Ollie thumbed through his notebook. “Supposedly he’s writing a book. Says it’s sure to be a New York Times bestseller. Then he’s blowing this popcorn stand. He likes to hobnob with the rich folks on Jupiter Island. Goes to events at the Tangerine Theatre.”
“Tangerine Theatre? What’s that?”
“Beats me. It’s on Jupiter Island. They have speakers during Season. Authors, politicians, musicians.”
“How was he toward Kathy Simmons?”
“He was mean to her. Always putting her down. Making her rewrite pieces that were fine.”
“Any idea why? You’d think he’d get rid of her if he wasn’t happy with her work.”
“Adrian Green was just too lazy to replace her. One guy speculated that it was because he was so busy with this book deal he’s got going. All the others said Kathy worked hard. Did a lot of assignments that Adrian should have taken. She was there in the office almost all the time, when she wasn’t turning in a story.”
“How come? Seems weird for her to hang around in the office if Mr. Green didn’t like her and she didn't like him.”
Ollie picked at his neck and flipped to another page. “I asked about that. Seems their computers are set up to log into data bases that the paper pays big bucks to join. Kathy spent a lot of time on the Shoreline News computers, doing research.”
“She couldn’t do that from her own computer?”
“Green refused to give her the passwords. Another example of him being a jerk. The computers in the newspaper office were on a network. Green plugged the passwords into the network, but they never showed up on the screen. The databases could only be used from the newspaper office.”
“Interesting,” said Lou. “Maybe that’s how she found dirt on Cooper Rivers. Maybe that’s what she was investigating on all those databases.”
“Green liked spying on all the employees,” said Ollie. “But he really kept an eye on Kathy. Once or twice, he trashed the story she was writing. Then he stole her work and sold it somewhere. Made money on the side. She caught him at it. They went around and around.”
“A motive for her murder? Kathy gets fed up with Adrian Green’s BS. They quarrel, and he kills her?” Lou asked. “I haven’t checked out his alibi yet.”
“According to her co-workers, it made her pretty hot under the collar,” said Ollie, “but she learned a way to hide her stuff from him. That’s what I’ll be looking for on her computer. A code or password to secret files.”
Lou nodded. “We need to nail down what happened between the time she stopped at Green’s apartment and when I found her car.”
"I'm on it. I’ve got uniforms bringing in the CCTV footage from the Winn-Dixie, the plaza in Hobe Sound, and the front door of Adrian Green's apartment building,” said Ollie. “I saved the best for last. Kathy Simmons used her SunPass after she dropped him off."
"Her SunPass?" Lou repeated.
"Yes. According to her SunPass, Kathy Simmons drove all the way to Miami last Monday night.”
"How could a girl drive her car up and down the turnpike when she’s locked inside her trunk?”
“Beats me,” said Ollie.
Lou shook his head in disbelief. “I need to talk to Faraday again. His theory that she was drugged and held captive can’t possibly be right."
CHAPTER 42
~Cara~
“Just what I need. Another mouth to feed,” I told Luna, after Darcy Lahti had left my store. “You might as well meet Jack formally, since you two are going to be roommates. At least temporarily. I plan to find you a new home.”
The gray cat turned yellow eyes on me, but she didn't protest when I lifted her. The scent of urine clung to her, and I thought I saw flea dirt in her fur. She was terribly thin. Cautiously, I carried her closer to Jack’s crate. The transference of fleas didn’t worry me, because I gave him a monthly treatment. But I wasn’t sure that she had had her shots. I couldn’t quite read her tags without my glasses. Jack sniffed at the kitty and wagged his tail. Luna acted bored but not frightened.
I didn’t want to push my luck. I decided to leave Jack in his crate until I had a better idea of how the two would get along.
Should I call Lou? Should I tell him about Darcy’s plans?
I thought back to how he’d grilled me about my fight with Kathy Simmons. Okay, so he had a job to do, he could have talked to me nicely and asked questions. Instead he’d treated me like a suspect. Was it really my responsibility to share with him what I’d learned? All I had to offer was hearsay. Didn’t I have enough on my plate without reporting to him?
In the end, I decided that keeping track of Darcy wasn’t my problem. The girl didn’t need another hassle in her life. No, it was up to Lou to do his job without my help.
As I pondered all this, Luna sniffed around. I wondered if she needed a litter box. Yet another problem to be solved! I couldn’t leave the store until someone else arrived. I wondered if Luna could hold it.
Probably not. Time to get creative.
I took a cardboard box out of the recycling pile. After cutting it low enough for Luna to step over, I dumped in the entire contents of my paper shredder. When I set Luna on top of the confetti, she immediately grasped the purpose and did her business accordingly.
That settled, I went back to my spreadsheets. We’d turned merchandise in all our sales categories. Overall, things looked good.
Really good.
“That still doesn’t mean we can survive the summer,” I told the cat and dog. “The Old Florida Photo Gallery idea worked, but now it’s up to me to come up with some other event to move merchandise.”
I was lecturing the fur babies when Honora came through the back door, shaking out her umbrella. “Finally slowed up, but it’s still raining out by me. I reckoned that you’d get an early start. You seemed like an early bird. My, my! Where did that cat come from?”
I explained about Darcy Lahti’s visit.
“Sad situation. I’m glad she didn’t walk off and leave that poor creature.”
“Would you like to become the proud owner of this cat?”
“Laws, no. EveLynn would never tolerate the mess. She’s too obsessive-compulsive. What a shame, because that’s a pretty kitty.” With eyes bright as twin blue jays, Honora smiled at Luna. Then she asked, “What are you working on, Cara, dear?”
“Sales figures. Let me show you how we did,” I said, handing over the spreadsheets.
After a few pertinent questions, she passed the papers back. “I’m delighted that EveLynn’s soft goods sold so well. My miniatures did, too. We can pick up more pillows, totes, tea towels, and throws on our way back from Jupiter Island. Assuming, of course, that you are still interested in visiting Senator and Mrs. Wentworth?”
“Should we call them in advance?”
“Yes, we should call, but no, we won’t call the Wentworths. They are early risers,” she said cryptically. “Pass me my handbag, dear.”
After tapping in a number on her cell phone, she waited. “LaTisha? It’s me, Honora. Yes, yes, I’m fine. Look, I was thinking of paying the Wentworths a visit. I’m bringing along a friend. Uh-huh. Give us thirty minutes, dear. Thanks so much.”
“LaTisha is their cook,” Honora explained. “Lately she’s been pressed into service to act like their maid. I called LaTisha because if Jenny Beth is angry, she might not agree to see you in advance. But now that we know they are home, we can show up on the doorstep with flowers.”
“Good thinking,” I said, as MJ came in carrying a huge hot pink umbrella. After I explained where we were going, I handed her the spreadsheets. “You might want to look these over.”
"Will do. I'll also follow up on the nibbles we had last night," she said. “I think we can sell another chest of drawers and a Highwaymen painting. Oh, and I had a potential customer for that vintage screen door grill. She said to call her this morning.”
Luna stepped out from under my desk. Sitting down primly in the center of the room, she studied my co-worker.
“Hello! Where did you come from?” MJ fussed over Luna, patting her and telling her how pretty she was.
“Why don’t you take her home with you?” I suggested, as I grabbed my keys.
“No way,” said MJ. “I already have a neon sign over my head that shouts, ‘Crazy Cat Lady.’ The last thing I need is another feline. But here’s what I will do. I’ll run home and grab some kitty necessities and accessories from my supply closet. Did you notice that she’s wearing a tag? Looks like she’s already had her shots.”
“I saw the tag but didn’t read it.”
Skye came tripping down the stairs. She also paused to admire Luna. I gave everybody the short version of Darcy’s visit. The cat seemed to know she was being discussed because she posed like an Egyptian statue, taking everything in. Of course, Jack started to feel neglected. A pitiful whine came from his crate, so I let him out. He ran over and pawed at my leg. Luna stared at him but didn’t move.
“What’s that matter? Are you afraid of Luna? Or are you jealous?” I asked Jack, lifting him for a cuddle.
“Lou’s not going to be happy about Darcy taking off like that,” said Skye. “Not while he’s still investigating Kathy Simmons’ death.”
“You’re not going to tell him that she took off, are you?” I stared at her.
“No way. He’s on his own.”
“I know it wasn’t a good idea for her to leave town, but what could I do? Shout that I was making a citizen’s arrest? Not hardly,” I said. “Anyway Darcy didn’t kill Kathy.”
“You know this how?” MJ crossed her arms over her chest. Raindrops had left dark spots on her coral blouse. “The killer is usually someone close to the victim. Darcy Lahti qualifies.”
“Darcy had no reason to kill her friend. Not when Kathy was paying for everything!”
MJ rolled her eyes at me. "Sounds like a perfect reason for murder to me. Maybe Kathy was tired of having a freeloader as a roommate. Maybe she threatened to give Darcy the heave-ho."
"I don't think so," I said, and I described the tattoo on Darcy's arm. "I have a hunch they were more than just roommates. Darcy told me that Mrs. Simmons didn't care for her. Perhaps I’m making a big leap here, but I got the impression that Mrs. Simmons didn’t approve of their relationship. If you get my drift.”
“If Darcy loved Kathy, why not stick around for the funeral?” asked Skye.
“For one thing, Darcy didn’t want to face Kathy’s mom. For another, Darcy said Kathy couldn't bear small spaces. Seeing her in a coffin would have been too upsetting."
"Ugh," said Skye. "And here Kathy was locked in a car trunk. Can you imagine?"
"That reminds me.” I held up the plastic bag with the photo in it. "Skye, is there any way you can copy this? I'd like to give it to Kathy's mother at the funeral, but I think I ought to keep a copy just in case. Maybe Lou will want to see it."
"Sure," she said, taking the baggie from me. "I can scan and print it. I can even use my deckle scissors to edge the copies so they look exactly like the original."
"Thanks," I said. "Okay, ladies. I'm off to throw myself on the mercy of the Senator and his wife. Wish me luck!"
CHAPTER 43
Honora climbed into my passenger seat, pulled her wet umbrella in behind her, and buckled her belt securely. “Go south on A1A until you get to Osprey,” she said. “At that traffic light, turn east.”
I did as I was told. We traveled to the metronome of my windshield wipers and talked about the VIP event. Fortunately, the rain was letting up. By the time we made it to the Hobe Sound city limits, we were traveling under cerulean skies.
“What was my grandmother like?” I asked Honora.
“I figured you’d get around to that. Josephina was definitely Dick’s better half. A lovely woman. Beautiful singing voice. Sweet-tempered. Friendly. You could count on her in a pinch. Always thinking of others. Wonderful housekeeper and mother. She was a real loss to the community.”
“Sounds sort of bland compared to Poppy.”
“Heavens, no! She had a fabulous sense of humor, loved animals, and she was incredibly protective of your mother. When Dick got out of line, Josephina’d straighten him out with a look. If she didn’t like someone or didn’t approve of them, she would cut them dead. Had no time or patience for fools. I imagine you and your mother got your bright minds from her. It’s a shame that she died while Jolene was still in high school. Dick didn’t really know what to do with a teenage daughter, except to bark at her.”
I mulled that over. My mother had been terse with me. Discussion was not a word in her vocabulary. She expected obedience. She didn’t care about my opinion. Nor was she a particularly comforting person. Dad had been the warm and fuzzy one in our family. My mother could have best been described as prickly.
“Your grandmother shouldn’t have died so young,” said Honora. “It was a shame. I don’t think that Dick ever got over losing her. Especially given the way it happened. She’d asked him to run out and fetch a few groceries, but he was in one of his moods, so she went instead. He’s never forgiven himself.”
It was hard to visualize Poppy feeling remorse, but Honora’s explanation made sense. In fact, it explained a lot about my grandfather and my mother. He was irascible, quick to anger, and touchy. She had been cold, withdrawn, and reserved. The woman who died—Josephina—had functioned like an electric currency converter, helping Poppy and Mom to interface with each other safely. When Josephina left this earth, she left behind two powerful voltages that sent off sparks when they came in contact.
“I need to pick up flowers for Mrs. Wentworth,” I said.
“I haven’t forgotten.” Honora seemed happy to watch the scenery roll by.
“How did you get started in miniatures?” I asked, eager to change the subject. “Did you have a dollhouse as a child?”
“Heavens, no. My parents were too serious for such things. Both were intellectuals who really didn’t understand children. I still wonder why they had me. An accident, I suppose. No, I bought a dollhouse for EveLynn. I had hoped that she’d like it. I thought it might help her work on her people skills, playacting with the dolls.”
“Did it?”
“Not at all, but I became fascinated. I immediately decided that the furniture in that little house had to go. Too ugly by far. Clunky and cheap looking. At nights, I started crafting this and that. Usually botching the job, but with persistence, I got better. My husband Frank encouraged me, seeing how it took my mind off EveLynn. Of course, back then, no one knew anything about Asperger’s.”
“When did you decide to combine miniatures with recycling?”
“Almost immediately. I found myself looking at everything differently, wondering how I could put common items to good use. One thing led to another.”
“I have to admit, I wasn’t sure about the appeal at first. But now I find myself walking over to your room boxes, staring at them, and losing track of the minutes as they tick by. I wonder what it is that draws me to them.”
“Surely a smart girl like you can answer that question for yourself,” she said, with her ever present chuckle. Her suppressed laughter caused the flowers on her hat to sway. Her lavender perfume filled the car.
“I’m not sure I can.”
“Cara, dear, miniatures remind us who we really are. You see, we forget that we are giants. We give away our power. Small problems hamstring us, bring us to our knees. But when we stare into a tiny setting, we reclaim our birthright. We’re rulers of the universe. All our problems are shrunk down to their true size.”
I thought this over. “Yes, I guess I see that. It makes sense.”
“A dollhouse allows us to step into another world, as willing participants. You might never want to live in an old watering can surrounded by flowers, but you can imagine yourself in that setting, puttering around with plants all day. Same with a miniature bakery. You might not want to stand in front of a hot oven or ice cookies and make cupcakes, but when you look at my tiny bakery,
you can put yourself into the scene without any effort, can’t you?”
“Sort of. Mostly, I find myself thinking how charming the tiny pieces are. Especially given Kathy Simmons’ death, maybe I’m hungry for an escape.”
“I suppose your question is age old. Why do we enjoy anything? Especially hobbies or crafts, since these are non-essentials? Human beings have an innate compulsion to collect, hoard, and admire.”
“Hmmm. Perhaps it is because we crave beauty.”
“Yes, that too.”
Once we reached Hobe Sound proper, she directed me to a Publix. I dashed inside and bought a bouquet of flowers, choosing a bunch with star lilies because I find their scent so exotic.
Back on Bridge Road, we turned east toward the island. Immediately, I caught the rich smell of wet sargassum seaweed and brine. Crossing over the drawbridge, I said, “This is where the wealthy snobs live.”
“And all Italians are members of the Mafia,” said Honora.
My gasp was audible.
She turned a sweet smile on me. “Cara, dear, prejudice is prejudice. I expected better from you. Each person is unique. There are wealthy snobs here, as well as lovely people who have worked hard to achieve success. They chose this remote location because they wanted to live quietly, and they wanted their families to be secure. Look there.” She pointed a gnarled finger at a ficus tree festooned with cameras.
“No one can get on or off this island without being recorded. Along with great wealth comes great risk. To ensure the safety of their children and grandchildren, they have installed these cameras. That’s an aspect of life that most of us never worry about—having our loved ones kidnapped.”
Beach Road dead-ended at a tiny park with a tall flagpole and rustic pavilions. Honora directed me to turn right, south.
“The north end of the island is actually more exclusive,” explained Honora. “More newcomers own property on the south side. Since Celine Dion and Tiger Woods built their huge compounds, more gawkers roam Beach Road on the south side hoping to catch a glimpse of celebrities. Turn here.”
Second Chance at Life Page 14