The Last Resort (A Kate Jasper Mystery) (12 page)

Jack rolled his eyes and said, “Fuckin’ right, I have.” Then he screwed up his face in a fair imitation of Chief Orlandi’s contorted rage, and bellowed, “Drugs, Mr. Ireland. This murder has drugs written all over it. And you are a drug-user, aren’t you?”

“Oh, no! Not me, Mr. Policeman! Not little ole me!” Nikki contributed in a falsetto, clutching her hands over her heart. I giggled. Jack guffawed.

Then Nikki stretched her lovely dark face into Orlandi’s crocodile grin. It was too good an imitation. I began sweating all over again. She said in a deep bass, “Miss Sorenson was beautiful, wasn’t she, Miss Martin? Did you think she was more beautiful than you?” She contorted her face further, into anger, and jutted it forward. “Is that why you killed her?”

“Whooee!” said Jack, clapping. “You’ve got him! Is she a dynamite actress or what?”

I clapped too. Nikki clutched invisible skirts and curtsied.

“For my next performance—” she began.

“Your next performance may be sooner than you think,” came Chief Orlandi’s unamused voice from the top of the stairs.

“Busted!” whispered Jack.

CHIEF ORLANDI LOOMED above us on the porch at the top of the stairs. His face was unreadable in the bright sunlight. No grin. No rage. Nothing at all in those Santa-blue eyes. Officer Dempster stood behind him, hands clasped behind his back, cantaloupe belly quivering. His face was easier to read. His eyes were watering with the effort not to laugh. At least Officer Dempster appreciated Nikki’s imitation of his chief.

Meanwhile, Nikki, Jack and I huddled together, still as stone, unified by guilt. Three children caught by the principal while smoking in the schoolyard. Worse. Three children caught by Ayatollah Khomeini while reading
The Satanic Verses
.

After an eternity of staring, Chief Orlandi inched his way down the stairs, watching us the entire time. He stood a few grueling minutes longer at the foot of the stairs, his eyes glued on us. Then he deliberately withdrew his gaze, flashed his crocodile grin once more, and walked briskly away to his car. Officer Dempster followed in his wake. We let out a collective sigh of relief as they drove off.

“Holy shit,” murmured Jack.

“Talk about acting ability,” said Nikki. “That guy is wasted on the Delores Police Department.”

“What do you think the sentence is for making fun of a police chief?” I wondered aloud.

“Zero to life. It depends whether he can pin a murder rap on you, too,” Nikki answered solemnly.

Damn. That was disturbing thought. Had we tweaked the tail of a very large and predatory tiger? I felt sick again.

“Hey, you two!” Jack said. “Lighten up.” He cupped his hands to his mouth and blew out a short jazz riff which ended in a Bronx cheer. “We’re alive! Free! The Chief had his fun. Now, let’s have ours!”

He grabbed Nikki’s free hand and twirled her under his arm. The six-pack of beer she held in her other hand trailed out behind her. A smile crept over her face as they danced. This was where I had come in.

“I’ll see you guys later,” I mumbled.

“No, wait,” Nikki said, waving the six-pack. “I still need to get rid of these. Why don’t you and Jack go to breakfast? I’ll meet you there.”

“Sounds good,” I agreed. It was eleven o’clock. Maybe breakfast, call it “brunch,” would make me feel better. And even if Nikki and Jack were “bad company,” as my mother would say, they were good company compared with the rest of the spa folk. Which wasn’t saying a whole lot.

Jack squired me into the dining hall, keeping up a steady stream of mildly lecherous patter as we went. The patter should have offended me. But coming from Jack, it just didn’t. I was still trying to figure out how he got away with it, as we approached the front counter.

Fran looked out at me over the counter. “I hope Chief Orlandi didn’t give you a hard time,” she said. “I…I have to cooperate with him. I mean, a murder! I can’t just let that go. Bradley says we should resist Orlandi, that he’s got the ‘soul of a lobster.’ But we’re doing business in Delores, and if the murder doesn’t get cleared up…” She trailed off, misery distorting her delicate features.

“Everything’s fine,” I said firmly. “Of course you have to cooperate.”

“Hey, Orlandi is part of the entertainment,” Jack chimed in. He blew a “ta-da!” through his cupped hands. “Hail to the Chief! Watch him smile! Watch him glower! Watch him turn men into mouses, women into…”

“Spouses,” I suggested.

Fran giggled.

“Don’t you worry, Mama-san,” Jack went on. “What goes around comes around.” I didn’t know just what that was supposed to mean in the context of Orlandi’s murder investigation, but it made Fran smile. Jack reached across the counter and patted her shoulder. “You’ve got a dynamite place here. Nothing Chief Orlandi can do is gonna hurt it.”

As I piled my plate high with home-baked bread, fruit and scrambled tofu, I watched Jack dancing his way around the buffet table. I felt a surge of affection for him. For all of his clowning, he had been kind to Fran. He wasn’t rewarding himself with food, though. He was hardly putting anything on his plate. A piece of honeydew and a slice of bread do not a brunch make. He saw me looking at his meager meal.

“The rest of my breakfast is out under a tarp in one of those construction areas,” he whispered in my ear. The whiff of beer that hit my nostrils told me what he meant. One can from a six-pack hadn’t produced that brewery bouquet. Poor Nikki. Loving this sweet drunk had to be crazy-making. He must have noticed I wasn’t returning his smile.

“Hey, you wouldn’t tell Nikki, would you?” he asked, his smile fading.

Damn. I wished he hadn’t told me. I didn’t care if he drank. But I thought of Nikki, out pouring away five cans of beer somewhere, thinking that was all there was. Then I took a grip on myself and gave my brain a hard shake. It wasn’t my problem.

“No, I won’t tell her,” I replied curtly.

“It’s just a little beer, man,” he said as he followed me to the table.

“Let’s talk about something else, all right?” I offered, and sat down.

“Like murder suspects,” he said, a Cheshire-cat smile taking over his face.

My face smiled back involuntarily. Drunk or not, the man had charm. “All right,” I agreed. “Tell me about some murder suspects.”

“Hey, Suzanne liked to pull everyone’s chain. I mean, she did it as automatically as other people smile and shake hands.”

“Like who?” I pressed.

“Shit, she’d tease Bradley, then put him down. She wouldn’t give Don Logan the time of day, like his being in that chair put him beneath her notice. And Terry…” Jack shook his head and laughed. I looked at him encouragingly and shoveled a forkful of scrambled tofu into my mouth.

“Kinda funny, really,” he said. “Mean, but funny. That lady had a mean tongue on her. But she was just giving back what she got with Terry.” I kept eating and nodding encouragingly. Get to the point, I urged him silently. Obligingly, he continued his story.

“Old Terry is telling her what a sell-out she is for going into law for the money. You know, why wasn’t she doing ‘people’s law’ instead of divorces and wills and that shit? How he dropped out of law school because it was ‘about people like you.’ Well, she turned around, looked him in the eye and said, ‘Flunked out, huh?’ He turned redder than…” Jack groped for the comparison.

“Red dye, number three,” I mumbled through my banana-applesauce bread.

He chortled appreciatively. “Red dye, number three. You got a tongue on you too, pretty lady,” he said.

“So, what did Terry do?” I asked.

“He cursed her. Whooee! Said some nasty things. Got redder and redder. But he never denied it. Suzanne says, ‘Looks like I was right,’ and walks away.” At this point in his story, Jack let out a whoop and roared with laughter. “She really got him. You shoulda seen his face.”

“Then?” I prodded.

“Then, nothing, I guess. He went back and sat down next to old mother hen Ruth. But the looks he shot Suzanne across the room. Whooee! If looks could kill!”

I smiled a large encouraging smile and asked, “Who else?”

He bent over the table and whispered, “There’s that Zombie for Jesus who works here.” I chuckled at the description. Emboldened, he raised his voice again. “I’d hate to be locked in a room with him for very long. He hated Suzanne the minute he laid eyes on her. And then there’s—”

“Jack, be quiet,” came Nikki’s voice from behind us. I hadn’t even heard her walk up.

I turned, and saw that she was glaring down at Jack. She paused for a quick smile in my direction. “Excuse me,” she said. “I need to knock some sense into his head.”

I shrugged my shoulders guiltily. I had been the one to pump him. Nikki lowered her head to Jack’s level and looked him in the eyes. He attempted a smile.

“This is no game, Jack Ireland. You’re going to get someone in trouble if you keep running off at the mouth like this,” she said. There was no playfulness in her voice now.

Jack looked subdued. “Listen, baby,” he said softly. “I’ve got to play all this shit like a game. It’d eat me alive, otherwise.”

She bent down and kissed him on the forehead. “I know, honey,” she whispered. “But keep it in the family, okay?”

Jack nodded solemnly, then winked at me as soon as Nikki turned to go to the buffet. I suppressed a giggle and bent my head over my food. I’ve learned not to encourage the naughtiness of children. It makes their mothers angry.

I was dutifully avoiding Jack’s eyes and stuffing fruit into my mouth when I heard the clatter of running footsteps. I turned around and saw Craig rushing in our direction.

“Thank God you’re okay!” he shouted. With one last stride, he threw his arms around me. I wriggled out of his embrace.

“Where were you?” he yelped. His eyes were frantic. “I looked all over for you. I called your room—”

“Whoa,” I said. “Calm down. I’m a free woman. What is all this?”

“I was worried. I thought you’d been killed too, I…” He was beginning to hyperventilate.

Damn.

I stood up quickly. “Sit down and breathe,” I ordered and shoved him into the vacant chair.

He slumped into it and pressed his face into his hands. I massaged his shoulders and listened as his breathing evened out.

“Hey, man. It’s okay,” said Jack. “Orlandi was just giving Kate the old third degree for a while.”

Craig’s head popped out of his hands. His eyes were wide as he twisted around to look at me behind his chair. I sat down across from him so he wouldn’t have to strain his neck.

“Oh, God. He doesn’t suspect you, does he?” Craig asked.

“He suspects everyone,” I answered. Craig didn’t look reassured. I looked at Jack for backup.

“Hey, he accused me of murdering the lady ‘cause he thinks I’m a dope addict,” Jack said. “And Nikki ‘cause of jealousy.”

“Are you still running your mouth?” Nikki snapped. She had definitely returned from the buffet. She slammed her plate on the table. A strawberry rolled off. Craig and I watched it roll.

“Baby!” implored Jack. “I was just telling Kate’s old man here how Orlandi sweated us. He’s probably sweated everyone here. Maybe we should all get together and talk about it. Let it all hang out. Then—”

“That’s a great idea,” said Nikki through clenched teeth. She certainly had a flair for drama. Her lovely face was fierce now. “Except for one little thing.”

I squirmed in my chair nervously. I had a feeling I knew what was coming as Nikki continued: “Someone really killed that woman. And Orlandi’s doing what he knows how to do to find out who that someone is. Now, I’m pretty sure Kate didn’t have anything to do with it. But one of the rest us did.” She settled her eyes on Craig as she spoke. “One of those people you want to get together with is a murderer.”

There didn’t seem to be much point in sticking around to socialize after that. I nibbled at the remains of my brunch just long enough to indicate that I hadn’t taken offense. I hadn’t. Nikki had some common sense to go along with her flair for the dramatic. Then I led Craig from the dining room, cheered him up the best I could, and went to my paisley room to call Wayne.

But Wayne wasn’t home. All I got to talk to was his answering machine. I whispered, “Wish you were here” and hung up before I got sloppy. Then I called Felix.

“This wasn’t easy” were Felix’s first words to me on the telephone. “With the information you gave me I’m not even sure I got the right people. Do you know how many people there are in California with the same names?” he grumbled.

“But you got a lot of juicy information?” I prodded.

“Yeah,” he said, pride swelling the word. “And, Kate. What you know, I know. Right?”

“You get the story,” I agreed.

“Suzanne Sorenson,” Felix began. “Not a nice person, according to the secretary at Rosen, Chang and Ostrow. If she had been killed up here you would have had lots of suspects. She went for the win, kissed ass on anyone who could help her career, treated everyone else like dirt. Elias Rosen, the senior partner, is her uncle. And here’s an interesting bit…” Felix paused for effect.

“What?” I snapped. I hated it when he did that.

“Rosen inherits.” Another pause. “Suzanne made a will in his favor last year.”