“I’ll mention the possibility to the investigating officer,” Michael said dutifully. “Then I suggest we get out of here.”
“Now? But what about the investigation?”
“It’s under control without your help.”
“I just meant it seems early to be releasing suspects.”
“You consider yourself a suspect? I’ll admit I found your reluctance to dip your toes in the water a bit suspicious, but I never really considered the possibility that you might know Tessa Lafferty’s body was in there.”
Molly scowled at his good-natured sarcasm. “There are times, Michael O’Hara, when I find you incredibly irritating.”
“I know the feeling. Liza, do you want to ride home with us?”
“Shouldn’t I stay?”
“If the police are through questioning you, I don’t see why. They’ll want a formal statement tomorrow, but tonight I think, for all intents and purposes, the party’s over.”
“I suppose,” Liza said dismally. “Can you imagine what the coverage will be like in tomorrow’s paper once the reporters get wind of this? I’m surprised the place isn’t overrun already.”
“It is,” Michael told them. “The police are keeping them at bay. I’ll see if we can’t slip out to the parking lot via the south access road, rather than going through the front door. We should be able to evade the bulk of them that way.”
While he went off to have one last conversation with Detective Abrams and the other investigating officers, Molly regarded Liza with concern. “I’m sorry I gave you such a rough time earlier, but I’m worried about you. Are you really okay?”
“Okay?” Liza said, a hysterical note in her voice that Molly had never heard before from a woman who climbed mountains and trekked through rain forests without a qualm. “Of course I’m not okay. I might have hated Tessa but I didn’t want to see her murdered and I especially didn’t want her to die in the middle of a party that meant a lot to all these environmental projects she championed. Do you know what it’ll be like to get someone to chair the next event after this?”
“That reminds me,” Molly said, hoping to put things into perspective for Liza. The evening might have turned bleak, but the future held brighter potential. “You obviously made quite an impression on Jason Jeffries. He said he would underwrite the next fund-raiser, if you’ll chair it. He suggested next winter, when Miami is packed with wealthy snowbirds. He doesn’t seem worried that you’ll have any problem surpassing the success of this event.”
“What success?” Liza moaned. “Our profits are probably nil. The guests are all being detained as murder suspects. My best friend thinks I could be a killer. And the caterer will probably sue because his antique silver candlestick is missing. Neville charges for every damned napkin. God knows what price tag he’ll put on that candlestick.”
“Liza, I do not think you’re a killer,” Molly said indignantly, though she had to admit she could see where Liza might have gotten that idea.
“You may not want to think that, but you’ve definitely considered the possibility. You’ve gone into that same mother-hen mode you adopt when your son has done something wrong, but you’re determined to present the best possible side of things to anyone who might attack him for it.”
“I know you did not kill Tessa Lafferty,” Molly said with more conviction. “But I do think that you’re high on the list of suspects, especially if you refuse to explain where you disappeared to in the middle of the party. Let me help.”
“I’m not worried for myself, dammit. I’m worried about what will happen to the environmental coalition I worked so damned hard to form. Now everyone will want to go back to their own narrow interests and that’s no way to impact legislation.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that. Not really,” Molly insisted. Michael’s earlier assessment had come to the same conclusion. At the time she had vehemently disagreed, but now she could see how all the attention could be turned into a public relations coup if it were managed properly. “This party will be the talk of the town tomorrow,” she promised.
Liza regarded her with a wry expression. “You’re certainly right about that, but it won’t be the sort of talk likely to advance our cause. If the killer’s goal was to divide us all, he couldn’t have picked a better way to do it. No one will want to be affiliated with a coalition when its board members are being killed off.”
“Not necessarily. Why don’t we find Caroline Viera and get some advice on how to handle this with the press? We’ll need a plan if we run into any stray reporters on the way out.”
They found a stoic, somber Caroline Viera at her husband’s side. Normally charming and outgoing, Hernando looked wan and troubled, either because he feared his affair with Tessa was about to become public knowledge or because he’d been the one who’d clobbered her. Molly gazed into his bleak eyes and reassessed the possibilities. Perhaps it wasn’t remorse or guilt that had turned his olive complexion pasty, but sorrow. It was entirely possible that he had truly cared for Tessa more deeply than his usual quick conquests.
Since it was hardly fitting to console the bereaved married lover of the also married dead woman, especially with his wife present, Molly was at a loss. She gratefully turned her full attention to Caroline. “Could we speak to you a minute? We need your advice on something.”
“Now?” Caroline asked, casting a worried look at her husband.
“Yes,” Liza said, linking her arm through the woman’s and drawing her away. “You’re the public relations expert. How should we handle the media? Can we salvage anything from tonight’s disaster?”
There was a spark of interest in Caroline’s eyes as she considered the challenge. “Here’s what I’d do,” she said after several thoughtful moments. “I’d tell the media that Tessa’s death has put the fate of all of these environmental causes in jeopardy. As tragic as her death is, we cannot allow it to signal the end to her commitment.”
Molly could practically hear the closing quotation marks at the end of the statement. Caroline paused.
“One other thing,” she said finally. “Try to get to Roger. See if you can convince him that in lieu of flowers a memorial fund be established for these causes in Tessa’s honor. I suspect donations will pour in, out of guilt if not out of respect.”
Liza looked a bit more hopeful. “Caroline, you’re a genius.”
“I’ll bill you accordingly,” she said with a faint smile that warmed her cool, classic elegance. “Liza, you’re the one who ought to take over the reins of this now. I know you prefer to work behind the scenes, but you’re good with people and you genuinely care. You wouldn’t be in it for the glory.”
“I’ve been trying to convince her of the same thing. She has Jason Jeffries’s backing, too,” Molly said.
“Good for you. He might be an old curmudgeon, but he’s well connected. If you have his blessing, you can set this town on its ear. I’ll do anything I can to help,” Caroline said with obvious sincerity. “I don’t say that lightly either. When I commit to a project, I follow through.”
Liza’s worried expression had slowly begun to brighten. “Thank you. I’ll think about it. And thanks for the advice about the media,” she said just as Michael joined them.
He pulled Molly aside. “We can get out of here. Are you two ready?”
She glanced at Liza, who was looking more exhausted and frazzled than she ever had in all the time Molly had known her. Crusades usually charged her batteries. Until the last few minutes the prospect of this one had seemed merely to drain her. Right now she was beginning to look wilted and forlorn again.
“Liza, are you ready to go?” Molly asked gently.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” she said.
“Just remember Caroline’s advice and we’ll have it made.”
The three of them slipped through the doors onto the south lawn, then set out along the access road that was currently occupied by the caterer’s truck and several police
cars. The narrow road wound through the dense cover of banyan trees and other tropical foliage before emerging in the parking lot.
Molly was just about to celebrate their clean escape when she spotted Ted Ryan, the earnest, wily reporter from the morning paper, perched atop the hood of her convertible. Despite the formal nature of tonight’s party, he was dressed as usual in faded jeans, a rumpled short-sleeved shirt, and boat shoes. No socks. Either it was his usual attire or Molly had only run into him when he’d been dragged out of bed late at night to cover a breaking story.
“I knew you’d be along sooner or later,” he said cheerfully. “Hi, Molly. Hey, O’Hara. What’s happening inside? My butt was getting damp from sitting alongside that fountain at the end of the walkway. They wouldn’t even bring us any hors d’oeuvres out there, much less any information. I’ve got an hour until deadline. I’m a desperate man.”
“So what else is new?” Molly said dryly.
“If you want a statement, you’ll have to talk to the police, Ryan,” Michael said.
“No, wait,” Liza interrupted. “I’ll make a statement on behalf of the committee.” She proceeded to deliver Caroline’s suggested comments verbatim, earning Molly’s admiration and a startled look from Michael.
Ted Ryan didn’t look nearly as impressed. “So what?” he said bluntly. “I need suspects. I need details. What did the body look like when it was discovered? My photographer’s out there in a boat right now, trying to get close enough to the scene of the crime to get pictures. They’ve already carted the Lafferty broad away by now, haven’t they?”
His evident disappointment grated on Molly’s nerves. “Your interest in the gory details shouldn’t surprise me,” Molly said. “That is what you get off on, isn’t it?”
“Hey, come on,” he said, clearly hurt by her assessment. “I’m just trying to do a job here. You’re the best sources I’ve got.”
“In that case, you are in serious trouble, my friend,” Michael informed him. “We’re not feeling very talkative.”
“Molly?” Ted pleaded.
“Sorry. I can’t tell you any more than I have already,” she said, grateful that he wasn’t aware that she had actually discovered the body. If he knew that, he’d never let her alone and she was in no mood to recall the sensation of brushing up against Tessa’s submerged form.
“You’ve told me precisely nothing,” he said glumly. Then his expression brightened. “How about we trade information?”
Michael shook his head. “As innocent bystanders we don’t need your information.”
“Not even the fact that the Laffertys were headed for an ugly divorce?”
“That’s gossip,” Michael said, his expression blank. If the announcement had stirred his interest, he’d determined to keep it hidden.
Molly was less inclined to dismiss the news so readily. “Who’s your source?” she asked.
“Can’t reveal it,” Ted said smugly.
“How nice,” Michael commented dryly. “A reporter with ethics.” He opened the car door for Molly and Liza. When they didn’t climb in, he shrugged and walked around to the driver’s side and got in himself. Just to emphasize his impatience, he started the engine.
Molly scowled at him and tried to figure out how she could wheedle more information out of Ted Ryan, while giving nothing away herself. If Tessa and Roger had been about to split up, that could have a definite bearing on the case. Since Roger was reportedly wildly in love with Tessa, it must have been her decision to walk away from the marriage.
“Who was filing for the divorce?” she asked.
“The old man.”
“Roger?” Liza said, her astonished tone matching Molly’s reaction. “Why? I’d always heard he was nuts about her.”
“He was until he found her in bed with one of his best friends.”
“Hernando Viera,” Molly guessed.
“Who?” the reporter said blankly. “That’s not the name I was given.”
“Who then?”
“Dupree. You know him?”
“Clark Dupree, one of the city’s most prominent development attorneys,” Molly said, barely hiding her astonishment. Aside from being Roger Lafferty’s best friend, he was also Patrice MacDonald’s regular escort. That could certainly explain why she’d cut Tessa dead in that Bal Harbour boutique. It might also explain why she might want to murder her.
CHAPTER
SIX
Clark Dupree and Tessa Lafferty. Now there truly was a picture, Molly thought, exchanging a startled glance with Liza. The dapper, slick, courtroom savior of more than one major South Florida development and the woman who professed to be dedicated to saving the environment from the encroachment of just such developers.
Admittedly Tessa was no Marjorie Stoneman Douglas, the well-known, feisty environmentalist, who had been an outspoken proponent of preserving the Everglades well past her hundredth birthday. But Tessa had been widely regarded as antidevelopment. Obviously her ethics, such as they were, had never carried over into her bedroom, something that probably should have been clear from the first indication that she had affairs the way some women changed hairstyles.
“No comment?” Ted prodded, obviously pleased that his revelation had rendered them speechless.
“What’s to say?” Molly said discreetly. “Do you think that has some bearing on the case?”
“Roger Lafferty was here tonight, right?” the reporter said. “With his wife?”
“Yes. What’s your point?” she responded, being deliberately blank in the hope that Ted Ryan would spill more valuable information.
“So was Clark Dupree.”
“With Patrice MacDonald,” Liza reminded them.
“If you ask me, that raises all sorts of possibilities,” the reporter said. Then, as if he were expounding on a Ph.D. dissertation thesis, he added, “Jealousy always tops the list of motives in cases like this. We’ve got triangles all over the place.”
“Then I suggest you share your insights about the geometric arrangement of the suspects with the investigating officers,” Michael said stiffly. He glared at Molly and Liza. “Are you two coming or not?”
“We’re coming,” Molly said, defeated. Michael wasn’t about to let them trek back inside for more sleuthing. They might as well go on home and compare notes. Maybe one of them had noticed something that would yield a clue when added to what the others had seen.
Ted Ryan sidled closer to Molly and edged her away from the car. “I’ll call you later, okay?” he said in an undertone not meant to be overheard.
Something in his voice set off warning bells inside her. “What for?”
“So we can talk without the cop listening to every little word.” He gave her a conspiratorial little smile that she belatedly realized was meant to make her heart flip over. Instead her stomach turned. Surely he wasn’t flirting with her.
“Mr. Ryan …”
“Ted.”
“Mr. Ryan, I really don’t have anything more to say,” Molly said dutifully.
It was one thing to snoop around herself. It was quite another to share her observations with the media. Michael had been right about that much at least. That really would be asking for trouble with her boss and her ex-husband. The fewer times her name was mentioned by the media, the better they both liked it. It had appeared all too often in recent months and usually in connection with messy murder cases just like this one. It was past time for her to start maintaining a very low profile. Vince had already been pressed to fire her, twice in fact. He’d held out so far, but she couldn’t count on that happening again.
Engaging in some fast talking, she did her best to discourage Ted Ryan from calling. Unfortunately, judging from his expression and his persistent nature, it was unlikely to do any good.
“What time is he calling?” Michael inquired when they were finally on their way home.
“Who?”
“The young stud.”
Molly regarded him in astonishment. “Ted
Ryan? A stud?”
“The man has the hots for you.”
She laughed aloud at the mere idea of that, then wondered if that hadn’t explained the way he’d made her feel, that hint of flirtatiousness she’d caught in his voice. “Please,” she protested, though not as vehemently as she might have moments earlier. “He’s barely into his twenties.”
“And you aren’t out of your twenties. I’m telling you he’s got a thing for you. I could see that last time we bumped into him during the Miami Beach investigation.”
“The only thing Ted Ryan has the hots for is a good story. He’s very ambitious and he figures I might know something that will enhance his position at the paper.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt he’s after your mind, but believe me, he hasn’t missed an opportunity to survey your body as well. Thoroughly, I might add.” His scowl grew more ferocious. “Top to bottom. And back again.”
“I get the picture,” Molly mumbled.
“You sound miffed, Detective,” Liza observed from the backseat. She sounded downright delighted by it, too.
Molly regarded the pair of them as if they’d both gone around the bend. The possibility that Michael O’Hara might be jealous was almost as ludicrous as the thought of Ted Ryan being genuinely infatuated with her.
She was so caught up in that particular scenario, she completely missed the opportunity to spend a couple of hours comparing notes with Liza and Michael. He parked her car, walked them to the doors of their neighboring apartments, then departed with barely a good night, still clearly disgruntled by the whole episode with Ted Ryan. Molly stood staring after him in astonishment.
Liza slipped inside her own condo, muttered something about exhaustion, and shut the door. Molly was left standing in the hall, wide awake, with not a single soul to talk to.
“It would serve you both right if I did call Ted Ryan,” she grumbled as she slammed her door behind her.
• • •
“Brian, why don’t we go to Vizcaya today,” Molly suggested the next morning the minute her son walked in the door after his overnight visit with his friend Kevin. She winced at his choice of attire, a clashing combination of red and hot pink with some turquoise thrown in. She probably should have been grateful that his socks at least matched. Hell, she thought, she ought to be thankful he’d even remembered socks. She wondered if she dared to hope that he’d taken his toothbrush.
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