Final Sail (4 page)

“I didn’t think you’d care,” Phil said.

“You could have asked,” Helen said. “And for the record, I do care. Being a minister is a serious business, even to someone like me.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil said. “I thought it was part of going undercover. I’m working as a fake estate manager for Blossom and you’ll guard Mr. Zerling as a minister. Your ordination gives your cover authenticity.”

“Point taken,” Helen said.

“Something else is wrong,” Phil said. “What is it?”

Helen stared down the long expanse of polished oak and tried to find the right words. She wondered if the frugal Nancie had bought the overgrown dining set with the stiff, gold-plush cushions secondhand and recycled it for her conference room. Its ornate style was so different from the lawyer’s own practical office.

Phil interrupted her thoughts. “Helen, we left Nancie and Violet waiting on us. What else is wrong?”

“I don’t like this,” Helen said.

“This what? This case? This client? Do you think Violet is lying?”

“No, I think she’s telling the truth,” Helen said. “As she sees it. I also think she has a knack for making trouble for herself. She insulted her father’s bride before she even met the woman.”

“When a much younger woman marries a very old man, the main attraction is usually his money,” Phil said.

“I know that,” Helen said. “But not always. Sometimes a woman is attracted to qualities that transcend age—a man’s vitality and creativity. Violet never bothered finding out. She branded Blossom a gold digger and treated her father as a randy old fool. I suspect if she’d been a little nicer to those ICU nurses, they might have let Violet see her father.”

“The hospital has rules,” Phil said. “Blossom left those instructions, and the nurses have to follow them.”

“A busy nurse could look the other way if Violet wanted to visit her father,” Helen said. “They could convince themselves they were being compassionate. But none of them did. I’m betting Violet has ticked them off, too.”

“It’s true she won’t even say Blossom’s name,” Phil said. “She radiates anger.”

“I’d be angry, too, if I thought someone was killing my father,” Helen said. “But I’d try to control my feelings better.”

“Really?” Phil said. “I seem to remember that you attacked your first husband’s Land Cruiser with a crowbar, Ms. Cool.”

“I surprised Rob while he was having sex with our next-door neighbor,” Helen said. “That was different.”

“If you say so,” Phil said. “Dying in the saddle is a good way to go. At least old Arthur will die happy.”

“And before his time, if Violet is right,” Helen said. “Do you think Blossom poisoned him?”

“Can’t tell,” Phil said. “Blossom’s sudden urge to cook sounds strange. And she might have a lover. We’re certainly not getting the full picture from the daughter, and the housekeeper messed things up further. At least we work for an ethical lawyer. Nancie won’t treat Violet like a cash cow, milking the woman until her money runs dry. She must think Violet has some credibility or she wouldn’t have called us.

“Let’s take the case and investigate further,” he said. “You can check out Blossom when you’re at the hospital and get a feel for what she’s like. I’ll find out more about her if I get the job as estate manager. I’ll also do a background check on her.”

“I can interview the housekeeper,” Helen said. “Maybe she saw something useful.”

“It’s pretty clear she never saw exotic spices before,” Phil said. “I’ll tail Blossom and find out if she’s meeting a boyfriend.” He held
up his right hand. “And I solemnly swear I’ll consult you first on all major decisions for our agency.”

“Deal,” Helen said, and kissed Phil.

“Are you going to wear a Roman collar to the hospital, Your Holiness?” Phil asked. “That would look hot.”

“That’s overdoing it,” Helen said. “I’ll go ahead with this investigation and see if we turn up anything. I don’t want to be mercenary, but Violet is willing to pay.”

“We’re supposed to be mercenary,” Phil said. “We’re running a business. Violet is racking up more billable hours in Nancie’s office while we talk.”

“Then let’s rejoin them,” Helen said.

As she entered Nancie’s doorway, she heard the lawyer say, “Yes, they are new, Violet. They’ve been in business only a few months. But Phil was a private investigator with a multinational agency for many years. I have absolute confidence in Coronado Investigations. I’ve worked with them before and—hi, Phil and Helen. I was telling Violet about your qualifications. I hope you’re taking her case.”

“We’re ready to start,” Helen said. “When do you want me at the hospital?”

“Five o’clock tomorrow,” Violet said. Her tears had dried, but her face was still red and blotchy. “Some of Daddy’s friends are keeping watch for me in shifts. I told them I’d have someone in place by tomorrow evening.”

“I could start sooner,” Helen said.

“No, they love Daddy and they”—her voice wobbled—“want a chance to say good-bye.”

“Do they think Blossom poisoned your father?” Helen asked.

“They’re staying neutral,” Violet said. “They want to sit with their old friend and they don’t believe he’ll recover.” She rushed through that sentence before her voice broke. “Bob, one of Daddy’s partners, has the last shift tonight. Will you wear a Roman collar?”

“I discussed that with Phil,” Helen said. “It’s best to keep it simple.
I’ll wear a plain gray suit, black pumps and a small silver cross. I can carry my mother’s Bible.”

“Helen, what will you do if that woman tries to hurt my father?” Violet asked.

“I’ll ask her firmly and loudly what she’s doing,” Helen said. “I’ll yell if I have to. We’ll be in the ICU. There will be staff all around. I’m not afraid of some little blond trophy.”

“She’s not blond,” Violet said. “She’s a brunette with rather extravagant hair. That woman is definitely not little. She’s nearly your height—about five feet ten—and she does yoga and Pilates. I think she’s too thin, but Daddy calls her willowy. I doubt she’ll cause you any trouble, Helen. Sneaking up on a sick, helpless man is more her style.”

“I’d like to talk to the housekeeper as soon as possible,” Helen said. “How do I reach her?”

“Fran is moving into a condo in Coconut Creek,” Violet said. “I’ll call her now.”

Violet found her cell phone and speed-dialed a number. “Hello, Fran, it’s me. I’ve hired a detective for Daddy… . Would you be willing to talk to her today? Good. Her name is Helen Hawthorne… . I’m sure she understands.”

Violet punched
END
and said, “She’ll see you at four o’clock, but she says her condo is still a mess.” She smiled. “Fran has her professional pride.” She wrote on a small pad and said, “This is her address and cell phone number. Then you’ll report to the hospital tomorrow and stay with Daddy until he’s well enough to come home.”

“Violet,” Nancie said, drawing out her name. “Remember what I said. You realize there are extra charges if Helen is on duty more than twelve hours at a time in your father’s room?”

“I told you I don’t care about money,” Violet said. “I want to save Daddy.” Her voice cracked into sobs. Helen felt sorry for the distraught daughter.

“Phil, will you call that woman and apply for that ridiculous
estate-manager job this afternoon?” Violet said. “My friend Mary Lynn Reed will give you a good reference. Here’s the information about Mary Lynn’s property for your job interview.” She pulled an envelope from her massive purse and handed it to Phil.

“What am I looking for if I get hired?” he asked.

“Evidence of murder.”

“Attempted murder,” Nancie corrected.

“How do you think Blossom killed—uh, attempted to kill your father?” Phil asked.

Violet didn’t hesitate. “Poison,” she said. “Fran says she poisoned him. She’s no expert on spices—she thought cumin and turmeric were poison—but she’s smart. Fran recognized that woman’s behavior was suspicious. She just picked the wrong things off the counter. Poison is a woman’s weapon.”

“Not always,” Phil said. “I’ve known women to shoot, stab and strangle.”

“You don’t know that woman,” Violet said. “She’s sly. She knows how to ingratiate herself. Somehow she flattered her way into my father’s life on that cruise ship.”

Even a smart man can have a weakness for a beautiful woman, Helen thought. Especially if he’s a lonely widower. Why can’t Violet see that?

“That woman has sailed to India and Asia,” Violet said, “places famous for exotic poisons. I think she brought some home. So does Fran.”

“Poison isn’t always from the exotic East,” Phil said. “I could find enough at Home Depot to wipe out half of Lauderdale. Blossom could kill your father with his own medication, like giving him too much blood thinner.”

“My father doesn’t take blood thinner,” Violet said. Her voice softened into a plea. “Fran knows that woman poisoned Daddy. So do I. We want you to work at her house and find the evidence. We
think she used a poison that doesn’t show up on normal tests. That’s why the doctors can’t find it.”

“Violet, if Blossom used something from your father’s medicine cabinet, there may be no way to trace it,” Nancie said.

“If Daddy should die, I want that poison found during the autopsy,” Violet said, her voice rising.

“There won’t be an autopsy if your father dies,” Nancie said.

“And why not?” Violet was standing now.

“Because if he dies, he’ll be in a hospital under a doctor’s care,” Nancie said. “The law says there is no need for an autopsy. Autopsies are expensive.”

“I can pay for one,” Violet said.

“You still can’t do it,” Nancie said. “Blossom is next of kin. She’ll have to give permission, unless there is compelling evidence of a homicide.”

“That’s what I’m paying these investigators to find,” Violet said.

CHAPTER 4

F
rances Murphy Sneed was proud of her new condo, a corner unit overlooking a lake. She answered her door in a white polyester uniform. “Come in, Helen,” she said. “Don’t mind the uniform. It’s still good, even if I don’t work anymore.”

Helen wondered if the housekeeper with the crinkly gray hair had lost her identity as well as her job. “Thanks for seeing me, Mrs. Sneed,” she said.

“Call me Fran. Anything for Mr. Z. I need a cigarette and coffee. What about you: coffee, water, Coke?”

“Coffee’s fine,” Helen said.

Fran was a plump, comfortable woman. Helen guessed her age at sixty-something. From her work-worn hands, she could tell they’d been hard years.

The housekeeper’s condo building could fit inside the Zerling mansion, but it was light, airy and livable. Helen followed Fran into a beige-tiled kitchen with cardboard boxes piled in a corner. She poured two mugs of coffee and told Helen, “Sugar and creamer’s on the counter.”

Helen carried her coffee carefully across the living room’s pale
blue carpet. Fran patted a pillowy white sofa wrapped in thick plastic as if it were a pet.

“Delivered this afternoon,” she said. “I had a furnished apartment at Mr. Z.’s. When that witch Blossom fired me, I wanted to rent a furnished place, but Miss Violet wouldn’t hear of it. She bought me this condo.”

“Violet bought this?” Helen asked. And never mentioned it, she thought. She gave the woman points for her secret kindness.

“And the furniture,” Fran said. “That girl has a good heart, like her parents.”

Fran slid open the doors to a screened-in porch with white wicker. “This is my favorite room,” she said. “It’s the only table until my new kitchen set arrives. Let’s have our coffee out here.”

Fran sat down with a small, tired sigh and lit a filter-tip cigarette. Golden sun slanted through the green trees by the lake. Graceful white birds foraged in the lush grass.

“It’s like a painting,” Helen said.

Fran looked pleased. “Some condos, like Oak Hill, don’t have an oak or a hill. But White Egret has real egrets.”

She sipped her coffee, then asked, “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about Blossom and Mr. Zerling,” Helen said.

Fran’s faded blue eyes hardened with dislike. “She killed Mr. Z. Not a doubt in my mind. I worked for the Zerlings for thirty years. I ran the place and did the cooking. Nothing fancy, just good home cooking—fried chicken, steaks, chops.

“Violet’s mother hired me, and no finer lady walked this earth. Mr. Z. was lonely after she died. He said everything reminded him of Honeysuckle and he needed a change of scene. That’s why he took that cursed cruise.

“He called me all the way from India and said he was getting married. I was happy for him. But when I saw his bride, my mouth dropped open. She was fifty years younger than him. He was crazy about her. She acted like she was in love, but that’s what it was—an
act. She’d flinch sometimes when he touched her. Poor Mr. Z. never noticed.

“Blossom tries to act like a lady, but she makes little slips.”

“Like what?” Helen asked.

“I fixed salmon steaks for dinner and she didn’t know what a fish fork was. Drinks her tea with her pinkie extended. Pretends to be fancy when she’s common as dirt.

“Blossom wanted rid of me from day one. She complained about my cooking. Said it was fattening. ‘I need vegetables,’ she says. So I made a pot of green beans with new potatoes and a nice ham bone. ‘The beans are overdone,’ she says. ‘I like them al dente.’ That’s half-raw. It ain’t healthy.