Every Waking Moment

by Meryl Sawyer

  “Something’s wrong. I can tell.”

  “What planet have you been on?”

  Lisa’s dark eyes darted back and forth. “I’ve been working day and night to get my shop up and running. I’ve been sleeping there on a futon. I know I haven’t been around much …” She tried for a smile. “I’m sorry. What did I miss?”

  “Everything.”

  Taylor flopped onto the sofa and patted the seat beside her for Lisa to sit down. She couldn’t stay angry with Lisa for long. They’d been friends for too many years, been through too much. Lisa was hurting and using this Kama Sutra business to take her mind off her troubles.

  It took Taylor a few minutes to tell Lisa all that had happened since they’d last seen each other. Taylor hadn’t quite realized how monumentally her life had changed in such a short time. Lisa hadn’t even met Renata and now she was dead.

  “You’re telling me the police suspect someone in your family killed Renata?” Lisa asked. “Unbelievable.”

  Taylor nodded slowly. She hadn’t told Lisa about the fingerprints in the room or the Santería business. Undoubtedly Shane wouldn’t want his sources compromised.

  “Shane’s a security expert,” Taylor felt compelled to say. “He’s working for the company. We’ve been having some problems with our computer security.”

  “Really?” Lisa’s dark eyes were fixed on hers, and Taylor tried to gauge her sincerity. “What kind of problems?”

  “Sabotage. Messed-up invoices and stuff like that,” she replied, skirting the whole truth. “Did Trent ever give you the computer codes?”

  “No, and I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

  The outrage in her friend’s voice chilled Taylor. What was happening to her? She was beginning to suspect her brother of … well, not murder, but he could possibly be somehow involved. And now she was sounding as if she thought Lisa was behind the security breach.

  “I was just wondering,” she said, making this up as she went, “if Trent had them written down somewhere at home where they might have been stolen. I have the codes over there in my desk in case I need them.”

  “No, but he might have told Raoul. God only knows what he might do. He’s, like, one of the biggest skanks around.”

  Taylor nodded, trying to appear as if she were considering this. Actually, she hadn’t realized Lisa knew anything about Raoul Cathcart. Of course, any number of people might have told her.

  “I wasn’t totally honest about when I returned,” Lisa said, her voice troubled. “I came back to Miami and had a private detective look into Trent’s new life. I wanted to know where I’d gone wrong before I could truly let go of the past.”

  “Oh, Lisa, there’s nothing you could have done. My brother is gay. He tried to fight it, and I’m sure he loved you as best he could. I think my father’s death freed him, allowing Trent to finally live his life the way he wanted.”

  “I know,” Lisa replied in a broken whisper. “I’m okay with it now.”

  Taylor wonder if she really was okay with losing Trent. Thinking of Paul, she knew how hard it was to get on with your life when someone you loved was taken away.

  “The Buddhists call it bodhichitta, which is a Sanskrit word for the openness of heart and mind. I opened my heart and mind to the truth. I hadn’t failed at love nor had love failed me. You have to accept your fate, your destiny. Some things are not meant to be.

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t care about Trent. He’s a wonderful person. I don’t understand what he sees in Raoul—other than he’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

  “Trent and Raoul were picked up by the police last week for possession of crystal meth,” Taylor said. “It was my brother’s first arrest and hopefully his last, but if Raoul has a previous record, it could be a problem.”

  “Can’t you talk to him?”

  “I’ll try. Believe me, I’ll try.”

  “That’s all you can do.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes. They’d missed so much of each other’s lives in the year Lisa had been away. Taylor felt their friendship ebbing away. They needed to reconnect, spend time together.

  “Tell me about your business,” Taylor asked. “You have a shop. Where?”

  “Right here in SoBe on Fifth Street just off Ocean.”

  “Great location.”

  Taylor thought about the wonderfully restored art deco buildings in the area. After decades of neglect the pastel colored buildings had been restored. Versace had started the trend, and after his tragic murder, the renovation of SoBe’s architectural treasures became his legacy.

  “I have several products being produced for me like the Love Dust.”

  “How’d you know what to do and where to go?” Taylor was slightly insulted Lisa hadn’t come to her. Producing a product and getting it packaged wasn’t easy, but after her years at Maxx, she knew exactly what to do.

  “I hired a consultant. I didn’t want to bother you,” Lisa said. “You need to spend your spare time working on your computer game. I contacted Jim Wilson.”

  “Why would you call him? My father fired him when he worked for us.” She didn’t add that he was one of the people she suspected of tampering with their computers.

  “Do you know why your father fired Jim?” Lisa asked, her voice pitched low.

  “Not exactly. My father rarely fired anyone. He must have had a good reason.”

  Lisa started to say something, then stopped, looking away.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Taylor asked.

  Her friend looked at her again. “I thought you knew. Jim was fired because he was having an affair with your mother.”

  A wild flash of disbelief ripped through her, but the concerned expression on Lisa’s face made her think. When Jim had been fired, Taylor had been so wrapped up in Paul Ashton that she hadn’t been paying attention to much else.

  “I didn’t realize. I—”

  A loud knock on the door interrupted her. This time it was the police.

  Chapter 16

  “Have you fixed the computer problem yet?” Doyle asked Shane.

  “I’m working on it,” Shane told him. “It’s much more complicated than we originally thought.”

  “Maybe we should get someone else to help you.”

  Shane cursed under his breath. The fewer people who knew about the coded writing hidden on To The Maxx’s Web site, the better. Now he had no choice but to tell Doyle what he’d found or risk having him hire another person. Vince had been helping him, but when Renata was murdered, the family wanted Vince to work on the case.

  “Pull up a chair,” Shane said. “I need to show you something.”

  It took a few minutes to explain the situation to Doyle. As they talked and watched the screen, Shane decided Doyle knew nothing about this. He seemed genuinely shocked and upset.

  “This just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?” Doyle stood up. “I guess I’ll have to come up with another excuse not to meet with the prospective buyers.”

  “Tell them there’s been a death in the family.”

  “Right. They’ve probably read about it in the papers by now,” Doyle said as he walked away.

  MURDER IN PARADISE had been the banner headline in the Miami Sun. Shane had scanned the article. It threw suspicion directly on family members—especially Taylor.

  The paper made a big deal of Taylor’s home being searched, as well as the loft Raoul and Trent shared. They speculated the police were looking for the murder weapon, which was correct. But the authorities had been able to keep secret the reason these homes had been searched was linked to the fingerprints at the crime scene.

  He didn’t know about Trent’s loft, but Taylor’s apartment looked like an explosion in a Chinese laundry when the police had finished. He’d stayed up most of the night helping Taylor put things away.

  The police hadn’t found the gun yet, but they still considered Taylor and Trent to be prime suspects. Shane wouldn’t be surprised to learn
Trent and Raoul had killed Renata, but he knew Taylor had nothing to do with it.

  They were getting closer each day, and he liked the way their relationship was developing. This was exactly what he had in mind when he’d moved here to find Taylor.

  What he needed to do now was to discover who killed Renata. Until the murder was solved, Taylor would be under constant pressure. She wouldn’t be able to lead a normal life.

  Hell, who could?

  Reporters swarmed around the office and their apartment building. The police could drop by at any moment. He’d lived under pressure like this—worse, actually—but Taylor hadn’t.

  She was a strong woman, but being in the center of a murder investigation and having her own mother suspect her, coupled with problems at the office was enough to emotionally cripple anyone.

  Vince walked up unexpectedly, saying, “The police questioned the Cuban women in the shipping department. One of them admitted she’d hexed Renata.”

  “Why?”

  “It seems someone who spoke Spanish called her and offered her a thousand dollars to scare Renata. Half the money was delivered to her home by a messenger service. The other half came after she spent the day hassling Renata.”

  Shane rocked back in his chair and gazed at Vince. “She doesn’t know who it was. Right?”

  “You got it. The messenger service reports a woman dropped off the money, paid in cash, and they don’t have any idea who she was.”

  “What could the woman in shipping say that would frighten someone like Renata? I was around her quite a bit. She wouldn’t scare easily.”

  “Apparently, Renata had always been superstitious. Maybe she wasn’t really frightened, just wary and superstitious.” Vince grinned, slowly shaking his head. “Hey, I’ve lived here all my life. A lot of Cubans take Santería seriously.”

  Shane had spent enough time in small villages in South America to know how superstitious people could be.

  “Santería is white magic. You know, good magic, not black magic. That’s Macumba, an evil form of Santería.”

  “Was it what the Cuban woman used on Renata?”

  “Apparently. The pin Renata was wearing is most often used on babies to ward off the evil eye. Even YUCAs—young urban Cuban Americans—who are educated and affluent put those orichanets on their babies. When you’re very young you’re vulnerable, is the theory.”

  “Go figure.” Shane stared at the computer screen for a moment. “This code thing has me stumped. I want to make a copy and send it to a buddy of mine in the DIA.”

  Vince nodded. They both had been trained by the Defense Intelligence Agency but had worked in different fields. Shane knew someone who specialized in computers and used a sophisticated DIA computer to crack codes.

  “While we wait for the results, I want to help you with this investigation.” He didn’t add his real reason was clearing Taylor.

  “Okay, start with Trent and Raoul. See if they can explain why their prints were in Renata’s room. I’ve found a contact who copied the files at the psychiatric hospital where Raoul Cathcart was treated. I’m going to meet her this afternoon.”

  “You’re not going to believe what just happened.”

  Doyle looked up from his desk and saw Taylor at his office door. Her stricken expression twisted his guts. What now?

  “Come in and shut the door.”

  Taylor did as she’d been told, her motions jerky like a robot. He knew she’d been up all night and had told her to take the day off, but she wouldn’t listen. A major vendor had flown in from the West Coast. She had to meet with him.

  “I just ran over to see how Mother is doing. Caleb says she doesn’t want to see me—or any of us until the killer is caught.”

  “Did she tell you this herself?” Doyle didn’t like Caleb, hadn’t from the moment they’d met.

  “No, he claimed she was asleep, and I believe him. He said she was angry with me for sneaking into the house to get the hair samples for the DNA test. He called me a conniving brat who was interested only in my mother’s money. If I’d really cared about her, I would have been nicer to Renata.”

  “I guess the police told them your explanation for why your prints were at the scene.”

  “Probably. Does it matter how they found out? With Caleb living there, spewing venom, she’s not likely to be open-minded. He has altogether too much influence over my mother.”

  Something clicked in the back of Doyle’s mind. Brianna had mentioned the relationship between Vanessa and Caleb seemed odd to her, but she didn’t know what about it was bothering her. He trusted his wife’s instincts.

  Something was wrong.

  “You’re right. Caleb does have too much influence over your mother. He used Renata to get close to her. Even in death, he’s going to use your mother. They’ll have to plan the funeral and grieve together.”

  “You’re assuming Caleb is really Renata’s father, and he’s actually mourning her.”

  “They didn’t seem to have a father-daughter type relationship. That doesn’t mean Caleb can’t fake grief. With all of us on the suspect list, Caleb is the only person your mother can lean on.”

  Taylor remained silent for a moment. “Could Caleb have killed Renata?”

  “Why would he? She was the one who was going to inherit from your mother, not Caleb. With her gone, what does he get?”

  “You’re right. I’m betting they were fakers. They were planning to split the money. Being the mooch he is, Caleb will hang on and live off Mother for as long as possible. Remember, he wasn’t working in New Orleans. Renata supported them by stripping.”

  Doyle hated to see Vanessa go to her grave alienated from the daughter who loved her. Trent was a different story. He hardly knew what went on in his nephew’s head these days.

  Barefoot, hair tousled, Trent answered the door to his loft in the trendy section of SoBe near where Shane lived. Trent hadn’t come in to work today, and his machine was picking up his calls. Shane figured Trent was avoiding the media and drove over to his home.

  “Something wrong?” Trent asked.

  “Nothing new. I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

  Trent stood aside and Shane walked in, instantly noticing the open drawers and emptied bookcases. Visible from the entry, the kitchen appeared to have every cabinet open, the contents tossed on the counter. Odd, Trent seemed like the kind of guy who would have cleaned up immediately after the police searched.

  “I’m helping Vince investigate Renata’s murder. The sooner we find out who really killed her, the better off you and Taylor will be.”

  “Don’t the police have any new leads? They didn’t find the gun here or at Taylor’s. When are they going to look into that woman’s background and see who might have wanted her dead?”

  Shane didn’t blame Trent for being bitter. All of Miami was talking about the case and pointing the finger at Trent or Taylor. It would dog them the rest of their lives if the killer wasn’t found.

  “According to our sources, the police don’t have any new leads. They’re relying on the fingerprints in the bedroom as the first and most important clues. There are a few sets they haven’t identified yet. We may get a break there.”

  Trent cleared a space on the sofa and flopped down. His eyes—so much like Taylor’s—were bloodshot and puffy. Shane doubted he’d gotten much sleep last night, either.

  “I need to ask you why your fingerprints and Raoul’s were in Renata’s room.”

  “I’ll tell you what I told the police.”

  Shane couldn’t help wondering if what he was going to hear would be the truth. He also wondered why Vince’s contact at police headquarters hadn’t told him about Trent’s excuse.

  “We were over for dinner last week. To be friendly, Raoul asked to see the dresses Renata had bought at Miami Spice. She took us to the guest suite and showed us a dozen new outfits. Dresses, shoes, bags—the works.”

  “Your mother and Caleb must have explained this to the p
olice. If there was a reasonable explanation for your prints being at the crime scene, your place would never have been searched.”

  Trent heaved a sigh. “Just my luck. Mother and Caleb were in the den playing mah-jong when we told them good night. We were going dancing at Amnesia with Renata. Before leaving, we stopped to check out her new clothes. They didn’t see us go into the room.”

  Okey dokey, this was going to get ugly. Shane thought Trent was telling the truth.

  But who knew?

  No alibis. Fingerprints at the scene. A motive to kill.

  Taylor and Trent and good old Raoul had run out of luck. Or put it another way. How could the killer be so lucky?

  “I have a few questions for Raoul,” he said. “Know where I can find him?”

  Trent closed his eyes for a moment, then stared up at the loft’s exposed steel beams. “Unless it’s the police, no one is allowed to see him for a week. I checked him into a rehab clinic in Key Largo this morning.”

  Shane nodded, recalling Taylor’s confiding in him about the drug arrest. The last time he’d seen Raoul, the guy had appeared to be sprung on meth, as they said in SoBe.

  “That’s what you two were fighting about the night Renata was killed.”

  “Yes. I told Raoul we were through unless he got help. He finally agreed.”

  Shane left Trent in the loft staring up at the ceiling. He suspected Trent knew how difficult it was to get a person off meth once they were hooked.

  His cell phone vibrated; it was Vince.

  “I have the report from the clinic. It seems Raoul tried to commit suicide several times. That’s why he was hospitalized.”

  Shane wondered if Trent knew this. If so, he had more reason to worry. Meth screwed up the best of minds. Troubled ones were history.

  “Get this,” Vince continued as Shane walked along the crowded street, his phone pressed against his ear. “His wealthy girlfriend checked him in and paid for the clinic.”

  “Girlfriend? He’s gay.”

  “Not back then apparently. The psychiatrist’s notes were full of how much he loved this girl and wanted to marry her. She’d dumped him. That’s why he tried to kill himself.”