Trevar's Team 1 Read online

  Summer whirled around rapidly. She lifted a huge potted plant. She hurled it against Hammer’s stomach. Hammer staggered, then slumped to the ground. As she buckled, she fought for air. Her loud groan went all the way from her empty skull to her socks.

  Half lifting, half pulling, I extricated Cruz from the shrubbery. I gave her a shove. “Take ‘Jaws’ and get out of here. Don’t come back without an invitation, or you’ll think this was a wellness festival,” I warned.

  Cruz helped Hammer to her feet. They began to back away, and then Cruz stalled. She smirked in Debra’s direction. “You’ll come back to me, Deb,” she predicted. “You need me. You’ll need your next fix. And you don’t have any cash until the estate is settled. Yeah, you’ll come crawling back to me. You’re an expensive baby.” To Summer, she said with a glower, “She snorts more in a day than you make in a week, kid.”

  Summer wiped the trail of blood from her nose. “She has another option. She can kick the habit. I did.”

  With a sway of my gun, I dispatched the duo. “Move. And don’t hurry back.” They made a hasty retreat.

  Summer grinned. “Partner, you showed up just in time.”

  “I’m just a good-timing woman,” I joked. “You okay?”

  “Fine. I do think I’ll put in for hazardous duty pay.”

  I nodded as I eased my pistol back into its holster. “You almost lost your dangling earring. Hammer was trying to swallow it.”

  Summer laughed. “I’d have been more upset if she swallowed my ear.”

  “Good thing you’ve got two ears, because I wasn’t going to part with my weapon.”

  “You looked serious,” Debra commented.

  “Anytime I draw my gun, I’m very sincere about it.” I sat on the lounge chair, expelling a huge sigh. “I don’t mind telling you, this ordeal has tired me.”

  Debra reached across a fully stocked refreshment cart. “I’ll pour you a drink.”

  “Make it a Scotch. And make it two husky fingers high,” I instructed as I leaned back. “Hell, make it an entire fist’s worth.”

  “Well?” Summer suddenly questioned.

  “Well, what?” I asked.

  “About hazardous duty pay?”

  Summer would have made a wonderful businesswoman. As a private investigator, she wasn’t too shabby either. “It can be arranged,” I answered.

  The Scotch was just beginning to relax me when my phone rang. It was Rachel. I immediately began explaining that there had been a slight altercation, but all was fine. She corrected me. Everything was far from fine. Her normally cool voice clamored the news. Lilia had just called. The police had taken her down to headquarters. They were about to book her for murder.

  As I was driving toward police headquarters, Rachel told me that they were planning to charge her with the murder of Jeremy Howell. They found her gun at the murder site. Her prints were on the gun. Jeremy, Rachel reported, was shot to death two hours ago in his motel room. One of the motel employees saw a Latina leaving his room. The gun was then found near his body. It didn’t take detectives long to find out that the gun had been registered to Sylvia.

  With the speed of light having nearly been achieved, I entered Lieutenant Powers’ office.

  “Beryl Trevar,” Powers greeted me with his usual measured disdain. He hadn’t bothered to remove the well-munched cigar from the side of his mouth. “Why do you always turn up just when I need a friend?” he sarcastically asked.

  I sat on the corner of his desk so I could look down at him. “Lieutenant, you know the old saying about it being better to have a wise enemy than a foolish friend. Here I am. I’m all the enemy you could wish for.”

  “Jeremy Howell also had one too many enemies. It looks like your client was one of them.”

  “You book her, and I’m back in the courtroom before you can light your next cigar. You’ve got nothing on her,” I objected. The palm of my hand smacked a pile of papers on his desk. “Remember, her gun was reported missing.”

  “Great disappearing gun act,” he chided. “There’s going to be a million versions of what could have happened to that gun. The one I’m concerned with was where it was found. Trevar, a Latina was seen coming out of Howell’s room. She was wearing scarf and shades as a disguise. But the hair was long, medium dark. Sounds like Lilia Franco to me.”

  “Was it a positive make?”

  “No positive ID,” he admitted reluctantly. “But try this one on for size. Franco has recently fired a gun. A ballistics proof positive. It was her gun.”

  “How did she respond when you said she’d fired a gun?”

  “She claimed you’d loaned her a gun. Since she’d never shot it before, she went to a firing range to practice. Said you suggested she acquaint herself with it.”

  “I said that. And it is logical and easily confirmed. Have you checked out the firing range yet?”

  “We’re in the process of doing so now.”

  “It seems strange someone would take the trouble to wear a disguise and then leave an important piece of evidence like a murder weapon. With fingerprints, no less.”

  “Maybe she got spooked trying to get away and she dropped it.”

  “That is gibberish mixed with speculation, and you know it. You’ve got no positive ID. Your investigation is incomplete, and you’re about to book my client. We’re talking police harassment. False arrest—”

  He interrupted, “She reported Howell was bugging her. Maybe she’d had it.”

  “And I’ve had it with this trumped up charge. Lilia Franco is known all over Florida. Why would she show up in broad daylight to kill someone?”

  “Frightened of the dark. I don’t know. Anyway, she tried to hide her identity with sunglasses.”

  “That wouldn’t be hiding her identity. She constantly wears sunglasses when she’s out. And what motive would she have?”

  “Suppose she found out he killed Sylvia Grant. Revenge.”

  “Does she look anything at all like Charles Bronson?” I huffed. “You have no case.”

  “Fingerprints on the gun.” Arrogance swept across his face.

  “I’ve conceded it could have been her gun. It wouldn’t have been unusual for her fingerprints to be there. But whoever stole it made certain not to touch the handle. That’s the oldest frame in the books. Give me a pair of surgical gloves and a fingerprinted gun, and I’ll show the courtroom how it’s done.”

  Powers called his assistant into his office. “Okay. No charges for now.”

  “She didn’t kill anyone.”

  “She’s guilty as sin about something. Gut feeling.” His squint was working its way toward certainty.

  I responded, “Maybe it’s your indigestion. Or maybe ESP. You could team up with Loma.”

  “Tell your client not to leave town. She’ll need to turn in her passport. And I’m holding you responsible if she runs.” Powers blew a puff of smoke in the air. “I’ve never seen so many lesbians on one case. I’m just glad,” he muttered, “my daughters are all normal.”

  More than one of Pluma’s quotes came to mind. But I settled for a milder rebuke. “Tom, in days of old, I’m sure we would have all been burned at the stake for our sins. Life back then just wasn’t as forgiving as it is today.”

  His assistant pointed toward the door. Lilia hadn’t been taken to a holding cell before they began a cursory interrogation. I scurried to the interrogation room where she was being held. Her eyes were bewildered—frightened. I walked to the table where she was seated. As I leaned down, she clutched my neck. She then stood, our bodies pressed tightly. Her head rested on my shoulder. I wiped her tears with reverence.

  We left as quickly as possible before the photographers could gather. Under gauzy skies, we scrambled to my Firebird. Her mouth idled before words spilled. “Beryl, I didn’t kill anyone. I know I could never kill.” Her lips were as resolutely set as marble.

  “Tell me every move you made this morning.” We sped onto County Road.

  �
��I went to a shooting range in West Palm. Then I lunched at Testa’s in the garden patio.” She closed her eyes, remembering. “I had lemonade and a sandwich. The waiter asked me for an autograph. I signed a slip of paper he had given me.”

  “Do you recall his name?”

  “I didn’t see his name.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  “Cuban. His accent was Cuban. Not tall. Very thin. He told me he also likes lemonade. I told him when I was a young girl in Argentina before my father lost his fortune and we were left destitute, we had a lemon grove in San Miguel de Tucuman. Those were happy days. That is why I care for lemonade.”

  “And lemon drops?”

  “Yes. It reminds me of the fragrant trees from my childhood memories. My family was a long line of Spanish colonists. They began the groves. My father was a very romantic figure who chased women. After his money had been lost, he moved his family to Buenos Aires. Then he abandoned us. The convent school agreed to take me in. It was very difficult to be sent away from home.”

  Her conversation answered many of my questions. Infidelity happened when there was the theft of a heart. She believed that.

  In silence, we entered The Breakers. When she was delivered to her suite, I returned to the streets to find a killer. Or killers. My resolve was strengthened by knowing that we both shared difficult pasts. Fate had shoved us around. Fate had also allowed me to find Lilia. And to fall in love with her.

  When I arrived back at the yacht, Rachel commented that a day ago she had interrogated Jeremy. She reported he’d said, ‘Cash me in. I’m wiping the dog shit offa my shoes and getting outta town.’ “Those were his parting words to me.”

  “He’s certainly been cashed in. So what did he have to say before his parting words?” I inquired.

  “He said we were driving him batty. He was headed back to New York where they knew how to deal with freaks.”

  “The freaks of New York can rest easier.” I gave a sigh. “I’m going to pay Helene a visit. After all, she’s a partner of sorts with Jeremy.”

  I hated to go back out. I was tiring. I would have loved to sit back and relax the afternoon away in the sun. Maybe plan a lovely meal. But I had unanswered questions. I wondered if Helene might clear them up. The drive to Helene’s was quicker than I thought, and my questions weren’t really formed.

  She invited me in to sit. “Why is it every time there’s a murder, you drop in on me?”

  “I thought I’d drop by to pay my condolences. I mean, Jeremy and you were close.”

  “I see Rachel is the brains behind the operation.”

  “That must be. Because for the life of me, I can’t get an accurate count of Jeremy’s enemies.”

  Helene’s expression was one of pure amusement. She loosened the plunging neckline of her coral satin caftan. Large and luscious boobs bloomed from her loungewear. Her eyes steamed, her voice was sultry. “Beryl, we all know Jeremy was a two-bit hustling dog. He probably did kill Sylvia.”

  “Would that have ticked you off enough to kill him?”

  “No. Karma is a universal truth.”

  “How about some Palm Beach truth?” I decided to spit out my supposition. “Why did you take Lilia’s gun? Did you intend to frame her from the first? You’re a schemer from way back. I’m sure you turned the gun when you were in the attorney’s office with Lilia and Debra.”

  “You’re carrying Lilia’s banner pretty high. Suppose you do actually get her cleared of suspicion and then she dumps you? You’ll wish you would have played hard to get.”

  “I don’t play hard to get. I am hard to get. Alis volat propriis,” I quoted.

  “What?”

  “It translates ‘she flies on her own wings.’ Maybe I’m tired of my own singularity. Maybe it’s time I stopped being frightened of getting dumped by someone I love.”

  I realized I’d probably continue to bridle my emotions until the case was solved. I was also impatient to find the bona fide culprit. The delay seemed excruciating. It was all becoming reminiscent of trial work. I was experiencing a very long recess on a very major case.

  After the abbreviated interrogation with Helene, I was restless. I knew hide-and-seek came well before find, but my search was on. I spent part of the afternoon hunting down The Turquoise Debra. I rented a small speedboat for my trip down the Intracoastal. Sure enough, the craft was conveniently docked near Cruz’s condominium in Boca. The waterway provided a terrific runner path between Boca Raton, Palm, and the warehouse in Little Havana.

  Anita Cruz provided the drugs for street deals in Miami. Plus, she furnished the Gold Coast’s exclusive parties with lines of imported coke. She was cornering the market. And, I noted from the swank address, she was living in luxury. She resided there without fear of being apprehended. I wished her all of the false confidence in the world.

  My outing had paid off. I sat at the helm of the runabout rental and pondered what to do. My quandary was settled when I heard the drone of an airplane. Above was a single-engine plane circling. If it was a drug drop, I was at the wrong place, at definitely the wrong time. Although I wanted to explore The Turquoise Debra, it would need to wait.

  With throttle full, I took leave. It was easy to figure that they kept their stash aboard the craft they’d stolen. If the Coast Guard pulled them over, they could ditch the boat. That kept the secured luxury condo clean. My guess was Hammer probably stayed on the craft when there was a cache of coke aboard. Speculative, but standard.

  My search had been cut short. At least I had verified where the gang docked their boat. For the rest of the afternoon, I planned to do some follow-ups. I first went to the shooting range where Lilia had practiced. I did a little target practice myself, as long as I was in the area. Lilia had definitely been there, several staffers confirmed. The nice thing about celebrity—people remember.

  My next stop was to check at Testa’s to further verify Lilia’s alibi. My partners had planned to continue calling on the suspects of their choice. As the old adage went, it was the friction in the oyster that caused the pearl to develop. Goddess knows the team was trying to cause friction.

  It was late afternoon when I arrived at the famous restaurant. I was seated in the garden patio. I ordered a Jumbo Lump Crab Cake and a slab of Key Lime Pie. I would purchase an entire strawberry pie before leaving—for dessert after dinner. That might cheer Summer up, I thought. The team was stymied. Summer was grumpy. My yummy meals hadn’t improved my partner’s dejected spirits. And I realized my baking couldn’t match the restaurant’s award-winning delicacy. Strawberry pie would give a lift to all of our spirits.

  I had asked to be seated at the same table where Lilia had told me she’d lunched. Sure enough, the waiter had served Lilia Franco. “Miss Franco is muy guapa. Very, very beautiful.”

  “And you’re certain of the times?”

  “Yes. I tell the police exact times. It is stamped on her order and was on her credit card. I would remember that, no matter. She is beautiful.”

  “I agree,” I replied with a smile.

  “Yes. My heart, it beats for her.”

  Mine too, pal, I thought. “Thank you very much for the information. I appreciate your memory.”

  He gave a slight bow. “I remember the exact time. I looked at my watch to see if it is near the next shift. I hope my friend can see Miss Franco. He comes late. But I tell him she was here.”

  Her alibi was solid, I considered. Like a barnacle on a keel, I was going to continue insisting that Lilia couldn’t have been involved. I ate the crab cake without really tasting it. I’d eaten part of the pie before savoring the zestiness of the lime. If that continued, I guessed, my palate’s culinary credentials might be challenged.

  It was becoming dark by the time I returned to the yacht. Rachel reported that Summer had called to tell us she was spending the night with Debra. I gave Lilia a quick call before returning to the office for a mini-meeting with Rachel. I reported the events of the day. We sat opposite one
another as we exchanged a multiple-possibility of theories.

  My fingers combed through my curls. “I’m wondering about the day Lilia met with Helene and Debra at the attorney’s office.”

  “And?”

  “Rach, it sounds plausible. I asked about the seating arrangements. Helene was in the middle. She was near enough to have picked the gun from Lilia’s handbag. In fact, Lilia just remembered Helene complained about stomach cramps. At one point, Lilia said, she did slump down.” I paused a moment. “Lilia’s handbag was on the floor. Helene had been fanning herself with a scarf or something. Lilia wasn’t sure about that. Lilia poured a glass of water for Helene when Helene insisted on taking one of her herbal pills. That might have been when Helene snatched the gun. If she used the scarf, she could have preserved Lilia’s prints.”

  “It’s possible. Helene is a pickpocket extraordinaire. But how did she know Lilia kept Sylvia’s gun in her handbag?” Rachel inquired.

  “Lilia always took care of holding Sylvia’s things. Sylvia might have mentioned it to Helene.”

  “Right. So first Helene gussies up to look like Lilia. Then takes the gun with prints intact. Shoots Jeremy. And finally, she drops the printed gun like a calling card.”

  “Rach, it is a possibility Helene wanted to frame Lilia. She’s got a rap sheet and she’s into gimmickry. She’s built an empire with her cunning. So why not?”

  Rachel’s frown dug into her forehead. “Why would she want to blow Jeremy away?”

  “Who wouldn’t want to blow Jeremy away?” We both snickered. “Seriously, Jeremy had been involved with her deception. She might have figured his mouth spilled too much after it had sipped too much. She killed him to keep him quiet.”

  “Anything more on Sylvia’s murder?” she asked.

  “No. I hate that admission. Rach, I hate it with all my heart.”

  Her eyes gave a hasty glimmer. “You got that one right.”

  10

  WHEN THE TAWNY glow of morning light entered my stateroom window, I woke to thoughts of how the case wasn’t going anywhere. It was taking on a fossil form. I always liked expedient resolutions. Trevar Investigators, Inc. seemed to be grinding to a halt as far as this investigation. Plural, I corrected, investigations, as we were now also looking for the murderer of Jeremy Howell. How could they not be connected, I conjectured. While the list of crimes increased, the list of suspects decreased. With Jeremy’s demise, we scratched off one of our prime suspects from the first murder.