She guided Grace into the living room and away from the disturbing scene. "We have to call the police," Connie said, dialing 911 with trembling fingers.
She explained the situation to the operator as calmly as possible for Grace's sake, as well as her own. As the words came out of her mouth, it felt like a dream. This isn’t happening.
"Now they're really going to blame me. Hank is killed in my apartment on Thursday, and today I find Paula dead in hers," Grace said, panic rising in her voice.
"We're going to figure this out, Grace," Connie said in the most confident tone she could manage. "Just don't touch anything."
Now that Grace was away from Paula's body and the police were on their way, Connie looked around the solarium, careful not to disturb anything that could be evidence. She had learned that much from seeing how much care the police took to preserve the crime scene in Grace’s home on Thursday.
Her thoughts flashed to a few days before, when she had been sipping coffee in the living room and talking with Paula about Hank’s death.
Connie examined the front door but didn't see any sign of forced entry. Paula probably invited the killer into the house. Throughout the apartment she couldn't see any indication of his or her presence, except for that one big one - a dead body with a knife in it. She hoped the trained eyes of the police would see something more.
When she finished inspecting the living room and solarium, her eyes made their way to the dining room table, and she noticed a manila folder labeled "2006 - Royal Palm Project".
Knowing the police would be there any minute, Connie quickly pulled a pen from her purse and used it to open the folder, in order to avoid touching anything. In the same way, she carefully spread out the pages on the table, pulled her phone from her pocket, and snapped a picture of each one. She wanted to take a good look at them, since it was the only potential clue she could locate. Then she used the pen again to push the documents back to the way she found them.
Grace sat on the couch in a daze, not paying much attention to what Connie was doing. A couple of minutes later, the first responders arrived, followed shortly after by a police officer. He escorted Connie and Grace outside the apartment, and ran yellow crime scene tape across the doorway. The scene was eerily reminiscent of the one at Grace’s just five days before.
Sergeant Donovan arrived next, followed by Josh and Zach. Josh once again took the women back to Connie’s for questioning. With Grace’s discovery of the second body, he seemed more suspicious of her than ever.
Reliving the experience as she relayed it to Josh seemed to take a toll on Grace, especially after the shock of discovering Paula’s body. When Josh finally left, she appeared exhausted. Connie made some herbal tea, hoping it would help her calm down, and they settled in on the sofa. Ginger once again snuggled against Grace. How much could this poor woman take?
While Ginger was comforting Grace, Connie pulled out her cell phone and looked over the photos she had snapped. They appeared to be some type of record of one of Hank's development projects.
"Grace, do you know anything about a 'Royal Palm Project?'"
"Huh? Oh, yes, that was one of Hank's disasters. A lot of us lost money on that, including your aunt. But it wasn't really Hank's fault. It should have been a solid investment."
"What happened?"
"Oh, it was this development in a gated community in Naples. A bunch of us went in on it, purchasing condos pre-development or splitting the cost of a condo. Within a few years, the value was supposed to shoot up. And it would have, if it weren’t for the Chinese drywall."
Connie vaguely remembered hearing about Chinese drywall years ago. "Didn't that have something to do with Hurricane Katrina?"
Grace nodded that it did. "After Hurricane Katrina, there was a shortage of drywall in the area because of all the rebuilding taking place after the storm. So, some contractors got their drywall from China, where there was an abundance. Unfortunately, the Chinese drywall was defective. It was made with sulfur and basically smelled like rotten eggs, but nobody realized it until after it was installed, and the projects were complete. Many investors and homeowners lost a load of money as a result."
The conversation seemed to distract Grace from the murders. Connie folded her hands behind her head and leaned against the back of the sofa. "It was so long ago, why would Paula have been looking at the file for the project just before she died?"
"She could have been organizing old files, now that Hank is gone."
"Maybe, but it seems strange that there would only be one folder out." Connie continued to scan the documents. "Who else lost money on that project?"
"Let me see, it was so long ago. Hank and Paula had just moved into the building, and we were all just getting to know each other back then. They owned a number of units, but besides them, there was Concetta, myself, and some of Hank's friends - Bob and Roger, I think. That's all that I know of, but there were probably a lot more."
"Elyse mentioned that Bob is on a fixed income. I'm surprised he had money to invest."
"That's true," Grace said with a chuckle. "Bob's a nice guy but cheaper than dirt. He and his then-wife, Debbie, bought a unit as an investment. They lived in it for a while with their daughter, Amanda, until they discovered, with the rest of us, that the drywall was defective."
Connie closed the camera on her phone and tossed it onto the coffee table. It seemed their deaths were as intertwined as their lives had once been. She tried to think of a possible motive that would connect the two victims but came up dry.
"Do you know why Hank and Paula both lived in the same building, even though they were divorced?" she asked. Perhaps learning more about the former couple would help her make some type of connection. "I would think that would be kind of awkward."
"From what I remember, they had bought a second unit in Palm Paradise as an investment, along with the penthouse where they lived together with their two sons. When they divorced, their boys were still teenagers, so it made sense for them to be in the same building. I guess they just adjusted."
"Their poor sons," Connie said, realizing they had tragically lost both parents within a week.
After they finished their tea, Grace left. Monday was Stephanie's day off, and they had plans to relax on the beach. Connie had promised to come down to say hello, hoping it might be a good chance to try to get Stephanie's take on everything.
When Grace left, Connie jumped in the shower and put on some comfortable clothes before taking Ginger for her overdue morning walk. Then she got to work packing and labeling boxes. After only a few days' work, there wasn't a whole lot more to get done. She had to pack up the kitchen and bring the boxes to the thrift shop, but that could be done on Friday. The rest - the furniture and the paintings on the walls - would stay for the showings. She would take care of those when she came back one final time for the closing. With two bodies now, one having been her prime suspect, it seemed like she would never get the place on the market.
Chapter 13
After lunch, Connie looked down onto the beach from her balcony and spotted Grace and Stephanie relaxing on lounge chairs. She threw on a bathing suit and beach cover-up, grabbed a towel, and headed downstairs to join them. She was taken aback when saw the dark circles under Stephanie's eyes. It looked as if she hadn't slept well in days.
"I was just going to go for a walk," Connie said. "Would you ladies like to join me?"
"You two go ahead. I'm perfect right where I am," Grace said as she lifted her face toward the sunshine.
Connie left her towel on the sand, and she and Stephanie strolled along the water's edge. A cluster of sandpipers scrambled away as the women made their way down the coastline.
Since Stephanie had lived in Ohio and only recently moved to Sapphire Beach, the two had never met before Thursday, but Connie remembered Concetta telling her that Grace's daughter had moved to the area after her marriage ended last year. It had been a rough divorce, and, judging from her appearance, the past
few days had been no picnic, either.
"How do you like living in Florida?" Connie asked.
"It's been amazing," she said. "Can you believe it's January, and we're walking the beach in our bathing suits?"
Connie thought of Ashley and Travis. It seemed that anyone who relocated to the area spoke of it as if they had stumbled upon some amazing treasure that they couldn't keep from sharing.
"Yeah, it's pretty special here." Connie had never been a huge fan of the cold, although she didn't mind it as much as some. The first snowfall of the year was thrilling, maybe even the second and third. But the seemingly endless winter months that followed got old pretty fast in Connie's book.
"It's like paradise." The creases returned to Stephanie's forehead. "At least it usually is."
"How is your mother holding up? I can't imagine going out for a bike ride and returning to find out someone was killed in my home, and then, five days later, discovering the body of a friend."
"To be honest, I'm concerned about her. Losing Concetta was obviously hard on her, but to have this all happen on the wake of her best friend's illness and death might just be too much."
Connie allowed the waves, which were crashing on her legs, to soothe her spirit.
"My mother has always been so strong in the face of adversity. She was a rock for me when I went through my divorce, but she seems to be withdrawing now. Somehow I get the feeling something else might be bothering her."
"Do you think she knows something about the murders that she is not saying?"
Stephanie smiled. "I doubt that. My mother is as honest as they come. She wouldn't hold anything back, even if it would make her look guilty. I don't know. I can't put my finger on it, it's just a hunch I guess."
Connie stopped and placed her hand on Stephanie's arm. "After all Grace has done for my family, I hope you know I would do anything to help her."
Stephanie thanked her with a warm smile. "I know that, and so does she."
"I just wish we could figure out what Hank was doing in her apartment on Thursday."
Stephanie eyes darted nervously ahead, and she abruptly started walking again.
“Wait up,” Connie said, wondering what she had said wrong. She was struggling to keep up with Stephanie’s quicker pace, when she looked ahead and noticed two attractive, middle-aged women relaxing on lounge chairs and looking in their direction. One of them called out, "Stephanie, is that you, dear? Look, Joyce, it's Grace's daughter Stephanie." The ladies got up from their chairs and headed in their direction.
"Hi Rita. Rita, Joyce, this is my friend, Connie. Connie, these are my mother's faithful workout buddies. How have you ladies been?" Stephanie asked.
Connie hoped she looked as good as they did when she was in her sixties.
"Wonderful," Rita said. "But we miss your mother. We were so disappointed when she dropped out of the mini-triathlon. She didn't seem sick when we ran into her in town last week, but we know she's been through a lot lately, so we didn't press it. Is she feeling any better?"
Stephanie shot Connie a sideways glance. "Do you mean she hasn't been working out lately?"
"Not for the past couple of months. At least not with us."
Stephanie's tan complexion grew pale. "She's just been a little tired lately. I'm sure she'll be back training just as soon as she catches up on some rest. I'll be sure to tell her you were asking for her," Stephanie said, ushering Connie back in the direction of Palm Paradise.
"It was nice to meet you," Connie said over her shoulder.
They walked in silence until they were safely out of earshot. "Stephanie, didn't Grace say she was training for the mini-triathlon on Thursday when Hank was killed?" Connie asked.
Stephanie nodded. "Now I'm getting scared."
“I was hesitant to mention this before, but since Grace said she biked through the downtown area on her way to Sapphire Beach National Park for her training the day Hank was killed, the police checked the footage of the downtown stores with cameras, and Grace was nowhere to be found.”
“There has to be an explanation. Maybe she just didn’t pass any stores with cameras,” Stephanie said. “There’s no way my mother would kill anyone, Connie. You know that.”
When they got back to where Grace was sunbathing, the women sat down next to her and pretended to take in the sun.
"So, how is training going for the triathlon, Mom?" Stephanie asked.
Grace shifted in her chair. "The triathlon, yeah, um, I've been doing my long bike rides on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I try to do a little swimming and running on other days. Sometimes I train with Joyce and Rita. That reminds me, maybe I'll swim some laps now." She avoided eye contact and hastily made her way into the water. After going out a short distance, she began swimming laps without looking back.
“Well, you're right about one thing," Connie said. "She's a terrible liar."
"I know she couldn't have been involved in murder, but we have to figure out what she's hiding."
"Tomorrow is Tuesday. We could always follow her to see where she goes. Can you get a couple of hours off work at the time she normally leaves for her supposed bike ride?" Connie asked, not sure how hard it was for a physical therapist to rearrange appointments.
"No problem,” Stephanie said. “I have the day off tomorrow. I took a personal day so I could attend the memorial service in the morning, and, since I had the time coming to me anyway, I decided to take the whole day off."
Connie had nearly forgotten about the service scheduled to take place in the function room of Palm Paradise the following morning. Originally, it had been organized for Hank, but in light of Paula's death yesterday, Connie heard that the trustees adjusted the program to remember her, as well.
"I want to be there for my mother in case anybody decides to be unkind," Stephanie added. "You never know if the gossipers of Palm Paradise will give her a hard time, because she is connected to both murders. She insists on attending, and I don't blame her. She considered Paula a friend and she feels she has every right to be there. Besides, it might cause her to appear guilty if she doesn't go."
"They better not give her any trouble, or they can answer to you and me both." Connie put on her best protective expression. "Let's exchange cell phone numbers in case we lose each other. We can meet up after the service and follow her to see where she goes."
***
Later that night, while bringing Ginger for a walk, Connie decided to explore some of the side streets off the boulevard. Sapphire Beach Boulevard stretched the length of the entire town, running along the beach. The condominiums and larger single-family homes were located on the beach side, with most of the restaurants and hotels closer to the downtown area. Smaller streets, lined with cottages and other residences, ran adjacent to the main boulevard on the other side. Palm Paradise was situated in the middle of the town, about halfway between where the boulevard began and the downtown area, which was at the opposite end.
Ginger was in doggie heaven, sniffing every bit of vegetation they passed, while Connie admired the unique mailboxes of the Sapphire Beach neighborhoods, which she had always loved. Various sea creatures - dolphins, seahorses, manatees and even the occasional mermaid - not only held the day’s mail, but proudly greeted passersby.
They strolled down a quiet side street just across from Palm Paradise. The temperature was a comfortable seventy degrees, and the sound of clattering dishes floated through some of the open kitchen windows.
As she turned around to make her way back down the street, Connie saw a figure stir in the bushes in front of a nearby house. She pulled Ginger around and worked her way back toward the boulevard, trying to ignore the haunting feeling that someone was following her.
As she continued, she heard footsteps in the distance and turned around quickly. She spotted a man in white shorts and a sky-blue polo shirt who appeared to be out for a stroll. Maybe that was what she had heard. Her imagination must have gotten the best of her. Just to play it safe, she walked Ging
er back toward Palm Paradise.
When she returned to the main boulevard, there was no sign of polo-shirt-guy. She ventured a short distance along the boulevard but remained in a populated area, so Ginger wouldn't get shortchanged on her walk.
A few people were milling around in the lobby when she returned. While she was heading toward the elevator, she spotted Roger checking his mail. She froze when she saw he was wearing white shorts and a sky-blue polo.
The weight of her stare must have caused him to turn around.
"Hi, Roger. Was that you down on Wave Way?"
"Yeah, I thought that might have been you. I was out for a walk trying to work off some of the junk food I've been eating lately," he said, patting his stomach.
She looked at him incredulously. If he had just been out for a walk, why was he hiding in the bushes?
He took a step closer and looked straight into her eyes, holding her gaze. "Look, Connie, I would suggest you stop asking around about the murders. You need to leave it alone, or you could get hurt.” He leaned in. “Do you understand?" At this point, his face was well into her personal space. Clearly some of the junk food he'd been trying to work off contained garlic.
She took a step back, and he pressed the elevator button. "Going up?" he asked.
"No, I have to check my mail." She didn't want to be alone with him a second longer, so she waited for the elevator to ascend before pressing the up button for herself and Ginger.
When Connie got back upstairs, she was still feeling a bit on edge from her encounter with Roger, so she decided to do the one thing she knew would help her to relax. She went into Concetta’s scrapbooking room, set up the folding table, and pulled out her jewelry-making supplies.
As the soon-to-be maid of honor to her best friend, Beth, Connie had promised to make necklaces, bracelets, and earrings for the bridal party for the wedding next month, and she had brought the materials to Sapphire Beach to work on the final set. She pulled out the assortment of pearls and crystal beads that Beth had chosen and arranged them on the beading mat. Beth had trusted Connie with the designs, and she was pleased with how they were coming along. Each set would be similar, yet unique. Connie had kept each woman in mind while making her particular pieces and couldn’t wait to give her jewelry to them.
Sapphire Beach Cozy Mystery Collection Page 7