by Eve Calder
Kate patted her friend’s shoulder.
“She didn’t have a drinking problem,” Ben said. “She never went to rehab. And it turns out she wasn’t even Caroline Drummond. She was a con artist name Peggy-Ann Moffat. She’d replaced Caroline Drummond—the real Caroline Drummond—long before she met Harp or moved here.”
“How?” Kate asked. “Did Harp know?”
“He did,” Ben said removing his hat and rubbing his forehead. “And that’s a very long story. The short version is Peggy-Ann befriended Caroline Drummond about fifteen years ago. The Drummond kid had lost her family—and was more than a little lost herself. Peggy-Ann cozied up to Caroline—adopted her wardrobe, aped her look. When Caroline died in a car accident about a year later, Peggy-Ann just stepped into her shoes. The two were riding in the same car. And they looked enough alike. Plus Caroline didn’t have any close family left. Just Joel. And everyone assumed he was dead.”
“So who’s Alvin?” Maxi asked.
“Joel Drummond,” Ben said. “The trustee was right. He’d finally gotten his act together. And after he’d been clean for a while, he decided to look up his sister. But when he showed up here, instead of Caroline, he found Peggy-Ann.”
“And she killed him?” Maxi asked softly.
Ben nodded. “That’s what Harper claims. And I have to say, so far I believe him. What he’s telling us fits the evidence we have currently. She stored the body in one of the outbuildings here. On the edge of the property. Padlocked, so no one would find it.”
“That when she did her bit trying to age it, too?” Manny asked.
Ben nodded. “Chemicals. And I have a couple of crime-lab folks who’d have loved to see her do jail time for that alone. Gave ’em a devil of a time.”
“But why did she bury the poor guy behind the flower shop?” Maxi asked. “She has a beautiful big yard.”
“She didn’t want Harp to find out,” Ben said. “The morning after the party, Harp left town. Some wine symposium in Orlando. Didn’t get back until Sunday night.”
“Can you prove your guy Harp was really there?” Manny asked skeptically.
Ben nodded. “We tracked his phone. And there were enough people who remembered him there throughout the event. He’s pretty popular among that crowd, too.”
“So by the time he got home…” Kate started.
“My yard had a new occupant. And because it was all one big dirt pile anyway, no one noticed.”
Ben nodded, leaning back against the side of Maxi’s Jeep. “Over the next few days, your lawn service covered it with sod and no one was the wiser,”
“Cold,” Manny said. “That lady was stone-cold.”
“For what it’s worth, I think the fault lines in that marriage were real,” Ben said. “And it only got worse over the next week.”
“What do you mean?” Kate asked, concerned.
“We think the confrontation with Joel was Wednesday,” Ben said. “Probably afternoon. Friday night, Peggy-Ann is throwing her big party. And she has no way of knowing if Joel was alone. Or who he might have told he was coming here. She’d eliminated one problem. But she knew it might not be the last.”
“Everyone said she was pretty high-strung the night of the party,” Kate said.
“Sunny told me she’d been bawling out the help all night,” Maxi added. “Said she should have been riding a broom instead of wearing a crown. After that night, I think everybody in town kinda felt sorry for Harp.”
“Well, she had practically everyone in Florida coming to that bash,” Ben said. “Including some pretty big names in state law enforcement.”
“When did Harp find out what had happened?” Kate asked.
“A week or so later, when Caroline tried to kill Maxi,” Ben said somberly.
Maxi’s eyes went wide. Her mouth dropped open, but no sound emerged.
Kate reached over and patted her shoulder. Oliver, wedged between them, nuzzled Maxi’s cheek. She stroked his head rhythmically.
“Why?” the florist finally asked.
Ben went silent. Kate could tell he was weighing his words.
“Did it have something to do with the flower?” Kate asked. “The long-stemmed red rose?”
Ben nodded. “Before Joel went to his sister’s house, he stopped off at the flower shop. He wanted to bring Caroline red roses. Apparently, they were her favorite. Peggy-Ann realized the flowers were evidence, so she got rid of them. Threw them in with everything else. But she was worried. She knew how friendly you were, Maxi. You talk to everyone. And she was afraid Joel might have shared something with you while he was in your shop. Why he was in town. Who he was visiting. She was convinced you were a loose end.”
Maxi shook her head in disbelief. “Caroline and I—we weren’t super close,” she said softly. “But I thought she was my friend.”
“Right after you guys returned from Miami, Harp caught her putting something in your drink at a party. So he knocked into you and spilled the drink out of your hand,” Ben said. “Made it look like an accident. Later, he doctored Peggy-Ann’s drink with some meds he had for his back. The effect had her stumbling around like she’d had a few too many.”
“I remember that whole evening,” Maxi breathed. “Not a fun party.”
“Was he trying to make her sleepy, or get her to tell him why she did it?” Kate asked.
“Both,” Ben said. “And that’s the night he learned about Joel.”
“Talk about having your shorts in the wringer,” Manny said, shaking his head.
“By this time, Harp was frantic,” Ben said. “He couldn’t let Peggy-Ann out of his sight, for fear of what she’d do. But he wasn’t ready to come to us yet, either.”
“She’d have claimed he did it,” Kate said quietly.
Ben nodded. “And Peggy-Ann wouldn’t tell him where she put the body. She was taunting him with it.”
“So why did everyone in town think Caroline had a drinking problem?” Kate asked.
“From there on, Harp was keeping her drugged,” Ben said. “Just enough to make her woozy. To keep her at home. And prevent her from hurting anyone. And he was checking on her constantly. Even so, she managed to get out once or twice. I’m guessing at this point the guy was pretty much sleeping with one eye open.”
“It’s awful, but I don’t remember Joel,” Maxi said. “That was right before we left for Miami. I was running around getting ready. So most of the time, there was someone else at the counter.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure this wasn’t just about you,” Ben said gently. “When Harp saw how easily Peggy-Ann dispatched Joel, and how little it bothered her to try it a second time with you, I think the penny finally dropped.”
“That Caroline Drummond’s car ‘accident’ was no accident,” Manny murmured. “Your friend Peggy-Ann did it.”
Ben nodded. “Harp had always known Peggy-Ann’s real identity. And where her money—their money—came from. I think the guy had some romanticized notion that they were a couple of fun-loving grifters living on found money. The real Caroline Drummond hadn’t had any relatives, and she was gone. I think he rationalized that all that wealth would have just been sitting in a bank vault somewhere gathering dust.”
“And interest,” Manny said.
“Well, to give the man credit, living on found money was one thing,” Ben said. “Killing for it was another. After he learned the truth, our friend Harp began to crack.”
“At one point, he started smoking again,” Kate said. “I remember that.”
“A couple of times,” Ben confirmed.
Manny shook his head. “Stress.”
“But what happened to Caroline?” Maxi asked, softly. “I mean, Peggy-Ann. How?”
“Harp says that he’d finally come to the conclusion he had to turn her in—turn them both in. He tried talking with Caroline—sorry, Peggy-Ann—one last time. To reason with her. Turns out she’d caught on to the sedatives. And she’d managed to avoid the last few do
ses. So she got the drop on him. Brained him with a lamp and made a run for it. Now, the rest of this is just Harp’s story. He says he caught up with Peggy-Ann just as she reached the staircase. Grabbed her shoulder. She wrenched free. But the momentum carried her right down the stairs. And that tumble killed her.”
“You believe that?” Manny asked.
“Absent concrete evidence, I’m reserving judgment,” Ben said evenly. “Let’s see what we learn in the next few days.”
“So he still didn’t know where Joel was?” Kate asked.
“Not a clue,” Ben said. “Even after you guys found the skeleton, he wasn’t sure. I mean, no reason Joel would have been wearing high black boots with silver buckles. Or pirate clothes. Plus, you two discovered an actual skeleton—what appeared to be an older burial. Then he remembered those costumes that his wife had rented for the party. And I think he figured out the rest.”
“So by the time the Coral Cay Irregulars met to talk about Gentleman George…” Kate started.
“The last thing he wanted was hordes of people digging up the island,” Ben finished. “He wanted the whole thing to go away.”
“And all this time he covered Caroline’s disappearance by saying she’d gone to rehab,” Maxi said. “And then later that she was traveling through Europe.”
Ben shrugged. “I think some part of his brain hoped that everything would just go back to normal.”
“That explains why he played the suitor with me,” Kate said. “If he’d been successful, Evan would have left Coral Cay a lot sooner. And taken the Thorpe Family Foundation funding with him. And without Evan stoking the frenzy over Gentleman George, interest would have naturally waned.”
Ben grinned. “Uhh, I don’t think that was the total reason for that. Do I think he wanted to distract you from nosing around the burial in Maxi’s yard? Oh yeah. But the guy had it bad long before that. It was all over his face whenever you were around. Grifter or not, that was one true thing he couldn’t hide. And, I believe that some part of his brain realized that it was now or never. So he was pulling out all the stops.”
Kate looked down at the grass. Maxi patted her back.
“Wait a minute—that’s why the DNA didn’t match,” Kate said. “Joel was Joel. But Caroline wasn’t the real Caroline.”
“Exactly,” Ben said. “And don’t I feel like a schmuck for trying to cut the guy a little slack to save his marriage.”
“Happens to all of us,” Manny said, stroking John Quincy’s side as he leaned back against the tree.
“Why dress him like a pirate?” Maxi asked.
“I think I know the answer to that one,” Kate said. She looked up at Ben, who nodded.
“She didn’t,” Kate said. “She threw Teddy Randolph’s party costume into the hole, hoping to implicate him, if the remains were ever found. He didn’t have a steady job. He moved around a lot. He’d already gotten in a few scrapes.”
“So when I saw those silver buckles and thought of Gentleman George Bly…” Maxi started.
“A totally unforeseen complication,” Kate said. “As was our Oliver digging deep enough to find the bones in the first place. And I’m guessing Harper Duval isn’t really from New Orleans?”
Ben shook his head. “His name isn’t even Harper Duval. Grew up dirt poor in Alabama. Somehow, after Peggy-Ann Moffat became Caroline Drummond, these two found each other. And they’ve been living high off of Caroline’s trust fund for ten years. It wasn’t hard. The Drummond family’s gone. They thought Joel was gone. And the trustees overseeing the account have changed a few times over the years, as the original bank was acquired and merged and changed hands. No one had any reason to believe that Caroline wasn’t really Caroline. Harper and Peggy-Ann were even smart enough to move to an out-of-the-way spot where no one knew either of them—or the real Caroline Drummond.”
Ben studied each of their faces in turn. “So what exactly were the three of you doing over here tonight?”
“I was promised a home-cooked meal,” Manny said.
“Returning books,” Maxi said. “Pirate books.”
Ben looked at Kate. “And you, Little Miss Innocent?”
“It was a cookie recipe,” she said simply. “Peggy-Ann discovered that Rosie Armand had a trove of authentic New Orleans recipes. Stuff that had been passed down in her family for generations. So she stole it. I’m guessing she’d have used it here and there over the years to bolster Harp’s claim of a long New Orleans pedigree. Unfortunately, shortly after she took it, she died.
“Then when Harp needed a recipe for the cookie contest—one with a distinct New Orleans flavor, in keeping with his persona—he copied one out of the book,” she continued. “He had no idea Peggy-Ann had stolen that book. Let alone that she’d stolen it from someone right here in Coral Cay. He just picked something that looked good and entered it in the contest—claiming it was his mother’s own recipe.
“But Rosie recognized it,” Kate added. “Then she realized her family cookbook was missing. I was just here trying to get it back.”
Ben smiled and shook his head. “A long con that went on for a dozen years or more. Drained millions out of one of the biggest banks in Boston. Fooled countless law enforcement pros, including yours truly. And you’re telling me it all unraveled because of a couple of cookies?”
Chapter 68
As the sun climbed in the blue South Florida sky, the morning air was cool and moist.
“I can’t believe Sunny is doing this,” Maxi said, as she maneuvered the Jeep over the washboard road and around a hairpin turn. “You think in spite of everything, she really wants to know what happened to Gentleman George?”
“I think she already knows,” Kate said. “But I wouldn’t mind finding out the truth. Speaking of which, are you doing OK with the whole Harp thing? You haven’t said much about it this past week.”
“I’m not sure how I feel exactly,” Maxi admitted. “Part of me wants to say ‘thank you,’ and the other part of me wants to kick him in the shins.”
“That seems fair. He did kind of save your life.”
“That’s what mi amor said. Then he recused himself from Harp’s case. I know one thing. Whatever the guy’s real name is, to me he’ll always be Harper Duval.”
“Did you ever find out what Peter was hiding?” Kate asked.
“His boss is retiring. And the guy wants Peter to run for state’s attorney.”
“Maxi, that’s wonderful!”
“Yes and no. Right after that, we found Mr. Bones. So Peter didn’t know if they’d still want him. And he was worried that maybe his job was somehow the reason we got Alvin in the first place. Plus, the new job would be a big change. A lot more hours. A lot of time campaigning. And we’re really happy right now.”
“So what did he decide?”
“He hasn’t. But I told him the same thing he always tells me—whatever you want, I’m all for it. And I mean it.”
“Have you noticed the tourist crowds really are thinning out?”
“It’s the annual cycle, corizon. Treasure fantasies or vacations, sooner or later people got to get back to their real lives.”
“Speaking of which, Evan finally left town this morning,” Kate said.
“Are you sure? ’Cause that boy seemed pretty set on taking you back to Manhattan with him.”
“Officially, the Thorpe Family Foundation believes that the Gentleman George project can be better supported remotely by its New York offices due to economies of scale.”
“And unofficially?” Maxi asked.
“Evan got bored and wanted to go home.”
“Sounds about right. At least I got a puppy out of the deal. OK, I think this is the turnoff to Iris’s place.”
From the road, it was marked by a barely visible gap between overgrown bushes. But once they made the turn, they could see a little cottage at the end of the gravel lane.
To Kate, it looked like a scene from a fairy tale. Or something she might create out
of gingerbread. A snug little house with a slate roof surrounded by a beautiful garden. Everything seemed to be blooming at once.
“This is incredible,” Kate said. “Does Iris do all this herself?”
“Yup,” Maxi said, as she shifted the car into park. “She lives here by herself, too. You should see the back. It’s on an inlet that goes out to the water. Really pretty.”
“Hey, there’s Sunny,” Kate said, waving.
Sunny Eisenberg, clad in a brown silk T-shirt with a matching wrap skirt and sandals, waved back from beneath a rose trellis heavy with large pink flowers.
“You girls must have found it on your first pass,” she said, as they trundled up the walkway. “Most people run past it a couple of times—even when they’ve been here before.”
“Sunny, your mom’s place is beautiful,” Kate said, astonished.
The air was cool, and the gentle breeze smelled of roses mingled with salt water.
“It’s a nice spot. And the home’s been here a long time. Rumor has it, this is the site where Gentleman George and his men camped. Later, someone put up a cabin. Then it became a cottage. And now here we are. But we don’t want that to get out,” she said, putting a finger to her lips.
“Mom’s still in the Poconos tormenting my brother George,” she confided with a grin. “But she had a couple of boxes that she thought might be useful. I’ll get you set up, then I have to take off for the studio. Just lock up when you’re done, and you can drop off the key.”
Everything in the cottage was neat and sized to fit, Kate noticed. Like a dollhouse. And it smelled faintly of lavender.
“I’ve put everything out on the back porch,” Sunny explained, leading them out to a bright screened enclosure that looked out onto the water. “It’s nice and cool, even without air-conditioning. And I thought a pitcher of iced lemonade might hit the spot.”
Iris’s porch functioned more like an outdoor room, Kate noted—with cozy chairs and a big central table holding stacks of books and, on this occasion, a collection of boxes.
Off to one side, there was a small flowered sofa with two more chairs. A conversation nook. She could easily picture curling up on the couch with a good read and a cold drink on a warm afternoon.
