Grave Expectations on Dickens' Dune

by Anna Celeste Burke

  Ricardo Cantinela couldn’t have been more charming or polite. Neely was right about the middle-aged gentleman’s stunning features. He was perfectly groomed, too. The hand that held the elevator door was manicured, and I had no doubt the resort clothes he wore were expensive. I waited as Neely typed information into her phone. Domino was exploring the area around us until we moved again after a telltale whoosh indicated Neely’s message was hurtling toward Charly’s phone.

  “Domino didn’t seem to be bothered by him, but I’m too paranoid to make light of a chance encounter with anyone. Even a handsome, well-spoken, charmer with big, blue eyes. Maybe it was the ring on his hand,” I said.

  “It obviously wasn’t a wedding ring, but maybe it’s a flashy gift from a lady friend. This is the sort of place that attracts gigolos.”

  “You’ve spent more time with Hollywood types in places like this than I have, so I’ll take your word for it. He was better dressed than I am, so I’m more likely to be a gold digger.”

  “Gigolos and gold diggers always show up dressed to kill, Miriam. I can take care of it if you’re feeling underdressed. Did you pack any of the resort clothes that I bought you at Two?”

  “No, that would have been a great idea. I thought we were here on the less fashionable business of snooping and that we were going to stay at the Schooner Inn.” Neely glanced at her phone before tucking it back into a shoulder bag. When her hand came out, she held her wallet.

  “I have a credit at the shops. Hang on. Let me see. Oh, yes, there’s plenty. We’ve got time and money. Let’s swing by, and get you something nice to wear.”

  “Neely, this has got to stop!”

  “Why? I don’t have a real daughter. I enjoy having a pretend one. Besides, I’m beholden to you for the insurance payout. And, I’m guessing that Nick Martinique isn’t too old to appreciate a little attention from an attractive, well-dressed woman.” She lifted her shades and raised her eyebrows a couple of times. “I’ll do your makeup, and we’ll fit you out to play femme fatale if need be.”

  I stopped, rendered speechless for a second time in less than an hour by the woman standing there. The wild gleam in her green eyes behind thick glasses was a perfect counterpart to the riotous salt and pepper curls that hung unrestrained below her shoulders. I leaned in and gave her a big hug.

  “You know what? Let’s save the shopping for tomorrow. I have a notion there’s a better way to open a conversation with Nick Martinique. I’m going to dress down, not up—if they don’t have a dress code at The Maiden Inn. In fact, all I need to do when we get back from the beach is change my shirt.” I told her which shirt I had in mind, and what I’d seen on the Internet that made me think it might work better as an icebreaker than a tight skirt and décolletage.

  “There’s no dress code. The place is offbeat but a local favorite,” Neely said.

  “That’s an excellent characterization of the pictures I saw. Most of the patrons were dressed for the beach.”

  “Yep. I’ll bet casual and offbeat suits him to a T, don’t you think?”

  “You’re right. Offbeat could also explain how someone hired an ex-convict and drug addict as a night manager.”

  Neely nodded in agreement with me and then dashed ahead as Domino and I hustled to catch up with her. My scheme was simple enough. If only I could take Domino along with us to dinner, but that seemed far-fetched.

  “Hey, Neely, any chance they allow dogs in the outside dining area?”

  “Ooh! That’s brilliant, Miriam. Even better than wearing your Animal Rescue Walkathon t-shirt with Domino’s picture on it! Let me give them a call and ask.” A minute later, she gave me a thumbs up. I was elated until we turned the corner, and I glanced up at the man on the balcony.

  “Don’t look now, but Ricardo Cantinela is standing on his balcony. I’d like to believe he’s hanging out there to catch the sunset. No binoculars like Jimmy Dunn at Dickens’ Dune, but the alarms are going off in my head.”

  “How do you like that? Maybe he’s infatuated with you, Miriam, but I don’t like another coincidental sighting of the handsome fellow so soon any more than you do. I’m going to text Charly and ask her to sic Hank on him. Match my stride, will you?” She whipped out her phone and began snapping pictures of the beach and ocean, and then she turned and clicked away, taking several pictures of the resort.

  “Did you get him?” I asked as she thumbed through the pictures on her phone.

  “They’re not great, but Charly or Hank can find someone to enhance them.” I ran a little with Domino and then did a phony spin, positioning myself to check out the balcony again. Ricardo Cantinela was gone.

  Where is he? I wondered. Who is he? This time, when Neely’s phone issued that whoosh sound, I jumped out of my skin. The sound was barely audible above the pounding of the waves, but still loud enough to startle me.

  “It’s okay, Miriam. We’re probably overreacting and should take Dickens’ admonition seriously for now. “Circumstances may accumulate so strongly even against an innocent man, that directed, sharpened, and pointed, they may slay him.”

  “I hear you. I’m willing to admit that being confronted by a thug who turns up dead minutes later, may have me jumping to conclusions about an innocent man.”

  As a rosy pink appeared in the sky, I called Domino to me. She’d calmed down, but I didn’t need to exhaust her. We weren’t going to leave her in our suite to snooze. We had another man to meet who clearly wasn’t always an innocent man. While he’d served his time for his drug-related misdeeds, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had a hand in the murder of Allen Rogow.

  10 Bah! Humbug!

  “Bah!” said Scrooge, “Humbug.” ~ A Christmas Carol

  ∞

  “Nick Martinique spent a few months at The Men’s Colony for his third drug-related offense in two years. Not at the same time as Allen Rogow, but the following year. His stint did overlap with Leonard Cohen, although his police record doesn’t tell us if they palled around together. Nick was a model citizen, completed treatment while he was in the facility, and they released him early.”

  “Let me clarify what you’re saying, aloud, so Neely can hear it, okay, Charly? She may have questions.”

  “Sure.”

  “When Nick was sent to The Men’s Colony, Leonard Cohen was there, and Allen Rogow had been released. Was that before Allen disappeared or after?” I asked Charly.

  “After. I’ve been working on a timeline to track where Allen and each of his felonious associates were before and after he vanished. I’ll send you a copy, so you’ll have it to check against whatever story Nick Martinique gives you if I can get it done that fast. That’s assuming he’ll speak to you.”

  “A timeline to track who was in prison when would really be helpful, given the dubious company Allen kept.” Neely bobbed her head up and down in enthusiastic support of my comment. “Mark Viceroy, Nick Martinique, and even Wendy Ballard all seem capable of killing him, if Leonard Cohen had it right, and he was murdered.”

  “Since we don’t have a time of death for Allen, it’s hard to give anyone an alibi—except Judith, of course, who was out of the area for the entire few days that Allen was in and around Dickens’ Dune.”

  “Even though there wasn’t a body on Dickens’ Dune, the call to the police about finding Allen’s dog tags must help narrow down the window of time in which a murder might have occurred,” I suggested.

  “True, but I haven’t found anything yet that says the police had much to go on about who might have been in the area with him. Wendy and Nick used each other as an alibi, and Wendy claimed her car wasn’t working and was in the shop. Nick backed her up on that, too.”

  “Did the police bother to check to see if her car really was in the shop for service?”

  “Yes. On the face of it, she seems to have been telling the truth. It would have raised questions for me, though, that the garage was owned by one of Allen’s Army buddies—Thomas Hilton—now deceased. Judith
said she gave the police his name, along with those of Allen’s other Army buddies, but their investigation was focused more on a missing person rather than a murdered one. Who knows if they even dug deep enough to discover that the owner of the garage was one of the men who might have been with Allen when that mishap occurred on Dickens’ Dune?”

  “Okay, that is interesting, Charly. I can understand the Army buddies closing ranks if one of them was involved in killing Allen. What I don’t get is how Wendy Ballard figures into the picture.”

  “I like your plan for catching Nick off guard. Putting him at ease by appealing to his love of animals and taking Domino along to win him over might work. I reviewed the photos you sent, and you’re right that he and the owners of The Maiden Inn have been active in their support of animal rescue efforts. It’ll take some skill to keep him from bolting when you shift from small talk to the real reason for your visit, but if anyone can pull it off, you and Neely can. Even if he bolts, he might get back to you later once he calms down.”

  “If Nick Martinique has grown any wiser with age, he’ll consider the possibility that the police might be looking into the matter again. Neely and I are easier to talk to than the cops,” I said.

  “I agree. Here’s another point to work into the conversation if you need more leverage. Assuming Nick Martinique’s not the killer, whoever did kill Allen might not be happy that Leonard has rekindled interest in the cold case. Nick needs to realize he’s a loose end if he has any information about Allen Rogow’s demise that he hasn’t already shared with the police.”

  “That’s sure true if Mark Viceroy is the culprit. He’s ruthless, given the carnage he and the other inmates caused while they were in prison at Calipatria.” I got the shivers again just talking about him after reading about the Calipatria incident last night. It was another reason that I had so much trouble sleeping. “I can’t believe he’s still alive and a free man.”

  “He’s still alive, although it’s not clear for how long. Much of his last few months of incarceration were spent in the infirmary dealing with serious kidney problems. If Joe and Carl can’t get a lead on his whereabouts from anyone in the veterans clubs they’re visiting today, maybe someone at the VA dialysis center will recognize his name and can tell them where he’s living.”

  “If he’s that sick, he ought to be cooling his heels rather than stalking Nick Martinique or anyone else. Good luck getting the medical staff to answer questions about a patient,” I said, sighing.

  “They won’t have to ask questions about anything in Mark Viceroy’s medical record. Joe will get creative if need be. I’ve also sent the information to Midge.”

  “That’s a great idea. Midge can work the rumor mill. After what went on at Calipatria, Mark Viceroy’s reputation must precede him wherever he goes.”

  “I think so, too. Let’s see what Midge can do with her connections to insiders who trust her,” Charly added with what I sensed as hesitation in her voice as if she hadn’t quite finished her sentence. When she didn’t speak, I did.

  “I’ll review our conversation with Neely on our way to dinner,” I said ready to get a move on.

  “Speaking of people with connections, I’ve got news about your mystery man.” My heart skipped a beat.

  “Don’t tell me, Ricardo Cantinela is a well-known con artist who bilks rich women out of their money.” I tried to sound lighthearted, but Charly’s tone had been sobering. “He’s wasting his time if that’s why he’s introduced himself to me.”

  “That’s not it,” she responded. My heart skipped two beats. “Miriam, Ricardo Cantinela’s connections aren’t the romantic kind. He’s in business with the mob. Before you panic, he’s not a hired gun, he’s a lawyer.”

  “Good grief! He’s more likely to pass for a male model than a mob lawyer. Neely and I had him pegged as a gigolo.” Neely, who was ready to go, had Domino on her leash and had her hand on the doorknob. She stopped and turned to face me.

  “Apparently, he’s a first-rate lawyer. Once I figured out who he was, I called Hank, who says there’s a reason he’s in town. The police picked up a suspect in Jimmy Dunn’s murder. After the incidents at Shakespeare Cottage, our security people installed surveillance cameras like the ones Joe bought. One of them caught a picture of a guy striding across the golf course not far from where Jimmy Dunn met his end. Even though it wasn’t a great shot, it was good enough to identify him when he tried to get on a plane at the San Luis Obispo Regional Airport yesterday. ‘Lawyer’ was the first word out of his mouth.”

  “Ricardo Cantinela didn’t waste any time, did he?” I snapped.

  “No, he did not. I’m sure he’s working on some procedural angle to spring the man the police have in custody. A few images on a surveillance camera are circumstantial evidence at best. Unless they come up with something else, quickly, they’re not going to be able to keep him locked up for long. Ricardo Cantinela’s speedy arrival on the scene reassures me that Jimmy Dunn’s movements were being tracked. Yours, too, Miriam. I don’t believe it was an accident Cantinela showed up at the same resort and contacted you soon after you arrived.”

  “How worried should I be?”

  “If they planned to kill you, Miriam, I doubt he would have bothered to introduce himself.”

  “He didn’t apologize either after his dead associate scared the daylights out of me. What is going on?”

  “I don’t know, and neither does Hank, but we both agree no one is likely to mess with you now that Cantinela’s involved. You can bet that the authorities are watching his every move.”

  “I guess that’s good as long as I don’t get caught in the crossfire while they play this cat and mouse game. I’m pretty sure I’m the mouse. This is the most gorgeous resort I’ve ever seen. It would be a shame to see it riddled with bullet holes—assuming I live to see it.” Charly chuckled.

  “Very funny. Go about your business,” Charly snorted. “I’m trying to reassure you that our earlier conversation about Jimmy Dunn being a rogue elephant was on target.”

  “Rogue elephants have a way of trampling everything in their path. Thanks for the heads up about Cantinela.”

  I said goodbye to Charly and put away my phone. As we rode to the lobby, Neely and I chatted about the slick mob lawyer. “I hope he found the lie about my last name amusing. I’d rather have him laughing at me than angry enough to wring my neck.”

  “He didn’t appear to be angry,” Neely said. When the door opened, we scanned the corridor just in case he was waiting to bump into us again. “I don’t see him, do you?”

  “No,” I replied, hustling into the lobby, still watchful. “Just because we can’t see him, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have someone watching us.”

  I felt conspicuous and exposed as I crossed the lobby. As always, Domino drew the lion’s share of the attention. Neely’s car was waiting when we exited the lobby. Still, I didn’t relax until we were on our way to The Maiden Inn.

  “I never thought I’d say this, but chatting up a possible murder suspect seems like a lark compared to hanging out at a five-star resort with that blue-eyed devil lurking around,” I said.

  “Who wouldn’t be anxious with a representative of Murder Incorporated putting the moves on them?” Neely asked.

  “The Big Bad Wolf is trying to lure Little Red Riding Hood into his lair,” I harrumphed. “Bah! Humbug!”

  “Grandma’s right here with you. He won’t get a free pass from this grand old lady.” I chortled at Neely’s remark.

  “We’re wise to him now. He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing even if he’s not wearing one of your nightgowns.” We both had a good laugh at that. Then I started at the beginning and tried to pass along in detail all the latest information from Charly.

  “Nick Martinique has to be savvier now that he’s all grown up. He was a baby back then. From what Judith told us, he was a doped-up dupe following Wendy Ballard around like her lap dog.”

  “Maybe the doped-up dupe needed dru
gs he couldn’t pay for and lost it when Allen Rogow refused to give them to him.”

  “That could be,” Neely agreed. “Raging killer drug fiend fits Wendy Ballard better than Nick Martinique from what Charly has learned about her criminal record. Allen had a rough go of it in Vietnam, but he made it back alive. Whoever killed him had to be someone close to him. I find it hard to believe either Nick or Wendy got the upper hand with him. My money’s on Mark Viceroy or one of Allen’s other Army buddies as his killer.”

  “Mark Viceroy gives me the shivers. He stands out among Allen’s so-called friends as the most vicious. Desperation can trump friendship, can’t it? That’s what I keep telling myself when it comes to understanding how Pete managed to get me into a situation that involves a personal introduction from a mob lawyer. One to whom I lied, by the way.”

  “I’m sure he found it funny. He lied, too, when he pretended that he didn’t know who we were.”

  Neely patted my arm and then switched on her turn signal. We had no problem spotting The Maiden Inn. Finding a parking place was a breeze too. Much to my surprise, Nick Martinique wasn’t hard to find either. While we waited at the entrance to the outdoor seating area, I elbowed Neely.

  “Domino’s working her magic. Look who has a smile on his face.” Nick Martinique wore a brightly colored aloha shirt, shorts, and sandals. He hadn’t changed much from the photo I’d found. He was a little older, and his hair was wispier as the breeze blew through it. The smile on his face faded as his eyes moved from Domino to us.

  “Follow me, and I’ll show you to your table, Ms. Webster.” I’d started to do just that until he addressed me by name. No introductions required.

  “Thanks, Mr. Martinique.” When we reached our table, Domino went to work on him. He obviously couldn’t resist the sweet girl who wiggled and whipped his leg with her tail. It was a cool night, so there weren’t many of us seated on the large patio. Strings of tiny lights above us flickered as air blowing in from offshore caused them to sway ever so slightly. Given the chill in the air, I was grateful the heaters had been turned on. Although, not all the chilliness had anything to do with the ocean breeze. Once we were seated and a server took our drink orders, Nick pulled up a seat and joined us.