A Sporting Murder

by Lesley A. Diehl

  First, I needed to check in with Alex. There was no way I was going to visit the Warren house if Alex was still sitting on it. What would that accomplish, other than making him tell me to butt out as usual?

  “Grr-umph?” came a voice from my cell when I connected.

  “Hi, Alex.”

  “Grr-umph? Is that you, Eve?”

  “You were expecting another woman?”

  “I was asleep.”

  I wasn’t surprised. I was running on empty too and jealous that he’d found time to grab a nap.

  “Was anybody at the Warrens’ place the last you checked?”

  “Nope, and no sign they’d returned since I began tailing them earlier last night. Frida called me and said she had today and tonight off, so she’s sitting on the place.”

  Really? Hmm. That meant she might enjoy company … my company.

  “Are you still worried about Mrs. Warren and Moses’ safety? Still think they’re innocents in all this and not in on something illegal?” Alex clearly thought my speculation about them was absurd.

  “Look, it’s as good a guess as yours.”

  “I don’t think so. You are so naïve about people, Eve.”

  I heard a yawn over the phone.

  “Get some sleep. Give me a call when you wake up.”

  “You need sleep too. Are you home yet?”

  “Um, yep. Sure am. I’m just about to turn in right now. Sleep tight.” I disconnected, uncrossed my fingers and jumped into my car. Frida, honey, you’re about to have help. Here comes Eve to the rescue.

  “Does Alex know you’re here?” Frida asked.

  I didn’t reply, only gave her a sheepish look.

  Our two cars sat on the road that intersected the one on which the Warren house sat. It was a good spot from which to keep an eye on the house as we’d positioned the cars behind a palm tree and a large century plant.

  “They sure grow them big out here, don’t they?” I said, admiring the size of the spiny plant in front of us.

  We sat in silence for a while. I rubbed the amulet Grandfather had given me. It was itching. I moved my hand to my throat, thinking I would remove it, but I hesitated. Maybe it was trying to tell me something.

  “Would you stop that infernal scratching? It’s driving me crazy.” Frida leaned out of the driver’s side window and put her binoculars to her eyes.

  “Nothing. It’s as if they’ve gone away on vacation.”

  “Or they’re hiding from someone.”

  “Maybe. It’ll be dark soon, and we won’t be able to see much unless we get closer. Wait a minute. There’s a truck coming.”

  “It’s them.”

  Moses pulled his truck up to the open gate and pulled in. Mrs. Warren got out and headed toward the front door. We heard the dog barking from inside the house.

  “Poor thing!” I said. “It’s probably hungry. And now, time for a little come to meetin’ time with Eve.” I got out of my car before Frida could react, and I sprinted to the Warren house, catching Moses just as he was about to close the driveway gate.

  I heard Frida call my name.

  Moses squinted in the dim light of the setting sun. “You! And it looks like you brought the cops this time. Now what do you want?”

  “To ask you a few more questions and to tell you I know about Mr. Warren.”

  The expression on Moses’ face became more shuttered than before. “I don’t know what you mean, but we’re tired of you coming around here, bothering us.”

  Frida came up behind me. I saw the curtain on the front window move; then Mrs. Warren stepped out on the front stoop. “Let them in, Moses.”

  He looked as if he was about to refuse, but then he gestured toward the door.

  Mrs. Warren had just fed the dog, which was wolfing down his bowl of dry food. I decided to get right to the point. “We followed you last night and know you went out to the Reed ranch. My PI friend thinks you went there to warn Reed and his foreman that the law was getting close.”

  Mrs. Warren and Moses exchanged worried looks.

  “Is that what you think?” asked Moses, his glance taking in Frida and me.

  Frida opened her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it. “When we described the foreman to you last night, what I saw in your faces wasn’t ‘The jig is up, better warn everybody,’ but rather ‘Better find out if what we suspect is true.’ Both of you looked surprised to me and more than a little terrified.”

  Mrs. Warren’s hand went to her throat. “I didn’t know he was still alive. I don’t understand how that can be. But he is, isn’t he? We wanted to see for ourselves, but then we decided it was too dangerous.”

  “Someone reported a truck coming up on you last night. The person driving it saw both of you clearly in his headlights. If that was your husband, Mrs. Warren, you could be in danger.”

  Frida finally broke into the conversation. “Eve here thinks Reed and the foreman who calls himself Hunter are a threat to you, but I’m thinking she’s wrong. I think it’s just as likely that you knew all along your husband was alive and you and he planned a way to make David pay for your son’s death. Maybe Moses helped you.”

  A vehicle slowed to a stop in front of the house. I peeked out the window and spotted a black pickup. Someone got out. In the weak light from a streetlamp on the far corner, I could see a man who looked like Hunter. He stared at the house then got back into the truck. It started up again and continued down the road.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling,” I said. “Reed’s foreman who goes by the name of Hunter just cruised by the house, made a quick stop, and now he’s turning around. I think it might be smart to get out of here no matter what you think, Frida.”

  Frida nodded. Mrs. Warren grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter, Moses snatched the dog up in his arms, and we dashed out the back door. The overgrown backyard provided us cover from the road. From behind a clump of palmetto, I had a clear view of the front yard and the truck. Hunter had stopped the vehicle and gotten out again. He walked toward the house carrying something in his hand, some kind of a bottle. Was he having a beer? Maybe he was drunk and wanted to scare his wife and hassle Moses. When he stopped I heard the sound of a click and saw a small flame flicker in his other hand. Was he lighting a cigarette? Maybe I was wrong, and he was visiting his partners in crime. But why had Mrs. Warren and Moses grabbed the dog and so eagerly followed us out of the house? No, they were afraid. I knew it.

  He moved the fire toward the bottle. Flames leapt out of the top of it. He drew back his arm and pitched the bottle through the front window. A Molotov cocktail! The room exploded, bright yellow and red tongues of fire shooting out through the window, the smell of gasoline strong in the night air. Now I could see Hunter’s face lit by the leaping flames. He was smiling, a devil’s grin, and I heard laughter as he got back into his truck and drove off.

  Chapter 22

  Mrs. Warren collapsed against Moses. “We could have been inside there if the two of you hadn’t come along.” Their dog barked at the fire, showing some animation for a change.

  Frida nodded. “You were right, Eve. They didn’t know anything about her husband still being alive, and he’s determined no one finds out he’s not dead.”

  “But people do know. We’re on to him,” I said.

  “He doesn’t think so. He’s certain he’s covered his tracks. His only worry was seeing his wife with Moses on Reed’s property last night. Now he’s sure he’s taken care of that problem.”

  “I think we shouldn’t allow him to think otherwise or he’ll try again.” I watched as Mrs. Warren cried into Moses’ shoulder and the dog whimpered, its tail between its legs.

  Frida chewed on her thumbnail. “Now I have to decide what to say to my boss. Knowing that Sheriff Leopold was buddies with Reed in the army and that he might also have known Warren makes me uncomfortable. If my boss tells him what we know—”

  “Why tell him anything? You said yourself you’d have to check Nappi’s information
. Until you do, it’s not official.”

  “There’s Mrs. Warren and Moses Ermlich to consider. I think you’re right, Eve. They need to remain dead for now or Hunter will take another shot at them.” Frida spun around on her heel and looked back at the house. “Let’s see if we can make Mr. Hunter’s life a little uncomfortable. Eve, do you think you can find a public phone in town some place? One that still works?”

  I thought for a few minutes. “I think there’s one at the gas station down from the intersection of the roads leading to the casino and the state park. It’s not far from here.”

  “Good. We need to call in a tip about the fire from a phone that doesn’t lead back to one of us. Tell the police you think you saw a man at the fire tonight and give them Hunter’s description and the description of the truck. And be sure to mention the Reed ranch sticker on the truck.”

  “Okay. Will do. That ought to make him squirm a little when the cops come to pay him a visit.”

  Frida’s lips formed a satisfied smile. “We all saw what happened tonight, and it’s our duty as good citizens to call it in, but it’s also my duty to protect us. I’ll have to make up some story about why I was out here.”

  “You’re going to lie?” I was shocked. Frida was a by-the-book kind of cop.

  “Not at all. I was driving out this way, and I saw a house in flames. I’ll just leave out anything else for the time being. However, the fire department will comb the house for bodies and—”

  “It’ll take some time for them to find there are none, won’t it?” I asked.

  Frida nodded.

  “By then, something will break. Meantime, Mrs. Warren and Moses can bunk at my house.” It was usually filled with visitors anyway. A few more couldn’t make a difference.

  Frida gave me a penetrating look. “ ‘Something will break,’ you said. Just what were you referring to, Eve? Something’s afoot, something that involves your not-so-worried-about-how-legal-the-plan-is friend, Mr. Napolitani.”

  I gulped. Frida could read me so well.

  “He’s going to do a little hunting at the Reed ranch on Sunday. That’s all. Just to determine the lay of the land. Nothing illegal about that, is there?”

  “If you and he hatched it, then there’s got to be something funny going on.”

  The sounds of sirens interrupted our conversation. One of the neighbors must have already called in the fire. Mrs. Warren still clung to Moses, crying softly into his shoulder. The dog just sat staring at the fire—what energy it had, spent. At the sound of the fire trucks, the dog began to howl and Mrs. Warren wiped her eyes and looked back at her burning house. “Maybe it’s time for a new beginning. That house held too many bad memories.”

  “You’ve lost all those pictures of your son—” I said.

  “I’ve got this one left, taken several months before he died.” She pulled a snapshot out of the small purse she’d snatched off the counter. “And copies of his baby pictures and others from his childhood are at his grandmother’s house. And of course, if there were any of his father still left in there, I’m glad they’re gone.”

  “I think you should get out of here before someone from the police or fire department spots you. As for me….” Frida gave me a wave and began to walk toward the house. I knew she didn’t relish concocting a story about the fire, but I hoped she’d only have to prevaricate for a short time about what she knew. She wouldn’t lie; she’d just sidestep the truth until her conscience got to her. I hoped that would be sometime after Nappi came back from the Reed ranch. Maybe we’d know more then.

  I hustled Mrs. Warren, Moses, and the dog into my car and headed for the back way out of the neighborhood. I patted my chest where my amulet rested between my breasts. Maybe it had nothing to do with our getting out of the house before it went up in flames, but I’d never be without it again.

  Well, I thought to myself as I drove home, I had a bit of explaining to do to Alex. That could wait until tomorrow. I struggled to keep awake. Why did crime fighting always seem to involve lack of sleep? Did criminals lose sleep or were they up nights also? I hoped so. I gritted my teeth and focused on the road ahead.

  This was going to be a great day, I said to myself as I drove down the Bee Line Highway toward West Palm and the clients there who would be only too happy to see me and consign their Western duds to our store. I’d visited clients yesterday also, collecting items for the rodeo. I rolled down the window and hummed a little tune as I sped by a pair of Sand Hill Cranes and their gawky young offspring breakfasting by the side of the road.

  Everything was coming together, I told myself, although I couldn’t say just how Jerry had reported that Madeleine had done well driving with him the other night. No more dings or scrapes on the rig. That meant the trees and wildlife on the canopy road to Stuart were safe for the day. Mrs. Warren and Moses Ermlich were securely ensconced in my guest bedroom, having been warned not to go out or make contact by phone with anyone. The dog was staying with one of Frida’s friends who ran a dog boarding business out of her home.

  Frida decided her boss didn’t need to know they had escaped from the burning house, at least not yet. She rationalized her silence by pointing out that she wasn’t involved with the homicides of either David’s client or Sammy’s nephew Bernard, so why would she know anything of an official nature about anyone connected with the Reed situation? I wondered how long she could continue to tell herself that before she broke down and spilled what she knew to her captain.

  I pushed that little worry out of my head and focused on the conversation I’d had with Alex Thursday morning when he dropped by for coffee. Our talk went amazingly well, but then, what was done was done. I had house guests and now he had something important to tell David about the case. Alex and I agreed that Madeleine should be kept in the dark about everything concerning Mrs. Warren, Moses Ermlich, the fire, and Mr. Warren, aka Hunter. No sense in worrying her or giving her what might turn out to be false hope for David’s release.

  And then there was Elvira Reed’s grand opening party on Saturday. I could hardly wait. I had no idea of what I wanted to say to her or what I would do, but I was itching to see her face when Madeleine and I took her up on her invitation. I knew she’d sent it to be bitchy, shoving it in our faces that she had a shop and we didn’t. Correction. We did have a shop. Ours rolled. Hers didn’t. Whatever might happen at her place this afternoon, I’d never buy a thing from her. I was certain of that. Unless she had some shoes I couldn’t resist. I mentally slapped that awful thought out of my head and drove into the morning sun.

  My first stop at Jeannette Randolph’s netted me very little merchandise—only one Western shirt, and it was a small petite, a size that was difficult to sell. Most of the gals in Sabal Bay were womanly in their proportions. True, some of the anorexic matrons from West Palm might be able to fit into it, but it was a horrible blue plaid that I had little hope of pushing on anyone with taste. Further, Jeannette seemed eager to get me out of the house in a hurry.

  My next stop, only two blocks away, shed some light on what was going on. Marjorie Sinclair—my client who had told me not to worry about Elvira as competition—answered the door. The warmth of her smile made it clear she was happy to see me. When I told her that I was here to pick up any items she might have for the rodeo, she gestured for me to follow her down the hall to her bedroom.

  “I’ve been meaning to get up to Sabal Bay to drop these off and save you a trip down here, but I’ve been busy. I heard you wanted items for the rodeo, so here you go.” She pulled several large bags out of her closet. “My friends and I got this together knowing you could use the merchandise.”

  “I’m so grateful to you.” I grabbed both bags while Marjorie stepped back into her walk-in and pulled several more bags from the back of the closet.

  “No, no. We’re grateful to you to be able to sell our items. Each of the items is tagged with the name of the owner.”

  “I stopped by Jeanette’s just now, but she didn�
��t have much. Too bad! She’s such a clothes horse that I was certain she’d load me down.”

  Marjorie leaned against the closet wall. “I hate to tell you this, but she’s been consigning with that Reed woman. So have some of the others.”

  “Damn.”

  “Most of us have remained loyal to you.”

  “And I appreciate it, but I know it’s been difficult. Now that we don’t have a location, at least one that doesn’t move, it’s hard to find us unless you hop over in the evening and catch us in our parking slot at the market. Some of you have done that, even though it’s inconvenient.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s not a problem. It’s an adventure. It works out just fine for those of us who want to take in the sights in Sabal Bay and then do a little dancing at the Biscuit.”

  “What ‘sights’ are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Well, you know. That airboat tour. I’ve been on it twice this month.” She winked at me.

  I laughed. “You devil you. You’re not talking about taking in the tour. You’re talking about drooling over my friend Sammy.”

  “Well, yes, and then there’s that real cowboy experience at the Careful Ranch. You know, riding, learning to rope, bullwhip cracking.”

  “Now that’s one I’ve not done yet. I guess I should check it out.” I picked up two bags, and Marjorie got the rest. We toted them out to my car.

  “I hear Elvira Reed is having a grand opening Saturday,” said Marjorie. “I got an invitation, but I’m not going.”

  I dumped the bags in the trunk. “Why not? It might be fun. If you come in the late afternoon Madeleine and I will be there.”

  “Now that I’d like to see. I’ll bring the other girls who’d like to see Mrs. Reed take a tongue lashing from you.” Marjorie chuckled and walked into the house.

  The rest of my stops yielded many more items, so that by the end of the day my trunk was full.