“I’m sorry, Melanie, but I did see your mother and Felix.” Charles’ nose quit bleeding. “I made every effort to spare you from hearing about it.”
“Oh, Uncle Charles! How wrong you and Carolyne have been about mother and Felix!” If Felix had decided none of this was anyone’s business, Melanie disagreed with him in thinking, at this point, that Carolyne and Charles couldn’t be trusted with the truth. In fact, keeping it from them had resulted in this mix-up. Although, Felix probably didn’t even know she knew the truth, in that her parents certainly never gave any indication they knew she’d periodically eavesdropped on their private conversations.
“If you tell me to rely upon Felix to fill me in, when you know something, I’ll scream,” Carolyne threatened.
“That probably would be best,” Melanie hated to admit. “Relying upon Felix, I mean.”
“Did Felix’s beating up on your Uncle Charles appear to you as if he’s ready to discuss any of this?” Charles didn’t think so.
Carolyne didn’t think so, either. “Why don’t we proceed to next best?”
In case Melanie missed the point, Charles spelled it out for her: “Melanie, tell us.”
In for a penny, in for a pound: “My father knew about Felix and mother meeting every Tuesday at that hotel,” Melanie told them.
“Seaman’s Roost?” Charles wanted to make sure they talked about the same thing.
“Yes,” Melanie confirmed.
“I can’t believe he knew and didn’t do anything about it.” Carolyne may not have known Cornelius all that well, in the end, but she knew him well enough to know some things.
“There was nothing romantic about the meetings,” Melanie proceeded.
“What do you imagine they were doing there?” Carolyne insisted Melanie be realistic, painful as that was.
Charles responded to Melanie’s pause, “Well?”
“The hotel manager was Burt Evans, Denise Tenner’s lover.”
Carolyne didn’t see how that explained anything. Who were Burt and Denise anyway?
“Denise Tenner was Felix’s sister,” Melanie supplemented.
“I didn’t know Felix had a sister.” Charles didn’t see where any of this went, either.
“Did you know he had a mother and father?”
Carolyne recognized sarcasm when she heard it. “Melanie, please!”
“Burt and Denise both had AIDS.”
“AIDS?” Charles remained frustrated. “Whatever does AIDS have to do with this?”
“RZ11-2.”
This was another case of spoon-feeding, and Carolyne was having none of it. “Do, please, give us connections, so we can stop pulling teeth.”
“RZ11-2 was an experimental drug at Crystin Companies that showed initial success against AIDS in monkeys; everyone thought it might prove the major breakthrough in providing the cure.”
Carolyne racked her brain but had left Crystin Companies for JanEx by that time.
“It wasn’t ready for human testing, but Felix knew about it and was desperate over his sister’s deteriorating condition. He begged mother to make RZ11-2 available to Burt and Denise. She talked it over with father, and they verified everything Felix told them about the failure of all the then available drugs to do men or women much good. Mom had access to RZ11-2, and she managed to smuggle out weekly dosages. After mom died, dad continued until it proved, three years before Crystin Companies’ official confirmation that the drug had proved no significant dent in combating the virus in humans.”
“Dear God!” Charles felt like an old fool.
Carolyne was furious. “Why didn’t Felix just say so?”
To Melanie, the possibilities were obvious. “He couldn’t know how either of you would react to the illegality of what was done.”
Carolyne didn’t buy it. “I refuse to believe I come across, even to Felix, as that inconsiderate or uncaring.”
“He still sees you as the spurned woman, and Uncle Charles as the overlooked brother. If what had been done had ever gotten out, or if it ever got out even now, there could be legal repercussions—for the company, for my parents’ good names, for Felix as an accomplice. An investigation won’t take good intentions, or humanitarian motivation, as valid reasons for violating FDA rules and regulations.”
How much of this had Felix had to tell Rodrigo Barco to offset what Carolyne had passed on? No wonder Felix was furious with her and Charles.
“If not to cover his murder of Gordon, why would he steal the photos and replace them with blanks?” Carolyne was interested in Melanie’s rationalization of Melanie’s accusations of that.
“I didn’t say he didn’t kill Gordon and steal the photos; he probably did if his twisted logic blames my parents for the failure of RZ11-2 in the death of his sister. I’m just saying your theory of motivation doesn’t include his sleeping with my mother.”
Kyle rapped on the door. “Shall I hold supper?”
Carolyne let him inside. “I imagine you’re apprised of this evening’s little drama.” His silence coaxed more. “Also, I assume Rodrigo Barco keeps you enough up to date so you know why the scenario occurred.”
“Rodrigo and I go back a long way.” His answer was appropriately vague.
“I’ve filled in Carolyne and Charles on my idea as to Felix’s outburst,” Melanie said. If that wasn’t specific enough, “I overheard my parents discuss my mother’s weekly meetings with Felix.”
“Rodrigo suggested to Felix that he might be more candid with some of you, but.…” Kyle shrugged.
“Somewhat of a mess.” How else could Carolyne see it?
“Rodrigo has a cousin with AIDS. It’s made him particularly sensitive, and he can be counted upon to have been exceptionally discreet in whatever his inquiries to validate Felix’s story,” Kyle assured.
“I hope so.” Carolyne saw a domino effect that could involve the U.S. Federal Food and Drug Administration.
“I’ve sent someone to make sure Felix’s inebriation doesn’t get him into more mischief,” Kyle said. “By the way, Richard has regained consciousness.”
“Marvelous!” Melanie expressed the all-around consensus on both points.
“Any news of Susan Delaney?” Carolyne went three for three.
“If she’s in the city, Rodrigo or Jean-Michael will find her.”
Carolyne wasn’t hungry, but her appetite improved when supper provided a convenient diversion. If Teddy, Roy, Galin, and the two cameramen, Hal and Jacob, were excluded from a piece of the puzzle, they didn’t press for inclusion. If there was no sign of Alexandra, no one asked about her, either—nor was her whereabouts volunteered.
“Really delicious!” Initially, Carolyne had found feijoada, Brazil’s national dish of bubbling black beans, pork, and sausage, a bit intimidating.
“Have you tasted the delicious vatapá?” Melanie poked her spoon at a dollop of the shrimp stew that was flavored with coconut and palm oil.
Galin was so much taken by the batidas, potent drinks of homemade whiskey and fruit juice, that Carolyne was amazed how unaffected he seemed by his overindulgence when he joined her at breakfast the next morning. Ah, youth!
She ate bacon and eggs and wondered, late out of bed again, where everyone was.
“Rodrigo Barco has requested our presence.” Galin’s voice was even more raspy than usual. “It seems his men picked up this statuesque American woman, named Susan Delaney; our second and third opinions wanted.”
Carolyne pushed her fork to one side.
“Said, ‘Finish your breakfasts, first, though.’” Galin stole the last of her bacon. “Are we finished?”
Carolyne couldn’t stand people who, uninvited, scavenged other people’s food; Galin, though, somehow remained charming. Even the way he chewed was winning. Carolyne was more determined to see one of his videos. If he was naughty-boy appealing to her, he must send prepubescent teens into cardiac arrest. She drank the last of her freshly squeezed orange juice.
“Sh
all we proceed, immediately, to our civic duties, or detour long enough to let Richard thank you humbly for saving his ass?” Galin asked.
“You think he’s up to humble?” He hadn’t acted humble at the time.
“He might not tell you, but he told me, this very morning, that he’s convinced he’d be far worse today if you hadn’t stopped with a helping hand. Are you of a mind to take advantage? Any aspirations for a career in rock and roll?”
She wasn’t convinced Richard had a gracious bone in his body.
That went to show that a book couldn’t always be judged by its cover, or by a superficial skimming of its pages. “I’ll send flowers once you’re off somewhere where you can’t pick your own bouquet during three minutes of leaning over any balustrade,” he said, propped up in bed, his head in a bandage as skillfully wrapped as any Elton John turban. “You scheduled for any future plant forages into Antarctica?”
She had a retort that referenced his thank god inability to torch an ice field, but she refused to come across less gracious than he did. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“I promised Carolyne free tickets and backstage passes to my next concert.” Galin stole the last of the bacon off Richard’s infirmary tray with the same aplomb he’d exercised in robbing Carolyne of hers.
Carolyne would decide, after hearing an example of Galin’s singing, whether his offer was reward or punishment.
“Shall I tell you that Carolyne and I are, this very minute, off to see Susan Delaney?” Galin said.
“They know about Susan?” Richard sounded surprised.
“Don’t they tell you invalids anything? Carolyne spotted you two on Manaus streets yesterday.”
“I was in the Amazonas when you were on your way out.” Carolyne didn’t add how she’d immediately given chase, then and there.
“So, thanks to Carolyne, we would have caught the she-vixen even if Susan had succeeded in successfully accomplishing her mischief in draining your brake fluid.” Galin heaped praise. “And, I would have learned, eventually, why you, once again, missed a shoot.”
“I had every intention to be back in time for the shoot,” Richard assured.
“Hal, Jacob, and I improvised, but I doubt it’ll meet your standards. So, hurry and get well, because burn-spots turn green pretty fast in this fecund environment, and it would be ungracious to set fire to more jungle when your savior is so dead set against it.”
Richard was prepared to squeeze more acres out of Kyle, if it came down to that. However, he said, “The doctor says I should be up in no time.”
“Until then, we must be off to turn the key on Susan’s jail lock.” Galin pantomimed the incarcerating turnkey and provided a voice-over, “Clink!”
“You said she’s the one who drained my brake fluid?” Richard held them awhile longer.
“You team up with the most interesting people,” Galin said. “All the women I know wouldn’t likely know a drip pan from a bed pan.”
“Confidentially, I’m surprised Susan knows the difference,” Richard marveled.
“She only needed money to hire someone who knew the difference,” Carolyne reminded. “Like Jane who wouldn’t have had to set foot outside her villa to have had her husband and/or Gordon snuffed.”
“Ah, the deductive reasoning of the scientific mind!” Galin congratulated. “Carolyne is right. A few dollars here, a few dollars there, and good-bye, Dicky and/or Gordon!”
“Isn’t, ‘I won’t call my director Dick,’ somewhere in our contract?”
“I think Carolyne and I must shove off now, Richard. Do your best to get well in our absence.” He took Carolyne’s arm and headed for the door.
“Mrs. Santire!” Richard brought them to a stop.
“So formal, Richard?” Galin chastised. “Surely, ‘Carolyne’ is more apropos for the woman who saved your life.”
Richard ignored him. “I don’t forget a favor, Mrs. Santire. I owe you.”
For whatever the reason, Carolyne didn’t find his promise enticing. “You owe me nothing, Mr. Callahan. I would have done the same for anybody.”
“Richard, though, isn’t just ‘anybody’, are you Richard?” Galin’s smile was charming; his tone was not. “He’s very, very special. Just ask him.”
Carolyne waited until they were outside and almost to the Jeep which Galin had requisitioned from the motor pool. “Do you like Richard Callahan, Galin?”
“God, no, Carolyne! What’s to like about a short, ugly, egotistical prima donna? I do happen to think he’s one of the best video directors in the business. Garret Tilbee and Dillon Crane might be a shade better, but who’s to know?”
They were driving off when Melanie and Teddy spotted them, and Melanie waved.
“Is that a happy couple, or what?” Galin’s query dripped sarcasm. “Engaged, while at the same time her eyelashes bat like butterflies in heat, and her look is more come on than that of any I’ve had from a hot-pants groupie.”
The subject wasn’t one with which Carolyne was comfortable. “If I understood mating rituals, I’d be in anthropology, not bio-sci.”
“You’re not going to tell me to be careful? Charles did. Roy did.”
“Why should I be redundant, then? Although, you should probably be careful.”
“She flirted with Gordon Wentlock, didn’t she? Suddenly, old Gordon hit the dirt.”
“I’ve yet to hear anyone prove even a tenuous connection. Not that it hasn’t been tried, either.”
“Fascinating: one man drops dead in the middle of nowhere, and everyone for miles around has a motive for murder.”
Carolyne gave him that much. “Yes, fascinating, indeed.”
“Richard: Gordon stole his girl. Susan: Gordon used her and threw her aside. Kyle: Gordon got his sister pregnant. Alexandra: Gordon left the incriminating bun in her oven. Roy: Gordon competed for his woman and for his minerals. Jane: Gordon made unwanted advances.…”
His litany told the extent of conjecture rampant in conversations other than those in which Carolyne had personally participated. “How do you know Gordon made advances toward Jane Leider?”
“The walls have ears. Servants have ears. Servants have mouths. Mouths chatter. Other people’s ears hear. Other people’s mouths talk. Ad infinitum. Ad nauseam. Come on, Carolyne, of the can I see you for a few minutes in private, do you think you’re the only lodestone who attracts information? Hell, any of us would have to live in a vacuum not to get bombarded by the constant gossip, innuendo, back-biting, and whispers, about you, the spurned woman who doesn’t want the expedition to succeed and give Cornelius Ditherson more glory; about Charles, the jealous brother who equally begrudges Cornelius additional limelight; about Felix.… I’m still working on Felix, convinced it has something to do with the mystery woman, Margaret Ditherson. You wouldn’t enlighten me on that point, would you?”
“Margaret isn’t any longer suspected to be in anyway directly connected to Gordon’s murder.” Of that, Carolyne was convinced. Indirectly was another matter.
“Okay, be that way.” His sensuously sexy, full lips did a very effective pout. “But don’t think everyone else will be as discreet…about Felix; or about Teddy who figured Gordon was out to snatch moneybags Melanie…or about Melanie who teased Gordon without realizing the consequences. The list goes on. Even common servants, here at the ranch, are past samplers of Gordon’s promiscuity which knew no social or economic bounds.”
Galin’s good looks and winning smile had worked overtime. “Now, if I were one of those gets as gives people, I’d insist you come clean about Felix, but I don’t play the game nearly as seriously as I suspect you do. So, I’ll give you another free tidbit, although stop me if you’ve heard it.”
His pause was so extended that she thought he’d changed his mind. His smile, attractive and infuriating, invited her to beg—just a little.
“So?” That was the extent of her intended supplication.
“So, all of this crap about Alexandra want
ing Gordon’s baby is just that—crap. I hear she was on the abortionist’s table when her obviously more Catholic brother broke down the door. Seems the little lady discovered Gordon was a philandering son of a bitch, and she didn’t want any long-living mementos. Another repercussion: at least one unsuccessful attempt to throw herself down the stairs. When she fainted, upon hearing the bastard was dead, it was from pure joy. When she raves how she wants free of her brother, it’s because he’s determined to make her suffer the consequences.”
He pushed the accelerator to the floorboard and headed the Jeep up the Tlesselan Grade. Where Richard had gone off the road seemed already reclaimed by jungle. Given respite from the ravages of man, Mother Nature could have the whole area reclaimed in a few million years.
“Where’s Alexandra now?” Carolyne wondered.
“At her place, about six miles to the south. Under house arrest; guards and a nurse on twenty-four hour duty; a helicopter on the ready to fetch Dr. Seln at any sign of delivery or difficulty.”
“Anything else you’d like to tell me?” He was a prime information source, and she was greedy for more.
“How can I know, if I don’t know what you know, in order to glean the difference?”
“Did you have reason to kill Gordon? Remember that the least likely is usually the guiltiest.”
“How about my having committed the murder just as a mental and physical exercise? The Leopold-Loeb Syndrome, murder for the pure sake of murder, might fascinate me.”
Carolyne chilled. “I expected something about revenge for Gordon screwing up the shoot on your Amaz’n Galin videos.”
“Of course you did, but I figure a Yale psych major should provide something more imaginative.”
“You majored in psychology—at Yale?”
“Surprised?” He’d played her; the handsome bastard.
“You tell me.”
“Okay. You’re surprised. I’m not surprised you’re surprised. Rock stars aren’t supposed to have grade points enough for Yale, and who’d chuck that for rock-and-roll stardom? Right? I did, not all that fond of being stuck in an educational display case, pinned on corkboard, and nailed with a this is it white-bread label.”
Amaz'n Murder Page 14
