Murder at the Million Dollar Pier

by Gwen Mayo

  “Oh, I don’t want to take them that far away from their patients. Could you give me directions?”

  Soon, the pair were standing in front of the elevators.

  Rena leaned close to Percival. “Are you going to tell the nurses she’s your niece?”

  “Perhaps,” the professor ventured, studying the hospital directory. “Although I haven’t tried impersonating a physician yet. There was a doctor I knew in—”

  Detective Knaggs burst through the door of the stairwell. He charged in their direction, then stopped short. “What are you doing here, Professor Pettijohn?”

  Percival gave him an innocent smile. “We’re here to visit Mitch Grant, of course. He’s a friend.”

  Rena quickly fell in with the ruse. “We read this morning that he’d had been shot. What a brave man.”

  “Did you see a woman come this way? Possibly in a wheelchair?”

  “There was a woman getting into a taxicab when we came in,” Rena said.

  “What did she look like?”

  “I couldn’t tell you much outside of her being slender,” the hat lady replied. “She had bandages around her head, much like one of those Egyptian mummies.”

  “D—drat!” Knaggs said, and bolted off.

  “I think that our plans have been preempted,” Pettijohn said.

  Mr. Cosgrove arrived at the jail early, but not entirely bright. Cornelia thought he looked tired, which was no surprise given the hours he’d kept last night. Under other circumstances, she would have felt sorry for him. Today, she took some pleasure in knowing he’d had a bad night. It served him right for his abysmal treatment of Teddy. Any attorney worth his salt would have exonerated her by now.

  “Good morning, Miss Pettijohn,” Cosgrove said. “I am told that Detective Knaggs went to the hospital and is not expected to return for some time.”

  He took a copy of the morning paper from his briefcase and handed it through the bars. “It is rumored that the mayor was not favorably impressed with his investigation once Mr. Grant’s story hit the press.”

  Cornelia took slow steps toward the newspaper. “Mitch is back at work?”

  “No, he is still in the hospital under heavy sedation.”

  “Then how did he …”

  Cosgrove held up a hand. “Your Mr. Grant is a determined man. The hospital staff left him and the emergency room desk unattended for a few moments to tend another patient. My sources tell me he got out of bed to commandeer the phone before they returned.”

  He chuckled. “I also hear Miss Hornbuckle is livid that he scooped her.”

  She scanned the front page, then turned to Page Two. “It says here that he was taken to surgery.”

  “The bullet hit a rib and nicked his small intestine, but please don’t fret. Surgery went well. They tell me the damage is minor. The nurses will keep him sedated today because they don’t want him to undo last night’s work. If he can behave, Dr. Bishop expects him to make a full recovery.”

  Cornelia’s voice was gruff. “Abdominal injuries are never minor. He has a serious risk of infection.”

  “I think the same thing could be said of your injuries.” Mr. Cosgrove pointed to the bandages on her legs. “I’ve requested permission to have a doctor examine those burns. You should have been taken to the hospital with the others.”

  “I’ve been checking them,” Teddy said, “but I fully agree with you. They should be disinfected with Dakin’s Solution and covered more securely. This is not the most hygienic environment.”

  “No. I hope that I can get both of you released, although they may let Miss Pettijohn go first.”

  “That’s not fair,” Teddy protested, “I’ve been here longer.”

  “You have the more serious charge. Despite Miss Orlov’s statement yesterday, which I believe should have absolved you, Detective Knaggs still believes he has cause to take you to trial.”

  “Of course he does. He’s been set against me from the start.”

  “Then we will have to change his mind. Let’s start with the hair comb. I know we’ve been over this before …”

  “I lost it over a week ago,” Teddy said. “Well before the murder.”

  “At the Stevens’ table?”

  Cornelia puffed. “Once again, I saw it hit the floor. It went under the tablecloth.”

  “Did you buy it here in town?”

  “No,” Teddy said. “I hadn’t had time to shop yet.”

  Cosgrove nodded. “Perhaps from a nearby town?”

  “Not unless you count Lexington as nearby.”

  “Kentucky,” Cornelia clarified.

  “So, it is unlikely that someone purchased a duplicate here to plant on the yacht.”

  Teddy smiled. “Oh, that would be so clever! I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “It doesn’t do us much good, I fear,” the attorney said. “If you had to guess, who do you think picked the comb up?”

  “I don’t know,” Teddy said. “I was too upset at the time.”

  “I believed it was Evelyn until yesterday,” Cornelia said.

  Cosgrove turned to her with interest. “Why?”

  “Because she was dead set on convicting Teddy. The papers said nothing about whether family members visited the yacht before the race.”

  “She is rather the witch,” Teddy added.

  Their visitor didn’t seem impressed. “What changed your mind?”

  “The gentleman from Westshore Yachts described the woman who purchased the yacht cap. I had recently met Lucy Rivers, and it was a good fit. She also matches the description in the newspapers of the mystery woman—perhaps more so, since they said she was tall. After I returned to the salon to ask questions, Miss Rivers’ behavior spoke for itself.”

  Rena and the professor went to visit Mitch next, but received the same rebuff from the nurse as Knaggs had.

  She looked up at Pettijohn after they exited the hospital. “Are we going to the jail again?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “I think a trip to the airfield might prove more advantageous.”

  Her brows, carefully plucked into delicate arches, wrinkled. “The airfield?”

  “Stevens’ son, Mac, has offices there.”

  “Wouldn’t he be spending the day with his mother, or at the business office at a time like this?”

  “He wasn’t at the table, and if he is a wise lad, he will steer clear of his mother and sister for the time being. Reporters will be swarming the Stevens building, so that would also be an undesirable location for him.”

  “What about his home?”

  “That would be the next place the press would check. Fewer of them will know where his hangar at the airfield is, and it has guards.”

  “How smart of you,” Rena commented. “What do you plan to talk to him about?”

  “As the only living eyewitness on the yacht, he may have information he doesn’t know he possesses.”

  “Didn’t Mr. Cosgrove advise us to stay away from the family?”

  Percival helped Rena into the passenger seat of Cornelia’s car. “He meant the distaff side.”

  “I don’t recall him being that specific.”

  He shrugged. “If we learn something useful, he will forgive us. If not—well, we simply won’t mention the visit. It will be faster for us to go now than to wait while Cosgrove engages an agent of inquiry and explains the circumstances to him.”

  His argument was dubious. She doubted that he believed it himself. Still, the day was bright and warm, perfect for a lengthy drive across the county. Rena removed her sunhat and opened the window. “This was farmland the last time I came through here. Progress has certainly been at work.”

  “Yes, although Progress should stick to the hammock land and leave the marshes alone. They’re not suitable for construction.”

  “That doesn’t stop them here,” Rena said. “Beach Drive was on the bay when I moved to the Berg. All that land between the road and waterfront was created from swamp. In Tampa, a develope
r took two tiny keys and made them into islands by dredging up mud from the Bay. They’re going to build a resort with three hotels on it.”

  “These developers are too eager for their own good,” Pettijohn opined. “Too many of them want to build luxury hotels or houses that are cheek to jowl so they can crowd as many customers in as possible. The coastline here is prone to hurricanes. They could lose their investments in one fell swoop. Then, there’s the potential for flooding—”

  “But I thought you and Miss Teddy were going to make a home here.”

  Her companion hesitated briefly. “Well, we heard sweet promises and saw beautiful pictures of the ocean before we arrived. Now that we’re here, I’ve seen too many houses lined up like kernels on an ear of corn. A man deserves some space, and to see something other than the walls of his neighbors’ houses.”

  “So does a woman,” she said.

  “What? Oh, yes, so does a woman.”

  Rena pointed ahead. “Watch out, sir!”

  “What’s this?” The professor slowed the sedan to a near-stop. They were at the end of a line of vehicles creeping at the speed of gopher turtles.

  “It’s a beautiful Saturday, so you’re caught in beach traffic. Some of it will turn off at the Jungle Prada.”

  “That’s where we will be turning off, too,” Pettijohn grumbled.

  “Oh,” the elfish woman said. “At least it is a nice day.”

  The professor gave her a sidelong look, but kept further opinions to himself.

  Cosgrove left when the physician arrived, a Dr. Urich. He winced after he uncovered the burns.

  “What an odd pattern. How did you get these?”

  “I got tangled in a medieval torture device at the salon.”

  “A what?”

  “A permanent wave machine with hot curlers,” Teddy said.

  “Same thing,” Cornelia grumbled.

  “Sounds like a dangerous place.” After his inspection, Dr. Urich cleaned the lesser burns with hypochlorite solution and applied gauze with salve to the more serious ones. After the standard admonition to keep the area clean, he left.

  Once he was out the door, Shirley and her mother entered and approached their cell.

  “Teddy! Miss Cornelia!” the young woman cried. “I’m so sorry you’re here!”

  “It’s nice to know someone agrees with us,” Teddy said. “Detective Knaggs is convinced that this is where we belong.”

  “He’s wrong,” Shirley said. “I think the morning paper completely vindicates you.”

  “The detective doesn’t believe everything he reads.” Cornelia nodded to Anna Wheeler, who was carrying a basket. “Do you have a file in there?”

  Anna laughed. “No, but they checked.” She opened the lid and brought out biscuits wrapped in wax paper. “I didn’t know what they were feeding you in here,” she said, handing one to each woman.

  Cornelia eyes pricked with moisture. It was a simple gesture, but so touching. “You’re so kind,” she managed to say before taking a bite. The biscuit was light and flaky, the way it should be, with a slice of ham between the halves. For a moment, she was back in Kentucky, at her mother’s breakfast table.

  Anna produced a bottle of milk next, but the matron came over. “They can’t have the bottle. It has to go into cups.”

  “We’re public enemies,” Teddy said, fetching the cups left from their first breakfast.

  They each had a second ham biscuit, washing it down with cool milk.

  “Thank you both so much,” Teddy said afterward. “I feel quite fortified.”

  Percival’s impatience faded when they finally arrived at the airfield. The young man he’d seen before opened the gate.

  “Nice day to fly,” he said. “You have another gal with you today. I didn’t know you were such a sheik.”

  “My previous companion was my niece,” the professor said. “This is Miss Orlov, a friend.”

  “If you say so,” he said, and winked.

  They rolled past the jokester and entered the property.

  “You’re going to get a reputation.” Rena glanced around with interest. “I’ve never seen an airplane up close before.”

  “If young Mac is on the ground, you may have the opportunity.”

  Mac Stevens was not only on the ground, but in his office. He was on the telephone, surrounded by stacks of notes and telegrams. “Yes, you can make delivery on Monday. The regular staff will be in. Yes ... yes ... oh, and Mother says thank you for the flowers.”

  He rang off and stood. “Professor, what brings you here? Are Nurse Teddy and Nurse Cornelia out of jail yet?”

  “I fear they are not,” Pettijohn said. “This is Miss Orlov. She came from Sarasota to make a statement on Teddy’s behalf. She’s helping me.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Mac said. “I assume this is not a social call.”

  “No, we both have straits to navigate,” the professor replied. “We may yet prevail in freeing my niece, but the authorities won’t budge where Theodora is concerned.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mac said. “I’m sure she’ll be freed. I read in the papers that you were engaged to her. My congratulations for that.”

  “Thank you.” The professor looked doleful. “If we had wed in Midway, it would have saved us a great deal of grief. Instead, I have been forced into making my own investigation. Mr. Cosgrove is hiring an agent of inquiry, but I would like to spare the women of your family if I could. Would you be willing to answer a few questions?”

  The phone rang; Mac ignored it. “Sure. Let’s go outside; I’ve been stuck in here all morning.”

  They entered the hangar first. After allowing Rena a few minutes to walk around Mac’s Jenny and express her admiration, they stepped back into the sunlight.

  “My apologies in advance,” Pettijohn warned, “but I’m interested in getting an account of what happened on the boat that day. I’m certain the police questioned you ad nauseam about it, but they haven’t seen fit to share their information with the defense.”

  Mac drew in a deep breath. “Where should I start?”

  “When you boarded the yacht. Did you board at the same time? Was anyone else there?”

  “No one else was there. Father was already on board, admiring his new cap. If only I’d known ... but how could I?”

  “No one would have suspected,” the professor reassured him. “Did you see the interior of the box, or the card?”

  “I didn’t really look at either long,” Mac replied. “Dad was pleased the Yacht Club had chosen sides. He put his old cap in the box with the card and stowed it away. After that, we prepared to launch.”

  “So, there was nothing else in the box?”

  “Not that I saw, but as I said, I wasn’t really paying attention. I was more concerned about the race and what would happen if Dad won. Harry is a friend, and Violet adores him.”

  “Were you thinking of slowing the vessel down?” Rena asked, and they both stared at her. “To help them, I mean.”

  Mac managed a smile. “I toyed with the idea. I mean, they were entitled to their share of happiness. There’s not enough of that in the world.”

  “No, there’s not.” The professor stroked his beard, which was brilliant white in the sun. “Anything unusual or remarkable during the launch?”

  “No, the weather was good and the wind was with us. The only thing that startled me was seeing Violet on the Silver Breeze. She was dressed like a boy and had her hair tucked under her cap, but it was her. I don’t think Dad spotted her—at least, he didn’t let on if he had. He was watching for the flag.”

  “When did you first realize something was wrong?”

  Mac drew in another breath. “Dad was fine for the first half of the race. We were on the way back when I noticed how hard he was breathing. At first, I thought maybe it was because we’d fallen behind. Then he started swaying, and I heard him ... heard him gasping for air. I tried to take control, but he wouldn’t let go of the helm. H
e was determined to catch up with Harry’s vessel.”

  Rena took the young man’s hand and patted it. “You poor boy.”

  Mac absent-mindedly put his hand over hers. “I was at the boom when he collapsed. I rushed over to help him instead of taking control of the vessel. Then I heard the penalty alarm and looked up. The penalty flag was waving, and we were headed for the pier.” He winced. “I couldn’t get the ship turned in time.”

  “You were trying to help your father,” Rena said in soothing tones.

  “I had hold of the wheel, but Dad almost went into the water. Probably would have if the front of the ship hadn’t crumpled. I dragged him back and looked for a safe way off. Then the marina crew showed up to help. We both went to the hospital. I was okay outside of some bruises, but Dad wasn’t.”

  “My apologies for making you recall it again,” the professor said. “What happened to the Nittany Nob afterward? The authorities towed it away.”

  “They took it to an impound area,” Mac said. “Not that it’s liable to get stolen.”

  “Have you had access to the vessel since?”

  Mac shook his head. “I haven’t wanted access. I’d be happy to never see it again.”

  “Understandable,” Pettijohn replied. “What about your family? Or young Mr. Brockman?”

  Mac frowned. “Why are you asking?”

  “Miss Orlov here has been an excellent witness for our defense, but we cannot account for an item that was found on the Nittany Nob by the police.”

  “An item? Besides the cap?”

  “A decorative hair comb,” Pettijohn said. “It belongs to Theodora. She lost it on our first night at the Vinoy, and my niece is convinced she saw it slide under ...” He stopped speaking when he saw Mac’s flush.

  “I picked it up,” he said. “I meant to return it to Miss Teddy, and I’ve been carrying it in my jacket ever since. You were always out of the hotel when I dropped by, though, and then—well, I took it off after the crash because I thought I’d have to swim for it with Dad. It must have fallen out.”

  Rena cried out with joy.

  Pettijohn’s eyes had become radiant sapphires. “The police found the comb on the yacht. It’s their one piece of physical proof connecting Theodora with the cap.”