11 Hanging by a Hair (24 page)

Brianna nodded, her long hair fixed in a ponytail. “The girl’s parents whisked her away to Europe, not only to get her apart from Mr. Krabber, but also because she was pregnant. It seems to me her lawyer husband needed a mother for his kids, and she needed a man to raise her son. The marriage worked out for both of them.”

“From their many years together, I’d assume it was a good match in the long run,” Dalton remarked.

Marla grinned. She saw that expression often whenever she and Brie dominated the conversation. He didn’t like to be left out.

“What are you hoping to gain by your interview?” Marla asked, appealing to the investigator side of him.

“I’d like to learn the boy’s location and if he knows his true parentage.”

“You’re not certain he is Alan’s son, are you?”

“It’s just a theory at present. If he isn’t related, I can eliminate this angle. But the ex-girlfriend might be able to give us more insights into Krabber’s character. Who knows, maybe she followed his activities through the years. It’s worth a shot to see her.”

“And it gives us a great excuse for a beach weekend. I’m glad you suggested that we stay overnight, although I’m not pleased Brie is missing school tomorrow.”

“It’s going to be a boring day anyway, Marla. I won’t miss anything important.”

“Just make sure you get your assignments from one of your friends. Hey, why don’t you put your cell phone away and look at the scenery? Let’s play Count the Gators.”

Brie gazed at the canal bordering the road. “I don’t see any. It’s probably too warm out.”

“Well, look at the birds then. There’s an anhinga.” She pointed to a gray bird with a large wingspan sitting on the bank.

They’d already passed the river of sawgrass with its unending view stretching to the horizon. Having entered the cypress preserve, she knew it took an hour to reach Naples at the other end.

The divided highway had moderate traffic so they made good time. Fluffs of white clouds floated overhead in a clear blue sky. Marla couldn’t wait to get to the beach. It had been ages since she’d taken an entire day off to relax. She gazed at the egrets and herons and other birds as they drove along, a forest of cypress trees bordering the road.

They turned south on Collier Boulevard, an eighteen mile stretch that led them toward a network of islands strung out below Naples. The shrubbery lowered from tall trees to scrub brush and palms.

Marla consulted the directions she’d printed out earlier. They’d locate their hotel first before going to their rendezvous.

Upon arriving at the front gate, Dalton told the parking attendant they were checking in, and he waved them through.

“You know the room won’t be available until later,” Marla said. “We’re too early. We could get lunch and then head over to Gayle’s store.”

“Let’s go inside and do the paperwork,” Dalton suggested as he pulled into a parking space. “I’d rather stash our luggage at the hotel than leave it in the trunk.”

They trundled into a spacious lobby with floor to ceiling glass windows overlooking the pool area and the sparkling sea beyond. Marla hung back with Brianna while Dalton approached the front desk.

“Man, I can’t wait to lie out.” Brianna pointed to the sunbathers.

Marla was more interested in food. Usually Dalton was the hungry one, but she’d only eaten a blueberry muffin and yogurt that morning.

While eager to enjoy the resort facilities and take a much-needed break from her routine, she hoped this mission would prove fruitful. What could they hope to gain by talking to Alan’s old girlfriend? Would she even admit it if her son belonged to him?

Several hours later, Marla fortified herself with a deep breath before entering the clothing boutique for their interview with Gayle Lindberg. Her stomach felt satisfied after a delicious meal of baked stuffed shrimp at a scenic restaurant overlooking the water.

Inside the boutique, racks filled with colorful beach clothing tempted visitors. Caribbean music played in the background, lifting her mood with its bouncy beat, while citrus scented the air-cooled interior.

“Look at all this cool stuff!” Brianna wandered off toward one of the clothing carousels.

Marla plastered a smile on her face as she and Dalton approached the cash register. “Hi, we’re here to see Gayle,” she said to the tanned woman in a sundress behind the counter.

“That’s me. You must be the folks who called about Alan.” Gayle had short, bleached blond hair, a trim figure, and a ready grin.

Marla would put her age in the early sixties. A round of introductions followed, wherein Dalton confirmed his identity as a police detective.

Her gaze caught on a pair of turquoise cropped pants and a host of matching shirts. With effort, she wrenched her attention away from temptation. Another saleslady had gone over to assist Brie, who already had an armful of outfits to try on. Marla could shop later.

“I was so sorry to hear about Alan.” Gayle leaned an elbow on the counter. “It’s hard to believe someone would want to harm the poor man.”

“Did you ever think about getting in touch with him?” Dalton’s broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his malachite green polo shirt.

“Of course not. My Donald wouldn’t have it. I promised him I wouldn’t ever attempt to contact Alan. He insisted on this vow as a condition of our marriage, and I’m not a person who goes back on her word.”

“Donald knew about your former engagement?” Marla asked.

“It wasn’t any secret. My mother informed him of my situation right from the start. His young wife had died from cancer, you see. He’d been heartbroken and left with two children. One was barely a year old.”

“He must have been lost with grief,” Marla said, trying to understand. “Why would he jump into a new relationship so soon?”

“Donald was entering a new law practice, and he didn’t have time to raise the girls. He didn’t really want to date again, not for a long while. He was afraid to love someone else for fear of losing her like his first wife.”

“Did he consider hiring a nanny, or couldn’t he afford one?”

“Oh, no. He wouldn’t hear of it. Elise, the toddler, went into daycare. He found a neighbor to watch the baby during the day. It was a difficult time.”

“You were pregnant when you met him?” Dalton said with a sidelong glance at Marla.

She liked how he sought reassurance from her presence and gave him an encouraging smile in response.

“You know about that?” Gayle said in a choked whisper.

“We know you fled to Europe after you got engaged. We met Alan’s nephew, Philip Byrd, and he told us some of the story. You wrote Alan a ‘Dear John’ letter.”

“That’s true. My parents felt he wasn’t good enough for me, but mostly they didn’t approve because he wasn’t Jewish. That mattered more back in the day, you know? It didn’t matter that Alan was hard working and in love with me. He may not have had an advanced education, but he crawled up the ladder and made a success of himself.”

“How did you know? Did you follow his activities?” Dalton drew imaginary doodles on the counter surface.

Gayle glanced away. “I still held him in my heart. I felt so bad about what I had done that I wanted to see if he could find happiness. Knowing he did well in life was important to me.”

“And yet he didn’t ever marry.” Marla avoided any hint of censure. She’d done her share of turning away suitors. Someone always got hurt, but when you were young, you were callous about those things. Girls had to kiss a lot of frogs before finding their prince.

“Alan stayed single, but he dated around. It wasn’t my fault he didn’t settle down. I figured I’d done him a favor by cutting him loose. We were way too young to get married or to truly know our hearts.” Gayle paced the small area, standing aside when the other saleslady came to ring up a customer.

Marla glanced around the interior, seeking Brianna’s familiar dark head and not spotting her. She must be in the dressing room.

“And yet you wed Donald not so long afterward,” Dalton said after the saleswoman went back to the floor. When Gayle gave a curt nod but didn’t elaborate, he reminded her, “Alan

Krabber was murdered, ma’am. Anything you tell us may be helpful in bringing his killer to justice.”

“Of course.” Gayle gave a deep sigh, as though unburdening her soul.

Maybe it would bring her comfort to tell us what had transpired so many years ago, Marla thought. In any event, Dalton was right. An item that seems insignificant now might be important later to the case.

“Our parents thought we would suit each other, and I could be the mother Donald needed for his children. After losing the woman he loved to a painful death, he wasn’t interested in sentiment. Fortune smiled upon us when we grew to care for each other.”

“And your baby?” Dalton asked. “How did that work out?”

“My father wanted me to have the baby in Europe and give it up for adoption, but I refused. So this was the solution they found for me. Donald agreed to raise the child as his own. Actually, he was delighted to have a son.”

Marla gasped. Gayle had almost admitted she’d given birth to Alan Krabber’s baby.

“Did you ever tell the boy about his true parentage?” Dalton said, stroking his jaw.

“Ethan found out by accident. I’d taken all the children at one time or another to visit our safety deposit box, so they’d know what to do if anything ever happened to us. Riffling through the papers, Ethan discovered his birth certificate in the vault. I’d given Alan’s name as his father. I had to tell him the whole story then.”

“How did he react?” Marla’s pulse accelerated. This angle might affect Dalton’s case.

“How do you think? He’d been raised thinking Donald was his father, and then to find out he wasn’t . . . it hurt him to the core. But he realized Donald loved him as his own son, and that took some of the pain away. He had a harder time getting over my betrayal.”

From the corner of her eye, Marla glimpsed Brianna over by the shoes, trying on pairs of flip-flops. Brie had given the saleswoman a bundle of clothes to reserve for her. They were lying on the counter in a pile as high as the bill Marla was going to get. From her attentive face, Brie was keeping track of their conversation.

The background music stopped, and Gayle strode over to a console and twisted some dials. A lively tune from a steel drum band started up again, making Marla want to tap her feet. A blast of hot air came their way as the front door opened and closed. Two women entered, carrying bulging shopping bags and laughing at a private joke.

“Did Ethan try to locate his biological father?” Dalton rolled his shoulders as though they’d gone stiff. His face wore a patient expression, which she’d seen before when he interviewed people. However long it took, he’d stay until he got answers.

“Not at first,” Gayle said, her gaze following the two women who roamed the store. “Ethan let it go, or at least he didn’t seem interested in his birth father right away.”

“When did Ethan start asking questions about his background?” Marla wanted to get to the point and move on. She shifted feet, tired of standing. It would have helped to be seated during their conversation. A lounge chair by the pool would feel good right about now.

“He met a girl, and suddenly it became important. You see, she wasn’t Jewish. Donald and I are a lot more liberal than my parents in their time, but it mattered to Ethan. He wanted to learn about his mixed blood, so to speak.”

“Go on.” Marla cast a warning look at Dalton not to intervene. The woman was responsive, but she might clam up if they came down on her son.

“I told him Alan’s last known whereabouts, and Ethan traced him from there.”

“Did they ever meet?”

“I don’t know. Ethan went to check Alan out. I think he wanted to see what kind of man he was before revealing himself.”

“Did Alan know you were pregnant when you went to Europe?”

“He had no clue, or he would have followed me. We let him believe I’d jilted him for another man. I think he always regarded Ethan as Donald’s son, that is, if Alan kept track of me at all.”

“So if Ethan exposed his origins, it would have been a shock to Krabber?” Dalton asked.

“I’d say so, but I think Ethan chickened out. He didn’t say much when he came home. Maybe he was disappointed in his birth father, or maybe he just didn’t want to disrupt the status quo. We never talked about it after that time.”

Marla hesitated to ask her next question, but finally said, “Could Ethan have revealed his identity to Alan, and Alan rejected him?”

Gayle shrugged. “As I said, we avoided the topic. Donald loves him so much, and he’s the only son we have. I couldn’t risk alienating him. It was bad enough that Donald kept nagging the boy to make something of himself.”

“Oh?” Marla straightened. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know Donald is an attorney. He’s retired now, but he had a successful firm. He would have liked for Ethan to follow in his footsteps, but the boy hadn’t the head for a college education.”

“What does Ethan do for a living?” Dalton asked.

“The construction industry appealed to him. It used to be better, before the recession, but he’s doing well now.” Her chin lifted with pride. “He runs his own company. He’s over on the east coast. At least he’s still in Florida,” she added.

“How did your husband react to Ethan’s discovery about his father?” Dalton said.

“Oh, Donald was terribly upset, mostly because he was afraid Ethan might turn against him. But Ethan would have no reason to blame the man who’d taken him in and loved him as his own. His sisters accepted the news with barely a blink.”

“So did he resent anyone? Like, did he blame Krabber for turning his back on you all those years ago?”

“How could he fault Alan, who didn’t even know he existed?”

“Alan might have pleaded his case stronger with your parents and gone after you to Europe. Ethan might have not understood the conflicts involved.”

“He could also have blamed my parents for separating me and Alan, but he didn’t.”

“How do you know what your son felt?”

“Why does it matter, detective?” Gayle met his gaze squarely.

Dalton spread his hands. “You don’t know if Ethan actually met with your former fiancé or not, and if so, what might have transpired.”