Second Chance at Life

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  “Immediately before Josiah Wentworth died he had two sets of visitors. They showed up one right after another, unannounced.” Davidson exhaled, loudly, as though exhausted by what would come next.

  Lou pressed forward. “Who?”

  “Cara Mia Delgatto, Honora McAfee, and Dick Potter.”

  CHAPTER 54

  ~Lou~

  “Let me back up and fill in the details,” said Davidson. “Shortly before eleven, 911 received a call from the Wentworth household on Jupiter Island. The medics arrived to find Senator Wentworth having convulsions on the floor of the lanai. The man was lying in a pool of vomit. At first, they thought he was a victim of alcohol poisoning. The staff at Martin Memorial told me the Senator had been brought in several times for similar events. But this time, he was unresponsive. They tried to stabilize him, but he was dead on arrival. His wife insisted that they try to revive him. She even went so far as to physically attack the ER doctor when he pronounced Josiah Wentworth dead.”

  “That’s not all that unusual,” said Lou. “I’ve seen family members badger medical personnel into working on cold corpses.”

  “True,” agreed Davidson. “The doctor explained to her that the Senator was gone, and that no amount of effort would revive him. That’s when Mrs. Wentworth demanded to see me. I ran over to Martin Memorial, thinking it was just a courtesy call, a way of offering support to a grieving widow. When I arrived, George Fernandez was there. George is Director of Jupiter Island Public Safety.”

  Lou knew that “Director of Public Safety” was the title given to the Jupiter Island Chief of Police.

  “Mrs. Wentworth hit us with her agenda right away,” said Davidson. “She wants us to launch a murder investigation. She’s convinced that the Senator was poisoned."

  "Based on what?" asked Lou. Poisoning could be hard to diagnose, even when trained medical examiners were looking for it.

  "According to Mrs. Wentworth, the Senator was perfectly fine this morning. She admits that he’s slowed down, his memory is iffy, and he tends to nap at odd moments. But she says that their doctor at Johns Hopkins told her that her husband could live to be one hundred. ‘He has the constitution of an ox’ were her exact words.”

  “Let’s see,” said Lou, doing the math. “He’s what? Seventy-something now? The doc gives him thirty more years?”

  “About that,” said Davidson. “Mrs. Wentworth handed Fernandez a drinking glass in a plastic baggy. She claims that Cara Mia put poison in the Senator’s iced tea and handed it to the man. According to her, Cara’s fingerprints are on the glass. Mrs. Wentworth thinks we’ll find traces of poison inside.”

  “Why would she think that the Senator was poisoned? That has to be pure speculation on her part, unless she’s the one who did it!”

  “She says she worked as nurse’s aide when she was younger. Her story is that her husband showed all the classic symptoms.” Davidson picked up a pen, moved it an inch to the right, and then back to the left. “She sort of had us over a barrel. Someone must have tipped off the media the minute the Senator was pronounced dead! I’ve never seen anything like it! They started arriving at the hospital in droves. It was a mad house. Then, Mrs. Wentworth takes Fernandez and me aside and threatens us. She says that if we don’t follow up on her concerns, she’ll tell the media that we’re stonewalling. It was a no-win situation. In the end, we got her to agree to give us forty-eight hours so we could get back our lab results.”

  “I’m still not clear on why she called you. I can see why she called Fernandez.”

  “She claims it’s because she wasn’t sure about jurisdiction. As you know, Cara Mia, Dick, and Honora all live in Stuart. I think Mrs. Wentworth has other motives, although I couldn’t tell you what they are! Fortunately, Fernandez and I work together well. No turf issues. So he got a search warrant and sent a team of people to the Wentworths’ house to look for poison. Not surprisingly, they didn’t find anything.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Lou. “Her husband is dead how long and she does all this?”

  “I know, I know. It seems weird that she’d have the peace of mind to wrap up the glass that fast. When I asked, she said that LaTisha Johnson—she’s the maid—hadn’t loaded the dishwasher yet. The dirty glasses were sitting there on the kitchen counter. Mrs. Wentworth claims she knew which one was which.”

  “I know LaTisha. Good woman who got caught up in a bad situation,” said Lou. “So Mrs. Wentworth is accusing Cara of killing her husband?”

  “She believes that Honora, Cara, and Dick might have been working as a team. One distracting, one poisoning, and one showing up later to make sure the job was done.”

  “What would their motive have been?”

  Davidson shifted his weight and leaned back in his chair. His brow creased in concentration. “Evidently, Dick’s wife, Josephina, died when her car was hit by a train. That would have been forty years ago this week. The accident happened at a busy crossing here in Stuart. At the VIP Event, shortly after we left, Dick accused Josiah Wentworth of taking money from the railroads, as payback for not holding them more accountable. Cara dragged her grandfather away, but not before Dick made a scene.”

  Lou shook his head. “Dick Potter is a piece of work.”

  “But is he a murderer?” asked Davidson.

  “A lot of Dick’s military record is classified,” said Lou, “but he served his country honorably. If he wanted to kill someone, he wouldn’t need poison—and he wouldn’t have shown up on their doorstep. Besides, the timeframe is all wrong. He waits forty-two years? Then commits murder right after causing a scene at his granddaughter’s store? Dick might be hot-headed, but he isn’t stupid. No matter how angry he was, an overnight think would have given him time to cool down. Make a plan.”

  “Poison is a woman’s weapon,” said Davidson. “But it doesn’t make sense that Cara would have dragged Honora into it. Or vice versa. And there’s no motive. What’s the payoff for Cara? Killing a man for a death that occurred before she was born? That’s ridiculous.”

  Lou agreed. It didn’t make sense. On the other hand, they couldn’t dismiss the accusation out of hand. “Where does that leave us? What do you want me to do? How are we going to handle the Kathy Simmons’ case?”

  “Don’t worry about getting into her computer. Let me take care of that. We need to pay a visit to Cooper Rivers. Tell him how Kathy threatened Cara. See how he reacts. He doesn’t need to know that we can’t get into Kathy Simmons files, does he?”

  “No,” agreed Lou. “Are you coming with me to talk to him?”

  Davidson stared down at his ink pen. He picked it up and examined it carefully. “I think that would be a mistake. Under the circumstances.”

  Lou waited. He had the sense Davidson would say more, and he did.

  “I was once romantically involved with Jodi Wireka.”

  CHAPTER 55

  Although it was after-hours, Lou found Cooper Rivers’ black Escalade still parked behind his office. The architect had long ago given Lou a phone number that went directly to his cell in case of a crisis, like the broken window in Cara’s store. He’d explained, “Since I have responsibility for every aspect of construction, I have the manpower and resources to handle almost any job. You can always call me to help when there’s a problem.”

  Standing on the sidewalk, Lou dialed that number. When Cooper answered, Lou said, “I need to talk with you. It’s urgent.”

  Cooper hesitated and then said, “Sure. Where are you?”

  Once inside, Cooper led Lou to his office. “I just put on a fresh pot of coffee. Want a cup?”

  “I never turn down fresh coffee,” said Lou.

  With mugs in hand, the men took seats in Cooper’s office. The architect sat under a landscape of the St. Lucie River, a dreamy primordial scene in blues and greens. Instead of a signature, Will Daniels had used a nail to scratch his name into the paint. As the popularity of the Highwaymen grew, many tried to emulate their style. You could fake a si
gnature, but a name scratched in paint was indelible.

  “What’s up?” asked Cooper.

  “I was wondering if you could help me with an investigation.”

  “Into what? Vandalism? Theft of building materials?”

  “No,” and Lou, unbuttoned his jacket so that his shoulder holster could be seen. A subtle reminder that he was armed. “A murder.”

  Cooper’s face went from curious to serious. “Who? Where?”

  “Kathy Simmons. She was a reporter for the Shoreline News. Ever run into her?”

  “No. Not to my knowledge.” Cooper sat back in his seat. His face closed down, that look that Lou had seen so often when questioning someone. A natural defensive posture. Indicative of very little.

  “Could she have called you? Interviewed you for a story?”

  “Not that I know of.” Cooper hesitated. “Lou, I get a lot of calls from a lot of people for a lot of reasons. Martha, my secretary, fields most of them. If you’d like, I can have her go through her telephone message book.”

  “That would be helpful.” Lou let the silence build. Most people, even those who are innocent, abhor the tension created when talking ceases. It is human nature to rush to fill it. The attempts can be insightful, comical, or even pitiful. Once in a while, people share more than they should in an effort to win over the listener. Lou hoped that would happen now.

  Cooper refused to do his part. Lou could almost see the man’s conscious effort to relax. He waited the way a cat watches a lizard. Alert, coiled, ready to pounce.

  “Have you seen Cara lately?”

  “Jodi, Philomena, and I attended the VIP Open House. Phil had good news to share with Cara about Dick’s leaking gas tanks.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.” Cooper’s hands rested in his lap. Lou watched the muscles in his forearms flex, as the man clenched his fists and released them.

  “She still cares about you.”

  Cooper’s head jerked up. “What?”

  “I said Cara still cares about you. A lot.”

  “How do you know? What makes you say that?”

  Lou leaned forward, resting his arms on Cooper’s desk. “Let me tell you a little story. Not to leave this room. Kathy Simmons wanted something from Cara. Cara didn’t want to sell it. Kathy tells Cara she’s done a little research. Your name comes up. Guess what happens next?”

  Cooper swallowed. “I don’t know.”

  “You should know. It matters that you know. Cara gave in. For your sake. She protected you. People overheard the conversation. We have witnesses.”

  He said nothing, but Cooper looked miserable. Absolutely, totally miserable.

  “Cara put herself on the line for you, pal. Next thing you know, Kathy Simmons is dead. And just like that—” Lou snapped his fingers “—Cara’s a suspect in a murder case.”

  A vein pulsed in Cooper’s forehead, but he didn’t say a word.

  “That leaves me wondering. What did you do? How did you drive Cara away? What did Kathy Simmons have on you?”

  Cooper stared past Lou, his face neutral, his eyes fixed. Lou could hear water dripping from the gutters outside. The rain must have started again.

  “You got anything to tell me?” Lou asked.

  “No,” said Cooper. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  CHAPTER 56

  ~Cara~

  “Still hard at work? Don’t you ever take a break?” asked Captain Davidson, as he relaxed back into the chair opposite my desk.

  MJ had rushed out the door to the store promptly at five because she had a date. EveLynn had pulled up out front and honked—actually laid on the horn—to pick up her mother. (“I’ll speak to her about that,” said Honora with a sigh.) Sid had raced off on his bicycle, after sharing details about the new Wolverine movie he planned to see. Skye had called to say she would be working late because several of the servers had sick kids.

  That left me all alone. Theoretically, the perfect time to do paperwork, although I didn’t much feel like digging into numbers. Not when I had felt a twinge of loneliness. Instead I had turned to my new best friend: Pinterest. With the expectation of spending many happy hours fantasizing over clothes and crafts and food, I’d poured myself a glass of red wine and settled in.

  Seeing Davidson at the back door had rattled me. I had expected to be questioned about my visit to the Wentworths’ house, but not so soon.

  Even more surprisingly, Davidson didn’t act like he had come on official business. He passed on my offer of wine, but happily helped himself to a cold Diet Dr Pepper, before pulling up a chair.

  I started to answer his question about taking a break when Luna came out from under my feet and launched herself into his lap.

  “I hope you like cats,” I said.

  “I like all kinds of animals. In fact, I can’t think of a single animal I don’t like.” His grin crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  “Snakes? Lizards? Crocodiles?”

  “Snakes and lizards eat bugs. Crocodiles have walked this earth longer than we have, so I find them fascinating. Maybe ‘like’ is too inclusive. How’s this? ‘I can’t think of an animal that doesn’t intrigue me.’” He paused to tickle Luna under her chin. “If I wasn’t a policeman, I would have happily become a vet.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I discovered the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and I was hooked. Sherlock Holmes and his methodology intrigued me. It was like being hit by lightning. One book and I knew that I wanted to solve mysteries for the rest of my life.”

  “Ah. So it’s not about justice? Or serving and protecting?”

  “Hmm, there is that. Mainly I loved the idea of using my mind, outwitting bad guys. I still like that part of my job the best. That and interacting with people. Getting to know what makes them tick.”

  I took a deep breath and looked away from him. “Are you here to find out what makes me tick? To grill me about my visit to the Wentworths’ house?”

  It took him forever to answer. When he did, it wasn’t what I expected. Davidson said, “I think I know what makes you tick. Presumptuous as that sounds. Yes, I’d like to hear about your visit with the Wentworths. Yes, I have a couple of questions, but how about if we talk over dinner? I’m starving. It doesn’t look like you’ve eaten. I’ve had a lousy day. I can almost taste one of those Kobe beef steaks over at the Riverwalk Café.”

  “A steak,” I said. The idea appealed to me. I’d been craving red meat all day. “Sure, why not.”

  CHAPTER 57

  The Riverwalk Café is narrow and elegant, with an old world feeling. We were directed to a small table in the back. Had I not known I was going to be fielding questions about a dead man, I would have thought the location very romantic.

  After we placed our orders and agreed to call each other by first names, Nathan Davidson asked, “Do you mind telling me about your visit to the Wentworths’ house? And about the discussion your grandfather had with them at your VIP event?”

  “Okay, but fair’s fair. What progress have you made on the burglar who broke into my store?”

  “None so far. Only a small percentage of burglaries are ever solved. Since we can’t trace a painting or a collectible that came from your store, this is even harder for us than usual. We’ve run the partial print through all our databases. I have an officer comparing the modus operandi with other burglaries. We’re trying to find witnesses who might have seen someone lingering around your building,” he said.

  I was disappointed in his report.

  “Sorry I can’t offer you good news,” said Nathan. “It’s frustrating. We’ll certainly keep at it. Do you mind if we talk about your visit with the Wentworths? I’d like to get that out of the way so we can enjoy our meal.”

  I told him about Poppy’s encounter with Senator Wentworth during the VIP event.

  “How would you describe the Senator’s state of mind? Did he seem healthy to you?” Nathan asked.

&n
bsp; “He seemed to be slipping a cog. Talking about the past. Jenny Beth interrupted him several times to get him on track. I guess he looked healthy enough. It’s hard to tell, you know? With older people, that is.”

  “How about when you visited him at home? Did he seem well?”

  “He was in la-la land. Poppy said he acted that way when he visited, too.”

  “Did you bring anything? A gift of any sort? I know you were there to apologize.”

  “I picked up a bouquet of flowers at Publix.”

  “No food or drink?”

  “No.”

  “Prior to the event at your store, did you know how your grandmother died? Did your grandfather ever talk about it?”

  “No. It was all news to me. On the way to Jupiter Island, Honora told me that I favor my grandmother. She seems to think that was one of the reasons that Poppy got so emotional. Honora thinks it was a triple whammy. Seeing me, the fact I’m almost the same age as my grandmother when she died, and because the anniversary of her death is coming up.”

  Nathan opened his hands in a “what gives” sort of gesture. “So it wasn’t like your family harbored this grudge against the Wentworths for decades. This isn’t a Hatfield and McCoy sort of vendetta.”

  “Not at all,” I said. “Just so you know, Poppy dropped by the store right after we got word that the Senator had died. When Honora told Poppy what had happened, I thought my grandfather was going to have a heart attack. He was stunned to hear that the Senator had died. Poppy might be a lot of things, but he's no actor. You have to remember that my grandfather went to their place to apologize. For a man like him, that doesn't come easily. He didn't go to make trouble."

  "Had you ever met the Wentworths before they came to your VIP event?"

  "No. I'd never even heard of them. As a matter of fact, they crashed my event. They didn't bother to call and RSVP. I know that because we made name tags for everyone who had phoned in."

  “When did Honora join your staff?" Nathan asked.