Luca Mystery Series Box Set

by Dan Petrosini

  From her front door you could see clear out the back of the house to the bay. “Beautiful home you have, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, we’ve been here for ages.”

  “What’s the name of that bay out back?”

  “Smuggler’s Bay.”

  The view was magnificent. “I can see why you’ve stayed here so long.”

  She showed me into the formal living room, which threw me off. Though three crucifixes and two ancient looking icons hung on the walls, there were at least six Buddha statues and an object that looked like a steering wheel from an old ship.

  “I just made lemonade. Let me get it. Sit anywhere.”

  When she left I took a close look at the wheel, trying to figure out what it was. Maybe this was from an ancient ship one of their ancestors piloted. Joan came in carrying a tray with a pitcher and glasses.

  “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what is the significance of the wheel? Did it come off an old ship?”

  She laughed. “My husband’s a Buddhist, and as you can see, he collects artifacts. The wheel is called a Dharmachakra, and its eight spokes represent the eight noble paths central to Buddhism.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know that.”

  “Neither did I until he brought it home. I’m a Catholic, and the only way to get him to stop bringing more Buddhas in was by putting up a crucifix up every time he did.” She laughed and poured two glasses, handing one to me.

  “Thanks. Since talking religion is taboo these days, let’s get to Marilyn Boggs. We’re trying to learn as much about her as possible. How long have you been friends?”

  “I’m afraid to admit, will ages suffice?”

  I smiled.

  “Detective, you look like George Clooney, especially when you smile.”

  “I get that a lot. So, you’ve been friends for, what, twenty years?”

  “At least. We met in high school but lost touch when she went to a finishing school. Boy, that sounds like it’s from a different era, doesn’t it? Marilyn and I reconnected when she came back and landed at the United Way when I was president of the Collier chapter.”

  “Did she tell you about her marital difficulties?”

  She frowned. “I’m not comfortable talking about such private matters.”

  I leaned forward. “Please, Joan, we need to understand what was going on in her life if we are to nail the SOB that did this.”

  “I understand. Marilyn seemed happy with Gideon for a couple of years. Then she started making comments. This was after he had a heart attack. She said that he was a basket case and was losing his mind. I felt bad for Gideon and reminded her of the old saying.” Using her fingers to make air quotes, she continued, “ ‘In sickness and in health,’ but when I did, she said life was too short.”

  “Did she tell you about her extramarital affairs?”

  She nodded. “She didn’t say much until she started seeing John Barnet. Then she was like a teenager, trying to tell me things I frankly had no interest in hearing. I’ve been married to the same man for thirty years and couldn’t imagine doing what she did, especially with him.”

  “You knew Barnet?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He’s not trustworthy, and that is more than just my opinion.”

  “Can you elaborate? It might be important.”

  “Well, on at least three occasions he overcharged us. It was like he was testing us, and when it slipped by, he upped the ante. The one that stuck out was for thirty thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money, and we’re a charitable organization with limited resources.”

  “What did he say about the overcharges?”

  “When I challenged the excessive charge, he said it was a mistake, that he had a new girl handling the invoicing and that she had confused the billing on two events.” She took a sip of lemonade. “Mistakes happen, but I’ve seen quite a few gals in this town get taken in by . . . by his type. So, I audited all of Barnet’s invoices, and what do you know, I found two more. What really got to me was the fact he was testing us. The first one was just over a thousand, and when it slipped through, he bumped the next one to fifteen thousand.”

  “How did Mrs. Boggs react when all this happened?”

  Hathaway pulled her lips in. “She defended him, said it was an honest mistake. I was stunned. I warned her that he was not to be trusted.”

  “Did he make good for the overcharges?”

  She nodded.

  I pulled out my notebook. “I have a few names of her friends: Susan Malloy, Jessica Cloydon, Betty Sue Grapple, and Maria Corsica. Is there anyone else you think we should check with?”

  “Marilyn had a wide circle of friends. You’ve got the one’s she was friends with for a long time. You might want to talk with Patty Clermont. After Patty got divorced the two of them got close.”

  I jotted the name down. “Is she local?”

  Joan nodded. “After her divorce, Patty moved to the Moorings. Let me get my phone. I’ve got her number.”

  Chapter 34

  Luca

  When she opened the door, I hesitated before speaking. Patty Clermont didn’t look like the image I’d formed. As a friend of Marilyn’s, I’d expected someone older, who resembled Joan Hathaway. Patty Clermont, bouncing on the balls of her feet and ponytail swinging, exuded an electricity you didn’t expect in the Moorings.

  “Patty Clermont?”

  “That’s me,” she smiled.

  “I’m Detective Luca, with the sheriff’s office. We’ve been checking with people who knew Marilyn Boggs. We were given your name by a longtime friend of hers.”

  She swung the door wide open, the breeze blousing the white gauze dress she wore.

  “Come on in.”

  The home had a wide-open floor plan that contrasted with its more traditional front. I wondered when she’d renovated the home. As we got deeper into the home, the music that was playing got louder. A quartet of sliders opened the house to a small yard, dominated by a glass-tiled pool. A wall of vegetation provided privacy from neighbors that were just a few feet away. If this place had a view, it would go for three million, provided the front was redone.

  She kicked her flip-flops off and sat on a gray leather sofa, tucking her legs under and to the side.

  “Make yourself comfy.”

  I sat in a low-backed, red chair made of corduroy and said, “How long have you known Marilyn?”

  She eyed me and wet her lips before saying, “We knew each other a long time but didn’t really socialize much until we worked on the Juvenile Diabetes Ball. We had a lot of fun putting the event together, and it carried over. We kinda lost touch a bit. Then, when I was going through a difficult time with my divorce and all, Marilyn was there for me. She was really great, got me out of the house. She knew everyone.”

  “What did you know about her relationship with her husband?”

  “Things weren’t good.”

  She stood up, sucked in her tummy and smoothed the front of her dress.

  “I need a cocktail. Can I get one for you?”

  “Sorry, but I’m on the job.”

  “You’ve got to learn to loosen up, Detective. By the way, you look very familiar.”

  As she poured herself a vodka, I asked, “You said things weren’t good. What do you mean by that?”

  She brushed against my knees on her way back to the sofa. “They’d drifted apart. It started when Gideon began having issues.”

  “Did she tell you what those issues were?”

  “It was anxiety, you know, panic attacks. And he never wanted to leave the house. It was almost like he was a hermit. It’s crazy, when you think he used to be in politics.”

  “Did you know about her extramarital activities?”

  She threw her head back, laughing. “That’s a lot of words to say she was having affairs. Yeah, she told me about them.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “She was having a good t
ime, especially with the guy, John, who owns that wine store in Waterside. He was a smoothie, made her feel good.”

  “And all she said about him and the relationship was that she was having a good time?”

  She smiled slyly. “Don’t tell me you want the saucy parts, Detective.”

  “We’re all adults here, Ms. Clermont. Anything you tell me is held in strict confidence and would be used for the investigation only.”

  She studied me for a moment. “I’m not really sure I understand what you mean.”

  “Anything that was unusual, it doesn’t have to be sexual, just anything, even the smallest thing you think might be helpful in drawing a complete picture of her and John Barnet.”

  She giggled. “You mean like if they were doing any S and M type thing?”

  “That could be something.”

  “Well, no way Marilyn would never, at least she didn’t tell me about it, do something like that. I mean, she got twisted when he filmed them together.”

  I leaned forward. “When they were having sex?”

  “That seems to have got your attention. Does pornography turn you on, Detective?”

  Heat flashed up my cheeks. “Not at all. It’s an interesting detail. You said she was twisted over it.”

  “You look even cuter when you blush.”

  “Marilyn was mad about the filming, right?”

  After a quick pout, she nodded. “She was upset about it because he did it without her permission.”

  “Why? She would have let him do it as long as she knew?”

  She put her feet on the cocktail table, revealing some of her fine china. “No, no. She didn’t like the idea at all. He told her he did it to add a little spice. You ask me, I think she was upset because it kinda suggests he was growing tired of her.”

  She was gunning for me, but even if I could cross the line, and my dad told me never to shit in your own backyard, I’d never run with someone like her. Looking over her head into the yard, I asked, “You seem to be saying the relationship was drawing to a close. Is that something she told you?”

  “Not directly, but us girls, we know when things ain’t right.”

  So, this was where the term, “pulling teeth” came from. “Do you have something more than a feeling?”

  She smiled and writhed like a snake. “Feeling it is what it’s all about. Don’t you agree?”

  I was getting ready to strangle her. “I need to understand what makes you believe they were having troubles.”

  “About a month ago Marilyn got really quiet, and that’s not like her. I asked her what was wrong, and she said nothing. But I knew it had to be him, so I said, “It’s John, isn’t it?” Marilyn nodded yes, but when I asked her if she wanted to talk about it, she said no.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Well, Marilyn wasn’t herself ever again. She seemed distracted. I tried to talk to her, but she said she didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Chapter 35

  Luca

  Sheriff Morgan was pulling on a cowboy boot when Vargas and I were shown into his office, and he said, “Pardon me, ma’am, but it felt like I had a piece of glass in my foot, but there’s nothing there.”

  I said, “You might want to check with a doctor. It sounds like you may have a plantar wart.”

  “Plantar wart? Is that something you Yanks brought down here too?”

  Vargas said, “It’s actually pretty common down here, Sheriff. Might be because we wear a lot of flip-flops and sandals.”

  Raising his boot up, he said, “Well, how the heck did I get something like that? I just about wear these to bed.”

  We all had a quick laugh before Morgan said, “We’ve got to tread carefully here with Mr. Brighthouse, or Gerey will have the dogs nipping at me.”

  “We understand, sir. Detective Luca and I have discussed our interview strategy, but we’re open to hearing your ideas on it.”

  “Heck, you’re the detectives on this case, and besides, Luca’s got big-city experience.” Morgan put his elbows on the desk and looked at each of us before saying, “I just want to make sure we measure at least twice before cutting.”

  Vargas and I bobbed our heads and Morgan said, “I don’t want this case hanging open when the new sheriff takes over, so go do what you know how to do.”

  ***

  Gideon Brighthouse and Peter Gerey were waiting in a black Ford Explorer parked in the rear lot. An officer was sent to tell them we were ready. It was the first time in ages that I hadn’t been able to keep someone stewing before interviewing them. The disruption in routine watered the seeds of self-doubt rattling around in my head.

  As agreed, I went to meet them at the rear entrance. There was a bear of a man walking with Gerey and Brighthouse. What was he doing here? Was he with Gerey? It was Bill Crowley, a high-profile criminal attorney. The doubt seeds sprouted. I wondered if Morgan had tipped off Gerey on what we had found.

  Crowley’s hand swallowed mine when we shook. While we headed to the interview room, everyone but Gideon made small talk. We got to the door, and as Crowley and Vargas entered, I pulled Gerey aside and said, “What’s up with Crowley?”

  “You know criminal law is not my area of expertise, Detective.”

  “Why does Brighthouse need a criminal lawyer all of a sudden?”

  “We’d like to avoid the possibility of a misunderstanding.”

  “So, you hire a top gun like him?”

  “The family has had Crowley on retainer for a decade.”

  “Really? And what about the family keeping a low profile?”

  “I can assure you, there won’t be any leaking coming from our team. And Detective, I hope I don’t need to remind you that my client is under the care of several doctors, both medical and psychiatric. As you ask your questions, I hope you’ll keep in mind that his emotional state is tenuous.”

  “As long as he cooperates, we’re fine.”

  “Good. Shall we get this started?”

  A fidgety Brighthouse brushed the seat of the plastic chair with his hand before sandwiching himself between his lawyers. He was wearing a pair of light yellow slacks and a blue linen shirt, providing a slice of color to the drab room.

  Nodding at Vargas, I hit the record button and she stated the attendees, location, date, and time. Formalities covered, I began.

  “Mr. Brighthouse, pursuant to a search warrant, we confiscated a mobile phone and laptop that belonged to you, as well as an iPad and phone belonging to your wife, Marilyn Boggs. You were present during the search, and we left an inventory receipt for the items, correct?”

  Brighthouse eyes were dull and he didn’t respond. Crowley gave him an elbow and whispered in his ear.

  “Ah, yes . . . it was very . . . upsetting.”

  “Are these the only electronics you own?”

  He blinked a couple of times. “Yes.”

  “Nothing like an iPod or Kindle reader?”

  “I prefer . . . to hold and read . . . a physical book. It’s more personal.”

  “Did you lend your electronics to anyone, Mr. Brighthouse?”

  “No.”

  Brighthouse took a sip of water.

  “So, no one else used or had access to your laptop or phone?”

  “As far . . . as I’m aware.”

  Gerey glanced at Crowley, who said, “There are a number of people who work on the island, in addition to the deceased, who had access to Mr. Brighthouse’s electronics, among his other possessions.”

  Vargas said, “Noted, though the remoteness of Keewaydin Island dramatically reduces the number of people with possible access.”

  Crowley said, “Reduce, maybe, but not eliminate the possibility.”

  I said, “Is there any particular reason you searched the Internet for poison, Mr. Brighthouse?”

  Brighthouse stiffened and reached for his water. “Poison? I don’t . . . recall.”

  “Let us freshen your memory then. Detective Vargas, can you help him remembe
r?”

  Vargas opened the file in front of her. “This is a list compiled by the electronics division in the Collier County Crime Lab.” She held up three pages. “It documents the browsing activity on the laptop confiscated during the search on Keewaydin Island.”

  I said, “There are over eighty searches for poisons and a dozen on electrical fires. It seems Mr. Brighthouse was trying to decide on just how to kill his wife.”

  Brighthouse began to squirm. Crowley put a hand on his forearm and said, “Searching the Internet isn’t a crime.”

  I grabbed the file and held up a document. “Not in itself, but he also browsed sites that detailed how much it would take to kill a human. And this history proves he researched and sought fatal poisons in more than enough quantity to kill his wife.”

  Crowley took a brief look at the receipt and said, “It makes for a nice story, but Marilyn Boggs died of stab wounds.”

  I tossed the papers toward them. “It shows a premeditated intent to kill.”

  Crowley said, “If you’re planning to charge my client for the death of his wife, I’d like to remind you that planning a murder and failing to act on it is not a crime.”

  “Noted, Counselor, but wouldn’t you say, since we have Marilyn Boggs’ dead body, that his plan was put into action?”

  “If you have evidence connecting Gideon Brighthouse with the stabbing death of his beloved wife, Marilyn, I suggest you reveal it. Otherwise, I believe it’s time for us to go.”

  I said, “I’m sure you’d like to know that in addition to finding a way to burn his wife to death, your client researched various poisons, even from a blowfish, going so far as to check on Japanese restaurants to stage the crime. I’d say that certainly qualifies as proof he was looking for a way to kill his wife without implicating himself.”

  “You weave a nice tale, Detective. But without evidence, there’s nothing to implicate my client, just a nice little story.”

  Crowley stood and Gerey popped to his feet so fast he stirred Brighthouse from his listlessness. Last time he was here he bolted; this time he looked ready for a nap. Crowley grabbed Brighthouse by the elbow and lifted him out of the chair.