“We won’t be alone with him, Jeannette. He’ll be surrounded by friends. Besides, I can’t imagine Roger Lafferty killing Tessa, much less Liza and me.”
“Who knows what measures a desperate man might be driven to take.”
A vague chill stole over Molly for the second time that day. “You aren’t having one of those visions of yours, are you?”
“I do not have visions,” Jeannette said huffily. “I am just sensitive to certain auras.”
“I don’t believe in all that stuff. You shouldn’t either. You’re an educated woman.”
“It is because I am educated that I have learned to trust what I feel in my heart,” she retorted, her expression quietly serene.
With her mahogany skin and regal bearing, Jeannette came across as a high priestess of some sort, one whose words of wisdom should not be taken lightly. She scared the daylights out of Vince, who was convinced she had the power to cast spells. Molly was less easily frightened, espe-cailly when one of Jeannette’s feelings butted headlong into her curiosity.
“I’m going,” she said firmly.
Jeannette shook her head, but said nothing more. Her visible disapproval did take some of the spirit out of the anticipated meeting, however. Molly could hardly wait to leave the film office with Liza.
Unfortunately, Liza appeared to be as unenthusiastic about going to the Lafferty house as Jeannette. She had dressed in what was, for her, a sedate outfit—black stirrup pants, a black silk tank top, and a loose-fitting jacket in black-and-white silk that floated around her. Chunky onyx and silver jewelry acquired on some Mexican adventure accented the ensemble. Her pixie face, normally animated, seemed pinched. Not even the dash of her clothes could stave off the overall impression of gloom.
As they drove to Roger’s, it didn’t help that dark, heavy clouds were gathering in the west, promising a typical afternoon thunderstorm. A ‘gator pounder, as one local weatherman sometimes referred to the brief but violent storms. With the skies rapidly turning a gunmetal shade of gray, the winding, heavily shaded streets of old Coral Gables took on a threatening ambience. The twisted trunks of the spreading banyan trees along Coral Way added to the eerie atmosphere. If they’d been approaching a dreary castle on thecoast of Cornwall, Molly couldn’t have felt any more as if she’d stumbled into some gothic novel. She shivered. Obviously, Jeannette’s dire warnings had thoroughly spooked her.
“Have you been to Tessa’s before?” she asked Liza, hoping that conversation would dispel the odd sense of impending disaster she hadn’t been able to shake all day.
“A couple of times for meetings. It’s quite a place, built in the thirties and filled with tile and odd-shaped rooms. When Roger and Tessa bought it, ten years ago I think it was, they redid the interior and upgraded the kitchen to something that half the chefs in Dade County would kill to have in their restaurants. They had a major hassle when they painted the outside, though.”
“Why?”
Liza grinned. “One of those typical Gables things. The painter didn’t check his color chips against those the city of Coral Gables permits. He had to do the whole damned paint job over again, because the shade of paint was slightly darker than the law allows. Roger was fit to be tied, tried pulling strings at City Hall, but to no avail. Coral Gables may not be able to keep out the drug dealers, but they sure as hell can control what color paint people use.”
“Wouldn’t you love to meet the person in charge of enforcing the color palette?” Molly said, envisioning some poor soul creeping around at dawn matching approved colors to the newly painted exteriors of houses.
As much as they tended to ridicule the restrictions, however, there was no mistaking the effect of the watchdog effort. Even with the storm approaching, there was a quiet serenity to the Gables, a sense of stability and longevity that was lacking in most other hastily developed and haphazardly planned sections of the county.
Or there would have been if it hadn’t been for those newly erected walls with their security gates surrounding half a dozen houses within a handful of blocks. The decorative wrought iron gates to the Lafferty house stood open and a circular brick driveway was crowded with cars. An unobtrusive security guard, his uniform clearly distinguishing him from the visitors, stood in the shadows partway between the front gate and the door to the house.
“Quite a crowd,” Molly said, smiling at him in the hope of starting a conversation that might reveal exactly what he was doing on the premises.
He nodded, his expression unyielding. Definitely not the friendly sort, she conceded reluctantly. Maybe Liza would have better luck. She nudged her as they walked from the only available parking place at the end of the driveway.
However distracted she might otherwise be, Liza was quick to catch on to Molly’s intention. She, too, beamed at the guard. “Lucky for you the rain hasn’t started, isn’t it?”
The guard was neither so old nor so blind that a woman as stunning and vivacious as Liza couldn’t get to him. He sucked in his substantial gut and shrugged indifferently. “When it pours, I just wait it out in my car. I can see most everything from there.”
“Is there much to see?” Liza asked. “Seems to me the neighborhood ought to be pretty quiet.”
“Seems that way to me, too,” he confided, suddenly turning loquacious under Liza’s less than subtle encouragement. “Then again, if folks didn’t get paranoid, where would I be? Out of a job.”
“What on earth did the Laffertys have to be paranoid about?” Liza prodded. “They were one of the nicest, most respectable couples I know. What happened to Tessa was a real tragedy. Do you think it had anything to do with whatever they were worried about?”
Molly waited to see if Liza’s fishing expedition would turn up anything, but before the guard could answer, the front door opened and half a dozen people emerged, effectively destroying the moment as they went to their separate cars. The guard’s expression turned stoic again, and his eyes focused on some point in the distance. Apparently he’d seen how the guards at Buckingham Palace did it, Molly thought.
An old black woman, her hair cut short, her uniform so starched it looked downright uncomfortable, admitted Molly and Liza and led them down the long tiled entryway toward the back of the house.
“Mr. Roger’s seeing folks in the garden room,” she said with old-style formality. “It’s a sad time in this house, a sad time,” she added with a shake of her head.
“I’m sure it is,” Molly said kindly, sensing the housekeeper truly was distraught. “Have you worked for the Laffertys for a long time?”
“Worked for Miz Tessa since she was a girl. Her family hired me straight out of high school. Good people they were, too. Helped me educate my brothers and sisters. Miz Tessa had her flaws, but she did right by me. Ain’t nobody going to say otherwise,” she said in a combative tone.
Molly wondered who she’d heard criticizing her employer and whether the remarks had been made before or after Tessa’s death. “Has someone said something unkind about Mrs. Lafferty?”
“Those reporters,” she said huffily. “Looking for scandal, so they are. Asking about other men. I wouldn’t tell them a thing and I know plenty, believe you me.”
Molly decided she didn’t want to be lumped in a class with the nosy media in the eyes of this prospective fountain of information. She already had sufficient clues about Tessa’s marital infidelities to keep her going for a while. “Will you stay on with Mr. Lafferty?” she asked instead.
“We ain’t talked about it yet. If he wants me here, I’ll stay. If not, I’ve got me a little place to go home to. I’m seventy years old. Might just be time I retired and set a spell. Miz Tessa, she took care of me in her will. She always promised me that. With that and the Social Security, I’ll do okay.”
She opened the door to the garden room. “You ladies go on in and sit with Mr. Roger now. I’ll be bringing a fresh-brewed pitcher of iced tea shortly.”
“Thank you,” Liza told her. “What’s you
r name?”
“I’m Josiah, ma’am, after my daddy. Miz Tessa called me Josie.”
Liza patted her frail hand. “Thank you, Josie.”
Molly barely noted the housekeeper’s departure. She was too busy staring into the garden room, which had obviously gotten its name from the French doors across the back facing a garden lush with tropical foliage. The theme had been carried over in the white wicker furniture, which was luxuriously padded with chintz-covered cushions splashed with bouquets of pink cabbage roses.
A large, glass-topped wicker table held silver trays laden with tiny sandwiches, painstakingly cut into rounds, along with a punch bowl filled with fresh fruit, and serving plates crowded with freshly baked tarts and petits fours. The spread might have been catered, but Molly suspected Josie had spent all day Sunday lovingly preparing the refreshments for the mourners who might stop by.
As enthralled as she was with the room and the buffet, what really snagged Molly’s complete attention and had her scrambling for an explanation was the unlikely trio of men who sat stiffly in a row, like some sort of tribunal waiting to hand down a judgment.
Perhaps it was no more than a fluke of available seating, but lined up side by side were Roger Lafferty, Hernando Viera, and Clark Dupree. Their presence together created something of a quandary, given what Molly knew of their respective relationships with Tessa. What would Miss Manners say under the circumstances? Molly wondered, glancing at the only other people in the room, the Willoughbys, to see how they were handling the awkward situation. There was no outward evidence that they were unnerved. Either they weren’t aware of the ties each man had shared with Tessa or they traveled in more sophisticated circles than Molly. Or perhaps, given their stiff, silent demeanor, they’d simply been struck dumb by the audacity of it.
Molly finally settled for offering her condolences without looking any one of the men in the eye. Let them guess who she genuinely felt sorry for, she thought irritably. While they were doing that, she would try to figure out why they were engaged in this oddly polite charade of camaraderie.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Roger Lafferty’s dazed expression never changed as Liza and Molly recited all the appropriately sympathetic clichés. Molly couldn’t help wondering if he was on medication, though she supposed it was possible he was simply in a state of shock. Everyone else seemed to be. Only Hernando Viera actually looked healthy in all that basic black mourning attire, and even he looked stunned.
In fact, the only person in the room to react visibly to their arrival was Mary Ann Willoughby, who determinedly latched on to Liza’s arm and dragged her away from Roger. Molly gathered she wasn’t pleased to see them. Molly traipsed after Mary Ann and Liza to be there in case tempers flared … or on the off chance that Mary Ann might let something interesting slip. Tessa’s best friend wasn’t known for censoring her tongue, despite her regular efforts to soothe feathers Tessa had ruffled with even less diplomacy.
“How dare you come here?” Mary Ann demanded in an undertone. She practically shook with indignation. Obviously she took her new role as Roger’s protector quite seriously.
“I need to speak with Roger,” Liza said, remaining amazingly calm in the face of the older woman’s self-righteous outrage.
“Absolutely not. If you had a sensitive bone in your body, you would see that he’s in no shape to speak with anyone, least of all one of Tessa’s enemies.”
Liza drew herself up to her full height. It was an unimpressive five feet two inches, but she managed to create an aura of a much taller woman. “I was not Tessa’s enemy,” she declared evenly, looking Mary Ann straight in the eye. “Even though we didn’t always agree on the best methods for accomplishing our goals, we did agree on the goals.”
“You tried to undermine her every chance you got. I watched you do it. Who knows what lengths you might have gone to to grab her power,” Mary Ann said so viciously that Molly gasped and prepared to intercede. Liza waved her off.
Mary Ann went on, her venom unchecked. “Now you think just because Tessa’s gone and you have Jason Jeffries eating out of your hand that you’ll take over. Well, believe me, it won’t happen. Not over my dead body.”
“Given what you apparently think I’m capable of, I’m surprised you’d plant that idea in my mind,” Liza retorted.
Mary Ann’s shocked, faintly dismayed expression indicated she hadn’t realized the severity of the charge she’d leveled at Liza. She’d practically accused her of Tessa’s murder. Her gasp drew the attention of the men, but Liza paid no attention to the sudden mild commotion. She strode across the room and took the seat next to Roger.
“I really am sorry to bother you, but I’d like to make a request.”
Roger blinked several times as if trying to bring her into focus. “Now? Must it be now?”
After a slight hesitation, Liza rested her hand on his. Molly wondered about that infinitesimal delay. Liza was a toucher. Her natural inclination was to pat a cheek or a hand, to give a quick hug of reassurance. Why had she just checked that impulse with Roger? Molly had never seen anyone more in need of comforting. To her astonishment, the normally effusive Liza didn’t seem willing to dispense any.
“Yes,” she said in a brisk, no-nonsense tone. “It really can’t wait.”
He sighed heavily, the sound like a child’s round plastic inner tube deflating. “Go ahead then.”
“I wondered if you would consider establishing a memorial fund in Tessa’s honor, a fund that would take up where she left off in supporting environmental causes. I can’t think of anything that would please her more.”
Roger stared blankly, but Hernando Viera was already nodding. “That is a very thoughtful idea, Ms. Hastings,” he said in English that was precise and barely accented. His mastery of his second language was an accomplishment in which he took great pride. “I could make the arrangements at the bank for you, Roger. What do you say? Tessa would like knowing that her beliefs won’t die with her.”
With all the attention focused on him, Roger Lafferty finally shrugged. “What does it matter? Do what you like.”
“You’ve made the right decision,” Carl Willoughby told him gently. “Tessa really would be pleased.”
Even Mary Ann Willoughby gave Liza a look of grudging admiration. “Yes,” she agreed. “Tessa would be pleased.”
Liza nodded in satisfaction. “Actually, it was Caroline’s idea. I know she’ll be delighted that you all agree that it’s the perfect memorial for Tessa.”
The only person who had said nothing through all of the discussion was Clark Dupree. With his mouth set in an angry line, he looked as if he wanted to squash the whole idea, but knew he didn’t dare given the enthusiasm of the others in the room.
Molly couldn’t resist. “What do you think, Mr. Dupree?”
His furious gaze settled on her, but his tone was temperate, the tone of a man used to masking his emotions in the courtroom. “My opinion doesn’t really matter. It’s Roger’s decision. He must do what he thinks best.”
Roger glanced at him, his expression slowly shifting from bemusement into something that might have been pure hatred. “Yes. It is my decision, isn’t it?” He sat up just a little straighter. “Thank you for reminding me of that, Clark. You must go ahead with the memorial fund, Ms. Hastings. You and Hernando can work out the details.”
Suddenly the air crackled with tension. It was hardly unexpected given those present, but it was as if all the pent-up emotions of the past forty-eight hours had finally been unleashed. As much as she wanted to know which one of these people was capable of killing Tessa, Molly couldn’t wait to leave. Neither, apparently, could Liza.
The instant she had Roger’s solid approval for the memorial, she was on her feet. Hernando Viera followed her to the front door. Molly straggled along behind, just in case tempers finally snapped in the garden room. Unfortunately, the only voice she heard was that of Mary Ann Willoughby, who apparently didn’t have sense en
ough to know when to keep her mouth shut. Three male voices all chimed in to tell her.
“I will call you later with an account number,” Hernando promised Liza as Molly joined them. “I know you and Tessa didn’t always see eye to eye, but it’s a wonderful thing you are doing for her memory.”
“Hernando, you were very close to Tessa,” Molly said in what she considered to be a masterful bit of understatement. “Had she been worried about anything lately?”
He regarded her with a look of puzzlement. “You are thinking she suspected she was about to be murdered?” he said.
“Something like that. They did just recently hire additional security guards here, didn’t they?”
His expression hardened. “That had nothing to do with Tessa,” he said tersely. “Now I must get back. Ms. Hastings, I will call you.”
“Why do you suppose he got all testy when I asked about the security guard?” Molly wondered aloud as they walked to their car. Said security guard was nowhere in sight. Either he’d gone off duty or he was patrolling the grounds.
“Maybe because your timing was off. Perhaps he didn’t like being reminded that all the precautions had been wasted.”
“Or maybe I hit on the one thing that would help explain how Tessa ended up in Biscayne Bay on Saturday night.”
“Did you see that look between Roger Lafferty and Clark Dupree?” Liza said, abruptly changing the subject. “There is definitely no love lost between the two of them.”
“What do you expect? They were best friends until Clark started shacking up with Tessa. That would certainly put a strain on the relationship. I’m surprised Clark had the nerve to show up here today.”
Liza shook her head. “That’s precisely why I think it’s something more than that. It’s like neither trusts what the other one would do if left to his own devices.”
“So, what do you think is behind the distrust?”
“How would I know? Clark’s not the only man Tessa ever had an affair with. Hell, she’d had one with Hernando, too, and you didn’t see that violent reaction between Roger and him.”
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