Suspicion of Madness (32 page)

There were hors d'oeuvres and bottles of wine. Martin poured the new arrivals a glass of champagne. He was drinking club soda, Gail noticed. Teri said they would have dinner as soon as this little problem of how to get everyone to Islamorada had been solved. The staff were leaving after a long day of preparing the hotel for the storm. Teri had left a message for Arnel, but either his battery was dead, or the weather had caused an interference. It could do that, as the island had poor reception from the nearest tower.

Teri picked up her wine from the low table. "Cheers. To good times and good friends."

"And to beautiful women," Martin said. "Anthony, my friend, if we don't have the most beautiful women on the planet, I don't know who does."

Teri blew him a kiss. They all raised their glasses.

Tom consulted his watch again. "Teri, why don't I just drive over to Joan's? Lend me a cart."

"No, Tom, it's too dark. Wait a little. Arnel is sure to call back."

A young woman with short, dark hair appeared from the direction of the kitchen carrying an umbrella, purse, and sweater. Gail remembered her name: Emma. She announced that she had put everything on warming trays in the dining room. "Are you sure it's okay if we leave? I'd stay to help clean up, if you want. Really."

Teri said, "Thank you, Emma, but as soon as Arnel arrives, we'll get you and the others to the marina."

"Good night, then," said Emma. She went to join the small group waiting by the door.

Tom looked at his watch again, and Teri called out, "Billy, come over here, please." He came across the lobby. She took his hand. "Would you go pick up Joan Sinclair? Tom will ride with you. And then I want you to find Arnel. If he isn't at Joan's, he's at his cottage."

Billy said, "I just told everybody I'd take them to the marina."

"I don't want you to go out. Find Arnel for me."

"They've been waiting for half an hour already. They want to leave
now."

Tom said, "Come on, Teri, I can drive myself to Joan's house. I haven't forgotten the way. I'd better go now because the rain has slacked off some."

From the big leather chair by the fire, Martin said, "Let Billy make the run to Islamorada. We don't need Arnel."

"Billy shouldn't be out in this weather."

"Honey, he is perfectly capable of going to the marina and back. He's been boating in these waters all his life, and in worse conditions than this."

Billy looked around at Martin, evidently surprised that his stepfather would speak up for him. "I know what I'm doing, Mom."

Outnumbered, Teri made a bright smile. "Okay, then. Go get the keys to the shuttle, and show Tom which cart to use. And please be careful. Take your cell phone."

With a roll of his eyes, Billy headed toward the office.

"Teri, don't worry about him," Martin said.

"I'm not. I'm not worried. Everything is just wonderful." Teri closed her hand over her gold locket and held it close to her heart, a gesture as seemingly automatic as counting the beads of a rosary. One son was dead, the other in mortal danger. Teri knew what Billy had experienced this morning on Joan Sinclair's dock, the auditory and visual hallucinations, the mermaid that could have represented either Sandra McCoy or his drowned brother, Jeremy. But everything was just wonderful.

Teri got up to refill her glass. Her hand trembled, and bubbles of champagne spilled down the side. Laughing, she wiped them away with a cocktail napkin, then sat down and crossed her lovely legs.

She appeared to listen intently to her husband explain to Anthony how safe the hotel would be in a storm. He had used poured concrete on deep foundations and shatterproof glass to withstand debris flying at one hundred miles per hour. The roofs were impervious to water.

"Excuse me a minute," Gail murmured.

She crossed the lobby.

"Emma, could I speak to you about something?" They went outside to the front porch. Past the landscaping lights and the little lamps that marked the walking paths, the sea and sky were so dark they gave the impression of one continuous black void.

"Yesterday morning at breakfast you offered to help if there was anything you could do for Billy. Did you mean it?"

"Of course I did," Emma said.

"Maybe you can do this, maybe not. The police say they have a witness who saw Billy and Sandra arguing in the parking lot at Holiday Isle two days before she was murdered. I would like very much to talk to this person. Her first name is Penny, but that's all we know. Your sister-in-law works for the sheriff's office. Is there any way you could find out for me? Don't feel obligated, if you'd rather not."

Without hesitation Emma said, "How can I get in touch with you?"

"Call the cottage— No, better call my cell phone." Gail wrote down the number for her. "As soon as you can," she said. "We're leaving tomorrow."

"No problem." Emma tucked the slip of paper into her pocket.

The front door opened, and five people came out, led by Billy Fadden. The last in line was Tom Holtz, who had put on a shiny yellow rain slicker with a hood. He looked like an enormous grapefruit. "Ms. Connor, we'll be seeing you in a little while."

"I hope Joan hasn't changed her mind," Gail said.

"Not as of half an hour ago." He flipped up the hood of his jacket. "Save us some of that champagne."

When Gail returned to the lobby, Martin Greenwald was telling Anthony they should leave in the morning or risk being trapped until the storm passed. The forecast was dismal: There would be thunderstorms with heavy rains by late afternoon and possible wind gusts to sixty miles per hour.

"Sixty!" Gail exclaimed. "That's only fifteen short of a hurricane."

"You don't want to drive in weather like that," Martin said. "In the morning I can take you to the marina, but as the day goes on, it could be dangerous to get into a boat. If you and Gail aren't off the island by noon, you may be stuck here for the weekend. You're more than welcome to stay with us, no question there."

Sitting beside Anthony, Gail could clearly sense his indecision. They had hoped to have the entire day to follow up some leads. She said quietly, "You can stay. I'll come back for you on Sunday."

"We'll talk about it."

"Shall we go in to dinner?" Teri said brightly. "Now that everything's been taken care of, we can enjoy ourselves." She tugged on her husband's elbow. "You escort Gail to the dining room, and Anthony can take me. That's how they do it on formal occasions, no? Tonight is special. Come on, everyone."

"Gail, it would be my honor." Martin pushed himself from the depths of his chair and held out his arm.

The shutters in the dining room had been pulled down to protect the windows, but one area remained open. Glass panels looked out on the terrace and its ferny, coral-rock fountain. The room did not seem as empty as it otherwise might have, because the lights in the far corners were off, leaving the garden view illuminated. Soft jazz played on hidden speakers.

There were two tables. They sparkled with crystal and silver. Orchids bloomed from bud vases, and candles flickered. The smaller table was waiting for Joan Sinclair and Tom Holtz.

Teri directed them to the buffet, where the staff had left covered serving dishes with lobster consommé, prime rib, braised vegetables, freshly baked rolls. Teri apologized to Gail and Anthony that they had to serve themselves. Anthony said it was better this way; he could have seconds or thirds without waiting for someone to bring it. Everyone's mood was upbeat, or seemed so, as if in conscious defiance of the weather. Not only the weather. The question of Billy's fate was an even darker cloud.

As Gail knew that it must, the topic of conversation came around to that. Anthony said to expect a search warrant, probably next week. As nothing could be done to prevent it, Martin and Teri should cooperate but call him immediately. Anthony would discuss it with Billy later tonight.

"I'm sure it's going to be all right," Teri said. Her smile hadn't wavered.

Anthony talked about Douglas Lindeman's probable involvement with Sandra McCoy, and Sandra's plans to buy an apartment on Miami Beach. "We don't know where she would get the money," he said, "but it's likely that this scheme, if there was one, has to do with Joan Sinclair. Perhaps Sandra found some valuables in her house. The guardianship could be a means of removing Joan from the property. We don't know. However, we are encouraged about one thing. Tomorrow Tom Holtz will call Detective Baylor about the message from Sandra. This will help deflect suspicion from Billy."

"So Doug Lindeman is a suspect," Martin said. "Why am I not surprised?"

"When Tom returns, it's better not to bring it up," Anthony cautioned.

"I am so relieved," Teri said. "They can't arrest Billy if there's another suspect."

"We'll see how the police react to what Tom tells them," Anthony replied carefully. "Doug Lindeman has an alibi. He was at his office with Lois, but— I'm sorry, Martin, but it's possible that Lois could have lied for him. She believes that he's in love with her."

Martin nodded soberly, understanding why she might have done so.

Teri leaned toward Gail, who sat opposite. "Lois told you that she and Doug Lindeman are going to be married? I can't believe it. Did she actually say that?"

"Teri." By speaking her name gently and firmly, Martin Greenwald told his wife that she should not bring up family matters likely to embarrass his sister. It was bad enough that Lois could have lied to the police.

Having been chastised, Teri gaily asked if anyone wanted more champagne.

Gail had to speak. "Martin, you should know about Doug Lindeman. He isn't in love with Lois. Not only was he sleeping with Sandra, he has a woman in Key Largo and another in Miami, and he goes after whatever female tourists he can get his hands on. We found out from Tom Holtz. Someone should tell Lois before she gets in any deeper."

Martin glowered at the remains of his prime rib. He had done no more than shove the pieces around on his plate. "Teri, bring me another of those delectable potatoes, will you, sweetheart?"

It was obvious she was being sent away, but she went around for his plate, steadying herself on the back of his chair. "Only one. I have to be strict with you." She kissed the top of his head.

Martin watched her go. "I'd prefer not to discuss my sister's romantic attachments at dinner, but you're right, she should be told. I haven't been entirely satisfied with Holtz and Lindeman, but I left the choice of legal counsel up to Lois. I may have been wrong, and that's all we need to say on the subject."

Gail stole a glance at Anthony, who gave her a little nod, reassurance that she had not been entirely out of line, bringing it up. Gail announced she had to have another sliver of prime rib.

What she wanted was to get Teri alone just long enough to tell her that she must stop pretending that nothing was wrong.
Talk to Martin. Tell him you need him. Tell him that Lois is trying to destroy you. If you don't, you'll lose him.

But Gail lost her courage. "Dinner is lovely, Teri."

Teri smiled at her and was on her way back to the table, wobbling slightly, setting her husband's plate in front of him.

Standing there silently, wondering what to do, aware that she had no right to interfere, Gail thought she heard a noise. It came from the hall. What had it been? A footfall, a shifting of clothing? Still holding her dinner plate she tiptoed to the door. The fire sent its flickering light into the lobby. Gail couldn't see around the corner to the area where they had been sitting, but she noticed through the terrace doors that the wind had picked up. The branches of a tree scraped across the glass. Satisfied that this was the source of the noise, Gail went back inside the dining room.

Sitting down, Gail said, "I wonder where Joan and Tom are?"

"Yes, where are they?" Teri stole a glance at her little Rolex, whose cheery yellow face matched the color of her dress. "Should we be concerned?"

"Not a bit," Martin said. "They're probably having a few drinks. Tom has his phone. If he were lost, he'd call us."

Teri pointed to the ice bucket. "Anthony, would you open that other bottle? I feel like having a party. Why aren't you drinking, Martin?"

"All right," he said. "Half a glass. One of us should be able to get up the stairs tonight."

"You." Teri laughed. "You can carry me. I am such a lucky woman to have a man so... so macho." She pinched his cheek, and Martin winked at her.

"My God, you're a sexy wench."

She smiled and tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

Anthony stood to twist out the cork and refill the glasses. He put barely any in Martin's glass. He said he had something he wanted to ask before Joan arrived. "It's about her other nephew, Teddy Lindeman. When we saw Tom this afternoon, and he took us to the Morgan house, he said that Teddy used to own it. The house was seized by the government, sold at auction, and resold once or twice more before the Morgans bought it. Did you know about this, Martin?"

"Vaguely. I didn't think it was important. Is it?"

"I am not sure."

"Teddy died last June," Teri said. "In prison." She hiccuped. "I never met him."