A Time For Us (Michael Kaplan Mysteries)

by David W. Cowles

  “If Lacey and Lewis did have an affair, I can understand why they’d want to keep it quiet,” Myra observed. “Rick’s married and has two kids. Lois may not care if Rick’s wife finds out about them, but Rick certainly would.”

  Kimberly spoke up. “It seems to me that for Lewis to get rid of a good employee like Nellie Sherman just because Nellie might have overheard her making love with Lacey was carrying things to an extreme. Even if Nellie knew for certain Lois and Rick were having an affair, she would have no reason to want to make trouble for either of them. These days, there’s little opprobrium attached to extramarital affairs. The only people who get upset and angry are the betrayed wife or cuckolded husband. Nobody else really cares.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” Myra agreed. “That’s why at first I discounted what Nellie told me. I figured perhaps her ego wouldn’t accept the fact she’d been terminated for no apparent reason and she needed to try to justify why she was let go. That is, I thought that way until I received a phone call a couple of hours later from Morgan Penny.”

  “Who’s she?” Michael asked. “I don’t recall you mentioning her before.”

  “Morgan works in Surveillance, down in the room in the basement where they monitor the video taken by the eye-in-the-sky cameras.” Myra cleared the salad plates, plugged in an electric knife, and began slicing the corned beef.

  Kimberly couldn’t wait for Myra to continue. “What did Morgan say when she called?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing—except she had to talk with me in person right away, and not in my office or anywhere at Blue Hawaii. She wanted me to meet her in a bar, but I had her come here to our condo instead, as I wanted to get dinner started.”

  “I’m glad for that,” Michael said. “This dinner is magnificent. But go on—”

  “Morgan told me how much she despises Lacey. And then, she warned me about him. She said I should be careful never to incur either his wrath or his favor.”

  Michael placed two red potatoes and a helping of steamed cabbage on his plate. He removed the lid from a bottle of tiny green Tabasco peppers and sprinkled a few drops of the infused vinegar over the cabbage. “Why would Morgan think you should be careful of Lacey? Was it because you’d asked him if he could confirm whether Cicily Purdue had a meeting with Lewis?”

  Myra shook her head from side to side. “Morgan didn’t know anything about that,” she replied. “At least, I don’t think she did. That subject never came up in our conversation. What Morgan wanted to tell me was that Lacey has given orders to the surveillance crew to have the cameras follow me everywhere I go at Blue Hawaii.”

  “Whaaat!” Michael exclaimed. “Why on earth would he do that?”

  Myra shrugged. “I don’t know, and neither did Morgan. I’ve never heard of Surveillance keeping such close tabs on an employee unless they suspect the person is stealing from the company or doing something else illegal on the property. I know I certainly haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Maybe Lacey’s infatuated with you,” Kimberly giggled. “Michael, we’d better watch out. We may have some competition for Myra’s affections.”

  Myra then dropped her bomb. “Morgan said Lacey had the cameras trained on Cicily Purdue for several weeks before she was murdered. She believes Lacey had an unnatural obsession with Cicily. Morgan even implied—no, she came right out and said she suspects Lacey killed Cicily. But she has no evidence. It’s just her gut feeling.”

  “Ohmygod,” Michael moaned. “Do you think there’s any possibility Morgan could be right?”

  Again, Myra shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I discounted Morgan’s story at first, too, just as I did Nellie’s. But the more I thought about it, the more I began to wonder. You met Lacey the other day, Michael. What did you think of him?”

  Michael was in the process of building a sandwich of corned beef on the rye bread. “Lacey does seem to be a bit paranoid. He questioned Mark Caruso about why Mark and I were at Blue Hawaii. I got the impression Lacey was a little ticked off at first because he assumed Mark was there on police business and hadn’t bothered to check in with him. I suppose Lacey thought I was there to cover a story for the Times. In all fairness, I can’t say I would fault him for being concerned. If I were in Lacey’s shoes as Chief of Security, I wouldn’t want the cops coming in the casino and going behind my back, either.

  “What do you know about Morgan?”

  “I’d never met her before, but we took to each other right away. She’s about our age, black, and incredibly beautiful. Morgan’s quite literate, and I would guess she has an extremely high IQ. And she’s lesbian.”

  Kimberly raised an eyebrow. “How did that subject come up?” she questioned.

  Myra thought for a moment. “I don’t exactly recall. Oh, yes. Morgan was saying how cloyingly sweet Lacey always was to her, and I said maybe he had a crush on her. That’s when she told me she wasn’t interested in him or any other man.

  “You’ll really like Morgan. I told her about our ménage, and she wants to meet both of you. I’m going to have her over for dinner soon.”

  Michael jumped up from his seat. “You told her about our ménage!” he shouted. “Why would you do that, Myra? If Morgan were to tell anyone else—”

  Myra waved for Michael to sit back down. “I didn’t intend to tell her, Michael. It just sorta slipped out. When Morgan told me she was lesbian, I told her I was bisexual. Later on, she asked me for a date, and, well, I’ve had a lot of experience turning down men who try to hit on me—every woman has—but I’ve never been asked out by a woman before. I was flustered and really didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want Morgan to think I didn’t like her or I was turning her down because of the color of her skin. I’d already told her you didn’t mind I was bisexual, and I suppose she took my comment to mean you didn’t care if I dated. So, I said I was flattered—and really, I was—but that I am fully committed to the two of you.

  “I honestly don’t think Morgan would ever say anything about us to anyone else. I know when you meet her, you’ll agree with me. I’m going to tell both of you, it was therapeutic for me to share our secret with someone. I’m not ashamed of the way we’re living, I’m proud of it.”

  Kimberly sensed Myra’s feelings had been bruised by Michael’s sudden outburst. “Of course you are, Myra. Michael and I are, too. We’re all certain we’ve found the perfect solution to the age-old problem of a lovers’ triangle. Eventually, we’ll want all our friends to know about our ménage à trois. All Michael was saying was that right now we need to be careful.”

  “That’s right,” Michael added. He also felt the need to assuage Myra’s strained emotions. “If you feel Morgan can be trusted, that’s good enough for me. I was just a little shocked that you told her, that’s all. You said you never met Morgan before this afternoon. You two must have really hit it off big-time.”

  “You’re not jealous, are you Michael?” Myra asked. He shook his head no. “How about you, Kim?”

  “No, I’m not jealous. You did say you were flattered when she asked you for a date, though.”

  Myra shook her head. “Yes, I was flattered. As I told you, Morgan is incredibly beautiful and seems like she’d be a lot of fun. In or out of bed. But neither of you have to worry about Morgan. I have no reason to date her. I love the two of you dearly. You’re my family, and we’re complete and very, very satisfying. I do want us to be friends with Morgan, though. All of us.”

  The phone rang and Kimberly answered it.

  “Kaplan residence, this is Kimberly.”

  “Hi, Kim. This is Mark Caruso. I need to talk to Myra. Is she there?”

  “Yes. Hold on just a sec.” Kimberly handed the cordless to Myra.

  “Hello.”

  “Myra, this is Mark Caruso—”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Mark. Michael is right here. I thought the call was for me.”

  “No, wait, Myra. It’s you I want to talk to.”

  Myra had
a puzzled look on her face. “What is it, Mark?”

  “I need you to come down to Metro right away. A woman’s been murdered. She had your name, phone number, and address written down on a piece of paper in her pocket.”

  Myra gasped. “Who … who is she, Mark?”

  “I don’t know yet. At this time, all I have is sketchy information from the officer who was sent out to investigate a 9-1-1 call. A man from my department is on his way over to the crime scene now. I’ll have all the details by the time you get here. Please hurry.”

  “I’ll be right there, Mark.”

  When Myra hung up the phone, Michael asked. “What’s wrong, honey? You’re white as a sheet.”

  “That was Mark Caruso on the phone.”

  “I gathered that. What did he want?”

  “A woman was murdered. My name and our address and phone number were on a piece of paper in her pocket. Mark didn’t know who the woman was, but I’m sure I do. It has to be Morgan. I gave her our address and phone number so she’d be able to get here this afternoon. Rick Lacey must have found out Morgan was going to warn me about him and followed her here and then murdered her after she left.

  “Michael, I’m scared. I think Lacey may try to make me his next victim.”

  Twenty

  MICHAEL AND KIMBERLY insisted on accompanying Myra to Mark Caruso’s office. They soon found themselves sitting around a battered metal table in the conference room at Metro. The walls of the room had been freshly painted. Computer beige replaced the pea-soup green that had accumulated a thick layer of grime and cigarette smoke over the past twenty years. The entire building was now smoke-free, much to every smoker’s chagrin. On one wall, a large two-way mirror gave mute testimony that the conference room doubled as an interrogation room.

  A uniformed officer brought four cups of coffee and placed them on the table. Myra was noticeably nervous and badly wanted a cigarette. She took a sip of the coffee, and wanted a cigarette even more.

  Mark turned to Michael and Kim. “You didn’t have to come down here,” he stated. Mark had his yellow lined legal pad and ballpoint pen sitting in front of him on the table. “I only needed to talk with Myra. I’m beginning to think of you as the Three Musketeers. Or, the Three Stooges, hawr, hawr. When I see one of you, I see all of you.” He noticed Kimberly was wearing a shiny gold ring that matched Michael’s and Myra’s wedding bands. Despite his intense curiosity, Mark refrained from mentioning his discovery. For now.

  Kimberly reached in her purse for a cigarette, then remembered seeing signs posted stating smoking was no longer allowed in the building. “We wouldn’t think of letting Myra come down here alone tonight. If it turns out one of her friends was murdered, she’ll need all the support she can get.”

  “Who was killed, anyway?” Michael asked impatiently. “Myra said you’d have all the information by the time we got here.”

  “Well, you managed to make it here sooner than I expected,” Mark responded, checking his watch. “I’m waiting for a call from an officer in the field. He’s getting a positive ID on the woman from her boyfriend as we speak.”

  When Myra heard the word boyfriend, she knew immediately it was not Morgan Penny who had been murdered, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank God, it’s not Morgan,” she blurted out. But if it wasn’t Morgan, who was it? she wondered anxiously.

  The phone on the table rang. Mark picked it up. He made grunting noises as the person on the other end of the line talked. All the time Mark was on the phone, he made copious notes on his legal pad.

  “Do you know a woman named Nellie Sherman?” Mark asked Myra, when he concluded the phone call.

  It was not necessary for Myra to reply verbally in order for Mark to have his answer. She threw her hand to her mouth and gasped. Tears poured from her eyes. Michael draped an arm around Myra’s shoulder to comfort her.

  Mark waited patiently for Myra to regain her composure. “The victim’s boyfriend went to her apartment after he got off work. They weren’t living together, but he had a key. He let himself in and found Sherman in her bedroom, sprawled across the bed.

  “I’m told it’s a gruesome sight. I’m glad I asked you to meet me here instead of at the crime scene. Sherman’s head was bashed in with a three-foot length of steel rebar. Her clothes had been ripped from her body. The murderer raped her with the rebar after she was dead and left the metal rod in her vagina. And Sherman’s nipples were cut off with one of her own kitchen knives and placed over her eyeballs. It was a real sicko who did this, let me tell you.”

  “Wait a minute—” Michael interrupted. “Sherman’s murderer has to be the same person who killed Cicily Purdue. Both women were viciously murdered, and the murder weapon was inserted in their vaginas. And the killer cut off the nipples of both women and placed them over their eyes.”

  “Of course,” Mark stated. “It’s patently obvious Purdue and Sherman were killed by the same person. I know Sherman’s death isn’t a copycat crime, because the gruesome details about Purdue’s murder were never released to the media—except for you, of course, Michael, and you promised me the Times wouldn’t print them.

  “Now, what I need to find out is what relationship the two murdered women had to each other, and why Sherman was carrying Myra’s home address and phone number. They were written on the back of a keno ticket found in the pocket of her dress.”

  Myra was over the initial shock. Her grief had turned to rage. “I had lunch with Nellie today. At the Blue Hawaii. I wrote my name and address on the back of a keno ticket because she was going to call me. All of us—Nellie’s boyfriend, too—were going to get together for dinner in a few days.”

  Mark was furiously writing. He had devised his own form of shorthand, which enabled him to take minutely detailed notes as fast as the average person could speak. “I gather, then, you didn’t know Nellie Sherman very well. Or, at least, she’d never called you at home or been to your house. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Myra replied.

  “Did Sherman work at Blue Hawaii?”

  “No. Yes.”

  “Well, which is it?”

  “Mark, for Pete’s sake, give me enough time to explain. Ask your questions afterwards, if I haven’t gone into enough detail to suit you.” Myra was becoming frustrated, and she really, really wanted a cigarette. “I knew Nellie only casually. She worked for NVEnergy, but was formerly employed at Blue Hawaii. In the Human Resources department. As a matter of fact, Nellie and Jeff Herbert sat at adjoining desks. About five months ago, Nellie was terminated. She was told her job position had been eliminated.

  “We—that’s Michael, Kimberly, and me—went to Shabbat services last Friday night and ran into Nellie at the synagogue. Even though it had been five months since she was let go, Nellie was still smarting about the way she was discharged and wanted to commiserate with me about it. I thought she just needed to vent, to get the matter off her chest. So, Nellie and I had lunch together today.”

  Mark’s eyebrows raised quizzically. “Go on—why was Sherman terminated?”

  Myra related the story that Nellie had told her. It was the second time she’d told the tale that evening, as she had given Michael and Kimberly an instant replay of her conversation with Nellie over dinner.

  When Myra finished, Mark summarized their knowledge. “Some of the pieces of this puzzle are starting to fall into place.

  “There are now three homicides involving Blue Hawaii personnel. One. Cicily Purdue, who was still employed. Two. Jeff Herbert, who had just quit. Three. Nellie Sherman, who was canned five months ago. Two of the victims—Herbert and Sherman—worked in Human Resources.”

  “Cicily also had a connection with H.R.,” Myra reminded him. “That is, she did if you believe Cicily met with Lois Lewis the day before she was murdered.”

  “I hadn’t forgotten about that,” Mark stated. He seemed a trifle perturbed by Myra’s interruption. “And you, Myra. I’m trying to figure out your connection with the vi
ctims.”

  Myra looked surprised. “My connection? I didn’t have any connection with them at all. Other than I also work at Blue Hawaii. Together with about two thousand other employees.

  “I’d never met Cicily Purdue. As I told you, I knew Jeff fairly well and Nellie only casually. We’d have coffee or lunch together once in a while, but it was never an arranged thing. We just shared the same table in the Help’s Hall.

  “When having lunch or taking a coffee break, casino workers tend to gravitate toward those with similar positions in the company. The engineers usually sit together. So do the restaurant workers and the change girls and the housekeepers and the security guards. Those of us who work in an office will usually find other office employees to eat with. It’s sort of a self-imposed segregation—not by ethnicity, but by job category.”

  Mark finished his coffee and contemplated for a minute. “Let’s see, now. Purdue and Sherman were killed by the same person—obviously, a sexual pervert. We know that because of the killer’s M.O. There’s nothing at this time to connect Herbert’s death to the others, except for the tie-in with Human Resources.

  “We also know Purdue’s roommate is completely innocent. Peter Walker had an ironclad alibi for his whereabouts at the time of her death. He couldn’t have killed Sherman, either. Walker left town as soon as he was released from jail. He told me he had a gig waiting for him in Branson, Missouri.

  “Sherman’s boyfriend isn’t a suspect, either. He’s the one who found her body and called 9-1-1. I understand the man’s practically a basket case right now because of finding her mutilated body. That means we still don’t have any suspects.”

  “Yes, we do!” Myra contradicted. “Rick Lacey!”

  Mark was completely baffled. “Rick Lacey? Crest Resorts’ Chief of Security? Why on earth would you suspect him, Myra?”

  “A woman named Morgan Penny called me today.”

  “Are you talking about the same Morgan you thought might have been the victim?” Mark asked. “Why did you think she’d been killed?”