The Corpse Wore Cashmere

by Sylvia Rochester

  “I had to agree with him. We talked about Randy, and I had the feeling Dad was suspicious about his death too. But he didn’t give me any specifics. I told him I had to report back to my chief tomorrow morning, but that I’d be back later in the day. Chief Smith won’t be too happy, but I want to be with Dad when he’s discharged, make sure he has everything he’ll need. Don’t know if he can stand my cooking and housekeeping for a few days, but he’s going to have to try.”

  “I’m glad he’s doing well,” Susan said.

  A. K.’s voice rose over the babbling of the crowd. “What’s this, the meeting of Palmetto’s finest?”

  “It is now that you’ve arrived,” Susan said, standing and giving her a bow. “How about the finest march their buns upstairs and pack the costumes?”

  “Piece of cake,” A. K. said, “especially since we sold most of the merchandise. Most of the leftover costumes should fit on the garment racks. You guys can haul down any leftover boxes and those containing the accessories. Susan and I will bring the racks down in the elevator and roll them to the front entrance. When everything is assembled, we’ll load the van.”

  Dylan clicked his heels together and saluted. “Yes, my general,” he barked, which resulted in A. K. giving him an elbow to the ribs. Everyone laughed.

  They emptied the kiosk in less than thirty minutes and had everything assembled at the front entrance for loading.

  “Did you forget your cash box?” Wesley asked Susan.

  “I packed it in my suitcase. It looks like we have everything. Let’s load the van and get on the road.”

  “I’ll bring it around,” A. K. said, jangling the keys. “Come with me, Jack. It’s on the last row in the parking lot.” She and Jack dodged departing guests and strolled arm in arm across the entrance toward the parking area.

  “Just how serious are those two?” Wesley asked.

  “My money’s on a wedding…or an elopement. Neither would surprise me,” Susan said.

  While Wesley and Dylan moved the racks and boxes to the curb, Susan stepped back to get out of their way. What about us? she thought, watching Wesley. How close are we to making a final commitment? She didn’t doubt that they loved each other, but was that enough? She didn’t want to be like Melanie, who had lost her husband, Terrance, because of some crazed meth addict. She remembered when she’d heard about the incident on the radio. She knew Terrance was Wesley’s partner. Her heart seemed to stop beating, not knowing whether Wesley was alive or dead. A little bit of her had died that day. Would she ever be ready to take a chance with Wesley?

  A. K. and Jack were nearing the van when Susan suddenly had a premonition. Something evil slithered into her mind. Her eyes burned as she saw a vision of Randy. He was an eyeless specter with skin sloughing from his face and the stench of death oozing from his image. He was there, in the parking lot, waiting beside the van, a trident in his hand. Slowly, he drew back his arm and took aim at A. K.

  Susan stumbled backwards, breaking the spell. “Stop them! They’re in danger.” She shoved Wesley and pointed toward A. K. and Jack.

  Wesley didn’t hesitate. He bolted across the parking lot with Dylan right behind him. “Stop!”

  A. K. and Jack turned.

  “What’s—”

  Before A. K. could finish her sentence, Wesley had A. K. by the arm and was hurrying her back toward the hotel. Dylan and Jack raced after them.

  “No time to explain,” Wesley said to A. K. then shouted at the few people standing nearby. “Get out of here! Now!” He looked back at Dylan. “Keep everyone out of the parking lot.”

  Even before Wesley reached the hotel entrance, he was on the phone to Kerry. “I only got a glimpse of the van, but it was messed up pretty bad with graffiti. Something’s wrong. I don’t know if there’s a bomb on board or not, but you need to get someone over here and check it out.” Wesley nodded and hung up the phone. “Kerry said it isn’t his jurisdiction,” he said to Susan, “but he’ll get someone on it. In the meantime, he wants me to keep the public out of the way.”

  Susan rushed to A. K. and hugged her tight. “I’m sorry, but I thought something terrible was going to happen to you and Jack. I—”

  “You don’t have to explain to me,” A. K. said, returning the hug.

  Susan lowered her voice. “I had a fleeting vision of Randy.” She glanced at Wesley, who narrowed his eyes.

  “And?” he said.

  She described his ghastly appearance. “He took aim at A. K. with a trident.”

  A. K. cringed and wrapped her arms around Jack’s waist. “And to think I dated a javelin thrower in high school.”

  That was typical of A. K., always trying to make light of a dire situation. It was her way of coping.

  “Forget about high school. What I saw was something truly morbid, something beyond the grave,” Susan said.

  The sounds of sirens pierced the air. Several units of the Biloxi Police Department came to a screeching halt near the entrance. Kerry pulled in alongside them and brought the officer in charge over and introduced everyone.

  “This is Officer Bob Hoke; he’s in charge.” Kerry pointed to Wesley. “Wesley’s a homicide detective with the Hammond, Louisiana, Sheriff’s Department. He pointed to Dylan. “Wesley’s partner, Dylan, is Chief Powell’s son. The suspect in their Louisiana murder case was Randy Harper. You probably heard we found him dead in a hotel room in Gulfport, but not before he blew up his boat and nearly blew me and another deputy up with it.

  “Louisiana had a warrant out for Randy’s arrest, and Chief Powell gave Wesley and Dylan permission to observe as a courtesy. So much for that.”

  Officer Hoke looked past Kerry and into the parking lot. “You said there was the possibility of a bomb onboard a van.”

  “It’s the white van at the back of the parking lot, the one with graffiti all over it.” Wesley nodded at Susan and A. K. “Ms. Griffin and Ms. Williams here rented the vehicle. The other night, Ms. Griffin was abducted from the festival by a man in costume but managed to get away. I believe Randy was behind the attempted kidnapping. Considering Ms. Griffin’s encounter and the boat explosion, there’s the possibility Randy could have rigged the van with explosives before his death.”

  The officer nodded. “I’ll have my men check it out. Who has the keys to the van in case we need to gain entry?”

  A. K. handed them over.

  Deputies from the Biloxi Police Department cordoned off the parking lot, and others kept the traffic and pedestrians clear of the area.

  Kerry followed Officer Hoke for a few feet then stopped when the officer looked back at him.

  “I’ve got it from here,” he said to Kerry.

  Kerry turned and headed back to the hotel’s entrance. As he did, the sun struck the badge on his pocket. It was a miniature of what Susan had been seeing. Tiny streaks of light spiraled outward from the star’s five points. That’s it, she thought. The blinding light represented Kerry’s badge. It wasn’t meant as a warning, just the opposite. Kerry was there to help her, to protect her when Wesley couldn’t.

  Mr. Fleming pushed his way through the gawking crowd and confronted Officer Hoke, who was pointing out the van for the bomb squad. After being briefed, Mr. Fleming appeared extremely nervous and seemed relieved when Miguel volunteered to stand watch and report back to him. With a quick nod to the guests, Mr. Fleming hurried back inside the hotel. Hecule Poirot he wasn’t.

  Susan edged closer to Wesley. “Do you really think there might be a bomb on board?”

  “We can’t take any chances.”

  She slipped her hand into his. “I love you,” she whispered.

  He smile and mouthed that he loved her too.

  About forty minutes later, Susan heard an engine rumble to a start in the parking lot.

  Office Hoke approached them. “It’s clear,” he said to Kerry, “except for the graffiti. Ms. Williams, we’ll leave the keys in the van.”

  A deputy drove the vehicle to the front of
the parking lot and into a space nearest the hotel. Susan’s mouth dropped. The once white-paneled van now resembled a billboard. The painting of a skull sat atop a grave. It seemed to stare at her with its black, hollow eyes. A flat marble marker at the head of the grave carried one word—You! But it wasn’t the skull or the tombstone that sent shivers down Susan’s spine. It was the trident staked in the ground beside the grave.

  Questions flooded Susan’s mind. Who did this? When? Was it Randy the night he dragged her from the ballroom or was someone else involved? Either way, she got the message—stop interfering or you’re next. But surely the message no longer applied. Randy was dead. The investigation was over.

  Biloxi deputies continued questioning the guests. From what she could make out, no one had seen anything, and there were no cameras in the area of the van.

  “I’ll file an incident report about the graffiti,” the officer said, handing her a card with his name and contact number. “Call me in a couple of days, and I’ll see that you get a copy for insurance purposes.”

  Both Wesley and Susan thanked him, and he motioned to his men that their job here was finished.

  Kerry turned to Miguel and asked if he could get some of his bellhops to try to remove the graffiti.

  “Let’s hope they didn’t use permanent paint,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He hurried into the hotel.

  “My guess is that this is some kid playing a prank,” Kerry said.

  Susan knew better.

  Thank goodness the paint came off with a minimal amount of effort. At least she and A. K. wouldn’t have to spring for a paint job. That would have wiped out all their profit.

  “I’d better touch base with the manager before I leave,” Kerry said. “Let him know I’m available if he needs me for something in the future.”

  Susan spotted Mr. Fleming. He was watching from the safety of the lobby. “I need to talk with him too—reassure him there are no hard feelings, and that we’d like an invitation for next year’s festival.”

  A. K. nodded her approval. “By all means, we don’t want a little paint to sabotage this gold mine.”

  “Bring our things closer, and I’ll pull the van to the front,” Jack said.

  A. K. rolled a garment rack curbside, while Wesley and Dylan began dragging out the boxes.

  Susan had her eye on Mr. Fleming. “Looks like Kerry’s through talking with Mr. Fleming. I won’t be but a minute.”

  As she hurried into the hotel lobby, Kerry was coming out. Their shoulders brushed against one another. His touch set her head to spinning. She grabbed the back of a chair to keep from falling, but that didn’t stop the world from turning around. Not now, she thought and pleaded in silence with the oncoming vision. There’s nothing more to see. It’s all over.

  Whatever it was wasn’t going to be denied. The crowd disappeared, and images began to form in her mind. As if looking through a fog, an eerie scene slowly came into view.

  Susan found herself in a cemetery surrounded by moss-draped live oaks. The smell of newly turned dirt hung in the air. She looked down to find herself standing graveside. Only a few flowers lay scattered near a flat headstone. If there had been any mourners, none were present now. Only two people remained—Betty Sue and Kerry, both on the opposite side of the grave within a few feet of her, but both seemed oblivious to her presence.

  “I can’t believe Randy didn’t see what was coming,” Kerry said. “You should have seen him in that motel. He begged and pleaded with me. What an idiot. He really believed you were going to let him off the hook once he got rid of Lorraine.” Kerry shook his head and kicked at the dirt. “I still don’t understand why you forked out money to bury him. Been me, I’d have let him have a pauper’s burial.”

  Betty Sue smoothed her hair from her face. “He was one of my employees. What would the public think? Burying him was the least I could do. Besides, he did make me a lot of money. If only he hadn’t been so greedy. What a waste.”

  “He gave you lots of headaches, too.”

  “Well, he won’t anymore.” Betty Sue reached into her handbag, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Kerry. “Thanks for taking care of things. If one your deputies had arrested Randy, he would have given me up in a second.”

  Kerry opened the envelope and thumbed through a wad of bills.

  “There’s still one more thing to take care of, right?” she asked.

  Kerry looked up with pure evil in his eyes. “Right.”

  Chapter 13

  “Are you all right, Ms. Griffin?” Mr. Fleming asked.

  Susan snapped back to the present. Her throat was dry, her palms sweaty. She wiped her hands down her thighs and cleared her throat. Even so, she answered in a raspy voice. “I…I’m just making sure I haven’t forgotten anything.”

  Now she realized she must never impose her interpretation on a vision—that the true meaning would be revealed in time. Kerry had deceived all of them.

  “You too?” Mr. Fleming said. “I always do that and still forget things.” The little man with his curled mustache gave her an innocent smile.

  Susan’s voice returned to normal, and she thanked him for everything. “I’m sorry about all the commotion this morning.”

  “Hoodlums, that’s who messed up your van. I’m just glad the paint wasn’t permanent.”

  She offered her hand and instead got a big hug.

  “You’re always welcome here, my dear. I’ll send you information on next year’s festival as soon as I receive the flyers.”

  Wesley was shoving the last of the boxes under the garment racks when Susan exited the hotel. “The van’s packed. You ready to roll?” he asked.

  She answered with a smile then spied Kerry driving away from the hotel. He turned and looked back, giving her a big smile and a wave. Ice water seemed to flow through her veins. She couldn’t wait to get away from here. “I’m more than ready.” Then it dawned on her she hadn’t thanked Miguel for getting the graffiti off the van. “Wait just a minute. I forgot something.” She hustled back into the hotel and to the front desk.

  “Thought you were leaving,” Miguel said.

  “Not without thanking you for saving me a paint job.”

  “No problem. Have a safe trip home.”

  Susan crossed the lobby for the last time, but as she neared the front door, the back of her neck prickled. She stopped and gazed up at the mezzanine. Betty Sue stood looking down at her. Susan quickly turned away and hurried out the front door. She couldn’t get the vision of Betty Sue and Kerry standing over Randy’s grave out of her head, nor could she forget what they had said…that there was one more thing to take care of. Susan’s mind kicked into overdrive wondering what they had planned.

  When Wesley blew his horn, Susan jumped. “I…I’m ready.”

  Dylan held open the passenger door. “Looks like we’re bringing up the rear,” Dylan said.

  A. K. sat first in line behind the wheel of the van, and Jack followed in his car.

  “Climb in the caboose,” Dylan said.

  “You sure you can fit in the back?” Susan asked.

  “The quad-cab has more than enough room.”

  Wesley stuck his arm out the window and motioned for A. K. and Jack to go. “Nothing like having our own personal convoy.”

  “Our case might not have ended the way we wanted,” Dylan said as they turned onto the highway, “but at least it’s over.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” Wesley said. “I still would have liked to have seen Randy brought to trial. Then again, his death saved the state a lot of money.”

  Dylan propped his forearms atop the front seats. “The chief gave us Monday off, but I could best use that day when I go see about Dad.”

  “I wouldn’t mind saving that day for later, too. Let’s meet at the office as planned about eight o’clock. We can bring the chief up to date and get rid of our paperwork.”

  Susan listened to their conversation, all the while battling with herself as
to whether she should tell them about the scene at the cemetery that she had seen in her vision. What good would it do? She had no idea what Kerry and Betty Sue had planned. Besides, how could Dylan or Wesley prevent the unknown?

  Despite trying to be logical, another voice in her head suggested the opposite. It was the voice of her mother. Ever since Susan was a young child, her mother had told her it wasn’t good to keep things bottled up, and her mother had been right. Her wisdom had helped Susan through many situations, and right now she was afraid if she didn’t tell Dylan, harm might come to him.

  Wesley reached across the seat and tapped her arm. “Hey, sweetie, you’re awfully quiet.”

  Susan turned so she could face Dylan and Wesley. “I have something to tell you, especially you, Dylan. I had a vision this morning. It happened when Kerry brushed past me as he was leaving the hotel. I didn’t say anything because I was confused. I still am. While I’m not certain what it means, I believe you need to know.”

  She described in detail Betty Sue and Kerry’s graveside conversation. “Randy was the only one who could implicate Betty Sue in Lorraine’s murder, so she must have had him eliminated. Either Kerry did it, or he had someone else pull the trigger. That had to be blood money that Betty Sue gave to Kerry in my vision.”

  “Kerry? I find that hard to believe,” Dylan said. “He was my partner. I can’t imagine him ever doing anything like that, and my father trusted him, too. Sorry, Susan, but your vision doesn’t ring true. I can see Betty Sue being involved in killing Randy, but not Kerry.”

  “It’s not Randy’s murder that worries me. I’m more concerned about the one thing they have yet to take care of.”

  Dylan’s jaw flinched, and his hand clenched the back of the seat. “You think they’re out to get my dad, don’t you?”

  “As second in command, Kerry stands a good chance of being appointed sheriff of Gulfport, should something happen to your dad. Think about it, Dylan. He and Betty Sue would have free reign to do whatever they wanted.”