No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7

by Barton, Sara M.

  “A guy like that’s likely to have more than one,” Angelo decided. “The colder they are, the meaner they are, especially when they’re mobbed up. They toss out their women like used tissues. They’re real bastards.”

  “The question is why is this guy so bent on killing you? Who benefits from your death?” Bob wanted to know. I didn’t have an answer for him. “Do you have a will?”

  “Declan just told me last week I should revise it, but I didn’t have time to sit down and go over everything, especially since I still don’t know what happened with Maura’s handling of the insurance money.”

  “How much did you get after Henri died?” Bob asked. He whistled when I told him about the two-million dollar policy.

  “I didn’t even know that my husband had done that. And then, when Maura’s advice was sour on Prevenue, I transferred a lot of the money into gold and other precious metals, even though she insisted that wasn’t a good idea.”

  “You overrode her advice to you?” Bob looked at me with fresh interest.

  “Yes. Declan told me these things often happen when you’re dealing with that much money, but I was afraid I would lose even more if I didn’t have a safe investment. I didn’t really care if there wasn’t much of a return on it.”

  “How much of the two million did you put into precious metals?”

  “About $650,000. All together, Henri’s estate was worth about three and a half million, with the sale of our home. I didn’t think it was a big deal to put some money aside for a rainy day, just in case my other investments went bad.” Angelo folded his arms and gave me a big whistle.

  “Hedging your bets because you don’t trust your financial planner. Interesting.”

  “I only used Maura Trelawney because Declan recommended her.”

  “Did she have access to that investment?” Bob made some notes on his pad. I saw him draw dollar signs for emphasis after he scribbled a word I couldn’t read.

  “It wasn’t part of the portfolio she was managing for me,” I told the men. “I’m the only one authorized to handle it.

  “Independent. Did you also buy your new place yourself?” Angelo inquired.

  “Yes, I did. Declan actually didn’t think it was such a great idea for me to move to New Rochelle. He argued against it. He wanted me to move into his place, but I felt like I needed something of my own. My plan was to get back to work as an artist, and I needed studio space.”

  “So that’s not part of any kind of trust?” I shook my head and Bob went on asking me questions. “Do you have a mortgage on the place? And are you the owner of record?”

  “I paid cash for it and yes, it’s in my name.”

  “How much did you pay?”

  “A little over half a million dollars. It’s a two-bedroom, two bath place with a den.”

  “So, out of about three and a half million dollars, you’ve got control over a little more than a million of it directly, with the rest in the hands of the person managing your finances?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who took over from Maura Trelawney, after she was murdered?” I could tell Bob’s interest was whetted.

  “Her replacement at Oracle was Lorena del Gatos.”

  “And you sat down with her, to go over your financial situation?” Angelo was equally curious.

  “Actually, she canceled the first meeting we scheduled because her mother was sick in Miami and she had to fly down there. Then, we had a second meeting set up, but she said it would be best to wait, because there were three major stocks in my portfolio that were undergoing transition because the corporations were being reshuffled.”

  “What kind of stocks were these?” asked Bob.

  “Two were banks and one was a telecommunication company.”

  “So? When did you meet with her?”

  “I didn’t, actually. When I tried to schedule a third meeting, after the first two were canceled, she told me she had to be in Hong Kong for a conference, but she would be in touch when she returned. That was three weeks ago. I got busy with the cruise, so I haven’t gotten back to her yet. But she’s sent me monthly reports on the account. I’m making a little profit with most of the stocks. She actually suggested I turn in the precious metals now and consolidate the portfolio at Oracle.”

  Chapter Six —

  “Is she married?” Angelo asked. “Is she good-looking?”

  “I never saw her. I couldn’t tell you anything about her, other than she’s been at Oracle longer than Maura.”

  Bob and Angelo exchanged a glance that seemed to convey something important without actually sharing a word. I wondered what that was all about, but I hesitated to question them. Bob wrote a couple of things on his pad before he looked up at me.

  “How are you at handling bad news?”

  “What kind of bad news?” My throat suddenly felt dry.

  “Ange, go get a copy of the note and we’ll let her take a look.” Bob and I waited in the silence during the minute Angelo was out of the cubicle. Bob didn’t seem to be in any rush to explain the details of the note I was about to see.

  “Here it is, boss.” He reached over me and handed it to Bob, who took one long look at it before he handed it to me.

  “We found this in Cabin 619B.”

  I took the piece of paper from him with hands that shook. From the expression on their faces, I knew this was not good news. I got through the first paragraph before I recoiled.

  “But this is a suicide note!” I cried. “I didn’t write this. Surely you can’t believe I did!”

  “Keep reading,” Bob instructed me, his eyes fastened on my face. I went on. The letter said that I was taking this cruise as a final fling because I was now penniless, having lost everything through bad decisions made by me and by Maura. It went on to say that after Maura’s death, I insisted on handling my own finances, and that’s where I ran afoul of the banks holding the notes on my loans.

  “But I don’t have any loans!” I insisted, tears of frustration and dismay welling up in my eyes. “I got an allowance from Oracle to cover my monthly expenses. Everything else was invested to provide a return!”

  “Did you also have an accountant?” Angelo asked me.

  “No. I paid my monthly bills on time.”

  “Did you know your condo is on the market?” Bob took a piece of paper out of the folder he had on the table and slid it across to me.

  “What?” Numb, I sat there, unable to absorb what I was hearing.

  “Your house is listed as being for sale. The asking price is $499,000.”

  “Where did you get this?”

  “It’s my job to keep on top of this kind of thing, Mariem.”

  “But you never said a word to me! How could you not tell me this?” I was incredulous at the level of deception.

  “Look at it from our point of view,” Angelo suggested, shifting his bulk in his chair. “We find a suicide note after someone tries to toss you overboard. We’ve got a potential killer on the Beauty of the Seas. And when we start digging for information on you, our security people in New York find out that you’re being robbed blind while you’re cruising to Bermuda. By the way, you and Declan got married two weeks ago in Westport. The paperwork was filed last week. Not only is he your spouse, he’s claiming that he’s been trying to salvage as much of your money as he could, but you just owe too much to too many creditors. Interestingly enough, the creditors seem to own companies that only exist on paper.”

  “In other words, you’ve been swindled,” said the former homicide detective. “And if you don’t die, they’re going to get caught with their weinies in the hot coals.”

  “This can’t be happening. It just can’t be. Why would they steal from me this way? Why would they do this?”

  “It took the insurance company a while to release that money, correct?”

  I glanced at Angelo. His eyes were razor sharp and I was grateful that he was on my side, because I got the sense he was onto something really big.
/>
  “There was a question about Henri’s body. It took a couple of months to wash up on shore down in Miami.”

  “Was Declan a witness to Henri’s disappearance?” I nodded slowly.

  “Maura was there, too. They were at a financial conference on investment strategies for the next century. The boat was taking them for a sightseeing sail.”

  “Who was Henri’s physician? Who was his dentist?”

  “Dr. Klaus called me after the news broke that Henri had fallen overboard and told me that he would be happy to cooperate with dental x-rays, but Declan told me that Henri’s dentist was a Dr. Su Mi Chin and that Dr. Klaus had recently retired. By the time Henri’s body was found, Dr. Klaus really had retired, so I just assumed that Dr. Chin had Henri’s dental records.”

  “You know what I find really odd?” Angelo stood up to stretch his legs. He took a couple of steps and came back to me. He towered over me for a moment, his hands on his hips.

  “Your husband went overboard. Someone tried to throw you overboard. Seems to me you’re not safe as long as you’re at sea.”

  I glanced at Bob. He was watching me. I remembered the conversation we had this morning in my cabin, about that trip to Myanmar.

  “Pattern,” Bob said. “Not a coincidence.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” Angelo agreed. I wasn’t sure what passed between them, but something changed.

  “Mariem, you said Declan Dowd suggested you take this cruise because the United States attorney’s office was investigating connections between you, Maura, and Henri?” Bob looked at me expectantly.

  “Right.”

  “We called Assistant U. S. Attorney Megan Plourde. She had no idea what we were talking about when we asked if you were about to be called to testify. Not only is Maura Trelawney’s file closed, the man who was suspected of killing her was himself murdered in Honduras two months ago, during a shootout with the cops down there.”

  “I don’t understand. What are you telling me? That there’s no grand jury investigation?”

  “That’s exactly what we’re telling you.”

  “Why would Declan lie about that?” I thought back to the conversation we’d had. We argued about me taking this cruise. I wanted to stay in New Rochelle and work on a series of new paintings for an upcoming exhibit. Declan said I was endangering my future by staying.

  “I’m still disturbed by that suicide note,” answered Angelo, taking his seat again, his legs thrust out in front of him. “It stinks to high heaven, especially since someone went to a lot of trouble to take over your worldly goods.”

  “Is Declan really claiming that I’m his wife? Did he put my condo on the market? Why would he do all that? It doesn’t make any sense. It’s…bizarre.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” agreed Bob. “It’s so bizarre, it actually makes sense to me.”

  “It does?”

  “It does, Mariem. You see, someone went to an awful lot of trouble to set you up. That took months. And then Declan wanted you on this cruise. It’s not just because someone wants your money, although it’s clear that’s a goal. Someone needs you dead because you’re a threat. You have to look like a suicide. That tells me they’ve laid the groundwork, so that when investigators come in after you’re dead, the facts will all jive. Folks will sign on the dotted line and release your estate to your heir.” Angelo put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, thinking hard.

  “Do I have an heir?” I wondered. “I told Bob I didn’t do a will yet.”

  “Didn’t Declan want you to marry him sooner, rather than later?” Bob put his pen down and picked up a bottle of water. He took his time unscrewing the cap, and took a long swig, and then recapped it. “Did you ever give him power of attorney for you?”

  “No,” I insisted. “Never.”

  “Not even after the mugging or the traffic accident?”

  “He wanted me to, but I refused.”

  “Maybe you had those accidents because he wanted you to do that,” Bob suggested. “Maybe he was driving your behavior by controlling not only the information you had, but also by terrorizing you. He got you to turn to him for help, didn’t he?”

  That sunk in as I sat there, minutes ticking by, reviewing my relationship with Declan over the last two years. From the moment that the federal investigators showed up on my doorstep, with their concerns that Henri was killed by a cartel in retaliation for planning to cooperate with the Department of Justice, Declan wanted to be in charge of Henri’s reputation and business affairs.

  “Angelo, we’re moving her again. What suites do we have available that would be appropriate from a security standpoint?”

  “We’ve got the Windward on Deck 11 or the Grand Family on Deck 7. The Grand Family gives us more room to spread out and the verandah has a little more privacy.”

  “Let’s set her up in that and put a watch in place. She’ll have the private bedroom, but we can keep her safe up there.” Bob turned to me, addressing me with a note of compassion in his voice. “I know this isn’t the way you planned to enjoy the cruise, but do you mind if we set you up in one of our larger suites and keep you out of the public spaces until the Beauty docks in Bermuda? The suite has an outside hot tub, butler service, and plenty of amenities. We’ll do our best to make the rest of your journey as pleasant as possible, under the circumstances, Mariem.”

  “That sounds fine. I appreciate what you’re doing for me.” I gave Bob a small smile in return.

  “Angelo, grab Thompson and Fortuna. Do a sweep, leave Fortuna in place, and come back for Mariem.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  Half an hour later, I was led into a large suite with a master bedroom, a twin bedroom, a large living area, a dining area, and a verandah that overlooked the bow of the ship.

  “Think of this as your home away from home for the next five days,” Angelo announced. “We’ll have our people take shifts. You won’t be alone, but we’ll try not to be intrusive.”

  “Thanks.”

  Twenty minutes later, I was enjoying lunch on the verandah, served by Joseph, a gracious man with a gentle manner. Liz Thompson arrived as I was having a cup of coffee. Bright-eyed and cheerful, she got to work.

  “What do you like for movies? We’ve got a DVD player.” She got to work picking out a handful of choices. I left her to it, with one rule — no scary movies. My nerves were already shot. There was a knock at the suite door, so she answered it.

  “Lizzie,” said a younger man wearing a loud plaid shirt and khaki shorts, brown leather sandals on his feet, as he came through the door. He looked like a tourist. His hair was jet black and he sported a gold neck chain. “I brought the cards. I’m going to whoop your fanny this time.”

  “Not likely, unless I fall asleep in the middle of a game, Tony.”

  The two of them played cards at the table out on the verandah while I read. They bantered back and forth throughout the afternoon like siblings, taunting and teasing each other. I joined them around three for an hour’s worth of gin rummy, before taking a soak in the hot tub. At five, Bob arrived. He brought me a gift bag from the beauty salon. The ladies there had given him the makeup fundamentals — mascara, eye shadow, blush, lipstick, and foundation, all in tiny sample sizes.

  “Thank you,” I smiled, eying the contents of the tiny blue bag.

  “I thought you might want them for when you disembark tomorrow.”

  “I’m leaving the ship?” Panic hit me like a knife wound, terrifying me. Was Ocean Magic kicking me off the ship, to fend on my own? “Do I have to go?”

  “Relax, Mariem!” He squeezed my hand. “We think we’ll have all this wrapped up by then. You’ll be in safe hands. I would never let anyone in danger out of my sight.”

  “Oh,” I sighed.

  “You don’t believe me?” Bob turned to his fellow members of ship security, feigning shock. “She doesn’t believe me!”

  “You should believe him,” said Tony. “The guy is a complete p
ain in the….”

  “What Tony means,” Liz explained, hastily interrupting the younger man, “is that Bob is a consummate professional. He was once Treasury Agent of the Year. He won’t let you down. If anything, he’s overly-cautious.”

  “Which is why I said the guy is a complete pain in the….”

  “Gin!” crowed his opponent as she laid down her cards. “That makes ten dollars and ninety cents you owe me.”

  Bob was joining us for dinner. Joseph set the table for four. At quarter to six, Tony’s pager buzzed.

  “Pickpocket Central is on the hunt. We just got a report of a missing wallet in the casino. Murph is reviewing the tapes, but in the meantime, I’m on deck. Who do you want me to send up as a replacement?”

  “Have Weinstein join us. And tell Zahady to double up on the foot patrols. It looks like it’s going to be a busy night.”

  “Right, boss. By the way, Lizzy, I’ll be back for my money, so don’t spend it all.”

  “What does that mean, Fortuna — you want a rematch? Bring it on, brother!”

  Chapter Seven —

  I excused myself, retreating to the sumptuous bathroom with the little blue bag, a black jersey dress, and my toiletries case in hand. I might not be able to join my fellow passengers in the main dining room, but I could at least look like I was enjoying my cruise. After I showered, I slipped on a pair of snakeskin-print flats, gold button earrings, and a gold necklace. I ran a brush through my curls, dabbed on some makeup, and gave a final glance in the mirror before rejoining the folks in the living room.

  Bob was on the verandah, deep in conversation. Lizzie was talking on her phone. That left the older man in the wild Hawaiian print shirt.

  “You must be Mariem,” he smiled broadly. “You look lovely, my dear.”

  “And you must be Mr. Weinstein,” I replied.

  “One and the same. But call me Sammy. You’re young enough to be my daughter, but if you call me mister, I’ll feel like an old geezer, instead of a man of the world.” He gave me a wink. “Shall we get this party started? Why don’t we decide what we’re having for dinner? I have a menu here.”