by Mary Maxwell
“Can I be left out of it, too?” I asked, emerging from the walk-in.
My mother scowled. “That’s so funny that I forgot to laugh, Lizzie! When does your lounge act open in Vegas?”
“Anyway,” I said, skimming over her wisecrack, “what can I tell you about the Wargrave case that Matt hasn’t already heard around the police station?”
He raised one hand. “Like I said, leave me out of this.”
“Well, isn’t this grand?” my mother asked sarcastically. “Both of my children have zero interest in spending quality time with the woman that brought them into this world.”
I smiled. “Aren’t we being a little melodramatic there, Deb?”
“I don’t know,” she replied without a grin, “are you, Elizabeth?”
“What do you want to know, Mom?” Matt said. “Most of the things that I’ve heard are confidential.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” my mother protested. “Do you really think that I’d blab what you tell me around town?”
Matt tried to keep from smiling. “The thought had crossed my mind,” he said. “The last time we talked about a case, it was splashed all over online the next morning.”
My mother sighed. “That wasn’t me, sweetheart! Leslie Hall was responsible for that debacle. I may have mentioned something to her at church, but she promised not to say a thing. Of course, less than five seconds later, she spilled the beans to her neighbor. Then Suzy told the woman that does her hair. And the next thing you know, the fact that Tripp and Maureen’s oldest daughter was arrested for shoplifting a bunch of pregnancy tests from Walmart is being discussed from one end of town to the other.”
I looked at my brother. “There’s at least a little bit of difference between theft and cold-blooded murder,” I said.
“I know that,” Matt huffed. “But I still ended up with egg on my face.”
“What on earth for?” my mother asked.
“Can we please get off the topic?” Matt said. “I’m picking up the kids in twenty minutes and I still need to get their ice cream.”
“Sure,” I said. “Are you doing the usual?”
He nodded.
“Give me a sec,” I told him. “I can go up front and get that set while you—”
“It’s ready to go, Lizzie.” My mother’s tone was simultaneously smug and browbeaten. “After all, I’m still happy to take care of my kids even if they don’t have time to answer a mother’s simple questions.”
“Oh, give it a rest!” Matt said. “The Wargrave case is closed. Ned and Christine Marshall confessed. His fingerprints were all over the pen and note that we found under Simon’s body. After Christine told him about the rivalry between Maybelle and Simon, he wet across the street to Maybelle’s office, stole the ballpoint and sheet of paper from her desk and placed it under Simon’s body to try and frame Maybelle.”
“And Doug Peralta?” I said. “What’s going to happen with him?”
“Well, since he agreed to testify against Ned and Christine, Doug’s getting a reduced sentence for attempted blackmail.”
My mother smiled. “Thank you, Matthew! I was wondering what Doug had to do with Simon’s murder”
“Is that all?” I asked, glancing at Matt. “That’s a pretty easy one to answer, isn’t it?”
“I’m going up front,” he said, shaking his head and walking out of the kitchen.
“There we go,” I said, frowning at my mother. “All of that discord over a fairly simple thing.”
She smiled. “I’m a simple woman, dear. I ask simple questions.”
“Okay, I don’t have all the information about the case,” I said, “but I do know that Ned went to see Doug because he was having trouble finding Saw Wargrave’s place.”
“He couldn’t ask his sister?” my mother said.
“She wasn’t returning his calls fast enough to suit Ned,” I explained. “But Ned was determined to confront Wargrave that very moment, and he remembered that Doug would probably have Simon’s address. So Ned went to Doug’s shoe repair shop, asked if he knew where Simon lived and then warned him not to tell anyone that he’d asked about Mr. Marshall.”
“More proof that Ned’s not exactly a master criminal,” my mother teased. “You say something like that, and the other person’s going to wonder what you’re up to.”
I shook my head. “It’s really kind of pathetic. Ned panicked after killing Wargrave. He started to worry that Doug would go to the police, so he kidnapped Peralta and took him to the motel. According to Christine’s statement, Ned planned to drive Doug out to the spot in the country where he hid the murder weapon and kill Peralta to keep him from alerting the CBPD.”
“Then why didn’t he?” she asked. “Why is Doug Peralta still alive and Simon Wargrave’s heading for his final hoorah at Chapel by the Sea?”
“From what I understand, two things are responsible for Doug’s survival,” I said. “One, Ned Marshall was beginning to realize the gravity of his actions.”
“Oh, please!” my mother said derisively. “After he’d already killed a man?”
“I know, it may seem odd,” I said. “But he was feeling guilty about Wargrave, and didn’t want to have any more blood on his hands.”
“What’s the other reason Doug’s still alive?” she asked.
“The police intervened,” I said. “They arrived at the Coconut Reef and took Ned into custody before he could have another change of heart.”
She nodded. “And where did they find Doug?”
“He was in the motel room,” I answered. “Handcuffed to the vanity and gagged with one of Christine’s wigs.”
My mother’s eyes bulged. “You’ve got to be joking!”
“Afraid not,” I said. “When Doug started to yell for help after he’d been in the room for a few hours, Christine’s wig was the first thing that Ned grabbed. He stuffed it in Doug’s mouth and secured it with duct tape.”
“Well, the poor, poor man,” she said. “That must’ve tasted just awful!”
“Not to mention fearing for his life,” I added. “At that point, Doug truly believed that Ned and Christine would make good on their threats to kill him.”
“Thank goodness it all worked out in the end,” she said.
“More or less,” I said. “The charges against Doug are still pending.”
“That’s ridiculous,” my mother said. “The poor man’s been through enough at this point.”
“True,” I agreed. “He thought he was going to die and sustained some pretty nasty blows to the head.”
“Not to mention the worst part of the ordeal,” my mother said with a playful smirk. “Do you know how much Aqua Net hairspray Christine uses on those wigs? I’ve heard that she goes through three or four cans a week!”
“Well, that’s going to be hard to give up,” I said.
“What do you mean, dear?”
“You know how much emphasis Christine puts on her hair,” I said. “I don’t think she’ll able to dye it behind bars.”
“What a pity!” My mother rolled her eyes before motioning for me to follow her out of the kitchen. “Arrested for a felony, and then locked up without her Garnier Nutrisse Medium Natural Brown.”
CHAPTER 40
Nadine Pleshette was sitting at the end of the bar with a martini and bowl of peanuts when I met her late that afternoon at Harry’s Hi-Hat. The jazz club at the Crystal Bay Hotel didn’t get busy until after dark, so the only other occupants included the bartender, a guy installing new overhead glass racks and Ivy Longfellow, a retired Delta flight attendant who spent every afternoon at the Hi-Hat reading old Jackie Collins novels and sipping cocktails.
“Is this seat taken?” I said, gliding up beside Nadine and putting my hand on the next barstool.
She answered my question with a thin smile and subtle nod.
“What can I bring for you?” asked the bartender.
I glanced at the wine list, ordered a glass of pinot noir and then slipped ont
o the crimson leather seat.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Nadine said, reaching for my hand and squeezing it tightly.
“It’s nice to see you,” I told her.
“I’m really struggling with all of this, Liz. My sister in Detroit suggested that it would be a good idea to talk to somebody.” She took a tiny sip of her martini. “I think maybe she meant a shrink or something, but I thought you might be able to help me understand why Ned did such a horrible thing.”
“I’m happy to talk,” I said. “Based on what I’ve heard so far, I’d guess that Ned’s true aim was probably a very complex subject.”
“You mean his motive?” She pushed the bowl of peanuts in my direction. “Or are you talking about how he tricked me into believing that he’d been in love with me all these years.”
When she’d called earlier to ask if we could get together, Nadine had confided that Ned Marshall had appeared at her house out of the blue a few days before Simon Wargrave’s murder. They’d dated in high school, but the romance ended when Ned left Jacksonville for college in California. Nadine eventually married Landon, a union that she always described as joyful and fulfilling according to what I heard from my mother. Unfortunately, the reality was a little less rosy. Landon cheated on Nadine almost as often as he flew charters to the Bahamas. One night when she was home alone with a six-pack of Smirnoff Ice and her phone, Nadine made the fateful decision to call Simon Wargrave. One call led to another and another and eventually an overnight rendezvous at a hotel. They kept the dalliance under wraps until Ned Marshall began pursing Nadine with emails and phone calls. When the two hotheads found out they were both in feverish pursuit of the same woman, the simmering anger that Ned felt about being bullied as a child sparked into an inferno that ended with Simon’s death.
After she received an unforeseen friend request from Ned, Nadine hesitated to accept. But when the curiosity wouldn’t go away, she began exchanging a series of innocent messages about their lives in the years since they graduated from high school.
“And then he sent me an email a couple of weeks ago to tell me that he was coming to visit his sister,” she said. “We talked on the phone the next day, which was exciting and kind of weird all at once. He was the same old Ned, but then he wasn’t. It’s hard to explain; like part of him was familiar and the other part was completely unfamiliar. After a long ramble apologizing for not being in touch for so long, he invited me to meet for dinner when he got to town so we could talk about old times.”
“How did that make you feel?” I asked.
“Which part?” Nadine said.
“Hearing from Ned after such a long time,” I said.
“To be honest, I was confused at first,” she said. “But when I actually saw him face-to-face, it was amazing. He treated me like a queen. We went to dinner and he bought me a beautiful ring.” She held out her hand so I could admire the diamond-and-emerald sparkler. “He used my old nickname, which made me feel like we were back in Jacksonville and all of my dreams were still possible.”
“What dreams are those?” I asked, suspecting that I already knew the answer.
“Oh, you know,” she said. “The things that some girls fantasize about when they’re sixteen and think that they’re in love with the boy they’ll marry. I imagined all of the clichés: a beautiful wedding, children, successful careers and a family vacation every summer to an island.”
I smiled. “What about the white picket fence?”
“Oh, that was part of it, too.” She shook her head and giggled. “I was so young and naïve.”
“Aren’t we all at that age?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Nadine said. “But what about now? When Ned suddenly appeared out of nowhere, I was older but no less naïve.” She took a deep breath. “And now, Simon is dead, Christine’s life is ruined and Ned is going to prison. I keep thinking that maybe if I’d said something to her…to Christine, then maybe…”
She didn’t finish the thought. Instead, her voice faded and her chin fell to her chest.
“I’ve made a lot of really awful choices lately,” she said as her eyes welled with tears. “In the end, everyone got hurt—my husband, Ned, Simon and me. I actually feel responsible for what happened to Simon. If I’d been less selfish, maybe he’d still be alive.”
“How could you possibly be responsible for his murder?” I asked.
She took the cocktail napkin from under her martini and used it to blot her eyes. Then she blinked a few times and her mood shifted back toward steady.
“There was something about Ned’s disposition,” she said. “It was so…well, he seemed distracted and talked about Simon a lot.”
“What did he say?”
Nadine shrugged. “Ned was constantly asking questions about Simon,” she replied. “When he first got to town, we went to dinner and had a great time. It was amazing to see Ned again after all those years. But then, by the third day or so, his focus was on Simon. He wanted to know if I saw Simon very much and where he lived and what type of office hours he kept. I was aware that they didn’t get along when we were all kids. Heck, I even witnessed a few of the times that Simon bullied Ned in high school. So when he started asking about him, I thought maybe Ned was going to see if they could sit down and talk. I never dreamed that he wanted to know all of that stuff so he could kill Simon.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself?” I said. “From what Ned told the police, he never intended to kill Simon.”
“Then why did he go see him?” she asked.
“Ned wanted to hear Simon apologize,” I said. “After all those years of festering rage, he wanted to confront his childhood nemesis and see if Simon would do the right thing.”
Nadine’s mouth formed a sad smile. “As if,” she said, “that would ever be possible for Simon Wargrave.”
CHAPTER 41
Aunt Dot’s bloodcurdling scream shattered the early morning silence as we prepared to open the next day. I was almost finished mopping the floor in the dining room, my mother was cleaning the counter and stools and Theo was replacing a bulb in one of the kitchen light fixtures. Dot had gone into the office to retrieve her recipe book so we could decide on the Cookie of the Day selection.
“Oh, my God!” my mother shrieked. “We’ve got to call 911, Lizzie! Your aunt’s having a medical emergency!”
As I dropped the mop and hurried toward the kitchen, I heard Theo’s voice in the back.
“What’s he saying?” I asked my mother.
She was clutching her chest and reaching for the phone. “I didn’t catch it!” She started punching the buttons. “Get back there and see what’s going on!”
I gave her a nod, went into the kitchen and started toward the office.
“She got it!” Theo said. “Your aunt’s gonna be famous!”
Aunt Dot shot out of the office with the phone still pressed against her ear. She did a little dance, spinning around and flapping her Big Dipper apron.
“Two weeks?” she said to the caller. “And then what?”
I walked over and gave her a hug as soon as she came to a stop. I could hear Theo in front, telling my mother that Dot needed bottles of champagne instead of an ambulance.
“What’s going on back there?” my mother yelped.
“It’s the TV people,” Theo told her. “Aunt Dot’s gonna be on that show!”
A few seconds later, they both rushed into the kitchen to join me. We listened carefully to my aunt’s end of the conversation, trying to decipher what the Cuisine TV representative was saying about their plans for We All Scream for Ice Cream. At one point, Dot asked for details about hair, makeup and wardrobe.
“Typical,” my mother muttered in the background. “She’s more worried about style than substance.”
Theo made a face. “You have to look good on TV,” he said. “Otherwise, nobody will follow your Instagram and you won’t get endorsement deals.”
“What are you blathering on about?” my mother asked.
“The real easy cash is online,” Theo explained. “My buddy Declan knows a hottie in Boca that’s getting rich from posting online about bikinis. She’s got a hundred and fifty thousand followers. One post got ten thousand likes in an hour.”
My mother looked at me. “Do you know what he just said, Lizzie?”
“I’ll translate it later,” I said. “Let’s focus on Dot right now.”
My aunt was pacing from one side of the kitchen to the other as she listened to the caller from Cuisine TV. Her ecstatic grin had become a tentative scowl, so it seemed the fantastic news was being tempered by subsequent reality.
“It’s the underbelly of show business,” I joked to my mother and Theo. “They probably just told her that the gig doesn’t include her own private jet for flights between here and the studio in New York.”
“Hush!” My mother lightly swatted my arm. “Don’t rain on her parade!”
“I have no plans to,” I said. “It’s just that—”
“Lady Gaga?” my aunt shrieked. “Are you serious?”
Theo clapped his hands. “We’re gonna meet Lady Gaga!” he cheered. “I knew this job would be better than Pizza Hut!”
“I doubt if that’s what they told her,” my mother said. “I don’t see anybody from the British Royal Family coming to Crystal Bay.”
“Huh?” Theo shot me a look. “What’s she talking about?”
“I’ll translate that later, too,” I said. “It sounds like the call is wrapping up.”
After Aunt Dot gushed into the phone for a few more seconds, showering the caller from New York with wave after wave of flowery praise, she finally finished the conversation and dropped the phone into her apron pocket.
“Holy moly!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. “I got it! I’m one of the contestants on the ice cream show!”
My mother surrounded Dot with her arms. “That’s the best news I’ve heard since my last weigh-in at Skinny Minnie’s.”
