The Harry Starke Series: Books 7-9 (The Harry Starke Series Boxed Set Book 3)

by Blair Howard

  He looked down, shaking his head. “I don’t have an alibi, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Fine, but where were you?”

  “I was with… I was….” He sighed. “I went for a run. I needed to be alone, to take some time to think…. I’d talked to her early that morning, from the balcony. It must have been around ten, maybe a little later. She said she wasn’t going to see me anymore. We argued. She wouldn’t listen. I didn’t know what to do…. I walked for miles. I walked the golf course, to the ninth green, and from there to the beach, and then I followed the shore until…. I don’t know. When I came back, the police were here. You were here. I couldn’t believe she was… that she was… dead.”

  “Why don’t you go clean yourself up before someone sees you?” I said. “But stay close. We may need to talk to you again.”

  He stood slowly, nodded twice, and then turned and walked to the door, his shoulders slumped forward, like an old man. I kinda felt sorry for him.

  “Okay,” I said, when the door had closed behind him. “Unless he’s one hell of an actor, I’m inclined to believe him: I don’t think he did it. What do you think?”

  “I think he’s a hell of an actor,” Bob said. “What the hell else is he going to say but ‘I didn’t kill her’? She told him she was going to dump him. He went around to talk to her, lost his temper, and smacked her over the head. He thinks he’s killed her. He tosses her off the balcony to make it look like she killed herself. No, we can’t rule him out; not yet.”

  “Kate?” I asked.

  “Come on, Harry. I can’t believe you’re taking him at his word. You know better. We’ve seen them all. They’re all believable until they get caught. He’s no different. How many times have you told me that we’re not in the business of taking anyone’s word for anything? I’m not going to say he did it, but I don’t think we can rule him out.”

  I nodded, slowly, thinking. She was right, but that old instinct of mine had kicked in, and I was fairly sure he was telling the truth.

  “Okay. We’ll set judgment on him aside, for now. Let’s get his good wife in here and see what she has to say.”

  Chapter 15

  Monday November 14 10:30am

  Tommy was right. This was indeed an unusual family, about as dysfunctional a bunch as I’d ever run across. The kids were spoiled beyond recovery and the in-laws were a bunch of predatory gold diggers, but Alicia Margolis broke the mold.

  Like the other women in the family, she was good looking. At thirty-five, she was five years older than her husband. I say she was good looking, but her age and long hours in the sun were beginning to take their toll. Dressed in white shorts, a white blouse, and white tennis shoes, she was about five foot eight, slim, busty, with a heart-shaped face, a nose that was slightly too large, and a pair of wide blue eyes, all surrounded by a halo of dark red hair, the color of which could only have come out of a bottle, and probably cost the Earth.

  “Sit down, Mrs. Margolis,” I said. “Thank you for agreeing to talk to us.”

  “As if I had any damn choice,” she snapped. Her voice was low, and in any other circumstance would have been her most attractive quality. Here, however, it was tinged with overtones that bordered on contempt. “And what have you been saying to my husband? He charged into the dining room as if the devil were after him. White as damned sheet. Frightened to death. Have you been accusing him of something?”

  I leaned back in my chair and looked at Bob. He nodded and turned to look at her.

  “We’re not accusing him of anything, exactly,” I said. “We were just questioning him about his affair with Gabrielle.”

  If I was expecting a response, it wasn’t the one I got.

  She snorted. “Is that all?”

  I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. She folded her arms and stared across the desk at me.

  “You knew about it?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

  “Of course I did. D’you think I’m blind? I know Jeffery does. Silly little man.”

  “And you didn’t confront him?” Kate asked.

  “Why would I? If I had, he probably would have stopped. As it was, while he was screwing her, at least he wasn’t bothering me. And anyway, I really didn’t see any harm in it.”

  “By that,” I said dryly, “I have to assume that you had something of your own going?”

  “Assume all you want.”

  I looked at Bob. He gave a slight shake of his head. He seemed as dumbfounded as I was. I decided to take the direct approach.

  “Mrs. Margolis. Are you having an illicit sexual affair?”

  At that, she burst out laughing. She shook her head, smiled sideways at me. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  “Am I screwing someone other than my husband, do you mean? Yes.”

  “And who would that be?”

  “None of your damned business,” she snapped.

  “One of the family?” I watched her closely. And there it was: her eyes flicked away from mine for just a split second; the slight pause before she replied was barely perceptible, but it too was there.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. But it was too late. Bob had caught it too.

  “So who is it?” I asked, again watching her closely. “Michael, Leo Jr., Evander… no? How about Caspian… Moore… Jackson?” She smiled and said nothing. And then I had an epiphany. I remembered what Tommy had said earlier, about her being out on the golf course.

  “How about….” I paused, smiled. “How about… Georgina?”

  The smile left her face, but in an instant it was back. There was no humor in it. I had her, and she knew it.

  “So,” I continued. “You’re gay, gay or bi. And you’re having a fling with Georgina. Does your husband know you’re a switch hitter?”

  “Hah,” she said. “You have it all wrong. I’m not gay and I don’t have flings.”

  “So it’s serious then, your affair with Georgina?”

  She didn’t answer. I knew right then that she wasn’t going to say another word on the subject, so I changed it.

  “Where were you between noon and two o’clock on Saturday?” I already knew, but I asked anyway.

  She sighed, looked down at her hands clasped together in her lap, then looked up and said, defiantly, “I was with Georgina, on the golf course. You can check with her.”

  “Did you kill Gabrielle?”

  She looked me right in the eye. “No, I did not.”

  “Do you know who did?”

  “No, I do not!”

  Was that a hesitation?

  “How about your mother, Mrs. Martan?”

  “Are you out of your mind? Of course not!”

  I smiled at her and said, “That will be all, Mrs. Margolis. You can leave now but, as they say in the movies, don’t leave town.”

  Well, I thought it was funny, even if she didn’t. Whatever. The room shook as she slammed the door on her way out.

  “Damn,” Bob said. “Who would have thought it?”

  I shook my head. I was surprised, but I shouldn’t have been. I’ve run across stranger things in my time, that’s for sure.

  “Weirder and weirder,” Kate said. “I’m not sure I can keep track of the mess, of who’s diddling who. Whew.”

  “Right, but did she do it?”

  “Hell. She could have,” Bob said. “Maybe she was pissed that her husband was screwing her stepsister. That would be motive, and she has no alibi. Georgina could have helped her throw the girl over the balcony.”

  I looked at my watch. It was almost a quarter to eleven. I thought about Amanda. She’s probably out by the pool. I wish to hell I was.

  I sighed. “Let’s get Vivien in here. The sooner we finish these interviews, the sooner we can enjoy the afternoon.”

  I flipped the lock screen on my phone and called Vivien.

  Chapter 16

  Monday November 14, 10:45am

  “This is quite a family you have here, Mrs. Mar
tan,” I said as she took her seat in front of the desk. Once again, I was hoping to throw her off balance, but I was disappointed. A lady she was, in every sense of the word. Cool, haughty, even a little disdainful. She sat rigidly erect, chin up, her back not touching the chair, her legs crossed at the ankles, and her hands folded together in her lap.

  She was only forty-nine years old, and she looked barely thirty. Her blonde hair was styled short, much like Amanda’s. Her sleeveless black sheath dress must have cost a couple of grand, probably more. Whatever. It fit her perfectly.

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” she said. “I’m proud of them all, as is their father.”

  “I’m sure you are,” I said dryly. “Your daughter’s fooling around with your stepson’s girlfriend. Your son-in-law was having an affair with the victim, his sister-in-law. Leo Jr. is one step from federal prison, and God only knows what the rest of them are up to. Yes, you have a lot to be proud of, Mrs. Martan.”

  “Think what you will,” she replied. “They, all of them, are victims of their father’s lax outlook on parenting. He’s given them everything they ever wanted; not just his own children, mine too. Yes, they’re spoiled—”

  “Spoiled!” Kate was incredulous. “Spoiled? This is the single most dysfunctional family I’ve had the dubious pleasure of encountering in my entire career. Spoiled, you say? One of them is a killer!”

  Finally, a reaction. The color went out of Vivien’s face. Her eyes were ablaze with anger, but she took a deep breath and held it together. Her hands, though, were clasped tightly together; the knuckles were white.

  “Mr. Starke. I’m a busy woman. I have better thing to do than sit here while you and your colleagues insult me and my family. Would you please get on with this… this… farce, so that I can go about the rest of my day?”

  I nodded. “Alright. Did you know what was going on?” I already knew the answer, but I thought it was worth getting her denial on record. Her answer, though, was a surprise.

  “I knew that Jeffery was having an affair with Gabrielle, yes. I also know about Leo’s woes, but they will be resolved quite shortly. You don’t think for one minute that his father will let him go to prison, do you?” She paused for a moment, looked down, and seemed to be contemplating her fingers, which were now drumming against her thighs.

  She gave me a strange look, her head tilted to one side, the corners of her mouth turned down. I thought for a moment she was about to cry, but she didn’t.

  “And yes,” she said, resignation in her voice, “I’ve known about Alicia’s sexual preferences for a long time, since she was fourteen, in fact. She married Jeffery purely out of convention. She doesn’t love him. There will be no children. Georgina isn’t her first love, nor will she be her last, I’m sure.”

  The room was quiet. Inwardly, I was shaking my head. This poor woman is devastated. My God. How the hell does she cope with it all? Whoa. I had a sudden thought.

  “Was she… was Alicia in love with Gabrielle?” I asked in a low voice.

  The question didn’t faze her one bit. “No.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know my daughter. Gabrielle wasn’t her type. Gabrielle was a lazy, good-for-nothing slut, and didn’t care who knew it. Alicia’s preferences are exactly the opposite. Georgina is smart, discreet, attractive, and an athlete, as have been all of Alicia’s… friends.”

  I looked hard at her. “Did she kill Gabrielle?”

  That brought a smile to her face. “What am I supposed to say to that? Of course she didn’t. And even if I thought she did, I wouldn’t tell you, now would I?”

  I wasn’t sure, but I thought it was a little forced. I looked at Bob. Evidently he wasn’t convinced either, because the only reaction I got from him was a slight shrug.

  “Did you kill her?” Kate asked.

  “No!”

  I was watching her face for… anything that might indicate she was lying. I saw nothing. I glanced at Bob. He grimaced and shook his head, once.

  “You must have thought about it. Do you have any idea who might have?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No! Now. If that’s all….”

  “Just one more question, for the record, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Martan.”

  She stood facing me, a proud and beautiful woman by any standard.

  “Where were you between noon and two o’clock on Saturday?”

  “With my husband. We had lunch together at noon. We went for a short walk. Arrived back at the house just after one, and then retired for our afternoon nap. That usually only lasts for thirty minutes or so. My husband is a very busy man, as you well know. On Saturday we had been in our rooms for only ten minutes or so when Moore called him. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to leave.”

  “Thank you ma’am,” I said, and without another word she glided out of the room as if she were on a runway. Impressive, but also kind of pathetic. I almost felt sorry for her.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Kate said. “I guess we can finally cross someone off the list.”

  I nodded. “Yup. Who’s next? No, wait. I need a bathroom break and some coffee. Let’s go find some.”

  Chapter 17

  Monday November 14, 11am

  It seems coffee was something of a twenty-four-hour service at the Mount. The double BUNN brewer on the sideboard in the dining room had a full pot of decaf and another of regular, along with two plates of pastries. I went for the regular coffee and a cherry Danish, and so did Bob, but he took two pastries; Kate poured herself a cup of decaf—no food—and we took ourselves out onto the patio, where we were once again treated to the stunning views of the north side of Calypso Key.

  The golf course meandered all the way around the great house, then made a right and headed for the low line of hills that formed a backdrop for the great green ribbons and buttons that were the fairways and greens. It was a balmy day. The sky an unbroken field of azure. The palms that lined the fairways fluttered in the breeze, and there was not a soul on the course. I wish to hell I was out there. Maybe another day.

  We took seats around a small table, under a lime green sun umbrella, and for a quiet moment or two we did little more than stare out at the view, each coddling thoughts of our own. Me? My head was in a whirl. Already ideas were beginning to form, but until we’d finished the interviews I would have to let them cook. One thing I knew for sure: we were dealing with the family from hell.

  “Okay,” I said, finally breaking the silence. “We’ve only got a few minutes. I don’t want to be here all day. Do either of you have any thoughts about what we’ve seen and heard so far?”

  “I’m thinking that without any physical evidence, we’re going to have a tough time pinning it on anyone at all,” Kate said. I had to agree with her.

  “Bob?” I asked.

  He thought for a moment. “I like Leo Jr. for it. He has a hell of a motive. Either he gets his hands on some big money fast, or he’s in big trouble.”

  “He’s in big trouble regardless,” Kate said. “But his dad will bail him out, cover the losses. Vivien is right. He won’t let his eldest son go to jail.”

  “I agree,” I said, “but they all, with the exception of the Margolises and the staff, are in dire need of a robust injection of cash, even Carriere, the fiancé, and I don’t think we’ve seen it all yet.”

  “Uh-huh,” Kate said, “but if we’re considering motives: the Margolises might not need money, but they have plenty more going for them: jealousy and security for Alicia. If she thought Gabrielle was planning to dump Sebastian and take Jeffy-baby away from her, that would be motive enough, even if she is having an affair. These people don’t give up their riches and positions easily. As for Jeffery: if Gabby was about to dump him, a loss of temper would have been all it took for him to pick up the nearest heavy object and whack her over the head with it.”

  “I’m still liking Leo Jr. for it,” Bob said. “He’s a rabid son of a bitch, and then there’s his wi
fe, Lucy. What a piece of work she is, and everything you said, Kate, about the Margolises, works for that family too.”

  “Well,” I said, “According to Tom Quinn, we can rule out Caspian, and we’ve ruled out the mother… but the daughter, as you said, is iffy at best. Alicia. Hmmm. She has an alibi, but it’s tenuous to say the least, and the same can be said for Georgina; they alibi each other. And she’s a big strong girl, Georgina is. She could have helped Alicia tip Gabby off the balcony. Nope. We don’t have enough yet. We need to talk to the rest of the family. Evander, I have a feeling, will be just the same as the rest: dysfunctional to the bone. And the Collinses… more of the same, I shouldn’t wonder. Let’s get back. As I said, I want to get back to Amanda.”

  Bob, with a big cheesy grin on his face, said, “And I—”

  “Don’t even go there,” Kate said, but she was smiling all the same.

  Chapter 18

  Monday November 14, 11am

  Evander Martan sauntered into the office with a wide grin on his face and his hands in his pockets. He looked a lot like his older brother: same height, same brown hair, same blue eyes—and same receding hairline, despite being only twenty-eight.

  He was slimmer than Leo Jr., though, and I immediately got the idea, from the indolent way he carried himself, that he let very little worry him, let alone get him down. He was dressed in swim trunks at least two sizes too big and a T-shirt that proclaimed One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor. By the look of him I figured the saying was less a joke than the truth.

  “Hey y’all,” he said, in an affected Southern accent that left a lot to be desired. “What’s happenin’?”

  “Sit down, Mr. Martan,” I said, waving a hand at the chair in front of the desk.

  “Hey. Call me Evan, okay? Everybody does.”

  “Fine. Evan, then.” He sat—no, he sprawled. Legs out, arms folded, head cocked to one side, that silly smile still plastered across his face.