by Rayna Morgan
Tom walked over to the bartender. "Where's the cocktail waitress who was on shift here earlier, the tall short-haired blonde?"
"You mean Pat?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know. She and the boss walked out the back entrance a while ago. Didn't say where they were going. He didn't look any too happy; just told me to clock her out."
Tom pulled out his badge. "I need to know where they went."
The bartender looked scared. "Is something wrong?"
"I just want to know where they are. Can you get hold of him?"
"I can try."
The bartender punched in a number on his cell phone, listened several minutes, then shook his head. "No answer."
"I need his address."
"The boss doesn't give out personal information. I have no idea where he lives."
"What about transportation out of town? Does he have a boat or a private plane?"
"As a matter of fact, he does have a plane. He brags about it a lot. A Gulfstream; cost megabucks."
"Where does he keep it?"
"The private airfield north of town about twenty miles."
Tom handed the bartender his card. "If he calls in, don't tell him we were here. Ask him what time he'll be back. Then call me and let me know what he says."
"Sure thing."
Tom and Jones headed for the door. Tom turned back. "Who else does he have with him?"
"As far as I know, just Pat and his bodyguards."
While Jones drove to the freeway, Tom put out an APB alerting any patrol cars within the vicinity of the airstrip.
Jones glanced over at his boss. Tom's jaw clenched, blood vessels on his forehead stood out, his hands tightened into fists. "Sorry, Boss."
"There's nothing you could have done. Your man was there. We gave her the best coverage we could. She knows how to handle herself. She'll be okay. If she's not, Mickey's going to be the sorriest guy in the county."
• • •
When they got to the airstrip, Jones drove right onto the tarmac toward a jet parked in the middle of the runway. A ramp extended to the open passenger door. Before Jones turned off the car engine, Tom jumped out, his weapon drawn. The detectives advanced cautiously toward the plane with their guns pointed at the figure emerging from the cabin.
"What took you guys so long?" Pat asked, leaning against the door frame.
"Geez, Pat, are you okay?" Tom demanded, relief clearly visible across his face. Regaining his self-command, he repeated, "What's your status, Detective?"
"I'm good, Lieutenant. Can't say the same for the two guys up front." Pat pointed over her shoulder. Tom and Jones raced into the cockpit where they found Mickey's bodyguards sitting in the pilots’ seats, bound and gagged.
"Put your gun away, Jones," Tom ordered. "Looks like Fisher has this situation under control." Turning to Pat, he asked, "Where's Mickey?"
"He took off while the bodyguards were firing up the plane. From the way they were talking, one of the bodyguards has a pilot's license. He instructed them to get the plane fueled and to file a flight plan. Said he'd be back shortly. I haven't seen him since."
"If he gets wind of what's been going down, he won't be back to catch his flight. But you're safe; that's what matters." He turned to Jones, giving instructions. "Secure the prisoners. When backup arrives, search the plane, and see if you can track down the flight plan. I'd like to know where this guy was planning to go. We'll meet you back at the precinct."
He turned to Pat, jerking his head toward the car. "You can tell me all about your little adventure on our way to the Card Club."
• • •
With Tom driving, Pat described how she overcame her captors when Mickey left the plane. "I told them I had to pee. Then I started yelling the door to the restroom was stuck; I couldn't get out. When one of the goons came, I jerked open the door and pushed it into his head as hard as I could. Knocked him out cold. The other one was in the cockpit fiddling with the instruments. I grabbed one of the parachutes and cold-cocked him with it."
"Tell me what Mickey said before he snatched you."
"I can do better than that. I can play it for you. When I searched Mickey's office, I planted a recording device in the lamp on his desk. The entire conversation's on tape."
Tom wasn't surprised at what they found when they pulled into the parking lot at the Card Club. There were no cars in the lot, no lights on in the Club. A padlock hung from the door.
"Get the pliers from the trunk," Tom said, tossing Pat the keys. "Let's get that recorder."
• • •
There was nothing left in Mickey's office except the furniture. The laptop was gone as were the files from the cabinet. It would have taken Mickey only a matter of minutes to clean out what he needed.
They listened without comment as Pat played and replayed the tape several times.
Tom finally voiced his thoughts. "Mickey knew his gig here was up. The question is, if he only came back to clear out his office and lock up the Club, why hasn't our APB picked him up between here and the airstrip? Did the Kingpin get hold of him before he could get back to the plane?"
"With Hector dead and Mickey gone, are we back to square one on learning the identity of the Kingpin?"
"It looks that way."
"There's the other question, too, Lieutenant."
"Yeah, I know. The one which worries me the most. The mole Mickey said the Kingpin has planted at the precinct. We know it isn't you. So who is it?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lea drove to her sister's home in response to an urgent voice mail regarding proof of the identity of Barrett's murderer. When she arrived, Maddy ushered her to the kitchen table, sitting her in front of a computer. "This is Barrett's personal computer alright. I went through it with a fine-tooth comb yesterday. I won't waste your time with the racy stuff, but there are some incriminating emails you'll want to take a look at while I fix coffee. I flagged them."
Lea spent several minutes perusing the messages Maddy had highlighted. From the angry tone of emails to his wife, it was obvious Julia had continued to negotiate for the sale of the Theatre behind her husband's back and he had discovered her duplicity.
Maddy couldn't contain her excitement as she set two mugs on the table. "He made his position quite clear; he had no interest whatsoever in selling. But Julia was determined. She wanted to get out of theatre life. As you can see, she even pleads with him at one point, reminding him of their dreams to visit historic theatres in Europe and live a year in Paris. He turned a deaf ear to all her pleas and warned her about taking further action without his knowledge."
"That's not proof of anything," Lea objected.
"Hear me out. You told me yourself she hadn't loved the man for years. She probably planned to divorce him once they sold the Theatre and travel by herself. By refusing to sell, he signed his own death warrant. Her only choice was to kill him."
"I'm listening," Lea said, tiny lines creasing her forehead.
"All three partners had to consent to the sale. By killing Barrett, she got rid of the only partner unwilling to sell and effectively reduced the number of people sharing the profits from three to two."
Lea anticipated the next conclusion her sister would draw. "You think Angelo's poisoning was Julia's attempt to get rid of the third partner. Why would she do that? Angelo was willing to sell."
"Because she got greedy," Maddy rubbed her hands together. "As the sole living partner, she stood to pocket all the profits."
Lea tapped her fingernail on the table, eyes scrunched. "You haven't explained two types of poison being found in Barrett's body."
"Covering her bases if you ask me. If one dose didn't do it, two was bound to get the job done," Maddy concluded, carrying empty mugs to the sink. "C'mon, let's copy these emails to a flash drive and return the computer to the cabinet where I found it."
"Those emails will never stand up in court because of the way they were obtained."
"It does
n't matter. I'm going to confront Julia directly. When she finds out we've got the goods on her, she'll confess."
Lea was doubtful of Julia being intimidated enough to confess to anything, much less murder.
Maddy pointed to one of the files instructing her sister to open it. "Before you turn it off, you can see why he kept this computer away from Julia." The file contained pictures of beautiful women. "I recognize some of them from the pictures at the Theatre as past leading ladies. Who do you think the others are? Do you think he collected pictures of women he had affairs with?"
Lea shrugged her shoulders. "No idea, but it seems like a lurid hobby if that's what he was doing." She aimed the mouse at one of the pictures. "She looks familiar. Is she someone who's been at the Theatre recently?"
"I don't think so, but I mostly saw people in the production. Maybe you saw this woman in the audience the night you attended."
"Or at the Pre-Production Dinner."
"I'm sure I've never seen her." Maddy closed the file and put the computer in a carrying case. "Let's go. I'm anxious to confront the guilty party."
• • •
At the Theatre, Maddy repeated her trick with the paper clips and replaced the computer. Before re-locking the cabinet, Lea shuffled through faded, yellowed mementos of past performances. One of the programs featured Barrett on the cover, but the logo wasn't familiar.
"This isn't the Players Theatre. Do you recognize this venue?"
Maddy snuck a quick glance without showing much interest. "It's a small theatre in Los Angeles, close to where my ex-hubby and I lived. On long summer evenings, we used to walk to the mall, have dinner at one of the outdoor restaurants, then stroll down to the theatre to see a play."
She threw the program back in the drawer and locked it. "I'm going to find Julia."
"You should call Tom, Maddy. You'll only create a scene by accusing her."
"You said yourself there's no proof of anything. Tom would only laugh at us. Maybe she won't confess, but I might rattle her enough she'll make a mistake and say something which gives her away."
Lea shook her head certain her sister was underestimating the widow. "Go ahead. I'll be with you in a minute." She was distracted. She was missing something; she didn't know what.
• • •
Maddy climbed out of the trap room and raced to the offices almost colliding with Julia carrying a large cardboard box.
"Skipping out, Julia?" Maddy exclaimed.
"What in the world are you yelling about, Maddy?"
"Or maybe you're ditching the evidence."
Julia set the box on the stairs. "Overacting a bit, aren't you? Like you did with the four lines you had in the play."
Her caustic remark gave Maddy pause but not enough to sway her from her mission. "Don't ask me how but I've come into possession of emails indicating you were negotiating for the sale of the Theatre without your husband's consent. He was the only obstacle standing in the way of getting the money you needed to start a new life, one without the theatre or him. You had to get rid of him. You did it by poisoning the mushrooms he ate at the Pre-Production Dinner."
"Don't be a fool. You're jumping to rash conclusions. I was as surprised as anyone when my husband ended up dead. I'll admit to putting poison in those mushrooms to scare him into agreeing to the sale, but the amount of poison I used couldn't have killed anyone."
"Fat chance of anyone believing your story. And what about Angelo? Don't tell me you didn't attempt to kill him, too, in order to reap all the profit."
"Don't you see? I didn't administer the fatal dose of poison to my husband; I knew it had to be Angelo."
Maddy threw up her hands in total confusion. "You wanted to kill Angelo because he killed your husband?"
"Hardly. I was sending him a message he better not try to get rid of me the way he disposed of Barrett. I knew Lieutenant Elliott considered him the prime suspect. I hoped the detective was suspicious enough to consider Angelo perpetrated a minor case of food poisoning to defer suspicion from himself. It all played out exactly as I had hoped. Angelo was likely to be indicted for Barrett's murder. As far as the partnership was concerned, he would be incapacitated giving me full power to control and dispose of the assets."
"Criminy. You're making my head spin," Maddy proclaimed, slapping her forehead. She turned around to enlist her sister's help. Lea was nowhere in sight.
• • •
Lea had taken the back stairs to the dressing room. She entered quietly, observing Dianne Thomas staring into a lighted makeup mirror. She spoke to the younger woman in a gentle voice. "I was afraid you'd left already."
Dianne turned from the mirror to gaze vacantly at Lea. "I was planning to go, start a new life, and leave all this behind until I realized that wherever I go, whatever I do, I’ll still have myself to deal with."
Lea walked over and sat down but waited for the girl to speak.
"Why have you come looking for me?" The question sounded flat as if she already knew the answer.
"I figured out Barrett Mason was the man who seduced your sister."
"He was performing as a guest headliner for a run at a theatre in Los Angeles where my sister had a bit part. Julia wasn't there; she stayed in Buena Viaje to manage their Theatre.
When I went through my sister’s things, I learned his identity. I vowed revenge and began making plans. It took several years. First, I had to get experience as a director's assistant. While I was training, I learned everything I could about Barrett Mason. With experience on my resume, I was able to get hired by a director known to do plays for Barrett.
When my boss signed on for one of the productions at the Theatre in Buena Viaje, I finally got my chance. When I met him, I could understand how my sister would have fallen for him but my heart was so filled with venom, his charms never worked on me.
After our run in Buena Viaje, the Director left for Europe. Barrett offered me a position as in-house Director's Assistant. I set the wheels in motion to wreak my revenge."
Lea listened without interrupting, spellbound by the sense of otherworldliness which surrounded Dianne.
"One night he found me backstage crying after Chad had been particularly cruel. ‘Oh, my dear,’ he said to me, ‘you're shooting your heart's arrow in the wrong direction. Let it land where it will be cherished. That lothario is not for you, or any woman.’
I argued, ‘With the right woman, Chad could change, but it doesn't matter. I'm in love with him.’
She laughed in a self-deprecating manner which sent a shiver up Lea's spine. "How pathetic I must have looked and sounded. Barrett took pity on me. ‘You deserve better’ he said. We started an affair."
Dianne stared into the mirror with curiosity as though the reflection there was of another person. "Letting him have his way with me, the same as my stepfather, lent poignancy to my revenge greater than I could have imagined."
"Did he ever know who you were?"
"I whispered my sister's name in his ear one night when he was seducing me."
He looked surprised. ‘How do you know that name?’ he asked me.
I revealed our relationship.
He asked how she was. I told him she was dead, but not how or why. He expressed his condolences recalling what a beauty she was and how he had enjoyed knowing her, falling just short of admitting their affair.”
"Was he shocked to learn he'd had affairs with both you and your sister? Did he stop seeing you?"
"On the contrary. The notion he had unknowingly seduced sisters intrigued him; if anything, it whetted his appetite."
Lea felt her heart wrench. Dianne was the woman Barrett referred to when he said Angelo would be surprised to find out who he was having an affair with.
The young woman turned to face Lea. "When did you figure out it was me?"
"Moments ago, I saw a program of a play Barrett had done in Los Angeles. It included names of the players. I recognized one of the names; it was your surname. That jogged my memory of t
he picture of your sister you showed me. I had seen that face in a group of pictures, presumably of women with whom Barrett Mason had affairs."
The young woman had no response. Her eyes glazed over and dimmed.
Lea felt her heart breaking inside of her. "I can't tell you how sorry I am, Dianne, for both you and your sister."
The young woman turned to stare at her face in the mirror. "All I see are the same dead eyes staring back as the ones I saw on my mother's face the day the police took her away."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
For their weekly get-together, the foursome chose a favorite seafood restaurant at the Landing featuring a full-length bar facing the Marina and a salad bar in the shape of a wooden ship. The waitress showed them to an outdoor table which afforded them a dockside view of the channel and noted their order for drinks and appetizers.
They took turns oohing and aahing as boats with multi-colored sails and sleek cabin cruisers passed in front of them. As they nursed their drinks and munched on fried zucchini and onion rings, they talked about the poisonings.
"The coroner was right," Tom said. "It boiled down to figuring out which poisoning was meant to scare and which was meant to kill. In Julia's case, she knew of Angelo's habit of eating lunch after the noon crowd and the chef's routine of plating the lunch special for his boss. It afforded her the perfect means to ensure only he was poisoned."
"And cast suspicion not only on Angelo himself but on the chef or anyone else in the kitchen," Maddy suggested.
"Of course, she had no way of knowing he wasn't dining alone," Lea interjected, "that he had invited Paul and me to join him and Camilla for lunch."
"When she saw you seated at his table, she must have been horrified, but it was too late to retrieve the poison without showing her hand," Tom surmised.
