by S. L. Menear
Gwen stood when we heard a knock. “You two have the dogs on your laps. I’ll get the door.”
When she returned with Mike, I patted the seat beside me on the sofa. “Have a seat and tell us what’s up.”
He settled next to me.
Still standing, Gwen peeked at her watch. “I’d better go. I’ve got a long day tomorrow. Goodnight, everyone.”
After she left, I asked Mike, “Did you catch the bomber?”
“Not yet.” He pulled a paper out of his pocket. “We couldn’t find anyone at the pet store who saw someone messing with your car, but I have a list of customers who made credit card purchases that morning.” He handed me the paper. “Recognize any of the names?”
I studied the list. “No, sorry.” I handed it back. “Did forensics get any fingerprints from the detonator?”
“Nothing, and they weren’t able to trace where it was purchased because it was from a batch made over ten years ago.” He consulted his notes. “Whoever is doing this is a pro. No mistakes. I tried talking to Dietrich. He said to call his lawyer and slammed the door in my face. I don’t have any evidence to arrest him or get a warrant to search his condo. Sorry.”
“Are we back to thinking it’s a hitman?” Sophia asked. “Maybe the mayor hired a pro from the Russian Mafia here in South Florida like we thought.” She turned to Mike. “Can you find out if he had dealings with them?”
“I can try. I’ll put the word out to all law enforcement agencies between here and Miami and see if there’s any word on the street about a Russian hitter blowing up a Bentley on Banyan Isle or poisoning the mayor. Somebody’s informant might know something.”
“My gut tells me it wasn’t a hitman.” I stared at the family telescope. “Maybe my parents’ murders aren’t connected to the mayor’s murder, and this has been a string of strange coincidences.”
“Stay out of it, Jett. Nosing around almost got you killed in the Bahamas, Miami, and here in the street. I expect you to remain home and leave the investigating to law enforcement officers.” Mike strode to the front door.
Thirty-One
GWEN
Over the next few days, Gwen and Clint pursued the Strangers-on-a-Train suspects, but they couldn’t find any evidence the medical professionals had ever met or communicated with each other. They all had alibis, leaving her and Clint with no leads.
The major events Liz and Clive had come for during the Palm Beach social season were over, and they returned to their castle in England.
Gwen sat at her desk in the cop shop and stared at the files, searching for something she’d missed, when her cell phone played “If I Could Turn Back Time” by Cher. Cam was calling.
“Hey, girlfriend, how’s it going with Detective Hottie? Should I get started on your wedding gown?”
“It’s going great personally, slow and steady, but we aren’t making any headway professionally. What’s new with you?”
“I was researching antique jewelry, and I found drawings of your aunt’s fabulous brooch and matching ring. Turns out they may date back to the reign of King Arthur.”
“I guess you didn’t know Aunt Liz is my mother’s older sister. They were born in England, and their noble bloodline traces back to Queen Guinevere. My mother married a wealthy commoner from America, and Aunt Liz married Clive Pendragon, the Duke of Colchester, whose bloodline connects to King Arthur. Wild, huh?”
“That explains a lot. Legend claims Merlin himself created the brooch and ring with magical properties. King Arthur asked Merlin to forge the enchanted jewelry for his queen’s protection after Queen Guinevere was kidnapped by Mordred and rescued by Sir Lancelot.”
“I had no idea. How do they work?” Gwen tried to visualize Liz’s ring and brooch doing something magical.
“Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anything on that, and I’m dying to know. Would you be a dear and ask your aunt?”
“I’ll ask her, but chances are the secret was lost centuries ago.”
“Well, you know what they say, ‘Nothing ventured …’ Anyway, call me after you talk to her. TTFN.”
She checked the time. Almost 11 p.m. in England. Too late to call her aunt.
The next day, she was assigned a robbery investigation and forgot to call her.
JETT
After breakfast, I called Brenda Carrigan. “Hi, Brenda, it’s Jett Jorgensen. I’m thinking of selling some of my family’s antiques. Can you stop by around ten this morning and take a look?”
“I’d love to.” After a brief pause, she said, “I guess you changed the gate code.”
“Yes, just press the call button, and I’ll open the gate. See you at ten.” I hung up before she had a chance to ask questions.
Sophia grinned. “She’s coming?”
“Yep, she took the bait.” I checked my watch. “We have plenty of time to deal with the breakfast dishes before she arrives.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t cancel on us.” Sophia stacked the plates. “We should meet with her in the great hall. All the swords, spears, and battle axes hanging on the walls will intimidate her.”
Thirty minutes later, the buzzer indicated someone was at the front gate. I checked the security camera and recognized Brenda. Memories of the incident in a guest bedroom with her and the mayor flooded my mind as I hit the button to open the gate.
Sophia said, “We’d better get our roles straight. You play good cop, and I’ll play bad cop.”
“Something tells me you’ve played that role before.” I smiled and headed for the front door when the bell rang.
Brenda entered the foyer and ignored the puppies, her eyes eagerly scanning the room, searching for potential treasures. Her eyes paused on a life-sized oil painting of a Viking chieftain, mounted on the wall beside the south staircase.
I took her arm. “Let’s go into the great hall first.” The dogs followed.
As we passed the statues guarding the twin staircases, she pointed. “Are the winged Valkyries for sale?”
“They fit so well with the doorbell’s theme they should probably remain in the foyer.” I indicated one of the sofas. “Have a seat and I’ll tell you what I have in mind.” The dogs reclined at my feet.
She sat, her head on a swivel, taking in all the paintings, antiques, statues, and weapons in the room. Her gaze landed on a Viking broadsword gleaming on the oak-paneled east wall between tall windows.
“Brenda, this is my dear friend, Sophia Calabrese of the New York Calabreses.”
Sophia indicated a tray on the coffee table filled with cups, saucers, cream and sugar, and a large pot. “Nice to meet you, Brenda. Care for a cup of coffee?”
Brenda sat up straighter. “Uh, you’re not related to Don Francesco Calabrese, right?”
Sophia kept a deadpan expression. “I’m his daughter. You got a problem with that?”
“No, no, of course not.” Brenda wrung her hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, and I’d love a cup of coffee.”
I waited until Brenda had stirred cream and sugar into her cup. “The real reason I invited you is I’m looking into my parents’ murders, and I need to know one thing from you.”
“Your parents were murdered?” She set her cup down. “I thought they died in a plane crash.”
“They did, but the airplane was sabotaged.” I held up a hand. “Relax, I know you had nothing to do with it. The thing is, I’ve traced the clues back to the night before my parents left for Freeport. It was the same night Lola Brown went missing two years ago. Do you remember that story?”
“Yes, it was a mild Friday night in mid-January. I remember because Andy and I attended an outdoor charity event that night on the waterfront terrace of the Banyan Harbor Inn. The mayor was supposed to M.C. the event, but he claimed he had the flu and couldn’t make it.” She frowned, like she was recalling something that made her angry. “I heard the low rumble of a big inboard engine and spotted his speedboat leaving the harbor. That lying snot!”
“Did you recogniz
e Peabody at the helm?” I asked, excited.
“No, it was too dark to see his face, but Lusty Lady was illuminated by the stern light. It was definitely his boat.” She shook her head. “That should have been my first clue I couldn’t trust him.”
Sophia smirked. “Your first clue should have been that he was cheating on his wife with you.”
“Hey, we all make mistakes, and I’m paying for mine big time. My divorce will be final next month, and the cops still consider me a suspect in the mayor’s murder.” She huffed. “I’d bet anything his wife offed him.”
“Maybe she did.” I stood. “Sorry to bring you here under false pretenses, but thanks for coming.”
Brenda stood. “Happy to help. I owe you after that fiasco upstairs.” She turned to Sophia. “Good to meet you, Mrs. Calabrese.” She hurried to the door.
Sophia picked up the coffee tray. “One down and two to go. Who’s coming next?”
“Dolores Delgado will be here at eleven-thirty. She thinks I want to hire one of her personal trainers to do in-home training.” I opened the terrace door and led the puppies outside.
Armed guards moved to either side of the backyard so the dogs could do their business. I waved to the men. Everything seemed peaceful. I doubted the killer would try anything with so much security at my house.
At 11:30, Dolores made a fuss over the puppies when she entered the foyer. “What adorable little doggies. Are they German shepherds?”
“Almost.” I explained their parentage and led her into the great hall, where Sophia had placed a tray of iced glasses with a pitcher of iced tea on a coffee table.
“Dolores Delgado, meet my dear friend, Sophia Calabrese of the New York Calabreses.” I motioned for her to sit beside Sophia on the sofa by the coffee table.
“Nice to meet you, Dolores. Iced tea?” Sophia handed her a full glass.
“Thank you, Sophia.” She set her glass on the table. “You’re not related to the late Don Francesco Calabrese, are you?
“He was my father, may he rest in peace,” she said, crossing herself. “You got a problem with that?”
“Oh, no, no, it’s just that my late husband probably knew him. He had ties with the New York Mafia. I didn’t know any of them personally.” She took a big gulp of iced tea.
“I’m glad you understand how the family works.” Sophia paused for effect. “Let’s get down to business. Jett, tell her the real reason she’s here.”
I explained what I needed to know and why. “Any chance you were with Mayor Peabody that night?”
“Later that weekend, Lola’s body was found by fishermen, right?” Dolores asked.
“Yes. Do you remember what you did that Friday night?” I reached down and stroked my puppies’ little heads.
Her face lit up. “Yes, that was the weekend Manny took me to New York. I went shopping on Fifth Avenue while he met with suppliers.” She glanced at Sophia. “He was probably meeting with your relatives.”
“Did you fly commercial or private?” Sophia refilled her glass.
“American Airlines, first class. We always flew with them. Very safe.” She took another big sip and drained the glass.
I stood. “Sorry to waste your time, but I needed to know if you were with Peabody that night.”
She smiled. “No problem. Let me know if you decide to work out with a trainer. My guys are pros, and they’re easy on the eyes, if you know what I mean.” She winked.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for coming, Dolores.” I escorted her to the door.
Sophia peeked at her watch. “What time is Victoria Master coming?”
“After lunch at two o’clock. I’m hungry. Let’s make grilled ham, tomato, and cheese sandwiches.” I headed for the kitchen and plugged in the George Foreman grill.
Our lunch was ready in minutes. We sat on the terrace under a big sun umbrella and enjoyed our sandwiches.
“What if Victoria wasn’t with the mayor that night? Any other ideas?” Sophia took another bite of her grilled sandwich.
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. We deserve a break in this case. I’m feeling optimistic that Victoria will be the missing piece of the puzzle.”
Our last hope arrived promptly at two o’clock. She wore a cream sheath and a navy linen jacket. When she spotted the dogs, she said, “They’re cute, but I can’t get dog hair on my clothes. I have meetings with clients all day. You understand.”
When we settled in the great hall, I introduced her to Sophia the same way I had earlier with the other women.
Victoria stiffened, and her eyes widened. “Jett, I heard your great-great-grandfather came here from Denmark by way of New York, but I didn’t know your family was connected.”
Sophia, in her most serious tone, said, “Some things are better left unsaid, capiche?”
“Yes, of course, forget I mentioned it.” Victoria took a long drink of iced tea.
“Let’s get down to business.” Sophia gazed at me and back to her. “Jett has something she needs to ask, and it’s important you answer truthfully.”
I explained my quest to find my parents’ killer and that I knew it wasn’t her. “I just need to know if you were with Phil Peabody that night. If you were, I promise no one need know. I’m just trying to narrow down some leads.”
She stared at her hands and swallowed. “Phil met me at my real estate office that night. My husband was in Vegas for a real estate lawyers convention.” Her face flushed. “I have a sleeper sofa in a back office. We were … you know.”
“Victoria, I can’t thank you enough for telling me this. Any chance you know who took out his speedboat that night?” I tried not to look excited.
“Sorry, he didn’t mention his boat.” She frowned. “He knew I never went out on the water. Motion sickness.”
“Thanks for coming today. You’ve been a big help.” I walked her out.
When I returned, Sophia said, “That’s a major piece of the puzzle. If Peabody’s wife can tell us who borrowed the boat, we might have our killer.”
I rubbed my temples. “She already said she thought her husband took it out.”
“Then ask if he ever loaned it to anyone and hope it’s a short list.”
“If her pilot would return my calls, maybe he could tell me if anyone was with the mayor when he talked to my parents at the airport.” I licked my lips. “We’re so close I can taste it.”
I called Hunter and filled him in.
“Sounds like maybe the killer was Peabody’s friend, like you thought, and something made him think he couldn’t trust him anymore, even though it had been two years since Lola’s murder. Better look into news stories, like you did when you figured out the motive for your parents’ murders.”
“First, I’ll try to get the name of the man who borrowed the boat the night Lola was killed. It’ll be easier to know what to look for in news reports if I know who to connect with the story.” Worried about him, I asked, “How’s everything at your place? Anything suspicious happen?”
“Everything’s good here. Keep your head down until we nail that guy, and don’t tell anyone other than Gwen and Sophia that you suspect it wasn’t Peabody or a hitman.”
“Okay, and you be careful too. I don’t want to lose my favorite relative, and Sophia lives for a glimpse of you.”
He laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of disappointing Sophia or you. Take care, sweetheart.”
I called Gwen and brought her up to speed on everything we’d learned.
“You’re way ahead of me, Jett. My investigation is going nowhere, but the good news is Clint asked me out to dinner again tonight. I really like him.”
“Good, have fun and tell me all about it later.”
Thirty-Two
GWEN
She sat in front of her police computer and slowly scrolled through the case files, desperate to find something that would help her solve the murders. Close to noon, her cell played “God Save the Queen.” It was Uncle Clive.
/> “Gwen dear, Liz has become quite ill. Her heart is failing. She may not last long, and she’s asking for you. Can you come right away?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll catch the Miami-to-London flight tonight. I’ll call you when I know my arrival time.” She booked the British Airways flight to London online and waited for the printer to spit out her boarding pass.
How had Aunt Liz changed from vibrant to terminal so quickly? She was only seventy. Surely the doctors were mistaken.
Chief Rod Malone was very understanding and told her to take as much leave as she needed. What a relief. Her next call was to Clint.
“I have to cancel our date. Aunt Liz is seriously ill, and I’m flying out tonight.”
“Sorry about your aunt, Gwen. I’ll drive you to the airport. What time should I pick you up?”
“Four o’clock this afternoon. Thank you for taking me.” She hung up and called Jett, explained the situation, and promised, “I’ll call you when I know more.”
Her flight left on time. The next morning, Gwen awoke to the scent of warm croissants and coffee in the first-class section. The jet landed in Heathrow on schedule, and Clive’s chauffeur was waiting for her in the arrivals area outside U.K. Customs. He ushered her into the back seat of the Rolls and deposited her luggage in the trunk. She fell asleep on the long drive to the castle.
Her uncle awakened her with a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for coming, Gwen. I fear I’m losing my dear Elizabeth. She suffered a massive heart attack yesterday. The doctor said there’s nothing he can do.” He sounded sad and exhausted. “She’s been asking for you.”
“I’d better see her right away.” She hugged Clive and followed him into the centuries-old castle perched on a hill overlooking Colchester.
In a large bedroom on the second floor, a massive antique four-poster bed seemed to swallow her frail aunt. She had an oxygen mask strapped to her face and an IV line connected to her left arm.
Gwen sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “Aunt Liz, how are you?”