Murder among the Palms

by Jade Astor

  “You talked with Ange?” Argo asked Maurice. “Was she out on the patio with you?”

  “Alas, despite my best efforts, I failed to locate her. Shame. I could cut a rug pretty well in my day, you know. She would not have found my moves disappointing.”

  Theresa shook her head helplessly. “Time to get Daddy home, I think.”

  “Did you see where Ange went?” Argo asked her.

  “She said she needed some air. That was why Daddy wandered off after her.”

  “What about you?” Darian turned to Bodie, who patted his tie and looked vaguely embarrassed.

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t paying much attention. We were on our way back from the bar when she and Rikki…well, suffice to say they exchanged a few harsh words. I didn’t actually hear any details, mind you, as I thought it more diplomatic to move along and mind my own affairs. I’m sorry, Darian.”

  “It’s okay. Stuff happens.” Darian feigned nonchalance, though Bodie’s account of their apparent quarrel stung all the same. Then he noticed another missing member of the group. “Where’s Iris? Did she leave the room with Mom?”

  “She may well have caught up to her,” Bodie said. “Her plan was to find Zara and offer our thanks and farewells. Getting late, you know. We don’t have the stamina we did when we were your age, Darian. Tend to be asleep by eleven o’clock these days, even if it’s not a school night.”

  “So she didn’t come back either?” Argo pressed.

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s—ah, here she comes now. Feel free to ask her yourself.” Bodie pointed to the restaurant door as Iris strolled through it. She looked unruffled, though Darian wasn’t sure if he should be relieved about that or not. Either she knew Ange was nearby and fine or she had no idea she was still missing.

  “Did you find Angela?” Bodie asked before either Darian or Argo had a chance to speak. “Darian is concerned about her. He may have good reason, considering how much she’d had to drink.”

  Iris shrugged. “I looked around, but I didn’t find her or Zara. Maybe Ange ran into Rikki and they’re off talking somewhere. Frankly, I think that would be a good idea.”

  “Why all this ruckus about Angela Winter?” Maurice demanded. “She’s a grown woman and, like me, can go where she pleases. Have the entire lot of you gone mad?”

  “We should check the patio for ourselves,” Darian suggested. “Maurice and Bodie didn’t walk all the way down to the beach, but she might have.”

  “We’ll help, of course,” Bodie said, “unless you need us here a while longer, Theresa.”

  “No, we’re fine. Like Daddy said before, we can call an Uber. I can get him into it on my own.”

  “She makes it sound as though she plans to carry me,” Maurice sniffed. “I would find that attempt most entertaining, young lady.”

  “Poor Maurice,” Bodie said after the four of them had said their goodnights and set off for the patio together. “Sobering to think that a similar fate could await any of us, though the prospect of mental oblivion has a certain appeal.” He smiled at Iris. “What say you, Professor of Psychology? Without memories and awareness, would we experience emotional pain?”

  “We might be better off to stick with those peppermint martinis,” Iris grumbled.

  They stepped through a set of French doors propped open to provide access to a large square enclosure facing the ocean. A dozen or so partygoers lingered around the perimeter, drinking and laughing. A few leaned against a metal railing festooned with lights and garlands, gazing out at the stars over the water. Ange was not among them.

  “I wonder where Zara went to,” Iris mused. “I checked everywhere and there was no sign of her, either.”

  “Probably run ragged, trying to keep everything on schedule,” Bodie chided. “Not easy to pull off a gathering of this size.”

  “True,” Iris said. “I’m sure the whole staff is relieved it’s almost over.”

  It occurred to Darian that he hadn’t seen Kyle since their brief conversation in the lobby, either. Presumably Carl had lost interest in causing trouble and had moved on, too. He would have no reason to hang around the beach harassing hotel guests who strayed from the festivities—at least Darian hoped not.

  Preoccupied with that disturbing thought, Darian started down the patio steps and almost crashed into someone scurrying up them. At first glance, the figure seemed about the size and shape of Ange.

  “Mom?” Darian’s body tensed in relief, only to sag when the safety lights illuminated a stranger’s face. “Oh, sorry.”

  The woman, who was about Ange’s age but barely resembled her, blinked up at him in annoyance. “Excuse me,” she muttered, lowering her head and pushing past him.

  On the beach, a large sign prohibited anyone, hotel guests included, from trespassing after dark. No one suggested that would have deterred Ange. All of them knew her too well. Then again, they had no intention of obeying the rule themselves.

  They split off into two teams and search in opposite directions. “We’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes,” he said. Darian marveled at how effortlessly he’d slipped back into sheriff mode, taking charge of the situation and giving everyone a useful task to perform. No doubt prevented a lot of people from lapsing into panic over the years, though Darian suspected he’d dealt mostly with parents tracking wayward children and not the other way around. “Hopefully one of us will spot her by then.”

  They set off together, walking briskly down the moonlit sand. On one side of their path, dark waves curled toward them, vaguely menacing in context. On the other, the silhouettes of palm trees and thatch-roofed cabanas stretched off into balmy darkness. Every now and then, Argo paused to check a shadowy area. Though Darian appreciated his diligence, it also unnerved him.

  “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Darian protested, maybe a little too strenuously. “My mom’s not the first person to have an extra cocktail or two and go off for a seaside ramble. She’s not some clueless tourist, either. She knows her way around a beach at night.”

  “No doubt.” Argo strode ahead without looking around him. Darian followed, dragging his feet through the sand, berating himself for letting his imagination run wild. Of course Ange was okay. Most likely she wasn’t on the beach at all. As he walked along, another, much less worrisome, possibility occurred to him.

  “Argo,” he called, hurrying to catch up, “maybe we’re wasting our time out here. I mean, who says Mom ever left the hotel? She wasn’t quite herself tonight, but there’s no reason to think—”

  Darian’s voice trailed off in mid-sentence when Argo froze.

  “What is it?” Darian asked, closing the distance between them. Before he could reach Argo’s side, Argo’s arm snapped up to block him.

  “Stay back,” he said, but Darian saw what Argo was trying to shield from him. An indistinct shape, roughly the same size as his mother, lay half-submerged in shallow water.

  “Mom!” Darian lunged past Argo’s outstretched arm. Argo started after him, trying and failing to pull him back.

  “Darian, wait. Let me check!”

  Ignoring him, Darian charged into the water. The current surged around his ankles, colder and stronger than he expected. Numb with shock, he straddled the body, grasping those unmoving shoulders. His fingers slipped on dark, wet fabric.

  A woman’s jacket. Black, probably silk. His mother’s was tan.

  Argo got there just as he turned her over. Darian stumbled backward into him.

  The words came out in a rush. “It’s not her. It’s not my mom.”

  “I know,” Argo said, steadying him. “It’s Gabrielle.”

  The tall detective who strode down the sand toward them looked younger than Darian expected. He also had frosted blond hair and a shirt, suit, and tie in coordinated pastel colors. Either this guy modeled himself after a 1980s cop show, or that show had been surprising close to reality.

  A crew of uniformed cops and forensics technicians came with him. They proceeded to
set up rows of floodlights that illuminated the beach as if it had been daylight. The rest took positions on and around the hotel patio, telling the growing crowd on it to stay back. Darian was too far away to make out any details, but he assumed Bodie and Iris were back there, along with Rikki and the other members of the Mermaid Towers staff. Had Ange turned up among the rubberneckers as well? He had no way of knowing.

  “I’m Lieutenant Stuart Lanislaw,” the stylish cop announced, flipping out a badge. Darian wondered if he practiced that move in front of a mirror. “I understand there’s been an accident. Who called 911?”

  “I did.” Argo moved toward the detective with his own wallet out. They spoke quietly, and Darian vaguely heard Argo introduce himself as a fellow law-enforcement pro. While he was explaining the situation, a woman in uniform approached and motioned for Lanislaw’s attention. Lanislaw turned to her just as a commotion erupted on the patio. Kyle came rushing toward them, flapping his arms as though he was trying to take flight. Two cops jogged behind him in pursuit.

  “Oh, my god, what’s happened?” Kyle wailed. “Someone told me Gabi drowned! Please, someone tell me it’s not true!”

  Lanislaw waved away the two cops chasing Kyle. They slowed and backed off with obvious disappointment. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “I’m Kyle, and I work with her. I’m also one of her closest friends. Where is she? Oh, Gabi! Gabi!” He started toward the medical team gathered around Gabrielle’s body.

  “Please stay where you are, sir. My staff is taking care of her.”

  “Maybe she just passed out in the water,” Kyle insisted. “Tell them to try and revive her!”

  “I’m afraid that won’t work, Kyle,” Argo said.

  “Sir!” someone called from the beach. Automatically, both Argo and Lanislaw pivoted toward the voice. The nearby unformed cops turned their flashlights in the same direction. One of the forensic technicians was wading out of the water, dangling an object from his rubber-gloved fingers. Darian gaped at the sight of a glistening, long-bladed knife someone had apparently tossed into the shallows. He’d seen one like it before. It resembled the set the kitchen staff had used at the party’s carving station.

  “Bag it,” Lanislaw shouted, while Kyle dissolved in tears.

  “Oh, no! Gabi was murdered, wasn’t she? I told her she was playing with fire. Darian, how could your mother do such a thing? She must have finally snapped!”

  Lanislaw’s brows shot into his carefully teased hairline. He reached into his tailored jacket for a leather-bound notebook and a silver pen. “Wait a minute. Slow down. Would you care to back up and explain what you’re talking about?”

  “He definitely wouldn’t.” Horrified, Darian inserted himself between Kyle and Lanislaw. “Kyle’s in shock. He doesn’t realize what he’s saying.”

  “You’re Darian, I assume.” Lanislaw remained icily calm. He touched the point of his pen to his notebook, ready to take down any and all incriminating details. “Let’s take it from the top. What’s this about your mother?”

  “Nothing,” Darian insisted, but Kyle babbled on.

  “Everyone at the hotel knows about it. Darian’s other mom, Rikki, was having a fling with Gabrielle. That was why Ange came out here in the first place. She saw them together, blew her top at the bar, and stormed out of the party. All I can think is that Gabi went after her, maybe to have it out once and for all. If only we had stopped her!”

  “Kyle, that’s not what happened and you know it,” Argo said, flashing him a look that said “shut up” more clearly than if he’d said it in words.

  Lanislaw ignored him. “So there was a love triangle?” he went on, writing quickly. “You saw the victim and this man’s mother leave the hotel together and walk out here to the beach?”

  “Well, no,” Kyle admitted. “But that’s the obvious conclusion. What else are we supposed to think? That Gabi grabbed a knife from the buffet, carried it out all the way here, then tripped and fell on it?”

  “We don’t know what happened, actually,” Argo reminded him. “Everything you said is innuendo and gossip, nothing more. You have no proof for any of that, do you, Kyle?”

  With an exasperated sigh, Lanislaw put down his notebook and turned toward Argo. “Excuse me, buddy. I appreciate the help, but I’d prefer it if you backed off and let me handle this.”

  “Go and find Rikki Winter on the patio,” Kyle demanded, his face twisting into a smug expression Darian wanted to punch. “I’m sure she’s with the others. She’ll tell you everything. Rumor has it she was planning to leave Ange—that’s Darian’s other mom—and go in halfsies on the hotel with Gabrielle. Quite a motive, wouldn’t you say, Detective? Love, jealousy, and money—lots of money, if you want to know the truth. Doesn’t it always come down to one or all of those things?”

  “In a lot of cases, yes,” Lanislaw admitted.

  “But not in this one,” Darian nearly shouted. Seeming not to hear him, Lanislaw called over one of his uniformed officers and told him to locate Rikki. The officer nodded and set off for the patio. “Hey! Are you even listening to me?”

  “Don’t worry. I have every intention of taking a statement from everyone present tonight. For now, please remain calm so we can sort through all this. Right now I need to get a picture of what happened.” Lanislaw glanced over to where his forensics team was snapping photographs of Gabrielle. “Obviously, I’ll need to speak to your mother, sir. Do you know where she is right now?”

  “Actually, no,” Argo answered on Darian’s behalf. “We came out here to search for her. We found Gabrielle instead.”

  “Ah. So you also had reason to believe his mother might have accompanied the victim here.”

  “No! No reason at all,” Darian said. “We had no idea Gabrielle was on the beach. We assumed she was still at the party—in the kitchen or somewhere.”

  “So the two of them could have been together.” Lanislaw jotted that down, too. His little nod of satisfaction made Darian want to knock the shiny little pen out of his hand. Then a better idea occurred to him.

  “Actually, I have a pretty good suspect for you to check out. His name is Carl, and he threatened Gabrielle at least twice in front of witnesses. In fact, she fired him from the hotel staff and had him thrown out of the party earlier tonight. Kyle knows all about that, too, since he was the one who chased Carl out of the lobby. I guess it slipped his mind in all the confusion.”

  “Is this true?”

  “I didn’t actually see the incident in question,” Kyle said, shrugging, “but yes, I asked Carl to leave the premises. As far as I know, he took off hours ago.”

  “But he could have come back,” Darian said. “Or hung around on the beach, watching. Maybe Gabrielle saw him loitering and went out to confront him.”

  “Interesting.” To Darian’s relief, Lanislaw’s pen started moving again. “Do you have a last name for this Carl?”

  “I don’t,” Darian said, “but he was an employee of the hotel until tonight. They’ll have that information in the records.” He gestured toward Kyle, who merely shrugged and offered nothing. It took great effort on Darian’s part not to bare his teeth in anger. Kyle had no qualms offering up his mother as a murder suspect, apparently, but drew the line at ratting out a co-worker. That Kyle considered Carl attractive surely didn’t factor into his reluctance at all.

  “Darian’s right,” Argo spoke up, which made Darian want to go over and hug him. “Carl made quite a scene in the hotel restaurant and even caused some property damage. Everyone in the room at the time saw it.”

  “Okay. That’s another good lead I’ll be sure to check into,” Lanislaw said. He looked up expectantly, but kept his pen and notebook ready, as one of the uniformed cops escorted Rikki toward them. Her eyes wide with shock, she rushed over to hug Darian.

  “I’m so sorry this has happened to you again,” she said.

  “Again?” Lanislaw echoed. “What do you mean by that, ma’am?”

  Rikki
turned to him, startled, as though she hadn’t realized he could hear them. Once again, Kyle was happy to fill in the gap. His devastation over Gabrielle’s death vanished, replaced with something resembling glee at being a font of so much useful information.

  “She means Darian’s found dead bodies before,” he chirped. “Quite a few of them, in fact. He’s even been a suspect in a couple of murders himself. Interesting family, aren’t they?”

  Chapter 7

  “I hate this,” Darian grumbled, drumming his fingers on his empty coffee cup. “We ought to be looking for Mom.”

  They were back in the hotel restaurant, where the cops had parked all the potential witnesses until they could take statements. Darian and Argo were at a table by themselves, with one of Lanislaw’s minions hovering close enough to hear every word they said. Argo glanced over his shoulder before responding in a near-whisper. “Actually, I think we’re better off letting the cops handle it. They have resources we don’t.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Darian conceded, taking comfort in the idea of cops and hotel security people searching every corner, hallway, and empty room for Ange. At least Zara had turned up on another floor of the hotel, claiming she’d been showing Gerald Lampson to his suite and appearing none the worse for wear. Darian assumed the cops had verified her story, though privately he wondered what the nature of her assistance had been. Somehow, she had managed to miss all the excitement and appeared genuinely stunned by the news of Gabrielle’s death. He stole a glance at Bodie and Iris, seated with their daughter at another table. The three of them were drinking the coffee Rikki’s staff had provided, apparently following the cops’ proscription against talking. Theresa and Maurice had managed to get away just in time. Everyone else was on lockdown while the police coordinated all their stories and alibis. “Do you think Lanislaw’s still talking to Rikki? Seems like she’s been with him for hours.”

  “He’ll want a detailed statement from her. It could take a while. Try not to worry.” Argo, who was still scanning the room, focused on something behind Darian and scowled. “Don’t look now, but another concerned citizen is about to share some insights, whether we want to hear them or not.”