The Good Die Twice (19 page)

Dagger crossed his arms and rested a fist
under his chin. The jewelry on the screen looked identical and
someone went through a lot of trouble to make a duplicate. Rachel
couldn’t have died because she had a duplicate. She had to have had
the real ones. “J.C., how do you know yours are genuine?”

“Well,” J.C. cleared his throat, “I guess I
just know. It has been in a locked display case under constant
video surveillance. You don’t just leave a
four-hundred-million-dollar collection unprotected.”

“Four hundred million?” Skizzy gasped, his
eyes jerking to the monitor and back to the earring on the
cloth.

“I’m investigating a murder, J.C. And I think
the earrings had something to do with it.”

There was the longest silence while J.C.
digested what Dagger had said. Skizzy straightened up from where he
hovered over the camera. Sara remained mesmerized by the images on
the screen.

“Let me check something out,” J.C. said.
“I’ll be right back.”

Dagger paced the length of the room. The
ceiling was low and another few inches and his head would be
scraping the support beams. Metal shelving lined the walls and
Dagger couldn’t help but notice some of the bottled water was dated
six years ago.

“Gentlemen,” J.C. said as he returned to the
microphone, “do you have the other earring by chance? And what
about the necklace?”

“No and no.” Dagger jammed his hands into his
pants pockets and glanced at Skizzy. What had J.C. been doing all
that time? Checking out the authenticity of his set? If so, J.C.
was remaining non-committal.

“J.C., when was the last time the
Williamsburg Collection was out of its display case?”

J.C. explained how the jewelry was used
during a photo shoot five years before. The collection was returned
to the museum immediately. “Matter of fact,” J.C. added, “I believe
I have a picture from the photo shoot.” Papers rustled in the
background and a minute later, J.C. returned to the computer. “Yes,
here she comes.”

Within a few moments, a picture of Rachel
appeared on the screen wearing a white glittering evening gown and
the Williamsburg Collection.

Dagger’s mind started to play out a scenario.
Maybe Rachel was unaware she had the real ones. Or maybe she did
steal them and tried to cut her partners out. He stared at the
fresh, innocent face on the monitor. Rachel Tyler did not look like
a thief.

J.C. stammered a bit, cleared his throat and
started again. “I beg your silence for a short time until I can
come to the states and see the diamond for myself. I am embarrassed
to say that our country would be in a rather awkward situation if
it were to get out that the Argyle Museum has lost one of its most
prized possessions. Of course,” he cleared his throat again, “not
to mention the loss of my job. It isn’t something that would look
tidy on a job resume.”

CHAPTER 31

“I want my money, NOW.” Mince tossed the
paper on the table and stalked over to the window. “Tyler is
late.”

“I’m meeting Tyler alone. I think it’s better
that way.” Luke gathered up the papers and dumped them in the
garbage. “You two go downstairs and have a drink. Give me about
thirty minutes.”

“I don’t like that idea,” Mince protested.
“We’re in this together and I want to hear every damn word that’s
said.”

“Yeah.” Joey’s dark eyes flashed. Apart,
neither one would take on Luke, but together they felt stronger,
more confident, more cocky.

Luke jammed his hands on his hips and
scowled. “I’m not even supposed to have hired you two but if you
want to be the ones to explain to Tyler how you fucked up and
killed that woman, be my guest.”

“We’re working on it,” Joey sneered.

“And we also have another offer for Tyler,”
Mince added. “So we ain’t going nowhere.”

There was a knock at the door. Luke regarded
the two men briefly, then opened the door to Edie Tyler.

Edie paced, billows of cigar smoke drifting
up to the ceiling fan in Luke’s hotel suite. She stopped, glared at
Joey and Mince, and then jammed the cigar into the ashtray.

“I have better ways to spend my afternoons.”
She dropped down onto the love seat, crossed her legs, and draped
her arms on the armrests. “Exactly why should I pay you two idiots
anything?”

Joey followed the curve of her calf up the
shapely legs exposed by the long slit on the side of Edie’s white
skirt. “Because we went through a lot of trouble and our time is
valuable.”

Edie laughed, and flashed her green eyes at
Luke. “You hired them, you fire them.”

Mince sat on the edge of the couch toying
with a nail clipper. He patiently worked from one finger to the
next, not paying much attention to Edie but watching more intently
on Luke’s reaction. Nail clippings were flying.

“Do you mind,” Luke said. “Do that in your
own room.”

Mince shrugged and shoved the nail clipper
back in his pocket. He looked quickly at Joey whose gaze had
reached Edie’s cleavage.

“Well, Joey and me,” Mince started, “we
figure our time and silence is worth about a hundred thousand
each.”

“WHAT?” Edie shot out of the love seat and
looked quickly to Luke who shook his head.

“Ten thousand each,” Luke said evenly. “That
was the agreed upon price.”

Edie reached for a cigarette and tapped the
end of it on the coffee table before accepting a light from Luke.
She glared at him and blew out the first puff of smoke in his face.
“You need to fix this problem…now.”

“Fix this problem?” Joey laughed and walked
over to retrieve two beers. “What do you think we are? A flat
tire?” He handed a beer to Mince.

Mince took a long swig. “Joey and me, we got
something more valuable than that earring.” The two conspirators
grinned.

“Like what?” Edie demanded.

Mince peered at her over the rim of his beer
can and announced, “We still got the body.”

“What the hell are you doing out of the
hospital?”

Padre walked into the living room holding his
arm against his chest. “I told you. Insurance companies are turning
hospitals into drive-thrus.”

“Here, have a seat.” Dagger offered to help
him to the sofa but Padre refused.

“Quit fussin’. You remind me of my wife.” A
gauze bandage could be seen at the nape of his opened shirt collar.
The old scar on his cheek was healing nicely though his face was
shallow from a loss of weight.

“I’m surprised you have so much color.”

“Liar. I’m as pasty as a dead carp. But at
least the bullet missed all vital organs. Once I got the water out
of my lungs, I was practically back to normal.”

Padre caught sight of Einstein under the
shower in the aviary. Peering up toward the catwalk, he asked,
“Where’s Sara?”

“Why is it everyone asks where Sara is? What
is it with you guys?”

“What? You think we want to look at your ugly
puss?” Padre laughed and then studied Dagger’s face. “How are your
ribs?”

“Getting better.” Dagger lifted the lid on
the box and showed Padre the earring.

“Damn, it sure looks pretty in pink.” Padre
sat down on the edge of the couch and examined the gem while Dagger
explained what they had learned from J.C. Kinnicutt. “Four hundred
million?” Padre whistled.

“Somewhere out there is the other earring and
the necklace.”

“Was she wearing the necklace the night she
was murdered?”

“No.” Dagger thought back to the night at the
Dunes Resort. Sara had only mentioned the earrings. The necklace
wasn’t something she would have missed.

Padre smiled. “Busy tonight?”

Sara looked around at the crowded tables at
the Seaside Cabana, a cocktail lounge in the Driftwood Hotel. She
could make out dark shadows moving restlessly behind tables and
booths in darkly lit corners.

A waitress in blue shorts, white halter top,
and sailor’s cap stopped by the table and gave Nick an approving
stare, her eyes layered in heavy lashes that seemed too long to be
real. He smiled back and ordered a beer for himself and a glass of
wine for Sara.

She gave Sara a casual glance and asked, “Do
you have some I.D., Hon?”

“She’s okay. Trust me,” Nick said, smiling
his patented Tyler smile. The waitress smiled back and offered no
resistance.

The room smelled of stale smoke and a variety
of perfumes and aftershaves. A large fish tank bubbled behind Sara,
and she turned to admire the colorful species darting from one side
of the tank to the other.

With her elbows propped on the table, Sara
began to chew on the knuckle of her index finger. She should have
just eaten dinner and gone home. She didn’t want to stop for a
drink with Nick but she thought she might get more information. Now
she felt trapped, a peculiar sensation spreading over her body. She
could feel eyes on her. Her knuckle stung, cracked open, and
started to bleed.

“You okay?” Nick grabbed her hand. “I didn’t
think that salad would fill you up.” He dipped a cocktail napkin in
a glass of water and dabbed at the cut.

Glancing quickly around the room, Sara could
see every female in the place had her eyes on Nick. Anyone who
could read a magazine or newspaper at some time in his or her life
had seen his photo in ads or in the society pages. Nick turned and
flashed his dimpled smile at a table of young women who had been
staring for the past ten minutes. His tan looked rich and
caramel-colored against his stark white shirt.

“How are things at home?”

Nick said, “A little strained. Ever
since…well, you know.” A strand of blonde hair drifted down his
forehead. Even a hair out of place didn’t deter from his looks. He
resembled a cross between Brat Pitt and a young Robert Redford.

“Is there a problem here?” The waitress’
lashes fluttered as she placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Oh my.”
She stared at the bleeding callous protruding from Sara’s knuckle.
“I’ll see if I can find a bandage.”

Once she left, Sara asked, “You seem
especially bothered by the news about Rachel.” She stared at the
beer, and how quickly Nick had downed it. “I would guess that your
stepmother’s disappearance five years ago has bothered you more
than you let on. Want to tell me about it?”

The waitress returned with a bandage and an
antiseptic wipe. She smiled at Nick and said, “Guess you’ll have to
kiss it and make it all better.”

“Owww.” Sara winced as the alcohol touched
raw skin.

“That’s okay. I’m blowing on it.” He held her
hand close and blew on the exposed area. Once he placed the bandage
on, he examined her other knuckles closely. “My shrink would say
you have a very nervous habit. Most people bite their nails.” He
held onto her hand longer than needed.

She slowly pulled it from his grasp and
studied those annoying bumps. “I guess habits are hard to break.”
She slipped her long hair back behind her shoulder and sat up
straight, as if some etiquette school matron had just slapped a
ruler against the back of her chair. The women in the room would
probably die if they knew she would rather be curled up on her
couch in one of her sack dresses and a good book than properly
attired in a cap-sleeve loose-knit sweater and skirt, sitting
across from the most eligible bachelor in probably the entire
Midwest.

“When did you start seeing a therapist? Five
years ago?”

Nick stared at her through the dark glass of
his bottle. “You’ve been hanging around a private detective too
long. Might be dangerous to your health. You be careful.”

Sara wasn’t sure if that was a threat. The
words may have seemed like it, but his eyes didn’t. She wondered if
maybe Nick were warning her against someone else.

She tried a different approach. “Do you think
your brother had anything to do with Rachel’s disappearance?”

“No, oh no.” His mind seemed to drift,
blinking back the memories. “No, there’s only one person at fault,
Sara.” He took another long pull from his beer bottle, completely
forgetting the waitress had brought him a glass.

Sara felt sorry for him. Nick knew something.
And what about Eric? Two siblings afraid that a young wife would
take their inheritance? Sara doubted it. At least she didn’t
believe it of Nick.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Nick tapped a
metal object on the table. It was a room key for the Driftwood
Hotel.

Sara stared at the room key. “I, uh…” Caught
off guard, her face flushed, but more from anger than
embarrassment. “A little presumptuous of you.”

Puzzled, Nick looked at the key and shrugged.
“Not at all. I just need a peaceful night away from the zoo every
now and then.” He flashed that movie star smile again. “Besides,
according to Sheila, Dagger is pretty protective of you and he’s
the last person I would want to tangle with.”

Sara stared at the key. Maybe, since Nick had
already been plied with liquor, he might open up more if she agreed
to help him to his room.

“Okay, Nick.” Her voice was a whisper, her
eyes innocent. “Let me help you to your room.”

CHAPTER 32

“You sure you’re up to this?” Dagger pulled
his truck to a stop and killed the lights.

“Never felt better,” Padre grinned. “Just
don’t walk too fast.”

Fog snaked its way from the forest preserve
behind them, crept through the underbrush, and curled around their
feet. They made their way down the road toward the lake and stood
in front of the townhouse where Rachel had died. The moon played
tag with a sky full of clouds.

Dagger turned on his flashlight, throwing a
wide beam on the shoreline. They ambled side-by-side down the
beachfront. “Let’s think about this. Rachel never lets on to anyone
that she regained her memory. She returns to Cedar Point to…do
what?”

The beam caught a wave as it drifted toward
them, lapping onto the sand, and depositing a stream of foam.
Dagger stopped and watched as the wave lazily retreated. The air
had a damp chill to it and off in the distance lightning lit up the
clouds.