She wrinkled her brow, mentally adding them up. "We'd have to check the insurance policy, of course, but I guess altogether we're talking in the neighborhood of thirty-five to forty thousand."
Some neighborhood, I thought.
Finally, we arrived at the end of a long dingy hallway. Horton knocked at a heavily scarred steel door with a peephole set into the middle. After a minute or so, a buzzer sounded and the latch clicked.
We walked through two more doors and then into the vault. It wasn't what I'd expected. It was huge, with long metal pipes hanging from chains crisscrossing the room in rows.
The place was wall-to-wall fur. My nose started to quiver involuntarily and my stomach felt a little queasy. I heard a small gasp of pleasure from Lilah Rose. I turned to glance at her. She was enchanted. "Look at all these beautiful things," she breathed.
There were furs in colors and styles I didn't know existed. There were mink stoles from the '50s, long raccoon coats that looked like refugees from the '20s, mink neckpieces that had ratlike little heads nipping at their own tails. There were fur bedspreads and zebra-skin rugs. There must have been thousands of them. Now, I'm no animal rights zany but all those dead animal skins hanging in that dimly lit chilly room made my flesh crawl.
"Is there a system as to how they're hung up?" I asked Lundeen.
"Ought to be," he allowed. "But I got no idea what it is."
"I guess we'll just browse," I said. I turned to ask Lilah where she wanted to start, but she was already moving down the rows, lovingly running her hands across each coat.
We must have walked like that for forty-five minutes, Lilah dreamily stroking each coat, me dragging reluctantly behind, eyeing the goods with distaste. My feet, even in flats, were starting to ache from the concrete floor, but Lilah, who wore crocodile pumps with three-inch heels, fairly floated along the rows.
"This could take all day," I said crossly.
"Mmm, you're right," she said. She plucked at the sleeve of a coat. "Don't you just love this old leopard cape? It's so Hollywood. I don't know when I've seen real leopard."
I looked at the hangtag on the sleeve. The thing had been in storage since 1965. "No wonder," I said. "Leopard's an endangered species. If you wore this out in public you'd probably be lynched."
Lilah sniffed indignantly. "I like it," she said, but she moved on.
At the end of the aisle a large aluminum box on wheels blocked our access.
"What's in here, chief?" I called out. "A live panther?" Lilah Rose crinkled her nose in disgust. "Smells more like a dead skunk," she said. "Shouldn't somebody have cleaned these things before they brought them in here with other people's furs?"
Lundeen caught up with us and looked at the box. It had the remnants of various labels all over it and a series of numbers stenciled on the side. There was a large padlocked pull-down door.
"It's a merchandise hamper from one of our other stores," he said. "When furs don't sell by the end of the season, they send them over here to storage until we put them on end-of-year clearance." He squinted at the labels. "But I don't know why they'd leave the hamper here. Usually they unpack them, hang the furs, and take the hamper back down to the loading dock."
He reached around the back of his belt and drew out a ring of keys.
"Let's open this booger up and see what the deal is," he said, mostly to himself.
He fiddled with the padlock for a minute, then frowned. "This isn't one of our locks," he said. He reached back into his pocket and brought out a slim black file. We grinned at each other in recognition.
"You get a lot of call to use burglary tools at Rich's?" I asked.
"Be prepared," he said. "Boy Scout motto."
Within a few seconds he had popped the padlock and was rolling the door up.
Heaped in the bottom of the hamper were a pile of multi-colored furs, a black sable on top.
"Oh, look," Lilah squealed delightedly, reaching to grab the sable.
As she pulled at the coat, the corner of a large plastic bag started to slide out of the hamper onto the floor.
I leaned down and moved the other two furs aside. The plastic was a heavy garment bag. Inside were the remains of what had probably been a very pretty, very clever blond woman.
Lilah wasn't paying any attention to me. She'd donned the sable and was doing a little pirouette. "My furs," she said. "We found my furs."
"And your nanny," I said.
12
AS HYSTERICS GO, Lilah Rose Beemish's were a very mild case. She'd found her nanny dead, at the bottom of a pile of her own fur coats. Emotionally, she was more attached to the furs, but I think what she saw of Kristee contributed to the upset.
Another woman might have passed out. I guess it was Lilah's good South Georgia roots. The Ledbetters, I think, were farmers. She'd probably helped out at more than one hog killing in her time.
She gasped and sniffed and boo-hooed a little, especially after seeing Kristee, which was only for seconds, because Horton whisked us out of that vault in a New York minute. The body appeared to be nude, and from the quick glimpse I got, it looked like she might have been strangled. There were raw marks around her neck, and her face was a gray-black. Thank God for the constant 40-degree temperature of that vault. Otherwise, we both would have been tossing our cookies on somebody's Blackgama.
Horton was a champ. He hustled us out of the vault and up into his tiny office, which was back in the bowels of the building, in double-time.
It wasn't long before the real cops showed up. Of course, it being Rich's, where half the cops in Atlanta picked up overtime or Christmas security work, there were no flashing sirens or yellow crime-scene tape being unfurled. No one wanted to create a nasty scene during a one-day doorbuster sale.
Instead, two detectives and three uniformed officers crammed themselves into Horton's office. From what they said, I gathered the crime scene crew was busy processing the fur vault.
The cops didn't tell us squat, of course. Dick Bohannon, a lieutenant who's been on the force for more than twenty years, was the homicide detective in charge. His partner was an athletic-looking black guy I didn't recognize. But Bohannon I knew. He's one of those men who have a belly with a life of its own. His was an amazing thing that jutted out over his slacks, leaving his belt buried somewhere under a shelf of flesh. He had nine or ten strands of graying brown hair, tortured into a complex series of hills and whorls, and a set of mutton-chop sideburns that made him look like a Mod Squad reject. He nodded curtly at me, then directed a stream of questions at Lilah Rose.
Lilah had tried straight off to call Bo, but his secretary said he'd gone out to inspect a piece of property, and there was no answer on his car phone. So she called the family's silk-stocking downtown law firm, and they instructed her not to answer any questions until a lawyer could get there.
While we waited, Bohannon whistled tunelessly to himself and leafed through a Rich's sale circular he'd picked up on his way into the store. "Looka here," he said, suddenly perking up. "Polyester Sansabelt slacks, nineteen ninety-nine. Say, Horty, you get a discount working here? They give one to part-time cops too?"
Horton nodded yes on both counts, so Bohannon carefully tore the ad out of the circular and stuffed it in his pocket. He noticed me watching him and gave me a friendly sneer. I know Bohannon better than I wish I did. I'd worked for him for a couple of months on the burglary squad the year before I left the force.
It wasn't that he was an exceptionally sexist pig. It was just that he was one of a long line of cops I'd worked for who had an attitude about women.
So I'd typed up reports, did a lot of filing, answered phone calls that the guys were too busy to deal with, slogged a lot of bad coffee, and listened to an endless stream of little-boy locker room talk. The following year, Bohannon had been transferred over to homicide, and when my own request for a transfer to homicide was turned down, I'd left. No big scene. No tantrums. Just a lot of failed expectations on my part.
; "Well now, J. Callahan Garrity," Bohannon drawled. "I thought I'd heard on the grapevine that you'd gotten out of the detecting business." He pronounced it "bid-niz." "In fact, didn't someone tell me you were working for a janitor company?"
I'd long since learned not to let Bohannon get under my skin.
"Actually, it's a cleaning service, Dick." I deliberately dropped the Lieutenant. "And I own it. Other people work for me. I've kept my private detective license, and I do some consulting work now and again. Mrs. Beemish here is an old friend from college days."
From the doorway, someone cleared his throat, in a genteel manner, of course, to announce his arrival.
I recognized Tucker Taliaferro at once. He wore a sedate dark suit, a red silk bow tie with matching suspenders, and highly polished hand-sewn loafers. His hair was beige, and a set of rimless spectacles sat on his thin nose.
He and Lilah Rose huddled for a minute or two, and then he pulled out a chair, which he primly dusted off with his silk pocket handkerchief before he sat down.
"Now, Lieutenant," he said, briskly. "Mrs. Beemish tells me she feels calm enough to explain what she knows about her former employee and her disappearance, although there's really not much she can tell you."
He spoke with that strange pseudo-Etonian accent that prep-school-educated Southerners love to affect.
Lundeen and I exchanged raised eyebrows across the room.
Lilah clutched her Fendi bag with both hands in her lap and crossed her legs in order to allow Bohannon maximum observation of her thighs, which I personally thought were a little too dimpled for a skirt cut six inches above the knee. Her tanned face screwed itself up into a distraught little frown as she related how her family had been duped by Kristee and her business partner.
"She was lesbian, you know," Lilah whispered in shocked tones. "Of course my husband and I had no idea the girl was like that."
"Things had been going along fairly well, up until now," Lilah went on. "Bo and I and the children left Atlanta Friday to go to our place in Hilton Head, so I couldn't tell you what she did over the weekend."
"When did you leave town Friday?" Bohannon asked. "Did the girl tell you anything about her plans for the weekend? Did you talk to her at all on the phone while you were gone?"
"We left around six P.M.," Lilah said. "Bo had a late meeting. Kristee said she wanted to go see a movie with a girlfriend, and they were going to have a special program Sunday at her church." She laughed harshly. "Her church? Fat chance. Turns out she wasn't Mormon at all. We didn't talk to her at all over the weekend. In fact, we never saw her again after Friday."
"And you and your husband can both establish your whereabouts for the entire weekend?" Bohannon said, casually.
Taliaferro looked startled. "Why do you ask? Do you suspect my clients of having something to do with this mess?"
Bohannon favored him with an indulgent smile. "We suspect everybody the girl knew of having something to do with it, until we prove otherwise. I was just wondering if the Beemishes saw anyone in Hilton Head who can verify that they were there. No big deal."
The lawyer nodded warily at Lilah Rose.
"Well, we got in late Friday night, so I don't know who might have seen us. Saturday morning we played mixed doubles with some friends, Gloria and Tom Waring. We had brunch with several other couples, and in the afternoon the children and I were on the beach for most of the day."
"And your husband?"
Lilah looked annoyed. "He was in the house on the phone. He has a very important deal in development right now, and there are details only he can attend to. He'd come out for a few minutes and bring me a drink, or help the children with their sand castles, but then he'd go back in to wait on another call. The children and I came in around four-thirty, and they had naps while I showered and fixed my hair. Around six-thirty the babysitter arrived, and Bo and I went to dinner at Le Chateau. I guess Andre, the maitre d', would remember we were there. We were home by nine P.M."
"And you both stayed there until Sunday?"
"Late Sunday," Lilah Rose snapped. "Saturday night, Bo dropped the babysitter off and then he met a business associate for a drink at his hotel."
"And what time did he get in?" Bohannon asked.
Lilah tugged her skirt down toward the direction of her knees. All these questions were clearly boring her. "I'd imagine it was around midnight," she said. "I dozed off, and although I heard him come to bed, I didn't check the time."
"But he was there in the morning?" Bohannon suggested. "And on Sunday?"
Lilah Rose recrossed her legs and jiggled her right foot, letting the heel of her high-heeled pump dangle from her foot. "We slept in late," she said. Her face flushed a bit under her tan. "I might as well tell you. My husband and I had a little tiff Sunday morning. I was angry that he'd spent so little time with the children the day before. It was supposed to be a family weekend, you see. I was really angry. So I left the condo, got in my car, and drove to Beaufort."
Bohannon smiled indulgently. "And what did you do while you were in Beaufort? Did you see anyone?"
Lilah faltered for a minute. "Let's see. I guess I just wandered around town, did some window shopping, and ate lunch. And, well, I guess I had too much wine with lunch, because on the drive back to Hilton Head I got so drowsy I had to pull off the road and take a nap. When I woke up, it was late afternoon. I'd left the house without my watch, but I guess I got back to the condo around four or so."
Taliaferro winced at Lilah's words but kept silent.
"A nap," Bohannon repeated. "You took a nap. Where did you say you ate in Beaufort? Did you see anyone who'd remember you?"
Lilah's foot jiggled again. "I doubt anyone would remember me. I don't believe I know anyone in Beaufort. The restaurant was one of those near the waterfront. I remember it was packed. The Blue Crab, I think it was called. The waitress was so busy she barely paid attention to me."
"Got a credit card receipt?" Bohannon asked. "No," she said. "I paid cash."
"So no one else can account for your whereabouts for—what, six hours on Sunday?"
Taliaferro interrupted. "Mrs. Beemish has accounted for her whereabouts," he said curtly. "Surely that should do."
"We'll see," Bohannon said. "But you're sure you never saw Kristee Ewbanks again after Friday," he repeated. "Not even Sunday night, when you got in, or Monday morning?"
"Never," Lilah said. "It was late Sunday when we got home, and the children and I slept in on Monday. I never saw her again until just now." And tears welled up in her big blue eyes.
If Bohannon noticed the tears, he wasn't letting on. "And you say the girl stole from you? What kind of things?"
"Yes," Lilah said. "She was a trashy little thief. That's why we were here today, to see if my furs were in storage or if she'd taken them along with the jewelry and the bonds and the silver coins. I have a list at home, if you'd like to send someone over to get it."
Bohannon glanced at the calendar on Horton's desk, which he'd commandeered. "So the decedent disappeared, along with silver coins and jewels, sometime between Friday evening and Monday morning, when you noticed she was gone, along with a considerable worth of valuables. This is Wednesday. And you're just now getting ready to file a police report?"
Lilah Rose colored prettily. "We hated to make trouble for the poor girl," she said. "And we didn't file a missing person report, because she's an adult. We figured she might have run off with that boyfriend of hers. But our insurance agent just insisted we file the theft report."
"Boyfriend?" Bohannon said. "Didn't you say she was a lesbian?" He pronounced it "les-bee-un," with considerable spin on the last syllable.
"I suppose you could say she liked it both ways," Lilah Rose said, smirking. "His name was Whit. The last name was an Atlanta street, I remember. Somewhere over near Piedmont Hospital." She wrinkled her brow, trying to remember, then brightened. "Collier. That's it. Whit Collier. He's a Mormon boy she met through church, or so she told us. In fact, he
called and left a message on our answering machine for her."
This was news to me. "He did?" I said. "Why didn't you mention it?"
Lilah Rose did not like being questioned by two people at once. "You didn't give me a chance, Julia," she said, by way of reproval. "Anyway, he just called and asked Kristee to call him back. That was all. No time or date."
Bohannon asked a few more questions, but it quickly became clear that Lilah Rose was tiring of this whole ordeal. In the beginning she enjoyed being the center of attention. She probably regarded the whole thing as little more than an amusing anecdote she could share with the girls at her next charity luncheon. Now, though, things were getting tedious.
She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and glanced meaningfully at the wafer-thin gold watch on her wrist.
Taliaferro caught her signal. "Look, Lieutenant," he said, "there's not very much more Mrs. Beemish can tell you about this thing. However, Ms. Garrity has been investigating this case for the past two days, and I'm sure she can tell you more about this girl than my client can. She can certainly tell you how to reach this Ardith Cramer. Of course, if you have more questions later, Mrs. Beemish would be happy to accommodate your needs."
With that, Taliaferro gracefully helped Lilah Rose from her chair, took her arm in his, and waltzed her out of the room.
"I'll be calling your husband," Bohannon called to Lilah, but she didn't turn around. "And we'll check the Blue Crab, in case anybody does remember you."
13
BOHANNON PESTERED ME with questions for another thirty minutes after Lilah floated out. I told him what I'd found out about Kristee's background and how to reach the aunt in South Carolina Edna had talked to.
I also told him where he could find Ardith Cramer. He'd have found her on his own, quick enough, but I still hated ratting her out like that.
On the way out of Rich's, I fought my way through to the stocking counter and bought myself half a dozen pairs of their store-brand pantyhose. It might seem like a callous thing to do after finding a body and all, but it was a doorbuster sale. The stockings were $1.29 a pair, marked down from $2.95. I even bought Edna two pairs of the steel-belted-radial control-top stockings she likes to wear.
Every Crooked Nanny Page 8
