by Body Wave
"Sorry, but your crack about Carolyn Sutton shows me you still think I'm susceptible to your charms." She lifted her chin. "Where are those papers you have for me? It's getting late."
"That's all you care about, isn't it? Remember, I'll only go through with the deal if you find Kimberly's killer before I go to court. Just don't desert me like _she_ was about to do."
"What does that mean?"
His eyes glittered. "You think I don't know? I'm not stupid. My wife got what she wanted, only not exactly in the manner she'd hoped." He shook his head. "After all I did for her. We could have worked things out, if she hadn't ticked off someone enough to murder her. Help me find who did it, babe, and I promise I won't bother you again."
She retreated to the foyer while he obtained the documents. Her gaze inadvertently lowered to the marble floor where a vague stain showed. "You've cleaned up the place quite well," she told him upon his return. "Is this where -- ?"
"Yes." His glance met hers, then slid away. He handed her the papers, which she stuffed into her purse.
"You came down those stairs to find Kimberly lying here?" She didn't mean to be cruel. It was important to get the facts straight. Maybe he'd remember something that he hadn't told Vail.
"You got it."
"Did the cops ever find a murder weapon?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"It wasn't ... still in her, was it?"
"No." A muscle in his jaw twitched.
"I suppose they searched outside your house."
"I suppose. I didn't really get into details of the investigation."
Again she was struck by his unfamiliar attitude. Normally, Stan was a vulture for information. This case had hit too close to home, and he was too upset to act in his accustomed manner. To her personal discomfort, this vulnerability appealed to her much more than his arrogance.
"Detective Vail mentioned a couple of your neighbors, the Addisons and Shpritzes," she said. "How well did you and Kim know them?"
"We played tennis with Cliff and Elise Addison. Kim said she was going to tell Elise about that sports club she'd joined. As for the Shpritzes, we used to go out with Adam and Jessica."
"Used to?"
He dashed a hand through his hair. "My group is involved in a malpractice suit against Adam, who's a dentist. I'm not involved, but he doesn't understand why I can't intervene. We haven't gotten together in months." His eyes narrowed. "Hey, you don't suppose he ... thought of a way to get back at me?"
"By killing Kimberly? Don't be absurd. Besides, you told me Kim's family has the best motive."
"I forgot to ask what you learned when you went there on Sunday." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm not thinking straight these days."
Marla resisted an impulse to touch him. "Miriam is delightful, although the nurse treats her like an invalid. Her two daughters don't get along, as you said. I met Morris briefly but not the rest of his family. I presume they live in the other house on the property. Oh, thanks for your birthday gift," she added in a cynical tone. "I can always use a first-aid book and a pair of bandage scissors. They'll help with my disguise."
He smirked. "I figured you'd like them."
"So who is Kim's Uncle Jerry? A relative on her father's side?"
Stan's eyebrows shot up. "I almost forgot about him. Hang on a minute."
Marla examined the foyer while he raced upstairs. _How amazing, you could never tell someone had died here._ A shiver wormed up her spine.
"Here you go," Stan said upon returning. "I found this piece of paper tucked into a pocket of Kim's slacks. Look at the man's name scribbled on it: Jeremiah Dooley. I'll bet that's who this Uncle Jerry character is, although I don't recall any relation by that name on either side of Kimberly's family. I've started to go through her things. Thought I'd offer stuff to her relatives before calling the donation truck. Say, does your child-drowning-prevention coalition do pickups?"
"No, we don't." She took the note, which included a phone number, and stuck it in her purse.
"I meant to give you the bottle of Obsession from Kimberly's dresser. It's your favorite scent, if I recall." He frowned. "Maybe the housekeeper misplaced it. I don't seem to be able to find a lot of things, lately."
"I don't want anything that you bought for Kimberly, thanks. I'm taking care of Miriam again tonight. I'll let you know if I learn anything important."
He gave a crooked smile. "I knew I could count on you, babe." Opening the front door, he followed her outside and pulled out his car keys. "Time is running short. I hope you get some answers soon. I'd hate to withdraw my offer to sell you that property, especially when we've reached a new understanding."
_I wouldn't go that far._ She smiled brightly. "Since we're so close, I hope you won't mind if I make a suggestion. You need to change shampoos. Your scalp is too dry, and you have dandruff. It shows on your jacket."
After he left, Marla glanced at her watch. An hour remained until her next customer. She'd knock on a couple of doors and see if any neighbors were home.
She lucked out a few doors down where she found a mailbox emblazoned with the Addisons' name. A woman answered the door. Wary jade eyes regarded her from an oval face framed by honey brown curls. A full head shorter than Marla, she wore a jogging suit. Her healthy complexion and lean frame showed her to be in top form.
"I'm Marla Shore, a friend of Stanley Kaufman," Marla began, handing the lady her business card. "He asked me to check out some information regarding his wife. I understand you were tennis partners."
The woman's gaze chilled. "That's right."
Marla adjusted the shoulder strap on her purse. "I'm wondering if you have any idea who might have wanted to harm Kimberly."
"Who wouldn't?"
_It would be nice if you asked me inside, pal._ "I sense a bit of hostility in your reply."
"Would you wonder why your husband gave another man's wife a set of concert tickets to a show at the National Car Rental Center? Do you know how much those cost? My name is Elise, by the way. Cliff is my husband. Say, you're not an undercover cop, are you?"
Marla laughed. "Nope. I presume you already spoke to the authorities. It appears no one in the neighborhood saw anything unusual the morning Kim was murdered."
Elise's face scrunched. "I didn't notice anything, but then I was working already at my computer."
"Oh?"
"I write e-mail newsletters for online companies."
"I see. Are you an early morning jogger? You look like you keep really fit."
"I only run four times a week. That morning wasn't one of my days."
"How often did you play tennis with Kimberly?"
"Often enough to notice the side glances Cliff gave her. We partnered with our husbands." She cleared her throat. "Cliff thinks I didn't know, but you can tell when your man's attention wanders."
"Excuse me?"
Her face paled. "I shouldn't have said that. I have to go now." She started closing the door.
"Wait! Did Kim ever mention an uncle named Jeremiah?"
Elise hesitated. "She talked about her Uncle Jerry, if that's who you mean. He has a Porsche; I saw it parked in front of her house once. It's a real beaut. Beats me where he gets the money when his ministry finances missionary work in impoverished countries."
"Is that what Kim told you?"
"Yep."
"Is he a priest?"
"I don't think so. Kim didn't tell me much about his visits, but I could tell she was excited about seeing him."
"Stan doesn't know anything about him. As far as he knows, neither does the rest of her family."
Elise shrugged. "That's not my business."
"Did she confide her plans to you?"
"What, to leave Stan? As though I couldn't guess what was on her mind!" She pointed a finger at Marla. "Don't tell the cops this, but I'm glad she's dead. Cliff has been spooked by the whole thing. I think he'll straighten out now that that vamp doesn't have her clutches in him anymore."
&nb
sp; Marla kept her expression bland. "Well, thanks for your information. If you remember anything else, please call me. Can you tell me where the Shpritz family lives?"
"Jessica's house is number seven six oh six, one block south."
Mrs. Shpritz reminded Marla of a willow tree with her long limbs, graceful movements, and enveloping kindness. After studying Marla's business card, she gestured for her to enter.
"I don't know if you're aware of it," Jessica said after offering Marla a seat, "but Stan and Adam had a falling out. Stan's legal group is representing a malpractice case against my husband. Adam thinks Stan should intervene. You have no idea how upset we are about this lawsuit." She patted her swollen belly. "In my condition, I shouldn't have extra aggravation."
"I agree." Seated at a kitchen table, Marla watched Jessica remove a batch of chocolate-chip cookies from the oven. "Do you have any ideas about who killed Kimberly?"
"I can't say." Placing the cookie sheet on a rack, Jessica proceeded to remove her oven mitts.
_Can't say, or won't?_ "Had you spoken to Kim recently?"
"We kept in touch. I felt she could have done more to influence Stan. I got annoyed when she wouldn't bring up the subject to him, but Kim had her own problems." Jessica rinsed out two coffee mugs, filled them from a freshly brewed pot, and handed one to Marla. "Cream and sugar?"
"Yes, please." Jessica must be a paragon of housekeeping, she thought, surreptitiously taking in the spotless countertops, gleaming tile floor, and array of appliances with surfaces that shone like mirrors. _Wanna come do my house next?_
Jessica sat opposite her. "Kim was very unhappy, in case you didn't know. How did you say you knew the Kaufmans?"
Marla jerked upright. "I was Stan's first wife. In my profession, I come into contact with lots of people. I've helped the police solve cases before. That's why Stan came to me."
"I think he knew." Jessica lowered her voice to a whisper. "She was seeing some older guy. You know, the rich man who drives a Porsche."
"So you saw it, too. Elise mentioned his car."
Jessica stiffened. "You talked to _her?"_
"Yes, why?"
"Here, have a cookie. Elise must be upset. Now she'll have to find a new tennis partner."
The phone rang, and Jessica picked up the receiver. Marla caught the deep tones of a male voice on the other end.
Her face reddening, Jessica glanced at Marla. "I can't talk now. I have company. She's a friend of Stan's.... Yes, you know I'll be there. Adam thinks I'm going to a bridge game. See you later, snookems." Hanging up, she grinned at Marla. "Where were we?" Her smile was a bit too bright.
"You were telling me about the rich man who visited Kim. I understand his name is Jeremiah Dooley. Kim called him Uncle Jerry, but Stan doesn't know anything about him."
"If you believe he was her uncle, I'll sell you a piece of land in the Everglades. Kim told me she planned to leave Stan, and this Uncle Jerry was her ticket out the door."
* * *
*Chapter Nine*
"I'm on my way to Miriam's house," Marla told Vail after dialing his number on her cell phone. Traffic wasn't bad heading east on Broward Boulevard at 5:45 P.M., while long lines snaked in the opposite lanes. The sun had begun its daily descent, darkening the eastern horizon while awing visitors on the Gulf Coast. Marla hoped the snowbirds appreciated their balmy winter evenings, especially since the temperature had hit seventy.
"What happened with Stan?" Vail's gruff voice demanded.
She'd reached him at his office and imagined him at his desk in his work shirt and tie. A wave of longing shot through her. She'd rather spend the evening sparring verbally with Vail than fawning over Miriam.
No, that wasn't true. She looked forward to bringing some cheer to the old lady.
"Stan showed me the Pearl family albums. I found a space where your photograph belonged. The man in the picture is Jeremiah Dooley. A woman is with him in another photo, but Stan couldn't identify her."
"Good work." His smooth tone held warm approval.
"I mentioned him to the neighbors. They said Jerry drives a Porsche and runs some type of ministry. I have a phone number, but my purse is in the backseat."
"Tell me about the neighbors."
She steered with her free hand, watching the street signs as she crossed Federal Highway. "Elise Addison suspected that her husband Cliff was interested in Kim. She didn't shed any tears over Kim's death. Jessica Shpritz, on the other hand, believed Uncle Jerry was Kim's ticket to freedom. She implied they weren't blood relatives, either. So according to the neighbors, Kim was fooling around with either Cliff or this Jeremiah guy."
"I've got news for you; they're both wrong. Kim was fooling around all right, but with her former flame, Gary Waterford."
"I'd wondered about them." She veered left to a banyan-lined street in an older section of Fort Lauderdale. Flowering hibiscus and bougainvillea added splashes of crimson and pink. "Gary lied about not seeing Kim since her marriage to Stan. Their mutual friend Lacey clued me in. She gave me the impression that Gary is her territory, but maybe I'm wrong."
"What else did Stan tell you today?"
"He misses Kimberly. I actually felt sorry for him."
"Is that all you felt for Kaufman?"
"Dalton, you're not still jealous, are you? I told you there's nothing to worry about. Why don't I prove it to you by having you and Brianna come for dinner like I promised? We can talk about her birthday party. Do you have plans for tomorrow evening? I get off work at six, so you could come around seven. I'll whip up something special."
"You've got a date. Oh, there's something else -- "
"I gotta go. Here's the road to their compound. Call me tomorrow."
She put the cell phone in her purse before emerging from the car in front of the Pearl mansion. A cloyingly sweet fragrance filled the air. She stretched her limbs, feeling strange wearing a white nurse's outfit. She'd chosen a tunic top and matching pants at the uniform store. On her feet, she wore a pair of sturdy New Balance walking shoes.
Juggling her sack of supplies and her purse, she trudged up the steps to the front door. Raoul swung it open before she rang the bell.
"You're late," Morris said, greeting her in the mirrored foyer. He tapped his foot impatiently. "Agnes left a half hour ago. Stella is keeping Miriam company upstairs."
"Sorry, I was coming from -- " She stopped herself, having almost said _from my salon._ "From West Broward," she amended. "Traffic was heavy. I'll leave earlier next week."
"See that you do." He eyed her canvas bag suspiciously. "What's making that bulge?"
"I brought a few supplies." Curling iron, hair spray, brush, teasing comb, shears -- all the essentials. Plus, she'd brought snacks and reading material in case Miriam fell asleep. "When do you expect Agnes to return?"
"Around ten." He paused, scrutinizing her. "Elizabeth spoke very highly of you."
"Who?" Turning, Marla headed for the stairs. Her foot had reached the fourth rung when Morris replied.
"Elizabeth Marsh, the woman you care for during the week. I called her when I checked your references."
"Oh!" Startled, Marla tripped on a fold in the carpet. Tottering backward, she lunged for the banister as her purse and canvas bag sailed through the air. Breath rushed from her lungs, but she managed to grab the rail and haul herself upright.
"Sorry," she mumbled, shaken. Her face reddened at the contemptuous look he gave her. _Why am I such a klutz whenever I come here?_
"You're not hurt, are you?" he asked without an ounce of genuine concern.
"I'm fine, thanks."
Her purse contents had spilled onto the marble tile. Before she could retrieve her things, Morris stooped to gather the makeup items, daily planner, pens, breath mints, and travel brochures for Tahiti she kept in her handbag. Not that she'd ever get there, but it was fun to daydream. Her throat tightened when she noticed Morris holding the paper with Jeremiah Dooley's name. His eyes narrowed imperceptib
ly before he stuffed the item into her purse along with the rest of her belongings.
"Elizabeth said to tell you hello," he continued, regarding her with a stony expression.
"Thank you." So he'd checked with Tally's mother to see if Marla really worked there. Thank goodness Tally had briefed her mom who was currently in town. "I'll go see Miriam now."
After retrieving her bags, she proceeded upstairs and breezed into Miriam's room.