Trevar's Team 2

by Kieran York

  I mentally listed the people I’d need to talk with about it. I would save Dr. Rhodes for a day or two. Maybe see if Summer could break his story. I didn’t want to antagonize him. Rachel had a list she was checking, doing more thorough backgrounds on everyone. She might turn up something on someone. Maybe she could come up with hidden debts of Curtis Rhodes.

  The Carletons had been checked by Perrault’s legal team prior to the trial. We had the case notes, and I’d looked them over. They didn’t really have the money to invest in a hitman. Not a hitman like this one. Precise. One or two bullet take out. And if their son was a policeman, there was a probability that they wouldn’t cross the line on criminality. If for nothing else, they would not wish to tarnish their son’s badge. Olga bragged about him.

  Gleaning some information initially from Felipa Cerilo, was a good sign. I took my phone from my short’s pocket and dialed. “Hi, Felipa. This is Beryl Trevar. I wanted to chat with you. You were cooperative and helpful during our last talk. It is much appreciated. I thought I would invite you to have lunch with me today. I know that Silky’s Garden Grill isn’t far from Perrault’s Cosmetics.”

  “I do know where it is,” Felipa answered. “Yes, a quick lunch. Things around here are busy. Without Wendell, it’s a bit confused.”

  “I understand. We’ll make it quick. Can you meet me around noon?”

  She agreed. When we met, I could heap praise high. She was a rock kind of person, and she probably hadn’t really had accolades for her years of service and loyalty. She’d set my investigation in motion, and I appreciated that.

  Walking back to the yacht, I considered the Case #2 – the murder of Pixy. After lunch, and interrogating Felipa, I would stay behind so I might talk with Silky. Check to see if she’d heard anything.

  I was also being drawn back to Pixy’s dilapidated craft. We’d let Tom know about the craft, and he was doing a search of the boat. I hoped that he’d finished up with the homicide team’s investigation there. I wanted another look at it, and I also wanted to chat with her ‘sketchy’ neighbor. Lefty Leroy might have a morsel or two of information.

  After a semi-cool shower drizzled over my heated body, I dressed and drove to West Palm’s lonely tattered docks. There were a few crafts, in various stages of repair. Used for weekend fishing perhaps. However only Lefty’s houseboat and Pixy’s craft were homed year-round. At least, her boat had been lived in.

  The area was still cordoned off with police crime-scene tape.

  Sound was amplifying from Lefty’s boat. Bobby Dylan’s bootleg series was playing.

  “Permission to board,” I yelled out as I reached Lefty’s gangplank.

  “Come on.” He appeared in the doorway. He pointed to a couple deck chairs. “Let’s have a seat. So much excitement here yesterday.” His face withered into disapproval. “I tell ya, I don’t like excitement.”

  “Mostly, I don’t either. I see they’ve left the tape up, so they’ll probably be back later. Then maybe unseal the perimeter this afternoon.”

  “Cops ask me about it. I’d like to see the killer caught, but I just got no idea for sure who killed her. Did you find that salvage yard fella? Or the lady who bought The Ghost? The lady was little. Like Pixy. Maybe they were related. Both about the same age. Well, the lady may have been older. But they looked different. Except they were both so small.”

  “The salvage yard owner, any more ideas?”

  “You might want to check a few miles north. There’s a place there. Could be he bought it.”

  After chatting several minutes, I made my way to The Ghost. Lefty had already cautioned me not to violate the crime tape’s boundary. I told him I was helping with the case, and knew the Chief of Homicide. His look of disapproval indicated his estimation of me might have fallen drastically. From this I believed that gnarled elderly man was law abiding.

  Again, I scoured the small vessel. Pixy had lived here. It was her home. I sat on one of the chairs where she probably watched her favorite show. Turning on the TV, I viewed the cartoon characters. I watched a few minutes. Jogging my memory took me back to when Pixy had talked about Splash and Bubble, and other of the character’s names. She seemed disappointed that I didn’t recognize the names. Now, I knew them.

  I recalled that I’d been sitting on the beach after a run, and observing the waves. Pixy had approached me and sat. She showed me some of her shells. I purchased three of them. I’d forgotten that. I meant to give one to each Summer and Rachel, and I was planning to keep the one they hadn’t selected. But I somehow misplaced them. Now, they seemed valuable to me. I vowed to look until I found them. There was so much unfinished business.

  I’d reminisced about trying to communicate with Pixy, as I often did. I felt frustration. She said Ripple, and pointed to herself. Now I knew she had told me about the Seahorse named Ripple. From her favorite animated show. She felt like Ripple, or maybe emulated Ripple.

  Now, I would put my memories away. A glance at my wristwatch showed I’d have time to drive up the coast to take a look at the new salvage yard. Then I should be returning for lunch with Filipa at Silky’s just in time.

  The salvage yard was small, and was indeed the place I was looking for. I’d asked one of the workers about Pixy’s ship. I stepped into the shanty office, and saw a rugged, unkempt man of about forty. “I’m Vern Hume,” he announced.

  “I’m Beryl Trevar. I’m wanting some information about the craft The Ghost. You sold it to a woman, and I’m attempting to locate her.”

  He rummaged through his files. Papers were crammed in a grocery box. When he came up with the paperwork, I was amazed. The name was Lacey Cross. I took a photo of the paper, with her signature.

  I thanked him, and quickly retreated from the dusty shanty. By the time I reached my car, I had dialed Rachel. She was healing quickly, she claimed. She stated that Summer had left to deliver the case report to Glenda at the Perrault Mansion. I inquired about the records search for the owner or Pixy’s craft.

  “Got it right here.” Rachel was obviously hunting for her notes. She had, however sent copy of the document of ownership to my phone.

  Squinting, I read the name on the document aloud. “Lacey Inge.” I looked back to compare the signatures of Lacey Cross and Lacey Inge. “Signatures match. First name the same.”

  “Last names don’t. Strange.” Rachel sighed.

  “Maybe Lacey had married. Registered married name,” I guessed.

  Rachel’s sarcasm hadn’t been eliminated by the bullet. “Maybe she’s hiding her penchant for buying beater-crafts.”

  I chuckled. “Rach, when you get time, would you check out the names?”

  “Will do. I’m getting tired of being here. Hanna is wonderful. I’m not a good patient, so it is especially warming to know she loves me anyway.”

  “I was wondering how long it would take for you to mention that.”

  “Beryl, I’m not a fall-in-love kinda gal. She mystifies me,” Rachel confessed.

  “When does she plan to spring you from the hospital?”

  “In a day or two, if I keep working on her. But I’ll need to recuperate when I get back to the yacht. She said a week of bed rest. At least I’ll have my office there.”

  “Rach, don’t rush it. I don’t want to see all this reparation go down the drain.”

  “Hanna doesn’t want all her amazing stitch work to go down the drain. I’m being very gentle, and careful.”

  “Look, I’ve got to dash. I’m meeting Felipa at Silky’s for lunch.”

  “Silky’s huh? Isn’t that where the woman you called adorable hangs out? Evan something-or-other?”

  “Yes,” I said with a smirk. “But it’s also near Perrault’s Cosmetics. I was being considerate of Felipa. I can read that Felipa is a very punctual, precise woman. I want to get her thoughts on a few things. She knows she can trust me.”

  “And it’s obvious that Glenda relies on Felipa. A great source. And you secretly hope that Evan will be
there at Silky’s?”

  “Evan. Her last name is Finch. Evan Finch.”

  “Shall I run a background on her?”

  I paused. “Maybe. If you have time.” I took a few raspy breaths.

  “I’ll make time.” Her cynicism was in full bloom. “As I recall, your past romantic selections weren’t without danger,” she accused playfully.

  “They were challenging. And hopeless.”

  “That sums it up. I’ll see if Evan Finch has any priors.”

  “Thanks, Rach. Don’t overdo. You need to heal so you can get back home. Pluma misses you. She’s staying in her corner, spitting back grapes, and she’s being quiet. And I miss you.”

  “I’ll concern myself with healing for Pluma. When she’s in a corner, not eating, and not cursing, she’s hurting.”

  “We’re all hurting without you there, Rach,” I admitted.

  “I’m fine now. Please, be safe out there. Watch your back.” She snickered, “As you are aware, I didn’t watch my back closely enough.”

  “But Rach, you did protect Glenda’s boobs.” We both laughed, and I liked that.

  While driving my sleek, newly purchased Mercedes convertible to Silky’s, I wondered how I would keep my car safe. In the past, my vehicles had been ravaged because I was a hand’s on, ride ‘em cowgirl detective. People liked to beat up on my car. And me. I also thought about my past’s bad romantic choices. Although feeling guilty that I mistrusted, I understood my reasoning. I’d been duped. That left behind only tattered trust.

  Evan Finch’s rented beach Jeep wasn’t around. However, Felipa’s silver Lexus was pulling into the side parking lot. After we were seated and had ordered, she pulled a file from her fancy leather bag. She opened it. Papers fluttered, then she rearranged them.

  Throughout lunch, she released her findings.

  “In confidence,” she sternly warned. “There were a few things that haven’t been adding up.”

  “Like?”

  “For instance, Curtis Rhodes has asked for two advances on his salary. That’s unusual. He’s making way more than he should be making. He lives in a small apartment, and I don’t think he has a woman who would be draining his funds. Nor does he gamble. To my knowledge. I thought you’d like to know anything I find out of the ordinary.”

  “I do, definitely.” I knew that Mandy Jewel had told me he’d visited hookers awhile back when she was running the game. But that was a cash and carry deal. And he even did that on the cheap. Or at least he attempted to pay bottom dollar. I would repeat that thought to Mandy verbatim. Mandy loved bawdy thoughts. “Anything else?” I quizzed with a probing gaze.

  “At the mansion, the head gardener yelled at one of the uppity secretaries. He called her terrible names. Glenda reprimanded him and threatened to let him go. As he stormed out of the office, he mumbled about it being too bad Wendell was the one killed.”

  “Does Glenda know about that comment?”

  She crouched nearer. “No, she has so much she’s dealing with that I didn’t want additional burdens for her.”

  “A good decision,” I agreed. I wouldn’t want him chastised, then he might bolt. He was a suspect.

  “Beryl, I realize Glenda’s a suspect, but she is mourning. I go into to her office and see that’s she’s been crying. She and Wendell were so close. Always together. She wouldn’t have harmed him.”

  “Back to the gardener,” I said, pulling his name from my memory. “Drew Acherman, right?”

  “Yes. He’s an unfriendly, despicable man. Wonderful with the grounds. He’s an excellent worker, but he is socially rough. Uncouth,” she tattled.

  Recalling Summer’s interrogation notes, he was similarly described. Handsome, in his early thirties, with dark stringy hair, and in excellent shape, he was cut, ripped, and proud of his toned body. Around six-foot, his frame moved with a cunning arrogance. Or maybe it was just a gardener’s pride in his Palm trees.

  “If you could send me his work record - background from his file, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Well, after all,” she debated with her conscience, “you are on the Perrault payroll.”

  “I really appreciate your assistance, Felipa.”

  “I want to see the killer brought to justice.” As an afterthought, she also added, “And the perpetrator that shot your partner.”

  “Thank you, Felipa.”

  She stood to leave. Checking her list, she tucked her information into her bag. “That is about it. But I’ll continue watching.”

  Her walk to the door was more of an official march.

  At the register, I nodded to Silky. “Lunch was yummy. Any more thoughts about Pixy?”

  “I miss her. Oh, and Evan left a message for you.” She dug out the paper that had been stuck beneath the register’s tray.

  I took the note, then swiped my card, signed, and left.

  In my car, I opened the note and it informed me that Evan was planning on being out at Pixy’s place. She would like to meet me aboard The Ghost. That gave me time to drop by home and see if Summer had any additional information. She wanted to work on updating Rachel’s immaculate notations in the office. I’d see what else she could tell me about the gardener. Then I would be better informed to stop by the Perrault Mansion on my way to meet Evan.

  Summer was hastily scouring the office of the mounds of letters, notes, etc. “Let’s lock off the office until Rach is fully recovered.”

  I laughed at her suggestion. “Are you more frightened of Rach or Pluma?”

  “A tie.” Summer lifted her own notebooks from under the pile of papers. “Tess Norris is from Cambridge, Massachusetts. I got ahold of her. She repeated what she’d told Barb. When I told her that Pixy had been murdered, she was stunned. She said that she’d look through the Harvard yearbooks for the man she’d seen in the Harvard shirt. She would check student photos and let us know if she’d recognized anyone. She’ll call.”

  “That gives me an idea. If you get time, could you make a check of any student at Harvard that lives in Palm Beach, or surrounding areas?”

  “Beryl, there will probably be dozens and dozens. But I’ll check.”

  “On our other case, news is that Curtis Rhodes is getting advances on his paychecks. I’ll try to check that out. I’m going over to the Perrault Mansion now. I want to interview your gardener buddy, Drew Acherman. Felipa is suspicious because he got caught losing his temper with one of the women employees. Called her names. After Glenda rebuked him with a warning, his temper flared again. As he was leaving, under his breath he said that it was too bad Wendell was the victim. Inferring that Glenda should have been the one killed.”

  “From everything I could discover, he’s definitely a hothead.” Summer closed her eyes, recalling her encounter with him. “The word asshole is too strong for most people. But it fits him perfectly.”

  “Any suggestions for me?”

  “Don’t be yourself.”

  I gave her a departing glare.

  The drive to the mansion would probably be a wasted trip. Making any determinations about Acherman after hearing the descriptions of him from an employee, and from Summer, was probably going to be skewed to an automatic dislike. I thought I’d drop in to see Glenda. Let her know my firm was earning its huge fee. She wasn’t in, so I left a note that I was interrogating a few members of her house staff.

  Outside one of the yard groomers was tidying a few flowers at the entrance. The man was from Mexico, and was happy I spoke Spanish. He pointed in a direction, then told me that was where he thought I might find his boss, Señor Acherman. I asked the garden worker if he’d seen anything on the day Wendell was murdered. He had not. He was repairing the ride-on mower. He pointed out a putty-colored stucco building filled with garden equipment.

  Walking in the direction he’d pointed, I saw the area where the rifle shots were fired. I took the detour to look again to see if there was anything else that I hadn’t noticed. It had been disrupted, probably by the homicide dete
ctives gathering evidence. There was still tape around it. The days had made it look haphazardly spread about. Usually, Forensics neatly replaces the tape. It hadn’t been that windy, so I wondered if someone had tampered with the crime area. Although it looked the same, my eyes followed a couple sets of footprints out toward where the small speed craft had been waiting for the killer. It would have been a rushed job. Quick shots, drop gun, take off, and make it to the craft. Then blaze from the beach through the waterway.

  “You’re not supposed to be here!” came the stern warning from Drew Acherman. “This is off limits.” His deep voice was low, stern, and threatening. I whirled around. “You aren’t supposed to be her, lady.”

  “I’m working with the police, and with your employer.” I dug through my pocket to pull out my credentials. I clipped them to my waistband. “Call Glenda, or Chief Tom Powers,” I instructed.

  “I’ve seen you at the house. The woman who was shot, she was with your firm, right? I already talked with a partner of your service.”

  “Yes. Rachel was shot, and I believe you did speak with Summer. I’m just checking with you to see if you can help me with this case.”

  Laughing, his gruffness eased. “Hell, if that tough Amazonian partner of yours can’t beat the information out of me, you got no prayer. Summer, she is one rugged woman.”

  I joined in his joke. “She really is a ball-buster. I’d watch out for her if I were you.”

  “I don’t know a damn thing about the killing. Wendell was always nice to me. I don’t know who would have wanted to kill him. Maybe a competitor.”

  “Did you ever see anyone skulking around here?”

  “Nope. I already explained to the cops. I scare people off the grounds. And if you’re thinking of checking my sheet, I’ll tell you. Yes, I have a record. Battery, I get drunk and smash people up. People that bother me. But I’ve been staying sober for the last couple years. And I’m clean.”

  “Did Wendell and Glenda know you have a record?”

  “They knew. Wendell asked me to be protection around here. We have security. But some of them are robo-cops. I terrify intruders. Be truthful. Didn’t I scare you?”