Bad Hair Day 4 - Body Wave (16 page)

*Chapter Sixteen*
Marla barely noticed her surroundings during the drive home. Heading south on Pine Island Road, she let her mind dive into autopilot while she mulled over Leah's parting words.
So Gary was the father of Kim's baby! That put a new spin on things. If Jeremiah wasn't giving Kim money because of her pregnancy, could he still have been the source of her tuition payments? It didn't seem likely they were having an affair, as Kim's neighbor had suggested. According to Leah, Kim was shacking up with Gary, her former boyfriend. That went along with what Kim's classmates had said. Certainly Kim's source of funds couldn't be Gary, who lacked enough money to put his shop in order. Why, then, had Jeremiah visited Kim, and which one of them had made the initial contact? And if the minister was paying her off, what hold did she have on him?
Vail had promised to look into Jeremiah's business practices, and she was content to let him handle that angle. They needed more answers, and fast. Her deadline was rapidly approaching. Less than two weeks to go, or Stan would revoke his agreement. Not that she'd arranged for financing to afford the lump-sum payment he required. That was another item on her list of things to do, including Brianna's birthday party.
The phone was ringing when Marla entered her house. Throwing her purse on the counter, she rushed to lift the kitchen phone. "Hello?"
"Is this Marla Shore?" rasped a familiar female voice.
"Yes, who is this?"
"It's Kathleen. You remember me, luv?" she said in a hushed tone.
Recognition dawned. "The Pearls' housekeeper." Alarm frissoned up her spine. "Is something wrong? Has Miriam...?" Words gagged in her throat.
"I know who you are."
"Oh." This wasn't about the old lady then.
"There are things you should know. I can't speak here. You'll have to meet me." Her staccato sentences held a note of fear.
"I'll see you tomorrow night at the Pearls' house, won't I? I hope you won't tell them who I am until we have a chance to talk. I really do care about Miriam's welfare, you know."
"I won't be there. They've given me the evening off. Besides, it's too dangerous. He warned me to keep quiet, but I felt you should know."
Marla gripped the receiver tighter. "Know what? Who told you to keep quiet?"
Voices merged in the background. "I have to go," Kathleen muttered. "I'll be at the Shlock Mart on Thursday. Miriam likes the papayas from the produce section, and she sends me there once a month. It's part of my ordinary routine to go."
"You mean the flea market on East Sunrise Boulevard?"
"Aye, luv. Meet me by the circus at eleven-thirty. It'll be crowded, so hopefully no one will spot us."
"I'd rather meet you tonight. I could leave now."
"No, no! He'd see me! Wait until Thursday." _Click._
Marla hung up, more confused than ever. What did Kathleen have to tell her that was so urgent, and who'd warned her? She'd used the male pronoun. Did she mean Morris?
Marla went about her evening duties half-heartedly. After shoveling down a quick turkey burger with french fries, doing the dishes, and leafing through her mail, she leashed Spooks for a walk. A leisurely stroll might help clear her mind.
Marla's eyes feasted on the colorful displays of flowers along the path, still visible despite the darkening sky: peach and tangerine impatiens, purple Hong Kong orchids, crimson penta, and burning-hot pink bougainvillea. Orange blossom perfume permeated the air. Balmy with ocean breezes, it was a night made for intrigue.
On her way back to the house, she ran into Goat outside. Her scrawny neighbor glanced up from where he was examining an anthill. He wore a sheepskin vest over a Hawaiian shirt with a beaver cap on his head. "Hey, Marla, what's doin'?"
"Working on another case." She allowed Spooks to sniff his ankles.
Goat scratched the poodle behind its ears, then he straightened. "Ugamaka, ugamaka, chugga, chugga, ush," he chanted, undulating his body. _"Vroom_ went the car, shinier than a jar, doesn't belong around _hyar."_
The pet groomer liked to talk in riddles. "What are you saying?" Marla asked.
A shriek emanated from inside his apartment, and he cringed. "Uh-oh, I think Junior may have met Mrs. Almo's parakeet. I forgot to close the cage, man."
Junior was his pet snake, which he'd alluded to in previous conversations. Marla had never been brave enough to set foot inside his place. "Wait, before you go. What car did you see?"
"An expensive sets of wheels." He scratched his sparse beard. "Foreign model."
"Half our neighbors have foreign cars. What's so unusual about that?" West Broward County qualified as a showroom for expensive automobiles. It would have to be something unusual indeed to catch Goat's attention. "Wait a minute, you don't mean a Porsche, do you?"
He stared at her blankly. "I dunno. Gotta go feed Junior, although I think she's already had her meal."
"Great, see you later." Leaving him to his pet snake, Marla turned away. Had the unknown driver been Jeremiah Dooley? He could have returned home yesterday, after she and Vail left Tarpon Springs. But why would he be interested in casing her territory? She didn't have time to think about it, because as she neared her townhouse, a Mercedes pulled into the drive.
_Oh joy. Just what I need. Why couldn't Dalton drop over instead of Stan?_ Vail had promised to call her, but she hadn't heard from him since he had taken her home last night.
Stan accosted her on the sidewalk. Her heart lurched when she took in his haggard appearance. It wasn't like him to unbutton his dress shirt, discard his jacket, and loosen his tie. His hair, normally greased off his forehead, hung in wet strands as though he'd just ridden down a waterfall. A moment's trepidation shook her, and she had half a mind to call after Goat. But Stan's hazel eyes glowed with excitement, not menace, as he grasped her arm.
"Wait till you hear what I found out!" he said in an urgent tone. Before he took another step, Spooks attached himself to Stan's leg. Cursing, Stan kicked and stamped, but the dog maintained his grip.
"Spooks, get off," Marla ordered. "What is it? Do you know who killed Kimberly?"
"Not yet, but this is important. Aren't you going to invite me inside?"
His earnestness overrode her caution. "All right. Come in, and I'll put Spooks in the backyard so he won't bother you."
When they were seated in her living room, she folded her hands patiently. "All right, what's your news?"
He perched on the edge of an armchair. "I searched through Kim's genealogy files. She'd taken a lot of notes, even checking birth records. That's where I discovered it."
"Go on."
His eyebrows lifted. "Jeremiah Dooley is the bastard son of Harris Pearl."
"What?"
"You heard me. It appears that wealthy coffee magnate Harris had an affair with their Irish maid, Colleen. Birth records list Harris as the father, not Piotr, whom she married before having the child. It's doubtful Harris even knew about her pregnancy."
Marla stared at him, thoughts tumbling in her head. Jeremiah ... Uncle Jerry. This meant he truly was Kimberly's uncle! "Did you know Kimberly was attending school and studying interior design?" she asked Stan.
Stan lowered his gaze. "I-I believed Kim when she said she was going to the sports club. She lied to me, Marla. Lied to me. What did I do to her that she hated me so much?"
A surge of sympathy swelled to the surface. "I don't think she hated you, Stan. You tend to be too controlling. Limiting her friendships, curbing her credit cards. She wasn't accustomed to restrictions."
"But I gave her everything she'd wanted: a nice house, a generous allowance, security."
"It's not enough! You can't make a wife happy by constantly putting her down and telling her how much she needs you. That's where you went wrong with me. I needed to grow, but you held me down. It's obvious Kimberly reached the same point."
"She was too naive to know what she wanted. That's probably what got her killed."
Marla gave an exasperated sigh. No matter what, Stan still put the blame elsewhere. Three failed marriages, and he hadn't learned a single lesson.
"I think Kimberly was killed because she knew someone's secret," Marla said. "Take Jeremiah, for instance. Who else in the Pearl family knows about his existence? Judging from her reaction to his television show, I'd say Miriam is aware of their connection. Presumably, so is Morris, who recognized Jeremiah's name on the piece of paper you gave me. Let's not leave out Florence, who'd mentioned Kim was messing in things she didn't understand."
"So? If they already knew about Jeremiah, why would they care about Kimberly finding out?"
"I don't know, but let's look at the reverse situation. Maybe Jeremiah is the one who doesn't want word to spread. After all, he's a popular televangelist. How would it affect contributions to his ministry if his constituents found out he was half Jewish?"
"It may not make any difference, except to him."
Marla related their interview with the preacher. "He lives around here, which puts him in the vicinity the morning of Kim's murder. Jeremiah didn't say anything to us about his relation to Kim." She crossed her legs. "I'll see what I can find out when I'm taking care of Miriam tomorrow night."
"Be careful. Obviously, Jeremiah Dooley is a touchy subject with them. And you never know ... it might be dangerous for whatever reason to talk about him."
She noticed the creases on his forehead. "Are you actually concerned for me?"
"I never stopped being concerned. You didn't want me, remember?"
_We've been down that path._ "There's another possibility."
"Kim's pregnancy." Stan nodded glumly. "Leah told me about Gary. Detective Vail will believe I killed my wife because I suspected her child wasn't mine."
"That's not how I see it. Kim's friend Lacey had her sights set on Gary. Lacey could have been jealous enough to kill her rival. I'd like to talk to Gary again."
"You seem to have covered all the bases." He didn't sound pleased, but then, time was running out, and they hadn't discovered the killer yet. Too many people who'd known Kim had possible motives.
"You know, Elise Addison suspected her husband was having an affair with Kim," Marla said. "But if Kim was sleeping with Gary, then Elise got it all wrong. Maybe she bumped off Kimberly in a fit of misplaced rage."
"I can't conceive of Elise as a killer. Besides, I asked Cliff who he was seeing." He shot her a furtive glance. "Our other social partner, Jessica Shpritz, is pregnant. Her husband, Adam, was away on a business trip an appropriate number of months ago."
Marla's mouth gaped. "You mean Jessica Shpritz and Cliff Addison?"
"You've got it. I think Elise will catch on soon enough if she hasn't already. If you ask me, Cliff is a fool."
_At least you never played around while we were married._
She rose and stretched. "Thanks for the information about Jeremiah. If you don't mind, I have things to do now."
As if to emphasize her point, her cell phone rang. Striding quickly into the kitchen, she snatched it from her purse. "Hello?"
"I hope I'm not interrupting your dinner," said Vail's gruff voice.
"I ate earlier, thanks. Stan is here. He found out that Jeremiah Dooley was Kimberly's half-uncle."
A moment of silence met her words. She didn't know if her statement was news to him, or if Dalton was annoyed about Stan's visit. "Explain," he ordered.
"Are you busy? Stan is just leaving. You could come over for coffee, and I'll bring you up to date."
"Good, I just dropped Brianna off at dance class, so it won't take me long to get there."
Stan didn't seem in any hurry to leave. When she returned to the living room, he was still ensconced on his chair, flipping through a _Quick Cooking_ magazine. "You didn't offer _me_ coffee," he said idly.
She thought of his big empty house, and for a moment was tempted to invite him to linger. "Sorry, but this interview is over. I'll call you in a few days and let you know what I've learned."
Tossing aside the magazine, he shoved his body out of his seat. Facing her, he displayed a wounded look. "I don't want to go to prison, Marla. Are you sure your feelings for that police detective aren't getting in the way?"
Marla took a few steps toward him, then halted. "I'm on your side, remember? You can rely on me. Bye, Stan."
As soon as she'd closed the door behind him, she rushed into her bedroom to prepare for Vail's visit. Her sweater and slacks would have to do, but she quickly brushed her hair and spritzed herself with perfume. She barely had time to turn on the coffeemaker before he arrived. Her pulse quickened as she took in his neatly styled hair parted to one side, freshly shaven jaw, body encased in knit shirt and jeans.
"Hi," he said, smiling in her doorway.
"Hi. Come on in."
"Don't I get a proper greeting?" he asked after she'd shut the door. Before Marla could protest, he swept her into his arms and lowered his head.
Whiffs of spice cologne drifted into her nostrils. His lips, insistent, forced hers to part as his tongue traced the outlines of her mouth. Heady sensations spiraled through her, weakening her knees. She slid her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his hard form. He reacted to her responsiveness by tightening his arms.
Realizing she risked losing her resolve, she reluctantly tore herself from his embrace.
"We don't have much time before you pick up Brianna," she said breathlessly. "I have things to tell you."
"I'd rather do this" -- he kissed her again -- "and this." He nuzzled her neck.
"Not now, Dalton." She brushed him off, hearing Spooks barking at the back door. "I have to let the dog in, and our coffee should be ready by now. Come into the kitchen."

Vail leveraged his large frame into a kitchen chair, stooping to pet the poodle while she poured two mugs of coffee. Spooks yapped a happy greeting until she threw him a biscuit. Grabbing the treat with his mouth, Spooks ran into the living room to chew in privacy.
"I've been checking into Jeremiah Dooley's fish farm business, tax records, and so forth."
"Isn't his ministry exempt?" She added cream and sugar to her beverage.
He took a sip of the steaming brew. "Yeah, and it appears to be a thriving enterprise. The only thing that bothers me is that his wholesalers pay more for his product than is the norm."
"You think he's giving kickbacks?"
Vail shrugged his broad shoulders. "Could be. His imports seem to be legit. At least, Customs hasn't found anything besides tilapia fish in his shipments."
"He's Morris Pearl's half-brother. Maybe this explains how they both ended up with properties in Costa Rica and Latin America. Harris might have deeded some of his land to Colleen."
"That's assuming Harris knew Colleen was pregnant. So the old man had a fling with their maid, did he? Here's another option: Miriam paid Colleen off to get rid of her."
"I'll ask her about it." It was time for a reckoning with the matriarch, but Marla didn't look forward to her making her confession. She'd miss cajoling the old lady out of her shell after her dismissal, the inevitable conclusion to her deceit.
"You know," she said, "Stan mentioned their neighbor Elise, who thought Kim might be fooling around with her husband. It turns out the husband has been shacking up with Jessica Shpritz. Elise was suspicious of the wrong person, but I wonder if she confided in Florence. They work together for a bird conservation group."
"You told me that already. What's your point?"
"Florence might have carried tales to the family about Kim's infidelity. Kim was cheating on Stan, albeit with Gary. But it could be a reason why Kim's mother is convinced of Stan's guilt."
What else did she have to tell Vail? Another item niggled at the back of her brain, but it wouldn't gel. It surfaced only after the detective left. Of course! She'd forgotten to tell him about her appointment with Kathleen at the Shlock Mart on Thursday. Oh, well. That was another day away.
Wednesday morning she left the house bright and early to make a stop on her way to work. She hoped to catch Gary Waterford at his shop when it opened. Marla needn't have worried; eight o'clock found his repair place door slightly ajar. After knocking lightly, she pushed open the door and entered. No one greeted her, but she heard voices coming from a back room.
"Look, Lacey, no one knows," Gary said. "So what if that cop came to see you again?"
"So what?" Lacey's voice rose to a hysterical pitch. "I told you not to trust Christine and Rocco. They must've ratted on us."
"It's no big news that we're together."
"No, but Christine knew you pretended to care about Kim when all you were after was her money. You didn't tell me she was pregnant! That detective all but accused me of knifing Kim out of jealousy."
Marla stepped closer, hoping to hear more, but her foot dislodged some screws scattered on the floor.
"Shit, someone's out there," Gary snapped. "It must be Irving. He's usually the first guy through the door. Hey, buddy, wanna take a chance on Galloping Gerlinda today?" he called, striding into the front room. Spotting Marla, his jaw dropped in astonishment.
She stepped over a length of discarded piping and peered at an open newspaper on the counter. It listed the one o'clock post time for Gulfstream Park.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
Lacey, following on his heels, hissed when she saw Marla. "You!"
"Yes, me. It's time for the two of you to come clean. Or would you rather talk to Detective Vail down at the police station?"
"I don't know nothin' about who killed Kimberly," Gary said, hunching his shoulders. He wore a sweatshirt over faded blue jeans with stylish holes at his knees.
"She was pregnant with your baby," Marla said quietly.
"How do you know?"
"Because she told Christine."
Lacey's pale face scrunched in dismay. Her blond hair hung in stringy clumps as though she'd just gotten out of bed, an image reinforced by her rumpled cotton blouse and jersey pants. "Gary, you were supposed to get her money and then dump her. You lied to me!"
"No, I didn't." He put his arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged him off. "I thought she was on the pill. She's the one who lied to me."
"How did you feel when Kimberly told you?" Marla asked Gary.
His expression darkened. "Annoyed as hell. I can't afford no child support. I told her to make like it was Stan's, but she wouldn't hear of it. _I'm leaving him as soon as I get enough money._ No way did Kim care if he found out, even after I'd warned her."
"Who paid Kim's tuition at design school?"
"Damned if I know. She said somethin' about a rich uncle." He pointed to the doorway where footsteps sounded behind Marla. "Ask him. Maybe he knows."
Marla swirled around, exchanging an amazed glance with Morris Pearl.