Dead on Her Feet (An Antonia Blakeley Tango Mystery Book 1) (30 page)

“I just
got
evidence, if you’ll just listen.”

“Which we’ll be unable to use in court, thanks to you.” The fact that she’d touched the keyboard and obliterated any other fingerprints had obviously not occurred to the woman. He signaled to Jackson to bring him a pencil and paper from the desk. “Tell me exactly what you found.”

“I told you, someone erased a martial arts site. I think it might have been Shawna.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Because she uses Christian’s computer all the time and there’s a fan on the site like the one she had at Halloween.” She gave him the URL.

“Why would she bother to erase it?”

“Because it’s got Japanese weapons on it. Shawna was carrying a Japanese fighting fan that night.”

He said, “A cheap tourist imitation.”

“How do you know?”

He said, “I wrote a short monograph on them.”

“There’s no need to get sarcastic with me.”

“Antonia, anyone could have erased that site—even you. As far as the legal system is concerned it’s inadmissible now. And the only way anyone could have killed Nathalie LeFebre with that fan would have been to conk her on the head.”

That seemed to sink in because she went quiet. He heard her exhale noisily into the phone. Then she said in a slightly calmer tone, “I’m going to ask Shawna if the site is hers, and if it is, maybe she has some idea why someone wouldn’t want us to see it.”

“Knock yourself out.”

“You don’t think this is helpful? Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to iron my dress with my butt waiting for you to do your job.”

Forgiveness

SO OKAY, ANTONIA THOUGHT.
I touched Christian’s computer and maybe I ruined Morrow’s chance to use it as evidence, and maybe he was right and the website erasure didn’t mean anything, but Christian’s life is at stake. One thing’s for sure, if I could turn back time I’d break into Christian’s apartment all over again. I just wish I didn’t have to be on the receiving end of Morrow’s acid reflux.

The best course of action, she decided, would be to return to the hospital, guard Christian, and get him to come to.

Her cell phone rang as she was pulling into the visitors’ parking lot. It turned out to be Shawna wanting to know why she had called. When Antonia filled her in on what had happened to Christian, leaving out the part about having temporarily suspected her, of course, Shawna insisted on joining her.

Antonia waited in the main lobby, checking out the portraits of the serious-minded white men who’d founded and supervised the hospital over its history. Shawna arrived a few minutes later wearing a pair of Antonia’s army pants and a fresh Braves sweatshirt, carrying her purse and an overnight bag. Antonia was touched to see the concern in her friend’s face.

Shawna hugged her. “How is he?”

“Nobody knows. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Shawna handed her the overnight bag. “I thought you might want to stay over.”

Antonia led Shawna up to Christian’s ward and convinced the nurse to let Shawna into his room by making her a fictitious sister.

Antonia pushed open the door and drew back the privacy curtain. She approached the bed and kissed Christian’s forehead. “Hey Christian,” she said softly. “I’m back. I brought Shawna.” She saw no response but at least his color looked better.

Shawna tiptoed into the room and peered at him from the end of the bed. “How’s he doing?” she whispered.

Antonia pulled out a paperback she had taken from Christian’s apartment.
Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth
hadn’t been much of a choice but it was better than a technical manual. “He hasn’t come to yet. I thought I’d read to him.”

“Can he hear us?”

“I don’t know. But I have to do something or I’ll go crazy. Have a seat.”

The hospital staff had arranged for a rollaway cot to be set up at the far side of the room. Shawna placed her purse down on it and sat. “I’ve been praying.”

“Me too, but more as insurance.” Antonia plunged in, feeling like Judas. “I went to Christian’s apartment to see if I could find a reason for someone to try to poison him. I found a website that had been recently erased. A martial arts site. I thought it might be yours. Any idea why someone might have erased it?” She gave Shawna the site name, watching to see if it prompted any reaction.

Shawna combed a stray hair back into place behind her ear. “That’s probably the site I bought my fan on, the one I used for my Halloween costume. I remember at the beginning of the summer I was looking at a set of shuriken—ninja stars—for my collection and I bought the fan. I thought it would make a good decorative accent, but it didn’t. But it turned out to be perfect for my costume.”

Shawna hadn’t even known Nathalie then. The explanation was so innocent. Antonia cracked up. “I’m sorry.” In between bouts of laughter she managed to get out, “You’re going to think I’m a complete lunatic. For a second I thought maybe you’d bought it to use on Nathalie and didn’t want anyone to know when you’d placed the order.”

Shawna worked her jaw like she’d taken a sucker punch. “
What?
”

“I’m sorry. It was a stupid thought. Never mind.”

Shawna stood up. Her freckled face was flushed as if she’d been running. “I can prove when I bought it.”

“That’s okay, I believe you.”

“I was the one to break it off with Roland, if you remember.”

“I swear, I believe you. Christian said he was going to rebuild his hard drive. He probably erased the site himself.”

Shawna said, “Well then, who do you think tried to poison Christian?”

Antonia didn’t have to think twice. Roland was the obvious choice. He’d been connected to two deaths in one year, and the whole business with Miles Rothenberg falling into a river had never felt completely right. And Morrow
had
followed Roland to El Abrazo. Maybe it hadn’t felt right to him, either. Could Roland have snuck back into the house and taken the pill bottle?

Shawna said, quietly, “You don’t have to answer that.” Antonia saw the pain in her eyes and knew her friend must be missing Roland; not the louse he turned out to be but the husband he might have been.

Shawna drifted over to the window. A box of purple latex gloves had been left on the sill. She tugged at one of the gloves and drew it out. She took the index finger of the glove and pulled it like it was a rubber band, then tossed the glove onto the cot. “Ah, well, it doesn’t matter now.”

“I’m really sorry, Shawna. About everything.”

“So am I.” Shawna gathered her purse and swept out of the room.

Not knowing what else to do Antonia pulled up a chair, opened Bucky Fuller, and started to read. Apparently in a shipwreck a piano top worked as a life preserver, but that wasn’t to say the best way to design a life preserver was in the form of a piano top.

A piano top in a shipwreck, Antonia thought. That’s what I am.

Loose Ends

OAKLAND CEMETERY WAS QUIETER
than it had been the last time Morrow had visited. The mockingbird that had sung during Rothenberg’s funeral was nowhere to be heard. Only the occasional MARTA train rumbling in the background interrupted the stillness of the burial ground.

After paying his respects at Miles Rothenberg’s grave, Morrow made himself comfortable on the wrought iron bench facing the Lion of Atlanta memorial where the stone lion lay dying on a Confederate battle flag. Soldiers’ graves, simply marked with the name of each of the honored dead, dotted the lawn in orderly rows. No mystery as to how or why they had died.

Earlier in the day he’d tasked Jackson with a few loose ends: find out if the Japanese company sold a weapon to any of the suspects, find out where each suspect had traveled in the past year, and fill in their criminal history. Jackson had delivered.

The Japanese website Antonia had found on Cookerly’s computer was in fact Shawna Muir’s but the company confirmed she’d ordered her ersatz fighting fan in June, before Nathalie had appeared on the scene at El Abrazo.

Robert “Bobby” Glass

Travel: Sabbatical at Oxford University, UK (previous year) and field trip to Morocco (March)

Criminal History: None

Roland Guest

Travel: United Arab Emirates (February), Italy (March), France (March) with Shawna Muir, Italy (May), Argentina (January, June, and August - twice), Colombia (September)

Criminal History: None

Shawna Muir

Travel: France (March) with Guest

Criminal History: None

Barbara Wolfe

Travel: Peru the previous year

Criminal History: None

 Jackson had added a note in the margin: Wolfe’s high school alma mater was home to the Rattlin’ Tator ’Possum Eatin’ Festival. The idea of Barbara Wolfe facing off with a possum made him laugh, something he rarely allowed himself while on duty. Thank the Lord for cemeteries.

Eduardo Sanchez Jaury had travelled back and forth to the US on a number of occasions. Nothing new on his criminal past. Morrow had read more on Argentina’s Dirty War. The Army had “disappeared” thirty thousand people, mostly students, lawyers, factory workers, and journalists. Basically anyone they didn’t like. Most were innocent. The Army came for their victims in green Falcons and took them away for interrogation. After torturing them the Army floated their bodies down the Rio Plat or dropped the live ones out of airplanes into the ocean. The Montoneros’ guerilla tactics, however ruthless, seemed humane in comparison.

Had Sanchez been a Montonero? Had he killed his wife? Had he killed Nathalie LeFebre? Hopefully not.

Antonia Blakeley

Travel: Berlin (May)

Criminal History: None

Formerly married to Rux Donner, surgeon. Divorced on charges of spousal abuse and extreme cruelty.

Jackson had outlined the Donner lineage with biblical attention to who’d begotten whom. The notes had been unnecessary: the Donners were even more prominent than the Guests.

Restraining order sought against the husband but denied.

The system had screwed her. That explained a lot.

Donner later severed his ties to the Atlanta community for reasons unknown and took up practice in Sarasota, Florida.

Morrow wondered what she’d done to get Donner to leave town, for there was no doubt in his mind she’d wrangled it. Smart gal. More often, a battered woman took out her dearly beloved by accidentally cleaning a gun in his face.

Christian Cookerly

Travel: None

Criminal History:

Morrow had taken care of this one himself. The town outside Cincinnati where Christian had lived was small and their police department even smaller. No memo or court record existed on the case but it had been a simple matter to find the detective who’d worked it. Retired to Florida. No problem sharing his personal notes on the case to help out a fellow cop, including the crime scene photos. Happy to send them along. They’d arrive any time now.

Experience told him Miles Rothenberg’s death, Nathalie LeFebre’s murder, and the attack on Christian Cookerly were probably connected, and that he was only a few questions away from unlocking the truth. But the hard fact remained: the evidence they had was tainted and they’d never be able to prosecute. What a clusterfuck.

Only one way left for honor and justice to be served.

Improvise, adapt and overcome.

The circumstances called for something special.

Parejas

The two partners in a tango

THE DOCTORS ASSURED ANTONIA
there was nothing she could do for Christian except let him rest and Morrow had arranged for a police guard so she decided to go forward with her usual Sunday afternoon class and use it as an opportunity to investigate. She didn’t have a plan, exactly, except to watch everyone. Morrow couldn’t stop her from doing
that
.

The studio was actually a comfortable temperature for November. Roland had delivered on one promise, anyhow: a monster fan oscillated merrily in the corner, blowing cool air on her grateful class.

Pugliese’s “La Mariposa” played at full boom-box volume. She’d ringed the floor with traffic cones, making the dance area progressively smaller each week, and the class was now working quite well within a twelve-by-twelve-foot area. The leaders navigated the perimeter without bumping each other. Even Bobby had curbed his tendency to drift to the center of the floor, although he still took the occasional deadly back step.

Since the police still required Eduardo in Atlanta he’d offered to help with the class, making the rounds, dancing with each of the followers and thrilling them with a dose of authentic milonguero, much to Roland’s ill-concealed irritation. Barbara and Shawna avoided Roland altogether and occupied themselves with the newer men. No longer the main attraction on the menu, Roland consoled himself with the visiting instructor from Augusta.

Antonia turned down the volume and called the class to order. “Today we’re going to work with waiting—finding the moments of silence within the music.” As she continued to develop her theme, watching the faces of her students to see how well they were tracking, Antonia saw their attention waver and she realized they were looking over her shoulder. She pivoted.

Morrow stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of him. He’d lost the tie so it must be casual day at the office, but his face displayed all the warmth of a Buckingham Palace guard. Well, if he was mad he could just be that way. It wasn’t fair to blame her for destroying evidence; without her there wouldn’t have been any evidence to destroy.