by Elaine Viets
“All the Bond girls were lookers,” Phil said.
“Almost the equal of Helen here.” Max winked at her.
Helen decided to stop this stroll down memory lane and go back to their investigation.
“So what about our diver?” she reminded him gently.
Max signaled for more coffee. “He’d need an underwater scooter and knowledge of where the rip current usually subsides,” he said. “Having that information and control of his own movements, he could easily grab the victim’s leg from below, pull her under and drown her.”
“Actually, he stabbed her with a knife,” Phil said.
“Smart,” Max said. “And quicker. He’d be able to kill her and scoot back to safety without being seen. Basically, this Ceci appeared to be safe to the onlookers until she fell off the board, right?”
“Right,” Phil said. “She was paddling against a strong west wind. There were some dolphins out by the reef. People ran out on the pier to see them, calling ‘Here, Flipper.’ Anglers threw them baitfish. It looked like Ceci was paddling over to see the dolphins when she lost her balance and fell off the board.”
Max finished the last bit of sausage. “And she never resurfaced?” he asked.
“Not till the lifeguards pulled her out,” Phil said. “She was unconscious and had a head wound. We couldn’t see the stab wound in her back.”
“If she fell off the board and then the diver pulled her under,” Max said, “that would open questions as to what actually happened. Especially if there were no marks indicating a sea creature, such as a shark, had taken her down. There are sharks off that reef, but they’re mostly harmless.”
“Nobody saw any sharks,” Phil said, “and Ceci’s body had no sign of a shark attack. The medical examiner said a human stabbed her, probably with a dive knife.”
“If indeed your scuba guy murdered your paddleboarding lady,” Max said, “she had to have had a routine that he could count on to kill her.”
Helen looked at him blankly. “I’m not tracking,” she said.
“The killer had to know she’d be there at that particular time,” Max said.
“Her husband, Daniel, made sure of that,” Helen said. “Daniel and Ceci took lessons with Sunny Jim the day before she was murdered. Ceci wanted to go out again before they went back to St. Louis. Daniel made reservations with Sunny Jim for two boards the next morning on Riggs Beach. The couple showed up on time, but Daniel said he had a hangover and didn’t want to go out. His wife went paddleboarding alone while he sat on the beach.”
“Interesting,” Max said. “Did the couple get along?”
“No,” Helen said. “They were staying at Sybil’s Full Moon, where I used to work.”
“Sybil still in charge?” Max asked.
“Strong as ever,” Helen said. “The hotel staff didn’t like Daniel. Sybil said he and Ceci had a huge fight the night before she died.”
“Hm. So it’s possible the husband set up the murder,” Max said. “He made the arrangements with the diver and delivered his wife to the beach at a certain time.”
“Ten o’clock,” Helen said. “High tide was ten twenty-six.”
“So the husband delivers his wife to the location on time,” Max said. “But in order for this scheme to work, the diver had to see her getting set to go paddleboarding.”
“Meaning?” Helen asked.
“Meaning he’d have to know how much time it would take him to reach her. No way he could be a mile away and expect to accomplish the deed.”
“He could be sitting on the beach,” Helen said.
“He’d be mighty hot—and very noticeable—on a sunny beach in a wet suit,” Max said. “Ditto if he hung around under that pier. But there is Sunfish Cove.”
“What’s that?” Phil said.
“That little inlet just before that bend in the beach, above Riggs Pier. Your diver could observe her from there and then set off to meet her at the appropriate spot. He would also have to be good with an underwater compass to get where he wanted to be when he wanted to be there.”
“Do you think he owns a scooter?” Phil asked.
“He might,” Max said. “You can buy some for under a hundred bucks, but they’re more like pool toys. If the diver was messing around near Riggs Pier, he’d need a good scooter, and those can run more than a thousand dollars. It’s more likely he rented one. I’d check the dive shops around Riggs Beach first.”
“That’s my job tomorrow,” Phil said.
“Good luck. And don’t forget, dive shop employees are very underpaid.” Max grinned and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
CHAPTER 18
“‘Dawnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment,’” Phil howled from his shower.
Helen smiled while her husband tortured “White Room,” an Eric Clapton favorite. Phil’s voice was flatter than a bath mat. My man is no rock star, she thought. Except between the sheets. Good in bed and he makes me coffee in the morning. She took the last, lukewarm swallow and slipped on her satin robe.
Phil stepped out of the bathroom in a steamy cloud, his shower-damp hair the color of dull silver. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a white polo shirt. His collar was partly trapped inside the shirt neck.
Helen straightened his tangled collar, then wrapped her arms around him. “Are you sure you couldn’t stay a little longer?” she said, kissing him.
“Good heavens, you’re insatiable,” he said in mock horror. “Twice last night and twice this morning. What more do you want?”
“Three times?” she said.
“Tonight,” he said. “And that’s a promise. It’s almost nine o’clock. I have to check out dive shops and find out if anyone rented an underwater scooter the day Ceci died.”
“Or the day before,” Helen said. “I’m stalled until you make some progress. No point in me watching Sunny Jim’s place. The competition can’t do more damage to him.”
“He’s barely hanging in,” Phil said. “Business is way down since Ceci’s death. You might as well take the day off until you hear from me.”
“I’ll have coffee with Margery by the pool,” Helen said. “I haven’t talked to her in a while.”
She kissed Phil good-bye, slipped on shorts and a T-shirt, poured herself more coffee and stepped out into the sunny-bright morning. The humid air felt soft and inviting after the chill air-conditioning, and the grass was green with promise.
Margery was hosing off the pool deck. Their landlady wore her favorite purple from her sparkly lavender T-shirt to her flip-flops festooned with mauve flowers. Her burning cigarette sent up a lazy curl of smoke.
“Morning, bright eyes,” her landlady said. “How’s the Riggs Beach case?”
“Phil’s checking out dive shops this morning,” Helen said. “It’s on hold unless he finds something. We’re still looking for Ceci’s killer.” She told Margery what they’d found so far, including their midnight meeting with Max.
“Who do you think killed her?” Margery asked, turning off the hose.
“Daniel, the husband,” Helen said. “He’s mean enough and he criticized his wife’s weight gain.”
“Doesn’t make him a killer,” Margery said, rolling up the hose.
“Daniel is the only one who knew when his wife was going paddleboarding,” Helen said.
“Not true,” Margery said. “Anyone could find out. All he had to do was call Sunny Jim and try to make a morning appointment. How many paddleboards does Jim have?”
“Eight at the beach location,” Helen said.
“Then it’s easy. The person calls Jim and says he wants to book a group of eight from nine a.m. till noon. If Jim said he was booked at ten, the caller would know exactly when Ceci was going out.”
“Brilliant!” Helen said. “That puts Sunny Jim’s competitors back in the picture.”
“I have my uses,” Margery said. She stashed the hose in the corner. “Are you going to hire me for part-time work?”
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��There’s not even work for me right now,” Helen said. “That’s why I’m home.”
“Glad you two are still honeymooning. Twice at night and twice in the morning. Impressive.”
Helen felt her face redden. “How did you know?” she said.
“Your jalousie windows leak more than your air-conditioning,” Margery said.
Helen was in full blush now. Margery laughed and said, “You’re young. Enjoy each other. It’s better than listening to fights, like I did with some tenants.
“Right now, I hear your cell phone ringing. Is it at your place or Phil’s?”
“Phil’s,” Helen said, sprinting for his door.
She dove through the door and grabbed her phone off the coffee table.
“Helen! It’s Kathy. He called.” Her sister’s voice skittered with panic, as if Kathy was sliding off the edge of the world.
Helen’s heart sideslipped in her chest. She sank down on Phil’s couch, like someone had chopped off her legs. She didn’t need to ask who’d called. She knew. The worst had happened. The blackmailer was back.
“This time he wants sixty thousand dollars,” Kathy said. “In cash.”
Helen tried to wrap her mind around that staggering number. She’d expected this demand. The blackmailer liked to double his demands. Last time, she’d given him thirty thousand.
“When?” Helen said. She fought to keep her voice steady. One word was all she could manage.
“He’s giving us two days,” Kathy said. “I’m supposed to put the money in a Schnucks supermarket bag and leave it on top of the same Dumpster on Manchester Road.”
The same Dumpster where Helen had already left thousands of dollars.
“Can we do that?” Kathy asked.
“I’ve got the money,” Helen said. Her half of the money from the sale of the St. Louis house she and Rob had owned sat untouched in the bank all the time she’d been on the run.
She could hear her sister’s audible sigh. “He’s giving us till tomorrow to get the money together,” she said. “Helen, you have to be here this time. Last time you were out of the country and left me alone.”
Helen was irritated by Kathy’s whine, but her sister was right to be upset.
“Kathy, I was on a job in the Bahamas,” she said. “I couldn’t get to St. Louis that fast. That’s why I put your name on the account, too, so you could get the money yourself.”
“I did, but I was scared.”
Her little sister was crying now, wrenching sobs laced with fear and regret. Kathy was two years younger than Helen, plump, pretty and placid. She loved her husband, Tom, and their two children, Allison and Tommy Junior. They lived in a house with a white picket fence. Then a blackmailer destroyed Kathy’s nearly perfect life.
“I’ll be there for you,” Helen said. “Phil and I will fly out tomorrow.”
“Phil! You can’t bring him,” Kathy sobbed. “You promised not to tell. You promised. For Tommy’s sake.”
“I also promised to love and honor my husband,” Helen said. “I’ve already broken that promise several times. If we’re going to save Tommy, we need two people to catch the blackmailer.”
“You’ve got me!” Kathy said.
“I need a professional investigator,” Helen said, “and Phil’s the best. Kathy, this is it. This time, we either catch him, or we’re all ruined. Tommy, too. Next time, the blackmailer will double his demands to a hundred twenty thousand dollars. I’m running out of money. It’s now or never.”
Her sister wailed like a war widow.
“Kathy!” Helen said sharply. “Get hold of yourself.”
Kathy sniffled, gulped once and said, “Okay, you’re right. I’m just so worried about my little boy.”
“Tommy didn’t do anything wrong,” Helen soothed. “He whacked Rob with a bat, but he didn’t mean to hurt him. It’s not his fault. Tommy will be fine.”
“How can you say that?” her sister lashed out. “How can you be so sure? He’s not your son. You have no children. You have nothing to lose. I—I can lose everything.”
Another burst of tears.
I was too forceful, Helen thought. She softened her voice and said, “Kathy, you’re right. I don’t have children. But I love Tommy and his sister. I’d never do anything to hurt them.”
“Tommy did it for you. He was trying to protect you.” Kathy was on the verge of tears.
“I know,” Helen said. “He acted like a little man.”
“I’m not blaming you,” Kathy said. “It was his awful uncle Rob who tracked you down to our backyard. My Tommy saw Rob grab you and threaten me. He thought you were being hurt.”
“I was,” Helen said.
“Tommy hit Rob as hard as he could with his aluminum bat and knocked him unconscious. He was quite the slugger.”
Even in this crisis she couldn’t resist a show of motherly pride, Helen thought. But my sister does blame me—and I deserve it.
“You were smart to send Tommy to his room after he hit Rob,” Helen said. “Rob revived and you begged him to go to the emergency room, but he refused.” They both knew this story, but reciting it again seemed to justify their terrible decision.
“We both begged him,” Kathy said. “Rob was always pigheaded. He couldn’t admit he’d been knocked out by a little boy. He started laughing at us, and then he passed out again. Except this time, he didn’t wake up.”
“We should have called the police,” Helen said.
“No! I made the right decision and I’ll stand by it,” Kathy said. “If we’d gone to the police, it would be in the media. My boy would be branded a killer. His life would be over before it started. No one would play with him. You don’t know how cruel kids can be. You have no idea.
“I’m glad we buried Rob in the church hall basement. He deserved it.” Kathy was regaining her spirit.
“We were lucky the basement hole was already dug,” Helen said, scrambling back to their familiar narrative. Kathy had to feel safe enough to follow Helen’s lead this time. “We rolled Rob up in Tom’s plastic drop cloths and carted him to the church in your minivan. All we had to do was cover him with crushed rock. The next morning, the basement concrete was poured.”
And Rob was gone but not forgotten, she thought. Nothing Kathy says can make what I did right. I never told Phil, not even when we married. I never told Margery. Rob’s secret burial has weighed on me, heavier than the concrete that covered his body.
“I’ve kept my bargain long enough,” Helen said. “Someone knows our secret. They’ve blackmailed me until I’m bled dry. Now we have to end it and save Tommy.”
“How?” Kathy asked, her voice small.
“Did you tape the blackmail call like I asked you?”
“Yes, yes, I’ve got it all,” Kathy said. “I practiced with the equipment you sent me until I could do it without thinking. It’s a good thing, because my mind went blank when he called.”
“Good girl,” Helen said. “Did he use a voice changer again?”
“Yes,” Kathy said. “This time he sounded like a movie tough guy. That wasn’t as creepy as the time he sounded like a little girl.
“Helen, it’s Rob. I know it is. I’ve been reading about head injuries on the Internet. They’re tricky. He might have looked dead, but he could have had a small stroke and recovered enough after we buried him to drag himself out of that hole. We only buried him under a few inches of rock, and the plastic drop cloths were held with bungee cords. Rob could have escaped. You know how crooked and lazy Rob is. He’d rather torment you than turn you in to the police.”
“Possible,” Helen said. More than possible, she thought.
“He talked like Rob, too. He called you Sunshine. That was his nickname for you.”
“That’s a common name,” Helen said. “It doesn’t prove anything. Kathy, that blackmailer could be a neighbor, or the church guy who was cheating on his wife—what was his name?”
“Horndog Hal,” Kathy said.
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�Right,” Helen said. “He was making out with a woman in the backseat of his car when we parked in the church lot. Didn’t you say he had a bunch of kids? He’d need money.”
“We all need money in this neighborhood,” Kathy said. “We’ve got kids in school. But Hal’s not a suspect. He moved to Georgia. He’s gone.”
“Good. One less,” Helen said. “I’ll book two tickets for the early-morning flight to St. Louis tomorrow. We’ll rent a car. I want you to e-mail me the names and addresses of all your neighbors today. They could have seen something when we were hauling Rob’s body out of there.”
“We don’t have to worry about old Mrs. Kiley next door,” Kathy said. “She’s ninety-one, and she goes to bed early.”
“And never gets any visitors?” Helen asked.
“She’s got a grandson who sees her sometimes.”
“Get his name,” Helen said. “Who else could have seen what happened?”
“The Kerchers were on vacation and no one was at home,” Kathy said.
“Didn’t they have a house sitter?”
“No, somebody walked their dog.”
“Get that name, too. Who else?”
“There’s the Cooks on the west side, but their view is blocked by our house and a big tree.”
“You hope,” Helen said. “Get their information, too. Call me back as soon as you have it.”
“I still think it’s Rob,” Kathy said.
“I hope you’re right,” Helen said. “If it is Rob, he can’t report us to the police. He’s been blackmailing us and you’ve got him threatening you on tape.”
“I do!” Kathy sounded hopeful. “Then Tommy will be free. We’ll all be saved.”
Except me, Helen thought. I could lose everything I care about: my home, my business and the love of my life.
She remembered Phil singing that Clapton song. “Dawnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment.” Her contentment left this morning.
CHAPTER 19
Helen curled up on Phil’s couch, her arms wrapped around her cat like he was a teddy bear. Thumbs purred and kept his big six-toed paw possessively on her arm.
“You still love me,” Helen said, hugging the cat closer. “I may lose everyone—Phil, Margery, even our PI agency, but I’ll still have you.”
