Second Honeymoons Can Be Murder (A Baby Boomer Mystery Book 6) Page 21

  I filled Jim in as best I could about Deputy Armstrong’s suspicions, that Mike had lied to her, and her possible announcement of Mike’s arrest at tomorrow’s memorial service. Of course, Jim interrupted me every other minute with questions, accusations, and more questions, so my sad tale took even longer than usual.

  But I didn’t cry. Not once. Points for me, right?

  When I had finally finished, Jim sighed. “Carol you’re doing it again. When are you going to stop jumping to these ridiculous conclusions? There is absolutely no truth to this, whatsoever. And I should know. After all, I’ve been working on the logistics of tomorrow’s event, not you.”

  “That’s another thing,” I said. “Why wasn’t I involved in planning this event? Have I been fired from The Second Honeymoon Game team and nobody bothered to tell me?”

  Isn’t it impressive, the way I can switch gears in mid-argument? It’s taken years of practice.

  “Carrie asked Mack to handle the memorial service details,” Jim said. “And, naturally, Mack involved me. We’ve been working on it most of the day.”

  “Yeah, I can see how hard you’ve been working,” I said. “Well, what about Mike? Will you talk to him? You’re his father. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

  “Let it go, Carol. I’m sure you misunderstood. Who told you about this so-called announcement from Deputy Armstrong?”

  I had to think for a minute, then said, “It was Kurt. Yes, I’m sure it was him.”

  Jim relaxed. “Well, that explains it.”

  Huh?

  “We were kicking around some ideas to ensure coverage for tomorrow, and Mack came up with the outrageous idea of leaking to the press that an arrest would be made during the service. It was a publicity stunt, pure and simple. But we finally decided it was a ridiculous idea, and decided not to go through with it. Kurt must have misunderstood.”

  I gasped. “Do you mean to tell me that I’ve been on the edge of a nervous breakdown for most of the afternoon and this whole thing was a stupid publicity stunt? How was I supposed to know that, when I wasn’t included in the planning meeting in the first place?” I glared at my husband.

  Jim had the grace to look embarrassed. I decided it was a good look for him, and pressed on with my questions.

  “What about the phone tip Deputy Armstrong got from one of the servers? Is that made up, too?”

  Jim shook his head. “You’ve lost me, Carol. I don’t know anything about any phone tip. Are you sure? How did you hear about this?”

  Well, I certainly wasn’t going to admit to my husband that I had been kneeling down with my ear pressed to the door during Deputy Armstrong’s conversation with Mike. So I played the “I can’t remember” card which, as I get older, is popping up with increasing regularity in my personal deck of cards.

  I frowned, feigning concentration, then said, “Sorry, Jim. I don’t remember who said it. Maybe Kurt?” I shook my head. “Nope, it wasn’t him. But wherever I heard it, I remember very clearly that there was a phone call to Deputy Armstrong from one of the servers who was working in the dining room last night. She said she witnessed a fight between a young man and Charlie as Charlie was leaving the dining room. Don’t you get it? The young man was Mike. And when he was questioned by Deputy Armstrong, he lied about it.”

  Jim looked exasperated. “Even for you, that’s a huge jump to an illogical conclusion. Why do you assume the young man is Mike?”

  “Because Claire saw Mike and Charlie together, too. Although she says that there was no fight. Charlie was in a hurry, Mike stopped him to talk, and Charlie brushed him off and raced out of the restaurant.”

  “So nothing really happened,” Jim said. “I’m sure Mike meant that there was no fight, not that he didn’t see Charlie at all last night. You misunderstood. Again. And Claire can tell Deputy Armstrong that there was no fight, and the whole matter will be dropped before it even starts. You were worried for nothing.” He gave me a smooch on the cheek.

  “Nothing? How can you say I was worried for nothing?” I was so mad that I wanted to stamp my foot in frustration. But I didn’t. The way my day was going, I’d probably break a toe.

  “Because there’s also a hole in what you told me that’s big enough to drive a tractor trailer through. Trust me, there was definitely no phone call from a female server who was working here last night, because the dining room only has male servers at the moment. Again, you must have misunderstood.”

  Jim patted my cheek. “But if it’ll make you feel any better, by all means, nose around and see what else you can find out.”

  “What about your detective career, Jim?” I asked. “Aren’t you Deputy Armstrong’s number one honcho on this case?”

  “I guess I deserved that shot, Carol. I was wrong to take over the way I did. So let’s call a truce. How about I do what I do best, and you do what you do best? Just be sure you get the facts straight this time. Now, I have to get back to work.”

  Chapter 41

  I’m going to retire to Florida and live off my savings. I’m not sure what I’m going to do the second week, though.

  “I know what I heard,” I insisted to Nancy and Claire. Having been summarily dismissed by my husband, the three of us (well, the five of us—Lucy and Ethel were present, too) were having yet another council of war back in Nancy’s villa.

  Correction: We’d have a council of war once my two friends quit complaining and I got them to focus.

  “It’s too bad we had to leave so fast,” Nancy said, ignoring me as she frequently does. “We were just getting our food. I barely had time to eat a single bite.”

  “That’s all you ever eat,” I said.

  “I’m careful about what I eat,” Nancy admitted, “but I do eat. Just in small portions. I intend to live to a ripe old age, and Mary Alice is always warning us about the dangers of too much red meat and fatty foods.”

  “Hey, look what I found,” Claire said. “It’s a room service menu. Let’s order something.” She waved it in my direction. “You too, Carol. You need to celebrate. It looks like Mike’s off the hook.”

  “But he’s not,” I insisted, grabbing the menu from Claire and venturing a peek. Hey, I’m only human.

  “Then you really need to order something,” Nancy said. “You always think better when you’re not hungry.” Her look turned thoughtful. “I wonder if there’s a way to have Bernardo pay for this. After all, we now know he’s the big cheese around here.”

  “But maybe nobody else does,” Claire said. “Or, at least, only a few other people do. Remember, Bernardo said he was here on the q.t. to check out his property investment and see how well the hotel was run.”

  “Well, he must have told the kitchen staff,” Nancy said.

  “Not necessarily,” Claire said. “Bernardo was wearing his concierge uniform when we saw him in the dining room, remember?”

  “I still can’t get over the fact that he really owns this place. And that he was Charlie’s secret backer,” I said. “I know this must mean something important, if I could just figure out what.”

  “Key lime pie and a big pot of coffee,” Nancy announced, picking up the house phone to call room service. “That’ll get our little grey cells percolating, for sure.” She paused, then said, “I wonder if there’s such a thing as a low-fat version of key lime pie.”

  “You’re no fun at all,” I said. “If there’s one time we need extra calories, this is it.”

  “Carol’s right,” Claire said. “Key lime pie is the Florida version of our northern cure-all, a big bowl of ice cream. I’ve always wanted to eat dessert first. And while we’re waiting,” she took out her notebook again, “let’s go through this one more time.”

  I groaned. “I’m not sure I can right now. My head is all fuzzy.”

  “I’ll resist pointing out that your head is frequently fuzzy,” Claire said with a smile that I hoped was sincere. With Claire, you never know.

  “Did you add what Mary Alice told us about Carrie’s
mother to your notes?” Nancy asked.

  Claire nodded. “Of course I did.”

  “I felt so sorry for Carrie when she came to see us a while ago,” Nancy said. “I just wanted to hug her.” She looked at me. “Carol, you really need to reach out to her. She needs a lot of emotional support right now. And remember, you were the person she really wanted to see, not Claire and me. We were just poor substitutes.”

  Of course, that made me feel guilty. I just can’t help myself—it’s an uncontrollable, automatic response. And Carrie had been named after me, which meant we were practically related.

  But then, my rational side (which I do listen to on very rare occasions) kicked in, and I remembered that Carrie had also been the one behind Mike’s decision to lie to Deputy Armstrong. What kind of a game was Carrie playing, anyway? Was she really the distraught daughter, or was there something more going on that I hadn’t figured out yet?

  I decided to raise the question with Nancy and Claire. After all, they’d just seen Carrie, and my only recent interaction with her (eavesdropping at keyholes doesn’t really count, even in my world) had been at the early morning meeting with the television show staff and Deputy Armstrong, when Carrie had begged me to help. I tried to remember the way she’d asked me, but her exact words eluded me. I shook my head. It probably didn’t matter, anyway.

  My phone bleated, startling me out of my musings. I was thrilled to see that it was my darling daughter, calling from the frozen north. At least one of my two children was still speaking to me. Unless she was calling to bawl me out for overstepping my maternal bounds once too often.

  “Hello, sweetie,” I said, mouthing, “It’s Jenny,” to Claire and Nancy before heading into the bedroom for privacy. I closed the door and sat down on the bed, trying not to wrinkle (or allow myself to be distracted by) the gorgeous pink and green patterned Lilly Pulitzer quilt that covered it.

  “Hi, Mom,” Jenny said. “I’m calling to check up on you. How’s the second honeymoon going? Or can’t you share those intimate details?”

  I was glad Jenny didn’t see me blush. “It’s a lot different from our first honeymoon,” I said, not quite sure where this conversation was headed.

  “Well, I should hope so, Mom,” Jenny said, laughing. “You and Daddy aren’t newlyweds anymore. And I don’t think there was a television show involved in the first one. Or, was there?”

  I laughed back. “Not that I know of. In fact, I’m not sure television was even invented all those years ago. And if it was, I bet all the broadcasts were still in black and white. So, how are you doing? How’s Mark? Is he back to work yet, or still recovering from his accident? I worry so because I’m not there to help you.”

  “No worries, Mom,” Jenny said. “Mark’s doing very well. He expects to get back to his regular police schedule next Monday. He’s also helping me with a little home improvement project while he’s convalescing. Nothing too strenuous, so don’t worry.”

  There was a brief pause, and then Jenny said, “I hear that you’ve been up to your old tricks down there in Florida. My sources tell me you’re involved in another suspicious death.”

  “It’s not like I go looking for these situations,” I said, trying not to sound overly defensive.

  “I know that, Mom. But you have to admit, you have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Even though Charlie King and I hadn’t seen each other since our grade school days,” I said, “he was a good man, and witnessing the car exploding, then finding out that Charlie was inside, is something I’ll never forget. It was terrible. I didn’t sleep at all last night.” I choked back a sob.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Jenny said. “I didn’t realize you’d actually witnessed the explosion. Mike didn’t tell me that.”

  “Mike?” I said. “You’ve talked to him? When? What did he say? How did he sound?”

  “Easy, Mom,” Jenny said. “That’s really why I’m calling you. Not that I didn’t want to talk to you, of course, but Mike texted me a little while ago and told me about the mess he’s gotten himself into down there. How you found out about it and yelled at him, and you had a terrible fight. He’s very upset.”

  “Well, he should be,” I snapped back. “Mike’s never talked to me like that before.”

  “What did Dad say?” Jenny asked.

  Hmm. How could I explain Jim’s total lack of involvement in Mike’s crisis without making him look bad in his daughter’s eyes? That was the question. Especially since I didn’t understand it, myself.

  “Your dad’s back in full public relations mode,” I said. “It’s like watching a retired race horse suddenly being tapped to run in the Kentucky Derby. He’s spending a lot of time with his boss, organizing tomorrow’s memorial service for Charlie King, doing some damage control about how Charlie’s death will affect the television show, and handling loads of media. He’s left the family business up to me, because he knows I have more experience with this kind of thing.”

  I paused for a minute and hoped Jenny would accept this load of outdoor fertilizer that I was spreading as the truth.

  “It’s nice that Dad has such faith in you,” Jenny said. “Especially since he usually spends most of his time forbidding you to get involved in any kind of investigations.”

  “We respect what each of us is good at,” I said, shoveling another load of fertilizer in the direction of Fairport, Connecticut.

  “I don’t know exactly what you’re doing, Mom,” Jenny said. “But please, please make up with Mike. I know you just want to help him. Deep down, I’m sure he knows that, too.”

  “Don’t worry about my relationship with your brother,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “We both needed to blow off a little steam. I’ll text him and see when we can get together tonight. I guess it’s up to me to make the first move.”

  “That makes me feel better, Mom,” Jenny said. “Keep me posted. I’m sure that things aren’t as bad for Mike as he said. He always did have a flair for the dramatic, even when we were kids.”

  “So, tell me about this home improvement project you and Mark are working on,” I said, switching the conversation to a much safer topic. “Can you send me any pictures? I’m not sure how long we’ll be in Florida, and I hate to be out of the loop. I wish Dad and I were there to help you.”

  Jenny laughed. “Actually, Mom, you and Dad have helped. In fact, it’s safe to say that you inspired this project. I think you’ll love it, and be very surprised. But you have to be a little patient. We’ve just started it.”

  It was nice to get positive feedback from at least one of my children. Although patience isn’t one of my well-known virtues.

  “I’ll contact Mike right away,” I said. “Don’t worry. And I’ll do my best to be patient about your project.”

  “Love you, Mom. Give Dad a kiss from me.” She clicked off. Leaving me with plenty of food for thought. So to speak.

  Chapter 42

  When I was a child, nap time was a punishment. Now, at my age, it’s a mini vacation.

  A loud knock on the bedroom door interrupted my musings. Nancy stuck her head inside and announced, “Food’s here! And you’ll never guess who delivered it. You better hurry up before Claire and I eat it all.” You can bet that Nancy’s threat got me moving pretty quickly. If I have a choice between thinking and eating, I’m sure you can figure out what I always choose.

  “Well, if it isn’t our very own version of Undercover Boss,” I said, settling myself in the chair closest to the food cart. “How nice of you to take such a personal interest in our cuisine.” Just in case my sarcasm was lost on Bernardo, I couldn’t resist adding, “Oh, now I understand. You’re still playing your concierge role, right? Delivering food to guests is all part of the job, I assume.”

  I took a closer look at the room service cart, overflowing with delicacies of all kinds. “I don’t remember any of this food being on the menu, and we certainly didn’t ask for this flower arrangement. Or
the box of Milk Bone dog biscuits. Don’t expect us to pay for any of this, because we didn’t order it.”

  I sat back, folded my arms, and glared at Bernardo. Unfortunately, Lucy, who had been snoozing nearby, heard the words “Milk Bone,” perked right up, and make a beeline for the cart. Like me, she rarely resists the siren call of food. I grabbed her collar before she did any damage, and said, “No. Sit.” Surprisingly, she did. But not before she gave me a very dirty look.

  Bernardo didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve made sure none of this will be added to your bill,” he said. “And you’re right to be angry, Carol. I deceived you and I owe you all an explanation. Most of the staff here don’t know who I really am, and I prefer to keep it that way for another few days. I hope I can count on your discretion. Going ‘undercover,’ as you call it, is one foolproof way I can check on how my properties are being run. And the fact that Charlie was shooting the pilot of the television show here was an added incentive for me to come. I like to protect my investments.”

  “Do tell,” I said, helping myself to a chocolate-covered strawberry.

  “Yes,” Claire said, speaking up at last and—surprise of surprises!—for once, agreeing with me. “Do tell. We’re all dying to know about your business relationship with Charlie. Pun definitely intended. Especially since Carol’s son, Mike, seems to be at the top of Deputy Armstrong’s suspect list for Charlie’s untimely death. There’s a whole lot going on here that none of us understand, and you seem to be right in the middle of the action.”

  I flashed Claire a look of gratitude.

  “How rich are you, really?” Nancy asked.

  I choked on the remains of a strawberry. Yes, I’d had another one. All right, two.

  “Did that private jet that flew us to Florida yesterday really belong to you?” Nancy continued, oblivious to my coughing fit. “And the fleet of white Mercedes, too?”