P'town Murders: A Bradford Fairfax Murder Mystery (17 page)

Brad reached for the sugar, spooning it into the cup in anticipation.

"There's also a rumor that Rosengarten screwed his former business partner out of a lot of money."

"The list is growing," Grace intoned. "Do you know who the former partner is?"

"Not yet. But during the phone call I overheard Rosengarten brag that a number of people wanted to see him dead."

"Looks like he was right."

Brad slipped the cup from the machine and replaced it with a second. He blew on the inch of steaming liquid.

"I'll pass this news along to the folks upstairs," Grace said. "They'll locate whoever worked with Rosengarten in the recent past." She waited. "Did you ever consider the possibility that Ross committed suicide?"

Brad paused, mug to his lips. "Ross was a party boy out for a good time. Parties don't usually include suicide."

"But when the party ends, what comes afterward? You said yourself he died of a drug overdose. Long-term narcotics use might have affected his personality. You knew him as Mr. Smiley, but he could've become very depressed."

"Ross would've told me if he was going to end it. He'd want to say goodbye, though I doubt he'd let me talk him out of it if he'd made up his mind. I've seen him down before, but he always managed to pick himself back up."

"Sometimes even perfectly rational people start to fall..."

"...only to learn there's no bottom," Bradford finished for her. "And they end up at a place like Hayden Rosengarten's, with their hopes shot and their future gone up in smoke. I know."

He took a sip. The acrimonious sweetness filled his mouth.

"Just thought you should consider it," the deep voice intoned. "By the way, we did a check on your usual-suspects list from the night of the dinner party."

"Can't wait for the credits," Brad said.

"The senator's well known as a silent partner in illegal drug ops, even while he's been a very visible and outspoken member of government committees trying to clean them up. Apparently, a little hypocrisy goes a long way toward making a man rich. But it won't do him any good come election time if his opponents happen to find out what we know about him.
Oops!
You didn't hear me say that. Then again, no one on the other side's too squeaky clean either. It'd be like feeding Hannibal to the cannibals."

Brad gave a chuckle.

"Your other two guys showed up as well. Johnny K. is a small-time hood. He's suspected of being a hired killer, but there's no proof."

"What's his background?"

"Mongolian. There's our first possible connection with the New York operation. I gather he's an exotic looking specimen?"

"Oh, yeah," Brad said, thinking of the bodyguard's almond eyes and solid build. "Why are all the bad ones
so-o-o
sexy?"

"Why do you think I hire gay agents to chase them? The other one, Jeremiah Jones, turns up as a horticulturalist."

"Orchids?"

"Yes, how'd you know?"

"Lucky guess."

Grace harrumphed. "I can't find a thing on him, but that simply means he's been quiet till now. That's all I've got so far. Oh—not quite. I did turn up something interesting on Rosengarten's little operation. Apparently, there have been two high-profile suicides in connection with visits to his place in the past year. One was an up-and-coming 'family values' politician and the other a Roman Catholic bishop. Both turned up dead within a month of visiting the guesthouse. Now what could that mean?"

"Blackmail?"

"Sounds like it."

"That's where the closet gets you," Brad said, shaking his head. "Not to mention all that repressive fundamentalism."

"The bishop?"

"No, the politician."

"There's one other thing. Apparently Rosengarten didn't always consider himself gay. There was a wife down around Chattanooga thirty years back. She died about a decade ago."

Brad whistled. "Married long?"

"Long enough to produce a daughter. We haven't found her yet, but we will. Guess what his profession was back then."

"Life insurance salesman?" "Not even close. Itinerant preacher."

"You're kidding!"

"Not a word of a lie."

Well, well—you've come a long way baby, Brad thought. "It'll be interesting to see who turns up for his funeral," he said.

"Speaking of which, it's going to be awfully fast. The service is tomorrow."

"Sounds like someone's trying to get it over with quickly."

"That's what I think. See if you can find out why. Was there anything else on your end?"

Brad was silent. He thought of the gun Zach had discovered in the drawer at Coffee Joe's. Why would a coffeehouse owner need a gun in a peaceful resort town?

"What are you thinking, Red? It's so loud I practically have to hold the phone away from my ear."

"When I was at Ruby's cafe yesterday, the young man I was with said he saw a gun tucked in the back of a drawer."

"That so?"

"I didn't see it myself. In any case, I don't believe Big Ruby killed anybody. She talks tough, but she's a practicing Buddhist and a very caring person."

"Look into it anyway."

The coffeemaker was gurgling through its final moments. The second cup was nearly full.

"I'd like to talk to her again. I have a feeling she knows something that she doesn't realize could lead me to Ross's killer—and possibly Rosengarten's, too."

"Assuming they're two different people. But if you talk to her, Ruby may figure out she's a suspect. We can't have her running away before this is properly looked into."

"If she
did
kill Rosengarten, she'll likely have run already, considering she told me she wanted to see him dead."

"Unless you're next on her list and she thinks she can bump you off before you find out about the murder."

There was a long pause.

"Bradford, are you listening to me?"

He was startled to hear Grace use his real name. She'd never done that before.

"I'm listening."

"Don't do anything stupid! That's an order."

"Don't worry."

"I
do
worry. And by the way..." She paused. "In case you don't have enough on your plate, we're keeping an eye on Hurricane Isabel for you. The little lady seems to be heading right your way. We'll give you a day's warning if we have to evacuate you."

Brad hung up the phone and reached for the full cup of coffee. On top of everything else, now he had to worry about the weather too!

21

Brad took his breakfast out to the veranda. Nothing on the horizon suggested the approach of a hurricane. The sun had been up for only a couple of hours, but already people were making their way along the streets to the ocean.

He watched as they passed, sunk in curiosity—who were they and where had they been at the time of Rosengarten's murder? In such a small town, the killer was almost certain to be within a one-mile radius of where he sat eating scrambled eggs and toasted bagels. It could even be someone passing under his nose at that very moment on the way to the beach. Killer on the dunes.

A flock of seagulls winged overhead. Brad's mind drifted. He'd managed to get only three hours of sleep after returning from the guesthouse. He thought of Ruby. He had a gut feeling about most people, and it seldom proved wrong. He was ready to swear on the
Tibetan Book of the Dead
that Big Ruby was honest and reliable and the last person who'd harm another human being.

There was one sure way to find out.

On his way to town, he thought of Zach. He pictured the boy's angelic features. Where had he spent the night? He could imagine the kid showing up at one of the bars after they'd parted. With his good looks and unusual hair he would easily become the center of attention. Any number of muscle hunks might have tried to pick him up. Maybe he'd gone home with one of them. Or several. He could even be on the beach with his binoculars right now.
Bird
watching indeed!

Then again, why shouldn't he? Brad challenged himself. After all, I was the one who sent him away. He's a sexy kid and at his age he probably loves the attention. Brad paused to wonder if he was jealous. Maybe a little, he admitted. It hurt to realize it, but it was true.

Yesterday, he and Zach had turned heads everywhere they went. An older man at Tea Dance stopped them to say how good they looked together. They were the kind of couple that others envied.

Coffee Joe's was bustling when he arrived. Big Ruby was alone behind the counter humming along to Melissa Etheridge's throaty growl blaring from the speakers. The place was cheery. In fact it almost felt like a celebration. Brad remembered Hayden's scathing comment about lesbian singers. For one paranoid instant he imagined Ruby telling him she'd finally got her hands on Hayden Rosengarten and shot him to death, and now she was celebrating. He needed to see that gun for himself

"Howdy, friend! You're becoming one of my best customers," Ruby called out. "Where's your little sidekick got off to?"

"Zach's probably still sleeping. I think I wore him out."

She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Good for you, cowboy. We gotta give the young 'uns their workout!"

"Ruby, could I talk to you in private?"

"I'm mighty busy," she said, nodding toward the throngs lined up for their joe. "Is it something serious?"

"I'm afraid so."

Ruby wiped her hands on her apron. "You haven't been back to that hellhole and got yourself beat up again, have you?"

Her face showed genuine concern. Brad dreaded having to tell her about Rosengarten.

"No, it's not that. But it's important."

She looked at him sideways. "If you say so. I'm going to have to close up, then. Halle didn't come in to work this morning, either. Another youngster who can't keep up with her elders."

She walked across the room and flipped the OPEN sign to NEARLY OPEN.

"Sorry, folks," she announced to the room. "I've got a bit of an emergency. I'll have to ask you to leave."

She waited till the last grumbling customer had left, then locked the door and turned to him.

"What is it?"

"Hayden Rosengarten was murdered last night. He was shot in the head."

For once Ruby had nothing to say. She stared at Brad in dumb incomprehension. "That's awful!" she managed at last.

"I was hoping you'd say something like that..."

"What do you mean?" Ruby said, confused.

"I'm just glad you didn't react with joy when you..."

"Well, in a way I am glad, but..." Ruby's face took on a look of realization. "Are you sayin' you thought I mighta had something to do with it?"

Brad could feel her bristling.

"Ruby, when I was here yesterday, Zach opened a drawer to get a treat for Bill. He found a gun inside. Could I see the gun?"

She looked hard at him. Her eyes narrowed. "You're a cop, ain't ya?" Ruby's face showed betrayal. "I should throw you off my property, you goddamn turncoat."

"But you won't..."

"No, you're right. There's something about you I still like. And trust..."

"Thank you."

"...even though you think I killed him."

"I don't think that, but I need to see the gun."

Ruby's mouth screwed up into a tight ball, then she shrugged. She walked over and opened the drawer. It contained only a handful of dog treats and a bag of dope. She looked up worriedly.

"This doesn't look good, does it?"

"Any idea where it might've gone?"

Her eyes widened. "Halle closed shop last night. Maybe she took it home with her..." She brought her hand to her mouth. "But, my god! That girl wouldn't hurt a puppy!"

"What about a human being?

Ruby's face was strained with worry. "I don't know what she's done with that gun, but she'd never kill anybody!"

She looked around the cafe desperately, as if she might find either the gun or Halle sitting innocently at one of the counters.

"Who do you think might have wanted to see Hayden dead?" Brad asked. "Particularly somebody who would benefit from it."

Ruby rubbed her head. "That could be lots of people."

"There was a business partner he screwed out of a lot of money, wasn't there?"

"Yes, there sure was," Ruby said forcefully. "He screwed his partner out of half a million dollars."

"Do you know who that person was?"

Ruby looked down. Finally, she sighed and said, "That partner was me, pardner."

Now it was Bradford's turn to be surprised.

"We met in a bar one night and he seemed all right, if a little smooth. He had lots of great ideas. Plus, he had the cash. We went halves on an art gallery that was up for auction. Things went okay for awhile."

She smiled ruefully.

"People like Rosie O'Donnell put their work in the gallery to help raise money for charity. It was mostly terrible stuff—canvases splattered in paint and covered in Cheerios and what not, but people bought 'em 'cause celebrities made them. We raised thousands to give to different causes.... or so I thought."

Ruby's shoulders slumped.

"It turns out he embezzled most of the money. When the charities came looking for the cash, he declared bankruptcy. He bought his guesthouse with the money he stole. If it hadn't been for Halle, I couldn't even have afforded this little place."

Brad watched Ruby's face as she looked around at the cafe she'd worked so hard to create. She turned to see him watching.

"As much as I hated Rosiegarters," she said. "I'd never've killed him for real."

"I believe you, Ruby," he said.

She shook her head. "You're probably the only person who'll believe it after me running off at the mouth about him all over town. There must be a thousand people who heard me say I wanted him dead."

"Apparently someone else felt the same. What do you know about the clients who went to his guesthouse?"

"He made lots of connections while we ran that gallery. Rich people. Famous people. Not just politicians. Some of them probably went to the house. You never know who might get worried if he thought Rosiegarters was trying to out him."