Murder among the Palms Read online

  “What a shame,” Darian said, recalling the glazed vacancy in Maurice’s watery gray eyes. Apparently he was in much worse condition than even his mom suspected.

  “Poor old thing.” Zara shook her head. “Total dementia.”

  “Tough to come to that kind of end.”

  “My parents say he was a big deal in his day. Academic books, articles, you name it. They even interviewed him on a PBS documentary once. Now he barely knows what day it is. Mind is totally gone.”

  She mimicked an explosion next to her head just as Kyle came around the corner. “Did I hear you say someone’s mind is gone? Not mine, I hope. But if does go, at least I’ve still got a body to kill for.” Playfully he swiveled his hips. “Given the choice, I guess I’d take my perfect figure. Hate for all those hours in the gym to go to waste. I banked way more time on the treadmill than I ever did in the library.”

  Shaking her head in mock exasperation, Zara moved on with a promise she would see Darian again at the party. Kyle lingered after she was gone.

  “So, how are you and Mr. Right enjoying your trip? He’s not getting too much sun, I hope. Those northern boys don’t have the kind of tolerance we do. Don’t ask me how I know that.”

  “Never a dull moment,” Darian said.

  “So I hear.” Kyle winked. “Wish I’d been a sand-flea when you ran into Rikki and Gabrielle canoodling on the beach.”

  “Didn’t take you long to find about that.” Zara was right. The hotel was clearly a boiling lava pit of gossip. No doubt Ange knew, through Zara, that her failing marriage was a topic of conversation among the staff. No wonder she was in a constant state of humiliation and anger. “Who told you?”

  “Who do you think? Gabi talked about it nonstop when she and Rikki got back to the hotel. I was in my office, working on the web page for the party, and they weren’t exactly quiet about it.”

  Darian scowled. “I’m sure.”

  “Don’t pretend you’re not interested in what they said. Well, I won’t make you beg. It’s too juicy not to share.”

  “Go on.” Darian wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it, but then again Kyle knew him too well. Another part of him definitely did.

  “Gabrielle was annoyed that you and Argo seemed suspicious of her. She hates it when people don’t like her, you know—or at least if they act like they don’t. Anyway, she asked Rikki what Ange knew about their relationship. When she wouldn’t answer, Gabrielle said it was time Rikki and Ange had a talk. Then Rikki got steamed and said she had some stuff to take care of before tonight. Then she stomped out.”

  “She put it that way?” Darian asked, his heart sinking. “She used the word relationship and said they had to talk?”

  Kyle fidgeted. “Well, I’m not a hundred percent sure that was the exact word. I was trying to mind my own business. But that was more or less the gist.” Seeing Darian’s crestfallen expression, he patted him on the shoulder. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But all things considered, I think you deserve nothing less than the truth.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “After all, if we don’t get the situation out in the open, how can we work on resolving it?” Kyle chattered on. “Anyway, I could be wrong. Their connection might be based on something totally innocent. Maybe this really is just a big misunderstanding.”

  Kyle didn’t understand, Darian thought as he watched his longtime friend scurry away. Assuming he’d misread all the signs in front of him was the only way he’d kept his cool so far. Now even that level of self-delusion had become impossible.

  His hands shook as he dialed Argo’s phone. He picked up right away.

  “How’s it going with Ange?” Darian asked.

  “I think your mom’s thawing toward me. As for the rest of it…well, you first.”

  “Argo, I think they’re on the verge of breaking up. I’m scared.”

  “I agree that it’s not looking great. Don’t give up hope. People have come through worse. And remember, no one’s moved out yet. Hang in there.”

  “At least we tried. Thanks, Argo.”

  Sighing, Darian pressed the disconnect button. Then he squared his shoulders and forced himself to walk into the gift shop as though nothing had happened. A clerk wearing the same uniform as Zara and Kyle, with impeccable manners, rushed to the front of the store to wait on him.

  “I’ve come to see the watches,” he said.

  “Oh, yes,” the salesman beamed. “You’re Rikki Winter’s son. Right this way, sir.”

  He led Darian to a glass case that contained row upon row of the most beautiful men’s jewelry Darian had ever seen up close. The watches on display contained diamonds, titanium, carbon, and everything in between. Their features included, among other indulgences, moon-phase calculations and built-in GPS. The price tags were equally jaw-dropping.

  “Mrs. Duval herself called to tell me you were on your way,” the clerk informed him with great satisfaction. “She instructed me to assist you in every way possible. Which one may I show you first?”

  No doubt about it. At times, having all the facts was overrated.

  Chapter 5

  Despite Argo’s hints that he had come home from the mall with a jungle-print leisure suit in his shopping bag, what he emerged in that evening was an electric blue suit with a banded collar and a salmon-colored shirt underneath. No tie, though the shirt collar opened far enough to show off his silver rope chain.

  “What do you think?” he asked, slicking his freshly gelled hair back from his forehead. Darian, who had opted for a serviceable but uninspiring ensemble of black slacks, sports coat, and red tie, gaped.

  “I like it,” he stammered. “I mean…that color on you is amazing.”

  Ange laughed. Though she and Argo had spent hours at the mall, she had decided to wear her go-to black blazer and tan khakis, though Darian noticed she had added a festive sprig of fresh holly to the lapel. “Mission accomplished. Argo now officially looks more Floridian than we do. He’s nowhere near as hopeless at shopping as you made him sound, Darian.” She paused and unsuccessfully fought back a scowl. “I’m sorry Rikki decided to miss his grand entrance. We’ll just have to repeat it when we get to the party.”

  “No worries. I suspect a lot of heads will turn toward Argo,” Darian said.

  “Your friend Kyle’s, for one?” Argo teased. “I can’t deny I had his expression in mind when I carried this up to the counter. Never hurts to remind an ex that you’ve traded up to an improved model.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s hit the road. I can’t wait to see this world-class extravaganza that’s kept Rikki from home so many nights in a row.” Ange flung open the front door and marched out. All day, Darian had feared she would wriggle out of the party at the last minute, but now he began to worry that she would find a way to cause trouble once they got there. Somehow, she seemed a bit too cheerful. “Can you get the lights, Darian?”

  “Sure, Mom.” On his way out, Darian flipped the switch on a living room still bereft of a Christmas tree and other decorations.

  “This isn’t going to be awkward, with Gabrielle?” he asked as diplomatically as he could while they climbed into Ange’s car.

  “Not a bit. It’s a party. The idea is to enjoy ourselves, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

  When they arrived at Mermaid Towers, the party was already picking up speed. They checked in and were admitted into the lobby, where a live band that was belting out holiday-themed tunes. Space had been cleared to provide a makeshift dance floor, where several couples wheeled around with joyful abandon. A sign beside the Christmas tree directed guests toward a free buffet in the same hotel restaurant Rikki had managed before her promotion. There, the room had been rearranged to accommodate not only the chocolate fountain Kyle had mentioned, but a line of steam tables and a carving station. Armed with an enormous knife, a uniformed staffer stood poised to cut into huge slabs of beef, ham, and turkey.

  “Meat and chocolate?” Ange affected a
shudder. “Whose idea was it to put those things next to each other?”

  “Veggies and dip over there,” Darian said, pointing. “You can stick to those if you prefer.”

  “Are you nuts?” Ange asked, grabbing a plate. “I’m going for the cheesecake.”

  “Sounds as good a place to start as any,” Darian reasoned, following her across the room. “Like she said, it’s a party, and we’re on vacation besides. We can get away with having dessert first just this once, right?”

  “No excuses needed for my benefit,” Argo told him. “If you hadn’t mentioned it, I would have just assumed that’s the way it works in Florida.”

  “In a perfect world. That’s where it would work anywhere. I mean, it all mixes together in your stomach anyway. What does it matter which part you eat first?”

  “Funny, I tried the same argument on my parents when I was a kid,” Argo marveled. “My logic didn’t seem to work on them, but safe to say your mom doesn’t have a problem with it.”

  “Well, she is a professor, so she would know.” For the first time that day, maybe for the first time since their plane touched down, Darian felt himself unwind. Good food, the happy chatter of people around them, and some cheerful flirtation with Argo blotted out his other problems, at least for the time being.

  Or so he thought before he heard ceramic shattering against the floor. The hum of conversation in the room went dead. Next, a colorful string of curse words carried over the carols being piped in from the lobby, and a man Darian recognized stormed past the bussing station. It was Carl, the jerk who’d threatened his mom on the beach.

  Beside him, Argo groaned and set down the piece of cake he’d just selected. “Oh, no. Not this guy again.”

  In Carl’s wake, along with numerous fragments of broken dishes, came Gabrielle and Rikki. Gabrielle was red-faced with anger, while Rikki merely looked embarrassed.

  “This is how you repay me for giving you a second chance?” Gabrielle shrieked. “Come near this hotel again and I’ll have you thrown in jail for trespassing!”

  “We’ll see who the police choose to believe,” Carl shouted back as he slammed through the exit. Argo started after him, but Rikki intervened.

  “It’s all right, Argo. Gabrielle fired him, and he’s leaving. Please, let’s not create more of a scene than he already has.”

  “I’d say it’s a bit late for that,” Ange commented. She had come to stand behind Darian, still holding a fork with a plump strawberry speared on it. Gabrielle heard her, and half-turned with her mouth open. Her bared teeth suggested she was forming a retort that would do little to defuse the tension in the room. Rikki, too, sucked in an anxious breath.

  Then Gabrielle seemed to catch hold of herself, and her expression shifted into a forced smile. “Oh, Professor,” she said with an exaggerated formality. “How nice to see you again. I’m so glad you could make time to join us this evening.”

  “Please call me Angela,” she corrected. “Professor sounds a little formal, doesn’t it? If you’ll pardon the cliché, any friend of my wife’s is a friend of mine.”

  Over Gabrielle’s shoulder, Darian saw Rikki wince. He knew Ange saw it, too.

  “But of course we are friends.” Gabrielle’s smirk lengthened. “In fact, I have been meaning to apologize to you. I’ve been keeping poor Rikki so busy, and she’s too loyal an employee to ask for time off. I had to insist she take a couple of hours to be with your son, here, and Argo. Family first has always been my motto. ‘The place will still be standing when you return,’ I told her. ‘I will see to that personally.’ But you know better than anyone how she can be when she sets her mind to something.”

  “I certainly do.” Ange bit off the words. Instinctively she tucked her cheesecake plate close to her, as if she feared Gabrielle might snatch it away. Or perhaps she was fighting the temptation to fling it in Gabrielle’s face. “I warn her all the time about the perils of perfectionism.”

  Darian feared that Gabrielle was about to bring up their impromptu conversation on the beach, which was the last thing Ange needed to hear about at the moment.

  “Why don’t we move out of the way, Mom, so Gabrielle can get the carpet swept up? Wouldn’t want anyone to step on those dish shards.”

  He quirked his eyebrows at Argo, who offered a quick nod of understanding. “Great idea. Let’s find a place to sit and I’ll grab us all some drinks.”

  Rikki liked the idea, too. “Try the peppermint martini. It comes complete with a candy cane.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Darian said doubtfully. Argo headed to the bar, while he steered Ange around a scattering of plate fragments toward the back of the room. To his relief, he spotted Bodie and Iris enjoying drinks and plates of food at a table with two other people. Seeing them, Bodie signaled and called to them.

  Ange waved back, allowing Darian to guide her forward, but slowed before they reached the group.

  “Rikki didn’t introduce you to Gabrielle,” she said, fixing him with a piercing look his younger self had dreaded. “Yet the two of you knew each other. When did you meet her?”

  “This morning,” Darian said. “When I rode to the hotel with Rikki.” But his voice shook, and he felt his cheeks grow warm. He remembered that reaction from his childhood, too. He watched his mother’s eyes narrow suspiciously.

  “And Argo? I suppose she met him then, too?”

  “Of course not. He was at the mall with you.” Darian swallowed hard.

  “My point exactly.” Ange turned her back to him and greeted Iris and Bodie with a bit more enthusiasm than the situation warranted. Glumly, Darian held out a chair for her and then seated himself beside her. He noticed that Maurice Turnbull and a harried woman, presumably his daughter, were the other two people at the table. Bodie proved his guess correct when he introduced her as Theresa Turnbull.

  “We took the liberty of inviting them when we all met at the office the other day,” Iris explained. “Zara was kind enough to add them to the guest list. As I recall, Theresa babysat her once or twice back in the day. We couldn’t pay her much when we were junior faculty members, so we can try to make up for it now.”

  The group shared a polite chuckle, though Maurice didn’t seem to share in their humor. Despite the large wedge of chocolate cake in front of him, he stared longingly at Ange’s strawberry cheesecake.

  “Quite a do Gabrielle’s put together,” Bodie said. “Sure beats the faculty holiday party, doesn’t it?”

  “Don’t knock a platter of dried-out cheese hunks and some stale crackers left over from convocation,” Iris countered. “Plus wine from the bargain bin at the supermarket.”

  “Nothing bargain bin about any of this,” Theresa said. “I’m so grateful to you both for inviting Daddy and me. He doesn’t get out much anymore.”

  “Don’t talk about me as though I’m not sitting right next to you, young lady.” Maurice’s voice rose imperiously. “Besides, I can and do go out anytime I please. I’m as capable as anyone at this table of summoning an Uber.”

  Presently Argo returned with a small tray bearing three peppermint martinis.

  “She wasn’t lying about the candy canes,” Ange said as Argo handed her one. “I see Gabrielle sprung for the full-sized kind and not the crummy little ones they’ve been handing out around the college. I suppose we should have expected as much.”

  Maurice nodded. “Picked one up at the registrar’s office when I turned in my grades. Broken in two places right out of the package. I ask you, where is quality control these days?”

  “Luckily, they taste just as good whether they’re broken or not,” Bodie said. “Not to mention that after a few of those drinks, who would care how many pieces they’re in?”

  “True enough,” Maurice said, pursing his lips in disapproval. He turned toward Iris. “Incidentally, far be it from me to criticize a colleague, but I fear I must speak up in this instance. Is it quite wise of Angela Winter to partake of spirits before lecturing to the students? Granted,
she brings a welcome touch of iconoclasm to the campus, but one can go to an extreme in rebuffing decorum.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “At some point, such behavior simply becomes daft.”

  “Oh, look.” Iris fixed her gaze on the opposite corner of the room, where her daughter stood talking to a tall, silver-haired man. “There’s Zara now. Let’s call her over so we can thank her in person for inviting us. Zara, honey! Over here!”

  Zara, who was deep in conversation, either didn’t notice her or pretended not to. Though Iris frowned in disappointment, Darian counted himself lucky when Gabrielle appeared and joined their discussion. Rikki did not, though perhaps she had gone to make sure Carl had been ejected from the premises.

  “I’m glad to see she’s back in circulation,” Maurice remarked. “Gal’s been missing from my seminar the last few weeks. Someone told she was ill. Hope she’s feeling better now.”

  “Daddy, that’s Iris and Bodie’s daughter, Zara,” Theresa reminded him. “You might be mistaking her for somebody else.”

  “Nonsense. Gal’s a fine writer, though not terribly keen on revising her work. They never are, at that age. Nonetheless, I’m thinking of hiring her on as my research assistant this summer. Admin likes it when we give the gals a hand up, you know. Not that I have any problems with equality. Most civilizing force on earth, women are. We ignore their calming influence at our peril.” Maurice raised his fork and pointed it directly at Argo. “You can take that to the bank, young man.”

  “I never doubted it for a moment,” said Argo.

  Watching Maurice tear into his chocolate cake, and feeling the buzz from the peppermint martini he’d knocked back too quickly, reminded Darian that he ought to get something to eat. Despite Argo’s willingness to reverse the usual order of their meal, neither of them had enjoyed so much as a Christmas cookie so far. The martini-soaked candy cane probably didn’t count.