Sun, Sand and Murder
Kristine Frost
Disclaimer:
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2014 Kristine Frost Trust
Acknowledgements:
It takes a lot of time to write a book. I am grateful first and foremost to my husband for all his support. He’s been there every step of the way. I am grateful to Trista for our trips to San Francisco. I am grateful to Stephanie for her wonderful cover designs and to June for her copyediting skills. Many thanks to Lynn and Joan. They read the novel and were brutally honest about its problems. It takes courage to tell a friend that parts of her novel needed more work. Thanks to my wonderful readers. I wouldn’t be able to keep writing without you.
Chapter 1
Jeannette Stewart tossed and turned, trying to sleep, trying to blot out the memory of Dorothea’s smug, red face sneering at her over the dinner table. Damn Hallie for making such a scene over those stupid turtles. Damn Cordelia for allowing Dorothea to humiliate her in that sneering sympathetic tone of voice. Damn Steven for spending all her money then killing himself when she found out. Damn Jeremy for refusing to let her have some of her girls’ trust money. It wasn’t fair that she was the one who had to suffer for her husband’s stupidity. It wasn’t fair that she had to live on her sister’s charity when her children were rolling in trust fund money. It wasn’t fair that she had to beg, borrow or steal to live the way she should live, the way she was meant to live, she thought piteously. Then her resolve hardened. All of her dear family would pay for her humiliation. Hallie, Jeremy, Cordelia and Dorothea, especially Dorothea.
She thought for a few minutes, then grinned in the dark. Maybe if Dorothea knew what her dear, sweet, rotten son was up to, maybe she wouldn’t think he was so wonderful. The only thing she had going for her was her money. Dorothea didn’t have good kids, like hers, even though hers were totally selfish.
Angrily, Jeanette swung her legs out of bed. Slipping her feet into her fluffy white mules, she paced the floor for a few minutes then walked out onto the balcony that overlooked the ocean. She stood there watching the restless waves rolling up against the beach. The air was warm on her face and bare arms, warmer than normal for February. She could smell the pungent, stifling smell of seaweed as the tide went out, leaving piles of plants to dry on the beach. She was just getting sleepy when out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of white. Raising her eyebrows, she slipped over to the side of the balcony–the peach of her nightgown blending in with the peach paint on the house.
She could see two figures walking down the brick path toward the gazebo. The moonlight was so bright that she could see that the girl was wearing a black string bikini outlined in white. The man with her looked a little like Derek–the same paunch, the same bow legs, the same cocky strut–wearing what looked like a man’s bikini, what Hallie called a Speedo.
I’ll bet something interesting will be happening tonight. I think I’ll just take my fancy camera. She chuckled to herself. I’m glad I managed to worm it out of Jeremy. Then she thought, wouldn’t it be fun to hand Dorothea a picture of her precious son with his pants down, or even better completely off. She gave a silent laugh. I’d love to bring Dorothea down a peg or two.
Silently, she reached for her night camera. She tiptoed down the balcony stairs, chuckling to herself when she realized that the couple were climbing the brick steps up to the flower enclosed gazebo. This would be a good chance to show Cordelia that her beloved summerhouse was being used for immoral trysts. I’ve told her what’s going on but she refuses to believe me. Well, I’ll show her, too. I’ll have all of them eating out of my hand. They won’t be able to refuse me anything.
She left the brick-paved path to walk silently among the flower beds. When she got closer to the gazebo, she kicked off her slippers. Walking barefoot, she climbed up the steps. With a wicked grin, she clicked picture after picture, listening with undisguised disgust to the grunts and groans. She wanted so badly to make some kind of acid comment or a noise or something to scare these two heathens out of their skins but it would be more fun to bring them down publicly.
Then as silently as she had arrived, she slipped down the steps. When she got back to where she left her slippers, she noticed a flash of light near the boardwalk.
“I wonder what that flash was?” She hesitated for a minute, then she flitted across the lawn to stand by the boardwalk. She could hear that the tide had turned and was coming in, rolling across the sand, drowning out the voices so that only bits and pieces came through.”
“Pull it…”
“Careful….”
“Quiet…don’t want…hear.”
Drawn by curiosity and bitterness, Jeanette quietly climbed the wooden steps. She
paused to listen, then soundlessly she hitched her nightgown up around her waist, so she could
crawl across the damp boardwalk.
She could feel the no-see-ums buzzing around her bare legs but she didn’t dare swat at them for fear she would be heard. After what felt like eons of crawling, she came to the end of the boardwalk. Lying flat on her stomach, she watched three men for a few seconds, then she hastily pulled her camera into position and started taking pictures. When the men headed north toward the Canaveral National Seashore she followed, staying close to the scrub.
Suddenly, one of the men turned. She stepped back into the scrub but he had seen her. He pulled a gun from his waistband, taking aim, but one of the other men pulled the gun down. Their brief, hurried conversation gave her time to run back the way she had come. She had just reached the boardwalk when one of the men caught her nightgown. Twisting and turning, she flung the camera into the scrub as she fought to pull away. Then suddenly she was face to face with her attacker. Terrified she asked, “Who are you?”
“Nemesis,” he sneered as the long thin knife blade slid into her heart.
*******
Justin Malone looked at his watch, then said, “Driver, you can let me off here. I don’t want to wake anyone at the house.”
The man nodded and pulled to the side of the road. “That’ll be fifty-five dollars,” he said.
Justin fished a few bills from his wallet, grabbed his duffle bag and opened the door. As he began walking down the long driveway, he saw that all the windows were dark. They go to bed early here, he thought.
The moon was full and bright, so bright that the silvered landscape was as clear as day.
As he walked, he thought about the letter Jeanette, his mother, had sent him. It took almost a week to get to him because she thought e-mail was rude. He frowned as he thought about her complaints and how she was going to handle those complaints. The frown deepened. What she planned to do was blackmail. He was a cop. He’d seen enough blackmail letters to know. He knew what happened to blackmailers. They didn’t very often end up in jail because those being blackmailed didn’t want to press charges since that would get their names in the paper. He’d seen a number of dead blackmailers. Most people who were being blackmailed would pay, but the blackmailers generally got greedy. Men in particular were good at finding and disposing of a blackmailer.
He was startled out of his reverie when he noticed a man and a woman walking toward the old gazebo. He smiled to himself when he recognized the man’s silhouette. It had to be Derek, no one else in the family was built like a pear on sticks. The person with him looked to be a woman and a shapely woman at that.
He lost sight of
them when they went up the stairs into the gazebo. Then he was astonished to see a woman tiptoe down the stairs. It looked like she was wearing some kind of long, fluffy dress. He watched as she hurried up to the gazebo. He stopped for a minute and watched closely. It looked like she was taking pictures, He was too far away to see the camera. He couldn’t have seen it even at noon. But she was doing a good job of pantomiming doing that.
He started to run, but quietly. He suspected that it was his mother and she had already started on her crusade for money, blackmail money. He didn’t want to alert her or the couple in the gazebo.
When he got to the gazebo, he saw that the woman was crossing the boardwalk, crawling on her hands and knees.
What the devil? He thought as he paused in the shadow of a tall palm. Silently, he slid between the scrub and the boardwalk. He’d played under the boardwalk when he’d come for a visit so he knew that he could get to the beach without being seen. He dropped his duffle bag under the steps. As he moved like a shadow, he could hear snatches of conversation.
“Pull it…”
“Careful….”
“Quiet…don’t want…hear.”
He paused again pressed against the boardwalk, watching. He saw three men on the beach, putting stuff into a large rowboat. Further out, he could see a big boat, possibly a large yacht, gently rocking on the water.
One of the men looked up. The figure that had been prone on the beach, jumped to her feet and began running back toward the board walk. One of the figures, began chasing after her.
He caught her. Justin saw flash of a knife and the figure dropped to the sand. The other figures began throwing boxes into the rowboat, pushing it out to sea. They jumped in. The figure with the knife, ran toward them, splashing through the water.
Justin ran toward the figure lying on the sand. He dropped heavily to his knees and gently turned the figure, looking down into his mother’s face.
“Oh Mom,” he said. “Why?”
He felt someone behind him, but before he could turn, something hit his head and darkness came up to meet him.
Chapter 2
The hotel was a dump in the worst part of town. Hookers and pimps walked the streets as if they owned them. Drug dealers and their prey hung out in dirty bars or roach infested restaurants. The figure that pushed open the cracked glass door into the squalid hotel foyer didn’t match the surroundings. His clothes were expensive, the shoes were shined, hands were manicured and every hair was in place. The figure shouted money but anyone who looked in his direction, didn’t look back. There was something slightly strange, something a little twisted about the figure that made the hairs rise on the back of a normal person’s neck.
Later–the phone rang, sounding tinny in the dingy room. The figure on the bed stubbed out an expensive cigarette in a gold holder before picking up the receiver.
“Yes.” The voice carried no inflection.
“Hi, it’s me. It’s a done deal. He hired her this morning. I haven’t found out when she will be flying out. I’ll call you as soon I find out anything. I should know tomorrow night.”
“That’s cutting it too close.”
“Nothing’s been decided as far as I know.”
The voice was menacing, “Don’t fail me. You know what I do to people who fail me.”
The voice on the other end said, piteously, “I’m doing the best I can. I’ll call you as soon as I find out.”
“I’ll hang around Cockroach Haven until you call tomorrow. Remember I want to know every detail as soon as you know it, sooner if possible.”
The line went dead. The figure picked up the gold holder. “I know you won’t fail me because if you do, you know what will happen and when it does you won’t ever fail me again.” The laughter wasn’t pleasant.
********
The phone rang as the figure stepped out of the shower. Avoiding the bath mat that was grey with age and dirt, the figure picked up the phone.
“She’s flying out tomorrow–Delta 331. There is an hour layover in Dallas-Fort Worth. They should arrive there at 11:30 then she flies on to Orlando.”
The line went dead.
Chapter 3
“Insurance Investigations, LTD., Suzette Bishop speaking.” Suzette smiled cheerfully.
“Ms. Bishop, my name is Jeremy Stewart of Stewart, Stewart, and Montgomery. I’d like to hire you to investigate a fire at my aunt’s home. Would you be available?”
“We’re quite busy right now, Mr. Stewart. I’d have to meet with you to discuss the particulars before I could say I could take the case. My partner might be available, if I’m not, however.”
“No. I want you.” His voice hinted at a tightly suppressed tension.
“Well, generally speaking, unless you’ve got a good reason, either one of us would take the case.” Suzette smiled at the thought of another big retainer.
“I’m sure that Mr. Watts is a very good investigator. It’s just that my aunt has never been married. I think she’d be more comfortable with a woman investigator,” Stewart said smoothly.
Too smoothly? Suzette wondered. She continued, “Well, then, perhaps you could come to my office this afternoon. I have an opening at two o’clock.”
“I’m due in court this morning. I’m afraid this is one trial that is going to last all day, or more likely, several days. Would it be possible for you to meet me at Benihana’s Restaurant on Post Street at about 12:15? I don’t think the judge will go much past noon to break for lunch.”
Suzette looked at her calendar. “I have a client at 11:30 but I think I could be there by 12:15 or shortly thereafter.”
“Good. I’ll call and reserve a table.
Suzette made a couple of calls, then hurried into Randy’s office. “Jeremy Stewart of Stewart, Stewart, and Montgomery just called me. He wants us to investigate a fire at his aunt’s house. He asked for me because his aunt has never married and he thinks she’ll be more comfortable with a woman.
“Wow! Stewart, Stewart, and Montgomery is one of the biggest and best legal firms in San Francisco. This could be a huge break for us. When do you meet with him?” Randy was clearly enthusiastic.
“12:15 at Benihana’s on Pier 7. He’s in court all day.”
“Benihana’s, man, you’re going big time.”
“I know. I’d better take the company credit card since I don’t know who’s paying for this.” Suzette looked worried.
“Well, we can afford it since you solved the San Francisco Stalker case.” Randy was clearly elated about her news.
“Yeah, who’d have guessed that we’d rake in so many fat rewards?” Suzette looked at her calendar. “If this case turns out to be one we want, can you take the Palmer inquiry and the Taylor case?”
Randy nodded. “I was going to volunteer for the Taylor case, anyway. I know you don’t like doing accounting cases.”
Suzette laughed, “Especially since you are a CPA and I barely passed bookkeeping in high school.”
“Anything else, we need to talk about?” Randy flipped through a stack of folders.
Suzette moved some folders and sat on the corner of his desk. “Do you remember the Hunter accident?”
“Wasn’t that a Price-Hartley case?” Randy tapped his pencil against his desk blotter.
“It was--James sold it. He liked to sell the big, expensive, high profile policies–they paid more commission,” Suzette said with a sour grin. “That’s why so many of them have problems getting settled.”
“Your ex-husband, James?”
“The one and only. After my problems with him over the Martin case, I’d really rather you handled it. James already thinks I’m out to get him. He’d really come unglued if I challenged another one of his cases.”
“Sure,” Randy said. “But I thought Price-Hartley fired him. If he isn’t working for the company then he shouldn’t be bothering you.”
“Well, Bob Rawlins said he fired him, but I’m not sure I believe it since Bob has a nasty habit o
f lying. I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling about this one.” Suzette shuddered, “If you take it on, it could save me and the firm a lot of headaches.”
“Okay. I’ll handle it. But just out of curiosity, did the cops in Las Vegas ever catch him?” Randy watched Suzette’s face closely. She definitely had issues with her ex-husband.
She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “He dropped out of sight after he made the mistake of attacking me in front of Lieutenant Marshall. I haven’t heard anything about him since,” she paused.
“So you don’t know where he is?” Randy prodded, very concerned. James had threatened to kill her.
“No, and I really don’t want to,” she continued.
“What does he look like? It would be helpful to know what our adversary looks like before he sticks a knife in my back.”
Suzette pulled a picture out of her wallet. It was a head shot that showed a very handsome, dark haired man, about thirty-five years of age. He looked very well groomed but there was something about him that set Randy’s teeth on edge.
“If you’re divorced why do you keep a picture of him in your wallet?”
Suzette laughed. “When things get really bad and I get to the point where I don’t think I can go on, I pull out that picture and remember what it was like being married to the jerk, then everything falls into perspective. I’m able to cope with whatever crisis I have to deal with.”
“Interesting way of keeping things in perspective.” Randy had to chuckle. Sometimes Suzette’s way of looking at things tickled his funny bone.
Randy pulled a letter from under a pile of files. “I’m changing the subject,” Randy said with a smile. “Do you remember when we discussed the accident that killed both your parents and made you an orphan?”
“Sure. You said I might be able to find my parents by accessing the missing person reports for that state since a family member might have filed a missing persons report when my parents didn’t come back. I was going to but we got the Stalker case, and I just forgot about it. It isn’t that big a deal since I’ve been an orphan for a 30 years.”
Sun, Sand and Murder: A Suzette Bishop Mystery (Suzette Bishop Mysteries Book 3) Page 1
