Dead, White, and Blue Read online

  “They are all longtime club members.”

  Max raised an eyebrow. Was Annie having another Pam North moment? That observation was a classic non sequitur.

  A trace of a smile touched her face. “Members know how parking is jammed on the Fourth. Shell didn’t arrive until eight forty-five. By that time, she had to use either valet parking or park in the overflow lot. It was clear that she parked in the overflow lot because she made her grand entrance from the terrace. If she’d used valet parking, she would have come in through the front of the club and entered from the center hallway. Anybody at the dance would know her car was in the overflow lot and could have taken the shawl and reached her car before Shell took the path to the lot.”

  He mentally apologized. “Or one of them may have spoken to her during the evening and they agreed to meet at Shell’s car and she could have said where she parked.”

  “Someone met her as prearranged or someone was waiting for her or someone followed her.” Annie took a breath. “With the shawl rolled into a rope.”

  “I’d guess Shell was dead within a couple of minutes after she reached the Porsche. Around ten fifteen. All this time, we’ve tried to figure out how the murderer killed her, then drove the Porsche along the back road and onto the course, then raced to get the colonel’s MG. Instead, the murderer only had to slip away to the overflow lot for a very short time. The murderer could have returned to the terrace to watch the fireworks or gone to get a car or, if it was Dave, started to walk on the road that runs along the golf course or, if it was Edward, hurried on home across the golf course. Meanwhile Jed found her dead, got the body into the Porsche, and drove to the lagoon.”

  “If Jed is innocent.”

  “The shawl.” That was all Max said, but it sealed his conviction. Jed might have picked up a broken limb or a rock and smashed Shell. But it was ludicrous to imagine him choosing a shawl as a murder weapon. Moreover, there was no evidence at all Jed ever stepped into the dance room, so he could not have stolen the shawl. “The murderer isn’t Jed Hurst.”

  Annie frowned. “Why did he get rid of the body?”

  “Scared.” Max knew that kind of fear, the heart-stopping, panicked fear that twisted up your guts, made you feel empty inside. “Maybe for himself. Maybe for his Dad. Or Mom. Impulsive. Kids act first and think later.”

  Annie’s gray eyes brightened. “That makes all kinds of sense. All right. We think Jed’s innocent. But the evidence against him is overwhelming. We have to find some new facts. Like The Court of Last Resort.”

  Max knew the story, too. Erle Stanley Gardner not only wrote the Perry Mason books and Donald Lam and Bertha Cool books, he tried to help people he believed had been wrongly convicted. “I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.” He didn’t want the kid with the beautiful swing to pace a prison floor.

  • • •

  Hi, Annie.” Joyce Thornwall was cheerful and pleasant.

  Caller ID simplified connecting these days. “Sorry to bother you, Joyce.”

  “Not a bother. I’m in the cheese aisle, trying to decide between Havarti or triple crème brie.” There was a smile in Joyce Thornwall’s cultivated voice.

  Annie imagined her as the captain’s wife at innumerable dinners and parties, effortlessly charming, genuinely kind, always perceptive. “Joyce, you know about Shell.”

  “The news is dreadful.” Joyce’s voice was grave.

  “Max and I are trying to help the family.” Certainly that was true. “It’s important to know who was on the terrace during the fireworks. Do you mind thinking back?”

  “I’ll do my best.” Thoughtfully, Joyce recalled this person and that.

  Annie scribbled notes. “You didn’t see Dave Peterson. Or Maggie. Did you notice anyone standing near the bleachers?” The east end of the bleachers abutted the path to the overflow lot. Annie listened, made more notes. “Right. If Don remembers anyone else, let me know. Thanks, Joyce.”

  Annie called club members whom Joyce had recognized on the terrace, took more notes. As she spoke to various members, she marveled at the willingness of people to respond to a purported survey. No one was questioned why the country club was collating information about the location of guests during the fireworks, specifically at the midpoint of the fireworks. When she was done, she moved purposefully toward the table covered with brown wrapping paper.

  • • •

  Max sat in his Maserati, air conditioner on high, hands on the wheel, frowning. It was all well and good for Annie to try to locate suspects on her sheet of wrapping paper. Suspects… That’s how he thought of them now. Not as friends or acquaintances. Suspects in the murder of a young woman who had been foolhardy and careless about how others felt. But Shell hadn’t had much welcome on the island.

  If Max had known her, he might have found her fun and lively, as her sister remembered her. Did she enjoy watching porpoises at play? Was she interested in sports? Probably she knew every tidbit about the glitterati in Hollywood. Whatever mistakes she’d made, she’d been very young and she deserved the chance to change and grow, know love. Perhaps she would always have been selfish, thoughtless. But perhaps not. Instead, life ended abruptly, harshly, and her beauty was destroyed in the still waters of a lagoon.

  Shell had perhaps intended only to taunt those she disliked. She had misjudged one of them.

  Max knew everyone involved. He’d seen them smile, heard them laugh. Now faces touched by unfamiliar emotions—fear, anger, despair, jealousy, resentment—flickered in his mind. Wesley Hurst, the once amiable rich husband who was unfaithful to his new wife and she to him. Dave Peterson, the burly, strong-willed man with whom Shell shared a bed at the Sea Side Inn. Maggie Peterson, haggard and worn, a betrayed wife. Edward Irwin, a back-to-the-wall failing businessman unwise enough to threaten blackmail. Eileen Irwin, an imperious woman proud of herself, her family, her social preeminence.

  Did Shell resent them because they had made clear their disdain after she destroyed Wesley’s marriage and became the second Mrs. Hurst? When she learned that Wesley was having an affair with Vera had she felt humiliated, scorned? Or did she care so little for him that his adultery didn’t matter? Was her affair with Dave striking back at Wesley? Or did she find Dave exciting and perhaps take malicious pleasure in injuring Maggie, who was Vera’s friend? Did Shell really intend to take a charge of blackmail to the police or was she simply punishing Edward for daring to threaten her? Eileen would have been stricken at the possibility of her husband facing trial with all the likely media and tabloid attention. Nothing in Eileen’s demeanor indicated she knew about Edward’s dilemma, but Henny insisted that very little escaped Eileen’s notice. Was there any way to find out?

  As for Shell, she might simply have been young and reckless, incapable of empathy, more a creature of carelessness than malice, perhaps finding amusement in her detractors’ discomfort, never imagining that she was evoking a rage that would culminate in murder.

  Max felt sudden brotherhood with a gerbil on an exercise wheel as his thoughts went around and around and around. Ever since Shell’s murder, they had focused on the dance club members Shell singled out for attention. Maybe it was time to try something new, something different. Hadn’t they discovered everything there was to know about Shell and the people around her?

  Richard Ely… No one was trying to find out about Richard’s last evening. There would be no investigation because his death had been deemed accidental.

  Max put the car in gear and peeled out of the parking lot.

  • • •

  Annie’s sketch of the country club and its grounds lacked proportion but everything was there, the main building and front parking lot, the golf pro shop, golf parking, the path from the terrace into the woods to the overflow lot, the temporary grandstand for fireworks that bordered the path to the overflow lot, the overflow lot, the exit to the back road that ran between woods on one side and the golf course on the other. She absently wiped her fingers with a napkin. Ing
rid had popped in with lunch from the coffee bar on a tray: chicken salad, fresh fruit, and Tazo tea.

  Now to use the information she’d gathered, pinpointing the locations of those angry with Shell between ten fifteen and ten twenty P.M. during the fireworks. Taking her time, she placed letters at various points: VP for valet parking at the front of the club, MG for the colonel’s car in the main lot, E for Eileen, V for Vera and W for Wesley on the terrace, J for Jed near the grandstand. According to Eileen, Edward had started home, walking on a golf path. Arbitrarily she put EI for Edward on the golf path near the seventeenth hole. Below the sketch, she placed question marks after Dave and Maggie. No one mentioned seeing them on the terrace. If either was present, they’d taken care not to be seen. That wasn’t an impossible task in the dimness. Maggie had been somewhere at the club because she was seen tearing out of the main parking lot in Dave’s car after the fireworks. Dave was at hand after the fireworks because he’d berated valet parking for giving the keys to Maggie, and later Emma Clyde saw him walking on the back road behind the club. There was no witness to his location when Shell started toward the overflow lot.

  However, there was no doubt that Wesley and Vera and Jed Hurst had been on or near the terrace. Annie hesitated, then with a determined nod, flicked a number on her cell.

  • • •

  Max didn’t hold out much hope but maybe the observant neighbor in Marian’s story knew something more about Richard’s last night. It was worth a try. However, as he turned into Black Skimmer Lane, he saw a red Chevy parked in the drive of Richard’s house. In the side yard, a boy around seven or eight kicked a soccer ball. Was Clarissa Ely at the house with her son? Max hurried up the walk and once again stood on the front porch of the neat frame house. He knocked.

  The door opened. Barely. The interior was dim. “Who are you?” A woman’s voice, wary and uncertain.

  “I took Richard’s dog to the vet—”

  The door swung wide. Hazel eyes beneath short black bangs studied him from a rounded face that might have been pretty if it weren’t for lines of worry and fatigue. “Do you have Sammy? I was afraid he’d run away.” She glanced past Max.

  Max spoke quickly, reassuringly. “I don’t have him with me. He’s at Playland for Pooches. He was sick but the vet fixed him up and I put him there until the family could be found. Are you Clarissa?”

  Her brows drew down in a tight frown. “How do you know my name?”

  “Ben Parotti thinks very highly of you. Are you staying here?”

  Her face was a mixture of sadness and regret. “Richard hadn’t changed his will. The house is mine. I wouldn’t want it but Kyle is excited to be home. And maybe,” she spoke as if to herself, “I can remember when things were good. Kyle and Richard used to go out in the yard and toss a tennis ball for Sammy to fetch. Those were happy times. Sometimes Richard drank too much and that’s when he got involved with… people. He was always sorry but he was sorry one time too many. Anyway…” She sighed. “I wish things could have been different. He was a sweet dad except sometimes he was slow on child support. But he loved Kyle.” Then a brief smile. “Sorry. That’s not why you came.” The worried look returned. “If Sammy’s at that fancy dog place, it’ll cost a lot of money to get him.”

  Max shook his head. “No charge. After he was discharged from the vet, he was put there until he could be returned to the family. I’ll run over and get him and bring him here.”

  “No charge?” Clearly the expense worried her.

  “Sammy’s a good dog. I left him there. I was glad to be able to help him.”

  She looked puzzled. “Were you a friend of Richard’s?”

  “We were acquainted. But that’s not why I came today. I’m trying to find out why Richard went out the night of the storm. You were here for a little while. Can you tell me if he said anything about going out?”

  “Why do you want to know? Are you a reporter?” Her tone was sharp. The hand on the door clenched, ready to slam the panel shut.

  “No.” His reply was quick.

  She still looked poised for flight.

  “Mrs. Ely, you love your little boy. There’s another boy, a few years older than your son, and he’s in big trouble. I’m trying to help him. Will you let me come inside and explain? My name’s Max Darling. You’ve probably seen the story about the woman’s body found in a car sunk in a lagoon on the golf course. I’ve been helping the family. My questions have nothing to do with you or anything that happened between you and Richard that night. I’m looking for information about someone who contacted Richard, asked him to come to Fish Haul Pier. I know the police spoke with you. The autopsy can’t prove that Richard was murdered but I think he knew something that was dangerous to someone. You may not be able to help me. But I know you wouldn’t want another boy to go to jail for a murder he didn’t commit.”

  She looked at him gravely, a plain woman in her early thirties with lines of sadness fanning out from her eyes and mouth.

  “Hey, Mom!” Footsteps thudded in the hall behind her. “Can I have some Kool-Aid?” The dark-haired little boy skidded to a stop next to his mother. He saw Max. “Oh. I’m sorry, Mom.” He looked shyly at Max. “Would you like some Kool-Aid?”

  Max smiled. “That would be great.”

  Clarissa suddenly smiled, too. “Please come in.” She led him into a living room transformed by a thorough cleaning and brightened by a green pottery vase filled with red hydrangea blooms. As she gestured toward the sofa, she said, “I have iced tea instead of Kool-Aid. Let me bring you a glass.”

  “That would be nice. Thank you.”

  He could hear mother and son in the kitchen. “You can take your Kool-Aid outside, honey.”

  In a moment, she brought a chilled glass of iced tea topped by mint.

  When the back door slammed and a little boy was safely beyond earshot, Max described the dance at the country club, Shell’s fateful walk toward the overflow lot, and Annie’s conversation with Richard the next Tuesday.

  Her face changed, drooped, emphasizing the fine lines at her eyes and mouth, old lines on a young face. “I should have known.”

  Max waited, watched as she struggled with inner turmoil.

  Finally, she gave a deep sigh. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she stared past him. “Richard sometimes picked up extra money. He’d see someone from the country club, somebody rich, out someplace he shouldn’t have been, maybe with a girl. Not his wife. Richard said guys like that like to keep the peace at home. He’d say a little something and mention he could use an extra hundred bucks for some expense and the guy would hand it over. Richard never pushed it, just a little extra every once in a while. Richard used to laugh about it, say he knew not to make it a hassle. When I was here that Tuesday night—I came because he was behind again with the child support—his cell rang. He looked excited and said he needed to take the call and maybe he could catch up with child support. It made me mad. If he didn’t spend so much at the casinos, he wouldn’t owe me money. I thought there he was again, up to no good, and I turned and started out the door.”

  Max kept his tone even, hoping, hoping. “Did you hear any of his conversation?”

  “Enough to think I was right. He was smooth as butter like he always was when he was up to no good. He said something like, ‘I always try to accommodate club members, help them avoid any… trouble. It’s often been my pleasure to serve members above and beyond my duties and I’ve been generously rewarded. I was out on the terrace near the French doors when you and Shell Hurst spoke. I heard you plan…’ I didn’t like the look on his face. He didn’t look… nice. That’s when I left. He was leaning on somebody and I didn’t want to hear it. I slammed out the door and I made up my mind I wasn’t going to take any more money from him. My mom’s coming to live with me to help with Kyle and I can go back to work. That night I left all disgusted. And now he’s dead.” Tears slipped down her face.

  “I’m sorry.” Max knew she grieved for the Richard
she had once loved, not the Richard who leaned on people. She knew the man who had been her husband. He was accustomed to getting payoffs for silence about discreditable activities. This time he couldn’t have known how shocking his words were to his caller. Richard didn’t know Shell was dead, but he knew she hadn’t been seen since the night of the dance and that people wanted to know who talked to Shell. Richard knew the answer. He heard Shell and a club member talking on the terrace in the shadows near the French door. I heard you plan…

  Something planned… To meet? To leave together?

  Richard overheard Shell speak to someone. He didn’t see someone follow Shell. Perhaps what he heard was more damning than that. Perhaps Shell said, I’m parked in the overflow lot. I’ll talk to you there. If so, someone could have left the terrace before Shell walked toward the path and been waiting near the Porsche. “Did Richard mention a name?”

  Clarissa shook her head. “Not while I was here. After the shrimp boat found Richard, I got a call from an officer who said Richard must have fallen from the pier. I wondered then about the call that night. I thought he was going to set something up, meet someone. Get money.” Her voice was tired. “That’s what I thought. I was going to tell the police, but when they got back to me, an officer said the autopsy revealed he’d died from drowning and the police didn’t plan an investigation.”

  • • •

  Annie frowned, clicked off the phone. Vera Hurst wasn’t answering her cell, which was understandable. She and Wesley might be in a tense discussion with Billy Cameron or they might be with Jed as he fielded questions from Billy. They would have contacted a lawyer by now. Possibly Jed had declined to answer questions without a lawyer and was being held in a cell pending arrival of counsel. Whatever the circumstances, Annie was sure Vera and Wesley would stay at the station, hoping for Jed’s release. If Vera and Wesley were in an office, Vera might have looked at the phone, seen caller ID, and deliberately ignored Annie’s call.