Final Sail (29 page)

“‘Arthur’s daughter hates me,’ Blossom said. ‘She’s been to that lawyer, Nancie Hays. Hays is trouble.’

“‘So?’ Zack said. ‘You can afford good lawyers, too. If anything happens to Violet so soon after Daddy bit the dust, it will look suspicious.’

“Zack gulped his beer and ordered another,” Phil said. “He told her, ‘I don’t know why you offed the old guy, anyway. You could have slipped out any time to see me.’

“‘No, I couldn’t,’ she said. ‘He was around the house all the time. He couldn’t keep his hands off me. It was horrible. He’d go to his office sometimes, but I never knew when. The one time I went to see you, that housekeeper caught me. Couldn’t wait to tell me the next day.

“‘I wanted his money and I got it. Now the daughter’s after me. She’ll fight me every step of the way unless I do something. That’s why I kept it. They didn’t find it in him and they won’t find it in her. Most medical examiners don’t know to look for it and he didn’t have an autopsy. She won’t, either. Her death will look like a heart attack. Runs in the family.’

“Then she laughed,” Phil said.

“She wants to kill Violet, too,” Helen said. “That gives me chills.”

“It made Zack hot under the collar,” Phil said. “His voice got low and threatening. ‘Don’t do it, Blossom,’ he said. ‘Be patient a little longer. Once his estate makes it through probate, we can get married.’”

“What did Blossom say to that?” Helen asked.

“Nothing,” Phil said. “The silence was so loud even a lunkhead like Zack realized she didn’t want to tie the knot. He was so upset he abandoned his beer and started whining. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said. ‘I thought you wanted to marry me.’

“Blossom got real cagey. ‘I’m not sure I want to tie myself down again so soon, Zack.’

“He got mad. He gripped his beer bottle so hard I thought it would crack. ‘It’s that new handyman, isn’t it?’ he said.”

“Zack was jealous,” Helen said.

“Of me,” Phil said, and grinned. “I realize I’m serious competition—”

“Can we go back to the story?” Helen asked. “They were arguing and Zack was jealous.”

“Right. Blossom said, ‘Keep your voice down. He’s not a handyman. He’s an estate manager.’

“Zack started whining again. ‘It’s not fair,’ he said. ‘I do the dirty work—’

“‘Dirty work?’ Blossom said. ‘You picked two off the ground.’

“‘That’s two more than you picked up,’ Zack said. ‘You thought that was a mango tree. I’m the one who found out why you couldn’t eat those mangoes. I bothered to talk to the girl at the hotel.’

“‘You must have been talking in braille,’ Blossom said, ‘the way you had your hands all over her.’

“‘Well, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had them,’ Zack said. ‘I gave you a wedding present—the way to end your marriage. A secret way. Of course it doesn’t have to stay a secret. I could tell the police what really killed Arthur.’

“‘You’d go to prison, too,’ she said.

“‘Not if I cut a deal,’ he said. ‘I didn’t make that curry. I just gave you some pretty seeds. I had no idea they were poison. There’s no proof I had anything to do with Arthur’s death. No one ever saw me at his house, not even that nosy housekeeper. Don’t forget, Arthur wasn’t cremated. They can still dig him up and find it.’

“‘I couldn’t cremate him,’ Blossom said. ‘He had a prepaid burial plan.’

“That’s when Blossom seemed to realize her hunk had his own plan. She hugged him and kissed his cheek. ‘Zack, honey, I’m grateful,’
she said, ‘but I’m not ready to get married so soon after Arthur. It wouldn’t look right. What if I gave you a gift instead?’

“‘How big a gift?’ Zack asked. Suddenly he was sober.

“‘Two million dollars,’ she said.

“‘Pocket change,’ Zack said. ‘I’m not interested in a going-away present. If I marry you, I’m entitled to five million. Actually, I’m entitled to more. But I’m not greedy. Marry me and we’ll have a nice arrangement. You’ll go your way and I’ll go mine. We’ll both have enough to do whatever we want.’

“‘I’ll think about it,’ Blossom said. Her voice could have frosted beer mugs, but Zack didn’t notice.”

Phil turned off the highway in Lake Worth, a town near Palm Beach. Soon they were in a neighborhood of Latino working people.

“Then what happened?” Helen asked.

“The bar owner came by and asked me—or rather Cool Bob—if I’d look at the filters in the main unit. I looked, but it could have been run by gerbils for all I knew. I said I had new filters in the truck, ducked out the door, jumped in the truck and didn’t look back.”

“That’s it?” Helen didn’t hide her disappointment. “You never learned the name of the poison?”

“Yes, I did,” he said. “Later. I Googled ‘poison,’ ‘mango’ and ‘Maldives’—that’s the islands where she married Arthur. That’s how I found out about the suicide tree,
Cerbera odollam
. Grows in India and southern Asia. Has pretty white flowers and fruit like small mangoes. The seeds are highly poisonous. Blossom could easily mix them in spicy food—like curry—and the old man would never know what he ate. It’s a common poison in southern Asia, but not well-known here.”

“Blossom got away with murder,” Helen said.

“Not yet,” Phil said.

The Jeep cruised down Military Trail, a wide street dotted with
car repair shops, pawnshops and Latino supermarkets. Tucked between them were small cinder block restaurants, painted bright turquoise, yellow or red.

“See that Mexican restaurant there?” Phil said.

“The one with the big Closed sign?” Helen asked.

“That’s where Blossom killed her boyfriend,” Phil said. “Right now the docs think Zack died of food poisoning after a Mexican dinner. I know Blossom poisoned him. I saw her. I just didn’t realize it. The restaurant was unfairly shut down. I’ll give you the details over dinner. You’re going to help me prove she’s a killer.”

“Do I get dessert?” Helen asked.

CHAPTER 34

T
acos al Carbon looked like a late-night fiesta. A square of asphalt behind the Jiffy Lube on Military Trail was strung with lights and packed with people. Young women in vivid clothes looked like they were finishing—or starting—a night at the clubs. They chatted and flirted with young dark-haired men. Older men and women in uniforms and scrubs had the weary look of workers heading home. Some placed orders in rapid Spanish. Others spoke slow “gringo Spanish” or English.

All were there with one purpose—to celebrate real Mexican food.

Helen saw yellow taco trucks with red awnings on one side of the lot and a yellow brick building on the other. A sign promised
ROASTED CORN
.

Diners picked their drinks out of white plastic coolers and bellied up to the trucks to put in their orders and pay. Phil parked the Jeep in the back of the crowded lot and said, “I know what I want. What can I get you?”

“A chicken burrito,” Helen said. “And guacamole.”

“You want a beer?” he asked, poking through a cooler.

“Water,” Helen said. “We have to meet the captain at seven thirty tomorrow morning.”

“Quick! That couple is leaving the picnic table at the end of the lot,” Phil said. “Snag it.”

The young Latino couple was still gathering their trash when Helen claimed the table. She watched Phil juggle two brimming paper plates, a bottle of water, a beer and an aluminum container with a white paper bag on top. Once the food was safely on the table, Phil pulled a wad of paper napkins from his pocket.

“You’re good enough to serve on the high seas,” Helen said.

Her chicken burrito was as big as a rolled hand towel and crammed with white meat. Phil’s was the same size, but oozing brown gravy. He happily bit into it.

“What did you get?” she asked.

“Lengua,”
he said. “That’s a tongue burrito.”

She shuddered.

“It’s seriously good,” he said, taking a swig of beer. “Tastes like delicately flavored, slightly chewy beef.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Helen said.

He took the lid off the aluminum container. Thick chunks of ripe avocado were covered with drifts of
queso blanco
—white cheese. He dug into it with a tortilla chip from the grease-spattered bag. “Try this guacamole,” he said. “It’s like avocado fudge.”

“It’s like avocado cream with cilantro,” Helen said. “Tell me how Blossom killed Zack before I fall into a Mexican-food stupor.”

“Zack’s last meal wasn’t nearly as good as this one,” Phil said. “This time, I was disguised as Rasta Man. The couple drove to the restaurant I showed you. I followed Blossom in my rental car. Zack got there first and took a table outside. They ordered tacos, salsa and chips. Blossom fussed over Zack, dipping tortilla chips into the salsa and feeding him. He loved it. He drank beer and she had margaritas.

“He excused himself to use the men’s room. While he was gone, Blossom asked for more chips and salsa. When the salsa came, she
sprinkled something on it from a little bottle. I thought it was extra hot sauce. The table had a rack of hot sauce bottles. I watched her put the bottle in her purse and figured she was stealing it.”

“When Zack came back, she kept kissing him and feeding him chips and salsa. He’d eaten most of the salsa and she was snuggled up to him.”

“Quite a change from the furious woman in the Deerfield Beach bar,” Helen said.

“She seemed in love with Zack,” Phil said. “That’s where I made my mistake.

“Zack was pretty drunk by now. He put his arms around her and said, ‘Baby, I know it’s too soon, but I love you. I can’t live without you. I don’t want to rush you, but I want to marry you. I’ve known you since San Diego. You’re smart and ambitious. I’ll do anything for you. I already have. I helped you get your new identity. I followed you here and then I stayed away because you asked me, though it nearly killed me. I love you. I need you. You can pick the date, but please say yes.’

“She hesitated a bit, then batted her eyelashes and said, ‘Yes, but on one condition.’

“‘Name it,’” he said.

“‘I’ll marry you after a year’s mourning for Arthur,’ she said. ‘Will you wait for me?’

“Zack was all over her then, kissing and saying she’d made him the happiest man in Florida. He ordered more drinks. They kissed and toasted and talked about where they’d hold the ceremony. Blossom said she wanted to get married on the beach.”

“Again?” Helen said. “Her beach marriage to Arthur didn’t work out so well for the groom.”

“I doubt if Zack was thinking of Arthur,” Phil said. “He was sloshed. Blossom asked if he could make it home alone. Zack said he was fine. He knew which roads to take to avoid the cops.”

“Blossom paid the bill and walked Zack to his car. He kissed her
good night so hard he practically dented the car. She waved good-bye. I followed her back home.”

“Two days later, I read a brief item in the
Sun-Sentinel
about a Zachary Crinlund of West Hills who was taken to the hospital at two a.m. with seizures and vomiting. He’d called 911 from his apartment. Zack lapsed into a coma and did not regain consciousness. The news said Zack’s death was probably food poisoning. I think she poisoned him. That wasn’t hot sauce Blossom sprinkled in his salsa. I watched her kill him.”

“With the help of the suicide tree?” Helen asked.

“Different symptoms,” Phil said. “I’m going to keep looking for that poison, too.”

“In a fifteen-thousand-square-foot house?” Helen said. “That’s impossible. You’re also searching for the seed of the suicide tree, and you haven’t found that, either.”

“It’s there,” he said. “Both those poisons are. I know it. Whatever she’s using, she won’t throw them away.”

“I don’t understand why she’d keep them. That’s stupid,” Helen said.

“Murder has been easy for her,” Phil said, “and she’s gotten away with it twice—at least that’s what she thinks. Killing anyone who gets in her way is becoming a habit. She murdered poor old Arthur for his money. She killed Zack when he tried to pressure her into marriage. Now I bet she’s setting her sights on Violet, who hired a tough lawyer. She’s going to try to make friends with Violet.”

“It won’t work,” Helen said. “Arthur’s daughter can’t stand her. Violet can’t even say her stepmother’s name.”

“Blossom is a convincing actress,” Phil said. “When I watched her, I thought she was in love with Zack. We need to be careful. If she makes any overtures to our client about burying the hatchet, we can’t let Violet become her friend.”

“That should be easy,” Helen said. “We’ll clue in Nancie, her lawyer. Do you want to meet with both of them?”

“Not yet,” Phil said. “Zack lived in West Hills. That’s Detective McNamara Dorsey’s territory. Right now Zack’s death isn’t officially a murder. I’m hoping to give Detective Mac those poisons. I’m searching the Zerling house a few rooms at a time. I’ve done the pool house, two guest rooms and three baths. Tomorrow, I search the breakfast room and the kitchen.”

“Be careful, Phil,” Helen said. “Don’t eat anything Blossom gives you.”

“I don’t,” he said. “I bring my lunch. But she keeps asking me to have a manhattan with her. I keep telling her I’m a beer drinker.” He emptied his bottle.

“Maybe she needs a condolence visit from her spiritual adviser,” Helen said.