Chapter 18
Nancy sat in the Sunrise Café grumbling under her breath. She'd gone along with Frank's plan, but she wasn't completely on board with his 'fishing expedition' as she called it. Frank was taking the direct approach and was off searching for one of their suspects. Nancy had chosen Frank's let them come to you approach. He'd been adamant it would work.
Nancy had found him quite sexy when he'd smiled at her, a roguish smile that she hadn't seen before, and said, "Just wait and see, Nan. You won't have to do a thing. They'll walk right up to you and ask about the case. It's a sure bet. Never fails."
Well, ha! She'd been sitting here for over thirty minutes and not one suspect had approached her. She was near the café's entrance, right next to the large opening that overlooked the wide corridor lined with hotel shops. Anyone walking by could see her, it wasn't like she was hiding. Far from it.
Nancy let out a heavy sigh. All this waiting. She hated waiting. And what did she have to show for it? A cold cup of coffee and a stale muffin.
"So much for fishing," she grumbled as her brow creased in frustration.
Frank's face, with that roguish smile, came to mind. That smile, coupled with his brown eyes glowing like hot coals, had been very appealing. It had induced her to agree to his plan.
Nancy stared into space, absent-mindedly drumming her fingers on the side of her coffee cup. Never in a million years would she have thought of Frank as wicked or devilish. Yet those were synonyms for roguish. Hmm, this was a new side of Frank. One she was eager to explore. When time permitted.
Oh dear, her mind had wandered far from the case although Diana Collins' file lay on the table in front of her.
Wait! What was that? Nancy came back to the present in time to spot the muscular Parker James strolling along the corridor. He appeared nervous – no, make that cautious. His blue eyes darted all over the place.
Nancy moved her chair close to the fake plant beside her table, hid behind it, and peered over the smooth edge of a long, drooping leaf.
There Parker was, his back to her, looking in the window of a souvenir shop. He was biding his time, trying to appear aloof. However, he kept glancing over his shoulder and Nancy got the distinct impression he was waiting for someone.
A quick check of his watch and another glance to the left. He checked his phone and frowned. Hoping for a message? Another glance left and suddenly a smile. Oh, what a charming smile, too. It could set a heart fluttering. Parker drew himself up and stood straighter. He was sure of himself now. She had come.
Nancy's eyes widened and her mouth formed an 'O' because she was not his wife. No, this was a pretty, young brunette with a curvy body and shapely, exercise-hardened, legs. And she looked as delighted to see Parker as he did to see her.
Nancy sank into her chair and watched as the couple chatted for a few minutes. Could the brunette's smile get any brighter or wider?
She was really into him, Nancy thought and shook her head in disgust. Did Parker's wife know what he was up to?
Nancy moved the leaf aside in time to see Parker squeeze the young woman's hand and point to the right. The woman nodded and off they went to parts unknown.
As the couple strolled away, Nancy pondered the very real possibility that Parker James was cheating on his wife. This was merely an opinion, Nancy reminded herself, not a fact. She could not afford to jump to conclusions, especially in a murder investigation.
Nevertheless, she wrote down her observation and noted the time. 3:40pm.
"Nancy Drew! See Barbara, I told you it was Nancy."
Nancy's head snapped up and she found herself staring into the smiling faces of Paula James and Barbara Westin. Nancy returned the smile and invited them to join her. Secretly, Nancy thanked the heavens. How fortuitous of Paula James to show up. Perhaps with the proper questions, Nancy get could some answers about Parker's activities today and if they included a young brunette.
Paula and Barbare, saddled with purchases, accepted Nancy's invitation. They deposited their shopping bags on, and around, the empty fourth chair.
Nancy mentally chalked up one point for Frank. Two of their suspects had just walked right up to her.
Paula heaved her ample frame into the chair across from Nancy and let out a fatigued sigh. A waitress appeared and all three women ordered mango iced teas. Nancy was happy to ditch the cold coffee and stale muffin.
Eyeing the pile of shopping bags, Nancy asked cheerfully, "So, what have you ladies been up to today?"
Barbara Westin removed a small compact from her purse and viewed her hair and make-up. "We had a wonderful time checking out all the stores. I wish Kate could've joined us, but she was too busy going over last minute details for the fashion show with your friend Bess. I say it's her loss." She smiled at her reflection and shut the compact. "I found a lovely dress for Friday's show and Paula found a beautiful strand of natural pearls. Paula show them to Nancy. They're stunning."
The next few minutes were spent discussing the merits of one store versus another and what items the women had bought for the fast approaching fashion show. It appeared that something 'new' was called for when attending a show. The iced teas arrived and the women quietly enjoyed their refreshments.
It was Paula who inclined her head toward the stack of papers and notepad on the table and asked, "Are you working on the case, Nancy?"
Nancy had flipped down the cover of the notepad when the women arrived. Inwardly, she groaned. Chalk up another point for Frank. One of the suspects had just asked about the case. Why not go with it? This was the perfect opportunity to find out more about Parker James, too.
"Yes, I am working on the case." Nancy rested an elbow on the table and gave the women a look that said this is just between the three of us. The women, eager to hear about the case, leaned forward. "Maybe you two can help me out."
"Oh, of course." Excitement shone in Paula small brown eyes.
"Yes, we'd love to help," Barbara added.
Nancy kept her voice low, "I don't mean to alarm either of you, but the killer is still on the loose and he's still in the hotel."
Paula and Barbara traded worried glances.
"I don't like the sound of that," Paula said her brow knotting together.
"Neither do I," Barbara said. "Please tell us you're close to catching this maniac, Nancy. And how can you be sure the killer's still here?"
"We are very close to catching him – or her." Nancy then told Barbara and Paula about the brutal attack on the maid. "You see, the maid knows something about the killer. Unfortunately, we have to wait until she comes out of her coma to find out what it is."
Barbara patted Nancy's hand. "You said that maybe we could help. How? I certainly didn't know the maid."
Nancy had her story ready. "Everything revolves around Diana Collins. We've discovered that she and Gwen Airedale worked at Frazer and Frazer during the same timeframe. Later, both women got jobs at Airedale Fashions, though they did not work there at the same time. The unnerving part of the story is that both women were murdered shortly after they came to work for Airedale Fashions. I find that a strange coincidence and not in a good way. That's why I'd like to hear anything either of you can tell me about Diana Collins."
The next fifteen minutes proved fruitful. Barbara and Paula had not known Diana Collins very well. She'd worked less than six months at Airedale Fashions before her untimely death.
Paula recalled that Diana had designed jewelry. "Diana started just before the big Christmas fashion show. She created some beautiful pieces for Airedale's Christmas collection."
"That's right," Barbara said, "and she was creating pieces for the upcoming spring collection, too. But … well, she was murdered before she finished designing those pieces."
Paula shook her head sadly. "Killed in her apartment, I heard. Very tragic."
Nancy read from her notes. "She was killed early April 2002."
Barbara nodded. "Yes, that sounds right. The spring show is always at the end of April. I think Diana's completed pieces were shown and I can tell you, she had promise. She was a very talented young woman. She would've gone far in the fashion industry."
The women talked a few more minutes as they finished their tea. No new information regarding Diana Collins came to light. Paula and Barbara got ready to leave. They collected their bags while Nancy gathered her notepad and the stack of papers.
Nancy hadn't worked Parker into the conversation yet. It was now or never. As casually as possible, Nancy said, "So, while you two have enjoyed an afternoon of shopping, what have your husbands been up to?"
Barbara gave a soft disparaging chuckle. "Let's see. What time is it?" She made an elaborate show of checking her expensive wristwatch. "Mmmm, almost four-thirty, well I don't know what he did earlier, but my husband should be cozying up to a bar right about now."
Nancy was speechless.
Paula quickly said, "My husband's an exercise nut. Weights, running, tennis. You name it, he does it. Parker's probably out doing something physical. I should follow his example, but I like food, too much." She giggled softly.
Nancy willed her face to remain impassive. Oh, Parker was probably doing something very physical right now.
Barbara gently took her friend's arm. "Time to go, Paula. I want to sort through my purchases, relax a little, and take a bath before dinner." She turned to Nancy. "It was nice talking to you, Nancy. Good luck with the case."
Barbara propelled Paula toward the exit. Nancy waited until the women were out of sight and then sat down at the table. She took out her phone and texted Frank.
I caught three fish. How many did you catch? She added her observation of Parker James meeting a young woman.
Nancy smiled as she gathered up her items and headed to her room. She needed some quiet time alone to really dig into Diana Collins' file and the best place to do that was in the solitude of her hotel room.
# # # #
Frank stared at the small screen on his phone. Three?! He hadn't even had a nibble. He needed to step up his game. Suddenly, he spied Chase Westin headed into the Maui Bar and Lounge. Frank quickened his pace and entered the bar.
Chase took a seat at the bar.
Frank came up beside him and said, "Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all. What's your pleasure?" Chase shifted on the bar stool, getting comfortable.
"A beer." Frank settled himself on the stool next to Chase.
A bartender appeared and Chase ordered for both of them. Frank surveyed his surroundings. The bar had an English feel to it. Very upper-crust, especially the dark and gloomy, U-shaped mahogany bar. Small mahogany tables dotted the interior. In keeping with the English theme, two large windows gave on to a view of a beautiful rose garden.
The drinks arrived, a snifter of brandy for Chase, a frosted glass for Frank. The bartender expertly poured the chilled beer and produced a perfect frothy head.
Frank took a pull of his beer and thought about how to question Chase. Frank decided to take a gamble, to get right to the heart of the matter. "So, you worked at Frazer and Frazer Designs." It wasn't exactly a question. It sounded more like a statement of fact.
A flicker of suspicion flashed in Chase's brown eyes and displeasure tainted his voice. "You checking on everyone?" It wasn't an admission, but it wasn't an outright denial either.
So far, so good, Frank thought. "Yes, I am checking on everyone. It appears that you worked at Frazer and Frazer Designs at the same time as Gwen. Gwen Hughes Airedale."
Chase froze, his snifter raised to his lips, his jaw clenched. He stared at Frank. Chase did not seem happy or pleased with the topic of conversation.
On closer inspection, Frank realized Chase's eyes were greenish-brown and glittered with nasty flecks of annoyance.
"Oh, and you were there at the same time as Diana Collins." Frank watched subtle hostility wash over Chase's face and his jaw clench tighter.
"Wh..who?"
The slight stammer didn't escape Frank's keen observation.
"Diana Collins," Frank repeated. He never took his eyes off Chase's face.
Chase placed his untouched drink on the bar. His hand stayed wrapped around the glass. His eyes narrowed. "Am I supposed to know her? Diana?" Irritation laced his voice and his tone had become challenging.
"Yes, I think you are." Frank rested an arm on the bar. "Or, to be more accurate, I think you knew her. Past tense. She's dead … murdered." He leaned closer to Chase and lowered his voice, "The interesting thing is, she was murdered with the same weapon as Gwen Airedale. We found it, my brother and me. We fished it out of the ocean."
Chase's hand tightened around his drink and his eyes went deadly cold. "Is there a point to this .. to this conversation?" He glared at Frank.
"Yes, there is and I'll get right to it. How well did you know Diana Collins?"
"Like I said, I didn't know her." Venom laced Chase's words.
"Actually, you never said you didn't know her. You asked if you were supposed to know her."
Chase turned his body so that he faced Frank. "Well then, let me be very clear. I'm telling you right now, I didn't know her."
"I find that hard to believe. The two of you worked at the same company for quite a while." Frank was making all of this, but Chase didn't know that. Frank's feelings were, let him deny the accusations or tell him me I'm wrong.
Chase grabbed his drink, downed it in one swift gulp, and slammed the empty glass on the bar. "This conversation is over." He glowered at Frank, rose and added, "Oh, and get this straight, I never said I worked at .. at whatever the name of that place was. I don't appreciate people putting words in my mouth."
Frank had to think fast, his quarry was getting away. "Well then, you're probably not interested in the maid either."
Chase had taken two steps. He stopped dead in his tracks, his back to Frank.
Got him! Frank grinned as he took a sip of his beer.
Chase turned slowly. Confidence radiated off of him. His chin jutted up and he gave a derisive snort. "I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to ask, 'And what about the maid?' Right?"
Frank flashed a satisfied smile. "Yep."
"Okay, I'll bite. What about the maid?"
Frank turned back to the bar and took another sip of beer acting as though he'd lost interest in the conversation. "It's nothing important," he said with forced indifference. "I don't want to waste your time."
"Too late for that." In two quick strides brought Chase to Frank side. Chase's voice was rough and hard, "Let's not play games, Hardy. If you have something to say to me, then you'd damned well better say it."
Frank held up his hands. "Whoa. Hold on. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you all worked up. I just wanted to tell you that the maid is fine and she'll be able to answer questions in a few days. Of course, this has nothing to do with you as you've made perfectly clear. Sorry, my mistake."
"Got that right." Anger burned in Chase's eyes for a second then faded like the setting sun. An uncomfortable silence hung between the men as they stared at each other.
Finally, Chase shot Frank one last piercing glare and strode away. Frank could almost feel the man's bristling anger as he headed for the exit.
The bartender's voice drew Frank's attention. "Is he coming back?"
"I don't think so." Frank pulled a twenty from his pocket and laid it on the bar. "This should take care of both drinks."
"It will. Thanks." The bartender picked up Chase's empty snifter and the cash. He dropped the snifter in a tub of soapy water under the counter and went to wait on other customers.
At the far end of the bar, a tall figure emerged from the shadows. John Mansville had sat hidden behind an obese customer and had witnessed the entire exchange between Frank and Chase Westin. Mansville now made his way to Frank and slid onto the stool vacated by Chase. Mansville raised his glass to the bartender signaling he wanted another.
He turned to Frank and said, "Well, you sure got quite a rise out of Westin."
Frank was mildly surprised by his new companion. "Yeah, well, that wasn't entirely my intention."
"Detective work?" Mansville probed.
The bartender placed a fresh drink in front of Mansville and took away the old one.
Frank decided to be vague. "Yeah." He took a sip of beer and avoided eye contact. He hoped, and wanted, John Mansville to lead the conversation. Let's see what he's after, Frank thought.
The bartender set a bowl of peanuts between the men. Mansville scooped out a handful.
"Aaah," Mansville said munching, "two of my favorites, peanuts and a gin and tonic."
Frank eyed Mansville's highball glass filled with ice, clear liquid, and a lime wedge. "Your favorite, huh?"
"Yep." A sage smile lit up the older man's face. He adjusted his wire-rim eyeglasses and peered at Frank. "As you get older your tastes change .. develop .. deepen." He nodded at Frank's drink. "It won't always be beer. As you age, you come to appreciate the finer things in life. And a gin and tonic is one of the finer things in life." He lifted his glass and took an appreciative sip.
"Tonic water," Frank said. "Which once contained significant amounts of quinine. Quinine was used to combat malaria. Maybe that's where the phrase, 'Drink to your health' came from."
Mansville considered Frank's comment. "Very esoteric way of looking at things." He lifted an eyebrow. "It probably makes you a formidable detective."
"I certainly hope so."
Mansville scooped more peanuts from the bowl and popped a few in his mouth. "So, what can you tell me about the investigation or is that topic off-limits?"
"Not much." Then Frank reconsidered and added, "Actually, as I mentioned to Mr. Westin, it looks like the maid will recover in a day or two and be able to identify the killer."
"The maid?" Was Mansville more interested in this topic?
"Yes, the one who was bashed over the head and left for dead." Frank met John Mansville's steady gaze.
Mansville broke the gaze with a disinterested, "Oh." His attention returned to the peanuts in his hand.
It wasn't the response Frank was hoping for. Was Mansville interested in the maid or not? Did he already know about the maid being hit over the head? But how could he? That news had not been released to the press or announced in the hotel.
Dammit, Frank thought, he's not giving me much to work with. Does he know something or not?
Okay, time to cast out fresh bait.
Frank cleared his throat. "Yeah, she wasn't hurt as badly as the killer suspected. The doctors say she'll be good as new in a few days."
"Huh? Oh, the maid. Yes, well that is good news. Really good news for you .. for the investigators I mean. Maybe this case can be wrapped up by the time the fashion show ends. I know that would make Lance happy."
Mansville continued munching on peanuts. His mood seemed pensive.
"Yes," Frank said, "and we'll solve two murders, not just one."
This roused Mansville's attention. "What do you mean two murders?"
Suddenly, a strong hand gripped each man's shoulder. "Aha! Caught you!"
Frank and Mansville jerked their heads round and stared at the smiling face of Parker James.
"Looks like a good way to spend the afternoon gentlemen. Care if I join you?" Parker asked.
"Not at all. Let's move to a table," Mansville suggested.
Moments later, the three men were comfortably seated at one of the mahogany tables in a quiet corner. Frank poured his second beer, Parker poured his first, and John Mansville retained his gin and tonic.
Parker lifted his glass to his lips and Frank watched the muscles bulge beneath the sleeves of his silk Hawaiian shirt. Parker's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he took a long drag of the icy beer.
Parker sat his glass down and wiped his mouth with a cocktail napkin. "That's just what the doctor ordered. How goes the case, Hardy? You and that pretty Miss Drew ever find out any more information on Gwen?"
Mansville answered before Frank could, "Hold on a minute Parker, Frank here was just about to tell me how they're going to solve two murders instead of one. I'd like him to elaborate."
Frank cleared his throat. "Ahem, to put it simply, Gwen Airedale and Diana Collins were killed with the same weapon." Frank went on and told how he and Joe had found the murder weapon in the ocean. He also said that ballistics tests confirmed the weapon had been used to kill Gwen and Diana Collins.
John Mansville stared at Frank as if he could discern more information simply by studying Frank's face. Frank ignored the intense scrutiny.
Parker also stared at Frank. Or was that a glare? "You're kidding," he finally scoffed with a frown. "The actual murder weapon? In the ocean?"
Mansville frowned and shook his head as though something didn't quite sit right with him. However, he did not share his thoughts. Frank remembered how agitated Mansville had become during their previous meeting when Diana Collins' name had been mentioned. Frank would've loved to know what the older man was thinking at that moment.
It was time to go fishing again. Frank rested his arms on the table. "Mr. James, Mr. Mansville, I've learned that both Gwen and Diana worked at Frazer and Frazer Designs. I was wondering how long the two of you worked at Frazer and Frazer Designs."
The question brought both men up short. Both appeared surprised. Confusion and anger shrouded Mansville's face. "What the hell are you talking about Hardy?"
Parker held up a hand to silence Mansville. "It's okay, John. I see our detective has done his homework. They must be checking everyone. I don't deny it, I worked there, but what's that got to do with the murders?"
"Are you a fool, Parker?" Mansville declared. "Can't you see? I'm no Sherlock Holmes but even I can put two and two together. Gwen and Diana both worked at Frazer and Frazer before they came to Airedale Fashions and now they're both dead, killed by the same weapon. It's not hard to figure out what Hardy's insinuating."
Understanding dawned upon Parker and he stared a bit dumbfounded at Frank. "What? You think the killer worked at Frazer and Frazer with Gwen and Diana? You think he was there when they were? Well, that clears me then. I worked there well over fifteen years ago, long before either Gwen or Diana. Heck, fifteen years ago they would've been what .. twelve .. or fifteen years old. Hell, I didn't even work there that long."
"As for me," Mansville said, an undercurrent of anger in his voice, "you need to check your facts better. I never worked there. I retired from the military, the Army. And as I see it, this makes Lance your best suspect. He knew both women. He hired both women. They both wound up dead after their association with him. I hope you're looking at him."
"We are," Frank said. "Of course, the maid may solve this whole case for us when she wakes up and can answer our questions." He kept his eyes on Parker, wanting to see his reaction.
"Maid?" the man asked.
Frank related the story of the maid's attack. For the life of him, Frank would swear Parker showed genuine surprise. Either that or he was a darn good actor.
It was after five-thirty when Frank left the bar and texted Nancy.
Dinner at 7? I caught three, too. We need to compare notes. F.
A/N: Thank you kindly for the reviews. I love hearing that my writing style is easy to read and makes the chapters fly by. I love that people are trying to figure out who the murderer is or have a guess as to who it is.