’s it?” I squeaked. “You expected him to surrender?”
“It seemed the sensible thing.”
“Sensible! Tanella, he’s killed five guys—he is not sensible!”
“But—”
“Some freaking genius. Didn’t even think of sabotaging the guns!”
“How could I?” she said.
“You are so stupid!” I said, wheeling away from her.
“Fine! You think of something.”
Me and Tanella never argue, but this time we were yelling so loud that everybody in the restaurant heard us over the hurricane. They all turned to us—including Borkowski and Officer Curtis with guns in their fists. Then I saw Sergeant Springer edging closer to the two white cops from their left side. Springer cocked his head and I understood.
“Tanella Blake,” I shouted, “you’re an ignorant whore, and I’m gonna knock your face off!”
You had to be there. Tanella’s eyes went wide and white. Dr. Blake took two steps toward us, further distracting Curtis and Borkowski. Everyone in the dining room froze as I grabbed Tanella and we fell to the floor, and I screamed and swore and said I was going to kill her. Dr. Blake and Dr. Thornburg forgot Borkowski’s gun and rushed to break us up. That was all Sergeant Springer needed. He rammed the two rotten cops like a linebacker blitzing the quarterback.
Springer’s shoulder hit Borkowski in the stomach, folding him like a pocket knife, hurling the inspector into Officer Curtis. The guns in Borkowski’s hands—his own smallish snub-nose pistol and Springer’s bigger weapon—flew from the inspector’s grasp as the top half of his body snapped down from the impact. Both pistols clattered across the floor and landed at my feet.
I rolled off Tanella, picked up the handguns, and jumped up. I backed away until I felt the cool wall behind me. And just a few inches behind the wall, Hagar pounded the building with curtains of wind-driven rain. I looked desperately for somewhere to toss the weapons. Dr. Blake waved at me, but as I raised my hand to throw a terrible crack! echoed off the ceiling. Springer and Curtis were fighting for Curtis’ gun, and the weapon fired. Then it went crack! again, and April screamed, and people ducked under tables and crumpled on the floor.
Suddenly, Borkowski was reaching for me. “Give me the guns, Sally Ann. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“You’ll shoot us!”
“No, I won’t. I promise. Give me the guns, I’ll let you all go as soon as the hurricane is over.”
“Stay back!” I pointed both barrels at his face. “This time, it ain’t perfume!”