by Jana DeLeon
“I wouldn’t mind a root beer float,” I said. “There’s an advertisement for them in the café window.”
“I could probably do a float,” Ida Belle said.
We headed across the street and I slowed as we were passing the building that I saw the woman take the cake lady into. I knew from the sign on the building that it was a real estate office. On the front window was a picture of the woman, indicating she was the owner of the agency. Her name was Janet Barlow.
“Something there caught your attention?” Ida Belle asked, noticing my pause.
“Ooooohhhhh,” Gertie said. “You should totally buy a vacation home.”
“Even if I had that kind of money, no way would I buy a house in a place that employed Benton,” I said.
“Then what’s up?” Ida Belle asked. “You have that look.”
“Did you see the woman who pulled Cake Lady away?” I asked.
They both shook their heads.
“We didn’t have a clear view from the floor,” Ida Belle said. “I could only see part of Cake Lady. Why?”
“She was midfifties,” I said. “With big blond hair, bright red lipstick, and rings on six fingers. Sound like someone?”
Ida Belle’s eyes widened. “The night clerk’s friend. I bet you’re right. And her being a real estate agent makes perfect sense in context.”
I nodded. “What do you want to bet this Janet Barlow knew good and well Otis wasn’t leasing a building for a restaurant and that’s what she told Betty Palmer.”
“If that’s the case, then Betty definitely knew Otis was a scammer before he was killed,” Gertie said. “I wonder if she confronted him.”
“No way to know unless she admits to it,” I said as I opened the door to the café.
“I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one,” Ida Belle said.
We strolled inside and took a table away from the other patrons. We stopped talking until the server came over and took our order—three root beer floats and a piece of key lime pie for Gertie. When the server left, I pulled out my phone and accessed the photos.
“I only checked to see that the images were clear,” I said. “I didn’t have time to read anything.”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Gertie said. “Read.”
I enlarged the medical examiner’s document and scanned it for the cause of death, then frowned.
“Cause of death is tetrodotoxin poisoning,” I said.
“What is that?” Gertie asked.
“Puffer fish,” I said.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ida Belle said.
“I’m afraid not,” I said. “You don’t have to consume much to cause respiratory failure.”
Ida Belle sighed. “So we have a poison that anyone with a fishing rod can acquire. That’s not going to narrow things down.”
“It’s worse than that,” I said. “Did you read the events list they gave us when we checked in? There’s a guest chef who comes to the resort once a month. Guess what he prepares.”
“I don’t suppose it could have been an accident then,” Gertie said.
“No,” I said. “The guest chef isn’t due until this Friday. Besides, if Otis ate poorly prepared puffer fish, then he would have had side effects right there in the restaurant. That stuff is deadly and fast.”
“Then how did someone poison him?” Ida Belle asked. “Can it be liquefied and put into a drink?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I said. “But you’re right. That’s definitely a snag. The killer could have lifted the card and had access to his room, but if a random container of fish showed up, that would look odd.”
“Maybe not,” Gertie said. “I mean, yes, if a random container appeared it would look odd. But when we had dinner, Otis wasn’t crazy about his lasagna. He probably only ate three or four bites. I tried to get him to order something else, but he said he had leftover seafood étouffée in his room.”
“That’s it,” Ida Belle said. “The killer stole the card and added the poisoned fish to Otis’s leftover étouffée. You could hide a flip-flop in leftover étouffée.”
“But how did they know Otis had the étouffée to poison?” Gertie asked. “Seems risky to walk around with poisonous fish, hoping to find something to put it in.”
“There are two possible answers,” I said. “The first is that the killer stole the card and accessed Otis’s room, saw the étouffée, then came back with the fish.”
“And the second?” Gertie asked.
“Simple,” I said. “The killer saw Otis take the étouffée to go or was the one eating with him.”
Ida Belle nodded. “The first is risky. Even with the broken cameras, accessing the room twice doubles the opportunity for someone to see them.”
“I agree,” I said. “I prefer the second option for that reason, and because if we can figure out where Otis ate the day before he died—and even better, who with—then we might be able to narrow the field of suspects.”
“So,” Gertie said. “All we have to do is find a restaurant that serves seafood étouffée …in coastal Florida.”
“There’s probably no shortage,” Ida Belle said. “But we can start a list and maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“First up is the restaurant at the resort,” I said. “They have seafood étouffée.”
“It couldn’t be that easy, right?” Gertie asked.
“Easy, perhaps, but not simple,” I said. “If he ate at the restaurant on site, that also means that anyone staying or working there could have seen his dinner and to-go box, not just the person he was eating with. That means everyone is in play until we can put them somewhere else during that time frame.”
Ida Belle shook her head. “And given the way this case is going, that’s probably going to be harder than we want it to be. What about the checks? Maybe we can narrow things down that way.”
Gertie snorted. “More likely, we’ll just add more people on the pile.”
“Let’s hope not,” I said, and accessed the first pic. “No surprise here. A check from Cynthia Rawlins for five thousand. Second one is Rita Walker for two thousand.”
Gertie sighed. “Another person to investigate.”
“That’s Flamingo Lady,” Ida Belle said. “I asked around this morning.”
“Good,” I said. “Last one up is Betty Palmer.” I whistled. “Ten thousand.”
“I thought Betty was supposed to be the cheap one,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle frowned. “She is. Quite frankly, given the general gossip about her situation and the fact that she’s working a night shift here, I’m surprised she had ten thousand to give.”
“I wonder if that ten thousand was all she had to give,” I said.
“If so, that’s ten thousand reasons to kill Otis,” Ida Belle said.
“Ten thousand good ones as far as I’m concerned,” Gertie grumbled.
“I don’t think either of us disagrees with the sentiment,” I said. “But unfortunately, whoever decided to take that very big step put you in the middle of it.”
“Benton put me in the middle of it,” Gertie said. “No cop worth his salt would have given me more than a glance. Good Lord, he has people practically lining up to be suspects, and he’s wasting valuable time on me.”
“Yeah, but the only one that isn’t local, besides you, is Flamingo Lady,” I said. “And since he’s already started his case against you—and you’ve caused him more than a few embarrassing incidents—I don’t look for him to shift gears.”
“Flamingo Lady has family in the area, so there’s no way Benton is giving up Gertie,” Ida Belle said. “And he’s not going to do any real investigating until that appointment happens.”
“So the three of us are my only hope,” Gertie said and grinned. “Usually when people say that, they’re afraid things will go south. I have the luxury of knowing that with Swamp Team 3 on the job, everything will be fine.”
Ida Belle stared at her, clearly unconvinced. She probably was
n’t doubting our ability to get Gertie off the hook. I was going to hazard a guess that her difference of opinion came with the definition of the word “fine.”
“So what now?” Gertie asked.
“I want to stop by the Realtor’s office on the way back and see if I can get anything out of her,” I said. “Betty is out the most money, and I’d like to find out what the Realtor told her.”
Ida Belle nodded. “In addition to the money, we also need to consider the emotional component and not just the financial. Cynthia never married and given her age, that’s not the norm. Otis might have been the first man she let her guard down for.”
“Or the second,” Gertie said. “She might have been burned so bad years ago that she didn’t pursue another relationship. If she broke her self-imposed rule after all these years, only to get taken again, no telling how angry she’d be.”
I knew more than anyone how emotion could drive someone to lose everything. The arms dealer, Ahmad, had made it his personal mission to hunt me down and kill me. It cost him his business, the respect of the people who worked for him, and ultimately his life. But if someone was in that red zone, it was sometimes impossible to shake them out of it, regardless of cost.
“So how do you want to play the Realtor?” Ida Belle asked.
“I think I’m going to approach it as looking for a vacation home—something I can also rent,” I said. “Then I can broach the subject of commercial real estate and the situation at the resort and see if she’s worked up enough to talk.”
Ida Belle nodded. “You should take me with you and introduce me as your mother. Two generations of women with no men in tow might appeal to her on a talking level.”
“Why can’t I play Fortune’s mother?” Gertie asked.
“Because there’s no telling how many people got a picture or video of you running from Flamingo Lady,” Ida Belle said. “You know how that sort of thing circulates. We only have one shot at this and can’t risk her recognizing you.”
“Fine,” Gertie said. “I look way too young to play Fortune’s mother anyway.”
“You look old enough to play Jesus’s mother,” Ida Belle said.
“I don’t know why we have remained friends this long,” Gertie said.
“At least she didn’t say Moses,” I pointed out. “You made it into the New Testament.”
“So what am I supposed to do while you two are having fun gossiping with the Realtor?” Gertie asked.
“Maybe check out some of the shops,” I said. “You wanted to buy some stuff to take home anyway. And if any of the clerks are looking to chat, you might be able to clue in on some local gossip.”
“Please,” Ida Belle said, “for the love of God, don’t get into any trouble. If Benton gets one more call that involves you, he’s going to arrest you for disturbing his peace.”
“You say that like I cause trouble everywhere I go,” Gertie said.
Ida Belle stared. “I am amazed, sometimes, how you can say certain things with a straight face.”
“Years of practice,” Gertie said.
I grinned. “But New Testament years.”
Chapter Seventeen
I pushed open the door to the real estate office and stepped inside, glancing around. It was small, but neat, with three desks in a large open area and an office with glass walls behind them. None of the front desks were occupied, but Janet was seated in her office and looked up when we walked in. A couple seconds later, she rose from her desk and made her way over to us, wearing a huge smile.
“Welcome, ladies,” she said, extending her hand to Ida Belle first. “My name is Janet Barlow. How can I help you today?”
I shook her hand and smiled back. “I’m Patricia and this is my mother, Margaret. We’re here on vacation but I’ve been so impressed with the landscape and the climate that it got me considering a vacation home.”
The smile widened. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Come on back.”
We followed her into her office and sat in the two chairs in front of her desk.
“No one knows Quiet Key like me,” Janet said. “I still live in the same beach cottage I was born in. My momma, God rest her soul, was one of those that didn’t believe in going to the hospital to have a baby.”
“Sounds like a tough woman,” I said.
“She was a fool,” Janet said. “As soon as the first contraction hit me, I went straight to the ER and told them to give me something or just shoot me on the spot. And my son came out just fine, despite that evil epidural.”
“I’ve always seen progress in a favorable light,” Ida Belle said. “Especially the medical kind.”
Janet nodded. “I’m pretty sure having me changed her mind on the whole process, but my daddy ran off shortly after and momma swore off men, so she never had to revisit the issue.”
“So not as big a fool as one might think,” I said.
Janet laughed. “I guess you got me there. I didn’t have any better luck in that department than momma did. Guess that whole psychological thing about marrying your father is true to some extent. Mine didn’t even stick around for the birth, but I have some cousins who were happy to provide the manly side of things for me. My son’s a surgeon, so I guess it all turned out all right.”
“That’s great,” Ida Belle said. “You must be very proud.”
“I am,” Janet said. “What about you two? Any grandkids that I need to factor into this vacation home search?”
Ida Belle shook her head. “This one has gone the route of no men before they can cause her any trouble. Her father died young and I decided that road was too much for me to attempt again. It’s been just the two of us for quite a while now.”
Janet gave me an approving nod. “You’re still young enough to change your mind if you come across the right one.”
“It seems the wrong ones are way more plentiful,” I said. “Plus, I’ve had some success in my business—security systems—and I’m always afraid they see the money first and not me.”
Janet’s expression shifted to a flash of anger and she shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with our society that men are preying on women for their living these days.”
Ida Belle nodded. “It happened to my cousin. She was widowed and an easy target. He took her for quite a bit of the insurance money she got when her husband died. I would give my eyeteeth to get my hands on him, but he disappeared before I knew about it.”
“That’s just awful,” Janet said. “A friend of mine got taken recently for a good chunk of her savings. She’s barely getting by, so the loss was a big one.”
“Did he pull the dying of cancer routine?” Ida Belle asked. “That’s how my friend lost her shirt.”
“No,” Janet said. “He told her he was opening a business on the island and her money was an investment. He promised to double her money in a year. When she called me about it, I told her he was lying. I know every commercial property deal on this island. There’s only one building zoned for the restaurant nonsense he told her about, and it was leased a week ago to the shop next door for an expansion.”
I glanced over at Ida Belle. Bingo. Janet was Betty Palmer’s friend.
“I take it she didn’t listen to you?” I asked.
Janet sighed. “More like it was too late. I’m sure she’d already given him the money. I think she told me thinking I’d be excited about the potential for her to double her savings. She didn’t expect to hear that it was a scam.”
“If only she’d called you sooner,” Ida Belle said.
“The worst part is,” Janet said, “this business deal was all wrapped up in romantic promises so he didn’t just take her money. He broke her heart. She’s never been the same after losing her husband. I guess I didn’t realize how desperate she was for that sort of connection.”
“That sucks,” I said. “Did she report him to the police? Maybe they can get her money back.”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Janet’s face as she
realized how much of what she’d said implicated her friend in Otis’s murder.
“Unfortunately, he’s long gone,” Janet said.
“That’s too bad,” Ida Belle said. “I know some would say it’s a lesson learned, but it seems particularly harsh to me.”
“Me too,” Janet said, then put on her big smile again. “So what kind of vacation home are you looking for?”
We spent another thirty minutes going over listings and I took a sheet with me to “think about it.” Janet assured me that the price was a bit negotiable on all of them, but they were priced well and all in great condition, not needing any repair. One of them was a two-bedroom condo with a view of the beach that was so pretty I almost forgot I wasn’t really there to shop. Then, on the other hand, I did have quite a bit of money saved, and Janet assured me the condo would almost pay for itself if I rented it during the summer. Heck, maybe I’d think about it.
As we headed out, Ida Belle sent a text to Gertie, telling her to meet us at the car.
“Well,” Ida Belle said. “We confirmed your suspicions. Sounds like Otis pitched this restaurant thing to Betty and Flamingo Lady.”
“Probably to Cynthia as well,” I said. “Why change things up if it was working? And based on Flamingo Lady’s behavior, we already suspected Otis was wrapping romance up in the package, but Janet confirmed that as well.”
“So still three that are the best possibilities.”
“I’m not liking Flamingo Lady for it,” I said. “She attacked Gertie because she saw him at dinner with her the night he was killed. If that was the first chink in Otis’s white-knight armor, then Flamingo Lady wouldn’t have been plotting to kill him earlier that day. And if she had killed him, the last thing she would have done was draw attention to herself by attacking Gertie in a public place.”
“You’re right,” Ida Belle said. “Plus, she’d be less likely to know about the broken cameras. I think we should move her to the end of the list. Which leaves Betty and Cynthia.”
“So the question is, which one of them was heartbroken enough to kill?”
“Given what we know, it could go either way. I think it’s time we talk to the suspects. You’ll know if they’re lying.”