Trevar's Team 1 Page 7

  “Like hell!” Debra spit her words.

  Anita Cruz entered when she heard Debra’s voice lifted to a high note. “They givin’ you grief, Deb?”

  “No.” Her nod in Cruz’s direction was obsequious. “Not anymore.”

  “That’s right, ‘cause I’m not letting ‘em give you problems.” Cruz’s chisel-faced sneer was menacing. But the true hatred came from coal-hued eyes that were devoid of compassion. They zeroed in on us. Her spindly fingers roguishly combed through her short, black hair. “The bitches know better than give you trouble.”

  “Watch the language,” Summer lashed.

  “Watch your mouth!” The baritone threat boomed from the hall entryway. Junie Mae Hammersmith made her way toward us. “Don’t you talk like that to my lady friends. This Hammer will put a body hold on you that will put your f-in’ ass through your nose. You got that, punk?”

  Summer’s confident frame moved nearer Hammer. My arm hooked her waist. Although Summer was in terrific shape, she was clearly no match for the hydrant-shaped block of solid muscle. “Leave it alone,” I cautioned.

  “Timid?” Cruz questioned with a snicker.

  Summer unwisely asked Debra, “What do you see in these two human blemishes?”

  Hammer’s eyes raged. Cruz’s bony face tensed. “We’ll take care of you later, chingada,” Cruz muttered.

  I stepped between the women. “We’re permitted by law to be here, so step aside.”

  There was a warning in my voice. I gave a tap against the iPhone clipped to my waist. Beside the phone was my other constant companion—a 9 mm pistol. “We’d hate to call in black and whites. No telling what they might find in the way of non-prescription drugs.”

  Debra quickly interceded. “We’re not giving you trouble. Fix yourselves a drink.”

  “I’ll pass,” I said, walking past the three of them.

  Anita Cruz and Hammer moved toward the bar. Cruz poured a tumbler of whiskey. She bolted it down. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. I could only imagine her finesse as a lover. I could imagine her roughly flogging out a climax with the delicate Debra. I could also imagine Hammer pounding Sylvia Grant to death.

  Unfortunately, as I glanced back at Summer, she must have had similar thoughts. Her expression was one of great distress. “I’m okay,” she communicated.

  We packed several cartons of Lilia’s personal effects. Summer began loading them into the trunk and backseat of my Firebird. I returned upstairs. Lilia was seated on the massive bed. Her eyes were ringed in red. I sat. My arms wrapped around her shoulder in a gesture of consolation.

  “I’m sorry. This must be terribly difficult for you.”

  Debra suddenly rounded the corner, bursting into the bedroom. “Didn’t take the Argentine whore long. Mom has just been murdered, and you’re fucking the pompous private eye.”

  Lilia was shocked. “Debra.” Lilia’s voice was one of pure astonishment. “I have never been untrue to your mother.” Her shoulders stiffened. Then her head fell into the bowl of her hands and she wept uncontrollably.

  “You may not have cheated on her, but she played around on you. The only way she could bed you was by promising fidelity. But that’s never been Mom’s style.”

  “Your allegation is evil!” Lilia cried. She stood to face Debra. “You are becoming as evil as your companions.”

  “At least they really care about me,” Debra shouted. “You took over my mother. And maybe you killed her when she was going to dump you.” Debra made a leap to grab Lilia’s hair.

  Quickly, I stepped in between them. I took Debra’s flailing arms tightly in my grasp. Debra screamed obscenities that brought a crowd. Summer, breathless, sprinted into the room first. Behind her was Cruz and Hammer slogging their way upstairs.

  Lilia moved toward Debra. “You’re lying about your mother. She didn’t want to end our relationship.”

  Debra began struggling. Summer turned to restrain Lilia. Summer ordered, “Trev, let Deb go.” Debra’s arms continued to resist my own. Summer snapped, “I said to release her.”

  With an edge to my voice, I responded, “I’ll let go as soon as she settles down.”

  “I said now,” Summer barked.

  “Okay,” I acquiesced with reluctance. As Debra eased from my grasp, she turned, swinging at me. Her fist grazed my chin. Summer quickly bridled her. I rotated my stinging jaw. My glance censured. Passing Debra, I gave her a shove. “Try that again, little girl, and I’ll put you over my knee and paddle you. And I’ll remind you Lilia just lost her lover. Now is not the time to upset her with lies about your mother’s infidelity. Show some respect.”

  Summer’s shoulders squared. She squinted at me. “She only said that to get to your Latina.”

  “You do remember who our client is, don’t you?”

  “She’s your client,” Summer replied through clenched teeth.

  “I’ll remember that when I make out payroll.” My rejoinder was with a scald.

  “Fine.”

  Debra looked pleased with herself. She motioned for Cruz and Hammer to leave, and then followed after them. Summer’s scowl remained. I suggested we allow Lilia a few minutes alone. On the way downstairs, I turned back to Summer. “Great show. That ought to make it easier for you to get in good with Debra.”

  “It isn’t a show. You’re falling for the telenovela star.”

  I swallowed a large wad of truth. “I care about her.” I suddenly stopped as if I’d been stapled to the stairs. “I know how to love. But I’m not sure I know how to fall in love. Real love.”

  “Looks like you’re about to find out.” Summer’s glance was anguished.

  I reached for her, and she twirled from my grasp. We both continued down the spiral stairway.

  After returning Lilia to her hotel, I made some of the typical private investigator’s rounds. Legwork would go into my log. I checked all the taverns within a few blocks of Jeremy’s motel room. I met a couple of drinkers who actually bragged about being his buddies. I bought them a round of drinks and then they became my buddies. Lubricated memories escaped via well drinks. Jeremy Howell was known as a braggart. And, they inferred, he’d rat out his grandmother in a heartbeat. I suspected that was to eliminate them from any involvement.

  Their delectus personae might have made me question their worth when it came to being Jeremy’s pals. They, however, looked overtly innocent. The entire afternoon made me long to be back inside a courtroom—where I would be longing to be out on the streets chasing dirtballs.

  I knew the key to alleviating my stone-gray mood. A quick trip to Publix for groceries allowed me to plan the evening’s menu. It also cleared my mind of murder. I rushed back to the yacht to begin the meal that lifted my mood.

  “What’s for dinner?” Rachel asked when she got home. “Smells yummy.”

  “Chateaubriand,” I answered. “Artichauts et pommes de terre au gratin.” I then translated, “Artichokes and potatoes. Peach Melba for dessert. I had a yearning for ice cream, peaches, raspberries, whipped cream, and pistachios.”

  “Need to keep up your strength,” Rachel said with a laugh.

  “What?”

  “You did battle with Jeremy the other day. Today I hear you took it on the chin when you skirmished with Debra. That probably set your caloric count back.”

  “I let go too soon. Her punch would have missed me.”

  “Right. And even when you do get a punch in, you don’t deck your opponent. Sad.” She was enjoying it. “Jeremy must have tripped.”

  “So he didn’t eyeball the carpet,” I defended. “His rear did a good bounce.”

  “Tough to do with no balls. And he must not have any or he wouldn’t batter women.” Rachel sat on the chair. She watched as I performed my salad magic in the galley’s center island. “Summer also informed me that you don’t like Debra.”

  “I just don’t get her. She’s had opportunity, money, even if Sylvia was missing most of her life, she didn’t go hungry
. Debra is adorable. Long strawberry blonde hair, delicate features. She has her mother’s eyes, her little sparkle. And the eyes were sparkling for Summer. Too bad Deb is a snort freak.”

  “Beryl, Summer isn’t going to return to her life as a druggy. Even if she becomes involved with Debra. I believe she’ll reform Debra before Debra could drag her back to drugs.”

  “And what about Helene? Is she still a suspect?”

  “Yes. However, she says she could never harm her eternal soul mate.”

  “How about the old imaginary cookie—Loma? Did Loma have it in for Sylvia?”

  “I continue to warn Helene not to play Loma on me.”

  “So your interrogation didn’t yield a confession?”

  “It was an empty-handed day. Tomorrow, I’ll continue with background checks. By then, there should be more information.” Rachel poured limeade into glass. “Helene did give me a backrub.”

  My eyebrows pitched upward. “So it wasn’t a totally empty-handed day?”

  She smiled. “And what about your Latina?”

  I wisely answered, “She’s there. I’m here.”

  After a sumptuous dinner, I realized my mind had been on Lilia. I retired to my stateroom. A pinwheel’s worth of stars in the sky overhead glinted in through the blinds. Attempting to sequester honest thoughts, I realized my love had always been isolationist. I knew little about the apparatus of love. I’d been told love is an involuntary act.

  Lilia Franco was a goddess of a woman. She demanded loyalty—body and soul. I probed my solitude and the powerlessness of that seclusion. My eyes tightly clamped, I elected to press for a dismissal from considerations of romance.

  5

  AS WE BASKED on the deck under the morning soft azure sun, the trio made plans. Throughout a night of tossing and turning, my soul had sung a vigilante song. I was well aware that the trail of clues usually went into deep freeze very soon after a murder.

  I’d served my partners melon slices and Eggs a la Suisse. Rachel’s agenda was to track down the officers that responded to the crime scene. Summer decided to continue to tail Deb. Things were becoming chummy between them. My own plans included paying Helene Earnest a visit.

  After showering, I dressed in my typical tan slacks with an oversized bright floral shirt. Summer had left on her assignment. Rachel was at the computer.

  “I’m on my way,” I announced, as I grabbed my keys to the Firebird. “Got anything I should know about meeting with Helene?”

  “Preliminaries. She’s got a sheet.”

  “What?” I queried.

  “Her father was a magician and her mother was a faith healer. Helene was raised in the family business. At their revivals, both she and her father plugged into the audience. They wore wires and fed the information back to the mother’s fakery.”

  “So Loma is hereditary?”

  “Right. She was also busted three times for pickpocketing. She fleeced the crowds. That was early in her career. Then she obviously had bigger fish to fry.”

  “Anything on Lilia?”

  Rachel grinned. “Stay seated. This one will rock you.”

  “What?” My back tensed.

  “She spent her adolescence in a convent school. She was programmed for nunhood. According to the background check, she’s an innocent. Her PR people worked to overcome that. Lilia Franco isn’t the sexy star she portrays. Came from a large, very poor family. No funds to educate their children. So the brightest daughter, Lilia, was sent off to the convent.”

  “That explains where she learned English. And the fine art of blushing. There is a refinement about her.”

  “Yes. After the nunnery, she attended Sylvia Grant’s Sapphic finishing school. You didn’t expect a criminal history, did you?” she probed.

  “Not at all. But the convent business is a shocker. The poverty part coincides with my own background.” I realized this was an additional bond. “Our past binds us.”

  “We all have our own pain,” Rachel spoke with calmness. Her own burden of hurt was continuous. Her mother, a judge, had passed sentence in a murder case. The man convicted served a partial sentence, was released, and then came after the family. He exacted his revenge against Rachel’s older sister, Kim. He kidnapped, beat and raped her. Kim never emotionally recovered. Rachel was impacted. She had coped with violence as a police officer. That was shunned, in lieu of desk duty with our firm. Although she was proficient with a gun when being in enforcement, she usually elected to go unarmed. When she took off her badge, she also took off her gun. She rarely toted, and when she did, it was because she’d lost the argument with her concerned partners. She looked at me with a hard grasp kind of glance. “We all suffer in our own way.”

  The moment seemed perishable. And highly flammable. Rachel’s eyes lowered, and finally shut. “If you need to talk, Rach…”

  “You’re going to be late for your appointment.”

  “You’re warning me not to stand up Helene slash Loma,” I said with a smile. “If I’m lucky, I might get a massage. After my backrub given by Helene, not Loma, I’ll stop to see Lilia. See if she’s okay.”

  “Do you care about her enough to promise a forever?”

  “I’d rip my heart out for her,” I confessed to my own amazement.

  “I hope you won’t need to do that.”

  Helene’s luxury condo was located on Singer Island. With a theatrical, throaty voice, she greeted me. “And you’re Beryl Trevar. The bloodhound business must be terribly boring if you’re questioning me.”

  “Well, I figured since you’re also old Loma, I’d get a two-for-one special.”

  She motioned for me to be seated. I studied her angular face. She was attractive, with lush lips and a milk-white showbiz smile. Her luminescent golden aqua eyes were beneath well-arched brows. Her bay-colored hair was pulled back and tied at the nape of her neck with a printed silk scarf. She wore white silk pants and a revealing, draping top. There was no bra beneath her gaping shirt. Bountiful cleavage was exposed to its best advantage. One very well might have missed the fact that she wore a pair of leather huaraches.

  I quickly glanced around the room. The décor seemed to be right out of a Toulouse-Lautrec painting. Lots of bright colors swarmed the room. Sprays of scribbled notes were stacked on each table. Columns of books waist high leaned against the wall. My assumptive consideration was that she’d been busily researching chicanery.

  “My place is a mess,” she said. “I have a cleaning service once a week. Tomorrow’s the day.”

  I continued scrutinizing the room. I figured I could read her once the interrogation got going. My glance hooked on an ashtray containing a tightly wadded empty cigarette pack. Bingo. I recalled Jeremy wadding the drinking glass wrapper in this fashion. Clue two was that Helene wasn’t a smoker. Jeremy was the Loma’s information pipeline telling all of Sylvia Grant’s secrets. The conspiratorial link was a match. Ex dolo malo says it all. Out of fraud.

  “Rachel already interviewed me. I told her all I know.”

  “I’ll bet not all.”

  “Do I detect anger?” she asked with a quick smirk. “Rachel is a much warmer person than you.”

  “Rachel is a charmer. No doubt about that. I’m not. Right now, I am upset that someone murdered Sylvia Grant. Someone she must have known killed her. There was no forced entry. That and your sizable inheritance makes you a person of interest.”

  “Would you care for a wine cooler?”

  “Am I going to need it?”

  Her lips curved as she swayed to a large oval bar. She took two bottles of berry extract with a rum mix from the cubical refrigerator. She handed me one. “Do you care for a glass?”

  “Not necessary, I’m fine.” I twisted the top and sipped. “So tell me all about Sylvia and you.”

  “She was a believer.”

  “I’m not,” I said curtly. “Spiritual profiteering by electronic ministries makes me think of the illustrious past of plate passing. Chaucer’s Pardoner. L
oma.”

  “Your soul is troubled.”

  “Let’s save ‘The Truth,’ ‘The Light,’ and ‘The Flame’ for another time. My soul is protected by a nine-millimeter semiautomatic. That keeps me from becoming overly troubled.”

  “I’m certain you’re an excellent markswoman. That gives me an idea. Perhaps I could hire your firm to guard me on my pilgrimages. I know you charge top dollar. My ministry pays top dollar.”

  I laughed. “Your flock does fill those collection plates.”

  With a quick return chuckle, she said, “Rachel told me you were an attorney. Now there’s where the real misery merchants lie in wait.”

  “Lie in wait,” I repeated her obvious pun. “Rachel said you have a good mind.” Helene enjoyed spinning the conversation around. I took another sip of wine. “But we digress. Tell me about your vocation.”

  “I want the continuation of soul growth. The same as Sylvia wanted. Do you know who killed my precious soulmate?”

  “No. Does Loma have any inkling?”

  “Loma has spoken of Sylvia and I being together for all eternity. I have never stopped feeling her light.”

  “I want to know who put out her physical light.”

  “I also attended to her physical needs. I dispensed light to her spirit and energy pills to Sylvia’s body. As I do for all of my flock.” Helene began her pitch. “The capsules we take contain secret herbal remedies with great medicinal and spiritual values. Glorious healing properties that rejuvenate one’s energy. They also boost one’s sexual stamina. Would that be of interest to you?”

  “Not so much.” I recalled Lilia telling me that she carried capsules for Silvia. “Did you also offer Lilia your special remedies?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “I’ll bet not. I have another purely business question. Who supplied you with personal information regarding Sylvia?”

  “Loma is the wisest sage of our time.”

  “Let me strain out a few of my thoughts. Someone passed Loma Sylvia’s deepest secrets.” My fingers from both hands coupled and my index fingers lifted to tap one another. I was about to become launched into the inquisition. “I’m trying to think who would have been around when Sylvia was inebriated, and when she might have spilled pertinent information. Is Jeremy Howell on a first name basis with Loma?”