“I’m just an innkeeper,” Donna said.
“You’re a smart lady,” Tinkie said. “And a dynamite cook.” She pushed back from the table. “Let’s get to work, Sarah Booth, before I need another nap. Where are we headed?”
“I think our client owes us an explanation.”
17
Erik’s pharmacy was located in the middle of Main Street and was a step back in time—even further back in time than when I was a kid. We pushed through the plate-glass door that had a sticker of a penguin with a KOOL INSIDE notice of air-conditioning. We stepped from current times back to the 1960s and into a pharmacy that was part gift shop, part café, part soda fountain, and part drugstore. The hottest hits of the ’50s and ’60s were piped in.
“I love this place,” Tinkie said. “A soda fountain. Man, I haven’t had a Coke float in years. When we’re finished talking to Erik we can have one.” She pointed to the back of the spacious store where Erik stood on a small platform so he could see throughout the area. Behind him were shelves of pills. I was a little surprised to see him there since I figured the sheriff would still be looking for him.
He waved us back to join him and a cluster of pretty women. They obviously didn’t think he was a killer because they were flirting to beat the band. They all giggled on cue at something he said.
“Erik, the Joe Jefferson Players in Mobile are staging Cabaret. Would you like to go with me? I’ve read the reviews and it’s a fine staging of the show,” a pretty brunette asked.
“No, he can’t do that. He’s going with me to the picnic over in Fairhope,” a honey-blonde said. “I’m making my famous chicken salad. Erik loves it. And some walnut brownies to die for.”
“I’ll check my calendar for both events,” Erik said. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I need to speak with Sarah Booth and Tinkie.”
The young women turned to face us. “You must be the private investigators,” one said. “That’s a cool job. If you need help, I’m available. I’m very good at prying into other people’s business. Some say it’s a real talent.”
“Jessica, let it go.” Erik came around the counter and shook his head at her. “Go tell Adam to make you a banana split or whatever you want.” He shooed them all away. “All of you. The treats are on me.”
Laughing and teasing each other, the young women went over to the soda fountain and perched on stools as they gave the soda jerk their orders. Were it not for their modern attire—shorts, jeans, and leggings—it could have been a scene out of the 1950s.
When we finally had Erik to ourselves, I asked, “Why aren’t you in jail?”
“I went by and talked to Glory. She gave me a pass, just this once.”
“Did you tell her where you were?” I was curious.
“I answered all of her questions until she was satisfied. She understood.”
It would seem that Erik could talk his way out of a lot of serious trouble. Well, he wasn’t going to bamboozle me. Not this time. “Does the name Ana Arguello mean anything to you?” I asked.
Erik went pale. He swallowed hard and motioned for Tinkie and me to follow him through the door that separated the pharmacy area from the rest of the store. Behind that was a storeroom. When we were inside, he closed the door. “Where did you hear about Ana?”
“Oh, we got an earful from Betsy Dell. Remember her? She’s saying you threw Patrice Pepperdine over for a hot Latin dancer and also that you killed a dancer named Johnny Braun.” I was a little hot under the collar about his failure to tell us the truth. It made me wonder what else he might be lying about.
Erik had the decency to look stricken. “I didn’t kill Johnny. Why does she think I killed him?”
“To win the dance title and fifty thousand dollars.”
“That’s a nice motive,” Tinkie threw in.
“That’s ridiculous. I could beat him dancing with one foot in a cast. And Betsy always thought she was far better than she was.”
“How about Patrice? How good was she?”
He looked down at the floor. “She was an excellent dancer. For a woman who never cracked a smile, she could turn it on for a dance competition. Those minutes she was on the dance floor she was fully alive.”
“But this Ana was better?”
“Patrice was skilled at the dances I also excel at. Ana,” he drew in a breath, “she was like dancing with fire. She sizzled, and sometimes she burned. I love dancing with Ana. I love being with her.”
I had a very clear picture why Patrice hated Erik. I didn’t believe he was cruel, but in some ways he’d treated Patrice like an old shoe.
“Did you ask Patrice to marry you?” Tinkie asked.
He shook his head. “Never. But I probably didn’t discourage her thoughts from going in that direction. Until it was too late.”
A sin of omission. “Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Tinkie asked.
Erik finally met her gaze. “I was ashamed. Because I knew I should have been firm when she kept talking about getting married. I never asked and never promised, but I also didn’t state firmly that it wasn’t going to happen. She was my dance partner, and it made us shine that she was a little bit in love with me.”
“A little bit?”
He had the decency to look remorseful. “A lot more than I knew. I thought it was a crush. You know dancers get crushes on each other all the time. It’s part of the competitions. When you’re on the dance floor you become part of the story that the music tells and you share that with your partner. It’s magic for those three or four minutes. Then the music stops, folks go home, and the crush fades.”
“It obviously didn’t fade for Patrice. I heard she was suing you for breach of promise.”
“She said she was. She threatened it, but I never knew for certain if she really talked to Slay. I never got legal notification. I hoped if I ignored it, she’d let it slide, too. Surely she had to see that a court battle would only bring more humiliation on her. I didn’t want that for Patrice. I really didn’t.”
“So this is why she killed your shrubs?”
“The bad thing was that Patrice lived right next door to me. I caught her more than once watching me from the windows. If I had a woman over, or did anything in my yard, she was right there. Like a stalker. I think she killed my bushes so she could spy on me more easily.”
“You should have told us,” I said. “And you have to tell Glory. If she doesn’t already know.” I told him about Betsy’s ad that was waiting to be published at the local paper. “Betsy means business. She wants you to pay for killing Johnny.”
“Betsy is a crackpot, and I didn’t kill anybody. You have to believe me. Not Johnny and certainly not Slay or Patrice.”
“There’s a wake of misunderstanding behind you, Erik. Especially with women—Betsy, Patrice. And a lot of dead bodies. This doesn’t look good, and I’m not certain I trust you anymore.”
He looked down. “I deserve that.”
“Who else do we need to talk to? We need to have all the facts before Sheriff Glory gathers them. And then we need to go to her and put it all on the table.”
“Ana Arguello. You might want to speak to her.”
“What about those young ladies who were all over you? Are you involved with any of them?”
“I like them, too. Look, I love having fun. There’s no crime in that, and that’s why I keep my business to myself. Some people hate it when anyone else has a good time. They resent a person having joy in his life. When Patrice and I first started dancing, I didn’t realize she was like that. Then the more I got to know her, the less I liked her. To give the devil his due, she was a remarkable dancer. When the music began, her entire personality changed. We had that Ginger-Fred timing, which is hard to find.”
“So how’d it all go sour?” I asked.
“Last fall, she went off the deep end. She proposed to me and I told her I wasn’t going to marry anyone. After that, she was horrible. Spiteful and vindictive. We’d signed up for the
dance championship competition on the Gulf Voyager, and neither of us wanted to back out. I thought I could get through it, maybe remain friends with Patrice. She did a lot of crazy things that I never told anyone, because I didn’t want her to get in trouble. Maybe I should have. If she’d gotten help for her mental problems, she might be alive today.”
I didn’t doubt a word Erik was saying, and Tinkie seemed to believe him, too.
“Why didn’t you just tell us the truth?” I asked.
“This is a small town. It’s best to keep private business private, and it had nothing to do with Slay or really with Patrice. Look, I didn’t kill her. I wouldn’t. No matter how crazy she became. Once you’ve danced the tango with someone, there’s a bond.”
“Is there anything else you’re not telling us?” Tinkie asked.
He sighed. “No. There isn’t. And please, just keep my dancing life on the QT if you can.”
“Sure,” we said in chorus. We had no reason to discuss Erik’s hobbies with anyone—except the sheriff.
“How can we get in touch with Ana?”
He led us back to the pharmacy area and got a business card. He wrote a number on the back. The area code was Alabama. “Call her. She’ll tell you about Johnny.”
“Okay.”
I was about to leave when Sheriff Glory came into the business. The women at the soda fountain completely ignored her, but Erik nodded a greeting. “Can I help you, Sheriff?”
“Have you heard from Cosmo Constantine?”
Erik glanced at me, which made me realize he was about to lie. “I haven’t. Cosmo doesn’t come into town but about once a month, to get his prescriptions filled. He was in here before Easter, so I won’t see him again for several weeks.”
“Really?” Glory held her ground. She was nobody’s fool.
Erik seemed protective of Cosmo. Even when maybe he shouldn’t be. Even when Cosmo had threatened Patrice.
“Why are you looking for Cosmo?” Erik asked.
“One of Rory Palente’s yard crews pulled into the Chicken Shack last week. The crew went inside to eat, and while they were inside, Cosmo stole some chemicals off their truck.”
“Are you sure?” Erik was surprised. “Cosmo is opposed to chemicals.”
“I’m very sure. The Chicken Shack has surveillance cameras. We have him in black and white stealing herbicide. He wasn’t parked in the lot, but he comes out of the back of the business, heads straight to the parked lawn service truck, and he lifts the pesticide right off the trailer and leaves with it.”
“The herbicide that killed Patrice?” Erik asked.
“That’s the one.” Glory waited.
“Cosmo wouldn’t kill her,” Erik insisted. “He had no reason to kill her. Or Perry Slay. He may have stolen herbicide, but he isn’t a killer.”
I couldn’t help but wonder why Erik was sticking up for Cosmo. The man had means and opportunity, and possibly motive, based on Donna’s information. More importantly, he was the person who could take some of the heat of suspicion off Erik. Certainly Erik shouldn’t throw him under the bus, but he didn’t have to be so vocal in declaring his innocence. At least not right now. Unless there was more to Cosmo’s actions and they involved Erik.
“Why don’t you leave it up to me to decide who’s a killer and who isn’t?” Glory asked with a broad hint of sarcasm in her tone. “If you see him, call me. Tell him to turn himself in. If he’s got a logical explanation for stealing that herbicide, I need to hear it.”
Glory sauntered out of the drugstore in the same low-key way she’d arrived. I faced Erik. “What is he doing with herbicide?”
“I hope my suspicions aren’t real, but I’m afraid he may be trying to damage the gardens at the miniature Holy Land. He hates what Dr. Reynolds is doing out there. Everything Reynolds adds is another inducement for a boatload of tourists to stomp through the area. Cosmo really believes the flood of tourists is destroying the delicate ecosystem and that a lot of vulnerable insects and plants will suffer.”
“He would poison the gardens? That seems … counterproductive.” I remembered the beautiful plants and the exquisite landscaping that Daniel Reynolds had worked so hard to build.
“He might. I can’t think of any other reason he’d steal that kind of potent herbicide. He knows it killed my prize camellias.” He sighed. “Look, Cosmo hasn’t been himself lately. It all came to a head this past weekend with the sunrise service and the Easter egg hunt. He kind of flipped his wig. I need to go out there and see if I can find him and talk him into coming back to town with me.”
“Why do you care so much?”
Erik thought about it. “Cosmo is a loner. Afghanistan veteran. He wasn’t always so antisocial. I remember him when he was young and fun. He doesn’t have anyone else to care what happens to him.”
“PTSD?”
“I don’t know. Cosmo never talked about what happened over there. Ever.”
“He never got help?”
Erik snorted. “Right. Because there’s so much help available for our veterans.”
He was right about that. Help was in short supply for the troops that fought to protect us. “Do you think you can bring him back to town?”
“Maybe. I have to try. I’ll go when I close the store.”
“Tinkie and I are going to get in touch with Ana Arguello.”
“Knock yourself out,” Erik said, but with a hint of good humor. “She’s a little firecracker. Don’t let her take you out drinking. She can put you under the table and still dance a rumba like you’ve never seen. Tell her I’ll be in touch about our next practice session. By the way, I was with Ana the Saturday night before Easter Sunday.”
“When Slay was killed.”
“Yes. I just didn’t want to drag Ana into it. She’s got a crazy ex. She doesn’t need to be pulled into a murder investigation.”
“Gallant but stupid,” Tinkie said. “We’ll talk to her about alibiing you for the time Slay was murdered. Then you’ll be off the suspect list, Erik. Tinkie and I can go home.”
“But not before you see me dance.” He did a fancy cha-cha step.
I suddenly wanted to see Erik dance. “When is your next performance?”
“Ana and I have a competition in New Orleans soon. I’ll get tickets for you and your fellows. I know I should have been more forthcoming with you and Tinkie, too. I’ll do better.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
18
As soon as I walked to the soda fountain, Erik got on the phone and I presumed he was calling the stand-in pharmacist. I took a stool beside Tinkie. The young women had already left and the only person near us was Adam, the soda jerk, a young man with an easy smile who went out of his way to give us some privacy.
Tinkie had ordered some Coke floats. I dug into mine with a long spoon. It had been many years since I’d had the fizzy ice-cream concoction and it was even better than I remembered. The carbonated soda did something magical to the ice cream. I wasn’t even hungry but I couldn’t stop eating it.
My cell phone rang, and I anticipated seeing Coleman’s name on the caller ID, but it was Ed Oakes instead. Cece’s boss. He was likely looking for his wayward reporter, and to be honest, I needed to track her down myself. Whatever she was up to with Hans O’Shea, she needed to get her focus back on her work at the Zinnia Dispatch. And on her friends. I was all about career advancement, but she needed some balance.
“Hello, Ed.” I glanced at Tinkie, who stopped eating to listen in. I put the phone on speaker. There was no one else around us that we would disturb.
“Where’s Cece?” Ed was always no nonsense and today he was irritated.
Technically, I didn’t know. She’d been gone all day with Hans, presumably doing interviews and scouting locations and videoing for his show. That was information I wasn’t willing to divulge. Not my business. “Have you called her?”
“No, Sarah Booth. I thought I’d call every one of her friends first, just to see
if they were up to speed on her whereabouts.”
Ed was a master of sarcasm, and he made me smile. “She’s here in Lucedale. Maybe she’s working on a story for the paper. Seems like there may be a serial killer on the loose here.”
“We don’t have a lot of readership in Lucedale.”
Again, the sarcasm. “I’ll track her down and tell her to give you a call, but I have to warn you, the sheriff has asked all three of us to stay in town. We’ve been finding bodies like Easter eggs.”
“She might have called to tell me that.”
“I’m hoping we’re cleared to leave by tomorrow.” If Ana alibied Erik for the first murder, I believed he might be off the hook for Patrice’s death, too. Especially since Cosmo had moved up to first suspect on the list, and Snaith was also a viable suspect.
“Tell her to call me, pronto. Better yet, tell her to get her butt back up here. We’re getting ready to launch that column she and Millie Roberts cooked up. I’m a newsman, not an expert on celebrity frivolity. This thing could go off the rails if she isn’t here to shepherd it along.”
He was right about that. Cece and Millie were the perfect blend of straight news and what had once been the fun elements of grocery-store tabloids. Cece brought the weight of a serious journalist to the column. Millie had the dead Elvis sightings and the alien-baby births or abductions down pat. Point and counterpoint, all done with good humor and a saucy writing style. It was a brilliant plan to showcase fun stories and also professional questioning of those stories by a top-drawer journalist.
“First I have to find her, then I’ll have her call.”
“Thanks,” Ed said.
I hung up and looked at my partner.
“Call Millie,” Tinkie said.
It was an excellent suggestion. In a matter of minutes I had Millie on the phone. Afternoon was a slow time for her in Millie’s Café, so she was able to talk freely. “Have you heard from Cece? Ed is looking for her and he’s not a happy man.”
“I spoke with Cece this morning,” she said. “She promised to be home tomorrow.”
That was good to know. It would have to do for Ed Oakes. The day was concluding here, and it was a long drive home. Cece could get up early and be in Zinnia by eleven o’clock. That was better than driving at night and having an accident. There were a lot of deer crossing the road between here and there.
The Devil's Bones Page 13
