Chapter 19
Nancy had spent the last hour and a half getting to know Diana Collins. She'd carefully read over every piece of paper in the large file Frank had printed out earlier that day. Included were newspaper clippings and two obituaries, one in the Chicago Tribune and the other in the New York Post. Neither had provided much insight. Nancy picked up the paper with the Chicago Tribune's obituary of Diana. Sad really, that a person's whole life could be reduced to a few short sentences.
Diana Collins, 35, daughter of industrialist Harvey Collins (deceased) and noted New York fashion designer Margie Collins, was gunned down in her Chicago apartment on April 2, 2002. Diana Collins, a designer for Airedale Fashions, had recently signed a lucrative deal with Wal-Mart Stores. Ms. Collins had made a name for herself in the fashion world with her eclectic mix of fashion accessories. Margie Collins, hospitalized with terminal lung cancer, was unable to comment on her daughter's untimely death. The police have no suspects at this time.
There it was, in black and white, the sum total of Diana's life. At least, what the media thought was important. And what did the police have to say? Not much. According to the police reports there had been no forced entry which meant Diana probably knew her killer … she'd let him in. Somewhere along the way things had turned ugly. Defensive wounds – cuts and bruises – on Diana's face and arms indicated she had fought with the killer.
Did that mean the killer had not gone there with the sole purpose of killing her? He'd had a gun. He could have shot her the minute he entered the apartment. He hadn't and that begged the question of why.
Had he gone there hoping to reason with Diana? Had he demanded something from her and been refused? Nancy let that idea sink in. It made the most sense. If only she knew the exact reason for the killer's visit.
Nancy scanned the papers spread across the glass table in her hotel room. She remembered the police reports had mentioned nothing was stolen or missing. Therefore, robbery wasn't a motive. The killer hadn't even bothered to make it look like a robbery.
Nancy mulled over a few ideas while tapping her chin with an index finger. There had been no forced entry and nothing stolen during Gwen's murder either.
Nancy peered at her computer. Diana's smiling face filled the screen. The color image was one of many Walter (from the Hardy Detective Agency) had sent. The caption for this photo stated it had been taken backstage at the Airedale Annual Christmas Fashion Show. Walter had sent seventeen photos in all and Nancy had skimmed through all of them several times.
However, she kept coming back to this particular photo. Something about it spoke to her, tugged at her.
Diana, wearing a fashionable blue suit and a big smile, stood with her hands on her hips looking directly at the camera. The young woman looked truly happy. The phrase, 'on top of the world' would be a perfect description for the happiness Diana exuded in this photo.
A wide scarlet belt circled her waist and the collar of a stiff white shirt stood up around her neck partly obscuring a bright blue necklace. Shiny chestnut-colored hair, cut in a blunt pageboy, fell just below her ears and followed the curve of a strong jawline. Thick bangs topped pale-colored eyes that sparkled with life. Nancy squinted and tried to determine the exact color of Diana's eyes. They could be blue, green, or hazel. It was impossible to determine from the photo.
Nancy skimmed through the photos one more time. She paid close attention to Diana's accessories. Nancy noted that Diana favored unique accessories – wide belts, colorful scarves with intricate patterns, and chunky necklaces with large geometric shapes and bright colors. Since Diana had been a jewelry designer, Nancy wondered how many of the necklaces, if any, Diana had designed herself.
Nancy pushed back from the table and rubbed her weary eyes. Fatigue was setting in. She'd been hunched over the computer or papers for far too long. She stood and stretched and caught a glimpse of the bedside clock. Good grief! It was six o'clock! How did it get so late?
Well, that explained her rumbling stomach. Where was Bess? Then Nancy remembered she'd muted her phone so she could work undisturbed. She dug it out of her handbag and discovered two missed text messages.
The first was from Frank. She chuckled softly and her mood instantly lifted. "He caught three fish, too. I can't wait to compare notes."
The second text was from Bess.
Hi Nan, Guess you're working hard. Joe just showed up & we're taking a stroll on the beach. I needed to unwind after the day I've had! Got Frank's message. We're all meeting at 7. Same place as last night. Bess
It was now a few minutes past six o'clock. Nancy had to hustle if she was going to be ready on time. Her shorts were wrinkled from sitting all day. Why not dress up a little for dinner? How about a skirt and scandals with a bit of a heel?
Thirty minutes later she opened the door to leave and got the surprise of her life. The very handsome, very rugged Frank Hardy was waiting for her. He was leaning against the far wall. He'd changed into a nice shirt and looked freshly showered and shaved. His dark hair, neatly combed, glistened and his eyes were focused, rather intently, on her and only her. Her breath caught in her throat. Did he have any idea how he made her heart race? The smile on her face might be a clue.
"Frank, you didn't tell me you were going to be waiting," she scolded playfully as he stepped forward. Her flirtatious smile softened to one of pure affection. She liked him near her.
Frank took her arm. The amorous glint in his eyes told her the skirt had been a good choice and the heels cut the distance between their lips. Frank took immediate advantage of that fact and leaned in for a quick kiss. Much too quick. It left Nancy wanting more.
He lightly nuzzled her neck and his lips moved to her ear. In a pillow-soft whisper, he teased, "I hear there's a killer in the hotel. I didn't want you walking alone. No telling what could happen."
No telling indeed. His warm breath tickled her skin and set off a wave of spine-tingling shivers that raised goose bumps along her arms. The soothing comfort of his body, brushing against hers, calmed her restless nature. She inhaled his scent. Clean, crisp, with a hint of musk.
With considerable effort, she managed to say, "It's nice to have my own personal bodyguard, not to mention we can compare notes while we walk to the restaurant."
"See, great minds think alike." Frank smiled as they strode along the hall.
The case wasn't the only thing running through Nancy's mind and she didn't think it was the only thing on Frank's mind either. But they were dedicated detectives. The job always came first. By the time they arrived at the restaurant they had discussed the case and brought each other up-to-date on their progress.
Bess and Joe were seated at a table enjoying drinks when Frank and Nancy arrived.
Joe held up a glass of beer in greeting to his brother. "I almost ordered one for you, bro."
"Good thing you didn't," Frank said and pulled Nancy's chair out for her. "I've already had two this afternoon and that's definitely enough for me." He took a seat next to Nancy and picked up the menu lying on the plate in front of him.
Joe's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Two? Already? I thought you were working the case?"
"Actually, we went fishing," Nancy said with an impish grin.
Bess was positively baffled. "Fishing?"
"Yes," Frank glanced up from his menu, "and we caught some really big fish."
Joe's expression slowly went from quizzical to comprehension. Grinning and nodding, he turned to Bess and explained, "They were doing detective work. Fishing is one of Frank's favorite tactics for drawing out the bad guys."
"And it never fails," Frank said emphatically then closed the menu and laid it down.
Joe rolled his eyes. "So you've told me many times." Before Frank could respond, Joe asked, "What did you two find on this fishing trip?"
Frank shared his observations and the conversations he'd had with the husbands. Frank's verdict was that any one of them could have committed the murder. Each man was still a suspect.
The discussion was briefly halted when the waitress arrived and took their orders.
Once the waitress was out of earshot, Nancy told the group about Parker James' meeting with the young, attractive brunette.
Bess' mouth fell open. "I can't believe it! Poor Mrs. James. She's so nice. You don't think she knows do you?"
Nancy shook her head and implored her friend, "No, and please, remember that this is all speculation at this point. I don't have any hard evidence against him. Only suspicions."
Joe let out a sarcastic snort. "Yeah, right. I wouldn't put it past him. He comes off as one smug bas―"
"Anyway," Nancy quickly interjected, "after tea with the ladies I spent the rest of the afternoon researching Diana Collins. I found out that she comes from a wealthy family. Her father died several years before she was murdered. He was an industrialist and her mother was a fashion designer. Her mother had lung cancer at the time of the murder and passed away only a few months after Diana."
The sensitive Bess, her eyes crinkled, voiced the sorrow she genuinely felt, "That's so, so sad. Did Diana have any brothers or sisters?"
"I didn't see any mentioned in the file and none were mentioned in the obituaries." Nancy shared Bess' sorrow for Diana.
Joe leaned forward, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Did Diana get an inheritance when her father died?"
The waitress approached carrying a large tray of dinner salads and Nancy and Frank's iced teas.
Nancy unfolded her napkin and laid it on her lap as the waitress placed a salad in front of her. "I don't know," she said answering Joe's question. "None of the articles or obituaries I read mentioned an inheritance, but that's a good line of reasoning and something we should pursue."
After the waitress left, Nancy continued, "I got the distinct impression Diana was forging her own career, she wasn't living off of mom and dad's money or their fame. Diana had established herself in the fashion industry and by all accounts was considered a rising star with a promising career in front of her. She had her own fashion line and a contract with Wal-Mart."
Joe picked up his fork. "Well, if we look at this case analytically, the way Frank would, or would suggest we should," Frank's brows lowered and he fixed Joe with a wary gaze, "there are four main reasons people commit murder: revenge, protection, love, and money. I think this case falls into the money category."
"And what are you basing that theory on?" Frank, with a forkful of lettuce poised and ready to eat, stared at his brother, the wary gaze intact.
"We're dealing with rich people here. Every one of them. The Airedales, the Jameses, and the others. Who wouldn't want to horn-in on that? Mark my words, money's involved somehow. You can call it a hunch, or better yet, call it Joe's intuition." He smiled gleefully and stabbed at his salad.
"Now who's being smug?" Frank said.
"Okay, you're right." Joe chuckled. "I have no clue what the motive is in this case, but money's always a safe bet."
Frank changed the subject. "Find anything at the maid's apartment?"
"As a matter of fact we did." Joe told the group about the fifty-dollar bill found on Rosita's kitchen counter. To Joe's chagrin, neither Frank nor Nancy, appeared to place much importance on the money. "Don't you see?" he said. "The killer might've touched that bill. We can get fingerprints."
Frank pushed his empty salad plate to the side. "That's a possibility. I think it's more likely to be grocery money."
Joe nudged his brother's arm with an elbow and grinned. "See, money's involved. We can't get away from the money angle."
Frank rolled his eyes then shocked Joe by saying, "I liked your idea about an inheritance better. Actually, I like it so much I'm going to pursue that line of investigation tonight. What we need to find out is, who, if anyone, benefited from Diana's death?"
Joe was stunned. It wasn't often his older brother announced he liked one of his ideas, let alone planned to follow up on it. Eager to ride this wave of euphoria, Joe offered another suggestion, "Maybe Diana was murdered so someone else could move up the ladder of success?"
"Maybe." Frank stared straight ahead and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Bess was perplexed and didn't mind showing it. "But what about Gwen? How does Diana's murder relate to Gwen's murder?"
Joe had an answer. "Maybe she's the one who benefited from Diana's death." He looked at Nancy. "Didn't you say that Gwen was considered an up and coming designer, too?"
"I did." Nancy inclined her head. "Are you thinking someone killed Diana so Gwen could advance up the career ladder?"
Frank gave an emphatic shake of his head. "That doesn't fit with the facts we've uncovered. Diana was killed shortly after she started working at Airedale Fashions. Gwen was working at Frazer and Frazer when Diana was killed and continued to work at Frazer and Frazer for two whole years after Diana's death."
Nancy provided more sobering facts. "Very true, Diana was killed April 2, 2002. Gwen didn't even start working at Airedale's until June 2004 so it doesn't seem she could've benefited from Diana's death."
Bess sighed with a disheartened pout. "None of it makes any sense to me."
"No, it doesn't," Nancy said, "but then, murder rarely does."
Nancy changed the subject and asked Joe, "How's Rosita? Any change? Any word on when she might come out of the coma?"
Joe's expression was glum. "No. She's no worse which is good, but the doctors don't have any idea when she'll wake up. You know what surprises me? Butch."
"Butch?" Frank was instantly all ears. "The guard? What about him?"
"He's a walking zombie," Joe said, "I don't think he's slept in over a day. He's really concerned and really protective of Rosita. He's been at the hospital non-stop just watching over her and guarding her. Anybody who wants to get to Rosita will have to go through him first. And that's a heck of a guy to go through. He's built like a Sherman tank."
Light chuckles erupted around the table.
Frank's smile faded and a frown rose in its place. "A Sherman tank that owes me two hundred dollars."
Bess and Nancy's curious expressions prompted Frank to explain about the bet he'd made on the day of his and Joe's ocean dive.
"Well, Frank," Joe said scooping up the last of his salad, "you'll be happy to know Butch and I talked about that."
"Really? When do I get my money?"
Joe chewed, swallowed and wiped his mouth before answering. "Sorry, I told him to keep it." He reached for his beer thinking, here it comes.
"You did what? Why'd you do that? I made that bet fair and square and we found the weapon just like I said we would."
Yep, there it was, right on cue. Frank's temper. Joe finished sipping his beer, sat down the glass and said, "I noticed you said we in that last sentence. Did you notice that? 'We found the weapon.' And we probably wouldn't have found it if I hadn't suggested reenacting the scene. Remember that part?"
Frank glared at his brother, his jaw twitching something fierce.
"I'll take that as a yes." Joe smiled and patted Frank's shoulder. "Don't worry, bro. The money's going to a good cause."
"Huh? How's that?" Frank's brow knotted in confusion.
"Butch told me he's been in contact with Rosita's mother who lives in California with Rosita's two younger sisters. The mother would really like to come out here and be with her daughter when she wakes up. The doctors have told Butch it would be best if a family member stayed with Rosita and watched over her when she's released from the hospital. The family's not rich as you might've guessed and they can't afford a plane ticket to fly mom out here. So, I thought about it a bit and told Butch to consider that two hundred dollars as our contribution towards a plane ticket."
Bess leaned over and planted a kiss on Joe's unsuspecting cheek. "Why Joe, that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard! I want to make a contribution, too."
"So do I," Nancy seconded.
Joe's cheeks turned a faint pink and his blue eyes twinkled in the afterglow of Bess' impromptu kiss which had been a very pleasant surprise.
Frank squeezed Joe's shoulder. "You did good little brother. I'm proud of you. Sorry I got a little hot under the collar about the money."
"No problem," Joe answered, "I love watching your face turn that weird shade of purple."
Frank chuckled good-naturedly. He could take a little ribbing and he'd expect nothing less from his brother. Besides, the money was going to a good cause. He certainly couldn't complain.
Nancy, thinking about Rosita's situation, said, "Maybe we can help even more. I can go online and check the daily flights from California to Hawaii. I'll print out the information." She pointed at Joe. "You can give it to Butch and Rosita's mother. She can decide which flight she wants and let us know. Once we have the information I'll go online and book the flight using our credit cards. That way, she doesn't have to worry about the fare."
"That an awesome idea," Joe said, "I'll phone Butch after dinner and tell him our plan. I'm sure he'll appreciate the help."
Salad plates were cleared and the good mood everyone felt continued with the arrival of their food. As the waitress deftly handed out entrees Frank touched Nancy's arm and discreetly pointed. "Our suspects."
Nancy followed the direction Frank indicated. She spotted all three couples, the Westins, Jameses, and Mansvilles being seated at a table near the windows.
Over entrees Bess shared the events of her day and all the hard work of getting ready for Friday's fashion show. Nancy only half listened as she ate, not really tasting her food, and it wasn't the food's fault. She had a juicy steak grilled to perfection and topped with sautéed onions. Nancy's mind was elsewhere, on the three couples seated a few tables away.
Although they were a mere six people, they formed a microcosm of humanity. Each person was a unique representation of the human race. Each person was interesting, and a veritable study in contrasts. Each person was made up of hidden layers, layers that defined who they were based on individual life experiences, personal trials and tribulations. Each person stood as an example of good, or evil, and one of them was a killer. Of that Nancy was certain. She didn't know which one yet, but given time she would.
Nancy took a bite of her steak and onions. She savored the earthy flavor and the sweet tang of onion. Her mind quickly returned to those six people. If only she could peel back their layers, like an onion, and look beneath the exterior to what lay beneath. Then she'd unearth the real individual lurking inside and discover their true motives.
Parker James was smiling and laughing as he sipped a glass of wine. On the surface he was handsome. His good looks paired nicely with his muscular body. The sprinkling of gray in his short brown hair wouldn't deter a younger woman, especially one looking for a rich husband. If anything, it made him more appealing. He appeared established, stable … safe.
However, peel back the layers and what would you find? A cheating spouse. Underneath he was deceitful and dishonest. If he was capable of cheating so casually on his wife, could he also commit murder? How far would Parker go to cover up his extramarital affairs? Would he murder to keep his indiscretions hidden?
His manner tonight was very solicitous. The occasional affectionate arm around his wife's shoulders. A tender touch of her hand. He matched each of her smiles with one of his own. But the icing on the cake was the feather-light kisses he deposited on her cheek.
Oh gag me, Nancy thought with an involuntary sneer. And for heaven's sakes, it seemed to be working, poor Paula was practically glowing.
Nancy took another bite of her steak and switched her gaze to Chase Westin. Slim and trim, also good looking. Frank had touched a nerve in Chase this afternoon. What secret, or secrets, was he hiding? He'd gone out of his way to be evasive. Did he in fact have ties to both murder victims? If so, he wouldn't be pleased at having that fact revealed. What really lay beneath his charming exterior? He too, was being overly solicitous of his wife tonight. What was up with these husbands? Guilty consciences?
Then there was John Mansville. On the surface he appeared to be the classic, older, distinguished gentleman. Nancy studied his expression. He didn't seem to be in a good mood tonight. His smile was forced, his eyes wary, almost angry at times. Why?
"A penny for your thoughts," Frank said breaking into Nancy's reverie.
Nancy wiped her lips with her napkin and smiled. "It'll cost you a lot more than a penny."
"Hey, I just lost out on two hundred bucks. I'm a little short tonight. Can you take pity on a guy?"
Their eyes met, his searching for answers, wondering what she'd been thinking about so intently.
"I was studying our suspects," Nancy said.
Frank followed Nancy's quick glance at the couples enjoying their meals. "They're a very interesting group," he said under his breath.
"Yes, they are." Nancy's gaze returned to the three couples.
# # # #
After dinner, Bess said, "Oh, I see the wives are here. If you guys will excuse me for a minute I'd like to tell them they can pick up their VIP passes for the fashion show anytime they like tomorrow. I know they'll appreciate getting them a day ahead of everyone else."
"I'll go with you," Nancy said.
Frank and Joe were left to pay the bill.
Nancy and Bess strode to the couples' table. Bess explained about the passes while Nancy admired the wives' jewelry. Perhaps, because she'd spent the afternoon studying Diana Collins' unusual assortment of jewelry, Nancy was attracted to necklaces tonight. Barbara Westin had a particularly interesting one.
"That's a stunning necklace you're wearing," Nancy told Barbara. "Is it lapis lazuli?"
"Yes, it is. You have a good eye." Barbara lightly touched the distinctive blue stones. She gave her husband a look of genuine affection and said, "It was the very first gift Chase ever gave me. It's one of a kind, numbered by the jeweler."
"It's beautiful. You're a very lucky lady." Nancy glanced from Barbara to her husband.
Chase scooped his wife's hand up and kissed it lightly. "And I'm a very lucky man." Nancy turned her attention to Paula. "Your necklace is stunning, too. Are those garnets?"
"Jade," Paula corrected with a look of pride. "A gift from my dear husband as well." Paula blessed Parker with an overly sweet smile which he returned with one of his own. "I'm mad about jewelry," Paula told Nancy, "you know my fashion line is all about accessories. That's actually how Parker and I met. He was in the fashion business himself. He worked with accessories at one time."
"Is that so?" One of Nancy's brows rose ever so slightly.
"He offers me advice from time to time." Paula smiled at her husband again. "However, I usually don't take his advice." She laughed and everyone else did, too.
After the laughter died down, Kate joked, "Well, don't leave me out. You must admire my necklace, too, Nancy."
"Of course." Nancy approached for a closer look and was stunned by what she saw. "Are those real diamonds?"
"They are." Kate wore a satisfied smile.
Nancy, asked John Mansville, "A gift from you?"
John nodded. "You bet your bottom dollar and she's worth every penny." He slid an arm around Kate's shoulders and placed a quick peck on her tanned cheek.
Parker James lifted his wine glass. "I'd say this calls for a toast."
His fellow diners lifted their drinks and Parker said, "To our lovely wives. May we be blessed with their company for many years to come."
As Nancy and Bess left the couples, Nancy wondered how many happy years those couples had in store for them.
# # # #
Nancy, Frank, Joe, and Bess took a leisurely stroll around the hotel to walk off their dinner. They did some window shopping and discussed the fashion show. Tomorrow was Thursday, the last day before the show, and it promised to be another busy day for Bess. She admitted to feeling overwhelmed by the vast array of tasks awaiting her in the morning. Fittings for models, runway rehearsals, setting up dressing rooms and hair and make-up stations. Then finalizing seating arrangements for VIP guests.
"I'm sorry," Bess said. "It's going to be another early night for me. But once the fashion show is over, I promise, we can enjoy the beach and a late night."
"You sound like you're apologizing," Joe said.
"Maybe I am."
"No need to," Frank said. "I'm anxious to do some digging into Diana's background. My night will be spent in front of a computer in my room, not on the beach."
He smiled at Bess and she felt relieved. Her friends were just as busy as she was.
Frank had questions that needed answers. Did Diana gain financially by her father's death? Did she have relatives? Did anyone benefit from her death?
Joe said he wanted to call Butch and inform him of the group's offer to assist with the plane fare. He would also tell Butch that they would like to help Rosita's family in other ways, too. Maybe they could have food in the apartment, ready for the family when they came. All agreed this was a good idea.
Nancy and Bess said good-night to the guys and headed for their room.
When Nancy crawled into bed later that night, she had a nagging feeling she'd missed something important. For the life of her she couldn't say what it was. She racked her brain hoping for a glimmer of recognition. It was no use, she was too tired. Perhaps, it would come to her during the night.
She switched off the bedside lamp and pulled the covers over her.
Sleep, and perchance to dream, she thought as a yawn overtook her. She closed her eyes and snuggled her head against the pillow.
# # # #
He thought of Gwen's untimely death and felt a momentary twinge of regret. It passed quickly. Her death had been inevitable. She'd seen too much and known too much. Unfortunately, she knew everything about him. One day she might have turned on him. Told all she knew. Revealed his secret.
Gwen had been a risk, an intrusive distraction, for seven long years. Well, no more and good riddance. Now only the maid stood in his way.
"Thank you Frank Hardy for sharing that piece of information," he mumbled softly to the starry night sky. "But don't doubt for a minute that I didn't see it for what it was. A trap." A soft chuckle. "I bet you thought I would run right to the hospital. Not on your life. What do you take me for? A fool? No, I'll bide my time, play your game. That maid isn't waking up anytime soon … if she wakes up at all."
He scowled and his brow formed an angry V. A chilly breeze blew off the ocean and ruffled his shirt. Waves crashed onto the volcanic outcrop and sent up a fine mist. The moist spray and its salty scent filled his nostrils. This is where he'd thrown that damn gun into the ocean. He'd thought that was the end of it. No one would ever be able to make the connection to Diana Collins.
How in the hell had Frank Hardy found the gun? More importantly, how had he known where to look?
Realization hit him like a slap in the face. Hardy must have been here that night. Hidden somewhere. He spun around and scanned the area. He spied the tall, flowering bushes beside the metal stairs. There, he thought, Hardy had been hidden there. Not that this knowledge helped him one bit, because it didn't. The damage was done. It didn't even matter why Hardy had been here.
Maybe, he thought, he should cut his losses. Leave now while he could. No good-byes. Just board a plane and disappear. It seemed the wisest choice at first. However, his brain warned, don't be rash, those detectives are grasping at straws. They have no idea who the killer is. That's the reason for the cat-and-mouse games. They're hoping you'll screw-up. Actually, they're counting on it.
Don't fall for it. Don't be a fool.
His cell phone buzzed, yanking him from his dark thoughts. Probably his wife. He'd promised her he'd take no more long strolls and here he was. He'd abandoned her again. Not good for appearances or waylaying suspicions. He pressed the talk button before it registered with him that the caller was not his wife.
"Hello," he said. Cautious, yet casual. What in the world did this person want?
A moment later he pressed the end button and stared at his phone as if it could explain the strange call. Very curious to say the least. He shook his head and headed into the hotel.
A/N: Thank you dear readers for the reviews. They are much appreciated and a joy to read. I see some of you have guesses as to who the murderer is. Things are starting to unravel now. ;)