Condo Crazies: Murder At The Albatross Page 14

  “Ya can’t blame her, can you?” Latasha shrugged. “He did change her life.”

  “And,” Devin interjected, “young people are easily embarrassed, and Stewart embarrasses her. If I hadn’t known him in his sane days, I’d wonder how you even got involved with him. No one wants a father who goes around looking like Moses. He even has a rod, for Pete’s sake.” Devin rolled his eyes. “You’ve done your job, Kate. Alexis is old enough to know what she wants.”

  Kate turned to Latasha.

  “Don’ you look at me.” Latasha put her cup down with a clatter. “He’s creepy. If you’re lookin’ for takes here, I’m goin’ with Devin on this one. Alexis is eighteen. She’s a woman. Where I come from, some eighteen-year-olds are mothers. She’s a bright kid. Jes let ’er be.” Latasha looked at the kitchen clock. “I’m on duty in thirty minutes. Gotta go. See you at the catering kitchen at six, Kate. I gotta go home first so my kid knows what his mama looks like.” She grabbed her shoulder bag. “Bye, all.”

  “See you later.” Kate smiled at her.

  “Have a good one,” Devin called after her.

  Latasha stopped, hand on the doorknob, turned around, and stared at Devin. “A good one would be findin’ the perp, but the case jes keeps gettin’ bigger. An’ crazy Monica keeps orderin’ more food for her parties. Prescott’s depletin’ the slush fund account.” She shook her head, sending her shoulder length, shiny black curls into motion. “I ain’t never gonna forget this assignment.”

  Chapter 58

  Good morning.” Phoebe gathered her mail and locked the box before looking at Monica.

  “Mawnin’, Auntie.” Monica looked down at her, checking the mailbox next to hers.

  “Arrrggghh.” A stone-faced Chester stopped in the mailroom doorway. A dull red flush suffused his craggy face. He pointed a shaky finger at Monica. “Git your mail and git outta here,” he ordered. “I ain’t comin’ in ‘til you go. No decent man wants to be anywhere near you.”

  “Mr. Cheney—” Phoebe warned.

  “No, Auntie.” Monica stopped her. “I’m leavin’ anyhow.” She slid her large, pink-framed sunglasses from the top of her head onto her nose. “Chester can’t seem to control himself around me.” She shouldered her voluminous raspberry-colored leather tote and made her way out of the mail room. She paused after she passed Chester, her accentuated bright pink lips in a pouty smile. “An’ you have a good day, Chester, you ol’ fox!” With an emphasized swishing of her hips, Monica headed to the lobby.

  Visibly trembling with rage, Chester looked at Monica’s retreating back. “Damned queer—”

  “Mr. Cheney.” Phoebe stopped him curtly. “You are aware, are you not, you are liable uttering such derogatory statements?”

  “Yeah, well, Judge, a man’s gotta be a man. That there woman ain’t no woman. You must know that, you’re his aunt.” He glared at Phoebe.

  “I’ve heard, Mr. Cheney, that you made an inappropriate sexual overture. And I know you’re married. And you judge others? That’s a rhetorical question. I have no interest in your affairs.” Phoebe turned and walked out of the mailroom toward the elevators, with Oliver preceding and stomping her indignation. She glanced at Bridey Magillicuddy, who emerged from the exercise room with a sweaty Adrian Spaltro in tow.

  “Good morning, Judge Burlingame,” Bridey greeted Phoebe as the old woman sought an escape to the elevator.

  “Good morning, Miss Magillicuddy.”

  Phoebe’s keen observation took in Bridey’s companion. He wore obviously expensive exercise gear and heavy gold necklaces. Instinctively, she knew he was the young man on Latasha Ezuma’s list as a possible suspect. She’d seen many like him stand before her during her years on the bench—spoiled young men who thought they were impervious to the penalties of their misconduct. She nodded at Bridey.

  Before Bridey could introduce Adrian to the judge, Phoebe made her escape into the elevator behind Tom Delaney just as the doors slid shut.

  ***

  “Who’s the old broad?” Adrian asked Bridey.

  “Old broad?” Bridey turned reproachful eyes on Adrian. “You aren’t referring to the judge as an old broad, are you?”

  “Judge—ohh, she’s the judge? Figured the judge would be younger.”

  “You heard about the judge before?” Bridey asked innocently.

  “Well, yeah, I guess. Carly mentioned her a couple of times.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Hey, I dunno. Don’t remember. Whaddaya say we go out for a drink?”

  “Can’t. Monica and I are going out shopping. Maybe another time.” Bridey looked at the frowning Adrian.

  “Ya always seem to have an excuse. So when am I gonna see ya again?”

  “I’ll be tied up for a few days. My dad’s coming to town.”

  “You avoidin’ me?” Adrian eyed her suspiciously.

  Bridey laughed. “I just spent two hours with you. How’s that avoiding you?”

  Adrian shrugged. “I dunno, just feels like it.”

  “Well, I’m not. Give me a call next week and we’ll plan something. Okay?” She turned a megawatt smile on the man who might be a killer.

  “Yeah, I guess.” Adrian whipped out his Versace sunglasses and twirled them on his finger before putting them on.

  “Nice shades. Really cool.”

  “Yeah, well. A…friend gave them to me.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Nah. Some old broad I take out to shows when she calls me.” He arched one eyebrow at Bridey.

  “So you’re her boy toy?” Bridey’s tone was matter-of-fact.

  “Eh, I guess you could say that.” Adrian seemed pleased with that title. “All right. I’m goin’. Call you next week. Maybe.” He assumed an air of carelessness and jauntily passed through the lobby doors.

  Chapter 59

  Clancy Magillicuddy pulled into The Albatross’s parking lot and shut the motor off. He rolled the window down and closed his eyes as the warm air wafted into the Explorer. Florida…finally. A wet nudge on the back of his neck and a throaty growl alerted him to his passenger in the back seat. Shamus narrowed his eyes at Clancy. A disgruntled, mumbled objection made his feelings known.

  “Yeah, you ol’ coot. I know, I know.” Clancy heaved his weighty frame out of the front seat and waited until he got back his walking legs before he opened the rear door.

  Shamus eyed a nearby bush. His stubby body wriggled in anticipation.

  “I’m movin’ as fast as I can,” Clancy soothed.

  He attached the lead to the Miniature Pincher’s collar and gave him a nod, sending Shamus flying out of the car like Super Canine. The little dog sprinted to the bush, closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been hours since his last pit stop. He looked reproachfully at Clancy.

  “Aww, stop yer complainin’.” His voice still had the lilt of a slight Irish brogue even after fifty years on New York’s Finest.

  “Daddy!” Bridey’s delighted cry carried across the parking lot as she ran to her father, her long, raven-black hair fanning out in the breeze. She buried herself in her father’s arms and hugged him tightly.

  “Baby, I am so happy to see you.” Clancy wiped his eyes. He held her at arm’s length. “Ah, y’be lookin’ more like your sainted mother every day.” He hugged her again.

  “Owwww. Shamus, you’re clawing me to death.” Bridey scooped up the muscular little body and covered the dog’s face with kisses.

  “Don’ be turning me attack dog into a sissy,” Clancy protested.

  “Yeah, he looks like he’s hating this.” Bridey hugged the now docile Shamus, who looked at his master with a grin. “He loves it.”

  “Well, put him down before he becomes a wimp. Tell me, darlin’, what’s happenin’ here? Y’sounded a bit worried. Let’s sit a bit.” He motioned to the car.

  Shamus looked from Bridey to Clancy, then longingly to the expanse of lawn before them.

  “C’mon, Lil’ Bit. You can sit on my
lap.” Bridey scooped up the dog as she got into the front seat next to her father.

  “So, start at the beginnin’ an’ don’t leave anything out,” Clancy instructed his daughter.

  A half hour later, Bridey leaned back on the seat. “And that’s all of it.”

  Clancy looked out the window. “An’ the ‘Ice Princess’ is still goin’ strong, y’say?”

  Bridey chuckled. “Judge Phoebe is all you said she’d be. She’s almost eighty and she’s fierce.”

  “I’ll never forget what she did the day I was shot. She yelled out for everyone to get down and by the time the guards got the gunman down, she was next to me, coverin’ my wound with her hand to stop the bleedin’. She came to the hospital to see me. Quite a lady.”

  “Daddy, you saved her life.”

  “Nothin’ any one of my buddies wouldn’t a done.”

  “But they didn’t and you did. She hasn’t forgotten you, you know.”

  A glint sparked in Clancy’s eye. “Ahh, I had such a crush on her. I hadn’t a met your mom yet, and Judge Phoebe Burlingame was a looker. If I hadn’t a been a cop and she a judge…”

  “You’ll get to see her again. I’ve arranged a dinner with the three of us tonight.”

  “Did y’now. That’ll be grand. Now about this case of yours? Let’s go through who you think might’ve killed the poor woman.”

  “Killed the poor woman and attacked Judge Phoebe,” Bridey added.

  “No—was she hurt?”

  Bridey laughed. “It’d take a lot more than a masked, hooded hoodlum to hurt the judge. She used her cane and beat him away.”

  “A cane.” Clancy smiled. “With a heavy silver alligator head?”

  “The same. She had that cane then?”

  “She got it after the courtroom attack. I think that was the first time she realized she could be in danger. Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Clancy exclaimed, “What is that?” He peered at the white-garbed, monk-like figure gliding to a limousine in front of the lobby doors.

  Bridey didn’t have to look to know who it was. “It’s Kate’s ex-husband, Alexis’s father. He came here to see his daughter, but she’ll have nothing to do with him.”

  “Can y’blame her? And who’s she?” Clancy looked at a flamboyantly dressed woman swishing her full hips on the way to her car.

  “That is Valentina Lopez, one of the residents. What you would call a hot tamale. And that,” Bridey pointed to Chester Cheney, “is also an interesting resident. Mr. Cheney is a trifle eccentric, but then most of the people in this building are.” She spied Monica walking to her car on very high heels and holding down a large, hot pink straw hat against the wind blowing off the Intracoastal.

  “That’s one tall woman,” Clancy observed. “Who’s she?”

  “She’s my, umm, roommate, of sorts. You can meet her later when she comes back. Let’s go up to the apartment and I’ll explain about Monica.” She cuddled Shamus, who had fallen asleep in her arms. “C’mon, Lil’ Bit. Get some exercise before dinner. And then I’ll show you your new bed. You’re going to love it here.” She unlatched Shamus’s collar and pointed to the lawn. “Go—run, run, run.”

  Shamus needed no encouragement. His youthful energies kicked in. He zig-zagged, serpentined, and circled around the palm trees, clearly loving his freedom. His Doberman look-alike black coat shone in the afternoon sun. Shamus ran to the edge of the lawn and stopped short. A ridge of fur sprang upright, straight down the center of his back. His attention was completely captured by a battered car, an old Camaro parked at the edge of the parking lot. He raised his nose and sniffed the air. With a stalking gait, eyes squinted against the sun, he moved closer to the car. From somewhere deep in the little dog’s throat, a guttural sound emerged.

  “Shamus, here boy,” Clancy called.

  Shamus’s eyes never left the car as he obeyed the command, reached Clancy’s side, then ran back to the car, this time barking shrilly.

  “What is it?” Bridey asked.

  “He’s taken a scent. Whose car is that?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone at The Albatross would own a car that looked like that.”

  Clancy pointed at Shamus and then to an invisible spot on the ground. The small dog lowered his body as commanded, his eyes never leaving Clancy’s face. Instincts die hard and Clancy’s hadn’t died at all. Through the opened windows, he looked into the car’s interior, front seat, back seat. Bridey squelched her own impulses and watched her father at work. She marveled at the lightness of his movements, the sweep of his eyes as they registered details of his observation.

  “Nothing showing inside. Whatever alerted Shamus is in the trunk,” Clancy said. “It’s all yours, Daughter.”

  Bridey looked closely at the trunk’s lid. “It looks like it may not be entirely closed.” She leaned down, picked up a short, stout, fallen branch and fitted it under the trunk lid. It moved slowly yielding under the wedge. The trunk opened a few inches.

  Shamus sat up. Lifting his chin, he uttered a high-pitched wail.

  Bridey reached over, fingers touching only the very edge of the car lid and opened it wide.

  Father and daughter stood side-by-side, in mirrored hands-on-hips stances, staring down into the blank eyes of a dead Hispanic man.

  The embroidered name inscribed on his shirt pocket read, “Porfirio.”

  Chapter 60

  Latasha finished her note taking and clicked her pen a few times before snapping her notebook shut. She looked at Judge Phoebe.

  “It don’ look as if it’s ever gonna end, does it, Judge?”

  “Oh, it’ll end, Detective. Question is, when?” The old woman grimaced. “And why Porfirio? He was one of the suspects in Delores’s murder.”

  “Why did he leave this job?” Latasha asked.

  Phoebe shrugged. “I fired him. Lazy. The day he was dismissed, I saw an ugly side of him.”

  “Gotta be tied into the murder here somehow.” Latasha looked at the weathered Camaro at the end of the lot. A tow truck waited while crime scene investigators were finishing up. Not wanting to blow her cover, Bridey and her father had gone to her apartment just after the police arrived, the little canine detective strutting in front of them, seemingly pleased with his discovery.

  “That amazin’ pup found the body,” Latasha said. “This here case has more crazy bends than any I’ve ever been on.”

  Phoebe nodded. “It’s no ordinary dog. Bridey’s father trained him for police work.” A smile curved her lips upward. “He says small dogs are more portable and cheaper to feed than German Shepherds. Clancy Magillicuddy—” A faraway look came into her eyes. “After all these years.” She started to leave then turned back to Latasha. “You’re right, Detective. Lots of twists and turns going on around here.”

  Chapter 61

  The sign over the mailboxes read:

  Meeting today. Noon. Clubroom.

  Topic: Residents’ general safety precautions.

  The assembled residents sat uneasily on the plush club chairs, waiting.

  “Can’t be good,” Yetta Horowitz muttered. She turned to Valentina next to her. “You, psychic powers woman, you don’t know what this is about?”

  Valentina turned her dark eyes on Yetta. “You’re making fun of my psychic capabilities? Car-r-r-eful, Yetta. The Evil Eye will hear you.”

  “Oh my god, Valentina. So now the devil is watching over you? Get over yourself.” She ignored the Latina’s intense stare and turned as the door opened. Instant silence fell over the room as Phoebe led a grim-faced Latasha to the front of the room. A burly, uniformed officer followed them into the room but remained standing by the door, arms folded over his chest.

  “Good afternoon,” Phoebe began. “I called this meeting to keep you informed. Detective Ezuma is going to update you on what’s happened at The Albatross.” She nodded at the policewoman.

  An apprehensive murmur rippled through the audience.

  Latasha stepped forward. “
Thank you, Judge Burlingame.” She cleared her throat, and got right to the point. “G’mornin’. This mornin’, a body was discovered in the trunk of a car in The Albatross’s parking lot.” She paused for the expected gasp from the residents.

  “Arrrghhhh. Are you freakin’ kidding me? ’Nother one? You ain’t solved the last one yet.” Chester stood up. “Where’s the police when all this is goin’ on? I think—”

  “We aren’t here to hear what you think, Mr. Cheney,” Phoebe interrupted sternly. “Kindly allow Detective Ezuma to continue uninterrupted. Save any questions you may have until she completes her report. She’s here as a courtesy.”

  No one dared to respond to the judge when she assumed her judicial role. Chester sat down amid accusing stares of his fellow residents.

  “Give it a rest, Chester,” Yetta hissed.

  “Usted habla como un burro,” Valentina intoned.

  “You swearin’ at me?” Chester’s voice was notably subdued.

  “I said you talk like a donkey.” Valentina leveled a hard stare at Chester. “You are as stupid as a donkey, and you sound like one.” She turned her attention back to the waiting detective. “Go ahead, Detective. We’re listening.”

  “Um, yes.” Latasha found her place in her thoughts and proceeded. “A body was found in the car trunk. It was a former employee here at The Albatross, Mr. Porfirio Vasquez.”

  “Oh, por qué? Él era una persona hermosa.” Valentina placed her hand over her heart. She had a real audience for her theatrics. Her shoulders shook as tears coursed down her face.

  “Oy, here we go.” Yetta rolled her eyes upward and turned around to face the wailing woman. “Valentina, get a hold on yourself. Just because he had the hots for you didn’t make him a beautiful person. Remember when he refused to help that poor woman stuck in her toilet seat? Or when the power went off and you and I were in the elevator, and he wanted to finish his lunch before he called for help? Be real.” She turned back to the waiting detective. “Pardon us, Detective.”