by Delynn Royer
“But you all came back to the city together that night?” Trixie asked.
“Yeah,” Lenore said. “Arnie dropped us off at Johnny’s place around eight.”
“What kind of mood was he in?”
“Not so good. Maybe if he’d been different I wouldn’t have got so crazy like.”
“You two had words?”
Lenore snorted dismissively but tears started to well. “Yeah. First off, when we got to the hotel, there was a telephone message at the front desk from Nell.”
“What was the message about?”
“He didn’t say, but whatever it was, it put him in an awful mood. I should have known better than to open my yap, but Nell leaving messages was just the last straw. It was like, well, he just left me with Arnie for the whole day when I thought we was going to spend the day together, kind of romantic-like, you know? And I wanted to know what was so important that he left me alone with Arnie for hours.”
“And?”
“And then he got all sore and said I asked too many questions and—” Lenore cut off, sniffed, pulled her sodden handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her welling eyes.
“And what?” Trixie pressed.
“You can’t print it.”
“You mean, he swore at you? Did he hit you?”
Lenore shook her head.
“Then what?”
“He said if he wanted to be married to a dame with a brain, he wouldn’t be divorcing Nell.”
Trixie watched as Lenore dabbed at her eyes again. John Murphy, you bum.
“You can’t print that,” Lenore said again, sniffing and straightening her shoulders, pulling herself together.
“I won’t,” Trixie assured her, then softened her tone. “Is that the last time you saw him?”
Lenore nodded. “I called a taxi and went back to the club. Arnie was there and—”
“And you two connected?”
Lenore looked surprised. “How did you—?”
“It was obvious to me back there that you two are...well, friendly.”
Lenore’s expression went from surprised to defensive, and Trixie rushed to repair the damage. “And why not? Arnie seems like a...” Trixie had to reach for words, “...sweet sort of fella.”
Lenore pursed her lips. “Well...”
“Look, all’s fair in love and war, right? And Johnny was being a real bum that night.”
“You can’t print that,” Lenore said. “Arnie would kill me.”
“It’ll be our secret. Was that the first time?”
“What?”
“For you and Arnie. That night after your fight with Johnny?”
Lenore looked uncomfortable, stuffed her handkerchief back into her purse and turned to the mirror again to check her face. “Yeah, sure. It was just one of those crazy things, ya know?”
It was impossible to tell if Lenore was lying. Before Trixie could press any further, the door to the ladies’ room opened and another woman entered.
The interview was over.
Trixie thanked Lenore and then left her to her business, first checking the hallway to be sure it was clear before scooting past the office door of Fabersham, Beekes and Meyer. Luck was with her. No one emerged from the law office while she waited to step on the elevator. During the short ride, she glanced at her watch. She just might beat Sean back to the Examiner offices after all.
Stepping out into the lobby, Trixie scanned the area for any sign of Sean before heading for the coffee shop. She spotted Finn seated at a small table near the front, sipping a hot chocolate and munching on a cookie. Nell must not have left the building yet.
“Any sign of Sean? What about Nell?” she asked breathlessly, sliding into the chair opposite Finn.
Finn swallowed the last bite of his cookie and shook his head. “Aren’t they done yet? It’s been almost an hour.”
“I don’t know. I left the waiting room to talk to Lenore Stewart alone. Wait’ll you get a load of—”
Finn’s eyes widened as they shifted to something that loomed behind her. “Uh oh.”
Trixie’s heart sank when Sean touched her on the shoulder.
“Did you get your story, Miss Frank?”
Chapter Sixteen
“Nuts,” Trixie muttered. Sean’s jaw was set, his dark blue eyes uncompromising and clear. “How long have you been—?”
“About five minutes.” Sean jerked a thumb in Finn’s direction. “Sherlock here missed me getting off the elevator.”
Was it her imagination or was Sean as annoyed with poor Finn as he was with her? She glanced behind Sean. “Where’s Nell?”
Finn was already on his feet. “Did I miss her?”
“Relax.” Sean shot Finn a look that was anything but relaxing. “She’s still upstairs.” Then, to Trixie, “I’m headed to your office. You coming, or do you have more spying to do here?”
Had she heard him right? Had he just invited her to accompany him back to the Examiner office? Maybe he wasn’t as angry with her as she thought. “I’m coming.”
After giving Finn a dollar for a taxi, Trixie followed Sean from the building, trying to gauge his level of annoyance. She still felt bad about betraying his trust.
“So,” she ventured gingerly when they stepped out onto the busy sidewalk. It was the lunch hour. “How did the reading of the will go?”
“That information will be available after the estate documents are filed.” Sean’s tone was chilly. He didn’t so much as glance at her as they set out in the direction of the auto park where Trixie had left Julius’s coupe.
Trixie kept her tone bright as she struggled to keep pace with his long strides. “I think it’s safe to assume that Nell must have made out pretty well. I doubt Johnny left all of his money to Arnie or a brother who’s never around.”
“You sure enough about that to go to print?”
“Maybe,” she said flippantly, then offered an olive branch. “You interested in what I learned today?”
“Anything I don’t already know?”
“While you were in with the lawyer, I talked to Lenore. She had a lot to say.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“For example, did you know that Nell had a key to Johnny’s apartment until as late as a few weeks ago?” Sean didn’t react, so she pushed on. “Lenore made Johnny change the lock on his door when she found out, but of course that doesn’t mean Johnny couldn’t have given Nell a new key after that.”
He glanced at her grudgingly. “Which has exactly what to do with this case?”
“Maybe nothing. It’s just a fact. Johnny and Nell were friendly right up to the time Johnny filed for divorce. Makes you wonder what made him file after all that time, doesn’t it?”
“Lenore,” Sean said and Trixie imagined that his tone was starting to thaw.
“Maybe,” she allowed. “Maybe Johnny really loved her. Did you know that he wanted to have children with her?”
Sean tossed her a doubtful look.
“That’s what Lenore said,” she insisted. “Johnny was ready to settle down, build a house on Long Island, have kiddies, the whole shebang.”
Sean snorted.
“You ever wonder why he and Nell never had any?”
“Any what?”
“Kids. They were married for almost fourteen years.”
“Is that all you and Lenore talked about? Wedding plans? Babies?”
“No, Lenore told me that Nell just happened to drop by late one night and was waiting for Johnny when they got back to his apartment. That was the day Nell was served her papers. Lenore didn’t hear what they talked about, but when Nell left, she was steaming.”
“Not so surprising.”
“But that’s not all,” Trixie continu
ed. “You know how Johnny spent his last two days?”
“On the Island.”
“Turn here,” she said as they reached the auto park. Thankfully, Sean’s stride slowed as they turned into the lot. “He and Lenore and Arnie drove out for the day and went all the way up to Montauk. The next morning, Johnny went off on some mysterious business of his own and left Lenore and Arnie to amuse themselves in East Hampton for most of the day. Did you know Lenore Stewart and Arnie Cavanaugh are having an affair?”
“Yeah.”
“You did? Why didn’t you mention it?”
He gave her a look that made her feel like a puppy that had just gotten its face rubbed in its own doo-doo. “You have to ask?”
Touché.
“Okay, fair enough,” she allowed, “but, what do you think Johnny was up to all that time? Something that ended up getting him killed?”
Sean shook his head as they passed by a row of parked automobiles. “Could be. Or maybe not. Maybe whoever killed Johnny had it planned for a while. Maybe they were just waiting for the right opportunity.”
“This is it,” Trixie said when they reached the coupe.
Sean paused by the driver’s side door. “You want me to drive?”
“Not necessary. I’m an excellent driver.”
Sean looked doubtful, but he opened the door for her. Trixie paused before climbing inside. She peered up at him from beneath the brim of her hat. “You have all this figured out yet, Detective?”
“Not yet.” His tone was cool.
“Hmmmm.” Trixie climbed inside. She waited as he shut the door, rounded the rear of the vehicle, and then settled in beside her. He pulled out a sheet of paper from inside his coat and began to read.
He’s still sore. So, maybe she deserved it. She weighed whether or not to speak or let sleeping dogs lie. “Look,” she said, “I’m sorry I told Julius about Danny. It’s just that, he’s my boss and it’s my job, and—”
Sean sighed and looked at her. There was a wall of distrust between them that hadn’t been there before. It was a wall that she’d built herself. “I haven’t been honest with you about everything at the paper. I’m not exactly a full-fledged entertainment reporter. I mostly do rewrites.”
“Rewrites?”
“Yeah, I sit by the phone and take calls from other reporters, take down their notes, then write their stories. No glory, no byline. Once a week, my editor will send me out to review a show or interview an actress. Last week, the reason I was downtown when I met Danny was to report on the Christmas parade. It was the biggest assignment I got until this story fell in my lap.”
“What about the Brooklyn Bobbed Bandit?”
“A fluke, an anomaly, a once-in-a-lifetime—”
Sean looked away and ran his hand across his face. “I don’t know much about the news business, but I doubt it was a fluke, and I doubt Merryweather thinks it was, either, or he wouldn’t have hired you.”
She sighed. “Yeah, well, that only goes so far. Now I have to prove myself.”
He turned to her again, this time studying her until she wanted to look away, but she forced herself not to. “To Merryweather or yourself?” he finally asked.
“Both.”
“So, this is your big break?”
“I guess. Maybe. I don’t know, but it’s important that I do a good job. I got carried away with everything that was happening, started to wonder if keeping information back from my editor meant that I was letting my emotions interfere with my job.” Trixie was careful not to say emotions concerning him, but she figured he was a smart enough detective to figure that out. Or maybe not. After all, kiss or no kiss, it seemed that she could be nothing more than a passing interest with him. He still carried a torch for Nell.
Sean’s expression as she bared her professional soul told her little in the area of his heart’s desire. When she was done, though, his gaze had softened. The tension between them had begun to ease. “You’re still being watched,” he said evenly.
She sat up. “What?”
“Carter knows you moved Danny this morning.”
Something sank in Trixie’s stomach. “Oh,” was all she could think of to say.
“Let’s hope it was just the cops that were watching and no one else.”
“I didn’t think—”
“Right. Next time I tell you to do something—”
Trixie raised a hand. “I know, I know.”
“Do it,” he finished, then resumed reading the paper in his hand.
Trixie let out a breath, chagrined at how the words that followed felt like stones in her throat. “So, uh...sorry.”
“Mmmhmm.” He didn’t look up. Subject closed.
Trixie wondered morosely if he’d ever trust her again as she tried in vain to start the engine and put the gears into reverse. Nuts. She tried again, gave the engine a rev on the accelerator, pushed the gear pedal down with her left foot, and pushed the reverse pedal with her right. Abruptly, the car leaped back, jerking them both forward and stalling out with a petulant phlat!
“What are you doing?” Sean demanded.
“What does it look like?” She smacked the steering wheel. “I’m backing up.”
“Oh, for the love of Mike.” Sean tossed down his paper and threw open the passenger door. “Who taught you to drive, anyhow?”
“Applegate.”
“What the hell’s an apple gate?”
“The butler,” Trixie said under her breath, but Sean had already rounded the coupe and started to crank.
“Move over,” he ordered when the engine was running again.
Trixie flounced over to the passenger seat as Sean yanked open the driver’s door. Within minutes, they’d pulled out from the auto park and into a stream of traffic heading west.
Glancing down, Trixie noticed the paper Sean had left on the seat. He glanced over just as she plucked it up. “You might as well read it,” he said.
It was a list of John Murphy’s assets. The first half-dozen items were comprised of real estate in Manhattan, Brooklyn, Long Island and Florida. The man wasn’t worth a million—more like two.
“Out loud,” Sean said as they crossed the intersection at Broadway.
“Real property,” she began and rattled off the first three parcels of real estate, all lower Manhattan and mid-town addresses. “Holy cat, there’s six properties here in Manhattan alone, two in Brooklyn, a bunch more on Long Island, and it looks like only one still had a mortgage. Why did he bother with being a crook? He was a real estate tycoon.”
“Never mind the city properties,” Sean said, steering around a slow-moving Buick and picking up speed as they left the intersection at Church Street behind. “What else?”
“There’s a residence in Miami Beach.”
“A vacation home,” Sean said. “Nell spends time there.”
Trixie couldn’t contain a little snort of disdain at his mention of Nell. “Next we have a list of unimproved parcels up around Fort Pond Bay in Montauk.” Trixie paused. “That’s odd.”
“Why?”
“It’s almost a thousand acres.” She looked at Sean. “There’s nothing up there but a fishing village. My father and his friends go there to hunt and fish in the summer. I’ve been there a few times myself, and I can assure you, that’s all there is to do. John Murphy doesn’t strike me as a nature lover. Am I wrong?”
“No, a city boy, through and through,” Sean said.
“You know, Lenore said something about Johnny wanting to build a house on Long Island and that’s where they went the day before he was killed. She was complaining about how desolate it was.”
Trixie thought back to Lenore’s recitation. “He said to her, ‘You get the right couple of guys in the same room together, and overnight a place like
this could turn into the Miami Beach of the North.’ I bet Johnny was thinking about building more than a house up there.”
“Maybe,” Sean agreed. “What else is on the list?”
“Four cars and two boats.”
“Boats?” Sean echoed thoughtfully, turning right onto Hudson Street. They were now out of the business district. Traffic had thinned as had the number of hurried pedestrians clad in tailored suits.
“Well, his brother’s a sailor, right?” Trixie asked. “You think Johnny took an interest too?”
“He could barely swim,” Sean said.
“There’s a speedboat called Purity and a schooner called Forg—I don’t know this word. F-I-O-R—Whoa!” Sean hit the brakes, throwing Trixie forward hard enough to almost knock her forehead against the dashboard. “Hey.”
“What was that name?”
Trixie sat up again. Her hat had slipped sideways. She pushed it back out of her eyes to see that they’d come to a stop behind another Ford at a traffic light. “Who taught you how to drive?”
Sean ignored the barb. “The schooner,” he prodded.
Trixie focused on the property list. “I don’t recognize the name. F-I-O-R-G—”
“Fíorghra,” Sean finished for her. “I’ll be damned.”
“What?” The way Sean pronounced it, the word sounded foreign yet familiar. Where had she heard it before?
Traffic began to move again and Sean put the car into gear, shooting around the vehicle in front of them to find a clear lane. As they picked up speed, Trixie raised her voice to be heard over the engine. “What’s it mean?”
“True love.”
“Huh?” Trixie asked, then remembered where she’d heard it. From Danny when Sean had questioned him about Johnny’s murder. That certainly added another angle to consider. “Wait a minute, that was one of Johnny’s last words to Danny the night he was killed. It sounded like he was talking about Lenore or—”
“It was a pet name for his wife,” Sean cut in.
Trixie peered at him curiously. “How do you know that?”
“I asked Nell.”
“Hmmmm. Okay, then, so maybe he was talking about his wife and maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was really talking about a boat he named after her before they split up.”