Killing Kelly
Page 26
“No! No, thanks!”
Kelly ran out, hoping that someone would pay her tab. She hesitated briefly, looking back for Doug, but she didn’t see him and knew she couldn’t wait.
She rushed down the dock, yelling, “Harry! You’ve got to get me back to the island!”
He dropped his paper, taken by surprise. “What? Now? But the other folks are all…”
“Harry!” She actually hit him on the shoulder. “My dog is sick. Get me back to that island!”
“All right, all right!” he muttered, and hurried to release the tie ropes.
“What have you got?” Doug asked his brother. “Are you headed down?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m driving down. And you may be fired.”
“From the video?”
“No, from your day job, remember? Moonlight Sonata studios, my wife’s place.”
“Why?”
“I had to bring roses to a woman I know at the phone company. Shannon definitely arched a brow at that, but I did come up with a lot of paperwork.”
“I won’t be fired.”
“Don’t kid yourself. Shannon likes to get those roses herself.”
“What did you get?”
“Interesting information. First, the threatening call you received for Kelly came from a phone booth on the beach, just as we suspected.”
“That’s no surprise.”
Quinn continued. “My friend talks to a lot of her cohorts at other companies. You know, the concept of getting ‘phone records’ isn’t what it used to be. Hell, everyone is with a different company. And everyone has a cell phone.”
“But have you got anything?”
“A lot I could probably get arrested for.”
“Quinn, what have you got?”
Doug paced the restaurant parking lot as he waited for the information. As he wandered over to a shady area secluded by a bunch of sea grapes, he saw a number of people beginning to wander out of Vinnie’s. He wasn’t in the mood for any of the really cordial invitations others in the group were handing out.
“To start, all I can get on Lance Morton, as far as Ohio goes, is that he calls two numbers in Sandusky. One is his mother’s house. The other number belongs to an old girlfriend. Apparently they’ve stayed in touch.”
“How do you know that?”
“I called her.”
“You called her?”
“I told her I was a reporter doing research on his background.”
“Go on.”
“They were a hot item once, but he cheated on her and she gave him his walking papers. The guy tried to make it up to her, but she was obstinate. Now she’s not so sure she did the right thing—she believes he’s going to be big-time.”
“Okay, so he had a bad breakup with his girlfriend.”
“Well, this may or may not mean anything, but she contributed to her school paper at the time. She wrote an advice column. And, listen to this. She said that once, when they had a big fight, he got violent.”
“How violent?”
“Shoved her around. She told everyone and he was nearly arrested, but she didn’t press charges.”
“But they’re friends now?”
“So she says.”
“The guy is a dick,” Doug muttered.
“Careful. You may have decided you just don’t like him, but that doesn’t make him a killer.”
“I know that.”
He was vaguely aware of the sounds of car motors and boat motors revving around him. Staring out at the parking lot, he saw Mel Alton deep in conversation with Marc Logan.
“What else have you got?” Doug asked.
“A fair amount. I’ll give you a couple of quick pieces of information Liam Murphy dug up in California.”
“Talk to me.”
“Mel Alton.”
“He was in Ohio, too?”
“No. Again, this may or may not mean anything, but his ex-wife intends to take him back to court.”
“Child support?”
“And more alimony. She believes she deserves more, having supported him through college. She’s claiming that her support of him curtailed her own possible future and income. I have more papers, too. Pages and pages of them. Lots of phone records on anyone I could think of and have a hope of obtaining. I didn’t think you wanted to get faxes at the resort, so I got Liam to send the stuff from his end to me. I have it all for you. Actually, I have more than you asked for, but sure as hell nothing that’s a bull’s-eye.”
“What else can you tell me quickly?” As he watched the scene in the parking lot, Mel broke away from Logan and headed to his rental car—a dark green Buick sedan. Behind him, Logan was walking toward a Lincoln Continental. Black.
“Liam must have some really good friends at the phone companies out there,” Quinn continued. “He pulled the records for Dana Sumter’s house, cell and place of business. He figures her killer must have called in when she was giving out her advice.”
Lance Morton appeared in the parking lot, his arm around a pretty camera girl. She was laughing, flushed with the excitement of being with him. He headed toward a dark blue, muddied Oldsmobile.
“Anyway, I have scores of numbers and addresses.”
“Good.”
“Remember your questions about Matt Avery?”
“Yes?”
“Apparently his mother had been socking money away for years. Where it came from can’t be traced. And get this. He’s out of town a lot, ‘working’ vacations. And guess where he takes those vacations?”
“Where?”
“An old family mansion in Palm Beach.”
“Has he been there recently?”
“According to his secretary, he’s out of town now. But she won’t say where he is.”
“Thanks.”
“All right. I’ll see—”
The phone suddenly went dead in Doug’s hand. He swore softly but knew that Quinn had probably driven into an area where there was no satellite reception. He tried to call his brother’s number back but was immediately switched over to the answering machine. He swore again, clicked his phone shut and started back into the restaurant.
The table he had been sharing with Mel and Kelly was empty. Most of the other tables had cleared out as well. He recognized two members of the crew and asked them if they’d seen Kelly. They hadn’t. One of them had seen her on the phone a while back, but they hadn’t seen her since. He swore again. Where the hell had she gone? Sweat broke out on his brow.
“Hey!” the production assistant he had talked to earlier called. “She might have gone back to the island. The launch left kind of suddenly.”
“Thanks!”
He walked out to the dock. The launch was indeed gone. Trying to suppress a surge of panic, he dialed her cell number. To his amazement, he heard a phone ringing by his feet. He looked down and saw that Kelly’s cell had fallen on the planks. Either she had dropped it in her haste to get somewhere, or…someone had forced her onto the launch.
He dialed the hotel number, gritting his teeth as he went through the automatic response system that would let him key in her room number. His feeling of unease nearly exploded. The room number rang and rang and rang.
There was only one boat at the dock, a small, beaten-to pieces little motorboat. He hurried back into the restaurant. “Hey, anybody know who owns the boat out here?” A fellow with gray hair down his back and a Grateful Dead T-shirt answered.
“It’s mine. You want to make something out of it?”
“No. I want to pay you to use it.”
The fellow perked up. “How much? How long do you want it for?”
“I don’t know—the day, I guess.”
The man named an exorbitant price. “Hell, you take credit cards?” Doug asked.
“What you got?”
Doug opened his wallet, sifting through the bills. He offered a wad to the man. “Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll leave it, ’cause you’re desperate.”
“Shit! Pay me. I ain’t goin’ nowheres today, anyhow!” he said, handing Doug a key. “She’s worth a small fortune, you know!”
“Like hell!” Doug called back as he left the restaurant.
He raced back to the dock, slipped the ties and turned the key in the ignition. Halfway across the water, he was swearing again. The motor was pathetic. He could have swum more quickly. He could see the little islet in front of him, but he couldn’t reach it fast enough.
Kelly couldn’t believe how sick Sam had gotten so quickly, but it was true. He looked liked hell. She’d tried to call O’Casey when she got on the launch, but realized that she’d dropped her cell. And she had meant to call when she reached the room, but after one look at Sam, she didn’t remember anything.
“I gotta get him to a vet, fast,” she told Jane. Sam didn’t growl at her; he whimpered pathetically. His eyes were glazed and he continued to foam at the mouth.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Jane agreed.
He was a big, heavy dog. Kelly went to scoop him up in her arms.
“I can try to help you,” Jane said nervously.
“No…no, just go ahead of me, will you? Get Harry and tell him we’re heading back to the island.”
“Of course!”
Kelly moved as quickly as she could with Sam in her arms. When she reached the dock area, Harry was just coming in.
“You’ve got to get me to the closest vet,” Kelly told him.
“What? He probably just ate some grass or something. If you—”
“Get her to a vet!” Jane shouted.
Surprised, Kelly glanced at Jane, who shrugged. “I’ll come with you.”
“No, you wait here. Tell O’Casey where I am. Hey, where will I be?” she asked Harry. “Hurry!”
He gave them a mile-marker number and Kelly hurried to the launch, carefully balancing as Harry tried to help her while keeping his hands and digits far from Sam’s head.
“Hey! My car’s the little silver BMW in the rear of the lot,” Jane said, tossing the keys at Kelly. Harry caught them just in time.
“Go! Go! Go!” Kelly yelled.
Doing the best he could to get power out of the beat-up boat, O’Casey was startled when he saw the launch from the island whipping by him. The wake tossed him heavily. It looked as if Harry Sullivan was the only one aboard. With one hand on the helm, he pulled out his cell. He dialed the hotel, swore again as he waited for the recorded message and keyed in the room number. Still no answer.
He was closer to the island than the docks at Vinnie’s. By coaxing the engine, he could be there in a matter of minutes.
The dock was empty. The entire island seemed to be empty. He raced through the main house of the hotel, out the back, to Kelly’s room. The door was ajar. He flew toward it, pushed it open. And heard a scream.
CHAPTER 25
The folks at Vinnie’s were great. One of the waiters rushed to the dock, ready to help her, but she warned him that Sam wasn’t himself.
“Is there anything I can do?” the fellow asked.
“Yes, thank you! Harry, toss him the keys, please.” With Sam in her arms, she used her head as an indicator. “Can you run ahead and open a silver BMW for me?” she asked, and the fellow obliged.
“Harry, let Doug O’Casey know where I am!” she called over her shoulder. She didn’t know if Harry answered her or not.
The waiter opened both the back and front doors for her, and she carefully laid Sam in the back. As she got into the driver’s seat, thanking the waiter again and taking the keys back, she noted that O’Casey’s car was still in the parking lot. She could write him a note. Except that…she didn’t have time. Sam was barely panting anymore, barely breathing.
And O’Casey! Damn him. Where the hell had he been when she needed him? He’d taken one of his secretive phone calls and simply disappeared. But she couldn’t worry about him. Not now. Not when tears were nearly blinding her and she had to get help for Sam.
She gunned the motor, jerked the car into gear and headed for the exit. For a moment she was disoriented, trying to decide which way was north, which was south.
Right! she screamed at herself mentally. There’s only one road. And she was stuck behind a Sunday driver. She honked the horn, but the car drew more to a crawl, probably assuming she was just being an ass.
The opposing traffic was heavy, so she prayed for a passing lane.
Finally one came up and she gunned the engine, sweeping around the slow mover. Clutching the wheel in a death grip, she leaned over, desperately looking for the mile-marker signs and any sign that would indicate the vet’s office.
She nearly drove past it, then came to a dead stop in the middle of the road. She heard brakes screeching behind her, and as she pulled into the lot, someone cussed at her from an open car window. She ignored the words, desperately throwing open the back door and reaching in for Sam. And with him in her arms, she burst into the office.
It was a small but friendly-looking place, with light blue walls that were hand-painted with creatures—puppies, kittens and fish. She rushed to the counter, where a young woman with a blue streak in her dark hair was sitting, talking on the phone.
“One moment, please. You can take a seat,” she told Kelly.
Stunned, Kelly stared at her. Then, somehow balancing Sam, she managed to reach over the counter, grip the receiver, jerk it from the girl’s hand and return it the cradle. “Sorry. I’m really sorry. But I need help. Please…my dog is dying!”
“Oh, my God! You scared me to death!” Jane cried.
Doug stared at her. He didn’t bother telling her that her scream had surely scared him just as badly. He didn’t think it was possible to feel a greater sense of unease.
“Where’s Kelly?” he asked, his heart thundering.
“She took Sam to the vet. She’s all right,” Jane said quickly. “But something was terribly wrong with Sam. He was foaming, Doug. And I couldn’t do anything because he wouldn’t let me near him.”
“Foaming?”
“He must have gotten into something on the island. I don’t know, a plant…a dead fish. Something. He was violently ill. But Kelly has him and Harry was taking them back to the mainland so she can take Sam to a vet.”
“Where?” Doug demanded.
She gave him the mile marker. He turned to leave, then spun back.
“Why was this door open?” he demanded.
“Damn it, Doug, I had just walked back in!” Jane said.
“Get in and lock it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir!” she said resentfully.
He didn’t have time to apologize or explain his misgivings. Sure, Sam might have gotten into something. But in his present state of mind, Doug didn’t believe it. Sam had been poisoned.
He gave Jane a last look. “Lock yourself in!” Then he raced back to the dock, where the pathetic piece-of-shit motorboat awaited him. Since Harry wasn’t back with the launch, he had no choice. Swearing, he hopped back in.
Halfway back to the main island, the motor sputtered, coughed and died. He cranked it again and again, but to no avail. And there was no other vessel on the water to be seen! He looked to the sky. Pretty soon the sun was going to begin to set. Then he kicked off his shoes, stripped off his shirt and dived in.
The receptionist, realizing Sam’s shape, jumped up and called for the vet. He appeared, running out from his inner offices at the commotion. One look at Sam and he knew there was serious trouble.
“Excuse me, folks,” he apologized to his waiting clients and patients. He strode straight to Kelly and reached for Sam.
“I’ve…I’ve got him. I can carry him!” she said. She was afraid that, in Sam’s present condition, he would try to bite the hand that was trying to help him.
“Miss, let me take him,” the vet said firmly.
“He could…he w
ouldn’t usually…he could bite.”
“I think I’m all right.”
Sam didn’t make any attempt to bite, for he had gotten far too weak. His head lolled as the vet carried him straight back into one of his patient rooms.
A big fellow tried to stop her from following, blocking her way, speaking in gentle tones. “The vet can handle him from here. It might not be pretty. He’s in a bad way.”
“I have to come in!” Kelly cried.
“If she wants to come in, let her,” the vet called back.
The following minutes were a nightmare for Kelly, yet she knew she would never be able to express her gratitude to the man who worked on Sam. Tests might determine what had brought him to his state near death; for the moment, it was important only to get it out of his system.
Sam struggled only slightly as he was hit with a needle. Silent tears slipped down Kelly’s cheeks as the vet, a burly assistant at his side, worked to pump Sam’s stomach. It was horrible. But when the vet had done what he could, he said the words that Kelly longed to hear. “He’s still breathing and his pulse is steady, but he’s weak and exhausted. I’m going to have to keep him overnight.”
“I can’t leave him!” Kelly said.
“Please, he won’t really be alone. I’ll watch him through the night, I swear. I live in back. And if I need anything for him, the office is right here.”
Kelly burst into tears and would have sunk to the ground if the vet hadn’t grabbed her.
“I’ll do everything I can for him. He looks like a fighter. Come on out now and let us get a little information from you. Jimmy will make him comfortable.” Jimmy was apparently the huge bear of a man who had tried to stop her, but who was as gentle and tender with Sam as an angel.
The vet continued. “Sam will sleep now. We’ve taken some samples from him and we’ll run some tests, find out what caused this.”
She managed to nod, and for the first time, she really saw the fellow. He was about fifty, with kind brown eyes and dark, graying hair. He was tanned and lined, as if he lived in the sun and didn’t give a damn about the effects. There was something very solid and reassuring about him. His name was Dr. Emil Garcia.