Condo Crazies: Murder At The Albatross

by Tina Nicholas

  Chapter 80

  Yetta knocked on the door, timidly at first and then more loudly. She heard a sharp bark before the door opened to reveal Judge Phoebe in a dressing gown, one hand gripping a revolver in a deep pocket, the other clutching her faithful Oliver. Shamus’s muscular little body stood between them, a line of fur standing erect from his neck to his tail.

  Yetta looked at the little dog. “Whatsamatta with him? He looks like a porcupine.” Yetta took a step toward the door. Shamus slapped the floor with his front paws and bared his teeth, a deep growl resonating from deep inside his chest.

  “I wouldn’t antagonize him any further,” the judge warned. “Shamus has a short fuse.”

  “Shamus?” Yetta did as bidden and backed up.

  “What do you want, Mrs. Horowitz?”

  “I want to know what’s going on, that’s what. I’ve been calling Valentina. No answer. And I just saw Mrs. Cheney leaving in a taxi with suitcases and her cat in a cage. A realtor came and put a lockbox on her door. She’s selling? Where’s Chester? He usually comes down and plays pinochle with me, but I haven’t seen him since two days ago. I said hello to Kate Parker and she barely talked to me. Something’s not right.”

  “You mean more than usual?” Judge Phoebe asked, with a touch of sarcasm.

  “You must know what’s going on here, Judge.”

  “Is that all you wanted?”

  “All? The whole place is like a morgue and ‘that’s all’ you say?”

  “Yetta, get a life.” The judge closed the door firmly in Yetta’s astonished face.

  “Old crone,” Yetta muttered as she walked on the thick, dark green carpet back to the elevator. “She knows what’s going on and doesn’t tell me? The hell with her.”

  She jabbed at the elevator button. Maybe Chester and Nettie were going away for a vacation. Too many suitcases just for a vacation. And why wasn’t Chester with Nettie? If Chester left, who would she play cards with now? The Albatross was never a fun building. Worse yet, it was summer. All the snowbirds had gone home. It was like a funeral parlor.

  Maybe Valentina Lopez would play cards with her. She wasn’t crazy about Valentina—too Latin for her own good. Why walk around swishing your hips at old men? The one younger person in the building who liked Valentina got himself dead. Porfirio definitely had the hots for Valentina. He followed her around like a puppy dog. Then he was found in his car trunk. Yetta shivered. Who would have done such a thing? And why?

  She hadn’t seen Valentina for a couple of days. Maybe she went down to Miami. She said she had relatives there. As soon as Valentina came back, she’d make lunch for her. Kugel, smoked white fish, fruit salad, and rugelach. Yetta would bet Valentina never had kugel. She’d make it with golden raisins.

  Chapter 81

  “You’re acting jumpy,” Devin observed. “What’s bothering you?” The ice in his glass tinkled as he swished it around. “I didn’t have time for lunch and this drink is getting to me.” He held up the glass and looked at the amber liquid. “What is it? Wait. Let me guess. Long Island Tea?”

  “You got it. Vodka, tequila, rum, gin, triple sec, Coca-Cola, sweet and sour mix.” Kate slid the bacon-wrapped scallops into the oven. “Thought you’d like something different.”

  “Different is good. Drunk is not.” Devin added more ice to his drink. “So what’s happening, Katie?” He looked at her over the rim of his glass as he sipped it.

  “Oh, not a lot.” Kate peered into the oven.

  “You’re a terrible liar, my dear friend.”

  The phone rang. Saved by the bell. “Hello.”

  “Kate, it’s Latasha. Is Devin there?”

  “Yes. Hold on.” She handed the receiver to Devin.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Latasha, Devin. We have a search warrant for Valentina Lopez’s apartment. I called the judge but she’s out to dinner in Fort Lauderdale. She said to call you.”

  “Okay. What’s going on?”

  “Can’t say yet. We need to get in, right away. Can you meet us at her unit with the key but not go in?”

  “Sure. How soon?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “See you there.” Devin put the receiver back in its cradle. “Does this have anything to do with your jumpiness?”

  “What’s this?”

  “Police have a search warrant for Valentina’s apartment. What are they looking for?”

  “Latasha told me not to tell anyone, not even you.” Kate looked at Devin squarely. “You know how I am about breaking my word.”

  “It’s one of your many wonderful qualities.” Devin fumbled around a kitchen drawer. His fingers closed around a ring of keys. “Here they are. Office door key. Office cabinet key. I’m going down to get the master key for Valentina’s unit. Don’t worry, Katie. It’ll all come out sooner or later. I’ll be back for the scallops. See ya.”

  He hurried out of the apartment, only slightly miffed Kate might know more than he did about The Albatross’s doings.

  Chapter 82

  A strong fragrance drifted through the barely opened door. Prescott pushed the door open, started into the foyer and stopped in his tracks, Latasha and Bridey almost bumping into him.

  “That’s it,” Prescott exclaimed. “That’s what I smelled just before the lights went out.”

  “Finally. A real break.” Latasha breathed in the strong fragrance. “Man, it’s so sweet, it’s sickenin’.”

  The trio entered the foyer, leaving two uniformed officers on the landing outside the door. They looked down the long corridor made lively with photographs of scenes from Valentina’s beloved Cuba. Photos of butter yellow villa walls overhung with bright red bougainvillea lined the hallway walls. A few doors opened off the hall. The first was to the kitchen. Sunlight poured into the cheerful room. Large, brightly painted Cuban vases sat on the high shelf above the cupboards. On a nearby bay window seat, large pots with lush clusters of freesia basked in the afternoon sun. The heat intensified the pungent fragrance, filled the kitchen, and spilled out into the hallway.

  Prescott peered at an autographed framed photo on the kitchen wall.

  “Look at Valentina with her arm around Chet Wilson. He was a tennis icon. He married a Cuban singer. She died of an overdose. You believe she knew him?”

  Bridey joined him. “Wasn’t he the guy who was found floating in his pool in Palm Beach about five years ago?” She turned to Prescott. “You think—?”

  “Hunh.” Latasha looked over their shoulders. “I remember that one. They found him drowned but the autopsy showed his throat crushed. Yeah, I think all right. Nice going, Prescott.” She nodded her approval at him. “Let’s see what else.” She led the way back into the hall and looked into a neatly kept guest room.

  Bridey tried the door across from the guest room. It was locked. She looked at the door knob. There was a tiny hole at the base of the knob.

  “Here. Try this.” Prescott fished out a small set of tools from his pocket and handed her a tiny rod resembling a straightened paper clip.

  “Thanks.” Bridey inserted the rod until she heard a click. She straightened up and twisted the knob.

  The door opened. Heavy drapes shrouded the room in darkness. Bridey found the light switch, flipped it, and gasped as bright light flooded the room.

  “Detective,” she called to Latasha, who was still in the guest room, looking into the closet.

  Latasha joined them at the doorway. “Hot damn,” she said under her breath. “We got ’er.”

  Large poster boards, some with black mourning frames around them, lined the walls. Latasha walked in and took a closer look. A name labeled each board: Delores Pruitt, Porfirio, Chester Cheney, and Chet Wilson’s photo boards were bordered in black. Judge Phoebe’s and Yetta Horowitz’s photos were not.

  “All dead. Even Chester Cheney’s photo has got a black border. She musta left here pretty sure ol’ Chester was gonna meet his maker.” Latasha said. “We got enough here to send Mi
z Lopez on her way.”

  She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “Chief, it’s Detective Ezuma. We hit the motherload at The Albatross. Need CSI here.” She listened and answered, “Ain’t no doubt ‘bout this one, sir. We’re gonna book Valentina Lopez for Murder One. She’s got four notches on her belt that we can see here. Bridey and Prescott are gonna stay here and wait for CSI. I’m comin’ in.”

  Chapter 83

  Yetta’s face wrinkled in bewilderment. “How could this be?” she asked for the twelfth time. “I had her in my home. She loved my blintzes. She brought me flowers.” Yetta motioned to her dining room window. Clusters of trumpet-shaped, white flowers on long stems lined the windowsill, their perfume permeating the room. “Valentina killed Delores and Porfirio and Chester? Stupid Chester? Why? For what?” Her voice rose shrilly.

  Bridey and Prescott sat uncomfortably on the sofa. Prescott cleared his throat. “Motive hasn’t been disclosed yet, Mrs. Horowitz, but Ms. Lopez has made a confession. We just came to tell you police presence is being pulled here and it’s safe to leave your apartment.”

  Yetta sniffed. “Safe? Look at my front door.” All three swung their heads toward the apartment’s front door. A deadbolt, a slip chain, and a hook and holder lock lined the door and doorjamb.

  “Now look at my sliding door.” Yetta pointed to the sliding doors overlooking the pool. A metal rod filled the door track and a metal cuff went from one door handle to the other.

  “Mrs. Horowitz, you’re on the seventh floor. And the balconies are at least twenty feet apart. No one can get into your unit from the balcony.”

  “What—you don’t think someone can’t swing from the balcony on top, down to mine? You cops are daydreaming. For this I pay taxes?” She rolled her eyes. “I should buy a gun if this is the kind of thinking you cops do.”

  Bridey nudged Prescott. “I assure you, Mrs. Horowitz, you are well protected in this town.”

  “Do I have to remind you,” Yetta fixed her with a stern eye, “three people are dead? You call that protection?”

  “Sometimes, Mrs. Horowitz, things happen that police have no idea will happen and don’t have any control over. It’s called life. Life happens, Mrs. Ho rowitz. We can only react to it.” Prescott fished a card out of his jacket and handed it to Yetta. “Here’s a number for you to call if you have any questions. We have to go.” He grasped Bridey by the arm and walked toward the door. “If you could let us out…we have to get back to work.”

  Yetta sniffed and slowly unlocked, unbolted, and unchained the locks. She nodded at them as the couple exited and began the locking up process as soon as the door closed. These babies are giving me advice? They’re still in diapers. What do they know about life?

  Yetta shuffled into her kitchen and turned the kettle on for tea. She laid out the rugelach she was saving for her mahjong game with Valentina.

  I can’t live like this anymore. I need to sell this place. Yetta picked up the phone and waited impatiently as it rang at her sister’s home. Sylvia had been nagging her for a long time to share her home in Boca. But give up my independence? Maybe it would be good. I’d have company. Someone to talk to, to shop with. The wrinkles on Yetta’s face smoothed out a bit.

  “Hello?” a voice very much like Yetta’s answered.

  “Sylvia?” Yetta popped a walnut-laced rugelach into her mouth. “Get the mahjong board ready. I’m moving in with you.”

  ***

  Bridey and Prescott reached the elevator but neither pressed the call button.

  Bridey turned to Prescott. “You handled the difficult Yetta really well, Pres,” she said softly. “I never saw that side of you before.”

  Prescott looked at the woman before him. Gone was the antagonism they shared. It was replaced with a feeling of respect and something else.

  “I’ve got other sides you haven’t seen.” He returned her smile. “And I’d like to show all of them to you. Want to start with my dinner side tonight?”

  Bridey nodded slowly. Her father’s prediction seemed to be coming true. “He’s a good man, baby,” he’d said. “Under all the nonsense, there’s a man there who has real feelin’s for you.”

  Clancy had seen what Bridey had not because she was too busy competing with Prescott over cases. She needed to listen to her dad more.

  “I’d love that, Pres.” She reached out and pressed the call button.

  Chapter 84

  Clancy lifted the heavy, cut-crystal glass half-filled with amber liquid to the light and studied it.

  “Lovely color, this Irish whiskey has.”

  Phoebe stroked the sleeping Shamus on her lap. “I thought you’d enjoy it.” She sipped from her glass of white wine. “It’s a good way to mark the end of the nightmare at The Albatross. I often thought Chester might have been responsible for Delores Pruitt’s murder. I knew he had words with her a few times. He also had words with Porfirio about not showing up for work and not working when he was here. When I was attacked, I suspected Chester. We crossed swords every time we talked. Seemed like a reasonable deduction but there wasn’t any evidence. Valentina wasn’t high on my list. Now we know she was an actress in her youth. She certainly did a great acting job when the mannequin was found hanging from the flagpole.”

  Phoebe thought back. “No one would have suspected her then. All indicators pointed back to grumpy Chester. Seemed like something he’d cook up. Valentina didn’t seem to have a motive for murder.”

  “But the notes on the photos the police found in her home were definite proof of motive. You, dear Judge, posed a threat for Ms. Lopez. On your photo, she likened you to Fidel Castro—strong-willed, intent on following rules and regulations and meting out justice.” He chuckled. “Can’t say she was wrong, now can you?”

  “It’s what I did all my life. No, she was correct.”

  “If any good came out of this whole thing,” Clancy said, slowly, “it’s that I got to see you again. I hadn’t planned on doing that until Bridey told me there were a couple of murders and you were living here.”

  “What are your plans now, Clancy?”

  “I don’t really have any, Judge. When I retired from the force five years ago, I went into the police dog training business, and I sold it last year. Then Bridey told me about this case and I came down with Shamus to see if we could help. Now that it’s done,” he sighed, “I’m at loose ends. Bridey and Prescott are keepin’ company and I’m really happy about that.” A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he asked, nonchalantly, “Always nice to have good company around, wouldn’t you agree, Judge?”

  Phoebe looked at her old friend. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

  “And would you say we make good company, Judge?”

  Phoebe paused to consider his question carefully before she answered. “I’m an old woman, Clancy. I’ve had a full life, yes, but I’ve lived alone for almost all of it. I’m a loner. I need my space and quiet. It’s a way of life for me.” She gestured to Shamus, sleeping soundly on her lap. “And then you brought this creature into my life. He’s protected me, amused me, and loved me for the past month. I’ve enjoyed nature through his eyes. He notices the least little thing, studies it, and decides whether it’s worth his attention. Maybe that’s why I’m so taken by this scamp. I operate pretty much the same way as he does.”

  Phoebe turned to a now quiet Clancy. “To answer your question, Clancy, yes. We make very good company. We’re good friends.” She leaned forward in her wing chair, almost unseating a surprised Shamus. “But I think we’d make even better business partners.” Her blue eyes lit up in anticipation. “I’ve been thinking about starting a business of my own. And I think you may be interested in becoming my partner.”

  “Business?” Clancy’s demeanor went from dejected to interested. He leaned forward in his chair.

  Chapter 85

  The light turquoise Intracoastal was the perfect pedestal for the Jupiter Lighthouse. Majestically red in the setting afternoon sun, the l
ighthouse reigned over the tropical landscape. Yachts floated by, waiting for the drawbridge to open before they could continue on their journeys.

  “Probably one of the prettiest sights in all of Florida…hell, anywhere.” Devin motioned to the scene before them with his glass of sweetened iced tea. They sat companionably on the condo’s balcony watching the sunset.

  “Paradise…no other word for it, Dev.” Kate was tired. It had been a long week, at home and at work. She leaned back in her lounge chair and closed her eyes.

  Stewart was back in town, wooing her again, when she was too busy at work to be wooed. Flowers, invitations for cocktails and dinner, gifts of jewelry she refused to accept because she felt she was being bought—definitely a difficult week at home. She was in no rush to reconcile with her ex. Competing with the elite Palm Beach caterers was challenging and exhilarating. She wasn’t about to give it all up and become Mrs. Stewart Parker again, homebound, her life revolving about her husband’s.

  “You need to take a vacation, my girl,” Devin saw the grey smudges under Kate’s eyes.

  He’d been telling her for a while she needed more help at Kate’s Kitchen, and she’d just taken his advice by hiring a business manager, an executive assistant, two more bakers, and two counter help.

  “In one short year, I’ve got a dozen people working for me, two vans, a partner, four bakers, and two chefs.” She opened her eyes and looked at Devin. “Who’d a thunk it? I came down here like Orphan Annie and now I’ve got an Oprah empire going.”