Death is a Bargain (A Kate Kennedy Mystery Book 3) (13 page)

Twenty-Seven

If Marlene asked one more time what was wrong, a question Kate couldn’t even begin to answer with Donna’s son clutching her hand, she’d scream.

“Ixnay.” She tried Pig Latin, hoping Marlene might remember the word from a language they’d learned as pre-teens, used briefly—so proud to have broken Kate’s mother and father’s secret code that had shielded the girls from unsuitable adult conversation—and then, for the most part, had forgotten.

Would she ever get out of this lobby? Or was she damned to pace its tile floor like the dead paced the deck on Charon’s ferry as they crossed the river Styx? Would Broward General Hospital become her own personal purgatory? Kate, the penitent, confessed. Mea culpa, mea culpa: Guilty as Donna charged. She was a judgmental old snob. How much time would she have to serve?

Nick Carbone, leaning heavily on a cane, limped toward them.

“Good God, Kate, you’re pale as a corpse. And who the hell is ixnay?” Marlene sounded frightened. “South Florida is still part of America, you don’t have to talk to Carbone if you don’t want to.”

“Not who. What.” With her free hand, Kate rubbed her forehead, sweaty despite the air-conditioning. “Ixnay is Pig Latin for nix.”

Marlene just stared at her.

Kate released Billy’s hand. “Nick is the least of my problems. Take Billy to the car. Let him play with his new ambulance. I’ll meet you there.”

Nick Carbone was close enough to touch.

She held her head high, nodded in Nick’s direction, then whispered one final order to Marlene. “Please go. I can’t answer any questions now. Not yours. Not his. Not even my own. Don’t worry. I’ll get rid of Nick.”

“You will, huh?” Nothing wrong with the detective’s hearing.

Minus a minor, Kate couldn’t be sure, but Nick had to look worse than she did. Murder had an aging effect, especially for those trying to catch a killer. Her guilt-filled head found room to pity her fellow investigator.

“What can I do for you, Nick?” Pleasant. Polite. Congenial.

“For starters, you can tell me why you tampered with evidence in Donna Viera’s apartment.”

Not purgatory. Hell. No reprieve. The souls in purgatory eventually got out. In hell, the sentence, eternal damnation, had no possibility of parole. “Why would you say a thing like that?” Kate tried a defensive tactic…and not a very good one.

“Please drop by the police station this afternoon, Kate.” Pleasant. Polite. Congenial.

“Why?” She came across as much bolder than she felt.

“To have your fingerprints taken. We’d like to see if they match the prints on several pieces of a negative found in the Viera apartment.”

“Well, well, hello, Mrs. Kennedy.” Sean Cunningham had slithered up to them unnoticed. Freshly bathed and dressed in a white shirt and crisp khakis, the man still appeared rancid.

“Fancy running into you, Kate. Visiting our Donna, are you?” Linda, in fiery red Capri pants and a matching tube top, carried a huge bouquet of orchids and a small doll dressed in a replica of Donna’s blue drum majorette costume. She tossed her blonde curls, turned away from Kate, and pointed a red-tipped finger at Nick’s cane. “Are you a patient here too, Detective?”

“Just leaving.” Nick sounded strained, and Kate could see he was in pain. “Since you and I have an appointment at six, Mrs. Rutledge, I’ll see you later.”

“Now I trust you won’t be keeping Linda at the police station too long, Detective.” Sean favored Carbone with his broad clown smile. “I’m holding a wee wake for Whitey tonight at seven, and I wouldn’t want one of the loves of his life to be missing it.”

“At your place?” Nick asked. “I might drop by.”

Sean nodded, his smile shrinking to a grimace.

As Nick hobbled off, he almost bumped into Suzanna and Olivia Jordan, who’d just arrived.

Hail, hail, the gang’s all here. Broward General Hospital’s lobby: crossroads of murder suspects. How Kate would love to know which of the four had electrocuted Whitey, planted the smoke bombs, and shot Carl and Freddie.

Sean seemed the most obvious candidate for the last two murders. He’d been in the circus for the entire matinee and only exited after the firemen had discovered Carl’s body.

Though a prime suspect for Whitey’s murder, Linda seemed to be out of contention for the flea market murders. She’d been in the corridor with Marlene when the smoke bombs were planted in the circus. Of course, she could have had an accomplice. Why would an innocent woman have lied to Marlene about her past?

Suzanna had never returned to the corridor after her scene with Freddie. Where had she been? Planting smoke bombs? Shooting Carl and Freddie? Kate appraised Suzanna’s cool beauty as she greeted Sean and Linda, who were getting visitors’ passes at the reception desk. Was Mama Jordan capable of triple murder? To protect her daughter from Whitey? From Freddie’s blackmail? And could Suzanna and Whitey have been involved? Not unlikely with this bunch. The man seemed to have slept his way through the corridor.
“Your kind always thinks the worst of my kind.
” Donna’s haunting words stung anew. Kate flushed, wanted to flee.

“You’re leaving, Mrs. Kennedy?” Olivia asked in her soft voice, with its perfect diction.

Kate nodded. “Yes, Marlene and Billy are waiting outside.”

“It’s still only two visitors at a time,” the receptionist said.

“First come, first served,” Linda said. “Let’s go see the patient, Sean.”

The clown reached into his shirt pocket and handed Kate a card. “My address. I’d like you and Marlene to join us for Whitey’s wake. After all, you’re part of our corridor family now.”

Kate hoped her shiver didn’t show. Repulsed or not, she wouldn’t miss this wake if her life depended on it. She took the card. “Thanks. I’ll be there.”

Sean winked. “I knew you’d come.” Before Kate could process his words, he spun around and stepped into the elevator, patting Linda’s backside.

Olivia sighed. “He’s a pig, Mrs. Kennedy. “If Mom and I didn’t need the corridor to make a decent living, I’d slit him up the middle, roast him on a spit, and feed him to the tigers.”

Kate believed her. She also believed Olivia would have been more than capable of planting smoke bombs, shooting Carl and Freddie, and then returning to the corridor, pretending to be all upset by Freddie’s blackmail letter. Disarming and shrewd. A dangerous combination.

And, unlike her mother, Olivia was hefty enough to have tossed Freddie’s body into the feed bin.

The fresh air cleared Kate’s head. She walked briskly through the parking area, thinking Marlene must be ready to retire from babysitting.

As she drew closer to the Chevy convertible she noticed an old maroon car—a Ford, she thought—a row over. It looked a lot like the one that had appeared to be tailing them earlier. Strange. Had one of the four suspects arrived in that car? Maybe Marlene had spotted the driver.

Billy and Marlene were nowhere to be found. Kate felt a surge of panic, starting in her stomach and rising to her heart. Then she heard laughter.

“Kate!” Marlene called. “Over here.”

Her sister-in-law’s head popped up from behind an SUV the size of a New York City studio apartment “We’re playing hide and seek.”

Kate walked around the vehicle’s rear end. Marlene crouched behind the front wheel, wide enough to cover her considerable girth.

“Where’s Billy?”

Marlene gave her one of those “how dumb can you be” looks. “If I’m hiding, Kate, obviously, he’s seeking.” Panic took control. Kate screamed. “What’s wrong with you, Marlene? There’s a killer loose in the hospital, and you don’t know where Billy is?”

“I found you, Marlene.” Billy’s head poked around the front of the car.

Five minutes later, Kate had apologized for overreacting, and Marlene had allowed that she might have been a tad cavalier.

Kate mentioned Donna’s four visitors and that Nick had asked her to stop by the police station, but she couldn’t share her feelings or suspicions with Billy in the backseat. The boy chattered happily, repeating Kate’s mantra. “Mommy will be home soon.”

As they approached the sharp left turn onto A1A, Marlene braked, but the car kept going, picking up speed, out of control. Missing a van full of teenagers heading south, they almost flew across the highway onto the beach and, for a brief moment, seemed to hover over the sand. Only then did Kate remember she’d forgotten to ask Marlene and Billy about the maroon car and, worse, hadn’t written down its license plate number.

The last thing she heard as her forehead hit the windshield was Billy screaming.

Twe
nty-Eight

“It’s only a goose egg, Marlene. For the last time. I’m not going to the emergency room.” Kate pressed an ice bag to her forehead. “If I had my way, I’d never again step foot into Broward General, Palmetto Beach Medical Center or, for that matter, the Mayo Clinic.”

Marlene and Kate were sitting on the off-white couch in Kate’s off-white living room, furnished in pale neutrals by her son Peter’s partner, a psychiatrist by profession but an interior decorator by passion. Charlie, who’d died before they could move into the apartment, had taken one look at its decor and accused Edmund of being a closet color-phobic. With the couch now sporting the Westie’s claw marks and dubious stains, Charlie would have felt more at home.

Billy and Ballou sat between them, the former very concerned about Kate’s sore head, the latter seeming to sense his mistress needed the comfort of a close encounter with his white fur.

Late-afternoon sun streamed in through the balcony doors; its rays, like a washed-out rainbow, reflected in the coffee table’s glass top.

Kale counted her blessings. Despite several sunbathers being startled out of their prone positions, no one, including the Chevy’s three passengers, had been hurt.

As scantily clad teenagers gaped, one little blonde beauty had offered ice wrapped in a yellow polka-dot towel that matched her bikini. Then, smelling of suntan lotion and salt, she’d held the ice against Kate’s head, her quick act of kindness preventing Kate’s forehead from being even more swollen and black and blue.

Considering the careening car could have killed some of the sunbathers, the spring breakers had responded like angels of mercy. The Fort Lauderdale police hadn’t been nearly as accommodating, asking lots of rude questions and giving an indignant Marlene a sobriety test. Kate giggled nervously, wondering if they’d ask Marlene to walk a line drawn in the sand. Instead, Marlene had to bring her index finger to her nose and keep her balance while standing on one foot.

The police had given Marlene a citation for reckless driving, but as they were still nosing around, Marlene’s mechanic from her gas station at the corner of A1A and Oakland Park Boulevard arrived and insisted that someone, maybe a vandal, had jimmied around with the brakes.

Not a vandal, Kate thought as she petted Ballou. A killer. A killer who drove an old-model maroon car and who, bold as brass, had done his dirty work in the Broward General Hospital’s parking lot. A killer who’d stalked them, then returned and seized the day while Marlene and Billy were off playing hide and seek.

A killer she would catch if—well, if it killed her.

“You’re not going to the police station. I’m calling Nick Carbone now and canceling.” Marlene stood.

“It’s not a dentist appointment, you know, it’s a command performance.” Kate wondered what being fingerprinted would be like. Would she be treated like a criminal? She wasn’t frightened. Not really. Just curious.

“I want to see the police cars.” Billy made a screech-like siren sound, causing Ballou’s ears to perk up. “Let’s go, please, let’s go.”

Marlene had whipped out her cell phone. “Kate, your stomach must be in a knot. And forget about a goose egg, that bump on your forehead is the size of an ostrich egg. You should be in bed.” She pressed some numbers. “Information, I need the Palmetto Beach Police Department’s number, please.”

Kate stood too, hoping she wouldn’t wobble. “You listen to me, Marlene. My decision is made. I’m going to take two Tylenol and a Pepcid AC, then I’m going to the police station to have my fingerprints taken. So now you decide. Do you want to stay here and watch Billy? Or do you both want to come with me?”

No contest. Marlene snapped her cell phone shut.

Kate sank down in the front passenger seat, trying to get comfortable and feeling grateful she wasn’t behind the wheel. Since Marlene’s car had been towed to the gas station for a complete overhaul, she’d offered to drive Kate’s bland Chevy—a much newer model, but not nearly as much fun as Marlene’s now laid-up vintage convertible.

In the backseat, Billy chattered about his favorite detective show. He knew all the main characters by name.

How late did Donna let the boy stay up? Kate checked
her inner critic to make certain her judgment call hadn’t been based on either elitism or class consciousness. Life as a recovering snob wasn’t going to be easy.

The Neptune Boulevard Bridge was down, so in less than ten minutes they were turning north on Federal Highway.

The box-shaped, beige stucco, really ugly Palmetto Beach Police Department building shared a parking lot with Town Hall, another homely edifice. An edgy Kate found herself checking the lot for a maroon car. Someone had tried to kill them this afternoon. A totally cruel someone who’d been aware a small boy was in the car.

This wasn’t Kate and Marlene’s first visit to police headquarters. Nothing had changed. The grimy, gritty waiting room with its pale green walls and cheap rattan furniture still looked like a low-rent dentist’s office, and the same handsome, young African-American policeman still manned the metal desk.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Kennedy.” He smiled, briefly. “And I see you have your sister with you.”

“Sister-in-law, Officer.” Kate smiled back.

“And the young man?”

“I’m Billy. Can I ride in a police car with a siren?”

“Well, I think we can arrange that.” The policeman met Kate’s eyes. She saw no warmth. “Mrs. Kennedy, I know Detective Carbone wants to see you alone.” He nodded at Marlene, then picked up the phone on his desk. “I’m calling our community relations director. She’ll be happy to give this young man and your sister-in-law a nice, long ride in a patrol car.”

“With a siren?” Billy’s smile, the only genuine one in the waiting room, sparkled.

“Yes, a really loud siren.” The policeman hit three numbers on his phone.

“Isn’t that special?” Marlene didn’t even attempt a smile. Her sneer said it all.

A curt Carbone greeted Kate. “Sit down, you look ill.” She bristled, but laughter quickly replaced anger. “Well, coming from a man who looks like death, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He laughed with her.

“Listen, Nick, I admit I picked up the pieces of that negative in Donna’s apartment. I’m guilty. Do I still have to be fingerprinted?” She could picture Charlie up in heaven, shaking his head and groaning.

“You confess to tampering with evidence.” Did she only imagine a hint of amusement in his voice?

“I didn’t tamper, I only touched, then left the pieces for the police to find.”

“As a homicide detective’s widow, you know better, Kate.”

“Did you find the
Times
editorial?” She decided to tell all. Be up front. God, could she be in real trouble here? Did she need a lawyer? Her head hurt. Suddenly, a gentle breeze seemed to caress her lips. Charlie sending her a message to seal them?

“Anything else you’d like to confess to, Kate?”

“Look, I snooped, but that’s all I found, and I left everything there for you.”

“The Palmetto Beach Homicide Department will be eternally grateful.” Nick sounded really angry.

“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

He stood, leaning heavily on his cane. “You’re in danger, too.”

She bit her lip, afraid she’d cry. “You know about Marlene’s car.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me everything that’s happened since you gals went to work at the flea market?” He phrased it as a question, but Kate recognized an order when she heard one.

She’d talk. But terrified as she felt, she realized—and resented—that Nick wouldn’t share what he’d found out with her.