Night of the Living Dandelion (30 page)

“I’ll see what I can find out about that,” Marco said. “And we’ll need to watch those security videos again, to see if Jerry was there Tuesday night. I’ll call the casino and see if we can go in at lunchtime tomorrow.”

“We’d be cutting it close. I have to see my foot doctor at two. Can you make it later?”

“Are you sure you want to take all that time off, Abby? I can watch the tapes. I’ll head over there as soon as I drop you off at Bloomers in the morning.”

“You’re right. I’ve been gone a lot. I’d better stick close to the shop.”

Marco had saved the back booth for us, so as I made my way through the crowd ahead of him, I caught Vlad’s eye and smiled. He winked. Two women sitting at the bar thought he had winked at them and nearly fell off their stools.

I glanced to the left and saw Kyle at a nearby booth watching our progress. He lifted a hand in greeting.

“How’s it going?” Marco called to him.

I eased into the booth, making sure not to bump my tender ankle, while Marco went to put in our food orders and bring back beers. I saw his head bartender pull him aside to tell him something, so when Marco returned with our drinks, he said, “One of my distributors phoned and needs to talk to me. I’ll be right back.”

Marco headed toward his office, and a moment later, Vlad sat down across from me. Every female in the place swiveled to watch as he leaned toward me. “How’s your ankle?”

“It’s back to its normal size. Thanks for not mentioning it to Marco. No sense stressing him over nothing, right?”

Vlad gave me a nod, his cool gray gaze saying,
Don’t worry. I know how to keep a secret.
Which was why I still didn’t feel safe in taking him off the suspect list.

“I feel like an idiot,” Vlad said. “I didn’t pay you for the plants this afternoon. Okay if I stop by the store tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Have you heard how Jillian is?”

“She’s better. Claymore texted a little while ago that the antibiotic is working, and she’s giving everyone at the hospital a hard time.”

“Is that good?”

“It means she’s becoming her old self again.”

“Give her my regards,” he said, rising.

“Will do.”

Vlad did a visual sweep of the room before starting through the crowd, as though checking for danger. It was something I’d seen Marco do many times, a vestige from his Special Ops training, he’d told me. As Vlad made his way to the bar, I saw more than one woman slip him a business card. I also saw Kyle frowning as he watched Vlad.

Marco slid onto the bench beside me. “Got it all straightened out,” he said, reaching for his beer.

“Do women give you their business cards?”

Marco gave me a puzzled look. “What?”

“I saw several women give Vlad their cards, so I wondered if it happens to you.”

“All the time.”

“What?”

“All the time.” Marco leaned toward me until our foreheads were touching. “And I throw them all out.”

“Nice save.”

He unfolded a piece of paper and turned it to face me. “Look what I picked up today. A copy of Kyle’s time sheet.”

“Just so you know, Kyle is sitting at the front booth.”

“I know. See this? He was on duty last Tuesday from three until midnight, and back on duty Wednesday morning at eight. He could have easily made it to the boat before Lori left Tuesday night. His alibi doesn’t hold up.”

“Then why isn’t he being investigated?”

“You know how it works. The chief prosecutor is looking for a quick arrest and a simple conviction. Vlad’s practically got a target on his back. All we need is one damning piece of evidence on one of our suspects, Abby, and we can make it go away.”

“Dinner’s served,” Gert said, setting plates of pulled pork sandwiches and potato salad in front of us. “Need anything else?”

“This will do. Thanks, Gert.” Marco picked up the big sandwich with both hands, while I tried to attack mine in a more ladylike fashion, cutting bites with my fork and knife.

“Anyway,” Marco said, “I got to thinking about that photo of the Vlad look-alike taken in the casino parking lot. There had to be two people involved—one to take the photo and one to pretend to be Vlad—so my first thought was that Kyle might have enlisted the help of one of the other EMTs. So I checked the time sheets, got the name of the paramedic who worked with Kyle last week, and arranged a meeting for tonight at the Daily Grind.”

“How did you convince him to come?”

“I told him I had evidence that linked him to the murder investigation. It was a long shot but it did the trick. So we’ll visit Willis’s neighbors first, then hop over to the casino at eight o’clock to catch Holloway, then return to meet with the paramedic.”

I yawned, thinking about the late night. “Sounds like we’ll be busy all evening.”

“We need to get this investigation moving, babe.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Yes, I am.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “I really wanted us to have free time together this week, Marco. But that’s okay. I understand this is important.”

Marco put his arm around me. “It
is
important, Sunshine. I appreciate your understanding. Who knows? Maybe we’ll find that piece of evidence tonight.”

Lori Willis had lived in a neighborhood of bungalow houses just west of County Hospital. The houses were small and affordable and therefore popular among the hospital’s huge nursing and administrative staff. Lori’s white aluminumsided house sat on a corner, with her backyard abutting the yard of the gray-shingle house whose occupants had decorated their lawn with plastic geese and spotted fawns, along with half a dozen bird feeders.

We canvassed the neighbors on Lori’s street first, and none reported seeing or hearing anything unusual Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. But a woman in the gray-shingle house told us that a nurse living two doors away on the other side of her had visited Lori on Wednesday morning, blowing our theory that she had been abducted from the casino.

“Are you sure this nurse visited Wednesday morning?” Marco asked.

The neighbor, Mrs. Green, a ferretlike woman who kept blinking her eyes as though they were itchy, said in a loud voice, “It was Wednesday, sugar. Wednesday morning is garbage pickup day. I may be a senior but I’m not senile.” She wiggled her hips. It was quite startling. Then she went back to watering pots of newly emerged sweet peas that bordered her patio.

“Do you know the nurse’s name?” I asked, as Marco took out his notebook.

She shut off the hose, casting me an annoyed glance. “It’s Diane.”

“Last name?” I persisted.

“Diane the tuna is all I know. That’s how she introduced herself.”

“Diane Rotunno?” Marco asked.

“Could be, sugar. I don’t hear so well.” She smiled at him, revealing dentures that hadn’t seen a good cleaning in quite a while.

“How did you see Diane visit Lori from your house?” I asked.

She pointed to a sliding glass door that opened onto her patio. “You see that door? I sit in front of it all morning with my coffeepot and my bagels, watching the birds come to the feeders. It’s more entertaining than those inane morning talk shows, that’s for sure.”

She sniffed indignantly and hitched up her blue stretch pants, which were having a hard time staying up on her scrawny frame. The pants matched the blue-and-green-flowered knit top under her white sweater. “Everyone cuts through these yards. Diane and Lori used to go back and forth between their houses all the time. Nowadays, not so much. But Wednesday morning I saw Diane cut across my yard and go right up to Lori’s back door. Then Lori let her inside.”

“Are you positive it was Wednesday?” I asked. “Not Tuesday?”

“Do I look like a moron to you?” she shot back, glaring at me, one hand on her hip.

Okay, I was done asking her questions.

“How long did Diane stay?” Marco asked.

Naturally, Mrs. Green wasn’t as harsh with Marco. “Now, that I can’t tell you. Phyllis always calls right about that time. Talks my ear off for an hour every morning. Talk, talk, talk, and never says nothin’ interesting. I didn’t see Diane leave, is what I’m telling you.”

“Do you know if Lori had any visitors Tuesday evening?” Marco asked.

Mrs. Green shook her head. “Can’t help you there, either. Lori’s house was dark when I went to bed. I usually watch the ten o’clock news, then hit the hay.”

“Do you know whether Lori went to work on Wednesday?” Marco asked.

“I guess she did. When I walked to the other corner at nine o’clock to wait for the geezer bus, her car wasn’t parked at the curb like it usually is. Next thing I knew, the TV news people were reporting her missing. She was a good neighbor, Lori was.”

“How long has Lori lived there?” Marco asked.

She scratched her belly. “Oh, gosh, maybe eight years? She moved in about a year after Diane did. Lots of nurses live around here. I always say if I keel over one day, my husband won’t have to look far for help.”

Marco handed her his business card. “If you remember anything else about Lori’s movements on Tuesday or Wednesday, would you give me a call?”

She pinched his cheek. “You bet your sweet behind, sugar.” She stuck her tongue out at me, then went back to watering her plants.

“Unpleasant little ferret woman,” I said, as we headed toward the sidewalk.

“She’s harmless. Let’s see if Diane’s home—if you’re up to the walk.”

I took one hand off the grasp bar of my crutch and showed Marco the impressive callus that had developed on the heel of my palm. “I’m tough. I can do it.”

“That’s my girl. I like my women—sorry,
woman
—tough.”

“You’re getting good at those saves, Salvare.”

“I get lots of practice.”

Diane lived in a tidy tan bungalow with brown shutters. It had a small front yard and a long backyard with a giant weeping willow tree in it. So as not to alarm her, we’d decided I should make the introductions, so I knocked on her front door while Marco waited at my side.

“Diane Rotunno? I’m Abby Knight—from Bloomers Flower Shop.”

“Just a minute.” Diane opened the door, leaving the chain in place, so all I saw was an eyeball and a slice of blue clothing. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here with a private investigator. We’re talking to people in the neighborhood about Lori Willis’s murder. This is Marco Salvare.” I stepped aside so Marco could show her his license.

“I’ve already given a statement to the police,” she said.

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t help our investigation,” Marco said. “We don’t have access to their files. That’s why we’re hoping you’ll share whatever information you have about Lori with us to help us narrow down our suspect list.” He kept his gaze on the eyeball. Even one-eyed, she would surely be susceptible to his charm.

“If you’re a private investigator, who’s your client?” she asked warily.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Marco said.

“It’s not Sebastian Holloway, is it?” she asked.

“No,” Marco said. “Not Sebastian Holloway or anyone associated with him.”

“How do you know Dr. Holloway?” I asked.

“I work at County Hospital. So is Holloway on your list of suspects?”

“I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer ours,” Marco said.

The eyeball moved to me, then to my crutches. Apparently deciding I couldn’t do her much harm, she unchained her door and opened it halfway. She had on a blue jogging outfit and was perspiring, as though she’d just been out for a run. She appeared to be in her midforties, brown hair tied back, no makeup, and attractive in a wholesome kind of way. “What do you want to know?”

“Why you asked about Dr. Holloway,” Marco said.

“Because if you’re serious investigators, you’d have to be looking at him as a suspect. The police didn’t want to hear what I had to say about him. All they wanted to know was whether Lori was seeing that vampire guy, and if I’d seen him around here.”

“And your answers were?” Marco asked.

“No to both questions. That didn’t make them too happy.”

“How did the police get your name?”

“They were canvassing everyone in the neighborhood,” Diane said.

“Would you tell us what you know about Dr. Holloway?” Marco asked, pulling out his notepad and pen.

She opened the door wider. “You might as well come inside. I have nosy neighbors.”

We stood in her foyer because she didn’t ask us to sit.

“Like I said, I work at County. I can’t avoid Holloway.”

“I was under the impression that you worked with Lori at Parkview,” I said.

“I did for a while. Then I moved back to County.”

I was waiting for Marco to pick up on that line of questioning, but instead he moved on.

“Tell us why you think Dr. Holloway should be a suspect,” he said.