Death in Paradise (44 page)

She shifted her bulk around and put her feet up on the couch, propping them on the arm. "Looks fancy enough but this furniture's not very comfortable," she grumbled. "I don't think they make this stuff for humans to sit on. Mostly it's for show. There ought to be some kind of a law that furniture must be proved to be suitable for human use."

As a fellow tall person, or sister tall person, I had to agree. I thought the world was made for short people. My short partner, Suzanne, thought the world was made for tall people. Maybe, like with airbags in cars, everything was made for the guy who was about five feet nine or so and weighted about a hundred and sixty pounds. Maybe furniture should be sized like clothes and come in petites, regulars, and talls. Maybe, now that I was giving up the consulting business and the detective business and going into something safer and predictable, I would open Three Bears Furniture with something for momma bear, poppa bear, and baby bear. Right now, the idea was very appealing.

"Why Rob Greene?" I repeated.

"Three things," she said. "First, he was very agitated at dinner tonight. Not at all like himself. Second, I overheard him in a tete-a-tete with Linda Janovich late at night after the luau. I was on my way to a moonlight stroll; they were sitting on a bench overlooking the beach. Linda said, 'I'm not at all sorry about what happened. She had to be stopped and now she's been stopped.' He said, 'I know it's wrong, but someone had to do it. I've never hated anyone so much.' And then she said, 'The cops think it was Thea,' and they both laughed. Finally..."

She paused for dramatic effect. I leaned forward to catch the words. "Finally, I was sitting on the Molokini boat, trying out my nice new binoculars, watching one of the divers come aboard and he did the most peculiar thing. He had a knife in his hand and appeared to 'accidentally' cut himself as he was climbing aboard. And guess who it was?"

"You tell me," I said.

"Rob Greene."

"You're sure it was Rob?"

"I couldn't swear it on a stack of Bibles, but that's who it looked like."

But Rob Greene had told me he was going to spend the afternoon sitting on the beach. At a distance, through binoculars, a man in a wet suit? It made me wonder. But she seemed awfully certain. "Did you tell this to the police?"

"No, but I will. I just hadn't put it all together until the end of dinner, when Jolene said you had stared at her Band-Aids in a really queer way earlier, and Zannah said she'd heard that you'd scratched your attacker on the wrist and that was probably why. Jolene got quite huffy at the idea of you suspecting her."

"But what about Billy?" I asked.

"Billy?" she said, puzzled.

"You remember at breakfast when he handed out those clippings about the lingerie killer?" She nodded, still puzzled. "The details of the crime were a secret, Netta. Not in the papers. So how did he know? He says he hated Martina...."

Her shoulders twitched impatiently. "Billy's just a kid. Besides, he wasn't here when—"

"Billy the kid was in Rory's bathroom on Saturday when I went to talk to her. That's why she didn't want to talk to me."

"So, he got the details from Rory—" she began.

"But whoever did this knew about the lingerie killer long before that. That was the model for the crime. And if Rory was involved with Billy, why would she be stealing money for Jeff?"

Jonetta threw her hands up in the air. "How the hell do I know? I just think Rob Greene had the best reason."

My head was beginning to ache. Unfair, since it had been the one part of my body that
didn't
hurt. "Let's not fight about this. We've got a real mess of stuff here, Jonetta. What are we going to do with it?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What any right-thinking citizen would do, I suppose. Call the cops." Jonetta tried not to hate, but she sure hated cops.

The phone rang again. Assuming it was Bobby, I picked it up, and said, "So, what have you got for me this time?"

"That you, Kozak?" a muffled male voice asked.

"What? You must have the wrong—"

"I don't think so. Here's someone who wants to speak with you."

There was a silence. I could hear a child crying and then a different voice on the line, small and scared and no more than a whisper. "Thea? It's the spy."

 

 

 

Chapter 30

 

"Laura? I thought you were going to bed. What's going on?" I was annoyed with her and even more annoyed with her parents for allowing her—no, helping her—to call so late.

"I'm sorry...." She was crying so hard I could barely hear what she was saying. "I need help," she said. I signaled for Jonetta to go into the other room and pick up the phone. "After a while I didn't feel so tired anymore. I got restless. We're supposed to go home tomorrow and I wanted to go exploring one more time."

"Yes," I said, "so what's the matter? Why did you call me? What kind of help do you need? It's very late."

"Because... because..." The sobbing got louder. "They say they'll kill me if you don't come. Kill me tonight and make me disappear and no one will ever know what happened...."

A brace of expletives rushed through my brain.
Here we go again,
I thought. Set yourself up once in life as a fixer and you'll never know a moment's peace again. Befriend anyone and they'll try to haul you into danger. Then irritation was swept away in an adrenaline rush. This was a child in danger. A child. I had no time for dithering.

"Who are they, Laura?" I tried to keep my voice calm and level.

"The man who came out of the elevator... the one with the fancy shoes... and the woman who looks like you from the back. I don't know their names. Please, Thea..."

That was all Laura got to say. Someone snatched the phone away from her. Another voice, a woman's voice this time, came on the line. "She's a good little messenger, isn't she? You heard what she said. Meet us in twenty minutes at the end of the parking lot closest to town. Come alone or your little spying buddy has had her last adventure."

"Linda, this is silly," I said. "People already know too much. We know you killed Rory. It's too late to try and protect yourself with silly theatrics."

"Then I don't have anything to lose, do I?" she said. "Come alone. And bring Rory's laptop with you. Twenty minutes. 'Bye." There was a click and I was left listening to a buzzing line.

Jonetta came out of the bedroom, looking grim, and sat back down on the couch. "What a mess," she said. "I don't understand what they hope to gain by this, do you?" She clasped her hands to her head. "I just don't understand, unless we still haven't got it right, and there's someone else involved, someone we haven't thought of, who believes by doing this that he, or she, can eliminate potential witnesses."

She lowered her hands and raised her head. "So what are we going to do? Call the cops, or go perform heroic acts ourselves?"

"I don't know about you, Netta, but I've sworn off heroic acts. I've gotten myself beaten up, stabbed, and shot enough for one lifetime, and that's all we get on this planet. I'm staying right here. Especially since tonight Dr. Pryzinski announced to Andre that I'm pregnant."

"You're what, child? Pregnant? How does he know?"

"Evidently, he can tell just by looking."

"Bull tweetie," she said. "He just wants you to be pregnant because you look so female and fertile. Those gentle, avuncular men always want us to be pregnant. They've got some hard-wired idea of how women ought to be and they go around casting it on us like a spell. 'Course, if we aren't pregnant, they know what to do about it, don't they?"

I shrugged. "That's what he said. Andre has already picked out names."

"Guy works fast, doesn't he? Meanwhile, little momma, we got us a crisis on our hands."

For all my bravado declaration that I was staying right here where I was safe, I didn't see how I could leave Laura in their clutches and not try to do something. She was a child; I was an adult, and I had wittingly, deliberately, involved her in this mess, both by handing her over to the police and by encouraging her spying. A more responsible adult might have done neither of those things. By doing them, I had acquired an obligation to Laura that couldn't be fulfilled by sitting here while I called the police. She knew so little it was stupid of them to have grabbed her in the first place. But they hadn't taken Laura because they wanted Laura; they'd taken her because they wanted me. Counting on my reputation as a professional rescuer. They might have overestimated my skills as a detective, and what I knew, but they hadn't overestimated my sense of obligation.

If I didn't show up, what was going to happen? They'd still have to get rid of Laura. She'd seen them all now, and Laura was already known to the police and not the type to be intimidated into silence. Even if they could scare her that much, perhaps by threatening her family, would they rely on it? I doubted it.

What was I going to do? A smart operator doesn't go into a situation like this without a plan. I didn't have a plan. I only had a goal—find a way to keep Laura alive long enough to either let her escapes—or stall them until the police or hotel security could arrive and effect a rescue. As a professional writer of plans, I knew that goals and objectives were worthless without a set of specific steps to take to achieve them. But writing a good plan takes weeks or months. I had ten minutes.

"What are you going to do?" Jonetta demanded.

"I was thinking about watching a movie."

"With that little child in danger?"

"Here's my plan, okay?" I said. It was crazy, but it just might work. "You go in my place. You're the bravest woman I know, Netta. You go, you take them the laptop, and make them let Laura go. They all like you. They aren't going to hurt you. Look, we can call the police first, so they'll be waiting. It's a lot less risky than if I go, because if I go, they'll be planning to kill me and Laura."

"And you think they won't kill me if I go instead?"

"No. Because I think they want two things—they want Rory's laptop, and they want me. If you go and take them the laptop... get them to agree to let Laura go... and then say that I'll be happy to trade myself for you... doesn't that achieve their goals? They get what they want and Laura is safe."

The look she gave me said better than words that she'd always thought me smart and now I was being unspeakably dumb. "That's no kind of a plan. What if they kill
me?
I can't take a chance like this. Let's just call the cops."

I checked my watch. We were almost out of time. I picked up the laptop and handed it to her. "Here you go. I'll follow you at a safe distance and as soon as they let Laura go, I'll come forward and take your place."

"Girl," she said, "you are out of your mind. I've got far too many children depending on me already. We'll call the police, and—"

"They'll never get here in time, Netta. We've only got a few minutes."

"If it's you they want, they'll wait."

"You go, Netta." It was beginning to sound like a good plan to me.

She shook her head. "It's crazy for either of us to even think of going. These people are killers. Let's call the cops." She reached for the phone.

"Wait," I said. "What about this? We'll go together."

She shook her head. "No way. No way either of us should go."

"I've got to go."

"Oh, use your head."

"Laura's just a child. I have to go!"

She sighed in exasperation. "Who died and made you God?"

"Avenging angel," I said. "My sister, Carrie. Come with me, Netta. They won't hurt you."

"Bull tweetie, girl. How is the world helped by going out and getting yourself killed? You ain't no superheroine, you know. Little as I like 'em, times like this are what we've got cops for."

I was the one who had asked her up here to help me, so we were supposed to be working as a team, but deep down, even though I can be a good team player, I'm a lone cowgirl. I need to do my thinking by myself. I had to have a few minutes alone. I was smothering, suffocating, and claustrophobic. Just as, earlier, the room had been filled with Rory's voice, now the silence echoed with Laura's small, scared voice.

"I'm just going to dash into the bathroom, Netta, and then let's put our heads together and think this one through."

I went into the bathroom, closed the door, and sat down on the toilet to think, my thoughts buzzing around like hornets. None of this made much sense. Not my scenario, not her scenario, not what was happening now. Even if they eliminated me and Laura and the laptop, there was still Jonetta, and the phone messages. And Bobby, back home, who would know enough to call the cops if anything happened to me.

What if I met them and they managed to kill me and Laura? Could they offer a reasonable explanation for my death? One that people would accept? Could any death of an interested party at this point be anything but suspicious? I didn't think so, but though this was amateur hour, so far the amateurs had done a pretty good job. Still, there was Jonetta. And the messages. The bad guys didn't know Jonetta and I had had this talk. Unless the plot had yet more surprises to yield, and Jonetta was one of them?