Dying to Retire (25 page)

“Then why did you order the pills for Monica? She’s hardly a helpless female.”

“She asked me several times, and I turned her down, but she’s very persistent. When she wants something, she keeps running after you until you give in. She’s always over the limit on her credit cards. She said she’d pay me back. I thought I’d get her the pills and that would be the end of it. She’d have the telephone number and address of the company and could order them herself the next time. Then maybe she’d leave me alone.”

“And did she?”

“No. I ordered them for her again.”

“What happened the night Portia died?”

“Portia and I had a late dinner, and—”

I interrupted him. “Did she take her pills that night?”

“Of course. She took her pills every night before dinner.”

“And you didn’t notice there was an extra pill.”

“No. I never examined her pills. I just brought her a glass of water and went to get another for myself.”

“And then what?”

“After dinner she left to take her walk on the beach.” A tear slid down Clarence’s cheek. “I should have offered to go with her. She might be alive now.” He dropped his head, lifted his manacled hands, and pressed them against his eyes.

I gave him a minute to compose himself, and said, “Clarence, I need you to talk to me or I can’t help you.”

He raised his head, his expression bleak. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You didn’t kill her,” I said. “Someone else did. Help me find out who it was.”

“What do you need to know?”

“You were seen leaving the apartment that night. Where did you go?”

“I brought Monica her pills. She was at the rec hall for a yoga class or something, and said she’d stick around. I could give them to her afterward. But I had to wait, because Wainscott’s people were there for a meeting, and I wanted to keep out of sight.”

“Did you go right home after you gave Monica the pills?”

“Yes. And I was so pathetically grateful Portia hadn’t come back yet, that she didn’t know I’d left the house in her absence, I just climbed into bed and fell asleep. It never occurred to me that something might have happened to her, that it was getting late, that she should have been home by then. All I could think of was myself.” He lifted his eyes to mine. “How stupid I was. Stupid and selfish.”

“Why would Monica throw the box in the water?”

“Is that where the police found it? I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense. But so much of this doesn’t make sense.”

“How did Monica get along with Portia?”

“There was no love lost there, but I don’t think she killed Portia, if that’s where you’re going.”

“Why not?”

“She’s irritating, but she’s not vicious. She’s a flirt but she’s really very insecure inside. She’s getting older. She’s worried that youth has passed her by and she won’t be attractive anymore. It’s sad, really, but I don’t think it’s in her to kill.”

“Is that why you’re protecting her?”

“I hate this, Jessica. Don’t think I don’t. Jail is every ugly thing anyone ever said it is, even here where the crime rate is relatively low. I can bear it, but I don’t think Monica could. I know she didn’t kill Portia, but just as the evidence looks bad for me, it’ll look worse for her. And she’d never survive this.”

“Are you willing to bet your life on that?”

“They can’t convict me. I didn’t kill Portia.”

“People have been convicted on a lot less evidence than what Detective Shippee is holding against you.”

“He’s got a box, that’s all.”

“He’s got a witness who says you fought with Portia and threatened her life.”

“Never. It never happened. We may have disagreed on occasion, but we never fought.”

“Nevertheless, that’s what the witness will say in court.”

“Who? Who would say that?”

“I don’t know. But I’d like to find out.”

“I heard the rumor, but I don’t know who it refers to,” Minnie said to me when I knocked on her door and queried her. “Let’s ask Sam.”

Sam was lying on the couch in the living room watching a tape of a Miami Heat game, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his chest.

“Sam,” his wife said, picking up the remote and muting the sound of the game. “Jessica has to ask you a question.”

“Aw, Minnie, you’re interrupting the best part,” Sam said, sitting up and putting the bowl on the floor.

“You can rewind it when we’re through.”

“How do, Mrs. Fletcher,” Sam said, struggling to his feet.

“You don’t have to stand, Sam.”

“Yes, he does,” Minnie said. “The doctor said he needs more exercise. But you’re welcome to sit, Jessica.” She took a seat on the couch, I took one in a ladder-back chair, and Sam sank back on the couch.

“I’m trying to trace a rumor,” I said.

“What rumor?” asked Sam.

“Someone said he or she overheard an argument in which Clarence threatened to kill Portia.”

“Heard that one yesterday,” Sam said, “at the demonstration. Don’t know who it is, though.”

“Who did you hear it from?” I asked.

“Minnie, you told me.”

“I heard it from Helen,” she said, “but I don’t know where she got it.”

I made a note on my pad. “What about the rumor that linked Clarence and Monica?”

“Oh, that’s been going on a long time,” Minnie said.

“What has?” I asked.

“Well, the affair, I guess. I heard about it a long time ago.”

“Before or after Portia married Clarence?”

“Well, now, that’s a good question. I guess I first heard about him having an affair with Monica about five years ago. That would’ve been before Portia, for sure.”

“Didn’t the rumor stop when he married Portia?” I asked.

“Now that you say that, I’d have to say yes,” Minnie said. “Don’t you agree, Sam?”

“Huh?” Sam said. He’d been watching the silent game on the screen.

“Sam, listen for a minute,” his wife said. “Basket-ball can wait.”

Sam heaved a dramatic sigh, picked up the remote, and clicked off the TV.

“I’m all ears,” he said.

I had to suppress a smile, because he was—all ears, that is. They jutted out from the side of his head, making him look something like Yoda from the
Star Wars
film.

“Sam, the police suspect Clarence of having an affair with Monica, and that’s why they’re alleging he killed Portia. I’m trying to find out who gave them that information, and whether it’s true.”

“I told you this was a gossipy place, Jessica. That’s why I like volunteering down at the station house.”

“He goes again tomorrow,” Minnie added helpfully.

“Do either of you know if the rumor is true?”

“I don’t know,” Minnie said. “Helen and I aren’t very fond of Clarence. Frankly, we didn’t see what Portia saw in him. But perhaps we were influenced by all the talk.”

“Where did you hear it first?”

“From Helen, no doubt,” Sam put in. “Her shop is a fountain of news.”

“I think you mean fount, Sam,” I said.

“Whatever. That’s where you go if you want the latest gossip.”

“Then I guess that’s where I’ll go. Thanks so much. You’ve both been very helpful.”

“Do you think they arrested the wrong man?” Minnie asked as she escorted me to the door.

“Possibly,” I said. “That’s why I’m trying to separate the truth from the rumors.”

“Will we see you tomorrow at the Residents’ Committee meeting? Portia’s memorial is on the agenda.”

“I thought it was on the agenda of the last meeting.”

“It got tabled. No one could agree on a proper commemoration.”

“I’ll try to make it,” I said.

 

Helen’s shop was abuzz with activity and talk until, that is, I walked through the door. Then it was as if someone put a muzzle on all the ladies. They stopped talking and stared at me, watching my every move as if I were about to deliver the Sermon on the Mount.

Helen was standing at her reception desk with a phone to one ear while she mixed a goopy gray concoction in a plastic bowl. “No, dear, I don’t know any more than that. Listen, I’ve got two roots to do and a half head of highlights. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Helen, do you think I could talk to you a moment—in private?” I asked when she’d hung up.

“Amelia!” she shouted. “Where is that woman? She’s always disappearing on me.”

A young woman who’d been sweeping hair on the floor into a neat pile came over to Helen and whispered over her shoulder, “Amelia went to the drugstore.”

Helen shrugged, handed the young woman her bowl, and said, “You keep stirring this till I come back. Do not let it separate, hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“C’mon, Jessica. We can step into my office for a moment. That’s all I can spare.”

“Thank you, Helen. I promise not to keep you long.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t.”

Her office was really a storage room with a table piled high with boxes of hair products, an electric sterilizer, and an old washtub sink covered in spots and drips of permanent hair color.

I asked her the same questions I had of the Lewises.

“Told you I was never fond of Clarence. There’s just something so cold and calculating about him,” she said. “Now someone heard him threaten Portia. I’m not surprised.”

“Who overheard that argument, Helen? It wasn’t you.”

“No. I never saw them argue. If anything, he was too passive, I thought. You can’t trust a man who never talks.”

“Isn’t that a bit of a generalization?” I said.

“I guess. I just never got comfortable with the man. Couldn’t see with all Portia had to offer why she settled on such a milquetoast.”

“But she was happy with her choice, wasn’t she?”

“Yes. I have to admit she was.”

“Did she ever confide in you that she thought Clarence was unfaithful?”

“No, she never did.”

“Then it’s possible the rumors aren’t true at all.”

“Anything’s possible, I suppose.”

“So who told you Clarence was having an affair? And who overheard him threaten Portia?”

“Well, I never got any names, but I must’ve heard it in the shop. This place runs on gas.” She laughed at her own joke. “Ask Amelia. She’s the queen of scandal. Knows them all and tells them all.”

“Thanks, Helen. I’ll go find her.”

“You don’t think Clarence did it, do you?” she asked, sobering.

“No,” I said. “I think he may be the innocent victim of a smear campaign.”

“If that’s true, I’m very sorry,” said Helen. “I know my shop is the center of gossip in this town. If you find out the truth, let me know and I’ll set everyone straight.”

“I’ll do that. In the meantime, if you find out who started the rumor, I’d appreciate knowing who that person is.”

Weinstein’s Pharmacy had received an order of decorative items for Easter and Passover—even though those holidays were almost two months away—and the aisles were clogged with boxes of silk flowers, chocolate matzoh, marshmallow bunnies, spring-themed cocktail napkins, hand-painted glassware, flower-scented talcum, and china hens and chicks.

I found Amelia and her soon-to-be ex-sister-in-law, Marina, talking with Weinstein’s saleswomen, Donna and Sandy, as they unpacked a new shipment of honeycomb candles.

“And she died from taking diet pills,” Amelia was saying as I approached.

“Isn’t it amazing what a little blue pill can do?” Marina said.

“Thank God we don’t carry ephedra anymore,” Sandy said. “Harry was smart to get rid of it.”

“I’ve been on the Atkins diet,” Donna added. “It works better than pills, anyway.”

“They’ve got her husband in jail now,” Amelia said.

“They say he might have murdered his first wife, too,” Marina said.

“
No sabía.
You didn’t tell me that,” Amelia said. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“
Hola,
Jessica,” Amelia said when she spotted me.

“Hello,” I replied. “I’m sorry to interrupt the conversation.”

“No problem,” said Sandy, stacking the boxed candles on a shelf.

“I was hoping you to talk to you, Amelia,” I said. “Can you spare me a minute?”

“
Si.
Qué
desea?
What do you want?”

“I have a question about my hair.”

“Of course.
Hasta luego,
ladies. This is business.” Amelia left the others and followed me to a bench outside the front door, where we both sat.

“Just a little lightening up here will do it,” Amelia said to me, running her fingers over the top of my head. “And maybe a touch here, too.”

“You really think so?”

“You could go a bit darker on the sides. It’s the contrast of dark and light that makes it attractive.”

“Thank you,” I said. “By the way, I couldn’t help hearing you talk. It was Portia and Clarence you were discussing, wasn’t it?”

“Jessica, you were there when he was arrested. Helen never cared for him. I always thought he was the strong, silent type. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the faithful type, and now look at what he is.
Un asesino.
” She shook her head.

“Amelia, did you ever see Clarence with anyone other than Portia?”

“Me?
Nunca!
He was always very attentive in public.”

“Then how do you know he was having an affair?”

“Well, everyone said . . .”

“Yes, but who told you the first time?”

“
No estoy seguro.
I’m not sure. Let me think.”

Marina Rodriguez pushed through Weinstein’s door.

“Marina!” Amelia said.

“What?” Marina said, getting angry. “Are you gossiping about me?”

“
Sentarse.
Sit down. Jessica was asking me where I heard about Clarence and Monica. I can’t remember. Can you?” Amelia moved over to make room for Marina.