Corpse Suzette (20 page)

“If you were close to your
sister and he came between you—”

“I was, and he did. I’ll
never forgive him for that. Suzette is the only family I have left.”

“I realize this is probably
a painful topic, but may I ask how it happened? Your estrangement, that is.”

Clare handed Savannah the
photograph. It was of the two sisters, arms around each other’s shoulders,
goofy, happy smiles on their faces. Behind them was a large neon sign that
read, “Diamond Bill’s Casino.”

“That was us,” Clare said,
“my sister and I on our last outing. Sergio took Suzette, Jeremy, Myrna, and me
out on his cabin cruiser for the day. We went to Santa Tesla Island, like we
often did, to hang out in the casinos there, rent some mopeds and bop around
the island, have a nice dinner, and then come home.”

“Casinos?”

“Yes, there are a couple of
nice ones there and it’s a lot closer than Vegas. Plus Suzette loves the
lighthouse. We always had to rent bikes and ride out to the lighthouse. She’s a
nut about lighthouses.”

“Some people are,” Savannah
said. “And then...?”

“And then we were on our
way back home. Jeremy was at the helm. Myrna and Suzette were knocking back
margaritas. So was I, to tell the truth. And I had one... or maybe even two...
too many. I got a little sick and went below to wash my face and lie down out
of the sun.”

Clare paused, took a deep
breath, and continued, “And that’s when Sergio came down, said he was checking
on me to make sure his shipmates were all okay.”

Savannah had a feeling what
was coming, but she waited quietly for Clare to tell her story.

“I was lying on one of the
berths, still wearing my bathing suit, a cold, wet washcloth over my eyes. And
the next thing I know, he’s sitting on the bed beside me, leaning over me, his
hands...” She gulped, and Savannah could see she was trembling.

“He started touching me
inappropriately,” Clare said. “I couldn’t believe that he would do that. Not
that he was above it. I knew he was a jerk where women were concerned. I always
figured he fooled around on Suzette. But to try it with
me
! He should
have known I’d never go for it. And with her right there on the boat with us! I
still can’t believe he was that stupid.”

“Oh, it’s pretty amazing
how stupid men can be when their brains get deprived of oxygen. Did he stop
when you told him to?”

“I did more than tell him,”
she said proudly. “I hit him. I slugged him in the face and bloodied his nose.”

Savannah laughed. “My kind
of girl. How did he explain that to the others?”

“I got out of there, joined
the girls on deck and didn’t say anything... at least, not then. He washed up
and came up later, after he got the bleeding stopped. Needless to say, he
didn’t mention it either.”

Clare took the picture back
from Savannah and looked at it for a long time, running her fingertip over it,
as though caressing her sister’s face. “I agonized over telling her for three
days after that,” she said. “Finally, I decided that I had to. These days, a
promiscuous partner can cost you your life. And I figured if she had to find
out, it would be better if it came from me. So, I dropped by here unexpectedly
that Saturday morning, and I told her what he’d done.”

“How did she take it?”

“She told me that he had
already told her that I had come on to him, thrown myself at him.”

“And she believed him?”

“Yes, she did.” Clare began
to cry. She reached into her pocket and brought out a lacy-edged handkerchief.
“At least, at that moment she did. She threw me out, said she never wanted to
see me again. I called her several times after that, left messages on her
machine, but she never returned my calls.”

The two women sat quietly
for a moment, as Savannah allowed Clare a moment to compose herself.

Finally, Savannah said,
“This was a year ago, you say?”

She nodded.

“Are you aware that she
did
break up with him, toss him out on his ear, just about that time?”

“I heard that they had
split. I didn’t know when. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because if Suzette
threw him out ten times, she would take him back eleven. He was some kind of
sick addiction for her. I’ll never understand why.”

“Me either,” Savannah said.
She thought of her own sister, Marietta, in Georgia, who changed men constantly
and just as frequently made terrible choices. “There’s just no accounting for
taste or judgment.”

“And Suzette’s smart, too.
Not just in the obvious way, as a doctor with a thriving practice. She’s wise
and kind. She can give you the best advice in the world when it comes to your
own problems. She’s savvy in every area of her life, except with men.”

“That’s a big ‘except.’”

“Isn’t it though?” She
shook her head in disgust. “I got over that ridiculous ‘bad-boy appeal’
business when I was in high school. Some women never learn.”

Savannah thought of Dirk,
and how—for all of his foibles—he was reliable, sensible, and loyal. Long ago,
Savannah had come to realize just how sexy “responsible” could be.

“You’re absolutely right,”
she replied. “‘Predictable’ is highly underrated in a man.”

“And that isn’t all,” Clare
said. “That isn’t the only reason I hated Sergio or Leonard Roy, or whatever
his name was. He hit my sister. She denied it, but I know he did. I saw her
with more than one black eye and other bruises on her face, not to mention the
fingertip bruises on her upper arms where he’d grabbed her. I know he abused
her. And she tolerated that, too. She was way too smart for that! In her career
she’s repaired several women’s faces, pro bono, after their husbands messed
them up. She knows how dangerous domestic violence can be, and yet she kept
going back to him. I’ll just never, ever understand her.”

Savannah reached for one of
the photo albums and began to flip through the pages, getting to know Suzette
Du Bois better with each page. Her childhood, her adolescence. And on each
page, memories shared with her sister.

“Where do you think she
is?” Savannah asked softly, hating the fact that she had to hurt this graceful
woman even more.

But Clare’s answer
surprised her. “Oh, who knows? She’s hiding out somewhere, I’m sure. She’ll
come back when she’s good and ready.”

Savannah didn’t want to
alarm the woman or even rob her of what might be a self-protecting state of
denial. But she needed to get to the truth. “If she’s just hiding out, wouldn’t
she have come to Sergio’s funeral today?”

“If she knew about it.
Usually she heads for the hills, someplace she can commune with nature, far
away from phones and newspapers and televisions.”

“Usually? She’s done this
before?”

“Oh, many times. When she
was a teenager, she drove our mom crazy, running away any time she didn’t get
her way or didn’t like what was going on around her. She’d just walk out, then
come back a few days later, sunburned from lying on the beach somewhere, and
relaxed, after making the rest of us nuts worrying ourselves sick about her.
She spent most of her high school years grounded... at least theoretically.
Enforcing it was a bit difficult. She could always climb out her bedroom window
and shinny down Mom’s garden lattice.”

“She sounds like a corker.”

“Oh, you don’t know the
half of it.”

“So, do you think she’s
lying on a beach somewhere, soaking up some sun?”

“I’m sure she is.”

“But her new spa, Emerge,
was scheduled to open. The promotion was at its peak—press ready and public
interest high.” Clare shrugged. “That’s my sister for you. When things are the
busiest, the stakes the highest, that’s when she freaks out and splits.”

Savannah wasn’t going to
sit and argue with a woman who knew Suzette Du Bois probably better than anyone
on earth. And if Glare wasn’t worried, maybe they had no reason to be either.

Perhaps it was just a weird
coincidence that one partner in a business went missing and then another got
himself murdered.

But, of course, Savannah
didn’t believe that for a moment.

“I have two more things to
ask you, Clare,” she said. “And please don’t take offense. Investigators have
to ask these types of questions.”

Clare looked wary, but she
said, “Okay. What is it?”

“You’ve mentioned about
half a dozen reasons just now why you would hate Sergio D’Alessandro. And I
wouldn’t blame you one bit if you did... but did you kill the guy yourself?”

“No. But I’d like to thank
the person who did when you find them.”

“Okay. And the second thing
is, do you believe your sister might have staged her own disappearance and
murdered him herself?”

Clare said nothing for a
long, long time as she stared down at the picture in her hand. Then she raised
her eyes to Savannah’s and said with calm conviction, “She may have. If she had
decided to take him back, to try to trust him one more time, and then she found
him with another woman, she might have killed him. Suzette’s a proud woman. She
doesn’t take betrayal lightly. Look at what she did to me, and she only
suspected that I had betrayed her. I’d like to think she’d be even harder on
him.”

Later, after Savannah had
done what she had come for, she left the house hoping that Clare was right.

She liked Clare and hoped
that her sister truly was somewhere, sunning herself after murdering a guy who,
as some Southerners might phrase it, “needed killin’.”

Of course, she still
intended to find Suzette Du Bois, and if that was indeed the case, bring her to
justice. You couldn’t just go around murdering everybody who needed killin’
just because you had a mind to.

But for Clare Du Bois’s
sake, she sincerely hoped her sister was still in the land of the living.

And maybe she was.

Savannah had searched high
and low, and there hadn’t been a trace of a black teddy bear named “Baby”
anywhere in that house, plaid vest or otherwise.

Chapter

B
y the time Savannah had
finished at Suzette Du Bois’s house and returned home, it was late in the
evening. She wasn’t expecting to see Tammy’s car in the driveway when she
pulled up. Tammy was an early to bed, early to rise sort of girl. She had to
be. Being Miss Perky took a lot of energy and recuperation time.

But Savannah was a little
surprised to see Dirk’s Buick there. Surprised, but pleased.

She had figured he would
sober up after a couple of hours and be on his way. But she was happy he
hadn’t. He could use all the TLC his stubborn, male pride would allow him to
absorb.

Of course, that meant that
sleeping arrangements might be a bit strained. With him in her bed and Abigail
occupying the guest room, it had suddenly become a little crowded at Savannah’s
Bed-and-Breakfast Hostelry.

When she walked through the
front door, she heard a stirring in the living room and found Abigail stretched
out on her sofa, a cat under each arm, a pillow under her head, a blanket
pulled up to her waist.

“Hi,” Savannah said. “How
nice of you to wait up for me.”

“No problem,” she said,
scratching under Diamante’s chin. “Tammy was tired and wanted to go home, but
she asked me to stay up and keep checking Dirk until you got back.”

“Thanks a lot. How is he?”

“Same as when you left. He
hasn’t moved an inch. Just lying there like a rock.”

“Good. That’s what he
needs. How’s his fever?”

“Tammy checked him before
she left, about forty-five minutes ago, and it was still down.”

“That’s great. Boy, John’s
toddies must really be potent! I’ll have to ask him to make one of those for me
sometime, whether I’m sick or not.”

“It did look and smell
really good, with the oranges and spices.” Savannah sank into her easy chair
and kicked off her loafers. “What are you doing there on the sofa? You should
be in bed, too, by now.”

“I am. This is my bed for
tonight. I took the sheets off, washed them, and put them back on, so they’re
nice and fresh for you and—”

“No. You’re my guest. You
go sleep in the guest room like you’re supposed to.”

“And let you sleep on the
sofa? No way. Unless, of course, you’re sleeping with Dirk.”

“Banish the thought.”

Abby snickered. “That’s
what I figured. So, here I am, and you’re in the guest room and that’s the end
of
that
conversation.” Savannah nodded in acquiescence. “As you say,
Lady Abigail.” She noticed that instead of a man’s sweatshirt and
sweatpants—Abigail’s former sleep attire—she was wearing a lovely white cotton
nightgown with tiny pink roses embroidered on the bodice and lace trimming the
sleeve edges.

“What a pretty nightgown,”
she commented. “It looks Victorian.”

“I bought it yesterday when
the Emerge staff took me shopping. Jeremy says I should allow the feminine side
of my nature to have expression as well as all other sides. I saw this gown and
loved it, although, without his encouragement, I never would have allowed
myself to wear anything like this.”

“It’s most becoming. A good
change from the sweatpants.”

“The kitties like it,” Abby
said, hugging the cats to her chest. Savannah half expected them to jump up and
run away from her. Like her, they couldn’t stand any form of restraint. She
blamed it on having handcuffed so many people over the years and maybe feeling
a bit guilty about some of them. Not a lot. Just a few.

But the cats stayed put.
And Cleo even reached up and gave Abby a slurp with a wet, kitty sandpaper
tongue on the left ear.

“They like
you,
is
more like it,” Savannah said. “What did you do? Feed them tuna from a can?”

“Half and half, from the
fridge.”

“Oh, no wonder.”

“And I gave Cleo her
methimazole tonight. I figured you’d be too tired to mess with it.”

“You gave Cleo a pill...
and you lived to tell about it? Boy, now I
am
impressed! Any bleeding
involved?”

“Nope. I’m unscathed.” She
held up both hands, turning them this way and that for inspection.

Savannah smiled and wasn’t
all that shocked when Abigail returned it. Abby grew on you. Once you got past
that extremely thick crust, there was a sweet woman underneath. Way underneath.

“If you’re sure I can’t
talk you into trading places,” Savannah said, “I think I’ll go check on Dirk
and then hit the sack myself.”

“I’m sure. Good night.”

Savannah stood, kissed the
tip of her forefinger, then reached down and touched it to Abby’s forehead.
“Sleep tight, kiddo,” she said.

“You, too.”

Savannah started up the
stairs and for the first time since she could ever remember, the cats didn’t
follow her.

They say kids and animals
can tell a good person from a bad one,
she thought.
I guess Miss Abby’s a
goodie after all.

She crept into her own
bedroom and saw that, just as Abby had said, Dirk hadn’t moved a hair. He was
still under her silk sheet and satin comforter, only his head sticking out,
snoring like a buzz saw.

Softly she pressed her hand
to his forehead. It was cool and dry. A good sign.

She repeated the kiss to
her fingertip and placed it on his cheek. To her surprise, he turned his face
against her hand and for a moment pressed his lips into her palm.

“Thanks, Van,” he
whispered.

“You’re welcome, darlin’,”
she replied. “Go back to sleep. Feel better.”

He nodded and ten seconds
later resumed his snoring.

Cowboy Dirk Coulter was a
tough-hided buzzard. He’d survive that gunshot/rattlesnake bite/Indian arrow
attack/buffalo stampede, after all.

Yeap, it took a whole lot
more than that to kill an old gunslinger/lawman like Coulter.

The next morning, Savannah
was enjoying some of her favorite activities, sitting in her easy chair,
sipping a cup of coffee and nibbling a pastry, watching while Tammy worked away
at the desk in the corner and Abigail snoozed, head covered with her pillow, on
the sofa.

Life just didn’t get much
better than that.

If there was anything more
pleasant than enjoying one of the seven deadly sins at a time, it was doubling
up. And Savannah had found that Gluttony and Sloth went particularly well
together... sort of like a cinnamon pecan Danish and Sumatra dark roast.

And just when she thought
things couldn’t get any better, Dirk came downstairs. He practically bounced
downstairs. And Savannah hadn’t seen Dirk bounce since 1993, when they had
busted the guy who had broken into his house trailer and stolen his eight-track
tape player and his Johnny Cash collection. “Wow,” she said, “look at you!
You’re pert nigh perky!”

His hair was standing on
end and his eyes a bit puffy, but he had a definite spring to his step and a
smile on his face. “I feel great!” he said. “That thing John whipped up for me
last night did the trick! I swear, it really is the cure for the common cold.”
'Tammy glanced up from her work, looked him up and down, and said, “I think we
should make you one of those hot toddy thingies every night, Dirko. You look
almost human.”

“Personally,” Savannah
said, “I think it was the solid night’s sleep that snatched you from the jaws
of the Grim Reaper.”

“Jaws? Grim Reaper?” Tammy
made a face. “I think the Grim Reaper uses a scythe to—”

“Oh, don’t go waxing
literary on me this early in the morning,” Savannah told her. “I can’t stand
two perky people when I first get up. One of you has to go, or at least turn
down the sunshine of your smile.”

“Well, it isn’t going to be
me,” Tammy replied. “I think I’m on to something here.”

“I’m happy for you,”
Savannah told her. “An hour from now I might even be happy for us all, if what
you’ve got is really good. But for now, I’m still waking up and have no
measurable brainwave activity. Besides, you’re gonna wake up Abby, so keep it
down.”

“Well,
I’m
wide
awake,” Dirk said, strutting across the room to stand behind Tammy’s chair.
“Ignore the grumpy woman in the corner and show me what you’ve got, kiddo.”

“Oh, Lord, I can’t stand
it,” Savannah groaned, biting into the Danish. “Sugar, caffeine, do your
stuff.”

“I’ve been playing with
this software that Ryan and John gave me, and I’ve found all sorts of
skullduggery.”

Skullduggery? Savannah
shook her head. That girl was going to have to go off Nancy Drew books, cold
turkey.

“Like what?” Dirk asked.

“Like major embezzlement...
from the Mystic Twilight spa for starters.”

“Really?” Dirk leaned over
her shoulder. “How much and when?”

“Beginning about a year
ago.”

Savannah couldn’t help
responding. “A year ago is when Suzette threw him out of her house.”

“Well, he got her back,
big-time,” Tammy said. “He started siphoning off Mystic Twilight’s assets. And
he was really good at it, too. He got a lot and he did it in ways that would
have made it hard to tell he was doing it.”

“How much is a lot?” Dirk
asked.

“A mil and a half,”
Savannah offered.

“More,” Tammy said.

“More?” Savannah raised one
eyebrow. “How much more?”

“From what I can see here,
about three million more.” Savannah and Dirk both gasped.

Even Abigail stirred
briefly, readjusting the pillow over her head.

“Do you mean he pulled four
and a half million dollars out of that business in only a year?” Savannah said.
“Wow, he was good!”

“But he got caught.” Tammy
typed away and produced another file on the screen. “The person who installed
the keystroke spyware pulled up his files... recently.”

“Recently?” Dirk asked.
“How recently?”

Tammy grinned up at him.
“Would you believe a week before he died?”

Dirk grunted. “I would have
killed the guy if I found out he stole four and a half million from me.”

“You,” Savannah added,
“would have gladly sent Billy Bob Mason to the gas chamber for stealing your eight
track, so we can’t go by you. But just for the record, I would have killed him
for that, too.”

“I’ll bet you that Suzette
is still alive and kicking somewhere,” Tammy said. “And she installed this
spyware to see if he was chasing other women, and lo and behold, she found out
he was ripping off the business.”

“I’ll bet you’re right,”
Dirk said. “She found out what he’d done, took the money back somehow and
transferred it to an anonymous bank account in Switzerland or the Caribbean,
then she grabbed her dog and hid out... waited a couple of days and knocked him
off, and then left to go join her money in Europe or the Cayman Islands.”

“But if she did do that,”
Savannah said, “how are we ever going to find her? You haven’t had much luck
finding an anonymous bank online with that sort of an account number, right,
Tam?”

“No, not yet. But there are
so many. I haven’t even worked through all the ones in the Caribbean.”

Suddenly, Savannah stood
up, nearly spilling her coffee on one of the cats. “Wait a minute,” she said,
flashing back to her conversation with Clare. “Do you know that they have
casinos on Santa Tesla Island?”

Dirk and Tammy both stared
at her blankly.

“So?” Dirk said. “We’re
talking banking here, not gambling.”

“I know. But where do they
have casinos?” she said.

“Las Vegas, Native American
reservations?” Tammy said.

“And cruise ships!”
Savannah was practically dancing in her fuzzy penguin house slippers. “Because
the ships go out into international waters where it isn’t subject to the laws
of the U.S. or other countries.... This is great!”

“What the hell are you
talking about?” Dirk said.

“Gambling. Anonymous
banking. Same sort of thing. They have them outside the legal boundaries of
countries that might otherwise regulate them. And if there are casinos on Santa
Tesla Island—which is plenty far enough away from the California shore to be in
international waters—there may be anonymous banks, too.”

She ran over to Tammy’s
desk. “And last night Suzette’s sister told me that Suzette likes to go there,
to gamble, run around the island and look at the lighthouse. Find out, quick,
if there are any anonymous banks on Santa Tesla Island.”

Tammy did a quick search.
The results popped up on the computer screen.

She beamed up at Savannah.
“Bingo! There are six of them. Six!”

Dirk was already heading
for the door. “Find the phone numbers of those banks,” he said, “and fax me a
list of them over to my desk at the station house.”