3 Panthers Play for Keeps

by Clea Simon

  “Was she…?” I swallowed hard. “Was she some kind of bait?” The idea that that beautiful young woman might have been exploited in such a way made her death even more obscene.

  Benazi scowled, and I kept on. “They use cats, you know. Kittens, sometimes, in dog fights.” I was spitting out the words. They were all I had to hit him with. “They throw them in with the dogs to stoke the killing instinct. To wake the taste for blood.”

  I saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. I knew he had a soft spot for women. For cats, too. Good, let him stew on it.

  “She wasn’t—” His voice croaked, as if he hadn’t spoken in weeks rather than a few minutes. “That was an accident.”

  “And Laurel?” I was too angry to stop. “Was her death an accident, too?”

  His mouth was set in a thin, grim line again. I didn’t care.

  “I would have thought you had more finesse.” I chose my words with care. “More style. Not about murder, but in the cover-up. Trying to make that look like another ‘hunting accident’? Sloppy.”

  When that didn’t get a response, I gave up. By the time we’d arrived back in town, I was thinking of where else I could go for answers. Even as Benazi slowed, I was reaching for the handle.

  “Pru, please…” His fingers grazed the back of my hand. I fought the urge to slap it away. “I want you to be safe.”

  I looked over at his sad and tired face. For a moment, my anger flickered and dimmed. It’s hard to live outside the lines. Then I thought of Laurel, of Mariela, and it came roaring back. “I’ll be fine.” I opened the door.

  “Be careful.” His voice was soft but audible. “She’s not what you think. She’s dangerous, Pru.”

  I nodded, eager to be away. Not until he left, the Maserati growling like a cat, did I realize he’d driven me down the side street to my car, where I’d thought I’d left it unobserved over an hour before.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Wallis was having none of it, and she wasn’t holding back.

  “Are you insane?” She’d jumped up on the windowsill to be at eye level with me, and her twitching tail kept banging against the wall. “Going up against something that…something that large?”

  “I’m not ‘going up’ against a leopard, Wallis.” I’d raced home to gather some supplies as well as, finally, get something to eat. If I’d been hoping for support, I’d have to look elsewhere. “I want to initiate a humane search. That’s all.”

  “Humane.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. I didn’t think it was at my intent so much as the word. Wallis has a dim view of anything human. Even me, she barely considers functional most of the time. “Huh.”

  “You know what I mean, Wallis. It’s not used to being out there, alone. You’re the one who showed me that.” I turned away from her and found myself staring at my phone. I should call Creighton. I knew that. I should have called him the moment I’d made the date with Benazi. When he’d shown up early. Creighton would be angry, but this was more important than our relationship. I had information that directly related to two murders.

  I would call him, I promised myself. The only problem was how to explain away the evidence I shouldn’t have had. I pulled the letter from my jacket. A receipt for the value of a car. The Haigens’ Benz.

  “Don’t trust her,” Benazi had said. “She’s dangerous.”

  In retrospect, it made perfect sense. I’d suspected Dierdre Haigen from the start. The jealous wife, consolidating control during a husband’s decline. The only questions remaining were about how she had managed it, but I thought the donation letter was probably key.

  As I assembled a hasty sandwich, ignoring Wallis’ glare, I tried to put it all together.

  Creighton, I knew, was no slouch. I’d seen the techs at Laurel’s. I had no doubt he’d had a team over at the Haigens, too, once he knew for sure that Mariela’s body had been moved. They’d have been looking for a crime scene—for traces of her blood. He’d have checked Dierdre’s little sports car, but the SUV would have been already gone. At the dealers, Richard had said. But not sold. No matter what someone had told Tracy Horlick.

  I had wondered about that, as I’d slopped mayo on the stale bread. Had wondered, as I tore up the rest of the chicken…Why lie? Why not say that the big Benz was a white elephant: more valuable as a tax write-off than an asset?

  Now, I thought I had the answer: Someone had used it to transport Mariela’s body, that’s why. And then someone had to get rid of it, fast. Could Dierdre Haigen have engineered that?

  “Oh, please, Pru.” Wallis was losing patience. I couldn’t. I had to consider all the options.

  “I don’t think she acted alone.” I bit into my sandwich, more concerned with refueling than taste. “She could have signed the car away. Maybe even dragged Mariela into it. But how would she have picked the car up out in Amherst, or wherever it was? How would she have carried Mariela into the woods? No, she’s in this somehow, but not alone.”

  Wallis blinked once, slowly. Coquettishly. “Some kinds of women are not made to be alone.”

  I started, hearing my own words repeated back to me, and it hit me. Nick. Nick Draper. Richard’s right-hand man had teamed up with his wife to kill Richard’s mistress and poor Laurel Kroft, who may just have come asking the right questions at the wrong time.

  It was time to take my lumps: I dialed Creighton’s number.

  “Jim? It’s me.” I didn’t know whether getting voice mail was a good thing. I did know it made my role easier. “We need to talk. I saw Benazi. He—he surprised me. I’m going over to the Haigens, Jim. I think I know what happened to Laurel and Mariela.”

  Chapter Forty-seven

  I gave Creighton a good ten minutes, but when my phone didn’t ring, I was done with waiting. It hadn’t been totally lost time. I’d packed a flashlight and my warm fleece, in case I needed to do some snooping outdoors. My black raincoat would be useful if the rain started up again and would give me some cover if I did have to poke around. Finally, I’d checked that my knife was still sitting, secure, in my back pocket. I always carry it, but a girl likes to be sure.

  As I drove over to the Haigens, I tried to formulate some kind of a plan. I didn’t need an excuse to be there. Dierdre herself had basically invited me. It was evening. Time to walk the dog. That fire would have taken care of the outbuilding where the leopard had been caged, but some evidence might have survived. A sign of the big cat—or of either woman. That was lower priority, though. Creighton would soon be on the rest of the estate, now that he knew what to look for. No, what I wanted to do was confront Dierdre Haigen.

  ***

  The drive out to the Haigens seemed longer in the dark. The rain had started up again, making the road slick, and the cloud cover kept any moonlight under wraps. Driving past the preservation land, I was aware of that darkness. The trees, still leafless and skeletal. And in there, somewhere, a bringer of death. As lost and alone as any poor soul, doomed to roam the night.

  I wasn’t in the best of spirits by the time I reached the house. The tang of wood smoke, barely perceptible, didn’t help. I don’t like people who hide things, and I like even less being played for a fool. Still, I tried to calm down as I climbed the front steps. Better to have the advantage of surprise.

  That moment spent working my grimace into something like a smile paid off. From the front stoop, I could hear raised voices. A man and a woman arguing. This was going to be interesting.

  “I can’t believe you’d do that.” The man. It could have been Richard. Then again, I’d already cast him as the injured party. “I loved her.”

  Richard, for sure.

  “You’re not listening!” Dierdre, it had to be. But as I leaned forward to hear more, I heard another voice. A bark. “No! No! You’ve got it wrong!”

  “What’s that?” Richard again. “Is someone out there?”


  Poor honest Spot must have been trying to stop the fight from getting physical. In the meantime, he’d blown my cover. I rang the bell.

  “Pru.” Her cheeks flushed, Dierdre looked years younger. Fighting brought out the best in her.

  “I came to walk the dog?” I looked in, as if to see Spot. What I saw was Richard, with a face like thunder. “Mr. Haigen?”

  “Bah!” he said, and turned to storm off. Only a slight stumble on the edge of a rug ruined his exit. But although Spot had jumped up to stand at his side, the angry man ignored him, reaching instead to feel his way along the wall as he disappeared down the hall.

  “I’m sorry.” Dierdre saw me watching him. It was hard not to. “Things have been difficult lately. It’s hard for him to accept some of the changes.”

  Now it was my turn to look surprised. “Changes” was quite a cavalier euphemism for killing, even for Wallis. “I can imagine,” I managed to say. “Would you like to take some air with us?”

  If Dierdre thought she was getting away from a scene, she had another thought coming. I waited while she donned a jacket, and let her set our path toward the road. The smell of the fire was much fainter now and faded as we walked away from the house. Still, it served as my cue.

  “Interesting thing about fires,” I said, as Spot sniffed a tree trunk where a raccoon was nesting. “You’d think they destroy all the evidence. But they don’t.”

  We were too far from the house for the porch lights to reach us, but this close I could see her respond.

  “Excuse me?” She was straining to keep her voice level, her smile in place.

  “The evidence,” I repeated, as I laid it out. “You killed Mariela. Your rival.” I watched as her smile faded, then I delivered my kicker. “To throw her in with a leopard, though. That’s cold. I bet that really taught Richard a lesson.”

  “It was an accident.” Dierdre’s eyes were wide with shock. “I never meant for her to…”

  “To what? To wander into the leopard cage?” I was furious. Fed up with her assumed helplessness. “Was she one of Richard’s pretty toys? His newest diversion?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. Richard always…” She colored and turned away. Turned toward Spot, who was watching us both, a low whine rising in the back of his throat. “I knew what he was like when I married him.”

  “He was going to trade you in for a newer model.” It was cruel. I didn’t care. I thought about Laurel, about Creighton. I hadn’t killed anyone. She had.

  I had to hand it to her. She faked confusion very well, looking up so fast she startled Spot. “No, it wasn’t what you think. Mariela wasn’t supposed to be there.…” Her voice was shrill, but not hysterical. I looked at her.

  “But she was. And she saw. You had someone on the side, too.” It all made sense. “Richard’s friend, Nick.”

  She gulped. I had her. She opened her mouth to speak, but when no words came out, I supplied them.

  “Richard could have his dalliances, but I bet he wouldn’t want you to,” I said. Spot’s whine was getting louder. In a confrontation like this, he wouldn’t know whom to protect. “Not when he’d already paid for you.”

  It was cruel. I didn’t care.

  “Maybe that’s what happened.” I went on. “Maybe she was the one who really loved Richard. Maybe she caught you with your lover and that’s when you pushed her in.”

  “Lover? I don’t—” She was pulling herself together, and I felt Spot shift to her side. “I’ve been faithful to Richard since the day we met.”

  “Stow it.” I could admire Spot. He was protecting the weaker of the two of us from the aggressor. But I really had no time for this. “Infidelity is the least of your sins.”

  “But I wasn’t…” She grabbed my arm. “I love him. I was trying to save him.”

  What happened next, happened fast. She’d reached for me, but I was expecting that. I stepped back pulling my arm away in a move that was part reflex, part calculated, as I went for my knife. Only in the dark, it didn’t work. I tripped and stumbled. Spot ran to my side barking. “No! No!” And Dierdre? The woman I’d thought a killer? She didn’t follow up on her advantage. Instead, she stood there, her hands over her mouth and tears springing from her eyes.

  “No! No!” This time, I felt that Spot was talking to me.

  “Quiet.” I picked myself off the wet leaves. “Heel.”

  Spot looked up, concerned, but I didn’t have time. “No?” I asked silently, just to be sure. He wagged his tail, and I looked at the woman, now openly crying in front of me.

  “Maybe I got it wrong, Dierdre.” I didn’t know what was going on, but I trusted Spot. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  I had to wait while she had her sob. When she did start to talk, it didn’t make sense.

  “We’ve been…Richard’s money, it’s all gone.” Her voice had sunk to a whisper. “All the treatments. All the so-called miracle cures. That’s why he let everyone go.”

  I’d thought the lack of staff meant something. Still, I wasn’t buying it. “And I’m sure your upkeep was all done on a budget.”

  She colored, the flush showing through her makeup. “I didn’t know, not at first. And Richard, well, he insisted on having me look a certain way. It wasn’t until I took over the books that I saw how far in debt we were. How far we are. That’s when I knew I had to raise some funds. I had to sell some of his treasures.”

  Benazi the dealer. The middle man. “You were selling the leopard, weren’t you? Did you get him from Benazi? Was he not willing to take it back?”

  “It wasn’t that. Mr. Benazi was trying to broker something. He was trying to set up an arrangement. But Nick didn’t want to pay his fees, pay for the animal to be boarded when it was just going to be killed.”

  Nick. I’d known he was involved. “So, what, Nick arranged a private sale to a canned hunt?”

  Without a word, she nodded. Her face a mask of horror. “It was supposed to be drugged, supposed to be delivered all doped up. He got our gardener to help him—Raul, Mariela’s brother. Raul was supposed to help get it out of the barn. They had a cage they were going to load into the SUV. Only the drugs hadn’t worked. Not yet. And the animal was—it was still fighting. Screaming. Nick had Raul poking at it, trying to get it into the cage. Pushing it with a rake, of all things. Mariela must have heard it. She was on her way out for the evening, and she must have heard it—it sounded like it was crying. She started yelling at her brother. Yelling at Nick that he had to stop. That he had to stop hurting it. That she was going to call Richard, call the police. And Nick—Nick grabbed her. He shoved her. It all happened so fast.”

  Dierdre fell silent, the tears starting again. It didn’t matter. I didn’t need the details. I’d seen them for myself. Nick didn’t know how to drug an animal. The cat had been panicked. The woman, simply in the way.

  After a moment, Dierdre wiped her eyes. I found my voice had grown gentle. “And after?”

  “Nick said…he said we had to make it look like an accident. That we were responsible. That she was dead anyway.” She put her hand up to her mouth. Maybe her own words made her sick. They should have. “The leopard was out cold by then, and so he had Raul load it into the SUV. With…with Mariela. After—after, he said he’d swear that the car was on his lot. He said he could do that much for us.”

  I nodded. The last pieces were falling into place. “Did Laurel figure it out?”

  “I wasn’t here when she—when she came over that last time. I needed to get out. Richard has been increasingly distressed. He’s—he missed her.” She bit her lip, but I didn’t interrupt. I no longer thought she’d been jealous of any attention her husband had given the pretty maid. Relieved, more likely. “Laurel must have gone directly to the back. When I got home, the building—the one where Richard kept the panther—was on fire. I don’t think he knew she was there.�
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  “Nick was trying to destroy any evidence.” I filled in the blanks. “He knew Richard’s clout could only hold off Creighton’s lab techs for so long. But Laurel didn’t need a warrant. She saw the cage. She figured it out—figured out enough anyway.”

  Now it was Dierdre’s turn to nod. “I think so. I think she made Nick mad.”

  Dierdre was shivering by then, exhausted by her confession. I was feeling the cold, too. So with Spot leading the way, we headed back to the house in silence. It had been a lot to digest. I still didn’t understand why Richard Haigen had the animal. Denial, I told myself, as we made our way up the walk. The macular degeneration had come on more quickly than he’d thought. He must have planned a last adventure—a hunt was never going to happen.

  “Halt!” I nearly fell over Spot, who had stepped in front of me. “No.” He was using my commands back on me, I realized. Seeing as how I’d already tripped once in the dark, I could only assume that he was being careful, that the training was working. Dierdre, a few steps ahead, turned back toward me, waiting, a slight conciliatory smile playing on her lips. How often, recently, must she have taken that pose with her husband? She must love him, to put up with his bullying. And more. “He missed her,” indeed.

  Sometimes, I’m slow on the uptake. More often than not, Wallis would say. This time, she’d be right. “It’s okay,” I urged Spot. “I can think and walk,” I tried to let him know. Finally.

  Dierdre hadn’t been talking about Mariela, I realized as we climbed the stairs, Spot watching my every move. Mariela had never been Richard’s focus. He liked toys. Pretty toys. Not women, not even fancy guns. That’s why Richard had the snow leopard. Not as a trophy. Not to hunt. But as a “treasure”—one of the “pretty things” he collected.