“So what are you thinking of putting in here?” I asked.
She turned and smiled at me, and I didn’t like the smile. It seemed arrogant.
“A consignment shop.”
I tossed a haughty smile back at her. “I’m not certain that’s such a good idea. Sabal Bay has a number of consignment shops. The only reason ours can compete is that we take in designer merchandise from the coast and sell to women who come from as far away as West Palm. The merchandise is high end, as is our clientele.”
She fixed me with her odd eyes, almost an opalescent blue or green or gray—very pale, but luminous. I thought of the phosphorescence in the water when we were in the Keys and wondered if her eyes glowed in the dark.
“Yes, I know what you do. I intend to do the same.”
Not good, I thought. If she tried that and took over our location, she’d win over our customers. Why drive out of town to a place that smelled like booze and fried food unless you liked rubbing elbows with bikers? I didn’t think that would be the case.
Madeleine struggled through the front door with dresses slung over her arm. “I could have used some help.”
She dumped her load of clothes on the top of one of the skirt rounds and gasped.
“Elvira Reed. What are you doing here?”
“I’m about to put the two of you out of business.” She tapped Roland on the shoulder. “I’ll take it. Make sure these two are out of here by next Monday.”
“They still have two weeks to go on their contract,” Roland said.
“Not if you want me in here. I’ll offer three times what they’re paying.”
Madeleine and I stared after her as she strode out the front door and got into a Mercedes convertible.
“You heard the lady,” said Roland. “You can hand me the keys on Saturday. I’ll be by to pick them up. Good luck to you. I think you’re going to need it.”
Madeleine and I had little time to discuss Elvira Reed. We were busy inventorying the clothes we’d gotten in on consignment last week and waiting on customers. At lunchtime there was a rush of women from the coast, led by one of our most faithful customers, Marjorie Sinclair. She was the most unpretentious of the West Palm matrons. She dressed well, but in an understated way. As with many of the wealthy West Palm women, she’d had work done on her face, but the doctor who’d done it took away some wrinkles and sag but left all her character and charm. She still looked fifty, but it was a healthy and realistic fifty. She liked rural Florida, and she and her husband had purchased some land over by the Kissimmee River. They ran cattle there, and I knew some of the cowboys they’d hired—not only knew them but had danced with them at the Biscuit.
I told Marjorie we were moving and I had no idea where. I also confessed that another shop with the same high-end concept was coming to this location.
“Don’t you worry, Eve dear. I’ll spread the word among my friends. I love you and Madeleine. We all do. You know your business. What background does this other woman have, anyway?”
I admitted I didn’t know if she had any background or business experience. “But her husband owns one of the hunting ranches around here.”
“Don’t you worry. You’ll find another location and go on as before. I just know it. And if there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word.” Marjorie waved one of her friends over, a tiny woman with blonde hair. “This is Susie Clarin, Eve. She’s been dying to visit this place.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“Oh, you do have nice things, but I really came to see the cowboys.”
I laughed. “Sorry. We don’t stock them here.”
“I told you, Susie. You’ll have to wait until later at the Burnt Biscuit.”
“What are all of you going to do until then?” I asked.
“We’ll have lunch out at the restaurant at the park, drop by to see how the bass tournament is going, take an airboat ride, and drop by the casino. It’s going to be a full afternoon.”
I gave Marjorie directions to the airboat ride run by my Miccosukee friend Sammie Egret.
“He’s a real Indian?” asked Susie.
“Yep. He and his grandfather run the airboat business.”
“There will be alligators?” asked another woman.
“Sure. Lots of them.”
I figured I’d better stop talking or I’d get them so worked up they’d head straight for the airboat ride and forget about buying anything here. “I’ve got some Ralph Lauren Western shirts over there on the rack. That way, next time you come here, you’ll be dressed for the experience.” I wondered if Ralph even knew what cows looked like. I loved his clothes but doubted he had any knowledge of the real West—and especially of authentic Florida swamp wear.
That night Madeleine and I met our guys at the Mexican restaurant, the one where last year my car had blown up like popcorn in a microwave bag.
“You nervous?” Madeleine slid into a booth, leaving room for David. I took the seat across the table.
“If you mean about the possibility that someone might take a run at my Mustang and turn it into toast, the answer is no. I’m not superstitious. Lightning does not strike twice.” I looked out the window at my car, parked just beyond the handicapped spots.
“You couldn’t have parked it any closer. I was worried you’d try to drive it into the bar area just to keep an eye on it.” Madeleine perused the menu as if she didn’t eat here so often she had it memorized.
“It doesn’t hurt to be cautious.” I ordered a margarita from our waiter.
Madeleine held up her fingers. “Make it two.”
“Make it a pitcher,” Alex said. He and David arrived together and settled into the booth.
We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes until our drinks arrived.
“Guess who we ran into today?” I licked the salt from the rim of my glass.
“Maybe we should choose another topic of conversation for the evening.” Madeleine shot me a warning look across the table.
I didn’t think now was the time to hedge about our visitor and I said so. “Elvira Reed is up to something. I just know it. It wasn’t a coincidence that she’s going to rent our space.”
“If she’s anything like her husband, I’d have to agree with you.” David twisted the stem of his glass around and around.
“She could give him lessons in nasty.” I decided on the carne asada and closed my menu.
“Now, you don’t know that,” Madeleine said.
“I don’t know it like I don’t know the brand names of designer footwear, right?” I said.
“I hate to break up this fashion discussion, but I need to have you come with me, Mr. Wilson.” Frida had approached our table without our noticing. She was accompanied by her partner, Linc Tooney.
I worried at her use of “Mr. Wilson,” so formal, like she might be—
“Are you arresting me?” David got out of the booth.
“Just come with me, please. I have a few questions for you.” Both Frida and Linc had official cop business looks on their faces.
“I’ll come too.” Madeleine slid over and grabbed David’s hand
“We all will.” I pushed Alex out of the booth.
“Our business is with Mr. Wilson. I can’t prevent you from coming to the station, but you may have a long wait ahead of you.” Frida seemed uncomfortable and eager to leave the restaurant. She was doing her duty, but I knew she wasn’t happy to be doing it in front of a roomful of people.
“Fine,” said Alex. “We can wait.” He threw enough money on the table to cover the cost of the pitcher of margaritas. The three of us followed David and the detectives to the door. Every eye in the place must have been on us. Just as we were about to exit, I saw Blake Reed and his wife sitting at a booth near the door.
“Trouble, Wilson?” Reed asked. Try as he might to plaster a look of concern on his face, he couldn’t hide the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. David ignored him. I started toward the booth, but Alex gra
bbed my arm and steered me out the door.
“You’ll tell them the whole story, won’t you, David?” Madeleine continued to hold his hand with both of hers as if she could prevent the detectives from putting him into the backseat of the police car.
At Madeleine’s remark about “the whole story,” Frida stopped and turned toward Madeleine. “What story would that be?”
Madeleine ignored Frida, her grasp on David’s hand tightening to a white-knuckled hold.
“You’ll have to let him go, Madeleine.” Frida’s voice was kind. She had to know how difficult this was for Madeleine, who had finally found a man she cared for and who loved her in return.
By the time Madeleine, Alex, and I arrived at the police station, David had been taken to an interview room.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Alex said.
I began to pace back and forth, intent upon wearing a path in the station’s floor.
“You’re making me crazy, Eve. Sit.” Madeleine was on the verge of tears.
“Sorry.” I began to chew my thumbnail, a habit I’d obviously picked up from Madeleine. “I think it’s time you came clean with us, Missy.”
“What do you mean?” Madeleine tried for her best innocent look, but I spotted the deception in those baby blue eyes.
“You know something about David, something that says he’s not guilty of the killing.”
“We all know he’s not, Eve,” Alex said.
“That’s because we know the kind of man he is, but Madeleine knows more. Don’t you?” I asked.
“It’s kind of a long story, but since David alluded to it before with you and Alex, I don’t see why I can’t tell you the rest,” she said.
I took a seat on the bench, sinking back into Alex’s shoulder. “We may have all night. Tell away.”
Madeleine leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “David was married, you know.”
I nodded, as did Alex. David had made no secret that his wife had left him several years ago and that she had custody of their only child, a girl, now about twelve years of age.
“Angela, his wife, is from Boca Raton. She hated living here. She considered the school system substandard and didn’t like their daughter growing up on a ranch with no close neighbors. I guess there was nothing about living in the country that appealed to her. David bought a house in Sabal Bay and commuted every day to the ranch, but Angela was still unhappy. She missed her family and friends on the coast.”
“So she took the daughter and left? How does that prove him innocent?” I was growing impatient with the story, which seemed unrelated to the shooting. And besides, I was getting grumpy without my dinner. I thought of my unordered carne asada and my stomach responded with a growl.
Madeleine shook her head. “She left, but not for those reasons only. Something happened.”
“Go on,” Alex said.
“One night, an intruder broke into the house and entered the daughter’s room. David heard him and sneaked down the hall to confront him. The guy turned when he heard David. In the moonlit room, David could see he was carrying a gun. He told the guy to drop the weapon, but he fired at David—”
“And David had his gun, right?” Alex said.
“Right. The intruder missed David, but David fired back and hit him. Shot him dead.”
“He was defending himself and his family. The cops couldn’t have found fault with that,” Alex said.
“They didn’t. It was self-defense. That’s not the issue.”
“I don’t get it. David can’t hate guns because he defended his family, can he?” I asked.
“No. Of course not. It’s not that simple.” Madeleine hesitated, then added, “The intruder was a thirteen-year-old boy.”
Chapter 7
“Thirteen? David must have been horrified.” Now I understood why David loathed guns and how difficult it must be for him to continue running a ranch where he found himself constantly around them. It was one thing to use them for hunting and quite another to kill someone, especially a kid. He certainly could make a compelling case for not shooting that client, especially since there was no apparent motive.
Frida walked through the door and into the waiting area. Her usually carefully coiffed hair was in disarray, strands of it sticking out from behind her ears. “You might as well go home. We’ll be keeping him here.”
I jumped up and confronted Frida. “Keeping him? You mean you’ve arrested him, right? What are you thinking? That’s absurd.” I knew I sounded argumentative and couldn’t be helping David with my tone of voice and pugnacious attitude, but it was late and we’d just heard a story Frida should take into consideration. I wanted this whole misadventure wrapped up and soon. If she hadn’t heard the tale from David, I was going to tell her. “You don’t know the whole story.”
“No, Eve, I do. You’re the one who doesn’t know the whole story. David had motive to kill that client. He and the man had a fight about hunting that oryx. The client wanted to take it down, but David told him no. So he shot him to prevent him from killing the animal.”
“He confessed?” Madeleine’s voice was filled with disbelief and fear.
“He needs a lawyer. The best you can do for him now is to get him one. A good one. He’ll be arraigned tomorrow. That’s all I can tell you. Go home. That’s what I’m going to do.” Frida turned her back on us and headed toward the door to the interrogation rooms. She stopped, and keeping her eyes on the floor, said, “I’m sorry.” Then she was gone.
Madeleine burst into tears and Alex and I, both shocked at the arrest ourselves, gathered her in our arms and tried to comfort her. But what comfort is there to be had when the man you love is being held for murder? Had we misjudged David?
Madeleine refused to stay home from the shop the next day. “I called Barton Hall. He’s the best attorney around here.” She seemed to have gathered her courage overnight. I admired how she’d wiped away her tears and leaped into action on David’s behalf. I was determined to support her insistence that he was innocent. Although Alex and I discussed the possibility that David had killed the man in a fit of rage, we weren’t about to share that conversation with Madeleine. We’d keep our doubts to ourselves.
“We have to face it, Eve. We’ve got to take that crummy place next to the bar or we’re out of business.”
“We have until this weekend to find another place. Let’s sit on it until this thing with David blows over.”
Madeleine gave forth a bitter laugh. “It’s not going to disappear, you know. There’s nothing we can do for now. His lawyer will get him out on bail. I hope. Until then I need to focus on something else, something I can control. Like where we’re going to sell our merchandise. His hearing isn’t until this afternoon. I want to work until then.” She chewed on her thumbnail. Despite her brave words, she would be thinking of David every moment. But she was right. There was little we could do for now.
“I just can’t face renting next to the T ’n A,” I said. “There has to be something else.” I fired up my laptop to check ads in other papers. “We may have to relocate to the coast.”
“We can’t afford that, and besides, if we take a shop on the coast we’ll lose our edge over the other consignment shops. We’re here because it works, has worked for the last year.” Madeleine continued to gnaw on her thumb and gazed out the front window.
I turned off the computer. She was right again. We had to stay put here in Sabal Bay and fight it out with Mrs. Reed.
“We could apply for a small business loan. That would give us the money to rent in a better location.”
“What?” Madeleine continued to stare out the window. “I’m sorry, Eve. I can’t keep my mind here.”
I walked over to her and put my arm around her shoulders. “I know, honey. I’m sorry.”
She seemed to shake herself back into the present. “A loan? But that could take months. What do we do until then?”
“We could—”
“No, you don’t
. We can’t do business with your mob friends. I will not do business with Nappi Napolitani.”
The thought of working with Mr. Napolitani distracted her enough that she stopped biting her nail. There was very little left of it.
“I’ll start the paperwork for a loan. In the meantime, I think we need a large van or two and some help to move all this stuff out of here. We only have until next Saturday.”
“Who can we call?”
“I have an idea.”
Madeleine shot me a look and shook her head.
“I meant I’ll call Sammy Egret and see if he’s willing to lend a hand. Maybe he can get a couple of his cousins to help also.”
Madeleine smiled. “You are such a bad liar. You did not mean you were going to call Sammy, but it is a good idea.”
“Alex would help, but he’s tied up in a case in Miami for the week and he’s spending nights there.”
I punched Sammy’s number into my cell and got a busy signal. Over the next half an hour the phone continued to ring busy.
“I’m going out there. I’ll stop at the deli and buy us sandwiches for lunch. Are you okay to mind the place for an hour?”
“Go. I’m fine.” She looked down at her thumb and sighed, then started her brutal manicure on the other one.
When I arrived at Sammy’s airboat business, I saw the boat was gone. The parking area was filled with cars and women stood in line in front of the tiki hut. Grandfather Egret was behind the counter, holding court with stories from the past that the women seemed to find entertaining.
I waved at him as I got out of the car. He returned the wave but continued on with his story. I walked close enough to hear. Ah, he was telling about the time he captured a couple of kidnappers. I smiled. I’d been in on that caper. The version he was telling his audience was a bit exaggerated.
A Sporting Murder Page 5