Murder in the Air

by Marilyn Levinson

  “Ah ha!” Lydia said. So Ron was no fool, either. “Smart move.”

  Ron nodded his appreciation.

  “That’s just for starters,” Mick said. “I left Bennett and his mother for last. Nothing’s checked out yet regarding Bennett, but a kid with his past doesn’t take to the straight and narrow that quickly.”

  “Denise has a job,” Ron said. “I don’t know if she’s using. Either way, she’s one explosive woman.”

  “She sure is,” Lydia agreed. “She came to see me earlier today. She was so hyper, she might have been high.”

  “Denise came to see you at Carrington House?” Mick asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “What did she want?”

  “She was frantic about Stefano’s being arrested, and asked me to put in a good word for him with Lieutenant Molina. I can only imagine how she’ll react if he’s deported.”

  Their antipasto arrived and the three set to eating with gusto. When their plates were cleared, Luigi brought large steaming plates of homemade ravioli with vodka sauce. Lydia tasted it. “Delicious.”

  Mick gave her a dazzling smile. “I only invite special people here.”

  A warm, cared-for feeling spread through her body. “I’m honored.”

  She ate two of the five ravioli and pushed her plate away.

  “Is that all you can manage?” Mick asked.

  Lydia nodded. His gaze rose past her and Luigi appeared immediately at her elbow.

  “Shall I wrap this for you, signora?”

  “That would be lovely,” Lydia said.

  “Ours, too, Luigi,” Mick said.

  Lydia glanced at their plates. Both were untouched.

  “The salad was enough for me,” Ron admitted. “Bella and I will share this for dinner tomorrow.”

  “The same for Caitlin and me,” Mick said. The two men exchanged glances and laughed heartedly over a shared secret.

  Lifelong friends who have been through hell and back together.

  Five minutes later they were in the car speeding toward Carrington House.

  Behind her, Ron asked, “Lydia, any thoughts regarding who might have killed Danny?”

  The question, coming so unexpectedly after their congenial lunch, stunned her into silence. Mick patted her arm. “Don’t worry. We won’t hold you to it.”

  “I’ve no idea,” she finally said. “Logic says it’s one of his children. Not Polly, of course,” she quickly added, “but maybe Arnold. Or Denise. Though frankly, I can’t see either of them plotting to poison their father.”

  “Arnold’s strapped for cash,” Ron pointed out. “And he resented Danny.”

  “I don’t dispute that,” Lydia said. “But injecting medicine into his favorite candy? My gift, I might add.”

  “I’m sure the killer meant nothing personal,” Mick said kindly.

  “I don’t know about that,” Lydia said.

  “I think it’s safe to say the person who killed Daniel also tried to kill Evelyn,” Ron added.

  “I suppose,” Lydia agreed.

  “Another indication the assailant was after money he or she could only acquire when both Danny and Evelyn were dead.”

  “That makes sense,” Lydia said. “Unless it was meant to look that way.”

  “Go on,” Mick said. “We’re all ears.”

  “Well, for example. I hate to accuse anyone of killing Daniel without proof, but let’s say his friend Allen owed him money, a lot of money, which he couldn’t or didn’t want to pay back.”

  “But would he go after Evelyn, too?” Ron asked.

  “I don’t know,” Lydia mused. “If she were no longer in the picture, I’m not sure if the estate lawyers would check that carefully to see what money Daniel might have loaned someone.”

  “Maybe Evelyn knew about the loan,” Mick offered. “And if Allen killed his boss, then killing again might not be that difficult.”

  Lydia nodded. “That’s the crux of the matter, as I see it. Whoever murdered Daniel considers murder a viable means of getting what he wants.”

  “Let’s not forget Matt, Polly’s husband,” Mick said. “Polly collects millions more when Evelyn dies. He probably needs at least two million to set his finances back on course.”

  “Matt’s a family man,” Lydia demurred, the memory of Matt comforting a sobbing Polly at Daniel’s funeral vivid in her mind.

  “You can’t let your emotions cloud the facts,” Ron said.

  She nodded. “You’re right, but it’s depressing how you guys turn every friend and relative into a suspect.”

  Five minutes later they dropped her off at her car in the parking lot. Lydia picked up her doggie bag and bussed Mick and Ron. “Thanks for dinner, fellows.”

  “It was our pleasure,” Mick said. “We’ll keep on working and digging. Something has to turn up. Meanwhile, get Lieutenant Molina to check Allen out, if he hasn’t already.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Lydia agreed.

  She drove home, aware that the Mercedes kept two cars’ distance discretely behind her. Her elderly squires, she thought with affection. Mick and Ron had spent several hours gathering information about the possible suspects. She was dismayed by how many suspects there were! In every case, the motive was financial gain. Every suspect except Stefano had attended Daniel’s birthday party, and had the means and opportunity to switch the boxes of chocolates. During her next conversation with Sol, she’d introduce—as a question or a possibility—what Ron and Mick had told her, though she was certain he must have checked out everyone’s past and financial history already.

  Who was desperate enough to resort to murder? Lydia wondered as she turned onto Bellewood Road. She ran down the list of suspects, trying to decide whom she could question without appearing too obvious. She had an excuse to call Denise—and she would later that evening—and try to find out if she was using drugs again. Right now, Denise was probably smoothing Stefano’s feathers, helping him come up with ways to stop immigration from tossing him out of the country.

  There was Bennett, though, who worked nearby. Lydia drove to the Drug Market, a well-lit, well-stocked enterprise that sold everything from stationery to household cleaners, and included a pharmacy and a photo center. Several customers were shopping while others stood on line waiting to pay for their purchases at the cash registers. Lydia meandered up and down each aisle, hoping to spot Bennett. She found him in the hair color section, chatting with a beautiful girl with long blonde hair who held up a box of hair coloring in each hand. From afar, Lydia watched what was clearly a flirtatious conversation that included a good deal of laughter and rippling blonde hair as the girl continuously shook her head. Finally, Bennett pointed to one box. The girl set the other back on the shelf and headed for the registers at the front of the store.

  “Bennett!” Lydia called out, noting his furtive expression as he glanced about trying to determine who wanted him. When he caught sight of her, he broke out in a grin.

  “Ah, Mrs. Krause. Can I help you find something?”

  “I need some shampoo,” Lydia said.

  Bennett gestured with his chin. “The next aisle over. We’ve a wide selection.” He stepped away.

  “Your mother must be relieved,” Lydia threw out to catch his attention.

  It worked. “What do you mean?”

  “She came to see me today. She was very concerned because Stefano had been arrested. Someone identified his pickup truck as the one that nearly drove Evelyn and me off the road on Sunday. But it seems the police have released him.”

  Bennett frowned. “That’s too bad. Mom would be better off without that guy.” He stepped closer and Lydia smelled a strong aftershave mingled with something else, something musky and dark. “Did you know he tortured people back home?”

  Lydia shook her head as though she doubted his word. “Really? Stefano’s always been so nice and helpful to the Twin Lakes residents. Your grandfather was very fond of him.”

  Bennett’s look of condescension made her wan
t to kick him hard in the butt. “It’s all a performance.” He laughed derisively. “If you saw him with his Serbian pals, you’d know what Stefano’s all about. Besides,” he fixed his gaze on her, “what are you defending him for, after what he did to you?”

  Lydia shook her head. “I’m not defending him. If it was Stefano. I couldn’t see the driver through the tinted glass.”

  “What do you want—a neon sign?” Bennett’s face was contorted in fury. “A witness ID’d his truck at the scene. I’d put two and two together, if I were you.”

  Lydia froze. As sure as she knew her children’s birthdays, she was certain Bennett had taken Stefano’s pickup truck to frighten Evelyn and herself. Refusing to be intimidated, she stared into his eyes until his false outrage melted into a sardonic grin. Bennett was better at this than she was. Still, she had inner resources, and taking the offense was one of them.

  “I hear Stefano will probably be deported. You must be glad,” she said as calmly as she could manage, “since you don’t approve of him as your mother’s boy friend.”

  Bennett averted his gaze, but not before she noted a strange expression she couldn’t quite read. Was he apprehensive? Dissembling? A moment later he chose to laugh off her comment.

  “I sure as hell don’t. My mother deserves better. She’s never known how to pick her men, starting with my father.”

  There was nothing to be gained here. “I’m glad Denise has such a devoted son. Good-bye, Bennett.” Eager to get away, Lydia started down the aisle for the exit.

  “Mrs. Krause, you forgot your shampoo.”

  She shook her head—at her stupidity and Bennett’s derisive tone—and made a quick U-turn. “So I did, Bennett. So I did.”

  She spent the five-minute ride home berating herself for coming off as a snoop without gaining anything in return. That wasn’t quite accurate, Lydia surmised as she waited for Twin Lakes’ security gate to rise. Bennett’s comments and reactions told her he was disreputable through and through. But he wasn’t as good at playacting as he thought. He had something against Stefano a bit more personal than the man’s relationship with Denise, though Lydia was sure that entered into it as well.

  At home she fed Reggie, then made herself a cup of coffee. It was a balmy night—warm with a delightful breeze. Lydia wondered if Sol would call or, even better, stop by, though she had no intention of waiting at home for that possibility to occur. That’s why cell phones had been invented. Lydia grabbed hers, checked to make sure it was on, then draped a sweater around her shoulders and locked her door behind her.

  She decided to stroll around Lake Nissaquoge and work off her dinner. She waved to neighbors, walking or chatting with other residents, all enjoying the spring weather. One woman stopped Lydia to ask if she’d spoken to Evelyn, and if the police were making any headway finding Daniel’s assailant.

  Their conversation reminded Lydia to stop by Evelyn’s house to water her plants. When she got there, she was surprised to see a black Honda parked in the driveway. For a moment, she thought it might be Arnold breaking in again. But then she remembered—Stefano had a black Honda. He was probably fixing whatever Evelyn had asked him to do. She decided to leave him in peace. She’d water the plants in the morning.

  She stretched out on the den couch to watch a movie about to begin in five minutes. A sudden urge for ice cream sent her into the kitchen. She scooped a portion of chocolate ripple onto a plate. She turned out the kitchen light and, on impulse, peered through the blinds. Across the street, a young girl was getting out of a car. Lydia smiled as she remembered that Polly’s daughter, Gillian—the “bad twin”—sometimes used Evelyn’s house as a lovers’ nest. Lydia shrugged. The girl was over twenty-one. If Evelyn didn’t care, who was she to mind?

  But was that Gillian? Lydia looked to check as the girl, now walking arm-in-arm with a young man, passed under the streetlight before turning up the driveway. A long blonde ponytail spilled behind the baseball hat. Nicole! The Good Twin, whose behavior was upsetting Polly. And the young man was her boyfriend, Ringo. Presumably, Gillian had handed Evelyn’s key over to her sister.

  The young couple turned to glance at Stefano’s car in the driveway, but never paused as they approached the front door. Lydia watched as Gillian turned the doorknob, and she and her boyfriend disappeared inside.

  They were expected! Stefano expected them.

  She stifled her impulse to fly across the street and demand of the three intruders what the hell they were up to. For she had no illusions. They were up to no good. She reached for the telephone and dialed Sol’s number. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Sol, it’s me. Stefano Ligoris, or whatever his real name is, is in Evelyn’s house. And Polly’s daughter, Nicole, just went inside the house with her boyfriend, Ringo Something-or-other.”

  “Ringo Sheridan?”

  “I don’t know his last name. Do you know him?”

  Instead of answering, Sol cursed under his breath. “Lydia, stay put. I’m going over there.” He cut the connection before she could ask any of the several questions on the tip of her tongue.

  “What’s happening?” she muttered to herself as she shut off every light. Then, checking that no one was stirring in Evelyn’s house, she crossed the street to find out what the hell was going on.

  Chapter Eighteen

  There was little need for stealth or silence, Lydia observed a minute later through a crack between two vertical blinds. Nicole and her boyfriend were sprawled out on Evelyn’s living room sofa, wearing expressions of spaced-out ecstasy. Stefano lounged against a wall looking pleased with himself.

  Pieces of one puzzle, at least, fell into place. Ringo took drugs and had hooked Nicole into using them. Lydia’s memory flashed back to her shiva call, when the twins were bitterly fighting. Gillian, despite her outrageous vampire look, had more common sense than her twin. She must have been warning Nicole that her boyfriend was bad news, but Nicole wouldn’t listen. And Stefano? Lydia shivered. He was the dealer. He had probably gotten Denise using again. He took up with her, knowing she’d inherit a large sum of money when her father died. And even more when Evelyn was dead.

  Lydia stormed back into her own house, furious to think that only hours ago she’d defended Stefano to Bennett! That she’d listened sympathetically to Denise’s sob story about her poor, misunderstood lover.

  She watched from her kitchen window as Sol’s unmarked car stopped across the driveway, blocking Stefano’s exit. Two black and white police cars screeched to a halt behind him. Sol, another man, and six officers in uniform poured out of the cars and rapped on Evelyn’s front door. Good! Now Stefano and Ringo would be arrested and get what they deserved! Stefano must have been one of the dealers who’d used the old house before it had been torn down. Now he’d be deported for sure. She hoped Ringo would be thrown into jail for a long, long time—long enough for Nicole to get back on the straight and narrow. What was that girl looking for? Thrills and excitement?

  A few neighbors gathered in the street in time to see the police take Nicole, Stefano, and Ringo into custody. Poor Nicole seemed dazed by the whole incident. Lydia decided to call Polly and Matt to let them know Nicole was on her way to the police station.

  Gillian answered the phone and told Lydia that her parents weren’t home.

  When Lydia hesitated, Gillian asked, “What’s wrong? Is it Nicole?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is. How did you know?”

  “That idiot! She took the key to Grandpa’s place—the new one Evelyn gave me. I figured she was going there to get high with her dumb boyfriend.”

  “It’s worse than that. The police came and took them, along with Stefano Ligoris, down to the station.”

  “God! I’d better call Dad on his cell. Let him play lawyer and bring Nicole home. Oh, God! I hope Mom doesn’t have a breakdown over this! Now she’ll really buy into her dumb obsession that she’s the worst mother in the world.”

  “Why does she think that?�
�� Lydia asked.

  “Because I was always a rebel, but at least she had Nicole, the perfect child who led the perfect life. Then Nicole decided I was having all the fun so she’d do what I did, actually what she thought I was doing. Only Kyle and I don’t do drugs or half the things her warped Ringo gets her to do.”

  “I’m sorry, Gillian. I hope Nicole’s learned her lesson,” Lydia said, feeling twinges of guilt for having called the cops on Polly’s daughter.

  “Dad will make sure nothing happens to her,” Gillian said cynically. “Gotta go.”

  Hours later, Lydia had given up hope of hearing from Sol and was about to go to bed, when she heard a knock at the door. A disgusted Sol strode into the house.

  “We couldn’t hold them. Ligoris and the girl had keys to the house, so there went breaking and entering. And though the kids were as high as kites, we didn’t find any drugs on them. We tested them, though, and called the Ellenbergs. Matt came for Nicole. One of my men dropped off the other two. End of story.”

  “I’m sorry, Sol. Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thanks, but this will help.” He took her in his arms and held her close. “It’s damn frustrating knowing Ligoris and Sheridan are up to their necks in drugs, but we’ve yet to catch them with evidence.”

  Lydia sat down beside him on a living room sofa. “Are you saying this Ringo kid has a record?”

  “He does. His juvie record’s closed, but he’s well known to dealers when he has the money. He’s not gainfully employed.”

  “So either he steals or gets the money from Nicole,” Lydia mused.

  Sol cast her a look of admiration. “I’d say you’re two for two.”

  “I’d say Polly’s upset about her daughter for good reason.”

  “If she’s smart, she’ll make sure that guy’s never within ten feet of Nicole. And she’ll see to it her daughter enters a drug rehab ASAP.”

  Lydia shivered. “I’m glad that’s one worry my daughters never put me through.”

  Sol yawned and quickly covered his mouth. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s been a long day. Thank God it’s over.”