“I’ll check with Mr. Carlson, I’m sure he won’t mind if I take it since it was ordered for you.”
“Don’t ask the old grouch, he’ll have to check with Harriet and if she knows it’s for me, she won’t allow it.”
“Mrs. Carlson doesn’t have a say in how her husband runs the station.”
“Oh, yes she does, the old witch is the owner, Angus is merely an underling in the organization. He does what he’s told.”
Although the information was a surprise to Rebecca, it made sense. Harriet Carlson could be a very difficult woman. She was a monetary contributor to the Community Playhouse and Sandy Clark answered to her upon occasion. Rebecca chuckled thinking about the reaction Harriet would have had to The Secrets of Willow Lake.
The following morning Rebecca visited Mr. Carlson’s office.
“Mr. Carlson is in a meeting with the sponsor, Rebecca,” said his assistant, Barb. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Rebecca replied she was there to ask Mr. Carlson’s permission to take the bottles of pineapple juice to Carolina. She offered to reimburse the station for the cost.
“You don’t need Mr. Carlson’s permission; those juice bottles take up most of the room in the staff refrigerator. Carolina insisted we order them for her. No one else around here likes pineapple juice. We’ve been cramming our lunches and drinks in there. I promise it will be okay if you take the entire lot of them off our hands.”
Rebecca had an hour between the ending of the morning show and the start of rehearsal for the play. It gave her time to stop by the hotel to deliver the juice to Carolina.
“I’ll put them in the refrigerator for you,” Rebecca said as she placed them one by one on the empty shelves. “I’ll pour you a glass before I leave?”
After she left the suite, she passed a man in a dark suit walking toward Carolina’s door. She assumed he worked for the hotel and had the feeling it wasn’t a good sign that he had an angry look on his face.
Carolina was dozing off when she heard a loud knock on the door.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“It’s Delbert Thorpe, Ms. Bloom. I’m here to discuss your bill.”
Carolina opened the door. “Do you have to shout it to the world?” Carolina motioned for him to come in.
“Ms. Bloom, you are two weeks in arrears on your hotel bill. As financial director, I must insist you remit the entire amount or I will have you removed from your suite.”
“Mr. Thorpe, as I told you last week, I am waiting for my accountant to wire me money from abroad. I will pay my bill in full when it arrives. I’m afraid I’ve been under the weather and have let my obligations slide.”
“You have my sympathy, Ms. Bloom, however, I must insist you pay within twenty-four hours or I will enlist our security guards to have you removed from the premises.”
Delbert Thorpe turned to leave and winced when he heard the door slamming shut behind him.
All right, Bradley Pickett, it’s time for you to pay up.
Bradley Pickett’s mind was on only one thing when he answered his phone. He was preparing for his lunch date with the lovely Bianca. He’d met her the night before at a cocktail party and although he charmed her with his good looks and witty repartee, she refused his invitation to come home with him. There was nothing Brad liked better than a challenge.
“What do you want, Carolina, I’m busy.”
“You’re about to get busier Bradley, dear. You will go to your bank and withdraw ten thousand dollars cash. Bring the money to me before five o’clock tonight.”
“Carolina, are you crazy, I can’t get my hands on that much money in such a short time. What do you need money for? Did you finally drain Milty’s bank account?”
“If you must know, I need to pay my tab at the hotel. This antiquated town doesn’t know how to treat a celebrity, I should charge them for my presence at their crummy hotel.”
“So, they’re going to throw you out on your privileged butt for not paying your bill.” Brad tried to hide a chuckle.
“Shut up, Brad, get me the money or face the consequences.” Carolina hung up before he could argue with her.
Stupid bitch, I’ve got to figure out a way to get her off my back. For now, I don’t have a choice. I’ll get the money for her but this is the last time I’m caving into her demands.
At the Community Playhouse
Rebecca sat on a sofa backstage at the playhouse. She was waiting for her rehearsal scene to begin. It was nice to relax quietly, it gave her time to think. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand Carolina’s reluctance to see a doctor. She certainly didn’t have a fear of plastic surgeons. It was obvious she’d had work done more than once. Had she been led to believe there was something seriously wrong with her? Something that would end her career?
“You are deep in thought, Rebecca, you look worried,” said Barry Kemp when he stepped into the room.
“Hi, Barry, I was just thinking about Carolina, she’s been sick for a long time and refuses to see a doctor.”
“I don’t think she’s as sick as she pretends. She’s laying it on to get sympathy. I must admit it has been happier around here, and at the studio, without her. No one likes her, including me.”
“I know Carolina is difficult, Barry, but she’s a person just like you and me. Her life wasn’t easy, she didn’t have the love of her parents as we did. I know you don’t want her illness to continue.”
“No, of course, I don’t want that. Maybe she’ll move back to California. That would be a good solution, will you mention it to her?”
It was time for Rebecca to check in for rehearsal. Is Carolina disliked as much as Barry thinks? I hope it’s not true but I’m afraid it is.
Chapter Thirteen
“You certainly took your time getting here, Bradley. You’d better have the money with you or else,” said Carolina when she opened the door to her suite.
Brad was speechless, he couldn’t believe the change in the woman he hadn’t seen for several weeks. Her hair looked stringy and had lost its luster; her face had a gaunt look he’d only seen on people forty years older than Carolina and close to death.
“Carolina, what the devil is wrong with you? You look terrible.”
“Thanks, that is just what I needed to hear. Never mind, where’s the money?”
“Don’t worry, I brought it. All in cash, count it if you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust you but I’m not going to count it.”
Brad wondered if she was incapable of holding the bills long enough to count them.
“Here’s what I want you to do, take this money to the financial office and give it to a dickhead named Delbert Thorpe. Tell him it will pay me through the end of the month and get a receipt for it. Come back here and we’ll have a drink, I’ve got some of that good scotch you like.”
“Carolina, do you think you should drink alcohol? It can’t be good for you in your condition.”
“What condition? I’m a little under the weather, that’s all. If it makes you feel better, I’ll have my pineapple juice.”
***
Carolina was right, thought Brad, Delbert Thorpe is a dickhead. He didn’t mind taking the money although he wasn’t happy to hear Carolina would be staying through the month. Brad knew it was because he could rent the suite for an inflated price if a semi-permanent occupant moved out.
Brad walked back to the suite, he knocked and when Carolina didn’t answer, he used the key she’d given him months ago.
Carolina was sound to sleep on the couch. Brad opened the liquor cabinet and poured himself a hefty glass of scotch.
He picked up a mirror he’d found on Carolina’s dresser and put it under her nose. There was fog on the mirror indicating the woman was still alive.
Brad smiled to himself and began rifling through the drawers in Carolina’s bedroom. If only he could find her copy of the flash drive, he would make an offer to buy the one she’d left with t
he attorney in California. Maybe a subtle threat would convince him to return the flash drive to its rightful owner.
After searching through every drawer in the suite, he reached under the bed and pulled out a small wooden box. Why hadn’t he looked under the bed in the first place? Leave it to Carolina to pick the most obvious hiding place she could find.
Brad pried open the locked box with his car keys. The first thing he saw was a flash drive. He knew it was the one he was looking for. He spotted a piece of paper that looked tattered and colored with age. It was Carolina’s birth certificate. The line for her father’s name was blank. Brad felt a bit of sympathy for Carolina. He knew she’d never been close to her mother, and her father didn’t think she was important enough for him to claim her as his own. He looked into the box again and saw a stamped sealed envelope addressed to:
Bernard Winslow
Winslow, Winslow, and Sloan
21005 Fourteenth Street
Los Angeles, California 90071
Brad felt the envelope. It’s the other flash drive, Carolina never mailed it. I’m free.
Brad swallowed his scotch and held his glass high. Thank you, Carolina, he said to the sleeping woman. Here’s to your good health and mine. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he stepped into the elevator and push the button for the lobby knowing he was leaving Oakwood Park and Carolina Bloom for the last time.
***
Carolina awoke without realizing she’d fallen asleep. She noticed an empty glass next to a bottle of scotch. Next to the bottle was a receipt for payment to cover her suite through the month. She was sorry Brad left. She’d hoped they could rekindle their romance. She knew he resented her since the first day she decided to blackmail him. Her plan had worked, he believed her attorney in California held evidence of his wrongdoing. She had neglected to send the flash drive to Bernard Winslow, but she would do it as soon as she began to feel better.
Carolina’s nap made her feel groggy, she needed to splash water on her face. She walked into the bedroom on her way to the bathroom and let out a blood-curdling scream when she saw her wooden box opened on the bed. The flash drive and the envelope addressed to Bernard Winslow were gone.
“I could kill you, Brad Pickett, you low life creep. I hate you,” Carolina cried aloud. She threw the box across the room; it broke open and a picture tucked between the lid and the lining fell to the floor. Carolina picked up the photograph, she recognized her mother in her younger days, standing next to her was a tall, handsome man. The resemblance to Carolina was uncanny. She knew instantly the man was her father.
Carolina couldn’t put the photograph down. She walked to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of pineapple juice. She was thirsty and drank the glass quickly. She then returned to the sofa and sat with the photo close to her chest. She closed her eyes and dreamed she was meeting her father for the first time.
Later that Evening
Maria, the maid, knocked on Carolina’s door. When there was no answer, she used her pass-key to open the door.
“Housekeeping!” Maria called out. She entered the suite ready to pull down the covers of the bed. The maid normally placed a piece of chocolate on a doily for the guest’s enjoyment. However, Carolina told her she couldn’t stand the smell of the confection and to refrain from leaving it on her pillow.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Bloom, I don’t mean to disturb you, I will come back later. Ms. Bloom are you ill?” she asked with concern. Maria walked closer to the sofa and saw a stream of dried blood coming from the corner of Carolina’s mouth.
“Oh no, Ms. Bloom, I’ll get help,” Maria said although she knew it was too late. She called the operator who, in turn, called 911.
***
Detective Dan North arrived at the scene.
“Maria, did you touch anything in the suite?”
“No, sir, only the telephone on the table to call to report Ms. Bloom’s death.”
“How did you know she was dead?”
“I’ve seen death before, detective, my father was shot and killed while he drove me to school four years ago. A drunk driver ran over my brother when I walked him home from his baseball practice. I wish I could say Ms. Bloom was alive when I came into the room, but I knew it wasn’t the case.”
“I’m sorry for your losses, Maria, I won’t keep you. Do you know why the bottle of alcohol was on the desk?”
“No, sir, I didn’t notice it until now. I don’t think Ms. Bloom had any of it. She was too sick to drink alcohol, the only thing she drank was pineapple juice and she drank a lot of that. She told me she was always thirsty and it was the only thing that quenched her thirst.”
“You may go, Maria, If I have any more questions, I’ll let you know.”
The coroner, Dr. Simon, arrived as Maria walked out of the room. He quickly examined the body.
“Does anyone know what this woman has ingested? My guess is poison. I’ll need to get her to the lab as quickly as possible. Detective, until further notice, I recommend you treat this case as a homicide.”
“Will do, Doc. Hamilton, gather the juice bottles in the trash can and in the refrigerator. Also, the bottle of scotch and that glass. It’s evidence so use extreme care. In fact, wrap up the toothpaste, toothbrush, shampoo anything edible in the suite. Check the cupboards for crackers, cookies, anything you can find although, by the looks of the body, I don’t think the victim ate much.”
“Dan, what can you tell me?” asked Greg Hoffman, a reporter for the Oakwood Park Chronicle. “I heard the victim is Carolina Bloom. She’s a local celebrity. Any leads? What’s the cause of death?”
“Greg, you know better than to ask me questions I can’t answer. The coroner is examining the body. I don’t have any news for you at this time.”
“I’ve got to get the story in for the morning paper, can you tell me if you suspect homicide?”
“Of course, I can’t tell you that. Don’t try putting words in my mouth.”
“I won’t but I have two sources who tell me the victim is Carolina Bloom. I’m going to run with it.”
“I can’t stop you, Greg, I wish you would wait until we have some answers before you run with it.”
Greg knew if the victim wasn’t Carolina Bloom, Detective North would tell him. His silence meant he could publish the information without fear of being sued for telling a falsehood.
Chapter Fourteen
After reading the headline about Carolina Bloom’s death in the paper that Sunday morning, Rebecca felt physically ill.
“What kind of person lets a friend suffer without insisting she sees a doctor? I should have asked Dr. Whitcomb to see Carolina at the hotel. He’d have made the call and Carolina would be alive today.”
“Rebecca, you don’t know that,” said Andy. “Carolina was a grown woman, if anyone is to blame, it’s Carolina for being so stubborn. They suspect foul play. If that’s the case and someone wanted her dead, you couldn’t have done anything to change the outcome.”
“I know Carolina could be difficult but I can’t think of why someone would want her dead. Barry Kemp mentioned that no one liked her at the television station. The poor woman didn’t have any friends, except Brad Pickett. I’m not sure he was much of a friend, he seemed to resent being with her when he was in town.”
At the Police Station
“Dan, Doc Simon is on line one.”
“Thanks, Midge, I hope he has results for me, I have a few questions to ask certain people but not before we know the cause of death.”
“My money is on unnatural causes, but you know what a cynic I am.”
Dan smiled at his assistant as he picked up the receiver.
“Hello, Doc, North here, what have you got for me.”
“Detective, it’s as I suspected, the victim ingested minuscule amounts of rat poison over several months. According to the maid who checked in on her periodically during the day, the subject drank only pineapple juice and no other beverage or solid food for th
e last few weeks. The lab is testing the remaining juice bottles for traces of poison. This will be of interest; the entire case of fresh bottles was previously opened. I suspect someone compromised the pineapple juice before the victim consumed it.”
“Thanks, Doc. I’ll be anxious to hear what the lab finds. We seem to have a killer who was interested in torturing the victim with lingering effects of the poison. Did they enjoy watching the woman suffer? Otherwise, why not kill her quickly?”
“I can’t answer those questions, Detective, I’ve done my job, now it’s up to you.”
Dan called the lab. “How are you coming on those bottles of pineapple juice, Sammy?”
Murder In Oakwood Park Page 6
