Condo Crazies: Murder At The Albatross Read online

  “It’s thinking out of the box, to be sure, and it just may work.”

  Phoebe waved Oliver at a protective mother duck advancing on them. A bevy of ducklings waited for their mother behind a bush. “But, Detective, if it’s stirring the pot you’re trying to accomplish with, ah, Monica, then you’ve succeeded. Monica had another party last night, quieter than the first one, I’ll grant you, but noisy enough to attract attention.” Phoebe grimaced. “And I think Chester Cheney has a crush on Monica. He was invited to the party along with about a dozen others, and he ranted and raved this morning about the great ‘lil gal Monica, and her cooking.”

  “Uh huh, her cookin’, huh? That cookin’ is stretchin’ my budget. Monica’s cookin’ came from TooJay’s Catering. Prescott’s havin’ himself one ol’ high time on this case.” Latasha stopped walking and turned to Phoebe. “But, I’m goin’ along with what we’ve planned. If it pulls our perp out of the woodwork, it’ll be worth it.”

  Phoebe nodded. “Odd thing is, while Monica’s doing all the right things to get to know the residents, other than Chester, no one really likes her caustic comments, and that’s according to your plan as well.” She chuckled. “And wait ‘til Chester finds out Monica is not the woman he thinks she is. Oh, my. There’ll be hell to pay, I assure you. Chester prides himself on his manliness.”

  “How ‘bout the cameras? They all in yet?”

  “The surveillance company finished two days ago. Every floor has three wide-angle cameras behind air vent registers, one at each end and one in the middle of the corridor. And the job was done at night, when the residents were asleep in their units. Less visibility. Not even Porfirio knows about the cameras. A central surveillance office monitors them twenty-four hours a day.”

  Phoebe eyed a nearby bench overlooking the lake and made her way there. “Short of providing a gun to each resident, we’ve done as much as we can do to catch this murderer.” She lowered herself to the bench. “All we have to do is wait for a reaction to someone or something. The Albatross is filled with odd people and events. Something will pull the murderer out into the light.” Phoebe looked at the lake folding into the shadows of dusk. “It’s a compulsion, a derangement, an insatiable hunger driving this type of murderer. It will happen.”

  A muffled cell phone rang. “Detective Ezuma.” Latasha listened. “Yes, Lieutenant. Be right there.” She slid the cell back into her bag. “Have to get back to my office, Judge.” She looked at the old lady on the bench. “Think, maybe, you need to leave the park? It’s gettin’ dark and there’s no point in temptin’ anyone. A woman alone, in a dark park—not a good idea.”

  Phoebe snorted. “Oliver and his ‘friends’ are with me, Detective. I assure you, I’m as safe here as I would be sitting in your office.”

  “Why tempt anyone?”

  “Because I need the tranquility of this place to settle my mind.” She looked up at Latasha. “If only for a few minutes.”

  Latasha looked at the small lake, settling into nighttime slumber. “Y’know, Judge, I could use some of that too.” She groped in her bag, removed her cell phone and tapped in a speed number. “Lieutenant, Ezuma here. I need to do somethin’ before I come in. Won’t take long.”

  She clicked off and settled herself beside Phoebe and took a deep breath. Slowly, she let it out and relaxed. “This is nice.”

  Latasha closed her eyes and listened to the soft wildlife murmurings, the lake delicately lapping at the bank’s edge. A nearby jasmine bush wafted its heady scent in their direction. They sat in companionable silence, enjoying the magic of an evening in what some might describe as paradise.

  Chapter 46

  “Yetta?” Chester knocked on the door and called again, louder this time. “Yetta!”

  “What?” Yetta’s voice was muffled by the closed door.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? I know you’re lookin’ at me through the peephole. Yeah, it’s me, Chester. Open the damned door.” His face flushed with frustration, he knocked harder on the door.

  “Chester Cheney, you moron. You’re going to dent my door. What do you want?”

  “Open the door so I can talk to you,” he repeated.

  “Not to you, or anyone else, until the murderer is caught. How do I know you didn’t put the note on my door? What—I look like a schmuck to you? What do you want anyhow?”

  “Just want to talk to you about the election coming up and who’s going to be on next year’s board.” Chester looked around the corridor. “The old lady got me kicked off, so that leaves you, the Cuban hot chili pepper and the, a-hem, interior designer on the board. We gotta plan for this election coming up. Vote new people on. C’mon, Yetta, open up.”

  “What, you’re the wolf and I look like one of the pigs? Huff and puff all you want, I’m not opening up the door. To hell with the board. I’m trying to stay alive here. Go away, Chester.”

  “Fer cripes’ sake. You’re too stupid to be on the board if you think I’m gonna hurt you.” Chester fumed.

  “I’m not talking to you anymore, Mr. Cheney.”

  The sound of retreating, shuffling footsteps backed up her declaration.

  Chester waited a moment, his florid face even redder than usual. Exasperated by his obvious failure at winning Yetta to his side, he kicked at the door, his heavy-soled shoe leaving a black mark on the metal.

  “Idiot,” he shouted in vain. There was no answer.

  Chester turned and walked to the elevator. In the middle of the hall, a patch of white dust lay on the carpet. He stopped short, looked around and bent to examine the fine particles of plasterboard. He looked up at the ceiling register above the patch, scratched his head and peered at the slat openings. Seeing nothing, he continued on his way to the elevator, hands jammed into his pockets.

  Four feet from the elevator, another dusting of wallboard coated the carpeting. Chester studied the floor and then raised his eyes to the ceiling. Another air-conditioning register just over the wallboard particles. He stared at it for a full minute, apparently lost in thought. A moment later, he pressed the elevator call button.

  The elevator rose to the penthouse level and the doors opened to a trio talking outside Delores Pruitt’s vacant apartment. Chester emerged from the elevator and stared at them.

  “You lost?” he asked gruffly.

  A woman wearing a Paradise Realty nametag smiled brightly at him. “Hello.” She stuck out her hand. “Polly Ryan. I’m a realtor showing prospective tenants this property.”

  Chester ignored the hand. “Tenants? Ya mean renters? Oh, crap. Just what we need around here, frickin renters.” He shook his head and continued along the corridor to Devin’s apartment, leaving three startled people behind, two of whom weren’t all that sure they wanted to live in The Albatross anymore.

  Chapter 47

  “Why didn’t you walk away? You don’t have to put up with that!” An indignant Valentina scolded Porfirio. “If I hadn’t come in, how much longer-r-r would you have stood there being put down by that lesbiana?”

  The man shrugged. “Ella no es importante en mi vida.” He smiled warmly at her.

  Valentina ran her eyes appreciatively over the building manager’s short, slender but muscular body. “I know she’s not, but what is important in your life, Por-r-rfirio?” He is twenty years younger, but what does age matter when hearts speak to each other?

  “Mi madre, Cuba, mi trabajo.”

  Valentina’s eyes glistened with tears. “Ahh, Por-r-rfirio. Mother, Cuba, and work—you are such a good boy.” She swept the young man into an emotional hug.

  “Boy?” Porfirio broke free and straightened his crumpled blue manager’s shirt. “I am a man, señora.”

  “Of course you are.” She placated him with a smile. “But compared to me, an old woman, you are so young.”

  Porfirio removed a toothpick from his shirt pocket and tucked it into a corner of his mouth. He leaned on a wall, his gaze flowing over Valentina’s ample curves covered with obvi
ously expensive, well cut, colorful clothes and showy jewelry.

  “Senora, the best cognacs are not the youngest. I work at a party for rich people in Palm Beach. They were drinking Black Pearl Cognac. When they were done, we pick up glasses. I taste it.” He closed his eyes, transported to the past. “It smell of flowers, fruits, and spices. Like ginger, cinnamon, and Cuban cigars.”

  He folded his arms and shifted his weight against the wall, a small, sly smile playing around his lips. “It is a very old cognac. I hear one man say one hundred years old. Senora is not that old but she is like rare cognac—exciting, and I will guess, delicious.” Delicately, his tongue moved the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

  Valentina’s breath caught in her throat. It had been a while since she’d received such a flattering compliment. Her carnal instincts were about to kick in when a slight noise behind the couple interrupted any response she might have made. The couple turned to see an impassive Phoebe, eyes fixed on them, obviously a witness to their dialogue.

  ***

  Tousled by her walk in the park, Phoebe’s halo of white hair framed her face, accentuated the blueness of her eyes—veteran eyes that took in the wall-slouching, toothpick-wielding building manager and the flushed Latina.

  “Porfirio, if you have finished your business with Ms. Lopez, I will have a word with you.” She waited with a single-mindedness of purpose, both hands resting on Oliver, whose one silver eye seemed to glimmer more than usual. As quickly as a chameleon protectively adjusting its color to a different environment, Porfirio’s expression and attitude transformed into his usual obsequiousness. “Mees Lopez, thank you for your suggestion.” He bowed and turned to Phoebe with a smile. “Judge.”

  “In the office.” Phoebe waved her cane at the room and followed him in, ignoring the chair he offered her. Instead, she closed the door with a decided snap, went around the desk, and sat behind it. When Porfirio began to lower himself in the chair opposite her, she stopped him. “Don’t sit down. You won’t be here long.”

  Porfirio straightened up and faced his employer. “You want to talk about something, Judge?” The smile he flashed on the old lady vanished when he saw her expression.

  She fixed a stare at him, silencing any other remarks he might have had in his repertoire. A silence fell on the room that a now sweating Porfirio didn’t dare to break. Judge Phoebe Burlingame was at the top of her game in these situations.

  She picked up the desk telephone and dialed a number. “It’s Phoebe Burlingame, Devin. Can you come down to the office at this time?” She waited for a reply and replaced the receiver. “We will wait for Mr. Dillon to be present.” They waited while the minutes noisily ticked by on the wall clock.

  A quiet knock on the door preceded Devin’s entrance. “Judge.” He took in the scene before him: Phoebe sitting at the desk armed in a stern countenance, one hand grasping Oliver’s head; Porfirio standing, hands in pockets, staring at the clock.

  “Thank you for coming, Devin.” Another ten seconds passed as Phoebe remained silent, presumably weighing the employee’s fate. She appeared to be fully aware of the consternation she was causing the young man before her.

  Finally, she broke the silence. “Porfirio, I have given you any number of times to improve your performance here at The Albatross. I have warned you about your work ethic which appears to be non-existent. I have cautioned you about gossiping, about not completing your tasks, about the quality of work you do.” She narrowed her eyes. “Evidently, you don’t wish to be employed here or you would have made some attempt to improve your work habits. But you haven’t. And tonight, I find you engaged in a discussion with a resident that was both improper and unacceptable.”

  “That was private discussion,” he objected.

  “What you do on your time is private. What you do while you’re being paid to work here is not private.” She paused for emphasis. “Porfirio, your employment with The Albatross is terminated. You will receive your final check in the mail. Mr. Dillon, will you please accompany Porfirio to his car.”

  The expression on the young man’s face changed from sullen to glowering. “You have been after me since I got here,” he accused. “I think you don’t like Latinos.” His demeanor became aggressive.

  “And you would be wrong.” Her hand tightened on the alligator’s head while she reached for the telephone with the other. “For your sake, leave now or I will call the police. Your choice.”

  Porfirio reached for the jacket hanging on a wall hook and glared at the judge. “Un error estúpido para usted!”

  “I note your accusation and Mr. Dillon is a witness to it. Now—” She nodded to Devin who opened the door and stood expectantly in the corridor for Porfirio, who made no move to leave. Judge Phoebe waited only three seconds before she picked up the telephone receiver and tapped in 911. “This is Phoebe Burlingame. I’m the condominium association president at The Albatross on Ocean Cove Road. An employee has been terminated and is resisting leaving the premises.” She listened. “Thank you.” She replaced the handset. “It would be less problematic for you if you left on your own accord,” she said, her left hand discreetly reaching toward her thigh.

  Porfirio, face flushed in anger, took a step closer to the desk with Devin just behind him.

  “That won’t be necessary, Devin.” Phoebe brought her gun out of hiding and leveled it at the dismissed employee. “Don’t even think about any violence, Porfirio. You wouldn’t get one step closer.” She waved the gun dismissively. “You have about two minutes left before the police get here. Take advantage of that and get out.”

  Porfirio stood frozen in place, but only for a few seconds as the wail of a police siren reached the office. He whirled and walked quickly out into the lobby and out the front doors. He broke into a run, heading toward a badly dented Camaro at the end of the parking lot and flung himself into the front seat. The roar of his motor and screech of his tires were evidence of his quick departure.

  “I’m guessing past trouble with the law,” Phoebe murmured. “Unpleasant business, this, but it had to be done.” She turned to Devin, who was still trying to hide his surprise at Phoebe’s effective demonstration of defensiveness. “All right, Devin, my boy?” She smiled at him as she returned the gun to its hidden holster.

  Devin nodded his head slowly. “You’re quite the woman, Phoebe. Made of pioneer stock, all right.”

  “Unfortunately, this seems to be all in a day’s work at The Albatross,” she said ruefully. “Some retirement this is turning out to be.”

  Chapter 48

  Tom knocked sharply on the darkened Porsche window. “Open up,” he ordered.

  The window rolled down slowly. “Yeah?” A deeply tanned Adrian Spaltro looked up at Tom, eyes hidden behind Prada sunglasses.

  “What are you doing here?” Tom demanded.

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Who’re you waiting for?” Tom persisted.

  “Ya gotta be kidding. None a ya business.” Adrian pressed the button to roll up his window. Before it reached midway, Tom yanked the door open, reached in, and grabbed Adrian by his shirt.

  “Listen, punk. If you’re waiting here for my daughter, it’s all my business.” He tightened his hold as Adrian made a move to break free.

  “Hey, she told me she couldn’t call me. She didn’t say she couldn’t see me.”

  “I’m telling you, you can’t see her, can’t call her, can’t write to her. Got it? You get your car out of here. I see you or your car again, I’m filing stalking charges. She’s underage, and it’s going to be a big problem for you if I see you here again.” Tom’s florid face matched the color of his hair. He released his hold.

  “Yeah, man. Jeezus. What are you—a nut job?” Adrian smoothed out his rumpled shirt.

  “I’m my daughter’s father. Get out of here. Now.”

  “I’m goin’. Ya betta explain to Carly why I’m not in the parkin’ lot. She’s spectin’ to see me here.” He smil
ed up at Tom. “She’s got the hots for me, Dad.” He pulled his door shut and threw the car in gear, tires screeching as he roared out of the parking lot.

  Tom looked at the departing car in total frustration. He didn’t hear the light footsteps approaching behind him.

  “Tom. Tom, what’s happening?” Kate asked.

  Jaw muscles twitching, he took a deep breath. “That punk. He’s hanging around waiting for Carly. I pulled in and saw his car. I waited a while to see if Carly was coming out. When she didn’t, I asked him what he was doing here.”

  “Did he say he came to see Carly?”

  “Not exactly. But he did say she had the ‘hots’ for him. I think he’s hanging around hoping she’ll come out. This kid’s living off women. No job. No family here. Expensive car, jewelry. If his family’s not bankrolling him, he’s getting money from women he picks up.” He turned to Kate, clearly frustrated. “Unless I put my daughter into a convent, I have no control over her. I’m afraid her mother’s been a bad model for her.” He raked his fingers through his hair, exasperated.

  Kate looked at her watch. “I have an hour before I have to leave for a supper party we’re catering. C’mon up to Devin’s. Cheesecake and coffee soothe the soul.” She looped her arm around Tom’s. “C’mon,” she urged. “Alexis and Carly are prepping with Latasha down at Kate’s Kitchen right now. They’re too busy to think about boys. Latasha has them working their butts off.”

  They started walking to the building. “Unless Carly told Spaltro she’s working there or he followed Alexis when they left for work, he doesn’t know where she is. And if he does, he won’t want to fool with Latasha. I’ve seen her handle tough customers like they were rabbits. And besides,” Kate grinned at him, “she has a gun.”

  Chapter 49

  Before they reached the lobby doors, a long white limousine pulled into the driveway and parked under The Albatross’s portico. The chauffer opened the back door and a passenger alighted.