Murder among the Palms

by Jade Astor

  Darian groaned when he turned his head and saw Kyle approaching.

  “Darian, honey, I’m so sorry about the way I went off on the beach,” he called as soon as they made eye contact. “Please don’t be angry with me. It was the shock of seeing poor Gabrielle sprawled out like that. I didn’t realize what I was saying.”

  “Sure, Kyle. So you implicated my mom in a murder. No big deal.”

  The cop stationed behind them stepped closer, waving Kyle back. “Sorry, sir. No talking about the case. Go back to your table until Lt. Lanislaw excuses you.”

  Any other time, Darian would have resented the intrusion. Right now he felt grateful.

  “But I’ve already given him my statement,” Kyle complained, suddenly petulant. “I was totally forthcoming. Hard to see how I could be of any further help.”

  “He’ll let you know if he needs to talk to you again. For now, please return to your seat and wait patiently like everyone else.”

  Kyle blew out a theatrical sigh. “I’m afraid patience has never been my strong suit. Still, if you insist, Officer. Hang in there, Darian. No point in denying that things seem bleak for both your moms, but one way or another you’ll come through this. If you decide to turn to your friends, just remember we’re here for you.”

  Even the cop gave Darian a sympathetic look when Kyle finally flounced away. Wincing, Darian leaned close to Argo and lowered his voice.

  “I’m worried that Kyle’s right, Argo. It really doesn’t look good for my mom, does it? I mean, I can just imagine the way Lanislaw sees it. Mom had too much to drink and got into an argument with Rikki over Gabrielle. The whole hotel apparently thinks they were having an affair. Later on, we find her body. How could it not look like my mom took out a rival?”

  “We have absolutely no evidence that anyone’s having an affair,” Argo whispered back. “For all we know, Gabrielle could have been the victim of a random mugging. We have to be patient. The pieces will eventually fall into place.”

  “Don’t try to whitewash this. You speak cop even better than I do.” Darian sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Bottom line, we need to find Ange. Fast.”

  “You just got your wish.” Abruptly Argo straightened his chair. Startled, Darian turned his head to see two uniformed cops leading Ange into the restaurant. Aside from looking a bit rumpled and bewildered, she did not appear to be hurt in any way. Nor, Darian noticed with relief, did there appear to be any blood or salt water on her clothes. She wasn’t in handcuffs, either. With any luck, she had been far from the scene of the murder and could prove it.

  “Mom!” he shouted, lurching to his feet. He didn’t care about Lanislaw’s spies. Before anyone could stop him, he rushed across the room and wrapped his arms around his mother. “Are you okay? Where the hell have you been? We’ve been turning the place upside down looking for you!”

  “I had no idea anyone was worried.” Ange shook her head. “I felt a little dizzy, so I went out to the car. I just wanted to be alone and close my eyes for a few minutes. I’m not sure what happened, but I guess I drifted off. I woke up to the sound of these people tapping on the window with a nightstick.” She paused to dart an outraged look at the cops flanking her. “I didn’t realize sitting in your own vehicle constituted a crime these days.”

  “You mean you haven’t heard about what happened on the beach? Mom, you’ve got to be kidding!”

  “The beach? What about it?” Ange blinked, uncomprehending. Then her eyes widened in horror. “Rikki’s not hurt?”

  “No, no. She’s fine.”

  Ange opened her mouth to ask more questions, but at that point, the cop on her left put an end to her inquiries. “This way, ma’am,” he urged, nudging her forward. “This won’t take long.”

  Ange, though, was in no mood to cooperate.

  “What won’t take long? Where are you dragging me? I can tell you now, I’m not talking to any cops without an attorney present. I’ve studied the Constitution and the law and I can assure you I know all my rights. Don’t even bother trying to trick me. I’ve watched plenty of crime shows, too. I learned about good-cop, bad-cop before you were finished with diapers.”

  “We can arrange that, ma’am. At this point, Lt. Lanislaw is only asking for a witness statement.”

  “What am I supposedly a witness to? Whatever it is, I’ll be happy to help to the best of my abilities—as long as council is present.”

  “Good for you, Mom,” Darian said under his breath. He watched Ange continue to argue until her police escort guided her through a door at the back of the room. Argo stood beside him, shaking his head.

  “She’s my least favorite kind of witness,” he observed with a mixture of admiration and exasperation. “Ask her what color the sky is and she refers you to some law firm with four or five names in the title. Hours of extra paperwork.”

  “She has a point, though. No way should she tell Lanislaw anything without talking to a lawyer first. Do you think I should go ahead and call one for her? She knows quite a few through the college.”

  “Let’s wait. We don’t want Lanislaw to think she has anything to hide.”

  The way he said it struck Darian as odd. Argo’s face, as usual, betrayed nothing. “Even if she does, you mean?”

  “That’s not at all what I’m suggesting. I’m simply pointing out that cooperation can be a good thing. It helps cops get to the truth faster.”

  “That might depend on how one defines truth. I hope Lanislaw plans to find and grill Carl, too.”

  “He’s not out to railroad your mom,” Argo said. “I’m sure of that.”

  Darian caught a hint of defensiveness in his tone. He wasn’t inclined to apologize, though. Ange had a point about cops posing leading questions and tricking suspects into incriminating themselves. He’d seen his fair share of true-crime documentaries, too.

  “Are you? I wish I could be.”

  Argo didn’t seem inclined to debate the point, for which Darian was grateful. This evening had gone far enough off the rails without tossing in a spat about police ethics. “Why don’t you go back to our table? I’ll get us some more coffee. I just saw Kyle put out a fresh pot.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Not that he really wanted more coffee, and he was even less inclined to think about Kyle. Still, it gave Argo something to do and would also give Darian a chance to compose himself. He didn’t want to get annoyed with Argo, and he could feel himself veering dangerously close to that already. Of course Argo would see the whole situation from a cop’s point of view and hesitate to criticize his comrades in blue. Still, he wouldn’t have minded a more vociferous objection to the idea of Ange as a suspect.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, hoping he could open his eyes and find himself back home in bed, hoodwinked by a vivid dream. Instead, a cup of strong-smelling French roast appeared.

  “I tried to go light on the cream.” Argo settled in beside him. “I know how you hate wimpy coffee.”

  “Thanks,” Darian said, tasting it. “Great job. It’s perfect.”

  Argo nodded. The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. “Strong but not bitter. That’s the way to go every time.”

  They sipped in silence, watching the people around them. Darian recognized most of them from the patio, though he’d seen at least one or two couples busting a move on the dance floor. No doubt all of them wished they’d been a little faster to leave. Coffee after a party was one thing, but combining it with a murder inquiry was a bit too much like some demented dinner-theater game.

  Near the entrance to the kitchen, Kyle stood fidgeting while he monitored the growing line at the coffee urn. While Darian watched, Zara got up from Bodie and Iris’s table. She said something to Kyle as she glided through the swinging steel doors. How many cops were inside the kitchen, he wondered, taking inventory of the knives?

  Behind him, a police radio crackled and a muffled voice came through it. Darian was certain he heard his and Argo’s names mentioned. Moments later they followed the
same path Ange had taken, accompanied as she had been by a taciturn patrol officer.

  They stepped into a function room, filled with stacked-up chairs and folded tables. Stacks of tablecloths and linens napkins covered nearly every flat surface. At the far end, Lanislaw had set up a makeshift desk and row of chairs. His tiny leather notebook and silver pen lay in front of him. Darian had an immediate flashback to the first time he’d met Argo. The incident room in that case had been the cafeteria manager’s office at Birchwood Academy, and the desk had been heaped with its usual occupants’ paperwork and personal effects. Lanislaw’s determined expression, however, mirrored the one Argo’s stony face had worn that day.

  “Where’s my mom?” Darian looked around with a sinking sensation. Ange hadn’t come back to the restaurant. Had Lanislaw spirited her out some back door and stuffed her into a paddy wagon?

  “She’s fine. One of my officers will drive her home as soon as we take care of a few details at the police station. Don’t worry—she’s not under arrest and we’re allowing her to contact a lawyer, as requested. Like I said, all I want is to get a clear picture of what took place on the beach tonight. If your mother wasn’t there, as she claims, it won’t take long to file her statement and she can continue on her way.” He motioned to the chairs he’d pulled up to the table. “Please, both of you. Take seats. I’ll be as brief as possible.”

  “What about Rikki, my other mom? I thought she was back here, too.”

  “Also assisting in our inquiries. At the moment, she’s with a forensic technician in Mrs. Duval’s office.” Lanislaw folded his hands over his notebook. “I’m afraid we’ll have to impound your mother Ange’s car for a while. I assume a ride home won’t be a problem?”

  “As long as you don’t impound Rikki’s car, too.”

  “No. Fortunately that’s not necessary.”

  Darian frowned. He knew what the car search meant. Lanislaw suspected, or maybe even hoped, that his team would find traces from the crime scene there. In his mind, Ange had attacked Gabrielle and sought refuge in her car. Ridiculous, of course. If Ange was telling the truth, which Darian had no doubt she was, there would be no physical evidence and Lanislaw would release her.

  Unless Lanislaw was the type to plant evidence, or their forensics lab botched their tests. He’d seen that kind of thing on a true crime show, too. And was it really so rare for sand to find its way into cars in Florida? Who knew how a slick prosecutor might twist something so innocent?

  The French roast churning in his stomach, Darian stole a discreet glance at Argo. Why had Lanislaw decided to interview them together? Was he hoping to play them against each other and wheedle them into blurting out something incriminating about Ange?

  No way was Darian playing that game. He would volunteer nothing, and if Lanislaw pressed he would do the same thing as Ange and ask for a lawyer.

  “Okay, so I just wanted to go over a few basic facts for my report,” Lanislaw said, his voice so overly casual that the back of Darian’s neck prickled. “Your mom—Rikki—provided a general outline, but I need you to verify a couple of specifics.”

  The next few questions were exactly as Darian expected, and obviously Argo had expected them, too—their full names, ages, and other bureaucratic details. He asked about Argo’s position as sheriff, though Darian knew he would have verified that information at the earliest possible moment.

  “And you’re a teacher, I understand,” he said, pretending to consult his notes. “Private school called Birchwood. Pretty prestigious, according to your mother, Rikki.”

  “That’s correct.” Darian was careful not to offer more than he was asked.

  “I haven’t heard of it, I’m afraid. I went to a public high school myself.” Lanislaw rifled through his notebook. “Your other mom—Angela—is also a teacher? Ah, yes. Here it is. Women’s studies. ”

  Darian waited for Lanislaw to pull a face or make some sexist crack, but to his credit, he refrained. Instead he tapped his pen on his notes. “Okay, then. That should take care of the paperwork, at least. Now let’s shift gears for a moment. Your moms have been together a long time, I understand. How would you describe their relationship?”

  “I wouldn’t presume to describe it at all. Why would I? They’re my moms.” Darian felt his cheeks grow warm. He knew what Lanislaw was really asking, and he resented the guy’s nerve. Who wanted to think about their parents’ love lives, whatever their gender?

  Lanislaw’s mouth twitched. Was he stifling a smirk? “Would you say their marriage was solid? No problems?”

  “Nothing I know about,” Darian said too quickly. Then he thought better of it. Lanislaw would know that Rikki had been spending most of her time at work, and for all he knew she had also told him she was sleeping in their guest room. “I mean, lately there had been some tension about Rikki’s job. She was working here a lot of extra hours.”

  “With the victim, Gabrielle Duval.”

  “And with other people. Zara Wilson, for example. Kyle Kirk.”

  “Oh, yes. I’m glad you mentioned your friend Kyle.” Again Lanislaw pretended to flip through his notebook. “I talked to him earlier. Kyle says, based on some conversations he had with Rikki here at the hotel, that your moms didn’t totally approve of your relationship with Argo, here. Kyle got the sense they didn’t care for his being a police officer.”

  “Kyle’s not my friend,” Darian objected, bolting upright in his seat. Argo also tensed up at that statement. He could sense his muscles snapping tight and the usual defensive wall going up around Argo. “Well, I mean, I knew him a long time ago, back in high school, but that’s it.”

  “He has a slightly different take on your relationship.”

  “I—” Too late, Darian realized he had said far more than he’d intended. Now he had no alternative but to roll with it and be more cautious going forward. “I can’t control Kyle’s perceptions. As for what he talked about with Rikki, I have no idea. I wasn’t there, obviously.”

  “That makes sense.” Shrugging, Lanislaw changed tactics. “All right, then. Sorry if I put you on the spot. I’m just interested in the family dynamics. Your household is a little different from what I usually deal with. That’s all. Now let’s talk about what happened on the beach. Which of you spotted Gabrielle first?”

  Finally Argo spoke. “I did.”

  “Did you recognize her right away?”

  “No. She was face-down in the water.”

  “So you immediately ran over to offer first aid.” Lanislaw’s tone held a clear challenge.

  “We both did,” Darian offered. “We pulled her onto the sand and turned her over. But we could tell there was nothing we could do.”

  Lanislaw’s cold eyes turned toward Argo. “Your law enforcement training made that clear, I suppose.”

  “Training and years of experience,” Argo said.

  “Okay. And my understanding is that you didn’t see any other people on the beach. No one in the distance, no one coming in the other direction.”

  “The beach was off-limits according to the sign,” Darian observed.

  “Well, Argo and I can tell you that keep-out signs often act as a magnet. After all, it didn’t deter either of you.”

  “That was different,” Darian said. “We were on a mission. We thought my mom—”

  He caught himself too late. Lanislaw nodded, a slow smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “You had reason to believe your mother, Angela, wandered onto the beach in a state of intoxication.”

  “That was only a guess,” Darian sputtered, mentally kicking himself for falling into Lanislaw’s trap. He could only imagine Argo’s bemused expression, since he didn’t dare to glance over at him to confirm it. “The point is, we didn’t see—actually, hang on a minute. I’d forgotten this until just now. When I first came out of the hotel and went down the patio steps, a woman was standing there. I almost crashed into her, in fact. At first, I thought it was my mom, because she was about the same weight
and height. Then I saw her face and realized it wasn’t Ange.”

  Lanislaw tilted his head. “Do you know who it actually was?”

  “Well, no, not by name. But here’s the thing. I didn’t spot her at any of the tables while we were waiting to talk to you. She was on the beach just before we found the body. And then she must have taken off. She might have seen something. You need to find her!”

  He expected Lanislaw would jump at this new and clearly relevant information, but instead he seemed utterly disinterested—maybe even disbelieving. Of course, maybe that wasn’t so shocking. Lanislaw probably expected Darian to grasp at any wisp of smoke, or even outright fib, to get his mother off the hook.

  Casually, Lanislaw swung around to look at Argo. “Did you see this mysterious person also?”

  “Sorry,” Argo said. “I didn’t. But I was a few steps behind.”

  “You should ask Bodie and Iris. They might have seen her.”

  “I’ll do that, certainly.” Lanislaw went back to tapping his pen. Darian wondered if he fantasized about drumming for a Miami-based boy band. His frosted hair alone would earn him an audition. “Meanwhile, I have more questions for you. How well did your mom—Angela—know Gabrielle?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, they’d met, obviously.” Darian scowled. “How well do you know your wife’s boss?”

  “I’m single, as it happens.” Lanislaw picked up his left hand, flashed his ringless fingers, and dropped it to the desk again. “Anyhow, you were there when your fr—er, when Kyle Kirk said rumors at the hotel involved Gabrielle and Rikki. Would you say your mother—Angela—was angry at Gabrielle for interfering in her marriage?”

  Darian fidgeted. No point in lying. “Honestly, who wouldn’t be? But that doesn’t mean she’s a killer. Ask any of her colleagues from school. They’ll all tell you how patient and kind she is with all her friends and her students.”

  “Bit of a different situation, though.”