Murder among the Palms Page 18

  Argo shrugged. “I used some inside information.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I made Cutler run a background check on him. Back in the 1980s, Lampson got arrested at a public restroom in London. The charges were dropped. The report made it sound like he’d gotten into a fistfight, but it wasn’t. Just the opposite.”

  “Oh.” This time, the coffee tasted bitter. “Didn’t Lanislaw do the same thing?”

  “Cutler’s good at what he does. He has access to some files that Lanislaw might not. Or maybe Lanislaw knew about the report, but didn’t understand the code. My uncle lived through those times, remember?”

  “So you could read between the lines.”

  “It’s what closeted guys used to do back in the day. The cops hung out in bathrooms and entrapped them. Both England and here. It was wrong, but there it is.”

  “So you sort of…blackmailed Lampson?”

  “Nothing like that. I simply called him and told him he needed to tell us the truth—that I wasn’t acting in any official capacity, and I definitely wasn’t judging him.”

  “But if you hadn’t brought up his arrest, he wouldn’t have told us anything, just like he didn’t tell Lanislaw. It was your own leverage.”

  “Well, maybe.” Argo’s face tightened. “Hey, don’t equate investigating a murder with the kind of crap Gabrielle and Kyle were pulling on their supposed friends. It’s not the same thing at all. At all!”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “You didn’t need to.”

  Without answering, Argo drained his cup in three deep swallows, pitched it into the nearest trash can, and strode back to the car. By then, Darian’s stomach was churning. The coffee was too strong.

  They didn’t say much on the way back.

  Argo stopped in front of his moms’ house, but didn’t pull into the driveway.

  “I need to go and talk to Stuart in person,” he said. “I’ll let you tell Ange the good news.”

  “Stuart, huh?” Darian said it too quietly for Argo to hear. Instead, he asked in as casual a voice as he could muster, “When will you be back?”

  “I’m not sure. These things can take a while. Don’t hold dinner for me. I’ll grab something downtown. Your moms will understand, given the circumstances.”

  “Okay.” Darian closed the car door. Argo roared away almost before it clicked shut.

  Chapter 14

  Darian walked into the house, passing Rikki’s car parked in the driveway. When he stepped inside, his moms leaped up from the sofa with guilty flushes on their cheeks. As pleased as he was to see them cuddling again, right now he felt too numb to say much.

  “Darian, what’s wrong?” Ange asked. “It’s not bad news? What’s happened now?”

  “No, no. It’s good news for all of us. Argo talked to Lanislaw, who’s convinced no one from this household had anything to do with the murders.”

  “Well, I should hope not,” Rikki said. “What’s the matter with that man, anyway? As though Ange or I would ever—”

  She trailed off, unable to say the words. Ange picked up the slack, waving Darian into an armchair.

  “Come and sit down. Tell us everything. That’s good news, for sure, but you don’t look too happy about it. What else is going on?”

  “I can’t really say too much,” Darian said, sinking into a seat. “I don’t want to jeopardize Argo’s case. Still, as long as it stays between us, I can give you the gist. Unfortunately, it looks like Kyle’s going down for both killings.”

  “Oh, no,” Ange said. “That’s a shocker, all right. Kyle?”

  “I’d hoped it wouldn’t be him.” Rikki shook her head sadly. “But why are you calling it Argo’s case?”

  “Sorry. I should have said Stuart Lanislaw’s.”

  “I think we get the picture,” Ange soothed.

  “I don’t blame Lanislaw for leaning on him. Argo’s good at what he does. He’s clear-headed and honest. He doesn’t let his emotions run away with him. Not the way I do sometimes. And if Kyle is guilty…well, he needs to face the music, obviously.”

  “I take it you’re not as convinced of his guilt as Argo is.”

  Darian studied his sneakers. “It’s not my call to make. He’s the professional. I’m just a concerned citizen.”

  “You shouldn’t criticize yourself for feeling what you feel,” Ange said. “We’re all human. How could we do otherwise? When you think someone you care about is making a mistake…well, it’s hard to imagine anything that feels worse.”

  “Don’t we know that first hand?” Rikki commented wryly.

  “I know you’re both disappointed in what he does for a living. I’d be lying if I said it never bothered me, especially today. But it’s what he loves to do. It’s his life. He does it because he wants to serve justice. He wants to help people and he wants to punish wrongdoers. He takes his role seriously. Part of what he feels his purpose is involves doing right by victims. That includes people like Gabrielle, who weren’t angels.”

  “We understand,” Ange assured him. “We’ve talked, and we’re doing better with it now. I mean, obviously, we’d prefer you were dating a nice young man who was a defense attorney or social worker, but you know how it goes. We can’t always choose who we fall in love with. Wouldn’t life be easier if we could?”

  Darian thought about Gerald Lampson and his sham marriage. No doubt he sincerely wished he could love his wife the way he found himself loving men. His wife probably wished the same thing. But they managed to accept each other. Even if they divorced now, as Gerald seemed to expect, they’d have their friendship. Maybe that was the trick—love without physical passion? More power to those who could handle that. Darian knew he couldn’t.

  “I want to believe things will work out between us,” he said. “We’re both so different, though. We do try, most of the time. Now and then one of us forgets, and I realize how exhausting compromise can be. Then I wonder if it’s worth all the pain.”

  “But you try,” Ange said. “What more can you do? Love happens whether you want it to or not. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t. Just because passion might not last forever doesn’t mean it isn’t real, or worth fighting for.”

  “Argo came all the way to Florida, saw us at our absolute worst, and still put up with us,” Rikki pointed out. “Even when he thought one or both of your moms might be an adulterer or even a killer, he stuck around. I get the sense he really loves you.”

  Darian smiled in spite of himself. “Wish he’d say so once in a while.”

  “Some people find the words difficult. Luckily for you, we don’t. We love you, Darian, and we want you to be happy, even if it means re-evaluating our attitudes about certain types of civil servants. We’ll support whatever decisions you make. But you already knew that.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” He hugged Ange and turned to Rikki. “And Mom.”

  Ange clapped her hands together. “Okay, now that we’ve got a handle on our current family dynamics, I found something I want to share with you. Before you and Argo left, you encouraged me to put my research skills to good use.”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, this probably won’t matter, since Lanislaw decided to bring charges against Kyle, but having all the facts is never a liability.”

  “True enough,” Darian agreed.

  “So I got to thinking. Do you recall the holiday party, when poor Maurice seemed to believe Zara was one of his seminar students? Or at least that’s what we assumed he meant. He was actually looking at both Zara and Gabrielle at the time. What if it was Gabrielle he was talking about?”

  Darian’s chin snapped up. “That’s right. And it’s funny you should say that, Mom, because Argo and I found out today that Gabrielle started out wanting an academic career.”

  “I had suspected that all along.” Rikki slanted Ange an amused smile. “Trust me, I’ve been around academics long enough to recognize the way they talk and think. Every now and then
, Gabi would use a phrase or make a reference that got me wondering. Not that it’s unusual for people in the hospitality field to drift in from other fields. I figured her original interest in castles might have come from studying history.”

  “I had a sense I was on the right track. So the next thing I did was try to find out if Gabrielle had ever taken a class with Maurice Turnbull. I struck out, but of course the college databases only go back so far, and it would have been long before my time at the school. What I’d really need to do is go to the registrar’s office, and even that would be a long shot. As we already know, Gabrielle didn’t have much of a web presence in her younger years, meaning she might well have changed her name. Then there are privacy issues around student records these days. And to top it all off, the registrar is closed for the holidays this week. So my genius idea hit a dead end, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, it was a good try, anyway,” Darian conceded. “And don’t worry. We can pass the information on to Lanislaw. Now that Argo’s solved his case for him, he’ll have time to fill in the background himself.”

  “Not so fast. It occurred to me that I didn’t necessarily need to go the official route. We can’t rely on Maurice’s memory, obviously, but there are other people who were working at the college in the late 1980s or early ’90s, when Gabrielle was most likely enrolled. In particular, I know of two people who are quite likely to keep old yearbooks, class rosters, and that kind of thing lying around. So I got on the phone.”

  “You mean Bodie and Iris,” Darian said.

  “Sure? Who else? Iris was out when I called, but Bodie was quite helpful. He seemed surprised by what I found, but said he would swing by his office and gather up any old stuff from his file cabinet or bookshelf. I offered him dinner if he’d be willing to bring it over this evening. I figured between all of us, we could browse through it in a couple of hours. It’s a long shot, I know, but think about it. If Gabrielle was in one of Maurice’s sociology classes, she might show up in one of those posed departmental photos or on some old awards program or whatnot. I doubt she was ever the type to fade quietly into the background.”

  Darian had to agree with that. Immediately, another thought struck him, this one more troubling. “Mom…let’s say it’s true, and Gabrielle took Maurice’s classes. Maurice and Iris have been close friends for decades. Wouldn’t she would have known Gabrielle, too? Wouldn’t she have mentioned it by now?”

  “It’s possible they crossed paths,” Ange admitted, her expression clouding a little, “but not necessarily. Iris would have been a new hire then, strictly junior faculty. She probably wouldn’t have had much contact with the advanced seminar participants, who tend to be seniors or even graduate students. And theirs was a fairly big department back then—bigger than it is now, even. I can’t remember all the students I taught in my early days.”

  “It’s even possible Gabrielle has changed so much that Iris didn’t recognize her,” Rikki suggested, though she didn’t sound as confident as Darian would have liked. “Change your name, your hair color, your weight—you see what I’m saying.”

  “I guess.”

  Comprehension and fear dawned on Ange’s face. “Oh, Darian. You’re not suggesting Iris had something to do with this whole mess?”

  “She left the restaurant that night. Said she went to look for you. At least, that’s what she said.”

  A knock on the door spared Ange the necessity of answering. Rikki went to open it, and a moment later Bodie followed her into the room. Ange looked disappointed to see that he hadn’t brought any books or papers with him.

  “Thank you for coming, Bodie,” Ange said. “Let me get you a drink. Rikki and I were just about to start dinner. “Ah…is Iris with you?”

  “She had some Christmas shopping to finish up, but she’ll be along soon,” Bodie said. “Won’t say no to a beer, if you have one.”

  “I’ll get it,” Rikki offered, moving toward the kitchen. Bodie’s gaze tracked her path to the refrigerator and back. He took the bottle from her and raised it in a mock toast.

  “Much appreciated. Thirsty work, shoveling my way through all those dusty heaps of paper in my office. When we get back from break, I plan to do some major decluttering. Ran across a pile of essays I graded back in 1997. Seems to me that if the students haven’t picked them up by now, they most likely won’t bother.”

  “Did you find anything related to what we talked about earlier?” Ange asked. Darian heard a note of hesitation in her voice.

  “Oh, yes. Plenty.” Bodie nursed his beer. “No worries, Ange, it’s all in the trunk of my car. I figure Darian can help me haul it in. Might as well wait until Iris is here to help, anyway. Not to mention Darian’s sheriff fellow. Never thought I’d see the day when you two move a cop into the house. So much for all those protest marches back in the day, huh?”

  “Let’s just say we’ve mellowed with age,” Ange told him. “Most of us aren’t the same people we were in our younger years.”

  “True, true,” Bodie mused. “Life changes so fast. We start out idealistic—some might say naïve. Then reality falls across our path. Work, family, repairing the faucets. Wears us down over time, doesn’t it?”

  “It can,” Rikki said.

  “Up to each one of us to fight against our own apathy,” Bodie continued. “At least until we end up like poor old Maurice…no weapons left to bring to the battle.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed. Bodie sipped his beer. Ange busied herself in the kitchen, removing a head of lettuce and a pack of tomatoes from the fridge. Her hands shook as she set up the cutting board and selected a broad-bladed knife from the magnetic rack.

  Presently another knock sounded at the front door. Darian experienced a flash of hope, which immediately faded. Argo wouldn’t need to knock. Instead, he opened it to find Iris, looking frantic. She was too agitated even to bother with a greeting.

  “Bodie, is Zara here with you?”

  “No,” Bodie said. He finished his beer and squinted into the bottle. No one offered him another.

  “Oh, this is awful,” Iris fretted. “I got home from shopping and saw Bodie’s note. Zara wasn’t home, either.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Bodie said. “She’s probably at the hotel. You saw her there, Rikki, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Rikki confirmed. “Darian did, too.”

  “Obviously I called the front desk,” Iris said testily. “Whoever answered the phone said she left hours ago. That’s not what I’m worried about. Bodie, the door to her bedroom was open. When I glanced inside, I noticed most of her things were gone.”

  “Gone?” Ange returned from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Do you mean someone robbed your house?”

  “No, no.” Flustered, Iris dropped onto the couch beside Bodie, who didn’t bother to glance up. “I mean it looks like Zara came home, packed up in a hurry, and ran away. I’m going to be honest here. I’m afraid she might have committed these murders!”

  Bodie barked out a laugh. “You have a vivid imagination, Iris. Always have. Did you forget Zara’s a grown woman? She just took off for a while. Who can blame her, considering what’s going on?”

  “Did she get permission from Lanislaw to leave town?” Rikki asked.

  “Who cares what he thinks? Zara couldn’t possibly know anything that would help the police.”

  “Are you sure?” Darian ventured. “We know you didn’t just meet Gabrielle when your daughter started working at the hotel. Your connection with her goes much further back, doesn’t it? Way back to when she was a student in the sociology department at the college.”

  “I won’t insult your intelligence by denying it.” Iris blushed while Bodie fidgeted. “But I didn’t know her well. I was a new hire then, not even tenured yet. She was working with Maurice. He was doing some kind of study and she helped compile the citations. That’s all I knew about her at the time.”

  “That might be true, but she got to know the two of you just t
he same.”

  “So what?” Bodie groused. “It was a long time ago. Ange herself just said it. We’re all different people now.”

  “She didn’t stay long,” Iris added, somewhat desperately. “The master’s program wasn’t right for her. She had bigger ambitions than to become a social worker. I can’t really say I blame her there.”

  “Tell us what happened,” Darian went on.

  “Nothing happened.” Bodie turned suddenly, seeing Rikki reaching for the cell phone she’d left on one corner of the coffee table. “I wouldn’t pick that up if I were you. Our families have been friends a long time, Rikki. Be too bad to spoil it all now, when we need to pull together more than ever.”

  “Tell them the truth,” Iris said.

  “My guess is it all started at the party,” Darian said. “You went up to the bar and walked past Gabrielle, Zara, and Gerald Lampson. You probably overheard Zara trying, unsuccessfully, to flirt with him. Gabrielle was trying to encourage their connection, hurrying things along.”

  “I did witness that revolting scene,” Bodie admitted. He rolled his beer bottle between his palms. “I didn’t like it one bit, as you can imagine. That disgusting old man was harassing her, plain and simple. And as far as Gabrielle goes…can you imagine? Prostituting our daughter that way? No shame at all. I always knew she had a heart made of pitch, but that stunt confirmed it.”

  “Bodie.” Caution weighted Iris’s voice.

  Her husband turned on her quickly. “You hypocrite! Don’t act like you care what happened to her. You never have. I can’t imagine why you’re complaining that she’s finally gone from the house. You’d have preferred she left years ago, wouldn’t you?”

  “Bodie, how can you say that to Iris?” Ange objected, horrified. “She’s Zara’s mother!”

  Bodie smirked. “Ha. Shows what you know.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Rikki and Ange exchanged perplexed glances. Bodie didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. For Darian, things began to fall into place, like the little foam pieces in one of those 3D puzzle kits.