Blue Goodness (Michael Kaplan Mysteries)

by David W. Cowles

  Kimberly was more than pleased Michael had relegated Soozie’s messages to the back burner. “Let’s go now. I wasn’t very hungry earlier, but my appetite has suddenly perked up.”

  “WHY DIDN’T YOU RETURN MY CALLS, Michael?” Soozie sounded diffident, Michael observed. There was no trace of her usual aggressiveness.

  “I just came back to the office a short while ago and I’ve been busy working against today’s deadline. Can this wait until later?”

  “I won’t take but a moment of your time, Michael. Who was the woman who fielded my phone calls?”

  “That was Kimberly Cohen. My assistant. She wasn’t fielding the calls. As I just told you, I wasn’t here.” Kimberly’s ears perked up at the mention of her name.

  “I thought it might be your wife. The two women sound remarkably similar. I remember your wife’s voice from our conversation in the restaurant at Gold Crest. She wasn’t very nice to me, Michael.”

  “Well, perhaps she had her reasons.”

  “Perhaps she did,” Soozie giggled. “Where were you all day? I’ve been on pins and needles waiting for you to call me.”

  “I saw Oscar Stein, and then the man who owns the pet cemetery. You can read what I learned in today’s Times, if I can get off this damn phone and back to the computer.”

  Soozie ignored Michael’s attempt to cut the call short. “What did Oscar have to say?” she questioned hesitantly, as if she were nervous about something.

  “Not much. He tried to keep an impassive front, but I could see he was badly shaken up by my knowledge. He neither denied nor admitted the conversation with Hogg took place, but, then, it wasn’t necessary for him to posture because I’d already told him I had the tape. I think he’d murder me to get his hands on the tape before I turn it over to the police, though.”

  “That’s a strong possibility. I warned you Stein is a powerful man. He can do a Jimmy Hoffa on you and you’ll never be found. It’s happened to his enemies before, you know, but nobody could ever prove Stein was involved—and most people in this town are in such awe of him, perhaps even dread, that they wouldn’t even suggest such a thing out loud. Be very careful, Michael.”

  “I will. Is that all, Soozie?”

  “No. I want to know what your wife said when you told her you wanted a divorce.”

  Michael was dumbstruck. “How did you know I was going to tell her that? I didn’t know I was going to say it myself, until I spoke with her this morning.”

  “Don’t you remember, Michael? Last night you told me you love me and want to marry me and you couldn’t wait to tell your wife you wanted a divorce.”

  What Soozie said shocked Michael. Yet, as she spoke, he seemed to remember saying the words to her. But he didn’t understand why he’d said them. He certainly wasn’t drunk last night. He hadn’t even had a glass of wine with dinner.

  “Soozie, we need to talk.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing now, Michael?”

  Michael lowered his voice. He did not want Kimberly to hear. “No. I mean, we have to talk in person.”

  Michael sounds so sexy when he whispers, Soozie thought. “Let’s do dinner again,” she suggested.

  “No, that won’t work. I already have dinner plans for tonight. A business meeting. We’ll have to get together afterwards.”

  “I’ll be home. Come on over whenever you can break away.”

  “No, that won’t do. I’m being followed. Myra’s evidently hired a private detective. I’ll call you as soon as I can, and we’ll meet somewhere convenient. Not at your apartment, though. That wouldn’t be safe.”

  “Whatever you say, Michael. How about Paris for breakfast? My treat. Plane fare and all. Is your passport in order?”

  Michael ignored the suggestion, considering it frivolous. He would have been surprised to learn that Soozie was as serious as a heart attack.

  “I have to go now. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “I’m looking forward to being with you, Michael. And because you told Myra you want a divorce, tonight you’re going to get everything I promised you. And more.”

  Twenty-Eight

  KIMBERLY EMERGED from the bathroom wearing a maroon silk kimono. “The bathroom’s all yours now, Michael,” she announced brightly. Then, as he started to brush past her, she took hold of his arm and pulled him close. “I’m sorry for the way I acted this morning. Please forgive me. You were right. I’ve no cause to be jealous.”

  Michael held her in his arms and pressed his lips to her cheek. “You’re forgiven. But now, it’s my turn to apologize. I guess I was pretty callous this morning, and not very understanding. I’m aware of how you feel about me. I care for you, too. A lot. And not just like a sister. But it has to stop there. We can’t do anything about the way we feel, but we can control our behavior. If I weren’t married, things between us might be very different. In fact, I know they would.”

  She sat on the edge of her bed. “You told Myra you want a divorce. You might be a free man in six weeks. That’s no time at all, Michael. I’ll wait for you until the divorce goes through.”

  Michael turned his head away. “I hope there won’t be a divorce. I don’t know why I told Myra I wanted one. Maybe I subconsciously wanted to shock her, to bring things to a head. I can’t continue living in limbo.”

  “What did she say?” Kimberly asked indifferently, but she had been dying all day to know.

  Michael’s shoulders raised, then slumped. “Nothing, really. She was surprised, I think. I told her we’d talk more about it later. Today’s been so hectic, I haven’t had the time to phone her again.”

  “Maybe you should call Myra when we get back from our dinner with Bill Dover,” Kimberly suggested. “I’ll go out, if you like, so you’ll have all the privacy you need.”

  Michael thought for a minute before replying. “I can’t. I have to see Soozie tonight as soon as we finish dinner.”

  Fire flashed in Kimberly’s eyes. She took several deep breaths before speaking. She did not want to reveal the intensity of her anger. “Soozie? Again?” She counted to ten. “I hope you won’t be out too late, Michael. There’s a good movie coming on cable at eleven—but, it’s really scary. I’d like you to be here to watch it with me.” She waited a minute for Michael to respond, but when he said nothing, she continued. “Does Soozie have more information about the Gunther Hogg matter?”

  Michael stepped into the bathroom and prepared to get in the shower, but left the door ajar so they could continue their conversation. “No. For some crazy reason, Soozie seems to think I’ve fallen for her. I have to straighten her out.”

  Kimberly chewed the inside of her cheek. “Is it really necessary for you to see Soozie face to face, Michael? Can’t you just kiss her off over the telephone?”

  “There’s a little more to it than that. I guess I feel guilty because I misjudged Soozie at first. She’s a nice person—but troubled— and I want to let her down easy. I can’t help it, it’s just how I am. I don’t like to hurt people’s feelings.”

  “If that’s the way you feel, then that’s what you should do,” Kimberly said grudgingly, remembering Soozie seduced Michael the same day they met. She absolutely despised the idea of Michael spending any more time alone with the woman. It was just one more chance for her to get him in her clutches. But if Michael meant what he just said, after tonight her only competition would be Myra, and Michael had already asked her for a divorce.

  Kimberly and Michael were dressed and waiting when Bill Dover arrived. He announced his presence by pounding heavily on the front door, even though the doorbell button was but inches away. Dover was a large, jovial man, about Michael’s age, but several inches taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier. Bill’s round countenance reminded Kimberly of a happy-face cartoon.

  As they got into Bill’s metallic silver Chevrolet, with Michael on the front passenger seat and Kimberly in the rear, Michael noticed the blue Honda Accord parked several doors down the street. The person
sitting behind the wheel, a scruffy looking man in his fifties, stared at them as they drove past.

  Michael jotted down the license number of the vehicle. He had not told Kimberly that Myra was having him followed. He didn’t want to alarm her until he was absolutely sure. Now that he’d seen the blue car again, he was positive. He could not say anything to Kimberly now; he didn’t want to mention his marital troubles in front of Bill Dover.

  “I understand you’ve located the Lost Doberman Mine,” Michael said to Bill.

  “That’s right.” There was a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Where are we going first?” Michael asked. “To dinner, or to see the mine?”

  “To dinner, naturally. I like to be paid in advance for my services.”

  “Will it take us long to get there after we have dinner?” Kimberly questioned.

  “Nope.” Bill’s smile had turned into a mischievous grin. “You’ll be home early.”

  Michael knew Bill was determined to keep them in suspense, so he decided to change the subject. “Where are we going for dinner? I hope they take credit cards. I don’t have a lot of cash on me tonight.”

  “No problem,” Bill chuckled. “We’re going to the Windsor Palace Hotel. The Anasazi Cafe, to be specific. I love that restaurant. It has everything.”

  “Not everything,” Michael contradicted.

  Bill turned to look at Michael, puzzled. His inattention to the road nearly caused him to rear-end the car in front. “What do you mean?”

  “The food at Anasazi Cafe is wonderful. There’s no question about that. And the service is fast and friendly. The prices are moderate, too, despite the fact the restaurant is located inside the largest hotel-casino in the world. As you know, hotel restaurants usually charge exorbitant prices. Everywhere but in Las Vegas, that is.

  “But the ambience is terrible. Which just proves what I’ve written so many times in my Anonymous Gourmet column. In order to be successful—which Anasazi Cafe is—an establishment must lack one of the four attributes of a restaurant: good food, good service, good value, or ambience.”

  “Why do you say the Anasazi Cafe doesn’t have ambience?” queried Bill. “The place is beautiful. The decorations remind me of the architecture in Santa Fe, where Zoltan Baker’s original Anasazi Cafe is located.”

  “That’s decor, not ambience,” Michael corrected didactically. “There are two things that destroy the ambience at Anasazi Cafe. The first is the wrought-iron backs on the chairs. The sadist who designed those chairs must have been inspired by instruments of torture from the Spanish Inquisition. I’d rather spend an hour in an iron maiden than sit on one of those chairs.

  “The second defect is the noise level. It’s only slightly less deafening than sitting next to a loudspeaker at a rock concert. Between the chairs and the raucous din, it’s impossible for anyone except masochists to relax after a meal and chat over a couple of refills of coffee. So, most people get up and leave as soon as they’ve finished eating, and other customers sit down and take their places. As a result of the fast turnover, the number of seatings a day is increased, which, in turn, raises sales and profits.

  “Like everyone else, we’ll put up with the noise and uncomfortable chairs in order to be able to enjoy the great food.”

  THEIRS WAS BUT A SHORT WAIT in line at the restaurant. Once seated, a young waiter wearing a blue denim shirt and black pants took their orders promptly. They started with margaritas and appetizers: guacamole and salsas served with blue corn tortilla chips, which they shared, and barbecued duck quesadillas—roast duck breast, Cascabel barbecue sauce, and Monterey jack cheese between two flour tortillas. The quesadillas came with a field greens salad topped with piñon-crusted goat cheese and sherry-shallot vinaigrette dressing. For the main course, Michael and Bill ordered carne asada “Tampiqueno style”—grilled Angus ribeye steaks with fire-roasted Chipotle salsa and grilled scallions. Kimberly selected the blue corn chicken enchilada with New Mexico green chile salsa. The entrées were accompanied by rice and black beans.

  When dinner was over and Michael handed the waiter his credit card, Bill finally consented to talk about the Lost Doberman Mine. “I can’t prove the place marked on your map was actually the Lost Doberman Mine,” he equivocated. “But I can take you to the exact location indicated on the map.”

  “You’re talking in riddles, Bill. Are you saying there isn’t a gold mine there? The map was a fake?” Michael asked.

  Bill leaned back and roared in laughter. He almost fell over backwards in the chair, which was much too small for his great bulk. “No, I’m not saying that at all. The spot marked on your map is one of the biggest gold mines I’ve ever seen—in a manner of speaking.”

  The waiter returned with Michael’s credit card and his receipt. “I’m ready,” Michael said impatiently, standing. “Let’s go.”

  When they exited the cafe, Michael started to head for the parking lot, but Bill took his shoulder and turned him around. “You’re going the wrong way, Michael. We don’t have to get in the car. The exact location described on the map is about a hundred yards in that direction,” he said, pointing. “It’s approximately at the center of the casino, near the blackjack pit.”

  “You mean—” Kimberly started.

  “That’s right,” Bill confirmed. “The Windsor Palace Hotel and Casino is built smack dab over the Lost Doberman Mine!”

  Michael and Kimberly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  WHEN BILL DROPPED THEM OFF back at Kimberly’s house, Michael noted with satisfaction that the blue Honda was nowhere in sight. Kimberly invited Bill in for coffee, but the big man declined, stating he had to be up before dawn the following morning and needed to get home and to bed early.

  Michael was surprised to find the front door unlocked. He tried to remember if he was the last person out the door or if it was Kimberly. When he flipped on the light switch inside, he knew the answer. It was the burglar who forgot to set the latch.

  Kimberly was in total shock. Her house had been completely ransacked. Things had been tossed from the shelves to the floor, drawers had been emptied, clothes strewn everywhere. Yet, nothing of value seemed to be missing. The television and stereo were still where they were, as was Kimberly’s expensive digital camera, sitting in plain sight on the fireplace mantle.

  While Kimberly phoned the police, Michael moved cautiously from room to room, concerned the burglar might still be inside the house, but he found no one. It wasn’t until after the police had written their report and left and Michael was helping Kimberly straighten up and put things back in their proper places that he thought to look for the gold bars they had stashed in the bottom of Kimberly’s closet. They were gone. He decided to call Mark Caruso. When Mark heard about the theft of the gold ingots he agreed to come right over, and instructed Michael to put on a big pot of coffee.

  Next, Michael phoned Soozie, told her an emergency had come up, and said he wouldn’t be able to see her until the following day. Michael could not tell Soozie about the burglary, else she would know he had not been living with his wife. She seemed dispirited, but told Michael she understood, even though she really didn’t.

  Twenty-Nine

  MARK CARUSO ARRIVED twenty minutes later, his ever-present yellow legal pad tucked under an arm and his ballpoint pen in hand, ready for business. Michael opened the door and invited the detective in. Kimberly waved a greeting from the kitchen and brought a carafe of coffee and a plate of Danish butter cookies into the dining room, and the three of them sat down around the dining room table.

  Mark glanced about the room. “This place doesn’t look too bad,” he observed, sipping on his coffee and munching on a cookie. He turned toward Michael, noting that Michael seemed to be very comfortable and relaxed about his living arrangements with Kimberly. They acted like a typical married couple entertaining a guest in their home. “You say the house was completely torn apart when you got home?”

  “Yes,” Michael replied. “We’ve
straightened up, as best we could. The burglar broke quite a few of Kimberly’s knickknacks—figurines, picture frames, ashtrays, and so on—but, nothing seems to have been stolen. Except for the gold ingots, and we didn’t discover they were gone until after the investigating officers had left.”

  “Ah, yes. The gold ingots. You mentioned them on the telephone. How many gold ingots were there, Michael?” Mark poised his pen over the legal pad.

  “Forty. They were stacked on the floor of Kimberly’s clothes closet.”

  Mark decided to keep a straight face. “Of course. That’s where I would keep my gold ingots, if I had any. Do you know what they were worth?”