Blood Will Tell

by Mary Bowers

  “I wanted to know what the neighbors think, because obviously they’re suspicious of my uncle and that man Kip. And Linda. And me too, I guess,” he added with mild surprise. “That other day on the beach – I don’t know – I can talk to you. Don’t get me wrong; I like Ed, but, wow. And Trixie, Dan, Willa, different reasons for each of them, but also, wow. And Kip? He’s my only other suspect, really. And if he did it, Linda’s in on it. That only leaves you to talk to about it. Or Gretel, but she almost doesn’t count.”

  “So you really do suspect your uncle?”

  I waited, but he wouldn’t answer.

  “Look, Carr, I know you must love your uncle, but if he’s a killer he’s going to jail, and that’s got nothing to do with you. Does it?”

  “I don’t know. He’s been behaving so strangely. Not just now that there’s been a murder. I mean before that. With the Foundation. Moving money around, updating databases and managing to rearrange them at the same time. Granted, they’re antiquated. The Foundation’s systems are stuck in the ‘80s. We don’t even have cloud storage, which is a potential disaster. But why now? With this other thing going on. It’s like –”

  “Smoke and mirrors,” I said thoughtfully.

  “Exactly. And he’s got me doing the database work, which also doesn’t make sense. We had to scale back every department to save money, and we’re outsourcing I.T. now, and all of a sudden he gets this project going and he wants me to do it?”

  “Hmm. Maybe I can explain that one. He’s still in charge, but when it comes to computers, he doesn’t know what he’s doing and won’t admit it. Also, he needs to economize, so he turns to you instead of some outside company that will send him a huge bill for a project like that. To people his age, all Gen Xers look like computer geniuses. You know, we of the older generation have been joking for years now that if you want your computer fixed, ask your ten-year old grandson, or in this case, nephew.”

  “I’m not exactly ten.”

  “You look it to me.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said.

  The conversation dried up, and the teasing hadn’t helped. Carr was staring down at the table and there was a strong undercurrent of tension coming from him. I thought about it and made a wild guess.

  “You’re worried that he’s going to throw you under the bus somehow, aren’t you?” I asked quietly.

  Without looking up, he said, “Yeah. Yes. I am.”

  “Is he capable of that?”

  Now he looked at me and said, “I think so. He’s lived a life of status and privilege on somebody else’s money for a long time now, and that kind of thing is hard to give up. Now the money’s drying up, and he’s desperate. He’s 71. He’s not going to get another job, especially not a cushy job like a directorship, after what’s going on with the Foundation. In a situation like this, yes, I’m worried he’d use me for a fall guy. He’s thought of me as a loser for years. He probably figures it’d be no great loss to the world if I spent some time in jail. Might even be good for me,” he added with a bitter smile.

  “Not if you’re innocent. It seems to me – look at me, Carr – it seems to me that you’re just getting your life back together. You should have left the Foundation a long time ago. It’s a crutch, and your relationship with your Uncle isn’t good for you. Once you make it on your own, I bet things will improve between the two of you, but as they are now, he’s always going to think of you as a hopeless kid.”

  “He doesn’t know it, but he needs me,” he said tonelessly. “There isn’t much of our family left. I’m an only child with no wife or children, and Uncle Sherman never married. It’s just the two of us now. He’s been making mistakes, and you’re right, he’s not the kind of man who can admit it, even to himself. I’ve managed to cover for him a few times, but . . . he needs to retire. While there’s still time. Even if the Foundation was on solid ground, he’s not the man he once was. Some of the things he’s done haven’t made sense. Some of them have been downright illegal. I’ve managed to reverse some trades and finesse the brokerage that it was all an innocent mistake, but I don’t know how much longer it can go on before he’s caught.”

  “Are you telling me he’s embezzling?”

  “Not exactly. More like check kiting, if I can use a basic example. It’s not a matter of hands in the cookie jar. It’s more like a shell game. Maybe even a Ponzi scheme. Hell, I don’t know. That’s another part of the problem. He keeps me in the dark as much as he can.”

  “Was Harriet aware of this? Maybe that’s why he kept her out of the Foundation’s offices.”

  “I honestly don’t think she knew, but I can’t be sure. Ms. Verone – Taylor – I asked you here today so I could give you something. It’s a file, but I’ve sealed it in an envelope.”

  He opened the briefcase, took something out and handed it across the table. It was fairly heavy, and maybe as thick as half a ream of paper. I held it a moment as if it might go off, then set it beside me on the little bench I was sitting on.

  “I’m going to ask you not to open it,” he said, “but just to keep it. If you have a safe, please lock it up in there. If not, just keep it hidden somewhere in your house. I may ask you to give it back to me. If . . . anything happens to me, give it to the police. If I’m arrested, give it to my lawyer. Will you do that for me? I know it’s asking a lot, but I don’t know who else to turn to.”

  “Yes. I can do that. I guess.”

  Satisfied, he looked away across the ocean again. “It’s so beautiful here,” he murmured. “Why can’t I enjoy it?”

  I had no answer for that and decided I didn’t want to get any deeper into Carr’s problems. I knew too much already.

  We left soon after that.

  Chapter 28

  I was deeply disturbed by the things Carr had told me. And I handled the envelope he’d given me as if it were infectious. I didn’t even want it in the passenger seat as I drove home. I opened the hatch in the back of my SUV and slid it under my overnight bag, like I was trying to bury it.

  When I got home, I wished I’d buried it even deeper, because there was Detective Bruno again, hanging around on the veranda, waiting for me with a glass of iced tea in his hand. I managed to get my overnight bag out of the cargo bay and slam the hatch down again before he got to me. The hot potato was safe in the hidey-hole. He took my bag away from me without asking and carried it up to the house after saying, “Mornin’, ma’am.”

  “Hello yourself,” I muttered, and walked up the veranda steps beside him.

  Michael had been sitting with him, waiting for me, apparently, and one look at my face told him I was not okay.

  “Stopped for coffee along the way?” He asked with heavy lightness. “When the fuzz showed up, I checked the locator app and saw that you were over by the Karma Café.”

  The fuzz – Bruno was alone, but I don’t know what you call a singular “fuzz” – pulled a tired smile and waited for me to speak.

  I made a lightning decision. I was going to have to tell the detective something about my talk with Carr. Chances were pretty good we’d been seen leaving Santorini together. In fact, if Bruno had been part of the activity at Kip’s house, he might have even seen us leaving and followed us. He would have driven right by Karma Café on his way to Cadbury House. Car and I had been sitting outside. Bruno might have seen us. But no – in that case, he would have stopped and talked to us there. Maybe. Unless he wanted to question us separately.

  It was all too complicated for me to unravel with Bruno standing right there, reading my face, but I knew I’d better come clean, since I didn’t know how much Bruno knew about what I’d been doing that morning. Besides, what Carr had told me might hold the answers to everything.

  But I also decided I wasn’t giving Bruno that envelope. Not yet. It would have been an immediate betrayal, and I figured the chances Bruno had seen the actual hand-over were pretty slim. I wasn’t Carr’s surrogate mommy, but when somebody reaches out to you that way and t
hey seem really desperate, you can’t help but respond. It was Carr’s hot potato, I decided. When and if the time came, he could hand it over himself. And if anything did happen to Carr, I’d do as he asked.

  I looked at the frosty glass in Michael’s hand and said, “I could really use one of those.”

  “Sure. Y’all just have a seat. Won’t be but a minute.” He took my overnight bag from the detective and brought it into the house.

  “Rough night?” Bruno asked.

  I faced him. “Rough morning. The night was okay. Let’s go around to the river side of the house where we can relax and I’ll tell you about it. You’ll be interested.”

  “I’m quivering already.”

  I gave him a flat stare. “Nothing makes you quiver.” By then we were around the corner of the veranda and near the big basket chairs facing the view. “Siddown.”

  I waited to unload the real meat of my conversation with Carr until Michael joined us.

  * * * * *

  “Yeah, we looked into the Foundation,” Bruno said when he was sure I was finished. “It’s been on shaky ground for a while now. And Sherman Frey has been making some rash decisions because of it.”

  “Well why the heck didn’t you say so?” I asked, exasperated. “You could have saved me a lot of breath.”

  “I wanted to hear it in your own words,” he said, smiling gently. “Rule #1: Never stop a witness who’s on a roll.”

  “Naturally they’d have to check it out, Taylor,” Michael said reasonably. “He was the only one in the house at the time. So even his own nephew has doubts about him? And now they’re together in the same house. I’m surprised Carr took him in, if he feels that way.”

  “Carr loves his uncle,” I said simply. “You can love somebody and still not trust them. Not even like them.”

  “Only one thing bothers me,” Bruno said, stretching idly. I could hear his joints cracking in the gentle breeze. “You say that Mr. Frey is upset that you and Mr. Ed have been keeping a close watch on Ms. Garden? He’s looking to see more of her, and you’ve been getting in the way?”

  “I guess he had a point,” I said. “It’s only natural for people to want to cling together after a death.”

  Michael and Bruno were eyeing one another. They were on either side of me, so they had to look across me to do it.

  “If he wants to play up to her, what does it matter?” I said. “She got so badly burned in her first marriage, she’s not going to do it again. She hasn’t shown any interest in Sherman at all that way. And she’s already consented to ‘go steady’ with Ed. All of a sudden, Willa is the center of a social whirl. Let the girl have some fun for once.”

  They both stared at me, as shocked as maidens.

  “Look,” I said, “I’m a woman. I’ve got a feel for these things. Willa feels kindly toward Sherman. Kindliness is not even on the same planet as desire. It’s like the opposite. When a woman wants to let you talk because she feels sorry for you, start looking around for another date, because she’s just not that into you. Not that way.”

  Bruno regarded me, looking worldly. “If you say so.”

  After rocking and gazing over the water for a few minutes, when Bruno still didn’t get up to go, I said, “So, are you thinking of arresting Sherman?”

  “Oh, no,” he said lightly. “We’re probably arresting Kip Stanley this morning.”

  I did a slo-mo head turn and stared at him with what I hoped were reptilian eyes.

  “Excuse me, dear?” I said drippingly.

  “Did he show you his collection?”

  “Yeah, he did. He’s the only guy I know who keeps a blunderbuss on his desk.”

  Bruno held up his forefinger. “A harquebus. Beautiful specimen, too.”

  “He collects old weapons,” Michael said. “You’re working yourself around to the dagger on the beach.”

  “The dagger on the beach,” Bruno repeated. “And the desk. It’s a rare antique. He’s very proud of that desk. Did he show you all its little secrets?”

  “We were talking about warrior monks at the time. No, he didn’t make a point of showing me the desk.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s a very complicated piece. But we have experts working for us. We got a professor from Flagler College out there this morning to take a look at it. Ever try to get a college professor out of bed at three in the morning? They have the same sleep schedules as their students, apparently, but when we pay a surprise visit, we like to show up early. Catch people off-guard. He stopped grousing when he saw the desk, though. He became a fountain of information, talking like a saleman. Kip Stanley hung on his every word, by the way. I think he actually enjoyed it. He even corrected him at one point. Anyway, the professor found the secret compartment in about five minutes. Drooled over it, gave a long-winded lecture on the delights of 18th Century craftsmanship – wondered who could afford to collect such a piece and just use it as a desk – good point, don’t you think? And all the time, Mr. Stanley stood there gazing at the desk like it was his favorite kitten.”

  He was enjoying himself too much, and I got fed up. “If all this is going on in Santorini, what are you doing here?”

  He waved a brown hand airily. “The evidence techs are there, and my partner’s got things under control. Actually, I didn’t intend to be here this long. I’d better get going.”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” I said. “You’ve got something up your sleeve, and you’re here for a reason. You’re not satisfied it was just him, are you? What was in the secret compartment of the desk?”

  “The scabbard for the dagger. Another rare and beautiful piece. And sitting on top of it, the actual murder weapon. Still bloody, all sealed up nice and neat in a zip-up bag, like he knew how to collect evidence the right way.”

  “So it was him,” I said.

  “It certainly looks like it. Also, there was a print-out of reservations for two to fly to the British Virgin Islands from Miami. Lots of islands out there, some of them private. I wonder what his ultimate destination was going to be. Him and his lady.”

  “He and Linda were getting ready to flee?” Michael asked.

  Bruno looked at me, as if this were some kind of a test.

  I shook my head, frowning. When Bruno silently inquired, I made myself say it out loud.

  “No. Not he and Linda. He and Willa.”

  Chapter 29

  It was a few moments before Michael could speak. When he could, he asked Bruno, “Are you saying she’s right?”

  Bruno silently nodded.

  Michael stared at us, outraged somehow, and said, “Oh, no, that can’t be! You’ve got it all wrong, both of you. It doesn’t make any sense! Kip and Willa barely know one another.”

  Bruno gave me another of those inquiring looks, then said, “I can’t figure it out myself, but Ms. Verone, here, seems to have put it together. Why don’t you enlighten us? Or maybe we should ask the cat. Where is the cat, by the way?”

  He was trying to get me to blow my top and get reckless, and I just didn’t have the strength left. All I could say was, “The penny finally dropped.”

  Michael gave up on me and looked back to the detective. “Are you arresting Willa, too?”

  “Not yet. We’ll see,” he said, rising creakily. “That’s the beautiful thing about the slow process of the law. Nothing gets done impulsively. There’s always time to stop and think. We’ll present the evidence to the D.A., and then it’ll be up to him. But on the basis of that evidence, we’ll be able to arrest Kip Stanley and take his passport; the evidence was there that he was getting ready to flee. We’ve got the murder weapon now, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why he did it. And why seal up the knife and keep it? That bothers me. It’ll bother a jury, too.” He turned to Michael and me directly. “What do you think – should we arrest Willa Garden now?”

  Michael still looked stunned, but he made an effort: Michael Utley for the defense. “Willa might not even know about the reservations. He may hav
e been planning to abduct her.”

  “Interesting,” the detective said. “How do you abduct an unwilling woman onto a commercial airplane?”

  “Clever manipulation. Even threats. The point is, you don’t know that he wasn’t planning to take her against her will. Under those circumstances, you can’t arrest her.”

  “Not yet,” Bruno said. He turned to me. “What about you? Should we arrest Ms. Garden?”

  “No, don’t,” I said impulsively.

  Bruno was very interested. “Why?”

  “Kip can take care of himself. Willa . . . she’s helpless. Being arrested will break her. And you don’t have any proof that she even knew about what Kip was doing. No, there has to be something else going on here. You’re missing something.”

  He spread his hands. “I’d be happy to hear about it.”

  I stood up so suddenly I nearly upset the little table with the iced tea glasses on it. “I would too.” I moved vaguely into the house, needing something to do that would stop the merry-go-round in my head. Something had popped out at me and then swirled away again. Something about Willa and Kip. I needed to stop thinking for a while so I could grab it. I know that doesn’t make sense, but it’s how the human brain works.

  I went to unpack my overnight bag.

  And to congratulate myself. At least I’d done one thing right. Not giving Carr’s envelope to Bruno had been a good move, though I hadn’t known it at the time. Kip had nothing to do with the Foundation, so whatever was going on there was irrelevant. I would have been betraying Carr, and the cops already knew all that stuff.

  As I worked at unpacking, I got a text from Ed, saying, “Where are you? All hell is breaking loose here! Come back!!!”

  It was almost over. I knew it. It was the only thing that pushed me to keep moving. I texted back, “I’m coming,” and didn’t even ask what hell he’d been referring to. I knew.