Sleuthing Women

by Lois Winston

  “I didn’t spot that.”

  My cell phone rang and I glanced at the read-out. My reporter pal, Nick Harrison.

  “What’s up?” I said, punching the talk button.

  “Just checking in.” I could hear a low buzz of conversation under him and I knew he was calling from the Gazette. I guessed they had probably just put the paper to bed and Nick was tying up some loose ends before heading out for dinner.

  “Any good news?” After our meeting with Ray Hicks, I was ready to hear some.

  “I did a little more background checking and I came up with an R. Hicks who signed the register at the Seabreeze. The car license plate number he gave doesn’t check out. There’s something suspicious about him.”

  R. Hicks. Ray Hicks.

  “Ray Hicks was at the Seabreeze?” My hand jolted involuntarily and I splashed coffee on the white linen cloth. I glanced across the table and Mom flashed me an “I-told-you-so” look. “What night?”

  “R. Hicks was there the night Sanjay died. Or went to his celestial resting place,” Nick added with a low laugh. “It’s either Ray or a heck of a big coincidence.” I could picture Nick holding up his hand, palm out. “And don’t remind me that Freud said there are no coincidences. What’s your take on it?”

  “I just talked to Ray Hicks.” My mind was racing. Had Ray Hicks been lying to me the whole time? This changed everything and I wished I could re-wind the tape in my head and play the whole trailer park scene again.

  “You’re kidding. What did he say?”

  “He admitted that he got screwed over in a business deal with Sanjay. He told me a complicated story about a real estate buy and eminent domain. It was pretty much the way you described it to me.”

  Nick grunted. “He got screwed over all right. I’d say to the tune of a million bucks.”

  “Close enough. I listened to his rant and then I told him Sanjay had, um, departed.”

  “What was his reaction to the news?”

  “He was certainly glad to hear he was dead.” I glanced at Mom across the table and she was watching me with a laser beam intensity. She nodded her head up and down emphatically.

  “I bet he was.” Nick gave a mirthless laugh.

  “But he insisted he had nothing to do with it, and that he’d never attended the conference. In fact, he even said he’d never been in Cypress Grove.”

  “Where did you talk to him?”

  “At his home in some awful mobile home park. He actually invited us inside.” I shuddered, remembering the dismal trailer with its smell of decaying cheese and onions.

  “Was there a car parked out front?”

  I nodded. “A beat up Ford Toyota pickup truck. Black.”

  “Did you happen to get the license number?” My heart sank like a stone. “I didn’t think of it.” So much for my investigative skills.

  “That’s okay. I can get someone to run a background check. And it might be worthwhile to see if we can find anyone else who got involved in the real estate scam.” I could hear Nick tapping away at his computer.

  “Miriam Dobosh almost did.” I suddenly remembered Mom’s conversation with her. “She said she wanted to, but she didn’t have the cash available. Sanjay acted like it was the deal of a lifetime.”

  “Interesting. So he wouldn’t hesitate to cheat one of his own employees.”

  “And Miriam wasn’t just an employee. She practically ran the whole show.” But maybe he wasn’t planning on cheating her, I thought. Maybe he was going to offer her a cut of his ill-gotten gains. It might be good to chat with her again and see if she was willing to talk about Sanjay. She’d looked shattered at his memorial service, I remembered. But was it real grief, or was she just upset at being out of work?

  “The part about Ray being at the Seabreeze is sort of a stretch, you know.” Nick had stopped typing and his voice broke into my musings. “I can’t imagine him being the sort of guy who’s into New Age conferences.”

  I tried to picture Ray Hicks walking into the Seabreeze in his filthy jeans. Wouldn’t anyone have noticed? He hardly looked like one of Sanjay’s well heeled, if misguided, followers. He would have stood out like the proverbial sore thumb.

  Mom scribbled a note on a paper napkin and passed it to me. “Did this R. Hicks use a credit card to pay for the room?” I relayed the question to Nick and gave her a thumbs-up sign. Good question. Ray Hicks had told us he’d cut up his credit cards.

  “He paid cash. Hardly anyone uses cash and that’s why we missed it. The writing on the register is barely legible. It’s practically a scrawl, like he used his left hand or deliberately was trying to conceal his name. The night clerk asked him for identification but he said he’d left his driver’s license at a gas station a hundred miles back. So they took the cash and told him to write down his license plate number. No one checked, so he could have written down anything he wanted.”

  Something nagged at me. “Why would he sign the register with his real name if he didn’t want to be discovered?”

  Nick, who’d covered the crime beat for years, had an answer. “Sometimes criminals, especially the dumb ones, write their real name without thinking. If he’d been a little quicker on the uptake, he would have signed with an alias.” There was a beat while he spoke to the assignment editor. “Did he seem smart to you?”

  “I don’t think he was the sharpest knife in the drawer. I’d say he was cunning rather than smart. Sort of a sly type.”

  There was silence on the line for a moment while I tried to think of my next move. I had to admit it, I was stumped. “Shall we go back to the trailer park?” I could see Mom wincing at the suggestion.

  “Not yet,” Nick said. “There’s no sense it showing your hand. You can always do a follow-up visit when we have more information.”

  “What’s going on in Cypress Grove? Anything new with the cops?”

  Cops. I could feel my face flushing a little at the thought of Rafe Martino.

  “They’re keeping very quiet. I may pay them a visit tomorrow just to see if they throw me a bone. As far as I know, Lark is still the number one suspect.” He drew in a breath and I knew there was more.

  And then it came.

  “I hate to be the one to tell you this, Maggie, but the D.A. is thinking of convening a grand jury next week. They’re going to put everything they have on the line and see if there’s enough to indict her for Sanjay’s murder.”

  “Indict her? That’s ridiculous.”

  “They have motive, means and opportunity. She was obsessed with him, he tried to attack her and she killed him.”

  “All they have is circumstantial evidence.”

  “People have gone to jail on less,” Nick reminded me.

  The sad thing is, I knew he was right. People have gone to the death chamber for less. Nick promised to stay in touch and I told him I’d touch base in a day or two when I’d followed up some more leads. It was a disappointing end to an unsettling conversation.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Hearing the news about Lark cast a sudden pall over the beautiful day.

  Mom, as usual, had the best take on the situation. “They’re thinking of indicting Lark?” She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. There’s only one thing to do, Maggie. We just have to redouble our efforts,” she said firmly. “What else did you find out?”

  I filled her in on the mysterious R. Hicks who had signed the guest register at the Seabreeze and she thought for a moment. “He could have been there, but why didn’t anyone see him? Surely someone would have noticed. He’s not the sort of man you can overlook, is he?” She gave a delicate shudder. “We can always talk to him again, but I think we should have a plan this time.”

  “We need an excuse to get back into the trailer,” I said. But what? My mind had stalled.

  Sleuthing was far more difficult that I’d realized. How come those TV cops always manage to wind everything up in a neat hour-long package? Actually, i
t’s only forty-four minutes, if you subtract the commercials. A nice line-up of suspects, some clever detective work and bingo, problem solved, suspect neatly placed in handcuffs and whisked away. If only real life could be so simple.

  “Oh, there’s a camera crew!” Mom said, immediately arranging her features in a practiced smile. She crossed her legs and tilted her chin up a tad, a trick she said she’d learned from Zsa Zsa Gabor. An instant way to tighten a sagging chin line before facing the cameras. “I think it’s ET or Access Hollywood,” she whispered excitedly. “Wonder what that’s all about?”

  “I heard they’re shooting a new reality show here. Something about the beautiful young people of South Beach. I saw a promo for it earlier on The Today Show. They’re probably in town to interview some of the stars.”

  “Not another reality show,” Mom groaned. “Why does everyone in the cast look like they’re under seventeen?”

  “Probably because they are.” I bit back a sigh. Nothing like a teen reality show to make a girl feel ancient at thirty-two.

  We spotted a Lindsay Lohan look-alike, poured into a pair of skin-tight Cavalli jeans and Pokemon baby T, doing a stand-up interview with Maria Menounos. A group of middle aged tourists stood gawking nearby, looking like refuges from a Parrothead tour with their matching Margaritaville shirts. They were elbowing each other, holding up camera cell phones, trying to get a clear shot of the attractive entertainment reporter.

  South Beach is the place to see and be seen, and it’s not unusual to come across a camera crew setting up to shoot in the historic district. It’s a cosmopolitan venue, with an interesting mix of cultures and styles. And the trendy Art Deco hotels with their signature pastel colors, are known all over the world. At night their dazzling neon facades attract a young, hip crowd.

  Today they were setting up lights and sound equipment in front of the Colony and the Carlyle. Further down the street, a sound truck double parked in front of the Essex House and a production assistant was gabbing on her cell in front of the Cavalier.

  I was planning our next move when I got a surprise call from Miriam Dobosh. Maybe there was such a thing as karma? How had she gotten my cell phone number? Too late I remembered I’d scribbled it on my business card and pressed it into her hand at the conference. She was all sweetness and light, different from the brusque woman I’d met at the Seabreeze Inn.

  “I was wondering how the investigation was going,” she said smoothly.

  Funny, but she didn’t sound at all broken up over Sanjay’s death. No sign of desperation or anger, either. Had she come to terms with the fact that she’d been left jobless and penniless by Sanjay’s sudden demise? Or had she discovered some new source of income that she was keeping a secret?

  “The police are working on it,” I said. A half-truth. They were just going through the motions because as far as they were concerned, they already had the killer. I had no intention of sharing that information with Miriam, though.

  Mom gave me a questioning look and I shrugged.

  I still couldn’t figure out what Miriam’s game was, or what she wanted from me. “I’m sure the case will be resolved soon,” I said carefully. A bland statement if ever there was one. Would the case really be solved?

  You bet. Unless Mom and I did something fast to divert attention away from Lark.

  “I had a nice chat with your mother over at the Seabreeze.” She let the sentence trail off. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond to that, so I said nothing. “Did she tell you I hoped we could all get together for drinks if you ever come down to Miami?”

  Now I was thoroughly confused. “No, she didn’t mention that, Miriam. But I’d love to talk with you anytime.”

  Mom tapped me on the arm. “Miriam?” She mouthed the name at me across the table and I nodded.

  “Actually, Mom and I are in Miami right now. We’re having coffee in South Beach at the News Café.”

  “Perfect!” Miriam gushed. “I came to town to meet with my accountant and we’re just wrapping things up. Meet me at the Delano in twenty minutes and I’ll buy you the best dirty martini in town. It’s just a short walk from where you are.”

  I flipped the phone shut and stared at Mom. “You’re not going to believe this. We’re being summoned to the Delano to meet with Miriam Dobosh.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Really? What does she want?”

  “To buy us the best dirty martini in town.”

  “Make it a chocolate martini and I’m up for it,” Mom said gamely. “Dirty martinis are awful, you know.” She wrinkled her nose. “They put olive juice in them.”

  Olive juice? Blech. “But what does she really want?” Mom persisted.

  “Good question. And I have absolutely no idea.” I quickly paid our bill and we hurried back along Collins Avenue, which was quickly filling up with hungry tourists. Restaurant hostesses, all chic young women, tried to hand us menus as we rushed along the street, but I shook my head and barreled along, lost in thought.

  I wondered how to play the meeting with Miriam. The investigation was taking a strange turn, but I had the feeling this might be my one chance to find out more about Sanjay. Who would know him better than the woman who had run his empire so successfully for all those years?

  Miriam was waiting for us in the lobby and I saw that she had finally ditched her polyester number for a more flattering silk wrap dress in a soft peach shade. It was well cut and I was surprised to realize that she was more toned and muscular than I realized. You would never call her “trim,” but she did have an athletic build that had been disguised by the frumpy navy blue suit.

  “How lovely that we’re both in Miami on the same day,” she said warmly. “I have a table waiting for us in the Florida Room.” She fluttered ahead of us while we ooh-ed and ah-ed over the magnificent lobby. The elegant Florida Room was decorated like an old speakeasy and I couldn’t help but stare at the Lucite piano that dominated the room. The room was attractive, with a Bogey and Bacall feel to it.

  Once we sat down and ordered (Mom and I wisely stuck to Evian and lime), Miriam leaned across the table, her voice oozing sincerity. “I want to help any way I can,” she said, laying her hands on the table. “I’d like to be part of the investigation, if I may.”

  I noticed that her hands were large, and her nails were blunt cut, almost like a man. They looked powerful. Hands that could harm or even kill?

  “You know I’d appreciate any information you can give us, Miriam. Was there something in particular that you recalled about the conference? Or about the guests?”

  “Well,” she said slowly, “I’ve noticed a few things, but I’m not sure how significant they are.” There was something vague about her tone, and I realized that she was on a fishing expedition.

  I thought of mentioning our meeting with Ray Hicks and decided not to. I was a little wary of telling Miriam all our secrets. Why did she want to be in the loop, anyway? Was it because she really wanted Sanjay’s murderer brought to justice?

  Or was it something more sinister? Nick always told me that the best way to deflect attention from yourself as a possible suspect, is to get involved in the investigation itself. Be part of the inner circle, and you have a better chance of knowing what leads they police have, what the evidence is.

  “Go on,” I urged her. “Even the tiniest detail might be helpful.”

  “I saw you talking to Kathryn Sinclair at the transition service.”

  The transition service? I gave myself a mental kick and realized she meant Sanjay’s memorial. “Yes, she told me quite a shocking story.” I locked eyes with Miriam, wondering how much she knew about the incident with Sarah Sinclair. After all, it had happened in California, and as far as I knew, Miriam was primarily involved in east coast operations.

  “It seems shocking at first,” she said smoothly. “But really, Maggie, if you knew a little more about Sarah’s background, you would see the girl was simply a train wreck. An accident waiting to happen. She was despe
rate for attention, you know.”

  “Really?” I tried to sound non-committal.

  Miriam tapped her head. “Sarah had a long history of psychological problems, I’m afraid. Deep-rooted personality problems.” She smiled, her eyes gleaming with an inner light. Her devotion to Sanjay was beginning to seem almost pathological. There was definitely something off about the woman and my antennae were twitching.

  “But surely you screen for those sorts of problems before you let someone participate in the encounter group week-end, don’t you?”

  Touché. Miriam looked flushed and toyed with her margarita glass. It was filled with a flamingo pink liquid and was the size of a fishbowl.

  “Well, yes, we make every effort to, but I’m afraid there’s always a few people who slip under the radar screen. It happens very rarely, and I’m probably to blame. My mother was sick that week, and I was out of the office. I would have vetted her more carefully if I’d been the one reviewing the application.” She paused. “That girl has certainly caused a lot of trouble for all of us. I never want to go through anything like that again.”

  “No, I imagine you don’t,” Mom said sympathetically.

  “She was one sick puppy,” Miriam said, staring morosely into her drink.

  I had the feeling that Miriam would do or say anything to preserve Sanjay’s reputation, and I was baffled. Why the blind loyalty? I could see it as a Lifetime movie, Obsession: the Miriam Dobosh Story.

  And hadn’t Sanjay betrayed her? Wasn’t he going to hand over the reins to Olivia Riggs, the young woman who’d been crying in the ladies’ room that day? Miriam had insisted at the time that Olivia was distraught and delusional. I was beginning to see a pattern here. Anyone who Miriam didn’t like was labeled a head case.

  “That’s not the impression I got from her mother,” I said mildly. There was no sense in antagonizing Miriam if I hoped to squeeze any information out of her. “I pictured Sarah as a sensitive, depressed young woman who probably was too emotionally fragile for an encounter group.”