Snagged (7 page)

“Yes, I did,” Regan said.

Nadine had become very quiet, her eyes darting back and forth as they talked.

“Dolly Twiggs was a decent woman,” Joey said matter-of-factly. “She could have gotten a lot more money for that place than she was going to sell it to them for. But she said one point one million dollars was all she would ever need and these people were like family to her. If those papers hadn’t been signed, then chances are that place would have been scooped up immediately. I’m sure you know what’s happening with real estate around here, especially beachfront property.”

“I’ve heard,” Regan said. “Did you spend much time with her when you went over there that day?”

Joey leaned back in the booth and played with his spoon. “I went up to her apartment. Her sister was there. They both collected seashells. They were all over the place. I sat on one and it broke. They said not to worry because they always took a six A.M. walk together every morning and that was the best time to find more.”

“Her sister?” Regan asked. “I didn’t know she had a sister.”

“She was in town for a visit. They both were going to take off on a three-month cruise. A lot of cruise ships leave out of the Port of Miami.”

“I thought Dolly was by herself when she died.”

“She was. Her sister wasn’t feeling well that morning and decided to sleep in. Needless to say, she was devastated.”

Regan shifted in her seat. ’ ’Where is her sister now?”

“She ended up going on that cruise by herself and then went home to Dallas. Said she felt too sad being around here, although I understand she’s coming into town this weekend for a memorial service.”

“So when the place is sold, the money will go to her?” Regan asked.

“She’s not looking to get rid of the people there, but she can’t afford to keep up the place either. The taxes around here have gone crazy. From what everybody says, the residents of the Fourth Quarter can’t come up with the money, so it’s going to end up going to somebody else.”

“Your office is handling it?”

“We handled the option and we also have people who are willing to put up a lot of money for it as soon as it’s free. We even have somebody who’s willing to pay them a bonus if they give it up before the weekend. But if Twiggs’s sister has somebody else who wants to buy it, she doesn’t necessarily have to go through us. So we could make a killing, or we could lose everything. But let me tell you something,” Joey said as he looked directly into Regan’s eyes. “I was happy I brought over that option when I did. My boss wasn’t too thrilled because we probably could have made a sale right away so they could settle the estate. I want to make a lot of money just as much as everybody else does. But all I could think about was what if it was my own grandmother in the same situation? I wouldn’t want her to lose her home.”

Nadine kissed him on the cheek. “See why I love this guy?”

“I sure do,” Regan said as Joey checked his watch.

“I’ve got to get back to work.”

“I’m going to the beach,” Nadine pronounced. “Want to come, Regan?”

“I’ve got a few things to do, Nadine, but give me your number and maybe we can get together later.” Regan was very anxious to head back to the Fourth Quarter and find out about Dolly Twiggs’s sister.

I
RVING FRANKLIN LOVED his mini laboratory in the basement of his home. Not only did it allow him to continue his experiments away from work but it also provided an escape for him from the annoyances of family life. Not that he didn’t love his family, but with his mother-in-law living under the same roof, his nerves were much more easily frayed.

It was Friday morning and he had just come down the steps to check on the panty hose that he had left steeping overnight in a Crockpot full of harsh chemicals. He pulled off the lid and with a large set of tongs extricated a lump of hose from the bubbling container. In awe he watched them dry off almost immediately and look as good as new.

“Damn,” he muttered. “These can’t be for real. There’s got to be something wrong with them.”

With that the basement door was flung open and his mother-in-law yelled down, “Let’s go, Irving. Did you forget you’re supposed to drop me off at the doctor on your way to work?”

Irving shuddered. He felt as if his day had been ruined.

“
IRVING
! Did you hear me?”

“Get in the car!” he yelled back as he dropped the hose in a plastic bag and set off for what was usually a pleasant commute to work.

I
NSIDE DOLLY TWIGGS’S apartment, her sister Lucille Coyle turned on the gas jet underneath the kettle. She jumped back as the flame leapt upward, igniting with a miniature boom. Oh, my, I forgot about that, she thought. She adjusted the pilot and looked around. Everything felt a little dusty. Neglected-looking. Well, it has been just a year since Dolly breathed her last, Lucille thought.

A wave of sadness passed through Lucille, almost freezing her in place. Tears stung her eyes. I’ve got to get busy, she thought. It’s the only thing that makes you feel better at a time like this.

She ran water over a shriveled orange sponge and smiled as it puffed up before her. Humming to herself one of her favorite hymns from church, she wiped the counters in the cozy kitchen. Poor Dolly, she thought as she straightened the decorative jars labeled FLOUR, SUGAR, COFFEE, TEA. I always tried to get her to put these on the other counter and have the toaster over here. It would have made so much more sense. And the glasses should have been right over the sink, where you can reach them if . . .

The doorbell rang. Lucille muttered, “Wonder who that could be,” put down the newly vitalized sponge, and futzed with her hair as she walked across the living room to the front door. She pulled it open and gushed when she saw who was standing in front of her.

“Richie, how are you? You look wonderful. Please come in. And who do you have here?”

“Hello, Lucille,” Richie said quickly, kissing her on the forehead. “I’m so glad you made it here for the memorial service. This is my friend Regan Reilly. She’s in Miami for my niece’s wedding.”

“How nice. Would you two like a cup of tea? I’m just making a pot. I also picked up some lovely jelly doughnuts on the way in from the airport.”

“That sounds great,” Regan said, smiling at the thought of all the people who thought you had to eat alfalfa sprouts and yogurt to live a long life. Lucille had to be in her eighties and she obviously relished junk food. It just goes to show that being uptight about eating all the right foods is worse for your health than munching a jelly doughnut and enjoying every minute of it.

Lucille fluttered into the kitchen as Richie and Regan made themselves comfortable. Regan looked around at the seashell decor and smiled. “When I was little and we went to the beach, I’d collect a whole bunch of shells and bring them home. Maura and I used to sit in the backyard and hold them up to our ears to see if we could hear the sounds of the ocean.”

“The surf crashing . . .” Richie agreed.

“Well, actually I think we picked up a little interference from the Jersey Turnpike. But then we’d paint them with watercolors and douse them with some godawful glitter and give them away as presents. Talk about destroying the natural beauty of this planet. We were an ecologist’s worst nightmare.”

“They were cute,” Richie insisted. “You sent one to me and Birdie for our anniversary. I still have it.”

Lucille reappeared, carefully carrying a tray of jiggling teacups, a matching flowered teapot, a creamer and sugar bowl, and a plate of doughnuts. She ceremoniously placed it on the coffee table with the lace doilies. “Here we go.” She poured two cups and handed them to Regan and Richie.

Richie helped himself to a doughnut. “Do you know what kind of jelly is in here?”

“Raspberry.”

“That’s my favorite.”

“Mine, too,” Regan said as she settled back with her first jelly doughnut in about eight years.

“Regan is a detective,” Richie began.

“Oh, my,” Lucille said as she sipped her tea.

Regan took a deep breath. “I’m not in Miami on business, but last night Richie and I were almost run down by a car outside here—”

“You were what?” Lucille interrupted, her expression aghast.

“We were on our way to Richie’s niece’s house when I think a car intentionally tried to hit us. I understand your sister was mugged on the beach right across the street from here. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was any connection. Richie thought it would be all right to talk with you.”

Lucille’s eyes clouded. It was still so hard for her to talk about Dolly without getting a lump in her throat. But she didn’t want anyone else to get hurt, so she’d do her best.

“I understand it was quite a shock when she died,” Regan gently prodded.

“Oh, Lord, yes. Whenever I visited, I used to love to walk the beach with her in the early morning. We were all set to go on a cruise together. I had flown in the day before to stay for a few days before our trip. She had made chow mein for dinner. Well, it’s not really chow mein, but she loved to call it that. What you do is take a cup of Minute Rice, two tablespoons of soy sauce—”

“I remember Dolly used to make that,” Richie interrupted.

“Right,” Lucille continued. “Now normally Dolly was a good cook, but the next morning I wasn’t feeling quite up to par. I had just flown in from Dallas and flying is a little dehydrating and I had had a few glasses of wine, so maybe that’s why I didn’t feel like getting up for our walk, but I wasn’t up to it, you know what I mean.”

“Of course,” Regan answered.

“Anyway, she was gone for what seemed like a long time to me, and I got up and went downstairs and there was a commotion across the street, and oh, my God . . .” Tears filled Lucille’s eyes. “Dolly was dead on the beach. Her little diamond earrings were ripped out of her ears and her wedding ring, which she never took off, was gone, and so was her birthstone ring. The seashells from her tote bag were scattered around her and her change purse was missing. She always brought it with her so she could pick up some nice hot rolls from the bakery on the way back.” Lucille paused. Her voice quivered as she said, “Dolly was face-down in the sand. Her forehead had blood all over it.”

“I understand she had a heart attack,” Regan said quietly.

“Who wouldn’t have a heart attack when somebody tries to attack you?” Lucille asked, exasperated.

“She had never had dizzy spells or a problem with her heart before?”

“Not at all,” Lucille said firmly. “She was like an ox. Right, Richie?”

Richie swallowed the last bite of his jelly doughnut. “Right. She used to haul out all the folding chairs for our meetings herself. She was always doing, doing, doing.”

“So she’d never been sick?” Regan asked.

Lucille shook her head. “No . . . well, except for the time she got a piece of glass in her hand when she was washing the dishes at my place. We were using Mama’s delicate china and glassware and Dolly insisted on doing it all herself because one time one of our guests tried to help and dropped a glass and we were heartbroken because it broke up the set of eight. Well, Dolly was there washing the dishes and one of the glasses broke and she got a little sliver of glass in her hand that didn’t all come out, but she didn’t feel it for so long, and then, when she came back to Miami, she had to have an operation to get it out and I had to fly back from Dallas to take care of her, and oy vay.”

“Hmmmm,” Regan said, then tried to steer the subject back to the incident on the beach. “Was there any sign of anything that could have been used to hit her on the head?” Regan asked.

“She had landed headfirst on a rock. They don’t know whether that’s what made her bleed or if the mugger had hit her with it and dropped it. But the funny thing was it was a big rock and not the kind you usually see on the beach. But to murder her for a little bit of jewelry and small change? Why?” Dolly asked and looked upward, shaking her head. “Maybe it was somebody who was crazed and on drugs.”

Or maybe, Regan thought, it was somebody who wanted to make it look like a robbery when the motivation was something else. “Was there ever any talk of the possibility that she had a heart attack and fell over and someone came by and stole her jewelry? That type of thing happens a lot with car-accident victims.”

“Not really. I would like to think that that’s what happened, that she died of natural causes. But in my heart I don’t think that’s what happened.”

I don’t either, Regan thought. “It must be hard for you,” she said.

“She was all I had left. I haven’t been here since she died because it’s just too painful. Everything here is a reminder of her. That’s why I’m hoping that Richie here can pull off his sale of the panty hose this weekend. I would love for the residents to buy this place, but if they can’t, I have to sell it to someone else. I can’t afford to keep it up and I just want to be finished with it. I want to get back to Dallas, where my friends are.” Lucille blushed. “I also have a lovely gentleman friend back there waiting for me. Arthur Zipp. We met on a bus trip to the Alamo six months ago and have been keeping company ever since.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Regan said gently.

Lucille smiled. “And if I don’t hurry back, I know that some of the other gals from our church group are going to start making casseroles for him. Moving in on Arthur, you know what I mean, Regan?”

“I know what you mean,” Regan laughed, thinking of all the times she’d been to cocktail parties, ended up next to some guy, so you introduced yourselves to each other, and before you could say “Beam me up, Scot-tie,” his wife or girlfriend materialized at his side, like a homesteader with a shotgun. Protecting her territory even though no attack had been planned. I can only imagine what would have happened if I were holding a casserole, Regan thought.

“When Birdie died I got a lot of casseroles and homemade cakes,” Richie offered. “The only trouble was I didn’t feel like eating. Regan, I’ve got to get over to the agency. Are you still interested in coming?”

“Yes, Richie; but Lucille, one more thing. Were there any newspaper accounts of her death?”