Chapter 20

Nancy's eyes flew open, her heart was pounding. She took several deep breaths to calm herself. Morning sunlight filtered into the room from between the slit in the drapes. Bess' bed was empty and the room was quiet. Nancy had gone to bed with something bugging her, something nipping at the edge of her mind, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. That something had come to her. Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.

She kicked off the covers and got out of bed. The bedside clock read six o'clock. She had to see Frank. With all the extra software he had on his computer, he should be able to do exactly what she wanted. Then, and only then, would she be certain the puzzle pieces fit together correctly.

In a hurry now, Nancy pulled on running shorts and a tank top. She ran a brush through her hair and pulled it into a ponytail. She grabbed her cell phone off the bedside table and punched in Frank's number. While she waited for him to answer she shoved her feet into flip-flops.

# # # #

Frank opened the door of his room before Nancy had a chance to knock. He wore dark blue shorts and a white t-shirt. He was barefooted and his hair could use a comb. He yawned into his fist as Nancy entered the room.

She noticed dark circles under his eyes. "You don't look like you got much sleep last night."

"Didn't." He closed the door quietly, put a finger to his lips, and pointed at Joe's bed. "Still asleep," he whispered.

Oh, Nancy mouthed. There was a messy mound of covers on the closest bed. Nancy assumed Joe was buried under there somewhere.

In a whisper, she asked Frank, "What did you find out?"

Frank waved her over to the glass table where his computer was set-up. He offered her a bottled water which she accepted. She dropped her handbag on one of the chairs and twisted the cap off the water bottle. Both she and Frank sat at the table.

Frank tapped some keys on his computer, turned to Nancy, and whispered, "I've been on the computer, or on the phone, all night researching Diana Collins. I've had help from Walter at the Hardy Detective Agency. We've discovered that Diana's mother, Margie, was married three times. The first marriage was when she was very young and didn't last long."

Nancy sipped her water.

Frank picked up a sheet of paper on the table, his notes, looked it over and said, "We all know about the third marriage to industrialist Harvey Collins. Diana was the only child of that marriage. It's the second marriage that's interesting. Margie's second husband was Edward Kelliher, a self-made millionaire and CEO of a small airline in upper-state New York. Margie and Ed married in '56 and divorced in '64. The interesting part is, they had a child, a son. I found the birth record. The son was born in 1960."

Nancy blinked at Frank, her eyes wide. "That would make him about 49 now. Right?" Frank nodded and Nancy said, "What's his name? I'm assuming he's still alive."

"He is. It took some work tracking him down. He's changed his name a number of times over the years."

"Run-ins with the law?" Nancy guessed.

"Yup. Nothing major, mostly burglaries. In his late teens and early twenties he had a bad habit of robbing his rich neighbors and friends. I hate to say this. Actually, it pains me to say this, but Joe was right. This case is definitely about money."

The mound of covers suddenly came to life and a muffled voice said, "I heard that."

Nancy and Frank burst into laughter.

"Did we woke you?" Frank asked.

"No." Joe sat up and rubbed his eyes. The covers fell to his lap. He was nude from the waist up. "Just tell me how this all relates to our suspects and victims."

Nancy was treated to a nice view of Joe's impressive biceps and pecs. Not a bad way to start the morning. Also a nice reminder of the day she found Frank and Joe lying on the beach after their dive. She felt a longing for the handsome, dark haired man sitting across from her.

Frank was saying, "Diana and her half-brother were each supposed to inherit two hundred thousand dollars when their mother, Margie, died. Diana was murdered several months before her mother died of lung cancer which meant she didn't inherit her share. Walter e-mailed me a copy of Margie Collins' will. There's a provision in it that stipulates a sole survivor inherits both shares. In other words, the son would inherit four hundred thousand dollars upon his mother's death if Diana was dead."

Nancy's jaw dropped. "Diana's brother, I mean half-brother, murdered her for the money. It all makes sense now. He would've known his mother was dying of cancer and he most likely knew about the inheritance and the will." She drummed her fingers on the glass table. "It's not a bad plan. Kill your half-sister months before mom dies. Less suspicious that way."

Joe ran a hand through his flattened hair and shook his head. "But it's still suspicious. Couldn't the Chicago police figure that out? Please tell me they investigated the brother." He tossed off his covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

A horrified grimace spread over Frank's face. "Joe? Tell me you're wearing something. We have a guest."

One corner of Joe's mouth lifted in a grin. "Of course, I'm wearing something. Why would you even question that?"

"Because I know you." Sarcasm laced every word. "There's such a thing as etiquette .."

Frank didn't finish. Joe did exactly what Frank feared he would do and walked to the bathroom wearing only his briefs.

"Nature calls. I have to pee for, God's sake," Joe declared indignantly and disappeared into the bathroom. Before he shut the door, he called out, "Relax a little, bro. My underwear is no different than a Speedo swimsuit. Actually, it probably covers more than a Speedo."

The bathroom door slammed shut.

Nancy put a hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. She saw clearly what Frank apparently could not. Joe did and said things, on occasion, just to rile his brother. Why the very astute Frank had not figured this out was beyond Nancy.

Frank shook his head and prepared to apologize.

Nancy smiled at him. "He's right. Briefs really aren't much different than a Speedo." She leaned closer and put her hands on Frank's knees. It was an intimate gesture. "And just so you know, Frank. I hate Speedos."

Frank chuckled. Nancy would never see him in a Speedo. "I hate them, too. Glad we got that settled."

Nancy's soft pink lips were right there, inches away, begging to be kissed.

It was the flushing toilet that stopped him.

He stood abruptly. "Excuse me."

He scooped Joe's sheets and bedcovers off the floor and heaved them on the bed. On the floor, in a crumbled heap, was what he was looking for. Joe's shorts. Frank grabbed and tossed them on the bathroom vanity just as Joe stepped out of the toilet/shower area.

"Put those on," Frank growled as he returned to the table. "And wash your hands."

"Yes, mother," Joe said in a mocking high falsetto. He couldn't resist making fun of Frank, but the sound of running water indicated he was following instructions.

Nancy giggled out loud. Again, Joe had gotten to Frank.

Frank squared his shoulders and shook his head as if to say, Joe could be annoying at times. "Okay, back to the case."

Nancy tapped the table with an index finger. "I hope you're going to tell me the name of the son."

"Donald Kelliher."

Nancy leaned back and crossed her arms. "Definitely not the name we know him by." She smiled at Frank and surprised him with her next statement. "Doesn't matter, I think I know his name, the one he's using now, but first I'd like to hear what else you found out."

Joe emerged from the bathroom area wearing shorts. He searched the floor around his bed.

"Aha!" he cried triumphantly and held up a wrinkled orange t-shirt as if it were a prize he'd just won.

Frank rolled his eyes, but was happy to see Joe slip the t-shirt over his head.

"Ed Kelliher remarried when his son was twelve years old," Frank said. "Ed died ten years ago of a massive heart attack and left his entire fortune to his second wife, Sharon Kelliher. After a bit of searching I was able to locate the second Sharon Kelliher in New York where she lives and is the current CEO of her late husband's airline company. Thanks to the time difference between Hawaii and New York I was able to interview her this morning via phone."

"Annnd?" Nancy prompted anxious to hear the rest of the story.

Joe stretched out on his bed, put his hands behind his head, and listened.

"Annnnd," Frank said mimicking Nancy, "I explained to Sharon Kelliher who I was and that I was investigating the murders of Gwen Airedale and Diana Collins. I also told her I thought her stepson might be connected to the women's murders. I have to say she didn't seem surprised by the accusation. She certainly didn't try to dissuade me or proclaim her stepson's innocence."

"What did she say about him?" Nancy asked.

Joe crossed his legs at the ankles and closed his eyes.

"She said she wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he had murdered Diana. Her exact words were, she wouldn't put it past him. According to her, Donald always had a sense of entitlement. She blames her husband for that. She said he was way too lenient on his son. Apparently, dad never pushed Don to get a job and stand on his own two feet. Dad always took the easy way out and sent Don money every time he phoned home with a sob story. Dad's excuse was, 'It's just to get Don back on his feet. This'll be the last time.' Of course, it was never the last time and dear old Don never got on his feet."

A long drawn-out yawn overtook Frank. "Sorry, I'm a little tired." He stood, stretched his arms, and rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks that had settled during the long night.

He paced the room to get his blood flowing and his brain working. "Sharon Kelliher said Don was frequently strapped for cash. He never held a steady job. She was happy when he finally decided to give modeling a try. She thought he might be good at it. He had the looks and the build for it. She thought he had a shot at being a top male model, if he was willing to put in the effort. Unfortunately he wasn't. Don never had drive or ambition when it came to jobs. Sharon heard he'd show up late for shoots or not at all. It was easy for him to blow-off modeling gigs. Dear old dad was always ready, willing, and able to send money to get Don through the rough spots."

"Lazy. Deadbeat. User," Joe aptly labeled him.

"I couldn't agree more." Frank plopped into his chair at the table. "Sharon Kelliher said Don called every three months or so looking for money. Against her wishes, her husband always sent it and it wasn't small sums either. It was usually ten to twenty thousand dollars at a time."

"Talk about expensive tastes." Joe sat up on the bed and arranged the pillows behind his back then leaned against them.

Nancy had scribbled a few notes on a notepad. "When was the last time Sharon Kelliher heard from her stepson?"

"Almost eight years ago," Frank said. "Remember, dear old dad died ten years ago. Sharon Kelliher said her husband finally did in death what he could never do in life. He cut off his son financially."

"Ouch," Joe said. "That had to hurt. No more free handouts."

"Dad must've left Don something," Nancy reasoned.

Frank nodded. "He did, just not as much as Don was hoping for. He got five hundred thousand dollars. Sharon Kelliher got everything else and complete control of her husband's assets and estate which was – is – considerable."

"How soon was dear old Don asking her for money?" Joe quipped, a sour tone in his voice.

"Almost immediately," Frank answered. "But Sharon Kelliher refused to give him one red cent. She told him he had two options. One, he could earn money the good-old-fashioned way and get a job. Or two, he could invest some of his inheritance in his father's company and, in all likelihood, live off the interest. She thought he might go for the second option. He didn't. Instead, he threatened to contest the will. However, he didn't have the drive to see it through and she hasn't heard from him since."

Nancy tapped the table. "Hmmm, with Don's expensive taste, how long do you suppose five hundred thousand dollars would last?"

Frank had asked himself the same question. "Diana was murdered three years after Ed Kelliher's death so, I'd say about three years."

Joe hopped off the bed. "How come the Chicago police couldn't figure all this out? Don looks like the perfect suspect."

"No evidence," Frank told him, "not even circumstantial. Right after I finished talking to Sharon Kelliher I phoned the detectives who've worked the case. They told me they liked Don for the murder and felt certain he did it. He lived in the area – under a different name of course – but other than the inheritance, they couldn't find a scrap of physical evidence to tie him to the crime scene. There were no fingerprints, no DNA, no hair or fibers. Nothing. They never found anything that would put Don Kelliher in Diana's apartment."

"Well, maybe I have." Nancy smiled at Frank and Joe.

The brothers stared at her expectantly.

"Really? What's that?" Joe pulled up a chair and got comfortable.

Nancy explained about the necklaces the wives had worn at dinner last night. One in particular had caught her eye. It had looked familiar. She'd seen that necklace earlier in the day, in a photo taken at the annual Airedale's Christmas Fashion Show. The necklace had been around Diana's very own neck.

Frank turned to his computer. He had skimmed through all the photos last night and was quite familiar with them. He tapped some keys and brought up the photo on the screen.

"This one?" He pointed at the image.

Nancy stood and leaned over Frank's shoulder. "Yes, that's the one. And this is why I wanted to see you this morning. I'm sure you can zoom in on that necklace. I want to see it up close and personal."

Frank tapped a few keys and the necklace filled the screen. "How's that?"

"I need more detail. Can you magnify the image a little more?"

"Give me a minute."

It took several minutes and adjustments and a few choice words. But finally, Frank had a clear, sharp image of the enlarged necklace centered on the screen. Frank was surprised Nancy could identify the necklace at all. A good portion of it was hidden by Diana's collar.

Nancy folded one arm across her chest, rested a hand on her chin, and studied the image. "I'm almost positive it's the same necklace." She looked from Frank to Joe. "Diana's blue necklace looks exactly like the lapis lazuli necklace Barbara Westin was wearing at dinner last night."

Nancy's gaze fell on Frank and she grinned. "Chase Westin's our man, isn't he?"

Frank returned Nancy's grin. "That's one of the many aliases he's used." The grin faded and Frank frowned. "We need to prove Barbara's necklace and Diana's are one and the same. How do you propose to do that?"

"I have a plan. Last night Barbara told me the necklace was the first gift her husband gave her."

Joe spat out, "A gift he probably stole right off his dead sister's neck."

Nancy shuddered at the thought. She remembered the police report had said Diana had fought with her attacker. Had she and Chase fought over the necklace?

Nancy pushed the thought to the back of her mind and continued her explanation, "Barbara said the necklace is numbered. That means it's one of a kind and can be traced to the jeweler who sold it. I'm going to call Barbara this morning and ask to see the necklace. I'll tell her I fell in love with it and want the jeweler's name and number. Once I have the information, I'll contact the jeweler and verify when, where, and who bought that necklace."

"Great plan." Frank's smile of admiration caused Nancy to blush slightly. "I have some good news, too. Walter's on his way to interview Margie Collins' longtime housekeeper and personal assistant who lives in New York. Maybe she can shed some more light on Donald Kelliher, AKA Chase Westin. I'm going to phone Walter and tell him to mention the necklace. I'll e-mail him this picture so he can show it to the housekeeper."

A shiver trickled down Nancy's spine. "If she identifies it as the same necklace there's only one way it got from Diana's neck to Barbara's." She shuddered again at the very thought and what it meant.

Joe had been staring at the computer scene. He stepped back and said, "This necklace could be the evidence the Chicago detectives have been looking for. It could prove Chase Westin was in Diana's apartment when she was killed."

Frank nodded at his brother. "You're right. One of us should give them a call."

Nancy checked her wristwatch. "It's a little after seven, too early for me to call Barbara."

"Or for me to call Detective Lau and give him all this information," Joe said. "But I can contact the Chicago detectives."

Nancy made a suggestion, "I'm hungry. How 'bout we have breakfast then make our calls." She looked from Joe to Frank. Frank was yawning violently.

Joe pushed in his chair. "I'm all for that."

Frank struggled to his feet. He had logged off his computer and was waiting for it to shut down. Between yawns Frank said, "I'm going to .. to track down Chase Westin after breakfast. One of us needs to keep an eye on him."

"After breakfast you're going to come back here and get some sleep," Joe told his brother in no-uncertain terms.

Frank flinched and glared at Joe. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Yes he can." Nancy crossed her arms defiantly and lifted her chin.

"Huh? What? Hey, you can't -" Frank stammered.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" Nancy wore a no-nonsense expression and her arms were still firmly crossed.

"I … I .. um …"

"That's what I thought. None. No arguments, Frank." Nancy was pointing now for emphasis. "We're a team and we share the workload and we listen to each other. Joe and I can handle things this morning while you get some sleep."

"I … I," Frank muttered weakly as confusion and surprise waged an internal battle.

Joe gripped Frank's shoulder and whispered in his ear, "I wouldn't argue if I were you. She looks fit to be tied."

Frank followed Joe's advice and clamped his mouth shut.

After a coffee-free breakfast, he was duly tucked in bed, and within minutes, sleeping soundly.

A/N: Thanks as always for the reviews. :)

To Smithy: Sorry to hear about your mother. I hope she is improving. I will say a prayer for her. I know what you're going through. My sister was in the hospital earlier this week. She had major surgery, but is home now and recovering nicely.