“Po knew about the hundred thousand. Cash.” Talk. Talk. She had to keep talking. Talk was her only defense. Her mouth felt so dry her lips threatened to stick to her teeth, but she forced more words. “Were you uneasy carrying so much cash? Where did you hide it over the weekend? It must have made some bundle! Did you sleep with it under your pillow?”
“You’re in no position to question me!”
“Did one suitcase hold it? Two suitcases? It must have been some sort of a payoff.”
“I’m going to shoot you.”
“You’d be foolish to kill me here. I’m unarmed. You couldn’t even plead self-defense. Insanity, maybe, but do you really want to do time in a mental ward? I’ve heard they’re not a lot of fun.”
“A person is allowed to defend himself and his property. You’re an intruder on my premises.” She raised the gun a fraction of an inch.
“You’ve a right to defend yourself, but not with undue force. Using a gun against an unarmed person will be considered undue force. Believe it. The police will. So will the jury of your peers.”
“Well I don’t believe it.”
“Kill me and you’ll do time. That’s a promise. May I please lower my hands?”
Wright cleared her throat and shook her head as if Katie’s words confused her. “Keep your hands where they are. You can’t get away with this.”
“And you can’t get away with Alexa Chitting’s murder.”
Wright gave a harsh laugh. “What put that idea into your head? Alexa and I were involved in an important business transaction, but I certainly didn’t kill her. Maybe you need to go back go detective school.”
She wished she had been able to activate her tape recorder. Wright had just admitted to a business deal with Alexa, but she could deny it later. “Please, may I lower my hands? Your gun will keep you in control.”
“All right, but one threatening move from you and I’ll pull the trigger. Count on it.”
Katie lowered her arms, feeling warmth return to her fingertips as the blood began circulating freely once more. In the strained quiet between them her mind began to clear, offering theories, possibilities. Talk. She had to keep Wright talking.
“The money was a bribe, wasn’t it, Ms. Wright? Alexa was bribing you.”
“Alexa was dying of cancer. The money was payment for a favor.”
“Then it did come from Alexa. I thought so.”
Wright’s lips clamped into a tight white line as she realized she had confirmed information that Katie had only been surmising. “Of course I’ll deny that if anyone questions me. It will be my word against yours.”
“I can guess the nature of the favor,” Katie said. “Suddenly you found the salt ponds totally inappropriate as a location for Cayo Hueso. Traffic would snarl. The population increase would have a negative impact on the environment. And what about the endangered alligators and egrets? Once you changed your position and vetoed using the salt ponds for the housing project, Alexa paid you the hundred thousand.”
“You’re wrong, of course.” Elizabeth chuckled. “Even if you lived to present your theory to the public, nobody would believe you. You seem to forget that in the last analysis, I was strongly in favor of the Cayo Hueso project being built in the salt pond area. The newspaper even carried that headline.”
“But of course you were in favor of it once Alexa was dead. The public isn’t totally dumb. People can figure out that you vetoed the salt pond area and accepted Alexa’s bribe. Then you killed her and did another about-face. As the old cliché goes, you wanted to eat your cake and have it, too. And you almost succeeded.”
“You’re making no sense at all.”
“By killing Alexa, you were then free to go ahead with Cayo Hueso at the salt pond location.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Only Alexa could have proved that you accepted a bribe. And she was dead. You hid the money carefully, depositing it in amounts that wouldn’t draw undue attention from bank officials or the IRS. You were set, weren’t you? You had a fortune, and you knew that the successful completion of the Cayo Hueso development would earn you a much-coveted career advancement. You thought you had it all, didn’t you?”
“Nobody will believe a tale like that. Not for a minute.”
Katie kept talking. “Of course people will believe me. They can see that you’d not only have a nice cushion of Alexa’s money plus the interest it had drawn, but you’d also have the Cayo Hueso project to your credit and a substantial raise in salary.”
“You’re not going to lay Alexa Chitting’s murder at my doorstep!” Her tone grew low and menacing. “I didn’t kill her and I won’t let you botch my career by dragging my name through a lot of rotten publicity for the sake of your big detective ego. You’re a dead woman.”
“Think, Wright, think. You shoot me here and you’ll have to hide my body. That won’t be easy. Have you thought through that problem?”
“Hide your body! Are you crazy? I’ll shoot you and call the police immediately. It’s that simple. Self-defense. No jury would blame me.”
“An unarmed person attacking a person with a gun? Who’d buy that story?”
“Pick up a bookend from my desk.”
Katie hesitated, eyeing the heavy brass sharks that supported several books.
“Pick one of them up. Grab it firmly. Get your fingerprints all over it.”
Katie picked up the bookend, hearing the soft thud of the books as they fell against the desk blotter. She tasted a bitterness on the back of her tongue. The taste of death?
“Now you have a weapon. I’ll tell the police that you came at me with the bookend and I had to defend myself. When they see that shark, they’ll believe me. A blow from it could be lethal.”
“A gun against a bookend? The prosecuting attorney will call it undue force.”
“So I panicked. Most policemen are chauvinists. Their upbringing has programmed them to expect women to panic. I’ll be believed.”
Katie knew those words were probably true. Now what? She had to act fast. In picking up the bookend, she had stepped closer to her foe. On impulse she gave Wright’s wrist a sharp chop with the side of her hand which sent the gun flying across the carpet.
“You…” Wright gasped.
They both lunged for the gun. Wright’s hand closed over it, but Katie slammed the bookend against her fingers, making her shriek and draw back. Before Katie could drop the bookend and grab the gun, Wright clutched it again. And it went off.
The bullet grazed Katie’s arm as it tore through a shade and the windowpane. Clutching her arm, she froze, momentarily stunned as she felt warm blood on her fingers. Wright stood dazed by the sound, and Katie seized the chance to act. Ignoring the searing heat that flooded her left arm, she gave Wright’s wrist another chop. This time Katie caught the gun as it fell.
“Hands on your head.” Her voice came in short gasps and she aimed the gun at Wright as she raised her hands.
“You won’t get away with this, Hassworth.”
Katie eased to the desk, removed the telephone receiver with her left hand in spite of the pain and the blood running down her arm. With the receiver lying on the desk, she tried to call the police without looking away from her captive. Blood dripped on the desk blotter and her arm throbbed through a white searing numbness.
“Police department, Sgt. Babcock speaking.”
The voice seemed to come from a great distance. Picking up the receiver with her numbed left hand, Katie had just started to speak when Wright kicked the gun from her hand, then raced for the door.
“Stop!” Retrieving the gun, Katie fired into the air, but Wright continued to run, heading for Duval Street and its many hole-in-the-wall shops.
Katie lowered the gun and gave her message to the police.
“Katie Hassworth speaking from the Simonton Street Office of Community Affairs. There’s been a shooting.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
By the time the police arr
ived, Katie had managed to grab paper towels to stay the flow of blood, and fighting a nauseating dizziness, she walked to the door to greet the officers.
“I believe we’ve met before, Miss Hassworth. I’m Sgt. Babcock and this is my partner, Sgt. La Rosa. Are you all right?” He tossed his brown cigarette onto the doorstep and ground it out with his toe before he entered the office.
She looked up at Babcock as she nodded her acknowledgment of the greeting, then her eyes met those of the paunchy Cuban officer on a level. “I’m all right. The bullet just grazed my arm.”
“Who shot you?” Babcock’s eyes looked like flint as he studied the bloodstains on the desk blotter, the telephone, the gun.
“Elizabeth Wright shot me and she’s escaping.” She nodded toward Duval Street. “She headed that way, and she’s wearing gray sweats and jogging shoes, but she may have a car around here somewhere.”
“We’ll drive you to the emergency room,” Babcock said.
“I’m fine!” She heard herself shouting. “Get Elizabeth Wright. I think she murdered Alexa Chitting.”
Sgt. Babcock raised his eyebrows. Sgt. La Rosa patted his paunch and asked, “Why do you think that, Ma’am?”
La Rosa’s patronizing tone infuriated her, but she forced herself to be calm as she blurted her story about seeing the bankbooks, about Wright holding her at gunpoint, about accusing Wright of accepting a bribe. She avoided mentioning the fact that she had picked the lock to gain entry to the office. Plenty of time for Wright to report that after her capture.
“Where are the bankbooks now?” Sgt. Babcock asked.
“In her shoulder bag. Go after her!”
“Ninety-nine thousand big ones!” Sgt. La Rosa said. “Holey moley.”
“Almost the exact amount that Po Chitting told me Alexa had withdrawn from her account the Friday before she died.” She spoke in a rush, hoping to make the men realize the need for action. “Elizabeth took Alexa’s bribe, nixed the salt pond area for the Cayo Hueso project, murdered Alexa, then supported the salt pond location again once Alexa wasn’t around to protest.”
“Miss Wright admitted that the money came from Alexa Chitting?” Babcock lit another brown cigarette.
“Yes. She said they had a business deal. I guessed the kind of deal.”
“But there are holes in your theory, Miss Hassworth.” Babcock’s voice took on an avuncular and patronizing tone as he said her name. “Perhaps you’re right about the bribe. We’ll check into that once we talk with Miss Wright. But you have no proof that she murdered Mrs. Chitting.”
“It figures.” She winced as her arm throbbed.
“In your mind, it may figure.” Babcock shook his head. “But figuring won’t stand up in court. It’s more formally known as conjecture. You’re back to square one. Anyone could have wasted Alexa Chitting. Perhaps Miss Wright took a bribe. And she may have used the coincidental murder to her advantage. We’ll consider that theory when we talk with her.”
“You’ll never get to talk with her if you don’t apprehend her.” Frustration left Katie weak. Or maybe it was the loss of blood. “Elizabeth Wright shot me. Aren’t you going to do something about that?” She loosened that paper towel she had been holding against her wound and blood flowed again.
“Why did she shoot you?” Babcock asked.
“Because I accused her of murder.”
“Not very bright of you,” La Rosa said. “Didn’t you know she had a gun?”
“I knew it.” She told them of the struggle over the gun. “Both our prints are on the gun. And on the bookend. I suppose you’ll try to prove that I grabbed her gun and shot myself.”
“I suppose that could be a possibility,” Babcock said, “now that you mention it. We’ll consider that theory after we take you to the hospital.”
“I’m fine! Catch Elizabeth Wright, then worry about me and the hospital. She could be escaping right this minute.”
“Escaping to where?” La Rosa asked. “You forget that we’re on an island that’s just one of a long chain of islands. There are a limited amount of places where a fugitive can hide.”
“She could board a plane or a boat. She might even…”
“La Rosa,” Babcock said. “Get on the radio. Order our men to stop Elizabeth Wright for questioning.”
La Rosa patted his paunch thoughtfully before he left the office and strolled toward the patrol car parked at the curb. Katie knew he was trying to infuriate her with his slowness. He succeeded.
“Collect your things,” Sgt. Babcock said. “We’re going to the emergency room. Where’s your car?”
“It’s at my office, and I have no things to collect.”
“Then let’s go.”
Although Sgt. Babcock sounded the siren to clear traffic, few cars pulled over. In some cases radios blared hard rock that drowned out the siren’s wail. In other instances, there was no place to pull over. She felt a greater danger in the speeding patrol car than she had felt as Elizabeth Wright’s captive.
Once they entered the hospital, she grew faint. Memories of another shooting, another wound, replayed through her mind. Green walls. Tan floors. The swish of white uniforms. Did all hospitals look and sound alike? The medicinal smell brought an acrid taste to her mouth.
Sgt. Babcock spoke to the nurse at the emergency room desk and she beeped a doctor, then led Katie to an examining room that majored in fluorescent lights, white porcelain, and stainless steel.
After a lengthy wait, a portly doctor arrived, stethoscope dangling around his neck, white coat unbuttoned to reveal a red tank top bearing the logo, Conch Republic. He looked like the type who might have seceded from the union years ago.
“It’s a superficial wound.” The doctor probed, cleansed, applied medicine. “Won’t even need stitches.” A nurse offered a tray of bandages, and he selected the ones he needed, applying them to the cleaned wound. “You’ll be as good as new in a few days.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” As she stood to leave, the room did a slow spiral and she felt herself falling into a vortex of darkness. When she opened her eyes again, it took her a few moments to figure out that she was in a hospital bed and a hospital gown. It took her another moment to realize that it was now growing dark outside and that a uniformed officer sat patting his paunchy stomach just outside her door. Her arm ached.
“La Rosa?” she called.
Sgt. La Rosa stood and approached her bed. “Ah, so you’re awake. I’ll call the nurse.”
The nurse appeared before La Rosa could call. “You’re feeling better, Miss Hassworth?”
“I’m fine.” She pushed herself up in bed, looking about for her clothes as she tried to swing her legs over the side of the mattress. “I’m going home now.”
“I’m afraid you can’t leave until morning,” the nurse said. “Doctor’s orders. You’ve lost quite a bit of blood and he wants to monitor your vital signs for several hours before dismissing you. I’ll bring you some juice.”
“What are you doing here?” Katie asked La Rosa as the nurse padded away on her ripple-soled shoes.
“I’m here to guard you.”
“I don’t want a guard.”
“I’ve got my orders.”
“I don’t want a guard. Get out!”
“Your life was endangered. You’ll be under guard until your assailant is apprehended.”
“Elizabeth Wright. She’s still on the run? What are you guys doing—standing on your shoestrings?”
“These things sometimes take time. We’ll get her. We’ve set up a roadblock at the Boca Chica Bridge.”
“She did the shooting, but I’m the one who’s a prisoner. Unfair.” She eased from the bed, found her disguise in the closet along with a hospital robe, which she slipped on. When the nurse returned, Katie confronted her.
“I want to go home. Now.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. I’ve told you. Doctor’s orders. I’ve no authority to dismiss you.”
“May I make a te
lephone call? Prisoners are allowed one call.”
“You’re not a prisoner, Miss Hassworth.” The nurse’s voice grew testy and even more patronizing. “There’s a telephone by your bed. You may make as many calls as you care to. You may be up and about, if you feel able.” She set the glass of juice on the bedside table and swished from the room.
Katie glared after her, then turned the glare on La Rosa. “I’d like to make my call in private, please.”
“Excuse me, Ma’am.” He retreated to his chair outside her door, but she knew he would eavesdrop. She would have done the same thing had their positions been reversed.
She punched out Diane’s number. No response. Then she tried Rex, suddenly remembering their dinner date. He answered on the second ring.
“Katie! Where are you? When you weren’t at home when I got there, I drove by your office. And there was your car, but no Katie. I’ve been calling your office and your apartment every five minutes. I was about to go to the police.”
She blinked back a rush of tears as she realized how much his concern touched her. “Oh, Rex. I’m sorry I’ve put you through a bad time.”
“You’ve been in danger ever since you took the Chitting case and it drives me wild. Are you okay? What’s been going on? Where are you?”
She related her whereabouts, her story of the shooting, her theories concerning Elizabeth Wright.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
She heard concern strain his voice. “I’m fine. I’m just furious that they’re keeping me here all night—and under guard at that.”
“The guard’s for your protection.”
“So they say. I have no clear picture of Elizabeth Wright sneaking in to shoot me in my bed. My guess is that she’s well on her way to Miami—or somewhere. I want out of here.”
“I’ll be right there,” Rex said. “Maybe they’ll let you go for a walk if you feel up to it. I’ll bring you a sweater.”
“It’s colder?”
“This front is really letting us have it. Maybe you’d prefer staying inside—even if it’s inside a hospital.”
“Thanks, Rex. I’d love to see you. Maybe you can reason with Lady Godzilla and spring me from this place.”
Conch Shell Murder Page 19