Miz Scarlet and the Acrimonious Attorney

by Sara M. Barton

  “But why, if I don’t know him, is he going to all this trouble?”

  “That’s the question of the day. It looks like he’s pushing the envelope because he wants you out of the picture, and the most likely explanation is that you’re some kind of threat to him.”

  “But how does he know that? It’s almost like he’s being tipped off.” I saw the look that the three of them exchanged. It all made sense, didn’t it? Somewhere was a leak in the case. “Could Grimshaw’s nephew, Jason, have an accomplice down here?”

  “Or maybe Jason is the accomplice, and that’s how he came to have Grimshaw’s forty grand,” Kenny suggested.

  “At any rate, I think we can all agree that Ms. Wilson is in danger. We’ll make a point of keeping a presence in the area tonight.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you out.” Kenny told them.

  While he was gone, I looked up heterochromia again, trying to get a deeper understanding of it. Usually a harmless condition, there were a number of celebrities with different color eyes.

  “Whoa, Robert Downey, Jr. has it,” I read aloud. “So does Mila Kunis, Benedict Cumberbatch, Kate Bosworth, Henry Cavill, Virginia Madsen, Joe Pesci, and Dan Ackroyd. Even David Bowie had it. Go figure.” Kiefer Sutherland was in the heterochromia club. So was Jane Seymour.

  But what did it all mean? Could I figure out a way to identify the killer by understanding what caused him to have two different eye colors?

  The big question for me was whether it was, in the killer’s case, a genetic disease or just a fluke. If this ran in the Monaco family, it had to be genetic. Were there other recognizable signs to point to the killer?

  Waardenburg Syndrome was divided into four types. A couple of those resulted in mental retardation and other debilitating physical anomalies that I didn’t think fit. But there were a few conditions that were fairly benign and might. Hearing loss was one. Hair that turned white at a young age or resulted in white patches was another. Some people with the syndrome lacked pigmentation in their skin. And then there was a fourth inherited condition, malformations in fingers and toes.

  Kenny smiled, coming through the door. “You’re already back to work?”

  “Listen to this, sweetheart.” I shared the research, watching his interest grow. “So, what we’re looking for is a guy with two different eye colors, whose hair might be prematurely white, who might be hearing-impaired, and who might have crooked pinkies.”

  “And if this is genetic, he probably has relatives with the same issues,” he suggested.

  “Good point. If we find the family, we can probably find the killer, Kenny.”

  “Interesting theory,” he nodded. “How do you plan to work that one out, Miz Scarlet?”

  “We know that Jack Monaco has two different iris colors. So does Greg Monaco. I’ve been trying to figure out the age of the killer. I’m fairly certain, based on the way he moved and his physical prowess, that he’s in his mid-to-late thirties.”

  “We should find out if Greg Monaco has a younger brother.” He poured me a glass of wine. I took a long sip, letting it roll over my tongue.

  “Or Jack Monaco has an older brother. Hmm....” I leaned back and closed my eyes.

  “We can rest easy tonight. I put sensors on the doors and windows, so we’ll know if our friend shows up.”

  “You think of everything, Captain Peacock.”

  “I try,” he smiled, placing the wireless alarm tower on the dresser. “I think we should take a drive up to Miami tomorrow, to meet the elusive widow of C. Philip Grimshaw.”

  “That sounds interesting.”

  “You’re picturing a gold-digger?”

  “If money is her motive for marrying, she’d have to have some allure, wouldn’t she?”

  “What if it was a marriage of convenience for both of them?”

  “In that case, I guess looks don’t really matter. She could have a fanny the size of Cincinnati and a face that could stop a Mac truck.”

  “How are your bruises?”

  “Painful. But I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “Let’s hope so.” He pulled me close and kissed me. “For what was supposed to be a romantic trip, this is turning out to be a bust, Miz Scarlet.”

  “You expected romance?”

  “I did indeed.”

  “How sweet. Maybe if you give me a day or two, I’ll be feeling better.”

  “All I know is you’d better be in one piece when you get back to the Four Acorns Inn or your mother will never let me hear the end of it.”

  “True.” I opened my mouth and yawned. “You’ll be on her doodie roster. Good luck with that.”

  “Ah, not a list I want to be on.”

  When the sun crept through the narrow slits of the plantation shutters, I rolled over in bed and groaned. My back side ached, thanks to the drubbing I took the night before in the restaurant parking lot. When I put my feet on the floor and stood up, every muscle seemed to protest.

  “Oh, honey!” Kenny came out of the bathroom, his beard lathered up with shaving cream and a razor in hand. There was no mistaking the pity etched on his face.

  “Do I look that bad?” I moaned. He led me into the bathroom and positioned me so I could see my reflection in both of the mirrors. My back was a Jackson Pollock tableau of red, purple, and deep blue splotches. My shoulder was deep blue. I was able to lift my arm, but the effort was painful. “At least I didn’t tear my rotator cuff.”

  “You really got the crap kicked out of you last night.”

  “That I did. But I didn’t smack my head on the ground. A concussion would have been extremely unfortunate.”

  “I’m grateful for that. Still, you’ll have to take it easy for a while.”

  “As long as I don’t have to run, I’ll muddle through this.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Half an hour later, we went to breakfast in a little cafe overlooking the water. The waitress brought us coffee and juice while we waited for our omelets.

  “Do you think you’ll survive the drive to Miami, Scar?”

  “I will just have to, Kenny. There’s no way I want to miss meeting Grimacing Grimshaw’s missus.”

  “As long as you’re sure you can handle it. Let me know if the pain gets to be too much.”

  “Are you kidding? Even if I was on my death bed, I’d want to go.”

  “You do have a unique fascination with the late lawyer. Why is that?”

  I glanced out at a kayaker paddling by the restaurant and thought about it. “There was just something about Grimshaw that was off. I felt like he was conning me and everyone else.”

  “Conning you how?”

  “I’m not sure I can explain it. At our meeting, he seemed to go through the motions of giving me legal advice, but his mind was somewhere else. Why agree to see me if you’re not interested in taking my case?”

  “Do you think he needed the money and that’s why he agreed to sit down with you?” Kenny took a long sip of his coffee, watching me.

  “That’s just it. If he needed money, he would have been better off filing motions, wouldn’t he?”

  “I thought at the time that he blew you off, but that’s just me, honey.”

  “But it’s not just you.” I held my coffee mug out as the waitress came along with the pot. “He just didn’t act like any lawyer I’ve ever known. I think that’s what made me so mad.”

  “He was a puzzling man.” He tucked the last piece of toast into his mouth before he swiped his lips with his napkin. “Unfortunately, he took the answers to the grave with him.”

  Kenny was right. That reality only seemed to deepen my funk.

  “Honey, do remember when we sat down with Max and Larry in Cheswick? There was talk that Grimshaw made several trips to the Dominican Republic.”

  “I remember. Why do you bring that up now?”

  “If Grimacing Grimshaw did stash the cash in the Dominican Republic, he could have made so many trips because he pl
anned to live there.”

  “Who’s to say? Without any physical evidence, we’re just speculating, Scarlet.”

  “Did he have an accomplice, someone who helped him hide the money?”

  “You think he wasn’t working alone?” Kenny pondered that for a few moments. “We haven’t found any indication that anyone else is involved in what he was doing down in Florida or in the Dominican Republic.”

  I noticed that his voice rose slightly on that last comment. Did he harbor some doubt? I probed a little further. “But?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “And if he did, it could mean that his partner in crime double-crossed him.”

  “Maybe,” he conceded.

  We drove across the Overseas Highway in silence, heading north to Miami, both of us lost in thought. I just couldn’t wrap my head around those trips to the Caribbean. Was Grimshaw setting up a new life, one that would allow him to disappear, or was something else going on? And why did he pay for those trips with a bank account that he opened in the name of his stepdaughter? That was something I thought was really odd.

  “Why not put the money in a bank in Florida? And why did he use Sybil’s name? It wasn’t a special savings account for college. Nor was he her legal guardian. Margarita would have been in charge of it until her daughter came of age, so why not just put Margarita’s name on it?”

  “Maybe she has an ex-husband that Grimshaw was trying to bypass.”

  “I don’t buy it. It just doesn’t fit.” I sighed, still frustrated. “You know what would be really interesting, Kenny?”

  “Tell me, love.”

  “What if Grimshaw didn’t set up that bank account in Sybil’s name? You said he was almost bankrupt. What if his new wife was in on the scam and Grimshaw realized she was robbing him blind? That might explain why he kept going down there again and again, trying to find his missing money.”

  “But what would draw him to the Dominican Republic?” he asked.

  “Maybe he was following leads. Maybe he found out that she was going down there, and he figured that’s where the money had to be.”

  “You think he was following her?” He pulled out to pass a car, accelerating quickly. Once he was past the vehicle, he deftly moved back into the lane.

  “Or he was having her followed. Don’t forget he was an attorney. Don’t law firms employ private investigators to gather information for their cases, Kenny?”

  “Are you suggesting that someone at Martin, Dubinsky, and Moore knew what was going on?”

  “You really only spoke to Neville Martin, didn’t you?”

  “That’s because I assumed that, as one of the senior partners, he knew what was going on, Scarlet.”

  “Hear me out, Kenny. If we’ve been wrong about the ‘why’ of this case, maybe we’ve also been wrong about the ‘who’. Is it possible that Dubinsky made Grimshaw a junior partner, not because he was Dubinsky’s blackmailer, but because he saved the senior partner when he was being blackmailed?”

  There was a long silence. Kenny drove on for at least another mile. He took in a deep breath and held it, and then he slowly let it out.

  “For the life of me, I don’t know how the hell you do it, Miz Scarlet, but you do do it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You just turned Grimshaw from a villain to a hero and the pieces all fit.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “You lost me, Kenny.”

  “Neville Martin told me that Grimshaw had a file in his office that looked like he was involved in extortion. But what if that file was actually evidence that he had gathered about someone else’s extortion?”

  “You think Dubinsky was the victim.”

  “Yes. Maybe Dubinsky hired Grimshaw to get his fanny out of hot water and that’s what got Grimshaw murdered.” He chewed on his lower lip absentmindedly.

  “If that’s the twist in this case, could Margarita Grimshaw be involved in the blackmail? If only there was a way that we could find out before we meet her....”

  “I know the perfect way, Scarlet. We call Dubinsky.”

  “Do you think he’ll tell you the truth?”

  “I think that if Grimshaw was helping him and Dubinsky realizes we figured that out, he might accept our help. We’ll just have to tread lightly.”

  When we got to Key Largo, Kenny found a coffee shop and parked the car. “Honey, would you mind going in and getting us some coffee?”

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes. Could you?”

  “You’re trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?”

  “Please?”

  Those eyes watched me hopefully. I could tell he wasn’t trying to keep me out of the loop as much as he was trying to give Paul Dubinsky the chance to confide in him. How could I stand in his way?

  “The usual cream and sugar?” I sighed heavily and put my hand on the door handle.

  “Yes, please.”

  “I will be back,” I told him glumly, and as I said it, I wasn’t sure if that was a promise or a threat. Maybe it was a delayed reaction to the trauma I had endured last night. Or maybe I was putting too much pressure on myself to take our relationship to the next level. Given the pressure to seal the deal with a ring and a promise, it was no surprise that I was freaking out, was it? As I slid through my forties, I was of two minds when it came to marriage. I wanted it, but I also wanted to be me. I liked being an innkeeper. Would I have to leave the Four Acorns Inn in order to be Kenny’s wife? And what would happen to my mother if I did? I had been her caregiver since she had that terrible car accident. Sure, we could hire people to give her a hand. But she was my mother and I happened to like her as a person.

  There were a few customers seated at small tables in the coffee shop. I sauntered passed them on my way to the ladies room. Inside the tiny space, I washed my hands, even though I knew they were clean. Staring into the mirror, I studied my reflection closely. There were no obvious marks on my face, but the bags under my eyes gave away my secret. I hadn’t slept well.

  “C’est la vie,” I sighed, in my feeble effort to make peace with my fall the night before. “It could have been a lot worse. I could have lost a few teeth.”

  I knew I should be grateful that I survived it, and I was, but I was also angry...and scared. Ever since I found Grimacing Grimshaw’s body in that parking garage, my life had been turned upside down. Who was that man and what did he intend to do to me? That’s the million dollar question, Miz Scarlet.

  Returning to the dining room, I got in line behind a man in a tee shirt and overalls. He chatted with the waitress while she prepared his order.

  “There you go, hon. You have a good day now.”

  Collecting his change, he slipped some bills into the tip jar and left with a Thermos of coffee and a paper bag of crullers.

  “Thanks, Fern. See you tomorrow.”

  “Can I help you?” asked the older woman behind the counter, giving me her full attention.

  “A couple of coffees, please.”

  “Coming right up.” She grabbed a pair of cardboard cups. “Cream and sugar in each?”

  “Could you do cream and two sugars in one, cream and Splenda in the other, please?”

  “You look like you could use a little caffeine, if you don’t mind me saying so, dearie.” She gave me a friendly smile as she set the cups down on the counter. I handed over the dollar bills and she made change. “Rough night?”

  “You might say that. I took a bad tumble last night. Someone tried to kidnap me from a restaurant down near Islamorada.”

  I’m not sure why I confided in her. I don’t normally blurt out my life story. Maybe I just wanted to tell someone, and it wasn’t the kind of news the Googins girls would welcome.

  “Oh, that was you? I heard all about it on the early news. You poor thing, you must have been terrified.”

  “I was,” I nodded, unexpectedly coming to grips with a swirl of powerful emotions. The compassion of a stranger nearly knocked me over. />
  “Was it an ex-husband...an ex-boyfriend?”

  “Believe it or not, I didn’t see the man. I have no idea who did that to me.”

  “Good lord! The police said he got away. I hope you’re not running around here on your own. I wouldn’t want the creep to have another chance to hurt you.”

  “No, I’m with....” I hesitated. I couldn’t call Kenny my fiancé, could I? What was the right term to use? “...My sweetheart.”

  “Well, I hope he looks out for you. You tell him I said that he should make sure nobody tries any more funny business.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, tossing a dollar bill into the tip jar.

  “Sure. You take care, honey. Don’t let anybody mess with you.”

  On the walk through the parking lot, I tried to sort myself out. I might have told Kenny I was okay, but I found myself wondering if that was really true.

  It’s not that this terrible thing happened to me that I find so troublesome. It’s that I don’t understand why the killer keeps coming after me, especially if I can’t identify him. How does he know so much about me? Is he following me around?

  When I got back, Kenny was still talking on the phone. He waved me into the car. I quietly opened the passenger door and slid in beside him.

  “So, once they started blackmailing you, you hired Grimshaw to make it stop? I see. And his job was to recover the money you lost, by taking your place as the pigeon? That’s why he married Margarita?”

  I put his coffee cup into the holder on the console and then lifted the lid of my own, taking a small sip. Kenny held up a thumb, to let me know he was making headway.

  “Were you aware of his trips down to the Dominican Republic?” He paused, listening to Paul Dubinsky’s explanation before he posed another question. “Why did he go there?”

  I could hear the tiny voice coming out of the speaker, and even though I couldn’t make out the words, I got the gist of the conversation. Paul Dubinsky was privy to Grimshaw’s activities. So why hadn’t he shared any of this with the Hartford cops? I could think of only one logical explanation. He was still at risk for blackmail. It made me wonder what made him vulnerable. Had he committed a crime of some kind?