Sapphire Beach Cozy Mystery Collection

by Angela K Ryan

Once she got back upstairs, she rifled through her aunt's address book and found Paula's apartment number. Remembering that she used to take care of Concetta's plants, Connie quickly wrote out a thank-you note on a blank card she found in Concetta's desk and tucked it in her pocket. Perfect. That would give her a solid excuse to stop by Paula's and ask her a few questions. The rest of her work around the house would hold until later.

  She thought about taking a photo of Ginger with her to see if the woman knew anyone who might want a dog but decided against it. If Paula was a killer, she wasn't getting her hands on that sweet dog.

  Paula lived in unit 1301, one of the penthouse apartments. Connie knocked on the door and was greeted by a woman with short, blond hair that was slightly disheveled. She looked to be in her mid-fifties and wore a long sleeveless, cotton lavender dress, revealing well-defined shoulders and biceps. Now that she saw her, Connie vaguely remembered meeting her at Concetta's wake.

  "Hi Paula, my name is Connie Petretta - Concetta Belmonte's niece. I just stopped by to give you this," she said, handing her the card. "I wanted to thank you in person for all you did for my aunt. I understand you took fantastic care of her beloved plants." Connie felt a twinge of guilt implicating her aunt's name in a white lie, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Paula smiled halfheartedly. "Oh, yes, of course." Her eyes met Connie’s, but her gaze seemed distant. "Your aunt was a wonderful woman. Please come in."

  She followed Paula into a living room that looked as if it were straight from a designer magazine. Light gray tiles, designed to look like weathered wooden planks, covered every square inch of the visible floor, and teal pillows accented the white living room sofas and chairs. Exquisite vases and accessories in complimenting blues and greens were tastefully arranged throughout the space. It felt both beachy and high-end. Paula certainly wasn't a plant nanny for the money. She must love the work.

  The penthouse was larger than Concetta's condo. Its most striking feature was a sun-drenched solarium adjacent to the balcony.

  "Go ahead and take a look while I pour us some coffee," she said, setting down Connie's unopened card on one of the end tables and disappearing into the kitchen. A portrait of a younger Hank with two teenage boys relaxing on a sailboat hung on one of the walls, with several other family photos scattered throughout the living room and dining room areas.

  The curved glass solarium housed potted palms, hanging plants, and an array of colorful flowers from red pentas to white cat's whiskers. The colors appeared even more vibrant against the backdrop of the glistening waters below.

  While Connie was admiring a potted hydrangea, Paula returned with a tray carrying two teal mugs in the same shade as the accent pillows and a matching teal and white creamer and sugar bowl. She placed them on the coffee table and joined Connie in the solarium.

  "This little indoor garden is my pride and joy." Paula’s face brightened. "My sister says that's because, unlike men, when you invest your time in plants, they don't betray you."

  Connie couldn't help but laugh, until she noticed the fresh pain on Paula's face. Was she referring to a recent betrayal?

  "You have quite a gift," Connie said. "I can see why people trust you with their plants."

  Paula clipped a few hydrangeas and handed them to Connie. "Something to brighten up your table," she said with a half-smile. Then she led Connie into the living room. The couch looked so pristine that she was almost afraid to sit down.

  "Thank you for the flowers," Connie said, gently placing them on her lap. "I wanted to let you know how sorry I am about the loss of your former husband." She tried to think of something kind to say about him without lying and settled on, "I only met him once, but he seemed very friendly."

  Paula’s mouth turned slightly upward but it was an emotion somewhere between hurt and anger that flashed in her eyes. "I hope he didn't get too friendly," she said, sarcasm spilling from her voice. Then she looked down and quickly added, "I shouldn't be so critical. I should remember the good times. I keep reminding myself that there were a lot of those throughout the years."

  It seemed to be a common theme with Hank. First Bob and now Paula, had expressed the same mixed feelings.

  After adding a little cream to her coffee, Connie sipped from the warm mug. The caffeine provided a welcomed boost of energy after a morning of bagging clothes. After a few sips, she asked, with as much politeness as she could muster, "Do you have any idea who might have wanted to harm your ex-husband?"

  Paula looked past Connie, as if gazing upon a far-away world. "I wish I knew. I mean, I can think of plenty of people who didn't like Hank, but to kill him? I've been wracking my brain all day.” She put her mug on the tray and leaned back on the couch. "I guess it could have been a woman he hurt or someone he treated badly personally or through business. He was a successful real estate developer who ticked more than a few people off throughout his career. There's no telling how many enemies he had."

  "Yes, but the person would have had to have access to Grace's apartment, and you were the last known person in the condo."

  Paula placed her right hand over her heart. "I hope you're not implying that it was me."

  "Of course not," Connie said, looking her directly in the eyes, hoping for some kind of telltale reaction. "I just thought since you were the last known person in there you might know something."

  "All I know," she said, standing up, "is what I told the police. I dropped off a plant that I promised Grace I would bring her. Then I left."

  Connie stood up, realizing the visit was over.

  "I couldn't have been there more than a minute," she continued. "Then I locked the door behind me and placed the key in the basket on the door, like I do every week when I tend to Grace's plants. End of story. In terms of access to the condo, have you talked to Jessica?"

  "The management employee?" Connie remembered seeing Hank lay into her in the lobby on Thursday morning.

  "Yes. Hank threatened her job on a few occasions, and she is a single mother who can't afford to be unemployed." She ushered Connie to the door. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to go to Naples to check in on my sons. As you can imagine, they are having a rough go of it."

  Connie left with her hydrangeas in hand and more questions than answers.

  Chapter 7

  After refreshing Ginger's water, Connie made a turkey sandwich and took it out to the balcony, along with some leftover salad and an iced tea. The gentle impact of waves against the packed sand and the splashing of children playing in the condo pool drifted upward. It didn’t take long for her head to clear and her mood to lift.

  As she finished lunch, a text came from Elyse. I just finished checking in on my Aunt Gertrude after yesterday's drama. Can I stop by?

  Five minutes later, they were relaxing on the balcony, each with a glass of Connie's signature lemonade.

  "I don't know why I worry about Aunt Gertrude. That woman is tough as nails," Elyse said, sipping her lemonade. "She informed me that you don't get to be eighty-eight years old by being afraid of every little thing. As if a murder were a little thing."

  "She does have a point," Connie said, smiling. "I certainly wouldn't mess with Gertrude."

  "This is amazing, by the way," Elyse said, holding up her glass.

  "It's fresh juice - mostly watermelon, with a little lemon to cut the sweetness. Sometimes I make it in the morning if I know I'm going to be home most of the day," Connie said, pleased at the expression of enjoyment on her new friend's face. Connie wanted to talk about the case, but she didn't want to overstep any bounds, especially since Elyse was married to one of the investigating officers. She was playing with her bracelet – one that she had recently made from purple sea glass - and debating internally whether to bring it up when Elyse said, "I hear you've been asking around about Hank O'Rourke."

  Connie's jaw dropped. "Word sure travels fast around here. I keep forgetting what a small town Sapphire Beach is."

  "It is. And Palm
Paradise is like a neighborhood within a small town. It's hard to keep a secret around here, if you haven't figured that out yet. It can be a pain, but it's also comforting at times. People watch out for each other."

  "I think that's one of the things my aunt loved about living here. So, are you going to tell me to mind my own business and let the police handle it?"

  "As Josh's wife, that's what I'm saying."

  Connie looked away disappointed. She had been hoping to coax Elyse into helping or at least being a sounding board. Her knowledge of this town would have been useful.

  "But as a realtor and a friend of Grace..." she said, grinning.

  Connie's eyes widened.

  "It's hard to sell property with an open murder investigation. The buyers whom I showed that other unit in the building to yesterday were all set to place a strong offer, but they just pulled out. They are going to buy over in Bonita Springs instead, where they feel it's safer. Most of my listings are in Sapphire Beach, so that's not a good sign for business." Elyse shook her head. “But more importantly, I got to know Grace when I was showing houses to Stephanie. I know the evidence points to her, but my gut tells me that there’s no way she would ever hurt a soul, never mind kill someone.”

  Connie sighed. "Elyse, I hate to bring this up, but speaking of property values, I was thinking of holding off on listing mine as well, to be sure I get the best price."

  Elyse nodded in agreement. "I completely understand. You shouldn’t take less than what it's worth. Why don't we still go ahead and get the pictures taken, and I'll write up the listing before you leave. That way, as soon as things turn around, we'll be ready to go."

  "That sounds good."

  Elyse placed her empty glass on the table. "So now that that's settled, I'm dying to know. What did you learn in all your sleuthing today about Hank's murder?"

  Connie leaned back in her swivel chair. "Not that much, I'm afraid. Hank had so many enemies, there's no telling who he could have offended."

  "Or whose husband he could have offended," Elyse said, rolling her eyes.

  "Exactly. And being a real estate developer in the area, who knows how many enemies he made throughout his career? Plus, I saw myself how he reamed out Jessica from the management company in the lobby about a hallway not being clean enough. If that's any indication of how he treated people, the killer could literally be anyone in southwest Florida."

  Elyse stared into the distance as if the answer were somewhere on the horizon. "Yes, but not everyone in southwest Florida had access to Grace's apartment. Unless someone let him or her in, the killer would have needed a key just to get into the building. Plus, he or she would also have needed a key to Grace’s condo or at least know where she kept the spare one. The only person with a key is Stephanie, and besides you, Paula is the only one who knew where the spare key was.”

  “True,” Connie said, leaning back in her swivel chair.

  “What did your gut tell you when you talked to Paula?”

  "When I brought up Hank, she seemed bitter. And she sure ushered me out of her apartment in a hurry when I asked her about the aloe plant that she brought to Grace's the day of the murder. She had a motive, access to Grace’s condo, and no real alibi. As far as I’m concerned, there’s more of a chance that she did it than Grace. But she also suggested I talk to Jessica. Something about her being a single mom and Hank threatening her job."

  "Jessica would have a master key. And you did see Hank give her a hard time."

  "I suppose that's another possibility," Connie said.

  "Or maybe it's neither of them and the killer somehow knew where Grace kept the spare key. Maybe he or she saw Concetta or Paula use it before."

  Something didn't sit right with Connie. "That still doesn't explain how or why Hank was there in the first place. I keep going back to Paula. Bob Morgan indicated she might still be in love with Hank. I did notice a few pictures of him around the house, and she was in Grace's apartment that day. Maybe he followed her there when she dropped off the aloe plant, and they fought."

  "So, you're still leaning towards Paula?"

  "She’s the only one we know had access to Grace's condo." Connie thought about her conversation with Bob. "What's Bob's story? I talked to him this morning, too, as I'm sure you know," she said, grinning.

  Elyse suppressed a smirk and shrugged her shoulders. "He seems nice enough. I saw him come to Stephanie's rescue a couple of times when Hank got a little out of control. I know Stephanie appreciated that. But recently Hank seemed to be leaving her alone."

  Connie remembered how Bob had mentioned that Hank went after whomever he wished, no matter who it hurt. "Do you think Bob could have been attracted to Stephanie and gotten angry when he hit on her?"

  Elyse leaned her head on her hand and appeared to consider that possibility. "Even if that were true, which seems unlikely because of the age difference, it would have to be more than a simple attraction to be a motive for murder."

  "You never know."

  Elyse shook her head. "No, I think Bob was good for Hank, but Hank was also a good friend to him. Bob is a retired high school teacher. I sold him his condo after his divorce and judging from his price range, he doesn't have a ton of cash. Especially compared to Hank."

  "Hank and Paula must have done well. Paula's penthouse is amazing," Connie said, recalling Paula's solarium and high-end furniture.

  "I know. And from what I heard, Hank was pretty generous with his friends, picking up the check in restaurants, things like that. Unfortunately for Bob's ego, he wasn't discreet about it. He made sure everyone knew about his generosity."

  "What about Roger? He was with Bob at the thrift shop and was pretty abrupt towards me."

  "I think that's normal. He doesn't know you from Adam, and you're asking around about his friend's death. Maybe he thinks Grace did it, and you're covering for her. Besides, they were together when the police came, remember? I'm sure they could vouch for one another."

  Connie sighed in discouragement. "The only thing I'm sure of is that there are more questions than answers surrounding this whole thing. I think we should talk to Jessica next, especially after what Paula said. And remember, Gertrude said she took a late lunch that day, so it's possible that she has no alibi."

  "We?" Elyse said, giving Connie a sideways glance. "Being your sounding board is one thing, but Josh would kill me if I actually got involved."

  "Isn't a good realtor supposed to go above and beyond in helping her client get the best price?" Connie said, suppressing a smile.

  A mischievous expression spread across Elyse's face. "Well, I suppose if we were taking a stroll and we happen to run into her..."

  "It would be rude to just ignore her," Connie said, egging on her friend. "And I know exactly where we can run into her."

  Chapter 8

  As they EXITED the elevator, Connie and Elyse could see Jessica through the floor-to-ceiling window that separated her office from the lobby, typing away on a laptop computer. They casually wandered into the office.

  "Hi ladies," she said, looking up from her work with a polite smile.

  They took a seat in the plush leather chairs facing Jessica's mahogany desk.

  "I wanted to introduce you to Connie. She is Concetta Belmonte's niece." Connie had met Jessica before but played along, assuming Elyse was looking for a way to break the ice.

  "Of course," Jessica said, pushing her computer aside and leaning forward. "We’ve met several times during Connie’s many visits." Her smile faded. "I shouldn't have preferences, but just between us, Concetta was one of my favorite residents. She often brought homemade Italian cookies for my son and me. I've truly missed her kindness over the past several months."

  Connie thanked her.

  "It' such a tragedy, what happened to Hank," Elyse said, keeping their visit on its intended track.

  Connie studied Jessica as she shook her head and showed an appropriate expression of disgust. "Hank worked tirelessly to make Palm Paradis
e the very best residence it could be. We are grateful for his important contributions as a trustee."

  There was no doubt about Jessica’s professionalism, but it sounded like she was reading a prepared statement on behalf of the management company rather than speaking from her heart.

  "In fact," she added, "the trustees are holding an informal Celebration of Life for Hank in the Function Room upstairs on Tuesday morning at 8:00. The wake and funeral will both take place tomorrow, but the trustees thought it would nice to have something more intimate to give residents an opportunity to say a few words or share a memory of Hank. We are putting an invitation in all the mailboxes this afternoon, but I'm sure the trustees would appreciate any help spreading the word and encouraging people to attend."

  The women agreed to do what they could.

  Since the conversation wasn't going in the direction she wanted it to, Connie decided on a more direct approach. "Hank may have worked hard, but he certainly made your life more difficult. I saw him lay into you yesterday morning about the hallways not being up to his standards of cleanliness. He was a powerful man who could have gotten you fired."

  Jessica’s eyes widened, and she appeared taken aback but quickly regained her composure. "Well, that was Hank. Always on us about something. I'll admit, he was challenging at times, especially since he was elected to the Board of Trustees last year. But in this job, you learn to deal with all types of personalities. I assure you, criticism is par for the course in this business," she said.

  Elyse wasn't giving up. "Do you have any idea who might have wanted Hank dead, particularly anyone with access to Grace's condo?"

  Jessica knit her brow as she studied her visitors. "Why are you two asking so many questions? Don't you think you should let the police handle things?"

  Connie appealed to her sense of duty toward the residents of Palm Paradise. "The police seem to be focused on Grace as their primary person of interest, but we don’t believe she could possibly have done such a thing. If we are right, that means the real killer is still among us and obviously has access to the building.”