by Body Wave
"I thought he was a diver," Vail commented.
"Piotr was a diver, but he also acted as a buyer for other interests. My family had hoped for better prospects for me, so they were thrilled when he returned with another woman. All I wanted was Piotr. A more dashing man you'd never meet."
"Did Piotr explain how he'd met the woman he married?" Marla asked.
"Colleen worked for a family with whom he had business dealings. You could tell she was Irish working class. We all thought it strange how she delivered a full-term baby eight months later."
"Did Jeremiah resemble his mama?" Marla persisted.
"Well, now that's the odd part. Jeremiah didn't have any of Piotr's dark Greek looks, nor did he have Colleen's red hair or fair complexion. His brown eyes and hair were a puzzle. The girl, she looked the spitting image of her mother."
"What girl?" Vail demanded. He cast Marla an impatient glance, nodding at his watch.
"The daughter, Katie. Didn't you know Jeremiah had a sister?"
"No, we didn't," Marla burst out. "Does she live in Tarpon Springs like her brother?"
Harriet's mouth dropped open. "Land sakes, gal, Jeremiah left these parts ages ago."
"How is that?" Vail said. "His Ministry of Hope is located on the outskirts of town. We have an appointment to meet him there."
Harriet regarded him with amusement. "That's his mission headquarters. He tapes his show elsewhere. The last I heard, he had a place down south. Miramar, maybe? No, it's in Margate."
_Margate! That's just north of Fort Lauderdale,_ Marla thought. Meaning he hadn't been so far away from Kimberly after all. "Where does his sister Katie live?" she repeated.
"I haven't a notion, honey. I haven't seen her around town for quite some time."
Marla handed her a business card. "If you hear of Katie's whereabouts, can you call me?"
"Sure thing. Say, Jeremiah hasn't done anything wrong, has he?"
"Nope, we're just gathering information," Vail said with a disarming smile. He rose, signaling Marla to follow. "Thanks so much for your cooperation, Miss Stanton."
In the car, Marla voiced what had been on her mind during their silent walk to the parking lot. "Jeremiah doesn't live in Tarpon Springs but closer to home. He may have been around the morning of Kim's murder."
"That doesn't mean much. As far as he's concerned, all we have on him is an old photo from Kim's family album, plus neighborly gossip. That doesn't provide a clear connection between him and the deceased."
"Stan said Jeremiah called on Kim one day when she wasn't home," Marla reminded him as they headed for the main road.
"So what?"
"Kim's neighbor thought she might be fooling around with Jeremiah. He drives an expensive car. Someone paid her tuition at the design school and gave her reason to believe she'd have enough money to leave Stan."
"Hmm." He directed his gaze forward, not meeting her questioning glance. "Maybe the neighbor was right," he said after a short interval. "I tried to tell you the other day on the phone, but you cut me off."
She remembered their quick conversation in the car on her way to the Pearls' house on Thursday. He'd started to say something when she'd arrived at the house and hung up. She'd forgotten to ask him about it Friday when he came for dinner. "What is it?"
"We got the medical examiner's report." He paused. "Kimberly was pregnant."
"What!" It was a good thing she wasn't driving, or she would have swerved off the road. "Bless my bones, Dalton, Stan wouldn't have harmed her if Kimberly had been expecting their child. You can't possibly suspect him anymore!"
"What if he knew the child wasn't his?"
"Dammit, you're still trying to pin this on him."
"I am not. Be reasonable and consider the possibilities."
"You're the one who's not being reasonable! No matter what, you still come back to accusing Stan. Admit it, you're jealous."
His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "That's not fair. You don't have any faith in me."
"Ha! Look who's talking."
"I'm doing my job, examining all the angles, which is more than I can say for you. You're the one who's biased."
"Because I know Stan didn't do it!"
"You see!" he chortled triumphantly.
Angry words hovered on her tongue, but she bit them back, clenching her teeth. Staring out the side window, she forced herself to review the options. Would Stan have been happy if Kimberly bore his child when he already supported two children from his previous marriage? Maybe he'd flown into a rage when Kim told him they'd be adding a new family member. Grabbing his letter opener, he'd followed his wife downstairs.
No, she discarded that scenario.
_Let's look at other possibilities._ What if the child wasn't Stan's? That would give him an even greater motive to kill his wife in a fit of passion. But it gave others a motive as well. Kim's classmates said she intended to hook up with Gary after leaving Stan. Had Kim mentioned to her best friend Lacey that she was pregnant? Maybe Lacey, who lusted after Gary, had killed Kim in a jealous rage, believing the father to be Gary. Or maybe Gary himself had done the deed. From the state of his business, it didn't look as though he could support any added burdens. Then again, if he was misleading Kim for her money and really intended to stick with Lacey, he might have gotten rid of Kim to save that relationship.
Gads, it was all so complicated. She ran a hand over her face, hating herself for her suspicions, resenting Vail for making her wish she could take back her angry words. Was he considering the same possibilities, or did he truly believe Stan to be guilty? Stubbornness kept her from discussing the issues with him. He'd accused her of being biased, but he was the one who kept pointing the finger at Stan. Besides, if he'd heard Kim was pregnant, why hadn't he told her sooner? She must be the only one who hadn't known!
Leah's enigmatic sentence popped into her brain: _She couldn't have chosen a more convenient time to die._ Of course! If Stan and Kim had offspring, then her children would no longer be his prime beneficiaries. Leah's remark implied she knew about Kim's pregnancy. Yet somehow, Marla couldn't think of Leah as a killer.
How about Elise Addison, who suspected her husband Cliff was cheating on her? If Kim had confided she was pregnant, Elise might have jumped to the conclusion her husband was the father. She might have offed Kim to get rid of the competition. On the other hand, Jessica Shpritz had implied that Jeremiah Dooley was Kim's paramour. The minister wouldn't want his reputation sullied. Had he bumped her off to silence her?
Kim was getting money from somewhere. Maybe she'd threatened Jeremiah with a paternity suit if he didn't cough up the dollars. He might have paid her tuition and promised a large enough payment to get her started on her own, away from Stan.
She looked forward to their discussion with Jeremiah Dooley. He might be twenty-plus years older than Kimberly, but that wouldn't matter to a gold digger. What had Jessica called him, a sugar daddy? Maybe Kimberly had found her golden ticket, but he'd torn it up in her face before she could collect the final prize.
Whatever else he was, Jeremiah Dooley might be their key to unlocking the mystery of who killed Kimberly Kaufman.
* * *
*Chapter Fourteen*
Ministry of Hope stood in the glaring afternoon sun like a concrete bunker in the middle of farm country. The Tarpon Springs headquarters for Jeremiah Dooley's organization consisted of a square tan building with a single door in front and a second level that led to a tiered structure of concrete tanks, metal walkways, pipes and hoses. Beyond stretched raised ponds interspersed with sandy trails in a patchwork pattern.
Marla shoved herself out of Vail's car with a groan of fatigue. Dust clogged her nostrils, adding more misery to the heaviness throbbing at her temples. "This visit had better be worth it," she said, wishing they were on their way home.
Vail, after stretching to his full height outside the car, tossed his jacket onto the backseat. "Let's check it out."
As they
approached the front entrance, a sign directed visitors to a stairway in the back. They trudged over grass, brown and brittle from lack of rain, to an access area in the rear with gaping double doors. Against a wall leaned an assortment of fifty-pound aqua-culture feed bags. Inside the garage-like entrance, rakes and other garden implements, a washer and dryer, different length hoses, and eel tanks met her bewildered gaze. Peering into one tank, she grimaced when a slimy black creature slithered to the surface.
"Hello there," said a gray-haired man wearing jeans and a green polo shirt. His casual outfit seemed incongruous for a gent with his dignified bearing, but he appeared at ease in the surroundings. Marla couldn't believe this was the same man she'd seen on television, where he'd ruled the pulpit with such fervor. She would never have pictured him on a fish farm.
They'd caught him in the middle of a conversation with two young men in shorts. "Finish with your measurements, and then get back to me," he told them before turning to his visitors. He spoke with a slight Southern accent that hadn't been noticeable on his TV show. "You must be Mr. Vail and his fiancee. I'm Reverend Dooley." His brown eyes glowed with a friendly welcome.
They shook hands, then Jeremiah led them up a steep flight of stairs to a makeshift office that held desks covered with papers, graphs, and posters; trash cans overflowing with empty soda cans; and tilapia fish tanks. Marla gazed in awe as several magnificent specimens swam into view. Wide and sturdy, with shiny scales, they made her mouth water for a seafood dinner.
"I understand y'all are interested in making a substantial donation to Ministry of Hope," Jeremiah said with a fatherly smile. "I can't tell you how much our congregants need your help. Our operations in Latin countries provide jobs for hundreds of workers, and food for more. Your contribution will help us carry forth the Lord's work."
"I'm not familiar with tilapia farming, but I imagine it must provide a good source of revenue," Marla murmured, smoothing her slacks. She must look rumpled after a day of travel. She'd left her blazer in the car, and the silk blouse stuck to her sweaty back.
"Indeed." Jeremiah gestured to the fish tanks. "Tilapia has been raised as far back as ancient Egypt. Legend tells us that tilapia was the fish our Lord multiplied to feed the masses. Since it comes from the Nile River, this is probably true. Tilapia is the most popular fish in freshwater aquaculture because it's so hardy and easy to breed."
"Really? What does that mean in terms of production values?" Marla persisted, attempting to gauge his organization's financial status.
"Just to give you an idea, annual yield in the United States approximates twenty million pounds," Jeremiah said, puncturing his remarks with gestures. "In Florida, fish farms produce over one million pounds per year. Let me add that tilapia are a tropical fish."
Marla cast a glance at Vail. While she'd kept Jeremiah occupied, he had sidled over to peer at a stack of papers on the minister's desk. She could tell he was more interested in the office accouterments than the fish tanks. _Okay, I can play this game, she told him silently._ "What happens with temperature variations?" she queried, plastering a look of rapt fascination on her face.
"Warm water increases their growth rate. Cold weather can kill them if the water temperature drops below fifty degrees."
"What are these different types?"
The reverend pointed to each tank in turn, speaking like a professor to a student. "This is blue tilapia, which is naturalized in Florida and inhabits the Everglades. That's white tilapia, and the other one is a hybrid of Nile tilapia. You can tell by its stripes. The hybrid is also more aggressive."
"I'm curious," Vail said from the opposite side of the room. "If you direct your activities from this location, where do you tape your television shows?"
Jeremiah puffed out his chest. "I live in Margate, and I do the shows from Miami. Regarding the missions, we have a manager who oversees our business operations, and an aquaculture specialist who supervises the farms. So I only come up here on special occasions, to meet folks like you or to make sure everything is running smoothly." His eyes narrowed, as though he'd just noticed Vail wasn't listening to his lecture. "You said you're from Palm Haven, but I didn't catch the name of your company."
Vail had a ready answer. "I'm in security, and Marla owns a chain of hair salons. Why don't you give the good reverend one of your business cards, sweetcakes?"
She returned his dazzling smile with a conspiratorial wink. Handing Jeremiah a card, she said, "This is for my anchor store. Come in sometime, and I'll give you a complementary cut." The minister's hair didn't have a single strand out of place. He must use a generous share of his pocket money on hair spray, she surmised. Her glance took in his manicured fingernails. No wonder he didn't work on the farm; it might soil his hands. She hoped to kick up some dirt herself while they were here.
"My friend mentioned your show," Marla ventured. "Her name was Kimberly Kaufman. Maybe you read about her in the newspapers since you live near Fort Lauderdale. She was murdered a couple of weeks ago."
"How horrible," Jeremiah said, steepling his hands in a prayer position.
"Kim said she knew you personally."
Jeremiah glanced from Marla to Vail, who was engaged in casually picking off a fleck of lint from his pants. "We'd met a couple of times. Like yourself, Mrs. Kaufman was interested in donating to the cause. I always try to meet our benefactors in person."
"Did you attend her funeral?"
"No, I wasn't on intimate terms with the family. When I didn't hear from Mrs. Kaufman again, I just assumed she'd lost interest. I'm so sorry to hear she met such a dreadful end."
_If you weren't intimate, why did she call you Uncle Jerry?_ "How did you meet each other? Did Kim contact you?"
"You seem mighty interested in my relations with your friend, Miz Shore."
Marla moistened her lips. "If it weren't for Kimberly, Dalton and I wouldn't have known about your work. We've always been concerned about world hunger, so we were thrilled to learn about your efforts. Breeding fish in ponds is an excellent means of providing food for thousands."
She'd hit upon the right subject to divert him. "You're absolutely right. Praise the Lord for his gift!" Jeremiah raised his arms. "He giveth us the means to produce a bounty of consumables. Who needs material wealth when we have food stocks? You can't eat money."
_No, but you can buy a Porsche with it, pal._ From the corner of her eye, she watched Vail shift a few papers on a file cabinet. "Do many people know about tilapia?" she said hastily to grab Jeremiah's attention. "It's not a common fish on the menu at restaurants."
He gave her a benevolent smile. "Look for it at the fish counters in your local grocery store. Tilapia is rapidly gaining consumer recognition. Besides being white, firm, and moist, it's mild in flavor, so it accepts sauces well. You can use it in recipes that specify other kinds of fish. Let's go outside, and I'll show you the rest."
Nodding agreeably, Marla hoped her companion noticed how well they were working together as a team. A moment's guilt flushed through her at their deception. Vail had arranged this meeting under false pretenses. It was bad enough that Marla had deceived the Pearl family in her role as nurse's aide. She dreaded the day Miriam would discover her ruse, especially since she'd become fond of the old lady. Maybe the reverend would give her a blessing and absolve her from sin.
_Yeah, right. Believe that, and you can make hair sprout on a bald head with a prayer._
They emerged into the sunshine on a raised walkway. Marla was aware of Vail's presence directly behind her. When he placed a possessive hand on her shoulder, she folded into him, leaning against the solid length of his body. His arm curved around, encompassing her waist. A slight smile lifted the reverend's lips as he regarded the intimate gesture.
"We grow tilapia in outdoor tanks and ponds since our weather is fairly predictable," Jeremiah continued, squinting in the bright light. "Other farms may use greenhouses to control the climate, but we don't worry about that here. I mentioned that tilap
ia is a hardy fish. Since they have strong immune systems, they're more easily grown than other fish species which are prone to disease, plus they don't get as stressed by environmental changes. These factors make tilapia a highly marketable, protein-rich food source as well as a cash-generating crop, so it's perfect for our third-world missions."
"Don't you have sites in Costa Rica?" Marla asked.
He nodded. "Our farms use pure rainwater from the cloud forests. It flows by gravity through our farms at such a rate that the ponds exchange their water every twenty minutes."
"Is the fish sold there?"
"We harvest the fish six days a week. Some of it is distributed locally and the rest is flown to Miami each evening. From there, we deliver the fish to customers by truck or air."
"Kimberly's family owns coffee plantations in Costa Rica," Vail commented in a dry tone.