Miz Scarlet and the Acrimonious Attorney

by Sara M. Barton

  “When was that incident, Paul?”

  “The weekend before Philip was murdered.”

  “I guess it’s possible, Scarlet.” He scratched his forehead, a sure sign that he was weighing the potential.

  “Maybe the reason why the killer couldn’t find the evidence in the office was because Philip carried it with him. Is that why he followed Philip to the parking garage? Think about it, honey. How big is an SD card...or a USB flash drive? You could store a lot of information on one of those!”

  The lawyer looked stricken. “If the killer got his hands on it, it’s probably been destroyed.”

  Was it really lost? Grimshaw didn’t strike me as a careless man. “No, Philip was too smart for that. I bet he made copies of the information. That’s what would I do if I was trying to bring down a cunning pair of blackmailers.”

  “And you’d hide it on someone else’s computer,” said Kenny, putting himself in Grimshaw’s shoes. “You’d make sure your bad guys wouldn’t inadvertently stumble across the evidence you were gathering on them, even if they got into your office or home.”

  “Given that Margie married Philip, that was a very strong possibility, wasn’t it?” I stood there like Captain Obvious, waiting for the men to notice my superhero cape. Alas, it was not to be.

  “Do you have any idea how many computers we have here at Martin, Dubinsky, and Moore?” asked the senior partner, dismayed by the logistics of finding a needle in a haystack. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed hard. We watched as Paul talked himself out of a complete panic by way of reason. That was surely a good sign. “It’s going to take a while to go through each of them. I’ll ask the tech department to get on that on Monday. If we find it, we can take it to the FBI ourselves.”

  The idea of anyone else hunting for those files on the law firm’s computers clearly worried Kenny. “Wait a minute. Let’s not go off half-cocked. We want to be sure our strategy is solid, so that we don’t take a misstep.”

  “Actually, Paul, I don’t think it’s going to be hard to find those files. Philip had an assistant and a paralegal at his beck and call, didn’t he? If their computers were on the same office network as his, he might have saved the backup copy on one of their computers.”

  “Oh, I see!” Relief washed over the frazzled man. “Yes, we have office networks. They go according to type of law practice.”

  “Good,” Kenny nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “The trick would be to figure out what name he would have given the file,” I decided. “That won’t be easy. But it’s interesting that he thought he had developed enough evidence to arrest Greg Monaco, isn’t it?”

  “To arrest Greg?” Paul looked at me like I had two heads.

  “Who are we talking about then? It can’t be Jack Monaco, Greg’s son.”

  “Heavens, no. I assumed it was Margie’s boyfriend, Ed Hawley. He’s the first mate on the Siren of the Seas crew.”

  “But the killer had a brown eye and a green eye.”

  “Again, Scarlet, I must point out to you that you didn’t actually witness the murder,” that six-foot-two stickler for the truth reminded me. “The man you saw might be involved in the blackmail scheme, but that doesn’t make him the killer.”

  “Drat!”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  “I didn’t say he was innocent, love. I merely said he may not be the killer.”

  “Hawley must be the guy we saw in the lobby of Margie’s condo building, the one who looks like Philip, Kenny.” I could barely contain my excitement as my brain began to rearrange the clues in a totally different order. “Could Ed have been the real fisherman who caught all those prizewinning billfish in the tournaments? Did Philip to pretend to reel them in on the videos that the team turned in to tournament officials? All they would have to do is edit the videos on the boat. With Johnny Zee under their control, it would be easy to fake everything.”

  “That would mean Monaco and his crew were neck-deep in the cheating,” Kenny decided. “They couldn’t afford to get caught.”

  “No, they couldn’t,” I agreed wholeheartedly. “They’d have been scrod.”

  When Kenny’s eyes lit on me, there was no mistaking his excitement. He was onto something. “Yes, of course they would. They would have been fried to a golden brown and served with coleslaw, fries, and a lemon wedge. Paul, did you ever get the sense that Monaco was involved in setting you up?”

  “Well, I can’t say that I did,” he replied, “although I must admit it would make sense if he was.”

  “There’s one thing I don’t yet understand. Do you know why did Philip agreed to marry Margie?” Kenny looked to Paul for the answer.

  “I...I...I’m not really sure. He just came back one weekend and announced he had married her. I thought something had happened, that maybe he was compromised in some way, or....”

  “Or?” Curious, I wanted him to finish his sentence.

  “Or he had completely and utterly lost his mind.” As Paul admitted his concerns about his junior partner, Kenny eyed him carefully.

  “Does Margie have anything to do with the fishing tournaments?”

  “Margie was on Johnny Zee’s crew.”

  “She worked on Siren of the Seas?” The professional investigator was as shocked by that bombshell as I was.

  “She was on board for the tournaments, yes. That’s where I first met her.”

  “But I didn’t find any mention of her in my searches on Google, Kenny. She wasn’t listed as a participant anywhere.”

  Paul had a simple explanation. “She wasn’t officially part of the crew. Johnny had her working in the galley, kind of like a glorified steward. That’s why Sybil was with her when I...when I had that, er...trouble.”

  “What are the legal ramifications of Philip’s marriage?” There was something about the way Kenny spoke those words that made me think I was missing an important clue.

  “Ah...um,” Paul seemed confused. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

  “How would Philip’s marriage have affected a lawsuit brought against the Siren of the Seas team for cheating in the tournament?”

  “The polygraph test for the tournament!” I crowed. “They must have forced him to marry her because....”

  “A husband can’t be forced to testify against his wife in a criminal case. Good God, this evil plot has more twists and turns than a bloody soap opera!” Paul was appalled.

  “They couldn’t collect all that tournament money without the polygraph, and if they were worried about Philip passing it, they might have pressured him to lie. But why coerce him into marrying Margie?”

  “He probably needed them to believe they were running the show, so he could watch them in action.” Kenny replied. He glanced over at the wall clock and gave me a heads-up. If we didn’t leave now, we’d miss that flight back to Miami.

  I sighed as I stood up, thinking that it had been such a travesty of justice that the one man who had tried to bring down the blackmailers had lost his life as a result. “Now I feel bad about the hard time I gave him after our meeting. He must have been rushing off to meet his law enforcement buddy when he was murdered. If only I hadn’t argued with him, maybe the killer might have missed him in that parking garage.”

  “No, Scarlet, you can’t think that way,” Paul assured me. “Philip wasn’t the kind of man who would want you to feel guilty. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Maybe,” I shrugged. “But I am sorry he’s dead.”

  “We all are.” The attorney took my hand in both of his and gave me a sad smile. “He was a good man.”

  “Well,” Kenny took me by the arm, “we’ve got to run. But if you don’t mind, Paul, I’d like to arrange for you to have some protection. Is that okay with you?”

  “Do you really think it’s necessary?”

  “I do.”

  “Then by all means, do it.”

  “I’ll call you with the details when the arrangements are in
place. In the meantime, take my card,” he insisted, pulling one out of his wallet. He jotted something down on the back. “If you feel you’re in any kind of danger, call Max. He’s a former homicide investigator for the state, so he has good contacts throughout the law enforcement community. He’ll get right on it. That goes for your friends too.”

  “Thank you.” Paul Dubinsky ushered us to the door. “Good luck in Florida. Please come back alive.”

  “We will,” Kenny promised.

  We hurried down the hallway and out of the law offices. While I reached for the elevator button, Kenny reached for his cell phone, and then he dug through his right hip pocket. He held out his hand to me.

  “Do you mind driving, Scarlet? We’ve got half an hour to get to the airport in time for the security check-in.” I took the keys he offered me as he punched a button. “I’m calling a buddy of mine who works for the TSA. If we’re lucky, he can help us catch that flight.”

  “Do we need help?”

  “We’ve got no luggage and we’re in a rush. You can bet your sweet bippy we need help.”

  When the metal doors slid open, we stepped into the express car and rode it down to the lobby. Passing through the elegant three-story atrium at a trot, we pushed our way through the revolving door at north exit and stepped onto the sidewalk. I was grateful that we’d been lucky enough to find a parking spot right outside the office building.

  I popped the locks on Kenny’s SUV and opened the driver’s side door, sliding in behind the wheel. I adjusted the seat, repositioned the side mirrors, and turned on the engine. “Okay, here we go.”

  “Let’s book it, babe. Just don’t get a ticket.”

  “Can I use the Batmobile’s after-burner once we’re on I-91?”

  “Be my guest, Robin.”

  It took less than thirteen minutes for me to get us to the long-term parking lot, where we ditched the SUV in a spot right by the office door, and hopped onto the shuttle bus. Seven minutes later, the driver deposited us at the entrance to the terminal.

  Kenny was relieved that his buddy was on duty at the airport. Zak Altman met us at the escalator and escorted us to the screening area, stood by while we were scanned, and then walked with us to our gate, just as our flight was called.

  “I appreciate this. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Kenny told him.

  “It was good to see you, friend. Let me know how the case goes.”

  “I will do that.”

  When the jet rolled down the runway and I heard the engines roar, I breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, Captain Peacock, we did it. We’re heading back to paradise, as promised.”

  “It’s not a moment too soon,” he smiled, brushing my hand with his lips. “That was one crazy afternoon, Miz Scarlet. I can’t ever remember a case taking such a wild trajectory.”

  “It’s definitely one for the record books,” I smiled. “But we’re not out of the woods yet, are we?”

  “Not by a long shot. But at least we know better what we’re up against.”

  “I can’t believe those poor people were duped like that. It’s a wonder none of them tried to commit suicide.”

  “Ah, I wouldn’t assume that if I were you, love.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “Did you see Paul’s face when he talked about his friend, Alice? I think she must have called him when she wanted to top herself.”

  “Oh,” I nodded, “you might be right about that.”

  “You’ll notice that he didn’t tell us what her secret was.”

  “That’s right. He didn’t.”

  “He’s very protective of her. I think he has feelings that go beyond being friends.”

  “He mentioned that she was blackmailed after he was. Maybe he felt responsible for that. Could Margie and the boyfriend have picked her because they knew it would make Paul miserable?”

  “That sounds like their style, doesn’t it?”

  “Unfortunately, it does.”

  “Well, it’s just a matter of time before we wrap all of this up. I’m just not sure that we’ll get it done on this trip. We might have to come back a time or two. Would you mind?”

  “Mind?” My eyes felt heavy, so I closed them. My aching backside wanted to to plant itself in the middle of a warm Jacuzzi and be massaged by a thousand gentle water jets. “No, I don’t mind.”

  “Good,” I heard him whisper to me as I began to float off to dream land. “It’s a date.”

  Twenty minutes before we landed in Charlotte for an hour-long layover, I awakened, feeling like an eighty-year-old. My shoulder hurt. My backside felt like I had been used as a pin for a human bowling game. Glancing over at the seat beside me, I saw that Kenny had nodded off. He looked so peaceful.

  “Well, at least one of us can sleep.”

  When the flight attendant came around, reminding us to put our tray tables up as we neared the airport, I reached over and folded his, and then I did my own.

  “Are we landing?” he asked groggily.

  “Yes. It won’t be long now.”

  He closed his eyes again, in no rush to rejoin the world. “Do you know what I was thinking?”

  “No, love. That would make me psychic.”

  “I’d like to speak with Alice tomorrow, if Paul can arrange it.”

  “What do you expect her to tell you?”

  “I suspect she was one of the supposed witnesses to that accident of Johnny Zee’s. If it was a con and she has a conscience, she’s probably been wracked with guilt. I’d like to give her the chance to come clean, once and for all.”

  “Why do you think she went along with it?” I pulled out my lip gloss and touched up my mouth.

  “She probably has a secret that they threatened to reveal.”

  “How bad could it be?”

  “Considering what they did to Paul and to Johnny Zee, I’d guess it’s pretty awful. I’d like to do a conference call with Paul up in Hartford. I think she’ll be more forthcoming after he tells her about his own mess.”

  “I think we should start the day by verifying that Sybil is over the age of consent, Kenny. That would go a long way towards helping Paul convince Alice this was one big fraud.”

  “Do you think the kid has a driver’s license?”

  “If she’s a normal teenager, she does. Why?”

  “Kids can get their learner’s permits at age fifteen in Florida. She’d have to cough up her birth certificate to obtain one.”

  “You are a clever one, honey.” I leaned over and kissed him. “Do you think you can find out?”

  “I’m already on it. Are you hungry? Once we land, we can grab some grub before the American Eagle flight departs for Miami.”

  By the time we disembarked, we had less than an hour until our connecting flight left. Burger King was one of the few restaurants that were still open at this time of night. While I waited in line for our food, Kenny found a table and sat down to check his messages and make arrangements for us to stay over in Miami.

  “Guess what, Miz Scarlet.”

  “The Kardashians replicated again?”

  “No,” he laughed. “That’s a scary thought, by the way. You thought that Sybil looked like she was nineteen or twenty?”

  “Yes. Why? Did I get it right?”

  “No, you got it completely wrong. Sybil is only fifteen years old.”

  “Oh dear God,” I sighed, sinking into the seat across from him. “That’s terrible.”

  “No, it’s good.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “I managed to get a photo of little Sybil in her field hockey uniform. Take a gander.”

  He slid his cell phone across the table. Gazing down, I saw a dark-haired teenager who was definitely about fifteen, holding a stick and offering the photographer a goofy little grin. “Poor Paul. He’s going to be devastated that she’s only....Hey, wait a minute. This is Sybil?”

  There it was, that Cheshire cat grin of his. “Yes, it is.”

  �
�Then who was the blonde in the photo?”

  “That was Misty, Margie’s older daughter.”

  “Older, as in she’s past the age of consent?”

  “She’s a sophomore at Johnson and Wales, studying fashion merchandising and retailing at the North Miami campus.”

  “Do tell!” I crowed. “That means our little Margie got Paul to pay for both her daughters’ educations?”

  “It looks like it.”

  “Wow. I just hope Margie doesn’t try to convince the jurors that she only did what she did because she was a good mother bear, looking out for her cubs.”

  “We’re going to need a hotel room for tonight when we get to Miami. Would you mind booking it, love?”

  “Are we headed to Surfside in the morning?”

  “We are.”

  “Do we also want a rental car?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He worked while he ate, calling Paul to give him an update and to ask him to make arrangements with Alice. I got busy searching for a hotel near the airport that could accommodate us after midnight. After a few calls, I managed to reserve a room at the Best Western. Once that was taken care of, I called two car rental agencies before I found a mid-size sedan available.

  “We’ve got a Toyota Camry,” I told Kenny. “I went for something that has a respectable engine, just in case we have to flee. I thought it was a better choice than any of the compacts I was offered.”

  “That’s smart thinking, babe.” Kenny drained the last of his coffee and set the cardboard cup down on the table. “I wouldn’t want to try to outrun the killer in a Fred Flintstone car. Yabba-dabba-do! Shall we go?”

  We picked up toothbrushes and other sundries at a small stand on our way to the departure lounge.

  “Another few hours and we’ll be able to get some sleep.” Kenny slipped his arm around my shoulder and gently gave me a squeeze. “How are you holding up?”

  “I won’t lie to you. I’m fading.”

  “Hang in there. It won’t be long now. We can sleep in tomorrow morning.”

  “That will be nice,” I decided, squeezing his hand. “Do you think Margie and Ed Hawley missed us in Islamorada tonight?”