I found myself questioning my instincts again, something I never did before I got hit with cancer. Self-doubt, both physical and mental, had seeped into my core. It felt like I’d made a mistake again, but now I didn’t have much of a choice; Sanchez was stewing behind the door.
Checking again, there still wasn’t a message from Vargas. I grabbed the knob and opened the door. Sanchez was sitting like a schoolboy at the steel table. He swung his head toward me, revealing a crude tattoo on his neck. The rendering of a snake screamed jailhouse and bolstered me. Maybe I wasn’t losing it after all.
“I’m Detective Luca. I’m heading the investigation into the Marilyn Boggs murder.” I sat across from him and centered my folder.
“It’s a shame what happened to her. She was a nice lady.”
He had less of an accent than the lady at the pawn shop had said. “How long have you been working on Keewaydin?”
“About two years. I got the job when I was working with Gonzalvo Landscaping. We was doing the pool for them.”
“What are your duties there?”
“Well, to be honest, just about anything, you know, that needs to be done: taking care of the landscaping and beach areas, keeping up with things like painting and minor repairs. There’s always stuff that needs to be done.”
“With the size of that place, just changing the light bulbs would keep someone busy.”
“Those are some high ceilings. I need to take a twelve-footer to reach the high hats.”
“How many maintenance people are there?”
“There’s me, Mr. Pena, he’s the manager, Pedro, and Emilio.”
“So, four full-timers?”
“Yeah, we get it all done. But sometimes we gotta bring in help when it’s a big job, like when we upgraded the dock.”
“Has there been a need recently to bring any outside help in?”
“Last time, I think was for the roof on the main house. A couple of panels were, like, rusting. They were defective or something.”
“When was that?”
“Uh, maybe five, six months ago.”
“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm Mrs. Boggs?”
He shook his head. “No, she was nice lady.”
“That’s what they tell us. She wore a lot of jewelry, I hear.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he shrugged.
“Did you ever work inside the main house?”
He shook his head. “No, I worked mostly on the landscaping.”
“Didn’t you say you used a big ladder to change the light bulbs?”
His shoulders sagged. “Uh, that was long time ago. Not recently.”
“I see. Shell, the housekeeper, she said you were clearing the shower drains in the master bedroom a week before Mrs. Boggs was murdered.”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“I didn’t say you did. Were you in the master bathroom recently?”
“I forgot. Mr. Pena told me to clear the drains, that Mrs. Boggs was complaining it wasn’t going down fast.”
“Where else were you in the master suite?”
Sanchez’s voice squeaked. “No place else.”
“Were you in Mrs. Boggs’ closet?”
“No, no. I wasn’t.”
I opened my folder and slid a picture to Sanchez. “What were you doing at Capital Pawn?”
He picked it up with his left hand. “Oh, yeah, my sister, she found a ring and wanted to sell it.”
“And where did she find this ring?”
“I think she said on the bus.”
“You sure about that?”
“I don’t really remember.”
“The ring you tried to fence belonged to Mrs. Boggs.”
“That’s crazy, man. How can that be?”
“How? Simple, you stole it after you killed her.”
“Hey, man, don’t try to pin the murder on me.”
“You took the ring but didn’t kill her?”
“No, I didn’t do it.”
“Come on, Raul. It’s a lot easier if you tell the truth about all this. We got you. We have you on camera.”
“Okay, okay, I took the ring.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. Where did you take the ring from?”
“Her closet.”
“Is that where the necklace and other rings were?”
Sanchez’s shoulder sagged.
“We know about the other jewelry, Raul. Were the other rings and necklace in the closet?”
He nodded.
“Where in the closet were they?”
“They were lying on top of a shelf. There was a whole mess of jewelry there. I didn’t think she’d miss them.”
“Did Mrs. Boggs catch you stealing them?”
“No.”
“So, you killed her before robbing her jewelry?”
“I didn’t touch her. I would never do something like that.”
“You know what I think, Raul? I think you saw the jewelry when you were cleaning the drains. Then you thought it would be easy and you came back to steal a few pieces, but Mrs. Boggs confronted you and you panicked.”
“No, no, that’s not true and you know it.”
“What I know is you’re gonna be spending some time in jail until we figure all this out.”
***
The traffic on Bonita Beach Road was heavy and I was late again. About a hundred yards from Livingston Road, a text chimed its arrival. I was dying to see who it was from, but I didn’t want to die in an accident either. I made a right and made my way to the Vasari turning lane where I took a peek; it was from Kayla.
I crossed over into Vasari’s entrance and pulled over. It was encouraging to see the text was longer to read than the preview window allowed.
Taking a breath, I read it. Then read it again. Kayla apologized for not responding, saying she had been busy working and taking care of her mother. Then she said she hoped I was feeling well and to take care of myself. What did that mean?
Chapter 31
Luca
On the way to our office after lunch, we were intercepted by a uniformed officer who said the sheriff wanted to see us. The new sheriff was becoming a sprained ankle. Thank goodness, he was only a placeholder. We took the stairs to the second floor and were quickly waved in to see the boss.
Frank Morgan looked up at Vargas and me but went back to thumbing through a file. A minute went by before he spoke.
“You went to see Gerey without asking first?”
“I don’t understand, is there a problem, sir?”
“You should know better, Luca.”
“We were following standard procedures.”
“Standard? You see, Luca, that’s where your Yankee roots went wrong.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t understand. It was just a routine visit.”
“Routine? There’s nothing routine about the Boggs. You understand?”
Vargas said, “Yes, sir. We realize how delicate the case is.”
Morgan ran a hand over his flattop. “I want this case solved, but I want it done quietly. Last thing I need is a bunch of damn reporters out of Fort Myers crawling all over here.”
Vargas said, “We’ll do our best, Sheriff.”
Morgan leaned forward. “Gerey gave me the rundown on the trust. There’s a bunch of money at stake, ain’t there?”
“All that money makes for plenty of motivation, if you ask me.”
“I ain’t asking. Just what do you think, I can’t see a simple fact?”
Before I could respond, Vargas said, “It would be helpful if you could speak with the DA about getting the subpoena we requested.”
Morgan eased back in his chair and smiled. “Already did. Now, you run off to them lawyers down the hall and see if they’ve got a judge to sign off on it yet.”
In stereo, we said, “Yes, sir.”
We fist-bumped as soon as we left Mo
rgan’s office, and headed to the prosecutor’s office. The subpoena wasn’t back yet, so we went down to our office to kill time before heading out to the Naples City Dock.
Sipping a coffee, I opened my emails and scrolled through them. One sender jumped off the screen. I hit enter.
“Hey, Vargas, guess what arrived?”
“My Christmas presents?”
“The Mexican police report on our boy Raul.”
Vargas came around my desk and looked at a series of mug shots.
“That’s him, all right. Look at the mug shot from his first arrest. He was just twenty-two, and from there you can see his descent into criminality in pictures.”
“It’s like he picked up a tattoo for every arrest.”
“And looks like he was using drugs more and more.”
“You know what? Today he looks more like he did as a twenty-year-old.”
“Maybe he’s cleaned himself up.”
Vargas pointed and read over my shoulder. “He was also known as Raul Sandez.”
“And a member of the Latin Kings gang. Those scumbags are into everything.”
“Surprised it took him two years to steal anything.”
“We don’t know if that’s true or not. Maybe nobody noticed.”
“I don’t know, Frank, you’re the one who says greed gets small thieves to turn into bigger ones and then into inmates.”
“That was pretty clever of me, don’t you think?”
Vargas hit me on the top of my head. “I think we go see Sanchez or Sandez, but after we execute the search warrant on Gideon Brighthouse.”
Chapter 32
Gideon Brighthouse
The sound of a boat approaching woke me up. I picked up the new biography on da Vinci off the floor and checked my watch. It was twenty after five. I slid a door to the deck open and went to the edge of the patio where the dock came into view.
What? A police boat was tying up and three people had disembarked. What did they want? I can’t deal with all this. I darted back inside. Maybe I should make like I’m not here, or that I’m not feeling well. I needed a Valium, now.
As I put the bottle back in the medicine cabinet I heard a rapping on the glass door and a voice call out, “Mr. Brighthouse? It’s the police.”
Spinning my head around, I saw the master closet. It was a good place to hide, and I stepped toward it when I heard the housekeeper say that I was home. I took a couple of deep breaths and jumped into the bathroom, splashing water on my face.
The housekeeper was calling my name as she mounted the stairs. Dabbing my face with a hand towel, I stepped into the master hallway and told her I’d be right down. Looking in the mirror, I took five slow, deep breaths.
I paused at the top of the stairs. The detective guy who looked like George Clooney was holding my laptop, and his partner was rummaging through a drawer in my desk.
“Excuse me, please leave my things alone.”
“Sorry, Mr. Brighthouse, we’ve got a court order.”
“I . . . I don’t understand. Who . . . who said you can do this?”
The woman detective held up a document and replied, “Judge Wilson.”
Digging into my back pocket I pulled out my cell phone.
Detective Luca said, “What are doing?”
“Calling my lawyer.”
“Not with that.” He reached for my phone, and I took off for the deck. A uniformed officer stepped in front of me, snatching the phone out of my hand.
The female detective took out a pair of handcuffs as she walked over. “Mr. Brighthouse, we need you to calm down and cooperate or we’ll have to restrain you.”
I reached for a chair as light-headedness washed over me.
“I . . . I need my phone.”
“You can use the house line, but you’ll have to wait until we’re finished here.”
My knees wobbled, and she said, “Please, take a seat and try to remain calm. I know this is difficult for you, but there’s no alternative.”
Grabbing my chest, I said, “I . . . I need my Valium. I’m getting an attack. My chest is killing me. Hurry, it’s in my medicine cabinet.”
She called out to her partner to get the meds.
Breathing choppily, I said, “You have to . . . leave. Take what you want. Just get out and . . . leave . . . leave me alone.”
***
The Valium finally wore off and I woke up on the couch. It was ten fifteen. Shell, the housekeeper, was watching TV in the den and noticed me as I made my way to the bathroom.
“Are you all right, Mr. Brighthouse?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“You sure, sir?”
“I’m fine. Were the police here earlier?”
She nodded. “You don’t remember? You’ve got to be careful with them pills of yours.”
I forced a smile. “I was hoping it was a bad dream.”
“There are turkey sandwiches and fruit on the kitchen table. Why don’t you have something to eat?”
“Thanks, Shell.”
“Good night, sir.”
Before she was off the deck, I’d already eaten half a sandwich. I was feeling better. Grabbing the other half, I went to see what the police had taken besides my cell and laptop.
***
No! No! I gasped and popped off my pillow. What’s going on? It was just a dream, thank God. It felt so real. I thought I was actually stabbing Marilyn. I could recall the resistance as I plunged the knife in. I rubbed my face.
The clock said it was 2:35 a.m. I lay back down. Damn, that was frightening. I closed my eyes, but when I did, the image of Marilyn lying on the floor appeared.
I got out of bed and did my breathing to try and relax, but my heart was still beating too fast. I sat in a chair and focused on my breath, feeling the air expand my chest before releasing it. After two cycles I was back to the image. I brought myself back to my breathing, but after another cycle a dead Marilyn flooded my head again.
Vaulting out of the chair, I headed to the bathroom and downed two Valiums. I paced the room for ten minutes until they started to kick in.
Chapter 33
Luca
Joan Hathaway met me at the door of her Port Royal home on Gin Lane. It looked about half the size of most surrounding homes. Still, it was worth around five million. I liked Hathaway right away. I was sure she had some facial work done, but she didn’t have that plastic look.
From her front door you could see clear out the back of the house to the bay. “Beautiful home you have, ma’am.”
“Thank you, we’ve been here for ages.”
“What’s the name of that bay out back?”
“Smuggler’s Bay.”
The view was magnificent. “I can see why you’ve stayed here so long.”
She showed me into the formal living room, which threw me off. Though three crucifixes and two ancient looking icons hung on the walls, there were at least six Buddha statues and an object that looked like a steering wheel from an old ship.
“I just made lemonade. Let me get it. Sit anywhere.”
When she left I took a close look at the wheel, trying to figure out what it was. Maybe this was from an ancient ship one of their ancestors piloted. Joan came in carrying a tray with a pitcher and glasses.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what is the significance of the wheel? Did it come off an old ship?”
She laughed. “My husband’s a Buddhist, and as you can see, he collects artifacts. The wheel is called a Dharmachakra, and its eight spokes represent the eight noble paths central to Buddhism.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“Neither did I until he brought it home. I’m a Catholic, and the only way to get him to stop bringing more Buddhas in was by putting up a crucifix up every time he did.” She laughed and poured two glasses, handing one to me.
“Thanks. Since talking religion is taboo these days, let’s get
to Marilyn Boggs. We’re trying to learn as much about her as possible. How long have you been friends?”
“I’m afraid to admit, will ages suffice?”
I smiled.
“Detective, you look like George Clooney, especially when you smile.”
“I get that a lot. So, you’ve been friends for, what, twenty years?”
“At least. We met in high school but lost touch when she went to a finishing school. Boy, that sounds like it’s from a different era, doesn’t it? Marilyn and I reconnected when she came back and landed at the United Way when I was president of the Collier chapter.”
“Did she tell you about her marital difficulties?”
She frowned. “I’m not comfortable talking about such private matters.”
I leaned forward. “Please, Joan, we need to understand what was going on in her life if we are to nail the SOB that did this.”
“I understand. Marilyn seemed happy with Gideon for a couple of years. Then she started making comments. This was after he had a heart attack. She said that he was a basket case and was losing his mind. I felt bad for Gideon and reminded her of the old saying.” Using her fingers to make air quotes, she continued, “ ‘In sickness and in health,’ but when I did, she said life was too short.”
“Did she tell you about her extramarital affairs?”
She nodded. “She didn’t say much until she started seeing John Barnet. Then she was like a teenager, trying to tell me things I frankly had no interest in hearing. I’ve been married to the same man for thirty years and couldn’t imagine doing what she did, especially with him.”
“You knew Barnet?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Why is that?”
“He’s not trustworthy, and that is more than just my opinion.”
“Can you elaborate? It might be important.”
“Well, on at least three occasions he overcharged us. It was like he was testing us, and when it slipped by, he upped the ante. The one that stuck out was for thirty thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money, and we’re a charitable organization with limited resources.”
The Serenity Murder (A Luca Mystery Book 3) Page 12
