Today I wanted to help Alex with Mrs. Warren. And then there was my business to run. Yikes, but I had a lot on my mind. Maybe there was help at hand.
I knew Frida wouldn’t want to spend her time pushing paper around a desk even though her boss told her explicitly not to follow up on any leads in Bernard’s murder. Now how could she help herself? She’d be off doing something she shouldn’t. Like me. Maybe the two of us could put our heads together and ….
“Eve. I know you’re plotting something.” Alex gave me his best I’m-a-PI look.
“I am. I mean, I am?”
“Let me be clear about your being here. I think Mrs. Warren found you, um, nonthreatening. I think she might be willing to talk to you rather than me, a man.”
“Sure and—”
“And that’s the end of it. You chat her up and find out what you can. Then you’re out of this. Understood?”
“Sure and—”
“The end of it, hear me?”
“Yup.” I smiled my best trusting-girlfriend-Eve smile at him. He scowled back at me.
We parked in front of the Warren house. There was no truck in the drive this time.
“Maybe she’s not home today,” Alex said.
I saw the curtain in the kitchen window move. “Someone’s there.”
We knocked and heard footsteps inside. Mrs. Warren opened the door and said, “I’ve got nothing more to say to you folks. I’ve had my fill of folks snooping around here, digging up my son’s death again. And what for? You never even tried that guy who shot him. Said it was justifiable. He was only a thirteen-year-old kid.”
Alex opened his mouth, and I knew he’d want to soft pedal what he had to say, to turn on his PI charm—and he had plenty of it—trying to wheedle information out of her by playing sympathetic. I had a lot of work to do, plans to lay, people to see, sneaky stuff to accomplish before day’s end. I couldn’t spend my time holding the hand of some woman who might simply be nothing more than a killer and a schemer. Enough, I thought and cut to the chase.
“Mrs. Warren, don’t waste our time. You know damn well your son was in the wrong. He was carrying a gun himself and threatening a child in her bedroom. What did you expect would happen? The man was protecting his daughter.”
At first I thought she was going to slam the door in our faces.
Alex grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him. “Eve.”
“I know you’ve had a hard time of it, losing your son and then your husband, but you can’t just let other people lose their lives too.”
She hesitated a moment, then opened the door wider. “What can I do to help?”
Gosh, I was even better at this interrogation business than I thought. Who knew my tough love approach would work? I think I was more surprised than Alex. Maybe she just appreciated honesty for once. Her willingness to talk with us either meant she was the best actress and criminal I’d ever met or she wasn’t responsible for those two deaths. I chose to believe the latter. I could be wrong, but what did we have to lose? At least we were in and had the opportunity to talk to her. We entered her living room and sat in two straight-backed chairs while she sat on the couch.
Shocking her had worked so far, so I continued in the same vein.
“Do you know Blake Reed?”
Again Alex laid a restraining hand on my arm as if it would prevent me from continuing. I shook it off.
“He’s the guy who runs the hunting ranch outside of Sabal Bay,” she said.
I nodded. The next question was a real shot in the dark. “You know him. How?”
She looked startled at my question and seemed about to deny any knowledge of Reed, but she sank back into the couch and sighed.
“I worked as his housekeeper for a while.”
“When? For how long? And what happened?” Now it was Alex who was asking the questions.
“I was with him for several years. I, uh, left shortly before I got the news that my husband had been killed.”
The hesitation in her voice told me she wasn’t telling us the whole truth. “Why did you leave? It seems to me you could have used the money then. I mean, with your husband’s death and all.”
“I couldn’t stand working for Mrs. Reed.”
Still not quite the truth. I pushed more. “You gave notice then?”
She nodded.
“Don’t you mean she fired you?” Another wild guess, but I was on a roll.
Her head came up and she looked at me with fear in her eyes.
“She told you?”
“No, she didn’t, but I imagine she threatened you somehow. It seems to be her style. What did she say?”
“She said she’d tell the police I stole money from her.”
“And did you steal?” I asked.
“No. I didn’t care if she fired me. I would have quit anyway. The woman was impossible. She treated everyone there like dirt. She even shortchanged me on my salary—twenty or thirty dollars every week—and I was getting sick of it.”
“So you’re not working now?” Alex asked.
She twisted her hands around in her lap and wouldn’t make eye contact with him.
“Mrs. Warren?” I said.
“Not officially,” she said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alex asked.
I guessed the answer. “Under-the-table work.”
She nodded. “I do house cleaning and pet sitting for some of the folks out on the highway, folks who live in that over fifty-five retirement community. They pay cash, and word of mouth around the community is enough for them to trust my work.”
“Why do you think Mrs. Reed fired you?” I asked.
“I don’t really know. She never gave a real reason. Just said my work wasn’t good enough.”
“But it was fine for almost two years. Doesn’t that seem off to you?” It seemed off to me.
“The ranch was growing—lots more business and more livestock trucks coming in with species I’d never seen before. I was curious so I asked about those animals. She told me it was none of my business. She let me go soon after that.”
“Did your husband know you worked there?” Alex asked.
She nodded. “I wrote him several times each week and told him about my work and about how the ranch was expanding. Then I had to tell him I was fired. I think that was the last letter he received before being killed.” She wiped a tear off her cheek with the back of her hand. “His company settled a small death benefit on me. I invested the money. Really, I work because I have nothing else to do. No husband and no son. I get lonely. I got too much time on my hands and too many bad memories.”
I heard a truck pull up and the front gate open. When I looked out the window I saw a man drive the truck through and then get out to close the gate. He was the tall, skinny dude from the casino. He walked toward the house, a pipe stuck in his mouth. Just before he got to the front door, he stuck it in his pocket.
Mrs. Warren greeted him with kiss on his cheek. “Some people here talking about the Reeds.”
“Those no good bums!” he said. “I told her she was better off not being around them. I think they’re up to some funny business.”
“My name’s Alex Montgomery and this is my assistant, Eve Appel. And you are?” Alex arose from his seat and crossed the room to shake hands.
“Moses Ermlich. Mrs. Warren, Maimie, is my friend.”
“And you know of the Reeds, how?” asked Alex.
“I was his ranch foreman until he tossed me out because he hired another guy, the one who’s still there now.”
“Where do you work? Another hunting reserve?”
“Nope. Reed gave me a lousy recommendation. And for no reason. I’m just as glad of it because I got a job as a janitor at the casino. I’m treated better there, and I got benefits too. I’m through with hunting reserves. Working for Reed left a bad taste in my mouth. The man treated his workers like slaves, especially the Indians and Guatemalans.”
“Did you ever report him?”
asked Alex.
He gave a bitter laugh. “After I left, one of the workers who was a friend of mine said he was going to the cops because of the beating the foreman gave one of the workers. Poor guy could hardly continue his work. This was after I had left the ranch. The next day my friend called me and warned me not to say a thing about Reed. He had his foreman pay my friend a visit. The foreman gave him a beating worse than that the poor Indian suffered. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
When Alex and I left, it was with the promise not to reveal either Mrs. Warren or Mr. Ermlich as sources of information about the Reed ranch. They were not people who were easily frightened, I thought, but the threat of a beating or worse was enough to make them cautious about what they said and to whom.
“Frida was right about that place,” Alex said.
“But she’s got no real evidence against him, and she’s riding a desk right now. And how does any of this figure into the killing of the client and Bernard? I wish I could tap into the Miccosukee rumor mill, but Sammy was my source, and he’s gone.” I pounded my fist against the car door in anger.
“It’s going to take Nappi some time to get Reed to trust him enough to let him in on anything illegal that might be going on at the ranch. And he might discover absolutely nothing. Too bad the cops don’t have enough to get a search warrant.” Alex paused, then added, “Snooping there would be dangerous. And illegal.” He gave me a meaningful look. “There’s probably enough firepower in that place to start a small war.”
Well, there were warrants, and then there were warrants. As for all the weapons in there, I wasn’t foolish enough to try the job myself. Now who did I know who might be willing to do a bit of snooping? I missed Sammy and couldn’t stop worrying about him.
Chapter 16
Gosh, it was great having Alex do detective work here in Sabal Bay instead of someplace where he had to spend the night or entire days away. On the other hand, it was hard to get time to myself, especially when I wanted to do my own detecting. It seemed to me that everyone had a job to do except me.
Today Madeleine was keeping her mind off David’s stay in the county jail by contacting our clients for clothes for our rodeo sale. Nappi was busy doing whatever a mob don did as well as awaiting the phone call from the Reed ranch inviting him back there for a unique hunting experience and hopefully some snooping. Grandy had opened the motor home consignment and intended to sell at the Sabal Bay flea market for the day, and Alex said he’d been working on David’s case later in the afternoon. He didn’t supply details, so he was intentionally keeping me in the dark. He thought that would keep me out of his business and out of danger. Did he really know so little about me?
I wanted to contact Jerry and visit the gambling grannies, but first I had to come up with some kind of cover. I was bored, jobless, and at a loss for a good story to justify my absence. The only other person who could have sympathized with my dilemma was Frida, who had to be going out of her mind sitting at a desk and shuffling papers.
Frida. Hmmm …. I thought to myself. It was Monday afternoon. Alex and I had just talked with Moses Ermlich and Mrs. Warren, and he’d dropped me at my house with a warning to stay out of trouble. I was sitting around, stewing over my inactivity. I should have gone to the consignment rig to help Grandy, but she could handle that by herself. She really didn’t need me getting in her way. Of course, I could have asked her for directions to the grannies’ poker games, but she’d either say I was looking for trouble or she’d want to come with me to find that trouble.
After an hour of mulling over my alternatives, I picked up my cell. I should reassure Alex I wasn’t doing something sneaky and keep him from worrying. Or from trying to stop me.
“Alex? It’s me. I just called Frida and asked her if she had time to drop by the motor home and take a look at some new items we got in. I knew she’d welcome any excuse to get out of the station for a few minutes.”
“Fine. Thanks for staying in touch. I’m following up on the stories Ermlich and Mrs. Warren gave us about the Reed ranch. Somebody around here has to be willing to talk about the Reeds. Why don’t you see if Frida can stop by the house this evening? I’d like to share with her what we found out and compare stories about the treatment of the workers at the ranch. Do you think she’d be willing to do that?”
“Oh, sure. I mean, I can only ask, but I’ll bet she’s as interested as we are in those stories.”
I ended the call. It was decision time. Did I really call Frida and ask her to the motor home as I’d told Alex I’d already done, or did I leave that for later, after I talked to Jerry at the Egret’s airboat business and paid a visit to the geriatric gamblers? I’d call Frida later, I decided.
I had to wait at least a half hour until Jerry came in with a boat of customers he had taken out into the swamps. I spent the time talking with Grandfather Egret, something I always enjoyed, but this time our conversation was tinged with his grief over Bernard’s death and his concern for Sammy, who had been missing since Friday night. As worried as he was about Sammy, he seemed positive about the outcome. That surprised me.
“I worry that Sammy found the men Bernard gambled with and got himself into something he won’t be able to get out of,” I said.
Grandfather tapped his pipe against the side of the tall stool at the airboat business’s counter.
“You don’t have much confidence in Sammy’s ability to get out of tight situations, do you?” He sounded disappointed in me. “He got you out of the swamp in a big storm, and that’s no little thing.”
He was right, of course. How could I doubt Sammy’s skills, intelligence, and cunning? I’d never seen the men who led Bernard astray. Maybe they were just a bunch of college kids who set him up. Or they could have been career criminals.
Grandfather Egret did his usual melding minds maneuver with me. “Even if those men are the baddest of the bad, I’ve been doing chants for days, and I feel the gods favor us over them.”
“Us is who? And them would be …?”
“Us would be our tribe, and them would be whoever Sammy met up with.”
“I wish I could be as certain as you.”
Grandfather shook his head. “It’s such a shame you’ve learned so little in the time we’ve been friends. Sammy got you out of the swamp, and I helped you capture a couple of killers. And you still have so little faith in us? Take that sad look off your face. You should try a few chants. It can’t hurt. And when he gets back, I’ll tell him how you helped. It might be better to sing than what you have planned. Safer, maybe.”
“Grandfather, sometimes I wish you couldn’t read my mind.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Do I know what you’ve got planned? No, but you want to talk to Jerry and that means you’re desperate enough to do something foolish.” He paused. “So are you going to do this thing alone?”
I nodded.
“Then you’d better take this with you.” Grandfather took something from his pocket and handed it to me. It was a leather pouch about half the size of a man’s wallet. There was a strap attached to it.
“An amulet for protection?” I hung the pouch around my neck with the strap and tucked it into my blouse.
“Is that what you white folks call it? Anyway, here’s the airboat and Jerry.”
I gave Grandfather a hug, then headed down the path to the airboat landing.
Jerry helped the customers to the dock. Most of them were women dressed expensively enough for me to think they must be matrons from the coast who had heard about the Indian airboat ride. The problem was Jerry was no Indian. I heard several women grumbling that they had been expecting a handsome warrior but got only an old man selling tickets and an airboat pilot who drove the boat erratically and knew little about the swamp.
Jerry looked as if he could use some sleep. He had dark circles under his eyes and a weary expression on his face.
“These women are driving me nuts, Eve. All they do is ask where the Indian is. What
do I tell them?”
“Maybe you could darken your skin and wear more Indian-like clothing. Seems to me you used to be pretty good at disguising yourself.” I was referring to the time Jerry dressed as a woman to fool the cops. He’d fooled all of us.
“Forget it, Eve. I can’t go on like this. It’s only been a few days but I can’t spend my nights guarding the motor home and my days helping Grandfather Egret in this business. I’m gonna fall asleep at the helm and crash these women into the swamp somewhere.”
Oh great, I thought to myself. I gave a sigh deep enough to rupture my appendix. Eve to Jerry’s rescue. Again. “I’ll give you a hand tonight if you tell me where the grannies’ gambling den is.”
“I think I could find my way back there, but I don’t think I can give you directions.”
What choice did I have but to wait until the last airboat ride of the day? My plans were almost trashed by a call from Grandy.
“Eve, dear, I just heard from Max. The boat engine is purring away again so he took on a fishing charter early tomorrow morning. I’ve got to get back to Key Largo to help.”
“I guess I could take over ….” I know I sounded reluctant.
“Don’t bother, dear. There’s been no business all day, so I can’t believe anyone will be wandering in now. And I’m sure you have other things to do.”
What did she mean by that?
“Grandy.”
I heard her chuckle. “Just stay out of trouble, would you?”
“Thanks for all your help. I’ll stay in touch.”
“Right. If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow afternoon, I’m coming back up here.” She disconnected.
Grandfather looked at me and asked, “You need something?”
He knew me almost as well as my Grandy.
I think he was a little disappointed that I only wanted him to guard the shop and not sell anything. He’d pitched in once before and did amazingly well pushing designer fashions to West Palm matrons. If Madeleine and I had the money, we’d give him a permanent position as a sales associate.
A Sporting Murder Page 13
