Red Hot

by Dana Dratch

  “OK, so stop keeping this idiot in suspense. What’s going on around here? And why do you look like an extra from Sunset Boulevard?

  I spent the next twenty minutes telling him everything. From the fake election and the champagne campaign rally to Leslie’s slam book, surveillance equipment, and secret bank accounts.

  His eyes widened when I got to the part about bumping into Gabby, our fact-finding missions-slash-break-ins, the shredding party, and the renewed police interest in the accident that might not be an accident.

  “That Leslie McQueen was a one-woman crime spree,” he said, after I finally ran out of steam. “Mind you, you’re not doing so bad yourself.”

  “I thought after last night, life was getting back to normal. You know, that I could actually start the vacation part of my vacation. But if Leslie was murdered, that means there’s a killer on the loose. And now you guys are here. In the middle of it. Oh yeah, and I talked Annie and Gabby into destroying evidence and obstructing a murder investigation. Which will move us to the top of the suspect list.”

  “Yes, but from what you said, that list is going to be more like an encyclopedia. And if Leslie’s been making blackmail her side gig, there are bound to be suspects with a lot stronger motives than you three.”

  “Which the police will never know because we destroyed Leslie’s blackmail stash.”

  “That is a puzzler,” he said, putting the paper straw to his mouth. “But I wouldn’t worry too much about a killer on the loose. From what you discovered, it sounds like Leslie ‘the Embezzler’ McQueen might just have squeezed the wrong person. Since you and the fam aren’t in the blackmail biz, I think we should all be just fine. As long as you don’t go near that pool. They could disinfect hospital sheets in that thing.”

  “I feel like a complete idiot. I wanted to help Annie. And we were trying to keep Dennis and Geoffrey out of jail. And because of that, a killer is going to go free.”

  “I know, Red. You saw a wrong, and you wanted to make it right. That’s not exactly a character flaw.”

  “It is when I end up putting my sister and Gabby on the suspect list.”

  The sunglasses were making the bridge of my nose sweat. And the salty sweat was irritating my already inflamed skin. I tried mopping my face with a napkin.

  “I’m pretty sure Gabby can fend for herself,” Trip said. “Your sister too, for that matter. But we could give them a little help. Just to tip the scales.”

  “What do you mean?” I said, ripping off the scarf and glasses.

  I swear Trip winced.

  “How much of that slam book do you remember?” he asked.

  “Too much, frankly. Apparently one of the guys on five is into something involving superhero costumes. Every time I bump into him, I can’t get the visual out of my head. And I didn’t even see the DVD version.”

  “So, maybe we nose around a little and see what we can find. To be fair, you did stop Leslie’s blackmail machine.”

  “Leslie’s death stopped Leslie’s blackmail machine. I just tidied up after the party.”

  “Look, Red, we’re already down here with a little time on our hands. And we are ace reporters, after all. Besides, I’ll have to come in off the beach sometime. And you appear to be allergic to sunlight.”

  “At this point, I honestly think it’s the stress. Even my own body is turning on me.”

  “So we’ll fish around and pick up a little information of our own. Along with a gallon of aloe vera.”

  We sipped our juice in silence. Bleach smell or not, the setting was gorgeous. Whitewashed patio with sunny-yellow umbrellas around a brilliant blue pool.

  “I wonder what her endgame was,” Trip said, idly stirring his grapefruit juice with the straw.

  “I’ve been thinking about that, too. I think she was going to drain off the monthly fees, beef up the resident fines, and let this place limp along until her bank balance got fat enough. Then take off for parts unknown—leaving Dennis and Geoffrey holding the bag. If she made the most of her next year as board president, she could have potentially gotten away with millions.”

  “Could those two have killed her? Dennis and Geoffrey? Separately or together?”

  “Together they couldn’t make a ham sandwich. Separately? I don’t know. Dennis made one mistake that was more of a near-miss, and he was nearly consumed with guilt. Plus, giving in to Leslie was really eating him. I honestly can’t see him upgrading to murder. Geoffrey? He’s a lot harder to read. But I can’t picture him actually hurting someone.”

  “If the elevator was the murder weapon, it’s a very hands-off way to do it,” he said. “A well-versed killer might not even have to be there at the time.”

  “And don’t forget old Quinn Whitmore, either,” I said.

  “Yes, but it’s harder to blackmail someone who doesn’t have a sense of shame in the first place,” Trip said.

  “True. But we don’t know what else that guy’s into. And I keep wondering if he and Leslie might have been an item.”

  “She breaks it off, so he drops an elevator on her?” Trip shook his head.

  “Better than a house. Stan Cohen did refer to Leslie as ‘the Wicked Witch of the West.’”

  “Another suspect. Wonder what Leslie had on him?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t want to know. He claims to have a girlfriend across town. But I think he really has a crush on Ethel. Oh geez, I almost forgot about Ethel.”

  “Do tell,” he said, leaning forward.

  “She said if Leslie had been lying to them about the law banning dogs on elevators, she was going to wring her neck. And Ethel was pretty chipper the next day.”

  “It’s a miracle your friend Leslie lived as long as she did.”

  “Come to think of it, my sister threatened her, too. But that was only after Leslie was already dead.”

  “So I think we can rule her out.”

  “Did I mention that we’ve got the confettied remains of Leslie McQueen’s blackmail tapes in Annie’s apartment?”

  “You did not. And those I would definitely remove.”

  “Love to. But garbage collection hasn’t restarted yet. The trash chutes are practically backed up to the roof. Plus, I don’t know how smart it is to chuck the stuff here. You know, in case the police start going through it all.”

  “Do you remember what I used to do during the occasional garbage strike?”

  “Write a strongly worded letter to your district councilmen?”

  “Besides that. I’d throw the bags in my trunk, drive to an apartment complex, and toss them in a dumpster.”

  “Are you suggesting a road trip?”

  “I am,” he said, checking his watch. “And if we leave now, we’ll still be able to make lunch with your family. Because I, for one, am not going to miss out on those lemon ricotta pancakes.”

  CHAPTER 58

  Lunch was wonderful. The best part: the company. It was great to have two of my three siblings and Baba, Trip, and Lucy all around one big table.

  And the pancakes weren’t bad, either.

  Strangely enough, I missed Gabby. While I was pretty sure Nick was over her, I didn’t want to chance raising the issue. It was one thing to move on from a breakup. It was another to see your ex laughing across the table.

  But the biggest surprise was Baba. Annie had taken her to the heart of South Beach to get fitted out with the latest in summer fashion, Baba-style.

  Tonight, she was decked out in a wide-brimmed straw hat, hot-pink clam-diggers, and a bright multicolored blouse.

  “Lee-lee Puh-leet-zer,” Baba pronounced carefully, smiling.

  “About time somebody in this family brought home a Pulitzer,” Nick quipped.

  “They’re made for vacations, and they’ll wash like a dream,” Annie said. “You don’t even need an iron. Tumble dry and pop them on. That’s why I love them.”

  Baba was still wearing her running shoes. But I noticed she’d traded the calf-high athletic socks for a pair of
neat white socklets. And instead of her trademark black leather purse, she was carrying a jaunty straw bag with a red hibiscus decoration on the side.

  Summer Baba.

  I was also glad to see Annie had made sure our grandmother had a pair of dark sunglasses. They were even bigger than mine—and pretty much covered her face from above her eyebrows to below her cheek bones.

  At this rate, someone could replace her with a whole different Baba and we might not notice.

  “And the most important part of any summer wardrobe is sunblock,” Annie said. “Especially down here.”

  Trip and I exchanged glances. I was still wearing Annie’s sun hat with my sunglasses. I’d left the scarf at home. But it had taken half a pound of concealer just to appear presentable. Or, in my case, human. So instead of peeling red skin, I had peeling pasty skin.

  “I discovered this brand that’s really top-notch—gentle but supereffective,” my sister said, passing baby-blue gift bags around the table. “Anyway, I stocked up and got a bottle for everyone. Call it a ‘welcome to Miami’ present.”

  Wouldn’t you know it was the same stuff I was using already?

  CHAPTER 59

  When we arrived back at Oceanside, the elevators were working. But the residents were in an uproar.

  Trip dropped us at the curb. That’s where we noticed the squad cars.

  He looked at me. I could see the question in his eyes.

  “We’ll be fine,” I promised.

  “I’ll park the car and be right in,” he said.

  My heart was hammering as we walked through the door. The first thing I noticed in the lobby was the crowd. A clot of people just standing around waiting. Or watching.

  Stan, Ernie, and Marilyn were in the thick of it. Facing off with a couple of sets of uniformed police officers. And one guy in a gray suit, who I’m guessing was a detective.

  “I’m gonna get Baba and Lucy upstairs,” Nick said softly. “You guys want to stick around and see what’s going on here?”

  “Good plan,” I said.

  “In the absence of a pool cue, don’t be afraid to throw an elbow,” he said, grinning.

  I knew he was kidding. So why was I so relieved to see the elevator doors close after them?

  “Now you just wait a darned tootin’ minute!” Stan yelled, waving his wrinkled finger in the face of a young patrol officer. “Ethel wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Sir, please stand back,” the man in the suit said evenly. “The officers are just doing their job. And your friend isn’t under arrest. She’s just helping with our investigation.”

  “Bull pucky!” Stan spat.

  “I’m fine, Stan,” Ethel called over her shoulder, blinking back tears as a pair of officers steered her toward the front door.

  No cuffs, I noticed.

  I’d been through the same thing myself recently. Except no one bothered to tell my neighbors I was “helping” the police. One of them, Mr. Rasmussen, still thought I was Jackie the Ripper.

  “I’ll get you a lawyer, Ethel!” Stan shouted after her.

  “I’ll be fine!” she hollered. “Get one for Mrs. Pickles! She’s never spent a night away from home! She’ll be terrified!”

  Ernie patted Stan on the shoulder. Marilyn had clearly been crying. There were streaks of black mascara down her carefully made-up face.

  “What the heck’s going on?” I asked her. “Why are the police taking Ethel?”

  “They want to talk to her about Leslie McQueen,” Ernie said quietly. “They think she might have had something to do with her death.”

  “Why? And what did she mean about Mrs. Pickles?”

  “They picked her up a few hours ago,” Marilyn said, sniffling as she dabbed her nose with a crumpled tissue. “It was awful. Ethel was so upset. And the worst part is they won’t tell her when Mrs. Pickles is coming home. Or if she’s coming home. They wouldn’t even tell Ethel where they’re keeping the poor little thing.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Ernie said, “when that old witch went toes up, she had some kind a’ mark on her arm. The cops think it’s a bite. Ethel had had words with McQueen. Ethel was always having words with McQueen. They think maybe it got physical, and Mrs. Pickles bit her. You know, to defend Ethel. And then Ethel was afraid McQueen was going to have Mrs. Pickles put down. So she killed her.”

  “Ethel would never hurt anyone,” Stan said, his voice cracking with emotion. “She’s a delicate flower.”

  With that he made a break for the front door—after the cops and Ethel. Ernie followed him.

  “Stan’s got a point,” I said. “I mean, Leslie was wiry. Toned. I’m guessing she played tennis at least a couple of times a week. And probably worked out in the gym here?”

  Marilyn nodded.

  “The idea of Ethel shoving her into the shaft—or even being able to get the shaft door open—that just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Ethel’s late husband was an electrician,” Marilyn said to me quietly, as we watched her husband catch up with Stan and clap a big paw on his bony shoulder, halting his forward momentum. “Ethel used to go with him on jobs. When they were just starting out. Before he could afford to hire anybody. She’s still pretty handy. She installed the dimmer in our dining room. The police think, well, they think she might have rigged the elevator door.”

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “That’s not Ethel. Stan’s absolutely right about that. But sometimes when Leslie was in one of her moods? That woman could be truly terrifying. She’d get this gleam in her eyes. And she’d just go off. Like she wasn’t even human. More like a volcano or a tornado. Just, total destruction. If that’s what Ethel was up against, I could kind of understand it.”

  I looked and saw my sister out on the lawn, chatting amiably with a good-looking guy in a navy suit. From the posture and the stance, I marked him as another detective.

  Good girl!

  Knowing Annie, she was milking him for lots of details.

  Across the lobby, Trip was talking with Quinn Whitmore.

  As Ethel’s patrol detail pulled away from the curb, I half expected Stan to break and run after it. It was turning into that kind of day.

  CHAPTER 60

  When we got back to the apartment, Baba gave everyone a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and toddled off toward Annie’s master suite for an afternoon siesta.

  I suspected she was going to fire up that soaking tub.

  But after all the carbs, I needed some caffeine. Or I was going to be nodding off myself.

  “I’m making coffee,” I said. “Anybody else want some?”

  “Definitely,” Trip said.

  “Count me in,” Nick said.

  “Why not?” Annie said. “Sure.”

  When she saw me struggling with her megabucks coffeemaker, she grinned. “Want me to show you how?”

  “It won’t hurt my feelings if you take over,” I admitted. “So what did you learn from that cop?”

  “I can’t believe you noticed that,” she said. “Especially with the circus in the lobby. Basically, what the other detective told everyone is true. Ethel’s not under arrest. She went in voluntarily. Just to talk.”

  “But she could be under arrest soon,” I said. “Especially if she talks to them without a lawyer.”

  Unfortunately, this was one area where I did have some expertise.

  “She has a lawyer,” my sister said. “He should be getting to the station any time now.”

  “Friend of yours?”

  “He handles my contracts down here. The criminal side isn’t his specialty, but he’ll be there with her this afternoon. And he’ll call in someone else from the firm to take over if she needs it.”

  “What about her dog?” Nick asked, reaching down to pat Lucy, who was glued to his leg. “Can we spring her?”

  “From what Detective Alvarez said, Mrs. Pickles isn’t in any danger. Even if she did bite Leslie. They just wanted an impression of her teeth. Bu
t, if they end up arresting Ethel, they can’t bring a dog home to an empty apartment. So they’re holding Mrs. Pickles temporarily.”

  “Could we keep her?” Nick asked. “She’s a friend of Lucy’s. I mean, I’m going to be here for a couple of days. So I could look after her.”

  “Yeah, Mom, can we keep her?” I asked.

  Annie grinned and nodded. “Of course. But it might not be necessary. If Mike—my attorney, Mike Hathaway—if he can get Ethel released, she and Mrs. Pickles might be able to come home together today. If not, we’ll ask to take her in the meantime. I’m sure Ethel would be fine with it.”

  “Good,” my brother said, clearly relieved.

  “There’s no way that poor woman killed anyone, even Leslie McQueen,” Annie said.

  “I don’t think so either,” I agreed. “But apparently she knows her way around an electric outlet. Which is ironic.”

  “What do you mean?” Nick asked.

  I told him about Leslie’s bugging spree, and Ethel’s knowledge of wiring.

  “You don’t think Ethel might have found one of the bugs and confronted Leslie, do you?” he asked.

  “No,” I said quickly.

  “I don’t know,” Nick teased. “I mean, you were pretty furious at Ian. If he’d ended up dead, I’d have wondered.”

  I glanced at Trip, who shrugged.

  I looked at Annie. She nodded.

  “Look, this stays right here. Annie distracted Ethel, and I removed the bug, OK? And, according to Leslie’s notes, which I also filched, it was the only one in her condo. If Ethel was mad enough to kill Leslie, I don’t think she’d have left the thing in place.”

  “Damn, you’ve been busy on your vacay,” Nick said approvingly. “I thought investigating this whole board election thing was just an excuse to get you down here. And then it was gonna be all margaritas and mojitos in Miami.”

  “It might have started out that way,” I admitted. “Then I met the people in this building. And Leslie. And I just couldn’t leave it alone.”

  “Big surprise,” Trip said, grinning.

  “OK, so what now?” Nick asked.