Dead Air: A Talk Radio Mystery (26 page)

I moaned softly and sank down next to her on the sofa. I was terribly rude? What was Mom doing now—channeling Emily Post? I felt the beginnings of a killer headache flare up behind my eyes, and I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing it away.

I turned to Mom. “What happened outside?” I hissed. “You were supposed to be the lookout for me.”

“It didn’t quite work out that way.”

I’ll say
.

Mom’s lips twitched, and I realized she was enjoying my predicament. “Ray pulled in next to me and asked me what we were doing here.” She gave a helpless little shrug as if that explained everything.

“I didn’t figure you were the Welcome Wagon lady,” he said, snickering. “She’s already come and gone and left me some jelly donuts. They were from the day-old store, but I ate them anyway.”

Ray Hicks, master of the bon mot. I ignored him and focused on Mom. “And you told him . . . ,” I prompted.

“And I told him that your roommate was accused of killing Sanjay and we really had to do everything possible to prove her innocence. That we’d launched our own investigation since we didn’t trust the Cypress Grove PD to do it properly. We knew it was very naughty to come back to the trailer uninvited”—she giggled girlishly—“but we just couldn’t help ourselves. We would do anything to help Lark.”

Leave it to Mom to show our hand. I shook my head in dismay. If Ray was the killer, now he would certainly cover his tracks and send us off in the wrong direction. Time for some expert damage control, Dr. Maggie style.

“I thought you were gone for the evening,” I said briskly to Ray. “I apologize for letting myself into your trailer.” I figured it was better to say nothing about the Visa card and just let him think that the door had magically opened by itself, or that he’d left it unlocked.

I made a conscious effort to keep my body language open, my tone pleasant. I even arranged my features into a smile. I found it very hard to smile at Ray Hicks, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He nodded, as if he accepted this explanation.

“No harm, no foul,” he said gruffly. “I’d probably do the same for a friend.” He opened the miniature fridge, popped open another beer, and offered me one. I waved it away with my hand, my mind still mulling over the new turn of events. One question was nibbling at the edge of my thoughts. “What happened to the dogs? Where are they?”

“The dogs? Oh, they belong to my brother. I was just keepin’ ’em for a few days while he went down to Orlando with his family. He came back this afternoon and picked them up.”

“You told us you always spent Friday nights at a tavern,” Mom said.

“So I did. But when I got down to the Crab Shack, I saw that my favorite bartender wasn’t workin’ tonight, so I came home after a couple of beers. Figured I’d watch a little television and relax.” He grinned. “Never thought I’d see Thelma and Louise campin’ out here, though.” He laughed and slapped his thigh. “Man, you two are one for the books.”

“Look,” I said firmly, determined to end this silly charade. “You’ve got to explain how you got this book. You told us earlier you’d never been to Cypress Grove and you never attended the conference.” I tapped the cover decisively. “Yet I find an autographed book and it’s signed and dated on the day Sanjay died.”

“Well, here’s the thing, missy,” Ray said, sitting down on a stained armchair. “I wasn’t completely honest with you.” I started to interrupt, but he held up his hand. “Yes, I was in Cypress Grove. I lied about that. I figured it would be my last chance to see Sanjay and figure out if I was going to get any of my money back. I was so fed up, I would have taken twenty cents on the dollar at that point. It was better than nothing.”

“You were there,” I said softly. I was surprised he admitted it.

“Yep. So I did lie to you, but I didn’t lie about the important part of the story. I didn’t kill him. What would be the point? The money was gone and the money was all I ever cared about. Knocking him off wouldn’t get me back a penny of my investment. Why bother?”

“I believe you,” Mom said feelingly, and I shot her a look. Why were we having a lovefest with this guy? He was still a suspect—maybe our best suspect.

“Not so fast, Mom.” I looked at Ray. “So you’re telling me you did talk to Sanjay and he signed this book for you.”

“Not exactly.” Ray wiped his hands on his grubby jeans. “I never stuck around to see Sanjay. He was doing those crazy workshops, and he had goons surrounding him every minute. You couldn’t get past them, you know?” I nodded. I remembered the guy in the black T-shirt who stopped me at the back of the conference room. And the two gorillas who’d accompanied Sanjay to the WYME interview. “So I figured I’d have a drink at the bar and hit the road. It wasn’t worth my time to spend the whole day listening to him spouting off, and I knew he probably would brush me off. I decided to have a quick beer at the bar, and that’s when I met Travis.”

“Travis?” The name sounded vaguely familiar, and I remembered seeing it on an organizational chart of Team Sanjay in a seminar brochure.

“Travis Carter. He’s a nice guy, but he got screwed over by Sanjay, too.” He snorted. “Looks like we both got taken in by him. His situation was different from mine, but Sanjay stole from him just the same. It wasn’t a real estate deal, though. It had to do with work.”

“Travis was an assistant to Sanjay, or an associate or something, wasn’t he?” I suddenly remembered that Travis Carter was the one who had sent me a press kit about Sanjay’s latest book so I’d be prepared for the interview.

Ray leaned back in the armchair. “Well, that’s what Sanjay wanted everyone to think. But the truth is, Travis was the brains behind Sanjay’s next book.”

I raised my eyebrows. “His next book? You don’t mean
Heal the Cosmos
?”

“Nah. The next book was the one that was gonna make a fortune for Sanjay. It was going to be bigger than all his other books put together. Travis told me there was a lot of—what’s the word . . . noise? I think that’s what he called it. He said there was a lot of noise about the book already.”

“Noise? Do you mean buzz?”

Ray nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. He used the word ‘buzz.’ He said there was gonna be a lot of buzz about this particular book. And that didn’t sit well with Travis, let me tell you. He could see that Sanjay was going to make a ton of money and he was gonna be left looking like a schmuck.”

“Why’s that?” Mom said, leaning forward. “Why would he be concerned about Sanjay making a lot of money on the book?”

“Because Travis is the feller who wrote it.”

“Travis Carter wrote it?” I was stunned.

“He sure did. He did all the research and spent about five years of his life puttin’ it all together. But he made a big mistake. Yessiree.” Ray wagged his index finger for emphasis and put his beer down on the scratched coffee table.

“And what was that?” I was so caught up in the story, I almost forgot that Ray could be fabricating the whole tale, making it up as he went along.

“Well, here’s the thing. He gave Sanjay all his research notes. Every lick of paper connected to the book.” Ray raised his eyebrows. “And ole Sanjay just ran with it. He decided to peddle it as his own book. Not a word about Travis or the work he’d done.”

“Wow,” Mom said softly. “I can’t believe Sanjay would do that.”

Ray took another swig of beer. “It makes sense if you think on it a little. Sanjay was the one with the big connections and a New York agent. He just added a few lines here and there, and he was gonna pass it off as his own. Pretty smart, huh?”

“This is amazing.” I shook my head. “When Sanjay was a guest on my show, he didn’t say a word about another book coming out. All he wanted to do was promote
Heal the Cosmos
. He never let on there was anything else in the pipeline.”

“Sanjay was a pretty shrewd guy, you know. He knew how to play his cards close to his vest. He figured no one would be the wiser, and he was right. I don’t even know if his agent was in on it. Travis was going to be left holding the bag once the new book came out.”

“But what evidence did Sanjay have that he actually wrote it?” I wondered what Nick, my investigative reporter pal, would make of all this. I tried to remember other plagiarism cases I’d heard of. Hadn’t there been lawsuits? “What was he going to do if anyone challenged him on it?”

“Oh, Sanjay doctored up some e-mails to prove it was his idea all along and that Travis was just a jealous employee. You know, a wannabe. Some nobody who was tryin’ to ride the coattails of a big star. He said it happens all the time and the public would believe him, not some nobody even if he did have a bunch of fancy degrees.”

I suddenly thought of Lenore Cooper. She had a “bunch of fancy degrees” and had been left out in the cold by Sanjay, too. His career had soared, while her star had fallen. Was this a case of history repeating itself? He’d stolen from Lenore in a way, too. Sanjay had learned the ropes from her, glommed on to her career, and figured out how to write books and give seminars. The minute he had what he needed from her, he’d dumped her.

For a moment, there was dead silence in the trailer as we pondered this new information. Mom shot me a questioning look, but I tried to keep my face completely neutral.

This put a completely different spin on things, but was Ray telling the truth? Or was he simply trying to divert suspicion away from himself and onto Travis Carter? A good offense is the best defense, and even a backwoods guy like Ray Hicks probably had a strong survival instinct.

“What happened then?”

“Well, Travis was hopping mad; that much I know. He was drinking and talking up a storm. He said he wasn’t going to roll over and take it. I knew he was up to something, but I didn’t know what.”

“But why didn’t Travis consider going to the police or a lawyer?” Mom asked. “How could he let Sanjay get away with this?”

“I guess he figured he had no choice. Sanjay had a whole legal team on retainer. He said he’d hammer Travis into the ground and drain his bank account dry if he ever tried to sue him. I guess Travis was scared of him.”

“It certainly sounds that way,” I offered.

“Sanjay isn’t the kind of guy you want to mess with.” Ray gave me a meaningful look. “If you dig into his background a little, you’ll see what I mean.”

Chapter 25

“What did you think about all that?” I was driving a little too fast, speeding south on A1A. “I still can’t figure out Ray Hicks. The whole story about Travis Carter was puzzling, wasn’t it?”

“I’ll say. Puzzling isn’t the word for it.” Mom leaned forward and braced her hand on the dashboard, her signal to me that she didn’t like my driving.

I eased up on the gas a little, my thoughts swirling. I was rattled by this sudden turn of events and decided I needed a good night’s sleep to deal with it. Mom had suggested we spend the night in her condo and visit South Beach again the next day.

I quickly agreed. We’d have a shot at meeting Travis Carter, or at least visiting Sanjay’s headquarters. I decided it was best to visit the corporate offices unannounced. I was sure Travis would blow me off with some flimsy excuse if I tried to make an appointment to see him. I wanted to have the element of surprise on my side.

As far as I knew, all the employees were still on duty, and someone must be doing strategic planning for the company. Sanjay the guru was gone, but Sanjay the brand was still going strong. His name and photo were splashed all over the tabloids, and I heard
People
magazine was doing a cover story on him later in the week. I wondered what it would say about how he died.

“You know, there was something convincing about the man,” Mom said, cutting into my thoughts. “I hate to say it, but I think Ray Hicks was telling the truth.”

Mom rolled down the window, and the balmy night air rushed in, tinged with the scent of the sea. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied thinking about Sanjay, I would have enjoyed the drive along the ocean.

“I know. It means we’re back to square one. I was sure Ray Hicks was our number-one suspect.”

“And now everything is up for grabs,” she pointed out. “Funny, it goes along with Sanjay’s theory. Just when you think you’ve figured something out, the universe tilts and you’re right back where you started.”

“Exactly.”

We rolled into the parking lot of Mom’s condo around nine o’clock and had a late supper of grilled cheese sandwiches and sangria at the kitchen table. Mom drifted off to watch an old Marilyn Monroe movie on Turner Classic Movies, and I decided to go over my suspect list. I poured myself another glass of wine, grabbed a legal pad, and scribbled some notes.

Travis Carter’s name was now at the head of the list, but realistically, I wouldn’t know anything more until we met up with him tomorrow morning. Still, he was a strong suspect, if Ray Hicks’s story was credible. Money, jealousy, and revenge are proven motivators for murder.

What did Travis have to gain by Sanjay’s death?

He must have been angry and resentful at Sanjay’s plan to highjack his book, and maybe he really felt he had no legal recourse. I decided to see what Nick’s take was on all this when I got back home.

As an investigative reporter, Nick might be able to tell me whether Travis really had no legal recourse, or Ray Hicks was just blowing smoke with the story. And without a manuscript, how would I know if a book even existed—or that Travis really wrote it? Would Travis just wait a decent interval and then peddle the book to a New York publisher or agent himself?

I made a note to ask Miriam Dobosh about Travis. She’d offered to help out with the investigation, but I remembered Nick’s warning that sometimes the person who offers to help you solve the crime is the guilty party.

An interesting thought.

Miriam was still number two on my list. She didn’t appear to be angry or resentful when we met at the Delano Hotel. In fact, she seemed to be protective of Sanjay’s name and reputation. I was drawing a blank on her, and I couldn’t quite get a handle on her motive. Unless she had killed him in a fit of rage.