With a somewhat lighter heart, I left the hotel to collect my small valise from the trunk of the car. Returning to the
room, I yanked out my dance clothes with a determined air. I would center myself if it killed me. I threw the leotard on, abandoning the tights in the warm weather, all the while noting again the stunning view of the ocean in the distance and the tops of the palm trees in the gardens below.
I may be doggy doo tomorrow when I return home, but today I was in a plush hostelry on one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. Deal with it, Lee. So I dealt.
I tied the belt around my waist and stepped out barefoot onto the terrace. The stone flooring felt cool and welcoming to my hot feet. Detouring for a split second to the mini-bar next to the hot tub, I snatched a small bag of peanuts from the top shelf and ripped it open. Munching happily and feeling better, I padded over to the railing of the balcony and gave myself over to the panoramic feast before me.
Then wondering about the landscaping of the gardens below, I glanced downward. My reaction was so sharp, my startled movement so violent, peanuts went flying in every direction from the small, plastic bag.
For there she was, lying on her side, sunning herself on a chaise lounge.
Kelli.
Chapter Twenty-One
An MIA Sighting
I dropped to the floor, as flat as possible. Then I craned my neck up and over the lower rung of the railing, straining my eyeballs to get a view of the prone figure below. I was panting, just like a gerbil I met once whose wheel was her obsession. Kelli was my obsession, so I guess it was only fitting I’d pant the same way.
Just then, my phone started beeping its reminder. I had missed the first hour of the scheduled call to Richard, and there’s nothing like being yelled at by an irate, self-righteous baby brother to make you feel like an idiot. I wasn’t going to let it happen again.
I crab crawled backward across the terrace to the beeping phone inside the living room. Just as I reached for it, it rang.
Dang, I thought, Richard is becoming annoyingly like Mom, Frank, and Tío. What’s with everybody in the family, anyway? Checking up on me every three minutes. You’d think I didn’t have the sense God gave a lemon.
I looked at the incoming number. Lila! I might have known.
“She’s here,” I blurted out, not even saying hello. “She’s right below me in the garden asleep on a chaise lounge in the sun!” I tried to contain my excitement and the volume. It was tough.
There was a slight pause, as my mother digested this information. “You mean, Kelli, of course.”
“Well, duh! Not Amelia Earhart!” I was giddy in my victory. It was short-lived.
“There is no need to be sarcastic, Liana. It is not appreciated.”
“Sorry, Mom, but I mean…really, I…sorry.”
“Never mind, dear. You’re sure it’s her?”
I dropped down again and did my crab crawl across the terrace and back to the railing, speaking in a hoarse whisper the entire way. “Absolutely, even though she’s got a major tan and her hair is a different color. I know one of your friends changes her hair color the way I change handbags—”
Mom clucked in disapproval. “Marsha is never satisfied, poor thing.”
“Personality overview aside, all I know is, whatever Marsha’s color of the week is, it always looks pretty natural.”
“A good colorist is the key.”
We’d beaten that one to death, so I went on. “Kelli has hers dyed a dark brown, but the cut and curls are the same. And her skin tone is much darker—”
“Probably one of those self-tanning lotions.”
“That’s my thinking.” I strained my neck up again and looked down, taking everything in with more care. Kelli was still lying on the chaise lounge, on her side, arm stretched out under her head, exactly in the same position she’d been on my couch a short time ago.
“There’s no doubt about it, Lila. It’s her. Or is it, it’s she? I can never remember.”
“Liana, do nothing and call the police. Watch her from a distance but do nothing. Understand?”
The beauty of cellphones is, if you don’t like what someone is saying, you can pretend you can’t hear them, the reception went suddenly and inexorably kaplooey. It’s one of the supposed downsides to a modern convenience I embrace wholeheartedly.
“What’s that, Lila? You’re going in and out now. I can only hear every other word. Hello? Mom? Hello?” And so a sputtering and exasperated mother found herself
disconnected from a headstrong daughter. Wasn’t the first time.
Before I did anything, I backed up from the railing again. Out of Kelli’s probable sightline, I sat on my haunches and thought things over. One thing for sure, my chaffed knees and hands were going to need soothing lotion after this back and forth routine on the stone floor. Maybe a total body massage. Yummy.
I crawled forward again and looked down at Kelli, who was in such a sound sleep, she wasn’t even stirring. I set the phone on vibrate, tucked it into the belt of my wraparound leotard, and stood up. I took a chance and went inside for my sandals. Knotting a pareo around my waist to make the ensemble look more beachy and presentable, I threw on the floppy hat before running back out to the railing. I held part of the brim over my face, just in case, and peeked down. Kelli was still in the same position as before. Maybe she’d had a busy, long night spending all that money. Maybe she had a hangover. All good for me.
I tore out the door, loped down the stairs and through the side passageway leading guests to the street and the beach beyond. A perk for the ground floor rooms was their own private garden. Comprised of sand-loving tropical trees, bushes and flora, this well-tended garden had access to the sea while providing a certain amount of privacy from passersby. From the sidewalk, what you saw was a wall of greenery, with a small, centered wooden gate leading to each garden.
Behind the gate, small wrought iron tables, chairs, and lounges were placed both in and out of the sun, for the guests’ preference. Each of the six gardens was separated from the others by the same green bushy things, which created the illusion of privacy but in reality, provided handy-dandy
viewing if you leaned in and parted them a little. I love stuff like that.
A quick but stealthy zip around the street side of each garden showed me no one else was using theirs except for Kelli. While the beach across the street was crowded, hardly
anyone was using the sidewalk. It was lunchtime, and the sun was climbing to its hottest of the day, maybe the reason there was no one else around. Or maybe it was my lucky day. I have so few of those; it was hard to tell.
Returning to my original spot, I peered through the tall, green bushy thing, making sure Kelli was still lying on the chaise. Freeing myself from the lacy tendrils, I followed the sandy path back to the street. Then I hung a left. The sand was silent beneath my sandals as I entered Kelli’s garden and crept closer to my sleeping prey.
Kelli was wearing a neon pink bikini, modest by today’s standards. Her deep golden tan—manufactured, surely—set off the brightness of the fabric even more. She still lay on her side, eyes closed, fingers reaching out soft and delicate from the outstretched arm beneath her head. The cushioned, white and tan lounge chair was lowered to lie flat and looked about as comfortable as any bed I’ve seen.
A pair of hot pink, high-heeled leather thongs rested on one side of the lounge. On the other side and flat on the ground, lay a large cloth and leather beach bag in gorgeous shades of hot pink, orange, and yellow, so high end it screamed, ‘You have no idea how much I cost, so go ahead and try to buy me. I double-dog dare ya.’ A matching headband encircled a hot pink panama straw hat on the ground nearby, hot pink sunglasses thrown carelessly on part of its brim. We were into pink, I gathered.
Flickering sunlight from the breeze-stirred palm fronds created moving patterns of light and shade on her sleeping body. Between the cool, light wind from the ocean and the sounds of the surf, I think t
he savage breast could have been
soothed in just about anybody. Anybody except me. I was still hopping mad. Take my cats, indeed.
“Hello, Kelli,” I said, tossing the ruby and silver ring onto the ground near her. It landed with a clunk. “I brought you your ring.” My voice, even though I’d tried to keep it soft
in this peaceful paradise, sounded like an announcement coming from an overhead speaker at a carnival.
She didn’t move. At first, I wasn’t even sure she’d heard me. I saw a slight quivering of a muscle in her outstretched arm and then a fast movement toward the beach bag lying nearby.
But I was faster. One step forward, and my foot stomped on the clasp of the bag. Kelli froze, hand mid-air. I bent over, keeping an eye on the still woman, and picked up the bag.
“Looking for your sunscreen? I’ll get it for you.”
I opened the bag, noting its heaviness. Inside was an old World War II German Mauser. Just like the one Richard mentioned reading about online.
Pushing the well-oiled gun aside with a bit of Kleenex, I rooted around and found a small bottle of sunscreen. After I pulled it out, I threaded the large-handled bag over my arm, resting it firmly on my shoulder. I tossed the bottle on the ground where the bag had been.
“There you go.”
Kelli sat up slowly, reluctantly, almost like a little girl being caught playing hooky at the movies instead of being in school. She didn’t look up, just kept her head down, her body hunched over, arms interlocked, hands clasped together and placed on her closed knees.
“How did you find me?” Her voice sounded thin and small, almost contrite.
“You do a lovely version of ‘The Girl From Ipanema.’”
My voice, in contrast, had a triumphant edge to it I couldn’t keep out. Vindication, I was thinking. Maybe I am as smart as a fifth grader. Maybe I’m almost as smart as you, Kelli.
“I’m not going back,” she said. This time her voice had no contrition, only conviction.
“Oh, yes, you are. You’re going back, and I’m taking you.”
She looked up at me for the first time; her blue eyes vivid against the dark hair and deep tan.
“Fifty million dollars is a lot of money. I’ll split it with you. You can do a lot of things with twenty-five million dollars.” She studied me with frank openness.
“No thanks. I see what happens to your business partners. I’ll pass.”
She looked down at her bare feet and wiggled her toes. A small smile passed her lips.
“I thought you’d say that. I don’t know why you hate me so much.”
“Kelli, if there was an Olympic medal for standing, sitting, or leaping gall, you’d win the gold.”
As outraged as I was feeling, I tried to keep my voice level and calm. I further resisted the urge to bite her on the knee but wished Tugger was there to do it for me.
“They were all against me,” she sighed after a moment. “All those men. I had to do what I did.” The expression on her face had an innocence a nun couldn’t duplicate.
“You’re one piece of work, aren’t you? But spare me the blameless routine. I know it was you who shot your husband, even though you tried to hang it on Spaulding. And I mean your legal husband, Eddie, and not Nick. Although how Nick managed to stay alive around you, I’ll never know. Who’s this new guy? The dead man who was pretending to be your father? You’ve got them crawling out of the—”
“He wasn’t pretending to be my father,” she interrupted. “He was.”
My eyebrows shot up into my hairline.
She noticed my reaction and snickered. “Don’t look so shocked. Not every man who sires a kid deserves a father of the year award. My scumbag of a father didn’t, for sure.”
“You’re sitting there trying to defend murdering your own father?”
She didn’t answer but stared at me coolly for about a half a minute. I thought she was going to bolt, and I prepared myself to tackle her to the ground, if necessary. By God, I found her, and I wasn’t letting her get away.
Instead the only movement she did was to grab each breast with a hand, or as much as her small hands could hold. “You see these?”
“They’re hard to miss in neon hot pink.”
“I’ve had them since I was eleven years old. Eleven. That was the summer my loving father made a deal with his boss at the used car lot. A weekend with me in exchange for a promotion and a little extra cash. So dear, old dad took the deal and never looked back.”
She gave out a chortle then turned away, but not before I saw a hardness come over her features I’ve only seen on actresses vying for a Golden Globe award. It left as quickly as it came, but remained in her eyes, as she faced me again.
“Now you really looked shocked. His boss did things to me I still have nightmares over.” Her voice changed from anger to bitterness. “And he kept doing them for two years—every time his wife was out of town—until I was thirteen and had the sense to threaten to go to Child Endangerment.” She released her breasts from her grasp and lay back down again, still angry, still bitter.
“My father tried a few times after to do deals with other men, but by then I knew better, not like when I was a little kid.” She shook her head in disgust. “That’s the kind of lowlife my father was, pimping his own eleven-year old daughter.” She let out a high-pitched cackle, which led into a small sob. “And that’s why I often consider these things more of a curse than a blessing.” She glanced down at her chest.
“Where was your mother?” I stammered, hardly able to get the words out.
“She took off when I was three. I don’t know where she is. Who cares? I don’t need anybody.”
“How did your father get you involved in this Spaulding scam? It was his idea, right?”
Another cackle, less high-pitched but just as off-kilter. “Oh, please. He wasn’t smart enough. I’ve spent my life surrounded by stupid men trying to control me, use me.” She leaned forward, a wicked smile crossing her face.
“It was all my idea. I brought dear old dad in on it when I knew I’d probably need to get out of the country in a hurry. The police wouldn’t be looking for a father and child. I got the fake passports maybe six or seven months ago. I waited until things were right to use them.”
We had a plethora of fake passports going on around here, my Mildred Pierce being only one of them. I felt a flash of resentment. How dare she? With me, it was different. After all, I was a PI. I had a legitimate reason for… Wait a minute… Never mind.
“What do you mean, when ‘things were right?’”
She grinned like the Cheshire cat. “You ever play games? I love games. I play them on the computer all the time. Like dominoes. Ever play dominoes?”
“Dominoes? What’s dominoes got to do with anything?”
She studied me for a moment then looked away with a laugh. “Jesus, you really are stupid, just like the rest of them. I thought you were smarter. The night you followed me back to Vegas, you acted like you were. I saw you were right behind us. First, I’d seen Nick in the rearview mirror, with that big guy. That’s why I had Eddie leave the car in the parking lot of the Fantasy Lady. I wanted you to have time to get the cats and take Lady Gaga back with you. I couldn’t bring her here with me. After you were done, I sent Eddie back out to the car to drive home. You followed him, and I followed you. When you left, I snuck in the back way and took care of business.”
“You figured a few additional suspects in Eddie’s death couldn’t hurt.”
“It was easy.” She looked at me and said pointedly, “You were easy.”
For a moment, I was completely at a loss. Then things clicked together so fast and so furiously, I’m surprised the noise in my head didn’t scatter the birds in the trees.
“You set all of us up. Eddie, Nick, Spaulding, me, even your father.”
“Now you’re getting it.” She leaned forward, licking her lips in anticipation of the new game she and I were playing.
�
��You meet and marry Nick, even though you’re already married to Eddie, to get close to his client, Lou Spaulding.”
“Exactly.”
“Somehow you get hold of Spaulding’s books. Then what? Real hubby, Eddie, who’s in on this from the beginning, pilfers money from the mob accounts, digitally copied the books on the microchip—not just for the fifty mil but as blackmail.”
Kelli looked at me with a disappointed air. She let out a noise that sounded like the buzzer for a wrong answer on a quiz show. She lay down again.
“Incorrect answer. Eddie didn’t even know how to read a ledger, let alone drain money from it. He was a computer geek. You’re just like all the rest. You don’t think I’m smart enough to embezzle money. Nobody does. Stupid little blonde bimbo with big tits. Well, I took accounting in night school for a year and a half. It was simple.”
“All right, so it was simple.” My mind started racing again. Let’s face it; I love a good game.
“Let’s do this methodically,” I said. “You get involved with Spaulding, siphon off money from his bank accounts, taking digital pictures of the entries of the second set of
accounting books for extra measure. Eddie steals a microchip and downloads the images onto it, not just as potential
blackmail on Spaulding but…so…you could pin the theft of the money on Nick!” The last words were said in a rush. “That’s why you put the chip on Nick’s dog tags, so Spaulding would go looking for him and not come after you. Nick was a decoy. By the time Spaulding could figure it out, you’d be long gone.”
She looked pleased and sat up again. “You’re getting better.”
“But Nick got away, nobody could find him, and you decided to come to me for help.”
Her face clouded over. “That was a mistake.”
Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Boxed Set: Books 1-3 (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries) Page 69
