Tres Leches & Murder: An Oceanside Cozy Mystery - Book 3

by Susan Gillard

  * * *

  “That’s true,” said Heather. “He said there was no reason to kill Theodore, but they were gaining and losing money every gathering. He also had a bit of a temper.”

  "He threw the beer at the wall and licked it," Amy said. "That sounds like a man who might break into a rival's house and let things get out of hand."

  * * *

  “But what are the odds that he’s the killer?” Heather asked.

  * * *

  “I’d say even odds,” Amy said, smiling.

  * * *

  “The tour,” Jamie gently reminded them.

  They listened as the guide listed and gave fun tidbits about the many famous people who had visited the island before. The list was historical and extensive. It included Ernest Hemingway, Tennessee Williams, and John Audubon. Harry S. Truman had also stayed there in a place that was dubbed "The Little White House."

  * * *

  Heather felt her mind wander to the list of suspects bouncing around in her head. She leaned over to Amy to discuss another one.

  * * *

  "Then there's also the mysterious bookie," Heather said. "If he's the reason that Theodore was pawning his stuff, then there could be a serious money issue."

  * * *

  “And he could have killed to get it back,” Amy agreed.

  * * *

  “Mom,” Lilly said, giving her a playful nudge.

  * * *

  “Sorry,” said Heather, hugging her daughter. She tried to give her full attention to the tour.

  * * *

  Then she listened to the stories about the natives who had lived on the island and about how the warriors had left the bones of their enemies there on the sand. It accumulated so much that the nearby beach was called Bone Key.

  * * *

  It was an informative and interesting ride. Heather was very happy that she hadn't missed the outing but did wish she wasn't so distracted during it. She considered hopping on the train again after the case was solved so she could fully absorb all the information about pirates and explorers and conch shells.

  * * *

  When they disembarked from the trolley, the group decided to get lunch together.

  * * *

  “As long as it’s nowhere that gives me heartburn,” Leila joked.

  Heather groaned. “Don’t remind me about Mr. Rankle.”

  * * *

  Amy said, "We've been so busy trying to crack this case that we haven't had a chance to deal with that nut."

  * * *

  They found an eatery that looked appealing while they were on the train and sat down at a large table that they set up for the group. They were looking over their menus when Heather received a call from Detective Smith.

  * * *

  “They found the bookie,” Heather said.

  * * *

  “Do you have to go right now?” Lilly asked.

  * * *

  Heather shook her head. She told Detective Smith that she would be over after lunch to hear what he had found out. She was proud of her restraint and how she was trying to balance all the aspects of her life together.

  * * *

  Then Detective Smith told her that the suspect should be in custody by the time she finished and they would interview him at the station. It was perfect timing. Heather smiled to herself.

  * * *

  “So, what appetizer should we get?” Heather asked.

  * * *

  They decided on getting some samplers, and then Ryan said with a laugh, "If you two need to discuss the case now, you can."

  * * *

  “Who? Us?” Amy asked. “We know how to shut off our sleuthing senses for a little while to enjoy the experience with our loved ones.”

  * * *

  “And,” Heather chuckled. “We won’t get much further until after we talk to the new suspect.”

  The Bookie

  “You’ve got nothing on me,” Max Brookston said. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and a determined expression.

  “Even as we tried to bring you in for questioning, you tried to get Detective Peters to place a bet on a football game,” Detective Smith said.

  “I was just testing to make sure that you were honest cops,” Brookston said “You passed. But you are wasting your time with me. Nothing I do is illegal.”

  “Not even murder?” Peters asked.

  Heather and Amy watched the exchange on the other side of the two-way mirror. She was disappointed that they couldn't be in the room with the detectives and suspect but knew that even allowing them to watch was a big step for Detective Smith. She looked over at Amy to see how she felt about it, but she was fidgeting with her bag.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think there’s a hole in my purse,” Amy said. “I hope I didn’t lose anything.”

  “I’ll help you look after the interrogation,” Heather offered. Then she focused back on the suspect.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with that,” Brookston said.

  “Don’t you want to know who it was?” Detective Smith said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Brookston said. “I didn’t have anything to do with any murder.”

  “Fair enough,” Detective Smith said. “We’d like to talk to you about Theodore Turner.”

  “What about him?”

  “How well did you know him?” Detective Smith asked.

  “We met a few times,” Brookston said. “To discuss sports.”

  “Discuss and bet on sports?” Peters asked.

  “To discuss,” Brookston said again. “He wasn’t someone I spoke with regularly.”

  “What about recently?” Detective Smith asked.

  “No. It had been a few weeks since we chatted.”

  "Why the pause?" Detective Smith asked. "Did one of your conversations go poorly?"

  “No,” Brookston said. “Our conversations were always amiable, and brief, and left no room for further discussion.”

  “So, you wouldn’t send someone after him to finish one of your discussions?” Detective Smith asked.

  “Officers,” he said. “Firstly, I’m someone who is easy to get along with. And I would never have the problems that you two seem to be implying. Secondly, this is Theodore Turner that we’re talking about, right?”

  “Right.”

  "I know that gambling with money is frowned upon and perhaps illegal in some areas," Brookston said. "But you would not begrudge us a friendly sportsman bet of shaking hands, would you?"

  “Fine,” Detective Smith said, eager for the information. “For the sake of argument, you only bet handshakes.”

  “Well, this Theodore Turner. He would only bet twenty, maybe fifty handshakes. We’re not talking thousands of handshakes here. It was kid stuff.”

  “You’re saying that Theodore Turner never made any substantial bets with you?” Detective Smith said.

  “That’s right, officers. I’m sorry, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. Not that I would harm anyone, but I had absolutely no reason to harm that young man.”

  It looked like the detectives were about to finish their interrogation. Heather banged on the glass, hoping they would remember the question she wanted them to ask. Her banging seemed to work. Max Brookston jumped at the table, surprised by the sound, and Detective Smith asked another question.

  "Does a straight flush made of hearts from nine to a king mean anything to you?"

  Brookston shrugged. “It’s the second-best hand you could get. I mean, it’s a great hand to get. There’s only one higher than it. Then again, if that one higher hand comes out, then it can still lose. Why are you asking this?”

  “Peters wants to learn to play poker,” Detective Smith said, dismissing the question. He and his partner got up to leave the room.

  “I think I just figured something out,” Heather said.

  “Where my phone is?” Amy asked, still looking through her bag. “I hope it didn’t fall out on the train.”

  “The
significance of the cards,” she said. “It wasn’t referring to specific hand that was dealt during a game, but it was still leaving us a message. I wonder if it was intentional.”

  “You’ve lost me,” Amy said. “Just like I’ve lost my phone.”

  The detectives joined them.

  “I’m afraid that didn’t go quite the way we hoped,” Detective Smith said. “I told us not to get ahead of ourselves.”

  “I think he’s telling the truth,” Peters said. “At least, about the murder part. He is definitely organizing some gambling that goes beyond handshakes.”

  "Now that he's on our radar, we'll have to keep an eye on him," Detective Smith said. "I mean, that you will have to. I'll be retiring soon, so it will be up to you."

  Peters gulped and then smiled.

  “Do you happen to have an idea of when you will be retiring?” Heather tried to as gently. “I’m sure Ryan would like to know.”

  “I can’t think about that until this case is solved,” said Detective Smith.

  "Then you're almost there," said Amy, digging through her bag. "Heather figured out the card thing. Maybe you can get her to tell you what it is. But it's only a matter of time until she busts the rest of the case wide open. Meanwhile, I'm dealing with another mystery without any help. What fell out of my bag since this hole developed? And where is my cell phone?"

  "Oh, calm down," Heather said. She took her cell phone out of her own bag and dialed Amy's number. They heard the ringtone, and Amy realized it was in her jacket pocket.

  "I normally don't have pockets big enough to do that…" she said. "But great work, investigators. And hopefully, I didn't lose anything else through that hole. Could you see why I was concerned though?"

  “The phone,” Heather gasped.

  “Yeah. It’s right here,” Amy said, waving it around.

  “No,” Heather said. “It’s not that. I just figured out the case. I know who did it.”

  “Who?” asked Amy.

  “The real question is can we prove it?” Heather said.

  The Arrest

  Heather and Amy arrived at Betty’s hotel room, hurrying to get there ahead of the detectives. Both Leticia and Edward were there. Leticia was answering emails on her phone while Edward was still trying to convince his mom that she would have to move in with him.

  * * *

  “Could we take Betty for a little walk?” Heather asked.

  * * *

  “We think some fresh air would do her some good,” Amy agreed.

  * * *

  “Are you crazy?” Edward asked. “She’s not going anywhere with you two.”

  * * *

  “Then maybe you want to step into the hallway,” Heather suggested.

  “Why?”

  * * *

  “You don’t want what’s going to happen to be in front of her,” Heather said.

  * * *

  “This is ridiculous,” Edward said.

  * * *

  However, then Detectives Smith and Peters arrived on the scene. Detective Smith told him he was under arrest for the murder of Theodore Turner and read him his rights.

  * * *

  “No,” Betty said. “This is impossible. He was with me a physical therapy at the time of the murder.”

  * * *

  “He was with you at the time we thought the murder was,” Heather said. “But the reason we were able to pin the window of opportunity down to just an hour was because of the phone calls.”

  “Right,” said Betty. “Teddy called us. So, he was alive then.”

  “Your phone went off in Donut Delights before, do you remember?”

  * * *

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  “You had trouble hearing that ringtone,” Heather said. “But it was quite loud to many others in the shop. You always keep it at that volume, don’t you?”

  * * *

  Betty nodded.

  * * *

  “Then Edward would have heard your phone ring,” Heather said. “But he didn’t respond to the sound. He didn’t want you to pick it up.”

  “But he spoke to Teddy.”

  * * *

  "He told us that he spoke to Theodore," Heather said. "But he was just providing an alibi for himself to mask when he actually committed the crime."

  * * *

  “And when was that?” Edward asked.

  * * *

  "Betty, you said that you left your purse inside, didn't you?" Heather asked. "So your sons helped you inside the car. And then they went inside. Edward was gone for a few minutes and then re returned with your bag."

  * * *

  “He was sweating,” Betty said. “I thought it was because he was hurrying to get me to my appointment on time.”

  * * *

  “It was, mom,” Edward said. “I could never hurt my brother.”

  * * *

  “You used his own gun and shot him when he wasn’t expecting it. Then you quickly broke the glass on the back door and took his cell phone,” said Heather.

  * * *

  “This is crazy,” said Edward.

  "When I called Amy's phone to help her find it, I realized how you did it. You called both your mom's phone and your own from Theodore's cell phone to give you an alibi. All you had to do was hit a button, and everyone believed Theodore was killed later than he was," said Heather.

  * * *

  “The cell phone towers will confirm this,” Detective Smith said. “They have records of what the closest one it. And a call from the Turner home would be different from at the doctor’s.”

  * * *

  "You replaced the cell phone on the charger before the police arrived when your mother was distracted," said Heather.

  * * *

  "But he had so many enemies from his gambling," said Edward.

  * * *

  "That's what you wanted us to think," said Heather. "But he never gambled much money, and there was no reason for anyone to go after him. You just set the scene to keep us searching in the wrong direction. You placed the poker hand on the floor so we would assume the killer was after him because of a gamble gone wrong. But this wasn't related to a specific hand in a game he played. It was you planting evidence."

  * * *

  “No,” Edward said. “It must have been a bookie or another gambler.”

  * * *

  “The hand you placed on the ground was telling whether you meant it to be or not,” said Heather. “You placed the second-best poker hand on the floor. Whether this was an intentional message or subconscious, you were saying that you thought Theodore was the second-best son. You thought you were the best.”

  * * *

  “I am the best,” Edward said. “All I ever wanted was my mom’s welfare. But she chose to stay with a gambler and a hooligan. I needed to get her away from him. It was for her own good.”

  “And it had nothing to do with the money?” Leticia asked.

  * * *

  “I only wanted to make sure she was protected and cared for. I could do it so much better,” Edward said. “If she’d only move to me.”

  * * *

  “If you really wanted to protect and care for her, then you’d also care about what she wanted. She wanted to live where we grew up. And she wanted her other son alive,” Leticia said. “Don’t pretend this was about anything besides you getting your own way.”

  * * *

  “Mom, you believe me, don’t you?” Edward asked. “I did it for you.”

  “Oh, Eddie,” Betty cried. “How could you?”

  * * *

  Detective Smith led Edward away, as Leticia hugged her mom. Peters paused and looked at an open suitcase.

  * * *

  “Is this Edward’s suitcase sitting here in plain sight?” he asked.

  * * *

  Leticia nodded.

  * * *

  “Then I’m going to take this black jacket into evidence,” he said. “And look at that, it looks like there’s
a tear on the arm.”

  * * *

  “Take it,” Betty said. “Take whatever you want. Nothing matters anymore.”

  * * *

  Detective Peters bowed out of the room with the new evidence. Leticia was still hugging her mom.

  * * *

  Heather caught her eye and tried to convey a message without saying anything. Surprisingly, it seemed to work.

  * * *

  “I’ve been a bad daughter,” Leticia said.

  * * *

  “No,” Betty said.

  * * *