The Corpse Wore Cashmere

by Sylvia Rochester

  “Not too good,” he grumbled.

  “Should have worn your hat,” she said with a teasing grin. “It might have brought you good luck. Have you heard any more news on your dad?”

  “I just talked to the nurse. He’s doing okay. She said she’ll call me if there’s any change.”

  Together the five of them joined a throng of people heading for the ballroom. When the cannon fired, Wesley grabbed Susan.

  She laughed. “Scared me too, the first time I heard it. It’s part of the show. We’d better hurry. It’s started.” Susan led them to a table. “I think you’ll like it. They do a terrific job.”

  To her surprise, the show had a different ending. This time the captain of the defeated ship was made to walk the plank.

  “Should we free him?” the captor bellowed to the audience.

  “No,” the crowd roared back.

  “What if he buys your first round of drinks?”

  “Aye,” the crowd shouted.

  The captor tossed a bag to the bartender. “Here’s his booty of gold. Take what ye need.”

  The crowd erupted in cheers, and the music started playing.

  When the silk screens dropped and converted the room into a huge tavern, Wesley hiked his eyebrows, and his mouth curled into a smile. “That was some show, all right, but all these people make me edgy—too easy for someone to hide among them.”

  “You don’t think Randy would be so brazen as to show up here, do you?”

  “After he blew up his boat, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

  A young woman in scanty attire sidled up to Dylan. “Please, sir, may I have this dance?” she asked with a sultry voice.

  Dylan stood and bowed, his eyes lingering on her bosom. “My pleasure.”

  “What can I say? The man’s a chick magnet,” Wesley whispered.

  “Come on, Jack. They’re playing our song,” A. K. said, tugging him up from his chair.

  Susan gave Wesley a questioning look. “Are we just going to sit here?”

  He rose and extended his hand. “I never pass up a chance to hold you close.” Taking her in his arms, they danced their way around the room.

  The music and the feel of Wesley’s body next to hers acted like an aphrodisiac, wiping away all thoughts of the case. Nothing mattered except that she and Wesley were together. She wished the moment could last forever, but it didn’t. Standing by the door, the one that exited onto the beach, was a man dressed as Blackbeard. She froze, bringing Wesley to a halt.

  “What’s wrong?”

  A knot formed in Susan’s throat. All she could do was point. “There…by the door,” she finally croaked. “It’s him.” The memory of being dragged down the sidewalk flooded her mind. Her chest tightened, and her breath came in short gasps.

  Wesley looked in the direction she pointed. “There’s no one there.”

  Susan’s fingers dug into Wesley’s arm. “I could have sworn I saw him.” Her voice quivered.

  “Then we’d better have a look.” He peeled back her fingers and wrapped his own around her arm. “Stay close.”

  She balked at going after the man, but was helpless against Wesley’s strength. They entered the hall surrounding the ballroom. It was empty. Wesley opened the door to the beach. Nothing.

  “If someone was here, he’s gone now,” Wesley said. “Blackbeard, you say? I see at least three others on the floor in that costume. It could have been anyone. One thing’s for sure. I’m with you now, and no one’s going to get you alone.”

  Susan’s racing heart began to slow, and her breathing returned to normal. Back at their table, Wesley used his napkin and dabbed at perspiration that crawled down her temples. “Sorry, I let my imagination get the best of me. Of course, it couldn’t have been Randy. He’s not so stupid as to show up here.”

  Wesley nodded. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Susan spied Sam tending bar. “I’ll go with you. I want you to meet someone.”

  Sam met her with his usual greeting. “Hello, there, costume lady. I hear you’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

  “Got to get back to my real job. Sam, this is Wesley. He’s a detective from Palmetto.”

  The men shook hands.

  “I want to thank you for helping Susan,” Wesley said. “I owe you. If you’re ever down my way and need help, give me a call.” He handed Sam his card.

  Sam gave it a quick glance. “Thanks, good to know. So what’ll it be?”

  Wesley ordered their drinks then turned his attention to Susan. “You okay now?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, although her stomach still fluttered.

  “I’m going to miss you,” a voice said, tapping her on the shoulder. Miguel stepped into view. “This must be Wesley.”

  Susan made the introductions. “You’ve been a great help to me. If you ever decide to leave the Gulf Coast, you’d make a terrific salesman in the costume shop.”

  “Thanks, but Palmetto sounds a little too laid back for me.” He chuckled. “Give me a ring when you’re ready to check out. I’ll have someone load your van.”

  “No need. We have three strong men who can handle that.” Susan leaned over and kissed Miguel on the cheek. “Thanks again for everything.”

  “It’s been a pleasure. Take care of this lady,” he said to Wesley as he disappeared into the crowd.

  Wesley paid for their drinks and carried them back to their table. The song had ended, and everyone had cleared the dance floor. A. K. sat at the table. Dylan and Jack were nowhere in sight.

  “Where’s Jack?” Susan asked A. K.

  “Getting us a drink.”

  “I guess Dylan found a dance partner for the night,” Wesley said.

  “Maybe more than one,” A. K. said. She pointed out Dylan, who sat at a table with three other women.

  Jack returned with their drinks, which went down like water. On the first beat of the next song, they were on the dance floor.

  “I’m glad we have this time together, even if it is under such dire circumstances,” Wesley said.

  Susan answered by squeezing his hand. Any time spent with Wesley was good.

  Around midnight, Susan and Wesley told A. K. and Jack goodnight. Holding her hand, Wesley led her to the elevators. As they stepped off on the second floor, Wesley’s phone rang.

  “Where? I’ll be right there.”

  “What is it?” Susan asked.

  “They found Randy. He’s dead.”

  Chapter 11

  “Stay in your room and lock the door. I’ll call you when I know something.” Wesley rushed toward the stairs.

  “I’m going with you,” Susan said, grabbing hold of his arm.

  “But—”

  “No buts. You and Dylan can’t interfere, so there’s no reason why I can’t go with you.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Susan stopped and put her hands on her hips. “You’re not leaving me behind. If I have to, I’ll follow in my van.”

  “You are one determined woman.”

  “You got that right.”

  Wesley punched in Dylan’s number. “Meet me at the front door.”

  “I can’t hear with the music,” Dylan said. “Say again.”

  “Randy’s dead. Meet me out front,” Wesley shouted. He slipped the phone into his pocket.

  Once outside, Susan pulled back on Wesley’s arm. “Wow, look at the rain,” Susan said as they exited the hotel. With all the noise in the ballroom, she’d had no idea a storm was underway. The downpour blew sideway in sheets, and water lapped over the curbs.

  “Wait here. I’ll bring the truck around,” Wesley said. He made a mad dash to the parking lot.

  Susan stepped back closer to the hotel’s entrance to avoid the blowing rain. A few moments later, Wesley pulled under the covered entrance.

  Dylan joined Susan, who was hurrying to get into Wesley’s truck. He held open the passenger door for her then climbed into the back seat of the quad-cab.
Susan shook her head, sending out a fine spray of water. “I’m not exactly dressed for this kind of weather,” she said, rubbing her arms and looking down at her skimpy outfit.

  “I’ve got a windbreaker somewhere back there, Dylan. See if you can find it. I should also have a towel or a rag,” Wesley said.

  “Here you go.” Dylan handed the jacket to Susan. “This rag doesn’t look too clean, but it’ll dry you off,” he said to Wesley. “So what exactly happened to Randy?”

  “Kerry didn’t give any details, only that they found his body in a seedy hotel about two miles south of Gulfport.”

  “Murder or suicide?” Dylan asked.

  “I have no idea. Neither would surprise me,” Wesley said.

  Dylan gave a disgusted sigh. “Guess that brings our case to an end.”

  “I hope so,” Wesley said. “If the blood and hair evidence is a DNA match to Lorraine, it should be enough to establish culpability. Isn’t that what we wanted? We don’t have to have a trial to get justice.”

  Dylan leaned over the seat. “Yeah, but his death leaves lots of unanswered questions. Why did he kill Lorraine? Did he act alone? Was he hired to kill her? If so, who hired him and why?” Dylan nudged Wesley’s shoulder with his elbow. “What if Randy was murdered?”

  “Your dad and Kerry will have to deal with that. He’s no longer our problem.”

  The short ride to Gulfport seemed to take forever. With the windshield wipers counting down the seconds, Susan thought about the questions Dylan had raised. She’d like to know the answers too. “Another thing bugs me. How’d Randy manage to stay hidden? Didn’t the police show his picture to all motels up and down the coast?”

  “I’m sure they did,” Wesley said. “Maybe someone was covering for him. Okay, we’re leaving Gulfport city limits. Keep your eyes peeled for the Silver Sands motel.”

  “I don’t see a sign,” Susan said a few minutes later, “but I do see flashing blue lights. That must be the police.”

  Wesley pulled into the parking lot and next to a marked unit. Only then did he notice the small neon sign that said vacancy. The motel was a one-story cinderblock structure. An EMS vehicle, the coroner’s van, and two more police units had gathered in front of the last room on the right. Yellow tape cordoned off the room and surrounded a car parked out front. Kerry stood in the opened doorway.

  “I’ll give Kerry a call and let him know we’re here,” Wesley said. A few minutes later he hung up his phone.

  “Well?” Dylan asked.

  “They’re about to wrap up their initial investigation. He said he’d meet us in the lobby.” Wesley backed out his Tundra and pulled closer to the motel’s entrance.

  The rain had slacked and now came down in a steady drizzle. The three of them hurried from the truck. Once inside, Dylan and Susan brushed off the water. Wesley didn’t bother. He was still wet from running to get the truck at the Pirates’ Reef.

  “Can I help you?” the man behind the front desk asked in a grumpy and unenthusiastic voice.

  “No, thanks. We’re waiting for one of the deputies,” Wesley said.

  The man leaned over the counter and looked down toward Randy’s room. “I wish they’d hurry and get through with what they’re doing. All those flashing lights will scare off customers.”

  Susan studied the overweight man’s ruddy complexion. That a man lay dead in one of his rooms didn’t seem to bother him, only that the motel might lose money.

  “We might as well have a seat,” Wesley said.

  The lobby, or at least the area designated as such, wasn’t much bigger than Susan’s bedroom. Stains covered the brown vinyl upholstery on the sofa and two overstuffed chairs. She could imagine all sorts of nasty little critters crawling around inside. This place was crawling with germs. No telling what diseases were hidden between the pages of dog-eared magazines scattered atop the end tables. “I’ll stand, if you don’t mind,” she said to Wesley.

  “Can’t say I blame you.”

  The front door opened, and Kerry hustled through, brushing water from his poncho. He motioned with his head for them to move further into the room, away from the obviously curious desk clerk. “How’s Chief Powell?” he asked Dylan.

  “Doing better. They’re going to run some tests.”

  “That’s good to hear. Now, about Randy, the coroner’s initial assessment is suicide. There was no forced entry, and a .38 caliber Ruger was beside him on the bed. I’m pretty sure ballistics will confirm it’s the murder weapon. The serial number has been removed, so there’s no way to trace it. Odds are we’ll find only Randy’s prints on the gun.”

  “It’s all rather convenient, don’t you think?” Wesley asked. He repeated the questions Dylan had raised in the truck. Then after a nudge from Susan, he asked, “I know you were checking everywhere for Randy, so I assumed you investigated this place, showed Randy’s photo.”

  “Of course we did, but that old codger behind the desk said he never saw Randy.”

  “He rented Randy a room, didn’t he?” Dylan asked.

  “No, he rented the room to a woman. Never saw anyone with her.”

  “Who was she?” Dylan asked.

  “All he knows was that she was middle-aged with brown hair. Too bad they don’t have security cameras. She paid cash for several nights, and he didn’t ask any questions.”

  “What name did she give?” Wesley asked.

  “Marilyn Monroe.” Kerry’s mouth curled into a smirk. “It’s that kind of place. He did write down her license plate. He said she left shortly after renting the room and never returned. We had no problem locating Ms. Marilyn Monroe. Marilyn is a rich old lady who’s a frequent visitor at the Pirates’ Reef Casino. She said she rented the room for Randy as a favor.

  “Deputies also questioned the owner of the car found out front. She said she loaned it to Randy as a favor. We’re pretty sure neither knew anything about Randy being wanted for murder. Seems Randy had a harem of old broads. Oh, well, it takes all kinds.”

  “I’m assuming no one heard anything, and that there are no witnesses,” Wesley said.

  “You’re right on both counts. You can see how far away the room is from here, and the rooms next to Randy’s are vacant.”

  “Who discovered the body?” Wesley asked.

  “The cleaning woman. She said that even though he had a ‘do not disturb sign’ on the door, after a couple of days, she decided he must need fresh towels. When she couldn’t get anyone to answer the door, she let herself in. She went ballistic. We like to never have calmed her down enough to answer our questions.”

  “How long has Randy been dead?” Dylan asked.

  “Coroner estimates twelve hours or less. The autopsy will give us a more definitive time.” Kerry shook his head. “Can you believe we found a pirate’s costume and a woman’s long, blonde wig in his room? I’m guessing pretty boy used the wig when he went somewhere in the borrowed car.”

  “Yeah, like when he drove to the Sea Side Marina to set off the bomb. He had to have used a disposable cell phone for the detonator,” Dylan said.

  “We’re still working that angle,” Kerry said. “And I’m still convinced someone must have helped Randy with the bomb.”

  “Where’s your morgue?” Wesley asked.

  Kerry laughed. “What morgue, city boy? We’re not there yet. However, we do have one under construction. For now, we send all bodies to a funeral home where a forensic pathologist conducts the autopsy. I’ll send you a copy of his report.”

  “Kerry, you know my dad’s getting up in age. I’m optimistic Dad will make a full recovery, but even if he does, it’s going to take him a while to get up to full speed. I think it’s time he starts thinking about retiring. I’m going to talk with him about that. You ever think about running for sheriff? I know he thinks the world of you, and should he decide to retire, I’m sure he’d back you. Until then, I’m glad you’ll be here to look after him.”

  Kerry put his arm around Dylan’s should
er. “We’ve always looked after each other,” he said, clearing his throat. “Are y’all still leaving in the morning?”

  “If we want to keep our jobs,” Wesley said. “There’s nothing we can do here. Randy’s death is all yours.”

  “I’ll be back Tuesday or Wednesday to check Dad out of the hospital if all goes well. I want to make sure he gets settled and has all the help he’ll need,” Dylan said.

  Kerry looked from Wesley to Susan. “Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. You’re always welcome.”

  As they walked back to the truck, Susan moved closer to Wesley and slid her arm around his waist. “I’m glad it’s over…glad things will get back to normal,” she whispered.

  It might have been over, but Wesley and Dylan continued to discuss Randy’s death all the way back to the Pirates’ Reef. Suicide or murder, Randy’s death would officially close their case. It’d be up to Mississippi to investigate Randy’s death. If they were ever to get answers to their questions, it would have to come through them.

  “I can’t believe we got so close to bringing him back, only to have a door slammed in our face,” Wesley said.

  “Me either. And I don’t buy that Randy’s death was a suicide. That wimp didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger. On the other hand, pretty boy knew what he’d face in prison.”

  The rain stopped, and the wiper blades screeched across the windshield. Wesley turned them off and drummed his fingers atop the steering wheel. “I’m with you, Dylan. I don’t think it was a suicide, either. Neither do I think he built the bomb. His profile isn’t one of a consummate criminal. It takes training and skill to construct a bomb like the one that blew up his boat. He had to have had help. I hate it that we’re left with more questions than answers.”

  Susan didn’t comment, but she agreed with their assessment. She had unanswered questions of her own. Lorraine’s remains had been recovered not long after she saw the woman’s face beneath the water, but the vision of the bright light remained a mystery. And since she had first seen it in Palmetto, it must have something to do with Lorraine’s case.