Rock Around the Corpse

by Lizbeth Lipperman

  “What? Why would she admit that to you now that he’s dead and she knows we’re looking for his killer?” Maddy asked. “She has to understand that puts her at the top of the suspect list.”

  This time the grin covered his face. “Here’s where it gets good.” He poured himself another lemonade and added a generous dollop of the tequila. After taking a long sip, he continued, “Apparently, she’s been doing a lot of digging on Kershaw, and when she found out he was coming here, she decided it would be a great place to check him out.”

  “That makes sense,” Lainey said. “Get to know your biological father from a distance. That way, if he’s a total ass, you can just walk away, and he’d be none the wiser.”

  “But there’s more,” Vince said, taking another drink before speaking. “It seems that Carlene discovered that other than his brother, a banker in Oklahoma City, Kershaw has no living heirs.”

  Maddy slapped her forehead. “Are you saying…? Does that mean…?”

  “Yep.” Vince’s face was now animated with excitement. “As his only child, our Miss Carlene Newman stands to inherit all of Brent Kershaw’s sizable estate—which tops over twenty-five million, according to her research.”

  “Great find, Vince,” Maddy said. “That definitely gives her a strong motive for wanting to see the man dead.” She patted Deena’s shoulder before turning back to the limo driver. “Did Carlene tell you anything else that might be useful?”

  “Only that she tried to talk to Kershaw yesterday before dinner and he brushed her off.”

  “Did she tell him she was his daughter?” Maddy asked, now giving Vince her undivided attention, along with the other sisters.

  “She never got the chance. Said he treated her like she was some kind of trailer trash—her words, not mine.”

  “Ouch! That must have hurt,” Deena said, feeling empathy for the woman without even knowing her.

  “I’m sure it did. She also said she had a hard time sleeping last night, and sometime in the middle of the night, she walked out to the gazebo. She wanted to clear her head and decide if she was going to tell him the truth or just blow him off as the jerk he was and get on with her life.”

  Maddy looked surprised. “She admitted that to you?”

  “Not only that, but she said she’d decided, ass or not, Kershaw needed to know he had a daughter. So, before she went back to her own room, she stood outside his room trying to get up the courage to confront him.”

  “Holy crap! Could she have been so outraged by his rejection that she killed him in cold blood?” Lainey shook her head. “That kind of pain can really motivate someone into trying to hurt the one who caused it.”

  “Maybe. All I know is that she’s hell-bent on walking away from here with every cent of Kershaw’s money.”

  Chapter Seven

  “So Miss Carlene Newman has just leap-frogged to the top of our most-likely-to-profit-from-Brent-Kershaw’s-death’ list,” Lainey said. “I definitely want to be with you when you interview her.”

  When Vince looked surprised, Maddy explained. “My sister has her own weekend talk show with first-hand experience doing interviews. She knows just what to say to get people to give up something they don’t want to.”

  The limo driver pondered that for a moment. “Then you should probably be in on all the interviews, not just Carlene’s. I’ve had experience in that area as well, but a little extra intimidation can’t hurt.” He downed his redneck margarita, then shook his head when Maddy offered him a refill. “No thanks. Since we have a limited amount of time to question the guests and virtually no resources like forensics or a medical examiner available, I’m anxious to get started. I’m afraid another drink might mellow me out, and I like to be on the edge when I’m questioning someone.

  Maddy narrowed her eyes. “Where exactly did you say you got your law enforcement experience, Vince?”

  Deena turned to face him, wondering if he’d admit to simply being a mall cop as Maddy suspected. He certainly acted like he knew his stuff, but she could tell by the look on her sister’s face that she was intrigued as well.

  “I didn’t say.”

  “Were you a cop?” Deena probed, letting her curiosity win the battle with her good manners.

  He held her intense gaze for a moment before responding. “Let’s just say I know my way around a police investigation and leave it at that.” Shifting his focus from Deena to Maddy once again, he said, “If it’s all right with you, I think we should start by hearing your sister’s version of what happened last night.”

  Maddy waited for Deena’s nod before she spoke. “Okay then. Now’s as good a time as any. Lainey, get ready to take notes.”

  “Where do you want me to sit?” Deena asked, hoping what she had to say might somehow convince the limo driver of her innocence. For some strange reason, that seemed important to her.

  “Right here, honey.” Maddy patted the end of the bed and waited until Deena sat down before she pulled up a chair and faced her. “For the record, it’s twelve-thirty in the afternoon on Saturday, October eighteenth, and we’re interviewing Deena Rodriguez.” She paused. “Make sure you write all that down, Lainey.”

  Lainey made a face at her sister. “I’m not a rookie, Maddy.” She waved her hand in the air. “Nor is this a grand jury inquiry. Quit wasting time and get on with it.”

  Maddy ignored her sister’s irritated tone and concentrated on Deena. “Tell us about last night.”

  Deena lowered her eyes, not wanting to admit how brazen she’d been with Brent in his room after a few drinks. And she sure as heck didn’t want Vince to know that she was so drunk she had no idea if they’d even had sex. But when he pulled his chair closer to Maddy’s, she took a deep breath and plunged ahead. This was too important to play games and hide anything. If the man ended up thinking she was promiscuous, then so be it.

  As the details of the previous night spilled from her mouth, she kept her eyes on Maddy, who prompted her each time she paused. When she got to the part about not remembering much after feeling dizzy and falling back onto the bed, Vince stopped her.

  “Do you think you were drugged?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” she replied quickly, wondering why she hadn’t thought of that before since it made perfect sense. That had to be the reason she couldn’t remember. But what about the dream and the stone clad monster? She definitely remembered that.

  “Do you have a headache now?” Vince asked. When she nodded, he continued. “One of the side effects of most tranquilizers is a headache the next—”

  “Or the headache could be the result of all the liquor she drank,” Kate interrupted. “If I remember correctly, Deena mentioned that Brent had a bottle of Scotch delivered to the room. Mixing hard liquor with all the champagne we consumed at dinner is a surefire recipe for one helluva hangover in the morning.”

  Maddy ignored her and focused on Deena. “Who delivered the Scotch?”

  Deena thought for a minute. “It was India, the girl who waited on us at dinner last night. I remember because Brent handed her a fifty-dollar bill when he asked her to bring the bottle to his room, and then he gave her another fifty when she delivered it.”

  “Dammit! I wish we could have what’s left of the Scotch analyzed.” Maddy stared off into space. “Now that I think about it, I don’t remember ever seeing a bottle of Scotch in Kershaw’s room.” She barked out an order to Lainey. “Make a note of that. We need to check it out.”

  “Why is that important?” Deena asked. “I can tell you with certainty that I had a glass of Scotch after we got back to Brent’s room—two, in fact.” She snuck a sideways glance in Vince’s direction to see if he was showing disapproval, but he appeared deep in thought.

  “Because.” Vince leaned forward. “If the drug was in the Scotch, the killer probably removed the evidence after he killed Kershaw.” He turned to Maddy. “I’ll make sure when the lab guys get here that they test the empty glassware on the dresser for remn
ants of a drug.” He stood. “Let’s have our first talk with the waitress who delivered the bottle to the room. Seems like she’s the last one with access to the Scotch.”

  Deena felt a sense of encouragement for the first time as she watched her sister’s face light up. She could only hope this would lead them to another more viable suspect other than herself.

  “Tell Vince about the dream,” Maddy encouraged.

  Deena took a deep breath, knowing how this was going to sound. First, she’d admitted to going back to the room with a man she’d just met for the sole purpose of having sex, and now she was about to tell the ridiculous story of the stone clad monster. “It was just a dream, Maddy.”

  “I know, but it might be important, and Vince needs to know.”

  Deena said a quick prayer for courage then recounted how the monster had come into Brent’s room in a kaleidoscope of colors and lights and called her by name. There was an awkward silence when she finished, and she fully expected the limo driver to laugh or make her feel stupid. Instead, he moved his chair closer to the edge of the bed and sat down.

  “We can’t know anything for sure without a toxicology test, but what you’re describing could be the hallucinogenic result of several different sedatives. Most are powerful street drugs, and in some cases, the kids actually use them for psychedelic trips.”

  “Could be LSD, PCP, or mushrooms. Maybe even ketamine,” Kate shouted, visibly excited. When they all looked her way, she bobbed her head up and down. “Do you remember that cop from El Paso who died in his hotel room last year?”

  “Oh, hell yes! How could I forget? Colt lectured me for three solid weeks about how dangerous it was for you and me to break into his hotel room when he was high. Said the man could have resented that we’d crashed his party and gotten violent.” Lainey shook her head. “What was that?”

  “Ketamine. The killer put it into his drink, and mixed with the alcohol, it did the trick. We’ll never know if he was on a true LSD-like trip or not since he was dead by the time we found him, but knowing what I do about ketamine’s sedative effects, my money says yes.” Kate came over and sat down next to Deena.

  “I forgot you were a doctor,” Vince said. “Okay, give us a rundown of what ketamine is, how it’s used, and the symptoms associated with it.”

  Kate thought for a minute. “After we found the dead guy in the room, I did a lot of research on the drug. It’s used mainly as an anesthetic in both human and veterinary surgeries, and the effect can take place in as little as two to ten minutes after ingestion, depending on the route. Swallowed ketamine would take longer, of course, especially if the stomach is full of alcohol.”

  “I don't think any of the other guests are doctors, nor do I remember anyone saying they were veterinarians,” Maddy said. “There would have been no reason for anyone to have it here legally.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Kate didn’t wait for her sister’s response and continued, “You can pick up a vial of the stuff on the street for twenty bucks.”

  “Are you serious? And you think that could have been in the bottle of Scotch?” Deena felt a wave of anger crawl up her spine. She hated drugs—hated what they did to people. To think that someone had deliberately dosed her made her furious. And knowing what a sleazeball Brent had been, it was possible he had slipped her a sedative like ketamine or even a ruffie to make sure she didn’t chicken out.

  “More than likely,” Kate said. “Some people report feeling like they’re having an out-of-body experience like you described. The effects can last for up to two to three hours.”

  “I did feel like I wasn’t in control of my body,” Deena said, suddenly remembering the sensations. “When the monster stepped close to me, I felt a little pain in my arm, and that’s the last thing I remember.”

  Both Maddy and Kate jumped up. “Which arm?”

  Deena pointed to her right side before she shoved the sleeve of her t-shirt up to expose her upper arm. She gasped when she saw the tiny bruise. “Could that be…?”

  “It’s a needle prick,” Kate said. “The SOB not only slipped something into your drink, but he made sure you didn’t wake up while he jammed your scissors into Brent’s chest.”

  Deena teared up. “So this proves I didn’t kill Brent?”

  Maddy patted her on the back. “Unfortunately, no, sweetie. Although it does add credibility to your story, the cops will try to make you believe that while you were drugged, you were the one who did him in.” Her brows slid into a deep V. “Did you bring those scissors with you this weekend?”

  Deena shook her head. “I packed the spares in case there were any last minute fixes to be made. I haven’t been able to find my good pair in over a week.”

  “And that was the good pair sticking out of Kershaw’s chest?” Vince asked after a long period of just listening.

  She nodded. “I assumed they’d gone out in the trash with the remnants from the new curtains.”

  “Do you remember who was here the day they went missing?” he questioned.

  She thought for a minute. “Most of the contractors were already gone by last week. The only people here with me were Haley and Gary Wharton.”

  “Back to him again,” Lainey said, scribbling on the notebook in front of her. “I’m moving him up to the number one spot on our suspect list ahead of Carlene Newman again. I can’t wait to get him in a room by himself.”

  *****

  Vince Hogan sat quietly while the sisters all talked at once about how they would go about questioning the people at the spa. As he studied them, he’d already figured out that no matter how much they argued, every one of them would do whatever was necessary for the one sibling in trouble.

  Deena Rodriguez. Now that one was a puzzle, and since he’d been trained to make instantaneous assessments, he wondered why she was so hard to figure. Standing at about five-seven with an average build, the second oldest of the Garcia sisters had dark eyes accenting the jet black hair that fell to her shoulders in an attractive style. If he walked past her in a grocery store, he might take a second look, but there was really nothing about her that made her stand out in a crowd.

  He’d pegged her to be in her mid-thirties with a husband and three kids back home. So he’d been surprised when Haley had mentioned earlier that Deena was a widow with no kids. He was sure there was a story in there somewhere, but he wasn’t about to pursue the issue. He’d been doing just fine these past few years without getting too close to anyone, and that’s the way he wanted to keep it. Knowing someone’s personal history was a definite no-no for him—especially someone like Deena Rodriguez.

  Yes, he was occasionally lonely, and yes, at times he yearned for someone to be there when he got home from a particularly long day—someone to curl up with on a Friday night with a Meat Lovers pizza, a six pack of Shiner Bock, and an old John Wayne movie. But he’d decided a long time ago that a life like that was no longer available to him. That was something only other men enjoyed. The one big mistake he’d made years ago had cost him everything. He remembered the dark tunnel he’d found himself in during that time—remembered the depth of his despair as he’d crouched on the edge of the Miami shoreline, his .45 cocked and pressed against his temple.

  Only Catherine’s face flashing across his mind and the image of what had happened that terrible night had stopped him from pulling the trigger.

  He’d sat on that beach for nearly twenty-four hours holding the gun before he was able to pick himself up and drive the two hours back to his house. But he’d only stayed long enough to pack a bag and head to a motel. He hadn’t been back since. Even after the yellow crime scene tape had been removed, he wasn’t able to make himself return to the house. Thank God for friends who had packed up the contents and gotten it ready to sell.

  After months of counseling, he left his job, moved back home to Oklahoma City, and worked as a limo driver for his uncle. It was a mindless job that required very little of him—where he didn’t have to carry on a conversat
ion with anyone or do anything that required social skills. His only job was to keep his eyes trained on the road. That was four years ago.

  Last year when his uncle had his stroke, he’d offered the business to Vince. At first, he’d turned it down, enjoying the way his life was going with no responsibilities, no social life. He’d been living pretty much like a hermit and loved it. But his aunt had begged him—said it would kill her husband if the business fell into the hands of a total stranger.

  So Vince had bought him out, and to his surprise, not only had he warmed up to the idea of running the business, but as it turned out, he was pretty good at it. In a year’s time, he’d added four new limos and, thanks to a good reputation, was now one of the most requested limo services in the city.

  He’d jumped at the chance to transport the investors to the spa, especially since Haley Rockford had not even flinched when he’d quoted her a price. He didn’t even mind that she’d wanted him to spend the entire weekend there in case one of the guests had an emergency and needed to get back to the city in a hurry. He had no contracts pressing and figured he could catch up on all the things he’d been neglecting since his business had taken off—namely, reading. He’d always been a big fan of crime novels and had filled his e-reader with his favorite authors before leaving Oklahoma City.

  But fate has a way of laughing at man’s best made plans, he thought, as he nodded at something the oldest Garcia sister said. Not in his wildest dreams would he have ever imagined that he’d be doing the one thing he swore he’d never do again—the one thing he blamed for all the pain in his life.

  Yet, here he was. And right now, he was staring intently at Deena Rodriguez, still trying to figure out what her game was. She was either totally innocent as she claimed, or she was one helluva good liar.