by Kieran York
“You might check and see if there were any media photos of the son, Andrew, in court.”
“He’s probably ashamed of his crackpot mother,” Rachel’s chaffing remarks came with a dismissive hand wave.
Summer giggled. “He probably wouldn’t have been wearing his uniform to court. And Rach, on the court film, just look for anyone hiding behind benches in the back of the room. Olga Carleton was playing a scam on Perrault and it was apparent. I’m amazed she even got any money.”
“Let’s get on to Pixy’s case,” I suggested.
Summer divulged, “I’ve been concentrating on Ryder Hodges and Javier Ramon. Ramon is a middleclass kid. Been in very little trouble. The few people that would talk said that Ramon wasn’t bad, except when he was around Ryder.”
“I’m wondering why they hang out together,” I questioned.
Rachel responded, “I know they played high school sports together. Football and another sport or two. That must have been a commonality. Athletic departments sometimes will protect criminal activity. They can get away with anything because no woman wants to get the football star kicked off the team. Disloyalty to the school. That was even going on when I was in school.”
“Me, too.” I remembered back. I resented the pampering of sports athletes, and the utter ignoring of academic work.
Sports had always seemed to me to be too lenient. When an athlete committed a crime, he was protected. And games were too competitive, even against fellow players, while forgetting sportsmanship. Certainly, sports also have the potential for good. It gave kids a place to keep them out of trouble and good for training the body. Who is ever to know, I thought to myself.
Laughing, Rachel asked, “You never wished you could play shortstop on a softball team?”
“Nope,” I answered. “Did you?”
“We had some lovely players,” Rachel disclosed. “Dream makers.”
“Hmm,” I uttered, then changed topics. “Rach, not a major concern, but if you get time, could you chase down information on teams Ryder was on, etcetera?”
“Will do,” she said as she hastily made her notation.
“I’m thinking we probably won’t get much more on Lefty,” I said. “He’s been a wanderer for half a decade. But you might crosscheck his name again.”
We stood. Rachel declared, “I’ll check everything, and get back with anything I find. And whatever you two discover, let me know so I can keep everyone in the loop. Don’t say it!” her voice lifted and she shook her hand slightly.
Summer and I traded glances. “What? Say what?” I ask.
“I thought one of the two of you would say that I shouldn’t keep Hanna in my loop. You both made it abundantly clear that she should not be involved in my work. Even if she saved my life.”
“Rach,” I began my argument, “I don’t dislike her. She’s just overbearing sometimes.”
“I hadn’t noticed that she was overly bossy,” Rachel responded with disdain. “She tries to be helpful.”
Summer immediately said, “We don’t need her help.”
Rachel turned and walked out of the room.
“Trev,” Summer huffed, “Hanna is the bossiest woman I’ve ever seen.”
I grabbed my front-button over-blouse, and wrestled my arms into it. Blouses were never a fashion statement with me. I never even cared if they matched my slacks. The blouse hid my Beretta’s bulge nicely.
“You got that right,” I said snidely.
“Your best bet – is Rach going to settle down with her?”
“I’ve never seen her this protective.”
As we parted, walking to separate cars, I thought to myself about the enormous question. I enjoyed living with both Rach and Summer. We were more like sisters than best friends. Hanna was a nice woman. A good woman. But she would never be a sister, or come to that – even a close friend.
On my way to Pettault Cosmetics, I computed the number of questions I would ask each of the three suspects that were on my list. Filipa needed a general nudge, and she would spill the beans. Ross probably missed my company because he hadn’t seen me for a couple days. I’d give him lots of great questions. Doc Curtis, who was probably just a pretend doctor, would be able to ramble on and on for the remainder of the day. I’d listen to anything he had to say. I wouldn’t buy much of what he might say. But I’d listen.
Filipa had taken leave, she was headed to the mansion. She had some important business with Glenda. Ross was in, and although unhappy to see me, did welcome me into his office. Walls were covered with posters of Glenda’s smile beaming out from portraits affixed to partitions. Slather two-hundred dollar bottles of Perrault face elixir on your mug, and you too will be just as smashingly gorgeous as Glenda. In only a month or two.
“Nice office,” I said as I sat across from him.
“I’ve got to show some artistry since I’m head of visual productions.” He laughed slightly. “I just keep a wall filled with Glenda’s magnetic smile, and that’s that.”
“I really wanted to check to see if you’ve heard anything.”
“Like?”
“Any rumors, gossip, or any talk about who the killer might be?”
“Look, Beryl, if I had a clue, I’d tell you. I’m not the brave he-man type. I don’t like bullets flying around. And if you remember, an attempt was made on Glenda. Someone wanted her dead. That someone might come back.”
“Have you ever heard any little secrets about Glenda and Drew?”
His expression was classic shock. It took him by surprise. A wash of questions flowed over his face. Leaning back, perhaps to recover, he asked, “Who would think something like that?”
“It could be that I heard it from the police department. A lower-level cop,” I said to cover Tom’s tail. “And I’m telling you in the strictest of confidence.”
His laugh became a roar. He leaned toward me. With complete delight, he allowed his laugh to skitter to a stop. Running his hand through his hair, he nearly began his chortling symphony again. “That I can tell you. They aren’t having an affair. Never have had an affair. Would never have an affair.”
“Why are you so certain?” I was bemused.
“Easy. She isn’t his type.”
“I thought you were going to say that he isn’t her type.”
“Drew has something sensual about him. An erotically charged animal magnetism. If he wanted her, she’d be there.” His eyes gleamed. Ross breathed deeply. “I’m his type. We’ve been together for the last couple years. Actually, he got his act together so that we could have a relationship.”
There were no words. My eyes were broadcasting my disbelief. “You and Drew?”
“Yes. He’s great with the gardens. The flowers. He could have been a florist.”
“Does Glenda know?”
“Not a clue. But I can tell you, they’ve never even given one another a glimpse.” His lips curled upward. “No one knows except you and me. And naturally Drew.”
Whoa, I considered as I headed for the door. We exchanged the goodbye pleasantries, but danged if I could remember a single word that was spoken as we parted.
Crossing Drew off my list, not that he really was high on my suspect list, I walked to Curtis’s office. I wasn’t certain how I would be coherent after that relationship shocker.
“I know I’m the last one you really care to see,” I jabbered. “But I just have a few more questions. How friendly are you with the other employees here?”
“They’re dullards.” He put his pen down, but he continued looking at the paper stack he was fumbling with. “Anyone in particular?”
“Two or three. I know you aren’t best buds with Glenda. But how about Ross?”
“Ross is filled with extroverted charm. He’s public relations polite. A phony. He stays away from me.”
“Does he stay away from you because you call him a phony?” I inquired.
“We aren’t interested in the same things. I’m a chemist. And I have knowledge.
He’s a showman. People like him. But he hasn’t got a thing in his head.”
“I thought he was creative. You don’t like creative people?” I questioned.
“Is there anything they really do for the world?”
“I sing their music, view their paintings, and read their poems. I go to movies, theatre. I’d say they do a great deal for the world.”
His look up at me was definitely filled with arguments. But I’m pretty sure he didn’t count me high enough in the fine art’s food chain to explain it. “I’m a busy man. I don’t have time for this banter.”
“Lastly, on my list. Do you socialize with Drew?”
He looked bewildered. “Drew?”
“The gardener.”
“The gaunt angry man outside?” Before I could answer, he said, “I don’t hang out with any of the outside help.”
I gave a nod to the gaunt, angry man sitting at his desk. “Do you spend great sums of money?”
“What?”
I’d hit a nerve. “Do you have expensive tastes that consumes your fortune.”
“I have no fortune. Remember, Wendell Perrault hoodwinked me out of my share of this company. I spent the pittance he gave me for my share of this company.”
“So, you’re like the rest of us, living hand to mouth?”
“My finances are not your concern. The Perrault’s have taken my entire treasury.”
“I find that you have such an interesting personality disorder. Maybe it’s a love/hate disorder. Why would you stay on working for people you hate?”
He slammed the papers on his desk. “Leave, or I’ll call security.”
“I am security.”
I hadn’t put fist-fighting this strange, out of shape man on my agenda. I left willingly, allowing him to stay upright. I did, however mention that I’d be back.
Walking to my convertible, I conceded it could have gone a lot better. But then, I was greatly appreciative of the fact that he didn’t have a letter opener handy. I popped two lemon drops into my mouth. Immediately, I bit into one. Spurts of lemon tasted magnificent.
I rested in the driver’s seat of my car only long enough to return Evan’s call. It was amazingly good to hear her mellow voice. She had wanted to be sure I told Lefty ‘hi’ for her, since Rachel had told her that he was on my contact list today.
“I’m bringing him a take-along to eat,” I reported. “I’m sure he misses Pixy. They spent a great deal of time together. I’m glad Pixy had him to see her home.”
“Well, tell him hello. Beryl, I miss you.”
Swallowing, I answered, “I miss you too. Another time, another place. I think we would have been very good together.”
“We had a little chemistry. But Beryl, I don’t think we’d make one another permanent. We’re in different hemispheres on the romance globe. It’s as if our love was destined to stay on the ground floor.”
“Shouldn’t you have used an ocean metaphor, Professor?”
Her laugh knocked me out. Putting our laughs together was rather like braiding good joy. “I’m sure I can come up with a little verse for you.”
“I do hope that we see one another again.” I grappled with showing too much emotion. “I’ll call you later this evening, if it’s okay?” I questioned.
“I invite all your calls,” she teased. “I’ve been meaning to mention something. You know Lefty and Pixy were good friends. Some camaraderie. When they were together, it brought out trust in one another. He wouldn’t have harmed her.”
“Evan, I don’t think he killed her. I’m not really going to see him to interrogate him. And by the way, he thinks you should also be excluded.”
“I didn’t know I was included as a suspect.”
“You weren’t really,” I shared. “I think investigating you and Lefty would be a waste of time. I just want to drop in on him.”
“Beryl, I’m glad we can talk. I do miss you. I’ll be waiting for your call tonight.”
“Adorable woman, I’ll talk with you later.” I hadn’t wanted to be sweet on Evan. But somehow it seemed that I was getting sweeter on her. I went to a speedy drive-through to pick up sandwiches for Lefty and me. I purchased the two meals that I liked most. I’d offer him his choice, and take the one left behind.
I was, admittedly hungry. And also, I confessed to myself, I was thinking about my feelings for Evan. I considered this emotion as I drove to The Ghost. I should have been sorting out what I planned to ask Lefty. Talking with Lefty was more a matter of just allowing him to open up and chat. Zeroing in was not an investigative technique that worked with him.
When he smiled, and waved, I realized that he was actually happy to see me. Many folks consider a detective intrusive. Of course, that was my job. Being intrusive.
“Hi,” he called from his houseboat. He waved me aboard.
Lifting the sacks, I yelled, “Your choice. One is a lobster roll, the other is a shrimp salad.”
“Me and shrimp have always had a love affair goin’ on,” he said with a laugh.
I handed him the shrimp sandwich. “No questions today.” I sat. He went to get me a beer. When he handed it to me, I thanked him. “I’ll bring you some beer next time I stop by.”
“I never turn down suds,” he said with a laugh. “But you don’t have to do that. You brought a nice lunch.”
“I’ve been thinking about Pixy. I want to know her name, so that there is something to put on her headstone. I’m at a complete standstill. There’s nothing on any missing person’s list.”
“Wish I could help. I told you all I could about the woman that bought the boat. And I never seen anyone else from her past. But then, I don’t see many from my past. Less as the years go along.”
“We do have the identity of the young men that harassed her.”
“It was more than just bugging her. That one guy roughed her up a couple times. I thought maybe they were robbing her. Getting off with her takings for the day. But Pixy started to put her money in two places of her clothing. So’s they wouldn’t take it all, I guess. Them fellas musta figured she was easy pickings.”
“While we can’t be sure about the guys, I have a hunch they did it. And I’m even more certain that they were responsible for the bomb that nearly killed Evan.”
“Evan is good people.” He shut his eyes a moment. There was a bleakness to them when his lids lifted. “I’m glad that she’s gone off to her home. Away from danger.”
“I’m glad she’s safe.”
“She was pretty adventuresome. Diving down deep, snorkeling. But I think her daddy knew it was just too chancy. Glad she listened.”
“Everyone has certain fears. What was Pixy’s fear?”
Hesitating, he muttered, “I don’t rightly know.” Then as if some rapid transmission of thought struck him, he said, “I do recall. Heights. See those rocks over there on the coast line? I remember one time Pixy and I were walking and I tried to climb up on a couple of them. She wouldn’t follow me. It terrified her. I mean, she’s usually doin’ somersaults and contortions in the air, but she wouldn’t climb up. I thought that was strange.”
“Evan said that she watched that cartoon show. And when Ripple the Seahorse did a flip, she would point to herself. She could do flips, but always on the ground. Never high.”
“Never high.”
I waded up the sack from the sandwich and chips. Glancing at my watch, I realized that I wanted to think. These murders were filled with their own dichotomies. What was left of the afternoon, I would use to pile information together. Thinking was like skipping. I felt like I was going somewhere, but as I went, I was also passing over the clues I needed.
I said my goodbye to Lefty. I hastily drove to the shore where Pixy often looked for shells. And where she’d sold me shells.
After parking, I took my shoes off. Walking along the shore, I gazed at a spot where Pixy and I had sat for a very long time once. She’d done a handstand, and when she dropped, I got up and went to her side. I th
ought she was hurt, but she waved me away. She had then held up her arms, showing muscle, as if she was a bodybuilder showing off her ripped upper arms.
She had grinned at my concern. We sat, watching the ocean drag and flop waves. I felt discomfort sometimes, because I wasn’t sure how much of what I said to her was being understood. I recalled wishing I could have really talked with her, understood her. But on that sunny day, we had just sat there together.
Perhaps that was one of the best conversation I had ever truly had with another human being. Words hadn’t gotten in our way. Listening was a connection with nature. The ocean’s breaking surf often roars. Sometimes it whispers as it caresses the golden sands. Sounds of seagulls honked through the sky. Birds swooped, drenching their feathers as they attacked fish.
Pixy and I inhaled the memorable mist of the sea. We walked on the squishy sands of the beach. The clouds were gently filling a portion of the sky. The sands, sky, and the sea produced an enormous wonder.
I’d never asked her for her friendship. For whatever reason, there was no need.
Some luxuries don’t require a name.
And now, the remainder of the afternoon and evening were spent in solitude. Both Rachel and Summer understood my requirement for being alone at certain times.
All evening Hanna insisted on an attempt to cure me of my silence.
After dinner, she followed me into the office while I made notations on various files. She explained that Rachel was feeling pain, so she was heavily medicated and sleeping like a log. She claimed she wanted to get to know me better. I quashed that idea quickly, telling her I was too busy for chitchat. She made a hasty retreat, leaving me to my isolation.
She wouldn’t have understood my invisible soul any more than she understood my rudeness.
Chapter 14
When I woke, I noticed that the doctor had cleared out early. That left Summer, Rachel, and me to have a confab about Pixy’s case. I was discouraged because of all the dead-ends.