Death Rides the Surf

by Nora charles

  “I understand,” Marlene said.

  Kate prayed she did.

  “Dinner’s here.” A woman’s voice shouted from the hall.

  Roberto leapt from his chair and opened the door.

  An old lady, balancing two pizza boxes and a six-pack of Diet Coke, entered. She wore a lavender sweat suit and her perfectly coiffed hair looked like a wig. Huge diamonds dangled from her earlobes, neck, and wrist.

  Roberto’s face sparkled like the old lady’s jewels. As Marlene had said, lots of odd couples in this case.

  Kate checked out the woman’s eyes. Yes! She was about to meet Diamond Lil. Damn. Where had she seen those eyes before?

  Katharine stirred, then woke up crying.

  Kate ran over and held her granddaughter close, murmuring, “It’s okay. Everything will be okay, darling.”

  “Nana, I’m so sorry. He grabbed me after Marlene had dropped me off at church. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. He put something over my face and shoved me in the trunk.” Katharine sobbed. “No one saw us, Nana. The parking lot was empty.”

  “It’s okay,” Kate said again. Why did she keep saying that when everything was so wrong?

  “Stop crying, Katharine,” Roberto said. “We all want to enjoy our dinner, don’t we?”

  As Diamond Lil served the pizza, Kate noticed her hands. Nary a vein, a sunspot, or a dry patch. Not an old lady’s hands. They were the smooth, tanned-to-perfection hands of a teenage girl.

  Forty

  Friday morning, November 3

  This could be the last day of my life, Kate thought as she awoke from a fitful sleep in the chintz chair. The last day of Katharine’s life. She remained still, her eyes closed, fighting an urge to check on her granddaughter. She didn’t want her kidnappers to know she was awake. Kidnap. What a strange verb to describe such a horrific crime. Children weren’t the only ones abducted, grabbed off the street, taken from their beds, and held against their will. Kate, a senior citizen, and Katharine, a college student, had been kidnapped. Kidnap was a misnomer.

  Murder, on the other hand, was an all-inclusive verb.

  Kate felt helpless, frightened. She no longer had control over her destiny; she could only pray that Marlene had gotten her message. She asked St. Jude to give her strength. And maybe a small miracle.

  “Wake up,” Roberto said as he shook her shoulder.

  Kate opened her eyes and glanced at her watch. Six thirty. Beyond those drawn drapes, the sun was coming up and early risers, with freedom of choice, had started their day.

  Six thirty. If Marlene had understood Kate’s message, the police should have been here by now. Had she seen her last sunrise? An inner voice scolded: get hold of yourself. Don’t give up.

  Katharine snored softly. Kate’s fear was replaced with anger as she stared at her granddaughter. She turned to Roberto. “What did you give her?”

  He shrugged, seeming to realize that whatever he told Kate wouldn’t matter if his plan worked, and he was arrogant enough to be sure it would. “Equal parts Tylenol PM and water.”

  God, when help arrived, she’d take Katharine to the hospital. Kate smiled, and a small giggle escaped: she’d thought when, not if.

  “Something is funny, señora?”

  “An inside joke, Roberto.”

  The bathroom door opened and a beautiful young redhead in white shorts, a T-shirt, and no shoes walked out.

  Amanda Rowling, the missing co-ed, was alive and well, and Roberto’s partner in crime. She had her mother’s eyes.

  Amanda must have dyed her hair red so she could pass for Katharine when she cashed Marlene’s cashier’s check for over $350,000. She’d have Katharine’s driver’s license, student ID, and credit cards. Kate had spotted her granddaughter’s handbag on the bureau.

  “Would you like a cup of tea, Kate?” the girl asked, and then poured boiling water from an ancient coffeemaker into two mugs.

  Kate sipped her tea, watching in silent, sick fascination as Amanda transformed herself into Diamond Lil.

  Grace Rowling had told Kate what a great actress her daughter was. She was also a great makeup artist, using gray eye shadow to create dark bags and the illusion of wrinkles. She even used cotton balls to make her face fatter. Roberto taped pillows to her breasts, buttocks, and thighs. Dark tights covered those slim, tanned legs. When Amanda pulled on her frumpy housedress, she looked lumpy in all the right—or wrong—places. She stepped into Dr. Scholl’s sandals, winking at Kate. She adjusted her white wig and topped it with a tiara. Her transformation was complete. Amanda Rowling had become Diamond Lil.

  Kissing Roberto on the cheek, she pushed him away as he tried for her lips. “Stop, you’ll mess up my makeup.” They both laughed at what had to be their private joke. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way back.”

  Diamond Lil left the Casablanca Motel at seven fifteen, allowing more than enough time to arrive in Palmetto Beach by eight.

  If Roberto’s plan worked, and Amanda got the check and cashed it on her way back to the motel, Kate figured she and Katharine had about an hour and a half to live.

  Kate sat in the dirty chintz chair, trying to disappear into its flowers.

  Katharine slept and neither Roberto nor Kate spoke.

  At eight fifteen, Roberto, the gun in his shirt pocket, paced as Kate boiled water to make a cup of tea for Katharine. The girl had awakened about five minutes ago and had heeded her grandmother’s index finger to her lip as a signal to keep quiet.

  Amanda could be calling any minute, authorizing Katharine and Kate’s death warrant.

  Kate poured the hot water into a mug. Should she try to grab the gun? Yell for Katharine to run and save herself? Kate had to try. Now.

  Something crashed through the widow facing the beach. The drapes billowed, and then parted, revealing a man’s arm. Behind Kate and Roberto, the door made a wheezing sound, then burst open.

  Roberto swung around, aiming the gun at Kate. She threw the hot water in his face as Katharine screamed, and Nick Carbone yelled, “Freeze!”

  Marlene had gotten the message.

  Epilogue

  Saturday morning, November 4

  “Kate, did you know the police checked out one hotel, two restaurants, and three motels in Broward and Dade Counties, all called Casablanca?” Marlene held up her mimosa. “A toast to classic movies and their great dialogue.”

  “Yes, Nick told me.” Kate smiled at the detective who sat to her right. “And I’d thought there was only one Casablanca.”

  Kevin and Jennifer had insisted on hosting a brunch at the Boca Raton Hotel to celebrate Kate and Katharine’s safe return.

  Katharine had told Kate, “Mom wants to make nice with Detective Carbone.”

  They were sitting on the hotel’s elegant terrace, being served delicious food on beautiful china, sipping drinks from crystal glasses, and watching a surfer trying to catch a wave in the aquamarine water of the Atlantic Ocean.

  “And I understand the police arrested Amanda in the Sun Trust parking lot,” Kate said.

  “That was such fun,” Marlene said. “I handed her an empty envelope and they carted her off. Her white wig fell off.”

  Katharine laughed. “Even with red hair, Amanda wouldn’t look anything like me, ID or not.”

  “Roberto would have killed you and Katharine, Nana,” Lauren said. “He’s a sociopath.” There were a few of them running around Palmetto Beach, Kate thought. “He killed Grace because that private detective she’d hired had found out about Roberto’s smuggling operation and he slit his rich mistress’s throat because she’d served her purpose.”

  “I think Grace may have been murdered because she’d discovered her daughter wasn’t dead,” Kate said. “She probably saw through Amanda’s Diamond Lil disguise, recognized her daughter’s eyes. They were so like Grace’s.”

  “Detective Carbone, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you I’d gone to Grace Rowling’s room on Monday night,” Jennifer said. “I thought Jon Micha
el might harm Katharine and that Grace knew more than she’d told me. I made a bad judgment call, the deal in Bangkok was coming to a head, and I didn’t want to be stuck in Palmetto Beach as a prime suspect.”

  Kevin, who was sitting between his wife and his younger daughter, put an arm around each of them.

  Katharine reached over and patted her mother’s hand. Nick just grunted.

  “Talking about sociopaths,” Marlene said, changing the subject. “Amanda aided and abetted her own mother’s murder.”

  “But Jon Michael was murdered because Roberto had overheard me talking about my inheritance.” Katharine sounded ashamed

  “Well, that was one reason. It’s complicated,” Nick said. “Jon Michael believed that Amanda had been murdered and he was the prime suspect. He also believed Roberto was his friend who’d protected him and given him an alibi. He felt he owed Roberto big-time. Then he found out Amanda was alive and Roberto had been using him. Jon Michael became a threat. Roberto wasn’t about to divide the money three ways. And hell, Roberto had Claude begging to become a smuggler. Roberto rigged the wire cage’s opening so the pig’s blood would seep out of the plastic bag and into the ocean.”

  “Now it’s over,” Jennifer said, and turned to her daughter. “Are you coming home?”

  Kate heard the nervousness in her daughter-in-law’s voice.

  “Yes,” Katharine said. “I’m going back to NYU. Nana, I’m going to write a screenplay about all this. Want to hear the title?”

  “Yes, darling.” Kate laughed. It felt good.

  “Death Rides the Surf. And I’ll get Mary Tyler Moore and Valerie Harper to play you and Marlene.” Katharine looked at Nick. “And Paul Sorvino can play you.”

  “As long as I get the girl,” Nick said.