by Rose Pressey
As Allison Abbott filled out the check, the office door opened and Dorothy marched in. Dressed in bright green pants and shirt, she looked like a giant margarita. She paused for a moment and frowned when she saw Allison sitting in the chair at my desk. She continued to stare as she moved over to her little desk in the corner. Her mouth remained open as she plopped down on the seat.
Allison tore off the check, drawing my attention back to the situation at hand. “Please let me know what other information you need and how much the fee will be. That should get you started, right?”
I looked down at the check and tried to hide my excitement. Yes, it was definitely enough to get me started. But what would I do first? I needed a full rundown of the events of that morning and the last time she had seen or talked to her husband. I glanced at my watch. Was it too early for lunch? I needed time to devise a plan. Maybe a juicy hamburger would help me think straight. But first I needed to get all the information I could from Allison and to do that I needed to leave the office.
With Dorothy staring at us, I couldn’t concentrate on the questions I needed to ask.
“Would you like to step outside to the beach? You can answer a few questions and I’ll let you get on your way.” I motioned toward the door.
She nodded and pushed to her feet. “Sure.”
Dorothy frowned at me and mouthed something that I couldn’t understand as I followed Allison out the door. I’d deal with Dorothy’s twenty questions later.
Allison and I stepped out into the bright sunshine. The seagulls shrieked, still hovering around the area, but there seemed to be a few less today. The sun was already hot, covering my exposed skin in warmth.
We stepped out onto the sand and it squished under my feet. The waves lapped lazily at the shore. We walked for a moment before I spoke.
Finally, I said, “When was the last time you saw your husband?”
“The last time I saw him was the day before he was murdered. He was relentlessly asking me questions. I told him I didn’t want to discuss it and I left. When I returned, he’d left a note for me telling me that he’d moved out,” she said with a sigh.
“You said he moved to the condo. That was the place where I found him, right?” I asked.
I hadn’t thought to ask Allison if she knew that I’d discovered the body, but based on her expression, I figured the police had already told her.
She nodded. “Yes. I never knew why he’d bought the place. He let Matt Cooper talk him into it. Arthur always was easily persuaded.”
“Why does that building seem abandoned?” I asked.
“Because it is abandoned.” She glanced over at me.
“What do you mean?”
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Arthur was a stubborn man. He didn’t want to leave that building. The developers offered him a condo in the tower next door, but he declined to take it. Everyone else who lived in the building took the offer, but Arthur refused to take the deal. The owner had lost a lot of money on the tower because he couldn’t sell all the units. Like I said, Arthur was stubborn like that. The owner of the building wasn’t happy with him because of that.”
Would the owner of the condo building do something drastic to Arthur? I’d have to find this man and ask questions.
“Why did the owner want the people to leave the tower?” A wave of water splashed against my ankles.
“They had a buyer for the whole tower, but not if Arthur was still living in his condo.” She glanced over at me.
“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” I said.
“In all fairness, I think Arthur wasn’t getting a good deal on the transaction,” Allison said.
“Is there anything else you can think of? Is there any person who might have done this to your husband?” I pressed.
She looked straight ahead, lost in thought. After a few seconds, she shook her head and said, “I can’t think of anyone. Like I said, the man who owned the building wasn’t happy with him. Matt tried to convince Arthur to take the other condo, but he wouldn’t do it.”
“Do you have the name of the building owner?” I asked.
She waved her hand. “I really didn’t keep up with any of his business transactions, so I’m not sure. I believe his first name was Thomas, but I’m not sure.”
She really was clueless. “Could you find out for me? I’d like to speak with him.”
“Sure, I’ll find out and let you know.” She motioned over her shoulder. “Well, I’d better get going. I have a lot of things to take care of now.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I have information for you,” I said.
I hoped I hadn’t fallen for an act. What if she’d really killed her husband?
Chapter Seven
After leaving Allison, I headed back into my office. Dorothy placed her knitting needles on her desk and glared at me. “What was that all about? Wasn’t that the woman who was cheating?”
I ignored her stare and walked to my desk. “Yes, she wants me to help find her husband’s killer.”
“Oh dear. This is just too strange. I don’t trust these people one bit. First the husband comes in and the next thing you know he’s deader than a doornail, then his crazy wife comes in here. You’d do well if she lost your address and never came back.” She wiggled her finger.
“Dorothy, is that any way to treat a client?” I asked.
“You didn’t agree to take the case did you? Even your crazy Uncle Griffin would have turned her down,” she said.
I shrugged. “I have to do what I have to do. Plus, I’m not Uncle Griffin.”
Dorothy shook her head and started knitting feverishly, all the while mumbling under her breath.
I had little to go on to solve Arthur’s murder, but I’d have to work with what I had. Was the man in the building Arthur’s killer? If so, who was he and how would I find him? If the building was empty other than Arthur’s condo, then it would be unlikely to find anyone else there. Plus, the owner had given me a strange look when I’d mentioned Arthur’s name. Well, I assumed the peculiar man was the owner, but I didn’t know for sure. Allison said the owner of the tower wanted Arthur out. Had that man been the owner? It shouldn’t be too hard to find out.
I needed to speak with Sam Louis and Matt Cooper. It would be an awkward conversation with Sam Louis to say the least. Did Matt Cooper know about the affair? I hoped the police didn’t get in my way. Specifically Jake Jackson.
An hour had passed and after doing a simple Internet search, I had a home address for Sam Louis. I’d stop by and ask him a few questions and find out if he had an alibi. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Dorothy asked.
“I have to ask Sam Louis a few questions to find out if he has an alibi,” I said with my hand on the doorknob.
“Do you think he’ll be honest with you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, but there’s only one way to find out.”
Dorothy grabbed her purse and dumped the knitting needles inside. She rooted around in the bag until finally pulling out a tube of lipstick and little compact mirror.
Smearing the bright red color over her lips, then smacking her mouth together, she looked up at me. “Well, let’s go. I have to plan the Bunco party tonight and want to be back in plenty of time to pick up the alcohol.”
I stared at her for a moment, then said, “I think this is something I should do on my own.”
“Oh, don’t hand me that load of crap. Now let’s go.” She grabbed her bag and marched toward the door.
As I approached my car, the sense of someone following me overwhelmed me, so I whipped around. I would attack the person behind me before they had a chance to attack me. Jake Jackson stood behind me. His eyes widened when he saw my fists in the air in defensive mode. I was trained in self-defense. Well, I’d taken a couple classes. I’d never actually used any of the techniques I’d learned, but I’d use them today if I had to.
“Whoa. What’s goin
g on?” he asked, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Don’t walk up on someone like that. It’s a good way to get punched.” I clutched my chest.
He smiled, but didn’t respond.
“What do you want?” I snapped.
Okay, I was on the defensive already and he’d only uttered a few words.
“You’ve been in contact with Allison Abbott?” he asked.
I folded my arms in front of my chest. “Maybe I have. Why do you ask?”
“She’s been arrested for the murder of her husband, Arthur Abbott,” he said matter-of-factly.
It felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. Jake Jackson had attacked me with his words. What would I do now? How would I continue? Allison was paying me to find the killer, but was I searching in vain?
I shook my head. “She didn’t murder him.”
It had been the first thing I could think to say. For some strange reason I felt as if I had to defend her.
“What makes you think that?” he asked.
“What makes you think that she murdered him?” I countered.
“I can’t give that information to you. This is an active investigation,” he said.
Why hadn’t Allison’s lawyer contacted me? I’d have to call him immediately. I needed to plan my next move though…and quickly. This curveball had taken me off guard.
“Allison has hired me to find her husband’s killer.” I stood a little straighter.
“Well, you can stop your investigation now,” he said.
“What? Are you serious?” I snorted. “I intend on finding the killer.”
“You need only look in the Dade County Jail to find her.” Jake studied my face.
I glared. “You think you’re so clever, but I’m not giving up that easily.”
He ran his hand through his thick black hair. “Look, I’m not trying to give you a hard way to go. I’m just trying to help you.”
I pointed. “I don’t need your help.”
His mouth eased into a teasing smile.
“Why are you smiling at me?” I demanded. “This isn’t a laughing matter.”
“You’re pretty when you’re angry,” he said.
I scoffed. “You can’t be serious?”
That is the last thing I want to hear right now. Okay, it was kind of nice to hear, but I wouldn’t let him know that. It would only encourage this behavior.
“Would you like to grab some lunch and we can discuss this further?” he asked, gesturing over his shoulder.
I quirked a brow. “I have a case to figure out.”
“What makes you so sure that she is innocent?” he asked.
I paused, then said, “Because she told me so.”
He snorted. “You’ve got a lot to learn. All the criminals are innocent, don’t you know?”
“Did you come here just to insult me?”
“What about if I help you out?”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Well, if she’s innocent then I could help you hunt down the real killer.”
There had to be a catch. What was this guy up to?
With my hand on the car door, I said, “But you think the killer has already been caught. I have a case to take care of, now if you’ll excuse me.”
I hopped in my car and backed out. Dorothy set her crossword puzzle book down.
She peered at me over the top of her eyeglasses. “Well, what was that all about? Did he ask you out on a date? You should definitely go.”
“I don’t need a date,” I said, distracted by what had just happened.
When I glanced back, Detective Jackson was still standing there staring at my car. He had that little smile on his face, which just irritated me. Well, it was a little sexy, but that was neither here nor there.
Chapter Eight
I pulled up to the large white stucco home and parked my car at the curb. I wanted to have a fast getaway if need be. With the way things had been going lately, I never knew what might happen. Sprinklers pirouetted on the lawn and the summery scent of freshly mowed grass floated through the air. Large palm trees towered over the front of the house. I walked up the flower-lined pathway to the front door and rang the doorbell.
No one answered, so after a moment, I pushed the doorbell again.
“I’m coming,” someone yelled from the other side of the door.
Finally, the door swung open and a woman looked me up and down with a frown spread across her face. She had dishwater blonde hair and wore black shorts and a pink blouse. Dark circles ringed her big brown eyes.
“I don’t want to donate and I don’t want to buy anything,” she said as she began to close the door.
Why had she even bothered to answer if she was just going to shut the door in my face before finding out what I wanted? That was just rude.
“I’m not here to sell anything and I don’t want your money,” I rushed my words.
She stopped and let out a deep breath, although she didn’t fully open the door again.
“What do you want?” she asked with frustration in her voice.
“I’m here to speak with Sam Louis,” I said with a smile.
I’d figured I’d have better luck speaking with him at his home than dealing with the receptionist-from-hell at the law office.
She looked me up and down. “Who are you?”
I had a decision to make. Should I be truthful with her? Based on the attitude she’d displayed up to this point, I figured she wouldn’t be pleased when I told her who I truly was. Nonetheless, I had to be honest.
“My name is Maggie Thomas. I’m a private investigator doing some work for the law firm,” I said.
Okay, I’d bent the truth a little. It hadn’t been a complete lie though. I had been working for Arthur Abbott before he’d met with an untimely death. Her expression softened. I’d taken a chance, but it looked as if it was going to pay off.
“I’m really sorry,” she said opening the door wide. “I’ve had a bad day.”
If this was Sam’s wife, then I had an idea why she’d had a bad day. Had he told her about his affair?
“I’m sorry but he’s not here,” she said around a sigh.
That was not what I’d wanted to hear. She must have noticed the look of disappointment on my face.
“But I can tell you where to find him. He’s at the country club. It’s the Palms Course. He’ll be there for a while. If you need to speak with him right away, I can call him.” She gestured over her shoulder.
I smiled. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”
He had gone golfing right after his business partner was murdered? And his lover was in jail for the crime? Something was rotten about this scenario and I had to find out what his deal was.
“If you’re sure,” she said.
I could just stop by and speak with him. I needed to have this conversation in person.
I waved my hand. “I can just swing by there. I was headed that way anyway.”
She looked at me suspiciously, but I ignored the expression and took off down the driveway for my car.
When I hopped in, Dorothy said, “She looked snobby. What was her problem?”
“Her husband is having an affair. I’d be in a bad mood too.” I cranked the ignition.
With the name of the club, I pointed my car in the general direction and punched the address into the GPS. After fighting traffic, thirty minutes later, I wheeled the car into the parking lot of the Palms Course. I still couldn’t get over the fact that Sam was at a golf course. His partner had been murdered. Didn’t he care that Allison was in jail? If he claimed to love her as she said, then how could he be so nonchalant about what had happened?
I found a spot at the back and made the trek across the lot with Dorothy in tow. I walked past the valet parking looking at it longingly. Would they let someone who wasn’t a member on the golf course? Did I really want to interrupt his game? Maybe I’d just find out how much
longer he’d be and wait for him. If I could find out how long he’d been on the course, I’d know how much longer he’d be. Who would offer that information to me though?
“I should have worn my golf clothes,” Dorothy said.
“Do you play golf?” I asked.
“No, I just like the look.” She adjusted the pocketbook on her arm.
I stared for a couple seconds, then nodded. “Whatever floats your boat.”
Dorothy eyed me up and down. “We’re going to stand out on the golf course. We should have changed before we came all the way here.”
“We didn’t have time, besides I don’t plan on being here long.”
Dorothy and I made our way across the parking lot, weaving around the golf carts and people with their golf bags. We walked into the lobby and looked around.
“So what’s your plan now, genius?” Dorothy said.
I glared at her. “It just so happens I do have a plan. Thank you.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Well, let’s hear this great plan.”
I cleared my throat. “Okay…we’ll get a golf cart and drive around the course until we find him.”
She snorted. “You can’t be serious.”
I stared at her. “What’s wrong with that plan?”
“Oh, nothing. Please go right ahead.” She waved her arm through the air.
I marched over to the counter and asked where to get a golf cart. The teenage boy pointed me in the right direction. Halfway to the golf carts, I turned around and noticed that Dorothy wasn’t behind me. She was still across the room with her arms folded across her chest.
I stomped back over. “What are you doing? Are you coming with me?”
She stared for a bit, then said, “Just let it be known that I think this is a bad idea. We should just wait until we see him come through here.”
“What if he just started playing? It could be hours.”
She looked at me for a second as if my words were stirring in her head. “I guess you have a point.”
“Okay. Good. Now let’s get a cart.” I motioned for her to follow.
After securing the cart from the teenager behind the counter, I turned around and found that Dorothy had already positioned herself behind the steering wheel.
