To Andrea's relief, the inspector's face softened, and he said, "I believe you, Mrs. Porter. It matches a pattern. So that leaves the issue of your handbag. Could Mr. Cavallaro have had access to it while you were sleeping?"
"My handbag?" Andrea looked at the inspector, baffled.
"It's important. Could Cavallaro have had access to it?"
"Well... I suppose he could have," Andrea said, remembering that her handbag had not been where she'd left it before she fell asleep. She distinctly remembered hanging it on the back of the chair when she arrived, but when she woke up, it was on the seat of the chair. "What would Mr. Cavallaro want with my handbag?" she asked. "I only carry traveler's checks and cosmetics and the usual things women carry."
Inspector Schribe stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger, and said, "We'll get to that in a minute. I have a few more questions about your husband."
Andrea glanced at her father and caught the look of awareness on his face, and in his eyes. She could almost see the wheels turning. He was hoping Jerry would be hauled in for something, anything to get him out of her life for good. "What about my husband?"
"The woman whose stateroom you're sharing on the ship, Valerie Williamson. She's been spending time with your husband. Do you have any reason to believe Miss Williamson is involved with Mr. Cavallaro?"
At first Andrea was at a complete loss for words. All she could think of was the storm that was brewing inside her parents—first, her staying the night with some Italian named Alessandro Cavallaro, then, a woman named Valerie Williamson getting it on with Jerry... All the dirty laundry from the cruise hanging out to dry in front of Mr. and Mrs. Carter Ellison III. Every sickening sordid, humiliating piece of filthy laundry their daughter and that bastard she'd married had left piled in a heap on the cruise ship.
But on the beach with Jerry, with the warm waves washing over their naked bodies, and the soft pearly sand beneath them, and the hot Bahamian sun beating down on them while they relieved the sexual tension that had been building for months... for that brief moment in time she'd thought all the dirty laundry had been washed clean and she and Jerry might have a chance to make a new start. But that had been an anomaly.
Their fiery, explosive coming together had been brought on by sun and surf and the sudden awakening of a dormant sexual need she thought she'd lost. She hadn't wanted Jerry since Scott died. But it all came back on the beach: how she'd once craved him, what he did to raise her physical senses to a need so potent she had to have him, beyond all reason. Just as she had to have him when she left college and ran off and married him.
But the sexual part of their relationship... that, she could never explain to her father. How could she tell Carter Ellison III that his son-in-law turned his daughter into a brazen, lustful, hussy who had no inhibitions when aroused by her husband. That she'd do anything to keep him doing all the zany, outrageous things he did that left her clutching her sides with laughter, and breathless with passion, and afterwards, feeling completely satisfied... Yet, never quite satisfied, because when it was over, she wanted Jerry all the more.
Nor could her mother understand. Especially her mother. Andrea looked at her then, perched on the edge of the sofa, back stiff, hands folded in her lap, face a mask of contradictions. Anger showed in the way her nostrils flared. Incredulity from her tightly pressed lips. Disillusionment from the hurt in her eyes. If Andrea had announced that she and Jerry were getting a divorce, her mother would have accepted it, bearing in mind the visits home Andrea had been making of late. But never would her mother have considered the reality of what she was witnessing now, of learning that her beloved only child, and the man she ran off to marry against both her parents wills, were swingers! At least that was the perception.
Her father, on the other hand, understood perfectly. The bastard who lured his daughter away from a family who loved her, and a father who could provide all the comforts she could possibly want in life, was dragging her down into the same sewer he grew up in...
"Mrs. Porter?" the inspector's voice seemed far away. "Do you have any reason to believe Miss Williamson is involved with Mr. Cavallaro?"
"Inspector," Andrea said, with irritation, "I have no idea where this is leading, but no, I have no reason to believe Miss Williamson is involved with Mr. Cavallaro. According to her, she had sex with him once, a long time ago, but that was all."
"But since you and your husband appear to have an open marriage, you must be aware that Miss Williamson went to your husband's stateroom on several occasions?"
"What my husband does when we aren't together is his business," Andrea said, wondering how she could possibly explain that to her parents. "If you have questions about him you'll have to ask him directly. I have nothing more to offer. Mr. Cavallaro and I had cocktails on two occasions and dined together on another. There's nothing more to it."
"Very well," the inspector said. Andrea was certain the man would leave then, but instead, he said, "When did you first start feeling ill?"
She had not expected that question. It seemed irrelevant. "Why do you ask?"
"We have reason to believe you were poisoned," the inspector said. "Nothing life-threatening, just enough to send you to the medical clinic. There have been other incidents similar to yours, other woman who spent time with Alessandro Cavallaro and became ill after dining with him while the ship was in port. The report from the lab will disclose any poison. You can thank your husband for insisting blood be drawn."
"Then... you actually think Alessandro poisoned me?" she asked, still shocked that Alessandro was being tracked by government agents.
"We're almost certain he did," the inspector said. "Although we don't have enough evidence to arrest him, we know that Cavallaro is the king pin in a major drug cartel that's responsible for laundering millions of dollars in criminal proceeds."
Andrea looked at the man, stunned. "But he seemed so sincere, so charm—" she stopped short, feeling like the fool Jerry pegged her to be.
"Charming?" the inspector completed her sentence. "He is. Men like Alessandro Cavallaro are masters at what they do. But we're closing in on him. We have attachés and agents in Rome who are helping to identify and track down this criminal enterprise in Italy. They've arrested several cell heads and significantly disrupted the infrastructure. Those indicted have been charged with crimes that include murder, racketeering, conspiracy to kidnap, conspiracy to kill, drug trafficking, and money laundering. In the case of Alessandro Cavallaro, he takes the ill-gotten gains and uses it to buy rare stamps from corrupt dealers. The stamps are then sold in other countries to corrupt dealers, who sell them to collectors who don't ask questions. Money from illegal operations is moved around the world undetected this way, with rare stamps as receipts. Your involvement with Cavallaro might be what finally brings him down. If the blood tests from the clinic show poison in your system, all we'll need is the stamp, and we've got him."
"I don't understand," Andrea said. "It seems like anyone could have put something in my drink or food last night."
The inspector looked at her with a kind of tolerant understanding, and said, "What happened to you is a pattern with Cavallaro. He looks for women who appear to be traveling alone, charms them into believing he's interested in them, invites them for cocktails in his stateroom, then drugs them so they fall asleep long enough for him to hide a rare and valuable stamp in the lining of the woman's handbag. The next night he escorts the woman to a pre-arranged meeting place where he laces her cocktail with a non-lethal poison then makes an excuse to leave. By the time the woman has recovered from what appears to be food poisoning, her handbag's missing, along with the stamp—taken by a contact who the woman believes was a purse snatcher. The woman files a report and the authorities give it little further thought because purse snatchers are rarely caught. But no one connects it with money laundering."
Andrea tried to digest all the information she'd just heard. Alessandro... the king pin in a drug cartel? The man who'd s
at across the table smiling at her and telling her he wanted to take her to a place for lovers? A place for dupes would be more appropriate! She just wished there was some way to keep Jerry from knowing what a fool she'd been to be taken in so completely by Alessandro Cavallaro. She looked at the inspector, who was waiting for her response, and said, "Since that's the case, you have to believe what I told you."
He nodded. "I did from the start. I just needed to confirm it."
"Then I'm not suspected of anything?"
"No," the inspector assured her, "only of being a foolish woman who got involved with a man she knew nothing about. Not a rare occurrence on a cruise ship."
Andrea couldn't argue that. She'd not only been completely duped, she'd seriously considered giving herself to a man who didn't even want her as a lover. A man who made her heart flutter a little. But even then, there had been no spark, no desire to go beyond a certain point. But Jerry smashed that point to smithereens on the beach, and she doubted if any man could bring out the wild, uninhibited side of her that Jerry did...
"One thing more before we go," the inspector said. "May we see the handbag you had with you last night?"
"Not without a search warrant!" her father barked.
"Mr. Ellison," the inspector said in a weary voice, "I assure you we do not suspect your daughter of being connected with Mr. Cavallaro in any way other than what was explained. But she could have a valuable stamp hidden in her purse and it would be the evidence we need to arrest Cavallaro. If we're not allowed to inspect the handbag we'll have no choice but to confiscate it and hold it until we do get a search warrant, and to list your daughter as a person of interest in connection with Mr. Cavallaro and continue to track her whereabouts."
"Inspector, I have nothing to hide," Andrea said. "If the stamp's in my handbag, I had nothing to do with it getting there." Before her father could stop her, Andrea grabbed her handbag and handed it to the inspector.
The inspector opened the bag, dumped the contents onto a table and inspected the lining. Eying an area near the zipper that closed the bag, he said, "Was this slit here before now?"
Andrea looked at the slit in the lining of the bag. "No," she said. "The bag is brand new. I bought it on the ship."
"Then the stamp has been removed." The inspector tucked his fingers through the slit and when he pulled his hand out, he looked at his fingertips. They were coated with a dusting of white powder. He touched it to his tongue, and said, "There was drug payoff along with the stamp. Whoever took the stamp took the packet of drugs, but there's enough residue left to use as evidence. There should also be Cavallaro's fingerprints all over the handbag from securing the stamp inside the lining. I'll send the handbag to our lab." He looked at Andrea's father, who shrugged and nodded.
The inspector turned to Andrea, and said, "Who else could have had access to your handbag yesterday or earlier today?"
Andrea shrugged. "I don't know. I left it at the table when I rushed into the restroom at the Pirate's Cove, but I don't remember much after that. It was at the medical clinic while I had my stomach pumped so I suppose any number of people could have gotten into it if they wanted to, including those working at the clinic. My husband knows more about it than I do."
"Then I'd like to talk to him," the inspector said. "We went to his bungalow looking for him, which was right after we came here looking for you. Maybe the two of you were together at the time."
"Well, actually we were," Andrea said, a flush rushing up her face. Boy were they together, rolling around in the surf, desperate to be yet closer together, more deeply connected, as together as a man and woman could conceivably be. The thought of that fevered male-female union sent adrenaline pumping through her, along with an almost irrational desire to be with Jerry and experience the overwhelming, uncontrollable passion just one more time before the divorce...
"Where can he be reached?" the inspector asked.
"Right here." Jerry stood in the doorway, his gaze moving over the faces in the room, eyes challenging as they settled on Andrea's father. He looked at the inspector. "I was told at the front desk you men were looking for me. What's the problem?"
The inspector filled Jerry in on what he'd told Andrea and her parents about Cavallaro then added, "You were following Mr. Cavallaro and your wife last night. Was there a reason?"
Jerry looked at the man, and said with irony, "Does a man need a reason to follow his wife when she's with another man?"
"In your case, yes," the inspector said. "You and your wife seemed to freely enjoy the company of the opposite sex, with each other's knowledge, which was why I asked."
"I was concerned for my wife," Jerry said. "I knew Cavallaro had ulterior motives for being with her when I found out he had a luxury yacht in the Mediterranean and was a regular on these cruises. Seems I was right." He gave Andrea a look of smug satisfaction.
Which made Andrea want to beat him with her fists instead of roll around naked with him on the beach. "How did you learn that?" she hissed. "From your sugar baby!?"
"No, I learned it by making a call to a contact in Majorca," Jerry said in a controlled voice, "I wanted to prove that your Italian stud was a gigolo before you got intimate with him—"
"I did not get intimate with him!" Andrea cried.
"You sure as hell were doing something between cocktails and the next morning!"
"If that's not the pot calling the kettle black," Andrea shouted, "with you getting it on with your sugar baby!"
"Umm... excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Porter," the inspector cut in. "If we can get back to the issue of the handbag,"
Andrea glanced at her father, who was glaring at Jerry, hatred on his face, and she wished she'd held her tongue for once in her life. This scene would be played out again and again, ad nauseam, until the divorce was final. But now her father had all the ammunition he needed to destroy Jerry in the process. She pursed her lips, determined to say nothing, no matter what Jerry revealed.
"Mr. Porter," the inspector continued, "we're trying to learn who had access to your wife's handbag last night. Cavallaro's contact never made it to the Pirate's Cove. We found his body in the trunk of a stolen rental car this morning, shot in the head at close range. Typical criminal-world assassination. So there's a hired gun out there who knows about the stamp, but most likely isn't part of the cartel. Our concern is, whoever it is believes your wife still has the stamp and will come after her."
Andrea's father stepped forward. "Then I'll take my daughter off the island right away," he said. "We'll leave at once."
"I'm afraid that's not an option," the inspector said. "Your daughter was the last person seen with Alessandro Cavallaro before he disappeared. We need her as a material witness."
"What do you mean Cavallaro disappeared?" Carter said. "I thought you were tracking him."
"He managed to elude us, with help. Alessandro Cavallaro knows whoever he needs to know, wherever he goes. In fact, we've known for some time he has a base of operations here on the island."
Jerry looked at the man in disbelief. "Then why don't you pick him up for questioning?" he asked, his tone carrying an edge of condescension, which didn't surprise Andrea. Jerry wasn't a man to stand by when a job needed to get done, and sending a few armed men into an unsophisticated base camp on a small tropical island to pick up one man wouldn't seem to terribly challenging to him.
"We've never been able to find the place," the inspector replied. "The interior of Andros Island is one of the largest unexplored tracts of land in the western hemisphere. It's dominated by hardwood forests with almost impenetrable bush and mangrove swamps."
"Why do you believe Cavallaro's still here?" Jerry asked. "Couldn't he have left on one of the fishing boats, maybe in disguise?"
"Not this time," the inspector said. "We've checked all fishing and pleasure vessels in the area and he never returned to the cruise ship. We were searching for him when we found the body of his contact, another reason we know he's here. The stamp didn't mak
e the transfer so he knows whoever hired the assassin to kill the contact is undermining the organization, and has to be stopped. Make no mistake, Alessandro Cavallaro is a very dangerous man. He'll stop at nothing to protect the interests of the cartel."
The inspector's gaze moved from one face to the next, then settling on Andrea, he said, "Until we learn where Cavallaro is, you should not go off alone or your life could be in danger. In a couple of days we should have all the information we need, and you and Mr. Porter will be free to leave the island. In the meantime, we need to learn who had access to your handbag so we can find the stamp."
"How much is the stamp worth?" Andrea asked, wondering just how much money, in the form of a stamp, she'd unknowingly been carrying around in her handbag.
"Several million dollars," the inspector said. "The stamp is believed to be a Treskilling Yellow. If genuine, it will be one of only two in existence, another reason someone would want the stamp, not for its value as a collectible, but to have the option of destroying it if he wants, in order to preserve the value of the only other one in existence." He turned to Jerry. "So it's vital we learn who had access to the handbag before you returned it to your wife."
"I told you all I know, inspector," Jerry said. "I got the handbag from the owner of the Pirate's Cove. When my wife was being carried out of the restroom, he had her handbag in his hands. I suggest you start with him."
"We will," the inspector assured Jerry. "We'll also be questioning everyone who was at the Pirate's Cove last night, along with the staff at the medical clinic. Any one of them could be involved. This is an extremely sophisticated operation with a wide net of contacts, all of whom are tight lipped because their cut of the action is so lucrative."
"Well, I've told you all I know," Jerry assured him.
"Then I suppose we're through for now." The inspector's eyes shifted between Andrea and Jerry, as he said, "If I have further questions, I'll get back to you. In the meantime, Mr. Porter, I suggest you make an effort to stay with your wife. We don't have the workforce on the island to give her one-on-one protection."
Never Too Late Page 11
