A Tango Before Dying

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “You don’t need to worry about that now. Once you’re sure you’ve put a safety net in place for yourself, there are lots of ways in which you can use her gift to pay tribute to your godmother. Let’s go work off some stress and then we’ve got steaks to buy before Jack and our new house guest arrive.”

  “Sure, I still have to call Charlotte’s sister and her niece. I need to tell them about her death. They need to contact Dennis because she left money in her Will for them, too.” She stood up, and then made another point. “There is one other weird thing going on. A lawyer contacted Dennis recently making a bizarre claim to her estate in the event of her death.”

  “No! Did Dennis tell you who filed the claim?”

  “No, but he’s sure it’s fraudulent or a mistake since it’s based on the idea that my godmother and Kevin are still married. That’s impossible since Charlotte told me more than once that she’d been single her whole life! Charlotte reassured Dennis that she’d never married Kevin or anyone else when that letter arrived. Screwy, huh?”

  “Not any screwier than the other stuff going on around here.”

  “Well, Dennis said the lawyer who filed the claim is a well-known huckster who’s been threatened with disbarment by the county Bar Association. He told me not to give it a second thought.”

  “It certainly doesn’t make any sense, does it?” I wracked my brain as I grabbed my purse and keys. Even if Charlotte and Kevin were married, I don’t see how anyone could have a claim on her estate other than the man alleged to be her husband. Then my stomach twisted into a knot—unless he died too. In that case, the money would pass to Kevin’s heirs.

  Did that include his grandson as well as his son? I wondered as I tried to figure out who could have worked out such a scheme—unless the person the disreputable lawyer represented was Carter Whitley.

  16 Matrimonial Missteps

  “Who told you that? I was married—more than once—but never to Charlotte. It’s not for lack of effort on my part. I tried again yesterday, in fact. If she’d taken me up on the offer instead of booting me out of there, she might still be alive. I would have called for help immediately, and someone might have been able to save her!” Tears filled his eyes. I handed him a cup of water and a tissue from a cart nearby. I didn’t want to be insensitive, but another question weighed on my mind.

  “Kevin, if something were to happen to you, who’d inherit your estate?”

  “Estate? That’s a good one! I don’t have much to pass on. I own my condo in Arizona, and I’ve saved a few dollars that will be split between my son and Carter.” Then he paused. “You don’t believe Carter’s the one who hit me, do you?”

  “It doesn’t appear that he was anywhere near there at the time,” Jack said in a reassuring way. I wondered if he was as certain as he sounded about Carter’s whereabouts. I’d been so concerned about Brett, Natalie, and the mysterious woman in the video, that I hadn’t asked where Carter was when Kevin was attacked. Surely, both Julie and Jack would have made it a priority to check him out.

  “Thanks! It’s too bad we can’t break out the bourbon and share a glass. The nurses would be on me like a pack of wild dogs on a bone if we opened it. I appreciate the gift—the WBDA sent me flowers.”

  “We took a chance that you’d enjoy it since there was an open bottle and an empty glass in Charlotte’s suite. Her goddaughter says she detested bourbon and you’re a fan—of this brand especially.”

  “That’s all true. Disagreement about the pleasure derived from a great bourbon was only one of the differences we never resolved. Charlotte was the stubbornest woman I met in my entire life! I never could read her well, either. Years ago, when she turned down my marriage proposal, I thought it was something about me or that there was another man in her life. When she didn’t marry, I figured she was taking longer than most women to settle down.” Then he laughed. “I didn’t think she’d still be that way in her sixties.”

  “Carol says her godmother loved you,” I offered.

  “I believe her. I guess that’s how I got up the guts to ask her to marry me again. When she agreed to our reunion, I bought a set of rings. After rehearsal went so well, I convinced myself she’d finally say yes.”

  “A set of rings?” I asked. “Are you saying there was another one besides the plain band Katrina Milan threw at you?”

  “She told you about that, huh? Katrina’s another woman who’s hard to understand. I had the engagement ring with me and left the wedding band in my dressing room. She found it, had a fit, and threw it at me. Katrina’s got a new man in her life, so who knows why that bothered her?”

  “My wife tells me just because a woman has a new boyfriend doesn’t take an old one off the hook.” Kevin laughed again.

  “Maybe that’s it. Katrina and I were engaged once, but ended it amicably. We both came to our senses before I could make another matrimonial misstep. I’ve made too many serious missteps in my lifetime. I suppose that’s why I have a hard time telling Carter to get it together or else. His life has been rough, thanks to the big mistake I made when I married his grandmother.”

  “Sometimes it takes us decades to find our soulmate. We all make mistakes, including matrimonial missteps.” Jack, who’d made a matrimonial misstep of his own, made that comment with great sincerity.

  “I thought I’d found mine, but Charlotte said no again. I’ve paid dearly for my missteps for decades. The first woman I married was a wonderful dancer but a horrible wife and mother. She was in and out of trouble. When our son, Raymond, was born, she seemed to calm down for a while, but after the birth of our daughter she got worse.”

  “May I ask what kind of trouble?”

  “There were other men, almost as soon as we were married. She was nasty when she drank too much and spent money like it came out of the faucet in the kitchen. Those are many of the same problems that keep getting Carter into trouble. That’s the main reason he’s been unable to find gainful employment anywhere other than in my dance studio which I keep open on a wing and a prayer. My first wife never had a job in her life. Not that her life was a very long one.” He paused for a moment as if he’d sunk into a big deep hole. “She killed herself when my son and daughter were still only toddlers. That’s when I hung up my dance shoes and went to work selling shoes instead. There was a strange irony in that, but it paid the bills.”

  “It sounds like it also made it possible for you to raise your children,” I offered.

  “I tried. My son turned out all right, but his sister was a carbon copy of my wife. When Marie started to act out, I took her to doctors right away. They diagnosed her with bipolar disorder and prescribed several different meds for her while she was still in high school. Sometimes she’d be stable for a few months, like her mother, and then she’d go bonkers again. She was only seventeen when Carter was born.”

  “Carter is your daughter’s son?” Jack asked.

  “Yes. If you’re surprised because we share the same last name, I can explain. Marie wasn’t married when Carter was born, so she put the family name on his birth certificate. She seemed happier than I’d ever seen her. Marie never went back to high school, but she earned her GED and enrolled in a community college. When Carter was two—almost three—something happened. She took off, and I never saw her again, although I searched for her for a while. I gave up when one of her roommates told the private investigator I hired that she died from a drug overdose. My son and his wife took Carter into their home soon after Marie disappeared. They adopted him as soon as the courts allowed and raised him as their child. In his teens, he started to ask questions about early memories of a woman named Marie. I’m not sure what they told him about his mother, but finding out that he was adopted changed him. It’s been nonstop trouble since then. When he turned eighteen, they sent him to Arizona to live with me.”

  “Have you had him evaluated for bipolar disorder?” I asked. “Maybe that’s what changed him rather than learning that he was adopted by his uncle.”


  “Yes, he was evaluated and started treatment while he was still living with my son. He seems to have inherited the cursed disorder, although his doc said he was still so young at the time, it was hard to know for certain. I knew. It was déjà vu for me after what I’d gone through with my wife and my daughter. It doesn’t matter now since Carter won’t take the medications. He tried them and didn’t like the way he felt. Then, he read on the Internet about bipolar disorder and learned that he might need the drugs all his life. After that, he said no way was he going to become a drug addict. So, he’s become an intermittent drunk instead. The booze at my house is off limits which means he’s got to go somewhere else when he drinks, and I don’t have to watch.”

  “It’s too bad there’s so much confusion about the difference between addiction and the use of medications for mental health problems. The side effects are no joke, though,” I said. Kevin nodded.

  “There are side effects to any drug—even the ones sold over the counter in grocery stores. Wait until he’s an old man like me. I keep all the pills I take neatly stowed in containers marked with the day and time, so I don’t accidentally take my morning pill which interferes with my nighttime pill.” He looked at me and then at Jack. “Wait another ten years, you’ll get it. I tried to tell him that taking drugs didn’t make him an addict as long as he took them the way they were prescribed. I’m drug dependent on insulin. I’d be dead without it.”

  “I understand,” Jack responded.

  “Fortunately, other people do, too. Collin Richards was a big help when my med kit disappeared before it got to my room.” I tried to conceal my surprise and speak in a calm voice.

  “When you say ‘kit,’ what do you mean?”

  “It’s a black zipper bag almost like a shaving kit. I use it for the needles and insulin I always keep with me. It must have fallen off the luggage rack on the way up to my room, or maybe some thief stole it from me at the airport, but I don’t think I took it out to give myself a shot until I was heading for the hotel shuttle.”

  My head was spinning, as my brain tried to process about a dozen different issues at the same time. It couldn’t be a coincidence that his supplies went missing hours before Charlotte died at the hands of an assailant wielding a hypodermic needle loaded with insulin. How much insulin was in that bag? If someone used all of it, would it have been enough to qualify as the massive overdose the ME reported? Jack’s mind must have been far more orderly than mine was because he asked a coherent question.

  “Airport? You didn’t drive here from Arizona?”

  “Not me. Carter did. My grandson called me while I was waiting for my plane. When he said he was going to be late, I told him it was too bad. If he missed the plane, he could stay home or walk. When he showed up at rehearsal, Carter told me he’d driven instead. He hasn’t totaled my car, has he or sold it for a few hundred bucks to play cards or buy booze?”

  My mind raced ahead again. The killer must have known he’d have that kit with him. Who could that have been, other than Carter? Carter showed up for the rehearsal not long after Kevin arrived at the hotel. Could Carter have arrived before his grandfather, waited in the lobby, and stolen the drugs without his grandfather seeing him do it? If Carter was the thief, he must have taken the drugs before Charlotte lectured him about badmouthing his grandfather. If that was true, murdering her wouldn’t have been an impulsive act because she’d angered him at rehearsal. Still, he was nowhere to be seen on the surveillance video. Jack’s voice broke me free of my reverie.

  “No, nothing’s wrong with your car. Carter was driving it this morning when he came to see me.” Kevin eyed Jack.

  “I can tell there’s more to the story. I suppose I should hear it while I’m in a hospital where I can be resuscitated if my heart gives out like Charlotte’s did. I’d rather wait until I’m out of here, with a glass of that in my hand.” He pointed at the bottle of bourbon we’d brought for him as a get-well gift. Now that I knew at least some of Carter’s problems were alcohol-related, I felt bad about it. Jack and I exchanged glances.

  “What? Detective Spencer told me Charlotte died from cardiac arrest.”

  “That’s true,” Jack said, and then paused, perhaps not sure what more to say. I was.

  “The detective must have told you that when she visited you last night, or did you already know by then?” I asked.

  “Yes, she did. I’m glad they had me doped up or I might have had a heart attack when I heard the awful news.”

  “I can understand it must have been a shock—Carter, too.” Kevin had a bewildered expression on his face.

  “Of course, it was—for me, anyway. Carter was gone by then since I’d begged him to fill in for me at the gala.” He paused for a moment as the bewildered expression fled. “He knew, didn’t he? I wondered why he was so evasive about his conversation with Carol. She told him and he didn’t want to kill me by telling me about it in my condition, huh?”

  “I guess so,” I said, feeling a little guilty. My attempt to discover that Carter had told Kevin about Charlotte’s death before he heard about it from Julie Spencer was wrong. I hoped Carter had been feigning ignorance about Charlotte’s death when he spoke to Carol and acted surprised by the news.

  “Have you remembered anything else about who hit you?” Jack asked.

  “Not really. The last thing I remember is Katrina storming off after she threw the ring at me. I dodged it, turned around, took a step forward, and bam! The lights went out.”

  “Before you had that confrontation with Katrina, did you see anyone standing around holding onto a pair of character shoes?”

  “No. Why does that matter?”

  “We don’t know for sure, but a shoe could be the weapon used to hit you on the head.”

  “Given how quickly that happened after Katrina stormed off, whoever did it had to be close.”

  “I heard the elevator ping right before the door slammed shut, so maybe someone on it came after me.”

  “The door to the stairwell closed before someone hit you?”

  “Yes. When I stepped forward, I let go of the door. I’d been holding it open while having that chat with Katrina.” He stared at us again. “There was someone waiting for me in the stairwell, wasn’t there? Who? How?”

  “We’re hoping you can tell us that. Who knew you’d be on those stairs?”

  “I can’t say for sure. I’d been up and down them a couple of times because I was acting as the go-between for Katrina with Glenda Hislop. They didn’t hit it off too well. I’ve known Glenda and many of the other WBDA leaders for a long time. Even when I quit competing, I still went to events around the country. I’ve tangoed with a few of them, figuratively and literally, over the years. It was easier and quicker to use those stairs than to wait for the elevator. Anybody on either floor could have seen me or followed me like Katrina must have done. Have you talked to Bettie Cummings? She might know who was roaming around since she signed in everyone and gave them their program materials and badges.”

  “Detective Spencer may already have tracked her down today, but I’m still waiting for someone from the Dance Association to contact me. Since we’re poking around unofficially, I don’t expect to get the same response that LAPD will get.”

  “Tell anyone you speak to at the WBDA that Kevin Whitley sent you, maybe that’ll speed things up.”

  “When the police interview you again, be sure you mention that Bettie was around at the time you were assaulted. They’ll want to hear about your visit to Charlotte’s suite and the missing insulin, too.”

  “And, that whoever attacked you was waiting in the stairwell,” I added. Kevin frowned and appeared ready to ask Jack a question when the door to his hospital room flew open. We all jumped. I yelped again! It had been a long day.

  17 Tricky Moves

  “How’s it going, Mr. Whitley? I’m Detective Spencer. Do you remember speaking to me last night?” If we hadn’t been ready to say goodbye, our visit would have
ended anyway. Julie and her sidekick swept into the room and the detective eyed us as she spoke to Kevin.

  “Good grief, I wasn’t that out of it, was I?”

  “Just checking. In the incident report we have, Dr. Vincent says you were out cold from a hit on the head when the EMTs found you. Your nurse also told us they put you on heavy-duty painkillers before and after they set your leg. I doubt I would have remembered Santa Claus had paid me a visit if he’d dropped by under similar circumstances.”

  “I never forget a pretty face, even when it’s paired with a badge.” Julie ignored his comment and changed the subject.

  “I see you have visitors.”

  “Emissaries from Marvelous Marley World. They came bearing gifts just like Santa,” Kevin said, pointing at the bottle of bourbon. “What did you bring me?”

  “That’s a nice gift. My gift is news for you, although it’s not all very cheery. I hope you’re up for the challenge of answering a few questions that might help us track down the person who assaulted you.”

  “No problem. I already talked to Georgie and Jack about it. Maybe they can tell you what you want to know.” Julie didn’t respond to his suggestion.

  “I’d rather hear it from you, Mr. Whitley.” Then she addressed us.

  “It’s nice to see you face-to-face, Detective. Thanks for the text messages and voice mails you sent—all day. You, too, Georgie, since Jack said some of the content came from you.”

  “Glad to run into you after what had to be a busy day,” Jack said in an amiable tone. “I’m sure we weren’t the only ones sending you information—all day. We were just about to leave.”

  “It was great chatting with you, Kevin,” I said.

  “Detective Spencer may repeat some of the questions we asked you, but she really needs to hear what you have to say,” Jack added.