“Do people live out there?”
“Sure they do,” Tammy said. “There are some beautiful homes there, a couple of luxury hotels, a nice little town with shops and—”
“A lighthouse!” Suddenly Abigail shot up off her towel, pointing toward the end of the island. “I saw a flash of light! I’m pretty sure it was a lighthouse beam!”
Savannah chuckled, pleased to see Abigail animated over something. Anything at all. “It is a lighthouse,” she told her. “It’s been there forever, even before people settled the island. There are some treacherous rocks out there, and the light’s there to warn ships away.”
“I love lighthouses,” Abigail said dreamily. “I mean I really, really love them. In fact, I was talking about lighthouses today with Jeremy.”
“You and Jeremy were discussing lighthouses?” Tammy asked. “How did that come up in casual conversation?”
“He was asking me what I like. What really inspires me on a deep level.”
“And you told him lighthouses?” Savannah said, marveling at this new insight into what made Abigail tick.
“Yes, I do love them. The whole idea of them. There’s a purity about them. They were built strictly to help people, to save human life. And throughout the ages, lighthouse keepers lived solitary, lonely lives in those barren, inhospitable places, just waiting for the chance to go down and rescue people who had run into trouble on the rocks. And no matter what, the lighthouse keepers and their families kept those lights lit, even when they were sick or dying themselves, they wouldn’t let the lights go out, because they considered it their solemn, sacred duty. It’s a beautiful thing, really, when you think about it.”
Savannah looked across the water and saw the tiny white blink of light, then a pause and two more. “I guess I never thought about it that way,” she said. “But I can see why it’s one of your passions. Why did Jeremy ask about things like that?”
“Because he’s helping me get in touch with who I really am. It’s the first step in creating a style that’s uniquely mine alone. How can I express myself if I don’t know who I am?”
“What other sorts of things do you like?” Tammy asked. Abigail gave her a quick, guarded look and crossed her arms over her chest. “Just... stuff.”
Tammy handed her a glass of iced tea. “What kind of stuff?”
“Private stuff. I’m not going to tell you.”
“Ah, come on. It’s just me and Savannah, and we won’t tell anybody.”
Abigail thought for a moment, then said, “Belly dancing. I like belly dancing, okay? Happy now? The fat chick likes belly dancing. And you might as well go ahead and say it, ‘I’ve certainly got enough of it... belly, that is.’”
“I wasn’t going to say anything like that,” Tammy objected. “I would never—”
“No, but you thought it. What’s somebody who looks like me doing even thinking about something like that? Nobody would want to see my body doing any kind of dance, let alone something sexy and graceful like that.”
“Here, Abby,” Savannah said softly. “Here’s your sandwich. Take a bite and tell me what you think.”
As she handed the plate to her, Savannah thought of the beautiful, sensual woman swaying in her living room the other night. But the anger in Abigail’s eyes warned her not to say anything. Abigail had been dancing for herself alone, not for anyone else to see. And Savannah suspected it was one of the woman’s sacred secrets.
Abigail bit into the sandwich. Her face lit up. “Not bad,” she said.
“You think that’s good... slap a little of this coleslaw on there and you’ll be in pure tastebud heaven.”
The threesome sat down on the blanket and began their meal. For awhile, no one spoke as they took the edge off their hunger.
Finally, Tammy broke the companionable silence. “So, you like that Jeremy guy, huh? He is really cute and seemed nice.”
“He’s more than cute or nice,” Abigail replied. “He’s a genius. Those places of theirs, the Mystic Twilight Spa and Emerge... those were his ideas. He thought up the whole concept, designed the facilities. He even decorated Suzette’s house and Sergio’s condo. He’s brilliant, the brains behind the whole operation. And they never gave him credit for it, not at all. And they ripped him off in the money department, too. He’s probably going to start his own place, as soon as he finds the backers and another surgeon, of course.”
Savannah tried not to sound too interested when she said, “Oh? Did he tell you all that himself?”
“Most of it, and the rest I read between the lines. He’s gotten a bum deal from those people. But with Suzette missing and Sergio dead, maybe it’ll work out to his advantage in the end.”
As Savannah continued her dinner, she thought about the beautiful, brilliant young man who had gotten the short end of a stick, or at least, thought he had. Just how bitter was he?
She thought of Devon Wright, who, for all her salesman-style cunning, didn’t seem to be all that sharp. And the person who had made Suzette Du Bois disappear and had killed Sergio D’Alessandro with nothing more than a tiny pin-prick of a mark on his body... it wasn’t likely to be a dimwit.
It had to be someone who was relatively bright, not to mention resourceful.
And when it came to murder... “bitter” could be a potent ingredient, too.
Maybe it was time to look elsewhere.
And even though Savannah had instantly taken a liking to Jeremy Lawrence and had heard only good things about the talented young man, perhaps it was time to look in his direction.
Chapter
12
Later that evening, Dirk dropped by Savannah’s house with a small satchel under his arm. Savannah ushered him inside and offered him a seat and a cold beer.
“Nope, I’m sorta still working,” he said as he collapsed wearily onto the sofa. He glanced into the kitchen where Tammy and Abigail were sitting at the table, playing a game of cards.
“Yeah, me, too.” Savannah nodded toward a piece of foam core board she had propped next to her easy chair. On the board was stuck a series of sticky post-it notes, some with names written on them, some with dates.
“Messing with that board of yours, huh?” he said. “Got anything?”
Savannah sat in her chair, picked up the board and looked at it. “No. I’ve been shuffling these people, places, and things all around, trying to make sense of this case. And so far, I’ve got a whole lot of nothing.”
“I hear you.” He leaned closer, peering at the board. “I see you’ve got that ditzo Devon gal at the top of your suspect list.”
“At the moment, but I think she’s about to get demoted.”
“I never did take her that seriously as a suspect. Too much of a fluff-head,” he said. “The only reason you really considered her was because you didn’t like her personally.”
“What gave you the idea I didn’t like her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s just the sort of gal that women don’t like, so I figured you didn’t.”
“And guys? Do they like a woman like Devon Wright?”
A lecherous little grin appeared on his face. “Only for about ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Ten or fifteen, huh? Mmmm... a real Casanova.”
“Hey, there’s something to be said for efficiency.” He glanced back down at the board. “So, who takes her place when she gets demoted?”
Savannah looked into the kitchen, but Tammy and Abby were deep in conversation over their cards. “I’m thinking Jeremy, the stylist,” she whispered.
“Oh really? Any special reason?”
“Just that Abby said he sort of made Du Bois and D’Alessandro what they were and didn’t get enough credit—or money— along the way. Apparently, he’s looking for investors and a surgeon right now to open his own place.”
“Okay, that’s good. I’ll run a check on him and—”
“Tammy already did. Online.”
He gave a little sniff. “Boy, she’s qu
ite the whiz kid these days. You don’t even need cops around anymore, as long as you’ve got a computer and know how to use it. Which reminds me...”
He reached down and picked up the black satchel, which he had placed on the floor. “I have a favor to ask.” As he unzipped the case and reached inside, he nodded toward the kitchen and whispered, “Doesn’t the kid there have her own apartment anymore? Seems like ever since that grumpy cousin of hers came to town, she’s been practically living here with you.”
“I think she’s afraid to be alone with her,” Savannah replied softly. “Strength in numbers and all that. What’s that you’ve got there?”
“Sergio D’Alessandro’s computer. They say that a personal computer is a treasure trove of forensic goodies, but... well... I couldn’t even find the on/off button on this thing, so...”
“And you brought it to me?” Savannah shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding. You could write what I know about computers on a peach pit.”
“Well, actually, I wasn’t going to ask you. I was gonna ask the kid if she’d do it for me.”
“And considering all the sweet, uplifting, soul-affirming compliments you’ve given her lately, I’m just sure she’d be thrilled to do you a favor... to spend hours of tedious labor, pouring through the maze of a dead man’s computer... all for the love of you.”
“She’ll do it,” Dirk said as he hauled the thin, lightweight notebook computer out of the case and laid it gently on her coffee table. And she’ll do it, not because I asked her to or because she loves me so much.” He smiled confidently. “She’ll do it because she’s just like you.”
“Meaning?”
“She’s nosy.”
“Sure. I’d be happy to,” Tammy said as Dirk handed her the computer. “Especially for real money. But if it’s full of porn, which most guys’ computers are, I’m charging you extra. And the grosser the pictures, the more it’s going to cost you. I’m not looking at close up pictures of body parts that I’m not aroused by for minimum wage, you know.”
“Hey, I’m not responsible for what some other guy looks at. The captain said I could pay you a hundred bucks. That’s it; that’s all. Take it or leave it.”
Tammy hugged the computer to her chest. “Heck,” she said, “I would have done it for free, but since you’ve got an expense account, fork over the cash up front, big boy. I’ve got clothes to buy, shoes to purchase.”
He stuck two twenties and a ten into her outstretched hand. “Make me proud,” he said. “And I’ll give you the rest the next time I see you. The captain’s a tightwad, and he’s gonna want to know what he got for his money.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “And we know how much he loves you, Dirko. Wouldn’t want to sully that sparkling reputation of yours.” Savannah snickered. While she adored Dirk and considered him easily the best detective she’d ever known, the rest of the San Carmelita Police Department didn’t hold him quite so dear. Good detective or not, most of them—including his superiors— considered him little more than a major bum pain.
“That’s right,” he said. “My reputation is riding on this, so do a good job and find something.”
“I’ll do my best,” Tammy said as she sat on the end of the sofa, opened the computer, and clicked it on.
“And one more thing,” Dirk added.
“What’s that?”
“If you could get it done right away, that would be great.” Tammy sighed. “I see you and Savannah are working on the same timetable. Yesterday is good, last week even better.”
“You got it. And thanks, kiddo.”
“No sweat, Dirko.”
He turned to Savannah. “What are you doing with the rest of the evening?”
She shrugged. “Looking at my board here. Going to bed a little early. Getting some sleep for a change.”
“Boring,” he said.
“You got a better idea?”
“I’m just full of ideas.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
He patted his jacket pocket. “Guess what I’ve got here.”
“Hm-m-m-m... let me guess. Tickets to the opera? An invitation to a black tie ball?”
“Search warrant for Sergio D’Alessandro’s condo on the water.” She grinned. “Who needs to sleep? I can snooze any time. Let’s go snoop.”
“Yuck.”
“Wow!”
Savannah turned to Dirk, a horrified look on her face. “You actually like this?”
“Like it? I love it. I’d move in here tomorrow if I could!”
She shook her head. “I never thought I’d hear the word ‘love’ in a sentence coming out of you in connection with home décor.”
“But this place is great! Just look around you.”
Savannah was looking around, and what she was seeing left her cold. Colder than cold.
Sergio D’Alessandro’s waterfront condo was ultramodern and white. Glossy white walls, white-washed wooden floors, white leather furniture.
Except for the bright red leather sofa and one oversized black lacquered vase filled with some sort of tree branches... sprayed white. Even the baby grand piano in the corner of the living room was white.
Savannah felt like Thanksgiving leftovers, hanging out in a giant refrigerator.
“How could anybody possibly like this?” she said. “It’s stark, sterile, soulless—”
“Clean,” he said. “It’s clean. Sophisticated, clean lines.”
She sniffed. “Oh, give me a break. Clean, my butt. There’s just less to dust here. No knick-knacks. That’s why you like it.”
“Hey, it’s a bummer having to dust all that house decorating crap. This is way better. One swipe with a dirty tee-shirt, you’re done.”
“Oh, yeah, you just about kill yourself dusting all those Clint Eastwood video tapes, empty beer bottles, and piles of laundry. You slave over that trailer of yours, boy... sla-a-ave!”
“Shut up. I can like this if I want to.”
She softened and gave him a smile. “Yes, of course you can. Bloomers, boxers, briefs... different britches for different hineys, right?”
“Something like that.”
Savannah walked into the kitchen and found the same lack of ornamentation there. The marble-topped counters had absolutely nothing on them: not a toaster, blender, not even a coffeepot.
“Hey, check it out in here,” Dirk called to her from another room.
She found him in the bedroom, which was similar to the living room in color scheme, although she had to admit, the one red wall and the other black one was interesting. So was the bed, which was spread with a coverlet—red, white, and black-checked.
Interesting. But she still wouldn’t have wanted to sleep on it.
She could, however, see right away what had Dirk so excited.
Boxes. Cardboard boxes, sealed with packing tape and labeled with a black marker: bedroom, bath, living room, or kitchen.
Dirk had an excited grin on his face. “The guy was moving! He was packing up and moving! That tells us a lot!”
Savannah thought, fast and furiously. She didn’t want to be outdone here. The truth had to be obvious. But...
“What?” she finally asked. “What does it tell us?”
His smile faded. “Hell, I don’t know. But it’s gotta tell us something.
“Yeah, well... when you figure out what, you let me know.”
“Me? Why do you think I brought you along, woman?”
“To do your thinking for you?”
“Exactly.”
It wasn’t until four-thirty in the morning that it came to her. And Savannah figured that if she had been lying there awake for hours, Dirk probably had been, too. And if he wasn’t awake, he should be. After all, he was the one who’d started the whole thing.
She sat up in bed, moved Cleopatra off her right arm, and reached for the phone.
He was number one on her speed dial.
“What?” he answered, far grumpier than usual.
Oo
ps. “You asleep?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course I was.” Then he uttered a couple of expletives that definitely would have gotten him a hide tanning from Granny Reid.
“Now, now,” she said. “Is that any way to talk to a lady?”
“One who wakes me up in the middle of the first night’s sleep I’ve had in a week? Yes.”
She felt a stab of guilt. Actually, it was more like a prick. A very small prick.
“I know why he was packed. At least, I think I do.”
“Oh yeah?” He perked up considerably. “Why?”
“I think he was going to join Suzette. I think she’s somewhere waiting for him.”
He was silent for a long time, mulling it over. Then he said, “Even if she was ready to kill him and his squeeze doll at Rosarita’s the other day?”
It was her time to mull.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she replied.
“And if he was getting ready to go join her, why did he hire you to find her?”
“Um... maybe not then.”
“Van,” he said with a tired sigh. “Do me a favor, babe.”
“What?”
“Promise me something. The next time you get one of these bright ideas in the middle of the night and think I want to hear about it, remember: it’s probably a stupid idea and I don’t give a rat’s ass. Don’t call me. Just roll over and go back to sleep.”
“Okay.”
He hung up. Dirk had always been a man of few words... and most of them curt.
She replaced the phone on its base, turned out the light, and reached for the recently displaced Cleopatra. Diamante moved up from her feet and nuzzled under her other hand, demanding her half of the petting.
“What do you girls think? Was Sergio getting ready to fly the coop and go join Suzette?”
Cleo purred.
“Yeah, I think so, too. But why would he hire me to find her, if he’d already made plans to skip town with her?”
Diamante had nothing to add to the conversation.
“Maybe Dirk’s right. Maybe these middle-of-the-night revelations aren’t all that reliable. But Granny Reid says we’re more intuitive in the moonlight than when the sun’s shining.”
Corpse Suzette Page 14