Hot Property

by Sherryl Woods

  “So why not just throw out the set? Bingo, no incriminating knives at all.”

  “Because Ingrid already had this one. It probably has fingerprints on it, just like the murder weapon.”

  “Right,” Michael said, looking impressed with her reasoning. Being taken seriously was heady stuff for a woman whose husband had belittled everything she said. “I’ll send it to the lab. I don’t get it, though. Why wouldn’t she turn it over to us in the first place? She must have wanted Allan’s killer caught.”

  “I have a theory about that,” Molly admitted.

  “I’m sure.”

  She scowled at him. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

  “Please.”

  “Okay. What if she’d been left out of Allan’s will? Obviously she liked her lifestyle here. She had no source of income that we know of. She finds the knife, maybe some other evidence on the killer and decides to blackmail him. Chances are it’s someone who has money, and clearly it’s someone who doesn’t want his or her secrets broadcast to the world.”

  “You’ve been reading too damned many scripts.”

  “Admit it,” she said. “It’s possible.”

  He grinned. “I didn’t say they were bad scripts. Let’s check her bank records.”

  They found her checkbook in her purse. Her balance was a scanty $24.87. Michael whistled as he discovered a deposit slip for $10,000.00 in cash. The money, however, was missing, taken, no doubt, by the killer.

  “If I’d known blackmail could be that lucrative around here, even I might have been tempted into a life of crime,” she said.

  “So who on our list of suspects has the kind of cash to even fake a payoff like that?”

  “Not me.”

  “You were at the bottom anyway.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now who does?”

  “Drucilla certainly. And Mendoza. Tyler Jenkins, I guess. Not the Davisons and probably not Roy Meeks. Certainly not the security guard. I like Mendoza. For some reason he really liked the power of the presidency.”

  “Or the kickbacks. If there was a lot of mismanagement going on, he’d probably been getting his cut to turn a blind eye to it.”

  “And his wife’s a gourmet cook. I’d forgotten all about that until now. The paper did a big spread once on some of her recipes. She could very well have a set of knives just like these.”

  “Let’s go pay them a visit, then.”

  “You’ll let me tag along?” she said, surprised.

  “If I don’t, you’ll probably try to climb onto the balcony so you can hear.”

  “I would never do that.” “Right.”

  Since his skepticism was working in her behalf, and since the Mendozas lived on the penthouse floor, Molly decided not to mention that she was terrified of heights. Even on her own lower balcony, she never went near the railing. Occasionally she tested herself by inching close to the edge. Each time she was struck by such an attack of vertigo she had to retreat immediately. As long as she stayed inside at the Mendozas’, though, she ought to be just fine.

  Unfortunately they weren’t at home. They hadn’t been at the pool either. No doubt they’d gone out to celebrate Manny’s appointment to the Ocean Manor Board of Directors.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “We wait.”

  She glanced longingly at the door and thought of Nestor’s ring of keys. “I don’t suppose …”

  “No, we cannot go in.”

  She sighed. “I know. It was just wishful thinking.”

  Just to be sure she didn’t get any more dangerous and illegal ideas, Michael guided her to the elevator, his hand firmly in the middle of her back. The power of that totally innocent touch gave her plenty to think about. In the elevator he punched the buttons for her floor and the lobby.

  “I’ve got to get back outside. Go on and get some sleep.”

  “Brian’s out there.”

  “I’ll have Liza bring him in.”

  Molly was suddenly too exhausted to argue. “You’re probably right.”

  When the doors opened on five, Michael pressed the hold button and gazed down at her. Losing herself in the intensity of that look, Molly almost missed his words.

  “In case I’ve forgotten to mention it, you’ve been a big help in this,” he said.

  Still dazed, she murmured, “Me? You think I’ve helped?”

  He grinned at her astonishment.

  Molly tucked her hands in her pockets to keep from throwing her arms around his neck. “Well, I’ll be damned.” That was all she needed to stiffen her resolve. She would discover the killer if she had to stay awake half the night to figure it out.

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTEEN

  Michael hadn’t returned by the time Molly left for work in the morning. Apparently, he wasn’t having any better luck solving the two crimes than she was. He called, though, at midmorning.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice weary.

  “About as tired as you sound,” she admitted.

  “Didn’t you get any sleep?”

  “Brian woke up twice with nightmares. I think seeing Ingrid’s body made all of this real to him. He was pretty scared. He didn’t want me to leave him at school today. It’s the first time ever he hasn’t been anxious to be rid of me.”

  “God, I’m sorry. I wish like hell I could wrap this up.”

  “Any new leads?”

  “I’ve been running a paper chase on Mendoza all day. I want more than suspicions when I finally get to him.”

  “What have you found?”

  “Zip. Nada. The guy’s so clean, I’m surprised he’s not up for sainthood.”

  “Too clean?”

  “Let’s just say I always find it a little odd when there’s not so much as a traffic ticket on someone’s record. Hell, I’d settle for an overtime parking violation. Otherwise I start wondering who’s been taking care of them for him.”

  “The man builds parking lots. Maybe he’s never needed to park at a meter.”

  “I’m too tired for cute, Molly.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Watch your step out there today. Don’t wander around alone. Okay?”

  She didn’t need to ask why. She could sense Michael’s conviction that the danger had magnified, that for the killer the stakes had gotten bigger than ever. “I’ll be careful.”

  “I’ll be by later unless something breaks. Have Liza or someone come by this evening so you and Brian aren’t in that apartment alone.”

  Molly was quiet for several seconds before finally voicing something that had been on her mind. “Maybe I should send Brian to stay with his father for a few days,” she said. She had considered that possibility with great reluctance when Brian lay trembling in her arms in the middle of the night. Then she’d thought about the last angry exchange she’d had with Hal DeWitt, the last of many times when he’d suggested she wasn’t strong enough to have custody of their son.

  “That’s up to you,” Michael said. “Could be, though, that he’d be more terrified if he couldn’t see you and know you’re okay.”

  She thought of Vince’s offer to send both of them to California. If she mentioned it, Michael might very well insist she take Vince up on it. The truth of the matter was, though, that she wanted to stay near Michael. Since knowing him and feeling his respect for her grow, she’d felt herself getting stronger again, more in charge of her life. Foolhardy or not, she’d finally realized she really could take care of herself and Brian. With all that had happened, she hadn’t cracked. She wasn’t the inept woman Hal DeWitt had almost had her believing she was.

  “We’ll be there, when you get there,” she said finally.

  “Later, then.”

  Later, though, Molly had a brainstorm. It came to her as she was parking her car that night at the condo. They had never fully investigated the garage. She and Michael had both assumed that Allan’s fury at Brian when he caught him playing there was linked to th
e fact that the kids were spraying the hose. What if that weren’t the case? What if he’d just made a discovery and hadn’t wanted the kids near it—whatever it was—until he’d had a chance to fully investigate?

  With Brian upstairs waiting for her, she didn’t dare take the time to explore now, but she vowed to get Liza to look after him so she could come back down. As soon as they’d had dinner, she called Liza.

  “Can you come over and stay with Brian for a while?”

  “Sure. What’s up? You and the hunk heading out for the evening?”

  “I don’t think the hunk has time to date in the middle of a murder investigation. If he did, I’m not likely to be the companion of choice.”

  Liza gave an exaggerated sigh. “Priorities and timing are everything in life, aren’t they? So what are you doing?”

  “I just have to run an errand.”

  “Molly DeWitt,” Liza said skeptically, “what are you up to?”

  “An errand, that’s it.”

  “Exactly what sort of errand are you running that isn’t suitable for Brian? Do you have a fetish for X-rated movies you’ve never mentioned?”

  Molly improvised. “He has homework.”

  “Which he probably finished hours ago.”

  Exasperated and guilty, Molly retorted, “Are you coming over or not?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Liza was there in two minutes carrying a baseball bat. Molly’s eyes widened. “What on earth is that for?”

  “Protection.”

  “I think you’ll be safe enough in here.”

  “We’re not going to be in here. We’re coming with you.”

  “Liza, no. Not a chance.”

  “I’m not letting you go do whatever you’re considering doing on your own. I’ll use this on you, if I have to.”

  She actually sounded as if she meant it. Molly groaned and called Brian. “We’re going down to check out the garage to see if we can figure out why Mr. Winecroft got so upset when he found you playing down there.”

  Brian’s eyes grew as wide as Liza’s had. “Mom, maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Detective O’Hara really won’t like it.”

  “And how do you know so much about what Detective O’Hara likes and doesn’t like?”

  “He called me this afternoon.”

  “He did? What did he want?”

  “Just to talk and stuff. We made a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “He said if I’d take care of you, he’d find the killer.”

  Quite a deal, Molly thought. Apparently, though, it had reassured Brian and that was all that mattered. “You can still keep your bargain. We’ll all go to the garage together and we’ll tell him everything we find.”

  Brian frowned. “Jeez, Mom, I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

  Molly’s expression turned grim. “It’s the best deal you’re getting from me. We’ll be just fine if we stick together. Liza has a bat.”

  Brian rolled his eyes. “Mom, have you ever seen her play ball? She’d miss an elephant.”

  Liza looked offended. “See if I ever play with you again, kid.”

  Molly left the apartment without waiting to see if they followed. She knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that they wouldn’t.

  Ridiculously enough, they found themselves tiptoeing across the concrete in the garage. When they reached the well-lighted greenhouse area, Molly led the way inside. There was nothing spooky or frightening about the escapade so far. Nor was there anything especially revealing. A few pieces of rusted equipment had been abandoned in a plastic tray. Bags of fertilizer and potting soil were stacked in one corner. A hose lay coiled nearby. Other than that, the only things in the greenhouse were growing. A few palms, some more disgustingly healthy impatiens, a scraggly fern in dire need of misting.

  Molly kicked at a bag of soil in disgust. “Well, this was certainly a waste of time.”

  “Maybe not,” Liza said slowly.

  Molly followed the direction of her gaze. She was staring at one of those portable sheds a few yards away. It was in an assigned parking place. Either an owner had put it there for additional storage or the space had been unsold and the shed belonged to the condominium.

  “What’s in here?” Liza said moving closer. Molly and Brian were right behind her.

  “I’m not sure,” Molly said. “I’ve never even noticed it before. I don’t park on this side.”

  “I’ve seen it,” Brian said. “It’s open sometimes in the daytime.”

  “Have you seen the inside?”

  “It’s just boxes and stuff.”

  “Who’s had it open?”

  “Maintenance guys, people like that.”

  “Was it open the day you fought with Mr. Winecroft?”

  “I don’t remember. I don’t think so, unless Mr. Winecroft had just closed the door or something. Nobody else was here.”

  Molly tried the handle. It was locked. “So much for that.”

  “Wait a second,” Liza said. She went back into the greenhouse and found a piece of wire that had been used to close one of the bags of fertilizer. She twisted it loose and brought it back. An expression of concentration on her face, she jiggled it in the lock for about fifteen seconds and the door swung open.

  “How’d you do that?” Brian asked in awe.

  “Don’t you dare tell him,” Molly warned. She scowled at her too curious son. “If I so much as see you within fifty yards of a locked door with a piece of wire in your hands, I’ll ground you until you graduate from high school.”

  “Save the parental lectures,” Liza said. “Let’s check this out and get out of here.”

  They stepped inside. The shed was hot and stuffy, its single aisle narrow. Shelves lined both sides. The shelves were crammed with boxes, bottles, and jars of cleaning supplies. Whole drums of liquid carpet shampoo sat on the floor. In all, there was more than it would take to clean Ocean Manor from top to bottom for months on end.

  “This hardly seems like the stuff over which murders are committed,” Liza said. “I can’t tell you the last time I got worked up over copper polish.”

  “A lot of copper polish,” Molly pointed out.

  Liza stared at her. “Meaning?”

  “Do you know of any copper in our building? Maybe the pipes in the plumbing, but I doubt they spend a lot of time polishing those.”

  Liza grabbed up a bottle. “Maybe it can be used on brass. See, it says so right here. And there’s brass in the elevators.”

  “Not enough to justify several hundred dollars’ worth of polish.”

  “So maybe the order came in by mistake.”

  “Then why didn’t someone send it back? How much of this was ordered because we need it and how much because somebody got a cut of the action?”

  Liza was shaking her head. She gestured around the tiny shed. “The profit on this is peanuts.”

  “Maybe it’s also just the tip of the iceberg. Come on. I want to call Michael and let him know. He can decide if it’s important or not. I’ve got the budget figures upstairs, too. We can see how much all of this cost.”

  When they got back to the fifth floor, Molly’s door was standing wide open. Liza stared down the hall indignantly. “Why, of all the nerve,” she said and marched straight toward the apartment, bat upraised.

  Molly caught her arm. “Are you out of your mind? Let’s go into your place and call the police.”

  Before they could do that, though, she heard Michael’s voice from inside her apartment. He was cussing someone out in a mix of English and Spanish. Molly caught the drift of his displeasure in both languages.

  “Madre de Dios, are you loco? I told you not to let her out of your sight. I don’t care if you followed her to the apartment and then sat out front to watch in case she decided to leave again. Didn’t it occur to you that she could leave by foot or go someplace else in the building? The killer lives here, dammit!”

  Molly touched his shoulder.
Michael whirled around, his complexion an exhausted gray under the olive tone. He slammed the phone into the cradle and pulled her into his arms. “Jesus, I thought something had happened to you.”

  Molly could feel the slam of his heart in his chest, the tension in his muscles as his arms enfolded her. She might very well have stayed right where she was forever, but Michael let her go as a sigh of relief shuddered through him.