by S. L. Menear
Mike shook his head. “I can’t believe the CSU missed this.”
“Come on, Mike. You’ll understand why when I show you.” Hunter headed upstairs.
I called up after them, “I’ll wait down here with the dogs.” I took Pratt and Whitney out on the terrace so they could take a run on the back lawn. When they finished, I led them into the great hall and lifted them onto a sofa with me. “Are Mommy’s little soldiers all tuckered out? Take a nap. I have a feeling this is going to be a long night.”
Hunter, the puppies, and I waited on a sofa in the great hall while Mike observed CSU techs recover the video camera and recorder. Embarrassed about missing the spy equipment, the team was very thorough and didn’t leave my home until well after midnight.
Mike strode into the great hall to give us an update. “Thanks for calling this in. The memory card in the recorder was from the day of the murder until now. A tech played it for me on a portable screen. It recorded everything that happened that afternoon and since.”
I had to ask, “Did it show who poisoned the Scotch?”
“No, but everyone told the truth about what they did in that room, including Brenda Carrigan. No prints on the camera, recorder, or memory card. Whoever installed the system was a pro. I’m hoping he’s the same person who hacked your video feed, but I still don’t have a clue that’ll help catch him.”
I speculated, “I think it’s safe to assume he had regular access to this house so he could retrieve the video cards and install new ones. Ask the women how long they’d been meeting the mayor here and if they were being blackmailed.”
Hunter added, “I’d lean real hard on that maid who supplied the key and code to the mayor. She might’ve given copies to the blackmailer.”
“She’ll end up with a public defender, and they’re always eager to make a deal. I’ll stop by her house in the morning and tell her we found the camera. She might be partnered with the pro. This’ll be her chance to roll over on him to avoid being charged with blackmail and accessory to murder.”
“I hope you catch him, Mike.” I moved to stand, and the puppies woke.
Mike held up his hand. “Stay put. I can let myself out. Good to see you again, Hunter.” He strode to the front door.
Hunter nudged me. “There’s noticeable tension between you two. I get the impression he’s trying to remain aloof, but he’s struggling with it.”
“He’s slowly warming to me.” I petted the dogs. “I’ll take them outside before bed.”
He picked up my wine glass and his beer bottle. “I’ll clean up.”
He hugged me when the dogs and I walked back inside. “We’re in this together, sweetheart. I’ll rearrange my schedule and do whatever it takes to help you investigate the crash. Give me Snake’s and Justin’s cell numbers so I can coordinate with them.”
He handed me his phone, and I entered the info. My photographic memory came in handy. I didn’t need to look up the numbers.
He petted the puppies, who were watching us. “That reminds me, who’s going to take care of them while we’re in the Bahamas?”
“My dog nanny is moving in tomorrow.” I grinned. “The dogs love her, and so do I.”
“You thoroughly vetted her, right?”
“Oh, yes, I know everything about her. She’s quite a character, and she doesn’t care if she sees me sleepwalking. She’s seen real ghosts.”
He smiled and checked the time. “One-thirty already. Better hit the sack. Breakfast at eight?”
“Count on waking to the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and bacon.” I kissed his cheek. “Sleep in whichever room you like. All the beds are made up and ready.”
Thirteen
I got up at seven, showered, dressed, and took the dogs out for their morning run. Before starting the bacon, eggs, and toast for breakfast with my uncle, I fed the puppies and brewed coffee.
Hunter sauntered in. “Smells great.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Let’s eat on the terrace. It’s nice and cool on these January mornings.”
We loaded two trays with our food and beverages and settled at the round, glass-top table overlooking the ocean. Italian tile flooring in multiple shades of blue glistened in the morning sun as a mild sea breeze ruffled the leaves on nearby banyan trees.
“I’ve been thinking about the crash site.” He took a sip. “Even if we locate it and find evidence of sabotage, it might be difficult to prove who did it. Don’t be disappointed if this turns out to be a long, frustrating investigation.”
“I agree this won’t be easy, but I’m determined to do whatever it takes to find that wreck.” I took a bite of bacon. “And if we discover evidence of sabotage, we’ll look for someone with a motive and maybe catch the killer.”
“Your Navy Intelligence experience should come in handy.” He reached down and gave each puppy a small piece of bacon.
“Hey, don’t teach them bad habits, like begging at the table.” I crossed my arms.
He grinned. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Everybody knows dogs haven’t lived until they’ve tasted bacon. They’ll be fine.” He patted their little heads.
My cell rang. I noted the caller ID. “Good morning, Mike.”
“Is Hunter with you?”
“We just finished breakfast. What’s up?”
“Put the phone on SPEAKER. Do you still have an armed guard patrolling your grounds?”
I hit the SPEAKER button. “Elite Security is providing guards for six months. Why?” I gave Hunter a nervous glance.
“I went to the maid’s house an hour ago.” His voice sounded strained. “I found her body. Looked like cyanide poisoning, same as the mayor.” He waited a moment to let that sink in. “Then I called Elite Security. Wilfred Sims hasn’t been seen or heard from in two days, so I checked his house and found his body. Cyanide poisoning. Someone is eliminating loose ends. If he thinks you know too much—”
“The locks and code have been changed,” Hunter explained. “Jett’s trained for combat, we’ll get weapons from her dad’s vault, and I’ll make sure she’s safe. Thanks for the warning, Mike.”
“Okay, good. Be careful, Jett. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up.
I frowned. “This is getting complicated. The blackmailer who installed the camera is probably also the guy who hacked my security system, like you suspected. And Sims gave off guilty vibes when I met him at Elite Security. He probably hired the hacker after the mayor asked him to have someone rig my tapes. Then when the mayor was murdered, the hacker decided to cut his losses. I bet he copied the murder method to throw the police off track.”
“Sounds plausible, but how did he know about the cyanide?” He poured another cup of coffee.
“Everybody knows. Brenda Carrigan blabbed it to the press.” I picked up Pratt and cuddled him on my lap. He sniffed at the table. “See? Now he’s looking for more bacon.”
Whitney pawed to get up on Hunter’s lap. He picked her up, and she sniffed the table too.
He laughed. “The dogs are fine, and we have bigger worries.”
My cell rang. It was Sophia.
“Good morning, Jett. Is it okay if I move in now, or should I wait until ten?”
“Now is perfect.”
“Good. I’ll be there in five minutes. Should I use a servant’s entrance?”
“Never. Come to the front door, and we’ll help you carry in your stuff.” I hung up and poked my uncle. “My dog nanny is moving in any minute. You’ll get to meet her.”
Right after we cleared the terrace table and carried everything into the kitchen, the doorbell rang, booming out the familiar beginning of Act III of Wagner’s Die Walküre opera.
I opened the door to Sophia, who stood beside four large wheeled suitcases. “Come in, Sophia. We’ll help you with the bags.”
Her eyes lit up when she spotted Hunter. “Please introduce me to this magnificent man.”
He grinned. “Hunter Vann at your service.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Let me get these for
you.”
He picked up two suitcases. “I’ll come back for the rest. Which room?”
“Second floor, north wing, the large suite next to the room the mayor was in.” I turned to Sophia. “He’s my uncle on my mother’s side.”
Smiling, she whispered, “Is he single?”
“Oh yes, and he loves women, but he doesn’t want to be tied down. He says it’s the wild Cherokee in him.”
“I hope he visits often. I could get used to looking at that kind of handsome. Does he like cannoli?” Her eyes focused on his well-shaped posterior as he climbed the stairs.
“He’ll love anything you make. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Thanks, but at my age, I have to limit the caffeine.” She leaned down and petted the puppies. “How are my little darlings doing? Have they been fed?”
“They’re fine for now. We had breakfast out on the terrace, and they took care of business on the lawn.”
He trotted down the stairs and grabbed the last two bags. “Be right back, Sophia. We need to talk.”
“We’ll wait for him on the terrace.” I led her and the dogs outside.
He joined us and smiled at Sophia. “I don’t want to alarm you, but there might be a killer lurking nearby. We have excellent security here with an armed guard and video surveillance, but I want you to be on the alert for anyone sneaking around.”
She reached into her enormous handbag and pulled out a Glock 26 handgun with a laser sight. “No worries. If he threatens us, I’ll blow him away.”
Hunter and I stared at the weapon, our mouths hanging open.
He pointed at the handgun. “Do you know how to use that?”
“Darn straight. I was raised in a Mafia family. I know guns, and I’m not afraid to pull the trigger.” She slipped the pistol back into her purse. “And I have a license to carry.”
I touched my uncle’s arm. “Sophia is Don Francesco Calabrese’s daughter.”
His jaw dropped again. “The Don Calabrese from New York?”
“Brooklyn. He ran the family for forty years. May he rest in peace.” Sophia crossed herself.
He smiled at the short woman with the red sheen on her dyed brown hair. “You’re quite the little spitfire, aren’t you?”
“Sweetheart, if I were twenty years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”
“I have no doubts, Sophia. My niece is in good hands. You ladies will be just fine.” He kissed her hand again.
He stood. “I have to go. Lots to do before our dive trip.” He kissed my cheek, petted the dogs, and sauntered out.
She watched him go. “What a man!”
Fourteen
GWEN
While Jett spent the day with Sophia, familiarizing her with the house and getting her settled, Gwen started her first day as a detective in the Palm Beach Police. Chief Rod Malone assigned her to a robbery investigation and explained it was to help her gain experience.
Gwen spent hours interviewing neighbors and sifting through evidence on a Maserati SUV break-in, looking for something that might lead to the thief, but the burglar must’ve worn gloves. No prints. She wished she was working Homicide with the handsome lead detective, Clint Reynolds. He’d been called to an apparent murder/suicide at the northern end of the island. The bodies of a wealthy elderly couple had been discovered by their maid.
Time dragged by, and her shift finally ended. She checked her watch. It was almost time to meet her aunt, uncle, and Jett for cocktails and dinner at the Seafood Bar in The Breakers Hotel, one of her favorite restaurants in Palm Beach. She was excited to see her closest relatives, especially since she hadn’t seen them since her quick visit to England last summer. Her aunt was her late mother’s older sister. She and Gwen’s uncle tried to fill the role of parents after her parents were killed.
She grabbed her clothes bag and changed in the ladies’ room. A floor-length mirror showcased her black stilettos and sleeveless black cocktail dress. She released her hair, gave it a quick brush, and strolled to her car. It was a short drive from the police station to the hotel.
Her cell chirped as the valet jumped into her car under the portico at The Breakers. It was Chief Malone calling. She strolled around the car and stood to one side.
“Gwen, we’re short-handed. Go to the charity polo match on the golf course at The Breakers pronto. We’ve got a DB in a Rolls near the party tent. I’ll meet you there.”
Her boss was a gruff man of few words, but he had the respect of her coworkers.
“On my way,” she said as a valet drove away with her car. Good thing her weapon and shield were in her purse. She approached another valet and flashed her badge. “I need a ride to the polo match. Police emergency.” My first dead body as a detective.
A valet took her in a golf cart to the tailgating area across the street from the hotel’s long entrance drive. She spotted a pale-blue Rolls Royce Corniche with the top down parked under a shade tree. Yellow crime-scene tape separated the Rolls from the elaborate party tent that anchored the site. Aromas of grilled steaks and galloping horses wafted through the warm air as elite patrons dressed in casual designer silks and linens sipped champagne and watched the polo match.
An approaching siren overpowered thundering hooves, noisy revelers, and loudspeakers booming play-by-play calls.
A patrol officer guarding the scene checked out her cocktail dress and five-inch stilettos. “Hot date, huh, Gwen?”
She rolled her eyes and ducked under the tape. The handsome man sitting in the driver’s seat of the Rolls appeared to be sleeping. Around forty, he had a chiseled jaw, blond crew cut, and fit physique. He wore mirrored aviator sunglasses.
She asked the patrol officer, “Are you sure he’s dead? Maybe he drank too much.”
“One of his friends said he didn’t have a pulse and called it in.”
She thought about how embarrassing it would be if it turned out the man wasn’t dead. Better to verify it herself. She pulled on latex gloves she kept in her purse and pressed her fingers a little too firmly against his neck. His body fell like a rag doll over the center console, and his sunglasses slipped off, revealing dull blue eyes.
The police chief walked up, shaking his balding head. “Real smooth, Gwen. The M.E. is going to have your butt. Didn’t your fancy finishing school teach you not to touch dead bodies?”
Blushing, she pulled back her long red hair and focused on the body and the convertible’s interior. No signs of a struggle. No visible marks on the body. No obvious cause of death. Probably not murder, so no handsome Detective Clint Reynolds joining me later.
Rod thrust his hands on his hips. “I should’ve known this case is too high profile for a newbie. Denton Donley is a Palm Beacher with deep pockets. The press will be all over this.”
“Dent Donley? Isn’t he the creep who allegedly raped those young women?” She Googled him on her cell. Yep, he was that guy.
“Expensive lawyer got him off.” He stared at the body. “Guess too much high living did him in.” He appraised her outfit. “Nice dress.”
When the medical examiner arrived, Rod stepped aside.
The M.E. pulled on his gloves and opened the car door. He arched an eyebrow and asked the chief, “Is this how you found him?”
“Our new detective knocked him over.” Rod glared at Gwen. “According to the guy who called it in, Donley was found behind the wheel with his body slumped back against the seat. He assumed Donley was taking a nap. Eventually, he needed to pop the trunk to get to the champagne cooler. When he couldn’t wake him or feel a pulse, he called 9-1-1.”
The short, gray-haired man frowned at Gwen. “What were you thinking?” He turned back to the body. “Never mind. Probably natural causes anyway.” He pierced the body’s liver area with a device that resembled a meat thermometer. “Yep, died about two hours ago. Is he high profile?”
Rod said, “Big money. We’ll need an expedited autopsy.”
Several news vans raced up, vying to be fi
rst on the scene. An overeager young female reporter must’ve recognized the body in the Rolls. She reached over the yellow tape and aimed her microphone at Gwen’s face. “Isn’t that Denton Donley? What happened? Did one of his alleged victims get revenge?”
Rod gave Gwen a let’s-see-you-handle-this look, so she stepped forward. “Mr. Donley passed away in his car. An autopsy will determine the cause of death. Please step back so the medical examiner can remove the body. Thank you.”
Cameras flashed behind her as the M.E. zipped the body bag over Donley’s face. After he was wheeled away, she turned to the police chief. “Where’s the crime-scene truck? The Rolls should be swept for evidence.”
“Our team is working a murder/suicide on the north end. A county CSU will be here in a few minutes. Work the crowd. See what you can learn.”
She stepped away, called her aunt, and explained she’d be a little late.
After circulating through the crowd and asking questions for an hour, she hadn’t learned anything new. Her spike heels were covered with dirt and had made more divots than the horses. She was about to leave when she turned and bumped into Pierce.
“Hi, Gwen. You look great in that dress. Here for the polo match?”
“Actually, I was about to meet my relatives for drinks and dinner when I got called over here.” She smiled up at Pierce, who wore a cream linen suit. “Do you know Denton Donley?”
“I see him at all the charity events, but we’re not friends. Why?”
She turned and pointed. “He was found over there in his Rolls, dead.”
“Really? What happened?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know. That’s the M.E.’s problem. I have to run. See you around.”
Five minutes later, a golf cart took her down the stately drive lined with royal palms. The entry lane divided around a massive fountain near the front of the hotel. On the way, she reached down with a tissue and cleaned the dry dirt off her shoes. Under the portico, she straightened her dress and gave her hair a quick brush before breezing into the magnificent lobby.
