Murder Packs a Suitcase (19 page)

Somehow, it seemed fitting to Mallory that she meet with Phil's ex-wife in a McDonald's that held the distinction of being the largest in the world. Everything in Orlando was the biggest, the best, or at least the weirdest. Why should something as mundane as a fast-food restaurant be any different?

But she knew perfectly well that it wasn't the meeting place that mattered. It was the information Patrice would hopefully have about her ex—information that Mallory hoped would lead her closer to the man's murderer and farther away from Detective Martinez's list of persons of interest.

13

“If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid the people, you might better stay at home.”

—James A. Michener

M
allory actually felt optimistic as she headed back to the hotel. She was finally making progress with her investigation. Tracking down Patrice—and getting her to agree to talk to her—represented a major step in unraveling the details of Phil Diamond's past. She was still hopeful that understanding everything he had done and everyone he had angered while doing it would enable her to reconstruct the emotions and events that had led to his murder.

She was about to go back to her room to luxuriate in this rare wave of good feeling when she suddenly remembered that today was Annabelle's birthday.

Oh, my gosh! she thought guiltily. Here I spent the entire morning with her and not once did it occur to me to wish her a happy birthday.

The likelihood that no one else had remembered, either, only made her feel worse. Spending one's birthday alone struck her as terribly sad, especially since turning forty was a major milestone in any woman's life. On top of that, this particular woman had just lost the love of her life—because he was murdered, no less. She wracked her brain, trying to come up with a way to acknowledge the occasion without looking as if she had forgotten about it until the very last minute.

She realized she was holding the solution to the problem in her hand.

Mallory thought of calling first, but decided that birthdays were all about surprises. And if Annabelle had gone out to celebrate, Mallory decided as she rode up the elevator, she would simply try again later.

She rapped on Annabelle's door, braced for the possibility that no one would answer. Instead, it opened almost immediately.

“Mallory!” Annabelle exclaimed, her eyes widening. “I thought you were Room Service.”

Annabelle was dressed in the fluffy white bathrobe the hotel provided and a pair of dark socks. She would have looked as if she was enjoying an evening by herself if her eyes hadn't been rimmed in red. The television, which was tuned to CNN, blared from the other side of the room.

“I hope you don't mind me dropping by unannounced,” Mallory said, realizing that calling first wouldn't have been a bad idea, after all. “I have a birthday present for you.” She handed Annabelle one of her purchases from Shell World, wrapped in a cloud of white tissue paper.

A look of astonishment crossed Annabelle's face. “You remembered?”

“Of course.”

“Come in.” Annabelle still looked stunned as she studied the small gift. “Wow. That was really thoughtful, Mallory.”

“It's not much,” she said quickly. “Just a token.”

Annabelle switched off the TV with the remote and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Can I open it now?”

“Please do.”

The vehemence with which Annabelle tore off the paper reminded Mallory of Jordan when he was five years old. She half expected the woman's face to droop with disappointment when she saw what the present was. Instead, she simply looked confused by the tiny square box that was covered with seashells. She opened it, as if she thought there might be something inside, then snapped it shut again when she saw it was empty.

“I know it's tiny,” Mallory said apologetically, “but I suppose you could put jewelry in it. Small jewelry, anyway.”

“Where on earth did you find something like this?”

“I went to a store called Shell World today. It was full of things that were either made out of shells or decorated with them. Shell night-lights, shell wind chimes, shell jewelry, you name it.”

“It was very thoughtful of you,” Annabelle assured her, placing the box on the night table. “Thanks a lot. I mean it.”

“I was glad I found something that's unique to Florida,” Mallory babbled. “That way, it'll always remind you of this—”

She stopped mid-sentence, having realized the implications of her statement just a few seconds too late. Of course Annabelle would never forget this trip. How could she, when the man with whom she'd been having an affair for years had been murdered?

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I—I wasn't thinking.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“Anyway, happy birthday.” She paused, trying to think of something else to say to get past the awkward moment. “That birthday cake Courtney promised never materialized, did it? I guess she forgot about it after everything that happened.”

“It's okay,” Annabelle insisted, her tone just a little too brusque. “I'm a big girl. I don't need a big celebration with a lot of people making a fuss over me.”

As she spoke, her eyes drifted over to the round table in the corner. Mallory automatically looked in the same direction. Sitting on it was a tray that looked as if it had been delivered earlier by Room Service, littered with the remains of a dinner eaten alone in a hotel room. A white linen napkin smudged with lipstick was loosely folded along one side, and a few chicken bones stuck out from beneath the silver dome that was askew on the dinner plate. A small carafe containing only a quarter-inch of red wine stood next to an empty glass.

Sitting on the table next to the tray was a partially eaten piece of chocolate cake decorated with a single birthday candle.

Mallory pretended she hadn't noticed any of it. She averted her eyes and looked around the room, hoping to find something less embarrassing to focus on.

Her eyes lit on the top of the dresser, where she noticed something that was very small yet so shiny that it glinted. It took a moment or two for her to realize it was a ring.

Next to it was a black-and-white photograph in a silver frame. Even though it lay flat, she could see that the woman in the picture wore an old-fashioned white dress. Her dark hair was styled in a way that reminded Mallory of a 1940s Joan Crawford movie. Oddly enough, she was holding her hand toward the camera.

Annabelle's eyes traveled in the same direction as Mallory's. “Oh!” she squawked.

“What a pretty ring,” Mallory commented, wanting to smooth over Annabelle's obvious embarrassment, even though she didn't understand what Annabelle was embarrassed about. “Mind if I take a closer look?”

“Be my guest,” Annabelle said woodenly.

Glancing over at her, Mallory noticed that all the blood had drained from Annabelle's face. Still, she picked up the ring and examined it. The intricate filigree ring was set with a large diamond, with at least half a dozen small diamonds studding the delicate strands of gold that surrounded it.

“Wow, it's gorgeous,” she commented. “Kind of old-fashioned, though. It's so ornate. Rings tend to be a bit plainer these days.” She made a point of looking at Annabelle so she could gauge her reaction as she added, “Especially engagement rings.”

There was a frantic look in Annabelle's eyes. “It was my grandmother's ring,” she blurted out. “That's her in the photograph. This was taken on her wedding day, right before the ceremony.”

Comparing the ring in her hand with the one in the picture, Mallory could see that they were indeed one and the same.

“This ring looks pretty valuable,” she said, putting it back on the dresser.

“I suppose it is,” Annabelle replied. “But what's even more important than its monetary value is the fact that it's a family heirloom.”

“In that case, shouldn't you keep it in the safe? There's one in my closet and there must be one in yours.”

“I have been,” Annabelle said defensively. “I just took it out a minute ago to look at it.”

“I'm kind of new to this travel thing,” Mallory said in what she hoped was a conversational tone, “but wouldn't it be better to leave something that valuable at home? It would be so easy for it to get lost. Or stolen.”

“I'm taking excellent care of it.” As if to demonstrate, Annabelle strode over to the dresser, picked up the ring, and slid it on her finger. Mallory noted that she slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand.

“Maybe I'm just cautious by nature,” Mallory said, hoping she wasn't pushing too hard, “but I can't help wondering why you'd bring such a valuable ring on a trip like this.”

“I just wanted to have it with me, that's all.” Annabelle's voice sounded much higher than usual. “Today's my fortieth birthday, and…and it seemed like something it would be nice to wear. As a way of celebrating such an important occasion, I mean. I don't own that many valuable things. Or beautiful things, for that matter.”

“Of course.” Mallory smiled, wanting to make sure she hadn't generated any bad feeling. “My engagement ring is special to me, too. It's funny, I hardly ever wore it when I was married. But after my husband died, I put it on and just kept it on. It was as if I wanted to remember the beginning of our relationship once it had come to an end.” Sadly, she added, “I finally took it off when I took off my wedding ring.”

“Why did you take either of your rings off?” Annabelle asked. “Some women simply keep wearing them.”

“I know they do,” Mallory replied. “But for me, I guess it was a way of finally acknowledging that I wasn't actually married anymore. I had to find a way of letting go.”

The two women remained silent for a long time.

“Well, I'd better get in the shower before the health department comes after me,” Mallory joked to lighten the mood. “Again, happy birthday, Annabelle. I hope next year's is better.”

As she rode the elevator to her floor, Mallory pondered the strange interaction with Annabelle.

Why on earth would she bring a ring like that on a press trip? Mallory thought. It doesn't make sense. Even if she was taking good care of it, there was a risk of losing it or having one of the hotel employees walk off with it. It's not as if she ever gets dressed up. Even on Sunday night, when she showed up in the ballroom for the reception, I don't recall her wearing it….

Suddenly a lightbulb went on in her head.

Of course! The reason Annabelle brought an engagement ring on this trip is that she expected to get engaged!

Annabelle had known she'd be seeing Phil on this trip. Maybe she'd decided that it was time to change their haphazard relationship. After all, she was about to turn forty, an occasion that was enough to make any woman stop and take stock of her life. Perhaps she had hoped Phil would propose.

But why now? Mallory wondered. If they've been continuing on in the same way for years, why would Phil suddenly want to get married?

The fact that she couldn't come up with a single reason led her to another conclusion: Annabelle had planned to propose to Phil.

Or maybe she already had, Mallory thought. Maybe she popped the question on Sunday night, showing up for a rendezvous with that engagement ring in her purse.

If she had proposed marriage and if Phil had said yes, chances are she would have told everyone. What newly engaged woman wouldn't be so excited that she'd babble about it to anyone who'd listen?

But what if she had proposed marriage early on Sunday evening and Phil had said no? What if she'd taken it a step further, giving him an ultimatum? What if she'd said “We wed or I walk” and he'd chosen option B? Wouldn't she have reacted strongly, perhaps even by flying into a rage?

A rage fueled by so much anger and disappointment and frustration that she killed him?

14

“All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost.”

—J.R.R. Tolkien

A
s Mallory slipped her card key into the door of her own hotel room, she was still pondering the possibility that Annabelle had killed Phil in a fit of fury. A love affair that went awry had certainly been the motivation for more than one murder. The fact that Annabelle had gone so far as to bring an engagement ring with her on this trip struck Mallory as a pretty fair indication that the woman was determined to take their relationship to the next level. Yet it wasn't difficult to imagine that Phil had seen their love affair in an entirely different way.

She tossed her purse on the bed and was contemplating taking her second shower of the day when she noticed the red light on her phone was blinking.

She froze, staring at the phone as if it was a ticking bomb.

No,
she thought. What now?

Her heart was pounding so hard as she punched the Listen To Messages button that she felt sick. She braced herself for the sound of Detective Martinez's voice. So when the male voice that had left the recorded message turned out not to be his, it took a few seconds for the meaning of the words to register.

“Hey, Mallory, it's Wade. It's almost five, and I just got back from a trying day of research. Got a massage, sat in a sauna, drank some complimentary champagne…tough life, huh? Anyway, I know it's a long shot, but I was wondering if you might be interested in getting together for dinner again tonight. Give me a call. I'm in Room 718. Later!”

She was so relieved that she wasn't being hounded by Martinez again that after she hung up, she forgot all about Wade's invitation. It wasn't until she was towel-drying her hair and her eyes wandered over to the phone that she remembered.

She was agonizing over whether or not to return his call when the phone rang again.

This time, she wasn't sure who she hoped was calling.

“Hello?” she answered uncertainly.

“Glad I caught you,” Wade said casually. “I don't know if you got my earlier message, but I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tonight. I found a place that may be kitsch enough for you to write about but still sounds as if it has decent food. It's called Bahama Breeze, and it's just down the block. If we can get past the steel drums and all the coconut that's undoubtedly sprinkled on everything on the menu, I think we might actually enjoy it.”

She tried to think up an excuse. Then reminded herself there was no reason to.

“I'd love to,” she replied.

Two nights in a row, she thought after they made plans to meet in the lobby a half hour later. She rationalized her decision by telling herself that checking out another theme restaurant was simply part of her research. As for having dinner with a man who bore the distinction of not being on her list of suspects, the prospect was positively refreshing.

Just as its name promised, Bahama Breeze embraced a Caribbean theme. The restaurant reminded Mallory of the estate house on a sugar plantation. The wooden building had a wraparound porch made of natural wood that segued into a deck. The outdoor seating area was illuminated by strings of white lights. Inside, banquettes upholstered in bright tropical colors lined the walls, and an energetic band played the requisite reggae tunes.

“Let's sit outside,” she suggested eagerly. She found the idea of dining alfresco irresistible, given the fact that back home, January was undoubtedly inflicting its usual wrath.

“This place is confusing me,” Wade commented once they'd been seated far enough away from the band that they could hear each other speak. “I thought I was in Florida. But all of a sudden, I feel like I'm in Aruba.”

“Then they've done their job,” Mallory replied. “Actually, this is the perfect sequel to last night's dinner. That one demonstrated the ‘before,' when pirates ruled the Caribbean islands. This one shows the ‘after,' how it is today.”

“Right. Now that the Royal Caribbean cruise line rules them.”

Mallory laughed. She realized she did that a lot when Wade was around. And that it was something she hadn't been doing enough before coming to Florida.

In fact, she was amazed at how much was changing. This trip was forcing her to do so many different things. Renting a car and finding her way in a new and unfamiliar place, making decisions about where to go and when to get there, recording her impressions so she'd be able to write an article that other people would look to for guidance…She felt as if she was doing new kinds of exercise that utilized muscles she hadn't even realized she had. But afterward, instead of feeling sore, she felt stronger and more energized.

Of course, she couldn't say the same for some of the other new things she was experiencing, like being interrogated by a homicide detective and taking late-night trips to the police station. But at the moment, thanks to the pulsating music and the festive lights and the congenial company, she felt as if she'd even find a way of solving that crisis.

“So what looks good?” Wade asked, skimming the menu. “Aside from the woman sitting opposite me, that is.”

Alarm bells immediately began clanging in Mallory's head. He's flirting! she thought, the feeling of serenity she'd experienced only moments before slipping away. And now I'm supposed to come back with some equally flirtatious reply….

“The signature drink sounds good,” she mumbled, burying her face in the menu. “The Bahamarita.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wade's expression change. Whether it became one of disappointment or amusement, she couldn't say.

“Kiwi, mango, strawberry…seems a little sweet for my tastes,” he replied, letting her off the hook. “I think I'll try the Mojito Cubano. Rum with spearmint and lime sounds more to my liking.”

After they'd ordered their drinks, he asked, “So how's your research going?”

“Surprisingly well,” Mallory replied. “I must admit, I'm really getting a kick out of all the ‘old Florida' attractions I've been visiting. I expected them to be cheesy, but they're turning out to be much more polished than I expected. And at least as much fun as the theme parks.”

“Don't tell me. You actually enjoyed yesterday's trip to the alligator farm?”

She laughed. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I was really impressed by Gatorland. It's more a preserve than one of those tacky old tourist traps from the old days. They seem to take really good care of the animals. The
Titanic
exhibit was also a lot more tasteful than I expected—at least, aside from the giant iceberg that's on display.”

“Talk about weapons of mass destruction,” Wade commented.

“Exactly. I also visited the Ripley's Believe It or Not! Orlando Odditorium. That was fun, once you got past the creepy stuff, although much of it reminded me of a carnival. Funny mirrors, optical illusions, that kind of thing. Still, by the time I reached the end, I felt I'd gotten my money's worth.”

“And don't forget the pirates,” Wade teased. “No vacation is complete without a few pirates.”

“That's what they say. And you're right: I enjoyed that, too.”

“I'd like to think I had at least a little to do with it.”

There he was, flirting again.

“What do you have on the schedule for tomorrow?” he asked.

“Would you believe a place called Dinosaur World? My plan is to go there late in the morning, since I have an errand to run first.”

“Dinosaurs, huh? Sounds like you might need some protection. Would it be okay if I invited myself along?”

Mallory blinked. Dinner, even two nights in a row, was one thing. After all, she and Wade were both spending a few days in a place where they didn't know anyone besides the other writers on the trip. Everyone got hungry, and most people preferred to have someone to talk to in a restaurant. But offering to come along on a sightseeing expedition that was likely to consist of nothing more interesting than wandering around a park, looking at a bunch of fake dinosaurs…that was something else entirely.

In fact, it could only mean one thing: that this man was pursuing her. She didn't know whether to feel pleased or terrified.

“Sure, why not?” Mallory replied, trying to sound blasé. “I'd enjoy the company.”

She was glad their waiter appeared just then, depositing tall frosty drinks in front of them. She took a sip, hoping hers was heavier on the mango and kiwi than it was on the alcohol.

“What about your research?” she asked.

“Actually, I'm having a better time than I thought I would,” Wade said. “I mainly came down here because I wanted to get away for a few days. I didn't really think about where I was going—just where I
wasn't
going to be, which was Toronto in January. But I've come to realize that travel writers have a really good thing going. Spa treatments, fabulous meals, luxury hotels—and it's all comped. Not a bad way to make a living.”

“This trip has been an eye-opening experience for me, too,” Mallory agreed. “And most of it's been great—aside from Phil's murder, that is.”

She decided not to admit that while finding Phil's dead body floating in a pool of water had been traumatic, it paled beside being considered a murder suspect by the homicide detective investigating the case. As far as she knew, Wade had no inkling of that.

In fact, she didn't think any of the other writers on the trip had any idea of what had gone on in her second interview with Detective Martinez the night of Phil's murder. Similarly, they knew nothing about the clippings about her and her husband that had turned up in his hotel room. The last thing she wanted was for that knowledge to spread—especially since she was trying to get whatever information she could out of them.

“Have you heard any more about the murder?” Wade asked, supporting her belief that he was still in the dark about her role in all this. “Since Sunday night, I mean?”

“No,” Mallory lied. “But of course everyone's been talking about it. It turns out that both Annabelle and Frieda knew him fairly well. From going on other travel junkets with him, I mean.”

“Do they have any theories about who might have killed him?”

Mallory hesitated, wondering if she should confide in him, after all. But she quickly decided she had nothing to gain.

“The one thing everyone seems to agree on is that Phil wasn't exactly a popular guy,” she finally said.

Wade nodded. “His work ethic certainly didn't make him popular with me.”

Mallory's ears immediately pricked up. “What do you mean? You make it sound as if you worked with him.”

“Actually, he worked
for
me.”

She just stared. This was the first she'd heard about Wade having any sort of past relationship with the murder victim.

“When was that?” she asked casually.

“A few years ago. Four, maybe five. I was managing editor at a magazine called
On the Road.
And I got royally screwed by Phil, if you'll excuse the expression.”

“What happened?”

“I hired him to do a freelance assignment. It was a long one, a comprehensive piece on Route 66. You know, the highway that runs from Chicago to L.A. It's not marked on maps anymore, yet it still has a mystique about it. That's probably due at least in part to the old television show from the 1960s.

“Anyway, I gave Phil a long lead time. I seem to recall it was something like three months. Once the deadline started getting close, I tried to get in touch with him to make sure he was going to get it in on time. For weeks he didn't return my phone calls or respond to my e-mails. Then, once I finally did manage to get him on the phone, he swore up and down that he'd make his deadline.” He shrugged. “At that point, I had no reason to doubt that he'd follow through.”

“I take it that didn't happen?”

“Nope. The deadline rolled around and I still hadn't received a single word from him. I tried calling him, I tried e-mailing him, but he seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“So what did you do?”

“I stayed up all night, throwing together some piece of garbage that would fill the magazine's empty pages.” Smiling coldly, he added, “Needless to say, after that, Phil Diamond never got another assignment from me.”

“Who could blame you?” Mallory said.

But she was thinking something else entirely.

For the first time since Sunday night, Mallory found herself considering the appalling possibility that Wade had murdered Phil. Could past interactions between the two men have been Wade's motivation? It certainly seemed unlikely. Still, she wasn't prepared to rule out any possibility. Not when the list of suspects was so limited.

Aside from her shock over learning that Wade was one more person who had had a bad experience with Phil, her head was spinning for an entirely different reason. Here she'd let down her guard with Wade and had really started to like him. To trust him, too. Yet she suddenly realized she didn't know him at all—and that she couldn't rule out the possibility that there was a lot more to his past with Phil Diamond than he'd admitted to.