Checked Out (13 page)

“I
t feels good to have someone wait on me for a change,” Mercedes said. The server patted her flat stomach.

“My pleasure,” Ana said, as she set another huge platter in the center of the round oak table. “You’ve only started eating. Here’s more.”

The motherly cook smiled at the hungry people crowded around her table in the back of the Coakley mansion.

We must look like cats begging for dinner, Helen thought. She sat next to a sweaty, sunburned Phil, who was tearing into his lunch like it was his last meal.

John and Charlee, the two full-time gardeners, ate with equal gusto, all the while stealing sideways glances at the pretty Latina servers from Bree’s party, Mercedes and Rosita.

Brown-skinned Rosita was strong and chunky with a flat face, soft brown eyes and gold highlights in her brown hair. Mercedes was slender and short, her long dark hair pulled into a high ponytail. Helen guessed both servers were in their early twenties. Their English was good, but Rosita spoke with a trace of an accent and seemed less worldly than Mercedes.

Ana sat next to Helen and began heaping her own plate with food. “Cooks like people with hearty appetites,” she said. “It’s discouraging when I cook all day and they leave it untouched because it’s fattening.”

Helen was sure “they” were the Coakleys, probably the mother, Ashler (“I’m not Ashley”), and her daughters, Bree and Chloe.

“But your food is low-cal, isn’t it?” Helen said. She was savoring her salmon tacos with chipotle lime yogurt. “What’s healthier than grilled salmon? The spicy yogurt dressing isn’t as fattening as sour cream, and the cabbage salad is good for you.”

“Doesn’t taste healthy,” Phil said, helping himself to more. That was his idea of a compliment.

“This crab and guacamole salad is amazing,” Rosita said.

“What’s wrong with Mexican steak and homemade refried beans?” John asked. Helen thought the gardener was dishing himself a third helping.

“It’s red meat,” Ana said. “And refried beans are fattening. They don’t like either one.” Helen heard the cook’s disgust.

“Their loss,” Charlee said. Sun-browned and stocky with short, dark hair, he and John could have been fraternal twins, except Charlee was maybe ten pounds heavier.

“Charlee, do you and John eat this much food every day and then go back to work?” Helen said.

“We work it off fast in the heat,” Charlee said. “Today I mowed the St. Augustine, and John was Weedwacking. We gave Phil the coolest job—cleaning the koi pond. He got to play in the water.”

“And the muck,” Phil said, reaching for the dish of steak and refried beans.

“Where I come from, we look at food differently,” Ana said. “We work around our eating schedule. In the US, people eat around their work schedule. They hurry, hurry, hurry. They want a quick bite. That can’t be healthy. No time to relax, to talk.”

“About that talking,” Phil said, as he cleaned his plate with a
warm tortilla, “can we ask Rosita and Mercedes about Bree’s party now?”

“Absolutely,” Ana said, and stood up to gather their now empty plates. Helen rose to help her, but Ana said, “Sit! You’re working and I know where everything should go.” Helen sat.

“We need you and Phil to find the missing necklace and stolen golf cart,” Ana said. “We’re all under suspicion until it’s cleared up.”

John and Charlee nodded agreement.

“These people always blame the help,” Mercedes said. “They never think their own kind do anything wrong.”

“Not even when Missy Bree has an unsuitable, uh . . .
novio
?” Rosita looked doubtful, as if searching for the right word.

Novio
, Helen thought, could mean groom or boyfriend in Spanish.

“Boyfriend,” Mercedes said. “From the way Trey and Bree behaved at the party, he should be her husband. They were going at it on a chaise by the pool when I brought them another round of drinks. I wanted to pour it on them. I left the drinks on a nearby table and they never even noticed I was there.”

“Disgusting,” Ana said. “That party was a Roman orgy.” She set a plate of little almond cookies dusted with powdered sugar on the table, and circled the table pouring everyone strong hot coffee.

The rich black coffee tasted of cinnamon and the snow-dusted cookies melted in Helen’s mouth.

“I don’t know why Bree’s parents let her date a young man like that,” Ana said.

“Like what?” Helen asked. “Is he into drugs?”

“Of course,” Ana said, as if Helen had asked, Does he have two arms? “But Mr. Coakley is a big-deal lawyer. He took his cell phone into the kitchen one night—the show kitchen—and I heard him talking to Trey’s father. The mister said he didn’t handle criminal cases but he could refer him to a lawyer who did. Trey was at the police station for a DUI. Trey also tried to borrow
money from Bree. I overheard that, too. She gave him some, and he got angry and said it wasn’t enough.”

“Why did he need money?” Helen asked. “Isn’t his family rich?”

“He’s a gambler,” Ana said. “Bets big money on sports teams. Lost his allowance and then some.”

“Did Trey know you heard him ask Bree for money?”

“I wasn’t listening at doors or anything sneaky,” the cook said. “I’m just a fat, old lady, as far as Trey’s concerned. He said it right in front of me, like he’d talk around a lamp or a table.”

“I understand someone saw Bree and her boyfriend go into the powder room about one thirty the night of the party,” Helen said.

“That was me,” Mercedes said. “Those two don’t mind fornicating in the open, but they do their drugs in private. They went into the bathroom near the downstairs hall and stayed locked in there about ten minutes.”

“Was Bree wearing the ruby necklace when she came out?” Helen asked.

“Yes,” Mercedes said. “She was so out of it, she could hardly walk. He half carried her into the living room and I lost track of her.”

“I was passing around glasses of champagne in the living room,” Rosita said. “Bree had her necklace tangled in her hair. She has long blond hair and she said it hurt and asked Trey to help pull it out of her hair. He was drunk, too, and his hands weren’t working so well. It took him a long time to free the necklace. But he wasn’t helping with the necklace the whole time.”

“What was he doing?” Helen asked.

Rosita blushed. “First he had both hands down the front of her dress and squeezed her . . . you know. Then he unzipped the back. He said he needed to reach the necklace.”

“That boy has some smooth moves,” Phil said.

“I was glad I didn’t have to watch them,” Rosita said. “I was still passing around the champagne. By the time I got back to that
part of the room, Bree’s dress was off, and she wasn’t wearing anything. She’d fallen asleep on top of him. Then she laid—lay—I can never remember which word is correct.”

“Probably both,” Phil said, and Helen glared at him.

“She stayed there on the couch with him,” Rosita said, blushing furiously. “Then a guest took my last glass of champagne and his girlfriend wanted one, too.

“By that time I left to get more glasses of champagne, and when I came back, Bree had passed out or fallen asleep on top of Trey. He looked like he was almost asleep.

“That’s when Chloe staggered over and said to her sister,
You are such a slut.
I don’t think Bree heard her, she was so far gone.”

“Why was Chloe staggering?” Phil asked.

“Because she was drunk,” Rosita said. “I didn’t want to serve her champagne, but her parents said it was their house and she could have a drink to celebrate her sister’s birthday. A drink! She had a bottle, at least. And Chloe wasn’t celebrating. She was pouting. She was there with her boyfriend, Snake Boy, but she hardly talked to him the whole night.”

“Who’s Snake Boy?” Helen asked.

“I don’t know his name, but he goes to college to study snakes. He wants to be a herpes-something.”

“Herpetologist?” Helen guessed.

“That’s the word,” Rosita said.

“He’s short and stocky with a dark beard?” Helen asked. How many budding snake specialists could there be in Fort Lauderdale? “Is his name Ozzie Ormond?”

“That’s him,” Rosita said. “He collects snakes and keeps them at his house.”

“He’s always asking us if we’ve found any snakes,” Charlee said. “He gave me ten dollars for a little baby rattlesnake.”

“A pygmy rattlesnake?” Helen asked.

“Yes,” Charlee said. “It had a little rattle on its tail. I usually
kill them, but I sold it to him. I tried to get twenty for it, but he said he already had one.”

So did Aunt Blair get the rattlesnake from Snake Boy? Helen wondered. Ozzie had slithered into the library carrying a cardboard box that morning while I was talking to Gladys. When I came back from lunch, I found the snake in the book box.

“He bought one I found, too,” John said. “A red rat snake, but he only gave me five dollars because it’s harmless. He pays more for the poison ones.”

“He’s a snake for real,” Ana said. “Chloe was upset that her sister got such a beautiful necklace. She said big jewels were for ‘tacky old ladies.’ Snake Boy tried to put his arm around her and kiss her, but she shook him off and sat in a corner all night, staring at her sister. She couldn’t take her eyes off that necklace.

“Snake Boy couldn’t, either—or maybe he was drooling over Bree. He started hitting on her, and Trey, Bree’s boyfriend, finally said,
Cool it. Bree’s mine
.”

“Was he mad?” Helen asked.

“More like playful mad,” she said. “But Bree was really mad. She said,
I’m not your property
, and went off with Snake Boy. I don’t know what they did or where they went, but when she came back later, she and Trey were all lovey-dovey.”

“So Chloe didn’t party much at Bree’s birthday bash?” Helen asked.

“She sulked all night,” Ana said. “That girl is so jealous. She talks in riddles and plays stupid games. When I first came here, I asked what she wanted for breakfast and she said,
Boneless chicken
.

“I thought she was on some kind of diet, so I grilled her a boneless chicken breast and put some nice fresh fruit on the plate so it didn’t look so plain. She laughed at me and called me a stupid beaner. She said boneless chicken was a hardboiled egg. Why didn’t she just say so?”

“She’s rude,” Helen said. “Chloe and Snake Boy are running some kind of scam. I think she—or he—stole the necklace.”

“Like that movie,
The Bling Ring
, where a bunch of rich kids broke into celebrities’ houses, like Paris Hilton’s and Orlando Bloom’s, and stole designer clothes and jewelry,” Mercedes said.

“Exactly,” Helen said. “Did you and Rosita see anything else? Did Trey or Snake Boy slip the necklace into their shirt pocket?”

“I didn’t see anyone take it,” Mercedes said.

“Me, either,” Rosita said. “When I came back, people were grabbing for the champagne and I was trying not to spill it.

“Next time I looked, Bree and Trey were snoring on the couch together.”

“This is nothing like the story Bree told me,” Phil said.

“I’m not making it up!” Rosita said, her face flushed with anger.

“No, I think she may have misremembered,” Phil said. “Did you see any other guests near Bree when she was sleeping on the couch?”

“No,” Rosita said. “Just her boyfriend, Trey, and her sister, Chloe. But I wasn’t there the whole time.”

“When did Bree notice her necklace was missing?”

“Not until the next afternoon,” Ana said. “I don’t know when Trey left the party, but Bree spent the night sleeping on the couch. At least, she was still there when I went back to my room at four thirty in the morning. Chloe had gone up to her room about four o’clock. I covered Bree with a blanket. The last guests were gone by then.”

“Where were her parents?” Helen asked.

“They stayed at the Riverside Hotel downtown so the party could be fun,” Ana said. “The mister went to work from there and the missus came home about eleven the next morning. The cleaning crew had been working since six and they were just finishing.”

“We’re still fixing the damage to the grass and plants,” Charlee said. “The flower beds were trampled.”

“From being used as beds,” John said.

“When Missus got home, Bree was in the breakfast nook nursing a hangover,” Ana said. “She didn’t really wake up until about one o’clock. That’s when she noticed her necklace was gone. We spent the rest of the day tearing the house apart looking for it. Oh, the tears! The drama!”

“Where was Chloe?” Helen asked.

“She said she didn’t care. If Bree was stupid enough to lose her necklace, it was her fault. She left.

“Then Missus wanted to use the golf cart to go play bridge and we couldn’t find that, either. John and Charlee searched the grounds while we searched near the house. When the mister came home at seven, the family finally concluded both were stolen.”

“And the Coakleys didn’t call the police,” Phil said.

“Instead they hired you,” Ana said. “And suspect us.”

“B
ree’s ruby-and-diamond pendant could have been stolen by anyone at her party,” Helen said.

She and Phil were standing by Helen’s car in the Coakley mansion driveway after Ana’s sumptuous lunch. Phil’s Jeep was banished to the back of the house with the junkers driven by the staff.

“It could have,” Phil said, “but we know for sure that her boyfriend, Trey, definitely had access to the necklace. If he has major gambling debts, he needs money in a hurry.”

“Then there’s Bree’s jealous little sister, Chloe, and her boyfriend, Ozzie,” Helen said. “Either one could have stolen it.”

“Or both,” Phil said. “From what you said, those two work as a team. Maybe they really are running a bling ring and boosting jewelry at parties.”

“Did you say ‘boost,’ shamus?” Helen said. Phil got a little carried away with his vintage PI slang.

“Okay, steal,” he said. “Chloe bragged that she has a lot of money, and it’s not from her allowance. She says she and Snake Boy work together.”

“Plus Snake Boy wants money to paint his white Beemer black,” Helen said.

“And he has all those snakes to feed,” Phil said. “I say we start checking my list of Lauderdale pawnshops.”

Helen groaned. “There has to be a pawnshop on every major road.”

“Sometimes two,” Phil said. “We have about two hundred and eighty in Lauderdale alone.”

“We’ll be looking all year,” Helen said.

“You forgot. I updated my list of the dicey ones known to accept stolen goods. There are about forty. We can each take twenty.” He handed Helen a copy of a list.

“I’ll take the first twenty,” she said. “They’re clustered fairly close together. I can start now.”

“Me, too,” Phil said.

“You’re not working in the yard this afternoon?” Helen asked.

“I’ve learned all I can working with Charlee and John. The gardeners will happily spray for mealy bugs and spider mites and trim coconuts, if I get their coconuts out of this vise.”

“Are they that worried?” Helen asked.

“Amis Coakley told me to search their pickup—twice—and follow them home after work. John and Charlee live down the street from each other and travel together to this job. Every night, they’ve either gone straight home, or stopped for beer on Dixie Highway or at a Mexican grocery. They never go near pawnshops. They don’t throw money around, as if they made a big score.

“Charlee and John told me they have an offer for a higher-paying job in Boca, but they’re afraid Amis may give them a bad reference if they take it.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” Helen said. “We know what Trey and the missing necklace look like. You’ve got the party photo of Trey and Bree on your iPhone. The one where she’s wearing her birthday necklace.”

“And her boyfriend,” Phil said. “He’s draped around her like a cape. Tell me, do women find him attractive?”

“Bree does,” Helen said. “I don’t. He’s got a hot body, gym muscles and thick blond hair, but I don’t like his sneery pout. He smacks of entitlement, and I want to smack that look off his overprivileged face.”

“But how do you really feel?” Phil said, and grinned at her. “I’ll see you back at the Coronado in time for the sunset salute. Ana’s letting me clean up in her rooms and I brought a fresh shirt and pants.”

Helen prepared for her role inside the Igloo. She put on heavier makeup, unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse, then tied the tails around her midriff. She finger-combed her dark hair so she looked like she’d just gotten out of bed.

The first pawnshop on Dixie Highway was the prototype for the others. Inside, the shop bristled with security cameras. Helen saw two men with bodies like melting ice cream, one with a receding hairline and the other with a ratty gray ponytail, behind a scarred Plexiglas shield with a pass-through slot.

Their clientele must be as dodgy as their goods, Helen thought.

The long, dingy shop’s shelves were piled with cameras, construction tools, saxophones and electric guitars. The dark carpet needed vacuuming and the windows were dirty. Glass display counters were crammed with watches and iPads. Expensive rolling luggage was lined up on the floor, the suitcases two and three deep.

I guess if your life’s going downhill, you don’t need luggage, Helen thought.

After the two men sized up Helen, Ponytail lumbered out and gave Helen a pre-owned smile straight off a used car lot.

“My boyfriend said I can treat myself to nice jewelry,” she said, smiling stupidly and hating the ditzy pretext she was using. “Really nice. And I get to pick it out all by myself. I want a necklace. A dangly kind.”

“You mean a pendant?” Ponytail asked.

“Yeah. One of those,” Helen said.

Ponytail rubbed his plump hands together. “We have all kinds. Gold, platinum, silver, diamonds . . .”

“Diamonds,” Helen said. “And a ruby. A great big ruby.”

Ponytail rapped on the Plexiglas, and his partner rattled around in the back room, then slid a velvet box through the pass-through.

“We have this beautiful ruby pendant,” Ponytail said, opening the velvet box with a flourish.

Helen shook her head. “No,” she said. “I want something bigger. I’m sorry.”

Really sorry, she thought. Because I’ll have to go through this charade at another pawnshop. Bree’s daddy had shelled out twenty thousand bucks for her pendant necklace with two fancy-cut rubies weighing more than three carats, surrounded by marquis-cut diamonds. That pawnshop pendant is probably only worth two or three thousand.

Variations on this scene were repeated six more times before Helen pointed the Igloo toward the Coronado Tropic Apartments. She had just enough time to change before the sunset salute.

Phil whistled when Helen walked into her apartment. “Nice outfit,” he said. “But a little too much makeup.”

“I wanted to look like my sugar daddy was buying me an expensive ruby necklace,” she said.

“You look expensive to me,” he said, pulling her down to him on the couch. “We haven’t done much of this lately.” He unbuttoned the rest of her blouse. They made quick, urgent love on the couch, and then had a slower session in the bedroom.

“I needed that,” Helen said. She kissed his red nose, now flaky and peeling. “I’m glad you’re not doing yard work anymore.”

“So am I,” Phil said. “But I did get a cool hat. I gather you didn’t have any luck at the pawnshops.”

“Nope. I went to seven this afternoon. I’ll stop by a few more tomorrow after I spend some time at the library.”

“We should wander over to the sunset salute,” Phil said.

“You feed the cat while I shower,” Helen said.

Phil brought a six-pack of cold Heineken and Helen carried a bottle of wine out to the evening gathering. Margery, Markos and Peggy were already out by the pool. Markos’s white T-shirt was stretched to the limit on his muscular chest. Margery wore gauzy purple accessorized with cigarette smoke. Peggy looked chic in a little black dress and heels. Her shoulder seemed bare without her parrot, Pete.

“Save your wine for next time, Helen,” Peggy said. “I brought merlot and a cheese platter tonight. We’re celebrating my thousand-dollar lottery win. I’ve figured out how to spend it.”

“Since Peggy brought wine, I didn’t make mojitos,” Markos said. “But I did bring more healthy snacks. This is vegetable satay made with broccoli and cauliflower.” The skewers were artfully arranged sculptures.

Helen watched Phil struggle not to show his disgust.

“And I have roasted beet crostini,” Markos said.

“Beef and beer are an unbeatable combination,” Phil said, raising his bottle.

“Not beef,” Markos said. “
Beet.
I use the entire beet plant—the root, stems and greens. The beet roots are roasted and pureed with goat cheese, then topped with the sautéed greens and stems.”

Helen had to turn away so Markos wouldn’t see her grin. Margery winked at her behind a veil of cigarette smoke.

“Sounds healthy,” Phil said. Helen knew that was not a compliment.

Markos did not. “And it’s low-cal,” he said, with a happy smile.

“Cheers!” Phil said, and toasted Markos with his beer. Phil cut himself a healthy slab of Peggy’s aged cheddar and politely took a beet crostini. Helen knew it would end up abandoned on his plate.

“Where’s Pete?” she asked Peggy.

“Inside. Daniel’s picking me up for dinner in a few minutes.”

“The romance is still going strong?” Helen said.

“Oh, yes,” Peggy said, eyes shining. “That’s why I decided to spend my lottery money on a mate for Pete and a new cage for the happy couple. Pete shouldn’t be alone, either.”

“Money can buy love,” Helen said.

The back gate creaked, and brown-haired Daniel hurried up the sidewalk toward them, his eyes on Peggy. The lawyer’s well-tailored suit made his thick body seem solid and slimmer.
Solid
was the right word for him, Helen thought. In the best sense of the word.

Daniel gave Peggy a kiss and declined a drink. The lovebirds were anxious to be on their way. “I’ll put away the cheese and wine, Peggy,” Helen said. “You two run along.”

After the couple left, Markos said, “Have you found the missing ruby necklace yet?”

“We’re checking pawnshops now,” Phil said. “Our client didn’t report the necklace stolen, so that makes our job harder.”

“Why didn’t they call the police?” Markos asked. “Are they illegal?”

“Nothing like that,” Phil said. “They’re the kind of people who don’t want the cops in their enchanted circle. Especially if there’s a chance someone in that circle is a thief.”

“They’d rather lose an expensive necklace?” he said.

“They can afford it,” Phil said.

“I want to ask you about stolen goods,” Markos said. “My restaurant, Fresh and Cool, is in Sweet Grass Plaza, the little shopping center on Federal Highway.”

“I know it,” Phil said. “One-story tan stucco buildings. Striped awnings. Upscale businesses.”

“Right. My restaurant is on one end. I like to stop for a drink at Light Up the Night, at the other end.”

“The martini and cigar bar?” Helen said.

“That’s the one,” Markos said. “I think people are selling stolen goods in there. Two guys show up about eleven o’clock one or two nights a week. One night last week they were selling watches. Another night, it was speakers. It’s like a bazaar between eleven and midnight.”

“If you see them selling jewelry,” Phil said, “especially a rather large ruby-and-diamond pendant, give us a call.” Helen, Phil and Markos swapped cell phone numbers.

“What do the thieves look like?” Helen asked.

“Mid-twenties,” Markos said. “One has dark hair and a beard. The other is blond. They dress to blend in with the upscale crowd. I’ll keep an eye out for them. I’m working nights the rest of the week.”

“There’s a reward for you if we catch them selling the pendant,” Phil said.

“I would have told you anyway,” Markos said. “But I won’t turn down money.”

Margery had been quietly sipping wine and smoking while she listened to the conversation. “It’s eight thirty,” she said. “I’m going to turn in.”

Helen, Phil and Markos helped Margery clear away the party debris. Markos’s appetizers were gone, thanks to Helen and Margery, and Phil had eaten most of Peggy’s cheese plate.

“You might as well take those last two slices, Phil,” Margery said. “Unless Markos wants them.”

“No, thanks,” Markos said. “Night, all.”

After Markos was in his apartment, Margery said to Helen, “Your ghost was that young woman killed in the hit-and-run on Broward, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” Helen said. “You predicted it, too. I talked with the detective in charge. He didn’t see any connection between Charlotte’s murder and the watercolor. Now it’s my job to find her killer. The library hired me.”

“That’s good,” Margery said.

Was it? Helen thought. Charlotte planned to help herself to half my fee, and I resented her. Instead, she was murdered and I got to keep all the money. Plus, I got credit for finding the million-dollar watercolor she discovered, even though I only opened about forty boxes. Now I’m making more money investigating her murder.

I feel like a fraud. A guilty fraud.