"Sounds like you have it under control. What about the murder? Have the police made an arrest yet?"
"You mean murders. The ex-wife of the first victim was killed on Monday morning."
She could hear her mother gasp on the other end of the line. "Connie, this is ridiculous. Why don't you just leave in the morning, since you have everything taken care of for Concetta?"
Given her mother's reaction, she decided against mentioning the text.
"Mom, I'm not going to let some jerk scare me out of town, no matter how sick he is. You know I've lived in dangerous situations before," she said, referring to some of her trips to developing countries.
"Yes, and I hated every minute of that, too."
Connie smiled. Her mother's concern was comforting. Even back then she knew her decisions caused her family to worry, but she had to follow the deep conviction that she was doing what she was meant to do. And she had the same belief now. "Don't worry, I'll be leaving in three days, and the worst of it will be behind me. But it's just not fair for the people who live here, good people like Grace. This is their home, and they can't just leave."
Her mother sighed. "Oh boy, you just said the magic words."
"What magic words? What are you talking about, Mom?"
"You said, 'It's just not fair.' That's what you said about the living conditions of people in impoverished areas before you spent two years in Africa and again when you took a low paying job at a non-profit. You said, 'It's just not fair that some people have so much less. I need to do what I can.' I know when you get that conviction there is nothing I or anyone else can say, no matter how dangerous the situation may be. Just promise me you'll be extra careful. There's a very sick person in that town who has already killed twice."
And threatened my life, Connie thought.
Her mom knew her well. Ironically, despite her intentions, her mother's little speech made her even more determined to do what she could to help solve this crime before leaving. Her mom was right. She never let anything stop her before. Why should she change now?
"I promise, Mom. Love you."
She had considered mentioning Elyse's idea for the jewelry shop. Her mother always brought creative insights to new ideas such as this, but under the circumstances, she decided against it. It might worry her unnecessarily, and besides, it wasn’t like Connie was seriously considering the idea. So why did she find herself thinking about it so often?
Since she didn't want to venture away from the security of the condo that night and didn't have anything pressing to do at home, Connie decided to spend the evening clearing out her email inbox for work, so there wouldn't be quite so many messages to sort through on Monday morning. But before that, she had something to look up online.
She ran a search for “medical effects of Chinese drywall.” She wanted to learn whatever she could about the subject, hoping it might contain a clue about the murders. The results were interesting. Prolonged exposure could cause breathing problems, headaches, coughing, sore throat, and itchy eyes, among other things. This Chinese drywall had been a serious problem.
When she finished the internet search, it was nearly dark, so Connie drew the blinds, heated up some water for herbal tea, and settled into an armchair with her laptop. After more than a week offline, she had her work cut out for her. She answered what messages she could and saved the others to deal with when she got back to the office.
When she first began working at Feeding the Hungry, it had been pure exhilaration. Like herself, Sam was deeply touched by what he saw living and serving in a developing country. He would always say that if you were blessed enough to live among the poorest of the poor and witness their conditions firsthand, it was impossible not to respond in some way. His way was to leave a lucrative business career and invest his time and savings into Feeding the Hungry.
As the name implied, the humanitarian organization worked with various communities in South America and Africa to support projects that help provide food, shelter, and education to those in need. There was also an emphasis on helping local business owners to succeed and, therefore, become self-sufficient and employ others. The mission of the organization still excited her. If only the daily work hadn’t become so monotonous.
After about an hour of answering emails, she was ready to call it quits when she noticed a message from Dura. Connie was always thrilled to hear from her, and she hungrily devoured news of her longtime friend and her family. It was amazing how small the world seemed these days. It had been twelve years since she lived in Kenya, but it seemed like yesterday.
As Connie played with a worn-out bracelet around her wrist, a wave of nostalgia swept over her. The black, red, and green bracelet, the same colors as the Kenyan flag, was one of her most cherished gifts. It had been given to her when she left Africa after completing her term of service, and, despite the more expensive jewelry that she owned, it was this bracelet that she wore most frequently.
As she played with the bracelet, an idea suddenly occurred her, like a boomerang returning to its thrower. It seemed so obvious that she was amazed she hadn't thought of it before. She was so excited that she couldn't sit still, so she paced around the apartment while she fit all the pieces together like a puzzle in her mind. She finally had the answer to the question in her heart, and, as usual, it arrived in all its glory at the eleventh hour.
Adrenaline coursed through her as she typed her reply to Dura's message, updating her on news from her own life, daring to describe her idea, and asking her friend for prayers. She would talk to Sam first thing in the morning to discuss the details and solicit his input, but she was pretty sure this was going to work.
She closed her computer and had the distinct feeling that sleep would be hard to come by that night. Connie picked up Ginger, who seemed to be wondering what the commotion was all about. "We might not have to find you a new home after all, sweet girl. I may be staying in Sapphire Beach!"
Chapter 18
After finally managing to fall asleep sometime after midnight, Connie was wide awake by 6:00 AM. She normally didn't function well on less than eight hours of sleep, but this morning she flew out of bed, as though she had grown wings in the night. She just may have found the missing piece she had been hoping and praying for.
During Ginger's morning walk, it was usually the dog who enthusiastically pulled her between various bushes and trees, but today Connie was the eager one, dragging Ginger along. The dog periodically glanced up at Connie, wagging her tail, sharing her excitement like the faithful friend she was.
It was still only 7:30 when she took a shower and finished breakfast. What to do for another hour until Sam got into the office, and she could discuss her plan with him? Even though he wouldn't be directly involved, having worked for him nearly her entire adult life, there weren't many people whose opinion she valued more on this subject. Plus, his contacts could be invaluable, especially in the beginning, and her idea could enhance the work of Feeding the Hungry, as well.
She thought about calling him on his cell phone, but he would be getting ready for work. She wanted his undivided attention when they talked.
With an hour still remaining, Connie did what came naturally when thoughts were flying into her head quicker than she could process them. She pulled out a pen and a pad of paper and began to make lists and timelines. She made a list of tasks she would need to accomplish before leaving Sapphire Beach on Saturday if this all worked out, a list of what she would need to do when she arrived home, another of her contacts that could prove useful, and timelines for accomplishing each multifaceted task.
She felt better getting everything down on paper in an organized manner. When her hand ached from writing fast and furiously, she put her papers into a folder in the front pocket of her laptop carrying case. She would enter the information into her computer later, but for brainstorming purposes, she preferred the old-fashioned method.
The second her cell phone indicated it was 9:00, she made the call. After d
iscussing her intention at length with Sam, he agreed that her plan could actually work. Tears of joy stung her eyes as Sam showed her more support and encouragement than she had dared to hope for.
This new plan would mark the end of an era in Connie’s life, yet at the same time, it felt like a natural continuation of her work. Sam would still play a supportive role, but it would be different. She was particularly moved by his parting words as he hung up. "I've always said that Feeding the Hungry is my child, so I guess that makes your project my grandchild." His words helped give her the courage she would need to leave Boston and follow a new star.
Now it was time to work out some of the more concrete details. She texted Elyse to see if they could meet up later that day, so she could take another look at that shop downtown, now that she had a vision.
Then she looked around, trying to figure out what would be the best use of her time while she waited for Elyse's response. She thought of calling home but decided to wait until later that night. On Thursdays, her sister and her family usually visited her parents, so if she waited, she could catch everyone at once. There wasn't much packing to be done, and it was too early to load her car for the trip home in two days. She considered going for a swim, but the morning air was a little too cool for swimming, even for a hearty New Englander.
She finally settled on brewing a mug of steaming tea and allowing her mind to wander to the murder investigation. Although her venture was only in its infancy stages of preparation, Palm Paradise felt more like home than ever. Having a killer in the midst of her new neighborhood was the only cloud hovering above her otherwise perfect plan. But it was a dark one.
Who would want to see both Hank and Paula dead? Besides their previous marriage, what connection did they have that would gain them a mutual enemy? It could have been a business dealing that both Paula and Hank had benefited from. But Paula obviously didn't agree with Hank's business practices. She knew that from Mandy, the waitress at Surfside Restaurant. And who would have stolen money and jewelry as an afterthought following Paula's murder? It had to be somebody who both wanted revenge and felt they were owed money.
It could have been Anton. He was relatively new to the cleaning staff at Palm Paradise, so maybe seeing Hank had stirred up old feelings. And Hank could easily have provoked him. He was a jerk to Jessica about his dissatisfaction with the cleaning company, so he could have had it out with Anton, as well.
And then there were those who lost money in the Royal Palm project. But that happened so long ago. The investors in the building had remained friends with Hank, so why would someone take revenge now?
As she sipped her tea, a thought suddenly occurred to her. She reached for her phone and pulled up the photos of the Royal Palm documents that she had taken at Paula's apartment following her murder and methodically read through each one. When she finished, she knew that the killer had to be one of three people.
Connie grabbed the house key and slipped it into the pocket of her khaki capri pants and placed her phone in the pocket of her navy fleece jacket. Her first stop was the lobby to find Anton. It was Thursday, so the cleaners might already be somewhere in the building.
As the elevator made its way to the lobby, she thought of how, at this time last week, Hank was still alive, and Connie's only concern was selling the condo and returning to Boston. So much had changed in a short time.
She arrived in the lobby, and sure enough, Anton was diligently polishing a vase, which decorated a round table between two seafoam-green armchairs. Pretending to check the mail, she felt a twinge of guilt as she remembered Josh's firm orders to stay out of things. But Anton was right here. Technically she wasn't going out of her way to talk to him. Besides, if she was going to make Sapphire Beach her home, she didn't want a killer to be roaming her new building, especially a killer that clearly didn't want her there.
"Hi Anton," she said, with the friendliest smile she could manage.
He nodded and gently placed the vase back on the table.
Jessica walked up and, after greeting Connie, handed Anton a gray hoodie. "Is this the sweatshirt you were looking for yesterday?"
"That's the one, thanks," he said throwing it onto the cleaning cart.
Jessica must have caught on that Connie was trying to talk to Anton, because she abruptly excused herself and disappeared into her office.
Connie's mouth went dry. If Anton stopped by yesterday looking for a lost sweatshirt, that meant he could have been on the premises when she received the threatening text. She made a mental note to ask Jessica what time he was there after she finished talking to Anton.
"Any progress on your little investigation?" he said, smirking. "Or should I say investigations. I was sorry to hear Paula was killed, too."
"From what I remember, you weren't a big fan of Paula's." She instantly wished she could take back her words. If he was the killer, that probably ticked him off.
He leaned against one of the chairs.
"Just to put your concerns to rest, I work in another building on Mondays. I was there all morning with my co-workers. They will verify that if the police feel the need to ask."
"Actually, the body was found on Monday morning, but the time of death was sometime Sunday night."
Anton ran a hand through his thick, dark hair.
"In that case, I was at home with my family all night. There is a house full of people who can verify that, as well."
Connie observed Anton while he spoke. He appeared confident and looked her in the eye. If he was lying, he was well-practiced.
"You're right. I was not their biggest fan," Anton said, in a mellow tone. "But nobody deserves what happened to them."
Connie nodded her head in agreement. He seemed to have an alibi for Paula’s murder, at least. And she didn't think she'd get any further with her questions, so she left him in peace. "I'll see you around, Anton."
Just in case, she still stopped by Jessica's. It turned out Anton had come by Palm Paradise looking for his sweatshirt during his lunch break, so it was unlikely he would have been on site in the late afternoon, the time the menacing text was sent.
Now she had it narrowed down to two. It was time to call Josh and Zach and share her theory.
Chapter 19
“Going up?" Bob asked, holding open the elevator door, as Connie made her way back across the lobby.
"Thanks." She picked up her pace and joined him.
He pressed the button for the tenth floor, where Roger's condo was located, and she pressed the one for the seventh.
"Still in Sapphire Beach?" he asked. "I thought you would be on your way home by now."
"Almost. I'm just tying up some loose ends. I'll be heading back to Boston in a couple of days." She didn't want to share her news of relocating with anyone, since she hadn't even told her family and friends yet.
They rode up the first few floors without speaking until Connie broke the awkward silence. At least it felt awkward to Connie. "I haven't had a chance yet to say how sorry I am for the loss of Paula. I'm sure she was a friend of yours, as well." It wasn't entirely true, since she had seen him at the memorial service, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.
Bob's face twisted into a scowl.
"At least we know she didn't kill Hank." Connie immediately wished she could take back her words. They sounded so cold.
"It would seem that way. But who knows, maybe there were two separate killers."
Connie had considered that angle, but it seemed unlikely given that the two victims had once been married.
“Well, I’m sure Hank had his share of enemies as a result of his work,” she said, studying Bob for a reaction. Since he had lost his investment in the Royal Palm project, she was trying to detect if he still harbored any negative feelings.
Bob let out a sarcastic chuckle. "It's ironic the way Hank was killed. I mean, after all, he was no angel."
Connie narrowed her eyes. That was an odd thing to say.
"So I heard," was
the only response she could think of. She was glad that they had arrived at the seventh floor. The conversation felt strange, and she just wanted it to end.
As she exited the elevator and made her way down the hall, she wondered what Bob's bizarre comment could have meant. She shook her head and pulled out her phone to see if she had any messages. Elyse hadn't responded to her text about seeing the shop yet. She must be with a client. Connie threw her phone back into her pocket and fished out the house key. Just as she opened the door, it dawned on her. At first, the realization came to her slowly, then, the whole thing fell into place.
When Bob said that it was ironic how Hank was killed “because he was no angel,” he was referencing the angel statuette that the killer used to knock Hank out before throwing him over the balcony. But it wasn't public knowledge that Hank had been knocked out with an angel statuette. The police had only released that he was hit with a blunt object. The only way Bob could have that information was if he were the killer.
Just as this realization registered, a hand pushed her abruptly from behind, nearly knocking her wind out. She stumbled through the door and into the foyer. She didn't have to look behind her to know it was Bob. Within seconds, a sharp pain shot through her head. The last thing she heard before everything went dark was the ping of her cell phone.
When she came to, she felt the cool marble of the foyer floor against her face. She slowly opened her eyes. The light caused her head to throb even harder and the room to spin. Was Bob planning to push her over the balcony like he did Hank? She figured she hadn't been unconscious for very long, because Bob was punching something into her cell phone a few feet away.
She thought of closing her eyes and pretending she was still unconscious, but it was too late. He saw that her eyes were open and darted quickly over to where she lay, tightly gripping a knife. She immediately recognized it as one of Concetta's cooking knives. It didn't much matter that he had a weapon. Even if he had been unarmed, she barely had the strength to lift her head, never mind put up a fight. Her throat was dry, and she felt a warm, sticky moisture, on the back of her head, which she guessed was blood.
Sapphire Beach Cozy Mystery Collection Page 10
