Death of the Swami Schwartz (A Kate Kennedy Mystery Book 2) (17 page)

T
hirty-Eight

“A lot of m
otives for murder are going around, Charlie.” Standing alone on the end of the dock, staring out across the water like Jay Gatsby, Kate spoke aloud. Her one-sided conversations with Charlie had tapered off, but hadn’t ceased. She prayed they never would.

The cigarette boat rocked in the evening breeze that had picked up considerably since they’d arrived at Seacrest. She looked up at the sky. The clouds were turning gray and the temperature had dropped too. A gathering storm.

“Laurence might have two motives: A dead Swami couldn’t be Granny Magnolia’s biggest heir or the wealthy Dallas’ lively suitor.”

But was Laurence only after the Texan’s money? Their romantic performance in the garden would belie that theory. He and Dallas had been so enthralled, so enamored during the interlude that neither of them realized they had an audience.

“A penny for your thoughts.” The soft, refined voice coming from behind made her lurch. “They may be worth much more. Should I up the price?” A hand clutched her shoulder. “Careful, Mrs. Kennedy, you wouldn’t want to fall in, would you?”

If a threat, the doctor had caged it in dulcet tones.

With a burst of courage, what Charlie used to call spunk, she stiffened her spine, straightened her shoulders, and spun around, pleased that her movement made Gallagher lose his grip.

“Good evening.” She smiled warmly. “You’re just the man I wanted to see.”

“Oh?” His soft voice lacked curiosity. Almost a foot taller, he stared over her head at the water, not sharing her enthusiasm or meeting her eyes.

“Yes,” she sounded perkier than Mary Frances flirting with the widower, Joe Sajak. “You have such excellent taste, Dr. Gallagher, and, despite what Mrs. McFee says, I’m sure that the urn you selected and filled with Swami’s ashes is wonderful. But I’m so interested in East Indian art. Would you show me which one of Magnolia’s urns Swami will be spending eternity in?”

He blinked, then swayed for a second, seemingly speechless. Bingo! The doctor
had
brought the ashes with him. The breeze became a wind, whipping the cigarette boat against the dock, blowing Kate’s hair into her face. Raindrops pelted the back of her silk shirt.

“I understand you volunteered to perform Swami’s autopsy. That must have been very difficult for you.” Even as she spoke, Kate sensed she was missing something. The real motive. The truth. The secret Life Preserver link—she had to find a way to get into that lab. “You must have finished up the autopsy late last night. And then made special arrangements to have the body cremated today. Fast work, Doctor.”

They stood there, getting wet playing a waiting game. When he finally spoke, he sounded strangled. “You’re wrong. I only offered to do the autopsy after Nick Carbone told me the medical examiner, Horatio Harmon, had gone on holiday.”

Kate, thinking how convenient it would be for a murderer to perform an autopsy on his own victim, heard Charlie’s voice prompting her. “Or maybe you knew the coroner would be away.”

The butler, carrying the biggest black umbrella Kate had ever seen, came running. “Please come with me. Mrs. McFee needs both of you straight away. She’s about to start the rehearsal.”

An off-white canvas canopy had been rolled down and now covered the entire patio. Food, drink, and guests were dry. Except, of course, for Kate and Dr. Gallagher.

Mary Frances sat in the same rattan chair, holding a china plate heaped with Chinese food. Fried rice. Spare ribs. Egg rolls. Sweet & sour sauce. It looked like takeout. Maybe the very rich weren’t so different after all. Kate could only hope Mary Frances had waited for a food-taster before digging in.

Dallas and Laurence stood at the bar, sipping Scarlet O’Hara cocktails. For him to down that god-awful mix of grenadine and Southern Comfort, the man must be seriously smitten.

Alone at a small round table, Sanjay munched on an egg roll, his eyes fixed on Tiffani who stood in the center of the patio giving a dreadful reading of the Twenty-third Psalm. In front of the French doors, Magnolia waving a Bible, yelled, “Stop!”

The butler handed towels to Kate and Jack. “May I bring you some hot tea?”

“Thanks. That would be lovely.” Kate dried her hair. Her gray silk outfit was toast.

“Sir?” The butler addressed Jack Gallagher.

“Yes, and put a shot of brandy in it.”

“Tiffani, perhaps you’d do better with St. Paul.” Magnolia spoke with no conviction.

Hearing a rustling sound, Kate glanced toward the shrubbery and spotted Danny Mancini moving gracefully along the edge of the patio, using one hand to balance a tray above his head, looking very much like the waiter he once had been. And he was wearing expensive, if damp, new clothes.

“
Regardez
,” h
e shouted, sounding intoxicated. “I have here two bottles of cyanide that I found hidden in Magnolia’s azalea bushes.” Then he tumbled into a potted palm.

Thirty-Nine

“Aren’t you glad I lured you here?”

“You bet I’ve never been lured to dinner by a lovelier lady.” Harry clicked his martini glass against Marlene’s. “Here’s to South Beach.”

He locked eyes with her momentarily, then went back to ogling the passing parade of scantily dressed nubile women—their roller blades covered more skin than any other item of their clothing—skating down Ocean Drive. Marlene had never seen so many belly buttons in her life, but she couldn’t fault Harry. She’d been admiring the sexy topless guys showing off their sculptured muscles. The ocean, lighted by that famous moon over Miami, served only as a backdrop for these beauties.

Ah, youth. Even in her prime, Marlene hadn’t been nearly as confident, healthy, or striking as the current crop of young people and, in truth, she couldn’t remember any subsequent generation who’d topped this bunch.

Sitting on the sidewalk at a postage stamp-size table, they literally could have reached out over the outdoor cafe’s low wooden railing and touched the skaters. She’d bet more than one customer had tried.

“Is the food as great as the ambience?”

Though she tried not to, Marlene laughed. Harry’s eyes were locked on a diamond stud in a sixteen-year-old girl’s navel, but his voice didn’t hold a trace of irony. No doubt he expected Marlene to consider his question a compliment.

“Is something funny?”

Oh God, to think that only yesterday she’d found this jerk attractive.

“Everyone comes to Rick’s.” She forced a smile. “For both the lobster and the atmosphere.” She wondered how Harry would react if he knew she was planning to steal his car.

Fate had stepped
in, and her half-baked plan to sneak into Life Preserver emerged fully hatched. All because of a valet parking ticket.

After she’d easily sold him on South Beach, Harry had suggested they take his car. He’d be happy to drive her back to Boca, “no problem, dear lady,” he lived very near the hotel. When he’d turned in his ticket and paid the fee at the Boca Raton Hotel’s valet parking desk, Marlene noticed Harry carried every key he owned on the ring with his car key. One of them would open the door to Life Preserver.

All the way to Miami in his black SUV, she’d said very little, just kept nodding, smiling, patting his hand, and plotting.

Rick’s had valet parking too. And, because there were no parking spaces on the strip, the restaurant charged a bloody fortune. Harry had turned over his heavy key ring, put the ticket in his blazer pocket, and complained about the cost. Marlene had smiled and said, “I told you this would be my treat. And that includes the parking. So hand over that ticket, sir.”

Now all she
had to do was wait for him to go to the men’s room.

“Another martini, Harry? Or would you prefer, a tall glass of water?”

Sipping his second martini—she’d passed, knowing she had to remain alert—he started his sales pitch, going into great detail about the core cryonics group coming back together, often stealing word for word from Jack Gallagher.

Over the excellent jumbo shrimp cocktail, Marlene asked sweetly, “What happens if a patient opts to only have her head frozen?” She tried to sound sappy. “Do you think, by the time we return, science will have found a way to clone new bodies from our DNA?” She smiled. “If so, I’d like to be thirty pounds thinner.”

“Wouldn’t we all?”

Nature called between the appetizer and the main course.

Harry excused himself, leaving his blazer draped over his chair. Men made notoriously short pit stops. She didn’t have much time. But the blazer beckoned. She grabbed it, quickly rifling through the pockets. If Harry had no money, no cell phone, and no car, he’d be in a real pickle, wouldn’t he? Couldn’t pay the bill. Couldn’t call his boss. Well, he could, if he could find a payphone, but he’d have to call collect. She’d bet he hadn’t memorized Jack’s cell number. No one actually knew their friends’ or colleagues’ numbers. They just programmed them in. Dropping his wallet and phone into her bag, she calmly walked into the restaurant proper, then exited through the front door. No one seemed to notice she’d skipped out on the bill. Of course, if their waiter had noticed, he’d assume that Harry would be paying. She almost wished she could hang around and watch the fun.

Marlene never thought she’d be sitting in the driver’s seat of an SUV. These gas guzzlers should be banned. She hadn’t wanted to raise the valet’s suspicions by fussing around, trying to adjust the seat, so here she sat, way too high off the ground. Nonetheless, she was barreling up I-95, heading for Palmetto Beach. She’d pull over at the first rest stop and call Kate. She couldn’t wait to tell her about their upcoming breaking-and-entering caper.

For
ty

“Don’t touch that!” K
ate, trying to reach Nick Carbone on her cell phone, shouted as Laurence McFee stooped and reached for one of the bottles that had rolled under a table. “Those cyanide bottles are evidence.”

“Planted to make me look guilty!” Laurence screamed. “Everyone knows those azalea bushes are my turf.”

Not everyone. It was news to Kate. She’d never have pictured Laurence as a gardener, digging around in dirt. Jack and Sanjay lifted Danny out of the bushes and were helping him into a chair.

Magnolia wept softly. She collapsed into a rattan rocker, appearing ashen and frail.

Kate said, “Sanjay, you might want to check Mrs. McFee’s pulse.”

The butler arrived with hot coffee before anyone thought to ask.

“I’ll stick with my Scarlett O’Hara,” Dallas said, though she hadn’t been offered anything else. She swayed slightly, then clung to the bar.

Tiffani, who seemed to be in shock, suddenly stood and bolted out of the room.

Kate turned to Mary Frances who, to her credit, was gently applying a cold cloth to Danny’s head. “Can you please find Tiffani? Make sure she doesn’t try to leave.” Sanjay jerked his fingers away from Magnolia’s throat. “What are you saying, Mrs. Kennedy? You sound as though Tiffani has reason to run.”

“Nick Carbone.” The detective’s voice boomed in her ear.

“Danny Mancini’s here at Magnolia McFee’s. He arrived with two bottles of cyanide that he’d found in her azalea bush, then collapsed, but he seems to be coming around. Should I call the local police?”

“No need, I’m right outside, Kate. We had an all-points bulletin out on Danny. I was on my way to the Palm Beach police station to check out Harry Archer’s rap sheet when one of their patrol car drivers recognized Danny’s license plate and called me. So here I am, along with the officer who spotted him. Tell your hostess to open up the gates.”

Mary Frances returned with a sullen Tiffani in tow. When Sanjay tried to talk to the girl, she literally pushed him away, walked over to the bar, and poured a jigger of gin, which she downed neat. Kate wished she had a sweater. The night air had turned chilly. Cold. Her head ached, not to mention her stomach. So much happening—her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing around, always coming back to Swami Schwartz’s murder and Life Preserver’s mission. What if…?

Danny struggled to his feet as the butler led Nick and a young Latino police officer onto the terrace.

What if…? What if the ashes in Jack’s urn weren’t Swami’s? How crazy was that?

“Kate, I’m speaking to you.” Nick Carbone didn’t sound remotely cordial.

“Sorry.” Embarrassing. Since she couldn’t tell him what she’d been thinking, she fell silent.

Saving her from having to say anything, Danny inched toward Nick. “I apologize for my bad behavior. I shouldn’t have crashed into the party like that. But I’ll bet those cyanide bottles belong to Swami’s killer.” He spun around, surprisingly agile for a sick man, and pointed his index finger at Laurence. “Bang, bang, Flower Boy.”

An hour later,
Nick was driving Kate and Danny back to Palmetto Beach, and Mary Frances was following them in Danny’s car.

The young policeman had bagged the cyanide bottles. Danny had apologized for sneaking out of the hospital, explaining that Jack had been driving him crazy, but he felt much better now. And, no, he wasn’t going back to any hospital. Nick had warned everyone if prints were found on the bottles, he’d be asking all of them to come to the Palmetto Beach Police station tomorrow to be fingerprinted. An ugly end to the still-weeping Magnolia’s rehearsal.

Now, from the backseat, Kate asked Danny, “Where did you go?”

“I got out of the hospital without anyone asking me a question. Then I walked back to the beach, got my car and drove up to the Ritz-Carlton.”

“Really?” Kate tried not to laugh. “The Ritz?”

“Well, Jack told me I’d been left some real money in Swami’s will. So I checked in, ordered room service, had a gourmet lunch, and bought myself some new duds. Great shopping at the Ritz, Kate. I spent the afternoon at the pool, had a sauna, and decided to show up for the rehearsal.”

“How did you get in?”

“When the gate opened for Dallas, I drove in right behind her. Parked over to the side. Thought I’d nose around. Swami had told me about fighting with Laurence over Magnolia’s will. I figured that poor excuse for a man might have murdered my godson. Looks like I was right.”

Her phone rang. It could only be Marlene, so she had to take it.

“Hello.”

“I have the key to Life Preserver and we’re going in. Where are you?”

Kate gulped. “Er…just crossing into Broward County. I’m with Nick Carbone; we’re driving Danny home.”

“There’s no time to spare. Ditch them. Have Carbone drop you off first at Ocean Vista. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”