Murder's Last Resort (9 page)

Chapter 28

As we left the wonderful world of Disney, Lily drove north on Apopka-Vineland Road and I asked to use the little notebook I knew she kept in her purse.

“Sure, Maya,” she said, lifting her purse from the floor of the seat behind me and plopping it in my lap. “Just dig around till you find it and a pen.”

I began to dig as instructed and, before I found the pen and notebook, I noticed something shiny in her bag.
Odd. Isn’t this identical to that weird shiny thing we saw in Vacaar Luzi’s bathroom drawer? Or maybe it is that weird shiny thing. Why would Lily have one of those or why would she have taken it from that drawer?

My digging must have slowed to mere scratching because Lily looked over at me and asked, “What’s the matter, Duckie? Not having any luck? I know they’re in there somewhere.”

“Oh, I’m still looking,” I said and wondered—if this shiny gadget were Lily’s, why had she acted as though she had never seen one before? Was Lily not to be trusted? A slight queasiness struck me and my mouth felt dry. I swallowed and said nothing.

“Found them!” I declared triumphantly, extracting the pen and paper from her purse. My suspicion made me prickly and my midriff began to itch. What next? I was already having my doubts about French and now this. My world was shattering like a broken mirror, and me without my Crazy Glue.

“I want to jot some notes,” I told her, opening the pad and uncapping the pen. “Let’s see. First, find French and strangle him...”

“At least you still have your sense of humor, sweetness,” Lily smiled and kept her eyes on the road.

“You know what,” I said, “I’ve given up on French. He’s going to turn up when he decides to turn up. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s disappeared only to reappear later with a perfectly reasonable story.”

“But never under these circumstances,” Lily said.

“No. Never under these circumstances,” I agreed.

“Back to my list,” I said, determined to get my mind off French. “One, I need to figure out why Lauren White was still at the hotel so late that very first night. Two, I should probably interview some of the guys who were at the dinner dance, like Frankie Messina. Three, I need to examine the files in French’s office. Four, I need to look through our Visa bills to see if French really did purchase any pantyhose lately. Finally, I should talk to Mel, the Weinstein in charge of Sapphire Resorts, to see if he can shed any extra light on the personal lives of Redmund Torrey and Vacaar Luzi.”

“Do you think Rick will let you do any of that stuff without tailing you?” Lily asked me.

“No, probably not,” I admitted. “But I’ve got to try. If I have to break into French’s office at four in the morning, I will.” I knew there was a secret way into his office that probably even the Orlando PD had not discovered.

Lily and I decided not to return to Silver Pines just now. After all, I was sprung from lock-down mode and the snooping eyes and ears of all the good and bad people on the property, including Rick, his henchmen, at least one murderer and a kidnapper.

Chapter 29

Lily and I stopped at the Gateway Shopping Center. It was breakfast time and Tammy’s Cafe was a great local joint for a bite. Tammy made omelets like no other. They seemed lighter than air, yet bursting with flavor. How did she do it? She refused to tell anyone. Talk on the streets was that even her employees didn’t know her secret.

We sat at the counter, Lily and I, lost in our thoughts while we chowed down our veggie and cheese omelets. Tammy baked her own biscuits, also lighter than air. They were so good, they almost seemed like dessert. In front of us, Delbert, our server, his back turned, was busy rinsing out glasses in hot water. The steam rose in curls around him.
If I had a job like that, my hair would be a constant ball of frizzy twine.

“Why would someone abduct me, Lily,” I asked her, still looking at Delbert.

“I don’t know, Maya. Did you ever stop to think it might be a message to keep the hell away from the murders?” she asked.

“That thought
did
occur to me,” I admitted, “but I struck it immediately. You and I both know that’s not going to happen.”

“No, of course not,” she said, looking with either pity, disapproval or maybe even wistful protectiveness at her dear, knuckle-headed friend.

“Not to revisit an unpopular subject, but what do you suppose has happened to French?” she ventured, watching for my response with her smart, hazel eyes.

“Beats me,” I answered. “That man can be so vexing at times. He’s so independent, I sometimes wonder why he bothered to get married.” I noted her look of surprise. Seldom did I let down my guard regarding French, allowing even a sliver of my frequent frustrations with him to show.

Just then, some men entered and slid into a booth against the wall. Our backs were to them. Lily and I perked up. We both recognized the voices and were ready to eavesdrop with the best of them.

“This whole deal has thrown me for a loop,” said Rick.

“You said it,” Koenig answered. “Do you think we should call in the state troopers to help us with this?”

“Absolutely not,” Rick said. “We can handle this. It’s the biggest thing to come our way, ever. When we solve these murders, we’re not going to share the glory with any other department or bureau.”

“How long can we keep those Sapphire conference people caged up on the property?” Tom asked. “Life goes on and we have to release them back to theirs sooner or later.”

“You’re right, but everything’s too fishy. I don’t like that French has disappeared and I don’t like that nosey Maya snooping around. She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?” Rick answered.

Lily and I hunched over our plates. Now was not the time to be found out. I was trying to blend into the stainless steel countertop and the red Naugahyde of the bar stool. Chances were we were safe from discovery. If they hadn’t noticed us yet, they probably weren’t going to.

“Yeah,” Tom said. “Something’s got to be done about her.”

“Like what?” Rick asked.

“Maybe we can trump up some charges against her, set her up for a fall. We can put her in jail to get her out of our hair,” Tom said.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. They had nerve to speak about this in public. I guess they reckoned no one was listening. I guess they were wrong.

Now I had one more thing to worry about—them. Part of me had been wondering if Rick had somehow finagled my abduction to give me pause. The answer was no.

Truth was, whoever abducted me knew exactly what he was doing. The intent was to scare me away from the case. He could have easily dumped me into the nearest body of water.

In Florida, it was easy to do away with a corpse, if one just happened to have a corpse lying around. The woods that flanked the Interstate were swampy and bordered by lakes or maybe the lakes were bordered by woods and swamps. From an airplane, Central Florida looked like soggy Swiss cheese surrounded by oversized parsley.

Those woods, swamps and lakes were stocked with nature’s clean-up crew, the crew of wide snouts, strong jaws and jagged, alligator teeth. A body could be dropped off at midnight and, by morning, no evidence would remain.

My thoughts returned to Lily and how we were trapped at the counter. I motioned to Delbert, placing my finger over my mouth to signal he should be quiet. He jerked his head up silently, telling me he understood, and bent his head in near to us to hear what I was going to say.

“We’ll have dessert,” I said to him. “Why don’t you grab us a piece of cherry pie and two forks,” I said, nodding toward Lily, who was as silent as a meadow mouse. “And Delbert, don’t say our names.”

“Okay, you two,” he said and nodded. “Would you like that à la mode?”

“Of course, dear Delbert,” I said, keeping my voice low. “If we’re going to hell in a hand basket, it may as well be worth our while.”

Chapter 30

I had pictured Lily and myself sneaking out of Tammy’s, after Rick and Tom ate their meal and left. We would dart into Walgreen’s together, where I wished to make a purchase. Then, Lily would bring me back to the hotel property via Winter Garden Road and drop me off at the gravel path where our Fire Station stood. The hunky firemen would wave at me and their friendly Dalmatian, Domino, would trot by my side for a while, then turn and go back to the station where he belonged.

It would already be noon and the air would be fragrant with the scent of the pines and the sweet acacia that grew wild on the property.

Normally, I walked along, breathing that sweet air, not a care in the world. But not today. Today, once Lily dropped me, I would be alone, scared, missing French, and at the same time, hoping he might have turned up last night or this morning, while I was away. I would also be looking over my shoulder every step of the way, since I seemed to be sporting my own private stalker.

But no. As it turned out, I rode home in the back of Rick’s Grand Victoria cruiser. It smelled a little of dog.

“Well, as I live and breathe.” Rick’s voice had rung out as he paid his check. “It’s Maya French and her friend, Lily!”

We were caught. What could we do but swivel on our stools, smile with cherry-stained teeth and greet him in return?

“Would you like a ride home, Maya?” Rick asked.

“No thank you, Rick. Lily’s got it covered.”

“No, really. I insist,” he said. Then, to Lily, “You get along home now—we’ve got it from here.”

Lily didn’t argue with Rick and I didn’t, either. She was driving back to Bay Hill alone. We gave each other an air kiss and parted ways in the parking lot, where she hightailed it to her Range Rover, while I followed Rick and Tom to their car.

I slid into the back seat and sniffed the air. “I didn’t know this was a canine unit!” I exclaimed in surprise.

Rick and Koenig shot each other an irritated glance.

“It’s not,” Rick said.

“Oh, come on now. Don’t be coy, gentlemen,” I said. “I can smell Lassie in here. Where do you hide the Milkbones?” I was already in deep doo-doo for having left the property without their permission, that much was obvious, so why not get further under their skins?

Rick’s eyes, slitty and mean-looking, were visible to me in the rear view mirror.

“Very funny, Maya,” he said.

About as funny as a dead armadillo in the middle of the road.

Koenig burped loudly, didn’t even try to excuse himself. Hard to excuse a guy like him. He must have sensed it.

“Why were you off property?” Rick asked in an accusatory tone.

“It wasn’t really my choice, Rick.”

“And that means—”

“Someone abducted me and schlepped me to the back of the Sword and Chalice property,” I answered.

“At Disney? What on earth for?” I saw Rick’s jaw working silently.

“How should I know?”

He was silent for a moment while he thought it over. Koenig stared at him like a dog waiting for a command from his master. Maybe that accounted for the smell in the car.

“When were you going to tell us this?” Rick finally asked.

“I don’t know.” I looked down at my lap, feeling a tiny bit guilty. I had never intended to mention it to them at all and Rick knew it.

Koenig made a disgusted, snorting sound and burped once more. The rest of the ride was awkward.

As they dropped me at the path which led to my home, Rick yelled after me, “Keep yourself put on this property, Maya. It’s for your own good.”

“You’re right, Rick. Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it,” I said, waving goodbye.

When I got inside the house, the red light on my phone was flashing. I listened to the message. It was from French. French! French was alive! French had called me. A wave of relief and joy shot through me, very soon followed by a wave of annoyance and an urge to thwock him upside the head.

That insensitive moron. Did he have any idea how worried I had been about him? And what was worse, his message said almost nothing. He told me he was fine and not to worry. He didn’t want to stay on the line. He didn’t want the police tracing the call. I, too, suspected surveillance. It was just a feeling I had.

I played the message over and over again, listening for any sort of encrypted code or stress in French’s voice. Was someone holding a knife to his throat or a gun to his head? That could make a person terse, all right.

But no, there was no trace of panic or untoward emotion in his voice. He was checking in to calm my fears. No mention of where he was or when he would be back. So many questions and not one answer. Once again, I wanted to jump in my car, bolt from the property and drive up to see Ted Rains. As French’s closest friend in Orlando, he might be able to shed some light on this madness.

The last time I tried that, I woke up near a dumpster behind the Sword and Chalice hotel over at Disney. So, I called Ted and requested he have someone come collect me at the property.

“Maya, darlin’, I’ll be happy to do that. It will be about half an hour. I’ll have my man, Marty, ring the bell at the gate to your property. You know Marty, don’t you?” Ted’s voice was quiet, calm, soothing—and he hadn’t even asked me why I needed a driver.

True to Ted’s word, Marty arrived half an hour later. I jumped into the limo in clean, flax-colored linen slacks, the matching linen jacket folded carefully over my arm.