“Well, it’s not that at all. This is something I have to deal with on my own. Besides, why should she care? She’s so busy at her boutique shop that I rarely see her anymore.”
Marla couldn’t believe his bitter tone. “Maybe the two of you need to sit down and talk. It sounds as though you both have some misguided ideas about each other.” Reaching out, she touched his arm. “Please, Ken.”
He shook her off. “I’ll get things straightened out first, then we’ll talk. I promise,” he added, noting the doubtful look on her face. “You’ve always been a good friend. Don’t let me down now.”
“Ms. Shore?” Zack peeked around the corner of his cubicle.
“I’m coming.” She waved in his direction, thinking Zack could tell her what was bothering Ken if she played her cards right. Returning her attention to her friend’s husband, she offered a reassurance that pained her.
“I won’t say anything for now,” she told him. “But talk to Tally, will you? And let’s go out together again soon.” They’d double-dated before. Maybe she’d ask Dalton to be her escort. A delicious shiver shimmied up her spine at the thought. Play with fire, and you might get burned, girl.
“I’ll keep in touch,” Ken said. “And don’t worry. Things will turn out okay.”
“I hope you’re right,” Marla muttered on her way to Zack’s cubicle. With Zack being a prominent financial advisor, she’d have expected him to inhabit an office like the vacant one across the aisle with an expansive window view of downtown Fort Lauderdale. Either he’d fallen on hard times, or he rented a smaller space because of frugality. This tiny space didn’t inspire confidence. In order to attract prosperous clients, he should make an effort to appear more successful.
Zack, sitting at his desk, which was curiously devoid of papers, leapt up at her arrival. He must have seen her talking to Ken and figured he could wait a few more minutes for their appointment to begin. A gratified smile curved her mouth. She’d always felt her time was as valuable as the next guy’s. Why not return the favor and let him wait for her? Doctors’ offices were the worst. You might wait two hours to see the specialist who’d spend three minutes with you and then send a bill for hundreds of dollars. Someday she’d mail an invoice for the hours she lost while in the waiting room.
Zack’s limp handshake and artificial smile put her on alert. “Please take a seat,” he said, gesturing toward a chair with torn vinyl upholstery. The man didn’t even rate decent office furnishings. What kind of advice could he give to people when he needed some himself? “How can I help you?” he asked, lowering his slim frame into a chair in worse condition than hers.
Marla managed a smile. “I’m sure Wendy told you I visited her after the funeral. She’d mentioned you were a certified financial advisor, and I need help with my investments.” Her tone had a singsong quality on purpose. If she came across as the ditsy type, Zack might lower his defenses. She’d play into the common male misconception that women were financially inept.
He straightened his spine, letting her know the strategy worked, and gave her a supercilious look over his long nose. “I’ll need a list of your current assets,” he informed her.
Marla handed him a paper she’d prepared listing her allocations. A discussion ensued in which she was pleasantly surprised by his sound advice. Giving him a disarming smile, she crooned: “You know, I can’t understand why someone with your expertise isn’t inhabiting one of those larger offices with a picture window.” She swept her hand in a vague gesture.
Zack’s expression darkened. “You’re absolutely right.”
“The one directly across from this cubicle is empty.”
He regarded her with cold, dark eyes. They were small and round in his narrow face, almost overwhelmed by bushy eyebrows and a wide mouth. “You take a wrong turn around here, and your efforts aren’t appreciated. That’s what happened to me.”
“Yes, I recall Wendy mentioning some concerns about your situation, but I don’t understand.”
“She’ll have nothing to worry about soon.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “My personal fortune took a downturn recently, but I’ve a big comeback planned.”
“Oh dear, then what I heard is true?” she asked in her most child like tone.
“What’s that?”
“Well, I don’t believe it, of course. You’re obviously a competent advisor, so you’d know better.”
“What did you hear?” he snapped.
“In addition to your own loss, you’ve had to borrow money to repay clients whose investments soured last year. And the loan is being called in.”
Hunching forward, he scowled. “Who told you that?”
“Todd Kravitz. He suggested you might need his mother’s money to dig yourself out of a hole.”
“That scumbag. Ask him how he makes a living! Why, he was spooked when Aunty Bertha said she was going to write her memoirs. I’ll bet he was afraid she’d reveal his dirty deals.”
Marla’s heart thumped wildly at this new information. “How does he manage to get by?”
Zack grimaced. “I’ve been in his apartment. He’s got stuff lying around that doesn’t belong to him. Fancy electronics, jewelry. You get my drift?”
“I’m not sure that I do.” She fluttered her eyelashes, attempting to appeal to his masculine ego.
Zack snatched up a ballpoint pen and clicked it on and off. “Those goods are just passing through his place. He finds a buyer. Get it?”
Marla slapped a hand over her mouth in pretended shock. “Oh, my goodness!”
“You can’t rely on anything he tells you.”
“Well, you may be right. So this business about you taking out a loan isn’t true?”
“Oh, it’s true all right.” He puffed out his chest. “But I’ll be repaying it pretty soon. Wendy shouldn’t worry about things so much. Ken trusts me, and we’re in this together. You’ll see, we’ll surprise everyone.”
Marla felt a rush of alarm. What if Zack was talking about Wendy’s inheritance? In what way was Ken involved? Did the threads of this reach farther then she’d imagined? Her mind flitted to the possibility that whoever paid Carlos might have poisoned the creamer. Where had Zack been that night? For that matter, how about Ken? He could just as easily have sent one of his female colleagues to take a cake to Carlos. What was the significance of the cake?
“The night before Bertha—” Her throat squeezed, but she forced herself to continue. “The night before she passed away, were you home with Wendy?”
Zack threw her a startled glance. “Why are you asking?”
“I’m just curious,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Detective Vail questioned me about my activities. Remember, I was alone with Bertha in the salon. I gave her the cup of coffee, and although I wasn’t the one who poisoned her, Roy Collins has threatened to sue me. I’ve no doubt Vail considers me a suspect. In case he asks me about you, what should I say?”
His eyes narrowed. “I was home that night. Vail has no reason to blame me.”
“So who do you think did it?”
He scratched his head. “How should I know? Collins gets the business, and Todd gets off the hook if his mother was going to expose his illegal schemes.”
Inwardly, she sighed. It appeared this track was leading in circles. “Bertha kept an envelope addressed to me that I need returned. Did Wendy mention finding it yet?”
Zack shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard.”
“I like Wendy,” she said softly. “This must be a difficult time for her, especially when she’s pregnant”
“It’s been tough,” he agreed. “Wendy always felt close to her aunt, even after we were married. She could use a friend like you, Marla.”
“Is Todd her only living relative?”
“Yeah. Wendy had just turned twenty-two when her father died. That was ten years ago. Her
mother, Maureen, passed on four years later. Maureen was Bertha’s younger sister. Bertha took over as a surrogate mother, treating Wendy as the daughter she’d never had.”
“She must have been excited to learn Wendy was pregnant.”
“Naturally.” His mouth curved downward. “It gave her a better opportunity to offer unwanted advice.”
“Wendy said you and Bertha had problems getting along.”
His scorching look spoke volumes. “She was always giving us orders, believing her money entitled her to rule our lives. At first, we needed her help, so I swallowed my pride. But I hated her for meddling, especially when Wendy supported her views instead of mine.”
Jumping to his feet, he paced the tiny space. “Do this, Wendy, come with me. Zack doesn’t need you today, dear,” he mimicked. “She even offered us a mortgage if we’d buy a house in the same neighborhood. No way I’d live near the old lady. We were too close even where we settled. I financed the place on my own, thank you.”
Was this proud man capable of murdering his wife’s aunt to obtain her money? Doubts plagued her. Since he didn’t deny his disagreements with Bertha, Marla leaned toward believing him innocent. But even if he weren’t guilty of killing Bertha, what nefarious scheme had he and Ken cooked up together?
“How did Bertha’s husband fit into your relationship?” she queried, curious to know more about Bertha’s family.
“Walter was very generous,” Zack said, sinking back into his chair with the air of a man relieving himself of a burden. Maybe he’d kept these feelings bottled inside himself after Wendy’s aunt was killed. It wasn’t in good taste to malign the dead, plus he might alienate his wife by bad-mouthing her loved one.
“Walter never really knew Bertha’s secret pleasures,” Zack continued, leveling her with an assessing glare as though daring her to refute him. “A rich banker, he gave her the funds to establish her publishing company. He didn’t realize she had the ruthlessness to build it from the ground up. When Sunshine Publishing needed to expand, he brought in Roy Collins. It was his idea that they become partners. That was a big mistake. Bertha made Roy into much more than a partner.”
Marla leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
Zack gave her a knowing smirk. “Bertha and Roy were a number. Bertha was forty years old when she started the company. Todd was just entering school full-time. She was restless by the time Roy entered the scene. With her husband occupied at the bank, she involved herself with the business and her new lover. Wendy knew about it because Bertha would share her feelings of admiration for Roy.”
He noticed her disapproving glance. “Oh, she didn’t come right out and say they were having an affair,” he reassured Marla, “but Wendy figured it out. You could see how they acted together. It’s amazing Walter didn’t notice, but he was the type who focused so totally on his job that he forgot birthdays and other social events.”
“What was Roy’s relation to Bertha at the time of her death?” Marla asked. “Were they still together?”
“Hell, no. Roy always did have a wandering eye for the ladies. That’s why he never married. Bertha said she was going to include him in her memoirs, just like Todd. She never approved of Todd’s disreputable lifestyle, you know. She wished he’d get married and give her grandchildren. But Todd likes women, too. He’s got a different gal in his place each week. You’d think he’d be worried about catching AIDS.”
Marla remembered the sleazy looks he’d given her in the nightclub. If she never encountered him again, she’d be happy. “If Bertha was no longer hooked up to Roy, who’s his latest interest?” Wondering if Zack knew about Darlene, she held her breath for his answer.
“None of my business.” Raking her, his gaze darkened. “I think our appointment is finished. I’ve said enough.”
“I’m just trying to help.” Standing, she spread her hands.
“You know what I think?” he replied, rising. “This interview was just a fishing expedition. You have no intention of following through on my recommendations.”
“You gave good advice, Zack. I promise I’ll consider your suggestions.” She paused, leveling him a direct gaze. “If you have anything to add to our discussion, you know where to find me.”
“Good-bye, Marla. I’ll tell Wendy we saw each other. She’ll be pleased.”
Chapter 12
Marla left Zack’s office with more questions than answers. While driving to the restaurant where she was supposed to meet Anita for lunch, she reflected upon their exchange. Zack had claimed he and Wendy were home the night before Bertha died, but was he telling the truth? His motive seemed stronger than ever for gaining the inheritance. With a child on the way, a large debt owed to creditors, and a workplace that needed serious redecorating, he could use a hefty infusion of cash. Otherwise, what else was this big windfall he expected in the near future? And how was Ken involved?
She felt dismayed at the notion that Ken was keeping secrets from Tally. At least he wasn’t involved with another woman. That had been Tally’s main concern, although she didn’t believe her friend would be too happy about his association with Zack, whatever it meant.
Roy Collins had had no scruples about shacking up with Bertha while she was still married. Even if Bertha had made the first move, his deceit indicated he lacked principles. Now he’d turned to Darlene, and Bertha’s death left him in control of Sunshine Publishing. Did the drive for power motivate him, or was he fired by greed? Or perhaps he sought a more powerful position believing he’d be more appealing to women. Marla wondered how Bertha might have reacted if she’d found out about Darlene. Was the older woman finished with him, or would she have been furious at his betrayal?
She’d have to talk to Lance to see how his inquiries were proceeding. If he gave her a solid rock to stand on, she’d approach Roy. Or maybe Darlene would be a better road to follow. They both might have had reasons to get the old lady out of the way.
“So what are your conclusions?” Anita asked, facing her across the table at Brasserie Max in the Fashion Mall. Marla was digging into angel hair pasta with sun-dried tomatoes and minced garlic while Anita enjoyed tomato basil soup and Caesar salad. Her mother looked perky in a bright daffodil-and-black outfit, her red nail polish vibrant as she waved her hands to animate her speech.
Marla swallowed a gulp of iced tea. “I don’t know. I wish Dalton ... Detective Vail would get back to me about those marzipans. I’d like to find out if they were legitimate. If not, maybe he was able to get some prints off the box.”
Anita put down her fork. “You’re not doing anything dangerous by talking to these people, are you? Because if you’re being threatened, stop being a yenta. You’d be better off minding your own business.”
“This is my business.” Warmth gripped her heart. From the look of anxiety in Anita’s eyes, Marla realized her mother was worried about her, but she felt compelled to learn the truth. She couldn’t explain the guilt she experienced over Bertha’s demise without reviving painful events. Nor could she explain her fear that Vail would find the envelope and expose her disgraceful past.
“I’m not a schnook, Ma,” she said. “I can watch my back. I called Detective Vail when I got those candies, didn’t I?”
Anita nodded sagely. “So when am I going to meet this paragon of authority?”
Shoveling a forkful of pasta into her mouth, Marla regarded her obliquely. “Who said anything about meeting you?”
“Come on, I can tell he attracts you. You sort of roll your shoulders in a suggestive manner when you mention him.”
“I do not!”
“Is he Jewish?”
“No, he isn’t. Anyway, he has no interest in me except as a murder suspect.”
Anita looked her in the eye. “You’d be smarter to choose Arnie. He’s a nice Jewish man who makes a good living. You could do worse. Besides, he’s handsome as the devil, woul
dn’t you say?”
“If you like him so much, you ask him out.” She drew in an exasperated breath. “Ma, I didn’t come here to discuss my love life.”
Anita raised a penciled eyebrow. “You’d rather talk about killers? Charming topic. Your brother was asking about you. He’s back from his trip. It would be nice if you called him to say hello.”
“He could call me, too.” A flush of shame crawled up her neck. She should have phoned him last week but had been too caught up in her own problems. “I’ll get in touch with him tonight,” she promised, feeling an upsurge of resentment at the way Bertha’s death had taken over her life. Whoever had poisoned the old lady had done Marla a grave disservice. More than ever, she vowed to bring the perpetrator to justice.
Errands occupied the greater part of the afternoon, but she made time to stop off at the library. Unfortunately, they had a dearth of books on poisons, so she gave up and went home. Maybe the Internet had a forensic site she could explore.
After letting Spooks out and refreshing his water dish, she headed across the foyer toward her bedroom. A folded white paper by the front door caught her attention. Staring at it, she felt her throat tighten. Now what? Someone had slipped a message under her door. Was it the same person who’d sent her the box of candy?
Swallowing with a dry tongue, she picked up the note by its corners, by now aware she should keep her fingers off the evidence. Carefully unfolding the paper, she quickly scanned the scrawled handwriting. “Thank God,” she burst out in a tremulous voice; it was from Moss.
Marla, here’s my latest effort. See what you think.
Beyond my front door an anthill stood
I covered it with a pesticide hood
The creatures scurried about
Having lost their clout
Now nothing remains of their brood
Marla laughed until she doubled over and the tears ran down her face. What a sweet old man. She sincerely hoped he published his poems someday so he could bring good cheer to others like he did to her.
Permed to Death Page 14
