Suspicion of Guilt (49 page)

"I hate you!" Karen screamed.

From the wheel came a shout. Howard Odell said, "What's going on?"

Gail said, "Karen wants to lie down. She's not feeling well."

"Eric, take them below."

"I get claustrophobic. She can lie on the sofa."

Odell said, "Karen! Go below if you want to, but don't touch anything."

"I'm coming too," Gail said.

"Stay here," Eric said. "I don't want to go in yet." His arms were stretched along the gunwales.

If she shoved him, hard, Gail thought, he would fall backward and vanish. Or get sucked into the propellers. "Go on, sweetie. I'll be right here." When Karen had gone, Gail turned fiercely to Eric. "Bastard. You fucking bastard."

"Gail. Shut up." She started to leave, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her down on the seat. His thigh pressed against hers. The water was rushing past the hull, a white froth in the darkness.

He glanced toward the bridge, then said, "You asked me who killed Althea Tillett. It was Rudy. He and Monica planned it. They killed her, then they forged her will. Monica told Howard all about it." Eric smiled, came close, the wind ruffling his hair. "Howard was having an affair with her."

"Howard and Monica?"

"Wild, huh?" Eric glanced upward again. "Don't mention it to him. He doesn't know I told you about it. I want you and Karen to get to Bimini okay."

"Why did you let me make an idiot of myself at Althea Tillett's house this morning, if you already knew who did it?"

"Because you'd have wondered how I knew Rudy did it. What would I have told you?" He shook his head. "Howard and I were making plans to leave. I couldn't jeopardize that."

Gail knew she should go inside. Leave it alone. But she looked up at Howard Odell, then at Eric. "What about Larry Black?"

"Larry? Rudy didn't do it, according to Howard. Larry was going to sue Frankie Delgado—stupid move—and one of Frankie's thugs tried to kill him. It had nothing to do with the forgery." Eric propped his ankle on his knee, bounced his foot. "Planting the cocaine and condoms was their way of making a joke, I guess."

"I don't see the humor," Gail said.

"Sure. It is kind of funny," Eric said, "and I can only say this because Larry's going to pull through, thank God. How's he going to explain it to his wife? He's such an uptight little nerd." Eric patted her knee. "You get back to Miami, talk to Detective Davis. I'd like to see him nail Frankie for this."

Gail watched the opposite side of the boat rising, falling. The lights of the city were dimmer now, and she could feel the engine vibrations under her feet, and the swells of deeper water. Even in the cool wind, her neck was wet with perspiration.

"Let me go check on Karen," she said, steadying herself on the gunwale, standing up.

"I'll go with you. I need another beer anyway." He looked up. "Hey! Howard! I'm going to grab a beer? You want one?"

"Coffee! It's cold up here."

Eric stepped toward the salon door. The light from inside shone on his face. Then his eyes widened. He dived. A blaze of sparks flew past him, then slammed into the back of the boat, bouncing and fizzing and boiling in a cloud of orange smoke.

"You little bitch!" Eric jumped to his feet and vanished into the salon.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Gail scrambled for the door, nearly colliding with Howard Odell, who had leaped off the ladder from the bridge with a fire extinguisher.

Eric was vaulting down the companionway stairs. "Come here, you brat!"

"Stop it!" Gail screamed. "She was playing! She didn't mean to."

Eric hauled Karen back along the corridor by her sweatshirt. "Playing, my ass!" Eric pushed Gail off him. Karen was a flailing, screeching windmill of arms and legs. "She fucking tried to kill me!" He pulled back his fist.

Gail grabbed Eric's arm. "Don't! Don't hurt her!"

"What in God's holy hell is going on in here?" Howard Odell shouted from the top of the stairs. "Stop it! Now!" He still held the fire extinguisher.

Karen slid under the table, sobbing. Gail crawled over to her. "Oh, baby. Mommy's here. Are you all right?"

"Is
she
all right?" Eric straightened his jacket. "Fucking bitch tried to shoot me with the flare gun." He whirled around, finding it on the galley floor. "You little shit, I hope you can swim, I ought to throw you overboard and let the sharks eat you." He slid open a window and tossed out the flare gun.

"Hey!" Howard Odell jerked his thumb toward the bridge. "Get up there and take the wheel.
Now.
I'll handle this."

When Eric was gone, feet thudding across the salon, Howard Odell looked down at Gail and Karen, still on the floor under the table. A little gold anchor was embroidered on the front of his billed hat. Scowling, he unzipped his windbreaker. "Come sit up here where I can watch you." They slid into the bench seat, Karen next to the window.

He had a Thermos of coffee and drank it from a mug while Gail wiped Karen's face with a paper towel. There was a purpling bruise over one eyebrow. The reggae music was still playing in the salon, and the boat thundered through the choppy water. Odell went to turn off the music, then came back. He sat with his knees toward the galley, holding his mug. "I hate reggae." Karen's head was in Gail's lap now, her eyes closed.

Gail whispered, "Howard, you have to let us off in Bimini. If you don't, Sanford Ehringer will hunt you down. He'll have you killed."

He held up a hand. "Gail. Nothing's going to happen to you. We're stopping in Bimini, I promise. Look, Eric got a little excited there. We've been under some pressure with this trip."

"He beat me up!"

Odell's eyes traveled over her face. "Where?"

"How the hell do you think he got me here? He hit me in the stomach, twice, and knocked me out. He threatened to kill my daughter if I didn't do what he said!"

"Gail ... I'm sorry. He wasn't supposed to bring Karen, just you. Don't worry about it. You'll be okay." He turned back to the galley. "Won't help to bitch about it now."

"You swear we're going to Bimini."

"Yes, but don't expect me to fill you in on my itinerary." He took another swallow of coffee. "Keep quiet, all right?"

"One question. Please?"

He let out his breath and glanced over his shoulder. "What?"

"Did Althea Tillett know about Frankie Delgado and his crowd moving in on Seagate and Atlantic? Please. I want to know."

"Who?"

"Dammit, Howard. You know who Frankie Delgado is. Tell me."

"Althea knew. So what?"

"And she found out from Carla Napolitano?"

"You said one question."

Gail reached across the table. "Howard, please. If I have to get beat up, and my daughter nearly got killed two minutes ago, the least you can do is tell me the truth!"

"Christ! Okay, yes. Althea found out from Carla—who later tried to blackmail me, by the way, before she jumped off her balcony. I told you she was a damn loser. Anyhow, Althea went on the warpath. By then things were getting out of control. I tried to stop it. Ain't easy. Like turning a cruise liner around. We were making good money."

"And the shareholders in the parent company didn't care, as long as they were getting their dividends."

"Right. Some cared, most didn't." He added, "Well, the truth is, most of them didn't know exactly what was going on."

"Did Larry Black know?"

"Larry said shut it down, to hell with the money."

"He found out from Althea, didn't he? And that's what you talked to him about over lunch, the day I met you."

"The whole thing was coming down," Odell said. "Once you let that element in, it goes to hell."

"So you cleaned out the accounts and packed your bags." When Howard glared at her, Gail quickly said, "Eric told me. He said it wouldn't matter if I knew. That people would find out anyway."

"Yeah, I guess it doesn't matter." He made a laugh. "Frankie Delgado ain't gonna be happy. Let him come get me."

"Howard—"

He gave her a pained look. "Don't talk. You'll wake the girl. She's already caused too much trouble." He mumbled into his coffee, "Stupid move, bringing a kid along."

Gail gripped his forearm. "Who ... killed Althea Tillett?"

"What are you asking me that for?" Odell demanded. "Pretending like you don't know. Eric's kept me up to date on you, sweetheart, so cut the B.S."

"What did he tell you? Please, Howard."

"Rudy Tillett."

Her voice came out on a croak. She cleared her throat. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"No."

"Did you—were you ... dating Monica Tillett?"

"Who? Monica?" He smiled, swirling his mug. "I'm not Monica's type." He drank.

The cabin seemed suddenly stifling, and a massive wave of panic swept over her. She said, "Howard—" He exhaled. "Eric told me Rudy Tillett murdered Althea. And that Monica told you this."

Odell didn't answer for a minute. "Don't play your little games with me, Gail."

"No, Howard—"

"You pulled my chain pretty good in that meeting on Monday at your law firm. Not here, baby."

"Listen to me! Eric told me he was in court in Fort Lauderdale last Monday morning, filing exhibits for testimony in a trial that day. I should have caught it! That's totally incorrect procedure! You don't file exhibits the day of trial."

"Yeah, yeah." Odell stood up, finishing his coffee.

"Don't you
see
?
On Monday morning someone beat Larry senseless and left him for dead! Eric lied about where he was!" She reached for his arm, whispering urgently. "Larry was found with cocaine and condoms in his pockets. Only the police and his wife knew about it. She told me. I mentioned cocaine to Eric, but not condoms. Not that. I'm sure of it. How does he know?
How?"

"I can't listen to this." Odell jerked his arm away.

"You have to!"

Karen stirred and moaned, and Gail glanced down.

Odell put his mug in the sink. "I'm going to trade off with Eric. He'll probably steer us to Haiti by mistake."

Gail caught her breath. The pitch of the engines had dropped, and the boat slowed, the weight shifting forward. Eric had taken it out of gear.

"Don't go up!" She grabbed the sleeve of Odell's windbreaker and held on. "He won't let us go, Howard. He can't. Rudy didn't kill Althea, Eric did."

"You're crazy. He had no reason."

"Oh my God, why didn't I see this? The forgery had nothing to do with Althea's death! Rudy and Monica Tillett took advantage of her accident, but it wasn't an accident. Eric broke her neck. He couldn't risk losing what he had with you."

"That's enough." Odell pointed at her.

"You were cleaning out the accounts. Eric was helping, wasn't he? He knew where to find the offshore contacts, how to evade the IRS. You promised him a share. But Althea started causing trouble. And Carla. She was blackmailing you. Eric had to shut her up."

"Carla? She jumped."

"Impossible. She was moving north to be with her new grandchild, as soon as she had the money. Money from where? Blackmail?"

Now Odell was staring at Gail, breathing hard.

"Eric and Carla—did they ever meet? Tell me! Would she have let him into her apartment?"

Odell passed his hand over his face. "He took her the money a couple of times."

"Oh, God."

"He couldn't... come on, this is crazy talk." Odell cleared his throat. "I know the kid."

"How much were you going to give him, Howard? He told me you've got two million on board. If he gets the rest wherever you're going, fine. But he doesn't need it. He doesn't need you!"

There was a thud, as from someone heavy jumping off the ladder to the bridge.

She clutched his forearm, whispering, "Do you have a gun on board?"

His upper lip gleamed with sweat. "No."

She heard the salon door open.

"I've got ... a bang stick."

Gail knew what it was. A rod with a hollow chamber at the front. Drop in a 12-gauge shell. It worked on contact. Good for sharks. One tap and the shell would blow like a shotgun.

"Where is it? Howard!"

"Oh, Jesus." His face going gray, he nodded toward the bow. "Closet by the head, with the other fishing equipment."

Eric swung into the galley, brushing his fingers through his tousled hair. His cheeks were pink from the cool wind. Gail and Howard Odell looked at him silently, and Eric stared back at them. His head nearly touched the cabin ceiling.

"Chilly outside." He smiled. "Howard, how about some coffee?" He shook the Thermos. "Guess I'd better make us some more."

Groggily Karen sat up, frowning. She noticed Eric and stiffened. Gail put her arms around her.

Eric looked from Odell to Gail, back again. "What's going on?"

Odell said, "Go on up. I'll make your coffee."

"No. You go up. I think Gail and I need to talk."

"Okay." Odell didn't move. "Eric, you know what might be a good idea? We're almost to Bimini. I don't want to take any chances losing these two. They might do something stupid. Jump overboard. What do you think?"

Eric didn't answer, only stood looming over the table.

Gail backed up, pressing Karen behind her. "Howard! Don't!"

"Shut up!" Odell slammed his hand on the table, then said, "I've got some duct tape. I want them tied, hands and feet. We're going to avoid another flare gun incident." He passed beside Eric. "I'll be back. Keep an eye on them."

Eric was watching Odell. Gail breathed into Karen's ear, "Run on deck. Now." She shoved her, and Karen scrambled over the table.

Eric whirled around, grabbed, missed. He started up the stairs, then stopped. "You bitch." He came for Gail, reaching into the corner of the bench seat, taking the front of her sweater in his fist.

"Let her go!" Odell shouted. He held a metal rod, pointing it at Eric's chest. His face was slick with sweat. An eighteen-inch wooden fish bat was stuck into the front pocket of his khaki trousers.

"What the fuck? Howard—" Still holding Gail's sweater, Eric stared at him. "What are you doing, man? What's she been telling you? This woman is tricky. You ought to see her in a jury trial—"